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THE LARGER
TEMPLE SHAKESPEARE
By the kind permission of Messrs Macmillan Isf Co.
and W. Ald'is Wright, Esq., the text here
used is that of the " Cambridge " Edition. In
the present issue of the ' ' Temple Shakespeare
the Editor has introduced some feiv textual
changes ; these have been carefully noted in
each case.
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THE WORKS
OF
SHAKESPEARE
EDITED BY
ISRAEL GOLLANCZ
VOLUME THREE
THE MERCHANT i^illlfe THE TAMING OF
OF Mh*\ <1W%B®8& THE SHREW
VENICE flgggtj^^^ff ALL'S WELL
AS YOU L1KK IT "^jPJPIPP* THAT ENDS WELL
WITH MANY ILLUSTRATIONS,
ANTIQUARIAN AND TOPOGRAPHICAL
LONDON
J. M. DENT £s? CO.
ALDINE HOUSE
29 & 30 BEDFORD STREET, W.C.
1899
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THE MERCHANT OF VENICE
Preface.
The Editions. Two Quarto editions of The Merchant of Venice were
printed in the year 1600, with the following title-pages : —
(i.) The Excellent History of the Merchant of Venice. With the extreme
cruelty of Shylocke the Jeiv towards the said Merchant, in cutting a just pound of
his flesh. And the obtaining of Portia, by the choyse of three Caskets. Written
by W. Shakespeare. Printed by J. Roberts, 1600. This Quarto had been
registered on July 22nd, 1598, with the proviso "that yt bee not printed
by the said James Robertes or anye other whatsoeuer without lycence
first had from the Right honorable the lord chamberlen." This edition
is generally described as ' the first Quarto.' (ii.) The most Excellent
Historie of the Merchant if Venice. With the extreame crueltie of Shylocle the
Jeive totuards the sayd Merchant , in cutting a just pound of his fesh : and the
obtayning of Portia by the choyse of three chests. As it hath beene diuers times acted
by the Lord Chamberlaine his seruants. Written by William Shakespeare. At
London. Printed by I. P. for Thomas Heyes, and are to be sold in Paules Church-
yard, at the signe cf the Greene Dragon. 1600. This, the second Quarto,
had been entered in the Stationers' Registers on the 28th of October of the
same year ' under the handes of the Wardens and by consent of master
Robertes.' It seems therefore likely that • I. R.' are the initials of the
printer of the first Quarto, though the same type was not used for the
two editions, which were evidently printed from different transcripts of
the author's manuscript. Quarto 1 gives on the whole a more accurate
text ; in a few instances it is inferior to Quarto 2.
The second Quarto was carelessly reprinted in 1637, the only addition
being a list of 'The Actors' Names'; in one instance it improved on
the previous editions (' in measure reine thy joy,' III. ii. 112, instead
of < rain'). A fourth Quarto, probably the third with a new title-page,
appeared in 1652. Prof. Hales has suggested that the publication of
this Quarto was connected with the proposed re-admission of the Jews
into England, which was bitterly resented by a large portion of the
THE MERCHANT
nation ; ' the re-exhibition of Shylock in 1652 could scarcely have tended
to soften this general disposition.'
The text of the first Folio edition (1623) represents that of the second
Quarto with a few variations, the most interesting being the change of
' the Scottish lord ' into ' the other lord,' evidently in deference to the
reigning king.
During the first half of the eighteenth century a 'low comedy' version,
' The Jew of Venice,' by George Granville, Viscount Lansdowne, sup-
planted Shakespeare's play, and held the stage from the date of its
appearance in 1701 ; Macklin's revival of The Merchant of Venice at the
Drury Lane in 1741 dealt a death-blow to Lansdowne's monstrosity, and
restored again to the stage
' The Jew
That Shakespeare drew.'
In the Funeral Elegy of the famous
actor, Richard Burbadge, 'who died on Saturday in Lent, the 13th of
March 161 8,' there is a valuable reference to Burbadge's impersonation
of Shylock : —
" Heart-broke Phi/aster, and Amintas too,
Are lost for ever; with the red-haired Jew,
Which sought the bankrupt merchant' s pound of flesh,
By woman-lawyer caught in his own mesh ;
What a wide world was in that little space,
Thyself a world — the Globe thy fittest place."
(For the interpretation of the character by Macklin, Kean, Irving, and
Booth, cp. Furness' Variorum edition, pp. 371-385.)*
Date of Composition. The Merchant of Venice is mentioned by
Francis Meres in his Palladis Tamia, 1598 ; in th° same year Roberts
entered it on the Books of the Stationers' Company. This is the
earliest positive allusion to the play. A noteworthy imitation of the
moonlight scene between Lorenzo and Jessica occurs in the play Wily
Beguiled, probably written in 1596-7. In Henslowe's Diary, under
the date 'August 25th, 1594,' mention is made of ' The Venesyon
Comodey ' (i.e. ' The Venetian Comedy ') as a new play ; one cannot, how-
ever, with any certainty identify Henslowe's comedy with The Merchant
<f Venice, though it seems likely that we have here a reference to a
rough draft of the play as we know it, — a partial revision of some
older play used by Shakespeare, hastily re-written to satisfy popular
* The most valuable of all the editions of the play (published by Lippencott, 1892),
edited by Horace Howard Furness.
OF VENICE
Preface
feeling against Dr Roderigo Lopez, the queen's Jewish physician, who
was executed on the 7th of June 1594, on the charge of being bribed by
the King of Spain to poison the Queen (cp. The Original of Shylock, by
S. L. Lee, Gentleman's Magazine, 1880 ; the article on 'Lopez' in the
Dictionary of National Biography ; ' the Conspiracy of Dr Lopez,' The Historical
Revie-w, July 1894). It is a significant fact that Lopez's chief rival was
the pretender Don Antonio.*
J^ovcz. (ompotKiJtna io tteyson the Qiieene
From Carleton's ' Thankfull Remembrance (1624).
Finally, Shakespeare's debt to Silvayn's Orator has an important bear-
ing on the date of the play ; the English translation appeared in 1596 ;
* Lopez was for a time attached to the household of Lord Leicester. James
Burbadge, the father of Richard Burbadge, one of ' the Earl of Leicester's com-
pany of servants and players,' must have had many opportunities of seeing Lopez,
when the doctor was attending the Earl at Kenilworth. It has been suggested
that the traditional red beard of Shylock was actually derived from Burbadge's
personal knowledge of Lopez. But it is now generally accepted on ample evidence
that there were many Jews scattered throughout England in the Elizabethan
period, though their formal re-admission was brought about by Cromwell. Queen
Elizabeth seems to have had her very strong doubts as to Lopez's alleged guilt, but his
enemies were evidently determined to get rid of him. The accounts of the trial are
interesting reading, from many points of view.
Preface THE MERCHANT
it is just possible, but unlikely, that Shakespeare had read the work in
the original French. The play may perhaps safely be dated ' about
1596'; the evidence will allow of nothing more definite.
me Sources jn 1579 Stephen Gosson, who had himself been a
writer of plays, published his " School of Abuse," containing " a pleasant
invective against Poets, Pipers, Players, Jesters and such-like Cater-
pillars of a Commonwealth : setting up the flag of defiance to their
mischievous exercise, etc., etc."; the book is a vigorous attack on
the acted drama ; yet he confesses that some of their plays are without
rebuke; 'which are easily remembered as quickly reckoned'; he pro-
ceeds to enumerate four plays ; one of these The Jeiv, shown at the Bull,
seems to have been the groundwork of Shakespeare's play, ' representing,'
as Gosson tells US, ' the greediness of ivorldly choosers, and bloody minds of
usurers.' It is clear from these words that the blending of ' The Bond
Story' and 'The Three Caskets' was already an accomplished fact in
English dramatic literature as early as 1579. There is probably a refer-
ence to this old play in a letter of Spenser to Gabriel Harvey of the
same year, 1579, in which he signs himself 'He that is fast bound unto
thee in more obligations than any merchant of Italy to any Jew there';
and again perhaps the Jew Gerontus in The Three Ladies of London (printed
in 1584), who tries to recover a loan of "three thousand ducats for
three month" from an Italian merchant Mercatore may have been derived
from the same source. "Gernutus" was possibly the name of Shylock's
prototype ; he is the hero of an old ballad dealing with ' the bond
story.' Its omission of all reference to Portia makes it probable that
this ballad preceded Shakespeare's play, though the extant text belongs
to the end of the sixteenth or to the beginning of the seventeenth
century.*
There are many analogues in European and Oriental literature to the
two stories which constitute the main plot of The Merchant of Venice.
As far as the pound of flesh and the lady-judge is concerned, the Italian
story in the Pecorone of Ser Giovanni Fiorentino is alone of direct import-
ance as an ultimate source of the play (cp. Hazlitt's Shakspere's Library,
Part I. Vol. i.). There can be no doubt that Shakespeare was indebted
to this novel.
* " A new song; shewing' the cruelty of Gernutus a Jew, who lending to a Ma.rcha.nt
a hundred crowns, would have a pound of his Flesh, because he could not pay him at
the day appointed. To the Tune of Black and Yellow" (cp. Percy's Reliques, etc.; the
text will be found in most editions of the play). This ballad must be distinguished
from Jordan's ballad of 1664 {cp. Furness' Variorum ed., p. 461), in which the author
took strange liberties with Shakespeare's story.
OF VENICE
Preface
"The Gesta Homanoritm" — Richard Robinson's English version entitled,
' Records of Ancyent Historyes ' (1577) — contains the nearest approximation
to the story of ' The Three Caskets ' as treated in this play.*
Shylock's argument in the trial scene (Act IV. i. 89-102) bears a
striking resemblance to ' Declamation 95 ' in Silvayn's Orator (referred
to above) " of a Jeiv, -who -would for his debt have a pound of the flesh of a
Christian. "
Venice in 1617.
From Fynes Moryson's Itinerary.
A, The Great Channell.
B, Market Place of St Mark.
K, II Lido.
C, Church of St Peter.
£, Church of St James neere the bridge Rialto.
M, The New Lazaretto.
The elopement of Jessica has been traced by Dunlop to the Fourteenth
Tale of Massucio di Salerno, who, enamoured of the daughter of a rich
Neapolitan miser, carries her off much in the same way as in the play.
It is not improbable that the avaricious father in this tale, the daughter
so carefully shut up, the elopement of the lovers managed by the inter-
* The various analogues of both stories are given in Furness' edition, pp. 287-331.
Preface THE MERCHANT OF VENICE
vention of a servant, the robbery of the father, and his grief at the
discovery, which is represented as divided between the loss of his
daughter and his ducats, may have suggested the third plot in Shake-
speare's drama.
Finally, account must be taken of the influence exercised on Shake-
speare by Marlowe's Jew of Malta ; the number of parallel passages in
the two plays evidences this sufficiently ; there is also similarity in the
situation between father and daughter (' Oh, girl, oh, gold, oh, beauty,
oh, my bliss'); Barabas and his slave should be compared with Shylock
and Launcelot Gobbo ; Marlowe's 'counter-argument ad Christianos,'
as Ward puts it, anticipates Shakespeare's ; yet withal " Marlowe's Jew
does not approach so near to Shakespeare's as his Edward the Second
does to Richard the Second. Shylock, in the midst of his savage purpose,
is a man. His motives, feelings, resentments, have something human in
them. 'If you wrong us, shall we not revenge?' Barabas is a mere
monster, brought in with a large painted nose to please the rabble. He
kills in sport, poisons whole nunneries, invents infernal machines. He
is just such an exhibition as, a century or two earlier, might have
been played before the Londoners by the Royal Command, when a general
pillage and massacre of the Hebrews had been resolved by the Cabinet"
(Charles Lamb).
Duration of Action. Various attempts have been made to calcu-
late the action of the play ; we know that the whole is supposed to last
three months, but ten weeks have already expired in Act HI. i. ; three
months have passed between Bassanio's departure from Venice and his
choice of the caskets ; his stay at Belmont before the opening of Act III.
ii. cannot have been long ; Portia bids him ' pause a day or two. ... I
would detain you here some month or two.' So many events have, how-
ever, happened during the first two acts that one gets the impression that
many weeks have passed, and the three months are compressed into
seven or eight days. Daniel (Time- Analysis of the Plots of Shaiespere's plays')
computes the time thus, though one cannot follow him in making Bas-
sanio's sojourn at Belmont last as long as three months : — Day i, Act I. ;
interval — say a week. Day z, Act II. i.-vii. ; interval one day. Day 3,
Act. II. viii.-ix. ; interval — bringing the time to within a fortnight of
the maturity of the bond. Day 4, Act III. i. ; interval — rather more
than a fortnight. Day 5, Act III. ii.-iv. Day 6, Act III. v. — Act. IV.
Days 7 and 8, Act V.
The earliest authentic representation of Venice known to exist.
From the Romance of Alexander in the Bodleian Library (XlVth Cent.)-
- friends to Antonio and Bassanio.
DRAMATIS PERSONS.
The Duke of Venice.
The Prince of Morocco,^ „ .
\suitors to Jrortta.
The Prince of Arragon, J
ANTONIO, a merchant of Venice.
Bassanio, his friend, suitor like-wise to Portia.
Salanio,
Salarino,
Gratiano,
Salerio,
Lorknzo, in love ivith Jessica.
Shylock, a rich Jeiu.
Tubal, a Jeiu, his friend.
Launcelot Gobbo, the cloiun, servant to Shyloci.
Old Gobbo, father to Launcelot.
Leonardo, servant to Bassanio.
Balthasar,~\ j.
[servants to rortia.
Stephano, J
Portia, a rich heiress.
Nerissa, her ivaiting-maid.
Jessica, daughter to Shylock.
Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice, Gaoler, Servants
to Portia, and other Attendants.
Scene : Partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the seat of Portia,
on the Continent
The Merchant of Venice.
ACT FIRST.
Scene I.
Venice. A street.
Enter Antonio, Salarino, and Salatiio.
Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad :
It wearies me ; you say it wearies you ;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born,
I am to learn j
And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
That I have much ado to know myself.
Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean ;
There, where your argosies with portly sail,
Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood, io
Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea,
Do overpeer the petty traffickers,
That curt'sy to them, do them reverence,
As they fly by them with their woven wings.
Salan. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth,
The better part of my affections would
Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still
Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind ;
Peering in maps for ports, and piers, and roads ;
And every object, that might make me fear 20
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt
Would make me sad,
3 A
Act I. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT
Salar. My wind, cooling my broth,
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
What harm a wind too great at sea might do.
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run,
But I should think of shallows and of flats,
And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand
Vailing her high top lower than her ribs
To kiss her burial. Should I go to church
And see the holy edifice of stone, 30
And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks,
Which touching but my gentle vessel's side
Would scatter all her spices on the stream,
Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks ;
And, in a word, but even now worth this,
And now worth nothing ? Shall I have the thought
To think on this ; and shall I lack the thought,
That such a thing bechanced would make me sad ?
But tell not me ; I know, Antonio
Is sad to think upon his merchandise. 40
Ant. Believe me, no : I thank my fortune for it,
My ventures are not in one bottom trusted,
Nor to one place ; nor is my whole estate
Upon the fortune of this present year :
Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad.
Salar. Why, then you are in love.
Ant. Fie, fie !
Salar. Not in love neither ? Then let us say you are sad,
Because you are not merry : and 'twere as easy
For you to laugh, and leap, and say you are merry,
Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed
Janus, 50
Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time :
OF VENICE Act I. Sc. i.
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes,
And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper ;
And other of such vinegar aspect,
That they '11 not show their teeth in way of smile,
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.
Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo, and Gratiano.
Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman,
Gratiano, and Lorenzo. Fare ye well :
We leave you now with better company.
Salar. I would have stay'd till I had made you merry, 60
If worthier friends had not prevented me.
Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard.
I take it, your own business calls on you,
And you embrace the occasion to depart.
Salar. Good morrow, my good lords.
Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh ? say,
when?
You grow exceeding strange : must it be so ?
Salar. We '11 make our leisures to attend on yours.
[Exeunt Salarino and Salan'io.
Lor. My Lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio,
We two will leave you : but, at dinner-time, 70
I pray you, have in mind where we must meet.
Bass. I will not fail you.
Gra. You look not well, Signior Antonio;
You have too much respect upon the world :
They lose it that do buy it with much care :
Believe me, you are marvellously changed.
Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano ;
A stage, where every man must play a part,
And mine a sad one.
Act I. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT
Gra. Let me play the fool :
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come ; 80
And let my liver rather heat with wine
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.
Why should a man, whose blood is warm within,
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ?
Sleep when he wakes, and creep into the jaundice
By being peevish ? I tell thee what, Antonio —
I love thee, and it is my love that speaks, —
There are a sort of men, whose visages
Do cream and mantle like a standing pond ;
And do a wilful stillness entertain, 90
With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit ;
As who should say, ' I am Sir Oracle,
And, when I ope my lips, let no dog bark ! '
0 my Antonio, I do know of these,
That therefore only are reputed wise
For saying nothing ; when, I am very sure,
If they should speak, would almost damn those ears,
Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools.
I'll tell thee more of this another time : 100
But fish not, with this melancholy bait.
For this fool gudgeon, this opinion.
Come, good Lorenzo. Fare ye well awhile :
1 '11 end my exhortation after dinner.
Lor. Well, we will leave you, then, till dinner-time :
I must be one of these same dumb wise men,
For Gratiano never lets me speak.
Gra. Well, keep me company but two years moe,
Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue.
Ant. Farewell : I'll grow a talker for this gear. no
OF VENICE Act I. Sc. i.
Gra. Thanks, i' faith ; for silence is only commendable
In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible.
[Exeunt Gratiano and Lorenzo.
Ant. Is that any thing now ?
Bass. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing,
more than any man in all Venice. His reasons
are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels
of chaff: you shall seek all day ere you find
them : and when you have them, they are not
worth the search.
Ant. Well, tell me now, what lady is the same 1 20
To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage,
That you to-day promised to tell me of ?
Bass. 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio,
How much I have disabled mine estate,
By something showing a more swelling port
Than my faint means would grant continuance :
Nor do I now make moan to be abridged
From such a noble rate ; but my chief care
Is, to come fairly off from the great debts,
Wherein my time, something too prodigal, 130
Hath left me gaged. To you, Antonio,
I owe the most, in money and in love ;
And from your love I have a warranty
To unburthen all my plots and purposes
How to get clear of all the debts I owe.
Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it ;
And if it stand, as you yourself still do,
Within the eye of honour, be assured,
My purse, my person, my extremest means,
Lie all unlock'd to your occasions. 140
Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft,
Act L Sc- »• THE MERCHANT
I shot his fellow of the self-same flight
The self-same way with more advised watch,
To find the other forth ; and by adventuring both,
I oft found both : I urge this childhood proof,
Because what follows is pure innocence.
I owe you much ; and, like a wilful youth,
That which I owe is lost : but if you please
To shoot another arrow that self way
Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, 150
As I will watch the aim, or to find both,
. Or bring your latter hazard back again
And thankfully rest debtor for the first.
Ant. You know me well ; and herein spend but time
To wind about my love with circumstance ;
And out of doubt you do me now more wrong
In making question of my uttermost,
Than if you had made waste of all I have :
Then do but say to me what I should do,
That in your knowledge may by me be done, 160
And I am prest unto it : therefore, speak.
Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left ;
And she is fair, and, fairer than that word,
Of wondrous virtues : sometimes from her eyes
I did receive fair speechless messages :
Her name is Portia ; nothing undervalued
To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia :
Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth ;
For the four winds blow in from every coast
Renowned suitors : and her sunny locks 170
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece ;
Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' strond,
And many Jasons come in quest of her.
OF VENICE Act I# Sc* "'
0 my Antonio, had I but the means
To hold a rival place with one of them,
1 have a mind presages me such thrift,
That I should questionless be fortunate !
Ant. Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at sea ;
Neither have I money, nor commodity
To raise a present sum : therefore go forth ; 1 80
Try what my credit can in Venice do :
That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost,
To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia.
Go, presently inquire, and so will I,
Where money is ; and I no question make,
To have it of my trust, or for my sake. [Exeunt.
Scene II.
Belmont. A room in Portia s house.
Enter Portia and Nerissa.
Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary
of this great world.
Ner. You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries
were in the same abundance as your good for-
tunes are : and yet, for aught I see, they are as
sick that surfeit with too much, as they that
starve with nothing. It is no mean happiness,
therefore, to be seated in the mean : superfluity
comes sooner by white hairs ; but competency
lives longer. !0
Por. Good sentences, and well pronounced.
Ner. They would be better, if well followed.
Por. If to do were as easy as to know what were
Act I. Sc. ii. THE MERCHANT
good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor
men's cottages princes' palaces. It is a good
divine that follows his own instructions : I can
easier teach twenty what were good to be done,
than be one of the twenty to follow mine own
teaching. The brain may devise laws for the
blood ; but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold 20
decree : such a hare is madness the youth, to
skip o'er the meshes of good counsel the cripple.
But this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose
me a husband. O me, the word ' choose ' ! I
may neither choose whom I would, nor refuse
whom I dislike ; so is the will of a living daughter
curbed by the will of a dead father. Is it not
hard, Nerissa, that I cannot choose one, nor
refuse none ?
Ner. Your father was ever virtuous •, and holy men, 30
at their death, have good inspirations : therefore,
the lottery, that he hath devised in these three
chests of gold, silver, and lead, — whereof who
chooses his meaning chooses you, — will, no
doubt, never be chosen by any rightly, but one
who shall rightly love. But what warmth is
there in your affection towards any of these
princely suitors that are already come ?
Por. I pray thee, over-name them ; and as thou
namest them, I will describe them; and, accord- 40
ing to my description, level at my affection.
Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan prince.
Por. Ay, that 's a colt indeed, for he dotli nothing
but talk of his horse ; and he makes it a great
appropriation to his own good parts, that he can
OF VENICE Act I. Sc. ii.
shoe him himself. I am much afeard my lady
his mother played false with a smith.
Ner. Then there is the County Palatine.
Por. He doth nothing but frown ; as who should
say, ' if you will not have me, choose : ' he 50
hears merry tales and smiles not : I fear he will
prove the weeping philosopher when he grows
old, being so full of unmannerly sadness in his
youth. I had rather be married to a death's-
head with a bone in his mouth than to either of
these. God defend me from these two !
Ner. How say you by the French lord, Monsieur
Le Bon ?
Por. God made him, and therefore let him pass
for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin to be 60
a mocker : but, he ! — why, he hath a horse
better than the Neapolitan's ; a better bad habit
of frowning than the Count Palatine : he is
every man in no man ; if a throstle sing, he falls
straight a capering : he will fence with his own
shadow : if I should marry him, I should marry
twenty husbands. If he would despise me, I
would forgive him ; for if he love me to mad-
ness, I shall never requite him.
Ner. What say you, then, to Falconbridge, the 70
young baron of England ?
Por. You know I say nothing to him j for he under-
stands not me, nor I him : he hath neither
Latin, French, nor Italian ; and you will come
into the court and swear that I have a poor
pennyworth in the English. He is a proper
man's picture ; but, alas, who can converse with
Act I. Sc. ii. THE MERCHANT
a dumb-show ? How oddly he is suited ! I
think he bought his doublet in Italy, his round
hose in France, his bonnet in Germany, and his 80
behaviour every where.
Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his neigh-
bour ?
Por. That he hath a neighbourly charity in him ;
for he borrowed a box of the ear of the English-
man, and swore he would pay him again when
he was able : I think the Frenchman became
his surety, and sealed under for another.
Ner. How like you the young German, the Duke
of Saxony's nephew ? 9°
Por. Very vilely in the morning, when he is sober ;
and most vilely in the afternoon, when he is
drunk : when he is best, he is a little worse
than a man ; and when he is worst, he is little
better than a beast : an the worst fall that ever
fell, I hope I shall make shift to go without him.
Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose the
right casket, you should refuse to perform your
father's will, if you should refuse to accept him.
Por. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee, 1 00
set a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the contrary
casket ; for, if the devil be within and that
temptation without, I know he will choose it.
I will do anything, Nerissa, ere I '11 be married
to a sponge.
Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having any of
these lords : they have acquainted me with
their determinations ; which is, indeed, to return
to their home, and to trouble you with no more
OF VENICE Act I. Sc. ii.
suit, unless you may be won by some other sort no
than your father's imposition, depending on the
caskets.
Por. If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die
as chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the
manner of my father's will. I am glad this
parcel of wooers are so reasonable ; for there is
not one among them but I dote on his very
absence ; and I pray God grant them a fair
departure.
Net: Do you not remember, lady, in your father's 120
time, a Venetian, a scholar, and a soldier, that
came hither in company of the Marquis of
Montferrat ?
Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio ; as I think he was
so called.
Net: True, madam : he, of all the men that ever my
foolish eyes looked upon, was the best deserving
a fair lady.
Por. I remember him well ; and I remember him
worthy of thy praise. 130
Enter a Serving-man.
How now ! what news ?
Serv. The four strangers seek for you, madam, to
take their leave : and there is a forerunner come
from a fifth, the Prince of Morocco ; who brings
word, the prince his master will be here to-night.
Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good
a heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I
should be glad of his approach : if he have the
condition of a saint and the complexion of a
Act I. Sc. iii. THE MERCHANT
devil, I had rather he should shrive me than 140
wive me.
Come, Nerissa. Sirrah, go before.
Whiles we shut the gates upon one wooer, another
knocks at the door. [Exeunt.
Scene III.
Venice. A public place.
Enter Bassanio and Shylock.
Shy. Three thousand ducats ; well.
Bass. Ay, sir, for three months.
Shy. For three months ; well.
Bass. For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be
bound.
Shy. Antonio shall become bound ; well.
Bass. May you stead me ? will you pleasure me ? shall
I know your answer ?
Shy. Three thousand ducats for three months, and
Antonio bound. IO
Bass. Your answer to that.
Shy. Antonio is a good man.
Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the contrary?
Shy. Ho, no, no, no, no : my meaning, in saying he is
a good man, is to have you understand me, that
he is sufficient. Yet his means are in supposi-
tion : he hath an argosy bound to Tripolis,
another to the Indies ; I understand, moreover,
upon the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a
fourth for England, and other ventures he hath, 20
squandered abroad. But ships are but boards,
sailors but men : there be land-rats and water-
OF VENICE Act I. Sc. iii.
rats, water - thieves and land - thieves, I mean
pirates ; and then there is the peril of waters,
winds, and rocks. The man is, notwithstanding,
sufficient. Three thousand ducats ; I think. I
may take his bond.
Bass. Be assured you may.
Shy. I will be assured I may ; and, that I may be
assured, I will bethink me. May I speak with go
Antonio ?
Bass. If it please you to dine with us.
Shy. Yes, to smell pork ; to eat of the habitation
which your prophet the Nazarite conjured the
devil into. I will buy with you, sell with you,
talk with you, walk with you, and so following ;
but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor
pray with you. "What news on the Rialto ?
Who is he comes here ?
Enter Antonio.
Bass. This is Signior Antonio. 40
Shy. [Aside] How like a fawning publican he looks !
I hate him for he is a Christian ;
But more for that in low simplicity
He lends out money gratis and brings down
The rate of usance here with us in Venice.
If I can catch him once upon the hip,
I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.
He hates our sacred nation ; and he rails,
Even there where merchants most do congregate,
On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, 50
Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe,
If I forgive him !
Act I. Sc. iii. THE MERCHANT
Bass. Shylock, do you hear ?
Shy. I am debating of my present store ;
And, by the near guess of my memory,
I cannot instantly raise up the gross
Of full three thousand ducats. What of that ?
Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe,
Will furnish me. But soft ! how many months
Do you desire ? [To Ant.~] Rest you fair, good
signior ;
Your worship was the last man in our mouths. 60
Ant. Shylock, although I neither lend nor borrow,
By taking nor by giving of excess,
Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend,
I '11 break a custom. Is he yet possess'd
How much ye would ?
Shy. Ay, ay, three thousand ducats.
Ant. And for three months.
Shy. I had forgot ; three months, you told me so.
Well then, your bond ; and let me see ; but hear you ;
Methought you said you neither lend nor borrow
Upon advantage.
Ant. I do never use it. 70
Shy. When Jacob grazed his uncle Laban's sheep, —
This Jacob from our holy Abram was,
As his wise mother wrought in his behalf,
The third possessor ; ay, he was the third, —
Ant. And what of him ? did he take interest ?
Shy. No, not take interest ; not, as you would say,
Directly interest : mark what Jacob did.
When Laban and himself were compromised
That all the eanlings which were streak'd and pied
Should fall as Jacob's hire, the ewes, being rank, 80
OF VENICE Act L Sc. Ui.
In the end of Autumn turned to the rams ;
And when the work of generation was
Between these woolly breeders in the act,
The skilful shepherd peel'd me certain wands,
And, in the doing of the deed of kind,
He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes,
Who, then conceiving, did in eaning time
Fall parti-colour'd lambs, and those were Jacob's.
This was a way to thrive, and he was blest :
And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not. 90
Ant. This was a venture, sir, that Jacob served for ;
A thing not in his power to bring to pass,
But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of heaven.
Was this inserted to make interest good ?
Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams ?
Shy. I cannot tell ; I make it breed as fast :
But note me, signior.
Ant. Mark you this, Bassanio,
The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.
An evil soul, producing holy witness,
Is like a villain with a smiling cheek ; 100
A goodly apple rotten at the heart :
O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath !
Shy. Three thousand ducats ; 'tis a good round sum,
Three months from twelve; then, let me see; the rate —
Ant. Well, Shylock, shall we be beholding to you ?
Shy. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft
In the Rialto you have rated me
About my moneys and my usances :
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug ;
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. 1 10
You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog,
Act I. Sc. iii. THE MERCHANT
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine,
And all for use of that which is mine own.
Well then, it now appears you need my help :
Go to, then ; you come to me, and you say
' Shylock, we would have moneys :' you say so ;
You, that did void your rheum upon my beard,
And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur
Over your threshold : moneys is your suit.
What should I say to you ? Should I not say 120
' Hath a dog money ? is it possible
A cur can lend three thousand ducats ? ' or
Shall I bend low and in a bondsman's key,
With bated breath and whispering humbleness,
Say this, —
' Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last ;
You spurn'd me such a day ; another time
You call'd me dog ; and for these courtesies
I '11 lend you thus much moneys ' ?
Ant. I am as like to call thee so again, 130
To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too.
If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not
As to thy friends ; for when did friendship take
A breed for barren metal of his friend ?
But lend it rather to thine enemy ;
Who if he break, thou mayest with better face
Exact the penalty.
Shy. Why, look you, how you storm !
I would be friends with you, and have your love,
Forget the shames that you have stain'd me with,
Supply your present wants, and take no doit 140
Of usance for my moneys, and you '11 not hear me :
This is kind I offer.
OF VENICE Act *• Sc- jii-
Bass. This were kindness.
Shy. This kindness will I show.
Go with me to a notary, seal me there
Your single bond ; and, in a merry sport,
If you repay me not on such a day,
In such a place, such sum or sums as are
Express'd in the condition, let the forfeit
Be nominated for an equal pound
Of your fair flesh, to be cut ofFand taken 150
In what part of your body pleaseth me.
Ant. Content, i' faith : I '11 seal to such a bond,
And say there is much kindness in the Jew.
Bass. You shall not seal to such a bond for me :
I '11 rather dwell in my necessity.
Ant. Why, fear not, man ; I will not forfeit it :
Within these two months, that 's a month before
This bond expires, I do expect return
Of thrice three times the value of this bond.
Shy. O father Abram, what these Christians are, 160
Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect
The thoughts of others ! Pray you, tell me this ;
If he should break his day, what should I gain
By the exaction of the forfeiture ?
A pound of man's flesh taken from a man
Is not so estimable, profitable neither,
As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say,
To buy his favour, I extend this friendship :
If he will take it, so; if not, adieu;
And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not. 170
Ant. Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond.
Shy. Then meet me forthwith at the notary's ;
Give him direction for this merry bond ;
3 B
Act II. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT
And I will go and purse the ducats straight ;
See to my house, left in the fearful guard
Of an unthrifty knave ; and presently
I will be with you.
Ant. Hie thee, gentle Jew. [Exit Shylock.
The Hebrew will turn Christian : he grows kind.
Bass. I like not fair terms and a villain's mind.
Ant. Come on : in this there can be no dismay ; 1 80
My ships come home a month before the day.
[Exeunt.
ACT SECOND.
Scene I.
Belmont. A room in Porticos house.
Flourish of cornets. Enter the Prince of Morocco and his
train ; Portia, Nerissa, and others attending.
Mor. Mislike me not for my complexion,
The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun,
To whom I am a neighbour and near bred.
Bring me the fairest creature northward born,
Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles,
And let us make incision for your love,
To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine.
I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine
Hath fear'd the valiant : by my love, I swear
The best-regarded virgins of our clime 10
Hath loved it too : I would not change this hue,
Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen.
Por. In terms of choice I am not solely led
By nice direction of a maiden's eyes ;
OF VENICE Act II. Sc. i.
Besides, the lottery of my destiny
Bars me the right of voluntary choosing :
But if my father had not scanted me
And hedged me by his wit, to yield myself
His wife who wins me by that means I told you,
Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair 20
As any comer I have look'd on yet
For my affection.
Mor. Even for that I thank you :
Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets,
To try my fortune. By this scimitar
That slew the Sophy and a Persian prince
That won three fields of Sultan Solyman,
I would outstare the sternest eyes that look,
Outbrave the heart most daring on the earth,
Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear,
Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey, 30
To win thee, lady. But, alas the while !
If Hercules and Lichas play at dice
Which is the better man, the greater throw
May turn by fortune from the weaker hand :
So is Alcides beaten by his page ;
And so may I, blind fortune leading me,
Miss that which one unworthier may attain,
And die with grieving.
Por. You must take your chance
And either not attempt to choose at all,
Or swear before you choose, if you choose
wrong, 40
Never to speak to lady afterward
In way of marriage : therefore be advised.
Mor. Nor will not. Come, bring me unto my chance.
Act II. Sc. ii. THE MERCHANT
Por. First, forward to the temple : after dinner
Your hazard shall be made.
Mor. Good fortune then !
To make me blest or cursed'st among men.
\Cornets, and exeimt.
Scene I .
Venice. A street.
Enter Launcelot.
Lawn Certainly my conscience will serve me to
run from this Jew my master. The fiend is
at mine elbow, and tempts me, saying to me,
' Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot,'
or ' good Gobbo,' or, ' good Launcelot Gobbo,
use your legs, take the start, run away.' My
conscience says, ' No ; take heed, honest Launce-
lot \ take heed, honest Gobbo,' or, as aforesaid,
' honest Launcelot Gobbo ; do not run ; scorn
running with thy heels.' Well, the most cour- lo
ageous fiend bids me pack : ' Via ! ' says the fiend ;
' away ! ' says the fiend ; ' for the heavens, rouse
up a brave mind,' says the fiend, ' and run.' Well,
my conscience, hanging about the neck of my
heart, says very wisely to me, ' My honest friend
Launcelot, being an honest man's son,' — or
rather an honest woman's son ; — for, indeed, my
father did something smack, something grow to,
he had a kind of taste ; — well, my conscience
says, ' Launcelot, budge not,' ' Budge,' says the 20
fiend. ' Budge not,' says my conscience. ' Con-
science,' say I, ' you counsel well ; ' ' Fiend,' say
OF VENICE Act II. Sc. ii.
I, ' you counsel well : ' to be ruled by my con-
science, I should stay with the Jew my master,
who, God bless the mark, is a kind of devil ; and,
to run away from the Jew, I should be ruled by
the fiend, who, saving your reverence, is the
devil himself. Certainly the Jew is the very
devil incarnal ; and, in my conscience, my con-
science is but a kind of hard conscience, to offer go
to counsel me to stay with the Jew. The fiend
gives the more friendly counsel : I will run, fiend ;
my heels are at your command ; I will run.
Enter Old Gobbo, with a basket.
Gob. Master young man, you, I pray you, which is
the way to master Jew's ?
Lann. [Aside] O heavens, this is my true-begotten
father ! who, being more than sand-blind, high-
gravel blind, knows me not: I will try confusions
with him.
Gob. Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is 40
the way to master Jew's ?
Laun. Turn up on your right hand at the next turning,
but, at the next turning of all, on your left ;
marry, at the very next turning, turn of no hand,
but turn down indirectly to the Jew's house.
Gob. By God's sonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit.
Can you tell me whether one Launcelot, that
dwells with him, dwell with him or no ?
Laun. Talk you of young Master Launcelot ? [Aside]
Mark me now ; now will I raise the waters. 50
Talk you of young Master Launcelot ?
Gob. No master, sir, but a poor man's son : his father,
Act II. Sc. ii. . THE MERCHANT
though I say it, is an honest exceeding poor man,
and, God be thanked, well to live.
Latin. Well, let his father be what a' will, we talk
of young Master Launcelot.
Gob. Your worship's friend, and Launcelot, sir.
Laun. But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech
you, talk you of young Master Launcelot ?
Gob. Of Launcelot, an 't please your mastership. 60
Laun. Ergo, Master Launcelot. Talk not of Master
Launcelot, father; for the young gentleman,
according to Fates and Destinies and such odd
sayings, the Sisters Three and such branches of
learning, is indeed deceased ; or, as you would
say in plain terms, gone to heaven.
Gob. Marry, God forbid ! the boy was the very
staff of my age, my very prop.
Laun. Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a
staff or a prop ? Do you know me, father ? 70
Gob. Alack the day, I know you not, young gentle-
man : but, I pray you, tell me, is my boy, God
rest his soul, alive or dead ?
Laun. Do you not know me, father ?
Gob. Alack, sir, I am sand-blind ; I know you not.
Laun. Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you mignt
fail of the knowing me : it is a wise father that
knows his own child. Well, old man, I will
tell you news of your son : give me your bless-
ing : truth will come to light ; murder cannot 80
be hid long ; a man's son may ; but, at the
length, truth will out.
Gob. Pray you, sir, stand up : I am sure you are not
Launcelot, my boy.
OF VENICE Act II. Sc. ii.
Lauti. Pray you, let's have no more fooling about it,
but give me your blessing : I am Launcelot,
your boy that was, your son that is, your child
that shall be.
Gob. I cannot think you are my son.
Laati. I know not what I shall think of that : but I
am Launcelot, the Jew's man ; and I am sure 90
Margery your wife is my mother.
Gob. Her name is Margery, indeed : I '11 be sworn,
if thou be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh
and blood. Lord worshipped might he be !
what a beard hast thou got ! thou hast got more
hair on thy chin than Dobbin my fill-horse has
on his tail.
Laun. It should seem, then, that Dobbin's tail grows
backward : I am sure he had more hair of his
tail than I have of my face when I last saw him. 100
Gob. Lord, how art thou changed ! How dost
thou and thy master agree ? I have brought
him a present. How 'gree you now ?
Latm. Well, well : but, for mine own part, as I
have set up my rest to run away, so I will not
rest till I have run some ground. My master 's
a very Jew : give him a present ! give him a
halter : I am famished in his service ; you may
tell every finger I have with my ribs. Father,
I am glad you are come: give me your present no
to one Master Bassanio, who, indeed, gives rare
new liveries : if I serve not him, I will run as
far as God has any ground. O rare fortune !
here comes the man : to him, father j for I am
a Jew, if I serve the Jew any longer.
Act II. Sc. ii. THE MERCHANT
Enter Bassanio, with Leonardo and other followers.
Bass. You may do so ; but let it be so hasted, that
supper be ready at the farthest by five of the
clock. See these letters delivered ; put the
liveries to making -, and desire Gratiano to come
anon to my lodging. [Exit a Servant. 1 20
Latin. To him, father.
Gob. God bless your worship !
Bass. Gramercy ! wouldst thou aught with me ?
Gob. Here 's my son, sir, a poor boy, —
Laun. Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's
man ; that would, sir, — as my father shall
specify, —
Gob. He hath a great infection, sir, as one would
say, to serve —
Laun. Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the 130
Jew, and have a desire, — as my father shall
specify, —
Gob. His master and he, saving your worship's
reverence, are scarce cater-cousins, —
Laun. To be brief, the very truth is that the Jew,
having done me wrong, doth cause me, — as my
father, being, I hope, an old man, shall frutify
unto you, —
Gob. I have here a dish of doves that I would be-
stow upon your worship, and my suit is, — 140
Laun. In very brief, the suit is impertinent to myself,
as your worship shall know by this honest old
man ; and, though I say it, though old man,
yet poor man, my father.
Bass. One speak for both. What would you ?
OF VENICE Act II. Sc. ii,
Laun. Serve you, sir.
Gob. That is the very defect of the matter, sir.
Bass. I know thee well ; thou hast obtain'd thy suit :
Shylock thy master spoke with me this day,
And hath preferr'd thee, if it be preferment 150
To leave a rich Jew's service, to become
The follower of so poor a gentleman.
Laun. The old proverb is very well parted between
my master Shylock and you, sir : you have the
grace of God, sir, and he hath enough.
Bass. Thou speak'st it well. Go, father, with thy
son.
Take leave of thy old master and inquire
My lodging out. Give him a livery
More guarded than his fellows' : see it done.
Laun. Father, in. I cannot get a service, no; I have 1 60
ne'er a tongue in my head. Well, if any man
in Italy have a fairer table which doth offer to
swear upon a book, I shall have good fortune.
Go to, here's a simple line of life: here's a
small trifle of wives : alas, fifteen wives is
nothing ! a'leven widows and nine maids is a
simple coming-in for one man : and then to 'scape
drowning thrice, and to be in peril of my life
with the edge of a feather-bed ; here are simple
scapes. Well, if Fortune be a woman, she's a 170
good wench for this gear. Father, come ; I '11
take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an
eye. [Exeunt Launcelot and Old Gobbo.
Bass. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this :
These things being bought and orderly bestow'd,
Return in haste, for I do feast to-night
Act II. Sc. ii. THE MERCHANT
My best-esteem'd acquaintance : hie thee, go.
Leon. My best endeavours shall be done herein.
Enter Gratiano.
Gra. Where is your master ?
Leon. Yonder, sir, he walks. [Exit.
Gra. Signior Bassanio, — l8o
Bass. Gratiano !
Gra. I have a suit to you.
Bass. You have obtain'd it.
Gra. You must not deny me : I must go with you to
Belmont.
Bass. Why, then you must. But hear thee, Gratiano :
Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice ;
Parts that become thee happily enough,
And in such eyes as ours appear not faults ;
But where thou art not known, why there they show
Something too liberal. Pray thee, take pain 190
To allay with some cold drops of modesty
Thy skipping spirit ; lest, through thy wild behaviour,
I be misconstrued in the place I go to,
And lose my hopes.
Gra. Signior Bassanio, hear me :
If I do not put on a sober habit,
Talk with respect, and swear but now and then,
Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely ;
Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes
Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say ' amen ; '
Use all the observance of civility, 200
Like one well studied in a sad ostent
To please his grandam, never trust me more.
Bass. Well, we shall see your bearing.
OF VENICE Act II. Sc. iii.
Gra. Nay, but I bar to-night : you shall not gauge me
By what we do to-night.
Bass. No, that were pity :
I would entreat you rather to put on
Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends
That purpose merriment. But fare you well :
1 have some business.
Gra. And I must to Lorenzo and the rest : 210
But we will visit you at supper- time. [Exeunt.
Scene III.
The same. A room in Shyloctts house.
Enter Jessica and Launcelot.
Jes. I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so :
Our house is hell ; and thou, a merry devil,
Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness.
But fare thee well ; there is a ducat for thee :
And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see
Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest :
Give him this letter; do it secretly ;
And so farewell : I would not have my father
See me in talk with thee.
Laun. Adieu ! tears exhibit my tongue. Most io
beautiful pagan, most sweet Jew ! if a Christian
did not play the knave, and get thee, I am much
deceived. But, adieu : these foolish drops do
something drown my manly spirit : adieu.
Jes. Farewell, good Launcelot. [Exit Launcelot.
Alack, what heinous sin is it in me
To be ashamed to be my father's child !
But though I am a daughter to his blood,
Act II. Sc iv. THE MERCHANT
I am not to his manners. O Lorenzo,
If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife, 20
Become a Christian, and thy loving wife. Exit.
Scene IV.
The same. A street.
Enter Gratlano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and Salanio.
Lor. Nay, we will slink away in supper-time,
Disguise us at my lodging, and return
All in an hour.
Gra. We have not made good preparation.
Salar. We have not spoke us yet of torch-bearers.
Salan. 'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly order'd,
And better in my mind not undertook.
Lor. 'Tis now but four o'clock : we have two hours
To furnish us.
Enter Launcelot, with a letter.
Friend Launcelot, what's the news?
Latin. An it shall please you to break up this, it shall 10
seem to signify.
Lor. I know the hand : in faith, 'tis a fair hand ;
And whiter than the paper it writ on
Is the fair hand that writ.
Gra. Love-news, in faith.
Laun. By your leave, sir.
Lor. Whither goest thou ?
Laun. Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew to
sup to-night with my new master the Christian.
Lor. Hold here, take this : tell gentle Jessica
I will not fail her ; speak it privately. 20
OF VENICE Act II. Sc. v.
Go, gentlemen, [Exit Launcelot.
Will you prepare you for this masque to-night ?
I am provided of a torch-bearer.
Salar. Ay, marry, I '11 begone about it straight.
Salan. And so will I.
Lor. Meet me and Gratiano
At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence.
Salar. 'Tis good we do so. [Exeunt Salar. and Salan.
Gra. Was not that letter from fair Jessica ?
Lor. I must needs tell thee all. She hath directed
How I shall take her from her father's house ; 30
What gold and jewels she is furnish'd with ;
What page's suit she hath in readiness.
If e'er the Jew her father come to heaven,
It will be for his gentle daughter's sake :
And never dare misfortune cross her foot,
Unless she do it under this excuse,
That she is issue to a faithless Jew.
Come, go with me ; peruse this as thou goest :
Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer. [Exeunt.
Scene V.
The same. Before Shylock's bouse.
Enter Shylock and Launcelot.
Shy. Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy judge,
The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio : —
What, Jessica ! — thou shalt not gormandise,
As thou hast done with me : — What, Jessica ! —
And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out ; —
Why, Jessica, I say !
Laun. Why, Jessica !
Att "' SC V' THE MERCHANT
Shy. Who bids thee call ? I do not bid thee call.
Latin. Your worship was wont to tell me that I could
do nothing without bidding.
Enter Jessica.
Jes. Call you ? what is your will ? 10
Shy. I am bid forth to supper, Jessica :
There are my keys. But wherefore should I go ?
I am not bid for love ; they flatter me :
But yet I '11 go in hate, to feed upon
The prodigal Christian. Jessica, my girl,
Look to my house. I am right loath to go :
There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest,
For I did dream of money-bags to-night.
Laun. I beseech you, sir, go : my young master doth
expect your reproach. 20
Shy. So do I his.
Laun. And they have conspired together, I will not
say you shall see a masque ; but if you do, then
it was not for nothing that my nose fell a-bleed-
ing on Black-Monday last at six o'clock i' the
morning, falling out that year on Ash-Wednes-
day was four year, in the afternoon.
Shy. What, are there masques ? Hear you me, Jessica :
Lock up my doors ; and when you hear the drum,
And the vile squealing of the wry-neck'd fife, 30
Clamber not you up to the casements then,
Nor thrust your head into the public street
To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces ;
But stop my house's ears, I mean my casements :
Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter
My sober house. By Jacob's staff, I swear
OF VENICE Act II. Sc. vi.
I have no mind of feasting forth to-night :
But I will go. Go you before me, sirrah ;
Say I will come.
Laun. I will go before, sir. Mistress, look out at 40
window, for all this ;
There will come a Christian by,
Will be worth a Jewess' eye. [Exit.
Shy. What says the fool of Hagar's offspring, ha ?
Jes. His words were, ' Farewell, mistress ; ' nothing else.
Shy. The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder ;
Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day
More than the wild-cat : drones hive not with me ;
Therefore I part with him ; and part with him
To one that I would have him help to waste 50
His borrow'd purse. Well, Jessica, go in :
Perhaps I will return immediately :
Do as I bid you ; shut doors after you :
Fast bind, fast find,
A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. [Exit.
Jes. Farewell ; and if my fortune be not crost,
I have a father, you a daughter, lost. [Exit.
Scene VI.
The same.
Enter Gratiano and Salarino, masqued.
Gra. This is the pent-house under which Lorenzo
Desired us to make stand.
Salar. His hour is almost past.
Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour,
For lovers ever run before the clock.
Salar. O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly
Act II. Sc. vi. THE MERCHANT
To seal love's bonds new-made, than they are wont
To keep obliged faith unforfeited !
Gra. That ever holds : who riseth from a feast
With that keen appetite that he sits down ?
Where is the horse that doth untread again io
His tedious measures with the unbated fire
That he did pace them first ? All things that are,
Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd.
How like a younker or a prodigal
The scarfed bark puts from her native bay,
Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind !
How like the prodigal doth she return,
With over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails,
Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind !
Salar. Here comes Lorenzo : more of this hereafter. 20
Enter Lorenzo.
Lor. Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode ;
Not I, but my affairs, have made you wait :
When you shall please to play the thieves for wives,
I '11 watch as long for you then. Approach ;
Here dwells my father Jew. Ho ! who 's within ?
Enter Jessica, above, in boy's clothes.
Jes. Who are you ? Tell me, for more certainty,
Albeit I '11 swear that I do know your tongue.
Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love.
Jes. Lorenzo, certain ; and my love, indeed,
For who love I so much ? And now who knows
But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours ? 31
Lor. Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou
art.
OF VENICE Act IL Sc" V1"
Jes. Here, catch this casket j it is worth the paias.
I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me,
For I am much ashamed of my exchange :
But love is blind, and lovers cannot see
The pretty follies that themselves commit ;
For if they could, Cupid himself would blush
To see me thus transformed to a boy.
Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer. 40
Jes. What, must I hold a candle to my shames ?
They in themselves, good sooth, are too too light.
Why, 'tis an office of discovery, love ;
And I should be obscured.
Lor. So are you, sweet,
Even in the lovely garnish of a boy.
But come at once ;
For the close night doth play the runaway,
And we are stay'd for at Bassanio's feast.
Jes. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself
With some mo ducats, and be with you straight. 50
[Exit above.
Gra. Now, by my hood, a Gentile, and no Jew.
Lor. Beshrew me but I love her heartily ;
For she is wise, if I can judge of her ;
And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true ;
And true she is, as she hath proved herself;
And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true,
Shall she be placed in my constant soul.
Enter Jessica, below.
What, art thou come ? On, gentlemen ; away !
Our masquing mates by this time for us stay.
[Exit ivith Jessica and Salarino.
3 c
Act II. Sc. vii. THE MERCHANT
Enter Antonio.
Ant. Who 's there ? 60
Gra. Signior Antonio !
Ant. Fie, fie, Gratiano ; where are all the rest ?
'Tis nine o'clock : our friends all stay for you.
No masque to-night : the wind is come about ;
Bassanio presently will go aboard :
I have sent twenty out to seek for you.
Gra. I am glad on 't : I desire no more delight
Than to be under sail and gone to-night. [Exeunt.
Scene VII.
Belmont. A room in Portia s house.
Flourish of cornets. Enter Portia, ivith the Prince of
Morocco, and their trains.
Por. Go draw aside the curtains, and discover
The several caskets to this noble prince.
Now make your choice.
Mor. The first, of gold, who this inscription bears,
* Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire;'
The second, silver, which this promise carries,
'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves;'
This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt,
' Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.'
How shall I know if I do choose the right ? 10
Por. The one of them contains my picture, prince :
If you choose that, then I am yours withal.
Mor. Some god direct my judgement ! Let me see ;
I will survey the inscriptions back again.
What says this leaden casket ?
OF VENICE Act II. Sc. vii.
• Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.'
Must give, — for what ? for lead ? hazard for lead ?
This casket threatens. Men that hazard all
Do it in hope of fair advantages :
A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross ; 20
I '11 then nor give nor hazard aught for lead.
What says the silver with her virgin hue ?
1 Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.'
As much as he deserves ! Pause there, Morocco,
And weigh thy value with an even hand :
If thou be'st rated by thy estimation,
Thou dost deserve enough ; and yet enough
May not extend so far as to the lady :
And yet to be afeared of my deserving
Were but a weak disabling of myself. go
As much as I deserve ! Why, that 's the lady :
I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes,
In graces and in qualities of breeding ;
But more than these, in love I do deserve.
What if I stray'd no further, but chose here ?
Let 's see once more this saying graved in gold ;
' Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.'
Why, that 's the lady ; all the world desires her ;
From the four corners of the earth they come,
To kiss this shrine, this mortal-breathing saint : 40
The Hyrcanian deserts and the vasty wilds
Of wide Arabia are as throughfares now
For princes to come view fair Portia :
The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head
Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar
To stop the foreign spirits ; but they come,
As o'er a brook, to see fair Portia.
Act II. Sc. vii. THE MERCHANT
One of these three contains her heavenly picture.
Is 't like that lead contains her ? 'Twere damnation
To think so base a thought : it were too gross 5°
To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave.
Or shall I think in silver she's immured,
Being ten times undervalued to tried gold ?
O sinful thought ! Never so rich a gem
Was set in worse than gold. They have in England
A coin that bears the figure of an angel
Stamped in gold, but that's insculp'd upon j
But here an angel in a golden bed
Lies all within. Deliver me the key :
Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may ! 60
For. There, take it, prince \ and if my form lie there,
Then I am yours. [He unlocks the golden casket.
Mor. O hell ! what have we here ?
A carrion Death, within whose empty eye
There is a written scroll ! I '11 read the writing.
[Reads] All that glisters is not gold ;
Often have you heard that told :
Many a man his life hath sold
But my outside to behold :
Gilded tombs do worms infold.
Had you been as wise as bold, Jo
Young in limbs, in judgement old,
Your answer had not been inscroll'd :
Fare you well ; your suit is cold.
Cold, indeed ; and labour lost :
Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost !
Portia, adieu. I have too grieved a heart
To take a tedious leave : thus losers part.
[Exit with his train. Flourish of cornets.
OF VENICE Act II. Sc. viii.
Por. A gentle riddance. Draw the curtains, go.
Let all of his complexion choose me so. {Exeunt.
Scene VIII.
Vetiice. A street.
Enter Salarino and Salanlo.
Salar. Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail :
With him is Gratiano gone along ;
And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not.
Salon. The villain Jew with outcries raised the Duke
Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship.
Salar. He came too late, the ship was under sail :
But there the Duke was given to understand
That in a gondola were seen together
Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica :
Besides, Antonio certified the Duke IO
They were not with Bassanio in his ship.
Salan. I never heard a passion so confused,
So strange, outrageous, and so variable,
As the dog Jew did utter in the streets :
' My daughter ! O my ducats ! O my daughter !
Fled with a Christian ! O my Christian ducats !
Justice ! the law ! my ducats, and my daughter !
A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats,
Of double ducats, stolen from me by my daughter !
And jewels, two stones, two rich and precious stones,
Stolen by my daughter ! Justice ! find the girl ! 21
She hath the stones upon her, and the ducats ! '
Salar. Why, all the boys in Venice follow him,
Crying, his stones, his daughter, and his ducats.
Act II. Sc. viii. THE MERCHANT
Salan. Let good Antonio look he keep his day,
Or he shall pay for this.
Salar. Marry, well remember'd.
I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday,
Who told me, in the narrow seas that part
The French and English, there miscarried
A vessel of our country richly fraught : go
I thought upon Antonio when he told me ;
And wish'd in silence that it were not his.
Salan. You were best to tell Antonio what you hear ;
Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him.
Salar. A kinder gentleman treads not the earth.
I saw Bassanio and Antonio part :
Bassanio told him he would make some speed
Of his return : he answer'd, ' Do not so ;
Slubber not business for my sake, Bassanio,
But stay the very riping of the time ; 40
And for the Jew's bond which he hath of me,
Let it not enter in your mind of love :
Be merry ; and employ your chiefest thoughts
To courtship, and such fair ostents of love
As shall conveniently become you there : '
And even there, his eye being big with tears,
Turning his face, he put his hand behind him,
And with affection wondrous sensible
He wrung Bassanio's hand ; and so they parted.
Salan. I think he only loves the world for him. 50
I pray thee, let us go and find him out,
And quicken his embraced heaviness
With some delight or other.
Salar. Do we so. [Exeunt.
OF VENICE Act II. Sc. ix.
Scene IX.
Belmont. A room in Portia s house.
Enter Nerissa and a Servitor.
Net: Quick, quick, I pray thee : draw the curtain straight :
The Prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath,
And comes to his election presently.
Flourish of cornets. Enter the Prince of Arragon, Portia,
and their trains.
Por. Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince :
If you choose that wherein I am contain'd,
Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemnized :
But if you fail, without more speech, my lord,
You must be gone from hence immediately.
Ar. I am enjoin'd by oath to observe three things :
First, never to unfold to any one io
Which casket 'twas I chose ; next, if I fail
Of the right casket, never in my life
To woo a maid in way of marriage :
Lastly,
If I do fail in fortune of my choice,
Immediately to leave you and be gone.
Por. To these injunctions every one doth swear
That comes to hazard for my worthless self.
Ar. And so have I address'd me. Fortune now
To my heart's hope ! Gold ; silver ; and base lead. 20
' Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.'
You shall look fairer, ere I give or hazard.
What says the golden chest ? ha ! let me see :
• Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.'
Act II. Sc. ix. THE MERCHANT
What many men desire ! that ' many ' may be meant
By the fool multitude, that choose by show,
Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach j
Which pries not to the interior, but, like the martlet,
Builds in the weather on the outward wall,
Even in the force and road of casualty. 30
I will not choose what many men desire,
Because I will not jump with common spirits,
And rank me with the barbarous multitudes.
Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure-house ;
Tell me once more what title thou dost bear :
1 Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves : '
And well said too ; for who shall go about
To cozen fortune, and be honourable
Without the stamp of merit ? Let none presume
To wear an undeserved dignity. 40
O, that estates, degrees and offices
Were not derived corruptly, and that clear honour
Were purchased by the merit of the wearer !
How many then should cover that stand bare !
How many be commanded that command !
How much low peasantry would then be glean'd
From the true seed of honour ! and how much honour
Pick'd from the chafFand ruin of the times,
To be new-varnish'd ! Well, but to my choice :
' Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.'
I will assume desert. Give me a key for this, 51
And instantly unlock my fortunes here.
[He opens the silver casket.
Pot: [As'ule~] Too long a pause for that which you find
there.
Ar. What 's here ? the portrait of a blinking idiot,
OF VENICE Act n. Sc. ix.
Presenting me a schedule ! I will read it.
How much unlike art thou to Portia !
How much unlike my hopes and my deservings !
' Who chooseth me shall have as much as he
deserves.'
Did I deserve no more than a fool's head ?
Is that my prize ? are my deserts no better ? 60
Por. To offend, and judge, are distinct offices,
And of opposed natures.
Ar. What is here ?
[Reads] The fire seven times tried this :
Seven times tried that judgement is,
That did never choose amiss.
Some there be that shadows kiss j
Such have but a shadow's bliss :
There be fools alive, I wis,
Silver'd o'er ; and so was this.
Take what wife you will to bed, 70
I will ever be your head :
So be gone : you are sped.
Still more fool I shall appear
By the time I linger here :
With one fool's head I came to woo,
But I go away with two.
Sweet, adieu. I '11 keep my oath,
Patiently to bear my wroth.
[Exeunt Arragon and train.
Por. Thus hath the candle singed the moth.
O, these deliberate fools ! when they do choose, 80
They have the wisdom by their wit to lose.
Ner. The ancient saying is no heresy,
Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.
Act III. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT
Por. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa.
Enter a Servant.
Serv. Where is my lady ?
Por. Here: what would my lord?
Serv. Madam, there is alighted at your gate
A young Venetian, one that comes before
To signify the approaching of his lord ;
From whom he bringeth sensible regreets,
To wit, besides commends and courteous breath, 90
Gifts of rich value. Yet I have not seen
So likely an ambassador of love :
A day in April never came so sweet,
To show how costly summer was at hand,
As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord.
Por. No more, I pray thee : I am half afeard
Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee,
Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him,
Come, come, Nerissa ; for I long to see
Quick Cupid's post that comes so mannerly. loo
Ner. Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be ! [Exeutit.
ACT THIRD.
Scene I.
Venice. A street.
Enter Salanio and Salarino.
Salan. Now, what news on the Rialto ?
Salar. Why, yet it lives there unchecked, that
Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wrecked
on the narrow seas ; the Goodwins, I think
OF VENICE Act III. Sc. i.
they call the place ; a very dangerous flat and
fatal, where the carcases of many a tall ship lie
buried, as they say, if my gossip Report be an
honest woman of her word.
Salan. I would she were as lying a gossip in that as
ever knapped ginger, or made her neighbours io
believe she wept for the death of a third hus-
band. But it is true, without any slips of pro-
lixity, or crossing the plain highway of talk,
that the good Antonio, the honest Antonio, —
O that I had a title good enough to keep his
name company ! —
Salar. Come, the full stop.
Salan. Ha ! what sayest thou ? Why, the end is,
he hath lost a ship.
Salar. I would it might prove the end of his 20
losses.
Salan. Let me say ' amen ' betimes, lest the devil
cross my prayer, for here he comes in the like-
ness of a Jew.
Enter Shy lock.
How now, Shylock ! what news among the
merchants ?
Shy. You knew, none so well, none so well as you,
of my daughter's flight.
Salar. That 's certain : I, for my part, knew the
tailor that made the wings she flew withal. go
Salan. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird
was fledged ; and then it is the complexion of
them all to leave the dam.
Shy. She is damned for it.
Act III. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT
Salar. That's certain, if the devil may be her judge.
Shy. My own flesh and blood to rebel !
Salan. Out upon it, old carrion ! rebels it at these
years ?
Shy. I say, my daughter is my flesh and blood.
Salar. There is more difference between thy flesh and 40
hers than between jet and ivory ; more between
your bloods than there is between red wine and
rhenish. But tell us, do you hear whether
Antonio have had any loss at sea or no ?
Shy. There I have another bad match : a bankrupt,
a prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the
Rialto ; a beggar, that was used to come so smug
upon the mart ; let him look to his bond : he was
wont to call me usurer ; let him look to his bond :
he was wont to lend money for a Christian 50
courtesy ; let him look to his bond.
Salar. Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not
take his flesh : what 's that good for ?
Shy. To bait fish withal : if it will feed nothing else,
it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me,
and hindered me half a million ; laughed at my
losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation,
thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated
mine enemies ; and what 's his reason ? I am a
Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes ? hath not a Jew 60
hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections,
passions ? fed with the same food, hurt with the
same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed
by the same means, warmed and cooled by the
same winter and summer, as a Christian is ? If
you prick us, do we not bleed ? if you tickle us,
OF VENICE Act III. Sc. i.
do we not laugh ? if you poison us, do we not
die ? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge ?
if we are like you in the rest, we will resemble
you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what 70
is his humility ? Revenge. If a Christian wrong
a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian
example ? Why, revenge. The villany you
teach me, I will execute ; and it shall go hard
but I will better the instruction.
Enter a Servant.
Serv. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his house,
and desires to speak with you both.
Salar. We have been up and down to seek him.
Enter Tubal.
Sedan. Here comes another of the tribe : a third cannot
be matched, unless the devil himself turn Jew. 80
[Exeunt Salon. Salar. and Servant.
Shy. How now, Tubal ! what news from Genoa ? hast
thou found my daughter ?
Tub. I often came where I did hear of her, but cannot
find her.
Shy. Why, there, there, there, there ! a diamond gone,
cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort ! The
curse never fell upon our nation till now ; I never
felt it till now : two thousand ducats in that ; and
other precious, precious jewels. I would my
daughter were dead at my foot, and the jewels 90
in her ear ! would she were hearsed at my foot,
and the ducats in her coffin ! No news of them ?
Why, so : — and I know not what 's spent in the
Act III. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT
search ; why, thou loss upon loss ! the thief gone
with so much, and so much to find the thief; and
no satisfaction, no revenge : nor no ill luck stir-
ring but what lights on my shoulders ; no sighs
but of my breathing ; no tears but of my shed-
ding.
Tub. Yes, other men have ill luck too : Antonio, as I loo
heard in Genoa, —
Shy. What, what, what ? ill luck, ill luck ?
Tub. Hath an argosy cast away, coming from Tripolis.
Shy. I thank God, I thank God ! Is 't true, is 't true ?
Tub. I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the
wreck.
Shy. I thank thee, good Tubal : good news, good news!
ha, ha ! where ? in Genoa ?
Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, in
one night fourscore ducats. IIO
Shy. Thou stick'st a dagger in me: I shall never see
my gold again : fourscore ducats at a sitting !
fourscore ducats !
Tub. There came divers of Antonio's creditors in my
company to Venice, that swear he cannot choose
but break.
Shy. I am very glad of it : I '11 plague him ; I '11 torture
him : I am glad of it.
Tub. One of them showed me a ring that he had of
your daughter for a monkey. 120
Shy. Out upon her! Thou torturest me, Tubal: it
was my turquoise ; I had it of Leah when I was
a bachelor : I would not have given it for a
wilderness of monkeys.
Tub. But Antonio is certainly undone.
OF VENICE Act III. Sc. ii.
Shy. Nay, that's true, that's very true. Go, Tubal,
fee me an officer ; bespeak him a fortnight
before. I will have the heart of him, if he
forfeit ; for, were he out of Venice, I can
make what merchandise I will. Go, go, Tubal, 120
and meet me at our synagogue ; go, good
Tubal j at our synagogue, Tubal. [Exeunt.
Scene II.
Belmont. A room in Portia s house.
Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, Nerissa, and Attendants.
Por. I pray you, tarry : pause a day or two
Before you hazard ; for, in choosing wrong,
I lose your company : therefore forbear awhile.
There's something tells me, but it is not love,
I would not lose you ; and you know yourself,
Hate counsels not in such a quality.
But lest you should not understand me well, —
And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought, —
I would detain you here some month or two
Before you venture for me. I could teach you 10
How to choose right, but I am then forsworn ;
So will I never be : so may you miss me ;
But if you do, you '11 make me wish a sin,
That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes,
They have o'er-look'd me, and divided me ;
One half of me is yours, the other half yours,
Mine own, I would say ; but if mine, then yours,
And so all yours ! O, these naughty times
Put bars between the owners and their rights !
And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it so, 20
Act III. Sc. ii. THE MERCHANT
Let fortune go to hell for it, not I.
I speak, too long ; but 'tis to peize the time,
To eke it and to draw it out in length,
To stay you from election.
Bass. Let me choose j
For as I am, I live upon the rack.
Por. Upon the rack, Bassanio ! then confess
What treason there is mingled with your love.
Bass. None but that ugly treason of mistrust,
Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love :
There may as well be amity and life 30
'Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love.
Por. Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack,
Where men enforced do speak any thing.
Bass. Promise me life, and I '11 confess the truth.
Por. Well then, confess and live.
Bass. ' Confess,' and ' love,'
Had been the very sum of my confession :
O happy torment, when my torturer
Doth teach me answers for deliverance !
But let me to my fortune and the caskets.
Por. Away, then ! I am lock'd in one of them : 40
If you do love me, you will find me out.
Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof.
Let music sound while he doth make his choice ;
Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end,
Fading in music : that the comparison
May stand more proper, my eye shall be the
stream,
And watery death-bed for him. He may win j
And what is music then ? Then music is
Even as the flourish when true subjects bow
OF VENICE Act III. Sc. ii.
To a new-crowned monarch : such it is 50
As are those dulcet sounds in break of day
That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear,
And summon him to marriage. Now he goes,
With no less presence, but with much more love,
Than young Alcides, when he did redeem
The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy
To the sea-monster : I stand for sacrifice ;
The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives,
With bleared visages, come forth to view
The issue of the exploit. Go, Hercules ! 60
Live thou, I live : with much much more dismay
I view the fight than thou that makest the fray.
Music, whilst Bassanio comments on the caskets to himself.
Song.
Tell me where is fancy bred,
Or in the heart or in the head ?
How begot, how nourished ?
Reply, reply.
It is engender'd in the eyes,
With gazing fed ; and fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies.
Let us all ring fancy's knell ; 70
I'll begin it, — Ding, dong, bell.
All. Ding, dong, bell.
Bass. So may the outward shows be least themselves :
The world is still deceived with ornament.
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt,
But, being season'd with a gracious voice,
Obscures the show of evil ? In religion,
What damned error, but some sober brow
3 D
Act III. Sc. ii. THE MERCHANT
Will bless it, and approve it with a text,
Hiding the grossness with fair ornament ? 80
There is no vice so simple, but assumes
Some mark of virtue on his outward parts :
How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins
The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars j
Who, inward search'd, have livers white as milk ;
And these assume but valour's excrement
To render them redoubted ! Look on beauty,
And you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight ;
Which therein works a miracle in nature, 90
Making them lightest that wear most of it :
So are those crisped snaky golden locks
Which make such wanton gambols with the wind,
Upon supposed fairness, often known
To be the dowry of a second head,
The skull that bred them in the sepulchre.
Thus ornament is but the guiled shore
To a most dangerous sea ; the beauteous scarf
Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word,
The seeming truth which cunning times put on IOO
To entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy gold,
Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee ;
Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge
'Tween man and man: but thou, thou meagre lead,
Which rather threatencst than dost promise aught,
Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence ;
And here choose I : joy be the consequence !
Por. [Aside] How all the other passions fleet to air,
As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embraced despair,
And shuddering fear, and green-eyed jealousy ! HO
OF VENICE Act 1
0 love, be moderate ; allay thy ecstasy ;
In measure rain thy joy ; scant this excess !
1 feel too much thy blessing : make it less,
For fear I surfeit !
Bass. What find I here ?
[Opening the leaden casket.
Fair Portia's counterfeit ! What demi-god
Hath come so near creation ? Move these eyes ?
Or whether, riding on the balls of mine,
Seem they in motion ? Here are sever'd lips,
Parted with sugar breath : so sweet a bar
Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her hairs
The painter plays the spider, and hath woven 121
A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men,
Faster than gnats in cobwebs : but her eyes, —
How could he see to do them ? having made one,
Methinks it should have power to steal both his
And leave itself unfurnish'd. Yet look, how far
The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow
In underprizing it, so far this shadow
Doth limp behind the substance. Here 's the scroll,
The continent and summary of my fortune. 130
[Reads] You that choose not by the view,
Chance as fair, and choose as true !
Since this fortune falls to you,
Be content and seek no new.
If you be well pleased with this,
And hold your fortune for your bliss,
Turn you where your lady is,
And claim her with a loving kiss.
A gentle scroll. Fair lady, by your leave ;
I come by note, to give and to receive. 140
Act III. Sc. ii. THE MERCHANT
Like one of two contending in a prize,
That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes,
Hearing applause and universal shout,
Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt
Whether those peals of praise be his or no ;
So, thrice-fair lady, stand I, even so ;
As doubtful whether what I see be true,
Until confirm'd, sign'd, ratified by you.
Por. You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand,
Such as I am : though for myself alone 150
I would not be ambitious in my wish,
To wish myself much better ; yet, for you
I would be trebled twenty times myself;
A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times
More rich ;
That only to stand high in your account,
I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends,
Exceed account ; but the full sum of me
Is sum of something, which, to term in gross,
Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractised-, 160
Happy in this, she is not yet so old
But she may learn ; happier than this,
She is not bred so dull but she can learn ;
Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit
Commits itself to yours to be directed,
As from her lord, her governor, her king.
Myself and what is mine to you and yours
Is now converted : but now I was the lord
Of this fair mansion, master of my servants,
Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now, 170
This house, these servants, and this same myself,
Are yours, my lord : I give them with this ring ;
OF VENICE Act lu- Sc. ii.
Which when you part from, lose, or give away,
Let it presage the ruin of your love,
And be my vantage to exclaim on you.
Bass. Madam, you have bereft me of all words,
Only my blood speaks to you in my veins ;
And there is such confusion in my powers,
As, after some oration fairly spoke
By a beloved prince, there doth appear 1 80
Among the buzzing pleased multitude j
"Where every something, being blent together,
Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy,
Express'd and not express'd. But when this ring
Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence :
O, then be bold to say Bassanio's dead !
Ner. My lord and lady, it is now our time,
That have stood by and seen our wishes prosper,
To cry, good joy : good joy, my lord and lady !
Gra. My lord Bassanio and my gentle lady, 190
I wish you all the joy that you can wish ;
For I am sure you can wish none from me :
And when your honours mean to solemnize
The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you,
Even at that time I may be married too.
Bass. With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife.
Gra. I thank your lordship, you have got me one.
My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours :
You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid ;
You loved, I loved for intermission. 20O
No more pertains to me, my lord, than you.
Your fortune stood upon the casket there,
And so did mine too, as the matter falls ;
For wooing here until I sweat again,
THE MERCHANT
And swearing till my very roof was dry
With oaths of love, at last, if promise last,
I got a promise of this fair one here
To have her love, provided that your fortune
Achieved her mistress.
For. Is this true, Nerissa ?
Ner. Madam, it is, so you stand pleased withal. 2IO
Bass. And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith ?
Gra. Yes, faith, my lord.
Bass. Our feast shall be much honoured in your marriage.
Gra. We'll play with them the first boy for a
thousand ducats.
Ner. What, and stake down ?
Gra. No; we shall ne'er win at that sport, and stake
down.
But who comes here ? Lorenzo and his infidel ?
What, and my old Venetian friend Salerio ? 220
Enter Lorenzo, Jessica, ami Salerio, a Messenger from Venice.
Bass. Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hither ;
If that the youth of my new interest here
Have power to bid you welcome. By your leave,
I bid my very friends and countrymen,
Sweet Portia, welcome.
Por. So do I, my lord :
They are entirely welcome.
Lor. I thank your honour. For my part, my lord,
My purpose was not to have seen you here ;
But meeting with Salerio by the way,
He did entreat me, past all saying nay, 230
To come with him along.
Sa/er. I did, my lord ;
OF VENICE Act H!. Sc. ii.
And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio
Commends him to you. [Gives Bassanio a letter.
Bass. Ere I ope this letter,
I pray you, tell me how my good friend doth.
Saler. Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind ;
Nor well, unless in mind : his letter there
Will show you his estate.
Gra. Nerissa, cheer yon stranger ; bid her welcome.
Your hand, Salerio : what's the news from Venice ?
How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio ? 240
I know he will be glad of our success ;
We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece.
Saler. I would you had won the fleece that he hath lost.
Por. There are some shrewd contents in yon same paper,
That steals the colour from Bassanio's cheek :
Some dear friend dead ; else nothing in the world
Could turn so much the constitution
Of any constant man. What, worse and worse !
With leave, Bassanio ; I am half yourself,
And I must freely have the half of anything 250
That this same paper brings you.
Bass. O sweet Portia,
Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words
That ever blotted paper ! Gentle lady,
When I did first impart my love to you,
I freely told you, all the wealth I had
Ran in my veins, I was a gentleman ;
And then I told you true : and yet, dear lady,
Rating myself at nothing, you shall see
How much I was a braggart. When I told you
My state was nothing, I should then have told you
That I was worse than nothing ; for, indeed, 261
THE MERCHANT
I have engaged myself to a dear friend,
Engaged my friend to his mere enemy,
To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady ;
The paper as the body of my friend,
And every word in it a gaping wound,
Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Salerio ?
Have all his ventures fail'd ? What, not one hit ?
From Tripolis, from Mexico, and England,
From Lisbon, Barbary, and India ? 270
And not one vessel scape the dreadful touch
Of merchant-marring rocks ?
Salar. Not one, my lord.
Besides, it should appear, that if he had
The present money to discharge the Jew,
He would not take it. Never did I know
A creature, that did bear the shape of man,
So keen and greedy to confound a man :
He plies the Duke at morning and at night ;
And doth impeach the freedom of the state,
If they deny him justice: twenty merchants, 280
The Duke himself, and the magnificoes
Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him j
But none can drive him from the envious plea
Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond.
Jes. When I was with him I have heard him swear
To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen,
That he would rather have Antonio's flesh
Than twenty times the value of the sum
That he did owe him : and I know, my lord,
If law, authority and power deny not, 290
It will go hard with poor Antonio.
Par. Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble ?
OF VENICE Act III. Sc. ii.
Bass. The dearest friend to me, the kindest man,
The best-condition'd and unwearied spirit
In doing courtesies ; and one in whom
The ancient Roman honour more appears
Than any that draws breath in Italy.
Por. What sum owes he the Jew ?
Bass. For me three thousand ducats.
Por. What, no more?
Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond ; 300
Double six thousand, and then treble that,
Before a friend of this description
Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault.
First go with me to church and call me wife,
And then away to Venice to your friend ;
For never shall you lie by Portia's side
With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold
To pay the petty debt twenty times over :
When it is paid, bring your true friend along.
My maid Nerissa and myself meantime 310
Will live as maids and widows. Come, away !
For you shall hence upon your wedding-day :
Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer:
Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear.
But let me hear the letter of your friend.
Bass, [reads] Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all mis-
carried, my creditors grow cruel, my estate is very
low, my bond to the Jew is forfeit; and since in
paying it, it is impossible I should live, all debts
are cleared between you and I, if I might but see 320
you at my death.- Notwithstanding, use your
pleasure : if your love do not persuade you to
come, let not my letter.
Act III. Sc. iii. THE MERCHANT
Por. O love, dispatch all business, and be gone !
Bass. Since I have your good leave to go away,
I will make haste : but, till I come again,
No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay,
No rest be interposer 'twixt us twain. [Exeunt.
Scene III.
Venice. A street.
Enter Shy lock, Salarino, Antonio, and Gaoler.
Shy. Gaoler, look to him : tell not me of mercy ;
This is the fool that lent out money gratis :
Gaoler, look to him.
Ant. Hear me yet, good Shylock.
Shy. I '11 have my bond ; speak not against my bond :
I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond.
Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause ;
But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs :
The Duke shall grant me justice. I do wonder,
Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond
To come abroad with him at his request. 10
Ant. I pray thee, hear me speak.
Shy. I '11 have my bond ; I will not hear thee speak :
I'll have my bond; and therefore speak no more.
I'll not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool,
To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield
To Christian intercessors. Follow not ;
I '11 have no speaking : I will have my bond. [Exit.
Salar. It is the most impenetrable cur
That ever kept with men.
Ant. Let him alone :
I'll follow him no more with bootless prayers. 20
OF VENICE Act III. Sc. iv.
He seeks my life ; his reason well I know ;
I oft deliver'd from his forfeitures
Many that have at times made moan to me ;
Therefore he hates me.
Salar. I am sure the Duke
Will never grant this forfeiture to hold.
Ant. The Duke cannot deny the course of law :
For the commodity that strangers have
With us in Venice, if it be denied, e
Will much impeach the justice of his state j
Since that the trade and profit of the city 30
Consisteth of all nations. Therefore, go :
Those griefs and losses have so bated me,
That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh
To-morrow to my bloody creditor.
Well, gaoler, on. Pray God, Bassanio come
To see me pay his debt, and then I care not !
[Exeunt.
Scene IV.
Belmont. A room in Portia s house.
Enter Portia, Nerissa, Lorenzo, Jessica, and Balthasar.
Lor. Madam, although I speak it in your presence,
You have a noble and a true conceit
Of god-like amity ; which appears most strongly
In bearing thus the absence of your lord.
But if you knew to whom you show this honour,
How true a gentleman you send relief,
How dear a lover of my lord your husband,
I know you would be prouder of the work
Than customary bounty can enforce you.
Act III. Sc. iv. THE MERCHANT
Por. I never did repent for doing good, io
Nor shall not now : for in companions
That do converse and waste the time together,
Whose souls do bear an equal yoke of love,
There must be needs a like proportion
Of lineaments, of manners and of spirit ;
"Which makes me think that this Antonio,
Being the bosom lover of my lord,
Must needs be like my lord. If it be so,
How little is the cost I have bestow'd
In purchasing the semblance of my soul 20
From out the state of hellish misery !
This comes too near the praising of myself;
Therefore no more of it : hear other things.
Lorenzo, I commit into your hands
The husbandry and manage of my house
Until my lord's return : for mine own part,
I have toward heaven breathed a secret vow
To live in prayer and contemplation,
Only attended by Nerissa here,
Until her husband and my lord's return : 30
There is a monastery two miles off;
And there will we abide. I do desire you
Not to deny this imposition ;
The which my love and some necessity
Now lays upon you.
Lor. Madam, with all my heart ;
I shall obey you in all fair commands.
Por. My people do already know my mind,
And will acknowledge you and Jessica
In place of Lord Bassanio and myself.
And so farewell, till we shall meet again. 40
OF VENICE Act III. Sc. iv.
Lor. Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you !
Jes. I wish your ladyship all heart's content.
Por. I thank you for your wish, and am well pleased
To wish it back on you : fare you well, Jessica.
\Exeii7it Jessica and Lorenzo.
Now, Balthasar,
As I have ever found thee honest-true,
So let me find thee still. Take this same letter,
And use thou all the endeavour of a man
In speed to Padua : see thou render this
Into my cousiu's hand, Doctor Bellario ; 50
And, look, what notes and garments he doth give thee,
Bring them, I pray thee, with imagined speed
Unto the tranect, to the common ferry
Which trades to Venice. Waste no time in words,
But get thee gone : I shall be there before thee.
Balth. Madam, I go with all convenient speed. [Exit.
Por. Come on, Nerissa ; I have work in hand
That you yet know not of; we'll see our husbands
Before they think of us.
Ner. Shall they see us ?
Por. They shall, Nerissa ; but in such a habit, 60
That they shall think we are accomplished
With that we lack. I'll hold thee any wager,
When we are both accoutred like young men,
I '11 prove the prettier fellow of the two,
And wear my dagger with a braver grace,
And speak between the change of man and boy
With a reed voice, and turn two mincing steps
Into a manly stride, and speak of frays
Like a fine bragging youth \ and tell quaint lies,
How honourable ladies sought my love, 70
Act III. Sc. v. THE MERCHANT
Which I denying, they fell sick and died ;
I could not do withal : then I '11 repent,
And wish, for all that, that I had not kili'd them ;
And twenty of these puny lies I '11 tell,
That men shall swear I have discontinued school
Above a twelvemonth. I have within my mind
A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks,
Which I will practise.
Ner. Why, shall we turn to men ?
For. Fie, what a question 's that,
If thou wert near a lewd interpreter ! 80
But come, I'll tell thee all my whole device
When I am in my coach, which stays for us
At the park-gate ; and therefore haste away,
For we must measure twenty miles to-day. [Exeunt.
Scene V.
The same. A garden.
Enter Launcelot and Jessica.
Laun. Yes, truly ; for, look you, the sins of the
father are to be laid upon the children :
therefore, I promise ye, I fear you. I was
always plain with you, and so now I speak my
agitation of the matter : therefore be of good
cheer; for, truly, I think you are damned.
There is but one hope in it that can do you
any good : and that is but a kind of bastard
hope neither.
Jes. And what hope is that, I pray thee? 10
Laun. Marry, you may partly hope that your father
got you not, that you are not the Jew's daughter.
OF VENICE Act III. Sc. v.
Jes. That were a kind of bastard hope, indeed : so
the sins of my mother should be visited upon
me.
Latin. Truly then I fear you are damned both by
father and mother : thus when I shun Scylla,
your father, I fall into Charybdis, your
mother : well, you are gone both ways.
Jes. I shall be saved by my husband ; he hath made 20
me a Christian.
Latin. Truly, the more to blame he : we were
Christians enow before ; e'en as many as could
well live, one by another. This making of
Christians will raise the price of hogs : if we
grow all to be pork-eaters, we shall not shortly
have a rasher on the coals for money.
Enter Lorenzo.
Jes. I'll tell my husband, Launcelot, what you say:
here he comes.
Lor. I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launcelot, 30
if you thus get my wife into corners.
Jes. Nay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo :
Launcelot and I are out. He tells me flatly,
there is no mercy for me in heaven, because I
am a Jew's daughter : and he says, you are no
good member of the commonwealth ; for, in
converting Jews to Christians, you raise the
price of pork.
Lor. I shall answer that better to the commonwealth
than you can the getting up of the negro's 40
belly : the Moor is with child by you,
Launcelot.
Act III. Sc. v. THE MERCHANT
Loan. It is much that the Moor should be more
than reason : but if she be less than an honest
woman, she is indeed more than I took her for.
Lor. How every fool can play upon the word ! I
think the best grace of wit will shortly turn into
silence ; and discourse grow commendable in
none only but parrots. Go in, sirrah ; bid
them prepare for dinner. 50
Laun. That is done, sir ; they have all stomachs.
Lor. Goodly Lord, what a wit-snapper are you !
then bid them prepare dinner.
Laun. That is done too, sir; only 'cover' is the word.
Lor. Will you cover, then, sir ?
Laun. Not so, sir, neither ; I know my duty.
Lor. Yet more quarrelling with occasion ! Wilt
thou show the whole wealth of thy wit in an
instant ? I pray thee, understand a plain man in
his plain meaning : go to thy fellows ; bid 60
them cover the table, serve in the meat, and we
will come in to dinner.
Laun. For the table, sir, it shall be served in ; for
the meat, sir, it shall be covered ; for your
coming in to dinner, sir, why, let it be as
humours and conceits shall govern. [Exit.
Lor. O dear discretion, how his words are suited !
The fool hath planted in his memory
An army of good words ; and I do know
A many fools, that stand in better place, "JO
Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word
Defy the matter. How cheer'st thou, Jessica ?
And now, good sweet, say thy opinion,
How dost thou like the Lord Bassanio's wife ?
OF VENICE Act IV. Sc. i.
Jes. Past all expressing. It is very meet
The Lord Bassanio live an upright life ;
For, having such a blessing in his lady,
He finds the joys of heaven here on earth ;
And if on earth he do not mean it, then
In reason he should never come to heaven. 80
Why, if two gods should play some heavenly match
And on the wager lay two earthly women,
And Portia one, there must be something else
Pawn'd with the other ; for the poor rude world
Hath not her fellow.
Lor. Even such a husband
Hast thou of me as she is for a wife.
Jes. Nay, but ask my opinion too of that.
Lor. I will anon : first, let us go to dinner.
Jes. Nay, let me praise you while I have a stomach.
Lor. No, pray thee, let it serve for table-talk ; 90
Then, howsoe'er thou speak'st, 'mong other things
I shall digest it.
Jes. Well, I'll set you forth. [Exeunt.
ACT FOURTH.
Scene I.
Venice. A court of justice.
Enter the Duke, the Magnificoes , Antonio, Bassanio,
Gratiano, Sa/erio, and others.
Duke. What, is Antonio here ?
Ant. Ready, so please your Grace.
Duke. I am sorry for thee : thou art come to answer
3 E
Act IV. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT
A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch
Uncapable of pity, void and empty
From any dram of mercy.
Ant. I have heard
Your Grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify
His rigorous course ; but since he stands obdurate,
And that no lawful means can carry me
Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose io
My patience to his fury ; and am arm'd
To suffer, with a quietness of spirit,
The very tyranny and rage of his.
Duke. Go one, and call the Jew into the court.
Saler. He is ready at the door : he comes, my lord.
Enter Shylock.
Duke. Make room, and let him stand before our face.
Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too,
That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice
To the last hour of act ; and then 'tis thought
Thou 'It show thy mercy and remorse more strange
Than is thy strange apparent cruelty ; 21
And where thou now exact'st the penalty,
Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh,
Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture,
But, touch'd with human gentleness and love,
Forgive a moiety of the principal ;
Glancing an eye of pity on his losses,
That have of late so huddled on his back,
Enow to press a royal merchant down,
And pluck commiseration of his state 30
From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint,
From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never train'd
OF VENICE Act IV. Sc. i.
To offices of tender courtesy.
We all expect a gentle answer, Jew.
Shy. I have possess'd your Grace of what I purpose ;
And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn
To have the due and forfeit of my bond :
If you deny it, let the danger light
Upon your charter and your city's freedom.
You '11 ask me, why I rather choose to have 40
A weight of carrion-flesh than to receive
Three thousand ducats : I '11 not answer that :
But, say, it is my humour : is it answer'd ?
What if my house be troubled with a rat,
And I be pleased to give ten thousand ducats
To have it baned ? What, are you answer'd yet ?
Some men there are love not a gaping pig ;
Some, that are mad if they behold a cat ;
And others, when the bagpipe sings i' the nose,
Cannot contain their urine : for affection, 50
Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood
Of what it likes or loathes. Now, for your answer,
As there is no firm reason to be render'd,
Why he cannot abide a gaping pig ;
Why he, a harmless necessary cat ;
Why he, a woollen bag-pipe ; but of force
Must yield to such inevitable shame
As to offend, himself being offended ;
So can I give no reason, nor I will not,
More than a lodged hate and a certain loathing 60
I bear Antonio, that I follow thus
A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd ?
Bass. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man,
To excuse the current of thy cruelty.
Act IV. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT
Shy. I am not bound to please thee with my answer.
Bass. Do all men kill the things they do not love ?
Shy. Hates any man the thing he would not kill ?
Bass. Every offence is not a hate at first.
Shy. What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice ?
Ant. I pray you, think you question with the Jew : 70
You may as well go stand upon the beach,
And bid the main flood bate his usual height ;
You may as well use question with the wolf,
Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb ;
You may as well forbid the mountain pines
To wag their high tops, and to make no noise,
When they are fretten with the gusts of heaven ;
You may as well do any thing most hard,
As seek to soften that — than which what 's harder ? —
His Jewish heart : therefore, I do beseech you, 80
Make no more offers, use no further means,
But with all brief and plain conveniency
Let me have judgement and the Jew his will.
Bass. For thy three thousand ducats here is six.
Shy. If every ducat in six thousand ducats
Were in six parts and every part a ducat,
I would not draw them ; I would have my bond.
Duke. How shalt thou hope for mercy, rendering none ?
Shy. What judgement shall I dread, doing no wrong ?
You have among you many a purchased slave, 90
Which, like your asses and your dogs and mules,
You use in abject and in slavish parts,
Because you bought them : shall I say to you,
Let them be free, marry them to your heirs ?
Why sweat they under burthens ? let their beds
Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates
OF VENICE Act IV. Sc. i.
Be season'd with such viands ? You will answer
' The slaves are ours : ' so do I answer you :
The pound of flesh, which I demand of him,
Is dearly bought ; 'tis mine and I will have it. ioo
If you deny me, fie upon your law !
There is no force in the decrees of Venice.
I stand for judgement : answer ; shall I have it ?
Duke: Upon my power I may dismiss this court,
Unless Bellario, a learned doctor,
Whom I have sent for to determine this,
Come here to-day.
Saler. My lord, here stays without
A messenger with letters from the doctor,
New come from Padua.
Duke. Bring us the letters; call the messenger. no
Bass. Good cheer, Antonio ! What, man, courage yet !
The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and all,
Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood.
Ant. I am a tainted wether of the flock,
Meetest for death : the weakest kind of fruit
Drops earliest to the ground ; and so let me :
You cannot better be employ'd, Bassanio,
Than to live still, and write mine epitaph.
Enter Nerissa, dressed like a lawyers clerk.
Duke. Came you from Padua, from Bellario ?
Ner. From both, my lord. Bellario greets your Grace.
[Presenting a letter.
Bass. Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly ? 1 2 1
Shy. To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there.
Gra. Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew,
Thou makest thy knife keen ; but no metal can,
Act IV. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT
No, not the hangman's axe, bear half the keenness
Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee ?
Sky. No, none that thou hast wit enough to make.
Gra. O, be thou damri'd, inexecrable dog !
And for thy life let justice be accused.
Thou almost makest me waver in my faith, 130
To hold opinion with Pythagoras,
That souls of animals infuse themselves
Into the trunks of men : thy currish spirit
Govern'd a wolf, who hang'd for human slaughter,
Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet,
And, whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallow'd dam,
Infused itself in thee ; for thy desires
Are wolvish, bloody, starved and ravenous.
Shy. Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond,
Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud : 140
Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall
To cureless ruin. I stand here for law.
Duke. This letter from Bellario doth commend
A young and learned doctor to our court.
Where is he ?
Ner. He attendeth here hard by,
To know your answer, whether you '11 admit him.
Duke. With all my heart. Some three or four of you
Go give him courteous conduct to this place.
Meantime the court shall hear Bellario's letter.
Clerk, [reads] Your Grace shall understand that at the 150
receipt of your letter I am very sick : but in the
instant that your messenger came, in loving visita-
tion was with me a young doctor of Rome ; his
name is Balthasar. I acquainted him with the
cause in controversy between the Jew and Antonio
OF VENICE Act IV. Sc. i.
the merchant : we turned o'er many books to-
gether : he is furnished with my opinion ; which,
bettered with his own learning, — the greatness
whereof I cannot enough commend, — comes with
him, at my importunity, to fill up your Grace's 1 60
request in my stead. I beseech you, let his lack
of years be no impediment to let him lack a
reverend estimation ; for I never knew so young
a body with so old a head. I leave him to your
gracious acceptance, whose trial shall better
publish his commendation.
Duke. You hear the learn'd Bellario, what he writes :
And here, I take it, is the doctor come.
Enter Portia for Balthasar.
Give me your hand. Come you from old Bellario ?
For. I did, my lord.
Duke. You are welcome : take your place.
Are you acquainted with the difference 171
That holds this present question in the court ?
Por. I am informed throughly of the cause.
Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew ?
Duke. Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth.
Por. Is your name Shylock ?
Shy. Shylock is my name.
Por. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow •,
Yet in such rule that the Venetian law
Cannot impugn you as you do proceed.
You stand within his danger, do you not ? 180
Ant. Ay, so he says.
Por. Do you confess the bond ?
Ant. I do.
Act IV. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT
Por. Then must the Jew be merciful.
Shy. On what compulsion must I ? tell me that.
Por. The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath : it is twice blest ;
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes :
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest : it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown ;
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 190
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings ;
But mercy is above this sceptred sway ;
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,
It is an attribute to God himself;
And earthly power doth then show likest God's
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,
Though justice be thy plea, consider this,
That, in the course of justice, none of us
Should see salvation : we do pray for mercy ; 200
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much
To mitigate the justice of thy plea;
Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice
Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there.
Shy. My deeds upon my head ! I crave the law,
The penalty and forfeit of my bond.
Por. Is he not able to discharge the money ?
Bass. Yes, here I tender it for him in the court ;
Yea, twice the sum : if that will not suffice, 210
I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er,
On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart :
If this will not suffice, it must appear
OF VENICE Act IV. Sc. i.
That malice bears down truth. And I beseech
you,
Wrest once the law to your authority :
To do a great right, do a little wrong,
And curb this cruel devil of his will.
Por. It must not be ; there is no power in Venice
Can alter a decree established :
'Twill be recorded for a precedent, 220
And many an error, by the same example,
Will rush into the state : it cannot be.
Shy. A Daniel come to judgement ! yea, a Daniel !
O wise young judge, how I do honour thee !
Por. I pray you, let me look upon the bond.
Shy. Here 'tis, most reverend doctor, here it is.
Por. Shylock, there 's thrice thy money offer'd thee.
Shy. An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven :
Shall I lay perjury upon my soul ?
No, not for Venice.
Por. Why, this bond is forfeit; 230
And lawfully by this the Jew may claim
A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off
Nearest the merchant's heart. Be merciful :
Take thrice thy money ; bid me tear the bond.
Shy. When it is paid according to the tenour.
It doth appear you are a worthy judge j
You know the law, your exposition
Hath been most sound : I charge you by the law,
Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar,
Proceed to judgement : by my soul I swear 240
There is no power in the tongue of man
To alter me : I stay here on my bond.
Ant. Most heartily I do beseech the court
Act IV. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT
To give the judgement.
Por. Why then, thus it is :
You must prepare your bosom for his knife.
Shy. O noble judge ! O excellent young man !
Por. For the intent and purpose of the law
Hath full relation to the penalty,
Which here appeareth due upon the bond.
Shy. 'Tis very true : O wise and upright judge ! 250
How much more elder art thou than thy looks !
Por. Therefore lay bare your bosom.
Shy. Ay, his breast :
So says the bond : — doth it not, noble judge? —
' Nearest his heart : ' those are the very words.
Por. It is so. Are there balance here to weigh
The flesh ?
Shy. I have them ready.
Por. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge,
To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death.
Shy. Is it so nominated in the bond ?
Por. It is not so express'd : but what of that ? 260
'Twere good you do so much for charity.
Shy. I cannot find it ; 'tis not in the bond.
Por. You, merchant, have you any thing to say?
Ant. But little : I am arm'd and well prepared.
Give me your hand, Bassanio : fare you well !
Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you ;
For herein Fortune shows herself more kind
Than is her custom : it is still her use
To let the wretched man outlive his wealth,
To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow 270
An age of poverty ; from which lingering penance
Of such misery doth she cut me off.
OF VENICE Act IV. Sc. i.
Commend me to your honourable wife :
Tell her the process of Antonio's end ;
Say how I loved you, speak me fair in death ;
And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge
Whether Bassanio had not once a love.
Repent but you that you shall lose your friend,
And he repents not that he pays your debt ;
And if the Jew do cut but deep enough, 280
I '11 pay it presently with all my heart.
Bass. Antonio, I am married to a wife
Which is as dear to me as life itself;
But life itself, my wife, and all the world,
Are not with me esteem'd above thy life :
I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all
Here to this devil, to deliver you.
Por. Your wife would give you little thanks for that,
If she were by, to hear you make the offer.
Gra. I have a wife, whom, I protest, I love : 290
I would she were in heaven, so she could
Entreat some power to change this currish Jew.
Ner. 'Tis well you offer it behind her back ;
The wish would make else an unquiet house.
Shy. These be the Christian husbands. I have a daughter ;
Would any of the stock of Barrabas
Had been her husband rather than a Christian ! \Aside.
We trifle time : I pray thee, pursue sentence.
Por. A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine :
The court awards it, and the law doth give it. 300
Shy. Most rightful judge !
Por. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast :
The law allows it, and the court awards it.
Shy. Most learned judge ! A sentence ! Come, prepare !
Act IV. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT
Por. Tarry a little ; there is something else.
This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood ;
The words expressly are ' a pound of flesh ' :
Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh ;
But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed
One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods
Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate 3 1 1
Unto the state of Venice.
Gra. O upright judge ! Mark, Jew : O learned judge !
Shy. Is that the law ?
Por. Thyself shalt see the act :
For, as thou urgest justice, be assured
Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest.
Gra. O learned judge ! Mark, Jew : a learned judge !
Shy. I take this offer, then ; pay the bond thrice,
And let the Christian go.
Bass. Here is the money.
Por. Soft ! 320
The Jew shall have all justice ; soft ! no haste :
He shall have nothing but the penalty.
Gra. O Jew ! an upright judge, a learned judge !
Por. Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh.
Shed thou no blood ; nor cut thou less nor more
But just a pound of flesh : if thou cut'st more
Or less than a just pound, be it but so much
As makes it light or heavy in the substance,
Or the division of the twentieth part
Of one poor scruple, nay, if the scale do turn 330
But in the estimation of a hair,
Thou diest and all thy goods are confiscate.
Gra. A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew !
Now, infidel, I have you on the hip.
OF VENICE Act IV. Sc. i.
Por. Why doth the Jew pause ? take thy forfeiture.
Shy. Give me my principal, and let me go.
Bass. I have it ready for thee ; here it is.
Por. He hath refused it in the open court :
He shall have merely justice and his bond.
Gra. A Daniel, still say I, a second Daniel ! 340
I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word.
Shy. Shall I not have barely my principal ?
Por. Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture,
To be so taken at thy peril, Jew.
Shy. Why, then the devil give him good of it !
I '11 stay no longer question.
Por. Tarry, Jew :
The law hath yet another hold on you.
It is enacted in the laws of Venice,
If it be proved against an alien
That by direct or indirect attempts 350
He seek the life of any citizen,
The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive
Shall seize one half his goods ; the other half
Comes to the privy coffer of the state ;
And the offender's life lies in the mercy
Of the Duke only, 'gainst all other voice.
In which predicament, I say, thou stand'st ;
For it appears, by manifest proceeding,
That indirectly, and directly too,
Thou hast contrived against the very life 360
Of the defendant ; and thou hast incurr'd
The danger formerly by me rehearsed.
Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke.
Gra. Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thyself:
And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state,
Act IV. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT
Thou hast not left the value of a cord ;
Therefore thou must be hang'd at the state's charge.
Duke. That thou shalt see the difference of our spirits,
I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it :
For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's; 370
The other half comes to the general state,
Which humbleness may drive unto a fine.
Por. Ay, for the state, not for Antonio.
Shy. Nay, take my life and all ; pardon not that :
You take my house, when you do take the prop
That doth sustain my house ; you take my life,
When you do take the means whereby I live.
Por. What mercy can you render him, Antonio?
Gra. A halter gratis ; nothing else, for God's sake.
Ant. So please my lord the Duke and all the court 380
To quit the fine for one half of his goods,
I am content ; so he will let me have
The other half in use, to render it,
Upon his death, unto the gentleman
That lately stole his daughter :
Two things provided more, that, for this favour,
He presently become a Christian ;
The other, that he do record a gift,
Here in the court, of all he dies possess'd,
Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter. 390
Duke. He shall do this, or else I do recant
The pardon that I late pronounced here.
Por. Art thou contented, Jew ? what dost thou say ?
Shy. I am content.
Por. Clerk, draw a deed of gift.
Shy. I pray you, give me leave to go from hence ;
I am not well : send the deed after me,
OF VENICE Act IV- Sc- *•
And I will sign it.
Duke. Get thee gone, but do it.
Gra. In christening shalt thou have two godfathers :
Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten
more,
To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. 400
[Exit Shy lock.
Duke. Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner.
Por. I humbly do desire your Grace of pardon :
I must away this night toward Padua,
And it is meet I presently set forth.
Duke. I am sorry that your leisure serves you not.
Antonio, gratify this gentleman,
For, in my mind, you are much bound to him.
[Exeunt Duke and his train.
Bass. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend
Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted
Of grievous penalties ; in lieu whereof, 410
Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew,
We freely cope your courteous pains withal.
Ant. And stand indebted, over and above,
In love and service to you evermore.
Por. He is well paid that is well satisfied ;
And I, delivering you, am satisfied,
And therein do account myself well paid :
My mind was never yet more mercenary.
I pray you, know me when we meet again :
I wish you well, and so I take my leave. 420
Bass. Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further :
Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute,
Not as a fee : grant me two things, I pray you,
Not to deny me, and to pardon me.
Act IV. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT
Por. You press me far, and therefore I will yield.
Give me your gloves, I '11 wear them for your sake ;
[To Ant.
And, for your love, I'll take this ring from you :
[To Bass.
Do not draw back your hand ; I '11 take no more ;
And you in love shall not deny me this.
Bass. This ring, good sir, alas, it is a trifle ! 430
I will not shame myself to give you this.
Por. I will have nothing else but only this ;
And now methinks I have a mind to it.
Bass. There 's more depends on this than on the value.
The dearest ring in Venice will I give you,
And find it out by proclamation :
Only for this, I pray you, pardon me.
Por. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers :
You taught me first to beg ; and now methinks
You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd. 440
Bass. Good sir, the ring was given me by my wife j
And when she put it on, she made me vow
That I should neither sell nor give nor lose it.
Por. That 'scuse serves many men to save their gifts.
An if your wife be not a mad-woman,
And know how well I have deserved the ring,
She would not hold out enemy for ever,
For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you !
[Exeunt Portia and Nerissa.
Ant. My Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring :
Let his deservings and my love withal 450
Be valued 'gainst your wife's commandement.
Bass. Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him ;
Give him the ring ; and bring him, if thou canst,
OF VENICE Act IV* Sc* "'
Unto Antonio's house : away ! make haste.
[Exit Gratiano.
Come, you and I will thither presently ;
And in the morning early will we both
Fly toward Belmont : come, Antonio. [Exeunt.
Scene II.
The same. A street.
Enter Portia and Nerissa.
For. Inquire the Jew's house out, give him this deed
And let him sign it : we '11 away to-night
And be a day before our husbands home :
This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo.
Enter Gratiano.
Gra. Fair sir, you are well o'erta'en :
My Lord Bassanio upon more advice
Hath sent you here this ring, and doth entreat
Your company at dinner.
Por. That cannot be :
His ring I do accept most thankfully :
And so, I pray you, tell him : furthermore, io
I pray you, show my youth old Shylock's house.
Gra. That will I do.
Ner. Sir, I would speak with you.
I '11 see if I can get my husband's ring,
[Aside to Portia.
Which I did make him swear to keep for ever.
Por. [Aside to Ner.] Thou mayst, I warrant. We shall
have old swearing
That they did give the rings away to men ;
3 F
Act V. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT
But we'll outface them, and outswear them too.
[Aloud] Away ! make haste : thou know'st where I
will tarry.
Ner. Come, good sir, will you show me to this house ?
[Exeunt.
ACT FIFTH.
Scene I.
Belmont. Avenue to Portia s house.*
Enter Lorenzo and Jessica.
Lor. The moon shines bright : in such a night as this,
When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees
And they did make no noise, in such a night
Troilus methinks mounted the Troyan walls,
And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents,
Where Cressid lay that night.
Jes. In such a night
Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew,
And saw the lion's shadow ere himself,
And ran dismay'd away.
Lor. In such a night
Stood Dido with a willow in her hand io
Upon the wild sea banks, and waft her love
To come again to Carthage.
Jes. In such a night
Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs
That did renew old iEson.
Lor. In such a night
Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew,
OF VENICE A<* V. Sc. i.
And with an unthrift love did run from Venice
As far as Belmont.
Jes. In such a night
Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well,
Stealing her soul with many vows of faith
And ne'er a true one.
Lor. In such a night 20
Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew,
Slander her love, and he forgave it her.
Jes. I would out-night you, did no body come ;
But, hark, I hear the footing of a man.
Enter Stephano.
Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the night ?
Steph. A friend.
Lor. A friend ! what friend ? your name, I pray you,
friend ?
Steph. Stephano is my name ; and I bring word
My mistress will before the break of day
Be here at Belmont : she doth stray about 30
By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays
For happy wedlock hours.
Lor. Who comes with her ?
Steph. None but a holy hermit and her maid.
I pray you, is my master yet return'd ?
Lor. He is not, nor we have not heard from him.
But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica,
And ceremoniously let us prepare
Some welcome for the mistress of the house.
Enter Launcelot.
Laun. Sola, sola ! wo ha, ho ! sola, sola !
Act V. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT
Lor. Who calls ? 40
Latin. Sola ! did you see Master Lorenzo ? Master
Lorenzo, sola, sola !
Lor. Leave hollaing, man : here.
Laun. Sola ! where ? where ?
Lor. Here.
Laun. Tell him there 's a post come from my master,
with his horn full of good news : my master will
be here ere morning. [Exit.
Lor. Sweet soul, let 's in, and there expect their coming.
And yet no matter : why should we go in ? 50
My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you,
Within the house, your mistress is at hand ;
And bring your music forth into the air.
[Exit Stephano.
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank !
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears : soft stillness and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony.
Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold :
There 's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st 60
But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins ;
Such harmony is in immortal souls ;
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.
Enter Musicians.
Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn !
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear,
And draw her home with music. [Music.
OF VENICE Act V. Sc. i.
Jes. I am never merry when I hear sweet music.
Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive : 70
For do but note a wild and wanton herd,
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud,
Which is the hot condition of their blood ;
If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound,
Or any air of music touch their ears,
You shall perceive them make a mutual stand,
Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze
By the sweet power of music : therefore the poet
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and floods ;
Since nought so stockish, hard and full of rage, 81
But music for the time doth change his nature.
The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils ;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus :
Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music.
Enter Portia and Nerissa.
Por. That light we see is burning in my hall.
How far that little candle throws his beams ! 00
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
Ner. When the moon shone, we did not see the candle.
Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less :
A substitute shines brightly as a king,
Until a king be by ; and then his state
Empties itself, as doth an inland brook
Into the main of waters. Music ! hark !
Ner. It is your music, madam, of the house.
Act V. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT
Por. Nothing is good, I see, without respect :
Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day. ioo
Net: Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam.
Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark,
When neither is attended ; and I think
The nightingale, if she should sing by day,
When every goose is cackling, would be thought
No better a musician than the wren.
How many things by season season'd are
To their right praise and true perfection !
Peace, ho ! the moon sleeps with Endymion,
And would not be awaked. \_Atusic ceases.
Lor. That is the voice, no
Or I am much deceived, of Portia.
Por. He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo,
By the bad voice.
Lor. Dear lady, welcome home.
Por. We have been praying for our husbands' healths,
Which speed, we hope, the better for our words.
Are they return'd ?
Lor. Madam, they are not yet ;
But there is come a messenger before,
To signify their coming.
Por. Go in, Nerissa ;
Give order to my servants that they take
No note at all of our being absent hence ; 120
Nor you, Lorenzo ; Jessica, nor you. \_A tucket sounds.
Lor. Your husband is at hand ; I hear his trumpet :
We are no tell-tales, madam ; fear you not.
Por. This night methinks is but the daylight sick ;
It looks a little paler : 'tis a day,
Such as the day is when the sun is hid.
OF VENICE Act V. Sc. i.
Enter Bassanio, Antonio, Gratiano, and their followers.
Bass. We should hold day with the Antipodes,
If you would walk in absence of the sun.
Por. Let me give light, but let me not be light ;
For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, 130
And never be Bassanio so for me :
But God sort all ! You are welcome home, my lord.
Bass. I thank you, madam. Give welcome to my friend.
This is the man, this is Antonio,
To whom I am so infinitely bound.
Por. You should in all sense be much bound to him,
For, as I hear, he was much bound for you.
Ant. No more than I am well acquitted of.
Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house :
It must appear in other ways than words, 140
Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy.
Gra. [To Nerissa] By yonder moon I swear you do me
wrong ;
In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk :
Would he were gelt that had it, for my part,
Since you do take it, love, so much at heart.
Lor. A quarrel, ho, already ! what 's the matter ?
Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring
That she did give me, whose posy was
For all the world like cutler's poetry
Upon a knife, ' Love me, and leave me not.' 150
Ner. What talk you of the posy or the value ?
You swore to me, when I did give it you,
That you would wear it till your hour of death,
And that it should lie with you in your grave :
Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths,
Act V. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT
You should have been respective, and have kept it.
Gave it a judge's clerk! no, God's my judge,
The clerk will ne'er wear hair on 's face that had it.
Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man.
Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. 160
Gra. Now, by this hand I gave it to a youth,
A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy,
No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk,
A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee :
I could not for my heart deny it him.
Por. You were to blame, I must be plain with you,
To part so slightly with your wife's first gift ;
A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger
And so riveted with faith unto your flesh.
I gave my love a ring and made him swear 170
Never to part with it ; and here he stands ;
I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it.
Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth
That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano,
You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief:
An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it.
Bass. [Aside] Why, I were best to cut my left hand off,
And swear I lost the ring defending it.
Gra. My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away
Unto the judge that begg'd it, and indeed 180
Deserved it too ; and then the boy, his clerk,
That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine ;
And neither man nor master would take aught
But the two rings.
Por. What ring gave you, my lord ?
Not that, I hope, which you received of me.
Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault,
OF VENICE Act V. Sc. i.
I would deny it ; but you see my finger
Hath not the ring upon it, it is gone.
Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth.
By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed 190
Until I see the ring.
Ner. Nor I in yours
Till I again see mine.
Bass. Sweet Portia,
If you did know to whom I gave the ring,
If you did know for whom I gave the ring,
And would conceive for what I gave the ring,
And how unwillingly I left the ring,
When nought would be accepted but the ring,
You would abate the strength of your displeasure.
Por. If you had known the virtue of the ring,
Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, 200
Or your own honour to contain the ring,
You would not then have parted with the ring.
What man is there so much unreasonable,
If you had pleased to have defended it
With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty
To urge the thing held as a ceremony ?
Nerissa teaches me what to believe :
I '11 die for 't but some woman had the ring.
Bass. No, by my honour, madam, by my soul,
No woman had it, but a civil doctor, 210
Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me,
And begg'd the ring ; the which I did deny him,
And suffer'd him to go displeased away ;
Even he that did uphold the very life
Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady ?
I was enforced to send it after him ;
Act V. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT
I was beset with shame and courtesy ;
My honour would not let ingratitude
So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady ;
For, by these blessed candles of the night, 220
Had you been there, I think you would have begg'd
The ring of me to give the worthy doctor.
Por. Let not that doctor e'er come near my house :
Since he hath got the jewel that I loved,
And that which you did swear to keep for me,
I will become as liberal as you ;
I '11 not deny him any thing I have,
No, not my body nor my husband's bed :
Know him I shall, I am well sure of it :
Lie not a night from home ; watch me like Argus :
If you do not, if I be left alone, 231
Now, by mine honour, which is yet mine own,
I '11 have that doctor for my bedfellow.
Ner. And I his clerk ; therefore be well advised
How you do leave me to mine own protection.
Gra. Well, do you so, let not me take him, then ;
For if I do, I '11 mar the young clerk's pen.
Ant. I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels.
Por. Sir, grieve not you ; you are welcome notwithstanding.
Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong ; 240
And, in the hearing of these many friends,
I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes,
Wherein I see myself, —
Por. Mark you but that !
In both my eyes he doubly sees himself;
In each eye, one : swear by your double self,
And there 's an oath of credit.
Bass. Nay, but hear me :
OF VENICE Act V. Sc. i.
Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear
I never more will break an oath with thee.
Ant. I once did lend my body for his wealth ;
Which, but for him that had your husband's ring, 250
Had quite miscarried : I dare be bound again,
My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord
Will never more break faith advisedly.
Por. Then you shall be his surety. Give him this,
And bid him keep it better than the other.
Ant. Here, Lord Bassanio •, swear to keep this ring.
Bass. By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor !
Por. I had it of him : pardon me, Bassanio j
For, by this ring, the doctor lay with me.
Ner. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano ; 260
For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk,
In lieu of this last night did lie with me.
Gra. Why, this is like the mending of highways
In summer, where the ways are fair enough :
What, are we cuckolds ere we have deserved it ?
Por. Speak not so grossly. You are all amazed :
Here is a letter ; read it at your leisure ;
It comes from Padua, from Bellario :
There you shall find that Portia was the doctor,
Nerissa there her clerk : Lorenzo here 270
Shall witness I set forth as soon as you,
And even but now return'd ; I have not yet
Enter'd my house. Antonio, you are welcome ;
And I have better news in store for you
Than you expect : unseal this letter soon ;
There you shall find three of your argosies
Are richly come to harbour suddenly :
You shall not know by what strange accident
Act v. Sc. L THE MERCHANT
I chanced on this letter.
Ant. I am dumb.
Bass. Were you the doctor and I knew you not ? 280
Gra. Were you the clerk that is to make me cuckold ?
Ner. Ay, but the clerk that never means to do it,
Unless he live until he be a man.
Bass. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow :
When I am absent, then lie with my wife.
Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life and living ;
For here I read for certain that my ships
Are safely come to road.
Por. How now, Lorenzo !
My clerk hath some good comforts too for you.
Ner. Ay, and I '11 give them him without a fee. 290
There do I give to you and Jessica,
From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift,
After his death, of all he dies possess'd of.
Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way
Of starved people.
Por. It is almost morning,
And yet I am sure you are not satisfied
Of these events at full. Let us go in ;
And charge us there upon inter'gatories.
And we will answer all things faithfully.
Gra. Let it be so : the first inter'gatory 300
That my Nerissa shall be sworn on is,
Whether till the next night she had rather stay,
Or go to bed now, being two hours to day :
But were the day come, I should wish it dark,
That I were couching with the doctor's clerk.
Well, while I live I'll fear no other thing
So sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring. [Exeunt.
OF VENICE
Glossary.
Abode, delay ; II. vi. 21.
Abridged; " to be a.," i.e. " at being
a."; I. i. 127.
Address' d me, prepared myself; II.
ix. 19.
Advice, reflection ; IV. ii. 6.
Advised, cautious, heedful ; I. i. 143.
Advisedly, intentionally; V. i. 253.
Affection, feeling ; II. viii. 48.
Approve, prove, confirm; III. ii. 79.
Argosies, merchant-ships (originally
the large and richly freighted
ships of Ragusa) ; I. i. 9.
Attempt, tempt ; IV. i. 421.
Attended, attended to, marked ; V.
i. 103.
Baned, poisoned ; IV. i. 46.
Bare, bare-headed ; II. ix. 44.
Bated, reduced ; III. iii. 32.
Beholding, beholden ; I. iii. 105.
Best-regarded, best - looking, hand-
somest ; II. i. 10.
Blent, blended; III. ii. 182.
Blest, used with a superlative force,
and perhaps a contracted form of
" blessed'st " ; II. i. 46.
Bonnet, head-gear; I. ii. 80.
Bottom, hold of a vessel ; I. i. 42.
Break up, break open ; II. iv. 10.
Breathing, verbal; V. i. 141.
Burial, burial-place ; I. i. 29.
By, at hand, near by ; IV. i. 257.
Cater-cousins , remote relations, good
friends; "are scarce c," i.e.
"are not great friends"; II. ii.
134-
Cerecloth, (Quarto 1, sere-cloth; Folios
1, 2, seare-cloath), a cloth dipped
in melted wax to be used as a
shroud ; II. vii. 51.
Ceremony, sacred object; V. i. 206.
Charge; " on your charge," at your
expense ; IV. i. 257.
Cheer, countenance; III. ii. 313.
Childhood ; " c. proof" (used adject-
ively); I. i. 145.
Choose, " let it alone ! " I. ii. 50.
Circumstance, circumlocution ; I. i.
!55-
Civil doctor, doctor of civil law ; V.
i. 210.
Civility, civilisation ; II. ii. 200.
Close, secret ; II. vi. 47.
Commends, commendations; II. ix.
90.
Complexion, nature ; III. i. 32.
Compromised (Folio I, compremyz'd ;
Quartos 1, 2, compremyzd; Folios
2, 3, comprimyz'd), come to a
mutual agreement ; I. iii. 78.
Confound, destroy ; III. ii. 277.
Confusions ; Launcelot's blunder for
"conclusions"; II. ii. 38.
Constant, self- possessed ; III. ii.
248.
Contain, retain ; V. i. 201.
Continent, that which contains any-
thing; III. ii. 130.
Contrary, wrong ; I. ii. 101.
Contrive, conspire; IV. i. 352.
Cope, requite; IV. i. 412.
Counterfeit, likeness; III. ii. 115.
County, count; I. ii. 48.
Cousin, kinsman ; III. iv. 50.
Cover, wear hats ; II. ix. 44
Cureless (the reading of the Quartos ;
the Folios read "endless"), be-
yond cure ; IV. i. 142.
Danger, absolute power (to harm) ;
IV. i. 180.
Death = death's head ; II. vii. 63.
Glossary
THE MERCHANT
Death's head with a tone in his mouth ;
I. ii. 55; cp. the following seal to a
deed of conveyance dated 1613: —
Deface, cancel, destroy ; III. ii. 300.
Difference, dispute; IV. i. 171.
Disabled, crippled; I. i. 124.
Disabling, undervaluing; II. vii. 30.
Discover, reveal; II. vii. 1.
Doit, a small coin ; I. iii. 140.
Drive, commute ; IV. i. 372.
Ducats ; the value of the Venetian sil-
ver ducat(see cut) was about that
of the American dollar ; I. iii. 1.
From an engraving by F. W. Fairholt.
Eanlings, lambs just born ; I. iii. 79.
Entertain, maintain ; I. i. 90.
Equal, equivalent; I. iii. 149.
Estate, state; III. ii. 237.
Excess, interest; I. iii. 62.
Excrement, hair ; " valour's ex.," i.e.
" a brave man's beard "; III. ii. 87.
Eye; " within the eye of honour";
i.e. "within the sight of h.";
"within the scope of honour's
vision " ; I. i. 138.
Fairness, beauty ; III. ii. 94.
Faithless, unbelieving ; II. iv. 37.
Fall, let fall ; I. iii. 88.
Falls, falls out ; III. ii. 203.
Fancy, love; III. ii. 63, 68.
Fear'd, frightened ; II. i. 9.
Fearful, filling one with fear; I. iii. 175.
Fife ; " wry-necked f. ," a small flute,
called jlute a bee, the upper part or
mouthpiece resembling the beak
of a bird, hence the epithet
" wry - necked " ; according to
others "fife" here means the
musician, cp. " A fife is a wry-
neckt musician, for he always
looks away from his instrument "
(Barnaby Riche's Aphorisms ,1616);
II. v. 30.
From a sculpture upon a XUIth Cent.
building at Rheims.
Fill-horse (Quarto 2 and Folios ' pil-
horse ' ; Theobald, ' thill-horse'),
shaft-horse ; II. ii. 96.
Find forth, find out, seek ; I. i. 144.
Flood, waters, seas ; I. i. 10 ; IV. i. 72.
Fond, foolish ; II. ix. 27.
Foot, spurn with the foot ; I. iii. 118.
Foot, path ; II. iv. 35.
Footing, footfall ; V. i. 24.
For, of; III. iv. 10.
Fraught, freighted ; II. viii.
Fretten, fretted ; IV. i. 77.
Fulsome, rank ; I. iii. 86.
3°-
Gaberdine, a large loose cloak of
coarse stuff; I. iii. 113.
OF VENICE
Glossary
Gaged, pledged ; I. i. 1 31.
Gaping pig, a roast pig with a lemon
in its mouth ; IV. i. 47.
Garnish, apparel ; II. vi. 45.
Gear; "for this g." i.e. for this
matter, business; "a colloquial
expression perhaps of no very
determinate import"; I. i. no;
II. ii. 171.
Gelt, mutilated ; V. i. 144.
Gratify, reward ; IV. i. 406.
Gross; "to term in gross," to sum
up ; III. ii. 159.
Guard, guardianship ; I. iii. 175.
Guarded, ornamented; II. ii. 159.
Guiled, full of guile, treacherous ;
III. ii. 97.
Habit, behaviour; II. ii. 195.
Heavens; "for the heavens," for
heaven's sake ; II. ii. 12.
Heaviness, sadness ; " his embraced
h." ; the sadness which he hugs ;
II. viii. 52.
High-day, holiday, high-flown, ex-
travagant ; II. ix. 98.
Hip; "catch upon the h."; a term
taken from wrestling, meaning
"to have an advantage over";
I. iii. 46.
Hood, "Hood-mine eyes thus with
my hat"; II. ii. 198.
Hovel-post, the support of the roof
of an out-house ; II. ii. 69.
Husbandry, government, steward-
ship ; III. iv. 25.
Imagined, all imaginable; III. iv. 52.
Imposition, an imposed task ; III. iv.
33; a binding arrangement; I.
ii. in.
Incarnal; Launcelot's blunder for
" incarnate" ; II. ii. 29.
Inexecrable, beyond execration (per-
haps a misprint for " inexorable,"
the reading of the third and fourth
Folios); IV. i. 128.
Insculp'd, carved in relief; II. vii. 57.
Jacks, used as a term of contempt ;
III. iv. 77.
Jump -with, agree with ; II. ix. 32.
Kept, lived; III. iii. 19.
Knapped, broke into small pieces (or
" nibbled ") ; III. i. 10 (see Notes).
Level, aim ; I. ii. 41.
Liberal, free; II. ii. 190.
Lichas, the servant of Deianira, who
brought Hercules the poisoned
robe (cp. Ovid, Met. ix. 155); II.
i. 32.
Livings, estates ; III. ii. 157.
Loiv, humble ; I. iii. 43.
Manage, management; III. iv. 25.
Melancholy bait, bait of melancholy ;
I. i. 101.
Mere, certain, unqualified ; III. ii.
263.
Mind; "have in mind," bear in
mind ; I. i. 71.
Mind of love, loving mind ; II. viii. 42.
Aloe, more ; I. i. 108.
Mutual, general, common ; V. i. 77.
Narroiu seas, English Channel ; III.
i. 4.
From the MS. {.temp. Elizabeth) Sloane haughty, wicked ; III. ii. 18.
3794. I Nazarite, Nazarene ; I. iii. 34.
Glossary
THE MERCHANT
Neat, OX ; I. i. 112.
Nestor, the oldest of heroes, taken
as the type of gravity ; I. i. 56.
Nominated, stated ; I. iii. 149.
Noiv . . . noiv, one moment . . .
at the next ; I. i. 35-6.
Obliged, pledged ; II. vi. 7.
Occasion; " quarrelling with o.," i.e.
"at odds with the matter in
question, turning it into ridicule
without reason " ; III. v. 60.
O'er-looi'd, bewitched; III. ii. 15.
Of, on ; II. ii. 99 ; with, II. iv. 23.
Offend'st, vexest; IV. 1. 140.
Old (used intensitively), abundant,
great ; IV. ii. 15.
Opinion of, reputation for; I. i. 91.
Ostent, demeanour; II. ii. 201.
Other, others ; I. i. 54.
Out-divells, out-stays; II. vi. 3.
Out of doubt, without doubt ; I. i. 21;
I. i. 156.
Over-name, run their names over; I.
ii. 39.
Over-iveal/ier'd, weather-beaten ; II.
vi. 18.
Pageants, shows ; I. i. II.
Pain, pains ; II. ii. 190.
Parts, duties, functions ; IV. i. 92.
Passion, outcry; II. viii. 12.
Patch, fool, simpleton, jester ; II. v.
46.
Patines ; the "patine"is the plate
used in the Eucharist; "patines
of bright gold" seems to mean
"the orbs of heaven,"/.^, either
(1) the planets, or (2) the stars :
possibly, however, the reference
is to " the broken clouds, like
flaky disks of curdled gold which
slowly drift across the heavens" ;
V. i. 59.
Peize, to weigh, keep in suspense,
delay ; III. ii. 22.
Pent-house, a porch with a sloping
roof; II. vi. 1.
Pied, spotted ; I. iii. 79.
Port, importance; III. ii. 282.
Possessed, acquainted, informed; I.
iii. 64.
Post, "with his horn full of good
news," postman ; V. i. 47.
From a tract entitled A speedy Post, with
a Packet 0/ Letters and Compli-
ments, n.d.
Posy, a motto inscribed on the inner
side of a ring ; V. i. 148.
From a specimen found at Arreton,
Isle of Wight.
Power, authority ; IV. i. 104.
Preferrd, recommended ; II. ii. 150.
Presently, immediately; I. i. 184.
Prest, prepared; I. i. 161.
Prevented, anticipated ; I. i. 61.
Proper, handsome; I. ii. 76.
Publican, an allusion perhaps to the
parable of the Pharisee and the
publican (St Luke xviii. 10-14);
I. iii. 41.
Quaintly, gracefully ; II. iv. 6.
Question, are disputing, arguing ;
IV. i. 70.
Quit, remit ; IV. i 381.
liaised, roused ; II. viii. 4.
OF VENICE
Glossary
Reason'd, had a conversation ; II.
viii. 27.
Regreets, greetings ; II. ix. 89.
Remorse, compassion ; IV. i. 20.
Repent, regret ; IV. i. 278, 279.
Reproach, Launcelot's blunder for
"approach"; II. v. 20.
Respect, proper attention (or perhaps
" respect to circumstances ") ; V.
i. 99.
Respect upon; " you have too much
r. u.," i.e. "you look too much
upon " ; I. i. 74.
Respective, mindful ; V. i. 156.
Rest; "set up my rest," made up
my mind (a phrase probably de-
rived from the game of Primero ;
resto meant to bet or wager,
which appears to have been made
by the players only); II. ii. 105.
Rialto; "The Rialto, which is at
the farthest side of the bridge as
you come from St Mark's, is a
most stately building, being the
Exchange of Venice, where the
Venetian gentlemen and mer-
chants do meet twice a day. . . .
This Rialto is of a goodly height,
built all with brick as the palaces
are, adorned with many fair
walks or open galleries, and hath
a pretty quadrangular court ad-
joining to it. But it is inferior
to our Exchange in London." —
Coryat's Crudities (16 I 1).
Rib, enclose; II. vii. 51.
Ripe, urgent; I. iii. 63.
Riping, ripening ; II. viii. 40.
Road, port, harbour; V. i. 288.
Sad, grave ; II. ii. 201.
Sand-blind, half-blind ; II. ii. 37.
Scant, moderate; III. ii. 112.
Scanted, restrained, limited ; II. i.
Scarfed, decorated, beflagged ; II.
vi. 15.
Scrubbed, small, ill-favoured, scrubby;
V. i. 162.
3 G
Self, self-same ; I. i. 149.
Sense; "in all sense," with good
reason ; V. i. 136.
Sensible, evident to the senses, sub-
stantial, II. ix. 89 ; sensitive, II.
viii. 48.
Should, would ; I. ii. 98, 99.
Shoivs, outward appearance ; II. vii.
20.
Shreivd, bad, evil ; III. ii. 244.
Shrive me, be my father-confessor ;
I. ii. 140.
Sibylla, a reference probably to the
Cumasan Sibyl, who obtained
from Apollo a promise that her
years should be as many as the
grains of sand she was holding
in her hand {cp. Ovid, Met. xv.).
Single; "your single bond," pro-
bably "a bond with your own
signature, without the names of
sureties " ; I. iii. 145.
Slubber, " to slur over " ; II. viii. 39.
Smug, neat ; III. i. 47.
So, provided that; III. ii. 196.
Sola, sola; " Launcelot is imitating
the horn of the courier or post " ;
V. 1. 39.
Something, somewhat; I. i. 125.
Sonties ; "by God's s.," i.e. "by
God's dear saints"; sonties =
" saunties," a diminutive form;
II. ii. 46.
Soon at, about ; II. iii. 5.
Sore, sorely ; V. i. 307.
Sort, dispose; V. i. 132.
Sort, lottery; I. ii. no.
Spend, waste ; I. i. 154.
Squandered, scattered; I. iii. 21.
Stead, help ; I. iii. 7.
Still, continually ; I. i. 17 ; I. i. 137.
Straight, straightway ; II. ix. 1.
Strange; " exceeding strange," quite
strangers; I. i. 67.
Strond, strand ; I. i. 172.
Substance, (?) weight ; IV. i. 328.
Suited, apparelled ; I. ii. 78.
Supposed, spurious, false ; III. ii.
94-
Glossary
THE MERCHANT
Supposition, the subject of conjec-
ture; I. iii. 16.
Table (see Notes) ; II. ii. 162.
Think, bethink ; IV. i. 70.
Thrift, success, good fortune ; I i.
176 ; profits ; I. iii. 50.
Time, " springtime of life, youth,
manhood ; I. i. 130.
Torch-bearer; II. iv. 5 (cp. the follow-
ing illustration).
From ' La tryumphante . . . entree faicte
sur le . . . advenement de . . . prince.
Charles des Hespaignes (i.e. Emperor
Charles V.) ... en sa ville de Bruges'
(I5I5)-
Tranect (so the Quartos and Folios),
probably an error for Fr. iraject
(It. traghetto), "a ferrie " (so
glossed by Cotgrave) ; it is,
however, noteworthy that in
Italian tranare means to draw
or drag. " Twenty miles from
Padua, on the River Brenta,
there is a dam or sluice to pre-
vent the water of that river from
mixing with that of the marshes
of Venice. Here the passage-boat
is drawn out of the river, and
lifted over the dam by a crane.
From hence to Venice this
distance is five miles. Perhaps
some novel-writer of Shake-
speare's time might have called
this dam by the name of
< tranect '" (Malone) ; III. iv. 53.
Tricksy, tricky; III. v. 74.
Tripolis, Tripoli, the most eastern
of the Barbary States, the mar-
ket between Europe and Central
Africa ; I. iii. 17.
Trust, credit ; I. i. 186.
Tucket, flourish on a trumpet ; V. i.
121.
Undervalued, inferior; I. i. 166.
Unfurnished, unmatched with the
other, destitute of its fellow ;
III. ii. 126.
Untread, retrace ; II. vi. 10.
Usance, usury, interest ; I. iii. 45.
Use; "in use," i.e. (probably) " in
trust " (i.e. in trust for Shylock
during his life, for the purpose
of securing it at his death to
Lorenzo) ; IV. i. 383.
Failing, bending ; I. i. 28.
Varnisild, painted ; II. v. 33.
Vasty, vast ; II. vii. 41.
Very, true, real ; III. ii. 224.
Virtue, efficacy; V. i. 199
Waft, wafted ; V. i. n.
Wealth, welfare ; V. i. 249.
Weather, storms ; II. ix. 29.
Where, whereas ; IV. i. 22.
While, time ; II. i. 31.
Wilful stillness, dogged silence ;
90.
Younker, young man, youth ; II. vi.
14.
OF VENICE
Notes.
The name ' Shylock ' may have been derived by Shakespeare from a
pamphlet called ' Caleb Shillocte his prophecie, or the Jeives Prediction ' •
the Pepysian ballad on this subject belongs to the year 1607; to the
same year belongs a prose piece printed at the end of a rare tract
called ' A Jeives Prophecie, or Neiues from Rome of tiuo mighty armies, etc'
Its ultimate origin is unknown ; it may have been an Italian name
Scialocca. According to Hunter, Scialac was the name of a Maronite
of Mount Libanus, who was living in 1614. It has recently been
maintained, with some probability, that the name was perhaps suggested
by " She/ah" in the genealogical lists given in Genesis, chapter xi. ; (cp.
Tubal, Jessica, evidently chosen because of their Biblical associations).
I. i. 27. 'dock'd' ; Rowe's emendation for 'docks,' the reading of the
Quartos and Folios.
I. i. 113. 'Is that any thing ne-w f" The old editions read 'Is that any
thing noiu' ; changed to ' ne-w' by Johnson. Rowe first suggested the
interrogation.
I. ii. 82. 'the Scottish lord' ; in the first Folio ' Scottish' is changed to
' other.'
I. ii. 87. ' Alluding to the constant assistance, or rather, constant
promises of assistance, that the French gave the Scots in their quarrels
with the English ' (Warburton).
I. ii. 132. ' The four strangers ' • allusion has been made to six strangers.
An interesting oversight on the poet's part.
I. iii. 64. ' Is he yet possess'd Hoiv much ye -would,' so read the second
and third Quartos; the Folios read 'he -would'; the first Quarto ' are
you resolv'd hoiv much he -would ha-ve' ; this is one of the important points
in which the second Quarto is superior to the first.
I. iii. 71. Cp. Genesis xxx.
I. iii. 74. ' the third,' i.e. ' reckoning Abraham himself as the first.'
I. iii. 1 34. 'A breed for barren metal,' the reading of the Quartos •
Folios, 'a breed of; 'for' must be equivalent to 'in exchange for'-
' breed' = ' interest money bred from the principal' (cp. Gr. t6kos).
II. i. The old stage direction ran as follows : — ' Enter Morochus a taivnie
Moore all in -white, and three or foure follotvers accordingly, -with Portia, Nerissa
and their traine. '
Notes
THE MERCHANT
II. i. 25. ' the Sophy,'' cp. " Soft, and Sojlto, an ancient word signifying a
wise man, learned and skillful in Magike Naturale. It is grown to be the
common name of the Emperour of Persia " (Abraham Hartwell's transla-
tion of Minadoi's History of the Wars between the Turks and the Persians).
The ' Sefi of Persia ' is mentioned in the German play Der Jude von
Vcnedig.
II. i. 35. 'page' ; Theobald's emendation for ' rage,' the reading of all
the old editions.
II. ii. 1. ' -will serve me' ; Halliwell, ' the particle not . . . seems essen-
tial to the sense of what follows.'
II. ii. 93. Gobbo's ' you,' as a mark of respect, changes to ' thou,' after
the recognition.
II. ii. 162-4. According to Staunton, the table line, or line of fortune, is
the line running from the forefinger, below the other three fingers, to the
n
r
f\
'
J3
-
5
i\\
*=§
-^5
^i-^i ]
1
5
^tc<;4:T>"=j
"A^
r^%^>~
/ -'^L'x x^ - ■?
1 Hs^y
\ljf
/^T~Tm
Table.
From a XVth Cent. MS. in the
possession of the late J. O.
Halliwell-Phillipps.
Line of Life.
From Dr Trotter's Fortune Book,
1708.
side of the hand. The natural line is the line which curves in a different
direction, through the middle of the palm ; and the line of life is the cir-
cular line surrounding the ball of the thumb. The space between the
two former lines is technically known as the table. " Long and deep
lines from the Mount of Venus (the ball of the thumb) towards the line
of life, signifieth so many wives. . . . These lines visible and deep, so
many wives the party shall have " (Saunder's Chiromancie, quoted by Halli-
well).
OF VENICE Notes
II. iii. 12. 'did'; the Quartos and first Folio read 'doe'; the reading
' did' was first given in the second Folio; if this is adopted, lget' =
' beget.'
II. v. 25. ' Black- Monday,' i.e. Easter Monday, so called, because of a
storm which occurred on April 14, 1360, being Easter Monday, when
Edward III. was lying with his army before Paris, and when many of his
men-at-arms died of cold QStoive).
II. v. 36. 'Jacob's staff'; cp. Gen. xxxii. 10, and Heb. xi. 21. 'A
Jacob's staff' was generally used in the sense of 'a pilgrim's stafF,' because
St James (or Jacob) was the patron saint of pilgrims.
II. v. 43. " A Jeivess' eye' ; the Quartos and Folios read 'a Jetves eye,
probably pronounced 'Jetves'; 'worth a Jew's eye' was a proverbial
phrase: 'that worth was the price which the Jews paid for immunity
from mutilation and death.' The reading ' Jeivess' ' seems very doubtful.
II. vi. 51. ' by my hood' ; this phrase is found nowhere else in Shake-
speare; according to Malone, Gratiano is in a masqued habit, to which
it is probable that formerly, as at present, a large cape or hood was
affixed.
II. vii. 41. ' the Hyrcanian deserts'; Shakespeare three times mentions
the tigers of Hyrcania, ' the name given to a district of indefinite extent
south of the Caspian,' where, according to Pliny, tigers were bred.
II. vii. 53. 'under-valued' "in the beginning of Elizabeth's reign, gold
was to silver in the proportion of 11 to 1 ; in the forty-third year of her
reign it was in the proportion of 10 to 1 " (Clarendon).
II. vii. 69. 'tombs do'; Johnson's emendation for the old reading
' timber do.
II. vii. 75. Halliwell notes that this line is a paraphrastical inversion
of the common old proverb : ' Farewell, frost,' which was used in the
absence or departure of anything that was unwelcome or displeasing.
III. i. 10. ' Knapped ginger ' ; perhaps 'to knap ginger' is to 'nibble
ginger'; old women were fond of this condiment: Cotgrave invariably
gives ' knap ' as a synonym of ' gnaiv ' or ' nibble.'
III. i. 71. 'humility,' rightly explained by Schmidt as 'kindness, ben-
evolence, humanity.'
III. i. 122. The special value of the 'turquoise' was its supposed
virtue in indicating the health of the wearer: it was said to brighten or
fade as its wearer was well or ill, and to give warning of approaching
danger.
III. ii. 54. ' more love' ; because Hercules rescued Hesione not for love
of the lady, but for the sake of the horses promised him by Laomedon.
III. ii. 99. 'veiling an Indian beauty'; it has been pointed out that
Notes THE MERCHANT
Montaigne in his Essay on ' Beauty ' says : " The Indians describe it
black and swarthy, with blabbered thick lips, with a broad and flat
nose." If Shakespeare gives us a reminiscence of this, he must have read
Montaigne in French, as Florio's translation was not published until 1603.
III. ii. 102. ' Hard food for Midas,' who prayed that everything he
touched might turn to gold, and soon regretted his prayer.
III. ii. 106. ' paleness'1 • as Bassanio uses 'pale' of silver a few lines
before, Theobald, on Warburton's suggestion, proposed to read 'plain-
ness'• but 'pale' is a regular epithet of lead, and there seems no reason
for changing the reading here.
III. ii. 112. ' rain,' so Folios 1, 2 and Quarto 2; the reading of the third
and fourth Quartos ' rein ' is generally preferred ; Quarto 1 ' range.'
III. iv. 63. 'accoutred,' so Folios and later Quartos; Quarto 1 ' apparreld,'
in some respects the preferable reading.
III. V. 82. ' And if on earth he do not mean it, then In reason' ; the Second
Quarto ' it, it' ; the Folios ' it, it is.'
Various emendations have been suggested for ' mean,' but no change is
necessary, though no satisfactory explanation has hitherto been advanced.
I am inclined to think that, with Prof. Skeat's kind assistance, the
difficulty may be now removed: 'mean it' = mean, like 'foot it,' 'trip it';
and wcM = moan (cp. Midsummer Night's Dream, v. i. 330). The sense of the
line is clearly, if he don't cry now, he can't expect to sing hereafter.
IV. i. 36. ' Our holy Sabbath'; so the first Quarto; the second reads
' Sabaoth' ; it is just possible that Shakespeare might have been misled
by the expression, 'Lord God of Sabaoth,' which occurs in the New
Testament. 'Sabbath' and ' Sabaoth ' (J.e. ' hosts,' in the phrase 'Lord
of hosts ') were confused even by Sir Walter Scott, when in Ivanhoe,
ch. x. he refers to " the gains of a week, aye the space between two
Sabaoths." Similarly Spenser (F. Q. viii. 2): —
' But thenceforth all shall rest eternally
With him that is the God of Sabaoth hight.'
Dr Johnson treated the two words as identical in the first edition of his
Dictionary.
IV. i. 49. 'the bag-pipe sings /' the nose. See Illustrations to /. 56.
IV. i. 50. 'affection, Mistress of passion' ; the Quartos and Folios read
' affection. Masters of passion.' The reading now generally adopted was
first suggested by Thirlby ; ' Maistres' or ' mastres,' the old spelling of
'mistress' evidently produced the error. 'Affection,' when contrasted
with 'passion,' seems to denote 'emotions produced through the senses
by external objects.'
OF VENICE
Notes
IV. i. 56. sa -woollen bag-pipe'; the reading of all the old editions;
' wawling,' ' swollen,' ' bollen,' have been variously suggested ; ' •woollen''
probably refers to the covering of the wind-bag.
A bag-piper of XlVth Cent.
From an illumination in the Luterell
Psalter.
A bag-piper of XVIIth Cent.
From a black-letter ballad.
IV. i. 184. Cp. ' Mercy is seasonable in the time of affliction, as clouds
of rain in the time of drought,' Ecclesiasticus, xxxv. 20.
IV. i. 255. ' Are there balance'; 'balance' was frequently treated as a
plural by Elizabethan writers, though this is the only instance in
Shakespeare.
IV. i. 451. ' Commandement ' so Quartos and Folios: clearly to be pro-
nounced as quadrisyllable, Cambridge edition '■commandment.'
V. i. 4. ' Troilus ' ; the image is from Chaucer's Troilus and Cresseide ;
" Upon the wallis fast eke would he walke" (Bk. v. 666).
V. i. 7-14. Thisbe, etc.; Hunter (Nezu Illustrations, i. 309) ingeniously
suggests that the old Folio of Chaucer was lying open before Shake-
speare when he wrote this dialogue, and that there he found Thisbe,
Dido, and Medea, as well as Troilus. It is certainly striking that
Thisbe, Dido, and Medea follow each other in the ' Legend of Good
Women.' Shakespeare has seemingly transferred to Dido what he
found in Chaucer's Legend concerning Ariadne (' And to the stronde
barefote faste she ivent ' — ' And turne agayne, and on the stronde hire fynde ').
Chaucer's Medea directed Shakespeare's mind to Ovid, Metam. VII.
Notes
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE
V. i. 15. ' Jessica' ; Medea, who stole away from her father, iEetes,
with the golden fleece, suggests Jessica's own story to Lorenzo.
V. i. 61, &c. "The corresponding passage in Plato is in his tenth
book De RepuMica, where he speaks of the harmony of the Spheres,
and represents a syren sitting on each of the eight orbs, and singing
to each in its proper tone, while they are thus guided through the
heavens, and consent in a diapason of perfect harmony, the Fates
themselves chanting to this celestial music " (Du Bois, The Wreath, p.
60, quoted by Furness). The Platonic doctrine is, however, blended
with reminiscences of Job xxxviii. 7, " The morning stars sang
together."
V. i. 64. ' dose it in ' ; Quarto 1 and Folios read ' in it? which some
editors have taken as equivalent to ' close-in it.'
V. i. 149. ' Like cut' er's poetry upon a knife.' Cp. accompanying illus-
tration.
*t^MVI
nc> TM.ee Tie}r Izair xuron^ohfg 1
J1*] iti all borrowers ^ooe &, huve
-S/P
From an inscribed knife of the XVIIth Cent. Discovered at Norwich.
V i. 193. A similar repetition of the word 'love' at the end of ten
consecutive lines is found in 'The Fayre May <de of the Exchange' (1607);
cp. Edivard III. Act II. sc. i., where ' the sun ' ends eight consecutive
lines.
' Two-headed J anus.'
From an antique engraved in Montfaucon.
(I. i. 50).
AS YOU LIKE IT
Preface.
The Editions. As You Like It was published for the first time in
the First Folio ; a Quarto edition was contemplated many years pre-
viously, but for some cause or other was ' staied,' and the play is men-
tioned among others in 1623, when Jaggard and Blount obtained per-
mission to print the First Folio, as 'not formerly entered to other men.'
The text of the play in the four Folios is substantially the same, though
the Second Folio corrects a few typographical and other errors in the first
edition.
As You Like It was in all probability produced under circumstances
necessitating great haste on the part of the author, and many evidences
of this rapidity of composition exist in the text of the play, e.g. (i.) in
Act I. scene ii. line 284, Le Beau makes Celia ' the taller] which state-
ment seems to contradict Rosalind's description of herself in the next
scene (I. iii. 117)) ' because that I am more than common tall' : (ii.) again, in
the first Act the second son of Sir Rowland de Boys is referred to as
'Jaques,'a name subsequently transferred to another and more important
character; wherefore when he appears in the last Act he is styled in the
Folio merely ' second brother' : (iii.) ' old Frederick, your father' (I. ii. 87)
seems to refer to the banished duke ('Duke senior'), for to Rosalind, and
not to Celia, the words ' thy father's love,' Sec, are assigned in the Folio ;
either the ascription is incorrect, or ' Frederick ' is an error for some
other name, perhaps for ' Ferdinand,' as has been suggested ; attention
should also be called to certain slight inaccuracies, e.g. ' Juno's swans ' {vide
Glossary) ; finally, the part of Hymen in the last scene of the play is on
the whole unsatisfactory, and is possibly by another hand.
Date of Composition. GO As You Like Jt mzY safely be assigned
to the year 1599, Tor while the play is not mentioned in Meres' Palladis
Tamia, 1598, it quotes a line from Marlowe's Hero and Leander, which was
printed for the first time in that year — five years after the poet's death — ■
Preface AS YOU LIKE IT
and at once became popular.* The quotation is introduced by a touch-
ing tribute on Shakespeare's part to the most distinguished of his pre-
decessors : —
" Dead Shepherd, now I find thy saw of might, —
Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight." — (III. v. 82, 83.)
(ii.) In the Stationers' Registers there is a rough memorandum dated
August 4, without any year, seemingly under the head of ' my lord
chamberlens menns plaies,' to the effect that As You Like It, together
with Henry the Fifth, Every Man In His Humour, and Much Ado About
Nothing, are ' to be staied.' This entry may be assigned to the year
1600, for later on, in the same month of that year the three latter
plays were entered again ; moreover the previous entry bears the date
May 27, 1600.
The Sources. The plot of As You Like It was in all probability f
directly derived from a famous novel by Shakespeare's contemporary
Thomas Lodge, entitled, " Rosalynde, Euphues' Golden Legacie ; found after
his death in his cell at Silexedra ; bequeathed to Philautus' sons nursed up -with their
father in England ; fetcht from the Canaries by T. L. Gent." The first edition
* Two editions of Hero and Leander appeared in 1598. The first edition contained
only Marlowe's portion of the poem ; the second gave the whole poem, " Hero and
Leander: Begun by Christopher Marloe and finished by George Chapman. Ul
Nectar, Ingenium." The line quoted by Shakespeare occurs in the first sestiad
(1. 176) :-
' Where both deliberate, the love is slight :
Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight V
There are many quotations from the poem in contemporary literature after 1598 ; they
often help us to fix the date of the composition in which they appear ; e.g. the Pil-
grimage to Parnassus must have been acted at Cambridge not earlier than Christmas
1598, for it contains the line ' Learning and Poverty must always kiss,' also taken
from the first sestiad of the poem. No evidence has as yet been discovered tending to
show that Hero and Leander circulated while still in MS.
It is at times difficult to resist the temptation of comparing the meeting of Marlowe's
lovers and Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. The passage in Marlowe immediately
follows the line quoted in As You Like It ; cp. : —
1 H e kneel d; but unto her devoutly prayed:
Chaste Hero to herself thus softly said,
" Were I the saint lie -worships, I would hear him." . . .
These lovers parted by the touch 0/ hands.'
Cp. Romeo and Juliet's first meeting, where Romeo ('the pilgrim') comes to 'the
holy shrine ' of Juliet : ' palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss,' etc. (Act I. v. 102). If
in this case there is any doubt at all, it must be Marlowe's.
t Some have supposed that there was an older drama intermediate between As
You Like It and Lodge's Rosalynde ; there is absolutely no evidence to support
such a supposition.
AS YOU LIKE IT Preface
of the book appeared in 1590, and many editions were published before
the end of the century (cp. Shakespeare's Library, ed. W. C. Hazlitt, Vol.
II., where the 1592 edition of the novel is reprinted).
Lodge's Rosalynde is in great part founded upon the old ' Tale of
Gamelyn,' formerly erroneously attributed to Chaucer as ' the Cook's
Tale,' but evidently it was the poet's intention to work up the old
ballad into 'the Yeoman's Tale'; none of the black-letter editions of
Chaucer contains the Tale, which was not printed till 1721 ; Lodge
must therefore have read it in manuscript ; * (cp. The Tale of Gamelyn,
ed. by Prof. Skeat, Oxford, 1884). The story of Gamelyn the Outlaw,
the prototype of Orlando, belongs to the Robin Hood cycle of ballads,
and the hero often appears in these under the form of ' Gandeleyn,'
'Gamivell' • Shakespeare himself gives us a hint of this ultimate origin of
his Story : — ' They say he is already in the Forest of Arden, and a many merry men
■with him ; and there they live Hie the old Robin Hood of England' (I. i. 1 20-2). f
The ' Tale of Gamelyn ' tells how ' Sire Johan of Boundys ' leaves his
possessions to three sons Johan, Ote, and Gamelyn ; the eldest neglects
the youngest, who endures his ill-treatment for sixteen years. One day
he shows his prowess and wins prizes at a wrestling match ; he invites
all the spectators home. The brothers quarrel after the guests have
gone, and Johan has Gamelyn chained as a madman. Adam the Spencer,
his father's old retainer, releases him, and they escape together to the
woods ; Gamelyn becomes king of the outlaws. Johan, as sheriff of
the county, gets possession of Gamelyn again ; Ote, the second brother
bails him out ; he returns in time to save his bail ; finally he condemns
Johan to the gallows.
There is no element of love in the ballad ; at the end it is merely
stated that Gamelyn wedded ' a wyf bothe good and feyr.' This perhaps
suggested to Lodge a second plot — viz., the story of the exiled King of
France, Gerismond ; of his daughter Rosalynd's love for the young
wrestler ; of her departure (disguised as a page called ' Ganimede ') with
Alinda (who changes her name to Aliena) from the Court of the usurper
* Harleian MS. 7334 is possibly the first MS. that includes Gamelyn ; it is quite
clear in the MS. that the scribe did not intend it to be taken for the Cook's Tale
(cp. Ward's Catalogue of British Museum Romances, Vol. I. p. 508).
t ' Arden' has taken the place of 'Sherwood' ; but this is due to Lodge, who
localises the story ; the Tale of Gamelyn, however, gives no place at all. The
mere phrase ' a many merry men ' suggests a reminiscence of Robin Hood ballads
on Shakespeare's part. 'Robin Hood plays' were not uncommon at the end of the
sixteenth century, e.g. George-A-Green, Downfall and Death of Robert, Earl of
Huntington, &c. To the abiding charm of Robin Hood and Maid Marian we owe
the latest of pastoral plays, Tennyson's Foresters.
Preface AS YOU LIKE IT
King Torismond ; and of the story of Montanus, the lover of Phoebe.
The old knight is named by Lodge ' Sir John of Bordeaux,' and the sons
are Saladyne, Fernandine, and Rosader. Adam Spencer is retained from
the old Tale.* The scene is Bordeaux and the Forest of Ardennes. A
noteworthy point is the attempt made by a band of robbers to seize
Aliena ; she is rescued by Rosader and Saladine: this gives some motive
for her ready acceptance of the elder brother's suit ; the omission of this
saving incident by Shakespeare produces the only unsatisfactory element
in the whole play. " Nor can it well be worth any man's while," writes
Mr Swinburne, f " to say or to hear for the thousandth time that As You
Like It would be one of those works which prove, as Landor said long
since, the falsehood of the stale axiom that no work of man can be per-
fect, were it not for that one unlucky slip of the brush which has left so
ugly a little smear on one corner of the canvas as the betrothal of Oliver
to Celia ; though with all reverence for a great name and a noble
memory, I can hardly think that matters were much mended in George
Sand's adaptation of the play J by the transference of her hand to Jaques."
Shakespeare has varied the names of the three sons ; of the rightful
and usurping kings (Duke Senior and Frederick); Alinda becomes Celia,
Montanus is changed to Sylvius. In the novel Alinda and Rosalind go on
their travels as lady and page ; in the play as sister and brother. The
characters of Jaques, Touchstone, and Audrey, have no prototypes in the
original story. Various estimates have been formed of Lodge's Rosalynde ;
some critics speak of it as ' one of the dullest and dreariest of all the
obscure literary performances that have come down to us from past ages,'
others regard it with enthusiasm as ' informed with a bright poetical
spirit, and possessing a pastoral charm which may occasionally be com-
pared with the best parts of Sidney's Arcadia.' Certainly in many places
the elaborate euphuistic prose serves as a quaint frame-work for some
dainty ' Sonetto,' ' Eglog,' or < Song ' ; the xvith lyric in the "Golden
Treasury of Songs and Lyrics " may at least vindicate the novel from the
attacks of its too harsh critics.
* This is an old tradition preserved by Oldys and Capell that Shakespeare himself
took the part of Old Adam. The former narrates that a younger brother of the poet
recalled in his old age that he had once seen him act a part in one of his own comedies,
" Wherein being to personate a decrepit old man, he wore a long beard, and appeared
so weak and drooping and unable to walk, that he was forced to be supported and
carried by another to a table, at which he was seated among some company, who were
eating, and one of them sung a song." [N.B. — Shakespeare's brothers predeceased him.]
t A Study of Shakespeare, p. 151.
X Mr Swinburne alludes to George Sand's Comme II Vous Plaira; an analysis of
which is to be found in the Variorum As You Like It, edited by H. H. Furness.
AS YOU LIKE IT Preface
All the world's a Stage, (i.) It is an interesting point that the
original of these words, " Tutus mundus agit kistr'wnem," was inscribed over
the entrance to the Globe Theatre; as the theatre was probably opened
at the end of 1599, the play containing the elaboration of the idea may
have been among the first plays produced there. According to a doubtful
tradition the motto called forth epigrams from Jonson and Shakespeare.
Oldys has preserved for us the following lines : —
Jonson. — " If, but stage actors, all tlie world displays,
Wliere shall we find spectators 0/ their plays ? "
Shakespeare. — "Little, or much, of what we see, we do ;
We're all both actors and spectators too." *
The motto is said to be derived from one of the fragments of Petronius,
where the words are "quod fere totus mundus exerceat histrioniam." \ The
idea, however, was common in Elizabethan literature, e.g. " Pythagoras
said, that this ivorld -was like a stage, ivhereon many play their parts " (from the
old play of Damon and Pythias') ; Shakespeare had himself already used the
idea in The Merchant of Venice (I. i.): — " / hold the -world but as the -world,
Gratiano ; A stage -where every man must play a part."
(ii.) It should be noted that Jaques' moralising is but an enlargement
of the text given out to him by the Duke : —
' Thou seest we are not all alone unliappy :
This wide and universal theatre
Presents more woeful pageants than the scene
Wherein we play in.'
Now ' this wide and universal theatre ' reminds one strongly of a famous
book which Shakespeare may very well have known, viz. Boissard's
Theatrum Vita Humana (published at Metz, 1596), the opening chapter
of which is embellished with a remarkable emblem (here reproduced) re-
presenting a huge pageant of universal misery, headed with the lines : —
' Vita Humana est tanquam
Tlieatrum omnium miseriarum ; '
beneath the picture are words to the same effect : —
' Vita hominis tanquam circus vel grande theatrum! \
(iii.) The division of the life of man into fourteen, ten, or seven periods
is found in Hebrew, Greek, and Roman literature (cp. Archaologia, Vol.
XXXV. 167-189; Low's Die Lebensalter in der J'udischen Literatur ; cp. also Sir
Thomas Browne's Vulgar Errors, iv. 12). In the fifteenth century the
* The authenticity of the epigrams may be put down as very slight. It is noteworthy
that they are preserved " in the same collection of items which Oldys had gathered for
a life of Shakespeare, from which we get the anecdote about Old Adam" — the tradition
that Shakespeare himself acted the part.
t The reading is variously given as histrionem and histrioniam.
\ Cp. Shakespeare and the Emblem Writers, by H. Green. 1870.
Preface
AS YOU LIKE IT
representation of the ' seven ages- was a common theme in literature and
art; e.g. (i. ) in Arnold's Chronicle, a famous book of the period, there is a
chapter entitled ' the vij ages of man living in the world ' ; (ii.) a block-
print in the British Museum gives seven figures ' Jnfans,' ' Pueritia,'
' Adolcscent'taJ ' Juwntus,' ' J^irHitas,' ' Senectus,' ' Durepitas,"1 which practi-
cally, in several cases, illustrate the words of Jaques ; (iii.) the alle-
gorical mosaics on the pavement of the Cathedral at Siena picture forth
the same seven acts of life's drama.
There should be somewhere a Moral Play based on Jaques' theme of
life's progress : it might perhaps be said that the spirit of the dying
Drama of Allegory lived on in the person of ' Monsieur Melancholy ' ;
he may well be likened to the Presenter of some old ' Enterlude of Youth,
AS YOU LIKE IT Preface
Manhood, and Age'; Romantic Comedy was not for him; 'Everyman,'
' Lusty Juventus,' ' Mundus et Infant? and such like endless moralisings on
the World, the Flesh, and the Devil, were more to his taste.
The Scene of Action. The locality of the play is Hhe Forest of
Arden,' i.e. 'Ardennes,' in the north-east of France, ' between the Meuse
and Moselle,' but Shakespeare could hardly help thinking of his own
Warwickshire Arden, and there can be little doubt that his contempor-
aries took it in the same way. There is a beautiful description of this
English Forest in Drayton's Polyolbion (Song xiii.), where the poet
apostrophises Warwickshire as his own • native country -which so brave
spirits hast bred.' The whole passage, as Mr Furness admirably points
out, probably serves to show < the deep impression on him which his
friend Shakespeare's As You Like It had made.' Elsewhere Drayton re-
fers to ' Siveet Arden s Nightingales,' e.g. in his Matilda and in the Idea : —
" Where nightingales in Arden sit and sing
Amongst the dainty dew-impearled flowers."
The Title Of the Play. The title As You Like It was evidently
suggested by a passage in Lodge's < Address to the Gentlemen Readers ' :
'To be brief, gentlemen, room for a soldier and a sailor, that gives
you the fruits of his labours that he wrote in the ocean, where every
line was wet with the surge, and every humorous passion counterchecked
with a storm. If you like it so; and yet I will be yours in duty, if you
be mine in favour.' It was formerly believed (by Tieck and others) that
the title alluded to the concluding lines of Ben Jonson's Cynthia's Revels .- —
" 1 '11 only speak what I have heard him say,
' By — 'tis good, and if you like 't you may.' "
But Shakespeare's play must have preceded Jonson's dramatic satire,
which was first acted in 1600.
Duration of Action. The time of the play, according to Mr
Daniel's Analysis (Trans, of New Shaiespere Soc, 1 877-79), may be taken as
ten days represented on the stage, with necessary intervals : —
Day 1, Act I. i. Day 2, Act I. ii. and iii., and Act II. i. [Act II.
iii.]. Day 3, Act II. ii. [Act III. i.] ; an interval of a few days; the
journey to Arden. Day 4, Act II. iv. Day 5, Act II. v., vi. and vii. ;
an interval of a few days. Day 6, Act III. ii. ; an interval. Day 7, Act
III. iii. Day 8, Act III. iv. and v.; Act IV. i., ii. and iii.; and Act V i.
Day 9, Act V. ii. and iii. Day 10, Act V. iv. The scenes in brackets
are out of their actual order. "The author seems to have gone back
to resume these threads of the story which were dropped while other
parts of the plot were in hand."
DRAMATIS PERSONS.
Duke, living in banisJiment.
Frederick, his brother, and usurper of his dominion!.
' > lords attending on the banished Duke.
JAgUES, J
Le Beau, a courtier attending upon Frederick.
Charles, -wrestler to Frederick.
Oliver, \
Jaque-;, > sons of Sir Rowland de Boys.
Orlando, )
Adam, ) ,.,.
_,, > servants to Oliver.
Dennis,)
Touchstone, a clown.
Sir Oliver Martext, a vicar.
' V shepherds.
Sylvius, J
William, a country fellow, in love with Audrey.
A person representing Hymen.
ROSALIND, daughter to the banished Duke.
Celia, daughter to Frederick.
Puebe. a shepherdess.
Audrey, a country wench.
Lords, pages, and attendants, &c.
Scene: Oliver's house; Duke Frederick's court ; and the Forest of Arden.
As You Like it.
ACT FIRST.
Scene I.
Orchard of Oliver's house.
Enter Orlando and Adam.
Orl. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion :
bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand
crowns, and, as thou sayest, charged my brother,
on his blessing, to breed me well : and there
begins my sadness. My brother Jaques he
keeps at school, and report speaks goldenly of
his profit : for my part, he keeps me rustically at
home, or, to speak more properly, stays me here
at home unkept ; for call you that keeping for a
gentleman of my birth, that differs not from the io
stalling of an ox ? His horses are bred better ;
for, besides that they are fair with their feeding,
they are taught their manage, and to that end
riders dearly hired : but I, his brother, gain
nothing under him but growth ; for the which
his animals on his dunghills are as much bound
to him as I. Besides this nothing that he so
plentifully gives me, the something that nature
gave me his countenance seems to take from me :
he lets me feed with his hinds, bars me the place 20
of a brother, and, as much as in him lies, mines
3 H
Act l- Sc- »• AS YOU LIKE IT
my gentility with my education. This is it,
Adam, that grieves me ; and the spirit of my
father, which I think is within me, begins to
mutiny against this servitude : I will no longer
endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy
how to avoid it.
Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother.
Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he
will shake me up. 30
Enter Oliver.
Oli. Now, sir ! what make you here ?
Or/. Nothing : I am not taught to make any thing.
Oli. What mar you then, sir ?
Or/. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which
God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours,
with idleness.
Oli. Marry, sir, be better employed, and be naught
awhile.
Orl. Shall I keep your hogs and eat husks with them ?
What prodigal portion have I spent, that I should 40
come to such penury ?
Oli. Know you where you are, sir ?
Orl. O, sir, very well ; here in your orchard.
Oli. Know you before whom, sir ?
Orl. Ay, better than him I am before knows me.
I know you are my eldest brother ; and, in
the gentle condition of blood, you should so
know me. The courtesy of nations allows you
my better, in that you are the first-born ; but the
same tradition takes not away my blood, were 50
there twenty brothers betwixt us: I have as much
AS YOU LIKE IT Act I. Sc. i.
of my father in me as you ; albeit, I confess, your
coming before me is nearer to his reverence.
OIL What, boy !
Or/. Come, come, elder brother, you are too young
in this.
OH. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain ?
OH. I am no villain ; I am the youngest son of Sir
Rowland de Boys ; he was my father, and he
is thrice a villain that says such a father begot 60
villains. Wert thou not my brother, I would not
take this hand from thy throat till this other had
pulled out thy tongue for saying so : thou hast
railed on thyself.
Adam. Sweet masters, be patient : for your father's
remembrance, be at accord.
Oli. Let me go, I say.
Or/. I will not, till I please : you shall hear me. My
father charged you in his will to give me good
education : you have trained me like a peasant, 70
obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-
like qualities. The spirit of my father grows
strong in me, and I will no longer endure it :
therefore allow me such exercises as may become
a gentleman, or give me the poor allottery my
father left me by testament ; with that I will go
buy my fortunes.
Oli. And what wilt thou do ? beg, when that is spent?
Well, sir, get you in : I will not long be troubled
with you ; you shall have some part of your 80
will : I pray you, leave me.
Or/. I will no further offend you than becomes me
for my good.
Act l' Sc- »• AS YOU LIKE IT
Oli. Get you with him, you old dog.
Adam. Is ' old dog ' my reward ? Most true, I have
lost my teeth in your service. God be with
my old master ! he would not have spoke such
a word. [Exeunt Orlando and Adam.
Oli. Is it even so ? begin you to grow upon me ? I
will physic your rankness, and yet give no thou- 90
sand crowns neither. Holla, Dennis !
Enter Dennis.
Den. Calls your worship ?
Oli. Was not Charles, the Duke's wrestler, here to
speak with me ?
Den. So please you, he is here at the door and im-
portunes access to you.
Oli. Call him in. [Exit Dennis.] 'Twill be a good way ;
and to-morrow the wrestling is.
Enter Charles.
Cha. Good morrow to your worship.
Oli. Good Monsieur Charles, what's the new news 100
at the new court ?
Cha. There's no news at the court, sir, but the
old news : that is, the old Duke is banished by
his younger brother the new Duke ; and three
or four loving lords have put themselves into
voluntary exile with him, whose lands and re-
venues enrich the new Duke ; therefore he gives
them good leave to wander.
Oli. Can you tell if Rosalind, the Duke's daughter,
be banished with her father ? 1 10
Cha. O, no; for the Duke's daughter, her cousin,
AS YOU LIKE IT Act I. Sc. i.
so loves her, being ever from their cradles bred
together, that she would have followed her exile,
or have died to stay behind her. She is at the
court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his
own daughter; and never two ladies loved as
they do.
Oli. Where will the old Duke live ?
Cha. They say he is already in the forest of Arden,
and a many merry men with him ; and there 1 20
they live like the old Robin Hood of England :
they say many young gentlemen flock to him
every day, and fleet the time carelessly, as they
did in the golden world.
Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new
Duke ?
Cha. Marry, do I, sir ; and I came to acquaint you
with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to
understand that your younger brother, Orlando,
hath a disposition to come in disguised against 130
me to try a fall. To-morrow, sir, I wrestle
for my credit ; and he that escapes me without
some broken limb shall acquit him well. Your
brother is but young and tender ; and, for your
love, I would be loath to foil him, as I must, for
my own honour, if he come in : therefore, out
of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you
withal ; that either you might stay him from his
intendment, or brook such disgrace well as he
shall run into ; in that it is a thing of his own 140
search, and altogether against my will.
Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which
thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I
Act I. Sc. i. AS YOU LIKE IT
had myself notice of my brother's purpose
herein, and have by underhand means laboured
to dissuade him from it, but he is resolute. I'll
tell thee, Charles : — it is the stubbornest young
fellow of France ; full of ambition, an envious
emulator of every man's good parts, a secret and
villanous contriver against me his natural brother: 150
therefore use thy discretion ; I had as lief thou
didst break his neck as his finger. And thou
wert best look to 't ; for if thou dost him any
slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace
himself on thee, he will practise against thee by
poison, entrap thee by some treacherous device,
and never leave thee till he hath ta'en thy life by
some indirect means or other ; for, I assure thee,
and almost with tears I speak it, there is not one
so young and so villanous this day living. I speak 160
but brotherly of him ; but should I anatomize
him to thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and
thou must look pale and wonder.
Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If he
come to-morrow, I '11 give him his payment : if
ever he go alone again, I'll never wrestle for
prize more : and so, God keep your worship !
OH. Farewell, good Charles. [Exit Charles.] Now
will I stir this gamester : I hope I shall see an
end of him; for my soul, yet I know not why, 170
hates nothing more than he. Yet he 's gentle ;
never schooled, and yet learned ; full of noble
device ; of all sorts enchantingly beloved ; and
indeed so much in the heart of the world, and
especially of my own people, who best know
AS YOU LIKE IT Act I. Sc. ii.
him, that I am altogether misprised : but it shall
not be so long ; this wrestler shall clear all :
nothing remains but that I kindle the boy
thither; which now I'll go about. [Exit.
Scene II.
Lawn before the Duke's palace.
Enter Rosalind and Celia.
Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry.
Ros. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress
of; and would you yet I were merrier? Unless
you could teach me to forget a banished father,
you must not learn me how to remember any ex-
traordinary pleasure.
Cel. Herein I see thou lovest me not with the full
weight that I love thee. If my uncle, thy
banished father, had banished thy uncle, the
Duke my father, so thou hadst been still with io
me, I could have taught my love to take thy
father for mine : so wouldst thou, if the truth of
thy love to me were so righteously tempered as
mine is to thee.
Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to
rejoice in yours.
Cel. You know my father hath no child but I, nor
none is like to have : and, truly, when he dies,
thou shalt be his heir ; for what he hath taken
away from thy father perforce, I will render 20
thee again in affection ; by mine honour, I will ;
and when I break that oath, let me turn monster :
Act I. Sc. ii. AS YOU LIKE IT
therefore, my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be
merry.
Ros. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports.
Let me see ; what think you of falling in love ?
Cel. Marry, I prithee, do, to make sport withal : but
love no man in good earnest ; nor no further in
sport neither, than with safety of a pure blush
thou mayst in honour come off again. 30
Ros. What shall be our sport, then ?
Cel. Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune
from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be
bestowed equally.
Ros. I would we could do so ; for her benefits are
mightily misplaced ; and the bountiful blind
woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women.
Cel. 'Tis true ; for those that she makes fair she scarce
makes honest ; and those that she makes honest
she makes very ill-favouredly. 40
Ros. Nay, now thou goest from Fortune's office to
Nature's : Fortune reigns in gifts of the world,
not in the lineaments of Nature.
Enter Touchstone.
Cel. No ? when Nature hath made a fair creature, may
she not by Fortune fall into the fire ? Though
Nature hath given us wit to flout at Fortune,
hath not Fortune sent in this fool to cut off the
argument ?
Ros. Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Nature,
when Fortune makes Nature's natural the cutter- 50
off of Nature's wit.
Cel. Peradventure this is not Fortune's work neither,
AS YOU LIKE IT Act I. Sc. ii.
but Nature's ; who perceiveth our natural wits
too dull to reason of such goddesses, and hath
sent this natural for our whetstone ; for always
the dulness of the fool is the whetstone of the
wits. How now, wit ! whither wander you ?
Touch. Mistress, you must come away to your father.
Cel. Were you made the messenger ?
Touch. No, by mine honour, but I was bid to come for 60
you.
Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool ?
Touch. Of a certain knight that swore by his honour
they were good pancakes, and swore by his
honour the mustard was naught ; now I '11 stand
to it, the pancakes were naught and the mustard
was good, and yet was not the knight forsworn.
Cel. How prove you that, in the great heap of your
knowledge ?
Ros. Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom. 7°
Touch. Stand you both forth now : stroke your chins,
and swear by your beards that I am a knave.
Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art.
Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were ; but
if you swear by that that is not, you are not for-
sworn : no more was this knight, swearing by his
honour, for he never had any ; or if he had, he
had sworn it away before ever he saw those pan-
cakes or that mustard.
Cel. Prithee, who is 't that thou meanest ? 80
Touch. One that old Frederick, your father, loves.
Cel. My father's love is enough to honour him :
enough ! speak no more of him ; you '11 be
whipped for taxation one of these days.
Act I. Sc. ii. AS YOU LIKE IT
Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely
■what wise men do foolishly.
Cel. By my troth, thou sayest true; for since the
little wit that fools have was silenced, the little
foolery that wise men have makes a great show.
Here comes Monsieur Le Beau. 90
Ros. With his mouth full of news.
Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their
young.
Ros. Then shall we be news-crammed.
Cel. All the better ; we shall be the more marketable.
Enter Le Beau.
Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau ; what 's the news ?
Le Beau. Fair princess, you have lost much good
sport.
Cel. Sport ! of what colour ?
Le Beau. What colour, madam ! how shall I answer 1 00
you ?
Ros. As wit and fortune will.
Touch. Or as the Destinies decrees.
Cel. Well said : that was laid on with a trowel.
Touch. Nay, if I keep not my rank, —
Ros. Thou losest thy old smell.
Le Beau. You amaze me, ladies : I would have told
you of good wrestling, which you have lost the
sight of.
Ros. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. 1 10
Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning •, and, if it
please your ladyships, you may see the end ; for
the best is yet to do ; and here, where you are,
they are coming to perform it.
AS YOU LIKE IT Act I. Sc. ii.
Cel. Well, the beginning, that is dead and buried.
Le Beau. There comes an old man and his three
sons, —
Cel. I could match this beginning with an old
tale.
Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent 1 20
growth and presence.
Ros. With bills on their necks, ' Be it known unto
all men by these presents.'
Le Beau. The eldest of the three wrestled with
Charles, the Duke's wrestler ; which Charles in
a moment threw him, and broke three of his ribs,
that there is little hope of life in him : so he
served the second, and so the third. Yonder
they lie ; the poor old man, their father, making
such pitiful dole over them that all the beholders 130
take his part with weeping.
Ros. Alas!
Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, that the
ladies have lost ?
Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of.
Touch. Thus men may grow wiser every day : it is
the first time that ever I heard breaking of ribs
was sport for ladies.
Cel. Or I, I promise thee.
Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broken 140
music in his sides ? is there yet another dotes
upon rib-breaking ? Shall we see this wrestling,
cousin ?
Le Beau. You must, if you stay here ; for here is the
place appointed for the wrestling, and they are
ready to perform it.
Act I. Sc. ii. AS Y0U LIKE IT
Cel. Yonder, sure, they are coming : let us now stay
and see it.
Flourish. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, Orlando,
Charles, and Attendants.
Duke F. Come on : since the youth will not be en-
treated, his own peril on his forwardness. 1 50
Ros. Is yonder the man ?
Le Beau. Even he, madam.
Cel. Alas, he is too young ! yet he looks successfully.
Duke F. How now, daughter and cousin ! are you
crept hither to see the wrestling ?
Ros. Ay, my liege, so please you give us leave.
Duke F. You will take little delight in it, I can
tell you, there is such odds in the man. In
pity of the challenger's youth I would fain dis-
suade him, but he will not be entreated. Speak 1 60
to him, ladies ; see if you can move him.
Cel. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau.
Duke F. Do so : I '11 not be by.
Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the princess calls
for you.
Orl. I attend them with all respect and duty.
Ros. Young man, have you challenged Charles the
wrestler ?
Orl. No, fair princess ; he is the general challenger :
I come but in, as others do, to try with him the 170
strength of my youth.
Cel. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for
your years. You have seen cruel proof of this
man's strength : if you saw yourself with your
AS YOU LIKE IT Act *• Sc- »•
eyes, or knew yourself with your judgement, the
fear of your adventure would counsel you to a
more equal enterprise. We pray you, for your
own sake, to embrace your own safety, and give
over this attempt.
Ros. Do, young sir; your reputation shall not 180
therefore be misprised : we will make it our
suit to the Duke that the wrestling might not
go forward.
Or/. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard
thoughts ; wherein I confess me much guilty, to
deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But
let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me
to my trial : wherein if I be foiled, there is but
one shamed that was never gracious ; if killed,
but one dead that is willing to be so: I shall 190
do my friends no wrong, for I have none to
lament me ; the world no injury, for in it I have
nothing : only in the world I fill up a place,
which may be better supplied when I have made
it empty.
Ros. The little strength that I have, I would it were
with you.
Cel. And mine, to eke out hers.
Ros. Fare you well: pray heaven I be deceived in you!
Cel. Your heart's desires be with you ! 200
Cha. Come, where is this young gallant that is so
desirous to lie with his mother earth ?
Orl. Ready, sir j but his will hath in it a more modest
working.
Duke F. You shall try but one fall.
Cha. No, I warrant your Grace, you shall not entreat
Act I. Sc. ii. AS YOU LIKE IT
him to a second, that have so mightily persuaded
him from a first.
Orl. You mean to mock me after ; you should not
have mocked me before : but come your ways. 210
Ros. Now Hercules be thy speed, young man !
Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong
fellow by the leg. [They wrestle.
Ros. O excellent young man !
Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who
should down. [Shout. Charles is thrown.
Duke F. No more, no more.
Orl. Yes, I beseech your Grace : I am not yet well
breathed.
Duke F. How dost thou, Charles? 220
Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord.
Duke F. Bear him away. What is thy name, young
man ?
Orl. Orlando, my liege ; the youngest son of Sir
Rowland de Boys.
Duke F. I would thou hadst been son to some man else :
The world esteem'd thy father honourable,
But I did find him still mine enemy :
Thou shouldst have better pleased me with this
deed,
Hadst thou descended from another house. 230
But fare thee well ; thou art a gallant youth :
I would thou hadst told me of another father.
[Exeunt Duke Fred., train, and Le Beau.
Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this ?
Orl. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son,
His youngest son ; and would not change that calling,
To be adopted heir to Frederick.
AS YOU LIKE IT Act I. Sc. ii.
Ros. My father loved Sir Rowland as his soul,
And all the world was of my father's mind :
Had I before known this young man his son,
I should have given him tears unto entreaties, 240
Ere he should thus have ventured.
Cel. Gentle cousin,
Let us go thank him and encourage him :
My father's rough and envious disposition
Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well deserved :
If you do keep your promises in love
But justly, as you have exceeded all promise,
Your mistress shall be happy.
Ros. Gentleman,
[Giving him a chain from her neck.
Wear this for me, one out of suits with fortune,
That could give more, but that her hand lacks means.
Shall we go, coz ?
Cel. Ay. Fair you well, fair gentleman. 250
Or/. Can I not say, I thank you ? My better parts
Are all thrown down, and that which here stands up
Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block.
Ros. He calls us back : my pride fell with my fortunes ;
I '11 ask him what he would. Did you call, sir ?
Sir, you have wrestled well and overthrown
More ti.an your enemies.
Cel. Will you go, coz ?
Ros. Have with you. Fare you well.
[Exeunt Rosalind and Celia.
Orl. What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue ?
I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference. 260
O poor Orlando, thou art overthrown !
Or Charles or something weaker masters thee.
Act I. Sc. ii. AS you LIKE IT
Re-enter Le Beau.
Le Beau. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you
To leave this place. Albeit you have deserved
High commendation, true applause, and love,
Yet such is now the Duke's condition,
That he misconstrues all that you have done.
The Duke is humorous : what he is, indeed,
More suits you to conceive than I to speak of.
Or/. I thank you, sir : and, pray you, tell me this ; 270
Which of the two was daughter of the Duke,
That here was at the wrestling ?
Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners ;
But yet, indeed, the taller is his daughter :
The other is daughter to the banish'd Duke,
And here detain'd by her usurping uncle,
To keep his daughter company ; whose loves
Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters.
But I can tell you that of late this Duke
Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece, 280
Grounded upon no other argument
But that the people praise her for her virtues,
And pity her for her good father's sake ;
And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady
Will suddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well :
Hereafter, in a better world than this,
I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.
Or/. I rest much bounden to you : fare you well.
[Exit Le Beau.
Thus must I from the smoke into the smother j
From tyrant Duke unto a tyrant brother : 290
But heavenly Rosalind ! [Exit,
AS YOU LIKE IT Act I. Sc. iii.
Scene III.
A room in the palace.
Enter Celia and Rosalind,
Cel. Why, cousin ! why, Rosalind ! Cupid have
mercy ! not a word ?
Ros. Not one to throw at a dog.
Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away
upon curs ; throw some of them at me ; come,
lame me with reasons.
Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up ; when the
one should be lamed with reasons and the other
mad without any.
Cel. But is all this for your father? io
Ros. No, some of it is for my child's father. O, how
full of briers is this working-day world !
Cel. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in
holiday foolery : if we walk not in the trodden
paths, our very petticoats will catch them.
Ros. I could shake them off my coat : these burs are
in my heart.
Cel. Hem them away.
Ros. I would try, if I could cry hem and have
him. 20
Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections.
Ros. O, they take the part of a better wrestler than
myself!
Cel. O, a good wish upon you ! you will try in time,
in despite of a fall. But, turning these jests out
of service, let us talk in good earnest : is it
possible, on such a sudden, you should fall
3 i
Act I. Sc. iii. AS YOU LIKE IT
into so strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's
youngest son ?
Ros. The Duke my father loved his father dearly. 30
Cel. Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his
son dearly ? By this kind of chase, I should
hate him, for my father hated his father dearly ;
yet I hate not Orlando.
Ros. No, faith, hate him not, for my sake.
Cel. Why should I not ? doth he not deserve well ?
Ros. Let me love him for that, and do you love him
because I do. Look, here comes the Duke.
Cel. With his eyes full of anger.
Enter Duke Frederick, ivlth Lords.
Duke F. Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste 40
And get yon from our court.
Ros. Me, uncle ?
Duke F. You, cousin:
Within these ten days if that thou be'st found
So near our public court as twenty miles,
Thou diest for it.
Ros. I do beseech your Grace,
Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me :
If with myself I hold intelligence,
Or have acquaintance with mine own desires ;
If that I do not dream, or be not frantic, —
As I do trust I am not, — then, dear uncle,
Never so much as in a thought unborn 50
Did I offend your Highness.
Duke F. Thus do all traitors :
If their purgation did consist in words,
They are as innocent as grace itself;
AS YOU LIKE IT Act I. Sc. iii.
Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not.
Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor :
Tell me whereon the likelihood depends.
Duke F. Thou art thy father's daughter ; there 's enough.
Ros. So was I when your Highness took his dukedom ;
So was I when your Highness banish'd him :
Treason is not inherited, my lord ; 60
Or, if we did derive it from our friends,
What 's that to me ? my father was no traitor :
Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much
To think my poverty is treacherous.
Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak.
Duke F. Ay, Celia ; we stay'd her for your sake,
Else had she with her father ranged along.
Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay ;
It was your pleasure and your own remorse :
I was too young that time to value her ; 70
But now I know her : if she be a traitor,
Why so am I j we still have slept together,
Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together,
And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans,
Still we went coupled and inseparable.
Duke F. She is too subtle for thee ; and her smoothness,
Her very silence and her patience
Speak to the people, and they pity her.
Thou art a fool : she robs thee of thy name ;
And thou wilt show more bright and seem more virtuous
When she is gone. Then open not thy lips : 81
Firm and irrevocable is my doom
Which I have pass'd upon her ; she is banish'd.
Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege :
I cannot live out of her company.
Act I. Sc. iii. AS YOU LIKE IT
Duke F. You are a fool. You, niece, provide yourself :
If you outstay the time, upon mine honour,
And in the greatness of my word, you die.
[Exeunt Duke Frederick and Lords.
Cel. O my poor Rosalind, whither wilt thou go ?
Wilt thou change fathers ? I will give thee mine. 90
I charge thee, be not thou more grieved than I am.
Ros. I have more cause.
Cel. Thou hast not, cousin ;
Prithee, be cheerful : know'st thou not, the Duke
Hath banish'd me, his daughter ?
Ros. That he hath not.
Cel. No, hath not ? Rosalind lacks then the love
Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one :
Shall we be sunder'd ? shall we part, sweet girl ?
No : let my father seek another heir.
Therefore devise with me how we may fly,
Whither to go and what to bear with us ; 100
And do not seek to take your charge upon you,
To bear your griefs yourself and leave me out ;
For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale,
Say what thou canst, I '11 go along with thee.
Ros. Why, whither shall we go ?
Cel. To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden.
Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to us,
Maids as we are, to travel forth so far !
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.
Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire 1 10
And with a kind of umber smirch my face ;
The like do you : so shall we pass along
And never stir assailants.
Ros. Were it not better,
AS YOU LIKE IT Act I. Sc. iii.
Because that I am more than common tall,
That I did suit me all points like a man ?
A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh,
A boar-spear in my hand ; and — in my heart
Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will —
We '11 have a swashing and a martial outside,
As many other mannish cowards have 120
That do outface it with their semblances.
Cel. What shall I call thee when thou art a man ?
Ros. I '11 have no worse a name than Jove's own page ;
And therefore look you call me Ganymede.
But what will you be call'd ?
Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state :
No longer Celia, but Aliena.
Ros. But, cousin, what if we assay'd to steal
The clownish fool out of your father's court ?
Would he not be a comfort to our travel ? 1 30
Cel. He '11 go along o'er the wide world with me ;
Leave me alone to woo him. Let 's away,
And get our jewels and our wealth together ;
Devise the fittest time and safest way
To hide us from pursuit that will be made
After my flight. Now go we in content
To liberty and not to banishment. [Exeunt.
Act II Sc. i. AS YOU LIKE IT
ACT SECOND.
Scene I.
The Forest of Arden.
Enter Duke senior, Amiens, and two or three Lords, like
foresters.
Duke S. Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile,
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
Than that of painted pomp ? Are not these woods
More free from peril than the envious court ?
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
The seasons' difference ; as the icy fang
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind,
Which, when it bites and blows upon my body,
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say
' This is no flattery : these are counsellors io
That feelingly persuade me what I am.'
Sweet are the uses of adversity ;
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head :
And this our life exempt from public haunt
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones and good in every thing.
I would not change it.
Ami. Happy is your Grace,
That can translate the stubbornness of fortune
Into so quiet and so sweet a style. 20
Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison ?
And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools,
Being native burghers of this desert city,
Should in their own confines with forked heads
AS YOU LIKE IT Act l1' Sc' u
Have their round haunches gored.
First Lord. Indeed, my lord,
The melancholy Jaques grieves at that,
And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp
Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you.
To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself
Did steal behind him as he lay along 30
Under an oak whose antique root peeps out
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood :
To the which place a poor sequester'd stag,
That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt,
Did come to languish, and indeed, my lord,
The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans,
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat
Almost to bursting, and the big round tears
Coursed one another down his innocent nose
In piteous chase ; and thus the hairy fool, 40
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,
Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook
Augmenting it with tears.
Duke S. But what said Jaques ?
Did he not moralize this spectacle ?
First Lord. O, yes, into a thousand similes.
First, for his weeping into the needless stream ;
' Poor deer,' quoth he, ' thou makest a testament
As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more
To that which had too much : ' then, being there alone,
Left and abandoned of his velvet friends 5 5°
' 'Tis right,' quoth he ; ' thus misery doth part
The flux of company : ' anon a careless herd,
Full of the pasture, jumps along by him
And never stays to greet him ; ' Ay,' quoth Jaques,
Act II. Sc. ii. AS YOU LIKE IT
' Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens ;
'Tis just the fashion : wherefore do you look
Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there ? '
Thus most invectively he pierceth through
The body of the country, city, court,
Yea, and of this our life ; swearing that we 60
Are mere usurpers, tyrants and what 's worse,
To fright the animals and to kill them up
In their assign'd and native dwelling-place.
Duke S. And did you leave him in this contemplation ?
Sec. Lord. "We did, my lord, weeping and commenting
Upon the sobbing deer.
Duke S. Show me the place :
I love to cope him in these sullen fits,
For then he 's full of matter.
First Lord. I '11 bring you to him straight. [Exeunt.
Scene II.
A room in the palace.
Enter Duke Frederick, nvith Lords.
Duke F. Can it be possible that no man saw them ?
It cannot be : some villains of my court
Are of consent and sufferance in this.
First Lord. I cannot hear of any that did see her.
The ladies, her attendants of her chamber,
Saw her a-bed, and in the morning early
They found the bed untreasured of their mistress.
Sec. Lord. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft
Your Grace was wont to laugh, is also missing.
Hisperia, the princess' gentlewoman, 10
Confesses that she secretly o'erheard
AS YOU LIKE IT Act II. Sc. iii.
Your daughter and her cousin much commend
The parts and graces of the wrestler
That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles ;
And she believes, wherever they are gone,
That youth is surely in their company.
Duke F. Send to his brother : fetch that gallant hither j
If he be absent, bring his brother to me ;
I '11 make him find him : do this suddenly,
And let not search and inquisition quail 20
To bring again these foolish runaways. [Exeunt.
Scene III.
Before Oliver's house.
Enter Orlando and Adam, meeting.
Orl. Who 's there ?
Adam. What, my young master ? O my gentle master !
O my sweet master ! O you memory
Of old Sir Rowland ! why, what make you here ?
Why are you virtuous ? why do people love you ?
And wherefore are you gentle, strong and valiant ?
Why would you be so fond to overcome
The bonny priser of the humorous Duke ?
Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.
Know you not, master, to some kind of men 10
Their graces serve them but as enemies ?
No more do yours: your virtues, gentle master,
Are sanctified and holy traitors to you.
O, what a world is this, when what is comely
Envenoms him that bears it !
Orl. Why, what's the matter ?
Adam. O unhappy youth !
Act II. Sc. iii. AS YOU LIKE IT
Come not within these doors ; within this roof
The enemy of all your graces lives :
Your brother — no, no brother ; yet the son —
Yet not the son, I will not call him son, 20
Of him I was about to call his father, —
Hath heard your praises, and this night he means
To burn the lodging where you use to lie
And you within it : if he fail of that,
He will have other means to cut you off.
I overheard him and his practices.
This is no place ; this house is but a butchery :
Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.
Or/. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go ?
Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here. 30
Or/. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food ?
Or with a base and boisterous sword enforce
A thievish living on the common road ?
This I must do, or know not what to do :
Yet this I will not do, do how I can ;
I rather will subject me to the malice
Of a diverted blood and bloody brother.
Adam. But do not so. I have five hundred crowns,
The thrifty hire I saved under your father,
Which I did store to be my foster-nurse 40
When service should in my old limbs lie lame,
And unregarded age in corners thrown :
Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed,
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
Be comfort to my age ! Here is the gold ;
All this I give you. Let me be your servant :
Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty ;
For in my youth I never did apply
AS YOU LIKE IT Act II. Sc. iii.
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood,
Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo 50
The means of weakness and debility ;
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,
Frosty, but kindly : let me go with you ;
I '11 do the service of a younger man
In all your business and necessities.
Orl. O good old man, how well in thee appears
The constant service of the antique world,
When service sweat for duty, not for meed !
Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
Where none will sweat but for promotion, 60
And having that do choke their service up
Even with the having : it is not so with thee.
But, poor old man, thou prunest a rotten tree,
That cannot so much as a blossom yield
In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry.
But come thy ways ; we '11 go along together,
And ere we have thy youthful wages spent,
We '11 light upon some settled low content.
Adam. Master, go on, and I will follow thee,
To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty. 70
From seventeen years till now almost fourscore
Here lived I, but now live here no more.
At seventeen years many their fortunes seek ;
But at fourscore it is too late a week :
Yet fortune cannot recompense me better
Than to die well and not my master's debtor. [Exeunt.
Act II. Sc. iv. AS YOU LIKE IT
Scene IV.
The Forest of Arden.
Enter Rosalind for Ganymede, Celiafor Al'iena, and
Touchstone.
Ros. O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits !
Touch. I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not
weary.
Ros. I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's
apparel and to cry like a woman ; but I must
comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose
ought to show itself courageous to petticoat :
therefore, courage, good Aliena.
Cel. I pray you, bear with me ; I cannot go no
further. 10
Touch. For my part, I had rather bear with you
than bear you : yet I should bear no cross, if I
did bear you ; for I think you have no money
in your purse.
Ros. Well, this is the forest of Arden.
Touch. Ay, now am I in Arden ; the more fool I ;
when I was at home, I was in a better place :
but travellers must be content.
Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone.
Enter Corin and Silvius.
Look you, who comes here ; a young man and 20
an old in solemn talk.
Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still.
Si/. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her !
Cor. I partly guess ; for I have loved ere now.
Si/. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess,
AS YOU LIKE IT Act II. Sc. iv.
Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover
As ever sigh'd upon a midnight pillow :
But if thy love were ever like to mine, —
As sure I think did never man love so, —
How many actions most ridiculous 30
Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy ?
Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten.
Si/. O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily !
If thou remember'st not the slightest folly
That ever love did make thee run into,
Thou hast not loved :
Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,
Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress' praise,
Thou hast not loved :
Or if thou hast not broke from company 40
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,
Thou hast not loved.
0 Phebe, Phebe, Phebe ! [Exit.
Ros. Alas, poor shepherd ! searching of thy wound,
1 have by hard adventure found mine own.
Touch. And I mine. I remember, when I was in
love I broke my sword upon a stone and bid
him take that for coming a-night to Jane Smile :
and I remember the kissing of her batlet and
the cow's dugs that her pretty chopt hands had 50
milked : and I remember the wooing of a
peascod instead of her ; from whom I took two
cods and, giving her them again, said with weep-
ing tears ' Wear these for my sake.' We that
are true lovers run into strange capers ; but as
all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love
mortal in folly.
Act II. Sc. iv. AS YOU LIKE IT
Ros. Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware of.
Touch. Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of my own wit
till I break my shins against it. 60
Ros. Jove, Jove ! this shepherd's passion
Is much upon my fashion.
Touch. And mine j but it grows something stale with me.
Cel. I pray you, one of you question yond man
If he for gold will give us any food :
I faint almost to death.
Touch. Holla, you clown !
Ros. Peace, fool : he \s not thy kinsman.
Car. Who calls ?
Touch. Your betters, sir.
Cor. Else are they very wretched.
Ros. Peace, I say. Good even to you, friend.
Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. 70
Ros. I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold
Can in this desert place buy entertainment,
Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed :
Here 's a young maid with travel much oppress'd
And faints for succour.
Cor. Fair sir, I pity her
And wish, for her sake more than for mine own,
My fortunes were more able to relieve her ;
But I am shepherd to another man
And do not shear the fleeces that I graze :
My master is of churlish disposition 80
And little recks to find the way to heaven
By doing deeds of hospitality :
Besides, his cote, his flocks and bounds of feed
Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now,
By reason of his absence, there is nothing
AS YOU LIKE IT Act II. Sc. v.
That you will feed on ; but what is, come see,
And in my voice most welcome shall you be.
Ros. What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture ?
Cor. That young swain that you saw here but erewhile,
That little cares for buying any thing. 90
Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty,
Buy thou the cottage, pasture and the flock,
And thou shalt have to pay for it of us.
Cel. And we will mend thy wages. I like this place,
And willingly could waste my time in it.
Cor. Assuredly the thing is to be sold :
Go with me : if you like upon report
The soil, the profit and this kind of life,
I will your very faithful feeder be 99
And buy it with your gold right suddenly. [Exeunt.
Scene V.
The forest.
Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others.
Song.
Ami. Under the greenwood tree
Who loves to lie with me,
And turn his merry note
Unto the sweet bird's throat,
Come hither, come hither, come hither :
Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather.
Jaq. More, more, I prithee, more.
Ami. It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques. 10
Act II. Sc. v. AS YOU LIKE IT
Jaq. I thank, it. More, I prithee, more. I can suck
melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs.
More, I prithee, more.
Ami. My voice is ragged : I know I cannot please
you.
Jaq. I do not desire you to please me ; I do desire
you to sing. Come, more ; another stanzo : call
you 'em stanzos ?
Ami. What you will, Monsieur Jaques.
Jaq. Nay, I care not for their names ; they owe me 20
nothing. Will you sing ?
Ami. More at your request than to please myself.
Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I '11 thank
you ; but that they call compliment is like the
encounter of two dog-apes, and when a man
thanks me heartily, methinks I have given him a
penny and he renders me the beggarly thanks.
Come, sing ; and you that will not, hold your
tongues.
Ami. Well, I '11 end the song. Sirs, cover the while ; 30
the Duke will drink under this tree. He hath
been all this day to look you.
Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid him. He
is too disputable for my company : I think of as
many matters as he; but I give heaven thanks,
and make no boast of them. Come, warble,
come.
Song.
Who doth ambition shun, [All together here.
And loves to live i' the sun,
Seeking the food he eats, 40
And pleased with what he gets,
AS YOU LIKE IT Act II. Sc. vi.
Come hither, come hither, come hither :
Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather.
Jaq. I'll give you a verse to this note, that I made
yesterday in despite of my invention.
Ami. And I '11 sing it.
Jaq. Thus it goes : —
If it do come to pass 5°
That any man turn ass,
Leaving his wealth and ease
A stubborn will to please,
Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame :
Here shall he see
Gross fools as he,
And if he will come to me.
Ami. What 's that ' ducdame ' ?
Jaq. 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a
circle. I'll go sleep, if I can; if I cannot, I'll 60
rail against all the first-born of Egypt.
Ami. And I'll go seek the Duke: his banquet is
prepared. [Exeunt severally.
Scene VI.
The forest.
Enter Orlando and Adam.
Adam. Dear master, I can go no further ; O, I die
for food ! Here lie I down, and measure out
my grave. Farewell, kind master.
Orl. Why, how now, Adam ! no greater heart in
3 K
Act II. Sc. vii. AS YOU LIKE IT
thee ? Live a little ; comfort a little ; cheer
thyself a little. If this uncouth forest yield any
thing savage, I will either be food for it or bring
it for food to thee. Thy conceit is nearer death
than thy powers. For my sake be comfortable ;
hold death awhile at the arm's end : I will here io
be with thee presently ; and if I bring thee not
something to eat, I will give thee leave to die :
but if thou diest before I come, thou art a mocker
of my labour. Well said ! thou lookest cheerly,
and I'll be with thee quickly. Yet thou liest in
the bleak air : come, I will bear thee to some
shelter •, and thou shalt not die for lack of a
dinner, if there live any thing in this desert.
Cheerly, good Adam ! [Exeunt.
Scene VII.
The forest.
A table set oat. Enter Duke senior, Amiens, and Lords like
outlaius.
Duke S. I think he be transform'd into a beast ;
For I can no where find him like a man.
First Lord. My lord, he is but even now gone hence :
Here was he merry, hearing of a song.
Duke S. If he, compact of jars, grow musical,
"We shall have shortly discord in the spheres.
Go, seek him : tell him I would speak with him.
Enter Jaques.
First Lord. He saves my labour by his own approach.
Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur ! what a life is this,
AS YOU LIKE IT Act "■ Sc. vii.
That your poor friends must woo your company ? io
What, you look merrily !
Jaq. A fool, a fool ! I met a fool i' the forest,
A motley fool ; a miserable world !
As I do live by food, I met a fool ;
Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun,
And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms,
In good set terms, and yet a motley fool.
' Good morrow, fool,' quoth I. ' No, sir,' quoth he,
' Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune :'
And then he drew a dial from his poke, 20
And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says very wisely, ' It is ten o'clock :
Thus we may see,' quoth he, 'how the world wags :
'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine ;
And after one hour more 'twill be eleven ;
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,
And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot ;
And thereby hangs a tale.' When I did hear
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, 30
That fools should be so deep-contemplative ;
And I did laugh sans intermission
An hour by his dial. O noble fool !
A worthy fool ! Motley 's the only wear.
Duke S. What fool is this ?
Jaq. O worthy fool ! One that hath been a courtier,
And says, if ladies be but young and fair,
They have the gift to know it : and in his brain,
Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit
After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd 40
With observation, the which he vents
Act II. Sc. vii. AS you LIK£ IT
In mangled forms. O that I were a fool !
I am ambitious for a motley coat.
Duke S. Thou shalt have one.
Jaq. It is my only suit ;
Provided that you weed your better judgements
Of all opinion that grows rank in them
That I am wise. I must have liberty
Withal, as large a charter as the wind,
To blow on whom I please ; for so fools have •,
And they that are most galled with my folly, 5°
They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so ?
The ' why ' is plain as way to parish church :
He that a fool doth very wisely hit
Doth very foolishly, although he smart,
Not to seem senseless of the bob : if not,
The wise man's folly is anatomized
Even by the squandering glances of the fool.
Invest me in my motley ; give me leave
To speak my mind, and I will through and through
Cleanse the foul body of the infected world, 60
If they will patiently receive my medicine.
Duke S. Fie on thee ! I can tell what thou wouldst do.
Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do but good ?
Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin :
For thou thyself hast been a libertine,
As sensual as the brutish sting itself;
And all the embossed sores and headed evils,
That thou with license of free foot hast caught,
Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world.
Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride, 7°
That can therein tax any private party ?
Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea,
AS YOU LIKE IT Act H. Sc. vii.
Till that the weary very means do ebb ?
What woman in the city do I name,
When that I say the city-woman bears
The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders ?
Who can come in and say that I mean her,
When such a one as she such is her neighbour ?
Or what is he of basest function,
That says his bravery is not on my cost, 80
Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits
His folly to the mettle of my speech ?
There then; how then? what then? Let me see wherein
My tongue hath wrong'd him : if it do him right,
Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free,
Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies,
Unclaim'd of any man. But who comes here ?
Enter Orlando, with his sword drawn.
Or/. Forbear, and eat no more.
Jag. Why, I have eat none yet.
Or/. Nor shalt not, till necessity be served.
Jaq. Of what kind should this cock come of ? 00
Duke S. Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy distress ?
Or else a rude despiser of good manners,
That in civility thou seem'st so empty ?
Or/. You touch'd my vein at first : the thorny point
Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show
Of smooth civility : yet am I inland bred
And know some nurture. But forbear, I say :
He dies that touches any of this fruit
Till I and my affairs are answered.
Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason, I 100
must die.
Act II. Sc. vii. AS YOU LIKE IT
Duke S. What would you have ? Your gentleness shall
force,
More than your force move us to gentleness.
Or/. I almost die for food ; and let me have it.
Duke S. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table.
Or/. Speak you so gently ? Pardon me, I pray you :
I thought that all things had been savage here ;
And therefore put I on the countenance
Of stern commandment. But whate'er you are
That in this desert inaccessible, 1 10
Under the shade of melancholy boughs,
Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time ;
If ever you have look'd on better days,
If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church,
If ever sat at any good man's feast,
If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear
And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied,
Let gentleness my strong enforcement be :
In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword.
Duke S. True is it that we have seen better days, 120
And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church,
And sat at good men's feasts, and wiped our eyes
Of drops that sacred pity hath engender'd :
And therefore sit you down in gentleness
And take upon command what help we have
That to your wanting may be minister'd.
Or/. Then but forbear your food a little while,
Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn
And give it food. There is an old poor man,
Who after me hath many a weary step 130
Limp'd in pure love : till he be first sufficed,
Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger,
AS YOU LIKE IT Act II. Sc. vii.
I will not touch a bit.
Duke S. Go find him out,
And we will nothing waste till you return.
Or/. I thank ye ; and be blest for your good comfort !
[Exit.
Duke S. Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy :
This wide and universal theatre
Presents more woeful pageants than the scene
Wherein we play in.
Jaq. All the world 's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players : 140
They have their exits and their entrances ;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eye-brow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, 150
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances ;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide 160
For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice,
Act II. Sc. vii. AS YOU LIKE IT
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing.
Re-enter Orlando, ivith Adam.
Duke S. Welcome. Set down your venerable burthen,
And let him feed.
Or/. I thank you most for him.
Adam. So had you need :
I scarce can speak to thank you for myself. 170
Duke S. Welcome ; fall to : I will not trouble you
As yet, to question you about your fortunes.
Give us some music ; and, good cousin, sing.
Song.
Ami. Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude ;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude. 179
Heigh-ho ! sing, heigh-ho ! unto the green holly :
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly :
Then, heigh-ho, the holly !
This life is most jolly.
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That dost not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot :
AS YOU LIKE IT Act III. Sc. i.
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As friend remember'd not.
Heigh-ho ! sing, &c. 190
Duke S. If that you were the good Sir Rowland's son,
As you have whisper'd faithfully you were,
And as mine eye doth his effigies witness
Most truly limn'd and living in your face,
Be truly welcome hither : I am the Duke
That loved your father : the residue of your fortune,
Go to my cave and tell me. Good old man,
Thou art right welcome as thy master is.
Support him by the arm. Give me your hand, 199
And let me all your fortunes understand. [Exeunt.
ACT THIRD.
Scene I.
A room in the palace.
Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, and Oliver.
Duke F. Not see him since ? Sir, sir, that cannot be :
But were I not the better part made mercy,
I should not seek an absent argument
Of my revenge, thou present. But look to it :
Find out thy brother, wheresoe'er he is ;
Seek him with candle ; bring him dead or living
Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more
To seek a living in our territory.
Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine
Worth seizure do we seize into our hands, 10
Act III. Sc. ii. AS YOU LIKE IT
Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth
Of what we think against thee.
Oli. O that your Highness knew my heart in this !
I never loved my brother in my life.
Duke F. More villain thou. Well, push him out of doors ;
And let my officers of such a nature
Make an extent upon his house and lands :
Do this expediently and turn him going. [Exeunt.
Scene II.
The forest.
Enter Orlando, with a paper.
Or/. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love :
And thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, survey
With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above,
Thy huntress' name that my full life doth sway.
0 Rosalind ! these trees shall be my books
And in their barks my thoughts I'll character;
That every eye which in this forest looks
Shall see thy virtue witness'd every where.
Run, run, Orlando ; carve on every tree
The fair, the chaste and unexpressive she. [Exit. To
Enter Corin and Touchstone.
Cor. And how like you this shepherd's life, Master
Touchstone ?
Touch. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a
good life ; but in respect that it is a shepherd's
life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary,
1 like it very well ; but in respect that it is
private, it is a very vile life. Now, in respect
AS YOU LIKE IT Act III. Sc. ii.
it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well ; but in
respect it is not in the court, it is tedious. As
it is a spare life, look you, it fits my humour 20
well ; but as there is no more plenty in it,
it goes much against my stomach. Hast any
philosophy in thee, shepherd ?
Cor. No more but that I know the more one sickens
the worse at ease he is ; and that he that wants
money, means and content is without three good
friends ; that the property of rain is to wet and
fire to burn ; that good pasture makes fat sheep,
and that a great cause of the night is lack of the
sun ; that he that hath learned no wit by nature 20
nor art may complain of good breeding or comes
of a very dull kindred.
Touch. Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast
ever in court, shepherd ?
Cor. No, truly.
Touch. Then thou art damned.
Cor. Nay, I hope.
Touch. Truly, thou art damned, like an ill-roasted egg
all on one side.
Cor. For not being at court ? Your reason. 40
Touch. Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never
sawest good manners ; if thou never sawest good
manners then thy manners must be wicked ; and
wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation. Thou
art in a parlous state, shepherd.
Cor. Not a whit, Touchstone : those that are good
manners at the court are as ridiculous in the
country as the behaviour of the country is most
mockable at the court. You told me you salute
Act III. Sc. ii. AS YOU LIKE IT
not at the court, but you kiss your hands : that 5°
courtesy would be uncleanly, if courtiers were
shepherds.
Touch. Instance, briefly ; come, instance.
Cor. Why, we are still handling our ewes, and their
fells, you know, are greasy.
Touch. Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat ? and
is not the grease of a mutton as wholesome as
the sweat of a man ? Shallow, shallow. A
better instance, I say ; come.
Cor. Besides, our hands are hard. 60
Touch. Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow
again. A more sounder instance, come.
Cor. And they are often tarred over with the surgery
of our sheep ; and would you have us kiss tar ?
The courtier's hands are perfumed with civet.
Touch. Most shallow man ! thou worm's-meat, in
respect of a good piece of flesh indeed ! Learn
of the wise, and perpend : civet is of a baser
birth than tar, the very uncleanly flux of a cat.
Mend the instance, shepherd. 7°
Cor. You have too courtly a wit for me : I '11 rest.
Touch. Wilt thou rest damned ? God help thee,
shallow man ! God make incision in thee !
thou art raw.
Cor. Sir, I am a true labourer : I earn that I eat, get
that I wear, owe no man hate, envy no man's
happiness, glad of other men's good, content
with my harm, and the greatest of my pride is
to see my ewes graze and my lambs suck.
Touch. That is another simple sin in you, to bring 80
the ewes and the rams together, and to offer to
AS YOU LIKE IT Act III. Sc. ii.
get your living by the copulation of cattle ; to
be bawd to a bell-wether, and to betray a she-
lamb of a twelvemonth to a crooked-pated, old,
cuckoldly ram, out of all reasonable match. If
thou beest not damned for this, the devil himself
will have no shepherds ; I cannot see else how
thou shouldst 'scape.
Cor. Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new
mistress's brother. 90
Enter Rosalind, with a paper, reading.
Ros. From the east to western Ind,
No jewel is like Rosalind.
Her worth, being mounted on the wind,
Through all the world bears Rosalind.
All the pictures fairest lined
Are but black to Rosalind.
Let no face be kept in mind
But the fair of Rosalind.
Touch. I '11 rhyme you so eight years together, dinners
and suppers and sleeping-hours excepted : it is 100
the right butter-women's rank to market.
Ros. Out, fool !
Touch. For a taste : —
If a hart do lack a hind,
Let him seek out Rosalind.
If the cat will after kind,
So be sure will Rosalind.
Winter garments must be lined,
So must slender Rosalind.
Act III. Sc. ii. AS YOU LIKE IT
They that reap must sheaf and bind ; I lo
Then to cart with Rosalind.
Sweetest nut hath sourest rind,
Such a nut is Rosalind.
He that sweetest rose will find,
Must find love's prick and Rosalind.
This is the very false gallop of verses : why do
you infect yourself with them ?
Ros. Peace, you dull fool ! I found them on a tree.
Touch. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.
Ros. I'll grafF it with you, and then I shall grafF it 1 20
with a medlar : then it will be the earliest fruit i'
the country j for you '11 be rotten ere you be half
ripe, and that 's the right virtue of the medlar.
Touch. You have said ; but whether wisely or no, let
the forest judge.
Enter Celia, ivith a lurititig.
Ros. Peace !
Here comes my sister, reading : stand aside.
Cel. [reads'] Why should this a desert be ?
For it is unpeopled ? No ;
Tongues I '11 hang on every tree, 130
That shall civil sayings show :
Some, how brief the life of man
Runs his erring pilgrimage,
That the stretching of a span
Buckles in his sum of age ;
Some, of violated vows
'Twixt the souls of friend and friend :
But upon the fairest boughs,
Or at every sentence end,
AS YOU LIKE IT Act III. Sc. ii
Will I Rosalinda write, 140
Teaching all that read to know
The quintessence of every sprite
Heaven would in little show.
Therefore Heaven Nature charged
That one body should be fill'd
With all graces wide-enlarged :
Nature presently distill'd
Helen's cheek, but not her heart,
Cleopatra's majesty,
Atalanta's better part, 150
Sad Lucretia's modesty.
Thus Rosalind of many parts
By heavenly synod was devised ;
Of many faces, eyes and hearts,
To have the touches dearest prized.
Heaven would that she these gifts should have,
And I to live and die her slave.
Ros. O most gentle pulpiter ! what tedious homily
of love have you wearied your parishioners
withal, and never cried 'Have patience, good 1 60
people ' !
Cel. How now ! back, friends ! Shepherd, go off a
little. Go with him, sirrah.
Touch. Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable
retreat ; though not with bag and baggage,
yet with scrip and scrippage.
[Exeunt Corin and Touchstone.
Cel. Didst thou hear these verses ?
Ros. O, yes, I heard them all, and more too ; for
some of them had in them more feet than the
verses would bear. 170
Act III. Sc. ii. AS YOU LIKE IT
Cel. That 's no matter : the feet might bear the
verses.
Ros. Ay, but the feet were lame and could not bear
themselves without the verse and therefore stood
lamely in the verse.
Cel. But didst thou hear without wondering how
thy name should be hanged and carved upon
these trees ?
Ros. I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder
before you came; for look here what I found 180
on a palm tree. I was never so be-rhymed since
Pythagoras' time, that I was an Irish rat, which
I can hardly remember.
Cel. Trow you who hath done this ?
Ros. Is it a man ?
Cel. And a chain, that you once wore, about his
neck. Change you colour ?
Ros. I prithee, who ?
Cel. O Lord, Lord ! it is a hard matter for friends
to meet; but mountains may be removed with 190
earthquakes and so encounter.
Ros. Nay, but who is it ?
Cel. Is it possible ?
Ros. Nay, I prithee now with most petitionary
vehemence, tell me who it is.
Cel. O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful
wonderful ! and yet again wonderful, and after
that, out of all hooping !
Ros. Good my complexion ! dost thou think, though
I am caparisoned like a man, I have a doublet 200
and hose in my disposition ? One inch of
delay more is a South-sea of discovery ; I
AS YOU LIKE IT Act III. Sc. ii.
prithee, tell me who is it quickly, and speak
apace. I would thou couldst stammer, that
thou might'st pour this concealed man out of
thy mouth, as wine comes out of a narrow-
mouthed bottle, either too much at once, or
none at all. I prithee, take the cork out of thy
mouth that I may drink thy tidings.
Cel. So you may put a man in your belly. 210
Ros. Is he of God's making ? What manner of
man ? Is his head worth a hat ? Or his chin
worth a beard ?
Cel. Nay, he hath but a little beard.
Ros. Why, God will send more, if the man will be
thankful : let me stay the growth of his beard,
if thou delay me not the knowledge of his
chin.
Cel. It is young Orlando, that tripped up the wrestler's
heels and your heart both in an instant. 220
Ros. Nay, but the devil take mocking : speak sad
brow and true maid.
Cel. V faith, coz, 'tis he.
Ros. Orlando?
Cel. Orlando.
Ros. Alas the day ! what shall I do with my doublet
and hose ? What did he when thou sawest
him ? What said he ? How looked he ?
Wherein went he ? What makes he here ? Did
he ask for me ? Where remains he ? How parted 230
he with thee ? and when shalt thou see him
again ? Answer me in one word.
Cel. You must borrow me Gargantua's mouth first :
'tis a word too great for any mouth of this age's
3 L
Act III. Sc. ii. AS YOU LIKE IT
size. To say ay and no to these particulars is
more than to answer in a catechism.
Ros. But doth he know that I am in this forest and
in man's apparel ? Looks he as freshly as he
did the day he wrestled ?
Cel. It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the 240
propositions of a lover ; but take a taste of my
finding him, and relish it with good observance.
I found him under a tree, like a dropped acorn.
Ros. It may well be called Jove's tree, when it
drops forth such fruit.
Cel. Give me audience, good madam.
Ros. Proceed.
Cel. There lay he, stretched along, like a wounded
knight.
Ros. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well 250
becomes the ground.
Cel. Cry 'holla' to thy tongue, I prithee; it curvets
unseasonably. He was furnished like a hunter.
Ros. O, ominous ! he comes to kill my heart.
Cel. I would sing my song without a burden : thou
bringest me out of tune.
Ros. Do you not know I am a woman ? when I
think, I must speak. Sweet, say on.
Cel. You bring me out. Soft ! comes he not
here ? 260
Enter Orlando ami Jaques.
Ros. 'Tis he: slink by, and note him.
Jaq. I thank you for your company ; but, good
faith, I had as lief have been myself alone.
Orl. And so had I ; but yet, for fashion sake,
I thank you too for your society.
AS YOU LIKE IT Act III. Sc. ii.
Jaq. God buy you : let 's meet as little as we
can.
Or/. I do desire we may be better strangers.
Jaq. I pray you, mar no more trees with writing
love-songs in their barks. 270
Or/. I pray you, mar no moe of my verses with
reading them ill-favouredly.
Jaq. Rosalind is your love's name ?
Or/. Yes, just.
Jaq. I do not like her name.
Or/. There was no thought of pleasing you when she
was christened.
Jaq. What stature is she of ?
Or/. Just as high as my heart.
Jaq. You are full of pretty answers. Have you not 280
been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and
conned them out of rings ?
Or/. Not so ; but I answer you right painted cloth,
from whence you have studied your questions.
Jaq. You have a nimble wit : I think 'twas made
of Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down with me ?
and we two will rail against our mistress the
world, and all our misery.
Or/. I will chide no breather in the world but
myself, against whom I know most faults. 290
Jaq. The worst fault you have is to be in love.
Or/. 'Tis a fault I will not change for your best
virtue. I am weary of you.
Jaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I
found you.
Or/. He is drowned in the brook : look but in, and
you shall see him.
Act III. Sc. ii. AS YOU LIKE IT
Jaq. There I shall see mine own figure.
Or/. Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher.
Jaq. I '11 tarry no longer with you : farewell, good 300
Signior Love.
Or/. I am glad of your departure: adieu, good
Monsieur Melancholy. [Exit Jaques.
Ros. [Aside to Ce/ia] I will speak to him like a
saucy lackey, and under that habit play the
knave with him. Do you hear, forester ?
Or/. Very well : what would you ?
Ros. I pray you, what is 't o'clock ?
Or/. You should ask me what time o' day : there 's
no clock in the forest. 310
Ros. Then there is no true lover in the forest ; else
sighing every minute and groaning every hour
would detect the lazy foot of Time as well as
a clock.
Or/. And why not the swift foot of Time ? had not
that been as proper ?
Ros. By no means, sir : Time travels in divers paces
with divers persons. I '11 tell you who Time
ambles withal, who Time trots withal, who
Time gallops withal and who he stands still withal. 320
Or/. I prithee, who doth he trot withal ?
Ros. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid
between the contract of her marriage and the
day it is solemnized : if the interim be but a
se'nnight, Time's pace is so hard that it seems
the length of seven year.
Or/. Who ambles Time withal ?
Ros. With a priest that lacks Latin, and a rich man
that hath not the gout ; for the one sleeps
AS YOU LIKE IT Act III. Sc. ii.
easily because he cannot study, and the other 330
lives merrily because he feels no pain ; the one
lacking the burden of lean and wasteful learning,
the other knowing no burden of heavy tedious
penury : these Time ambles withal.
Or/. Who doth he gallop withal ?
Ros. With a thief to the gallows ; for though he go
as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too
soon there.
Or/. Who stays it still withal ?
Ros. With lawyers in the vacation ; for they sleep 340
between term and term and then they perceive
not how Time moves.
Or/. Where dwell you, pretty youth ?
Ros. With this shepherdess, my sister : here in the
skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petti-
coat.
Or/. Are you native of this place ?
Ros. As the cony that you see dwell where she is
kindled.
Or/. Your accent is something finer than you could 350
purchase in so removed a dwelling.
Ros. I have been told so of many : but indeed an old
religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, who
was in his youth an inland man ; one that knew
courtship too well, for there he fell in love. I
have heard him read many lectures against it, and
I thank God I am not a woman, to be touched
with so many giddy offences as he hath generally
taxed their whole sex withal.
Or/. Can you remember any of the principal evils that 360
he laid to the charge of women ?
Act III. Sc. ii. AS YOU LIKE IT
Ros. There were none principal ; they were all like
one another as half-pence are, every one fault
seeming monstrous till his fellow-fault came to
match it.
Or/. I prithee, recount some of them.
Ros. No, I will not cast away my physic but on those
that are sick. There is a man haunts the forest,
that abuses our young plants with carving Rosa-
lind on their barks; hangs odes upon hawthorns 370
and elegies on brambles ; all, forsooth, deifying
the name of Rosalind : if I could meet that
fancy-monger, I would give him some good
counsel, for he seems to have the quotidian of
love upon him.
Or/. I am he that is so love-shaked : I pray you, tell
me your remedy.
Ros. There is none of my uncle's marks upon you :
he taught me how to know a man in love ; in
which cage of rushes I am sure you are not 380
prisoner.
Or/. What were his marks ?
Ros. A lean cheek, which you have not ; a blue eye
and sunken, which you have not ; an unques-
tionable spirit, which you have not ; a beard
neglected, which you have not ; but I pardon
you for that, for simply your having in beard
is a younger brother's revenue : then your hose
should be ungartered, your bonnet unbanded,
your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied and 390
every thing about you demonstrating a careless
desolation ; but you are no such man ; you are
rather point-device in your accoutrements, as
AS YOU LIKE IT Act III. Sc. ii.
loving yourself than seeming the lover of any
other.
Or/. Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe
I love.
Ros. Me believe it ! you may as soon make her that
you love believe it ; which, I warrant, she is
apter to do than to confess she does : that is one 400
of the points in the which women still give the
lie to their consciences. But, in good sooth, are
you he that hangs the verses on the trees, where-
in Rosalind is so admired ?
Or/. I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of
Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he.
Ros. But are you so much in love as your rhymes
speak ?
Or/. Neither rhyme nor reason can express how
much. 410
Ros. Love is merely a madness; and, I tell you,
deserves as well a dark house and a whip as
madmen do : and the reason why they are not
so punished and cured is, that the lunacy is so
ordinary that the whippers are in love too. Yet
I profess curing it by counsel.
Or/. Did you ever cure any so ?
Ros. Yes, one, and in this manner. He was to
imagine me his love, his mistress ; and I set
him every day to woo me : at which time would 420
I, being but a moonish youth, grieve, be effemi-
nate, changeable, longing and liking ; proud,
fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, full of
tears, full of smiles ; for every passion some-
thing and for no passion truly any thing, as
Act III. Sc. iii. AS YOU LIKE IT
boys and women are for the most part cattle of
this colour : would now like him, now loathe
him ; then entertain him, then forswear him ;
now weep for him, then spit at him ; that I
drave my suitor from his mad humour of love 430
to a living humour of madness ; which was, to
forswear the full stream of the world and to live
in a nook merely monastic. And thus I cured
him ; and this way will I take upon me to wash
your liver as clean as a sound sheep's heart, that
there shall not be one spot of love in 't.
Orl. I would not be cured, youth.
Ros. I would cure you, if you would but call me
Rosalind and come every day to my cote and
woo me. 440
Orl. Now, by the faith of my love, I will : tell me
where it is.
Ros. Go with me to it and I '11 show it you : and by
the way you shall tell me where in the forest you
live. Will you go ?
Orl. With all my heart, good youth.
Ros. Nay, you must call me Rosalind. Come, sister,
will you go ? [Exeunt.
Scene III.
The forest.
Enter Touchstone and Audrey ; Jaques behind.
Touch. Come apace, good Audrey : I will fetch up
your goats, Audrey. And how, Audrey ? am
I the man yet ? doth my simple feature content
you ?
AS YOU LIKE IT Act III. Sc. iii.
Aud. Your features ! Lord warrant us ! what
features ?
Touch. I am here with thee and thy goats, as the
most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among
the Goths.
Jaq. [Aside] O knowledge ill-inhabited, worse than io
Jove in a thatched house !
Touch. When a man's verses cannot be understood,
nor a man's good wit seconded with the forward
child, understanding, it strikes a man more dead
than a great reckoning in a little room. Truly,
I would the gods had made thee poetical.
Aud. I do not know what ' poetical ' is : is it honest
in deed and word ? is it a true thing ?
Touch. No, truly ; for the truest poetry is the most
feigning ; and lovers are given to poetry, and 20
what they swear in poetry may be said as
lovers they do feign.
Aud. Do you wish then that the gods had made me
poetical ?
Touch. I do, truly ; for thou swearest to me thou art
honest : now, if thou wert a poet, I might have
some hope thou didst feign.
Aud. Would you not have me honest ?
Touch. No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favoured ;
for honesty coupled to beauty is to have honey 20
a sauce to sugar.
Jaq. [Aside] A material fool !
Aud. Well, I am not fair ; and therefore I pray the
gods make me honest.
Touch. Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul
slut were to put good meat into an unclean dish.
Act III. Sc. iii. AS YOU LIKE IT
Aud. I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am
foul.
Touch. Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness !
sluttishness may come hereafter. But be it as it 40
may be, I will marry thee, and to that end I
have been with Sir Oliver Martext the vicar of
the next village, who hath promised to meet me
in this place of the forest and to couple us.
Jaq. [Aside] I would fain see this meeting.
And. Well, the gods give us joy !
Touch. Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful
heart, stagger in this attempt ; for here we have
no temple but the wood, no assembly but horn-
beasts. But what though ? Courage ! As horns 50
are odious, they are necessary. It is said, ' many
a man knows no end of his goods : ' right ; many
a man has good horns, and knows no end of them.
Well, that is the dowry of his wife ; 'tis none
of his own getting. Horns ? — even so : — poor
men alone ? No, no ; the noblest deer hath
them as huge as the rascal. Is the single man
therefore blessed ? No : as a walled town is
more worthier than a village, so is the forehead
of a married man more honourable than the bare 60
brow of a bachelor ; and by how much defence
is better than no skill, by so much is a horn more
precious than to want. Here comes Sir Oliver.
Enter Sir Oliver Martext.
Sir Oliver Martext, you are well met : will you
dispatch us here under this tree, or shall we go
with you to your chapel ?
AS YOU LIKE IT Act III. Sc. iii.
Sir Oli. Is there none here to give the woman ?
Touch. I will not take her on gift of any man.
Sir Oli. Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is
not lawful. 7°
Jaq. Proceed, proceed : I '11 give her.
Touch. Good even, good Master What - ye - call 't :
how do you, sir ? You are very well met : God
'ild you for your last company : I am very glad
to see you : even a toy in hand here, sir : nay,
pray be covered.
Jaq. Will you be married, motley ?
Touch. As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse his
curb and the falcon her bells, so man hath his
desires ; and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would 8q
be nibbling.
Jaq. And will you, being a man of your breed-
ing, be married under a bush like a beggar ?
Get you to church, and have a good priest
that can tell you what marriage is : this
fellow will but join you together as they
join wainscot ; then one of you will prove a
shrunk panel, and like green timber warp,
warp.
Touch. \_Aside~\ I am not in the mind but I were 90
better to be married of him than of another : for
he is not like to marry me well ; and not being
well married, it will be a good excuse for me
hereafter to leave my wife.
Jaq. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee.
Touch. Come, sweet Audrey :
We must be married, or we must live in bawdry.
Farewell, good Master Oliver : not, —
Act III. Sc. iv. AS YOU LIKE IT
O sweet Oliver,
O brave Oliver, loo
Leave me not behind thee :
but, —
Wind away,
Begone, I say,
I will not to wedding with thee.
[Exeunt Jaques, Touchstone, and Audrey.
Sir OIL 'Tis no matter : ne'er a fantastical knave of
them all shall flout me out of my calling. [Exit.
Scene IV.
The forest.
Enter Rosalind and Celia.
Ros. Never talk tome; I will weep.
Cel. Do, I prithee ; but yet have the grace to consider
that tears do not become a man.
Ros. But have I not cause to weep ?
Cel. As good cause as one would desire ; therefore
weep.
Ros. His very hair is of the dissembling colour.
Cel. Something browner than Judas's : marry, his
kisses are Judas's own children.
Ros. V faith, his hair is of a good colour. IO
Cel. An excellent colour : your chestnut was ever the
only colour.
Ros. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch
of holy bread.
Cel. He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana :
a nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more
religiously ; the very ice of chastity is in them.
AS YOU LIKE IT Act III. Sc. iv.
Ros. But why did he swear he would come this
morning, and comes not ?
Cel. Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him. 20
Ros. Do you think so I
Cel. Yes ; I think he is not a pick-purse nor a horse-
stealer ; but for his verity in love, I do think
him as concave as a covered goblet or a worm-
eaten nut.
Ros. Not true in love ?
Cel. Yes, when he is in ; but I think he is not in.
Ros. You have heard him swear downright he was.
Cel. ' Was ' is not ' is ' : besides, the oath of a lover
is no stronger than the word of a tapster; they 20
are both the confirmer of false reckonings. He
attends here in the forest on the Duke your
father.
Ros. I met the Duke yesterday and had much question
with him : he asked me of what parentage I was;
I told him, of as good as he ; so he laughed and
let me go. But what talk we of fathers, when
there is such a man as Orlando ?
Cel. O, that 's a brave man ! he writes brave verses,
speaks brave words, swears brave oaths and 40
breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the
heart of his lover ; as a puisny tilter, that spurs
his horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a
noble goose: but all's brave that youth mounts
and folly guides. Who comes here ?
Enter Covin.
Cor. Mistress and master, you have oft inquired
After the shepherd that complain'd of love,
Act III. Sc. v. AS YOU LIKE IT
Who you saw sitting by me on the turf,
Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess
That was his mistress.
Cel. Well, and what of him ? 50
Cor. If you will see a pageant truly play'd,
Between the pale complexion of true love
And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain,
Go hence a little and I shall conduct you,
If you will mark it.
Ros. O, come, let us remove :
The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.
Bring us to this sight, and you shall say
1 '11 prove a busy actor in their play. [Exeunt.
Scene /.
Another part of the forest.
Enter Si/vius and Phebe.
Si/. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me ; do not, Phebe ;
Say that you love me not, but say not so
In bitterness. The common executioner,
Whose heart the accustom'd sight of death makes hard,
Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck
But first begs pardon : will you sterner be
Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops.
Enter Rosalind, Celia, a?id Corin, behind.
Phe. I would not be thy executioner :
I fly thee, for I would not injure thee.
Thou tell'st me there is murder in mine eye : 10
'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable,
That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things,
AS YOU LIKE IT Act III. Sc. v.
Who shut their coward gates on atomies,
Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers !
Now I do frown on thee with all my heart ;
And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee :
Now counterfeit to swoon ; why now fall down ;
Or if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame,
Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers !
Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee : 20
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains
Some scar of it ; lean but upon a rush,
The cicatrice and capable impressure
Thy palm some moment keeps ; but now mine eyes,
Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not,
Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes
That can do hurt.
Sil. O dear Phebe,
If ever, — as that ever may be near, —
You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy,
Then shall you know the wounds invisible 20
That love's keen arrows make.
Phe. But till that time
Come not thou near me : and when that time comes,
AfHict me with thy mocks, pity me not ;
As till that time I shall not pity thee.
Ros. And why, I pray you ? Who might be your mother,
That you insult, exult, and all at once,
Over the wretched ? What though you have no
beauty, —
As, by my faith, I see no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed, —
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless ? 40
Why, what means this ? Why do you look on me ?
Act III. Sc. v. AS YOU LIKE IT
I see no more in you than in the ordinary
Of nature's sale-work. 'Od's my little life,
I think, she means to tangle my eyes too !
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it :
'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.
You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her,
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain ? 50
You are a thousand times a properer man
Than she a woman : 'tis such fools as you
That makes the world full of ill-favour'd children :
'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her •,
And out of you she sees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can show her.
But, mistress, know yourself: down on your knees,
And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love :
For I must tell you friendly in your ear,
Sell when you can : you are not for all markets : 60
Cry the man mercy ; love him ; take his offer :
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.
So take her to thee, shepherd : fare you well.
Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year together :
I had rather hear you chide than this man woo.
Ros. He 's fallen in love with your foulness and
she'll fall in love with my anger. If it be so,
as fast as she answers thee with frowning looks,
I '11 sauce her with bitter words. Why look
you so upon me ? 7°
Phe. For no ill will I bear you.
Ros. I pray you, do not fall in love with me,
For I am falser than vows made in wine :
AS YOU LIKE IT Act IH- Sc- v-
Besides, I like you not. If you will know my house,
'Tis at the tuft of olives here hard by.
Will you go, sister ? Shepherd, ply her hard.
Come, sister. Shepherdess, look on him better,
And be not proud : though all the world could see,
None could be so abused in sight as he.
Come, to our flock. [Exeunt Rosalind, Celt a and Corin.
Phe. Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might, 8 1
' Who ever loved that loved not at first sight ? '
5/7. Sweet Phebe, —
Phe. Ha, what say'st thou, Silvius ?
5/7. Sweet Phebe, pity me.
Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius.
5/7. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be :
If you do sorrow at my grief in love,
By giving love your sorrow and my grief
Were both extermined.
Phe. Thou hast my love : is not that neighbourly ? 90
5/7. I would have you.
Phe. Why, that were covetousness.
Silvius, the time was that I hated thee,
And yet it is not that I bear thee love ;
But since that thou canst talk of love so well,
Thy company, which erst was irksome to me,
I will endure, and I'll employ thee too:
But do not look for further recompense
Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd.
S/7. So holy and so perfect is my love,
And I in such a poverty of grace, 1 00
That I shall think it a most plenteous crop
To glean the broken ears after the man
That the main harvest reaps : loose now and then
3 M
Act III. Sc. v. AS YOU LIKE IT
A scattcr'd smile, and that I '11 live upon.
Phe. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me erewhile ?
5/7. Not very well, but I have met him oft j
And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds
That the old carlot once was master of.
Phe. Think, not I love him, though I ask for him ;
'Tis but a peevish boy ; yet he talks well ; no
But what care I for words ? yet words do well
When he that speaks them pleases those that hear.
It is a pretty youth : not very pretty :
But, sure, he's proud, and yet his pride becomes him :
He'll make a proper man : the best thing in him
Is his complexion ; and faster than his tongue
Did make offence his eye did heal it up.
He is not very tall ; yet for his years he 's tall :
His leg is but so so ; and yet 'tis well :
There was a pretty redness in his lip, 120
A little riper and more lusty red
Than that mix'd in his cheek ; 'twas just the difference
Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask.
There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd him
In parcels as I did, would have gone near
To fall in love with him : but, for my part,
I love him not nor hate him not ; and yet
I have more cause to hate him than to love him :
For what had he to do to chide at me ?
He said mine eyes were black and my hair black ; 130
And, now I am remember'd, scorn'd at me :
I marvel why I answer'd not again :
But that's all one; omittance is no quittance.
I'll write to him a very taunting letter,
And thou shalt bear it : wilt thou, Silvius ?
AS YOU LIKE IT Act IV- Sc. i.
Si/. Phebe, with all my heart.
Phe. I '11 write it straight ;
The matter 's in my head and in my heart :
I will be bitter with him and passing short.
Go with me, Silvius. [Exeunt
ACT FOURTH.
Scene I.
The forest.
Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Jaqiees.
Jaq. I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better
acquainted with thee.
Ros. They say you are a melancholy fellow.
Jaq. I am so ; I do love it better than laughing.
Ros. Those that are in extremity of either are
abominable fellows, and betray themselves to
every modern censure worse than drunkards.
Jaq. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing.
Ros. Why then, 'tis good to be a post.
Jaq. 1 have neither the scholar's melancholy, which io
is emulation ; nor the musician's, which is
fantastical ; nor the courtier's, which is proud ;
nor the soldier's, which is ambitious ; nor the
lawyer's, which is politic j nor the lady's, which
is nice ; nor the lover's, which is all these : but
it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of
many simples, extracted from many objects ; and
indeed the sundry contemplation of my travels,
in which my often rumination wraps me in a
most humorous sadness. 20
Act IV. Sc. i. AS yQU LIKE IT
Ros A traveller ! By my faith, you have great
reason to be sad : I fear you have sold your
own lands to see other men's ; then, to have
seen much, and to have nothing, is to have rich
eyes and poor hands.
Jaq. Yes, I have gained my experience.
Ros. And your experience makes you sad : I had
rather have a fool to make me merry than ex-
perience to make me sad; and to travel for it too !
Enter Orlando.
Or/. Good-day and happiness, dear Rosalind ! 30
Jaq. Nay, then, God buy you, an you talk in
blank verse. [Exit.
Ros. Farewell, Monsieur Traveller : look you lisp
and wear strange suits ; disable all the benefits
of your own country ; be out of love with your
nativity and almost chide God for making you
that countenance you are; or I will scarce think
you have swam in a gondola. Why, how now,
Orlando ! where have you been all this while ?
You a lover ! An you serve me such another 40
trick, never come in my sight more.
Orl. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my
promise.
Ros. Break an hour's promise in love ! He that will
divide a minute into a thousand parts, and break
but a part of the thousandth part of a minute in
the affairs of love, it may be said of him that
Cupid hath clapped him o' the shoulder, but I'll
warrant him heart-whole.
Orl. Pardon me, dear Rosalind. 5°
AS YOU LIKE IT Act IV. Sc. i.
Ros. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my
sight : I had as lief be wooed of a snail.
Or/. Of a snail ?
Ros. Ay, of a snail ; for though he come slowly, he
carries his house on his head j a better jointure,
I think, than you make a woman : besides, he
brings his destiny with him.
Or/. What 's that ?
Ros. Why, horns, which such as you are fain to be be-
holding to your wives for : but he comes armed 60
in his fortune and prevents the slander of his wife.
Or/. Virtue is no horn-maker ; and my Rosalind is
virtuous.
Ros. And I am your Rosalind.
Cel. It pleases him to call you so ; but he hath a
Rosalind of a better leer than you.
Ros. Come, woo me, woo me ; for now I am in a
holiday humour and like enough to consent.
What would you say to me now, an I were
your very very Rosalind ? 70
Or/. I would kiss before I spoke.
Ros. Nay, you were better speak first ; and when you
were gravelled for lack of matter, you might
take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when
they are out, they will spit ; and for lovers lack-
ing— God warn us ! — matter, the cleanliest shift
is to kiss.
Or/. How if the kiss be denied ?
Ros. Then she puts you to entreaty and there begins
new matter. 80
Or/. Who could be out, being before his beloved
mistress ?
Act IV. Sc. i. AS YOU LIKE IT
Ros. Marry, that should yon, if I were your mistress,
or I should think my honesty ranker than my
wit.
Or/. What, of my suit ?
Ros. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your
suit. Am not I your Rosalind ?
Or/. I take some joy to say you are, because I would
be talking of her. 90
Ros. Well, in her person, I say I will not have you.
Or/. Then in mine own person I die.
Ros. No, faith, die by attorney. The poor world is
almost six thousand years old, and in all this
time there was not any man died in his own
person, videlicet, in a love-cause. Troilus had
his brains dashed out with a Grecian club ; yet
he did what he could to die before, and he is one
of the patterns of love. Leander, he would have
lived many a fair year, though Hero had turned 100
nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer
night ; for, good youth, he went but forth to
wash him in the Hellespont and being taken with
the cramp was drowned : and the foolish chroni-
clers of that age found it was ' Hero of Sestos.'
But these are all lies : men have died from time
to time and worms have eaten them, but not for
love.
Or/. I would not have my right Rosalind of this
mind; for, I protest, her frown might kill me. Iio
Ros. By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But come,
now I will be your Rosalind in a more coming-
on disposition, and ask me what you will, I will
grant it.
AS YOU LIKE IT Act IV. Sc. i.
Orl. Then love me, Rosalind.
Ros. Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and
all.
Orl. And wilt thou have me ?
Ros. Ay, and twenty such.
Orl. What sayest thou ? 1 20
Ros. Are you not good ?
Orl. I hope so.
Ros. Why then, can one desire too much of a good
thing ? Come, sister, you shall be the priest and
marry us. Give me your hand, Orlando. What
do you say, sister ?
Orl. Pray thee, marry us.
Cel. I cannot say the words.
Ros. You must begin, ' Will you, Orlando — '
Cel. Go to. Will you, Orlando, have to wife this 130
Rosalind ?
Orl. I will.
Ros. Ay, but when?
Orl. Why now ; as fast as she can marry us.
Ros. Then you must say ' I take thee, Rosalind, for
wife.'
Orl. I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.
Ros. I might ask you for your commission ; but I
do take thee, Orlando, for my husband : there 's
a girl goes before the priest; and certainly a 140
woman's thought runs before her actions.
Orl. So do all thoughts ; they are winged.
Ros. Now tell me how long you would have her after
you have possessed her.
Orl. For ever and a day.
Ros. Say ' a day,' without the ' ever.' No, no,
Act IV. Sc. i. AS YOU LIKE IT
Orlando ; men are April when they woo,
December when they wed : maids are May
when they are maids, but the sky changes when
they are wives. I will be more jealous of thee 150
than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen, more
clamorous than a parrot against rain, more new-
fangled than an ape, more giddy in my desires
than a monkey : I will weep for nothing, like
Diana in the fountain, and I will do that when
you are disposed to be merry ; I will laugh like
a hyen, and that when thou art inclined to sleep.
Orl. But will my Rosalind do so ?
Ros. By my life, she will do as I do.
Orl. O, but she is wise. 160
Ros. Or else she could not have the wit to do this :
the wiser, the waywarder : make the doors upon
a woman's wit and it will out at the casement ;
shut that and 'twill out at the key-hole ; stop that,
'twill fly with the smoke out at the chimney.
Orl. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he
might say ' Wit, whither wilt ?'
Ros. Nay, you might keep that check for it till you met
your wife's wit going to your neighbour's bed.
Orl. And what wit could wit have to excuse that. 170
Ros. Marry, to say she came to seek you there.
You shall never take her without her answer,
unless you take her without her tongue. O,
that woman that cannot make her fault her
husband's occasion, let her never nurse her child
herself, for she will breed it like a fool !
Orl. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee.
Ros. Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours !
AS YOU LIKE IT Act IV. Sc. i.
Or/. I must attend the Duke at dinner : by two
o'clock I will be with thee again. 180
Ros. Ay, go your ways, go your ways ; I knew what
you would prove : my friends told me as much,
and I thought no less : that flattering tongue of
yours won me : 'tis but one cast away, and so,
come, death ! Two o'clock is your hour ?
Or/. Ay, sweet Rosalind.
Ros. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God
mend me, and by all pretty oaths that are not
dangerous, if you break one jot of your promise
or come one minute behind your hour, I will 190
think you the most pathetical break-promise, and
the most hollow lover, and the most unworthy
of her you call Rosalind, that may be chosen out
of the gross band of the unfaithful : therefore
beware my censure and keep your promise.
Or/. With no less religion than if thou wert indeed
my Rosalind : so adieu.
Ros. Well, Time is the old justice that examines
all such offenders, and let Time try : adieu.
Exit Orlando.
Cel. You have simply misused our sex in your love- 200
prate : we must have your doublet and hose
plucked over your head, and show the world
what the bird hath done to her own nest.
Ros. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou
didst know how many fathom deep I am in love !
But it cannot be sounded : my affection hath an
unknown bottom, like the bay of Portugal.
Cel. Or rather, bottomless ; that as fast as you pour
affection in, it runs out.
Act IV. Sc. ii. AS YOU LIKE IT
Ros. No, that same wicked bastard of Venus that 210
was begot of thought, conceived of spleen, and
born of madness, that blind rascally boy that
abuses every one's eyes because his own are out,
let him be judge how deep I am in love. I'll
tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight of
Orlando : I '11 go find a shadow and sigh till he
come.
Cel. And I'll sleep. [Exeunt.
Scene II.
The forest .
Enter Jaques, Lords, and Foresters.
Jag. Which is he that killed the deer ?
A Lord. Sir, it was I.
Jag. Let 's present him to the Duke, like a Roman
conqueror ; and it would do well to set the
deer's horns upon his head, for a branch of
victory. Have you no song, forester, for this
purpose ?
For. Yes, sir.
Jag. Sing it : 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so it
make noise enough. io
Song.
For. What shall he have that kill'd the deer?
His leather skin and horns to wear.
Then sing him home :
[The rest shall bear this burden.
AS YOU LIKE IT Act IV. Sc. iii.
Take thou no scorn to wear the horn ;
It was a crest ere thou wast born :
Thy father's father wore it,
And thy father bore it :
The horn, the horn, the lusty horn
Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. [Exeunt.
Scene III.
The forest.
Enter Rosalind and Celia.
Ros. How say you now ? Is it not past two o'clock ?
and here much Orlando !
Cel. I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain,
he hath ta'en his bow and arrows and is gone
forth to sleep. Look, who comes here.
Enter Silvius.
Si/. My errand is to you, fair youth ;
My gentle Phebe bid me give you this :
I know not the contents ; but, as I guess
By the stern brow and waspish action
Which she did use as she was writing of it, 10
It bears an angry tenour : pardon me ;
I am but as a guiltless messenger.
Ros. Patience herself would startle at this letter
And play the swaggerer ; bear this, bear all :
She says I am not fair, that I lack manners ;
She calls me proud, and that she could not love me,
Were man as rare as phcenix. 'Od 's my will !
Her love is not the hare that I do hunt :
Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well,
Act IV. Sc. iii. AS YOU LIKE IT
This is a letter of your own device. 20
5/7. No, I protest, I know not the contents :
Phebe did write it.
Ros. Come, come, you are a fool,
And turn'd into the extremity of love.
I saw her hand : she has a leathern hand,
A freestone-colour'd hand ; I verily did think
That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands :
She has a huswife's hand ; but that 's no matter :
I say she never did invent this letter ;
This is a man's invention and his hand.
5/7. Sure, it is hers. go
Ros. Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style,
A style for challengers ; why, she defies me,
Like Turk to Christian : women's gentle brain
Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention,
Such Ethiope words, blacker in their effect
Than in their countenance. Will you hear the letter ?
5/7. So please you, for I never heard it yet ;
Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty.
Ros. She Phebes me : mark how the tyrant writes.
[Reads] Art thou god to shepherd turn'd, 40
That a maiden's heart hath burn'd ?
Can a woman rail thus ?
5/7. Call you this railing ?
Ros. [reads]
Why, thy godhead laid apart,
Warr'st thou with a woman's heart ?
Did you ever hear such railing ?
Whiles the eye of man did woo me,
That could do no vengeance to me.
Meaning me a beast.
AS YOU LIKE IT Act IV- Sc- *"•
If the scorn of your bright eyne 50
Have power to raise such love in mine,
Alack, in me what strange effect
Would they work in mild aspect !
Whiles you chide me, I did love ;
How then might your prayers move !
He that brings this love to thee
Little knows this love in me :
And by him seal up thy mind ;
Whether that thy youth and kind
Will the faithful offer take 60
Of me and all that I can make ;
Or else by him my love deny,
And then I '11 study how to die.
Si/. Call you this chiding ?
Cel. Alas, poor shepherd !
Ros. Do you pity him ? no, he deserves no pity.
Wilt thou love such a woman ? What, to make
thee an instrument and play false strains upon
thee ! not to be endured ! Well, go your way
to her, for I see love hath made thee a tame 70
snake, and say this to her : that if she love me, I
charge her to love thee ; if she will not, I will
never have her unless thou entreat for her. If
you be a true lover, hence, and not a word ; for
here comes more company. [Exit Silvius.
Enter Oliver.
OH. Good morrow, fair ones : pray you, if you know,
Where in the purlieus of this forest stands
A sheep-cote fenced about with olive-trees ?
Cel. West of this place, down in the neighbour bottom :
Act IV. Sc. iii. AS YOU LIKE IT
The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream 80
Left on your right hand brings you to the place.
But at this hour the house doth keep itself;
There's none within.
OIL If that an eye may profit by a tongue,
Then should I know you by description ;
Such garments and such years : ' The boy is fair,
Of female favour, and bestows himself
Like a ripe sister : the woman low,
And browner than her brother.' Are not you
The owner of the house I did enquire for ? 90
Cel. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say we are.
OU. Orlando doth commend him to you both,
And to that youth he calls his Rosalind
Hs sends this bloody napkin. Are you he ?
Ros. I am : what must we understand by this ?
Oli. Some of my shame ; if you will know of me
What man I am, and how, and why, and where
This handkcrcher was stain'd.
Cel. I pray you, tell it.
Oli. When last the young Orlando parted from you
He left a promise to return again loo
Within an hour, and pacing through the forest,
Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy,
Lo, what befel ! he threw his eye aside,
And mark what object did present itself:
Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age
And high top bald with dry antiquity,
A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair,
Lay sleeping on his back : about his neck
A green and gilded snake had wreathed itself,
Who with her head nimble in threats approach'd -Iio
AS YOU LIKE IT Act IV. Sc. iii.
The opening of his mouth ; but suddenly,
Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself,
And with indented glides did slip away
Into a bush: under which bush's shade
A lioness, with udders all drawn dry,
Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch,
When that the sleeping man should stir ; for 'tis
The royal disposition of that beast
To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead :
This seen, Orlando did approach the man 120
And found it was his brother, his elder brother.
Cel. O, I have heard him speak of that same brother ;
And he did render him the most unnatural
That lived amongst men.
OIL And well he might so do,
For well I know he was unnatural.
Ros. But, to Orlando : did he leave him there,
Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness ?
OH. Twice did he turn his back and purposed so ;
But kindness, nobler ever than revenge,
And nature, stronger than his just occasion, 1 30
Made him give battle to the lioness,
Who quickly fell before him : in which hurtling
From miserable slumber I awaked.
Cel. Are you his brother ?
Ros. Was 't you he rescued ?
Cel. Was 't you that did so oft contrive to kill him ?
OIL 'Twas I ; but 'tis not I : I do not shame
To tell you what I was, since my conversion
So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am.
Ros. But, for the bloody napkin ?
OIL By and by.
Act IV. Sc. iii. AS YOU LIKE IT
When from the first to last betwixt us two 140
Tears our recoupments had most kindly bathed,
As how I came into that desert place ;
In brief, he led me to the gentle Duke,
Who gave me fresh array and entertainment,
Committing me unto my brother's love ;
Who led me instantly unto his cave,
There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm
The lioness had torn some flesh away,
Which all this while had bled ; and now he fainted
And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind. 150
Brief, I recover'd him, bound up his wound ;
And, after some small space, being strong at heart,
He sent me hither, stranger as I am,
To tell this story, that you might excuse
His broken promise, and to give this napkin,
Dyed in his blood, unto the shepherd youth
That he in sport doth call his Rosalind.
[Rosalind swoons.
Cel. Why, how now, Ganymede ! sweet Ganymede !
Oli. Many will swoon when they do look on blood.
Cel. There is more in it. Cousin Ganymede ! 160
Oli. Look, he recovers.
Ros. I would I were at home.
Cel. We '11 lead you thither.
I pray you, will you take him by the arm ?
Oli. Be of good cheer, youth : you a man ! you lack
a man's heart.
Ros. I do so, I confess it. Ah, sirrah, a body
would think this was well counterfeited ! I
pray you, tell your brother how well I counter-
feited. Heigh-ho !
AS YOU LIKE IT Act V. Sc. i.
Oli. This was not counterfeit: there is too great 170
testimony in your complexion that it was a
passion of earnest.
Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you.
Oli. Well then, take a good heart and counterfeit to
be a man.
Ros. So I do : but, i' faith, I should have been a
woman by right.
Cel. Come, you look paler and paler : pray you,
draw homewards. Good sir, go with us.
Oli. That will I, for I must bear answer back 180
How you excuse my brother, Rosalind.
Ros. I shall devise something : but, I pray you, com-
mend my counterfeiting to him. Will you go ?
\_Exeunt.
ACT FIFTH.
Scene I.
The forest.
Enter Touchstone and Audrey.
Touch. We shall find a time, Audrey ; patience,
gentle Audrey.
Aud. Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the
old gentleman's saying.
Touch. A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a most
vile Martext. But, Audrey, there is a youth
here in the forest lays claim to you.
Aud. Ay, I know who 'tis : he hath no interest in me
in the world : here comes the man you mean.
Touch. It is meat and drink to me to see a clown : by 10
3 N
Act V. Sc. i. AS YOU LIKE IT
my troth, we that have good wits have much to
answer for ; we shall be flouting ; we cannot
hold.
Enter William.
Will. Good even, Audrey.
Aud. God ye good even, William.
Will. And good even to you, sir.
Touch. Good even, gentle friend. Cover thy head,
cover thy head ; nay, prithee, be covered.
How old are you, friend ?
Will. Five and twenty, sir. 20
Touch. A ripe age. Is thy name William ?
Will. William, sir.
Touch. A fair name. Wast born i' the forest here ?
Will. Ay, sir, I thank God.
Touch. ' Thank God ' ; a good answer. Art rich ?
Will. Faith, sir, so so.
Touch. 'So so' is good, very good, very excellent
good ; and yet it is not ; it is but so so. Art
thou wise ?
Will. Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit. 30
Touch. Why, thou sayest well. I do now remember
a saying, ' The fool doth think he is wise, but
the wise man knows himself to be a fool.' The
heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to eat
a grape, would open his lips when he put it into
his mouth ; meaning thereby that grapes were
made to eat and lips to open. You do love this
maid ?
Will. I do, sir.
Touch. Give me your hand. Art thou learned ? 40
Will. No, sir.
AS YOU LIKE IT Act V. Sc. i.
Touch. Then learn this of me : to have, is to have ;
for it is a figure in rhetoric that drink, being
poured out of a cup into a glass, by filling the
one doth empty the other ; for all your writers
do consent that ipse is he : now, you are not
ipse, for I am he.
Will. Which he, sir ?
Touch. He, sir, that must marry this woman. There-
fore, you clown, abandon, — which is in the 50
vulgar leave, — the society, — which in the boorish
is company, — of this female, — which in the
common is woman ; which together is, abandon
the society of this female, or, clown, thou
perishest; or, to thy better understanding, diest;
or, to wit, I kill thee, make thee away, translate
thy life into death, thy liberty into bondage: I
will deal in poison with thee, or in bastinado, or
in steel ; I will bandy with thee in faction ; I
will o'er-run thee with policy ; I will kill thee 60
a hundred and fifty ways : therefore tremble,
and depart.
And. Do, good William.
Will. God rest you merry, sir. [Exit.
Etiter Corin.
Cor. Our master and mistress seeks you ; come,
away, away !
Touch. Trip, Audrey ! trip, Audrey ! I attend, I
attend. [Exeunt.
Act V. Sc. ii. AS YOU LIKE IT
Scene II.
The forest.
Enter Orlando and Oliver.
Orl. Is 't possible that on so little acquaintance you
should like her ? that but seeing you should
love her ? and loving woo ? and, wooing, she
should grant ? and will you persever to enjoy
her?
Ol'i. Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the
poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my
sudden wooing, nor her sudden consenting ;
but say with me, I love Aliena ; say with her
that she loves me; consent with both that we 10
may enjoy each other : it shall be to your good j
for my father's house and all the revenue that
was old Sir Rowland's will I estate upon you,
and here live and die a shepherd.
Orl. You have my consent. Let your wedding be
to-morrow : thither will I invite the Duke and
all 's contented followers. Go you and pre-
pare Aliena ; for look you, here comes my
Rosalind.
Enter Rosalind.
Ros. God save you, brother. 20
OH. And you, fair sister. [Exit.
Ros. O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see
thee wear thy heart in a scarf!
Orl. It is my arm.
Ros. I thought thy heart had been wounded with
the claws of a lion.
AS YOU LIKE IT Act V. Sc. ii.
Or/. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady.
Ros. Did your brother tell you how I counter-
feited to swoon when he showed me your
handkercher ? 3°
Or/. Ay, and greater wonders than that.
Ros. O, I know where you are : nay, 'tis true : there
was never any thing so sudden but the fight of
two rams, and Caesar's thrasonical brag of ' I
came, saw, and overcame:' for your brother
and my sister no sooner met but they looked ;
no sooner looked but they loved ; no sooner
loved but they sighed ; no sooner sighed but they
asked one another the reason ; no sooner knew
the reason but they sought the remedy : and in 40
these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to
marriage which they will climb incontinent, or
else be incontinent before marriage : they are in
the very wrath of love and they will together ;
clubs cannot part them.
Or/. They shall be married to-morrow, and I will bid
the Duke to the nuptial. But, O, how bitter
a thing it is to look into happiness through an-
other man's eyes ! By so much the more shall
I to-morrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, 5°
by how much I shall think my brother happy in
having what he wishes for.
Ros. Why then, to-morrow I cannot serve your
turn for Rosalind ?
Or/. I can live no longer by thinking.
Ros. I will weary you then no longer with idle
talking. Know of me then, for now I speak to
some purpose, that I know you are a gentleman
Act V. Sc. ii. AS YOU LIKE IT
of good conceit : I speak, not this that you
should bear a good opinion of my knowledge, 60
insomuch I say I know you are ; neither do I
labour for a greater esteem than may in some
little measure draw a belief from you, to do
yourself good and not to grace me. Believe
then, if you please, that I can do strange things :
I have, since I was three year old, conversed
with a magician, most profound in his art and yet
not damnable. If you do love Rosalind so near
the heart as your gesture cries it out, when your
brother marries Aliena, shall you marry her : I 70
know into what straits of fortune she is driven ;
and it is not impossible to me, if it appear not
inconvenient to you, to set her before your eyes
to-morrow human as she is and without any
danger.
Or/. Speakest thou in sober meanings ?
Ros. By my life, I do ; which I tender dearly,
though I say I am a magician. Therefore,
put you in your best array ; bid your friends ; for
if you will be married to-morrow, you shall ; 80
and to Rosalind, if you will.
Enter Silvius and Phebe.
Look, here comes a lover of mine and a lover of hers.
Phe. Youth, you have done me much ungentleness,
To show the letter that I writ to you.
Ros. I care not if I have : it is my study
To seem despiteful and ungentle to you :
You are there followed by a faithful shepherd ;
Look upon him, love him ; he worships you.
AS YOU LIKE IT Act V. Sc. ii.
Phe. Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love.
5/7. It is to be all made of sighs and tears ; 90
And so am I for Phebe.
Phe. And I for Ganymede.
Or/. And I for Rosalind.
Ros. And I for no woman.
5/7. It is to be all made of faith and service j
And so am I for Phebe.
Phe. And I for Ganymede.
Or/. And I for Rosalind.
Ros. And I for no woman.
5/7. It is to be all made of fantasy, 1 00
All made of passion, and all made of wishes ;
All adoration, duty, and observance,
All humbleness, all patience, and impatience,
All purity, all trial, all observance ;
And so am I for Phebe.
Phe. And so am I for Ganymede.
Or/. And so am I for Rosalind.
Ros. And so am I for no woman.
Phe. If this be so, why blame you me to love you ?
5/7. If this be so, why blame you me to love you ? no
Or/. If this be so, why blame you me to love you ?
Ros. Who do you speak to, ' Why blame you me to
love you ? '
Or/. To her that is not here, nor doth not hear.
Ros. Pray you, no more of this ; 'tis like the howling
of Irish wolves against the moon. [To 5/7.] I
will help you, if I can: [To Phe.] I would love
you, if I could. To-morrow meet me all to-
gether. [To Phe.] I will marry you, if ever I
marry woman, and I'll be married to-morrow: 120
Act V. Sc. iii. AS YOU LIKE IT
[To Or/.] I will satisfy you, if ever I satisfied
man, and you shall be married to-morrow : [To
Si/.] I will content you, if what pleases you
contents you, and you shall be married to-mor-
row. [To Or/.] As you love Rosalind, meet :
[To Si/.] as you love Phebe, meet : and as I love
no woman, I '11 meet. So, fare you well : I have
left you commands.
Si/. I '11 not fail, if I live.
Phe. Nor I. Igo
Or/. Nor I. [Exeunt.
Scene III.
The forest.
Enter Touchstone and Audrey.
Touch. To-morrow is the joyful day, Audrey ; to-
morrow will we be married.
And. I do desire it with all my heart ; and I hope
it is no dishonest desire to desire to be a woman
of the world. Here come two of the banished
Duke's pages.
Enter tiuo Pages.
First Page. Well met, honest gentleman.
Touch. By my troth, well met. Come, sit, sit, and a
song.
Sec. Page. We are for you : sit i' the middle. 10
First Page. Shall we clap into 't roundly, without
hawking or spitting or saying we are hoarse,
which are the only prologues to a bad voice ?
Seepage. I' faith, i' faith ; and both in a tune, like
two gipsies on a horse.
AS YOU LIKE IT Act V. Sc. iii.
Song.
It was a lover and his lass,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
That o'er the green corn-field did pass
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding : 20
Sweet lovers love the spring.
Between the acres of the rye,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
These pretty country folks would lie,
In spring time, &c.
This carol they began that hour,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
How that a life was but a flower
In spring time, &c.
And therefore take the present time, 30
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino ;
For love is crowned with the prime
In spring time, &c.
Touch. Truly, young gentlemen, though there was no
great matter in the ditty, yet the note was very
untuneable.
First Page. You are deceived, sir : we kept time, we
lost not our time.
Touch. By my troth, yes ; I count it but time lost to
hear such a foolish song. God be wi' you ; and 40
God mend your voices ! Come, Audrey. [Exeunt.
Act V. Sc. iv. AS YOU LIKE IT
Scene IV.
The forest.
Enter Duke senior , Amiens, Jaques, Orlando, Oliver,
and Celia.
Duke S. Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy
Can do all this that he hath promised ?
Or/. I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do not ;
As those that fear they hope, and know they fear.
Enter Rosalind, Silvius, and Phebe.
Ros. Patience once more, whiles our compact is urged :
You say, if I bring in your Rosalind,
You will bestow her on Orlando here ?
Duke S. That would I, had I kingdoms to give with her.
Ros. And you say, you will have her, when I bring her.
Or/. That would I, were I of all the kingdoms king. io
Ros. You say, you'll marry me, if I be willing ?
Phe. That will I, should I die the hour after.
Ros. But if you do refuse to marry me,
You '11 give yourself to this most faithful shepherd ?
Phe. So is the bargain.
Ros. You say, that you '11 have Phebe, if she will ?
Sil. Though to have her and death were both one thing.
Ros. I have promised to make all this matter even.
Keep you your word, O Duke, to give your daughter ;
You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter : 20
Keep your word, Phebe, that you '11 marry me,
Or else refusing me, to wed this shepherd :
Keep your word, Silvius, that you'll marry her,
If she refuse me : and from hence I go,
To make these doubts all even.
[Exeunt Rosalind and Celia.
AS YOU LIKE IT Act V. Sc. iv.
Duke S. I do remember in this shepherd boy
Some lively touches of my daughter's favour.
Or/. My lord, the first time that I ever saw him
Methought he was a brother to your daughter:
But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born, 30
And hath been tutor'd in the rudiments
Of many desperate studies by his uncle,
Whom he reports to be a great magician,
Obscured in the circle of this forest.
Enter Touchstone and Audrey.
Jaq. There is, sure, another flood toward, and these
couples are coming to the ark. Here comes a
pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues
are called fools.
Touch. Salutation and greeting to you all !
Jaq. Good my lord, bid him welcome : this is the 40
motley-minded gentleman that I have so often
met in the forest : he hath been a courtier, he
swears.
Touch. If any man doubt that, let him put me to my
purgation. I have trod a measure ; I have
flattered a lady ; I have been politic with my
friend, smooth with mine enemy ; I have un-
done three tailors ; I have had four quarrels,
and like to have fought one.
Jaq. And how was that ta'en up ? 50
Touch. Faith, we met, and found the quarrel was
upon the seventh cause.
Jaq. How seventh cause ? Good my lord, like this
fellow.
Duke S. I like him very well.
Act V. Sc. iv. AS YOU LIKE IT
Touch. God 'ild you, sir ; I desire you of the like.
I press in here, sir, amongst the rest of the
country copulatives, to swear and to forswear ;
according as marriage binds and blood breaks : a
poor virgin, sir, an ill-favoured thing, sir, but 60
mine own ; a poor humour of mine, sir, to take
that that no man else will : rich honesty dwells
like a miser, sir, in a poor house ; as your pearl
in your foul oyster.
Duke S. By my faith, he is very swift and sententious.
Touch. According to the fool's bolt, sir, and such
dulcet diseases.
Jaq. But, for the seventh cause ; how did you find
the quarrel on the seventh cause ?
Touch. Upon a lie seven times removed : — bear your 70
body more seeming, Audrey : — as thus, sir. I
did dislike the cut of a certain courtier's beard :
he sent me word, if I said his beard was not cut
well, he was in the mind it was : this is called
the Retort Courteous. If I sent him word
again ' it was not well cut,' he would send me
word, he cut it to please himself: this is called
the Quip Modest. If again ' it was not well
cut,' he disabled my judgement : this is called
the Reply Churlish. If again ' it was not well 80
cut,' he would answer, I spake not true : this is
called the Reproof Valiant. If again ' it was
not well cut,' he would say, I lie : this is called
the Countercheck Quarrelsome : and so to the
Lie Circumstantial and the Lie Direct.
Jaq. And how oft did you say his beard was not well
cut?
AS YOU LIKE IT Act V. Sc. iv.
Touch. I durst go no further than the Lie Circum-
stantial, nor he durst not give me the Lie Direct ;
and so we measured swords and parted. 90
Jaq. Can you nominate in order now the degrees of
the lie ?
Touch. O sir, we quarrel in print, by the book ; as
you have books for good manners : I will name
you the degrees. The first, the Retort Court-
eous ; the second, the Quip Modest ; the third,
the Reply Churlish ; the fourth, the Reproof
Valiant : the fifth, the Countercheck Ouarrel-
some; the sixth, the Lie with Circumstance;
the seventh, the Lie Direct. All these you may loo
avoid but the Lie Direct ; and you may avoid
that too, with an If. I knew when seven
justices could not take up a quarrel, but when the
parties were met themselves, one of them thought
but of an If, as, ' If you said so, then I said
so'; and they shook hands and swore brothers.
Your If is the only peace-maker ; much virtue
in If.
Jaq. Is not this a rare fellow, my lord ? he 's as
good at any thing and yet a fool. no
Duke S. He uses his folly like a stalking-horse and
under the presentation of that he shoots his
wit.
Enter Hymen, Rosalind, and Celia.
Still Music.
Hym. Then is there mirth in heaven,
When earthly things made even
Atone together
Act V. Sc. iv. AS YOU LIKE IT
Good Duke, receive thy daughter :
Hymen from heaven brought her,
Yea, brought her hither,
That thou mightst join her hand with his 1 20
Whose heart within his bosom is.
Ros. To you I give myself, for I am yours.
To you I give myself, for I am yours.
Duke S. If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter.
Or/. If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind.
Phe. If sight and shape be true,
Why then, my love adieu !
Ros. I '11 have no father, if you be not he :
I'll have no husband, if you be not he :
Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she : 1 30
Hym. Peace, ho ! I bar confusion :
'Tis I must make conclusion
Of these most strange events :
Here 's eight that must take hands
To join in Hymen's bands,
If truth holds true contents.
You and you no cross shall part :
You and you are heart in heart :
You to his love must accord,
Or have a woman to your lord : 140
You and you are sure together,
As the winter to foul weather.
Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing,
Feed yourselves with questioning ;
That reason wonder may diminish,
How thus we met, and these things finish.
AS YOU LIKE IT Act V. Sc. iv.
Song.
Wedding is great Juno's crown :
O blessed bond of board and bed !
'Tis Hymen peoples every town ;
High wedlock then be honoured : 1 50
Honour, high honour and renown,
To Hymen, god of every town !
Duke S. O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me !
Even daughter, welcome, in no less degree.
Phe. I will not eat my word, now thou art mine ;
Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine.
Enter Jaques de Boys.
Jaq. de B. Let me have audience for a word or two :
I am the second son of old Sir Rowland,
That bring these tidings to this fair assembly.
Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day 160
Men of great worth resorted to this forest,
Address'd a mighty power ; which were on foot,
In his own conduct, purposely to take
His brother here and put him to the sword :
And to the skirts of this wild wood he came ;
Where meeting with an old religious man,
After some question with him, was converted
Both from his enterprise and from the world ;
His crown bequeathing to his banish'd brother,
And all their lands restored to them again 170
That were with him exiled. This to be true,
I do engage my life.
Duke S. Welcome, young man ;
Act V. Sc. iv. AS YOU LIKE IT
Thou offer'st fairly to thy brothers' wedding :
To one his lands withheld ; and to the other
A land itself at large, a potent dukedom.
First, in this forest let us do those ends
That here were well begun and well begot :
And after, every of this happy number,
That have endured shrewd days and nights with us,
Shall share the good of our returned fortune, 1 80
According to the measure of their states.
Meantime, forget this new-fallen dignity,
And fall into our rustic revelry.
Play, music ! And you, brides and bridegrooms all,
With measure heap'd in joy, to the measures fall.
Jaq. Sir, by your patience. If I heard you rightly,
The Duke hath put on a religious life
And thrown into neglect the pompous court ?
Jaq. de B. He hath.
Jaq. To him will I : out of these convertites 190
There is much matter to be heard and learn'd.
[To Duke iS.] You to your former honour I bequeath j
Your patience and your virtue well deserves it :
[To OrL] You to a love, that your true faith doth
merit :
[To 0/;.] You to your land, and love, and great allies :
[To Si/.~\ You to a long and well-deserved bed :
[To Touch.] And you to wrangling ; for thy loving voyage
Is but for two months victuall'd. So, to your
pleasures :
I am for other than for dancing measures.
Duke S. Stay, Jaques, stay. 200
Jaq. To see no pastime I : what you would have
I '11 stay to know at your abandon'd cave. [Exit.
AS YOU LIKE IT Epilogue
Duke S. Proceed, proceed : we will begin these rites,
As we do trust they '11 end, in true delights.
\_A dance.
EPILOGUE.
Ros. It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue ;
but it is no more unhandsome than to see the
lord the prologue. If it be true that good wine
needs no bush, 'tis true that a good play needs
no epilogue : yet to good wine they do use good
bushes ; and good plays prove the better by the
help of good epilogues. What a case am I in
then, that am neither a good epilogue, nor cannot
insinuate with you in the behalf of a good play !
I am not furnished like a beggar, therefore to beg 10
will not become me : my way is to conjure you ;
and I '11 begin with the women. I charge you,
O women, for the love you bear to men, to like
as much of this play as please you : and I charge
you, O men, for the love you bear to women, —
as I perceive by your simpering, none of you
hates them, — that between you and the women
the play may please. If I were a woman I
would kiss as many of you as had beards that
pleased me, complexions that liked me and 20
breaths that I defied not : and, I am sure, as
many as have good beards or good faces or
sweet breaths will, for my kind offer, when I
make curtsy, bid me farewell. [Exeunt.
3 o
AS YOU LIKE IT
Glossary.
Abused, deceived ; III. v. 80.
Accord, consent ; V. iv. 139.
Address'd, prepared; V. iv. 162.
All at once, all in a breath ; III. v. 36.
Allottery. allotment, allotted share ;
I. i. 75.
All points = zt all points; I. iii.
115.
Amaze, confuse ; I. ii. 107.
An, if; IV. i. 31.
Anatomize, expose; I. i. 161.
Answered, satisfied ; II. vii. 99.
Antique, ancient, old ; II. i. 31 ; II.
iii. 57.
Any, any one ; I. ii. 140.
Argument, reason ; I. ii. 281.
Arm's end, arm's length ; II. vi. 10.
As, to wit, namely ; II. i. 6.
Assay'd attempted ; I. iii. 128.
Banquet, dessert, including wine ;
II. v. 62.
Bar, forbid, V. iv. 131 ; " bars me,"
i.e. excludes me from, I. i. 20.
Batlet = little bat, used by laun-
dresses ; II. iv. 49.
Beholding, beholden ; IV. i. 60.
Bestoivs himself, carries himself; IV.
iii. 87.
Better, greater ; III. i. 2.
Blood, affection, II. iii. 37 ; passion,
V. iv. 59.
Boar spear, "unlike the ordinary
spear it appears to have been
seldom thrown, but the rush
made by the animal on the hunter
was met by a direct opposition of
the weapon on his part"(Halli-
well) ; I. iii. 117.
From an ivory comb (XVth Cent.) in the collection of Lord Londesborough.
(The illustration exhibits the peculiar use of the weapon, which was never thrown, and
other characteristics of mediaeval hunting scenes.
Atalanta's better part ; variously inter-
preted as referring to Atalanta's
"swiftness," " beauty," "spiritual
part"; probably the reference is
to her beautiful form ; III. ii. 150.
Atomies, motes in a sunbeam ; III. ii.
240.
Atone together, are at one ; V. iv. 116.
Bandy, contend ; V. i. 59.
Bob, rap, slap ; II. vii. 55.
Bonnet, hat ; III. ii. 389.
Bottom, " neighbour b.," the neigh-
bouring dell ; IV. iii. 79.
Bounds, boundaries, range of pasture;
II. iv. 83.
Boiv, yoke ; III. iii. 78.
Bravery, finery ; II. vii. 80.
Breathed; "well breathed," in full
display of my strength ; I. ii. 218.
AS YOU LIKE IT
Glossary
Breather, living being ; III. ii. 289.
Breed, train up, educate ; I. i. 4.
Brief, in brief; IV. iii. 151.
Broke, broken ; II. iv. 40.
Broken music; "some instruments
such as viols, violins, etc., were
formerly made in sets of four,
which, when played together,
formed a 'consort.' Ifoneormore
of the instruments of one set were
substituted for the corresponding
ones of another set, the result is
no longer a 'consort,' but 'broken
music '" (Chappell) ; I. ii. 140.
Brutish, animal nature; II. vii. 66,
Buckles in, surrounds ; III. ii. 135.
Bugle, a tube-shaped bead of black
glass ; III. v. 47.
Burden, the " burden " of a song
was the base, foot, or under-song ;
III. ii. 255.
Bush; "Good wine needs no b." ;
alluding to the bush of ivy which
was usually hung out at Vintners'
doors ; Epil. 3.
H^^s^
Ox.
l\m^(if^f^i^
From an illuminated MS. (XlVth Cent.)
in the Hunterian Museum at Glasgow.
Butchery, slaughter-house ; II. Iii.
27- "
Calling, appellation ; I. ii. 235.
Capable, sensible, receivable; III. v. 23.
Capon lined, alluding to the custom-
ary gifts expected by Elizabethan
magistrates, " capon justices," as
they were occasionally called ;
II. vii. 154.
Capricious, used with a play upon
its original sense ; Ital. capric-
cioso, fantastical, goatish ; capra,
a goat ; III. iii. 8.
Carlot, little churl, rustic ; III. v. 108.
Cast, cast off; III. iv. 15.
Censure, criticism ; IV. i. 7.
Change, reversal of fortune; I. iii. 10 1.
Chanticleer, the cock ; II. vii. 30.
Character, write ; III. ii. 6.
Cheerly, cheerily; II. vi. 14.
Chopt, chapped ; II. iv. 50.
Chroniclers (Folio i " chronoclers")
perhaps used for the "jurymen,"
but the spelling of Folio 1 sug-
gests "coroners" for "chron-
iclers"; IV. i. 104.
Churlish, miserly ; II. iv. 80.
Cicatrice, a mere mark (not the scar
of a wound); III. v. 23.
City-ivoman, citizen's wife ; II. vii. 75.
Civil; " c. sayings," sober, grave
maxims, perhaps "polite"; III.
ii. 131.
Civility, politeness; II. vii. 96.
Clap into't, to begin a song briskly;
V. iii. 11.
Clubs, the weapon used by the
London prentices, for the pre-
servation of the public peace, or
for the purposes of riot ; V. ii. 45.
Cods, strictly the husks containing
the peas ; perhaps here used for
" peas" ; II. iv. 53.
Colour, nature, kind ; I. ii. 99, 100.
Combine, bind ; V. iv. 156.
Come off", get off; I. ii. 30.
Comfort, take comfort; II vi. 5.
Commandment, command; II. vii. 109.
Glossary
AS YOU LIKE IT
Compact,made up, composed; II.vii.5.
Complexion ; " good my c," perhaps
little more than the similar excla-
mation "goodness me !"or " good
heart ! " possibly, however, Rosa-
lind appeals to her complexion
not to betray her; III. ii. 199.
Conceit, imagination ; II. vi. 8 ; men-
tal capacity; V. ii. 59.
Condition, mood ; I. ii. 266.
Conduct, leadership ; V. iv. 163.
Conned, learnt by heart; III. ii. 289.
Constant, accustomed, ordinary ; III.
v. 123.
Contents; "if truth holds true c."
i.e. " if there be truth in truth " ;
V. iv. 136.
Contriver, plotter; I. i. 150.
Conversed, associated ; V. ii. 66.
Convertites, converts; V. iv. 190.
Cony, rabbit ; III. ii. 348.
Cope, engage with ; II. i. 67.
Copulatives, those desiring to be
united in marriage; V. iv. 58.
Cote; "cavennede bergier ; a shepherd's
cote ; a little cottageor cabin made
of turfs, straw, boughs, or leaves"
(Cotgrave) ; II. iv. 83.
Could, would gladly ; I. ii. 249.
Countenance ; "his countenance "pro-
bably = " his entertainment of me,
the style of living which he allows
me" ; I. i. 19.
Counter, worthless wager ; originally
pieces of false money used as a
means of reckoning ; II. vii. 63.
Courtship, court life ; III. ii. 355.
Cousin, niece ; I. iii. 41.
Cover, set the table ; II. v. 30.
Cross, used equivocally in the sense
of (1) misfortune, and (z) money ;
the ancient penny had a double
cross with a crest stamped on, so
that it might easily be broken
into four pieces; II. iv. 12.
Croiv, laugh heartily ; II. vii. 30
Curtle-axe, a cutlass, a short sword ;
I. iii. 116.
Damnable, worthy of condemnation ;
V. ii. 68.
Dejied, disliked ; Epil. 21.
Desperate, bold, daring, forbidden ;
V. iv. 32.
Device, aims, ambitions ; I. i. 173.
Dial, an instrument for measuring
From Petra-Sancta de Symbolis Heroicis
(1634). (This portable time-indicator is
interesting because of the magnet by
which the owner might "ascertain the
proper position by means of the shadow
cast from a line which opens with the top.")
Counter or Jetton.
From an engraving in Knight' Pictorial Shakespeare.
AS YOU LIKE IT
Glossary
time in which the hours were
marked ; a small portable sun-
dial ; II. vii. 20.
Disable, undervalue ; IV. i. 34.
Disabled, disparaged ; V. iv. 79.
Dishonest, immodest ; V. iii. 4.
Dislike= express dislike of; V. iv.
72.
Disputable, fond of disputing ; II. v.
34-
Diverted, diverted from its natural
course ; II. iii. 37.
Dog-apes, baboons ; II. v. 25.
Dole, grief; I. ii. 130.
Ducdame, burden of Jaques' song,
variously interpreted by editors,
e.g. "due ad me," " hue ad me;"
probably, however, the word is
an ancient refrain, of Celtic
origin ; Halliwell notes that dus-
adam-me-me occurs in a MS. of
Piers Ploiuman, where ordinary
texts read Hotv, trolly, lolly (C.
ix. 123); it is probably a sur-
vival of some old British game
like " Tom Tidier," and is said
to mean in Gaelic " this land is
mine " ; according to others it
is a Welsh phrase equivalent to
" come to me." Judging by all
the evidence on the subject the
Gaelic interpretation seems to be
most plausible; n.b. 1. 61, "to
call fools into a circle " ; II. v.
54-
Dulcet diseases, [? an error for " dul-
cet discourses "] perhaps " sweet
mortifications," alluding to such
proverbial sayings as " fool's bolt
is soon shot," &c; V. iv. 67.
East, eastern ; III. ii. 91.
Eat, eaten ; II. vii. 88.
Effigies, likeness ; II. vii. 193.
Enchantingly , as if under a spell ; I.
•• J73-
Engage, pledge; V. iv. 172.
Entame, bring into a state of tame-
ness ; III. v. 48.
Entreated, persuaded ; I. ii. 150.
Erring, wandering; III. ii. 133.
Estate, bequeath, settle ; V. ii.
13-
Ethiope, black as an Ethiopian ; IV.
iii. 35.
Exempt, remote; II. i. 15.
Expediently, expeditiously; III. i.
18.
Extent, seizure; III. i. 17.
Extermined, exterminated ; III. v.
89.
Fair, beauty ; III. ii. 98.
Falls, lets fall; III. v. 5.
Fancy, love ; III. v. 29.
Fancy-monger, love-monger ; III. ii.
373-
Fantasy, fancy ; II. iv. 31.
Favour, aspect ; IV. iii. 87 ; coun-
tenance ; V. iv. 27.
Feature, shape, form ; used perhaps
equivocally, but with what par-
ticular force is not known ;
"feature" may have been used
occasionally in the sense of
" verse-making " (cp. Note) ; III.
iii. 3.
Feed, pasturage; II. iv. 83.
Feeder, servant ("factor" and
"fedary" have been suggested);
II. iv. 99.
Feelingly, by making itself felt ; II. i.
11.
Fells, woolly skins ; III. ii. 55.
Fleet, make to fly ; I. i. 123.
Flout, mock at, jeer at ; I. ii. 46.
Fond, foolish ; II. iii. 7.
For, for want of; II. iv. 75 ; II. vi.
2 ; because ; III. ii. 129 ; as re-
gards ; IV. iii. 139.
Forked heads, i.e. " fork - heads,"
which Ascham describes in his
Toxophilus as being "arrows
having two points stretching
forward " ; II. i. 24.
Formal, having due regard to
dignity ; II. vii. 155.
Free, not guilty ; II. vii. 85.
Glossary
AS YOU LIKE IT
Freestone-colour d, dark coloured, of
the colour of Bath-brick ; IV.
iii. 25.
Furnished, apparelled ; Epilogue 10.
Gargantuas mouth ; alluding to " the
large-throated " giant of Rabelais,
who swallowed five pilgrims, with
their pilgrims' staves, in a salad ;
though there was no English
translation of Rabelais in Shake-
speare's time, yet several chap-
book histories of Gargantua were
published ; III. ii. 233.
Gentility, gentleness of birth ; I. i.
22.
Gesture, bearing ; V. ii. 69.
Glances, hits ; II. vii. 57.
God bay you = " God be with you " ;
hence, "good-bye"; III. ii. 268.
God 'ild you=ii God yield (reward |
you " ; III. iii. 74.
God ye good even = God give you good
even (often represented by some
such form as " Godgigoden ") ;
V. i. 15.
Golden world, golden age ; I. i. 124.
Goths (evidently pronounced very
much like " goats," hence
Touchstone's joke); the Get^
(or Goths) among whom Ovid
lived in banishment ; III. iii. 9.
Grace, gain honour; I. i. 154.
Grace me, get me credit, good re-
pute ; V. ii. 64.
Gracious, looked upon with favour ;
I. ii. 189.
Graff, graft; III. ii. 120.
Gravelled, stranded, at a standstill ;
IV. i. 73.
Harm, misfortunes ; III. ii. 78.
Have with you, come along ; I. ii.
258.
Having, possession ; III. ii. 387.
He = mz.n ; III. ii. 403.
Headed, grown to a head ; II. vii.
67.
Heart, affection, love ; I. i. 174.
Here much, used ironically, in a
negative sense, as in the modern
phrase " much I care 1 " IV. iii. 2.
Him=zhe whom ; I. i. 45.
Hinds, serfs, servants; I. i. 20.
Holla; "cry holla to"; restrain;
III. ii. 252.
Holy, sacramental ; III. iv. 14.
Honest, virtuous ; I. ii. 39.
Hooping, " out of all hooping,"
beyond the bounds of wonder-
ing ; III. ii. 198.
Humorous, full of whims, capricious ;
I. ii. 268; II. iii. 8 ; fanciful; IV.
i. 20.
Hurtling, din, tumult ; IV. iii. 132.
Hyen, hyena; IV. i. 157.
From an ornamented post in Wenden
Church, Essex.
Ill-favoured, ugly in face, bad look-
ing ; V. iv. 60.
Ill-favouredly, Ugly ; I. ii. 40.
Impressure, impression ; III. v. 23.
Incision; " God make in." i.e. " give
thee a better understanding " ; a
reference perhaps to the cure by
blood-letting ; it was said of a
very silly person that he ought
to be cut for the simples ; III. ii.
73-
Incontinent, immediately ; V. ii. 42.
Inquisition, search, inquiry ; II. ii. 20.
Insinuate ii'ith, ingratiate myself
with ; Epil. 9.
Insomuch = in as much as ; V. ii. 61.
Intendment, intention ; I. i. I 39.
Invectively, bitterly, with invective;
II. i. 58.
AS YOU LIKE IT
Glossary
Irish rat ; Irish witches were said to
be able to rime either man or
beast to death ; be-rimed rats are
frequently alluded to in Eliza-
bethan writers; III. ii. 182.
Irks, grieves ; II. i. 22.
Jars, discordant sounds ; II. vii. 5.
.'Judas's; "browner than J."; he
was usually represented in ancient
painting or tapestry with red
hair and beard ; III. iv. 8.
Juno's sivans, probably an error for
Venus, represented as swan-
drawn in Ovid (Meta. x. 708);
I. iii. 74-
Just, just so ; III. ii. 274.
Justly, exactly ; I. ii. 246.
Kind, nature; IV. iii. 59.
Kindle, enkindle, incite; I. i. 178.
Kindled, brought forth ; used techni-
cally for the littering of rabbits ;
III. ii. 349.
Knoll'd, chimed; II. vii. 114.
Lack, do without; IV. i. 182.
Learn, teach ; I. ii. 6.
Leave, permission ; I. i. 108 ; I. ii.
156.
Leer, countenance; IV. i. 66.
Lief, gladly; I. i. 151 ; III. ii. 263.
Limn'd, drawn ; II. vii. 194.
Lined, drawn; III. ii. 95.
Lively = life-like ; V. iv. 27.
Loose, let loose ; III. v. 103.
Lover, mistress; III. iv. 42.
Make = ma.ke fast, shut; IV. i. 162.
Manage, training or breaking in of
a horse ; I. i. 13.
Mannish, male ; I. iii. 120.
Matter, sound sense ; 11. i. 68 ;
sense, meaning; V. iii. 35.
Measure, a court dance; V. iv. 45.
Meed, reward ; II. iii. 58.
Memory, memorial ; II. iii. 3.
Might, may ; I. ii. 182.
Mines, undermines; I. i. 21.
Misprised, despised, thought nothing
of; I. i. 176 ; I. ii. 181.
Mod-able, liable to ridicule; III. ii.
49.
Mocks, mockeries ; III. v. 33.
Modern, commonplace, ordinary ;
II. vii. 156 ; IV. i. 7.
Moe, more; III. ii. 271.
Moonish, variable, fickle ; III. ii. 421.
Moral, probably an adjective,
moralising ; II. vii. 29.
Moralize, discourse, expound ; II. i.
44.
Mortal, "mortal in folly" ; a
quibble of doubtful meaning;
perhaps — " excessive, very," i.e.
"extremely foolish" (? = likely
to succumb to folly) ; II. iv. 57.
Motley, the parti-coioured dress of
domestic fools or jesters ; II. vii.
34; (used adjectively), II. vii. 13;
fool, III. iii. 77.
Mutton, sheep ; III. ii. 57.
Napkin, handkerchief; IV. iii. 94.
Natural, idiot ; I. ii. 50.
Nature, " of such a nature," whose
special duty it is; III. i. 16.
Nature's sale-ivork = ready - made
goods ; III. v. 43.
Naught; "be n. awhile," a pro-
verbial expression equivalent to
" a mischief on you " ; I. i. 37.
Needless, not needing ; II. i. 46.
Neiv-fangled, fond of what is new ;
IV. i. 152.
Nice, trifling; IV. i. 15.
Nurture, good manners, breeding ;
II. vii. 97.
Observance, attention, III. ii. 242 ;
reverence, respect, V. ii. 102, 104;
(the repetition is probably due to
the compositor; "endurance,"
" obedience," " deservance," have
been suggested for line 104).
Occasion; "her husband's o." = an
opportunity for getting the
better of her husband ; IV. i. 178.
Glossary
AS YOU LIKE IT
Of, " searching of "=:a-searching of,
II. iv. 44 ; " complain of," i.e. of
the want of; III. ii. 31 ; by ; III.
ii. 352 ; III. iii. 91.
Offer st fairly, dost contribute
largely; V. iv. 173.
Oliver ; " O sweet O." the fragment
of an old ballad; III. iii. 99.
Painted cloth, canvas painted with
figures, mottoes, or moral sen-
tences, used for hangings for
rooms ; III. ii. 283.
( '. .11 lilWlWMlU'MfHWWlV
J.C» ;X '■^'•"
i.*I."V"Wi«;1'""1'" """«
if***** ^^cMtr w^p^arit
vuiaww.iv'S'TW'^
! Aiis representation of a meeting between
Death and a fop is a copy of a paint-
ing formerly preserved in the Hunger-
ford Chapel, Salisbury Cathedral. The
dialogue between the characters is
painted on the labels over their heads.
Pantaloon, a standing character in
the old Italian comedy ; he wore
slippers, spectacles, and a pouch,
and invariably represented as an
old dotard ; taken typically for a
Venetian ; St Pantaleon was the
patron saint of Venice ; II. vii.
158.
From Calot's series of plates illustrating
the Italian comedy.
Parcels, detail ; III. v. 125.
Pard, leopard ; II. vii. 150.
Parlous, perilous ; III. ii. 45.
Passing, surpassing, exceedingly ;
III. v. 138.
Pathetical, probably "affection-mov-
ing," perhaps used with the
force of " pitiful " ; IV. i. 196.
Payment, punishment ; I. i. 165.
Peascod, literally the husk or pod
which contains the peas, used for
the plant itself; "our ancestors
were frequently accustomed in
their love affairs to employ the
divination of a peascod, and if the
good omen of the peas remaining
in the husk were preserved, they
presented it to the lady of their
choice " ; II. iv. 52.
Peevish, wayward, saucy ; III. v.
1 10.
Perpend, reflect ; III. ii. 68.
Petitionary, imploring ; III. ii. 194.
Phcenix ; "as rare as p."; the
phoenix, according to Seneca,
was born once only in 500 years ;
IV. iii. 17.
Place = dwelling-place ; II. iii. 27.
AS YOU LIKE IT
Glossary
155-
II.
4-
Places, topics, subjects ; II. viii. 40.
Point-device, i.e. at point device, trim,
faultless ; III. ii. 393.
Poke, pocket ; II. vii. 20.
Poor ; " p. a thousand crowns," the
adjective precedes the article for
the sake of emphasis, and pro-
bably also because of the substan-
tival force of the whole expres-
sion " a thousand crowns " ; I. i.
2.
Portugal; "bay of P." " still used
by sailors to denote that portion
of the sea off the coast of P. from
Oporto to the headland of
Cintra" ; IV. i. 213.
Practice, plot, scheme ; I. i.
Practices, plots, schemes ;
26.
Present, being present ; III.
Presentation, representation ; V. iv.
112.
Presently, immediately ; II. vi. 11.
Prevents, anticipates ; IV. i. 61.
Priser, prize-fighter ; II. iii. 8.
Private, particular, individual ; II.
vii. 7.
Prodigal ; " what p. portion have I
spent," i.e. "what portion have I
prodigally spent"; I. i. 40.
Pro/it, proficiency; I. 1.7.
Prologues; "the only p.," i.e. only
the p." ; V. iii. 13.
Proper, handsome; I. ii. 120.
Properer, more handsome; III. v. 51.
Puisnij, unskilled, inferior ; III. iv.
42.
Pulpiter (Spedding's emendation for
"Jupiter," the reading of the
Folios); III. ii. 158.
Purchase, acquire; III. ii. 351.
Purgation, vindication ; I. iii. 52 ;
proof, test; V. iv. 45.
Purlieus, the grounds on the borders
of the forest ; IV. iii. 77.
Pythagoras' time, an allusion to that
philosopher's doctrine of the
transmigration of souls ; III. ii.
182.
Quail, slacken ; II. ii. 20.
Question, conversation ; III. iv. 34.
Quintain, a figure set up for tilting
at in country games, generally in
the likeness of a Turk or Saracen,
bearing a shield upon his left
arm, and brandishing a club with
his right, which moved round
and struck a severe blow if the
horseman made a bad aim ; I. ii.
253. The following is a rudi-
mentary form of the more elabor-
ate Quintain : —
From Stow's Survey of London (1603).
Quintessence, the extract from a thing,
containing its virtues in a small
quantity; originally, in medieval
philosophy, the fifth essence, or
spirit, or soul of the world, which
consisted not of the four elements,
but was a certain fifth, a thing
above or beside them ; III. ii. 142.
Quip, a smart saying; V. iv. 78.
Quit, acquit ; III. i. 11.
Quotidian, a fever, the paroxysms of
which return every day, expressly
mentioned in old writers as a
symptom of love ; III. ii. 374.
Ragged, rough, untuneful ; II. v. 14-
Rank, row, line; IV. iii. 80; "butter-
women's rank" [" rate," " rack "
" rant (at)," "canter," have been
proposed] — file, order, jog-trot;
III. ii. 101.
Raniness, presumption ; I, i. 90.
Glossary
AS YOU LIKE IT
Rascal, technical term for lean deer;
III. iii. 57.
Raiv, ignorant, inexperienced ; III.
ii. 74.
Reason, talk, converse; I. ii. 54.
Recks, cares ; II. iv. 81.
Recountments , things recounted, nar-
rations ; IV. iii. 141.
Recover'd, restored ; IV. iii. 151.
Religious, belonging to some re-
ligious order ; III. ii. 353.
Remembrance, memory ; I. i. 66.
Remorse, compassion ; I. iii. 69.
Removed, remote ; III. ii. 351.
Render, describe; IV. iii. 123.
Resolve, solve ; III. ii. 240.
Reverence; " his reverence," the re-
spect due to him ; I. i. 53.
Right, downright; III. ii. 101; true;
III. ii. 123.
Ripe, grown up ; IV. iii. 88.
Roundly, without delay ; V. iii. 11.
Roynisli, rude, uncouth ; II. ii. 8.
Sad, serious ; III. ii. 151.
Sad broiv, serious face; III. ii. 221.
Satchel; II. vii. 145 ; cp. the follow-
ing illustration: —
From an allegorical picture of learning
and its rewards (1589), in the Stras-
burg Library.
Saivs, maxims; II. vii. 156.
School (probably) university ; I. i. 6.
Scrip, shepherd's pouch; III. ii. 166.
Seeks (used instead of the singular);
V. i. 65.
Seeming, seemly; V. iv. 71.
Se'nnight = seven-night, a week ; III.
ii. 325.
Sententious, pithy; V. iv. 65.
Shadoiv, shady place; IV. i.
222.
Shall, must ; I. i. 133.
She, woman ; III. ii. 10.
Sheaf, gather into sheaves ; III. ii.
1 10.
Should be, came to be, was said to
be ; III. ii. 177.
Shouldst = wouldst ; I. ii. 229.
Shoiv, appear; I. iii. 80.
Shreiud, evil, harsh ; V. iv. 179.
Simples, herbs used in medicine ; IV.
i. 17.
Sir, a title bestowed on the inferior
clergy, hence Sir Oliver Mar-text,
the country curate ; probably a
translation of " Dominus," still
applied to "Bachelors" at the
University ; III. iii. 42.
Smirch, besmear, darken ; I. iii.
in.
Smother ; " from the smoke into tha
s."; thick suffocating smoke; I.
ii. 289.
Snake, used as a term of scorn ; IV.
iii. 71.
So, if, provided that; I. ii. 11.
Sorts, kinds, classes; I. i. 173.
South-sea of discovery, a voyage of dis-
covery over a wide and unknown
ocean; the whole phrase is taken
by some to mean that a minute's
delay will bring so many questions
that to answer them all will be
like a voyage of discovery. Per-
haps the reference is to Rosalind's
discovery of her secret, of the
truth about herself; III. ii.
202.
■Speed, patron ; I. ii. 21 1.
Spleen, passion ; IV. i. 211.
Squandering, random ; II. vii. 57.
Stagger, hesitate ; III. iii. 48.
Stalling horse, "a horse, either real
or fictitious by which the fowler
AS YOU LIKE IT
Glossary
anciently sheltered himself from
the sight of the game" ; V. iv.
in.
From a MS. de la Chasse des bestes
sai(vages (XVth Cent.), preserved at
Paris.
Stay, wait for ; III. ii. 216.
Sticks, strikes, stabs ; I. ii. 244.
Still, continually ; I. ii. 228.
Still music, i.e. soft, low, gentle
music ; V. iv. 113-114.
Straight = straightway , immediately ;
III. v. 136.
Successfully, likely to succeed ; I. ii.
x53-
Suddenly, quickly, speedily ; II. ii.
x9-
Suit, used quibblingly (1) petition,
(2) dress ; II. vii. 44.
Suits = favours (with a play upon
" suit," " livery"); I. ii. 248.
Sun, " to live i' the s." i.e. to live in
open-air freedom ; II. v. 41.
Sure, firmly joined ; V. iv. 141.
Swashing, swaggering; I. iii. 119.
Swift, keen of wit ; V. iv. 65.
Taen up, made up ; V. iv. 50.
Taxation, censure, satire ; I. ii. 84.
Tempered, composed, blended ; I. ii.
14.
Thatched house, alluding to the story
of Baucis and Philemon ; III. iii.
11.
That that = that which ; V. iv. 62.
Thought, melancholy ; or perhaps
"moody reflection"; IV. i. 211.
Thrasonical, boastful (from Thrasc
the boaster, in the Eunuchus of
Terence) ; V. ii. 34.
Tkrice-croivned Queen, ruling in
heaven, earth, and the under-
world, as Luna, Diana, and He-
cate ; III. ii. 2.
Thrifty; " the th. hire I saved," i.e.
"that which by my thrift I saved
out of the hire " ; II. iii. 39.
To, as to ; II. iii. 7.
Touches, characteristics; III. ii. 155.
Toward, at hand ; V. iv. 35.
Toy, bagatelle, trifling affair ; III.
iii. 75.
Traverse, crossways ; III. iv. 41.
Tr oiv you, know you ; III. ii. 184.
Turn'd into, brought into ; IV. iii.
23.
Umber, brown pigment, brought
from Umbria ; I. iii. ill.
Uncouth, unknown, strange; II. vi.
6.
Unexpressive, inexpressive, unable to
be expressed ; III. ii. 10.
Unkind, unnatural ; II. vii. 175.
Unquestionable, unwilling to be con-
versed with ; III. ii. 384.
Unto, in addition to ; I. ii. 240.
Untuneable (Theobald and other
editors " untimeable," cp. the
page's reply), out of tune, per-
haps also " out of time " ; V. iii.
36.
Up; "kill them up"; used as an
intensive particle ; II. i. 62.
Velvet, delicate ("velvet" is the
technical term for the outer
covering of the horns of a stag
in the early stages of its
growth) ; II. i. 50.
Vengeance, mischief; IV. iii. 48.
Villain, bondman, serf; with play
upon the other sense ; I. i. 58.
Voice, "in my voice," i.e. as far
as my vote is concerned ; II. iv.
87.
Glossary
AS YOU LIKE IT
Ware, aware ; II. iv. 58 ; cautious ;
II. iv. 59.
Warp, turn, change the aspect of,
twist out of shape ; II. vii. 187.
Ways; "come your ways" = come
on ; I. ii. 210.
Weak evils, evils which cause weak-
ness ; II. vii. 132.
Wear, fashion ; II. vii. 34.
Wearing, wearying ; II. iv. 38.
Week, an indefinite period of time,
perhaps^ " in the week," cf. the
phrase " too late in the day " ; II.
iii. 74.
Wherein -went he, how was he
dressed? III. ii. 229.
Where you are — what you mean ; V.
ii. 32.
Wit, whither luilt ; an exclamation
of somewhat obscure meaning,
used evidently when anyone was
either talking nonsense or usurp-
ing a greater share in conversa-
tion than justly belonged to him ;
IV. i. 167; cf. "Wit! whither
wander you " ; I. ii. 57.
Woiful, expressive of woe; II. vii.
148.
Woman of the ivorld, i.e. married ; V.
iii. 4.
Working, endeavour ; I. ii. 204.
Wrath, passion, ardour; V. ii. 44.
Wrestler (trisyllabic) ; II. ii. 13.
2"o« = for you ; II. v. 32.
Young, inexperienced : I i. 55.
A XVIIth Cent. Curtle-Ax (see I. i 116).
AS YOU LIKE IT
Notes.
Dramatis Persons. The pronunciation of ' Jaques ' is still somewhat
doubtful, though the metrical test makes it certain that it is always a
dissyllable in Shakespeare : there is evidence that the name was well
known in England, and ordinarily pronounced as a monosyllable ;
hence Harrington's Metamorphosis of A-jax (1596). The name of the
character was probably rendered ' Jakes ' : the modern stage practice is
in favour of ' Jaq-ives.'
I. i. I. ' it -was upon this ashion : bequeathed,'1 &C. The Folio does not
place a stop at ' fashion,'' but makes bequeathed' a past participle; the
words ' charged' . • . ' on his blessing' presuppose ' he ' or ' my father' ;
the nominative may, however, be easily supplied from the context, or
possibly, but doubtfully, ' a ' ( = < he') has been omitted before ' charged.'
There is very much to be said in favour of the Folio reading; a slight
confusion of two constructions seems to have produced the difficulty.
Warburton, Hanmer, and Capell proposed to insert ' my father' before
' bequeathed.' Others punctuate in the same way as in the present text,
but read ' he bequeathed' or ' my father bequeathed' ; the Cambridge editors
hold that the subject of the sentence is intentionally omitted.
I. ii. 32. ' mock the good houseivife Fortune from her -wheel' ; cp. ' Fortune is
From the English translation (Cott. MS., XVth Cent.) of William de
Deguilleville's Pilgrimage of Human Life.
Notes AS YOU LIKE IT
painted -with a -wheel, to signify to you, -which is the moral of it, that she is turning,
and inconstant, and mutability, and -variation,' Henry V., III. vi. 35. ' Good-
house-wife,'' as Harness puts it, ' seems applied to Fortune merely as a jest-
ing appellation.'
I. ii. 82. The Folio prefixes ' Rosalind'1 to the speech: Theobald first
proposed the change to ' Celia,' and he has been followed by most
editors. Capell suggested • Femandine ' for ' Frederick ' in the previous
speech. Shakespeare does not give us the name of Rosalind's father;
he is generally referred to as ' Duke Senior' ; Celia's father is mentioned as
1 Frederick ' in two other places (1. 236 of this scene, and V. iv. 160). One
has, however, a shrewd suspicion that Touchstone is referring to the
exiled king as ' old Frederick,' and that Rosalind speaks the words 'my
father's love is enough to honour him ; ' the expression is so much in harmony
with her subsequent utterance, 11. 237-240 : —
' My father loved Sir Rowland as his soul.'
And again, in the next scene, 1. 30 : —
' The Duke my father loved his father dearly.'
I. ii. 209. ' Ton mean ' ; Theobald proposed ' An you mean,' and the
Cambridge editors suggest that 'and' for '■an' ( = //") may be the right
reading, omitted by the printer, who mistook it for part of the stage-
direction ' Orl. and' for ' Orland.'
I. ii. 274. ' the taller' ; but Rosalind is later on described as ' more than
common tall,' and Celia as 'the -woman lo-w, and broivner than her brother' :
probably 'taller' is a slip of Shakespeare's pen: 'shorter,' 'smaller,'
' lesser ' ' lo-wer,' have been variously proposed ; of these ' lesser ' strikes
one perhaps as most Shakespearian
I. iii. 101. 'charge'; Folio 1, which is followed by Cambridge editors,
« change ' ; ' charge,' i.e. ' burden,' the reading of Folios 2 and 3 seems to be
the true reading.
I. iii. 127. There has been much discussion of the scansion of this
line • several critics, in their anxiety to save Shakespeare from the serious
charge of using a false quantity, propose to accent ' Aliena ' on the pen-
ultimate, but for all that it seems most likely that the line is to be read —
' No longer Cel/ya biit/ AUlena."
II. i. 5. ' here feel ive but' ; Theobald first conjectured ' but ' for 'not' of
the Folios, and his emendation has been accepted by many scholars,
though violently opposed by others. Most of the discussions turn on
' the penalty of Adam,' which ordinarily suggests toil—' in the sweat of thy
AS YOU LIKE IT
Notes
face shalt thou eat bread ' — but in this passage Shakespeare makes
the penalty to be "the seasons' difference," cp. Paradise Lost, x.
678,9:—
' Else had the spring Perpetual smiled on earth with vernant flowers. .'
II. i. 13-14. ' like the toad, ugly and venomous, ' &c. A favourite Euphuistic
conceit, e.g. ' The foule toade hath a fair e stone
in his head,'' Euphues, p. 53 (ed. Arber), based
on an actual belief in toad-stones. The origin
of the belief is traced back to Pliny's descrip-
tion of a stone as ' of the colour of a frog.'
II. iii. 12. ' no more do yours,'' a somewhat
loose construction, but one easily understood,
the force of the previous sentence being ' to
some kind of men their graces serve them not
as friends.'
II. iii. 71. '■seventeen' ; Rowe's emendation
for ' seaventie ' of the Folios.
II. iv. 1. ' iveary' ; Theobald's emendation
for 'merry' of the Folios, and generally
adopted ; some scholars are in favour of the
Folio reading, and put it down to Rosalind's
assumed merriment ; her subsequent confession as to her weariness must
then be taken as an aside.
II. iv. 52. 'from -whom,' i.e. from the peascod ; similarly 'her' in the
next line : he was wooing the peascod instead of his mistress.
II. v. 3. ' turn,'' so the Folios : Pope substituted ' tune' ; but the change
is unnecessary; according to Steevens ' to turn a tune or note ' is still a
current phrase among vulgar musicians.
II. V. 61. 'I'll rail against all the Jirst-born of Egypt.' According to
Johnson ' the fist-born of Egypt' was a proverbial expression for high-
born persons, but it has not been found elsewhere. Nares suggests
that perhaps Jaques is only intended to say that, if he cannot sleep,
he will, like other discontented persons, rail against his betters.
There is no doubt some subtler meaning in the words, and the
following is possibly worthy of consideration : — Jaques says if he
cannot sleep he'll rail again all first-borns, for it is the question of
birthright which has caused him ' leave his wealth and ease,' merely
as he had previously put it ' to please a stubborn will ' ; this idea has
perhaps suggested Pharaoh's stubbornness, and by some such association
' all first-borns ' became ' all the first-born of Egypt ' ; or, by mere
' Wears yet a precious jewel
in his head.'
From an early edition (c.1495 ">.)
of the Ortus Sanitatis.
Notes AS YOU LIKE IT
association, the meaningless tag ' of Egypt' is added by Jaques to round
off the phrase, and to give it some sort of colour.
II. vii. 19. Touchstone of course alludes to the common saying ' For-
tune favours fools,' cp. Every man out of his humour, I. i. :
' Sogliardo. Why, who am I, sir?
Macilente. One of those that fortune favours.
Carlo. \_AsUt~\ The periphrasis of a fool.'
II. vii. 34, 36. (A worthy fool ' ... '0 ivorthy fool' : the ' A ' and
' 0' should probably change places, according to an anonymous con-
jecture noted in the Cambridge Edition.
II. vii. 55. ' Not to seem'; the words ' not to' were first added by
Theobald: the Folios read ' seem ' ; Collier, following his MS. correc-
tions, proposed ' but to seem'; the meaning is the same in both cases.
Mr Furness follows Ingleby in maintaining the correctness of the text,
and paraphrases thus: — " He who is hit the hardest by me must laugh
the hardest, and that he must do so is plain ; because if he is a wise man
he must seem foolishly senseless of the bob by laughing it off. Unless
he does this, viz., shows his insensibility by laughing it off, any chance
hit of the fool will expose every nerve and fibre of his folly."
II. vii. 73. ' the iveary very means,' the reading of the Folios (Folios 1
and 2 ' ivearie' ; Folios 3, 4, ' -weary'}. Pope proposed ' very very';
Collier (MS.) ' the very means of -wear ' ; Staunton ' iveary-very ,' or ' very-
weary.' Others maintain the correctness of the original reading, and
explain, 'until that its very means, being weary or exhausted, do ebb.'
A very plausible emendation was suggested by Singer, viz., ' -wearer's'
for ' -weary,' and it has been adopted by several editors : cp. Henry VIII.
I. i. 83-5:-
' O, many
Have broke their backs with laying manors on 'em
For this great journey.'
II. vii. 178. '■because thou art not seen,' i.e. "as thou art an enemy that
dost not brave us with thy presence " (Johnson) : several unnecessary
emendations have been proposed, e.g. 'Thou causest not that teen'
(Hanmer) ; 'Because thou art foreseen' (Staunton), &c.
II. vii. 189. ' As friend remember'd not,' i.e. ' as forgotten friendship,' or
'as what an unremembered friend feels': cp. ' benefits forgot,' supra.
III. ii. Il6. ' the very false gallop,' cp. Nashe's Four Letters Confuted, "I
would trot a false gallop through the rest of his ragged verses, but that
if I should retort his rime dogrell aright, I must make my verses (as he
doth his) run hobling like a Brewer's Cart upon the stones, and observe
no length in their feet."
AS YOU LIKE IT Notes
III. ii. 158. ' pulpiter': Spedding's suggestion for ' Jupiter'' of the Folios.
III. ii. 431. ' living,' i.e. lasting, permanent; the antithesis seems to
require ' loving, ' which has been substituted by some editors: it is note-
worthy that in some half-dozen instances in Shakespeare ' live ' has been
printed for 'love,' but it is questionable whether any change is justifi-
able here.
III. iii. 5, 6. ' your features / . . . -what features ?' Farmer's conjec-
ture ''feature! . . . -what's feature ' seems singularly plausible ; cp. 1. 17,
' I do not knoiv ivhat " poetical" is.'
III. iii. 79. ' her' so Folios I, 2; 'his,' Folios 3, 4: the female bird
was the falcon ; the male was called • tercel ' or ' tassel.'
III. iv. 44. ' noble goose' : Hanmer substituted 'nose-quilled' for 'noble,'
which is, of course, used ironically.
III. v. 7. ' dies and lives,' i.e. ' lives and dies,' i.e. 'subsists from the
cradle to the grave ' ; the inversion of the words seems to have been an
old idiom : cp. ' Romaunt of the Rose,' v. 5790 : —
' With sorzue they both die and live,
That unto Richesse her hertis yive.'
Other passages in later literature might be adduced where the exigencies
of metre do not exist.
IV. i. 155. 'like Diana in the fountain.' Stow mentions in his Survey of
London (1603) that there was set up in 1596 on the east side of the cross
in Cheapside " a curiously wrought tabernacle of grey marble, and in the
same an alabaster image of Diana, and water conveyed from the Thames
prilling from her naked breast." It is very doubtful whether Shake-
speare is referring to this particular ' Diana,' as some have supposed.
IV. ii. 13. The words ' Then sing him home, the rest shall bear this burden,'
are printed as one line in the Folios. Theobald was the first to re-
arrange, as in the text. Knight, Collier, Dyce, and others take the
whole to be a stage-direction. Knight first called attention to the fact
that possibly the original music for this song is to be found in John
Hilton's ' Catch that Catch Can ; or, a Choice Collection of Catches, Rounds,' &.C.,
1652 (printed Furness, p. 230, 231).
IV. iii. 76. 'fair ones ' ; Mr Wright suggests that perhaps we should
read ' fair one,' and Mr Furness assents to the view that ' Shakespeare
seems to have forgotten that Celia was apparently the only woman pre-
sent.' But surely it is noteworthy that Oliver a few lines lower down
gives the description : — ' The boy is fair,' &c.
IV. iii. 88. 'Hie a ripe sister : the woman loiv' ; the pause at the woman
low caesura takes the place of a syllable.
IV. iii. 102. ' chezuing the food,' usually quoted as ' chewing the cud,' a
3 P
Notes AS YOU LIKE IT
correction of the line first suggested by Scott (cp. Introduction to Qucntin
Dur-ward).
V. ii. 21. '■fair sister; 'Oliver addresses ' Ganymede ' thus for he is
Orlando's counterfeit Rosalind (cp. IV. iii. 93). Some interpreters of
Shakespeare are of opinion that Oliver knows the whole secret of the
situation.
V. ii. 77. '-which I tender dearly'; probably an allusion to the Act
" against Conjuracons, Inchantments, and Witchecraftes," passed under
Elizabeth, which enacted that all persons using witchcraft, &c., whereby
death ensued, should be put to death without benefit of clergy, &c.
V. iii. 16. Chappell printed the music of the song from a MS., now in
the Advocates' Library, Edinburgh, belonging to the early part of the
seventeenth century (cp. Furness, pp. 262, 263). In the Folios the last
stanza is made the second. Mr Rolfe is of opinion that Shakespeare con-
templated a trio between the Pages and Touchstone.
V. iv. 4. ' As those tliat fear they hope, and knoiv they fear.' A large
number of unnecessary emendations have been proposed for this
plausible reading of the Folios ; e.g. i far, they hope, and knoiv they fear ' ;
(fear their hope and hope their fear ' ; ' fear their hope and knoiv their fear,' &c.
The last of these gives the meaning of the line as it stands in the text.
V. iv. 93. ' ive quarrel in print, by the book ' ; Shakespeare probably
refers to " Vincentio Sa-uiolo his Practise. In ttuo Bookes. The first intreating
the use of the Rapier and Dagger. The second, of Honor and honorable Quarrels " ;
printed in 1594.
V. iv. 94. ' books for good manners,' e.g. " A lytle Booke of Good Manersfor
Children -with interpritation into the -vulgare Englysshe tongue by R. Whiitinton ,
Poet Laureat" ; printed at London in 1554 ; (cp. Dr Furnivall's Book of
Norture of John Russell, &C, published by the Early English Text Society,
1868). Cp. Hamlet, V. ii. 149, ' he (i.e. Laertes) is the card or calendar of
gentry,' a probable allusion to the title of some such 'book of manners.'
V. iv. 120. ' her hand -with his ' ; the first and second Folios ' his hand' ;
corrected to ' her ' in the second and third Folios.
V. iv. 154. 'even daughter, -welcome'; Theobald proposed i daughter -
•welcome,' i.e. 'welcome as a daughter.' Folios 1, 2, 3, read ' daughter
-welcome'; Folio 4, ' daughter, luelcome.' The sense is clear whichever
reading is adopted, though the rhythm seems in favour of the reading
in the text : ' O my dear niece,' says the Duke, ' nay, daughter, welcome
to me in no less degree than daughter.'
Epilogue, 18. ' If I -were a woman'; the part of Rosalind was of
course originally taken by a boy-actor : women's parts were not taken
by women till after the Restoration.
v//v
' . ■ s J// ff'/rr/'
THE TAMING OF THE SHREW
Preface.
The Editions. The Taming 0j- The ShreV) was first printed in the
First Folio. A Quarto edition appeared in 1631, with the following
title-page : —
" A ivittie and pleasant Comedie called the Taming of the Shreiv. As it -was
acted by His Majesties servants at The Blade Friers and the Globe. Written by
Will. Shakespeare. London. Printed by W. S. for John Smethivicke, and are to
be sold at his shop at Saint Dunstones Churchyard under the Diall. 1 63 1."
This Quarto was certainly printed from the Folio ; Smethwicke (or
Smythick) was one of the publishers of the latter, and to him, moreover,
there was transferred, on Nov. 19th, 1607, an old play called The Taming
of A Shreiv, which had been previously issued in 1594, 1596, and 1607,
by different owners. It would seem that Smythick, in 1631, issued the
Quarto of « The Shreiv ' instead of ' A Shreiv,' the copyright of which he
had secured.
The Taming of A Shrew, -t, ,, . . , , _. _. .
lhe old original of The Taming of
The Shreiv is extant, and has been often reprinted in modern times (cp,
Steevens' Six Old Plays, I776; The Shakespeare Society's publications, 1844-
Hazlitt's Shakespeare's Library, &c). The play was first published, anony-
mously, in 1594, under the title of « A pleasant conceited Historic, called The
taming of A Shreiv, as it -was sundry times acted by the Earl of Pembrook his
servants' (A specimen of the play will be found at the back of the title-
page of thi6 volume.) Pope actually attributed this crude effort to
Shakespeare himself; Mr Fleay assigns it to Shakespeare and Marlowe
— their joint-production in 1589 — and various similar suggestions have
been made by critics. We know absolutely nothing about its author-
ship, but we may safely assert that it contains no single line from Shake-
speare's pen. It is an important document, though its intrinsic value is
naught. Its affected classicism, its poetic rant, its cheap lyrism, its
strange mixture of hyperbole and bathos, all indicate that the play was
the work of some poetaster of the pseudo-Marlowan school, writing about
the year 1590-2.
Preface THE TAMING
The Date of Shakespeare's Adaptation. The Taming of
The Shreiv is not mentioned by Meres in 1598 ; unless, as seems unlikely,
it is to be identified with Love's Labour Won. Nevertheless the internal
evidence points to an early date. Mr Stokes contends that even 'as far
back as May 1594, The Taming of a Shreiv was believed to be Shakespeare's
in some sense' (cp. Chronology of Shakespeare's Plays, pp. 33-35).
Its omission by Meres is not very singular, when the possible history
of Shakespeare's connexion with his original is considered.* It is very
possible that an enlarged version of the play once existed intermediate
between ' A Shreiv' and the play as we have it in First Folio; Shake-
speare in fact seems mainly answerable for the revision of the Induction
and scenes in which Katherina, Petruchio, and Grumio are the pro-
minent figures. The intermediate adapter knew his Marlowe well; no
less than ten Marlowan reminiscences may be detected in the non-
Shakespearian portion of ' The Shreiv.'
These considerations make it difficult to assign a date to the play ; on
the one hand, there are the alleged non-Shakespearian portions of the
play ; on the other, Shakespeare's own work belonging to different
periods. The style and versification of the more characteristic parts
point to about 1597, while the doggerel and quibbles suggest an early
date.
At one time we are reminded of Adriana, Luciana, and the Dromios of
The Comedy of Errors ; at another, of Hotspur, Kate, and FalstafF of Henry
iy.\ Hence the play is dated by some 1594, by others 1596-7; while
certain critics assign it to the years 1601-3. (It is perhaps significant
that Dekker's Patient Grissel was produced in 1597, and his Medicine for a
Curst Wife soon after (published in 1602J.
Shakespeare's Share in the Play. As regards the Induction,
opinion is divided ; but a careful comparison of the two versions leaves
little doubt that the revision was Shakespeare's. Act I. is almost un-
* Meres mentions King John, though also an adaptation of an older play; but the
re-cast of his original was altogether of a different nature than in the case of ' The
Shreiv' One should note, too, the mention of Titus, and the omission of 1, 2, 3
Henry VI.
t The only valuable piece of internal evidence puts us in the same dilemma : in the
First Scene of the Induction, line 88 is assigned to ' Sinklo,' in the Folio; 'Sinklo'
acted in 3 Henry VI., an early play, and 2 Henry IV. (c. 1597, 8) : in the former his
name appears instead of 'a keeper' ; in the latter instead of ' a beadle.'
[' Nicke,' the messenger, mentioned in Act i. 1, probably stands for Nicholas Tooley,
one of the actors in Shakespeare's company ; but nothing is to be inferred from this
point.]
OF THE SHREW Preface
animously assigned to the unknown adapter. Act II. i. is only partly
Shakespeare's; the Shakespearian portion has been variously assigned:
II. 169-326; 115-326, with the omission of 11. 241-254; 115-326. Act
III. i. may be safely pronounced non-Shakespearian. Act III. ii. is
claimed for Shakespeare, with the exception of 11. 130-150, or possibly of
11. 1-88, 126-185. Act IV. i- iii- v- are throughout Shakespeare's, while
Act IV. ii. iv., Act V. i. are similarly throughout non-Shakespearian.
Act V. ii. 1-175 (or I-I^I)> certainly Shakespeare's. (Cp. Fleay's Shake-
speare Manual, p. 1 85 ; Furnivall, Trans. Neiv Shakespeare Society, 1 874;
Tolman, Modern Language Association of America, I 890.)
' The Shrew ' and ' A Shrew ' : some noteworthy Varia-
tions, (i.) The old play has been thoroughly transformed as far as
diction and characterisation is concerned, though the plot has been on
the whole faithfully followed, (ii.) The part of Sly has been consider-
ably curtailed in ' The Shreiv';* in the original we are throughout
reminded of his existence, and he is disposed of at the end of the play: —
"Then enter two bearing off Sly in his own apparell again, and leave
him where they found him, and then goe out. Then enter the Tapster."
An amusing colloquy follows. Sly explains that he has had ' the
bravest dream that ever thou heardest in all thy life,' is'c. (iii.) Further,
the scene of action has been changed from 'Athens' to 'Padua.' (iv.)
The vulgar and mercenary tyrant ' Ferardo ' has given place to the
' whimsical and boisterous affectations of the good-natured Petruchio.'
(v.) Kate in 'A Shreiv' has two sisters, Philema and Emilia, represented
by Bianca (and the widow whom Hortensio ultimately weds) in ' The
Shreiv.' (vi.) The plot of the old play has been rendered more complex
by the addition of a comedy of intrigue — viz., the story of Bianca and
Lucentio.
The Sources, (i.) The Induction. The idea of the Induction
is thoroughly oriental, and is familiar to readers of the ' Arabian Nights,'
whence it probably passed into European literature. It is said that a
similar incident actually took place at the marriage of Duke Phillip the
Good of Burgundy, about the year 1440. Perhaps the good Duke Phillip
was wishful to emulate the example of the good Caliph Haroun Al Ras-
chid. The pedigree of the chief English versions of this world-wide
story, dramatised by Chalderon in his 'La Vida es Sueno' {'Life's a
* From an artistic point of view, Sly's comments at the end of Act I. i. seem quite
out of place, and are certainly not Shakespeare's.
Preface
THE TAMING
Dream,' c. 1633), probably from Rojas' ' Viaje Entretenido,' is perhaps as
follows : —
The Arabian Nights : ' The Sleeper Aivakened.'
I
Heuterus tie Rebus Burgundicis (from an Epistle of Ludovicus fives).
English Version in Richard Edivard's
Collection of Tales (1570, and later).
Induction : A Shreiv.
Induction : The Shreiv.
Barklei/s Discourse on
The E elicit ie of Man
(IS98).
Burton s Anatomy (f
Melancholy ( 1 62 1 ).
Ballad of The
Frolicsome Duie,
or the Tinker's
Good Fortune Goulart's Tresor
(Percys d'histoires admirables
Reliques, et marveilleuses
? Date). (c. 1600).
I
English Version by
G rims ton (1607).
(ii.) The Main Plot. The nearest analogue in Elizabethan litera-
ture to The Taming of the Shretu is to be found in a popular poem
entitled, ' A Merry Geste of a Shreivd and Curst Wife lapped in Morrelles
Skin'* (before 1 575), but this poem cannot be considered the direct source
of the play. Several similar stories are to be found in Italian literature ;
perhaps the most noteworthy is to be found in the Notte piacevoli of
Straparolo, VIII. 2 (published in 1550).
(iii.) The Under Plot. The story of Bianca and her lovers was
taken directly from Acts IV. and V. of Gascoigne's Supposes (an English
version of Ariosto's Gli Suppositi), the first English prose comedy, acted
at Gray's Inn, 1566.!
(iv.) The Latin Lesson. This element (Act III. i.) may have
been suggested by a passage in an old play, The Three Lords and Three
Ladies of London, printed 1590 (Hazlitt's Dodsley's Old Plays, VI. 500).
* Printed, together with the Taming of A Shreiv, in the (old) Shakespeare's
Society's publication.
t From this same source, too, the name ' Petruchio ' was, perhaps, derived.
OF THE SHREW Preface
The Duration of Action. According to Mr Daniel's analysis,
five or six days are repres»nted on the stage, with intervals, which
amount to something under a fortnight.
Day i. Act I. Day 2. Act II. Interval of a day or two. Petruchio
proposes to go to Venice to buy apparel. Day 3. Act III. i. Saturday,
eve of the wedding. Day 4. Act HI. ii.; Act IV. i. Sunday, the
wedding-day. Interval (?). Day 5. Act IV. ii. Interval (?). Day 6.
Act IV. iii., iv., v., and Act V. (? The second Sunday).
Possibly Acts I. and II. should be considered as one day. "Time,
however," adds Mr Daniel, " in this play is a very slippery element,
difficult to fix in any completely consistent scheme. In the old play
the whole story is knit up in the course of two days." (Trans, of
Nciv Shakespeare Society, 1877-79, P* '68).
The Tamer Tamed. Fletcher attempted a companion picture to
the ' Taming of the Shreiv' in his ' Woman's Prize, or the Tamer Tamea"
(written before 1633); in this play we are introduced to our old friend
Petruchio again, but Katharina is dead and 'eke her patience,' and in
her place we are introduced to her successor, Maria, the ' masculine '
daughter of Petronius, who tries a process of taming on her own
account, aided by faithful allies, to wit, her sister Livia, her cousin
and 'Commander-in-chief Bianca, 'city wives,' 'county wives,' &c.
In the end Petruchio confesses himself, in more senses than one, ' born
again,' and the Epilogue sums up as follows : —
• The Tamer's Tamed ; but so, as nor the men
Can find one just cause to complain of, when
They fitly do consider, in their lives
They should not reign as tyrants o'er their wives
Nor can the women from this precedent
Insult, or triumph ; it being aptly meant,
To teach both sexes due equality,
And as they stand bound to love mutually.
1/ this effect arising from a cause
Well laid and grounded may deserve applause,
We something more than hope our honest ends
Will keep the men, and women too, ourfiriends.'
DRAMATIS PERSONS.
A L°rd- ) Persons in the
Christopher Sly, a tinker. t T , ..
' Induction.
Hostess, Page, Players, Huntsmen and Servants. J
BapTISTA, a rich gentleman oj Padua.
VlNCENTIO, an old gentleman of Pisa.
LuCENTIO, son to Vincentio, in love -with Bianca.
PeTRUCHIO, a gentleman of Verona, a suitor to Katharina.
GREMIO, ) .
TT > suitors to Bianca.
Hortensio, )
Tranio,
, servants to Lucentio
BlONDELLO,
Grumio, "I „ _, , .
_ \ servants to retrucnio,
Curtis, j
A Pedant.
Katharina, the shrew, "l , ,. . _ ... .
\ daughters to naptista.
Bianca, j & r
Widow.
Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants attending on Baptista
and Petruchio.
Scenf : Padua, and Petruchws country house.
The Taming of the Shrew.
INDUCTION.
Scene I.
Before an alehouse on a heath.
Enter Hostess and Sly.
Sly. I '11 pheeze you, in faith.
Host. A pair of stocks, you rogue !
Sly. Y' are a baggage : the Slys are no rogues ; look
in the chronicles ; we came in with Richard
Conqueror. Therefore paucas pallabris ; let the
world slide : sessa !
Host. You will not pay for the glasses you have
burst ?
Sly. No, not a denier. Go by, Jeronimy : go to thy
cold bed, and warm thee. io
Host. I know my remedy ; I must go fetch the
thirdborough. [Exit.
Sly. Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll answer
him by law : I '11 not budge an inch, boy : let
him come, and kindly. [Ealls asleep
Horns winded. Enter a Lord from hunting, luith his train.
Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds :
Brach Merriman, the poor cur is emboss'd ;
And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd brach.
Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good
At the hedge-corner, in the coldest fault ? 20
Induction. Sc. i. THE TAMING
I would not lose the dog for twenty pound.
First Him. Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord ;
He cried upon it at the merest loss,
And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent :
Trust me, I take him for the better dog.
Lord. Thou art a fool : if Echo were as fleet,
I would esteem him worth a dozen such.
But sup them well and look unto them all :
To-morrow I intend to hunt again.
First Hun. I will, my lord. 30
Lord. What 's here ? one dead, or drunk ? See, doth
he breathe ?
Sec. Him. He breathes, my lord. Were he not warm'd
with ale,
This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly.
Lord. O monstrous beast ! how like a swine he lies !
Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image !
Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man.
What think you, if he were convey'd to bed,
Wrapp'd in sweet clothes, rings put upon his fingers,
A most delicious banquet by his bed,
And brave attendants near him when he wakes, 40
Would not the beggar then forget himself?
First Hun. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose.
Sec. Hun. It would seem strange unto him when he waked.
Lord. Even as a flattering dream or worthless fancy.
Then take him up and manage well the jest :
Carry him gently to my fairest chamber
And hang it round with all my wanton pictures :
Balm his foul head in warm distilled waters
And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet :
Procure me music ready when he wakes, 5°
OF THE SHREW Induction. Sc. i.
To make a dulcet and a heavenly sound ;
And if he chance to speak, be ready straight
And with a low submissive reverence
Say ' What is it your honour will command ? '
Let one attend him with a silver basin
Full of rose-water and bestrew'd with flowers ;
Another bear the ewer, the third a diaper,
And say ' Will 't please your lordship cool your hands ? '
Some one be ready with a costly suit,
And ask him what apparel he will wear ; 60
Another tell him of his hounds and horse,
And that his lady mourns at his disease :
Persuade him that he hath been lunatic ;
And when he says he is, say that he dreams,
For he is nothing but a mighty lord.
This do and do it kindly, gentle sirs ;
It will be pastime passing excellent,
If it be husbanded with modesty.
First Hun. My lord, I warrant you we will play our part,
As he shall think by our true diligence 70
He is no less than what we say he is.
Lord. Take him up gently and to bed with him ;
And each one to his office when he wakes.
[Some bear out Sly. A trumpet sounds.
Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds :
[Exit Servingman.
Belike, some noble gentleman that means,
Travelling some journey, to repose him here.
Re-enter Servingman.
How now ! who is it ?
Serv. An 't please your honour, players
Induction. Sc. i. THE TAMING
That offer service to your lordship.
Lord. Bid them come near.
Enter Players.
Now, fellows, you are welcome.
Players. We thank your honour. 80
Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to-night ?
A Player. So please your lordship to accept our duty.
Lord. With all my heart. This fellow I remember,
Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son :
'Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman so well :
I have forgot your name ; but, sure, that part
Was aptly fitted and naturally perform'd.
A Player. I think 'twas Soto that your honour means.
Lord. 'Tis very true : thou didst it excellent.
Well, you are come to me in happy time ; 90
The rather for I have some sport in hand
Wherein your cunning can assist me much.
There is a lord will hear you play to-night :
But I am doubtful of your modesties ;
Lest over-eyeing of his odd behaviour, —
For yet his honour never heard a play, —
You break into some merry passion
And so offend him ; for I tell you, sirs,
If you should smile he grows impatient.
A Player. Fear not, my lord : we can contain ourselves,
Were he the veriest antic in the world. 101
Lord. Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery,
And give them friendly welcome every one :
Let them want nothing that my house affords.
[Exit one ivith the Players.
Sirrah, go you to Barthol'mew my page,
OF THE SHREW Induction. Sc. i.
And see him dress'd in all suits like a lady :
That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber ;
And call him ' madam,' do him obeisance.
Tell him from me, as he will win my love,
He bear himself with honourable action, no
Such as he hath observed in noble ladies
Unto their lords, by them accomplished :
Such duty to the drunkard let him do
With soft low tongue and lowly courtesy,
And say, ' What is 't your honour will command,
Wherein your lady and your humble wife
May show her duty and make known her love ? '
And then with kind embracements, tempting kisses,
And with declining head into his bosom,
Bid him shed tears, as being overjoy'd 120
To see her noble lord restored to health,
Who for this seven years hath esteemed him
No better than a poor and loathsome beggar :
And if the boy have not a woman's gift
To rain a shower of commanded tears,
An onion will do well for such a shift,
Which in a napkin being close convey'd
Shall in despite enforce a watery eye.
See this dispatch'd with all the haste thou canst :
Anon I'll give thee more instructions. I go
[Exit a Servingman.
I know the boy will well usurp the grace,
Voice, gait and action of a gentlewoman :
I long to hear him call the drunkard husband,
And how my men will stay themselves from laughter
When they do homage to this simple peasant.
I '11 in to counsel them ; haply my presence
Induction. Sc. ii. THE TAMING
May well abate the over-merry spleen
Which otherwise would grow into extremes. [Exeunt.
Scene II.
A bedchamber in the Lord's house.
Enter aloft Sly, ivith Attendants ; some with apparel, others
with basin and ewer and other appurtenances, and Lord.
Sly. For God's sake, a pot of small ale.
First Serv. Will 't please your lordship drink a cup of sack ?
Sec. Serv. Will 't please your honour taste of these
conserves ?
Third Serv. What raiment will your honour wear to-day ?
Sly. I am Christophero Sly; call not me 'honour'
nor ' lordship ' : I ne'er drank sack in my life ;
and if you give me any conserves, give me
conserves of beef; ne'er ask me what raiment
I '11 wear ; for I have no more doublets than
backs, no more stockings than legs, nor no more io
shoes than feet ; nay, sometime more feet than
shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through
the overleather.
Lord. Heaven cease this idle humour in your honour !
O, that a mighty man of such descent,
Of such possessions and so high esteem,
Should be infused with so foul a spirit !
Sly. What, would you make me mad ? Am not I
Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Burton-heath,
by birth a pedlar, by education a card-maker, 20
by transmutation a bear-herd, and now by
present profession a tinker ? Ask Marian
Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if she
OF THE SHREW Induction. Sc. ii.
know me not: if she say I am not fourteen
pence on the score for sheer ale, score me up
for the lyingest knave in Christendom. What !
I am not bestraught : here 's —
Third Serv. O, this it is that makes your lady mourn !
Sec. Serv. O, this is it that makes your servants droop !
Lord. Hence comes it that your kindred shuns your
house, 3°
As beaten hence by your strange lunacy.
O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth,
Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment,
And banish hence these abject lowly dreams.
Look how thy servants do attend on thee,
Each in his office ready at thy beck.
Wilt thou have music ? hark ! Apollo plays, [Music.
And twenty caged nightingales do sing :
Or wilt thou sleep ? we '11 have thee to a couch
Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed 40
On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis.
Say thou wilt walk ; we will bestrew the ground :
Or wilt thou ride? thy horses shall be trapp'd,
Their harness studded all with gold and pearl.
Dost thou love hawking ? thou hast hawks will soar
Above the morning lark : or wilt thou hunt ?
Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them,
And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth.
First Serv. Say thou wilt course ; thy greyhounds are as
swift
As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe. 50
Sec. Serv. Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch thee
straight
Adonis painted by a running brook,
Induction. Sc. ii. THE TAMING
And Cytherea all in sedges hid,
Which seem to move and wanton with her breath,
Even as the waving sedges play with wind.
Lord. We '11 show thee Io as she was a maid
And how she was beguiled and surprised,
As lively painted as the deed was done.
Third Serv. Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood,
Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds,
And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep, 6 1
So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn.
Lord. Thou art a lord and nothing but a lord :
Thou hast a lady far more beautiful
Than any woman in this waning age.
First Serv. And till the tears that she hath shed for thee
Like envious floods o'er-run her lovely face,
She was the fairest creature in the world ;
And yet she is inferior to none.
S/y. Am I a lord ? and have I such a lady ? 7°
Or do I dream ? or have I dream'd till now ?
I do not sleep : I see, I hear, I speak ;
I smell sweet savours and I feel soft things :
Upon my life, I am a lord indeed,
And not a tinker nor Christophero Sly.
Well, bring our lady hither to our sight ;
And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale.
Sec. Serv. Will 't please your mightiness to wash your
hands ?
O, how we joy to see your wit restored !
O, that once more you knew but what you are ! 8o
These fifteen years you have been in a dream ;
Or when you waked, so waked as if you slept.
S/y. These fifteen years ! by my fay, a goodly nap.
OF THE SHREW Induction. Sc. ii.
But did I never speak of all that time ?
First Serv. O, yes, my lord, but very idle words :
For though you lay here in this goodly chamber,
Yet would you say ye were beaten out of door ;
And rail upon the hostess of the house ;
And say you would present her at the leet,
Because she brought stone jugs and no seal'd quarts :
Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket. 91
Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the house.
Third Serv. Why, sir, you know no house nor no such
maid,
Nor no such men as you have reckon'd up,
As Stephen Sly and old John Naps of Greece
And Peter Turph and Henry Pimpernell
And twenty more such names and men as these
Which never were nor no man ever saw.
S/y. Now Lord be thanked for my good amends !
All. Amen. 1 00
Sly. I thank thee : thou shalt not lose by it.
Enter the Page as a lady, attended.
Page. How fares my noble lord ?
Sly. Marry, I fare well ; for here is cheer enough.
Where is my wife ?
Page. Here, noble lord : what is thy will with her ?
Sly. Are you my wife and will not call me husband ?
My men should call me ' lord ' : I am your good-
man.
Page. My husband and my lord, my lord and husband ;
I am your wife in all obedience.
Sly. I know it well. What must I call her? no
Lord. Madam.
3<2
Induction. Sc. ii. THE TAMING
Sly. Al'ce madam, or Joan madam ?
Lord. ' Madam ' and nothing else : so lords call ladies.
S/y. Madam wife, they say that I have dream'd
And slept above some fifteen year or more.
Page. Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me,
Being all this time abandon'd from your bed.
Sly. 'Tis much. Servants, leave me and her alone.
Madam, undress you and come now to bed.
Page. Thrice-noble lord, let me entreat of you 120
To pardon me yet for a night or two ;
Or, if not so, until the sun be set :
For your physicians have expressly charged,
In peril to incur your former malady,
That I should yet absent me from your bed :
I hope this reason stands for my excuse.
Sly. Ay, it stands so that I may hardly tarry so long.
But I would be loath to fall into my dreams
again : I will therefore tarry in despite of the
flesh and the blood. 1 30
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. Your honour's players, hearing your amendment,
Are come to play a pleasant comedy ;
For so your doctors hold it very meet,
Seeing too much sadness hath congeal'd your blood,
And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy :
Therefore they thought it good you hear a play
And frame your mind to mirth and merriment,
Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life.
Sly. Marry, I will, let them play it. Is not a comonty
a Christmas gambold or a tumbling-trick ? 140
Page. No, my good lord ; it is more pleasing stuff.
OF THE SHREW Act I. Sc. i.
Sly. What, household stuff?
Page. It is a kind of history.
Sly. Well, we'll see't. Come, madam wife, sit by
my side and let the world slip : we shall ne'er
be younger.
Flourish.
ACT FIRST.
Scene I.
Padua. A public place.
Enter Lucent io and his man Tranio.
mc. Tranio, since for the great desire I had
To see fair Padua, nursery of arts,
I am arrived for fruitful Lombardy,
The pleasant garden of great Italy ;
And by my father's love and leave am arm'd
With his good will and thy good company,
My trusty servant, well approved in all,
Here let us breathe and haply institute
A course of learning and ingenious studies.
Pisa renowned for grave citizens io
Gave me my being and my father first,
A merchant of great traffic through the world,
Vincentio, come of the Bentivolii.
Vincentio's son brought up in Florence
It shall become to serve all hopes conceived,
To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds :
And therefore, Tranio, for the time I study,
Virtue and that part of philosophy
Will I apply that treats of happiness
Act I. Sc. i. THE TAMING
By virtue specially to be achieved. 20
Tell me thy mind ; for I have Pisa left
And am to Padua come, as he that leaves
A shallow plash to plunge him in the deep,
And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst.
Tra. Mi perdonato, gentle master mine,
I am in all affected as yourself;
Glad that you thus continue your resolve
To suck the sweets of sweet philosophy.
Only, good master, while we do admire
This virtue and this moral discipline, 30
Let 's be no stoics nor no stocks, I pray ;
Or so devote to Aristotle's checks
As Ovid be an outcast quite abjured :
Balk logic with acquaintance that you have,
And practise rhetoric in your common talk •,
Music and poesy use to quicken you ;
The mathematics and the metaphysics,
Fall to them as you find your stomach serves you
No profit grows where is no pleasure ta'en :
In brief, sir, study what you most affect. 40
Luc. Gramercies, Tranio, well dost thou advise.
If, Biondello, thou wert come ashore,
We could at once put us in readiness,
And take a lodging fit to entertain
Such friends as time in Padua shall beget.
But stay a while : what company is this ?
Tra. Master, some show to welcome us to town.
Enter Baptista, Katharina, Bianca, Gremio, and Hortcnsio.
Litcentio atid Tranio stand by.
Bap. Gentlemen, importune me no farther,
OF THE SHREW Act I. Sc. i.
For how I firmly am resolved you know ;
That is, not to bestow my youngest daughter 5°
Before I have a husband for the elder :
If either of you both love Katharina,
Because I know you well and love you well,
Leave shall you have to court her at your pleasure.
Gre. [Aside] To cart her rather : she 's too rough for me.
There, there, Hortensio, will you any wife ?
Kath. I pray you, sir, is it your will
To make a stale of me amongst these mates ?
Hor. Mates, maid! how mean you that ? no mates for you,
Unless you were of gentler, milder mould. 60
Kath. V faith, sir, you shall never need to fear :
I wis it is not half way to her heart ;
But if it were, doubt not her care should be
To comb your noddle with a three-legg'd stool
And paint your face and use you like a fool.
Hor. From all such devils, good Lord deliver us !
Gre. And me too, Good Lord !
Tra. Husht, master ! here 's some good pastime toward :
That wench is stark mad or wonderful froward.
Luc. But in the other's silence do I see 70
Maid's mild behaviour and sobriety.
Peace, Tranio !
Tra. Well said, master ; mum ! and gaze your fill.
Bap. Gentlemen, that I may soon make good
What I have said, Bianca, get you in :
And let it not displease thee, good Bianca,
For I will love thee ne'er the less, my girl.
Kath. A pretty peat ! it is best
Put finger in the eye, an she knew why.
Bian. Sister, content you in my discontent. 80
Act I. Sc. i. THE TAMING
Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe :
My books and instruments shall be my company,
On them to look and practise by myself.
Luc. Hark, Tranio ! thou may'st hear Minerva speak.
Hor. Signior Baptista, will you be so strange ?
Sorry am I that our good will effects
Bianca's grief.
Gre. Why will you mew her up,
Signior Baptista, for this fiend of hell,
And make her bear the penance of her tongue ?
Bap. Gentlemen, content ye ; I am resolved : 90
Go in, Bianca : [Exit Bianca.
And for I know she taketh most delight
In music, instruments and poetry,
Schoolmasters will I keep within my house,
Fit to instruct her youth. If you, Hortensio,
Or Signior Gremio, you, know any such,
Prefer them hither ; for to cunning men
I will be very kind, and liberal
To mine own children in good bringing-up :
And so farewell. Katharina, you may stay ; 100
For I have more to commune with Bianca. [Exit.
Kath. Why, and I trust I may go too, may I not ?
What, shall I be appointed hours ; as though,
belike, I knew not what to take, and what to
leave, ha ? [Exit.
Gre. You may go to the devil's dam : your gifts are
so good, here 's none will hold you. Their love
is not so great, Hortensio, but we may blow our
nails together, and fast it fairly out : our cake's
dough on both sides. Farewell : yet, for the
love I bear my sweet Bianca, if I can by any
OF THE SHREW Act I. Sc. i.
means light on a fit man to teach her that
wherein she delights, I will wish him to her
father.
Hor. So will I, Signior Gremio : but a word, I pray.
Though the nature of our quarrel yet never
brooked parle, know now, upon advice, it
toucheth us both, that we may yet again have
access to our fair mistress, and be happy rivals
in Bianca's love, to labour and effect one thing 120
specially.
Gre. What 's that, I pray ?
Hor. Marry, sir, to get a husband for her sister.
Gre. A husband ! a devil.
Hor. I say, a husband.
Gre. I say, a devil. Thinkest thou, Hortensio, though
her father be very rich, any man is so very a fool
to be married to hell ?
Hor. Tush, Gremio, though it pass your patience and
mine to endure her loud alarums, why, man, 1 30
there be good fellows in the world, an a man
could light on them, would take her with all
faults, and money enough.
Gre. I cannot tell ; but I had as lief take her dowry
with this condition, to be whipped at the high-
cross every morning.
Hor. Faith, as you say, there's small choice in rotten
apples. But come ; since this bar in law makes
us friends, it shall be so far forth friendly main-
tained till by helping Baptista's eldest daughter 140
to a husband we set his youngest free for a
husband, and then have to't afresh. Sweet
Bianca ! Happy man be his dole ! He that
Act I. Sc. i. THE TAMING
runs fastest gets the ring. How say you,
Signior Gremio ?
Gre. I am agreed ; and would I had given him the
best horse in Padua to begin his wooing that
would thoroughly woo her, wed her and bed
her and rid the house of her ! Come on.
[Exeunt Gremio and Hortensio.
Tra. I pray, sir, tell me, is it possible 1 50
That love should of a sudden take such hold !
Luc. O Tranio, till I found it to be true,
I never thought it possible or likely ;
But see, while idly I stood looking on,
I found the effect of love in idleness :
And now in plainness do confess to thee,
That art to me as secret and as dear
As Anna to the Queen of Carthage was,
Tranio, I burn, I pine, I perish, Tranio,
If I achieve not this young modest girl. 160
Counsel me, Tranio, for I know thou canst ;
Assist me, Tranio, for I know thou wilt.
Tra. Master, it is no time to chide you now ;
Affection is not rated from the heart :
If love have touch'd you, nought remains but so,
' Redime te captum quam queas minimo.'
Luc. Gramercies, lad, go forward ; this contents :
The rest will comfort, for thy counsel's sound.
Tra. Master, you look'd so longly on the maid,
Perhaps you mark'd not what 's the pith of all. 170
Luc. O yes, I saw sweet beauty in her face,
Such as the daughter of Agenor had,
That made great Jove to humble him to her hand,
When with his knees he kiss'd the Cretan strond.
OF THE SHREW Act I. Sc. i.
Tra. Saw you no more ? mark'd you not how her sister
Began to scold and raise up such a storm
That mortal ears might hardly endure the din ?
Luc. Tranio, I saw her coral lips to move
And with her breath she did perfume the air :
Sacred and sweet was all I saw in her. 1 80
Tra. Nay, then, 'tis time to stir him from his trance.
I pray, awake, sir: if you love the maid,
Bend thoughts and wits to achieve her. Thus it
stands :
Her elder sister is so curst and shrewd
That till the father rid his hands of her,
Master, your love must live a maid at home ;
And therefore has he closely mew'd her up,
Because she will not be annoy'd with suitors.
Luc. Ah, Tranio, what a cruel father's he !
But art thou not advised, he took some care ipo
To get her cunning schoolmasters to instruct her ?
Tra. Ay, marry, am I, sir -, and now 'tis plotted.
Luc. I have it, Tranio.
Tra. Master, for my hand,
Both our inventions meet and jump in one.
Luc. Tell me thine first.
Tra. You will be schoolmaster
And undertake the teaching of the maid :
That 's your device.
Luc. It is : may it be done ?
Tra. Not possible ; for who shall bear your part,
And be in Padua here Vincentio's son ;
Keep house and ply his book, welcome his friends, 200
Visit his countrymen and banquet them ?
Luc. Basta j content thee, for I have it full.
Act I. Sc. i. THE TAMING
We have not yet been seen in any house,
Nor can we be distinguish'd by our faces
For man or master ; then it follows thus ;
Thou shalt be master, Tranio, in my stead,
Keep house and port and servants, as I should :
I will some other be ; some Florentine,
Some Neapolitan, or meaner man of Pisa.
'Tis hatch'd and shall be so : Tranio, at once 2IO
Uncase thee ; take my colour'd hat and cloak :
When Biondello comes, he waits on thee ;
But I will charm him first to keep his tongue.
Tra. So had you need.
In brief, sir, sith it your pleasure is,
And I am tied to be obedient,
For so your father charged me at our parting ;
' Be serviceable to my son,' quoth he,
Although I think 'twas in another sense ;
I am content to be Lucentio. 220
Because so well I love Lucentio.
Lac. Tranio, be so, because Lucentio loves :
And let me be a slave, to achieve that maid
Whose sudden sight hath thrall'd my wounded eye.
Here comes the rogue.
Etiter Biondello.
Sirrah, where have you been ?
Blon. Where have I been ! Nay, how now ! where
are you ? Master, has my fellow Tranio stolen
your clothes ? Or you stolen his ? or both ?
pray, what's the news?
Luc. Sirrah, come hither : 'tis no time to jest, 230
And therefore frame your manners to the time.
OF THE SHREW Act I. Sc. i.
Your fellow Tranio here, to save my life,
Puts my apparel and my countenance on,
And I for my escape have put on his ;
For in a quarrel since I came ashore
1 kill'd a man and fear I was descried :
Wait you on him, I charge you, as becomes,
While I make way from hence to save my life :
You understand me ?
Bion. I, sir ! ne'er a whit.
Luc. And not a jot of Tranio in your mouth : 240
Tranio is changed into Lucentio.
Bion. The better for him : would I were so too !
Tra. So could I, faith, boy, to have the next wish after,
That Lucentio indeed had Baptista's youngest daughter.
But, sirrah, not for my sake, but your master's I advise
You use your manners discreetly in all kind of com-
panies :
When I am alone, why, then I am Tranio ;
But in all places else your master Lucentio.
Luc. Tranio, let 's go : one thing more rests, that
thyself execute, to make one among these 250
wooers : if thou ask me why, sufficeth, my
reasons are both good and weighty. [Exeunt.
The presenters above speak.
First Serv. My lord, you nod ; you do not mind the play.
S/y. Yes, by Saint Anne, do I. A good matter,
surely : comes there any more of it ?
Page. My lord, 'tis but begun.
Sly. 'Tis a very excellent piece of work, madam
lady : would 'twere done ! [They sit and mark.
Act I. Sc. ii. THE TAMING
Scene II.
Padua. Before Hortensio1 s house.
Enter Petruchio and his wan Grumio.
Pet. Verona, for a while I take my leave,
To see my friends in Padua, but of all
My best beloved and approved friend,
Hortensio ; and I trow this is his house.
Here, sirrah Grumio; knock, I say.
Gru. Knock, sir ! whom should I knock ? is there
any man has rebused your worship ?
Pet. Villain, I say, knock me here soundly.
Gru. Knock you here, sir ! why, sir, what am I,
sir, that I should knock you here, sir? 10
Pet. Villain, I say, knock me at this gate
And rap me well, or I '11 knock your knave's pate.
Gru. My master is grown quarrelsome. I should knock
you first,
And then I know after who comes by the worst.
Pet. Will it not be ?
Faith, sirrah, an you '11 not knock, I '11 ring it ;
I'll try how you can sol, fa, and sing it.
\He wrings him by the ears.
Gru. Help, masters, help ! my master is mad.
Pet. Now, knock when I bid you, sirrah villain !
Enter Hortensio.
Hor. How now ! what 's the matter ? My old 20
friend Grumio ! and my good friend Petruchio !
How do you all at Verona ?
Pet. Signior Hortensio, come you to part the fray ?
' Con tutto il core ben trovato,' may I say.
OF THE SHREW Act I. Sc. ii.
Hot. * Alia nostra casa ben venuto, molto honorato
signor mio Petrucio.'
Rise, Grumio, rise : we will compound this quarrel.
Gru. Nay, 'tis no matter, sir, what he 'leges in Latin.
If this be not a lawful cause for me to leave
his service, look you, sir, he bid me knock him 30
and rap him soundly, sir: well, was it fit for a
servant to use his master so, being perhaps, for
aught I see, two-and-thirty, a pip out ?
Whom would to God I had well knock'd at first,
Then had not Grumio come by the worst.
Pet. A senseless villain ! Good Hortensio,
I bade the rascal knock upon your gate
And could not get him for my heart to do it.
Gru. Knock at the gate ! O heavens ! Spake you
not these words plain, ' Sirrah, knock me 40
here, rap me here, knock me well, and knock
me soundly ' ? And come you now with,
' knocking at the gate ' ?
Pet. Sirrah, be gone, or talk not, I advise you.
Hor. Petruchio, patience ; I am Grumio's pledge :
Why, this's a heavy chance 'twixt him and you,
Your ancient, trusty, pleasant servant Grumio.
And tell me now, sweet friend, what happy gale
Blows you to Padua here from old Verona ?
Pet. Such wind as scatters young men through the
world, 50
To seek their fortunes farther than at home,
Where small experience grows. But in a few,
Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me :
Antonio, my father, is deceased ;
And I have thrust myself into this maze,
Act I. Sc. ii. THE TAMING
Haply to wive and thrive as best I may :
Crowns in my purse I have and goods at home,
And so am come abroad to see the world.
Hot: Petruchio, shall I then come roundly to thee,
And wish thee to a shrewd ill-favour'd wife ? 60
Thou'ldst thank me but a little for my counsel :
And yet I'll promise thee she shall be rich,
And very rich : but thou 'rt too much my friend,
And I '11 not wish thee to her.
Pet. Signior Hortensio, 'twixt such friends as we
Few words suffice ; and therefore, if thou know
One rich enough to be Petruchio's wife,
As wealth is burden of my wooing dance,
Be she as foul as was Florentius' love,
As old as Sibyl, and as curst and shrewd 70
As Socrates' Xanthippe, or a worse,
She moves me not, or not removes, at least,
Affection's edge in me, were she as rough
As are the swelling Adriatic seas :
I come to wive it wealthily in Padua ;
If wealthily, then happily in Padua.
Gru. Nay, look you, sir, he tells you flatly what his
mind is : why, give him gold enough and marry
him to a puppet or an aglet-baby ; or an old trot
with ne'er a tooth in her head, though she have 80
as many diseases as two and fifty horses : why,
nothing comes amiss, so money comes withal.
Hor. Petruchio, since we are stepp'd thus far in,
I will continue that I broach'd in jest.
I can, Petruchio, help thee to a wife
With wealth enough and young and beauteous,
Brought up as best becomes a gentlewoman :
OF THE SHREW Act I. Sc. ii.
Her only fault, and that is faults enough,
Is that she is intolerable curst
And shrewd and froward, so beyond all measure, oo
That, were my state far worser than it is,
I would not wed her for a mine of gold.
Pet. Hortensio, peace ! thou know'st not gold's effect :
Tell me her father's name and 'tis enough ;
For I will board her, though she chide as loud
As thunder when the clouds in autumn crack.
Hor. Her father is Baptista Minola,
An affable and courteous gentleman :
Her name is Katharina Minola,
Renown'd in Padua for her scolding tongue. ioo
Pet. I know her father, though I know not her ;
And he knew my deceased father well.
I will not sleep, Hortensio, till I see her ;
And therefore let me be thus bold with you
To give you over at this first encounter,
Unless you will accompany me thither.
Grit. I pray you, sir, let him go while the humour
lasts. O' my word, an she knew him as well as
I do, she would think scolding would do little
good upon him : she may perhaps call him half I io
a score knaves or so : why, that 's nothing ; an
he begin once, he'll rail in his rope-tricks. I'll
tell you what, sir, an she stand him but a little,
he will throw a figure in her face and so dis-
figure her with it that she shall have no more eyes
to see withal than a cat. You know him not, sir.
Hor. Tarry, Petruchio, I must go with thee •,
For in Baptista's keep my treasure is :
He hath the jewel of my life in hold,
Act I. Sc. li. THE TAMING
His youngest daughter, beautiful Bianca; 1 20
And her withholds from me and other more,
Suitors to her and rivals in my love •,
Supposing it a thing impossible,
For those defects I have before rehearsed,
That ever Katharina will be woo'd ;
Therefore this order hath Baptista ta'en,
That none shall have access unto Bianca
Till Katharine the curst have got a husband.
Gru. Katharine the curst !
A title for a maid of all titles the worst. 130
Hor. Now shall my friend Petruchio do me grace ;
And offer me disguised in sober robes
To old Baptista as a schoolmaster
Well seen in music, to instruct Bianca ;
That so I may, by this device, at least
Have leave and leisure to make love to her,
And unsuspected court her by herself.
Gru. Here 's no knavery ! See, to beguile the old
folks, how the young folks lay their heads to-
gether ! 140
Enter Gretnio and Lucent'io disguised.
Master, master, look about you : who goes there, ha ?
Hor. Peace, Grumio ! it is the rival of my love.
Petruchio, stand by a while.
Gru. A proper stripling and an amorous !
Gre. O, very well ; I have perused the note.
Hark you, sir; I'll have them very fairly bound :
All books of love, see that at any hand ;
And see you read no other lectures to her :
You understand me : over and beside
Signior Baptista's liberality, 1 5°
OF THE SHREW Act I. Sc. ii.
I '11 mend it with a largess. Take your paper too,
And let me have them very well perfumed :
For she is sweeter than perfume itself
To whom they go to. What will you read to her ?
Luc. Whate'er I read to her, I '11 plead for you
As for my patron, stand you so assured,
As firmly as yourself were still in place:
Yea, and perhaps with more successful words
Than you, unless you were a scholar, sir.
Gre. O this learning, what a thing it is ! 1 60
Gru. O this woodcock, what an ass it is !
Pet. Peace, sirrah !
Hor. Grumio, mum ! God save you, Signior Gremio.
Gre. And you are well met, Signior Hortensio.
Trow you whither I am going ? To Baptista Minola.
I promised to inquire carefully
About a schoolmaster for the fair Bianca :
And by good fortune I have lighted well
On this young man, for learning and behaviour
Fit for her turn, well read in poetry 170
And other books, good ones, I warrant ye.
Hor. 'Tis well ; and I have met a gentleman
Hath promised me to help me to another,
A fine musician to instruct our mistress ;
So shall I no whit be behind in duty
To fair Bianca, so beloved of me.
Gre. Beloved of me ; and that my deeds shall prove.
Gru. And that his bags shall prove.
Hor. Gremio, 'tis now no time to vent our love :
Listen to me, and if you speak me fair, 180
I '11 tell you news indifferent good for either.
Here is a gentleman whom by chance I met,
3 R.
Act I. Sc. ii. THE TAMING
Upon agreement from us to his liking,
Will undertake to woo curst Katharine,
Yea, and to marry her, if her dowry please.
Gre. So said, so done, is well.
Hortensio, have you told him all her faults ?
Pet. I know she is an irksome brawling scold :
If that be all, masters, I hear no harm.
Git. No, say'st me so, friend? What countryman? 190
Pet. Born in Verona, old Antonio's son :
My father dead, my fortune lives for me ;
And I do hope good days and long to see.
Gre. O sir, such a life, with such a wife, were strange !
But if you have a stomach, to 't i' God's name :
You shall have me assisting you in all.
But will you woo this wild-cat ?
Pet. Will I live ?
Gru. Will he woo her ? ay, or I'll hang her.
Pet. Why came I hither but to that intent ?
Think you a little din can daunt mine ears ? 200
Have I not in my time heard lions roar ?
Have I not heard the sea pufF'd up with winds
Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat ?
Have I not heard great ordnance in the field,
And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies ?
Have I not in a pitched battle heard
Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' clang ?
And do you tell me of a woman's tongue,
That gives not half so great a blow to hear
As will a chestnut in a farmer's fire ? 210
Tush, tush ! fear boys with bugs.
Qru. For he fears none.
Gre. Hortensio, hark :
OF THE SHREW Act I. Sc. ii.
This gentleman is happily arrived,
My mind presumes, for his own good and ours.
Hor. I promised we would be contributors
And bear his charge of wooing, whatsoe'er.
Gre. And so we will, provided that he win her.
Gru. I would I were as sure of a good dinner.
Enter Tratiio brave, and Bio tide Ho.
Tra. Gentlemen, God save you. If I may be bold,
Tell me, I beseech you, which is the readiest way
To the house of Signior Baptista Minola ? 221
Bion. He that has the two fair daughters : is 't he you
mean ?
Tra. Even he, Biondello.
Gre. Hark you, sir ; you mean not her to —
Tra. Perhaps, him and her, sir : what have you to do ?
Pet. Not her that chides, sir, at any hand, I pray.
Tra. I love no chiders, sir. Biondello, let 's away.
Luc. Well begun, Tranio.
Hor. Sir, a word ere you go ;
Are you a suitor to the maid you talk of, yea or no ?
Tra. And if I be, sir, is it any offence ? 221
Gre. No ; if without more words you will get you hence.
Tra. Why, sir, I pray, are not the streets as free
For me as for you ?
Gre. But so is not she.
Tra. For what reason, I beseech you ?
Gre. For this reason, if you '11 know,
That she 's the choice love of Signior Gremio.
Hor. That she 's the chosen of Signior Hortensio.
Tra. Softly, my masters ! if you be gentlemen,
Do me this right j hear me with patience.
Act I. Sc. ii. THE TAMING
Baptista is a noble gentleman, 240
To whom my father is not all unknown ;
And were his daughter fairer than she is,
She may more suitors have and me for one.
Fair Leda's daughter had a thousand wooers ;
Then well one more may fair Bianca have :
And so she shall ; Lucentio shall make one,
Though Paris came in hope to speed alone.
Gre. What, this gentleman will out-talk us all !
Lac. Sir, give him head : I know he '11 prove a jade.
Pet. Hortensio, to what end are all these words ? 250
Hor. Sir, let me be so bold as ask you,
Did you yet ever see Baptista's daughter ?
Tra. No, sir ; but hear I do that he hath two,
The one as famous for a scolding tongue
As is the other for beauteous modesty.
Pet. Sir, sir, the first 's for me ; let her go by.
Gre. Yea, leave that labour to great Hercules ;
And let it be more than Alcides' twelve.
Pet. Sir, understand you this of me in sooth :
The youngest daughter whom you hearken for 260
Her father keeps from all access of suitors j
And will not promise her to any man
Until the elder sister first be wed :
The younger then is free and not before.
Tra. If it be so, sir, that you are the man
Must stead us all and me amongst the rest ;
And if you break the ice and do this feat,
Achieve the elder, set the younger free
For our access, whose hap shall be to have her
Will not so graceless be to be ingrate. 270
Hor. Sir, you say well and well you do conceive ;
OF THE SHREW Act IL Sc L
And since you do profess to be a suitor,
You must, as we do, gratify this gentleman,
To whom we all rest generally beholding.
Tra. Sir, I shall not be slack : in sign whereof,
Please ye we may contrive this afternoon,
And quaff carouses to our mistress' health,
And do as adversaries do in law,
Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends.
Gru. Bion. O excellent motion ! Fellows, let 's be gone.
Hor. The motion 's good indeed and be it so, 281
Petruchio, I shall be your ben venuto. [Exeunt.
ACT SECOND.
Scene I.
Padua. A room in Bapt'istas house.
Enter Katharina and Bianca.
Blan. Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong yourself,
To make a bondmaid and a slave of me ;
That I disdain ; but for these other gawds,
Unbind my hands, I '11 pull them off myself,
Yea, all my raiment to my petticoat ;
Or what you will command me will I do,
So well I know my duty to my elders.
Kath. Of all thy suitors, here I charge thee, tell
Whom thou lovest best : see thou dissemble not.
Blan. Believe me, sister, of all the men alive 10
I never yet beheld that special face
Which I could fancy more than any other.
Kath. Minion, thou liest. Is 't not Hortensio ?
Blan. If you affect him, sister, here I swear
Act II. Sc. i. THE TAMING
I '11 plead for you myself, but you shall have him.
Kath. O then, belike, you fancy riches more :
You will have Gremio to keep you fair.
Bian. Is it for him you do envy me so ?
Nay then you jest, and now I well perceive
You have but jested with me all this while : 20
I prithee, sister Kate, untie my hands.
Kath. If that be jest, then all the rest was so. [Strikes her.
Enter Baptist a.
Bap. Why, how now, dame ! whence grows this insolence ?
Bianca, stand aside. Poor girl ! she weeps.
Go ply thy needle ; meddle not with her.
For shame, thou hilding of a devilish spirit,
Why dost thou wrong her that did ne'er wrong thee ?
When did she cross thee with a bitter word ?
Kath. Her silence flouts me, and I '11 be revenged.
[Flies after Bianca.
Bap. What, in my sight ? Bianca, get thee in. 30
[Exit Bianca.
Kath. What, will you not suffer me ? Nay, now I see
She is your treasure, she must have a husband ;
I must dance bare-foot on her wedding day
And for your love to her lead apes in hell.
Talk not to me : I will go sit and weep
Till I can find occasion of revenge. [Exit.
Bap. Was ever gentleman thus grieved as I ?
But who comes here ?
Enter Gremio, Lucentio in the habit oj a mean man ; Petruchio,
with Hortensio as a musician ; and Tranio, with Biondello
bearing a lute and books.
Gre. Good morrow, neighbour Baptista.
OF THE SHREW Act II. Sc. i.
Bap. Good morrow, neighbour Gremio. God save 40
you, gentlemen !
Pet. And you, good sir ; Pray, have you not a daughter
Call'd Katharina, fair and virtuous ?
Bap. I have a daughter, sir, called Katharina.
Gre. You are too blunt : go to it orderly.
Pet. You wrong me, Signior Gremio : give me leave.
I am a gentleman of Verona, sir,
That, hearing of her beauty and her wit,
Her affability and bashful modesty,
Her wondrous qualities and mild behaviour, 50
Am bold to show myself a forward guest
Within your house, to make mine eye the witness
Of that report which I so oft have heard.
And, for an entrance to my entertainment,
I do present you with a man of mine,
[Presenting Hortensio.
Cunning in music and the mathematics,
To instruct her fully in those sciences,
Whereof I know she is not ignorant :
Accept of him, or else you do me wrong :
His name is Licio, born in Mantua. 60
Bap. You 're welcome, sir ; and he, for your good sake.
But for my daughter Katharine, this I know,
She is not for your turn, the more my grief.
Pet. I see you do not mean to part with her,
Or else you like not of my company.
Bap. Mistake me not ; I speak but as I find.
Whence are you, sir? what may I call your name?
Pet. Petruchio is my name ; Antonio's son,
A man well known throughout all Italy.
Bap. I know him well : you are welcome for his sake. 70
Act II. Sc. i. THE TAMING
Gre. Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray,
Let us, that are poor petitioners, speak too :
Baccare ! you are marvellous forward.
Pet. O, pardon me, Signior Gremio ; I would fain be doing.
Gre. I doubt it not, sir ; but you will curse your wooing.
Neighbour, this is a gift very grateful, I am sure
of it. To express the like kindness, myself,
that have been more kindly beholding to you
than any, freely give unto you this young scholar
[presenting Lucentio], that hath been long study- 80
ing at Rheims ; as cunning in Greek, Latin,
and other languages, as the other in music and
mathematics : his name is Cambio ; pray, accept
his service.
Bap. A thousand thanks, Signior Gremio. Welcome,
good Cambio. But, gentle sir [To Tra/iio], me-
thinks you walk like a stranger : may I be so
bold to know the cause of your coming ?
Tra. Pardon me, sir, the boldness is mine own ;
That, being a stranger in this city here, 90
Do make myself a suitor to your daughter,
Unto Bianca, fair and virtuous.
Nor is your firm resolve unknown to me,
In the perferment of the eldest sister.
This liberty is all that I request,
That, upon knowledge of my parentage,
I may have welcome 'mongst the rest that woo
And free access and favour as the rest :
And, toward the education of your daughters,
I here bestow a simple instrument, loo
And this small packet of Greek and Latin books :
If you accept them, then their worth is great.
OF THE SHREW Act II. Sc. i.
Bap. Lucentio is your name ; of whence, I pray ?
Tra. Of Pisa, sir ; son to Vincentio.
Bap. A mighty man of Pisa ; by report
I know him well : you are very welcome, sir.
Take you the lute, and you the set of books ;
You shall go see your pupils presently.
Holla, within !
Enter a Servant.
Sirrah, lead these gentlemen
To my daughters •, and tell them both I io
These are their tutors : bid them use them well.
[Exit Servant, luith Luc. and Hor., Bio. following.
We will go walk a little in the orchard,
And then to dinner. You are passing welcome,
And so I pray you all to think yourselves.
Pet. Signior Baptista, my business asketh haste,
And every day I cannot come to woo.
You knew my father well, and in him me,
Left solely heir to all his lands and goods,
Which I have better'd rather than decreased :
Then tell me, if I get your daughter's love, 1 20
What dowry shall I have with her to wife ?
Bap. After my death the one half of my lands,
And in possession twenty thousand crowns.
Pet. And, for that dowry, I'll assure her of
Her widowhood, be it that she survive me,
In all my lands and leases whatsoever :
Let specialties be therefore drawn between us,
That covenants may be kept on either hand.
Bap. Ay, when the special thing is well obtain'd,
That is, her love ; for that is all in all. 130
Act II. Sc. i. THE TAMING
Pet. Why, that is nothing ; for I tell you, father,
1 am as peremptory as she proud-minded ;
And where two raging fires meet together
They do consume the thing that feeds their fury :
Though little fire grows great with little wind,
Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all:
So I to her and so she yields to me ;
For I am rough and woo not like a babe.
Bap. Well mayst thou woo, and happy be thy speed !
But be thou arm'd for some unhappy words. 140
Pet. Ay, to the proof; as mountains are for winds,
That shake not, though they blow perpetually.
Re-enter Hortensio, with his head broke.
Bap. How now, my friend ! why dost thou look so pale ?
Hor. For fear, I promise you, if I look pale.
Bap. What, will my daughter prove a good musician ?
Hor. I think she '11 sooner prove a soldier.
Iron may hold with her, but never lutes.
Bap. Why, then thou canst not break her to the lute ?
Hor. Why, no; for she hath broke the lute to me.
I did but tell her she mistook her frets, 150
And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering ;
When, with a most impatient devilish spirit,
• Frets, call you these ? ' quoth she ; ' I '11 fume
with them ' :
And, with that word, she struck me on the head,
And through the instrument my pate made way ;
And there I stood amazed for a while,
As on a pillory, looking through the lute ;
While she did call me rascal fiddler
And twangling Jack ; with twenty such vile terms,
OF THE SHREW Act II. Sc. i.
As she had studied to misuse me so. 1 60
Pet. Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench ;
I love her ten times more than e'er I did :
O, how I long to have some chat with her !
Bap. Well, go with me and be not so discomfited :
Proceed in practice with my younger daughter ;
She 's apt to learn and thankful for good turns.
Signior Petruchio, will you go with us,
Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you ?
Pet. I pray you do ; I will attend her here,
\Exeunt Baptista, Gremio, Tranio, and Hortensio.
And woo her with some spirit when she comes. 170
Say that she rail ; why then I '11 tell her plain
She sings as sweetly as a nightingale ;
Say that she frown ; I '11 say she looks as clear
As morning roses newly wash'd with dew :
Say she be mute and will not speak a word •,
Then I'll commend her volubility,
And say she uttereth piercing eloquence :
If she do bid me pack, I '11 give her thanks,
As though she bid me stay by her a week :
If she deny to wed, I'll crave the day 180
When I shall ask the banns, and when be married.
But here she comes ; and now, Petruchio, speak.
Enter Katharma.
Good morrow, Kate ; for that 's your name, I hear.
Kath. Well have you heard, but something hard of
hearing :
They call me Katharine that do talk of me.
Pet. You lie, in faith ; for you are call'd plain Kate,
And bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the curst ;
Act II. Sc. i. THE TAMING
But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom,
Kate of Kate-Hall, my super-dainty Kate,
For dainties are all Kates, and therefore, Kate, 190
Take this of me, Kate of my consolation ;
Hearing thy mildness praised in every town,
Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded,
Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs,
Myself am moved to woo thee for my wife.
Kath. Moved ! in good time : let him that moved you
hither.
Remove you hence : I knew you at the first
You were a moveable.
Pet. Why, what 's a moveable ?
Kath. A join'd-stool.
Pet. Thou hast hit it : come, sit on me.
Kath. Asses are made to bear, and so are you. 200
Pet. Women are made to bear, and so are you.
Kath. No such jade as you, if me you mean.
Pet. Alas, good Kate, I will not burden thee !
For, knowing thee to be but young and light, —
Kath. Too light for such a swain as you to catch ;
And yet as heavy as my weight should be.
Pet. Should be ! should — buzz!
Kath. Well ta'en, and like a buzzard.
Pet. O slow-wing'd turtle ! shall a buzzard take thee !
Kath. Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard.
Pet. Come, come, you wasp ; i' faith, you are too angry.
Kath. If I be waspish, best beware my sting. 211
Pet. My remedy is then, to pluck it out.
Kath. Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies.
Pet. Who knows not where a wasp does wear his
sting ? In his tail.
OF THE SHREW Act II. Sc. i.
Kath. In his tongue.
Pet. Whose tongue ?
Kath. Yours, if you talk of tails : and so farewell.
Pet. What, with my tongue in your tail ? nay, come again,
Good Kate ; lama gentleman.
Kath. That I'll try. [She strikes him. 220
Pet. I swear I '11 cuff you, if you strike again.
Kath. So may you lose your arms :
If you strike me, you are no gentleman ;
And if no gentleman, why then no arms.
Pet. A herald, Kate ? O, put me in thy books !
Kath. What is your crest ? a coxcomb ?
Pet. A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen.
Kath. No cock of mine ; you crow too like a craven.
Pet. Nay, come, Kate, come ; you must not look so sour.
Kath. It is my fashion, when I see a crab. 230
Pet. Why, here 's no crab ; and therefore look not sour.
Kath. There is, there is.
Pet. Then show it me.
Kath. Had I a glass, I would.
Pet. What, you mean my face ?
Kath. Well aim'd of such a young one.
Pet. Now, by Saint George, I am too young for you.
Kath. Yet you are wither'd.
Pet. 'Tis with cares. 240
Kath. I care not.
Pet. Nay, hear you, Kate : in sooth you scape not so.
Kath. I chafe you, if I tarry: let me go.
Pet. No, not a whit : I find you passing gentle.
'Twas told me you were rough and coy and sullen,
And now I find report a very liar ;
For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous,
Act II. Sc. i. THE TAMING
But slow in speech, yet sweet as spring-time flowers :
Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look askance,
Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will, 250
Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk,
But thou with mildness entertain'st thy wooers,
With gentle conference, soft and affable.
Why does the world report that Kate doth limp ?
O slanderous world ! Kate like the hazel-twig
Is straight and slender, and as brown in hue
As hazel-nuts and sweeter than the kernels.
O, let me see thee walk : thou dost not halt.
Kath. Go, fool, and whom thou keep'st command.
Pet. Did ever Dian so become a grove. 260
As Kate this chamber with her princely gait ?
O, be thou Dian, and let her be Kate ;
And then let Kate be chaste and Dian sportful !
Kath. Where did you study all this goodly speech ?
Pet. It is extempore, from my mother-wit.
Kath. A witty mother ! witless else her son.
Pet. Am I not wise ?
Kath. Yes ; keep you warm.
Pet. Marry, so I mean, sweet Katharine, in thy bed :
And therefore, setting all this chat aside, 270
Thus in plain terms : your father hath consented
That you shall be my wife ; your dowry 'greed on ;
And, will you, nill you, I will marry you.
Now, Kate, I am a husband for your turn ;
For, by this light, whereby I see thy beauty,
Thy beauty, that doth make me like thee well,
Thou must be married to no man but me ;
For I am he am born to tame you Kate,
And bring you from a wild Kate to a Kate
OF THE SHREW Act II. Sc. i.
Conformable as other household Kates. 280
Here comes your father : never make denial ;
I must and will have Katharine to my wife.
Re-enter Baptista, Gremio, and Tranio.
Bap. Now, Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my
daughter ?
Pet. How but well, sir ? how but well ?
It were impossible I should speed amiss.
Bap. Why, how now, daughter Katharine ! in your
dumps ?
Kath. Call you me daughter ? now, I promise you
You have show'd a tender fatherly regard,
To wish me wed to one half lunatic ;
A mad-cap ruffian and a swearing Jack, 290
That thinks with oaths to face the matter out.
Pet. Father, 'tis thus : yourself and all the world,
That talk'd of her, have talk'd amiss of her :
If she be curst, it is for policy,
For she 's not froward, but modest as the dove ;
She is not hot, but temperate as the morn ;
For patience she will prove a second Grissel,
And Roman Lucrece for her chastity
And to conclude, we have 'greed so well together,
That upon Sunday is the wedding-day. goo
Kath. I'll see thee hang'd on Sunday first.
Gre. Hark, Petruchio ; she says she '11 see thee hang'd
first.
Tra. Is this your speeding ? nay, then, good night our
part !
Pet. Be patient, gentlemen; I choose her for myself:
If she and I be pleased, what 's that to you ?
Act II. Sc. i. THE TAMING
'Tis bargain'd 'twixt us twain, being alone,
That she shall still be curst in company.
I tell you, 'tis incredible to believe
How much she loves me : O, the kindest Kate !
She hung about my neck ; and kiss on kiss 310
She vied so fast, protesting oath on oath,
That in a twink she won me to her love.
O, you are novices ! 'tis a world to see,
How tame, when men and women are alone,
A meacock wretch can make the curstest shrew.
Give me thy hand, Kate : I will unto Venice,
To buy apparel 'gainst the wedding-day.
Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests j
I will be sure my Katharine shall be fine.
Bap. I know not what to say : but give me your hands ;
God send you joy, Petruchio ! 'tis a match. 321
Gre. Tra. Amen, say we : we will be witnesses.
Pet. Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu ;
I will to Venice ; Sunday comes apace
We will have rings, and things, and fine array ;
And, kiss me, Kate, we will be married o' Sunday.
[Exeunt Petruchio and Katharina severally.
Gre. Was ever match clapp'd up so suddenly ?
Bap. Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant's part,
And venture madly on a desperate mart.
Tra. 'Twas a commodity lay fretting by you : 330
'Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas.
Bap. The gain I seek is, quiet in the match.
Gre. No doubt but he hath got a quiet catch.
But now, Baptista, to your younger daughter :
Now is the day we long have looked for :
I am your neighbour, and was suitor first.
OF THE SHREW Act II. Sc. i.
Tra. And I am one that love Bianca more
Than words can witness, or your thoughts can guess.
Gre. Youngling, thou canst not love so dear as I.
Tra. Greybeard, thy love doth freeze.
Gre. But thine doth fry. 340
Skipper, stand back : 'tis age that nourisheth.
Tra. But youth in ladies' eyes that flourisheth.
Bap. Content you, gentlemen : I will compound this strife.
'Tis deeds must win the prize ; and he, of both,
That can assure my daughter greatest dower
Shall have my Bianca's love.
Say, Signior Gremio, what can you assure her ?
Gre. First, as you know, my house within the city
Is richly furnished with plate and gold ;
Basins and ewers to lave her dainty hands ; 35°
My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry ;
In ivory coffers I have stuff'd my crowns ;
In cypress chests my arras counterpoints,
Costly apparel, tents, and canopies,
Fine linen, Turkey cushions boss'd with pearl,
Valance of Venice gold in needlework,
Pewter and brass and all things that belong
To house or housekeeping : then, at my farm
I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail,
Sixscore fat oxen standing in my stalls, 360
And all things answerable to this portion.
Myself am struck in years, I must confess ;
And if I die to-morrow, this is hers,
If whilst I live she will be only mine.
Tra. That ' only ' came well in. Sir, list to me :
I am my father's heir and only son :
If I may have your daughter to my wife,
3 s
Act II. Sc. i. THE TAMING
I '11 leave her houses three or four as good,
Within rich Pisa walls, as any one
Old Signior Gremio has in Padua ; 370
Besides two thousand ducats by the year
Of fruitful land, all which shall be her jointure.
What, have I pinch'd you, Signior Gremio ?
Gre. Two thousand ducats by the year of land !
My land amounts not to so much in all :
That she shall have ; besides an argosy
That now is lying in Marseilles' road.
What, have I choked you with an argosy ?
Tra. Gremio, 'tis known my father hath no less 379
Than three great argosies ; besides two galliasses,
And twelve tight galleys : these I will assure her,
And twice as much, whate'er thou offer'st next.
Gre. Nay, I have ofFer'd all, I have no more ;
And she can have no more than all I have :
If you like me, she shall have me and mine.
Tra. Why, then the maid is mine from all the world,
By your firm promise : Gremio is out-vied.
Bap. I must confess your offer is the best ;
And, let your father make her the assurance,
She is your own ; else, you must pardon me, 390
If you should die before him, where 's her dower ?
Tra. That 's but a cavil : he is old, I young.
Gre. And may not young men die, as well as old ?
Bap. Well, gentlemen,
I am thus resolved : on Sunday next you know
My daughter Katharine is to be married :
Now, on the Sunday following, shall Bianca
Be bride to you, if you make this assurance ;
If not, to Signior Gremio :
OF THE SHREW Act III. Sc. i.
And so, I take my leave, and thank you both. 400
Gre. Adieu, good neighbour. [Exit Baptista.
Now I fear thee not :
Sirrah, young gamester, your father were a fool
To give thee all, and in his waning age
Set foot under thy table : tut, a toy !
An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy. [Exit.
Tra. A vengeance on your crafty wither'd hide !
Yet I have faced it with a card of ten.
'Tis in my head to do my master good :
I see no reason but supposed Lucentio
Must get a father, call'd — supposed Vincentio; 410
And that 's a wonder : fathers commonly
Do get their children ; but in this case of wooing,
A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning.
[Exit.
ACT THIRD.
Scene I.
Padua. Baptista s house.
Enter Lucentio, Hortensio, and Bianca.
Luc. Fiddler, forbear ; you grow too forward, sir :
Have you so soon forgot the entertainment
Her sister Katharine welcomed you withal ?
Hor. But, wrangling pedant, this is
The patroness of heavenly harmony :
Then give me leave to have prerogative ;
And when in music we have spent an hour,
Your lecture shall have leisure for as much.
Luc. Preposterous ass, that never read so far
Act III. Sc. i. THE TAMING
To know the cause why music was ordain'd ! io
Was it not to refresh the mind of man
After his studies or his usual pain ?
Then give me leave to read philosophy,
And while I pause, serve in your harmony.
Hor. Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine.
Bian. Why, gentlemen, you do me double wrong,
To strive for that which resteth in my choice :
I am no breeching scholar in the schools ;
I '11 not be tied to hours nor 'pointed times,
But learn my lessons as I please myself. 20
And to cut off all strife, here sit we down :
Take you your instrument, play you the whiles ;
His lecture will be done ere you have tuned.
Hor. You '11 leave his lecture when I am in tune ?
Luc. That will be never ; tune your instrument.
Bian. Where left we last ?
Luc. Here, madam :
' Hie ibat Simois ; hie est Sigeia tellus ;
Hie steterat Priami regia celsa senis.'
Bian. Construe them. 3°
Luc. ' Hie ibat,' as I told you before, — ' Simois,'
I am Lucentio, — ' hie est,' son unto Vincentio
of Pisa, — ' Sigeia tellus,' disguised thus to get
your love ; — ' Hie steterat,' and that Lucentio
that comes a-wooing, — ' Priami,' is my man
Tranio, — ' regia,' bearing my port, — ' celsa
senis,' that we might beguile the old pantaloon.
Hor. Madam, my instrument's in tune.
Bian. Let's hear. O fie! the treble jars.
Luc. Spit in the hole, man, and tune again. 40
Bian. Now let me see if I can construe it :
OF THE SHREW Act III. Sc. i.
' Hie ibat Simois,' I know you not, — ' hie est
Sigeia tellus,' I trust you not, — ' Hie steterat
Priami,' take heed he hear us not, — ' regia,'
presume not, — ' celsa senis,' despair not.
Hor. Madam, 'tis now in tune.
Luc. All but the base.
Hor. The base is right ; 'tis the base knave that jars.
[Aside] How fiery and forward our pedant is !
Now, for my life, the knave doth court my love :
Pedascule, I '11 watch you better yet. 50
Binn. In time I may believe, yet I mistrust.
Luc. Mistrust is not ; for, sure, iEacides
Was Ajax, call'd so from his grandfather.
Bin/i. I must believe my master ; else, I promise you,
I should be arguing still upon that doubt :
But let it rest. Now, Licio, to you :
Good masters, take it not unkindly, pray,
That I have been thus pleasant with you both.
Hor. You may go walk, and give me leave a while :
My lessons make no music in three parts. 60
Luc. Are you so formal, sir ? well, I must wait,
[Aside] And watch withal ; for, but I be deceived,
Our fine musician groweth amorous.
Hor. Madam, before you touch the instrument,
To learn the order of my fingering,
I must begin with rudiments of art ;
To teach you gamut in a briefer sort,
More pleasant, pithy, and effectual,
Than hath been taught by any of my trade :
And there it is in writing, fairly drawn. 70
Bin/i. Why, I am past my gamut long ago.
Hor. Yet read the gamut of Hortensio.
Act III. Sc. ii. THE TAMING
Bian. [reads] " ' Gamut' I am, the ground of all accord,
' A re,' to plead Hortensio's passion ;
' B mi,' Bianca, take him for thy lord,
' C fa ut,' that loves with all affection :
' D sol re,' one clef, two notes have I :
' E la mi,' show pity, or I die."
Call you this gamut ? tut, I like it not :
Old fashions please me best ; I am not so nice, 80
To change true rules for old inventions.
Enter a Servant.
Serv. Mistress, your father prays you leave your books,
And help to dress your sister's chamber up :
You know to-morrow is the wedding-day.
Bian. Farewell, sweet masters both ; I must be gone.
[Exeunt Bianca and Servant.
Luc. Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to stay. [Exit.
Hor. But I have cause to pry into this pedant :
Methinks he looks as though he were in love :
Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humble,
To cast thy wandering eyes on every stale, 90
Seize thee that list : if once I find thee ranging,
Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing. [Exit.
Scene II.
Padua. Before Baptistas house.
Enter Baptist a, Gremio, Tranio, Katharina, Bianca,
Lucentio} and others, attendants.
Bap. Signior Lucentio [To Tranio], this is the 'pointed day.
That Katharine and Petruchio should be married,
And yet we hear not of our son-in-law.
OF THE SHREW Act III. Sc. ii.
What will be said ? what mockery will it be,
To want the bridegroom when the priest attends
To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage !
What says Lucentio to this shame of ours ?
Kath. No shame but mine : I must forsooth, be forced
To give my hand, opposed against my heart,
Unto a mad-brain rudesby, full of spleen ; io
Who woo'd in haste, and means to wed at leisure.
I told you, I, he was a frantic fool,
Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behaviour :
And, to be noted for a merry man,
He '11 woo a thousand, 'point the day of marriage,
Make friends, invite, and proclaim the banns ;
Yet never means to wed where he hath woo'd.
Now must the world point at poor Katharine,
And say, ' Lo, there is mad Petruchio's wife,
If it would please him come and marry her ! ' 20
Tra. Patience, good Katharine, and Baptista too.
Upon my life, Petruchio means but well,
Whatever fortune stays him from his word :
Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise ;
Though he be merry, yet withal he's honest.
Kath. Would Katharine had never seen him though !
[Exit weeping, followed by Bianco, and others.
Bap. Go, girl ; I cannot blame thee now to weep ;
For such an injury would vex a very saint,
Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour.
Enter Biondello.
Bion. Master, master ! news, old news, and such news 30
as you never heard of!
Bap. Is it new and old too ? how may that be ?
Act III. Sc. ii. THE TAMING
Bion. Why, is it not news, to hear of Petruchio's
coming ?
Bap. Is he come ?
Bion. Why, no, sir.
Bap. What then ?
Bion. He is coming.
Bap. When will he be here ?
Bion. When he stands where I am and sees you there. 40
Tra. But say, what to thine old news ?
Bion. Why, Petruchio is coming in a new hat and
an old jerkin, a pair of old breeches thrice
turned, a pair of boots that have been candle-
cases, one buckled, another laced, an old rusty
sword ta'en out of the town-armoury, with a
broken hilt, and chapeless ; with two broken
points : his horse hipped with an old mothy
saddle and stirrups of no kindred •, besides,
possessed with the glanders and like to mose in 50
the chine ; troubled with the lampass, infected
with the fashions, full of windgalls, sped with
spavins, rayed with the yellows, past cure of the
fives, stark spoiled with the staggers, begnawn
with the bots, swayed in the back and shoulder-
shotten ; near-legged before and with a half-
cheeked bit and a head stall of sheep's leather
which, being restrained to keep him from stumb-
ling, hath been often burst and now repaired with
knots ; one girth six times pieced and a woman's 60
crupper of velure, which hath two letters for her
name fairly set down in studs, and here and there
pieced with pack-thread.
Bap. Who comes with him ?
OF THE SHREW Act III. Sc, ii.
Bion. O, sir, his lackey, for all the world caparisoned
like the horse ; with a linen stock on one leg, and
a kersey boot-hose on the other, gartered with
a red and blue list ; an old hat, and ' the humour
of forty fancies ' pricked in 't for a feather : a
monster, a very monster in apparel, and not like 70
a Christian footboy or a gentleman's lackey.
Tra. 'Tis some odd humour pricks him to this fashion ;
Yet oftentimes he goes but mean-apparell'd.
Bap. I am glad he 's come, howsoe'er he comes.
Bion. Why, sir, he comes not.
Bap. Didst thou not say he comes ?
Bion. Who ? that Petruchio came ?
Bap. Ay, that Petruchio came.
Bion. No, sir ; I say his horse comes, with him on his
back. 80
Bap. Why, that 's all one.
Bion. Nay, by Saint Jamy,
I hold you a penny,
A horse and a man
Is more than one,
And yet not many.
Enter Petruchio and Grumio.
Pet. Come, where be these gallants ? who 's at home ?
Bap. You are welcome, sir.
Pet. And yet I come not well.
Bap. And yet you halt not.
Tra. Not so well apparell'd
As I wish you were. po
Pet. Were it better, I should rush in thus.
But where is Kate ? where is my lovely bride ?
Act III. Sc. ii. THE TAMING
How docs my father ? Gentles, methinks you frown :
And wherefore gaze this goodly company,
As if they saw some wondrous monument,
Some comet or unusual prodigy ?
Bap. Why, sir, you know this is your wedding-day :
First were we sad, fearing you would not come ;
Now sadder, that you come so unprovided.
Fie, doff this habit, shame to your estate, loo
An eye-sore to our solemn festival !
Tra. And tell us, what occasion of import
Hath all so long detain'd you from your wife,
And sent you hither so unlike yourself?
Pet. Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear :
Sufficeth, I am come to keep my word,
Though in some part enforced to digress ;
Which, at more leisure, I will so excuse
As you shall well be satisfied withal.
But where is Kate ? I stay too long from her : no
The morning wears, 'tis time we were at church.
Tra. See not your bride in these unreverent robes :
Go to my chamber ; put on clothes of mine.
Pet. Not I, believe me : thus I '11 visit her.
Bap. But thus, I trust, you will not marry her.
Pet. Good sooth, even thus; therefore ha' done with words:
To me she 's married, not unto my clothes :
Could I repair what she will wear in me,
As I can change these poor accoutrements,
'Twere well for Kate and better for myself. 120
But what a fool am I to chat with you,
When should bid good morrow to my bride,
And seal the title with a lovely kiss !
[Exeunt Petruchio and Grumio.
OF THE SHREW Act III. Sc. ii.
Tra. He hath some meaning in his mad attire :
We will persuade him, be it possible,
To put on better ere he go to church.
Bap. I '11 after him, and see the event of this.
[Exeunt Baptista, Gremio, and attendants.
Tra. But to her love concerneth us to add
Her father's liking : which to bring to pass,
As I before imparted to your worship, igo
I am to get a man, — whate'er he be,
It skills not much, we'll fit him to our turn, —
And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa ;
And make assurance here in Padua
Of greater sums than I have promised.
So shall you quietly enjoy your hope,
And marry sweet Bianca with consent.
Luc. Were it not that my fellow-schoolmaster
Doth watch Bianca's steps so narrowly,
'Twere good, methinks, to steal our marriage ; 140
Which once perform'd, let all the world say no,
I'll keep mine own, despite of all the world.
Tra. That by degrees we mean to look into,
And watch our vantage in this business :
We '11 over-reach the greybeard, Gremio,
The narrow-prying father, Minola,
The quaint musician, amorous Licio ;
All for my master's sake, Lucentio.
Re-enter Gremio.
Signior Gremio, came you from the church ?
Gre. As willingly as e'er I came from school. 150
Tra. And is the bride and bridegroom coming home ?
Gre. A bridegroom say you ? 'tis a groom indeed,
Act III. Sc. ii. THE TAMING
A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall find.
Tra. Curster than she ? why, 'tis impossible.
Gre. Why, he's a devil, a devil, a very fiend.
Tra. Why, she's a devil, a devil, the devil's dam
Gre. Tut, she 's a lamb, a dove, a fool to him !
I '11 tell you, Sir Lucentio : when the priest
Should ask, if Katharine should be his wife,
' Ay, by gogs-wouns,' quoth he ; and swore so loud,
That, all amazed, the priest let fall the book; 161
And, as he stoop'd again to take it up,
This mad-brain'd bridegroom took him such a cuff,
That down fell priest and book, and book and
priest :
' Now take them up,' quoth he, ' if any list.'
Tra. What said the wench when he rose again ?
Gre. Trembled and shook ; for why he stamp'd and swore,
As if the vicar meant to cozen him.
But after many ceremonies done,
He calls for wine : ' A health ! ' quoth he ; as if 170
He had been aboard, carousing to his mates
After a storm : quafF'd off the muscadel,
And threw the sops all in the sexton's face ;
Having no other reason
But that his beard grew thin and hungerly
And seem'd to ask him sops as he was drinking.
This done, he took the bride about the neck
And kiss'd her lips with such a clamorous smack
That at the parting all the church did echo :
And I seeing this came thence for every shame ; 180
And after me, I know, the rout is coming.
Such a mad marriage never was before :
Hark, hark ! I hear the minstrels play. [Music.
OF THE SHREW Act III. Sc. ii.
Re-enter Petrachio, Katharina, Biatica, Baptista, Hortensio,
Grumio, and Tram.
Pet. Gentlemen and friends, I thank you for your pains :
I know you think to dine with me to-day,
And have prepared great store of wedding cheer ?
But so it is, my haste doth call me hence,
And therefore here I mean to take my leave.
Bap. Is 't possible you will away to-night ?
Pet. I must away to-day, before night come : ioo
Make it no wonder ; if you knew my business,
You would entreat me rather go than stay.
And, honest company, I thank you all,
That have beheld me give away myself
To this most patient, sweet, and virtuous wife :
Dine with my father, drink a health to me ;
For I must hence ; and farewell to you all.
Tra. Let us entreat you stay till after dinner.
Pet. It may not be.
Gre. Let me entreat you.
Pet. It cannot be.
Kath. Let me entreat you. 200
Pet. I am content.
Kath. Are you content to stay ?
Pet. I am content you shall entreat me stay ;
But yet not stay, entreat me how you can.
Kath. Now, if you love me, stay.
Pet. Grumio, my horse.
Gru. Ay, sir, they be ready : the oats have eaten the
horses.
Kath. Nay, then,
Do what thou canst, I will not go to-day ;
Act III. Sc. ii. THE TAMING
No, nor to-morrow, not till I please myself.
The door is open, sir ; there lies your way ; 210
You may be jogging whiles your boots are green ;
For me, I'll not be gone till I please myself:
'Tis like you '11 prove a jolly surly groom,
That take it on you at the first so roundly.
Pet. O Kate, content thee ; prithee, be not angry.
Kath. I will be angry : what hast thou to do ?
Father, be quiet : he shall stay my leisure.
Gre. Ay, marry, sir, now it begins to work.
Kath. Gentlemen, forward to the bridal dinner :
I see a woman may be made a fool, 220
If she had not a spirit to resist.
Pet. They shall go forward, Kate, at thy command.
Obey the bride, you that attend on her ;
Go to the feast, revel and domineer,
Carouse full measure to her maidenhead.
Be mad and merry, or go hang yourselves :
But for my bonny Kate, she must with me.
Nay, look not big, nor stamp, nor stare, nor fret ;
I will be master of what is mine own :
She is my goods, my chattels ; she is my house, 230
My household stuff, my field, my barn,
My horse, my ox, my ass, my any thing ;
And here she stands, touch her whoever dare ;
I'll bring mine action on the proudest he
That stops my way in Padua. Grumio,
Draw forth thy weapon, we are beset with thieves ;
Rescue thy mistress, if thou be a man.
Fear not, sweet wench, they shall not touch thee, Kate:
I'll buckler thee against a million.
\ Exeunt Petruchio, Katharina, and Grumio.
OF THE SHREW Act IV. Sc. i.
Bap. Nay, let them go, a couple of quiet ones. 240
Gre. Went they not quickly, I should die with laughing.
Tra. Of all mad matches never was the like.
Luc. Mistress, what 's your opinion of your sister ?
Bian. That, being mad herself, she 's madly mated.
Gre. I warrant him, Petruchio is Kated.
Bap. Neighbours and friends, though bride and bride-
groom wants
For to supply the places at the table,
You know there wants no junkets at the feast.
Lucentio, you shall supply the bridegroom's place ;
And let Bianca take her sister's room. 250
Tra. Shall sweet Bianca practise how to bride it ?
Bap. She shall, Lucentio. Come, gentlemen, let 's go.
[Exeunt.
ACT FOURTH.
Scene I.
Petruchio s country house.
Enter Grumio.
Gru. Fie, fie on all tired jades, on all mad masters,
and all foul ways ! Was ever man so beaten ?
was ever man so rayed? was ever man so weary?
I am sent before to make a fire, and they are
coming after to warm them. Now, were not I a
little pot, and soon hot, my very lips might freeze
to my teeth, my tongue to the roof of my mouth,
my heart in my belly, ere I should come by a fire
to thaw me : but I, with blowing the fire, shall
warm myself; for, considering the weather, a 10
Act IV. Sc. i. THE TAMING
taller man than I will take cold. Holla, ho !
Curtis !
Enter Curtis.
Curt. Who is that calls so coldly ?
Gru. A piece of ice : if thou doubt it, thou mayst
slide from my shoulder to my heel with no
greater a run but my head and my neck. A fire,
good Curtis.
Curt. Is my master and his wife coming, Grumio ?
Gru. O, ay, Curtis, ay : and therefore fire, fire ; cast
on no water. 20
Curt. Is she so hot a shrew as she 's reported ?
Gru. She was, good Curtis, before this frost : but,
thou knowest, winter tames man, woman, and
beast ; for it hath tamed my old master, and my
new mistress, and myself, fellow Curtis.
Curt. Away, you three-inch fool ! I am no beast.
Gru. Am I but three inches ? why, thy horn is a foot;
and so long am I at the least. But wilt thou
make a fire, or shall I complain on thee to our
mistress, whose hand, she being now at hand, 20
thou shalt soon feel, to thy cold comfort, for
being slow in thy hot office ?
Curt. I prithee, good Grumio, tell me, how goes the
world ?
Gru. A cold world, Curtis, in every office but thine ;
and therefore fire : do thy duty, and have thy
duty ; for my master and mistress are almost
frozen to death.
Curt. There's fire ready; and therefore, good Grumio,
the news. 40
OF THE SHREW Act IV. Sc. i.
Gru. Why, ' Jack, boy ! ho ! boy ! ' and as much
news as thou wilt.
Curt. Come, you are so full of cony-catching !
Gru. Why, therefore fire ; for I have caught extreme
cold. Where 's the cook ? is supper ready, the
house trimmed, rushes strewed, cobwebs swept ;
the serving-men in their new fustian, their white
stockings, and every officer his wedding-garment
on ? Be the jacks fair within, the jills fair with-
out, the carpets laid, and every thing in order ? 50
Curt. All ready ; and therefore, I pray thee, news.
Gru. First, know, my horse is tired ; my master and
mistress fallen out.
Curt. How ?
Gru. Out of their saddles into the dirt ; and thereby
hangs a tale.
Curt. Let 's ha 't, good Grumio.
Gru. Lend thine ear.
Curt. Here.
Gru. There. [Strikes him. 60
Curt. This is to feel a tale, not to hear a tale.
Gru. And therefore 'tis called a sensible tale : and this
cuff was but to knock at your ear, and beseech
listening. Now I begin: Imprimis, we came down
a foul hill, my master riding behind my mistress, —
Curt. Both of one horse ?
Gru. What 's that to thee ?
Curt. Why, a horse.
Gru. Tell thou the tale : but hadst thou not crossed
me, thou shouldst have heard how her horse 70
fell and she under her horse ; thou shouldst
have heard in how miry a place, how she was
3 T
Act IV. Sc. i. THE TAMING
bemoiled, how he left her with the horse upon
her, how he beat me because her horse stumbled,
how she waded through the dirt to pluck him
off me, how he swore, how she prayed, that
never prayed before, how I cried, how the horses
ran away, how her bridle was burst, how I lost
my crupper, with many things of worthy memory,
which now shall die in oblivion and thou return 80
unexperienced to thy grave.
Curt. By this reckoning he is more shrew than she.
Gru. Ay ; and that thou and the proudest of you
all shall find when he comes home. But what
talk I of this ? Call forth Nathaniel, Joseph,
Nicholas, Philip, Walter, Sugarsop and the rest :
let their heads be sleekly combed, their blue
coats brushed, and their garters of an indifferent
knit: let them curtsy with their left legs, and not
presume to touch a hair of my master's horse-tail 90
till they kiss their hands. Are they all ready ?
Curt. They are.
Gru. Call them forth.
Curt. Do you hear, ho ? you must meet my master
to countenance my mistress !
Gru. Why, she hath a face of her own.
Curt. Who knows not that ?
Gru. Thou, it seems, that calls for company to
countenance her.
Curt. I call them forth to credit her. 100
Gru. Why, she comes to borrow nothing of them.
Enter four or five serving-men.
Nath. Welcome home, Grumio !
OF THE SHREW Act IV. Sc. i.
Phil. How now, Grumio !
Jos. What, Grumio !
Nich. Fellow Grumio !
Nath. How now, old lad ?
Gru. Welcome, you ; — how now, you ; — what, you ;
— fellow, you ; — and thus much for greeting.
Now, my spruce companions, is all ready, and
all things neat ? I IO
Nath. All things is ready. How near is our master?
Gru. E'en at hand, alighted by this ; and therefore
be not — Cock's passion, silence ! I hear my
master.
Enter Petruchio and Katharina.
Pet. Where be these knaves ? What, no man at door
To hold my stirrup nor to take my horse !
Where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Philip ?
All Serv. Here, here, sir ; here, sir.
Pet. Here, sir ! here, sir ! here, sir ! here, sir !
You logger-headed and unpolish'd grooms ! 120
What, no attendance ? no regard ? no duty ?
Where is the foolish knave I sent before ?
Gru. Here, sir, as foolish as I was before.
Pet. You peasant swain ! you whoreson malt-horse drudge !
Did I not bid thee meet me in the park,
And bring along these rascal knaves with thee ?
Gru. Nathaniel's coat, sir, was not fully made,
And Gabriel's pumps were all unpink'd i' the heel ;
There was no link to colour Peter's hat, 1 29
And Walter's dagger was not come from sheathing :
There were none fine but Adam, Ralph, and Gregory ;
The rest were ragged, old, and beggarly ;
Yet, as they are, here are they come to meet you.
Act IV. Sc. i. THE TAMING
Go, rascals, go, and fetch my supper in.
[Exeunt Servants.
[Singing] Where is the life that late I led —
Where are those — Sit down, Kate, and welcome
Soud, soud, soud, soud !
Re-enter Servants with supper.
Why, when, I say ? Nay, good sweet Kate, be
merry.
Off with my boots, you rogues ! you villains, when?
[Sings] It was the friar of orders grey, 140
As he forth walked on his way : —
Out, you rogue ! you pluck my foot awry :
Take that, and mend the plucking off the other.
[Strikes him.
Be merry, Kate. Some water, here ; what, ho !
Where 's my spaniel Troilus ? Sirrah, get you hence,
And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither :
One, Kate, that you must kiss, and be acquainted
with.
Where are my slippers ? Shall I have some water ?
Enter one with water.
Come, Kate, and wash, and welcome heartily.
You whoreson villain ! will you let it fall ! [Strikes him.
Kath. Patience, I pray you; 'twas a fault unwilling. 151
Pet. A whoreson beetle-headed, fiap-ear'd knave !
Come, Kate, sit down ; I know you have a stomach.
Will you give thanks, sweet Kate ; or else shall I ?
What 's this ? mutton ?
OF THE SHREW Act IV. Sc. i.
First Serv. Ay.
pet. Who brought it ?
Peter. ■*■•
Pet. 'Tis burnt ; and so is all the meat.
What dogs are these ! where is the rascal cook ?
How durst you, villains, bring it from the dresser,
And serve it thus to me that love it not ?
There, take it to you, trenchers, cups, and all : 1 60
[Throws the meat, &c. about the stage.
You heedless joltheads and unmanner'd slaves !
What, do you grumble ? I '11 be with you straight.
Kath. I pray you, husband, be not so disquiet :
The meat was well, if you were so contented.
Pet. I tell thee, Kate, 'twas burnt and dried away ;
And I expressly am forbid to touch it,
For it engenders choler, planteth anger ;
And better 'twere that both of us did fast,
Since, of ourselves, ourselves are choleric,
Than feed it with such over-roasted flesh. 170
Be patient; to-morrow 't shall be mended,
And, for this night, we'll fast for company :
Come, I will bring thee to thy bridal chamber.
[Exeunt.
Re-enter Servants severally.
Natk. Peter, didst ever see the like ?
Peter. He kills her in her own humour.
Re-enter Curtis.
Gru. Where is he ?
Curt. In her chamber, making a sermon of continency
to her ;
And rails, and swears, and rates, that she, poor soul,
Act IV. Sc. i. THE TAMING
Knows not which way to stand, to look, to speak,
And sits as one new-risen from a dream. 1 8 1
Away, away ! for he is coming hither. [Exeunt.
Re-enter Petruchlo.
Pet. Thus have I politicly begun my reign,
And 'tis my hope to end successfully.
My falcon now is sharp and passing empty ;
And till she stoop she must not be full-gorged,
For then she never looks upon her lure.
Another way I have to man my haggard,
To make her come and know her keeper's call,
That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites 190
That bate and beat and will not be obedient.
She eat no meat to-day, nor none shall eat ;
Last night she slept not, nor to-night she shall not ;
As with the meat, some undeserved fault
I'll find about the making of the bed ;
And here I'll fling the pillow, there the bolster,
This way the coverlet, another way the sheets :
Ay, and amid this hurly I intend
That all is done in reverend care of her ;
And in conclusion she shall watch all night: 200
And if she chance to nod, I'll rail and brawl,
And with the clamour keep her still awake.
This is a way to kill a wife with kindness ;
And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong humour.
He that knows better how to tame a shrew,
Now let him speak : 'tis charity to show. [Exit.
OF THE SHREW Act IV. Sc. ii.
Scene II.
Padua. Before Baptist as house.
Enter Tranio atul Hortetisio.
Tra. Is't possible, friend Licio, that Mistress Bianca
Doth fancy any other but Lucentio ?
I tell you, sir, she bears me fair in hand.
Hor. Sir, to satisfy you in what I have said,
Stand by and mark the manner of his teaching.
Enter Bianca and Lucentio.
Luc. Now, mistress, profit you in what you read ?
Bian. What, master, read you ? first resolve me that.
Luc. I read that I profess, the Art to Love.
Bian. And may you prove, sir, master of your art ! 9
Luc. While you, sweet dear, prove mistress of my heart !
Hor. Ouick proceeders, marry ! Now, tell me, I pray,
You that durst swear that your mistress Bianca
Loved none in the world so well as Lucentio.
Tra. O despiteful love ! unconstant womankind !
I tell thee, Licio, this is wonderful.
Hor. Mistake no more : I am not Licio,
Nor a musician, as I seem to be ;
But one that scorn to live in this disguise,
For such a one as leaves a gentleman,
And makes a god of such a cullion : 20
Know, sir, that I am call'd Hortensio.
Tra. Signior Hortensio, I have often heard
Of your entire affection to Bianca ;
And since mine eyes are witness of her lightness,
I will with you, if you be so contented,
Forswear Bianca and her love for ever.
Act IV. Sc. ii. THE TAMING
Hor. See, how they kiss and court ! Signior Lucentio,
Here is my hand, and here I firmly vow
Never to woo her more, but do forswear her,
As one unworthy all the former favours 30
That I have fondly flatter'd her withal.
Tra. And here I take the like unfeigned oath,
Never to marry with her though she would entreat :
Fie on her ! see, how beastly she doth court him !
Hor. Would all the world but he had quite forsworn !
For me, that I may surely keep mine oath,
I will be married to a wealthy widow,
Ere three days pass, which hath as long loved me
As I have loved this proud disdainful haggard.
And so farewell, Signior Lucentio. 40
Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks,
Shall win my love : and so I take my leave,
In resolution as I swore before. [Exit.
Tra. Mistress Bianca, bless you with such grace
As 'longeth to a lover's blessed case !
Nay, I have ta'en you napping, gentle love,
And have forsworn you with Hortensio.
Bian. Tranio, you jest : but have you both forsworn me ?
Tra. Mistress, we have.
Luc. Then we are rid of Licio.
Tra. I' faith, he '11 have a lusty widow now, $o
That shall be woo'd and wedded in a day.
Bian. God give him joy.
Tra. Ay, and he '11 tame her.
Bian. He says so, Tranio.
Tra. Faith, he is gone unto the taming-school.
Bian. The taming-school ! what, is there such a place ?
Tra. Ay, mistress, and Petruchio is the master ;
OF THE SHREW Act IV. Sc. ii.
That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long,
To tame a shrew and charm her chattering tongue.
Enter Biondello.
Bion. O master, master, I have watch'd so long
That I am dog-weary ! but at last I spied 60
An ancient angel coming down the hill,
Will serve the turn.
Tra. What is he, Biondello ?
Bion. Master, a mercatante, or a pedant,
I know not what ; but formal in apparel,
In gait and countenance surely like a father.
Luc. And what of him, Tranio ?
Tra. If he be credulous and trust my tale,
I '11 make him glad to seem Vincentio,
And give assurance to Baptista Minola,
As if he were the right Vincentio. 7°
Take in your love, and then let me alone.
[Exeunt Lucentio and Blanca.
Enter a Pedant.
Ped. God save you, sir !
Tra. And you, sir ! you are welcome.
Travel you far on, or are you at the farthest ?
Ped. Sir, at the farthest for a week or two :
But then up farther, and as far as Rome ;
And so to Tripoli, if God lend me life.
Tra. What countryman, I pray ?
Ped. Of Mantua.
Tra. Of Mantua, sir ? marry, God forbid !
And come to Padua, careless of your life ?
Ped. My life, sir ! how, I pray ? for that goes hard. 80
Act IV. Sc. ii. THE TAMING
Tra. 'Tis death for any one in Mantua
To come to Padua. Know you not the cause ?
Your ships are stay'd at Venice ; and the Duke,
For private quarrel 'twixt your duke and him,
Hath publish'd and proclaim'd it openly :
'Tis marvel, but that you are but newly come,
You might have heard it else proclaim'd about.
Ped. Alas, sir, it is worse for me than so !
For I have bills for money by exchange
From Florence, and must here deliver them. 90
Tra. Well, sir, to do you courtesy,
This will I do, and this I will advise you :
First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa ?
Ped. Ay, sir, in Pisa have I often been ;
Pisa renowned for grave citizens.
Tra. Among them know you one Vincentio ?
Ped. I know him not, but I have heard of him ;
A merchant of incomparable wealth.
Tra. He is my father, sir ; and, sooth to say,
In countenance somewhat doth resemble you. loo
Bion. As much as an apple doth an oyster, and all one.
{Aside.
Tra. To save your life in this extremity,
This favour will I do you for his sake ;
And think it not the worst of all your fortunes
That you are like to Sir Vincentio.
His name and credit shall you undertake,
And in my house you shall be friendly lodged :
Look that you take upon you as you should ;
You understand me, sir : so shall you stay
Till you have done your business in the city : no
If this be courtesy, sir, accept of it.
OF THE SHREW Act IV. Sc. iii.
Fed. O sir, I do j and will repute you ever
The patron of my life and liberty.
Tra. Then go with me to make the matter good.
This, by the way, I let you understand ;
My father is here look'd for every day,
To pass assurance of a dower in marriage
'Twixt me and one Baptista's daughter here :
In all these circumstances 1 '11 instruct you :
Go with me to clothe you as becomes you. 120
\_Exewit.
Scene III.
A room in Petruchio s house.
Enter Katharina and Grum'io.
Gru. No, no, forsooth ; I dare not for my life.
Kath. The more my wrong, the more his spite appears :
What, did he marry me to famish me ?
Beggars, that come unto my father's door,
Upon entreaty have a present alms ;
If not, elsewhere they meet with charity :
But I, who never knew how to entreat,
Nor never needed that I should entreat,
Am starved for meat, giddy for lack of sleep ;
With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed : 10
And that which spites me more than all these wants,
He does it under name of perfect love ;
As who should say, if I should sleep or eat,
'Twere deadly sickness or else present death.
I prithee go and get me some repast ;
I care not what, so it be wholesome food.
Gru. What say you to a neat's foot ?
Act IV. Sc. iii. THE TAMING
Kath. 'Tis passing good : I prithee let me have it.
Gru. I fear it is too choleric a meat.
How say you to a fat tripe finely broil'd ? 20
Kath. I like it well ; good Grumio, fetch it me.
Gru. I cannot tell ; I fear 'tis choleric.
What say you to a piece of beef and mustard ?
Kath. A dish that I do love to feed upon.
Gru. Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little.
Kath. Why then, the beef, and let the mustard rest.
Gru. Nay then, I will not: you shall have the mustard,
Or else you get no beef of Grumio.
Kath. Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt.
Gru. Why then, the mustard without the beef. 30
Kath. Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave, [Beats
That feed'st me with the very name of meat : \_him.
Sorrow on thee and all the pack of you
That triumph thus upon my misery !
Go, get thee gone, I say.
Enter Petruchio and Hortensio ivlth meat.
Pet. How fares my Kate ? What, sweeting, all amort ?
Hot. Mistress, what cheer ?
Kath. Faith, as cold as can be.
Pet. Pluck up thy spirits ; look cheerfully upon me.
Here, love ; thou see'st how diligent I am
To dress thy meat myself and bring it thee : 40
I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks.
What, not a word ? Nay, then thou lovest it not ;
And all my pains is sorted to no proof.
Here, take away this dish.
Kath. I pray you, let it stand.
Pet. The poorest service is repaid with thanks ;
OF THE SHREW Act IV. Sc. iii.
And so shall mine, before you touch the meat.
Kath. I thank you, sir.
Hor. Signior Petruchio, fie ! you are to blame.
Come, Mistress Kate, I '11 bear you company.
Pet. Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lovest me. [Aside.
Much good do it unto thy gentle heart ! 5 1
Kate, eat apace : and now, my honey love,
Will we return unto thy father's house,
And revel it as bravely as the best,
With silken coats and caps and golden rings,
With ruffs and cuffs and fardingales and things ;
With scarfs and fans and double change of bravery,
With amber bracelets, beads and all this knavery.
What, hast thou dined ? The tailor stays thy leisure,
To deck thy body with his ruffling treasure. 60
Enter Tailor.
Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments ;
Lay forth the gown.
Enter Haberdasher.
What news with you, sir ?
Hab. Here is the cap your worship did bespeak.
Pet. Why, this was moulded on a porringer ;
A velvet dish : fie, fie ! 'tis lewd and filthy :
Why, 'tis a cockle or a walnut-shell,
A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap :
Away with it ! come, let me have a bigger.
Kath. I '11 have no bigger : this doth fit the time,
And gentlewomen wear such caps as these. 70
Pet. When you are gentle, you shall have one too,
And not till then.
Act IV. Sc. iii. THE TAMING
Hot. That will not be in haste. [Aside.
Katk. Why, sir, I trust I may have leave to speak ;
And speak I will ; I am no child, no babe :
Your betters have endured me say my mind,
And if you cannot, best you stop your ears.
My tongue will tell the anger of my heart,
Or else my heart concealing it will break ;
And rather than it shall, I will be free
Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words. 80
Pet. Why, thou say'st true ; it is a paltry cap,
A custard-coffin, a bauble, a silken pie :
I love thee well, in that thou likest it not.
Kath. Love me or love me not, I like the cap ;
And it I will have, or I will have none.
\Exit Haberdasher.
Pet. Thy gown ? why, ay : come, tailor, let us see 't.
0 mercy, God ! what masquing stuff is here ?
What's this ? a sleeve ? 'tis like a demi-cannon :
What, up and down, carved like an apple-tart ?
Here's snip and nip and cut and slish and slash, 90
Like to a censer in a barber's shop :
Why, what, i' devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this ?
Hor. I see she 's like to have neither cap nor gown. \_Aside.
Tai. You bid me make it orderly and well,
According to the fashion and the time.
Pet. Marry, and did ; but if you be remember'd,
1 did not bid you mar it to the time.
Go, hop me over every kennel home,
For you shall hop without my custom, sir :
I'll none of it : hence ! make your best of it. 100
Kath. I never saw a better-fashion'd gown,
More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable :
OF THE SHREW Act IV. Sc. Hi.
Belike you mean to make a puppet of me.
Pet. Why, true ; he means to make a puppet of thee.
Tai. She says your worship means to make a puppet
of her.
Pet. O monstrous arrogance ! Thou liest, thou
thread, thou thimble,
Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail !
Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter-cricket thou ! Iio
Braved in mine own house with a skein of thread ?
Away, thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant ;
Or I shall so be-mete thee with thy yard,
As thou shalt think on prating whilst thou livest !
I tell thee, I, that thou hast marr'd her gown.
Tai. Your worship is deceived ; the gown is made
Just as my master had direction :
Grumio gave order how it should be done.
Gru. I gave him no order ; I gave him the stuff.
Tai. But how did you desire it should be made ? 120
Gru. Marry, sir, with needle and thread.
Tai. But did you not request to have it cut ?
Gru. Thou hast faced many things.
Tai. I have.
Gru. Face not me : thou hast braved many men ;
brave not me ; I will neither be faced nor braved.
I say unto thee, I bid thy master cut out the
gown, but I did not bid him cut it to pieces :
ergo, thou liest.
Tai. Why, here is the note of the fashion to 130
testify.
Pet. Read it.
Gru. The note lies in 's throat if he say I
said so.
Act IV. Sc. iii. THE TAMING
Tat. [reads'] ' Imprimis, a loose-bodied gown : '
Gru. Master, if ever I said loose-bodied gown, sew
me in the skirts of it, and beat me to death with
a bottom of brown thread : I said a gown.
Pet. Proceed.
Tai. [reads'] ' With a small compassed cape :' 140
Gru. I confess the cape.
Tai. [reads] ' With a trunk sleeve : '
Gru. I confess two sleeves.
Tai. [reads] ' The sleeves curiously cut.'
Pet. Ay there 's the villany.
Gru. Error i' the bill sir ; error i' the bill. I com-
manded the sleeves should be cut out, and sewed
up again; and that I'll prove upon thee, though
thy little finger be armed in a thimble.
Tai. This is true that I say: an I had thee in place 150
where, thou shouldst know it.
Gru. I am for thee straight : take thou the bill,
give me thy mete-yard, and spare not me.
Hor. God-a-mercy, Grumio ! then he shall have no
odds.
Pet. Well, sir, in brief, the gown is not for me.
Gru. You are i' the right, sir : 'tis for my mistress.
Pet. Go, take it up unto thy master's use.
Gru. Villain, not for thy life : take up my mistress'
gown for thy master's use ! 160
Pet. Why, sir, what's your conceit in that ?
Gru. O, sir, the conceit is deeper than you think for :
Take up my mistress' gown to his master's use !
O, fie, fie, fie !
Pet. Hortensio, say thou wilt see the tailor paid. [Aside.
Go, take it hence ; be gone, and say no more.
OF THE SHREW Act IV- Sc- iiL
Hot: Tailor, I '11 pay thee for thy gown to-morrow :
Take no unkindness of his hasty words :
Away ! I say ; commend me to thy master. [Exit Tailor.
Pet. Well, come, my Kate ; we will unto your father's 1 70
Even in these honest mean habiliments :
Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor ;
For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich ;
And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds,
So honour peereth in the meanest habit.
What is the jay more precious than the lark,
Because his feathers are more beautiful ?
Or is the adder better than the eel,
Because his painted skin contents the eye ?
O, no, good Kate ; neither art thou the worse 180
For this poor furniture and mean array.
If thou account'st it shame, lay it on me ;
And therefore frolic : we will hence forthwith,
To feast and sport us at thy father's house.
Go, call my men, and let us straight to him ;
And bring our horses unto Long-lane end ;
There will we mount, and thither walk on foot.
Let 's see ; I think 'tis now some seven o'clock,
And well we may come there by dinner-time.
Kath. I dare assure you, sir, 'tis almost two; 1 90
And 'twill be supper-time ere you come there.
Pet. It shall be seven ere I go to horse :
Look, what I speak, or do, or think to do,
You are still crossing it. Sirs, let 't alone :
I will not go to-day ; and ere I do,
It shall be what o'clock I say it is.
Hor. Why, so this gallant will command the sun.
\Exeunt.
3 u
Act IV. Sc. iv. THE TAMING
Scene IV.
Padua. Before Baptista s house.
Enter Tranio, and the Pedant dressed like Vincentio.
Tra. Sir, this is the house : please it you that I call r
Ped. Ay, what else ? and but I be deceived
Signior Baptista may remember me,
Near twenty years ago, in Genoa,
Where we were lodgers at the Pegasus.
Tra. 'Tis well ; and hold your own, in any case,
With such austerity as 'longeth to a father.
Ped. I warrant you.
Enter Biondello.
But, sir, here comes your boy ;
'Twere good he were school'd.
Tra. Fear you not him. Sirrah Biondello, io
Now do your duty throughly, I advise you.
Imagine 'twere the right Vincentio.
Bion. Tut, fear not me.
Tra. But hast thou done thy errand to Baptista ?
Bion. I told him that your father was at Venice ;
And that you look'd for him this day in Padua.
Tra. Thou 'rt a tall fellow : hold thee that to drink.
Here comes Baptista : set your countenance, sir.
Enter Baptista and Lucentio.
Signior Baptista, you are happily met.
[To the Pedant] Sir, this is the gentleman I told you
of: 20
I pray you, stand good father to mc now,
Give me Bianca for my patrimony.
OF THE SHREW Act IV. Sc. iv.
Ped. Soft, son !
Sir, by your leave : having come to Padua
To gather in some debts, my son Lucentio
Made me acquainted with a weighty cause
Of love between your daughter and himself:
And, for the good report I hear of you,
And for the love he beareth to your daughter,
And she to him, to stay him not too long, 30
I am content, in a good father's care,
To have him match'd ; and, if you please to like
No worse than I, upon some agreement
Me shall you find ready and willing
With one consent to have her so bestow'd ;
For curious I cannot be with you,
Signior Baptista, of whom I hear so well.
Bap. Sir, pardon me in what I have to say :
Your plainness and your shortness please me well.
Right true it is, your son Lucentio here 40
Doth love my daughter, and she loveth him,
Or both dissemble deeply their affections :
And therefore, if you say no more than this,
That like a father you will deal with him,
And pass my daughter a sufficient dower,
The match is made, and all is done :
Your son shall have my daughter with consent.
Tra. I thank you, sir. Where then do you know best
We be affied and such assurance ta'en
As shall with either part's agreement stand ? 5°
Bap. Not in my house, Lucentio ; for, you know,
Pitchers have ears, and I have many servants :
Besides, old Gremio is hearkening still ;
And happily we might be interrupted.
Act IV. Sc. iv. THE TAMING
Tra. Then at my lodging, an it like you :
There doth my father lie ; and there, this night,
We'll pass the business privately and well.
Send for your daughter by your servant here ;
My boy shall fetch the scrivener presently.
The worst is this, that, at so slender warning, 60
You are like to have a thin and slender pittance.
Bap. It likes me well. Cambio, hie you home.
And bid Bianca make her ready straight ;
And, if you will, tell what hath happened,
Lucentio's father is arrived in Padua,
And how she 's like to be Lucentio's wife.
Bion. I pray the gods she may with all my heart !
Tra. Dally not with the gods, but get thee gone.
[Exit Bion.
Signior Baptista, shall I lead the way ?
Welcome ! one mess is like to be your cheer : 70
Come, sir ; we will better it in Pisa.
Bap. I follow you. [Exeunt Tranio, Pedant, and Baptista.
Re-enter Biondello.
Bion. Cambio.
Luc. What sayest thou, Biondello?
Bion. You saw my master wink and laugh upon you ?
Luc. Biondello, what of that ?
Bion. Faith, nothing ; but has left me here behind,
to expound the meaning or moral of his signs
and tokens.
Luc. I pray thee, moralize them. 80
Bion. Then thus. Baptista is safe, talking with the
deceiving father of a deceitful son.
Luc. And what of him ?
OF THE SHREW Act IV. Sc. v.
Bion. His daughter is to be brought by you to the
supper.
Luc And then ?
Bion. The old priest at Saint Luke's church is at
your command at all hours.
Luc. And what of all this ?
Bion. I cannot tell ; expect they are busied about a 90
counterfeit assurance : take you assurance of
her, 'cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum:'
to the church ; take the priest, clerk, and some
sufficient honest witnesses :
If this be not that you look for, I have no more to say,
But bid Bianca farewell for ever and a day.
Luc Hearest thou, Biondello ?
Bion. I cannot tarry : I knew a wench married in an
afternoon as she went to the garden for parsley
to stuff a rabbit ; and so may you, sir : and so, loo
adieu, sir. My master hath appointed me to go
to Saint Luke's, to bid the priest be ready to come
against you come with your appendix. [Exit.
Luc. I may, and will, if she be so contented :
She will be pleased ; then wherefore should I doubt ?
Hap what hap may, I '11 roundly go about her :
It shall go hard if Cambio go without her. [Exit.
Scene V.
A public road.
Enter Petrucbio, Katharina, Hortensio, and Servants.
Pet. Come on, i' God's name ; once more toward our
father's.
Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the moon !
Act IV. Sc. v. THE TAMING
Kath. The moon ! the sun : it is not moonlight now.
Pet. I say it is the moon that shines so bright.
Kath. I know it is the sun that shines so bright.
Pet. Now, by my mother's son, and that's myself,
It shall be moon, or star, or what I list,
Or ere I journey to your father's house.
Go on and fetch our horses back again.
Evermore cross'd and cross'd ; nothing but cross'd ! 10
Hor. Say as he says, or we shall never go.
Kath. Forward, I pray, since we have come so far,
And be it moon, or sun, or what you please :
And if you please to call it a rush-candle,
Henceforth I vow it shall be so for me.
Pet. I say it is the moon.
Kath. I know it is the moon.
Pet. Nay, then you lie : it is the blessed sun.
Kath. Then, God be bless'd, it is the blessed sun :
But sun it is not, when you say it is not ;
And the moon changes even as your mind. 20
What you will have it named, even that it is ;
And so it shall be so for Katharine.
Hor. Petruchio, go thy ways j the field is won.
Pet. Well, forward, forward ! thus the bowl should run,
And not unluckily against the bias.
But, soft ! company is coming here.
Enter Vhicentio.
[To Vincentio~\ Good morrow, gentle mistress : where
away ?
Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too,
Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman ?
Such war of white and red within her cheeks ? 30
OF THE SHREW Act IV. Sc. v.
What stars do spangle heaven with such beauty,
As those two eyes become that heavenly face ?
Fair lovely maid, once more good day to thee.
Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty's sake.
Hot: A' will make the man mad, to make a woman of him.
Kath. Young budding virgin, fair and fresh and sweet,
Whither away, or where is thy abode ?
Happy the parents of so fair a child ;
Happier the man, whom favourable stars
Allot thee for his lovely bed-fellow ! 40
Pet. Why, how now, Kate ! I hope thou art not mad :
This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, wither'd ;
And not a maiden, as thou say'st he is.
Kath. Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes,
That have been so bedazzled with the sun,
That every thing I look on seemeth green :
Now I perceive thou art a reverend father ;
Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking.
Pet. Do, good old grandsire ; and withal make known
Which way thou travellest : if along with us, 50
We shall be joyful of thy company.
Vin. Fair sir, and you my merry mistress,
That with your strange encounter much amazed me,
My name is call'd Vincentio ; my dwelling Pisa ;
And bound I am to Padua ; there to visit
A son of mine, which long I have not seen.
Pet. What is his name ?
Vin. Lucentio, gentle sir.
Pet. Happily met ; the happier for thy son.
And now by law, as well as reverend age,
I may entitle thee my loving father : 60
The sister to my wife, this gentlewoman,
Act V. Sc. i. THE TAMING
Thy son by this hath married. Wonder not,
Nor be not grieved : she is of good esteem,
Her dowry wealthy, and of worthy birth ;
Beside, so qualified as may beseem
The spouse of any noble gentleman.
Let me embrace with old Vincentio,
And wander we to see thy honest son,
Who will of thy arrival be full joyous.
V'in. But is this true ? or is it else your pleasure, 70
Like pleasant travellers, to break a jest
Upon the company you overtake ?
Hor. I do assure thee, father, so it is.
Pet. Come, go along, and see the truth hereof;
For our first merriment hath made thee jealous.
[Exeunt all but Hortensio.
Hor. Well, Petruchio, this has put me in heart.
Have to my widow ! and if she be froward,
Then hast thou taught Hortensio to be untoward.
[Exit.
ACT FIFTH.
Scene L
Padua. Before Lucent id's house.
G rem 10 discovered. Enter behind Biondello, Lucent io,
and Bianca.
Bion. Softly and swiftly, sir ; for the priest is ready.
Luc. I fly, Biondello : but they may chance to need
thee at home ; therefore leave us.
Bion. Nay, faith, I '11 see the church o' your back ;
OF THE SHREW Act V. Sc. i.
and then come back to my master's as soon as I
can. [Exeunt Lucentio, Bianca, and Biofidello.
Gre. I marvel Cambio comes not all this while.
Enter Petrucbio, Katharina, Vincentio, Grumio ivith
Attendants.
Pet. Sir, here 's the door, this is Lucentio's house :
My father's bears more toward the market-place ;
Thither must I, and here I leave you, sir. io
Vin. You shall not choose but drink before you go :
I think I shall command your welcome here,
And, by all likelihood, some cheer is toward. [Knocks.
Gre. They are busy within ; you were best knock
louder.
Pedant looks out of the window.
Ped. What 's he that knocks as he would beat down
the gate ?
Vin. Is Signior Lucentio within, sir ?
Ped. He 's within, sir, but not to be spoken withal.
Vin. What if a man bring him a hundred pound or 20
two, to make merry withal.
Ped. Keep your hundred pounds to yourself: he shall
need none, so long as I live.
Pet. Nay, I told you your son was well beloved in
Padua. Do you hear, sir ? — to leave frivolous
circumstances, — I pray you, tell Signior Lucentio,
that his father is come from Pisa, and is here at
the door to speak with him.
Ped. Thou liest : his father has come from Padua, and
here looking out at the window. 30
Vin. Art thou his father ?
Ped. Ay, sir ; so his mother says, if I may believe her.
Act V. Sc. i. THE TAMING
Pet. [To Vincentio] Why, how now, gentleman ! why,
this is flat knavery, to take upon you another
man's name.
Ped. Lay hands on the villain : I believe a' means
to cozen somebody in this city under my
countenance.
Re-enter Biondello.
Bion. I have seen them in the church together : God
send 'em good shipping ! But who is here ? mine 40
old master Vincentio ! now we are undone, and
brought to nothing.
Vin. [Seeing Bionde/Io] Come hither, crack-hemp.
Bion. I hope I may choose, sir.
Vin. Come hither, you rogue. What, have you for-
got me ?
Bion. Forgot you ! no, sir : I could not forget you,
for I never saw you before in all my life.
Vin. What, you notorious villain, didst thou never see
thy master's father, Vincentio ? 50
Bion. What, my old worshipful old master ? yet
marry, sir : see where he looks out of the
window.
Vin. Is 't so, indeed? [Beats Biotidello.
Bion. Help, help, help ! here's a madman will murder
me. [Exit.
Ped. Help, son ! help, Signior Baptista ! [Exit from above.
Pet. Prithee, Kate, let 's stand aside, and see the end
of this controversy. [They retire.
Re-enter Pedant beloiv ; Tranio, Baptista, and Servants.
Tra. Sir, what are you, that offer to beat my servant ? 60
Vin. What am I, sir ' nay, what are you, sir ? O
OF THE SHREW Act V. Sc. i.
immortal gods ! O fine villain ! A silken doub-
let ! a velvet hose ! a scarlet cloak ! and a copa-
tain hat ! O, I am undone ! I am undone !
while I play the good husband at home,
my son and my servant spend all at the
university.
Tra. How now ! what 's the matter ?
Bap. What, is the man lunatic ?
Tra. Sir, you seem a sober ancient gentleman by your 70
habit, but your words show you a madman.
Why, sir, what 'cerns it you if I wear pearl and
gold ? I thank my good father, I am able to
maintain it.
Vin. Thy father ! O villain ! he is a sail-maker in
Bergamo.
Bap. You mistake, sir, you mistake, sir. Pray, what
do you think is his name ?
Vin. His name ! as if I knew not his name : I have
brought him up ever since he was three years old 80
and his name is Tranio.
Ped. Away, away, mad ass ! his name is Lucentio ;
and he is mine only son, and heir to the lands of
me, Signior Vincentio.
Vin. Lucentio ! O, he hath murdered his master !
Lay hold on him, I charge you, in the Duke's
name. O, my son, my son ! Tell me, thou
villain, where is my son Lucentio?
Tra. Call forth an officer.
Enter one with an Officer.
Carry this mad knave to the gaol. Father Bap- 90
tista, I charge you see that he be forthcoming.
Act V. Sc. i. THE TAMING
Vin. Carry me to the gaol !
Gre. Stay, officer : he shall not go to prison.
Bap. Talk not, Signior Gremio : I say he shall go to
prison.
Gre. Take heed, Signior Baptista, lest you be cony-
catched in this business : I dare swear this is the
right Vincentio.
Ped. Swear, if thou darest.
Gre. Nay, I dare not swear it. loo
Tra. Then thou wert best say that I am not Lucentio.
Gre. Yes, I know thee to be Signior Lucentio.
Bap. Away with the dotard ! to the gaol with him !
Vin. Thus strangers may be haled and abused :
O monstrous villain !
Re-enter Biondello, ivith Lucentio and Bianca.
Bion. O, we are spoiled ! and — yonder he is : deny
him, forswear him, or else we are all undone.
Luc. Pardon, sweet father. \Kneeling.
Vin. Lives my sweet son ?
[Exeunt Biondello, Tranio, and Pedant,
as fast as may be.
Bian. Pardon, dear father.
Bap. How hast thou offended ?
Where is Lucentio?
Luc. Here's Lucentio, no
Right son to the right Vincentio ;
That have by marriage made thy daughter mine,
While counterfeit supposes blear'd thine eyne.
Gre. Here's packing, with a witness, to deceive us
all!
Vin. Where is that damned villain Tranio,
OF THE SHREW Act V. Sc. i.
That faced and braved me in this matter so ?
Bap. Why, tell me, is not this my Cambio ?
Bian. Cambio is changed into Lucentio.
Luc. Love wrought these miracles. Bianca's love 1 20
Made me exchange my state with Tranio,
While he did bear my countenance in the town j
And happily I have arrived at the last
Unto the wished haven of my bliss.
What Tranio did, myself enforced him to ;
Then pardon him, sweet father, for my sake.
Vin. I'll slit the villain's nose, that would have sent
me to the gaol.
Bap. But do you hear, sir ? have you married my
daughter without asking my good will ? 130
Vin. Fear not, Baptista ; we will content you, go
to : but I will in, to be revenged for this
villany. [Exit.
Bap. And I, to sound the depth of this knavery. [Exit.
Luc. Look not pale, Bianca ; thy father will not
frown. [Exeunt Lucentio and Bianca.
Gre. My cake is dough : but I '11 in among the rest ;
Out of hope of all, but my share of the feast. [Exit.
Kath. Husband, let 's follow, to see the end of this ado.
Pet. First kiss me, Kate, and we will. 140
Kath. What, in the midst of the street ?
Pet. What, art thou ashamed of me ?
Kath. No, sir, God forbid ; but ashamed to kiss.
Pet. Why, then let 's home again. Come, sirrah, let 's away.
Kath. Nay, I will give thee a kiss : now pray thee, love,
stay.
Pet. Is not this well ? Come, my sweet Kate :
Better once than never, for never too late. [Exeunt.
Act V. Sc. ii. THE TAMING
Scene II.
Padua. L licentious house.
Enter Baptista, Vincentio, Gremio, the Pedant, Lucentio, Bianca,
Petruchio, Katharina, Hortensio, and Widow, Tranio,
Biondello, and Grumio : the Serving-men ivith Tranio
bringing in a banquet.
Luc. At last, though long, our jarring notes agree :
And time it is, when raging war is done,
To smile at scapes and perils overblown.
My fair Bianca, bid my father welcome,
While I with self-same kindness welcome thine.
Brother Petruchio, sister Katharina,
And thou, Hortensio, with thy loving widow,
Feast with the best, and welcome to my house :
My banquet is to close our stomachs up,
After our great good cheer. Pray you, sit down ;
For now we sit to chat, as well as eat. 1 1
Pet. Nothing but sit and sit, and eat and eat !
Bap. Padua affords this kindness, son Petruchio.
Pet. Padua affords nothing but what is kind.
Hor. For both our sakes, I would that word were true.
Pet. Now, for my life, Hortensio fears his widow.
Wid. Then never trust me, if I be afeard.
Pet. You are very sensible, and yet you miss my sense :
I mean Hortensio is afeard of you.
Wid. He that is giddy thinks the world turns round. 20
Pet. Roundly replied.
Kath. Mistress, how mean you that ?
Wid. Thus I conceive by him.
Pet. Conceives by me ! How likes Hortensio that ?
Hor. My widow says, thus she conceives her tale.
OF THE SHREW Act V. Sc. ii.
Pet. Very well mended. Kiss him for that, good
widow.
Kath. ' He that is giddy thinks the world turns round : '
I pray you, tell me what you meant by that.
Wid. Your husband, being troubled with a shrew,
Measures my husband's sorrow by his woe :
And now you know my meaning. go
Kath. A very mean meaning.
Wid. Right, I mean you.
Kath. And I am mean, indeed, respecting you.
Pet. To her, Kate !
Hor. To her, widow !
Pet. A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down.
Hor. That 's my office.
Pet. Spoke like an officer : ha' to thee, lad.
[Drinks to Hortensio.
Bap. How likes Gremio these quick-witted folks ?
Gre. Believe me, sir, they butt together well.
Bian. Head, and butt ! an hasty-witted body 40
Would say your head and butt were head and horn.
Vin. Ay, mistress bride, hath that awaken'd you ?
Bian. Ay, but not frighted me ; therefore I'll sleep
again.
Pet. Nay, that you shall not : since you have begun,
Have at you for a bitter jest or two !
Bian. Am I your bird ? I mean to shift my bush ;
And then pursue me as you draw your bow.
You are welcome all.
[Exeunt Bianca, Katharina, and Widoiv.
Pet. She hath prevented me. Here, Signior Tranio,
This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not ; 50
Therefore a health to all that shot and miss'd.
Act V. Sc. ii. THE TAMING
Tra. O, sir, Lucentio slipp'd me like his greyhound,
Which runs himself, and catches for his master.
Pet. A good swift simile, but something currish.
Tra. 'Tis well, sir, that you hunted for yourself:
'Tis thought your deer does hold you at a bay.
Bap. O ho, Petruchio ! Tranio hits you now.
Luc. I thank thee for that gird, good Tranio.
Hor. Confess, confess, hath he not hit you here ?
Pet. A' has a little gall'd me, I confess ; 60
And, as the jest did glance away from me,
'Tis ten to one it maim'd you two outright.
Bap. Now, in good sadness, son Petruchio,
I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all.
Pet. Well, I say no : and therefore for assurance
Let 's each one send unto his wife :
And he whose wife is most obedient,
To come at first when he doth send for her,
Shall win the wager which we will propose.
Hor. Content. What is the wager ?
Luc. Twenty crowns. 70
Pet. Twenty crowns !
I'll venture so much of my hawk or hound,
But twenty times so much upon my wife.
Luc. A hundred then.
Hor. Content.
Pet. A match ! 'tis done.
Hor. Who shall begin ?
Luc. That will I.
Go, Biondello, bid your mistress come to me.
Bum. I go. [Exit.
Bap. Son, I '11 be your half, Bianca comes.
Luc. I'll have no halves; I'll bear it all myself.
OF THE SHREW Act v- Sc- «•
Re-enter Biondello.
How now ! what news ?
Bion. Sir, my mistress sends you word 80
That she is busy, and she cannot come.
Pet. How ! she is busy, and she cannot come !
Is that an answer ?
Gre. Ay, and a kind one too :
Pray God, sir, your wife send you not a worse.
Pet. I hope, better.
Hor. Sirrah Biondello, go and entreat my wife
To come to me forthwith. [Exit Biondello.
Pet. O, ho ! entreat her !
Nay, then she must needs come.
Hor. I am afraid, sir,
Do what you can, yours will not be entreated.
Re-enter Biondello.
Now, where 's my wife? 90
Bion. She says you have some goodly jest in hand :
She will not come ; she bids you come to her.
Pet. Worse and worse ; she will not come ! O vile,
Intolerable, not to be endured !
Sirrah Grumio, go to your mistress j
Say, I command her come to me. [Exit Grumio.
Hor. I know her answer.
Pet. What ?
Hor. She will not.
Pet. The fouler fortune mine, and there an end.
Bap. Now, by my holidame, here comes Katharina !
Re-enter Katharina.
Kath. What is your will, sir, that you send for me ? 1 00
3 x
Act V. Sc. ii. THE TAMING
Pet. "Where is your sister, and Hortensio's wife ?
Kath. They sit conferring by the parlour fire.
Pet. Go, fetch them hither : if they deny to come,
Swinge 'me them soundly forth unto their husbands:
Away, I say, and bring them hither straight.
[Exit Katharina.
Luc. Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder.
Hor. And so it is : I wonder what it bodes.
Pet. Marry, peace it bodes, and love, and quiet life,
An awful rule, and right supremacy ;
And, to be short, what not, that's sweet and happy?
Bap. Now, fair befal thee, good Petruchio ! 1 1 1
The wager thou hast won ; and I will add
Unto their losses twenty thousand crowns ;
Another dowry to another daughter,
For she is changed, as she had never been.
Pet. Nay, I will win my wager better yet,
And show more sign of her obedience,
Her new-built virtue and obedience.
See where she comes and brings your froward wives
As prisoners to her womanly persuasion. 120
Re-enter Katharina, ivith Bianca and Widow.
Katharina, that cap of yours becomes you not :
Off with that bauble, throw it under-foot.
Wid. Lord, let me never have a cause to sigh,
Till I be brought to such a silly pass !
Bian. Fie, what a foolish duty call you this ?
Luc. I would your duty were as foolish too :
The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca,
Hath cost me an hundred crowns since supper-time.
Bian. The more fool you, for laying on my duty. 129
OF THE SHREW Act V. Sc. ii.
Pet. Katharina, I charge thee, tell these headstrong women
What duty they do owe their lords and husbands.
Wid. Come, come, you're mocking: we will have no telling.
Pet. Come on, I say ; and first begin with her.
Wid. She shall not.
Pet. I say she shall : and first begin with her.
Kath. Fie, fie ! unknit that threatening unkind brow ;
And dart not scornful glances from those eyes.
To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor :
It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads,
Confounds thy fame as whirlwinds shake fair buds,
And in no sense is meet or amiable. 141
A woman moved is like a fountain troubled,
Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty ;
And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty
Will deign to sip or touch one drop of it.
Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy sovereign ; one that cares for thee,
And for thy maintenance commits his body
To painful labour both by sea and land,
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold, 150
Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and safe ;
And craves no other tribute at thy hands
But love, fair looks and true obedience ;
Too little payment for so great a debt.
Such duty as the subject owes the prince
Even such a woman oweth to her husband ;
And when she is froward, peevish, sullen, sour,
And not obedient to his honest will,
What is she but a foul contending rebel,
And graceless traitor to her loving lord ? 1 60
I am ashamed that women are so simple
ActV.Sc.ii. THE TAMING OF THE SHREW
To offer war where they should kneel for peace ;
Or seek for rule, supremacy and sway,
When they are bound to serve, love and obey.
Why are our bodies soft and weak and smooth,
Unapt to toil and trouble in the world,
But that our soft conditions and our hearts
Should well agree with our external parts ?
Come, come, you froward and unable worms !
My mind hath been as big as one of yours, 170
My heart as great, my reason haply more,
To bandy word for word and frown for frown ;
But now I see our lances are but straws,
Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare,
That seeming to be most which we indeed least are.
Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot,
And place your hands below your husband's foot :
In token of which duty, if he please,
My hand is ready, may it do him ease. f 79
Pet. Why, there 's a wench ! Come on, and kiss me, Kate.
Luc. Well, go thy ways, old lad ; for thou shalt ha 't.
Vin. 'Tis a good hearing, when children are toward.
Luc. But a harsh hearing, when women are froward.
Pet. Come, Kate, we '11 to bed.
We three are married, but you two are sped.
'Twas I won the wager, though you hit the white ;
[To Lucentio.
And, being a winner, God give you good night !
[Exeunt Petruchio and Katharina.
Hot. Now, go thy ways ; thou hast tamed a curst shrew.
Luc. 'Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tamed so.
[Exeunt.
Feran. Now lovely Kate before their husbands here
I prithee tell unto these headstrong women
What duty wives do owe unto their husbands.
Kate. Then you that live thus by your pampered wills,
Now list to me and mark what I shall say.
Th' eternal power that with his only breath,
Shall cause this end and this beginning framed,
Not in time, nor before time, but with time, confused.
For all the course of years, of ages, months,
Of seasons temperate, of days and hours,
Are tuned and stopt, by measure of His hand ;
The first world was a form without a form,
A heap confused, a mixture all deformed,
A gulf of gulfs, a body bodiless,
Where all the elements were orderless,
Before the great commander of the world,
The King of Kings, the glorious God of heaven,
Who in six days did frame his heavenly worke,
And made all things to stand in perfect course,
Then to his image he did make a man,
Old Adam, and from his side asleep,
A rib was taken, of which the Lord did make,
The woe of man, so termed by Adam then,
Woman, for that by her came sin to us,
And for her sin was Adam doomed to die.
As Sara to her husband, so should we
Obey them, love them, keep, and nourish them,
If they by any means do want our helps,
Laying our hands under their feet to tread,
If that by that we might procure their ease,
And for a precedent I'll first-begin,
And lay my hand under my husband's feet.
\_Shc lays her hand under her husband's feet.
The Taming of A Shrew; cp. Act V. ii. 130-180.
THE TAMING
Glossary.
Above (so Folios i, 2, and Quarto;
Folios 3 and 4 " about ") ; Induct.
ii. 115.
Achieve, gain, possess; 1. i. 160.
Adversaries, opposing counsel ; I. ii.
278.
Ad-vice, reflection, second thoughts ;
I. i. 117.
Advised; "art thou not advised,"
do you not understand ; I. i. 190.
Ajjied, affianced, betrothed ; IV. iv.
49-
Agenor; "the daughter of A." i.e.
"Europa, for whose sake Jupiter
translated himself into a bull " ;
I. i. 172.
Aglet-baby, the tag of a point or
lace, with a head formed into a
small figure ; I. ii. 79.
Aim'd, guessed ; II. i. 238.
AVce, a contracted form of " Alice";
Induct, ii. 112.
An, if ; I. i. 131.
Ancient, old, former ; Induct, ii. 33 ;
I. ii. 47.
And all one, but it does not matter ;
IV. ii. 101.
Angel; "ancient angel," probably
a cant term for a good old soul ;
IV. ii. 61.
Anna, the sister of Dido ; I. i. 158.
Antic, buffoon, oddity ; Induct, i.
101.
Apes ; " lead apes in hell," alluding
to the old belief that spinsters
lead apes in hell ; II. i. 34.
Token of Alee Wates, who lived at the
Sign of the Three Pigeons.
" A little pot, and soon hot,''' alluding
to the proverb, " a little pot is
soon hot " ; IV. i. 6.
"Alia nostra casa ben venuto,'' &c.
Welcome to our house my much
honoured Signior ; I. ii. 25-6.
Amort, dejected ; IV. iii. 36.
A mediceual apc-lcadcr.
From the Dialogues de St Grcgoirc, pre-
served at Brussells (Xllth Cent. MS.,
Bibl. Reg. 9917;.
Apply, i c. " ply," or (?) apply my-
self to ; I. i. 19.
Argosy, a merchant-ship ; II. i. 376.
OF THE SHREW
Arms, play upon the two senses,
ordinary and heraldic, of arms ;
II. i. 222.
Arras, tapestry ; II. i. 353.
As, so that, Induct, i. 70 ; as if, I.
ii. 157 ; as though, II. i. 160 ;
that, IV. iii. 114.
Assurance, legal settlement; II. i.
At a bay, at bay ; V. ii. 56.
Aivful, awe inspiring ; V. ii. 109.
Baccare, a cant word, meaning go
back, used in allusion to a pro-
verbial saying, " Backare, quoth
Mortimer to his sow " ; probably
made in ridicule of some man who
affected a knowledge of Latin
without knowing it ; II. i. 73.
Balk; " b. logic," i.e. (probably)
chop logic ; I. i. 34.
Balm, anoint ; Induct, i. 48.
Bars, prevents; Induct, ii. 138.
Basta (Italian), enough : I. i. 202.
Bate, flap the wings; IV. i. 191.
Bear-herd, a leader of a tame bear ;
Induct, ii. 21.
Bears me fair in hand, gives me every
encouragement ; IV. ii. 3.
Beholding, beholden ; I. ii. 274.
Belike, perhaps, probably ; Induct,
i. 75.
Be-mete, be-measure ; IV. iii. 113.
Bemoiled, besmirched, bedraggled :
IV. i. 73.
Ben venuto : " I shall be your b. v."
i.e. " I will guarantee your wel-
come " ; I. ii. 282.
Bestraught = distraught = distracted ;
Induct, ii. 27.
Bias, a weight on one side of a
bowl, which affects its direction ;
IV. v. 25.
Bill, with a play upon the two
senses of " bill " ; IV. iii. 152.
Blear'd, dimmed; V. i. 113.
Blue coats ; the dress of common
serving men ; IV. i. 87.
Board, woo : I. ii. 95.
Glossary
Books ; " put me in thy books," i.e.
good books ; used with a playful
quibble ; II. i. 225.
This curious illustration of the above
phrase is taken from a XVth Century
painting in Carlisle Cathedral, illus-
trating a legendary history of St
Augustine.
Boot, avail, use; V. ii. 176.
Boot-hose, stocking suited to wear
with boots ; III. ii. 67.
Boss'd, embossed, studded ; II. i.
355-
Bottom, a ball (of thread) ; IV. iii.
138.
Boiv'd, bent ; II. i. 151.
Brach, a kind of scenting-dog, pro-
perly a female hound (" brach
merriman,'' 1. 17, vide note) ; In-
duct, i. 18.
Brave, i.e. handsomely clad ; Induct.
i. 40.
Braved, used in double sense (1)
made fine, and (2) outbraved ;
(similarly "face," ibid.'); IV. iii.
125.
Bravery, finery; IV. iii. 57.
Braves, bullying; III. i. 15.
Breathed, in full career ; Induct, ii.
50.
Glossary
THE TAMING
Breeching scholar, schoolboy ; in
Elizabethan times, liable to be
whipped ; III. i. 18.
The seal of Louth Grammar School,
founded 1552. (See Journ. Brit.
Arch. Assoc, 1856, p. 154.)
Bring=take ; IV. i. 173.
Buckler, shield ; III. ii. 239.
Bugs, bugbears; I. ii. 211.
Burst, broken; Induct, i. 8; IV.i.78.
Burton-heath, probably Barton-on-
the-heath, a village in Warwick-
shire ; Induct, ii. 19.
But, except, unless ; III. i. 62 ; IV.
iv. 2.
Buttery, a place for keeping pro-
visions, especially liquor ; Induct.
i. 102.
Buzz, used equivocally with a
play upon " be " ( = " bee'') and
" buzz," an interjection to com-
mand silence ; II. i. 207.
Buzzard, II. i. 207-9 (*"'<& note).
Carousing to, drinking healths to ;
III. ii. 171.
Carpets, probably "table-covers";
IV. i. 50.
Cart (used as a play upon " court "),
to punish a culprit by carting, a
punishment akin to the ducking-
stool ; I. i. 55.
Cast on no tuater, alluding to the old
catch, "Scotland burnetii, Scot land
burneth! Fire, fire, fire, fire! Cast
on water, cast on water ! " IV.i.21 .
Censer, a fire pan which was used
for burning perfumes ; IV. iii. 91.
' Cerns — concerns ; V. i. 72.
Chafed, made furious; I. ii. 203.
Chapeless, without a chape ; the
"chape" was the metal part at
the end of the scabbard ; III. ii. 47.
Checks (so the Folios and Quarto ;
Blackstone "ethics"; the old play
in corresponding passage. "Aris-
totle's walks"), austere rules ; I. i.
32-
Close, secretly ; Induct, i. 127.
Cod's, common corruption of the
name of God ; IV. i. 113.
Comformable, compliant, yielding ; II.
i. 280.
Comonty; Sly 's blunder for "Comedy";
Induct, ii. 140.
Compassed, round ; IV. iii. 140.
Conditions: "soft c." gentle quali-
ties ; V. ii. 167.
Conserves, preserves ; Induct, ii. 3.
Contented, pleased ; IV. iv. 104.
Contents, pleases ; IV. iii. 1 79.
Content you, keep your temper; II. i. 343.
Contrive, while away ; I. ii. 276.
Con tutto, &c; with all my heart,
well met ! I. ii. 24.
Cony-catched, deceived, tricked ; V.
i. 96.
Cony-catching, trickery, foolery ; IV.
'■ 43-
Copatain hat, a high crowned hat ; V.
i. 63.
From Holme's Academy of Armory (1688).
OF THE SHREW
Glossary
Countenance, do honour to ; IV. i.
99-
Counterpoints, counterpanes ; II. i.
353-
Coxcomb, the ornament on a fool's
cap ; II. i. 226.
From an engraving by Fairholt of an
old painting.
Crab, crab-apple ; II. i. 230.
Crack-hemp, one who deserves hang-
ing ; V. i. 43.
Craven, a beaten cock ; II. i. 228.
Credit, do honour to ; IV. i.
100.
Cried: "he cried upon it at the
merest loss," i.e. he gave the cry
when the scent seemed utterly
lost ; Induct, i. 23.
Cullion, base fellow; IV. ii. 20.
Cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum,
i.e. "with exclusive copyright,"
used with reference to marriage-
rights ; IV. iv. 92.
Cunning, skill, art ; Induct, i. 92.
Cunning, skilful, clever ; I. i. 97 ;
II. i. 56.
Curious, punctilious ; IV. iv. 36.
Curst, shrewish ; I. i. 184.
Custard-coffin ; the raised crust of a
custard was called a coffin ; IV.
iii. 82.
Cythcrea, Venus; Induct, ii. 53.
Dance bare-foot ; " I must dance bare-
foot on her wedding day," allud-
ing to the old custom that the
elder unmarried sisters danced
without shoes at the marriage of
the youngest daughter ; II. i.
33-
Declining; " d. head into " = head d.
into ; Induct, i. 119.
Deep-mouth'd, having a deep-sound-
ing bark ; Induct, i. 18.
Demi-cannon, a kind of ordnance ; IV.
iii. 88.
Denier, a very small coin ; the
twelfth part of a sou ; Induct, i. 9
Diaper, a towel of figured linen ;
Induct, i. 57.
Digress, deviate (from his promise) ;
III. ii. 107.
Dog-iveary ; " tired as a dog " ; IV.
ii. 60.
Domineer, indulge without restraint :
III. ii. 224.
Dough; "our cakes are dough on
both sides," etc.; i.e. we are dis-
appointed : a popular proverb, I.
i. no ; V. i. 137.
Eleven and tiuenty, supposed to be an
allusion to the game of one and
thirty ; IV. ii. 57.
Emboss d, foaming at the mouth ; a
hunter's term ; Induct, i. 17.
Embracements, embraces; Induct, i.
118.
Encounter, greeting ; IV. v. 54.
Expect, believe (Folio 2, ' except ') ;
IV. iv. 90.
" Fac'd it ivith a card of ten," played
the best card, the trump card ; II.
i. 407.
Fair, in state, finery ; II. i. 17.
" Fair befall thee," good fortune
befall thee ; V. ii. n 1.
Fardingales = farthingales, hoops ;
IV. iii. 56.
Fashions (a corruption of farcins), a
skin disease in horses ; III. ii. 52.
Glossary
Fault ; " coldest f. ," i.e. absolute loss
of scent; Induct, i. 20.
Fay, faith ; Induct, ii. 83.
Fear, frighten ; I. ii. 211.
Fears ; used equivocally (1) is afraid
of; (2) affrights ; V. ii. 16.
Feiv ; "in a few," i.e. in a few
words ; I. ii. 52.
Fine, smart; IV. i. 131.
Fives, a disease in horses ; III. ii.
54-
" Florentius7 love" : an allusion to a
story in Gower's Confssio Amantis ;
a Knight Florent agrees to marry
an ugly hag, if she will teach him
to solve a riddle on which his life
depends (cp. Chaucer's Wife of
Bath's Tale); I. ii. 69.
Flouts, mocks ; II. i. 29.
Fool, a professional foqj ; I. i. 65.
For assurance, to make sure; V. ii.
65.
Foul, ugly, deformed ; I. ii. 69.
Frets, stops of the lute ; II. i. 150.
Fretting, spoiling (with a play upon
"fret" in the ordinary sense) ;
II. i. 330.
Froivard, refractory ; I. i. 69.
Full, exactly ; I. i. 202.
Furniture, dress, furnishings ; IV.
iii. 181.
Galliasses, large galleys ; II. i.
380.
GambolJ, the old form of " gambol,"
growing obsolete in Shakespeare's
time ; hence used by Sly ; Induct.
ii. 140.
Gamester, used contemptuously ; II.
i. 402.
Gamut, III. i. 71. (See accompanying
example of Mediaeval Sol-fa from
Naylor's Shakespeare ami Music.
q.V. pp. 37, 186.)
(Natural Hexachord)
THE TAMING
Gaivds, ornaments, trifling toys ; II.
i. 3.
Gentles, gentlemen ; III. ii. 93.
Gifts, endowments, abilities ; I.i. 106.
Gird, gibe ; V. ii. 58.
Give over, leave; I. ii. 105.
God-a-merey, God have mercy ; IV.
iii. 154.
Gogs-ivouns , a corruption of " God's
wounds " ; III. ii. 160.
Good shipping, a good voyage, good
luck ; V. i. 40.
Grace, a kindness ; I. ii. 131.
Gramercies, i.e. "grands mercies,"
great thanks; I. i. 41.
Gratify, reward ; I. ii. 273.
Green; "whiles your boots are
green," i.e. (?) freshly greased,
or fresh, new ; (cp. colloquial
phrase, "before your shoes wear
out"); III. ii. 211.
Grissel, the typical instance of
womanly patience; an allusion to
Griselda, the heroine of Chaucer's
Clerk's Tale: II. i. 297.
Haggard, a wild hawk ; IV. i. 188.
Haled, pulled away by force; V. i.
104.
Halt, limp ; II. i. 258.
Hand ; " at any hand," in any case;
I. ii. 147.
Hap, good luck ; I. ii. 269.
Happily, haply, perhaps; IV. iv. 54.
" Happy man he his dole," happiness
be his portion ; I. i. 143.
Hard; "that goes hard." that's
bad ; IV. ii. 80.
Ha to thee, here's to thee ; V. ii. 37.
Have, get ; Induct, ii. 39.
Have to 't, set to it ; I. i. 142.
/fc = man ; III ii. 234.
Hie Hat Simois, etc., from Ovid,
Epist. HeroiJ. 1. 33 ; III. i. 28-9.
(Hard Hexachord)
1
~rf »
a=&:
0
« >
t Re Mi Fa Sol La
Ut Re Mi Fa Sol La
OF THE SHREW
Glossary
High-cross, the market-place, where
formerly a cross was always
erected ; I. i. 135.
Hilding, term of contempt, menial :
II. i. 26.
Hipped, covered to the hips ; Ill.ii.48.
"Hit the white";
hitthecentre
of the target;
with allusion
to B i a n c a
(white) ; a
term in arch-
ery; V.ii.186.
Holidame, hali-
dom; "bymy
halidom ;" =
upon my sacred word or oath ;
V. ii. 99.
" Humour of forty fancies" probably
the title of a collection of ballads;
III. ii. 69.
Hungerly, hungrily, scantily : III.
ii. 175.
Hurly, hurly-burly ; IV. i. 198.
Husband, economist, housekeeper :
V. i. 65.
Husht, hush! (cp. -'hist," "whist ");
I. i. 68.
Idle, absurd ; Induct, ii. 14.
Indifferent, equally ; I. ii. 181.
Indifferent; "garters of an indifferent
1 knit," i.e. tied in an ordinary
way, not looped conspicuously ;
IV. i. 88.
1 Ingenious, probably " ingenuous " ;
Sh. uses the two words indis-
criminately ; I. i. 9.
o o o o c
From an illumination in the Loutterell Psalter (XlVth Cent.).
Ingrate, ungrateful ; I. ii. 270.
Intend, pretend; IV. i. 198.
Intolerable^ intolerably ; I. ii. 89.
I ivis, i.e. iwis, truly ; I. i. 62.
Jack, a term of contempt ; II. i. 159.
"Jack, boy! ho! boy!" the com-
mencement of an old catch ; IV.
i. 41. (See Naylor's Shakespeare
and Music, p. 1 99.)
Jacks . . , jills ; drinking-vessels
made respectively of leather and
metal, with a play upon "jacks,"
men-servants, and "jills," maid-
servants ; IV. i. 49.
Jade, worthless nag; I. ii. 249.
Jealous, suspicious ; IV. v. 76.
Join d stool, a kind of folding chair ;
II. i. 199.
Joltheads, blockheads ; IV. i. 161.
Jump, agree ; I. i. 194.
Junkets, dainties ; III. ii. 248.
Kate, a play on Kate and cat ; II. i.
279.
Kated, perhaps with a play upon
cat ; III. ii. 245.
Kates; " Dainties are all Kates" ; a
play on the word cates ; II. i. 190.
Keep you -warm ; referring to the
proverb " To have wit enough to
keep one's self warm " ; II. i. 268.
Kennel, gutter ; IV. iii. 98.
From Ward's Woe to Drunkards (1627).
The picture illustrates " the degeneracy
of the age by a comparison of its follies
with the manly virtues of a former period,
which are typified by the booted leg in
the stirrup, etc."
Glossary
THE TAMING
Kindly, "let him come and kindly";
evidently used like the colloquial
" welcome," to express indiffer-
ence ; Induct, i. 15 ; in a natural
manner ; Induct, i. 66.
Knack, knick-knack, trifle ; lV.iii.67.
Lampass,-d disease in horses ; III.ii.51.
Laying on, laying a wager on ; V.ii. 129.
Leda's daughter, i.e. Helen ; I. ii. 244.
Lett, Court-leet, which tried those
who used false weights and mea-
sures ; Induct, ii. 89.
'Leges = alleges ; I. ii. 28.
Leiud, vile ; IV. iii. 65.
Lie, stay, lodge ; IV. iv. 56.
Lief, gladly, willingly ; I. i. 134.
Like, likely ; IV. iv. 70.
LUe of— like ; II. i. 65.
Link, a pitch torch ; IV. i. 129.
Lodging, chamber; Induct, i. 49.
Longly, a great while, a long time
(i- longingly); I. i. 169.
Look big, angrily ; III. ii. 228.
Lovely, loving; III. ii. 123.
Lure, a stuffed bird used in falconry
for training the hawk; IV. i. 187.
iSL.
From an illumination in Le Livre du
Roy. Modus., Nat. Lib., Paris.
Lusty, lively ; II. i. 161.
Maidenhead, maidenhood ; III. ii.225.
Malt-horse, a brewer's horse; used as
a term of contempt; IV. i. 124.
Man, tame ; IV. i. 188.
Marr'd . . . made, a favourite quibble
in old English literature ; the
two words were pronounced al-
most alike ; IV. iii. 115-116.
Married o' Sunday; "we will be
married o' Sunday " ; the burden
of several popular songs, the best
known occurring in Ralph Roister
Doister ; II. i. 326.
Mart, bargain ; II. i. 329.
Masquing, masquerading ; IV. iii. 87.
Meacock, timorous, worthless ; II. i.
3i5-
Meaner, of lower rank ; I. i. 209.
Mercatante (spelt " marcantant " in
Folios and Quarto), merchant ;
IV. ii. 63.
Merry passion, merriment ; Induct, i.
97-
Mess, course ; IV. iv. 70.
Meiv up, shut up ; I. i. 87.
Minion, saucy wench ; II. i. 13.
Mi perdonato (Folios " me pardon-
ato " ; Quarto " me pardinato "),
me being pardoned ; I. i. 25.
Modesty, moderation ; Induct, i. 68.
Mose in the chine, a disease in horses ;
III. ii. 50.
Moved, angry ; V. ii. 142.
Napkin, handkerchief ; Induct, i. 27.
Neat, ox ; IV. iii. 17.
Neivs ; " what 's the news ? " what
does this mean ? I. i. 229.
Of = for, II. i. 238 ; on, IV. i. 66 ;
V. ii. 72.
Old, used intensitively ; cp. modern
phrase, " old fellow." III. ii. 30.
0« = of ; IV. i. 29.
Orchard, garden ; II. i. 112.
Or ere, before ; IV. v. 8.
Other, others ; I. ii. 121.
Over-eyeing, witnessing, seeing ; In-
duct, i. 95.
Packing, plotting; V. i. 114.
Pain, pains, toil ; III. i. 12.
Palabris ; " paucas pallabris " ; Sly's
corruption of the Spanish " pocas
palabras," i.e. few words; Induct.
i. 5.
Pantaloon, an old fool ; a standing
character in Italian comedy {cp.
As You Like It Glossary) ; III i. 37.
OF THE SHREW
Glossary
Parle, parley ; I. i. 117.
Pass, convey (a legal term) ; IV. iv.
45 ; transact, IV. iv. 57.
Passing, surpassing ; Induct, i. 67 ;
II. i. 113.
Peat, the old form of "pet " ; I. i. 78.
Pedant, schoolmaster; IV. ii. 63.
Pedascule, pedant, schoolmaster; III.
i. 50.
Pheeze, originally " to incite, send
forth, drive away," whence pro-
bably secondary meaning " to
beat,'' and in certain dialects " to
pay a person off for an injury " ;
Induct i. 1.
Plash, pool ; I. i. 23.
Points, tagged laces used forfastening
various parts of thedress; III.ii.48.
Porringer, a bowl or basin ; IV.iii.64.
Port style of living ; I. i. 207.
Practise, plot, play a trick ; Induct.
i 36.
Prefer, recommend ; I. i. 97.
Present, immediate; IV. iii. 5.
Presently, immediately ; IV. iv. 59.
Pricks, incites, III. ii. 74; "pricked
in," pinned in, stuck in, III. ii. 69.
Proceeders ; perhaps used equivo-
cally ; to proceed Master of Arts
is the academic term for taking
the degree ; IV. ii. 11.
Proper, handsome ; I. ii. 144.
Put finger in the eye, Weep in a
childish manner ; I. i. 78.
Quaint, fine (used ironically), III. ii.
147 ; elegant, IV. iii. 102.
Quantity, used in the sense of a very
small quantity; IV. iii. 112.
Rated, driven away by scolding ; I.
i. 164.
Rayed, dirtied, soiled; III. ii. 53;
IV. i. 3.
Rebused, Grumio's blunder for
" abused " ; I. ii. 7.
Reckoning, description ; IV. i. 82.
Redime te captum, &c, i.e. " Redeem
thyself, captive, for the least sum
thou canst " ; quoted from Terence
in Lily's Latin Grammar, whence
the writer no doubt derived the
line ; I. i. 166.
Rests, remains ; I. i. 249.
Reverend, reverent, respectful ; IV.
i. 199.
Ring, the prize ring ; Li. 144.
Rope-tricks, tricks deserving the
halter; Grumio's word for "rhe-
toric" (cp the Nurse's " ropery"
for " roguery," Rom. II. iv. 154)
I. ii. 112.
Roundly, straightway, directly, I. i.
59; bluntly, III. ii. 214; without
needless ceremony, IV. iv. 106 ;
used with a play on the word, V.
ii. 21.
Rudesby, rude clown ; III. ii. 10.
Ruffling (vide note) ; IV. iii. 60.
Rushes streiued ; referring to the old
custom of strewing the floors
with rushes ; IV. i. 46.
Sack, Spanish or Canary wine ; In-
duct, ii. 2.
Sadness, seriousness ; " in good s."
in all seriousness ; V. ii. 63.
Score, "fourteen pence on the s.";
Induct, ii. 24, reckoning, tally,
illustrated by the following por-
tion of a woodcut representing
the Festival of the Cobblers of
Paris, August 1st, 1641.
Glossary
THE TAMING
Scrivener, a writer of contracts ; IV.
iv. 59.
Sealed quarts, quart pots sealed as
being of legal size; Induct, ii. 90.
Secret, confidential ; I. i. 157.
Seen ; "well seen," well-skilled,
skilful ; I. ii. 134.
" Seize thee that list," i.e. let them
take thee that will; III. i. 91.
Sessa, " probably a cry used by way
of exhorting to swift running " ;
Induct, i. 6.
Sheathing, having a new sheath
made for it ; IV. i. 130.
Sheer ale, pure ale, unmixed ale ;
Induct, ii. 25.
Should ; when the priest should
ask, i.e. had in due course to
ask ; III. ii. 159.
Shreicd, bad, evil; I. i. 184.
Simple, foolish ; V. ii. 161.
Sith, since ; I. i. 215.
Skills, matters; III. ii. 132.
Skipper, used contemptuously for
frivolous youth ; II. i. 341.
Slipp'd, started, let slip ; V. ii.
52-
''Socrates' Xanthippe" (old eds.
" Zentippe" and " Zantippe");
the famous shrew of antiquity ;
I. ii. 71.
Soud, a word imitative of a noise
made by a person heated and
fatigued ; IV. i. 137.
Sorted to no proof , proved to be to no
purpose ; IV. iii. 43.
So very = so great ; I. i. 127.
Specialties, special deeds ; II. i. 127.
Speed, succeed ; I. ii. 247.
Spleen, sudden impulse of mirth ;
Induct, i. 137; ill temper, III. ii.
10.
Spoke — spoken ; II. i. 193.
Stale, laughing - stock ; probably
with a quibbling allusion to
"stale-mate" in chess; I. i. 58;
decoy, bait ; III. i. 90.
Stand, withstand; I. ii. 113.
Stay, restrain ; Induct, i. 134.
Stead, aid ; I. ii. 266.
Still, continually ; IV. i. 202.
Stock, stocking; III. ii. 66.
Stomach ; perhaps a play upon the
two senses of the word, i.e.
"appetite," and " choler " ; IV.
i. 153.
Stoop, yield ; a technical term in
falconry for coming down on
the prey ; IV. i. 186.
Straight, straightway, immediately ;
Induct, i. 52.
Strond(so all the old editions, except
Folio 1, which reads "strand"),
strand ; I. i. 174.
Suits; "in all suits," in every
respect ; Induct, i. 106.
Supposes, assumed characters ; (cp.
Ariosto's' " I suppositi," trans.
by Gascoigne as " The Supposes ") ;
V. i. 113.
S-weeting, a term of endearment ; IV.
iii. 36.
Swift, quick, with play upon the
word ; V. ii. 54.
S-wingc, lash ; V. ii. 104.
Ta'en; " orders . . . ta'en, "/.?. given;
I. ii. 126.
Tall, fine; IV. iv. 17.
Tender, tend ; Induct, i. 16.
Tents and canopies , probably bed hang-
ings ; II. i. 354.
Thirdborough, (Folios and Quarto
" head - borough, " Theobald's
correction), constable ; Induct,
i. 12.
Throughly, thoroughly; IV. iv. 11.
Took, gave ; III. ii. 163.
Toiuard, at hand, I. i. 68 ; obedient,
docile, V. ii. 182.
Toy! a trifle, nonsense! II. i.
404.
Trick, toy, trifle; IV. iii. 67.
Trot, woman, hag; I. ii. 79.
Trunk, broad, large; IV. iii. 142.
Turtles turtle-dove ; II. i. 209.
Tivangling, twanging; II. i. 159.
Tivink, twinkling ; II. i. 312.
OF THE SHREW
Glossary
Tivo-and-thirty , a pip out, " an old
cant phrase applied to a person
who was intoxicated ; derived
from the old game of Bone-ace
or One-and-Thirty"; pip = a spot
or mark on a card ; I. ii. 33.
Unable, weak, helpless ; V. ii.
169.
Unapt, unfit; V. ii. 166.
Uncase, undress; I. i. 211.
£//7<rc«.ffo/i/ = inconstant ; IV. ii. 14.
Undertake, assume ; IV. ii. 106.
Unmanner'd, unmannerly; IV. i. 161.
Unpini'd, not pinked or pierced with
eyelet holes; IV. i. 128.
Unreverent, disrespectful ; III. ii. 112.
Untoward, unmannerly ; IV. v. 79.
" Vail your stomachs," lower your
pride; V. ii. 176.
Velure, velvet ; III. ii. 61.
Venice gold, i.e. Venetian gold ; II.
i. 356.
Vied, challenged; II. i. 311.
Wants, are wanting; III. ii. 246.
Watch, keep from sleep ; a term in
falconry ; IV. i. 191.
Whatsoe'er, at any rate; I. ii. 216.
Who; " as who should say," as if to
say ; IV. iii. 13.
" Why, -when, I say?" an exclama-
tion of impatience ; IV. i. 138.
Widozvhood, rights as a widow ; II. i.
125.
Will ; " she will," probably an error
for " he will "; otherwise •' will "
should perhaps be "shall"; I. i.
188.
" Will you, nill you," whether you
will or not ; II. i. 273.
Wincot, probably a corruption of
Wilnecote or Wilmecot, about
three miles to the north of Strat-
ford; Robert Arden, Shakespeare's
grandfather, lived there {cp. Won-
cot, 2 Henry IV., V. i. 42) ; In-
duct, ii. 23.
Wish, commend ; I. i. 113 ; I. ii. 60.
With, by ; IV. iii. 111.
Woodcock, popularly used for a fool ;
I. ii. 161.
Worimanly, workmanlike ; Induct
ii. 62.
World; " 'tis a world," i.e. a won-
der; II. i. 313.
Yard, yard measure (which used to
be made of wood) ; IV. iii. 113.
Yellows, jaundice in horses ; III. ii.
54-
Yet, still ; Induct, ii. 69.
Yourself=you yourself; I. ii. 157.
THE TAMING
Notes.
Induct, i. 9. 'goby, Jeronimy '; a popular phrase from Kyd's Spanish Tragedy
— " the common butt of raillery to all the poets in Shakespeare's time."
Induct, i. 17. '■Brack Mcrriman ;' ' brach' usually means a female
hound, as in the next line; the sequence of thought requires • brach'
to be a verb : perhaps it is used in the sense of ' couple,' ' mate.' Hanmer
proposed ' leech ' ; Keightley, ' bathe ' ; Singer (ed. 2) ' trash,' &c.
Induct, i. 64. ' And he says he is,' &c, so the old eds. The reading is
probably correct; the line means 'when he says he is mad, say that he
dreams.' Rowe proposed ' And -when he says he's poor'; Keightley ' And
•when he says -what he is,' &.C.
Induct, i. 88. The Folio and Quarto prefix ' Sincklo,' the name of an
actor in Shakespeare's company, who is mentioned also in stage-direc-
tions of Quarto edition (1600) of 2 Henry IV., V. iv. and in the Folio, 3
Henry VI. III. i.
Induct. i. 88. 'Soto' is a character in Beaumont and Fletcher's Women Pleased.
Induct, ii. 89. ' And say you would present her at the led,
Because she bought stone jugs and no seald quarts'
The accompanying illustration, from a stall in Ludlow Church, represents the
punishment of an offender of Cicely Hacket's kind. A demon (whose head is missing)
is carrying the ale-wife with her gay head-dress and false measure towards hell-mouth
(on the right of the picture), while two other demons respectively play bagpipes and
read the catalogue of the offender's sins.
OF THE SHREW Notes
I. i. 32, Cp. The Taming of A Shrew : —
' Welcome to A thens, my belovedfriend,
To Plato's school and Aristotle s walks.''
I. i. 42. ' If Biondello, thou -wert' • the Collier MS. reads 'now were';
Dyce adopts this emendation.
I. i. 64. ' To comb your noddle ivith a three-legg'd stool' ; an old expression
occurring in Skelton's Merrie Tales. " Hys wife would divers times in
the weeke kimbe his head with a iii. footed stoole."
I. i. 239. '7, sir! ne'er a ■whit.'' Rowe proposed ' Ay, sir, ne'er,' &C. ;
Dyce, ' Ay, sir. — Ne'er.' It is difficult to determine whether '/' is the
personal pronoun, or stands, as is often the case, for ' Ay.'
I. i. 252-3. ' The presenters,' i.e. Sly and his attendants in the balcony
above.
I. ii. 28. ' what he 'leges in Latin'; the Folios and Quarto 'leges,' an
authorised form for ' alleges': Grumio, strange to say, though an Italian,
mistakes Italian for Latin.
I. ii. 151-2. 'paper' . . . 'them'; changed by Pope to ' papers': Mr
Daniel considers 'paper' to be the note of the 'boots,' and ' them ' the books.
II. i. 75-84. arranged as verse in the Folios and Quarto, first printed
as prose by Pope.
II. i. 202. ' no such jade as you ' ; probably an error for ' no jade for such as
you,' as conjectured by Hudson : many other less obvious emendations
have been proposed, e.g. ' no suck load as you, sir' (Singer), &c.
II. i. 207-9. 'buzzard' in this passage is a crux: its three senses are,
I think, punned on by the speakers: — (i.) a simpleton (1. 207); (ii.)
a mean hawk (11. 208, 209); in the latter case Petruchio interprets it as
(iii.) ' a buzzing insect,' hence ' you wasp ' (1. 210.) Katharine's reply
seems to mean : — ' that, in calling her a turtle, he has mistaken a hawk
for a dove'; underlying this retort there may be a suggestion of the
proverbial ' blind buzzard.'
II. i. 296. ' morn ' ; cp. Troilus, I. iii. 229 : —
' Modest as morning when she coldly eyes
The youthful Phoebus."
The Collier MS. has ' moone.'
II. i. 325. ' We -will have rings and things ' probably a fragment of an old
ballad. Collier quotes some lines bearing a very strong resemblance to
these " from the recitation of an old lady " — a vague authority.
II. i. 377. ' Marseilles' road,' Folio I and Quarto, ' Marcellus ' ; the other
Folios ' Marsellis' ; the word is obviously trisyllabic; the apostrophe is
not needed, cp. ' Venice gold,' ' Pisa -walls' in the previous speech.
III. i. 4. Theobald proposed ' she is a shre-w, but, ivrangling pedant, this is ' ;
3 Y
Notes
THE TAMING OF THE SHREW
evidently some words are lost, but it is useless to attempt the restoration
of the line, as there is no evidence.
III. ii. 16. ' make friends, invite, and proclaim the banns'1; so Folio I and
Quarto ; Folios 2 and 3 insert 'yes' before 'and.' The more noteworthy
suggestions are : — " Make friends invite, yes " (Singer) ; " make friends invite
guests " (Dyce) ; " make fasts, invite friends " (Dyce, ed. Z).
IV. i. 135. ' Where is the life that late I led'; a line of an old song,
quoted also by Pistol; cp. 2 Henry IV., V. iii. 147. Similarly ' // ivas
the friar of orders grey ' &c, is a bit of an old ballad, now lost.
IV. i. 203. ' to kill a wife with kindness,' a proverbial expression. Hey-
wood's play, A Woman Killed ivith Kindness, was first produced in 1602.
IV. ii. 45. ' 'longeth ' ; the Folios and Quartos, correctly, ' longelh,' with-
out apostrophe ; ' to long' in the sense of ' to belong' is common in older
English writings. Similarly 'pointed' in old eds., III. ii. 1.
IV. ii. 61. 'An ancient angel'; so the Folios and Quartos; Theobald
suggested ' engle ' (a gull) ; other proposals have been ayeul, gentle, morsel,
antick, &c. but no change is necessary. Cotgrave renders Angelot a lagrosse
escaille by "an old angell ; and by metaphor, a
fellow of the old, sound, honest and worthie stamp."
IV. iii. 60. ' ruffling treasure ' ; Pope changed
' ruffling ' to ' rustling ' ; perhaps we should read
' russling' (for 'rustling''), Cp. Lear, II. iv. 304,
where the Quarto reading is ' russet,' while the
Folios have ' ruffle.' Mrs Quickly's ' rushling in
silk and gold' {Merry Wives, II. ii. 68) seems to be an
important piece of evidence in favour of ' rustling.'
IV. iii . 90. ' Here's snip and nip and cut. ' A reference
to fashionable slashed sleeves. See illustration.
IV. iv. 62. ' Cambio,' probably an error for ' Biond-
ello,1 as suggested by the Cambridge editors, and
more satisfactory from a metrical point of view.
Again, "the supposed Cambio was not acting as
Baptista's servant, and moreover, had he been sent
on such an errand, he would have ' flown on the
wings of love ' to perform it. We must suppose
From the incised slab to that Biondello apparently makes his exit, but
the memory of Agnes rr '
Woolley, 1572, pre- really waits till the stage is clear for an interview
Church. ^ Matl°Ck with his disguised master."
V. i. 29. ' his father has come from Padua' so the
Folios and Quartos ; various changes have been proposed, e.g. 'to Padua,'
'from Pisa,' &c, but the Pedant means that he has been staying at Padua.
ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL
Preface.
The First Editions. All's Well that Ends Well appeared for the
first time in the First Folio. It is certain that no earlier edition existed;
the play was mentioned in the Stationers' Register under Nov. 8th, 1623,
among the plays not previously entered. The text of the first edition is
corrupt in many places, and gives the impression of having been care-
lessly printed from an imperfectly revised copy. There is no record of
the performance of All's Well that Ends Well during Shakespeare's lifetime;
the earliest theatrical notices belong to the middle of the eighteenth
century.
The Date Of Composition. The remarkable incongruity of
style characteristic of All's Well that Ends Well— the striking contrast of
mature and early work — can only be accounted for by regarding the
play as a recast of an earlier version of the comedy. Rhyming lines, the
sonnet-like letters, the lyrical dialogues and speeches, remind the reader
of such a play as Love's Labour's Lost. The following passages have not
inaptly been described as ' boulders from the old strata embedded in the
later deposits': — Act I. i. 226-239; I. iii. 133-141 ; II. i. 132-213; II.
iii. 73-105, 127-146; III. iv. 4-17; IV. iii. 237-245; V. iii. 60-72,
322-337.
It seems very probable, almost certain, that the play is a revision of
'Love's Labours Wonne,' mentioned by Meres in his Palladis Tamla (1598).
' Love's Labours Wonne ' has been variously identified by scholars with
Much Ado about Nothing, The Taming of the Shreiv, The Tempest. A Strong
case can, however, be made for the present play, and there is perhaps an
allusion to the old title in Helena's words (V. iii. 311-312) : —
' This is done;
Will you be mine, now you are doubly -won ? '
The play was probably originally a companion play to Love's Labour's
Lost, and was written about the years 1590-92. It may well have
Preface ALL'S WELL
belonged to the group of early comedies. The story, divested of its
tragic intensity, may perhaps link it to The Tivo Gentlemen of Verona ; the
original Helena may have been a twin-sister to the ' Helena ' of A
Midsummer Night's Dream • the diction and metre throughout may have
resembled the passages to which attention has already been called.
There is no very definite evidence for the date of the revision of the
play. The links which connect it with Hamlet are unmistakeable ; the
Countess's advice to Bertram anticipates Polonius's advice to Laertes ;
Helena's strength of will and clearness of purpose make her a sort of
counterpart to Hamlet, as she herself says : —
' Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,
Which ive ascribe to heaven ; the fated sky
Gives 11s free scope, only doth backward pull
Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull,'
(I. i. 236-9).
Furthermore, the name ' Corambus ' (IV. iii. 185) recalls the ' Corambis'
of the First Quarto of Hamlet • similarly the name ' Escalus ' is the name
of the Governor in Measure for Measure. In the latter play, indeed, we
have almost the same situation as in All's Well, — the honest intrigue of
a betrothed to win an irresponsive lover. Finally, the undoing of the
braggart Parolles recalls Falstaff's exposure in Henry IV., and Malvolio's
humiliation in Tivelfth Night. All things considered, the play, as we
have it, may safely be dated, ' about 1602.'
The Source Of the Plot, The story of Helena and Bertram was
derived by Shakespeare from the Decameron through the medium of
Paynter's translation in the Palace of Pleasure (1566). The Novels of the
Third Day of the Decameron tell of those lovers who have overcome insup-
erable obstacles ; they are, in fact, stories of ' Love's Labours Won,' and
if Shakespeare had turned to the Italian, the original title ' Love's Labour's
Won ' may have been suggested by the words connecting the Novels of
the Second and Third Days. The Ninth Novel of the Third Day narrates
how ' Giletta, a physician's daughter of Narbon, healed the French King
of a Fistula, for reward whereof she demanded Beltramo, Count of Ros-
6iglione, to husband. The Count being married against his will, for
despite fled to Florence and loved another. Giletta, his wife, by policy
found means to be with her husband in place of his lover, and was be-
gotten with child of two sons ; which known to her husband, he received
her again, and afterwards he lived in great honour and felicity.'
The following are among the most noteworthy of Shakespeare's varia-
tions from his original : — (i.) the whole interest of the story is centred
THAT ENDS WELL Preface
in the heroine — according to Coleridge, Shakespeare's ' loveliest creation ' ;
to this character-study, all else in the play is subordinated ; the poor
Helena of All's Well, unlike the wealthy Giletta of the Novel, derives
'no dignity or interest from place or circumstance,' and rests for all our
sympathy and respect solely upon the truth and intensity of her affections ;
(ii.) the moral character of Bertram, the Beltramo of the novel, is dark-
ened ; his personal beauty and valour is emphasized ; while (iii.) Shake-
speare has embodied his evil genius in the character of the vile Parolles,
of whom there is no hint in the original story; (iv.) similarly, generous
old Lafeu, the Countess, — ' like one of Titian's old ladies, reminding us
still amid their wrinkles of that soul of beauty and sensibility which
must have animated them when young' — the Steward, and the Clown,
are entirely his own creations.
Duration Of Action, The time of the play is eleven days, dis-
tributed over three months, arranged as follows by Mr Daniel (Trans, of
Neiv Shakespeare Soc, 1 877-79) : —
Day i, Act I. i. Interval. Bertram's journey to Court. Day 2, Act I.
ii. and iii. Interval. Helena's journey. Day 3, Act II. i. and ii. Interval.
Cure of the King's malady. Day 4, Act II. iii., iv. and v. Interval. Helena's
return to Rousillon. Bertram's journey to Florence. Day 5, Act III. i.
and ii. Day 6, Act III. iii. and iv. Interval — some two months. Day 7,
Act III. v. Day 8, Act III. vi. and vii. ; Act IV. i., ii. and iii. Day 9,
Act IV. iv. Interval. Bertram's return to Rousillon. Helena's return to
Marseilles. Day 10, Act IV. v. ; Act V. i. Day 11, Act V. ii. and iii.
DRAMATIS PERSONS.
King of France.
Duke of Florence.
Bertram, Count of Rousillon.
L.AFEU, an old lord.
Parolles, a follower of Bertram.
Steward, ^
T , \ servants to the Countess of Rousillon.
Lavache, a clotvn,)
A Page.
Countess of Rousillon, mother to Bertram.
Helena, a gentleivoman protected by the Countess.
An old Widow of Florence.
DlANA, daughter to the Widoiv.
VlOLENTA,'! J-. . i ur-j
>nei<rhl>ours ana friends to the fViaozv.
Mariana, J 6 '
Lords, Officers, Soldiers, &c, French and Florentine.
Scene : Rousillon ; Paris ; Florence ; Marseilles,
All's Well that Ends Well.
ACT FIRST.
Scene I.
Rousillon. The Count's palace.
Enter Bertram, the Countess of Rousillon, Helena, and
Lafeu, all in black.
Count. In delivering my son from me, I bury a second
husband.
Ber. And I in going, madam, weep o'er my father's
death anew : but I must attend his majesty's
command, to whom I am now in ward, ever-
more in subjection.
Laf. You shall find of the king a husband, madam ;
you, sir, a father : he that so generally is at all
times good, must of necessity hold his virtue to
you j whose worthiness would stir it up where io
it wanted, rather than lack it where there is such
abundance.
Count. What hope is there of his majesty's amend-
ment ?
Laf. He hath abandoned his physicians, madam ; under
whose practices he hath persecuted time with
hope, and finds no other advantage in the process
but only the losing of hope by time.
Count. This young gentlewoman had a father,— O,
that ' had ' ! how sad a passage 'tis ! — whose 10
Act I. Sc. i. ALL .s WELL
skill was almost as great as his honesty ; had
it stretched so far, would have made nature
immortal, and death should have play for lack
of work. Would, for the king's sake, he were
living ! I think it would be the death of the
king's disease.
Laf. How called you the man you speak of, madam ?
Count. He was famous, sir, in his profession, and
it was his great right to be so, — Gerard de
Narbon. 30
Laf He was excellent indeed, madam : the king very
lately spoke of him admiringly and mourningly :
he was skilful enough to have lived still, if
knowledge could be set up against mortality.
Ber. What is it, my good lord, the king languishes
of?
Laf. A fistula, my lord.
Ber. I heard not of it before.
Laf. I would it were not notorious. Was this gentle-
woman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon ? 40
Count. His sole child, my lord ; and bequeathed to
my overlooking. I have those hopes of her
good that her education promises ; her disposi-
tions she inherits, which makes fair gifts fairer ;
for where an unclean mind carries virtuous
qualities, there commendations go with pity ;
they are virtues and traitors too : in her they
are the better for their simpleness ; she derives
her honesty and achieves her goodness.
Laf. Your commendations, madam, get from her 50
tears.
Count. 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season her
THAT ENDS WELL Act l- Sc- »•
praise in. The remembrance of her father never
approaches her heart but the tyranny of her
sorrows takes all livelihood from her cheek.
No more of this, Helena, go to, no more ; lest
it be rather thought you affect a sorrow than to
have —
He/. I do affect a sorrow, indeed, but I have it too.
Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead ; 60
excessive grief the enemy to the living.
Count. If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess
makes it soon mortal.
Ber. Madam, I desire your holy wishes.
Laf How understand we that ?
Count. Be thou blest, Bertram, and succeed thy father
In manners, as in shape ! thy blood and virtue
Contend for empire in thee, and thy goodness
Share with thy birthright ! Love all, trust a few,
Do wrong to none : be able for thine enemy 70
Rather in power than use ; and keep thy friend
Under thy own life's key : be check'd for silence,
But never tax'd for speech. What heaven more will,
That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck down,
Fall on thy head ! Farewell, my lord ;
'Tis an unseason'd courtier ; good my lord,
Advise him.
Laf. He cannot want the best
That shall attend his love.
Count. Heaven bless him ! Farewell, Bertram. [Exit.
Ber. [to Helena] The best wishes that can be forged 80
in your thoughts be servants to you ! Be com-
fortable to my mother, your mistress, and make
much of her.
Act I. Sc. i. ALL'S WELL
Laf. Farewell, pretty lady : you must hold the credit
of your father. [Exeunt Bertram and Lafeu.
He/. O, were that all ! I think not on my father ;
And these great tears grace his remembrance more
Than those I shed for him. What was he like ?
I have forgot him : my imagination
Carries no favour in 't but Bertram's. 90
I am undone : there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away. 'Twere all one
That I should love a bright particular star
And think to wed it, he is so above me :
In his bright radiance and collateral light
Must I be comforted, not in his sphere.
The ambition in my love thus plagues itself:
The hind that would be mated by the lion
Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague,
To see him every hour; to sit and draw 100
His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,
In our heart's table ; heart too capable
Of every line and trick of his sweet favour :
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
Must sanctify his reliques. Who comes here ?
Enter Parolles.
[Aside] One that goes with him : I love him for his sake j
And yet I know him a notorious liar,
Think him a great way fool, solely a coward ;
Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him,
That they take place, when virtue's steely bones no
Look bleak i' the cold wind : withal, full oft we see
Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.
Par. Save you, fair queen !
THAT ENDS WELL Act I. Sc. i.
He/. And you, monarch !
Par. No. '
He/. And no.
Par. Are you meditating on virginity ?
He/. Ay. You have some stain of soldier in you :
let me ask you a question. Man is enemy to
virginity ; how may we barricado it against him ? 1 20
Par. Keep him out.
He/. But he assails ; and our virginity, though
valiant, in the defence yet is weak : unfold to
us some warlike resistance.
Par. There is none : man, sitting down before you,
will undermine you and blow you up.
He/. Bless our poor virginity from underminers and
blowers up ! Is there no military policy, how
virgins might blow up men ?
Par. Virginity being blown down, man will quicklier 130
be blown up : marry, in blowing him down
again, with the breach yourselves made, you
lose your city. It is not politic in the common-
wealth of nature to preserve virginity. Loss of
virginity is rational increase, and there was never
virgin got till virginity was first lost. That you
were made of is metal to make virgins. Vir-
ginity by being once lost may be ten times found ;
by being ever kept, it is ever lost : 'tis too cold
a companion ; away with 't ! 140
He/. I will stand for 't a little, though therefore I
die a virgin.
Par. There 's little can be said in 't ; 'tis against the
rule of nature. To speak on the part of vir-
ginity, is to accuse your mothers ; which is most
Act I. Sc. i. ALL'S WELL
infallible disobedience. He that hangs himself
is a virgin: virginity murders itself; and should
be buried in highways out of all sanctified limit,
as a desperate offendress against nature. Virginity
breeds mites, much like a cheese ; consumes itself 150
to the very paring, and so dies with feeding his
own stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish,
proud, idle, made of self-love, which is the most
inhibited sin in the canon. Keep it not ; you
cannot choose but lose by 't ; out with 't ! within
ten year it will make itself ten, which is a goodly
increase ; and the principal itself not much the
worse : away with 't !
He/. How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own liking ?
Par. Let me see: marry, ill, to like him that ne'er 160
it likes. 'Tis a commodity will lose the gloss
with lying ; the longer kept, the less worth : off
with 't while 'tis vendible : answer the time of
request. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears
her cap out of fashion ; richly suited, but unsuit-
able : just like the brooch and the tooth-pick,
which wear not now. Your date is better in
your pie and your porridge than in your cheek :
and your virginity, your old virginity, is like one
of our French withered pears, it looks ill, it 170
eats drily ; marry, 'tis a withered pear ; it was
formerly better ; marry, yet 'tis a withered pear :
will you any thing with it ?
He/. Not my virginity yet. — [You're for the Court ;]
There shall your master have a thousand loves,
A mother and a mistress and a friend,
A phoenix, captain, and an enemy,
THAT ENDS WELL Act I. Sc. i.
A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign,
A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear ;
His humble ambition, proud humility, 1 80
His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet,
His faith, his sweet disaster ; with a world
Of pretty, fond, adoptious Christendoms,
That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he —
I know not what he shall. God send him well !
The court 's a learning place, and he is one —
Par. What one, i' faith ?
Hel. That I wish well. 'Tis pity —
Par. What 's pity ?
Hel. That wishing well had not a body in 't, 190
Which might be felt ; that we, the poorer born,
Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes,
Might with effects of them follow our friends,
And show what we alone must think, which never
Returns us thanks.
Enter Page.
Page. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you. \Exit.
Par. Little Helen, farewell: if I can remember thee,
I will think of thee at court.
Hel. Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a
charitable star. 200
Par. Under Mars, I.
Hel. I especially think, under Mars.
Par. Why under Mars ?
Hel. The wars have so kept you under, that you
must needs be born under Mars.
Par. When he was predominant.
Hel. When he was retrograde, I think, rather.
Act I. Sc. i. ALL'S WELL
Par. Why think you so ?
Hel. You go so much backward when you fight.
Par. That \s for advantage. 2lo
Hel. So is running away, when fear proposes the
safety : but the composition that your valour and
fear makes in you is a virtue of a good wing, and
I like the wear well.
Par. I am so full of businesses, I cannot answer
thee acutely. I will return perfect courtier ;
in the which, my instruction shall serve to
naturalize thee, so thou wilt be capable of a
courtier's counsel, and understand what advice
shall thrust upon thee; else thou diest in thine 220
unthankfulness, and thine ignorance makes thee
away : farewell. When thou hast leisure, say
thy prayers ; when thou hast none, remember
thy friends : get thee a good husband, and use
him as he uses thee : so, farewell. [Exit.
Hel. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,
Which we ascribe to heaven : the fated sky
Gives us free scope ; only doth backward pull
Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull.
What power is it which mounts my love so high; 230
That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye ?
The mightiest space in fortune nature brings
To join like likes and kiss like native things.
Impossible be strange attempts to those
That weigh their pains in sense, and do suppose
What hath been cannot be : who ever strove
To show her merit, that did miss her love ?
The king's disease — my project may deceive me,
But my intents are fix'd, and will not leave me. [Exit.
THAT ENDS WELL Act I. Sc. ii.
Scene II.
Paris. The King's pa/ace.
Flourish of cornets. Enter the King of France with letters,
and divers Attendants.
King. The Florentines and Senoys are by the ears ;
Have fought with equal fortune, and continue
A braving war.
First Lord. So 'tis reported, sir.
King. Nay, 'tis most credible ; we here receive it
A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria,
"With caution, that the Florentine will move us
For speedy aid ; wherein our dearest friend
Prejudicates the business, and would seem
To have us make denial.
First Lord. His love and wisdom, 10
Approved so to your majesty, may plead
For amplest credence.
King. He hath arm'd our answer,
And Florence is denied before he comes :
Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to see
The Tuscan service, freely have they leave
To stand on either part.
Sec. Lord. It well may serve
A nursery to our gentry, who are sick
For breathing and exploit.
King. What 's he comes here ?
Enter Bertram, Lafeu, and Parolles.
First Lord. It is the Count Rousillon, my good lord,
Young Bertram.
King. Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face ; 20
Act I. Sc. ii. ALL 'S WELL
Frank nature, rather curious than in haste,
Hath well composed thee. Thy father's moral parts
Mayst thou inherit too ! Welcome to Paris.
Ber. My thanks and duty are your majesty's.
King. I would I had that corporal soundness now,
As when thy father and myself in friendship
First tried our soldiership ! He did look far
Into the service of the time, and was
Discipled of the bravest : he lasted long ;
But on us both did haggish age steal on, go
And wore us out of act. It much repairs me
To talk of your good father. In his youth
He had the wit, which I can well observe
To-day in our young lords ; but they may jest
Till their own scorn return to them unnoted
Ere they can hide their levity in honour :
So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness
Were in his pride or sharpness ; if they were,
His equal had awaked them ; and his honour,
Clock to itself, knew the true minute when 40
Exception bid him speak, and at this time
His tongue obey'd his hand : who were below him
He used as creatures of another place ;
And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks,
Making them proud of his humility,
In their poor praise he humbled. Such a man
Might be a copy to these younger times ;
Which, follow'd well, would demonstrate them now
But goers backward.
Ber. His good remembrance, sir,
Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb ; $0
So in approof lives not his epitaph
THAT ENDS WELL Act I. Sc. ii.
As in your royal speech.
King. Would I were with him ! He would always say —
Methinks I hear him now ; his plausive words
He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them,
To grow there and to bear, — ' Let me not live,' —
This his good melancholy oft began,
On the catastrophe and heel of pastime,
When it was out, — ' Let me not live,' quoth he,
' After my flame lacks oil, to be the snufF 60
Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses
All but new things disdain; whose judgements are
Mere fathers of their garments ; whose constancies
Expire before their fashions.' This he wish'd :
I after him do after him wish too,
Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home,
I quickly were dissolved from my hive,
To give some labourers room.
Sec. Lord. You are loved, sir;
They that least lend it you shall lack you first.
King. I fill a place, I know 't. How long is 't, count, 70
Since the physician at your father's died ?
He was much famed.
Ber. Some six months since, my lord.
King. If he were living, I would try him yet.
Lend me an arm ; the rest have worn me out
With several applications : nature and sickness
Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, count ;
My son 's no dearer.
Ber. Thank your majesty.
[Exeunt. Flourish.
3 z
Act I. Sc. iii. ALL *S WELL
Scene III.
Rousillon. The Count 's palace.
Enter Countess, Steward, and C/oivn.
Count. I will now hear ; what say you of this gentle-
woman ?
Stew. Madam, the care I have had to even your con-
tent, I wish might be found in the calendar of my
past endeavours ; for then we wound our modesty
and make foul the clearness of our deservings,
when of ourselves we publish them.
Count. What does this knave here ? Get you gone,
sirrah : the complaints I have heard of you I do
not all believe : 'tis my slowness that I do not ; io
for I know you lack not folly to commit them,
and have ability enough to make such knaveries
yours.
Clo. 'Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor
fellow.
Count. Well, sir.
Clo. No, madam, 'tis not so well that I am poor,
though many of the rich are damned : but, if I
may have your ladyship's good will to go to the
world, Isbel the woman and I will do as we 20
may.
Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar ?
Clo. I do beg your good will in this case.
Count. In what case ?
Clo. In Isbel's case and mine own. Service is no
heritage : and I think I shall never have the
blessing of God till I have issue o' my body ;
for they say barnes are blessings.
THAT ENDS WELL Act I. Sc. iii.
Count. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry.
Clo. My poor body, madam, requires it : I am driven 30
on by the flesh ; and he must needs go that the
devil drives.
Count. Is this all your worship's reason ?
Clo. Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, such as
they are.
Count. May the world know them ?
Clo. I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you
and all flesh and blood are ; and, indeed, I do
marry that I may repent.
Count. Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedness. 40
Clo. I am out o' friends, madam ; and I hope to have
friends for my wife's sake.
Count. Such friends are thine enemies, knave.
Clo. You 're shallow, madam, in great friends ; for
the knaves come to do that for me, which I am
aweary of. He that ears my land spares my
team, and gives me leave to in the crop ; if I be
his cuckold, he's my drudge: he that comforts
my wife is the cherisher of my flesh and blood ;
he that cherishes my flesh and blood loves my 50
flesh and blood ; he that loves my flesh and blood
is my friend : ergo, he that kisses my wife is my
friend. If men could be contented to be what
they are, there were no fear in marriage ; for young
Charbon the puritan and old Poysam the papist,
howsome'er their hearts are severed in religion,
their heads are both one ; they may joul horns
together, like any deer i' the herd.
Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and calum-
nious knave ? <5o t
Act I. Sc. iii. ALL 'S WELL
Clo. A prophet I, madam ; and 1 speak the truth the
next way :
For I the ballad will repeat,
Which men full true shall find ;
Your marriage comes by destiny,
Your cuckoo sings by kind.
Count. Get you gone, sir ; I '11 talk with you more
anon.
Steiv. May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen
come to you : of her I am to speak. 70
Count. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak
with her ; Helen I mean.
Clo. Was this fair face the cause, quoth she,
Why the Grecians sacked Troy ?
Fond done, done fond,
Was this King Priam's joy ?
With that she sighed as she stood,
With that she sighed as she stood,
And gave this sentence then ;
Among nine bad if one be good, 80
Among nine bad if one be good,
There 's yet one good in ten.
Count. What, one good in ten ? you corrupt the song,
sirrah.
Clo. One good woman in ten, madam ; which is a
purifying o' the song : would God would serve
the world so all the year ! we 'd find no fault
with the tithe-woman, if I were the parson : one
in ten, quoth a' ! an we might have a good woman
born but one every blazing star, or at an earth- 00
THAT ENDS WELL Act I. Sc. iii.
quake, 'twould mend the lottery well : a man
may draw his heart out, ere a' pluck one.
Count. You '11 be gone, sir knave, and do as I com-
mand you.
Clo. That man should be at woman's command, and
yet no hurt done ! Though honesty be no puri-
tan, yet it will do no hurt ; it will wear the sur-
plice of humility over the black gown of a big
heart. I am going, forsooth : the business is for
Helen to come hither. [Exit. loo
Count. Well, now.
Steiv. I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman
entirely.
Count. Faith, I do : her father bequeathed her to me ;
and she herself, without other advantage, may
lawfully make title to as much love as she finds :
there is more owing her than is paid ; and more
shall be paid her than she'll demand.
Stew. Madam, I was very late more near her than I
think she wished me : alone she was, and did 1 10
communicate to herself her own words to her
own ears ; she thought, I dare vow for her, they
touched not any stranger sense. Her matter
was, she loved your son : Fortune, she said, was
no goddess, that had put such difference betwixt
their two estates ; Love no god, that would not
extend his might, only where qualities were
level ; . . . queen of virgins, that would suffer
her poor knight surprised, without rescue in
the first assault, or ransom afterward. This she 120
delivered in the most bitter touch of sorrow that
e'er I heard virgin exclaim in : which I held my
Act I. Sc. Hi. ALL'S WELL
duty speedily to acquaint you withal ; sithence,
in the loss that may happen, it concerns you
something to know it.
Count. You have discharged this honestly ; keep it
to yourself: many likelihoods informed me of
this before, which hung so tottering in the bal-
ance, that I could neither believe nor misdoubt.
Pray you, leave me: stall this in your bosom; 130
and I thank you for your honest care : I will
speak with you further anon. [Exit Steward.
Enter Helena.
Even so it was with me when I was young :
If ever we are nature's, these are ours ; this thorn
Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong ;
Our blood to us, this to our blood is born ;
It is the show and seal of nature's truth,
Where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth ;
By our remembrances of days foregone,
Such were our faults, or then we thought them none.
Her eye is sick on't : I observe her now. 141
Hel. What is your pleasure, madam ?
Count. You know, Helen,
I am a mother to you.
Hel. Mine honourable mistress.
Count. Nay, a mother :
Why not a mother ? When I said ' a mother,'
Mcthought you saw a serpent : what 's in ' mother,'
That you start at it ? I say, I am your mother ;
And put you in the catalogue of those
That were enwombed mine : 'tis often seen
Adoption strives with nature; and choice breeds 150
THAT ENDS WELL Act I. Sc. iii.
A native slip to us from foreign seeds :
You ne'er oppress'd me with a mother's groan,
Yet I express to you a mother's care :
God's mercy, maiden ! does it curd thy blood
To say I am thy mother ? What 's the matter,
That this distemper'd messenger of wet,
The many-colour'd Iris, rounds thine eye ?
Why ? that you are my daughter ?
Hel. That I am not.
Count. I say, I am your mother.
Hel. Pardon, madam ;
The Count Rousillon cannot be my brother: 160
I am from humble, he from honour'd name ;
No note upon my parents, his all noble ;
My master, my dear lord he is ; and I
His servant live and will his vassal die :
He must not be my brother.
Count. Nor I your mother ?
Hel. You are my mother, madam ; would you were, —
So that my lord your son were not my brother, —
Indeed my mother ! or were you both our mothers,
I care no more for than I do for heaven,
So I were not his sister. Can't no other, 1 70
But I your daughter, he must be my brother ?
Count. Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter-in-law :
God shield you mean it not ! daughter and mother
So strive upon your pulse. What, pale again ?
My fear hath catch'd your fondness : now I see
The mystery of your loneliness, and find
Your salt tears' head : now to all sense 'tis gross
You love my son ; invention is ashamed,
Against the proclamation of thy passion,
Act I. Sc. iii. ALL 'S WELL
To say thou dost not ; therefore tell me true ; 180
But tell me then, 'tis so ; for, look, thy cheeks
Confess it, th' one to th' other ; and thine eyes
See it so grossly shown in thy behaviours,
That in their kind they speak it : only sin
And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue,
That truth should be suspected. Speak, is't so?
If it be so, you have wound a goodly clew ;
If it be not, forswear 't : howe'er, I charge thee,
As heaven shall work in me for thine avail,
To tell me truly.
He/. Good madam, pardon me! 190
Count. Do you love my son ?
He/. Your pardon, noble mistress !
Count. Love you my son ?
He/. Do not you love him, madam ?
Count. Go not about ; my love hath in 't a bond,
Whereof the world takes note : come, come, disclose
The state of your affection ; for your passions
Have to the full appeach'd.
He/. Then, I confess,
Here on my knee, before high heaven and you,
That before you, and next unto high heaven,
I love your son.
My friends were poor, but honest ; so 's my love : 200
Be not offended ; for it hurts not him
That he is loved of me : I follow him not
By any token of presumptuous suit ;
Nor would I have him till I do deserve him ;
Yet never know how that desert should be.
I know I love in vain, strive against hope ;
Yet, in this captious and intenible sieve,
THAT ENDS WELL Act I. Sc. iii.
I still pour in the waters of my love,
And lack not to lose still : thus, Indian-like,
Religious in mine error, I adore 2lo
The sun, that looks upon his worshipper,
But knows of him no more. My dearest madam,
Let not your hate encounter with my love
For loving where you do ; but if yourself,
Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth,
Did ever in so true a flame of liking
Wish chastely and love dearly, that your Dian
Was both herself and love ; O, then, give pity
To her, whose state is such, that cannot choose
But lend and give where she is sure to lose ; 220
That seeks not to find that her search implies,
But riddle-like lives sweetly where she dies !
Count. Had you not lately an intent, — speak truly, —
To go to Paris ?
Hel. Madam, I had.
Count. Wherefore ? tell true.
Hel. I will tell truth ; by grace itself I swear.
You know my father left me some prescriptions
Of rare and proved effects, such as his reading
And manifest experience had collected
For general sovereignty ; and that he will'd me
In heedfull'st reservation to bestow them, 230
As notes, whose faculties inclusive were,
More than they were in note : amongst the rest,
There is a remedy, approved, set down,
To cure the desperate languishings whereof
The king is render'd lost.
Count. This was your motive
For Paris, was it ? speak.
Act I. Sc. iii. ALL 'S WELL
HI. My lord your son made me to think of this ;
Else Paris, and the medicine, and the king,
Had from the conversation of my thoughts
Haply been absent then.
Count. But think you, Helen, 240
If you should tender your supposed aid,
He would receive it ? he and his physicians
Are of a mind ; he, that they cannot help him,
They, that they cannot help : how shall they credit
A poor unlearned virgin, when the schools,
Embowell'd of their doctrine, have left off
The danger to itself?
He/. There's something in't,
More than my father's skill, which was the great'st
Of his profession, that his good receipt
Shall for my legacy be sanctified 250
By the luckiest stars in heaven : and, would your honour
But give me leave to try success, I 'Id venture
The well-lost life of mine on his Grace's cure
By such a day and hour.
Count. Dost thou believe 't ?
He/. Ay, madam, knowingly.
Count. Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave and love,
Means and attendants, and my loving greetings
To those of mine in court : I '11 stay at home
And pray God's blessings into thy attempt :
Be gone to-morrow ; and be sure of this, 260
What I can help thee to, thou shalt not miss.
[Exeunt.
THAT ENDS WELL Act II. Sc. i.
ACT SECOND.
Scene I.
Paris. The King s palace.
Flourish of cornets. Enter the King, attended ivith divers
young Lords taking leave for the Florentine war ; Bertram,
and Parolles.
King. Farewell, young lords \ these warlike principles
Do not throw from you : and you, my lords, farewell :
Share the advice betwixt you ; if both gain, all
The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis received,
And is enough for both.
First Lord. 'Tis our hope, sir,
After well-enter'd soldiers, to return
And find your Grace in health.
King. No, no, it cannot be ; and yet my heart
Will not confess he owes the malady
That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords ; io
Whether I live or die, be you the sons
Of worthy Frenchmen : let higher Italy, —
Those bated that inherit but the fall
Of the last monarchy,— see that you come
Not to woo honour, but to wed it ; when
The bravest questant shrinks, find what you seek,
That fame may cry you loud : I say, farewell.
Sec. Lord. Health, at your bidding, serve your majesty !
King. Those girls of Italy, take heed of them :
They say, our French lack language to deny, 20
If they demand : beware of being captives,
Before you serve.
Both. Our hearts receive your warnings.
Act II. Sc. i. ALL'S WELL
King, Farewell. Come hither to me. [Exit.
First Lord. O my sweet lord, that you will stay behind us !
Par. 'Tis not his fault, the spark.
Sec. Lord. O, 'tis brave wars !
Par. Most admirable : I have seen those wars.
Ber. I am commanded here, and kept a coil with
' Too young,' and ' the next year,' and ' 'tis too early.'
Par. An thy mind stand to 't, boy, steal away bravely.
Ber. I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock, 30
Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry,
Till honour be bought up, and no sword worn
But one to dance with ! By heaven, I '11 steal away.
First Lord. There 's honour in the theft.
Par. Commit it, count.
Sec. Lord. I am your accessary ; and so, farewell.
Ber. I grow to you, and our parting is a tortured body.
First Lord. Farewell, captain.
Sec. Lord. Sweet Monsieur Parolles !
Par. Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. 40
Good sparks and lustrous, a word, good metals :
you shall find in the regiment of the Spinii one
Captain Spurio, with his cicatrice, an emblem
of war, here on his sinister cheek ; it was this
very sword entrenched it: say to him, I live-,
and observe his reports for me.
First Lord. We shall, noble captain. [Exeunt Lords.
Par. Mars dote on you for his novices ! what will
ye do ?
Ber. Stay : the king. 5°
Re-enter King.
Par. [Aside to Ber.~\ Use a more spacious ceremony
to the noble lords ; you have restrained your-
THAT ENDS WELL Act II. Sc. i
self within the list of too cold an adieu : be
more expressive to them : for they wear them-
selves in the cap of the time, there do muster
true gait, eat, speak, and move under the influence
of the most received star ; and though the devil
lead the measure, such are to be followed : after
them, and take a more dilated farewell.
Ber. And I will do so. 60
Par. Worthy fellows ; and like to prove most sinewy
sword-men. [Exeunt Bertram and Parolles.
Enter Lafeu.
Laf. [Kneeling] Pardon, my lord, for me and for my
tidings.
King. I '11 fee thee to stand up.
Laf. Then here's a man stands, that has brought his
pardon.
I would you had kneel'd, my lord, to ask me mercy ;
And that at my bidding you could so stand up.
King. I would I had ; so I had broke thy pate,
And ask'd thee mercy for 't.
Laf. Good faith, across : but, my good lord, 'tis thus ; 70
Will you be cured of your infirmity ?
King. No.
Laf. O, will you eat no grapes, my royal fox ?
Yes, but you will my noble grapes, an if
My royal fox could reach them : I have seen a medicine
That 's able to breathe life into a stone,
Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary
With spritely fire and motion ; whose simple touch
Is powerful to araise King Pepin, nay,
To give great Charlemain a pen in 's hand, 80
Act II. Sc. i. ALL'S WELL
And write to her a love-line.
King. What ' her ' is this ?
Laf. Why, Doctor She : my lord, there's one arrived,
If yon will see her : now, by my faith and honour,
If seriously I may convey my thoughts
In this my light deliverance, I have spoke
With one that, in her sex, her years, profession,
Wisdom and constancy, hath amazed me more
Than I dare blame my weakness : will you see her,
For that is her demand, and know her business ?
That done, laugh well at me.
King. Now, good Lafeu, 90
Bring in the admiration ; that we with thee
May spend our wonder too, or take off thine
By wondering how thou took'st it.
Laf. Nay, I'll fit you,
And not be all day neither. [Exit.
King. Thus he his special nothing ever prologues.
Re-enter Lafeu, ivith Helena.
Laf. Nay, come your ways.
King. This haste hath wings indeed.
Laf. Nay, come your ways ;
This is his majesty, say your mind to him :
A traitor you do look like ; but such traitors
His majesty seldom fears : I am Cressid's uncle, 100
That dare leave two together; fare you well. [Exit.
King. Now, fair one, does your business follow us ?
He/. Ay, my good lord.
Gerard de Narbon was my father ;
In what he did profess, well found.
King. I knew him.
THAT ENDS WELL Act II. Sc. i.
He/. The rather will I spare my praises towards him ;
Knowing him is enough. On 's bed of death
Many receipts he gave me ; chiefly one,
Which, as the dearest issue of his practice,
And of his old experience the only darling, Iio
He bade me store up, as a triple eye,
Safer than mine own two, more dear ; I have so :
And, hearing your high majesty is touch'd
With that malignant cause, wherein the honour
Of my dear father's gift stands chief in power,
I come to tender it and my appliance,
With all bound humbleness.
King. We thank you, maiden ;
But may not be so credulous of cure,
When our most learned doctors leave us, and
The congregated college have concluded 1 20
That labouring art can never ransom nature
From her inaidible estate ; I say we must not
So stain our judgement, or corrupt our hope,
To prostitute our past-cure malady
To empirics, or to dissever so
Our great self and our credit, to esteem
A senseless help, when help past sense we deem.
He/. My duty, then, shall pay me for my pains :
I will no more enforce mine office on you ;
Humbly entreating from your royal thoughts 1 30
A modest one, to bear me back again.
King. I cannot give thee less, to be call'd grateful :
Thou thought'st to help me ; and such thanks I give
As one near death to those that wish him live :
But, what at full I know, thou know'st no part ;
I knowing all my peril, thou no art.
Act II. Sc. i. ALL'S WELL
Hel. What I can do can do no hurt to try,
Since you set up your rest 'gainst remedy.
He that of greatest works is finisher,
Oft does them by the weakest minister : 140
So holy writ in babes hath judgement shown,
When judges have been babes; great floods have flown
From simple sources ; and great seas have dried,
When miracles have by the greatest been denied.
Oft expectation fails, and most oft there
Where most it promises ; and oft it hits
Where hope is coldest, and despair most fits.
King. I must not hear thee ; fare thee well, kind maid ;
Thy pains not used must by thyself be paid :
Proffers not took reap thanks for their reward. 150
Hel. Inspired merit so by breath is barr'd :
It is not so with Him that all things knows,
As 'tis with us that square our guess by shows ;
But most it is presumption in us when
The help of heaven we count the act of men.
Dear sir, to my endeavours give consent ;
Of heaven, not me, make an experiment.
I am not an impostor, that proclaim
Myself against the level of mine aim ;
But know I think, and think I know most sure, 160
My art is not past power, nor you past cure.
King. Art thou so confident ? within what space
Hopest thou my cure ?
Hel. The great'st grace lending grace,
Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring
Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring ;
Ere twice in murk and occidental damp
Moist Hesperus hath quench'd his sleepy lamp ;
THAT ENDS WELL Act II. Sc. i.
Or four and twenty times the pilot's glass
Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass ;
What is infirm from your sound parts shall fly, 170
Health shall Jive free, and sickness freely die.
King. Upon thy certainty and confidence
What darest thou venture ?
Hel. Tax of impudence,
A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame
Traduced by odious ballads : my maiden's name
Sear'd otherwise, ne worse of worst extended,
With vilest torture let my life be ended.
King. Methinks in thee some blessed spirit doth speak
His powerful sound within an organ weak :
And what impossibility would slay 180
In common sense, sense saves another way.
Thy life is dear ; for all, that life can rate
Worth name of life, in thee hath estimate,
Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, all
That happiness and prime can happy call :
Thou this to hazard needs must intimate
Skill infinite or monstrous desperate.
Sweet practiser, thy physic I will try,
That ministers thine own death if I die.
Hel. If I break time, or flinch in property 190
Of what I spoke, unpitied let me die,
And well deserved : not helping, death 's my fee j
But, if I help, what do you promise me ?
King. Make thy demand.
Hel. But will you make it even ?
King. Ay, by my sceptre and my hopes of heaven.
Hel. Then shalt thou give me with thy kingly hand
What husband in thy power I will command :
3 A2
Act II. So ii. ALL'S WELL
Exempted be from me the arrogance
To choose from forth the royal blood of France,
My low and humble name to propagate 200
With any branch or image of thy state ;
But such a one, thy vassal, whom I know
Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow.
King. Here is my hand ; the premises observed,
Thy will by my performance shall be served :
So make the choice of thy own time : for I,
Thy resolved patient, on thee still rely.
More should I question thee, and more I must,
Though more to know could not be more to trust,
From whence thou earnest, how tended on : but rest
Unquestion'd welcome, and undoubted blest. 21 1
Give me some help here, ho ! If thou proceed
As high as word, my deed shall match thy deed.
\Elourish. Exeunt.
Scene II.
Rousillon. The Count's palace.
Enter Countess and Cloivn.
Count. Come on, sir ; I shall now put you to the
height of your breeding.
Clo. I will show myself highly fed and lowly taught :
I know my business is but to the court.
Count. To the court ! why, what place make you
special, when you put off that with such con-
tempt ? But to the court !
Clo. Truly, madam, if God have lent a man any
manners, he may easily put it off at court : he
that cannot make a leg, put off 's cap, kiss his 10
THAT ENDS WELL Act II. Sc. ii.
hand, and say nothing, has neither leg, hands,
lip, nor cap ; and, indeed, such a fellow, to say
precisely, were not for the court ; but for me, I
have an answer will serve all men.
Count. Marry, that's a bountiful answer that fits all
questions.
Clo. It is like a barber's chair, that fits all buttocks,
the pin-buttock, the quatch-buttock, the brawn-
buttock, or any buttock.
Count. Will your answer serve fit to all questions ? 20
Clo. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney,
as your French crown for your taffeta punk, as
Tib's rush for Tom's forefinger, as a pancake
for Shrove Tuesday, a morris for May-day, as
the nail to his hole, the cuckold to his horn, as
a scolding quean to a wrangling knave, as the
nun's lip to the friar's mouth, nay, as the pudding
to his skin.
Count. Have you, I say, an answer of such fitness for
all questions ? oQ
Clo. From below your duke to beneath your constable,
it will fit any question.
Count. It must be an answer of most monstrous size
that must fit all demands.
Clo. But a trifle neither, in good faith, if the learned
should speak truth of it : here it is, and all that
belongs to 't. Ask me if I am a courtier : it shall
do you no harm to learn.
Count. To be young again, if we could : I will
be a fool in question, hoping to be the wiser 40
by your answer. I pray you, sir, are you a
courtier ?
Act II. Sc. ii. ALL'S WELL
Clo. O Lord, sir! There's a simple putting off.
More, more, a hundred of them.
Count. Sir, I am a poor friend of yours, that loves
you.
Clo. O Lord, sir ! Thick, thick, spare not me.
Count. I think, sir, you can eat none of this homely
meat.
Clo. O Lord, sir ! Nay, put me to 't, I warrant you. 50
Count. You were lately whipped, sir, as I think.
Clo. O Lord, sir ! spare not me.
Count. Do you cry, ' O Lord, sir ! ' at your whipping,
and ' spare not me ' ? Indeed your ' O Lord,
sir ! ' is very sequent to your whipping : you
would answer very well to a whipping, if you
were but bound to 't.
Clo. I ne'er had worse luck in my life in my ' O Lord,
sir ! ' I see things may serve long, but not serve
ever. 60
Count. I play the noble housewife with the time,
To entertain 't so merrily with a fool.
Clo. O Lord, sir ! why, there 't serves well again.
Count. An end, sir ; to your business. Give Helen this,
And urge her to a present answer back :
Commend me to my kinsmen and my son :
This is not much.
Clo. Not much commendation to them.
Count. Not much employment for you : you under-
stand me ? 7°
Clo. Most fruitfully : I am there before my legs.
Count. Haste you again. \_Exeunt severally.
THAT ENDS WELL Act II. Sc iii.
Scene III.
Paris. The King's pa/ace.
Enter Bertram, Lafeu, and Parolles.
Laf. They say miracles are past ; and we have our
philosophical persons, to make modern and
familiar, things supernatural and causeless.
Hence is it that we make trifles of terrors ; en-
sconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge, when
we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear.
Par. Why, 'tis the rarest argument of wonder that
hath shot out in our latter times.
Ber. And so 'tis.
Laf. To be relinquished of the artists, — 10
Par. So I say ; both of Galen and Paracelsus.
Laf. Of all the learned and authentic fellows, —
Par. Right ; so I say.
Laf. That gave him out incurable, —
Par. Why, there 'tis ; so say I too.
Laf. Not to be helped, —
Par. Right ; as 'twere, a man assured of a —
Laf. Uncertain life, and sure death.
Par. Just, you say well ; so would I have said.
Laf. I may truly say, it is a novelty to the world. 20
Par. It is, indeed : if you will have it in showing, you
shall read it in — what do ye call there ?
Laf. A showing of a heavenly effect in an earthly
actor.
Par. That 's it ; I would have said the very same.
Laf. Why, your dolphin is not lustier : 'fore me, I
speak in respect —
Par. Nay, 'tis strange, 'tis very strange, that is the
Act II. Sc. iii. ALL'S WELL
brief and the tedious of it ; and he 's of a most
facinerious spirit that will not acknowledge it to 30
be the —
Laf Very hand of heaven.
Par. Ay, so I say.
Laf In a most weak —
Par. And debile minister, great power, great tran-
scendence : which should, indeed, give us a
further use to be made than alone the recovery
of the king, as to be —
Laf. Generally thankful.
Par. I would have said it ; you say well. Here 40
comes the king.
Enter Khig, Helena, and Attendants.
Laf. Lustig, as the Dutchman says: I'll like a maid
the better, whilst I have a tooth in my head :
why, he 's able to lead her a coranto.
Par. Mort du vinaigre ! is not this Helen ?
Laf. 'Fore God, I think so.
King. Go, call before me all the lords in court.
Sit, my preserver, by thy patient's side;
And with this healthful hand, whose banish'd sense,
Thou hast repeal'd, a second time receive 5°
The confirmation of my promised gift,
Which but attends thy naming.
Enter three or four Lords.
Fair maid, send forth thine eye : this youthful parcel
Of noble bachelors stand at my bestowing,
O'er whom both sovereign power and father's voice
I have to use : thy frank election make ;
THAT ENDS WELL Act II. Sc. iii.
Thou hast power to choose, and they none to forsake.
Hel. To each of you one fair and virtuous mistress
Fall, when Love please ! marry, to each, but one !
Laf. I 'Id give bay Curtal and his furniture, 60
My mouth no more were broken than these boys',
And writ as little beard.
King. Peruse them well :
Not one of those but had a noble father.
Hel. Gentlemen,
Heaven hath through me restored the king to health.
All. We understand it, and thank heaven for you.
Hel. I am a simple maid ; and therein wealthiest,
That I protest I simply am a maid.
Please it your majesty, I have done already :
The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me, Jo
'We blush that thou shouldst choose; but, be refused,
Let the white death sit on thy cheek for ever;
We '11 ne'er come there again.'
King. Make choice ; and, see,
Who shuns thy love shuns all his love in me.
Hel. Now, Dian, from thy altar do I fly ;
And to imperial love, that God most high,
Do my sighs stream. Sir, will you hear my suit ?
First Lord. And grant it.
Hel. Thanks, sir ; all the rest is mute.
Laf. I had rather be in this choice than throw ames-
ace for my life. 80
Hel. The honour, sir, that flames in your fair eyes,
Before I speak, too threateningly replies ;
Love make your fortunes twenty times above
Her that so wishes and her humble love !
Sec. Lord. No better, if you please.
Act II. Sc. iii. ALL'S WELL
He/. My wish receive,
Which great Love grant ! and so, I take my leave.
Laf Do all they deny her? An they were sons of
mine, I 'Id have them whipped ; or I would send
them to the Turk to make eunuchs of.
He/. Be not afraid that I your hand should take ; 90
I '11 never do you wrong for your own sake :
Blessing upon your vows ! and in your bed
Find fairer fortune, if you ever wed !
Laf. These boys are boys of ice, they '11 none have
her : sure, they are bastards to the English j the
French ne'er got 'em.
He/. You are too young, too happy, and too good,
To make yourself a son out of my blood.
Fourth Lord. Fair one, I think not so.
Laf. There's one grape yet; I am sure thy father loo
drunk wine : but if thou be'st not an ass, I am
a youth of fourteen ; I have known thee already .
He/. [To Bertram] I dare not say I take you ; but I give
Me and my service, ever whilst I live,
Into your guiding power. This is the man.
King. Why, then, young Bertram, take her; she's thy
wife.
Ber. My wife, my liege ! I shall beseech your highness,
In such a business give me leave to use 109
The help of mine own eyes.
King. Know'st thou not, Bertram,
What she has done for me ?
Ber. Yes, my good lord ;
But never hope to know why I should marry her.
King. Thou know'st she has raised me from my sickly bed.
Ber. But follows it, my lord, to bring me down
THAT ENDS WELL Act II. Sc. iii.
Must answer for your raising ? I know her well :
She had her breeding at my father's charge.
A poor physician's daughter my wife ! Disdain
Rather corrupt me ever !
King. 'Tis only title thou disdain'st in her, the which
I can build up. Strange is it, that our bloods, 120
Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together,
Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off
In differences so mighty. If she be
All that is virtuous, save what thou dislikest,
A poor physician's daughter, thou dislikest
Of virtue for the name : but do not so :
From lowest place when virtuous things proceed,
The place is dignified by the doer's deed :
Where great additions swell's, and virtue none,
It is a dropsied honour. Good alone 130
Is good without a name. Vileness is so :
The property by what it is should go,
Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair ;
In these to nature she 's immediate heir,
And these breed honour : that is honour's scorn,
Which challenges itself as honour's born,
And is not like the sire : honours thrive,
When rather from our acts we them derive
Than our foregoers : the mere word 's a slave
Debosh'd on every tomb, on every grave 140
A lying trophy ; and as oft is dumb
Where dust and damn'd oblivion is the tomb
Of honour'd bones indeed. What should be said ?
If thou canst like this creature as a maid,
I can create the rest : virtue and she
Is her own dower ; honour and wealth from me.
Act II. Sc. iii. ALL'S WELL
Ber. I cannot love her, nor will strive to do't.
King. Thou wrong'st thyself, if" thou shouldst strive to
choose.
He/. That you are well restored, my lord, I 'm glad :
Let the rest go. 150
King. My honour's at the stake ; which to defeat,
I must produce my power. Here, take her hand,
Proud scornful boy, unworthy this good gift ;
That dost in vile misprision shackle up
My love and her desert ; that canst not dream,
We, poising us in her defective scale,
Shall weigh thee to the beam ; that wilt not know,
It is in us to plant thine honour where
We please to have it grow. Check thy contempt :
Obey our will, which travails in thy good : 160
Believe not thy disdain, but presently
Do thine own fortunes that obedient right
Which both thy duty owes and our power claims ;
Or I will throw thee from my care for ever
Into the staggers and the careless lapse
Of youth and ignorance ; both my revenge and hate
Loosing upon thee, in the name of justice,
Without all terms of pity. Speak ; thine answer.
Ber. Pardon, my gracious lord ; for I submit
My fancy to your eyes : when I consider 170
What great creation and what dole of honour
Flies where you bid it, I find that she, which late
Was in my nobler thoughts most base, is now
The praised of the king ; who, so ennobled,
Is as 't were born so.
King. Take her by the hand,
And tell her she is thine : to whom I promise
THAT ENDS WELL Act II. Sc. iii.
A counterpoise ; if not to thy estate,
A balance more replete.
Ber. I take her hand.
King. Good fortune and the favour of the king
Smile upon this contract ; whose ceremony 1 80
Shall seem expedient on the now-born brief,
And be perform'd to-night : the solemn feast
Shall more attend upon the coming space,
Expecting absent friends. As thou lovest her,
Thy love 's to me religious ; else, does err.
[Exeunt all but Lafeu and Parolles.
Laf. Do you hear, monsieur ? a word with you.
Par. Your pleasure, sir ?
Laf. Your lord and master did well to make his
recantation.
Par. Recantation! My lord ! my master ! roo
Laf. Ay ; is it not a language I speak?
Par. A most harsh one, and not to be understood
without bloody succeeding. My master !
Laf. Are you companion to the Count Rousillon ?
Par. To any count, to all counts, to what is man.
Laf To what is count's man : count's master is of
another style.
Par. You are too old, sir; let it satisfy you, you are
too old.
Laf I must tell thee, sirrah, I write man ; to which 200
title age cannot bring thee.
Par. What I dare too well do, I dare not do.
Laf I did think thee, for two ordinaries, to be a
pretty wise fellow ; thou didst make tolerable
vent of thy travel ; it might pass : yet the scarfs
and the bannerets about thee did manifoldly
Act II. Sc. iii. ALL'S WELL
dissuade me from believing thee a vessel of too
great a burthen. I have now found thee j when
I lose thee again, I care not : yet art thou good
for nothing but taking up; and that thou 'rt 2IO
scarce worth.
Par. Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity upon
thee, —
Laf Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, lest thou
hasten thy trial ; which if — Lord have mercy on
thee for a hen ! So, my good window of lattice,
fare thee well : thy casement I need not open, for
I look through thee. Give me thy hand.
Par. My lord, you give me most egregious indignity.
Laf. Ay, with all my heart ; and thou art worthy 220
of it.
Par. I have not, my lord, deserved it.
Laf. Yes, good faith, every dram of it ; and I will not
bate thee a scruple.
Par. Well, I shall be wiser.
Laf. Ev'n as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to pull
at a smack o' the contrary. If ever thou be'st
bound in thy scarf and beaten, thou shalt find
what it is to be proud of thy bondage. I have
a desire to hold my acquaintance with thee, or 230
rather my knowledge, that I may say in the
default, he is a man I know.
Par. My lord, you do me most insupportable vexation.
Laf I would it were hell-pains for thy sake, and my
poor doing eternal : for doing I am past ; as I
will by thee, in what motion age will give me
leave. [Exit.
Par. Well, thou hast a son shall take this disgrace
THAT ENDS WELL Act II. Sc. iii.
off me ; scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord! Well,
I must be patient ; there is no fettering of auth- 240
ority. I'll beat him, by my life, if I can meet
him with any convenience, an he were double
and double a lord. I '11 have no more pity of
his age than I would have of — I '11 beat him, an
if I could but meet him again.
Re-enter Lafeu.
Laf. Sirrah, your lord and master's married; there's
news for you : you have a new mistress.
Par. I most unfeignedly beseech your lordship to
make some reservation of your wrongs : he
is my good lord : whom I serve above is my 250
master.
Laf. Who? God?
Par. Ay, sir.
Laf. The devil it is that 's thy master. Why dost
thou garter up thy arms o' this fashion ? dost
make hose of thy sleeves ? do other servants so ?
Thou wert best set thy lower part where thy
nose stands. By mine honour, if I were but two
hours younger, I 'Id beat thee : methinks't, thou
art a general offence, and every man should beat 260
thee : I think thou wast created for men to breathe
themselves upon thee.
Par. This is hard and undeserved measure, my lord.
Laf. Go to, sir ; you were beaten in Italy for pick-
ing a kernel out of a pomegranate ; you are a
vagabond, and no true traveller : you are more
saucy with lords and honourable personages than
the commission of your birth and virtue gives you
Act II. Sc. iii. ALL'S WELL
heraldry. You are not worth another word, else
I 'Id call you knave. I leave you. [Exit. 2jo
Par. Good, very good ; it is so then : good, very
good ; let it be concealed awhile.
Re-enter Bertram.
Ber. Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever !
Par. What's the matter, sweet-heart?
Ber. Although before the solemn priest I have sworn,
I will not bed her.
Par. What, what, sweet-heart ?
Ber. O my Parolles, they have married me !
I '11 to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her.
Par. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits 280
The tread of a man's foot : to the wars !
Ber. There 's letters from my mother : what the
import is, I know not yet.
Par. Ay, that would be known. To the wars, my boy,
to the wars !
He wears his honour in a box unseen,
That hugs his kicky-wicky here at home,
Spending his manly marrow in her arms,
Which should sustain the bound and high curvet
Of Mars's fiery steed. To other regions :
France is a stable ; we that dwell in 't jades ; 290
Therefore, to the war !
Ber. It shall be so : I '11 send her to my house,
Acquaint my mother with my hate to her,
And wherefore I am fled -, write to the king
That which I durst not speak ; his present gift
Shall furnish me to those Italian fields,
Where noble fellows strike : war is no strife
THAT ENDS WELL Act II. Sc. iv.
To the dark house and the detested wife.
Par. Will this capriccio hold in thee, art sure ?
Ber. Go with me to my chamber, and advise me. 300
I '11 send her straight away : to-morrow
I '11 to the wars, she to her single sorrow.
Par. Why, these balls bound; there's noise in it. 'Tishard:
A young man married is a man that 's marr'd :
Therefore away, and leave her bravely ; go :
The king has done you wrong ; but, hush, 'tis so.
\_Exeunt.
Scene IV.
Paris. The Kings palace.
Enter Helena and Cloiun.
Hel. My mother greets me kindly : is she well ?
Clo. She is not well ; but yet she has her health :
she 's very merry ; but yet she is not well : but
thanks be given, she's very well and wants
nothing i' the world ; but yet she is not well.
Hel. If she be very well, what does she ail, that
she 's not very well ?
Clo. Truly, she 's very well indeed, but for two things.
Hel. What two things ?
Clo. One, that she's not in heaven, whither God send 10
her quickly ! the other, that she 's in earth, from
whence God send her quickly !
Enter Parolles.
Par. Bless you, my fortunate lady !
Hel. I hope, sir, I have your good will to have mine
own good fortunes.
ActII.Sc.iv. ALL'S WELL
Par. You had my prayers to lead them on ; and to
keep them on, have them still. O, my knave,
how does my old lady ?
Clo. So that you had her wrinkles, and I her money,
I would she did as you say. 20
Par. Why, I say nothing.
Clo. Marry, you are the wiser man ; for many a man's
tongue shakes out his master's undoing : to say
nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to
have nothing, is to be a great part of your title ;
which is within a very little of nothing.
Par. Away ! thou 'rt a knave.
Clo. You should have said, sir, before a knave thou 'rt
a knave ; that 's, before me thou 'rt a knave :
this had been truth, sir. 30
Par. Go to, thou art a witty fool ; I have found thee.
Clo. Did you find me in yourself, sir ? or were you
taught to find me? The search, sir, was pro-
fitable; and much fool may you find in you,
even to the world's pleasure and the increase of
laughter.
Par. A good knave, i' faith, and well fed.
Madam, my lord will go away to-night ;
A very serious business calls on him.
The great prerogative and rite of love, 40
Which, as your due, time claims, he does acknowledge ;
But puts it off to a compell'd restraint ;
Whose want, and whose delay, is strew'd with sweets
Which they distil now in the curbed time,
To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy,
And pleasure drown the brim.
Hel. What 's his will else ?
THAT ENDS WELL Act II. Sc. v.
Par. That you will take your instant leave o' the king,
And make this haste as your own good proceeding,
Strengthen'd with what apology you think
May make it probable need.
He/. What more commands he ? 50
Par. That, having this obtain'd, you presently
Attend his further pleasure.
He/. In every thing I wait upon his will.
Par. I shall report it so.
He/. I pray you. [Exit Parolles.~\ Come, sirrah.
[Exeunt.
Scene V.
Paris. The Kings palace.
Enter Lafeu and Bertram.
Laf. But I hope your lordship thinks not him a soldier.
Ber. Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof.
Laf. You have it from his own deliverance.
Ber. And by other warranted testimony.
Laf. Then my dial goes not true : I took this lark for
a bunting.
Ber. I do assure you, my lord, he is very great in
knowledge, and accordingly valiant.
Laf. I have then sinned against his experience and
transgressed against his valour ; and my state 10
that way is dangerous, since I cannot yet find
in my heart to repent. Here he comes : I
pray you, make us friends ; I will pursue the
amity.
Enter Paro/les.
Par. These things shall be done, sir. [To Bertram.
3 B2
Act II. Sc. v. ALL'S WELL
Laf. Pray you, sir, who 's his tailor ?
Par. Sir?
Laf O, I know him well, I, sir ; he, sir, 's a good
workman, a very good tailor.
Ber. Is she gone to the king ? [Aside to Parolles. 20
Par. She is.
Ber. Will she away to-night ?
Par. As you '11 have her.
Ber. I have writ my letters, casketed my treasure,
Given order for our horses ; and to-night,
When I should take possession of the bride,
End ere I do begin.
Laf. A good traveller is something at the latter end
of a dinner ; but one that lies three thirds, and
uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings 30
with, should be once heard, and thrice beaten.
God save you, captain.
Ber. Is there any unkindness between my lord and
you, monsieur ?
Par. I know not how I have deserved to run into
my lord's displeasure.
Laf. You have made shift to run into 't, boots and
spurs and all, like him that leaped into the cus-
tard ; and out of it you '11 run again, rather than
suffer question for your residence. 40
Ber. It may be you have mistaken him, my lord.
Laf And shall do so ever, though I took him at 's
prayers. Fare you well, my lord j and believe
this of me, there can be no kernel in this light
nut ; the soul of this man is his clothes. Trust
him not in matter of heavy consequence ; I have
kept of them tame, and know their natures.
THAT ENDS WELL Act ". Sc. v.
Farewell, monsieur : I have spoken better of you
than you have or will to deserve at my hand ;
but we must do good against evil. [Exit. 50
Par. An idle lord, I swear.
Ber. I think so.
Par. Why, do you not know him ?
Ber. Yes, I do know him well, and common speech
Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog.
Enter Helena.
He/. I have, sir, as I was commanded from you,
Spoke with the king, and have procured his leave
For present parting ; only he desires
Some private speech with you.
Ber. I shall obey his will.
You must not marvel, Helen, at my course, 60
Which holds not colour with the time, nor does
The ministration and required office
On my particular. Prepared I was not
For such a business ; therefore am I found
So much unsettled : this drives me to entreat you,
That presently you take your way for home,
And rather muse than ask why I entreat you ;
For my respects are better than they seem,
And my appointments have in them a need
Greater than shows itself at the first view 70
To you that know them not. This to my mother
[Giving a letter.
'Twill be two days ere I shall see you ; so,
I leave you to your wisdom.
Hel. Sir, I can nothing say,
But that I am your most obedient servant.
Act II. Sc v. ALL'S WELL
Ber. Come, come, no more of that.
He/. And ever shall
With true observance seek to eke out that
Wherein toward me my homely stars have fail'd
To equal my great fortune.
Ber. Let that go :
My haste is very great : farewell ; hie home.
He/. Pray, sir, your pardon.
Ber. Well, what would you say ? 80
He/. I am not worthy of the wealth I owe ;
Nor dare I say 'tis mine, and yet it is ;
But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal
What law does vouch mine own.
Ber. What would you have ?
He/. Something ; and scarce so much : nothing indeed.
I would not tell you what I would, my lord : faith,
yes 5
Strangers and foes do sunder, and not kiss.
Ber. I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse.
He/. I shall not break your bidding, good my lord. 90
Ber. Where are my other men, monsieur ? Farewell !
[Exit Helena.
Go thou toward home ; where I will never come,
Whilst I can shake my sword, or hear the drum.
Away, and for our flight.
Par. Bravely, coragio ! [Exeunt.
THAT ENDS WELL Act III. Sc. i.
ACT THIRD.
Scene I.
Florence. The Duke's palace.
Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, attended ; the two
Frenchmen tuith a troop of soldiers.
Duke. So that from point to point now have you heard
The fundamental reasons of this war,
Whose great decision hath much blood let forth
And more thirsts after.
First Lord. Holy seems the quarrel
Upon your Grace's part ; black and fearful
On the opposer.
Duke. Therefore we marvel much our cousin France
Would in so just a business shut his bosom
Against our borrowing prayers.
Sec. Lord. Good my lord,
The reasons of our state I cannot yield, IO
But like a common and an outward man,
That the great figure of a council frames
By self-unable motion : therefore dare not
Say what I think of it, since I have found
Myself in my incertain grounds to fail
As often as I guess'd.
Duke. Be it his pleasure.
First Lord. But I am sure the younger of our nature,
That surfeit on their ease, will day by day
Come here for physic.
Duke. Welcome shall they be ;
And all the honours that can fly from us 20 '
Shall on them settle. You know your places well ;
Act III. Sc. ii. ALL'S WELL
When better fall, for your avails they fell :
To-morrow to the field. [Flourish. Exeunt.
Scene II.
Rousillon. The Count's palace.
Enter Countess and Clown.
Count. It hath happened all as I would have had it,
save that he comes not along with her.
Clo. By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very
melancholy man.
Count. By what observance, I pray you ?
Clo. Why, he will look upon his boot and sing ;
mend the ruff and sing ; ask questions and sing ;
pick his teeth and sing. I know a man that
had this trick of melancholy sold a goodly
manor for a song. Io
Count. Let me see what he writes, and when he means
to come. [Opening a letter.
Clo. I have no mind to Isbel since I was at court : our
old ling and our Isbels o' the country are nothing
like your old ling and your Isbels o' the court :
the brains of my Cupid's knocked out, and I
begin to love, as an old man loves money, with
no stomach.
Count. What have we here ?
Clo. E'en that you have there. [Exit. 20
Count, [reads] I have sent you a daughter-in-law : she
hath recovered the king, and undone me. I have
wedded her, not bedded her ; and sworn to make
the ' not ' eternal. You shall hear I am run
away : know it before the report come. If there
THAT ENDS WELL Act III. Sc. ii.
be breadth enough in the world, I will hold a
long distance. My duty to you.
Your unfortunate son,
Bertram.
This is not well, rash and unbridled boy, 30
To fly the favours of so good a king ;
To pluck his indignation on thy head
By the misprising of a maid too virtuous
For the contempt of empire.
Re-enter Clown.
Clo. O madam, yonder is heavy news within between
two soldiers and my young lady !
Count. What is the matter ?
Clo. Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some
comfort j your son will not be killed so soon as I
thought he would. 40
Count. Why should he be killed ?
Clo. So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear he
does : the danger is in standing to 't ; that 's the
loss of men, though it be the getting of children.
Here they come will tell you more : for my part,
I only hear your son was run away.
Enter Helena and two Gentlemen.
[Exit.
First Gent. Save you, good madam.
Hel. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone.
Sec. Gent. Do not say so.
Count. Think upon patience. Pray you, gentlemen, 50
I have felt so many quirks of joy and grief,
That the first face of neither, on the start,
Can woman me unto 't : where is my son, I pray you ?
Act III. Sc. ii. ALL'S WELL
Sec. Gent. Madam, he 's gone to serve the Duke of Florence :
We met him thitherward ; from thence we came,
And, after some dispatch in hand at court,
Thither we bend again.
He/. Look on his letter, madam ; here 's my passport.
[reads] When thou canst get the ring upon my
finger which never shall come off, and show me 60
a child begotten of thy body that I am father to,
then call me husband : but in such a ' then ' I
write a ' never.'
This is a dreadful sentence.
Count. Brought you this letter, gentlemen ?
First Gent. Ay, madam ;
And for the contents' sake are sorry for our pains.
Count. I prithee, lady, have a better cheer ;
If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine,
Thou robb'st me of a moiety : he was my son ;
But I do wash his name out of my blood, 70
And thou art all my child. Towards Florence is he ?
Sec. Gent. Ay, madam.
Count. And to be a soldier ?
Sec. Gent. Such is his noble purpose ; and, believe 't,
The Duke will lay upon him all the honour
That good convenience claims.
Count. Return you thither ?
First Gent. Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed.
He/, [reads] Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.
'Tis bitter.
Count. Find you that there ?
He/. Ay, madam.
First Gent. 'Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply,
which his heart was not consenting to. 80
THAT ENDS WELL Act III. Sc, ii.
Count. Nothing in France, until he have no wife !
There 's nothing here that is too good for him
But only she ; and she deserves a lord
That twenty such rude boys might tend upon
And call her hourly mistress. Who was with him ?
First Gent. A servant only, and a gentleman
Which I have sometime known.
Count. Parolles, was it not ?
First Gent. Ay, my good lady, he.
Count. A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness.
My son corrupts a well-derived nature 90
With his inducement.
First Gent. Indeed, good lady,
The fellow has a deal of that too much,
Which holds him much to have.
Count. Y' are welcome, gentlemen.
I will entreat you, when you see my son,
To tell him that his sword can never win
The honour that he loses : more I '11 entreat you
Written to bear along.
Sec. Gent. We serve you, madam,
In that and all your worthiest affairs.
Count. Not so, but as we change our courtesies. loo
Will you draw near ?
[Fxeunt Countess and Gentlemen.
Hel. ' Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.'
Nothing in France, until he has no wife !
Thou shalt have none, Rousillon, none in France ;
Then hast thou all again. Poor lord ! is 't I
That chase thee from thy country and expose
Those tender limbs of thine to the event
Of the none-sparing war ? and is it I
Act III. Sc. iii. ALL'S WELL
That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou
Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark no
Of smoky muskets ? O you leaden messengers,
That ride upon the violent speed of fire,
Fly with false aim ; move the still-peering air,
That sings with piercing ; do not touch my lord.
Whoever shoots at him, I set him there ;
Whoever charges on his forward breast,
I am the caitiff that do hold him to 't ;
And, though I kill him not, I am the cause
His death was so effected : better 'twere
I met the ravin lion when he roar'd 120
With sharp constraint of hunger ; better 'twere
That all the miseries which nature owes
Were mine at once. No, come thou home, Rousillon,
Whence honour but of danger wins a scar,
As oft it loses all : I will be gone ;
My being here it is that holds thee hence :
Shall I stay here to do 't ? no, no, although
The air of paradise did fan the house,
And angels officed all : I will be gone,
That pitiful rumour may report my flight, 130
To consolate thine ear. Come, night ; end, day !
For with the dark, poor thief, I '11 steal away. [Exit.
Scene III.
Florence. Before the Duke's palace.
Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Bertram, Parolles,
Soldiers, Drum, and Trumpets.
Duke. The general of our horse thou art ; and we,
Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence
THAT ENDS WELL Act III. Sc. iv.
Upon thy promising fortune.
Ber. Sir, it is
A charge too heavy for my strength ; but yet
We '11 strive to bear it for your worthy sake
To the extreme edge of hazard.
Duke. Then go thou forth •,
And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm,
As thy auspicious mistress !
Ber. This very day,
Great Mars, I put myself into thy file :
Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall prove io
A lover of thy drum, hater of love. [Exeunt.
Scene IV.
Rousillon. The Count's palace.
Enter Countess and Steward.
Count. Alas ! and would you take the letter of her ?
Might you not know she would do as she has done,
By sending me a letter ? Read it again.
Stew, [reads] I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone :
Ambitious love hath so in me offended,
That barefoot plod I the cold ground upon,
With sainted vow my faults to have amended.
Write, write, that from the bloody course of war
My dearest master, your dear son, may hie :
Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from far IO
His name with zealous fervour sanctify :
His taken labours bid him me forgive ;
I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth
From courtly friends with camping foes to live,
Where death and danger dogs the heels of worth :
Act III. Sc. iv. ALL'S WELL
He is too good and fair for death and me ;
Whom I myself embrace to set him free.
Count. Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words !
Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so much,
As letting her pass so : had I spoke with her, 20
I could have well diverted her intents,
Which thus she hath prevented.
Stew. Pardon me, madam :
If I had given you this at over-night,
She might have been o'erta'en; and yet she writes,
Pursuit would be but vain.
Count. What angel shall
Bless this unworthy husband ? he cannot thrive,
Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hear
And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath
Of greatest justice. Write, write, Rinaldo,
To this unworthy husband of his wife ; go
Let every word weigh heavy of her worth
That he does weigh too light : my greatest grief,
Though little he do feel it, set down sharply.
Dispatch the most convenient messenger :
When haply he shall hear that she is gone,
He will return ; and hope I may that she,
Hearing so much, will speed her foot again,
Led hither by pure love : which of them both
Is dearest to me, I have no skill in sense
To make distinction : provide this messenger : 40
My heart is heavy and mine age is weak ;
Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak.
[Exeunt.
THAT ENDS WELL Act III. Sc. v.
Scene V.
Florence. Without the tualls. A tucket afar off.
Enter an old widow of Florence, Diana, Violenta, and
Mariana, with other Citizens.
Wid. Nay, come ; for if they do approach the city,
we shall lose all the sight.
Dia. They say the French count has done most
honourable service.
Wid. It is reported that he has taken their greatest
commander ; and that with his own hand he slew
the Duke's brother. [Tucket.] We have lost our
labour ; they are gone a contrary way : hark !
you may know by their trumpets.
Mar. Come, let's return again, and suffice ourselves io
with the report of it. Well, Diana, take heed of
this French earl : the honour of a maid is her
name ; and no legacy is so rich as honesty.
Wid. I have told my neighbour how you have been
solicited by a gentleman his companion.
Mar. I know that knave ; hang him ! one Parolles :
a filthy officer he is in those suggestions for
the young earl. Beware of them, Diana ; their
promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and all
these engines of lust, are not the things they go 20
under : many a maid hath been seduced by
them ; and the misery is, example, that so
terrible shows in the wreck of maidenhood,
cannot for all that dissuade succession, but that
they are limed with the twigs that threaten them.
I hope I need not to advise you further 5 but I
hope your own grace will keep you where you
Act III. Sc. v. ALL'S WELL
are, though there were no further danger known
but the modesty which is so lost.
Din. You shall not need to fear me. 30
Wid. I hope so.
Enter Helena, disguised like a pilgrim.
Look, here comes a pilgrim : I know she will
lie at my house ; thither they send one another :
I'll question her. God save you, pilgrim!
whither are you bound ?
Hel. To Saint Jaqnes le Grand.
Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you ?
Wid. At the Saint Francis here beside the port.
Hel. Is this the way ?
Wid. Ay, marry, is 't. [A march afar.~] Hark you !
they come this way. 40
If you will tarry, holy pilgrim,
But till the troops come by,
I will conduct you where you shall be lodged ;
The rather, for I think I know your hostess
As ample as myself.
Hel. Is it yourself?
Wid. If you shall please so, pilgrim.
Hel. I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure.
Wid. You came, I think, from France ?
Hel. I did so.
Wid. Here you shall see a countryman of yours
That has done worthy service.
Hel. His name, I pray you ?
Dia. The Count Rousillon : know you such a one ? 51
Hel. But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him :
His face I know not.
THAT ENDS WELL Act III. Sc. v.
Dia. Whatsome'er he is,
He 's bravely taken here. He stole from France,
As 'tis reported, for the king had married him
Against his liking : think you it is so ?
He/. Ay, surely, mere the truth : I know his lady.
Dia. There is a gentleman that serves the count
Reports but coarsely of her.
He/. What 's his name ?
Dia. Monsieur Parolles.
He/. O, I believe with him, 60
In argument of praise, or to the worth
Of the great count himself, she is too mean
To have her name repeated : all her deserving
Is a reserved honesty, and that
I have not heard examined.
Dia. Alas, poor lady !
'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife
Of a detesting lord.
Wid. I write good creature, wheresoe'er she is,
Her heart weighs sadly : this young maid might do
her
A shrewd turn, if she pleased.
He/. How do you mean ? 70
May be the amorous count solicits her
In the unlawful purpose.
Wid. He does indeed ;
And brokes with all that can in such a suit
Corrupt the tender honour of a maid :
But she is arm'd for him, and keeps her guard
In honestest defence.
Mar. The gods forbid else !
Wid. So, now they come :
Act III. Sc. v ALL'S WELL
Drum and Colours.
Enter Bertram, Parolles, and the whole army.
That is Antonio, the Duke's eldest son ;
That, Escalus.
Hel. Which is the Frenchman?
Dia. He ;
That with the plume : 'tis a most gallant fellow. 80
I would he loved his wife : if he were honester
He were much goodlier : is 't not a handsome
gentleman ?
Hel. I like him well.
Dia. 'Tis pity he is not honest : yond 's that same knave
That leads him to these places : were I his lady,
I would poison that vile rascal.
Hel. Which is he ?
Dia. That jack-an-apes with scarfs : why is he
melancholy ?
Hel. Perchance he 's hurt i' the battle.
Par. Lose our drum ! well. po
Mar. He 's shrewdly vexed at something : look, he
has spied us.
Wid. Marry, hang you !
Mar. And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier !
[Exeunt Bertram, Parolles, and army.
Wid. The troop is past. Come, pilgrim, I will bring
you
Where you shall host : of enjoin'd penitents
There 's four or five, to great Saint Jaques bound,
Already at my house.
Hel. I humbly thank you :
Please it this matron and this gentle maid
THAT ENDS WELL Act III. Sc. vi.
To eat with us to-night, the charge and thanking ioo
Shall be for me ; and, to requite you further,
I will bestow some precepts of this virgin
Worthy the note.
Both. We '11 take your offer kindly.
[Exeunt.
Scene VI.
Camp before Florence.
Enter Bertram and the two French Lords.
Sec. Lord. Nay, good my lord, put him to 't ; let him
have his way.
First Lord. If your lordship find him not a hilding,
hold me no more in your respect.
Sec. Lord. On my life, my lord, a bubble.
Ber. Do you think I am so far deceived in him ?
Sec. Lord. Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct
knowledge, without any malice, but to speak of
him as my kinsman, he 's a most notable coward,
an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise- 10
breaker, the owner of no one good quality worthy
your lordship's entertainment.
First Lord. It were fit you knew him ; lest, reposing
too far in his virtue, which he hath not, he
might at some great and trusty business in a
main danger fail you.
Ber. I would I knew in what particular action to try
him.
First Lord. None better than to let him fetch off his
drum, which you hear him so confidently under- 20
take to do.
3 C2
Act III. Sc. vi. ALL'S WELL
Sec. Lord. I, with a troop of Florentines, will suddenly
surprise him ; such I will have, whom I am sure
he knows not from the enemy : we will bind and
hoodwink him so, that he shall suppose no other
but that he is carried into the leaguer of the
adversaries, when we bring him to our own
tents. Be but your lordship present at his
examination : if he do not, for the promise of
his life and in the highest compulsion of base 30
fear, offer to betray you and deliver all the in-
telligence in his power against you, and that
with the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath,
never trust my judgement in any thing.
First Lord. O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch
his drum; he says he has a stratagem for't: when
your lordship sees the bottom of his success in't,
and to what metal this counterfeit lump of ore
will be melted, if you give him not John Drum's
entertainment, your inclining cannot be removed. 40
Here he comes.
Enter Parolles.
Sec. Lord. [Aside to Ber.] O, for the love of laughter,
hinder not the honour of his design : let him
fetch off his drum in any hand.
Ber. How now, monsieur ! this drum sticks sorely in
your disposition.
First Lord. A pox on 't, let it go ; 'tis but a drum.
Far. ' But a drum ' ! is 't ' but a drum ' ? A drum
so lost ! There was excellent command, — to
charge in with our horse upon our own wings, 50
and to rend our own soldiers !
First Lord. That was not to be blamed in the com-
THAT ENDS WELL Act III. Sc. vi.
mand of the service : it was a disaster of war
that Caesar himself could not have prevented, if
he had been there to command.
Ber. Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success :
some dishonour we had in the loss of that drum ;
but it is not to be recovered.
Par. It might have been recovered.
Ber. It might ; but it is not now. 60
Par. It is to be recovered : but that the merit of
service is seldom attributed to the true and exact
performer, I would have that drum or another,
or ' hie jacet.'
Ber. Why, if you have a stomach, to't, monsieur: if
you think your mystery in stratagem can bring
this instrument of honour again into his native
quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprise and
go on ; I will grace the attempt for a worthy
exploit : if you speed well in it, the Duke shall 70
both speak of it, and extend to you what further
becomes his greatness, even to the utmost syllable
of your worthiness.
Par. By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it.
Ber. But you must not now slumber in it.
Par. I '11 about it this evening : and I will presently
pen down my dilemmas, encourage myself in
my certainty, put myself into my mortal pre-
paration ; and by midnight look to hear further
from me. 80
Ber. May I be bold to acquaint his Grace you are
gone about it ?
Par. I know not what the success will be, my lord ;
but the attempt I vow.
Act III. Sc. vi. ALL'S WELL
Ber. I know thou 'rt valiant ; and, to the possibility of
thy soldiership, will subscribe for thee. Farewell.
Par. I love not many words. [Exit.
Sec. Lord. No more than a fish loves water. Is not
this a strange fellow, my lord, that so confidently
seems to undertake this business, which he knows 90
is not to be done; damns himself to do, and dares
better be damned than to do't?
First Lord. You do not know him, my lord, as we
do : certain it is, that he will steal himself into
a man's favour and for a week escape a great
deal of discoveries ; but when you find him out,
you have him ever after.
Ber. Why, do you think he will make no deed at all
of this that so seriously he does address himself
unto? ICO
Sec. Lord. None in the world ; but return with an in-
vention, and clap upon you two or three probable
lies : but we have almost embossed him ; you
shall see his fall to-night ; for indeed he is not
for your lordship's respect.
First Lord. We '11 make you some sport with the fox
ere we case him. He was first smoked by the
old lord Lafeu : when his disguise and he is
parted, tell me what a sprat you shall find him ;
which you shall see this very night. 1 10
Sec. Lord. I must go look my twigs ; he shall be caught.
Ber. Your brother he shall go along with me.
Sec. Lord. As 't please your lordship : I '11 leave you.
[Exit.
Ber. Now will I lead you to the house, and show you
The lass I spoke of.
THAT ENDS WELL Act III. Sc. vii.
First Lord. But you say she 's honest.
Ber. That 's all the fault : I spoke with her but once
And found her wondrous cold ; but I sent to her,
By this same coxcomb that we have i' the wind,
Tokens and letters which she did re-send j
And this is all I have done. She 's a fair creature: 120
Will you go see her ?
First Lord. With all my heart, my lord.
[Exeunt.
Scene VII.
Florence. The Widow s house.
Enter Helena and Widow.
Hel. If you misdoubt me that I am not she,
I know not how I shall assure you further,
But I shall lose the grounds I work upon.
Wid. Though my estate be fallen, I was well born,
Nothing acquainted with these businesses ;
And would not put my reputation now
In any staining act.
Hel. Nor would I wish you.
First, give me trust, the count he is my husband,
And what to your sworn counsel I have spoken
Is so from word to word ; and then you cannot, 10
By the good aid that I of you shall borrow,
Err in bestowing it.
Wid. I should believe you \
For you have show'd me that which well approves
You 're great in fortune.
Hel. Take this purse of gold,
And let me buy your friendly help thus far,
Act III. Sc. vii. ALL'S WELL
Which I will over-pay and pay again
When I have found it. The count he wooes your
daughter,
Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty,
Resolved to carry her : let her in fine consent,
As we '11 direct her how 'tis best to bear it. 20
Now his important blood will nought deny
That she '11 demand : a ring the county wears,
That downward hath succeeded in his house
From son to son, some four or five descents
Since the first father wore it : this ring he holds
In most rich choice j yet in his idle fire,
To buy his will, it would not seem too dear,
Howe'er repented after.
Wid. Now I see
The bottom of your purpose.
He/. You see it lawful, then : it is no more, 30
But that your daughter, ere she seems as won,
Desires this ring ; appoints him an encounter ;
In fine, delivers me to fill the time,
Herself most chastely absent : after this,
To marry her, I'll add three thousand crowns
To what is past already.
Wid. 1 have yielded :
Instruct my daughter how she shall persever,
That time and place with this deceit so lawful
May prove coherent. Every night he comes
With musics of all sorts and songs composed 40
To her unworthiness : it nothing steads us
To chide him from our eaves ; for he persists
As if his life lay on 't.
He/. Why then to-night
THAT ENDS WELL Act IV. Sc. i.
Let us assay our plot ; which, if it speed,
Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed,
And lawful meaning in a lawful act,
Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact :
But let 's about it. [Exeunt.
ACT FOURTH.
Scene I.
Without the Florentine camp.
Enter Second French Lord, ivith five or six other
Soldiers in ambush.
Sec. Lord. He can come no other way but by this
hedge-corner. When you sally upon him,
speak what terrible language you will : though
you understand it not yourselves, no matter ; for
we must not seem to understand him, unless
some one among us whom we must produce for
an interpreter.
First Sold. Good captain, let me be the interpreter.
Sec. Lord. Art not acquainted with him ? knows he
not thy voice ? Io
First Sold. No, sir, I warrant you.
Sec. Lord. But what linsey-woolsey hast thou to speak
to us again ?
First Sold. E'en such as you speak to me.
Sec. Lord. He must think us some band of strangers
i' the adversary's entertainment. Now he hath
a smack of all neighbouring languages ; there-
fore we must every one be a man of his own
fancy, not to know what we speak one to
Act IV. Sc. i. ALL'S WELL
another ; so we seem to know, is to know 20
straight our purpose ; choughs' language, gabble
enough, and good enough. As for you, inter-
preter, you must seem very politic. But couch,
ho ! here he comes, to beguile two hours in a
sleep, and then to return and swear the lies he
forges.
Enter Parolles.
Par. Ten o'clock : within these three hours 'twill be
time enough to go home. What shall I say I
have done ? It must be a very plausive invention
that carries it : they begin to smoke me ; and 30
disgraces have of late knocked too often at my
door. I find my tongue is too foolhardy ; but
my heart hath the fear of Mars before it and
of his creatures, not daring the reports of my
tongue.
Sec. Lord. This is the first truth that e'er thine own
tongue was guilty of.
Par. What the devil should move me to undertake
the recovery of this drum, being not ignorant of
the impossibility, and knowing I had no such 40
purpose? I must give myself some hurts, and
say I got them in exploit : yet slight ones will
not carry it j they will say, ' Came you off with
so little ? ' and great ones I dare not give.
Wherefore, what 's the instance ? Tongue, I
must put you into a butter-woman's mouth, and
buy myself another of Bajazet's mule, if you
prattle me into these perils.
Sec. Lord. Is it possible he should know what he is,
and be that he is ? 5°
THAT ENDS WELL Act IV' Sc' i#
Par. I would the cutting of my garments would serve
the turn, or the breaking of my Spanish sword.
Sec. Lord. We cannot afford you so.
Par. Or the baring of my beard ; and to say it was
in stratagem.
Sec. Lord. 'Twould not do.
Par. Or to drown my clothes, and say I was stripped.
Sec. Lord. Hardly serve.
Par. Though I swore I leaped from the window of
the citadel — 60
Sec. Lord. How deep ?
Par. Thirty fathom.
Sec. Lord. Three great oaths would scarce make that
be believed.
Par. I would I had any drum of the enemy's ; I
would swear I recovered it.
Sec. Lord. You shall hear one anon.
Par. A drum now of the enemy's, — [Alarum within.
Sec. Lord. Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo.
All. Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo. 70
Par. O, ransom, ransom ! do not hide mine eyes.
[They seize and blindfold him.
First Sold. Boskos thromuldo boskos.
Par. I know you are the Muskos' regiment :
And I shall lose my life for want of language :
If there be here German, or Dane, low Dutch,
Italian, or French, let him speak to me ; I '11
Discover that which shall undo the Florentine.
First Sold. Boskos vauvado : I understand thee, and
can speak thy tongue. Kerelybonto, sir, betake
thee to thy faith, for seventeen poniards are at 80
thy bosom.
Act IV. Sc. i. ALL'S WELL
Par. O!
First Sold. O, pray, pray, pray ! Manka revania
dulche.
Sec. Lord. Oscorbidulchos volivorco.
First Sold. The general is content to spare thee yet ;
And, hoodwink' d as thou art, will lead thee on
To gather from thee : haply thou mayst inform
Something to save thy life.
Par. O, let me live !
And all the secrets of our camp I '11 show, 90
Their force, their purposes ; nay, I '11 speak that
Which you will wonder at.
First Sold. But wilt thou faithfully ?
Par. If I do not, damn me.
First '.Sold. Acordo linta.
Come on ; thou art granted space.
\Exit, tuith Parolles guarded. A short
alarum within.
Sec. Lord. Go, tell the count Rousillon and my brother,
We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him
muffled
Till we do hear from them.
Sec. Sold. Captain, I will.
Sec. Lord. A' will betray us all unto ourselves :
Inform on that. loo
Sec. Sold. So I will, sir.
Sec. Lord. Till then I '11 keep him dark and safely lock'd.
[Exeunt.
THAT ENDS WELL Act IV* Sc' "•
Scene II.
Florence. The Widoivs house.
Enter Bertram and Diana.
Ber. They told me that your name was Fontibell.
Dia. No, my good lord, Diana.
Ber. Titled goddess ;
And worth it, with addition ! But, fair soul,
In your fine frame hath love no quality ?
If the quick fire of youth light not your mind,
You are no maiden, but a monument :
When you are dead, you should be such a one
As you are now, for you are cold and stern ;
And now you should be as your mother was
When your sweet self was got. IO
Dia. She then was honest.
Ber. So should you be.
Dia. No :
My mother did but duty ; such, my lord,
As you owe to your wife.
Ber. No more o' that j
I prithee, do not strive against my vows :
I was compell'd to her ; but I love thee
By love's own sweet constraint, and will for ever
Do thee all rights of service.
Dia. Ay, so you serve us
Till we serve you ; but when you have our roses,
You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves,
And mock us with our bareness.
Ber. How have I sworn ! 20
Dia. 'Tis not the many oaths that makes the truth,
But the plain single vow that is vow'd true.
Act IV. Sc. ii. ALL'S WELL
What is not holy, that we swear not by,
But take the High'st to witness: then, pray you, tell
me,
If I should swear by Jove's great attributes,
I loved you dearly, would you believe my oaths,
When I did love you ill? This has no holding,
To swear by him whom I protest to love,
That I will work against him : therefore your oaths
Are words and poor conditions, but unseal'd, 30
At least in my opinion.
Ber. Change it, change it ;
Be not so holy-cruel : love is holy ;
And my integrity ne'er knew the crafts
That you do charge men with. Stand no more off,
But give thyself unto my sick desires,
Who then recover : say thou art mine, and ever
My love as it begins shall so persever.
Dia. I see that men make rope's in such a scarre
That we '11 forsake ourselves. Give me that ring.
Ber. I '11 lend it thee, my dear ; but have no power 40
To give it from me.
Dia. Will you not, my lord ?
Ber. It is an honour 'longing to our house,
Bequeathed down from many ancestors ;
Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world
In me to lose.
Dia. Mine honour 's such a ring :
My chastity 's the jewel of our house,
Bequeathed down from many ancestors ;
Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world
In me to lose : thus your own proper wisdom
Brings in the champion Honour on my part, 50
THAT ENDS WELL Act IV. Sc. ii.
Against your vain assault.
Ber. Here, take my ring :
My house, mine honour, yea, my life, be thine,
And I '11 be bid by thee.
Dia. When midnight comes, knock at my chamber-window :
I '11 order take my mother shall not hear.
Now will I charge you in the band of truth,
When you have conquer'd my yet maiden bed,
Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me :
My reasons are most strong ; and you shall know
them
When back again this ring shall be deliver'd : 60
And on your finger in the night I '11 put
Another ring, that what in time proceeds
May token to the future our past deeds.
Adieu, till then ; then, fail not. You have won
A wife of me, though there my hope be done.
Ber. A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee. [Exit.
Dia. For which live long to thank both heaven and me !
You may so in the end.
My mother told me just how he would woo,
As if she sat in 's heart ; she says all men 70
Have the like oaths : he had sworn to marry me
When his wife 's dead ; therefore I '11 lie with him
When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braid,
Marry that will, I live and die a maid :
Only in this disguise I think 't no sin
To cozen him that would unjustly win. [Exit.
Act IV. Sc. iii. ALL'S WELL
Scene III.
The Florentine Camp.
Enter the two French Lords and some two or three Soldiers.
First Lord. You have not given him his mother's
letter ?
Sec. Lord. I have delivered it an hour since : there is
something in 't that stings his nature ; for on the
reading it he changed almost into another man.
First Lord. He has much worthy blame laid upon him
for shaking off so good a wife and so sweet a lady.
Sec. Lord. Especially he hath incurred the everlast-
ing displeasure of the king, who had even tuned
his bounty to sing happiness to him. I will tell 10
you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly
with you.
First Lord. When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and
I am the grave of it.
Sec. Lord. He hath perverted a young gentlewoman
here in Florence, of a most chaste renown ;
and this night he fleshes his will in the spoil of
her honour : he hath given her his monumental
ring, and thinks himself made in the unchaste
composition. 20
First Lord. Now, God delay our rebellion ! as we
are ourselves, what things are we !
Sec. Lord. Merely our own traitors. And as in the
common course of all treasons, we still see them
reveal themselves, till they attain to their abhorred
ends, so he that in this action contrives against
his own nobility, in his proper stream o'erflows
himself.
THAT ENDS WELL Act IV. Sc. hi.
First Lord. Is it not meant damnable in us, to be
trumpeters of our unlawful intents ? We shall 30
not then have his company to-night ?
Sec. Lord. Not till after midnight ; for he is dieted to
his hour.
First Lord. That approaches apace : I would gladly
have him see his company anatomized, that he
might take a measure of his own judgements,
wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit.
Sec. Lord. We will not meddle with him till he come;
for his presence must be the whip of the other.
First Lord. In the mean time, what hear vou of these 40
wars ?
Sec. Lord. I hear there is an overture of peace.
First Lord. Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded.
Sec. Lord. What will Count Rousillon do then ? will
he travel higher, or return again into France ?
First Lord. I perceive, by this demand, you are not
altogether of his council.
Sec. Lord. Let it be forbid, sir ; so should I be a great
deal of his act.
First Lord. Sir, his wife some two months since fled 50
from his house : her pretence is a pilgrimage to
Saint Jaques le Grand ; which holy undertaking
with most austere sanctimony she accomplished ;
and, there residing, the tenderness of her nature
became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a
groan of her last breath, and now she sings in
heaven.
Sec. Lord. How is this justified ?
First Lord. The stronger part of it by her own letters,
which makes her story true, even to the point of 60
Act IV. Sc. iii. ALL'S WELL
her death : her death itself, which could not be
her office to say is come, was faithfully confirmed
by the rector of the place.
Sec. Lord. Hath the count all this intelligence ?
First Lord. Ay, and the particular confirmations, point
from point, to the full arming of the verity.
Sec. Lord. I am heartily sorry that he'll be glad of
this.
First Lord. How mightily sometimes we make us
comforts of our losses ! 70
Sec. Lord. And how mightily some other times we
drown our gain in tears ! The great dignity
that his valour hath here acquired for him shall
at home be encountered with a shame as ample.
First Lord. The web of our life is of a mingled yarn,
good and ill together : our virtues would be
proud, if our faults whipped them not j and our
crimes would despair, if they were not cherished
by our virtues.
Enter a Messenger.
How now ! where 's your master ! 80
Serv. He met the Duke in the street, sir, of whom he
hath taken a solemn leave : his lordship will next
morning for France. The Duke hath offered him
letters of commendations to the king.
Sec. Lord. They shall be no more than needful there,
if they were more than they can commend.
First Lord. They cannot be too sweet for the king's
tartness. Here 's his lordship now.
Enter Bertram.
How now, my lord ! is 't not after midnight ?
THAT ENDS WELL Act IV. Sc. iii.
Ber. I have to-night dispatched sixteen businesses, a 90
month's length a-piece, by an abstract of success :
I have congied with the Duke, done my adieu
with his nearest ; buried a wife, mourned for
her ; writ to my lady mother I am returning ;
entertained my convoy ; and between these main
parcels of dispatch effected many nicer needs :
the last was the greatest, but that I have not
ended yet.
Sec. Lord. If the business be of any difficulty, and this
morning your departure hence, it requires haste 100
of your lordship.
Ber. I mean, the business is not ended, as fearing to
hear of it hereafter. But shall we have this dia-
logue between the fool and the soldier ? Come,
bring forth this counterfeit module, has deceived
me, like a double-meaning prophesier.
Sec. Lord. Bring him forth : has sat i' the stocks all
night, poor gallant knave,
Ber. No matter ; his heels have deserved it, in usurp-
ing his spurs so long. How does he carry him- no
self?
Sec. Lord. I have told your lordship already, the stocks
carry him. But to answer you as you would be
understood ; he weeps like a wench that had shed
her milk : he hath confessed himself to Morgan,
whom he supposes to be a friar, from the time of
his remembrance to this very instant disaster of
his setting i' the stocks : and what think you he
hath confessed ?
Ber. Nothing of me, has a' ? 120
Sec. Lord. His confession is taken, and it shall be
3 D2
Act IV. Sc. iii. ALL'S WELL
read to his face : if your lordship be in 't, as I
believe you are, you must have the patience to
hear it.
Enter Parolles guarded, and First Soldier.
Ber. A plague upon him ! muffled ! he can say no-
thing of me : hush, hush !
First Lord. Hoodman comes ! Portotartarossa.
First Sold. He calls for the tortures : what will you
say without 'em ?
Par. I will confess what I know without constraint: 130
if ye pinch me like a pasty, I can say no more.
First Sold. Bosko chimurcho.
First Lord. Boblibindo chicurmurco.
First Sold. You are a merciful general. Our general
bids you answer to what I shall ask you out of a
note.
Par. And truly, as I hope to live.
First Sold, [reads'] First demand of him how many
horse the Duke is strong. What say you to
that? 140
Par. Five or six thousand ; but very weak and un-
serviceable : the troops are all scattered, and the
commanders very poor rogues, upon my reputa-
tion and credit, and as I hope to live.
First Sold. Shall I set down your answer so ?
Par. Do: I '11 take the sacrament on 't, how and which
way you will.
Ber. All 's one to him. What a past-saving slave is
this !
First Lord. You're deceived, my lord: this is 1 50
Monsieur Parolles, the gallant militarist, — that
THAT ENDS WELL Act IV- Sc- »»•
was his own phrase, — that had the whole theoric
of war in the knot of his scarf, and the practice
in the chape of his dagger.
Sec. Lord. I will never trust a man again for keeping
his sword clean, nor believe he can have every
thing in him by wearing his apparel neatly.
First Sold. Well, that's set down.
Par. Five or six thousand horse, I said, — I will say
true, — or thereabouts, set down, for I'll speak 160
truth.
First Lord. He 's very near the truth in this.
Ber. But I con him no thanks for 't, in the nature he
delivers it.
Par. Poor rogues, I pray you, say.
First Sold. Well, that 's set down.
Par. I humbly thank you, sir : a truth 's a truth, the
rogues are marvellous poor.
First Sold, [reads] Demand of him, of what strength
they are a-foot. What say you to that ? 1 70
Par. By my troth, sir, if I were to live this present
hour, I will tell true. Let me see : Spurio, a
hundred and fifty ; Sebastian, so many ; Coram-
bus, so many; Jaques, so many; Guiltian, Cosmo,
Lodowick, and Gratii, two hundred and fifty
each ; mine own company, Chitopher, Vaumond,
Bentii, two hundred and fifty each : so that the
muster-file, rotten and sound, upon my life,
amounts not to fifteen thousand poll ; half of the
which dare not shake the snow from off their 180
cassocks, lest they shake themselves to pieces.
Ber. What shall be done to him ?
First Lord. Nothing, but let him have thanks. De-
Act IV. Sc. iii. ALL'S WELL
mand of him my condition, and what credit I
have with the Duke.
First Sold. Well, that 's set down. [Reads] You shall
demand of him, whether one Captain Dumain be
i' the camp, a Frenchman ; what his reputation
is with the Duke ; what his valour, honesty, and
expertness in wars ; or whether he thinks it were 190
not possible, with well-weighing sums of gold,
to corrupt him to a revolt. What say you to
this ? what do you know of it ?
Par. I beseech you, let me answer to the particular
of the inter'gatories : demand them singly.
First Sold. Do you know this Captain Dumain ?
Par. I know him : a' was a botcher's 'prentice in
Paris, from whence he was whipped for getting
the shrieve's fool with child, — a dumb innocent,
that could not say him nay. 200
Ber. Nay, by your leave, hold your hands ; though I
know his brains are forfeit to the next tile that
falls.
First Sold. Well, is this captain in the Duke of
Florence 's camp ?
Par. Upon my knowledge, he is, and lousy.
First Lord. Nay, look not so upon me j we shall hear
of your lordship anon.
First Sold. What is his reputation with the Duke ?
Par. The Duke knows him for no other but a poor 210
officer of mine ; and writ to me this other day to
turn him out o' the band : I think I have his
letter in my pocket.
First Sold. Marry, we'll search.
Par. In good sadness, I do not know ; either it is
THAT ENDS WELL Act IV. Sc. iii.
there, or it is upon a file with the Duke's other
letters in my tent.
First Sold. Here 'tis ; here 's a paper : shall I read it
to you ?
Par. I do not know if it be it or no. 220
Ber. Our interpreter does it well.
First Lord. Excellently.
First Sold, [reads'] Dian, the count's a fool, and full of gold, —
Par. That is not the Duke's letter, sir ; that is an
advertisement to a proper maid in Florence, one
Diana, to take heed of the allurement of one
Count Rousillon, a foolish idle boy, but for all
that very ruttish : I pray you, sir, put it up
again.
First Sold. Nay, I'll read it first, by your favour. 230
Par. My meaning in 't, I protest, was very honest in
the behalf of the maid j for I knew the young
count to be a dangerous and lascivious boy, who
is a whale to virginity and devours up all the fry
it finds.
Ber. Damnable both-sides rogue !
First Sold, [reads'] When he swears oaths, bid him drop
gold, and take it ;
After he scores, he never pays the score :
Half won is match well made ; match, and well make it ;
He ne'er pays after-debts, take it before ; 240
And say a soldier, Dian, told thee this,
Men are to mell with, boys are not to kiss :
For count of this, the count 's a fool, I know it,
Who pays before, but not when he does owe it.
Thine, as he vowed to thee in thine ear,
Parolles.
Act IV. Sc. iii. ALL'S WELL
Ber. He shall be whipped through the army with this
rhyme in 's forehead.
Sec. Lord. This is your devoted friend, sir, the mani-
fold linguist and the armipotent soldier. 250
Ber. I could endure any thing before but a cat, and
now he 's a cat to me.
First Sold. I perceive, sir, by the general's looks, we
shall be fain to hang you.
Par. My life, sir, in any case : not that I am afraid
to die ; but that, my offences being many, I would
repent out the remainder of nature : let me live,
sir, in a dungeon, i' the stocks, or any where, so
I may live.
First Sold. We'll see what may be done, so you 260
confess freely ; therefore, once more to this
Captain Dumain : you have answered to his
reputation with the Duke and to his valour :
what is his honesty ?
Par. He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister : for
rapes and ravishments he parallels Nessus : he
professes not keeping of oaths ; in breaking 'em
he is stronger than Hercules : he will lie, sir,
with such volubility, that you would think truth
were a fool : drunkenness is his best virtue, for 270
he will be swine-drunk ; and in his sleep he does
little harm, save to his bed-clothes about him ;
but they know his conditions and lay him in
straw. I have but little more to say, sir, of his
honesty : he has every thing that an honest man
should not have ; what an honest man should
have, he has nothing.
First Lord. I begin to love him for this.
THAT ENDS WELL Act IV. Sc. iii.
Ber. For this description of thine honesty ? A pox
upon him for me, he's more and more a cat. 280
First Sold. What say you to his expertness in war.
Par. Faith, sir, has led the drum before the English
tragedians ; to belie him, I will not, and more
of his soldiership I know not ; except, in that
country he had the honour to be the officer at a
place there called Mile-end, to instruct for the
doubling of files : I would do the man what
honour I can, but of this I am not certain.
First Lord. He hath out-villained villany so far, that
the rarity redeems him. 290
Ber. A pox on him, he 's a cat still.
First Sold. His qualities being at this poor price, I
need not to ask you if gold will corrupt him to
revolt.
Par. Sir, for a quart d'ecu he will sell the fee-simple
of his salvation, the inheritance of it ; and cut
the entail from all remainders, and a perpetual
succession for it perpetually.
First Sold. What 's his brother, the other Captain Dumain ?
Sec. Lord. Why does he ask him of me ? 200
First Sold. What 's he ?
Par. E'en a crow o' the same nest ; not altogether so
great as the first in goodness, but greater a great
deal in evil : he excels his brother for a coward,
yet his brother is reputed one of the best that
is : in a retreat he outruns any lackey ; marry, in
coming on he has the cramp.
First Sold. If your life be saved, will you undertake
to betray the Florentine ?
Par. Ay, and the captain of his horse, Count Rousillon. 310
Act IV. Sc. iii. ALL'S WELL
First Sold. I'll whisper with the general, and know
his pleasure.
Par. [^side] I '11 no more drumming ; a plague of all
drums ! Only to seem to deserve well, and to
beguile the supposition of that lascivious young
boy the count, have I run into this danger. Yet
who would have suspected an ambush where I
was taken ?
First Sold. There is no remedy, sir, but you must die :
the general says, you that have so traitorously 320
discovered the secrets of your army and made
such pestiferous reports of men very nobly held,
can serve the world for no honest use ; therefore
you must die. Come, headsman, off with his head.
Par. O Lord, sir, let me live, or let me see my death !
First Sold. That shall you, and take your leave of all
your friends. \Unblinding him.
So, look about you : know you any here ?
Ber. Good morrow, noble captain.
Sec. Lord. God bless you, Captain Parolles. 330
First Lord. God save you, noble captain.
Sec. Lord. Captain, what greeting will you to my
Lord Lafeu ? I am for France.
First Lord. Good captain, will you give me a copy of
the sonnet you writ to Diana in behalf of the
Count Rousillon ? an I were not a very coward,
I 'Id compel it of you : but fare you well.
[Exeunt Bertram and Lords.
First Sold. You are undone, captain, all but your
scarf; that has a knot on 't yet.
Par. Who cannot be crushed with a plot ? 340
First Sold. If you could find out a country where but
THAT ENDS WELL Act IV< Sc iv
women were that had received so much shame,
you might begin an impudent nation. Fare ye
well, sir ; I am for France too : we shall speak
of you there. [Exit with Soldiers.
Par. Yet am I thankful : if my heart were great,
'Twould burst at this. Captain I '11 be no more ;
But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft
As captain shall : simply the thing I am
Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart,
Let him fear this, for it will come to pass 251
That every braggart shall be found an ass.
Rust, sword ! cool, blushes ! and, Parolles, live
Safest in shame ! being fool'd, by foolery thrive !
There 's place and means for every man alive.
I '11 after them. [Exit.
Scene IV.
Florence. The Widow's house.
Enter Helena, Widow, and Diana.
Hel. That you may well perceive I have not wrong'd you,
One of the greatest in the Christian world
Shall be my surety ; 'fore whose throne 'tis needful,
Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneel :
Time was, I did him a desired office,
Dear almost as his life ; which gratitude
Through flinty tartar's bosom would peep forth,
And answer, thanks : I duly am inform'd
His Grace is at Marseilles ; to which place
We have convenient convoy. You must know, 10
I am supposed dead : the army breaking,
My husband hies him home ; where, heaven aiding,
Act IV. Sc. iv. ALL'S WELL
And by the leave of my good lord the king,
We '11 be before our welcome.
Wid. Gentle madam,
You never had a servant to whose trust
Your business was more welcome.
He/. Nor you, mistress,
Ever a friend whose thoughts more truly labour
To recompense your love : doubt not but heaven
Hath brought me up to be your daughter's dower,
As it hath fated her to be my motive 20
And helper to a husband. But, O strange men !
That can such sweet use make of what they hate,
When saucy trusting of the cozen'd thoughts
Defiles the pitchy night : so lust doth play
With what it loathes for that which is away.
But more of this hereafter. You, Diana,
Under my poor instructions yet must suffer
Something in my behalf.
Dia. Let death and honesty
Go with your impositions, I am yours
Upon your will to suffer.
Hel. Yet, I pray you : 30
But with the word the time will bring on summer,
When briers shall have leaves as well as thorns,
And be as sweet as sharp. We must away ;
Our waggon is prepared, and time revives us :
All's well that ends well: still the fine's the
crown ;
Whate'er the course, the end is the renown. [Exeunt.
THAT ENDS WELL Act IV. Sc. v.
Scene V.
Rousillon. The Count's palace
Enter Countess, Lafeu, and Clown.
Laf. No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipt-
taffeta fellow there, whose villanous saffron
would have made all the unbaked and doughy
youth of a nation in hi6 colour : your daughter-
in-law had been alive at this hour, and your son
here at home, more advanced by the king than
by that red-tailed humble-bee I speak of.
Count. I would I had not known him ; it was the
death of the most virtuous gentlewoman that
ever nature had praise for creating. If she had io
partaken of my flesh, and cost me the dearest
groans of a mother, I could not have owed her
a more rooted love.
Laf. 'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady ; we may
pick a thousand salads ere we light on such
another herb.
Clo. Indeed, sir, she was the sweet-marjoram of the
salad, or rather, the herb of grace.
Laf. They are not herbs, you knave ; they are nose-
herbs. 20
Clo. I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir ; I have not
much skill in grass.
Laf. Whether dost thou profess thyself, a knave or
a fool ?
Clo. A fool, sir, at a woman's service, and a knave at
a man's.
Laf. Your distinction ?
Act IV. Sc. v. ALL'S WELL
Clo. I would cozen the man of his wife and do his
service.
Laf So you were a brave knave at his service, 30
indeed.
Clo. And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, to
do her service.
Laf. I will subscribe for thee, thou art both knave
and fool.
Clo. At your service.
Laf No, no, no.
Clo. Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve as
great a prince as you are.
Laf Who 's that ? a Frenchman ? 40
Clo. Faith, sir, a' has an English name; but his fisnomy
is more hotter in France than there.
Laf. What prince is that ?
Clo. The black prince, sir ; alias, the prince of dark-
ness ; alias, the devil.
Laf. Hold thee, there's my purse: I give thee not
this to suggest thee from thy master thou talkest
of; serve him still.
Clo. I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved
a great fire ; and the master I speak of ever $o
keeps a good fire. But, sure, he is the prince
of the world ; let his nobility remain in 's court.
I am for the house with the narrow gate, which
I take to be too little for pomp to enter : some
that humble themselves may ; but the many will
be too chill and tender, and they '11 be for the
flowery way that leads to the broad gate and the
great fire.
Laf. Go thy ways, I begin to be aweary of thee ; and
THAT ENDS WELL Act IV- Sc- v-
I tell thee so before, because I would not fall out 60
with thee. Go thy ways ; let my horses be well
looked to, without any tricks.
Clo. If I put any tricks upon 'em, sir, they shall be
jades' tricks ; which are their own right by the
law of nature. [Exit.
Laf. A shrewd knave and an unhappy.
Count. So he is. My lord that 's gone made himself
much sport out of him : by his authority he remains
here, which he thinks is a patent for his sauciness ;
and, indeed, he has no pace, but runs where he will. 70
Laf. I like him well ; 'tis not amiss. And I was
about to tell you, since I heard of the good
lady's death and that my lord your son was upon
his return home, I moved the king my master
to speak in the behalf of my daughter ; which,
in the minority of them both, his majesty, out of
a self-gracious remembrance, did first propose :
his highness hath promised me to do it : and, to
stop up the displeasure he hath conceived against
your son, there is no fitter matter. How does 80
your ladyship like it ?
Count. With very much content, my lord ; and I wish
it happily effected.
Laf. His highness comes post from Marseilles, of as
able body as when he numbered thirty : he will
be here to-morrow, or I am deceived by him
that in such intelligence hath seldom failed.
Count. It rejoices me, that I hope I shall see him ere I
die. I have letters that my son will be here to-
night : I shall beseech your lordship to remain 90
with me till they meet together.
Act V. Sc. i. ALL'S WELL
Laf. Madam, I was thinking with what manners I
might safely be admitted.
Count. You need but plead your honourable privilege.
Laf Lady, of that I have made a bold charter ; but I
thank my God it holds yet.
Re-enter Clown.
Clo. O madam, yonder 's my lord your son with a
patch of velvet on 's face : whether there be a
scar under 't or no, the velvet knows ; but 'tis
a goodly patch of velvet : his left cheek is a loo
cheek of two pile and a half, but his right cheek
is worn bare.
Laf A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good
livery of honour ; so belike is that.
Clo. But it is your carbonadoed face.
Laf Let us go see your son, I pray you : I long to
talk with the young noble soldier.
Clo. Faith, there's a dozen of 'em, with delicate fine
hats and most courteous feathers, which bow the
head and nod at every man. [Exeunt.
ACT FIFTH.
Scene I.
Marseilles. A street.
Enter Helena, Widoiu, and Diana, ivitb two Attendants.
Hel. But this exceeding posting day and night
Must wear your spirits low ; we cannot help it :
But since you have made the days and nights as one,
To wear your gentle limbs in my affairs,
THAT ENDS WELL Act V- Sc- »•
Be bold you do so grow in my requital
As nothing can unroot you. In happy time ;
Enter a Getitleman.
This man may help me to his majesty's ear,
If he would spend his power. God save you, sir.
Gent. And you.
He/. Sir, I have seen you in the court of France. io
Gent. I have been sometimes there.
He/. I do presume, sir, that you are not fallen
From the report that goes upon your goodness ;
And therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions,
Which lay nice manners by, I put you to
The use of your own virtues, for the which
I shall continue thankful.
Gent. What 's your will ?
He/. That it will please you
To give this poor petition to the king,
And aid me with that store of power you have 20
To come into his presence.
Gent. The king 's not here.
He/. Not here, sir !
Gent. Not, indeed :
He hence removed last night and with more haste
Than is his use.
W"id. Lord, how we lose our pains !
He/. All's well that ends well yet,
Though time seem so adverse and means unfit.
I do beseech you, whither is he gone ?
Gent. Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon ;
Whither I am going.
Hel. I do beseech you, sir,
Act V. Sc. ii. ALL'S WELL
Since you are like to see the king before me, 30
Commend the paper to his gracious hand,
Which I presume shall render you no blame
But rather make you thank your pains for it.
I will come after you with what good speed
Our means will make us means.
Gent. This I '11 do for you.
Hel. And you shall find yourself to be well thank'd,
Whate'er falls more. We must to horse again.
Go, go, provide. \_Exeunt.
Scene II.
Rousillon. Before the Count's palace.
Enter Clown, and Parolles, following.
Par. Good Monsieur Lavache, give my Lord Lafeu
this letter : I have ere now, sir, been better
known to you, when I have held familiarity
with fresher clothes ; but I am now, sir,
muddied in fortune's mood, and smell some-
what strong of her strong displeasure.
Clo. Truly, fortune's displeasure is but sluttish, if it
smell so strongly as thou speakest of: I will
henceforth eat no fish of fortune's buttering.
Prithee, allow the wind. IO
Par. Nay, you need not to stop your nose, sir •, I
spake but by a metaphor.
Clo. Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop
my nose ; or against any man's metaphor.
Prithee, get thee further.
Par. Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper.
Clo. Foh ! prithee, stand away : a paper from
THAT ENDS WELL Act V. Sc. ii.
fortune's close-stool to give to a nobleman !
Look, here he comes himself.
Enter Lafeu.
Here is a purr of fortune's, sir, or of fortune's 20
cat, — but not a musk-cat, — that has fallen into
the unclean fishpond of her displeasure, and, as
he says, is muddied withal : pray you, sir, use
the carp as you may ; for he looks like a poor,
decayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally knave. I
do pity his distress in my similes of comfort and
leave him to your lordship. [Exit.
Par. My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly
scratched. .
Laf. And what would you have me to do ? 'Tis 30
too late to pare her nails now. Wherein have
you played the knave with fortune, that she should
scratch you, who of herself is a good lady and
would not have knaves thrive long under her ?
There's a quart d'ecu for you : let the j ustices make
you and fortune friends ; I am for other business.
Par. I beseech your honour to hear me one single word.
Laf. You beg a single penny more : come, you shall
ha 't ; save your word.
Par. My name, my good lord, is Parolles. 40
Laf. You beg more than ' word,' then. Cox my
passion ! give me your hand. How does your
drum ?
Par. O my good lord, you were the first that
found me !
Laf. Was I, in sooth ? and I was the first that
lost thee.
.3 E2
ActV. Sc. iii. ALL'S WELL
Par. It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some
grace, for you did bring me out.
Laf. Out upon thee, knave ! dost thou put upon me 5°
at once both the office of God and the devil ?
One brings thee in grace and the other brings
thee out. [Trumpets sound.] The king 's com-
ing ; I know by his trumpets. Sirrah, in-
quire further after me ; I had talk of you last
night : though you are a fool and a knave, you
shall eat ; go to, follow.
Par. I praise God for you. [Exeunt.
Scene III.
Rousillon. The Count's palace.
Flourish. Enter King, Countess, Lafeu, the two
French Lords, with Attendants.
King. We lost a jewel of her ; and our esteem
"Was made much poorer by it : but your son,
As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know
Her estimation home.
Count. 'Tis past, my liege :
And I beseech your majesty to make it
Natural rebellion, done i' the blaze of youth •,
"When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force,
O'erbears it and burns on.
King. My honour'd lady,
I have forgiven and forgotten all ;
Though my revenges were high bent upon him, io
And watch'd the time to shoot.
Laf. This I must say,
But first I beg my pardon, the young lord
THAT ENDS WELL Act V. Sc. iii.
Did to his majesty, his mother and his lady
Offence of mighty note ; but to himself
The greatest wrong of all. He lost a wife
Whose beauty did astonish the survey
Of richest eyes, whose words all ears took captive,
Whose dear perfection hearts that scorn'd to serve
Humbly call'd mistress.
King. Praising what is lost
Makes the remembrance dear. Well, call him hither ;
We are reconciled, and the first view shall kill 2 1
All repetition : let him not ask our pardon ;
The nature of his great offence is dead,
And deeper than oblivion we do bury
The incensing relics of it : let him approach,
A stranger, no offender ; and inform him
So 'tis our will he should.
Gent. I shall, my liege. [Exit.
King. What says he to your daughter ? have you spoke ?
Laf. All that he is hath reference to your highness.
King. Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent me
That set him high in fame.
Enter Bertram.
Laf. He looks well on 't. 3 1
King. I am not a day of season,
For thou mayst see a sunshine and a hail
In me at once : but to the brightest beams
Distracted clouds give way ; so stand thou forth ;
The time is fair again.
Ber. My high-repented blames,
Dear sovereign, pardon to me.
King. All is whole ;
Act V. Sc. iii. ALL'S WELL
Not one word more of the consumed time.
Let 's take the instant by the forward top ;
For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees 40
The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time
Steals ere we can effect them. You remember
The daughter of this lord ?
Ber. Admiringly, my liege, at first
I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart
Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue :
Where the impression of mine eye infixing,
Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me,
Which warp'd the line of every other favour ;
Scorn'd a fair colour, or express'd it stolen ; 5°
Extended or contracted all proportions
To a most hideous object : thence it came
That she whom all men praised and whom myself,
Since I have lost, have loved, was in mine eye
The dust that did offend it.
King. Well excused :
That thou didst love her, strikes some scores away
From the great compt : but love that comes too late,
Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried,
To the great sender turns a sour offence,
Crying ' That's good that's gone.' Our rash faults
Make trivial price of serious things we have, 61
Not knowing them until we know their grave :
Oft our displeasures to ourselves unjust,
Destroy our friends and after weep their dust :
Our own love waking cries to see what 's done,
While shameful hate sleeps out the afternoon.
Be this sweet Helen's knell, and now forget her.
Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin :
THAT ENDS WELL Act V. Sc. Hi.
The main consents are had ; and here we '11 stay
To see our widower's second marriage-day. 70
Count. Which better than the first, O dear heaven, bless !
Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cesse !
Laf. Come on, my son, in whom my house's name
Must be digested, give a favour from you
To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter,
That she may quickly come. [Bertram gives a ring.]
By my old beard,
And every hair that 's on 't, Helen, that 's dead,
Was a sweet creature : such a ring as this,
The last that e'er I took her leave at court,
I saw upon her finger.
Ber. Hers it was not. 80
King. Now, pray you, let me see it; for mine eye,
While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd to't.
This ring was mine ; and, when I gave it Helen,
I bade her, if her fortunes ever stood
Necessitied to help, that by this token
I would relieve her. Had you that craft, to reave her
Of what should stead her most ?
Ber. My gracious sovereign,
Howe'er it pleases you to take it so,
The ring was never hers.
Count. Son, on my life,
I have seen her wear it-, and she reckon'd it 90
At her life's rate.
Laf I am sure I saw her wear it.
Ber. You are deceived, my lord ; she never saw it :
In Florence was it from a casement thrown me,
Wrapp'd in a paper, which contain'd the name
Of her that threw it : noble she was, and thought
Act V. Sc. iii. ALL'S WELL
I stood engaged : but when I had subscribed
To mine own fortune and inform'd her fully
I could not answer in that course of honour
As she had made the overture, she ceased
In heavy satisfaction and would never ioo
Receive the ring again.
King. Plutus himself,
That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine,
Hath not in nature's mystery more science
Than I have in this ring : 'twas mine, 'twas Helen's,
Whoever gave it you. Then, if you know
That you are well acquainted with yourself,
Confess 'twas hers, and by what rough enforcement
You got it from her : she call'd the saints to surety
That she would never put it from her finger,
Unless she gave it to yourself in bed, no
Where you have never come, or sent it us
Upon her great disaster.
Ber. She never saw it.
King. Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine honour ;
And makest conjectural fears to come into me,
Which I would fain shut out. If it should prove
That thou art so inhuman, — 'twill not prove so; —
And yet I know not : thou didst hate her deadly,
And she is dead ; which nothing, but to close
Her eyes myself, could win me to believe,
More than to see this ring. Take him away. 1 20
[Guards seize Bertram.
My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall,
Shall tax my fears of little vanity,
Having vainly fear'd too little. Away with him !
We'll sift this matter further.
THAT ENDS WELL Act V. Sc. iii.
Ber. If you shall prove
This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy
Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence,
Where yet she never was. [Exit, guarded.
King. I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings.
Enter a Gentleman.
Gent. Gracious sovereign,
Whether I have been to blame or no, I know not :
Here's a petition from a Florentine, 130
Who hath for four or five removes come short
To tender it herself. I undertook it,
Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and speech
Of the poor suppliant, who by this I know
Is here attending : her business looks in her
With an importing visage ; and she told me,
In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern
Your highness with herself.
King, [reads] Upon his many protestations to marry
me when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, 140
he won me. Now is the Count Rousillon a
widower : his vows are forfeited to me, and my
honour 's paid to him. He stole from Florence,
taking no leave, and I follow him to his country
for justice : grant it me, O king ! in you it best
lies ; otherwise a seducer flourishes, and a poor
maid is undone. Diana Capilet.
Laf. I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll for
this : I '11 none of him.
King. The heavens have thought well on thee, Lafeu, 150
To bring forth this discovery. Seek these suitors :
Go speedily and bring again the count.
Act V. Sc. iii. ALL'S WELL
I am afeard the life of Helen, lady,
Was foully snatch'd.
Count. Now, justice on the doers !
Re-enter Bertram, guarded.
King. I wonder, sir, sith wives are monsters to you,
And that you fly them as you swear them lordship,
Yet you desire to marry.
Enter Widow and Diana.
What woman 's that ?
Dia. I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine,
Derived from the ancient Capilet :
My suit, as I do understand, you know, 160
And therefore know how far I may be pitied.
Wid. I am her mother, sir, whose age and honour
Both suffer under this complaint we bring,
And both shall cease, without your remedy.
King. Come hither, count ; do you know these women ?
Ber. My lord, I neither can nor will deny
But that I know them : do they charge me further ?
Dia. Why do you look so strange upon your wife ?
Ber. She 's none of mine, my lord.
Dia. If you shall marry,
You give away this hand, and that is mine; 170
You give away heaven's vows, and those are mine ;
You give away myself, which is known mine ;
For I by vow am so embodied yours,
That she which marries you must marry me,
Either both or none.
Laf. Your reputation comes too short for my daugh-
ter ; you are no husband for her.
THAT ENDS WELL Act V- Sc- Hi-
Ber. My lord, this is a fond and desperate creature,
Whom sometime I have laugh'd with : let your
highness
Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour 180
Than for to think that I would sink it here.
King. Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill to friend
Till your deeds gain them : fairer prove your honour
Than in my thought it lies.
Dia. Good my lord,
Ask him upon his oath, if he does think
He had not my virginity.
King. What say'st thou to her ?
Ber. She 's impudent, my lord,
And was a common gamester to the camp.
Dia. He does me wrong, my lord ; if I were so,
He might have bought me at a common price : ioo
Do not believe him. O, behold this ring,
Whose high respect and rich validity
Did lack a parallel ; yet for all that
He gave it to a commoner o' the camp,
If I be one.
Count. He blushes, and 'tis hit :
Of six preceding ancestors, that gem,
Conferr'd by testament to the sequent issue,
Hath it been owed and worn. This is his wife ;
That ring 's a thousand proofs.
King. Methought you said
You saw one here in court could witness it. 200
Dia. I did, my lord, but loath am to produce
So bad an instrument : his name 's Parolles.
Laf. I saw the man to-day, if man he be.
King. Find him, and bring him hither. [Exit an Attendant.
Act V. Sc. Hi. ALL'S WELL
Ber. What of him ?
He 's quoted for a most perfidious slave,
With all the spots o' the world tax'd and debojh'd ;
Whose nature sickens but to speak a truth.
Am I or that or this for what he '11 utter,
That will speak any thing ?
King. She hath that ring of yours.
Ber. I think she has : certain it is I liked her, 210
And boarded her i' the wanton way of youth :
She knew her distance, and did angle for me,
Madding my eagerness with her restraint,
As all impediments in fancy's course
Are motives of more fancy ; and, in fine,
Her infinite cunning, with her modern grace,
Subdued me to her rate : she got the ring ;
And I had that which any inferior might
At market-price have bought.
£)/a# I must be patient :
You, that have turn'd off a first so noble wife, 220
May justly diet it. I pray you yet,
Since you lack virtue I will lose a husband,
Send for your ring, I will return it home,
And give me mine again.
Ber. I have it not.
King. What ring was yours, I pray you ?
Dla% Sir, much like
The same upon your finger.
King. Know you this ring? this ring was his of late.
Dia. And this was it I gave him, being abed.
King. The story then goes false, you threw it him
Out of a casement.
Dia. I have spoke the truth. 230
THAT ENDS WELL Act V* Sc iH-
Enter Parolles.
Ber. My lord, I do confess the ring was hers.
King. You boggle shrewdly, every feather starts you.
Is this the man you speak of ?
Dia. Ay, my lord.
King. Tell me, sirrah, but tell me true, I charge you,
Not fearing the displeasure of your master,
Which on your just proceeding I'll keep ofF,
By him and by this woman here what know you ?
Par. So please your majesty, my master hath been
an honourable gentleman : tricks he hath had
in him, which gentlemen have. 240
King. Come, come, to the purpose : did he love this
woman ?
Par. Faith, sir, he did love her ; but how ?
King. How, I pray you ?
Par. He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves a
woman.
King. How is that ?
Par. He loved her, sir, and loved her not.
King. As thou art a knave, and no knave. What an
equivocal companion is this ! 25c
Par. I am a poor man, and at your majesty's command.
Laf. He 's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty orator.
Dia. Do you know he promised me marriage ?
Par. Faith, I know more than I'll speak.
King. But wilt thou not speak all thou knowest ?
Par. Yes, so please your majesty. I did go hetween
them, as I said 5 but more than that, he loved
her : for indeed he was mad for her, and talked
of Satan, and of Limbo, and of Furies, and I
Act V. Sc. iii. ALL'S WELL
know not what : yet I was in that credit with 260
them at that time, that I knew of their going to
bed, and of other motions, as promising her mar-
riage, and things which would derive me ill will to
speak of; therefore I will not speak what I know.
King. Thou hast spoken all already, unless thou canst
say they are married : but thou art too fine in thy
evidence j therefore stand aside.
This ring, you say, was yours ?
Dia. Ay, my good lord.
King. Where did you buy it ? or who gave it you ?
Dia. It was not given me, nor I did not buy it. 270
King. Who lent it you ?
Dia. It was not lent me neither.
King. Where did you find it then ?
Dia. I found it not.
King. If it were yours by none of all these ways,
How could you give it him ?
Dia. I never gave it him.
Laf. This woman 's an easy glove, my lord ; she goes
off and on at pleasure.
King. This ring was mine ; I gave it his first wife.
Dia. It might be yours or hers, for aught I know.
King. Take her away ; I do not like her now ;
To prison with her : and away with him. 280
Unless thou tell'st me where thou hadst this ring,
Thou diest within this hour.
Dia. I'll never tell you.
King. Take her away.
Dia. I '11 put in bail, my liege.
King. I think thee now some common customer.
Dia. By Jove, if ever I knew man, 'twas you.
THAT ENDS WELL Act V. Sc. iii.
King. Wherefore hast thou accused him all this while ?
Dia. Because he 's guilty, and he is not guilty :
He knows I am no maid, and he '11 swear to 't ;
I '11 swear I am a maid, and he knows not.
Great king, I am no strumpet, by my life ; 290
I am either maid, or else this old man's wife.
King. She does abuse our ears : to prison with her.
Dia. Good mother, fetch my bail. Stay, royal sir :
[Exit Widow.
The jeweller that owes the ring is sent for,
And he shall surety me. But for this lord,
Who hath abused me, as he knows himself,
Though yet he never harm'd me, here I quit him :
He knows himself my bed he hath defiled ;
And at that time he got his wife with child :
Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick: 300
So there 's my riddle, — One that 's dead is quick :
And now behold the meaning.
Re-enter Widow, with Helena.
King. Is there no exorcist
Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes ?
Is 't real that I see ?
Hel. No, my good lord ;
'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see,
The name and not the thing.
Ber. Both, both. O, pardon !
Hel. O my good lord, when I was like this maid,
I found you wondrous kind. There is your ring ;
And, look you, here 's your letter ; this it says :
'When from my finger you can get this ring 310
And are by me with child,' &c. This is done :
ActV. Sc. iii. ALL'S WELL
Will you be mine, now you are doubly won ?
Ber. If she, my liege, can make me know this clearly,
I '11 love her dearly, ever, ever dearly.
He/. If it appear not plain and prove untrue,
Deadly divorce step between me and you !
0 my dear mother, do I see you living ?
Laf. Mine eyes smell onions ; I shall weep anon :
[To Parolles] Good Tom Drum, lend me a hand-
kercher : so,
1 thank thee : wait on me home, I '11 make sport with
thee : 320
Let thy courtesies alone, they are scurvy ones.
King. Let us from point to point this story know,
To make the even truth in pleasure flow.
[To Diana] If thou be'st yet a fresh uncropped flower,
Choose thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy dower ;
For I can guess that by thy honest aid
Thou kept'st a wife herself, thyself a maid.
Of that and all the progress, more and less,
Resolvedly more leisure shall express :
All yet seems well ; and if it end so meet, 330
The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.
[Flourish.
EPILOGUE.
King. The king 's a beggar, now the play is done :
All is well ended, if this suit be won,
That you express content ; which we will pay,
With strife to please you, day exceeding day :
Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts ;
Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts.
[Exeiuit.
THAT ENDS WELL
Glossary.
A = one ; I. iii. 243.
About, " go not about," " do not
beat about the bush " ; I. iii. 193.
Accordingly, equally ; II. v. 8.
Across, "break across." a term used
in tilting; here used for a passage
at arms of wit ; II. i. 70.
Act, action ; I. ii. 31.
Admiration, that which excites ad-
miration ; II. i. 91.
Adoptious, " a. Christendoms " = " a-
dopted christian names"; I. i. 183.
Advertisement, advice ; IV. iii. 225.
Advice, discretion ; III. iv. 19.
Alone, " alone must think," must
only think ; I. i. 194.
Ample, amply ; III. v. 46.
Anatomized, laid open, shown up ;
IV. iii. 35.
Antiquity, old age : II. iii. 212.
Appeack'd = impeached, informed
against (you) ; I. iii. 196.
Applications, attempts at healing ; I.
ii. 75.
Apprehensive, "ruled by imaginations
and caprices," fantastic ; I. ii. 61.
Approof, " so in a. lives not his
epitaph as in your royal speech "
(a)
= " his epitaph receives by noth-
ing such confirmation and living
truth as by your speech " ; I. ii.
52 ; " valiant a." = approved
valour ; II. v. 2.
Approved, proved ; I. ii. 11.
Araise, raise from the dead ; II. i. 79.
Armipotent, omnipotent; IV. iii. 250.
Artists, " relinquished of the artists,"
i.e. given up, despaired of by
learned doctors ; II. iii. 10.
Attempt, venture ; I. iii. 259.
Attends, awaits ; II. iii. 52.
Authentic, of acknowledged author-
ity ; II. iii. 12.
Avails, advantage, promotion ; III.
i. 22.
Band =bond ; IV. ii. 56.
Barber's chair, " like a b. c." a pro-
verbial expression (found in Ray's
Proverbs, etc.) ; II. ii. 17.
Baring, shaving ; IV. i. 54.
Barnes (the reading of Folio 1 ;
the other Folios "beams" or
" barns "), children ; I. iii. 28.
Bauble, the fool's rod, the badge of
his office ; IV. v. 32.
a) ^=^2^5?
:_— ^gj*
(a) From MS. 6S29, National Library, Paris.
{i) and (c) From ivory carvings in the Maskell collection and in the Louvre.
Glossary
ALL 'S WELL
Be, "to be" = to be called; I. ii. 60.
Bestoiv, guard, treasure up ; I. iii.
230.
Better = men your superior; III. i.
22.
Big, haughty ; I. iii. 98.
Blaze (Theobald's conjecture for
"blade" of the Folios), heat,
fire ; V. iii. 6.
Blood, nature, disposition ; I. iii.
136 ; passion ; III. vii. 21.
Boarded, wooed ; V. iii. 211.
Bold, assured ; V. i. 5.
Bond, duty, obligation ; I. iii. 193.
Both, " both our mothers," the
mother of us both ; I. iii. 168.
Braid, deceitful ; IV. ii. 73.
Braving, defiant ; I. ii. 3.
Breaking, breaking up, disbanding ;
IV. iv. 11.
Breathe, take exercise; II. iii. 261.
Breathing, exercise, action ; I. ii. 18.
Brief, "now-born br. "i.e. "thecon-
tract recently made" (Warburton,
"new-born"); II. iii. 181.
Bring=tzke ; III. v. 96.
Broken, " my mouth no more were
broken," had not lost its teeth ;
II. iii. 61.
Brokes, uses as a medium ; III. v. 73.
Brought (?), "brought with him"
(changed by Theobald to
" bought"); II. i. 65.
Bunting, a bird resembling a lark in
every particular, but with little
or no song ; II. v. 6.
Buttock; " pin b., quatch b., brawn
b." = thin b., flat b., fleshy b.; II.
ii. 18.
By, pass by ; (Warburton supposes
a line to be lost after "fast"');
II. iii. 236.
Canary, "aquickand lively dance";
II. i. 77.
" Cant no other," can it be no other
way ; I. iii. 170.
Capable of, apt to receive the impress
of, susceptible : I. i. 102 ; I. i. 218.
Cap of the time, " they wear them-
selves in the c."=" they are the
very ornaments of the time" ; II.
1 55-
Capriccio, caprice, whim ; II. iii. 299.
Captious, "recipient, capable of re-
ceiving what is put into it "
(Malone); others suggest "cap'-
cious) " or "capacious," or =
Latin " captiosus," i.e. deceitful
or fallacious; I. iii. 207.
Carbonadoed, cut across, like meat for
broiling ; IV. v. 105.
Case, flay, skin ; strip ofF his dis-
guise ; III. vi. 107.
Catch'd, caught, perceived ; I. iii.
175-
Cesse (the reading of Folio 1 ; Folio
2, eeasse ; Folio 3, ceass), cease;
V. iii. 72.
Champion, knight who fought for a
person ; IV. ii. 50.
Change, interchange ; III. ii. 100.
Chape, "the metallic part at the end
of the scabbard "; IV. iii. 154.
Charge, cost ; II. iii. 1*16.
Choice; " most rich c." choicest
treasure ; III. vii. 26.
Choughs' language, chattering ; IV. i.
22.
Cites, proves; I. iii. 215.
Clew, a ball of thread ; I. iii. 187.
Coil, ado, fuss; " kept a coil with,"
made a fuss about ; II. i. 27.
Collateral, indirect ; I. i. 95.
Colour, " holds not c," is not in
keeping ; II. v. 61.
Commission, warrant ; II. iii. 268.
Commoner, harlot; V. iii. 1 94.
Companion, fellow (used contemptu-
ously) ; V. iii. 250.
Company, companion ; IV. iii. 35.
Composition, compact; IV. iii. 20.
Compt, account ; V. iii. 57.
Condition, character; IV. iii. 184.
Candied -with, taken my leave of;
IV. iii. 92.
Consolate, console; III. ii. 131.
Convenience, propriety ; III. ii. 75.
THAT ENDS WELL
Glossary
Conversation, intercourse; I. ill. 239.
Coragio, courage ; II. v. 94.
Coranto, a quick, lively dance ; II.
iii. 44.
1234
3
P
Dial, clock, watch ; II. v. 5.
Diet, to prescribe a regimen or scanty
diet (hence " to deny me the full
rights of wife "), V. iii. 221 ; " he
5 6 7 8
P=&
"'
m
a
■«>-
Courante or Coranto
The movements are —
i, 2, simple gauche ; 3, 4, simple droit ; and 5-8, a "double a gauche."
From Naylor's Shakespeare and Music.
Corrupt, misquote ; I. iii. 83.
Count of, take c. of; IV. iii. 243.
County, Count ; III. vii. 22.
" Cox my passion," a corruption of
" God's my passion ! " ; V. ii. 41.
Credence, trust ; III. iii. 2.
Cressid's uncle, i.e. Pandarus ; III. i.
100.
Croivn, " French c"; bald head ; II.
ii. 22.
Croivn, "the fine's the c"; probably
a translation of the Latin pro-
verb, " Finis coronat opus " ; IV. iv.
35-
Curd, curdle ; I. iii. 154.
Curious, careful; I. ii. 21.
Curiously, carefully ; IV. iii. 37.
Custard; " Like him that leaped into
the custard," an allusion to the
custom at City banquets for the
City fool to leap into a large
bowl of custard set for the pur-
pose ; II. v. 38.
Customer, harlot ; V. iii. 284.
Darkly, secretly; IV. iii. 11.
Deadly (used adverbially) ; V. iii.
117.
Death ; " the white d." the paleness
of death ; II. iii. 72.
Debate it, strive for the mastery ; I.
ii. 76.
Detos/i'd= debauched, perverted; II.
iii. 140.
Default, at need ; II. iii. 232.
Deliverance =z delivery ; II. i. 85.
Delivers, tells; IV. iii. 164.
3 F2
is dieted to his hour," i.e. "the
hour of his appointment is fixed";
IV. iii. 32.
Digested, absorbed ; V. iii. 74.
Dilated, prolonged, detailed ; II. i.
59-
Dilemmas, perplexing situations ;
III. vi. 77.
Distinction; "confound d.," make
it impossible to distinguish them
one from the other ; II. iii.
122.
Diurnal, " d. ring," daily circuit;
II. i. 165.
Dole, portion, share; II. iii. 171.
Dolphin, possibly used with a quib-
bling allusion to Dolphin =
Dauphin ; but perhaps only " the
sportive, lively fish " is alluded
to ; II. iii. 26.
From the Hortus Sanitatis (ed. 1536).
Glossary
ALL'S WELL
Ears, ploughs, cultivates ; I. iii. 46.
Embossed, inclosed (like game in a
wood) a term used in hunting ;
III. vi. 103.
Emboivelfd, exhausted ; I. iii. 246.
Encounter, meeting ; HI. vii. 32.
Entertainment, service, pay ; III. vi.
12 ; IV. i. 17.
Entrenched, cut ; II. i. 45.
Estate, rank, social grade; III. vii.
4-
Estates, ranks, social status ; I. iii.
116.
Esteem, high estimation, worth ; V.
iii. 1.
Estimate; " in thee hath e. ," is en-
joyed by thee; II. i. 183.
Even, act up to ; I. iii. 3 ; " make it
e.," grant it; II. i. 194; full ; V.
iii. 323.
Examined, questioned ; III. v. 65.
Exorcist, one who raises spirits ;
V. iii. 302.
Expedient, (?) expeditious, quick ;
II. iii. 181.
Expressive, open-hearted ; II. i. 54.
Eacinerious, Parolles' blunder for
" facinorous " ; II. iii. 30.
Faith, religious faith ; IV. i. 80.
Falls, befalls; V. i. 37.
Fancy, liking, love; II. iii. 170.
Fated, fateful ; I. i. 227.
Favour, face, figure, countenance;
I. i. 90 ; V. iii. 49.
Fed; " highly fed," used quib-
blingly in double sense ; (1) well
fed, and (2) well bred ; perhaps
also with an allusion to the pro-
verb " better fed than taught";
II. ii. 3.
Fee-simple, unconditional possession ;
IV. iii. 295.
Fetch off, rescue; III. vi. 19.
Fine; " in fine " — in short ; III. vii.
33-
Fine, artful ; V. iii. 266.
Fisnomy, the clown's corruption of
" physionomy " ; IV. v. 41.
Fleshes, satiates; IV. iii. 17.
Fond : " fond done, done fond,'
foolishly, done fondly ; I. ii
foolish ; V. iii. 178.
Fondness, love; I. iii. 175.
For = because ; III. v. 44.
Foregone, gone before, past ;
139.
Found=found out; II. iii. 20
IT. 31.
Frank, liberal, generous ; I. ii
' done
'■ 75;
I. iii.
8 ; II.
Gamester, harlot; V. iii. 188.
Garter, " g. up thy arms"; II. iii.
255: cp. the following illustration.
From a painting (early XVI Ith Cent.).
The engraving represents a servant in
attendance at table, whose sleeves are
gartered up and tucked in his girdle
out of the way.
Grace, favour; V. ii. 50.
Gossips, stands gossip, i.e. sponsor
for; I. i. 184.
Go under, pass for ; III. v. 21.
Gross, palpable; I. iii. 177.
Haggish, ugly and wrinkled, like a
hag; I. ii 30.
Hand, " in any h." in any case ; III.
vi. 44.
Haply, perhaps ; III. ii. 79.
Happy; "in h. time,"/.?, "in the
nick of time " ; V. i. 6.
Hawking, hawk-like ; I. i. 101.
THAT ENDS WELL
Glossary
Helm = helmet ; III. iii. 7.
Heraldry; "gives you h." entitles
you to ; II. iii. 268.
Herb of grace, i.e. rue; IV. v. 18.
" Hie jacet," the beginning of an
epitaph meaning " here lies," die
in the attempt; III. vi. 64.
High bent (a metaphor taken from
the bending of a bow); V. iii. 10.
Higher, further up (into Italy); IV.
iii. 45.
High-repented, deeply repented ; V.
iii. 36.
Hilding, a base wretch ; III. vi. 3.
His, its ; I. ii. 42.
Hold, maintain ; I. i. 84.
Holding, binding force ; IV. ii. 27.
Home, thoroughly ; V. iii. 4.
Honesty, chastity ; III. v. 64.
Hoodman (an allusion to the game of
"hood-man blind," or " Blind-
manbuff"); IV. iii. 127. *
Host, lodge ; III. v. 96.
Houseivife; "I play the noble h.
with the time, "spoken ironically;
II. ii. 61.
Hoivsome'er (Folios I and 2, " how-
somere " ; Folio 3, howsomeere ;
Folio 4, howsomere), howsoever ;
I. iii. 56.
Idle, foolish, reckless; II. v. 51;
III. vii. 26.
Important, importunate; III. vii. 21.
Importing, full of import ; V. iii.
136.
Impositions , things imposed ; com-
mands ; IV. iv. 29.
In, into ; V. ii. 48.
In; " to in," to get in ; I. iii. 47.
Inaidible, cureless, incurable ; II. i.
122.
Inducement, instigation; III. ii. 91.
Instance, proof; IV. i. 45.
Intenible, incapable of holding or
retaining ; I. iii. 207.
Intents, intentions; III. iv. 21.
Into (so Folios 1, 2; Folio 3, 4,
" unto "), upon ; I. iii. 259.
Isbels, waiting women generally ;
III. ii. 13, 14.
Jack-an-apes, ape, monkey ; used as
a term of contempt ; III. v. 87.
Joul, knock ; I. iii. 57.
Justified, proved; IV. iii. 58.
Kicky-ivichy, "a ludicrous term for
a wife"; II. iii. 286.
Kind, nature; I. iii. 66; I. iii. 184.
Knoiuingly , from experience ; I. iii.
255.
Lack, want, need ; III. iv. 19.
Languishings, lingering malady ; I.
iii. 234.
Last, last time ; V. iii. 79.
Late, lately; I. iii. 109.
Leaguer, camp of besieging army ;
III. vi. 26.
Led, carried ; " Has led the drum
before the English tragedians";
alluding to the strolling players
who were wont to announce
their advent by a drum ; IV.
iii. 282. (See Notes.)
Left off, abandoned ; I. iii. 246.
Leg; "make a leg," make a bow;
II. ii. 10.
Lend it, give love; I. ii. 69.
Lie, lodge ; III. v. 32.
Ling, a fish eaten during Lent ;
here used in the general sense
of meagre food ; III. ii. 14, 15.
Linsey-tvoolsey, literally a fabric of
wool and linen ; here a medley
of words ; IV. i. 1 3.
List, limit ; II. i. 53.
Live, to live; II. i. 134.
Livelihood, liveliness, animation;
I. i. 55.
'Longing (Folios correctly " long-
ing"), belonging; IV. ii. 42.
Lordship, conjugal right and duty;
V. iii. 156.
Lustig, lusty, sprightly ; II. iii. 42.
Madding, maddening; V. iii. 213.
Mate, look upon as; V. iii. 5.
Glossary
ALL'S WELL
Manifest, acknowledged, well-
known ; I. iii. 228.
Married ...marr'd; pronounced much
alike in Elizabethan English ;
hence used quibblingly; 1 1, iii. 304.
Marseilles (trisyllabic ; Folio 1 spells
the name " Marcella*," IV. iv.
9; "Marcellus," IV. v. 85).
Maudlin, colloquial form of Mag-
dalen ; V. iii. 68.
Measure, dance ; II. i. 58.
Medicine, physician ; II. i. 75.
Mell, meddle; IV. iii. 242.
Mere, merely, nothing but; III. v. 57.
Merely, absolutely; IV. iii. 23.
Methinks 't, it seems to me; II. iii. 259.
Mile-end; alluding to the fact that the
citizens of London used to be mus-
tered and drilled there; IV. iii. 286.
Misdoubt, mistrust; I. iii. 129.
Misprising, despising; III. ii. 33.
Misprision, contempt ; II. iii. 154.
Modern, common; II. iii. 2.
Modern ("modest" has been sug-
gested as an emendation), modish,
stylish (rather than "ordinary,"
"commonplace"); V. iii. 216.
Modest, " a m. one," i.e. " a moder-
ately favourable one " ; II. i. 131.
Module, pattern, model : IV. iii. 105.
Moiety, part, share; III. ii. 69.
Monstrous, monstrously; II. i. 187.
Monumental, memorial ; IV. iii. 18.
Morris, Morris-dance; II. ii. 24.
(See Naylor's Shakespeare and Music,
p. 205, and illustration at end of
Notes).
" Mort du vinaigre" (Folios " mor
du vinager"), a meaningless oath
used by Parolles ; II. iii. 45.
Motive, instrument; IV. iv. 20.
Murk, murky; II. i. 166.
Muse, wonder, conjecture ; II. v. 67.
Mute ; " all the rest is mute," I have
no more to say to you ; II. iii. 78.
Mystery, professional skill; III.vi.66.
Nature, temperament ; III. i. 17 ;
way ; IV. iii. 163.
Naughty, good for nothing; V. III. 25 2.
Necessitied to, in need of; V. iii. 85.
Next, nearest ; I. iii. 62.
Nice, prudish ; V. i. 15.
Note, mark of distinction, record ;
I. iii. 162.
Of, by ; I. iii. 202 ; V. iii. 196 ; on;
II. iii. 243 ; III. v. 102.
OJpctd all, performed all the duties
or offices ; III. ii. 129.
Of them, some of that kind ; II. v. 47.
"0 Lord, sir.'" An exclamation
much used in fashionable society
in Shakespeare's time; II. ii. 43.
On, of; I. iii. 141.
Order, precautions, measures ; IV.
ii. 55.
Ordinaries, meals, repasts; II. iii. 203.
Out, over ; I. ii. 59.
Outivard not in the secret, un-
initiated ; III. i. 11.
Overlooking, supervision ; I, i. 42.
Oive, own, II. v. 81 ; owes, owns,
II. i. 9; owed, owned, V. iii. 198.
Pace, " a certain and prescribed
walk " ; IV. v. 70.
Palmers, pilgrims ; III. v. 36.
From a jet figure of St. Jaques in the
Museum of Mr C. Roach Smith. The
saint is dressed as a pilgrim, with
staff, book and gourd-bottle.
THAT ENDS WELL
Glossary
Particular, part; II. v. 63.
Parting; "present p." immediate
departure ; II. v. 58.
Passage, anything that passes, or
occurs ; an event ; I. 1. 20.
Passport, sentence of death ; III. ii.
58.
Patience; "ours be your p." let
your patient hearing be ours ;
Epil. 336.
Perspective, " a glass so cut as to
produce an optical deception";
V. iii. 48.
Picking; "p. a kernel out of a
pomegranate " ; stealing the most
trifling article ; II. iii. 265.
Pilot's glass, hourglass; II. i. 168.
Place, precedence; I. i. no.
Plausive, plausible, pleasing ; I. ii
54-
Please it, if it please ; III. v. 99.
Prime, flower of lile ; II. i. 185.
Probable need, apparently neces-
sary ; II. iv. 50.
Proceeds, results ; IV. ii. 62.
Profession, that which she professes
to be able to do ; II. i. 86.
Proper, used to emphasize oivn ; IV.
ii. 49.
Proper, virtuous ; IV. iii. 225.
Property, " that which is proper
to," " particular quality " ; II. i.
190.
Quart cfecu (the Folios " cardecue,"
V. ii. 35 ; Folio 1, " cardceu,"
Folios 2, 3, 4, " cardecue," IV.
iii. 239 ; the Folio spellings
* represent the colloquial pro-
nunciation of the word in Eng-
lish); the quarter of a " French
crown " = fifteen pence.
From a specimen of the time of Charles IX. The large A beneath the shield
denotes that the coin was minted at Paris.
Plutus (Rowe's correction of " Pla-
tus," the reading of the Folios;,
the god of wealth ; V. iii. 101.
Poising us, adding the weight of our
patronage ; II. iii. 156.
Port, gate ; III. v. 37.
Practiser, practitioner; II. i. 188.
Predominant, in the ascendant ; I. i.
206.
Prejudicates, prejudices ; I. ii. 9.
Present, immediate; II. ii. 65.
Presently, immediately, at once ; II.
iii. 161.
Questant, he who is on the quest,
seeker; II. i. 16.
Quick, living; V. iii. 301.
Quit, acquit ; V. iii. 297.
Rate, price; V. iii. 217.
Ra-vin, ravenous; III. ii. 120.
Reave, bereave, deprive ; V. iii.
86.
Rebellion; "natural r." rebellion of
nature, V. iii. 6; "God delay
our r. ," i.e. "put offthe day when
our flesh shall rebel," IV. iii. 21.
Glossary
ALL 'S WELL
Religious, a holy obligation; lI.iii.1R5.
Remainder (a legal term) = something
limited over to a third person on
the creation of an estate less than
that which the grantor has ; IV.
iii. 297.
Removes, post-stages ; V. iii. 131.
Repairs, restores, does me good ; I.
ii. 31.
Repeal' d, called back ; II. iii. 50.
Repetition, remembrance; V. iii. 22.
Replete, full; II. iii. 1 78.
Resolvedly, satisfactorily ; V. iii. 329.
Respects, reasons ; II. v. 68.
Rest, " set up your r." are resolved ;
II. i. 138.
Richest ; " r. eyes," i,e. eyes having
seen the most ; V. iii. 17.
Ring-carrier, go-between, pandar ;
III. v. 94.
Rousillon, an old province of France,
separated from Spain by the Pyre-
nees ; I. ii. 19.
Ruff, (?) the ruffle of the boot (that
is, the part turned over the top);
III. ii. 7.
From a French print, dated 1603.
Rush, rush ring ; II. ii. 23.
From an engraving by Fairholt.
Ruttish, lustful ; IV. iii. 228.
Sacrament ; " take the s. on it," take
my oath on it; IV. iii. 146.
Sadness ; "in good s." in all serious-
ness ; IV. iii. 215.
Saffron ; " villanous s.," alluding to
the fashion of wearing yellow ;
IV. v. 2.
Sanctimony, sanctity; IV. iii. 53.
Satisfaction; "heavy s." sorrowful
acquiescence; V. iii. 100.
Scarfs and bannerets, silken orna-
ments hung upon various parts
of the attire; II. iii. 205.
Schools, medical schools ; I. iii. 245.
Season; "a day of s." a seasonable
day ; V. iii. 32.
Senoi/s, Sienese, inhabitants of Siena ;
i. ii. 1.
Sense, thought ; I. i. 235.
.5^0//= will assuredly ; III. ii. 24.
Shalloiu ; "you're shallow in great
friends," " you are a superficial
judge of the character of great
friends " ; I. iii. 44.
Skreivd, evil, bad ; III. v. 70.
Shrewdly, highly, badly ; III. v. 91.
Shrieve'sfool, sheriff's (female) fool ;
IV. iii. 199.
From an old Flemish picture of
drinking-party (1596).
THAT ENDS WELL
Glossary
Sick for, pining for; I. ii. 17.
Sinister, left ; II. i. 44.
Sith (Folio 1 reads " sir" ; emended
by Dyce), since ; V. iii. 155.
Sithence, since ; I. iii. 123.
Smock; " the forehorse to a smock,"
as a squire of ladies ; used con-
temptuously ; II. i. 30.
Smoked, scented ; III. vi. m.
Snipt-taffeta felloiv, a fellow dressed
in silks and ribbons ; IV. v. 1.
Solely, absolutely, altogether ; I. i.
108.
Solemn, ceremonious ; IV. iii. 82.
Sovereignty; "general s." "sover-
eign remedies in various cases " ;
I. iii. 229.
Spark, fashionable young man ; II.
i. 25.
Spend, use, employ ; V. i. 8.
Spirit (monosyllabic = sprite) ; II. i.
178.
Spoke, spoken ; II. v. 57.
Sportive, pleasure - giving ; III. ii.
109.
Sprat, a worthless fellow, used con-
temptuously ; III. vi. 109.
Staggers, " perplexity, bewilder-
ment " ; II. iii. 165.
St Jaques le Grand, probably St James
of Compostella, in Spain, though
probably Shakespeare had no
particular shrine of St James in
mind ; III. v. 36.
Stall, keep close, conceal ; I. iii.
130.
Star ; " the most received s." leader
of fashion ; II. i. 57.
Stead, help, aid; V. iii. 87.
Steely; "virtue's steely bones, " =
" steel - boned, unyielding, and
uncomplying virtue "; I. i. 115.
Stomach, inclination ; III. vi. 67.
Straight, directly, straightway; IV.
i. 21.
Strangers, foreign troops ; IV. i.
16.
Stronger, most important ; IV. iii.
59
Subscribed to, "acknowledged the
state of"; V. iii. 96.
Success, issue; III. vi. 83.
Success; "abstract of s." successful
summary proceeding ; IV. iii.
91-
Succession, others from doing the
same ; III. v. 24.
Suggest, tempt ; IV. v. 47.
Superfluous, having more than
enough ; I. i. 1 12.
Supposition, " beguile the s." de-
ceive the opinion ; set at rest the
doubt ; IV. iii. 315.
Surprised, to be surprised ; I. iii.
119.
Szvord ; " Spanish s." (swords of
Toledo were famous) ; IV. i.
52.
Sivorn counsel, pledge of secrecy ;
III. vii. 9.
Table, tablet ; I. i. 102.
Tax, reproach; II. i. 173.
Theoric, theory; IV. iii. 152.
Thitherivard, on his way thither ;
III. ii. 55.
Those of mine, those kinsmen of
mine ; I. iii. 258.
Tinct, tincture; V. iii. 102.
Title, want of rank ; II. iii. 119.
To, for ; II. iii. 296.
Toll (Folio 1 " toule"), probably =
" pay a tax for the liberty of
selling" ; V. iii. 148.
Too much, excess; III. ii. 92.
Took = taken ; II. i. 150.
Top, head ; I. ii. 44.
Travails in, works for ; II. iii. 160.
Triple, third ; II. i. 11 1.
Tucket, a flourish on the trumpet ;
III. v. 7.
Undone, used quibblingly ; IV. iii.
338.
Unhappy, mischievous ; IV. v. 66.
Unseasoned, inexperienced; I. i. 76.
Use, custom ; V. i. 24.
Used, treated ; I. ii. 43.
Glossary
ALL 'S WELL
Validity, value; V. iii. 192.
Waggon, carriage ; IV. iv. 34. See
illustration.
Wing: " of a good w." a term de-
rived from falconry = strong in
flight ; I. i. 213.
*%££?
From the Loutterel Psalter (XlVth Cent.)
II.
5-
Wanted, was lacking ; I. i
Ward, guardianship ; I. i
Was = had; III. ii. 46.
Wear, wear out ; V. i. 4.
Well-enter d, being well-initiated ;
II. i. 6.
Well found, of known skill ; II. i. 105.
Whence, from that place where ; III.
ii. 124.
Whereof, with which ; I. iii. 234.
Which, which thing (i.e. danger, re-
ferring to the previous clause);
II. iii. 152.
Whom, which (i.e. death J; III. iv. 17.
Woman, make me weak as a woman;
III. ii. 53.
Woodcock, a popular name for a
brainless fellow, a fool ; IV. i.
98.
Word, promise; i.e. thy word, or
promise ; II. i. 213.
World ; " to go to the world, "= to
get married ; I. iii. 19-20.
Worthy, well-deserved ; IV. iii. 6.
Write, call myself, claim to be ; II.
iii. 200.
Yield, supply, tell ; III. i. 10.
THAT ENDS WELL
Notes.
I. i. 87, 88.
' These great tears grace his remembrance more
Than those I shed /or him ; '
i.e. " the big and copious tears she then shed herself, which were caused
in reality by Bertram's departure, though attributed by Lafeu and the
Countess to the loss of her father; and from this misapprehension of
theirs graced his remembrance more than she actually shed for him."
I. i. 156. ' ten year . . . ten,'' Cambridge edition, based on Hanmer,
' ten years . . . ten'; First Folio, ' ten yeare . . . t-wo.'
I. i. 169-173. These lines are struck out by some editors ; the
Cambridge editors rightly call them 'a blot on the play'; they were
probably "an interpolation, 'to tickle the ears of the groundlings.'"
The opening words of the speech which follows are obscure, and the
enumeration of 'the loves' looks like 'the nonsense of some foolish
conceited player.' Hanmer's conjectural reading has been inserted in
the text between brackets. There is no stop after yet in the Folios.
I. ii. 47. 'praise he humbled' ; Staunton conjectures, ' praise be humbled' ;
Williams, 'praise the humbler.'
I. ii. 55. 'He scattered not in ears, but grafted them'; ep. the Collect
in the Liturgy : ' Grant, we beseech thee, Almighty God, that the words
which we have heard this day with our outward ears may through thy
grace be so grafted inwardly in our hearts, that they may bring forth the
fruit of good living,' etc.
I. ii. 57. 'this,' so the Folio; Pope read ' Thus' possibly the right
word here.
I. iii. 25. ' service is no heritage' ; the idea seems to be that, 'if service
is no blessing, children are ' ; Psalm cxxvii. 3 has been appropriately
cited in connection with this expression : — " Lo, children are an heritage
of the Lord."
I. iii. 55- Young Charbon the puritan and old Poysam the papist ; ' Charbon '
possibly for ' Chair-bonne,' and ' Poysam ' for ' Poisson,' alluding to the
respective lenten fares of the Puritan and Papist (cp. the old French
proverb, ' Jeune chair et viel poisson ' —young flesh and old fish are the
best).
Notes
ALL 'S WELL
I. iii. 1 1 8. '. . . queen of virgins' ; Theobald inserted 'Dian no ' before 'queen.'
I. iii. 168. ' I care no more for than I do for heaven ' ; Capell, ' I'd care no
more for '/,' etc.
I. iii. 175. 'loneliness'; Theobald's correction of Folios, ' loueliness.'
II. i. 1, 2. 'lords' . . 'lords'; probably the young noblemen are
divided into two sections according as they intend to take service with
the ' Florentines ' or the ' Senoys ' (cp. Note vi. Cambridge edition).
II. i. 12-15. ' let higher Italy, — Those bated' etc. ; the passage is probably
corrupt. 'Higher Italy' has been variously interpreted to mean (1)
Upper Italy ; (2) the side of Italy next to the Adriatic (but both
Florence and Sienna are on the other side ; (3) Italy higher in rank
and dignity than France ; (4) the noblest of Italy, the worthiest among
Italians. Johnson paraphrased as follows : — ' Let upper Italy, -where you
are to exercise your valour, see that you come to gain honour, to the abatement,
that is, to the disgrace and depression of those that have noiv lost their
ancient military fame, and inherit but the fall of the last monarchy.'
Schmidt proposed 'high' for 'higher'; Coleridge 'hired'; Hammer
1 bastards ' for ' bated.' Knight took ' bated ' to mean ' excepted,'
Schmidt 'beaten down.'
II. i. 32-3. ' No stuord ivorn but one to dance ivith ' ; alluding to the light
swords worn for dancing ; cp. the following drawing : —
II. i. 64. ' I'll fee' ; Theobald's emendation.
Folios, ' lie see.'
II. i. 80-I. ' To give great Charlemain a pen in's
hand'; Charlemagne attempted late in life to
learn to write.
II. i. 147. 'fts '; Folios ' shifts,' probably due to
misreading of fits, found in the margin of the
Ellesmere First Folio, independently suggested
by Theobald.
II. i. 176.
' ne worse 0/ worst extended.
With vilest torture let viy life be ended' ;
So Folio 1 ; the other Folios read ' no ' for ' ne.'
Malone's 'nay' for ' ne' commends itself, though
his explanation of ' extended' as ' my body being
extended on the rack ' seems weak : it is probably
used here simply in the sense of ' meted out to
me,' or merely used for the purpose of emphasising ' -worse of -worst.' A
mass of conjectural emendations are recorded in the Cambridge edition
of the play.
From an ornament on
pistol of Shakespeare's
time, in the Meyrick
collection.
THAT ENDS WELL Notes
II. ii. 23. 'Tib's rusk for Tom's forefinger ' ; 'Tib and Tom' were used
like ' Jack and Jill ' ; Tib was a cant term for any low or vulgar woman.
'Rush rings ' (see Glossary) were sometimes used at marriage ceremonies,
especially where the marriages were somewhat doubtful (cp. Douce's
Illustrations, p. 1 96).
II. iii. 1-41. Johnson changed the distribution of the speakers, so as to
bring out ' the whole merriment of the scene,' which, according to him,
' consists in the pretensions of Parolles to knowledge and sentiments
which he has not.' Johnson has been generally followed by modern
editors. The Folio arrangement has been kept in the Cambridge text.
II. iii. 23. ' a shoiving of a heavenly effect in an earthly actor' ; the title of
some pamphlet is evidently ridiculed in these words.
II. iii. 76. 'Imperial Love' ; Folio I, ' imperiall loue' ; Folio 2, 'imperial!
love'; Folio 3, ' impartiall Jove.'
II. iii. 80. ' ames-ace' i.e. two aces; the lowest throw at dice: one
would expect it, from the context, to mean just the contrary, but Lafeu
is probably making ' a comparison by contraries,' — ' an ironical com-
parison,' used with humorous effect. " One lauding a sweet-songed
prima donna," aptly observed Brinsley Nicholson, " says, I'd rather hear
her than walk a hundred miles with peas in my boots."
II. iii. 298. 'detested,' Rowe's emendation; Folios, 'detected.'
II. v. 28. 'end'; the Folios have 'And'; the correction, from the
Ellesmere copy of the First Folio, has been generally adopted.
II. v. 49. ' Have or ivill to deserve' ; Malone proposed ' have qualities or
■will,' etc.; Singer, ' tuit or ivill'; the later Folios omit ' to,' and read
' have, or ivill deserve' ; the reading in the text is that of Folio 1.
III. i. 12-13.
' That the great figure 0/ a council frames
By self-unable motion ' ;
probably Clarke's explanation of these difficult lines is the best : — " The
reasons of our state I cannot give you, excepting as an ordinary and
uninitiated man, whom the august body of a government-council creates
with power unable of itself to act, or with power incapable of acting of
its own accord or independently." Others make 'that' the subject of
'frames,' explaining ' motion ' as ' mental sight,' or ' intuition.'
III. ii. 9. ' sold' ; so Folios 3, 4 ; Folios 1,2,' hold' ; Harness proposed
' holds a goodly manner for.'
III. ii. 68. ' If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine' ; the omission of the
relative is common in Shakespeare. Rowe unnecessarily altered the line
to ' all the griefs as thine. '
Notes ALL 'S WELL
III. ii. 93. ' holds him much to have ' ; so the Folios ; Theobald conjectured
' soils him much to have ' ; others suggested ' 'hoves him not much to have ' ;
'/buls him much to have? etc. Rolfe's view of the passage seems by far
the most satisfactory: — "He has a deal of that too-much, i.e. excess
of vanity, which makes him fancy he has many good qualities."
III. ii. 113. 'still-peering air'; so Folio 1; Folio 2, ' still-piercing' ;
probably an error for 'still-piecing' i.e. 'still closing.' A passage in The
Wisdom of Solomon (v. 12) has been appropriately compared, and may be the
source of the thought : — " As -when an arrow is shot at a mark, it parteth the
air, which immediately cometh together again, so that a man cannot know ivhere it
ivent through."
III. v. 68. 1 1 write good creature,' so Folio I ; Folios 2, 3, 4, 'I right';
Rowe, 'Ah! right good creature!' The Globe edition, ' / warrant, good
creature'; Kinnear, 1 war ' nt ( = warrant), good creature' (cp. Hamlet, I. ii.
243, Quarto 2, 'I warn' t').
III. v. 90. " Lose our drum. Well!" The drums of Parolles' day were
decorated with the battalion colours. Hence to lose
the drum was equivalent to losing the flag of the
regiment.
III. vi. 39. ' John Drum's Entertainment' ; ' to give a
person John Drum's Entertainment' probably meant
to give him such an entertainment as the drum gets;
hence ' to give a person a drumming,' to turn him
forcibly out of your company. Theobald quotes the
following from Holinshed's Description of Ireland: — ■
From a woodcut by " His porter, or none other officer, durst not, for both
Hans Burgmair, ^^ • ^ simplest man that resorted to his
c. 1517. ' b r
house, Tom Drum his entertainment, which is to hale a
man in by the head, and thrust him out by both the shoulders." In
Marston's interlude. Jack Drum's Entertainment (1601), Jack Drum is a
servant who is constantly baffled in his knavish tricks.
IV. i. 47. ' Bajazet's mule' ; the allusion has not yet been explained ;
perhaps ' Bajazet's ' is a blunder on the part of Parolles for 'Balaam's '
IV. ii. 25. 'Jove's' probably substituted for the original God's, in
obedience to the statute against profanity. Johnson conjectured 'Love's.'
IV. ii. 36. 'Who then recover'; the Folios read 'who then recovers,'
changed unnecessarily by Pope to ' which then recover,' but ' who ' is often
used for 'an irrational antecedent personified,' though in this passage
the antecedent may be ' of me' implied in 'my'; 'my sick desires' = ' the
sick desires of me ' ; in this latter case 'recovers' is the more common
third person singular, instead of the first person after ' who. '
THAT ENDS WELL
Notes
IV. ii. 38. i I see that men male rope's in such a scarre,' the reading of
Folios 1,2; Folio 3, 'make ropes'; Folio 4, 'make ropes . . . scar.' This js
one of the standing cruxes in the text of Shakespeare ; some thirty emend-
ations have been proposed for ' ropes ' and ' scarre,' e.g. ' hopes . . . affairs ' ;
' hopes . . . scenes'; ' hopes . . . scare'; ' slopes . . . scarre'; other sug-
gestions are, ' may cope's . . . sorte ' ; ' may rope's . . . snarle ' ; ' may rope's
. , . snare,' etc. The apostrophe in the First and Second Folios makes
it almost certain that ' 's ' stands for ' us,' Possibly ' make' is used as an
auxiliary; ' make rope's' would then mean 'do constrain, or ensnare us.'
Or is ' make rope ' a compound verb ? ' Scarre ' may be ' scare ' (i.e. ' fright ').
The general sense seems to be, ' I see that men may reduce us to such a
fright, that we '11 forsake
ourselves.'
IV. iii. 202. ' His brains
are forfeit to the next tile that
falls' (See illustration).
IV. iii. 265. ' He -will
steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister
i.e. ' anything, however
trifling, from any place,
however holy.'
IV. iii. 282. '(he) has led
the drum before the English
tragedians' (See illustration
at end of Notes).
IV. iii. 297. ' and a per-
petual succession for it ' ; some
such verb as 'grant ' is to be
supplied. Hanmer altered From Whitney's Emblems (1586), in illustration of
'for it ' to ' in it ' ; Kinnear "a sto.ry °[.t{!ree(- T°meIY w^ 'hr™.dicec!°
J , ascertain which 01 them should nrst die. she
Conjectured 'free in per- who lost affected to laugh at the decrees of fate,
ietuitv ' when a tile suddenly Jailing, put an end to her
* •>' existence" (Douce).
IV. iv. 34. 'revives' ; so the
Folios; 'reviles,' 'invites,' 'requires' have been variously proposed; it
is doubtful whether any change is necessary : ' Time,' says Helena, ' gives
us fresh courage.'
IV. v. 41. ' an English name ' ; Folios 1,2,' maine ' ; Folio 3, ' main ' ;
Folio 4, ' mean ' ; Rowe first suggested ' name ' ; the allusion is obviously
to the Black Prince.
IV. v. 41. ' his fsnomy is more hotter' ; Hanmer's proposal ' honour' d' for
* hotter ' seems to be a most plausible emendation.
Notes ALL 'S WELL
V. i. 6. ' Enter a Gentleman''; Folio I reads ' A gentle Astringer ' ; Folio 2,
' A gentle As t ranger' ; Folios 3, 4, 'A Gentleman a stranger.' ' Astringer' ' =
a keeper of goshawks ; the word occurs nowhere else in Shakespeare.
There seems, however, no very particular reason for its omission in
modern editions, though it is true that in the Folio the speeches given to
' the Astringer' all have the prefix ' Gent.'
V. ii. 1. ' Good Monsieur Lavache ' ; Folio I, ' Lauatch ' ; Folio 2,
' Lavatch ' ; Folios 3, 4, < Levatch ' ; Toilet's conjecture ' La-vache ' has
been generally adopted. Clarke suggests that ' it may have been in-
tended for Lavage, which, in familiar French, is used to express ' slop,'
' puddle,' ' washiness.' Something is to be said in favour of Jervis'
proposed reading, ' Lapatch,' i.e. ' patch ' = clown, with the prefix ' la '
in imitation of ' Lafeu.'
V. ii. 26. 'Similes of comfort' ; Theobald's certain emendation for the
reading of the Folios, ' smiles of comfort.'
V. iii. 65, 66.
' Our own love waking cries to see what 's done,
While shame/ul hate sleeps tut t/ie afternoon'
Johnson conjectured ' slept' for 'sleeps,' i.e. 'love cries to see what was
done while hatred slept, and suffered mischief to be done.' Mason pro-
posed ' old' for ' oiun.' W. G. Clarke ingeniously emended 'shameful
hate' into ' shame full late,' but the emendation destroys the antithesis
between 'love' and 'hate.' It is best to leave the lines as they stand,
though the words 'our own love' are somewhat doubtful: the general
meaning is simple enough.
V. iii. 121. ' my fore-past proofs,' etc.; i.e. "the proofs which I have
already had are sufficient to show that my fears were not vain and
irrational. I have rather been hitherto more easy than sought, and have
unreasonably had too little fear" (Johnson).
V. iii. 195. ''tis hit,' the reading of the Folios, which has been
variously explained as an archaic form of ' it,' or as an error
for ' 'tis his,' or ' is hit.' Cambridge edition, ' 'tis it,' but it seems
unnecessary to make any change; ''tis hit' can very well mean
'the blow has been well aimed, it has struck home,' 'it' being used
impersonally.
V. iii. 216. ' Her infinite cunning, ivith her modern grace,' Walker's certain
emendation of the Folio ' her insuite camming'; other suggestions have
been made: — ' Her instant comity ' (Bubier) ; ' Her Jesuit cunning' (Bulloch) ;
' Her oivn suit, coming ' (Perring).
Epil. 332. ' The King's a beggar' ; an allusion to the old story of ' The
THAT ENDS WELL
Notes
King and the Beggar' (cj>. Percy's ReHques), often referred to by Shake-
speare ; cb. ' Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the Beggar ' ? (Love's
Labour's Lost, I. ii. 114); similarly Richard II. , V. iii. 80: —
1 Our scene is alter d from a serious thing,
And now chang'd to " The Beggar and the King."
" He has led the dru7n be/ore the English tragedians " (IV. iii. 282).
From Kemp's Nine Dales Wonder (1600). The figures represent that actor,
as a morris dancer, and his taborer, Thomas Slye.
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