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A Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== Four lovers: HERMIA LYSANDER HELENA DEMETRIUS THESEUS, duke of Athens HIPPOLYTA, queen of the Amazons EGEUS, father to Hermia PHILOSTRATE, master of the revels to Theseus NICK BOTTOM, weaver PETER QUINCE, carpenter FRANCIS FLUTE, bellows-mender TOM SNOUT, tinker SNUG, joiner ROBIN STARVELING, tailor OBERON, king of the Fairies TITANIA, queen of the Fairies ROBIN GOODFELLOW, a "puck," or hobgoblin, in Oberon's service A FAIRY, in the service of Titania Fairies attending upon Titania: PEASEBLOSSOM COBWEB MOTE MUSTARDSEED Lords and Attendants on Theseus and Hippolyta Other Fairies in the trains of Titania and Oberon ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, and Philostrate, with others.] THESEUS Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour Draws on apace. Four happy days bring in Another moon. But, O, methinks how slow This old moon wanes! She lingers my desires Like to a stepdame or a dowager Long withering out a young man's revenue. HIPPOLYTA Four days will quickly steep themselves in night; Four nights will quickly dream away the time; And then the moon, like to a silver bow New-bent in heaven, shall behold the night Of our solemnities. THESEUS Go, Philostrate, Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments. Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth. Turn melancholy forth to funerals; The pale companion is not for our pomp. [Philostrate exits.] Hippolyta, I wooed thee with my sword And won thy love doing thee injuries, But I will wed thee in another key, With pomp, with triumph, and with reveling. [Enter Egeus and his daughter Hermia, and Lysander and Demetrius.] EGEUS Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke! THESEUS Thanks, good Egeus. What's the news with thee? EGEUS Full of vexation come I, with complaint Against my child, my daughter Hermia.-- Stand forth, Demetrius.--My noble lord, This man hath my consent to marry her.-- Stand forth, Lysander.--And, my gracious duke, This man hath bewitched the bosom of my child.-- Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes And interchanged love tokens with my child. Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung With feigning voice verses of feigning love And stol'n the impression of her fantasy With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gauds, conceits, Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats--messengers Of strong prevailment in unhardened youth. With cunning hast thou filched my daughter's heart, Turned her obedience (which is due to me) To stubborn harshness.--And, my gracious duke, Be it so she will not here before your Grace Consent to marry with Demetrius, I beg the ancient privilege of Athens: As she is mine, I may dispose of her, Which shall be either to this gentleman Or to her death, according to our law Immediately provided in that case. THESEUS What say you, Hermia? Be advised, fair maid. To you, your father should be as a god, One that composed your beauties, yea, and one To whom you are but as a form in wax By him imprinted, and within his power To leave the figure or disfigure it. Demetrius is a worthy gentleman. HERMIA So is Lysander. THESEUS In himself he is, But in this kind, wanting your father's voice, The other must be held the worthier. HERMIA I would my father looked but with my eyes. THESEUS Rather your eyes must with his judgment look. HERMIA I do entreat your Grace to pardon me. I know not by what power I am made bold, Nor how it may concern my modesty In such a presence here to plead my thoughts; But I beseech your Grace that I may know The worst that may befall me in this case If I refuse to wed Demetrius. THESEUS Either to die the death or to abjure Forever the society of men. Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires, Know of your youth, examine well your blood, Whether (if you yield not to your father's choice) You can endure the livery of a nun, For aye to be in shady cloister mewed, To live a barren sister all your life, Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon. Thrice-blessed they that master so their blood To undergo such maiden pilgrimage, But earthlier happy is the rose distilled Than that which, withering on the virgin thorn, Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness. HERMIA So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord, Ere I will yield my virgin patent up Unto his Lordship whose unwished yoke My soul consents not to give sovereignty. THESEUS Take time to pause, and by the next new moon (The sealing day betwixt my love and me For everlasting bond of fellowship), Upon that day either prepare to die For disobedience to your father's will, Or else to wed Demetrius, as he would, Or on Diana's altar to protest For aye austerity and single life. DEMETRIUS Relent, sweet Hermia, and, Lysander, yield Thy crazed title to my certain right. LYSANDER You have her father's love, Demetrius. Let me have Hermia's. Do you marry him. EGEUS Scornful Lysander, true, he hath my love; And what is mine my love shall render him. And she is mine, and all my right of her I do estate unto Demetrius. LYSANDER, [to Theseus] I am, my lord, as well derived as he, As well possessed. My love is more than his; My fortunes every way as fairly ranked (If not with vantage) as Demetrius'; And (which is more than all these boasts can be) I am beloved of beauteous Hermia. Why should not I then prosecute my right? Demetrius, I'll avouch it to his head, Made love to Nedar's daughter, Helena, And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes, Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry, Upon this spotted and inconstant man. THESEUS I must confess that I have heard so much, And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof; But, being overfull of self-affairs, My mind did lose it.--But, Demetrius, come, And come, Egeus; you shall go with me. I have some private schooling for you both.-- For you, fair Hermia, look you arm yourself To fit your fancies to your father's will, Or else the law of Athens yields you up (Which by no means we may extenuate) To death or to a vow of single life.-- Come, my Hippolyta. What cheer, my love?-- Demetrius and Egeus, go along. I must employ you in some business Against our nuptial and confer with you Of something nearly that concerns yourselves. EGEUS With duty and desire we follow you. [All but Hermia and Lysander exit.] LYSANDER How now, my love? Why is your cheek so pale? How chance the roses there do fade so fast? HERMIA Belike for want of rain, which I could well Beteem them from the tempest of my eyes. LYSANDER Ay me! For aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth. But either it was different in blood-- HERMIA O cross! Too high to be enthralled to low. LYSANDER Or else misgraffed in respect of years-- HERMIA O spite! Too old to be engaged to young. LYSANDER Or else it stood upon the choice of friends-- HERMIA O hell, to choose love by another's eyes! LYSANDER Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it, Making it momentany as a sound, Swift as a shadow, short as any dream, Brief as the lightning in the collied night, That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and Earth, And, ere a man hath power to say "Behold!" The jaws of darkness do devour it up. So quick bright things come to confusion. HERMIA If then true lovers have been ever crossed, It stands as an edict in destiny. Then let us teach our trial patience Because it is a customary cross, As due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs, Wishes and tears, poor fancy's followers. LYSANDER A good persuasion. Therefore, hear me, Hermia: I have a widow aunt, a dowager Of great revenue, and she hath no child. From Athens is her house remote seven leagues, And she respects me as her only son. There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee; And to that place the sharp Athenian law Cannot pursue us. If thou lovest me, then Steal forth thy father's house tomorrow night, And in the wood a league without the town (Where I did meet thee once with Helena To do observance to a morn of May), There will I stay for thee. HERMIA My good Lysander, I swear to thee by Cupid's strongest bow, By his best arrow with the golden head, By the simplicity of Venus' doves, By that which knitteth souls and prospers loves, And by that fire which burned the Carthage queen When the false Trojan under sail was seen, By all the vows that ever men have broke (In number more than ever women spoke), In that same place thou hast appointed me, Tomorrow truly will I meet with thee. LYSANDER Keep promise, love. Look, here comes Helena. [Enter Helena.] HERMIA Godspeed, fair Helena. Whither away? HELENA Call you me "fair"? That "fair" again unsay. Demetrius loves your fair. O happy fair! Your eyes are lodestars and your tongue's sweet air More tunable than lark to shepherd's ear When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear. Sickness is catching. O, were favor so! Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go. My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye; My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody. Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated, The rest I'd give to be to you translated. O, teach me how you look and with what art You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart! HERMIA I frown upon him, yet he loves me still. HELENA O, that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill! HERMIA I give him curses, yet he gives me love. HELENA O, that my prayers could such affection move! HERMIA The more I hate, the more he follows me. HELENA The more I love, the more he hateth me. HERMIA His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine. HELENA None but your beauty. Would that fault were mine! HERMIA Take comfort: he no more shall see my face. Lysander and myself will fly this place. Before the time I did Lysander see Seemed Athens as a paradise to me. O, then, what graces in my love do dwell That he hath turned a heaven unto a hell! LYSANDER Helen, to you our minds we will unfold. Tomorrow night when Phoebe doth behold Her silver visage in the wat'ry glass, Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass (A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal), Through Athens' gates have we devised to steal. HERMIA And in the wood where often you and I Upon faint primrose beds were wont to lie, Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet, There my Lysander and myself shall meet And thence from Athens turn away our eyes To seek new friends and stranger companies. Farewell, sweet playfellow. Pray thou for us, And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius.-- Keep word, Lysander. We must starve our sight From lovers' food till morrow deep midnight. LYSANDER I will, my Hermia. [Hermia exits.] Helena, adieu. As you on him, Demetrius dote on you! [Lysander exits.] HELENA How happy some o'er other some can be! Through Athens I am thought as fair as she. But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so. He will not know what all but he do know. And, as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes, So I, admiring of his qualities. Things base and vile, holding no quantity, Love can transpose to form and dignity. Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind; And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste. Wings, and no eyes, figure unheedy haste. And therefore is Love said to be a child Because in choice he is so oft beguiled. As waggish boys in game themselves forswear, So the boy Love is perjured everywhere. For, ere Demetrius looked on Hermia's eyne, He hailed down oaths that he was only mine; And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt, So he dissolved, and show'rs of oaths did melt. I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight. Then to the wood will he tomorrow night Pursue her. And, for this intelligence If I have thanks, it is a dear expense. But herein mean I to enrich my pain, To have his sight thither and back again. [She exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Quince the carpenter, and Snug the joiner, and Bottom the weaver, and Flute the bellows-mender, and Snout the tinker, and Starveling the tailor.] QUINCE Is all our company here? BOTTOM You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip. QUINCE Here is the scroll of every man's name which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the Duke and the Duchess on his wedding day at night. BOTTOM First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on, then read the names of the actors, and so grow to a point. QUINCE Marry, our play is "The most lamentable comedy and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisbe." BOTTOM A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry. Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll. Masters, spread yourselves. QUINCE Answer as I call you. Nick Bottom, the weaver. BOTTOM Ready. Name what part I am for, and proceed. QUINCE You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus. BOTTOM What is Pyramus--a lover or a tyrant? QUINCE A lover that kills himself most gallant for love. BOTTOM That will ask some tears in the true performing of it. If I do it, let the audience look to their eyes. I will move storms; I will condole in some measure. To the rest.--Yet my chief humor is for a tyrant. I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in, to make all split: The raging rocks And shivering shocks Shall break the locks Of prison gates. And Phibbus' car Shall shine from far And make and mar The foolish Fates. This was lofty. Now name the rest of the players. This is Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein. A lover is more condoling. QUINCE Francis Flute, the bellows-mender. FLUTE Here, Peter Quince. QUINCE Flute, you must take Thisbe on you. FLUTE What is Thisbe--a wand'ring knight? QUINCE It is the lady that Pyramus must love. FLUTE Nay, faith, let not me play a woman. I have a beard coming. QUINCE That's all one. You shall play it in a mask, and you may speak as small as you will. BOTTOM An I may hide my face, let me play Thisbe too. I'll speak in a monstrous little voice: "Thisne, Thisne!"--"Ah Pyramus, my lover dear! Thy Thisbe dear and lady dear!" QUINCE No, no, you must play Pyramus--and, Flute, you Thisbe. BOTTOM Well, proceed. QUINCE Robin Starveling, the tailor. STARVELING Here, Peter Quince. QUINCE Robin Starveling, you must play Thisbe's mother.--Tom Snout, the tinker. SNOUT Here, Peter Quince. QUINCE You, Pyramus' father.--Myself, Thisbe's father.--Snug the joiner, you the lion's part.-- And I hope here is a play fitted. SNUG Have you the lion's part written? Pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study. QUINCE You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring. BOTTOM Let me play the lion too. I will roar that I will do any man's heart good to hear me. I will roar that I will make the Duke say "Let him roar again. Let him roar again!" QUINCE An you should do it too terribly, you would fright the Duchess and the ladies that they would shriek, and that were enough to hang us all. ALL That would hang us, every mother's son. BOTTOM I grant you, friends, if you should fright the ladies out of their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us. But I will aggravate my voice so that I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove. I will roar you an 'twere any nightingale. QUINCE You can play no part but Pyramus, for Pyramus is a sweet-faced man, a proper man as one shall see in a summer's day, a most lovely gentlemanlike man. Therefore you must needs play Pyramus. BOTTOM Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I best to play it in? QUINCE Why, what you will. BOTTOM I will discharge it in either your straw-color beard, your orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your French-crown-color beard, your perfit yellow. QUINCE Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and then you will play barefaced. But, masters, here are your parts, [giving out the parts,] and I am to entreat you, request you, and desire you to con them by tomorrow night and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without the town, by moonlight. There will we rehearse, for if we meet in the city, we shall be dogged with company and our devices known. In the meantime I will draw a bill of properties such as our play wants. I pray you fail me not. BOTTOM We will meet, and there we may rehearse most obscenely and courageously. Take pains. Be perfit. Adieu. QUINCE At the Duke's Oak we meet. BOTTOM Enough. Hold or cut bowstrings. [They exit.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter a Fairy at one door and Robin Goodfellow at another.] ROBIN How now, spirit? Whither wander you? FAIRY Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire; I do wander everywhere, Swifter than the moon's sphere. And I serve the Fairy Queen, To dew her orbs upon the green. The cowslips tall her pensioners be; In their gold coats spots you see; Those be rubies, fairy favors; In those freckles live their savors. I must go seek some dewdrops here And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear. Farewell, thou lob of spirits. I'll be gone. Our queen and all her elves come here anon. ROBIN The King doth keep his revels here tonight. Take heed the Queen come not within his sight, For Oberon is passing fell and wrath Because that she, as her attendant, hath A lovely boy stolen from an Indian king; She never had so sweet a changeling. And jealous Oberon would have the child Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild. But she perforce withholds the loved boy, Crowns him with flowers and makes him all her joy. And now they never meet in grove or green, By fountain clear or spangled starlight sheen, But they do square, that all their elves for fear Creep into acorn cups and hide them there. FAIRY Either I mistake your shape and making quite, Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite Called Robin Goodfellow. Are not you he That frights the maidens of the villagery, Skim milk, and sometimes labor in the quern And bootless make the breathless huswife churn, And sometime make the drink to bear no barm, Mislead night wanderers, laughing at their harm? Those that "Hobgoblin" call you and "sweet Puck," You do their work, and they shall have good luck. Are not you he? ROBIN Thou speakest aright. I am that merry wanderer of the night. I jest to Oberon and make him smile When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile, Neighing in likeness of a filly foal. And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl In very likeness of a roasted crab, And, when she drinks, against her lips I bob And on her withered dewlap pour the ale. The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale, Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me; Then slip I from her bum, down topples she And "Tailor!" cries and falls into a cough, And then the whole choir hold their hips and loffe And waxen in their mirth and neeze and swear A merrier hour was never wasted there. But room, fairy. Here comes Oberon. FAIRY And here my mistress. Would that he were gone! [Enter Oberon the King of Fairies at one door, with his train, and Titania the Queen at another, with hers.] OBERON Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania. TITANIA What, jealous Oberon? Fairies, skip hence. I have forsworn his bed and company. OBERON Tarry, rash wanton. Am not I thy lord? TITANIA Then I must be thy lady. But I know When thou hast stolen away from Fairyland And in the shape of Corin sat all day Playing on pipes of corn and versing love To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here, Come from the farthest steep of India, But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon, Your buskined mistress and your warrior love, To Theseus must be wedded, and you come To give their bed joy and prosperity? OBERON How canst thou thus for shame, Titania, Glance at my credit with Hippolyta, Knowing I know thy love to Theseus? Didst not thou lead him through the glimmering night From Perigouna, whom he ravished, And make him with fair Aegles break his faith, With Ariadne and Antiopa? TITANIA These are the forgeries of jealousy; And never, since the middle summer's spring, Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead, By paved fountain or by rushy brook, Or in the beached margent of the sea, To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind, But with thy brawls thou hast disturbed our sport. Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain, As in revenge have sucked up from the sea Contagious fogs, which, falling in the land, Hath every pelting river made so proud That they have overborne their continents. The ox hath therefore stretched his yoke in vain, The plowman lost his sweat, and the green corn Hath rotted ere his youth attained a beard. The fold stands empty in the drowned field, And crows are fatted with the murrain flock. The nine-men's-morris is filled up with mud, And the quaint mazes in the wanton green, For lack of tread, are undistinguishable. The human mortals want their winter here. No night is now with hymn or carol blessed. Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, Pale in her anger, washes all the air, That rheumatic diseases do abound. And thorough this distemperature we see The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose, And on old Hiems' thin and icy crown An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds Is, as in mockery, set. The spring, the summer, The childing autumn, angry winter, change Their wonted liveries, and the mazed world By their increase now knows not which is which. And this same progeny of evils comes From our debate, from our dissension; We are their parents and original. OBERON Do you amend it, then. It lies in you. Why should Titania cross her Oberon? I do but beg a little changeling boy To be my henchman. TITANIA Set your heart at rest: The Fairyland buys not the child of me. His mother was a vot'ress of my order, And in the spiced Indian air by night Full often hath she gossiped by my side And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands, Marking th' embarked traders on the flood, When we have laughed to see the sails conceive And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind; Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait, Following (her womb then rich with my young squire), Would imitate and sail upon the land To fetch me trifles and return again, As from a voyage, rich with merchandise. But she, being mortal, of that boy did die, And for her sake do I rear up her boy, And for her sake I will not part with him. OBERON How long within this wood intend you stay? TITANIA Perchance till after Theseus' wedding day. If you will patiently dance in our round And see our moonlight revels, go with us. If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts. OBERON Give me that boy and I will go with thee. TITANIA Not for thy fairy kingdom. Fairies, away. We shall chide downright if I longer stay. [Titania and her fairies exit.] OBERON Well, go thy way. Thou shalt not from this grove Till I torment thee for this injury.-- My gentle Puck, come hither. Thou rememb'rest Since once I sat upon a promontory And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath That the rude sea grew civil at her song And certain stars shot madly from their spheres To hear the sea-maid's music. ROBIN I remember. OBERON That very time I saw (but thou couldst not), Flying between the cold moon and the Earth, Cupid all armed. A certain aim he took At a fair vestal throned by the west, And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts. But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft Quenched in the chaste beams of the wat'ry moon, And the imperial vot'ress passed on In maiden meditation, fancy-free. Yet marked I where the bolt of Cupid fell. It fell upon a little western flower, Before, milk-white, now purple with love's wound, And maidens call it "love-in-idleness." Fetch me that flower; the herb I showed thee once. The juice of it on sleeping eyelids laid Will make or man or woman madly dote Upon the next live creature that it sees. Fetch me this herb, and be thou here again Ere the leviathan can swim a league. ROBIN I'll put a girdle round about the Earth In forty minutes. [He exits.] OBERON Having once this juice, I'll watch Titania when she is asleep And drop the liquor of it in her eyes. The next thing then she, waking, looks upon (Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull, On meddling monkey, or on busy ape) She shall pursue it with the soul of love. And ere I take this charm from off her sight (As I can take it with another herb), I'll make her render up her page to me. But who comes here? I am invisible, And I will overhear their conference. [Enter Demetrius, Helena following him.] DEMETRIUS I love thee not; therefore pursue me not. Where is Lysander and fair Hermia? The one I'll stay; the other stayeth me. Thou told'st me they were stol'n unto this wood, And here am I, and wood within this wood Because I cannot meet my Hermia. Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more. HELENA You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant! But yet you draw not iron, for my heart Is true as steel. Leave you your power to draw, And I shall have no power to follow you. DEMETRIUS Do I entice you? Do I speak you fair? Or rather do I not in plainest truth Tell you I do not, nor I cannot love you? HELENA And even for that do I love you the more. I am your spaniel, and, Demetrius, The more you beat me I will fawn on you. Use me but as your spaniel: spurn me, strike me, Neglect me, lose me; only give me leave (Unworthy as I am) to follow you. What worser place can I beg in your love (And yet a place of high respect with me) Than to be used as you use your dog? DEMETRIUS Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit, For I am sick when I do look on thee. HELENA And I am sick when I look not on you. DEMETRIUS You do impeach your modesty too much To leave the city and commit yourself Into the hands of one that loves you not, To trust the opportunity of night And the ill counsel of a desert place With the rich worth of your virginity. HELENA Your virtue is my privilege. For that It is not night when I do see your face, Therefore I think I am not in the night. Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company, For you, in my respect, are all the world. Then, how can it be said I am alone When all the world is here to look on me? DEMETRIUS I'll run from thee and hide me in the brakes And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts. HELENA The wildest hath not such a heart as you. Run when you will. The story shall be changed: Apollo flies and Daphne holds the chase; The dove pursues the griffin; the mild hind Makes speed to catch the tiger. Bootless speed When cowardice pursues and valor flies! DEMETRIUS I will not stay thy questions. Let me go, Or if thou follow me, do not believe But I shall do thee mischief in the wood. HELENA Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field, You do me mischief. Fie, Demetrius! Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex. We cannot fight for love as men may do. We should be wooed and were not made to woo. [Demetrius exits.] I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell To die upon the hand I love so well. [Helena exits.] OBERON Fare thee well, nymph. Ere he do leave this grove, Thou shalt fly him, and he shall seek thy love. [Enter Robin.] Hast thou the flower there? Welcome, wanderer. ROBIN Ay, there it is. OBERON I pray thee give it me. [Robin gives him the flower.] I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite overcanopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet muskroses, and with eglantine. There sleeps Titania sometime of the night, Lulled in these flowers with dances and delight. And there the snake throws her enameled skin, Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in. And with the juice of this I'll streak her eyes And make her full of hateful fantasies. Take thou some of it, and seek through this grove. [He gives Robin part of the flower.] A sweet Athenian lady is in love With a disdainful youth. Anoint his eyes, But do it when the next thing he espies May be the lady. Thou shalt know the man By the Athenian garments he hath on. Effect it with some care, that he may prove More fond on her than she upon her love. And look thou meet me ere the first cock crow. ROBIN Fear not, my lord. Your servant shall do so. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Titania, Queen of Fairies, with her train.] TITANIA Come, now a roundel and a fairy song; Then, for the third part of a minute, hence-- Some to kill cankers in the muskrose buds, Some war with reremice for their leathern wings To make my small elves coats, and some keep back The clamorous owl that nightly hoots and wonders At our quaint spirits. Sing me now asleep. Then to your offices and let me rest. [She lies down.] [Fairies sing.] FIRST FAIRY You spotted snakes with double tongue, Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen. Newts and blindworms, do no wrong, Come not near our Fairy Queen. CHORUS Philomel, with melody Sing in our sweet lullaby. Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby. Never harm Nor spell nor charm Come our lovely lady nigh. So good night, with lullaby. FIRST FAIRY Weaving spiders, come not here. Hence, you long-legged spinners, hence. Beetles black, approach not near. Worm nor snail, do no offence. CHORUS Philomel, with melody Sing in our sweet lullaby. Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby. Never harm Nor spell nor charm Come our lovely lady nigh. So good night, with lullaby. [Titania sleeps.] SECOND FAIRY Hence, away! Now all is well. One aloof stand sentinel. [ Fairies exit.] [Enter Oberon, who anoints Titania's eyelids with the nectar.] OBERON What thou seest when thou dost wake Do it for thy true love take. Love and languish for his sake. Be it ounce, or cat, or bear, Pard, or boar with bristled hair, In thy eye that shall appear When thou wak'st, it is thy dear. Wake when some vile thing is near. [He exits.] [Enter Lysander and Hermia.] LYSANDER Fair love, you faint with wand'ring in the wood. And, to speak troth, I have forgot our way. We'll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good, And tarry for the comfort of the day. HERMIA Be it so, Lysander. Find you out a bed, For I upon this bank will rest my head. LYSANDER One turf shall serve as pillow for us both; One heart, one bed, two bosoms, and one troth. HERMIA Nay, good Lysander. For my sake, my dear, Lie further off yet. Do not lie so near. LYSANDER O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence! Love takes the meaning in love's conference. I mean that my heart unto yours is knit, So that but one heart we can make of it; Two bosoms interchained with an oath-- So then two bosoms and a single troth. Then by your side no bed-room me deny, For lying so, Hermia, I do not lie. HERMIA Lysander riddles very prettily. Now much beshrew my manners and my pride If Hermia meant to say Lysander lied. But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy, Lie further off in human modesty. Such separation, as may well be said, Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid. So far be distant; and good night, sweet friend. Thy love ne'er alter till thy sweet life end! LYSANDER "Amen, amen" to that fair prayer, say I, And then end life when I end loyalty! Here is my bed. Sleep give thee all his rest! HERMIA With half that wish the wisher's eyes be pressed! [They sleep.] [Enter Robin.] ROBIN Through the forest have I gone, But Athenian found I none On whose eyes I might approve This flower's force in stirring love. [He sees Lysander.] Night and silence! Who is here? Weeds of Athens he doth wear. This is he my master said Despised the Athenian maid. And here the maiden, sleeping sound On the dank and dirty ground. Pretty soul, she durst not lie Near this lack-love, this kill-courtesy.-- Churl, upon thy eyes I throw All the power this charm doth owe. [He anoints Lysander's eyelids with the nectar.] When thou wak'st, let love forbid Sleep his seat on thy eyelid. So, awake when I am gone, For I must now to Oberon. [He exits.] [Enter Demetrius and Helena, running.] HELENA Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius. DEMETRIUS I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus. HELENA O, wilt thou darkling leave me? Do not so. DEMETRIUS Stay, on thy peril. I alone will go. [Demetrius exits.] HELENA O, I am out of breath in this fond chase. The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace. Happy is Hermia, wheresoe'er she lies, For she hath blessed and attractive eyes. How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears. If so, my eyes are oftener washed than hers. No, no, I am as ugly as a bear, For beasts that meet me run away for fear. Therefore no marvel though Demetrius Do as a monster fly my presence thus. What wicked and dissembling glass of mine Made me compare with Hermia's sphery eyne? But who is here? Lysander, on the ground! Dead or asleep? I see no blood, no wound.-- Lysander, if you live, good sir, awake. LYSANDER, [waking up] And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake. Transparent Helena! Nature shows art, That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart. Where is Demetrius? O, how fit a word Is that vile name to perish on my sword! HELENA Do not say so. Lysander, say not so. What though he love your Hermia? Lord, what though? Yet Hermia still loves you. Then be content. LYSANDER Content with Hermia? No, I do repent The tedious minutes I with her have spent. Not Hermia, but Helena I love. Who will not change a raven for a dove? The will of man is by his reason swayed, And reason says you are the worthier maid. Things growing are not ripe until their season; So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason. And touching now the point of human skill, Reason becomes the marshal to my will And leads me to your eyes, where I o'erlook Love's stories written in love's richest book. HELENA Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? When at your hands did I deserve this scorn? Is 't not enough, is 't not enough, young man, That I did never, no, nor never can Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye, But you must flout my insufficiency? Good troth, you do me wrong, good sooth, you do, In such disdainful manner me to woo. But fare you well. Perforce I must confess I thought you lord of more true gentleness. O, that a lady of one man refused Should of another therefore be abused! [She exits.] LYSANDER She sees not Hermia.--Hermia, sleep thou there, And never mayst thou come Lysander near. For, as a surfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomach brings, Or as the heresies that men do leave Are hated most of those they did deceive, So thou, my surfeit and my heresy, Of all be hated, but the most of me! And, all my powers, address your love and might To honor Helen and to be her knight. [He exits.] HERMIA, [waking up] Help me, Lysander, help me! Do thy best To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast. Ay me, for pity! What a dream was here! Lysander, look how I do quake with fear. Methought a serpent ate my heart away, And you sat smiling at his cruel prey. Lysander! What, removed? Lysander, lord! What, out of hearing? Gone? No sound, no word? Alack, where are you? Speak, an if you hear. Speak, of all loves! I swoon almost with fear.-- No? Then I well perceive you are not nigh. Either death or you I'll find immediately. [She exits.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [With Titania still asleep onstage, enter the Clowns, Bottom, Quince, Snout, Starveling, Snug, and Flute.] BOTTOM Are we all met? QUINCE Pat, pat. And here's a marvels convenient place for our rehearsal. This green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn brake our tiring-house, and we will do it in action as we will do it before the Duke. BOTTOM Peter Quince? QUINCE What sayest thou, bully Bottom? BOTTOM There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisbe that will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill himself, which the ladies cannot abide. How answer you that? SNOUT By 'r lakin, a parlous fear. STARVELING I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is done. BOTTOM Not a whit! I have a device to make all well. Write me a prologue, and let the prologue seem to say we will do no harm with our swords and that Pyramus is not killed indeed. And, for the more better assurance, tell them that I, Pyramus, am not Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver. This will put them out of fear. QUINCE Well, we will have such a prologue, and it shall be written in eight and six. BOTTOM No, make it two more. Let it be written in eight and eight. SNOUT Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion? STARVELING I fear it, I promise you. BOTTOM Masters, you ought to consider with yourself, to bring in (God shield us!) a lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing. For there is not a more fearful wildfowl than your lion living, and we ought to look to 't. SNOUT Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion. BOTTOM Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must be seen through the lion's neck, and he himself must speak through, saying thus, or to the same defect: "Ladies," or "Fair ladies, I would wish you," or "I would request you," or "I would entreat you not to fear, not to tremble! My life for yours. If you think I come hither as a lion, it were pity of my life. No, I am no such thing. I am a man as other men are." And there indeed let him name his name and tell them plainly he is Snug the joiner. QUINCE Well, it shall be so. But there is two hard things: that is, to bring the moonlight into a chamber, for you know Pyramus and Thisbe meet by moonlight. SNOUT Doth the moon shine that night we play our play? BOTTOM A calendar, a calendar! Look in the almanac. Find out moonshine, find out moonshine. [Quince takes out a book.] QUINCE Yes, it doth shine that night. BOTTOM Why, then, may you leave a casement of the great chamber window, where we play, open, and the moon may shine in at the casement. QUINCE Ay, or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lantern and say he comes to disfigure or to present the person of Moonshine. Then there is another thing: we must have a wall in the great chamber, for Pyramus and Thisbe, says the story, did talk through the chink of a wall. SNOUT You can never bring in a wall. What say you, Bottom? BOTTOM Some man or other must present Wall. And let him have some plaster, or some loam, or some roughcast about him to signify wall, or let him hold his fingers thus, and through that cranny shall Pyramus and Thisbe whisper. QUINCE If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit down, every mother's son, and rehearse your parts. Pyramus, you begin. When you have spoken your speech, enter into that brake, and so everyone according to his cue. [Enter Robin invisible to those onstage.] ROBIN, [aside] What hempen homespuns have we swagg'ring here So near the cradle of the Fairy Queen? What, a play toward? I'll be an auditor-- An actor too perhaps, if I see cause. QUINCE Speak, Pyramus.--Thisbe, stand forth. BOTTOM, [as Pyramus] Thisbe, the flowers of odious savors sweet-- QUINCE Odors, odors! BOTTOM, [as Pyramus] ...odors savors sweet. So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisbe dear.-- But hark, a voice! Stay thou but here awhile, And by and by I will to thee appear. [He exits.] ROBIN, [aside] A stranger Pyramus than e'er played here. [He exits.] FLUTE Must I speak now? QUINCE Ay, marry, must you, for you must understand he goes but to see a noise that he heard and is to come again. FLUTE, [as Thisbe] Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue, Of color like the red rose on triumphant brier, Most brisky juvenal and eke most lovely Jew, As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire. I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb. QUINCE "Ninus' tomb," man! Why, you must not speak that yet. That you answer to Pyramus. You speak all your part at once, cues and all.--Pyramus, enter. Your cue is past. It is "never tire." FLUTE O! [As Thisbe.] As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire. [Enter Robin, and Bottom as Pyramus with the ass-head.] BOTTOM, [as Pyramus] If I were fair, fair Thisbe, I were only thine. QUINCE O monstrous! O strange! We are haunted. Pray, masters, fly, masters! Help! [Quince, Flute, Snout, Snug, and Starveling exit.] ROBIN I'll follow you. I'll lead you about a round, Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier. Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound, A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire, And neigh and bark and grunt and roar and burn, Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn. [He exits.] BOTTOM Why do they run away? This is a knavery of them to make me afeard. [Enter Snout.] SNOUT O Bottom, thou art changed! What do I see on thee? BOTTOM What do you see? You see an ass-head of your own, do you? [Snout exits.] [Enter Quince.] QUINCE Bless thee, Bottom, bless thee! Thou art translated! [He exits.] BOTTOM I see their knavery. This is to make an ass of me, to fright me, if they could. But I will not stir from this place, do what they can. I will walk up and down here, and I will sing, that they shall hear I am not afraid. [He sings.] The ouzel cock, so black of hue, With orange-tawny bill, The throstle with his note so true, The wren with little quill-- TITANIA, [waking up] What angel wakes me from my flow'ry bed? BOTTOM [sings] The finch, the sparrow, and the lark, The plainsong cuckoo gray, Whose note full many a man doth mark And dares not answer "nay"-- for, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird? Who would give a bird the lie though he cry "cuckoo" never so? TITANIA I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again. Mine ear is much enamored of thy note, So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape, And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me On the first view to say, to swear, I love thee. BOTTOM Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that. And yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together nowadays. The more the pity that some honest neighbors will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleek upon occasion. TITANIA Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful. BOTTOM Not so neither; but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn. TITANIA Out of this wood do not desire to go. Thou shalt remain here whether thou wilt or no. I am a spirit of no common rate. The summer still doth tend upon my state, And I do love thee. Therefore go with me. I'll give thee fairies to attend on thee, And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep And sing while thou on pressed flowers dost sleep. And I will purge thy mortal grossness so That thou shalt like an airy spirit go.-- Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Mote, and Mustardseed! [Enter four Fairies: Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Mote, and Mustardseed.] PEASEBLOSSOM Ready. COBWEB And I. MOTE And I. MUSTARDSEED And I. ALL Where shall we go? TITANIA Be kind and courteous to this gentleman. Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes; Feed him with apricocks and dewberries, With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries; The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees, And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs And light them at the fiery glowworms' eyes To have my love to bed and to arise; And pluck the wings from painted butterflies To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes. Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies. PEASEBLOSSOM Hail, mortal! COBWEB Hail! MOTE Hail! MUSTARDSEED Hail! BOTTOM I cry your Worships mercy, heartily.--I beseech your Worship's name. COBWEB Cobweb. BOTTOM I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good Master Cobweb. If I cut my finger, I shall make bold with you.--Your name, honest gentleman? PEASEBLOSSOM Peaseblossom. BOTTOM I pray you, commend me to Mistress Squash, your mother, and to Master Peascod, your father. Good Master Peaseblossom, I shall desire you of more acquaintance too.--Your name, I beseech you, sir? MUSTARDSEED Mustardseed. BOTTOM Good Master Mustardseed, I know your patience well. That same cowardly, giantlike ox-beef hath devoured many a gentleman of your house. I promise you, your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now. I desire you of more acquaintance, good Master Mustardseed. TITANIA Come, wait upon him. Lead him to my bower. The moon, methinks, looks with a wat'ry eye, And when she weeps, weeps every little flower, Lamenting some enforced chastity. Tie up my lover's tongue. Bring him silently. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Oberon, King of Fairies.] OBERON I wonder if Titania be awaked; Then what it was that next came in her eye, Which she must dote on in extremity. [Enter Robin Goodfellow.] Here comes my messenger. How now, mad spirit? What night-rule now about this haunted grove? ROBIN My mistress with a monster is in love. Near to her close and consecrated bower, While she was in her dull and sleeping hour, A crew of patches, rude mechanicals, That work for bread upon Athenian stalls, Were met together to rehearse a play Intended for great Theseus' nuptial day. The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort, Who Pyramus presented in their sport, Forsook his scene and entered in a brake. When I did him at this advantage take, An ass's noll I fixed on his head. Anon his Thisbe must be answered, And forth my mimic comes. When they him spy, As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye, Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort, Rising and cawing at the gun's report, Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky, So at his sight away his fellows fly, And, at our stamp, here o'er and o'er one falls. He "Murder" cries and help from Athens calls. Their sense thus weak, lost with their fears thus strong, Made senseless things begin to do them wrong; For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch, Some sleeves, some hats, from yielders all things catch. I led them on in this distracted fear And left sweet Pyramus translated there. When in that moment, so it came to pass, Titania waked and straightway loved an ass. OBERON This falls out better than I could devise. But hast thou yet latched the Athenian's eyes With the love juice, as I did bid thee do? ROBIN I took him sleeping--that is finished, too-- And the Athenian woman by his side, That, when he waked, of force she must be eyed. [Enter Demetrius and Hermia.] OBERON Stand close. This is the same Athenian. ROBIN This is the woman, but not this the man. [They step aside.] DEMETRIUS O, why rebuke you him that loves you so? Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe! HERMIA Now I but chide, but I should use thee worse, For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse. If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep, Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep And kill me too. The sun was not so true unto the day As he to me. Would he have stolen away From sleeping Hermia? I'll believe as soon This whole Earth may be bored, and that the moon May through the center creep and so displease Her brother's noontide with th' Antipodes. It cannot be but thou hast murdered him. So should a murderer look, so dead, so grim. DEMETRIUS So should the murdered look, and so should I, Pierced through the heart with your stern cruelty. Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear, As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere. HERMIA What's this to my Lysander? Where is he? Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me? DEMETRIUS I had rather give his carcass to my hounds. HERMIA Out, dog! Out, cur! Thou driv'st me past the bounds Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him, then? Henceforth be never numbered among men. O, once tell true! Tell true, even for my sake! Durst thou have looked upon him, being awake? And hast thou killed him sleeping? O brave touch! Could not a worm, an adder, do so much? An adder did it, for with doubler tongue Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung. DEMETRIUS You spend your passion on a misprised mood. I am not guilty of Lysander's blood, Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell. HERMIA I pray thee, tell me then that he is well. DEMETRIUS An if I could, what should I get therefor? HERMIA A privilege never to see me more. And from thy hated presence part I so. See me no more, whether he be dead or no. [She exits.] DEMETRIUS There is no following her in this fierce vein. Here, therefore, for a while I will remain. So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow For debt that bankrout sleep doth sorrow owe, Which now in some slight measure it will pay, If for his tender here I make some stay. [He lies down and falls asleep.] OBERON, [to Robin] What hast thou done? Thou hast mistaken quite And laid the love juice on some true-love's sight. Of thy misprision must perforce ensue Some true-love turned, and not a false turned true. ROBIN Then fate o'errules, that, one man holding troth, A million fail, confounding oath on oath. OBERON About the wood go swifter than the wind, And Helena of Athens look thou find. All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer With sighs of love that costs the fresh blood dear. By some illusion see thou bring her here. I'll charm his eyes against she do appear. ROBIN I go, I go, look how I go, Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow. [He exits.] OBERON, [applying the nectar to Demetrius' eyes] Flower of this purple dye, Hit with Cupid's archery, Sink in apple of his eye. When his love he doth espy, Let her shine as gloriously As the Venus of the sky.-- When thou wak'st, if she be by, Beg of her for remedy. [Enter Robin.] ROBIN Captain of our fairy band, Helena is here at hand, And the youth, mistook by me, Pleading for a lover's fee. Shall we their fond pageant see? Lord, what fools these mortals be! OBERON Stand aside. The noise they make Will cause Demetrius to awake. ROBIN Then will two at once woo one. That must needs be sport alone. And those things do best please me That befall prepost'rously. [They step aside.] [Enter Lysander and Helena.] LYSANDER Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? Scorn and derision never come in tears. Look when I vow, I weep; and vows so born, In their nativity all truth appears. How can these things in me seem scorn to you, Bearing the badge of faith to prove them true? HELENA You do advance your cunning more and more. When truth kills truth, O devilish holy fray! These vows are Hermia's. Will you give her o'er? Weigh oath with oath and you will nothing weigh. Your vows to her and me, put in two scales, Will even weigh, and both as light as tales. LYSANDER I had no judgment when to her I swore. HELENA Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o'er. LYSANDER Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you. DEMETRIUS, [waking up] O Helen, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine! To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne? Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow! That pure congealed white, high Taurus' snow, Fanned with the eastern wind, turns to a crow When thou hold'st up thy hand. O, let me kiss This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss! HELENA O spite! O hell! I see you all are bent To set against me for your merriment. If you were civil and knew courtesy, You would not do me thus much injury. Can you not hate me, as I know you do, But you must join in souls to mock me too? If you were men, as men you are in show, You would not use a gentle lady so, To vow and swear and superpraise my parts, When, I am sure, you hate me with your hearts. You both are rivals and love Hermia, And now both rivals to mock Helena. A trim exploit, a manly enterprise, To conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyes With your derision! None of noble sort Would so offend a virgin and extort A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport. LYSANDER You are unkind, Demetrius. Be not so, For you love Hermia; this you know I know. And here with all goodwill, with all my heart, In Hermia's love I yield you up my part. And yours of Helena to me bequeath, Whom I do love and will do till my death. HELENA Never did mockers waste more idle breath. DEMETRIUS Lysander, keep thy Hermia. I will none. If e'er I loved her, all that love is gone. My heart to her but as guest-wise sojourned, And now to Helen is it home returned, There to remain. LYSANDER Helen, it is not so. DEMETRIUS Disparage not the faith thou dost not know, Lest to thy peril thou aby it dear. Look where thy love comes. Yonder is thy dear. [Enter Hermia.] HERMIA, [to Lysander] Dark night, that from the eye his function takes, The ear more quick of apprehension makes; Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense, It pays the hearing double recompense. Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found; Mine ear, I thank it, brought me to thy sound. But why unkindly didst thou leave me so? LYSANDER Why should he stay whom love doth press to go? HERMIA What love could press Lysander from my side? LYSANDER Lysander's love, that would not let him bide, Fair Helena, who more engilds the night Than all yon fiery oes and eyes of light. Why seek'st thou me? Could not this make thee know The hate I bear thee made me leave thee so? HERMIA You speak not as you think. It cannot be. HELENA Lo, she is one of this confederacy! Now I perceive they have conjoined all three To fashion this false sport in spite of me.-- Injurious Hermia, most ungrateful maid, Have you conspired, have you with these contrived, To bait me with this foul derision? Is all the counsel that we two have shared, The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent When we have chid the hasty-footed time For parting us--O, is all forgot? All schooldays' friendship, childhood innocence? We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, Have with our needles created both one flower, Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, Both warbling of one song, both in one key, As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds Had been incorporate. So we grew together Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, But yet an union in partition, Two lovely berries molded on one stem; So with two seeming bodies but one heart, Two of the first, like coats in heraldry, Due but to one, and crowned with one crest. And will you rent our ancient love asunder, To join with men in scorning your poor friend? It is not friendly; 'tis not maidenly. Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it, Though I alone do feel the injury. HERMIA I am amazed at your words. I scorn you not. It seems that you scorn me. HELENA Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn, To follow me and praise my eyes and face, And made your other love, Demetrius, Who even but now did spurn me with his foot, To call me goddess, nymph, divine and rare, Precious, celestial? Wherefore speaks he this To her he hates? And wherefore doth Lysander Deny your love (so rich within his soul) And tender me, forsooth, affection, But by your setting on, by your consent? What though I be not so in grace as you, So hung upon with love, so fortunate, But miserable most, to love unloved? This you should pity rather than despise. HERMIA I understand not what you mean by this. HELENA Ay, do. Persever, counterfeit sad looks, Make mouths upon me when I turn my back, Wink each at other, hold the sweet jest up. This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled. If you have any pity, grace, or manners, You would not make me such an argument. But fare you well. 'Tis partly my own fault, Which death or absence soon shall remedy. LYSANDER Stay, gentle Helena. Hear my excuse, My love, my life, my soul, fair Helena. HELENA O excellent! HERMIA, [to Lysander] Sweet, do not scorn her so. DEMETRIUS, [to Lysander] If she cannot entreat, I can compel. LYSANDER Thou canst compel no more than she entreat. Thy threats have no more strength than her weak prayers.-- Helen, I love thee. By my life, I do. I swear by that which I will lose for thee, To prove him false that says I love thee not. DEMETRIUS I say I love thee more than he can do. LYSANDER If thou say so, withdraw and prove it too. DEMETRIUS Quick, come. HERMIA Lysander, whereto tends all this? [She takes hold of Lysander.] LYSANDER Away, you Ethiop! DEMETRIUS, [to Hermia] No, no. He'll Seem to break loose. [To Lysander.] Take on as you would follow, But yet come not. You are a tame man, go! LYSANDER, [to Hermia] Hang off, thou cat, thou burr! Vile thing, let loose, Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent. HERMIA Why are you grown so rude? What change is this, Sweet love? LYSANDER Thy love? Out, tawny Tartar, out! Out, loathed med'cine! O, hated potion, hence! HERMIA Do you not jest? HELENA Yes, sooth, and so do you. LYSANDER Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee. DEMETRIUS I would I had your bond. For I perceive A weak bond holds you. I'll not trust your word. LYSANDER What? Should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead? Although I hate her, I'll not harm her so. HERMIA What, can you do me greater harm than hate? Hate me? Wherefore? O me, what news, my love? Am not I Hermia? Are not you Lysander? I am as fair now as I was erewhile. Since night you loved me; yet since night you left me. Why, then, you left me--O, the gods forbid!-- In earnest, shall I say? LYSANDER Ay, by my life, And never did desire to see thee more. Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt. Be certain, nothing truer, 'tis no jest That I do hate thee and love Helena. [Hermia turns him loose.] HERMIA O me! [To Helena.] You juggler, you cankerblossom, You thief of love! What, have you come by night And stol'n my love's heart from him? HELENA Fine, i' faith. Have you no modesty, no maiden shame, No touch of bashfulness? What, will you tear Impatient answers from my gentle tongue? Fie, fie, you counterfeit, you puppet, you! HERMIA "Puppet"? Why so? Ay, that way goes the game. Now I perceive that she hath made compare Between our statures; she hath urged her height, And with her personage, her tall personage, Her height, forsooth, she hath prevailed with him. And are you grown so high in his esteem Because I am so dwarfish and so low? How low am I, thou painted maypole? Speak! How low am I? I am not yet so low But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes. HELENA I pray you, though you mock me, gentlemen, Let her not hurt me. I was never curst; I have no gift at all in shrewishness. I am a right maid for my cowardice. Let her not strike me. You perhaps may think, Because she is something lower than myself, That I can match her. HERMIA "Lower"? Hark, again! HELENA Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me. I evermore did love you, Hermia, Did ever keep your counsels, never wronged you-- Save that, in love unto Demetrius, I told him of your stealth unto this wood. He followed you; for love, I followed him. But he hath chid me hence and threatened me To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too. And now, so you will let me quiet go, To Athens will I bear my folly back And follow you no further. Let me go. You see how simple and how fond I am. HERMIA Why, get you gone. Who is 't that hinders you? HELENA A foolish heart that I leave here behind. HERMIA What, with Lysander? HELENA With Demetrius. LYSANDER Be not afraid. She shall not harm thee, Helena. DEMETRIUS No, sir, she shall not, though you take her part. HELENA O, when she is angry, she is keen and shrewd. She was a vixen when she went to school, And though she be but little, she is fierce. HERMIA "Little" again? Nothing but "low" and "little"? Why will you suffer her to flout me thus? Let me come to her. LYSANDER Get you gone, you dwarf, You minimus of hind'ring knotgrass made, You bead, you acorn-- DEMETRIUS You are too officious In her behalf that scorns your services. Let her alone. Speak not of Helena. Take not her part. For if thou dost intend Never so little show of love to her, Thou shalt aby it. LYSANDER Now she holds me not. Now follow, if thou dar'st, to try whose right, Of thine or mine, is most in Helena. DEMETRIUS "Follow"? Nay, I'll go with thee, cheek by jowl. [Demetrius and Lysander exit.] HERMIA You, mistress, all this coil is long of you. [Helena retreats.] Nay, go not back. HELENA I will not trust you, I, Nor longer stay in your curst company. Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray. My legs are longer though, to run away. [She exits.] HERMIA I am amazed and know not what to say. [She exits.] OBERON, [to Robin] This is thy negligence. Still thou mistak'st, Or else committ'st thy knaveries willfully. ROBIN Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook. Did not you tell me I should know the man By the Athenian garments he had on? And so far blameless proves my enterprise That I have 'nointed an Athenian's eyes; And so far am I glad it so did sort, As this their jangling I esteem a sport. OBERON Thou seest these lovers seek a place to fight. Hie, therefore, Robin, overcast the night; The starry welkin cover thou anon With drooping fog as black as Acheron, And lead these testy rivals so astray As one come not within another's way. Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue; Then stir Demetrius up with bitter wrong. And sometime rail thou like Demetrius. And from each other look thou lead them thus, Till o'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep. Then crush this herb into Lysander's eye, [He gives a flower to Robin.] Whose liquor hath this virtuous property, To take from thence all error with his might And make his eyeballs roll with wonted sight. When they next wake, all this derision Shall seem a dream and fruitless vision. And back to Athens shall the lovers wend, With league whose date till death shall never end. Whiles I in this affair do thee employ, I'll to my queen and beg her Indian boy; And then I will her charmed eye release From monster's view, and all things shall be peace. ROBIN My fairy lord, this must be done with haste, For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger, At whose approach, ghosts wand'ring here and there Troop home to churchyards. Damned spirits all, That in crossways and floods have burial, Already to their wormy beds are gone. For fear lest day should look their shames upon, They willfully themselves exile from light And must for aye consort with black-browed night. OBERON But we are spirits of another sort. I with the Morning's love have oft made sport And, like a forester, the groves may tread Even till the eastern gate, all fiery red, Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams, Turns into yellow gold his salt-green streams. But notwithstanding, haste! Make no delay. We may effect this business yet ere day. [He exits.] ROBIN Up and down, up and down, I will lead them up and down. I am feared in field and town. Goblin, lead them up and down. Here comes one. [Enter Lysander.] LYSANDER Where art thou, proud Demetrius? Speak thou now. ROBIN, [in Demetrius' voice] Here, villain, drawn and ready. Where art thou? LYSANDER I will be with thee straight. ROBIN, [in Demetrius' voice] Follow me, then, to plainer ground. [Lysander exits.] [Enter Demetrius.] DEMETRIUS Lysander, speak again. Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled? Speak! In some bush? Where dost thou hide thy head? ROBIN, [in Lysander's voice] Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars, Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars, And wilt not come? Come, recreant! Come, thou child! I'll whip thee with a rod. He is defiled That draws a sword on thee. DEMETRIUS Yea, art thou there? ROBIN, [in Lysander's voice] Follow my voice. We'll try no manhood here. [They exit.] [Enter Lysander.] LYSANDER He goes before me and still dares me on. When I come where he calls, then he is gone. The villain is much lighter-heeled than I. I followed fast, but faster he did fly, That fallen am I in dark uneven way, And here will rest me. Come, thou gentle day, For if but once thou show me thy gray light, I'll find Demetrius and revenge this spite. [He lies down and sleeps.] [Enter Robin and Demetrius.] ROBIN, [in Lysander's voice] Ho, ho, ho! Coward, why com'st thou not? DEMETRIUS Abide me, if thou dar'st, for well I wot Thou runn'st before me, shifting every place, And dar'st not stand nor look me in the face. Where art thou now? ROBIN, [in Lysander's voice] Come hither. I am here. DEMETRIUS Nay, then, thou mock'st me. Thou shalt buy this dear If ever I thy face by daylight see. Now go thy way. Faintness constraineth me To measure out my length on this cold bed. By day's approach look to be visited. [He lies down and sleeps.] [Enter Helena.] HELENA O weary night, O long and tedious night, Abate thy hours! Shine, comforts, from the east, That I may back to Athens by daylight From these that my poor company detest. And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye, Steal me awhile from mine own company. [She lies down and sleeps.] ROBIN Yet but three? Come one more. Two of both kinds makes up four. Here she comes, curst and sad. Cupid is a knavish lad Thus to make poor females mad. [Enter Hermia.] HERMIA Never so weary, never so in woe, Bedabbled with the dew and torn with briers, I can no further crawl, no further go. My legs can keep no pace with my desires. Here will I rest me till the break of day. Heavens shield Lysander if they mean a fray! [She lies down and sleeps.] ROBIN On the ground Sleep sound. I'll apply To your eye, Gentle lover, remedy. [Robin applies the nectar to Lysander's eyes.] When thou wak'st, Thou tak'st True delight In the sight Of thy former lady's eye. And the country proverb known, That every man should take his own, In your waking shall be shown. Jack shall have Jill; Naught shall go ill; The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well. [He exits.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [With the four lovers still asleep onstage, enter Titania, Queen of Fairies, and Bottom and Fairies, and Oberon, the King, behind them unseen by those onstage.] TITANIA Come, sit thee down upon this flow'ry bed, While I thy amiable cheeks do coy, And stick muskroses in thy sleek smooth head, And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy. BOTTOM Where's Peaseblossom? PEASEBLOSSOM Ready. BOTTOM Scratch my head, Peaseblossom. Where's Monsieur Cobweb? COBWEB Ready. BOTTOM Monsieur Cobweb, good monsieur, get you your weapons in your hand and kill me a red-hipped humble-bee on the top of a thistle, and, good monsieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret yourself too much in the action, monsieur, and, good monsieur, have a care the honey-bag break not; I would be loath to have you overflown with a honey-bag, signior. [Cobweb exits.] Where's Monsieur Mustardseed? MUSTARDSEED Ready. BOTTOM Give me your neaf, Monsieur Mustardseed. Pray you, leave your courtesy, good monsieur. MUSTARDSEED What's your will? BOTTOM Nothing, good monsieur, but to help Cavalery Cobweb to scratch. I must to the barber's, monsieur, for methinks I am marvels hairy about the face. And I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch. TITANIA What, wilt thou hear some music, my sweet love? BOTTOM I have a reasonable good ear in music. Let's have the tongs and the bones. TITANIA Or say, sweet love, what thou desirest to eat. BOTTOM Truly, a peck of provender. I could munch your good dry oats. Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle of hay. Good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow. TITANIA I have a venturous fairy that shall seek The squirrel's hoard and fetch thee new nuts. BOTTOM I had rather have a handful or two of dried peas. But, I pray you, let none of your people stir me; I have an exposition of sleep come upon me. TITANIA Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms.-- Fairies, begone, and be all ways away. [Fairies exit.] So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle Gently entwist; the female ivy so Enrings the barky fingers of the elm. O, how I love thee! How I dote on thee! [Bottom and Titania sleep.] [Enter Robin Goodfellow.] OBERON Welcome, good Robin. Seest thou this sweet sight? Her dotage now I do begin to pity. For, meeting her of late behind the wood, Seeking sweet favors for this hateful fool, I did upbraid her and fall out with her. For she his hairy temples then had rounded With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers; And that same dew, which sometime on the buds Was wont to swell like round and orient pearls, Stood now within the pretty flouriets' eyes, Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail. When I had at my pleasure taunted her, And she in mild terms begged my patience, I then did ask of her her changeling child, Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent To bear him to my bower in Fairyland. And now I have the boy, I will undo This hateful imperfection of her eyes. And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp From off the head of this Athenian swain, That he, awaking when the other do, May all to Athens back again repair And think no more of this night's accidents But as the fierce vexation of a dream. But first I will release the Fairy Queen. [He applies the nectar to her eyes.] Be as thou wast wont to be. See as thou wast wont to see. Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower Hath such force and blessed power. Now, my Titania, wake you, my sweet queen. TITANIA, [waking] My Oberon, what visions have I seen! Methought I was enamored of an ass. OBERON There lies your love. TITANIA How came these things to pass? O, how mine eyes do loathe his visage now! OBERON Silence awhile.--Robin, take off this head.-- Titania, music call; and strike more dead Than common sleep of all these five the sense. TITANIA Music, ho, music such as charmeth sleep! ROBIN, [removing the ass-head from Bottom] Now, when thou wak'st, with thine own fool's eyes peep. OBERON Sound music. [Music.] Come, my queen, take hands with me, And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be. [Titania and Oberon dance.] Now thou and I are new in amity, And will tomorrow midnight solemnly Dance in Duke Theseus' house triumphantly, And bless it to all fair prosperity. There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity. ROBIN Fairy king, attend and mark. I do hear the morning lark. OBERON Then, my queen, in silence sad Trip we after night's shade. We the globe can compass soon, Swifter than the wand'ring moon. TITANIA Come, my lord, and in our flight Tell me how it came this night That I sleeping here was found With these mortals on the ground. [Oberon, Robin, and Titania exit.] [Wind horn. Enter Theseus and all his train, Hippolyta, Egeus.] THESEUS Go, one of you, find out the Forester. For now our observation is performed, And, since we have the vaward of the day, My love shall hear the music of my hounds. Uncouple in the western valley; let them go. Dispatch, I say, and find the Forester. [A Servant exits.] We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top And mark the musical confusion Of hounds and echo in conjunction. HIPPOLYTA I was with Hercules and Cadmus once, When in a wood of Crete they bayed the bear With hounds of Sparta. Never did I hear Such gallant chiding, for, besides the groves, The skies, the fountains, every region near Seemed all one mutual cry. I never heard So musical a discord, such sweet thunder. THESEUS My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, So flewed, so sanded; and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew; Crook-kneed, and dewlapped like Thessalian bulls; Slow in pursuit, but matched in mouth like bells, Each under each. A cry more tunable Was never holloed to, nor cheered with horn, In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly. Judge when you hear.--But soft! What nymphs are these? EGEUS My lord, this is my daughter here asleep, And this Lysander; this Demetrius is, This Helena, old Nedar's Helena. I wonder of their being here together. THESEUS No doubt they rose up early to observe The rite of May, and hearing our intent, Came here in grace of our solemnity. But speak, Egeus. Is not this the day That Hermia should give answer of her choice? EGEUS It is, my lord. THESEUS Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns. [A Servant exits.] [Shout within. Wind horns. They all start up.] THESEUS Good morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is past. Begin these woodbirds but to couple now? [Demetrius, Helena, Hermia, and Lysander kneel.] LYSANDER Pardon, my lord. THESEUS I pray you all, stand up. [They rise.] I know you two are rival enemies. How comes this gentle concord in the world, That hatred is so far from jealousy To sleep by hate and fear no enmity? LYSANDER My lord, I shall reply amazedly, Half sleep, half waking. But as yet, I swear, I cannot truly say how I came here. But, as I think--for truly would I speak, And now I do bethink me, so it is: I came with Hermia hither. Our intent Was to be gone from Athens, where we might, Without the peril of the Athenian law-- EGEUS Enough, enough!--My lord, you have enough. I beg the law, the law upon his head. They would have stol'n away.--They would, Demetrius, Thereby to have defeated you and me: You of your wife and me of my consent, Of my consent that she should be your wife. DEMETRIUS My lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth, Of this their purpose hither to this wood, And I in fury hither followed them, Fair Helena in fancy following me. But, my good lord, I wot not by what power (But by some power it is) my love to Hermia, Melted as the snow, seems to me now As the remembrance of an idle gaud Which in my childhood I did dote upon, And all the faith, the virtue of my heart, The object and the pleasure of mine eye, Is only Helena. To her, my lord, Was I betrothed ere I saw Hermia. But like a sickness did I loathe this food. But, as in health, come to my natural taste, Now I do wish it, love it, long for it, And will forevermore be true to it. THESEUS Fair lovers, you are fortunately met. Of this discourse we more will hear anon.-- Egeus, I will overbear your will, For in the temple by and by, with us, These couples shall eternally be knit.-- And, for the morning now is something worn, Our purposed hunting shall be set aside. Away with us to Athens. Three and three, We'll hold a feast in great solemnity. Come, Hippolyta. [Theseus and his train, including Hippolyta and Egeus, exit.] DEMETRIUS These things seem small and undistinguishable, Like far-off mountains turned into clouds. HERMIA Methinks I see these things with parted eye, When everything seems double. HELENA So methinks. And I have found Demetrius like a jewel, Mine own and not mine own. DEMETRIUS Are you sure That we are awake? It seems to me That yet we sleep, we dream. Do not you think The Duke was here and bid us follow him? HERMIA Yea, and my father. HELENA And Hippolyta. LYSANDER And he did bid us follow to the temple. DEMETRIUS Why, then, we are awake. Let's follow him, And by the way let us recount our dreams. [Lovers exit.] BOTTOM, [waking up] When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer. My next is "Most fair Pyramus." Hey-ho! Peter Quince! Flute the bellows-mender! Snout the tinker! Starveling! God's my life! Stolen hence and left me asleep! I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream past the wit of man to say what dream it was. Man is but an ass if he go about to expound this dream. Methought I was--there is no man can tell what. Methought I was and methought I had--but man is but a patched fool if he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream. It shall be called "Bottom's Dream" because it hath no bottom; and I will sing it in the latter end of a play, before the Duke. Peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her death. [He exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Quince, Flute, Snout, and Starveling.] QUINCE Have you sent to Bottom's house? Is he come home yet? STARVELING He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt he is transported. FLUTE If he come not, then the play is marred. It goes not forward, doth it? QUINCE It is not possible. You have not a man in all Athens able to discharge Pyramus but he. FLUTE No, he hath simply the best wit of any handicraftman in Athens. QUINCE Yea, and the best person too, and he is a very paramour for a sweet voice. FLUTE You must say "paragon." A "paramour" is (God bless us) a thing of naught. [Enter Snug the joiner.] SNUG Masters, the Duke is coming from the temple, and there is two or three lords and ladies more married. If our sport had gone forward, we had all been made men. FLUTE O, sweet bully Bottom! Thus hath he lost sixpence a day during his life. He could not have 'scaped sixpence a day. An the Duke had not given him sixpence a day for playing Pyramus, I'll be hanged. He would have deserved it. Sixpence a day in Pyramus, or nothing! [Enter Bottom.] BOTTOM Where are these lads? Where are these hearts? QUINCE Bottom! O most courageous day! O most happy hour! BOTTOM Masters, I am to discourse wonders. But ask me not what; for, if I tell you, I am not true Athenian. I will tell you everything right as it fell out. QUINCE Let us hear, sweet Bottom. BOTTOM Not a word of me. All that I will tell you is that the Duke hath dined. Get your apparel together, good strings to your beards, new ribbons to your pumps. Meet presently at the palace. Every man look o'er his part. For the short and the long is, our play is preferred. In any case, let Thisbe have clean linen, and let not him that plays the lion pare his nails, for they shall hang out for the lion's claws. And, most dear actors, eat no onions nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath, and I do not doubt but to hear them say it is a sweet comedy. No more words. Away! Go, away! [They exit.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, and Philostrate, Lords, and Attendants.] HIPPOLYTA 'Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers speak of. THESEUS More strange than true. I never may believe These antique fables nor these fairy toys. Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends. The lunatic, the lover, and the poet Are of imagination all compact. One sees more devils than vast hell can hold: That is the madman. The lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt. The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to Earth, from Earth to heaven, And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination That, if it would but apprehend some joy, It comprehends some bringer of that joy. Or in the night, imagining some fear, How easy is a bush supposed a bear! HIPPOLYTA But all the story of the night told over, And all their minds transfigured so together, More witnesseth than fancy's images And grows to something of great constancy, But, howsoever, strange and admirable. [Enter Lovers: Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia, and Helena.] THESEUS Here come the lovers full of joy and mirth.-- Joy, gentle friends! Joy and fresh days of love Accompany your hearts! LYSANDER More than to us Wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed! THESEUS Come now, what masques, what dances shall we have To wear away this long age of three hours Between our after-supper and bedtime? Where is our usual manager of mirth? What revels are in hand? Is there no play To ease the anguish of a torturing hour? Call Philostrate. PHILOSTRATE, [coming forward] Here, mighty Theseus. THESEUS Say what abridgment have you for this evening, What masque, what music? How shall we beguile The lazy time if not with some delight? PHILOSTRATE, [giving Theseus a paper] There is a brief how many sports are ripe. Make choice of which your Highness will see first. THESEUS "The battle with the Centaurs, to be sung By an Athenian eunuch to the harp." We'll none of that. That have I told my love In glory of my kinsman Hercules. "The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals, Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage." That is an old device, and it was played When I from Thebes came last a conqueror. "The thrice-three Muses mourning for the death Of learning, late deceased in beggary." That is some satire, keen and critical, Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony. "A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus And his love Thisbe, very tragical mirth." "Merry" and "tragical"? "Tedious" and "brief"? That is hot ice and wondrous strange snow! How shall we find the concord of this discord? PHILOSTRATE A play there is, my lord, some ten words long (Which is as brief as I have known a play), But by ten words, my lord, it is too long, Which makes it tedious; for in all the play, There is not one word apt, one player fitted. And tragical, my noble lord, it is. For Pyramus therein doth kill himself, Which, when I saw rehearsed, I must confess, Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears The passion of loud laughter never shed. THESEUS What are they that do play it? PHILOSTRATE Hard-handed men that work in Athens here, Which never labored in their minds till now, And now have toiled their unbreathed memories With this same play, against your nuptial. THESEUS And we will hear it. PHILOSTRATE No, my noble lord, It is not for you. I have heard it over, And it is nothing, nothing in the world, Unless you can find sport in their intents, Extremely stretched and conned with cruel pain To do you service. THESEUS I will hear that play, For never anything can be amiss When simpleness and duty tender it. Go, bring them in--and take your places, ladies. [Philostrate exits.] HIPPOLYTA I love not to see wretchedness o'ercharged, And duty in his service perishing. THESEUS Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing. HIPPOLYTA He says they can do nothing in this kind. THESEUS The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing. Our sport shall be to take what they mistake; And what poor duty cannot do, noble respect Takes it in might, not merit. Where I have come, great clerks have purposed To greet me with premeditated welcomes, Where I have seen them shiver and look pale, Make periods in the midst of sentences, Throttle their practiced accent in their fears, And in conclusion dumbly have broke off, Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet, Out of this silence yet I picked a welcome, And in the modesty of fearful duty, I read as much as from the rattling tongue Of saucy and audacious eloquence. Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity In least speak most, to my capacity. [Enter Philostrate.] PHILOSTRATE So please your Grace, the Prologue is addressed. THESEUS Let him approach. [Enter the Prologue.] PROLOGUE If we offend, it is with our goodwill. That you should think we come not to offend, But with goodwill. To show our simple skill, That is the true beginning of our end. Consider, then, we come but in despite. We do not come, as minding to content you, Our true intent is. All for your delight We are not here. That you should here repent you, The actors are at hand, and, by their show, You shall know all that you are like to know. [Prologue exits.] THESEUS This fellow doth not stand upon points. LYSANDER He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt; he knows not the stop. A good moral, my lord: it is not enough to speak, but to speak true. HIPPOLYTA Indeed he hath played on this prologue like a child on a recorder--a sound, but not in government. THESEUS His speech was like a tangled chain--nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next? [Enter Pyramus (Bottom), and Thisbe (Flute), and Wall (Snout), and Moonshine (Starveling), and Lion (Snug), and Prologue (Quince).] QUINCE, [as Prologue] Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show. But wonder on, till truth make all things plain. This man is Pyramus, if you would know. This beauteous lady Thisbe is certain. This man with lime and roughcast doth present "Wall," that vile wall which did these lovers sunder; And through Wall's chink, poor souls, they are content To whisper, at the which let no man wonder. This man, with lantern, dog, and bush of thorn, Presenteth "Moonshine," for, if you will know, By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo. This grisly beast (which "Lion" hight by name) The trusty Thisbe coming first by night Did scare away or rather did affright; And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall, Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain. Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall, And finds his trusty Thisbe's mantle slain. Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade, He bravely broached his boiling bloody breast. And Thisbe, tarrying in mulberry shade, His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest, Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain At large discourse, while here they do remain. THESEUS I wonder if the lion be to speak. DEMETRIUS No wonder, my lord. One lion may when many asses do. [Lion, Thisbe, Moonshine, and Prologue exit.] SNOUT, [as Wall] In this same interlude it doth befall That I, one Snout by name, present a wall; And such a wall as I would have you think That had in it a crannied hole or chink, Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisbe, Did whisper often, very secretly. This loam, this roughcast, and this stone doth show That I am that same wall. The truth is so. And this the cranny is, right and sinister, Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper. THESEUS Would you desire lime and hair to speak better? DEMETRIUS It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard discourse, my lord. THESEUS Pyramus draws near the wall. Silence. BOTTOM, [as Pyramus] O grim-looked night! O night with hue so black! O night, which ever art when day is not! O night! O night! Alack, alack, alack! I fear my Thisbe's promise is forgot. And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall, That stand'st between her father's ground and mine, Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall, Show me thy chink to blink through with mine eyne. Thanks, courteous wall. Jove shield thee well for this. But what see I? No Thisbe do I see. O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss, Cursed be thy stones for thus deceiving me! THESEUS The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again. BOTTOM No, in truth, sir, he should not. "Deceiving me" is Thisbe's cue. She is to enter now, and I am to spy her through the wall. You shall see it will fall pat as I told you. Yonder she comes. [Enter Thisbe (Flute).] FLUTE, [as Thisbe] O wall, full often hast thou heard my moans For parting my fair Pyramus and me. My cherry lips have often kissed thy stones, Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee. BOTTOM, [as Pyramus] I see a voice! Now will I to the chink To spy an I can hear my Thisbe's face. Thisbe? FLUTE, [as Thisbe] My love! Thou art my love, I think. BOTTOM, [as Pyramus] Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace, And, like Limander, am I trusty still. FLUTE, [as Thisbe] And I like Helen, till the Fates me kill. BOTTOM, [as Pyramus] Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true. FLUTE, [as Thisbe] As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you. BOTTOM, [as Pyramus] O kiss me through the hole of this vile wall. FLUTE, [as Thisbe] I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all. BOTTOM, [as Pyramus] Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway? FLUTE, [as Thisbe] 'Tide life, 'tide death, I come without delay. [Bottom and Flute exit.] SNOUT, [as Wall] Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so, And, being done, thus Wall away doth go. [He exits.] THESEUS Now is the wall down between the two neighbors. DEMETRIUS No remedy, my lord, when walls are so willful to hear without warning. HIPPOLYTA This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard. THESEUS The best in this kind are but shadows, and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them. HIPPOLYTA It must be your imagination, then, and not theirs. THESEUS If we imagine no worse of them than they of themselves, they may pass for excellent men. Here come two noble beasts in, a man and a lion. [Enter Lion (Snug) and Moonshine (Starveling).] SNUG, [as Lion] You ladies, you whose gentle hearts do fear The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor, May now perchance both quake and tremble here, When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar. Then know that I, as Snug the joiner, am A lion fell, nor else no lion's dam; For if I should as lion come in strife Into this place, 'twere pity on my life. THESEUS A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience. DEMETRIUS The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw. LYSANDER This lion is a very fox for his valor. THESEUS True, and a goose for his discretion. DEMETRIUS Not so, my lord, for his valor cannot carry his discretion, and the fox carries the goose. THESEUS His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valor, for the goose carries not the fox. It is well. Leave it to his discretion, and let us listen to the Moon. STARVELING, [as Moonshine] This lanthorn doth the horned moon present. DEMETRIUS He should have worn the horns on his head. THESEUS He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible within the circumference. STARVELING, [as Moonshine] This lanthorn doth the horned moon present. Myself the man i' th' moon do seem to be. THESEUS This is the greatest error of all the rest; the man should be put into the lanthorn. How is it else "the man i' th' moon"? DEMETRIUS He dares not come there for the candle, for you see, it is already in snuff. HIPPOLYTA I am aweary of this moon. Would he would change. THESEUS It appears by his small light of discretion that he is in the wane; but yet, in courtesy, in all reason, we must stay the time. LYSANDER Proceed, Moon. STARVELING, [as Moonshine] All that I have to say is to tell you that the lanthorn is the moon, I the man i' th' moon, this thornbush my thornbush, and this dog my dog. DEMETRIUS Why, all these should be in the lanthorn, for all these are in the moon. But silence. Here comes Thisbe. [Enter Thisbe (Flute).] FLUTE, [as Thisbe] This is old Ninny's tomb. Where is my love? SNUG, [as Lion] O! [The Lion roars. Thisbe runs off, dropping her mantle.] DEMETRIUS Well roared, Lion. THESEUS Well run, Thisbe. HIPPOLYTA Well shone, Moon. Truly, the Moon shines with a good grace. [Lion worries the mantle.] THESEUS Well moused, Lion. [Enter Pyramus (Bottom).] DEMETRIUS And then came Pyramus. [Lion exits.] LYSANDER And so the lion vanished. BOTTOM, [as Pyramus] Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams. I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright, For by thy gracious, golden, glittering gleams, I trust to take of truest Thisbe sight.-- But stay! O spite! But mark, poor knight, What dreadful dole is here! Eyes, do you see! How can it be! O dainty duck! O dear! Thy mantle good-- What, stained with blood? Approach, ye Furies fell! O Fates, come, come, Cut thread and thrum, Quail, crush, conclude, and quell! THESEUS This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad. HIPPOLYTA Beshrew my heart but I pity the man. BOTTOM, [as Pyramus] O, wherefore, Nature, didst thou lions frame, Since lion vile hath here deflowered my dear, Which is--no, no--which was the fairest dame That lived, that loved, that liked, that looked with cheer? Come, tears, confound! Out, sword, and wound The pap of Pyramus; Ay, that left pap, Where heart doth hop. [Pyramus stabs himself.] Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. Now am I dead; Now am I fled; My soul is in the sky. Tongue, lose thy light! Moon, take thy flight! [Moonshine exits.] Now die, die, die, die, die. [Pyramus falls.] DEMETRIUS No die, but an ace for him, for he is but one. LYSANDER Less than an ace, man, for he is dead, he is nothing. THESEUS With the help of a surgeon he might yet recover and yet prove an ass. HIPPOLYTA How chance Moonshine is gone before Thisbe comes back and finds her lover? THESEUS She will find him by starlight. [Enter Thisbe (Flute).] Here she comes, and her passion ends the play. HIPPOLYTA Methinks she should not use a long one for such a Pyramus. I hope she will be brief. DEMETRIUS A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, which Thisbe, is the better: he for a man, God warrant us; she for a woman, God bless us. LYSANDER She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes. DEMETRIUS And thus she means, videlicet-- FLUTE, [as Thisbe] Asleep, my love? What, dead, my dove? O Pyramus, arise! Speak, speak. Quite dumb? Dead? Dead? A tomb Must cover thy sweet eyes. These lily lips, This cherry nose, These yellow cowslip cheeks Are gone, are gone! Lovers, make moan; His eyes were green as leeks. O Sisters Three, Come, come to me With hands as pale as milk. Lay them in gore, Since you have shore With shears his thread of silk. Tongue, not a word! Come, trusty sword, Come, blade, my breast imbrue! [Thisbe stabs herself.] And farewell, friends. Thus Thisbe ends. Adieu, adieu, adieu. [Thisbe falls.] THESEUS Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead. DEMETRIUS Ay, and Wall too. [Bottom and Flute arise.] BOTTOM No, I assure you, the wall is down that parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the Epilogue or to hear a Bergomask dance between two of our company? THESEUS No epilogue, I pray you. For your play needs no excuse. Never excuse. For when the players are all dead, there need none to be blamed. Marry, if he that writ it had played Pyramus and hanged himself in Thisbe's garter, it would have been a fine tragedy; and so it is, truly, and very notably discharged. But, come, your Bergomask. Let your epilogue alone. [Dance, and the players exit.] The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve. Lovers, to bed! 'Tis almost fairy time. I fear we shall outsleep the coming morn As much as we this night have overwatched. This palpable-gross play hath well beguiled The heavy gait of night. Sweet friends, to bed. A fortnight hold we this solemnity In nightly revels and new jollity. [They exit.] [Enter Robin Goodfellow.] ROBIN Now the hungry lion roars, And the wolf behowls the moon, Whilst the heavy plowman snores, All with weary task fordone. Now the wasted brands do glow, Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud, Puts the wretch that lies in woe In remembrance of a shroud. Now it is the time of night That the graves, all gaping wide, Every one lets forth his sprite In the church-way paths to glide. And we fairies, that do run By the triple Hecate's team From the presence of the sun, Following darkness like a dream, Now are frolic. Not a mouse Shall disturb this hallowed house. I am sent with broom before, To sweep the dust behind the door. [Enter Oberon and Titania, King and Queen of Fairies, with all their train.] OBERON Through the house give glimmering light, By the dead and drowsy fire. Every elf and fairy sprite, Hop as light as bird from brier, And this ditty after me, Sing and dance it trippingly. TITANIA First rehearse your song by rote, To each word a warbling note. Hand in hand, with fairy grace, Will we sing and bless this place. [Oberon leads the Fairies in song and dance.] OBERON Now, until the break of day, Through this house each fairy stray. To the best bride-bed will we, Which by us shall blessed be, And the issue there create Ever shall be fortunate. So shall all the couples three Ever true in loving be, And the blots of Nature's hand Shall not in their issue stand. Never mole, harelip, nor scar, Nor mark prodigious, such as are Despised in nativity, Shall upon their children be. With this field-dew consecrate Every fairy take his gait, And each several chamber bless, Through this palace, with sweet peace. And the owner of it blest, Ever shall in safety rest. Trip away. Make no stay. Meet me all by break of day. [All but Robin exit.] ROBIN If we shadows have offended, Think but this and all is mended: That you have but slumbered here While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream, Gentles, do not reprehend. If you pardon, we will mend. And, as I am an honest Puck, If we have unearned luck Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, We will make amends ere long. Else the Puck a liar call. So good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, And Robin shall restore amends. [He exits.]

All's Well That Ends Well by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== HELEN, a gentlewoman of Rossillion BERTRAM, Count of Rossillion COUNTESS of Rossillion, Bertram's mother In the Countess's household: STEWARD FOOL PAGE PAROLLES, companion to Bertram KING of France LAFEW, a French lord Later Captains in the army of the Duke of Florence: FIRST LORD SECOND LORD Other LORDS in the court of the King of France From the court of the King of France: FIRST GENTLEMAN SECOND GENTLEMAN GENTLEMAN, a "gentle Astringer" FIRST SOLDIER, interpreter The DUKE of Florence A WIDOW of Florence DIANA, the Widow's daughter MARIANA, the Widow's neighbor Attendants, Soldiers, Citizens of Florence, Servants ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter young Bertram Count of Rossillion, his mother the Countess, and Helen, Lord Lafew, all in black.] COUNTESS In delivering my son from me, I bury a second husband. BERTRAM 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, evermore in subjection. LAFEW 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, whose worthiness would stir it up where it wanted rather than lack it where there is such abundance. COUNTESS What hope is there of his Majesty's amendment? LAFEW 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. COUNTESS This young gentlewoman had a father--O, that "had," how sad a passage 'tis!--whose 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. LAFEW How called you the man you speak of, madam? COUNTESS He was famous, sir, in his profession, and it was his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon. LAFEW He was excellent indeed, madam. The King very lately spoke of him admiringly, and mourningly. He was skillful enough to have lived still, if knowledge could be set up against mortality. BERTRAM What is it, my good lord, the King languishes of? LAFEW A fistula, my lord. BERTRAM I heard not of it before. LAFEW I would it were not notorious.--Was this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon? COUNTESS His sole child, my lord, and bequeathed to my overlooking. I have those hopes of her good that her education promises. Her dispositions 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. LAFEW Your commendations, madam, get from her tears. COUNTESS 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season her 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-- HELEN I do affect a sorrow indeed, but I have it too. LAFEW Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living. COUNTESS If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal. BERTRAM Madam, I desire your holy wishes. LAFEW How understand we that? COUNTESS Be thou blessed, 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 Rather in power than use, and keep thy friend Under thy own life's key Be checked for silence, But never taxed for speech. What heaven more will, That thee may furnish and my prayers pluck down, Fall on thy head. [To Lafew.] Farewell, my lord. 'Tis an unseasoned courtier. Good my lord, Advise him. LAFEW He cannot want the best that shall Attend his love. COUNTESS Heaven bless him.--Farewell, Bertram. BERTRAM The best wishes that can be forged in your thoughts be servants to you. [Countess exits.] [To Helen.] Be comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make much of her. LAFEW Farewell, pretty lady. You must hold the credit of your father. [Bertram and Lafew exit.] HELEN 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 favor in 't but Bertram's. 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. Th' ambition in my love thus plagues itself: The hind that would be mated by the lion Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague, To see him every hour, to sit and draw His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls In our heart's table--heart too capable Of every line and trick of his sweet favor. But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy Must sanctify his relics. Who comes here? [Enter Parolles.] One that goes with him. I love him for his sake, And yet I know him a notorious liar, Think him a great way fool, solely a coward. Yet these fixed evils sit so fit in him That they take place when virtue's steely bones Looks bleak i' th' cold wind. Withal, full oft we see Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly. PAROLLES Save you, fair queen. HELEN And you, monarch. PAROLLES No. HELEN And no. PAROLLES Are you meditating on virginity? HELEN 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? PAROLLES Keep him out. HELEN But he assails, and our virginity, though valiant in the defense, yet is weak. Unfold to us some warlike resistance. PAROLLES There is none. Man setting down before you will undermine you and blow you up. HELEN Bless our poor virginity from underminers and blowers-up! Is there no military policy how virgins might blow up men? PAROLLES Virginity being blown down, man will quicklier be blown up. Marry, in blowing him down again, with the breach yourselves made you lose your city. It is not politic in the commonwealth 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. Virginity 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. HELEN I will stand for 't a little, though therefore I die a virgin. PAROLLES There's little can be said in 't. 'Tis against the rule of nature. To speak on the part of virginity is to accuse your mothers, which is most infallible disobedience. He that hangs himself is a virgin; virginity murders itself and should be buried in highways out of all sanctified limit as a desperate offendress against nature. Virginity breeds mites, much like a cheese, consumes itself 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 two, which is a goodly increase, and the principal itself not much the worse. Away with 't! HELEN How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own liking? PAROLLES Let me see. Marry, ill, to like him that ne'er 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 unsuitable, just like the brooch and the toothpick, 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 eats dryly; marry, 'tis a withered pear. It was formerly better, marry, yet 'tis a withered pear. Will you anything with it? HELEN Not my virginity, yet-- There shall your master have a thousand loves, A mother, and a mistress, and a friend, A phoenix, captain, and an enemy, A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign, A counselor, a traitress, and a dear; His humble ambition, proud humility, 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-- PAROLLES What one, i' faith? HELEN That I wish well. 'Tis pity-- PAROLLES What's pity? HELEN That wishing well had not a body in 't Which might be felt, that we, the poorer born, Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes, Might with effects of them follow our friends And show what we alone must think, which never Returns us thanks. [Enter Page.] PAGE Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you. PAROLLES Little Helen, farewell. If I can remember thee, I will think of thee at court. HELEN Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a charitable star. PAROLLES Under Mars, I. HELEN I especially think under Mars. PAROLLES Why under Mars? HELEN The wars hath so kept you under that you must needs be born under Mars. PAROLLES When he was predominant. HELEN When he was retrograde, I think rather. PAROLLES Why think you so? HELEN You go so much backward when you fight. PAROLLES That's for advantage. HELEN So is running away, when fear proposes the safety. But the composition that your valor and fear makes in you is a virtue of a good wing, and I like the wear well. PAROLLES 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 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. [Parolles and Page exit.] HELEN 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, 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 fixed and will not leave me. [She exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Flourish cornets. Enter the King of France with letters, two Lords, and divers Attendants.] KING The Florentines and Senoys are by th' 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 vouched 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, Approved so to your Majesty, may plead For amplest credence. KING He hath armed 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. SECOND LORD It well may serve A nursery to our gentry, who are sick For breathing and exploit. [Enter Bertram, Lafew, and Parolles.] KING What's he comes here? FIRST LORD It is the Count Rossillion, my good lord, Young Bertram. KING Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face. Frank nature, rather curious than in haste, Hath well composed thee. Thy father's moral parts Mayst thou inherit too. Welcome to Paris. BERTRAM 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 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 Today in our young lords; but they may jest Till their own scorn return to them unnoted Ere they can hide their levity in honor. So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were, His equal had awaked them, and his honor, Clock to itself, knew the true minute when Exception bid him speak, and at this time His tongue obeyed his hand. Who were below him He used as creatures of another place And bowed 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, followed well, would demonstrate them now But goers backward. BERTRAM His good remembrance, sir, Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb. So in approof lives not his epitaph As in your royal speech. KING Would I were with him! He would always say-- Methinks I hear him now; his plausive words He scattered 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 Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses All but new things disdain, whose judgments are Mere fathers of their garments, whose constancies Expire before their fashions." This he wished. 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 laborers room. SECOND LORD You're 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, Since the physician at your father's died? He was much famed. BERTRAM 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. BERTRAM Thank your Majesty. [They exit. Flourish.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Countess, Steward, and Fool.] COUNTESS I will now hear. What say you of this gentlewoman? STEWARD Madam, the care I have had to even your content I wish might be found in the calendar of my past endeavors, for then we wound our modesty and make foul the clearness of our deservings when of ourselves we publish them. COUNTESS What does this knave here? [To Fool.] Get you gone, sirrah. The complaints I have heard of you I do not all believe. 'Tis my slowness that I do not, for I know you lack not folly to commit them and have ability enough to make such knaveries yours. FOOL 'Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor fellow. COUNTESS Well, sir. FOOL 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 may. COUNTESS Wilt thou needs be a beggar? FOOL I do beg your good will in this case. COUNTESS In what case? FOOL 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 bairns are blessings. COUNTESS Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry. FOOL My poor body, madam, requires it. I am driven on by the flesh, and he must needs go that the devil drives. COUNTESS Is this all your Worship's reason? FOOL Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, such as they are. COUNTESS May the world know them? FOOL I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you and all flesh and blood are, and indeed I do marry that I may repent. COUNTESS Thy marriage sooner than thy wickedness. FOOL I am out o' friends, madam, and I hope to have friends for my wife's sake. COUNTESS Such friends are thine enemies, knave. FOOL 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 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 jowl horns together like any deer i' th' herd. COUNTESS Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and calumnious knave? FOOL A prophet I, madam, and I speak the truth the next way: [Sings.] For I the ballad will repeat Which men full true shall find: Your marriage comes by destiny; Your cuckoo sings by kind. COUNTESS Get you gone, sir. I'll talk with you more anon. STEWARD May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen come to you. Of her I am to speak. COUNTESS Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her--Helen, I mean. FOOL [sings] "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, Among nine bad if one be good, There's yet one good in ten." COUNTESS What, one good in ten? You corrupt the song, sirrah. FOOL One good woman in ten, madam, which is a purifying o' th' 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 he? An we might have a good woman born but or every blazing star or at an earthquake, 'twould mend the lottery well. A man may draw his heart out ere he pluck one. COUNTESS You'll be gone, sir knave, and do as I command you! FOOL That man should be at woman's command, and yet no hurt done! Though honesty be no Puritan, yet it will do no hurt; it will wear the surplice of humility over the black gown of a big heart. I am going, forsooth. The business is for Helen to come hither. [He exits.] COUNTESS Well, now. STEWARD I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely. COUNTESS 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. STEWARD Madam, I was very late more near her than I think she wished me. Alone she was and did 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; Dian no queen of virgins, that would suffer her poor knight surprised without rescue in the first assault or ransom afterward. This she delivered in the most bitter touch of sorrow that e'er I heard virgin exclaim in, which I held my duty speedily to acquaint you withal, sithence in the loss that may happen it concerns you something to know it. COUNTESS You have discharged this honestly. Keep it to yourself. Many likelihoods informed me of this before, which hung so tott'ring in the balance that I could neither believe nor misdoubt. Pray you leave me. Stall this in your bosom, and I thank you for your honest care. I will speak with you further anon. [Steward exits.] [Enter Helen.] [Aside.] 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 impressed 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. HELEN What is your pleasure, madam? COUNTESS You know, Helen, I am a mother to you. HELEN Mine honorable mistress. COUNTESS Nay, a mother. Why not a mother? When I said "a mother," Methought 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 A native slip to us from foreign seeds. You ne'er oppressed 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 distempered messenger of wet, The many-colored Iris, rounds thine eye? Why? That you are my daughter? HELEN That I am not. COUNTESS I say I am your mother. HELEN Pardon, madam. The Count Rossillion cannot be my brother. I am from humble, he from honored 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. COUNTESS Nor I your mother? HELEN 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 But, I your daughter, he must be my brother? COUNTESS 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 catched 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 To say thou dost not. Therefore tell me true, 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 behaviors 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. HELEN Good madam, pardon me. COUNTESS Do you love my son? HELEN Your pardon, noble mistress. COUNTESS Love you my son? HELEN Do not you love him, madam? COUNTESS 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 appeached. HELEN, [kneeling] 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. 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 I still pour in the waters of my love And lack not to lose still. Thus, Indian-like, Religious in mine error, I adore The sun that looks upon his worshipper But knows of him no more. My dearest madam, Let not your hate encounter with my love For loving where you do; but if yourself, Whose aged honor 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; That seeks not to find that her search implies, But riddle-like lives sweetly where she dies. COUNTESS Had you not lately an intent--speak truly-- To go to Paris? HELEN Madam, I had. COUNTESS Wherefore? Tell true. HELEN, [standing] 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 willed me In heedfull'st reservation to bestow them 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 rendered lost. COUNTESS This was your motive for Paris, was it? Speak. HELEN 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. COUNTESS But think you, Helen, 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 Emboweled of their doctrine have left off The danger to itself? HELEN 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 By th' luckiest stars in heaven; and would your Honor But give me leave to try success, I'd venture The well-lost life of mine on his Grace's cure By such a day, an hour. COUNTESS Dost thou believe 't? HELEN Ay, madam, knowingly. COUNTESS Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave and love, Means and attendants, and my loving greetings To those of mine in court. I'll stay at home And pray God's blessing into thy attempt. Be gone tomorrow, and be sure of this: What I can help thee to thou shalt not miss. [They exit.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Flourish cornets. Enter the King, attended, with divers young Lords, taking leave for the Florentine war; Bertram Count Rossillion, 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-entered 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. 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 honor but to wed it. When The bravest questant shrinks, find what you seek, That fame may cry you loud. I say farewell. FIRST 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 If they demand. Beware of being captives Before you serve. LORDS Our hearts receive your warnings. KING Farewell.--Come hither to me. [The King speaks to Attendants, while Bertram, Parolles, and other Lords come forward.] FIRST LORD, [to Bertram] O my sweet lord, that you will stay behind us! PAROLLES 'Tis not his fault, the spark. SECOND LORD O, 'tis brave wars. PAROLLES Most admirable. I have seen those wars. BERTRAM I am commanded here and kept a coil With "Too young," and "The next year," and "'Tis too early." PAROLLES An thy mind stand to 't, boy, steal away bravely. BERTRAM I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock, Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry Till honor be bought up, and no sword worn But one to dance with. By heaven, I'll steal away! FIRST LORD There's honor in the theft. PAROLLES Commit it, count. SECOND LORD I am your accessory. And so, farewell. BERTRAM I grow to you, and our parting is a tortured body. FIRST LORD Farewell, captain. SECOND LORD Sweet Monsieur Parolles. PAROLLES Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. 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. PAROLLES Mars dote on you for his novices. [Lords exit.] [To Bertram.] What will you do? BERTRAM Stay the King. PAROLLES Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble lords. You have restrained yourself within the list of too cold an adieu. Be more expressive to them, for they wear themselves 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. BERTRAM And I will do so. PAROLLES Worthy fellows, and like to prove most sinewy swordmen. [Bertram and Parolles exit.] [Enter Lafew, to the King.] LAFEW, [kneeling] Pardon, my lord, for me and for my tidings. KING I'll fee thee to stand up. LAFEW, [standing] Then here's a man stands that has brought his pardon. I would you had kneeled, 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 asked thee mercy for 't. LAFEW Good faith, across. But, my good lord, 'tis thus: will you be cured Of your infirmity? KING No. LAFEW 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 sprightly fire and motion, whose simple touch Is powerful to araise King Pippen, nay, To give great Charlemagne a pen in 's hand And write to her a love line. KING What "her" is this? LAFEW Why, Doctor She. My lord, there's one arrived, If you will see her. Now, by my faith and honor, 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 Lafew, Bring in the admiration, that we with thee May spend our wonder too, or take off thine By wond'ring how thou took'st it. LAFEW Nay, I'll fit you, And not be all day neither. [He goes to bring in Helen.] KING Thus he his special nothing ever prologues. [Enter Helen.] LAFEW, [to Helen] Nay, come your ways. KING This haste hath wings indeed. LAFEW 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 That dare leave two together. Fare you well. [He exits.] KING Now, fair one, does your business follow us? HELEN Ay, my good lord, Gerard de Narbon was my father, In what he did profess well found. KING I knew him. HELEN 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 th' only darling, 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 touched With that malignant cause wherein the honor 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 That laboring art can never ransom nature From her inaidible estate. I say we must not So stain our judgment 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. HELEN My duty, then, shall pay me for my pains. I will no more enforce mine office on you, Humbly entreating from your royal thoughts A modest one to bear me back again. KING I cannot give thee less, to be called 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. HELEN 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. So holy writ in babes hath judgment shown When judges have been babes. Great floods have flown From simple sources, and great seas have dried When miracles have by the great'st been denied. Oft expectation fails, and most oft there Where most it promises, and oft it hits Where hope is coldest and despair most shifts. 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. HELEN Inspired merit so by breath is barred. 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 endeavors 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 My art is not past power nor you past cure. KING Art thou so confident? Within what space Hop'st thou my cure? HELEN The greatest 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 quenched her sleepy lamp; 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, Health shall live free, and sickness freely die. KING Upon thy certainty and confidence What dar'st thou venture? HELEN Tax of impudence, A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame; Traduced by odious ballads, my maiden's name Seared otherwise; nay, 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 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 practicer, thy physic I will try, That ministers thine own death if I die. HELEN If I break time or flinch in property Of what I spoke, unpitied let me die, And well deserved. Not helping, death's my fee. But if I help, what do you promise me? KING Make thy demand. HELEN But will you make it even? KING Ay, by my scepter and my hopes of heaven. HELEN Then shalt thou give me with thy kingly hand What husband in thy power I will command. Exempted be from me the arrogance To choose from forth the royal blood of France, My low and humble name to propagate With any branch or image of thy state; But such a one, thy vassal, whom I know Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow. 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 cam'st, how tended on; but rest Unquestioned welcome and undoubted blessed.-- Give me some help here, ho!--If thou proceed As high as word, my deed shall match thy deed. [Flourish. They exit, the King assisted.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Countess and Fool.] COUNTESS Come on, sir. I shall now put you to the height of your breeding. FOOL I will show myself highly fed and lowly taught. I know my business is but to the court. COUNTESS "To the court"? Why, what place make you special when you put off that with such contempt? "But to the court"? FOOL 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 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. COUNTESS Marry, that's a bountiful answer that fits all questions. FOOL It is like a barber's chair that fits all buttocks: the pin-buttock, the quatch-buttock, the brawn-buttock, or any buttock. COUNTESS Will your answer serve fit to all questions? FOOL As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney, as your French crown for your taffety 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. COUNTESS Have you, I say, an answer of such fitness for all questions? FOOL From below your duke to beneath your constable, it will fit any question. COUNTESS It must be an answer of most monstrous size that must fit all demands. FOOL 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. COUNTESS To be young again, if we could! I will be a fool in question, hoping to be the wiser by your answer. I pray you, sir, are you a courtier? FOOL O Lord, sir!--There's a simple putting off. More, more, a hundred of them. COUNTESS Sir, I am a poor friend of yours that loves you. FOOL O Lord, sir!--Thick, thick. Spare not me. COUNTESS I think, sir, you can eat none of this homely meat. FOOL O Lord, sir!--Nay, put me to 't, I warrant you. COUNTESS You were lately whipped, sir, as I think. FOOL O Lord, sir!--Spare not me. COUNTESS 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. FOOL I ne'er had worse luck in my life in my "O Lord, sir!" I see things may serve long but not serve ever. COUNTESS I play the noble huswife with the time to entertain it so merrily with a fool. FOOL O Lord, sir!--Why, there 't serves well again. COUNTESS, [giving him a paper] 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. FOOL Not much commendation to them? COUNTESS Not much employment for you. You understand me. FOOL Most fruitfully. I am there before my legs. COUNTESS Haste you again. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Count Bertram, Lafew, and Parolles.] LAFEW 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, ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge when we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear. PAROLLES Why, 'tis the rarest argument of wonder that hath shot out in our latter times. BERTRAM And so 'tis. LAFEW To be relinquished of the artists-- PAROLLES So I say, both of Galen and Paracelsus. LAFEW Of all the learned and authentic fellows-- PAROLLES Right, so I say. LAFEW That gave him out incurable-- PAROLLES Why, there 'tis. So say I too. LAFEW Not to be helped. PAROLLES Right, as 'twere a man assured of a-- LAFEW Uncertain life and sure death. PAROLLES Just. You say well. So would I have said. LAFEW I may truly say it is a novelty to the world. PAROLLES It is indeed. If you will have it in showing, you shall read it in what-do-you-call there. [He points to a paper in Lafew's hand.] LAFEW [reads] A showing of a heavenly effect in an earthly actor. PAROLLES That's it. I would have said the very same. LAFEW Why, your dolphin is not lustier. 'Fore me, I speak in respect-- PAROLLES Nay, 'tis strange, 'tis very strange; that is the brief and the tedious of it; and he's of a most facinorous spirit that will not acknowledge it to be the-- LAFEW Very hand of heaven. PAROLLES Ay, so I say. LAFEW In a most weak-- PAROLLES And debile minister. Great power, great transcendence, which should indeed give us a further use to be made than alone the recov'ry of the King, as to be-- LAFEW Generally thankful. [Enter King, Helen, and Attendants.] PAROLLES I would have said it. You say well. Here comes the King. LAFEW 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. PAROLLES Mort du vinaigre! Is not this Helen? LAFEW 'Fore God, I think so. KING Go, call before me all the lords in court. [An Attendant exits.] Sit, my preserver, by thy patient's side, And with this healthful hand, whose banished sense Thou hast repealed, a second time receive The confirmation of my promised gift, Which but attends thy naming. [Enter three or four Court 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. Thou hast power to choose, and they none to forsake. HELEN To each of you one fair and virtuous mistress Fall when Love please! Marry, to each but one. LAFEW, [aside] I'd give bay Curtal and his furniture 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. HELEN Gentlemen, Heaven hath through me restored the King to health. ALL We understand it and thank heaven for you. HELEN 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: "We blush that thou shouldst choose; but, be refused, Let the white death sit on thy cheek forever; We'll ne'er come there again." KING Make choice and see. Who shuns thy love shuns all his love in me. HELEN Now, Dian, from thy altar do I fly, And to imperial Love, that god most high, Do my sighs stream. [She addresses her to a Lord.] Sir, will you hear my suit? FIRST COURT LORD And grant it. HELEN Thanks, sir. All the rest is mute. LAFEW, [aside] I had rather be in this choice than throw ambs-ace for my life. HELEN, [to another Lord] The honor, sir, that flames in your fair eyes Before I speak too threat'ningly replies. Love make your fortunes twenty times above Her that so wishes, and her humble love. SECOND COURT LORD No better, if you please. HELEN My wish receive, Which great Love grant, and so I take my leave. LAFEW, [aside] Do all they deny her? An they were sons of mine, I'd have them whipped, or I would send them to th' Turk to make eunuchs of. HELEN, [to another Lord] Be not afraid that I your hand should take. I'll never do you wrong, for your own sake. Blessing upon your vows, and in your bed Find fairer fortune if you ever wed. LAFEW, [aside] These boys are boys of ice; they'll none have her. Sure they are bastards to the English; the French ne'er got 'em. HELEN, [to another Lord] You are too young, too happy, and too good To make yourself a son out of my blood. FOURTH COURT LORD Fair one, I think not so. LAFEW, [aside] There's one grape yet. I am sure thy father drunk wine. But if thou be'st not an ass, I am a youth of fourteen; I have known thee already. HELEN, [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. BERTRAM My wife, my liege? I shall beseech your Highness In such a business give me leave to use The help of mine own eyes. KING Know'st thou not, Bertram, What she has done for me? BERTRAM 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. BERTRAM But follows it, my lord, to bring me down 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, Of color, weight, and heat, poured all together, Would quite confound distinction, yet stands off In differences so mighty. If she be All that is virtuous, save what thou dislik'st-- "A poor physician's daughter"--thou dislik'st Of virtue for the name. But do not so. From lowest place whence virtuous things proceed, The place is dignified by th' doer's deed. Where great additions swell 's, and virtue none, It is a dropsied honor. Good alone 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 honor. That is honor's scorn Which challenges itself as honor's born And is not like the sire. Honors thrive When rather from our acts we them derive Than our foregoers. The mere word's a slave Debauched on every tomb, on every grave A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb Where dust and damned oblivion is the tomb Of honored 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, honor and wealth from me. BERTRAM I cannot love her, nor will strive to do 't. KING Thou wrong'st thyself if thou shouldst strive to choose. HELEN That you are well restored, my lord, I'm glad. Let the rest go. KING My honor'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 honor where We please to have it grow. Check thy contempt; Obey our will, which travails in thy good. Believe not thy disdain, but presently Do thine own fortunes that obedient right Which both thy duty owes and our power claims, Or I will throw thee from my care forever 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. BERTRAM Pardon, my gracious lord, for I submit My fancy to your eyes. When I consider What great creation and what dole of honor 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 'twere born so. KING Take her by the hand, And tell her she is thine, to whom I promise A counterpoise, if not to thy estate, A balance more replete. BERTRAM I take her hand. KING Good fortune and the favor of the King Smile upon this contract, whose ceremony Shall seem expedient on the now-born brief And be performed tonight. The solemn feast Shall more attend upon the coming space, Expecting absent friends. As thou lov'st her Thy love's to me religious; else, does err. [They exit. Parolles and Lafew stay behind, commenting of this wedding.] LAFEW Do you hear, monsieur? A word with you. PAROLLES Your pleasure, sir. LAFEW Your lord and master did well to make his recantation. PAROLLES "Recantation"? My "lord"? My "master"? LAFEW Ay. Is it not a language I speak? PAROLLES A most harsh one, and not to be understood without bloody succeeding. My "master"? LAFEW Are you companion to the Count Rossillion? PAROLLES To any count, to all counts, to what is man. LAFEW To what is count's man. Count's master is of another style. PAROLLES You are too old, sir; let it satisfy you, you are too old. LAFEW I must tell thee, sirrah, I write man, to which title age cannot bring thee. PAROLLES What I dare too well do, I dare not do. LAFEW 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 scarves and the bannerets about thee did manifoldly dissuade me from believing thee a vessel of too great a burden. I have now found thee. When I lose thee again, I care not. Yet art thou good for nothing but taking up, and that thou 'rt scarce worth. PAROLLES Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee-- LAFEW 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. PAROLLES My lord, you give me most egregious indignity. LAFEW Ay, with all my heart, and thou art worthy of it. PAROLLES I have not, my lord, deserved it. LAFEW Yes, good faith, ev'ry dram of it, and I will not bate thee a scruple. PAROLLES Well, I shall be wiser. LAFEW Ev'n as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to pull at a smack o' th' 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 rather my knowledge, that I may say in the default "He is a man I know." PAROLLES My lord, you do me most insupportable vexation. LAFEW 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. [He exits.] PAROLLES Well, thou hast a son shall take this disgrace off me. Scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord! Well, I must be patient; there is no fettering of authority. I'll beat him, by my life, if I can meet him with any convenience, an he were double and double a lord. I'll have no more pity of his age than I would have of--I'll beat him, an if I could but meet him again. [Enter Lafew.] LAFEW Sirrah, your lord and master's married. There's news for you: you have a new mistress. PAROLLES I most unfeignedly beseech your Lordship to make some reservation of your wrongs. He is my good lord; whom I serve above is my master. LAFEW Who? God? PAROLLES Ay, sir. LAFEW 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 honor, if I were but two hours younger, I'd beat thee. Methink'st thou art a general offense, and every man should beat thee. I think thou wast created for men to breathe themselves upon thee. PAROLLES This is hard and undeserved measure, my lord. LAFEW Go to, sir. You were beaten in Italy for picking a kernel out of a pomegranate. You are a vagabond, and no true traveler. You are more saucy with lords and honorable personages than the commission of your birth and virtue gives you heraldry. You are not worth another word; else I'd call you knave. I leave you. [He exits.] PAROLLES Good, very good! It is so, then. Good, very good. Let it be concealed awhile. [Enter Bertram Count Rossillion.] BERTRAM Undone, and forfeited to cares forever! PAROLLES What's the matter, sweetheart? BERTRAM Although before the solemn priest I have sworn, I will not bed her. PAROLLES What, what, sweetheart? BERTRAM O my Parolles, they have married me! I'll to the Tuscan wars and never bed her. PAROLLES France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits the tread of a man's foot. To th' wars! BERTRAM There's letters from my mother. What th' import is I know not yet. PAROLLES Ay, that would be known. To th' wars, my boy, to th' wars! He wears his honor 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. Therefore, to th' war! BERTRAM It shall be so. I'll 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. Wars is no strife To the dark house and the detested wife. PAROLLES Will this capriccio hold in thee? Art sure? BERTRAM Go with me to my chamber, and advise me. I'll send her straight away. Tomorrow I'll to the wars, she to her single sorrow. PAROLLES Why, these balls bound; there's noise in it. 'Tis hard. A young man married is a man that's marred. Therefore away, and leave her bravely. Go. The King has done you wrong, but hush, 'tis so. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Helen with a paper, and Fool.] HELEN My mother greets me kindly. Is she well? FOOL 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' th' world, but yet she is not well. HELEN If she be very well, what does she ail that she's not very well? FOOL Truly, she's very well indeed, but for two things. HELEN What two things? FOOL One, that she's not in heaven, whither God send her quickly; the other, that she's in Earth, from whence God send her quickly. [Enter Parolles.] PAROLLES Bless you, my fortunate lady. HELEN I hope, sir, I have your good will to have mine own good fortunes. PAROLLES You had my prayers to lead them on, and to keep them on have them still.--O my knave, how does my old lady? FOOL So that you had her wrinkles and I her money, I would she did as you say. PAROLLES Why, I say nothing. FOOL 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. PAROLLES Away. Thou 'rt a knave. FOOL 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. PAROLLES Go to. Thou art a witty fool. I have found thee. FOOL Did you find me in yourself, sir, or were you taught to find me? PAROLLES ... FOOL The search, sir, was profitable, and much fool may you find in you, even to the world's pleasure and the increase of laughter. PAROLLES A good knave, i' faith, and well fed. Madam, my lord will go away tonight; A very serious business calls on him. The great prerogative and rite of love, Which as your due time claims, he does acknowledge But puts it off to a compelled restraint, Whose want and whose delay is strewed with sweets, Which they distill now in the curbed time To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy And pleasure drown the brim. HELEN What's his will else? PAROLLES That you will take your instant leave o' th' King And make this haste as your own good proceeding, Strengthened with what apology you think May make it probable need. HELEN What more commands he? PAROLLES That, having this obtained, you presently Attend his further pleasure. HELEN In everything I wait upon his will. PAROLLES I shall report it so. [Parolles exits.] HELEN, [to Fool] I pray you, come, sirrah. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Lafew and Bertram.] LAFEW But I hope your Lordship thinks not him a soldier. BERTRAM Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof. LAFEW You have it from his own deliverance. BERTRAM And by other warranted testimony. LAFEW Then my dial goes not true. I took this lark for a bunting. BERTRAM I do assure you, my lord, he is very great in knowledge and accordingly valiant. LAFEW I have then sinned against his experience and transgressed against his valor, and my state 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 Parolles.] PAROLLES, [to Bertram] These things shall be done, sir. LAFEW, [to Bertram] Pray you, sir, who's his tailor? PAROLLES Sir? LAFEW O, I know him well. Ay, sir, he, sir, 's a good workman, a very good tailor. BERTRAM, [aside to Parolles] Is she gone to the King? PAROLLES She is. BERTRAM Will she away tonight? PAROLLES As you'll have her. BERTRAM I have writ my letters, casketed my treasure, Given order for our horses, and tonight, When I should take possession of the bride, End ere I do begin. LAFEW, [aside] A good traveler 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 with, should be once heard and thrice beaten.-- God save you, captain. BERTRAM, [to Parolles] Is there any unkindness between my lord and you, monsieur? PAROLLES I know not how I have deserved to run into my lord's displeasure. LAFEW You have made shift to run into 't, boots and spurs and all, like him that leapt into the custard; and out of it you'll run again rather than suffer question for your residence. BERTRAM It may be you have mistaken him, my lord. LAFEW And shall do so ever, though I took him at 's prayers. Fare you well, my lord, and believe this of me: there can be no kernel in this light nut. The soul of this man is his clothes. Trust him not in matter of heavy consequence. I have kept of them tame and know their natures.--Farewell, monsieur. I have spoken better of you than you have or will to deserve at my hand, but we must do good against evil. [He exits.] PAROLLES An idle lord, I swear. BERTRAM I think not so. PAROLLES Why, do you not know him? BERTRAM Yes, I do know him well, and common speech Gives him a worthy pass. [Enter Helen.] Here comes my clog. HELEN 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. BERTRAM I shall obey his will. You must not marvel, Helen, at my course, Which holds not color 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 To you that know them not. [Giving her a paper.] This to my mother. 'Twill be two days ere I shall see you, so I leave you to your wisdom. HELEN Sir, I can nothing say But that I am your most obedient servant-- BERTRAM Come, come, no more of that. HELEN And ever shall With true observance seek to eke out that Wherein toward me my homely stars have failed To equal my great fortune. BERTRAM Let that go. My haste is very great. Farewell. Hie home. HELEN Pray, sir, your pardon. BERTRAM Well, what would you say? HELEN 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. BERTRAM What would you have? HELEN Something, and scarce so much; nothing, indeed. I would not tell you what I would, my lord. Faith, yes: Strangers and foes do sunder and not kiss. BERTRAM I pray you stay not, but in haste to horse. HELEN I shall not break your bidding, good my lord.-- Where are my other men?--Monsieur, farewell. [She exits.] BERTRAM Go thou toward home, where I will never come Whilst I can shake my sword or hear the drum.-- Away, and for our flight. PAROLLES Bravely, coraggio! [They exit.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, the two French Lords, with 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. SECOND LORD Good my lord, The reasons of our state I cannot yield 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 guessed. DUKE Be it his pleasure. FIRST LORD But I am sure the younger of our nation, That surfeit on their ease, will day by day Come here for physic. DUKE Welcome shall they be, And all the honors that can fly from us Shall on them settle. You know your places well. When better fall, for your avails they fell. Tomorrow to th' field. [Flourish. They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Countess, with a paper, and Fool.] COUNTESS It hath happened all as I would have had it, save that he comes not along with her. FOOL By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very melancholy man. COUNTESS By what observance, I pray you? FOOL 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. COUNTESS Let me see what he writes and when he means to come. [She opens the letter.] FOOL I have no mind to Isbel since I was at court. Our old lings and our Isbels o' th' country are nothing like your old ling and your Isbels o' th' court. The brains of my Cupid's knocked out, and I begin to love as an old man loves money, with no stomach. COUNTESS What have we here? FOOL E'en that you have there. [He exits.] COUNTESS [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 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: To fly the favors of so good a king, To pluck his indignation on thy head By the misprizing of a maid too virtuous For the contempt of empire. [Enter Fool.] FOOL O madam, yonder is heavy news within, between two soldiers and my young lady. COUNTESS What is the matter? FOOL Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some comfort. Your son will not be killed so soon as I thought he would. COUNTESS Why should he be killed? FOOL 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. [He exits.] [Enter Helen, with a paper, and two Gentlemen.] FIRST GENTLEMAN, [to Countess] Save you, good madam. HELEN Madam, my lord is gone, forever gone. SECOND GENTLEMAN Do not say so. COUNTESS Think upon patience, pray you.--Gentlemen, 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? SECOND GENTLEMAN Madam, he's gone to serve the Duke of Florence. We met him thitherward, for thence we came, And, after some dispatch in hand at court, Thither we bend again. HELEN Look on his letter, madam; here's my passport. [She reads.] When thou canst get the ring upon my finger, which never shall come off, and show me 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. COUNTESS Brought you this letter, gentlemen? SECOND GENTLEMAN Ay, madam, And for the contents' sake are sorry for our pains. COUNTESS 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, And thou art all my child.--Towards Florence is he? SECOND GENTLEMAN Ay, madam. COUNTESS And to be a soldier? SECOND GENTLEMAN Such is his noble purpose, and, believe 't, The Duke will lay upon him all the honor That good convenience claims. COUNTESS Return you thither? FIRST GENTLEMAN Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed. HELEN [reads] Till I have no wife I have nothing in France. 'Tis bitter. COUNTESS Find you that there? HELEN Ay, madam. FIRST GENTLEMAN 'Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply, Which his heart was not consenting to. COUNTESS 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 GENTLEMAN A servant only, and a gentleman Which I have sometime known. COUNTESS Parolles was it not? FIRST GENTLEMAN Ay, my good lady, he. COUNTESS A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness. My son corrupts a well-derived nature With his inducement. FIRST GENTLEMAN Indeed, good lady, The fellow has a deal of that too much Which holds him much to have. COUNTESS You're welcome, gentlemen. I will entreat you when you see my son To tell him that his sword can never win The honor that he loses. More I'll entreat you Written to bear along. SECOND GENTLEMAN We serve you, madam, In that and all your worthiest affairs. COUNTESS Not so, but as we change our courtesies. Will you draw near? [She exits with the Gentlemen.] HELEN "Till I have no wife I have nothing in France." Nothing in France until he has no wife. Thou shalt have none, Rossillion, 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 That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers That ride upon the violent speed of fire, Fly with false aim; move the still-'pearing 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 roared With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere That all the miseries which nature owes Were mine at once. No, come thou home, Rossillion, Whence honor 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 rumor may report my flight To consolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day; For with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away. [She exits.] Scene 3 ======= [Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Bertram Count Rossillion, Drum and Trumpets, Soldiers, Parolles.] DUKE, [to Bertram] The general of our horse thou art, and we, Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence Upon thy promising fortune. BERTRAM Sir, it is A charge too heavy for my strength, but yet We'll strive to bear it for your worthy sake To th' extreme edge of hazard. DUKE Then go thou forth, And Fortune play upon thy prosperous helm As thy auspicious mistress. BERTRAM This very day, Great Mars, I put myself into thy file. Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall prove A lover of thy drum, hater of love. [All exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Countess and Steward, with a paper.] COUNTESS 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. STEWARD [reads the letter] 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 His name with zealous fervor sanctify. His taken labors 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. He is too good and fair for death and me, Whom I myself embrace to set him free. COUNTESS 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, I could have well diverted her intents, Which thus she hath prevented. STEWARD Pardon me, madam. If I had given you this at overnight, She might have been o'erta'en. And yet she writes Pursuit would be but vain. COUNTESS 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. 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. My heart is heavy, and mine age is weak. Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [A tucket afar off. Enter old Widow of Florence, her daughter Diana, and Mariana, with other Citizens.] WIDOW Nay, come, for if they do approach the city, we shall lose all the sight. DIANA They say the French count has done most honorable service. WIDOW It is reported that he has taken their great'st commander, and that with his own hand he slew the Duke's brother. [A trumpet sounds.] We have lost our labor. They are gone a contrary way. Hark, you may know by their trumpets. MARIANA Come, let's return again and suffice ourselves with the report of it.--Well, Diana, take heed of this French earl. The honor of a maid is her name, and no legacy is so rich as honesty. WIDOW, [to Diana] I have told my neighbor how you have been solicited by a gentleman, his companion. MARIANA 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 under. Many a maid hath been seduced by them; and the misery is example that so terrible shows in the wrack of maidenhood cannot for all that dissuade succession, but that they are limed with the twigs that threatens them. I hope I need not to advise you further, but I hope your own grace will keep you where you are, though there were no further danger known but the modesty which is so lost. DIANA You shall not need to fear me. WIDOW I hope so. [Enter Helen as 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 bound? HELEN, [as pilgrim] To Saint Jaques le Grand. Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you? WIDOW At the Saint Francis here beside the port. HELEN, [as pilgrim] Is this the way? [A march afar.] WIDOW Ay, marry, is 't.--Hark you, they come this way.-- 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. HELEN, [as pilgrim] Is it yourself? WIDOW If you shall please so, pilgrim. HELEN, [as pilgrim] I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure. WIDOW You came I think from France? HELEN, [as pilgrim] I did so. WIDOW Here you shall see a countryman of yours That has done worthy service. HELEN, [as pilgrim] His name, I pray you? DIANA The Count Rossillion. Know you such a one? HELEN, [as pilgrim] But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him. His face I know not. DIANA 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? HELEN, [as pilgrim] Ay, surely, mere the truth. I know his lady. DIANA There is a gentleman that serves the Count Reports but coarsely of her. HELEN, [as pilgrim] What's his name? DIANA Monsieur Parolles. HELEN, [as pilgrim] O, I believe with him. 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. DIANA Alas, poor lady, 'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife Of a detesting lord. WIDOW I warrant, good creature, wheresoe'er she is, Her heart weighs sadly. This young maid might do her A shrewd turn if she pleased. HELEN, [as pilgrim] How do you mean? Maybe the amorous count solicits her In the unlawful purpose? WIDOW He does indeed, And brokes with all that can in such a suit Corrupt the tender honor of a maid, But she is armed for him and keeps her guard In honestest defense. MARIANA The gods forbid else! [Drum and Colors. Enter Bertram Count Rossillion, Parolles, and the whole Army.] WIDOW So, now they come. That is Antonio, the Duke's eldest son; That, Escalus. HELEN, [as pilgrim] Which is the Frenchman? DIANA He, That with the plume. 'Tis a most gallant fellow. I would he loved his wife. If he were honester, He were much goodlier. Is 't not a handsome gentleman? HELEN, [as pilgrim] I like him well. DIANA '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. HELEN, [as pilgrim] Which is he? DIANA That jackanapes with scarves. Why is he melancholy? HELEN, [as pilgrim] Perchance he's hurt i' th' battle. PAROLLES Lose our drum? Well. MARIANA He's shrewdly vexed at something. Look, he has spied us. WIDOW, [to Parolles] Marry, hang you. MARIANA, [to Parolles] And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier. [Bertram, Parolles, and the army exit.] WIDOW The troop is passed. Come, pilgrim, I will bring you Where you shall host. Of enjoined penitents There's four or five, to Great Saint Jaques bound, Already at my house. HELEN, [as pilgrim] I humbly thank you. Please it this matron and this gentle maid To eat with us tonight, the charge and thanking Shall be for me. And to requite you further, I will bestow some precepts of this virgin Worthy the note. BOTH We'll take your offer kindly. [They exit.] Scene 6 ======= [Enter Bertram Count Rossillion and the French Lords, as at first.] FIRST LORD Nay, good my lord, put him to 't. Let him have his way. SECOND LORD If your Lordship find him not a hilding, hold me no more in your respect. FIRST LORD On my life, my lord, a bubble. BERTRAM Do you think I am so far deceived in him? FIRST 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-breaker, the owner of no one good quality worthy your Lordship's entertainment. SECOND 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. BERTRAM I would I knew in what particular action to try him. SECOND LORD None better than to let him fetch off his drum, which you hear him so confidently undertake to do. FIRST 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 adversary's 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 fear, offer to betray you and deliver all the intelligence in his power against you, and that with the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never trust my judgment in anything. SECOND 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. Here he comes. [Enter Parolles.] FIRST LORD, [aside to Bertram] O, for the love of laughter, hinder not the honor of his design. Let him fetch off his drum in any hand. BERTRAM, [to Parolles] How now, monsieur? This drum sticks sorely in your disposition. SECOND LORD A pox on 't! Let it go. 'Tis but a drum. PAROLLES 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 and to rend our own soldiers! SECOND LORD That was not to be blamed in the command of the service. It was a disaster of war that Caesar himself could not have prevented if he had been there to command. BERTRAM Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success. Some dishonor we had in the loss of that drum, but it is not to be recovered. PAROLLES It might have been recovered. BERTRAM It might, but it is not now. PAROLLES 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 hic jacet. BERTRAM Why, if you have a stomach, to 't, monsieur! If you think your mystery in stratagem can bring this instrument of honor 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 both speak of it and extend to you what further becomes his greatness, even to the utmost syllable of your worthiness. PAROLLES By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it. BERTRAM But you must not now slumber in it. PAROLLES I'll about it this evening, and I will presently pen down my dilemmas, encourage myself in my certainty, put myself into my mortal preparation; and by midnight look to hear further from me. BERTRAM May I be bold to acquaint his Grace you are gone about it? PAROLLES I know not what the success will be, my lord, but the attempt I vow. BERTRAM I know thou 'rt valiant, and to the possibility of thy soldiership will subscribe for thee. Farewell. PAROLLES I love not many words. [He exits.] FIRST LORD No more than a fish loves water. Is not this a strange fellow, my lord, that so confidently seems to undertake this business which he knows is not to be done, damns himself to do, and dares better be damned than to do 't? SECOND LORD You do not know him, my lord, as we do. Certain it is that he will steal himself into a man's favor and for a week escape a great deal of discoveries, but when you find him out, you have him ever after. BERTRAM Why, do you think he will make no deed at all of this that so seriously he does address himself unto? FIRST LORD None in the world, but return with an invention and clap upon you two or three probable lies. But we have almost embossed him. You shall see his fall tonight; for indeed he is not for your Lordship's respect. SECOND LORD We'll make you some sport with the fox ere we case him. He was first smoked by the old Lord Lafew. When his disguise and he is parted, tell me what a sprat you shall find him, which you shall see this very night. FIRST LORD I must go look my twigs. He shall be caught. BERTRAM Your brother he shall go along with me. FIRST LORD As 't please your Lordship. I'll leave you. [He exits.] BERTRAM Now will I lead you to the house and show you The lass I spoke of. SECOND LORD But you say she's honest. BERTRAM 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' th' wind, Tokens and letters, which she did re-send. And this is all I have done. She's a fair creature. Will you go see her? SECOND LORD With all my heart, my lord. [They exit.] Scene 7 ======= [Enter Helen and Widow.] HELEN 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. WIDOW Though my estate be fall'n, I was well born, Nothing acquainted with these businesses, And would not put my reputation now In any staining act. HELEN 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, By the good aid that I of you shall borrow, Err in bestowing it. WIDOW I should believe you, For you have showed me that which well approves You're great in fortune. HELEN Take this purse of gold, And let me buy your friendly help thus far, Which I will overpay and pay again When I have found it. The Count he woos your daughter, Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty, Resolved to carry her. Let her in fine consent As we'll direct her how 'tis best to bear it. Now his important blood will naught deny That she'll demand. A ring the County wears That downward hath succeeded in his house From son to son some four or five descents Since the first father wore it. This ring he holds In most rich choice. Yet, in his idle fire, To buy his will it would not seem too dear, Howe'er repented after. WIDOW Now I see the bottom of your purpose. HELEN You see it lawful, then. It is no more But that your daughter, ere she seems as won, Desires this ring, appoints him an encounter, In fine, delivers me to fill the time, Herself most chastely absent. After, To marry her, I'll add three thousand crowns To what is passed already. WIDOW I 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 To her unworthiness. It nothing steads us To chide him from our eaves, for he persists As if his life lay on 't. HELEN Why then tonight 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. [They exit.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter one of the French Lords, with five or six other Soldiers in ambush.] 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 SOLDIER Good captain, let me be th' interpreter. LORD Art not acquainted with him? Knows he not thy voice? FIRST SOLDIER No, sir, I warrant you. LORD But what linsey-woolsey hast thou to speak to us again? FIRST SOLDIER E'en such as you speak to me. LORD He must think us some band of strangers i' th' adversary's entertainment. Now, he hath a smack of all neighboring languages. Therefore we must every one be a man of his own fancy, not to know what we speak one to another. So we seem to know is to know straight our purpose: choughs' language, gabble enough and good enough. As for you, interpreter, 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. [They move aside.] [Enter Parolles.] PAROLLES 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 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. LORD, [aside] This is the first truth that e'er thine own tongue was guilty of. PAROLLES 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 purpose? I must give myself some hurts and say I got them in exploit. Yet slight ones will not carry it. 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 Bajazeth's mule if you prattle me into these perils. LORD, [aside] Is it possible he should know what he is, and be that he is? PAROLLES I would the cutting of my garments would serve the turn, or the breaking of my Spanish sword. LORD, [aside] We cannot afford you so. PAROLLES Or the baring of my beard, and to say it was in stratagem. LORD, [aside] 'Twould not do. PAROLLES Or to drown my clothes and say I was stripped. LORD, [aside] Hardly serve. PAROLLES Though I swore I leapt from the window of the citadel-- LORD, [aside] How deep? PAROLLES Thirty fathom. LORD, [aside] Three great oaths would scarce make that be believed. PAROLLES I would I had any drum of the enemy's. I would swear I recovered it. LORD, [aside] You shall hear one anon. PAROLLES A drum, now, of the enemy's-- [Alarum within.] LORD, [advancing] Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo. ALL Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo. [They seize him.] PAROLLES O ransom, ransom! Do not hide mine eyes. [They blindfold him.] FIRST SOLDIER Boskos thromuldo boskos. PAROLLES 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'll discover that which shall undo the Florentine. FIRST SOLDIER Boskos vauvado, I understand thee and can speak thy tongue. Kerelybonto, sir, betake thee to thy faith, for seventeen poniards are at thy bosom. PAROLLES O! FIRST SOLDIER O, pray, pray, pray! Manka reuania dulche. LORD Oscorbidulchos voliuorco. FIRST SOLDIER The General is content to spare thee yet And, hoodwinked as thou art, will lead thee on To gather from thee. Haply thou mayst inform Something to save thy life. PAROLLES O, let me live, And all the secrets of our camp I'll show, Their force, their purposes. Nay, I'll speak that Which you will wonder at. FIRST SOLDIER But wilt thou faithfully? PAROLLES If I do not, damn me. FIRST SOLDIER Acordo linta. Come on, thou art granted space. [He exits with Parolles under guard.] [A short alarum within.] LORD Go tell the Count Rossillion and my brother We have caught the woodcock and will keep him muffled Till we do hear from them. SECOND SOLDIER Captain, I will. LORD He will betray us all unto ourselves. Inform on that. SECOND SOLDIER So I will, sir. LORD Till then I'll keep him dark and safely locked. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Bertram and the maid called Diana.] BERTRAM They told me that your name was Fontibell. DIANA No, my good lord, Diana. BERTRAM 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. DIANA She then was honest. BERTRAM So should you be. DIANA No. My mother did but duty--such, my lord, As you owe to your wife. BERTRAM No more o' that. I prithee do not strive against my vows. I was compelled to her, but I love thee By love's own sweet constraint, and will forever Do thee all rights of service. DIANA 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. BERTRAM How have I sworn! DIANA 'Tis not the many oaths that makes the truth, But the plain single vow that is vowed true. 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 unsealed, At least in my opinion. BERTRAM 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 recovers. Say thou art mine, and ever My love as it begins shall so persever. DIANA I see that men may rope 's in such a snare That we'll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring. BERTRAM I'll lend it thee, my dear, but have no power To give it from me. DIANA Will you not, my lord? BERTRAM It is an honor 'longing to our house, Bequeathed down from many ancestors, Which were the greatest obloquy i' th' world In me to lose. DIANA Mine honor's such a ring. My chastity's the jewel of our house, Bequeathed down from many ancestors, Which were the greatest obloquy i' th' world In me to lose. Thus your own proper wisdom Brings in the champion Honor on my part Against your vain assault. BERTRAM Here, take my ring. My house, mine honor, yea, my life be thine, And I'll be bid by thee. DIANA When midnight comes, knock at my chamber window. I'll order take my mother shall not hear. Now will I charge you in the band of truth, When you have conquered 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 delivered. And on your finger in the night I'll 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. BERTRAM A heaven on Earth I have won by wooing thee. DIANA For which live long to thank both heaven and me! You may so in the end. [He exits.] My mother told me just how he would woo As if she sat in 's heart. She says all men Have the like oaths. He had sworn to marry me When his wife's dead. Therefore I'll 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. [She exits.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter the two French Lords and some two or three Soldiers.] FIRST LORD You have not given him his mother's letter? SECOND 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. SECOND LORD Especially he hath incurred the everlasting displeasure of the King, who had even tuned his bounty to sing happiness to him. I will tell 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. SECOND 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 honor. He hath given her his monumental ring and thinks himself made in the unchaste composition. FIRST LORD Now God delay our rebellion! As we are ourselves, what things are we! SECOND 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. FIRST LORD Is it not meant damnable in us to be trumpeters of our unlawful intents? We shall not, then, have his company tonight? SECOND 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 judgments wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit. SECOND LORD We will not meddle with him till he come, for his presence must be the whip of the other. FIRST LORD In the meantime, what hear you of these wars? SECOND LORD I hear there is an overture of peace. FIRST LORD Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded. SECOND LORD What will Count Rossillion do then? Will he travel higher or return again into France? FIRST LORD I perceive by this demand you are not altogether of his counsel. SECOND 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 from his house. Her pretense 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. SECOND 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 her death. Her death itself, which could not be her office to say is come, was faithfully confirmed by the rector of the place. SECOND LORD Hath the Count all this intelligence? FIRST LORD Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from point, to the full arming of the verity. SECOND LORD I am heartily sorry that he'll be glad of this. FIRST LORD How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our losses. SECOND LORD And how mightily some other times we drown our gain in tears. The great dignity that his valor 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, and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our virtues. [Enter a Servant.] How now? Where's your master? SERVANT 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. SECOND LORD They shall be no more than needful there, if they were more than they can commend. They cannot be too sweet for the King's tartness. [Enter Bertram Count Rossillion.] Here's his Lordship now.--How now, my lord? Is 't not after midnight? BERTRAM I have tonight dispatched sixteen businesses, a month's length apiece. By an abstract of success: I have congeed 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. SECOND LORD If the business be of any difficulty, and this morning your departure hence, it requires haste of your Lordship. BERTRAM I mean the business is not ended as fearing to hear of it hereafter. But shall we have this dialogue between the Fool and the Soldier? Come, bring forth this counterfeit module; has deceived me like a double-meaning prophesier. SECOND LORD Bring him forth. Has sat i' th' stocks all night, poor gallant knave. [Soldiers exit.] BERTRAM No matter. His heels have deserved it in usurping his spurs so long. How does he carry himself? SECOND 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' th' stocks. And what think you he hath confessed? BERTRAM Nothing of me, has he? SECOND LORD His confession is taken, and it shall be 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, blindfolded, with his Interpreter, the First Soldier.] BERTRAM A plague upon him! Muffled! He can say nothing of me. FIRST LORD, [aside to Bertram] Hush, hush. Hoodman comes.--Portotartarossa. FIRST SOLDIER, [to Parolles] He calls for the tortures. What will you say without 'em? PAROLLES I will confess what I know without constraint. If you pinch me like a pasty, I can say no more. FIRST SOLDIER Bosko Chimurcho. FIRST LORD Boblibindo chicurmurco. FIRST SOLDIER You are a merciful general.--Our general bids you answer to what I shall ask you out of a note. PAROLLES And truly, as I hope to live. FIRST SOLDIER, [as if reading a note] First, demand of him how many horse the Duke is strong.--What say you to that? PAROLLES Five or six thousand, but very weak and unserviceable. The troops are all scattered, and the commanders very poor rogues, upon my reputation and credit, and as I hope to live. FIRST SOLDIER Shall I set down your answer so? PAROLLES Do. I'll take the Sacrament on 't, how and which way you will. BERTRAM, [aside] All's one to him. What a past-saving slave is this! FIRST LORD, [aside to Bertram] You're deceived, my lord. This is Monsieur Parolles, the gallant militarist--that 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. SECOND LORD, [aside] I will never trust a man again for keeping his sword clean, nor believe he can have everything in him by wearing his apparel neatly. FIRST SOLDIER, [to Parolles] Well, that's set down. PAROLLES "Five or six thousand horse," I said--I will say true--"or thereabouts" set down, for I'll speak truth. FIRST LORD, [aside] He's very near the truth in this. BERTRAM, [aside] But I con him no thanks for 't, in the nature he delivers it. PAROLLES "Poor rogues," I pray you say. FIRST SOLDIER Well, that's set down. PAROLLES I humbly thank you, sir. A truth's a truth. The rogues are marvelous poor. FIRST SOLDIER, [as if reading a note] Demand of him of what strength they are o' foot.--What say you to that? PAROLLES By my troth, sir, if I were to live but this present hour, I will tell true. Let me see: Spurio a hundred and fifty, Sebastian so many, Corambus so many, Jaques so many; Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodowick and Gratii, two hundred fifty each; mine own company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two hundred 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 cassocks lest they shake themselves to pieces. BERTRAM, [aside] What shall be done to him? FIRST LORD, [aside] Nothing but let him have thanks. [(Aside to First Soldier.)] Demand of him my condition and what credit I have with the Duke. FIRST SOLDIER, [to Parolles] Well, that's set down. [Pretending to read:] You shall demand of him whether one Captain Dumaine be i' th' camp, a Frenchman; what his reputation is with the Duke, what his valor, honesty, and expertness in wars; or whether he thinks it were 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? PAROLLES I beseech you let me answer to the particular of the inter'gatories. Demand them singly. FIRST SOLDIER Do you know this Captain Dumaine? PAROLLES I know him. He 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. BERTRAM, [aside to First Lord] Nay, by your leave, hold your hands, though I know his brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls. FIRST SOLDIER Well, is this captain in the Duke of Florence's camp? PAROLLES Upon my knowledge he is, and lousy. FIRST LORD, [aside to Bertram] Nay, look not so upon me. We shall hear of your Lordship anon. FIRST SOLDIER What is his reputation with the Duke? PAROLLES The Duke knows him for no other but a poor officer of mine, and writ to me this other day to turn him out o' th' band. I think I have his letter in my pocket. FIRST SOLDIER Marry, we'll search. [They search Parolles' pockets.] PAROLLES In good sadness, I do not know. Either it is there, or it is upon a file with the Duke's other letters in my tent. FIRST SOLDIER Here 'tis; here's a paper. Shall I read it to you? PAROLLES I do not know if it be it or no. BERTRAM, [aside] Our interpreter does it well. FIRST LORD, [aside] Excellently. FIRST SOLDIER [reads] Dian, the Count's a fool and full of gold-- PAROLLES 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 Rossillion, a foolish idle boy, but for all that very ruttish. I pray you, sir, put it up again. FIRST SOLDIER Nay, I'll read it first, by your favor. PAROLLES My meaning in 't, I protest, was very honest in the behalf of the maid, 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. BERTRAM, [aside] Damnable both-sides rogue! FIRST SOLDIER [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. 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. BERTRAM, [aside] He shall be whipped through the army with this rhyme in 's forehead. SECOND LORD, [aside] This is your devoted friend, sir, the manifold linguist and the armipotent soldier. BERTRAM, [aside] I could endure anything before but a cat, and now he's a cat to me. FIRST SOLDIER, [to Parolles] I perceive, sir, by our general's looks we shall be fain to hang you. PAROLLES My life, sir, in any case! Not that I am afraid to die, but that, my offenses being many, I would repent out the remainder of nature. Let me live, sir, in a dungeon, i' th' stocks, or anywhere, so I may live. FIRST SOLDIER We'll see what may be done, so you confess freely. Therefore once more to this Captain Dumaine: you have answered to his reputation with the Duke, and to his valor. What is his honesty? PAROLLES 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 he will be swine-drunk, and in his sleep he does little harm, save to his bedclothes 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 everything that an honest man should not have; what an honest man should have, he has nothing. FIRST LORD, [aside] I begin to love him for this. BERTRAM, [aside] For this description of thine honesty? A pox upon him! For me, he's more and more a cat. FIRST SOLDIER What say you to his expertness in war? PAROLLES 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 honor to be the officer at a place there called Mile End, to instruct for the doubling of files. I would do the man what honor I can, but of this I am not certain. FIRST LORD, [aside] He hath out-villained villainy so far that the rarity redeems him. BERTRAM, [aside] A pox on him! He's a cat still. FIRST SOLDIER His qualities being at this poor price, I need not to ask you if gold will corrupt him to revolt. PAROLLES Sir, for a cardecu he will sell the fee-simple of his salvation, the inheritance of it, and cut th' entail from all remainders, and a perpetual succession for it perpetually. FIRST SOLDIER What's his brother, the other Captain Dumaine? SECOND LORD, [aside] Why does he ask him of me? FIRST SOLDIER What's he? PAROLLES E'en a crow o' th' 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 SOLDIER If your life be saved, will you undertake to betray the Florentine? PAROLLES Ay, and the captain of his horse, Count Rossillion. FIRST SOLDIER I'll whisper with the General and know his pleasure. PAROLLES, [aside] I'll 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 SOLDIER There is no remedy, sir, but you must die. The General says you that have so traitorously 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. PAROLLES O Lord, sir, let me live, or let me see my death! FIRST SOLDIER That shall you, and take your leave of all your friends. [He removes the blindfold.] So, look about you. Know you any here? BERTRAM Good morrow, noble captain. SECOND LORD God bless you, Captain Parolles. FIRST LORD God save you, noble captain. SECOND LORD Captain, what greeting will you to my Lord Lafew? 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 Rossillion? An I were not a very coward, I'd compel it of you. But fare you well. [Bertram and Lords exit.] FIRST SOLDIER You are undone, captain--all but your scarf; that has a knot on 't yet. PAROLLES Who cannot be crushed with a plot? FIRST SOLDIER If you could find out a country where but women were that had received so much shame, you might begin an impudent nation. Fare you well, sir. I am for France too. We shall speak of you there. [He exits.] PAROLLES Yet am I thankful. If my heart were great, 'Twould burst at this. Captain I'll 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 That every braggart shall be found an ass. Rust, sword; cool, blushes; and Parolles live Safest in shame. Being fooled, by fool'ry thrive. There's place and means for every man alive. I'll after them. [He exits.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Helen, Widow, and Diana.] HELEN That you may well perceive I have not wronged 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 informed His Grace is at Marseilles, to which place We have convenient convoy. You must know I am supposed dead. The army breaking, My husband hies him home, where, heaven aiding And by the leave of my good lord the King, We'll be before our welcome. WIDOW Gentle madam, You never had a servant to whose trust Your business was more welcome. HELEN Nor you, mistress, Ever a friend whose thoughts more truly labor 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 And helper to a husband. But O, strange men, That can such sweet use make of what they hate When saucy trusting of the cozened 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. DIANA Let death and honesty Go with your impositions, I am yours Upon your will to suffer. HELEN Yet, I pray you-- 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 wagon 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. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Fool, Countess, and Lafew.] LAFEW No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipped-taffeta fellow there, whose villainous saffron would have made all the unbaked and doughy youth of a nation in his color. 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. COUNTESS 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 partaken of my flesh and cost me the dearest groans of a mother, I could not have owed her a more rooted love. LAFEW 'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady. We may pick a thousand salads ere we light on such another herb. FOOL Indeed, sir, she was the sweet marjoram of the salad, or rather the herb of grace. LAFEW They are not herbs, you knave. They are nose-herbs. FOOL I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir. I have not much skill in grass. LAFEW Whether dost thou profess thyself, a knave or a fool? FOOL A fool, sir, at a woman's service, and a knave at a man's. LAFEW Your distinction? FOOL I would cozen the man of his wife and do his service. LAFEW So you were a knave at his service indeed. FOOL And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, to do her service. LAFEW I will subscribe for thee, thou art both knave and fool. FOOL At your service. LAFEW No, no, no. FOOL Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve as great a prince as you are. LAFEW Who's that, a Frenchman? FOOL Faith, sir, he has an English name, but his phys'nomy is more hotter in France than there. LAFEW What prince is that? FOOL The black prince, sir, alias the prince of darkness, alias the devil. LAFEW, [giving him money] Hold thee, there's my purse. I give thee not this to suggest thee from thy master thou talk'st of. Serve him still. FOOL I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a great fire, and the master I speak of ever 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'll be for the flow'ry way that leads to the broad gate and the great fire. LAFEW Go thy ways. I begin to be aweary of thee. And I tell thee so before because I would not fall out with thee. Go thy ways. Let my horses be well looked to, without any tricks. FOOL If I put any tricks upon 'em, sir, they shall be jades' tricks, which are their own right by the law of nature. [He exits.] LAFEW A shrewd knave and an unhappy. COUNTESS 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. LAFEW 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 your Ladyship like it? COUNTESS With very much content, my lord, and I wish it happily effected. LAFEW His Highness comes post from Marseilles, of as able body as when he numbered thirty. He will be here tomorrow, or I am deceived by him that in such intelligence hath seldom failed. COUNTESS It rejoices me that, I hope, I shall see him ere I die. I have letters that my son will be here tonight. I shall beseech your Lordship to remain with me till they meet together. LAFEW Madam, I was thinking with what manners I might safely be admitted. COUNTESS You need but plead your honorable privilege. LAFEW Lady, of that I have made a bold charter. But I thank my God it holds yet. [Enter Fool.] FOOL 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 cheek of two pile and a half, but his right cheek is worn bare. LAFEW A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good liv'ry of honor. So belike is that. FOOL But it is your carbonadoed face. LAFEW Let us go see your son, I pray you. I long to talk with the young noble soldier. FOOL 'Faith, there's a dozen of 'em, with delicate fine hats, and most courteous feathers which bow the head and nod at every man. [They exit.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Helen, Widow, and Diana, with two Attendants.] HELEN 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, Be bold you do so grow in my requital As nothing can unroot you. [Enter a Gentleman, a gentle Astringer.] In happy time! This man may help me to his Majesty's ear, If he would spend his power.--God save you, sir. GENTLEMAN And you. HELEN Sir, I have seen you in the court of France. GENTLEMAN I have been sometimes there. HELEN I do presume, sir, that you are not fall'n 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. GENTLEMAN What's your will? HELEN, [taking out a paper] That it will please you To give this poor petition to the King And aid me with that store of power you have To come into his presence. GENTLEMAN The King's not here. HELEN Not here, sir? GENTLEMAN Not indeed. He hence removed last night, and with more haste Than is his use. WIDOW Lord, how we lose our pains! HELEN All's well that ends well yet, Though time seem so adverse and means unfit.-- I do beseech you, whither is he gone? GENTLEMAN Marry, as I take it, to Rossillion, Whither I am going. HELEN, [giving him the paper] I do beseech you, sir, Since you are like to see the King before me, Commend the paper to his gracious hand, Which I presume shall render you no blame But rather make you thank your pains for it. I will come after you with what good speed Our means will make us means. GENTLEMAN This I'll do for you. HELEN And you shall find yourself to be well thanked Whate'er falls more. We must to horse again.-- Go, go, provide. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Fool and Parolles.] PAROLLES, [holding out a paper] Good Monsieur Lavatch, give my lord Lafew 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 somewhat strong of her strong displeasure. FOOL Truly, Fortune's displeasure is but sluttish if it smell so strongly as thou speak'st of. I will henceforth eat no fish of Fortune's butt'ring. Prithee, allow the wind. PAROLLES Nay, you need not to stop your nose, sir. I spake but by a metaphor. FOOL Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink I will stop my nose, or against any man's metaphor. Prithee, get thee further. PAROLLES Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper. FOOL Foh! Prithee, stand away. A paper from Fortune's close-stool, to give to a nobleman! [Enter Lafew.] Look, here he comes himself.--Here is a purr of Fortune's, sir, or of Fortune's cat--but not a musk-cat--that has fall'n 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 smiles of comfort, and leave him to your Lordship. [He exits.] PAROLLES My lord, I am a man whom Fortune hath cruelly scratched. LAFEW And what would you have me to do? 'Tis 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 cardecu for you. Let the justices make you and Fortune friends. I am for other business. PAROLLES I beseech your Honor to hear me one single word. LAFEW You beg a single penny more. Come, you shall ha 't. Save your word. PAROLLES My name, my good lord, is Parolles. LAFEW You beg more than a word, then. Cock's my passion; give me your hand. How does your drum? PAROLLES O my good lord, you were the first that found me. LAFEW Was I, in sooth? And I was the first that lost thee. PAROLLES It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some grace, for you did bring me out. LAFEW Out upon thee, knave! Dost thou put upon me at once both the office of God and the devil? One brings thee in grace, and the other brings thee out. [Trumpets sound.] The King's coming. I know by his trumpets. Sirrah, inquire further after me. I had talk of you last night. Though you are a fool and a knave, you shall eat. Go to, follow. PAROLLES I praise God for you. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Flourish. Enter King, Countess, Lafew, 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, lacked the sense to know Her estimation home. COUNTESS 'Tis past, my liege, And I beseech your Majesty to make it Natural rebellion done i' th' blade of youth, When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force, O'erbears it and burns on. KING My honored lady, I have forgiven and forgotten all, Though my revenges were high bent upon him And watched the time to shoot. LAFEW This I must say-- But first I beg my pardon: the young lord Did to his Majesty, his mother, and his lady Offense 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 scorned to serve Humbly called mistress. KING Praising what is lost Makes the remembrance dear. Well, call him hither. We are reconciled, and the first view shall kill All repetition. Let him not ask our pardon. The nature of his great offense is dead, And deeper than oblivion we do bury Th' incensing relics of it. Let him approach A stranger, no offender, and inform him So 'tis our will he should. GENTLEMAN I shall, my liege. [He exits.] KING What says he to your daughter? Have you spoke? LAFEW All that he is hath reference to your Highness. KING Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent me That sets him high in fame. [Enter Count Bertram.] LAFEW He looks well on 't. 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. BERTRAM My high-repented blames, Dear sovereign, pardon to me. KING All is whole. 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 Th' inaudible and noiseless foot of time Steals ere we can effect them. You remember The daughter of this lord? BERTRAM 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 warped the line of every other favor, Scorned a fair color or expressed it stol'n, 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 offense, Crying "That's good that's gone!" Our rash faults Make trivial price of serious things we have, 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. The main consents are had, and here we'll stay To see our widower's second marriage day. COUNTESS Which better than the first, O dear heaven, bless, Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cesse! LAFEW Come on, my son, in whom my house's name Must be digested, give a favor from you To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter, That she may quickly come. [Bertram gives him a ring.] By my old beard And ev'ry 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. BERTRAM Hers it was not. KING Now, pray you, let me see it, for mine eye, While I was speaking, oft was fastened to 't. [Lafew passes the ring to the King.] 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. [To Bertram.] Had you that craft to reave her Of what should stead her most? BERTRAM My gracious sovereign, Howe'er it pleases you to take it so, The ring was never hers. COUNTESS Son, on my life, I have seen her wear it, and she reckoned it At her life's rate. LAFEW I am sure I saw her wear it. BERTRAM You are deceived, my lord. She never saw it. In Florence was it from a casement thrown me, Wrapped in a paper which contained the name Of her that threw it. Noble she was, and thought I stood ungaged, but when I had subscribed To mine own fortune and informed her fully I could not answer in that course of honor As she had made the overture, she ceased In heavy satisfaction and would never Receive the ring again. KING Plutus himself, That knows the tinct and multiplying med'cine, 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 called the saints to surety That she would never put it from her finger Unless she gave it to yourself in bed, Where you have never come, or sent it us Upon her great disaster. BERTRAM She never saw it. KING Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine honor, And mak'st conjectural fears to come into me Which I would fain shut out. If it should prove That thou art so inhuman--'twill not prove so, And yet I know not. Thou didst hate 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. My forepast proofs, howe'er the matter fall, Shall tax my fears of little vanity, Having vainly feared too little. Away with him. We'll sift this matter further. BERTRAM 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. [He exits, under guard.] KING I am wrapped in dismal thinkings. [Enter a Gentleman.] GENTLEMAN Gracious sovereign, Whether I have been to blame or no, I know not. [He gives the King a paper.] Here's a petition from a Florentine Who hath for four or five removes come short To tender it herself. I undertook it, Vanquished 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, he won me. Now is the Count Rossillion a widower, his vows are forfeited to me and my honor'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. LAFEW I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll for this. I'll none of him. KING The heavens have thought well on thee, Lafew, To bring forth this discov'ry.--Seek these suitors. Go speedily, and bring again the Count. [Gentleman and Attendants exit.] I am afeard the life of Helen, lady, Was foully snatched. COUNTESS Now justice on the doers! [Enter Bertram under guard.] KING I wonder, sir, since 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? DIANA I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine, Derived from the ancient Capilet. My suit, as I do understand, you know And therefore know how far I may be pitied. WIDOW I am her mother, sir, whose age and honor Both suffer under this complaint we bring, And both shall cease without your remedy. KING Come hither, count. Do you know these women? BERTRAM My lord, I neither can nor will deny But that I know them. Do they charge me further? DIANA Why do you look so strange upon your wife? BERTRAM She's none of mine, my lord. DIANA If you shall marry, You give away this hand, and that is mine; 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. LAFEW, [to Bertram] Your reputation comes too short for my daughter. You are no husband for her. BERTRAM, [to the King] My lord, this is a fond and desp'rate creature Whom sometime I have laughed with. Let your Highness Lay a more noble thought upon mine honor 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 honor Than in my thought it lies. DIANA Good my lord, Ask him upon his oath if he does think He had not my virginity. KING What sayst thou to her? BERTRAM She's impudent, my lord, And was a common gamester to the camp. DIANA He does me wrong, my lord. If I were so, He might have bought me at a common price. Do not believe him. O, behold this ring, Whose high respect and rich validity Did lack a parallel. Yet for all that He gave it to a commoner o' th' camp, If I be one. COUNTESS He blushes, and 'tis hit. Of six preceding ancestors that gem, Conferred by testament to th' sequent issue, Hath it been owed and worn. This is his wife. That ring's a thousand proofs. KING, [to Diana] Methought you said You saw one here in court could witness it. DIANA I did, my lord, but loath am to produce So bad an instrument. His name's Parolles. LAFEW I saw the man today, if man he be. KING Find him, and bring him hither. [Attendant exits.] BERTRAM What of him? He's quoted for a most perfidious slave, With all the spots o' th' world taxed and debauched, Whose nature sickens but to speak a truth. Am I or that or this for what he'll utter, That will speak anything? KING She hath that ring of yours. BERTRAM I think she has. Certain it is I liked her And boarded her i' th' 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. DIANA I must be patient. You that have turned off a first so noble wife May justly diet me. 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. BERTRAM I have it not. KING, [to Diana] What ring was yours, I pray you? DIANA Sir, much like the same upon your finger. KING Know you this ring? This ring was his of late. DIANA And this was it I gave him, being abed. KING The story, then, goes false you threw it him Out of a casement? DIANA I have spoke the truth. [Enter Parolles.] BERTRAM My lord, I do confess the ring was hers. KING You boggle shrewdly. Every feather starts you.-- Is this the man you speak of? DIANA 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? PAROLLES So please your Majesty, my master hath been an honorable gentleman. Tricks he hath had in him which gentlemen have. KING Come, come, to th' purpose. Did he love this woman? PAROLLES Faith, sir, he did love her, but how? KING How, I pray you? PAROLLES He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves a woman. KING How is that? PAROLLES He loved her, sir, and loved her not. KING As thou art a knave and no knave. What an equivocal companion is this! PAROLLES I am a poor man, and at your Majesty's command. LAFEW He's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty orator. DIANA Do you know he promised me marriage? PAROLLES Faith, I know more than I'll speak. KING But wilt thou not speak all thou know'st? PAROLLES Yes, so please your Majesty. I did go between them, as I said; but more than that he loved her, for indeed he was mad for her, and talked of Satan and of limbo and of furies and I know not what. Yet I was in that credit with them at that time, that I knew of their going to bed and of other motions, as promising her marriage, and things 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. Therefore stand aside. [To Diana.] This ring you say was yours? DIANA Ay, my good lord. KING Where did you buy it? Or who gave it you? DIANA It was not given me, nor I did not buy it. KING Who lent it you? DIANA It was not lent me neither. KING Where did you find it then? DIANA I found it not. KING If it were yours by none of all these ways, How could you give it him? DIANA I never gave it him. LAFEW 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. DIANA It might be yours or hers for aught I know. KING, [to Attendants] Take her away. I do not like her now. To prison with her, and away with him.-- Unless thou tell'st me where thou hadst this ring, Thou diest within this hour. DIANA I'll never tell you. KING Take her away. DIANA I'll put in bail, my liege. KING I think thee now some common customer. DIANA, [to Bertram] By Jove, if ever I knew man, 'twas you. KING Wherefore hast thou accused him all this while? DIANA Because he's guilty and he is not guilty. He knows I am no maid, and he'll swear to 't. I'll swear I am a maid, and he knows not. Great king, I am no strumpet. By my life, I am either maid or else this old man's wife. KING She does abuse our ears. To prison with her. DIANA Good mother, fetch my bail. [Widow exits.] Stay, royal sir. The jeweler 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 harmed 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. So there's my riddle: one that's dead is quick. And now behold the meaning. [Enter Helen and Widow.] KING Is there no exorcist Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes? Is 't real that I see? HELEN No, my good lord, 'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see, The name and not the thing. BERTRAM Both, both. O, pardon! HELEN 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. [She takes out a paper.] This it says: When from my finger you can get this ring And are by me with child, etc. This is done. Will you be mine now you are doubly won? BERTRAM If she, my liege, can make me know this clearly, I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly. HELEN If it appear not plain and prove untrue, Deadly divorce step between me and you.-- O my dear mother, do I see you living? LAFEW Mine eyes smell onions. I shall weep anon.-- [To Parolles.] Good Tom Drum, lend me a handkercher. So, I thank thee. Wait on me home. I'll make sport with thee. Let thy courtesies alone. They are scurvy ones. KING Let us from point to point this 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, The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet. [Flourish.] EPILOGUE ======== 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 strift to please you, day exceeding day. Ours be your patience, then, and yours our parts. Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts. [All exit.]

Antony and Cleopatra by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== ANTONY, a triumvir of Rome CLEOPATRA, Queen of Egypt OCTAVIUS CAESAR, a triumvir of Rome OCTAVIA, sister to Caesar, later wife to Antony LEPIDUS, a triumvir of Rome ENOBARBUS, also called DOMITIUS Accompanying Antony in Egypt and elsewhere: VENTIDIUS SILIUS EROS CANIDIUS SCARUS DERCETUS DEMETRIUS PHILO A SCHOOLMASTER, Antony's AMBASSADOR to Caesar Serving in Cleopatra's court: CHARMIAN IRAS ALEXAS MARDIAN, a Eunuch SELEUCUS, Cleopatra's treasurer DIOMEDES Supporting and accompanying Caesar: MAECENAS AGRIPPA TAURUS THIDIAS DOLABELLA GALLUS PROCULEIUS SEXTUS POMPEIUS, also called POMPEY MENAS MENECRATES VARRIUS MESSENGERS SOLDIERS SENTRIES GUARDSMEN A SOOTHSAYER SERVANTS A BOY A CAPTAIN AN EGYPTIAN A COUNTRYMAN Ladies, Eunuchs, Captains, Officers, Soldiers, Attendants, Servants (Lamprius, Rannius, Lucillius: mute characters named in the opening stage direction to 1.2) ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Demetrius and Philo.] PHILO Nay, but this dotage of our general's O'erflows the measure. Those his goodly eyes, That o'er the files and musters of the war Have glowed like plated Mars, now bend, now turn The office and devotion of their view Upon a tawny front. His captain's heart, Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst The buckles on his breast, reneges all temper And is become the bellows and the fan To cool a gypsy's lust. [Flourish. Enter Antony, Cleopatra, her Ladies, the Train, with Eunuchs fanning her.] Look where they come. Take but good note, and you shall see in him The triple pillar of the world transformed Into a strumpet's fool. Behold and see. CLEOPATRA If it be love indeed, tell me how much. ANTONY There's beggary in the love that can be reckoned. CLEOPATRA I'll set a bourn how far to be beloved. ANTONY Then must thou needs find out new heaven, new Earth. [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER News, my good lord, from Rome. ANTONY Grates me, the sum. CLEOPATRA Nay, hear them, Antony. Fulvia perchance is angry. Or who knows If the scarce-bearded Caesar have not sent His powerful mandate to you: "Do this, or this; Take in that kingdom, and enfranchise that. Perform 't, or else we damn thee." ANTONY How, my love? CLEOPATRA Perchance? Nay, and most like. You must not stay here longer; your dismission Is come from Caesar. Therefore hear it, Antony. Where's Fulvia's process? Caesar's, I would say-- both? Call in the messengers. As I am Egypt's queen, Thou blushest, Antony, and that blood of thine Is Caesar's homager; else so thy cheek pays shame When shrill-tongued Fulvia scolds. The messengers! ANTONY Let Rome in Tiber melt and the wide arch Of the ranged empire fall. Here is my space. Kingdoms are clay. Our dungy earth alike Feeds beast as man. The nobleness of life Is to do thus; when such a mutual pair And such a twain can do 't, in which I bind, On pain of punishment, the world to weet We stand up peerless. CLEOPATRA Excellent falsehood! Why did he marry Fulvia and not love her? I'll seem the fool I am not. Antony Will be himself. ANTONY But stirred by Cleopatra. Now for the love of Love and her soft hours, Let's not confound the time with conference harsh. There's not a minute of our lives should stretch Without some pleasure now. What sport tonight? CLEOPATRA Hear the ambassadors. ANTONY Fie, wrangling queen, Whom everything becomes--to chide, to laugh, To weep; whose every passion fully strives To make itself, in thee, fair and admired! No messenger but thine, and all alone Tonight we'll wander through the streets and note The qualities of people. Come, my queen, Last night you did desire it. [To the Messenger.] Speak not to us. [Antony and Cleopatra exit with the Train.] DEMETRIUS Is Caesar with Antonius prized so slight? PHILO Sir, sometimes when he is not Antony He comes too short of that great property Which still should go with Antony. DEMETRIUS I am full sorry That he approves the common liar who Thus speaks of him at Rome; but I will hope Of better deeds tomorrow. Rest you happy! [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Enobarbus, Lamprius, a Soothsayer, Rannius, Lucillius, Charmian, Iras, Mardian the Eunuch, Alexas, and Servants.] CHARMIAN Lord Alexas, sweet Alexas, most anything Alexas, almost most absolute Alexas, where's the soothsayer that you praised so to th' Queen? O, that I knew this husband which you say must charge his horns with garlands! ALEXAS Soothsayer! SOOTHSAYER Your will? CHARMIAN Is this the man?--Is 't you, sir, that know things? SOOTHSAYER In nature's infinite book of secrecy A little I can read. ALEXAS, [to Charmian] Show him your hand. ENOBARBUS, [to Servants] Bring in the banquet quickly, wine enough Cleopatra's health to drink. CHARMIAN, [giving her hand to the Soothsayer] Good sir, give me good fortune. SOOTHSAYER I make not, but foresee. CHARMIAN Pray then, foresee me one. SOOTHSAYER You shall be yet far fairer than you are. CHARMIAN He means in flesh. IRAS No, you shall paint when you are old. CHARMIAN Wrinkles forbid! ALEXAS Vex not his prescience. Be attentive. CHARMIAN Hush. SOOTHSAYER You shall be more beloving than beloved. CHARMIAN I had rather heat my liver with drinking. ALEXAS Nay, hear him. CHARMIAN Good now, some excellent fortune! Let me be married to three kings in a forenoon and widow them all. Let me have a child at fifty to whom Herod of Jewry may do homage. Find me to marry me with Octavius Caesar, and companion me with my mistress. SOOTHSAYER You shall outlive the lady whom you serve. CHARMIAN O, excellent! I love long life better than figs. SOOTHSAYER You have seen and proved a fairer former fortune Than that which is to approach. CHARMIAN Then belike my children shall have no names. Prithee, how many boys and wenches must I have? SOOTHSAYER If every of your wishes had a womb, And fertile every wish, a million. CHARMIAN Out, fool! I forgive thee for a witch. ALEXAS You think none but your sheets are privy to your wishes. CHARMIAN, [to Soothsayer] Nay, come. Tell Iras hers. ALEXAS We'll know all our fortunes. ENOBARBUS Mine, and most of our fortunes tonight, shall be--drunk to bed. IRAS, [giving her hand to the Soothsayer] There's a palm presages chastity, if nothing else. CHARMIAN E'en as the o'erflowing Nilus presageth famine. IRAS Go, you wild bedfellow, you cannot soothsay. CHARMIAN Nay, if an oily palm be not a fruitful prognostication, I cannot scratch mine ear.--Prithee tell her but a workaday fortune. SOOTHSAYER Your fortunes are alike. IRAS But how, but how? Give me particulars. SOOTHSAYER I have said. IRAS Am I not an inch of fortune better than she? CHARMIAN Well, if you were but an inch of fortune better than I, where would you choose it? IRAS Not in my husband's nose. CHARMIAN Our worser thoughts heavens mend. Alexas-- come, his fortune, his fortune! O, let him marry a woman that cannot go, sweet Isis, I beseech thee, and let her die, too, and give him a worse, and let worse follow worse, till the worst of all follow him laughing to his grave, fiftyfold a cuckold. Good Isis, hear me this prayer, though thou deny me a matter of more weight, good Isis, I beseech thee! IRAS Amen, dear goddess, hear that prayer of the people. For, as it is a heartbreaking to see a handsome man loose-wived, so it is a deadly sorrow to behold a foul knave uncuckolded. Therefore, dear Isis, keep decorum and fortune him accordingly. CHARMIAN Amen. ALEXAS Lo now, if it lay in their hands to make me a cuckold, they would make themselves whores but they'd do 't. ENOBARBUS Hush, here comes Antony. CHARMIAN Not he. The Queen. [Enter Cleopatra.] CLEOPATRA Saw you my lord? ENOBARBUS No, lady. CLEOPATRA Was he not here? CHARMIAN No, madam. CLEOPATRA He was disposed to mirth, but on the sudden A Roman thought hath struck him.--Enobarbus! ENOBARBUS Madam? CLEOPATRA Seek him and bring him hither.--Where's Alexas? ALEXAS Here at your service. My lord approaches. [Enter Antony with a Messenger.] CLEOPATRA We will not look upon him. Go with us. [All but Antony and the Messenger exit.] MESSENGER Fulvia thy wife first came into the field. ANTONY Against my brother Lucius? MESSENGER Ay. But soon that war had end, and the time's state Made friends of them, jointing their force 'gainst Caesar, Whose better issue in the war from Italy Upon the first encounter drave them. ANTONY Well, what worst? MESSENGER The nature of bad news infects the teller. ANTONY When it concerns the fool or coward. On. Things that are past are done, with me. 'Tis thus: Who tells me true, though in his tale lie death, I hear him as he flattered. MESSENGER Labienus-- This is stiff news--hath with his Parthian force Extended Asia: from Euphrates His conquering banner shook, from Syria To Lydia and to Ionia, Whilst-- ANTONY "Antony," thou wouldst say? MESSENGER O, my lord! ANTONY Speak to me home; mince not the general tongue. Name Cleopatra as she is called in Rome; Rail thou in Fulvia's phrase, and taunt my faults With such full license as both truth and malice Have power to utter. O, then we bring forth weeds When our quick winds lie still, and our ills told us Is as our earing. Fare thee well awhile. MESSENGER At your noble pleasure. [Messenger exits.] [Enter another Messenger.] ANTONY From Sicyon how the news? Speak there. SECOND MESSENGER The man from Sicyon-- ANTONY Is there such an one? SECOND MESSENGER He stays upon your will. ANTONY Let him appear. [Second Messenger exits.] These strong Egyptian fetters I must break, Or lose myself in dotage. [Enter another Messenger with a letter.] What are you? THIRD MESSENGER Fulvia thy wife is dead. ANTONY Where died she? THIRD MESSENGER In Sicyon. Her length of sickness, with what else more serious Importeth thee to know, this bears. [He hands Antony the letter.] ANTONY Forbear me. [Third Messenger exits.] There's a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it. What our contempts doth often hurl from us, We wish it ours again. The present pleasure, By revolution lowering, does become The opposite of itself. She's good, being gone. The hand could pluck her back that shoved her on. I must from this enchanting queen break off. Ten thousand harms more than the ills I know My idleness doth hatch.--How now, Enobarbus! [Enter Enobarbus.] ENOBARBUS What's your pleasure, sir? ANTONY I must with haste from hence. ENOBARBUS Why then we kill all our women. We see how mortal an unkindness is to them. If they suffer our departure, death's the word. ANTONY I must be gone. ENOBARBUS Under a compelling occasion, let women die. It were pity to cast them away for nothing, though between them and a great cause, they should be esteemed nothing. Cleopatra, catching but the least noise of this, dies instantly. I have seen her die twenty times upon far poorer moment. I do think there is mettle in death which commits some loving act upon her, she hath such a celerity in dying. ANTONY She is cunning past man's thought. ENOBARBUS Alack, sir, no, her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love. We cannot call her winds and waters sighs and tears; they are greater storms and tempests than almanacs can report. This cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a shower of rain as well as Jove. ANTONY Would I had never seen her! ENOBARBUS O, sir, you had then left unseen a wonderful piece of work, which not to have been blest withal would have discredited your travel. ANTONY Fulvia is dead. ENOBARBUS Sir? ANTONY Fulvia is dead. ENOBARBUS Fulvia? ANTONY Dead. ENOBARBUS Why, sir, give the gods a thankful sacrifice. When it pleaseth their deities to take the wife of a man from him, it shows to man the tailors of the Earth; comforting therein, that when old robes are worn out, there are members to make new. If there were no more women but Fulvia, then had you indeed a cut, and the case to be lamented. This grief is crowned with consolation; your old smock brings forth a new petticoat, and indeed the tears live in an onion that should water this sorrow. ANTONY The business she hath broached in the state Cannot endure my absence. ENOBARBUS And the business you have broached here cannot be without you, especially that of Cleopatra's, which wholly depends on your abode. ANTONY No more light answers. Let our officers Have notice what we purpose. I shall break The cause of our expedience to the Queen And get her leave to part. For not alone The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches, Do strongly speak to us, but the letters too Of many our contriving friends in Rome Petition us at home. Sextus Pompeius Hath given the dare to Caesar and commands The empire of the sea. Our slippery people, Whose love is never linked to the deserver Till his deserts are past, begin to throw Pompey the Great and all his dignities Upon his son, who--high in name and power, Higher than both in blood and life--stands up For the main soldier; whose quality, going on, The sides o' th' world may danger. Much is breeding Which, like the courser's hair, hath yet but life And not a serpent's poison. Say our pleasure, To such whose place is under us, requires Our quick remove from hence. ENOBARBUS I shall do 't. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Alexas, and Iras.] CLEOPATRA Where is he? CHARMIAN I did not see him since. CLEOPATRA, [to Alexas] See where he is, who's with him, what he does. I did not send you. If you find him sad, Say I am dancing; if in mirth, report That I am sudden sick. Quick, and return. [Alexas exits.] CHARMIAN Madam, methinks, if you did love him dearly, You do not hold the method to enforce The like from him. CLEOPATRA What should I do I do not? CHARMIAN In each thing give him way; cross him in nothing. CLEOPATRA Thou teachest like a fool: the way to lose him. CHARMIAN Tempt him not so too far. I wish, forbear. In time we hate that which we often fear. [Enter Antony.] But here comes Antony. CLEOPATRA I am sick and sullen. ANTONY I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose-- CLEOPATRA Help me away, dear Charmian! I shall fall. It cannot be thus long; the sides of nature Will not sustain it. ANTONY Now, my dearest queen-- CLEOPATRA Pray you stand farther from me. ANTONY What's the matter? CLEOPATRA I know by that same eye there's some good news. What, says the married woman you may go? Would she had never given you leave to come. Let her not say 'tis I that keep you here. I have no power upon you. Hers you are. ANTONY The gods best know-- CLEOPATRA O, never was there queen So mightily betrayed! Yet at the first I saw the treasons planted. ANTONY Cleopatra-- CLEOPATRA Why should I think you can be mine, and true-- Though you in swearing shake the throned gods-- Who have been false to Fulvia? Riotous madness, To be entangled with those mouth-made vows Which break themselves in swearing! ANTONY Most sweet queen-- CLEOPATRA Nay, pray you seek no color for your going, But bid farewell and go. When you sued staying, Then was the time for words. No going then! Eternity was in our lips and eyes, Bliss in our brows' bent; none our parts so poor But was a race of heaven. They are so still, Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world, Art turned the greatest liar. ANTONY How now, lady? CLEOPATRA I would I had thy inches. Thou shouldst know There were a heart in Egypt. ANTONY Hear me, queen: The strong necessity of time commands Our services awhile, but my full heart Remains in use with you. Our Italy Shines o'er with civil swords; Sextus Pompeius Makes his approaches to the port of Rome; Equality of two domestic powers Breed scrupulous faction; the hated grown to strength Are newly grown to love; the condemned Pompey, Rich in his father's honor, creeps apace Into the hearts of such as have not thrived Upon the present state, whose numbers threaten; And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge By any desperate change. My more particular, And that which most with you should safe my going, Is Fulvia's death. CLEOPATRA Though age from folly could not give me freedom, It does from childishness. Can Fulvia die? ANTONY She's dead, my queen. [He shows her papers.] Look here, and at thy sovereign leisure read The garboils she awaked; at the last, best, See when and where she died. CLEOPATRA O, most false love! Where be the sacred vials thou shouldst fill With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see, In Fulvia's death, how mine received shall be. ANTONY Quarrel no more, but be prepared to know The purposes I bear, which are or cease As you shall give th' advice. By the fire That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence Thy soldier, servant, making peace or war As thou affects. CLEOPATRA Cut my lace, Charmian, come! But let it be; I am quickly ill and well; So Antony loves. ANTONY My precious queen, forbear, And give true evidence to his love, which stands An honorable trial. CLEOPATRA So Fulvia told me. I prithee turn aside and weep for her, Then bid adieu to me, and say the tears Belong to Egypt. Good now, play one scene Of excellent dissembling, and let it look Like perfect honor. ANTONY You'll heat my blood. No more! CLEOPATRA You can do better yet, but this is meetly. ANTONY Now by my sword-- CLEOPATRA And target. Still he mends. But this is not the best. Look, prithee, Charmian, How this Herculean Roman does become The carriage of his chafe. ANTONY I'll leave you, lady. CLEOPATRA Courteous lord, one word. Sir, you and I must part, but that's not it; Sir, you and I have loved, but there's not it; That you know well. Something it is I would-- O, my oblivion is a very Antony, And I am all forgotten. ANTONY But that your Royalty Holds idleness your subject, I should take you For idleness itself. CLEOPATRA 'Tis sweating labor To bear such idleness so near the heart As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me, Since my becomings kill me when they do not Eye well to you. Your honor calls you hence; Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly, And all the gods go with you. Upon your sword Sit laurel victory, and smooth success Be strewed before your feet. ANTONY Let us go. Come. Our separation so abides and flies That thou, residing here, goes yet with me, And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee. Away! [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Octavius Caesar, reading a letter, Lepidus, and their Train.] CAESAR You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know, It is not Caesar's natural vice to hate Our great competitor. From Alexandria This is the news: he fishes, drinks, and wastes The lamps of night in revel, is not more manlike Than Cleopatra, nor the queen of Ptolemy More womanly than he; hardly gave audience, or Vouchsafed to think he had partners. You shall find there A man who is th' abstract of all faults That all men follow. LEPIDUS I must not think there are Evils enough to darken all his goodness. His faults in him seem as the spots of heaven, More fiery by night's blackness, hereditary Rather than purchased, what he cannot change Than what he chooses. CAESAR You are too indulgent. Let's grant it is not Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy, To give a kingdom for a mirth, to sit And keep the turn of tippling with a slave, To reel the streets at noon and stand the buffet With knaves that smells of sweat. Say this becomes him-- As his composure must be rare indeed Whom these things cannot blemish--yet must Antony No way excuse his foils when we do bear So great weight in his lightness. If he filled His vacancy with his voluptuousness, Full surfeits and the dryness of his bones Call on him for 't. But to confound such time That drums him from his sport and speaks as loud As his own state and ours, 'tis to be chid As we rate boys who, being mature in knowledge, Pawn their experience to their present pleasure And so rebel to judgment. [Enter a Messenger.] LEPIDUS Here's more news. MESSENGER Thy biddings have been done, and every hour, Most noble Caesar, shalt thou have report How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea, And it appears he is beloved of those That only have feared Caesar. To the ports The discontents repair, and men's reports Give him much wronged. CAESAR I should have known no less. It hath been taught us from the primal state That he which is was wished until he were, And the ebbed man, ne'er loved till ne'er worth love, Comes feared by being lacked. This common body, Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream, Goes to and back, lackeying the varying tide To rot itself with motion. [Enter a Second Messenger.] SECOND MESSENGER Caesar, I bring thee word Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates, Makes the sea serve them, which they ear and wound With keels of every kind. Many hot inroads They make in Italy--the borders maritime Lack blood to think on 't--and flush youth revolt. No vessel can peep forth but 'tis as soon Taken as seen, for Pompey's name strikes more Than could his war resisted. CAESAR Antony, Leave thy lascivious wassails. When thou once Was beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st Hirsius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel Did famine follow, whom thou fought'st against, Though daintily brought up, with patience more Than savages could suffer. Thou didst drink The stale of horses and the gilded puddle Which beasts would cough at. Thy palate then did deign The roughest berry on the rudest hedge. Yea, like the stag when snow the pasture sheets, The barks of trees thou browsed. On the Alps It is reported thou didst eat strange flesh Which some did die to look on. And all this-- It wounds thine honor that I speak it now-- Was borne so like a soldier that thy cheek So much as lanked not. LEPIDUS 'Tis pity of him. CAESAR Let his shames quickly Drive him to Rome. 'Tis time we twain Did show ourselves i' th' field, and to that end Assemble we immediate council. Pompey Thrives in our idleness. LEPIDUS Tomorrow, Caesar, I shall be furnished to inform you rightly Both what by sea and land I can be able To front this present time. CAESAR Till which encounter, It is my business too. Farewell. LEPIDUS Farewell, my lord. What you shall know meantime Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir, To let me be partaker. CAESAR Doubt not, sir. I knew it for my bond. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Mardian.] CLEOPATRA Charmian! CHARMIAN Madam? CLEOPATRA Ha, ha! Give me to drink mandragora. CHARMIAN Why, madam? CLEOPATRA That I might sleep out this great gap of time My Antony is away. CHARMIAN You think of him too much. CLEOPATRA O, 'tis treason! CHARMIAN Madam, I trust not so. CLEOPATRA Thou, eunuch Mardian! MARDIAN What's your Highness' pleasure? CLEOPATRA Not now to hear thee sing. I take no pleasure In aught an eunuch has. 'Tis well for thee That, being unseminared, thy freer thoughts May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou affections? MARDIAN Yes, gracious madam. CLEOPATRA Indeed? MARDIAN Not in deed, madam, for I can do nothing But what indeed is honest to be done. Yet have I fierce affections, and think What Venus did with Mars. CLEOPATRA O, Charmian, Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he? Or does he walk? Or is he on his horse? O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony! Do bravely, horse, for wot'st thou whom thou mov'st? The demi-Atlas of this Earth, the arm And burgonet of men. He's speaking now, Or murmuring "Where's my serpent of old Nile?" For so he calls me. Now I feed myself With most delicious poison. Think on me That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black, And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Caesar, When thou wast here above the ground, I was A morsel for a monarch. And great Pompey Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow; There would he anchor his aspect, and die With looking on his life. [Enter Alexas from Antony.] ALEXAS Sovereign of Egypt, hail! CLEOPATRA How much unlike art thou Mark Antony! Yet coming from him, that great med'cine hath With his tinct gilded thee. How goes it with my brave Mark Antony? ALEXAS Last thing he did, dear queen, He kissed--the last of many doubled kisses-- This orient pearl. His speech sticks in my heart. CLEOPATRA Mine ear must pluck it thence. ALEXAS "Good friend," quoth he, "Say the firm Roman to great Egypt sends This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot, To mend the petty present, I will piece Her opulent throne with kingdoms. All the East, Say thou, shall call her mistress." So he nodded And soberly did mount an arm-gaunt steed, Who neighed so high that what I would have spoke Was beastly dumbed by him. CLEOPATRA What, was he sad, or merry? ALEXAS Like to the time o' th' year between th' extremes Of hot and cold, he was nor sad nor merry. CLEOPATRA O, well-divided disposition!--Note him, Note him, good Charmian, 'tis the man! But note him: He was not sad, for he would shine on those That make their looks by his; he was not merry, Which seemed to tell them his remembrance lay In Egypt with his joy; but between both. O, heavenly mingle!--Be'st thou sad or merry, The violence of either thee becomes, So does it no man's else.--Met'st thou my posts? ALEXAS Ay, madam, twenty several messengers. Why do you send so thick? CLEOPATRA Who's born that day When I forget to send to Antony Shall die a beggar.--Ink and paper, Charmian.-- Welcome, my good Alexas.--Did I, Charmian, Ever love Caesar so? CHARMIAN O, that brave Caesar! CLEOPATRA Be choked with such another emphasis! Say "the brave Antony." CHARMIAN The valiant Caesar! CLEOPATRA By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth If thou with Caesar paragon again My man of men. CHARMIAN By your most gracious pardon, I sing but after you. CLEOPATRA My salad days, When I was green in judgment, cold in blood, To say as I said then. But come, away, Get me ink and paper. He shall have every day a several greeting, Or I'll unpeople Egypt. [They exit.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Pompey, Menecrates, and Menas, in warlike manner.] POMPEY If the great gods be just, they shall assist The deeds of justest men. MENAS Know, worthy Pompey, That what they do delay they not deny. POMPEY Whiles we are suitors to their throne, decays The thing we sue for. MENAS We, ignorant of ourselves, Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers Deny us for our good; so find we profit By losing of our prayers. POMPEY I shall do well. The people love me, and the sea is mine; My powers are crescent, and my auguring hope Says it will come to th' full. Mark Antony In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make No wars without doors. Caesar gets money where He loses hearts. Lepidus flatters both, Of both is flattered; but he neither loves, Nor either cares for him. MENAS Caesar and Lepidus Are in the field. A mighty strength they carry. POMPEY Where have you this? 'Tis false. MENAS From Silvius, sir. POMPEY He dreams. I know they are in Rome together, Looking for Antony. But all the charms of love, Salt Cleopatra, soften thy wanned lip! Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with both; Tie up the libertine in a field of feasts; Keep his brain fuming. Epicurean cooks Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite, That sleep and feeding may prorogue his honor Even till a Lethe'd dullness-- [Enter Varrius.] How now, Varrius? VARRIUS This is most certain that I shall deliver: Mark Antony is every hour in Rome Expected. Since he went from Egypt 'tis A space for farther travel. POMPEY I could have given less matter A better ear.--Menas, I did not think This amorous surfeiter would have donned his helm For such a petty war. His soldiership Is twice the other twain. But let us rear The higher our opinion, that our stirring Can from the lap of Egypt's widow pluck The ne'er lust-wearied Antony. MENAS I cannot hope Caesar and Antony shall well greet together. His wife that's dead did trespasses to Caesar; His brother warred upon him, although I think Not moved by Antony. POMPEY I know not, Menas, How lesser enmities may give way to greater. Were 't not that we stand up against them all, 'Twere pregnant they should square between themselves, For they have entertained cause enough To draw their swords. But how the fear of us May cement their divisions and bind up The petty difference, we yet not know. Be 't as our gods will have 't. It only stands Our lives upon to use our strongest hands. Come, Menas. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Enobarbus and Lepidus.] LEPIDUS Good Enobarbus, 'tis a worthy deed, And shall become you well, to entreat your captain To soft and gentle speech. ENOBARBUS I shall entreat him To answer like himself. If Caesar move him, Let Antony look over Caesar's head And speak as loud as Mars. By Jupiter, Were I the wearer of Antonio's beard, I would not shave 't today. LEPIDUS 'Tis not a time for private stomaching. ENOBARBUS Every time serves for the matter that is then born in 't. LEPIDUS But small to greater matters must give way. ENOBARBUS Not if the small come first. LEPIDUS Your speech is passion; but pray you stir No embers up. Here comes the noble Antony. [Enter, at one door, Antony and Ventidius.] ENOBARBUS And yonder Caesar. [Enter, at another door, Caesar, Maecenas, and Agrippa.] ANTONY, [to Ventidius] If we compose well here, to Parthia. Hark, Ventidius. [They talk aside.] CAESAR, [to Maecenas] I do not know, Maecenas. Ask Agrippa. LEPIDUS, [to Caesar and Antony] Noble friends, That which combined us was most great, and let not A leaner action rend us. What's amiss, May it be gently heard. When we debate Our trivial difference loud, we do commit Murder in healing wounds. Then, noble partners, The rather for I earnestly beseech, Touch you the sourest points with sweetest terms, Nor curstness grow to th' matter. ANTONY 'Tis spoken well. Were we before our armies, and to fight, I should do thus. [Flourish.] CAESAR Welcome to Rome. ANTONY Thank you. CAESAR Sit. ANTONY Sit, sir. CAESAR Nay, then. [They sit.] ANTONY I learn you take things ill which are not so, Or, being, concern you not. CAESAR I must be laughed at If or for nothing or a little, I Should say myself offended, and with you Chiefly i' th' world; more laughed at, that I should Once name you derogately when to sound your name It not concerned me. ANTONY My being in Egypt, Caesar, what was 't to you? CAESAR No more than my residing here at Rome Might be to you in Egypt. Yet if you there Did practice on my state, your being in Egypt Might be my question. ANTONY How intend you, practiced? CAESAR You may be pleased to catch at mine intent By what did here befall me. Your wife and brother Made wars upon me, and their contestation Was theme for you; you were the word of war. ANTONY You do mistake your business. My brother never Did urge me in his act. I did inquire it, And have my learning from some true reports That drew their swords with you. Did he not rather Discredit my authority with yours, And make the wars alike against my stomach, Having alike your cause? Of this my letters Before did satisfy you. If you'll patch a quarrel, As matter whole you have to make it with, It must not be with this. CAESAR You praise yourself By laying defects of judgment to me; but You patched up your excuses. ANTONY Not so, not so. I know you could not lack--I am certain on 't-- Very necessity of this thought, that I, Your partner in the cause 'gainst which he fought, Could not with graceful eyes attend those wars Which fronted mine own peace. As for my wife, I would you had her spirit in such another. The third o' th' world is yours, which with a snaffle You may pace easy, but not such a wife. ENOBARBUS Would we had all such wives, that the men might go to wars with the women! ANTONY So much uncurbable, her garboils, Caesar, Made out of her impatience--which not wanted Shrewdness of policy too--I grieving grant Did you too much disquiet. For that you must But say I could not help it. CAESAR I wrote to you When rioting in Alexandria; you Did pocket up my letters, and with taunts Did gibe my missive out of audience. ANTONY Sir, He fell upon me ere admitted, then; Three kings I had newly feasted, and did want Of what I was i' th' morning. But next day I told him of myself, which was as much As to have asked him pardon. Let this fellow Be nothing of our strife; if we contend, Out of our question wipe him. CAESAR You have broken The article of your oath, which you shall never Have tongue to charge me with. LEPIDUS Soft, Caesar! ANTONY No, Lepidus, let him speak. The honor is sacred which he talks on now, Supposing that I lacked it.--But on, Caesar: The article of my oath? CAESAR To lend me arms and aid when I required them, The which you both denied. ANTONY Neglected, rather; And then when poisoned hours had bound me up From mine own knowledge. As nearly as I may I'll play the penitent to you. But mine honesty Shall not make poor my greatness, nor my power Work without it. Truth is that Fulvia, To have me out of Egypt, made wars here, For which myself, the ignorant motive, do So far ask pardon as befits mine honor To stoop in such a case. LEPIDUS 'Tis noble spoken. MAECENAS If it might please you to enforce no further The griefs between you, to forget them quite Were to remember that the present need Speaks to atone you. LEPIDUS Worthily spoken, Maecenas. ENOBARBUS Or, if you borrow one another's love for the instant, you may, when you hear no more words of Pompey, return it again. You shall have time to wrangle in when you have nothing else to do. ANTONY Thou art a soldier only. Speak no more. ENOBARBUS That truth should be silent I had almost forgot. ANTONY You wrong this presence; therefore speak no more. ENOBARBUS Go to, then. Your considerate stone. CAESAR I do not much dislike the matter, but The manner of his speech; for 't cannot be We shall remain in friendship, our conditions So diff'ring in their acts. Yet if I knew What hoop should hold us staunch, from edge to edge O' th' world I would pursue it. AGRIPPA Give me leave, Caesar. CAESAR Speak, Agrippa. AGRIPPA Thou hast a sister by the mother's side, Admired Octavia. Great Mark Antony Is now a widower. CAESAR Say not so, Agrippa. If Cleopatra heard you, your reproof Were well deserved of rashness. ANTONY I am not married, Caesar. Let me hear Agrippa further speak. AGRIPPA To hold you in perpetual amity, To make you brothers, and to knit your hearts With an unslipping knot, take Antony Octavia to his wife, whose beauty claims No worse a husband than the best of men; Whose virtue and whose general graces speak That which none else can utter. By this marriage All little jealousies, which now seem great, And all great fears, which now import their dangers, Would then be nothing. Truths would be tales, Where now half-tales be truths. Her love to both Would each to other and all loves to both Draw after her. Pardon what I have spoke, For 'tis a studied, not a present thought, By duty ruminated. ANTONY Will Caesar speak? CAESAR Not till he hears how Antony is touched With what is spoke already. ANTONY What power is in Agrippa, If I would say "Agrippa, be it so," To make this good? CAESAR The power of Caesar, and His power unto Octavia. ANTONY May I never To this good purpose, that so fairly shows, Dream of impediment. Let me have thy hand. Further this act of grace; and from this hour The heart of brothers govern in our loves And sway our great designs. CAESAR There's my hand. [They clasp hands.] A sister I bequeath you whom no brother Did ever love so dearly. Let her live To join our kingdoms and our hearts; and never Fly off our loves again. LEPIDUS Happily, amen! ANTONY I did not think to draw my sword 'gainst Pompey, For he hath laid strange courtesies and great Of late upon me. I must thank him only, Lest my remembrance suffer ill report; At heel of that, defy him. LEPIDUS Time calls upon 's. Of us must Pompey presently be sought, Or else he seeks out us. ANTONY Where lies he? CAESAR About the Mount Misena. ANTONY What is his strength by land? CAESAR Great and increasing; But by sea he is an absolute master. ANTONY So is the fame. Would we had spoke together. Haste we for it. Yet, ere we put ourselves in arms, dispatch we The business we have talked of. CAESAR With most gladness, And do invite you to my sister's view, Whither straight I'll lead you. ANTONY Let us, Lepidus, not lack your company. LEPIDUS Noble Antony, not sickness should detain me. [Flourish. All but Enobarbus, Agrippa, and Maecenas exit.] MAECENAS, [to Enobarbus] Welcome from Egypt, sir. ENOBARBUS Half the heart of Caesar, worthy Maecenas!--My honorable friend Agrippa! AGRIPPA Good Enobarbus! MAECENAS We have cause to be glad that matters are so well digested. You stayed well by 't in Egypt. ENOBARBUS Ay, sir, we did sleep day out of countenance and made the night light with drinking. MAECENAS Eight wild boars roasted whole at a breakfast, and but twelve persons there. Is this true? ENOBARBUS This was but as a fly by an eagle. We had much more monstrous matter of feast, which worthily deserved noting. MAECENAS She's a most triumphant lady, if report be square to her. ENOBARBUS When she first met Mark Antony, she pursed up his heart upon the river of Cydnus. AGRIPPA There she appeared indeed, or my reporter devised well for her. ENOBARBUS I will tell you. The barge she sat in like a burnished throne Burned on the water. The poop was beaten gold, Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were lovesick with them. The oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, It beggared all description: she did lie In her pavilion--cloth-of-gold, of tissue-- O'erpicturing that Venus where we see The fancy outwork nature. On each side her Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids, With divers-colored fans, whose wind did seem To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool, And what they undid did. AGRIPPA O, rare for Antony! ENOBARBUS Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides, So many mermaids, tended her i' th' eyes, And made their bends adornings. At the helm A seeming mermaid steers. The silken tackle Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands That yarely frame the office. From the barge A strange invisible perfume hits the sense Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast Her people out upon her; and Antony, Enthroned i' th' market-place, did sit alone, Whistling to th' air, which but for vacancy Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too And made a gap in nature. AGRIPPA Rare Egyptian! ENOBARBUS Upon her landing, Antony sent to her, Invited her to supper. She replied It should be better he became her guest, Which she entreated. Our courteous Antony, Whom ne'er the word of "No" woman heard speak, Being barbered ten times o'er, goes to the feast, And for his ordinary pays his heart For what his eyes eat only. AGRIPPA Royal wench! She made great Caesar lay his sword to bed; He ploughed her, and she cropped. ENOBARBUS I saw her once Hop forty paces through the public street, And having lost her breath, she spoke and panted, That she did make defect perfection, And breathless pour breath forth. MAECENAS Now Antony must leave her utterly. ENOBARBUS Never. He will not. Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety. Other women cloy The appetites they feed, but she makes hungry Where most she satisfies. For vilest things Become themselves in her, that the holy priests Bless her when she is riggish. MAECENAS If beauty, wisdom, modesty can settle The heart of Antony, Octavia is A blessed lottery to him. AGRIPPA Let us go. Good Enobarbus, make yourself my guest Whilst you abide here. ENOBARBUS Humbly, sir, I thank you. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Antony, Caesar; Octavia between them.] ANTONY The world and my great office will sometimes Divide me from your bosom. OCTAVIA All which time Before the gods my knee shall bow my prayers To them for you. ANTONY, [to Caesar] Goodnight, sir.--My Octavia, Read not my blemishes in the world's report. I have not kept my square, but that to come Shall all be done by th' rule. Good night, dear lady.-- Good night, sir. CAESAR Goodnight. [Caesar and Octavia exit.] [Enter Soothsayer.] ANTONY Now, sirrah, you do wish yourself in Egypt? SOOTHSAYER Would I had never come from thence, nor you thither. ANTONY If you can, your reason? SOOTHSAYER I see it in my motion, have it not in my tongue. But yet hie you to Egypt again. ANTONY Say to me, whose fortunes shall rise higher, Caesar's or mine? SOOTHSAYER Caesar's. Therefore, O Antony, stay not by his side. Thy daemon--that thy spirit which keeps thee--is Noble, courageous, high, unmatchable, Where Caesar's is not. But near him, thy angel Becomes afeard, as being o'erpowered. Therefore Make space enough between you. ANTONY Speak this no more. SOOTHSAYER To none but thee; no more but when to thee. If thou dost play with him at any game, Thou art sure to lose; and of that natural luck He beats thee 'gainst the odds. Thy luster thickens When he shines by. I say again, thy spirit Is all afraid to govern thee near him; But he away, 'tis noble. ANTONY Get thee gone. Say to Ventidius I would speak with him. [Soothsayer exits.] He shall to Parthia. Be it art or hap, He hath spoken true. The very dice obey him, And in our sports my better cunning faints Under his chance. If we draw lots, he speeds; His cocks do win the battle still of mine When it is all to naught, and his quails ever Beat mine, inhooped, at odds. I will to Egypt. And though I make this marriage for my peace, I' th' East my pleasure lies. [Enter Ventidius.] O, come, Ventidius. You must to Parthia; your commission's ready. Follow me and receive 't. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Lepidus, Maecenas, and Agrippa.] LEPIDUS Trouble yourselves no further. Pray you hasten Your generals after. AGRIPPA Sir, Mark Antony Will e'en but kiss Octavia, and we'll follow. LEPIDUS Till I shall see you in your soldiers' dress, Which will become you both, farewell. MAECENAS We shall, As I conceive the journey, be at the Mount Before you, Lepidus. LEPIDUS Your way is shorter; My purposes do draw me much about. You'll win two days upon me. BOTH Sir, good success. LEPIDUS Farewell. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas.] CLEOPATRA Give me some music--music, moody food Of us that trade in love. ALL The music, ho! [Enter Mardian the eunuch.] CLEOPATRA Let it alone. Let's to billiards. Come, Charmian. CHARMIAN My arm is sore. Best play with Mardian. CLEOPATRA As well a woman with an eunuch played As with a woman.--Come, you'll play with me, sir? MARDIAN As well as I can, madam. CLEOPATRA And when good will is showed, though 't come too short, The actor may plead pardon. I'll none now. Give me mine angle; we'll to th' river. There, My music playing far off, I will betray Tawny-finned fishes. My bended hook shall pierce Their slimy jaws, and as I draw them up I'll think them every one an Antony And say "Aha! You're caught." CHARMIAN 'Twas merry when You wagered on your angling; when your diver Did hang a salt fish on his hook, which he With fervency drew up. CLEOPATRA That time?--O, times!-- I laughed him out of patience; and that night I laughed him into patience; and next morn, Ere the ninth hour, I drunk him to his bed, Then put my tires and mantles on him, whilst I wore his sword Philippan. [Enter a Messenger.] O, from Italy! Ram thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears, That long time have been barren. MESSENGER Madam, madam-- CLEOPATRA Antonio's dead! If thou say so, villain, Thou kill'st thy mistress. But well and free, If thou so yield him, there is gold, and here My bluest veins to kiss, a hand that kings Have lipped and trembled kissing. MESSENGER First, madam, he is well. CLEOPATRA Why, there's more gold. But sirrah, mark, we use To say the dead are well. Bring it to that, The gold I give thee will I melt and pour Down thy ill-uttering throat. MESSENGER Good madam, hear me. CLEOPATRA Well, go to, I will. But there's no goodness in thy face--if Antony Be free and healthful, so tart a favor To trumpet such good tidings! If not well, Thou shouldst come like a Fury crowned with snakes, Not like a formal man. MESSENGER Will 't please you hear me? CLEOPATRA I have a mind to strike thee ere thou speak'st. Yet if thou say Antony lives, is well, Or friends with Caesar or not captive to him, I'll set thee in a shower of gold and hail Rich pearls upon thee. MESSENGER Madam, he's well. CLEOPATRA Well said. MESSENGER And friends with Caesar. CLEOPATRA Th' art an honest man. MESSENGER Caesar and he are greater friends than ever. CLEOPATRA Make thee a fortune from me. MESSENGER But yet, madam-- CLEOPATRA I do not like "But yet." It does allay The good precedence. Fie upon "But yet." "But yet" is as a jailer to bring forth Some monstrous malefactor. Prithee, friend, Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear, The good and bad together: he's friends with Caesar, In state of health, thou say'st, and, thou say'st, free. MESSENGER Free, madam, no. I made no such report. He's bound unto Octavia. CLEOPATRA For what good turn? MESSENGER For the best turn i' th' bed. CLEOPATRA I am pale, Charmian. MESSENGER Madam, he's married to Octavia. CLEOPATRA The most infectious pestilence upon thee! [Strikes him down.] MESSENGER Good madam, patience! CLEOPATRA What say you? [Strikes him.] Hence, horrible villain, or I'll spurn thine eyes Like balls before me! I'll unhair thy head! [She hales him up and down.] Thou shalt be whipped with wire and stewed in brine, Smarting in ling'ring pickle. MESSENGER Gracious madam, I that do bring the news made not the match. CLEOPATRA Say 'tis not so, a province I will give thee And make thy fortunes proud. The blow thou hadst Shall make thy peace for moving me to rage, And I will boot thee with what gift beside Thy modesty can beg. MESSENGER He's married, madam. CLEOPATRA Rogue, thou hast lived too long. [Draw a knife.] MESSENGER Nay then, I'll run. What mean you, madam? I have made no fault. [He exits.] CHARMIAN Good madam, keep yourself within yourself. The man is innocent. CLEOPATRA Some innocents 'scape not the thunderbolt. Melt Egypt into Nile, and kindly creatures Turn all to serpents! Call the slave again. Though I am mad, I will not bite him. Call! CHARMIAN He is afeard to come. CLEOPATRA I will not hurt him. These hands do lack nobility that they strike A meaner than myself, since I myself Have given myself the cause. [Enter the Messenger again.] Come hither, sir. Though it be honest, it is never good To bring bad news. Give to a gracious message An host of tongues, but let ill tidings tell Themselves when they be felt. MESSENGER I have done my duty. CLEOPATRA Is he married? I cannot hate thee worser than I do If thou again say "yes." MESSENGER He's married, madam. CLEOPATRA The gods confound thee! Dost thou hold there still? MESSENGER Should I lie, madam? CLEOPATRA O, I would thou didst, So half my Egypt were submerged and made A cistern for scaled snakes! Go, get thee hence. Hadst thou Narcissus in thy face, to me Thou wouldst appear most ugly. He is married? MESSENGER I crave your Highness' pardon. CLEOPATRA He is married? MESSENGER Take no offense that I would not offend you. To punish me for what you make me do Seems much unequal. He's married to Octavia. CLEOPATRA O, that his fault should make a knave of thee That art not what th' art sure of! Get thee hence. The merchandise which thou hast brought from Rome Are all too dear for me. Lie they upon thy hand, And be undone by 'em! [Messenger exits.] CHARMIAN Good your Highness, patience. CLEOPATRA In praising Antony, I have dispraised Caesar. CHARMIAN Many times, madam. CLEOPATRA I am paid for 't now. Lead me from hence; I faint. O, Iras, Charmian! 'Tis no matter.-- Go to the fellow, good Alexas. Bid him Report the feature of Octavia, her years, Her inclination; let him not leave out The color of her hair. Bring me word quickly. [Alexas exits.] Let him forever go--let him not, Charmian. Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon, The other way 's a Mars. [(To Mardian.)] Bid you Alexas Bring me word how tall she is.--Pity me, Charmian, But do not speak to me. Lead me to my chamber. [They exit.] Scene 6 ======= [Flourish. Enter Pompey and Menas at one door, with Drum and Trumpet; at another Caesar, Lepidus, Antony, Enobarbus, Maecenas, and Agrippa, with Soldiers marching.] POMPEY Your hostages I have, so have you mine, And we shall talk before we fight. CAESAR Most meet That first we come to words, and therefore have we Our written purposes before us sent, Which if thou hast considered, let us know If 'twill tie up thy discontented sword And carry back to Sicily much tall youth That else must perish here. POMPEY To you all three, The senators alone of this great world, Chief factors for the gods: I do not know Wherefore my father should revengers want, Having a son and friends, since Julius Caesar, Who at Philippi the good Brutus ghosted, There saw you laboring for him. What was 't That moved pale Cassius to conspire? And what Made the all-honored, honest, Roman Brutus, With the armed rest, courtiers of beauteous freedom, To drench the Capitol, but that they would Have one man but a man? And that is it Hath made me rig my navy, at whose burden The angered ocean foams, with which I meant To scourge th' ingratitude that despiteful Rome Cast on my noble father. CAESAR Take your time. ANTONY Thou canst not fear us, Pompey, with thy sails. We'll speak with thee at sea. At land thou know'st How much we do o'ercount thee. POMPEY At land indeed Thou dost o'ercount me of my father's house; But since the cuckoo builds not for himself, Remain in 't as thou mayst. LEPIDUS Be pleased to tell us-- For this is from the present--how you take The offers we have sent you. CAESAR There's the point. ANTONY Which do not be entreated to, but weigh What it is worth embraced. CAESAR And what may follow To try a larger fortune. POMPEY You have made me offer Of Sicily, Sardinia; and I must Rid all the sea of pirates; then to send Measures of wheat to Rome. This 'greed upon, To part with unhacked edges and bear back Our targes undinted. ALL That's our offer. POMPEY Know then I came before you here a man prepared To take this offer. But Mark Antony Put me to some impatience.--Though I lose The praise of it by telling, you must know When Caesar and your brother were at blows, Your mother came to Sicily and did find Her welcome friendly. ANTONY I have heard it, Pompey, And am well studied for a liberal thanks, Which I do owe you. POMPEY Let me have your hand. [They clasp hands.] I did not think, sir, to have met you here. ANTONY The beds i' th' East are soft; and thanks to you, That called me timelier than my purpose hither, For I have gained by 't. CAESAR, [to Pompey] Since I saw you last, There's a change upon you. POMPEY Well, I know not What counts harsh Fortune casts upon my face, But in my bosom shall she never come To make my heart her vassal. LEPIDUS Well met here. POMPEY I hope so, Lepidus. Thus we are agreed. I crave our composition may be written And sealed between us. CAESAR That's the next to do. POMPEY We'll feast each other ere we part, and let's Draw lots who shall begin. ANTONY That will I, Pompey. POMPEY No, Antony, take the lot. But, first or last, Your fine Egyptian cookery shall have The fame. I have heard that Julius Caesar Grew fat with feasting there. ANTONY You have heard much. POMPEY I have fair meanings, sir. ANTONY And fair words to them. POMPEY Then so much have I heard. And I have heard Apollodorus carried-- ENOBARBUS No more of that. He did so. POMPEY What, I pray you? ENOBARBUS A certain queen to Caesar in a mattress. POMPEY I know thee now. How far'st thou, soldier? ENOBARBUS Well, And well am like to do, for I perceive Four feasts are toward. POMPEY Let me shake thy hand. I never hated thee. I have seen thee fight When I have envied thy behavior. ENOBARBUS Sir, I never loved you much, but I ha' praised you When you have well deserved ten times as much As I have said you did. POMPEY Enjoy thy plainness; It nothing ill becomes thee.-- Aboard my galley I invite you all. Will you lead, lords? ALL Show 's the way, sir. POMPEY Come. [They exit, except for Enobarbus and Menas.] MENAS, [aside] Thy father, Pompey, would ne'er have made this treaty.--You and I have known, sir. ENOBARBUS At sea, I think. MENAS We have, sir. ENOBARBUS You have done well by water. MENAS And you by land. ENOBARBUS I will praise any man that will praise me, though it cannot be denied what I have done by land. MENAS Nor what I have done by water. ENOBARBUS Yes, something you can deny for your own safety: you have been a great thief by sea. MENAS And you by land. ENOBARBUS There I deny my land service. But give me your hand, Menas. [They clasp hands.] If our eyes had authority, here they might take two thieves kissing. MENAS All men's faces are true, whatsome'er their hands are. ENOBARBUS But there is never a fair woman has a true face. MENAS No slander. They steal hearts. ENOBARBUS We came hither to fight with you. MENAS For my part, I am sorry it is turned to a drinking. Pompey doth this day laugh away his fortune. ENOBARBUS If he do, sure he cannot weep 't back again. MENAS You've said, sir. We looked not for Mark Antony here. Pray you, is he married to Cleopatra? ENOBARBUS Caesar's sister is called Octavia. MENAS True, sir. She was the wife of Caius Marcellus. ENOBARBUS But she is now the wife of Marcus Antonius. MENAS Pray you, sir? ENOBARBUS 'Tis true. MENAS Then is Caesar and he forever knit together. ENOBARBUS If I were bound to divine of this unity, I would not prophesy so. MENAS I think the policy of that purpose made more in the marriage than the love of the parties. ENOBARBUS I think so, too. But you shall find the band that seems to tie their friendship together will be the very strangler of their amity. Octavia is of a holy, cold, and still conversation. MENAS Who would not have his wife so? ENOBARBUS Not he that himself is not so, which is Mark Antony. He will to his Egyptian dish again. Then shall the sighs of Octavia blow the fire up in Caesar, and, as I said before, that which is the strength of their amity shall prove the immediate author of their variance. Antony will use his affection where it is. He married but his occasion here. MENAS And thus it may be. Come, sir, will you aboard? I have a health for you. ENOBARBUS I shall take it, sir. We have used our throats in Egypt. MENAS Come, let's away. [They exit.] Scene 7 ======= [Music plays. Enter two or three Servants with a banquet.] FIRST SERVANT Here they'll be, man. Some o' their plants are ill-rooted already. The least wind i' th' world will blow them down. SECOND SERVANT Lepidus is high-colored. FIRST SERVANT They have made him drink alms-drink. SECOND SERVANT As they pinch one another by the disposition, he cries out "No more," reconciles them to his entreaty and himself to th' drink. FIRST SERVANT But it raises the greater war between him and his discretion. SECOND SERVANT Why, this it is to have a name in great men's fellowship. I had as lief have a reed that will do me no service as a partisan I could not heave. FIRST SERVANT To be called into a huge sphere, and not to be seen to move in 't, are the holes where eyes should be, which pitifully disaster the cheeks. [A sennet sounded. Enter Caesar, Antony, Pompey, Lepidus, Agrippa, Maecenas, Enobarbus, Menas, with other Captains and a Boy.] ANTONY Thus do they, sir: they take the flow o' th' Nile By certain scales i' th' Pyramid; they know By th' height, the lowness, or the mean if dearth Or foison follow. The higher Nilus swells, The more it promises. As it ebbs, the seedsman Upon the slime and ooze scatters his grain, And shortly comes to harvest. LEPIDUS You've strange serpents there? ANTONY Ay, Lepidus. LEPIDUS Your serpent of Egypt is bred now of your mud by the operation of your sun; so is your crocodile. ANTONY They are so. POMPEY Sit, and some wine. A health to Lepidus! LEPIDUS I am not so well as I should be, but I'll ne'er out. ENOBARBUS, [aside] Not till you have slept. I fear me you'll be in till then. LEPIDUS Nay, certainly, I have heard the Ptolemies' pyramises are very goodly things. Without contradiction I have heard that. MENAS, [aside to Pompey] Pompey, a word. POMPEY, [aside to Menas] Say in mine ear what is 't. MENAS [(whispers in 's ear)] Forsake thy seat, I do beseech thee, captain, And hear me speak a word. POMPEY, [aside to Menas] Forbear me till anon.--This wine for Lepidus! LEPIDUS What manner o' thing is your crocodile? ANTONY It is shaped, sir, like itself, and it is as broad as it hath breadth. It is just so high as it is, and moves with it own organs. It lives by that which nourisheth it, and the elements once out of it, it transmigrates. LEPIDUS What color is it of? ANTONY Of it own color too. LEPIDUS 'Tis a strange serpent. ANTONY 'Tis so, and the tears of it are wet. CAESAR, [aside to Antony] Will this description satisfy him? ANTONY With the health that Pompey gives him, else he is a very epicure. POMPEY, [aside to Menas] Go hang, sir, hang! Tell me of that? Away! Do as I bid you.--Where's this cup I called for? MENAS, [aside to Pompey] If for the sake of merit thou wilt hear me, Rise from thy stool. POMPEY I think th' art mad! [He rises, and they walk aside.] The matter? MENAS I have ever held my cap off to thy fortunes. POMPEY Thou hast served me with much faith. What's else to say?-- Be jolly, lords. ANTONY These quicksands, Lepidus, Keep off them, for you sink. MENAS, [aside to Pompey] Wilt thou be lord of all the world? POMPEY What sayst thou? MENAS Wilt thou be lord of the whole world? That's twice. POMPEY How should that be? MENAS But entertain it, And though thou think me poor, I am the man Will give thee all the world. POMPEY Hast thou drunk well? MENAS No, Pompey, I have kept me from the cup. Thou art, if thou dar'st be, the earthly Jove. Whate'er the ocean pales or sky inclips Is thine, if thou wilt ha 't. POMPEY Show me which way. MENAS These three world-sharers, these competitors, Are in thy vessel. Let me cut the cable, And when we are put off, fall to their throats. All there is thine. POMPEY Ah, this thou shouldst have done And not have spoke on 't! In me 'tis villainy; In thee 't had been good service. Thou must know 'Tis not my profit that does lead mine honor; Mine honor, it. Repent that e'er thy tongue Hath so betrayed thine act. Being done unknown, I should have found it afterwards well done, But must condemn it now. Desist and drink. MENAS, [aside] For this I'll never follow thy palled fortunes more. Who seeks and will not take when once 'tis offered Shall never find it more. POMPEY This health to Lepidus! ANTONY, [to Servant] Bear him ashore.--I'll pledge it for him, Pompey. ENOBARBUS Here's to thee, Menas. MENAS Enobarbus, welcome. POMPEY Fill till the cup be hid. ENOBARBUS, [pointing to the Servant carrying Lepidus] There's a strong fellow, Menas. MENAS Why? ENOBARBUS He bears The third part of the world, man. Seest not? MENAS The third part, then, is drunk. Would it were all, That it might go on wheels. ENOBARBUS Drink thou. Increase the reels. MENAS Come. POMPEY This is not yet an Alexandrian feast. ANTONY It ripens towards it. Strike the vessels, ho! Here's to Caesar. CAESAR I could well forbear 't. It's monstrous labor when I wash my brain And it grows fouler. ANTONY Be a child o' th' time. CAESAR Possess it, I'll make answer. But I had rather fast from all, four days, Than drink so much in one. ENOBARBUS, [to Antony] Ha, my brave emperor, Shall we dance now the Egyptian bacchanals And celebrate our drink? POMPEY Let's ha 't, good soldier. ANTONY Come, let's all take hands Till that the conquering wine hath steeped our sense In soft and delicate Lethe. ENOBARBUS All take hands. Make battery to our ears with the loud music, The while I'll place you; then the boy shall sing. The holding every man shall beat as loud As his strong sides can volley. [Music plays. Enobarbus places them hand in hand.] The Song. BOY Come, thou monarch of the vine, Plumpy Bacchus, with pink eyne. In thy vats our cares be drowned. With thy grapes our hairs be crowned. ALL Cup us till the world go round, Cup us till the world go round. CAESAR What would you more?--Pompey, goodnight.-- Good brother, Let me request you off. Our graver business Frowns at this levity.--Gentle lords, let's part. You see we have burnt our cheeks. Strong Enobarb Is weaker than the wine, and mine own tongue Splits what it speaks. The wild disguise hath almost Anticked us all. What needs more words? Goodnight. Good Antony, your hand. POMPEY I'll try you on the shore. ANTONY And shall, sir. Give 's your hand. POMPEY O, Antony, you have my father's house. But what? We are friends! Come down into the boat. ENOBARBUS Take heed you fall not. [All but Menas and Enobarbus exit.] Menas, I'll not on shore. MENAS No, to my cabin. These drums, these trumpets, flutes! What! Let Neptune hear we bid a loud farewell To these great fellows. Sound and be hanged. Sound out! [Sound a flourish, with drums.] ENOBARBUS Hoo, says 'a! There's my cap! [He throws his cap in the air.] MENAS Hoo! Noble captain, come. [They exit.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Ventidius as it were in triumph, the dead body of Pacorus borne before him; with Silius and Soldiers.] VENTIDIUS Now, darting Parthia, art thou struck, and now Pleased Fortune does of Marcus Crassus' death Make me revenger. Bear the King's son's body Before our army. Thy Pacorus, Orodes, Pays this for Marcus Crassus. SILIUS Noble Ventidius, Whilst yet with Parthian blood thy sword is warm, The fugitive Parthians follow. Spur through Media, Mesopotamia, and the shelters whither The routed fly. So thy grand captain, Antony, Shall set thee on triumphant chariots and Put garlands on thy head. VENTIDIUS O, Silius, Silius, I have done enough. A lower place, note well, May make too great an act. For learn this, Silius: Better to leave undone than by our deed Acquire too high a fame when him we serve 's away. Caesar and Antony have ever won More in their officer than person. Sossius, One of my place in Syria, his lieutenant, For quick accumulation of renown, Which he achieved by th' minute, lost his favor. Who does i' th' wars more than his captain can Becomes his captain's captain; and ambition, The soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of loss Than gain which darkens him. I could do more to do Antonius good, But 'twould offend him. And in his offense Should my performance perish. SILIUS Thou hast, Ventidius, that Without the which a soldier and his sword Grants scarce distinction. Thou wilt write to Antony? VENTIDIUS I'll humbly signify what in his name, That magical word of war, we have effected; How, with his banners and his well-paid ranks, The ne'er-yet-beaten horse of Parthia We have jaded out o' th' field. SILIUS Where is he now? VENTIDIUS He purposeth to Athens, whither, with what haste The weight we must convey with 's will permit, We shall appear before him.--On there, pass along! [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Agrippa at one door, Enobarbus at another.] AGRIPPA What, are the brothers parted? ENOBARBUS They have dispatched with Pompey; he is gone. The other three are sealing. Octavia weeps To part from Rome. Caesar is sad, and Lepidus, Since Pompey's feast, as Menas says, is troubled With the greensickness. AGRIPPA 'Tis a noble Lepidus. ENOBARBUS A very fine one. O, how he loves Caesar! AGRIPPA Nay, but how dearly he adores Mark Antony! ENOBARBUS Caesar? Why, he's the Jupiter of men. AGRIPPA What's Antony? The god of Jupiter. ENOBARBUS Spake you of Caesar? How, the nonpareil! AGRIPPA O Antony, O thou Arabian bird! ENOBARBUS Would you praise Caesar, say "Caesar." Go no further. AGRIPPA Indeed, he plied them both with excellent praises. ENOBARBUS But he loves Caesar best, yet he loves Antony. Hoo, hearts, tongues, figures, scribes, bards, poets, cannot Think, speak, cast, write, sing, number--hoo!-- His love to Antony. But as for Caesar, Kneel down, kneel down, and wonder. AGRIPPA Both he loves. ENOBARBUS They are his shards and he their beetle. [Trumpet within.] So, This is to horse. Adieu, noble Agrippa. AGRIPPA Good fortune, worthy soldier, and farewell. [Enter Caesar, Antony, Lepidus, and Octavia.] ANTONY No further, sir. CAESAR You take from me a great part of myself. Use me well in 't.--Sister, prove such a wife As my thoughts make thee, and as my farthest bond Shall pass on thy approof.--Most noble Antony, Let not the piece of virtue which is set Betwixt us, as the cement of our love To keep it builded, be the ram to batter The fortress of it. For better might we Have loved without this mean, if on both parts This be not cherished. ANTONY Make me not offended In your distrust. CAESAR I have said. ANTONY You shall not find, Though you be therein curious, the least cause For what you seem to fear. So the gods keep you, And make the hearts of Romans serve your ends. We will here part. CAESAR Farewell, my dearest sister, fare thee well. The elements be kind to thee and make Thy spirits all of comfort. Fare thee well. OCTAVIA My noble brother. [She weeps.] ANTONY The April's in her eyes. It is love's spring, And these the showers to bring it on.--Be cheerful. OCTAVIA, [to Caesar] Sir, look well to my husband's house, and-- CAESAR What, Octavia? OCTAVIA I'll tell you in your ear. [Caesar and Octavia walk aside.] ANTONY Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can Her heart inform her tongue--the swan's-down feather That stands upon the swell at the full of tide And neither way inclines. ENOBARBUS, [aside to Agrippa] Will Caesar weep? AGRIPPA He has a cloud in 's face. ENOBARBUS He were the worse for that were he a horse; So is he being a man. AGRIPPA Why, Enobarbus, When Antony found Julius Caesar dead, He cried almost to roaring. And he wept When at Philippi he found Brutus slain. ENOBARBUS That year indeed he was troubled with a rheum. What willingly he did confound he wailed, Believe 't, till I wept too. CAESAR, [coming forward with Octavia] No, sweet Octavia, You shall hear from me still. The time shall not Outgo my thinking on you. ANTONY Come, sir, come, I'll wrestle with you in my strength of love. Look, here I have you, thus I let you go, And give you to the gods. CAESAR Adieu, be happy. LEPIDUS, [to Antony] Let all the number of the stars give light To thy fair way. CAESAR Farewell, farewell. [Kisses Octavia.] ANTONY Farewell. [Trumpets sound. They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas.] CLEOPATRA Where is the fellow? ALEXAS Half afeard to come. CLEOPATRA Go to, go to.--Come hither, sir. [Enter the Messenger as before.] ALEXAS Good Majesty, Herod of Jewry dare not look upon you But when you are well pleased. CLEOPATRA That Herod's head I'll have! But how, when Antony is gone, Through whom I might command it?--Come thou near. MESSENGER Most gracious Majesty! CLEOPATRA Did'st thou behold Octavia? MESSENGER Ay, dread queen. CLEOPATRA Where? MESSENGER Madam, in Rome. I looked her in the face and saw her led Between her brother and Mark Antony. CLEOPATRA Is she as tall as me? MESSENGER She is not, madam. CLEOPATRA Didst hear her speak? Is she shrill-tongued or low? MESSENGER Madam, I heard her speak. She is low-voiced. CLEOPATRA That's not so good. He cannot like her long. CHARMIAN Like her? O Isis, 'tis impossible! CLEOPATRA I think so, Charmian: dull of tongue, and dwarfish!-- What majesty is in her gait? Remember, If e'er thou looked'st on majesty. MESSENGER She creeps. Her motion and her station are as one. She shows a body rather than a life, A statue than a breather. CLEOPATRA Is this certain? MESSENGER Or I have no observance. CHARMIAN Three in Egypt Cannot make better note. CLEOPATRA He's very knowing. I do perceive 't. There's nothing in her yet. The fellow has good judgment. CHARMIAN Excellent. CLEOPATRA, [to Messenger] Guess at her years, I prithee. MESSENGER Madam, she was a widow. CLEOPATRA Widow? Charmian, hark. MESSENGER And I do think she's thirty. CLEOPATRA Bear'st thou her face in mind? Is 't long or round? MESSENGER Round even to faultiness. CLEOPATRA For the most part, too, they are foolish that are so. Her hair what color? MESSENGER Brown, madam, and her forehead As low as she would wish it. CLEOPATRA, [giving money] There's gold for thee. Thou must not take my former sharpness ill. I will employ thee back again. I find thee Most fit for business. Go, make thee ready. Our letters are prepared. [Messenger exits.] CHARMIAN A proper man. CLEOPATRA Indeed he is so. I repent me much That so I harried him. Why, methinks, by him, This creature's no such thing. CHARMIAN Nothing, madam. CLEOPATRA The man hath seen some majesty, and should know. CHARMIAN Hath he seen majesty? Isis else defend, And serving you so long! CLEOPATRA I have one thing more to ask him yet, good Charmian, But 'tis no matter. Thou shalt bring him to me Where I will write. All may be well enough. CHARMIAN I warrant you, madam. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Antony and Octavia.] ANTONY Nay, nay, Octavia, not only that-- That were excusable, that and thousands more Of semblable import--but he hath waged New wars 'gainst Pompey; made his will and read it To public ear; Spoke scantly of me; when perforce he could not But pay me terms of honor, cold and sickly He vented them, most narrow measure lent me; When the best hint was given him, he not took 't, Or did it from his teeth. OCTAVIA O, my good lord, Believe not all, or if you must believe, Stomach not all. A more unhappy lady, If this division chance, ne'er stood between, Praying for both parts. The good gods will mock me presently When I shall pray "O, bless my lord and husband!" Undo that prayer by crying out as loud "O, bless my brother!" Husband win, win brother Prays and destroys the prayer; no midway 'Twixt these extremes at all. ANTONY Gentle Octavia, Let your best love draw to that point which seeks Best to preserve it. If I lose mine honor, I lose myself; better I were not yours Than yours so branchless. But, as you requested, Yourself shall go between 's. The meantime, lady, I'll raise the preparation of a war Shall stain your brother. Make your soonest haste, So your desires are yours. OCTAVIA Thanks to my lord. The Jove of power make me, most weak, most weak, Your reconciler. Wars 'twixt you twain would be As if the world should cleave, and that slain men Should solder up the rift. ANTONY When it appears to you where this begins, Turn your displeasure that way, for our faults Can never be so equal that your love Can equally move with them. Provide your going; Choose your own company, and command what cost Your heart has mind to. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Enobarbus and Eros.] ENOBARBUS How now, friend Eros? EROS There's strange news come, sir. ENOBARBUS What, man? EROS Caesar and Lepidus have made wars upon Pompey. ENOBARBUS This is old. What is the success? EROS Caesar, having made use of him in the wars 'gainst Pompey, presently denied him rivality, would not let him partake in the glory of the action; and, not resting here, accuses him of letters he had formerly wrote to Pompey; upon his own appeal seizes him. So the poor third is up, till death enlarge his confine. ENOBARBUS Then, world, thou hast a pair of chaps, no more, And throw between them all the food thou hast, They'll grind the one the other. Where's Antony? EROS He's walking in the garden, thus, and spurns The rush that lies before him; cries "Fool Lepidus!" And threats the throat of that his officer That murdered Pompey. ENOBARBUS Our great navy's rigged. EROS For Italy and Caesar. More, Domitius: My lord desires you presently. My news I might have told hereafter. ENOBARBUS 'Twill be naught, But let it be. Bring me to Antony. EROS Come, sir. [They exit.] Scene 6 ======= [Enter Agrippa, Maecenas, and Caesar.] CAESAR Contemning Rome, he has done all this and more In Alexandria. Here's the manner of 't: I' th' marketplace, on a tribunal silvered, Cleopatra and himself in chairs of gold Were publicly enthroned. At the feet sat Caesarion, whom they call my father's son, And all the unlawful issue that their lust Since then hath made between them. Unto her He gave the stablishment of Egypt, made her Of lower Syria, Cyprus, Lydia, Absolute queen. MAECENAS This in the public eye? CAESAR I' th' common showplace where they exercise. His sons he there proclaimed the kings of kings. Great Media, Parthia, and Armenia He gave to Alexander; to Ptolemy he assigned Syria, Cilicia, and Phoenicia. She In th' habiliments of the goddess Isis That day appeared, and oft before gave audience, As 'tis reported, so. MAECENAS Let Rome be thus informed. AGRIPPA Who, queasy with his insolence already, Will their good thoughts call from him. CAESAR The people knows it and have now received His accusations. AGRIPPA Who does he accuse? CAESAR Caesar, and that, having in Sicily Sextus Pompeius spoiled, we had not rated him His part o' th' isle. Then does he say he lent me Some shipping, unrestored. Lastly, he frets That Lepidus of the triumvirate Should be deposed and, being, that we detain All his revenue. AGRIPPA Sir, this should be answered. CAESAR 'Tis done already, and the messenger gone. I have told him Lepidus was grown too cruel, That he his high authority abused And did deserve his change. For what I have conquered, I grant him part; but then in his Armenia And other of his conquered kingdoms I Demand the like. MAECENAS He'll never yield to that. CAESAR Nor must not then be yielded to in this. [Enter Octavia with her Train.] OCTAVIA Hail, Caesar, and my lord! Hail, most dear Caesar. CAESAR That ever I should call thee castaway! OCTAVIA You have not called me so, nor have you cause. CAESAR Why have you stol'n upon us thus? You come not Like Caesar's sister. The wife of Antony Should have an army for an usher and The neighs of horse to tell of her approach Long ere she did appear. The trees by th' way Should have borne men, and expectation fainted, Longing for what it had not. Nay, the dust Should have ascended to the roof of heaven, Raised by your populous troops. But you are come A market-maid to Rome, and have prevented The ostentation of our love, which, left unshown, Is often left unloved. We should have met you By sea and land, supplying every stage With an augmented greeting. OCTAVIA Good my lord, To come thus was I not constrained, but did it On my free will. My lord, Mark Antony, Hearing that you prepared for war, acquainted My grieved ear withal, whereon I begged His pardon for return. CAESAR Which soon he granted, Being an abstract 'tween his lust and him. OCTAVIA Do not say so, my lord. CAESAR I have eyes upon him, And his affairs come to me on the wind. Where is he now? OCTAVIA My lord, in Athens. CAESAR No, my most wronged sister. Cleopatra Hath nodded him to her. He hath given his empire Up to a whore, who now are levying The kings o' th' Earth for war. He hath assembled Bocchus, the King of Libya; Archelaus Of Cappadocia; Philadelphos, King Of Paphlagonia; the Thracian king, Adallas; King Manchus of Arabia; King of Pont; Herod of Jewry; Mithridates, King Of Comagen; Polemon and Amyntas, The Kings of Mede and Lycaonia, With a more larger list of scepters. OCTAVIA Ay me, most wretched, That have my heart parted betwixt two friends That does afflict each other! CAESAR Welcome hither. Your letters did withhold our breaking forth Till we perceived both how you were wrong led And we in negligent danger. Cheer your heart. Be you not troubled with the time, which drives O'er your content these strong necessities, But let determined things to destiny Hold unbewailed their way. Welcome to Rome, Nothing more dear to me. You are abused Beyond the mark of thought, and the high gods, To do you justice, makes his ministers Of us and those that love you. Best of comfort, And ever welcome to us. AGRIPPA Welcome, lady. MAECENAS Welcome, dear madam. Each heart in Rome does love and pity you; Only th' adulterous Antony, most large In his abominations, turns you off And gives his potent regiment to a trull That noises it against us. OCTAVIA, [to Caesar] Is it so, sir? CAESAR Most certain. Sister, welcome. Pray you Be ever known to patience. My dear'st sister! [They exit.] Scene 7 ======= [Enter Cleopatra and Enobarbus.] CLEOPATRA I will be even with thee, doubt it not. ENOBARBUS But why, why, why? CLEOPATRA Thou hast forspoke my being in these wars And say'st it is not fit. ENOBARBUS Well, is it, is it? CLEOPATRA Is 't not denounced against us? Why should not we Be there in person? ENOBARBUS Well, I could reply: If we should serve with horse and mares together, The horse were merely lost. The mares would bear A soldier and his horse. CLEOPATRA What is 't you say? ENOBARBUS Your presence needs must puzzle Antony, Take from his heart, take from his brain, from 's time What should not then be spared. He is already Traduced for levity, and 'tis said in Rome That Photinus, an eunuch, and your maids Manage this war. CLEOPATRA Sink Rome, and their tongues rot That speak against us! A charge we bear i' th' war, And as the president of my kingdom will Appear there for a man. Speak not against it. I will not stay behind. [Enter Antony and Canidius.] ENOBARBUS Nay, I have done. Here comes the Emperor. ANTONY Is it not strange, Canidius, That from Tarentum and Brundusium He could so quickly cut the Ionian Sea And take in Toryne?--You have heard on 't, sweet? CLEOPATRA Celerity is never more admired Than by the negligent. ANTONY A good rebuke, Which might have well becomed the best of men, To taunt at slackness.--Canidius, we will fight With him by sea. CLEOPATRA By sea, what else? CANIDIUS Why will My lord do so? ANTONY For that he dares us to 't. ENOBARBUS So hath my lord dared him to single fight. CANIDIUS Ay, and to wage this battle at Pharsalia, Where Caesar fought with Pompey. But these offers, Which serve not for his vantage, he shakes off, And so should you. ENOBARBUS Your ships are not well manned, Your mariners are muleteers, reapers, people Engrossed by swift impress. In Caesar's fleet Are those that often have 'gainst Pompey fought. Their ships are yare, yours heavy. No disgrace Shall fall you for refusing him at sea, Being prepared for land. ANTONY By sea, by sea. ENOBARBUS Most worthy sir, you therein throw away The absolute soldiership you have by land, Distract your army, which doth most consist Of war-marked footmen, leave unexecuted Your own renowned knowledge, quite forgo The way which promises assurance, and Give up yourself merely to chance and hazard From firm security. ANTONY I'll fight at sea. CLEOPATRA I have sixty sails, Caesar none better. ANTONY Our overplus of shipping will we burn, And with the rest full-manned, from th' head of Actium Beat th' approaching Caesar. But if we fail, We then can do 't at land. [Enter a Messenger.] Thy business? MESSENGER The news is true, my lord; he is descried. Caesar has taken Toryne. [He exits.] ANTONY Can he be there in person? 'Tis impossible; Strange that his power should be. Canidius, Our nineteen legions thou shalt hold by land, And our twelve thousand horse. We'll to our ship.-- Away, my Thetis. [Enter a Soldier.] How now, worthy soldier? SOLDIER O noble emperor, do not fight by sea! Trust not to rotten planks. Do you misdoubt This sword and these my wounds? Let th' Egyptians And the Phoenicians go a-ducking. We Have used to conquer standing on the earth And fighting foot to foot. ANTONY Well, well, away. [Antony, Cleopatra, and Enobarbus exit.] SOLDIER By Hercules, I think I am i' th' right. CANIDIUS Soldier, thou art, but his whole action grows Not in the power on 't. So our leader's led, And we are women's men. SOLDIER You keep by land The legions and the horse whole, do you not? CANIDIUS Marcus Octavius, Marcus Justeius, Publicola, and Caelius are for sea, But we keep whole by land. This speed of Caesar's Carries beyond belief. SOLDIER While he was yet in Rome, His power went out in such distractions as Beguiled all spies. CANIDIUS Who's his lieutenant, hear you? SOLDIER They say one Taurus. CANIDIUS Well I know the man. [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER The Emperor calls Canidius. CANIDIUS With news the time's in labor, and throws forth Each minute some. [They exit.] Scene 8 ======= [Enter Caesar with his army, and Taurus, marching.] CAESAR Taurus! TAURUS My lord? CAESAR Strike not by land, keep whole. Provoke not battle Till we have done at sea. Do not exceed The prescript of this scroll. [Hands him a scroll.] Our fortune lies Upon this jump. [They exit.] Scene 9 ======= [Enter Antony and Enobarbus.] ANTONY Set we our squadrons on yond side o' th' hill In eye of Caesar's battle, from which place We may the number of the ships behold And so proceed accordingly. [They exit.] Scene 10 ======== [Canidius marcheth with his land army one way over the stage, and Taurus the lieutenant of Caesar the other way. After their going in is heard the noise of a sea fight.] [Alarum. Enter Enobarbus.] ENOBARBUS Naught, naught, all naught! I can behold no longer. Th' Antoniad, the Egyptian admiral, With all their sixty, fly and turn the rudder. To see 't mine eyes are blasted. [Enter Scarus.] SCARUS Gods and goddesses, All the whole synod of them! ENOBARBUS What's thy passion? SCARUS The greater cantle of the world is lost With very ignorance. We have kissed away Kingdoms and provinces. ENOBARBUS How appears the fight? SCARUS On our side, like the tokened pestilence, Where death is sure. Yon ribaudred nag of Egypt, Whom leprosy o'ertake, i' th' midst o' th' fight, When vantage like a pair of twins appeared Both as the same--or, rather, ours the elder-- The breeze upon her like a cow in June, Hoists sails and flies. ENOBARBUS That I beheld. Mine eyes did sicken at the sight and could not Endure a further view. SCARUS She once being loofed, The noble ruin of her magic, Antony, Claps on his sea-wing and, like a doting mallard, Leaving the fight in height, flies after her. I never saw an action of such shame. Experience, manhood, honor ne'er before Did violate so itself. ENOBARBUS Alack, alack. [Enter Canidius.] CANIDIUS Our fortune on the sea is out of breath And sinks most lamentably. Had our general Been what he knew himself, it had gone well. O, he has given example for our flight Most grossly by his own. ENOBARBUS Ay, are you thereabouts? Why then goodnight indeed. CANIDIUS Toward Peloponnesus are they fled. SCARUS 'Tis easy to 't, and there I will attend What further comes. [He exits.] CANIDIUS To Caesar will I render My legions and my horse. Six kings already Show me the way of yielding. [He exits.] ENOBARBUS I'll yet follow The wounded chance of Antony, though my reason Sits in the wind against me. [He exits.] Scene 11 ======== [Enter Antony with Attendants.] ANTONY Hark, the land bids me tread no more upon 't. It is ashamed to bear me. Friends, come hither. I am so lated in the world that I Have lost my way forever. I have a ship Laden with gold. Take that, divide it. Fly, And make your peace with Caesar. ALL Fly? Not we! ANTONY I have fled myself and have instructed cowards To run and show their shoulders. Friends, begone. I have myself resolved upon a course Which has no need of you. Begone. My treasure's in the harbor; take it. O, I followed that I blush to look upon! My very hairs do mutiny, for the white Reprove the brown for rashness, and they them For fear and doting. Friends, begone. You shall Have letters from me to some friends that will Sweep your way for you. Pray you look not sad, Nor make replies of loathness. Take the hint Which my despair proclaims. Let that be left Which leaves itself. To the seaside straightway! I will possess you of that ship and treasure. Leave me, I pray, a little--pray you, now, Nay, do so--for indeed I have lost command. Therefore I pray you--I'll see you by and by. [Attendants move aside. Antony sits down.] [Enter Cleopatra led by Charmian, Iras, and Eros.] EROS Nay, gentle madam, to him, comfort him. IRAS Do, most dear queen. CHARMIAN Do! Why, what else? CLEOPATRA Let me sit down. O Juno! [She sits down.] ANTONY No, no, no, no, no. EROS See you here, sir? ANTONY Oh fie, fie, fie! CHARMIAN Madam. IRAS Madam, O good empress! EROS Sir, sir-- ANTONY Yes, my lord, yes. He at Philippi kept His sword e'en like a dancer, while I struck The lean and wrinkled Cassius, and 'twas I That the mad Brutus ended. He alone Dealt on lieutenantry, and no practice had In the brave squares of war, yet now--no matter. CLEOPATRA Ah, stand by. EROS The Queen, my lord, the Queen. IRAS Go to him, madam; speak to him. He's unqualitied with very shame. CLEOPATRA, [rising] Well, then, sustain me. O! EROS Most noble sir, arise. The Queen approaches. Her head's declined, and death will seize her but Your comfort makes the rescue. ANTONY I have offended reputation, A most unnoble swerving. EROS Sir, the Queen. ANTONY, [rising] O, whither hast them led me, Egypt? See How I convey my shame out of thine eyes, By looking back what I have left behind 'Stroyed in dishonor. CLEOPATRA O, my lord, my lord, Forgive my fearful sails! I little thought You would have followed. ANTONY Egypt, thou knew'st too well My heart was to thy rudder tied by th' strings, And thou shouldst tow me after. O'er my spirit Thy full supremacy thou knew'st, and that Thy beck might from the bidding of the gods Command me. CLEOPATRA O, my pardon! ANTONY Now I must To the young man send humble treaties, dodge And palter in the shifts of lowness, who With half the bulk o' th' world played as I pleased, Making and marring fortunes. You did know How much you were my conqueror, and that My sword, made weak by my affection, would Obey it on all cause. CLEOPATRA Pardon, pardon! ANTONY Fall not a tear, I say; one of them rates All that is won and lost. Give me a kiss. [They kiss.] Even this repays me.-- We sent our schoolmaster. Is he come back?-- Love, I am full of lead.--Some wine Within there, and our viands! Fortune knows We scorn her most when most she offers blows. [They exit.] Scene 12 ======== [Enter Caesar, Agrippa, Thidias, and Dolabella, with others.] CAESAR Let him appear that's come from Antony. Know you him? DOLABELLA Caesar, 'tis his schoolmaster-- An argument that he is plucked, when hither He sends so poor a pinion of his wing, Which had superfluous kings for messengers Not many moons gone by. [Enter Ambassador from Antony.] CAESAR Approach, and speak. AMBASSADOR Such as I am, I come from Antony. I was of late as petty to his ends As is the morn-dew on the myrtle leaf To his grand sea. CAESAR Be 't so. Declare thine office. AMBASSADOR Lord of his fortunes he salutes thee, and Requires to live in Egypt, which not granted, He lessens his requests, and to thee sues To let him breathe between the heavens and Earth, A private man in Athens. This for him. Next, Cleopatra does confess thy greatness, Submits her to thy might, and of thee craves The circle of the Ptolemies for her heirs, Now hazarded to thy grace. CAESAR For Antony, I have no ears to his request. The Queen Of audience nor desire shall fail, so she From Egypt drive her all-disgraced friend, Or take his life there. This if she perform, She shall not sue unheard. So to them both. AMBASSADOR Fortune pursue thee! CAESAR Bring him through the bands. [Ambassador exits, with Attendants.] [To Thidias.] To try thy eloquence now 'tis time. Dispatch. From Antony win Cleopatra. Promise, And in our name, what she requires; add more, From thine invention, offers. Women are not In their best fortunes strong, but want will perjure The ne'er-touched vestal. Try thy cunning, Thidias. Make thine own edict for thy pains, which we Will answer as a law. THIDIAS Caesar, I go. CAESAR Observe how Antony becomes his flaw, And what thou think'st his very action speaks In every power that moves. THIDIAS Caesar, I shall. [They exit.] Scene 13 ======== [Enter Cleopatra, Enobarbus, Charmian, and Iras.] CLEOPATRA What shall we do, Enobarbus? ENOBARBUS Think, and die. CLEOPATRA Is Antony or we in fault for this? ENOBARBUS Antony only, that would make his will Lord of his reason. What though you fled From that great face of war, whose several ranges Frighted each other? Why should he follow? The itch of his affection should not then Have nicked his captainship, at such a point, When half to half the world opposed, he being The mered question. 'Twas a shame no less Than was his loss, to course your flying flags And leave his navy gazing. CLEOPATRA Prithee, peace. [Enter the Ambassador with Antony.] ANTONY Is that his answer? AMBASSADOR Ay, my lord. ANTONY The Queen shall then have courtesy, so she Will yield us up? AMBASSADOR He says so. ANTONY Let her know 't.-- To the boy Caesar send this grizzled head, And he will fill thy wishes to the brim With principalities. CLEOPATRA That head, my lord? ANTONY, [to Ambassador] To him again. Tell him he wears the rose Of youth upon him, from which the world should note Something particular: his coin, ships, legions May be a coward's, whose ministers would prevail Under the service of a child as soon As i' th' command of Caesar. I dare him therefore To lay his gay caparisons apart And answer me declined, sword against sword, Ourselves alone. I'll write it. Follow me. [Antony and Ambassador exit.] ENOBARBUS, [aside] Yes, like enough, high-battled Caesar will Unstate his happiness and be staged to th' show Against a sworder! I see men's judgments are A parcel of their fortunes, and things outward Do draw the inward quality after them To suffer all alike. That he should dream, Knowing all measures, the full Caesar will Answer his emptiness! Caesar, thou hast subdued His judgment too. [Enter a Servant.] SERVANT A messenger from Caesar. CLEOPATRA What, no more ceremony? See, my women, Against the blown rose may they stop their nose That kneeled unto the buds.--Admit him, sir. [Servant exits.] ENOBARBUS, [aside] Mine honesty and I begin to square. The loyalty well held to fools does make Our faith mere folly. Yet he that can endure To follow with allegiance a fall'n lord Does conquer him that did his master conquer, And earns a place i' th' story. [Enter Thidias.] CLEOPATRA Caesar's will? THIDIAS Hear it apart. CLEOPATRA None but friends. Say boldly. THIDIAS So haply are they friends to Antony. ENOBARBUS He needs as many, sir, as Caesar has, Or needs not us. If Caesar please, our master Will leap to be his friend. For us, you know Whose he is we are, and that is Caesar's. THIDIAS So.-- Thus then, thou most renowned: Caesar entreats Not to consider in what case thou stand'st Further than he is Caesar. CLEOPATRA Go on; right royal. THIDIAS He knows that you embrace not Antony As you did love, but as you feared him. CLEOPATRA O! THIDIAS The scars upon your honor therefore he Does pity as constrained blemishes, Not as deserved. CLEOPATRA He is a god and knows What is most right. Mine honor was not yielded, But conquered merely. ENOBARBUS, [aside] To be sure of that, I will ask Antony. Sir, sir, thou art so leaky That we must leave thee to thy sinking, for Thy dearest quit thee. [Enobarbus exits.] THIDIAS Shall I say to Caesar What you require of him? For he partly begs To be desired to give. It much would please him That of his fortunes you should make a staff To lean upon. But it would warm his spirits To hear from me you had left Antony And put yourself under his shroud, The universal landlord. CLEOPATRA What's your name? THIDIAS My name is Thidias. CLEOPATRA Most kind messenger, Say to great Caesar this in deputation: I kiss his conqu'ring hand. Tell him I am prompt To lay my crown at 's feet, and there to kneel. Tell him, from his all-obeying breath I hear The doom of Egypt. THIDIAS 'Tis your noblest course. Wisdom and fortune combating together, If that the former dare but what it can, No chance may shake it. Give me grace to lay My duty on your hand. [She gives him her hand to kiss.] CLEOPATRA Your Caesar's father oft, When he hath mused of taking kingdoms in, Bestowed his lips on that unworthy place As it rained kisses. [Enter Antony and Enobarbus.] ANTONY Favors? By Jove that thunders! What art thou, fellow? THIDIAS One that but performs The bidding of the fullest man and worthiest To have command obeyed. ENOBARBUS You will be whipped. ANTONY, [calling for Servants] Approach there!--Ah, you kite!--Now, gods and devils, Authority melts from me. Of late when I cried "Ho!" Like boys unto a muss kings would start forth And cry "Your will?" Have you no ears? I am Antony yet. [Enter Servants.] Take hence this jack and whip him. ENOBARBUS, [aside] 'Tis better playing with a lion's whelp Than with an old one dying. ANTONY Moon and stars! Whip him! Were 't twenty of the greatest tributaries That do acknowledge Caesar, should I find them So saucy with the hand of she here--what's her name Since she was Cleopatra? Whip him, fellows, Till like a boy you see him cringe his face And whine aloud for mercy. Take him hence. THIDIAS Mark Antony-- ANTONY Tug him away. Being whipped, Bring him again. This jack of Caesar's shall Bear us an errand to him. [Servants exit with Thidias.] [To Cleopatra.] You were half blasted ere I knew you. Ha! Have I my pillow left unpressed in Rome, Forborne the getting of a lawful race, And by a gem of women, to be abused By one that looks on feeders? CLEOPATRA Good my lord-- ANTONY You have been a boggler ever. But when we in our viciousness grow hard-- O, misery on 't!--the wise gods seel our eyes, In our own filth drop our clear judgments, make us Adore our errors, laugh at 's while we strut To our confusion. CLEOPATRA O, is 't come to this? ANTONY I found you as a morsel cold upon Dead Caesar's trencher; nay, you were a fragment Of Gneius Pompey's, besides what hotter hours, Unregistered in vulgar fame, you have Luxuriously picked out. For I am sure, Though you can guess what temperance should be, You know not what it is. CLEOPATRA Wherefore is this? ANTONY To let a fellow that will take rewards And say "God quit you!" be familiar with My playfellow, your hand, this kingly seal And plighter of high hearts! O, that I were Upon the hill of Basan, to outroar The horned herd! For I have savage cause, And to proclaim it civilly were like A haltered neck which does the hangman thank For being yare about him. [Enter a Servant with Thidias.] Is he whipped? SERVANT Soundly, my lord. ANTONY Cried he? And begged he pardon? SERVANT He did ask favor. ANTONY, [to Thidias] If that thy father live, let him repent Thou wast not made his daughter; and be thou sorry To follow Caesar in his triumph, since Thou hast been whipped for following him. Henceforth The white hand of a lady fever thee; Shake thou to look on 't. Get thee back to Caesar. Tell him thy entertainment. Look thou say He makes me angry with him; for he seems Proud and disdainful, harping on what I am, Not what he knew I was. He makes me angry, And at this time most easy 'tis to do 't, When my good stars that were my former guides Have empty left their orbs and shot their fires Into th' abysm of hell. If he mislike My speech and what is done, tell him he has Hipparchus, my enfranched bondman, whom He may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture, As he shall like to quit me. Urge it thou. Hence with thy stripes, begone! [Thidias exits.] CLEOPATRA Have you done yet? ANTONY Alack, our terrene moon is now eclipsed, And it portends alone the fall of Antony. CLEOPATRA I must stay his time. ANTONY To flatter Caesar, would you mingle eyes With one that ties his points? CLEOPATRA Not know me yet? ANTONY Coldhearted toward me? CLEOPATRA Ah, dear, if I be so, From my cold heart let heaven engender hail And poison it in the source, and the first stone Drop in my neck; as it determines, so Dissolve my life! The next Caesarion smite, Till by degrees the memory of my womb, Together with my brave Egyptians all, By the discandying of this pelleted storm Lie graveless till the flies and gnats of Nile Have buried them for prey! ANTONY I am satisfied. Caesar sits down in Alexandria, where I will oppose his fate. Our force by land Hath nobly held; our severed navy too Have knit again, and fleet, threatening most sealike. Where hast thou been, my heart? Dost thou hear, lady? If from the field I shall return once more To kiss these lips, I will appear in blood. I and my sword will earn our chronicle. There's hope in 't yet. CLEOPATRA That's my brave lord! ANTONY I will be treble-sinewed, -hearted, -breathed, And fight maliciously; for when mine hours Were nice and lucky, men did ransom lives Of me for jests. But now I'll set my teeth And send to darkness all that stop me. Come, Let's have one other gaudy night. Call to me All my sad captains. Fill our bowls once more. Let's mock the midnight bell. CLEOPATRA It is my birthday. I had thought t' have held it poor. But since my lord Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra. ANTONY We will yet do well. CLEOPATRA Call all his noble captains to my lord. ANTONY Do so; we'll speak to them, and tonight I'll force The wine peep through their scars.--Come on, my queen, There's sap in 't yet. The next time I do fight I'll make Death love me, for I will contend Even with his pestilent scythe. [All but Enobarbus exit.] ENOBARBUS Now he'll outstare the lightning. To be furious Is to be frighted out of fear, and in that mood The dove will peck the estridge; and I see still A diminution in our captain's brain Restores his heart. When valor preys on reason, It eats the sword it fights with. I will seek Some way to leave him. [He exits.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Caesar, Agrippa, and Maecenas, with his army, Caesar reading a letter.] CAESAR He calls me "boy," and chides as he had power To beat me out of Egypt. My messenger He hath whipped with rods, dares me to personal combat, Caesar to Antony. Let the old ruffian know I have many other ways to die; meantime Laugh at his challenge. MAECENAS Caesar must think, When one so great begins to rage, he's hunted Even to falling. Give him no breath, but now Make boot of his distraction. Never anger Made good guard for itself. CAESAR Let our best heads Know that tomorrow the last of many battles We mean to fight. Within our files there are, Of those that served Mark Antony but late, Enough to fetch him in. See it done, And feast the army; we have store to do 't, And they have earned the waste. Poor Antony. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Antony, Cleopatra, Enobarbus, Charmian, Iras, with others.] ANTONY He will not fight with me, Domitius? ENOBARBUS No. ANTONY Why should he not? ENOBARBUS He thinks, being twenty times of better fortune, He is twenty men to one. ANTONY Tomorrow, soldier, By sea and land I'll fight. Or I will live Or bathe my dying honor in the blood Shall make it live again. Woo't thou fight well? ENOBARBUS I'll strike and cry "Take all." ANTONY Well said. Come on. Call forth my household servants. [Enter three or four Servitors.] Let's tonight Be bounteous at our meal.--Give me thy hand; Thou hast been rightly honest.--So hast thou,-- Thou,--and thou,--and thou. You have served me well, And kings have been your fellows. CLEOPATRA, [aside to Enobarbus] What means this? ENOBARBUS, [aside to Cleopatra] 'Tis one of those odd tricks which sorrow shoots Out of the mind. ANTONY, [to another Servitor] And thou art honest too. I wish I could be made so many men, And all of you clapped up together in An Antony, that I might do you service So good as you have done. ALL THE SERVITORS The gods forbid! ANTONY Well, my good fellows, wait on me tonight. Scant not my cups, and make as much of me As when mine empire was your fellow too And suffered my command. CLEOPATRA, [aside to Enobarbus] What does he mean? ENOBARBUS, [aside to Cleopatra] To make his followers weep. ANTONY, [to the Servitors] Tend me tonight; May be it is the period of your duty. Haply you shall not see me more, or if, A mangled shadow. Perchance tomorrow You'll serve another master. I look on you As one that takes his leave. Mine honest friends, I turn you not away, but, like a master Married to your good service, stay till death. Tend me tonight two hours--I ask no more-- And the gods yield you for 't! ENOBARBUS What mean you, sir, To give them this discomfort? Look, they weep, And I, an ass, am onion-eyed. For shame, Transform us not to women. ANTONY Ho, ho, ho! Now the witch take me if I meant it thus! Grace grow where those drops fall! My hearty friends, You take me in too dolorous a sense, For I spake to you for your comfort, did desire you To burn this night with torches. Know, my hearts, I hope well of tomorrow, and will lead you Where rather I'll expect victorious life Than death and honor. Let's to supper, come, And drown consideration. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter a company of Soldiers.] FIRST SOLDIER Brother, goodnight. Tomorrow is the day. SECOND SOLDIER It will determine one way. Fare you well. Heard you of nothing strange about the streets? FIRST SOLDIER Nothing. What news? SECOND SOLDIER Belike 'tis but a rumor. Goodnight to you. FIRST SOLDIER Well, sir, goodnight. [They meet other Soldiers who are entering.] SECOND SOLDIER Soldiers, have careful watch. THIRD SOLDIER And you. Goodnight, goodnight. [They place themselves in every corner of the stage.] SECOND SOLDIER Here we; and if tomorrow Our navy thrive, I have an absolute hope Our landmen will stand up. FIRST SOLDIER 'Tis a brave army, and full of purpose. [Music of the hautboys is under the stage.] SECOND SOLDIER Peace. What noise? FIRST SOLDIER List, list! SECOND SOLDIER Hark! FIRST SOLDIER Music i' th' air. THIRD SOLDIER Under the earth. FOURTH SOLDIER It signs well, does it not? THIRD SOLDIER No. FIRST SOLDIER Peace, I say. What should this mean? SECOND SOLDIER 'Tis the god Hercules, whom Antony loved, Now leaves him. FIRST SOLDIER Walk. Let's see if other watchmen Do hear what we do. SECOND SOLDIER How now, masters? [Speak together.] ALL How now? How now? Do you hear this? FIRST SOLDIER Ay. Is 't not strange? THIRD SOLDIER Do you hear, masters? Do you hear? FIRST SOLDIER Follow the noise so far as we have quarter. Let's see how it will give off. ALL Content. 'Tis strange. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Antony and Cleopatra, with Charmian, and others.] ANTONY, [calling] Eros! Mine armor, Eros! CLEOPATRA Sleep a little. ANTONY No, my chuck.--Eros, come, mine armor, Eros. [Enter Eros, carrying armor.] Come, good fellow, put thine iron on. If fortune be not ours today, it is Because we brave her. Come. CLEOPATRA Nay, I'll help too. What's this for? ANTONY Ah, let be, let be! Thou art The armorer of my heart. False, false. This, this! CLEOPATRA Sooth, la, I'll help. Thus it must be. ANTONY Well, well, We shall thrive now.--Seest thou, my good fellow? Go, put on thy defenses. EROS Briefly, sir. CLEOPATRA Is not this buckled well? ANTONY Rarely, rarely. He that unbuckles this, till we do please To daff 't for our repose, shall hear a storm.-- Thou fumblest, Eros, and my queen's a squire More tight at this than thou. Dispatch.--O love, That thou couldst see my wars today, and knew'st The royal occupation, thou shouldst see A workman in 't. [Enter an armed Soldier.] Good morrow to thee. Welcome. Thou look'st like him that knows a warlike charge. To business that we love we rise betime And go to 't with delight. SOLDIER A thousand, sir, Early though 't be, have on their riveted trim And at the port expect you. [Shout. Trumpets flourish.] [Enter Captains and Soldiers.] CAPTAIN The morn is fair. Good morrow, general. ALL Good morrow, general. ANTONY 'Tis well blown, lads. This morning, like the spirit of a youth That means to be of note, begins betimes. So, so.--Come, give me that. This way.--Well said.-- Fare thee well, dame. [He kisses her.] Whate'er becomes of me, This is a soldier's kiss. Rebukable And worthy shameful check it were to stand On more mechanic compliment. I'll leave thee Now like a man of steel.--You that will fight, Follow me close. I'll bring you to 't.--Adieu. [Antony, Eros, Captains, and Soldiers exit.] CHARMIAN Please you retire to your chamber? CLEOPATRA Lead me. He goes forth gallantly. That he and Caesar might Determine this great war in single fight, Then Antony--but now--. Well, on. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Trumpets sound. Enter Antony and Eros, and a Soldier who meets them.] SOLDIER The gods make this a happy day to Antony. ANTONY Would thou and those thy scars had once prevailed To make me fight at land. SOLDIER Had'st thou done so, The kings that have revolted and the soldier That has this morning left thee would have still Followed thy heels. ANTONY Who's gone this morning? SOLDIER Who? One ever near thee. Call for Enobarbus, He shall not hear thee, or from Caesar's camp Say "I am none of thine." ANTONY What sayest thou? SOLDIER Sir, He is with Caesar. EROS Sir, his chests and treasure He has not with him. ANTONY Is he gone? SOLDIER Most certain. ANTONY Go, Eros, send his treasure after. Do it. Detain no jot, I charge thee. Write to him-- I will subscribe--gentle adieus and greetings. Say that I wish he never find more cause To change a master. O, my fortunes have Corrupted honest men. Dispatch.--Enobarbus! [They exit.] Scene 6 ======= [Flourish. Enter Agrippa, Caesar, with Enobarbus and Dolabella.] CAESAR Go forth, Agrippa, and begin the fight. Our will is Antony be took alive; Make it so known. AGRIPPA Caesar, I shall. [He exits.] CAESAR The time of universal peace is near. Prove this a prosp'rous day, the three-nooked world Shall bear the olive freely. [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER Antony Is come into the field. CAESAR Go charge Agrippa Plant those that have revolted in the vant That Antony may seem to spend his fury Upon himself. [All but Enobarbus exit.] ENOBARBUS Alexas did revolt and went to Jewry on Affairs of Antony, there did dissuade Great Herod to incline himself to Caesar And leave his master Antony. For this pains, Caesar hath hanged him. Canidius and the rest That fell away have entertainment but No honorable trust. I have done ill, Of which I do accuse myself so sorely That I will joy no more. [Enter a Soldier of Caesar's.] SOLDIER Enobarbus, Antony Hath after thee sent all thy treasure, with His bounty overplus. The messenger Came on my guard, and at thy tent is now Unloading of his mules. ENOBARBUS I give it you. SOLDIER Mock not, Enobarbus. I tell you true. Best you safed the bringer Out of the host. I must attend mine office Or would have done 't myself. Your emperor Continues still a Jove. [He exits.] ENOBARBUS I am alone the villain of the Earth, And feel I am so most. O Antony, Thou mine of bounty, how wouldst thou have paid My better service, when my turpitude Thou dost so crown with gold! This blows my heart. If swift thought break it not, a swifter mean Shall outstrike thought, but thought will do 't, I feel. I fight against thee? No. I will go seek Some ditch wherein to die; the foul'st best fits My latter part of life. [He exits.] Scene 7 ======= [Alarum, Drums and Trumpets. Enter Agrippa, with other of Caesar's soldiers.] AGRIPPA Retire! We have engaged ourselves too far. Caesar himself has work, and our oppression Exceeds what we expected. [They exit.] [Alarums. Enter Antony, and Scarus wounded.] SCARUS O my brave emperor, this is fought indeed! Had we done so at first, we had droven them home With clouts about their heads. ANTONY Thou bleed'st apace. SCARUS I had a wound here that was like a T, But now 'tis made an H. [Sound of retreat far off.] ANTONY They do retire. SCARUS We'll beat 'em into bench-holes. I have yet Room for six scotches more. [Enter Eros.] EROS They are beaten, sir, and our advantage serves For a fair victory. SCARUS Let us score their backs And snatch 'em up as we take hares, behind. 'Tis sport to maul a runner. ANTONY I will reward thee Once for thy sprightly comfort and tenfold For thy good valor. Come thee on. SCARUS I'll halt after. [They exit.] Scene 8 ======= [Alarum. Enter Antony again in a march; Scarus, with others.] ANTONY We have beat him to his camp. Run one before And let the Queen know of our gests. [A Soldier exits.] Tomorrow Before the sun shall see 's, we'll spill the blood That has today escaped. I thank you all, For doughty-handed are you, and have fought Not as you served the cause, but as 't had been Each man's like mine. You have shown all Hectors. Enter the city. Clip your wives, your friends. Tell them your feats, whilst they with joyful tears Wash the congealment from your wounds and kiss The honored gashes whole. [Enter Cleopatra.] [To Scarus.] Give me thy hand. To this great fairy I'll commend thy acts, Make her thanks bless thee.--O, thou day o' th' world, Chain mine armed neck. Leap thou, attire and all, Through proof of harness to my heart, and there Ride on the pants triumphing. CLEOPATRA Lord of lords! O infinite virtue, com'st thou smiling from The world's great snare uncaught? ANTONY Mine nightingale, We have beat them to their beds. What, girl, though gray Do something mingle with our younger brown, yet ha' we A brain that nourishes our nerves and can Get goal for goal of youth. Behold this man. Commend unto his lips thy favoring hand.-- Kiss it, my warrior. [Scarus kisses her hand.] He hath fought today As if a god in hate of mankind had Destroyed in such a shape. CLEOPATRA, [to Scarus] I'll give thee, friend, An armor all of gold. It was a king's. ANTONY He has deserved it, were it carbuncled Like holy Phoebus' car. Give me thy hand. Through Alexandria make a jolly march. Bear our hacked targets like the men that owe them. Had our great palace the capacity To camp this host, we all would sup together And drink carouses to the next day's fate, Which promises royal peril.--Trumpeters, With brazen din blast you the city's ear. Make mingle with our rattling taborins, That heaven and Earth may strike their sounds together, Applauding our approach. [They exit.] Scene 9 ======= [Enter a Sentry and his company. Enobarbus follows.] SENTRY If we be not relieved within this hour, We must return to th' court of guard. The night Is shiny, and they say we shall embattle By th' second hour i' th' morn. FIRST WATCH This last day was a shrewd one to 's. ENOBARBUS O, bear me witness, night-- SECOND WATCH What man is this? FIRST WATCH Stand close, and list him. ENOBARBUS Be witness to me, O thou blessed moon, When men revolted shall upon record Bear hateful memory, poor Enobarbus did Before thy face repent. SENTRY Enobarbus? SECOND WATCH Peace! Hark further. ENOBARBUS O sovereign mistress of true melancholy, The poisonous damp of night dispunge upon me, That life, a very rebel to my will, May hang no longer on me. Throw my heart Against the flint and hardness of my fault, Which, being dried with grief, will break to powder And finish all foul thoughts. O Antony, Nobler than my revolt is infamous, Forgive me in thine own particular, But let the world rank me in register A master-leaver and a fugitive. O Antony! O Antony! [He dies.] FIRST WATCH Let's speak to him. SENTRY Let's hear him, for the things he speaks may concern Caesar. SECOND WATCH Let's do so. But he sleeps. SENTRY Swoons rather, for so bad a prayer as his Was never yet for sleep. FIRST WATCH Go we to him. SECOND WATCH Awake, sir, awake! Speak to us. FIRST WATCH Hear you, sir? SENTRY The hand of death hath raught him. [Drums afar off.] Hark, the drums Demurely wake the sleepers. Let us bear him To th' court of guard; he is of note. Our hour Is fully out. SECOND WATCH Come on then. He may recover yet. [They exit, carrying Enobarbus' body.] Scene 10 ======== [Enter Antony and Scarus, with their army.] ANTONY Their preparation is today by sea; We please them not by land. SCARUS For both, my lord. ANTONY I would they'd fight i' th' fire or i' th' air; We'd fight there too. But this it is: our foot Upon the hills adjoining to the city Shall stay with us--order for sea is given; They have put forth the haven-- Where their appointment we may best discover And look on their endeavor. [They exit.] Scene 11 ======== [Enter Caesar and his army.] CAESAR But being charged, we will be still by land-- Which, as I take 't, we shall, for his best force Is forth to man his galleys. To the vales, And hold our best advantage. [They exit.] Scene 12 ======== [Enter Antony and Scarus.] ANTONY Yet they are not joined. Where yond pine does stand, I shall discover all. I'll bring thee word Straight how 'tis like to go. [He exits.] [Alarum afar off, as at a sea fight.] SCARUS Swallows have built In Cleopatra's sails their nests. The augurs Say they know not, they cannot tell, look grimly And dare not speak their knowledge. Antony Is valiant and dejected, and by starts His fretted fortunes give him hope and fear Of what he has and has not. [Enter Antony.] ANTONY All is lost! This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me. My fleet hath yielded to the foe, and yonder They cast their caps up and carouse together Like friends long lost. Triple-turned whore! 'Tis thou Hast sold me to this novice, and my heart Makes only wars on thee. Bid them all fly-- For when I am revenged upon my charm, I have done all. Bid them all fly. Begone! [Scarus exits.] O sun, thy uprise shall I see no more. Fortune and Antony part here; even here Do we shake hands. All come to this? The hearts That spanieled me at heels, to whom I gave Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets On blossoming Caesar, and this pine is barked That overtopped them all. Betrayed I am. O, this false soul of Egypt! This grave charm, Whose eye becked forth my wars and called them home, Whose bosom was my crownet, my chief end, Like a right gypsy hath at fast and loose Beguiled me to the very heart of loss.-- What Eros, Eros! [Enter Cleopatra.] Ah, thou spell! Avaunt! CLEOPATRA Why is my lord enraged against his love? ANTONY Vanish, or I shall give thee thy deserving And blemish Caesar's triumph. Let him take thee And hoist thee up to the shouting plebeians! Follow his chariot, like the greatest spot Of all thy sex; most monster-like be shown For poor'st diminutives, for dolts, and let Patient Octavia plow thy visage up With her prepared nails. [Cleopatra exits.] 'Tis well th' art gone, If it be well to live. But better 'twere Thou fell'st into my fury, for one death Might have prevented many.--Eros, ho!-- The shirt of Nessus is upon me. Teach me, Alcides, thou mine ancestor, thy rage. Let me lodge Lichas on the horns o' th' moon, And with those hands that grasped the heaviest club Subdue my worthiest self. The witch shall die. To the young Roman boy she hath sold me, and I fall Under this plot. She dies for 't.--Eros, ho! [He exits.] Scene 13 ======== [Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Mardian.] CLEOPATRA Help me, my women! O, he's more mad Than Telamon for his shield; the boar of Thessaly Was never so embossed. CHARMIAN To th' monument! There lock yourself and send him word you are dead. The soul and body rive not more in parting Than greatness going off. CLEOPATRA To th' monument!-- Mardian, go tell him I have slain myself. Say that the last I spoke was "Antony," And word it, prithee, piteously. Hence, Mardian, And bring me how he takes my death.--To th' monument! [They exit.] Scene 14 ======== [Enter Antony and Eros.] ANTONY Eros, thou yet behold'st me? EROS Ay, noble lord. ANTONY Sometime we see a cloud that's dragonish, A vapor sometime like a bear or lion, A towered citadel, a pendent rock, A forked mountain, or blue promontory With trees upon 't that nod unto the world And mock our eyes with air. Thou hast seen these signs. They are black vesper's pageants. EROS Ay, my lord. ANTONY That which is now a horse, even with a thought The rack dislimns and makes it indistinct As water is in water. EROS It does, my lord. ANTONY My good knave Eros, now thy captain is Even such a body. Here I am Antony, Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave. I made these wars for Egypt, and the Queen, Whose heart I thought I had, for she had mine-- Which whilst it was mine had annexed unto 't A million more, now lost--she, Eros, has Packed cards with Caesar and false-played my glory Unto an enemy's triumph. Nay, weep not, gentle Eros. There is left us Ourselves to end ourselves. [Enter Mardian.] O, thy vile lady! She has robbed me of my sword. MARDIAN No, Antony, My mistress loved thee and her fortunes mingled With thine entirely. ANTONY Hence, saucy eunuch! Peace! She hath betrayed me and shall die the death. MARDIAN Death of one person can be paid but once, And that she has discharged. What thou wouldst do Is done unto thy hand. The last she spake Was "Antony, most noble Antony." Then in the midst a tearing groan did break The name of Antony; it was divided Between her heart and lips. She rendered life Thy name so buried in her. ANTONY Dead, then? MARDIAN Dead. ANTONY Unarm, Eros. The long day's task is done, And we must sleep.--That thou depart'st hence safe Does pay thy labor richly. Go. [Mardian exits.] Off, pluck off! [Eros begins to remove Antony's armor.] The sevenfold shield of Ajax cannot keep The battery from my heart. O, cleave, my sides! Heart, once be stronger than thy continent; Crack thy frail case. Apace, Eros, apace! No more a soldier. Bruised pieces, go. You have been nobly borne.--From me awhile. [Eros exits.] I will o'ertake thee, Cleopatra, and Weep for my pardon. So it must be, for now All length is torture. Since the torch is out, Lie down and stray no farther. Now all labor Mars what it does; yea, very force entangles Itself with strength. Seal, then, and all is done.-- Eros!--I come, my queen.--Eros!--Stay for me. Where souls do couch on flowers, we'll hand in hand, And with our sprightly port make the ghosts gaze. Dido and her Aeneas shall want troops, And all the haunt be ours.--Come, Eros, Eros! [Enter Eros.] EROS What would my lord? ANTONY Since Cleopatra died I have lived in such dishonor that the gods Detest my baseness. I, that with my sword Quartered the world and o'er green Neptune's back With ships made cities, condemn myself to lack The courage of a woman--less noble mind Than she which, by her death, our Caesar tells "I am conqueror of myself." Thou art sworn, Eros, That when the exigent should come, which now Is come indeed, when I should see behind me Th' inevitable prosecution of Disgrace and horror, that on my command Thou then wouldst kill me. Do 't. The time is come. Thou strik'st not me; 'tis Caesar thou defeat'st. Put color in thy cheek. EROS The gods withhold me! Shall I do that which all the Parthian darts, Though enemy, lost aim and could not? ANTONY Eros, Wouldst thou be windowed in great Rome and see Thy master thus with pleached arms, bending down His corrigible neck, his face subdued To penetrative shame, whilst the wheeled seat Of fortunate Caesar, drawn before him, branded His baseness that ensued? EROS I would not see 't. ANTONY Come, then, for with a wound I must be cured. Draw that thy honest sword, which thou hast worn Most useful for thy country. EROS O, sir, pardon me! ANTONY When I did make thee free, swor'st thou not then To do this when I bade thee? Do it at once, Or thy precedent services are all But accidents unpurposed. Draw, and come. EROS Turn from me then that noble countenance Wherein the worship of the whole world lies. ANTONY Lo thee! [He turns away.] EROS My sword is drawn. ANTONY Then let it do at once The thing why thou hast drawn it. EROS My dear master, My captain, and my emperor, let me say, Before I strike this bloody stroke, farewell. ANTONY 'Tis said, man, and farewell. EROS Farewell, great chief. Shall I strike now? ANTONY Now, Eros. EROS Why, there, then. [Stabs himself.] Thus I do escape the sorrow Of Antony's death. [Dies.] ANTONY Thrice nobler than myself, Thou teachest me, O valiant Eros, what I should and thou couldst not. My queen and Eros Have by their brave instruction got upon me A nobleness in record. But I will be A bridegroom in my death and run into 't As to a lover's bed. Come then, and, Eros, Thy master dies thy scholar. To do thus I learned of thee. [He stabs himself.] How, not dead? Not dead? The guard, ho! O, dispatch me! [Enter a company of the Guard, one of them named Dercetus.] FIRST GUARD What's the noise? ANTONY I have done my work ill, friends. O, make an end Of what I have begun! SECOND GUARD The star is fall'n. FIRST GUARD And time is at his period. ALL Alas, and woe! ANTONY Let him that loves me strike me dead. FIRST GUARD Not I. SECOND GUARD Nor I. THIRD GUARD Nor anyone. [All but Antony and Dercetus exit.] DERCETUS Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers fly. [He takes Antony's sword.] This sword but shown to Caesar with this tidings Shall enter me with him. [Enter Diomedes.] DIOMEDES Where's Antony? DERCETUS There, Diomed, there. DIOMEDES Lives he? Wilt thou not answer, man? [Dercetus exits.] ANTONY Art thou there, Diomed? Draw thy sword, and give me Sufficing strokes for death. DIOMEDES Most absolute lord, My mistress Cleopatra sent me to thee. ANTONY When did she send thee? DIOMEDES Now, my lord. ANTONY Where is she? DIOMEDES Locked in her monument. She had a prophesying fear Of what hath come to pass. For when she saw-- Which never shall be found--you did suspect She had disposed with Caesar, and that your rage Would not be purged, she sent you word she was dead; But fearing since how it might work, hath sent Me to proclaim the truth, and I am come, I dread, too late. ANTONY Too late, good Diomed. Call my guard, I prithee. DIOMEDES What ho! The Emperor's guard! The guard, what ho! Come, your lord calls. [Enter four or five of the Guard of Antony.] ANTONY Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra bides. 'Tis the last service that I shall command you. FIRST GUARD Woe, woe are we, sir, you may not live to wear All your true followers out. ALL Most heavy day! ANTONY Nay, good my fellows, do not please sharp fate To grace it with your sorrows. Bid that welcome Which comes to punish us, and we punish it, Seeming to bear it lightly. Take me up. I have led you oft; carry me now, good friends, And have my thanks for all. [They exit bearing Antony and the body of Eros.] Scene 15 ======== [Enter Cleopatra and her maids aloft, with Charmian and Iras.] CLEOPATRA O Charmian, I will never go from hence. CHARMIAN Be comforted, dear madam. CLEOPATRA No, I will not. All strange and terrible events are welcome, But comforts we despise. Our size of sorrow, Proportioned to our cause, must be as great As that which makes it. [Enter Diomedes below.] How now? Is he dead? DIOMEDES His death's upon him, but not dead. Look out o' th' other side your monument. His guard have brought him thither. [Enter Antony below, and the Guard bearing him.] CLEOPATRA O sun, Burn the great sphere thou mov'st in. Darkling stand The varying shore o' th' world! O Antony, Antony, Antony! Help, Charmian! Help, Iras, help! Help, friends below! Let's draw him hither. ANTONY Peace! Not Caesar's valor hath o'erthrown Antony, But Antony's hath triumphed on itself. CLEOPATRA So it should be that none but Antony Should conquer Antony, but woe 'tis so! ANTONY I am dying, Egypt, dying. Only I here importune death awhile until Of many thousand kisses the poor last I lay upon thy lips. CLEOPATRA I dare not, dear, Dear my lord, pardon, I dare not, Lest I be taken. Not th' imperious show Of the full-fortuned Caesar ever shall Be brooched with me; if knife, drugs, serpents have Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe. Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes And still conclusion, shall acquire no honor Demuring upon me. But come, come, Antony.-- Help me, my women!--We must draw thee up.-- Assist, good friends. [They begin lifting him.] ANTONY O, quick, or I am gone. CLEOPATRA Here's sport indeed. How heavy weighs my lord! Our strength is all gone into heaviness; That makes the weight. Had I great Juno's power, The strong-winged Mercury should fetch thee up And set thee by Jove's side. Yet come a little. Wishers were ever fools. O, come, come, come! [They heave Antony aloft to Cleopatra.] And welcome, welcome! Die when thou hast lived; Quicken with kissing. Had my lips that power, Thus would I wear them out. [She kisses him.] ALL A heavy sight! ANTONY I am dying, Egypt, dying. Give me some wine, and let me speak a little. CLEOPATRA No, let me speak, and let me rail so high That the false huswife Fortune break her wheel, Provoked by my offense. ANTONY One word, sweet queen: Of Caesar seek your honor with your safety--O! CLEOPATRA They do not go together. ANTONY Gentle, hear me. None about Caesar trust but Proculeius. CLEOPATRA My resolution and my hands I'll trust, None about Caesar. ANTONY The miserable change now at my end Lament nor sorrow at, but please your thoughts In feeding them with those my former fortunes Wherein I lived the greatest prince o' th' world, The noblest, and do now not basely die, Not cowardly put off my helmet to My countryman--a Roman by a Roman Valiantly vanquished. Now my spirit is going; I can no more. CLEOPATRA Noblest of men, woo't die? Hast thou no care of me? Shall I abide In this dull world, which in thy absence is No better than a sty? O see, my women, The crown o' th' Earth doth melt.--My lord! [Antony dies.] O, withered is the garland of the war; The soldier's pole is fall'n; young boys and girls Are level now with men. The odds is gone, And there is nothing left remarkable Beneath the visiting moon. CHARMIAN O, quietness, lady! [Cleopatra swoons.] IRAS She's dead, too, our sovereign. CHARMIAN Lady! IRAS Madam! CHARMIAN O madam, madam, madam! IRAS Royal Egypt! Empress! [Cleopatra stirs.] CHARMIAN Peace, peace, Iras! CLEOPATRA No more but e'en a woman, and commanded By such poor passion as the maid that milks And does the meanest chares. It were for me To throw my scepter at the injurious gods, To tell them that this world did equal theirs Till they had stolen our jewel. All's but naught. Patience is sottish, and impatience does Become a dog that's mad. Then is it sin To rush into the secret house of death Ere death dare come to us? How do you, women? What, what, good cheer! Why, how now, Charmian? My noble girls! Ah, women, women! Look, Our lamp is spent; it's out. Good sirs, take heart. We'll bury him; and then, what's brave, what's noble, Let's do 't after the high Roman fashion And make death proud to take us. Come, away. This case of that huge spirit now is cold. Ah women, women! Come, we have no friend But resolution and the briefest end. [They exit, bearing off Antony's body.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Caesar with Agrippa, Dolabella, Maecenas, Gallus, and Proculeius, his council of war.] CAESAR, [aside to Dolabella] Go to him, Dolabella, bid him yield. Being so frustrate, tell him, he mocks The pauses that he makes. DOLABELLA Caesar, I shall. [Dolabella exits.] [Enter Dercetus with the sword of Antony.] CAESAR Wherefore is that? And what art thou that dar'st Appear thus to us? DERCETUS I am called Dercetus. Mark Antony I served, who best was worthy Best to be served. Whilst he stood up and spoke, He was my master, and I wore my life To spend upon his haters. If thou please To take me to thee, as I was to him I'll be to Caesar; if thou pleasest not, I yield thee up my life. CAESAR What is 't thou say'st? DERCETUS I say, O Caesar, Antony is dead. CAESAR The breaking of so great a thing should make A greater crack. The round world Should have shook lions into civil streets And citizens to their dens. The death of Antony Is not a single doom; in the name lay A moiety of the world. DERCETUS He is dead, Caesar, Not by a public minister of justice, Nor by a hired knife, but that self hand Which writ his honor in the acts it did Hath, with the courage which the heart did lend it, Splitted the heart. This is his sword. I robbed his wound of it. Behold it stained With his most noble blood. CAESAR Look you sad, friends? The gods rebuke me, but it is tidings To wash the eyes of kings. AGRIPPA And strange it is That nature must compel us to lament Our most persisted deeds. MAECENAS His taints and honors Waged equal with him. AGRIPPA A rarer spirit never Did steer humanity, but you gods will give us Some faults to make us men. Caesar is touched. MAECENAS When such a spacious mirror's set before him, He needs must see himself. CAESAR O Antony, I have followed thee to this, but we do lance Diseases in our bodies. I must perforce Have shown to thee such a declining day Or look on thine. We could not stall together In the whole world. But yet let me lament With tears as sovereign as the blood of hearts That thou my brother, my competitor In top of all design, my mate in empire, Friend and companion in the front of war, The arm of mine own body, and the heart Where mine his thoughts did kindle--that our stars Unreconciliable should divide Our equalness to this. Hear me, good friends-- [Enter an Egyptian.] But I will tell you at some meeter season. The business of this man looks out of him. We'll hear him what he says.--Whence are you? EGYPTIAN A poor Egyptian yet, the Queen my mistress, Confined in all she has, her monument, Of thy intents desires instruction, That she preparedly may frame herself To th' way she's forced to. CAESAR Bid her have good heart. She soon shall know of us, by some of ours, How honorable and how kindly we Determine for her. For Caesar cannot live To be ungentle. EGYPTIAN So the gods preserve thee. [He exits.] CAESAR Come hither, Proculeius. Go and say We purpose her no shame. Give her what comforts The quality of her passion shall require, Lest, in her greatness, by some mortal stroke She do defeat us, for her life in Rome Would be eternal in our triumph. Go, And with your speediest bring us what she says And how you find of her. PROCULEIUS Caesar, I shall. [Proculeius exits.] CAESAR Gallus, go you along. [Gallus exits.] Where's Dolabella, To second Proculeius? ALL Dolabella! CAESAR Let him alone, for I remember now How he's employed. He shall in time be ready. Go with me to my tent, where you shall see How hardly I was drawn into this war, How calm and gentle I proceeded still In all my writings. Go with me and see What I can show in this. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, and Iras.] CLEOPATRA My desolation does begin to make A better life. 'Tis paltry to be Caesar; Not being Fortune, he's but Fortune's knave, A minister of her will. And it is great To do that thing that ends all other deeds, Which shackles accidents and bolts up change, Which sleeps and never palates more the dung, The beggar's nurse, and Caesar's. [Enter Proculeius.] PROCULEIUS Caesar sends greeting to the Queen of Egypt, And bids thee study on what fair demands Thou mean'st to have him grant thee. CLEOPATRA What's thy name? PROCULEIUS My name is Proculeius. CLEOPATRA Antony Did tell me of you, bade me trust you, but I do not greatly care to be deceived That have no use for trusting. If your master Would have a queen his beggar, you must tell him That majesty, to keep decorum, must No less beg than a kingdom. If he please To give me conquered Egypt for my son, He gives me so much of mine own as I Will kneel to him with thanks. PROCULEIUS Be of good cheer. You're fall'n into a princely hand; fear nothing. Make your full reference freely to my lord, Who is so full of grace that it flows over On all that need. Let me report to him Your sweet dependency, and you shall find A conqueror that will pray in aid for kindness Where he for grace is kneeled to. CLEOPATRA Pray you tell him I am his fortune's vassal and I send him The greatness he has got. I hourly learn A doctrine of obedience, and would gladly Look him i' th' face. PROCULEIUS This I'll report, dear lady. Have comfort, for I know your plight is pitied Of him that caused it. [Gallus and Soldiers enter and seize Cleopatra.] GALLUS You see how easily she may be surprised. Guard her till Caesar come. IRAS Royal queen! CHARMIAN O, Cleopatra, thou art taken, queen! CLEOPATRA, [drawing a dagger] Quick, quick, good hands! PROCULEIUS, [seizing the dagger] Hold, worthy lady, hold! Do not yourself such wrong, who are in this Relieved, but not betrayed. CLEOPATRA What, of death, too, That rids our dogs of languish? PROCULEIUS Cleopatra, Do not abuse my master's bounty by Th' undoing of yourself. Let the world see His nobleness well acted, which your death Will never let come forth. CLEOPATRA Where art thou, Death? Come hither, come! Come, come, and take a queen Worth many babes and beggars. PROCULEIUS O, temperance, lady! CLEOPATRA Sir, I will eat no meat; I'll not drink, sir. If idle talk will once be necessary-- I'll not sleep neither. This mortal house I'll ruin, Do Caesar what he can. Know, sir, that I Will not wait pinioned at your master's court, Nor once be chastised with the sober eye Of dull Octavia. Shall they hoist me up And show me to the shouting varletry Of censuring Rome? Rather a ditch in Egypt Be gentle grave unto me; rather on Nilus' mud Lay me stark naked, and let the waterflies Blow me into abhorring; rather make My country's high pyramides my gibbet And hang me up in chains! PROCULEIUS You do extend These thoughts of horror further than you shall Find cause in Caesar. [Enter Dolabella.] DOLABELLA Proculeius, What thou hast done thy master Caesar knows, And he hath sent for thee. For the Queen, I'll take her to my guard. PROCULEIUS So, Dolabella, It shall content me best. Be gentle to her. [To Cleopatra.] To Caesar I will speak what you shall please, If you'll employ me to him. CLEOPATRA Say I would die. [Proculeius, Gallus, and Soldiers exit.] DOLABELLA Most noble empress, you have heard of me. CLEOPATRA I cannot tell. DOLABELLA Assuredly you know me. CLEOPATRA No matter, sir, what I have heard or known. You laugh when boys or women tell their dreams; Is 't not your trick? DOLABELLA I understand not, madam. CLEOPATRA I dreamt there was an emperor Antony. O, such another sleep, that I might see But such another man. DOLABELLA If it might please you-- CLEOPATRA His face was as the heavens, and therein stuck A sun and moon, which kept their course and lighted The little O, the Earth. DOLABELLA Most sovereign creature-- CLEOPATRA His legs bestrid the ocean, his reared arm Crested the world. His voice was propertied As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends; But when he meant to quail and shake the orb, He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty, There was no winter in 't; an autumn 'twas That grew the more by reaping. His delights Were dolphin-like; they showed his back above The element they lived in. In his livery Walked crowns and crownets; realms and islands were As plates dropped from his pocket. DOLABELLA Cleopatra-- CLEOPATRA Think you there was, or might be, such a man As this I dreamt of? DOLABELLA Gentle madam, no. CLEOPATRA You lie up to the hearing of the gods! But if there be nor ever were one such, It's past the size of dreaming. Nature wants stuff To vie strange forms with fancy, yet t' imagine An Antony were nature's piece 'gainst fancy, Condemning shadows quite. DOLABELLA Hear me, good madam. Your loss is as yourself, great; and you bear it As answering to the weight. Would I might never O'ertake pursued success but I do feel, By the rebound of yours, a grief that smites My very heart at root. CLEOPATRA I thank you, sir. Know you what Caesar means to do with me? DOLABELLA I am loath to tell you what I would you knew. CLEOPATRA Nay, pray you, sir. DOLABELLA Though he be honorable-- CLEOPATRA He'll lead me, then, in triumph. DOLABELLA Madam, he will. I know 't. [Flourish. Enter Caesar, Proculeius, Gallus, Maecenas, and others of his train.] ALL Make way there! Caesar! CAESAR Which is the Queen of Egypt? DOLABELLA It is the Emperor, madam. [Cleopatra kneels.] CAESAR Arise. You shall not kneel. I pray you, rise. Rise, Egypt. CLEOPATRA Sir, the gods Will have it thus. My master and my lord I must obey. [She stands.] CAESAR Take to you no hard thoughts. The record of what injuries you did us, Though written in our flesh, we shall remember As things but done by chance. CLEOPATRA Sole sir o' th' world, I cannot project mine own cause so well To make it clear, but do confess I have Been laden with like frailties which before Have often shamed our sex. CAESAR Cleopatra, know We will extenuate rather than enforce. If you apply yourself to our intents, Which towards you are most gentle, you shall find A benefit in this change; but if you seek To lay on me a cruelty by taking Antony's course, you shall bereave yourself Of my good purposes, and put your children To that destruction which I'll guard them from If thereon you rely. I'll take my leave. CLEOPATRA And may through all the world. 'Tis yours, and we, Your scutcheons and your signs of conquest, shall Hang in what place you please. Here, my good lord. [She holds out a paper.] CAESAR You shall advise me in all for Cleopatra. CLEOPATRA This is the brief of money, plate, and jewels I am possessed of. 'Tis exactly valued, Not petty things admitted.--Where's Seleucus? [Enter Seleucus.] SELEUCUS Here, madam. CLEOPATRA This is my treasurer. Let him speak, my lord, Upon his peril, that I have reserved To myself nothing.--Speak the truth, Seleucus. SELEUCUS Madam, I had rather seel my lips Than to my peril speak that which is not. CLEOPATRA What have I kept back? SELEUCUS Enough to purchase what you have made known. CAESAR Nay, blush not, Cleopatra. I approve Your wisdom in the deed. CLEOPATRA See, Caesar, O, behold How pomp is followed! Mine will now be yours, And should we shift estates, yours would be mine. The ingratitude of this Seleucus does Even make me wild.--O slave, of no more trust Than love that's hired! What, goest thou back? Thou shalt Go back, I warrant thee! But I'll catch thine eyes Though they had wings. Slave, soulless villain, dog! O rarely base! CAESAR Good queen, let us entreat you-- CLEOPATRA O Caesar, what a wounding shame is this, That thou vouchsafing here to visit me, Doing the honor of thy lordliness To one so meek, that mine own servant should Parcel the sum of my disgraces by Addition of his envy! Say, good Caesar, That I some lady trifles have reserved, Immoment toys, things of such dignity As we greet modern friends withal, and say Some nobler token I have kept apart For Livia and Octavia, to induce Their mediation, must I be unfolded With one that I have bred? The gods! It smites me Beneath the fall I have. [To Seleucus.] Prithee, go hence, Or I shall show the cinders of my spirits Through th' ashes of my chance. Wert thou a man, Thou wouldst have mercy on me. CAESAR Forbear, Seleucus. [Seleucus exits.] CLEOPATRA Be it known that we, the greatest, are misthought For things that others do; and when we fall, We answer others' merits in our name-- Are therefore to be pitied. CAESAR Cleopatra, Not what you have reserved nor what acknowledged Put we i' th' roll of conquest. Still be 't yours! Bestow it at your pleasure, and believe Caesar's no merchant to make prize with you Of things that merchants sold. Therefore be cheered. Make not your thoughts your prisons. No, dear queen, For we intend so to dispose you as Yourself shall give us counsel. Feed and sleep. Our care and pity is so much upon you That we remain your friend. And so adieu. CLEOPATRA My master and my lord! CAESAR Not so. Adieu. [Flourish. Caesar and his train exit.] CLEOPATRA He words me, girls, he words me, that I should not Be noble to myself. But hark thee, Charmian. [She whispers to Charmian.] IRAS Finish, good lady. The bright day is done, And we are for the dark. CLEOPATRA, [to Charmian] Hie thee again. I have spoke already, and it is provided. Go put it to the haste. CHARMIAN Madam, I will. [Enter Dolabella.] DOLABELLA Where's the Queen? CHARMIAN Behold, sir. [She exits.] CLEOPATRA Dolabella. DOLABELLA Madam, as thereto sworn by your command, Which my love makes religion to obey, I tell you this: Caesar through Syria Intends his journey, and within three days You with your children will he send before. Make your best use of this. I have performed Your pleasure and my promise. CLEOPATRA Dolabella, I shall remain your debtor. DOLABELLA I your servant. Adieu, good queen. I must attend on Caesar. CLEOPATRA Farewell, and thanks. [He exits.] Now, Iras, what think'st thou? Thou an Egyptian puppet shall be shown In Rome as well as I. Mechanic slaves With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers shall Uplift us to the view. In their thick breaths, Rank of gross diet, shall we be enclouded And forced to drink their vapor. IRAS The gods forbid! CLEOPATRA Nay, 'tis most certain, Iras. Saucy lictors Will catch at us like strumpets, and scald rhymers Ballad us out o' tune. The quick comedians Extemporally will stage us and present Our Alexandrian revels. Antony Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see Some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness I' th' posture of a whore. IRAS O the good gods! CLEOPATRA Nay, that's certain. IRAS I'll never see 't! For I am sure mine nails Are stronger than mine eyes. CLEOPATRA Why, that's the way To fool their preparation and to conquer Their most absurd intents. [Enter Charmian.] Now, Charmian! Show me, my women, like a queen. Go fetch My best attires. I am again for Cydnus To meet Mark Antony. Sirrah Iras, go.-- Now, noble Charmian, we'll dispatch indeed, And when thou hast done this chare, I'll give thee leave To play till Doomsday.--Bring our crown and all. [Iras exits. A noise within.] Wherefore's this noise? [Enter a Guardsman.] GUARDSMAN Here is a rural fellow That will not be denied your Highness' presence. He brings you figs. CLEOPATRA Let him come in. [Guardsman exits.] What poor an instrument May do a noble deed! He brings me liberty. My resolution's placed, and I have nothing Of woman in me. Now from head to foot I am marble-constant. Now the fleeting moon No planet is of mine. [Enter Guardsman and Countryman, with a basket.] GUARDSMAN This is the man. CLEOPATRA Avoid, and leave him. [Guardsman exits.] Hast thou the pretty worm of Nilus there That kills and pains not? COUNTRYMAN Truly I have him, but I would not be the party that should desire you to touch him, for his biting is immortal. Those that do die of it do seldom or never recover. CLEOPATRA Remember'st thou any that have died on 't? COUNTRYMAN Very many, men and women too. I heard of one of them no longer than yesterday--a very honest woman, but something given to lie, as a woman should not do but in the way of honesty-- how she died of the biting of it, what pain she felt. Truly, she makes a very good report o' th' worm. But he that will believe all that they say shall never be saved by half that they do. But this is most falliable, the worm's an odd worm. CLEOPATRA Get thee hence. Farewell. COUNTRYMAN I wish you all joy of the worm. [He sets down the basket.] CLEOPATRA Farewell. COUNTRYMAN You must think this, look you, that the worm will do his kind. CLEOPATRA Ay, ay, farewell. COUNTRYMAN Look you, the worm is not to be trusted but in the keeping of wise people, for indeed there is no goodness in the worm. CLEOPATRA Take thou no care; it shall be heeded. COUNTRYMAN Very good. Give it nothing, I pray you, for it is not worth the feeding. CLEOPATRA Will it eat me? COUNTRYMAN You must not think I am so simple but I know the devil himself will not eat a woman. I know that a woman is a dish for the gods if the devil dress her not. But truly these same whoreson devils do the gods great harm in their women, for in every ten that they make, the devils mar five. CLEOPATRA Well, get thee gone. Farewell. COUNTRYMAN Yes, forsooth. I wish you joy o' th' worm. [He exits.] [Enter Iras bearing Cleopatra's royal regalia.] CLEOPATRA Give me my robe. Put on my crown. I have Immortal longings in me. Now no more The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip. [Charmian and Iras begin to dress her.] Yare, yare, good Iras, quick. Methinks I hear Antony call. I see him rouse himself To praise my noble act. I hear him mock The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men To excuse their after wrath.--Husband, I come! Now to that name my courage prove my title. I am fire and air; my other elements I give to baser life.--So, have you done? Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips. Farewell, kind Charmian.--Iras, long farewell. [She kisses them. Iras falls and dies.] Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall? If thou and nature can so gently part, The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, Which hurts and is desired. Dost thou lie still? If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world It is not worth leave-taking. CHARMIAN Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain, that I may say The gods themselves do weep! CLEOPATRA This proves me base. If she first meet the curled Antony, He'll make demand of her, and spend that kiss Which is my heaven to have.--Come, thou mortal wretch, [She places an asp on her breast.] With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate Of life at once untie. Poor venomous fool, Be angry and dispatch. O, couldst thou speak, That I might hear thee call great Caesar ass Unpolicied! CHARMIAN O eastern star! CLEOPATRA Peace, peace! Dost thou not see my baby at my breast, That sucks the nurse asleep? CHARMIAN O, break! O, break! CLEOPATRA As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle-- O Antony!--Nay, I will take thee too. [She places an asp on her arm.] What should I stay-- [Dies.] CHARMIAN In this wild world? So, fare thee well. Now boast thee, Death, in thy possession lies A lass unparalleled. Downy windows, close, [She closes Cleopatra's eyes.] And golden Phoebus, never be beheld Of eyes again so royal. Your crown's awry. I'll mend it, and then play-- [Enter the Guard rustling in.] FIRST GUARD Where's the Queen? CHARMIAN Speak softly. Wake her not. FIRST GUARD Caesar hath sent-- CHARMIAN Too slow a messenger. [She takes out an asp.] O, come apace, dispatch! I partly feel thee. FIRST GUARD Approach, ho! All's not well. Caesar's beguiled. SECOND GUARD There's Dolabella sent from Caesar. Call him. [A Guardsman exits.] FIRST GUARD What work is here, Charmian? Is this well done? CHARMIAN It is well done, and fitting for a princess Descended of so many royal kings. Ah, soldier! [Charmian dies.] [Enter Dolabella.] DOLABELLA How goes it here? SECOND GUARD All dead. DOLABELLA Caesar, thy thoughts Touch their effects in this. Thyself art coming To see performed the dreaded act which thou So sought'st to hinder. [Enter Caesar and all his train, marching.] ALL A way there, a way for Caesar! DOLABELLA O sir, you are too sure an augurer: That you did fear is done. CAESAR Bravest at the last, She leveled at our purposes and, being royal, Took her own way. The manner of their deaths? I do not see them bleed. DOLABELLA Who was last with them? FIRST GUARD A simple countryman that brought her figs. This was his basket. CAESAR Poisoned, then. FIRST GUARD O Caesar, This Charmian lived but now; she stood and spake. I found her trimming up the diadem On her dead mistress; tremblingly she stood, And on the sudden dropped. CAESAR O, noble weakness! If they had swallowed poison, 'twould appear By external swelling; but she looks like sleep, As she would catch another Antony In her strong toil of grace. DOLABELLA Here on her breast There is a vent of blood, and something blown. The like is on her arm. FIRST GUARD This is an aspic's trail, and these fig leaves Have slime upon them, such as th' aspic leaves Upon the caves of Nile. CAESAR Most probable That so she died, for her physician tells me She hath pursued conclusions infinite Of easy ways to die. Take up her bed, And bear her women from the monument. She shall be buried by her Antony. No grave upon the earth shall clip in it A pair so famous. High events as these Strike those that make them; and their story is No less in pity than his glory which Brought them to be lamented. Our army shall In solemn show attend this funeral, And then to Rome. Come, Dolabella, see High order in this great solemnity. [They all exit, the Guards bearing the dead bodies.]

As You Like It by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== ORLANDO, youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys OLIVER, his elder brother SECOND BROTHER, brother to Orlando and Oliver, named Jaques ADAM, servant to Oliver and friend to Orlando DENNIS, servant to Oliver ROSALIND, daughter to Duke Senior CELIA, Rosalind's cousin, daughter to Duke Frederick TOUCHSTONE, a court Fool DUKE FREDERICK, the usurping duke CHARLES, wrestler at Duke Frederick's court LE BEAU, a courtier at Duke Frederick's court Attending Duke Frederick: FIRST LORD SECOND LORD DUKE SENIOR, the exiled duke, brother to Duke Frederick Lords attending Duke Senior in exile: JAQUES AMIENS FIRST LORD SECOND LORD Attending Duke Senior in exile: FIRST PAGE SECOND PAGE CORIN, a shepherd SILVIUS, a young shepherd in love PHOEBE, a disdainful shepherdess AUDREY, a goat-keeper WILLIAM, a country youth in love with Audrey SIR OLIVER MARTEXT, a parish priest HYMEN, god of marriage Lords, Attendants, Musicians ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Orlando and Adam.] ORLANDO As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand crowns, and, as thou sayst, 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 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 of a brother, and, as much as in him lies, mines 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. [Enter Oliver.] ADAM Yonder comes my master, your brother. ORLANDO Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me up. [Adam steps aside.] OLIVER Now, sir, what make you here? ORLANDO Nothing. I am not taught to make anything. OLIVER What mar you then, sir? ORLANDO Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness. OLIVER Marry, sir, be better employed, and be naught awhile. ORLANDO Shall I keep your hogs and eat husks with them? What prodigal portion have I spent that I should come to such penury? OLIVER Know you where you are, sir? ORLANDO O, sir, very well: here in your orchard. OLIVER Know you before whom, sir? ORLANDO 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 there twenty brothers betwixt us. I have as much of my father in me as you, albeit I confess your coming before me is nearer to his reverence. OLIVER, [threatening Orlando] What, boy! ORLANDO, [holding off Oliver by the throat] Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this. OLIVER Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain? ORLANDO 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 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, [coming forward] Sweet masters, be patient. For your father's remembrance, be at accord. OLIVER, [to Orlando] Let me go, I say. ORLANDO 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, obscuring and hiding from me all gentlemanlike 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. [Orlando releases Oliver.] OLIVER 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 will. I pray you leave me. ORLANDO I will no further offend you than becomes me for my good. OLIVER, [to Adam] 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. [Orlando and Adam exit.] OLIVER Is it even so? Begin you to grow upon me? I will physic your rankness, and yet give no thousand crowns neither.--Holla, Dennis! [Enter Dennis.] DENNIS Calls your Worship? OLIVER Was not Charles, the Duke's wrestler, here to speak with me? DENNIS So please you, he is here at the door and importunes access to you. OLIVER Call him in. [Dennis exits.] 'Twill be a good way, and tomorrow the wrestling is. [Enter Charles.] CHARLES Good morrow to your Worship. OLIVER Good Monsieur Charles, what's the new news at the new court? CHARLES 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 revenues enrich the new duke. Therefore he gives them good leave to wander. OLIVER Can you tell if Rosalind, the Duke's daughter, be banished with her father? CHARLES O, no, for the Duke's daughter her cousin 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. OLIVER Where will the old duke live? CHARLES They say he is already in the Forest of Arden, and a many merry men with him; and there 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. OLIVER What, you wrestle tomorrow before the new duke? CHARLES 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 me to try a fall. Tomorrow, 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 honor 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 search and altogether against my will. OLIVER Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I had myself notice of my brother's purpose herein, and have by underhand means labored 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 villainous contriver against me his natural brother. 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 practice 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 villainous this day living. I speak 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. CHARLES I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If he come tomorrow, I'll give him his payment. If ever he go alone again, I'll never wrestle for prize more. And so God keep your Worship. OLIVER Farewell, good Charles. [Charles exits.] Now will I stir this gamester. I hope I shall see an end of him, for my soul--yet I know not why-- 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 him, that I am altogether misprized. 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. [He exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Rosalind and Celia.] CELIA I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry. ROSALIND 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 extraordinary pleasure. CELIA Herein I see thou lov'st 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 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. ROSALIND Well, I will forget the condition of my estate to rejoice in yours. CELIA 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 thee again in affection. By mine honor I will, and when I break that oath, let me turn monster. Therefore, my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry. ROSALIND From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports. Let me see--what think you of falling in love? CELIA 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 honor come off again. ROSALIND What shall be our sport, then? CELIA Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally. ROSALIND 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. CELIA 'Tis true, for those that she makes fair she scarce makes honest, and those that she makes honest she makes very ill-favoredly. ROSALIND Nay, now thou goest from Fortune's office to Nature's. Fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of nature. CELIA No? When Nature hath made a fair creature, may she not by fortune fall into the fire? [Enter Touchstone.] Though Nature hath given us wit to flout at Fortune, hath not Fortune sent in this fool to cut off the argument? ROSALIND Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Nature, when Fortune makes Nature's natural the cutter-off of Nature's wit. CELIA Peradventure this is not Fortune's work neither, 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 dullness of the fool is the whetstone of the wits. [To Touchstone.] How now, wit, whither wander you? TOUCHSTONE Mistress, you must come away to your father. CELIA Were you made the messenger? TOUCHSTONE No, by mine honor, but I was bid to come for you. ROSALIND Where learned you that oath, fool? TOUCHSTONE Of a certain knight that swore by his honor they were good pancakes, and swore by his honor the mustard was naught. Now, I'll stand to it, the pancakes were naught and the mustard was good, and yet was not the knight forsworn. CELIA How prove you that in the great heap of your knowledge? ROSALIND Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom. TOUCHSTONE Stand you both forth now: stroke your chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave. CELIA By our beards (if we had them), thou art. TOUCHSTONE By my knavery (if I had it), then I were. But if you swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn. No more was this knight swearing by his honor, for he never had any, or if he had, he had sworn it away before ever he saw those pancakes or that mustard. CELIA Prithee, who is 't that thou mean'st? TOUCHSTONE One that old Frederick, your father, loves. CELIA My father's love is enough to honor him. Enough. Speak no more of him; you'll be whipped for taxation one of these days. TOUCHSTONE The more pity that fools may not speak wisely what wise men do foolishly. CELIA 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. [Enter Le Beau.] ROSALIND With his mouth full of news. CELIA Which he will put on us as pigeons feed their young. ROSALIND Then shall we be news-crammed. CELIA All the better. We shall be the more marketable.--Bonjour, Monsieur Le Beau. What's the news? LE BEAU Fair princess, you have lost much good sport. CELIA Sport? Of what color? LE BEAU What color, madam? How shall I answer you? ROSALIND As wit and fortune will. TOUCHSTONE Or as the destinies decrees. CELIA Well said. That was laid on with a trowel. TOUCHSTONE Nay, if I keep not my rank-- ROSALIND 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. ROSALIND Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. 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. CELIA Well, the beginning that is dead and buried. LE BEAU There comes an old man and his three sons-- CELIA I could match this beginning with an old tale. LE BEAU Three proper young men of excellent growth and presence. ROSALIND 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 take his part with weeping. ROSALIND Alas! TOUCHSTONE But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies have lost? LE BEAU Why, this that I speak of. TOUCHSTONE Thus men may grow wiser every day. It is the first time that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport for ladies. CELIA Or I, I promise thee. ROSALIND But is there any else longs to see this broken 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. CELIA Yonder sure they are coming. Let us now stay and see it. [Flourish. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, Orlando, Charles, and Attendants.] DUKE FREDERICK Come on. Since the youth will not be entreated, his own peril on his forwardness. ROSALIND, [to Le Beau] Is yonder the man? LE BEAU Even he, madam. CELIA Alas, he is too young. Yet he looks successfully. DUKE FREDERICK How now, daughter and cousin? Are you crept hither to see the wrestling? ROSALIND Ay, my liege, so please you give us leave. DUKE FREDERICK 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 dissuade him, but he will not be entreated. Speak to him, ladies; see if you can move him. CELIA Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau. DUKE FREDERICK Do so. I'll not be by. [He steps aside.] LE BEAU, [to Orlando] Monsieur the challenger, the Princess calls for you. ORLANDO I attend them with all respect and duty. ROSALIND Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler? ORLANDO No, fair princess. He is the general challenger. I come but in as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth. CELIA 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 eyes or knew yourself with your judgment, 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. ROSALIND Do, young sir. Your reputation shall not therefore be misprized. We will make it our suit to the Duke that the wrestling might not go forward. ORLANDO I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts, wherein I confess me much guilty to deny so fair and excellent ladies anything. 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 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. ROSALIND The little strength that I have, I would it were with you. CELIA And mine, to eke out hers. ROSALIND Fare you well. Pray heaven I be deceived in you. CELIA Your heart's desires be with you. CHARLES Come, where is this young gallant that is so desirous to lie with his mother Earth? ORLANDO Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working. DUKE FREDERICK, [coming forward] You shall try but one fall. CHARLES No, I warrant your Grace you shall not entreat him to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him from a first. ORLANDO You mean to mock me after, you should not have mocked me before. But come your ways. ROSALIND Now Hercules be thy speed, young man! CELIA I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg. [Orlando and Charles wrestle.] ROSALIND O excellent young man! CELIA If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should down. [Orlando throws Charles. Shout.] DUKE FREDERICK No more, no more. ORLANDO Yes, I beseech your Grace. I am not yet well breathed. DUKE FREDERICK How dost thou, Charles? LE BEAU He cannot speak, my lord. DUKE FREDERICK Bear him away. [Charles is carried off by Attendants.] What is thy name, young man? ORLANDO Orlando, my liege, the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys. DUKE FREDERICK I would thou hadst been son to some man else. The world esteemed thy father honorable, But I did find him still mine enemy. Thou shouldst have better pleased me with this deed Hadst thou descended from another house. But fare thee well. Thou art a gallant youth. I would thou hadst told me of another father. [Duke exits with Touchstone, Le Beau, Lords, and Attendants.] CELIA, [to Rosalind] Were I my father, coz, would I do this? ORLANDO 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. ROSALIND, [to Celia] 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 Ere he should thus have ventured. CELIA 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. ROSALIND, [giving Orlando a chain from her neck] Gentleman, Wear this for me--one out of suits with Fortune, That could give more but that her hand lacks means.-- Shall we go, coz? CELIA Ay.--Fare you well, fair gentleman. ORLANDO, [aside] 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. ROSALIND, [to Celia] He calls us back. My pride fell with my fortunes. I'll ask him what he would.--Did you call, sir? Sir, you have wrestled well and overthrown More than your enemies. CELIA Will you go, coz? ROSALIND Have with you. [To Orlando.] Fare you well. [Rosalind and Celia exit.] ORLANDO What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue? I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference. O poor Orlando! Thou art overthrown. Or Charles or something weaker masters thee. [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 misconsters all that you have done. The Duke is humorous. What he is indeed More suits you to conceive than I to speak of. ORLANDO I thank you, sir, and pray you tell me this: Which of the two was daughter of the duke That here was at the wrestling? LE BEAU Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners, But yet indeed the smaller is his daughter. The other is daughter to the banished duke, And here detained 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, 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. ORLANDO I rest much bounden to you. Fare you well. [Le Beau exits.] Thus must I from the smoke into the smother, From tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother. But heavenly Rosalind! [He exits.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Celia and Rosalind.] CELIA Why, cousin! Why, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy, not a word? ROSALIND Not one to throw at a dog. CELIA No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs. Throw some of them at me. Come, lame me with reasons. ROSALIND Then there were two cousins laid up, when the one should be lamed with reasons, and the other mad without any. CELIA But is all this for your father? ROSALIND No, some of it is for my child's father. O, how full of briers is this working-day world! CELIA 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. ROSALIND I could shake them off my coat. These burs are in my heart. CELIA Hem them away. ROSALIND I would try, if I could cry "hem" and have him. CELIA Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. ROSALIND O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself. CELIA 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 into so strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest son? ROSALIND The Duke my father loved his father dearly. CELIA 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. ROSALIND No, faith, hate him not, for my sake. CELIA Why should I not? Doth he not deserve well? ROSALIND Let me love him for that, and do you love him because I do. [Enter Duke Frederick with Lords.] Look, here comes the Duke. CELIA With his eyes full of anger. DUKE FREDERICK, [to Rosalind] Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste, And get you from our court. ROSALIND Me, uncle? DUKE FREDERICK You, cousin. Within these ten days if that thou beest found So near our public court as twenty miles, Thou diest for it. ROSALIND 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 Did I offend your Highness. DUKE FREDERICK Thus do all traitors. If their purgation did consist in words, They are as innocent as grace itself. Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not. ROSALIND Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor. Tell me whereon the likelihood depends. DUKE FREDERICK Thou art thy father's daughter. There's enough. ROSALIND So was I when your Highness took his dukedom. So was I when your Highness banished him. Treason is not inherited, my lord, 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. CELIA Dear sovereign, hear me speak. DUKE FREDERICK Ay, Celia, we stayed her for your sake; Else had she with her father ranged along. CELIA 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, But now I know her. If she be a traitor, Why, so am I. We still have slept together, Rose at an instant, learned, played, eat together, And, wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans Still we went coupled and inseparable. DUKE FREDERICK 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. Firm and irrevocable is my doom Which I have passed upon her. She is banished. CELIA Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege. I cannot live out of her company. DUKE FREDERICK You are a fool.--You, niece, provide yourself. If you outstay the time, upon mine honor And in the greatness of my word, you die. [Duke and Lords exit.] CELIA O my poor Rosalind, whither wilt thou go? Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine. I charge thee, be not thou more grieved than I am. ROSALIND I have more cause. CELIA Thou hast not, cousin. Prithee, be cheerful. Know'st thou not the Duke Hath banished me, his daughter? ROSALIND That he hath not. CELIA No, hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one. Shall we be sundered? 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, And do not seek to take your change 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'll go along with thee. ROSALIND Why, whither shall we go? CELIA To seek my uncle in the Forest of Arden. ROSALIND Alas, what danger will it be to us, Maids as we are, to travel forth so far? Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. CELIA I'll put myself in poor and mean attire, And with a kind of umber smirch my face. The like do you. So shall we pass along And never stir assailants. ROSALIND Were it not better, Because that I am more than common tall, That I did suit me all points like a man? A gallant curtal-ax upon my thigh, A boar-spear in my hand, and in my heart Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will, We'll have a swashing and a martial outside-- As many other mannish cowards have That do outface it with their semblances. CELIA What shall I call thee when thou art a man? ROSALIND I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own page, And therefore look you call me Ganymede. But what will you be called? CELIA Something that hath a reference to my state: No longer Celia, but Aliena. ROSALIND But, cousin, what if we assayed to steal The clownish fool out of your father's court? Would he not be a comfort to our travel? CELIA He'll 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. [They exit.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, and two or three Lords, like foresters.] DUKE SENIOR 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 not 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 counselors 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 everything. AMIENS I would not change it. Happy is your Grace, That can translate the stubbornness of fortune Into so quiet and so sweet a style. DUKE SENIOR 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 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 banished you. Today my Lord of Amiens and myself Did steal behind him as he lay along Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out Upon the brook that brawls along this wood; To the which place a poor sequestered stag That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt Did come to languish. And indeed, my lord, The wretched animal heaved 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, Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, Stood on th' extremest verge of the swift brook, Augmenting it with tears. DUKE SENIOR 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 mak'st 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: "'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, "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 country, city, court, Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what's worse, To fright the animals and to kill them up In their assigned and native dwelling place. DUKE SENIOR And did you leave him in this contemplation? SECOND LORD We did, my lord, weeping and commenting Upon the sobbing deer. DUKE SENIOR Show me the place. I love to cope him in these sullen fits, For then he's full of matter. FIRST LORD I'll bring you to him straight. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Duke Frederick with Lords.] DUKE FREDERICK 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 abed, and in the morning early They found the bed untreasured of their mistress. SECOND LORD My lord, the roinish clown at whom so oft Your Grace was wont to laugh is also missing. Hisperia, the Princess' gentlewoman, Confesses that she secretly o'erheard 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 FREDERICK Send to his brother. Fetch that gallant hither. If he be absent, bring his brother to me. I'll make him find him. Do this suddenly, And let not search and inquisition quail To bring again these foolish runaways. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Orlando and Adam, meeting.] ORLANDO 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 prizer of the humorous duke? Your praise is come too swiftly home before you. Know you not, master, to some kind of men 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! ORLANDO Why, what's the matter? ADAM O unhappy youth, 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-- 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. ORLANDO Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go? ADAM No matter whither, so you come not here. ORLANDO What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food, Or with a base and boist'rous 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 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 Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood, Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo The means of weakness and debility. Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Frosty but kindly. Let me go with you. I'll do the service of a younger man In all your business and necessities. ORLANDO 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, And having that do choke their service up Even with the having. It is not so with thee. But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree That cannot so much as a blossom yield In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry. But come thy ways. We'll go along together, And ere we have thy youthful wages spent, We'll light upon some settled low content. ADAM Master, go on, and I will follow thee To the last gasp with truth and loyalty. 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. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Rosalind for Ganymede, Celia for Aliena, and Clown, alias Touchstone.] ROSALIND O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits! TOUCHSTONE I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary. ROSALIND 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. CELIA I pray you bear with me. I cannot go no further. TOUCHSTONE 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. ROSALIND Well, this is the Forest of Arden. TOUCHSTONE Ay, now am I in Arden, the more fool I. When I was at home I was in a better place, but travelers must be content. ROSALIND Ay, be so, good Touchstone. [Enter Corin and Silvius.] Look you who comes here, a young man and an old in solemn talk. [Rosalind, Celia, and Touchstone step aside and eavesdrop.] CORIN, [to Silvius] That is the way to make her scorn you still. SILVIUS O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her! CORIN I partly guess, for I have loved ere now. SILVIUS No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess, Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover As ever sighed upon a midnight pillow. But if thy love were ever like to mine-- As sure I think did never man love so-- How many actions most ridiculous Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy? CORIN Into a thousand that I have forgotten. SILVIUS O, thou didst then never love so heartily. If thou rememb'rest 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 Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, Thou hast not loved. O Phoebe, Phoebe, Phoebe! [He exits.] ROSALIND Alas, poor shepherd, searching of thy wound, I have by hard adventure found mine own. TOUCHSTONE 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 batler, and the cow's dugs that her pretty chopped hands had milked; and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her, from whom I took two cods and, giving her them again, said with weeping tears "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. ROSALIND Thou speak'st wiser than thou art ware of. TOUCHSTONE Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I break my shins against it. ROSALIND Jove, Jove, this shepherd's passion Is much upon my fashion. TOUCHSTONE And mine, but it grows something stale with me. CELIA I pray you, one of you question yond man, if he for gold will give us any food. I faint almost to death. TOUCHSTONE, [to Corin] Holla, you clown! ROSALIND Peace, fool. He's not thy kinsman. CORIN Who calls? TOUCHSTONE Your betters, sir. CORIN Else are they very wretched. ROSALIND, [to Touchstone] Peace, I say. [As Ganymede, to Corin.] Good even toyou, friend. CORIN And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] 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 oppressed, And faints for succor. CORIN 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 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 That you will feed on. But what is, come see, And in my voice most welcome shall you be. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture? CORIN That young swain that you saw here but erewhile, That little cares for buying anything. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] 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. CELIA, [as Aliena] And we will mend thy wages. I like this place, And willingly could waste my time in it. CORIN Assuredly the thing is to be sold. Go with me. If you like upon report The soil, the profit, and this kind of life, I will your very faithful feeder be And buy it with your gold right suddenly. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others.] Song. AMIENS [sings] 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. JAQUES More, more, I prithee, more. AMIENS It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques. JAQUES I thank it. More, I prithee, more. I can suck melancholy out of a song as a weasel sucks eggs. More, I prithee, more. AMIENS My voice is ragged. I know I cannot please you. JAQUES I do not desire you to please me. I do desire you to sing. Come, more, another stanzo. Call you 'em "stanzos"? AMIENS What you will, Monsieur Jaques. JAQUES Nay, I care not for their names. They owe me nothing. Will you sing? AMIENS More at your request than to please myself. JAQUES Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you. But that they call "compliment" is like th' 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. AMIENS Well, I'll end the song.--Sirs, cover the while; the Duke will drink under this tree.--He hath been all this day to look you. JAQUES 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. ALL [together here.] Who doth ambition shun And loves to live i' th' sun, Seeking the food he eats And pleased with what he gets, Come hither, come hither, come hither. Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. JAQUES I'll give you a verse to this note that I made yesterday in despite of my invention. AMIENS And I'll sing it. JAQUES Thus it goes: If it do come to pass 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, An if he will come to me. AMIENS What's that "ducdame"? JAQUES 'Tis a Greek invocation to call fools into a circle. I'll go sleep if I can. If I cannot, I'll rail against all the first-born of Egypt. AMIENS And I'll go seek the Duke. His banquet is prepared. [They exit.] Scene 6 ======= [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. [He lies down.] ORLANDO Why, how now, Adam? No greater heart in thee? Live a little, comfort a little, cheer thyself a little. If this uncouth forest yield anything 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 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 labor. Well said. Thou look'st 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 anything in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam. [They exit.] Scene 7 ======= [Enter Duke Senior and Lords, like outlaws.] DUKE SENIOR I think he be transformed into a beast, For I can nowhere 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 SENIOR 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 labor by his own approach. DUKE SENIOR, [to Jaques] Why, how now, monsieur? What a life is this That your poor friends must woo your company? What, you look merrily. JAQUES A fool, a fool, I met a fool i' th' forest, A motley fool. A miserable world! As I do live by food, I met a fool, Who laid him down and basked him in the sun And railed 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 And, looking on it with lack-luster 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 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 SENIOR What fool is this? JAQUES 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 crammed With observation, the which he vents In mangled forms. O, that I were a fool! I am ambitious for a motley coat. DUKE SENIOR Thou shalt have one. JAQUES It is my only suit, Provided that you weed your better judgments 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, 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 squand'ring 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 th' infected world, If they will patiently receive my medicine. DUKE SENIOR Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do. JAQUES What, for a counter, would I do but good? DUKE SENIOR Most mischievous foul sin in chiding sin; For thou thyself hast been a libertine, As sensual as the brutish sting itself, And all th' embossed sores and headed evils That thou with license of free foot hast caught Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world. JAQUES Why, who cries out on pride That can therein tax any private party? Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea 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 neighbor? Or what is he of basest function That says his bravery is not on my cost, 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 wronged him. If it do him right, Then he hath wronged himself. If he be free, Why then my taxing like a wild goose flies Unclaimed of any man. [Enter Orlando, brandishing a sword.] But who comes here? ORLANDO Forbear, and eat no more. JAQUES Why, I have eat none yet. ORLANDO Nor shalt not till necessity be served. JAQUES Of what kind should this cock come of? DUKE SENIOR, [to Orlando] Art thou thus boldened, man, by thy distress, Or else a rude despiser of good manners, That in civility thou seem'st so empty? ORLANDO You touched 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. JAQUES An you will not be answered with reason, I must die. DUKE SENIOR, [to Orlando] What would you have? Your gentleness shall force More than your force move us to gentleness. ORLANDO I almost die for food, and let me have it. DUKE SENIOR Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table. ORLANDO 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, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time, If ever you have looked on better days, If ever been where bells have knolled 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. [He sheathes his sword.] DUKE SENIOR True is it that we have seen better days, And have with holy bell been knolled to church, And sat at good men's feasts and wiped our eyes Of drops that sacred pity hath engendered. And therefore sit you down in gentleness, And take upon command what help we have That to your wanting may be ministered. ORLANDO 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 Limped in pure love. Till he be first sufficed, Oppressed with two weak evils, age and hunger, I will not touch a bit. DUKE SENIOR Go find him out, And we will nothing waste till you return. ORLANDO I thank you; and be blessed for your good comfort. [He exits.] DUKE SENIOR Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy. This wide and universal theater Presents more woeful pageants than the scene Wherein we play in. JAQUES All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. Then the whining schoolboy 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' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honor, 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 slippered pantaloon With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice, 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 everything. [Enter Orlando, carrying Adam.] DUKE SENIOR Welcome. Set down your venerable burden, And let him feed. ORLANDO I thank you most for him. ADAM So had you need.-- I scarce can speak to thank you for myself. DUKE SENIOR Welcome. Fall to. I will not trouble you As yet to question you about your fortunes.-- Give us some music, and, good cousin, sing. [The Duke and Orlando continue their conversation, apart.] Song. AMIENS [sings] 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. 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. Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remembered not. 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. DUKE SENIOR, [to Orlando] If that you were the good Sir Rowland's son, As you have whispered faithfully you were, And as mine eye doth his effigies witness Most truly limned 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. [To Lords.] Support him by the arm. [To Orlando.] Give me your hand, And let me all your fortunes understand. [They exit.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, and Oliver.] DUKE FREDERICK, [to Oliver] 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 Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth Of what we think against thee. OLIVER O, that your Highness knew my heart in this: I never loved my brother in my life. DUKE FREDERICK 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. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Orlando, with a paper.] ORLANDO 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. O 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 witnessed everywhere. Run, run, Orlando, carve on every tree The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she. [He exits.] [Enter Corin and Touchstone.] CORIN And how like you this shepherd's life, Master Touchstone? TOUCHSTONE 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, I like it very well; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now in respect 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 humor well; but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd? CORIN 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 nor art may complain of good breeding or comes of a very dull kindred. TOUCHSTONE Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in court, shepherd? CORIN No, truly. TOUCHSTONE Then thou art damned. CORIN Nay, I hope. TOUCHSTONE Truly, thou art damned, like an ill-roasted egg, all on one side. CORIN For not being at court? Your reason. TOUCHSTONE Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never saw'st good manners; if thou never saw'st good manners, then thy manners must be wicked, and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation. Thou art in a parlous state, shepherd. CORIN Not a whit, Touchstone. Those that are good manners at the court are as ridiculous in the country as the behavior of the country is most mockable at the court. You told me you salute not at the court but you kiss your hands. That courtesy would be uncleanly if courtiers were shepherds. TOUCHSTONE Instance, briefly. Come, instance. CORIN Why, we are still handling our ewes, and their fells, you know, are greasy. TOUCHSTONE 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. CORIN Besides, our hands are hard. TOUCHSTONE Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow again. A more sounder instance. Come. CORIN 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. TOUCHSTONE Most shallow man. Thou worms' 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. CORIN You have too courtly a wit for me. I'll rest. TOUCHSTONE Wilt thou rest damned? God help thee, shallow man. God make incision in thee; thou art raw. CORIN Sir, I am a true laborer. 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. TOUCHSTONE That is another simple sin in you, to bring the ewes and the rams together and to offer to 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 be'st not damned for this, the devil himself will have no shepherds. I cannot see else how thou shouldst 'scape. [Enter Rosalind, as Ganymede.] CORIN Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mistress's brother. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede, reading a paper] 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. TOUCHSTONE I'll rhyme you so eight years together, dinners and suppers and sleeping hours excepted. It is the right butter-women's rank to market. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Out, fool. TOUCHSTONE 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. Wintered garments must be lined; So must slender Rosalind. They that reap must sheaf and bind; 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? ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Peace, you dull fool. I found them on a tree. TOUCHSTONE Truly, the tree yields bad fruit. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] I'll graft it with you, and then I shall graft it with a medlar. Then it will be the earliest fruit i' th' country, for you'll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medlar. TOUCHSTONE You have said, but whether wisely or no, let the forest judge. [Enter Celia, as Aliena, with a writing.] ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Peace. Here comes my sister reading. Stand aside. CELIA, [as Aliena, reads] Why should this a desert be? For it is unpeopled? No. Tongues I'll hang on every tree 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, Will I "Rosalinda" write, 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 filled With all graces wide-enlarged. Nature presently distilled Helen's cheek, but not her heart, Cleopatra's majesty, Atalanta's better part, 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. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] O most gentle Jupiter, what tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cried "Have patience, good people!" CELIA, [as Aliena] How now?--Back, friends. Shepherd, go off a little.--Go with him, sirrah. TOUCHSTONE Come, shepherd, let us make an honorable retreat, though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage. [Touchstone and Corin exit.] CELIA Didst thou hear these verses? ROSALIND O yes, I heard them all, and more too, for some of them had in them more feet than the verses would bear. CELIA That's no matter. The feet might bear the verses. ROSALIND Ay, but the feet were lame and could not bear themselves without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse. CELIA But didst thou hear without wondering how thy name should be hanged and carved upon these trees? ROSALIND I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder before you came, for look here what I found on a palm tree. [She shows the paper she read.] I was never so berhymed since Pythagoras' time that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember. CELIA Trow you who hath done this? ROSALIND Is it a man? CELIA And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck. Change you color? ROSALIND I prithee, who? CELIA O Lord, Lord, it is a hard matter for friends to meet, but mountains may be removed with earthquakes and so encounter. ROSALIND Nay, but who is it? CELIA Is it possible? ROSALIND Nay, I prithee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell me who it is. CELIA O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful, and yet again wonderful, and after that out of all whooping! ROSALIND Good my complexion, dost thou think though I am caparisoned like a man, I have a doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of delay more is a South Sea of discovery. I 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. CELIA So you may put a man in your belly. ROSALIND Is he of God's making? What manner of man? Is his head worth a hat, or his chin worth a beard? CELIA Nay, he hath but a little beard. ROSALIND 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. CELIA It is young Orlando, that tripped up the wrestler's heels and your heart both in an instant. ROSALIND Nay, but the devil take mocking. Speak sad brow and true maid. CELIA I' faith, coz, 'tis he. ROSALIND Orlando? CELIA Orlando. ROSALIND Alas the day, what shall I do with my doublet and hose? What did he when thou saw'st him? What said he? How looked he? Wherein went he? What makes he here? Did he ask for me? Where remains he? How parted he with thee? And when shalt thou see him again? Answer me in one word. CELIA You must borrow me Gargantua's mouth first. 'Tis a word too great for any mouth of this age's size. To say ay and no to these particulars is more than to answer in a catechism. ROSALIND 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? CELIA It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the 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. ROSALIND It may well be called Jove's tree when it drops forth such fruit. CELIA Give me audience, good madam. ROSALIND Proceed. CELIA There lay he, stretched along like a wounded knight. ROSALIND Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes the ground. CELIA Cry "holla" to thy tongue, I prithee. It curvets unseasonably. He was furnished like a hunter. ROSALIND O, ominous! He comes to kill my heart. CELIA I would sing my song without a burden. Thou bring'st me out of tune. ROSALIND Do you not know I am a woman? When I think, I must speak. Sweet, say on. CELIA You bring me out. [Enter Orlando and Jaques.] Soft, comes he not here? ROSALIND 'Tis he. Slink by, and note him. [Rosalind and Celia step aside.] JAQUES, [to Orlando] I thank you for your company, but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone. ORLANDO And so had I, but yet, for fashion sake, I thank you too for your society. JAQUES God be wi' you. Let's meet as little as we can. ORLANDO I do desire we may be better strangers. JAQUES I pray you mar no more trees with writing love songs in their barks. ORLANDO I pray you mar no more of my verses with reading them ill-favoredly. JAQUES Rosalind is your love's name? ORLANDO Yes, just. JAQUES I do not like her name. ORLANDO There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christened. JAQUES What stature is she of? ORLANDO Just as high as my heart. JAQUES You are full of pretty answers. Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives and conned them out of rings? ORLANDO Not so. But I answer you right painted cloth, from whence you have studied your questions. JAQUES 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. ORLANDO I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against whom I know most faults. JAQUES The worst fault you have is to be in love. ORLANDO 'Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue. I am weary of you. JAQUES By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I found you. ORLANDO He is drowned in the brook. Look but in, and you shall see him. JAQUES There I shall see mine own figure. ORLANDO Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher. JAQUES I'll tarry no longer with you. Farewell, good Signior Love. ORLANDO I am glad of your departure. Adieu, good Monsieur Melancholy. [Jaques exits.] ROSALIND, [aside to Celia] I will speak to him like a saucy lackey, and under that habit play the knave with him. [As Ganymede.] Do you hear, forester? ORLANDO Very well. What would you? ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] I pray you, what is 't o'clock? ORLANDO You should ask me what time o' day. There's no clock in the forest. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] 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. ORLANDO And why not the swift foot of time? Had not that been as proper? ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] By no means, sir. Time travels in divers paces with divers persons. I'll tell you who time ambles withal, who time trots withal, who time gallops withal, and who he stands still withal. ORLANDO I prithee, who doth he trot withal? ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] 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. ORLANDO Who ambles time withal? ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] With a priest that lacks Latin and a rich man that hath not the gout, for the one sleeps easily because he cannot study, and the other 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. ORLANDO Who doth he gallop withal? ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] With a thief to the gallows, for though he go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there. ORLANDO Who stays it still withal? ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] With lawyers in the vacation, for they sleep between term and term, and then they perceive not how time moves. ORLANDO Where dwell you, pretty youth? ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] With this shepherdess, my sister, here in the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat. ORLANDO Are you native of this place? ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] As the cony that you see dwell where she is kindled. ORLANDO Your accent is something finer than you could purchase in so removed a dwelling. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] 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 offenses as he hath generally taxed their whole sex withal. ORLANDO Can you remember any of the principal evils that he laid to the charge of women? ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] There were none principal. They were all like one another as halfpence are, every one fault seeming monstrous till his fellow fault came to match it. ORLANDO I prithee recount some of them. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] 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 "Rosalind" on their barks, hangs odes upon hawthorns 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. ORLANDO I am he that is so love-shaked. I pray you tell me your remedy. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] 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 prisoner. ORLANDO What were his marks? ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] A lean cheek, which you have not; a blue eye and sunken, which you have not; an unquestionable 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 everything about you demonstrating a careless desolation. But you are no such man. You are rather point-device in your accouterments, as loving yourself than seeming the lover of any other. ORLANDO Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Me believe it? You may as soon make her that you love believe it, which I warrant she is apter to do than to confess she does. That is one of the points in the which women still give the lie to their consciences. But, in good sooth, are you he that hangs the verses on the trees wherein Rosalind is so admired? ORLANDO I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak? ORLANDO Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] 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. ORLANDO Did you ever cure any so? ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Yes, one, and in this manner. He was to imagine me his love, his mistress, and I set him every day to woo me; at which time would I, being but a moonish youth, grieve, be effeminate, changeable, longing and liking, proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles; for every passion something, and for no passion truly anything, as boys and women are, for the most part, cattle of this color; 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 humor of love to a living humor 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. ORLANDO I would not be cured, youth. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] I would cure you if you would but call me Rosalind and come every day to my cote and woo me. ORLANDO Now, by the faith of my love, I will. Tell me where it is. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Go with me to it, and I'll show it you; and by the way you shall tell me where in the forest you live. Will you go? ORLANDO With all my heart, good youth. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Nay, you must call me Rosalind.--Come, sister, will you go? [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Touchstone and Audrey, followed by Jaques.] TOUCHSTONE 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? AUDREY Your features, Lord warrant us! What features? TOUCHSTONE I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths. JAQUES, [aside] O knowledge ill-inhabited, worse than Jove in a thatched house. TOUCHSTONE 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. AUDREY I do not know what "poetical" is. Is it honest in deed and word? Is it a true thing? TOUCHSTONE No, truly, for the truest poetry is the most feigning, and lovers are given to poetry, and what they swear in poetry may be said as lovers they do feign. AUDREY Do you wish, then, that the gods had made me poetical? TOUCHSTONE I do, truly, for thou swear'st to me thou art honest. Now if thou wert a poet, I might have some hope thou didst feign. AUDREY Would you not have me honest? TOUCHSTONE No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favored; for honesty coupled to beauty is to have honey a sauce to sugar. JAQUES, [aside] A material fool. AUDREY Well, I am not fair, and therefore I pray the gods make me honest. TOUCHSTONE Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut were to put good meat into an unclean dish. AUDREY I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am foul. TOUCHSTONE Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness; sluttishness may come hereafter. But be it as it 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. JAQUES, [aside] I would fain see this meeting. AUDREY Well, the gods give us joy. TOUCHSTONE 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 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 honorable than the bare brow of a bachelor. And by how much defense is better than no skill, by so much is a horn more precious than to want. [Enter Sir Oliver Martext.] Here comes Sir Oliver.--Sir Oliver Martext, you are well met. Will you dispatch us here under this tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel? OLIVER MARTEXT Is there none here to give the woman? TOUCHSTONE I will not take her on gift of any man. OLIVER MARTEXT Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is not lawful. JAQUES, [coming forward] Proceed, proceed. I'll give her. TOUCHSTONE Good even, good Monsieur What-you-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. JAQUES Will you be married, motley? TOUCHSTONE 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 be nibbling. JAQUES And will you, being a man of your breeding, 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. TOUCHSTONE I am not in the mind but I were 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. JAQUES Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. TOUCHSTONE Come, sweet Audrey. We must be married, or we must live in bawdry.--Farewell, good Master Oliver, not O sweet Oliver, O brave Oliver, Leave me not behind thee, But Wind away, Begone, I say, I will not to wedding with thee. [Audrey, Touchstone, and Jaques exit.] OLIVER MARTEXT 'Tis no matter. Ne'er a fantastical knave of them all shall flout me out of my calling. [He exits.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Rosalind, dressed as Ganymede, and Celia, dressed as Aliena.] ROSALIND Never talk to me. I will weep. CELIA Do, I prithee, but yet have the grace to consider that tears do not become a man. ROSALIND But have I not cause to weep? CELIA As good cause as one would desire. Therefore weep. ROSALIND His very hair is of the dissembling color. CELIA Something browner than Judas's. Marry, his kisses are Judas's own children. ROSALIND I' faith, his hair is of a good color. CELIA An excellent color. Your chestnut was ever the only color. ROSALIND And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of holy bread. CELIA 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. ROSALIND But why did he swear he would come this morning, and comes not? CELIA Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him. ROSALIND Do you think so? CELIA Yes, I think he is not a pickpurse 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. ROSALIND Not true in love? CELIA Yes, when he is in, but I think he is not in. ROSALIND You have heard him swear downright he was. CELIA "Was" is not "is." Besides, the oath of a lover is no stronger than the word of a tapster. They are both the confirmer of false reckonings. He attends here in the forest on the Duke your father. ROSALIND 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? CELIA O, that's a brave man. He writes brave verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the heart of his lover, as a puny 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. [Enter Corin.] Who comes here? CORIN Mistress and master, you have oft inquired After the shepherd that complained of love, Who you saw sitting by me on the turf, Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess That was his mistress. CELIA, [as Aliena] Well, and what of him? CORIN If you will see a pageant truly played 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. ROSALIND, [aside to Celia] O come, let us remove. The sight of lovers feedeth those in love. [As Ganymede, to Corin.] Bring us to this sight, andyou shall say I'll prove a busy actor in their play. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Silvius and Phoebe.] SILVIUS Sweet Phoebe, do not scorn me. Do not, Phoebe. Say that you love me not, but say not so In bitterness. The common executioner, Whose heart th' accustomed 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, unobserved, Rosalind as Ganymede, Celia as Aliena, and Corin.] PHOEBE 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. 'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things, Who shut their coward gates on atomies, Should be called 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. Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains Some scar of it. Lean 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. SILVIUS O dear Phoebe, 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 That love's keen arrows make. PHOEBE But till that time Come not thou near me. And when that time comes, Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not, As till that time I shall not pity thee. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede, coming forward] 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? Why, what means this? Why do you look on me? I see no more in you than in the ordinary Of nature's sale-work.--'Od's my little life, I think she means to tangle my eyes, too.-- No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it. 'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair, Your bugle 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? You are a thousand times a properer man Than she a woman. 'Tis such fools as you That makes the world full of ill-favored 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. 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. PHOEBE Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year together. I had rather hear you chide than this man woo. ROSALIND[,as Ganymede] He's fall'n in love with your foulness. [(To Silvius.)] And she'll fall in love with my anger. If it be so, as fast as she answers thee with frowning looks, I'll sauce her with bitter words. [(To Phoebe.)] Why look you so upon me? PHOEBE For no ill will I bear you. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] I pray you, do not fall in love with me, For I am falser than vows made in wine. Besides, I like you not. If you will know my house, 'Tis at the tuft of olives, here hard by.-- Will you go, sister?--Shepherd, ply her hard.-- Come, sister.--Shepherdess, look on him better, And be not proud. Though all the world could see, None could be so abused in sight as he.-- Come, to our flock. [She exits, with Celia and Corin.] PHOEBE, [aside] Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might: "Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?" SILVIUS Sweet Phoebe-- PHOEBE Ha, what sayst thou, Silvius? SILVIUS Sweet Phoebe, pity me. PHOEBE Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. SILVIUS 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. PHOEBE Thou hast my love. Is not that neighborly? SILVIUS I would have you. PHOEBE 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 employed. SILVIUS So holy and so perfect is my love, And I in such a poverty of grace, 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 A scattered smile, and that I'll live upon. PHOEBE Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me erewhile? SILVIUS Not very well, but I have met him oft, And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds That the old carlot once was master of. PHOEBE Think not I love him, though I ask for him. 'Tis but a peevish boy--yet he talks well-- 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 offense, 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, A little riper and more lusty red Than that mixed in his cheek: 'twas just the difference Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask. There be some women, Silvius, had they marked 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, And now I am remembered, scorned at me. I marvel why I answered 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? SILVIUS Phoebe, with all my heart. PHOEBE I'll 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. [They exit.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Rosalind as Ganymede, and Celia as Aliena, and Jaques.] JAQUES I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with thee. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] They say you are a melancholy fellow. JAQUES I am so. I do love it better than laughing. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Those that are in extremity of either are abominable fellows and betray themselves to every modern censure worse than drunkards. JAQUES Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Why then, 'tis good to be a post. JAQUES I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which 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; 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. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] 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. JAQUES Yes, I have gained my experience. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] And your experience makes you sad. I had rather have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad--and to travel for it too. [Enter Orlando.] ORLANDO Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind. JAQUES Nay then, God be wi' you, an you talk in blank verse. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] 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. [Jaques exits.] Why, how now, Orlando, where have you been all this while? You a lover? An you serve me such another trick, never come in my sight more. ORLANDO My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Break an hour's promise in love? He that will divide a minute into a thousand parts and break but a part of the thousand part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said of him that Cupid hath clapped him o' th' shoulder, but I'll warrant him heart-whole. ORLANDO Pardon me, dear Rosalind. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight. I had as lief be wooed of a snail. ORLANDO Of a snail? ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Ay, of a snail, for though he comes slowly, he carries his house on his head--a better jointure, I think, than you make a woman. Besides, he brings his destiny with him. ORLANDO What's that? ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Why, horns, which such as you are fain to be beholding to your wives for. But he comes armed in his fortune and prevents the slander of his wife. ORLANDO Virtue is no hornmaker, and my Rosalind is virtuous. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] And I am your Rosalind. CELIA, [as Aliena] It pleases him to call you so, but he hath a Rosalind of a better leer than you. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede, to Orlando] Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday humor, and like enough to consent. What would you say to me now an I were your very, very Rosalind? ORLANDO I would kiss before I spoke. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] 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 lacking--God warn us--matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss. ORLANDO How if the kiss be denied? ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter. ORLANDO Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress? ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Marry, that should you if I were your mistress, or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit. ORLANDO What, of my suit? ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit. Am not I your Rosalind? ORLANDO I take some joy to say you are because I would be talking of her. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Well, in her person I say I will not have you. ORLANDO Then, in mine own person I die. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] 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 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 chroniclers 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. ORLANDO I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind, for I protest her frown might kill me. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] 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. ORLANDO Then love me, Rosalind. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all. ORLANDO And wilt thou have me? ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Ay, and twenty such. ORLANDO What sayest thou? ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Are you not good? ORLANDO I hope so. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] 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? ORLANDO, [to Celia] Pray thee marry us. CELIA, [as Aliena] I cannot say the words. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] You must begin "Will you, Orlando--" CELIA, [as Aliena] Go to.--Will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rosalind? ORLANDO I will. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Ay, but when? ORLANDO Why now, as fast as she can marry us. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Then you must say "I take thee, Rosalind, for wife." ORLANDO I take thee, Rosalind, for wife. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] 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 woman's thought runs before her actions. ORLANDO So do all thoughts. They are winged. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Now tell me how long you would have her after you have possessed her? ORLANDO Forever and a day. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Say "a day" without the "ever." No, no, 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 than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen, more clamorous than a parrot against rain, more newfangled 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 hyena, and that when thou art inclined to sleep. ORLANDO But will my Rosalind do so? ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] By my life, she will do as I do. ORLANDO O, but she is wise. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] 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 keyhole. Stop that, 'twill fly with the smoke out at the chimney. ORLANDO A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say "Wit, whither wilt?" ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Nay, you might keep that check for it till you met your wife's wit going to your neighbor's bed. ORLANDO And what wit could wit have to excuse that? ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] 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. ORLANDO For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours. ORLANDO I must attend the Duke at dinner. By two o'clock I will be with thee again. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] 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? ORLANDO Ay, sweet Rosalind. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] 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 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. ORLANDO With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my Rosalind. So, adieu. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Well, time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let time try. Adieu. [Orlando exits.] CELIA You have simply misused our sex in your love-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. ROSALIND 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. CELIA Or rather bottomless, that as fast as you pour affection in, it runs out. ROSALIND No, that same wicked bastard of Venus, that was begot of thought, conceived of spleen, and born of madness, that blind rascally boy that abuses everyone'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'll go find a shadow and sigh till he come. CELIA And I'll sleep. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Jaques and Lords, like foresters.] JAQUES Which is he that killed the deer? FIRST LORD Sir, it was I. JAQUES, [to the other Lords] 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? SECOND LORD Yes, sir. JAQUES Sing it. 'Tis no matter how it be in tune, so it make noise enough. Music. Song. SECOND LORD [sings] What shall he have that killed the deer? His leather skin and horns to wear. Then sing him home. [The rest shall bear this burden:] 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. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Rosalind dressed as Ganymede and Celia dressed as Aliena.] ROSALIND How say you now? Is it not past two o'clock? And here much Orlando. CELIA I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain he hath ta'en his bow and arrows and is gone forth to sleep. [Enter Silvius.] Look who comes here. SILVIUS, [to Rosalind] My errand is to you, fair youth. My gentle Phoebe did bid me give you this. [He gives Rosalind a paper.] 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, It bears an angry tenor. Pardon me. I am but as a guiltless messenger. [Rosalind reads the letter.] ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] 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 phoenix. 'Od's my will, Her love is not the hare that I do hunt. Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well, This is a letter of your own device. SILVIUS No, I protest. I know not the contents. Phoebe did write it. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Come, come, you are a fool, And turned into the extremity of love. I saw her hand. She has a leathern hand, A freestone-colored 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. SILVIUS Sure it is hers. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] 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 Ethiop words, blacker in their effect Than in their countenance. Will you hear the letter? SILVIUS So please you, for I never heard it yet, Yet heard too much of Phoebe's cruelty. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] She Phoebes me. Mark how the tyrant writes. [Read.] Art thou god to shepherd turned, That a maiden's heart hath burned? Can a woman rail thus? SILVIUS Call you this railing? ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] [Read.] 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. If the scorn of your bright eyne Have power to raise such love in mine, Alack, in me what strange effect Would they work in mild aspect? Whiles you chid 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 Of me, and all that I can make, Or else by him my love deny, And then I'll study how to die. SILVIUS Call you this chiding? CELIA, [as Aliena] Alas, poor shepherd. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] 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 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. [Silvius exits.] [Enter Oliver.] OLIVER Good morrow, fair ones. Pray you, if you know, Where in the purlieus of this forest stands A sheepcote fenced about with olive trees? CELIA, [as Aliena] West of this place, down in the neighbor bottom; The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream Left on your right hand brings you to the place. But at this hour the house doth keep itself. There's none within. OLIVER 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 favor, 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 inquire for? CELIA, [as Aliena] It is no boast, being asked, to say we are. OLIVER Orlando doth commend him to you both, And to that youth he calls his Rosalind He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he? [He shows a stained handkerchief.] ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] I am. What must we understand by this? OLIVER Some of my shame, if you will know of me What man I am, and how, and why, and where This handkercher was stained. CELIA, [as Aliena] I pray you tell it. OLIVER When last the young Orlando parted from you, He left a promise to return again Within an hour, and pacing through the forest, Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy, Lo, what befell. He threw his eye aside-- And mark what object did present itself: Under an old oak, whose boughs were mossed 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, approached The opening of his mouth. But suddenly, Seeing Orlando, it unlinked 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 And found it was his brother, his elder brother. CELIA, [as Aliena] O, I have heard him speak of that same brother, And he did render him the most unnatural That lived amongst men. OLIVER And well he might so do, For well I know he was unnatural. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] But to Orlando: did he leave him there, Food to the sucked and hungry lioness? OLIVER Twice did he turn his back and purposed so, But kindness, nobler ever than revenge, And nature, stronger than his just occasion, Made him give battle to the lioness, Who quickly fell before him; in which hurtling, From miserable slumber I awaked. CELIA, [as Aliena] Are you his brother? ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Was 't you he rescued? CELIA, [as Aliena] Was 't you that did so oft contrive to kill him? OLIVER '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. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] But for the bloody napkin? OLIVER By and by. When from the first to last betwixt us two Tears our recountments 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 stripped 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. Brief, I recovered him, bound up his wound, And after some small space, being strong at heart, He sent me hither, stranger as I am, To tell 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 faints.] CELIA, [as Aliena] Why, how now, Ganymede, sweet Ganymede? OLIVER Many will swoon when they do look on blood. CELIA, [as Aliena] There is more in it.--Cousin Ganymede. OLIVER Look, he recovers. ROSALIND I would I were at home. CELIA, [as Aliena] We'll lead you thither.--I pray you, will you take him by the arm? OLIVER, [helping Rosalind to rise] Be of good cheer, youth. You a man? You lack a man's heart. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] 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 counterfeited. Heigh-ho. OLIVER This was not counterfeit. There is too great testimony in your complexion that it was a passion of earnest. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Counterfeit, I assure you. OLIVER Well then, take a good heart, and counterfeit to be a man. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] So I do; but, i' faith, I should have been a woman by right. CELIA, [as Aliena] Come, you look paler and paler. Pray you draw homewards.--Good sir, go with us. OLIVER That will I, for I must bear answer back How you excuse my brother, Rosalind. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] I shall devise something. But I pray you commend my counterfeiting to him. Will you go? [They exit.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Touchstone and Audrey.] TOUCHSTONE We shall find a time, Audrey. Patience, gentle Audrey. AUDREY Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old gentleman's saying. TOUCHSTONE A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a most vile Martext. But Audrey, there is a youth here in the forest lays claim to you. AUDREY Ay, I know who 'tis. He hath no interest in me in the world. [Enter William.] Here comes the man you mean. TOUCHSTONE It is meat and drink to me to see a clown. By my troth, we that have good wits have much to answer for. We shall be flouting. We cannot hold. WILLIAM Good ev'n, Audrey. AUDREY God gi' good ev'n, William. WILLIAM, [to Touchstone] And good ev'n to you, sir. TOUCHSTONE Good ev'n, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy head. Nay, prithee, be covered. How old are you, friend? WILLIAM Five-and-twenty, sir. TOUCHSTONE A ripe age. Is thy name William? WILLIAM William, sir. TOUCHSTONE A fair name. Wast born i' th' forest here? WILLIAM Ay, sir, I thank God. TOUCHSTONE "Thank God." A good answer. Art rich? WILLIAM 'Faith sir, so-so. TOUCHSTONE "So-so" is good, very good, very excellent good. And yet it is not: it is but so-so. Art thou wise? WILLIAM Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit. TOUCHSTONE Why, thou sayst 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? WILLIAM I do, sir. TOUCHSTONE Give me your hand. Art thou learned? WILLIAM No, sir. TOUCHSTONE 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. WILLIAM Which he, sir? TOUCHSTONE He, sir, that must marry this woman. Therefore, you clown, abandon--which is in the 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'errun thee with policy. I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways. Therefore tremble and depart. AUDREY Do, good William. WILLIAM, [to Touchstone] God rest you merry, sir. [He exits.] [Enter Corin.] CORIN Our master and mistress seeks you. Come away, away. TOUCHSTONE Trip, Audrey, trip, Audrey.--I attend, I attend. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Orlando, with his arm in a sling, and Oliver.] ORLANDO 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? OLIVER 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 may enjoy each other. It shall be to your good, 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. [Enter Rosalind, as Ganymede.] ORLANDO You have my consent. Let your wedding be tomorrow. Thither will I invite the Duke and all 's contented followers. Go you and prepare Aliena, for, look you, here comes my Rosalind. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede, to Oliver] God save you, brother. OLIVER And you, fair sister. [He exits.] ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] O my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee wear thy heart in a scarf. ORLANDO It is my arm. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] I thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws of a lion. ORLANDO Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to swoon when he showed me your handkercher? ORLANDO Ay, and greater wonders than that. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] O, I know where you are. Nay, 'tis true. There was never anything 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 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. ORLANDO They shall be married tomorrow, and I will bid the Duke to the nuptial. But O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes. By so much the more shall I tomorrow be at the height of heart-heaviness by how much I shall think my brother happy in having what he wishes for. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Why, then, tomorrow I cannot serve your turn for Rosalind? ORLANDO I can live no longer by thinking. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] 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 of good conceit. I speak not this that you should bear a good opinion of my knowledge, insomuch I say I know you are. Neither do I labor 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 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 tomorrow, human as she is, and without any danger. ORLANDO Speak'st thou in sober meanings? ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] 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 tomorrow, you shall, and to Rosalind, if you will. [Enter Silvius and Phoebe.] Look, here comes a lover of mine and a lover of hers. PHOEBE, [to Rosalind] Youth, you have done me much ungentleness To show the letter that I writ to you. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] 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. PHOEBE, [to Silvius] Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love. SILVIUS It is to be all made of sighs and tears, And so am I for Phoebe. PHOEBE And I for Ganymede. ORLANDO And I for Rosalind. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] And I for no woman. SILVIUS It is to be all made of faith and service, And so am I for Phoebe. PHOEBE And I for Ganymede. ORLANDO And I for Rosalind. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] And I for no woman. SILVIUS It is to be all made of fantasy, 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 Phoebe. PHOEBE And so am I for Ganymede. ORLANDO And so am I for Rosalind. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] And so am I for no woman. PHOEBE If this be so, why blame you me to love you? SILVIUS If this be so, why blame you me to love you? ORLANDO If this be so, why blame you me to love you? ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Why do you speak too, "Why blame you me to love you?" ORLANDO To her that is not here, nor doth not hear. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Pray you, no more of this. 'Tis like the howling of Irish wolves against the moon. [(To Silvius.)] I will help you if I can. [(To Phoebe.)] I would love you if I could.--Tomorrow meet me all together. [(To Phoebe.)] I will marry you if ever I marry woman, and I'll be married tomorrow. [(To Orlando.)] I will satisfy you if ever I satisfy man, and you shall be married tomorrow. [(To Silvius.)] I will content you, if what pleases you contents you, and you shall be married tomorrow. [(To Orlando.)] As you love Rosalind, meet. [(To Silvius.)] As you love Phoebe, meet.--And as I love no woman, I'll meet. So fare you well. I have left you commands. SILVIUS I'll not fail, if I live. PHOEBE Nor I. ORLANDO Nor I. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Touchstone and Audrey.] TOUCHSTONE Tomorrow is the joyful day, Audrey. Tomorrow will we be married. AUDREY 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. [Enter two Pages.] Here come two of the banished duke's pages. FIRST PAGE Well met, honest gentleman. TOUCHSTONE By my troth, well met. Come, sit, sit, and a song. SECOND PAGE We are for you. Sit i' th' middle. [They sit.] 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? SECOND PAGE I' faith, i' faith, and both in a tune like two gypsies on a horse. Song. PAGES [sing] It was a lover and his lass, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey-nonny-no, That o'er the green cornfield did pass In springtime, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding. Sweet lovers love the spring. Between the acres of the rye, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey-nonny-no, These pretty country folks would lie In springtime, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding. Sweet lovers love the spring. This carol they began that hour, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey-nonny-no, How that a life was but a flower In springtime, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding. Sweet lovers love the spring. And therefore take the present time, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey-nonny-no, For love is crowned with the prime, In springtime, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding. Sweet lovers love the spring. TOUCHSTONE Truly, young gentlemen, though there was no great matter in the ditty, yet the note was very untunable. FIRST PAGE You are deceived, sir. We kept time. We lost not our time. TOUCHSTONE By my troth, yes. I count it but time lost to hear such a foolish song. God be wi' you, and God mend your voices.--Come, Audrey. [They rise and exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, Jaques, Orlando, Oliver, and Celia as Aliena.] DUKE SENIOR Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy Can do all this that he hath promised? ORLANDO I sometimes do believe and sometimes do not, As those that fear they hope, and know they fear. [Enter Rosalind as Ganymede, Silvius, and Phoebe.] ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] Patience once more whiles our compact is urged. [To Duke.] You say, if I bring in your Rosalind, You will bestow her on Orlando here? DUKE SENIOR That would I, had I kingdoms to give with her. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede, to Orlando] And you say you will have her when I bring her? ORLANDO That would I, were I of all kingdoms king. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede, to Phoebe] You say you'll marry me if I be willing? PHOEBE That will I, should I die the hour after. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] But if you do refuse to marry me, You'll give yourself to this most faithful shepherd? PHOEBE So is the bargain. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede, to Silvius] You say that you'll have Phoebe if she will? SILVIUS Though to have her and death were both one thing. ROSALIND, [as Ganymede] 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.-- Keep you your word, Phoebe, that you'll 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. [Rosalind and Celia exit.] DUKE SENIOR I do remember in this shepherd boy Some lively touches of my daughter's favor. ORLANDO 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 And hath been tutored 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.] JAQUES 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. TOUCHSTONE Salutation and greeting to you all. JAQUES, [to Duke] Good my lord, bid him welcome. This is the motley-minded gentleman that I have so often met in the forest. He hath been a courtier, he swears. TOUCHSTONE 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 undone three tailors. I have had four quarrels, and like to have fought one. JAQUES And how was that ta'en up? TOUCHSTONE Faith, we met and found the quarrel was upon the seventh cause. JAQUES How "seventh cause"?--Good my lord, like this fellow. DUKE SENIOR I like him very well. TOUCHSTONE 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-favored thing, sir, but mine own. A poor humor 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 SENIOR By my faith, he is very swift and sententious. TOUCHSTONE According to the fool's bolt, sir, and such dulcet diseases. JAQUES But for the seventh cause. How did you find the quarrel on the seventh cause? TOUCHSTONE Upon a lie seven times removed.--Bear your 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 judgment. This is called "the reply churlish." If again it was not well 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." JAQUES And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut? TOUCHSTONE I durst go no further than the lie circumstantial, nor he durst not give me the lie direct, and so we measured swords and parted. JAQUES Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie? TOUCHSTONE 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 courteous"; the second, "the quip modest"; the third, "the reply churlish"; the fourth, "the reproof valiant"; the fifth, "the countercheck quarrelsome"; the sixth, "the lie with circumstance"; the seventh, "the lie direct." All these you may 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 peacemaker: much virtue in "if." JAQUES, [to Duke] Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? He's as good at anything and yet a fool. DUKE SENIOR 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.] HYMEN Then is there mirth in heaven When earthly things made even Atone together. Good duke, receive thy daughter. Hymen from heaven brought her, Yea, brought her hither, That thou mightst join her hand with his, Whose heart within his bosom is. ROSALIND, [to Duke] To you I give myself, for I am yours. [To Orlando.] To you I give myself, for I am yours. DUKE SENIOR If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter. ORLANDO If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind. PHOEBE If sight and shape be true, Why then, my love adieu. ROSALIND, [to Duke] I'll have no father, if you be not he. [To Orlando.] I'll have no husband, if you be not he, [To Phoebe.] Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she. HYMEN 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. [To Rosalind and Orlando.] You and you no cross shall part. [To Celia and Oliver.] You and you are heart in heart. [To Phoebe.] You to his love must accord Or have a woman to your lord. [To Audrey and Touchstone.] You and you are sure together As the winter to foul weather. [To All.] Whiles a wedlock hymn we sing, Feed yourselves with questioning, That reason wonder may diminish How thus we met, and these things finish. Song. Wedding is great Juno's crown, O blessed bond of board and bed. 'Tis Hymen peoples every town. High wedlock then be honored. Honor, high honor, and renown To Hymen, god of every town. DUKE SENIOR, [to Celia] O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me, Even daughter, welcome in no less degree. PHOEBE, [to Silvius] I will not eat my word. Now thou art mine, Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. [Enter Second Brother, Jaques de Boys.] SECOND BROTHER 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 Men of great worth resorted to this forest, Addressed 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 banished brother, And all their lands restored to them again That were with him exiled. This to be true I do engage my life. DUKE SENIOR Welcome, young man. 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 According to the measure of their states. Meantime, forget this new-fall'n dignity, And fall into our rustic revelry.-- Play, music.--And you brides and bridegrooms all, With measure heaped in joy to th' measures fall. JAQUES, [to Second Brother] Sir, by your patience: if I heard you rightly, The Duke hath put on a religious life And thrown into neglect the pompous court. SECOND BROTHER He hath. JAQUES To him will I. Out of these convertites There is much matter to be heard and learned. [To Duke.] You to your former honor I bequeath; Your patience and your virtue well deserves it. [To Orlando.] You to a love that your true faith doth merit. [To Oliver.] You to your land, and love, and great allies. [To Silvius.] You to a long and well-deserved bed. [To Touchstone.] And you to wrangling, for thy loving voyage Is but for two months victualled.--So to your pleasures. I am for other than for dancing measures. DUKE SENIOR Stay, Jaques, stay. JAQUES To see no pastime, I. What you would have I'll stay to know at your abandoned cave. [He exits.] DUKE SENIOR Proceed, proceed. We'll begin these rites, As we do trust they'll end, in true delights. [Dance. All but Rosalind exit.] EPILOGUE. ========= ROSALIND 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 will not become me. My way is to conjure you, and I'll 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 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. [She exits.]

Coriolanus by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== Caius MARTIUS, later Caius Martius CORIOLANUS VOLUMNIA, his mother VIRGILIA, his wife YOUNG MARTIUS, their son VALERIA, friend to Volumnia and Virgilia A GENTLEWOMAN, Volumnia's attendant MENENIUS Agrippa, patrician COMINIUS, patrician and general Titus LARTIUS, patrician and military officer SICINIUS Velutus, tribune Junius BRUTUS, tribune Roman SENATORS, PATRICIANS, NOBLES Roman LIEUTENANT Roman OFFICERS Roman AEDILES Roman HERALD Roman SOLDIERS Roman CITIZENS or PLEBEIANS Roman MESSENGERS A ROMAN defector, Nicanor Tullus AUFIDIUS, general of the Volscians Volscian CONSPIRATORS of his faction Three of his SERVINGMEN Volscian SENATORS, LORDS Volscian LIEUTENANT Volscian SOLDIERS Two of the Volscian WATCH Volscian PEOPLE A VOLSCIAN spy, Adrian CITIZEN of Antium Roman Lords, Gentry, Captains, Lictors, Trumpeters, Drummers, Musicians, Attendants, and Usher ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter a company of mutinous Citizens with staves, clubs, and other weapons.] FIRST CITIZEN Before we proceed any further, hear me speak. ALL Speak, speak! FIRST CITIZEN You are all resolved rather to die than to famish? ALL Resolved, resolved! FIRST CITIZEN First, you know Caius Martius is chief enemy to the people. ALL We know 't, we know 't! FIRST CITIZEN Let us kill him, and we'll have corn at our own price. Is 't a verdict? ALL No more talking on 't; let it be done. Away, away! SECOND CITIZEN One word, good citizens. FIRST CITIZEN We are accounted poor citizens, the patricians good. What authority surfeits on would relieve us. If they would yield us but the superfluity while it were wholesome, we might guess they relieved us humanely. But they think we are too dear. The leanness that afflicts us, the object of our misery, is as an inventory to particularize their abundance; our sufferance is a gain to them. Let us revenge this with our pikes ere we become rakes; for the gods know I speak this in hunger for bread, not in thirst for revenge. SECOND CITIZEN Would you proceed especially against Caius Martius? ALL Against him first. He's a very dog to the commonalty. SECOND CITIZEN Consider you what services he has done for his country? FIRST CITIZEN Very well, and could be content to give him good report for 't, but that he pays himself with being proud. SECOND CITIZEN Nay, but speak not maliciously. FIRST CITIZEN I say unto you, what he hath done famously he did it to that end. Though soft-conscienced men can be content to say it was for his country, he did it to please his mother and to be partly proud, which he is, even to the altitude of his virtue. SECOND CITIZEN What he cannot help in his nature you account a vice in him. You must in no way say he is covetous. FIRST CITIZEN If I must not, I need not be barren of accusations. He hath faults, with surplus, to tire in repetition. [(Shouts within.)] What shouts are these? The other side o' th' city is risen. Why stay we prating here? To th' Capitol! ALL Come, come! [Enter Menenius Agrippa.] FIRST CITIZEN Soft, who comes here? SECOND CITIZEN Worthy Menenius Agrippa, one that hath always loved the people. FIRST CITIZEN He's one honest enough. Would all the rest were so! MENENIUS What work 's, my countrymen, in hand? Where go you With bats and clubs? The matter? Speak, I pray you. SECOND CITIZEN Our business is not unknown to th' Senate. They have had inkling this fortnight what we intend to do, which now we'll show 'em in deeds. They say poor suitors have strong breaths; they shall know we have strong arms too. MENENIUS Why, masters, my good friends, mine honest neighbors, Will you undo yourselves? SECOND CITIZEN We cannot, sir; we are undone already. MENENIUS I tell you, friends, most charitable care Have the patricians of you. For your wants, Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well Strike at the heaven with your staves as lift them Against the Roman state, whose course will on The way it takes, cracking ten thousand curbs Of more strong link asunder than can ever Appear in your impediment. For the dearth, The gods, not the patricians, make it, and Your knees to them, not arms, must help. Alack, You are transported by calamity Thither where more attends you, and you slander The helms o' th' state, who care for you like fathers, When you curse them as enemies. SECOND CITIZEN Care for us? True, indeed! They ne'er cared for us yet. Suffer us to famish, and their storehouses crammed with grain; make edicts for usury to support usurers; repeal daily any wholesome act established against the rich, and provide more piercing statutes daily to chain up and restrain the poor. If the wars eat us not up, they will; and there's all the love they bear us. MENENIUS Either you must confess yourselves wondrous malicious Or be accused of folly. I shall tell you A pretty tale. It may be you have heard it, But since it serves my purpose, I will venture To stale 't a little more. SECOND CITIZEN Well, I'll hear it, sir; yet you must not think to fob off our disgrace with a tale. But, an 't please you, deliver. MENENIUS There was a time when all the body's members Rebelled against the belly, thus accused it: That only like a gulf it did remain I' th' midst o' th' body, idle and unactive, Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing Like labor with the rest, where th' other instruments Did see and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel, And, mutually participate, did minister Unto the appetite and affection common Of the whole body. The belly answered-- SECOND CITIZEN Well, sir, what answer made the belly? MENENIUS Sir, I shall tell you. With a kind of smile, Which ne'er came from the lungs, but even thus-- For, look you, I may make the belly smile As well as speak--it tauntingly replied To th' discontented members, the mutinous parts That envied his receipt; even so most fitly As you malign our senators for that They are not such as you. SECOND CITIZEN Your belly's answer--what? The kingly crowned head, the vigilant eye, The counselor heart, the arm our soldier, Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter, With other muniments and petty helps In this our fabric, if that they-- MENENIUS What then? 'Fore me, this fellow speaks. What then? What then? SECOND CITIZEN Should by the cormorant belly be restrained, Who is the sink o' th' body-- MENENIUS Well, what then? SECOND CITIZEN The former agents, if they did complain, What could the belly answer? MENENIUS I will tell you, If you'll bestow a small--of what you have little-- Patience awhile, you'st hear the belly's answer. SECOND CITIZEN You're long about it. MENENIUS Note me this, good friend; Your most grave belly was deliberate, Not rash like his accusers, and thus answered: "True is it, my incorporate friends," quoth he, "That I receive the general food at first Which you do live upon; and fit it is, Because I am the storehouse and the shop Of the whole body. But, if you do remember, I send it through the rivers of your blood Even to the court, the heart, to th' seat o' th' brain; And, through the cranks and offices of man, The strongest nerves and small inferior veins From me receive that natural competency Whereby they live. And though that all at once, You, my good friends"--this says the belly, mark me-- SECOND CITIZEN Ay, sir, well, well. MENENIUS "Though all at once cannot See what I do deliver out to each, Yet I can make my audit up, that all From me do back receive the flour of all, And leave me but the bran." What say you to 't? SECOND CITIZEN It was an answer. How apply you this? MENENIUS The senators of Rome are this good belly, And you the mutinous members. For examine Their counsels and their cares, digest things rightly Touching the weal o' th' common, you shall find No public benefit which you receive But it proceeds or comes from them to you And no way from yourselves. What do you think, You, the great toe of this assembly? SECOND CITIZEN I the great toe? Why the great toe? MENENIUS For that, being one o' th' lowest, basest, poorest, Of this most wise rebellion, thou goest foremost. Thou rascal, that art worst in blood to run, Lead'st first to win some vantage. But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs. Rome and her rats are at the point of battle; The one side must have bale. [Enter Caius Martius.] Hail, noble Martius. MARTIUS Thanks.--What's the matter, you dissentious rogues, That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion, Make yourselves scabs? SECOND CITIZEN We have ever your good word. MARTIUS He that will give good words to thee will flatter Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you curs, That like nor peace nor war? The one affrights you; The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you, Where he should find you lions, finds you hares; Where foxes, geese. You are no surer, no, Than is the coal of fire upon the ice Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is To make him worthy whose offense subdues him, And curse that justice did it. Who deserves greatness Deserves your hate; and your affections are A sick man's appetite, who desires most that Which would increase his evil. He that depends Upon your favors swims with fins of lead, And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang you! Trust you? With every minute you do change a mind And call him noble that was now your hate, Him vile that was your garland. What's the matter, That in these several places of the city You cry against the noble senate, who, Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else Would feed on one another?--What's their seeking? MENENIUS For corn at their own rates, whereof they say The city is well stored. MARTIUS Hang 'em! They say? They'll sit by th' fire and presume to know What's done i' th' Capitol, who's like to rise, Who thrives, and who declines; side factions and give out Conjectural marriages, making parties strong And feebling such as stand not in their liking Below their cobbled shoes. They say there's grain enough? Would the nobility lay aside their ruth And let me use my sword, I'd make a quarry With thousands of these quartered slaves as high As I could pick my lance. MENENIUS Nay, these are almost thoroughly persuaded; For though abundantly they lack discretion, Yet are they passing cowardly. But I beseech you, What says the other troop? MARTIUS They are dissolved. Hang 'em! They said they were an-hungry, sighed forth proverbs That hunger broke stone walls, that dogs must eat, That meat was made for mouths, that the gods sent not Corn for the rich men only. With these shreds They vented their complainings, which being answered And a petition granted them--a strange one, To break the heart of generosity And make bold power look pale--they threw their caps As they would hang them on the horns o' th' moon, Shouting their emulation. MENENIUS What is granted them? MARTIUS Five tribunes to defend their vulgar wisdoms, Of their own choice. One's Junius Brutus, Sicinius Velutus, and I know not. 'Sdeath! The rabble should have first unroofed the city Ere so prevailed with me. It will in time Win upon power and throw forth greater themes For insurrection's arguing. MENENIUS This is strange. MARTIUS Go get you home, you fragments. [Enter a Messenger hastily.] MESSENGER Where's Caius Martius? MARTIUS Here. What's the matter? MESSENGER The news is, sir, the Volsces are in arms. MARTIUS I am glad on 't. Then we shall ha' means to vent Our musty superfluity. [Enter Sicinius Velutus, Junius Brutus, (two Tribunes); Cominius, Titus Lartius, with other Senators.] See our best elders. FIRST SENATOR Martius, 'tis true that you have lately told us: The Volsces are in arms. MARTIUS They have a leader, Tullus Aufidius, that will put you to 't. I sin in envying his nobility, And, were I anything but what I am, I would wish me only he. COMINIUS You have fought together? MARTIUS Were half to half the world by th' ears and he Upon my party, I'd revolt, to make Only my wars with him. He is a lion That I am proud to hunt. FIRST SENATOR Then, worthy Martius, Attend upon Cominius to these wars. COMINIUS It is your former promise. MARTIUS Sir, it is, And I am constant.--Titus Lartius, thou Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus' face. What, art thou stiff? Stand'st out? LARTIUS No, Caius Martius, I'll lean upon one crutch and fight with t' other Ere stay behind this business. MENENIUS O, true bred! FIRST SENATOR Your company to th' Capitol, where I know Our greatest friends attend us. LARTIUS, [to Cominius] Lead you on.-- [To Martius.] Follow Cominius. We must follow you; Right worthy you priority. COMINIUS Noble Martius. FIRST SENATOR, [to the Citizens] Hence to your homes, begone. MARTIUS Nay, let them follow. The Volsces have much corn; take these rats thither To gnaw their garners. [Citizens steal away.] Worshipful mutineers, Your valor puts well forth.--Pray follow. [They exit. Sicinius and Brutus remain.] SICINIUS Was ever man so proud as is this Martius? BRUTUS He has no equal. SICINIUS When we were chosen tribunes for the people-- BRUTUS Marked you his lip and eyes? SICINIUS Nay, but his taunts. BRUTUS Being moved, he will not spare to gird the gods-- SICINIUS Bemock the modest moon. BRUTUS The present wars devour him! He is grown Too proud to be so valiant. SICINIUS Such a nature, Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow Which he treads on at noon. But I do wonder His insolence can brook to be commanded Under Cominius. BRUTUS Fame, at the which he aims, In whom already he's well graced, cannot Better be held nor more attained than by A place below the first; for what miscarries Shall be the General's fault, though he perform To th' utmost of a man, and giddy censure Will then cry out of Martius "O, if he Had borne the business!" SICINIUS Besides, if things go well, Opinion that so sticks on Martius shall Of his demerits rob Cominius. BRUTUS Come. Half all Cominius' honors are to Martius, Though Martius earned them not, and all his faults To Martius shall be honors, though indeed In aught he merit not. SICINIUS Let's hence and hear How the dispatch is made, and in what fashion, More than his singularity, he goes Upon this present action. BRUTUS Let's along. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Tullus Aufidius with Senators of Corioles.] FIRST SENATOR So, your opinion is, Aufidius, That they of Rome are entered in our counsels And know how we proceed. AUFIDIUS Is it not yours? Whatever have been thought on in this state That could be brought to bodily act ere Rome Had circumvention? 'Tis not four days gone Since I heard thence. These are the words--I think I have the letter here. Yes, here it is. [(He reads.)] They have pressed a power, but it is not known Whether for east or west. The dearth is great. The people mutinous; and, it is rumored, Cominius, Martius your old enemy, Who is of Rome worse hated than of you, And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman, These three lead on this preparation Whither 'tis bent. Most likely 'tis for you. Consider of it. FIRST SENATOR Our army's in the field. We never yet made doubt but Rome was ready To answer us. AUFIDIUS Nor did you think it folly To keep your great pretenses veiled till when They needs must show themselves, which, in the hatching, It seemed, appeared to Rome. By the discovery We shall be shortened in our aim, which was To take in many towns ere almost Rome Should know we were afoot. SECOND SENATOR Noble Aufidius, Take your commission; hie you to your bands. Let us alone to guard Corioles. If they set down before 's, for the remove Bring up your army. But I think you'll find They've not prepared for us. AUFIDIUS O, doubt not that; I speak from certainties. Nay, more, Some parcels of their power are forth already, And only hitherward. I leave your Honors. If we and Caius Martius chance to meet, 'Tis sworn between us we shall ever strike Till one can do no more. ALL The gods assist you! AUFIDIUS And keep your Honors safe! FIRST SENATOR Farewell. SECOND SENATOR Farewell. ALL Farewell. [All exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Volumnia and Virgilia, mother and wife to Martius. They set them down on two low stools and sew.] VOLUMNIA I pray you, daughter, sing, or express yourself in a more comfortable sort. If my son were my husband, I should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he won honor than in the embracements of his bed where he would show most love. When yet he was but tender-bodied and the only son of my womb, when youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way, when for a day of kings' entreaties a mother should not sell him an hour from her beholding, I, considering how honor would become such a person--that it was no better than picture-like to hang by th' wall, if renown made it not stir--was pleased to let him seek danger where he was like to find fame. To a cruel war I sent him, from whence he returned, his brows bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter, I sprang not more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child than now in first seeing he had proved himself a man. VIRGILIA But had he died in the business, madam, how then? VOLUMNIA Then his good report should have been my son; I therein would have found issue. Hear me profess sincerely: had I a dozen sons, each in my love alike and none less dear than thine and my good Martius, I had rather had eleven die nobly for their country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action. [Enter a Gentlewoman.] GENTLEWOMAN Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to visit you. VIRGILIA Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself. VOLUMNIA Indeed you shall not. Methinks I hear hither your husband's drum, See him pluck Aufidius down by th' hair; As children from a bear, the Volsces shunning him. Methinks I see him stamp thus and call thus: "Come on, you cowards! You were got in fear, Though you were born in Rome." His bloody brow With his mailed hand then wiping, forth he goes Like to a harvestman that's tasked to mow Or all or lose his hire. VIRGILIA His bloody brow? O Jupiter, no blood! VOLUMNIA Away, you fool! It more becomes a man Than gilt his trophy. The breasts of Hecuba, When she did suckle Hector, looked not lovelier Than Hector's forehead when it spit forth blood At Grecian sword, contemning.--Tell Valeria We are fit to bid her welcome. [Gentlewoman exits.] VIRGILIA Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius! VOLUMNIA He'll beat Aufidius' head below his knee And tread upon his neck. [Enter Valeria with an Usher and a Gentlewoman.] VALERIA My ladies both, good day to you. VOLUMNIA Sweet madam. VIRGILIA I am glad to see your Ladyship. VALERIA How do you both? You are manifest housekeepers. What are you sewing here? A fine spot, in good faith. How does your little son? VIRGILIA I thank your Ladyship; well, good madam. VOLUMNIA He had rather see the swords and hear a drum than look upon his schoolmaster. VALERIA O' my word, the father's son! I'll swear 'tis a very pretty boy. O' my troth, I looked upon him o' Wednesday half an hour together. H'as such a confirmed countenance. I saw him run after a gilded butterfly, and when he caught it, he let it go again, and after it again, and over and over he comes, and up again, catched it again. Or whether his fall enraged him or how 'twas, he did so set his teeth and tear it. O, I warrant how he mammocked it! VOLUMNIA One on 's father's moods. VALERIA Indeed, la, 'tis a noble child. VIRGILIA A crack, madam. VALERIA Come, lay aside your stitchery. I must have you play the idle huswife with me this afternoon. VIRGILIA No, good madam, I will not out of doors. VALERIA Not out of doors? VOLUMNIA She shall, she shall. VIRGILIA Indeed, no, by your patience. I'll not over the threshold till my lord return from the wars. VALERIA Fie, you confine yourself most unreasonably. Come, you must go visit the good lady that lies in. VIRGILIA I will wish her speedy strength and visit her with my prayers, but I cannot go thither. VOLUMNIA Why, I pray you? VIRGILIA 'Tis not to save labor, nor that I want love. VALERIA You would be another Penelope. Yet they say all the yarn she spun in Ulysses' absence did but fill Ithaca full of moths. Come, I would your cambric were sensible as your finger, that you might leave pricking it for pity. Come, you shall go with us. VIRGILIA No, good madam, pardon me; indeed, I will not forth. VALERIA In truth, la, go with me, and I'll tell you excellent news of your husband. VIRGILIA O, good madam, there can be none yet. VALERIA Verily, I do not jest with you. There came news from him last night. VIRGILIA Indeed, madam! VALERIA In earnest, it's true. I heard a senator speak it. Thus it is: the Volsces have an army forth, against whom Cominius the General is gone with one part of our Roman power. Your lord and Titus Lartius are set down before their city Corioles. They nothing doubt prevailing, and to make it brief wars. This is true, on mine honor, and so, I pray, go with us. VIRGILIA Give me excuse, good madam. I will obey you in everything hereafter. VOLUMNIA Let her alone, lady. As she is now, she will but disease our better mirth. VALERIA In troth, I think she would.--Fare you well, then.--Come, good sweet lady.--Prithee, Virgilia, turn thy solemness out o' door, and go along with us. VIRGILIA No, at a word, madam. Indeed, I must not. I wish you much mirth. VALERIA Well, then, farewell. [Ladies exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Martius, Titus Lartius, with Trumpet, Drum, and Colors, with Captains and Soldiers, as before the city of Corioles. To them a Messenger.] MARTIUS Yonder comes news. A wager they have met. LARTIUS My horse to yours, no. MARTIUS 'Tis done. LARTIUS Agreed. MARTIUS, [to Messenger] Say, has our general met the enemy? MESSENGER They lie in view but have not spoke as yet. LARTIUS So the good horse is mine. MARTIUS I'll buy him of you. LARTIUS No, I'll nor sell nor give him. Lend you him I will For half a hundred years.--Summon the town. MARTIUS How far off lie these armies? MESSENGER Within this mile and half. MARTIUS Then shall we hear their 'larum and they ours. Now, Mars, I prithee, make us quick in work, That we with smoking swords may march from hence To help our fielded friends!--Come, blow thy blast. [They sound a parley.] [Enter two Senators with others on the walls of Corioles.] Tullus Aufidius, is he within your walls? FIRST SENATOR No, nor a man that fears you less than he: That's lesser than a little. [Drum afar off.] Hark, our drums Are bringing forth our youth. We'll break our walls Rather than they shall pound us up. Our gates, Which yet seem shut, we have but pinned with rushes. They'll open of themselves. [Alarum far off.] Hark you, far off! There is Aufidius. List what work he makes Amongst your cloven army. [They exit from the walls.] MARTIUS O, they are at it! LARTIUS Their noise be our instruction.--Ladders, ho! [Enter the Army of the Volsces as through the city gates.] MARTIUS They fear us not but issue forth their city.-- Now put your shields before your hearts, and fight With hearts more proof than shields.--Advance, brave Titus. They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts, Which makes me sweat with wrath.--Come on, my fellows! He that retires, I'll take him for a Volsce, And he shall feel mine edge. [Alarum. The Romans are beat back to their trenches.] [They exit, with the Volsces following.] [Enter Martius cursing, with Roman soldiers.] MARTIUS All the contagion of the south light on you, You shames of Rome! You herd of--Boils and plagues Plaster you o'er, that you may be abhorred Farther than seen, and one infect another Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese, That bear the shapes of men, how have you run From slaves that apes would beat! Pluto and hell! All hurt behind. Backs red, and faces pale With flight and agued fear! Mend, and charge home, Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe And make my wars on you. Look to 't. Come on! If you'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their wives, As they us to our trenches. Follow 's! [Another alarum. The Volsces re-enter and are driven back to the gates of Corioles, which open to admit them.] So, now the gates are ope. Now prove good seconds! 'Tis for the followers fortune widens them, Not for the fliers. Mark me, and do the like. [Martius follows the fleeing Volsces through the gates, and is shut in.] FIRST SOLDIER Foolhardiness, not I. SECOND SOLDIER Nor I. FIRST SOLDIER See they have shut him in. [Alarum continues.] ALL To th' pot, I warrant him. [Enter Titus Lartius.] LARTIUS What is become of Martius? ALL Slain, sir, doubtless. FIRST SOLDIER Following the fliers at the very heels, With them he enters, who upon the sudden Clapped to their gates. He is himself alone, To answer all the city. LARTIUS O, noble fellow, Who sensibly outdares his senseless sword, And when it bows, stand'st up! Thou art left, Martius. A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art, Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier Even to Cato's wish, not fierce and terrible Only in strokes, but with thy grim looks and The thunderlike percussion of thy sounds Thou mad'st thine enemies shake, as if the world Were feverous and did tremble. [Enter Martius, bleeding, as if from Corioles, assaulted by the enemy.] FIRST SOLDIER Look, sir. LARTIUS O, 'tis Martius! Let's fetch him off or make remain alike. [They fight, and all enter the city, exiting the stage.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter certain Romans, with spoils.] FIRST ROMAN This will I carry to Rome. SECOND ROMAN And I this. THIRD ROMAN A murrain on 't! I took this for silver. [Enter Martius, and Titus Lartius with a Trumpet.] MARTIUS See here these movers that do prize their hours At a cracked drachma. Cushions, leaden spoons, Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would Bury with those that wore them, these base slaves, Ere yet the fight be done, pack up. Down with them! [The Romans with spoils exit.] [Alarum continues still afar off.] And hark, what noise the General makes! To him! There is the man of my soul's hate, Aufidius, Piercing our Romans. Then, valiant Titus, take Convenient numbers to make good the city, Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste To help Cominius. LARTIUS Worthy sir, thou bleed'st. Thy exercise hath been too violent For a second course of fight. MARTIUS Sir, praise me not. My work hath yet not warmed me. Fare you well. The blood I drop is rather physical Than dangerous to me. To Aufidius thus I will appear and fight. LARTIUS Now the fair goddess Fortune Fall deep in love with thee, and her great charms Misguide thy opposers' swords! Bold gentleman, Prosperity be thy page! MARTIUS Thy friend no less Than those she placeth highest! So farewell. LARTIUS Thou worthiest Martius! [Martius exits.] Go sound thy trumpet in the marketplace. Call thither all the officers o' th' town, Where they shall know our mind. Away! [They exit.] Scene 6 ======= [Enter Cominius as it were in retire, with Soldiers.] COMINIUS Breathe you, my friends. Well fought! We are come off Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands Nor cowardly in retire. Believe me, sirs, We shall be charged again. Whiles we have struck, By interims and conveying gusts we have heard The charges of our friends. The Roman gods Lead their successes as we wish our own, That both our powers, with smiling fronts encount'ring, May give you thankful sacrifice! [Enter a Messenger.] Thy news? MESSENGER The citizens of Corioles have issued And given to Lartius and to Martius battle. I saw our party to their trenches driven, And then I came away. COMINIUS Though thou speakest truth, Methinks thou speak'st not well. How long is 't since? MESSENGER Above an hour, my lord. COMINIUS 'Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their drums. How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour And bring thy news so late? MESSENGER Spies of the Volsces Held me in chase, that I was forced to wheel Three or four miles about; else had I, sir, Half an hour since brought my report. [He exits.] [Enter Martius, bloody.] COMINIUS Who's yonder, That does appear as he were flayed? O gods, He has the stamp of Martius, and I have Before-time seen him thus. MARTIUS Come I too late? COMINIUS The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabor More than I know the sound of Martius' tongue From every meaner man. MARTIUS Come I too late? COMINIUS Ay, if you come not in the blood of others, But mantled in your own. MARTIUS O, let me clip you In arms as sound as when I wooed, in heart As merry as when our nuptial day was done And tapers burnt to bedward! [They embrace.] COMINIUS Flower of warriors, how is 't with Titus Lartius? MARTIUS As with a man busied about decrees, Condemning some to death and some to exile; Ransoming him or pitying, threat'ning th' other; Holding Corioles in the name of Rome Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash, To let him slip at will. COMINIUS Where is that slave Which told me they had beat you to your trenches? Where is he? Call him hither. MARTIUS Let him alone. He did inform the truth. But for our gentlemen, The common file--a plague! Tribunes for them!-- The mouse ne'er shunned the cat as they did budge From rascals worse than they. COMINIUS But how prevailed you? MARTIUS Will the time serve to tell? I do not think. Where is the enemy? Are you lords o' th' field? If not, why cease you till you are so? COMINIUS Martius, we have at disadvantage fought And did retire to win our purpose. MARTIUS How lies their battle? Know you on which side They have placed their men of trust? COMINIUS As I guess, Martius, Their bands i' th' vaward are the Antiates, Of their best trust; o'er them Aufidius, Their very heart of hope. MARTIUS I do beseech you, By all the battles wherein we have fought, By th' blood we have shed together, by th' vows we have made To endure friends, that you directly set me Against Aufidius and his Antiates, And that you not delay the present, but, Filling the air with swords advanced and darts, We prove this very hour. COMINIUS Though I could wish You were conducted to a gentle bath And balms applied to you, yet dare I never Deny your asking. Take your choice of those That best can aid your action. MARTIUS Those are they That most are willing. If any such be here-- As it were sin to doubt--that love this painting Wherein you see me smeared; if any fear Lesser his person than an ill report; If any think brave death outweighs bad life, And that his country's dearer than himself; Let him alone, or so many so minded, Wave thus to express his disposition And follow Martius. [He waves his sword.] [They all shout and wave their swords, take him up in their arms, and cast up their caps.] O, me alone! Make you a sword of me? If these shows be not outward, which of you But is four Volsces? None of you but is Able to bear against the great Aufidius A shield as hard as his. A certain number, Though thanks to all, must I select from all. The rest shall bear the business in some other fight, As cause will be obeyed. Please you to march, And I shall quickly draw out my command, Which men are best inclined. COMINIUS March on, my fellows. Make good this ostentation, and you shall Divide in all with us. [They exit.] Scene 7 ======= [Titus Lartius, having set a guard upon Corioles, going with Drum and Trumpet toward Cominius and Caius Martius, enters with a Lieutenant, other Soldiers, and a Scout.] LARTIUS So, let the ports be guarded. Keep your duties As I have set them down. If I do send, dispatch Those centuries to our aid; the rest will serve For a short holding. If we lose the field, We cannot keep the town. LIEUTENANT Fear not our care, sir. LARTIUS Hence, and shut your gates upon 's. [(To the Scout.)] Our guider, come. To th' Roman camp conduct us. [They exit, the Lieutenant one way, Lartius another.] Scene 8 ======= [Alarum, as in battle. Enter Martius and Aufidius at several doors.] MARTIUS I'll fight with none but thee, for I do hate thee Worse than a promise-breaker. AUFIDIUS We hate alike. Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor More than thy fame and envy. Fix thy foot. MARTIUS Let the first budger die the other's slave, And the gods doom him after! AUFIDIUS If I fly, Martius, Hollo me like a hare. MARTIUS Within these three hours, Tullus, Alone I fought in your Corioles' walls And made what work I pleased. 'Tis not my blood Wherein thou seest me masked. For thy revenge, Wrench up thy power to th' highest. AUFIDIUS Wert thou the Hector That was the whip of your bragged progeny, Thou shouldst not scape me here. [Here they fight, and certain Volsces come in the aid of Aufidius.] [(To the Volsces.)] Officious and not valiant, you have shamed me In your condemned seconds. [Martius fights till they be driven in breathless. Aufidius and Martius exit, separately.] Scene 9 ======= [Alarum. A retreat is sounded. Flourish. Enter, at one door, Cominius with the Romans; at another door Martius, with his arm in a scarf.] COMINIUS, [to Martius] If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work, Thou 't not believe thy deeds. But I'll report it Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles; Where great patricians shall attend and shrug, I' th' end admire; where ladies shall be frighted And, gladly quaked, hear more; where the dull tribunes, That with the fusty plebeians hate thine honors, Shall say against their hearts "We thank the gods Our Rome hath such a soldier." Yet cam'st thou to a morsel of this feast, Having fully dined before. [Enter Titus Lartius with his power, from the pursuit.] LARTIUS O general, Here is the steed, we the caparison. Hadst thou beheld-- MARTIUS Pray now, no more. My mother, Who has a charter to extol her blood, When she does praise me grieves me. I have done As you have done--that's what I can; Induced as you have been--that's for my country. He that has but effected his good will Hath overta'en mine act. COMINIUS You shall not be The grave of your deserving. Rome must know The value of her own. 'Twere a concealment Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement, To hide your doings and to silence that Which, to the spire and top of praises vouched, Would seem but modest. Therefore, I beseech you-- In sign of what you are, not to reward What you have done--before our army hear me. MARTIUS I have some wounds upon me, and they smart To hear themselves remembered. COMINIUS Should they not, Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude And tent themselves with death. Of all the horses-- Whereof we have ta'en good and good store--of all The treasure in this field achieved and city, We render you the tenth, to be ta'en forth Before the common distribution At your only choice. MARTIUS I thank you, general, But cannot make my heart consent to take A bribe to pay my sword. I do refuse it And stand upon my common part with those That have beheld the doing. [A long flourish. They all cry "Martius, Martius!" and cast up their caps and lances. Cominius and Lartius stand bare.] May these same instruments, which you profane, Never sound more! When drums and trumpets shall I' th' field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be Made all of false-faced soothing! When steel grows Soft as the parasite's silk, let him be made An ovator for th' wars! No more, I say. For that I have not washed my nose that bled, Or foiled some debile wretch--which, without note, Here's many else have done--you shout me forth In acclamations hyperbolical, As if I loved my little should be dieted In praises sauced with lies. COMINIUS Too modest are you, More cruel to your good report than grateful To us that give you truly. By your patience, If 'gainst yourself you be incensed, we'll put you, Like one that means his proper harm, in manacles, Then reason safely with you. Therefore be it known, As to us to all the world, that Caius Martius Wears this war's garland, in token of the which My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him, With all his trim belonging. And from this time, For what he did before Corioles, call him, With all th' applause and clamor of the host, Martius Caius Coriolanus! Bear Th' addition nobly ever! [Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums.] ALL Martius Caius Coriolanus! CORIOLANUS I will go wash; And when my face is fair, you shall perceive Whether I blush or no. Howbeit, I thank you. I mean to stride your steed and at all times To undercrest your good addition To th' fairness of my power. COMINIUS So, to our tent, Where, ere we do repose us, we will write To Rome of our success.--You, Titus Lartius, Must to Corioles back. Send us to Rome The best, with whom we may articulate For their own good and ours. LARTIUS I shall, my lord. CORIOLANUS The gods begin to mock me. I, that now Refused most princely gifts, am bound to beg Of my lord general. COMINIUS Take 't, 'tis yours. What is 't? CORIOLANUS I sometime lay here in Corioles At a poor man's house; he used me kindly. He cried to me; I saw him prisoner; But then Aufidius was within my view, And wrath o'erwhelmed my pity. I request you To give my poor host freedom. COMINIUS O, well begged! Were he the butcher of my son, he should Be free as is the wind.--Deliver him, Titus. LARTIUS Martius, his name? CORIOLANUS By Jupiter, forgot! I am weary; yea, my memory is tired. Have we no wine here? COMINIUS Go we to our tent. The blood upon your visage dries; 'tis time It should be looked to. Come. [A flourish of cornets. They exit.] Scene 10 ======== [Enter Tullus Aufidius bloody, with two or three Soldiers.] AUFIDIUS The town is ta'en. SOLDIER 'Twill be delivered back on good condition. AUFIDIUS Condition? I would I were a Roman, for I cannot, Being a Volsce, be that I am. Condition? What good condition can a treaty find I' th' part that is at mercy? Five times, Martius, I have fought with thee; so often hast thou beat me And wouldst do so, I think, should we encounter As often as we eat. By th' elements, If e'er again I meet him beard to beard, He's mine, or I am his. Mine emulation Hath not that honor in 't it had; for where I thought to crush him in an equal force, True sword to sword, I'll potch at him some way Or wrath or craft may get him. SOLDIER He's the devil. AUFIDIUS Bolder, though not so subtle. My valor's poisoned With only suff'ring stain by him; for him Shall fly out of itself. Nor sleep nor sanctuary, Being naked, sick, nor fane nor Capitol, The prayers of priests nor times of sacrifice, Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst My hate to Martius. Where I find him, were it At home, upon my brother's guard, even there, Against the hospitable canon, would I Wash my fierce hand in 's heart. Go you to th' city; Learn how 'tis held and what they are that must Be hostages for Rome. SOLDIER Will not you go? AUFIDIUS I am attended at the cypress grove. I pray you-- 'Tis south the city mills--bring me word thither How the world goes, that to the pace of it I may spur on my journey. SOLDIER I shall, sir. [They exit, Aufidius through one door, Soldiers through another.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Menenius with the two Tribunes of the people, Sicinius and Brutus.] MENENIUS The augurer tells me we shall have news tonight. BRUTUS Good or bad? MENENIUS Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Martius. SICINIUS Nature teaches beasts to know their friends. MENENIUS Pray you, who does the wolf love? SICINIUS The lamb. MENENIUS Ay, to devour him, as the hungry plebeians would the noble Martius. BRUTUS He's a lamb indeed, that baas like a bear. MENENIUS He's a bear indeed, that lives like a lamb. You two are old men; tell me one thing that I shall ask you. BOTH Well, sir. MENENIUS In what enormity is Martius poor in, that you two have not in abundance? BRUTUS He's poor in no one fault, but stored with all. SICINIUS Especially in pride. BRUTUS And topping all others in boasting. MENENIUS This is strange now. Do you two know how you are censured here in the city, I mean of us o' th' right-hand file, do you? BOTH Why, how are we censured? MENENIUS Because you talk of pride now, will you not be angry? BOTH Well, well, sir, well? MENENIUS Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience. Give your dispositions the reins, and be angry at your pleasures, at the least, if you take it as a pleasure to you in being so. You blame Martius for being proud. BRUTUS We do it not alone, sir. MENENIUS I know you can do very little alone, for your helps are many, or else your actions would grow wondrous single. Your abilities are too infantlike for doing much alone. You talk of pride. O, that you could turn your eyes toward the napes of your necks and make but an interior survey of your good selves! O, that you could! BOTH What then, sir? MENENIUS Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, proud, violent, testy magistrates, alias fools, as any in Rome. SICINIUS Menenius, you are known well enough, too. MENENIUS I am known to be a humorous patrician and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tiber in 't; said to be something imperfect in favoring the first complaint, hasty and tinder-like upon too trivial motion; one that converses more with the buttock of the night than with the forehead of the morning. What I think I utter, and spend my malice in my breath. Meeting two such wealsmen as you are--I cannot call you Lycurguses--if the drink you give me touch my palate adversely, I make a crooked face at it. I cannot say your Worships have delivered the matter well when I find the ass in compound with the major part of your syllables. And though I must be content to bear with those that say you are reverend grave men, yet they lie deadly that tell you have good faces. If you see this in the map of my microcosm, follows it that I am known well enough too? What harm can your bisson conspectuities glean out of this character, if I be known well enough, too? BRUTUS Come, sir, come; we know you well enough. MENENIUS You know neither me, yourselves, nor anything. You are ambitious for poor knaves' caps and legs. You wear out a good wholesome forenoon in hearing a cause between an orange-wife and a faucet-seller, and then rejourn the controversy of threepence to a second day of audience. When you are hearing a matter between party and party, if you chance to be pinched with the colic, you make faces like mummers, set up the bloody flag against all patience, and, in roaring for a chamber pot, dismiss the controversy bleeding, the more entangled by your hearing. All the peace you make in their cause is calling both the parties knaves. You are a pair of strange ones. BRUTUS Come, come. You are well understood to be a perfecter giber for the table than a necessary bencher in the Capitol. MENENIUS Our very priests must become mockers if they shall encounter such ridiculous subjects as you are. When you speak best unto the purpose, it is not worth the wagging of your beards, and your beards deserve not so honorable a grave as to stuff a botcher's cushion or to be entombed in an ass's packsaddle. Yet you must be saying Martius is proud, who, in a cheap estimation, is worth all your predecessors since Deucalion, though peradventure some of the best of 'em were hereditary hangmen. Good e'en to your Worships. More of your conversation would infect my brain, being the herdsmen of the beastly plebeians. I will be bold to take my leave of you. [He begins to exit. Brutus and Sicinius stand aside.] [Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Valeria.] How now, my as fair as noble ladies--and the moon, were she earthly, no nobler--whither do you follow your eyes so fast? VOLUMNIA Honorable Menenius, my boy Martius approaches. For the love of Juno, let's go! MENENIUS Ha? Martius coming home? VOLUMNIA Ay, worthy Menenius, and with most prosperous approbation. MENENIUS Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee! [(He throws his cap in the air.)] Hoo! Martius coming home? VALERIA, VIRGILIA Nay, 'tis true. VOLUMNIA Look, here's a letter from him. [She produces a paper.] The state hath another, his wife another, and I think there's one at home for you. MENENIUS I will make my very house reel tonight. A letter for me? VIRGILIA Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I saw 't. MENENIUS A letter for me? It gives me an estate of seven years' health, in which time I will make a lip at the physician. The most sovereign prescription in Galen is but empiricutic and, to this preservative, of no better report than a horse drench. Is he not wounded? He was wont to come home wounded. VIRGILIA O no, no, no! VOLUMNIA O, he is wounded, I thank the gods for 't. MENENIUS So do I too, if it be not too much. Brings he victory in his pocket, the wounds become him. VOLUMNIA On 's brows, Menenius. He comes the third time home with the oaken garland. MENENIUS Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly? VOLUMNIA Titus Lartius writes they fought together, but Aufidius got off. MENENIUS And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that. An he had stayed by him, I would not have been so 'fidiused for all the chests in Corioles and the gold that's in them. Is the Senate possessed of this? VOLUMNIA Good ladies, let's go.--Yes, yes, yes. The Senate has letters from the General, wherein he gives my son the whole name of the war. He hath in this action outdone his former deeds doubly. VALERIA In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him. MENENIUS Wondrous? Ay, I warrant you, and not without his true purchasing. VIRGILIA The gods grant them true. VOLUMNIA True? Pow waw! MENENIUS True? I'll be sworn they are true. Where is he wounded? [(To the Tribunes.)] God save your good Worships! Martius is coming home; he has more cause to be proud.--Where is he wounded? VOLUMNIA I' th' shoulder and i' th' left arm. There will be large cicatrices to show the people when he shall stand for his place. He received in the repulse of Tarquin seven hurts i' th' body. MENENIUS One i' th' neck and two i' th' thigh--there's nine that I know. VOLUMNIA He had, before this last expedition, twenty-five wounds upon him. MENENIUS Now it's twenty-seven. Every gash was an enemy's grave. [(A shout and flourish.)] Hark, the trumpets! VOLUMNIA These are the ushers of Martius: before him he carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears. Death, that dark spirit, in 's nervy arm doth lie, Which, being advanced, declines, and then men die. [A sennet.] [Enter Cominius the General and Titus Lartius, between them Coriolanus crowned with an oaken garland, with Captains and Soldiers and a Herald. Trumpets sound.] HERALD Know, Rome, that all alone Martius did fight Within Corioles' gates, where he hath won, With fame, a name to Martius Caius; these In honor follows "Coriolanus." Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus. [Sound flourish.] ALL Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! CORIOLANUS No more of this. It does offend my heart. Pray now, no more. COMINIUS Look, sir, your mother. CORIOLANUS O, You have, I know, petitioned all the gods For my prosperity. [Kneels.] VOLUMNIA Nay, my good soldier, up. [He stands.] My gentle Martius, worthy Caius, and By deed-achieving honor newly named-- What is it? Coriolanus must I call thee? But, O, thy wife-- CORIOLANUS My gracious silence, hail. Wouldst thou have laughed had I come coffined home, That weep'st to see me triumph? Ah, my dear, Such eyes the widows in Corioles wear And mothers that lack sons. MENENIUS Now the gods crown thee! CORIOLANUS And live you yet? [(To Valeria.)] O, my sweet lady, pardon. VOLUMNIA I know not where to turn. O, welcome home!-- And, welcome, general.--And you're welcome all. MENENIUS A hundred thousand welcomes! I could weep, And I could laugh; I am light and heavy. Welcome. A curse begin at very root on 's heart That is not glad to see thee! You are three That Rome should dote on; yet, by the faith of men, We have some old crab trees here at home that will not Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, warriors! We call a nettle but a nettle, and The faults of fools but folly. COMINIUS Ever right. CORIOLANUS Menenius ever, ever. HERALD Give way there, and go on! CORIOLANUS, [to Volumnia and Virgilia] Your hand and yours. Ere in our own house I do shade my head, The good patricians must be visited, From whom I have received not only greetings, But with them change of honors. VOLUMNIA I have lived To see inherited my very wishes And the buildings of my fancy. Only There's one thing wanting, which I doubt not but Our Rome will cast upon thee. CORIOLANUS Know, good mother, I had rather be their servant in my way Than sway with them in theirs. COMINIUS On, to the Capitol. [Flourish of cornets. They exit in state, as before.] [Brutus and Sicinius come forward.] BRUTUS All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights Are spectacled to see him. Your prattling nurse Into a rapture lets her baby cry While she chats him. The kitchen malkin pins Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck, Clamb'ring the walls to eye him. Stalls, bulks, windows Are smothered up, leads filled, and ridges horsed With variable complexions, all agreeing In earnestness to see him. Seld-shown flamens Do press among the popular throngs and puff To win a vulgar station. Our veiled dames Commit the war of white and damask in Their nicely-gauded cheeks to th' wanton spoil Of Phoebus' burning kisses. Such a pother, As if that whatsoever god who leads him Were slyly crept into his human powers And gave him graceful posture. SICINIUS On the sudden I warrant him consul. BRUTUS Then our office may, During his power, go sleep. SICINIUS He cannot temp'rately transport his honors From where he should begin and end, but will Lose those he hath won. BRUTUS In that there's comfort. SICINIUS Doubt not The commoners, for whom we stand, but they Upon their ancient malice will forget With the least cause these his new honors--which That he will give them make I as little question As he is proud to do 't. BRUTUS I heard him swear, Were he to stand for consul, never would he Appear i' th' marketplace nor on him put The napless vesture of humility, Nor showing, as the manner is, his wounds To th' people, beg their stinking breaths. SICINIUS 'Tis right. BRUTUS It was his word. O, he would miss it rather Than carry it but by the suit of the gentry to him And the desire of the nobles. SICINIUS I wish no better Than have him hold that purpose and to put it In execution. BRUTUS 'Tis most like he will. SICINIUS It shall be to him then as our good wills, A sure destruction. BRUTUS So it must fall out To him, or our authority's for an end. We must suggest the people in what hatred He still hath held them; that to 's power he would Have made them mules, silenced their pleaders, and Dispropertied their freedoms; holding them In human action and capacity Of no more soul nor fitness for the world Than camels in their war, who have their provand Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows For sinking under them. SICINIUS This, as you say, suggested At some time when his soaring insolence Shall touch the people--which time shall not want If he be put upon 't, and that's as easy As to set dogs on sheep--will be his fire To kindle their dry stubble, and their blaze Shall darken him forever. [Enter a Messenger.] BRUTUS What's the matter? MESSENGER You are sent for to the Capitol. 'Tis thought That Martius shall be consul. I have seen The dumb men throng to see him, and the blind To hear him speak; matrons flung gloves, Ladies and maids their scarves and handkerchiefs, Upon him as he passed; the nobles bended As to Jove's statue, and the Commons made A shower and thunder with their caps and shouts. I never saw the like. BRUTUS Let's to the Capitol, And carry with us ears and eyes for th' time, But hearts for the event. SICINIUS Have with you. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter two Officers, to lay cushions, as it were in the Capitol.] FIRST OFFICER Come, come. They are almost here. How many stand for consulships? SECOND OFFICER Three, they say; but 'tis thought of everyone Coriolanus will carry it. FIRST OFFICER That's a brave fellow, but he's vengeance proud and loves not the common people. SECOND OFFICER 'Faith, there hath been many great men that have flattered the people who ne'er loved them; and there be many that they have loved they know not wherefore; so that, if they love they know not why, they hate upon no better a ground. Therefore, for Coriolanus neither to care whether they love or hate him manifests the true knowledge he has in their disposition and, out of his noble carelessness, lets them plainly see 't. FIRST OFFICER If he did not care whether he had their love or no, he waved indifferently 'twixt doing them neither good nor harm; but he seeks their hate with greater devotion than they can render it him and leaves nothing undone that may fully discover him their opposite. Now, to seem to affect the malice and displeasure of the people is as bad as that which he dislikes, to flatter them for their love. SECOND OFFICER He hath deserved worthily of his country, and his ascent is not by such easy degrees as those who, having been supple and courteous to the people, bonneted, without any further deed to have them at all into their estimation and report; but he hath so planted his honors in their eyes and his actions in their hearts that for their tongues to be silent and not confess so much were a kind of ingrateful injury. To report otherwise were a malice that, giving itself the lie, would pluck reproof and rebuke from every ear that heard it. FIRST OFFICER No more of him; he's a worthy man. Make way. They are coming. [A sennet. Enter the Patricians and the Tribunes of the people, Lictors before them; Coriolanus, Menenius, Cominius the consul. The Patricians sit. Sicinius and Brutus take their places by themselves. Coriolanus stands.] MENENIUS Having determined of the Volsces and To send for Titus Lartius, it remains, As the main point of this our after-meeting, To gratify his noble service that Hath thus stood for his country. Therefore please you, Most reverend and grave elders, to desire The present consul and last general In our well-found successes to report A little of that worthy work performed By Martius Caius Coriolanus, whom We met here both to thank and to remember With honors like himself. [Coriolanus sits.] FIRST SENATOR Speak, good Cominius. Leave nothing out for length, and make us think Rather our state's defective for requital, Than we to stretch it out. [(To the Tribunes.)] Masters o' th' people, We do request your kindest ears and, after, Your loving motion toward the common body To yield what passes here. SICINIUS We are convented Upon a pleasing treaty and have hearts Inclinable to honor and advance The theme of our assembly. BRUTUS Which the rather We shall be blest to do if he remember A kinder value of the people than He hath hereto prized them at. MENENIUS That's off, that's off! I would you rather had been silent. Please you To hear Cominius speak? BRUTUS Most willingly, But yet my caution was more pertinent Than the rebuke you give it. MENENIUS He loves your people, But tie him not to be their bedfellow.-- Worthy Cominius, speak. [Coriolanus rises and offers to go away.] Nay, keep your place. FIRST SENATOR Sit, Coriolanus. Never shame to hear What you have nobly done. CORIOLANUS Your Honors, pardon. I had rather have my wounds to heal again Than hear say how I got them. BRUTUS Sir, I hope My words disbenched you not? CORIOLANUS No, sir. Yet oft, When blows have made me stay, I fled from words. You soothed not, therefore hurt not; but your people, I love them as they weigh. MENENIUS Pray now, sit down. CORIOLANUS I had rather have one scratch my head i' th' sun When the alarum were struck than idly sit To hear my nothings monstered. [Coriolanus exits.] MENENIUS Masters of the people, Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter-- That's thousand to one good one--when you now see He had rather venture all his limbs for honor Than one on 's ears to hear it.--Proceed, Cominius. COMINIUS I shall lack voice. The deeds of Coriolanus Should not be uttered feebly. It is held That valor is the chiefest virtue and Most dignifies the haver; if it be, The man I speak of cannot in the world Be singly counterpoised. At sixteen years, When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought Beyond the mark of others. Our then dictator, Whom with all praise I point at, saw him fight When with his Amazonian chin he drove The bristled lips before him. He bestrid An o'erpressed Roman and i' th' Consul's view Slew three opposers. Tarquin's self he met And struck him on his knee. In that day's feats, When he might act the woman in the scene, He proved best man i' th' field and for his meed Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil age Man-entered thus, he waxed like a sea, And in the brunt of seventeen battles since He lurched all swords of the garland. For this last, Before and in Corioles, let me say, I cannot speak him home. He stopped the flyers And by his rare example made the coward Turn terror into sport. As weeds before A vessel under sail, so men obeyed And fell below his stem. His sword, Death's stamp, Where it did mark, it took; from face to foot He was a thing of blood, whose every motion Was timed with dying cries. Alone he entered The mortal gate o' th' city, which he painted With shunless destiny; aidless came off And with a sudden reinforcement struck Corioles like a planet. Now all's his, When by and by the din of war gan pierce His ready sense; then straight his doubled spirit Requickened what in flesh was fatigate, And to the battle came he, where he did Run reeking o'er the lives of men as if 'Twere a perpetual spoil; and till we called Both field and city ours, he never stood To ease his breast with panting. MENENIUS Worthy man! FIRST SENATOR He cannot but with measure fit the honors Which we devise him. COMINIUS Our spoils he kicked at And looked upon things precious as they were The common muck of the world. He covets less Than misery itself would give, rewards His deeds with doing them, and is content To spend the time to end it. MENENIUS He's right noble. Let him be called for. FIRST SENATOR Call Coriolanus. OFFICER He doth appear. [Enter Coriolanus.] MENENIUS The Senate, Coriolanus, are well pleased To make thee consul. CORIOLANUS I do owe them still My life and services. MENENIUS It then remains That you do speak to the people. CORIOLANUS I do beseech you, Let me o'erleap that custom, for I cannot Put on the gown, stand naked, and entreat them For my wounds' sake to give their suffrage. Please you That I may pass this doing. SICINIUS Sir, the people Must have their voices; neither will they bate One jot of ceremony. MENENIUS, [to Coriolanus] Put them not to 't. Pray you, go fit you to the custom, and Take to you, as your predecessors have, Your honor with your form. CORIOLANUS It is a part That I shall blush in acting, and might well Be taken from the people. BRUTUS, [to Sicinius] Mark you that? CORIOLANUS To brag unto them "Thus I did, and thus!" Show them th' unaching scars, which I should hide, As if I had received them for the hire Of their breath only! MENENIUS Do not stand upon 't.-- We recommend to you, tribunes of the people, Our purpose to them, and to our noble consul Wish we all joy and honor. SENATORS To Coriolanus come all joy and honor! [Flourish cornets. Then they exit. Sicinius and Brutus remain.] BRUTUS You see how he intends to use the people. SICINIUS May they perceive 's intent! He will require them As if he did contemn what he requested Should be in them to give. BRUTUS Come, we'll inform them Of our proceedings here. On th' marketplace I know they do attend us. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter seven or eight Citizens.] FIRST CITIZEN Once, if he do require our voices, we ought not to deny him. SECOND CITIZEN We may, sir, if we will. THIRD CITIZEN We have power in ourselves to do it, but it is a power that we have no power to do; for, if he show us his wounds and tell us his deeds, we are to put our tongues into those wounds and speak for them. So, if he tell us his noble deeds, we must also tell him our noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude is monstrous, and for the multitude to be ingrateful were to make a monster of the multitude, of the which, we being members, should bring ourselves to be monstrous members. FIRST CITIZEN And to make us no better thought of, a little help will serve; for once we stood up about the corn, he himself stuck not to call us the many-headed multitude. THIRD CITIZEN We have been called so of many; not that our heads are some brown, some black, some abram, some bald, but that our wits are so diversely colored; and truly I think if all our wits were to issue out of one skull, they would fly east, west, north, south, and their consent of one direct way should be at once to all the points o' th' compass. SECOND CITIZEN Think you so? Which way do you judge my wit would fly? THIRD CITIZEN Nay, your wit will not so soon out as another man's will; 'tis strongly wedged up in a blockhead. But if it were at liberty, 'twould sure southward. SECOND CITIZEN Why that way? THIRD CITIZEN To lose itself in a fog, where, being three parts melted away with rotten dews, the fourth would return for conscience' sake, to help to get thee a wife. SECOND CITIZEN You are never without your tricks. You may, you may. THIRD CITIZEN Are you all resolved to give your voices? But that's no matter; the greater part carries it. I say, if he would incline to the people, there was never a worthier man. [Enter Coriolanus in a gown of humility, with Menenius.] Here he comes, and in the gown of humility. Mark his behavior. We are not to stay all together, but to come by him where he stands, by ones, by twos, and by threes. He's to make his requests by particulars, wherein every one of us has a single honor in giving him our own voices with our own tongues. Therefore follow me, and I'll direct you how you shall go by him. ALL Content, content. [Citizens exit.] MENENIUS O sir, you are not right. Have you not known The worthiest men have done 't? CORIOLANUS What must I say? "I pray, sir?"--plague upon 't! I cannot bring My tongue to such a pace. "Look, sir, my wounds! I got them in my country's service when Some certain of your brethren roared and ran From th' noise of our own drums." MENENIUS O me, the gods! You must not speak of that. You must desire them To think upon you. CORIOLANUS Think upon me? Hang 'em! I would they would forget me, like the virtues Which our divines lose by 'em. MENENIUS You'll mar all. I'll leave you. Pray you, speak to 'em, I pray you, In wholesome manner. [He exits.] CORIOLANUS Bid them wash their faces And keep their teeth clean. [Enter three of the Citizens.] So, here comes a brace.-- You know the cause, sir, of my standing here. THIRD CITIZEN We do, sir. Tell us what hath brought you to 't. CORIOLANUS Mine own desert. SECOND CITIZEN Your own desert? CORIOLANUS Ay, but not mine own desire. THIRD CITIZEN How, not your own desire? CORIOLANUS No, sir, 'twas never my desire yet to trouble the poor with begging. THIRD CITIZEN You must think if we give you anything, we hope to gain by you. CORIOLANUS Well then, I pray, your price o' th' consulship? FIRST CITIZEN The price is to ask it kindly. CORIOLANUS Kindly, sir, I pray, let me ha 't. I have wounds to show you, which shall be yours in private.--Your good voice, sir. What say you? SECOND CITIZEN You shall ha 't, worthy sir. CORIOLANUS A match, sir. There's in all two worthy voices begged. I have your alms. Adieu. THIRD CITIZEN, [to the other Citizens] But this is something odd. SECOND CITIZEN An 'twere to give again--but 'tis no matter. [These citizens exit.] [Enter two other Citizens.] CORIOLANUS Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune of your voices that I may be consul, I have here the customary gown. FOURTH CITIZEN You have deserved nobly of your country, and you have not deserved nobly. CORIOLANUS Your enigma? FOURTH CITIZEN You have been a scourge to her enemies; you have been a rod to her friends. You have not indeed loved the common people. CORIOLANUS You should account me the more virtuous that I have not been common in my love. I will, sir, flatter my sworn brother, the people, to earn a dearer estimation of them; 'tis a condition they account gentle. And since the wisdom of their choice is rather to have my hat than my heart, I will practice the insinuating nod and be off to them most counterfeitly. That is, sir, I will counterfeit the bewitchment of some popular man and give it bountiful to the desirers. Therefore, beseech you, I may be consul. FIFTH CITIZEN We hope to find you our friend, and therefore give you our voices heartily. FOURTH CITIZEN You have received many wounds for your country. CORIOLANUS I will not seal your knowledge with showing them. I will make much of your voices and so trouble you no farther. BOTH The gods give you joy, sir, heartily. [Citizens exit.] CORIOLANUS Most sweet voices! Better it is to die, better to starve, Than crave the hire which first we do deserve. Why in this woolvish toge should I stand here To beg of Hob and Dick that does appear Their needless vouches? Custom calls me to 't. What custom wills, in all things should we do 't? The dust on antique time would lie unswept And mountainous error be too highly heaped For truth to o'erpeer. Rather than fool it so, Let the high office and the honor go To one that would do thus. I am half through; The one part suffered, the other will I do. [Enter three Citizens more.] Here come more voices.-- Your voices! For your voices I have fought; Watched for your voices; for your voices bear Of wounds two dozen odd. Battles thrice six I have seen and heard of; for your voices have Done many things, some less, some more. Your voices! Indeed, I would be consul. SIXTH CITIZEN He has done nobly, and cannot go without any honest man's voice. SEVENTH CITIZEN Therefore let him be consul. The gods give him joy, and make him good friend to the people! ALL Amen, amen. God save thee, noble consul. [Citizens exit.] CORIOLANUS Worthy voices! [Enter Menenius, with Brutus and Sicinius.] MENENIUS You have stood your limitation, and the Tribunes Endue you with the people's voice. Remains That in th' official marks invested, you Anon do meet the Senate. CORIOLANUS Is this done? SICINIUS The custom of request you have discharged. The people do admit you, and are summoned To meet anon upon your approbation. CORIOLANUS Where? At the Senate House? SICINIUS There, Coriolanus. CORIOLANUS May I change these garments? SICINIUS You may, sir. CORIOLANUS That I'll straight do and, knowing myself again, Repair to th' Senate House. MENENIUS I'll keep you company.--Will you along? BRUTUS We stay here for the people. SICINIUS Fare you well. [Coriolanus and Menenius exit.] He has it now; and by his looks, methinks, 'Tis warm at 's heart. BRUTUS With a proud heart he wore His humble weeds. Will you dismiss the people? [Enter the Plebeians.] SICINIUS How now, my masters, have you chose this man? FIRST CITIZEN He has our voices, sir. BRUTUS We pray the gods he may deserve your loves. SECOND CITIZEN Amen, sir. To my poor unworthy notice, He mocked us when he begged our voices. THIRD CITIZEN Certainly, he flouted us downright. FIRST CITIZEN No, 'tis his kind of speech. He did not mock us. SECOND CITIZEN Not one amongst us, save yourself, but says He used us scornfully. He should have showed us His marks of merit, wounds received for 's country. SICINIUS Why, so he did, I am sure. ALL No, no. No man saw 'em. THIRD CITIZEN He said he had wounds, which he could show in private, And with his hat, thus waving it in scorn, "I would be consul," says he. "Aged custom, But by your voices, will not so permit me; Your voices therefore." When we granted that, Here was "I thank you for your voices. Thank you. Your most sweet voices! Now you have left your voices, I have no further with you." Was not this mockery? SICINIUS Why either were you ignorant to see 't Or, seeing it, of such childish friendliness To yield your voices? BRUTUS Could you not have told him As you were lessoned? When he had no power, But was a petty servant to the state, He was your enemy, ever spake against Your liberties and the charters that you bear I' th' body of the weal; and, now arriving A place of potency and sway o' th' state, If he should still malignantly remain Fast foe to th' plebeii, your voices might Be curses to yourselves. You should have said That as his worthy deeds did claim no less Than what he stood for, so his gracious nature Would think upon you for your voices, and Translate his malice towards you into love, Standing your friendly lord. SICINIUS Thus to have said, As you were fore-advised, had touched his spirit And tried his inclination; from him plucked Either his gracious promise, which you might, As cause had called you up, have held him to; Or else it would have galled his surly nature, Which easily endures not article Tying him to aught. So putting him to rage, You should have ta'en th' advantage of his choler And passed him unelected. BRUTUS Did you perceive He did solicit you in free contempt When he did need your loves, and do you think That his contempt shall not be bruising to you When he hath power to crush? Why, had your bodies No heart among you? Or had you tongues to cry Against the rectorship of judgment? SICINIUS Have you ere now denied the asker? And now Again, of him that did not ask but mock, Bestow your sued-for tongues? THIRD CITIZEN He's not confirmed. We may deny him yet. SECOND CITIZEN And will deny him. I'll have five hundred voices of that sound. FIRST CITIZEN I twice five hundred, and their friends to piece 'em. BRUTUS Get you hence instantly, and tell those friends They have chose a consul that will from them take Their liberties, make them of no more voice Than dogs that are as often beat for barking As therefor kept to do so. SICINIUS Let them assemble And, on a safer judgment, all revoke Your ignorant election. Enforce his pride And his old hate unto you. Besides, forget not With what contempt he wore the humble weed, How in his suit he scorned you; but your loves, Thinking upon his services, took from you Th' apprehension of his present portance, Which most gibingly, ungravely, he did fashion After the inveterate hate he bears you. BRUTUS Lay A fault on us, your tribunes, that we labored, No impediment between, but that you must Cast your election on him. SICINIUS Say you chose him More after our commandment than as guided By your own true affections, and that your minds, Preoccupied with what you rather must do Than what you should, made you against the grain To voice him consul. Lay the fault on us. BRUTUS Ay, spare us not. Say we read lectures to you, How youngly he began to serve his country, How long continued, and what stock he springs of, The noble house o' th' Martians, from whence came That Ancus Martius, Numa's daughter's son, Who after great Hostilius here was king, Of the same house Publius and Quintus were, That our best water brought by conduits hither; And Censorinus, that was so surnamed, And nobly named so, twice being censor, Was his great ancestor. SICINIUS One thus descended, That hath besides well in his person wrought To be set high in place, we did commend To your remembrances; but you have found, Scaling his present bearing with his past, That he's your fixed enemy, and revoke Your sudden approbation. BRUTUS Say you ne'er had done 't-- Harp on that still--but by our putting on. And presently, when you have drawn your number, Repair to th' Capitol. ALL We will so. Almost all Repent in their election. [Plebeians exit.] BRUTUS Let them go on. This mutiny were better put in hazard Than stay, past doubt, for greater. If, as his nature is, he fall in rage With their refusal, both observe and answer The vantage of his anger. SICINIUS To th' Capitol, come. We will be there before the stream o' th' people, And this shall seem, as partly 'tis, their own, Which we have goaded onward. [They exit.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Cornets. Enter Coriolanus, Menenius, all the Gentry, Cominius, Titus Lartius, and other Senators.] CORIOLANUS Tullus Aufidius then had made new head? LARTIUS He had, my lord, and that it was which caused Our swifter composition. CORIOLANUS So then the Volsces stand but as at first, Ready, when time shall prompt them, to make road Upon 's again. COMINIUS They are worn, lord consul, so, That we shall hardly in our ages see Their banners wave again. CORIOLANUS Saw you Aufidius? LARTIUS On safeguard he came to me, and did curse Against the Volsces, for they had so vilely Yielded the town. He is retired to Antium. CORIOLANUS Spoke he of me? LARTIUS He did, my lord. CORIOLANUS How? What? LARTIUS How often he had met you sword to sword; That of all things upon the earth he hated Your person most; that he would pawn his fortunes To hopeless restitution, so he might Be called your vanquisher. CORIOLANUS At Antium lives he? LARTIUS At Antium. CORIOLANUS I wish I had a cause to seek him there, To oppose his hatred fully. Welcome home. [Enter Sicinius and Brutus.] Behold, these are the tribunes of the people, The tongues o' th' common mouth. I do despise them, For they do prank them in authority Against all noble sufferance. SICINIUS Pass no further. CORIOLANUS Ha? What is that? BRUTUS It will be dangerous to go on. No further. CORIOLANUS What makes this change? MENENIUS The matter? COMINIUS Hath he not passed the noble and the common? BRUTUS Cominius, no. CORIOLANUS Have I had children's voices? FIRST SENATOR Tribunes, give way. He shall to th' marketplace. BRUTUS The people are incensed against him. SICINIUS Stop, Or all will fall in broil. CORIOLANUS Are these your herd? Must these have voices, that can yield them now And straight disclaim their tongues? What are your offices? You being their mouths, why rule you not their teeth? Have you not set them on? MENENIUS Be calm, be calm. CORIOLANUS It is a purposed thing, and grows by plot, To curb the will of the nobility. Suffer 't, and live with such as cannot rule Nor ever will be ruled. BRUTUS Call 't not a plot. The people cry you mocked them; and, of late, When corn was given them gratis, you repined, Scandaled the suppliants for the people, called them Timepleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness. CORIOLANUS Why, this was known before. BRUTUS Not to them all. CORIOLANUS Have you informed them sithence? BRUTUS How? I inform them? COMINIUS You are like to do such business. BRUTUS Not unlike, each way, to better yours. CORIOLANUS Why then should I be consul? By yond clouds, Let me deserve so ill as you, and make me Your fellow tribune. SICINIUS You show too much of that For which the people stir. If you will pass To where you are bound, you must inquire your way, Which you are out of, with a gentler spirit, Or never be so noble as a consul, Nor yoke with him for tribune. MENENIUS Let's be calm. COMINIUS The people are abused, set on. This palt'ring Becomes not Rome, nor has Coriolanus Deserved this so dishonored rub, laid falsely I' th' plain way of his merit. CORIOLANUS Tell me of corn? This was my speech, and I will speak 't again. MENENIUS Not now, not now. FIRST SENATOR Not in this heat, sir, now. CORIOLANUS Now, as I live, I will. My nobler friends, I crave their pardons. For The mutable, rank-scented meiny, let them Regard me, as I do not flatter, and Therein behold themselves. I say again, In soothing them, we nourish 'gainst our senate The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition, Which we ourselves have plowed for, sowed, and scattered By mingling them with us, the honored number, Who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that Which they have given to beggars. MENENIUS Well, no more. FIRST SENATOR No more words, we beseech you. CORIOLANUS How? No more? As for my country I have shed my blood, Not fearing outward force, so shall my lungs Coin words till their decay against those measles Which we disdain should tetter us, yet sought The very way to catch them. BRUTUS You speak o' th' people As if you were a god to punish, not A man of their infirmity. SICINIUS 'Twere well We let the people know 't. MENENIUS What, what? His choler? CORIOLANUS Choler? Were I as patient as the midnight sleep, By Jove, 'twould be my mind. SICINIUS It is a mind That shall remain a poison where it is, Not poison any further. CORIOLANUS "Shall remain"? Hear you this Triton of the minnows? Mark you His absolute "shall"? COMINIUS 'Twas from the canon. CORIOLANUS "Shall"? O good but most unwise patricians, why, You grave but reckless senators, have you thus Given Hydra here to choose an officer, That with his peremptory "shall," being but The horn and noise o' th' monster's, wants not spirit To say he'll turn your current in a ditch And make your channel his? If he have power, Then vail your ignorance; if none, awake Your dangerous lenity. If you are learned, Be not as common fools; if you are not, Let them have cushions by you. You are plebeians, If they be senators; and they are no less When, both your voices blended, the great'st taste Most palates theirs. They choose their magistrate, And such a one as he, who puts his "shall," His popular "shall," against a graver bench Than ever frowned in Greece. By Jove himself, It makes the consuls base! And my soul aches To know, when two authorities are up, Neither supreme, how soon confusion May enter 'twixt the gap of both and take The one by th' other. COMINIUS Well, on to th' marketplace. CORIOLANUS Whoever gave that counsel to give forth The corn o' th' storehouse gratis, as 'twas used Sometime in Greece-- MENENIUS Well, well, no more of that. CORIOLANUS Though there the people had more absolute power, I say they nourished disobedience, fed The ruin of the state. BRUTUS Why shall the people give One that speaks thus their voice? CORIOLANUS I'll give my reasons, More worthier than their voices. They know the corn Was not our recompense, resting well assured They ne'er did service for 't. Being pressed to th' war, Even when the navel of the state was touched, They would not thread the gates. This kind of service Did not deserve corn gratis. Being i' th' war, Their mutinies and revolts, wherein they showed Most valor, spoke not for them. Th' accusation Which they have often made against the Senate, All cause unborn, could never be the native Of our so frank donation. Well, what then? How shall this bosom multiplied digest The Senate's courtesy? Let deeds express What's like to be their words: "We did request it; We are the greater poll, and in true fear They gave us our demands." Thus we debase The nature of our seats and make the rabble Call our cares fears, which will in time Break ope the locks o' th' Senate and bring in The crows to peck the eagles. MENENIUS Come, enough. BRUTUS Enough, with over-measure. CORIOLANUS No, take more! What may be sworn by, both divine and human, Seal what I end withal! This double worship-- Where one part does disdain with cause, the other Insult without all reason, where gentry, title, wisdom Cannot conclude but by the yea and no Of general ignorance--it must omit Real necessities and give way the while To unstable slightness. Purpose so barred, it follows Nothing is done to purpose. Therefore, beseech you-- You that will be less fearful than discreet, That love the fundamental part of state More than you doubt the change on 't, that prefer A noble life before a long, and wish To jump a body with a dangerous physic That's sure of death without it--at once pluck out The multitudinous tongue; let them not lick The sweet which is their poison. Your dishonor Mangles true judgment and bereaves the state Of that integrity which should become 't, Not having the power to do the good it would For th' ill which doth control 't. BRUTUS 'Has said enough. SICINIUS 'Has spoken like a traitor and shall answer As traitors do. CORIOLANUS Thou wretch, despite o'erwhelm thee! What should the people do with these bald tribunes, On whom depending, their obedience fails To th' greater bench? In a rebellion, When what's not meet but what must be was law, Then were they chosen. In a better hour, Let what is meet be said it must be meet, And throw their power i' th' dust. BRUTUS Manifest treason. SICINIUS This a consul? No. BRUTUS The aediles, ho! Let him be apprehended. [Enter an Aedile.] SICINIUS Go, call the people; [Aedile exits.] in whose name myself Attach thee as a traitorous innovator, A foe to th' public weal. Obey, I charge thee, And follow to thine answer. CORIOLANUS Hence, old goat. ALL PATRICIANS We'll surety him. COMINIUS, [to Sicinius] Aged sir, hands off. CORIOLANUS, [to Sicinius] Hence, rotten thing, or I shall shake thy bones Out of thy garments. SICINIUS Help, you citizens! [Enter a rabble of Plebeians with the Aediles.] MENENIUS On both sides more respect! SICINIUS Here's he that would take from you all your power. BRUTUS Seize him, aediles. ALL PLEBEIANS Down with him, down with him! SECOND SENATOR Weapons, weapons, weapons! [They all bustle about Coriolanus.] Tribunes, patricians, citizens, what ho! Sicinius, Brutus, Coriolanus, citizens! ALL Peace, peace, peace! Stay, hold, peace! MENENIUS What is about to be? I am out of breath. Confusion's near. I cannot speak. You, tribunes To th' people!--Coriolanus, patience!-- Speak, good Sicinius. SICINIUS Hear me, people! Peace! ALL PLEBEIANS Let's hear our tribune. Peace! Speak, speak, speak. SICINIUS You are at point to lose your liberties. Martius would have all from you, Martius, Whom late you have named for consul. MENENIUS Fie, fie, fie! This is the way to kindle, not to quench. FIRST SENATOR To unbuild the city and to lay all flat. SICINIUS What is the city but the people? ALL PLEBEIANS True, The people are the city. BRUTUS By the consent of all, we were established The people's magistrates. ALL PLEBEIANS You so remain. MENENIUS And so are like to do. CORIOLANUS That is the way to lay the city flat, To bring the roof to the foundation And bury all which yet distinctly ranges In heaps and piles of ruin. SICINIUS This deserves death. BRUTUS Or let us stand to our authority Or let us lose it. We do here pronounce, Upon the part o' th' people, in whose power We were elected theirs, Martius is worthy Of present death. SICINIUS Therefore lay hold of him, Bear him to th' rock Tarpeian, and from thence Into destruction cast him. BRUTUS Aediles, seize him! ALL PLEBEIANS Yield, Martius, yield! MENENIUS Hear me one word. Beseech you, tribunes, hear me but a word. AEDILES Peace, peace! MENENIUS Be that you seem, truly your country's friend, And temp'rately proceed to what you would Thus violently redress. BRUTUS Sir, those cold ways, That seem like prudent helps, are very poisonous Where the disease is violent.--Lay hands upon him, And bear him to the rock. [Coriolanus draws his sword.] CORIOLANUS No, I'll die here. There's some among you have beheld me fighting. Come, try upon yourselves what you have seen me. MENENIUS Down with that sword!--Tribunes, withdraw awhile. BRUTUS Lay hands upon him! MENENIUS Help Martius, help! You that be noble, help him, young and old! ALL PLEBEIANS Down with him, down with him! [In this mutiny, the Tribunes, the Aediles, and the People are beat in.] MENENIUS, [to Coriolanus] Go, get you to your house. Begone, away. All will be naught else. SECOND SENATOR Get you gone. CORIOLANUS Stand fast! We have as many friends as enemies. MENENIUS Shall it be put to that? FIRST SENATOR The gods forbid!-- I prithee, noble friend, home to thy house; Leave us to cure this cause. MENENIUS For 'tis a sore upon us You cannot tent yourself. Begone, beseech you. COMINIUS Come, sir, along with us. CORIOLANUS I would they were barbarians, as they are, Though in Rome littered; not Romans, as they are not, Though calved i' th' porch o' th' Capitol. MENENIUS Begone! Put not your worthy rage into your tongue. One time will owe another. CORIOLANUS On fair ground I could beat forty of them. MENENIUS I could myself Take up a brace o' th' best of them, yea, the two tribunes. COMINIUS But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetic, And manhood is called foolery when it stands Against a falling fabric. [To Coriolanus.] Will you hence, Before the tag return, whose rage doth rend Like interrupted waters and o'erbear What they are used to bear? MENENIUS, [to Coriolanus] Pray you, begone. I'll try whether my old wit be in request With those that have but little. This must be patched With cloth of any color. COMINIUS Nay, come away. [Coriolanus and Cominius exit.] PATRICIAN This man has marred his fortune. MENENIUS His nature is too noble for the world. He would not flatter Neptune for his trident Or Jove for 's power to thunder. His heart's his mouth; What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent, And, being angry, does forget that ever He heard the name of death. [A noise within.] Here's goodly work. PATRICIAN I would they were abed! MENENIUS I would they were in Tiber. What the vengeance, Could he not speak 'em fair? [Enter Brutus and Sicinius with the rabble again.] SICINIUS Where is this viper That would depopulate the city and Be every man himself? MENENIUS You worthy tribunes-- SICINIUS He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock With rigorous hands. He hath resisted law, And therefore law shall scorn him further trial Than the severity of the public power Which he so sets at naught. FIRST CITIZEN He shall well know The noble tribunes are the people's mouths And we their hands. ALL PLEBEIANS He shall, sure on 't. MENENIUS Sir, sir-- SICINIUS Peace! MENENIUS Do not cry havoc where you should but hunt With modest warrant. SICINIUS Sir, how comes 't that you Have holp to make this rescue? MENENIUS Hear me speak. As I do know the Consul's worthiness, So can I name his faults. SICINIUS Consul? What consul? MENENIUS The consul Coriolanus. BRUTUS He consul? ALL PLEBEIANS No, no, no, no, no! MENENIUS If, by the Tribunes' leave, and yours, good people, I may be heard, I would crave a word or two, The which shall turn you to no further harm Than so much loss of time. SICINIUS Speak briefly then, For we are peremptory to dispatch This viperous traitor. To eject him hence Were but one danger, and to keep him here Our certain death. Therefore it is decreed He dies tonight. MENENIUS Now the good gods forbid That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude Towards her deserved children is enrolled In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam Should now eat up her own. SICINIUS He's a disease that must be cut away. MENENIUS O, he's a limb that has but a disease-- Mortal to cut it off; to cure it easy. What has he done to Rome that's worthy death? Killing our enemies, the blood he hath lost-- Which I dare vouch is more than that he hath By many an ounce--he dropped it for his country; And what is left, to lose it by his country Were to us all that do 't and suffer it A brand to th' end o' th' world. SICINIUS This is clean cam. BRUTUS Merely awry. When he did love his country, It honored him. SICINIUS The service of the foot, Being once gangrened, is not then respected For what before it was. BRUTUS We'll hear no more. Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence, Lest his infection, being of catching nature, Spread further. MENENIUS One word more, one word! This tiger-footed rage, when it shall find The harm of unscanned swiftness, will too late Tie leaden pounds to 's heels. Proceed by process, Lest parties--as he is beloved--break out And sack great Rome with Romans. BRUTUS If it were so-- SICINIUS What do you talk? Have we not had a taste of his obedience? Our aediles smote! Ourselves resisted! Come. MENENIUS Consider this: he has been bred i' th' wars Since he could draw a sword, and is ill schooled In bolted language; meal and bran together He throws without distinction. Give me leave, I'll go to him and undertake to bring him Where he shall answer by a lawful form, In peace, to his utmost peril. FIRST SENATOR Noble tribunes, It is the humane way: the other course Will prove too bloody, and the end of it Unknown to the beginning. SICINIUS Noble Menenius, Be you then as the people's officer.-- Masters, lay down your weapons. BRUTUS Go not home. SICINIUS Meet on the marketplace. [To Menenius.] We'll attend you there, Where if you bring not Martius, we'll proceed In our first way. MENENIUS I'll bring him to you. [To Senators.] Let me desire your company. He must come, Or what is worst will follow. FIRST SENATOR Pray you, let's to him. [All exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Coriolanus with Nobles.] CORIOLANUS Let them pull all about mine ears, present me Death on the wheel or at wild horses' heels, Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock, That the precipitation might down stretch Below the beam of sight, yet will I still Be thus to them. NOBLE You do the nobler. CORIOLANUS I muse my mother Does not approve me further, who was wont To call them woolen vassals, things created To buy and sell with groats, to show bare heads In congregations, to yawn, be still, and wonder When one but of my ordinance stood up To speak of peace or war. [Enter Volumnia.] I talk of you. Why did you wish me milder? Would you have me False to my nature? Rather say I play The man I am. VOLUMNIA O sir, sir, sir, I would have had you put your power well on Before you had worn it out. CORIOLANUS Let go. VOLUMNIA You might have been enough the man you are With striving less to be so. Lesser had been The thwartings of your dispositions if You had not showed them how you were disposed Ere they lacked power to cross you. CORIOLANUS Let them hang! VOLUMNIA Ay, and burn too. [Enter Menenius with the Senators.] MENENIUS, [to Coriolanus] Come, come, you have been too rough, something too rough. You must return and mend it. FIRST SENATOR There's no remedy, Unless, by not so doing, our good city Cleave in the midst and perish. VOLUMNIA Pray be counseled. I have a heart as little apt as yours, But yet a brain that leads my use of anger To better vantage. MENENIUS Well said, noble woman. Before he should thus stoop to th' herd--but that The violent fit o' th' time craves it as physic For the whole state--I would put mine armor on, Which I can scarcely bear. CORIOLANUS What must I do? MENENIUS Return to th' Tribunes. CORIOLANUS Well, what then? What then? MENENIUS Repent what you have spoke. CORIOLANUS For them? I cannot do it to the gods. Must I then do 't to them? VOLUMNIA You are too absolute, Though therein you can never be too noble But when extremities speak. I have heard you say Honor and policy, like unsevered friends, I' th' war do grow together. Grant that, and tell me In peace what each of them by th' other lose That they combine not there? CORIOLANUS Tush, tush! MENENIUS A good demand. VOLUMNIA If it be honor in your wars to seem The same you are not, which for your best ends You adopt your policy, how is it less or worse That it shall hold companionship in peace With honor as in war, since that to both It stands in like request? CORIOLANUS Why force you this? VOLUMNIA Because that now it lies you on to speak To th' people, not by your own instruction, Nor by th' matter which your heart prompts you, But with such words that are but roted in Your tongue, though but bastards and syllables Of no allowance to your bosom's truth. Now, this no more dishonors you at all Than to take in a town with gentle words, Which else would put you to your fortune and The hazard of much blood. I would dissemble with my nature where My fortunes and my friends at stake required I should do so in honor. I am in this Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles; And you will rather show our general louts How you can frown than spend a fawn upon 'em For the inheritance of their loves and safeguard Of what that want might ruin. MENENIUS Noble lady!-- Come, go with us; speak fair. You may salve so, Not what is dangerous present, but the loss Of what is past. VOLUMNIA I prithee now, my son, Go to them with this bonnet in thy hand, And thus far having stretched it--here be with them-- Thy knee bussing the stones--for in such business Action is eloquence, and the eyes of th' ignorant More learned than the ears--waving thy head, Which often thus correcting thy stout heart, Now humble as the ripest mulberry That will not hold the handling. Or say to them Thou art their soldier and, being bred in broils, Hast not the soft way, which thou dost confess Were fit for thee to use as they to claim, In asking their good loves; but thou wilt frame Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far As thou hast power and person. MENENIUS This but done Even as she speaks, why, their hearts were yours; For they have pardons, being asked, as free As words to little purpose. VOLUMNIA Prithee now, Go, and be ruled; although I know thou hadst rather Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf Than flatter him in a bower. [Enter Cominius.] Here is Cominius. COMINIUS I have been i' th' marketplace; and, sir, 'tis fit You make strong party or defend yourself By calmness or by absence. All's in anger. MENENIUS Only fair speech. COMINIUS I think 'twill serve, if he Can thereto frame his spirit. VOLUMNIA He must, and will.-- Prithee, now, say you will, and go about it. CORIOLANUS Must I go show them my unbarbed sconce? Must I With my base tongue give to my noble heart A lie that it must bear? Well, I will do 't. Yet, were there but this single plot to lose, This mold of Martius, they to dust should grind it And throw 't against the wind. To th' marketplace! You have put me now to such a part which never I shall discharge to th' life. COMINIUS Come, come, we'll prompt you. VOLUMNIA I prithee now, sweet son, as thou hast said My praises made thee first a soldier, so, To have my praise for this, perform a part Thou hast not done before. CORIOLANUS Well, I must do 't. Away, my disposition, and possess me Some harlot's spirit! My throat of war be turned, Which choired with my drum, into a pipe Small as an eunuch or the virgin voice That babies lull asleep! The smiles of knaves Tent in my cheeks, and schoolboys' tears take up The glasses of my sight! A beggar's tongue Make motion through my lips, and my armed knees, Who bowed but in my stirrup, bend like his That hath received an alms. I will not do 't, Lest I surcease to honor mine own truth And, by my body's action, teach my mind A most inherent baseness. VOLUMNIA At thy choice, then. To beg of thee, it is my more dishonor Than thou of them. Come all to ruin. Let Thy mother rather feel thy pride than fear Thy dangerous stoutness, for I mock at death With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list. Thy valiantness was mine; thou suck'st it from me, But owe thy pride thyself. CORIOLANUS Pray be content. Mother, I am going to the marketplace. Chide me no more. I'll mountebank their loves, Cog their hearts from them, and come home beloved Of all the trades in Rome. Look, I am going. Commend me to my wife. I'll return consul, Or never trust to what my tongue can do I' th' way of flattery further. VOLUMNIA Do your will. [Volumnia exits.] COMINIUS Away! The Tribunes do attend you. Arm yourself To answer mildly, for they are prepared With accusations, as I hear, more strong Than are upon you yet. CORIOLANUS The word is "mildly." Pray you, let us go. Let them accuse me by invention, I Will answer in mine honor. MENENIUS Ay, but mildly. CORIOLANUS Well, mildly be it, then. Mildly. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Sicinius and Brutus.] BRUTUS In this point charge him home, that he affects Tyrannical power. If he evade us there, Enforce him with his envy to the people, And that the spoil got on the Antiates Was ne'er distributed. [Enter an Aedile.] What, will he come? AEDILE He's coming. BRUTUS How accompanied? AEDILE With old Menenius, and those senators That always favored him. SICINIUS Have you a catalogue Of all the voices that we have procured, Set down by th' poll? AEDILE I have. 'Tis ready. SICINIUS Have you collected them by tribes? AEDILE I have. SICINIUS Assemble presently the people hither; And when they hear me say "It shall be so I' th' right and strength o' th' commons," be it either For death, for fine, or banishment, then let them If I say "Fine," cry "Fine," if "Death," cry "Death," Insisting on the old prerogative And power i' th' truth o' th' cause. AEDILE I shall inform them. BRUTUS And when such time they have begun to cry, Let them not cease, but with a din confused Enforce the present execution Of what we chance to sentence. AEDILE Very well. SICINIUS Make them be strong and ready for this hint When we shall hap to give 't them. BRUTUS Go about it. [Aedile exits.] Put him to choler straight. He hath been used Ever to conquer and to have his worth Of contradiction. Being once chafed, he cannot Be reined again to temperance; then he speaks What's in his heart, and that is there which looks With us to break his neck. [Enter Coriolanus, Menenius, and Cominius, with others (Senators).] SICINIUS Well, here he comes. MENENIUS, [aside to Coriolanus] Calmly, I do beseech you. CORIOLANUS, [aside to Menenius] Ay, as an hostler that for th' poorest piece Will bear the knave by th' volume.--Th' honored gods Keep Rome in safety and the chairs of justice Supplied with worthy men! Plant love among 's! Throng our large temples with the shows of peace And not our streets with war! FIRST SENATOR Amen, amen. MENENIUS A noble wish. [Enter the Aedile with the Plebeians.] SICINIUS Draw near, you people. AEDILE List to your tribunes. Audience! Peace, I say! CORIOLANUS First, hear me speak. BOTH TRIBUNES Well, say.--Peace, ho! CORIOLANUS Shall I be charged no further than this present? Must all determine here? SICINIUS I do demand If you submit you to the people's voices, Allow their officers, and are content To suffer lawful censure for such faults As shall be proved upon you. CORIOLANUS I am content. MENENIUS Lo, citizens, he says he is content. The warlike service he has done, consider. Think Upon the wounds his body bears, which show Like graves i' th' holy churchyard. CORIOLANUS Scratches with briars, Scars to move laughter only. MENENIUS Consider further, That when he speaks not like a citizen, You find him like a soldier. Do not take His rougher accents for malicious sounds, But, as I say, such as become a soldier Rather than envy you. COMINIUS Well, well, no more. CORIOLANUS What is the matter, That, being passed for consul with full voice, I am so dishonored that the very hour You take it off again? SICINIUS Answer to us. CORIOLANUS Say then. 'Tis true, I ought so. SICINIUS We charge you that you have contrived to take From Rome all seasoned office and to wind Yourself into a power tyrannical, For which you are a traitor to the people. CORIOLANUS How? Traitor? MENENIUS Nay, temperately! Your promise. CORIOLANUS The fires i' th' lowest hell fold in the people! Call me their traitor? Thou injurious tribune! Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths, In thy hands clutched as many millions, in Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say "Thou liest" unto thee with a voice as free As I do pray the gods. SICINIUS Mark you this, people? ALL PLEBEIANS To th' rock, to th' rock with him! SICINIUS Peace! We need not put new matter to his charge. What you have seen him do and heard him speak, Beating your officers, cursing yourselves, Opposing laws with strokes, and here defying Those whose great power must try him--even this, So criminal and in such capital kind, Deserves th' extremest death. BRUTUS But since he hath Served well for Rome-- CORIOLANUS What do you prate of service? BRUTUS I talk of that that know it. CORIOLANUS You? MENENIUS Is this the promise that you made your mother? COMINIUS Know, I pray you-- CORIOLANUS I'll know no further. Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death, Vagabond exile, flaying, pent to linger But with a grain a day, I would not buy Their mercy at the price of one fair word, Nor check my courage for what they can give, To have 't with saying "Good morrow." SICINIUS For that he has, As much as in him lies, from time to time Envied against the people, seeking means To pluck away their power, as now at last Given hostile strokes, and that not in the presence Of dreaded justice, but on the ministers That doth distribute it, in the name o' th' people And in the power of us the Tribunes, we, Even from this instant, banish him our city In peril of precipitation From off the rock Tarpeian, never more To enter our Rome gates. I' th' people's name, I say it shall be so. ALL PLEBEIANS It shall be so, it shall be so! Let him away! He's banished, and it shall be so. COMINIUS Hear me, my masters and my common friends-- SICINIUS He's sentenced. No more hearing. COMINIUS Let me speak. I have been consul and can show for Rome Her enemies' marks upon me. I do love My country's good with a respect more tender, More holy and profound, than mine own life, My dear wife's estimate, her womb's increase, And treasure of my loins. Then if I would Speak that-- SICINIUS We know your drift. Speak what? BRUTUS There's no more to be said, but he is banished As enemy to the people and his country. It shall be so. ALL PLEBEIANS It shall be so, it shall be so! CORIOLANUS You common cry of curs, whose breath I hate As reek o' th' rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead carcasses of unburied men That do corrupt my air, I banish you! And here remain with your uncertainty; Let every feeble rumor shake your hearts; Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes, Fan you into despair! Have the power still To banish your defenders, till at length Your ignorance--which finds not till it feels, Making but reservation of yourselves, Still your own foes--deliver you As most abated captives to some nation That won you without blows! Despising For you the city, thus I turn my back. There is a world elsewhere. [Coriolanus, Cominius, with others (Senators) exit.] AEDILE The people's enemy is gone, is gone. ALL PLEBEIANS Our enemy is banished; he is gone. Hoo, hoo! [They all shout and throw up their caps.] SICINIUS Go see him out at gates, and follow him, As he hath followed you, with all despite. Give him deserved vexation. Let a guard Attend us through the city. ALL PLEBEIANS Come, come, let's see him out at gates! Come! The gods preserve our noble tribunes! Come! [They exit.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Coriolanus, Volumnia, Virgilia, Menenius, Cominius, with the young nobility of Rome.] CORIOLANUS Come, leave your tears. A brief farewell. The beast With many heads butts me away. Nay, mother, Where is your ancient courage? You were used To say extremities was the trier of spirits; That common chances common men could bear; That when the sea was calm, all boats alike Showed mastership in floating; fortune's blows When most struck home, being gentle wounded craves A noble cunning. You were used to load me With precepts that would make invincible The heart that conned them. VIRGILIA O heavens! O heavens! CORIOLANUS Nay, I prithee, woman-- VOLUMNIA Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome, And occupations perish! CORIOLANUS What, what, what! I shall be loved when I am lacked. Nay, mother, Resume that spirit when you were wont to say If you had been the wife of Hercules, Six of his labors you'd have done and saved Your husband so much sweat.--Cominius, Droop not. Adieu.--Farewell, my wife, my mother. I'll do well yet.--Thou old and true Menenius, Thy tears are salter than a younger man's And venomous to thine eyes.--My sometime general, I have seen thee stern, and thou hast oft beheld Heart-hard'ning spectacles. Tell these sad women 'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes As 'tis to laugh at 'em.--My mother, you wot well My hazards still have been your solace, and-- Believe 't not lightly--though I go alone, Like to a lonely dragon that his fen Makes feared and talked of more than seen, your son Will or exceed the common or be caught With cautelous baits and practice. VOLUMNIA My first son, Whither wilt thou go? Take good Cominius With thee awhile. Determine on some course More than a wild exposure to each chance That starts i' th' way before thee. VIRGILIA O the gods! COMINIUS I'll follow thee a month, devise with thee Where thou shalt rest, that thou mayst hear of us And we of thee; so if the time thrust forth A cause for thy repeal, we shall not send O'er the vast world to seek a single man And lose advantage, which doth ever cool I' th' absence of the needer. CORIOLANUS Fare you well. Thou hast years upon thee, and thou art too full Of the wars' surfeits to go rove with one That's yet unbruised. Bring me but out at gate.-- Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, and My friends of noble touch. When I am forth, Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you, come. While I remain above the ground, you shall Hear from me still, and never of me aught But what is like me formerly. MENENIUS That's worthily As any ear can hear. Come, let's not weep. If I could shake off but one seven years From these old arms and legs, by the good gods, I'd with thee every foot. CORIOLANUS Give me thy hand. Come. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter the two Tribunes, Sicinius, and Brutus, with the Aedile.] SICINIUS Bid them all home. He's gone, and we'll no further. The nobility are vexed, whom we see have sided In his behalf. BRUTUS Now we have shown our power, Let us seem humbler after it is done Than when it was a-doing. SICINIUS Bid them home. Say their great enemy is gone, and they Stand in their ancient strength. BRUTUS Dismiss them home. [Aedile exits.] Here comes his mother. [Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Menenius.] SICINIUS Let's not meet her. BRUTUS Why? SICINIUS They say she's mad. BRUTUS They have ta'en note of us. Keep on your way. VOLUMNIA O, you're well met. The hoarded plague o' th' gods Requite your love! MENENIUS Peace, peace! Be not so loud. VOLUMNIA, [to the Tribunes] If that I could for weeping, you should hear-- Nay, and you shall hear some. [(To Sicinius.)] Will you be gone? VIRGILIA, [to Brutus] You shall stay too. I would I had the power To say so to my husband. SICINIUS, [to Volumnia] Are you mankind? VOLUMNIA Ay, fool, is that a shame? Note but this, fool. Was not a man my father? Hadst thou foxship To banish him that struck more blows for Rome Than thou hast spoken words? SICINIUS O blessed heavens! VOLUMNIA More noble blows than ever thou wise words, And for Rome's good. I'll tell thee what--yet go. Nay, but thou shalt stay too. I would my son Were in Arabia and thy tribe before him, His good sword in his hand. SICINIUS What then? VIRGILIA What then? He'd make an end of thy posterity. VOLUMNIA Bastards and all. Good man, the wounds that he does bear for Rome! MENENIUS Come, come, peace. SICINIUS I would he had continued to his country As he began, and not unknit himself The noble knot he made. BRUTUS I would he had. VOLUMNIA "I would he had"? 'Twas you incensed the rabble. Cats, that can judge as fitly of his worth As I can of those mysteries which heaven Will not have Earth to know. BRUTUS, [to Sicinius] Pray, let's go. VOLUMNIA Now, pray, sir, get you gone. You have done a brave deed. Ere you go, hear this: As far as doth the Capitol exceed The meanest house in Rome, so far my son-- This lady's husband here, this, do you see?-- Whom you have banished, does exceed you all. BRUTUS Well, well, we'll leave you. SICINIUS Why stay we to be baited With one that wants her wits? [Tribunes exit.] VOLUMNIA Take my prayers with you. I would the gods had nothing else to do But to confirm my curses. Could I meet 'em But once a day, it would unclog my heart Of what lies heavy to 't. MENENIUS You have told them home, And, by my troth, you have cause. You'll sup with me? VOLUMNIA Anger's my meat. I sup upon myself And so shall starve with feeding. [(To Virgilia.)] Come, let's go. Leave this faint puling, and lament as I do, In anger, Juno-like. Come, come, come. [They exit.] MENENIUS Fie, fie, fie! [He exits.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter a Roman (Nicanor) and a Volsce (Adrian).] ROMAN I know you well, sir, and you know me. Your name I think is Adrian. VOLSCE It is so, sir. Truly, I have forgot you. ROMAN I am a Roman, and my services are, as you are, against 'em. Know you me yet? VOLSCE Nicanor, no? ROMAN The same, sir. VOLSCE You had more beard when I last saw you, but your favor is well approved by your tongue. What's the news in Rome? I have a note from the Volscian state to find you out there. You have well saved me a day's journey. ROMAN There hath been in Rome strange insurrections, the people against the senators, patricians, and nobles. VOLSCE Hath been? Is it ended, then? Our state thinks not so. They are in a most warlike preparation and hope to come upon them in the heat of their division. ROMAN The main blaze of it is past, but a small thing would make it flame again; for the nobles receive so to heart the banishment of that worthy Coriolanus that they are in a ripe aptness to take all power from the people and to pluck from them their tribunes forever. This lies glowing, I can tell you, and is almost mature for the violent breaking out. VOLSCE Coriolanus banished? ROMAN Banished, sir. VOLSCE You will be welcome with this intelligence, Nicanor. ROMAN The day serves well for them now. I have heard it said the fittest time to corrupt a man's wife is when she's fall'n out with her husband. Your noble Tullus Aufidius will appear well in these wars, his great opposer Coriolanus being now in no request of his country. VOLSCE He cannot choose. I am most fortunate thus accidentally to encounter you. You have ended my business, and I will merrily accompany you home. ROMAN I shall between this and supper tell you most strange things from Rome, all tending to the good of their adversaries. Have you an army ready, say you? VOLSCE A most royal one. The centurions and their charges, distinctly billeted, already in th' entertainment, and to be on foot at an hour's warning. ROMAN I am joyful to hear of their readiness and am the man, I think, that shall set them in present action. So, sir, heartily well met, and most glad of your company. VOLSCE You take my part from me, sir. I have the most cause to be glad of yours. ROMAN Well, let us go together. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Coriolanus in mean apparel, disguised, and muffled.] CORIOLANUS A goodly city is this Antium. City, 'Tis I that made thy widows. Many an heir Of these fair edifices 'fore my wars Have I heard groan and drop. Then, know me not, Lest that thy wives with spits and boys with stones In puny battle slay me. [Enter a Citizen.] Save you, sir. CITIZEN And you. CORIOLANUS Direct me, if it be your will, Where great Aufidius lies. Is he in Antium? CITIZEN He is, and feasts the nobles of the state At his house this night. CORIOLANUS Which is his house, beseech you? CITIZEN This here before you. CORIOLANUS Thank you, sir. Farewell. [Citizen exits.] O world, thy slippery turns! Friends now fast sworn, Whose double bosoms seems to wear one heart, Whose hours, whose bed, whose meal and exercise Are still together, who twin, as 'twere, in love Unseparable, shall within this hour, On a dissension of a doit, break out To bitterest enmity; so fellest foes, Whose passions and whose plots have broke their sleep To take the one the other, by some chance, Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear friends And interjoin their issues. So with me: My birthplace hate I, and my love's upon This enemy town. I'll enter. If he slay me, He does fair justice; if he give me way, I'll do his country service. [He exits.] Scene 5 ======= [Music plays. Enter a Servingman.] FIRST SERVINGMAN Wine, wine, wine! What service is here? I think our fellows are asleep. [He exits.] [Enter another Servingman.] SECOND SERVINGMAN Where's Cotus? My master calls for him. Cotus! [He exits.] [Enter Coriolanus.] CORIOLANUS A goodly house. The feast smells well, but I Appear not like a guest. [Enter the First Servingman.] FIRST SERVINGMAN What would you have, friend? Whence are you? Here's no place for you. Pray, go to the door. [He exits.] CORIOLANUS I have deserved no better entertainment In being Coriolanus. [Enter Second Servingman.] SECOND SERVINGMAN Whence are you, sir?--Has the porter his eyes in his head, that he gives entrance to such companions?--Pray, get you out. CORIOLANUS Away! SECOND SERVINGMAN Away? Get you away. CORIOLANUS Now th' art troublesome. SECOND SERVINGMAN Are you so brave? I'll have you talked with anon. [Enter Third Servingman; the First, entering, meets him.] THIRD SERVINGMAN What fellow's this? FIRST SERVINGMAN A strange one as ever I looked on. I cannot get him out o' th' house. Prithee, call my master to him. [He steps aside.] THIRD SERVINGMAN What have you to do here, fellow? Pray you, avoid the house. CORIOLANUS Let me but stand. I will not hurt your hearth. THIRD SERVINGMAN What are you? CORIOLANUS A gentleman. THIRD SERVINGMAN A marv'llous poor one. CORIOLANUS True, so I am. THIRD SERVINGMAN Pray you, poor gentleman, take up some other station. Here's no place for you. Pray you, avoid. Come. CORIOLANUS Follow your function, go, and batten on cold bits. [Pushes him away from him.] THIRD SERVINGMAN What, you will not?--Prithee, tell my master what a strange guest he has here. SECOND SERVINGMAN And I shall. [Second Servingman exits.] THIRD SERVINGMAN Where dwell'st thou? CORIOLANUS Under the canopy. THIRD SERVINGMAN Under the canopy? CORIOLANUS Ay. THIRD SERVINGMAN Where's that? CORIOLANUS I' th' city of kites and crows. THIRD SERVINGMAN I' th' city of kites and crows? What an ass it is! Then thou dwell'st with daws too? CORIOLANUS No, I serve not thy master. THIRD SERVINGMAN How, sir? Do you meddle with my master? CORIOLANUS Ay, 'tis an honester service than to meddle with thy mistress. Thou prat'st and prat'st. Serve with thy trencher. Hence! [Beats him away.] [Third Servingman exits.] [Enter Aufidius with the Second Servingman.] AUFIDIUS Where is this fellow? SECOND SERVINGMAN Here, sir. I'd have beaten him like a dog, but for disturbing the lords within. [He steps aside.] AUFIDIUS Whence com'st thou? What wouldst thou? Thy name? Why speak'st not? Speak, man. What's thy name? CORIOLANUS, [removing his muffler] If, Tullus, Not yet thou know'st me, and seeing me, dost not Think me for the man I am, necessity Commands me name myself. AUFIDIUS What is thy name? CORIOLANUS A name unmusical to the Volscians' ears And harsh in sound to thine. AUFIDIUS Say, what's thy name? Thou hast a grim appearance, and thy face Bears a command in 't. Though thy tackle's torn, Thou show'st a noble vessel. What's thy name? CORIOLANUS Prepare thy brow to frown. Know'st thou me yet? AUFIDIUS I know thee not. Thy name? CORIOLANUS My name is Caius Martius, who hath done To thee particularly and to all the Volsces Great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may My surname Coriolanus. The painful service, The extreme dangers, and the drops of blood Shed for my thankless country are requited But with that surname, a good memory And witness of the malice and displeasure Which thou shouldst bear me. Only that name remains. The cruelty and envy of the people, Permitted by our dastard nobles, who Have all forsook me, hath devoured the rest, And suffered me by th' voice of slaves to be Whooped out of Rome. Now this extremity Hath brought me to thy hearth, not out of hope-- Mistake me not--to save my life; for if I had feared death, of all the men i' th' world I would have 'voided thee, but in mere spite, To be full quit of those my banishers, Stand I before thee here. Then if thou hast A heart of wreak in thee, that wilt revenge Thine own particular wrongs and stop those maims Of shame seen through thy country, speed thee straight And make my misery serve thy turn. So use it That my revengeful services may prove As benefits to thee, for I will fight Against my cankered country with the spleen Of all the under fiends. But if so be Thou dar'st not this, and that to prove more fortunes Thou 'rt tired, then, in a word, I also am Longer to live most weary, and present My throat to thee and to thy ancient malice, Which not to cut would show thee but a fool, Since I have ever followed thee with hate, Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast, And cannot live but to thy shame, unless It be to do thee service. AUFIDIUS O Martius, Martius, Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my heart A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter Should from yond cloud speak divine things And say 'tis true, I'd not believe them more Than thee, all-noble Martius. Let me twine Mine arms about that body, whereagainst My grained ash an hundred times hath broke And scarred the moon with splinters. [They embrace.] Here I clip The anvil of my sword and do contest As hotly and as nobly with thy love As ever in ambitious strength I did Contend against thy valor. Know thou first, I loved the maid I married; never man Sighed truer breath. But that I see thee here, Thou noble thing, more dances my rapt heart Than when I first my wedded mistress saw Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars, I tell thee We have a power on foot, and I had purpose Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn Or lose mine arm for 't. Thou hast beat me out Twelve several times, and I have nightly since Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me; We have been down together in my sleep, Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat, And waked half dead with nothing. Worthy Martius, Had we no other quarrel else to Rome but that Thou art thence banished, we would muster all From twelve to seventy and, pouring war Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome, Like a bold flood o'erbear 't. O, come, go in, And take our friendly senators by th' hands, Who now are here, taking their leaves of me, Who am prepared against your territories, Though not for Rome itself. CORIOLANUS You bless me, gods! AUFIDIUS Therefore, most absolute sir, if thou wilt have The leading of thine own revenges, take Th' one half of my commission and set down-- As best thou art experienced, since thou know'st Thy country's strength and weakness--thine own ways, Whether to knock against the gates of Rome, Or rudely visit them in parts remote To fright them ere destroy. But come in. Let me commend thee first to those that shall Say yea to thy desires. A thousand welcomes! And more a friend than ere an enemy-- Yet, Martius, that was much. Your hand. Most welcome! [Coriolanus and Aufidius exit.] [Two of the Servingmen come forward.] FIRST SERVINGMAN Here's a strange alteration! SECOND SERVINGMAN By my hand, I had thought to have strucken him with a cudgel, and yet my mind gave me his clothes made a false report of him. FIRST SERVINGMAN What an arm he has! He turned me about with his finger and his thumb as one would set up a top. SECOND SERVINGMAN Nay, I knew by his face that there was something in him. He had, sir, a kind of face, methought--I cannot tell how to term it. FIRST SERVINGMAN He had so, looking as it were-- Would I were hanged but I thought there was more in him than I could think. SECOND SERVINGMAN So did I, I'll be sworn. He is simply the rarest man i' th' world. FIRST SERVINGMAN I think he is. But a greater soldier than he you wot one. SECOND SERVINGMAN Who, my master? FIRST SERVINGMAN Nay, it's no matter for that. SECOND SERVINGMAN Worth six on him. FIRST SERVINGMAN Nay, not so neither. But I take him to be the greater soldier. SECOND SERVINGMAN Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to say that. For the defense of a town our general is excellent. FIRST SERVINGMAN Ay, and for an assault too. [Enter the Third Servingman.] THIRD SERVINGMAN O slaves, I can tell you news, news, you rascals! BOTH What, what, what? Let's partake! THIRD SERVINGMAN I would not be a Roman, of all nations; I had as lief be a condemned man. BOTH Wherefore? Wherefore? THIRD SERVINGMAN Why, here's he that was wont to thwack our general, Caius Martius. FIRST SERVINGMAN Why do you say "thwack our general"? THIRD SERVINGMAN I do not say "thwack our general," but he was always good enough for him. SECOND SERVINGMAN Come, we are fellows and friends. He was ever too hard for him; I have heard him say so himself. FIRST SERVINGMAN He was too hard for him directly, to say the truth on 't, before Corioles; he scotched him and notched him like a carbonado. SECOND SERVINGMAN An he had been cannibally given, he might have boiled and eaten him too. FIRST SERVINGMAN But, more of thy news. THIRD SERVINGMAN Why, he is so made on here within as if he were son and heir to Mars; set at upper end o' th' table; no question asked him by any of the senators but they stand bald before him. Our general himself makes a mistress of him, sanctifies himself with 's hand, and turns up the white o' th' eye to his discourse. But the bottom of the news is, our general is cut i' th' middle and but one half of what he was yesterday, for the other has half, by the entreaty and grant of the whole table. He'll go, he says, and sowl the porter of Rome gates by th' ears. He will mow all down before him and leave his passage polled. SECOND SERVINGMAN And he's as like to do 't as any man I can imagine. THIRD SERVINGMAN Do 't? He will do 't! For, look you, sir, he has as many friends as enemies, which friends, sir, as it were, durst not, look you, sir, show themselves, as we term it, his friends whilest he's in directitude. FIRST SERVINGMAN Directitude? What's that? THIRD SERVINGMAN But when they shall see, sir, his crest up again, and the man in blood, they will out of their burrows like coneys after rain, and revel all with him. FIRST SERVINGMAN But when goes this forward? THIRD SERVINGMAN Tomorrow, today, presently. You shall have the drum struck up this afternoon. 'Tis, as it were, a parcel of their feast, and to be executed ere they wipe their lips. SECOND SERVINGMAN Why then, we shall have a stirring world again. This peace is nothing but to rust iron, increase tailors, and breed ballad-makers. FIRST SERVINGMAN Let me have war, say I. It exceeds peace as far as day does night. It's sprightly walking, audible, and full of vent. Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy; mulled, deaf, sleepy, insensible; a getter of more bastard children than war's a destroyer of men. SECOND SERVINGMAN 'Tis so, and as wars in some sort may be said to be a ravisher, so it cannot be denied but peace is a great maker of cuckolds. FIRST SERVINGMAN Ay, and it makes men hate one another. THIRD SERVINGMAN Reason: because they then less need one another. The wars for my money! I hope to see Romans as cheap as Volscians. [(Noise within.)] They are rising; they are rising. FIRST AND SECOND SERVINGMEN In, in, in, in! [They exit.] Scene 6 ======= [Enter the two Tribunes. Sicinius and Brutus.] SICINIUS We hear not of him, neither need we fear him. His remedies are tame--the present peace, And quietness of the people, which before Were in wild hurry. Here do we make his friends Blush that the world goes well, who rather had, Though they themselves did suffer by 't, behold Dissentious numbers pest'ring streets than see Our tradesmen singing in their shops and going About their functions friendly. BRUTUS We stood to 't in good time. [Enter Menenius.] Is this Menenius? SICINIUS 'Tis he, 'tis he. O, he is grown most kind Of late.--Hail, sir. MENENIUS Hail to you both. SICINIUS Your Coriolanus is not much missed But with his friends. The commonwealth doth stand, And so would do were he more angry at it. MENENIUS All's well, and might have been much better if He could have temporized. SICINIUS Where is he, hear you? MENENIUS Nay, I hear nothing; His mother and his wife hear nothing from him. [Enter three or four Citizens.] ALL CITIZENS, [to the Tribunes] The gods preserve you both! SICINIUS Good e'en, our neighbors. BRUTUS Good e'en to you all, good e'en to you all. FIRST CITIZEN Ourselves, our wives, and children, on our knees Are bound to pray for you both. SICINIUS Live, and thrive! BRUTUS Farewell, kind neighbors. We wished Coriolanus Had loved you as we did. ALL CITIZENS Now the gods keep you! BOTH TRIBUNES Farewell, farewell. [Citizens exit.] SICINIUS This is a happier and more comely time Than when these fellows ran about the streets Crying confusion. BRUTUS Caius Martius was A worthy officer i' th' war, but insolent, O'ercome with pride, ambitious, past all thinking Self-loving. SICINIUS And affecting one sole throne, without assistance. MENENIUS I think not so. SICINIUS We should by this, to all our lamentation, If he had gone forth consul, found it so. BRUTUS The gods have well prevented it, and Rome Sits safe and still without him. [Enter an Aedile.] AEDILE Worthy tribunes, There is a slave, whom we have put in prison, Reports the Volsces with two several powers Are entered in the Roman territories, And with the deepest malice of the war Destroy what lies before 'em. MENENIUS 'Tis Aufidius, Who, hearing of our Martius' banishment, Thrusts forth his horns again into the world, Which were inshelled when Martius stood for Rome, And durst not once peep out. SICINIUS Come, what talk you of Martius? BRUTUS Go see this rumorer whipped. It cannot be The Volsces dare break with us. MENENIUS Cannot be? We have record that very well it can, And three examples of the like hath been Within my age. But reason with the fellow Before you punish him, where he heard this, Lest you shall chance to whip your information And beat the messenger who bids beware Of what is to be dreaded. SICINIUS Tell not me. I know this cannot be. BRUTUS Not possible. [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER The nobles in great earnestness are going All to the Senate House. Some news is coming That turns their countenances. SICINIUS 'Tis this slave-- Go whip him 'fore the people's eyes--his raising, Nothing but his report. MESSENGER Yes, worthy sir, The slave's report is seconded, and more, More fearful, is delivered. SICINIUS What more fearful? MESSENGER It is spoke freely out of many mouths-- How probable I do not know--that Martius, Joined with Aufidius, leads a power 'gainst Rome And vows revenge as spacious as between The young'st and oldest thing. SICINIUS This is most likely! BRUTUS Raised only that the weaker sort may wish Good Martius home again. SICINIUS The very trick on 't. MENENIUS This is unlikely; He and Aufidius can no more atone Than violent'st contrariety. [Enter a Second Messenger.] SECOND MESSENGER You are sent for to the Senate. A fearful army, led by Caius Martius Associated with Aufidius, rages Upon our territories, and have already O'erborne their way, consumed with fire and took What lay before them. [Enter Cominius.] COMINIUS, [to the Tribunes] O, you have made good work! MENENIUS What news? What news? COMINIUS, [to the Tribunes] You have holp to ravish your own daughters and To melt the city leads upon your pates, To see your wives dishonored to your noses-- MENENIUS What's the news? What's the news? COMINIUS, [to the Tribunes] Your temples burned in their cement, and Your franchises, whereon you stood, confined Into an auger's bore. MENENIUS Pray now, your news?-- You have made fair work, I fear me.--Pray, your news? If Martius should be joined with Volscians-- COMINIUS If? He is their god; he leads them like a thing Made by some other deity than Nature, That shapes man better; and they follow him Against us brats with no less confidence Than boys pursuing summer butterflies Or butchers killing flies. MENENIUS, [to the Tribunes] You have made good work, You and your apron-men, you that stood so much Upon the voice of occupation and The breath of garlic eaters! COMINIUS He'll shake your Rome about your ears. MENENIUS As Hercules did shake down mellow fruit. You have made fair work. BRUTUS But is this true, sir? COMINIUS Ay, and you'll look pale Before you find it other. All the regions Do smilingly revolt, and who resists Are mocked for valiant ignorance And perish constant fools. Who is 't can blame him? Your enemies and his find something in him. MENENIUS We are all undone, unless The noble man have mercy. COMINIUS Who shall ask it? The Tribunes cannot do 't for shame; the people Deserve such pity of him as the wolf Does of the shepherds. For his best friends, if they Should say "Be good to Rome," they charged him even As those should do that had deserved his hate And therein showed like enemies. MENENIUS 'Tis true. If he were putting to my house the brand That should consume it, I have not the face To say "Beseech you, cease."--You have made fair hands, You and your crafts! You have crafted fair! COMINIUS You have brought A trembling upon Rome such as was never S' incapable of help. TRIBUNES Say not we brought it. MENENIUS How? Was 't we? We loved him, but like beasts And cowardly nobles, gave way unto your clusters, Who did hoot him out o' th' city. COMINIUS But I fear They'll roar him in again. Tullus Aufidius, The second name of men, obeys his points As if he were his officer. Desperation Is all the policy, strength, and defense That Rome can make against them. [Enter a troop of Citizens.] MENENIUS Here come the clusters.-- And is Aufidius with him? You are they That made the air unwholesome when you cast Your stinking, greasy caps in hooting at Coriolanus' exile. Now he's coming, And not a hair upon a soldier's head Which will not prove a whip. As many coxcombs As you threw caps up will he tumble down And pay you for your voices. 'Tis no matter. If he could burn us all into one coal, We have deserved it. ALL CITIZENS Faith, we hear fearful news. FIRST CITIZEN For mine own part, When I said banish him, I said 'twas pity. SECOND CITIZEN And so did I. THIRD CITIZEN And so did I. And, to say the truth, so did very many of us. That we did we did for the best; and though we willingly consented to his banishment, yet it was against our will. COMINIUS You're goodly things, you voices! MENENIUS You have made good work, you and your cry!-- Shall 's to the Capitol? COMINIUS O, ay, what else? [Both exit.] SICINIUS Go, masters, get you home. Be not dismayed. These are a side that would be glad to have This true which they so seem to fear. Go home, And show no sign of fear. FIRST CITIZEN The gods be good to us! Come, masters, let's home. I ever said we were i' th' wrong when we banished him. SECOND CITIZEN So did we all. But, come, let's home. [Citizens exit.] BRUTUS I do not like this news. SICINIUS Nor I. BRUTUS Let's to the Capitol. Would half my wealth Would buy this for a lie. SICINIUS Pray, let's go. [Tribunes exit.] Scene 7 ======= [Enter Aufidius with his Lieutenant.] AUFIDIUS Do they still fly to th' Roman? LIEUTENANT I do not know what witchcraft's in him, but Your soldiers use him as the grace 'fore meat, Their talk at table, and their thanks at end; And you are dark'ned in this action, sir, Even by your own. AUFIDIUS I cannot help it now, Unless by using means I lame the foot Of our design. He bears himself more proudlier, Even to my person, than I thought he would When first I did embrace him. Yet his nature In that's no changeling, and I must excuse What cannot be amended. LIEUTENANT Yet I wish, sir-- I mean for your particular--you had not Joined in commission with him, but either Have borne the action of yourself or else To him had left it solely. AUFIDIUS I understand thee well, and be thou sure, When he shall come to his account, he knows not What I can urge against him, although it seems, And so he thinks and is no less apparent To th' vulgar eye, that he bears all things fairly, And shows good husbandry for the Volscian state, Fights dragonlike, and does achieve as soon As draw his sword; yet he hath left undone That which shall break his neck or hazard mine Whene'er we come to our account. LIEUTENANT Sir, I beseech you, think you he'll carry Rome? AUFIDIUS All places yields to him ere he sits down, And the nobility of Rome are his; The Senators and Patricians love him too. The Tribunes are no soldiers, and their people Will be as rash in the repeal as hasty To expel him thence. I think he'll be to Rome As is the osprey to the fish, who takes it By sovereignty of nature. First, he was A noble servant to them, but he could not Carry his honors even. Whether 'twas pride, Which out of daily fortune ever taints The happy man; whether defect of judgment, To fail in the disposing of those chances Which he was lord of; or whether nature, Not to be other than one thing, not moving From th' casque to th' cushion, but commanding peace Even with the same austerity and garb As he controlled the war; but one of these-- As he hath spices of them all--not all, For I dare so far free him--made him feared, So hated, and so banished. But he has a merit To choke it in the utt'rance. So our virtues Lie in th' interpretation of the time, And power, unto itself most commendable, Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair T' extol what it hath done. One fire drives out one fire, one nail one nail; Rights by rights falter; strengths by strengths do fail. Come, let's away. When, Caius, Rome is thine, Thou art poor'st of all; then shortly art thou mine. [They exit.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Menenius, Cominius, Sicinius, Brutus (the two Tribunes), with others.] MENENIUS No, I'll not go. You hear what he hath said Which was sometime his general, who loved him In a most dear particular. He called me father, But what o' that? Go you that banished him; A mile before his tent, fall down, and knee The way into his mercy. Nay, if he coyed To hear Cominius speak, I'll keep at home. COMINIUS He would not seem to know me. MENENIUS Do you hear? COMINIUS Yet one time he did call me by my name. I urged our old acquaintance, and the drops That we have bled together. "Coriolanus" He would not answer to, forbade all names. He was a kind of nothing, titleless, Till he had forged himself a name o' th' fire Of burning Rome. MENENIUS, [to the Tribunes] Why, so; you have made good work! A pair of tribunes that have wracked Rome To make coals cheap! A noble memory! COMINIUS I minded him how royal 'twas to pardon When it was less expected. He replied It was a bare petition of a state To one whom they had punished. MENENIUS Very well. Could he say less? COMINIUS I offered to awaken his regard For 's private friends. His answer to me was He could not stay to pick them in a pile Of noisome musty chaff. He said 'twas folly For one poor grain or two to leave unburnt And still to nose th' offense. MENENIUS For one poor grain or two! I am one of those! His mother, wife, his child, And this brave fellow too, we are the grains; You are the musty chaff, and you are smelt Above the moon. We must be burnt for you. SICINIUS Nay, pray, be patient. If you refuse your aid In this so-never-needed help, yet do not Upbraid 's with our distress. But sure, if you Would be your country's pleader, your good tongue, More than the instant army we can make, Might stop our countryman. MENENIUS No, I'll not meddle. SICINIUS Pray you, go to him. MENENIUS What should I do? BRUTUS Only make trial what your love can do For Rome, towards Martius. MENENIUS Well, and say that Martius Return me, as Cominius is returned, unheard, What then? But as a discontented friend, Grief-shot with his unkindness? Say 't be so? SICINIUS Yet your good will Must have that thanks from Rome after the measure As you intended well. MENENIUS I'll undertake 't. I think he'll hear me. Yet to bite his lip And hum at good Cominius much unhearts me. He was not taken well; he had not dined. The veins unfilled, our blood is cold, and then We pout upon the morning, are unapt To give or to forgive; but when we have stuffed These pipes and these conveyances of our blood With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls Than in our priestlike fasts. Therefore I'll watch him Till he be dieted to my request, And then I'll set upon him. BRUTUS You know the very road into his kindness And cannot lose your way. MENENIUS Good faith, I'll prove him, Speed how it will. I shall ere long have knowledge Of my success. [He exits.] COMINIUS He'll never hear him. SICINIUS Not? COMINIUS I tell you, he does sit in gold, his eye Red as 'twould burn Rome; and his injury The jailor to his pity. I kneeled before him; 'Twas very faintly he said "Rise"; dismissed me Thus with his speechless hand. What he would do He sent in writing after me; what he Would not, bound with an oath to yield to his Conditions. So that all hope is vain Unless his noble mother and his wife, Who, as I hear, mean to solicit him For mercy to his country. Therefore let's hence And with our fair entreaties haste them on. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Menenius to the Watch, or Guard.] FIRST WATCH Stay! Whence are you? SECOND WATCH Stand, and go back. MENENIUS You guard like men; 'tis well. But by your leave, I am an officer of state and come To speak with Coriolanus. FIRST WATCH From whence? MENENIUS From Rome. FIRST WATCH You may not pass; you must return. Our general Will no more hear from thence. SECOND WATCH You'll see your Rome embraced with fire before You'll speak with Coriolanus. MENENIUS Good my friends, If you have heard your general talk of Rome And of his friends there, it is lots to blanks My name hath touched your ears. It is Menenius. FIRST WATCH Be it so; go back. The virtue of your name Is not here passable. MENENIUS I tell thee, fellow, Thy general is my lover. I have been The book of his good acts, whence men have read His fame unparalleled happily amplified; For I have ever verified my friends-- Of whom he's chief--with all the size that verity Would without lapsing suffer. Nay, sometimes, Like to a bowl upon a subtle ground, I have tumbled past the throw, and in his praise Have almost stamped the leasing. Therefore, fellow, I must have leave to pass. FIRST WATCH Faith, sir, if you had told as many lies in his behalf as you have uttered words in your own, you should not pass here, no, though it were as virtuous to lie as to live chastely. Therefore, go back. MENENIUS Prithee, fellow, remember my name is Menenius, always factionary on the party of your general. SECOND WATCH Howsoever you have been his liar, as you say you have, I am one that, telling true under him, must say you cannot pass. Therefore, go back. MENENIUS Has he dined, can'st thou tell? For I would not speak with him till after dinner. FIRST WATCH You are a Roman, are you? MENENIUS I am, as thy general is. FIRST WATCH Then you should hate Rome as he does. Can you, when you have pushed out your gates the very defender of them, and, in a violent popular ignorance given your enemy your shield, think to front his revenges with the easy groans of old women, the virginal palms of your daughters, or with the palsied intercession of such a decayed dotant as you seem to be? Can you think to blow out the intended fire your city is ready to flame in with such weak breath as this? No, you are deceived. Therefore, back to Rome and prepare for your execution. You are condemned. Our general has sworn you out of reprieve and pardon. MENENIUS Sirrah, if thy captain knew I were here, he would use me with estimation. FIRST WATCH Come, my captain knows you not. MENENIUS I mean thy general. FIRST WATCH My general cares not for you. Back, I say, go, lest I let forth your half pint of blood. Back! That's the utmost of your having. Back! MENENIUS Nay, but fellow, fellow-- [Enter Coriolanus with Aufidius.] CORIOLANUS What's the matter? MENENIUS [to First Watch] Now, you companion, I'll say an errand for you. You shall know now that I am in estimation; you shall perceive that a Jack guardant cannot office me from my son Coriolanus. Guess but by my entertainment with him if thou stand'st not i' th' state of hanging or of some death more long in spectatorship and crueler in suffering; behold now presently, and swoon for what's to come upon thee. [(To Coriolanus.)] The glorious gods sit in hourly synod about thy particular prosperity and love thee no worse than thy old father Menenius does! O my son, my son! [(He weeps.)] Thou art preparing fire for us; look thee, here's water to quench it. I was hardly moved to come to thee; but being assured none but myself could move thee, I have been blown out of your gates with sighs, and conjure thee to pardon Rome and thy petitionary countrymen. The good gods assuage thy wrath and turn the dregs of it upon this varlet here, this, who, like a block, hath denied my access to thee. CORIOLANUS Away! MENENIUS How? Away? CORIOLANUS Wife, mother, child, I know not. My affairs Are servanted to others. Though I owe My revenge properly, my remission lies In Volscian breasts. That we have been familiar, Ingrate forgetfulness shall poison rather Than pity note how much. Therefore, begone. Mine ears against your suits are stronger than Your gates against my force. Yet, for I loved thee, Take this along; I writ it for thy sake, [He gives Menenius a paper.] And would have sent it. Another word, Menenius, I will not hear thee speak.--This man, Aufidius, Was my beloved in Rome; yet thou behold'st. AUFIDIUS You keep a constant temper. [They exit.] [The Guard and Menenius remain.] FIRST WATCH Now, sir, is your name Menenius? SECOND WATCH 'Tis a spell, you see, of much power. You know the way home again. FIRST WATCH Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your Greatness back? SECOND WATCH What cause do you think I have to swoon? MENENIUS I neither care for th' world nor your general. For such things as you, I can scarce think there's any, you're so slight. He that hath a will to die by himself fears it not from another. Let your general do his worst. For you, be that you are, long; and your misery increase with your age! I say to you, as I was said to, away! [He exits.] FIRST WATCH A noble fellow, I warrant him. SECOND WATCH The worthy fellow is our general. He's the rock, the oak not to be wind-shaken. [Watch exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Coriolanus and Aufidius.] CORIOLANUS We will before the walls of Rome tomorrow Set down our host. My partner in this action, You must report to th' Volscian lords how plainly I have borne this business. AUFIDIUS Only their ends You have respected, stopped your ears against The general suit of Rome, never admitted A private whisper, no, not with such friends That thought them sure of you. CORIOLANUS This last old man, Whom with a cracked heart I have sent to Rome, Loved me above the measure of a father, Nay, godded me indeed. Their latest refuge Was to send him, for whose old love I have-- Though I showed sourly to him--once more offered The first conditions, which they did refuse And cannot now accept, to grace him only That thought he could do more. A very little I have yielded to. Fresh embassies and suits, Nor from the state nor private friends, hereafter Will I lend ear to. [Shout within.] Ha? What shout is this? Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow In the same time 'tis made? I will not. [Enter Virgilia, Volumnia, Valeria, young Martius, with Attendants.] My wife comes foremost, then the honored mold Wherein this trunk was framed, and in her hand The grandchild to her blood. But out, affection! All bond and privilege of nature, break! Let it be virtuous to be obstinate. [Virgilia curtsies.] What is that curtsy worth? Or those doves' eyes, Which can make gods forsworn? I melt and am not Of stronger earth than others. [Volumnia bows.] My mother bows, As if Olympus to a molehill should In supplication nod; and my young boy Hath an aspect of intercession which Great Nature cries "Deny not!" Let the Volsces Plow Rome and harrow Italy, I'll never Be such a gosling to obey instinct, but stand As if a man were author of himself, And knew no other kin. VIRGILIA My lord and husband. CORIOLANUS These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome. VIRGILIA The sorrow that delivers us thus changed Makes you think so. CORIOLANUS Like a dull actor now, I have forgot my part, and I am out, Even to a full disgrace. Best of my flesh, Forgive my tyranny, but do not say For that "Forgive our Romans." [They kiss.] O, a kiss Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge! Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss I carried from thee, dear, and my true lip Hath virgined it e'er since. You gods! I prate And the most noble mother of the world Leave unsaluted. Sink, my knee, i' th' earth; [Kneels.] Of thy deep duty more impression show Than that of common sons. VOLUMNIA O, stand up blest, [He rises.] Whilst with no softer cushion than the flint I kneel before thee and unproperly Show duty, as mistaken all this while Between the child and parent. [She kneels.] CORIOLANUS What's this? Your knees to me? To your corrected son? [He raises her up.] Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach Fillip the stars! Then let the mutinous winds Strike the proud cedars 'gainst the fiery sun, Murdering impossibility to make What cannot be slight work. VOLUMNIA Thou art my warrior; I holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady? CORIOLANUS The noble sister of Publicola, The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle That's curdied by the frost from purest snow And hangs on Dian's temple!--Dear Valeria. VOLUMNIA, [presenting young Martius] This is a poor epitome of yours, Which by th' interpretation of full time May show like all yourself. CORIOLANUS, [to young Martius] The god of soldiers, With the consent of supreme Jove, inform Thy thoughts with nobleness, that thou mayst prove To shame unvulnerable, and stick i' th' wars Like a great seamark standing every flaw And saving those that eye thee. VOLUMNIA, [to young Martius] Your knee, sirrah. [He kneels.] CORIOLANUS That's my brave boy! VOLUMNIA Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself Are suitors to you. [Young Martius rises.] CORIOLANUS I beseech you, peace; Or if you'd ask, remember this before: The thing I have forsworn to grant may never Be held by you denials. Do not bid me Dismiss my soldiers or capitulate Again with Rome's mechanics. Tell me not Wherein I seem unnatural; desire not T' allay my rages and revenges with Your colder reasons. VOLUMNIA O, no more, no more! You have said you will not grant us anything; For we have nothing else to ask but that Which you deny already. Yet we will ask, That if you fail in our request, the blame May hang upon your hardness. Therefore hear us. CORIOLANUS Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark, for we'll Hear naught from Rome in private. [He sits.] Your request? VOLUMNIA Should we be silent and not speak, our raiment And state of bodies would bewray what life We have led since thy exile. Think with thyself How more unfortunate than all living women Are we come hither; since that thy sight, which should Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with comforts, Constrains them weep and shake with fear and sorrow, Making the mother, wife, and child to see The son, the husband, and the father tearing His country's bowels out. And to poor we Thine enmity's most capital. Thou barr'st us Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort That all but we enjoy. For how can we-- Alas, how can we--for our country pray, Whereto we are bound, together with thy victory, Whereto we are bound? Alack, or we must lose The country, our dear nurse, or else thy person, Our comfort in the country. We must find An evident calamity, though we had Our wish, which side should win, for either thou Must as a foreign recreant be led With manacles through our streets, or else Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin And bear the palm for having bravely shed Thy wife and children's blood. For myself, son, I purpose not to wait on fortune till These wars determine. If I cannot persuade thee Rather to show a noble grace to both parts Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner March to assault thy country than to tread-- Trust to 't, thou shalt not--on thy mother's womb That brought thee to this world. VIRGILIA Ay, and mine, That brought you forth this boy to keep your name Living to time. YOUNG MARTIUS He shall not tread on me. I'll run away till I am bigger, but then I'll fight. CORIOLANUS Not of a woman's tenderness to be Requires nor child nor woman's face to see.-- I have sat too long. [He rises.] VOLUMNIA Nay, go not from us thus. If it were so, that our request did tend To save the Romans, thereby to destroy The Volsces whom you serve, you might condemn us As poisonous of your honor. No, our suit Is that you reconcile them, while the Volsces May say "This mercy we have showed," the Romans "This we received," and each in either side Give the all-hail to thee and cry "Be blest For making up this peace!" Thou know'st, great son, The end of war's uncertain, but this certain, That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit Which thou shalt thereby reap is such a name Whose repetition will be dogged with curses, Whose chronicle thus writ: "The man was noble, But with his last attempt he wiped it out, Destroyed his country, and his name remains To th' ensuing age abhorred." Speak to me, son. Thou hast affected the fine strains of honor To imitate the graces of the gods, To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o' th' air And yet to charge thy sulfur with a bolt That should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak? Think'st thou it honorable for a noble man Still to remember wrongs?--Daughter, speak you. He cares not for your weeping.--Speak thou, boy. Perhaps thy childishness will move him more Than can our reasons.--There's no man in the world More bound to 's mother, yet here he lets me prate Like one i' th' stocks. Thou hast never in thy life Showed thy dear mother any courtesy When she, poor hen, fond of no second brood, Has clucked thee to the wars and safely home, Loaden with honor. Say my request's unjust And spurn me back; but if it be not so, Thou art not honest, and the gods will plague thee That thou restrain'st from me the duty which To a mother's part belongs.--He turns away.-- Down, ladies! Let us shame him with our knees. To his surname Coriolanus 'longs more pride Than pity to our prayers. Down! An end. [They kneel.] This is the last. So, we will home to Rome And die among our neighbors.--Nay, behold 's. This boy that cannot tell what he would have, But kneels and holds up hands for fellowship, Does reason our petition with more strength Than thou hast to deny 't.--Come, let us go. [They rise.] This fellow had a Volscian to his mother, His wife is in Corioles, and his child Like him by chance.--Yet give us our dispatch. I am hushed until our city be afire, And then I'll speak a little. [He holds her by the hand, silent.] CORIOLANUS O mother, mother! What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope, The gods look down, and this unnatural scene They laugh at. O, my mother, mother, O! You have won a happy victory to Rome, But, for your son--believe it, O, believe it!-- Most dangerously you have with him prevailed, If not most mortal to him. But let it come.-- Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars, I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius, Were you in my stead, would you have heard A mother less? Or granted less, Aufidius? AUFIDIUS I was moved withal. CORIOLANUS I dare be sworn you were. And, sir, it is no little thing to make Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But, good sir, What peace you'll make advise me. For my part, I'll not to Rome. I'll back with you; and pray you, Stand to me in this cause.--O mother!--Wife! [He speaks with them aside.] AUFIDIUS, [aside] I am glad thou hast set thy mercy and thy honor At difference in thee. Out of that I'll work Myself a former fortune. CORIOLANUS, [to the Women] Ay, by and by; But we will drink together, and you shall bear A better witness back than words, which we, On like conditions, will have countersealed. Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserve To have a temple built you. All the swords In Italy, and her confederate arms, Could not have made this peace. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Menenius and Sicinius.] MENENIUS See you yond coign o' th' Capitol, yond cornerstone? SICINIUS Why, what of that? MENENIUS If it be possible for you to displace it with your little finger, there is some hope the ladies of Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him. But I say there is no hope in 't. Our throats are sentenced and stay upon execution. SICINIUS Is 't possible that so short a time can alter the condition of a man? MENENIUS There is differency between a grub and a butterfly, yet your butterfly was a grub. This Martius is grown from man to dragon. He has wings; he's more than a creeping thing. SICINIUS He loved his mother dearly. MENENIUS So did he me; and he no more remembers his mother now than an eight-year-old horse. The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes. When he walks, he moves like an engine, and the ground shrinks before his treading. He is able to pierce a corslet with his eye, talks like a knell, and his hum is a battery. He sits in his state as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids be done is finished with his bidding. He wants nothing of a god but eternity and a heaven to throne in. SICINIUS Yes, mercy, if you report him truly. MENENIUS I paint him in the character. Mark what mercy his mother shall bring from him. There is no more mercy in him than there is milk in a male tiger. That shall our poor city find, and all this is long of you. SICINIUS The gods be good unto us. MENENIUS No, in such a case the gods will not be good unto us. When we banished him, we respected not them; and he returning to break our necks, they respect not us. [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER, [to Sicinius] Sir, if you'd save your life, fly to your house. The plebeians have got your fellow tribune And hale him up and down, all swearing if The Roman ladies bring not comfort home, They'll give him death by inches. [Enter another Messenger.] SICINIUS What's the news? SECOND MESSENGER Good news, good news! The ladies have prevailed. The Volscians are dislodged and Martius gone. A merrier day did never yet greet Rome, No, not th' expulsion of the Tarquins. SICINIUS Friend, Art thou certain this is true? Is 't most certain? SECOND MESSENGER As certain as I know the sun is fire. Where have you lurked that you make doubt of it? Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown tide As the recomforted through th' gates. Why, hark you! [Trumpets, hautboys, drums beat, all together.] The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and fifes, Tabors and cymbals, and the shouting Romans Make the sun dance. Hark you! [A shout within.] MENENIUS This is good news. I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians A city full; of tribunes such as you A sea and land full. You have prayed well today. This morning for ten thousand of your throats I'd not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy! [Sound still with the shouts.] SICINIUS, [to Second Messenger] First, the gods bless you for your tidings; next, accept my thankfulness. SECOND MESSENGER Sir, we have all great cause to give great thanks. SICINIUS They are near the city? SECOND MESSENGER Almost at point to enter. SICINIUS We'll meet them, and help the joy. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter two Senators, with Ladies (Volumnia, Virgilia, Valeria) passing over the stage, with other Lords.] SENATOR Behold our patroness, the life of Rome! Call all your tribes together, praise the gods, And make triumphant fires. Strew flowers before them, Unshout the noise that banished Martius, Repeal him with the welcome of his mother. Cry "Welcome, ladies, welcome!" ALL Welcome, ladies, welcome! [A flourish with drums and trumpets.] [They exit.] Scene 6 ======= [Enter Tullus Aufidius, with Attendants.] AUFIDIUS Go tell the lords o' th' city I am here. Deliver them this paper. [(He gives them a paper.)] Having read it, Bid them repair to th' marketplace, where I, Even in theirs and in the commons' ears, Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse The city ports by this hath entered and Intends t' appear before the people, hoping To purge himself with words. Dispatch. [The Attendants exit.] [Enter three or four Conspirators of Aufidius's faction.] Most welcome! FIRST CONSPIRATOR How is it with our general? AUFIDIUS Even so As with a man by his own alms empoisoned And with his charity slain. SECOND CONSPIRATOR Most noble sir, If you do hold the same intent wherein You wished us parties, we'll deliver you Of your great danger. AUFIDIUS Sir, I cannot tell. We must proceed as we do find the people. THIRD CONSPIRATOR The people will remain uncertain whilst 'Twixt you there's difference, but the fall of either Makes the survivor heir of all. AUFIDIUS I know it, And my pretext to strike at him admits A good construction. I raised him, and I pawned Mine honor for his truth, who, being so heightened, He watered his new plants with dews of flattery, Seducing so my friends; and to this end, He bowed his nature, never known before But to be rough, unswayable, and free. THIRD CONSPIRATOR Sir, his stoutness When he did stand for consul, which he lost By lack of stooping-- AUFIDIUS That I would have spoke of. Being banished for 't, he came unto my hearth, Presented to my knife his throat. I took him, Made him joint servant with me, gave him way In all his own desires; nay, let him choose Out of my files, his projects to accomplish, My best and freshest men; served his designments In mine own person; holp to reap the fame Which he did end all his; and took some pride To do myself this wrong; till at the last I seemed his follower, not partner; and He waged me with his countenance as if I had been mercenary. FIRST CONSPIRATOR So he did, my lord. The army marvelled at it, and, in the last, When he had carried Rome and that we looked For no less spoil than glory-- AUFIDIUS There was it For which my sinews shall be stretched upon him. At a few drops of women's rheum, which are As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labor Of our great action. Therefore shall he die, And I'll renew me in his fall. But hark! [Drums and trumpets sounds, with great shouts of the people.] FIRST CONSPIRATOR Your native town you entered like a post And had no welcomes home, but he returns Splitting the air with noise. SECOND CONSPIRATOR And patient fools, Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear With giving him glory. THIRD CONSPIRATOR Therefore at your vantage, Ere he express himself or move the people With what he would say, let him feel your sword, Which we will second. When he lies along, After your way his tale pronounced shall bury His reasons with his body. AUFIDIUS Say no more. [Enter the Lords of the city.] Here come the lords. ALL LORDS You are most welcome home. AUFIDIUS I have not deserved it. But, worthy lords, have you with heed perused What I have written to you? ALL LORDS We have. FIRST LORD And grieve to hear 't. What faults he made before the last, I think Might have found easy fines, but there to end Where he was to begin and give away The benefit of our levies, answering us With our own charge, making a treaty where There was a yielding--this admits no excuse. [Enter Coriolanus marching with Drum and Colors, the Commoners being with him.] AUFIDIUS He approaches. You shall hear him. CORIOLANUS Hail, lords! I am returned your soldier, No more infected with my country's love Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting Under your great command. You are to know That prosperously I have attempted, and With bloody passage led your wars even to The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought home Doth more than counterpoise a full third part The charges of the action. We have made peace With no less honor to the Antiates Than shame to th' Romans, and we here deliver, Subscribed by' th' Consuls and patricians, Together with the seal o' th' Senate, what We have compounded on. [He offers the lords a paper.] AUFIDIUS Read it not, noble lords, But tell the traitor in the highest degree He hath abused your powers. CORIOLANUS "Traitor"? How now? AUFIDIUS Ay, traitor, Martius. CORIOLANUS Martius? AUFIDIUS Ay, Martius, Caius Martius. Dost thou think I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name Coriolanus, in Corioles? You lords and heads o' th' state, perfidiously He has betrayed your business and given up For certain drops of salt your city Rome-- I say your city--to his wife and mother, Breaking his oath and resolution like A twist of rotten silk, never admitting Counsel o' th' war, but at his nurse's tears He whined and roared away your victory, That pages blushed at him and men of heart Looked wond'ring each at other. CORIOLANUS Hear'st thou, Mars? AUFIDIUS Name not the god, thou boy of tears. CORIOLANUS Ha? AUFIDIUS No more. CORIOLANUS Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart Too great for what contains it. "Boy"? O slave!-- Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever I was forced to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords, Must give this cur the lie; and his own notion-- Who wears my stripes impressed upon him, that Must bear my beating to his grave--shall join To thrust the lie unto him. FIRST LORD Peace, both, and hear me speak. CORIOLANUS Cut me to pieces, Volsces. Men and lads, Stain all your edges on me. "Boy"? False hound! If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there That like an eagle in a dovecote, I Fluttered your Volscians in Corioles, Alone I did it. "Boy"! AUFIDIUS Why, noble lords, Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart, 'Fore your own eyes and ears? ALL CONSPIRATORS Let him die for 't. ALL PEOPLE Tear him to pieces! Do it presently! He killed my son! My daughter! He killed my cousin Marcus! He killed my father! SECOND LORD Peace, ho! No outrage! Peace! The man is noble, and his fame folds in This orb o' th' Earth. His last offenses to us Shall have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius, And trouble not the peace. CORIOLANUS, [drawing his sword] O, that I had him, With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe, To use my lawful sword. AUFIDIUS Insolent villain! ALL CONSPIRATORS Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him! [Draw the Conspirators, and kills Martius, who falls. Aufidius stands on him.] LORDS Hold, hold, hold, hold! AUFIDIUS My noble masters, hear me speak. FIRST LORD O Tullus! SECOND LORD Thou hast done a deed whereat valor will weep. THIRD LORD Tread not upon him.--Masters, all be quiet.-- Put up your swords. AUFIDIUS My lords, when you shall know--as in this rage, Provoked by him, you cannot--the great danger Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice That he is thus cut off. Please it your Honors To call me to your senate, I'll deliver Myself your loyal servant or endure Your heaviest censure. FIRST LORD Bear from hence his body, And mourn you for him. Let him be regarded As the most noble corse that ever herald Did follow to his urn. SECOND LORD His own impatience Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame. Let's make the best of it. AUFIDIUS My rage is gone, And I am struck with sorrow.--Take him up. Help, three o' th' chiefest soldiers; I'll be one.-- Beat thou the drum that it speak mournfully.-- Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he Hath widowed and unchilded many a one, Which to this hour bewail the injury, Yet he shall have a noble memory. Assist. [They exit bearing the body of Martius. A dead march sounded.]

Cymbeline by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== CYMBELINE, King of Britain Cymbeline's QUEEN IMOGEN, daughter to Cymbeline by his former queen POSTHUMUS LEONATUS, husband to Imogen CLOTEN, son to the present queen by a former husband PISANIO, Posthumus's servant CORNELIUS, a physician in Cymbeline's court PHILARIO, Posthumus's host in Rome IACHIMO, friend to Philario A FRENCHMAN, friend to Philario CAIUS LUCIUS, a Roman general BELARIUS, an exiled nobleman Sons to Cymbeline by his former queen: GUIDERIUS ARVIRAGUS Two LORDS attending Cloten Two GENTLEMEN of Cymbeline's court A LADY, Imogen's attendant A LADY, the Queen's attendant A Briton LORD Two Briton CAPTAINS Two JAILERS Two MESSENGERS Two Roman SENATORS TRIBUNES Roman CAPTAINS A SOOTHSAYER JUPITER The Ghost of SICILIUS LEONATUS, Posthumus's father The Ghost of Posthumus's MOTHER The Ghosts of Posthumus's two BROTHERS Lords, Ladies, Attendants, Musicians, a Dutchman, a Spaniard, Senators, Tribunes, Captains, and Soldiers ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter two Gentlemen.] FIRST GENTLEMAN You do not meet a man but frowns. Our bloods No more obey the heavens than our courtiers' Still seem as does the King's. SECOND GENTLEMAN But what's the matter? FIRST GENTLEMAN His daughter, and the heir of 's kingdom, whom He purposed to his wife's sole son--a widow That late he married--hath referred herself Unto a poor but worthy gentleman. She's wedded, Her husband banished, she imprisoned. All Is outward sorrow, though I think the King Be touched at very heart. SECOND GENTLEMAN None but the King? FIRST GENTLEMAN He that hath lost her, too. So is the Queen, That most desired the match. But not a courtier, Although they wear their faces to the bent Of the King's looks, hath a heart that is not Glad at the thing they scowl at. SECOND GENTLEMAN And why so? FIRST GENTLEMAN He that hath missed the Princess is a thing Too bad for bad report, and he that hath her-- I mean, that married her, alack, good man! And therefore banished--is a creature such As, to seek through the regions of the Earth For one his like, there would be something failing In him that should compare. I do not think So fair an outward and such stuff within Endows a man but he. SECOND GENTLEMAN You speak him far. FIRST GENTLEMAN I do extend him, sir, within himself, Crush him together rather than unfold His measure duly. SECOND GENTLEMAN What's his name and birth? FIRST GENTLEMAN I cannot delve him to the root. His father Was called Sicilius, who did join his honor Against the Romans with Cassibelan, But had his titles by Tenantius, whom He served with glory and admired success, So gained the sur-addition Leonatus; And had, besides this gentleman in question, Two other sons, who in the wars o' th' time Died with their swords in hand. For which their father, Then old and fond of issue, took such sorrow That he quit being; and his gentle lady, Big of this gentleman our theme, deceased As he was born. The King he takes the babe To his protection, calls him Posthumus Leonatus, Breeds him and makes him of his bedchamber, Puts to him all the learnings that his time Could make him the receiver of, which he took As we do air, fast as 'twas ministered, And in 's spring became a harvest; lived in court-- Which rare it is to do--most praised, most loved, A sample to the youngest, to th' more mature A glass that feated them, and to the graver A child that guided dotards. To his mistress, For whom he now is banished, her own price Proclaims how she esteemed him; and his virtue By her election may be truly read What kind of man he is. SECOND GENTLEMAN I honor him Even out of your report. But pray you tell me, Is she sole child to th' King? FIRST GENTLEMAN His only child. He had two sons--if this be worth your hearing, Mark it--the eldest of them at three years old, I' th' swathing clothes the other, from their nursery Were stol'n, and to this hour no guess in knowledge Which way they went. SECOND GENTLEMAN How long is this ago? FIRST GENTLEMAN Some twenty years. SECOND GENTLEMAN That a king's children should be so conveyed, So slackly guarded, and the search so slow That could not trace them! FIRST GENTLEMAN Howsoe'er 'tis strange, Or that the negligence may well be laughed at, Yet is it true, sir. SECOND GENTLEMAN I do well believe you. FIRST GENTLEMAN We must forbear. Here comes the gentleman, The Queen and Princess. [They exit.] [Enter the Queen, Posthumus, and Imogen.] QUEEN No, be assured you shall not find me, daughter, After the slander of most stepmothers, Evil-eyed unto you. You're my prisoner, but Your jailer shall deliver you the keys That lock up your restraint.--For you, Posthumus, So soon as I can win th' offended king, I will be known your advocate. Marry, yet The fire of rage is in him, and 'twere good You leaned unto his sentence with what patience Your wisdom may inform you. POSTHUMUS Please your Highness, I will from hence today. QUEEN You know the peril. I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying The pangs of barred affections, though the King Hath charged you should not speak together. [She exits.] IMOGEN O, Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband, I something fear my father's wrath, but nothing-- Always reserved my holy duty--what His rage can do on me. You must be gone, And I shall here abide the hourly shot Of angry eyes, not comforted to live But that there is this jewel in the world That I may see again. [She weeps.] POSTHUMUS My queen, my mistress! O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause To be suspected of more tenderness Than doth become a man. I will remain The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth. My residence in Rome at one Philario's, Who to my father was a friend, to me Known but by letter; thither write, my queen, And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send, Though ink be made of gall. [Enter Queen.] QUEEN Be brief, I pray you. If the King come, I shall incur I know not How much of his displeasure. [(Aside.)] Yet I'll move him To walk this way. I never do him wrong But he does buy my injuries, to be friends, Pays dear for my offenses. [She exits.] POSTHUMUS Should we be taking leave As long a term as yet we have to live, The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu. IMOGEN Nay, stay a little! Were you but riding forth to air yourself, Such parting were too petty. Look here, love: This diamond was my mother's. [(She offers a ring.)] Take it, heart, But keep it till you woo another wife When Imogen is dead. POSTHUMUS How, how? Another? You gentle gods, give me but this I have, And cere up my embracements from a next With bonds of death. [(He puts the ring on his finger.)] Remain, remain thou here, While sense can keep it on.--And sweetest, fairest, As I my poor self did exchange for you To your so infinite loss, so in our trifles I still win of you. For my sake, wear this. [He offers a bracelet.] It is a manacle of love. I'll place it Upon this fairest prisoner. [He puts it on her wrist.] IMOGEN O the gods! When shall we see again? [Enter Cymbeline and Lords.] POSTHUMUS Alack, the King. CYMBELINE Thou basest thing, avoid hence, from my sight! If after this command thou fraught the court With thy unworthiness, thou diest. Away! Thou 'rt poison to my blood. POSTHUMUS The gods protect you, And bless the good remainders of the court. I am gone. [He exits.] IMOGEN There cannot be a pinch in death More sharp than this is. CYMBELINE O disloyal thing That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap'st A year's age on me. IMOGEN I beseech you, sir, Harm not yourself with your vexation. I am senseless of your wrath. A touch more rare Subdues all pangs, all fears. CYMBELINE Past grace? Obedience? IMOGEN Past hope and in despair; that way past grace. CYMBELINE That mightst have had the sole son of my queen! IMOGEN O, blessed that I might not! I chose an eagle And did avoid a puttock. CYMBELINE Thou took'st a beggar, wouldst have made my throne A seat for baseness. IMOGEN No, I rather added A luster to it. CYMBELINE O thou vile one! IMOGEN Sir, It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus. You bred him as my playfellow, and he is A man worth any woman, overbuys me Almost the sum he pays. CYMBELINE What, art thou mad? IMOGEN Almost, sir. Heaven restore me! Would I were A neatherd's daughter, and my Leonatus Our neighbor shepherd's son. [She weeps.] CYMBELINE Thou foolish thing! [Enter Queen.] They were again together. You have done Not after our command. Away with her And pen her up. QUEEN Beseech your patience.--Peace, Dear lady daughter, peace.--Sweet sovereign, Leave us to ourselves, and make yourself some comfort Out of your best advice. CYMBELINE Nay, let her languish A drop of blood a day, and being aged Die of this folly. [He exits, with Lords.] QUEEN Fie, you must give way. [Enter Pisanio.] Here is your servant.--How now, sir? What news? PISANIO My lord your son drew on my master. QUEEN Ha? No harm, I trust, is done? PISANIO There might have been, But that my master rather played than fought And had no help of anger. They were parted By gentlemen at hand. QUEEN I am very glad on 't. IMOGEN Your son's my father's friend; he takes his part To draw upon an exile. O, brave sir! I would they were in Afric both together, Myself by with a needle, that I might prick The goer-back.--Why came you from your master? PISANIO On his command. He would not suffer me To bring him to the haven, left these notes Of what commands I should be subject to When 't pleased you to employ me. QUEEN, [to Imogen] This hath been Your faithful servant. I dare lay mine honor He will remain so. PISANIO I humbly thank your Highness. QUEEN, [to Imogen] Pray, walk awhile. IMOGEN, [to Pisanio] About some half hour hence, Pray you, speak with me. You shall at least Go see my lord aboard. For this time leave me. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Cloten and two Lords.] FIRST LORD Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt. The violence of action hath made you reek as a sacrifice. Where air comes out, air comes in. There's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent. CLOTEN If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Have I hurt him? SECOND LORD, [aside] No, faith, not so much as his patience. FIRST LORD Hurt him? His body's a passable carcass if he be not hurt. It is a thoroughfare for steel if it be not hurt. SECOND LORD, [aside] His steel was in debt; it went o' th' backside the town. CLOTEN The villain would not stand me. SECOND LORD, [aside] No, but he fled forward still, toward your face. FIRST LORD Stand you? You have land enough of your own, but he added to your having, gave you some ground. SECOND LORD, [aside] As many inches as you have oceans. Puppies! CLOTEN I would they had not come between us. SECOND LORD, [aside] So would I, till you had measured how long a fool you were upon the ground. CLOTEN And that she should love this fellow and refuse me! SECOND LORD, [aside] If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damned. FIRST LORD Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain go not together. She's a good sign, but I have seen small reflection of her wit. SECOND LORD, [aside] She shines not upon fools, lest the reflection should hurt her. CLOTEN Come, I'll to my chamber. Would there had been some hurt done! SECOND LORD, [aside] I wish not so, unless it had been the fall of an ass, which is no great hurt. CLOTEN You'll go with us? FIRST LORD I'll attend your Lordship. CLOTEN Nay, come, let's go together. SECOND LORD Well, my lord. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Imogen and Pisanio.] IMOGEN I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' th' haven And questionedst every sail. If he should write And I not have it, 'twere a paper lost As offered mercy is. What was the last That he spake to thee? PISANIO It was his queen, his queen! IMOGEN Then waved his handkerchief? PISANIO And kissed it, madam. IMOGEN Senseless linen, happier therein than I. And that was all? PISANIO No, madam. For so long As he could make me with this eye or ear Distinguish him from others, he did keep The deck, with glove or hat or handkerchief Still waving, as the fits and stirs of 's mind Could best express how slow his soul sailed on, How swift his ship. IMOGEN Thou shouldst have made him As little as a crow, or less, ere left To after-eye him. PISANIO Madam, so I did. IMOGEN I would have broke mine eyestrings, cracked them, but To look upon him till the diminution Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle; Nay, followed him till he had melted from The smallness of a gnat to air; and then Have turned mine eye and wept. But, good Pisanio, When shall we hear from him? PISANIO Be assured, madam, With his next vantage. IMOGEN I did not take my leave of him, but had Most pretty things to say. Ere I could tell him How I would think on him at certain hours Such thoughts and such; or I could make him swear The shes of Italy should not betray Mine interest and his honor; or have charged him At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight T' encounter me with orisons, for then I am in heaven for him; or ere I could Give him that parting kiss which I had set Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father, And like the tyrannous breathing of the north Shakes all our buds from growing. [Enter a Lady.] LADY The Queen, madam, Desires your Highness' company. IMOGEN, [to Pisanio] Those things I bid you do, get them dispatched. I will attend the Queen. PISANIO Madam, I shall. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Philario, Iachimo, a Frenchman, a Dutchman, and a Spaniard.] IACHIMO Believe it, sir, I have seen him in Britain. He was then of a crescent note, expected to prove so worthy as since he hath been allowed the name of. But I could then have looked on him without the help of admiration, though the catalogue of his endowments had been tabled by his side and I to peruse him by items. PHILARIO You speak of him when he was less furnished than now he is with that which makes him both without and within. FRENCHMAN I have seen him in France. We had very many there could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he. IACHIMO This matter of marrying his king's daughter, wherein he must be weighed rather by her value than his own, words him, I doubt not, a great deal from the matter. FRENCHMAN And then his banishment. IACHIMO Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this lamentable divorce under her colors are wonderfully to extend him, be it but to fortify her judgment, which else an easy battery might lay flat for taking a beggar without less quality.--But how comes it he is to sojourn with you? How creeps acquaintance? PHILARIO His father and I were soldiers together, to whom I have been often bound for no less than my life. [Enter Posthumus.] Here comes the Briton. Let him be so entertained amongst you as suits, with gentlemen of your knowing, to a stranger of his quality.--I beseech you all, be better known to this gentleman, whom I commend to you as a noble friend of mine. How worthy he is I will leave to appear hereafter rather than story him in his own hearing. FRENCHMAN, [to Posthumus] Sir, we have known together in Orleans. POSTHUMUS Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies which I will be ever to pay and yet pay still. FRENCHMAN Sir, you o'errate my poor kindness. I was glad I did atone my countryman and you. It had been pity you should have been put together with so mortal a purpose as then each bore, upon importance of so slight and trivial a nature. POSTHUMUS By your pardon, sir, I was then a young traveler, rather shunned to go even with what I heard than in my every action to be guided by others' experiences. But upon my mended judgment-- if I offend not to say it is mended--my quarrel was not altogether slight. FRENCHMAN Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrament of swords, and by such two that would by all likelihood have confounded one the other or have fall'n both. IACHIMO Can we with manners ask what was the difference? FRENCHMAN Safely, I think. 'Twas a contention in public, which may without contradiction suffer the report. It was much like an argument that fell out last night, where each of us fell in praise of our country mistresses, this gentleman at that time vouching--and upon warrant of bloody affirmation-- his to be more fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constant, qualified, and less attemptable than any the rarest of our ladies in France. IACHIMO That lady is not now living, or this gentleman's opinion by this worn out. POSTHUMUS She holds her virtue still, and I my mind. IACHIMO You must not so far prefer her 'fore ours of Italy. POSTHUMUS Being so far provoked as I was in France, I would abate her nothing, though I profess myself her adorer, not her friend. IACHIMO As fair and as good--a kind of hand-in-hand comparison--had been something too fair and too good for any lady in Britain. If she went before others I have seen, as that diamond of yours outlusters many I have beheld, I could not but believe she excelled many. But I have not seen the most precious diamond that is, nor you the lady. POSTHUMUS I praised her as I rated her. So do I my stone. IACHIMO What do you esteem it at? POSTHUMUS More than the world enjoys. IACHIMO Either your unparagoned mistress is dead, or she's outprized by a trifle. POSTHUMUS You are mistaken. The one may be sold or given, or if there were wealth enough for the purchase or merit for the gift. The other is not a thing for sale, and only the gift of the gods. IACHIMO Which the gods have given you? POSTHUMUS Which, by their graces, I will keep. IACHIMO You may wear her in title yours, but you know strange fowl light upon neighboring ponds. Your ring may be stolen too. So your brace of unprizable estimations, the one is but frail and the other casual. A cunning thief or a that-way-accomplished courtier would hazard the winning both of first and last. POSTHUMUS Your Italy contains none so accomplished a courtier to convince the honor of my mistress, if in the holding or loss of that, you term her frail. I do nothing doubt you have store of thieves; notwithstanding, I fear not my ring. PHILARIO Let us leave here, gentlemen. POSTHUMUS Sir, with all my heart. This worthy signior, I thank him, makes no stranger of me. We are familiar at first. IACHIMO With five times so much conversation I should get ground of your fair mistress, make her go back even to the yielding, had I admittance and opportunity to friend. POSTHUMUS No, no. IACHIMO I dare thereupon pawn the moiety of my estate to your ring, which in my opinion o'ervalues it something. But I make my wager rather against your confidence than her reputation, and, to bar your offense herein too, I durst attempt it against any lady in the world. POSTHUMUS You are a great deal abused in too bold a persuasion, and I doubt not you sustain what you're worthy of by your attempt. IACHIMO What's that? POSTHUMUS A repulse--though your attempt, as you call it, deserve more: a punishment, too. PHILARIO Gentlemen, enough of this. It came in too suddenly. Let it die as it was born, and, I pray you, be better acquainted. IACHIMO Would I had put my estate and my neighbor's on th' approbation of what I have spoke. POSTHUMUS What lady would you choose to assail? IACHIMO Yours, whom in constancy you think stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring that, commend me to the court where your lady is, with no more advantage than the opportunity of a second conference, and I will bring from thence that honor of hers which you imagine so reserved. POSTHUMUS I will wage against your gold, gold to it. My ring I hold dear as my finger; 'tis part of it. IACHIMO You are a friend, and therein the wiser. If you buy ladies' flesh at a million a dram, you cannot preserve it from tainting. But I see you have some religion in you, that you fear. POSTHUMUS This is but a custom in your tongue. You bear a graver purpose, I hope. IACHIMO I am the master of my speeches and would undergo what's spoken, I swear. POSTHUMUS Will you? I shall but lend my diamond till your return. Let there be covenants drawn between 's. My mistress exceeds in goodness the hugeness of your unworthy thinking. I dare you to this match. Here's my ring. PHILARIO I will have it no lay. IACHIMO By the gods, it is one!--If I bring you no sufficient testimony that I have enjoyed the dearest bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand ducats are yours; so is your diamond too. If I come off and leave her in such honor as you have trust in, she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are yours, provided I have your commendation for my more free entertainment. POSTHUMUS I embrace these conditions. Let us have articles betwixt us. Only thus far you shall answer: if you make your voyage upon her and give me directly to understand you have prevailed, I am no further your enemy; she is not worth our debate. If she remain unseduced, you not making it appear otherwise, for your ill opinion and th' assault you have made to her chastity, you shall answer me with your sword. IACHIMO Your hand; a covenant. [(They shake hands.)] We will have these things set down by lawful counsel, and straight away for Britain, lest the bargain should catch cold and starve. I will fetch my gold and have our two wagers recorded. POSTHUMUS Agreed. [Iachimo and Posthumus exit.] FRENCHMAN Will this hold, think you? PHILARIO Signior Iachimo will not from it. Pray, let us follow 'em. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Queen, Ladies, and Cornelius.] QUEEN Whiles yet the dew's on ground, gather those flowers. Make haste. Who has the note of them? LADY I, madam. QUEEN Dispatch. [Ladies exit.] Now, Master Doctor, have you brought those drugs? CORNELIUS Pleaseth your Highness, ay. Here they are, madam. [He hands her a small box.] But I beseech your Grace, without offense-- My conscience bids me ask--wherefore you have Commanded of me these most poisonous compounds, Which are the movers of a languishing death, But though slow, deadly. QUEEN I wonder, doctor, Thou ask'st me such a question. Have I not been Thy pupil long? Hast thou not learned me how To make perfumes, distil, preserve--yea, so That our great king himself doth woo me oft For my confections? Having thus far proceeded, Unless thou think'st me devilish, is 't not meet That I did amplify my judgment in Other conclusions? I will try the forces Of these thy compounds on such creatures as We count not worth the hanging--but none human-- To try the vigor of them and apply Allayments to their act, and by them gather Their several virtues and effects. CORNELIUS Your Highness Shall from this practice but make hard your heart. Besides, the seeing these effects will be Both noisome and infectious. QUEEN O, content thee. [Enter Pisanio.] [Aside.] Here comes a flattering rascal. Upon him Will I first work. He's for his master And enemy to my son.--How now, Pisanio?-- Doctor, your service for this time is ended. Take your own way. CORNELIUS, [aside] I do suspect you, madam, But you shall do no harm. QUEEN, [to Pisanio] Hark thee, a word. CORNELIUS, [aside] I do not like her. She doth think she has Strange ling'ring poisons. I do know her spirit, And will not trust one of her malice with A drug of such damned nature. Those she has Will stupefy and dull the sense awhile, Which first perchance she'll prove on cats and dogs, Then afterward up higher. But there is No danger in what show of death it makes, More than the locking-up the spirits a time, To be more fresh, reviving. She is fooled With a most false effect, and I the truer So to be false with her. QUEEN No further service, doctor, Until I send for thee. CORNELIUS I humbly take my leave. [He exits.] QUEEN Weeps she still, sayst thou? Dost thou think in time She will not quench and let instructions enter Where folly now possesses? Do thou work. When thou shalt bring me word she loves my son, I'll tell thee on the instant thou art then As great as is thy master; greater, for His fortunes all lie speechless, and his name Is at last gasp. Return he cannot, nor Continue where he is. To shift his being Is to exchange one misery with another, And every day that comes comes to decay A day's work in him. What shalt thou expect, To be depender on a thing that leans, Who cannot be new built, nor has no friends So much as but to prop him? [(She drops the box and Pisanio picks it up.)] Thou tak'st up Thou know'st not what. But take it for thy labor. It is a thing I made which hath the King Five times redeemed from death. I do not know What is more cordial. Nay, I prithee, take it. It is an earnest of a farther good That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how The case stands with her. Do 't as from thyself. Think what a chance thou changest on, but think Thou hast thy mistress still; to boot, my son, Who shall take notice of thee. I'll move the King To any shape of thy preferment such As thou 'lt desire; and then myself, I chiefly, That set thee on to this desert, am bound To load thy merit richly. Call my women. Think on my words. [Pisanio exits.] A sly and constant knave, Not to be shaked; the agent for his master And the remembrancer of her to hold The handfast to her lord. I have given him that Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her Of liegers for her sweet, and which she after, Except she bend her humor, shall be assured To taste of too. [Enter Pisanio and Ladies carrying flowers.] [To the Ladies.] So, so. Well done, well done. The violets, cowslips, and the primroses Bear to my closet.--Fare thee well, Pisanio. Think on my words. [Queen and Ladies exit.] PISANIO And shall do. But when to my good lord I prove untrue, I'll choke myself; there's all I'll do for you. [He exits.] Scene 6 ======= [Enter Imogen alone.] IMOGEN A father cruel and a stepdame false, A foolish suitor to a wedded lady That hath her husband banished. O, that husband, My supreme crown of grief and those repeated Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stol'n, As my two brothers, happy; but most miserable Is the desire that's glorious. Blessed be those, How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills, Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fie! [Enter Pisanio and Iachimo.] PISANIO Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome Comes from my lord with letters. IACHIMO Change you, madam? The worthy Leonatus is in safety And greets your Highness dearly. [He gives her a letter.] IMOGEN Thanks, good sir. You're kindly welcome. IACHIMO, [aside] All of her that is out of door, most rich! If she be furnished with a mind so rare, She is alone th' Arabian bird, and I Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend. Arm me, audacity, from head to foot, Or like the Parthian I shall flying fight-- Rather, directly fly. IMOGEN [reads:] He is one of the noblest note, to whose kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon him accordingly as you value your trust. Leonatus. So far I read aloud. But even the very middle of my heart Is warmed by th' rest and takes it thankfully.-- You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I Have words to bid you, and shall find it so In all that I can do. IACHIMO Thanks, fairest lady.-- What, are men mad? Hath nature given them eyes To see this vaulted arch and the rich crop Of sea and land, which can distinguish 'twixt The fiery orbs above and the twinned stones Upon the numbered beach, and can we not Partition make with spectacles so precious 'Twixt fair and foul? IMOGEN What makes your admiration? IACHIMO It cannot be i' th' eye, for apes and monkeys 'Twixt two such shes would chatter this way and Contemn with mows the other; nor i' th' judgment, For idiots in this case of favor would Be wisely definite; nor i' th' appetite-- Sluttery to such neat excellence opposed Should make desire vomit emptiness, Not so allured to feed. IMOGEN What is the matter, trow? IACHIMO The cloyed will, That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub Both filled and running, ravening first the lamb, Longs after for the garbage. IMOGEN What, dear sir, Thus raps you? Are you well? IACHIMO Thanks, madam, well. [(To Pisanio.)] Beseech you, sir, Desire my man's abode where I did leave him. He's strange and peevish. PISANIO I was going, sir, To give him welcome. [He exits.] IMOGEN Continues well my lord? His health, beseech you? IACHIMO Well, madam. IMOGEN Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is. IACHIMO Exceeding pleasant. None a stranger there So merry and so gamesome. He is called The Briton Reveler. IMOGEN When he was here He did incline to sadness, and ofttimes Not knowing why. IACHIMO I never saw him sad. There is a Frenchman his companion, one An eminent monsieur that, it seems, much loves A Gallian girl at home. He furnaces The thick sighs from him, whiles the jolly Briton-- Your lord, I mean--laughs from 's free lungs, cries "O, Can my sides hold to think that man who knows By history, report, or his own proof What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose But must be, will 's free hours languish for Assured bondage?" IMOGEN Will my lord say so? IACHIMO Ay, madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter. It is a recreation to be by And hear him mock the Frenchman. But heavens know Some men are much to blame. IMOGEN Not he, I hope. IACHIMO Not he--but yet heaven's bounty towards him might Be used more thankfully. In himself 'tis much; In you, which I account his, beyond all talents. Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound To pity too. IMOGEN What do you pity, sir? IACHIMO Two creatures heartily. IMOGEN Am I one, sir? You look on me. What wrack discern you in me Deserves your pity? IACHIMO Lamentable! What, To hide me from the radiant sun and solace I' th' dungeon by a snuff? IMOGEN I pray you, sir, Deliver with more openness your answers To my demands. Why do you pity me? IACHIMO That others do-- I was about to say, enjoy your--but It is an office of the gods to venge it, Not mine to speak on 't. IMOGEN You do seem to know Something of me or what concerns me. Pray you, Since doubting things go ill often hurts more Than to be sure they do--for certainties Either are past remedies, or, timely knowing, The remedy then born--discover to me What both you spur and stop. IACHIMO Had I this cheek To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch, Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul To th' oath of loyalty; this object which Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye, Fixing it only here; should I, damned then, Slaver with lips as common as the stairs That mount the Capitol, join gripes with hands Made hard with hourly falsehood--falsehood as With labor; then by-peeping in an eye Base and illustrous as the smoky light That's fed with stinking tallow; it were fit That all the plagues of hell should at one time Encounter such revolt. IMOGEN My lord, I fear, Has forgot Britain. IACHIMO And himself. Not I, Inclined to this intelligence, pronounce The beggary of his change, but 'tis your graces That from my mutest conscience to my tongue Charms this report out. IMOGEN Let me hear no more. IACHIMO O dearest soul, your cause doth strike my heart With pity that doth make me sick. A lady So fair, and fastened to an empery Would make the great'st king double, to be partnered With tomboys hired with that self exhibition Which your own coffers yield, with diseased ventures That play with all infirmities for gold Which rottenness can lend nature; such boiled stuff As well might poison poison. Be revenged, Or she that bore you was no queen, and you Recoil from your great stock. IMOGEN Revenged? How should I be revenged? If this be true-- As I have such a heart that both mine ears Must not in haste abuse--if it be true, How should I be revenged? IACHIMO Should he make me Live like Diana's priest betwixt cold sheets, Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps, In your despite, upon your purse? Revenge it. I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure, More noble than that runagate to your bed, And will continue fast to your affection, Still close as sure. IMOGEN What ho, Pisanio! IACHIMO Let me my service tender on your lips. IMOGEN Away! I do condemn mine ears that have So long attended thee. If thou wert honorable, Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, not For such an end thou seek'st, as base as strange. Thou wrong'st a gentleman who is as far From thy report as thou from honor, and Solicits here a lady that disdains Thee and the devil alike.--What ho, Pisanio!-- The King my father shall be made acquainted Of thy assault. If he shall think it fit A saucy stranger in his court to mart As in a Romish stew and to expound His beastly mind to us, he hath a court He little cares for and a daughter who He not respects at all.--What ho, Pisanio! IACHIMO O happy Leonatus! I may say The credit that thy lady hath of thee Deserves thy trust, and thy most perfect goodness Her assured credit.--Blessed live you long, A lady to the worthiest sir that ever Country called his; and you his mistress, only For the most worthiest fit. Give me your pardon. I have spoke this to know if your affiance Were deeply rooted, and shall make your lord That which he is, new o'er; and he is one The truest mannered, such a holy witch That he enchants societies into him. Half all men's hearts are his. IMOGEN You make amends. IACHIMO He sits 'mongst men like a descended god. He hath a kind of honor sets him off More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry, Most mighty princess, that I have adventured To try your taking of a false report, which hath Honored with confirmation your great judgment In the election of a sir so rare, Which you know cannot err. The love I bear him Made me to fan you thus, but the gods made you, Unlike all others, chaffless. Pray, your pardon. IMOGEN All's well, sir. Take my power i' th' court for yours. IACHIMO My humble thanks. I had almost forgot T' entreat your Grace but in a small request, And yet of moment too, for it concerns. Your lord, myself, and other noble friends Are partners in the business. IMOGEN Pray, what is 't? IACHIMO Some dozen Romans of us and your lord-- The best feather of our wing--have mingled sums To buy a present for the Emperor; Which I, the factor for the rest, have done In France. 'Tis plate of rare device and jewels Of rich and exquisite form, their values great. And I am something curious, being strange, To have them in safe stowage. May it please you To take them in protection? IMOGEN Willingly; And pawn mine honor for their safety. Since My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them In my bedchamber. IACHIMO They are in a trunk Attended by my men. I will make bold To send them to you, only for this night. I must aboard tomorrow. IMOGEN O no, no. IACHIMO Yes, I beseech, or I shall short my word By length'ning my return. From Gallia I crossed the seas on purpose and on promise To see your Grace. IMOGEN I thank you for your pains. But not away tomorrow. IACHIMO O, I must, madam. Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please To greet your lord with writing, do 't tonight. I have outstood my time, which is material To th' tender of our present. IMOGEN I will write. Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept And truly yielded you. You're very welcome. [They exit.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Cloten and the two Lords.] CLOTEN Was there ever man had such luck? When I kissed the jack, upon an upcast to be hit away? I had a hundred pound on 't. And then a whoreson jackanapes must take me up for swearing, as if I borrowed mine oaths of him and might not spend them at my pleasure. FIRST LORD What got he by that? You have broke his pate with your bowl. SECOND LORD, [aside] If his wit had been like him that broke it, it would have run all out. CLOTEN When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths, ha? SECOND LORD No, my lord, [(aside)] nor crop the ears of them. CLOTEN Whoreson dog! I gave him satisfaction. Would he had been one of my rank. SECOND LORD, [aside] To have smelled like a fool. CLOTEN I am not vexed more at anything in th' Earth. A pox on 't! I had rather not be so noble as I am. They dare not fight with me because of the Queen my mother. Every jack-slave hath his bellyful of fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that nobody can match. SECOND LORD, [aside] You are cock and capon too, and you crow cock with your comb on. CLOTEN Sayest thou? SECOND LORD It is not fit your Lordship should undertake every companion that you give offense to. CLOTEN No, I know that, but it is fit I should commit offense to my inferiors. SECOND LORD Ay, it is fit for your Lordship only. CLOTEN Why, so I say. FIRST LORD Did you hear of a stranger that's come to court tonight? CLOTEN A stranger, and I not know on 't? SECOND LORD, [aside] He's a strange fellow himself and knows it not. FIRST LORD There's an Italian come, and 'tis thought one of Leonatus' friends. CLOTEN Leonatus? A banished rascal; and he's another, whatsoever he be. Who told you of this stranger? FIRST LORD One of your Lordship's pages. CLOTEN Is it fit I went to look upon him? Is there no derogation in 't? SECOND LORD You cannot derogate, my lord. CLOTEN Not easily, I think. SECOND LORD, [aside] You are a fool granted; therefore your issues, being foolish, do not derogate. CLOTEN Come, I'll go see this Italian. What I have lost today at bowls I'll win tonight of him. Come, go. SECOND LORD I'll attend your Lordship. [Cloten and First Lord exit.] That such a crafty devil as is his mother Should yield the world this ass! A woman that Bears all down with her brain, and this her son Cannot take two from twenty, for his heart, And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess, Thou divine Imogen, what thou endur'st, Betwixt a father by thy stepdame governed, A mother hourly coining plots, a wooer More hateful than the foul expulsion is Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act Of the divorce he'd make! The heavens hold firm The walls of thy dear honor, keep unshaked That temple, thy fair mind, that thou mayst stand T' enjoy thy banished lord and this great land. [He exits.] Scene 2 ======= [A trunk is brought in. Enter Imogen, reading, in her bed, and a Lady.] IMOGEN Who's there? My woman Helen? LADY Please you, madam. IMOGEN What hour is it? LADY Almost midnight, madam. IMOGEN I have read three hours then. Mine eyes are weak. [She hands the Lady her book.] Fold down the leaf where I have left. To bed. Take not away the taper; leave it burning. And if thou canst awake by four o' th' clock, I prithee, call me. [(Lady exits.)] Sleep hath seized me wholly. To your protection I commend me, gods. From fairies and the tempters of the night Guard me, beseech you. [Sleeps.] [Iachimo from the trunk.] IACHIMO The crickets sing, and man's o'erlabored sense Repairs itself by rest. Our Tarquin thus Did softly press the rushes ere he wakened The chastity he wounded.--Cytherea, How bravely thou becom'st thy bed, fresh lily, And whiter than the sheets.--That I might touch! But kiss, one kiss! Rubies unparagoned, How dearly they do 't. 'Tis her breathing that Perfumes the chamber thus. The flame o' th' taper Bows toward her and would underpeep her lids To see th' enclosed lights, now canopied Under these windows, white and azure-laced With blue of heaven's own tinct. But my design: To note the chamber. I will write all down. [He begins to write.] Such and such pictures; there the window; such Th' adornment of her bed; the arras, figures, Why, such and such; and the contents o' th' story. [He continues to write.] Ah, but some natural notes about her body Above ten thousand meaner movables Would testify t' enrich mine inventory. O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her, And be her sense but as a monument Thus in a chapel lying. [(He begins to remove her bracelet.)] Come off, come off; As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard. 'Tis mine, and this will witness outwardly As strongly as the conscience does within To th' madding of her lord. On her left breast A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops I' th' bottom of a cowslip. Here's a voucher Stronger than ever law could make. This secret Will force him think I have picked the lock and ta'en The treasure of her honor. No more. To what end? Why should I write this down that's riveted, Screwed to my memory? She hath been reading late The tale of Tereus; here the leaf's turned down Where Philomel gave up. I have enough. To th' trunk again, and shut the spring of it. Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawning May bare the raven's eye. I lodge in fear. Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here. [Clock strikes.] One, two, three. Time, time! [He exits into the trunk. The trunk and bed are removed.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Cloten and Lords.] FIRST LORD Your Lordship is the most patient man in loss, the most coldest that ever turned up ace. CLOTEN It would make any man cold to lose. FIRST LORD But not every man patient after the noble temper of your Lordship. You are most hot and furious when you win. CLOTEN Winning will put any man into courage. If I could get this foolish Imogen, I should have gold enough. It's almost morning, is 't not? FIRST LORD Day, my lord. CLOTEN I would this music would come. I am advised to give her music a-mornings; they say it will penetrate. [Enter Musicians.] Come on, tune. If you can penetrate her with your fingering, so. We'll try with tongue, too. If none will do, let her remain, but I'll never give o'er. First, a very excellent good-conceited thing; after, a wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich words to it, and then let her consider. [Musicians begin to play.] Song. Hark, hark, the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes. With everything that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise, Arise, arise. CLOTEN So, get you gone. If this penetrate, I will consider your music the better. If it do not, it is a vice in her ears which horsehairs and calves' guts, nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to boot, can never amend. [Musicians exit.] [Enter Cymbeline and Queen, with Attendants.] SECOND LORD Here comes the King. CLOTEN I am glad I was up so late, for that's the reason I was up so early. He cannot choose but take this service I have done fatherly.--Good morrow to your Majesty and to my gracious mother. CYMBELINE Attend you here the door of our stern daughter? Will she not forth? CLOTEN I have assailed her with musics, but she vouchsafes no notice. CYMBELINE The exile of her minion is too new; She hath not yet forgot him. Some more time Must wear the print of his remembrance on 't, And then she's yours. QUEEN, [to Cloten] You are most bound to th' King, Who lets go by no vantages that may Prefer you to his daughter. Frame yourself To orderly solicits and be friended With aptness of the season. Make denials Increase your services. So seem as if You were inspired to do those duties which You tender to her; that you in all obey her, Save when command to your dismission tends, And therein you are senseless. CLOTEN Senseless? Not so. [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER, [to Cymbeline] So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome; The one is Caius Lucius. [Messenger exits.] CYMBELINE A worthy fellow, Albeit he comes on angry purpose now. But that's no fault of his. We must receive him According to the honor of his sender, And towards himself, his goodness forespent on us, We must extend our notice.--Our dear son, When you have given good morning to your mistress, Attend the Queen and us. We shall have need T' employ you towards this Roman.--Come, our queen. [Cymbeline and Queen exit, with Lords and Attendants.] CLOTEN If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not, Let her lie still and dream. [(He knocks.)] By your leave, ho!-- I know her women are about her. What If I do line one of their hands? 'Tis gold Which buys admittance--oft it doth--yea, and makes Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up Their deer to th' stand o' th' stealer; and 'tis gold Which makes the true man killed and saves the thief, Nay, sometime hangs both thief and true man. What Can it not do and undo? I will make One of her women lawyer to me, for I yet not understand the case myself. By your leave. [Knocks.] [Enter a Lady.] LADY Who's there that knocks? CLOTEN A gentleman. LADY No more? CLOTEN Yes, and a gentlewoman's son. LADY That's more Than some whose tailors are as dear as yours Can justly boast of. What's your Lordship's pleasure? CLOTEN Your lady's person. Is she ready? LADY Ay, To keep her chamber. CLOTEN There is gold for you. Sell me your good report. [He offers a purse.] LADY How, my good name? Or to report of you What I shall think is good? [Enter Imogen.] The Princess. [Lady exits.] CLOTEN Good morrow, fairest sister. Your sweet hand. IMOGEN Good morrow, sir. You lay out too much pains For purchasing but trouble. The thanks I give Is telling you that I am poor of thanks And scarce can spare them. CLOTEN Still I swear I love you. IMOGEN If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me. If you swear still, your recompense is still That I regard it not. CLOTEN This is no answer. IMOGEN But that you shall not say I yield being silent, I would not speak. I pray you, spare me. Faith, I shall unfold equal discourtesy To your best kindness. One of your great knowing Should learn, being taught, forbearance. CLOTEN To leave you in your madness 'twere my sin. I will not. IMOGEN Fools are not mad folks. CLOTEN Do you call me fool? IMOGEN As I am mad, I do. If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad. That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir, You put me to forget a lady's manners By being so verbal; and learn now for all That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce, By th' very truth of it, I care not for you, And am so near the lack of charity To accuse myself I hate you--which I had rather You felt than make 't my boast. CLOTEN You sin against Obedience, which you owe your father. For The contract you pretend with that base wretch-- One bred of alms and fostered with cold dishes, With scraps o' th' court--it is no contract, none; And though it be allowed in meaner parties-- Yet who than he more mean?--to knit their souls, On whom there is no more dependency But brats and beggary, in self-figured knot; Yet you are curbed from that enlargement by The consequence o' th' crown, and must not foil The precious note of it with a base slave, A hilding for a livery, a squire's cloth, A pantler--not so eminent. IMOGEN Profane fellow, Wert thou the son of Jupiter and no more But what thou art besides, thou wert too base To be his groom. Thou wert dignified enough, Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made Comparative for your virtues to be styled The under-hangman of his kingdom and hated For being preferred so well. CLOTEN The south fog rot him! IMOGEN He never can meet more mischance than come To be but named of thee. His mean'st garment That ever hath but clipped his body is dearer In my respect than all the hairs above thee, Were they all made such men.--How now, Pisanio! [Enter Pisanio.] CLOTEN "His garment"? Now the devil-- IMOGEN, [to Pisanio] To Dorothy, my woman, hie thee presently. CLOTEN "His garment"? IMOGEN, [to Pisanio] I am sprighted with a fool, Frighted and angered worse. Go bid my woman Search for a jewel that too casually Hath left mine arm. It was thy master's. Shrew me If I would lose it for a revenue Of any king's in Europe. I do think I saw 't this morning. Confident I am Last night 'twas on mine arm; I kissed it. I hope it be not gone to tell my lord That I kiss aught but he. PISANIO 'Twill not be lost. IMOGEN I hope so. Go and search. [Pisanio exits.] CLOTEN You have abused me. "His meanest garment"? IMOGEN Ay, I said so, sir. If you will make 't an action, call witness to 't. CLOTEN I will inform your father. IMOGEN Your mother too. She's my good lady and will conceive, I hope, But the worst of me. So I leave you, sir, To th' worst of discontent. [She exits.] CLOTEN I'll be revenged! "His mean'st garment"? Well. [He exits.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Posthumus and Philario.] POSTHUMUS Fear it not, sir. I would I were so sure To win the King as I am bold her honor Will remain hers. PHILARIO What means do you make to him? POSTHUMUS Not any, but abide the change of time, Quake in the present winter's state, and wish That warmer days would come. In these feared hopes I barely gratify your love; they failing, I must die much your debtor. PHILARIO Your very goodness and your company O'erpays all I can do. By this, your king Hath heard of great Augustus. Caius Lucius Will do 's commission throughly. And I think He'll grant the tribute, send th' arrearages, Or look upon our Romans, whose remembrance Is yet fresh in their grief. POSTHUMUS I do believe, Statist though I am none nor like to be, That this will prove a war; and you shall hear The legion now in Gallia sooner landed In our not-fearing Britain than have tidings Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen Are men more ordered than when Julius Caesar Smiled at their lack of skill but found their courage Worthy his frowning at. Their discipline, Now winged with their courages, will make known To their approvers they are people such That mend upon the world. [Enter Iachimo.] PHILARIO See, Iachimo! POSTHUMUS The swiftest harts have posted you by land, And winds of all the corners kissed your sails To make your vessel nimble. PHILARIO Welcome, sir. POSTHUMUS I hope the briefness of your answer made The speediness of your return. IACHIMO Your lady Is one of the fairest that I have looked upon. POSTHUMUS And therewithal the best, or let her beauty Look thorough a casement to allure false hearts And be false with them. IACHIMO, [handing him a paper] Here are letters for you. POSTHUMUS Their tenor good, I trust. IACHIMO 'Tis very like. [Posthumus reads the letter.] PHILARIO Was Caius Lucius in the Briton court When you were there? IACHIMO He was expected then, but not approached. POSTHUMUS All is well yet. Sparkles this stone as it was wont, or is 't not Too dull for your good wearing? [He indicates his ring.] IACHIMO If I have lost it, I should have lost the worth of it in gold. I'll make a journey twice as far t' enjoy A second night of such sweet shortness which Was mine in Britain, for the ring is won. POSTHUMUS The stone's too hard to come by. IACHIMO Not a whit, Your lady being so easy. POSTHUMUS Make not, sir, Your loss your sport. I hope you know that we Must not continue friends. IACHIMO Good sir, we must, If you keep covenant. Had I not brought The knowledge of your mistress home, I grant We were to question farther; but I now Profess myself the winner of her honor, Together with your ring, and not the wronger Of her or you, having proceeded but By both your wills. POSTHUMUS If you can make 't apparent That you have tasted her in bed, my hand And ring is yours. If not, the foul opinion You had of her pure honor gains or loses Your sword or mine, or masterless leave both To who shall find them. IACHIMO Sir, my circumstances, Being so near the truth as I will make them, Must first induce you to believe; whose strength I will confirm with oath, which I doubt not You'll give me leave to spare when you shall find You need it not. POSTHUMUS Proceed. IACHIMO First, her bedchamber-- Where I confess I slept not, but profess Had that was well worth watching--it was hanged With tapestry of silk and silver, the story Proud Cleopatra when she met her Roman And Cydnus swelled above the banks, or for The press of boats or pride. A piece of work So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive In workmanship and value, which I wondered Could be so rarely and exactly wrought Since the true life on 't was-- POSTHUMUS This is true, And this you might have heard of here, by me Or by some other. IACHIMO More particulars Must justify my knowledge. POSTHUMUS So they must, Or do your honor injury. IACHIMO The chimney Is south the chamber, and the chimney-piece Chaste Dian bathing. Never saw I figures So likely to report themselves; the cutter Was as another Nature, dumb, outwent her, Motion and breath left out. POSTHUMUS This is a thing Which you might from relation likewise reap, Being, as it is, much spoke of. IACHIMO The roof o' th' chamber With golden cherubins is fretted. Her andirons-- I had forgot them--were two winking Cupids Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely Depending on their brands. POSTHUMUS This is her honor? Let it be granted you have seen all this--and praise Be given to your remembrance--the description Of what is in her chamber nothing saves The wager you have laid. IACHIMO Then if you can Be pale, I beg but leave to air this jewel. See-- [He shows the bracelet.] And now 'tis up again. It must be married To that your diamond. I'll keep them. POSTHUMUS Jove! Once more let me behold it. Is it that Which I left with her? IACHIMO Sir, I thank her, that. She stripped it from her arm. I see her yet. Her pretty action did outsell her gift And yet enriched it too. She gave it me And said she prized it once. POSTHUMUS Maybe she plucked it off To send it me. IACHIMO She writes so to you, doth she? POSTHUMUS O, no, no, no, 'tis true. Here, take this too. [He gives Iachimo the ring.] It is a basilisk unto mine eye, Kills me to look on 't. Let there be no honor Where there is beauty, truth where semblance, love Where there's another man. The vows of women Of no more bondage be to where they are made Than they are to their virtues, which is nothing. O, above measure false! PHILARIO Have patience, sir, And take your ring again. 'Tis not yet won. It may be probable she lost it; or Who knows if one her women, being corrupted, Hath stol'n it from her. POSTHUMUS Very true, And so I hope he came by 't.--Back, my ring! [He takes back the ring.] Render to me some corporal sign about her More evident than this, for this was stol'n. IACHIMO By Jupiter, I had it from her arm. POSTHUMUS Hark you, he swears! By Jupiter he swears. 'Tis true--nay, keep the ring--'tis true. [He holds out the ring.] I am sure She would not lose it. Her attendants are All sworn and honorable. They induced to steal it? And by a stranger? No, he hath enjoyed her. The cognizance of her incontinency Is this. She hath bought the name of whore thus dearly. There, take thy hire, and all the fiends of hell Divide themselves between you! [He gives the ring to Iachimo.] PHILARIO Sir, be patient. This is not strong enough to be believed Of one persuaded well of. POSTHUMUS Never talk on 't. She hath been colted by him. IACHIMO If you seek For further satisfying, under her breast, Worthy the pressing, lies a mole, right proud Of that most delicate lodging. By my life, I kissed it, and it gave me present hunger To feed again, though full. You do remember This stain upon her? POSTHUMUS Ay, and it doth confirm Another stain as big as hell can hold, Were there no more but it. IACHIMO Will you hear more? POSTHUMUS Spare your arithmetic; Never count the turns. Once, and a million! IACHIMO I'll be sworn-- POSTHUMUS No swearing. If you will swear you have not done 't, you lie, And I will kill thee if thou dost deny Thou 'st made me cuckold. IACHIMO I'll deny nothing. POSTHUMUS O, that I had her here, to tear her limb-meal! I will go there and do 't i' th' court, before Her father. I'll do something. [He exits.] PHILARIO Quite beside The government of patience. You have won. Let's follow him and pervert the present wrath He hath against himself. IACHIMO With all my heart. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Posthumus.] POSTHUMUS Is there no way for men to be, but women Must be half-workers? We are all bastards, And that most venerable man which I Did call my father was I know not where When I was stamped. Some coiner with his tools Made me a counterfeit; yet my mother seemed The Dian of that time; so doth my wife The nonpareil of this. O, vengeance, vengeance! Me of my lawful pleasure she restrained And prayed me oft forbearance; did it with A pudency so rosy the sweet view on 't Might well have warmed old Saturn, that I thought her As chaste as unsunned snow. O, all the devils! This yellow Iachimo in an hour, was 't not? Or less? At first? Perchance he spoke not, but, Like a full-acorned boar, a German one, Cried "O!" and mounted; found no opposition But what he looked for should oppose and she Should from encounter guard. Could I find out The woman's part in me--for there's no motion That tends to vice in man but I affirm It is the woman's part: be it lying, note it, The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers; Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers; Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain, Nice longing, slanders, mutability, All faults that have a name, nay, that hell knows, Why, hers, in part or all, but rather all. For even to vice They are not constant, but are changing still One vice but of a minute old for one Not half so old as that. I'll write against them, Detest them, curse them. Yet 'tis greater skill In a true hate to pray they have their will; The very devils cannot plague them better. [He exits.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter in state Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, and Lords at one door, and, at another, Caius Lucius and Attendants.] CYMBELINE Now say, what would Augustus Caesar with us? LUCIUS When Julius Caesar, whose remembrance yet Lives in men's eyes and will to ears and tongues Be theme and hearing ever, was in this Britain And conquered it, Cassibelan, thine uncle, Famous in Caesar's praises no whit less Than in his feats deserving it, for him And his succession granted Rome a tribute, Yearly three thousand pounds, which by thee lately Is left untendered. QUEEN And, to kill the marvel, Shall be so ever. CLOTEN There be many Caesars Ere such another Julius. Britain's a world By itself, and we will nothing pay For wearing our own noses. QUEEN That opportunity Which then they had to take from 's, to resume We have again.--Remember, sir, my liege, The Kings your ancestors, together with The natural bravery of your isle, which stands As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in With rocks unscalable and roaring waters, With sands that will not bear your enemies' boats But suck them up to th' topmast. A kind of conquest Caesar made here, but made not here his brag Of "came, and saw, and overcame." With shame-- The first that ever touched him--he was carried From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping, Poor ignorant baubles, on our terrible seas Like eggshells moved upon their surges, cracked As easily 'gainst our rocks. For joy whereof The famed Cassibelan, who was once at point-- O, giglet Fortune!--to master Caesar's sword, Made Lud's Town with rejoicing fires bright And Britons strut with courage. CLOTEN Come, there's no more tribute to be paid. Our kingdom is stronger than it was at that time, and, as I said, there is no more such Caesars. Other of them may have crooked noses, but to owe such straight arms, none. CYMBELINE Son, let your mother end. CLOTEN We have yet many among us can grip as hard as Cassibelan. I do not say I am one, but I have a hand. Why tribute? Why should we pay tribute? If Caesar can hide the sun from us with a blanket or put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for light; else, sir, no more tribute, pray you now. CYMBELINE, [to Lucius] You must know, Till the injurious Romans did extort This tribute from us, we were free. Caesar's ambition, Which swelled so much that it did almost stretch The sides o' th' world, against all color here Did put the yoke upon 's, which to shake off Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon Ourselves to be. We do say, then, to Caesar, Our ancestor was that Mulmutius which Ordained our laws, whose use the sword of Caesar Hath too much mangled, whose repair and franchise Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed, Though Rome be therefore angry. Mulmutius made our laws, Who was the first of Britain which did put His brows within a golden crown and called Himself a king. LUCIUS I am sorry, Cymbeline, That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar-- Caesar, that hath more kings his servants than Thyself domestic officers--thine enemy. Receive it from me, then: war and confusion In Caesar's name pronounce I 'gainst thee. Look For fury not to be resisted. Thus defied, I thank thee for myself. CYMBELINE Thou art welcome, Caius. Thy Caesar knighted me; my youth I spent Much under him. Of him I gathered honor, Which he to seek of me again perforce Behooves me keep at utterance. I am perfect That the Pannonians and Dalmatians for Their liberties are now in arms, a precedent Which not to read would show the Britons cold. So Caesar shall not find them. LUCIUS Let proof speak. CLOTEN His Majesty bids you welcome. Make pastime with us a day or two, or longer. If you seek us afterwards in other terms, you shall find us in our saltwater girdle; if you beat us out of it, it is yours. If you fall in the adventure, our crows shall fare the better for you, and there's an end. LUCIUS So, sir. CYMBELINE I know your master's pleasure, and he mine. All the remain is welcome. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Pisanio reading of a letter.] PISANIO How? Of adultery? Wherefore write you not What monsters her accuse? Leonatus, O master, what a strange infection Is fall'n into thy ear! What false Italian, As poisonous-tongued as handed, hath prevailed On thy too ready hearing? Disloyal? No. She's punished for her truth and undergoes, More goddesslike than wifelike, such assaults As would take in some virtue. O my master, Thy mind to her is now as low as were Thy fortunes. How? That I should murder her, Upon the love and truth and vows which I Have made to thy command? I her? Her blood? If it be so to do good service, never Let me be counted serviceable. How look I That I should seem to lack humanity So much as this fact comes to? [(He reads:)] Do 't! The letter That I have sent her, by her own command Shall give thee opportunity. O damned paper, Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless bauble, Art thou a fedary for this act, and look'st So virginlike without? Lo, here she comes. [Enter Imogen.] I am ignorant in what I am commanded. IMOGEN How now, Pisanio? PISANIO Madam, here is a letter from my lord. [He gives her a paper.] IMOGEN Who, thy lord that is my lord, Leonatus? O, learned indeed were that astronomer That knew the stars as I his characters! He'd lay the future open. You good gods, Let what is here contained relish of love, Of my lord's health, of his content (yet not That we two are asunder; let that grieve him. Some griefs are med'cinable; that is one of them, For it doth physic love) of his content All but in that. Good wax, thy leave. [She opens the letter.] Blest be You bees that make these locks of counsel. Lovers And men in dangerous bonds pray not alike; Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet You clasp young Cupid's tables. Good news, gods! [Reads.] Justice and your father's wrath, should he take me in his dominion, could not be so cruel to me as you, O the dearest of creatures, would even renew me with your eyes. Take notice that I am in Cambria at Milford Haven. What your own love will out of this advise you, follow. So he wishes you all happiness, that remains loyal to his vow, and your increasing in love. Leonatus Posthumus. O, for a horse with wings! Hear'st thou, Pisanio? He is at Milford Haven. Read, and tell me How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs May plod it in a week, why may not I Glide thither in a day? Then, true Pisanio, Who long'st like me to see thy lord, who long'st-- O, let me bate--but not like me, yet long'st But in a fainter kind--O, not like me, For mine's beyond beyond--say, and speak thick-- Love's counselor should fill the bores of hearing To th' smothering of the sense--how far it is To this same blessed Milford. And by th' way Tell me how Wales was made so happy as T' inherit such a haven. But first of all, How we may steal from hence, and for the gap That we shall make in time from our hence-going And our return, to excuse. But first, how get hence? Why should excuse be born or ere begot? We'll talk of that hereafter. Prithee speak, How many score of miles may we well rid 'Twixt hour and hour? PISANIO One score 'twixt sun and sun, Madam, 's enough for you, and too much too. IMOGEN Why, one that rode to 's execution, man, Could never go so slow. I have heard of riding wagers Where horses have been nimbler than the sands That run i' th' clock's behalf. But this is fool'ry. Go, bid my woman feign a sickness, say She'll home to her father; and provide me presently A riding suit no costlier than would fit A franklin's huswife. PISANIO Madam, you're best consider. IMOGEN I see before me, man. Nor here, nor here, Nor what ensues, but have a fog in them That I cannot look through. Away, I prithee. Do as I bid thee. There's no more to say. Accessible is none but Milford way. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter, as from a cave, Belarius as Morgan, Guiderius as Polydor, and Arviragus as Cadwal.] BELARIUS, [as Morgan] A goodly day not to keep house with such Whose roof's as low as ours! Stoop, boys. This gate Instructs you how t' adore the heavens and bows you To a morning's holy office. The gates of monarchs Are arched so high that giants may jet through And keep their impious turbans on, without Good morrow to the sun. Hail, thou fair heaven! We house i' th' rock, yet use thee not so hardly As prouder livers do. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] Hail, heaven! ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] Hail, heaven! BELARIUS, [as Morgan] Now for our mountain sport. Up to yond hill; Your legs are young. I'll tread these flats. Consider, When you above perceive me like a crow, That it is place which lessens and sets off, And you may then revolve what tales I have told you Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war. This service is not service, so being done, But being so allowed. To apprehend thus Draws us a profit from all things we see, And often, to our comfort, shall we find The sharded beetle in a safer hold Than is the full-winged eagle. O, this life Is nobler than attending for a check, Richer than doing nothing for a robe, Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk: Such gain the cap of him that makes him fine Yet keeps his book uncrossed. No life to ours. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] Out of your proof you speak. We poor unfledged Have never winged from view o' th' nest, nor know not What air 's from home. Haply this life is best If quiet life be best, sweeter to you That have a sharper known, well corresponding With your stiff age; but unto us it is A cell of ignorance, traveling abed, A prison for a debtor that not dares To stride a limit. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] What should we speak of When we are old as you? When we shall hear The rain and wind beat dark December, how In this our pinching cave shall we discourse The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing. We are beastly: subtle as the fox for prey, Like warlike as the wolf for what we eat. Our valor is to chase what flies. Our cage We make a choir, as doth the prisoned bird, And sing our bondage freely. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] How you speak! Did you but know the city's usuries And felt them knowingly; the art o' th' court, As hard to leave as keep, whose top to climb Is certain falling, or so slipp'ry that The fear's as bad as falling; the toil o' th' war, A pain that only seems to seek out danger I' th' name of fame and honor, which dies i' th' search And hath as oft a sland'rous epitaph As record of fair act--nay, many times Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse, Must curtsy at the censure. O boys, this story The world may read in me. My body's marked With Roman swords, and my report was once First with the best of note. Cymbeline loved me, And when a soldier was the theme, my name Was not far off. Then was I as a tree Whose boughs did bend with fruit. But in one night A storm or robbery, call it what you will, Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, And left me bare to weather. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] Uncertain favor! BELARIUS, [as Morgan] My fault being nothing, as I have told you oft, But that two villains, whose false oaths prevailed Before my perfect honor, swore to Cymbeline I was confederate with the Romans. So Followed my banishment; and this twenty years This rock and these demesnes have been my world, Where I have lived at honest freedom, paid More pious debts to heaven than in all The fore-end of my time. But up to th' mountains! This is not hunters' language. He that strikes The venison first shall be the lord o' th' feast; To him the other two shall minister, And we will fear no poison, which attends In place of greater state. I'll meet you in the valleys. [Guiderius and Arviragus exit.] BELARIUS How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature! These boys know little they are sons to th' King, Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive. They think they are mine, and, though trained up thus meanly, I' th' cave wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit The roofs of palaces, and nature prompts them In simple and low things to prince it much Beyond the trick of others. This Polydor, The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, who The King his father called Guiderius--Jove! When on my three-foot stool I sit and tell The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out Into my story; say "Thus mine enemy fell, And thus I set my foot on 's neck," even then The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats, Strains his young nerves, and puts himself in posture That acts my words. The younger brother, Cadwal, Once Arviragus, in as like a figure Strikes life into my speech and shows much more His own conceiving. Hark, the game is roused! O Cymbeline, heaven and my conscience knows Thou didst unjustly banish me; whereon, At three and two years old I stole these babes, Thinking to bar thee of succession as Thou refts me of my lands. Euriphile, Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for their mother, And every day do honor to her grave. Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan called, They take for natural father. The game is up! [He exits.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Pisanio and Imogen.] IMOGEN Thou told'st me, when we came from horse, the place Was near at hand. Ne'er longed my mother so To see me first as I have now. Pisanio, man, Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that sigh From th' inward of thee? One but painted thus Would be interpreted a thing perplexed Beyond self-explication. Put thyself Into a havior of less fear, ere wildness Vanquish my staider senses. What's the matter? [Pisanio hands her a paper.] Why tender'st thou that paper to me with A look untender? If 't be summer news, Smile to 't before; if winterly, thou need'st But keep that count'nance still. My husband's hand! That drug-damned Italy hath out-craftied him, And he's at some hard point. Speak, man! Thy tongue May take off some extremity, which to read Would be even mortal to me. PISANIO Please you read, And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing The most disdained of fortune. IMOGEN [reads:] Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the strumpet in my bed, the testimonies whereof lies bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak surmises but from proof as strong as my grief and as certain as I expect my revenge. That part thou, Pisanio, must act for me, if thy faith be not tainted with the breach of hers. Let thine own hands take away her life. I shall give thee opportunity at Milford Haven--she hath my letter for the purpose--where, if thou fear to strike and to make me certain it is done, thou art the pander to her dishonor and equally to me disloyal. PISANIO, [aside] What shall I need to draw my sword? The paper Hath cut her throat already. No, 'tis slander, Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile, whose breath Rides on the posting winds and doth belie All corners of the world. Kings, queens, and states, Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave This viperous slander enters.--What cheer, madam? IMOGEN False to his bed? What is it to be false? To lie in watch there and to think on him? To weep 'twixt clock and clock? If sleep charge nature, To break it with a fearful dream of him And cry myself awake? That's false to 's bed, is it? PISANIO Alas, good lady! IMOGEN I false? Thy conscience witness! Iachimo, Thou didst accuse him of incontinency. Thou then looked'st like a villain. Now methinks Thy favor's good enough. Some jay of Italy, Whose mother was her painting, hath betrayed him. Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion, And, for I am richer than to hang by th' walls, I must be ripped. To pieces with me! O, Men's vows are women's traitors! All good seeming, By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought Put on for villainy, not born where 't grows, But worn a bait for ladies. PISANIO Good madam, hear me. IMOGEN True honest men, being heard like false Aeneas, Were in his time thought false, and Sinon's weeping Did scandal many a holy tear, took pity From most true wretchedness. So thou, Posthumus, Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men; Goodly and gallant shall be false and perjured From thy great fail.--Come, fellow, be thou honest; Do thou thy master's bidding. When thou seest him, A little witness my obedience. Look, I draw the sword myself. [She draws Pisanio's sword from its scabbard and hands it to him.] Take it, and hit The innocent mansion of my love, my heart. Fear not; 'tis empty of all things but grief. Thy master is not there, who was indeed The riches of it. Do his bidding; strike. Thou mayst be valiant in a better cause, But now thou seem'st a coward. PISANIO, [throwing down the sword] Hence, vile instrument! Thou shalt not damn my hand. IMOGEN Why, I must die, And if I do not by thy hand, thou art No servant of thy master's. Against self-slaughter There is a prohibition so divine That cravens my weak hand. Come, here's my heart-- Something's afore 't. Soft, soft! We'll no defense-- Obedient as the scabbard. What is here? [She takes papers from her bodice.] The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus, All turned to heresy? Away, away! [She throws away the letters.] Corrupters of my faith, you shall no more Be stomachers to my heart. Thus may poor fools Believe false teachers. Though those that are betrayed Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor Stands in worse case of woe. And thou, Posthumus, That didst set up My disobedience 'gainst the King my father And make me put into contempt the suits Of princely fellows, shalt hereafter find It is no act of common passage, but A strain of rareness: and I grieve myself To think, when thou shalt be disedged by her That now thou tirest on, how thy memory Will then be panged by me.--Prithee, dispatch. The lamb entreats the butcher. Where's thy knife? Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding When I desire it too. PISANIO O gracious lady, Since I received command to do this business I have not slept one wink. IMOGEN Do 't, and to bed, then. PISANIO I'll wake mine eyeballs out first. IMOGEN Wherefore then Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abused So many miles with a pretense? This place? Mine action and thine own? Our horses' labor? The time inviting thee? The perturbed court For my being absent, whereunto I never Purpose return? Why hast thou gone so far To be unbent when thou hast ta'en thy stand, Th' elected deer before thee? PISANIO But to win time To lose so bad employment, in the which I have considered of a course. Good lady, Hear me with patience. IMOGEN Talk thy tongue weary. Speak. I have heard I am a strumpet, and mine ear, Therein false struck, can take no greater wound, Nor tent to bottom that. But speak. PISANIO Then, madam, I thought you would not back again. IMOGEN Most like, Bringing me here to kill me. PISANIO Not so, neither. But if I were as wise as honest, then My purpose would prove well. It cannot be But that my master is abused. Some villain, Ay, and singular in his art, hath done You both this cursed injury. IMOGEN Some Roman courtesan? PISANIO No, on my life. I'll give but notice you are dead, and send him Some bloody sign of it, for 'tis commanded I should do so. You shall be missed at court, And that will well confirm it. IMOGEN Why, good fellow, What shall I do the while? Where bide? How live? Or in my life what comfort when I am Dead to my husband? PISANIO If you'll back to th' court-- IMOGEN No court, no father, nor no more ado With that harsh, noble, simple nothing, That Cloten, whose love suit hath been to me As fearful as a siege. PISANIO If not at court, Then not in Britain must you bide. IMOGEN Where, then? Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night, Are they not but in Britain? I' th' world's volume Our Britain seems as of it, but not in 't, In a great pool a swan's nest. Prithee think There's livers out of Britain. PISANIO I am most glad You think of other place. Th' ambassador, Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford Haven Tomorrow. Now, if you could wear a mind Dark as your fortune is, and but disguise That which t' appear itself must not yet be But by self-danger, you should tread a course Pretty and full of view: yea, haply near The residence of Posthumus; so nigh, at least, That though his actions were not visible, yet Report should render him hourly to your ear As truly as he moves. IMOGEN O, for such means, Though peril to my modesty, not death on 't, I would adventure. PISANIO Well then, here's the point: You must forget to be a woman; change Command into obedience, fear and niceness-- The handmaids of all women, or, more truly, Woman it pretty self--into a waggish courage, Ready in gibes, quick-answered, saucy, and As quarrelous as the weasel. Nay, you must Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek, Exposing it--but O, the harder heart! Alack, no remedy--to the greedy touch Of common-kissing Titan, and forget Your laborsome and dainty trims, wherein You made great Juno angry. IMOGEN Nay, be brief. I see into thy end and am almost A man already. PISANIO First, make yourself but like one. Forethinking this, I have already fit-- 'Tis in my cloakbag--doublet, hat, hose, all That answer to them. Would you, in their serving, And with what imitation you can borrow From youth of such a season, 'fore noble Lucius Present yourself, desire his service, tell him Wherein you're happy--which will make him know, If that his head have ear in music--doubtless With joy he will embrace you, for he's honorable And, doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad: You have me, rich, and I will never fail Beginning nor supplyment. IMOGEN, [taking the cloakbag] Thou art all the comfort The gods will diet me with. Prithee, away. There's more to be considered, but we'll even All that good time will give us. This attempt I am soldier to, and will abide it with A prince's courage. Away, I prithee. PISANIO Well, madam, we must take a short farewell, Lest, being missed, I be suspected of Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress, Here is a box. I had it from the Queen. [He hands her the box.] What's in 't is precious. If you are sick at sea Or stomach-qualmed at land, a dram of this Will drive away distemper. To some shade, And fit you to your manhood. May the gods Direct you to the best. IMOGEN Amen. I thank thee. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, Lucius, Lords, and Attendants.] CYMBELINE Thus far, and so farewell. LUCIUS Thanks, royal sir. My emperor hath wrote I must from hence, And am right sorry that I must report you My master's enemy. CYMBELINE Our subjects, sir, Will not endure his yoke, and for ourself To show less sovereignty than they must needs Appear unkinglike. LUCIUS So, sir. I desire of you A conduct overland to Milford Haven.-- Madam, all joy befall your Grace--and you. CYMBELINE, [to Lords] My lords, you are appointed for that office. The due of honor in no point omit.-- So, farewell, noble Lucius. LUCIUS, [to Cloten] Your hand, my lord. CLOTEN Receive it friendly, but from this time forth I wear it as your enemy. LUCIUS Sir, the event Is yet to name the winner. Fare you well. CYMBELINE Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords, Till he have crossed the Severn. Happiness! [Exit Lucius and Lords.] QUEEN He goes hence frowning, but it honors us That we have given him cause. CLOTEN 'Tis all the better. Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it. CYMBELINE Lucius hath wrote already to the Emperor How it goes here. It fits us therefore ripely Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness. The powers that he already hath in Gallia Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves His war for Britain. QUEEN 'Tis not sleepy business, But must be looked to speedily and strongly. CYMBELINE Our expectation that it would be thus Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen, Where is our daughter? She hath not appeared Before the Roman, nor to us hath tendered The duty of the day. She looks us like A thing more made of malice than of duty. We have noted it.--Call her before us, for We have been too slight in sufferance. [An Attendant exits.] QUEEN Royal sir, Since the exile of Posthumus, most retired Hath her life been, the cure whereof, my lord, 'Tis time must do. Beseech your Majesty, Forbear sharp speeches to her. She's a lady So tender of rebukes that words are strokes And strokes death to her. [Enter Attendant.] CYMBELINE Where is she, sir? How Can her contempt be answered? ATTENDANT Please you, sir, Her chambers are all locked, and there's no answer That will be given to th' loud'st noise we make. QUEEN My lord, when last I went to visit her, She prayed me to excuse her keeping close; Whereto constrained by her infirmity, She should that duty leave unpaid to you Which daily she was bound to proffer. This She wished me to make known, but our great court Made me to blame in memory. CYMBELINE Her doors locked? Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that which I Fear prove false! [He exits with Attendant.] QUEEN Son, I say, follow the King. CLOTEN That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant I have not seen these two days. QUEEN Go, look after. [Cloten exits.] [Aside.] Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus-- He hath a drug of mine. I pray his absence Proceed by swallowing that, for he believes It is a thing most precious. But for her, Where is she gone? Haply despair hath seized her, Or, winged with fervor of her love, she's flown To her desired Posthumus. Gone she is To death or to dishonor, and my end Can make good use of either. She being down, I have the placing of the British crown. [Enter Cloten.] How now, my son? CLOTEN 'Tis certain she is fled. Go in and cheer the King. He rages; none Dare come about him. QUEEN, [aside] All the better. May This night forestall him of the coming day! [Queen exits, with Attendants.] CLOTEN I love and hate her, for she's fair and royal, And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite Than lady, ladies, woman. From every one The best she hath, and she, of all compounded, Outsells them all. I love her therefore, but Disdaining me and throwing favors on The low Posthumus slanders so her judgment That what's else rare is choked. And in that point I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed, To be revenged upon her. For, when fools Shall-- [Enter Pisanio.] Who is here? What, are you packing, sirrah? Come hither. Ah, you precious pander! Villain, Where is thy lady? In a word, or else Thou art straightway with the fiends. [He draws his sword.] PISANIO O, good my lord-- CLOTEN Where is thy lady? Or, by Jupiter-- I will not ask again. Close villain, I'll have this secret from thy heart or rip Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus, From whose so many weights of baseness cannot A dram of worth be drawn? PISANIO Alas, my lord, How can she be with him? When was she missed? He is in Rome. CLOTEN Where is she, sir? Come nearer. No farther halting. Satisfy me home What is become of her. PISANIO O, my all-worthy lord! CLOTEN All-worthy villain! Discover where thy mistress is at once, At the next word. No more of "worthy lord"! Speak, or thy silence on the instant is Thy condemnation and thy death. PISANIO Then, sir, This paper is the history of my knowledge Touching her flight. [He gives Cloten a paper.] CLOTEN Let's see 't. I will pursue her Even to Augustus' throne. PISANIO, [aside] Or this or perish. She's far enough, and what he learns by this May prove his travail, not her danger. CLOTEN Humh! PISANIO, [aside] I'll write to my lord she's dead. O Imogen, Safe mayst thou wander, safe return again! CLOTEN Sirrah, is this letter true? PISANIO Sir, as I think. CLOTEN It is Posthumus' hand, I know 't. Sirrah, if thou wouldst not be a villain, but do me true service, undergo those employments wherein I should have cause to use thee with a serious industry-- that is, what villainy soe'er I bid thee do to perform it directly and truly--I would think thee an honest man. Thou shouldst neither want my means for thy relief nor my voice for thy preferment. PISANIO Well, my good lord. CLOTEN Wilt thou serve me? For since patiently and constantly thou hast stuck to the bare fortune of that beggar Posthumus, thou canst not in the course of gratitude but be a diligent follower of mine. Wilt thou serve me? PISANIO Sir, I will. CLOTEN Give me thy hand. Here's my purse. [Gives him money.] Hast any of thy late master's garments in thy possession? PISANIO I have, my lord, at my lodging the same suit he wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress. CLOTEN The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit hither. Let it be thy first service. Go. PISANIO I shall, my lord. [He exits.] CLOTEN Meet thee at Milford Haven!--I forgot to ask him one thing; I'll remember 't anon. Even there, thou villain Posthumus, will I kill thee. I would these garments were come. She said upon a time-- the bitterness of it I now belch from my heart-- that she held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect than my noble and natural person, together with the adornment of my qualities. With that suit upon my back will I ravish her. First, kill him, and in her eyes. There shall she see my valor, which will then be a torment to her contempt. He on the ground, my speech of insultment ended on his dead body, and when my lust hath dined--which, as I say, to vex her I will execute in the clothes that she so praised--to the court I'll knock her back, foot her home again. She hath despised me rejoicingly, and I'll be merry in my revenge. [Enter Pisanio with the clothes.] Be those the garments? PISANIO Ay, my noble lord. CLOTEN How long is 't since she went to Milford Haven? PISANIO She can scarce be there yet. CLOTEN Bring this apparel to my chamber; that is the second thing that I have commanded thee. The third is that thou wilt be a voluntary mute to my design. Be but duteous, and true preferment shall tender itself to thee. My revenge is now at Milford. Would I had wings to follow it! Come, and be true. [He exits.] PISANIO Thou bidd'st me to my loss, for true to thee Were to prove false, which I will never be, To him that is most true. To Milford go, And find not her whom thou pursuest. Flow, flow, You heavenly blessings, on her. This fool's speed Be crossed with slowness. Labor be his meed. [He exits.] Scene 6 ======= [Enter Imogen alone, dressed as a boy, Fidele.] IMOGEN I see a man's life is a tedious one. I have tired myself, and for two nights together Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick But that my resolution helps me. Milford, When from the mountain top Pisanio showed thee, Thou wast within a ken. O Jove, I think Foundations fly the wretched--such, I mean, Where they should be relieved. Two beggars told me I could not miss my way. Will poor folks lie, That have afflictions on them, knowing 'tis A punishment or trial? Yes. No wonder, When rich ones scarce tell true. To lapse in fullness Is sorer than to lie for need, and falsehood Is worse in kings than beggars. My dear lord, Thou art one o' th' false ones. Now I think on thee, My hunger's gone; but even before, I was At point to sink for food. But what is this? Here is a path to 't. 'Tis some savage hold. I were best not call; I dare not call. Yet famine, Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant. Plenty and peace breeds cowards; hardness ever Of hardiness is mother.--Ho! Who's here? If anything that's civil, speak; if savage, Take or lend. Ho!--No answer? Then I'll enter. Best draw my sword; an if mine enemy But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely look on 't. [She draws her sword.] Such a foe, good heavens! [She exits, as into the cave.] [Enter Belarius as Morgan, Guiderius as Polydor, and Arviragus as Cadwal.] BELARIUS, [as Morgan] You, Polydor, have proved best woodman and Are master of the feast. Cadwal and I Will play the cook and servant; 'tis our match. The sweat of industry would dry and die But for the end it works to. Come, our stomachs Will make what's homely savory. Weariness Can snore upon the flint when resty sloth Finds the down pillow hard. Now peace be here, Poor house, that keep'st thyself. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] I am throughly weary. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] There is cold meat i' th' cave. We'll browse on that Whilst what we have killed be cooked. BELARIUS, [as Morgan, looking into the cave] Stay, come not in! But that it eats our victuals, I should think Here were a fairy. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] What's the matter, sir? BELARIUS, [as Morgan] By Jupiter, an angel! Or, if not, An earthly paragon. Behold divineness No elder than a boy. [Enter Imogen as Fidele.] IMOGEN, [as Fidele] Good masters, harm me not. Before I entered here, I called, and thought To have begged or bought what I have took. Good troth, I have stol'n naught, nor would not, though I had found Gold strewed i' th' floor. Here's money for my meat. [She offers money.] I would have left it on the board so soon As I had made my meal, and parted With prayers for the provider. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] Money, youth? ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] All gold and silver rather turn to dirt, As 'tis no better reckoned but of those Who worship dirty gods. IMOGEN, [as Fidele] I see you're angry. Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should Have died had I not made it. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] Whither bound? IMOGEN, [as Fidele] To Milford Haven. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] What's your name? IMOGEN, [as Fidele] Fidele, sir. I have a kinsman who Is bound for Italy. He embarked at Milford, To whom being going, almost spent with hunger, I am fall'n in this offense. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] Prithee, fair youth, Think us no churls, nor measure our good minds By this rude place we live in. Well encountered! 'Tis almost night; you shall have better cheer Ere you depart, and thanks to stay and eat it.-- Boys, bid him welcome. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] Were you a woman, youth, I should woo hard but be your groom in honesty, Ay, bid for you as I do buy. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] I'll make 't my comfort He is a man. I'll love him as my brother.-- And such a welcome as I'd give to him After long absence, such is yours. Most welcome. Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst friends. IMOGEN, [as Fidele] 'Mongst friends? If brothers--[(aside)] Would it had been so, that they Had been my father's sons! Then had my prize Been less, and so more equal ballasting To thee, Posthumus. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] He wrings at some distress. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] Would I could free 't! ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] Or I, whate'er it be, What pain it cost, what danger. Gods! BELARIUS, [as Morgan] Hark, boys. [They talk aside.] IMOGEN Great men That had a court no bigger than this cave, That did attend themselves and had the virtue Which their own conscience sealed them, laying by That nothing-gift of differing multitudes, Could not outpeer these twain. Pardon me, gods! I'd change my sex to be companion with them, Since Leonatus false. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] It shall be so. Boys, we'll go dress our hunt.--Fair youth, come in. Discourse is heavy, fasting. When we have supped, We'll mannerly demand thee of thy story So far as thou wilt speak it. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] Pray, draw near. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] The night to th' owl and morn to th' lark less welcome. IMOGEN, [as Fidele] Thanks, sir. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] I pray, draw near. [They exit.] Scene 7 ======= [Enter two Roman Senators, and Tribunes.] FIRST SENATOR This is the tenor of the Emperor's writ: That since the common men are now in action 'Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians, And that the legions now in Gallia are Full weak to undertake our wars against The fall'n-off Britons, that we do incite The gentry to this business. He creates Lucius proconsul; and to you the tribunes For this immediate levy, he commends His absolute commission. Long live Caesar! TRIBUNE Is Lucius general of the forces? SECOND SENATOR Ay. TRIBUNE Remaining now in Gallia? FIRST SENATOR With those legions Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy Must be supplyant. The words of your commission Will tie you to the numbers and the time Of their dispatch. TRIBUNE We will discharge our duty. [They exit.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Cloten alone, dressed in Posthumus's garments.] CLOTEN I am near to th' place where they should meet, if Pisanio have mapped it truly. How fit his garments serve me! Why should his mistress, who was made by him that made the tailor, not be fit too? The rather, saving reverence of the word, for 'tis said a woman's fitness comes by fits. Therein I must play the workman. I dare speak it to myself, for it is not vainglory for a man and his glass to confer in his own chamber. I mean, the lines of my body are as well drawn as his, no less young, more strong; not beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in the advantage of the time, above him in birth, alike conversant in general services, and more remarkable in single oppositions. Yet this imperceiverant thing loves him in my despite. What mortality is! Posthumus, thy head, which now is growing upon thy shoulders, shall within this hour be off, thy mistress enforced, thy garments cut to pieces before thy face; and all this done, spurn her home to her father, who may haply be a little angry or my so rough usage. But my mother, having power of his testiness, shall turn all into my commendations. My horse is tied up safe. Out, sword, and to a sore purpose. Fortune, put them into my hand! This is the very description of their meeting place, and the fellow dares not deceive me. [He draws his sword and exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Belarius as Morgan, Guiderius as Polydor, Arviragus as Cadwal, and Imogen as Fidele, from the cave.] BELARIUS, [as Morgan, to Fidele] You are not well. Remain here in the cave. We'll come to you after hunting. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal, to Fidele] Brother, stay here. Are we not brothers? IMOGEN, [as Fidele] So man and man should be, But clay and clay differs in dignity, Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor, to Morgan and Cadwal] Go you to hunting. I'll abide with him. IMOGEN, [as Fidele] So sick I am not, yet I am not well; But not so citizen a wanton as To seem to die ere sick. So please you, leave me. Stick to your journal course. The breach of custom Is breach of all. I am ill, but your being by me Cannot amend me. Society is no comfort To one not sociable. I am not very sick, Since I can reason of it. Pray you trust me here-- I'll rob none but myself--and let me die, Stealing so poorly. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] I love thee--I have spoke it-- How much the quantity, the weight as much As I do love my father. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] What? How, how? ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] If it be sin to say so, sir, I yoke me In my good brother's fault. I know not why I love this youth, and I have heard you say Love's reason's without reason. The bier at door, And a demand who is 't shall die, I'd say "My father, not this youth." BELARIUS, [aside] O, noble strain! O, worthiness of nature, breed of greatness! Cowards father cowards and base things sire base; Nature hath meal and bran, contempt and grace. I'm not their father, yet who this should be Doth miracle itself, loved before me.-- 'Tis the ninth hour o' th' morn. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal, to Fidele] Brother, farewell. IMOGEN, [as Fidele] I wish you sport. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] You health.--So please you, sir. IMOGEN, [aside] These are kind creatures. Gods, what lies I have heard! Our courtiers say all's savage but at court; Experience, O, thou disprov'st report! Th' imperious seas breeds monsters; for the dish Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish. I am sick still, heart-sick. Pisanio, I'll now taste of thy drug. [She swallows the drug.] GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor, to Morgan and Cadwal] I could not stir him. He said he was gentle but unfortunate, Dishonestly afflicted but yet honest. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] Thus did he answer me, yet said hereafter I might know more. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] To th' field, to th' field! [To Fidele.] We'll leave you for this time. Go in and rest. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] We'll not be long away. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] Pray, be not sick, For you must be our huswife. IMOGEN, [as Fidele] Well or ill, I am bound to you. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] And shalt be ever. [Imogen exits as into the cave.] This youth, howe'er distressed, appears he hath had Good ancestors. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] How angel-like he sings! GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] But his neat cookery! He cut our roots in characters And sauced our broths as Juno had been sick And he her dieter. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] Nobly he yokes A smiling with a sigh, as if the sigh Was that it was for not being such a smile, The smile mocking the sigh that it would fly From so divine a temple to commix With winds that sailors rail at. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] I do note That grief and patience, rooted in them both, Mingle their spurs together. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] Grow, patience, And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine His perishing root with the increasing vine! BELARIUS, [as Morgan] It is great morning. Come, away. Who's there? [Enter Cloten.] CLOTEN, [to himself] I cannot find those runagates. That villain Hath mocked me. I am faint. BELARIUS, [as Morgan, to Polydor and Cadwal] "Those runagates"? Means he not us? I partly know him. 'Tis Cloten, the son o' th' Queen. I fear some ambush. I saw him not these many years, and yet I know 'tis he. We are held as outlaws. Hence. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] He is but one. You and my brother search What companies are near. Pray you, away. Let me alone with him. [Belarius and Arviragus exit.] CLOTEN Soft, what are you That fly me thus? Some villain mountaineers? I have heard of such.--What slave art thou? GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] A thing More slavish did I ne'er than answering A slave without a knock. CLOTEN Thou art a robber, A lawbreaker, a villain. Yield thee, thief. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] To who? To thee? What art thou? Have not I An arm as big as thine? A heart as big? Thy words, I grant, are bigger, for I wear not My dagger in my mouth. Say what thou art, Why I should yield to thee. CLOTEN Thou villain base, Know'st me not by my clothes? GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] No, nor thy tailor, rascal. Who is thy grandfather? He made those clothes, Which, as it seems, make thee. CLOTEN Thou precious varlet, My tailor made them not. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] Hence then, and thank The man that gave them thee. Thou art some fool. I am loath to beat thee. CLOTEN Thou injurious thief, Hear but my name, and tremble. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] What's thy name? CLOTEN Cloten, thou villain. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name, I cannot tremble at it. Were it Toad, or Adder, Spider, 'Twould move me sooner. CLOTEN To thy further fear, Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know I am son to th' Queen. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] I am sorry for 't, not seeming So worthy as thy birth. CLOTEN Art not afeard? GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] Those that I reverence, those I fear--the wise; At fools I laugh, not fear them. CLOTEN Die the death! When I have slain thee with my proper hand, I'll follow those that even now fled hence And on the gates of Lud's Town set your heads. Yield, rustic mountaineer! [They fight and exit.] [Enter Belarius as Morgan and Arviragus as Cadwal.] BELARIUS, [as Morgan] No company's abroad? ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] None in the world. You did mistake him sure. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] I cannot tell. Long is it since I saw him, But time hath nothing blurred those lines of favor Which then he wore. The snatches in his voice And burst of speaking were as his. I am absolute 'Twas very Cloten. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] In this place we left them. I wish my brother make good time with him, You say he is so fell. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] Being scarce made up, I mean to man, he had not apprehension Of roaring terrors; for defect of judgment Is oft the cause of fear. [Enter Guiderius as Polydor, carrying Cloten's head.] But see, thy brother. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] This Cloten was a fool, an empty purse; There was no money in 't. Not Hercules Could have knocked out his brains, for he had none. Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne My head as I do his. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] What hast thou done? GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] I am perfect what: cut off one Cloten's head, Son to the Queen, after his own report, Who called me traitor mountaineer, and swore With his own single hand he'd take us in, Displace our heads where, thank the gods, they grow, And set them on Lud's Town. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] We are all undone. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] Why, worthy father, what have we to lose But that he swore to take, our lives? The law Protects not us. Then why should we be tender To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us, Play judge and executioner all himself, For we do fear the law? What company Discover you abroad? BELARIUS, [as Morgan] No single soul Can we set eye on, but in all safe reason He must have some attendants. Though his humor Was nothing but mutation--ay, and that From one bad thing to worse--not frenzy, Not absolute madness could so far have raved To bring him here alone. Although perhaps It may be heard at court that such as we Cave here, hunt here, are outlaws, and in time May make some stronger head, the which he hearing-- As it is like him--might break out and swear He'd fetch us in, yet is 't not probable To come alone, either he so undertaking Or they so suffering. Then on good ground we fear, If we do fear this body hath a tail More perilous than the head. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] Let ord'nance Come as the gods foresay it. Howsoe'er, My brother hath done well. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] I had no mind To hunt this day. The boy Fidele's sickness Did make my way long forth. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] With his own sword, Which he did wave against my throat, I have ta'en His head from him. I'll throw 't into the creek Behind our rock, and let it to the sea And tell the fishes he's the Queen's son, Cloten. That's all I reck. [He exits.] BELARIUS, [as Morgan] I fear 'twill be revenged. Would, Polydor, thou hadst not done 't, though valor Becomes thee well enough. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] Would I had done 't, So the revenge alone pursued me. Polydor, I love thee brotherly, but envy much Thou hast robbed me of this deed. I would revenges That possible strength might meet would seek us through And put us to our answer. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] Well, 'tis done. We'll hunt no more today, nor seek for danger Where there's no profit. I prithee, to our rock. You and Fidele play the cooks. I'll stay Till hasty Polydor return, and bring him To dinner presently. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] Poor sick Fidele. I'll willingly to him. To gain his color I'd let a parish of such Clotens blood, And praise myself for charity. [He exits.] BELARIUS O thou goddess, Thou divine Nature, thou thyself thou blazon'st In these two princely boys! They are as gentle As zephyrs blowing below the violet, Not wagging his sweet head; and yet as rough, Their royal blood enchafed, as the rud'st wind That by the top doth take the mountain pine And make him stoop to th' vale. 'Tis wonder That an invisible instinct should frame them To royalty unlearned, honor untaught, Civility not seen from other, valor That wildly grows in them but yields a crop As if it had been sowed. Yet still it's strange What Cloten's being here to us portends, Or what his death will bring us. [Enter Guiderius as Polydor.] GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] Where's my brother? I have sent Cloten's clotpole down the stream In embassy to his mother. His body's hostage For his return. [Solemn music.] BELARIUS, [as Morgan] My ingenious instrument! Hark, Polydor, it sounds! But what occasion Hath Cadwal now to give it motion? Hark. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] Is he at home? BELARIUS, [as Morgan] He went hence even now. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] What does he mean? Since death of my dear'st mother It did not speak before. All solemn things Should answer solemn accidents. The matter? Triumphs for nothing and lamenting toys Is jollity for apes and grief for boys. Is Cadwal mad? [Enter Arviragus as Cadwal, with Imogen as dead, bearing her in his arms.] BELARIUS, [as Morgan] Look, here he comes, And brings the dire occasion in his arms Of what we blame him for. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] The bird is dead That we have made so much on. I had rather Have skipped from sixteen years of age to sixty, To have turned my leaping time into a crutch, Than have seen this. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] O sweetest, fairest lily! My brother wears thee not the one half so well As when thou grew'st thyself. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] O melancholy, Whoever yet could sound thy bottom, find The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare Might eas'liest harbor in?--Thou blessed thing, Jove knows what man thou mightst have made; but I, Thou died'st, a most rare boy, of melancholy.-- How found you him? ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] Stark, as you see; Thus smiling, as some fly had tickled slumber, Not as Death's dart being laughed at; his right cheek Reposing on a cushion. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] Where? ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] O' th' floor, His arms thus leagued. I thought he slept, and put My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness Answered my steps too loud. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] Why, he but sleeps. If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed; With female fairies will his tomb be haunted-- And worms will not come to thee. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] With fairest flowers, Whilst summer lasts and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave. Thou shalt not lack The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose; nor The azured harebell, like thy veins; no, nor The leaf of eglantine whom, not to slander, Out-sweetened not thy breath. The ruddock would With charitable bill--O bill, sore shaming Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie Without a monument--bring thee all this, Yea, and furred moss besides, when flowers are none To winter-ground thy corse. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] Prithee, have done, And do not play in wench-like words with that Which is so serious. Let us bury him And not protract with admiration what Is now due debt. To th' grave. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] Say, where shall 's lay him? GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] By good Euriphile, our mother. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] Be 't so. And let us, Polydor, though now our voices Have got the mannish crack, sing him to th' ground As once to our mother; use like note and words, Save that "Euriphile" must be "Fidele." GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] Cadwal, I cannot sing. I'll weep, and word it with thee, For notes of sorrow, out of tune, are worse Than priests and fanes that lie. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] We'll speak it then. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] Great griefs, I see, med'cine the less, for Cloten Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys, And though he came our enemy, remember He was paid for that. Though mean and mighty, Rotting together, have one dust, yet reverence, That angel of the world, doth make distinction Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princely, And though you took his life as being our foe, Yet bury him as a prince. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor, to Morgan] Pray you fetch him hither. Thersites' body is as good as Ajax' When neither are alive. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal, to Morgan] If you'll go fetch him, We'll say our song the whilst.--Brother, begin. [Belarius exits.] GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to th' east; My father hath a reason for 't. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] 'Tis true. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] Come on then, and remove him. [They move Imogen's body.] ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] So, begin. Song. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] Fear no more the heat o' th' sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone and ta'en thy wages. Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] Fear no more the frown o' th' great; Thou art past the tyrant's stroke. Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak. The scepter, learning, physic must All follow this and come to dust. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] Fear no more the lightning flash. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] Nor th' all-dreaded thunderstone. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] Fear not slander, censure rash; ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] Thou hast finished joy and moan. BOTH All lovers young, all lovers must Consign to thee and come to dust. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] No exorciser harm thee, ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] Nor no witchcraft charm thee. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] Ghost unlaid forbear thee. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] Nothing ill come near thee. BOTH Quiet consummation have, And renowned be thy grave. [Enter Belarius as Morgan, with the body of Cloten.] GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] We have done our obsequies. Come, lay him down. [Cloten's body is placed by Imogen's.] BELARIUS, [as Morgan] Here's a few flowers, but 'bout midnight more. The herbs that have on them cold dew o' th' night Are strewings fitt'st for graves. Upon their faces.-- You were as flowers, now withered. Even so These herblets shall, which we upon you strew.-- Come on, away; apart upon our knees. The ground that gave them first has them again. Their pleasures here are past; so is their pain. [They exit.] [Imogen awakes.] IMOGEN Yes, sir, to Milford Haven. Which is the way? I thank you. By yond bush? Pray, how far thither? Ods pittikins, can it be six mile yet? I have gone all night. Faith, I'll lie down and sleep. [She sees Cloten's headless body.] But soft! No bedfellow? O gods and goddesses! These flowers are like the pleasures of the world, This bloody man the care on 't. I hope I dream, For so I thought I was a cave-keeper And cook to honest creatures. But 'tis not so. 'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing, Which the brain makes of fumes. Our very eyes Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Good faith, I tremble still with fear; but if there be Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity As a wren's eye, feared gods, a part of it! The dream's here still. Even when I wake it is Without me as within me, not imagined, felt. A headless man? The garments of Posthumus? I know the shape of 's leg. This is his hand, His foot Mercurial, his Martial thigh, The brawns of Hercules; but his Jovial face-- Murder in heaven! How? 'Tis gone. Pisanio, All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks, And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou, Conspired with that irregulous devil Cloten, Hath here cut off my lord. To write and read Be henceforth treacherous. Damned Pisanio Hath with his forged letters--damned Pisanio-- From this most bravest vessel of the world Struck the maintop. O Posthumus, alas, Where is thy head? Where's that? Ay me, where's that? Pisanio might have killed thee at the heart And left this head on. How should this be? Pisanio? 'Tis he and Cloten. Malice and lucre in them Have laid this woe here. O, 'tis pregnant, pregnant! The drug he gave me, which he said was precious And cordial to me, have I not found it Murd'rous to th' senses? That confirms it home. This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten. O, Give color to my pale cheek with thy blood, That we the horrider may seem to those Which chance to find us. O my lord! My lord! [Enter Lucius, Captains, Soldiers, and a Soothsayer.] CAPTAIN To them the legions garrisoned in Gallia, After your will, have crossed the sea, attending You here at Milford Haven with your ships. They are here in readiness. LUCIUS But what from Rome? CAPTAIN The Senate hath stirred up the confiners And gentlemen of Italy, most willing spirits That promise noble service, and they come Under the conduct of bold Iachimo, Siena's brother. LUCIUS When expect you them? CAPTAIN With the next benefit o' th' wind. LUCIUS This forwardness Makes our hopes fair. Command our present numbers Be mustered; bid the Captains look to 't.--Now, sir, What have you dreamed of late of this war's purpose? SOOTHSAYER Last night the very gods showed me a vision-- I fast and prayed for their intelligence--thus: I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, winged From the spongy south to this part of the west, There vanished in the sunbeams, which portends-- Unless my sins abuse my divination-- Success to th' Roman host. LUCIUS Dream often so, And never false.--Soft, ho, what trunk is here Without his top? The ruin speaks that sometime It was a worthy building. How, a page? Or dead or sleeping on him? But dead rather, For nature doth abhor to make his bed With the defunct or sleep upon the dead. Let's see the boy's face. CAPTAIN He's alive, my lord. LUCIUS He'll then instruct us of this body.--Young one, Inform us of thy fortunes, for it seems They crave to be demanded. Who is this Thou mak'st thy bloody pillow? Or who was he That, otherwise than noble nature did, Hath altered that good picture? What's thy interest In this sad wrack? How came 't? Who is 't? What art thou? IMOGEN, [as Fidele] I am nothing; or if not, Nothing to be were better. This was my master, A very valiant Briton, and a good, That here by mountaineers lies slain. Alas, There is no more such masters. I may wander From east to occident, cry out for service, Try many, all good, serve truly, never Find such another master. LUCIUS 'Lack, good youth, Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining than Thy master in bleeding. Say his name, good friend. IMOGEN, [as Fidele] Richard du Champ. [Aside.] If I do lie and do No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope They'll pardon it.--Say you, sir? LUCIUS Thy name? IMOGEN, [as Fidele] Fidele, sir. LUCIUS Thou dost approve thyself the very same; Thy name well fits thy faith, thy faith thy name. Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say Thou shalt be so well mastered, but be sure No less beloved. The Roman Emperor's letters Sent by a consul to me should not sooner Than thine own worth prefer thee. Go with me. IMOGEN, [as Fidele] I'll follow, sir. But first, an 't please the gods, I'll hide my master from the flies as deep As these poor pickaxes can dig; and when With wild-wood leaves and weeds I ha' strewed his grave And on it said a century of prayers, Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep and sigh, And leaving so his service, follow you, So please you entertain me. LUCIUS Ay, good youth, And rather father thee than master thee.--My friends, The boy hath taught us manly duties. Let us Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can, And make him with our pikes and partisans A grave. Come, arm him.--Boy, he's preferred By thee to us, and he shall be interred As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes. Some falls are means the happier to arise. [They exit, the Soldiers carrying Cloten's body.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Cymbeline, Lords, Pisanio, and Attendants.] CYMBELINE Again, and bring me word how 'tis with her. [An Attendant exits.] A fever, with the absence of her son; A madness, of which her life's in danger. Heavens, How deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen, The great part of my comfort, gone; my queen Upon a desperate bed, and in a time When fearful wars point at me; her son gone, So needful for this present. It strikes me past The hope of comfort.--But for thee, fellow, Who needs must know of her departure and Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee By a sharp torture. PISANIO Sir, my life is yours. I humbly set it at your will. But for my mistress, I nothing know where she remains, why gone, Nor when she purposes return. Beseech your Highness, Hold me your loyal servant. LORD Good my liege, The day that she was missing, he was here. I dare be bound he's true and shall perform All parts of his subjection loyally. For Cloten, There wants no diligence in seeking him, And will no doubt be found. CYMBELINE The time is troublesome. [To Pisanio.] We'll slip you for a season, but our jealousy Does yet depend. LORD So please your Majesty, The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn, Are landed on your coast with a supply Of Roman gentlemen by the Senate sent. CYMBELINE Now for the counsel of my son and queen! I am amazed with matter. LORD Good my liege, Your preparation can affront no less Than what you hear of. Come more, for more you're ready. The want is but to put those powers in motion That long to move. CYMBELINE I thank you. Let's withdraw, And meet the time as it seeks us. We fear not What can from Italy annoy us, but We grieve at chances here. Away. [They exit. Pisanio remains.] PISANIO I heard no letter from my master since I wrote him Imogen was slain. 'Tis strange. Nor hear I from my mistress, who did promise To yield me often tidings. Neither know I What is betid to Cloten, but remain Perplexed in all. The heavens still must work. Wherein I am false I am honest; not true, to be true. These present wars shall find I love my country, Even to the note o' th' King, or I'll fall in them. All other doubts, by time let them be cleared. Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered. [He exits.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Belarius as Morgan, Guiderius as Polydor, and Arviragus as Cadwal.] GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] The noise is round about us. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] Let us from it. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it From action and adventure? GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] Nay, what hope Have we in hiding us? This way the Romans Must or for Britons slay us or receive us For barbarous and unnatural revolts During their use, and slay us after. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] Sons, We'll higher to the mountains, there secure us. To the King's party there's no going. Newness Of Cloten's death--we being not known, not mustered Among the bands--may drive us to a render Where we have lived, and so extort from 's that Which we have done, whose answer would be death Drawn on with torture. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] This is, sir, a doubt In such a time nothing becoming you Nor satisfying us. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] It is not likely That when they hear the Roman horses neigh, Behold their quartered fires, have both their eyes And ears so cloyed importantly as now, That they will waste their time upon our note, To know from whence we are. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] O, I am known Of many in the army. Many years, Though Cloten then but young, you see not wore him From my remembrance. And besides, the King Hath not deserved my service nor your loves, Who find in my exile the want of breeding, The certainty of this hard life, aye hopeless To have the courtesy your cradle promised, But to be still hot summer's tanlings and The shrinking slaves of winter. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] Than be so Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to th' army. I and my brother are not known; yourself So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown, Cannot be questioned. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] By this sun that shines, I'll thither. What thing is 't that I never Did see man die, scarce ever looked on blood But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison! Never bestrid a horse save one that had A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel Nor iron on his heel! I am ashamed To look upon the holy sun, to have The benefit of his blest beams, remaining So long a poor unknown. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] By heavens, I'll go! If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave, I'll take the better care, but if you will not, The hazard therefore due fall on me by The hands of Romans. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] So say I. Amen. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] No reason I--since of your lives you set So slight a valuation--should reserve My cracked one to more care. Have with you, boys! If in your country wars you chance to die, That is my bed, too, lads, and there I'll lie. Lead, lead. [Aside.] The time seems long; their blood thinks scorn Till it fly out and show them princes born. [They exit.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Posthumus alone, wearing Roman garments and carrying a bloody cloth.] POSTHUMUS Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee, for I wished Thou shouldst be colored thus. You married ones, If each of you should take this course, how many Must murder wives much better than themselves For wrying but a little! O Pisanio, Every good servant does not all commands; No bond but to do just ones. Gods, if you Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults, I never Had lived to put on this; so had you saved The noble Imogen to repent, and struck Me, wretch more worth your vengeance. But, alack, You snatch some hence for little faults; that's love, To have them fall no more; you some permit To second ills with ills, each elder worse, And make them dread it, to the doers' thrift. But Imogen is your own. Do your best wills, And make me blest to obey. I am brought hither Among th' Italian gentry, and to fight Against my lady's kingdom. 'Tis enough That, Britain, I have killed thy mistress. Peace, I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heavens, Hear patiently my purpose. I'll disrobe me Of these Italian weeds and suit myself As does a Briton peasant. So I'll fight Against the part I come with; so I'll die For thee, O Imogen, even for whom my life Is every breath a death. And thus, unknown, Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril Myself I'll dedicate. Let me make men know More valor in me than my habits show. Gods, put the strength o' th' Leonati in me. To shame the guise o' th' world, I will begin The fashion: less without and more within. [He exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Lucius, Iachimo, and the Roman army at one door, and the Briton army at another, Leonatus Posthumus following like a poor soldier. They march over and go out. Then enter again, in skirmish, Iachimo and Posthumus. He vanquisheth and disarmeth Iachimo, and then leaves him.] IACHIMO The heaviness and guilt within my bosom Takes off my manhood. I have belied a lady, The Princess of this country, and the air on 't Revengingly enfeebles me; or could this carl, A very drudge of nature's, have subdued me In my profession? Knighthoods and honors, borne As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn. If that thy gentry, Britain, go before This lout as he exceeds our lords, the odds Is that we scarce are men and you are gods. [He exits.] [The battle continues. The Britons fly; Cymbeline is taken. Then enter, to his rescue, Belarius as Morgan, Guiderius as Polydor, and Arviragus as Cadwal.] BELARIUS, [as Morgan] Stand, stand! We have th' advantage of the ground. The lane is guarded. Nothing routs us but The villainy of our fears. GUIDERIUS, as Polydor, and ARVIRAGUS, as Cadwal Stand, stand, and fight! [Enter Posthumus, and seconds the Britons. They rescue Cymbeline and exit. Then enter Lucius, Iachimo, and Imogen as Fidele.] LUCIUS, [to Fidele] Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself, For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such As war were hoodwinked. IACHIMO 'Tis their fresh supplies. LUCIUS It is a day turned strangely. Or betimes Let's reinforce, or fly. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Posthumus and a Briton Lord.] LORD Cam'st thou from where they made the stand? POSTHUMUS I did, Though you, it seems, come from the fliers. LORD Ay. POSTHUMUS No blame be to you, sir, for all was lost, But that the heavens fought. The King himself Of his wings destitute, the army broken, And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying Through a strait lane; the enemy full-hearted, Lolling the tongue with slaught'ring, having work More plentiful than tools to do 't, struck down Some mortally, some slightly touched, some falling Merely through fear, that the strait pass was dammed With dead men hurt behind and cowards living To die with lengthened shame. LORD Where was this lane? POSTHUMUS Close by the battle, ditched, and walled with turf; Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier, An honest one, I warrant, who deserved So long a breeding as his white beard came to, In doing this for 's country. Athwart the lane, He with two striplings--lads more like to run The country base than to commit such slaughter, With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer Than those for preservation cased or shame-- Made good the passage, cried to those that fled "Our Britain's harts die flying, not our men. To darkness fleet souls that fly backwards. Stand, Or we are Romans and will give you that Like beasts which you shun beastly, and may save But to look back in frown. Stand, stand!" These three, Three thousand confident, in act as many-- For three performers are the file when all The rest do nothing--with this word "Stand, stand," Accommodated by the place, more charming With their own nobleness, which could have turned A distaff to a lance, gilded pale looks, Part shame, part spirit renewed; that some, turned coward But by example--O, a sin in war, Damned in the first beginners!--gan to look The way that they did and to grin like lions Upon the pikes o' th' hunters. Then began A stop i' th' chaser, a retire; anon A rout, confusion thick. Forthwith they fly Chickens the way which they stooped eagles; slaves The strides they victors made; and now our cowards, Like fragments in hard voyages, became The life o' th' need. Having found the backdoor open Of the unguarded hearts, heavens, how they wound! Some slain before, some dying, some their friends O'erborne i' th' former wave, ten chased by one, Are now each one the slaughterman of twenty. Those that would die or ere resist are grown The mortal bugs o' th' field. LORD This was strange chance: A narrow lane, an old man, and two boys. POSTHUMUS Nay, do not wonder at it. You are made Rather to wonder at the things you hear Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon 't And vent it for a mock'ry? Here is one: "Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane, Preserved the Britons, was the Romans' bane." LORD Nay, be not angry, sir. POSTHUMUS 'Lack, to what end? Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his friend; For if he'll do as he is made to do, I know he'll quickly fly my friendship too. You have put me into rhyme. LORD Farewell. You're angry. [He exits.] POSTHUMUS Still going? This is a lord! O noble misery, To be i' th' field and ask "What news?" of me! Today how many would have given their honors To have saved their carcasses, took heel to do 't, And yet died too! I, in mine own woe charmed, Could not find Death where I did hear him groan, Nor feel him where he struck. Being an ugly monster, 'Tis strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds, Sweet words, or hath more ministers than we That draw his knives i' th' war. Well, I will find him; For being now a favorer to the Briton, No more a Briton. [(He removes his peasant costume.)] I have resumed again The part I came in. Fight I will no more, But yield me to the veriest hind that shall Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is Here made by th' Roman; great the answer be Britons must take. For me, my ransom's death. On either side I come to spend my breath, Which neither here I'll keep nor bear again, But end it by some means for Imogen. [Enter two Briton Captains, and Soldiers.] FIRST CAPTAIN Great Jupiter be praised, Lucius is taken! 'Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels. SECOND CAPTAIN There was a fourth man in a silly habit That gave th' affront with them. FIRST CAPTAIN So 'tis reported, But none of 'em can be found.--Stand. Who's there? POSTHUMUS A Roman, Who had not now been drooping here if seconds Had answered him. SECOND CAPTAIN Lay hands on him. A dog, A leg of Rome shall not return to tell What crows have pecked them here. He brags his service As if he were of note. Bring him to th' King. [Enter Cymbeline, Attendants, Belarius as Morgan, Guiderius as Polydor, Arviragus as Cadwal, Pisanio, Soldiers, and Roman captives. The Captains present Posthumus to Cymbeline, who delivers him over to a Jailer.] [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Posthumus in chains, and two Jailers.] JAILER You shall not now be stol'n; you have locks upon you. So graze as you find pasture. SECOND JAILER Ay, or a stomach. [Jailers exit.] POSTHUMUS Most welcome, bondage, for thou art a way, I think, to liberty. Yet am I better Than one that's sick o' th' gout, since he had rather Groan so in perpetuity than be cured By th' sure physician, Death, who is the key T' unbar these locks. My conscience, thou art fettered More than my shanks and wrists. You good gods, give me The penitent instrument to pick that bolt, Then free forever. Is 't enough I am sorry? So children temporal fathers do appease; Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent, I cannot do it better than in gyves, Desired more than constrained. To satisfy, If of my freedom 'tis the main part, take No stricter render of me than my all. I know you are more clement than vile men, Who of their broken debtors take a third, A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again On their abatement. That's not my desire. For Imogen's dear life take mine; and though 'Tis not so dear, yet 'tis a life; you coined it. 'Tween man and man they weigh not every stamp; Though light, take pieces for the figure's sake; You rather mine, being yours. And so, great powers, If you will take this audit, take this life And cancel these cold bonds. O Imogen, I'll speak to thee in silence. [He lies down and sleeps.] [Solemn music. Enter, as in an apparition, Sicilius Leonatus, father to Posthumus, an old man attired like a warrior; leading in his hand an ancient matron, his wife and mother to Posthumus, with music before them. Then, after other music, follows the two young Leonati, brothers to Posthumus, with wounds as they died in the wars. They circle Posthumus round as he lies sleeping.] SICILIUS No more, thou Thunder-master, show Thy spite on mortal flies. With Mars fall out, with Juno chide, That thy adulteries Rates and revenges. Hath my poor boy done aught but well, Whose face I never saw? I died whilst in the womb he stayed, Attending nature's law; Whose father then--as men report Thou orphans' father art-- Thou shouldst have been, and shielded him From this earth-vexing smart. MOTHER Lucina lent not me her aid, But took me in my throes, That from me was Posthumus ripped, Came crying 'mongst his foes, A thing of pity. SICILIUS Great Nature, like his ancestry, Molded the stuff so fair That he deserved the praise o' th' world As great Sicilius' heir. FIRST BROTHER When once he was mature for man, In Britain where was he That could stand up his parallel Or fruitful object be In eye of Imogen, that best Could deem his dignity? MOTHER With marriage wherefore was he mocked, To be exiled and thrown From Leonati seat, and cast From her, his dearest one, Sweet Imogen? SICILIUS Why did you suffer Iachimo, Slight thing of Italy, To taint his nobler heart and brain With needless jealousy, And to become the geck and scorn O' th' other's villainy? SECOND BROTHER For this, from stiller seats we came, Our parents and us twain, That striking in our country's cause Fell bravely and were slain, Our fealty and Tenantius' right With honor to maintain. FIRST BROTHER Like hardiment Posthumus hath To Cymbeline performed. Then, Jupiter, thou king of gods, Why hast thou thus adjourned The graces for his merits due, Being all to dolors turned? SICILIUS Thy crystal window ope; look out. No longer exercise Upon a valiant race thy harsh And potent injuries. MOTHER Since, Jupiter, our son is good, Take off his miseries. SICILIUS Peep through thy marble mansion. Help, Or we poor ghosts will cry To th' shining synod of the rest Against thy deity. BROTHERS Help, Jupiter, or we appeal And from thy justice fly. [Jupiter descends in thunder and lightning, sitting upon an eagle. He throws a thunderbolt. The Ghosts fall on their knees.] JUPITER No more, you petty spirits of region low, Offend our hearing! Hush. How dare you ghosts Accuse the Thunderer, whose bolt, you know, Sky-planted, batters all rebelling coasts. Poor shadows of Elysium, hence, and rest Upon your never-withering banks of flowers. Be not with mortal accidents oppressed. No care of yours it is; you know 'tis ours. Whom best I love I cross, to make my gift, The more delayed, delighted. Be content. Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift. His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent. Our Jovial star reigned at his birth, and in Our temple was he married. Rise, and fade. He shall be lord of Lady Imogen, And happier much by his affliction made. [He hands Sicilius a tablet.] This tablet lay upon his breast, wherein Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine. And so away. No farther with your din Express impatience, lest you stir up mine.-- Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline. [Ascends.] SICILIUS He came in thunder. His celestial breath Was sulphurous to smell. The holy eagle Stooped as to foot us. His ascension is More sweet than our blest fields; his royal bird Preens the immortal wing and cloys his beak, As when his god is pleased. ALL Thanks, Jupiter. SICILIUS The marble pavement closes; he is entered His radiant roof. Away, and, to be blest, Let us with care perform his great behest. [He places the tablet on Posthumus' breast. They vanish.] POSTHUMUS, [waking] Sleep, thou hast been a grandsire and begot A father to me, and thou hast created A mother and two brothers. But, O scorn, Gone! They went hence so soon as they were born. And so I am awake. Poor wretches that depend On greatness' favor dream as I have done, Wake, and find nothing. But, alas, I swerve. Many dream not to find, neither deserve, And yet are steeped in favors; so am I That have this golden chance and know not why. [Finding the tablet.] What fairies haunt this ground? A book? O rare one, Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment Nobler than that it covers. Let thy effects So follow, to be, most unlike our courtiers, As good as promise. [Reads.] Whenas a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopped branches which, being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow, then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and plenty. 'Tis still a dream, or else such stuff as madmen Tongue and brain not; either both or nothing, Or senseless speaking, or a speaking such As sense cannot untie. Be what it is, The action of my life is like it, which I'll keep, if but for sympathy. [Enter Jailer.] JAILER Come, sir, are you ready for death? POSTHUMUS Over-roasted rather; ready long ago. JAILER Hanging is the word, sir. If you be ready for that, you are well cooked. POSTHUMUS So, if I prove a good repast to the spectators, the dish pays the shot. JAILER A heavy reckoning for you, sir. But the comfort is, you shall be called to no more payments, fear no more tavern bills, which are often the sadness of parting as the procuring of mirth. You come in faint for want of meat, depart reeling with too much drink; sorry that you have paid too much, and sorry that you are paid too much; purse and brain both empty; the brain the heavier for being too light; the purse too light, being drawn of heaviness. O, of this contradiction you shall now be quit. O, the charity of a penny cord! It sums up thousands in a trice. You have no true debitor and creditor but it; of what's past, is, and to come, the discharge. Your neck, sir, is pen, book, and counters; so the acquittance follows. POSTHUMUS I am merrier to die than thou art to live. JAILER Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the toothache. But a man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he would change places with his officer; for, look you, sir, you know not which way you shall go. POSTHUMUS Yes, indeed do I, fellow. JAILER Your Death has eyes in 's head, then. I have not seen him so pictured. You must either be directed by some that take upon them to know, or to take upon yourself that which I am sure you do not know, or jump the after-inquiry on your own peril. And how you shall speed in your journey's end, I think you'll never return to tell one. POSTHUMUS I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes to direct them the way I am going but such as wink and will not use them. JAILER What an infinite mock is this, that a man should have the best use of eyes to see the way of blindness! I am sure hanging's the way of winking. [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the King. POSTHUMUS Thou bring'st good news. I am called to be made free. JAILER I'll be hanged then. [He removes Posthumus's chains.] POSTHUMUS Thou shalt be then freer than a jailer. No bolts for the dead. [All but the Jailer exit.] JAILER Unless a man would marry a gallows and beget young gibbets, I never saw one so prone. Yet, on my conscience, there are verier knaves desire to live, for all he be a Roman; and there be some of them too that die against their wills. So should I, if I were one. I would we were all of one mind, and one mind good. O, there were desolation of jailers and gallowses! I speak against my present profit, but my wish hath a preferment in 't. [He exits.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Cymbeline, Belarius as Morgan, Guiderius as Polydor, Arviragus as Cadwal, Pisanio, Attendants, and Lords.] CYMBELINE, [to Morgan, Polydor, and Cadwal] Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart That the poor soldier that so richly fought, Whose rags shamed gilded arms, whose naked breast Stepped before targes of proof, cannot be found. He shall be happy that can find him, if Our grace can make him so. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] I never saw Such noble fury in so poor a thing, Such precious deeds in one that promised naught But beggary and poor looks. CYMBELINE No tidings of him? PISANIO He hath been searched among the dead and living, But no trace of him. CYMBELINE, [to Morgan, Polydor, and Cadwal] To my grief, I am The heir of his reward, which I will add To you, the liver, heart, and brain of Britain, By whom I grant she lives. 'Tis now the time To ask of whence you are. Report it. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] Sir, In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen. Further to boast were neither true nor modest, Unless I add we are honest. CYMBELINE Bow your knees. [They kneel. He taps their shoulders with his sword.] Arise my knights o' th' battle. I create you Companions to our person, and will fit you With dignities becoming your estates. [They rise.] [Enter Cornelius and Ladies.] There's business in these faces. Why so sadly Greet you our victory? You look like Romans, And not o' th' court of Britain. CORNELIUS Hail, great king. To sour your happiness I must report The Queen is dead. CYMBELINE Who worse than a physician Would this report become? But I consider By med'cine life may be prolonged, yet death Will seize the doctor too. How ended she? CORNELIUS With horror, madly dying, like her life, Which, being cruel to the world, concluded Most cruel to herself. What she confessed I will report, so please you. These her women Can trip me if I err, who with wet cheeks Were present when she finished. CYMBELINE Prithee, say. CORNELIUS First, she confessed she never loved you, only Affected greatness got by you, not you; Married your royalty, was wife to your place, Abhorred your person. CYMBELINE She alone knew this, And but she spoke it dying, I would not Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed. CORNELIUS Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to love With such integrity, she did confess Was as a scorpion to her sight, whose life, But that her flight prevented it, she had Ta'en off by poison. CYMBELINE O, most delicate fiend! Who is 't can read a woman? Is there more? CORNELIUS More, sir, and worse. She did confess she had For you a mortal mineral which, being took, Should by the minute feed on life and, ling'ring, By inches waste you. In which time she purposed, By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to O'ercome you with her show and, in time, When she had fitted you with her craft, to work Her son into th' adoption of the crown; But failing of her end by his strange absence, Grew shameless desperate; opened, in despite Of heaven and men, her purposes; repented The evils she hatched were not effected; so Despairing died. CYMBELINE Heard you all this, her women? LADIES We did, so please your Highness. CYMBELINE Mine eyes Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; Mine ears that heard her flattery; nor my heart, That thought her like her seeming. It had been vicious To have mistrusted her. Yet, O my daughter, That it was folly in me thou mayst say, And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all. [Enter Lucius, Iachimo, Soothsayer, and other Roman prisoners, Posthumus Leonatus behind, and Imogen as Fidele, with Briton Soldiers as guards.] Thou com'st not, Caius, now for tribute. That The Britons have razed out, though with the loss Of many a bold one, whose kinsmen have made suit That their good souls may be appeased with slaughter Of you their captives, which ourself have granted. So think of your estate. LUCIUS Consider, sir, the chance of war. The day Was yours by accident. Had it gone with us, We should not, when the blood was cool, have threatened Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives May be called ransom, let it come. Sufficeth A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer. Augustus lives to think on 't; and so much For my peculiar care. This one thing only I will entreat: my boy, a Briton born, Let him be ransomed. Never master had A page so kind, so duteous, diligent, So tender over his occasions, true, So feat, so nurselike. Let his virtue join With my request, which I'll make bold your Highness Cannot deny. He hath done no Briton harm, Though he have served a Roman. Save him, sir, And spare no blood beside. CYMBELINE I have surely seen him. His favor is familiar to me.--Boy, Thou hast looked thyself into my grace And art mine own. I know not why, wherefore, To say "Live, boy." Ne'er thank thy master. Live, And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt, Fitting my bounty and thy state, I'll give it, Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner, The noblest ta'en. IMOGEN, [as Fidele] I humbly thank your Highness. LUCIUS I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad, And yet I know thou wilt. IMOGEN, [as Fidele] No, no, alack, There's other work in hand. I see a thing Bitter to me as death. Your life, good master, Must shuffle for itself. LUCIUS The boy disdains me, He leaves me, scorns me. Briefly die their joys That place them on the truth of girls and boys. Why stands he so perplexed? [Imogen stares at Iachimo.] CYMBELINE What would'st thou, boy? I love thee more and more. Think more and more What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st on? Speak. Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? Thy friend? IMOGEN, [as Fidele] He is a Roman, no more kin to me Than I to your Highness, who, being born your vassal, Am something nearer. CYMBELINE Wherefore ey'st him so? IMOGEN, [as Fidele] I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please To give me hearing. CYMBELINE Ay, with all my heart, And lend my best attention. What's thy name? IMOGEN, [as Fidele] Fidele, sir. CYMBELINE Thou 'rt my good youth, my page. I'll be thy master. Walk with me. Speak freely. [Cymbeline and Imogen walk aside and talk.] BELARIUS, [as Morgan] Is not this boy revived from death? ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] One sand another Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad Who died, and was Fidele. What think you? GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] The same dead thing alive. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] Peace, peace. See further. He eyes us not. Forbear. Creatures may be alike. Were 't he, I am sure He would have spoke to us. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] But we see him dead. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] Be silent. Let's see further. PISANIO, [aside] It is my mistress! Since she is living, let the time run on To good or bad. [Cymbeline and Imogen come forward.] CYMBELINE, [to Imogen] Come, stand thou by our side. Make thy demand aloud. [(To Iachimo.)] Sir, step you forth. Give answer to this boy, and do it freely, Or by our greatness and the grace of it, Which is our honor, bitter torture shall Winnow the truth from falsehood.--On. Speak to him. IMOGEN, [as Fidele, pointing to Iachimo's hand] My boon is that this gentleman may render Of whom he had this ring. POSTHUMUS, [aside] What's that to him? CYMBELINE That diamond upon your finger, say How came it yours. IACHIMO Thou 'lt torture me to leave unspoken that Which to be spoke would torture thee. CYMBELINE How? Me? IACHIMO I am glad to be constrained to utter that Which torments me to conceal. By villainy I got this ring. 'Twas Leonatus' jewel, Whom thou didst banish, and--which more may grieve thee, As it doth me--a nobler sir ne'er lived 'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord? CYMBELINE All that belongs to this. IACHIMO That paragon, thy daughter, For whom my heart drops blood and my false spirits Quail to remember--Give me leave; I faint. CYMBELINE My daughter? What of her? Renew thy strength. I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will Than die ere I hear more. Strive, man, and speak. IACHIMO Upon a time--unhappy was the clock That struck the hour!--it was in Rome--accursed The mansion where!--'twas at a feast--O, would Our viands had been poisoned, or at least Those which I heaved to head!--the good Posthumus-- What should I say? He was too good to be Where ill men were, and was the best of all Amongst the rar'st of good ones--sitting sadly, Hearing us praise our loves of Italy For beauty that made barren the swelled boast Of him that best could speak; for feature, laming The shrine of Venus or straight-pight Minerva, Postures beyond brief nature; for condition, A shop of all the qualities that man Loves woman for, besides that hook of wiving, Fairness which strikes the eye-- CYMBELINE I stand on fire. Come to the matter. IACHIMO All too soon I shall, Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. This Posthumus, Most like a noble lord in love and one That had a royal lover, took his hint, And, not dispraising whom we praised--therein He was as calm as virtue--he began His mistress' picture; which by his tongue being made And then a mind put in 't, either our brags Were cracked of kitchen trulls, or his description Proved us unspeaking sots. CYMBELINE Nay, nay, to th' purpose. IACHIMO Your daughter's chastity--there it begins. He spake of her as Dian had hot dreams And she alone were cold; whereat I, wretch, Made scruple of his praise and wagered with him Pieces of gold 'gainst this, which then he wore Upon his honored finger, to attain In suit the place of 's bed and win this ring By hers and mine adultery. He, true knight, No lesser of her honor confident Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring, And would so, had it been a carbuncle Of Phoebus' wheel, and might so safely, had it Been all the worth of 's car. Away to Britain Post I in this design. Well may you, sir, Remember me at court, where I was taught Of your chaste daughter the wide difference 'Twixt amorous and villainous. Being thus quenched Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain Gan in your duller Britain operate Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent. And to be brief, my practice so prevailed That I returned with simular proof enough To make the noble Leonatus mad By wounding his belief in her renown With tokens thus and thus; averring notes Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet-- O, cunning how I got it!--nay, some marks Of secret on her person, that he could not But think her bond of chastity quite cracked, I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon-- Methinks I see him now-- POSTHUMUS, [coming forward] Ay, so thou dost, Italian fiend.--Ay me, most credulous fool, Egregious murderer, thief, anything That's due to all the villains past, in being, To come. O, give me cord, or knife, or poison, Some upright justicer.--Thou, king, send out For torturers ingenious. It is I That all th' abhorred things o' th' Earth amend By being worse than they. I am Posthumus, That killed thy daughter--villainlike, I lie-- That caused a lesser villain than myself, A sacrilegious thief, to do 't. The temple Of virtue was she, yea, and she herself. Spit and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set The dogs o' th' street to bay me. Every villain Be called Posthumus Leonatus, and Be villainy less than 'twas. O Imogen! My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen, Imogen, Imogen! IMOGEN, [running to Posthumus] Peace, my lord! Hear, hear-- POSTHUMUS Shall 's have a play of this? Thou scornful page, There lie thy part. [He pushes her away; she falls.] PISANIO O, gentlemen, help!-- Mine and your mistress! O my lord Posthumus, You ne'er killed Imogen till now! Help, help! Mine honored lady-- CYMBELINE Does the world go round? POSTHUMUS How comes these staggers on me? PISANIO Wake, my mistress. CYMBELINE If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me To death with mortal joy. PISANIO How fares my mistress? IMOGEN O, get thee from my sight! Thou gav'st me poison. Dangerous fellow, hence. Breathe not where princes are. CYMBELINE The tune of Imogen! PISANIO Lady, the gods throw stones of sulfur on me if That box I gave you was not thought by me A precious thing. I had it from the Queen. CYMBELINE New matter still. IMOGEN It poisoned me. CORNELIUS O gods! [To Pisanio.] I left out one thing which the Queen confessed, Which must approve thee honest. "If Pisanio Have," said she, "given his mistress that confection Which I gave him for cordial, she is served As I would serve a rat." CYMBELINE What's this, Cornelius? CORNELIUS The Queen, sir, very oft importuned me To temper poisons for her, still pretending The satisfaction of her knowledge only In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs, Of no esteem. I, dreading that her purpose Was of more danger, did compound for her A certain stuff which, being ta'en, would cease The present power of life, but in short time All offices of nature should again Do their due functions.--Have you ta'en of it? IMOGEN Most like I did, for I was dead. BELARIUS, [as Morgan, aside to Guiderius and Arviragus] My boys, There was our error. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] This is sure Fidele. IMOGEN, [to Posthumus] Why did you throw your wedded lady from you? Think that you are upon a rock, and now Throw me again. [She embraces him.] POSTHUMUS Hang there like fruit, my soul, Till the tree die. CYMBELINE, [to Imogen] How now, my flesh, my child? What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act? Wilt thou not speak to me? IMOGEN, [kneeling] Your blessing, sir. BELARIUS, [as Morgan, aside to Guiderius and Arviragus] Though you did love this youth, I blame you not. You had a motive for 't. CYMBELINE, [to Imogen] My tears that fall Prove holy water on thee. Imogen, Thy mother's dead. IMOGEN I am sorry for 't, my lord. [She rises.] CYMBELINE O, she was naught, and long of her it was That we meet here so strangely. But her son Is gone, we know not how nor where. PISANIO My lord, Now fear is from me, I'll speak truth. Lord Cloten, Upon my lady's missing, came to me With his sword drawn, foamed at the mouth, and swore, If I discovered not which way she was gone, It was my instant death. By accident, I had a feigned letter of my master's Then in my pocket, which directed him To seek her on the mountains near to Milford; Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments, Which he enforced from me, away he posts With unchaste purpose and with oath to violate My lady's honor. What became of him I further know not. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] Let me end the story. I slew him there. CYMBELINE Marry, the gods forfend! I would not thy good deeds should from my lips Pluck a hard sentence. Prithee, valiant youth, Deny 't again. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] I have spoke it, and I did it. CYMBELINE He was a prince. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] A most incivil one. The wrongs he did me Were nothing princelike, for he did provoke me With language that would make me spurn the sea If it could so roar to me. I cut off 's head, And am right glad he is not standing here To tell this tale of mine. CYMBELINE I am sorrow for thee. By thine own tongue thou art condemned and must Endure our law. Thou 'rt dead. IMOGEN That headless man I thought had been my lord. CYMBELINE Bind the offender, And take him from our presence. [Attendants bind Guiderius.] BELARIUS, [as Morgan] Stay, sir king. This man is better than the man he slew, As well descended as thyself, and hath More of thee merited than a band of Clotens Had ever scar for.--Let his arms alone. They were not born for bondage. CYMBELINE Why, old soldier, Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for By tasting of our wrath? How of descent As good as we? ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] In that he spake too far. CYMBELINE, [to Morgan] And thou shalt die for 't. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] We will die all three But I will prove that two on 's are as good As I have given out him.--My sons, I must For mine own part unfold a dangerous speech, Though haply well for you. ARVIRAGUS, [as Cadwal] Your danger's ours. GUIDERIUS, [as Polydor] And our good his. BELARIUS, [as Morgan] Have at it, then.--By leave, Thou hadst, great king, a subject who Was called Belarius. CYMBELINE What of him? He is A banished traitor. BELARIUS He it is that hath Assumed this age; indeed a banished man, I know not how a traitor. CYMBELINE Take him hence. The whole world shall not save him. BELARIUS Not too hot. First pay me for the nursing of thy sons And let it be confiscate all, so soon As I have received it. CYMBELINE Nursing of my sons? BELARIUS I am too blunt and saucy. Here's my knee. [He kneels.] Ere I arise I will prefer my sons, Then spare not the old father. Mighty sir, These two young gentlemen that call me father And think they are my sons are none of mine. They are the issue of your loins, my liege, And blood of your begetting. CYMBELINE How? My issue? BELARIUS So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan, Am that Belarius whom you sometime banished. Your pleasure was my mere offense, my punishment Itself, and all my treason. That I suffered Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes-- For such and so they are--these twenty years Have I trained up; those arts they have as I Could put into them. My breeding was, sir, as Your Highness knows. Their nurse Euriphile, Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children Upon my banishment. I moved her to 't, Having received the punishment before For that which I did then. Beaten for loyalty Excited me to treason. Their dear loss, The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shaped Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir, Here are your sons again, and I must lose Two of the sweet'st companions in the world. The benediction of these covering heavens Fall on their heads like dew, for they are worthy To inlay heaven with stars. [He weeps.] CYMBELINE Thou weep'st and speak'st. The service that you three have done is more Unlike than this thou tell'st. I lost my children. If these be they, I know not how to wish A pair of worthier sons. BELARIUS Be pleased awhile. This gentleman whom I call Polydor, Most worthy prince, as yours is true Guiderius; This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus, Your younger princely son. He, sir, was lapped In a most curious mantle, wrought by th' hand Of his queen mother, which for more probation I can with ease produce. CYMBELINE Guiderius had Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star. It was a mark of wonder. BELARIUS This is he, Who hath upon him still that natural stamp. It was wise Nature's end in the donation To be his evidence now. CYMBELINE O, what am I, A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother Rejoiced deliverance more.--Blest pray you be, That after this strange starting from your orbs, You may reign in them now.--O Imogen, Thou hast lost by this a kingdom! IMOGEN No, my lord. I have got two worlds by 't.--O my gentle brothers, Have we thus met? O, never say hereafter But I am truest speaker. You called me "brother" When I was but your sister; I you "brothers" When we were so indeed. CYMBELINE Did you e'er meet? ARVIRAGUS Ay, my good lord. GUIDERIUS And at first meeting loved, Continued so until we thought he died. CORNELIUS By the Queen's dram she swallowed. CYMBELINE, [to Imogen] O, rare instinct! When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridgment Hath to it circumstantial branches which Distinction should be rich in. Where, how lived you? And when came you to serve our Roman captive? How parted with your brothers? How first met them? Why fled you from the court? And whither? [To Belarius.] These, And your three motives to the battle, with I know not how much more, should be demanded, And all the other by-dependences From chance to chance; but nor the time nor place Will serve our long interrogatories. See, Posthumus anchors upon Imogen; And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye On him, her brothers, me, her master, hitting Each object with a joy; the counterchange Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground, And smoke the temple with our sacrifices. Thou art my brother, so we'll hold thee ever. IMOGEN, [to Belarius] You are my father too, and did relieve me To see this gracious season. CYMBELINE All o'erjoyed Save these in bonds; let them be joyful too, For they shall taste our comfort. IMOGEN, [to Lucius] My good master, I will yet do you service. LUCIUS Happy be you! CYMBELINE The forlorn soldier that so nobly fought, He would have well becomed this place and graced The thankings of a king. POSTHUMUS I am, sir, The soldier that did company these three In poor beseeming; 'twas a fitment for The purpose I then followed. That I was he, Speak, Iachimo. I had you down and might Have made you finish. IACHIMO, [kneeling] I am down again, But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee, As then your force did. Take that life, beseech you, Which I so often owe; but your ring first, And here the bracelet of the truest princess That ever swore her faith. [He holds out the ring and bracelet.] POSTHUMUS Kneel not to me. The power that I have on you is to spare you; The malice towards you to forgive you. Live And deal with others better. CYMBELINE Nobly doomed. We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law: Pardon's the word to all. [Iachimo rises.] ARVIRAGUS, [to Posthumus] You holp us, sir, As you did mean indeed to be our brother. Joyed are we that you are. POSTHUMUS Your servant, princes.--Good my lord of Rome, Call forth your soothsayer. As I slept, methought Great Jupiter upon his eagle backed Appeared to me, with other spritely shows Of mine own kindred. When I waked, I found This label on my bosom, whose containing Is so from sense in hardness that I can Make no collection of it. Let him show His skill in the construction. LUCIUS Philarmonus! SOOTHSAYER, [coming forward] Here, my good lord. LUCIUS Read, and declare the meaning. SOOTHSAYER [reads.] Whenas a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopped branches which, being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and plenty. Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp. The fit and apt construction of thy name, Being Leo-natus, doth import so much. [To Cymbeline.] The piece of tender air thy virtuous daughter, Which we call "mollis aer," and "mollis aer" We term it "mulier," which "mulier" I divine Is this most constant wife; who, even now, Answering the letter of the oracle, [To Posthumus] Unknown to you, unsought, were clipped about With this most tender air. CYMBELINE This hath some seeming. SOOTHSAYER The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, Personates thee; and thy lopped branches point Thy two sons forth, who, by Belarius stol'n, For many years thought dead, are now revived, To the majestic cedar joined, whose issue Promises Britain peace and plenty. CYMBELINE Well, My peace we will begin. And, Caius Lucius, Although the victor, we submit to Caesar And to the Roman Empire, promising To pay our wonted tribute, from the which We were dissuaded by our wicked queen, Whom heavens in justice both on her and hers Have laid most heavy hand. SOOTHSAYER The fingers of the powers above do tune The harmony of this peace. The vision Which I made known to Lucius ere the stroke Of this yet scarce-cold battle at this instant Is full accomplished. For the Roman eagle, From south to west on wing soaring aloft, Lessened herself and in the beams o' th' sun So vanished; which foreshowed our princely eagle, Th' imperial Caesar, should again unite His favor with the radiant Cymbeline, Which shines here in the west. CYMBELINE Laud we the gods, And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils From our blest altars. Publish we this peace To all our subjects. Set we forward. Let A Roman and a British ensign wave Friendly together. So through Lud's Town march, And in the temple of great Jupiter Our peace we'll ratify, seal it with feasts. Set on there. Never was a war did cease, Ere bloody hands were washed, with such a peace. [They exit.]

Hamlet by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== THE GHOST HAMLET, Prince of Denmark, son of the late King Hamlet and Queen Gertrude QUEEN GERTRUDE, widow of King Hamlet, now married to Claudius KING CLAUDIUS, brother to the late King Hamlet OPHELIA LAERTES, her brother POLONIUS, father of Ophelia and Laertes, councillor to King Claudius REYNALDO, servant to Polonius HORATIO, Hamlet's friend and confidant Courtiers at the Danish court: VOLTEMAND CORNELIUS ROSENCRANTZ GUILDENSTERN OSRIC Gentlemen A Lord Danish soldiers: FRANCISCO BARNARDO MARCELLUS FORTINBRAS, Prince of Norway A Captain in Fortinbras's army Ambassadors to Denmark from England Players who take the roles of Prologue, Player King, Player Queen, and Lucianus in <title>The Murder of Gonzago</title> Two Messengers Sailors Gravedigger Gravedigger's companion Doctor of Divinity Attendants, Lords, Guards, Musicians, Laertes's Followers, Soldiers, Officers ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Barnardo and Francisco, two sentinels.] BARNARDO Who's there? FRANCISCO Nay, answer me. Stand and unfold yourself. BARNARDO Long live the King! FRANCISCO Barnardo? BARNARDO He. FRANCISCO You come most carefully upon your hour. BARNARDO 'Tis now struck twelve. Get thee to bed, Francisco. FRANCISCO For this relief much thanks. 'Tis bitter cold, And I am sick at heart. BARNARDO Have you had quiet guard? FRANCISCO Not a mouse stirring. BARNARDO Well, good night. If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste. [Enter Horatio and Marcellus.] FRANCISCO I think I hear them.--Stand ho! Who is there? HORATIO Friends to this ground. MARCELLUS And liegemen to the Dane. FRANCISCO Give you good night. MARCELLUS O farewell, honest soldier. Who hath relieved you? FRANCISCO Barnardo hath my place. Give you good night. [Francisco exits.] MARCELLUS Holla, Barnardo. BARNARDO Say, what, is Horatio there? HORATIO A piece of him. BARNARDO Welcome, Horatio.--Welcome, good Marcellus. HORATIO What, has this thing appeared again tonight? BARNARDO I have seen nothing. MARCELLUS Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy And will not let belief take hold of him Touching this dreaded sight twice seen of us. Therefore I have entreated him along With us to watch the minutes of this night, That, if again this apparition come, He may approve our eyes and speak to it. HORATIO Tush, tush, 'twill not appear. BARNARDO Sit down awhile, And let us once again assail your ears, That are so fortified against our story, What we have two nights seen. HORATIO Well, sit we down, And let us hear Barnardo speak of this. BARNARDO Last night of all, When yond same star that's westward from the pole Had made his course t' illume that part of heaven Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself, The bell then beating one-- [Enter Ghost.] MARCELLUS Peace, break thee off! Look where it comes again. BARNARDO In the same figure like the King that's dead. MARCELLUS, [to Horatio] Thou art a scholar. Speak to it, Horatio. BARNARDO Looks he not like the King? Mark it, Horatio. HORATIO Most like. It harrows me with fear and wonder. BARNARDO It would be spoke to. MARCELLUS Speak to it, Horatio. HORATIO What art thou that usurp'st this time of night, Together with that fair and warlike form In which the majesty of buried Denmark Did sometimes march? By heaven, I charge thee, speak. MARCELLUS It is offended. BARNARDO See, it stalks away. HORATIO Stay! speak! speak! I charge thee, speak! [Ghost exits.] MARCELLUS 'Tis gone and will not answer. BARNARDO How now, Horatio, you tremble and look pale. Is not this something more than fantasy? What think you on 't? HORATIO Before my God, I might not this believe Without the sensible and true avouch Of mine own eyes. MARCELLUS Is it not like the King? HORATIO As thou art to thyself. Such was the very armor he had on When he the ambitious Norway combated. So frowned he once when, in an angry parle, He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice. 'Tis strange. MARCELLUS Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour, With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch. HORATIO In what particular thought to work I know not, But in the gross and scope of mine opinion This bodes some strange eruption to our state. MARCELLUS Good now, sit down, and tell me, he that knows, Why this same strict and most observant watch So nightly toils the subject of the land, And why such daily cast of brazen cannon And foreign mart for implements of war, Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task Does not divide the Sunday from the week. What might be toward that this sweaty haste Doth make the night joint laborer with the day? Who is 't that can inform me? HORATIO That can I. At least the whisper goes so: our last king, Whose image even but now appeared to us, Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway, Thereto pricked on by a most emulate pride, Dared to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet (For so this side of our known world esteemed him) Did slay this Fortinbras, who by a sealed compact, Well ratified by law and heraldry, Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands Which he stood seized of, to the conqueror. Against the which a moiety competent Was gaged by our king, which had returned To the inheritance of Fortinbras Had he been vanquisher, as, by the same comart And carriage of the article designed, His fell to Hamlet. Now, sir, young Fortinbras, Of unimproved mettle hot and full, Hath in the skirts of Norway here and there Sharked up a list of lawless resolutes For food and diet to some enterprise That hath a stomach in 't; which is no other (As it doth well appear unto our state) But to recover of us, by strong hand And terms compulsatory, those foresaid lands So by his father lost. And this, I take it, Is the main motive of our preparations, The source of this our watch, and the chief head Of this posthaste and rummage in the land. BARNARDO I think it be no other but e'en so. Well may it sort that this portentous figure Comes armed through our watch so like the king That was and is the question of these wars. HORATIO A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye. In the most high and palmy state of Rome, A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets; As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood, Disasters in the sun; and the moist star, Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands, Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse. And even the like precurse of feared events, As harbingers preceding still the fates And prologue to the omen coming on, Have heaven and Earth together demonstrated Unto our climatures and countrymen. [Enter Ghost.] But soft, behold! Lo, where it comes again! I'll cross it though it blast me.--Stay, illusion! [It spreads his arms.] If thou hast any sound or use of voice, Speak to me. If there be any good thing to be done That may to thee do ease and grace to me, Speak to me. If thou art privy to thy country's fate, Which happily foreknowing may avoid, O, speak! Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life Extorted treasure in the womb of earth, For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death, Speak of it. [The cock crows.] Stay and speak!--Stop it, Marcellus. MARCELLUS Shall I strike it with my partisan? HORATIO Do, if it will not stand. BARNARDO 'Tis here. HORATIO 'Tis here. [Ghost exits.] MARCELLUS 'Tis gone. We do it wrong, being so majestical, To offer it the show of violence, For it is as the air, invulnerable, And our vain blows malicious mockery. BARNARDO It was about to speak when the cock crew. HORATIO And then it started like a guilty thing Upon a fearful summons. I have heard The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat Awake the god of day, and at his warning, Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, Th' extravagant and erring spirit hies To his confine, and of the truth herein This present object made probation. MARCELLUS It faded on the crowing of the cock. Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes Wherein our Savior's birth is celebrated, This bird of dawning singeth all night long; And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad, The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallowed and so gracious is that time. HORATIO So have I heard and do in part believe it. But look, the morn in russet mantle clad Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill. Break we our watch up, and by my advice Let us impart what we have seen tonight Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life, This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him. Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it As needful in our loves, fitting our duty? MARCELLUS Let's do 't, I pray, and I this morning know Where we shall find him most convenient. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Flourish. Enter Claudius, King of Denmark, Gertrude the Queen, the Council, as Polonius, and his son Laertes, Hamlet, with others, among them Voltemand and Cornelius.] KING Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death The memory be green, and that it us befitted To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom To be contracted in one brow of woe, Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature That we with wisest sorrow think on him Together with remembrance of ourselves. Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen, Th' imperial jointress to this warlike state, Have we (as 'twere with a defeated joy, With an auspicious and a dropping eye, With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage, In equal scale weighing delight and dole) Taken to wife. Nor have we herein barred Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone With this affair along. For all, our thanks. Now follows that you know. Young Fortinbras, Holding a weak supposal of our worth Or thinking by our late dear brother's death Our state to be disjoint and out of frame, Colleagued with this dream of his advantage, He hath not failed to pester us with message Importing the surrender of those lands Lost by his father, with all bonds of law, To our most valiant brother--so much for him. Now for ourself and for this time of meeting. Thus much the business is: we have here writ To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras, Who, impotent and bedrid, scarcely hears Of this his nephew's purpose, to suppress His further gait herein, in that the levies, The lists, and full proportions are all made Out of his subject; and we here dispatch You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltemand, For bearers of this greeting to old Norway, Giving to you no further personal power To business with the King more than the scope Of these dilated articles allow. [Giving them a paper.] Farewell, and let your haste commend your duty. CORNELIUS/VOLTEMAND In that and all things will we show our duty. KING We doubt it nothing. Heartily farewell. [Voltemand and Cornelius exit.] And now, Laertes, what's the news with you? You told us of some suit. What is 't, Laertes? You cannot speak of reason to the Dane And lose your voice. What wouldst thou beg, Laertes, That shall not be my offer, not thy asking? The head is not more native to the heart, The hand more instrumental to the mouth, Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father. What wouldst thou have, Laertes? LAERTES My dread lord, Your leave and favor to return to France, From whence though willingly I came to Denmark To show my duty in your coronation, Yet now I must confess, that duty done, My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon. KING Have you your father's leave? What says Polonius? POLONIUS Hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave By laborsome petition, and at last Upon his will I sealed my hard consent. I do beseech you give him leave to go. KING Take thy fair hour, Laertes. Time be thine, And thy best graces spend it at thy will.-- But now, my cousin Hamlet and my son-- HAMLET, [aside] A little more than kin and less than kind. KING How is it that the clouds still hang on you? HAMLET Not so, my lord; I am too much in the sun. QUEEN Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted color off, And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. Do not forever with thy vailed lids Seek for thy noble father in the dust. Thou know'st 'tis common; all that lives must die, Passing through nature to eternity. HAMLET Ay, madam, it is common. QUEEN If it be, Why seems it so particular with thee? HAMLET "Seems," madam? Nay, it is. I know not "seems." 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black, Nor windy suspiration of forced breath, No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, Nor the dejected havior of the visage, Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief, That can denote me truly. These indeed "seem," For they are actions that a man might play; But I have that within which passes show, These but the trappings and the suits of woe. KING 'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet, To give these mourning duties to your father. But you must know your father lost a father, That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound In filial obligation for some term To do obsequious sorrow. But to persever In obstinate condolement is a course Of impious stubbornness. 'Tis unmanly grief. It shows a will most incorrect to heaven, A heart unfortified, a mind impatient, An understanding simple and unschooled. For what we know must be and is as common As any the most vulgar thing to sense, Why should we in our peevish opposition Take it to heart? Fie, 'tis a fault to heaven, A fault against the dead, a fault to nature, To reason most absurd, whose common theme Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried, From the first corse till he that died today, "This must be so." We pray you, throw to earth This unprevailing woe and think of us As of a father; for let the world take note, You are the most immediate to our throne, And with no less nobility of love Than that which dearest father bears his son Do I impart toward you. For your intent In going back to school in Wittenberg, It is most retrograde to our desire, And we beseech you, bend you to remain Here in the cheer and comfort of our eye, Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son. QUEEN Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet. I pray thee, stay with us. Go not to Wittenberg. HAMLET I shall in all my best obey you, madam. KING Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply. Be as ourself in Denmark.--Madam, come. This gentle and unforced accord of Hamlet Sits smiling to my heart, in grace whereof No jocund health that Denmark drinks today But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell, And the King's rouse the heaven shall bruit again, Respeaking earthly thunder. Come away. [Flourish. All but Hamlet exit.] HAMLET O, that this too, too sullied flesh would melt, Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew, Or that the Everlasting had not fixed His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God, God, How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on 't, ah fie! 'Tis an unweeded garden That grows to seed. Things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely. That it should come to this: But two months dead--nay, not so much, not two. So excellent a king, that was to this Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and Earth, Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on. And yet, within a month (Let me not think on 't; frailty, thy name is woman!), A little month, or ere those shoes were old With which she followed my poor father's body, Like Niobe, all tears--why she, even she (O God, a beast that wants discourse of reason Would have mourned longer!), married with my uncle, My father's brother, but no more like my father Than I to Hercules. Within a month, Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, She married. O, most wicked speed, to post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets! It is not, nor it cannot come to good. But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue. [Enter Horatio, Marcellus, and Barnardo.] HORATIO Hail to your Lordship. HAMLET I am glad to see you well. Horatio--or I do forget myself! HORATIO The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever. HAMLET Sir, my good friend. I'll change that name with you. And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?-- Marcellus? MARCELLUS My good lord. HAMLET I am very glad to see you. [To Barnardo.] Good even, sir.-- But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg? HORATIO A truant disposition, good my lord. HAMLET I would not hear your enemy say so, Nor shall you do my ear that violence To make it truster of your own report Against yourself. I know you are no truant. But what is your affair in Elsinore? We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart. HORATIO My lord, I came to see your father's funeral. HAMLET I prithee, do not mock me, fellow student. I think it was to see my mother's wedding. HORATIO Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon. HAMLET Thrift, thrift, Horatio. The funeral baked meats Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio! My father--methinks I see my father. HORATIO Where, my lord? HAMLET In my mind's eye, Horatio. HORATIO I saw him once. He was a goodly king. HAMLET He was a man. Take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again. HORATIO My lord, I think I saw him yesternight. HAMLET Saw who? HORATIO My lord, the King your father. HAMLET The King my father? HORATIO Season your admiration for a while With an attent ear, till I may deliver Upon the witness of these gentlemen This marvel to you. HAMLET For God's love, let me hear! HORATIO Two nights together had these gentlemen, Marcellus and Barnardo, on their watch, In the dead waste and middle of the night, Been thus encountered: a figure like your father, Armed at point exactly, cap-a-pie, Appears before them and with solemn march Goes slow and stately by them. Thrice he walked By their oppressed and fear-surprised eyes Within his truncheon's length, whilst they, distilled Almost to jelly with the act of fear, Stand dumb and speak not to him. This to me In dreadful secrecy impart they did, And I with them the third night kept the watch, Where, as they had delivered, both in time, Form of the thing (each word made true and good), The apparition comes. I knew your father; These hands are not more like. HAMLET But where was this? MARCELLUS My lord, upon the platform where we watch. HAMLET Did you not speak to it? HORATIO My lord, I did, But answer made it none. Yet once methought It lifted up its head and did address Itself to motion, like as it would speak; But even then the morning cock crew loud, And at the sound it shrunk in haste away And vanished from our sight. HAMLET 'Tis very strange. HORATIO As I do live, my honored lord, 'tis true. And we did think it writ down in our duty To let you know of it. HAMLET Indeed, sirs, but this troubles me. Hold you the watch tonight? ALL We do, my lord. HAMLET Armed, say you? ALL Armed, my lord. HAMLET From top to toe? ALL My lord, from head to foot. HAMLET Then saw you not his face? HORATIO O, yes, my lord, he wore his beaver up. HAMLET What, looked he frowningly? HORATIO A countenance more in sorrow than in anger. HAMLET Pale or red? HORATIO Nay, very pale. HAMLET And fixed his eyes upon you? HORATIO Most constantly. HAMLET I would I had been there. HORATIO It would have much amazed you. HAMLET Very like. Stayed it long? HORATIO While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred. BARNARDO/MARCELLUS Longer, longer. HORATIO Not when I saw 't. HAMLET His beard was grizzled, no? HORATIO It was as I have seen it in his life, A sable silvered. HAMLET I will watch tonight. Perchance 'twill walk again. HORATIO I warrant it will. HAMLET If it assume my noble father's person, I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all, If you have hitherto concealed this sight, Let it be tenable in your silence still; And whatsomever else shall hap tonight, Give it an understanding but no tongue. I will requite your loves. So fare you well. Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve, I'll visit you. ALL Our duty to your Honor. HAMLET Your loves, as mine to you. Farewell. [All but Hamlet exit.] My father's spirit--in arms! All is not well. I doubt some foul play. Would the night were come! Till then, sit still, my soul. Foul deeds will rise, Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes. [He exits.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Laertes and Ophelia, his sister.] LAERTES My necessaries are embarked. Farewell. And, sister, as the winds give benefit And convey is assistant, do not sleep, But let me hear from you. OPHELIA Do you doubt that? LAERTES For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favor, Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood, A violet in the youth of primy nature, Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting, The perfume and suppliance of a minute, No more. OPHELIA No more but so? LAERTES Think it no more. For nature, crescent, does not grow alone In thews and bulk, but, as this temple waxes, The inward service of the mind and soul Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now, And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch The virtue of his will; but you must fear, His greatness weighed, his will is not his own, For he himself is subject to his birth. He may not, as unvalued persons do, Carve for himself, for on his choice depends The safety and the health of this whole state. And therefore must his choice be circumscribed Unto the voice and yielding of that body Whereof he is the head. Then, if he says he loves you, It fits your wisdom so far to believe it As he in his particular act and place May give his saying deed, which is no further Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal. Then weigh what loss your honor may sustain If with too credent ear you list his songs Or lose your heart or your chaste treasure open To his unmastered importunity. Fear it, Ophelia; fear it, my dear sister, And keep you in the rear of your affection, Out of the shot and danger of desire. The chariest maid is prodigal enough If she unmask her beauty to the moon. Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes. The canker galls the infants of the spring Too oft before their buttons be disclosed, And, in the morn and liquid dew of youth, Contagious blastments are most imminent. Be wary, then; best safety lies in fear. Youth to itself rebels, though none else near. OPHELIA I shall the effect of this good lesson keep As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother, Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven, Whiles, like a puffed and reckless libertine, Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads And recks not his own rede. LAERTES O, fear me not. [Enter Polonius.] I stay too long. But here my father comes. A double blessing is a double grace. Occasion smiles upon a second leave. POLONIUS Yet here, Laertes? Aboard, aboard, for shame! The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail, And you are stayed for. There, my blessing with thee. And these few precepts in thy memory Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, Nor any unproportioned thought his act. Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel, But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatched, unfledged courage. Beware Of entrance to a quarrel, but, being in, Bear 't that th' opposed may beware of thee. Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice. Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, But not expressed in fancy (rich, not gaudy), For the apparel oft proclaims the man, And they in France of the best rank and station Are of a most select and generous chief in that. Neither a borrower nor a lender be, For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man. Farewell. My blessing season this in thee. LAERTES Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord. POLONIUS The time invests you. Go, your servants tend. LAERTES Farewell, Ophelia, and remember well What I have said to you. OPHELIA 'Tis in my memory locked, And you yourself shall keep the key of it. LAERTES Farewell. [Laertes exits.] POLONIUS What is 't, Ophelia, he hath said to you? OPHELIA So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet. POLONIUS Marry, well bethought. 'Tis told me he hath very oft of late Given private time to you, and you yourself Have of your audience been most free and bounteous. If it be so (as so 'tis put on me, And that in way of caution), I must tell you You do not understand yourself so clearly As it behooves my daughter and your honor. What is between you? Give me up the truth. OPHELIA He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders Of his affection to me. POLONIUS Affection, puh! You speak like a green girl Unsifted in such perilous circumstance. Do you believe his "tenders," as you call them? OPHELIA I do not know, my lord, what I should think. POLONIUS Marry, I will teach you. Think yourself a baby That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay, Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly, Or (not to crack the wind of the poor phrase, Running it thus) you'll tender me a fool. OPHELIA My lord, he hath importuned me with love In honorable fashion-- POLONIUS Ay, "fashion" you may call it. Go to, go to! OPHELIA And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord, With almost all the holy vows of heaven. POLONIUS Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know, When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul Lends the tongue vows. These blazes, daughter, Giving more light than heat, extinct in both Even in their promise as it is a-making, You must not take for fire. From this time Be something scanter of your maiden presence. Set your entreatments at a higher rate Than a command to parle. For Lord Hamlet, Believe so much in him that he is young, And with a larger tether may he walk Than may be given you. In few, Ophelia, Do not believe his vows, for they are brokers, Not of that dye which their investments show, But mere implorators of unholy suits, Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds The better to beguile. This is for all: I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth Have you so slander any moment leisure As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet. Look to 't, I charge you. Come your ways. OPHELIA I shall obey, my lord. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Hamlet, Horatio, and Marcellus.] HAMLET The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold. HORATIO It is a nipping and an eager air. HAMLET What hour now? HORATIO I think it lacks of twelve. MARCELLUS No, it is struck. HORATIO Indeed, I heard it not. It then draws near the season Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk. [A flourish of trumpets and two pieces goes off.] What does this mean, my lord? HAMLET The King doth wake tonight and takes his rouse, Keeps wassail, and the swagg'ring upspring reels; And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, The kettledrum and trumpet thus bray out The triumph of his pledge. HORATIO Is it a custom? HAMLET Ay, marry, is 't, But, to my mind, though I am native here And to the manner born, it is a custom More honored in the breach than the observance. This heavy-headed revel east and west Makes us traduced and taxed of other nations. They clepe us drunkards and with swinish phrase Soil our addition. And, indeed, it takes From our achievements, though performed at height, The pith and marrow of our attribute. So oft it chances in particular men That for some vicious mole of nature in them, As in their birth (wherein they are not guilty, Since nature cannot choose his origin), By the o'ergrowth of some complexion (Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason), Or by some habit that too much o'erleavens The form of plausive manners--that these men, Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect, Being nature's livery or fortune's star, His virtues else, be they as pure as grace, As infinite as man may undergo, Shall in the general censure take corruption From that particular fault. The dram of evil Doth all the noble substance of a doubt To his own scandal. [Enter Ghost.] HORATIO Look, my lord, it comes. HAMLET Angels and ministers of grace, defend us! Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damned, Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, Be thy intents wicked or charitable, Thou com'st in such a questionable shape That I will speak to thee. I'll call thee "Hamlet," "King," "Father," "Royal Dane." O, answer me! Let me not burst in ignorance, but tell Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death, Have burst their cerements; why the sepulcher, Wherein we saw thee quietly interred, Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws To cast thee up again. What may this mean That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel, Revisits thus the glimpses of the moon, Making night hideous, and we fools of nature So horridly to shake our disposition With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? Say, why is this? Wherefore? What should we do? [Ghost beckons.] HORATIO It beckons you to go away with it As if it some impartment did desire To you alone. MARCELLUS Look with what courteous action It waves you to a more removed ground. But do not go with it. HORATIO No, by no means. HAMLET It will not speak. Then I will follow it. HORATIO Do not, my lord. HAMLET Why, what should be the fear? I do not set my life at a pin's fee. And for my soul, what can it do to that, Being a thing immortal as itself? It waves me forth again. I'll follow it. HORATIO What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord? Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff That beetles o'er his base into the sea, And there assume some other horrible form Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason And draw you into madness? Think of it. The very place puts toys of desperation, Without more motive, into every brain That looks so many fathoms to the sea And hears it roar beneath. HAMLET It waves me still.--Go on, I'll follow thee. MARCELLUS You shall not go, my lord. [They hold back Hamlet.] HAMLET Hold off your hands. HORATIO Be ruled. You shall not go. HAMLET My fate cries out And makes each petty arture in this body As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve. Still am I called. Unhand me, gentlemen. By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me! I say, away!--Go on. I'll follow thee. [Ghost and Hamlet exit.] HORATIO He waxes desperate with imagination. MARCELLUS Let's follow. 'Tis not fit thus to obey him. HORATIO Have after. To what issue will this come? MARCELLUS Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. HORATIO Heaven will direct it. MARCELLUS Nay, let's follow him. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Ghost and Hamlet.] HAMLET Whither wilt thou lead me? Speak. I'll go no further. GHOST Mark me. HAMLET I will. GHOST My hour is almost come When I to sulf'rous and tormenting flames Must render up myself. HAMLET Alas, poor ghost! GHOST Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing To what I shall unfold. HAMLET Speak. I am bound to hear. GHOST So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear. HAMLET What? GHOST I am thy father's spirit, Doomed for a certain term to walk the night And for the day confined to fast in fires Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature Are burnt and purged away. But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison house, I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand an end, Like quills upon the fearful porpentine. But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O list! If thou didst ever thy dear father love-- HAMLET O God! GHOST Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder. HAMLET Murder? GHOST Murder most foul, as in the best it is, But this most foul, strange, and unnatural. HAMLET Haste me to know 't, that I, with wings as swift As meditation or the thoughts of love, May sweep to my revenge. GHOST I find thee apt; And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed That roots itself in ease on Lethe wharf, Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear. 'Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard, A serpent stung me. So the whole ear of Denmark Is by a forged process of my death Rankly abused. But know, thou noble youth, The serpent that did sting thy father's life Now wears his crown. HAMLET O, my prophetic soul! My uncle! GHOST Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, With witchcraft of his wits, with traitorous gifts-- O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power So to seduce!--won to his shameful lust The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen. O Hamlet, what a falling off was there! From me, whose love was of that dignity That it went hand in hand even with the vow I made to her in marriage, and to decline Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor To those of mine. But virtue, as it never will be moved, Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven, So, lust, though to a radiant angel linked, Will sate itself in a celestial bed And prey on garbage. But soft, methinks I scent the morning air. Brief let me be. Sleeping within my orchard, My custom always of the afternoon, Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole With juice of cursed hebona in a vial And in the porches of my ears did pour The leprous distilment, whose effect Holds such an enmity with blood of man That swift as quicksilver it courses through The natural gates and alleys of the body, And with a sudden vigor it doth posset And curd, like eager droppings into milk, The thin and wholesome blood. So did it mine, And a most instant tetter barked about, Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust All my smooth body. Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand Of life, of crown, of queen at once dispatched, Cut off, even in the blossoms of my sin, Unhouseled, disappointed, unaneled, No reck'ning made, but sent to my account With all my imperfections on my head. O horrible, O horrible, most horrible! If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not. Let not the royal bed of Denmark be A couch for luxury and damned incest. But, howsomever thou pursues this act, Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive Against thy mother aught. Leave her to heaven And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once. The glowworm shows the matin to be near And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire. Adieu, adieu, adieu. Remember me. [He exits.] HAMLET O all you host of heaven! O Earth! What else? And shall I couple hell? O fie! Hold, hold, my heart, And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee? Ay, thou poor ghost, whiles memory holds a seat In this distracted globe. Remember thee? Yea, from the table of my memory I'll wipe away all trivial, fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, That youth and observation copied there, And thy commandment all alone shall live Within the book and volume of my brain, Unmixed with baser matter. Yes, by heaven! O most pernicious woman! O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain! My tables--meet it is I set it down That one may smile and smile and be a villain. At least I am sure it may be so in Denmark. [He writes.] So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word. It is "adieu, adieu, remember me." I have sworn 't. [Enter Horatio and Marcellus.] HORATIO My lord, my lord! MARCELLUS Lord Hamlet. HORATIO Heavens secure him! HAMLET So be it. MARCELLUS Illo, ho, ho, my lord! HAMLET Hillo, ho, ho, boy! Come, bird, come! MARCELLUS How is 't, my noble lord? HORATIO What news, my lord? HAMLET O, wonderful! HORATIO Good my lord, tell it. HAMLET No, you will reveal it. HORATIO Not I, my lord, by heaven. MARCELLUS Nor I, my lord. HAMLET How say you, then? Would heart of man once think it? But you'll be secret? HORATIO/MARCELLUS Ay, by heaven, my lord. HAMLET There's never a villain dwelling in all Denmark But he's an arrant knave. HORATIO There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave To tell us this. HAMLET Why, right, you are in the right. And so, without more circumstance at all, I hold it fit that we shake hands and part, You, as your business and desire shall point you (For every man hath business and desire, Such as it is), and for my own poor part, I will go pray. HORATIO These are but wild and whirling words, my lord. HAMLET I am sorry they offend you, heartily; Yes, faith, heartily. HORATIO There's no offense, my lord. HAMLET Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio, And much offense, too. Touching this vision here, It is an honest ghost--that let me tell you. For your desire to know what is between us, O'ermaster 't as you may. And now, good friends, As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers, Give me one poor request. HORATIO What is 't, my lord? We will. HAMLET Never make known what you have seen tonight. HORATIO/MARCELLUS My lord, we will not. HAMLET Nay, but swear 't. HORATIO In faith, my lord, not I. MARCELLUS Nor I, my lord, in faith. HAMLET Upon my sword. MARCELLUS We have sworn, my lord, already. HAMLET Indeed, upon my sword, indeed. GHOST [cries under the stage] Swear. HAMLET Ha, ha, boy, sayst thou so? Art thou there, truepenny? Come on, you hear this fellow in the cellarage. Consent to swear. HORATIO Propose the oath, my lord. HAMLET Never to speak of this that you have seen, Swear by my sword. GHOST, [beneath] Swear. HAMLET Hic et ubique? Then we'll shift our ground. Come hither, gentlemen, And lay your hands again upon my sword. Swear by my sword Never to speak of this that you have heard. GHOST, [beneath] Swear by his sword. HAMLET Well said, old mole. Canst work i' th' earth so fast?-- A worthy pioner! Once more remove, good friends. HORATIO O day and night, but this is wondrous strange. HAMLET And therefore as a stranger give it welcome. There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. But come. Here, as before, never, so help you mercy, How strange or odd some'er I bear myself (As I perchance hereafter shall think meet To put an antic disposition on) That you, at such times seeing me, never shall, With arms encumbered thus, or this headshake, Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase, As "Well, well, we know," or "We could an if we would," Or "If we list to speak," or "There be an if they might," Or such ambiguous giving-out, to note That you know aught of me--this do swear, So grace and mercy at your most need help you. GHOST, [beneath] Swear. HAMLET Rest, rest, perturbed spirit.--So, gentlemen, With all my love I do commend me to you, And what so poor a man as Hamlet is May do t' express his love and friending to you, God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together, And still your fingers on your lips, I pray. The time is out of joint. O cursed spite That ever I was born to set it right! Nay, come, let's go together. [They exit.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter old Polonius with his man Reynaldo.] POLONIUS Give him this money and these notes, Reynaldo. REYNALDO I will, my lord. POLONIUS You shall do marvelous wisely, good Reynaldo, Before you visit him, to make inquire Of his behavior. REYNALDO My lord, I did intend it. POLONIUS Marry, well said, very well said. Look you, sir, Inquire me first what Danskers are in Paris; And how, and who, what means, and where they keep, What company, at what expense; and finding By this encompassment and drift of question That they do know my son, come you more nearer Than your particular demands will touch it. Take you, as 'twere, some distant knowledge of him, As thus: "I know his father and his friends And, in part, him." Do you mark this, Reynaldo? REYNALDO Ay, very well, my lord. POLONIUS "And, in part, him, but," you may say, "not well. But if 't be he I mean, he's very wild, Addicted so and so." And there put on him What forgeries you please--marry, none so rank As may dishonor him, take heed of that, But, sir, such wanton, wild, and usual slips As are companions noted and most known To youth and liberty. REYNALDO As gaming, my lord. POLONIUS Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, Quarreling, drabbing--you may go so far. REYNALDO My lord, that would dishonor him. POLONIUS Faith, no, as you may season it in the charge. You must not put another scandal on him That he is open to incontinency; That's not my meaning. But breathe his faults so quaintly That they may seem the taints of liberty, The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind, A savageness in unreclaimed blood, Of general assault. REYNALDO But, my good lord-- POLONIUS Wherefore should you do this? REYNALDO Ay, my lord, I would know that. POLONIUS Marry, sir, here's my drift, And I believe it is a fetch of wit. You, laying these slight sullies on my son, As 'twere a thing a little soiled i' th' working, Mark you, your party in converse, him you would sound, Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes The youth you breathe of guilty, be assured He closes with you in this consequence: "Good sir," or so, or "friend," or "gentleman," According to the phrase or the addition Of man and country-- REYNALDO Very good, my lord. POLONIUS And then, sir, does he this, he does--what was I about to say? By the Mass, I was about to say something. Where did I leave? REYNALDO At "closes in the consequence," at "friend, or so," and "gentleman." POLONIUS At "closes in the consequence"--ay, marry-- He closes thus: "I know the gentleman. I saw him yesterday," or "th' other day" (Or then, or then, with such or such), "and as you say, There was he gaming, there o'ertook in 's rouse, There falling out at tennis"; or perchance "I saw him enter such a house of sale"-- Videlicet, a brothel--or so forth. See you now Your bait of falsehood take this carp of truth; And thus do we of wisdom and of reach, With windlasses and with assays of bias, By indirections find directions out. So by my former lecture and advice Shall you my son. You have me, have you not? REYNALDO My lord, I have. POLONIUS God be wi' you. Fare you well. REYNALDO Good my lord. POLONIUS Observe his inclination in yourself. REYNALDO I shall, my lord. POLONIUS And let him ply his music. REYNALDO Well, my lord. POLONIUS Farewell. [Reynaldo exits.] [Enter Ophelia.] How now, Ophelia, what's the matter? OPHELIA O, my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted! POLONIUS With what, i' th' name of God? OPHELIA My lord, as I was sewing in my closet, Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbraced, No hat upon his head, his stockings fouled, Ungartered, and down-gyved to his ankle, Pale as his shirt, his knees knocking each other, And with a look so piteous in purport As if he had been loosed out of hell To speak of horrors--he comes before me. POLONIUS Mad for thy love? OPHELIA My lord, I do not know, But truly I do fear it. POLONIUS What said he? OPHELIA He took me by the wrist and held me hard. Then goes he to the length of all his arm, And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow, He falls to such perusal of my face As he would draw it. Long stayed he so. At last, a little shaking of mine arm, And thrice his head thus waving up and down, He raised a sigh so piteous and profound As it did seem to shatter all his bulk And end his being. That done, he lets me go, And, with his head over his shoulder turned, He seemed to find his way without his eyes, For out o' doors he went without their helps And to the last bended their light on me. POLONIUS Come, go with me. I will go seek the King. This is the very ecstasy of love, Whose violent property fordoes itself And leads the will to desperate undertakings As oft as any passions under heaven That does afflict our natures. I am sorry. What, have you given him any hard words of late? OPHELIA No, my good lord, but as you did command I did repel his letters and denied His access to me. POLONIUS That hath made him mad. I am sorry that with better heed and judgment I had not coted him. I feared he did but trifle And meant to wrack thee. But beshrew my jealousy! By heaven, it is as proper to our age To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions As it is common for the younger sort To lack discretion. Come, go we to the King. This must be known, which, being kept close, might move More grief to hide than hate to utter love. Come. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Flourish. Enter King and Queen, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern and Attendants.] KING Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Moreover that we much did long to see you, The need we have to use you did provoke Our hasty sending. Something have you heard Of Hamlet's transformation, so call it, Sith nor th' exterior nor the inward man Resembles that it was. What it should be, More than his father's death, that thus hath put him So much from th' understanding of himself I cannot dream of. I entreat you both That, being of so young days brought up with him And sith so neighbored to his youth and havior, That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court Some little time, so by your companies To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather So much as from occasion you may glean, Whether aught to us unknown afflicts him thus That, opened, lies within our remedy. QUEEN Good gentlemen, he hath much talked of you, And sure I am two men there is not living To whom he more adheres. If it will please you To show us so much gentry and goodwill As to expend your time with us awhile For the supply and profit of our hope, Your visitation shall receive such thanks As fits a king's remembrance. ROSENCRANTZ Both your Majesties Might, by the sovereign power you have of us, Put your dread pleasures more into command Than to entreaty. GUILDENSTERN But we both obey, And here give up ourselves in the full bent To lay our service freely at your feet, To be commanded. KING Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern. QUEEN Thanks, Guildenstern and gentle Rosencrantz. And I beseech you instantly to visit My too much changed son.--Go, some of you, And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is. GUILDENSTERN Heavens make our presence and our practices Pleasant and helpful to him! QUEEN Ay, amen! [Rosencrantz and Guildenstern exit with some Attendants.] [Enter Polonius.] POLONIUS Th' ambassadors from Norway, my good lord, Are joyfully returned. KING Thou still hast been the father of good news. POLONIUS Have I, my lord? I assure my good liege I hold my duty as I hold my soul, Both to my God and to my gracious king, And I do think, or else this brain of mine Hunts not the trail of policy so sure As it hath used to do, that I have found The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy. KING O, speak of that! That do I long to hear. POLONIUS Give first admittance to th' ambassadors. My news shall be the fruit to that great feast. KING Thyself do grace to them and bring them in. [Polonius exits.] He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found The head and source of all your son's distemper. QUEEN I doubt it is no other but the main-- His father's death and our o'erhasty marriage. KING Well, we shall sift him. [Enter Ambassadors Voltemand and Cornelius with Polonius.] Welcome, my good friends. Say, Voltemand, what from our brother Norway? VOLTEMAND Most fair return of greetings and desires. Upon our first, he sent out to suppress His nephew's levies, which to him appeared To be a preparation 'gainst the Polack, But, better looked into, he truly found It was against your Highness. Whereat, grieved That so his sickness, age, and impotence Was falsely borne in hand, sends out arrests On Fortinbras, which he, in brief, obeys, Receives rebuke from Norway, and, in fine, Makes vow before his uncle never more To give th' assay of arms against your Majesty. Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy, Gives him three-score thousand crowns in annual fee And his commission to employ those soldiers, So levied as before, against the Polack, With an entreaty, herein further shown, [He gives a paper.] That it might please you to give quiet pass Through your dominions for this enterprise, On such regards of safety and allowance As therein are set down. KING It likes us well, And, at our more considered time, we'll read, Answer, and think upon this business. Meantime, we thank you for your well-took labor. Go to your rest. At night we'll feast together. Most welcome home! [Voltemand and Cornelius exit.] POLONIUS This business is well ended. My liege, and madam, to expostulate What majesty should be, what duty is, Why day is day, night night, and time is time Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time. Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief. Your noble son is mad. "Mad" call I it, for, to define true madness, What is 't but to be nothing else but mad? But let that go. QUEEN More matter with less art. POLONIUS Madam, I swear I use no art at all. That he's mad, 'tis true; 'tis true 'tis pity, And pity 'tis 'tis true--a foolish figure, But farewell it, for I will use no art. Mad let us grant him then, and now remains That we find out the cause of this effect, Or, rather say, the cause of this defect, For this effect defective comes by cause. Thus it remains, and the remainder thus. Perpend. I have a daughter (have while she is mine) Who, in her duty and obedience, mark, Hath given me this. Now gather and surmise. [He reads.] To the celestial, and my soul's idol, the most beautified Ophelia-- That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; "beautified" is a vile phrase. But you shall hear. Thus: [He reads.] In her excellent white bosom, these, etc.-- QUEEN Came this from Hamlet to her? POLONIUS Good madam, stay awhile. I will be faithful. [He reads the letter.] Doubt thou the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move, Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love. O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers. I have not art to reckon my groans, but that I love thee best, O most best, believe it. Adieu. Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him, Hamlet. This, in obedience, hath my daughter shown me, And more above, hath his solicitings, As they fell out by time, by means, and place, All given to mine ear. KING But how hath she received his love? POLONIUS What do you think of me? KING As of a man faithful and honorable. POLONIUS I would fain prove so. But what might you think, When I had seen this hot love on the wing (As I perceived it, I must tell you that, Before my daughter told me), what might you, Or my dear Majesty your queen here, think, If I had played the desk or table-book Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb, Or looked upon this love with idle sight? What might you think? No, I went round to work, And my young mistress thus I did bespeak: "Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy star. This must not be." And then I prescripts gave her, That she should lock herself from his resort, Admit no messengers, receive no tokens; Which done, she took the fruits of my advice, And he, repelled (a short tale to make), Fell into a sadness, then into a fast, Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness, Thence to a lightness, and, by this declension, Into the madness wherein now he raves And all we mourn for. KING, [to Queen] Do you think 'tis this? QUEEN It may be, very like. POLONIUS Hath there been such a time (I would fain know that) That I have positively said "'Tis so," When it proved otherwise? KING Not that I know. POLONIUS Take this from this, if this be otherwise. If circumstances lead me, I will find Where truth is hid, though it were hid, indeed, Within the center. KING How may we try it further? POLONIUS You know sometimes he walks four hours together Here in the lobby. QUEEN So he does indeed. POLONIUS At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him. [To the King.] Be you and I behind an arras then. Mark the encounter. If he love her not, And be not from his reason fall'n thereon, Let me be no assistant for a state, But keep a farm and carters. KING We will try it. [Enter Hamlet reading on a book.] QUEEN But look where sadly the poor wretch comes reading. POLONIUS Away, I do beseech you both, away. I'll board him presently. O, give me leave. [King and Queen exit with Attendants.] How does my good Lord Hamlet? HAMLET Well, God-a-mercy. POLONIUS Do you know me, my lord? HAMLET Excellent well. You are a fishmonger. POLONIUS Not I, my lord. HAMLET Then I would you were so honest a man. POLONIUS Honest, my lord? HAMLET Ay, sir. To be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand. POLONIUS That's very true, my lord. HAMLET For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a good kissing carrion--Have you a daughter? POLONIUS I have, my lord. HAMLET Let her not walk i' th' sun. Conception is a blessing, but, as your daughter may conceive, friend, look to 't. POLONIUS, [aside] How say you by that? Still harping on my daughter. Yet he knew me not at first; he said I was a fishmonger. He is far gone. And truly, in my youth, I suffered much extremity for love, very near this. I'll speak to him again.--What do you read, my lord? HAMLET Words, words, words. POLONIUS What is the matter, my lord? HAMLET Between who? POLONIUS I mean the matter that you read, my lord. HAMLET Slanders, sir; for the satirical rogue says here that old men have gray beards, that their faces are wrinkled, their eyes purging thick amber and plum-tree gum, and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams; all which, sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down; for yourself, sir, shall grow old as I am, if, like a crab, you could go backward. POLONIUS, [aside] Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't.--Will you walk out of the air, my lord? HAMLET Into my grave? POLONIUS Indeed, that's out of the air. [Aside.] How pregnant sometimes his replies are! A happiness that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of. I will leave him and suddenly contrive the means of meeting between him and my daughter.--My lord, I will take my leave of you. HAMLET You cannot, sir, take from me anything that I will more willingly part withal--except my life, except my life, except my life. POLONIUS Fare you well, my lord. HAMLET, [aside] These tedious old fools. [Enter Guildenstern and Rosencrantz.] POLONIUS You go to seek the Lord Hamlet. There he is. ROSENCRANTZ, [to Polonius] God save you, sir. [Polonius exits.] GUILDENSTERN My honored lord. ROSENCRANTZ My most dear lord. HAMLET My excellent good friends! How dost thou, Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do you both? ROSENCRANTZ As the indifferent children of the earth. GUILDENSTERN Happy in that we are not overhappy. On Fortune's cap, we are not the very button. HAMLET Nor the soles of her shoe? ROSENCRANTZ Neither, my lord. HAMLET Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of her favors? GUILDENSTERN Faith, her privates we. HAMLET In the secret parts of Fortune? O, most true! She is a strumpet. What news? ROSENCRANTZ None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest. HAMLET Then is doomsday near. But your news is not true. Let me question more in particular. What have you, my good friends, deserved at the hands of Fortune that she sends you to prison hither? GUILDENSTERN Prison, my lord? HAMLET Denmark's a prison. ROSENCRANTZ Then is the world one. HAMLET A goodly one, in which there are many confines, wards, and dungeons, Denmark being one o' th' worst. ROSENCRANTZ We think not so, my lord. HAMLET Why, then, 'tis none to you, for there is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so. To me, it is a prison. ROSENCRANTZ Why, then, your ambition makes it one. 'Tis too narrow for your mind. HAMLET O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams. GUILDENSTERN Which dreams, indeed, are ambition, for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream. HAMLET A dream itself is but a shadow. ROSENCRANTZ Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality that it is but a shadow's shadow. HAMLET Then are our beggars bodies, and our monarchs and outstretched heroes the beggars' shadows. Shall we to th' court? For, by my fay, I cannot reason. ROSENCRANTZ/GUILDENSTERN We'll wait upon you. HAMLET No such matter. I will not sort you with the rest of my servants, for, to speak to you like an honest man, I am most dreadfully attended. But, in the beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elsinore? ROSENCRANTZ To visit you, my lord, no other occasion. HAMLET Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I thank you, and sure, dear friends, my thanks are too dear a halfpenny. Were you not sent for? Is it your own inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come, come, deal justly with me. Come, come; nay, speak. GUILDENSTERN What should we say, my lord? HAMLET Anything but to th' purpose. You were sent for, and there is a kind of confession in your looks which your modesties have not craft enough to color. I know the good king and queen have sent for you. ROSENCRANTZ To what end, my lord? HAMLET That you must teach me. But let me conjure you by the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of our youth, by the obligation of our ever-preserved love, and by what more dear a better proposer can charge you withal: be even and direct with me whether you were sent for or no. ROSENCRANTZ, [to Guildenstern] What say you? HAMLET, [aside] Nay, then, I have an eye of you.--If you love me, hold not off. GUILDENSTERN My lord, we were sent for. HAMLET I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the King and Queen molt no feather. I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises, and, indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the Earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof, fretted with golden fire--why, it appeareth nothing to me but a foul and pestilent congregation of vapors. What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable; in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god: the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals--and yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me, no, nor women neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so. ROSENCRANTZ My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts. HAMLET Why did you laugh, then, when I said "man delights not me"? ROSENCRANTZ To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what Lenten entertainment the players shall receive from you. We coted them on the way, and hither are they coming to offer you service. HAMLET He that plays the king shall be welcome--his Majesty shall have tribute on me. The adventurous knight shall use his foil and target, the lover shall not sigh gratis, the humorous man shall end his part in peace, the clown shall make those laugh whose lungs are tickle o' th' sear, and the lady shall say her mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt for 't. What players are they? ROSENCRANTZ Even those you were wont to take such delight in, the tragedians of the city. HAMLET How chances it they travel? Their residence, both in reputation and profit, was better both ways. ROSENCRANTZ I think their inhibition comes by the means of the late innovation. HAMLET Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the city? Are they so followed? ROSENCRANTZ No, indeed are they not. HAMLET How comes it? Do they grow rusty? ROSENCRANTZ Nay, their endeavor keeps in the wonted pace. But there is, sir, an aerie of children, little eyases, that cry out on the top of question and are most tyrannically clapped for 't. These are now the fashion and so berattle the common stages (so they call them) that many wearing rapiers are afraid of goose quills and dare scarce come thither. HAMLET What, are they children? Who maintains 'em? How are they escoted? Will they pursue the quality no longer than they can sing? Will they not say afterwards, if they should grow themselves to common players (as it is most like, if their means are no better), their writers do them wrong to make them exclaim against their own succession? ROSENCRANTZ Faith, there has been much to-do on both sides, and the nation holds it no sin to tar them to controversy. There was for a while no money bid for argument unless the poet and the player went to cuffs in the question. HAMLET Is 't possible? GUILDENSTERN O, there has been much throwing about of brains. HAMLET Do the boys carry it away? ROSENCRANTZ Ay, that they do, my lord--Hercules and his load too. HAMLET It is not very strange; for my uncle is King of Denmark, and those that would make mouths at him while my father lived give twenty, forty, fifty, a hundred ducats apiece for his picture in little. 'Sblood, there is something in this more than natural, if philosophy could find it out. [A flourish for the Players.] GUILDENSTERN There are the players. HAMLET Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Your hands, come then. Th' appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony. Let me comply with you in this garb, lest my extent to the players, which, I tell you, must show fairly outwards, should more appear like entertainment than yours. You are welcome. But my uncle-father and aunt-mother are deceived. GUILDENSTERN In what, my dear lord? HAMLET I am but mad north-north-west. When the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw. [Enter Polonius.] POLONIUS Well be with you, gentlemen. HAMLET Hark you, Guildenstern, and you too--at each ear a hearer! That great baby you see there is not yet out of his swaddling clouts. ROSENCRANTZ Haply he is the second time come to them, for they say an old man is twice a child. HAMLET I will prophesy he comes to tell me of the players; mark it.--You say right, sir, a Monday morning, 'twas then indeed. POLONIUS My lord, I have news to tell you. HAMLET My lord, I have news to tell you: when Roscius was an actor in Rome-- POLONIUS The actors are come hither, my lord. HAMLET Buzz, buzz. POLONIUS Upon my honor-- HAMLET Then came each actor on his ass. POLONIUS The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, tragical-historical, tragical-comical-historical-pastoral, scene individable, or poem unlimited. Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the liberty, these are the only men. HAMLET O Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou! POLONIUS What a treasure had he, my lord? HAMLET Why, One fair daughter, and no more, The which he loved passing well. POLONIUS, [aside] Still on my daughter. HAMLET Am I not i' th' right, old Jephthah? POLONIUS If you call me "Jephthah," my lord: I have a daughter that I love passing well. HAMLET Nay, that follows not. POLONIUS What follows then, my lord? HAMLET Why, As by lot, God wot and then, you know, It came to pass, as most like it was-- the first row of the pious chanson will show you more, for look where my abridgment comes. [Enter the Players.] You are welcome, masters; welcome all.--I am glad to see thee well.--Welcome, good friends.--O my old friend! Why, thy face is valanced since I saw thee last. Com'st thou to beard me in Denmark?--What, my young lady and mistress! By 'r Lady, your Ladyship is nearer to heaven than when I saw you last, by the altitude of a chopine. Pray God your voice, like a piece of uncurrent gold, be not cracked within the ring. Masters, you are all welcome. We'll e'en to 't like French falconers, fly at anything we see. We'll have a speech straight. Come, give us a taste of your quality. Come, a passionate speech. FIRST PLAYER What speech, my good lord? HAMLET I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was never acted, or, if it was, not above once; for the play, I remember, pleased not the million: 'twas caviary to the general. But it was (as I received it, and others whose judgments in such matters cried in the top of mine) an excellent play, well digested in the scenes, set down with as much modesty as cunning. I remember one said there were no sallets in the lines to make the matter savory, nor no matter in the phrase that might indict the author of affection, but called it an honest method, as wholesome as sweet and, by very much, more handsome than fine. One speech in 't I chiefly loved. 'Twas Aeneas' tale to Dido, and thereabout of it especially when he speaks of Priam's slaughter. If it live in your memory, begin at this line--let me see, let me see: The rugged Pyrrhus, like th' Hyrcanian beast-- 'tis not so; it begins with Pyrrhus: The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms, Black as his purpose, did the night resemble When he lay couched in th' ominous horse, Hath now this dread and black complexion smeared With heraldry more dismal. Head to foot, Now is he total gules, horridly tricked With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, Baked and impasted with the parching streets, That lend a tyrannous and a damned light To their lord's murder. Roasted in wrath and fire, And thus o'ersized with coagulate gore, With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus Old grandsire Priam seeks. So, proceed you. POLONIUS 'Fore God, my lord, well spoken, with good accent and good discretion. FIRST PLAYER Anon he finds him Striking too short at Greeks. His antique sword, Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls, Repugnant to command. Unequal matched, Pyrrhus at Priam drives, in rage strikes wide; But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword Th' unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium, Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top Stoops to his base, and with a hideous crash Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ear. For lo, his sword, Which was declining on the milky head Of reverend Priam, seemed i' th' air to stick. So as a painted tyrant Pyrrhus stood And, like a neutral to his will and matter, Did nothing. But as we often see against some storm A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still, The bold winds speechless, and the orb below As hush as death, anon the dreadful thunder Doth rend the region; so, after Pyrrhus' pause, Aroused vengeance sets him new a-work, And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall On Mars's armor, forged for proof eterne, With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword Now falls on Priam. Out, out, thou strumpet Fortune! All you gods In general synod take away her power, Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel, And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven As low as to the fiends! POLONIUS This is too long. HAMLET It shall to the barber's with your beard.-- Prithee say on. He's for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or he sleeps. Say on; come to Hecuba. FIRST PLAYER But who, ah woe, had seen the mobled queen-- HAMLET "The mobled queen"? POLONIUS That's good. "Mobled queen" is good. FIRST PLAYER Run barefoot up and down, threat'ning the flames With bisson rheum, a clout upon that head Where late the diadem stood, and for a robe, About her lank and all o'erteemed loins A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up-- Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steeped, 'Gainst Fortune's state would treason have pronounced. But if the gods themselves did see her then When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs, The instant burst of clamor that she made (Unless things mortal move them not at all) Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven And passion in the gods. POLONIUS Look whe'er he has not turned his color and has tears in 's eyes. Prithee, no more. HAMLET 'Tis well. I'll have thee speak out the rest of this soon.--Good my lord, will you see the players well bestowed? Do you hear, let them be well used, for they are the abstract and brief chronicles of the time. After your death you were better have a bad epitaph than their ill report while you live. POLONIUS My lord, I will use them according to their desert. HAMLET God's bodykins, man, much better! Use every man after his desert and who shall 'scape whipping? Use them after your own honor and dignity. The less they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty. Take them in. POLONIUS Come, sirs. HAMLET Follow him, friends. We'll hear a play tomorrow. [As Polonius and Players exit, Hamlet speaks to the First Player.] Dost thou hear me, old friend? Can you play "The Murder of Gonzago"? FIRST PLAYER Ay, my lord. HAMLET We'll ha 't tomorrow night. You could, for a need, study a speech of some dozen or sixteen lines, which I would set down and insert in 't, could you not? FIRST PLAYER Ay, my lord. HAMLET Very well. Follow that lord--and look you mock him not. [First Player exits.] My good friends, I'll leave you till night. You are welcome to Elsinore. ROSENCRANTZ Good my lord. HAMLET Ay, so, good-bye to you. [Rosencrantz and Guildenstern exit.] Now I am alone. O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I! Is it not monstrous that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit That from her working all his visage wanned, Tears in his eyes, distraction in his aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit--and all for nothing! For Hecuba! What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her? What would he do Had he the motive and the cue for passion That I have? He would drown the stage with tears And cleave the general ear with horrid speech, Make mad the guilty and appall the free, Confound the ignorant and amaze indeed The very faculties of eyes and ears. Yet I, A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause, And can say nothing--no, not for a king Upon whose property and most dear life A damned defeat was made. Am I a coward? Who calls me "villain"? breaks my pate across? Plucks off my beard and blows it in my face? Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i' th' throat As deep as to the lungs? Who does me this? Ha! 'Swounds, I should take it! For it cannot be But I am pigeon-livered and lack gall To make oppression bitter, or ere this I should have fatted all the region kites With this slave's offal. Bloody, bawdy villain! Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain! O vengeance! Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave, That I, the son of a dear father murdered, Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell, Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words And fall a-cursing like a very drab, A stallion! Fie upon 't! Foh! About, my brains!--Hum, I have heard That guilty creatures sitting at a play Have, by the very cunning of the scene, Been struck so to the soul that presently They have proclaimed their malefactions; For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players Play something like the murder of my father Before mine uncle. I'll observe his looks; I'll tent him to the quick. If he do blench, I know my course. The spirit that I have seen May be a devil, and the devil hath power T' assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps, Out of my weakness and my melancholy, As he is very potent with such spirits, Abuses me to damn me. I'll have grounds More relative than this. The play's the thing Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the King. [He exits.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and Lords.] KING And can you by no drift of conference Get from him why he puts on this confusion, Grating so harshly all his days of quiet With turbulent and dangerous lunacy? ROSENCRANTZ He does confess he feels himself distracted, But from what cause he will by no means speak. GUILDENSTERN Nor do we find him forward to be sounded, But with a crafty madness keeps aloof When we would bring him on to some confession Of his true state. QUEEN Did he receive you well? ROSENCRANTZ Most like a gentleman. GUILDENSTERN But with much forcing of his disposition. ROSENCRANTZ Niggard of question, but of our demands Most free in his reply. QUEEN Did you assay him to any pastime? ROSENCRANTZ Madam, it so fell out that certain players We o'erraught on the way. Of these we told him, And there did seem in him a kind of joy To hear of it. They are here about the court, And, as I think, they have already order This night to play before him. POLONIUS 'Tis most true, And he beseeched me to entreat your Majesties To hear and see the matter. KING With all my heart, and it doth much content me To hear him so inclined. Good gentlemen, give him a further edge And drive his purpose into these delights. ROSENCRANTZ We shall, my lord. [Rosencrantz and Guildenstern and Lords exit.] KING Sweet Gertrude, leave us too, For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither, That he, as 'twere by accident, may here Affront Ophelia. Her father and myself, lawful espials, Will so bestow ourselves that, seeing unseen, We may of their encounter frankly judge And gather by him, as he is behaved, If 't be th' affliction of his love or no That thus he suffers for. QUEEN I shall obey you. And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish That your good beauties be the happy cause Of Hamlet's wildness. So shall I hope your virtues Will bring him to his wonted way again, To both your honors. OPHELIA Madam, I wish it may. [Queen exits.] POLONIUS Ophelia, walk you here.--Gracious, so please you, We will bestow ourselves. [To Ophelia.] Read on this book, That show of such an exercise may color Your loneliness.--We are oft to blame in this ('Tis too much proved), that with devotion's visage And pious action we do sugar o'er The devil himself. KING, [aside] O, 'tis too true! How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience. The harlot's cheek beautied with plast'ring art Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it Than is my deed to my most painted word. O heavy burden! POLONIUS I hear him coming. Let's withdraw, my lord. [They withdraw.] [Enter Hamlet.] HAMLET To be or not to be--that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles And, by opposing, end them. To die, to sleep-- No more--and by a sleep to say we end The heartache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to--'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep-- To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub, For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause. There's the respect That makes calamity of so long life. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of th' unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscovered country from whose bourn No traveler returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pitch and moment With this regard their currents turn awry And lose the name of action.--Soft you now, The fair Ophelia.--Nymph, in thy orisons Be all my sins remembered. OPHELIA Good my lord, How does your Honor for this many a day? HAMLET I humbly thank you, well. OPHELIA My lord, I have remembrances of yours That I have longed long to redeliver. I pray you now receive them. HAMLET No, not I. I never gave you aught. OPHELIA My honored lord, you know right well you did, And with them words of so sweet breath composed As made the things more rich. Their perfume lost, Take these again, for to the noble mind Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind. There, my lord. HAMLET Ha, ha, are you honest? OPHELIA My lord? HAMLET Are you fair? OPHELIA What means your Lordship? HAMLET That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should admit no discourse to your beauty. OPHELIA Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty? HAMLET Ay, truly, for the power of beauty will sooner transform honesty from what it is to a bawd than the force of honesty can translate beauty into his likeness. This was sometime a paradox, but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once. OPHELIA Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so. HAMLET You should not have believed me, for virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it. I loved you not. OPHELIA I was the more deceived. HAMLET Get thee to a nunnery. Why wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest, but yet I could accuse me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me: I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offenses at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves all; believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery. Where's your father? OPHELIA At home, my lord. HAMLET Let the doors be shut upon him that he may play the fool nowhere but in 's own house. Farewell. OPHELIA O, help him, you sweet heavens! HAMLET If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry: be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a nunnery, farewell. Or if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool, for wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go, and quickly too. Farewell. OPHELIA Heavenly powers, restore him! HAMLET I have heard of your paintings too, well enough. God hath given you one face, and you make yourselves another. You jig and amble, and you lisp; you nickname God's creatures and make your wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on 't. It hath made me mad. I say we will have no more marriage. Those that are married already, all but one, shall live. The rest shall keep as they are. To a nunnery, go. [He exits.] OPHELIA O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword, Th' expectancy and rose of the fair state, The glass of fashion and the mold of form, Th' observed of all observers, quite, quite down! And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, That sucked the honey of his musicked vows, Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled, out of time and harsh; That unmatched form and stature of blown youth Blasted with ecstasy. O, woe is me T' have seen what I have seen, see what I see! KING, [advancing with Polonius] Love? His affections do not that way tend; Nor what he spake, though it lacked form a little, Was not like madness. There's something in his soul O'er which his melancholy sits on brood, And I do doubt the hatch and the disclose Will be some danger; which for to prevent, I have in quick determination Thus set it down: he shall with speed to England For the demand of our neglected tribute. Haply the seas, and countries different, With variable objects, shall expel This something-settled matter in his heart, Whereon his brains still beating puts him thus From fashion of himself. What think you on 't? POLONIUS It shall do well. But yet do I believe The origin and commencement of his grief Sprung from neglected love.--How now, Ophelia? You need not tell us what Lord Hamlet said; We heard it all.--My lord, do as you please, But, if you hold it fit, after the play Let his queen-mother all alone entreat him To show his grief. Let her be round with him; And I'll be placed, so please you, in the ear Of all their conference. If she find him not, To England send him, or confine him where Your wisdom best shall think. KING It shall be so. Madness in great ones must not unwatched go. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Hamlet and three of the Players.] HAMLET Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue; but if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus, but use all gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious, periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who for the most part are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb shows and noise. I would have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant. It out-Herods Herod. Pray you, avoid it. PLAYER I warrant your Honor. HAMLET Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be your tutor. Suit the action to the word, the word to the action, with this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature. For anything so o'erdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first and now, was and is to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature, to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure. Now this overdone or come tardy off, though it makes the unskillful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve, the censure of the which one must in your allowance o'erweigh a whole theater of others. O, there be players that I have seen play and heard others praise (and that highly), not to speak it profanely, that, neither having th' accent of Christians nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably. PLAYER I hope we have reformed that indifferently with us, sir. HAMLET O, reform it altogether. And let those that play your clowns speak no more than is set down for them, for there be of them that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh too, though in the meantime some necessary question of the play be then to be considered. That's villainous and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it. Go make you ready. [Players exit.] [Enter Polonius, Guildenstern, and Rosencrantz.] How now, my lord, will the King hear this piece of work? POLONIUS And the Queen too, and that presently. HAMLET Bid the players make haste. [Polonius exits.] Will you two help to hasten them? ROSENCRANTZ Ay, my lord. [They exit.] HAMLET What ho, Horatio! [Enter Horatio.] HORATIO Here, sweet lord, at your service. HAMLET Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man As e'er my conversation coped withal. HORATIO O, my dear lord-- HAMLET Nay, do not think I flatter, For what advancement may I hope from thee That no revenue hast but thy good spirits To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flattered? No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear? Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice And could of men distinguish, her election Hath sealed thee for herself. For thou hast been As one in suffering all that suffers nothing, A man that Fortune's buffets and rewards Hast ta'en with equal thanks; and blessed are those Whose blood and judgment are so well commeddled That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger To sound what stop she please. Give me that man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee.--Something too much of this.-- There is a play tonight before the King. One scene of it comes near the circumstance Which I have told thee of my father's death. I prithee, when thou seest that act afoot, Even with the very comment of thy soul Observe my uncle. If his occulted guilt Do not itself unkennel in one speech, It is a damned ghost that we have seen, And my imaginations are as foul As Vulcan's stithy. Give him heedful note, For I mine eyes will rivet to his face, And, after, we will both our judgments join In censure of his seeming. HORATIO Well, my lord. If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing And 'scape detecting, I will pay the theft. [Sound a flourish.] HAMLET They are coming to the play. I must be idle. Get you a place. [Enter Trumpets and Kettle Drums. Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and other Lords attendant with the King's guard carrying torches.] KING How fares our cousin Hamlet? HAMLET Excellent, i' faith, of the chameleon's dish. I eat the air, promise-crammed. You cannot feed capons so. KING I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet. These words are not mine. HAMLET No, nor mine now. [To Polonius.] My lord, you played once i' th' university, you say? POLONIUS That did I, my lord, and was accounted a good actor. HAMLET What did you enact? POLONIUS I did enact Julius Caesar. I was killed i' th' Capitol. Brutus killed me. HAMLET It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf there.--Be the players ready? ROSENCRANTZ Ay, my lord. They stay upon your patience. QUEEN Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me. HAMLET No, good mother. Here's metal more attractive. [Hamlet takes a place near Ophelia.] POLONIUS, [to the King] Oh, ho! Do you mark that? HAMLET Lady, shall I lie in your lap? OPHELIA No, my lord. HAMLET I mean, my head upon your lap? OPHELIA Ay, my lord. HAMLET Do you think I meant country matters? OPHELIA I think nothing, my lord. HAMLET That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs. OPHELIA What is, my lord? HAMLET Nothing. OPHELIA You are merry, my lord. HAMLET Who, I? OPHELIA Ay, my lord. HAMLET O God, your only jig-maker. What should a man do but be merry? For look you how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father died within 's two hours. OPHELIA Nay, 'tis twice two months, my lord. HAMLET So long? Nay, then, let the devil wear black, for I'll have a suit of sables. O heavens, die two months ago, and not forgotten yet? Then there's hope a great man's memory may outlive his life half a year. But, by 'r Lady, he must build churches, then, or else shall he suffer not thinking on, with the hobby-horse, whose epitaph is "For oh, for oh, the hobby-horse is forgot." [The trumpets sounds. Dumb show follows.] [Enter a King and a Queen, very lovingly, the Queen embracing him and he her. She kneels and makes show of protestation unto him. He takes her up and declines his head upon her neck. He lies him down upon a bank of flowers. She, seeing him asleep, leaves him. Anon comes in another man, takes off his crown, kisses it, pours poison in the sleeper's ears, and leaves him. The Queen returns, finds the King dead, makes passionate action. The poisoner with some three or four come in again, seem to condole with her. The dead body is carried away. The poisoner woos the Queen with gifts. She seems harsh awhile but in the end accepts his love.] [Players exit.] OPHELIA What means this, my lord? HAMLET Marry, this is miching mallecho. It means mischief. OPHELIA Belike this show imports the argument of the play. [Enter Prologue.] HAMLET We shall know by this fellow. The players cannot keep counsel; they'll tell all. OPHELIA Will he tell us what this show meant? HAMLET Ay, or any show that you will show him. Be not you ashamed to show, he'll not shame to tell you what it means. OPHELIA You are naught, you are naught. I'll mark the play. PROLOGUE For us and for our tragedy, Here stooping to your clemency, We beg your hearing patiently. [He exits.] HAMLET Is this a prologue or the posy of a ring? OPHELIA 'Tis brief, my lord. HAMLET As woman's love. [Enter the Player King and Queen.] PLAYER KING Full thirty times hath Phoebus' cart gone round Neptune's salt wash and Tellus' orbed ground, And thirty dozen moons with borrowed sheen About the world have times twelve thirties been Since love our hearts and Hymen did our hands Unite commutual in most sacred bands. PLAYER QUEEN So many journeys may the sun and moon Make us again count o'er ere love be done! But woe is me! You are so sick of late, So far from cheer and from your former state, That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust, Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must. For women fear too much, even as they love, And women's fear and love hold quantity, In neither aught, or in extremity. Now what my love is, proof hath made you know, And, as my love is sized, my fear is so: Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; Where little fears grow great, great love grows there. PLAYER KING Faith, I must leave thee, love, and shortly too. My operant powers their functions leave to do. And thou shalt live in this fair world behind, Honored, beloved; and haply one as kind For husband shalt thou-- PLAYER QUEEN O, confound the rest! Such love must needs be treason in my breast. In second husband let me be accurst. None wed the second but who killed the first. HAMLET That's wormwood! PLAYER QUEEN The instances that second marriage move Are base respects of thrift, but none of love. A second time I kill my husband dead When second husband kisses me in bed. PLAYER KING I do believe you think what now you speak, But what we do determine oft we break. Purpose is but the slave to memory, Of violent birth, but poor validity, Which now, the fruit unripe, sticks on the tree But fall unshaken when they mellow be. Most necessary 'tis that we forget To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt. What to ourselves in passion we propose, The passion ending, doth the purpose lose. The violence of either grief or joy Their own enactures with themselves destroy. Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament; Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident. This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange That even our loves should with our fortunes change; For 'tis a question left us yet to prove Whether love lead fortune or else fortune love. The great man down, you mark his favorite flies; The poor, advanced, makes friends of enemies. And hitherto doth love on fortune tend, For who not needs shall never lack a friend, And who in want a hollow friend doth try Directly seasons him his enemy. But, orderly to end where I begun: Our wills and fates do so contrary run That our devices still are overthrown; Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own. So think thou wilt no second husband wed, But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead. PLAYER QUEEN Nor Earth to me give food, nor heaven light, Sport and repose lock from me day and night, To desperation turn my trust and hope, An anchor's cheer in prison be my scope. Each opposite that blanks the face of joy Meet what I would have well and it destroy. Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife, If, once a widow, ever I be wife. HAMLET If she should break it now! PLAYER KING 'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here awhile. My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile The tedious day with sleep. [Sleeps.] PLAYER QUEEN Sleep rock thy brain, And never come mischance between us twain. [Player Queen exits.] HAMLET Madam, how like you this play? QUEEN The lady doth protest too much, methinks. HAMLET O, but she'll keep her word. KING Have you heard the argument? Is there no offense in 't? HAMLET No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest. No offense i' th' world. KING What do you call the play? HAMLET "The Mousetrap." Marry, how? Tropically. This play is the image of a murder done in Vienna. Gonzago is the duke's name, his wife Baptista. You shall see anon. 'Tis a knavish piece of work, but what of that? Your Majesty and we that have free souls, it touches us not. Let the galled jade wince; our withers are unwrung. [Enter Lucianus.] This is one Lucianus, nephew to the king. OPHELIA You are as good as a chorus, my lord. HAMLET I could interpret between you and your love, if I could see the puppets dallying. OPHELIA You are keen, my lord, you are keen. HAMLET It would cost you a groaning to take off mine edge. OPHELIA Still better and worse. HAMLET So you mis-take your husbands.--Begin, murderer. Pox, leave thy damnable faces and begin. Come, the croaking raven doth bellow for revenge. LUCIANUS Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing, Confederate season, else no creature seeing, Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected, With Hecate's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected, Thy natural magic and dire property On wholesome life usurp immediately. [Pours the poison in his ears.] HAMLET He poisons him i' th' garden for his estate. His name's Gonzago. The story is extant and written in very choice Italian. You shall see anon how the murderer gets the love of Gonzago's wife. [Claudius rises.] OPHELIA The King rises. HAMLET What, frighted with false fire? QUEEN How fares my lord? POLONIUS Give o'er the play. KING Give me some light. Away! POLONIUS Lights, lights, lights! [All but Hamlet and Horatio exit.] HAMLET Why, let the strucken deer go weep, The hart ungalled play. For some must watch, while some must sleep: Thus runs the world away. Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers (if the rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me) with two Provincial roses on my razed shoes, get me a fellowship in a cry of players? HORATIO Half a share. HAMLET A whole one, I. For thou dost know, O Damon dear, This realm dismantled was Of Jove himself, and now reigns here A very very--pajock. HORATIO You might have rhymed. HAMLET O good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word for a thousand pound. Didst perceive? HORATIO Very well, my lord. HAMLET Upon the talk of the poisoning? HORATIO I did very well note him. HAMLET Ah ha! Come, some music! Come, the recorders! For if the King like not the comedy, Why, then, belike he likes it not, perdy. Come, some music! [Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.] GUILDENSTERN Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you. HAMLET Sir, a whole history. GUILDENSTERN The King, sir-- HAMLET Ay, sir, what of him? GUILDENSTERN Is in his retirement marvelous distempered. HAMLET With drink, sir? GUILDENSTERN No, my lord, with choler. HAMLET Your wisdom should show itself more richer to signify this to the doctor, for for me to put him to his purgation would perhaps plunge him into more choler. GUILDENSTERN Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame and start not so wildly from my affair. HAMLET I am tame, sir. Pronounce. GUILDENSTERN The Queen your mother, in most great affliction of spirit, hath sent me to you. HAMLET You are welcome. GUILDENSTERN Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right breed. If it shall please you to make me a wholesome answer, I will do your mother's commandment. If not, your pardon and my return shall be the end of my business. HAMLET Sir, I cannot. ROSENCRANTZ What, my lord? HAMLET Make you a wholesome answer. My wit's diseased. But, sir, such answer as I can make, you shall command--or, rather, as you say, my mother. Therefore no more but to the matter. My mother, you say-- ROSENCRANTZ Then thus she says: your behavior hath struck her into amazement and admiration. HAMLET O wonderful son that can so 'stonish a mother! But is there no sequel at the heels of this mother's admiration? Impart. ROSENCRANTZ She desires to speak with you in her closet ere you go to bed. HAMLET We shall obey, were she ten times our mother. Have you any further trade with us? ROSENCRANTZ My lord, you once did love me. HAMLET And do still, by these pickers and stealers. ROSENCRANTZ Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? You do surely bar the door upon your own liberty if you deny your griefs to your friend. HAMLET Sir, I lack advancement. ROSENCRANTZ How can that be, when you have the voice of the King himself for your succession in Denmark? HAMLET Ay, sir, but "While the grass grows"--the proverb is something musty. [Enter the Players with recorders.] O, the recorders! Let me see one. [He takes a recorder and turns to Guildenstern.] To withdraw with you: why do you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive me into a toil? GUILDENSTERN O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly. HAMLET I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this pipe? GUILDENSTERN My lord, I cannot. HAMLET I pray you. GUILDENSTERN Believe me, I cannot. HAMLET I do beseech you. GUILDENSTERN I know no touch of it, my lord. HAMLET It is as easy as lying. Govern these ventages with your fingers and thumb, give it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music. Look you, these are the stops. GUILDENSTERN But these cannot I command to any utt'rance of harmony. I have not the skill. HAMLET Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me, you would seem to know my stops, you would pluck out the heart of my mystery, you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass; and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me. [Enter Polonius.] God bless you, sir. POLONIUS My lord, the Queen would speak with you, and presently. HAMLET Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel? POLONIUS By th' Mass, and 'tis like a camel indeed. HAMLET Methinks it is like a weasel. POLONIUS It is backed like a weasel. HAMLET Or like a whale. POLONIUS Very like a whale. HAMLET Then I will come to my mother by and by. [Aside.] They fool me to the top of my bent.--I will come by and by. POLONIUS I will say so. HAMLET "By and by" is easily said. Leave me, friends. [All but Hamlet exit.] 'Tis now the very witching time of night, When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood And do such bitter business as the day Would quake to look on. Soft, now to my mother. O heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom. Let me be cruel, not unnatural. I will speak daggers to her, but use none. My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites: How in my words somever she be shent, To give them seals never, my soul, consent. [He exits.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter King, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern.] KING I like him not, nor stands it safe with us To let his madness range. Therefore prepare you. I your commission will forthwith dispatch, And he to England shall along with you. The terms of our estate may not endure Hazard so near 's as doth hourly grow Out of his brows. GUILDENSTERN We will ourselves provide. Most holy and religious fear it is To keep those many many bodies safe That live and feed upon your Majesty. ROSENCRANTZ The single and peculiar life is bound With all the strength and armor of the mind To keep itself from noyance, but much more That spirit upon whose weal depends and rests The lives of many. The cess of majesty Dies not alone, but like a gulf doth draw What's near it with it; or it is a massy wheel Fixed on the summit of the highest mount, To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things Are mortised and adjoined, which, when it falls, Each small annexment, petty consequence, Attends the boist'rous ruin. Never alone Did the king sigh, but with a general groan. KING Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage, For we will fetters put about this fear, Which now goes too free-footed. ROSENCRANTZ We will haste us. [Rosencrantz and Guildenstern exit.] [Enter Polonius.] POLONIUS My lord, he's going to his mother's closet. Behind the arras I'll convey myself To hear the process. I'll warrant she'll tax him home; And, as you said (and wisely was it said), 'Tis meet that some more audience than a mother, Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear The speech of vantage. Fare you well, my liege. I'll call upon you ere you go to bed And tell you what I know. KING Thanks, dear my lord. [Polonius exits.] O, my offense is rank, it smells to heaven; It hath the primal eldest curse upon 't, A brother's murder. Pray can I not, Though inclination be as sharp as will. My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent, And, like a man to double business bound, I stand in pause where I shall first begin And both neglect. What if this cursed hand Were thicker than itself with brother's blood? Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy But to confront the visage of offense? And what's in prayer but this twofold force, To be forestalled ere we come to fall, Or pardoned being down? Then I'll look up. My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer Can serve my turn? "Forgive me my foul murder"? That cannot be, since I am still possessed Of those effects for which I did the murder: My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen. May one be pardoned and retain th' offense? In the corrupted currents of this world, Offense's gilded hand may shove by justice, And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself Buys out the law. But 'tis not so above: There is no shuffling; there the action lies In his true nature, and we ourselves compelled, Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, To give in evidence. What then? What rests? Try what repentance can. What can it not? Yet what can it, when one cannot repent? O wretched state! O bosom black as death! O limed soul, that, struggling to be free, Art more engaged! Help, angels! Make assay. Bow, stubborn knees, and heart with strings of steel Be soft as sinews of the newborn babe. All may be well. [He kneels.] [Enter Hamlet.] HAMLET Now might I do it pat, now he is a-praying, And now I'll do 't. [He draws his sword.] And so he goes to heaven, And so am I revenged. That would be scanned: A villain kills my father, and for that, I, his sole son, do this same villain send To heaven. Why, this is hire and salary, not revenge. He took my father grossly, full of bread, With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May; And how his audit stands who knows save heaven. But in our circumstance and course of thought 'Tis heavy with him. And am I then revenged To take him in the purging of his soul, When he is fit and seasoned for his passage? No. Up sword, and know thou a more horrid hent. [He sheathes his sword.] When he is drunk asleep, or in his rage, Or in th' incestuous pleasure of his bed, At game, a-swearing, or about some act That has no relish of salvation in 't-- Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven, And that his soul may be as damned and black As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays. This physic but prolongs thy sickly days. [Hamlet exits.] KING, [rising] My words fly up, my thoughts remain below; Words without thoughts never to heaven go. [He exits.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Queen and Polonius.] POLONIUS He will come straight. Look you lay home to him. Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with And that your Grace hath screened and stood between Much heat and him. I'll silence me even here. Pray you, be round with him. HAMLET, [within] Mother, mother, mother! QUEEN I'll warrant you. Fear me not. Withdraw, I hear him coming. [Polonius hides behind the arras.] [Enter Hamlet.] HAMLET Now, mother, what's the matter? QUEEN Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended. HAMLET Mother, you have my father much offended. QUEEN Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue. HAMLET Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue. QUEEN Why, how now, Hamlet? HAMLET What's the matter now? QUEEN Have you forgot me? HAMLET No, by the rood, not so. You are the Queen, your husband's brother's wife, And (would it were not so) you are my mother. QUEEN Nay, then I'll set those to you that can speak. HAMLET Come, come, and sit you down; you shall not budge. You go not till I set you up a glass Where you may see the inmost part of you. QUEEN What wilt thou do? Thou wilt not murder me? Help, ho! POLONIUS, [behind the arras] What ho! Help! HAMLET How now, a rat? Dead for a ducat, dead. [He kills Polonius by thrusting a rapier through the arras.] POLONIUS, [behind the arras] O, I am slain! QUEEN O me, what hast thou done? HAMLET Nay, I know not. Is it the King? QUEEN O, what a rash and bloody deed is this! HAMLET A bloody deed--almost as bad, good mother, As kill a king and marry with his brother. QUEEN As kill a king? HAMLET Ay, lady, it was my word. [He pulls Polonius' body from behind the arras.] Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell. I took thee for thy better. Take thy fortune. Thou find'st to be too busy is some danger. [To Queen.] Leave wringing of your hands. Peace, sit you down, And let me wring your heart; for so I shall If it be made of penetrable stuff, If damned custom have not brazed it so That it be proof and bulwark against sense. QUEEN What have I done, that thou dar'st wag thy tongue In noise so rude against me? HAMLET Such an act That blurs the grace and blush of modesty, Calls virtue hypocrite, takes off the rose From the fair forehead of an innocent love And sets a blister there, makes marriage vows As false as dicers' oaths--O, such a deed As from the body of contraction plucks The very soul, and sweet religion makes A rhapsody of words! Heaven's face does glow O'er this solidity and compound mass With heated visage, as against the doom, Is thought-sick at the act. QUEEN Ay me, what act That roars so loud and thunders in the index? HAMLET Look here upon this picture and on this, The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. See what a grace was seated on this brow, Hyperion's curls, the front of Jove himself, An eye like Mars' to threaten and command, A station like the herald Mercury New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill, A combination and a form indeed Where every god did seem to set his seal To give the world assurance of a man. This was your husband. Look you now what follows. Here is your husband, like a mildewed ear Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes? Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed And batten on this moor? Ha! Have you eyes? You cannot call it love, for at your age The heyday in the blood is tame, it's humble And waits upon the judgment; and what judgment Would step from this to this? Sense sure you have, Else could you not have motion; but sure that sense Is apoplexed; for madness would not err, Nor sense to ecstasy was ne'er so thralled, But it reserved some quantity of choice To serve in such a difference. What devil was 't That thus hath cozened you at hoodman-blind? Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight, Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all, Or but a sickly part of one true sense Could not so mope. O shame, where is thy blush? Rebellious hell, If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones, To flaming youth let virtue be as wax And melt in her own fire. Proclaim no shame When the compulsive ardor gives the charge, Since frost itself as actively doth burn, And reason panders will. QUEEN O Hamlet, speak no more! Thou turn'st my eyes into my very soul, And there I see such black and grained spots As will not leave their tinct. HAMLET Nay, but to live In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed, Stewed in corruption, honeying and making love Over the nasty sty! QUEEN O, speak to me no more! These words like daggers enter in my ears. No more, sweet Hamlet! HAMLET A murderer and a villain, A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings, A cutpurse of the empire and the rule, That from a shelf the precious diadem stole And put it in his pocket-- QUEEN No more! HAMLET A king of shreds and patches-- [Enter Ghost.] Save me and hover o'er me with your wings, You heavenly guards!--What would your gracious figure? QUEEN Alas, he's mad. HAMLET Do you not come your tardy son to chide, That, lapsed in time and passion, lets go by Th' important acting of your dread command? O, say! GHOST Do not forget. This visitation Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose. But look, amazement on thy mother sits. O, step between her and her fighting soul. Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works. Speak to her, Hamlet. HAMLET How is it with you, lady? QUEEN Alas, how is 't with you, That you do bend your eye on vacancy And with th' incorporal air do hold discourse? Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep, And, as the sleeping soldiers in th' alarm, Your bedded hair, like life in excrements, Start up and stand an end. O gentle son, Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper Sprinkle cool patience! Whereon do you look? HAMLET On him, on him! Look you how pale he glares. His form and cause conjoined, preaching to stones, Would make them capable. [To the Ghost.] Do not look upon me, Lest with this piteous action you convert My stern effects. Then what I have to do Will want true color--tears perchance for blood. QUEEN To whom do you speak this? HAMLET Do you see nothing there? QUEEN Nothing at all; yet all that is I see. HAMLET Nor did you nothing hear? QUEEN No, nothing but ourselves. HAMLET Why, look you there, look how it steals away! My father, in his habit as he lived! Look where he goes even now out at the portal! [Ghost exits.] QUEEN This is the very coinage of your brain. This bodiless creation ecstasy Is very cunning in. HAMLET Ecstasy? My pulse as yours doth temperately keep time And makes as healthful music. It is not madness That I have uttered. Bring me to the test, And I the matter will reword, which madness Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace, Lay not that flattering unction to your soul That not your trespass but my madness speaks. It will but skin and film the ulcerous place, Whiles rank corruption, mining all within, Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven, Repent what's past, avoid what is to come, And do not spread the compost on the weeds To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue, For, in the fatness of these pursy times, Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg, Yea, curb and woo for leave to do him good. QUEEN O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain! HAMLET O, throw away the worser part of it, And live the purer with the other half! Good night. But go not to my uncle's bed. Assume a virtue if you have it not. That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat, Of habits devil, is angel yet in this, That to the use of actions fair and good He likewise gives a frock or livery That aptly is put on. Refrain tonight, And that shall lend a kind of easiness To the next abstinence, the next more easy; For use almost can change the stamp of nature And either ... the devil or throw him out With wondrous potency. Once more, good night, And, when you are desirous to be blest, I'll blessing beg of you. For this same lord [Pointing to Polonius.] I do repent; but heaven hath pleased it so To punish me with this and this with me, That I must be their scourge and minister. I will bestow him and will answer well The death I gave him. So, again, good night. I must be cruel only to be kind. This bad begins, and worse remains behind. One word more, good lady. QUEEN What shall I do? HAMLET Not this by no means that I bid you do: Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed, Pinch wanton on your cheek, call you his mouse, And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses Or paddling in your neck with his damned fingers, Make you to ravel all this matter out That I essentially am not in madness, But mad in craft. 'Twere good you let him know, For who that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise, Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib, Such dear concernings hide? Who would do so? No, in despite of sense and secrecy, Unpeg the basket on the house's top, Let the birds fly, and like the famous ape, To try conclusions, in the basket creep And break your own neck down. QUEEN Be thou assured, if words be made of breath And breath of life, I have no life to breathe What thou hast said to me. HAMLET I must to England, you know that. QUEEN Alack, I had forgot! 'Tis so concluded on. HAMLET There's letters sealed; and my two schoolfellows, Whom I will trust as I will adders fanged, They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way And marshal me to knavery. Let it work, For 'tis the sport to have the enginer Hoist with his own petard; and 't shall go hard But I will delve one yard below their mines And blow them at the moon. O, 'tis most sweet When in one line two crafts directly meet. This man shall set me packing. I'll lug the guts into the neighbor room. Mother, good night indeed. This counselor Is now most still, most secret, and most grave, Who was in life a foolish prating knave.-- Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you.-- Good night, mother. [They exit, Hamlet tugging in Polonius.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter King and Queen, with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.] KING There's matter in these sighs; these profound heaves You must translate; 'tis fit we understand them. Where is your son? QUEEN Bestow this place on us a little while. [Rosencrantz and Guildenstern exit.] Ah, mine own lord, what have I seen tonight! KING What, Gertrude? How does Hamlet? QUEEN Mad as the sea and wind when both contend Which is the mightier. In his lawless fit, Behind the arras hearing something stir, Whips out his rapier, cries "A rat, a rat," And in this brainish apprehension kills The unseen good old man. KING O heavy deed! It had been so with us, had we been there. His liberty is full of threats to all-- To you yourself, to us, to everyone. Alas, how shall this bloody deed be answered? It will be laid to us, whose providence Should have kept short, restrained, and out of haunt This mad young man. But so much was our love, We would not understand what was most fit, But, like the owner of a foul disease, To keep it from divulging, let it feed Even on the pith of life. Where is he gone? QUEEN To draw apart the body he hath killed, O'er whom his very madness, like some ore Among a mineral of metals base, Shows itself pure: he weeps for what is done. KING O Gertrude, come away! The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch But we will ship him hence; and this vile deed We must with all our majesty and skill Both countenance and excuse.--Ho, Guildenstern! [Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.] Friends both, go join you with some further aid. Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain, And from his mother's closet hath he dragged him. Go seek him out, speak fair, and bring the body Into the chapel. I pray you, haste in this. [Rosencrantz and Guildenstern exit.] Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends And let them know both what we mean to do And what's untimely done. ... Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter, As level as the cannon to his blank Transports his poisoned shot, may miss our name And hit the woundless air. O, come away! My soul is full of discord and dismay. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Hamlet.] HAMLET Safely stowed. GENTLEMEN, [within] Hamlet! Lord Hamlet! HAMLET But soft, what noise? Who calls on Hamlet? O, here they come. [Enter Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and others.] ROSENCRANTZ What have you done, my lord, with the dead body? HAMLET Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin. ROSENCRANTZ Tell us where 'tis, that we may take it thence And bear it to the chapel. HAMLET Do not believe it. ROSENCRANTZ Believe what? HAMLET That I can keep your counsel and not mine own. Besides, to be demanded of a sponge, what replication should be made by the son of a king? ROSENCRANTZ Take you me for a sponge, my lord? HAMLET Ay, sir, that soaks up the King's countenance, his rewards, his authorities. But such officers do the King best service in the end. He keeps them like an ape an apple in the corner of his jaw, first mouthed, to be last swallowed. When he needs what you have gleaned, it is but squeezing you, and, sponge, you shall be dry again. ROSENCRANTZ I understand you not, my lord. HAMLET I am glad of it. A knavish speech sleeps in a foolish ear. ROSENCRANTZ My lord, you must tell us where the body is and go with us to the King. HAMLET The body is with the King, but the King is not with the body. The King is a thing-- GUILDENSTERN A "thing," my lord? HAMLET Of nothing. Bring me to him. Hide fox, and all after! [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter King and two or three.] KING I have sent to seek him and to find the body. How dangerous is it that this man goes loose! Yet must not we put the strong law on him. He's loved of the distracted multitude, Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes; And, where 'tis so, th' offender's scourge is weighed, But never the offense. To bear all smooth and even, This sudden sending him away must seem Deliberate pause. Diseases desperate grown By desperate appliance are relieved Or not at all. [Enter Rosencrantz.] How now, what hath befallen? ROSENCRANTZ Where the dead body is bestowed, my lord, We cannot get from him. KING But where is he? ROSENCRANTZ Without, my lord; guarded, to know your pleasure. KING Bring him before us. ROSENCRANTZ Ho! Bring in the lord. [They enter with Hamlet.] KING Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius? HAMLET At supper. KING At supper where? HAMLET Not where he eats, but where he is eaten. A certain convocation of politic worms are e'en at him. Your worm is your only emperor for diet. We fat all creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for maggots. Your fat king and your lean beggar is but variable service--two dishes but to one table. That's the end. KING Alas, alas! HAMLET A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm. KING What dost thou mean by this? HAMLET Nothing but to show you how a king may go a progress through the guts of a beggar. KING Where is Polonius? HAMLET In heaven. Send thither to see. If your messenger find him not there, seek him i' th' other place yourself. But if, indeed, you find him not within this month, you shall nose him as you go up the stairs into the lobby. KING, [to Attendants.] Go, seek him there. HAMLET He will stay till you come. [Attendants exit.] KING Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety (Which we do tender, as we dearly grieve For that which thou hast done) must send thee hence With fiery quickness. Therefore prepare thyself. The bark is ready, and the wind at help, Th' associates tend, and everything is bent For England. HAMLET For England? KING Ay, Hamlet. HAMLET Good. KING So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes. HAMLET I see a cherub that sees them. But come, for England. Farewell, dear mother. KING Thy loving father, Hamlet. HAMLET My mother. Father and mother is man and wife, Man and wife is one flesh, and so, my mother.-- Come, for England. [He exits.] KING Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed aboard. Delay it not. I'll have him hence tonight. Away, for everything is sealed and done That else leans on th' affair. Pray you, make haste. [All but the King exit.] And England, if my love thou hold'st at aught (As my great power thereof may give thee sense, Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red After the Danish sword, and thy free awe Pays homage to us), thou mayst not coldly set Our sovereign process, which imports at full, By letters congruing to that effect, The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England, For like the hectic in my blood he rages, And thou must cure me. Till I know 'tis done, Howe'er my haps, my joys will ne'er begin. [He exits.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Fortinbras with his army over the stage.] FORTINBRAS Go, Captain, from me greet the Danish king. Tell him that by his license Fortinbras Craves the conveyance of a promised march Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous. If that his Majesty would aught with us, We shall express our duty in his eye; And let him know so. CAPTAIN I will do 't, my lord. FORTINBRAS Go softly on. [All but the Captain exit.] [Enter Hamlet, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and others.] HAMLET Good sir, whose powers are these? CAPTAIN They are of Norway, sir. HAMLET How purposed, sir, I pray you? CAPTAIN Against some part of Poland. HAMLET Who commands them, sir? CAPTAIN The nephew to old Norway, Fortinbras. HAMLET Goes it against the main of Poland, sir, Or for some frontier? CAPTAIN Truly to speak, and with no addition, We go to gain a little patch of ground That hath in it no profit but the name. To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it; Nor will it yield to Norway or the Pole A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee. HAMLET Why, then, the Polack never will defend it. CAPTAIN Yes, it is already garrisoned. HAMLET Two thousand souls and twenty thousand ducats Will not debate the question of this straw. This is th' impostume of much wealth and peace, That inward breaks and shows no cause without Why the man dies.--I humbly thank you, sir. CAPTAIN God be wi' you, sir. [He exits.] ROSENCRANTZ Will 't please you go, my lord? HAMLET I'll be with you straight. Go a little before. [All but Hamlet exit.] How all occasions do inform against me And spur my dull revenge. What is a man If his chief good and market of his time Be but to sleep and feed? A beast, no more. Sure He that made us with such large discourse, Looking before and after, gave us not That capability and godlike reason To fust in us unused. Now whether it be Bestial oblivion or some craven scruple Of thinking too precisely on th' event (A thought which, quartered, hath but one part wisdom And ever three parts coward), I do not know Why yet I live to say "This thing's to do," Sith I have cause, and will, and strength, and means To do 't. Examples gross as Earth exhort me: Witness this army of such mass and charge, Led by a delicate and tender prince, Whose spirit with divine ambition puffed Makes mouths at the invisible event, Exposing what is mortal and unsure To all that fortune, death, and danger dare, Even for an eggshell. Rightly to be great Is not to stir without great argument, But greatly to find quarrel in a straw When honor's at the stake. How stand I, then, That have a father killed, a mother stained, Excitements of my reason and my blood, And let all sleep, while to my shame I see The imminent death of twenty thousand men That for a fantasy and trick of fame Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause, Which is not tomb enough and continent To hide the slain? O, from this time forth My thoughts be bloody or be nothing worth! [He exits.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Horatio, Queen, and a Gentleman.] QUEEN I will not speak with her. GENTLEMAN She is importunate, Indeed distract; her mood will needs be pitied. QUEEN What would she have? GENTLEMAN She speaks much of her father, says she hears There's tricks i' th' world, and hems, and beats her heart, Spurns enviously at straws, speaks things in doubt That carry but half sense. Her speech is nothing, Yet the unshaped use of it doth move The hearers to collection. They aim at it And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts; Which, as her winks and nods and gestures yield them, Indeed would make one think there might be thought, Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily. HORATIO 'Twere good she were spoken with, for she may strew Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds. QUEEN Let her come in. [Gentleman exits.] [Aside.] To my sick soul (as sin's true nature is), Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss. So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt. [Enter Ophelia distracted.] OPHELIA Where is the beauteous Majesty of Denmark? QUEEN How now, Ophelia? OPHELIA [sings] How should I your true love know From another one? By his cockle hat and staff And his sandal shoon. QUEEN Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song? OPHELIA Say you? Nay, pray you, mark. [Sings.] He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone. Oh, ho! QUEEN Nay, but Ophelia-- OPHELIA Pray you, mark. [Sings.] White his shroud as the mountain snow-- [Enter King.] QUEEN Alas, look here, my lord. OPHELIA [sings] Larded all with sweet flowers; Which bewept to the ground did not go With true-love showers. KING How do you, pretty lady? OPHELIA Well, God dild you. They say the owl was a baker's daughter. Lord, we know what we are but know not what we may be. God be at your table. KING Conceit upon her father. OPHELIA Pray let's have no words of this, but when they ask you what it means, say you this: [Sings.] Tomorrow is Saint Valentine's day, All in the morning betime, And I a maid at your window, To be your Valentine. Then up he rose and donned his clothes And dupped the chamber door, Let in the maid, that out a maid Never departed more. KING Pretty Ophelia-- OPHELIA Indeed, without an oath, I'll make an end on 't: [Sings.] By Gis and by Saint Charity, Alack and fie for shame, Young men will do 't, if they come to 't; By Cock, they are to blame. Quoth she "Before you tumbled me, You promised me to wed." He answers: "So would I 'a done, by yonder sun, An thou hadst not come to my bed." KING How long hath she been thus? OPHELIA I hope all will be well. We must be patient, but I cannot choose but weep to think they would lay him i' th' cold ground. My brother shall know of it. And so I thank you for your good counsel. Come, my coach! Good night, ladies, good night, sweet ladies, good night, good night. [She exits.] KING Follow her close; give her good watch, I pray you. [Horatio exits.] O, this is the poison of deep grief. It springs All from her father's death, and now behold! O Gertrude, Gertrude, When sorrows come, they come not single spies, But in battalions: first, her father slain; Next, your son gone, and he most violent author Of his own just remove; the people muddied, Thick, and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers For good Polonius' death, and we have done but greenly In hugger-mugger to inter him; poor Ophelia Divided from herself and her fair judgment, Without the which we are pictures or mere beasts; Last, and as much containing as all these, Her brother is in secret come from France, Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds, And wants not buzzers to infect his ear With pestilent speeches of his father's death, Wherein necessity, of matter beggared, Will nothing stick our person to arraign In ear and ear. O, my dear Gertrude, this, Like to a murd'ring piece, in many places Gives me superfluous death. [A noise within.] QUEEN Alack, what noise is this? KING Attend! Where is my Switzers? Let them guard the door. [Enter a Messenger.] What is the matter? MESSENGER Save yourself, my lord. The ocean, overpeering of his list, Eats not the flats with more impiteous haste Than young Laertes, in a riotous head, O'erbears your officers. The rabble call him "lord," And, as the world were now but to begin, Antiquity forgot, custom not known, The ratifiers and props of every word, They cry "Choose we, Laertes shall be king!" Caps, hands, and tongues applaud it to the clouds, "Laertes shall be king! Laertes king!" [A noise within.] QUEEN How cheerfully on the false trail they cry. O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs! KING The doors are broke. [Enter Laertes with others. ] LAERTES Where is this king?--Sirs, stand you all without. ALL No, let's come in! LAERTES I pray you, give me leave. ALL We will, we will. LAERTES I thank you. Keep the door. [Followers exit.] O, thou vile king, Give me my father! QUEEN Calmly, good Laertes. LAERTES That drop of blood that's calm proclaims me bastard, Cries "cuckold" to my father, brands the harlot Even here between the chaste unsmirched brow Of my true mother. KING What is the cause, Laertes, That thy rebellion looks so giant-like?-- Let him go, Gertrude. Do not fear our person. There's such divinity doth hedge a king That treason can but peep to what it would, Acts little of his will.--Tell me, Laertes, Why thou art thus incensed.--Let him go, Gertrude.-- Speak, man. LAERTES Where is my father? KING Dead. QUEEN But not by him. KING Let him demand his fill. LAERTES How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with. To hell, allegiance! Vows, to the blackest devil! Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit! I dare damnation. To this point I stand, That both the worlds I give to negligence, Let come what comes, only I'll be revenged Most throughly for my father. KING Who shall stay you? LAERTES My will, not all the world. And for my means, I'll husband them so well They shall go far with little. KING Good Laertes, If you desire to know the certainty Of your dear father, is 't writ in your revenge That, swoopstake, you will draw both friend and foe, Winner and loser? LAERTES None but his enemies. KING Will you know them, then? LAERTES To his good friends thus wide I'll ope my arms And, like the kind life-rend'ring pelican, Repast them with my blood. KING Why, now you speak Like a good child and a true gentleman. That I am guiltless of your father's death And am most sensibly in grief for it, It shall as level to your judgment 'pear As day does to your eye. [A noise within:] "Let her come in!" LAERTES How now, what noise is that? [Enter Ophelia.] O heat, dry up my brains! Tears seven times salt Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye! By heaven, thy madness shall be paid with weight Till our scale turn the beam! O rose of May, Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia! O heavens, is 't possible a young maid's wits Should be as mortal as an old man's life? Nature is fine in love, and, where 'tis fine, It sends some precious instance of itself After the thing it loves. OPHELIA [sings] They bore him barefaced on the bier, Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny, And in his grave rained many a tear. Fare you well, my dove. LAERTES Hadst thou thy wits and didst persuade revenge, It could not move thus. OPHELIA You must sing "A-down a-down"--and you "Call him a-down-a."--O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward that stole his master's daughter. LAERTES This nothing's more than matter. OPHELIA There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember. And there is pansies, that's for thoughts. LAERTES A document in madness: thoughts and remembrance fitted. OPHELIA There's fennel for you, and columbines. There's rue for you, and here's some for me; we may call it herb of grace o' Sundays. You must wear your rue with a difference. There's a daisy. I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died. They say he made a good end. [Sings.] For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy. LAERTES Thought and afflictions, passion, hell itself She turns to favor and to prettiness. OPHELIA [sings] And will he not come again? And will he not come again? No, no, he is dead. Go to thy deathbed. He never will come again. His beard was as white as snow, All flaxen was his poll. He is gone, he is gone, And we cast away moan. God 'a mercy on his soul. And of all Christians' souls, I pray God. God be wi' you. [She exits.] LAERTES Do you see this, O God? KING Laertes, I must commune with your grief, Or you deny me right. Go but apart, Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will, And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and me. If by direct or by collateral hand They find us touched, we will our kingdom give, Our crown, our life, and all that we call ours, To you in satisfaction; but if not, Be you content to lend your patience to us, And we shall jointly labor with your soul To give it due content. LAERTES Let this be so. His means of death, his obscure funeral (No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones, No noble rite nor formal ostentation) Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heaven to earth, That I must call 't in question. KING So you shall, And where th' offense is, let the great ax fall. I pray you, go with me. [They exit.] Scene 6 ======= [Enter Horatio and others.] HORATIO What are they that would speak with me? GENTLEMAN Seafaring men, sir. They say they have letters for you. HORATIO Let them come in. [Gentleman exits.] I do not know from what part of the world I should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet. [Enter Sailors.] SAILOR God bless you, sir. HORATIO Let Him bless thee too. SAILOR He shall, sir, an 't please Him. There's a letter for you, sir. It came from th' ambassador that was bound for England--if your name be Horatio, as I am let to know it is. [He hands Horatio a letter.] HORATIO [reads the letter] Horatio, when thou shalt have overlooked this, give these fellows some means to the King. They have letters for him. Ere we were two days old at sea, a pirate of very warlike appointment gave us chase. Finding ourselves too slow of sail, we put on a compelled valor, and in the grapple I boarded them. On the instant, they got clear of our ship; so I alone became their prisoner. They have dealt with me like thieves of mercy, but they knew what they did: I am to do a good turn for them. Let the King have the letters I have sent, and repair thou to me with as much speed as thou wouldst fly death. I have words to speak in thine ear will make thee dumb; yet are they much too light for the bore of the matter. These good fellows will bring thee where I am. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern hold their course for England; of them I have much to tell thee. Farewell. He that thou knowest thine, Hamlet. Come, I will give you way for these your letters And do 't the speedier that you may direct me To him from whom you brought them. [They exit.] Scene 7 ======= [Enter King and Laertes.] KING Now must your conscience my acquittance seal, And you must put me in your heart for friend, Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear, That he which hath your noble father slain Pursued my life. LAERTES It well appears. But tell me Why you proceeded not against these feats, So criminal and so capital in nature, As by your safety, greatness, wisdom, all things else, You mainly were stirred up. KING O, for two special reasons, Which may to you perhaps seem much unsinewed, But yet to me they're strong. The Queen his mother Lives almost by his looks, and for myself (My virtue or my plague, be it either which), She is so conjunctive to my life and soul That, as the star moves not but in his sphere, I could not but by her. The other motive Why to a public count I might not go Is the great love the general gender bear him, Who, dipping all his faults in their affection, Work like the spring that turneth wood to stone, Convert his gyves to graces, so that my arrows, Too slightly timbered for so loud a wind, Would have reverted to my bow again, But not where I have aimed them. LAERTES And so have I a noble father lost, A sister driven into desp'rate terms, Whose worth, if praises may go back again, Stood challenger on mount of all the age For her perfections. But my revenge will come. KING Break not your sleeps for that. You must not think That we are made of stuff so flat and dull That we can let our beard be shook with danger And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more. I loved your father, and we love ourself, And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine-- [Enter a Messenger with letters.] How now? What news? MESSENGER Letters, my lord, from Hamlet. These to your Majesty, this to the Queen. KING From Hamlet? Who brought them? MESSENGER Sailors, my lord, they say. I saw them not. They were given me by Claudio. He received them Of him that brought them. KING Laertes, you shall hear them.-- Leave us. [Messenger exits.] [Reads.] High and mighty, you shall know I am set naked on your kingdom. Tomorrow shall I beg leave to see your kingly eyes, when I shall (first asking your pardon) thereunto recount the occasion of my sudden and more strange return. Hamlet. What should this mean? Are all the rest come back? Or is it some abuse and no such thing? LAERTES Know you the hand? KING 'Tis Hamlet's character. "Naked"-- And in a postscript here, he says "alone." Can you advise me? LAERTES I am lost in it, my lord. But let him come. It warms the very sickness in my heart That I shall live and tell him to his teeth "Thus didst thou." KING If it be so, Laertes (As how should it be so? how otherwise?), Will you be ruled by me? LAERTES Ay, my lord, So you will not o'errule me to a peace. KING To thine own peace. If he be now returned, As checking at his voyage, and that he means No more to undertake it, I will work him To an exploit, now ripe in my device, Under the which he shall not choose but fall; And for his death no wind of blame shall breathe, But even his mother shall uncharge the practice And call it accident. LAERTES My lord, I will be ruled, The rather if you could devise it so That I might be the organ. KING It falls right. You have been talked of since your travel much, And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality Wherein they say you shine. Your sum of parts Did not together pluck such envy from him As did that one, and that, in my regard, Of the unworthiest siege. LAERTES What part is that, my lord? KING A very ribbon in the cap of youth-- Yet needful too, for youth no less becomes The light and careless livery that it wears Than settled age his sables and his weeds, Importing health and graveness. Two months since Here was a gentleman of Normandy. I have seen myself, and served against, the French, And they can well on horseback, but this gallant Had witchcraft in 't. He grew unto his seat, And to such wondrous doing brought his horse As had he been encorpsed and demi-natured With the brave beast. So far he topped my thought That I in forgery of shapes and tricks Come short of what he did. LAERTES A Norman was 't? KING A Norman. LAERTES Upon my life, Lamord. KING The very same. LAERTES I know him well. He is the brooch indeed And gem of all the nation. KING He made confession of you And gave you such a masterly report For art and exercise in your defense, And for your rapier most especial, That he cried out 'twould be a sight indeed If one could match you. The 'scrimers of their nation He swore had neither motion, guard, nor eye, If you opposed them. Sir, this report of his Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy That he could nothing do but wish and beg Your sudden coming-o'er, to play with you. Now out of this-- LAERTES What out of this, my lord? KING Laertes, was your father dear to you? Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, A face without a heart? LAERTES Why ask you this? KING Not that I think you did not love your father, But that I know love is begun by time And that I see, in passages of proof, Time qualifies the spark and fire of it. There lives within the very flame of love A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it, And nothing is at a like goodness still; For goodness, growing to a pleurisy, Dies in his own too-much. That we would do We should do when we would; for this "would" changes And hath abatements and delays as many As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents; And then this "should" is like a spendthrift sigh, That hurts by easing. But to the quick of th' ulcer: Hamlet comes back; what would you undertake To show yourself indeed your father's son More than in words? LAERTES To cut his throat i' th' church. KING No place indeed should murder sanctuarize; Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes, Will you do this? Keep close within your chamber. Hamlet, returned, shall know you are come home. We'll put on those shall praise your excellence And set a double varnish on the fame The Frenchman gave you; bring you, in fine, together And wager on your heads. He, being remiss, Most generous, and free from all contriving, Will not peruse the foils, so that with ease, Or with a little shuffling, you may choose A sword unbated, and in a pass of practice Requite him for your father. LAERTES I will do 't, And for that purpose I'll anoint my sword. I bought an unction of a mountebank So mortal that, but dip a knife in it, Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare, Collected from all simples that have virtue Under the moon, can save the thing from death That is but scratched withal. I'll touch my point With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly, It may be death. KING Let's further think of this, Weigh what convenience both of time and means May fit us to our shape. If this should fail, And that our drift look through our bad performance, 'Twere better not assayed. Therefore this project Should have a back or second that might hold If this did blast in proof. Soft, let me see. We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings-- I ha 't! When in your motion you are hot and dry (As make your bouts more violent to that end) And that he calls for drink, I'll have prepared him A chalice for the nonce, whereon but sipping, If he by chance escape your venomed stuck, Our purpose may hold there.--But stay, what noise? [Enter Queen.] QUEEN One woe doth tread upon another's heel, So fast they follow. Your sister's drowned, Laertes. LAERTES Drowned? O, where? QUEEN There is a willow grows askant the brook That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream. Therewith fantastic garlands did she make Of crowflowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples, That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, But our cold maids do "dead men's fingers" call them. There on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds Clamb'ring to hang, an envious sliver broke, When down her weedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide, And mermaid-like awhile they bore her up, Which time she chanted snatches of old lauds, As one incapable of her own distress Or like a creature native and endued Unto that element. But long it could not be Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, Pulled the poor wretch from her melodious lay To muddy death. LAERTES Alas, then she is drowned. QUEEN Drowned, drowned. LAERTES Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, And therefore I forbid my tears. But yet It is our trick; nature her custom holds, Let shame say what it will. When these are gone, The woman will be out.--Adieu, my lord. I have a speech o' fire that fain would blaze, But that this folly drowns it. [He exits.] KING Let's follow, Gertrude. How much I had to do to calm his rage! Now fear I this will give it start again. Therefore, let's follow. [They exit.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Gravedigger and Another.] GRAVEDIGGER Is she to be buried in Christian burial, when she willfully seeks her own salvation? OTHER I tell thee she is. Therefore make her grave straight. The crowner hath sat on her and finds it Christian burial. GRAVEDIGGER How can that be, unless she drowned herself in her own defense? OTHER Why, 'tis found so. GRAVEDIGGER It must be se offendendo; it cannot be else. For here lies the point: if I drown myself wittingly, it argues an act, and an act hath three branches--it is to act, to do, to perform. Argal, she drowned herself wittingly. OTHER Nay, but hear you, goodman delver-- GRAVEDIGGER Give me leave. Here lies the water; good. Here stands the man; good. If the man go to this water and drown himself, it is (will he, nill he) he goes; mark you that. But if the water come to him and drown him, he drowns not himself. Argal, he that is not guilty of his own death shortens not his own life. OTHER But is this law? GRAVEDIGGER Ay, marry, is 't--crowner's 'quest law. OTHER Will you ha' the truth on 't? If this had not been a gentlewoman, she should have been buried out o' Christian burial. GRAVEDIGGER Why, there thou sayst. And the more pity that great folk should have count'nance in this world to drown or hang themselves more than their even-Christian. Come, my spade. There is no ancient gentlemen but gard'ners, ditchers, and grave-makers. They hold up Adam's profession. OTHER Was he a gentleman? GRAVEDIGGER He was the first that ever bore arms. OTHER Why, he had none. GRAVEDIGGER What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand the scripture? The scripture says Adam digged. Could he dig without arms? I'll put another question to thee. If thou answerest me not to the purpose, confess thyself-- OTHER Go to! GRAVEDIGGER What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter? OTHER The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand tenants. GRAVEDIGGER I like thy wit well, in good faith. The gallows does well. But how does it well? It does well to those that do ill. Now, thou dost ill to say the gallows is built stronger than the church. Argal, the gallows may do well to thee. To 't again, come. OTHER "Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or a carpenter?" GRAVEDIGGER Ay, tell me that, and unyoke. OTHER Marry, now I can tell. GRAVEDIGGER To 't. OTHER Mass, I cannot tell. [Enter Hamlet and Horatio afar off.] GRAVEDIGGER Cudgel thy brains no more about it, for your dull ass will not mend his pace with beating. And, when you are asked this question next, say "a grave-maker." The houses he makes lasts till doomsday. Go, get thee in, and fetch me a stoup of liquor. [The Other Man exits and the Gravedigger digs and sings.] In youth when I did love, did love, Methought it was very sweet To contract--O--the time for--a--my behove, O, methought there--a--was nothing--a--meet. HAMLET Has this fellow no feeling of his business? He sings in grave-making. HORATIO Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness. HAMLET 'Tis e'en so. The hand of little employment hath the daintier sense. GRAVEDIGGER [sings] But age with his stealing steps Hath clawed me in his clutch, And hath shipped me into the land, As if I had never been such. [He digs up a skull.] HAMLET That skull had a tongue in it and could sing once. How the knave jowls it to the ground as if 'twere Cain's jawbone, that did the first murder! This might be the pate of a politician which this ass now o'erreaches, one that would circumvent God, might it not? HORATIO It might, my lord. HAMLET Or of a courtier, which could say "Good morrow, sweet lord! How dost thou, sweet lord?" This might be my Lord Such-a-one that praised my Lord Such-a-one's horse when he went to beg it, might it not? HORATIO Ay, my lord. HAMLET Why, e'en so. And now my Lady Worm's, chapless and knocked about the mazard with a sexton's spade. Here's fine revolution, an we had the trick to see 't. Did these bones cost no more the breeding but to play at loggets with them? Mine ache to think on 't. GRAVEDIGGER [sings] A pickax and a spade, a spade, For and a shrouding sheet, O, a pit of clay for to be made For such a guest is meet. [He digs up more skulls.] HAMLET There's another. Why may not that be the skull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddities now, his quillities, his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? Why does he suffer this mad knave now to knock him about the sconce with a dirty shovel and will not tell him of his action of battery? Hum, this fellow might be in 's time a great buyer of land, with his statutes, his recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers, his recoveries. Is this the fine of his fines and the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine pate full of fine dirt? Will his vouchers vouch him no more of his purchases, and double ones too, than the length and breadth of a pair of indentures? The very conveyances of his lands will scarcely lie in this box, and must th' inheritor himself have no more, ha? HORATIO Not a jot more, my lord. HAMLET Is not parchment made of sheepskins? HORATIO Ay, my lord, and of calves' skins too. HAMLET They are sheep and calves which seek out assurance in that. I will speak to this fellow.-- Whose grave's this, sirrah? GRAVEDIGGER Mine, sir. [Sings.] O, a pit of clay for to be made For such a guest is meet. HAMLET I think it be thine indeed, for thou liest in 't. GRAVEDIGGER You lie out on 't, sir, and therefore 'tis not yours. For my part, I do not lie in 't, yet it is mine. HAMLET Thou dost lie in 't, to be in 't and say it is thine. 'Tis for the dead, not for the quick; therefore thou liest. GRAVEDIGGER 'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away again from me to you. HAMLET What man dost thou dig it for? GRAVEDIGGER For no man, sir. HAMLET What woman then? GRAVEDIGGER For none, neither. HAMLET Who is to be buried in 't? GRAVEDIGGER One that was a woman, sir, but, rest her soul, she's dead. HAMLET How absolute the knave is! We must speak by the card, or equivocation will undo us. By the Lord, Horatio, this three years I have took note of it: the age is grown so picked that the toe of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he galls his kibe.--How long hast thou been grave-maker? GRAVEDIGGER Of all the days i' th' year, I came to 't that day that our last King Hamlet overcame Fortinbras. HAMLET How long is that since? GRAVEDIGGER Cannot you tell that? Every fool can tell that. It was that very day that young Hamlet was born--he that is mad, and sent into England. HAMLET Ay, marry, why was he sent into England? GRAVEDIGGER Why, because he was mad. He shall recover his wits there. Or if he do not, 'tis no great matter there. HAMLET Why? GRAVEDIGGER 'Twill not be seen in him there. There the men are as mad as he. HAMLET How came he mad? GRAVEDIGGER Very strangely, they say. HAMLET How "strangely"? GRAVEDIGGER Faith, e'en with losing his wits. HAMLET Upon what ground? GRAVEDIGGER Why, here in Denmark. I have been sexton here, man and boy, thirty years. HAMLET How long will a man lie i' th' earth ere he rot? GRAVEDIGGER Faith, if he be not rotten before he die (as we have many pocky corses nowadays that will scarce hold the laying in), he will last you some eight year or nine year. A tanner will last you nine year. HAMLET Why he more than another? GRAVEDIGGER Why, sir, his hide is so tanned with his trade that he will keep out water a great while; and your water is a sore decayer of your whoreson dead body. Here's a skull now hath lien you i' th' earth three-and-twenty years. HAMLET Whose was it? GRAVEDIGGER A whoreson mad fellow's it was. Whose do you think it was? HAMLET Nay, I know not. GRAVEDIGGER A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! He poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This same skull, sir, was, sir, Yorick's skull, the King's jester. HAMLET This? GRAVEDIGGER E'en that. HAMLET, [taking the skull] Let me see. Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio--a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He hath bore me on his back a thousand times, and now how abhorred in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now to mock your own grinning? Quite chapfallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favor she must come. Make her laugh at that.--Prithee, Horatio, tell me one thing. HORATIO What's that, my lord? HAMLET Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i' th' earth? HORATIO E'en so. HAMLET And smelt so? Pah! [He puts the skull down.] HORATIO E'en so, my lord. HAMLET To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander till he find it stopping a bunghole? HORATIO 'Twere to consider too curiously to consider so. HAMLET No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither, with modesty enough and likelihood to lead it, as thus: Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth to dust; the dust is earth; of earth we make loam; and why of that loam whereto he was converted might they not stop a beer barrel? Imperious Caesar, dead and turned to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind away. O, that that earth which kept the world in awe Should patch a wall t' expel the winter's flaw! [Enter King, Queen, Laertes, Lords attendant, and the corpse of Ophelia, with a Doctor of Divinity.] But soft, but soft awhile! Here comes the King, The Queen, the courtiers. Who is this they follow? And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken The corse they follow did with desp'rate hand Fordo its own life. 'Twas of some estate. Couch we awhile and mark. [They step aside.] LAERTES What ceremony else? HAMLET That is Laertes, a very noble youth. Mark. LAERTES What ceremony else? DOCTOR Her obsequies have been as far enlarged As we have warranty. Her death was doubtful, And, but that great command o'ersways the order, She should in ground unsanctified been lodged Till the last trumpet. For charitable prayers Shards, flints, and pebbles should be thrown on her. Yet here she is allowed her virgin crants, Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home Of bell and burial. LAERTES Must there no more be done? DOCTOR No more be done. We should profane the service of the dead To sing a requiem and such rest to her As to peace-parted souls. LAERTES Lay her i' th' earth, And from her fair and unpolluted flesh May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest, A minist'ring angel shall my sister be When thou liest howling. HAMLET, [to Horatio] What, the fair Ophelia? QUEEN Sweets to the sweet, farewell! [She scatters flowers.] I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife; I thought thy bride-bed to have decked, sweet maid, And not have strewed thy grave. LAERTES O, treble woe Fall ten times treble on that cursed head Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense Deprived thee of!--Hold off the earth awhile, Till I have caught her once more in mine arms. [Leaps in the grave.] Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead, Till of this flat a mountain you have made T' o'ertop old Pelion or the skyish head Of blue Olympus. HAMLET, [advancing] What is he whose grief Bears such an emphasis, whose phrase of sorrow Conjures the wand'ring stars and makes them stand Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I, Hamlet the Dane. LAERTES, [coming out of the grave] The devil take thy soul! HAMLET Thou pray'st not well. [They grapple.] I prithee take thy fingers from my throat, For though I am not splenitive and rash, Yet have I in me something dangerous, Which let thy wisdom fear. Hold off thy hand. KING Pluck them asunder. QUEEN Hamlet! Hamlet! ALL Gentlemen! HORATIO Good my lord, be quiet. [Hamlet and Laertes are separated.] HAMLET Why, I will fight with him upon this theme Until my eyelids will no longer wag! QUEEN O my son, what theme? HAMLET I loved Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers Could not with all their quantity of love Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her? KING O, he is mad, Laertes! QUEEN For love of God, forbear him. HAMLET 'Swounds, show me what thou 't do. Woo't weep, woo't fight, woo't fast, woo't tear thyself, Woo't drink up eisel, eat a crocodile? I'll do 't. Dost thou come here to whine? To outface me with leaping in her grave? Be buried quick with her, and so will I. And if thou prate of mountains, let them throw Millions of acres on us, till our ground, Singeing his pate against the burning zone, Make Ossa like a wart. Nay, an thou 'lt mouth, I'll rant as well as thou. QUEEN This is mere madness; And thus awhile the fit will work on him. Anon, as patient as the female dove When that her golden couplets are disclosed, His silence will sit drooping. HAMLET Hear you, sir, What is the reason that you use me thus? I loved you ever. But it is no matter. Let Hercules himself do what he may, The cat will mew, and dog will have his day. [Hamlet exits.] KING I pray thee, good Horatio, wait upon him. [Horatio exits.] [To Laertes.] Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech. We'll put the matter to the present push.-- Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son.-- This grave shall have a living monument. An hour of quiet thereby shall we see. Till then in patience our proceeding be. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Hamlet and Horatio.] HAMLET So much for this, sir. Now shall you see the other. You do remember all the circumstance? HORATIO Remember it, my lord! HAMLET Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting That would not let me sleep. Methought I lay Worse than the mutines in the bilboes. Rashly-- And praised be rashness for it; let us know, Our indiscretion sometime serves us well When our deep plots do pall; and that should learn us There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will-- HORATIO That is most certain. HAMLET Up from my cabin, My sea-gown scarfed about me, in the dark Groped I to find out them; had my desire, Fingered their packet, and in fine withdrew To mine own room again, making so bold (My fears forgetting manners) to unfold Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio, A royal knavery--an exact command, Larded with many several sorts of reasons Importing Denmark's health and England's too, With--ho!--such bugs and goblins in my life, That on the supervise, no leisure bated, No, not to stay the grinding of the ax, My head should be struck off. HORATIO Is 't possible? HAMLET Here's the commission. Read it at more leisure. [Handing him a paper.] But wilt thou hear now how I did proceed? HORATIO I beseech you. HAMLET Being thus benetted round with villainies, Or I could make a prologue to my brains, They had begun the play. I sat me down, Devised a new commission, wrote it fair-- I once did hold it, as our statists do, A baseness to write fair, and labored much How to forget that learning; but, sir, now It did me yeoman's service. Wilt thou know Th' effect of what I wrote? HORATIO Ay, good my lord. HAMLET An earnest conjuration from the King, As England was his faithful tributary, As love between them like the palm might flourish, As peace should still her wheaten garland wear And stand a comma 'tween their amities, And many suchlike ases of great charge, That, on the view and knowing of these contents, Without debatement further, more or less, He should those bearers put to sudden death, Not shriving time allowed. HORATIO How was this sealed? HAMLET Why, even in that was heaven ordinant. I had my father's signet in my purse, Which was the model of that Danish seal; Folded the writ up in the form of th' other, Subscribed it, gave 't th' impression, placed it safely, The changeling never known. Now, the next day Was our sea-fight; and what to this was sequent Thou knowest already. HORATIO So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to 't. HAMLET Why, man, they did make love to this employment. They are not near my conscience. Their defeat Does by their own insinuation grow. 'Tis dangerous when the baser nature comes Between the pass and fell incensed points Of mighty opposites. HORATIO Why, what a king is this! HAMLET Does it not, think thee, stand me now upon-- He that hath killed my king and whored my mother, Popped in between th' election and my hopes, Thrown out his angle for my proper life, And with such cozenage--is 't not perfect conscience To quit him with this arm? And is 't not to be damned To let this canker of our nature come In further evil? HORATIO It must be shortly known to him from England What is the issue of the business there. HAMLET It will be short. The interim's mine, And a man's life's no more than to say "one." But I am very sorry, good Horatio, That to Laertes I forgot myself, For by the image of my cause I see The portraiture of his. I'll court his favors. But, sure, the bravery of his grief did put me Into a tow'ring passion. HORATIO Peace, who comes here? [Enter Osric, a courtier.] OSRIC Your Lordship is right welcome back to Denmark. HAMLET I humbly thank you, sir. [Aside to Horatio.] Dost know this waterfly? HORATIO, [aside to Hamlet] No, my good lord. HAMLET, [aside to Horatio] Thy state is the more gracious, for 'tis a vice to know him. He hath much land, and fertile. Let a beast be lord of beasts and his crib shall stand at the king's mess. 'Tis a chough, but, as I say, spacious in the possession of dirt. OSRIC Sweet lord, if your Lordship were at leisure, I should impart a thing to you from his Majesty. HAMLET I will receive it, sir, with all diligence of spirit. Put your bonnet to his right use: 'tis for the head. OSRIC I thank your Lordship; it is very hot. HAMLET No, believe me, 'tis very cold; the wind is northerly. OSRIC It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed. HAMLET But yet methinks it is very sultry and hot for my complexion. OSRIC Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry, as 'twere--I cannot tell how. My lord, his Majesty bade me signify to you that he has laid a great wager on your head. Sir, this is the matter-- HAMLET I beseech you, remember. [He motions to Osric to put on his hat.] OSRIC Nay, good my lord, for my ease, in good faith. Sir, here is newly come to court Laertes--believe me, an absolute gentleman, full of most excellent differences, of very soft society and great showing. Indeed, to speak feelingly of him, he is the card or calendar of gentry, for you shall find in him the continent of what part a gentleman would see. HAMLET Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in you, though I know to divide him inventorially would dozy th' arithmetic of memory, and yet but yaw neither, in respect of his quick sail. But, in the verity of extolment, I take him to be a soul of great article, and his infusion of such dearth and rareness as, to make true diction of him, his semblable is his mirror, and who else would trace him, his umbrage, nothing more. OSRIC Your Lordship speaks most infallibly of him. HAMLET The concernancy, sir? Why do we wrap the gentleman in our more rawer breath? OSRIC Sir? HORATIO Is 't not possible to understand in another tongue? You will to 't, sir, really. HAMLET, [to Osric] What imports the nomination of this gentleman? OSRIC Of Laertes? HORATIO His purse is empty already; all 's golden words are spent. HAMLET Of him, sir. OSRIC I know you are not ignorant-- HAMLET I would you did, sir. Yet, in faith, if you did, it would not much approve me. Well, sir? OSRIC You are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is-- HAMLET I dare not confess that, lest I should compare with him in excellence. But to know a man well were to know himself. OSRIC I mean, sir, for his weapon. But in the imputation laid on him by them, in his meed he's unfellowed. HAMLET What's his weapon? OSRIC Rapier and dagger. HAMLET That's two of his weapons. But, well-- OSRIC The King, sir, hath wagered with him six Barbary horses, against the which he has impawned, as I take it, six French rapiers and poniards, with their assigns, as girdle, hangers, and so. Three of the carriages, in faith, are very dear to fancy, very responsive to the hilts, most delicate carriages, and of very liberal conceit. HAMLET What call you the "carriages"? HORATIO I knew you must be edified by the margent ere you had done. OSRIC The carriages, sir, are the hangers. HAMLET The phrase would be more germane to the matter if we could carry a cannon by our sides. I would it might be "hangers" till then. But on. Six Barbary horses against six French swords, their assigns, and three liberal-conceited carriages-- that's the French bet against the Danish. Why is this all "impawned," as you call it? OSRIC The King, sir, hath laid, sir, that in a dozen passes between yourself and him, he shall not exceed you three hits. He hath laid on twelve for nine, and it would come to immediate trial if your Lordship would vouchsafe the answer. HAMLET How if I answer no? OSRIC I mean, my lord, the opposition of your person in trial. HAMLET Sir, I will walk here in the hall. If it please his Majesty, it is the breathing time of day with me. Let the foils be brought, the gentleman willing, and the King hold his purpose, I will win for him, an I can. If not, I will gain nothing but my shame and the odd hits. OSRIC Shall I deliver you e'en so? HAMLET To this effect, sir, after what flourish your nature will. OSRIC I commend my duty to your Lordship. HAMLET Yours. [Osric exits.] He does well to commend it himself. There are no tongues else for 's turn. HORATIO This lapwing runs away with the shell on his head. HAMLET He did comply, sir, with his dug before he sucked it. Thus has he (and many more of the same breed that I know the drossy age dotes on) only got the tune of the time, and, out of an habit of encounter, a kind of yeasty collection, which carries them through and through the most fanned and winnowed opinions; and do but blow them to their trial, the bubbles are out. [Enter a Lord.] LORD My lord, his Majesty commended him to you by young Osric, who brings back to him that you attend him in the hall. He sends to know if your pleasure hold to play with Laertes, or that you will take longer time. HAMLET I am constant to my purposes. They follow the King's pleasure. If his fitness speaks, mine is ready now or whensoever, provided I be so able as now. LORD The King and Queen and all are coming down. HAMLET In happy time. LORD The Queen desires you to use some gentle entertainment to Laertes before you fall to play. HAMLET She well instructs me. [Lord exits.] HORATIO You will lose, my lord. HAMLET I do not think so. Since he went into France, I have been in continual practice. I shall win at the odds; but thou wouldst not think how ill all's here about my heart. But it is no matter. HORATIO Nay, good my lord-- HAMLET It is but foolery, but it is such a kind of gaingiving as would perhaps trouble a woman. HORATIO If your mind dislike anything, obey it. I will forestall their repair hither and say you are not fit. HAMLET Not a whit. We defy augury. There is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come. The readiness is all. Since no man of aught he leaves knows, what is 't to leave betimes? Let be. [A table prepared. Enter Trumpets, Drums, and Officers with cushions, King, Queen, Osric, and all the state, foils, daggers, flagons of wine, and Laertes.] KING Come, Hamlet, come and take this hand from me. [He puts Laertes' hand into Hamlet's.] HAMLET, [to Laertes] Give me your pardon, sir. I have done you wrong; But pardon 't as you are a gentleman. This presence knows, And you must needs have heard, how I am punished With a sore distraction. What I have done That might your nature, honor, and exception Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness. Was 't Hamlet wronged Laertes? Never Hamlet. If Hamlet from himself be ta'en away, And when he's not himself does wrong Laertes, Then Hamlet does it not; Hamlet denies it. Who does it, then? His madness. If 't be so, Hamlet is of the faction that is wronged; His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy. Sir, in this audience Let my disclaiming from a purposed evil Free me so far in your most generous thoughts That I have shot my arrow o'er the house And hurt my brother. LAERTES I am satisfied in nature, Whose motive in this case should stir me most To my revenge; but in my terms of honor I stand aloof and will no reconcilement Till by some elder masters of known honor I have a voice and precedent of peace To keep my name ungored. But till that time I do receive your offered love like love And will not wrong it. HAMLET I embrace it freely And will this brothers' wager frankly play.-- Give us the foils. Come on. LAERTES Come, one for me. HAMLET I'll be your foil, Laertes; in mine ignorance Your skill shall, like a star i' th' darkest night, Stick fiery off indeed. LAERTES You mock me, sir. HAMLET No, by this hand. KING Give them the foils, young Osric. Cousin Hamlet, You know the wager? HAMLET Very well, my lord. Your Grace has laid the odds o' th' weaker side. KING I do not fear it; I have seen you both. But, since he is better, we have therefore odds. LAERTES This is too heavy. Let me see another. HAMLET This likes me well. These foils have all a length? OSRIC Ay, my good lord. [Prepare to play.] KING Set me the stoups of wine upon that table.-- If Hamlet give the first or second hit Or quit in answer of the third exchange, Let all the battlements their ordnance fire. The King shall drink to Hamlet's better breath, And in the cup an union shall he throw, Richer than that which four successive kings In Denmark's crown have worn. Give me the cups, And let the kettle to the trumpet speak, The trumpet to the cannoneer without, The cannons to the heavens, the heaven to earth, "Now the King drinks to Hamlet." Come, begin. And you, the judges, bear a wary eye. [Trumpets the while.] HAMLET Come on, sir. LAERTES Come, my lord. [They play.] HAMLET One. LAERTES No. HAMLET Judgment! OSRIC A hit, a very palpable hit. LAERTES Well, again. KING Stay, give me drink.--Hamlet, this pearl is thine. Here's to thy health. [He drinks and then drops the pearl in the cup.] [Drum, trumpets, and shot.] Give him the cup. HAMLET I'll play this bout first. Set it by awhile. Come. [They play.] Another hit. What say you? LAERTES A touch, a touch. I do confess 't. KING Our son shall win. QUEEN He's fat and scant of breath.-- Here, Hamlet, take my napkin; rub thy brows. The Queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet. [She lifts the cup.] HAMLET Good madam. KING Gertrude, do not drink. QUEEN I will, my lord; I pray you pardon me. [She drinks.] KING, [aside] It is the poisoned cup. It is too late. HAMLET I dare not drink yet, madam--by and by. QUEEN Come, let me wipe thy face. LAERTES, [to Claudius] My lord, I'll hit him now. KING I do not think 't. LAERTES, [aside] And yet it is almost against my conscience. HAMLET Come, for the third, Laertes. You do but dally. I pray you pass with your best violence. I am afeard you make a wanton of me. LAERTES Say you so? Come on. [Play.] OSRIC Nothing neither way. LAERTES Have at you now! [Laertes wounds Hamlet. Then in scuffling they change rapiers, and Hamlet wounds Laertes.] KING Part them. They are incensed. HAMLET Nay, come again. [The Queen falls.] OSRIC Look to the Queen there, ho! HORATIO They bleed on both sides.--How is it, my lord? OSRIC How is 't, Laertes? LAERTES Why as a woodcock to mine own springe, Osric. [He falls.] I am justly killed with mine own treachery. HAMLET How does the Queen? KING She swoons to see them bleed. QUEEN No, no, the drink, the drink! O, my dear Hamlet! The drink, the drink! I am poisoned. [She dies.] HAMLET O villainy! Ho! Let the door be locked. [Osric exits.] Treachery! Seek it out. LAERTES It is here, Hamlet. Hamlet, thou art slain. No med'cine in the world can do thee good. In thee there is not half an hour's life. The treacherous instrument is in thy hand, Unbated and envenomed. The foul practice Hath turned itself on me. Lo, here I lie, Never to rise again. Thy mother's poisoned. I can no more. The King, the King's to blame. HAMLET The point envenomed too! Then, venom, to thy work. [Hurts the King.] ALL Treason, treason! KING O, yet defend me, friends! I am but hurt. HAMLET Here, thou incestuous, murd'rous, damned Dane, Drink off this potion. Is thy union here? [Forcing him to drink the poison.] Follow my mother. [King dies.] LAERTES He is justly served. It is a poison tempered by himself. Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet. Mine and my father's death come not upon thee, Nor thine on me. [Dies.] HAMLET Heaven make thee free of it. I follow thee.-- I am dead, Horatio.--Wretched queen, adieu.-- You that look pale and tremble at this chance, That are but mutes or audience to this act, Had I but time (as this fell sergeant, Death, Is strict in his arrest), O, I could tell you-- But let it be.--Horatio, I am dead. Thou livest; report me and my cause aright To the unsatisfied. HORATIO Never believe it. I am more an antique Roman than a Dane. Here's yet some liquor left. [He picks up the cup.] HAMLET As thou 'rt a man, Give me the cup. Let go! By heaven, I'll ha 't. O God, Horatio, what a wounded name, Things standing thus unknown, shall I leave behind me! If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, Absent thee from felicity awhile And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain To tell my story. [A march afar off and shot within.] What warlike noise is this? [Enter Osric.] OSRIC Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from Poland, To th' ambassadors of England gives This warlike volley. HAMLET O, I die, Horatio! The potent poison quite o'ercrows my spirit. I cannot live to hear the news from England. But I do prophesy th' election lights On Fortinbras; he has my dying voice. So tell him, with th' occurrents, more and less, Which have solicited--the rest is silence. O, O, O, O! [Dies.] HORATIO Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince, And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest. [March within.] Why does the drum come hither? [Enter Fortinbras with the English Ambassadors with Drum, Colors, and Attendants.] FORTINBRAS Where is this sight? HORATIO What is it you would see? If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search. FORTINBRAS This quarry cries on havoc. O proud Death, What feast is toward in thine eternal cell That thou so many princes at a shot So bloodily hast struck? AMBASSADOR The sight is dismal, And our affairs from England come too late. The ears are senseless that should give us hearing To tell him his commandment is fulfilled, That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead. Where should we have our thanks? HORATIO Not from his mouth, Had it th' ability of life to thank you. He never gave commandment for their death. But since, so jump upon this bloody question, You from the Polack wars, and you from England, Are here arrived, give order that these bodies High on a stage be placed to the view, And let me speak to th' yet unknowing world How these things came about. So shall you hear Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts, Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters, Of deaths put on by cunning and forced cause, And, in this upshot, purposes mistook Fall'n on th' inventors' heads. All this can I Truly deliver. FORTINBRAS Let us haste to hear it And call the noblest to the audience. For me, with sorrow I embrace my fortune. I have some rights of memory in this kingdom, Which now to claim my vantage doth invite me. HORATIO Of that I shall have also cause to speak, And from his mouth whose voice will draw on more. But let this same be presently performed Even while men's minds are wild, lest more mischance On plots and errors happen. FORTINBRAS Let four captains Bear Hamlet like a soldier to the stage, For he was likely, had he been put on, To have proved most royal; and for his passage, The soldier's music and the rite of war Speak loudly for him. Take up the bodies. Such a sight as this Becomes the field but here shows much amiss. Go, bid the soldiers shoot. [They exit, marching, after the which, a peal of ordnance are shot off.]

Henry IV, Part I by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== KING HENRY IV, formerly Henry Bolingbroke PRINCE HAL, Prince of Wales and heir to the throne (also called Harry and Harry Monmouth) LORD JOHN OF LANCASTER, younger son of King Henry EARL OF WESTMORELAND SIR WALTER BLUNT HOTSPUR (Sir Henry, or Harry, Percy) LADY PERCY (also called Kate) EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND, Henry Percy, Hotspur's father EARL OF WORCESTER, Thomas Percy, Hotspur's uncle EDMUND MORTIMER, earl of March LADY MORTIMER (also called "the Welsh lady") OWEN GLENDOWER, a Welsh lord, father of Lady Mortimer DOUGLAS (Archibald, earl of Douglas) ARCHBISHOP (Richard Scroop, archbishop of York) SIR MICHAEL, a priest or knight associated with the archbishop SIR RICHARD VERNON, an English knight SIR JOHN FALSTAFF POINS (also called Edward, Yedward, and Ned) BARDOLPH PETO GADSHILL, setter for the robbers HOSTESS of the tavern (also called Mistress Quickly) VINTNER, or keeper of the tavern FRANCIS, an apprentice tapster Carriers, Ostlers, Chamberlain, Travelers, Sheriff, Servants, Lords, Attendants, Messengers, Soldiers ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter the King, Lord John of Lancaster, and the Earl of Westmoreland, with others.] KING So shaken as we are, so wan with care, Find we a time for frighted peace to pant And breathe short-winded accents of new broils To be commenced in strands afar remote. No more the thirsty entrance of this soil Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood. No more shall trenching war channel her fields, Nor bruise her flow'rets with the armed hoofs Of hostile paces. Those opposed eyes, Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven, All of one nature, of one substance bred, Did lately meet in the intestine shock And furious close of civil butchery, Shall now, in mutual well-beseeming ranks, March all one way and be no more opposed Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies. The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife, No more shall cut his master. Therefore, friends, As far as to the sepulcher of Christ-- Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross We are impressed and engaged to fight-- Forthwith a power of English shall we levy, Whose arms were molded in their mothers' womb To chase these pagans in those holy fields Over whose acres walked those blessed feet Which fourteen hundred years ago were nailed For our advantage on the bitter cross. But this our purpose now is twelve month old, And bootless 'tis to tell you we will go. Therefor we meet not now. Then let me hear Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland, What yesternight our council did decree In forwarding this dear expedience. WESTMORELAND My liege, this haste was hot in question, And many limits of the charge set down But yesternight, when all athwart there came A post from Wales loaden with heavy news, Whose worst was that the noble Mortimer, Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight Against the irregular and wild Glendower, Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken, A thousand of his people butchered, Upon whose dead corpse there was such misuse, Such beastly shameless transformation By those Welshwomen done, as may not be Without much shame retold or spoken of. KING It seems then that the tidings of this broil Brake off our business for the Holy Land. WESTMORELAND This matched with other did, my gracious lord. For more uneven and unwelcome news Came from the north, and thus it did import: On Holy-rood Day the gallant Hotspur there, Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald, That ever valiant and approved Scot, At Holmedon met, where they did spend A sad and bloody hour-- As by discharge of their artillery And shape of likelihood the news was told, For he that brought them, in the very heat And pride of their contention did take horse, Uncertain of the issue any way. KING Here is a dear, a true-industrious friend, Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse, Stained with the variation of each soil Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours, And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news. The Earl of Douglas is discomfited; Ten thousand bold Scots, two-and-twenty knights, Balked in their own blood, did Sir Walter see On Holmedon's plains. Of prisoners Hotspur took Mordake, Earl of Fife and eldest son To beaten Douglas, and the Earl of Atholl, Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith. And is not this an honorable spoil? A gallant prize? Ha, cousin, is it not? WESTMORELAND In faith, it is a conquest for a prince to boast of. KING Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, and mak'st me sin In envy that my Lord Northumberland Should be the father to so blest a son, A son who is the theme of Honor's tongue, Amongst a grove the very straightest plant, Who is sweet Fortune's minion and her pride; Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him, See riot and dishonor stain the brow Of my young Harry. O, that it could be proved That some night-tripping fairy had exchanged In cradle-clothes our children where they lay, And called mine "Percy," his "Plantagenet"! Then would I have his Harry, and he mine. But let him from my thoughts. What think you, coz, Of this young Percy's pride? The prisoners Which he in this adventure hath surprised To his own use he keeps, and sends me word I shall have none but Mordake, Earl of Fife. WESTMORELAND This is his uncle's teaching. This is Worcester, Malevolent to you in all aspects, Which makes him prune himself, and bristle up The crest of youth against your dignity. KING But I have sent for him to answer this. And for this cause awhile we must neglect Our holy purpose to Jerusalem. Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we Will hold at Windsor. So inform the lords. But come yourself with speed to us again, For more is to be said and to be done Than out of anger can be uttered. WESTMORELAND I will, my liege. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Prince of Wales, and Sir John Falstaff.] FALSTAFF Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad? PRINCE Thou art so fat-witted with drinking of old sack, and unbuttoning thee after supper, and sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly which thou wouldst truly know. What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the day? Unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-colored taffeta, I see no reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time of the day. FALSTAFF Indeed, you come near me now, Hal, for we that take purses go by the moon and the seven stars, and not by Phoebus, he, that wand'ring knight so fair. And I prithee, sweet wag, when thou art king, as God save thy Grace--Majesty, I should say, for grace thou wilt have none-- PRINCE What, none? FALSTAFF No, by my troth, not so much as will serve to be prologue to an egg and butter. PRINCE Well, how then? Come, roundly, roundly. FALSTAFF Marry then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us that are squires of the night's body be called thieves of the day's beauty. Let us be Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon, and let men say we be men of good government, being governed, as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we steal. PRINCE Thou sayest well, and it holds well too, for the fortune of us that are the moon's men doth ebb and flow like the sea, being governed, as the sea is, by the moon. As for proof now: a purse of gold most resolutely snatched on Monday night and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning, got with swearing "Lay by" and spent with crying "Bring in"; now in as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder, and by and by in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows. FALSTAFF By the Lord, thou sayst true, lad. And is not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench? PRINCE As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance? FALSTAFF How now, how now, mad wag? What, in thy quips and thy quiddities? What a plague have I to do with a buff jerkin? PRINCE Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern? FALSTAFF Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning many a time and oft. PRINCE Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part? FALSTAFF No, I'll give thee thy due. Thou hast paid all there. PRINCE Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch, and where it would not, I have used my credit. FALSTAFF Yea, and so used it that were it not here apparent that thou art heir apparent--But I prithee, sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing in England when thou art king? And resolution thus fubbed as it is with the rusty curb of old father Antic the law? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief. PRINCE No, thou shalt. FALSTAFF Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I'll be a brave judge. PRINCE Thou judgest false already. I mean thou shalt have the hanging of the thieves, and so become a rare hangman. FALSTAFF Well, Hal, well, and in some sort it jumps with my humor as well as waiting in the court, I can tell you. PRINCE For obtaining of suits? FALSTAFF Yea, for obtaining of suits, whereof the hangman hath no lean wardrobe. 'Sblood, I am as melancholy as a gib cat or a lugged bear. PRINCE Or an old lion, or a lover's lute. FALSTAFF Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe. PRINCE What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy of Moorditch? FALSTAFF Thou hast the most unsavory similes, and art indeed the most comparative, rascaliest, sweet young prince. But, Hal, I prithee trouble me no more with vanity. I would to God thou and I knew where a commodity of good names were to be bought. An old lord of the council rated me the other day in the street about you, sir, but I marked him not, and yet he talked very wisely, but I regarded him not, and yet he talked wisely, and in the street, too. PRINCE Thou didst well, for wisdom cries out in the streets and no man regards it. FALSTAFF O, thou hast damnable iteration, and art indeed able to corrupt a saint. Thou hast done much harm upon me, Hal, God forgive thee for it. Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing, and now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than one of the wicked. I must give over this life, and I will give it over. By the Lord, an I do not, I am a villain. I'll be damned for never a king's son in Christendom. PRINCE Where shall we take a purse tomorrow, Jack? FALSTAFF Zounds, where thou wilt, lad. I'll make one. An I do not, call me villain and baffle me. PRINCE I see a good amendment of life in thee, from praying to purse-taking. FALSTAFF Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal. 'Tis no sin for a man to labor in his vocation. [Enter Poins.] Poins!--Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a match. O, if men were to be saved by merit, what hole in hell were hot enough for him? This is the most omnipotent villain that ever cried "Stand!" to a true man. PRINCE Good morrow, Ned. POINS Good morrow, sweet Hal.--What says Monsieur Remorse? What says Sir John Sack-and-Sugar? Jack, how agrees the devil and thee about thy soul that thou soldest him on Good Friday last for a cup of Madeira and a cold capon's leg? PRINCE Sir John stands to his word. The devil shall have his bargain, for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs. He will give the devil his due. POINS, [to Falstaff] Then art thou damned for keeping thy word with the devil. PRINCE Else he had been damned for cozening the devil. POINS But, my lads, my lads, tomorrow morning, by four o'clock early at Gad's Hill, there are pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich offerings, and traders riding to London with fat purses. I have vizards for you all. You have horses for yourselves. Gadshill lies tonight in Rochester. I have bespoke supper tomorrow night in Eastcheap. We may do it as secure as sleep. If you will go, I will stuff your purses full of crowns. If you will not, tarry at home and be hanged. FALSTAFF Hear you, Yedward, if I tarry at home and go not, I'll hang you for going. POINS You will, chops? FALSTAFF Hal, wilt thou make one? PRINCE Who, I rob? I a thief? Not I, by my faith. FALSTAFF There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in thee, nor thou cam'st not of the blood royal, if thou darest not stand for ten shillings. PRINCE Well then, once in my days I'll be a madcap. FALSTAFF Why, that's well said. PRINCE Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home. FALSTAFF By the Lord, I'll be a traitor then when thou art king. PRINCE I care not. POINS Sir John, I prithee leave the Prince and me alone. I will lay him down such reasons for this adventure that he shall go. FALSTAFF Well, God give thee the spirit of persuasion, and him the ears of profiting, that what thou speakest may move, and what he hears may be believed, that the true prince may, for recreation sake, prove a false thief, for the poor abuses of the time want countenance. Farewell. You shall find me in Eastcheap. PRINCE Farewell, thou latter spring. Farewell, Allhallown summer. [Falstaff exits.] POINS Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us tomorrow. I have a jest to execute that I cannot manage alone. Falstaff, Peto, Bardolph, and Gadshill shall rob those men that we have already waylaid. Yourself and I will not be there. And when they have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut this head off from my shoulders. PRINCE How shall we part with them in setting forth? POINS Why, we will set forth before or after them, and appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at our pleasure to fail; and then will they adventure upon the exploit themselves, which they shall have no sooner achieved but we'll set upon them. PRINCE Yea, but 'tis like that they will know us by our horses, by our habits, and by every other appointment to be ourselves. POINS Tut, our horses they shall not see; I'll tie them in the wood. Our vizards we will change after we leave them. And, sirrah, I have cases of buckram for the nonce, to immask our noted outward garments. PRINCE Yea, but I doubt they will be too hard for us. POINS Well, for two of them, I know them to be as true-bred cowards as ever turned back; and for the third, if he fight longer than he sees reason, I'll forswear arms. The virtue of this jest will be the incomprehensible lies that this same fat rogue will tell us when we meet at supper: how thirty at least he fought with, what wards, what blows, what extremities he endured; and in the reproof of this lives the jest. PRINCE Well, I'll go with thee. Provide us all things necessary and meet me tomorrow night in Eastcheap. There I'll sup. Farewell. POINS Farewell, my lord. [Poins exits.] PRINCE I know you all, and will awhile uphold The unyoked humor of your idleness. Yet herein will I imitate the sun, Who doth permit the base contagious clouds To smother up his beauty from the world, That, when he please again to be himself, Being wanted, he may be more wondered at By breaking through the foul and ugly mists Of vapors that did seem to strangle him. If all the year were playing holidays, To sport would be as tedious as to work, But when they seldom come, they wished-for come, And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. So when this loose behavior I throw off And pay the debt I never promised, By how much better than my word I am, By so much shall I falsify men's hopes; And, like bright metal on a sullen ground, My reformation, glitt'ring o'er my fault, Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes Than that which hath no foil to set it off. I'll so offend to make offense a skill, Redeeming time when men think least I will. [He exits.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter the King, Northumberland, Worcester, Hotspur, and Sir Walter Blunt, with others.] KING, [to Northumberland, Worcester, and Hotspur] My blood hath been too cold and temperate, Unapt to stir at these indignities, And you have found me, for accordingly You tread upon my patience. But be sure I will from henceforth rather be myself, Mighty and to be feared, than my condition, Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young down, And therefore lost that title of respect Which the proud soul ne'er pays but to the proud. WORCESTER Our house, my sovereign liege, little deserves The scourge of greatness to be used on it, And that same greatness too which our own hands Have holp to make so portly. NORTHUMBERLAND My lord-- KING Worcester, get thee gone, for I do see Danger and disobedience in thine eye. O sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory, And majesty might never yet endure The moody frontier of a servant brow. You have good leave to leave us. When we need Your use and counsel, we shall send for you. [Worcester exits.] You were about to speak. NORTHUMBERLAND Yea, my good lord. Those prisoners in your Highness' name demanded, Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took, Were, as he says, not with such strength denied As is delivered to your Majesty. Either envy, therefore, or misprision Is guilty of this fault, and not my son. HOTSPUR My liege, I did deny no prisoners. But I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat and trimly dressed, Fresh as a bridegroom, and his chin new reaped Showed like a stubble land at harvest home. He was perfumed like a milliner, And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held A pouncet box, which ever and anon He gave his nose and took 't away again, Who therewith angry, when it next came there, Took it in snuff; and still he smiled and talked. And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, He called them untaught knaves, unmannerly, To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse Betwixt the wind and his nobility. With many holiday and lady terms He questioned me, amongst the rest demanded My prisoners in your Majesty's behalf. I then, all smarting with my wounds being cold, To be so pestered with a popinjay, Out of my grief and my impatience Answered neglectingly I know not what-- He should, or he should not; for he made me mad To see him shine so brisk and smell so sweet And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman Of guns, and drums, and wounds--God save the mark!-- And telling me the sovereignest thing on Earth Was parmacety for an inward bruise, And that it was great pity, so it was, This villainous saltpeter should be digged Out of the bowels of the harmless Earth, Which many a good tall fellow had destroyed So cowardly, and but for these vile guns He would himself have been a soldier. This bald unjointed chat of his, my lord, I answered indirectly, as I said, And I beseech you, let not his report Come current for an accusation Betwixt my love and your high Majesty. BLUNT The circumstance considered, good my lord, Whate'er Lord Harry Percy then had said To such a person and in such a place, At such a time, with all the rest retold, May reasonably die and never rise To do him wrong or any way impeach What then he said, so he unsay it now. KING Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners, But with proviso and exception That we at our own charge shall ransom straight His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer, Who, on my soul, hath willfully betrayed The lives of those that he did lead to fight Against that great magician, damned Glendower, Whose daughter, as we hear, that Earl of March Hath lately married. Shall our coffers then Be emptied to redeem a traitor home? Shall we buy treason and indent with fears When they have lost and forfeited themselves? No, on the barren mountains let him starve, For I shall never hold that man my friend Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost To ransom home revolted Mortimer. HOTSPUR Revolted Mortimer! He never did fall off, my sovereign liege, But by the chance of war. To prove that true Needs no more but one tongue for all those wounds, Those mouthed wounds, which valiantly he took When on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank In single opposition hand to hand He did confound the best part of an hour In changing hardiment with great Glendower. Three times they breathed, and three times did they drink, Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood, Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks, Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank, Blood-stained with these valiant combatants. Never did bare and rotten policy Color her working with such deadly wounds, Nor never could the noble Mortimer Receive so many, and all willingly. Then let not him be slandered with revolt. KING Thou dost belie him, Percy; thou dost belie him. He never did encounter with Glendower. I tell thee, he durst as well have met the devil alone As Owen Glendower for an enemy. Art thou not ashamed? But, sirrah, henceforth Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer. Send me your prisoners with the speediest means, Or you shall hear in such a kind from me As will displease you.--My lord Northumberland, We license your departure with your son.-- Send us your prisoners, or you will hear of it. [King exits with Blunt and others.] HOTSPUR An if the devil come and roar for them, I will not send them. I will after straight And tell him so, for I will ease my heart, Albeit I make a hazard of my head. NORTHUMBERLAND What, drunk with choler? Stay and pause awhile. Here comes your uncle. [Enter Worcester.] HOTSPUR Speak of Mortimer? Zounds, I will speak of him, and let my soul Want mercy if I do not join with him. Yea, on his part I'll empty all these veins And shed my dear blood drop by drop in the dust, But I will lift the downtrod Mortimer As high in the air as this unthankful king, As this ingrate and cankered Bolingbroke. NORTHUMBERLAND Brother, the King hath made your nephew mad. WORCESTER Who struck this heat up after I was gone? HOTSPUR He will forsooth have all my prisoners, And when I urged the ransom once again Of my wife's brother, then his cheek looked pale, And on my face he turned an eye of death, Trembling even at the name of Mortimer. WORCESTER I cannot blame him. Was not he proclaimed By Richard, that dead is, the next of blood? NORTHUMBERLAND He was; I heard the proclamation. And then it was when the unhappy king-- Whose wrongs in us God pardon!--did set forth Upon his Irish expedition; From whence he, intercepted, did return To be deposed and shortly murdered. WORCESTER And for whose death we in the world's wide mouth Live scandalized and foully spoken of. HOTSPUR But soft, I pray you. Did King Richard then Proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer Heir to the crown? NORTHUMBERLAND He did; myself did hear it. HOTSPUR Nay then, I cannot blame his cousin king That wished him on the barren mountains starve. But shall it be that you that set the crown Upon the head of this forgetful man And for his sake wear the detested blot Of murderous subornation--shall it be That you a world of curses undergo, Being the agents or base second means, The cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather? O, pardon me that I descend so low To show the line and the predicament Wherein you range under this subtle king. Shall it for shame be spoken in these days, Or fill up chronicles in time to come, That men of your nobility and power Did gage them both in an unjust behalf (As both of you, God pardon it, have done) To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose, And plant this thorn, this canker, Bolingbroke? And shall it in more shame be further spoken That you are fooled, discarded, and shook off By him for whom these shames you underwent? No, yet time serves wherein you may redeem Your banished honors and restore yourselves Into the good thoughts of the world again, Revenge the jeering and disdained contempt Of this proud king, who studies day and night To answer all the debt he owes to you Even with the bloody payment of your deaths. Therefore I say-- WORCESTER Peace, cousin, say no more. And now I will unclasp a secret book, And to your quick-conceiving discontents I'll read you matter deep and dangerous, As full of peril and adventurous spirit As to o'erwalk a current roaring loud On the unsteadfast footing of a spear. HOTSPUR If he fall in, good night, or sink or swim! Send danger from the east unto the west, So honor cross it from the north to south, And let them grapple. O, the blood more stirs To rouse a lion than to start a hare! NORTHUMBERLAND, [to Worcester] Imagination of some great exploit Drives him beyond the bounds of patience. HOTSPUR By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap To pluck bright honor from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned honor by the locks, So he that doth redeem her thence might wear Without corrival all her dignities. But out upon this half-faced fellowship! WORCESTER He apprehends a world of figures here, But not the form of what he should attend.-- Good cousin, give me audience for a while. HOTSPUR I cry you mercy. WORCESTER Those same noble Scots That are your prisoners-- HOTSPUR I'll keep them all. By God, he shall not have a Scot of them. No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not. I'll keep them, by this hand! WORCESTER You start away And lend no ear unto my purposes: Those prisoners you shall keep-- HOTSPUR Nay, I will. That's flat! He said he would not ransom Mortimer, Forbade my tongue to speak of Mortimer. But I will find him when he lies asleep, And in his ear I'll hollo "Mortimer." Nay, I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak Nothing but "Mortimer," and give it him To keep his anger still in motion. WORCESTER Hear you, cousin, a word. HOTSPUR All studies here I solemnly defy, Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke. And that same sword-and-buckler Prince of Wales-- But that I think his father loves him not And would be glad he met with some mischance-- I would have him poisoned with a pot of ale. WORCESTER Farewell, kinsman. I'll talk to you When you are better tempered to attend. NORTHUMBERLAND, [to Hotspur] Why, what a wasp-stung and impatient fool Art thou to break into this woman's mood, Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own! HOTSPUR Why, look you, I am whipped and scourged with rods, Nettled and stung with pismires, when I hear Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke. In Richard's time--what do you call the place? A plague upon it! It is in Gloucestershire. 'Twas where the madcap duke his uncle kept, His uncle York, where I first bowed my knee Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke. 'Sblood, when you and he came back from Ravenspurgh. NORTHUMBERLAND At Berkeley Castle. HOTSPUR You say true. Why, what a candy deal of courtesy This fawning greyhound then did proffer me: "Look when his infant fortune came to age," And "gentle Harry Percy," and "kind cousin." O, the devil take such cozeners!--God forgive me! Good uncle, tell your tale. I have done. WORCESTER Nay, if you have not, to it again. We will stay your leisure. HOTSPUR I have done, i' faith. WORCESTER Then once more to your Scottish prisoners: Deliver them up without their ransom straight, And make the Douglas' son your only mean For powers in Scotland, which, for divers reasons Which I shall send you written, be assured Will easily be granted.--You, my lord, Your son in Scotland being thus employed, Shall secretly into the bosom creep Of that same noble prelate well beloved, The Archbishop. HOTSPUR Of York, is it not? WORCESTER True, who bears hard His brother's death at Bristol, the Lord Scroop. I speak not this in estimation, As what I think might be, but what I know Is ruminated, plotted, and set down, And only stays but to behold the face Of that occasion that shall bring it on. HOTSPUR I smell it. Upon my life it will do well. NORTHUMBERLAND Before the game is afoot thou still let'st slip. HOTSPUR Why, it cannot choose but be a noble plot. And then the power of Scotland and of York To join with Mortimer, ha? WORCESTER And so they shall. HOTSPUR In faith, it is exceedingly well aimed. WORCESTER And 'tis no little reason bids us speed To save our heads by raising of a head, For bear ourselves as even as we can, The King will always think him in our debt, And think we think ourselves unsatisfied, Till he hath found a time to pay us home. And see already how he doth begin To make us strangers to his looks of love. HOTSPUR He does, he does. We'll be revenged on him. WORCESTER Cousin, farewell. No further go in this Than I by letters shall direct your course. When time is ripe, which will be suddenly, I'll steal to Glendower and Lord Mortimer, Where you and Douglas and our powers at once, As I will fashion it, shall happily meet To bear our fortunes in our own strong arms, Which now we hold at much uncertainty. NORTHUMBERLAND Farewell, good brother. We shall thrive, I trust. HOTSPUR Uncle, adieu. O, let the hours be short Till fields and blows and groans applaud our sport. [They exit.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter a Carrier with a lantern in his hand.] FIRST CARRIER Heigh-ho! An it be not four by the day, I'll be hanged. Charles's Wain is over the new chimney, and yet our horse not packed.--What, ostler! OSTLER, [within] Anon, anon. FIRST CARRIER I prithee, Tom, beat Cut's saddle. Put a few flocks in the point. Poor jade is wrung in the withers out of all cess. [Enter another Carrier, with a lantern.] SECOND CARRIER Peas and beans are as dank here as a dog, and that is the next way to give poor jades the bots. This house is turned upside down since Robin ostler died. FIRST CARRIER Poor fellow never joyed since the price of oats rose. It was the death of him. SECOND CARRIER I think this be the most villainous house in all London road for fleas. I am stung like a tench. FIRST CARRIER Like a tench? By the Mass, there is ne'er a king christen could be better bit than I have been since the first cock. SECOND CARRIER Why, they will allow us ne'er a jordan, and then we leak in your chimney, and your chamber-lye breeds fleas like a loach. FIRST CARRIER What, ostler, come away and be hanged. Come away. SECOND CARRIER I have a gammon of bacon and two races of ginger to be delivered as far as Charing Cross. FIRST CARRIER God's body, the turkeys in my pannier are quite starved.--What, ostler! A plague on thee! Hast thou never an eye in thy head? Canst not hear? An 'twere not as good deed as drink to break the pate on thee, I am a very villain. Come, and be hanged. Hast no faith in thee? [Enter Gadshill.] GADSHILL Good morrow, carriers. What's o'clock? FIRST CARRIER I think it be two o'clock. GADSHILL I prithee, lend me thy lantern to see my gelding in the stable. FIRST CARRIER Nay, by God, soft. I know a trick worth two of that, i' faith. GADSHILL, [to Second Carrier] I pray thee, lend me thine. SECOND CARRIER Ay, when, canst tell? "Lend me thy lantern," quoth he. Marry, I'll see thee hanged first. GADSHILL Sirrah carrier, what time do you mean to come to London? SECOND CARRIER Time enough to go to bed with a candle, I warrant thee. Come, neighbor Mugs, we'll call up the gentlemen. They will along with company, for they have great charge. [Carriers exit.] GADSHILL What ho, chamberlain! [Enter Chamberlain.] CHAMBERLAIN At hand, quoth pickpurse. GADSHILL That's even as fair as "at hand, quoth the Chamberlain," for thou variest no more from picking of purses than giving direction doth from laboring: thou layest the plot how. CHAMBERLAIN Good morrow, Master Gadshill. It holds current that I told you yesternight: there's a franklin in the Wild of Kent hath brought three hundred marks with him in gold. I heard him tell it to one of his company last night at supper--a kind of auditor, one that hath abundance of charge too, God knows what. They are up already and call for eggs and butter. They will away presently. GADSHILL Sirrah, if they meet not with Saint Nicholas' clerks, I'll give thee this neck. CHAMBERLAIN No, I'll none of it. I pray thee, keep that for the hangman, for I know thou worshipest Saint Nicholas as truly as a man of falsehood may. GADSHILL What talkest thou to me of the hangman? If I hang, I'll make a fat pair of gallows, for if I hang, old Sir John hangs with me, and thou knowest he is no starveling. Tut, there are other Troyans that thou dream'st not of, the which for sport sake are content to do the profession some grace, that would, if matters should be looked into, for their own credit sake make all whole. I am joined with no foot-land-rakers, no long-staff sixpenny strikers, none of these mad mustachio purple-hued malt-worms, but with nobility and tranquillity, burgomasters and great oneyers, such as can hold in, such as will strike sooner than speak, and speak sooner than drink, and drink sooner than pray, and yet, zounds, I lie, for they pray continually to their saint the commonwealth, or rather not pray to her but prey on her, for they ride up and down on her and make her their boots. CHAMBERLAIN What, the commonwealth their boots? Will she hold out water in foul way? GADSHILL She will, she will. Justice hath liquored her. We steal as in a castle, cocksure. We have the receipt of fern seed; we walk invisible. CHAMBERLAIN Nay, by my faith, I think you are more beholding to the night than to fern seed for your walking invisible. GADSHILL Give me thy hand. Thou shalt have a share in our purchase, as I am a true man. CHAMBERLAIN Nay, rather let me have it as you are a false thief. GADSHILL Go to. Homo is a common name to all men. Bid the ostler bring my gelding out of the stable. Farewell, you muddy knave. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Prince, Poins, Bardolph, and Peto.] POINS Come, shelter, shelter! I have removed Falstaff's horse, and he frets like a gummed velvet. PRINCE Stand close. [Poins, Bardolph, and Peto exit.] [Enter Falstaff.] FALSTAFF Poins! Poins, and be hanged! Poins! PRINCE Peace, you fat-kidneyed rascal. What a brawling dost thou keep! FALSTAFF Where's Poins, Hal? PRINCE He is walked up to the top of the hill. I'll go seek him. [Prince exits.] FALSTAFF I am accursed to rob in that thief's company. The rascal hath removed my horse and tied him I know not where. If I travel but four foot by the square further afoot, I shall break my wind. Well, I doubt not but to die a fair death for all this, if I 'scape hanging for killing that rogue. I have forsworn his company hourly any time this two-and-twenty years, and yet I am bewitched with the rogue's company. If the rascal have not given me medicines to make me love him, I'll be hanged. It could not be else: I have drunk medicines.--Poins! Hal! A plague upon you both.--Bardolph! Peto!-- I'll starve ere I'll rob a foot further. An 'twere not as good a deed as drink to turn true man and to leave these rogues, I am the veriest varlet that ever chewed with a tooth. Eight yards of uneven ground is threescore and ten miles afoot with me, and the stony-hearted villains know it well enough. A plague upon it when thieves cannot be true one to another! [(They whistle, within.)] Whew! A plague upon you all! [Enter the Prince, Poins, Peto, and Bardolph.] Give me my horse, you rogues. Give me my horse and be hanged! PRINCE Peace, you fat guts! Lie down, lay thine ear close to the ground, and list if thou canst hear the tread of travelers. FALSTAFF Have you any levers to lift me up again being down? 'Sblood, I'll not bear my own flesh so far afoot again for all the coin in thy father's Exchequer. What a plague mean you to colt me thus? PRINCE Thou liest. Thou art not colted; thou art uncolted. FALSTAFF I prithee, good Prince Hal, help me to my horse, good king's son. PRINCE Out, you rogue! Shall I be your ostler? FALSTAFF Hang thyself in thine own heir-apparent garters! If I be ta'en, I'll peach for this. An I have not ballads made on you all and sung to filthy tunes, let a cup of sack be my poison--when a jest is so forward, and afoot too! I hate it. [Enter Gadshill.] GADSHILL Stand. FALSTAFF So I do, against my will. POINS O, 'tis our setter. I know his voice. BARDOLPH What news? GADSHILL Case you, case you. On with your vizards. There's money of the King's coming down the hill. 'Tis going to the King's Exchequer. FALSTAFF You lie, you rogue. 'Tis going to the King's Tavern. GADSHILL There's enough to make us all. FALSTAFF To be hanged. PRINCE Sirs, you four shall front them in the narrow lane. Ned Poins and I will walk lower. If they 'scape from your encounter, then they light on us. PETO How many be there of them? GADSHILL Some eight or ten. FALSTAFF Zounds, will they not rob us? PRINCE What, a coward, Sir John Paunch? FALSTAFF Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grandfather, but yet no coward, Hal. PRINCE Well, we leave that to the proof. POINS Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind the hedge. When thou need'st him, there thou shalt find him. Farewell and stand fast. FALSTAFF Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hanged. PRINCE, [aside to Poins] Ned, where are our disguises? POINS, [aside to Prince] Here, hard by. Stand close. [The Prince and Poins exit.] FALSTAFF Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I. Every man to his business. [They step aside.] [Enter the Travelers.] FIRST TRAVELER Come, neighbor, the boy shall lead our horses down the hill. We'll walk afoot awhile and ease our legs. THIEVES, [advancing] Stand! TRAVELERS Jesus bless us! FALSTAFF Strike! Down with them! Cut the villains' throats! Ah, whoreson caterpillars, bacon-fed knaves, they hate us youth. Down with them! Fleece them! TRAVELERS O, we are undone, both we and ours forever! FALSTAFF Hang, you gorbellied knaves! Are you undone? No, you fat chuffs. I would your store were here. On, bacons, on! What, you knaves, young men must live. You are grandjurors, are you? We'll jure you, faith. [Here they rob them and bind them. They all exit.] [Enter the Prince and Poins, disguised.] PRINCE The thieves have bound the true men. Now could thou and I rob the thieves and go merrily to London, it would be argument for a week, laughter for a month, and a good jest forever. POINS Stand close, I hear them coming. [They step aside.] [Enter the Thieves again.] FALSTAFF Come, my masters, let us share, and then to horse before day. An the Prince and Poins be not two arrant cowards, there's no equity stirring. There's no more valor in that Poins than in a wild duck. [As they are sharing, the Prince and Poins set upon them.] PRINCE Your money! POINS Villains! [They all run away, and Falstaff, after a blow or two, runs away too, leaving the booty behind them.] PRINCE Got with much ease. Now merrily to horse. The thieves are all scattered, and possessed with fear So strongly that they dare not meet each other. Each takes his fellow for an officer. Away, good Ned. Falstaff sweats to death, And lards the lean earth as he walks along. Were 't not for laughing, I should pity him. POINS How the fat rogue roared! [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Hotspur alone, reading a letter.] HOTSPUR But, for mine own part, my lord, I could be well contented to be there, in respect of the love I bear your house. He could be contented; why is he not, then? In respect of the love he bears our house--he shows in this he loves his own barn better than he loves our house. Let me see some more. The purpose you undertake is dangerous. Why, that's certain. 'Tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink; but I tell you, my Lord Fool, out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. The purpose you undertake is dangerous, the friends you have named uncertain, the time itself unsorted, and your whole plot too light for the counterpoise of so great an opposition. Say you so, say you so? I say unto you again, you are a shallow, cowardly hind, and you lie. What a lack-brain is this! By the Lord, our plot is a good plot as ever was laid, our friends true and constant--a good plot, good friends, and full of expectation; an excellent plot, very good friends. What a frosty-spirited rogue is this! Why, my Lord of York commends the plot and the general course of the action. Zounds, an I were now by this rascal, I could brain him with his lady's fan. Is there not my father, my uncle, and myself, Lord Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of York, and Owen Glendower? Is there not besides the Douglas? Have I not all their letters to meet me in arms by the ninth of the next month, and are they not some of them set forward already? What a pagan rascal is this--an infidel! Ha, you shall see now, in very sincerity of fear and cold heart, will he to the King and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could divide myself and go to buffets for moving such a dish of skim milk with so honorable an action! Hang him, let him tell the King. We are prepared. I will set forward tonight. [Enter his Lady.] How now, Kate? I must leave you within these two hours. LADY PERCY O my good lord, why are you thus alone? For what offense have I this fortnight been A banished woman from my Harry's bed? Tell me, sweet lord, what is 't that takes from thee Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep? Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth And start so often when thou sit'st alone? Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks And given my treasures and my rights of thee To thick-eyed musing and curst melancholy? In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watched, And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars, Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed, Cry "Courage! To the field!" And thou hast talked Of sallies and retires, of trenches, tents, Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets, Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin, Of prisoners' ransom, and of soldiers slain, And all the currents of a heady fight. Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war, And thus hath so bestirred thee in thy sleep, That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow Like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream, And in thy face strange motions have appeared, Such as we see when men restrain their breath On some great sudden hest. O, what portents are these? Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, And I must know it, else he loves me not. HOTSPUR What, ho! [Enter a Servant.] Is Gilliams with the packet gone? SERVANT He is, my lord, an hour ago. HOTSPUR Hath Butler brought those horses from the sheriff? SERVANT One horse, my lord, he brought even now. HOTSPUR What horse? A roan, a crop-ear, is it not? SERVANT It is, my lord. HOTSPUR That roan shall be my throne. Well, I will back him straight. O, Esperance! Bid Butler lead him forth into the park. [Servant exits.] LADY PERCY But hear you, my lord. HOTSPUR What say'st thou, my lady? LADY PERCY What is it carries you away? HOTSPUR Why, my horse, my love, my horse. LADY PERCY Out, you mad-headed ape! A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen As you are tossed with. In faith, I'll know your business, Harry, that I will. I fear my brother Mortimer doth stir About his title, and hath sent for you To line his enterprise; but if you go-- HOTSPUR So far afoot, I shall be weary, love. LADY PERCY Come, come, you paraquito, answer me Directly unto this question that I ask. In faith, I'll break thy little finger, Harry, An if thou wilt not tell me all things true. HOTSPUR Away! Away, you trifler. Love, I love thee not. I care not for thee, Kate. This is no world To play with mammets and to tilt with lips. We must have bloody noses and cracked crowns, And pass them current too.--Gods me, my horse!-- What say'st thou, Kate? What wouldst thou have with me? LADY PERCY Do you not love me? Do you not indeed? Well, do not then, for since you love me not, I will not love myself. Do you not love me? Nay, tell me if you speak in jest or no. HOTSPUR Come, wilt thou see me ride? And when I am a-horseback I will swear I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate, I must not have you henceforth question me Whither I go, nor reason whereabout. Whither I must, I must; and to conclude This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate. I know you wise, but yet no farther wise Than Harry Percy's wife; constant you are, But yet a woman; and for secrecy No lady closer, for I well believe Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know, And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate. LADY PERCY How? So far? HOTSPUR Not an inch further. But hark you, Kate, Whither I go, thither shall you go too. Today will I set forth, tomorrow you. Will this content you, Kate? LADY PERCY It must, of force. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Prince and Poins.] PRINCE Ned, prithee, come out of that fat room and lend me thy hand to laugh a little. POINS Where hast been, Hal? PRINCE With three or four loggerheads amongst three or fourscore hogsheads. I have sounded the very bass string of humility. Sirrah, I am sworn brother to a leash of drawers, and can call them all by their Christian names, as Tom, Dick, and Francis. They take it already upon their salvation that though I be but Prince of Wales, yet I am the king of courtesy, and tell me flatly I am no proud jack, like Falstaff, but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy--by the Lord, so they call me--and when I am king of England, I shall command all the good lads in Eastcheap. They call drinking deep "dyeing scarlet," and when you breathe in your watering, they cry "Hem!" and bid you "Play it off!" To conclude, I am so good a proficient in one quarter of an hour that I can drink with any tinker in his own language during my life. I tell thee, Ned, thou hast lost much honor that thou wert not with me in this action; but, sweet Ned--to sweeten which name of Ned, I give thee this pennyworth of sugar, clapped even now into my hand by an underskinker, one that never spake other English in his life than "Eight shillings and sixpence," and "You are welcome," with this shrill addition, "Anon, anon, sir.--Score a pint of bastard in the Half-moon," or so. But, Ned, to drive away the time till Falstaff come, I prithee, do thou stand in some by-room while I question my puny drawer to what end he gave me the sugar, and do thou never leave calling "Francis," that his tale to me may be nothing but "Anon." Step aside, and I'll show thee a precedent. [Poins exits.] POINS, [within] Francis! PRINCE Thou art perfect. POINS, [within] Francis! [Enter Francis, the Drawer.] FRANCIS Anon, anon, sir.--Look down into the Pomgarnet, Ralph. PRINCE Come hither, Francis. FRANCIS My lord? PRINCE How long hast thou to serve, Francis? FRANCIS Forsooth, five years, and as much as to-- POINS, [within] Francis! FRANCIS Anon, anon, sir. PRINCE Five year! By 'r Lady, a long lease for the clinking of pewter! But, Francis, darest thou be so valiant as to play the coward with thy indenture, and show it a fair pair of heels, and run from it? FRANCIS O Lord, sir, I'll be sworn upon all the books in England, I could find in my heart-- POINS, [within] Francis! FRANCIS Anon, sir. PRINCE How old art thou, Francis? FRANCIS Let me see. About Michaelmas next, I shall be-- POINS, [within] Francis! FRANCIS Anon, sir.--Pray, stay a little, my lord. PRINCE Nay, but hark you, Francis, for the sugar thou gavest me--'twas a pennyworth, was 't not? FRANCIS O Lord, I would it had been two! PRINCE I will give thee for it a thousand pound. Ask me when thou wilt, and thou shalt have it. POINS, [within] Francis! FRANCIS Anon, anon. PRINCE Anon, Francis? No, Francis. But tomorrow, Francis; or, Francis, o' Thursday; or indeed, Francis, when thou wilt. But, Francis-- FRANCIS My lord? PRINCE Wilt thou rob this leathern-jerkin, crystal-button, not-pated, agate-ring, puke-stocking, caddis-garter, smooth-tongue, Spanish-pouch-- FRANCIS O Lord, sir, who do you mean? PRINCE Why then, your brown bastard is your only drink, for look you, Francis, your white canvas doublet will sully. In Barbary, sir, it cannot come to so much. FRANCIS What, sir? POINS, [within] Francis! PRINCE Away, you rogue! Dost thou not hear them call? [Here they both call him. The Drawer stands amazed, not knowing which way to go.] [Enter Vintner.] VINTNER What, stand'st thou still and hear'st such a calling? Look to the guests within. [Francis exits.] My lord, old Sir John with half a dozen more are at the door. Shall I let them in? PRINCE Let them alone awhile, and then open the door. [Vintner exits.] Poins! [Enter Poins.] POINS Anon, anon, sir. PRINCE Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the thieves are at the door. Shall we be merry? POINS As merry as crickets, my lad. But hark you, what cunning match have you made with this jest of the drawer. Come, what's the issue? PRINCE I am now of all humors that have showed themselves humors since the old days of Goodman Adam to the pupil age of this present twelve o'clock at midnight. [Enter Francis, in haste.] What's o'clock, Francis? FRANCIS Anon, anon, sir. [Francis exits.] PRINCE That ever this fellow should have fewer words than a parrot, and yet the son of a woman! His industry is upstairs and downstairs, his eloquence the parcel of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the north, he that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, washes his hands, and says to his wife "Fie upon this quiet life! I want work." "O my sweet Harry," says she, "how many hast thou killed today?" "Give my roan horse a drench," says he, and answers "Some fourteen," an hour after. "A trifle, a trifle." I prithee, call in Falstaff. I'll play Percy, and that damned brawn shall play Dame Mortimer his wife. "Rivo!" says the drunkard. Call in Ribs, call in Tallow. [Enter Falstaff, Gadshill, Peto, Bardolph; and Francis, with wine.] POINS Welcome, Jack. Where hast thou been? FALSTAFF A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too! Marry and amen!--Give me a cup of sack, boy.--Ere I lead this life long, I'll sew netherstocks and mend them, and foot them too. A plague of all cowards!--Give me a cup of sack, rogue!--Is there no virtue extant? [He drinketh.] PRINCE Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter--pitiful-hearted Titan!--that melted at the sweet tale of the sun's? If thou didst, then behold that compound. FALSTAFF, [to Francis] You rogue, here's lime in this sack too.--There is nothing but roguery to be found in villainous man, yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime in it. A villainous coward! Go thy ways, old Jack. Die when thou wilt. If manhood, good manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the Earth, then am I a shotten herring. There lives not three good men unhanged in England, and one of them is fat and grows old, God help the while. A bad world, I say. I would I were a weaver. I could sing psalms, or anything. A plague of all cowards, I say still. PRINCE How now, woolsack, what mutter you? FALSTAFF A king's son! If I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy subjects afore thee like a flock of wild geese, I'll never wear hair on my face more. You, Prince of Wales! PRINCE Why, you whoreson round man, what's the matter? FALSTAFF Are not you a coward? Answer me to that-- and Poins there? POINS Zounds, you fat paunch, an you call me coward, by the Lord, I'll stab thee. FALSTAFF I call thee coward? I'll see thee damned ere I call thee coward, but I would give a thousand pound I could run as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the shoulders you care not who sees your back. Call you that backing of your friends? A plague upon such backing! Give me them that will face me.--Give me a cup of sack.--I am a rogue if I drunk today. PRINCE O villain, thy lips are scarce wiped since thou drunk'st last. FALSTAFF All is one for that. [(He drinketh.)] A plague of all cowards, still say I. PRINCE What's the matter? FALSTAFF What's the matter? There be four of us here have ta'en a thousand pound this day morning. PRINCE Where is it, Jack, where is it? FALSTAFF Where is it? Taken from us it is. A hundred upon poor four of us. PRINCE What, a hundred, man? FALSTAFF I am a rogue if I were not at half-sword with a dozen of them two hours together. I have 'scaped by miracle. I am eight times thrust through the doublet, four through the hose, my buckler cut through and through, my sword hacked like a handsaw. Ecce signum! I never dealt better since I was a man. All would not do. A plague of all cowards! Let them speak. [Pointing to Gadshill, Bardolph, and Peto.] If they speak more or less than truth, they are villains, and the sons of darkness. PRINCE Speak, sirs, how was it? BARDOLPH We four set upon some dozen. FALSTAFF Sixteen at least, my lord. BARDOLPH And bound them. PETO No, no, they were not bound. FALSTAFF You rogue, they were bound, every man of them, or I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew. BARDOLPH As we were sharing, some six or seven fresh men set upon us. FALSTAFF And unbound the rest, and then come in the other. PRINCE What, fought you with them all? FALSTAFF All? I know not what you call all, but if I fought not with fifty of them I am a bunch of radish. If there were not two- or three-and-fifty upon poor old Jack, then am I no two-legged creature. PRINCE Pray God you have not murdered some of them. FALSTAFF Nay, that's past praying for. I have peppered two of them. Two I am sure I have paid, two rogues in buckram suits. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, call me horse. Thou knowest my old ward. Here I lay, and thus I bore my point. Four rogues in buckram let drive at me. PRINCE What, four? Thou said'st but two even now. FALSTAFF Four, Hal, I told thee four. POINS Ay, ay, he said four. FALSTAFF These four came all afront, and mainly thrust at me. I made me no more ado, but took all their seven points in my target, thus. PRINCE Seven? Why there were but four even now. FALSTAFF In buckram? POINS Ay, four in buckram suits. FALSTAFF Seven by these hilts, or I am a villain else. PRINCE, [to Poins] Prithee, let him alone. We shall have more anon. FALSTAFF Dost thou hear me, Hal? PRINCE Ay, and mark thee too, Jack. FALSTAFF Do so, for it is worth the listening to. These nine in buckram that I told thee of-- PRINCE So, two more already. FALSTAFF Their points being broken-- POINS Down fell their hose. FALSTAFF Began to give me ground, but I followed me close, came in foot and hand, and, with a thought, seven of the eleven I paid. PRINCE O monstrous! Eleven buckram men grown out of two! FALSTAFF But as the devil would have it, three misbegotten knaves in Kendal green came at my back, and let drive at me, for it was so dark, Hal, that thou couldst not see thy hand. PRINCE These lies are like their father that begets them, gross as a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou claybrained guts, thou knotty-pated fool, thou whoreson, obscene, greasy tallow-catch-- FALSTAFF What, art thou mad? Art thou mad? Is not the truth the truth? PRINCE Why, how couldst thou know these men in Kendal green when it was so dark thou couldst not see thy hand? Come, tell us your reason. What sayest thou to this? POINS Come, your reason, Jack, your reason. FALSTAFF What, upon compulsion? Zounds, an I were at the strappado or all the racks in the world, I would not tell you on compulsion. Give you a reason on compulsion? If reasons were as plentiful as blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon compulsion, I. PRINCE I'll be no longer guilty of this sin. This sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horse-backbreaker, this huge hill of flesh-- FALSTAFF 'Sblood, you starveling, you elfskin, you dried neat's tongue, you bull's pizzle, you stockfish! O, for breath to utter what is like thee! You tailor's yard, you sheath, you bowcase, you vile standing tuck-- PRINCE Well, breathe awhile, and then to it again, and when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons, hear me speak but this. POINS Mark, Jack. PRINCE We two saw you four set on four, and bound them and were masters of their wealth. Mark now how a plain tale shall put you down. Then did we two set on you four and, with a word, outfaced you from your prize, and have it, yea, and can show it you here in the house. And, Falstaff, you carried your guts away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and roared for mercy, and still run and roared, as ever I heard bull-calf. What a slave art thou to hack thy sword as thou hast done, and then say it was in fight! What trick, what device, what starting-hole canst thou now find out to hide thee from this open and apparent shame? POINS Come, let's hear, Jack. What trick hast thou now? FALSTAFF By the Lord, I knew you as well as he that made you. Why, hear you, my masters, was it for me to kill the heir apparent? Should I turn upon the true prince? Why, thou knowest I am as valiant as Hercules, but beware instinct. The lion will not touch the true prince. Instinct is a great matter. I was now a coward on instinct. I shall think the better of myself, and thee, during my life-- I for a valiant lion, and thou for a true prince. But, by the Lord, lads, I am glad you have the money.--Hostess, clap to the doors.--Watch tonight, pray tomorrow. Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold, all the titles of good fellowship come to you. What, shall we be merry? Shall we have a play extempore? PRINCE Content, and the argument shall be thy running away. FALSTAFF Ah, no more of that, Hal, an thou lovest me. [Enter Hostess.] HOSTESS O Jesu, my lord the Prince-- PRINCE How now, my lady the hostess, what sayst thou to me? HOSTESS Marry, my lord, there is a nobleman of the court at door would speak with you. He says he comes from your father. PRINCE Give him as much as will make him a royal man and send him back again to my mother. FALSTAFF What manner of man is he? HOSTESS An old man. FALSTAFF What doth Gravity out of his bed at midnight? Shall I give him his answer? PRINCE Prithee do, Jack. FALSTAFF Faith, and I'll send him packing. [He exits.] PRINCE Now, sirs. [To Gadshill.] By 'r Lady, you fought fair.--So did you, Peto.--So did you, Bardolph.-- You are lions too. You ran away upon instinct. You will not touch the true prince. No, fie! BARDOLPH Faith, I ran when I saw others run. PRINCE Faith, tell me now in earnest, how came Falstaff's sword so hacked? PETO Why, he hacked it with his dagger and said he would swear truth out of England but he would make you believe it was done in fight, and persuaded us to do the like. BARDOLPH Yea, and to tickle our noses with speargrass to make them bleed, and then to beslubber our garments with it, and swear it was the blood of true men. I did that I did not this seven year before: I blushed to hear his monstrous devices. PRINCE O villain, thou stolest a cup of sack eighteen years ago, and wert taken with the manner, and ever since thou hast blushed extempore. Thou hadst fire and sword on thy side, and yet thou ran'st away. What instinct hadst thou for it? BARDOLPH My lord, do you see these meteors? Do you behold these exhalations? PRINCE I do. BARDOLPH What think you they portend? PRINCE Hot livers and cold purses. BARDOLPH Choler, my lord, if rightly taken. PRINCE No. If rightly taken, halter. [Enter Falstaff.] Here comes lean Jack. Here comes bare-bone.-- How now, my sweet creature of bombast? How long is 't ago, Jack, since thou sawest thine own knee? FALSTAFF My own knee? When I was about thy years, Hal, I was not an eagle's talon in the waist. I could have crept into any alderman's thumb-ring. A plague of sighing and grief! It blows a man up like a bladder. There's villainous news abroad. Here was Sir John Bracy from your father. You must to the court in the morning. That same mad fellow of the north, Percy, and he of Wales that gave Amamon the bastinado, and made Lucifer cuckold, and swore the devil his true liegeman upon the cross of a Welsh hook--what a plague call you him? POINS Owen Glendower. FALSTAFF Owen, Owen, the same, and his son-in-law Mortimer, and old Northumberland, and that sprightly Scot of Scots, Douglas, that runs a-horseback up a hill perpendicular-- PRINCE He that rides at high speed, and with his pistol kills a sparrow flying. FALSTAFF You have hit it. PRINCE So did he never the sparrow. FALSTAFF Well, that rascal hath good mettle in him. He will not run. PRINCE Why, what a rascal art thou then to praise him so for running? FALSTAFF A-horseback, you cuckoo, but afoot he will not budge a foot. PRINCE Yes, Jack, upon instinct. FALSTAFF I grant you, upon instinct. Well, he is there too, and one Mordake, and a thousand blue-caps more. Worcester is stolen away tonight. Thy father's beard is turned white with the news. You may buy land now as cheap as stinking mackerel. PRINCE Why then, it is like if there come a hot June, and this civil buffeting hold, we shall buy maidenheads as they buy hobnails, by the hundreds. FALSTAFF By the Mass, thou sayest true. It is like we shall have good trading that way. But tell me, Hal, art not thou horrible afeard? Thou being heir apparent, could the world pick thee out three such enemies again as that fiend Douglas, that spirit Percy, and that devil Glendower? Art thou not horribly afraid? Doth not thy blood thrill at it? PRINCE Not a whit, i' faith. I lack some of thy instinct. FALSTAFF Well, thou wilt be horribly chid tomorrow when thou comest to thy father. If thou love me, practice an answer. PRINCE Do thou stand for my father and examine me upon the particulars of my life. FALSTAFF Shall I? Content. [He sits down.] This chair shall be my state, this dagger my scepter, and this cushion my crown. PRINCE Thy state is taken for a joined stool, thy golden scepter for a leaden dagger, and thy precious rich crown for a pitiful bald crown. FALSTAFF Well, an the fire of grace be not quite out of thee, now shalt thou be moved.--Give me a cup of sack to make my eyes look red, that it may be thought I have wept, for I must speak in passion, and I will do it in King Cambyses' vein. PRINCE, [bowing] Well, here is my leg. FALSTAFF And here is my speech. [As King.] Stand aside, nobility. HOSTESS O Jesu, this is excellent sport, i' faith! FALSTAFF, [as King] Weep not, sweet queen, for trickling tears are vain. HOSTESS O the Father, how he holds his countenance! FALSTAFF, [as King] For God's sake, lords, convey my tristful queen, For tears do stop the floodgates of her eyes. HOSTESS O Jesu, he doth it as like one of these harlotry players as ever I see. FALSTAFF Peace, good pint-pot. Peace, good tickle-brain.-- [As King.] Harry, I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy time, but also how thou art accompanied. For though the camomile, the more it is trodden on, the faster it grows, so youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it wears. That thou art my son I have partly thy mother's word, partly my own opinion, but chiefly a villainous trick of thine eye and a foolish hanging of thy nether lip that doth warrant me. If then thou be son to me, here lies the point: why, being son to me, art thou so pointed at? Shall the blessed sun of heaven prove a micher and eat blackberries? A question not to be asked. Shall the son of England prove a thief and take purses? A question to be asked. There is a thing, Harry, which thou hast often heard of, and it is known to many in our land by the name of pitch. This pitch, as ancient writers do report, doth defile; so doth the company thou keepest. For, Harry, now I do not speak to thee in drink, but in tears; not in pleasure, but in passion; not in words only, but in woes also. And yet there is a virtuous man whom I have often noted in thy company, but I know not his name. PRINCE What manner of man, an it like your Majesty? FALSTAFF, [as King] A goodly portly man, i' faith, and a corpulent; of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble carriage, and, as I think, his age some fifty, or, by 'r Lady, inclining to threescore; and now I remember me, his name is Falstaff. If that man should be lewdly given, he deceiveth me, for, Harry, I see virtue in his looks. If then the tree may be known by the fruit, as the fruit by the tree, then peremptorily I speak it: there is virtue in that Falstaff; him keep with, the rest banish. And tell me now, thou naughty varlet, tell me where hast thou been this month? PRINCE Dost thou speak like a king? Do thou stand for me, and I'll play my father. FALSTAFF, [rising] Depose me? If thou dost it half so gravely, so majestically, both in word and matter, hang me up by the heels for a rabbit-sucker or a poulter's hare. PRINCE, [sitting down] Well, here I am set. FALSTAFF And here I stand.--Judge, my masters. PRINCE, [as King] Now, Harry, whence come you? FALSTAFF, [as Prince] My noble lord, from Eastcheap. PRINCE, [as King] The complaints I hear of thee are grievous. FALSTAFF, [as Prince] 'Sblood, my lord, they are false. --Nay, I'll tickle you for a young prince, i' faith. PRINCE, [as King] Swearest thou? Ungracious boy, henceforth ne'er look on me. Thou art violently carried away from grace. There is a devil haunts thee in the likeness of an old fat man. A tun of man is thy companion. Why dost thou converse with that trunk of humors, that bolting-hutch of beastliness, that swollen parcel of dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stuffed cloakbag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox with the pudding in his belly, that reverend Vice, that gray iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity in years? Wherein is he good, but to taste sack and drink it? Wherein neat and cleanly but to carve a capon and eat it? Wherein cunning but in craft? Wherein crafty but in villainy? Wherein villainous but in all things? Wherein worthy but in nothing? FALSTAFF, [as Prince] I would your Grace would take me with you. Whom means your Grace? PRINCE, [as King] That villainous abominable misleader of youth, Falstaff, that old white-bearded Satan. FALSTAFF, [as Prince] My lord, the man I know. PRINCE, [as King] I know thou dost. FALSTAFF, [as Prince] But to say I know more harm in him than in myself were to say more than I know. That he is old, the more the pity; his white hairs do witness it. But that he is, saving your reverence, a whoremaster, that I utterly deny. If sack and sugar be a fault, God help the wicked. If to be old and merry be a sin, then many an old host that I know is damned. If to be fat be to be hated, then Pharaoh's lean kine are to be loved. No, my good lord, banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poins, but for sweet Jack Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff, true Jack Falstaff, valiant Jack Falstaff, and therefore more valiant being as he is old Jack Falstaff, banish not him thy Harry's company, banish not him thy Harry's company. Banish plump Jack, and banish all the world. PRINCE I do, I will. [A loud knocking, and Bardolph, Hostess, and Francis exit.] [Enter Bardolph running.] BARDOLPH O my lord, my lord, the Sheriff with a most monstrous watch is at the door. FALSTAFF Out, you rogue.--Play out the play. I have much to say in the behalf of that Falstaff. [Enter the Hostess.] HOSTESS O Jesu, my lord, my lord-- PRINCE Heigh, heigh, the devil rides upon a fiddlestick. What's the matter? HOSTESS The Sheriff and all the watch are at the door. They are come to search the house. Shall I let them in? FALSTAFF Dost thou hear, Hal? Never call a true piece of gold a counterfeit. Thou art essentially made without seeming so. PRINCE And thou a natural coward without instinct. FALSTAFF I deny your major. If you will deny the Sheriff, so; if not, let him enter. If I become not a cart as well as another man, a plague on my bringing up. I hope I shall as soon be strangled with a halter as another. PRINCE, [standing] Go hide thee behind the arras. The rest walk up above.--Now, my masters, for a true face and good conscience. FALSTAFF Both which I have had, but their date is out; and therefore I'll hide me. [He hides.] PRINCE Call in the Sheriff. [All but the Prince and Peto exit.] [Enter Sheriff and the Carrier.] PRINCE Now, Master Sheriff, what is your will with me? SHERIFF First pardon me, my lord. A hue and cry Hath followed certain men unto this house. PRINCE What men? SHERIFF One of them is well known, my gracious lord. A gross fat man. CARRIER As fat as butter. PRINCE The man I do assure you is not here, For I myself at this time have employed him. And, sheriff, I will engage my word to thee That I will by tomorrow dinner time Send him to answer thee or any man For anything he shall be charged withal. And so let me entreat you leave the house. SHERIFF I will, my lord. There are two gentlemen Have in this robbery lost three hundred marks. PRINCE It may be so. If he have robbed these men, He shall be answerable; and so farewell. SHERIFF Good night, my noble lord. PRINCE I think it is good morrow, is it not? SHERIFF Indeed, my lord, I think it be two o'clock. [He exits with the Carrier.] PRINCE This oily rascal is known as well as Paul's. Go call him forth. PETO Falstaff!--Fast asleep behind the arras, and snorting like a horse. PRINCE Hark, how hard he fetches breath. Search his pockets. [(He searcheth his pocket, and findeth certain papers.)] What hast thou found? PETO Nothing but papers, my lord. PRINCE Let's see what they be. Read them. PETO [reads] Item, a capon,...2s. 2d. Item, sauce,...4d. Item, sack, two gallons,...5s. 8d. Item, anchovies and sack after supper,...2s. 6d. Item, bread,...ob. PRINCE O monstrous! But one halfpennyworth of bread to this intolerable deal of sack? What there is else, keep close. We'll read it at more advantage. There let him sleep till day. I'll to the court in the morning. We must all to the wars, and thy place shall be honorable. I'll procure this fat rogue a charge of foot, and I know his death will be a march of twelve score. The money shall be paid back again with advantage. Be with me betimes in the morning, and so good morrow, Peto. PETO Good morrow, good my lord. [They exit.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Lord Mortimer, and Owen Glendower.] MORTIMER These promises are fair, the parties sure, And our induction full of prosperous hope. HOTSPUR Lord Mortimer and cousin Glendower, Will you sit down? And uncle Worcester-- A plague upon it, I have forgot the map. GLENDOWER No, here it is. Sit, cousin Percy, Sit, good cousin Hotspur, for by that name As oft as Lancaster doth speak of you His cheek looks pale, and with a rising sigh He wisheth you in heaven. HOTSPUR And you in hell, As oft as he hears Owen Glendower spoke of. GLENDOWER I cannot blame him. At my nativity The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, Of burning cressets, and at my birth The frame and huge foundation of the Earth Shaked like a coward. HOTSPUR Why, so it would have done At the same season if your mother's cat Had but kittened, though yourself had never been born. GLENDOWER I say the Earth did shake when I was born. HOTSPUR And I say the Earth was not of my mind, If you suppose as fearing you it shook. GLENDOWER The heavens were all on fire; the Earth did tremble. HOTSPUR O, then the Earth shook to see the heavens on fire, And not in fear of your nativity. Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth In strange eruptions; oft the teeming Earth Is with a kind of colic pinched and vexed By the imprisoning of unruly wind Within her womb, which, for enlargement striving, Shakes the old beldam Earth and topples down Steeples and moss-grown towers. At your birth Our grandam Earth, having this distemp'rature, In passion shook. GLENDOWER Cousin, of many men I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave To tell you once again that at my birth The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields. These signs have marked me extraordinary, And all the courses of my life do show I am not in the roll of common men. Where is he living, clipped in with the sea That chides the banks of England, Scotland, Wales, Which calls me pupil or hath read to me? And bring him out that is but woman's son Can trace me in the tedious ways of art And hold me pace in deep experiments. HOTSPUR I think there's no man speaks better Welsh. I'll to dinner. MORTIMER Peace, cousin Percy. You will make him mad. GLENDOWER I can call spirits from the vasty deep. HOTSPUR Why, so can I, or so can any man, But will they come when you do call for them? GLENDOWER Why, I can teach you, cousin, to command the devil. HOTSPUR And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the devil By telling truth. Tell truth and shame the devil. If thou have power to raise him, bring him hither, And I'll be sworn I have power to shame him hence. O, while you live, tell truth and shame the devil! MORTIMER Come, come, no more of this unprofitable chat. GLENDOWER Three times hath Henry Bolingbroke made head Against my power; thrice from the banks of Wye And sandy-bottomed Severn have I sent him Bootless home and weather-beaten back. HOTSPUR Home without boots, and in foul weather too! How 'scapes he agues, in the devil's name? GLENDOWER Come, here is the map. Shall we divide our right According to our threefold order ta'en? MORTIMER The Archdeacon hath divided it Into three limits very equally: England, from Trent and Severn hitherto, By south and east is to my part assigned; All westward, Wales beyond the Severn shore, And all the fertile land within that bound To Owen Glendower; and, dear coz, to you The remnant northward lying off from Trent. And our indentures tripartite are drawn, Which being sealed interchangeably-- A business that this night may execute-- Tomorrow, cousin Percy, you and I And my good Lord of Worcester will set forth To meet your father and the Scottish power, As is appointed us, at Shrewsbury. My father Glendower is not ready yet, Nor shall we need his help these fourteen days. [To Glendower.] Within that space you may have drawn together Your tenants, friends, and neighboring gentlemen. GLENDOWER A shorter time shall send me to you, lords, And in my conduct shall your ladies come, From whom you now must steal and take no leave, For there will be a world of water shed Upon the parting of your wives and you. HOTSPUR, [looking at the map] Methinks my moiety, north from Burton here, In quantity equals not one of yours. See how this river comes me cranking in And cuts me from the best of all my land A huge half-moon, a monstrous cantle out. I'll have the current in this place dammed up, And here the smug and silver Trent shall run In a new channel, fair and evenly. It shall not wind with such a deep indent To rob me of so rich a bottom here. GLENDOWER Not wind? It shall, it must. You see it doth. MORTIMER, [to Hotspur] Yea, but mark how he bears his course, and runs me up With like advantage on the other side, Gelding the opposed continent as much As on the other side it takes from you. WORCESTER Yea, but a little charge will trench him here And on this north side win this cape of land, And then he runs straight and even. HOTSPUR I'll have it so. A little charge will do it. GLENDOWER I'll not have it altered. HOTSPUR Will not you? GLENDOWER No, nor you shall not. HOTSPUR Who shall say me nay? GLENDOWER Why, that will I. HOTSPUR Let me not understand you, then; speak it in Welsh. GLENDOWER I can speak English, lord, as well as you, For I was trained up in the English court, Where being but young I framed to the harp Many an English ditty lovely well And gave the tongue a helpful ornament-- A virtue that was never seen in you. HOTSPUR Marry, and I am glad of it with all my heart. I had rather be a kitten and cry "mew" Than one of these same meter balladmongers. I had rather hear a brazen can'stick turned, Or a dry wheel grate on the axletree, And that would set my teeth nothing an edge, Nothing so much as mincing poetry. 'Tis like the forced gait of a shuffling nag. GLENDOWER Come, you shall have Trent turned. HOTSPUR I do not care. I'll give thrice so much land To any well-deserving friend; But in the way of bargain, mark you me, I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair. Are the indentures drawn? Shall we be gone? GLENDOWER The moon shines fair. You may away by night. I'll haste the writer, and withal Break with your wives of your departure hence. I am afraid my daughter will run mad, So much she doteth on her Mortimer. [He exits.] MORTIMER Fie, cousin Percy, how you cross my father! HOTSPUR I cannot choose. Sometime he angers me With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant, Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies, And of a dragon and a finless fish, A clip-winged griffin and a moulten raven, A couching lion and a ramping cat, And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff As puts me from my faith. I tell you what-- He held me last night at least nine hours In reckoning up the several devils' names That were his lackeys. I cried "Hum," and "Well, go to," But marked him not a word. O, he is as tedious As a tired horse, a railing wife, Worse than a smoky house. I had rather live With cheese and garlic in a windmill, far, Than feed on cates and have him talk to me In any summer house in Christendom. MORTIMER In faith, he is a worthy gentleman, Exceedingly well read and profited In strange concealments, valiant as a lion, And wondrous affable, and as bountiful As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin? He holds your temper in a high respect And curbs himself even of his natural scope When you come cross his humor. Faith, he does. I warrant you that man is not alive Might so have tempted him as you have done Without the taste of danger and reproof. But do not use it oft, let me entreat you. WORCESTER, [to Hotspur] In faith, my lord, you are too willful-blame, And, since your coming hither, have done enough To put him quite besides his patience. You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault. Though sometimes it show greatness, courage, blood-- And that's the dearest grace it renders you-- Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage, Defect of manners, want of government, Pride, haughtiness, opinion, and disdain, The least of which, haunting a nobleman, Loseth men's hearts and leaves behind a stain Upon the beauty of all parts besides, Beguiling them of commendation. HOTSPUR Well, I am schooled. Good manners be your speed! Here come our wives, and let us take our leave. [Enter Glendower with the Ladies.] MORTIMER This is the deadly spite that angers me: My wife can speak no English, I no Welsh. GLENDOWER My daughter weeps; she'll not part with you. She'll be a soldier too, she'll to the wars. MORTIMER Good father, tell her that she and my aunt Percy Shall follow in your conduct speedily. [Glendower speaks to her in Welsh, and she answers him in the same.] GLENDOWER She is desperate here, a peevish self-willed harlotry, One that no persuasion can do good upon. [The Lady speaks in Welsh.] MORTIMER I understand thy looks. That pretty Welsh Which thou pourest down from these swelling heavens I am too perfect in, and but for shame In such a parley should I answer thee. [The Lady speaks again in Welsh. They kiss.] I understand thy kisses, and thou mine, And that's a feeling disputation; But I will never be a truant, love, Till I have learned thy language; for thy tongue Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penned, Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower, With ravishing division, to her lute. GLENDOWER Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad. [The Lady speaks again in Welsh.] MORTIMER O, I am ignorance itself in this! GLENDOWER She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you down And rest your gentle head upon her lap, And she will sing the song that pleaseth you, And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep, Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness, Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep As is the difference betwixt day and night The hour before the heavenly harnessed team Begins his golden progress in the east. MORTIMER With all my heart I'll sit and hear her sing. By that time will our book, I think, be drawn. GLENDOWER Do so, and those musicians that shall play to you Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence, And straight they shall be here. Sit and attend. HOTSPUR Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down. Come, quick, quick, that I may lay my head in thy lap. LADY PERCY Go, you giddy goose. [The music plays.] HOTSPUR Now I perceive the devil understands Welsh, And 'tis no marvel he is so humorous. By 'r Lady, he is a good musician. LADY PERCY Then should you be nothing but musical, for you are altogether governed by humors. Lie still, you thief, and hear the lady sing in Welsh. HOTSPUR I had rather hear Lady, my brach, howl in Irish. LADY PERCY Wouldst thou have thy head broken? HOTSPUR No. LADY PERCY Then be still. HOTSPUR Neither; 'tis a woman's fault. LADY PERCY Now God help thee! HOTSPUR To the Welsh lady's bed. LADY PERCY What's that? HOTSPUR Peace, she sings. [Here the Lady sings a Welsh song.] HOTSPUR Come, Kate, I'll have your song too. LADY PERCY Not mine, in good sooth. HOTSPUR Not yours, in good sooth! Heart, you swear like a comfit-maker's wife! "Not you, in good sooth," and "as true as I live," and "as God shall mend me," and "as sure as day"-- And givest such sarcenet surety for thy oaths As if thou never walk'st further than Finsbury. Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art, A good mouth-filling oath, and leave "in sooth," And such protest of pepper-gingerbread To velvet-guards and Sunday citizens. Come, sing. LADY PERCY I will not sing. HOTSPUR 'Tis the next way to turn tailor, or be redbreast teacher. An the indentures be drawn, I'll away within these two hours, and so come in when you will. [He exits.] GLENDOWER Come, come, Lord Mortimer, you are as slow As hot Lord Percy is on fire to go. By this our book is drawn. We'll but seal, And then to horse immediately. MORTIMER With all my heart. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter the King, Prince of Wales, and others.] KING Lords, give us leave; the Prince of Wales and I Must have some private conference, but be near at hand, For we shall presently have need of you. [Lords exit.] I know not whether God will have it so For some displeasing service I have done, That, in His secret doom, out of my blood He'll breed revengement and a scourge for me. But thou dost in thy passages of life Make me believe that thou art only marked For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven To punish my mistreadings. Tell me else, Could such inordinate and low desires, Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean attempts, Such barren pleasures, rude society As thou art matched withal, and grafted to, Accompany the greatness of thy blood, And hold their level with thy princely heart? PRINCE So please your Majesty, I would I could Quit all offenses with as clear excuse As well as I am doubtless I can purge Myself of many I am charged withal. Yet such extenuation let me beg As, in reproof of many tales devised, Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear, By smiling pickthanks and base newsmongers, I may for some things true, wherein my youth Hath faulty wandered and irregular, Find pardon on my true submission. KING God pardon thee. Yet let me wonder, Harry, At thy affections, which do hold a wing Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors. Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost, Which by thy younger brother is supplied, And art almost an alien to the hearts Of all the court and princes of my blood. The hope and expectation of thy time Is ruined, and the soul of every man Prophetically do forethink thy fall. Had I so lavish of my presence been, So common-hackneyed in the eyes of men, So stale and cheap to vulgar company, Opinion, that did help me to the crown, Had still kept loyal to possession And left me in reputeless banishment, A fellow of no mark nor likelihood. By being seldom seen, I could not stir But like a comet I was wondered at, That men would tell their children "This is he." Others would say "Where? Which is Bolingbroke?" And then I stole all courtesy from heaven, And dressed myself in such humility That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts, Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths, Even in the presence of the crowned king. Thus did I keep my person fresh and new, My presence, like a robe pontifical, Ne'er seen but wondered at, and so my state, Seldom but sumptuous, showed like a feast And won by rareness such solemnity. The skipping king, he ambled up and down With shallow jesters and rash bavin wits, Soon kindled and soon burnt; carded his state, Mingled his royalty with cap'ring fools, Had his great name profaned with their scorns, And gave his countenance, against his name, To laugh at gibing boys and stand the push Of every beardless vain comparative; Grew a companion to the common streets, Enfeoffed himself to popularity, That, being daily swallowed by men's eyes, They surfeited with honey and began To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little More than a little is by much too much. So, when he had occasion to be seen, He was but as the cuckoo is in June, Heard, not regarded; seen, but with such eyes As, sick and blunted with community, Afford no extraordinary gaze Such as is bent on sunlike majesty When it shines seldom in admiring eyes, But rather drowsed and hung their eyelids down, Slept in his face, and rendered such aspect As cloudy men use to their adversaries, Being with his presence glutted, gorged, and full. And in that very line, Harry, standest thou, For thou hast lost thy princely privilege With vile participation. Not an eye But is aweary of thy common sight, Save mine, which hath desired to see thee more, Which now doth that I would not have it do, Make blind itself with foolish tenderness. PRINCE I shall hereafter, my thrice gracious lord, Be more myself. KING For all the world As thou art to this hour was Richard then When I from France set foot at Ravenspurgh, And even as I was then is Percy now. Now, by my scepter, and my soul to boot, He hath more worthy interest to the state Than thou, the shadow of succession. For of no right, nor color like to right, He doth fill fields with harness in the realm, Turns head against the lion's armed jaws, And, being no more in debt to years than thou, Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on To bloody battles and to bruising arms. What never-dying honor hath he got Against renowned Douglas, whose high deeds, Whose hot incursions and great name in arms, Holds from all soldiers chief majority And military title capital Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ. Thrice hath this Hotspur, Mars in swaddling clothes, This infant warrior, in his enterprises Discomfited great Douglas, ta'en him once, Enlarged him, and made a friend of him, To fill the mouth of deep defiance up And shake the peace and safety of our throne. And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland, The Archbishop's Grace of York, Douglas, Mortimer, Capitulate against us and are up. But wherefore do I tell these news to thee? Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes, Which art my nearest and dearest enemy? Thou that art like enough, through vassal fear, Base inclination, and the start of spleen, To fight against me under Percy's pay, To dog his heels, and curtsy at his frowns, To show how much thou art degenerate. PRINCE Do not think so. You shall not find it so. And God forgive them that so much have swayed Your Majesty's good thoughts away from me. I will redeem all this on Percy's head, And, in the closing of some glorious day, Be bold to tell you that I am your son, When I will wear a garment all of blood And stain my favors in a bloody mask, Which, washed away, shall scour my shame with it. And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights, That this same child of honor and renown, This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight, And your unthought-of Harry chance to meet. For every honor sitting on his helm, Would they were multitudes, and on my head My shames redoubled! For the time will come That I shall make this northern youth exchange His glorious deeds for my indignities. Percy is but my factor, good my lord, To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf. And I will call him to so strict account That he shall render every glory up, Yea, even the slightest worship of his time, Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart. This in the name of God I promise here, The which if He be pleased I shall perform, I do beseech your Majesty may salve The long-grown wounds of my intemperance. If not, the end of life cancels all bands, And I will die a hundred thousand deaths Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow. KING A hundred thousand rebels die in this. Thou shalt have charge and sovereign trust herein. [Enter Blunt.] How now, good Blunt? Thy looks are full of speed. BLUNT So hath the business that I come to speak of. Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word That Douglas and the English rebels met The eleventh of this month at Shrewsbury. A mighty and a fearful head they are, If promises be kept on every hand, As ever offered foul play in a state. KING The Earl of Westmoreland set forth today, With him my son, Lord John of Lancaster, For this advertisement is five days old.-- On Wednesday next, Harry, you shall set forward. On Thursday we ourselves will march. Our meeting Is Bridgenorth. And, Harry, you shall march Through Gloucestershire; by which account, Our business valued, some twelve days hence Our general forces at Bridgenorth shall meet. Our hands are full of business. Let's away. Advantage feeds him fat while men delay. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Falstaff and Bardolph.] FALSTAFF Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely since this last action? Do I not bate? Do I not dwindle? Why, my skin hangs about me like an old lady's loose gown. I am withered like an old applejohn. Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking. I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall have no strength to repent. An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I am a peppercorn, a brewer's horse. The inside of a church! Company, villainous company, hath been the spoil of me. BARDOLPH Sir John, you are so fretful you cannot live long. FALSTAFF Why, there is it. Come, sing me a bawdy song, make me merry. I was as virtuously given as a gentleman need to be, virtuous enough: swore little; diced not above seven times--a week; went to a bawdy house not above once in a quarter--of an hour; paid money that I borrowed--three or four times; lived well and in good compass; and now I live out of all order, out of all compass. BARDOLPH Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you must needs be out of all compass, out of all reasonable compass, Sir John. FALSTAFF Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life. Thou art our admiral, thou bearest the lantern in the poop, but 'tis in the nose of thee. Thou art the Knight of the Burning Lamp. BARDOLPH Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm. FALSTAFF No, I'll be sworn, I make as good use of it as many a man doth of a death's-head or a memento mori. I never see thy face but I think upon hellfire and Dives that lived in purple, for there he is in his robes, burning, burning. If thou wert any way given to virtue, I would swear by thy face. My oath should be "By this fire, that's God's angel." But thou art altogether given over, and wert indeed, but for the light in thy face, the son of utter darkness. When thou ran'st up Gad's Hill in the night to catch my horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an ignis fatuus, or a ball of wildfire, there's no purchase in money. O, thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlasting bonfire-light. Thou hast saved me a thousand marks in links and torches, walking with thee in the night betwixt tavern and tavern, but the sack that thou hast drunk me would have bought me lights as good cheap at the dearest chandler's in Europe. I have maintained that salamander of yours with fire any time this two-and-thirty years, God reward me for it. BARDOLPH 'Sblood, I would my face were in your belly! FALSTAFF Godamercy, so should I be sure to be heartburned! [Enter Hostess.] How now, Dame Partlet the hen, have you enquired yet who picked my pocket? HOSTESS Why, Sir John, what do you think, Sir John, do you think I keep thieves in my house? I have searched, I have enquired, so has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, servant by servant. The tithe of a hair was never lost in my house before. FALSTAFF You lie, hostess. Bardolph was shaved and lost many a hair, and I'll be sworn my pocket was picked. Go to, you are a woman, go. HOSTESS Who, I? No, I defy thee! God's light, I was never called so in mine own house before. FALSTAFF Go to, I know you well enough. HOSTESS No, Sir John, you do not know me, Sir John. I know you, Sir John. You owe me money, Sir John, and now you pick a quarrel to beguile me of it. I bought you a dozen of shirts to your back. FALSTAFF Dowlas, filthy dowlas. I have given them away to bakers' wives; they have made bolters of them. HOSTESS Now, as I am a true woman, holland of eight shillings an ell. You owe money here besides, Sir John, for your diet and by-drinkings and money lent you, four-and-twenty pound. FALSTAFF, [pointing to Bardolph] He had his part of it. Let him pay. HOSTESS He? Alas, he is poor. He hath nothing. FALSTAFF How, poor? Look upon his face. What call you rich? Let them coin his nose. Let them coin his cheeks. I'll not pay a denier. What, will you make a younker of me? Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn but I shall have my pocket picked? I have lost a seal ring of my grandfather's worth forty mark. HOSTESS, [to Bardolph] O Jesu, I have heard the Prince tell him, I know not how oft, that that ring was copper. FALSTAFF How? The Prince is a jack, a sneak-up. 'Sblood, an he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog if he would say so. [Enter the Prince marching, with Peto, and Falstaff meets him playing upon his truncheon like a fife.] How now, lad, is the wind in that door, i' faith? Must we all march? BARDOLPH Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion. HOSTESS, [to Prince] My lord, I pray you, hear me. PRINCE What say'st thou, Mistress Quickly? How doth thy husband? I love him well; he is an honest man. HOSTESS Good my lord, hear me. FALSTAFF Prithee, let her alone, and list to me. PRINCE What say'st thou, Jack? FALSTAFF The other night I fell asleep here, behind the arras, and had my pocket picked. This house is turned bawdy house; they pick pockets. PRINCE What didst thou lose, Jack? FALSTAFF Wilt thou believe me, Hal, three or four bonds of forty pound apiece, and a seal ring of my grandfather's. PRINCE A trifle, some eightpenny matter. HOSTESS So I told him, my lord, and I said I heard your Grace say so. And, my lord, he speaks most vilely of you, like a foul-mouthed man, as he is, and said he would cudgel you. PRINCE What, he did not! HOSTESS There's neither faith, truth, nor womanhood in me else. FALSTAFF There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune, nor no more truth in thee than in a drawn fox, and for womanhood, Maid Marian may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, go. HOSTESS Say, what thing, what thing? FALSTAFF What thing? Why, a thing to thank God on. HOSTESS I am no thing to thank God on, I would thou shouldst know it! I am an honest man's wife, and, setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave to call me so. FALSTAFF Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say otherwise. HOSTESS Say, what beast, thou knave, thou? FALSTAFF What beast? Why, an otter. PRINCE An otter, Sir John. Why an otter? FALSTAFF Why, she's neither fish nor flesh; a man knows not where to have her. HOSTESS Thou art an unjust man in saying so. Thou or any man knows where to have me, thou knave, thou. PRINCE Thou sayst true, hostess, and he slanders thee most grossly. HOSTESS So he doth you, my lord, and said this other day you owed him a thousand pound. PRINCE Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound? FALSTAFF A thousand pound, Hal? A million. Thy love is worth a million; thou owest me thy love. HOSTESS Nay, my lord, he called you "jack," and said he would cudgel you. FALSTAFF Did I, Bardolph? BARDOLPH Indeed, Sir John, you said so. FALSTAFF Yea, if he said my ring was copper. PRINCE I say 'tis copper. Darest thou be as good as thy word now? FALSTAFF Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but man, I dare, but as thou art prince, I fear thee as I fear the roaring of the lion's whelp. PRINCE And why not as the lion? FALSTAFF The King himself is to be feared as the lion. Dost thou think I'll fear thee as I fear thy father? Nay, an I do, I pray God my girdle break. PRINCE O, if it should, how would thy guts fall about thy knees! But, sirrah, there's no room for faith, truth, nor honesty in this bosom of thine. It is all filled up with guts and midriff. Charge an honest woman with picking thy pocket? Why, thou whoreson, impudent, embossed rascal, if there were anything in thy pocket but tavern reckonings, memorandums of bawdy houses, and one poor pennyworth of sugar candy to make thee long-winded, if thy pocket were enriched with any other injuries but these, I am a villain. And yet you will stand to it! You will not pocket up wrong! Art thou not ashamed? FALSTAFF Dost thou hear, Hal? Thou knowest in the state of innocency Adam fell, and what should poor Jack Falstaff do in the days of villainy? Thou seest I have more flesh than another man and therefore more frailty. You confess, then, you picked my pocket. PRINCE It appears so by the story. FALSTAFF Hostess, I forgive thee. Go make ready breakfast, love thy husband, look to thy servants, cherish thy guests. Thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason. Thou seest I am pacified still. Nay, prithee, begone. [(Hostess exits.)] Now, Hal, to the news at court. For the robbery, lad, how is that answered? PRINCE O, my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to thee. The money is paid back again. FALSTAFF O, I do not like that paying back. 'Tis a double labor. PRINCE I am good friends with my father and may do anything. FALSTAFF Rob me the Exchequer the first thing thou dost, and do it with unwashed hands too. BARDOLPH Do, my lord. PRINCE I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of foot. FALSTAFF I would it had been of horse. Where shall I find one that can steal well? O, for a fine thief of the age of two-and-twenty or thereabouts! I am heinously unprovided. Well, God be thanked for these rebels. They offend none but the virtuous. I laud them; I praise them. PRINCE Bardolph. BARDOLPH My lord. PRINCE, [handing Bardolph papers] Go, bear this letter to Lord John of Lancaster, To my brother John; this to my Lord of Westmoreland. [Bardolph exits.] Go, Peto, to horse, to horse, for thou and I Have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner time. [Peto exits.] Jack, meet me tomorrow in the Temple hall At two o'clock in the afternoon; There shalt thou know thy charge, and there receive Money and order for their furniture. The land is burning. Percy stands on high, And either we or they must lower lie. [He exits.] FALSTAFF Rare words, brave world!--Hostess, my breakfast, come.-- O, I could wish this tavern were my drum. [He exits.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Hotspur, Worcester, and Douglas.] HOTSPUR Well said, my noble Scot. If speaking truth In this fine age were not thought flattery, Such attribution should the Douglas have As not a soldier of this season's stamp Should go so general current through the world. By God, I cannot flatter. I do defy The tongues of soothers. But a braver place In my heart's love hath no man than yourself. Nay, task me to my word; approve me, lord. DOUGLAS Thou art the king of honor. No man so potent breathes upon the ground But I will beard him. HOTSPUR Do so, and 'tis well. [Enter a Messenger with letters.] What letters hast thou there? [To Douglas.] I can but thank you. MESSENGER These letters come from your father. HOTSPUR Letters from him! Why comes he not himself? MESSENGER He cannot come, my lord. He is grievous sick. HOTSPUR Zounds, how has he the leisure to be sick In such a justling time? Who leads his power? Under whose government come they along? MESSENGER, [handing letter to Hotspur, who begins reading it] His letters bears his mind, not I, my lord. WORCESTER I prithee, tell me, doth he keep his bed? MESSENGER He did, my lord, four days ere I set forth, And, at the time of my departure thence, He was much feared by his physicians. WORCESTER I would the state of time had first been whole Ere he by sickness had been visited. His health was never better worth than now. HOTSPUR Sick now? Droop now? This sickness doth infect The very lifeblood of our enterprise. 'Tis catching hither, even to our camp. He writes me here that inward sickness-- And that his friends by deputation Could not so soon be drawn, nor did he think it meet To lay so dangerous and dear a trust On any soul removed but on his own; Yet doth he give us bold advertisement That with our small conjunction we should on To see how fortune is disposed to us, For, as he writes, there is no quailing now, Because the King is certainly possessed Of all our purposes. What say you to it? WORCESTER Your father's sickness is a maim to us. HOTSPUR A perilous gash, a very limb lopped off! And yet, in faith, it is not. His present want Seems more than we shall find it. Were it good To set the exact wealth of all our states All at one cast? To set so rich a main On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour? It were not good, for therein should we read The very bottom and the soul of hope, The very list, the very utmost bound Of all our fortunes. DOUGLAS Faith, and so we should, where now remains A sweet reversion. We may boldly spend Upon the hope of what is to come in. A comfort of retirement lives in this. HOTSPUR A rendezvous, a home to fly unto, If that the devil and mischance look big Upon the maidenhead of our affairs. WORCESTER But yet I would your father had been here. The quality and hair of our attempt Brooks no division. It will be thought By some that know not why he is away That wisdom, loyalty, and mere dislike Of our proceedings kept the Earl from hence. And think how such an apprehension May turn the tide of fearful faction And breed a kind of question in our cause. For well you know, we of the off'ring side Must keep aloof from strict arbitrament, And stop all sight-holes, every loop from whence The eye of reason may pry in upon us. This absence of your father's draws a curtain That shows the ignorant a kind of fear Before not dreamt of. HOTSPUR You strain too far. I rather of his absence make this use: It lends a luster and more great opinion, A larger dare, to our great enterprise Than if the Earl were here, for men must think If we without his help can make a head To push against a kingdom, with his help We shall o'erturn it topsy-turvy down. Yet all goes well; yet all our joints are whole. DOUGLAS As heart can think. There is not such a word Spoke of in Scotland as this term of fear. [Enter Sir Richard Vernon.] HOTSPUR My cousin Vernon, welcome, by my soul. VERNON Pray God my news be worth a welcome, lord. The Earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong, Is marching hitherwards, with him Prince John. HOTSPUR No harm, what more? VERNON And further I have learned The King himself in person is set forth, Or hitherwards intended speedily, With strong and mighty preparation. HOTSPUR He shall be welcome too. Where is his son, The nimble-footed madcap Prince of Wales, And his comrades, that daffed the world aside And bid it pass? VERNON All furnished, all in arms, All plumed like estridges that with the wind Bated like eagles having lately bathed, Glittering in golden coats like images, As full of spirit as the month of May, And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer, Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls. I saw young Harry with his beaver on, His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly armed, Rise from the ground like feathered Mercury And vaulted with such ease into his seat As if an angel dropped down from the clouds, To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus And witch the world with noble horsemanship. HOTSPUR No more, no more! Worse than the sun in March This praise doth nourish agues. Let them come. They come like sacrifices in their trim, And to the fire-eyed maid of smoky war All hot and bleeding will we offer them. The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh And yet not ours. Come, let me taste my horse, Who is to bear me like a thunderbolt Against the bosom of the Prince of Wales. Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse, Meet and ne'er part till one drop down a corse. O, that Glendower were come! VERNON There is more news. I learned in Worcester, as I rode along, He cannot draw his power this fourteen days. DOUGLAS That's the worst tidings that I hear of yet. WORCESTER Ay, by my faith, that bears a frosty sound. HOTSPUR What may the King's whole battle reach unto? VERNON To thirty thousand. HOTSPUR Forty let it be. My father and Glendower being both away, The powers of us may serve so great a day. Come, let us take a muster speedily. Doomsday is near. Die all, die merrily. DOUGLAS Talk not of dying. I am out of fear Of death or death's hand for this one half year. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Falstaff and Bardolph.] FALSTAFF Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry. Fill me a bottle of sack. Our soldiers shall march through. We'll to Sutton Coldfield tonight. BARDOLPH Will you give me money, captain? FALSTAFF Lay out, lay out. BARDOLPH This bottle makes an angel. FALSTAFF An if it do, take it for thy labor. An if it make twenty, take them all. I'll answer the coinage. Bid my lieutenant Peto meet me at town's end. BARDOLPH I will, captain. Farewell. [He exits.] FALSTAFF If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a soused gurnet. I have misused the King's press damnably. I have got, in exchange of a hundred and fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. I press me none but good householders, yeomen's sons, inquire me out contracted bachelors, such as had been asked twice on the banns--such a commodity of warm slaves as had as lief hear the devil as a drum, such as fear the report of a caliver worse than a struck fowl or a hurt wild duck. I pressed me none but such toasts-and-butter, with hearts in their bellies no bigger than pins' heads, and they have bought out their services, and now my whole charge consists of ancients, corporals, lieutenants, gentlemen of companies--slaves as ragged as Lazarus in the painted cloth, where the glutton's dogs licked his sores; and such as indeed were never soldiers, but discarded, unjust servingmen, younger sons to younger brothers, revolted tapsters, and ostlers tradefallen, the cankers of a calm world and a long peace, ten times more dishonorable-ragged than an old feazed ancient; and such have I to fill up the rooms of them as have bought out their services, that you would think that I had a hundred and fifty tattered prodigals lately come from swine-keeping, from eating draff and husks. A mad fellow met me on the way and told me I had unloaded all the gibbets and pressed the dead bodies. No eye hath seen such scarecrows. I'll not march through Coventry with them, that's flat. Nay, and the villains march wide betwixt the legs as if they had gyves on, for indeed I had the most of them out of prison. There's not a shirt and a half in all my company, and the half shirt is two napkins tacked together and thrown over the shoulders like a herald's coat without sleeves; and the shirt, to say the truth, stolen from my host at Saint Albans or the red-nose innkeeper of Daventry. But that's all one; they'll find linen enough on every hedge. [Enter the Prince and the Lord of Westmoreland.] PRINCE How now, blown Jack? How now, quilt? FALSTAFF What, Hal, how now, mad wag? What a devil dost thou in Warwickshire?--My good Lord of Westmoreland, I cry you mercy. I thought your Honor had already been at Shrewsbury. WESTMORELAND Faith, Sir John, 'tis more than time that I were there and you too, but my powers are there already. The King, I can tell you, looks for us all. We must away all night. FALSTAFF Tut, never fear me. I am as vigilant as a cat to steal cream. PRINCE I think to steal cream indeed, for thy theft hath already made thee butter. But tell me, Jack, whose fellows are these that come after? FALSTAFF Mine, Hal, mine. PRINCE I did never see such pitiful rascals. FALSTAFF Tut, tut, good enough to toss; food for powder, food for powder. They'll fill a pit as well as better. Tush, man, mortal men, mortal men. WESTMORELAND Ay, but, Sir John, methinks they are exceeding poor and bare, too beggarly. FALSTAFF Faith, for their poverty, I know not where they had that, and for their bareness, I am sure they never learned that of me. PRINCE No, I'll be sworn, unless you call three fingers in the ribs bare. But, sirrah, make haste. Percy is already in the field. [He exits.] FALSTAFF What, is the King encamped? WESTMORELAND He is, Sir John. I fear we shall stay too long. [He exits.] FALSTAFF Well, To the latter end of a fray and the beginning of a feast Fits a dull fighter and a keen guest. [He exits.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Douglas, and Vernon.] HOTSPUR We'll fight with him tonight. WORCESTER It may not be. DOUGLAS You give him then advantage. VERNON Not a whit. HOTSPUR Why say you so? Looks he not for supply? VERNON So do we. HOTSPUR His is certain; ours is doubtful. WORCESTER Good cousin, be advised. Stir not tonight. VERNON, [to Hotspur] Do not, my lord. DOUGLAS You do not counsel well. You speak it out of fear and cold heart. VERNON Do me no slander, Douglas. By my life (And I dare well maintain it with my life), If well-respected honor bid me on, I hold as little counsel with weak fear As you, my lord, or any Scot that this day lives. Let it be seen tomorrow in the battle Which of us fears. DOUGLAS Yea, or tonight. VERNON Content. HOTSPUR Tonight, say I. VERNON Come, come, it may not be. I wonder much, Being men of such great leading as you are, That you foresee not what impediments Drag back our expedition. Certain horse Of my cousin Vernon's are not yet come up. Your uncle Worcester's horse came but today, And now their pride and mettle is asleep, Their courage with hard labor tame and dull, That not a horse is half the half of himself. HOTSPUR So are the horses of the enemy In general journey-bated and brought low. The better part of ours are full of rest. WORCESTER The number of the King exceedeth ours. For God's sake, cousin, stay till all come in. [The trumpet sounds a parley.] [Enter Sir Walter Blunt.] BLUNT I come with gracious offers from the King, If you vouchsafe me hearing and respect. HOTSPUR Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt, and would to God You were of our determination. Some of us love you well, and even those some Envy your great deservings and good name Because you are not of our quality But stand against us like an enemy. BLUNT And God defend but still I should stand so, So long as out of limit and true rule You stand against anointed majesty. But to my charge. The King hath sent to know The nature of your griefs, and whereupon You conjure from the breast of civil peace Such bold hostility, teaching his duteous land Audacious cruelty. If that the King Have any way your good deserts forgot, Which he confesseth to be manifold, He bids you name your griefs, and with all speed You shall have your desires with interest And pardon absolute for yourself and these Herein misled by your suggestion. HOTSPUR The King is kind, and well we know the King Knows at what time to promise, when to pay. My father and my uncle and myself Did give him that same royalty he wears, And when he was not six-and-twenty strong, Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low, A poor unminded outlaw sneaking home, My father gave him welcome to the shore; And when he heard him swear and vow to God He came but to be Duke of Lancaster, To sue his livery, and beg his peace With tears of innocency and terms of zeal, My father, in kind heart and pity moved, Swore him assistance and performed it too. Now when the lords and barons of the realm Perceived Northumberland did lean to him, The more and less came in with cap and knee, Met him in boroughs, cities, villages, Attended him on bridges, stood in lanes, Laid gifts before him, proffered him their oaths, Gave him their heirs as pages, followed him Even at the heels in golden multitudes. He presently, as greatness knows itself, Steps me a little higher than his vow Made to my father while his blood was poor Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurgh, And now forsooth takes on him to reform Some certain edicts and some strait decrees That lie too heavy on the commonwealth, Cries out upon abuses, seems to weep Over his country's wrongs, and by this face, This seeming brow of justice, did he win The hearts of all that he did angle for, Proceeded further--cut me off the heads Of all the favorites that the absent king In deputation left behind him here When he was personal in the Irish war. BLUNT Tut, I came not to hear this. HOTSPUR Then to the point. In short time after, he deposed the King, Soon after that deprived him of his life And, in the neck of that, tasked the whole state. To make that worse, suffered his kinsman March (Who is, if every owner were well placed, Indeed his king) to be engaged in Wales, There without ransom to lie forfeited, Disgraced me in my happy victories, Sought to entrap me by intelligence, Rated mine uncle from the council board, In rage dismissed my father from the court, Broke oath on oath, committed wrong on wrong, And in conclusion drove us to seek out This head of safety, and withal to pry Into his title, the which we find Too indirect for long continuance. BLUNT Shall I return this answer to the King? HOTSPUR Not so, Sir Walter. We'll withdraw awhile. Go to the King, and let there be impawned Some surety for a safe return again, And in the morning early shall mine uncle Bring him our purposes. And so farewell. BLUNT I would you would accept of grace and love. HOTSPUR And maybe so we shall. BLUNT Pray God you do. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Archbishop of York and Sir Michael.] ARCHBISHOP, [handing papers] Hie, good Sir Michael, bear this sealed brief With winged haste to the Lord Marshal, This to my cousin Scroop, and all the rest To whom they are directed. If you knew How much they do import, you would make haste. SIR MICHAEL My good lord, I guess their tenor. ARCHBISHOP Like enough you do. Tomorrow, good Sir Michael, is a day Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men Must bide the touch. For, sir, at Shrewsbury, As I am truly given to understand, The King with mighty and quick-raised power Meets with Lord Harry. And I fear, Sir Michael, What with the sickness of Northumberland, Whose power was in the first proportion, And what with Owen Glendower's absence thence, Who with them was a rated sinew too And comes not in, o'erruled by prophecies, I fear the power of Percy is too weak To wage an instant trial with the King. SIR MICHAEL Why, my good lord, you need not fear. There is Douglas and Lord Mortimer. ARCHBISHOP No, Mortimer is not there. SIR MICHAEL But there is Mordake, Vernon, Lord Harry Percy, And there is my Lord of Worcester, and a head Of gallant warriors, noble gentlemen. ARCHBISHOP And so there is. But yet the King hath drawn The special head of all the land together: The Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster, The noble Westmoreland, and warlike Blunt, And many more corrivals and dear men Of estimation and command in arms. SIR MICHAEL Doubt not, my lord, they shall be well opposed. ARCHBISHOP I hope no less, yet needful 'tis to fear; And to prevent the worst, Sir Michael, speed. For if Lord Percy thrive not, ere the King Dismiss his power he means to visit us, For he hath heard of our confederacy, And 'tis but wisdom to make strong against him. Therefore make haste. I must go write again To other friends. And so farewell, Sir Michael. [They exit.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter the King, Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster, Sir Walter Blunt, and Falstaff.] KING How bloodily the sun begins to peer Above yon bulky hill. The day looks pale At his distemp'rature. PRINCE The southern wind Doth play the trumpet to his purposes, And by his hollow whistling in the leaves Foretells a tempest and a blust'ring day. KING Then with the losers let it sympathize, For nothing can seem foul to those that win. [The trumpet sounds.] [Enter Worcester and Vernon.] How now, my Lord of Worcester? 'Tis not well That you and I should meet upon such terms As now we meet. You have deceived our trust And made us doff our easy robes of peace To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel. This is not well, my lord; this is not well. What say you to it? Will you again unknit This churlish knot of all-abhorred war And move in that obedient orb again Where you did give a fair and natural light, And be no more an exhaled meteor, A prodigy of fear, and a portent Of broached mischief to the unborn times? WORCESTER Hear me, my liege: For mine own part I could be well content To entertain the lag end of my life With quiet hours. For I protest I have not sought the day of this dislike. KING You have not sought it. How comes it then? FALSTAFF Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it. PRINCE Peace, chewet, peace. WORCESTER It pleased your Majesty to turn your looks Of favor from myself and all our house; And yet I must remember you, my lord, We were the first and dearest of your friends. For you my staff of office did I break In Richard's time, and posted day and night To meet you on the way and kiss your hand When yet you were in place and in account Nothing so strong and fortunate as I. It was myself, my brother, and his son That brought you home and boldly did outdare The dangers of the time. You swore to us, And you did swear that oath at Doncaster, That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state, Nor claim no further than your new-fall'n right, The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster. To this we swore our aid. But in short space It rained down fortune show'ring on your head, And such a flood of greatness fell on you-- What with our help, what with the absent king, What with the injuries of a wanton time, The seeming sufferances that you had borne, And the contrarious winds that held the King So long in his unlucky Irish wars That all in England did repute him dead-- And from this swarm of fair advantages You took occasion to be quickly wooed To gripe the general sway into your hand, Forgot your oath to us at Doncaster; And being fed by us, you used us so As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo's bird, Useth the sparrow--did oppress our nest, Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk That even our love durst not come near your sight For fear of swallowing; but with nimble wing We were enforced for safety sake to fly Out of your sight and raise this present head, Whereby we stand opposed by such means As you yourself have forged against yourself By unkind usage, dangerous countenance, And violation of all faith and troth Sworn to us in your younger enterprise. KING These things indeed you have articulate, Proclaimed at market crosses, read in churches, To face the garment of rebellion With some fine color that may please the eye Of fickle changelings and poor discontents, Which gape and rub the elbow at the news Of hurlyburly innovation. And never yet did insurrection want Such water colors to impaint his cause, Nor moody beggars starving for a time Of pellmell havoc and confusion. PRINCE In both your armies there is many a soul Shall pay full dearly for this encounter If once they join in trial. Tell your nephew, The Prince of Wales doth join with all the world In praise of Henry Percy. By my hopes, This present enterprise set off his head, I do not think a braver gentleman, More active-valiant, or more valiant-young, More daring or more bold, is now alive To grace this latter age with noble deeds. For my part, I may speak it to my shame, I have a truant been to chivalry, And so I hear he doth account me too. Yet this before my father's majesty: I am content that he shall take the odds Of his great name and estimation, And will, to save the blood on either side, Try fortune with him in a single fight. KING And, Prince of Wales, so dare we venture thee, Albeit considerations infinite Do make against it.--No, good Worcester, no. We love our people well, even those we love That are misled upon your cousin's part. And, will they take the offer of our grace, Both he and they and you, yea, every man Shall be my friend again, and I'll be his. So tell your cousin, and bring me word What he will do. But if he will not yield, Rebuke and dread correction wait on us, And they shall do their office. So begone. We will not now be troubled with reply. We offer fair. Take it advisedly. [Worcester exits with Vernon.] PRINCE It will not be accepted, on my life. The Douglas and the Hotspur both together Are confident against the world in arms. KING Hence, therefore, every leader to his charge, For on their answer will we set on them, And God befriend us as our cause is just. [They exit. Prince and Falstaff remain.] FALSTAFF Hal, if thou see me down in the battle and bestride me, so; 'tis a point of friendship. PRINCE Nothing but a colossus can do thee that friendship. Say thy prayers, and farewell. FALSTAFF I would 'twere bedtime, Hal, and all well. PRINCE Why, thou owest God a death. [He exits.] FALSTAFF 'Tis not due yet. I would be loath to pay Him before His day. What need I be so forward with Him that calls not on me? Well, 'tis no matter. Honor pricks me on. Yea, but how if honor prick me off when I come on? How then? Can honor set to a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound? No. Honor hath no skill in surgery, then? No. What is honor? A word. What is in that word "honor"? What is that "honor"? Air. A trim reckoning. Who hath it? He that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. 'Tis insensible, then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it. Therefore, I'll none of it. Honor is a mere scutcheon. And so ends my catechism. [He exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Worcester and Sir Richard Vernon.] WORCESTER O no, my nephew must not know, Sir Richard, The liberal and kind offer of the King. VERNON 'Twere best he did. WORCESTER Then are we all undone. It is not possible, it cannot be The King should keep his word in loving us. He will suspect us still and find a time To punish this offense in other faults. Suspicion all our lives shall be stuck full of eyes, For treason is but trusted like the fox, Who, never so tame, so cherished and locked up, Will have a wild trick of his ancestors. Look how we can, or sad or merrily, Interpretation will misquote our looks, And we shall feed like oxen at a stall, The better cherished still the nearer death. My nephew's trespass may be well forgot; It hath the excuse of youth and heat of blood, And an adopted name of privilege-- A harebrained Hotspur governed by a spleen. All his offenses live upon my head And on his father's. We did train him on, And his corruption being ta'en from us, We as the spring of all shall pay for all. Therefore, good cousin, let not Harry know In any case the offer of the King. VERNON Deliver what you will; I'll say 'tis so. [Enter Hotspur, Douglas, and their army.] Here comes your cousin. HOTSPUR, [to Douglas] My uncle is returned. Deliver up my Lord of Westmoreland.-- Uncle, what news? WORCESTER The King will bid you battle presently. DOUGLAS, [to Hotspur] Defy him by the Lord of Westmoreland. HOTSPUR Lord Douglas, go you and tell him so. DOUGLAS Marry, and shall, and very willingly. [Douglas exits.] WORCESTER There is no seeming mercy in the King. HOTSPUR Did you beg any? God forbid! WORCESTER I told him gently of our grievances, Of his oath-breaking, which he mended thus By now forswearing that he is forsworn. He calls us "rebels," "traitors," and will scourge With haughty arms this hateful name in us. [Enter Douglas.] DOUGLAS Arm, gentlemen, to arms. For I have thrown A brave defiance in King Henry's teeth, And Westmoreland, that was engaged, did bear it, Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on. WORCESTER The Prince of Wales stepped forth before the King, And, nephew, challenged you to single fight. HOTSPUR O, would the quarrel lay upon our heads, And that no man might draw short breath today But I and Harry Monmouth! Tell me, tell me, How showed his tasking? Seemed it in contempt? VERNON No, by my soul. I never in my life Did hear a challenge urged more modestly, Unless a brother should a brother dare To gentle exercise and proof of arms. He gave you all the duties of a man, Trimmed up your praises with a princely tongue, Spoke your deservings like a chronicle, Making you ever better than his praise By still dispraising praise valued with you, And, which became him like a prince indeed, He made a blushing cital of himself, And chid his truant youth with such a grace As if he mastered there a double spirit Of teaching and of learning instantly. There did he pause, but let me tell the world: If he outlive the envy of this day, England did never owe so sweet a hope So much misconstrued in his wantonness. HOTSPUR Cousin, I think thou art enamored On his follies. Never did I hear Of any prince so wild a liberty. But be he as he will, yet once ere night I will embrace him with a soldier's arm That he shall shrink under my courtesy.-- Arm, arm with speed, and, fellows, soldiers, friends, Better consider what you have to do Than I that have not well the gift of tongue Can lift your blood up with persuasion. [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER My lord, here are letters for you. HOTSPUR I cannot read them now.-- O gentlemen, the time of life is short; To spend that shortness basely were too long If life did ride upon a dial's point, Still ending at the arrival of an hour. An if we live, we live to tread on kings; If die, brave death, when princes die with us. Now, for our consciences, the arms are fair When the intent of bearing them is just. [Enter another Messenger.] SECOND MESSENGER My lord, prepare. The King comes on apace. HOTSPUR I thank him that he cuts me from my tale, For I profess not talking. Only this: Let each man do his best. And here draw I a sword, Whose temper I intend to stain With the best blood that I can meet withal In the adventure of this perilous day. Now, Esperance! Percy! And set on. Sound all the lofty instruments of war, And by that music let us all embrace, For, heaven to Earth, some of us never shall A second time do such a courtesy. [Here they embrace. The trumpets sound.] [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [The King enters with his power, crosses the stage and exits. Alarum to the battle. Then enter Douglas, and Sir Walter Blunt, disguised as the King.] BLUNT, [as King] What is thy name that in the battle thus Thou crossest me? What honor dost thou seek Upon my head? DOUGLAS Know then my name is Douglas, And I do haunt thee in the battle thus Because some tell me that thou art a king. BLUNT, [as King] They tell thee true. DOUGLAS The Lord of Stafford dear today hath bought Thy likeness, for instead of thee, King Harry, This sword hath ended him. So shall it thee, Unless thou yield thee as my prisoner. BLUNT, [as King] I was not born a yielder, thou proud Scot, And thou shalt find a king that will revenge Lord Stafford's death. [They fight. Douglas kills Blunt.] [Then enter Hotspur.] HOTSPUR O Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus, I never had triumphed upon a Scot. DOUGLAS All's done, all's won; here breathless lies the King. HOTSPUR Where? DOUGLAS Here. HOTSPUR This, Douglas? No, I know this face full well. A gallant knight he was; his name was Blunt, Semblably furnished like the King himself. DOUGLAS, [addressing Blunt's corpse] A fool go with thy soul whither it goes! A borrowed title hast thou bought too dear. Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a king? HOTSPUR The King hath many marching in his coats. DOUGLAS Now, by my sword, I will kill all his coats. I'll murder all his wardrobe, piece by piece, Until I meet the King. HOTSPUR Up and away! Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day. [They exit.] [Alarm. Enter Falstaff alone.] FALSTAFF Though I could 'scape shot-free at London, I fear the shot here. Here's no scoring but upon the pate.--Soft, who are you? Sir Walter Blunt. There's honor for you. Here's no vanity. I am as hot as molten lead, and as heavy too. God keep lead out of me; I need no more weight than mine own bowels. I have led my ragamuffins where they are peppered. There's not three of my hundred and fifty left alive, and they are for the town's end, to beg during life. But who comes here? [Enter the Prince.] PRINCE What, stand'st thou idle here? Lend me thy sword. Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies, Whose deaths are yet unrevenged. I prithee Lend me thy sword. FALSTAFF O Hal, I prithee give me leave to breathe awhile. Turk Gregory never did such deeds in arms as I have done this day. I have paid Percy; I have made him sure. PRINCE He is indeed, and living to kill thee. I prithee, lend me thy sword. FALSTAFF Nay, before God, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou gett'st not my sword; but take my pistol, if thou wilt. PRINCE Give it me. What, is it in the case? FALSTAFF Ay, Hal, 'tis hot, 'tis hot. There's that will sack a city. [The Prince draws it out, and finds it to be a bottle of sack.] PRINCE What, is it a time to jest and dally now? [He throws the bottle at him and exits.] FALSTAFF Well, if Percy be alive, I'll pierce him. If he do come in my way, so; if he do not, if I come in his willingly, let him make a carbonado of me. I like not such grinning honor as Sir Walter hath. Give me life, which, if I can save, so: if not, honor comes unlooked for, and there's an end. [He exits. Blunt's body is carried off.] Scene 4 ======= [Alarm, excursions. Enter the King, the Prince, Lord John of Lancaster, and the Earl of Westmoreland.] KING I prithee, Harry, withdraw thyself. Thou bleedest too much. Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him. LANCASTER Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too. PRINCE I beseech your Majesty, make up, Lest your retirement do amaze your friends. KING I will do so.--My Lord of Westmoreland, Lead him to his tent. WESTMORELAND Come, my lord, I'll lead you to your tent. PRINCE Lead me, my lord? I do not need your help, And God forbid a shallow scratch should drive The Prince of Wales from such a field as this, Where stained nobility lies trodden on, And rebels' arms triumph in massacres. LANCASTER We breathe too long. Come, cousin Westmoreland, Our duty this way lies. For God's sake, come. [Lancaster and Westmoreland exit.] PRINCE By God, thou hast deceived me, Lancaster. I did not think thee lord of such a spirit. Before, I loved thee as a brother, John, But now I do respect thee as my soul. KING I saw him hold Lord Percy at the point With lustier maintenance than I did look for Of such an ungrown warrior. PRINCE O, this boy lends mettle to us all. [He exits.] [Enter Douglas.] DOUGLAS Another king! They grow like Hydra's heads.-- I am the Douglas, fatal to all those That wear those colors on them. What art thou That counterfeit'st the person of a king? KING The King himself, who, Douglas, grieves at heart, So many of his shadows thou hast met And not the very king. I have two boys Seek Percy and thyself about the field, But, seeing thou fall'st on me so luckily, I will assay thee. And defend thyself. DOUGLAS I fear thou art another counterfeit, And yet, in faith, thou bearest thee like a king. But mine I am sure thou art, whoe'er thou be, And thus I win thee. [They fight. The King being in danger, enter Prince of Wales.] PRINCE Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or thou art like Never to hold it up again. The spirits Of valiant Shirley, Stafford, Blunt are in my arms. It is the Prince of Wales that threatens thee, Who never promiseth but he means to pay. [They fight. Douglas flieth.] [To King.] Cheerly, my lord. How fares your Grace? Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succor sent, And so hath Clifton. I'll to Clifton straight. KING Stay and breathe awhile. Thou hast redeemed thy lost opinion And showed thou mak'st some tender of my life In this fair rescue thou hast brought to me. PRINCE O God, they did me too much injury That ever said I hearkened for your death. If it were so, I might have let alone The insulting hand of Douglas over you, Which would have been as speedy in your end As all the poisonous potions in the world, And saved the treacherous labor of your son. KING Make up to Clifton. I'll to Sir Nicholas Gawsey. [King exits.] [Enter Hotspur.] HOTSPUR If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth. PRINCE Thou speak'st as if I would deny my name. HOTSPUR My name is Harry Percy. PRINCE Why then I see A very valiant rebel of the name. I am the Prince of Wales; and think not, Percy, To share with me in glory any more. Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere, Nor can one England brook a double reign Of Harry Percy and the Prince of Wales. HOTSPUR Nor shall it, Harry, for the hour is come To end the one of us, and would to God Thy name in arms were now as great as mine. PRINCE I'll make it greater ere I part from thee, And all the budding honors on thy crest I'll crop to make a garland for my head. HOTSPUR I can no longer brook thy vanities. [They fight.] [Enter Falstaff.] FALSTAFF Well said, Hal! To it, Hal! Nay, you shall find no boys' play here, I can tell you. [Enter Douglas. He fighteth with Falstaff, who falls down as if he were dead. Douglas exits. The Prince killeth Percy.] HOTSPUR O Harry, thou hast robbed me of my youth. I better brook the loss of brittle life Than those proud titles thou hast won of me. They wound my thoughts worse than thy sword my flesh. But thoughts, the slaves of life, and life, time's fool, And time, that takes survey of all the world, Must have a stop. O, I could prophesy, But that the earthy and cold hand of death Lies on my tongue. No, Percy, thou art dust, And food for-- [He dies.] PRINCE For worms, brave Percy. Fare thee well, great heart. Ill-weaved ambition, how much art thou shrunk! When that this body did contain a spirit, A kingdom for it was too small a bound, But now two paces of the vilest earth Is room enough. This earth that bears thee dead Bears not alive so stout a gentleman. If thou wert sensible of courtesy, I should not make so dear a show of zeal. But let my favors hide thy mangled face; [He covers Hotspur's face.] And even in thy behalf I'll thank myself For doing these fair rites of tenderness. Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven. Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave, But not remembered in thy epitaph. [He spieth Falstaff on the ground.] What, old acquaintance, could not all this flesh Keep in a little life? Poor Jack, farewell. I could have better spared a better man. O, I should have a heavy miss of thee If I were much in love with vanity. Death hath not struck so fat a deer today, Though many dearer in this bloody fray. Emboweled will I see thee by and by; Till then in blood by noble Percy lie. [He exits.] [Falstaff riseth up.] FALSTAFF Emboweled? If thou embowel me today, I'll give you leave to powder me and eat me too tomorrow. 'Sblood, 'twas time to counterfeit, or that hot termagant Scot had paid me scot and lot too. Counterfeit? I lie. I am no counterfeit. To die is to be a counterfeit, for he is but the counterfeit of a man who hath not the life of a man; but to counterfeit dying when a man thereby liveth is to be no counterfeit, but the true and perfect image of life indeed. The better part of valor is discretion, in the which better part I have saved my life. Zounds, I am afraid of this gunpowder Percy, though he be dead. How if he should counterfeit too, and rise? By my faith, I am afraid he would prove the better counterfeit. Therefore I'll make him sure, yea, and I'll swear I killed him. Why may not he rise as well as I? Nothing confutes me but eyes, and nobody sees me. Therefore, sirrah, [stabbing him] with a new wound in your thigh, come you along with me. [He takes up Hotspur on his back.] [Enter Prince and John of Lancaster.] PRINCE Come, brother John. Full bravely hast thou fleshed Thy maiden sword. LANCASTER But soft, whom have we here? Did you not tell me this fat man was dead? PRINCE I did; I saw him dead, Breathless and bleeding on the ground.--Art thou alive? Or is it fantasy that plays upon our eyesight? I prithee, speak. We will not trust our eyes Without our ears. Thou art not what thou seem'st. FALSTAFF No, that's certain. I am not a double man. But if I be not Jack Falstaff, then am I a jack. There is Percy. If your father will do me any honor, so; if not, let him kill the next Percy himself. I look to be either earl or duke, I can assure you. PRINCE Why, Percy I killed myself, and saw thee dead. FALSTAFF Didst thou? Lord, Lord, how this world is given to lying. I grant you, I was down and out of breath, and so was he, but we rose both at an instant and fought a long hour by Shrewsbury clock. If I may be believed, so; if not, let them that should reward valor bear the sin upon their own heads. I'll take it upon my death, I gave him this wound in the thigh. If the man were alive and would deny it, zounds, I would make him eat a piece of my sword. LANCASTER This is the strangest tale that ever I heard. PRINCE This is the strangest fellow, brother John.-- Come bring your luggage nobly on your back. For my part, if a lie may do thee grace, I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have. [A retreat is sounded.] The trumpet sounds retreat; the day is ours. Come, brother, let us to the highest of the field To see what friends are living, who are dead. [They exit.] FALSTAFF I'll follow, as they say, for reward. He that rewards me, God reward him. If I do grow great, I'll grow less, for I'll purge and leave sack and live cleanly as a nobleman should do. [He exits carrying Hotspur's body.] Scene 5 ======= [The trumpets sound. Enter the King, Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster, Earl of Westmoreland, with Worcester and Vernon prisoners, and Soldiers.] KING Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke.-- Ill-spirited Worcester, did not we send grace, Pardon, and terms of love to all of you? And wouldst thou turn our offers contrary, Misuse the tenor of thy kinsman's trust? Three knights upon our party slain today, A noble earl, and many a creature else Had been alive this hour If, like a Christian, thou hadst truly borne Betwixt our armies true intelligence. WORCESTER What I have done my safety urged me to. And I embrace this fortune patiently, Since not to be avoided it falls on me. KING Bear Worcester to the death, and Vernon too. Other offenders we will pause upon. [Worcester and Vernon exit, under guard.] How goes the field? PRINCE The noble Scot, Lord Douglas, when he saw The fortune of the day quite turned from him, The noble Percy slain, and all his men Upon the foot of fear, fled with the rest, And, falling from a hill, he was so bruised That the pursuers took him. At my tent The Douglas is, and I beseech your Grace I may dispose of him. KING With all my heart. PRINCE Then, brother John of Lancaster, to you This honorable bounty shall belong. Go to the Douglas and deliver him Up to his pleasure, ransomless and free. His valors shown upon our crests today Have taught us how to cherish such high deeds, Even in the bosom of our adversaries. LANCASTER I thank your Grace for this high courtesy, Which I shall give away immediately. KING Then this remains, that we divide our power. You, son John, and my cousin Westmoreland, Towards York shall bend you with your dearest speed To meet Northumberland and the prelate Scroop, Who, as we hear, are busily in arms. Myself and you, son Harry, will towards Wales To fight with Glendower and the Earl of March. Rebellion in this land shall lose his sway, Meeting the check of such another day. And since this business so fair is done, Let us not leave till all our own be won. [They exit.]

Henry IV, Part 2 by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== RUMOR, Presenter of the Induction KING HENRY IV, formerly Henry Bolingbroke PRINCE HAL, Prince of Wales and heir to the throne, later KING HENRY V Younger sons of King Henry IV: JOHN OF LANCASTER THOMAS OF CLARENCE HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND, Henry Percy NORTHUMBERLAND'S WIFE LADY PERCY, widow of Hotspur In rebellion against King Henry IV: Richard Scroop, ARCHBISHOP of York LORD MOWBRAY LORD HASTINGS LORD BARDOLPH TRAVERS MORTON SIR JOHN COLEVILE Supporters of King Henry IV: EARL OF WESTMORELAND EARL OF WARWICK EARL OF SURREY SIR JOHN BLUNT GOWER HARCOURT LORD CHIEF JUSTICE SIR JOHN FALSTAFF POINS BARDOLPH PETO PISTOL FALSTAFF'S PAGE HOSTESS of the tavern (also called Mistress Quickly) DOLL TEARSHEET JUSTICE ROBERT SHALLOW JUSTICE SILENCE DAVY, servant to Shallow Men of Gloucestershire: MOULDY SHADOW WART FEEBLE BULLCALF London officers: FANG SNARE EPILOGUE Drawers, Musicians, Beadles, Grooms, Messenger, Soldiers, Lords, Attendants, Page, Porter, Servants, Officers INDUCTION ========= [Enter Rumor, painted full of tongues.] RUMOR Open your ears, for which of you will stop The vent of hearing when loud Rumor speaks? I, from the orient to the drooping west, Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold The acts commenced on this ball of earth. Upon my tongues continual slanders ride, The which in every language I pronounce, Stuffing the ears of men with false reports. I speak of peace while covert enmity Under the smile of safety wounds the world. And who but Rumor, who but only I, Make fearful musters and prepared defense Whiles the big year, swoll'n with some other grief, Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war, And no such matter? Rumor is a pipe Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures, And of so easy and so plain a stop That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, The still-discordant wav'ring multitude, Can play upon it. But what need I thus My well-known body to anatomize Among my household? Why is Rumor here? I run before King Harry's victory, Who in a bloody field by Shrewsbury Hath beaten down young Hotspur and his troops, Quenching the flame of bold rebellion Even with the rebels' blood. But what mean I To speak so true at first? My office is To noise abroad that Harry Monmouth fell Under the wrath of noble Hotspur's sword, And that the King before the Douglas' rage Stooped his anointed head as low as death. This have I rumored through the peasant towns Between that royal field of Shrewsbury And this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone, Where Hotspur's father, old Northumberland, Lies crafty-sick. The posts come tiring on, And not a man of them brings other news Than they have learnt of me. From Rumor's tongues They bring smooth comforts false, worse than true wrongs. [Rumor exits.] ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter the Lord Bardolph at one door.] LORD BARDOLPH Who keeps the gate here, ho? [Enter the Porter.] Where is the Earl? PORTER What shall I say you are? LORD BARDOLPH Tell thou the Earl That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here. PORTER His Lordship is walked forth into the orchard. Please it your Honor knock but at the gate And he himself will answer. [Enter the Earl Northumberland, his head wrapped in a kerchief and supporting himself with a crutch.] LORD BARDOLPH Here comes the Earl. [Porter exits.] NORTHUMBERLAND What news, Lord Bardolph? Every minute now Should be the father of some stratagem. The times are wild. Contention, like a horse Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose And bears down all before him. LORD BARDOLPH Noble earl, I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury. NORTHUMBERLAND Good, an God will! LORD BARDOLPH As good as heart can wish. The King is almost wounded to the death, And, in the fortune of my lord your son, Prince Harry slain outright; and both the Blunts Killed by the hand of Douglas; young Prince John And Westmoreland and Stafford fled the field; And Harry Monmouth's brawn, the hulk Sir John, Is prisoner to your son. O, such a day, So fought, so followed, and so fairly won, Came not till now to dignify the times Since Caesar's fortunes. NORTHUMBERLAND How is this derived? Saw you the field? Came you from Shrewsbury? LORD BARDOLPH I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence, A gentleman well bred and of good name, That freely rendered me these news for true. [Enter Travers.] NORTHUMBERLAND Here comes my servant Travers, who I sent On Tuesday last to listen after news. LORD BARDOLPH My lord, I overrode him on the way, And he is furnished with no certainties More than he haply may retail from me. NORTHUMBERLAND Now, Travers, what good tidings comes with you? TRAVERS My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turned me back With joyful tidings and, being better horsed, Outrode me. After him came spurring hard A gentleman, almost forspent with speed, That stopped by me to breathe his bloodied horse. He asked the way to Chester, and of him I did demand what news from Shrewsbury. He told me that rebellion had bad luck And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold. With that he gave his able horse the head And, bending forward, struck his armed heels Against the panting sides of his poor jade Up to the rowel-head, and starting so He seemed in running to devour the way, Staying no longer question. NORTHUMBERLAND Ha? Again: Said he young Harry Percy's spur was cold? Of Hotspur, Coldspur? That rebellion Had met ill luck? LORD BARDOLPH My lord, I'll tell you what: If my young lord your son have not the day, Upon mine honor, for a silken point I'll give my barony. Never talk of it. NORTHUMBERLAND Why should that gentleman that rode by Travers Give then such instances of loss? LORD BARDOLPH Who, he? He was some hilding fellow that had stol'n The horse he rode on and, upon my life, Spoke at a venture. [Enter Morton.] Look, here comes more news. NORTHUMBERLAND Yea, this man's brow, like to a title leaf, Foretells the nature of a tragic volume. So looks the strand whereon the imperious flood Hath left a witnessed usurpation.-- Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury? MORTON I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord, Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask To fright our party. NORTHUMBERLAND How doth my son and brother? Thou tremblest, and the whiteness in thy cheek Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand. Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, So dull, so dead in look, so woebegone, Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night And would have told him half his Troy was burnt; But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue, And I my Percy's death ere thou report'st it. This thou wouldst say: "Your son did thus and thus; Your brother thus; so fought the noble Douglas"-- Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds. But in the end, to stop my ear indeed, Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise, Ending with "Brother, son, and all are dead." MORTON Douglas is living, and your brother yet, But for my lord your son-- NORTHUMBERLAND Why, he is dead. See what a ready tongue suspicion hath! He that but fears the thing he would not know Hath, by instinct, knowledge from others' eyes That what he feared is chanced. Yet speak, Morton. Tell thou an earl his divination lies, And I will take it as a sweet disgrace And make thee rich for doing me such wrong. MORTON You are too great to be by me gainsaid, Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain. NORTHUMBERLAND Yet, for all this, say not that Percy's dead. I see a strange confession in thine eye. Thou shak'st thy head and hold'st it fear or sin To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so. The tongue offends not that reports his death; And he doth sin that doth belie the dead, Not he which says the dead is not alive. Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news Hath but a losing office, and his tongue Sounds ever after as a sullen bell Remembered tolling a departing friend. LORD BARDOLPH I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead. MORTON, [to Northumberland] I am sorry I should force you to believe That which I would to God I had not seen, But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state, Rend'ring faint quittance, wearied and outbreathed, To Harry Monmouth, whose swift wrath beat down The never-daunted Percy to the earth, From whence with life he never more sprung up. In few, his death, whose spirit lent a fire Even to the dullest peasant in his camp, Being bruited once, took fire and heat away From the best-tempered courage in his troops; For from his mettle was his party steeled, Which, once in him abated, all the rest Turned on themselves, like dull and heavy lead. And as the thing that's heavy in itself Upon enforcement flies with greatest speed, So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss, Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety, Fly from the field. Then was that noble Worcester So soon ta'en prisoner; and that furious Scot, The bloody Douglas, whose well-laboring sword Had three times slain th' appearance of the King, Gan vail his stomach and did grace the shame Of those that turned their backs and in his flight, Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all Is that the King hath won and hath sent out A speedy power to encounter you, my lord, Under the conduct of young Lancaster And Westmoreland. This is the news at full. NORTHUMBERLAND For this I shall have time enough to mourn. In poison there is physic, and these news, Having been well, that would have made me sick, Being sick, have in some measure made me well. And as the wretch whose fever-weakened joints, Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life, Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire Out of his keeper's arms, even so my limbs, Weakened with grief, being now enraged with grief, Are thrice themselves. Hence therefore, thou nice crutch. [He throws down his crutch.] A scaly gauntlet now with joints of steel Must glove this hand. And hence, thou sickly coif. [He removes his kerchief.] Thou art a guard too wanton for the head Which princes, fleshed with conquest, aim to hit. Now bind my brows with iron, and approach The ragged'st hour that time and spite dare bring To frown upon th' enraged Northumberland. Let heaven kiss Earth! Now let not Nature's hand Keep the wild flood confined. Let order die, And let this world no longer be a stage To feed contention in a lingering act; But let one spirit of the firstborn Cain Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set On bloody courses, the rude scene may end, And darkness be the burier of the dead. LORD BARDOLPH This strained passion doth you wrong, my lord. MORTON Sweet earl, divorce not wisdom from your honor. The lives of all your loving complices Lean on your health, the which, if you give o'er To stormy passion, must perforce decay. You cast th' event of war, my noble lord, And summed the accompt of chance before you said "Let us make head." It was your presurmise That in the dole of blows your son might drop. You knew he walked o'er perils on an edge, More likely to fall in than to get o'er. You were advised his flesh was capable Of wounds and scars, and that his forward spirit Would lift him where most trade of danger ranged. Yet did you say "Go forth," and none of this, Though strongly apprehended, could restrain The stiff-borne action. What hath then befall'n, Or what did this bold enterprise bring forth, More than that being which was like to be? LORD BARDOLPH We all that are engaged to this loss Knew that we ventured on such dangerous seas That if we wrought out life, 'twas ten to one; And yet we ventured, for the gain proposed Choked the respect of likely peril feared; And since we are o'erset, venture again. Come, we will all put forth, body and goods. MORTON 'Tis more than time.--And, my most noble lord, I hear for certain, and dare speak the truth: The gentle Archbishop of York is up With well-appointed powers. He is a man Who with a double surety binds his followers. My lord your son had only but the corpse, But shadows and the shows of men, to fight; For that same word "rebellion" did divide The action of their bodies from their souls, And they did fight with queasiness, constrained, As men drink potions, that their weapons only Seemed on our side. But, for their spirits and souls, This word "rebellion," it had froze them up As fish are in a pond. But now the Bishop Turns insurrection to religion. Supposed sincere and holy in his thoughts, He's followed both with body and with mind, And doth enlarge his rising with the blood Of fair King Richard, scraped from Pomfret stones; Derives from heaven his quarrel and his cause; Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land, Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke; And more and less do flock to follow him. NORTHUMBERLAND I knew of this before, but, to speak truth, This present grief had wiped it from my mind. Go in with me and counsel every man The aptest way for safety and revenge. Get posts and letters, and make friends with speed. Never so few, and never yet more need. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Sir John Falstaff, with his Page bearing his sword and buckler.] FALSTAFF Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to my water? PAGE He said, sir, the water itself was a good healthy water, but, for the party that owed it, he might have more diseases than he knew for. FALSTAFF Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me. The brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not able to invent anything that intends to laughter more than I invent, or is invented on me. I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men. I do here walk before thee like a sow that hath overwhelmed all her litter but one. If the Prince put thee into my service for any other reason than to set me off, why then I have no judgment. Thou whoreson mandrake, thou art fitter to be worn in my cap than to wait at my heels. I was never manned with an agate till now, but I will inset you neither in gold nor silver, but in vile apparel, and send you back again to your master for a jewel. The juvenal, the Prince your master, whose chin is not yet fledge--I will sooner have a beard grow in the palm of my hand than he shall get one off his cheek, and yet he will not stick to say his face is a face royal. God may finish it when He will. 'Tis not a hair amiss yet. He may keep it still at a face royal, for a barber shall never earn sixpence out of it, and yet he'll be crowing as if he had writ man ever since his father was a bachelor. He may keep his own grace, but he's almost out of mine, I can assure him. What said Master Dommelton about the satin for my short cloak and my slops? PAGE He said, sir, you should procure him better assurance than Bardolph. He would not take his band and yours. He liked not the security. FALSTAFF Let him be damned like the glutton! Pray God his tongue be hotter! A whoreson Achitophel, a rascally yea-forsooth knave, to bear a gentleman in hand and then stand upon security! The whoreson smoothy-pates do now wear nothing but high shoes and bunches of keys at their girdles; and if a man is through with them in honest taking up, then they must stand upon security. I had as lief they would put ratsbane in my mouth as offer to stop it with "security." I looked he should have sent me two-and-twenty yards of satin, as I am a true knight, and he sends me "security." Well, he may sleep in security, for he hath the horn of abundance, and the lightness of his wife shines through it, and yet cannot he see though he have his own lantern to light him. Where's Bardolph? PAGE He's gone in Smithfield to buy your Worship a horse. FALSTAFF I bought him in Paul's, and he'll buy me a horse in Smithfield. An I could get me but a wife in the stews, I were manned, horsed, and wived. [Enter Lord Chief Justice and Servant.] PAGE, [to Falstaff] Sir, here comes the nobleman that committed the Prince for striking him about Bardolph. FALSTAFF Wait close. I will not see him. [They begin to exit.] CHIEF JUSTICE, [to Servant] What's he that goes there? SERVANT Falstaff, an 't please your Lordship. CHIEF JUSTICE He that was in question for the robbery? SERVANT He, my lord; but he hath since done good service at Shrewsbury, and, as I hear, is now going with some charge to the Lord John of Lancaster. CHIEF JUSTICE What, to York? Call him back again. SERVANT Sir John Falstaff! FALSTAFF Boy, tell him I am deaf. PAGE You must speak louder. My master is deaf. CHIEF JUSTICE I am sure he is, to the hearing of anything good.--Go pluck him by the elbow. I must speak with him. SERVANT, [plucking Falstaff's sleeve] Sir John! FALSTAFF What, a young knave and begging? Is there not wars? Is there not employment? Doth not the King lack subjects? Do not the rebels need soldiers? Though it be a shame to be on any side but one, it is worse shame to beg than to be on the worst side, were it worse than the name of rebellion can tell how to make it. SERVANT You mistake me, sir. FALSTAFF Why sir, did I say you were an honest man? Setting my knighthood and my soldiership aside, I had lied in my throat if I had said so. SERVANT I pray you, sir, then set your knighthood and your soldiership aside, and give me leave to tell you, you lie in your throat if you say I am any other than an honest man. FALSTAFF I give thee leave to tell me so? I lay aside that which grows to me? If thou gett'st any leave of me, hang me; if thou tak'st leave, thou wert better be hanged. You hunt counter. Hence! Avaunt! SERVANT Sir, my lord would speak with you. CHIEF JUSTICE Sir John Falstaff, a word with you. FALSTAFF My good lord. God give your Lordship good time of the day. I am glad to see your Lordship abroad. I heard say your Lordship was sick. I hope your Lordship goes abroad by advice. Your Lordship, though not clean past your youth, have yet some smack of an ague in you, some relish of the saltness of time in you, and I most humbly beseech your Lordship to have a reverend care of your health. CHIEF JUSTICE Sir John, I sent for you before your expedition to Shrewsbury. FALSTAFF An 't please your Lordship, I hear his Majesty is returned with some discomfort from Wales. CHIEF JUSTICE I talk not of his Majesty. You would not come when I sent for you. FALSTAFF And I hear, moreover, his Highness is fallen into this same whoreson apoplexy. CHIEF JUSTICE Well, God mend him. I pray you let me speak with you. FALSTAFF This apoplexy, as I take it, is a kind of lethargy, an 't please your Lordship, a kind of sleeping in the blood, a whoreson tingling. CHIEF JUSTICE What tell you me of it? Be it as it is. FALSTAFF It hath it original from much grief, from study, and perturbation of the brain. I have read the cause of his effects in Galen. It is a kind of deafness. CHIEF JUSTICE I think you are fallen into the disease, for you hear not what I say to you. FALSTAFF Very well, my lord, very well. Rather, an 't please you, it is the disease of not listening, the malady of not marking, that I am troubled withal. CHIEF JUSTICE To punish you by the heels would amend the attention of your ears, and I care not if I do become your physician. FALSTAFF I am as poor as Job, my lord, but not so patient. Your Lordship may minister the potion of imprisonment to me in respect of poverty, but how I should be your patient to follow your prescriptions, the wise may make some dram of a scruple, or indeed a scruple itself. CHIEF JUSTICE I sent for you, when there were matters against you for your life, to come speak with me. FALSTAFF As I was then advised by my learned counsel in the laws of this land-service, I did not come. CHIEF JUSTICE Well, the truth is, Sir John, you live in great infamy. FALSTAFF He that buckles himself in my belt cannot live in less. CHIEF JUSTICE Your means are very slender, and your waste is great. FALSTAFF I would it were otherwise. I would my means were greater and my waist slender. CHIEF JUSTICE You have misled the youthful prince. FALSTAFF The young prince hath misled me. I am the fellow with the great belly, and he my dog. CHIEF JUSTICE Well, I am loath to gall a new-healed wound. Your day's service at Shrewsbury hath a little gilded over your night's exploit on Gad's Hill. You may thank th' unquiet time for your quiet o'erposting that action. FALSTAFF My lord. CHIEF JUSTICE But since all is well, keep it so. Wake not a sleeping wolf. FALSTAFF To wake a wolf is as bad as to smell a fox. CHIEF JUSTICE What, you are as a candle, the better part burnt out. FALSTAFF A wassail candle, my lord, all tallow. If I did say of wax, my growth would approve the truth. CHIEF JUSTICE There is not a white hair in your face but should have his effect of gravity. FALSTAFF His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy. CHIEF JUSTICE You follow the young prince up and down like his ill angel. FALSTAFF Not so, my lord. Your ill angel is light, but I hope he that looks upon me will take me without weighing. And yet in some respects I grant I cannot go. I cannot tell. Virtue is of so little regard in these costermongers' times that true valor is turned bearherd; pregnancy is made a tapster, and hath his quick wit wasted in giving reckonings. All the other gifts appurtenant to man, as the malice of this age shapes them, are not worth a gooseberry. You that are old consider not the capacities of us that are young. You do measure the heat of our livers with the bitterness of your galls, and we that are in the vaward of our youth, I must confess, are wags too. CHIEF JUSTICE Do you set down your name in the scroll of youth, that are written down old with all the characters of age? Have you not a moist eye, a dry hand, a yellow cheek, a white beard, a decreasing leg, an increasing belly? Is not your voice broken, your wind short, your chin double, your wit single, and every part about you blasted with antiquity? And will you yet call yourself young? Fie, fie, fie, Sir John. FALSTAFF My lord, I was born about three of the clock in the afternoon, with a white head and something a round belly. For my voice, I have lost it with halloing and singing of anthems. To approve my youth further, I will not. The truth is, I am only old in judgment and understanding. And he that will caper with me for a thousand marks, let him lend me the money, and have at him. For the box of the ear that the Prince gave you, he gave it like a rude prince, and you took it like a sensible lord. I have checked him for it, and the young lion repents. [Aside.] Marry, not in ashes and sackcloth, but in new silk and old sack. CHIEF JUSTICE Well, God send the Prince a better companion. FALSTAFF God send the companion a better prince. I cannot rid my hands of him. CHIEF JUSTICE Well, the King hath severed you and Prince Harry. I hear you are going with Lord John of Lancaster against the Archbishop and the Earl of Northumberland. FALSTAFF Yea, I thank your pretty sweet wit for it. But look you pray, all you that kiss my Lady Peace at home, that our armies join not in a hot day, for, by the Lord, I take but two shirts out with me, and I mean not to sweat extraordinarily. If it be a hot day and I brandish anything but a bottle, I would I might never spit white again. There is not a dangerous action can peep out his head but I am thrust upon it. Well, I cannot last ever. But it was always yet the trick of our English nation, if they have a good thing, to make it too common. If you will needs say I am an old man, you should give me rest. I would to God my name were not so terrible to the enemy as it is. I were better to be eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion. CHIEF JUSTICE Well, be honest, be honest, and God bless your expedition. FALSTAFF Will your Lordship lend me a thousand pound to furnish me forth? CHIEF JUSTICE Not a penny, not a penny. You are too impatient to bear crosses. Fare you well. Commend me to my cousin Westmoreland. [Lord Chief Justice and his Servant exit.] FALSTAFF If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle. A man can no more separate age and covetousness than he can part young limbs and lechery; but the gout galls the one, and the pox pinches the other, and so both the degrees prevent my curses.--Boy! PAGE Sir. FALSTAFF What money is in my purse? PAGE Seven groats and two pence. FALSTAFF I can get no remedy against this consumption of the purse. Borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the disease is incurable. [Giving papers to the Page.] Go bear this letter to my Lord of Lancaster, this to the Prince, this to the Earl of Westmoreland, and this to old Mistress Ursula, whom I have weekly sworn to marry since I perceived the first white hair of my chin. About it. You know where to find me. [Page exits.] A pox of this gout! Or a gout of this pox, for the one or the other plays the rogue with my great toe. 'Tis no matter if I do halt. I have the wars for my color, and my pension shall seem the more reasonable. A good wit will make use of anything. I will turn diseases to commodity. [He exits.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter th' Archbishop of York, Thomas Mowbray (Earl Marshal), the Lord Hastings, and Lord Bardolph.] ARCHBISHOP Thus have you heard our cause and known our means, And, my most noble friends, I pray you all Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes. And first, Lord Marshal, what say you to it? MOWBRAY I well allow the occasion of our arms, But gladly would be better satisfied How in our means we should advance ourselves To look with forehead bold and big enough Upon the power and puissance of the King. HASTINGS Our present musters grow upon the file To five-and-twenty thousand men of choice, And our supplies live largely in the hope Of great Northumberland, whose bosom burns With an incensed fire of injuries. LORD BARDOLPH The question, then, Lord Hastings, standeth thus: Whether our present five-and-twenty thousand May hold up head without Northumberland. HASTINGS With him we may. LORD BARDOLPH Yea, marry, there's the point. But if without him we be thought too feeble, My judgment is we should not step too far Till we had his assistance by the hand. For in a theme so bloody-faced as this, Conjecture, expectation, and surmise Of aids incertain should not be admitted. ARCHBISHOP 'Tis very true, Lord Bardolph, for indeed It was young Hotspur's cause at Shrewsbury. LORD BARDOLPH It was, my lord; who lined himself with hope, Eating the air and promise of supply, Flatt'ring himself in project of a power Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts, And so, with great imagination Proper to madmen, led his powers to death And, winking, leapt into destruction. HASTINGS But, by your leave, it never yet did hurt To lay down likelihoods and forms of hope. LORD BARDOLPH Yes, if this present quality of war -- Indeed the instant action, a cause on foot-- Lives so in hope, as in an early spring We see th' appearing buds, which to prove fruit Hope gives not so much warrant as despair That frosts will bite them. When we mean to build, We first survey the plot, then draw the model, And when we see the figure of the house, Then must we rate the cost of the erection, Which if we find outweighs ability, What do we then but draw anew the model In fewer offices, or at least desist To build at all? Much more in this great work, Which is almost to pluck a kingdom down And set another up, should we survey The plot of situation and the model, Consent upon a sure foundation, Question surveyors, know our own estate, How able such a work to undergo, To weigh against his opposite. Or else We fortify in paper and in figures, Using the names of men instead of men, Like one that draws the model of an house Beyond his power to build it, who, half through, Gives o'er and leaves his part-created cost A naked subject to the weeping clouds And waste for churlish winter's tyranny. HASTINGS Grant that our hopes, yet likely of fair birth, Should be stillborn and that we now possessed The utmost man of expectation, I think we are a body strong enough, Even as we are, to equal with the King. LORD BARDOLPH What, is the King but five-and-twenty thousand? HASTINGS To us no more, nay, not so much, Lord Bardolph, For his divisions, as the times do brawl, Are in three heads: one power against the French, And one against Glendower; perforce a third Must take up us. So is the unfirm king In three divided, and his coffers sound With hollow poverty and emptiness. ARCHBISHOP That he should draw his several strengths together And come against us in full puissance Need not to be dreaded. HASTINGS If he should do so, He leaves his back unarmed, the French and Welsh Baying him at the heels. Never fear that. LORD BARDOLPH Who is it like should lead his forces hither? HASTINGS The Duke of Lancaster and Westmoreland; Against the Welsh, himself and Harry Monmouth; But who is substituted against the French I have no certain notice. ARCHBISHOP Let us on, And publish the occasion of our arms. The commonwealth is sick of their own choice. Their over-greedy love hath surfeited. An habitation giddy and unsure Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart. O thou fond many, with what loud applause Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke Before he was what thou wouldst have him be. And being now trimmed in thine own desires, Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him That thou provok'st thyself to cast him up. So, so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge Thy glutton bosom of the royal Richard, And now thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up And howl'st to find it. What trust is in these times? They that, when Richard lived, would have him die Are now become enamored on his grave. Thou, that threw'st dust upon his goodly head When through proud London he came sighing on After th' admired heels of Bolingbroke, Criest now "O earth, yield us that king again, And take thou this!" O thoughts of men accursed! Past and to come seems best; things present, worst. MOWBRAY Shall we go draw our numbers and set on? HASTINGS We are time's subjects, and time bids begone. [They exit.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Hostess Quickly of the tavern with two Officers, Fang and Snare, who lags behind.] HOSTESS Master Fang, have you entered the action? FANG It is entered. HOSTESS Where's your yeoman? Is 't a lusty yeoman? Will he stand to 't? FANG, [calling] Sirrah! Where's Snare? HOSTESS O Lord, ay, good Master Snare. SNARE, [catching up to them] Here, here. FANG Snare, we must arrest Sir John Falstaff. HOSTESS Yea, good Master Snare, I have entered him and all. SNARE It may chance cost some of us our lives, for he will stab. HOSTESS Alas the day, take heed of him. He stabbed me in mine own house, and that most beastly, in good faith. He cares not what mischief he does. If his weapon be out, he will foin like any devil. He will spare neither man, woman, nor child. FANG If I can close with him, I care not for his thrust. HOSTESS No, nor I neither. I'll be at your elbow. FANG An I but fist him once, an he come but within my view-- HOSTESS I am undone by his going. I warrant you, he's an infinitive thing upon my score. Good Master Fang, hold him sure. Good Master Snare, let him not 'scape. He comes continuantly to Pie Corner, saving your manhoods, to buy a saddle, and he is indited to dinner to the Lubber's Head in Lumbert Street, to Master Smooth's the silkman. I pray you, since my exion is entered, and my case so openly known to the world, let him be brought in to his answer. A hundred mark is a long one for a poor lone woman to bear, and I have borne, and borne, and borne, and have been fubbed off, and fubbed off, and fubbed off from this day to that day, that it is a shame to be thought on. There is no honesty in such dealing, unless a woman should be made an ass and a beast to bear every knave's wrong. Yonder he comes, and that arrant malmsey-nose knave, Bardolph, with him. Do your offices, do your offices, Master Fang and Master Snare, do me, do me, do me your offices. [Enter Sir John Falstaff and Bardolph, and the Page.] FALSTAFF How now, whose mare's dead? What's the matter? FANG Sir John, I arrest you at the suit of Mistress Quickly. FALSTAFF Away, varlets!--Draw, Bardolph. Cut me off the villain's head. Throw the quean in the channel. [They draw.] HOSTESS Throw me in the channel? I'll throw thee in the channel. Wilt thou, wilt thou, thou bastardly rogue?--Murder, murder!--Ah, thou honeysuckle villain, wilt thou kill God's officers and the King's? Ah, thou honeyseed rogue, thou art a honeyseed, a man-queller, and a woman-queller. FALSTAFF Keep them off, Bardolph. OFFICERS A rescue, a rescue! HOSTESS Good people, bring a rescue or two.--Thou wot, wot thou? Thou wot, wot ta? Do, do, thou rogue. Do, thou hempseed. PAGE Away, you scullion, you rampallian, you fustilarian! I'll tickle your catastrophe. [Enter Lord Chief Justice and his Men.] CHIEF JUSTICE What is the matter? Keep the peace here, ho! HOSTESS Good my lord, be good to me. I beseech you stand to me. CHIEF JUSTICE How now, Sir John? What, are you brawling here? Doth this become your place, your time, and business? You should have been well on your way to York.-- Stand from him, fellow. Wherefore hang'st thou upon him? HOSTESS O my most worshipful lord, an 't please your Grace, I am a poor widow of Eastcheap, and he is arrested at my suit. CHIEF JUSTICE For what sum? HOSTESS It is more than for some, my lord; it is for all I have. He hath eaten me out of house and home. He hath put all my substance into that fat belly of his. [To Falstaff.] But I will have some of it out again, or I will ride thee o' nights like the mare. FALSTAFF I think I am as like to ride the mare if I have any vantage of ground to get up. CHIEF JUSTICE How comes this, Sir John? Fie, what man of good temper would endure this tempest of exclamation? Are you not ashamed to enforce a poor widow to so rough a course to come by her own? FALSTAFF What is the gross sum that I owe thee? HOSTESS Marry, if thou wert an honest man, thyself and the money too. Thou didst swear to me upon a parcel-gilt goblet, sitting in my Dolphin chamber at the round table by a sea-coal fire, upon Wednesday in Wheeson week, when the Prince broke thy head for liking his father to a singing-man of Windsor, thou didst swear to me then, as I was washing thy wound, to marry me and make me my lady thy wife. Canst thou deny it? Did not Goodwife Keech, the butcher's wife, come in then and call me Gossip Quickly, coming in to borrow a mess of vinegar, telling us she had a good dish of prawns, whereby thou didst desire to eat some, whereby I told thee they were ill for a green wound? And didst thou not, when she was gone downstairs, desire me to be no more so familiarity with such poor people, saying that ere long they should call me madam? And didst thou not kiss me and bid me fetch thee thirty shillings? I put thee now to thy book-oath. Deny it if thou canst. FALSTAFF My lord, this is a poor mad soul, and she says up and down the town that her eldest son is like you. She hath been in good case, and the truth is, poverty hath distracted her. But, for these foolish officers, I beseech you I may have redress against them. CHIEF JUSTICE Sir John, Sir John, I am well acquainted with your manner of wrenching the true cause the false way. It is not a confident brow, nor the throng of words that come with such more than impudent sauciness from you, can thrust me from a level consideration. You have, as it appears to me, practiced upon the easy-yielding spirit of this woman, and made her serve your uses both in purse and in person. HOSTESS Yea, in truth, my lord. CHIEF JUSTICE Pray thee, peace.--Pay her the debt you owe her, and unpay the villainy you have done with her. The one you may do with sterling money, and the other with current repentance. FALSTAFF My lord, I will not undergo this sneap without reply. You call honorable boldness "impudent sauciness." If a man will make curtsy and say nothing, he is virtuous. No, my lord, my humble duty remembered, I will not be your suitor. I say to you, I do desire deliverance from these officers, being upon hasty employment in the King's affairs. CHIEF JUSTICE You speak as having power to do wrong; but answer in th' effect of your reputation, and satisfy the poor woman. FALSTAFF Come hither, hostess. [He speaks aside to the Hostess.] [Enter a Messenger, Master Gower.] CHIEF JUSTICE Now, Master Gower, what news? GOWER The King, my lord, and Harry Prince of Wales Are near at hand. The rest the paper tells. [He gives the Chief Justice a paper to read.] FALSTAFF, [to the Hostess] As I am a gentleman! HOSTESS Faith, you said so before. FALSTAFF As I am a gentleman. Come. No more words of it. HOSTESS By this heavenly ground I tread on, I must be fain to pawn both my plate and the tapestry of my dining chambers. FALSTAFF Glasses, glasses, is the only drinking. And for thy walls, a pretty slight drollery, or the story of the Prodigal or the German hunting in waterwork is worth a thousand of these bed-hangers and these fly-bitten tapestries. Let it be ten pound, if thou canst. Come, an 'twere not for thy humors, there's not a better wench in England. Go wash thy face, and draw the action. Come, thou must not be in this humor with me. Dost not know me? Come, come. I know thou wast set on to this. HOSTESS Pray thee, Sir John, let it be but twenty nobles. I' faith, I am loath to pawn my plate, so God save me, la. FALSTAFF Let it alone. I'll make other shift. You'll be a fool still. HOSTESS Well, you shall have it, though I pawn my gown. I hope you'll come to supper. You'll pay me all together? FALSTAFF Will I live? [Aside to Bardolph.] Go with her, with her. Hook on, hook on. HOSTESS Will you have Doll Tearsheet meet you at supper? FALSTAFF No more words. Let's have her. [Hostess, Fang, Snare, Bardolph, Page, and others exit.] CHIEF JUSTICE, [to Gower] I have heard better news. FALSTAFF, [to Chief Justice] What's the news, my good lord? CHIEF JUSTICE, [to Gower] Where lay the King tonight? GOWER At Basingstoke, my lord. FALSTAFF, [to Chief Justice] I hope, my lord, all's well. What is the news, my lord? CHIEF JUSTICE, [to Gower] Come all his forces back? GOWER No. Fifteen hundred foot, five hundred horse Are marched up to my Lord of Lancaster Against Northumberland and the Archbishop. FALSTAFF, [to Chief Justice] Comes the King back from Wales, my noble lord? CHIEF JUSTICE, [to Gower] You shall have letters of me presently. Come. Go along with me, good Master Gower. FALSTAFF My lord! CHIEF JUSTICE What's the matter? FALSTAFF Master Gower, shall I entreat you with me to dinner? GOWER I must wait upon my good lord here. I thank you, good Sir John. CHIEF JUSTICE Sir John, you loiter here too long, being you are to take soldiers up in counties as you go. FALSTAFF Will you sup with me, Master Gower? CHIEF JUSTICE What foolish master taught you these manners, Sir John? FALSTAFF Master Gower, if they become me not, he was a fool that taught them me.--This is the right fencing grace, my lord: tap for tap, and so part fair. CHIEF JUSTICE Now the Lord lighten thee. Thou art a great fool. [They separate and exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter the Prince and Poins.] PRINCE Before God, I am exceeding weary. POINS Is 't come to that? I had thought weariness durst not have attached one of so high blood. PRINCE Faith, it does me, though it discolors the complexion of my greatness to acknowledge it. Doth it not show vilely in me to desire small beer? POINS Why, a prince should not be so loosely studied as to remember so weak a composition. PRINCE Belike then my appetite was not princely got, for, by my troth, I do now remember the poor creature small beer. But indeed these humble considerations make me out of love with my greatness. What a disgrace is it to me to remember thy name, or to know thy face tomorrow, or to take note how many pair of silk stockings thou hast--with these, and those that were thy peach-colored ones--or to bear the inventory of thy shirts, as, one for superfluity and another for use. But that the tennis-court keeper knows better than I, for it is a low ebb of linen with thee when thou keepest not racket there, as thou hast not done a great while, because the rest of the low countries have made a shift to eat up thy holland; and God knows whether those that bawl out the ruins of thy linen shall inherit His kingdom; but the midwives say the children are not in the fault, whereupon the world increases and kindreds are mightily strengthened. POINS How ill it follows, after you have labored so hard, you should talk so idly! Tell me, how many good young princes would do so, their fathers being so sick as yours at this time is? PRINCE Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins? POINS Yes, faith, and let it be an excellent good thing. PRINCE It shall serve among wits of no higher breeding than thine. POINS Go to. I stand the push of your one thing that you will tell. PRINCE Marry, I tell thee it is not meet that I should be sad, now my father is sick--albeit I could tell to thee, as to one it pleases me, for fault of a better, to call my friend, I could be sad, and sad indeed too. POINS Very hardly, upon such a subject. PRINCE By this hand, thou thinkest me as far in the devil's book as thou and Falstaff for obduracy and persistency. Let the end try the man. But I tell thee, my heart bleeds inwardly that my father is so sick; and keeping such vile company as thou art hath in reason taken from me all ostentation of sorrow. POINS The reason? PRINCE What wouldst thou think of me if I should weep? POINS I would think thee a most princely hypocrite. PRINCE It would be every man's thought, and thou art a blessed fellow to think as every man thinks. Never a man's thought in the world keeps the roadway better than thine. Every man would think me an hypocrite indeed. And what accites your most worshipful thought to think so? POINS Why, because you have been so lewd and so much engraffed to Falstaff. PRINCE And to thee. POINS By this light, I am well spoke on. I can hear it with mine own ears. The worst that they can say of me is that I am a second brother, and that I am a proper fellow of my hands; and those two things, I confess, I cannot help. By the Mass, here comes Bardolph. [Enter Bardolph and Page.] PRINCE And the boy that I gave Falstaff. He had him from me Christian, and look if the fat villain have not transformed him ape. BARDOLPH God save your Grace. PRINCE And yours, most noble Bardolph. POINS, [to Bardolph] Come, you virtuous ass, you bashful fool, must you be blushing? Wherefore blush you now? What a maidenly man-at-arms are you become! Is 't such a matter to get a pottle-pot's maidenhead? PAGE He calls me e'en now, my lord, through a red lattice, and I could discern no part of his face from the window. At last I spied his eyes, and methought he had made two holes in the ale-wife's new petticoat and so peeped through. PRINCE Has not the boy profited? BARDOLPH, [to Page] Away, you whoreson upright rabbit, away! PAGE Away, you rascally Althea's dream, away! PRINCE Instruct us, boy. What dream, boy? PAGE Marry, my lord, Althea dreamt she was delivered of a firebrand, and therefore I call him her dream. PRINCE A crown's worth of good interpretation. There 'tis, boy. [He gives the Page money.] POINS O, that this good blossom could be kept from cankers! Well, there is sixpence to preserve thee. [He gives the Page money.] BARDOLPH An you do not make him be hanged among you, the gallows shall have wrong. PRINCE And how doth thy master, Bardolph? BARDOLPH Well, my good lord. He heard of your Grace's coming to town. There's a letter for you. [He gives the Prince a paper.] POINS Delivered with good respect. And how doth the Martlemas your master? BARDOLPH In bodily health, sir. POINS Marry, the immortal part needs a physician, but that moves not him. Though that be sick, it dies not. PRINCE I do allow this wen to be as familiar with me as my dog, and he holds his place, for look you how he writes. [He shows the letter to Poins.] POINS [reads the superscription] John Falstaff, knight. Every man must know that as oft as he has occasion to name himself, even like those that are kin to the King, for they never prick their finger but they say "There's some of the King's blood spilt." "How comes that?" says he that takes upon him not to conceive. The answer is as ready as a borrower's cap: "I am the King's poor cousin, sir." PRINCE Nay, they will be kin to us, or they will fetch it from Japheth. But to the letter: [Reads.] Sir John Falstaff, knight, to the son of the King nearest his father, Harry Prince of Wales, greeting. POINS Why, this is a certificate. PRINCE Peace! [Reads.] I will imitate the honorable Romans in brevity. POINS He sure means brevity in breath, short-winded. PRINCE [reads] I commend me to thee, I commend thee, and I leave thee. Be not too familiar with Poins, for he misuses thy favors so much that he swears thou art to marry his sister Nell. Repent at idle times as thou mayst, and so farewell. Thine by yea and no, which is as much as to say, as thou usest him, Jack Falstaff with my familiars, John with my brothers and sisters, and Sir John with all Europe. POINS My lord, I'll steep this letter in sack and make him eat it. PRINCE That's to make him eat twenty of his words. But do you use me thus, Ned? Must I marry your sister? POINS God send the wench no worse fortune! But I never said so. PRINCE Well, thus we play the fools with the time, and the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us. [To Bardolph.] Is your master here in London? BARDOLPH Yea, my lord. PRINCE Where sups he? Doth the old boar feed in the old frank? BARDOLPH At the old place, my lord, in Eastcheap. PRINCE What company? PAGE Ephesians, my lord, of the old church. PRINCE Sup any women with him? PAGE None, my lord, but old Mistress Quickly and Mistress Doll Tearsheet. PRINCE What pagan may that be? PAGE A proper gentlewoman, sir, and a kinswoman of my master's. PRINCE Even such kin as the parish heifers are to the town bull.--Shall we steal upon them, Ned, at supper? POINS I am your shadow, my lord. I'll follow you. PRINCE Sirrah--you, boy--and Bardolph, no word to your master that I am yet come to town. There's for your silence. [He gives money.] BARDOLPH I have no tongue, sir. PAGE And for mine, sir, I will govern it. PRINCE Fare you well. Go. [Bardolph and Page exit.] This Doll Tearsheet should be some road. POINS I warrant you, as common as the way between Saint Albans and London. PRINCE How might we see Falstaff bestow himself tonight in his true colors, and not ourselves be seen? POINS Put on two leathern jerkins and aprons, and wait upon him at his table as drawers. PRINCE From a god to a bull: a heavy descension. It was Jove's case. From a prince to a 'prentice: a low transformation that shall be mine, for in everything the purpose must weigh with the folly. Follow me, Ned. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Northumberland, his wife, and the wife to Harry Percy.] NORTHUMBERLAND I pray thee, loving wife and gentle daughter, Give even way unto my rough affairs. Put not you on the visage of the times And be, like them, to Percy troublesome. LADY NORTHUMBERLAND I have given over. I will speak no more. Do what you will; your wisdom be your guide. NORTHUMBERLAND Alas, sweet wife, my honor is at pawn, And, but my going, nothing can redeem it. LADY PERCY O yet, for God's sake, go not to these wars. The time was, father, that you broke your word When you were more endeared to it than now, When your own Percy, when my heart's dear Harry, Threw many a northward look to see his father Bring up his powers; but he did long in vain. Who then persuaded you to stay at home? There were two honors lost, yours and your son's. For yours, the God of heaven brighten it. For his, it stuck upon him as the sun In the gray vault of heaven, and by his light Did all the chivalry of England move To do brave acts. He was indeed the glass Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves. He had no legs that practiced not his gait; And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish, Became the accents of the valiant; For those that could speak low and tardily Would turn their own perfection to abuse To seem like him. So that in speech, in gait, In diet, in affections of delight, In military rules, humors of blood, He was the mark and glass, copy and book, That fashioned others. And him--O wondrous him! O miracle of men!--him did you leave, Second to none, unseconded by you, To look upon the hideous god of war In disadvantage, to abide a field Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur's name Did seem defensible. So you left him. Never, O never, do his ghost the wrong To hold your honor more precise and nice With others than with him. Let them alone. The Marshal and the Archbishop are strong. Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers, Today might I, hanging on Hotspur's neck, Have talked of Monmouth's grave. NORTHUMBERLAND Beshrew your heart, Fair daughter, you do draw my spirits from me With new lamenting ancient oversights. But I must go and meet with danger there, Or it will seek me in another place And find me worse provided. LADY NORTHUMBERLAND O, fly to Scotland Till that the nobles and the armed commons Have of their puissance made a little taste. LADY PERCY If they get ground and vantage of the King, Then join you with them like a rib of steel To make strength stronger; but, for all our loves, First let them try themselves. So did your son; He was so suffered. So came I a widow, And never shall have length of life enough To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven For recordation to my noble husband. NORTHUMBERLAND Come, come, go in with me. 'Tis with my mind As with the tide swelled up unto his height, That makes a still-stand, running neither way. Fain would I go to meet the Archbishop, But many thousand reasons hold me back. I will resolve for Scotland. There am I Till time and vantage crave my company. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Francis and another Drawer.] FRANCIS What the devil hast thou brought there-- applejohns? Thou knowest Sir John cannot endure an applejohn. SECOND DRAWER Mass, thou sayst true. The Prince once set a dish of applejohns before him and told him there were five more Sir Johns and, putting off his hat, said "I will now take my leave of these six dry, round, old, withered knights." It angered him to the heart. But he hath forgot that. FRANCIS Why then, cover and set them down, and see if thou canst find out Sneak's noise. Mistress Tearsheet would fain hear some music. Dispatch. The room where they supped is too hot. They'll come in straight. [Enter Will.] WILL Sirrah, here will be the Prince and Master Poins anon, and they will put on two of our jerkins and aprons, and Sir John must not know of it. Bardolph hath brought word. SECOND DRAWER By the Mass, here will be old utis. It will be an excellent stratagem. FRANCIS I'll see if I can find out Sneak. [He exits with the Second Drawer.] [Enter Hostess and Doll Tearsheet.] HOSTESS I' faith, sweetheart, methinks now you are in an excellent good temperality. Your pulsidge beats as extraordinarily as heart would desire, and your color, I warrant you, is as red as any rose, in good truth, la. But, i' faith, you have drunk too much canaries, and that's a marvellous searching wine, and it perfumes the blood ere one can say "What's this?" How do you now? DOLL Better than I was. Hem. HOSTESS Why, that's well said. A good heart's worth gold. Lo, here comes Sir John. [Enter Sir John Falstaff.] FALSTAFF, [singing] When Arthur first in court-- [To Will.] Empty the jordan. [Will exits.] And was a worthy king-- How now, Mistress Doll? HOSTESS Sick of a calm, yea, good faith. FALSTAFF So is all her sect. An they be once in a calm, they are sick. DOLL A pox damn you, you muddy rascal. Is that all the comfort you give me? FALSTAFF You make fat rascals, Mistress Doll. DOLL I make them? Gluttony and diseases make them; I make them not. FALSTAFF If the cook help to make the gluttony, you help to make the diseases, Doll. We catch of you, Doll, we catch of you. Grant that, my poor virtue, grant that. DOLL Yea, joy, our chains and our jewels. FALSTAFF Your brooches, pearls, and ouches--for to serve bravely is to come halting off, you know; to come off the breach with his pike bent bravely, and to surgery bravely, to venture upon the charged chambers bravely-- DOLL Hang yourself, you muddy conger, hang yourself! HOSTESS By my troth, this is the old fashion. You two never meet but you fall to some discord. You are both, i' good truth, as rheumatic as two dry toasts. You cannot one bear with another's confirmities. What the good-year! One must bear, and [to Doll] that must be you. You are the weaker vessel, as they say, the emptier vessel. DOLL Can a weak empty vessel bear such a huge full hogshead? There's a whole merchant's venture of Bordeaux stuff in him. You have not seen a hulk better stuffed in the hold.--Come, I'll be friends with thee, Jack. Thou art going to the wars, and whether I shall ever see thee again or no, there is nobody cares. [Enter Drawer.] DRAWER Sir, Ancient Pistol's below and would speak with you. DOLL Hang him, swaggering rascal! Let him not come hither. It is the foul-mouthed'st rogue in England. HOSTESS If he swagger, let him not come here. No, by my faith, I must live among my neighbors. I'll no swaggerers. I am in good name and fame with the very best. Shut the door. There comes no swaggerers here. I have not lived all this while to have swaggering now. Shut the door, I pray you. FALSTAFF Dost thou hear, hostess? HOSTESS Pray you pacify yourself, Sir John. There comes no swaggerers here. FALSTAFF Dost thou hear? It is mine ancient. HOSTESS Tilly-vally, Sir John, ne'er tell me. And your ancient swaggerer comes not in my doors. I was before Master Tisick the debuty t' other day, and, as he said to me--'twas no longer ago than Wednesday last, i' good faith--"Neighbor Quickly," says he--Master Dumb, our minister, was by then-- "Neighbor Quickly," says he, "receive those that are civil, for," said he, "you are in an ill name." Now he said so, I can tell whereupon. "For," says he, "you are an honest woman, and well thought on. Therefore take heed what guests you receive. Receive," says he, "no swaggering companions." There comes none here. You would bless you to hear what he said. No, I'll no swaggerers. FALSTAFF He's no swaggerer, hostess, a tame cheater, i' faith. You may stroke him as gently as a puppy greyhound. He'll not swagger with a Barbary hen if her feathers turn back in any show of resistance.-- Call him up, drawer. [Drawer exits.] HOSTESS "Cheater" call you him? I will bar no honest man my house, nor no cheater, but I do not love swaggering. By my troth, I am the worse when one says "swagger." Feel, masters, how I shake; look you, I warrant you. DOLL So you do, hostess. HOSTESS Do I? Yea, in very truth, do I, an 'twere an aspen leaf. I cannot abide swaggerers. [Enter Ancient Pistol, Bardolph, and Page.] PISTOL God save you, Sir John. FALSTAFF Welcome, Ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol, I charge you with a cup of sack. Do you discharge upon mine hostess. PISTOL I will discharge upon her, Sir John, with two bullets. FALSTAFF She is pistol-proof. Sir, you shall not hardly offend her. HOSTESS Come, I'll drink no proofs nor no bullets. I'll drink no more than will do me good, for no man's pleasure, I. PISTOL Then, to you, Mistress Dorothy! I will charge you. DOLL Charge me? I scorn you, scurvy companion. What, you poor, base, rascally, cheating lack-linen mate! Away, you mouldy rogue, away! I am meat for your master. PISTOL I know you, Mistress Dorothy. DOLL Away, you cutpurse rascal, you filthy bung, away! By this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps an you play the saucy cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal, you basket-hilt stale juggler, you. Since when, I pray you, sir? God's light, with two points on your shoulder? Much! PISTOL God let me not live but I will murder your ruff for this. FALSTAFF No more, Pistol. I would not have you go off here. Discharge yourself of our company, Pistol. HOSTESS No, good Captain Pistol, not here, sweet captain! DOLL Captain? Thou abominable damned cheater, art thou not ashamed to be called captain? An captains were of my mind, they would truncheon you out for taking their names upon you before you have earned them. You a captain? You slave, for what? For tearing a poor whore's ruff in a bawdy house? He a captain! Hang him, rogue. He lives upon mouldy stewed prunes and dried cakes. A captain? God's light, these villains will make the word as odious as the word "occupy," which was an excellent good word before it was ill sorted. Therefore captains had need look to 't. BARDOLPH, [to Pistol] Pray thee go down, good ancient. FALSTAFF Hark thee hither, Mistress Doll. PISTOL, [to Bardolph] Not I. I tell thee what, Corporal Bardolph, I could tear her. I'll be revenged of her. PAGE Pray thee go down. PISTOL I'll see her damned first to Pluto's damned lake, by this hand, to th' infernal deep with Erebus and tortures vile also. Hold hook and line, say I. Down, down, dogs! Down, Fates! Have we not Hiren here? [He draws his sword.] HOSTESS Good Captain Peesell, be quiet. 'Tis very late, i' faith. I beseek you now, aggravate your choler. PISTOL These be good humors indeed. Shall pack-horses and hollow pampered jades of Asia, which cannot go but thirty mile a day, compare with Caesars and with cannibals and Troyant Greeks? Nay, rather damn them with King Cerberus, and let the welkin roar. Shall we fall foul for toys? HOSTESS By my troth, captain, these are very bitter words. BARDOLPH Begone, good ancient. This will grow to a brawl anon. PISTOL Die men like dogs! Give crowns like pins! Have we not Hiren here? HOSTESS O' my word, captain, there's none such here. What the good-year, do you think I would deny her? For God's sake, be quiet. PISTOL Then feed and be fat, my fair Calipolis. Come, give 's some sack. Si fortune me tormente, sperato me contento. Fear we broadsides? No, let the fiend give fire. Give me some sack, and, sweetheart, lie thou there. [Laying down his sword.] Come we to full points here? And are etceteras nothings? FALSTAFF Pistol, I would be quiet. PISTOL Sweet knight, I kiss thy neaf. What, we have seen the seven stars. DOLL For God's sake, thrust him downstairs. I cannot endure such a fustian rascal. PISTOL "Thrust him downstairs"? Know we not Galloway nags? FALSTAFF Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat shilling. Nay, an he do nothing but speak nothing, he shall be nothing here. BARDOLPH Come, get you downstairs. PISTOL, [taking up his sword] What, shall we have incision? Shall we imbrue? Then death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days. Why then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds untwind the Sisters Three. Come, Atropos, I say. HOSTESS Here's goodly stuff toward! FALSTAFF Give me my rapier, boy. DOLL I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee do not draw. FALSTAFF, [to Pistol] Get you downstairs. [They fight.] HOSTESS Here's a goodly tumult. I'll forswear keeping house afore I'll be in these tirrits and frights. So, murder, I warrant now. Alas, alas, put up your naked weapons, put up your naked weapons. [Bardolph and Pistol exit.] DOLL I pray thee, Jack, be quiet. The rascal's gone. Ah, you whoreson little valiant villain, you. HOSTESS, [to Falstaff] Are you not hurt i' th' groin? Methought he made a shrewd thrust at your belly. [Enter Bardolph.] FALSTAFF Have you turned him out o' doors? BARDOLPH Yea, sir. The rascal's drunk. You have hurt him, sir, i' th' shoulder. FALSTAFF A rascal to brave me! DOLL Ah, you sweet little rogue, you. Alas, poor ape, how thou sweat'st! Come, let me wipe thy face. Come on, you whoreson chops. Ah, rogue, i' faith, I love thee. Thou art as valorous as Hector of Troy, worth five of Agamemnon, and ten times better than the Nine Worthies. Ah, villain! FALSTAFF Ah, rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a blanket. DOLL Do, an thou darest for thy heart. An thou dost, I'll canvass thee between a pair of sheets. [Enter Musicians and Francis.] PAGE The music is come, sir. FALSTAFF Let them play.--Play, sirs.--Sit on my knee, Doll. A rascal bragging slave! The rogue fled from me like quicksilver. DOLL I' faith, and thou followed'st him like a church. Thou whoreson little tidy Bartholomew boar-pig, when wilt thou leave fighting a-days and foining a-nights and begin to patch up thine old body for heaven? [Enter behind them Prince and Poins disguised.] FALSTAFF Peace, good Doll. Do not speak like a death's-head; do not bid me remember mine end. DOLL Sirrah, what humor's the Prince of? FALSTAFF A good shallow young fellow, he would have made a good pantler; he would 'a chipped bread well. DOLL They say Poins has a good wit. FALSTAFF He a good wit? Hang him, baboon. His wit's as thick as Tewkesbury mustard. There's no more conceit in him than is in a mallet. DOLL Why does the Prince love him so then? FALSTAFF Because their legs are both of a bigness, and he plays at quoits well, and eats conger and fennel, and drinks off candles' ends for flap-dragons, and rides the wild mare with the boys, and jumps upon joint stools, and swears with a good grace, and wears his boots very smooth like unto the sign of the Leg, and breeds no bate with telling of discreet stories, and such other gambol faculties he has that show a weak mind and an able body, for the which the Prince admits him; for the Prince himself is such another. The weight of a hair will turn the scales between their avoirdupois. PRINCE, [aside to Poins] Would not this nave of a wheel have his ears cut off? POINS Let's beat him before his whore. PRINCE Look whe'er the withered elder hath not his poll clawed like a parrot. POINS Is it not strange that desire should so many years outlive performance? FALSTAFF Kiss me, Doll. PRINCE, [aside to Poins] Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction! What says th' almanac to that? POINS And look whether the fiery trigon, his man, be not lisping to his master's old tables, his notebook, his counsel keeper. FALSTAFF, [to Doll] Thou dost give me flattering busses. DOLL By my troth, I kiss thee with a most constant heart. FALSTAFF I am old, I am old. DOLL I love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy young boy of them all. FALSTAFF What stuff wilt thou have a kirtle of? I shall receive money o' Thursday; thou shalt have a cap tomorrow. A merry song! Come, it grows late. We'll to bed. Thou 'lt forget me when I am gone. DOLL By my troth, thou 'lt set me a-weeping an thou sayst so. Prove that ever I dress myself handsome till thy return. Well, harken a' th' end. FALSTAFF Some sack, Francis. PRINCE, POINS, [coming forward] Anon, anon, sir. FALSTAFF Ha? A bastard son of the King's?--And art not thou Poins his brother? PRINCE Why, thou globe of sinful continents, what a life dost thou lead? FALSTAFF A better than thou. I am a gentleman. Thou art a drawer. PRINCE Very true, sir, and I come to draw you out by the ears. HOSTESS O, the Lord preserve thy good Grace! By my troth, welcome to London. Now the Lord bless that sweet face of thine. O Jesu, are you come from Wales? FALSTAFF, [to Prince] Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty, by this light flesh and corrupt blood, thou art welcome. DOLL How? You fat fool, I scorn you. POINS My lord, he will drive you out of your revenge and turn all to a merriment if you take not the heat. PRINCE, [to Falstaff] You whoreson candle-mine, you, how vilely did you speak of me even now before this honest, virtuous, civil gentlewoman! HOSTESS God's blessing of your good heart, and so she is, by my troth. FALSTAFF, [to Prince] Didst thou hear me? PRINCE Yea, and you knew me as you did when you ran away by Gad's Hill. You knew I was at your back, and spoke it on purpose to try my patience. FALSTAFF No, no, no, not so. I did not think thou wast within hearing. PRINCE I shall drive you, then, to confess the wilfull abuse, and then I know how to handle you. FALSTAFF No abuse, Hal, o' mine honor, no abuse. PRINCE Not to dispraise me and call me pantler and bread-chipper and I know not what? FALSTAFF No abuse, Hal. POINS No abuse? FALSTAFF No abuse, Ned, i' th' world, honest Ned, none. I dispraised him before the wicked, [(to Prince)] that the wicked might not fall in love with thee; in which doing, I have done the part of a careful friend and a true subject, and thy father is to give me thanks for it. No abuse, Hal.--None, Ned, none. No, faith, boys, none. PRINCE See now whether pure fear and entire cowardice doth not make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman to close with us. Is she of the wicked, is thine hostess here of the wicked, or is thy boy of the wicked, or honest Bardolph, whose zeal burns in his nose, of the wicked? POINS Answer, thou dead elm, answer. FALSTAFF The fiend hath pricked down Bardolph irrecoverable, and his face is Lucifer's privy kitchen, where he doth nothing but roast malt-worms. For the boy, there is a good angel about him, but the devil blinds him too. PRINCE For the women? FALSTAFF For one of them, she's in hell already and burns poor souls. For th' other, I owe her money, and whether she be damned for that I know not. HOSTESS No, I warrant you. FALSTAFF No, I think thou art not. I think thou art quit for that. Marry, there is another indictment upon thee for suffering flesh to be eaten in thy house contrary to the law, for the which I think thou wilt howl. HOSTESS All vitlars do so. What's a joint of mutton or two in a whole Lent? PRINCE, [to Doll] You, gentlewoman. DOLL What says your Grace? FALSTAFF His grace says that which his flesh rebels against. [Peto knocks at door.] HOSTESS Who knocks so loud at door? Look to th' door there, Francis. [Francis exits.] [Enter Peto.] PRINCE Peto, how now, what news? PETO The King your father is at Westminster, And there are twenty weak and wearied posts Come from the north, and as I came along I met and overtook a dozen captains, Bareheaded, sweating, knocking at the taverns And asking everyone for Sir John Falstaff. PRINCE By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame So idly to profane the precious time When tempest of commotion, like the south Borne with black vapor, doth begin to melt And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.-- Give me my sword and cloak.--Falstaff, good night. [Prince, Peto, and Poins exit.] FALSTAFF Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, and we must hence and leave it unpicked. [(Knocking. Bardolph exits.)] More knocking at the door? [(Bardolph returns.)] How now, what's the matter? BARDOLPH You must away to court, sir, presently. A dozen captains stay at door for you. FALSTAFF, [to Page] Pay the musicians, sirrah.-- Farewell, hostess.--Farewell, Doll. You see, my good wenches, how men of merit are sought after. The undeserver may sleep when the man of action is called on. Farewell, good wenches. If I be not sent away post, I will see you again ere I go. DOLL I cannot speak. If my heart be not ready to burst--well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself. FALSTAFF Farewell, farewell. [He exits with Bardolph, Page, and Musicians.] HOSTESS Well, fare thee well. I have known thee these twenty-nine years, come peasecod time, but an honester and truer-hearted man--well, fare thee well. BARDOLPH, [within] Mistress Tearsheet! HOSTESS What's the matter? BARDOLPH, [within] Bid Mistress Tearsheet come to my master. HOSTESS O, run, Doll, run, run, good Doll. Come.-- She comes blubbered.--Yea! Will you come, Doll? [They exit.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter the King in his nightgown with a Page.] KING Go call the Earls of Surrey and of Warwick; But, ere they come, bid them o'erread these letters And well consider of them. Make good speed. [Page exits.] How many thousand of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep! O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down And steep my senses in forgetfulness? Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, And hushed with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, Than in the perfumed chambers of the great, Under the canopies of costly state, And lulled with sound of sweetest melody? O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile In loathsome beds and leavest the kingly couch A watch-case or a common 'larum bell? Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast Seal up the shipboy's eyes and rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge And in the visitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads and hanging them With deafing clamor in the slippery clouds That with the hurly death itself awakes? Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude, And, in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down. Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. [Enter Warwick, Surrey and Sir John Blunt.] WARWICK Many good morrows to your Majesty. KING Is it good morrow, lords? WARWICK 'Tis one o'clock, and past. KING Why then, good morrow to you all, my lords. Have you read o'er the letter that I sent you? WARWICK We have, my liege. KING Then you perceive the body of our kingdom How foul it is, what rank diseases grow, And with what danger near the heart of it. WARWICK It is but as a body yet distempered, Which to his former strength may be restored With good advice and little medicine. My Lord Northumberland will soon be cooled. KING O God, that one might read the book of fate And see the revolution of the times Make mountains level, and the continent, Weary of solid firmness, melt itself Into the sea, and other times to see The beachy girdle of the ocean Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chance's mocks And changes fill the cup of alteration With divers liquors! O, if this were seen, The happiest youth, viewing his progress through, What perils past, what crosses to ensue, Would shut the book and sit him down and die. 'Tis not ten years gone Since Richard and Northumberland, great friends, Did feast together, and in two years after Were they at wars. It is but eight years since This Percy was the man nearest my soul, Who like a brother toiled in my affairs And laid his love and life under my foot, Yea, for my sake, even to the eyes of Richard Gave him defiance. But which of you was by-- [To Warwick.] You, cousin Nevil, as I may remember-- When Richard, with his eye brimful of tears, Then checked and rated by Northumberland, Did speak these words, now proved a prophecy? "Northumberland, thou ladder by the which My cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne"-- Though then, God knows, I had no such intent, But that necessity so bowed the state That I and greatness were compelled to kiss-- "The time shall come," thus did he follow it, "The time will come that foul sin, gathering head, Shall break into corruption"--so went on, Foretelling this same time's condition And the division of our amity. WARWICK There is a history in all men's lives Figuring the natures of the times deceased, The which observed, a man may prophesy, With a near aim, of the main chance of things As yet not come to life, who in their seeds And weak beginning lie intreasured. Such things become the hatch and brood of time, And by the necessary form of this, King Richard might create a perfect guess That great Northumberland, then false to him, Would of that seed grow to a greater falseness, Which should not find a ground to root upon Unless on you. KING Are these things then necessities? Then let us meet them like necessities. And that same word even now cries out on us. They say the Bishop and Northumberland Are fifty thousand strong. WARWICK It cannot be, my lord. Rumor doth double, like the voice and echo, The numbers of the feared. Please it your Grace To go to bed. Upon my soul, my lord, The powers that you already have sent forth Shall bring this prize in very easily. To comfort you the more, I have received A certain instance that Glendower is dead. Your Majesty hath been this fortnight ill, And these unseasoned hours perforce must add Unto your sickness. KING I will take your counsel. And were these inward wars once out of hand, We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Justice Shallow and Justice Silence.] SHALLOW Come on, come on, come on. Give me your hand, sir, give me your hand, sir. An early stirrer, by the rood. And how doth my good cousin Silence? SILENCE Good morrow, good cousin Shallow. SHALLOW And how doth my cousin your bedfellow? And your fairest daughter and mine, my goddaughter Ellen? SILENCE Alas, a black ousel, cousin Shallow. SHALLOW By yea and no, sir. I dare say my cousin William is become a good scholar. He is at Oxford still, is he not? SILENCE Indeed, sir, to my cost. SHALLOW He must then to the Inns o' Court shortly. I was once of Clement's Inn, where I think they will talk of mad Shallow yet. SILENCE You were called "Lusty Shallow" then, cousin. SHALLOW By the Mass, I was called anything, and I would have done anything indeed too, and roundly too. There was I, and little John Doit of Staffordshire, and black George Barnes, and Francis Pickbone, and Will Squele, a Cotswold man. You had not four such swinge-bucklers in all the Inns o' Court again. And I may say to you, we knew where the bona robas were and had the best of them all at commandment. Then was Jack Falstaff, now Sir John, a boy, and page to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk. SILENCE This Sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon about soldiers? SHALLOW The same Sir John, the very same. I see him break Scoggin's head at the court gate, when he was a crack not thus high; and the very same day did I fight with one Sampson Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind Grey's Inn. Jesu, Jesu, the mad days that I have spent! And to see how many of my old acquaintance are dead. SILENCE We shall all follow, cousin. SHALLOW Certain, 'tis certain, very sure, very sure. Death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all. All shall die. How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford Fair? SILENCE By my troth, cousin, I was not there. SHALLOW Death is certain. Is old Dooble of your town living yet? SILENCE Dead, sir. SHALLOW Jesu, Jesu, dead! He drew a good bow, and dead? He shot a fine shoot. John o' Gaunt loved him well, and betted much money on his head. Dead! He would have clapped i' th' clout at twelve score, and carried you a forehand shaft a fourteen and fourteen and a half, that it would have done a man's heart good to see. How a score of ewes now? SILENCE Thereafter as they be, a score of good ewes may be worth ten pounds. SHALLOW And is old Dooble dead? SILENCE Here come two of Sir John Falstaff's men, as I think. [Enter Bardolph and one with him.] SHALLOW Good morrow, honest gentlemen. BARDOLPH I beseech you, which is Justice Shallow? SHALLOW I am Robert Shallow, sir, a poor esquire of this county and one of the King's justices of the peace. What is your good pleasure with me? BARDOLPH My captain, sir, commends him to you, my captain, Sir John Falstaff, a tall gentleman, by heaven, and a most gallant leader. SHALLOW He greets me well, sir. I knew him a good backsword man. How doth the good knight? May I ask how my lady his wife doth? BARDOLPH Sir, pardon. A soldier is better accommodated than with a wife. SHALLOW It is well said, in faith, sir, and it is well said indeed too. "Better accommodated." It is good, yea, indeed is it. Good phrases are surely, and ever were, very commendable. "Accommodated." It comes of accommodo. Very good, a good phrase. BARDOLPH Pardon, sir, I have heard the word-- "phrase" call you it? By this day, I know not the phrase, but I will maintain the word with my sword to be a soldierlike word, and a word of exceeding good command, by heaven. "Accommodated," that is when a man is, as they say, accommodated, or when a man is being whereby he may be thought to be accommodated, which is an excellent thing. [Enter Falstaff.] SHALLOW It is very just. Look, here comes good Sir John.--Give me your good hand, give me your Worship's good hand. By my troth, you like well and bear your years very well. Welcome, good Sir John. FALSTAFF I am glad to see you well, good Master Robert Shallow.--Master Sure-card, as I think? SHALLOW No, Sir John. It is my cousin Silence, in commission with me. FALSTAFF Good Master Silence, it well befits you should be of the peace. SILENCE Your good Worship is welcome. FALSTAFF Fie, this is hot weather, gentlemen. Have you provided me here half a dozen sufficient men? SHALLOW Marry, have we, sir. Will you sit? [They sit at a table.] FALSTAFF Let me see them, I beseech you. SHALLOW Where's the roll? Where's the roll? Where's the roll? Let me see, let me see, let me see. So, so, so, so, so. So, so. Yea, marry, sir.--Rafe Mouldy!-- Let them appear as I call, let them do so, let them do so. [Enter Mouldy, followed by Shadow, Wart, Feeble, and Bullcalf.] Let me see, where is Mouldy? MOULDY, [coming forward] Here, an it please you. SHALLOW What think you, Sir John? A good-limbed fellow, young, strong, and of good friends. FALSTAFF Is thy name Mouldy? MOULDY Yea, an 't please you. FALSTAFF 'Tis the more time thou wert used. SHALLOW Ha, ha, ha, most excellent, i' faith! Things that are mouldy lack use. Very singular good, in faith. Well said, Sir John, very well said. FALSTAFF Prick him. [Shallow marks the scroll.] MOULDY I was pricked well enough before, an you could have let me alone. My old dame will be undone now for one to do her husbandry and her drudgery. You need not to have pricked me. There are other men fitter to go out than I. FALSTAFF Go to. Peace, Mouldy. You shall go. Mouldy, it is time you were spent. MOULDY Spent? SHALLOW Peace, fellow, peace. Stand aside. Know you where you are?--For th' other, Sir John. Let me see.--Simon Shadow! FALSTAFF Yea, marry, let me have him to sit under. He's like to be a cold soldier. SHALLOW Where's Shadow? SHADOW, [coming forward] Here, sir. FALSTAFF Shadow, whose son art thou? SHADOW My mother's son, sir. FALSTAFF Thy mother's son! Like enough, and thy father's shadow. So the son of the female is the shadow of the male. It is often so, indeed, but much of the father's substance. SHALLOW Do you like him, Sir John? FALSTAFF Shadow will serve for summer. Prick him, for we have a number of shadows to fill up the muster book. SHALLOW Thomas Wart! FALSTAFF Where's he? WART, [coming forward] Here, sir. FALSTAFF Is thy name Wart? WART Yea, sir. FALSTAFF Thou art a very ragged wart. SHALLOW Shall I prick him down, Sir John? FALSTAFF It were superfluous, for his apparel is built upon his back, and the whole frame stands upon pins. Prick him no more. SHALLOW Ha, ha, ha. You can do it, sir, you can do it. I commend you well.--Francis Feeble! FEEBLE, [coming forward] Here, sir. SHALLOW What trade art thou, Feeble? FEEBLE A woman's tailor, sir. SHALLOW Shall I prick him, sir? FALSTAFF You may, but if he had been a man's tailor, he'd ha' pricked you.--Wilt thou make as many holes in an enemy's battle as thou hast done in a woman's petticoat? FEEBLE I will do my good will, sir. You can have no more. FALSTAFF Well said, good woman's tailor, well said, courageous Feeble. Thou wilt be as valiant as the wrathful dove or most magnanimous mouse.-- Prick the woman's tailor well, Master Shallow, deep, Master Shallow. FEEBLE I would Wart might have gone, sir. FALSTAFF I would thou wert a man's tailor, that thou mightst mend him and make him fit to go. I cannot put him to a private soldier that is the leader of so many thousands. Let that suffice, most forcible Feeble. FEEBLE It shall suffice, sir. FALSTAFF I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble.--Who is the next? SHALLOW Peter Bullcalf o' th' green. FALSTAFF Yea, marry, let's see Bullcalf. BULLCALF, [coming forward] Here, sir. FALSTAFF Fore God, a likely fellow. Come, prick me Bullcalf till he roar again. BULLCALF O Lord, good my lord captain-- FALSTAFF What, dost thou roar before thou art pricked? BULLCALF O Lord, sir, I am a diseased man. FALSTAFF What disease hast thou? BULLCALF A whoreson cold, sir, a cough, sir, which I caught with ringing in the King's affairs upon his coronation day, sir. FALSTAFF Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a gown. We will have away thy cold, and I will take such order that thy friends shall ring for thee.--Is here all? SHALLOW Here is two more called than your number. You must have but four here, sir, and so I pray you go in with me to dinner. FALSTAFF Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot tarry dinner. I am glad to see you, by my troth, Master Shallow. SHALLOW O, Sir John, do you remember since we lay all night in the windmill in Saint George's Field? FALSTAFF No more of that, good Master Shallow, no more of that. SHALLOW Ha, 'twas a merry night. And is Jane Nightwork alive? FALSTAFF She lives, Master Shallow. SHALLOW She never could away with me. FALSTAFF Never, never. She would always say she could not abide Master Shallow. SHALLOW By the Mass, I could anger her to th' heart. She was then a bona roba. Doth she hold her own well? FALSTAFF Old, old, Master Shallow. SHALLOW Nay, she must be old. She cannot choose but be old. Certain, she's old, and had Robin Nightwork by old Nightwork before I came to Clement's Inn. SILENCE That's fifty-five year ago. SHALLOW Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen that that this knight and I have seen!--Ha, Sir John, said I well? FALSTAFF We have heard the chimes at midnight, Master Shallow. SHALLOW That we have, that we have, that we have. In faith, Sir John, we have. Our watchword was "Hem, boys." Come, let's to dinner, come, let's to dinner. Jesus, the days that we have seen! Come, come. [Shallow, Silence, and Falstaff rise and exit.] BULLCALF Good Master Corporate Bardolph, stand my friend, and here's four Harry ten-shillings in French crowns for you. [He gives Bardolph money.] In very truth, sir, I had as lief be hanged, sir, as go. And yet, for mine own part, sir, I do not care, but rather because I am unwilling, and, for mine own part, have a desire to stay with my friends. Else, sir, I did not care, for mine own part, so much. BARDOLPH Go to. Stand aside. MOULDY And, good Master Corporal Captain, for my old dame's sake, stand my friend. She has nobody to do anything about her when I am gone, and she is old and cannot help herself. You shall have forty, sir. [He gives money.] BARDOLPH Go to. Stand aside. FEEBLE By my troth, I care not. A man can die but once. We owe God a death. I'll ne'er bear a base mind. An 't be my destiny, so; an 't be not, so. No man's too good to serve 's prince, and let it go which way it will, he that dies this year is quit for the next. BARDOLPH Well said. Th' art a good fellow. FEEBLE Faith, I'll bear no base mind. [Enter Falstaff and the Justices.] FALSTAFF Come, sir, which men shall I have? SHALLOW Four of which you please. BARDOLPH, [aside to Falstaff] Sir, a word with you. I have three pound to free Mouldy and Bullcalf. FALSTAFF Go to, well. SHALLOW Come, Sir John, which four will you have? FALSTAFF Do you choose for me. SHALLOW Marry, then, Mouldy, Bullcalf, Feeble, and Shadow. FALSTAFF Mouldy and Bullcalf! For you, Mouldy, stay at home till you are past service.--And for your part, Bullcalf, grow till you come unto it. I will none of you. [Mouldy and Bullcalf exit.] SHALLOW Sir John, Sir John, do not yourself wrong. They are your likeliest men, and I would have you served with the best. FALSTAFF Will you tell me, Master Shallow, how to choose a man? Care I for the limb, the thews, the stature, bulk and big assemblance of a man? Give me the spirit, Master Shallow. Here's Wart. You see what a ragged appearance it is. He shall charge you and discharge you with the motion of a pewterer's hammer, come off and on swifter than he that gibbets on the brewer's bucket. And this same half-faced fellow, Shadow, give me this man. He presents no mark to the enemy. The foeman may with as great aim level at the edge of a penknife. And for a retreat, how swiftly will this Feeble, the woman's tailor, run off! O, give me the spare men, and spare me the great ones.--Put me a caliver into Wart's hand, Bardolph. BARDOLPH, [giving Wart a musket] Hold, Wart. Traverse. Thas, thas, thas. FALSTAFF, [to Wart] Come, manage me your caliver: so, very well, go to, very good, exceeding good. O, give me always a little, lean, old, chopped, bald shot. Well said, i' faith, Wart. Th' art a good scab. Hold, there's a tester for thee. [He gives Wart money.] SHALLOW He is not his craft's master. He doth not do it right. I remember at Mile End Green, when I lay at Clement's Inn--I was then Sir Dagonet in Arthur's show--there was a little quiver fellow, and he would manage you his piece thus. [Shallow performs with the musket.] And he would about and about, and come you in, and come you in. "Rah, tah, tah," would he say. "Bounce," would he say, and away again would he go, and again would he come. I shall ne'er see such a fellow. FALSTAFF These fellows will do well, Master Shallow. --God keep you, Master Silence. I will not use many words with you. Fare you well, gentlemen both. I thank you. I must a dozen mile tonight.-- Bardolph, give the soldiers coats. SHALLOW Sir John, the Lord bless you. God prosper your affairs. God send us peace. At your return, visit our house. Let our old acquaintance be renewed. Peradventure I will with you to the court. FALSTAFF Fore God, would you would, Master Shallow. SHALLOW Go to. I have spoke at a word. God keep you. FALSTAFF Fare you well, gentle gentlemen. [Shallow and Silence exit.] On, Bardolph. Lead the men away. [All but Falstaff exit.] As I return, I will fetch off these justices. I do see the bottom of Justice Shallow. Lord, Lord, how subject we old men are to this vice of lying. This same starved justice hath done nothing but prate to me of the wildness of his youth and the feats he hath done about Turnbull Street, and every third word a lie, duer paid to the hearer than the Turk's tribute. I do remember him at Clement's Inn, like a man made after supper of a cheese paring. When he was naked, he was, for all the world, like a forked radish with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife. He was so forlorn that his dimensions to any thick sight were invincible. He was the very genius of famine, yet lecherous as a monkey, and the whores called him "mandrake." He came ever in the rearward of the fashion, and sung those tunes to the overscutched huswives that he heard the carmen whistle, and swore they were his fancies or his good-nights. And now is this Vice's dagger become a squire, and talks as familiarly of John o' Gaunt as if he had been sworn brother to him, and I'll be sworn he ne'er saw him but once in the tilt-yard, and then he burst his head for crowding among the Marshal's men. I saw it and told John o' Gaunt he beat his own name, for you might have thrust him and all his apparel into an eel-skin; the case of a treble hautboy was a mansion for him, a court. And now has he land and beefs. Well, I'll be acquainted with him if I return, and 't shall go hard but I'll make him a philosopher's two stones to me. If the young dace be a bait for the old pike, I see no reason in the law of nature but I may snap at him. Let time shape, and there an end. [He exits.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter the Archbishop of York, Mowbray, Lord Bardolph, Hastings, and their officers within the Forest of Gaultree.] ARCHBISHOP What is this forest called? HASTINGS 'Tis Gaultree Forest, an 't shall please your Grace. ARCHBISHOP Here stand, my lords, and send discoverers forth To know the numbers of our enemies. HASTINGS We have sent forth already. ARCHBISHOP 'Tis well done. My friends and brethren in these great affairs, I must acquaint you that I have received New-dated letters from Northumberland, Their cold intent, tenor, and substance, thus: Here doth he wish his person, with such powers As might hold sortance with his quality, The which he could not levy; whereupon He is retired, to ripe his growing fortunes, To Scotland, and concludes in hearty prayers That your attempts may overlive the hazard And fearful meeting of their opposite. MOWBRAY Thus do the hopes we have in him touch ground And dash themselves to pieces. [Enter Messenger.] HASTINGS Now, what news? MESSENGER West of this forest, scarcely off a mile, In goodly form comes on the enemy, And, by the ground they hide, I judge their number Upon or near the rate of thirty thousand. MOWBRAY The just proportion that we gave them out. Let us sway on and face them in the field. [Enter Westmoreland.] ARCHBISHOP What well-appointed leader fronts us here? MOWBRAY I think it is my Lord of Westmoreland. WESTMORELAND Health and fair greeting from our general, The Prince Lord John and Duke of Lancaster. ARCHBISHOP Say on, my Lord of Westmoreland, in peace, What doth concern your coming. WESTMORELAND Then, my lord, Unto your Grace do I in chief address The substance of my speech. If that rebellion Came like itself, in base and abject routs, Led on by bloody youth, guarded with rage, And countenanced by boys and beggary-- I say, if damned commotion so appeared In his true, native, and most proper shape, You, reverend father, and these noble lords Had not been here to dress the ugly form Of base and bloody insurrection With your fair honors. You, Lord Archbishop, Whose see is by a civil peace maintained, Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath touched, Whose learning and good letters peace hath tutored, Whose white investments figure innocence, The dove and very blessed spirit of peace, Wherefore do you so ill translate yourself Out of the speech of peace, that bears such grace, Into the harsh and boist'rous tongue of war, Turning your books to graves, your ink to blood, Your pens to lances, and your tongue divine To a loud trumpet and a point of war? ARCHBISHOP Wherefore do I this? So the question stands. Briefly, to this end: we are all diseased And with our surfeiting and wanton hours Have brought ourselves into a burning fever, And we must bleed for it; of which disease Our late King Richard, being infected, died. But, my most noble Lord of Westmoreland, I take not on me here as a physician, Nor do I as an enemy to peace Troop in the throngs of military men, But rather show awhile like fearful war To diet rank minds sick of happiness And purge th' obstructions which begin to stop Our very veins of life. Hear me more plainly. I have in equal balance justly weighed What wrongs our arms may do, what wrongs we suffer, And find our griefs heavier than our offenses. We see which way the stream of time doth run And are enforced from our most quiet there By the rough torrent of occasion, And have the summary of all our griefs, When time shall serve, to show in articles; Which long ere this we offered to the King And might by no suit gain our audience. When we are wronged and would unfold our griefs, We are denied access unto his person Even by those men that most have done us wrong. The dangers of the days but newly gone, Whose memory is written on the earth With yet-appearing blood, and the examples Of every minute's instance, present now, Hath put us in these ill-beseeming arms, Not to break peace or any branch of it, But to establish here a peace indeed, Concurring both in name and quality. WESTMORELAND Whenever yet was your appeal denied? Wherein have you been galled by the King? What peer hath been suborned to grate on you, That you should seal this lawless bloody book Of forged rebellion with a seal divine And consecrate commotion's bitter edge? ARCHBISHOP My brother general, the commonwealth, To brother born an household cruelty, I make my quarrel in particular. WESTMORELAND There is no need of any such redress, Or if there were, it not belongs to you. MOWBRAY Why not to him in part, and to us all That feel the bruises of the days before And suffer the condition of these times To lay a heavy and unequal hand Upon our honors? WESTMORELAND O, my good Lord Mowbray, Construe the times to their necessities, And you shall say indeed it is the time, And not the King, that doth you injuries. Yet for your part, it not appears to me Either from the King or in the present time That you should have an inch of any ground To build a grief on. Were you not restored To all the Duke of Norfolk's seigniories, Your noble and right well remembered father's? MOWBRAY What thing, in honor, had my father lost That need to be revived and breathed in me? The King that loved him, as the state stood then, Was force perforce compelled to banish him, And then that Henry Bolingbroke and he, Being mounted and both roused in their seats, Their neighing coursers daring of the spur, Their armed staves in charge, their beavers down, Their eyes of fire sparkling through sights of steel, And the loud trumpet blowing them together, Then, then, when there was nothing could have stayed My father from the breast of Bolingbroke, O, when the King did throw his warder down-- His own life hung upon the staff he threw-- Then threw he down himself and all their lives That by indictment and by dint of sword Have since miscarried under Bolingbroke. WESTMORELAND You speak, Lord Mowbray, now you know not what. The Earl of Hereford was reputed then In England the most valiant gentleman. Who knows on whom fortune would then have smiled? But if your father had been victor there, He ne'er had borne it out of Coventry; For all the country in a general voice Cried hate upon him; and all their prayers and love Were set on Hereford, whom they doted on And blessed and graced, indeed more than the King. But this is mere digression from my purpose. Here come I from our princely general To know your griefs, to tell you from his Grace That he will give you audience; and wherein It shall appear that your demands are just, You shall enjoy them, everything set off That might so much as think you enemies. MOWBRAY But he hath forced us to compel this offer, And it proceeds from policy, not love. WESTMORELAND Mowbray, you overween to take it so. This offer comes from mercy, not from fear. For, lo, within a ken our army lies, Upon mine honor, all too confident To give admittance to a thought of fear. Our battle is more full of names than yours, Our men more perfect in the use of arms, Our armor all as strong, our cause the best. Then reason will our hearts should be as good. Say you not then our offer is compelled. MOWBRAY Well, by my will, we shall admit no parley. WESTMORELAND That argues but the shame of your offense. A rotten case abides no handling. HASTINGS Hath the Prince John a full commission, In very ample virtue of his father, To hear and absolutely to determine Of what conditions we shall stand upon? WESTMORELAND That is intended in the General's name. I muse you make so slight a question. ARCHBISHOP, [giving Westmoreland a paper] Then take, my Lord of Westmoreland, this schedule, For this contains our general grievances. Each several article herein redressed, All members of our cause, both here and hence That are insinewed to this action, Acquitted by a true substantial form And present execution of our wills To us and to our purposes confined, We come within our awful banks again And knit our powers to the arm of peace. WESTMORELAND This will I show the General. Please you, lords, In sight of both our battles we may meet, And either end in peace, which God so frame, Or to the place of difference call the swords Which must decide it. ARCHBISHOP My lord, we will do so. [Westmoreland exits.] MOWBRAY There is a thing within my bosom tells me That no conditions of our peace can stand. HASTINGS Fear you not that. If we can make our peace Upon such large terms and so absolute As our conditions shall consist upon, Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains. MOWBRAY Yea, but our valuation shall be such That every slight and false-derived cause, Yea, every idle, nice, and wanton reason, Shall to the King taste of this action, That, were our royal faiths martyrs in love, We shall be winnowed with so rough a wind That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff, And good from bad find no partition. ARCHBISHOP No, no, my lord. Note this: the King is weary Of dainty and such picking grievances, For he hath found to end one doubt by death Revives two greater in the heirs of life; And therefore will he wipe his tables clean And keep no telltale to his memory That may repeat and history his loss To new remembrance. For full well he knows He cannot so precisely weed this land As his misdoubts present occasion; His foes are so enrooted with his friends That, plucking to unfix an enemy, He doth unfasten so and shake a friend; So that this land, like an offensive wife That hath enraged him on to offer strokes, As he is striking holds his infant up And hangs resolved correction in the arm That was upreared to execution. HASTINGS Besides, the King hath wasted all his rods On late offenders, that he now doth lack The very instruments of chastisement, So that his power, like to a fangless lion, May offer but not hold. ARCHBISHOP 'Tis very true, And therefore be assured, my good Lord Marshal, If we do now make our atonement well, Our peace will, like a broken limb united, Grow stronger for the breaking. MOWBRAY Be it so. Here is returned my Lord of Westmoreland. [Enter Westmoreland.] WESTMORELAND, [to the Archbishop] The Prince is here at hand. Pleaseth your Lordship To meet his Grace just distance 'tween our armies. [Enter Prince John and his army.] MOWBRAY, [to the Archbishop] Your Grace of York, in God's name then set forward. ARCHBISHOP Before, and greet his Grace.--My lord, we come. [All move forward.] JOHN OF LANCASTER You are well encountered here, my cousin Mowbray.-- Good day to you, gentle Lord Archbishop,-- And so to you, Lord Hastings, and to all.-- My Lord of York, it better showed with you When that your flock, assembled by the bell, Encircled you to hear with reverence Your exposition on the holy text Than now to see you here, an iron man talking, Cheering a rout of rebels with your drum, Turning the word to sword, and life to death. That man that sits within a monarch's heart And ripens in the sunshine of his favor, Would he abuse the countenance of the King, Alack, what mischiefs might he set abroach In shadow of such greatness! With you, Lord Bishop, It is even so. Who hath not heard it spoken How deep you were within the books of God, To us the speaker in His parliament, To us th' imagined voice of God Himself, The very opener and intelligencer Between the grace, the sanctities, of heaven, And our dull workings? O, who shall believe But you misuse the reverence of your place, Employ the countenance and grace of heaven As a false favorite doth his prince's name, In deeds dishonorable? You have ta'en up, Under the counterfeited zeal of God, The subjects of His substitute, my father, And both against the peace of heaven and him Have here up-swarmed them. ARCHBISHOP Good my Lord of Lancaster, I am not here against your father's peace, But, as I told my Lord of Westmoreland, The time misordered doth, in common sense, Crowd us and crush us to this monstrous form To hold our safety up. I sent your Grace The parcels and particulars of our grief, The which hath been with scorn shoved from the court, Whereon this Hydra son of war is born, Whose dangerous eyes may well be charmed asleep With grant of our most just and right desires, And true obedience, of this madness cured, Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty. MOWBRAY If not, we ready are to try our fortunes To the last man. HASTINGS And though we here fall down, We have supplies to second our attempt; If they miscarry, theirs shall second them, And so success of mischief shall be born, And heir from heir shall hold his quarrel up Whiles England shall have generation. JOHN OF LANCASTER You are too shallow, Hastings, much too shallow To sound the bottom of the after-times. WESTMORELAND Pleaseth your Grace to answer them directly How far forth you do like their articles. JOHN OF LANCASTER I like them all, and do allow them well, And swear here by the honor of my blood My father's purposes have been mistook, And some about him have too lavishly Wrested his meaning and authority. [To the Archbishop.] My lord, these griefs shall be with speed redressed; Upon my soul, they shall. If this may please you, Discharge your powers unto their several counties, As we will ours, and here, between the armies, Let's drink together friendly and embrace, That all their eyes may bear those tokens home Of our restored love and amity. ARCHBISHOP I take your princely word for these redresses. JOHN OF LANCASTER I give it you, and will maintain my word, And thereupon I drink unto your Grace. [The Leaders of both armies begin to drink together.] HASTINGS, [to an Officer] Go, captain, and deliver to the army This news of peace. Let them have pay, and part. I know it will well please them. Hie thee, captain. [Officer exits.] ARCHBISHOP, [toasting Westmoreland] To you, my noble Lord of Westmoreland. WESTMORELAND, [returning the toast] I pledge your Grace, and if you knew what pains I have bestowed to breed this present peace, You would drink freely. But my love to you Shall show itself more openly hereafter. ARCHBISHOP I do not doubt you. WESTMORELAND I am glad of it.-- Health to my lord and gentle cousin, Mowbray. MOWBRAY You wish me health in very happy season, For I am on the sudden something ill. ARCHBISHOP Against ill chances men are ever merry, But heaviness foreruns the good event. WESTMORELAND Therefore be merry, coz, since sudden sorrow Serves to say thus: "Some good thing comes tomorrow." ARCHBISHOP Believe me, I am passing light in spirit. MOWBRAY So much the worse if your own rule be true. [Shout within.] JOHN OF LANCASTER The word of peace is rendered. Hark how they shout. MOWBRAY This had been cheerful after victory. ARCHBISHOP A peace is of the nature of a conquest, For then both parties nobly are subdued, And neither party loser. JOHN OF LANCASTER, [to Westmoreland] Go, my lord, And let our army be discharged too. [Westmoreland exits.] [To the Archbishop.] And, good my lord, so please you, let our trains March by us, that we may peruse the men We should have coped withal. ARCHBISHOP Go, good Lord Hastings, And ere they be dismissed, let them march by. [Hastings exits.] JOHN OF LANCASTER I trust, lords, we shall lie tonight together. [Enter Westmoreland.] Now, cousin, wherefore stands our army still? WESTMORELAND The leaders, having charge from you to stand, Will not go off until they hear you speak. JOHN OF LANCASTER They know their duties. [Enter Hastings.] HASTINGS, [to the Archbishop] My lord, our army is dispersed already. Like youthful steers unyoked, they take their courses East, west, north, south, or, like a school broke up, Each hurries toward his home and sporting-place. WESTMORELAND Good tidings, my Lord Hastings, for the which I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason.-- And you, Lord Archbishop, and you, Lord Mowbray, Of capital treason I attach you both. MOWBRAY Is this proceeding just and honorable? WESTMORELAND Is your assembly so? ARCHBISHOP Will you thus break your faith? JOHN OF LANCASTER I pawned thee none. I promised you redress of these same grievances Whereof you did complain, which, by mine honor, I will perform with a most Christian care. But for you rebels, look to taste the due Meet for rebellion and such acts as yours. Most shallowly did you these arms commence, Fondly brought here, and foolishly sent hence.-- Strike up our drums; pursue the scattered stray. God, and not we, hath safely fought today.-- Some guard these traitors to the block of death, Treason's true bed and yielder-up of breath. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Alarum. Excursions. Enter Falstaff and Colevile.] FALSTAFF What's your name, sir? Of what condition are you, and of what place, I pray? COLEVILE I am a knight, sir, and my name is Colevile of the Dale. FALSTAFF Well then, Colevile is your name, a knight is your degree, and your place the Dale. Colevile shall be still your name, a traitor your degree, and the dungeon your place, a place deep enough so shall you be still Colevile of the Dale. COLEVILE Are not you Sir John Falstaff? FALSTAFF As good a man as he, sir, whoe'er I am. Do you yield, sir, or shall I sweat for you? If I do sweat, they are the drops of thy lovers and they weep for thy death. Therefore rouse up fear and trembling, and do observance to my mercy. COLEVILE I think you are Sir John Falstaff, and in that thought yield me. FALSTAFF I have a whole school of tongues in this belly of mine, and not a tongue of them all speaks any other word but my name. An I had but a belly of any indifferency, I were simply the most active fellow in Europe. My womb, my womb, my womb undoes me. Here comes our general. [Enter John, Westmoreland, and the rest.] JOHN OF LANCASTER The heat is past. Follow no further now. Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland. [Westmoreland exits. Retreat is sounded.] Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this while? When everything is ended, then you come. These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life, One time or other break some gallows' back. FALSTAFF I would be sorry, my lord, but it should be thus. I never knew yet but rebuke and check was the reward of valor. Do you think me a swallow, an arrow, or a bullet? Have I in my poor and old motion the expedition of thought? I have speeded hither with the very extremest inch of possibility. I have foundered ninescore and odd posts, and here, travel-tainted as I am, have in my pure and immaculate valor taken Sir John Colevile of the Dale, a most furious knight and valorous enemy. But what of that? He saw me and yielded, that I may justly say, with the hook-nosed fellow of Rome, "There, cousin, I came, saw, and overcame." JOHN OF LANCASTER It was more of his courtesy than your deserving. FALSTAFF I know not. Here he is, and here I yield him. And I beseech your Grace let it be booked with the rest of this day's deeds, or, by the Lord, I will have it in a particular ballad else, with mine own picture on the top on 't, Colevile kissing my foot; to the which course if I be enforced, if you do not all show like gilt twopences to me, and I in the clear sky of fame o'ershine you as much as the full moon doth the cinders of the element (which show like pins' heads to her), believe not the word of the noble. Therefore let me have right, and let desert mount. JOHN OF LANCASTER Thine's too heavy to mount. FALSTAFF Let it shine, then. JOHN OF LANCASTER Thine's too thick to shine. FALSTAFF Let it do something, my good lord, that may do me good, and call it what you will. JOHN OF LANCASTER Is thy name Colevile? COLEVILE It is, my lord. JOHN OF LANCASTER A famous rebel art thou, Colevile. FALSTAFF And a famous true subject took him. COLEVILE I am, my lord, but as my betters are That led me hither. Had they been ruled by me, You should have won them dearer than you have. FALSTAFF I know not how they sold themselves, but thou, like a kind fellow, gavest thyself away gratis, and I thank thee for thee. [Enter Westmoreland.] JOHN OF LANCASTER Now, have you left pursuit? WESTMORELAND Retreat is made and execution stayed. JOHN OF LANCASTER Send Colevile with his confederates To York, to present execution.-- Blunt, lead him hence, and see you guard him sure. [Blunt exits with Colevile.] And now dispatch we toward the court, my lords. I hear the King my father is sore sick. Our news shall go before us to his Majesty, [To Westmoreland.] Which, cousin, you shall bear to comfort him, And we with sober speed will follow you. FALSTAFF My lord, I beseech you give me leave to go through Gloucestershire, and, when you come to court, stand my good lord, pray, in your good report. JOHN OF LANCASTER Fare you well, Falstaff. I, in my condition, Shall better speak of you than you deserve. [All but Falstaff exit.] FALSTAFF I would you had but the wit; 'twere better than your dukedom. Good faith, this same young sober-blooded boy doth not love me, nor a man cannot make him laugh. But that's no marvel; he drinks no wine. There's never none of these demure boys come to any proof, for thin drink doth so overcool their blood, and making many fish meals, that they fall into a kind of male green-sickness, and then, when they marry, they get wenches. They are generally fools and cowards, which some of us should be too, but for inflammation. A good sherris sack hath a two-fold operation in it. It ascends me into the brain, dries me there all the foolish and dull and crudy vapors which environ it, makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes, which, delivered o'er to the voice, the tongue, which is the birth, becomes excellent wit. The second property of your excellent sherris is the warming of the blood, which, before cold and settled, left the liver white and pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity and cowardice. But the sherris warms it and makes it course from the inwards to the parts' extremes. It illumineth the face, which as a beacon gives warning to all the rest of this little kingdom, man, to arm; and then the vital commoners and inland petty spirits muster me all to their captain, the heart, who, great and puffed up with this retinue, doth any deed of courage, and this valor comes of sherris. So that skill in the weapon is nothing without sack, for that sets it a-work; and learning a mere hoard of gold kept by a devil till sack commences it and sets it in act and use. Hereof comes it that Prince Harry is valiant, for the cold blood he did naturally inherit of his father he hath, like lean, sterile, and bare land, manured, husbanded, and tilled with excellent endeavor of drinking good and good store of fertile sherris, that he is become very hot and valiant. If I had a thousand sons, the first human principle I would teach them should be to forswear thin potations and to addict themselves to sack. [Enter Bardolph.] How now, Bardolph? BARDOLPH The army is discharged all and gone. FALSTAFF Let them go. I'll through Gloucestershire, and there will I visit Master Robert Shallow, Esquire. I have him already temp'ring between my finger and my thumb, and shortly will I seal with him. Come away. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter the King in a chair, Warwick, Thomas Duke of Clarence, Humphrey Duke of Gloucester, and Attendants.] KING Now, lords, if God doth give successful end To this debate that bleedeth at our doors, We will our youth lead on to higher fields And draw no swords but what are sanctified. Our navy is addressed, our power collected, Our substitutes in absence well invested, And everything lies level to our wish. Only we want a little personal strength; And pause us till these rebels now afoot Come underneath the yoke of government. WARWICK Both which we doubt not but your Majesty Shall soon enjoy. KING Humphrey, my son of Gloucester, where is the Prince your brother? HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER I think he's gone to hunt, my lord, at Windsor. KING And how accompanied? HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER I do not know, my lord. KING Is not his brother Thomas of Clarence with him? HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER No, my good lord, he is in presence here. THOMAS OF CLARENCE, [coming forward] What would my lord and father? KING Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence. How chance thou art not with the Prince thy brother? He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas. Thou hast a better place in his affection Than all thy brothers. Cherish it, my boy, And noble offices thou mayst effect Of mediation, after I am dead, Between his greatness and thy other brethren. Therefore omit him not, blunt not his love, Nor lose the good advantage of his grace By seeming cold or careless of his will. For he is gracious if he be observed; He hath a tear for pity, and a hand Open as day for melting charity; Yet notwithstanding, being incensed he is flint, As humorous as winter, and as sudden As flaws congealed in the spring of day. His temper therefore must be well observed. Chide him for faults, and do it reverently, When you perceive his blood inclined to mirth; But, being moody, give him time and scope Till that his passions, like a whale on ground, Confound themselves with working. Learn this, Thomas, And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends, A hoop of gold to bind thy brothers in, That the united vessel of their blood, Mingled with venom of suggestion (As, force perforce, the age will pour it in), Shall never leak, though it do work as strong As aconitum or rash gunpowder. THOMAS OF CLARENCE I shall observe him with all care and love. KING Why art thou not at Windsor with him, Thomas? THOMAS OF CLARENCE He is not there today; he dines in London. KING And how accompanied? Canst thou tell that? THOMAS OF CLARENCE With Poins and other his continual followers. KING Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds, And he, the noble image of my youth, Is overspread with them; therefore my grief Stretches itself beyond the hour of death. The blood weeps from my heart when I do shape, In forms imaginary, th' unguided days And rotten times that you shall look upon When I am sleeping with my ancestors. For when his headstrong riot hath no curb, When rage and hot blood are his counsellors, When means and lavish manners meet together, O, with what wings shall his affections fly Towards fronting peril and opposed decay! WARWICK My gracious lord, you look beyond him quite. The Prince but studies his companions Like a strange tongue, wherein, to gain the language, 'Tis needful that the most immodest word Be looked upon and learned; which, once attained, Your Highness knows, comes to no further use But to be known and hated. So, like gross terms, The Prince will, in the perfectness of time, Cast off his followers, and their memory Shall as a pattern or a measure live, By which his Grace must mete the lives of others, Turning past evils to advantages. KING 'Tis seldom when the bee doth leave her comb In the dead carrion. [Enter Westmoreland.] Who's here? Westmoreland? WESTMORELAND Health to my sovereign, and new happiness Added to that that I am to deliver. Prince John your son doth kiss your Grace's hand. Mowbray, the Bishop Scroop, Hastings, and all Are brought to the correction of your law. There is not now a rebel's sword unsheathed, But peace puts forth her olive everywhere. The manner how this action hath been borne Here at more leisure may your Highness read With every course in his particular. [He gives the King a paper.] KING O Westmoreland, thou art a summer bird, Which ever in the haunch of winter sings The lifting up of day. [Enter Harcourt.] Look, here's more news. HARCOURT From enemies heavens keep your Majesty, And when they stand against you, may they fall As those that I am come to tell you of. The Earl Northumberland and the Lord Bardolph, With a great power of English and of Scots, Are by the shrieve of Yorkshire overthrown. The manner and true order of the fight This packet, please it you, contains at large. [He gives the King papers.] KING And wherefore should these good news make me sick? Will Fortune never come with both hands full, But write her fair words still in foulest letters? She either gives a stomach and no food-- Such are the poor, in health--or else a feast And takes away the stomach--such are the rich, That have abundance and enjoy it not. I should rejoice now at this happy news, And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy. O, me! Come near me, now I am much ill. HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER Comfort, your Majesty. THOMAS OF CLARENCE O, my royal father! WESTMORELAND My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself, look up. WARWICK Be patient, princes. You do know these fits Are with his Highness very ordinary. Stand from him, give him air. He'll straight be well. THOMAS OF CLARENCE No, no, he cannot long hold out these pangs. Th' incessant care and labor of his mind Hath wrought the mure that should confine it in So thin that life looks through and will break out. HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER The people fear me, for they do observe Unfathered heirs and loathly births of nature. The seasons change their manners, as the year Had found some months asleep and leapt them over. THOMAS OF CLARENCE The river hath thrice flowed, no ebb between, And the old folk, time's doting chronicles, Say it did so a little time before That our great-grandsire, Edward, sicked and died. WARWICK Speak lower, princes, for the King recovers. HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER This apoplexy will certain be his end. KING I pray you take me up and bear me hence Into some other chamber. Softly, pray. [The King is carried to a bed on another part of the stage.] Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends, Unless some dull and favorable hand Will whisper music to my weary spirit. WARWICK, [to an Attendant] Call for the music in the other room. KING Set me the crown upon my pillow here. [The crown is placed on the bed.] THOMAS OF CLARENCE, [aside to the others] His eye is hollow, and he changes much. WARWICK Less noise, less noise. [Enter Prince Harry.] PRINCE Who saw the Duke of Clarence? THOMAS OF CLARENCE, [weeping] I am here, brother, full of heaviness. PRINCE How now, rain within doors, and none abroad? How doth the King? HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER Exceeding ill. PRINCE Heard he the good news yet? Tell it him. HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER He altered much upon the hearing it. PRINCE If he be sick with joy, he'll recover without physic. WARWICK Not so much noise, my lords.--Sweet prince, speak low. The King your father is disposed to sleep. THOMAS OF CLARENCE Let us withdraw into the other room. WARWICK Will 't please your Grace to go along with us? PRINCE No, I will sit and watch here by the King. [All but Prince and King exit.] Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow, Being so troublesome a bedfellow? O polished perturbation, golden care, That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide To many a watchful night! Sleep with it now; Yet not so sound and half so deeply sweet As he whose brow with homely biggen bound Snores out the watch of night. O majesty, When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit Like a rich armor worn in heat of day, That scald'st with safety. By his gates of breath There lies a downy feather which stirs not; Did he suspire, that light and weightless down Perforce must move. My gracious lord, my father, This sleep is sound indeed. This is a sleep That from this golden rigol hath divorced So many English kings. Thy due from me Is tears and heavy sorrows of the blood, Which nature, love, and filial tenderness Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously. My due from thee is this imperial crown, Which, as immediate from thy place and blood, Derives itself to me. [He puts on the crown.] Lo, where it sits, Which God shall guard. And, put the world's whole strength Into one giant arm, it shall not force This lineal honor from me. This from thee Will I to mine leave, as 'tis left to me. [He exits with the crown.] KING, [rising up in his bed] Warwick! Gloucester! Clarence! [Enter Warwick, Gloucester, Clarence, and others.] THOMAS OF CLARENCE Doth the King call? WARWICK What would your Majesty? How fares your Grace? KING Why did you leave me here alone, my lords? THOMAS OF CLARENCE We left the Prince my brother here, my liege, Who undertook to sit and watch by you. KING The Prince of Wales? Where is he? Let me see him. He is not here. WARWICK This door is open. He is gone this way. HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER He came not through the chamber where we stayed. KING Where is the crown? Who took it from my pillow? WARWICK When we withdrew, my liege, we left it here. KING The Prince hath ta'en it hence. Go seek him out. Is he so hasty that he doth suppose my sleep my death? Find him, my Lord of Warwick. Chide him hither. [Warwick exits.] This part of his conjoins with my disease And helps to end me. See, sons, what things you are, How quickly nature falls into revolt When gold becomes her object! For this the foolish overcareful fathers Have broke their sleep with thoughts, Their brains with care, their bones with industry. For this they have engrossed and piled up The cankered heaps of strange-achieved gold. For this they have been thoughtful to invest Their sons with arts and martial exercises-- When, like the bee, tolling from every flower The virtuous sweets, Our thighs packed with wax, our mouths with honey, We bring it to the hive and, like the bees, Are murdered for our pains. This bitter taste Yields his engrossments to the ending father. [Enter Warwick.] Now where is he that will not stay so long Till his friend sickness hath determined me? WARWICK My lord, I found the Prince in the next room, Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks, With such a deep demeanor in great sorrow That tyranny, which never quaffed but blood, Would, by beholding him, have washed his knife With gentle eyedrops. He is coming hither. KING But wherefore did he take away the crown? [Enter Prince Harry with the crown.] Lo where he comes.--Come hither to me, Harry.-- Depart the chamber. Leave us here alone. [Gloucester, Clarence, Warwick, and others exit.] PRINCE I never thought to hear you speak again. KING Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought. I stay too long by thee; I weary thee. Dost thou so hunger for mine empty chair That thou wilt needs invest thee with my honors Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth, Thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm thee. Stay but a little, for my cloud of dignity Is held from falling with so weak a wind That it will quickly drop. My day is dim. Thou hast stol'n that which after some few hours Were thine without offense, and at my death Thou hast sealed up my expectation. Thy life did manifest thou loved'st me not, And thou wilt have me die assured of it. Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts, Whom thou hast whetted on thy stony heart To stab at half an hour of my life. What, canst thou not forbear me half an hour? Then get thee gone, and dig my grave thyself, And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear That thou art crowned, not that I am dead. Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse Be drops of balm to sanctify thy head; Only compound me with forgotten dust. Give that which gave thee life unto the worms. Pluck down my officers, break my decrees, For now a time is come to mock at form. Harry the Fifth is crowned. Up, vanity, Down, royal state, all you sage councillors, hence, And to the English court assemble now, From every region, apes of idleness. Now, neighbor confines, purge you of your scum. Have you a ruffian that will swear, drink, dance, Revel the night, rob, murder, and commit The oldest sins the newest kind of ways? Be happy, he will trouble you no more. England shall double gild his treble guilt. England shall give him office, honor, might, For the fifth Harry from curbed license plucks The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog Shall flesh his tooth on every innocent. O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows! When that my care could not withhold thy riots, What wilt thou do when riot is thy care? O, thou wilt be a wilderness again, Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants. PRINCE, [placing the crown on the pillow] O pardon me, my liege! But for my tears, The moist impediments unto my speech, I had forestalled this dear and deep rebuke Ere you with grief had spoke and I had heard The course of it so far. There is your crown, And He that wears the crown immortally Long guard it yours. [He kneels.] If I affect it more Than as your honor and as your renown, Let me no more from this obedience rise, Which my most inward true and duteous spirit Teacheth this prostrate and exterior bending. God witness with me, when I here came in And found no course of breath within your Majesty, How cold it struck my heart! If I do feign, O, let me in my present wildness die And never live to show th' incredulous world The noble change that I have purposed. Coming to look on you, thinking you dead, And dead almost, my liege, to think you were, I spake unto this crown as having sense, And thus upbraided it: "The care on thee depending Hath fed upon the body of my father; Therefore thou best of gold art worst of gold. Other, less fine in carat, is more precious, Preserving life in med'cine potable; But thou, most fine, most honored, most renowned, Hast eat thy bearer up." Thus, my most royal liege, Accusing it, I put it on my head To try with it, as with an enemy That had before my face murdered my father, The quarrel of a true inheritor. But if it did infect my blood with joy Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride, If any rebel or vain spirit of mine Did with the least affection of a welcome Give entertainment to the might of it, Let God forever keep it from my head And make me as the poorest vassal is That doth with awe and terror kneel to it. KING O my son, God put it in thy mind to take it hence That thou mightst win the more thy father's love, Pleading so wisely in excuse of it. Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed And hear, I think, the very latest counsel That ever I shall breathe. [The Prince rises from his knees and sits near the bed.] God knows, my son, By what bypaths and indirect crook'd ways I met this crown, and I myself know well How troublesome it sat upon my head. To thee it shall descend with better quiet, Better opinion, better confirmation, For all the soil of the achievement goes With me into the earth. It seemed in me But as an honor snatched with boist'rous hand, And I had many living to upbraid My gain of it by their assistances, Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed, Wounding supposed peace. All these bold fears Thou seest with peril I have answered, For all my reign hath been but as a scene Acting that argument. And now my death Changes the mood, for what in me was purchased Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort. So thou the garland wear'st successively. Yet though thou stand'st more sure than I could do, Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green, And all my friends, which thou must make thy friends, Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out, By whose fell working I was first advanced And by whose power I well might lodge a fear To be again displaced; which to avoid, I cut them off and had a purpose now To lead out many to the Holy Land, Lest rest and lying still might make them look Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry, Be it thy course to busy giddy minds With foreign quarrels, that action, hence borne out, May waste the memory of the former days. More would I, but my lungs are wasted so That strength of speech is utterly denied me. How I came by the crown, O God forgive, And grant it may with thee in true peace live. PRINCE My gracious liege, You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me. Then plain and right must my possession be, Which I with more than with a common pain 'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain. [Enter John of Lancaster and others.] KING Look, look, here comes my John of Lancaster. JOHN OF LANCASTER Health, peace, and happiness to my royal father. KING Thou bring'st me happiness and peace, son John, But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown From this bare withered trunk. Upon thy sight My worldly business makes a period. Where is my Lord of Warwick? PRINCE My Lord of Warwick. [Enter Warwick.] KING Doth any name particular belong Unto the lodging where I first did swoon? WARWICK 'Tis called Jerusalem, my noble lord. KING Laud be to God! Even there my life must end. It hath been prophesied to me many years, I should not die but in Jerusalem, Which vainly I supposed the Holy Land. But bear me to that chamber; there I'll lie. In that Jerusalem shall Harry die. [They exit.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Shallow, Falstaff, Page, and Bardolph.] SHALLOW By cock and pie, sir, you shall not away tonight.--What, Davy, I say! FALSTAFF You must excuse me, Master Robert Shallow. SHALLOW I will not excuse you. You shall not be excused. Excuses shall not be admitted. There is no excuse shall serve. You shall not be excused.-- Why, Davy! [Enter Davy.] DAVY Here, sir. SHALLOW Davy, Davy, Davy, Davy, let me see, Davy, let me see, Davy, let me see. Yea, marry, William cook, bid him come hither.--Sir John, you shall not be excused. DAVY Marry, sir, thus: those precepts cannot be served. And again, sir: shall we sow the hade land with wheat? SHALLOW With red wheat, Davy. But for William cook, are there no young pigeons? DAVY Yes, sir. Here is now the smith's note for shoeing and plow irons. [He gives Shallow a paper.] SHALLOW Let it be cast and paid.--Sir John, you shall not be excused. DAVY Now, sir, a new link to the bucket must needs be had. And, sir, do you mean to stop any of William's wages about the sack he lost the other day at Hinckley Fair? SHALLOW He shall answer it. Some pigeons, Davy, a couple of short-legged hens, a joint of mutton, and any pretty little tiny kickshaws, tell William cook. [Shallow and Davy walk aside.] DAVY Doth the man of war stay all night, sir? SHALLOW Yea, Davy, I will use him well. A friend i' th' court is better than a penny in purse. Use his men well, Davy, for they are arrant knaves and will backbite. DAVY No worse than they are back-bitten, sir, for they have marvelous foul linen. SHALLOW Well-conceited, Davy. About thy business, Davy. DAVY I beseech you, sir, to countenance William Visor of Woncot against Clement Perkes o' th' hill. SHALLOW There is many complaints, Davy, against that Visor. That Visor is an arrant knave, on my knowledge. DAVY I grant your Worship that he is a knave, sir, but yet, God forbid, sir, but a knave should have some countenance at his friend's request. An honest man, sir, is able to speak for himself when a knave is not. I have served your Worship truly, sir, this eight years; an I cannot once or twice in a quarter bear out a knave against an honest man, I have but a very little credit with your Worship. The knave is mine honest friend, sir; therefore I beseech you let him be countenanced. SHALLOW Go to, I say, he shall have no wrong. Look about, Davy. [Davy exits.] Where are you, Sir John? Come, come, come, off with your boots.--Give me your hand, Master Bardolph. BARDOLPH I am glad to see your Worship. SHALLOW I thank thee with all my heart, kind Master Bardolph, [(to Page)] and welcome, my tall fellow.--Come, Sir John. FALSTAFF I'll follow you, good Master Robert Shallow. [Shallow exits.] Bardolph, look to our horses. [Bardolph and Page exit.] If I were sawed into quantities, I should make four dozen of such bearded hermits' staves as Master Shallow. It is a wonderful thing to see the semblable coherence of his men's spirits and his. They, by observing of him, do bear themselves like foolish justices; he, by conversing with them, is turned into a justice-like servingman. Their spirits are so married in conjunction with the participation of society that they flock together in consent like so many wild geese. If I had a suit to Master Shallow, I would humor his men with the imputation of being near their master; if to his men, I would curry with Master Shallow that no man could better command his servants. It is certain that either wise bearing or ignorant carriage is caught, as men take diseases, one of another. Therefore let men take heed of their company. I will devise matter enough out of this Shallow to keep Prince Harry in continual laughter the wearing out of six fashions, which is four terms, or two actions, and he shall laugh without intervallums. O, it is much that a lie with a slight oath and a jest with a sad brow will do with a fellow that never had the ache in his shoulders. O, you shall see him laugh till his face be like a wet cloak ill laid up. SHALLOW, [within] Sir John. FALSTAFF I come, Master Shallow, I come, Master Shallow. [He exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Warwick and Lord Chief Justice.] WARWICK How now, my Lord Chief Justice, whither away? CHIEF JUSTICE How doth the King? WARWICK Exceeding well. His cares are now all ended. CHIEF JUSTICE I hope, not dead. WARWICK He's walked the way of nature, And to our purposes he lives no more. CHIEF JUSTICE I would his Majesty had called me with him. The service that I truly did his life Hath left me open to all injuries. WARWICK Indeed, I think the young king loves you not. CHIEF JUSTICE I know he doth not, and do arm myself To welcome the condition of the time, Which cannot look more hideously upon me Than I have drawn it in my fantasy. [Enter John, Thomas, and Humphrey.] WARWICK Here come the heavy issue of dead Harry. O, that the living Harry had the temper Of he the worst of these three gentlemen! How many nobles then should hold their places That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort! CHIEF JUSTICE O God, I fear all will be overturned. JOHN OF LANCASTER Good morrow, cousin Warwick, good morrow. HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER, THOMAS OF CLARENCE Good morrow, cousin. JOHN OF LANCASTER We meet like men that had forgot to speak. WARWICK We do remember, but our argument Is all too heavy to admit much talk. JOHN OF LANCASTER Well, peace be with him that hath made us heavy. CHIEF JUSTICE Peace be with us, lest we be heavier. HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER O, good my lord, you have lost a friend indeed, And I dare swear you borrow not that face Of seeming sorrow; it is sure your own. JOHN OF LANCASTER, [to the Chief Justice] Though no man be assured what grace to find, You stand in coldest expectation. I am the sorrier; would 'twere otherwise. THOMAS OF CLARENCE Well, you must now speak Sir John Falstaff fair, Which swims against your stream of quality. CHIEF JUSTICE Sweet princes, what I did I did in honor, Led by th' impartial conduct of my soul; And never shall you see that I will beg A ragged and forestalled remission. If truth and upright innocency fail me, I'll to the king my master that is dead And tell him who hath sent me after him. [Enter the Prince, as Henry V, and Blunt.] WARWICK Here comes the Prince. CHIEF JUSTICE Good morrow, and God save your Majesty. PRINCE This new and gorgeous garment majesty Sits not so easy on me as you think.-- Brothers, you mix your sadness with some fear. This is the English, not the Turkish court; Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds, But Harry Harry. Yet be sad, good brothers, For, by my faith, it very well becomes you. Sorrow so royally in you appears That I will deeply put the fashion on And wear it in my heart. Why then, be sad. But entertain no more of it, good brothers, Than a joint burden laid upon us all. For me, by heaven, I bid you be assured, I'll be your father and your brother too. Let me but bear your love, I'll bear your cares. Yet weep that Harry's dead, and so will I, But Harry lives that shall convert those tears By number into hours of happiness. BROTHERS We hope no otherwise from your Majesty. PRINCE You all look strangely on me. [To the Chief Justice.] And you most. You are, I think, assured I love you not. CHIEF JUSTICE I am assured, if I be measured rightly, Your Majesty hath no just cause to hate me. PRINCE No? How might a prince of my great hopes forget So great indignities you laid upon me? What, rate, rebuke, and roughly send to prison Th' immediate heir of England? Was this easy? May this be washed in Lethe and forgotten? CHIEF JUSTICE I then did use the person of your father; The image of his power lay then in me. And in th' administration of his law, Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth, Your Highness pleased to forget my place, The majesty and power of law and justice, The image of the King whom I presented, And struck me in my very seat of judgment, Whereon, as an offender to your father, I gave bold way to my authority And did commit you. If the deed were ill, Be you contented, wearing now the garland, To have a son set your decrees at nought? To pluck down justice from your awful bench? To trip the course of law and blunt the sword That guards the peace and safety of your person? Nay more, to spurn at your most royal image And mock your workings in a second body? Question your royal thoughts, make the case yours; Be now the father and propose a son, Hear your own dignity so much profaned, See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted, Behold yourself so by a son disdained, And then imagine me taking your part And in your power soft silencing your son. After this cold considerance, sentence me, And, as you are a king, speak in your state What I have done that misbecame my place, My person, or my liege's sovereignty. PRINCE You are right, justice, and you weigh this well. Therefore still bear the balance and the sword. And I do wish your honors may increase Till you do live to see a son of mine Offend you and obey you as I did. So shall I live to speak my father's words: "Happy am I that have a man so bold That dares do justice on my proper son; And not less happy, having such a son That would deliver up his greatness so Into the hands of justice." You did commit me, For which I do commit into your hand Th' unstained sword that you have used to bear, With this remembrance: that you use the same With the like bold, just, and impartial spirit As you have done 'gainst me. There is my hand. [They clasp hands.] You shall be as a father to my youth, My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine ear, And I will stoop and humble my intents To your well-practiced wise directions.-- And, princes all, believe me, I beseech you: My father is gone wild into his grave, For in his tomb lie my affections, And with his spirits sadly I survive To mock the expectation of the world, To frustrate prophecies, and to raze out Rotten opinion, who hath writ me down After my seeming. The tide of blood in me Hath proudly flowed in vanity till now. Now doth it turn and ebb back to the sea, Where it shall mingle with the state of floods And flow henceforth in formal majesty. Now call we our high court of parliament, And let us choose such limbs of noble counsel That the great body of our state may go In equal rank with the best-governed nation; That war, or peace, or both at once, may be As things acquainted and familiar to us, [To the Chief Justice.] In which you, father, shall have foremost hand. Our coronation done, we will accite, As I before remembered, all our state. And, God consigning to my good intents, No prince nor peer shall have just cause to say God shorten Harry's happy life one day. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Sir John Falstaff, Shallow, Silence, Davy, Bardolph, and Page.] SHALLOW Nay, you shall see my orchard, where, in an arbor, we will eat a last year's pippin of mine own graffing, with a dish of caraways, and so forth.-- Come, cousin Silence.--And then to bed. FALSTAFF Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling, and a rich. SHALLOW Barren, barren, barren, beggars all, beggars all, Sir John. Marry, good air.--Spread, Davy, spread, Davy. Well said, Davy. FALSTAFF This Davy serves you for good uses. He is your servingman and your husband. SHALLOW A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good varlet, Sir John. By the Mass, I have drunk too much sack at supper. A good varlet. Now sit down, now sit down.--Come, cousin. SILENCE Ah, sirrah, quoth he, we shall [Sings.] Do nothing but eat and make good cheer, And praise God for the merry year, When flesh is cheap and females dear, And lusty lads roam here and there So merrily, And ever among so merrily. FALSTAFF There's a merry heart!--Good Master Silence, I'll give you a health for that anon. SHALLOW Give Master Bardolph some wine, Davy. DAVY, [to the guests] Sweet sir, sit. I'll be with you anon. Most sweet sir, sit. Master page, good master page, sit. Proface. What you want in meat, we'll have in drink, but you must bear. The heart's all. [He exits.] SHALLOW Be merry, Master Bardolph.--And, my little soldier there, be merry. SILENCE [sings] Be merry, be merry, my wife has all, For women are shrews, both short and tall. 'Tis merry in hall when beards wags all, And welcome merry Shrovetide. Be merry, be merry. FALSTAFF I did not think Master Silence had been a man of this mettle. SILENCE Who, I? I have been merry twice and once ere now. [Enter Davy.] DAVY, [to the guests] There's a dish of leather-coats for you. SHALLOW Davy! DAVY Your Worship, I'll be with you straight.--A cup of wine, sir. SILENCE [sings] A cup of wine that's brisk and fine, And drink unto thee, leman mine, And a merry heart lives long-a. FALSTAFF Well said, Master Silence. SILENCE And we shall be merry; now comes in the sweet o' th' night. FALSTAFF Health and long life to you, Master Silence. SILENCE [sings] Fill the cup, and let it come, I'll pledge you a mile to th' bottom. SHALLOW Honest Bardolph, welcome. If thou want'st anything and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart.-- Welcome, my little tiny thief, and welcome indeed too. I'll drink to Master Bardolph, and to all the cabileros about London. DAVY I hope to see London once ere I die. BARDOLPH An I might see you there, Davy! SHALLOW By the Mass, you'll crack a quart together, ha, will you not, Master Bardolph? BARDOLPH Yea, sir, in a pottle-pot. SHALLOW By God's liggens, I thank thee. The knave will stick by thee, I can assure thee that. He will not out, he. 'Tis true bred! BARDOLPH And I'll stick by him, sir. SHALLOW Why, there spoke a king. Lack nothing, be merry. [(One knocks at door.)] Look who's at door there, ho. Who knocks? [Davy exits.] FALSTAFF Why, now you have done me right. SILENCE [sings] Do me right, And dub me knight, Samingo. Is 't not so? FALSTAFF 'Tis so. SILENCE Is 't so? Why then, say an old man can do somewhat. [Enter Davy.] DAVY An 't please your Worship, there's one Pistol come from the court with news. FALSTAFF From the court? Let him come in. [Enter Pistol.] How now, Pistol? PISTOL Sir John, God save you. FALSTAFF What wind blew you hither, Pistol? PISTOL Not the ill wind which blows no man to good. Sweet knight, thou art now one of the greatest men in this realm. SILENCE By 'r Lady, I think he be, but Goodman Puff of Barson. PISTOL Puff? Puff in thy teeth, most recreant coward base!-- Sir John, I am thy Pistol and thy friend, And helter-skelter have I rode to thee, And tidings do I bring, and lucky joys, And golden times, and happy news of price. FALSTAFF I pray thee now, deliver them like a man of this world. PISTOL A foutre for the world and worldlings base! I speak of Africa and golden joys. FALSTAFF O base Assyrian knight, what is thy news? Let King Cophetua know the truth thereof. SILENCE [sings] And Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John. PISTOL Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons, And shall good news be baffled? Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies' lap. SHALLOW Honest gentleman, I know not your breeding. PISTOL Why then, lament therefor. SHALLOW Give me pardon, sir. If, sir, you come with news from the court, I take it there's but two ways, either to utter them, or to conceal them. I am, sir, under the King in some authority. PISTOL Under which king, besonian? Speak or die. SHALLOW Under King Harry. PISTOL Harry the Fourth, or Fifth? SHALLOW Harry the Fourth. PISTOL A foutre for thine office!-- Sir John, thy tender lambkin now is king. Harry the Fifth's the man. I speak the truth. When Pistol lies, do this and fig me, like The bragging Spaniard. [Pistol makes a fig.] FALSTAFF What, is the old king dead? PISTOL As nail in door. The things I speak are just. FALSTAFF Away, Bardolph.--Saddle my horse.-- Master Robert Shallow, choose what office thou wilt in the land, 'tis thine.--Pistol, I will double-charge thee with dignities. BARDOLPH O joyful day! I would not take a knight-hood for my fortune. PISTOL What, I do bring good news! FALSTAFF Carry Master Silence to bed.--Master Shallow, my Lord Shallow, be what thou wilt. I am Fortune's steward. Get on thy boots. We'll ride all night.--O sweet Pistol!--Away, Bardolph!--Come, Pistol, utter more to me, and withal devise something to do thyself good.--Boot, boot, Master Shallow. I know the young king is sick for me. Let us take any man's horses. The laws of England are at my commandment. Blessed are they that have been my friends, and woe to my Lord Chief Justice! PISTOL Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also! "Where is the life that late I led?" say they. Why, here it is. Welcome these pleasant days. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Hostess Quickly, Doll Tearsheet, and Beadles.] HOSTESS No, thou arrant knave. I would to God that I might die, that I might have thee hanged. Thou hast drawn my shoulder out of joint. BEADLE The Constables have delivered her over to me, and she shall have whipping cheer enough, I warrant her. There hath been a man or two lately killed about her. DOLL Nut-hook, nut-hook, you lie! Come on, I'll tell thee what, thou damned tripe-visaged rascal: an the child I now go with do miscarry, thou wert better thou hadst struck thy mother, thou paper-faced villain. HOSTESS O the Lord, that Sir John were come! I would make this a bloody day to somebody. But I pray God the fruit of her womb might miscarry. BEADLE If it do, you shall have a dozen of cushions again; you have but eleven now. Come, I charge you both go with me, for the man is dead that you and Pistol beat amongst you. DOLL I'll tell you what, you thin man in a censer, I will have you as soundly swinged for this, you bluebottle rogue, you filthy famished correctioner. If you be not swinged, I'll forswear half-kirtles. BEADLE Come, come, you she-knight-errant, come. HOSTESS O God, that right should thus overcome might! Well, of sufferance comes ease. DOLL Come, you rogue, come, bring me to a justice. HOSTESS Ay, come, you starved bloodhound. DOLL Goodman Death, Goodman Bones! HOSTESS Thou atomy, thou! DOLL Come, you thin thing, come, you rascal. BEADLE Very well. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter two Grooms.] FIRST GROOM More rushes, more rushes. SECOND GROOM The trumpets have sounded twice. FIRST GROOM 'Twill be two o'clock ere they come from the coronation. Dispatch, dispatch. [Grooms exit.] [Trumpets sound, and the King and his train pass over the stage. After them enter Falstaff, Shallow, Pistol, Bardolph, and the Page.] FALSTAFF Stand here by me, Master Robert Shallow. I will make the King do you grace. I will leer upon him as he comes by, and do but mark the countenance that he will give me. PISTOL God bless thy lungs, good knight! FALSTAFF Come here, Pistol, stand behind me.--O, if I had had time to have made new liveries, I would have bestowed the thousand pound I borrowed of you. But 'tis no matter. This poor show doth better. This doth infer the zeal I had to see him. SHALLOW It doth so. FALSTAFF It shows my earnestness of affection-- SHALLOW It doth so. FALSTAFF My devotion-- SHALLOW It doth, it doth, it doth. FALSTAFF As it were, to ride day and night, and not to deliberate, not to remember, not to have patience to shift me-- SHALLOW It is best, certain. FALSTAFF But to stand stained with travel and sweating with desire to see him, thinking of nothing else, putting all affairs else in oblivion, as if there were nothing else to be done but to see him. PISTOL 'Tis semper idem, for obsque hoc nihil est; 'tis all in every part. SHALLOW 'Tis so indeed. PISTOL My knight, I will inflame thy noble liver, and make thee rage. Thy Doll and Helen of thy noble thoughts is in base durance and contagious prison, haled thither by most mechanical and dirty hand. Rouse up revenge from ebon den with fell Alecto's snake, for Doll is in. Pistol speaks nought but truth. FALSTAFF I will deliver her. [Shouts within. The trumpets sound.] PISTOL There roared the sea, and trumpet-clangor sounds. [Enter the King and his train.] FALSTAFF God save thy Grace, King Hal, my royal Hal. PISTOL The heavens thee guard and keep, most royal imp of fame! FALSTAFF God save thee, my sweet boy! KING My Lord Chief Justice, speak to that vain man. CHIEF JUSTICE, [to Falstaff] Have you your wits? Know you what 'tis you speak? FALSTAFF, [to the King] My king, my Jove, I speak to thee, my heart! KING I know thee not, old man. Fall to thy prayers. How ill white hairs becomes a fool and jester. I have long dreamt of such a kind of man, So surfeit-swelled, so old, and so profane; But being awaked, I do despise my dream. Make less thy body hence, and more thy grace; Leave gormandizing. Know the grave doth gape For thee thrice wider than for other men. Reply not to me with a fool-born jest. Presume not that I am the thing I was, For God doth know--so shall the world perceive-- That I have turned away my former self. So will I those that kept me company. When thou dost hear I am as I have been, Approach me, and thou shalt be as thou wast, The tutor and the feeder of my riots. Till then I banish thee, on pain of death, As I have done the rest of my misleaders, Not to come near our person by ten mile. For competence of life I will allow you, That lack of means enforce you not to evils. And, as we hear you do reform yourselves, We will, according to your strengths and qualities, Give you advancement. [To the Lord Chief Justice.] Be it your charge, my lord, To see performed the tenor of my word.-- Set on. [King and his train exit.] FALSTAFF Master Shallow, I owe you a thousand pound. SHALLOW Yea, marry, Sir John, which I beseech you to let me have home with me. FALSTAFF That can hardly be, Master Shallow. Do not you grieve at this. I shall be sent for in private to him. Look you, he must seem thus to the world. Fear not your advancements. I will be the man yet that shall make you great. SHALLOW I cannot well perceive how, unless you should give me your doublet and stuff me out with straw. I beseech you, good Sir John, let me have five hundred of my thousand. FALSTAFF Sir, I will be as good as my word. This that you heard was but a color. SHALLOW A color that I fear you will die in, Sir John. FALSTAFF Fear no colors. Go with me to dinner.-- Come, lieutenant Pistol.--Come, Bardolph.--I shall be sent for soon at night. [Enter the Lord Chief Justice and Prince John, with Officers.] CHIEF JUSTICE Go, carry Sir John Falstaff to the Fleet. Take all his company along with him. FALSTAFF My lord, my lord -- CHIEF JUSTICE I cannot now speak. I will hear you soon.-- Take them away. PISTOL Si fortuna me tormenta, spero me contenta. [All but John of Lancaster and Chief Justice exit.] JOHN OF LANCASTER I like this fair proceeding of the King's. He hath intent his wonted followers Shall all be very well provided for, But all are banished till their conversations Appear more wise and modest to the world. CHIEF JUSTICE And so they are. JOHN OF LANCASTER The King hath called his parliament, my lord. CHIEF JUSTICE He hath. JOHN OF LANCASTER I will lay odds that, ere this year expire, We bear our civil swords and native fire As far as France. I heard a bird so sing, Whose music, to my thinking, pleased the King. Come, will you hence? [They exit.] EPILOGUE ======== First my fear, then my curtsy, last my speech. My fear is your displeasure, my curtsy my duty, and my speech, to beg your pardons. If you look for a good speech now, you undo me, for what I have to say is of mine own making, and what indeed I should say will, I doubt, prove mine own marring. But to the purpose, and so to the venture. Be it known to you, as it is very well, I was lately here in the end of a displeasing play to pray your patience for it and to promise you a better. I meant indeed to pay you with this, which, if like an ill venture it come unluckily home, I break, and you, my gentle creditors, lose. Here I promised you I would be, and here I commit my body to your mercies. Bate me some, and I will pay you some, and, as most debtors do, promise you infinitely. And so I kneel down before you, but, indeed, to pray for the Queen. If my tongue cannot entreat you to acquit me, will you command me to use my legs? And yet that were but light payment, to dance out of your debt. But a good conscience will make any possible satisfaction, and so would I. All the gentlewomen here have forgiven me; if the gentlemen will not, then the gentlemen do not agree with the gentlewomen, which was never seen before in such an assembly. One word more, I beseech you: if you be not too much cloyed with fat meat, our humble author will continue the story, with Sir John in it, and make you merry with fair Katherine of France, where, for anything I know, Falstaff shall die of a sweat, unless already he be killed with your hard opinions; for Oldcastle died a martyr, and this is not the man. My tongue is weary; when my legs are too, I will bid you good night.

Henry V by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== CHORUS HENRY V, KING OF ENGLAND THOMAS, DUKE OF EXETER, uncle to the King Brothers to the King: HUMPHREY, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER JOHN, DUKE OF BEDFORD THOMAS, DUKE OF CLARENCE Cousins to the King: DUKE OF YORK EARL OF WESTMORELAND EARL OF CAMBRIDGE English nobles: EARL OF WARWICK EARL OF SALISBURY EARL OF HUNTINGTON LORD SCROOP OF MASHAM SIR THOMAS GREY HOSTESS QUICKLY Former companions of Henry, now in his army: PISTOL NYM BARDOLPH BOY, their servant Officers in Henry's army: SIR THOMAS ERPINGHAM CAPTAIN FLUELLEN CAPTAIN GOWER CAPTAIN MACMORRIS CAPTAIN JAMY English heralds Soldiers in Henry's army: JOHN BATES ALEXANDER COURT MICHAEL WILLIAMS BISHOP OF CANTERBURY BISHOP OF ELY KING OF FRANCE QUEEN ISABEL OF FRANCE KATHERINE, Princess of France ALICE, a gentlewoman attending on Katherine DAUPHIN (i.e., Prince) of France French nobles: DUKE OF BERRI DUKE OF BRITTANY DUKE OF ORLEANS DUKE OF BOURBON DUKE OF BURGUNDY CONSTABLE OF FRANCE LORD GRANDPRE LORD RAMBURES LORD BEAUMONT MONTJOY, French herald French ambassadors to England MONSIEUR LE FER, a French soldier Governor of Harfleur Lords, Attendants, Soldiers, French Prisoners, Messengers PROLOGUE ======== [Enter Chorus as Prologue.] CHORUS O, for a muse of fire that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention! A kingdom for a stage, princes to act, And monarchs to behold the swelling scene! Then should the warlike Harry, like himself, Assume the port of Mars, and at his heels, Leashed in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire Crouch for employment. But pardon, gentles all, The flat unraised spirits that hath dared On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth So great an object. Can this cockpit hold The vasty fields of France? Or may we cram Within this wooden O the very casques That did affright the air at Agincourt? O pardon, since a crooked figure may Attest in little place a million, And let us, ciphers to this great account, On your imaginary forces work. Suppose within the girdle of these walls Are now confined two mighty monarchies, Whose high upreared and abutting fronts The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder. Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts. Into a thousand parts divide one man, And make imaginary puissance. Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them Printing their proud hoofs i' th' receiving earth, For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings, Carry them here and there, jumping o'er times, Turning th' accomplishment of many years Into an hourglass; for the which supply, Admit me chorus to this history, Who, prologue-like, your humble patience pray Gently to hear, kindly to judge our play. [He exits.] ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter the two Bishops of Canterbury and Ely.] BISHOP OF CANTERBURY My lord, I'll tell you that self bill is urged Which in th' eleventh year of the last king's reign Was like, and had indeed against us passed But that the scambling and unquiet time Did push it out of farther question. BISHOP OF ELY But how, my lord, shall we resist it now? BISHOP OF CANTERBURY It must be thought on. If it pass against us, We lose the better half of our possession, For all the temporal lands which men devout By testament have given to the Church Would they strip from us, being valued thus: "As much as would maintain, to the King's honor, Full fifteen earls and fifteen hundred knights, Six thousand and two hundred good esquires; And, to relief of lazars and weak age Of indigent faint souls past corporal toil, A hundred almshouses right well supplied; And to the coffers of the King besides, A thousand pounds by th' year." Thus runs the bill. BISHOP OF ELY This would drink deep. BISHOP OF CANTERBURY 'Twould drink the cup and all. BISHOP OF ELY But what prevention? BISHOP OF CANTERBURY The King is full of grace and fair regard. BISHOP OF ELY And a true lover of the holy Church. BISHOP OF CANTERBURY The courses of his youth promised it not. The breath no sooner left his father's body But that his wildness, mortified in him, Seemed to die too. Yea, at that very moment Consideration like an angel came And whipped th' offending Adam out of him, Leaving his body as a paradise T' envelop and contain celestial spirits. Never was such a sudden scholar made, Never came reformation in a flood With such a heady currance scouring faults, Nor never Hydra-headed willfulness So soon did lose his seat, and all at once, As in this king. BISHOP OF ELY We are blessed in the change. BISHOP OF CANTERBURY Hear him but reason in divinity And, all-admiring, with an inward wish You would desire the King were made a prelate; Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs, You would say it hath been all in all his study; List his discourse of war, and you shall hear A fearful battle rendered you in music; Turn him to any cause of policy, The Gordian knot of it he will unloose Familiar as his garter; that, when he speaks, The air, a chartered libertine, is still, And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears To steal his sweet and honeyed sentences; So that the art and practic part of life Must be the mistress to this theoric; Which is a wonder how his Grace should glean it, Since his addiction was to courses vain, His companies unlettered, rude, and shallow, His hours filled up with riots, banquets, sports, And never noted in him any study, Any retirement, any sequestration From open haunts and popularity. BISHOP OF ELY The strawberry grows underneath the nettle, And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best Neighbored by fruit of baser quality; And so the Prince obscured his contemplation Under the veil of wildness, which, no doubt, Grew like the summer grass, fastest by night, Unseen yet crescive in his faculty. BISHOP OF CANTERBURY It must be so, for miracles are ceased, And therefore we must needs admit the means How things are perfected. BISHOP OF ELY But, my good lord, How now for mitigation of this bill Urged by the Commons? Doth his Majesty Incline to it or no? BISHOP OF CANTERBURY He seems indifferent, Or rather swaying more upon our part Than cherishing th' exhibitors against us; For I have made an offer to his Majesty-- Upon our spiritual convocation And in regard of causes now in hand, Which I have opened to his Grace at large, As touching France--to give a greater sum Than ever at one time the clergy yet Did to his predecessors part withal. BISHOP OF ELY How did this offer seem received, my lord? BISHOP OF CANTERBURY With good acceptance of his Majesty-- Save that there was not time enough to hear, As I perceived his Grace would fain have done, The severals and unhidden passages Of his true titles to some certain dukedoms, And generally to the crown and seat of France, Derived from Edward, his great-grandfather. BISHOP OF ELY What was th' impediment that broke this off? BISHOP OF CANTERBURY The French ambassador upon that instant Craved audience. And the hour, I think, is come To give him hearing. Is it four o'clock? BISHOP OF ELY It is. BISHOP OF CANTERBURY Then go we in to know his embassy, Which I could with a ready guess declare Before the Frenchman speak a word of it. BISHOP OF ELY I'll wait upon you, and I long to hear it. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter the King of England, Humphrey Duke of Gloucester, Bedford, Clarence, Warwick, Westmoreland, and Exeter, with other Attendants.] KING HENRY Where is my gracious Lord of Canterbury? EXETER Not here in presence. KING HENRY Send for him, good uncle. WESTMORELAND Shall we call in th' Ambassador, my liege? KING HENRY Not yet, my cousin. We would be resolved, Before we hear him, of some things of weight That task our thoughts concerning us and France. [Enter the two Bishops of Canterbury and Ely.] BISHOP OF CANTERBURY God and his angels guard your sacred throne And make you long become it. KING HENRY Sure we thank you. My learned lord, we pray you to proceed And justly and religiously unfold Why the law Salic that they have in France Or should or should not bar us in our claim. And God forbid, my dear and faithful lord, That you should fashion, wrest, or bow your reading, Or nicely charge your understanding soul With opening titles miscreate, whose right Suits not in native colors with the truth; For God doth know how many now in health Shall drop their blood in approbation Of what your reverence shall incite us to. Therefore take heed how you impawn our person, How you awake our sleeping sword of war. We charge you in the name of God, take heed, For never two such kingdoms did contend Without much fall of blood, whose guiltless drops Are every one a woe, a sore complaint 'Gainst him whose wrongs gives edge unto the swords That makes such waste in brief mortality. Under this conjuration, speak, my lord, For we will hear, note, and believe in heart That what you speak is in your conscience washed As pure as sin with baptism. BISHOP OF CANTERBURY Then hear me, gracious sovereign, and you peers That owe yourselves, your lives, and services To this imperial throne. There is no bar To make against your Highness' claim to France But this, which they produce from Pharamond: "In terram Salicam mulieres ne succedant (No woman shall succeed in Salic land), Which Salic land the French unjustly gloze To be the realm of France, and Pharamond The founder of this law and female bar. Yet their own authors faithfully affirm That the land Salic is in Germany, Between the floods of Sala and of Elbe, Where Charles the Great, having subdued the Saxons, There left behind and settled certain French, Who, holding in disdain the German women For some dishonest manners of their life, Established then this law: to wit, no female Should be inheritrix in Salic land, Which "Salic," as I said, 'twixt Elbe and Sala Is at this day in Germany called Meissen. Then doth it well appear the Salic law Was not devised for the realm of France, Nor did the French possess the Salic land Until four hundred one and twenty years After defunction of King Pharamond, Idly supposed the founder of this law, Who died within the year of our redemption Four hundred twenty-six; and Charles the Great Subdued the Saxons and did seat the French Beyond the river Sala in the year Eight hundred five. Besides, their writers say, King Pepin, which deposed Childeric, Did, as heir general, being descended Of Blithild, which was daughter to King Clothair, Make claim and title to the crown of France. Hugh Capet also, who usurped the crown Of Charles the Duke of Lorraine, sole heir male Of the true line and stock of Charles the Great, To find his title with some shows of truth, Though in pure truth it was corrupt and naught, Conveyed himself as th' heir to th' Lady Lingare, Daughter to Charlemagne, who was the son To Lewis the Emperor, and Lewis the son Of Charles the Great. Also King Lewis the Tenth, Who was sole heir to the usurper Capet, Could not keep quiet in his conscience, Wearing the crown of France, till satisfied That fair Queen Isabel, his grandmother, Was lineal of the Lady Ermengare, Daughter to Charles the foresaid Duke of Lorraine: By the which marriage the line of Charles the Great Was reunited to the crown of France. So that, as clear as is the summer's sun, King Pepin's title and Hugh Capet's claim, King Lewis his satisfaction, all appear To hold in right and title of the female. So do the kings of France unto this day, Howbeit they would hold up this Salic law To bar your Highness claiming from the female, And rather choose to hide them in a net Than amply to imbar their crooked titles Usurped from you and your progenitors. KING HENRY May I with right and conscience make this claim? BISHOP OF CANTERBURY The sin upon my head, dread sovereign, For in the Book of Numbers is it writ: "When the man dies, let the inheritance Descend unto the daughter." Gracious lord, Stand for your own, unwind your bloody flag, Look back into your mighty ancestors. Go, my dread lord, to your great-grandsire's tomb, From whom you claim; invoke his warlike spirit And your great-uncle's, Edward the Black Prince, Who on the French ground played a tragedy, Making defeat on the full power of France Whiles his most mighty father on a hill Stood smiling to behold his lion's whelp Forage in blood of French nobility. O noble English, that could entertain With half their forces the full pride of France And let another half stand laughing by, All out of work and cold for action! BISHOP OF ELY Awake remembrance of these valiant dead And with your puissant arm renew their feats. You are their heir, you sit upon their throne, The blood and courage that renowned them Runs in your veins; and my thrice-puissant liege Is in the very May-morn of his youth, Ripe for exploits and mighty enterprises. EXETER Your brother kings and monarchs of the Earth Do all expect that you should rouse yourself As did the former lions of your blood. WESTMORELAND They know your Grace hath cause and means and might; So hath your Highness. Never king of England Had nobles richer, and more loyal subjects, Whose hearts have left their bodies here in England And lie pavilioned in the fields of France. BISHOP OF CANTERBURY O, let their bodies follow, my dear liege, With blood and sword and fire to win your right, In aid whereof we of the spiritualty Will raise your Highness such a mighty sum As never did the clergy at one time Bring in to any of your ancestors. KING HENRY We must not only arm t' invade the French, But lay down our proportions to defend Against the Scot, who will make road upon us With all advantages. BISHOP OF CANTERBURY They of those marches, gracious sovereign, Shall be a wall sufficient to defend Our inland from the pilfering borderers. KING HENRY We do not mean the coursing snatchers only, But fear the main intendment of the Scot, Who hath been still a giddy neighbor to us. For you shall read that my great-grandfather Never went with his forces into France But that the Scot on his unfurnished kingdom Came pouring like the tide into a breach With ample and brim fullness of his force, Galling the gleaned land with hot assays, Girding with grievous siege castles and towns, That England, being empty of defense, Hath shook and trembled at th' ill neighborhood. BISHOP OF CANTERBURY She hath been then more feared than harmed, my liege, For hear her but exampled by herself: When all her chivalry hath been in France And she a mourning widow of her nobles, She hath herself not only well defended But taken and impounded as a stray The King of Scots, whom she did send to France To fill King Edward's fame with prisoner kings And make her chronicle as rich with praise As is the ooze and bottom of the sea With sunken wrack and sumless treasuries. BISHOP OF ELY But there's a saying very old and true: "If that you will France win, Then with Scotland first begin." For once the eagle England being in prey, To her unguarded nest the weasel Scot Comes sneaking and so sucks her princely eggs, Playing the mouse in absence of the cat, To 'tame and havoc more than she can eat. EXETER It follows, then, the cat must stay at home. Yet that is but a crushed necessity, Since we have locks to safeguard necessaries And pretty traps to catch the petty thieves. While that the armed hand doth fight abroad, Th' advised head defends itself at home. For government, though high and low and lower, Put into parts, doth keep in one consent, Congreeing in a full and natural close, Like music. BISHOP OF CANTERBURY Therefore doth heaven divide The state of man in divers functions, Setting endeavor in continual motion, To which is fixed as an aim or butt Obedience; for so work the honeybees, Creatures that by a rule in nature teach The act of order to a peopled kingdom. They have a king and officers of sorts, Where some like magistrates correct at home, Others like merchants venture trade abroad, Others like soldiers armed in their stings Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds, Which pillage they with merry march bring home To the tent royal of their emperor, Who, busied in his majesty, surveys The singing masons building roofs of gold, The civil citizens kneading up the honey, The poor mechanic porters crowding in Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate, The sad-eyed justice with his surly hum Delivering o'er to executors pale The lazy yawning drone. I this infer: That many things, having full reference To one consent, may work contrariously, As many arrows loosed several ways Come to one mark, as many ways meet in one town, As many fresh streams meet in one salt sea, As many lines close in the dial's center, So may a thousand actions, once afoot, End in one purpose and be all well borne Without defeat. Therefore to France, my liege! Divide your happy England into four, Whereof take you one quarter into France, And you withal shall make all Gallia shake. If we, with thrice such powers left at home, Cannot defend our own doors from the dog, Let us be worried, and our nation lose The name of hardiness and policy. KING HENRY Call in the messengers sent from the Dauphin. [Attendants exit.] Now are we well resolved, and by God's help And yours, the noble sinews of our power, France being ours, we'll bend it to our awe Or break it all to pieces. Or there we'll sit, Ruling in large and ample empery O'er France and all her almost kingly dukedoms, Or lay these bones in an unworthy urn, Tombless, with no remembrance over them. Either our history shall with full mouth Speak freely of our acts, or else our grave, Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth, Not worshiped with a waxen epitaph. [Enter Ambassadors of France, with Attendants. ] Now are we well prepared to know the pleasure Of our fair cousin Dauphin, for we hear Your greeting is from him, not from the King. AMBASSADOR May 't please your Majesty to give us leave Freely to render what we have in charge, Or shall we sparingly show you far off The Dauphin's meaning and our embassy? KING HENRY We are no tyrant, but a Christian king, Unto whose grace our passion is as subject As is our wretches fettered in our prisons. Therefore with frank and with uncurbed plainness Tell us the Dauphin's mind. AMBASSADOR Thus, then, in few: Your Highness, lately sending into France, Did claim some certain dukedoms in the right Of your great predecessor, King Edward the Third; In answer of which claim, the Prince our master Says that you savor too much of your youth And bids you be advised there's naught in France That can be with a nimble galliard won; You cannot revel into dukedoms there. He therefore sends you, meeter for your spirit, This tun of treasure and, in lieu of this, Desires you let the dukedoms that you claim Hear no more of you. This the Dauphin speaks. KING HENRY What treasure, uncle? EXETER Tennis balls, my liege. KING HENRY We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us. His present and your pains we thank you for. When we have matched our rackets to these balls, We will in France, by God's grace, play a set Shall strike his father's crown into the hazard. Tell him he hath made a match with such a wrangler That all the courts of France will be disturbed With chases. And we understand him well, How he comes o'er us with our wilder days, Not measuring what use we made of them. We never valued this poor seat of England, And therefore, living hence, did give ourself To barbarous license, as 'tis ever common That men are merriest when they are from home. But tell the Dauphin I will keep my state, Be like a king, and show my sail of greatness When I do rouse me in my throne of France, For that I have laid by my majesty And plodded like a man for working days; But I will rise there with so full a glory That I will dazzle all the eyes of France, Yea, strike the Dauphin blind to look on us. And tell the pleasant prince this mock of his Hath turned his balls to gun-stones, and his soul Shall stand sore charged for the wasteful vengeance That shall fly with them; for many a thousand widows Shall this his mock mock out of their dear husbands, Mock mothers from their sons, mock castles down; And some are yet ungotten and unborn That shall have cause to curse the Dauphin's scorn. But this lies all within the will of God, To whom I do appeal, and in whose name Tell you the Dauphin I am coming on, To venge me as I may and to put forth My rightful hand in a well-hallowed cause. So get you hence in peace. And tell the Dauphin His jest will savor but of shallow wit When thousands weep more than did laugh at it.-- Convey them with safe conduct.--Fare you well. [Ambassadors exit, with Attendants.] EXETER This was a merry message. KING HENRY We hope to make the sender blush at it. Therefore, my lords, omit no happy hour That may give furth'rance to our expedition; For we have now no thought in us but France, Save those to God, that run before our business. Therefore let our proportions for these wars Be soon collected, and all things thought upon That may with reasonable swiftness add More feathers to our wings. For, God before, We'll chide this Dauphin at his father's door. Therefore let every man now task his thought, That this fair action may on foot be brought. [Flourish. They exit.] ACT 2 ===== [Enter Chorus.] CHORUS Now all the youth of England are on fire, And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies; Now thrive the armorers, and honor's thought Reigns solely in the breast of every man. They sell the pasture now to buy the horse, Following the mirror of all Christian kings With winged heels, as English Mercurys. For now sits Expectation in the air And hides a sword, from hilts unto the point, With crowns imperial, crowns, and coronets Promised to Harry and his followers. The French, advised by good intelligence Of this most dreadful preparation, Shake in their fear, and with pale policy Seek to divert the English purposes. O England, model to thy inward greatness, Like little body with a mighty heart, What might'st thou do, that honor would thee do, Were all thy children kind and natural! But see, thy fault France hath in thee found out, A nest of hollow bosoms, which he fills With treacherous crowns, and three corrupted men-- One, Richard, Earl of Cambridge, and the second, Henry, Lord Scroop of Masham, and the third, Sir Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland-- Have, for the gilt of France (O guilt indeed!), Confirmed conspiracy with fearful France, And by their hands this grace of kings must die, If hell and treason hold their promises, Ere he take ship for France, and in Southampton. Linger your patience on, and we'll digest Th' abuse of distance, force a play. The sum is paid, the traitors are agreed, The King is set from London, and the scene Is now transported, gentles, to Southampton. There is the playhouse now, there must you sit, And thence to France shall we convey you safe And bring you back, charming the narrow seas To give you gentle pass; for, if we may, We'll not offend one stomach with our play. But, till the King come forth, and not till then, Unto Southampton do we shift our scene. [He exits.] Scene 1 ======= [Enter Corporal Nym and Lieutenant Bardolph.] BARDOLPH Well met, Corporal Nym. NYM Good morrow, Lieutenant Bardolph. BARDOLPH What, are Ancient Pistol and you friends yet? NYM For my part, I care not. I say little, but when time shall serve, there shall be smiles; but that shall be as it may. I dare not fight, but I will wink and hold out mine iron. It is a simple one, but what though? It will toast cheese, and it will endure cold as another man's sword will, and there's an end. BARDOLPH I will bestow a breakfast to make you friends, and we'll be all three sworn brothers to France. Let 't be so, good Corporal Nym. NYM Faith, I will live so long as I may, that's the certain of it; and when I cannot live any longer, I will do as I may. That is my rest, that is the rendezvous of it. BARDOLPH It is certain, corporal, that he is married to Nell Quickly, and certainly she did you wrong, for you were troth-plight to her. NYM I cannot tell. Things must be as they may. Men may sleep, and they may have their throats about them at that time, and some say knives have edges. It must be as it may. Though patience be a tired mare, yet she will plod. There must be conclusions. Well, I cannot tell. [Enter Pistol and Hostess Quickly.] BARDOLPH Here comes Ancient Pistol and his wife. Good corporal, be patient here.--How now, mine host Pistol? PISTOL Base tyke, call'st thou me host? Now, by this hand, I swear I scorn the term, nor shall my Nell keep lodgers. HOSTESS No, by my troth, not long; for we cannot lodge and board a dozen or fourteen gentlewomen that live honestly by the prick of their needles but it will be thought we keep a bawdy house straight. [Nym and Pistol draw their swords.] O well-a-day, Lady! If he be not hewn now, we shall see willful adultery and murder committed. BARDOLPH Good lieutenant, good corporal, offer nothing here. NYM Pish! PISTOL Pish for thee, Iceland dog, thou prick-eared cur of Iceland! HOSTESS Good Corporal Nym, show thy valor, and put up your sword. NYM Will you shog off? [To Pistol.] I would have you solus. PISTOL "Solus, egregious dog? O viper vile, the solus in thy most marvelous face, the solus in thy teeth and in thy throat and in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, perdy, and, which is worse, within thy nasty mouth! I do retort the solus in thy bowels, for I can take, and Pistol's cock is up, and flashing fire will follow. NYM I am not Barbason, you cannot conjure me. I have an humor to knock you indifferently well. If you grow foul with me, Pistol, I will scour you with my rapier, as I may, in fair terms. If you would walk off, I would prick your guts a little in good terms, as I may, and that's the humor of it. PISTOL O braggart vile and damned furious wight, The grave doth gape, and doting death is near. Therefore exhale. BARDOLPH Hear me, hear me what I say: he that strikes the first stroke, I'll run him up to the hilts, as I am a soldier. [He draws.] PISTOL An oath of mickle might, and fury shall abate. [Pistol and Nym and then Bardolph sheathe their swords.] Give me thy fist, thy forefoot to me give. Thy spirits are most tall. NYM, [to Pistol] I will cut thy throat one time or other in fair terms, that is the humor of it. PISTOL Couple a gorge, that is the word. I defy thee again. O hound of Crete, think'st thou my spouse to get? No, to the spital go, and from the powd'ring tub of infamy fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid's kind, Doll Tearsheet she by name, and her espouse. I have, and I will hold, the quondam Quickly for the only she: and pauca, there's enough too! Go to. [Enter the Boy.] BOY Mine host Pistol, you must come to my master, and your hostess. He is very sick and would to bed.--Good Bardolph, put thy face between his sheets, and do the office of a warming-pan. Faith, he's very ill. BARDOLPH Away, you rogue! HOSTESS By my troth, he'll yield the crow a pudding one of these days. The King has killed his heart. Good husband, come home presently. [She exits with the Boy.] BARDOLPH Come, shall I make you two friends? We must to France together. Why the devil should we keep knives to cut one another's throats? PISTOL Let floods o'erswell and fiends for food howl on! NYM You'll pay me the eight shillings I won of you at betting? PISTOL Base is the slave that pays. NYM That now I will have, that's the humor of it. PISTOL As manhood shall compound. Push home. [They draw.] BARDOLPH, [drawing his sword] By this sword, he that makes the first thrust, I'll kill him. By this sword, I will. PISTOL, [sheathing his sword] "Sword" is an oath, and oaths must have their course. BARDOLPH Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be friends, be friends; an thou wilt not, why then be enemies with me too. Prithee, put up. PISTOL, [to Nym] A noble shalt thou have, and present pay, and liquor likewise will I give to thee, and friendship shall combine, and brotherhood. I'll live by Nym, and Nym shall live by me. Is not this just? For I shall sutler be unto the camp, and profits will accrue. Give me thy hand. NYM I shall have my noble? PISTOL In cash, most justly paid. NYM Well, then, that's the humor of 't. [Nym and Bardolph sheathe their swords.] [Enter Hostess.] HOSTESS As ever you come of women, come in quickly to Sir John. Ah, poor heart, he is so shaked of a burning quotidian-tertian that it is most lamentable to behold. Sweet men, come to him. NYM The King hath run bad humors on the knight, that's the even of it. PISTOL Nym, thou hast spoke the right. His heart is fracted and corroborate. NYM The King is a good king, but it must be as it may; he passes some humors and careers. PISTOL Let us condole the knight, for, lambkins, we will live. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Exeter, Bedford, and Westmoreland.] BEDFORD 'Fore God, his Grace is bold to trust these traitors. EXETER They shall be apprehended by and by. WESTMORELAND How smooth and even they do bear themselves, As if allegiance in their bosoms sat Crowned with faith and constant loyalty. BEDFORD The King hath note of all that they intend, By interception which they dream not of. EXETER Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow, Whom he hath dulled and cloyed with gracious favors-- That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell His sovereign's life to death and treachery! [Sound Trumpets. Enter the King of England, Scroop, Cambridge, and Grey, with Attendants.] KING HENRY Now sits the wind fair, and we will aboard.-- My Lord of Cambridge, and my kind Lord of Masham, And you, my gentle knight, give me your thoughts. Think you not that the powers we bear with us Will cut their passage through the force of France, Doing the execution and the act For which we have in head assembled them? SCROOP No doubt, my liege, if each man do his best. KING HENRY I doubt not that, since we are well persuaded We carry not a heart with us from hence That grows not in a fair consent with ours, Nor leave not one behind that doth not wish Success and conquest to attend on us. CAMBRIDGE Never was monarch better feared and loved Than is your Majesty. There's not, I think, a subject That sits in heart-grief and uneasiness Under the sweet shade of your government. GREY True. Those that were your father's enemies Have steeped their galls in honey, and do serve you With hearts create of duty and of zeal. KING HENRY We therefore have great cause of thankfulness, And shall forget the office of our hand Sooner than quittance of desert and merit According to the weight and worthiness. SCROOP So service shall with steeled sinews toil, And labor shall refresh itself with hope To do your Grace incessant services. KING HENRY We judge no less.--Uncle of Exeter, Enlarge the man committed yesterday That railed against our person. We consider It was excess of wine that set him on, And on his more advice we pardon him. SCROOP That's mercy, but too much security. Let him be punished, sovereign, lest example Breed, by his sufferance, more of such a kind. KING HENRY O, let us yet be merciful. CAMBRIDGE So may your Highness, and yet punish too. GREY Sir, you show great mercy if you give him life After the taste of much correction. KING HENRY Alas, your too much love and care of me Are heavy orisons 'gainst this poor wretch. If little faults proceeding on distemper Shall not be winked at, how shall we stretch our eye When capital crimes, chewed, swallowed, and digested, Appear before us? We'll yet enlarge that man, Though Cambridge, Scroop, and Grey, in their dear care And tender preservation of our person, Would have him punished. And now to our French causes. Who are the late commissioners? CAMBRIDGE I one, my lord. Your Highness bade me ask for it today. SCROOP So did you me, my liege. GREY And I, my royal sovereign. KING HENRY, [giving them papers] Then Richard, Earl of Cambridge, there is yours-- There yours, Lord Scroop of Masham.--And, sir knight, Grey of Northumberland, this same is yours.-- Read them, and know I know your worthiness.-- My Lord of Westmoreland and uncle Exeter, We will aboard tonight.--Why how now, gentlemen? What see you in those papers, that you lose So much complexion?--Look you, how they change. Their cheeks are paper.--Why, what read you there That have so cowarded and chased your blood Out of appearance? CAMBRIDGE I do confess my fault, And do submit me to your Highness' mercy. GREY/SCROOP To which we all appeal. KING HENRY The mercy that was quick in us but late By your own counsel is suppressed and killed. You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy, For your own reasons turn into your bosoms As dogs upon their masters, worrying you.-- See you, my princes and my noble peers, These English monsters. My Lord of Cambridge here, You know how apt our love was to accord To furnish him with all appurtenants Belonging to his honor, and this man Hath, for a few light crowns, lightly conspired And sworn unto the practices of France To kill us here in Hampton; to the which This knight, no less for bounty bound to us Than Cambridge is, hath likewise sworn.--But O, What shall I say to thee, Lord Scroop, thou cruel, Ingrateful, savage, and inhuman creature? Thou that didst bear the key of all my counsels, That knew'st the very bottom of my soul, That almost mightst have coined me into gold, Wouldst thou have practiced on me for thy use-- May it be possible that foreign hire Could out of thee extract one spark of evil That might annoy my finger? 'Tis so strange That, though the truth of it stands off as gross As black and white, my eye will scarcely see it. Treason and murder ever kept together, As two yoke-devils sworn to either's purpose, Working so grossly in a natural cause That admiration did not whoop at them. But thou, 'gainst all proportion, didst bring in Wonder to wait on treason and on murder, And whatsoever cunning fiend it was That wrought upon thee so preposterously Hath got the voice in hell for excellence. All other devils that suggest by treasons Do botch and bungle up damnation With patches, colors, and with forms being fetched From glist'ring semblances of piety; But he that tempered thee bade thee stand up, Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason, Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor. If that same demon that hath gulled thee thus Should with his lion gait walk the whole world, He might return to vasty Tartar back And tell the legions "I can never win A soul so easy as that Englishman's." O, how hast thou with jealousy infected The sweetness of affiance! Show men dutiful? Why, so didst thou. Seem they grave and learned? Why, so didst thou. Come they of noble family? Why, so didst thou. Seem they religious? Why, so didst thou. Or are they spare in diet, Free from gross passion or of mirth or anger, Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood, Garnished and decked in modest complement, Not working with the eye without the ear, And but in purged judgment trusting neither? Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem. And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot To mark the full-fraught man and best endued With some suspicion. I will weep for thee, For this revolt of thine methinks is like Another fall of man.--Their faults are open. Arrest them to the answer of the law, And God acquit them of their practices. EXETER I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Richard, Earl of Cambridge.-- I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Henry, Lord Scroop of Masham.-- I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland. SCROOP Our purposes God justly hath discovered, And I repent my fault more than my death, Which I beseech your Highness to forgive, Although my body pay the price of it. CAMBRIDGE For me, the gold of France did not seduce, Although I did admit it as a motive The sooner to effect what I intended; But God be thanked for prevention, Which I in sufferance heartily will rejoice, Beseeching God and you to pardon me. GREY Never did faithful subject more rejoice At the discovery of most dangerous treason Than I do at this hour joy o'er myself, Prevented from a damned enterprise. My fault, but not my body, pardon, sovereign. KING HENRY God quit you in His mercy. Hear your sentence: You have conspired against our royal person, Joined with an enemy proclaimed, and from his coffers Received the golden earnest of our death, Wherein you would have sold your king to slaughter, His princes and his peers to servitude, His subjects to oppression and contempt, And his whole kingdom into desolation. Touching our person, seek we no revenge, But we our kingdom's safety must so tender, Whose ruin you have sought, that to her laws We do deliver you. Get you therefore hence, Poor miserable wretches, to your death, The taste whereof God of His mercy give You patience to endure, and true repentance Of all your dear offenses.--Bear them hence. [They exit under guard.] Now, lords, for France, the enterprise whereof Shall be to you as us, like glorious. We doubt not of a fair and lucky war, Since God so graciously hath brought to light This dangerous treason lurking in our way To hinder our beginnings. We doubt not now But every rub is smoothed on our way. Then forth, dear countrymen. Let us deliver Our puissance into the hand of God, Putting it straight in expedition. Cheerly to sea. The signs of war advance. No king of England if not king of France. [Flourish. They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Pistol, Nym, Bardolph, Boy, and Hostess.] HOSTESS Prithee, honey-sweet husband, let me bring thee to Staines. PISTOL No; for my manly heart doth earn.--Bardolph, be blithe.--Nym, rouse thy vaunting veins.-- Boy, bristle thy courage up. For Falstaff, he is dead, and we must earn therefore. BARDOLPH Would I were with him, wheresome'er he is, either in heaven or in hell. HOSTESS Nay, sure, he's not in hell! He's in Arthur's bosom, if ever man went to Arthur's bosom. He made a finer end, and went away an it had been any christom child. He parted ev'n just between twelve and one, ev'n at the turning o' th' tide; for after I saw him fumble with the sheets and play with flowers and smile upon his finger's end, I knew there was but one way, for his nose was as sharp as a pen and he talked of green fields. "How now, Sir John?" quoth I. "What, man, be o' good cheer!" So he cried out "God, God, God!" three or four times. Now I, to comfort him, bid him he should not think of God; I hoped there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet. So he bade me lay more clothes on his feet. I put my hand into the bed and felt them, and they were as cold as any stone. Then I felt to his knees, and so upward and upward, and all was as cold as any stone. NYM They say he cried out of sack. HOSTESS Ay, that he did. BARDOLPH And of women. HOSTESS Nay, that he did not. BOY Yes, that he did, and said they were devils incarnate. HOSTESS He could never abide carnation. 'Twas a color he never liked. BOY He said once, the devil would have him about women. HOSTESS He did in some sort, indeed, handle women, but then he was rheumatic and talked of the Whore of Babylon. BOY Do you not remember he saw a flea stick upon Bardolph's nose, and he said it was a black soul burning in hell? BARDOLPH Well, the fuel is gone that maintained that fire. That's all the riches I got in his service. NYM Shall we shog? The King will be gone from Southampton. PISTOL Come, let's away.--My love, give me thy lips. [They kiss.] Look to my chattels and my movables. Let senses rule. The word is "Pitch and pay." Trust none, for oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes, and Holdfast is the only dog, my duck. Therefore, Caveto be thy counselor. Go, clear thy crystals.--Yoke-fellows in arms, let us to France, like horse-leeches, my boys, to suck, to suck, the very blood to suck. BOY And that's but unwholesome food, they say. PISTOL Touch her soft mouth, and march. BARDOLPH, [kissing the Hostess] Farewell, hostess. NYM I cannot kiss, that is the humor of it. But adieu. PISTOL, [to the Hostess] Let huswifery appear. Keep close, I thee command. HOSTESS Farewell. Adieu. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Flourish. Enter the French King, the Dauphin, the Dukes of Berri and Brittany, the Constable, and others.] KING OF FRANCE Thus comes the English with full power upon us, And more than carefully it us concerns To answer royally in our defenses. Therefore the Dukes of Berri and of Brittany, Of Brabant and of Orleans, shall make forth, And you, Prince Dauphin, with all swift dispatch, To line and new-repair our towns of war With men of courage and with means defendant. For England his approaches makes as fierce As waters to the sucking of a gulf. It fits us then to be as provident As fear may teach us out of late examples Left by the fatal and neglected English Upon our fields. DAUPHIN My most redoubted father, It is most meet we arm us 'gainst the foe, For peace itself should not so dull a kingdom, Though war nor no known quarrel were in question But that defenses, musters, preparations Should be maintained, assembled, and collected As were a war in expectation. Therefore I say 'tis meet we all go forth To view the sick and feeble parts of France. And let us do it with no show of fear, No, with no more than if we heard that England Were busied with a Whitsun morris-dance. For, my good liege, she is so idly kinged, Her scepter so fantastically borne By a vain, giddy, shallow, humorous youth, That fear attends her not. CONSTABLE O peace, Prince Dauphin! You are too much mistaken in this king. Question your Grace the late ambassadors With what great state he heard their embassy, How well supplied with noble councillors, How modest in exception, and withal How terrible in constant resolution, And you shall find his vanities forespent Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus, Covering discretion with a coat of folly, As gardeners do with ordure hide those roots That shall first spring and be most delicate. DAUPHIN Well, 'tis not so, my Lord High Constable. But though we think it so, it is no matter. In cases of defense, 'tis best to weigh The enemy more mighty than he seems. So the proportions of defense are filled, Which of a weak and niggardly projection Doth, like a miser, spoil his coat with scanting A little cloth. KING OF FRANCE Think we King Harry strong, And, princes, look you strongly arm to meet him. The kindred of him hath been fleshed upon us, And he is bred out of that bloody strain That haunted us in our familiar paths. Witness our too-much-memorable shame When Cressy battle fatally was struck And all our princes captived by the hand Of that black name, Edward, Black Prince of Wales, Whiles that his mountain sire, on mountain standing Up in the air, crowned with the golden sun, Saw his heroical seed and smiled to see him Mangle the work of nature and deface The patterns that by God and by French fathers Had twenty years been made. This is a stem Of that victorious stock, and let us fear The native mightiness and fate of him. [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER Ambassadors from Harry King of England Do crave admittance to your Majesty. KING OF FRANCE We'll give them present audience. Go, and bring them. [Messenger exits.] You see this chase is hotly followed, friends. DAUPHIN Turn head and stop pursuit, for coward dogs Most spend their mouths when what they seem to threaten Runs far before them. Good my sovereign, Take up the English short, and let them know Of what a monarchy you are the head. Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin As self-neglecting. [Enter Exeter, with Lords and Attendants.] KING OF FRANCE From our brother of England? EXETER From him, and thus he greets your Majesty: He wills you, in the name of God almighty, That you divest yourself and lay apart The borrowed glories that, by gift of heaven, By law of nature and of nations, 'longs To him and to his heirs--namely, the crown And all wide-stretched honors that pertain By custom and the ordinance of times Unto the crown of France. That you may know 'Tis no sinister nor no awkward claim Picked from the wormholes of long-vanished days Nor from the dust of old oblivion raked, He sends you this most memorable line, [He offers a paper.] In every branch truly demonstrative, Willing you overlook this pedigree, And when you find him evenly derived From his most famed of famous ancestors, Edward the Third, he bids you then resign Your crown and kingdom, indirectly held From him, the native and true challenger. KING OF FRANCE Or else what follows? EXETER Bloody constraint, for if you hide the crown Even in your hearts, there will he rake for it. Therefore in fierce tempest is he coming, In thunder and in earthquake like a Jove, That, if requiring fail, he will compel, And bids you, in the bowels of the Lord, Deliver up the crown and to take mercy On the poor souls for whom this hungry war Opens his vasty jaws, and on your head Turning the widows' tears, the orphans' cries, The dead men's blood, the prived maidens' groans, For husbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers That shall be swallowed in this controversy. This is his claim, his threat'ning, and my message-- Unless the Dauphin be in presence here, To whom expressly I bring greeting too. KING OF FRANCE For us, we will consider of this further. Tomorrow shall you bear our full intent Back to our brother of England. DAUPHIN, [to Exeter] For the Dauphin, I stand here for him. What to him from England? EXETER Scorn and defiance, slight regard, contempt, And anything that may not misbecome The mighty sender, doth he prize you at. Thus says my king: an if your father's Highness Do not, in grant of all demands at large, Sweeten the bitter mock you sent his Majesty, He'll call you to so hot an answer of it That caves and womby vaultages of France Shall chide your trespass and return your mock In second accent of his ordinance. DAUPHIN Say, if my father render fair return, It is against my will, for I desire Nothing but odds with England. To that end, As matching to his youth and vanity, I did present him with the Paris balls. EXETER He'll make your Paris Louvre shake for it, Were it the mistress court of mighty Europe. And be assured you'll find a difference, As we his subjects have in wonder found, Between the promise of his greener days And these he masters now. Now he weighs time Even to the utmost grain. That you shall read In your own losses, if he stay in France. KING OF FRANCE Tomorrow shall you know our mind at full. [Flourish.] EXETER Dispatch us with all speed, lest that our king Come here himself to question our delay, For he is footed in this land already. KING OF FRANCE You shall be soon dispatched with fair conditions. A night is but small breath and little pause To answer matters of this consequence. [Flourish. They exit.] ACT 3 ===== [Enter Chorus.] CHORUS Thus with imagined wing our swift scene flies In motion of no less celerity Than that of thought. Suppose that you have seen The well-appointed king at Dover pier Embark his royalty, and his brave fleet With silken streamers the young Phoebus fanning. Play with your fancies and in them behold, Upon the hempen tackle, shipboys climbing. Hear the shrill whistle, which doth order give To sounds confused. Behold the threaden sails, Borne with th' invisible and creeping wind, Draw the huge bottoms through the furrowed sea, Breasting the lofty surge. O, do but think You stand upon the rivage and behold A city on th' inconstant billows dancing, For so appears this fleet majestical, Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow! Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy, And leave your England, as dead midnight still, Guarded with grandsires, babies, and old women, Either past or not arrived to pith and puissance, For who is he whose chin is but enriched With one appearing hair that will not follow These culled and choice-drawn cavaliers to France? Work, work your thoughts, and therein see a siege; Behold the ordnance on their carriages, With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur. Suppose th' Ambassador from the French comes back, Tells Harry that the King doth offer him Katherine his daughter and with her, to dowry, Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms. The offer likes not, and the nimble gunner With linstock now the devilish cannon touches, [Alarum, and chambers go off.] And down goes all before them. Still be kind, And eke out our performance with your mind. [He exits.] Scene 1 ======= [Enter the King of England, Exeter, Bedford, and Gloucester. Alarum. Enter Soldiers with scaling ladders at Harfleur.] KING HENRY Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, Or close the wall up with our English dead! In peace there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility, But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger: Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, Disguise fair nature with hard-favored rage, Then lend the eye a terrible aspect, Let it pry through the portage of the head Like the brass cannon, let the brow o'erwhelm it As fearfully as doth a galled rock O'erhang and jutty his confounded base Swilled with the wild and wasteful ocean. Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide, Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit To his full height. On, on, you noblest English, Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof, Fathers that, like so many Alexanders, Have in these parts from morn till even fought, And sheathed their swords for lack of argument. Dishonor not your mothers. Now attest That those whom you called fathers did beget you. Be copy now to men of grosser blood And teach them how to war. And you, good yeomen, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture. Let us swear That you are worth your breeding, which I doubt not, For there is none of you so mean and base That hath not noble luster in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot. Follow your spirit, and upon this charge Cry "God for Harry, England, and Saint George!" [Alarum, and chambers go off.] [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Nym, Bardolph, Pistol, and Boy.] BARDOLPH On, on, on, on, on! To the breach, to the breach! NYM Pray thee, corporal, stay. The knocks are too hot, and, for mine own part, I have not a case of lives. The humor of it is too hot; that is the very plainsong of it. PISTOL "The plainsong" is most just, for humors do abound. Knocks go and come. God's vassals drop and die, [Sings] And sword and shield, In bloody field, Doth win immortal fame. BOY Would I were in an alehouse in London! I would give all my fame for a pot of ale, and safety. PISTOL And I. [Sings] If wishes would prevail with me, My purpose should not fail with me, But thither would I hie. BOY [sings] As duly, But not as truly, As bird doth sing on bough. [Enter Fluellen. ] FLUELLEN Up to the breach, you dogs! Avaunt, you cullions! PISTOL Be merciful, great duke, to men of mold. Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage, abate thy rage, great duke. Good bawcock, 'bate thy rage. Use lenity, sweet chuck. NYM, [to Fluellen] These be good humors. Your Honor wins bad humors. [All but the Boy exit.] BOY As young as I am, I have observed these three swashers. I am boy to them all three, but all they three, though they would serve me, could not be man to me. For indeed three such antics do not amount to a man: for Bardolph, he is white-livered and red-faced, by the means whereof he faces it out but fights not; for Pistol, he hath a killing tongue and a quiet sword, by the means whereof he breaks words and keeps whole weapons; for Nym, he hath heard that men of few words are the best men, and therefore he scorns to say his prayers, lest he should be thought a coward, but his few bad words are matched with as few good deeds, for he never broke any man's head but his own, and that was against a post when he was drunk. They will steal anything and call it purchase. Bardolph stole a lute case, bore it twelve leagues, and sold it for three halfpence. Nym and Bardolph are sworn brothers in filching, and in Calais they stole a fire shovel. I knew by that piece of service the men would carry coals. They would have me as familiar with men's pockets as their gloves or their handkerchers, which makes much against my manhood, if I should take from another's pocket to put into mine, for it is plain pocketing up of wrongs. I must leave them and seek some better service. Their villainy goes against my weak stomach, and therefore I must cast it up. [He exits.] [Enter Fluellen and Gower.] GOWER Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to the mines; the Duke of Gloucester would speak with you. FLUELLEN To the mines? Tell you the Duke it is not so good to come to the mines, for, look you, the mines is not according to the disciplines of the war. The concavities of it is not sufficient, for, look you, th' athversary, you may discuss unto the Duke, look you, is digt himself four yard under the countermines. By Cheshu, I think he will plow up all if there is not better directions. GOWER The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the order of the siege is given, is altogether directed by an Irishman, a very valiant gentleman, i' faith. FLUELLEN It is Captain Macmorris, is it not? GOWER I think it be. FLUELLEN By Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the world. I will verify as much in his beard. He has no more directions in the true disciplines of the wars, look you, of the Roman disciplines, than is a puppy dog. [Enter Captain Macmorris, and Captain Jamy.] GOWER Here he comes, and the Scots captain, Captain Jamy, with him. FLUELLEN Captain Jamy is a marvelous falorous gentleman, that is certain, and of great expedition and knowledge in th' aunchient wars, upon my particular knowledge of his directions. By Cheshu, he will maintain his argument as well as any military man in the world in the disciplines of the pristine wars of the Romans. JAMY I say gudday, Captain Fluellen. FLUELLEN Godden to your Worship, good Captain James. GOWER How now, Captain Macmorris, have you quit the mines? Have the pioners given o'er? MACMORRIS By Chrish, la, 'tish ill done. The work ish give over. The trompet sound the retreat. By my hand I swear, and my father's soul, the work ish ill done. It ish give over. I would have blowed up the town, so Chrish save me, la, in an hour. O, 'tish ill done, 'tish ill done, by my hand, 'tish ill done. FLUELLEN Captain Macmorris, I beseech you now, will you voutsafe me, look you, a few disputations with you as partly touching or concerning the disciplines of the war, the Roman wars? In the way of argument, look you, and friendly communication, partly to satisfy my opinion, and partly for the satisfaction, look you, of my mind, as touching the direction of the military discipline, that is the point. JAMY It sall be vary gud, gud feith, gud captens bath, and I sall quit you with gud leve, as I may pick occasion, that sall I, marry. MACMORRIS It is no time to discourse, so Chrish save me. The day is hot, and the weather, and the wars, and the King, and the dukes. It is no time to discourse. The town is beseeched. An the trumpet call us to the breach and we talk and, be Chrish, do nothing, 'tis shame for us all. So God sa' me, 'tis shame to stand still. It is shame, by my hand. And there is throats to be cut, and works to be done, and there ish nothing done, so Christ sa' me, la. JAMY By the Mess, ere theise eyes of mine take themselves to slomber, ay'll de gud service, or I'll lig i' th' grund for it, ay, or go to death. And I'll pay 't as valorously as I may, that sall I suerly do, that is the breff and the long. Marry, I wad full fain heard some question 'tween you tway. FLUELLEN Captain Macmorris, I think, look you, under your correction, there is not many of your nation-- MACMORRIS Of my nation? What ish my nation? Ish a villain and a basterd and a knave and a rascal. What ish my nation? Who talks of my nation? FLUELLEN Look you, if you take the matter otherwise than is meant, Captain Macmorris, peradventure I shall think you do not use me with that affability as, in discretion, you ought to use me, look you, being as good a man as yourself, both in the disciplines of war and in the derivation of my birth, and in other particularities. MACMORRIS I do not know you so good a man as myself. So Chrish save me, I will cut off your head. GOWER Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other. JAMY Ah, that's a foul fault. [A parley sounds.] GOWER The town sounds a parley. FLUELLEN Captain Macmorris, when there is more better opportunity to be required, look you, I will be so bold as to tell you I know the disciplines of war, and there is an end. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter the King of England and all his train before the gates.] KING HENRY, [to the men of Harfleur] How yet resolves the Governor of the town? This is the latest parle we will admit. Therefore to our best mercy give yourselves Or, like to men proud of destruction, Defy us to our worst. For, as I am a soldier, A name that in my thoughts becomes me best, If I begin the batt'ry once again, I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur Till in her ashes she lie buried. The gates of mercy shall be all shut up, And the fleshed soldier, rough and hard of heart, In liberty of bloody hand, shall range With conscience wide as hell, mowing like grass Your fresh fair virgins and your flow'ring infants. What is it then to me if impious war, Arrayed in flames like to the prince of fiends, Do with his smirched complexion all fell feats Enlinked to waste and desolation? What is 't to me, when you yourselves are cause, If your pure maidens fall into the hand Of hot and forcing violation? What rein can hold licentious wickedness When down the hill he holds his fierce career? We may as bootless spend our vain command Upon th' enraged soldiers in their spoil As send precepts to the Leviathan To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harfleur, Take pity of your town and of your people Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command, Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace O'erblows the filthy and contagious clouds Of heady murder, spoil, and villainy. If not, why, in a moment look to see The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand Desire the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters, Your fathers taken by the silver beards And their most reverend heads dashed to the walls, Your naked infants spitted upon pikes Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confused Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen. What say you? Will you yield and this avoid Or, guilty in defense, be thus destroyed? [Enter Governor.] GOVERNOR Our expectation hath this day an end. The Dauphin, whom of succors we entreated, Returns us that his powers are yet not ready To raise so great a siege. Therefore, great king, We yield our town and lives to thy soft mercy. Enter our gates, dispose of us and ours, For we no longer are defensible. KING HENRY Open your gates. [Governor exits.] Come, uncle Exeter, Go you and enter Harfleur. There remain, And fortify it strongly 'gainst the French. Use mercy to them all for us, dear uncle. The winter coming on and sickness growing Upon our soldiers, we will retire to Calais. Tonight in Harfleur will we be your guest. Tomorrow for the march are we addressed. [Flourish, and enter the town.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Katherine and Alice, an old Gentlewoman.] KATHERINE Alice, tu as ete en Angleterre, et tu parles bien le langage. ALICE Un peu, madame. KATHERINE Je te prie, m'enseignez. Il faut que j'apprenne a parler. Comment appelez-vous "la main" en anglais? ALICE La main? Elle est appelee "de hand." KATHERINE De hand. Et "les doigts"? ALICE Les doigts? Ma foi, j'oublie les doigts; mais je me souviendrai. Les doigts? Je pense qu'ils sont appeles "de fingres"; oui, de fingres. KATHERINE La main, de hand. Les doigts, le fingres. Je pense que je suis le bon ecolier. J'ai gagne deux mots d'anglais vitement. Comment appelez-vous "les ongles"? ALICE Les ongles? Nous les appelons "de nailes." KATHERINE De nailes. Ecoutez. Dites-moi si je parle bien: de hand, de fingres, et de nailes. ALICE C'est bien dit, madame. Il est fort bon anglais. KATHERINE Dites-moi l'anglais pour "le bras." ALICE "De arme," madame. KATHERINE Et "le coude"? ALICE "D' elbow." KATHERINE D' elbow. Je m'en fais la repetition de tous les mots que vous m'avez appris des a present. ALICE Il est trop difficile, madame, comme je pense. KATHERINE Excusez-moi, Alice. Ecoutez: d' hand, de fingre, de nailes, d' arma, de bilbow. ALICE D' elbow, madame. KATHERINE O Seigneur Dieu! Je m'en oublie; d' elbow. Comment appelez-vous "le col"? ALICE "De nick," madame. KATHERINE De nick. Et "le menton"? ALICE "De chin." KATHERINE De sin. Le col, de nick; le menton, de sin. ALICE Oui. Sauf votre honneur, en verite vous prononcez les mots aussi droit que les natifs d'Angleterre. KATHERINE Je ne doute point d'apprendre, par le grace de Dieu, et en peu de temps. ALICE N'avez-vous pas deja oublie ce que je vous ai enseigne? KATHERINE Non. Je reciterai a vous promptement: d' hand, de fingre, de mailes-- ALICE De nailes, madame. KATHERINE De nailes, de arme, de ilbow-- ALICE Sauf votre honneur, d' elbow. KATHERINE Ainsi dis-je: d' elbow, de nick, et de sin. Comment appelez-vous "le pied" et "la robe"? ALICE "Le foot," madame, et "le count." KATHERINE Le foot, et le count. O Seigneur Dieu! Ils sont les mots de son mauvais, corruptible, gros, et impudique, et non pour les dames d'honneur d'user. Je ne voudrais prononcer ces mots devant les seigneurs de France, pour tout le monde. Foh! Le foot et le count! Neanmoins, je reciterai une autre fois ma lecon ensemble: d' hand, de fingre, de nailes, d' arme, d' elbow, de nick, de sin, de foot, le count. ALICE Excellent, madame. KATHERINE C'est assez pour une fois. Allons-nous a diner. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter the King of France, the Dauphin, the Duke of Brittany, the Constable of France, and others.] KING OF FRANCE 'Tis certain he hath passed the river Somme. CONSTABLE An if he be not fought withal, my lord, Let us not live in France. Let us quit all, And give our vineyards to a barbarous people. DAUPHIN O Dieu vivant, shall a few sprays of us, The emptying of our fathers' luxury, Our scions, put in wild and savage stock, Spurt up so suddenly into the clouds And overlook their grafters? BRITTANY Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards! Mort de ma vie, if they march along Unfought withal, but I will sell my dukedom To buy a slobb'ry and a dirty farm In that nook-shotten isle of Albion. CONSTABLE Dieu de batailles, where have they this mettle? Is not their climate foggy, raw, and dull, On whom, as in despite, the sun looks pale, Killing their fruit with frowns? Can sodden water, A drench for sur-reined jades, their barley broth, Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat? And shall our quick blood, spirited with wine, Seem frosty? O, for honor of our land, Let us not hang like roping icicles Upon our houses' thatch, whiles a more frosty people Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields! "Poor" we may call them in their native lords. DAUPHIN By faith and honor, Our madams mock at us and plainly say Our mettle is bred out, and they will give Their bodies to the lust of English youth To new-store France with bastard warriors. BRITTANY They bid us to the English dancing-schools, And teach lavoltas high, and swift corantos, Saying our grace is only in our heels And that we are most lofty runaways. KING OF FRANCE Where is Montjoy the herald? Speed him hence. Let him greet England with our sharp defiance. Up, princes, and, with spirit of honor edged More sharper than your swords, hie to the field: Charles Delabreth, High Constable of France; You Dukes of Orleans, Bourbon, and of Berri, Alencon, Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy; Jacques Chatillon, Rambures, Vaudemont, Beaumont, Grandpre, Roussi, and Faulconbridge, Foix, Lestrale, Bouciquault, and Charolois; High dukes, great princes, barons, lords, and knights, For your great seats now quit you of great shames. Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land With pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur. Rush on his host, as doth the melted snow Upon the valleys, whose low vassal seat The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon. Go down upon him--you have power enough-- And in a captive chariot into Rouen Bring him our prisoner. CONSTABLE This becomes the great! Sorry am I his numbers are so few, His soldiers sick and famished in their march, For, I am sure, when he shall see our army, He'll drop his heart into the sink of fear And for achievement offer us his ransom. KING OF FRANCE Therefore, Lord Constable, haste on Montjoy, And let him say to England that we send To know what willing ransom he will give.-- Prince Dauphin, you shall stay with us in Rouen. DAUPHIN Not so, I do beseech your Majesty. KING Be patient, for you shall remain with us.-- Now forth, Lord Constable and princes all, And quickly bring us word of England's fall. [They exit.] Scene 6 ======= [Enter Captains, English and Welsh, Gower and Fluellen.] GOWER How now, Captain Fluellen? Come you from the bridge? FLUELLEN I assure you there is very excellent services committed at the bridge. GOWER Is the Duke of Exeter safe? FLUELLEN The Duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as Agamemnon, and a man that I love and honor with my soul and my heart and my duty and my life and my living and my uttermost power. He is not, God be praised and blessed, any hurt in the world, but keeps the bridge most valiantly, with excellent discipline. There is an aunchient lieutenant there at the pridge; I think in my very conscience he is as valiant a man as Mark Antony, and he is a man of no estimation in the world, but I did see him do as gallant service. GOWER What do you call him? FLUELLEN He is called Aunchient Pistol. GOWER I know him not. [Enter Pistol.] FLUELLEN Here is the man. PISTOL Captain, I thee beseech to do me favors. The Duke of Exeter doth love thee well. FLUELLEN Ay, I praise God, and I have merited some love at his hands. PISTOL Bardolph, a soldier firm and sound of heart and of buxom valor, hath, by cruel Fate and giddy Fortune's furious fickle wheel, that goddess blind, that stands upon the rolling restless stone-- FLUELLEN By your patience, Aunchient Pistol, Fortune is painted blind, with a muffler afore her eyes, to signify to you that Fortune is blind; and she is painted also with a wheel to signify to you, which is the moral of it, that she is turning and inconstant, and mutability and variation; and her foot, look you, is fixed upon a spherical stone, which rolls and rolls and rolls. In good truth, the poet makes a most excellent description of it. Fortune is an excellent moral. PISTOL Fortune is Bardolph's foe and frowns on him, for he hath stolen a pax and hanged must he be. A damned death! Let gallows gape for dog, let man go free, and let not hemp his windpipe suffocate. But Exeter hath given the doom of death for pax of little price. Therefore go speak; the Duke will hear thy voice, and let not Bardolph's vital thread be cut with edge of penny cord and vile reproach. Speak, captain, for his life, and I will thee requite. FLUELLEN Aunchient Pistol, I do partly understand your meaning. PISTOL Why then, rejoice therefore. FLUELLEN Certainly, aunchient, it is not a thing to rejoice at, for if, look you, he were my brother, I would desire the Duke to use his good pleasure and put him to execution, for discipline ought to be used. PISTOL Die and be damned, and figo for thy friendship! FLUELLEN It is well. PISTOL The fig of Spain! [He exits.] FLUELLEN Very good. GOWER Why, this is an arrant counterfeit rascal. I remember him now, a bawd, a cutpurse. FLUELLEN I'll assure you he uttered as prave words at the pridge as you shall see in a summer's day. But it is very well; what he has spoke to me, that is well, I warrant you, when time is serve. GOWER Why, 'tis a gull, a fool, a rogue, that now and then goes to the wars to grace himself at his return into London under the form of a soldier; and such fellows are perfect in the great commanders' names, and they will learn you by rote where services were done--at such and such a sconce, at such a breach, at such a convoy; who came off bravely, who was shot, who disgraced, what terms the enemy stood on; and this they con perfectly in the phrase of war, which they trick up with new-tuned oaths; and what a beard of the general's cut and a horrid suit of the camp will do among foaming bottles and ale-washed wits is wonderful to be thought on. But you must learn to know such slanders of the age, or else you may be marvelously mistook. FLUELLEN I tell you what, Captain Gower. I do perceive he is not the man that he would gladly make show to the world he is. If I find a hole in his coat, I will tell him my mind. [Drum and Colors. Enter the King of England and his poor Soldiers, and Gloucester.] Hark you, the King is coming, and I must speak with him from the pridge.--God pless your Majesty. KING HENRY How now, Fluellen, cam'st thou from the bridge? FLUELLEN Ay, so please your Majesty. The Duke of Exeter has very gallantly maintained the pridge. The French is gone off, look you, and there is gallant and most prave passages. Marry, th' athversary was have possession of the pridge, but he is enforced to retire, and the Duke of Exeter is master of the pridge. I can tell your Majesty, the Duke is a prave man. KING HENRY What men have you lost, Fluellen? FLUELLEN The perdition of th' athversary hath been very great, reasonable great. Marry, for my part, I think the Duke hath lost never a man but one that is like to be executed for robbing a church, one Bardolph, if your Majesty know the man. His face is all bubukles and whelks and knobs and flames o' fire; and his lips blows at his nose, and it is like a coal of fire, sometimes plue and sometimes red, but his nose is executed, and his fire's out. KING HENRY We would have all such offenders so cut off; and we give express charge that in our marches through the country there be nothing compelled from the villages, nothing taken but paid for, none of the French upbraided or abused in disdainful language; for when lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom, the gentler gamester is the soonest winner. [Tucket. Enter Montjoy.] MONTJOY You know me by my habit. KING HENRY Well then, I know thee. What shall I know of thee? MONTJOY My master's mind. KING HENRY Unfold it. MONTJOY Thus says my king: "Say thou to Harry of England, though we seemed dead, we did but sleep. Advantage is a better soldier than rashness. Tell him we could have rebuked him at Harfleur, but that we thought not good to bruise an injury till it were full ripe. Now we speak upon our cue, and our voice is imperial. England shall repent his folly, see his weakness, and admire our sufferance. Bid him therefore consider of his ransom, which must proportion the losses we have borne, the subjects we have lost, the disgrace we have digested, which, in weight to reanswer, his pettiness would bow under. For our losses, his exchequer is too poor; for th' effusion of our blood, the muster of his kingdom too faint a number; and for our disgrace, his own person kneeling at our feet but a weak and worthless satisfaction. To this, add defiance, and tell him, for conclusion, he hath betrayed his followers, whose condemnation is pronounced." So far my king and master; so much my office. KING HENRY What is thy name? I know thy quality. MONTJOY Montjoy. KING HENRY Thou dost thy office fairly. Turn thee back, And tell thy king I do not seek him now But could be willing to march on to Calais Without impeachment, for, to say the sooth, Though 'tis no wisdom to confess so much Unto an enemy of craft and vantage, My people are with sickness much enfeebled, My numbers lessened, and those few I have Almost no better than so many French, Who when they were in health, I tell thee, herald, I thought upon one pair of English legs Did march three Frenchmen. Yet forgive me, God, That I do brag thus. This your air of France Hath blown that vice in me. I must repent. Go therefore, tell thy master: here I am. My ransom is this frail and worthless trunk, My army but a weak and sickly guard, Yet, God before, tell him we will come on Though France himself and such another neighbor Stand in our way. There's for thy labor, Montjoy. [Gives money.] Go bid thy master well advise himself: If we may pass, we will; if we be hindered, We shall your tawny ground with your red blood Discolor. And so, Montjoy, fare you well. The sum of all our answer is but this: We would not seek a battle as we are, Nor, as we are, we say we will not shun it. So tell your master. MONTJOY I shall deliver so. Thanks to your Highness. [He exits.] GLOUCESTER I hope they will not come upon us now. KING HENRY We are in God's hand, brother, not in theirs. March to the bridge. It now draws toward night. Beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves, And on tomorrow bid them march away. [They exit.] Scene 7 ======= [Enter the Constable of France, the Lord Rambures, Orleans, Dauphin, with others.] CONSTABLE Tut, I have the best armor of the world. Would it were day! ORLEANS You have an excellent armor, but let my horse have his due. CONSTABLE It is the best horse of Europe. ORLEANS Will it never be morning? DAUPHIN My Lord of Orleans and my Lord High Constable, you talk of horse and armor? ORLEANS You are as well provided of both as any prince in the world. DAUPHIN What a long night is this! I will not change my horse with any that treads but on four pasterns. Ca, ha! He bounds from the earth, as if his entrails were hairs, le cheval volant, the Pegasus, qui a les narines de feu. When I bestride him, I soar; I am a hawk; he trots the air. The earth sings when he touches it. The basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes. ORLEANS He's of the color of the nutmeg. DAUPHIN And of the heat of the ginger. It is a beast for Perseus. He is pure air and fire, and the dull elements of earth and water never appear in him, but only in patient stillness while his rider mounts him. He is indeed a horse, and all other jades you may call beasts. CONSTABLE Indeed, my lord, it is a most absolute and excellent horse. DAUPHIN It is the prince of palfreys; his neigh is like the bidding of a monarch, and his countenance enforces homage. ORLEANS No more, cousin. DAUPHIN Nay, the man hath no wit that cannot, from the rising of the lark to the lodging of the lamb, vary deserved praise on my palfrey. It is a theme as fluent as the sea. Turn the sands into eloquent tongues, and my horse is argument for them all. 'Tis a subject for a sovereign to reason on, and for a sovereign's sovereign to ride on, and for the world, familiar to us and unknown, to lay apart their particular functions and wonder at him. I once writ a sonnet in his praise and began thus: "Wonder of nature--" ORLEANS I have heard a sonnet begin so to one's mistress. DAUPHIN Then did they imitate that which I composed to my courser, for my horse is my mistress. ORLEANS Your mistress bears well. DAUPHIN Me well--which is the prescript praise and perfection of a good and particular mistress. CONSTABLE Nay, for methought yesterday your mistress shrewdly shook your back. DAUPHIN So perhaps did yours. CONSTABLE Mine was not bridled. DAUPHIN O, then belike she was old and gentle, and you rode like a kern of Ireland, your French hose off, and in your strait strossers. CONSTABLE You have good judgment in horsemanship. DAUPHIN Be warned by me, then: they that ride so, and ride not warily, fall into foul bogs. I had rather have my horse to my mistress. CONSTABLE I had as lief have my mistress a jade. DAUPHIN I tell thee, constable, my mistress wears his own hair. CONSTABLE I could make as true a boast as that if I had a sow to my mistress. DAUPHIN "Le chien est retourne a son propre vomissement, et la truie lavee au bourbier." Thou mak'st use of anything. CONSTABLE Yet do I not use my horse for my mistress, or any such proverb so little kin to the purpose. RAMBURES My Lord Constable, the armor that I saw in your tent tonight, are those stars or suns upon it? CONSTABLE Stars, my lord. DAUPHIN Some of them will fall tomorrow, I hope. CONSTABLE And yet my sky shall not want. DAUPHIN That may be, for you bear a many superfluously, and 'twere more honor some were away. CONSTABLE Ev'n as your horse bears your praises-- who would trot as well were some of your brags dismounted. DAUPHIN Would I were able to load him with his desert! Will it never be day? I will trot tomorrow a mile, and my way shall be paved with English faces. CONSTABLE I will not say so for fear I should be faced out of my way. But I would it were morning, for I would fain be about the ears of the English. RAMBURES Who will go to hazard with me for twenty prisoners? CONSTABLE You must first go yourself to hazard ere you have them. DAUPHIN 'Tis midnight. I'll go arm myself. [He exits.] ORLEANS The Dauphin longs for morning. RAMBURES He longs to eat the English. CONSTABLE I think he will eat all he kills. ORLEANS By the white hand of my lady, he's a gallant prince. CONSTABLE Swear by her foot, that she may tread out the oath. ORLEANS He is simply the most active gentleman of France. CONSTABLE Doing is activity, and he will still be doing. ORLEANS He never did harm, that I heard of. CONSTABLE Nor will do none tomorrow. He will keep that good name still. ORLEANS I know him to be valiant. CONSTABLE I was told that by one that knows him better than you. ORLEANS What's he? CONSTABLE Marry, he told me so himself, and he said he cared not who knew it. ORLEANS He needs not. It is no hidden virtue in him. CONSTABLE By my faith, sir, but it is; never anybody saw it but his lackey. 'Tis a hooded valor, and when it appears, it will bate. ORLEANS Ill will never said well. CONSTABLE I will cap that proverb with "There is flattery in friendship." ORLEANS And I will take up that with "Give the devil his due." CONSTABLE Well placed; there stands your friend for the devil. Have at the very eye of that proverb with "A pox of the devil." ORLEANS You are the better at proverbs, by how much "A fool's bolt is soon shot." CONSTABLE You have shot over. ORLEANS 'Tis not the first time you were overshot. [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER My Lord High Constable, the English lie within fifteen hundred paces of your tents. CONSTABLE Who hath measured the ground? MESSENGER The Lord Grandpre. CONSTABLE A valiant and most expert gentleman.-- Would it were day! Alas, poor Harry of England! He longs not for the dawning as we do. ORLEANS What a wretched and peevish fellow is this King of England to mope with his fat-brained followers so far out of his knowledge. CONSTABLE If the English had any apprehension, they would run away. ORLEANS That they lack; for if their heads had any intellectual armor, they could never wear such heavy headpieces. RAMBURES That island of England breeds very valiant creatures. Their mastiffs are of unmatchable courage. ORLEANS Foolish curs, that run winking into the mouth of a Russian bear and have their heads crushed like rotten apples. You may as well say that's a valiant flea that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion. CONSTABLE Just, just; and the men do sympathize with the mastiffs in robustious and rough coming on, leaving their wits with their wives. And then give them great meals of beef and iron and steel, they will eat like wolves and fight like devils. ORLEANS Ay, but these English are shrewdly out of beef. CONSTABLE Then shall we find tomorrow they have only stomachs to eat and none to fight. Now is it time to arm. Come, shall we about it? ORLEANS It is now two o'clock. But, let me see, by ten We shall have each a hundred Englishmen. [They exit.] ACT 4 ===== [Enter Chorus.] CHORUS Now entertain conjecture of a time When creeping murmur and the poring dark Fills the wide vessel of the universe. From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night, The hum of either army stilly sounds, That the fixed sentinels almost receive The secret whispers of each other's watch. Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames Each battle sees the other's umbered face; Steed threatens steed in high and boastful neighs Piercing the night's dull ear; and from the tents The armorers, accomplishing the knights, With busy hammers closing rivets up, Give dreadful note of preparation. The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll, And, the third hour of drowsy morning named, Proud of their numbers and secure in soul, The confident and overlusty French Do the low-rated English play at dice And chide the cripple, tardy-gaited night, Who like a foul and ugly witch doth limp So tediously away. The poor condemned English, Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires Sit patiently and inly ruminate The morning's danger; and their gesture sad, Investing lank-lean cheeks and war-worn coats, Presenteth them unto the gazing moon So many horrid ghosts. O now, who will behold The royal captain of this ruined band Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent, Let him cry, "Praise and glory on his head!" For forth he goes and visits all his host, Bids them good morrow with a modest smile, And calls them brothers, friends, and countrymen. Upon his royal face there is no note How dread an army hath enrounded him, Nor doth he dedicate one jot of color Unto the weary and all-watched night, But freshly looks and overbears attaint With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty, That every wretch, pining and pale before, Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks. A largesse universal, like the sun, His liberal eye doth give to everyone, Thawing cold fear, that mean and gentle all Behold, as may unworthiness define, A little touch of Harry in the night. And so our scene must to the battle fly, Where, O for pity, we shall much disgrace, With four or five most vile and ragged foils Right ill-disposed in brawl ridiculous, The name of Agincourt. Yet sit and see, Minding true things by what their mock'ries be. [He exits.] Scene 1 ======= [Enter the King of England, Bedford, and Gloucester.] KING HENRY Gloucester, 'tis true that we are in great danger. The greater therefore should our courage be.-- Good morrow, brother Bedford. God almighty, There is some soul of goodness in things evil, Would men observingly distill it out. For our bad neighbor makes us early stirrers, Which is both healthful and good husbandry. Besides, they are our outward consciences And preachers to us all, admonishing That we should dress us fairly for our end. Thus may we gather honey from the weed And make a moral of the devil himself. [Enter Erpingham.] Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham. A good soft pillow for that good white head Were better than a churlish turf of France. ERPINGHAM Not so, my liege, this lodging likes me better, Since I may say "Now lie I like a king." KING HENRY 'Tis good for men to love their present pains Upon example. So the spirit is eased; And when the mind is quickened, out of doubt, The organs, though defunct and dead before, Break up their drowsy grave and newly move With casted slough and fresh legerity. Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas. [He puts on Erpingham's cloak.] Brothers both, Commend me to the princes in our camp, Do my good morrow to them, and anon Desire them all to my pavilion. GLOUCESTER We shall, my liege. ERPINGHAM Shall I attend your Grace? KING HENRY No, my good knight. Go with my brothers to my lords of England. I and my bosom must debate awhile, And then I would no other company. ERPINGHAM The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry. [All but the King exit.] KING HENRY God-a-mercy, old heart, thou speak'st cheerfully. [Enter Pistol.] PISTOL Qui vous la? KING HENRY A friend. PISTOL Discuss unto me: art thou officer or art thou base, common, and popular? KING HENRY I am a gentleman of a company. PISTOL Trail'st thou the puissant pike? KING HENRY Even so. What are you? PISTOL As good a gentleman as the Emperor. KING HENRY Then you are a better than the King. PISTOL The King's a bawcock and a heart of gold, a lad of life, an imp of fame, of parents good, of fist most valiant. I kiss his dirty shoe, and from heartstring I love the lovely bully. What is thy name? KING HENRY Harry le Roy. PISTOL Le Roy? A Cornish name. Art thou of Cornish crew? KING HENRY No, I am a Welshman. PISTOL Know'st thou Fluellen? KING HENRY Yes. PISTOL Tell him I'll knock his leek about his pate upon Saint Davy's day. KING HENRY Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day, lest he knock that about yours. PISTOL Art thou his friend? KING HENRY And his kinsman too. PISTOL The figo for thee then! KING HENRY I thank you. God be with you. PISTOL My name is Pistol called. [He exits.] KING HENRY It sorts well with your fierceness. [He steps aside.] [Enter Fluellen and Gower.] GOWER Captain Fluellen. FLUELLEN ’So. In the name of Jesu Christ, speak fewer. It is the greatest admiration in the universal world when the true and aunchient prerogatifes and laws of the wars is not kept. If you would take the pains but to examine the wars of Pompey the Great, you shall find, I warrant you, that there is no tiddle taddle nor pibble babble in Pompey's camp. I warrant you, you shall find the ceremonies of the wars and the cares of it and the forms of it and the sobriety of it and the modesty of it to be otherwise. GOWER Why, the enemy is loud. You hear him all night. FLUELLEN If the enemy is an ass and a fool and a prating coxcomb, is it meet, think you, that we should also, look you, be an ass and a fool and a prating coxcomb, in your own conscience now? GOWER I will speak lower. FLUELLEN I pray you and beseech you that you will. [Gower and Fluellen exit.] KING HENRY Though it appear a little out of fashion, There is much care and valor in this Welshman. [Enter three Soldiers, John Bates, Alexander Court, and Michael Williams.] COURT Brother John Bates, is not that the morning which breaks yonder? BATES I think it be, but we have no great cause to desire the approach of day. WILLIAMS We see yonder the beginning of the day, but I think we shall never see the end of it.--Who goes there? KING HENRY A friend. WILLIAMS Under what captain serve you? KING HENRY Under Sir Thomas Erpingham. WILLIAMS A good old commander and a most kind gentleman. I pray you, what thinks he of our estate? KING HENRY Even as men wracked upon a sand, that look to be washed off the next tide. BATES He hath not told his thought to the King? KING HENRY No. Nor it is not meet he should, for, though I speak it to you, I think the King is but a man as I am. The violet smells to him as it doth to me. The element shows to him as it doth to me. All his senses have but human conditions. His ceremonies laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a man, and though his affections are higher mounted than ours, yet when they stoop, they stoop with the like wing. Therefore, when he sees reason of fears as we do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the same relish as ours are. Yet, in reason, no man should possess him with any appearance of fear, lest he, by showing it, should dishearten his army. BATES He may show what outward courage he will, but I believe, as cold a night as 'tis, he could wish himself in Thames up to the neck; and so I would he were, and I by him, at all adventures, so we were quit here. KING HENRY By my troth, I will speak my conscience of the King. I think he would not wish himself anywhere but where he is. BATES Then I would he were here alone; so should he be sure to be ransomed, and a many poor men's lives saved. KING HENRY I dare say you love him not so ill to wish him here alone, howsoever you speak this to feel other men's minds. Methinks I could not die anywhere so contented as in the King's company, his cause being just and his quarrel honorable. WILLIAMS That's more than we know. BATES Ay, or more than we should seek after, for we know enough if we know we are the King's subjects. If his cause be wrong, our obedience to the King wipes the crime of it out of us. WILLIAMS But if the cause be not good, the King himself hath a heavy reckoning to make, when all those legs and arms and heads, chopped off in a battle, shall join together at the latter day, and cry all "We died at such a place," some swearing, some crying for a surgeon, some upon their wives left poor behind them, some upon the debts they owe, some upon their children rawly left. I am afeard there are few die well that die in a battle, for how can they charitably dispose of anything when blood is their argument? Now, if these men do not die well, it will be a black matter for the king that led them to it, who to disobey were against all proportion of subjection. KING HENRY So, if a son that is by his father sent about merchandise do sinfully miscarry upon the sea, the imputation of his wickedness, by your rule, should be imposed upon his father that sent him. Or if a servant, under his master's command transporting a sum of money, be assailed by robbers and die in many irreconciled iniquities, you may call the business of the master the author of the servant's damnation. But this is not so. The King is not bound to answer the particular endings of his soldiers, the father of his son, nor the master of his servant, for they purpose not their death when they purpose their services. Besides, there is no king, be his cause never so spotless, if it come to the arbitrament of swords, can try it out with all unspotted soldiers. Some, peradventure, have on them the guilt of premeditated and contrived murder; some, of beguiling virgins with the broken seals of perjury; some, making the wars their bulwark, that have before gored the gentle bosom of peace with pillage and robbery. Now, if these men have defeated the law and outrun native punishment, though they can outstrip men, they have no wings to fly from God. War is His beadle, war is His vengeance, so that here men are punished for before-breach of the King's laws in now the King's quarrel. Where they feared the death, they have borne life away; and where they would be safe, they perish. Then, if they die unprovided, no more is the King guilty of their damnation than he was before guilty of those impieties for the which they are now visited. Every subject's duty is the King's, but every subject's soul is his own. Therefore should every soldier in the wars do as every sick man in his bed: wash every mote out of his conscience. And, dying so, death is to him advantage; or not dying, the time was blessedly lost wherein such preparation was gained. And in him that escapes, it were not sin to think that, making God so free an offer, He let him outlive that day to see His greatness and to teach others how they should prepare. WILLIAMS 'Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill upon his own head; the King is not to answer it. BATES I do not desire he should answer for me, and yet I determine to fight lustily for him. KING HENRY I myself heard the King say he would not be ransomed. WILLIAMS Ay, he said so to make us fight cheerfully, but when our throats are cut, he may be ransomed and we ne'er the wiser. KING HENRY If I live to see it, I will never trust his word after. WILLIAMS You pay him then. That's a perilous shot out of an elder gun, that a poor and a private displeasure can do against a monarch. You may as well go about to turn the sun to ice with fanning in his face with a peacock's feather. You'll "never trust his word after." Come, 'tis a foolish saying. KING HENRY Your reproof is something too round. I should be angry with you if the time were convenient. WILLIAMS Let it be a quarrel between us, if you live. KING HENRY I embrace it. WILLIAMS How shall I know thee again? KING HENRY Give me any gage of thine, and I will wear it in my bonnet. Then, if ever thou dar'st acknowledge it, I will make it my quarrel. WILLIAMS Here's my glove. Give me another of thine. KING HENRY There. [They exchange gloves.] WILLIAMS This will I also wear in my cap. If ever thou come to me and say, after tomorrow, "This is my glove," by this hand I will take thee a box on the ear. KING HENRY If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it. WILLIAMS Thou dar'st as well be hanged. KING HENRY Well, I will do it, though I take thee in the King's company. WILLIAMS Keep thy word. Fare thee well. BATES Be friends, you English fools, be friends. We have French quarrels enough, if you could tell how to reckon. KING HENRY Indeed, the French may lay twenty French crowns to one they will beat us, for they bear them on their shoulders. But it is no English treason to cut French crowns, and tomorrow the King himself will be a clipper. [Soldiers exit.] Upon the King! Let us our lives, our souls, our debts, our careful wives, our children, and our sins, lay on the King! We must bear all. O hard condition, Twin-born with greatness, subject to the breath Of every fool whose sense no more can feel But his own wringing. What infinite heart's ease Must kings neglect that private men enjoy? And what have kings that privates have not too, Save ceremony, save general ceremony? And what art thou, thou idol ceremony? What kind of god art thou that suffer'st more Of mortal griefs than do thy worshipers? What are thy rents? What are thy comings-in? O ceremony, show me but thy worth! What is thy soul of adoration? Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form, Creating awe and fear in other men, Wherein thou art less happy, being feared, Than they in fearing? What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, But poisoned flattery? O, be sick, great greatness, And bid thy ceremony give thee cure! Think'st thou the fiery fever will go out With titles blown from adulation? Will it give place to flexure and low bending? Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee, Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream, That play'st so subtly with a king's repose. I am a king that find thee, and I know 'Tis not the balm, the scepter, and the ball, The sword, the mace, the crown imperial, The intertissued robe of gold and pearl, The farced title running 'fore the King, The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp That beats upon the high shore of this world; No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony, Not all these, laid in bed majestical, Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave Who, with a body filled and vacant mind, Gets him to rest, crammed with distressful bread; Never sees horrid night, the child of hell, But, like a lackey, from the rise to set Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night Sleeps in Elysium; next day after dawn Doth rise and help Hyperion to his horse, And follows so the ever-running year With profitable labor to his grave. And, but for ceremony, such a wretch, Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep, Had the forehand and vantage of a king. The slave, a member of the country's peace, Enjoys it, but in gross brain little wots What watch the King keeps to maintain the peace, Whose hours the peasant best advantages. [Enter Erpingham.] ERPINGHAM My lord, your nobles, jealous of your absence, Seek through your camp to find you. KING HENRY Good old knight, Collect them all together at my tent. I'll be before thee. ERPINGHAM I shall do 't, my lord. [He exits.] KING HENRY O God of battles, steel my soldiers' hearts. Possess them not with fear. Take from them now The sense of reck'ning or th' opposed numbers Pluck their hearts from them. Not today, O Lord, O, not today, think not upon the fault My father made in compassing the crown. I Richard's body have interred new And on it have bestowed more contrite tears Than from it issued forced drops of blood. Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay Who twice a day their withered hands hold up Toward heaven to pardon blood. And I have built Two chantries where the sad and solemn priests Sing still for Richard's soul. More will I do-- Though all that I can do is nothing worth, Since that my penitence comes after all, Imploring pardon. [Enter Gloucester.] GLOUCESTER My liege. KING HENRY My brother Gloucester's voice.--Ay, I know thy errand. I will go with thee. The day, my friends, and all things stay for me. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter the Dauphin, Orleans, Rambures, and Beaumont.] ORLEANS The sun doth gild our armor. Up, my lords. DAUPHIN Montez a cheval! My horse, varlet! Lackey! Ha! ORLEANS O brave spirit! DAUPHIN Via les eaux et terre. ORLEANS Rien puis? L'air et feu? DAUPHIN Cieux, cousin Orleans. [Enter Constable.] Now, my Lord Constable? CONSTABLE Hark how our steeds for present service neigh. DAUPHIN Mount them, and make incision in their hides, That their hot blood may spin in English eyes And dout them with superfluous courage. Ha! RAMBURES What, will you have them weep our horses' blood? How shall we then behold their natural tears? [Enter Messenger.] MESSENGER The English are embattled, you French peers. CONSTABLE To horse, you gallant princes, straight to horse. Do but behold yond poor and starved band, And your fair show shall suck away their souls, Leaving them but the shales and husks of men. There is not work enough for all our hands, Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins To give each naked curtal ax a stain, That our French gallants shall today draw out And sheathe for lack of sport. Let us but blow on them, The vapor of our valor will o'erturn them. 'Tis positive against all exceptions, lords, That our superfluous lackeys and our peasants, Who in unnecessary action swarm About our squares of battle, were enough To purge this field of such a hilding foe, Though we upon this mountain's basis by Took stand for idle speculation, But that our honors must not. What's to say? A very little little let us do, And all is done. Then let the trumpets sound The tucket sonance and the note to mount, For our approach shall so much dare the field That England shall couch down in fear and yield. [Enter Grandpre.] GRANDPRE Why do you stay so long, my lords of France? Yond island carrions, desperate of their bones, Ill-favoredly become the morning field. Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose, And our air shakes them passing scornfully. Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggared host And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps. The horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks With torch staves in their hand, and their poor jades Lob down their heads, drooping the hides and hips, The gum down-roping from their pale dead eyes, And in their pale dull mouths the gemeled bit Lies foul with chawed grass, still and motionless. And their executors, the knavish crows, Fly o'er them all, impatient for their hour. Description cannot suit itself in words To demonstrate the life of such a battle In life so lifeless, as it shows itself. CONSTABLE They have said their prayers, and they stay for death. DAUPHIN Shall we go send them dinners and fresh suits, And give their fasting horses provender, And after fight with them? CONSTABLE I stay but for my guard. On, to the field! I will the banner from a trumpet take And use it for my haste. Come, come away. The sun is high, and we outwear the day. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Gloucester, Bedford, Exeter, Erpingham with all his host, Salisbury, and Westmoreland.] GLOUCESTER Where is the King? BEDFORD The King himself is rode to view their battle. WESTMORELAND Of fighting men they have full threescore thousand. EXETER There's five to one. Besides, they all are fresh. SALISBURY God's arm strike with us! 'Tis a fearful odds. God be wi' you, princes all. I'll to my charge. If we no more meet till we meet in heaven, Then joyfully, my noble Lord of Bedford, My dear Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord Exeter, And my kind kinsman, warriors all, adieu. BEDFORD Farewell, good Salisbury, and good luck go with thee. And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it, For thou art framed of the firm truth of valor. EXETER Farewell, kind lord. Fight valiantly today. [Salisbury exits.] BEDFORD He is as full of valor as of kindness, Princely in both. [Enter the King of England.] WESTMORELAND O, that we now had here But one ten thousand of those men in England That do no work today. KING HENRY What's he that wishes so? My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin. If we are marked to die, we are enough To do our country loss; and if to live, The fewer men, the greater share of honor. God's will, I pray thee wish not one man more. By Jove, I am not covetous for gold, Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost; It yearns me not if men my garments wear; Such outward things dwell not in my desires. But if it be a sin to covet honor, I am the most offending soul alive. No, 'faith, my coz, wish not a man from England. God's peace, I would not lose so great an honor As one man more, methinks, would share from me, For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more! Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host, That he which hath no stomach to this fight, Let him depart. His passport shall be made, And crowns for convoy put into his purse. We would not die in that man's company That fears his fellowship to die with us. This day is called the feast of Crispian. He that outlives this day and comes safe home Will stand o' tiptoe when this day is named And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He that shall see this day, and live old age, Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbors And say "Tomorrow is Saint Crispian." Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars. Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot, But he'll remember with advantages What feats he did that day. Then shall our names, Familiar in his mouth as household words, Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester, Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered. This story shall the good man teach his son, And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered-- We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he today that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition; And gentlemen in England now abed Shall think themselves accursed they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day. [Enter Salisbury.] SALISBURY My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with speed. The French are bravely in their battles set, And will with all expedience charge on us. KING HENRY All things are ready if our minds be so. WESTMORELAND Perish the man whose mind is backward now! KING HENRY Thou dost not wish more help from England, coz? WESTMORELAND God's will, my liege, would you and I alone, Without more help, could fight this royal battle! KING HENRY Why, now thou hast unwished five thousand men, Which likes me better than to wish us one.-- You know your places. God be with you all. [Tucket. Enter Montjoy.] MONTJOY Once more I come to know of thee, King Harry, If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound, Before thy most assured overthrow. For certainly thou art so near the gulf Thou needs must be englutted. Besides, in mercy, The Constable desires thee thou wilt mind Thy followers of repentance, that their souls May make a peaceful and a sweet retire From off these fields where, wretches, their poor bodies Must lie and fester. KING HENRY Who hath sent thee now? MONTJOY The Constable of France. KING HENRY I pray thee bear my former answer back. Bid them achieve me and then sell my bones. Good God, why should they mock poor fellows thus? The man that once did sell the lion's skin While the beast lived was killed with hunting him. A many of our bodies shall no doubt Find native graves, upon the which, I trust, Shall witness live in brass of this day's work. And those that leave their valiant bones in France, Dying like men, though buried in your dunghills, They shall be famed; for there the sun shall greet them And draw their honors reeking up to heaven, Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime, The smell whereof shall breed a plague in France. Mark, then, abounding valor in our English, That being dead, like to the bullet's crazing, Break out into a second course of mischief, Killing in relapse of mortality. Let me speak proudly: tell the Constable We are but warriors for the working day; Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirched With rainy marching in the painful field. There's not a piece of feather in our host-- Good argument, I hope, we will not fly-- And time hath worn us into slovenry. But, by the Mass, our hearts are in the trim, And my poor soldiers tell me, yet ere night They'll be in fresher robes, or they will pluck The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers' heads And turn them out of service. If they do this, As, if God please, they shall, my ransom then Will soon be levied. Herald, save thou thy labor. Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald. They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints, Which, if they have, as I will leave 'em them, Shall yield them little, tell the Constable. MONTJOY I shall, King Harry. And so fare thee well. Thou never shalt hear herald anymore. KING HENRY I fear thou wilt once more come again for a ransom. [Montjoy exits.] [Enter York. ] YORK, [kneeling] My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg The leading of the vaward. KING HENRY Take it, brave York. [York rises.] Now, soldiers, march away, And how Thou pleasest, God, dispose the day. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Alarum. Excursions. Enter Pistol, French Soldier, and Boy.] PISTOL Yield, cur. FRENCH SOLDIER Je pense que vous etes le gentilhomme de bonne qualite. PISTOL Qualtitie calmie custure me. Art thou a gentleman? What is thy name? Discuss. FRENCH SOLDIER O Seigneur Dieu! PISTOL O, Seigneur Dew should be a gentleman. Perpend my words, O Seigneur Dew, and mark: O Seigneur Dew, thou diest on point of fox, except, O Seigneur, thou do give to me egregious ransom. FRENCH SOLDIER O, prenez misericorde! Ayez pitie de moi! PISTOL Moy shall not serve. I will have forty moys, or I will fetch thy rim out at thy throat in drops of crimson blood. FRENCH SOLDIER Est-il impossible d'echapper la force de ton bras? PISTOL Brass, cur? Thou damned and luxurious mountain goat, offer'st me brass? FRENCH SOLDIER O, pardonnez-moi! PISTOL Say'st thou me so? Is that a ton of moys?-- Come hither, boy. Ask me this slave in French what is his name. BOY Ecoutez. Comment etes-vous appele? FRENCH SOLDIER Monsieur le Fer. BOY He says his name is Master Fer. PISTOL Master Fer. I'll fer him, and firk him, and ferret him. Discuss the same in French unto him. BOY I do not know the French for "fer," and "ferret," and "firk." PISTOL Bid him prepare, for I will cut his throat. FRENCH SOLDIER, [to the Boy] Que dit-il, monsieur? BOY Il me commande a vous dire que vous faites vous pret, car ce soldat ici est dispose tout a cette heure de couper votre gorge. PISTOL Owy, cuppele gorge, permafoy, peasant, unless thou give me crowns, brave crowns, or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword. FRENCH SOLDIER O, je vous supplie, pour l'amour de Dieu, me pardonner. Je suis le gentilhomme de bonne maison. Gardez ma vie, et je vous donnerai deux cents ecus. PISTOL What are his words? BOY He prays you to save his life. He is a gentleman of a good house, and for his ransom he will give you two hundred crowns. PISTOL Tell him my fury shall abate, and I the crowns will take. FRENCH SOLDIER, [to the Boy] Petit monsieur, que dit-il? BOY Encore qu'il est contre son jurement de pardonner aucun prisonnier; neanmoins, pour les ecus que vous lui avez promis, il est content a vous donner la liberte, le franchisement. [French soldier kneels.] FRENCH SOLDIER Sur mes genoux je vous donne mille remerciments, et je m'estime heureux que j'ai tombe entre les mains d'un chevalier, je pense, le plus brave, vaillant, et tres distingue seigneur d'Angleterre. PISTOL Expound unto me, boy. BOY He gives you upon his knees a thousand thanks, and he esteems himself happy that he hath fall'n into the hands of one, as he thinks, the most brave, valorous, and thrice-worthy seigneur of England. PISTOL As I suck blood, I will some mercy show. Follow me. BOY Suivez-vous le grand capitaine. [The French Soldier stands up. He and Pistol exit.] I did never know so full a voice issue from so empty a heart. But the saying is true: "The empty vessel makes the greatest sound." Bardolph and Nym had ten times more valor than this roaring devil i' th' old play, that everyone may pare his nails with a wooden dagger, and they are both hanged, and so would this be if he durst steal anything adventurously. I must stay with the lackeys with the luggage of our camp. The French might have a good prey of us if he knew of it, for there is none to guard it but boys. [He exits.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Constable, Orleans, Bourbon, Dauphin, and Rambures.] CONSTABLE O diable! ORLEANS O Seigneur! Le jour est perdu, tout est perdu! DAUPHIN Mort de ma vie, all is confounded, all! Reproach and everlasting shame Sits mocking in our plumes. [A short Alarum.] O mechante Fortune! Do not run away. CONSTABLE Why, all our ranks are broke. DAUPHIN O perdurable shame! Let's stab ourselves. Be these the wretches that we played at dice for? ORLEANS Is this the king we sent to for his ransom? BOURBON Shame, and eternal shame, nothing but shame! Let us die. In once more! Back again! And he that will not follow Bourbon now, Let him go hence, and with his cap in hand Like a base pander hold the chamber door, Whilst by a slave, no gentler than my dog, His fairest daughter is contaminate. CONSTABLE Disorder, that hath spoiled us, friend us now. Let us on heaps go offer up our lives. ORLEANS We are enough yet living in the field To smother up the English in our throngs, If any order might be thought upon. BOURBON The devil take order now! I'll to the throng. Let life be short, else shame will be too long. [They exit.] Scene 6 ======= [Alarum. Enter the King of England and his train, with prisoners.] KING HENRY Well have we done, thrice-valiant countrymen, But all's not done. Yet keep the French the field. [Enter Exeter.] EXETER The Duke of York commends him to your Majesty. KING HENRY Lives he, good uncle? Thrice within this hour I saw him down, thrice up again and fighting. From helmet to the spur, all blood he was. EXETER In which array, brave soldier, doth he lie, Larding the plain, and by his bloody side, Yoke-fellow to his honor-owing wounds, The noble Earl of Suffolk also lies. Suffolk first died, and York, all haggled over, Comes to him where in gore he lay insteeped, And takes him by the beard, kisses the gashes That bloodily did yawn upon his face. He cries aloud "Tarry, my cousin Suffolk. My soul shall thine keep company to heaven. Tarry, sweet soul, for mine; then fly abreast, As in this glorious and well-foughten field We kept together in our chivalry." Upon these words I came and cheered him up. He smiled me in the face, raught me his hand, And with a feeble grip, says "Dear my lord, Commend my service to my sovereign." So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck He threw his wounded arm and kissed his lips, And so, espoused to death, with blood he sealed A testament of noble-ending love. The pretty and sweet manner of it forced Those waters from me which I would have stopped, But I had not so much of man in me, And all my mother came into mine eyes And gave me up to tears. KING HENRY I blame you not, For, hearing this, I must perforce compound With my full eyes, or they will issue too. [Alarum.] But hark, what new alarum is this same? The French have reinforced their scattered men. Then every soldier kill his prisoners. Give the word through. [They exit.] Scene 7 ======= [Enter Fluellen and Gower.] FLUELLEN Kill the poys and the luggage! 'Tis expressly against the law of arms. 'Tis as arrant a piece of knavery, mark you now, as can be offert, in your conscience now, is it not? GOWER 'Tis certain there's not a boy left alive, and the cowardly rascals that ran from the battle ha' done this slaughter. Besides, they have burned and carried away all that was in the King's tent, wherefore the King, most worthily, hath caused every soldier to cut his prisoner's throat. O, 'tis a gallant king! FLUELLEN Ay, he was porn at Monmouth, Captain Gower. What call you the town's name where Alexander the Pig was born? GOWER Alexander the Great. FLUELLEN Why, I pray you, is not "pig" great? The pig, or the great, or the mighty, or the huge, or the magnanimous, are all one reckonings, save the phrase is a little variations. GOWER I think Alexander the Great was born in Macedon. His father was called Philip of Macedon, as I take it. FLUELLEN I think it is in Macedon where Alexander is porn. I tell you, captain, if you look in the maps of the 'orld, I warrant you sall find, in the comparisons between Macedon and Monmouth, that the situations, look you, is both alike. There is a river in Macedon, and there is also, moreover, a river at Monmouth. It is called Wye at Monmouth, but it is out of my prains what is the name of the other river. But 'tis all one; 'tis alike as my fingers is to my fingers, and there is salmons in both. If you mark Alexander's life well, Harry of Monmouth's life is come after it indifferent well, for there is figures in all things. Alexander, God knows and you know, in his rages and his furies and his wraths and his cholers and his moods and his displeasures and his indignations, and also being a little intoxicates in his prains, did, in his ales and his angers, look you, kill his best friend, Cleitus. GOWER Our king is not like him in that. He never killed any of his friends. FLUELLEN It is not well done, mark you now, to take the tales out of my mouth ere it is made and finished. I speak but in the figures and comparisons of it. As Alexander killed his friend Cleitus, being in his ales and his cups, so also Harry Monmouth, being in his right wits and his good judgments, turned away the fat knight with the great-belly doublet; he was full of jests and gipes and knaveries and mocks--I have forgot his name. GOWER Sir John Falstaff. FLUELLEN That is he. I'll tell you, there is good men porn at Monmouth. GOWER Here comes his Majesty. [Alarum. Enter King Harry, Exeter, Warwick, Gloucester, Heralds and Bourbon with other prisoners. Flourish.] KING HENRY I was not angry since I came to France Until this instant. Take a trumpet, herald. Ride thou unto the horsemen on yond hill. If they will fight with us, bid them come down, Or void the field. They do offend our sight. If they'll do neither, we will come to them And make them skirr away as swift as stones Enforced from the old Assyrian slings. Besides, we'll cut the throats of those we have, And not a man of them that we shall take Shall taste our mercy. Go and tell them so. [Enter Montjoy.] EXETER Here comes the herald of the French, my liege. GLOUCESTER His eyes are humbler than they used to be. KING HENRY How now, what means this, herald? Know'st thou not That I have fined these bones of mine for ransom? Com'st thou again for ransom? MONTJOY No, great king. I come to thee for charitable license, That we may wander o'er this bloody field To book our dead and then to bury them, To sort our nobles from our common men, For many of our princes--woe the while!-- Lie drowned and soaked in mercenary blood. So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs In blood of princes, and the wounded steeds Fret fetlock deep in gore, and with wild rage Yerk out their armed heels at their dead masters, Killing them twice. O, give us leave, great king, To view the field in safety and dispose Of their dead bodies. KING HENRY I tell thee truly, herald, I know not if the day be ours or no, For yet a many of your horsemen peer And gallop o'er the field. MONTJOY The day is yours. KING HENRY Praised be God, and not our strength, for it! What is this castle called that stands hard by? MONTJOY They call it Agincourt. KING HENRY Then call we this the field of Agincourt, Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus. FLUELLEN Your grandfather of famous memory, an 't please your Majesty, and your great-uncle Edward the Plack Prince of Wales, as I have read in the chronicles, fought a most prave pattle here in France. KING HENRY They did, Fluellen. FLUELLEN Your Majesty says very true. If your Majesties is remembered of it, the Welshmen did good service in a garden where leeks did grow, wearing leeks in their Monmouth caps, which, your Majesty know, to this hour is an honorable badge of the service. And I do believe your Majesty takes no scorn to wear the leek upon Saint Tavy's day. KING HENRY I wear it for a memorable honor, For I am Welsh, you know, good countryman. FLUELLEN All the water in Wye cannot wash your Majesty's Welsh plood out of your pody, I can tell you that. God pless it and preserve it as long as it pleases his Grace and his Majesty too. KING HENRY Thanks, good my countryman. FLUELLEN By Jeshu, I am your Majesty's countryman, I care not who know it. I will confess it to all the 'orld. I need not to be ashamed of your Majesty, praised be God, so long as your Majesty is an honest man. KING HENRY God keep me so.--Our heralds, go with him. Bring me just notice of the numbers dead On both our parts. [Montjoy, English Heralds, and Gower exit.] [Enter Williams.] Call yonder fellow hither. EXETER Soldier, you must come to the King. KING HENRY Soldier, why wear'st thou that glove in thy cap? WILLIAMS An 't please your Majesty, 'tis the gage of one that I should fight withal, if he be alive. KING HENRY An Englishman? WILLIAMS An 't please your Majesty, a rascal that swaggered with me last night, who, if alive and ever dare to challenge this glove, I have sworn to take him a box o' th' ear, or if I can see my glove in his cap, which he swore, as he was a soldier, he would wear if alive, I will strike it out soundly. KING HENRY What think you, Captain Fluellen, is it fit this soldier keep his oath? FLUELLEN He is a craven and a villain else, an 't please your Majesty, in my conscience. KING HENRY It may be his enemy is a gentleman of great sort, quite from the answer of his degree. FLUELLEN Though he be as good a gentleman as the devil is, as Lucifer and Beelzebub himself, it is necessary, look your Grace, that he keep his vow and his oath. If he be perjured, see you now, his reputation is as arrant a villain and a Jack Sauce as ever his black shoe trod upon God's ground and His earth, in my conscience, la. KING HENRY Then keep thy vow, sirrah, when thou meet'st the fellow. WILLIAMS So I will, my liege, as I live. KING HENRY Who serv'st thou under? WILLIAMS Under Captain Gower, my liege. FLUELLEN Gower is a good captain, and is good knowledge and literatured in the wars. KING HENRY Call him hither to me, soldier. WILLIAMS I will, my liege. [He exits.] KING HENRY, [giving Fluellen Williams's glove] Here, Fluellen, wear thou this favor for me, and stick it in thy cap. When Alencon and myself were down together, I plucked this glove from his helm. If any man challenge this, he is a friend to Alencon and an enemy to our person. If thou encounter any such, apprehend him, an thou dost me love. FLUELLEN, [putting the glove in his cap] Your Grace does me as great honors as can be desired in the hearts of his subjects. I would fain see the man that has but two legs that shall find himself aggriefed at this glove, that is all; but I would fain see it once, an please God of His grace that I might see. KING HENRY Know'st thou Gower? FLUELLEN He is my dear friend, an please you. KING HENRY Pray thee, go seek him, and bring him to my tent. FLUELLEN I will fetch him. [He exits.] KING HENRY My Lord of Warwick and my brother Gloucester, Follow Fluellen closely at the heels. The glove which I have given him for a favor May haply purchase him a box o' th' ear. It is the soldier's. I by bargain should Wear it myself. Follow, good cousin Warwick. If that the soldier strike him, as I judge By his blunt bearing he will keep his word, Some sudden mischief may arise of it, For I do know Fluellen valiant And, touched with choler, hot as gunpowder, And quickly will return an injury. Follow, and see there be no harm between them.-- Go you with me, uncle of Exeter. [They exit.] Scene 8 ======= [Enter Gower and Williams.] WILLIAMS I warrant it is to knight you, captain. [Enter Fluellen, wearing Williams's glove.] FLUELLEN, [to Gower] God's will and His pleasure, captain, I beseech you now, come apace to the King. There is more good toward you peradventure than is in your knowledge to dream of. WILLIAMS, [to Fluellen, pointing to the glove in his own hat] Sir, know you this glove? FLUELLEN Know the glove? I know the glove is a glove. WILLIAMS I know this, and thus I challenge it. [Strikes him.] FLUELLEN 'Sblood, an arrant traitor as any 's in the universal world, or in France, or in England! GOWER, [to Williams] How now, sir? You villain! WILLIAMS Do you think I'll be forsworn? FLUELLEN Stand away, Captain Gower. I will give treason his payment into plows, I warrant you. WILLIAMS I am no traitor. FLUELLEN That's a lie in thy throat.--I charge you in his Majesty's name, apprehend him. He's a friend of the Duke Alencon's. [Enter Warwick and Gloucester.] WARWICK How now, how now, what's the matter? FLUELLEN My Lord of Warwick, here is, praised be God for it, a most contagious treason come to light, look you, as you shall desire in a summer's day. [Enter King of England and Exeter.] Here is his Majesty. KING HENRY How now, what's the matter? FLUELLEN My liege, here is a villain and a traitor, that, look your Grace, has struck the glove which your Majesty is take out of the helmet of Alencon. WILLIAMS My liege, this was my glove; here is the fellow of it. And he that I gave it to in change promised to wear it in his cap. I promised to strike him if he did. I met this man with my glove in his cap, and I have been as good as my word. FLUELLEN Your Majesty, hear now, saving your Majesty's manhood, what an arrant, rascally, beggarly, lousy knave it is. I hope your Majesty is pear me testimony and witness and will avouchment that this is the glove of Alencon that your Majesty is give me, in your conscience now. KING HENRY, [to Williams] Give me thy glove, soldier. Look, here is the fellow of it. 'Twas I indeed thou promised'st to strike, And thou hast given me most bitter terms. FLUELLEN An please your Majesty, let his neck answer for it, if there is any martial law in the world. KING HENRY, [to Williams] How canst thou make me satisfaction? WILLIAMS All offenses, my lord, come from the heart. Never came any from mine that might offend your Majesty. KING HENRY It was ourself thou didst abuse. WILLIAMS Your Majesty came not like yourself. You appeared to me but as a common man; witness the night, your garments, your lowliness. And what your Highness suffered under that shape, I beseech you take it for your own fault and not mine, for, had you been as I took you for, I made no offense. Therefore, I beseech your Highness pardon me. KING HENRY Here, uncle Exeter, fill this glove with crowns And give it to this fellow.--Keep it, fellow, And wear it for an honor in thy cap Till I do challenge it.--Give him the crowns.-- And, captain, you must needs be friends with him. FLUELLEN By this day and this light, the fellow has mettle enough in his belly.--Hold, there is twelvepence for you, and I pray you to serve God and keep you out of prawls and prabbles and quarrels and dissensions, and I warrant you it is the better for you. WILLIAMS I will none of your money. FLUELLEN It is with a good will. I can tell you it will serve you to mend your shoes. Come, wherefore should you be so pashful? Your shoes is not so good. 'Tis a good silling, I warrant you, or I will change it. [Enter an English Herald.] KING HENRY Now, herald, are the dead numbered? HERALD, [giving the King a paper] Here is the number of the slaughtered French. KING HENRY, [to Exeter] What prisoners of good sort are taken, uncle? EXETER Charles, Duke of Orleans, nephew to the King; John, Duke of Bourbon, and Lord Bouciqualt. Of other lords and barons, knights and squires, Full fifteen hundred, besides common men. KING HENRY This note doth tell me of ten thousand French That in the field lie slain. Of princes in this number And nobles bearing banners, there lie dead One hundred twenty-six. Added to these, Of knights, esquires, and gallant gentlemen, Eight thousand and four hundred, of the which Five hundred were but yesterday dubbed knights. So that in these ten thousand they have lost, There are but sixteen hundred mercenaries. The rest are princes, barons, lords, knights, squires, And gentlemen of blood and quality. The names of those their nobles that lie dead: Charles Delabreth, High Constable of France; Jacques of Chatillon, Admiral of France; The Master of the Crossbows, Lord Rambures; Great Master of France, the brave Sir Guichard Dauphin; John, Duke of Alencon; Anthony, Duke of Brabant, The brother to the Duke of Burgundy; And Edward, Duke of Bar. Of lusty earls: Grandpre and Roussi, Faulconbridge and Foix, Beaumont and Marle, Vaudemont and Lestrale. Here was a royal fellowship of death. Where is the number of our English dead? [Herald gives him another paper.] Edward the Duke of York, the Earl of Suffolk, Sir Richard Ketly, Davy Gam, esquire; None else of name, and of all other men But five and twenty. O God, thy arm was here, And not to us, but to thy arm alone Ascribe we all! When, without stratagem, But in plain shock and even play of battle, Was ever known so great and little loss On one part and on th' other? Take it, God, For it is none but thine. EXETER 'Tis wonderful. KING HENRY Come, go we in procession to the village, And be it death proclaimed through our host To boast of this or take that praise from God Which is His only. FLUELLEN Is it not lawful, an please your Majesty, to tell how many is killed? KING HENRY Yes, captain, but with this acknowledgment: That God fought for us. FLUELLEN Yes, my conscience, He did us great good. KING HENRY Do we all holy rites. Let there be sung Non nobis, and Te Deum, The dead with charity enclosed in clay, And then to Calais, and to England then, Where ne'er from France arrived more happy men. [They exit.] ACT 5 ===== [Enter Chorus.] CHORUS Vouchsafe to those that have not read the story That I may prompt them; and of such as have, I humbly pray them to admit th' excuse Of time, of numbers, and due course of things, Which cannot in their huge and proper life Be here presented. Now we bear the King Toward Calais. Grant him there. There seen, Heave him away upon your winged thoughts Athwart the sea. Behold, the English beach Pales in the flood with men, wives, and boys, Whose shouts and claps outvoice the deep-mouthed sea, Which, like a mighty whiffler 'fore the King Seems to prepare his way. So let him land, And solemnly see him set on to London. So swift a pace hath thought that even now You may imagine him upon Blackheath, Where that his lords desire him to have borne His bruised helmet and his bended sword Before him through the city. He forbids it, Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride, Giving full trophy, signal, and ostent Quite from himself, to God. But now behold, In the quick forge and workinghouse of thought, How London doth pour out her citizens. The Mayor and all his brethren in best sort, Like to the senators of th' antique Rome, With the plebeians swarming at their heels, Go forth and fetch their conqu'ring Caesar in-- As, by a lower but by loving likelihood Were now the general of our gracious empress, As in good time he may, from Ireland coming, Bringing rebellion broached on his sword, How many would the peaceful city quit To welcome him! Much more, and much more cause, Did they this Harry. Now in London place him (As yet the lamentation of the French Invites the King of England's stay at home; The Emperor's coming in behalf of France To order peace between them) and omit All the occurrences, whatever chanced, Till Harry's back return again to France. There must we bring him, and myself have played The interim, by remembering you 'tis past. Then brook abridgment, and your eyes advance After your thoughts, straight back again to France. [He exits.] Scene 1 ======= [Enter Fluellen and Gower.] GOWER Nay, that's right. But why wear you your leek today? Saint Davy's day is past. FLUELLEN There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things. I will tell you ass my friend, Captain Gower. The rascally, scald, beggarly, lousy, pragging knave Pistol, which you and yourself and all the world know to be no petter than a fellow, look you now, of no merits, he is come to me and prings me pread and salt yesterday, look you, and bid me eat my leek. It was in a place where I could not breed no contention with him, but I will be so bold as to wear it in my cap till I see him once again, and then I will tell him a little piece of my desires. [Enter Pistol.] GOWER Why here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock. FLUELLEN 'Tis no matter for his swellings, nor his turkey-cocks.--God pless you, Aunchient Pistol, you scurvy, lousy knave, God pless you. PISTOL Ha, art thou bedlam? Dost thou thirst, base Trojan, to have me fold up Parca's fatal web? Hence. I am qualmish at the smell of leek. FLUELLEN I peseech you heartily, scurvy, lousy knave, at my desires and my requests and my petitions, to eat, look you, this leek. Because, look you, you do not love it, nor your affections and your appetites and your disgestions does not agree with it, I would desire you to eat it. PISTOL Not for Cadwallader and all his goats. FLUELLEN There is one goat for you. [(Strikes him with a cudgel.)] Will you be so good, scald knave, as eat it? PISTOL Base Trojan, thou shalt die. FLUELLEN You say very true, scald knave, when God's will is. I will desire you to live in the meantime and eat your victuals. Come, there is sauce for it. [Strikes him.] You called me yesterday "mountain squire," but I will make you today a squire of low degree. I pray you, fall to. If you can mock a leek, you can eat a leek. GOWER Enough, captain. You have astonished him. FLUELLEN I say I will make him eat some part of my leek, or I will peat his pate four days.--Bite, I pray you. It is good for your green wound and your ploody coxcomb. PISTOL Must I bite? FLUELLEN Yes, certainly, and out of doubt and out of question, too, and ambiguities. PISTOL By this leek, I will most horribly revenge. [Fluellen threatens him.] I eat and eat, I swear-- FLUELLEN Eat, I pray you. Will you have some more sauce to your leek? There is not enough leek to swear by. PISTOL Quiet thy cudgel. Thou dost see I eat. FLUELLEN Much good do you, scald knave, heartily. Nay, pray you throw none away. The skin is good for your broken coxcomb. When you take occasions to see leeks hereafter, I pray you mock at 'em, that is all. PISTOL Good. FLUELLEN Ay, leeks is good. Hold you, there is a groat to heal your pate. PISTOL Me, a groat? FLUELLEN Yes, verily, and in truth you shall take it, or I have another leek in my pocket, which you shall eat. PISTOL I take thy groat in earnest of revenge. FLUELLEN If I owe you anything, I will pay you in cudgels. You shall be a woodmonger and buy nothing of me but cudgels. God be wi' you and keep you and heal your pate. [He exits.] PISTOL All hell shall stir for this. GOWER Go, go. You are a counterfeit cowardly knave. Will you mock at an ancient tradition begun upon an honorable respect and worn as a memorable trophy of predeceased valor, and dare not avouch in your deeds any of your words? I have seen you gleeking and galling at this gentleman twice or thrice. You thought because he could not speak English in the native garb, he could not therefore handle an English cudgel. You find it otherwise, and henceforth let a Welsh correction teach you a good English condition. Fare you well. [He exits.] PISTOL Doth Fortune play the huswife with me now? News have I that my Doll is dead i' th' spital of a malady of France, and there my rendezvous is quite cut off. Old I do wax, and from my weary limbs honor is cudgeled. Well, bawd I'll turn, and something lean to cutpurse of quick hand. To England will I steal, and there I'll steal. And patches will I get unto these cudgeled scars, And swear I got them in the Gallia wars. [He exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter at one door, King Henry, Exeter, Bedford, Warwick, Westmoreland, and other Lords. At another, Queen Isabel of France, the King of France, the Princess Katherine and Alice, the Duke of Burgundy, and other French.] KING HENRY Peace to this meeting wherefor we are met. Unto our brother France and to our sister, Health and fair time of day.--Joy and good wishes To our most fair and princely cousin Katherine.-- And, as a branch and member of this royalty, By whom this great assembly is contrived, We do salute you, Duke of Burgundy.-- And princes French, and peers, health to you all. KING OF FRANCE Right joyous are we to behold your face, Most worthy brother England. Fairly met.-- So are you, princes English, every one. QUEEN OF FRANCE So happy be the issue, brother Ireland, Of this good day and of this gracious meeting, As we are now glad to behold your eyes-- Your eyes which hitherto have borne in them Against the French that met them in their bent The fatal balls of murdering basilisks. The venom of such looks, we fairly hope, Have lost their quality, and that this day Shall change all griefs and quarrels into love. KING HENRY To cry "Amen" to that, thus we appear. QUEEN OF FRANCE You English princes all, I do salute you. BURGUNDY My duty to you both, on equal love, Great kings of France and England. That I have labored With all my wits, my pains, and strong endeavors To bring your most imperial Majesties Unto this bar and royal interview, Your Mightiness on both parts best can witness. Since, then, my office hath so far prevailed That face to face and royal eye to eye You have congreeted, let it not disgrace me If I demand before this royal view What rub or what impediment there is Why that the naked, poor, and mangled peace, Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and joyful births, Should not in this best garden of the world, Our fertile France, put up her lovely visage? Alas, she hath from France too long been chased, And all her husbandry doth lie on heaps, Corrupting in its own fertility. Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart, Unpruned, dies. Her hedges, even-pleached, Like prisoners wildly overgrown with hair, Put forth disordered twigs. Her fallow leas The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory Doth root upon, while that the coulter rusts That should deracinate such savagery. The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover, Wanting the scythe, withal uncorrected, rank, Conceives by idleness, and nothing teems But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burrs, Losing both beauty and utility. And all our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges, Defective in their natures, grow to wildness. Even so our houses and ourselves and children Have lost, or do not learn for want of time, The sciences that should become our country, But grow like savages, as soldiers will That nothing do but meditate on blood, To swearing and stern looks, diffused attire, And everything that seems unnatural. Which to reduce into our former favor You are assembled, and my speech entreats That I may know the let why gentle peace Should not expel these inconveniences And bless us with her former qualities. KING HENRY If, Duke of Burgundy, you would the peace, Whose want gives growth to th' imperfections Which you have cited, you must buy that peace With full accord to all our just demands, Whose tenors and particular effects You have, enscheduled briefly, in your hands. BURGUNDY The King hath heard them, to the which as yet There is no answer made. KING HENRY Well then, the peace which you before so urged Lies in his answer. KING OF FRANCE I have but with a cursitory eye O'erglanced the articles. Pleaseth your Grace To appoint some of your council presently To sit with us once more with better heed To resurvey them, we will suddenly Pass our accept and peremptory answer. KING HENRY Brother, we shall.--Go, uncle Exeter, And brother Clarence, and you, brother Gloucester, Warwick, and Huntington, go with the King, And take with you free power to ratify, Augment, or alter, as your wisdoms best Shall see advantageable for our dignity, Anything in or out of our demands, And we'll consign thereto.--Will you, fair sister, Go with the princes or stay here with us? QUEEN OF FRANCE Our gracious brother, I will go with them. Haply a woman's voice may do some good When articles too nicely urged be stood on. KING HENRY Yet leave our cousin Katherine here with us. She is our capital demand, comprised Within the forerank of our articles. QUEEN OF FRANCE She hath good leave. [All but Katherine, and the King of England, and Alice exit.] KING HENRY Fair Katherine, and most fair, Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms Such as will enter at a lady's ear And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart? KATHERINE Your Majesty shall mock at me. I cannot speak your England. KING HENRY O fair Katherine, if you will love me soundly with your French heart, I will be glad to hear you confess it brokenly with your English tongue. Do you like me, Kate? KATHERINE Pardonnez-moi, I cannot tell wat is "like me." KING HENRY An angel is like you, Kate, and you are like an angel. KATHERINE, [to Alice] Que dit-il? Que je suis semblable a les anges? ALICE Oui, vraiment, sauf votre Grace, ainsi dit-il. KING HENRY I said so, dear Katherine, and I must not blush to affirm it. KATHERINE O bon Dieu, les langues des hommes sont pleines de tromperies. KING HENRY, [to Alice] What says she, fair one? That the tongues of men are full of deceits? ALICE Oui, dat de tongues of de mans is be full of deceits; dat is de Princess. KING HENRY The Princess is the better Englishwoman.-- I' faith, Kate, my wooing is fit for thy understanding. I am glad thou canst speak no better English, for if thou couldst, thou wouldst find me such a plain king that thou wouldst think I had sold my farm to buy my crown. I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say "I love you." Then if you urge me farther than to say "Do you, in faith?" I wear out my suit. Give me your answer, i' faith, do; and so clap hands and a bargain. How say you, lady? KATHERINE Sauf votre honneur, me understand well. KING HENRY Marry, if you would put me to verses or to dance for your sake, Kate, why you undid me. For the one, I have neither words nor measure; and for the other, I have no strength in measure, yet a reasonable measure in strength. If I could win a lady at leapfrog or by vaulting into my saddle with my armor on my back, under the correction of bragging be it spoken, I should quickly leap into a wife. Or if I might buffet for my love, or bound my horse for her favors, I could lay on like a butcher and sit like a jackanapes, never off. But, before God, Kate, I cannot look greenly nor gasp out my eloquence, nor I have no cunning in protestation, only downright oaths, which I never use till urged, nor never break for urging. If thou canst love a fellow of this temper, Kate, whose face is not worth sun-burning, that never looks in his glass for love of anything he sees there, let thine eye be thy cook. I speak to thee plain soldier. If thou canst love me for this, take me. If not, to say to thee that I shall die is true, but for thy love, by the Lord, no. Yet I love thee too. And while thou liv'st, dear Kate, take a fellow of plain and uncoined constancy, for he perforce must do thee right because he hath not the gift to woo in other places. For these fellows of infinite tongue, that can rhyme themselves into ladies' favors, they do always reason themselves out again. What? A speaker is but a prater, a rhyme is but a ballad, a good leg will fall, a straight back will stoop, a black beard will turn white, a curled pate will grow bald, a fair face will wither, a full eye will wax hollow, but a good heart, Kate, is the sun and the moon, or rather the sun and not the moon, for it shines bright and never changes but keeps his course truly. If thou would have such a one, take me. And take me, take a soldier. Take a soldier, take a king. And what say'st thou then to my love? Speak, my fair, and fairly, I pray thee. KATHERINE Is it possible dat I sould love de enemy of France? KING HENRY No, it is not possible you should love the enemy of France, Kate. But, in loving me, you should love the friend of France, for I love France so well that I will not part with a village of it. I will have it all mine. And, Kate, when France is mine and I am yours, then yours is France and you are mine. KATHERINE I cannot tell wat is dat. KING HENRY No, Kate? I will tell thee in French, which I am sure will hang upon my tongue like a new-married wife about her husband's neck, hardly to be shook off. Je quand sur le possession de France, et quand vous avez le possession de moi--let me see, what then? Saint Denis be my speed!--donc votre est France, et vous etes mienne. It is as easy for me, Kate, to conquer the kingdom as to speak so much more French. I shall never move thee in French, unless it be to laugh at me. KATHERINE Sauf votre honneur, le francais que vous parlez, il est meilleur que l'anglais lequel je parle. KING HENRY No, faith, is 't not, Kate, but thy speaking of my tongue, and I thine, most truly-falsely must needs be granted to be much at one. But, Kate, dost thou understand thus much English? Canst thou love me? KATHERINE I cannot tell. KING HENRY Can any of your neighbors tell, Kate? I'll ask them. Come, I know thou lovest me; and at night, when you come into your closet, you'll question this gentlewoman about me, and, I know, Kate, you will, to her, dispraise those parts in me that you love with your heart. But, good Kate, mock me mercifully, the rather, gentle princess, because I love thee cruelly. If ever thou beest mine, Kate, as I have a saving faith within me tells me thou shalt, I get thee with scambling, and thou must therefore needs prove a good soldier-breeder. Shall not thou and I, between Saint Denis and Saint George, compound a boy, half French, half English, that shall go to Constantinople and take the Turk by the beard? Shall we not? What say'st thou, my fair flower de luce? KATHERINE I do not know dat. KING HENRY No, 'tis hereafter to know, but now to promise. Do but now promise, Kate, you will endeavor for your French part of such a boy; and for my English moiety, take the word of a king and a bachelor. How answer you, la plus belle Katherine du monde, mon tres cher et divin deesse? KATHERINE Your Majeste 'ave fausse French enough to deceive de most sage demoiselle dat is en France. KING HENRY Now fie upon my false French. By mine honor, in true English, I love thee, Kate. By which honor I dare not swear thou lovest me, yet my blood begins to flatter me that thou dost, notwithstanding the poor and untempering effect of my visage. Now beshrew my father's ambition! He was thinking of civil wars when he got me; therefore was I created with a stubborn outside, with an aspect of iron, that when I come to woo ladies, I fright them. But, in faith, Kate, the elder I wax, the better I shall appear. My comfort is that old age, that ill layer-up of beauty, can do no more spoil upon my face. Thou hast me, if thou hast me, at the worst, and thou shalt wear me, if thou wear me, better and better. And therefore tell me, most fair Katherine, will you have me? Put off your maiden blushes, avouch the thoughts of your heart with the looks of an empress, take me by the hand, and say "Harry of England, I am thine," which word thou shalt no sooner bless mine ear withal, but I will tell thee aloud "England is thine, Ireland is thine, France is thine, and Henry Plantagenet is thine," who, though I speak it before his face, if he be not fellow with the best king, thou shalt find the best king of good fellows. Come, your answer in broken music, for thy voice is music, and thy English broken. Therefore, queen of all, Katherine, break thy mind to me in broken English. Wilt thou have me? KATHERINE Dat is as it shall please de roi mon pere. KING HENRY Nay, it will please him well, Kate; it shall please him, Kate. KATHERINE Den it sall also content me. KING HENRY Upon that I kiss your hand, and I call you my queen. KATHERINE Laissez, mon seigneur, laissez, laissez! Ma foi, je ne veux point que vous abaissiez votre grandeur, en baisant la main d' une--Notre Seigneur!-- indigne serviteur. Excusez-moi, je vous supplie, mon tres puissant seigneur. KING HENRY Then I will kiss your lips, Kate. KATHERINE Les dames et demoiselles, pour etre baisees devant leurs noces, il n'est pas la coutume de France. KING HENRY Madam my interpreter, what says she? ALICE Dat it is not be de fashion pour les ladies of France--I cannot tell wat is baiser en Anglish. KING HENRY To kiss. ALICE Your Majeste entendre bettre que moi. KING HENRY It is not a fashion for the maids in France to kiss before they are married, would she say? ALICE Oui, vraiment. KING HENRY O Kate, nice customs curtsy to great kings. Dear Kate, you and I cannot be confined within the weak list of a country's fashion. We are the makers of manners, Kate, and the liberty that follows our places stops the mouth of all find-faults, as I will do yours for upholding the nice fashion of your country in denying me a kiss. Therefore, patiently and yielding. [He kisses her.] You have witchcraft in your lips, Kate. There is more eloquence in a sugar touch of them than in the tongues of the French council, and they should sooner persuade Harry of England than a general petition of monarchs. [Enter the French power, the French King and Queen and Burgundy, and the English Lords Westmoreland and Exeter.] Here comes your father. BURGUNDY God save your Majesty. My royal cousin, teach you our princess English? KING HENRY I would have her learn, my fair cousin, how perfectly I love her, and that is good English. BURGUNDY Is she not apt? KING HENRY Our tongue is rough, coz, and my condition is not smooth, so that, having neither the voice nor the heart of flattery about me, I cannot so conjure up the spirit of love in her that he will appear in his true likeness. BURGUNDY Pardon the frankness of my mirth if I answer you for that. If you would conjure in her, you must make a circle; if conjure up Love in her in his true likeness, he must appear naked and blind. Can you blame her, then, being a maid yet rosed over with the virgin crimson of modesty, if she deny the appearance of a naked blind boy in her naked seeing self? It were, my lord, a hard condition for a maid to consign to. KING HENRY Yet they do wink and yield, as love is blind and enforces. BURGUNDY They are then excused, my lord, when they see not what they do. KING HENRY Then, good my lord, teach your cousin to consent winking. BURGUNDY I will wink on her to consent, my lord, if you will teach her to know my meaning, for maids well summered and warm kept are like flies at Bartholomew-tide: blind, though they have their eyes; and then they will endure handling, which before would not abide looking on. KING HENRY This moral ties me over to time and a hot summer. And so I shall catch the fly, your cousin, in the latter end, and she must be blind too. BURGUNDY As love is, my lord, before it loves. KING HENRY It is so. And you may, some of you, thank love for my blindness, who cannot see many a fair French city for one fair French maid that stands in my way. KING OF FRANCE Yes, my lord, you see them perspectively, the cities turned into a maid, for they are all girdled with maiden walls that war hath never entered. KING HENRY Shall Kate be my wife? KING OF FRANCE So please you. KING HENRY I am content, so the maiden cities you talk of may wait on her. So the maid that stood in the way for my wish shall show me the way to my will. KING OF FRANCE We have consented to all terms of reason. KING HENRY Is 't so, my lords of England? WESTMORELAND The King hath granted every article, His daughter first, and, in sequel, all, According to their firm proposed natures. EXETER Only he hath not yet subscribed this: Where your Majesty demands that the King of France, having any occasion to write for matter of grant, shall name your Highness in this form and with this addition, in French: Notre tres cher fils Henri, roi d' Angleterre, heritier de France; and thus in Latin: Praeclarissimus filius noster Henricus, rex Angliae et hoeres Franciae. KING OF FRANCE Nor this I have not, brother, so denied But your request shall make me let it pass. KING HENRY I pray you, then, in love and dear alliance, Let that one article rank with the rest, And thereupon give me your daughter. KING OF FRANCE Take her, fair son, and from her blood raise up Issue to me, that the contending kingdoms Of France and England, whose very shores look pale With envy of each other's happiness, May cease their hatred, and this dear conjunction Plant neighborhood and Christian-like accord In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair France. LORDS Amen. KING HENRY Now welcome, Kate, and bear me witness all That here I kiss her as my sovereign queen. [He kisses her. Flourish.] QUEEN OF FRANCE God, the best maker of all marriages, Combine your hearts in one, your realms in one. As man and wife, being two, are one in love, So be there 'twixt your kingdoms such a spousal That never may ill office or fell jealousy, Which troubles oft the bed of blessed marriage, Thrust in between the paction of these kingdoms To make divorce of their incorporate league, That English may as French, French Englishmen, Receive each other. God speak this Amen! ALL Amen. KING HENRY Prepare we for our marriage; on which day, My Lord of Burgundy, we'll take your oath, And all the peers', for surety of our leagues. Then shall I swear to Kate, and you to me, And may our oaths well kept and prosp'rous be. [Sennet. They exit.] [Enter Chorus as Epilogue.] CHORUS Thus far with rough and all-unable pen Our bending author hath pursued the story, In little room confining mighty men, Mangling by starts the full course of their glory. Small time, but in that small most greatly lived This star of England. Fortune made his sword, By which the world's best garden he achieved And of it left his son imperial lord. Henry the Sixth, in infant bands crowned King Of France and England, did this king succeed, Whose state so many had the managing That they lost France and made his England bleed, Which oft our stage hath shown. And for their sake, In your fair minds let this acceptance take. [He exits.]

Henry VI, Part 1 by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== The English KING HENRY VI Lord TALBOT, afterwards Earl of Shrewsbury JOHN TALBOT, his son Duke of GLOUCESTER, the king's uncle, and Lord Protector Duke of BEDFORD, the king's uncle, and Regent of France Duke of EXETER, the king's great-uncle Cardinal, Bishop of WINCHESTER, the king's great-uncle Duke of SOMERSET Richard PLANTAGENET, later Duke of YORK, and Regent of France Earl of WARWICK Earl of SALISBURY Earl of SUFFOLK, William de la Pole Edmund MORTIMER, Earl of March Sir William GLANSDALE Sir Thomas GARGRAVE Sir John FASTOLF Sir William LUCY WOODVILLE, Lieutenant of the Tower of London VERNON, of the White Rose or York faction BASSET, of the Red Rose or Lancaster faction A LAWYER JAILORS to Mortimer A LEGATE MAYOR of London Heralds, Attendants, three Messengers, Servingmen in blue coats and in tawny coats, two Warders, Officers, Soldiers, Captains, Watch, Trumpeters, Drummer, Servant, two Ambassadors The French CHARLES, Dauphin of France Joan la PUCELLE, also Joan of Arc REIGNIER, Duke of Anjou and Maine, King of Naples MARGARET, his daughter Duke of ALANSON Bastard of ORLEANCE Duke of BURGUNDY GENERAL of the French forces at Bordeaux COUNTESS of Auvergne Her PORTER MASTER GUNNER of Orleance BOY, his son SERGEANT of a Band A SHEPHERD, Pucelle's father Drummer, Soldiers, two Sentinels, Messenger, Soldiers, Governor of Paris, Herald, Scout, Fiends accompanying Pucelle ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Dead March. Enter the funeral of King Henry the Fifth, attended on by the Duke of Bedford, Regent of France; the Duke of Gloucester, Protector; the Duke of Exeter; the Earl of Warwick; the Bishop of Winchester; and the Duke of Somerset, with Heralds and Attendants.] BEDFORD Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night! Comets, importing change of times and states, Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky, And with them scourge the bad revolting stars That have consented unto Henry's death: King Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long. England ne'er lost a king of so much worth. GLOUCESTER England ne'er had a king until his time. Virtue he had, deserving to command; His brandished sword did blind men with his beams; His arms spread wider than a dragon's wings; His sparkling eyes, replete with wrathful fire, More dazzled and drove back his enemies Than midday sun fierce bent against their faces. What should I say? His deeds exceed all speech. He ne'er lift up his hand but conquered. EXETER We mourn in black; why mourn we not in blood? Henry is dead and never shall revive. Upon a wooden coffin we attend, And Death's dishonorable victory We with our stately presence glorify, Like captives bound to a triumphant car. What? Shall we curse the planets of mishap That plotted thus our glory's overthrow? Or shall we think the subtle-witted French Conjurers and sorcerers, that, afraid of him, By magic verses have contrived his end? WINCHESTER He was a king blest of the King of kings; Unto the French the dreadful Judgment Day So dreadful will not be as was his sight. The battles of the Lord of Hosts he fought; The Church's prayers made him so prosperous. GLOUCESTER The Church? Where is it? Had not churchmen prayed, His thread of life had not so soon decayed. None do you like but an effeminate prince Whom like a schoolboy you may overawe. WINCHESTER Gloucester, whate'er we like, thou art Protector And lookest to command the Prince and realm. Thy wife is proud; she holdeth thee in awe More than God or religious churchmen may. GLOUCESTER Name not religion, for thou lov'st the flesh, And ne'er throughout the year to church thou go'st, Except it be to pray against thy foes. BEDFORD Cease, cease these jars, and rest your minds in peace! Let's to the altar.--Heralds, wait on us.-- Instead of gold, we'll offer up our arms, Since arms avail not, now that Henry's dead. Posterity, await for wretched years When at their mothers' moistened eyes babes shall suck, Our isle be made a nourish of salt tears, And none but women left to wail the dead. Henry the Fifth, thy ghost I invocate: Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils, Combat with adverse planets in the heavens. A far more glorious star thy soul will make Than Julius Caesar or bright-- [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER My honorable lords, health to you all. Sad tidings bring I to you out of France, Of loss, of slaughter, and discomfiture: Guyen, Champaigne, Rheims, Roan, Orleance, Paris, Gisors, Poitiers, are all quite lost. BEDFORD What say'st thou, man, before dead Henry's corse? Speak softly, or the loss of those great towns Will make him burst his lead and rise from death. GLOUCESTER Is Paris lost? Is Roan yielded up? If Henry were recalled to life again, These news would cause him once more yield the ghost. EXETER How were they lost? What treachery was used? MESSENGER No treachery, but want of men and money. Amongst the soldiers, this is muttered: That here you maintain several factions And, whilst a field should be dispatched and fought, You are disputing of your generals. One would have ling'ring wars with little cost; Another would fly swift, but wanteth wings; A third thinks, without expense at all, By guileful fair words peace may be obtained. Awake, awake, English nobility! Let not sloth dim your honors new begot. Cropped are the flower-de-luces in your arms; Of England's coat, one half is cut away. [He exits.] EXETER Were our tears wanting to this funeral, These tidings would call forth her flowing tides. BEDFORD Me they concern; regent I am of France. Give me my steeled coat, I'll fight for France. Away with these disgraceful wailing robes. Wounds will I lend the French instead of eyes To weep their intermissive miseries. [Enter to them another Messenger, with papers.] SECOND MESSENGER Lords, view these letters, full of bad mischance. France is revolted from the English quite, Except some petty towns of no import. The Dauphin Charles is crowned king in Rheims; The Bastard of Orleance with him is joined; Reignier, Duke of Anjou, doth take his part; The Duke of Alanson flieth to his side. [He exits.] EXETER The Dauphin crowned king? All fly to him? O, whither shall we fly from this reproach? GLOUCESTER We will not fly but to our enemies' throats.-- Bedford, if thou be slack, I'll fight it out. BEDFORD Gloucester, why doubt'st thou of my forwardness? An army have I mustered in my thoughts, Wherewith already France is overrun. [Enter another Messenger.] THIRD MESSENGER My gracious lords, to add to your laments, Wherewith you now bedew King Henry's hearse, I must inform you of a dismal fight Betwixt the stout Lord Talbot and the French. WINCHESTER What? Wherein Talbot overcame, is 't so? THIRD MESSENGER O no, wherein Lord Talbot was o'erthrown. The circumstance I'll tell you more at large. The tenth of August last, this dreadful lord, Retiring from the siege of Orleance, Having full scarce six thousand in his troop, By three and twenty thousand of the French Was round encompassed and set upon. No leisure had he to enrank his men. He wanted pikes to set before his archers, Instead whereof, sharp stakes plucked out of hedges They pitched in the ground confusedly To keep the horsemen off from breaking in. More than three hours the fight continued, Where valiant Talbot, above human thought, Enacted wonders with his sword and lance. Hundreds he sent to hell, and none durst stand him; Here, there, and everywhere, enraged, he slew. The French exclaimed the devil was in arms; All the whole army stood agazed on him. His soldiers, spying his undaunted spirit, "A Talbot! A Talbot!" cried out amain And rushed into the bowels of the battle. Here had the conquest fully been sealed up If Sir John Fastolf had not played the coward. He, being in the vaward, placed behind With purpose to relieve and follow them, Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke. Hence grew the general wrack and massacre. Enclosed were they with their enemies. A base Walloon, to win the Dauphin's grace, Thrust Talbot with a spear into the back, Whom all France, with their chief assembled strength, Durst not presume to look once in the face. BEDFORD Is Talbot slain then? I will slay myself For living idly here, in pomp and ease, Whilst such a worthy leader, wanting aid, Unto his dastard foemen is betrayed. THIRD MESSENGER O, no, he lives, but is took prisoner, And Lord Scales with him, and Lord Hungerford; Most of the rest slaughtered or took likewise. BEDFORD His ransom there is none but I shall pay. I'll hale the Dauphin headlong from his throne; His crown shall be the ransom of my friend. Four of their lords I'll change for one of ours. Farewell, my masters; to my task will I. Bonfires in France forthwith I am to make, To keep our great Saint George's feast withal. Ten thousand soldiers with me I will take, Whose bloody deeds shall make all Europe quake. THIRD MESSENGER So you had need; 'fore Orleance besieged, The English army is grown weak and faint; The Earl of Salisbury craveth supply And hardly keeps his men from mutiny, Since they so few watch such a multitude. [He exits.] EXETER Remember, lords, your oaths to Henry sworn: Either to quell the Dauphin utterly Or bring him in obedience to your yoke. BEDFORD I do remember it, and here take my leave To go about my preparation. [Bedford exits.] GLOUCESTER I'll to the Tower with all the haste I can To view th' artillery and munition, And then I will proclaim young Henry king. [Gloucester exits.] EXETER To Eltham will I, where the young king is, Being ordained his special governor; And for his safety there I'll best devise. [He exits.] WINCHESTER, [aside] Each hath his place and function to attend. I am left out; for me nothing remains. But long I will not be Jack-out-of-office. The King from Eltham I intend to steal, And sit at chiefest stern of public weal. [He exits at one door; at another door, Warwick, Somerset, Attendants and Heralds exit with the coffin.] Scene 2 ======= [Sound a flourish. Enter Charles the Dauphin, Alanson, and Reignier, marching with Drum and Soldiers.] CHARLES Mars his true moving, even as in the heavens So in the Earth, to this day is not known. Late did he shine upon the English side; Now we are victors; upon us he smiles. What towns of any moment but we have? At pleasure here we lie, near Orleance. Otherwhiles, the famished English, like pale ghosts, Faintly besiege us one hour in a month. ALANSON They want their porridge and their fat bull beeves. Either they must be dieted like mules And have their provender tied to their mouths, Or piteous they will look, like drowned mice. REIGNIER Let's raise the siege. Why live we idly here? Talbot is taken, whom we wont to fear. Remaineth none but mad-brained Salisbury, And he may well in fretting spend his gall; Nor men nor money hath he to make war. CHARLES Sound, sound alarum! We will rush on them. Now for the honor of the forlorn French! Him I forgive my death that killeth me When he sees me go back one foot, or fly. [They exit. Here alarum. They are beaten back by the English, with great loss.] [Enter Charles, Alanson, and Reignier.] CHARLES Whoever saw the like? What men have I! Dogs, cowards, dastards! I would ne'er have fled But that they left me 'midst my enemies. REIGNIER Salisbury is a desperate homicide. He fighteth as one weary of his life. The other lords, like lions wanting food, Do rush upon us as their hungry prey. ALANSON Froissart, a countryman of ours, records England all Olivers and Rolands bred During the time Edward the Third did reign. More truly now may this be verified, For none but Samsons and Goliases It sendeth forth to skirmish. One to ten! Lean rawboned rascals! Who would e'er suppose They had such courage and audacity? CHARLES Let's leave this town, for they are hare-brained slaves, And hunger will enforce them to be more eager. Of old I know them; rather with their teeth The walls they'll tear down than forsake the siege. REIGNIER I think by some odd gimmers or device Their arms are set, like clocks, still to strike on; Else ne'er could they hold out so as they do. By my consent, we'll even let them alone. ALANSON Be it so. [Enter the Bastard of Orleance.] BASTARD Where's the Prince Dauphin? I have news for him. CHARLES Bastard of Orleance, thrice welcome to us. BASTARD Methinks your looks are sad, your cheer appalled. Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence? Be not dismayed, for succor is at hand. A holy maid hither with me I bring, Which, by a vision sent to her from heaven, Ordained is to raise this tedious siege And drive the English forth the bounds of France. The spirit of deep prophecy she hath, Exceeding the nine Sibyls of old Rome. What's past and what's to come she can descry. Speak, shall I call her in? Believe my words, For they are certain and unfallible. CHARLES Go call her in. [Bastard exits.] But first, to try her skill, Reignier, stand thou as Dauphin in my place; Question her proudly; let thy looks be stern. By this means shall we sound what skill she hath. [Enter Bastard, with Joan la Pucelle.] REIGNIER, [as Charles] Fair maid, is 't thou wilt do these wondrous feats? PUCELLE Reignier, is 't thou that thinkest to beguile me? Where is the Dauphin?--Come, come from behind. I know thee well, though never seen before. Be not amazed; there's nothing hid from me. In private will I talk with thee apart.-- Stand back, you lords, and give us leave a while. REIGNIER She takes upon her bravely at first dash. [Alanson, Reignier, and Bastard exit.] PUCELLE Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd's daughter, My wit untrained in any kind of art. Heaven and Our Lady gracious hath it pleased To shine on my contemptible estate. Lo, whilst I waited on my tender lambs, And to sun's parching heat displayed my cheeks, God's Mother deigned to appear to me, And in a vision full of majesty Willed me to leave my base vocation And free my country from calamity. Her aid she promised and assured success. In complete glory she revealed herself; And whereas I was black and swart before, With those clear rays which she infused on me That beauty am I blest with, which you may see. Ask me what question thou canst possible, And I will answer unpremeditated. My courage try by combat, if thou dar'st, And thou shalt find that I exceed my sex. Resolve on this: thou shalt be fortunate If thou receive me for thy warlike mate. CHARLES Thou hast astonished me with thy high terms. Only this proof I'll of thy valor make: In single combat thou shalt buckle with me, And if thou vanquishest, thy words are true; Otherwise I renounce all confidence. PUCELLE I am prepared. Here is my keen-edged sword, Decked with fine flower-de-luces on each side-- [Aside.] The which at Touraine, in Saint Katherine's churchyard, Out of a great deal of old iron I chose forth. CHARLES Then come, a' God's name! I fear no woman. PUCELLE And while I live, I'll ne'er fly from a man. [Here they fight, and Joan la Pucelle overcomes.] CHARLES Stay, stay thy hands! Thou art an Amazon, And fightest with the sword of Deborah. PUCELLE Christ's mother helps me; else I were too weak. CHARLES Whoe'er helps thee, 'tis thou that must help me. Impatiently I burn with thy desire. My heart and hands thou hast at once subdued. Excellent Pucelle, if thy name be so, Let me thy servant and not sovereign be. 'Tis the French Dauphin sueth to thee thus. PUCELLE I must not yield to any rights of love, For my profession's sacred from above. When I have chased all thy foes from hence, Then will I think upon a recompense. CHARLES Meantime look gracious on thy prostrate thrall. [Enter Reignier and Alanson.] REIGNIER, [aside to Alanson] My lord, methinks, is very long in talk. ALANSON, [aside to Reignier] Doubtless he shrives this woman to her smock, Else ne'er could he so long protract his speech. REIGNIER, [aside to Alanson] Shall we disturb him, since he keeps no mean? ALANSON, [aside to Reignier] He may mean more than we poor men do know. These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues. REIGNIER, [to Charles] My lord, where are you? What devise you on? Shall we give o'er Orleance, or no? PUCELLE Why, no, I say. Distrustful recreants, Fight till the last gasp. I'll be your guard. CHARLES What she says I'll confirm: we'll fight it out. PUCELLE Assigned am I to be the English scourge. This night the siege assuredly I'll raise. Expect Saint Martin's summer, halcyons' days, Since I have entered into these wars. Glory is like a circle in the water, Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself Till by broad spreading it disperse to naught. With Henry's death, the English circle ends; Dispersed are the glories it included. Now am I like that proud insulting ship Which Caesar and his fortune bare at once. CHARLES Was Mahomet inspired with a dove? Thou with an eagle art inspired then. Helen, the mother of great Constantine, Nor yet Saint Philip's daughters were like thee. Bright star of Venus, fall'n down on the Earth, How may I reverently worship thee enough? ALANSON Leave off delays, and let us raise the siege. REIGNIER Woman, do what thou canst to save our honors. Drive them from Orleance and be immortalized. CHARLES Presently we'll try. Come, let's away about it. No prophet will I trust if she prove false. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Gloucester with his Servingmen in blue coats.] GLOUCESTER I am come to survey the Tower this day. Since Henry's death I fear there is conveyance. Where be these warders that they wait not here?-- Open the gates! 'Tis Gloucester that calls. [Servingmen knock at the gate.] FIRST WARDER, [within] Who's there that knocks so imperiously? FIRST SERVINGMAN It is the noble Duke of Gloucester. SECOND WARDER, [within] Whoe'er he be, you may not be let in. FIRST SERVINGMAN Villains, answer you so the Lord Protector? FIRST WARDER, [within] The Lord protect him, so we answer him. We do no otherwise than we are willed. GLOUCESTER Who willed you? Or whose will stands but mine? There's none Protector of the realm but I.-- Break up the gates! I'll be your warrantize. Shall I be flouted thus by dunghill grooms? [Gloucester's men rush at the Tower gates, and Woodville, the lieutenant, speaks within.] WOODVILLE What noise is this? What traitors have we here? GLOUCESTER Lieutenant, is it you whose voice I hear? Open the gates. Here's Gloucester that would enter. WOODVILLE Have patience, noble duke, I may not open. The Cardinal of Winchester forbids. From him I have express commandment That thou nor none of thine shall be let in. GLOUCESTER Fainthearted Woodville, prizest him 'fore me? Arrogant Winchester, that haughty prelate Whom Henry, our late sovereign, ne'er could brook? Thou art no friend to God or to the King. Open the gates, or I'll shut thee out shortly. SERVINGMEN Open the gates unto the Lord Protector, Or we'll burst them open if that you come not quickly. [Enter, to the Protector at the Tower gates, Winchester in cardinal's robes and his men in tawny coats.] WINCHESTER How now, ambitious Humphrey, what means this? GLOUCESTER Peeled priest, dost thou command me to be shut out? WINCHESTER I do, thou most usurping proditor-- And not Protector--of the King or realm. GLOUCESTER Stand back, thou manifest conspirator, Thou that contrived'st to murder our dead lord, Thou that giv'st whores indulgences to sin! I'll canvass thee in thy broad cardinal's hat If thou proceed in this thy insolence. WINCHESTER Nay, stand thou back. I will not budge a foot. This be Damascus; be thou cursed Cain To slay thy brother Abel, if thou wilt. GLOUCESTER I will not slay thee, but I'll drive thee back. Thy scarlet robes, as a child's bearing-cloth, I'll use to carry thee out of this place. WINCHESTER Do what thou dar'st, I beard thee to thy face. GLOUCESTER What, am I dared and bearded to my face?-- Draw, men, for all this privileged place. Blue coats to tawny coats! [All draw their swords.] Priest, beware your beard. I mean to tug it and to cuff you soundly. Under my feet I'll stamp thy cardinal's hat; In spite of pope or dignities of Church, Here by the cheeks I'll drag thee up and down. WINCHESTER Gloucester, thou wilt answer this before the Pope. GLOUCESTER Winchester goose, I cry "a rope, a rope!"-- Now beat them hence; why do you let them stay?-- Thee I'll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep's array.-- Out, tawny coats, out, scarlet hypocrite! [Here Gloucester's men beat out the Cardinal's men, and enter in the hurly-burly the Mayor of London and his Officers.] MAYOR Fie, lords, that you, being supreme magistrates, Thus contumeliously should break the peace! GLOUCESTER Peace, Mayor? Thou know'st little of my wrongs. Here's Beaufort, that regards nor God nor king, Hath here distrained the Tower to his use. WINCHESTER Here's Gloucester, a foe to citizens, One that still motions war and never peace, O'ercharging your free purses with large fines; That seeks to overthrow religion Because he is Protector of the realm, And would have armor here out of the Tower To crown himself king and suppress the Prince. GLOUCESTER I will not answer thee with words, but blows. [Here they skirmish again.] MAYOR Naught rests for me in this tumultuous strife But to make open proclamation. Come, officer, as loud as e'er thou canst, cry. [He hands an Officer a paper.] OFFICER [reads] All manner of men, assembled here in arms this day against God's peace and the King's, we charge and command you, in his Highness' name, to repair to your several dwelling places, and not to wear, handle, or use any sword, weapon, or dagger henceforward, upon pain of death. GLOUCESTER Cardinal, I'll be no breaker of the law, But we shall meet and break our minds at large. WINCHESTER Gloucester, we'll meet to thy cost, be sure. Thy heartblood I will have for this day's work. MAYOR I'll call for clubs if you will not away. [(Aside.)] This cardinal's more haughty than the devil! GLOUCESTER Mayor, farewell. Thou dost but what thou mayst. WINCHESTER Abominable Gloucester, guard thy head, For I intend to have it ere long. [Gloucester and Winchester exit at separate doors, with their Servingmen.] MAYOR, [to Officers] See the coast cleared, and then we will depart. [(Aside.)] Good God, these nobles should such stomachs bear! I myself fight not once in forty year. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter the Master Gunner of Orleance and his Boy.] MASTER GUNNER Sirrah, thou know'st how Orleance is besieged And how the English have the suburbs won. BOY Father, I know, and oft have shot at them; Howe'er, unfortunate, I missed my aim. MASTER GUNNER But now thou shalt not. Be thou ruled by me. Chief master-gunner am I of this town; Something I must do to procure me grace. The Prince's espials have informed me How the English, in the suburbs close entrenched, Went through a secret grate of iron bars In yonder tower, to overpeer the city, And thence discover how with most advantage They may vex us with shot or with assault. To intercept this inconvenience, A piece of ordnance 'gainst it I have placed, And even these three days have I watched If I could see them. Now do thou watch, For I can stay no longer. If thou spy'st any, run and bring me word; And thou shalt find me at the Governor's. [He exits.] BOY Father, I warrant you, take you no care; I'll never trouble you if I may spy them. [He exits.] [Enter Salisbury and Talbot on the turrets, with Sir William Glansdale, Sir Thomas Gargrave, Attendants and Others.] SALISBURY Talbot, my life, my joy, again returned! How wert thou handled, being prisoner? Or by what means gott'st thou to be released? Discourse, I prithee, on this turret's top. TALBOT The Duke of Bedford had a prisoner Called the brave Lord Ponton de Santrailles; For him was I exchanged and ransomed. But with a baser man-of-arms by far Once in contempt they would have bartered me, Which I disdaining, scorned, and craved death Rather than I would be so vile-esteemed. In fine, redeemed I was as I desired. But O, the treacherous Fastolf wounds my heart, Whom with my bare fists I would execute If I now had him brought into my power. SALISBURY Yet tell'st thou not how thou wert entertained. TALBOT With scoffs and scorns and contumelious taunts. In open marketplace produced they me To be a public spectacle to all. "Here," said they, "is the terror of the French, The scarecrow that affrights our children so." Then broke I from the officers that led me, And with my nails digged stones out of the ground To hurl at the beholders of my shame. My grisly countenance made others fly; None durst come near for fear of sudden death. In iron walls they deemed me not secure: So great fear of my name 'mongst them were spread That they supposed I could rend bars of steel And spurn in pieces posts of adamant. Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had That walked about me every minute-while; And if I did but stir out of my bed, Ready they were to shoot me to the heart. [Enter the Boy with a linstock. He crosses the main stage and exits.] SALISBURY I grieve to hear what torments you endured, But we will be revenged sufficiently. Now it is supper time in Orleance. Here, through this grate, I count each one And view the Frenchmen how they fortify. Let us look in; the sight will much delight thee. Sir Thomas Gargrave and Sir William Glansdale, Let me have your express opinions Where is best place to make our batt'ry next? GARGRAVE I think at the north gate, for there stands lords. GLANSDALE And I, here, at the bulwark of the bridge. TALBOT For aught I see, this city must be famished Or with light skirmishes enfeebled. [Here they shoot, and Salisbury and Gargrave fall down.] SALISBURY O Lord, have mercy on us, wretched sinners! GARGRAVE O Lord, have mercy on me, woeful man! TALBOT What chance is this that suddenly hath crossed us?-- Speak, Salisbury--at least if thou canst, speak! How far'st thou, mirror of all martial men? One of thy eyes and thy cheek's side struck off!-- Accursed tower, accursed fatal hand That hath contrived this woeful tragedy! In thirteen battles Salisbury o'ercame; Henry the Fifth he first trained to the wars. Whilst any trump did sound or drum struck up, His sword did ne'er leave striking in the field.-- Yet liv'st thou, Salisbury? Though thy speech doth fail, One eye thou hast to look to heaven for grace. The sun with one eye vieweth all the world. Heaven, be thou gracious to none alive If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands!-- Sir Thomas Gargrave, hast thou any life? Speak unto Talbot. Nay, look up to him.-- Bear hence his body; I will help to bury it. [Attendants exit with body of Gargrave.] Salisbury, cheer thy spirit with this comfort, Thou shalt not die whiles-- He beckons with his hand and smiles on me As who should say "When I am dead and gone, Remember to avenge me on the French." Plantagenet, I will; and, like thee, Nero, Play on the lute, beholding the towns burn. Wretched shall France be only in my name. [Here an alarum, and it thunders and lightens.] What stir is this? What tumult's in the heavens? Whence cometh this alarum and the noise? [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER My lord, my lord, the French have gathered head. The Dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle joined, A holy prophetess new risen up, Is come with a great power to raise the siege. [Here Salisbury lifteth himself up and groans.] TALBOT Hear, hear, how dying Salisbury doth groan; It irks his heart he cannot be revenged. Frenchmen, I'll be a Salisbury to you. Pucelle or puzel, dauphin or dogfish, Your hearts I'll stamp out with my horse's heels And make a quagmire of your mingled brains. Convey we Salisbury into his tent, And then try what these dastard Frenchmen dare. [Alarum. They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Here an alarum again, and Talbot pursueth the Dauphin and driveth him; then enter Joan la Pucelle, driving Englishmen before her. They cross the stage and exit. Then enter Talbot.] TALBOT Where is my strength, my valor, and my force? Our English troops retire; I cannot stay them. A woman clad in armor chaseth them. [Enter Pucelle, with Soldiers.] Here, here she comes!--I'll have a bout with thee. Devil or devil's dam, I'll conjure thee. Blood will I draw on thee--thou art a witch-- And straightway give thy soul to him thou serv'st. PUCELLE Come, come; 'tis only I that must disgrace thee. [Here they fight.] TALBOT Heavens, can you suffer hell so to prevail? My breast I'll burst with straining of my courage, And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder, But I will chastise this high-minded strumpet. [They fight again.] PUCELLE Talbot, farewell. Thy hour is not yet come. I must go victual Orleance forthwith. [A short alarum. Then she prepares to enter the town with Soldiers.] O'ertake me if thou canst. I scorn thy strength. Go, go, cheer up thy hunger-starved men. Help Salisbury to make his testament. This day is ours, as many more shall be. [She exits with Soldiers.] TALBOT My thoughts are whirled like a potter's wheel. I know not where I am nor what I do. A witch by fear--not force, like Hannibal-- Drives back our troops, and conquers as she lists. So bees with smoke and doves with noisome stench Are from their hives and houses driven away. They called us, for our fierceness, English dogs; Now like to whelps we crying run away. [A short alarum. Enter English soldiers, chased by French soldiers.] Hark, countrymen, either renew the fight, Or tear the lions out of England's coat. Renounce your soil; give sheep in lions' stead. Sheep run not half so treacherous from the wolf, Or horse or oxen from the leopard, As you fly from your oft-subdued slaves. [Alarum. Here another skirmish.] It will not be! Retire into your trenches. You all consented unto Salisbury's death, For none would strike a stroke in his revenge. Pucelle is entered into Orleance In spite of us or aught that we could do. [Soldiers exit.] O, would I were to die with Salisbury! The shame hereof will make me hide my head. [Talbot exits. Alarum. Retreat.] Scene 6 ======= [Flourish. Enter on the walls Pucelle, Charles the Dauphin, Reignier, Alanson, and Soldiers.] PUCELLE Advance our waving colors on the walls. Rescued is Orleance from the English. Thus Joan la Pucelle hath performed her word. [She exits.] CHARLES Divinest creature, Astraea's daughter, How shall I honor thee for this success? Thy promises are like Adonis' garden That one day bloomed and fruitful were the next. France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess. Recovered is the town of Orleance. More blessed hap did ne'er befall our state. REIGNIER Why ring not bells aloud throughout the town? Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires And feast and banquet in the open streets To celebrate the joy that God hath given us. ALANSON All France will be replete with mirth and joy When they shall hear how we have played the men. CHARLES 'Tis Joan, not we, by whom the day is won; For which I will divide my crown with her, And all the priests and friars in my realm Shall in procession sing her endless praise. A statelier pyramis to her I'll rear Than Rhodophe's of Memphis ever was. In memory of her, when she is dead, Her ashes, in an urn more precious Than the rich-jeweled coffer of Darius, Transported shall be at high festivals Before the kings and queens of France. No longer on Saint Dennis will we cry, But Joan la Pucelle shall be France's saint. Come in, and let us banquet royally After this golden day of victory. [Flourish. They exit.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter on the walls a French Sergeant of a Band, with two Sentinels.] SERGEANT Sirs, take your places and be vigilant. If any noise or soldier you perceive Near to the walls, by some apparent sign Let us have knowledge at the court of guard. SENTINEL Sergeant, you shall. [Sergeant exits.] Thus are poor servitors, When others sleep upon their quiet beds, Constrained to watch in darkness, rain, and cold. [Enter Talbot, Bedford, and Burgundy, below, with scaling ladders.] TALBOT Lord Regent, and redoubted Burgundy, By whose approach the regions of Artois, Walloon, and Picardy are friends to us, This happy night the Frenchmen are secure, Having all day caroused and banqueted. Embrace we then this opportunity, As fitting best to quittance their deceit Contrived by art and baleful sorcery. BEDFORD Coward of France, how much he wrongs his fame, Despairing of his own arm's fortitude, To join with witches and the help of hell! BURGUNDY Traitors have never other company. But what's that Pucelle whom they term so pure? TALBOT A maid, they say. BEDFORD A maid? And be so martial? BURGUNDY Pray God she prove not masculine ere long, If underneath the standard of the French She carry armor as she hath begun. TALBOT Well, let them practice and converse with spirits. God is our fortress, in whose conquering name Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks. BEDFORD Ascend, brave Talbot. We will follow thee. TALBOT Not all together. Better far, I guess, That we do make our entrance several ways, That if it chance the one of us do fail, The other yet may rise against their force. BEDFORD Agreed. I'll to yond corner. BURGUNDY And I to this. TALBOT And here will Talbot mount, or make his grave. Now, Salisbury, for thee and for the right Of English Henry, shall this night appear How much in duty I am bound to both. [Scaling the walls, they cry "Saint George! A Talbot!"] SENTINEL Arm, arm! The enemy doth make assault. [The English, pursuing the Sentinels, exit aloft.] [The French leap o'er the walls in their shirts.] [Enter several ways, Bastard, Alanson, Reignier, half ready, and half unready.] ALANSON How now, my lords? What, all unready so? BASTARD Unready? Ay, and glad we scaped so well. REIGNIER 'Twas time, I trow, to wake and leave our beds, Hearing alarums at our chamber doors. ALANSON Of all exploits since first I followed arms Ne'er heard I of a warlike enterprise More venturous or desperate than this. BASTARD I think this Talbot be a fiend of hell. REIGNIER If not of hell, the heavens sure favor him. ALANSON Here cometh Charles. I marvel how he sped. [Enter Charles and Joan la Pucelle.] BASTARD Tut, holy Joan was his defensive guard. CHARLES Is this thy cunning, thou deceitful dame? Didst thou at first, to flatter us withal, Make us partakers of a little gain That now our loss might be ten times so much? PUCELLE Wherefore is Charles impatient with his friend? At all times will you have my power alike? Sleeping or waking, must I still prevail, Or will you blame and lay the fault on me?-- Improvident soldiers, had your watch been good, This sudden mischief never could have fall'n. CHARLES Duke of Alanson, this was your default, That, being captain of the watch tonight, Did look no better to that weighty charge. ALANSON Had all your quarters been as safely kept As that whereof I had the government, We had not been thus shamefully surprised. BASTARD Mine was secure. REIGNIER And so was mine, my lord. CHARLES And for myself, most part of all this night Within her quarter and mine own precinct I was employed in passing to and fro About relieving of the sentinels. Then how or which way should they first break in? PUCELLE Question, my lords, no further of the case, How or which way; 'tis sure they found some place But weakly guarded, where the breach was made. And now there rests no other shift but this: To gather our soldiers, scattered and dispersed, And lay new platforms to endamage them. [Alarum. Enter an English Soldier, crying, "A Talbot, A Talbot!" The French fly, leaving their clothes behind.] SOLDIER I'll be so bold to take what they have left. The cry of "Talbot" serves me for a sword, For I have loaden me with many spoils, Using no other weapon but his name. [He exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Talbot, Bedford, Burgundy, a Captain and Others.] BEDFORD The day begins to break and night is fled, Whose pitchy mantle over-veiled the Earth. Here sound retreat and cease our hot pursuit. [Retreat sounded.] TALBOT Bring forth the body of old Salisbury, And here advance it in the marketplace, The middle center of this cursed town. [Soldiers enter bearing the body of Salisbury, Drums beating a dead march.] Now have I paid my vow unto his soul: For every drop of blood was drawn from him There hath at least five Frenchmen died tonight. And, that hereafter ages may behold What ruin happened in revenge of him, Within their chiefest temple I'll erect A tomb wherein his corpse shall be interred, Upon the which, that everyone may read, Shall be engraved the sack of Orleance, The treacherous manner of his mournful death, And what a terror he had been to France. [Funeral exits.] But, lords, in all our bloody massacre, I muse we met not with the Dauphin's grace, His new-come champion, virtuous Joan of Arc, Nor any of his false confederates. BEDFORD 'Tis thought, Lord Talbot, when the fight began, Roused on the sudden from their drowsy beds, They did amongst the troops of armed men Leap o'er the walls for refuge in the field. BURGUNDY Myself, as far as I could well discern For smoke and dusky vapors of the night, Am sure I scared the Dauphin and his trull, When arm-in-arm they both came swiftly running, Like to a pair of loving turtledoves That could not live asunder day or night. After that things are set in order here, We'll follow them with all the power we have. [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER All hail, my lords. Which of this princely train Call you the warlike Talbot, for his acts So much applauded through the realm of France? TALBOT Here is the Talbot. Who would speak with him? MESSENGER The virtuous lady, Countess of Auvergne, With modesty admiring thy renown, By me entreats, great lord, thou wouldst vouchsafe To visit her poor castle where she lies, That she may boast she hath beheld the man Whose glory fills the world with loud report. BURGUNDY Is it even so? Nay, then, I see our wars Will turn unto a peaceful comic sport, When ladies crave to be encountered with. You may not, my lord, despise her gentle suit. TALBOT Ne'er trust me, then; for when a world of men Could not prevail with all their oratory, Yet hath a woman's kindness overruled.-- And therefore tell her I return great thanks, And in submission will attend on her.-- Will not your Honors bear me company? BEDFORD No, truly, 'tis more than manners will; And I have heard it said unbidden guests Are often welcomest when they are gone. TALBOT Well then, alone, since there's no remedy, I mean to prove this lady's courtesy.-- Come hither, captain. [Whispers.] You perceive my mind? CAPTAIN I do, my lord, and mean accordingly. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Countess of Auvergne, with Porter.] COUNTESS Porter, remember what I gave in charge, And when you have done so, bring the keys to me. PORTER Madam, I will. [He exits.] COUNTESS The plot is laid. If all things fall out right, I shall as famous be by this exploit As Scythian Tamyris by Cyrus' death. Great is the rumor of this dreadful knight, And his achievements of no less account. Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine ears To give their censure of these rare reports. [Enter Messenger and Talbot.] MESSENGER Madam, according as your Ladyship desired, By message craved, so is Lord Talbot come. COUNTESS And he is welcome. What, is this the man? MESSENGER Madam, it is. COUNTESS Is this the scourge of France? Is this the Talbot, so much feared abroad That with his name the mothers still their babes? I see report is fabulous and false. I thought I should have seen some Hercules, A second Hector, for his grim aspect And large proportion of his strong-knit limbs. Alas, this is a child, a silly dwarf! It cannot be this weak and writhled shrimp Should strike such terror to his enemies. TALBOT Madam, I have been bold to trouble you. But since your Ladyship is not at leisure, I'll sort some other time to visit you. [He begins to exit.] COUNTESS, [to Messenger] What means he now? Go ask him whither he goes. MESSENGER Stay, my Lord Talbot, for my lady craves To know the cause of your abrupt departure. TALBOT Marry, for that she's in a wrong belief, I go to certify her Talbot's here. [Enter Porter with keys.] COUNTESS, [to Talbot] If thou be he, then art thou prisoner. TALBOT Prisoner? To whom? COUNTESS To me, bloodthirsty lord. And for that cause I trained thee to my house. Long time thy shadow hath been thrall to me, For in my gallery thy picture hangs. But now the substance shall endure the like, And I will chain these legs and arms of thine, That hast by tyranny these many years Wasted our country, slain our citizens, And sent our sons and husbands captivate. TALBOT Ha, ha, ha! COUNTESS Laughest thou, wretch? Thy mirth shall turn to moan. TALBOT I laugh to see your Ladyship so fond To think that you have aught but Talbot's shadow Whereon to practice your severity. COUNTESS Why, art not thou the man? TALBOT I am, indeed. COUNTESS Then have I substance too. TALBOT No, no, I am but shadow of myself. You are deceived; my substance is not here, For what you see is but the smallest part And least proportion of humanity. I tell you, madam, were the whole frame here, It is of such a spacious lofty pitch Your roof were not sufficient to contain 't. COUNTESS This is a riddling merchant for the nonce: He will be here and yet he is not here. How can these contrarieties agree? TALBOT That will I show you presently. [Winds his horn. Drums strike up; a peal of ordnance.] [Enter Soldiers.] How say you, madam? Are you now persuaded That Talbot is but shadow of himself? These are his substance, sinews, arms, and strength, With which he yoketh your rebellious necks, Razeth your cities, and subverts your towns, And in a moment makes them desolate. COUNTESS Victorious Talbot, pardon my abuse. I find thou art no less than fame hath bruited, And more than may be gathered by thy shape. Let my presumption not provoke thy wrath, For I am sorry that with reverence I did not entertain thee as thou art. TALBOT Be not dismayed, fair lady, nor misconster The mind of Talbot as you did mistake The outward composition of his body. What you have done hath not offended me, Nor other satisfaction do I crave But only, with your patience, that we may Taste of your wine and see what cates you have, For soldiers' stomachs always serve them well. COUNTESS With all my heart, and think me honored To feast so great a warrior in my house. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Richard Plantagenet, Warwick, Somerset, William de la Pole the Earl of Suffolk, Vernon, a Lawyer, and Others.] PLANTAGENET Great lords and gentlemen, what means this silence? Dare no man answer in a case of truth? SUFFOLK Within the Temple Hall we were too loud; The garden here is more convenient. PLANTAGENET Then say at once if I maintained the truth, Or else was wrangling Somerset in th' error? SUFFOLK Faith, I have been a truant in the law And never yet could frame my will to it, And therefore frame the law unto my will. SOMERSET Judge you, my Lord of Warwick, then, between us. WARWICK Between two hawks, which flies the higher pitch, Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth, Between two blades, which bears the better temper, Between two horses, which doth bear him best, Between two girls, which hath the merriest eye, I have perhaps some shallow spirit of judgment; But in these nice sharp quillets of the law, Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw. PLANTAGENET Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance! The truth appears so naked on my side That any purblind eye may find it out. SOMERSET And on my side it is so well appareled, So clear, so shining, and so evident, That it will glimmer through a blind man's eye. PLANTAGENET Since you are tongue-tied and so loath to speak, In dumb significants proclaim your thoughts: Let him that is a trueborn gentleman And stands upon the honor of his birth, If he suppose that I have pleaded truth, From off this brier pluck a white rose with me. SOMERSET Let him that is no coward nor no flatterer, But dare maintain the party of the truth, Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me. WARWICK I love no colors; and, without all color Of base insinuating flattery, I pluck this white rose with Plantagenet. SUFFOLK I pluck this red rose with young Somerset, And say withal I think he held the right. VERNON Stay, lords and gentlemen, and pluck no more Till you conclude that he upon whose side The fewest roses are cropped from the tree Shall yield the other in the right opinion. SOMERSET Good Master Vernon, it is well objected: If I have fewest, I subscribe in silence. PLANTAGENET And I. VERNON Then for the truth and plainness of the case, I pluck this pale and maiden blossom here, Giving my verdict on the white rose side. SOMERSET Prick not your finger as you pluck it off, Lest, bleeding, you do paint the white rose red, And fall on my side so against your will. VERNON If I, my lord, for my opinion bleed, Opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt And keep me on the side where still I am. SOMERSET Well, well, come on, who else? LAWYER Unless my study and my books be false, The argument you held was wrong in law, In sign whereof I pluck a white rose too. PLANTAGENET Now, Somerset, where is your argument? SOMERSET Here in my scabbard, meditating that Shall dye your white rose in a bloody red. PLANTAGENET Meantime your cheeks do counterfeit our roses, For pale they look with fear, as witnessing The truth on our side. SOMERSET No, Plantagenet. 'Tis not for fear, but anger that thy cheeks Blush for pure shame to counterfeit our roses, And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error. PLANTAGENET Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset? SOMERSET Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet? PLANTAGENET Ay, sharp and piercing, to maintain his truth, Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood. SOMERSET Well, I'll find friends to wear my bleeding roses That shall maintain what I have said is true, Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen. PLANTAGENET Now, by this maiden blossom in my hand, I scorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boy. SUFFOLK Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet. PLANTAGENET Proud Pole, I will, and scorn both him and thee. SUFFOLK I'll turn my part thereof into thy throat. SOMERSET Away, away, good William de la Pole! We grace the yeoman by conversing with him. WARWICK Now, by God's will, thou wrong'st him, Somerset. His grandfather was Lionel, Duke of Clarence, Third son to the third Edward, King of England. Spring crestless yeomen from so deep a root? PLANTAGENET He bears him on the place's privilege, Or durst not for his craven heart say thus. SOMERSET By Him that made me, I'll maintain my words On any plot of ground in Christendom. Was not thy father Richard, Earl of Cambridge, For treason executed in our late king's days? And, by his treason, stand'st not thou attainted, Corrupted, and exempt from ancient gentry? His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood, And, till thou be restored, thou art a yeoman. PLANTAGENET My father was attached, not attainted, Condemned to die for treason, but no traitor; And that I'll prove on better men than Somerset, Were growing time once ripened to my will. For your partaker Pole and you yourself, I'll note you in my book of memory To scourge you for this apprehension. Look to it well, and say you are well warned. SOMERSET Ah, thou shalt find us ready for thee still, And know us by these colors for thy foes, For these my friends in spite of thee shall wear. PLANTAGENET And, by my soul, this pale and angry rose, As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate, Will I forever, and my faction, wear Until it wither with me to my grave Or flourish to the height of my degree. SUFFOLK Go forward, and be choked with thy ambition! And so farewell, until I meet thee next. [He exits.] SOMERSET Have with thee, Pole.--Farewell, ambitious Richard. [He exits.] PLANTAGENET How I am braved, and must perforce endure it! WARWICK This blot that they object against your house Shall be whipped out in the next parliament, Called for the truce of Winchester and Gloucester; And if thou be not then created York, I will not live to be accounted Warwick. Meantime, in signal of my love to thee, Against proud Somerset and William Pole Will I upon thy party wear this rose. And here I prophesy: this brawl today, Grown to this faction in the Temple garden, Shall send, between the red rose and the white, A thousand souls to death and deadly night. PLANTAGENET Good Master Vernon, I am bound to you, That you on my behalf would pluck a flower. VERNON In your behalf still will I wear the same. LAWYER And so will I. PLANTAGENET Thanks, gentle sir. Come, let us four to dinner. I dare say This quarrel will drink blood another day. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Edmund Mortimer, brought in a chair, and Jailers.] MORTIMER Kind keepers of my weak decaying age, Let dying Mortimer here rest himself. Even like a man new-haled from the rack, So fare my limbs with long imprisonment; And these gray locks, the pursuivants of death, Nestor-like aged in an age of care, Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer; These eyes, like lamps whose wasting oil is spent, Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent; Weak shoulders, overborne with burdening grief, And pithless arms, like to a withered vine That droops his sapless branches to the ground; Yet are these feet, whose strengthless stay is numb, Unable to support this lump of clay, Swift-winged with desire to get a grave, As witting I no other comfort have. But tell me, keeper, will my nephew come? KEEPER Richard Plantagenet, my lord, will come. We sent unto the Temple, unto his chamber, And answer was returned that he will come. MORTIMER Enough. My soul shall then be satisfied. Poor gentleman, his wrong doth equal mine. Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign, Before whose glory I was great in arms, This loathsome sequestration have I had; And even since then hath Richard been obscured, Deprived of honor and inheritance. But now the arbitrator of despairs, Just Death, kind umpire of men's miseries, With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me hence. I would his troubles likewise were expired, That so he might recover what was lost. [Enter Richard Plantagenet.] KEEPER My lord, your loving nephew now is come. MORTIMER Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he come? PLANTAGENET Ay, noble uncle, thus ignobly used, Your nephew, late despised Richard, comes. MORTIMER, [to Jailer] Direct mine arms I may embrace his neck And in his bosom spend my latter gasp. O, tell me when my lips do touch his cheeks, That I may kindly give one fainting kiss. [He embraces Richard.] And now declare, sweet stem from York's great stock, Why didst thou say of late thou wert despised? PLANTAGENET First, lean thine aged back against mine arm, And in that ease I'll tell thee my disease. This day, in argument upon a case, Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and me, Among which terms he used his lavish tongue And did upbraid me with my father's death; Which obloquy set bars before my tongue, Else with the like I had requited him. Therefore, good uncle, for my father's sake, In honor of a true Plantagenet, And for alliance' sake, declare the cause My father, Earl of Cambridge, lost his head. MORTIMER That cause, fair nephew, that imprisoned me And hath detained me all my flow'ring youth Within a loathsome dungeon, there to pine, Was cursed instrument of his decease. PLANTAGENET Discover more at large what cause that was, For I am ignorant and cannot guess. MORTIMER I will, if that my fading breath permit And death approach not ere my tale be done. Henry the Fourth, grandfather to this king, Deposed his nephew Richard, Edward's son, The first begotten and the lawful heir Of Edward king, the third of that descent; During whose reign the Percies of the north, Finding his usurpation most unjust, Endeavored my advancement to the throne. The reason moved these warlike lords to this Was, for that--young Richard thus removed, Leaving no heir begotten of his body-- I was the next by birth and parentage; For by my mother I derived am From Lionel, Duke of Clarence, third son To King Edward the Third; whereas he From John of Gaunt doth bring his pedigree, Being but fourth of that heroic line. But mark: as in this haughty great attempt They labored to plant the rightful heir, I lost my liberty and they their lives. Long after this, when Henry the Fifth, Succeeding his father Bolingbroke, did reign, Thy father, Earl of Cambridge then, derived From famous Edmund Langley, Duke of York, Marrying my sister that thy mother was, Again, in pity of my hard distress, Levied an army, weening to redeem And have installed me in the diadem. But, as the rest, so fell that noble earl And was beheaded. Thus the Mortimers, In whom the title rested, were suppressed. PLANTAGENET Of which, my lord, your Honor is the last. MORTIMER True, and thou seest that I no issue have And that my fainting words do warrant death. Thou art my heir; the rest I wish thee gather. But yet be wary in thy studious care. PLANTAGENET Thy grave admonishments prevail with me. But yet methinks my father's execution Was nothing less than bloody tyranny. MORTIMER With silence, nephew, be thou politic; Strong-fixed is the house of Lancaster, And, like a mountain, not to be removed. But now thy uncle is removing hence, As princes do their courts when they are cloyed With long continuance in a settled place. PLANTAGENET O uncle, would some part of my young years Might but redeem the passage of your age. MORTIMER Thou dost then wrong me, as that slaughterer doth Which giveth many wounds when one will kill. Mourn not, except thou sorrow for my good; Only give order for my funeral. And so farewell, and fair be all thy hopes, And prosperous be thy life in peace and war. [Dies.] PLANTAGENET And peace, no war, befall thy parting soul. In prison hast thou spent a pilgrimage, And like a hermit overpassed thy days.-- Well, I will lock his counsel in my breast, And what I do imagine, let that rest.-- Keepers, convey him hence, and I myself Will see his burial better than his life. [Jailers exit carrying Mortimer's body.] Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer, Choked with ambition of the meaner sort. And for those wrongs, those bitter injuries, Which Somerset hath offered to my house, I doubt not but with honor to redress. And therefore haste I to the Parliament, Either to be restored to my blood, Or make mine ill th' advantage of my good. [He exits.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Flourish. Enter King Henry, Exeter, Gloucester, and Winchester; Richard Plantagenet and Warwick, with white roses; Somerset and Suffolk, with red roses; and Others. Gloucester offers to put up a bill. Winchester snatches it, tears it.] WINCHESTER Com'st thou with deep premeditated lines, With written pamphlets studiously devised? Humphrey of Gloucester, if thou canst accuse Or aught intend'st to lay unto my charge, Do it without invention, suddenly, As I with sudden and extemporal speech Purpose to answer what thou canst object. GLOUCESTER Presumptuous priest, this place commands my patience, Or thou shouldst find thou hast dishonored me. Think not, although in writing I preferred The manner of thy vile outrageous crimes, That therefore I have forged or am not able Verbatim to rehearse the method of my pen. No, prelate, such is thy audacious wickedness, Thy lewd, pestiferous, and dissentious pranks, As very infants prattle of thy pride. Thou art a most pernicious usurer, Froward by nature, enemy to peace, Lascivious, wanton, more than well beseems A man of thy profession and degree. And for thy treachery, what's more manifest, In that thou laid'st a trap to take my life As well at London Bridge as at the Tower? Besides, I fear me, if thy thoughts were sifted, The King, thy sovereign, is not quite exempt From envious malice of thy swelling heart. WINCHESTER Gloucester, I do defy thee.--Lords, vouchsafe To give me hearing what I shall reply. If I were covetous, ambitious, or perverse, As he will have me, how am I so poor? Or how haps it I seek not to advance Or raise myself, but keep my wonted calling? And for dissension, who preferreth peace More than I do, except I be provoked? No, my good lords, it is not that offends; It is not that that hath incensed the Duke. It is because no one should sway but he, No one but he should be about the King; And that engenders thunder in his breast And makes him roar these accusations forth. But he shall know I am as good-- GLOUCESTER As good! Thou bastard of my grandfather! WINCHESTER Ay, lordly sir; for what are you, I pray, But one imperious in another's throne? GLOUCESTER Am I not Protector, saucy priest? WINCHESTER And am not I a prelate of the Church? GLOUCESTER Yes, as an outlaw in a castle keeps, And useth it to patronage his theft. WINCHESTER Unreverent Gloucester! GLOUCESTER Thou art reverend Touching thy spiritual function, not thy life. WINCHESTER Rome shall remedy this. GLOUCESTER Roam thither then. WARWICK, [to Winchester] My lord, it were your duty to forbear. SOMERSET Ay, so the Bishop be not overborne. Methinks my lord should be religious, And know the office that belongs to such. WARWICK Methinks his Lordship should be humbler. It fitteth not a prelate so to plead. SOMERSET Yes, when his holy state is touched so near. WARWICK State holy, or unhallowed, what of that? Is not his Grace Protector to the King? PLANTAGENET, [aside] Plantagenet, I see, must hold his tongue, Lest it be said "Speak, sirrah, when you should; Must your bold verdict enter talk with lords?" Else would I have a fling at Winchester. KING HENRY Uncles of Gloucester and of Winchester, The special watchmen of our English weal, I would prevail, if prayers might prevail, To join your hearts in love and amity. O, what a scandal is it to our crown That two such noble peers as you should jar! Believe me, lords, my tender years can tell Civil dissension is a viperous worm That gnaws the bowels of the commonwealth. [A noise within: "Down with the tawny coats!"] What tumult 's this? WARWICK An uproar, I dare warrant, Begun through malice of the Bishop's men. [A noise again: "Stones! Stones!"] [Enter Mayor.] MAYOR O, my good lords, and virtuous Henry, Pity the city of London, pity us! The Bishop and the Duke of Gloucester's men, Forbidden late to carry any weapon, Have filled their pockets full of pebble stones And, banding themselves in contrary parts, Do pelt so fast at one another's pate That many have their giddy brains knocked out; Our windows are broke down in every street, And we, for fear, compelled to shut our shops. [Enter Servingmen in skirmish with bloody pates.] KING HENRY We charge you, on allegiance to ourself, To hold your slaught'ring hands and keep the peace.-- Pray, Uncle Gloucester, mitigate this strife. FIRST SERVINGMAN Nay, if we be forbidden stones, we'll fall to it with our teeth. SECOND SERVINGMAN Do what you dare, we are as resolute. [Skirmish again.] GLOUCESTER You of my household, leave this peevish broil, And set this unaccustomed fight aside. THIRD SERVINGMAN My lord, we know your Grace to be a man Just and upright, and, for your royal birth, Inferior to none but to his Majesty; And ere that we will suffer such a prince, So kind a father of the commonweal, To be disgraced by an inkhorn mate, We and our wives and children all will fight And have our bodies slaughtered by thy foes. FIRST SERVINGMAN Ay, and the very parings of our nails Shall pitch a field when we are dead. [Begin again.] GLOUCESTER Stay, stay, I say! And if you love me, as you say you do, Let me persuade you to forbear awhile. KING HENRY O, how this discord doth afflict my soul! Can you, my Lord of Winchester, behold My sighs and tears, and will not once relent? Who should be pitiful if you be not? Or who should study to prefer a peace If holy churchmen take delight in broils? WARWICK Yield, my Lord Protector--yield, Winchester-- Except you mean with obstinate repulse To slay your sovereign and destroy the realm. You see what mischief, and what murder too, Hath been enacted through your enmity. Then be at peace, except you thirst for blood. WINCHESTER He shall submit, or I will never yield. GLOUCESTER Compassion on the King commands me stoop, Or I would see his heart out ere the priest Should ever get that privilege of me. WARWICK Behold, my Lord of Winchester, the Duke Hath banished moody discontented fury, As by his smoothed brows it doth appear. Why look you still so stern and tragical? GLOUCESTER Here, Winchester, I offer thee my hand. [Winchester refuses Gloucester's hand.] KING HENRY Fie, Uncle Beaufort! I have heard you preach That malice was a great and grievous sin; And will not you maintain the thing you teach, But prove a chief offender in the same? WARWICK Sweet king! The Bishop hath a kindly gird.-- For shame, my Lord of Winchester, relent; What, shall a child instruct you what to do? WINCHESTER Well, Duke of Gloucester, I will yield to thee; Love for thy love and hand for hand I give. [They take each other's hand.] GLOUCESTER, [aside] Ay, but I fear me with a hollow heart.-- See here, my friends and loving countrymen, This token serveth for a flag of truce Betwixt ourselves and all our followers, So help me God, as I dissemble not. WINCHESTER, [aside] So help me God, as I intend it not. KING HENRY O, loving uncle--kind Duke of Gloucester-- How joyful am I made by this contract. [To the Servingmen.] Away, my masters, trouble us no more, But join in friendship as your lords have done. FIRST SERVINGMAN Content. I'll to the surgeon's. SECOND SERVINGMAN And so will I. THIRD SERVINGMAN And I will see what physic the tavern affords. [They exit with Mayor and Others.] WARWICK, [presenting a scroll] Accept this scroll, most gracious sovereign, Which in the right of Richard Plantagenet We do exhibit to your Majesty. GLOUCESTER Well urged, my Lord of Warwick.--For, sweet prince, An if your Grace mark every circumstance, You have great reason to do Richard right, Especially for those occasions At Eltham Place I told your Majesty. KING HENRY And those occasions, uncle, were of force.-- Therefore, my loving lords, our pleasure is That Richard be restored to his blood. WARWICK Let Richard be restored to his blood; So shall his father's wrongs be recompensed. WINCHESTER As will the rest, so willeth Winchester. KING HENRY If Richard will be true, not that alone But all the whole inheritance I give That doth belong unto the house of York, From whence you spring by lineal descent. PLANTAGENET Thy humble servant vows obedience And humble service till the point of death. KING HENRY Stoop then, and set your knee against my foot; [Plantagenet kneels.] And in reguerdon of that duty done I girt thee with the valiant sword of York. Rise, Richard, like a true Plantagenet, And rise created princely Duke of York. YORK, [formerly PLANTAGENET, standing] And so thrive Richard as thy foes may fall! And as my duty springs, so perish they That grudge one thought against your Majesty. ALL Welcome, high prince, the mighty Duke of York. SOMERSET, [aside] Perish, base prince, ignoble Duke of York. GLOUCESTER Now will it best avail your Majesty To cross the seas and to be crowned in France. The presence of a king engenders love Amongst his subjects and his loyal friends, As it disanimates his enemies. KING HENRY When Gloucester says the word, King Henry goes, For friendly counsel cuts off many foes. GLOUCESTER Your ships already are in readiness. [Sennet. Flourish. All but Exeter exit.] EXETER Ay, we may march in England or in France, Not seeing what is likely to ensue. This late dissension grown betwixt the peers Burns under feigned ashes of forged love And will at last break out into a flame. As festered members rot but by degree Till bones and flesh and sinews fall away, So will this base and envious discord breed. And now I fear that fatal prophecy Which in the time of Henry named the Fifth Was in the mouth of every sucking babe: That Henry born at Monmouth should win all, And Henry born at Windsor should lose all, Which is so plain that Exeter doth wish His days may finish ere that hapless time. [He exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Pucelle disguised, with four Soldiers with sacks upon their backs.] PUCELLE These are the city gates, the gates of Roan, Through which our policy must make a breach. Take heed. Be wary how you place your words; Talk like the vulgar sort of market men That come to gather money for their corn. If we have entrance, as I hope we shall, And that we find the slothful watch but weak, I'll by a sign give notice to our friends, That Charles the Dauphin may encounter them. SOLDIER Our sacks shall be a mean to sack the city, And we be lords and rulers over Roan; Therefore we'll knock. [Knock.] WATCH, [within] Qui la? PUCELLE Paysans la pauvre gens de France: Poor market folks that come to sell their corn. WATCH Enter, go in. The market bell is rung. PUCELLE, [aside] Now, Roan, I'll shake thy bulwarks to the ground. [They exit.] [Enter Charles, Bastard, Alanson, Reignier, and Soldiers.] CHARLES Saint Dennis bless this happy stratagem And once again we'll sleep secure in Roan. BASTARD Here entered Pucelle and her practisants. Now she is there, how will she specify "Here is the best and safest passage in"? REIGNIER By thrusting out a torch from yonder tower, Which, once discerned, shows that her meaning is: No way to that, for weakness, which she entered. [Enter Pucelle on the top, thrusting out a torch burning.] PUCELLE Behold, this is the happy wedding torch That joineth Roan unto her countrymen, But burning fatal to the Talbonites. BASTARD See, noble Charles, the beacon of our friend; The burning torch, in yonder turret stands. CHARLES Now shine it like a comet of revenge, A prophet to the fall of all our foes! REIGNIER Defer no time; delays have dangerous ends. Enter and cry "The Dauphin!" presently, And then do execution on the watch. [Alarum. They exit.] [An Alarum. Enter Talbot in an excursion.] TALBOT France, thou shalt rue this treason with thy tears, If Talbot but survive thy treachery. Pucelle, that witch, that damned sorceress, Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares, That hardly we escaped the pride of France. [He exits.] [An alarum. Excursions. Bedford brought in sick in a chair, carried by two Attendants. Enter Talbot and Burgundy without; within, Pucelle with a sack of grain, Charles, Bastard, Alanson, and Reignier on the walls.] PUCELLE, [to those below] Good morrow, gallants. Want you corn for bread? [She scatters grain on those below.] I think the Duke of Burgundy will fast Before he'll buy again at such a rate. 'Twas full of darnel. Do you like the taste? BURGUNDY Scoff on, vile fiend and shameless courtesan! I trust ere long to choke thee with thine own, And make thee curse the harvest of that corn. CHARLES Your Grace may starve, perhaps, before that time. BEDFORD O, let no words, but deeds, revenge this treason. PUCELLE What will you do, good graybeard? Break a lance And run a-tilt at Death within a chair? TALBOT Foul fiend of France and hag of all despite, Encompassed with thy lustful paramours, Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age And twit with cowardice a man half dead? Damsel, I'll have a bout with you again, Or else let Talbot perish with this shame. PUCELLE Are you so hot, sir? Yet, Pucelle, hold thy peace, If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow. [Those below whisper together in council.] God speed the Parliament! Who shall be the Speaker? TALBOT Dare you come forth and meet us in the field? PUCELLE Belike your Lordship takes us then for fools, To try if that our own be ours or no. TALBOT I speak not to that railing Hecate, But unto thee, Alanson, and the rest. Will you, like soldiers, come and fight it out? ALANSON Seigneur, no. TALBOT Seigneur, hang! Base muleteers of France, Like peasant footboys do they keep the walls And dare not take up arms like gentlemen. PUCELLE Away, captains. Let's get us from the walls, For Talbot means no goodness by his looks.-- Goodbye, my lord. We came but to tell you That we are here. [They exit from the walls.] TALBOT And there will we be too, ere it be long, Or else reproach be Talbot's greatest fame.-- Vow, Burgundy, by honor of thy house, Pricked on by public wrongs sustained in France, Either to get the town again or die. And I, as sure as English Henry lives, And as his father here was conqueror, As sure as in this late-betrayed town Great Coeur-de-lion's heart was buried, So sure I swear to get the town or die. BURGUNDY My vows are equal partners with thy vows. TALBOT But, ere we go, regard this dying prince, The valiant Duke of Bedford.--Come, my lord, We will bestow you in some better place, Fitter for sickness and for crazy age. BEDFORD Lord Talbot, do not so dishonor me. Here will I sit, before the walls of Roan, And will be partner of your weal or woe. BURGUNDY Courageous Bedford, let us now persuade you-- BEDFORD Not to be gone from hence, for once I read That stout Pendragon, in his litter sick, Came to the field and vanquished his foes. Methinks I should revive the soldiers' hearts Because I ever found them as myself. TALBOT Undaunted spirit in a dying breast, Then be it so. Heavens keep old Bedford safe!-- And now no more ado, brave Burgundy, But gather we our forces out of hand And set upon our boasting enemy. [He exits with Burgundy. Bedford and Attendants remain.] [An alarum. Excursions. Enter Sir John Fastolf and a Captain.] CAPTAIN Whither away, Sir John Fastolf, in such haste? FASTOLF Whither away? To save myself by flight. We are like to have the overthrow again. CAPTAIN What, will you fly and leave Lord Talbot? FASTOLF Ay, All the Talbots in the world, to save my life. [He exits.] CAPTAIN Cowardly knight, ill fortune follow thee. [He exits.] [Retreat. Excursions. Pucelle, Alanson, and Charles enter, pursued by English Soldiers, and fly.] BEDFORD Now, quiet soul, depart when heaven please, For I have seen our enemies' overthrow. What is the trust or strength of foolish man? They that of late were daring with their scoffs Are glad and fain by flight to save themselves. [Bedford dies, and is carried in by two in his chair.] [An alarum. Enter Talbot, Burgundy, and the rest.] TALBOT Lost and recovered in a day again! This is a double honor, Burgundy. Yet heavens have glory for this victory. BURGUNDY Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy Enshrines thee in his heart, and there erects Thy noble deeds as valor's monuments. TALBOT Thanks, gentle duke. But where is Pucelle now? I think her old familiar is asleep. Now where's the Bastard's braves and Charles his gleeks? What, all amort? Roan hangs her head for grief That such a valiant company are fled. Now will we take some order in the town, Placing therein some expert officers, And then depart to Paris to the King, For there young Henry with his nobles lie. BURGUNDY What wills Lord Talbot pleaseth Burgundy. TALBOT But yet, before we go, let's not forget The noble Duke of Bedford late-deceased, But see his exequies fulfilled in Roan. A braver soldier never couched lance, A gentler heart did never sway in court. But kings and mightiest potentates must die, For that's the end of human misery. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Charles, Bastard, Alanson, Pucelle, and Soldiers.] PUCELLE Dismay not, princes, at this accident, Nor grieve that Roan is so recovered. Care is no cure, but rather corrosive For things that are not to be remedied. Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while, And like a peacock sweep along his tail; We'll pull his plumes and take away his train, If dauphin and the rest will be but ruled. CHARLES We have been guided by thee hitherto, And of thy cunning had no diffidence. One sudden foil shall never breed distrust. BASTARD, [to Pucelle] Search out thy wit for secret policies, And we will make thee famous through the world. ALANSON, [to Pucelle] We'll set thy statue in some holy place And have thee reverenced like a blessed saint. Employ thee then, sweet virgin, for our good. PUCELLE Then thus it must be; this doth Joan devise: By fair persuasions mixed with sugared words We will entice the Duke of Burgundy To leave the Talbot and to follow us. CHARLES Ay, marry, sweeting, if we could do that, France were no place for Henry's warriors, Nor should that nation boast it so with us, But be extirped from our provinces. ALANSON Forever should they be expulsed from France, And not have title of an earldom here. PUCELLE Your honors shall perceive how I will work To bring this matter to the wished end. [Drum sounds afar off.] Hark! By the sound of drum you may perceive Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward. [Here sound an English march.] There goes the Talbot with his colors spread, And all the troops of English after him. [French march.] Now in the rearward comes the Duke and his. Fortune in favor makes him lag behind. Summon a parley; we will talk with him. [Trumpets sound a parley.] CHARLES A parley with the Duke of Burgundy! [Enter Burgundy.] BURGUNDY Who craves a parley with the Burgundy? PUCELLE The princely Charles of France, thy countryman. BURGUNDY What say'st thou, Charles?--for I am marching hence. CHARLES, [aside to Pucelle] Speak, Pucelle, and enchant him with thy words. PUCELLE Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France, Stay; let thy humble handmaid speak to thee. BURGUNDY Speak on, but be not over-tedious. PUCELLE Look on thy country, look on fertile France, And see the cities and the towns defaced By wasting ruin of the cruel foe. As looks the mother on her lowly babe When death doth close his tender-dying eyes, See, see the pining malady of France: Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds, Which thou thyself hast given her woeful breast. O, turn thy edged sword another way; Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that help. One drop of blood drawn from thy country's bosom Should grieve thee more than streams of foreign gore. Return thee therefore with a flood of tears, And wash away thy country's stained spots. BURGUNDY, [aside] Either she hath bewitched me with her words, Or nature makes me suddenly relent. PUCELLE Besides, all French and France exclaims on thee, Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny. Who join'st thou with but with a lordly nation That will not trust thee but for profit's sake? When Talbot hath set footing once in France And fashioned thee that instrument of ill, Who then but English Henry will be lord, And thou be thrust out like a fugitive? Call we to mind, and mark but this for proof: Was not the Duke of Orleance thy foe? And was he not in England prisoner? But when they heard he was thine enemy, They set him free, without his ransom paid, In spite of Burgundy and all his friends. See then, thou fight'st against thy countrymen, And join'st with them will be thy slaughtermen. Come, come, return; return, thou wandering lord. Charles and the rest will take thee in their arms. BURGUNDY, [aside] I am vanquished. These haughty words of hers Have battered me like roaring cannon-shot, And made me almost yield upon my knees.-- Forgive me, country, and sweet countrymen; And, lords, accept this hearty kind embrace. [He embraces Charles, Bastard, and Alanson.] My forces and my power of men are yours. So, farewell, Talbot. I'll no longer trust thee. PUCELLE, [aside] Done like a Frenchman: turn and turn again. CHARLES Welcome, brave duke. Thy friendship makes us fresh. BASTARD And doth beget new courage in our breasts. ALANSON Pucelle hath bravely played her part in this And doth deserve a coronet of gold. CHARLES Now let us on, my lords, and join our powers, And seek how we may prejudice the foe. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Flourish. Enter the King, Gloucester, Winchester, Exeter; York, Warwick, and Vernon, with white roses; Somerset, Suffolk, and Basset, with red roses. To them, with his Soldiers, Talbot.] TALBOT My gracious prince and honorable peers, Hearing of your arrival in this realm, I have awhile given truce unto my wars To do my duty to my sovereign; In sign whereof, this arm, that hath reclaimed To your obedience fifty fortresses, Twelve cities, and seven walled towns of strength, Besides five hundred prisoners of esteem, Lets fall his sword before your Highness' feet, And with submissive loyalty of heart Ascribes the glory of his conquest got First to my God, and next unto your Grace. [He kneels.] KING HENRY Is this the Lord Talbot, Uncle Gloucester, That hath so long been resident in France? GLOUCESTER Yes, if it please your Majesty, my liege. KING HENRY Welcome, brave captain and victorious lord. When I was young--as yet I am not old-- I do remember how my father said A stouter champion never handled sword. Long since we were resolved of your truth, Your faithful service, and your toil in war; Yet never have you tasted our reward Or been reguerdoned with so much as thanks, Because till now we never saw your face. Therefore stand up; and for these good deserts We here create you Earl of Shrewsbury; And in our coronation take your place. [Talbot rises.] [Sennet. Flourish. All except Vernon and Basset exit.] VERNON Now, sir, to you that were so hot at sea, Disgracing of these colors that I wear In honor of my noble Lord of York, Dar'st thou maintain the former words thou spak'st? BASSET Yes, sir, as well as you dare patronage The envious barking of your saucy tongue Against my lord the Duke of Somerset. VERNON Sirrah, thy lord I honor as he is. BASSET Why, what is he? As good a man as York. VERNON Hark you, not so; in witness, take you that. [Strikes him.] BASSET Villain, thou knowest the law of arms is such That whoso draws a sword 'tis present death, Or else this blow should broach thy dearest blood. But I'll unto his Majesty, and crave I may have liberty to venge this wrong, When thou shalt see I'll meet thee to thy cost. [He exits.] VERNON Well, miscreant, I'll be there as soon as you, And after meet you sooner than you would. [He exits.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Flourish. Enter King, Gloucester, Winchester, Talbot, Exeter; York and Warwick, with white roses; Suffolk and Somerset, with red roses; Governor of Paris, and Others.] GLOUCESTER Lord Bishop, set the crown upon his head. WINCHESTER, [crowning King Henry] God save King Henry, of that name the Sixth! GLOUCESTER Now, Governor of Paris, take your oath. [Governor kneels.] That you elect no other king but him; Esteem none friends but such as are his friends, And none your foes but such as shall pretend Malicious practices against his state: This shall you do, so help you righteous God. [Governor rises.] [Enter Fastolf.] FASTOLF My gracious sovereign, as I rode from Callice To haste unto your coronation, A letter was delivered to my hands, Writ to your Grace from th' Duke of Burgundy. [He hands the King a paper.] TALBOT Shame to the Duke of Burgundy and thee! I vowed, base knight, when I did meet thee next, To tear the Garter from thy craven's leg, [tearing it off] Which I have done, because unworthily Thou wast installed in that high degree.-- Pardon me, princely Henry and the rest. This dastard, at the battle of Patay, When but in all I was six thousand strong And that the French were almost ten to one, Before we met or that a stroke was given, Like to a trusty squire did run away; In which assault we lost twelve hundred men. Myself and divers gentlemen besides Were there surprised and taken prisoners. Then judge, great lords, if I have done amiss, Or whether that such cowards ought to wear This ornament of knighthood--yea or no? GLOUCESTER To say the truth, this fact was infamous And ill beseeming any common man, Much more a knight, a captain, and a leader. TALBOT When first this Order was ordained, my lords, Knights of the Garter were of noble birth, Valiant and virtuous, full of haughty courage, Such as were grown to credit by the wars; Not fearing death nor shrinking for distress, But always resolute in most extremes. He then that is not furnished in this sort Doth but usurp the sacred name of knight, Profaning this most honorable Order, And should, if I were worthy to be judge, Be quite degraded, like a hedge-born swain That doth presume to boast of gentle blood. KING HENRY, [to Fastolf] Stain to thy countrymen, thou hear'st thy doom. Be packing therefore, thou that wast a knight. Henceforth we banish thee on pain of death. [Fastolf exits.] And now, my lord protector, view the letter Sent from our uncle, Duke of Burgundy. [He hands the paper to Gloucester.] GLOUCESTER What means his Grace that he hath changed his style? No more but, plain and bluntly, "To the King"! Hath he forgot he is his sovereign? Or doth this churlish superscription Pretend some alteration in good will? What's here? [(Reads.)] I have upon especial cause, Moved with compassion of my country's wrack, Together with the pitiful complaints Of such as your oppression feeds upon, Forsaken your pernicious faction And joined with Charles, the rightful king of France. O monstrous treachery! Can this be so? That in alliance, amity, and oaths There should be found such false dissembling guile? KING HENRY What? Doth my Uncle Burgundy revolt? GLOUCESTER He doth, my lord, and is become your foe. KING HENRY Is that the worst this letter doth contain? GLOUCESTER It is the worst, and all, my lord, he writes. KING HENRY Why, then, Lord Talbot there shall talk with him And give him chastisement for this abuse.-- How say you, my lord, are you not content? TALBOT Content, my liege? Yes. But that I am prevented, I should have begged I might have been employed. KING HENRY Then gather strength and march unto him straight; Let him perceive how ill we brook his treason And what offense it is to flout his friends. TALBOT I go, my lord, in heart desiring still You may behold confusion of your foes. [He exits.] [Enter Vernon, with a white rose, and Basset, with a red rose.] VERNON Grant me the combat, gracious sovereign. BASSET And me, my lord, grant me the combat too. YORK, [indicating Vernon] This is my servant; hear him, noble prince. SOMERSET, [indicating Basset] And this is mine, sweet Henry; favor him. KING HENRY Be patient, lords, and give them leave to speak.-- Say, gentlemen, what makes you thus exclaim, And wherefore crave you combat, or with whom? VERNON With him, my lord, for he hath done me wrong. BASSET And I with him, for he hath done me wrong. KING HENRY What is that wrong whereof you both complain? First let me know, and then I'll answer you. BASSET Crossing the sea from England into France, This fellow here with envious carping tongue Upbraided me about the rose I wear, Saying the sanguine color of the leaves Did represent my master's blushing cheeks When stubbornly he did repugn the truth About a certain question in the law Argued betwixt the Duke of York and him, With other vile and ignominious terms. In confutation of which rude reproach, And in defense of my lord's worthiness, I crave the benefit of law of arms. VERNON And that is my petition, noble lord; For though he seem with forged quaint conceit To set a gloss upon his bold intent, Yet know, my lord, I was provoked by him, And he first took exceptions at this badge, Pronouncing that the paleness of this flower Bewrayed the faintness of my master's heart. YORK Will not this malice, Somerset, be left? SOMERSET Your private grudge, my Lord of York, will out, Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it. KING HENRY Good Lord, what madness rules in brainsick men When for so slight and frivolous a cause Such factious emulations shall arise! Good cousins both, of York and Somerset, Quiet yourselves, I pray, and be at peace. YORK Let this dissension first be tried by fight, And then your Highness shall command a peace. SOMERSET The quarrel toucheth none but us alone; Betwixt ourselves let us decide it then. YORK, [throwing down a gage] There is my pledge; accept it, Somerset. VERNON, [to Somerset] Nay, let it rest where it began at first. BASSET, [to Somerset] Confirm it so, mine honorable lord. GLOUCESTER Confirm it so? Confounded be your strife, And perish you with your audacious prate! Presumptuous vassals, are you not ashamed With this immodest clamorous outrage To trouble and disturb the King and us?-- And you, my lords, methinks you do not well To bear with their perverse objections, Much less to take occasion from their mouths To raise a mutiny betwixt yourselves. Let me persuade you take a better course. EXETER It grieves his Highness. Good my lords, be friends. KING HENRY Come hither, you that would be combatants: Henceforth I charge you, as you love our favor, Quite to forget this quarrel and the cause.-- And you, my lords, remember where we are: In France, amongst a fickle wavering nation. If they perceive dissension in our looks, And that within ourselves we disagree, How will their grudging stomachs be provoked To willful disobedience and rebel! Besides, what infamy will there arise When foreign princes shall be certified That for a toy, a thing of no regard, King Henry's peers and chief nobility Destroyed themselves and lost the realm of France! O, think upon the conquest of my father, My tender years, and let us not forgo That for a trifle that was bought with blood. Let me be umpire in this doubtful strife. I see no reason if I wear this rose That anyone should therefore be suspicious I more incline to Somerset than York. [He puts on a red rose.] Both are my kinsmen, and I love them both. As well they may upbraid me with my crown Because, forsooth, the King of Scots is crowned. But your discretions better can persuade Than I am able to instruct or teach; And therefore, as we hither came in peace, So let us still continue peace and love. Cousin of York, we institute your Grace To be our regent in these parts of France;-- And good my Lord of Somerset, unite Your troops of horsemen with his bands of foot; And like true subjects, sons of your progenitors, Go cheerfully together and digest Your angry choler on your enemies. Ourself, my lord protector, and the rest, After some respite, will return to Callice; From thence to England, where I hope ere long To be presented, by your victories, With Charles, Alanson, and that traitorous rout. [Flourish. All but York, Warwick, Exeter, Vernon exit.] WARWICK My Lord of York, I promise you the King Prettily, methought, did play the orator. YORK And so he did, but yet I like it not In that he wears the badge of Somerset. WARWICK Tush, that was but his fancy; blame him not. I dare presume, sweet prince, he thought no harm. YORK And if iwis he did--but let it rest. Other affairs must now be managed. [York, Warwick and Vernon exit. Exeter remains.] EXETER Well didst thou, Richard, to suppress thy voice, For had the passions of thy heart burst out, I fear we should have seen deciphered there More rancorous spite, more furious raging broils, Than yet can be imagined or supposed. But howsoe'er, no simple man that sees This jarring discord of nobility, This shouldering of each other in the court, This factious bandying of their favorites, But sees it doth presage some ill event. 'Tis much when scepters are in children's hands, But more when envy breeds unkind division: There comes the ruin; there begins confusion. [He exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Talbot with Soldiers and Trump and Drum before Bordeaux.] TALBOT Go to the gates of Bordeaux, trumpeter. Summon their general unto the wall. [Trumpet sounds. Enter General and Others aloft.] English John Talbot, captains, calls you forth, Servant-in-arms to Harry, King of England, And thus he would: open your city gates, Be humble to us, call my sovereign yours, And do him homage as obedient subjects, And I'll withdraw me and my bloody power. But if you frown upon this proffered peace, You tempt the fury of my three attendants, Lean Famine, quartering Steel, and climbing Fire, Who, in a moment, even with the earth Shall lay your stately and air-braving towers, If you forsake the offer of their love. GENERAL Thou ominous and fearful owl of death, Our nation's terror and their bloody scourge, The period of thy tyranny approacheth. On us thou canst not enter but by death; For I protest we are well fortified And strong enough to issue out and fight. If thou retire, the Dauphin, well appointed, Stands with the snares of war to tangle thee. On either hand thee, there are squadrons pitched To wall thee from the liberty of flight; And no way canst thou turn thee for redress But Death doth front thee with apparent spoil, And pale Destruction meets thee in the face. Ten thousand French have ta'en the Sacrament To rive their dangerous artillery Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot. Lo, there thou stand'st, a breathing valiant man Of an invincible unconquered spirit. This is the latest glory of thy praise That I, thy enemy, due thee withal; For ere the glass that now begins to run Finish the process of his sandy hour, These eyes, that see thee now well-colored, Shall see thee withered, bloody, pale, and dead. [Drum afar off.] Hark, hark, the Dauphin's drum, a warning bell, Sings heavy music to thy timorous soul, And mine shall ring thy dire departure out. [He exits, aloft, with Others.] TALBOT He fables not; I hear the enemy. Out, some light horsemen, and peruse their wings. [Some Soldiers exit.] O, negligent and heedless discipline, How are we parked and bounded in a pale, A little herd of England's timorous deer Mazed with a yelping kennel of French curs. If we be English deer, be then in blood, Not rascal-like to fall down with a pinch, But rather, moody-mad and desperate stags, Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel And make the cowards stand aloof at bay. Sell every man his life as dear as mine And they shall find dear deer of us, my friends. God and Saint George, Talbot and England's right, Prosper our colors in this dangerous fight! [He exits with Soldiers, Drum and Trumpet.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter a Messenger that meets York. Enter York with Trumpet and many Soldiers.] YORK Are not the speedy scouts returned again That dogged the mighty army of the Dauphin? MESSENGER They are returned, my lord, and give it out That he is marched to Bordeaux with his power To fight with Talbot. As he marched along, By your espials were discovered Two mightier troops than that the Dauphin led, Which joined with him and made their march for Bordeaux. [He exits.] YORK A plague upon that villain Somerset That thus delays my promised supply Of horsemen that were levied for this siege! Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid, And I am louted by a traitor villain And cannot help the noble chevalier. God comfort him in this necessity. If he miscarry, farewell wars in France. [Enter Sir William Lucy.] LUCY Thou princely leader of our English strength, Never so needful on the earth of France, Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot, Who now is girdled with a waist of iron And hemmed about with grim destruction. To Bordeaux, warlike duke! To Bordeaux, York! Else farewell Talbot, France, and England's honor. YORK O God, that Somerset, who in proud heart Doth stop my cornets, were in Talbot's place! So should we save a valiant gentleman By forfeiting a traitor and a coward. Mad ire and wrathful fury makes me weep That thus we die while remiss traitors sleep. LUCY O, send some succor to the distressed lord! YORK He dies, we lose; I break my warlike word; We mourn, France smiles; we lose, they daily get, All long of this vile traitor Somerset. LUCY Then God take mercy on brave Talbot's soul, And on his son, young John, who two hours since I met in travel toward his warlike father. This seven years did not Talbot see his son, And now they meet where both their lives are done. YORK Alas, what joy shall noble Talbot have To bid his young son welcome to his grave? Away! Vexation almost stops my breath, That sundered friends greet in the hour of death. Lucy, farewell. No more my fortune can But curse the cause I cannot aid the man. Maine, Blois, Poictiers, and Tours are won away, Long all of Somerset and his delay. [York and his Soldiers exit.] LUCY Thus while the vulture of sedition Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders, Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss The conquest of our scarce-cold conqueror, That ever-living man of memory, Henry the Fifth. Whiles they each other cross, Lives, honors, lands, and all hurry to loss. [He exits.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Somerset with his army and a Captain from Talbot's army.] SOMERSET It is too late; I cannot send them now. This expedition was by York and Talbot Too rashly plotted. All our general force Might with a sally of the very town Be buckled with. The overdaring Talbot Hath sullied all his gloss of former honor By this unheedful, desperate, wild adventure. York set him on to fight and die in shame That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the name. [Enter Sir William Lucy.] CAPTAIN Here is Sir William Lucy, who with me Set from our o'er-matched forces forth for aid. SOMERSET How now, Sir William, whither were you sent? LUCY Whither, my lord? From bought and sold Lord Talbot, Who, ringed about with bold adversity, Cries out for noble York and Somerset To beat assailing Death from his weak regions; And whiles the honorable captain there Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs And, in advantage ling'ring, looks for rescue, You, his false hopes, the trust of England's honor, Keep off aloof with worthless emulation. Let not your private discord keep away The levied succors that should lend him aid, While he, renowned noble gentleman, Yield up his life unto a world of odds. Orleance the Bastard, Charles, Burgundy, Alanson, Reignier compass him about, And Talbot perisheth by your default. SOMERSET York set him on; York should have sent him aid. LUCY And York as fast upon your Grace exclaims, Swearing that you withhold his levied host Collected for this expedition. SOMERSET York lies. He might have sent and had the horse. I owe him little duty and less love, And take foul scorn to fawn on him by sending. LUCY The fraud of England, not the force of France, Hath now entrapped the noble-minded Talbot. Never to England shall he bear his life, But dies betrayed to fortune by your strife. SOMERSET Come, go. I will dispatch the horsemen straight. Within six hours they will be at his aid. LUCY Too late comes rescue; he is ta'en or slain, For fly he could not if he would have fled; And fly would Talbot never, though he might. SOMERSET If he be dead, brave Talbot, then adieu. LUCY His fame lives in the world, his shame in you. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Talbot and John Talbot, his son.] TALBOT O young John Talbot, I did send for thee To tutor thee in stratagems of war, That Talbot's name might be in thee revived When sapless age and weak unable limbs Should bring thy father to his drooping chair. But--O, malignant and ill-boding stars!-- Now thou art come unto a feast of Death, A terrible and unavoided danger. Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest horse, And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape By sudden flight. Come, dally not, be gone. JOHN TALBOT Is my name Talbot? And am I your son? And shall I fly? O, if you love my mother, Dishonor not her honorable name To make a bastard and a slave of me! The world will say "He is not Talbot's blood, That basely fled when noble Talbot stood." TALBOT Fly, to revenge my death if I be slain. JOHN TALBOT He that flies so will ne'er return again. TALBOT If we both stay, we both are sure to die. JOHN TALBOT Then let me stay and, father, do you fly. Your loss is great; so your regard should be. My worth unknown, no loss is known in me. Upon my death, the French can little boast; In yours they will; in you all hopes are lost. Flight cannot stain the honor you have won, But mine it will, that no exploit have done. You fled for vantage, everyone will swear; But if I bow, they'll say it was for fear. There is no hope that ever I will stay If the first hour I shrink and run away. [He kneels.] Here on my knee I beg mortality, Rather than life preserved with infamy. TALBOT Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one tomb? JOHN TALBOT Ay, rather than I'll shame my mother's womb. TALBOT Upon my blessing I command thee go. JOHN TALBOT To fight I will, but not to fly the foe. TALBOT Part of thy father may be saved in thee. JOHN TALBOT No part of him but will be shame in me. TALBOT Thou never hadst renown, nor canst not lose it. JOHN TALBOT Yes, your renowned name; shall flight abuse it? TALBOT Thy father's charge shall clear thee from that stain. JOHN TALBOT You cannot witness for me, being slain. If death be so apparent, then both fly. TALBOT And leave my followers here to fight and die? My age was never tainted with such shame. JOHN TALBOT And shall my youth be guilty of such blame? [He rises.] No more can I be severed from your side Than can yourself yourself in twain divide. Stay, go, do what you will; the like do I, For live I will not, if my father die. TALBOT Then here I take my leave of thee, fair son, Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon. Come, side by side, together live and die, And soul with soul from France to heaven fly. [They exit.] Scene 6 ======= [Alarum. Excursions, wherein Talbot's son John is hemmed about, and Talbot rescues him.] TALBOT Saint George, and victory! Fight, soldiers, fight! The Regent hath with Talbot broke his word And left us to the rage of France his sword. Where is John Talbot?--Pause, and take thy breath; I gave thee life and rescued thee from death. JOHN TALBOT O, twice my father, twice am I thy son! The life thou gav'st me first was lost and done Till with thy warlike sword, despite of fate, To my determined time thou gav'st new date. TALBOT When from the Dauphin's crest thy sword struck fire, It warmed thy father's heart with proud desire Of bold-faced victory. Then leaden age, Quickened with youthful spleen and warlike rage, Beat down Alanson, Orleance, Burgundy, And from the pride of Gallia rescued thee. The ireful Bastard Orleance, that drew blood From thee, my boy, and had the maidenhood Of thy first fight, I soon encountered, And, interchanging blows, I quickly shed Some of his bastard blood, and in disgrace Bespoke him thus: "Contaminated, base, And misbegotten blood I spill of thine, Mean and right poor, for that pure blood of mine Which thou didst force from Talbot, my brave boy." Here, purposing the Bastard to destroy, Came in strong rescue. Speak, thy father's care: Art thou not weary, John? How dost thou fare? Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly, Now thou art sealed the son of chivalry? Fly, to revenge my death when I am dead; The help of one stands me in little stead. O, too much folly is it, well I wot, To hazard all our lives in one small boat. If I today die not with Frenchmen's rage, Tomorrow I shall die with mickle age. By me they nothing gain, and, if I stay, 'Tis but the short'ning of my life one day. In thee thy mother dies, our household's name, My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame. All these and more we hazard by thy stay; All these are saved if thou wilt fly away. JOHN TALBOT The sword of Orleance hath not made me smart; These words of yours draw lifeblood from my heart. On that advantage, bought with such a shame, To save a paltry life and slay bright fame, Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly, The coward horse that bears me fall and die! And like me to the peasant boys of France, To be shame's scorn and subject of mischance! Surely, by all the glory you have won, An if I fly, I am not Talbot's son. Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot; If son to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot. TALBOT Then follow thou thy desp'rate sire of Crete, Thou Icarus; thy life to me is sweet. If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father's side, And commendable proved, let's die in pride. [They exit.] Scene 7 ======= [Alarum. Excursions. Enter old Talbot led by a Servant.] TALBOT Where is my other life? Mine own is gone. O, where's young Talbot? Where is valiant John? Triumphant Death, smeared with captivity, Young Talbot's valor makes me smile at thee. When he perceived me shrink and on my knee, His bloody sword he brandished over me, And like a hungry lion did commence Rough deeds of rage and stern impatience; But when my angry guardant stood alone, Tend'ring my ruin and assailed of none, Dizzy-eyed fury and great rage of heart Suddenly made him from my side to start Into the clust'ring battle of the French; And in that sea of blood, my boy did drench His over-mounting spirit; and there died My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride. [Enter Soldiers with John Talbot, borne.] SERVINGMAN O, my dear lord, lo where your son is borne! TALBOT Thou antic Death, which laugh'st us here to scorn, Anon from thy insulting tyranny, Coupled in bonds of perpetuity, Two Talbots, winged through the lither sky, In thy despite shall scape mortality.-- O, thou whose wounds become hard-favored Death, Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath! Brave Death by speaking, whither he will or no. Imagine him a Frenchman and thy foe.-- Poor boy, he smiles, methinks, as who should say "Had Death been French, then Death had died today."-- Come, come, and lay him in his father's arms; My spirit can no longer bear these harms. Soldiers, adieu! I have what I would have, Now my old arms are young John Talbot's grave. [Dies.] [Alarums. Soldiers exit.] [Enter Charles, Alanson, Burgundy, Bastard, and Pucelle, with Forces.] CHARLES Had York and Somerset brought rescue in, We should have found a bloody day of this. BASTARD How the young whelp of Talbot's, raging wood, Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood! PUCELLE Once I encountered him, and thus I said: "Thou maiden youth, be vanquished by a maid." But with a proud majestical high scorn He answered thus: "Young Talbot was not born To be the pillage of a giglot wench." So, rushing in the bowels of the French, He left me proudly, as unworthy fight. BURGUNDY Doubtless he would have made a noble knight. See where he lies inhearsed in the arms Of the most bloody nurser of his harms. BASTARD Hew them to pieces, hack their bones asunder, Whose life was England's glory, Gallia's wonder. CHARLES O, no, forbear! For that which we have fled During the life, let us not wrong it dead. [Enter Lucy with Attendants and a French Herald.] LUCY Herald, conduct me to the Dauphin's tent, To know who hath obtained the glory of the day. CHARLES On what submissive message art thou sent? LUCY Submission, dauphin? 'Tis a mere French word. We English warriors wot not what it means. I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta'en, And to survey the bodies of the dead. CHARLES For prisoners askst thou? Hell our prison is. But tell me whom thou seek'st. LUCY But where's the great Alcides of the field, Valiant Lord Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, Created for his rare success in arms Great Earl of Washford, Waterford, and Valence, Lord Talbot of Goodrich and Urchinfield, Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdon of Alton, Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, Lord Furnival of Sheffield, The thrice victorious Lord of Falconbridge, Knight of the noble Order of Saint George, Worthy Saint Michael, and the Golden Fleece, Great Marshal to Henry the Sixth Of all his wars within the realm of France? PUCELLE Here's a silly stately style indeed. The Turk, that two-and-fifty kingdoms hath, Writes not so tedious a style as this. Him that thou magnifi'st with all these titles Stinking and flyblown lies here at our feet. LUCY Is Talbot slain, the Frenchmen's only scourge, Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis? O, were mine eyeballs into bullets turned That I in rage might shoot them at your faces! O, that I could but call these dead to life, It were enough to fright the realm of France. Were but his picture left amongst you here, It would amaze the proudest of you all. Give me their bodies, that I may bear them hence And give them burial as beseems their worth. PUCELLE I think this upstart is old Talbot's ghost, He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit. For God's sake, let him have him. To keep them here, They would but stink and putrefy the air. CHARLES Go, take their bodies hence. LUCY I'll bear them hence. But from their ashes shall be reared A phoenix that shall make all France afeard. CHARLES So we be rid of them, do with him what thou wilt. [Lucy, Servant, and Attendants exit, bearing the bodies.] And now to Paris in this conquering vein. All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's slain. [They exit.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Sennet. Enter King, Gloucester, and Exeter, with Attendants.] KING HENRY, [to Gloucester] Have you perused the letters from the Pope, The Emperor, and the Earl of Armagnac? GLOUCESTER I have, my lord, and their intent is this: They humbly sue unto your Excellence To have a godly peace concluded of Between the realms of England and of France. KING HENRY How doth your Grace affect their motion? GLOUCESTER Well, my good lord, and as the only means To stop effusion of our Christian blood And stablish quietness on every side. KING HENRY Ay, marry, uncle, for I always thought It was both impious and unnatural That such immanity and bloody strife Should reign among professors of one faith. GLOUCESTER Besides, my lord, the sooner to effect And surer bind this knot of amity, The Earl of Armagnac, near knit to Charles, A man of great authority in France, Proffers his only daughter to your Grace In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry. KING HENRY Marriage, uncle? Alas, my years are young; And fitter is my study and my books Than wanton dalliance with a paramour. Yet call th' Ambassadors and, as you please, So let them have their answers every one. [An Attendant exits.] I shall be well content with any choice Tends to God's glory and my country's weal. [Enter Winchester, dressed in cardinal's robes, and the Ambassador of Armagnac, a Papal Legate, and another Ambassador.] EXETER, [aside] What, is my Lord of Winchester installed And called unto a cardinal's degree? Then I perceive that will be verified Henry the Fifth did sometime prophesy: "If once he come to be a cardinal, He'll make his cap coequal with the crown." KING HENRY My Lords Ambassadors, your several suits Have been considered and debated on; Your purpose is both good and reasonable, And therefore are we certainly resolved To draw conditions of a friendly peace, Which by my Lord of Winchester we mean Shall be transported presently to France. GLOUCESTER, [to the Ambassador of Armagnac] And for the proffer of my lord your master, I have informed his Highness so at large As, liking of the lady's virtuous gifts, Her beauty, and the value of her dower, He doth intend she shall be England's queen. KING HENRY, [handing a jewel to the Ambassador] In argument and proof of which contract, Bear her this jewel, pledge of my affection.-- And so, my Lord Protector, see them guarded And safely brought to Dover, where, inshipped, Commit them to the fortune of the sea. [All except Winchester and Legate exit.] WINCHESTER Stay, my Lord Legate; you shall first receive The sum of money which I promised Should be delivered to his Holiness For clothing me in these grave ornaments. LEGATE I will attend upon your Lordship's leisure. [He exits.] WINCHESTER Now Winchester will not submit, I trow, Or be inferior to the proudest peer. Humphrey of Gloucester, thou shalt well perceive That neither in birth or for authority The Bishop will be overborne by thee. I'll either make thee stoop and bend thy knee, Or sack this country with a mutiny. [He exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Charles, Burgundy, Alanson, Bastard, Reignier, and Joan la Pucelle, with Soldiers.] CHARLES These news, my lords, may cheer our drooping spirits: 'Tis said the stout Parisians do revolt And turn again unto the warlike French. ALANSON Then march to Paris, royal Charles of France, And keep not back your powers in dalliance. PUCELLE Peace be amongst them if they turn to us; Else ruin combat with their palaces! [Enter Scout.] SCOUT Success unto our valiant general, And happiness to his accomplices. CHARLES What tidings send our scouts? I prithee speak. SCOUT The English army that divided was Into two parties is now conjoined in one, And means to give you battle presently. CHARLES Somewhat too sudden, sirs, the warning is, But we will presently provide for them. BURGUNDY I trust the ghost of Talbot is not there. Now he is gone, my lord, you need not fear. PUCELLE Of all base passions, fear is most accursed. Command the conquest, Charles, it shall be thine; Let Henry fret and all the world repine. CHARLES Then on, my lords, and France be fortunate! [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Alarum. Excursions. Enter Joan la Pucelle.] PUCELLE The Regent conquers and the Frenchmen fly. Now help, you charming spells and periapts, And you choice spirits that admonish me, And give me signs of future accidents. [Thunder.] You speedy helpers, that are substitutes Under the lordly monarch of the north, Appear, and aid me in this enterprise. [Enter Fiends.] This speed and quick appearance argues proof Of your accustomed diligence to me. Now, you familiar spirits that are culled Out of the powerful regions under earth, Help me this once, that France may get the field. [They walk, and speak not.] O, hold me not with silence overlong! Where I was wont to feed you with my blood, I'll lop a member off and give it you In earnest of a further benefit, So you do condescend to help me now. [They hang their heads.] No hope to have redress? My body shall Pay recompense if you will grant my suit. [They shake their heads.] Cannot my body nor blood-sacrifice Entreat you to your wonted furtherance? Then take my soul--my body, soul, and all-- Before that England give the French the foil. [They depart.] See, they forsake me. Now the time is come That France must vail her lofty-plumed crest And let her head fall into England's lap. My ancient incantations are too weak, And hell too strong for me to buckle with. Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust. [She exits.] [Excursions. Burgundy and York fight hand to hand. Burgundy and the French fly as York and English soldiers capture Joan la Pucelle.] YORK Damsel of France, I think I have you fast. Unchain your spirits now with spelling charms, And try if they can gain your liberty. A goodly prize, fit for the devil's grace! See how the ugly witch doth bend her brows As if with Circe she would change my shape. PUCELLE Changed to a worser shape thou canst not be. YORK O, Charles the Dauphin is a proper man; No shape but his can please your dainty eye. PUCELLE A plaguing mischief light on Charles and thee, And may you both be suddenly surprised By bloody hands in sleeping on your beds! YORK Fell banning hag! Enchantress, hold thy tongue. PUCELLE I prithee give me leave to curse awhile. YORK Curse, miscreant, when thou com'st to the stake. [They exit.] [Alarum. Enter Suffolk with Margaret in his hand.] SUFFOLK Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner. [Gazes on her.] O fairest beauty, do not fear nor fly, For I will touch thee but with reverent hands. I kiss these fingers for eternal peace And lay them gently on thy tender side. Who art thou? Say, that I may honor thee. MARGARET Margaret my name, and daughter to a king, The King of Naples, whosoe'er thou art. SUFFOLK An earl I am, and Suffolk am I called. Be not offended, nature's miracle; Thou art allotted to be ta'en by me. So doth the swan her downy cygnets save, Keeping them prisoner underneath her wings. Yet if this servile usage once offend, Go and be free again as Suffolk's friend. [She is going.] O, stay! [(Aside.)] I have no power to let her pass. My hand would free her, but my heart says no. As plays the sun upon the glassy streams, Twinkling another counterfeited beam, So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes. Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak. I'll call for pen and ink and write my mind. Fie, de la Pole, disable not thyself! Hast not a tongue? Is she not here? Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight? Ay. Beauty's princely majesty is such Confounds the tongue and makes the senses rough. MARGARET Say, Earl of Suffolk, if thy name be so, What ransom must I pay before I pass? For I perceive I am thy prisoner. SUFFOLK, [aside] How canst thou tell she will deny thy suit Before thou make a trial of her love? MARGARET Why speak'st thou not? What ransom must I pay? SUFFOLK, [aside] She's beautiful, and therefore to be wooed; She is a woman, therefore to be won. MARGARET Wilt thou accept of ransom, yea or no? SUFFOLK, [aside] Fond man, remember that thou hast a wife; Then how can Margaret be thy paramour? MARGARET, [aside] I were best to leave him, for he will not hear. SUFFOLK, [aside] There all is marred; there lies a cooling card. MARGARET, [aside] He talks at random; sure the man is mad. SUFFOLK, [aside] And yet a dispensation may be had. MARGARET And yet I would that you would answer me. SUFFOLK, [aside] I'll win this Lady Margaret. For whom? Why, for my king. Tush, that's a wooden thing! MARGARET, [aside] He talks of wood. It is some carpenter. SUFFOLK, [aside] Yet so my fancy may be satisfied, And peace established between these realms. But there remains a scruple in that, too; For though her father be the King of Naples, Duke of Anjou and Maine, yet is he poor, And our nobility will scorn the match. MARGARET Hear you, captain? Are you not at leisure? SUFFOLK, [aside] It shall be so, disdain they ne'er so much. Henry is youthful, and will quickly yield.-- Madam, I have a secret to reveal. MARGARET, [aside] What though I be enthralled, he seems a knight, And will not any way dishonor me. SUFFOLK Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say. MARGARET, [aside] Perhaps I shall be rescued by the French, And then I need not crave his courtesy. SUFFOLK Sweet madam, give me hearing in a cause. MARGARET, [aside] Tush, women have been captivate ere now. SUFFOLK Lady, wherefore talk you so? MARGARET I cry you mercy, 'tis but quid for quo. SUFFOLK Say, gentle princess, would you not suppose Your bondage happy, to be made a queen? MARGARET To be a queen in bondage is more vile Than is a slave in base servility, For princes should be free. SUFFOLK And so shall you, If happy England's royal king be free. MARGARET Why, what concerns his freedom unto me? SUFFOLK I'll undertake to make thee Henry's queen, To put a golden scepter in thy hand And set a precious crown upon thy head, If thou wilt condescend to be my-- MARGARET What? SUFFOLK His love. MARGARET I am unworthy to be Henry's wife. SUFFOLK No, gentle madam, I unworthy am To woo so fair a dame to be his wife, And have no portion in the choice myself. How say you, madam? Are you so content? MARGARET An if my father please, I am content. SUFFOLK Then call our captains and our colors forth! [A Soldier exits.] And, madam, at your father's castle walls We'll crave a parley to confer with him. [Enter Captains and Trumpets. Sound a parley.] [Enter Reignier on the walls.] See, Reignier, see thy daughter prisoner! REIGNIER To whom? SUFFOLK To me. REIGNIER Suffolk, what remedy? I am a soldier and unapt to weep Or to exclaim on Fortune's fickleness. SUFFOLK Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord: Consent, and, for thy Honor give consent, Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king, Whom I with pain have wooed and won thereto; And this her easy-held imprisonment Hath gained thy daughter princely liberty. REIGNIER Speaks Suffolk as he thinks? SUFFOLK Fair Margaret knows That Suffolk doth not flatter, face, or feign. REIGNIER Upon thy princely warrant, I descend To give thee answer of thy just demand. [He exits from the walls.] SUFFOLK And here I will expect thy coming. [Trumpets sound. Enter Reignier, below.] REIGNIER Welcome, brave earl, into our territories. Command in Anjou what your Honor pleases. SUFFOLK Thanks, Reignier, happy for so sweet a child, Fit to be made companion with a king. What answer makes your Grace unto my suit? REIGNIER Since thou dost deign to woo her little worth To be the princely bride of such a lord, Upon condition I may quietly Enjoy mine own, the country Maine and Anjou, Free from oppression or the stroke of war, My daughter shall be Henry's, if he please. SUFFOLK That is her ransom; I deliver her, And those two counties I will undertake Your Grace shall well and quietly enjoy. REIGNIER And I, again in Henry's royal name As deputy unto that gracious king, Give thee her hand for sign of plighted faith. SUFFOLK Reignier of France, I give thee kingly thanks Because this is in traffic of a king. [Aside.] And yet methinks I could be well content To be mine own attorney in this case.-- I'll over then to England with this news, And make this marriage to be solemnized. So farewell, Reignier; set this diamond safe In golden palaces, as it becomes. REIGNIER, [embracing Suffolk] I do embrace thee, as I would embrace The Christian prince King Henry, were he here. MARGARET, [to Suffolk] Farewell, my lord; good wishes, praise, and prayers Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret. [She is going, as Reignier exits.] SUFFOLK Farewell, sweet madam. But, hark you, Margaret, No princely commendations to my king? MARGARET Such commendations as becomes a maid, A virgin, and his servant, say to him. SUFFOLK Words sweetly placed and modestly directed. But, madam, I must trouble you again: No loving token to his Majesty? MARGARET Yes, my good lord: a pure unspotted heart, Never yet taint with love, I send the King. SUFFOLK And this withal. [Kiss her.] MARGARET That for thyself. I will not so presume To send such peevish tokens to a king. [She exits.] SUFFOLK O, wert thou for myself! But, Suffolk, stay. Thou mayst not wander in that labyrinth. There Minotaurs and ugly treasons lurk. Solicit Henry with her wondrous praise; Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount And natural graces that extinguish art; Repeat their semblance often on the seas, That, when thou com'st to kneel at Henry's feet, Thou mayst bereave him of his wits with wonder. [He exits.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter York, Warwick, Shepherd, and Pucelle, guarded.] YORK Bring forth that sorceress condemned to burn. SHEPHERD Ah, Joan, this kills thy father's heart outright. Have I sought every country far and near, And, now it is my chance to find thee out, Must I behold thy timeless cruel death? Ah, Joan, sweet daughter Joan, I'll die with thee. PUCELLE Decrepit miser, base ignoble wretch! I am descended of a gentler blood. Thou art no father nor no friend of mine. SHEPHERD Out, out!--My lords, an please you, 'tis not so! I did beget her, all the parish knows; Her mother liveth yet, can testify She was the first fruit of my bach'lorship. WARWICK Graceless, wilt thou deny thy parentage? YORK This argues what her kind of life hath been, Wicked and vile; and so her death concludes. SHEPHERD Fie, Joan, that thou wilt be so obstacle! God knows thou art a collop of my flesh, And for thy sake have I shed many a tear. Deny me not, I prithee, gentle Joan. PUCELLE Peasant, avaunt!--You have suborned this man Of purpose to obscure my noble birth. SHEPHERD 'Tis true, I gave a noble to the priest The morn that I was wedded to her mother.-- Kneel down and take my blessing, good my girl. Wilt thou not stoop? Now cursed be the time Of thy nativity! I would the milk Thy mother gave thee when thou suck'dst her breast Had been a little ratsbane for thy sake! Or else, when thou didst keep my lambs afield, I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee! Dost thou deny thy father, cursed drab? O burn her, burn her! Hanging is too good. [He exits.] YORK Take her away, for she hath lived too long To fill the world with vicious qualities. PUCELLE First, let me tell you whom you have condemned: Not one begotten of a shepherd swain, But issued from the progeny of kings, Virtuous and holy, chosen from above By inspiration of celestial grace To work exceeding miracles on earth. I never had to do with wicked spirits. But you, that are polluted with your lusts, Stained with the guiltless blood of innocents, Corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices, Because you want the grace that others have, You judge it straight a thing impossible To compass wonders but by help of devils. No, misconceived! Joan of Arc hath been A virgin from her tender infancy, Chaste and immaculate in very thought, Whose maiden blood, thus rigorously effused, Will cry for vengeance at the gates of heaven. YORK Ay, ay.--Away with her to execution. WARWICK And hark you, sirs: because she is a maid, Spare for no faggots; let there be enow. Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake That so her torture may be shortened. PUCELLE Will nothing turn your unrelenting hearts? Then, Joan, discover thine infirmity, That warranteth by law to be thy privilege: I am with child, you bloody homicides. Murder not then the fruit within my womb, Although you hale me to a violent death. YORK Now heaven forfend, the holy maid with child? WARWICK, [to Pucelle] The greatest miracle that e'er you wrought! Is all your strict preciseness come to this? YORK She and the Dauphin have been juggling. I did imagine what would be her refuge. WARWICK Well, go to, we'll have no bastards live, Especially since Charles must father it. PUCELLE You are deceived; my child is none of his. It was Alanson that enjoyed my love. YORK Alanson, that notorious Machiavel? It dies an if it had a thousand lives! PUCELLE O, give me leave! I have deluded you. 'Twas neither Charles nor yet the Duke I named, But Reignier, King of Naples, that prevailed. WARWICK A married man? That's most intolerable. YORK Why, here's a girl! I think she knows not well-- There were so many--whom she may accuse. WARWICK It's sign she hath been liberal and free. YORK And yet, forsooth, she is a virgin pure!-- Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat and thee. Use no entreaty, for it is in vain. PUCELLE Then lead me hence, with whom I leave my curse: May never glorious sun reflex his beams Upon the country where you make abode, But darkness and the gloomy shade of death Environ you, till mischief and despair Drive you to break your necks or hang yourselves. [She exits, led by Guards.] YORK Break thou in pieces, and consume to ashes, Thou foul accursed minister of hell! [Enter Winchester, as Cardinal.] WINCHESTER Lord Regent, I do greet your Excellence With letters of commission from the King. For know, my lords, the states of Christendom, Moved with remorse of these outrageous broils, Have earnestly implored a general peace Betwixt our nation and the aspiring French; And here at hand the Dauphin and his train Approacheth to confer about some matter. YORK Is all our travail turned to this effect? After the slaughter of so many peers, So many captains, gentlemen, and soldiers That in this quarrel have been overthrown And sold their bodies for their country's benefit, Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace? Have we not lost most part of all the towns-- By treason, falsehood, and by treachery-- Our great progenitors had conquered? O, Warwick, Warwick, I foresee with grief The utter loss of all the realm of France! WARWICK Be patient, York; if we conclude a peace It shall be with such strict and severe covenants As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby. [Enter Charles, Alanson, Bastard, Reignier, with Attendants.] CHARLES Since, lords of England, it is thus agreed That peaceful truce shall be proclaimed in France, We come to be informed by yourselves What the conditions of that league must be. YORK Speak, Winchester, for boiling choler chokes The hollow passage of my poisoned voice By sight of these our baleful enemies. WINCHESTER Charles and the rest, it is enacted thus: That, in regard King Henry gives consent, Of mere compassion and of lenity, To ease your country of distressful war And suffer you to breathe in fruitful peace, You shall become true liegemen to his crown. And, Charles, upon condition thou wilt swear To pay him tribute and submit thyself, Thou shalt be placed as viceroy under him, And still enjoy thy regal dignity. ALANSON Must he be then as shadow of himself-- Adorn his temples with a coronet, And yet, in substance and authority, Retain but privilege of a private man? This proffer is absurd and reasonless. CHARLES 'Tis known already that I am possessed With more than half the Gallian territories, And therein reverenced for their lawful king. Shall I, for lucre of the rest unvanquished, Detract so much from that prerogative As to be called but viceroy of the whole? No, lord ambassador, I'll rather keep That which I have than, coveting for more, Be cast from possibility of all. YORK Insulting Charles, hast thou by secret means Used intercession to obtain a league And, now the matter grows to compromise, Stand'st thou aloof upon comparison? Either accept the title thou usurp'st, Of benefit proceeding from our king And not of any challenge of desert, Or we will plague thee with incessant wars. REIGNIER, [aside to Charles] My lord, you do not well in obstinacy To cavil in the course of this contract. If once it be neglected, ten to one We shall not find like opportunity. ALANSON, [aside to Charles] To say the truth, it is your policy To save your subjects from such massacre And ruthless slaughters as are daily seen By our proceeding in hostility; And therefore take this compact of a truce Although you break it when your pleasure serves. WARWICK How say'st thou, Charles? Shall our condition stand? CHARLES It shall--only reserved you claim no interest In any of our towns of garrison. YORK Then swear allegiance to his Majesty, As thou art knight, never to disobey Nor be rebellious to the crown of England, Thou nor thy nobles, to the crown of England. [Charles, Alanson, Bastard, and Reignier swear allegiance to Henry.] So, now dismiss your army when you please; Hang up your ensigns, let your drums be still, For here we entertain a solemn peace. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Suffolk in conference with the King, Gloucester, and Exeter, with Attendants.] KING HENRY Your wondrous rare description, noble earl, Of beauteous Margaret hath astonished me. Her virtues graced with external gifts Do breed love's settled passions in my heart, And like as rigor of tempestuous gusts Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide, So am I driven by breath of her renown Either to suffer shipwrack, or arrive Where I may have fruition of her love. SUFFOLK Tush, my good lord, this superficial tale Is but a preface of her worthy praise. The chief perfections of that lovely dame, Had I sufficient skill to utter them, Would make a volume of enticing lines Able to ravish any dull conceit; And, which is more, she is not so divine, So full replete with choice of all delights, But with as humble lowliness of mind She is content to be at your command-- Command, I mean, of virtuous chaste intents-- To love and honor Henry as her lord. KING HENRY And otherwise will Henry ne'er presume.-- Therefore, my Lord Protector, give consent That Margaret may be England's royal queen. GLOUCESTER So should I give consent to flatter sin. You know, my lord, your Highness is betrothed Unto another lady of esteem. How shall we then dispense with that contract And not deface your honor with reproach? SUFFOLK As doth a ruler with unlawful oaths; Or one that, at a triumph having vowed To try his strength, forsaketh yet the lists By reason of his adversary's odds. A poor earl's daughter is unequal odds, And therefore may be broke without offense. GLOUCESTER Why, what, I pray, is Margaret more than that? Her father is no better than an earl, Although in glorious titles he excel. SUFFOLK Yes, my lord, her father is a king, The King of Naples and Jerusalem, And of such great authority in France As his alliance will confirm our peace, And keep the Frenchmen in allegiance. GLOUCESTER And so the Earl of Armagnac may do, Because he is near kinsman unto Charles. EXETER Besides, his wealth doth warrant a liberal dower, Where Reignier sooner will receive than give. SUFFOLK A dower, my lords? Disgrace not so your king That he should be so abject, base, and poor, To choose for wealth and not for perfect love. Henry is able to enrich his queen, And not to seek a queen to make him rich; So worthless peasants bargain for their wives, As market men for oxen, sheep, or horse. Marriage is a matter of more worth Than to be dealt in by attorneyship. Not whom we will, but whom his Grace affects, Must be companion of his nuptial bed. And therefore, lords, since he affects her most, Most of all these reasons bindeth us In our opinions she should be preferred. For what is wedlock forced but a hell, An age of discord and continual strife? Whereas the contrary bringeth bliss And is a pattern of celestial peace. Whom should we match with Henry, being a king, But Margaret, that is daughter to a king? Her peerless feature, joined with her birth, Approves her fit for none but for a king. Her valiant courage and undaunted spirit, More than in women commonly is seen, Will answer our hope in issue of a king. For Henry, son unto a conqueror, Is likely to beget more conquerors, If with a lady of so high resolve As is fair Margaret he be linked in love. Then yield, my lords, and here conclude with me That Margaret shall be queen, and none but she. KING HENRY Whether it be through force of your report, My noble Lord of Suffolk, or for that My tender youth was never yet attaint With any passion of inflaming love, I cannot tell; but this I am assured: I feel such sharp dissension in my breast, Such fierce alarums both of hope and fear, As I am sick with working of my thoughts. Take therefore shipping; post, my lord, to France; Agree to any covenants, and procure That Lady Margaret do vouchsafe to come To cross the seas to England and be crowned King Henry's faithful and anointed queen. For your expenses and sufficient charge, Among the people gather up a tenth. Be gone, I say, for till you do return, I rest perplexed with a thousand cares.-- And you, good uncle, banish all offense. If you do censure me by what you were, Not what you are, I know it will excuse This sudden execution of my will. And so conduct me where, from company, I may revolve and ruminate my grief. [He exits with Attendants.] GLOUCESTER Ay, grief, I fear me, both at first and last. [Gloucester exits with Exeter.] SUFFOLK Thus Suffolk hath prevailed, and thus he goes As did the youthful Paris once to Greece, With hope to find the like event in love, But prosper better than the Trojan did. Margaret shall now be queen, and rule the King, But I will rule both her, the King, and realm. [He exits.]

Henry VI, Part 2 by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== KING HENRY VI QUEEN MARGARET Humphrey, Duke of GLOUCESTER, the king's uncle, and Lord Protector DUCHESS of Gloucester, Dame Eleanor Cobham CARDINAL Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester, the king's great-uncle Duke of SOMERSET Duke of SUFFOLK, William de la Pole, earlier Marquess of Suffolk BUCKINGHAM Lord CLIFFORD YOUNG CLIFFORD, his son Duke of YORK, Richard Plantagenet Earl of SALISBURY Earl of WARWICK, Salisbury's son Sons of the Duke of York: EDWARD, Earl of March RICHARD Jack CADE, leader of the Kentish rebellion Followers of Jack Cade: BEVIS John HOLLAND DICK the butcher SMITH the weaver MICHAEL GEORGE King Henry's supporters against Cade: Lord SCALES Lord SAYE Sir Humphrey STAFFORD His BROTHER, William Stafford Sir John HUME, a priest John SOUTHWELL, a priest Margery JOURDAIN, a witch Roger BOLINGBROKE, a conjurer SPIRIT Custodians of the Duchess of Gloucester: Sir John STANLEY SHERIFF Thomas HORNER, the Duke of York's armorer Peter THUMP, Horner the armorer's man or prentice Two or Three PETITIONERS Three NEIGHBORS of Horner's Three PRENTICES, friends of Thump A MAN of Saint Albans Sander SIMPCOX, supposed recipient of a miracle His WIFE MAYOR of Saint Albans A BEADLE of Saint Albans LIEUTENANT, captain of a ship Ship's MASTER Master's MATE Walter WHITMORE, a ship's officer Two GENTLEMEN, prisoners MESSENGERS SERVANTS A HERALD POST, or messenger Two or Three MURDERERS of Gloucester VAUX CLERK of Chartham Two or Three CITIZENS Alexander IDEN, a gentleman of Kent Servants, Guards, Falconers, Attendants, Townsmen of Saint Albans, Bearers, Drummers, Commoners, Rebels, a Sawyer, Soldiers, Officers, Matthew Gough, and Others ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Flourish of trumpets, then hautboys. Enter King Henry, Duke Humphrey of Gloucester, Salisbury, Warwick, and Cardinal Beaufort, on the one side; Queen Margaret, Suffolk, York, Somerset, and Buckingham, on the other.] SUFFOLK As by your high imperial Majesty I had in charge at my depart for France, As procurator to your Excellence, To marry Princess Margaret for your Grace, So, in the famous ancient city Tours, In presence of the Kings of France and Sicil, The Dukes of Orleance, Calaber, Britaigne, and Alanson, Seven earls, twelve barons, and twenty reverend bishops, I have performed my task and was espoused; [He kneels.] And humbly now upon my bended knee, In sight of England and her lordly peers, Deliver up my title in the Queen To your most gracious hands, that are the substance Of that great shadow I did represent: The happiest gift that ever marquess gave, The fairest queen that ever king received. KING HENRY Suffolk, arise.--Welcome, Queen Margaret. [Suffolk rises.] I can express no kinder sign of love Than this kind kiss. [He kisses her.] O Lord, that lends me life, Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness! For Thou hast given me in this beauteous face A world of earthly blessings to my soul, If sympathy of love unite our thoughts. QUEEN MARGARET Great king of England and my gracious lord, The mutual conference that my mind hath had By day, by night, waking and in my dreams, In courtly company or at my beads, With you, mine alderliefest sovereign, Makes me the bolder to salute my king With ruder terms, such as my wit affords And overjoy of heart doth minister. KING HENRY Her sight did ravish, but her grace in speech, Her words yclad with wisdom's majesty, Makes me from wond'ring fall to weeping joys, Such is the fullness of my heart's content. Lords, with one cheerful voice welcome my love. ALL [kneel.] Long live Queen Margaret, England's happiness! QUEEN MARGARET We thank you all. [Flourish. All rise.] SUFFOLK, [to Gloucester] My Lord Protector, so it please your Grace, Here are the articles of contracted peace Between our sovereign and the French king Charles, For eighteen months concluded by consent. [He hands Gloucester a paper.] GLOUCESTER [(reads)] Imprimis, it is agreed between the French king Charles and William de la Pole, Marquess of Suffolk, ambassador for Henry, King of England, that the said Henry shall espouse the Lady Margaret, daughter unto Reignier, King of Naples, Sicilia, and Jerusalem, and crown her Queen of England ere the thirtieth of May next ensuing. Item, that the duchy of Anjou and the county of Maine shall be released and delivered to the King her father-- [He drops the paper.] KING HENRY Uncle, how now? GLOUCESTER Pardon me, gracious lord. Some sudden qualm hath struck me at the heart And dimmed mine eyes, that I can read no further. KING HENRY Uncle of Winchester, I pray read on. CARDINAL [picks up the paper and reads] Item, it is further agreed between them that the duchies of Anjou and Maine shall be released and delivered to the King her father, and she sent over of the King of England's own proper cost and charges, without having any dowry. KING HENRY They please us well.--Lord Marquess, kneel down. [Suffolk kneels.] We here create thee the first Duke of Suffolk And girt thee with the sword. [Suffolk rises.] Cousin of York, We here discharge your Grace from being regent I' th' parts of France till term of eighteen months Be full expired.--Thanks, Uncle Winchester, Gloucester, York, Buckingham, Somerset, Salisbury, and Warwick; We thank you all for this great favor done In entertainment to my princely queen. Come, let us in, and with all speed provide To see her coronation be performed. [King, Queen, and Suffolk exit. The rest remain.] GLOUCESTER Brave peers of England, pillars of the state, To you Duke Humphrey must unload his grief, Your grief, the common grief of all the land. What, did my brother Henry spend his youth, His valor, coin, and people in the wars? Did he so often lodge in open field, In winter's cold and summer's parching heat, To conquer France, his true inheritance? And did my brother Bedford toil his wits To keep by policy what Henry got? Have you yourselves, Somerset, Buckingham, Brave York, Salisbury, and victorious Warwick, Received deep scars in France and Normandy? Or hath mine uncle Beaufort and myself, With all the learned council of the realm, Studied so long, sat in the Council House, Early and late, debating to and fro How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe, And had his Highness in his infancy Crowned in Paris in despite of foes? And shall these labors and these honors die? Shall Henry's conquest, Bedford's vigilance, Your deeds of war, and all our counsel die? O peers of England, shameful is this league, Fatal this marriage, cancelling your fame, Blotting your names from books of memory, Razing the characters of your renown, Defacing monuments of conquered France, Undoing all, as all had never been! CARDINAL Nephew, what means this passionate discourse, This peroration with such circumstance? For France, 'tis ours, and we will keep it still. GLOUCESTER Ay, uncle, we will keep it if we can, But now it is impossible we should. Suffolk, the new-made duke that rules the roast, Hath given the duchy of Anjou and Maine Unto the poor King Reignier, whose large style Agrees not with the leanness of his purse. SALISBURY Now, by the death of Him that died for all, These counties were the keys of Normandy. But wherefore weeps Warwick, my valiant son? WARWICK For grief that they are past recovery; For, were there hope to conquer them again, My sword should shed hot blood, mine eyes no tears. Anjou and Maine? Myself did win them both! Those provinces these arms of mine did conquer. And are the cities that I got with wounds Delivered up again with peaceful words? Mort Dieu! YORK For Suffolk's duke, may he be suffocate That dims the honor of this warlike isle! France should have torn and rent my very heart Before I would have yielded to this league. I never read but England's kings have had Large sums of gold and dowries with their wives; And our King Henry gives away his own To match with her that brings no vantages. GLOUCESTER A proper jest, and never heard before, That Suffolk should demand a whole fifteenth For costs and charges in transporting her! She should have stayed in France and starved in France Before-- CARDINAL My lord of Gloucester, now you grow too hot. It was the pleasure of my lord the King. GLOUCESTER My lord of Winchester, I know your mind. 'Tis not my speeches that you do mislike, But 'tis my presence that doth trouble you. Rancor will out. Proud prelate, in thy face I see thy fury. If I longer stay, We shall begin our ancient bickerings.-- Lordings, farewell; and say, when I am gone, I prophesied France will be lost ere long. [Gloucester exits.] CARDINAL So, there goes our Protector in a rage. 'Tis known to you he is mine enemy, Nay, more, an enemy unto you all, And no great friend, I fear me, to the King. Consider, lords, he is the next of blood And heir apparent to the English crown. Had Henry got an empire by his marriage, And all the wealthy kingdoms of the West, There's reason he should be displeased at it. Look to it, lords. Let not his smoothing words Bewitch your hearts; be wise and circumspect. What though the common people favor him, Calling him "Humphrey, the good Duke of Gloucester," Clapping their hands and crying with loud voice "Jesu maintain your royal Excellence!" With "God preserve the good Duke Humphrey!" I fear me, lords, for all this flattering gloss, He will be found a dangerous Protector. BUCKINGHAM Why should he, then, protect our sovereign, He being of age to govern of himself?-- Cousin of Somerset, join you with me, And all together, with the Duke of Suffolk, We'll quickly hoise Duke Humphrey from his seat. CARDINAL This weighty business will not brook delay. I'll to the Duke of Suffolk presently. [Cardinal exits.] SOMERSET Cousin of Buckingham, though Humphrey's pride And greatness of his place be grief to us, Yet let us watch the haughty cardinal. His insolence is more intolerable Than all the princes' in the land besides. If Gloucester be displaced, he'll be Protector. BUCKINGHAM Or thou or I, Somerset, will be Protector, Despite Duke Humphrey or the Cardinal. [Buckingham and Somerset exit.] SALISBURY Pride went before; Ambition follows him. While these do labor for their own preferment, Behooves it us to labor for the realm. I never saw but Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, Did bear him like a noble gentleman. Oft have I seen the haughty cardinal, More like a soldier than a man o' th' Church, As stout and proud as he were lord of all, Swear like a ruffian and demean himself Unlike the ruler of a commonweal.-- Warwick, my son, the comfort of my age, Thy deeds, thy plainness, and thy housekeeping Hath won the greatest favor of the Commons, Excepting none but good Duke Humphrey.-- And, brother York, thy acts in Ireland, In bringing them to civil discipline, Thy late exploits done in the heart of France, When thou wert regent for our sovereign, Have made thee feared and honored of the people. Join we together for the public good In what we can to bridle and suppress The pride of Suffolk and the Cardinal, With Somerset's and Buckingham's ambition; And, as we may, cherish Duke Humphrey's deeds While they do tend the profit of the land. WARWICK So God help Warwick, as he loves the land And common profit of his country! YORK And so says York--[aside] for he hath greatest cause. SALISBURY Then let's make haste away and look unto the main. WARWICK Unto the main? O father, Maine is lost! That Maine which by main force Warwick did win And would have kept so long as breath did last! Main chance, father, you meant; but I meant Maine, Which I will win from France or else be slain. [Warwick and Salisbury exit. York remains.] YORK Anjou and Maine are given to the French; Paris is lost; the state of Normandy Stands on a tickle point now they are gone. Suffolk concluded on the articles, The peers agreed, and Henry was well pleased To change two dukedoms for a duke's fair daughter. I cannot blame them all. What is 't to them? 'Tis thine they give away, and not their own. Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their pillage, And purchase friends, and give to courtesans, Still reveling like lords till all be gone; Whileas the silly owner of the goods Weeps over them, and wrings his hapless hands, And shakes his head, and trembling stands aloof, While all is shared and all is borne away, Ready to starve, and dare not touch his own. So York must sit and fret and bite his tongue While his own lands are bargained for and sold. Methinks the realms of England, France, and Ireland Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood As did the fatal brand Althaea burnt Unto the Prince's heart of Calydon. Anjou and Maine both given unto the French! Cold news for me, for I had hope of France, Even as I have of fertile England's soil. A day will come when York shall claim his own; And therefore I will take the Nevilles' parts And make a show of love to proud Duke Humphrey, And, when I spy advantage, claim the crown, For that's the golden mark I seek to hit. Nor shall proud Lancaster usurp my right, Nor hold the scepter in his childish fist, Nor wear the diadem upon his head, Whose churchlike humors fits not for a crown. Then, York, be still awhile till time do serve. Watch thou and wake, when others be asleep, To pry into the secrets of the state Till Henry, surfeiting in joys of love With his new bride and England's dear-bought queen, And Humphrey with the peers be fall'n at jars. Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose, With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfumed, And in my standard bear the arms of York, To grapple with the house of Lancaster; And force perforce I'll make him yield the crown, Whose bookish rule hath pulled fair England down. [York exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Duke Humphrey of Gloucester and his wife the Duchess Eleanor.] DUCHESS Why droops my lord like over-ripened corn Hanging the head at Ceres' plenteous load? Why doth the great Duke Humphrey knit his brows, As frowning at the favors of the world? Why are thine eyes fixed to the sullen earth, Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight? What seest thou there? King Henry's diadem, Enchased with all the honors of the world? If so, gaze on and grovel on thy face Until thy head be circled with the same. Put forth thy hand; reach at the glorious gold. What, is 't too short? I'll lengthen it with mine; And, having both together heaved it up, We'll both together lift our heads to heaven And never more abase our sight so low As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground. GLOUCESTER O Nell, sweet Nell, if thou dost love thy lord, Banish the canker of ambitious thoughts! And may that hour when I imagine ill Against my king and nephew, virtuous Henry, Be my last breathing in this mortal world! My troublous dreams this night doth make me sad. DUCHESS What dreamed my lord? Tell me, and I'll requite it With sweet rehearsal of my morning's dream. GLOUCESTER Methought this staff, mine office badge in court, Was broke in twain--by whom I have forgot, But, as I think, it was by th' Cardinal-- And on the pieces of the broken wand Were placed the heads of Edmund, Duke of Somerset, And William de la Pole, first Duke of Suffolk. This was my dream. What it doth bode God knows. DUCHESS Tut, this was nothing but an argument That he that breaks a stick of Gloucester's grove Shall lose his head for his presumption. But list to me, my Humphrey, my sweet duke: Methought I sat in seat of majesty, In the cathedral church of Westminster And in that chair where kings and queens were crowned, Where Henry and Dame Margaret kneeled to me And on my head did set the diadem. GLOUCESTER Nay, Eleanor, then must I chide outright. Presumptuous dame, ill-nurtured Eleanor, Art thou not second woman in the realm And the Protector's wife, beloved of him? Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command, Above the reach or compass of thy thought? And wilt thou still be hammering treachery To tumble down thy husband and thyself From top of honor to disgrace's feet? Away from me, and let me hear no more! DUCHESS What, what, my lord? Are you so choleric With Eleanor for telling but her dream? Next time I'll keep my dreams unto myself And not be checked. GLOUCESTER Nay, be not angry. I am pleased again. [Enter Messenger.] MESSENGER My Lord Protector, 'tis his Highness' pleasure You do prepare to ride unto Saint Albans, Whereas the King and Queen do mean to hawk. GLOUCESTER I go.--Come, Nell, thou wilt ride with us? DUCHESS Yes, my good lord. I'll follow presently. [Gloucester exits, with Messenger.] Follow I must; I cannot go before While Gloucester bears this base and humble mind. Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood, I would remove these tedious stumbling blocks And smooth my way upon their headless necks; And, being a woman, I will not be slack To play my part in Fortune's pageant.-- Where are you there? Sir John! Nay, fear not, man. We are alone; here's none but thee and I. [Enter Sir John Hume.] HUME Jesus preserve your royal Majesty! DUCHESS What sayst thou? "Majesty"? I am but "Grace." HUME But by the grace of God and Hume's advice, Your Grace's title shall be multiplied. DUCHESS What sayst thou, man? Hast thou as yet conferred With Margery Jourdain, the cunning witch, With Roger Bolingbroke, the conjurer? And will they undertake to do me good? HUME This they have promised: to show your Highness A spirit raised from depth of underground That shall make answer to such questions As by your Grace shall be propounded him. DUCHESS It is enough. I'll think upon the questions. When from Saint Albans we do make return, We'll see these things effected to the full. Here, Hume, take this reward. [She gives him money.] Make merry, man, With thy confederates in this weighty cause. [Duchess exits.] HUME Hume must make merry with the Duchess' gold. Marry, and shall! But, how now, Sir John Hume? Seal up your lips, and give no words but "mum"; The business asketh silent secrecy. Dame Eleanor gives gold to bring the witch; Gold cannot come amiss, were she a devil. Yet have I gold flies from another coast-- I dare not say, from the rich cardinal And from the great and new-made Duke of Suffolk, Yet I do find it so. For, to be plain, They, knowing Dame Eleanor's aspiring humor, Have hired me to undermine the Duchess And buzz these conjurations in her brain. They say a crafty knave does need no broker, Yet am I Suffolk and the Cardinal's broker. Hume, if you take not heed, you shall go near To call them both a pair of crafty knaves. Well, so it stands; and thus I fear at last Hume's knavery will be the Duchess' wrack, And her attainture will be Humphrey's fall. Sort how it will, I shall have gold for all. [He exits.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter three or four Petitioners, Peter, the Armorer's man, being one.] FIRST PETITIONER My masters, let's stand close. My Lord Protector will come this way by and by, and then we may deliver our supplications in the quill. SECOND PETITIONER Marry, the Lord protect him, for he's a good man! Jesu bless him! [Enter Suffolk, wearing the red rose, and Queen Margaret.] FIRST PETITIONER Here he comes, methinks, and the Queen with him. I'll be the first, sure. [He steps forward.] SECOND PETITIONER Come back, fool! This is the Duke of Suffolk, and not my Lord Protector. SUFFOLK How now, fellow? Wouldst anything with me? FIRST PETITIONER I pray, my lord, pardon me. I took you for my Lord Protector. QUEEN MARGARET [takes a petition and reads.] To my Lord Protector. Are your supplications to his Lordship? Let me see them.--What is thine? FIRST PETITIONER Mine is, an 't please your Grace, against John Goodman, my Lord Cardinal's man, for keeping my house, and lands, and wife and all, from me. SUFFOLK Thy wife too? That's some wrong indeed.-- What's yours? [Taking a petition.] What's here? [(Reads.)] Against the Duke of Suffolk for enclosing the commons of Melford. How now, sir knave? SECOND PETITIONER Alas, sir, I am but a poor petitioner of our whole township. PETER, [showing his petition] Against my master, Thomas Horner, for saying that the Duke of York was rightful heir to the crown. QUEEN MARGARET What sayst thou? Did the Duke of York say he was rightful heir to the crown? PETER That my master was? No, forsooth. My master said that he was and that the King was an usurper. SUFFOLK, [calling] Who is there? [Enter Servant.] Take this fellow in, and send for his master with a pursuivant presently.--We'll hear more of your matter before the King. [Peter exits with Servant.] QUEEN MARGARET And as for you that love to be protected Under the wings of our Protector's grace, Begin your suits anew, and sue to him. [Tear the supplication.] Away, base cullions.--Suffolk, let them go. ALL Come, let's be gone. [They exit.] QUEEN MARGARET My lord of Suffolk, say, is this the guise, Is this the fashions in the court of England? Is this the government of Britain's isle And this the royalty of Albion's king? What, shall King Henry be a pupil still Under the surly Gloucester's governance? Am I a queen in title and in style, And must be made a subject to a duke? I tell thee, Pole, when in the city Tours Thou rann'st atilt in honor of my love And stol'st away the ladies' hearts of France, I thought King Henry had resembled thee In courage, courtship, and proportion. But all his mind is bent to holiness, To number Ave Marys on his beads; His champions are the prophets and apostles, His weapons holy saws of sacred writ, His study is his tiltyard, and his loves Are brazen images of canonized saints. I would the College of the Cardinals Would choose him pope and carry him to Rome And set the triple crown upon his head! That were a state fit for his holiness. SUFFOLK Madam, be patient. As I was cause Your Highness came to England, so will I In England work your Grace's full content. QUEEN MARGARET Besides the haughty Protector, have we Beaufort The imperious churchman, Somerset, Buckingham, And grumbling York; and not the least of these But can do more in England than the King. SUFFOLK And he of these that can do most of all Cannot do more in England than the Nevilles; Salisbury and Warwick are no simple peers. QUEEN MARGARET Not all these lords do vex me half so much As that proud dame, the Lord Protector's wife. She sweeps it through the court with troops of ladies, More like an empress than Duke Humphrey's wife. Strangers in court do take her for the Queen. She bears a duke's revenues on her back, And in her heart she scorns our poverty. Shall I not live to be avenged on her? Contemptuous baseborn callet as she is, She vaunted 'mongst her minions t' other day The very train of her worst wearing gown Was better worth than all my father's lands Till Suffolk gave two dukedoms for his daughter. SUFFOLK Madam, myself have limed a bush for her And placed a choir of such enticing birds That she will light to listen to the lays And never mount to trouble you again. So let her rest. And, madam, list to me, For I am bold to counsel you in this: Although we fancy not the Cardinal, Yet must we join with him and with the lords Till we have brought Duke Humphrey in disgrace. As for the Duke of York, this late complaint Will make but little for his benefit. So, one by one, we'll weed them all at last, And you yourself shall steer the happy helm. [Sound a sennet. Enter King Henry, Duke Humphrey of Gloucester, Cardinal, Somerset, wearing the red rose, Buckingham, Salisbury; York and Warwick, both wearing the white rose; and the Duchess of Gloucester.] KING HENRY For my part, noble lords, I care not which; Or Somerset or York, all's one to me. YORK If York have ill demeaned himself in France, Then let him be denied the regentship. SOMERSET If Somerset be unworthy of the place, Let York be regent; I will yield to him. WARWICK Whether your Grace be worthy, yea or no, Dispute not that. York is the worthier. CARDINAL Ambitious Warwick, let thy betters speak. WARWICK The Cardinal's not my better in the field. BUCKINGHAM All in this presence are thy betters, Warwick. WARWICK Warwick may live to be the best of all. SALISBURY Peace, son.--And show some reason, Buckingham, Why Somerset should be preferred in this. QUEEN MARGARET Because the King, forsooth, will have it so. GLOUCESTER Madam, the King is old enough himself To give his censure. These are no women's matters. QUEEN MARGARET If he be old enough, what needs your Grace To be Protector of his Excellence? GLOUCESTER Madam, I am Protector of the realm, And at his pleasure will resign my place. SUFFOLK Resign it, then, and leave thine insolence. Since thou wert king--as who is king but thou?-- The commonwealth hath daily run to wrack, The Dauphin hath prevailed beyond the seas, And all the peers and nobles of the realm Have been as bondmen to thy sovereignty. CARDINAL, [to Gloucester] The Commons hast thou racked; the clergy's bags Are lank and lean with thy extortions. SOMERSET, [to Gloucester] Thy sumptuous buildings and thy wife's attire Have cost a mass of public treasury. BUCKINGHAM, [to Gloucester] Thy cruelty in execution Upon offenders hath exceeded law And left thee to the mercy of the law. QUEEN MARGARET, [to Gloucester] Thy sale of offices and towns in France, If they were known, as the suspect is great, Would make thee quickly hop without thy head. [Gloucester exits.] [Queen Margaret drops her fan.] [To Duchess.] Give me my fan. What, minion, can you not? [She gives the Duchess a box on the ear.] I cry you mercy, madam. Was it you? DUCHESS Was 't I? Yea, I it was, proud Frenchwoman. Could I come near your beauty with my nails, I'd set my ten commandments in your face. KING HENRY Sweet aunt, be quiet. 'Twas against her will. DUCHESS Against her will, good king? Look to 't in time. She'll hamper thee and dandle thee like a baby. Though in this place most master wear no breeches, She shall not strike Dame Eleanor unrevenged. [Eleanor, the Duchess, exits.] BUCKINGHAM, [aside to Cardinal] Lord Cardinal, I will follow Eleanor And listen after Humphrey how he proceeds. She's tickled now; her fume needs no spurs; She'll gallop far enough to her destruction. [Buckingham exits.] [Enter Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester.] GLOUCESTER Now, lords, my choler being overblown With walking once about the quadrangle, I come to talk of commonwealth affairs. As for your spiteful false objections, Prove them, and I lie open to the law; But God in mercy so deal with my soul As I in duty love my king and country! But, to the matter that we have in hand: I say, my sovereign, York is meetest man To be your regent in the realm of France. SUFFOLK Before we make election, give me leave To show some reason, of no little force, That York is most unmeet of any man. YORK I'll tell thee, Suffolk, why I am unmeet: First, for I cannot flatter thee in pride; Next, if I be appointed for the place, My lord of Somerset will keep me here Without discharge, money, or furniture Till France be won into the Dauphin's hands. Last time I danced attendance on his will Till Paris was besieged, famished, and lost. WARWICK That can I witness, and a fouler fact Did never traitor in the land commit. SUFFOLK Peace, headstrong Warwick! WARWICK Image of pride, why should I hold my peace? [Enter Horner, the Armorer, and his Man Peter, under guard.] SUFFOLK Because here is a man accused of treason. Pray God the Duke of York excuse himself! YORK Doth anyone accuse York for a traitor? KING HENRY What mean'st thou, Suffolk? Tell me, what are these? SUFFOLK Please it your Majesty, this is the man That doth accuse his master of high treason. His words were these: that Richard, Duke of York, Was rightful heir unto the English crown, And that your Majesty was an usurper. KING HENRY Say, man, were these thy words? HORNER An 't shall please your Majesty, I never said nor thought any such matter. God is my witness, I am falsely accused by the villain. PETER By these ten bones, my lords, he did speak them to me in the garret one night as we were scouring my lord of York's armor. YORK, [to Horner] Base dunghill villain and mechanical, I'll have thy head for this thy traitor's speech!-- I do beseech your royal Majesty, Let him have all the rigor of the law. HORNER Alas, my lord, hang me if ever I spake the words. My accuser is my prentice; and when I did correct him for his fault the other day, he did vow upon his knees he would be even with me. I have good witness of this. Therefore I beseech your Majesty, do not cast away an honest man for a villain's accusation! KING HENRY Uncle, what shall we say to this in law? GLOUCESTER This doom, my lord, if I may judge: Let Somerset be regent o'er the French, Because in York this breeds suspicion; And let these have a day appointed them For single combat in convenient place, For he hath witness of his servant's malice. This is the law, and this Duke Humphrey's doom. SOMERSET I humbly thank your royal Majesty. HORNER And I accept the combat willingly. PETER Alas, my lord, I cannot fight; for God's sake pity my case! The spite of man prevaileth against me. O Lord, have mercy upon me! I shall never be able to fight a blow. O Lord, my heart! GLOUCESTER Sirrah, or you must fight or else be hanged. KING HENRY Away with them to prison; and the day of combat shall be the last of the next month.-- Come, Somerset, we'll see thee sent away. [Flourish. They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter the Witch Margery Jourdain, the two Priests Hume and Southwell, and Bolingbroke, a conjurer.] HUME Come, my masters. The Duchess, I tell you, expects performance of your promises. BOLINGBROKE Master Hume, we are therefore provided. Will her Ladyship behold and hear our exorcisms? HUME Ay, what else? Fear you not her courage. BOLINGBROKE I have heard her reported to be a woman of an invincible spirit. But it shall be convenient, Master Hume, that you be by her aloft while we be busy below; and so, I pray you, go, in God's name, and leave us. [Hume exits.] Mother Jourdain, be you prostrate and grovel on the earth. [She lies face downward.] John Southwell, read you; and let us to our work. [Enter Eleanor, Duchess of Gloucester, with Hume, aloft.] DUCHESS Well said, my masters, and welcome all. To this gear, the sooner the better. BOLINGBROKE Patience, good lady. Wizards know their times. Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night, The time of night when Troy was set on fire, The time when screech owls cry and bandogs howl, And spirits walk, and ghosts break up their graves-- That time best fits the work we have in hand. Madam, sit you, and fear not. Whom we raise We will make fast within a hallowed verge. [Here they do the ceremonies belonging, and make the circle. Bolingbroke or Southwell reads "Conjuro te, etc." It thunders and lightens terribly; then the Spirit riseth.] SPIRIT Adsum. JOURDAIN Asmath, By the eternal God, whose name and power Thou tremblest at, answer that I shall ask, For till thou speak, thou shalt not pass from hence. SPIRIT Ask what thou wilt. That I had said and done! BOLINGBROKE, [reading from a paper, while Southwell writes] First of the King: What shall of him become? SPIRIT The duke yet lives that Henry shall depose, But him outlive and die a violent death. BOLINGBROKE, [reads] What fates await the Duke of Suffolk? SPIRIT By water shall he die and take his end. BOLINGBROKE [reads] What shall befall the Duke of Somerset? SPIRIT Let him shun castles. Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains Than where castles mounted stand. Have done, for more I hardly can endure. BOLINGBROKE Descend to darkness and the burning lake! False fiend, avoid! [Thunder and lightning. Spirit exits, descending.] [Enter the Duke of York and the Duke of Buckingham with their Guard and Sir Humphrey Stafford, and break in.] YORK Lay hands upon these traitors and their trash. [The Guard arrest Margery Jourdain and her accomplices and seize their papers.] [To Jourdain.] Beldam, I think we watched you at an inch. [To the Duchess, aloft.] What, madam, are you there? The King and commonweal Are deeply indebted for this piece of pains. My Lord Protector will, I doubt it not, See you well guerdoned for these good deserts. DUCHESS Not half so bad as thine to England's king, Injurious duke, that threatest where's no cause. BUCKINGHAM True, madam, none at all. What call you this? [He holds up the papers seized.] Away with them! Let them be clapped up close And kept asunder.--You, madam, shall with us.-- Stafford, take her to thee. [Stafford exits.] We'll see your trinkets here all forthcoming. All away! [Jourdain, Southwell, and Bolingbroke exit under guard, below; Duchess and Hume exit, under guard, aloft.] YORK Lord Buckingham, methinks you watched her well. A pretty plot, well chosen to build upon! Now, pray, my lord, let's see the devil's writ. [Buckingham hands him the papers.] What have we here? [(Reads.)] The duke yet lives that Henry shall depose, But him outlive and die a violent death. Why, this is just Aio te, Aeacida, Romanos vincere posse. Well, to the rest: [(Reads.)] Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suffolk? By water shall he die and take his end. What shall betide the Duke of Somerset? Let him shun castles; Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains Than where castles mounted stand. Come, come, my lord, these oracles Are hardly attained and hardly understood. The King is now in progress towards Saint Albans; With him the husband of this lovely lady. Thither goes these news as fast as horse can carry them-- A sorry breakfast for my Lord Protector. BUCKINGHAM Your Grace shall give me leave, my lord of York, To be the post, in hope of his reward. YORK At your pleasure, my good lord. [Buckingham exits.] Who's within there, ho! [Enter a Servingman.] Invite my lords of Salisbury and Warwick To sup with me tomorrow night. Away! [They exit.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, Gloucester the Lord Protector, Cardinal, and Suffolk, and Attendants, with Falconers hallowing.] QUEEN MARGARET Believe me, lords, for flying at the brook I saw not better sport these seven years' day. Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high, And, ten to one, old Joan had not gone out. KING HENRY, [to Gloucester] But what a point, my lord, your falcon made, And what a pitch she flew above the rest! To see how God in all his creatures works! Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high. SUFFOLK No marvel, an it like your Majesty, My Lord Protector's hawks do tower so well; They know their master loves to be aloft And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch. GLOUCESTER My lord, 'tis but a base ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar. CARDINAL I thought as much. He would be above the clouds. GLOUCESTER Ay, my Lord Cardinal, how think you by that? Were it not good your Grace could fly to heaven? KING HENRY The treasury of everlasting joy. CARDINAL, [to Gloucester] Thy heaven is on Earth; thine eyes and thoughts Beat on a crown, the treasure of thy heart. Pernicious Protector, dangerous peer, That smooth'st it so with king and commonweal! GLOUCESTER What, cardinal, is your priesthood grown peremptory? Tantaene animis caelestibus irae? Churchmen so hot? Good uncle, hide such malice. With such holiness, can you do it? SUFFOLK No malice, sir, no more than well becomes So good a quarrel and so bad a peer. GLOUCESTER As who, my lord? SUFFOLK Why, as you, my lord, An 't like your lordly Lord Protectorship. GLOUCESTER Why, Suffolk, England knows thine insolence. QUEEN MARGARET And thy ambition, Gloucester. KING HENRY I prithee peace, Good queen, and whet not on these furious peers, For blessed are the peacemakers on Earth. CARDINAL Let me be blessed for the peace I make Against this proud Protector with my sword! GLOUCESTER, [aside to Cardinal] Faith, holy uncle, would 't were come to that! CARDINAL, [aside to Gloucester] Marry, when thou dar'st! GLOUCESTER, [aside to Cardinal] Make up no factious numbers for the matter. In thine own person answer thy abuse. CARDINAL, [aside to Gloucester] Ay, where thou dar'st not peep. An if thou dar'st, This evening, on the east side of the grove. KING HENRY How now, my lords? CARDINAL Believe me, cousin Gloucester, Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly, We had had more sport. [(Aside to Gloucester.)] Come with thy two-hand sword. GLOUCESTER True, uncle. [(Aside to Cardinal.)] Are you advised? The east side of the grove. CARDINAL, [aside to Gloucester] I am with you. KING HENRY Why, how now, uncle Gloucester? GLOUCESTER Talking of hawking; nothing else, my lord. [(Aside to Cardinal.)] Now, by God's mother, priest, I'll shave your crown for this, Or all my fence shall fail. CARDINAL, [aside to Gloucester] Medice, teipsum; Protector, see to 't well; protect yourself. KING HENRY The winds grow high; so do your stomachs, lords. How irksome is this music to my heart! When such strings jar, what hope of harmony? I pray, my lords, let me compound this strife. [Enter a man from St. Albans crying "A miracle!"] GLOUCESTER What means this noise?-- Fellow, what miracle dost thou proclaim? MAN A miracle, a miracle! SUFFOLK Come to the King, and tell him what miracle. MAN Forsooth, a blind man at Saint Alban's shrine Within this half hour hath received his sight, A man that ne'er saw in his life before. KING HENRY Now, God be praised, that to believing souls Gives light in darkness, comfort in despair. [Enter the Mayor of Saint Albans, and his brethren, bearing the man Simpcox between two in a chair, followed by Simpcox's Wife and Others.] CARDINAL Here comes the townsmen on procession To present your Highness with the man. KING HENRY Great is his comfort in this earthly vale, Although by his sight his sin be multiplied. GLOUCESTER Stand by, my masters.--Bring him near the King. His Highness' pleasure is to talk with him. [The two bearers bring the chair forward.] KING HENRY Good fellow, tell us here the circumstance, That we for thee may glorify the Lord. What, hast thou been long blind and now restored? SIMPCOX Born blind, an 't please your Grace. WIFE Ay, indeed, was he. SUFFOLK What woman is this? WIFE His wife, an 't like your Worship. GLOUCESTER Hadst thou been his mother, thou couldst have better told. KING HENRY Where wert thou born? SIMPCOX At Berwick in the North, an 't like your Grace. KING HENRY Poor soul, God's goodness hath been great to thee. Let never day nor night unhallowed pass, But still remember what the Lord hath done. QUEEN MARGARET Tell me, good fellow, cam'st thou here by chance, Or of devotion to this holy shrine? SIMPCOX God knows, of pure devotion, being called A hundred times and oftener in my sleep By good Saint Alban, who said "Simon, come, Come, offer at my shrine, and I will help thee." WIFE Most true, forsooth, and many time and oft Myself have heard a voice to call him so. CARDINAL What, art thou lame? SIMPCOX Ay, God Almighty help me! SUFFOLK How cam'st thou so? SIMPCOX A fall off of a tree. WIFE A plum tree, master. GLOUCESTER How long hast thou been blind? SIMPCOX O, born so, master. GLOUCESTER What, and wouldst climb a tree? SIMPCOX But that in all my life, when I was a youth. WIFE Too true, and bought his climbing very dear. GLOUCESTER Mass, thou lov'dst plums well, that wouldst venture so. SIMPCOX Alas, good master, my wife desired some damsons, and made me climb, with danger of my life. GLOUCESTER A subtle knave, but yet it shall not serve.-- Let me see thine eyes. Wink now. Now open them. In my opinion, yet thou seest not well. SIMPCOX Yes, master, clear as day, I thank God and Saint Alban. GLOUCESTER Sayst thou me so? What color is this cloak of? SIMPCOX Red, master, red as blood. GLOUCESTER Why, that's well said. What color is my gown of? SIMPCOX Black, forsooth, coal-black as jet. KING HENRY Why, then, thou know'st what color jet is of. SUFFOLK And yet, I think, jet did he never see. GLOUCESTER But cloaks and gowns, before this day, a many. WIFE Never, before this day, in all his life. GLOUCESTER Tell me, sirrah, what's my name? SIMPCOX Alas, master, I know not. GLOUCESTER, [pointing] What's his name? SIMPCOX I know not. GLOUCESTER, [pointing to someone else] Nor his? SIMPCOX No, indeed, master. GLOUCESTER What's thine own name? SIMPCOX Sander Simpcox, an if it please you, master. GLOUCESTER Then, Sander, sit there, the lying'st knave in Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind, thou mightst as well have known all our names as thus to name the several colors we do wear. Sight may distinguish of colors; but suddenly to nominate them all, it is impossible.--My lords, Saint Alban here hath done a miracle; and would you not think his cunning to be great that could restore this cripple to his legs again? SIMPCOX O master, that you could! GLOUCESTER My masters of Saint Albans, have you not beadles in your town and things called whips? MAYOR Yes, my lord, if it please your Grace. GLOUCESTER Then send for one presently. MAYOR Sirrah, go fetch the beadle hither straight. [A man exits.] GLOUCESTER Now fetch me a stool hither by and by. [One brings a stool.] Now, sirrah, if you mean to save yourself from whipping, leap me over this stool, and run away. SIMPCOX Alas, master, I am not able to stand alone. You go about to torture me in vain. [Enter a Beadle with whips.] GLOUCESTER Well, sir, we must have you find your legs.--Sirrah beadle, whip him till he leap over that same stool. BEADLE I will, my lord.--Come on, sirrah, off with your doublet quickly. SIMPCOX Alas, master, what shall I do? I am not able to stand. [After the Beadle hath hit him once, he leaps over the stool and runs away; and they follow and cry "A miracle!"] KING HENRY O God, seest Thou this, and bearest so long? QUEEN MARGARET It made me laugh to see the villain run. GLOUCESTER, [to the Beadle] Follow the knave, and take this drab away. WIFE Alas, sir, we did it for pure need. GLOUCESTER Let them be whipped through every market town Till they come to Berwick, from whence they came. [The Beadle, Mayor, Wife, and the others from Saint Albans exit.] CARDINAL Duke Humphrey has done a miracle today. SUFFOLK True, made the lame to leap and fly away. GLOUCESTER But you have done more miracles than I. You made in a day, my lord, whole towns to fly. [Enter Buckingham.] KING HENRY What tidings with our cousin Buckingham? BUCKINGHAM Such as my heart doth tremble to unfold: A sort of naughty persons, lewdly bent, Under the countenance and confederacy Of Lady Eleanor, the Protector's wife, The ringleader and head of all this rout, Have practiced dangerously against your state, Dealing with witches and with conjurers, Whom we have apprehended in the fact, Raising up wicked spirits from under ground, Demanding of King Henry's life and death And other of your Highness' Privy Council, As more at large your Grace shall understand. CARDINAL And so, my Lord Protector, by this means Your lady is forthcoming yet at London. [Aside to Gloucester.] This news, I think, hath turned your weapon's edge; 'Tis like, my lord, you will not keep your hour. GLOUCESTER Ambitious churchman, leave to afflict my heart. Sorrow and grief have vanquished all my powers, And, vanquished as I am, I yield to thee, Or to the meanest groom. KING HENRY O God, what mischiefs work the wicked ones, Heaping confusion on their own heads thereby! QUEEN MARGARET Gloucester, see here the tainture of thy nest, And look thyself be faultless, thou wert best. GLOUCESTER Madam, for myself, to heaven I do appeal How I have loved my king and commonweal; And, for my wife, I know not how it stands. Sorry I am to hear what I have heard. Noble she is; but if she have forgot Honor and virtue, and conversed with such As, like to pitch, defile nobility, I banish her my bed and company And give her as a prey to law and shame That hath dishonored Gloucester's honest name. KING HENRY Well, for this night we will repose us here. Tomorrow toward London back again, To look into this business thoroughly, And call these foul offenders to their answers, And poise the cause in Justice' equal scales, Whose beam stands sure, whose rightful cause prevails. [Flourish. They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter York, Salisbury, and Warwick.] YORK Now, my good lords of Salisbury and Warwick, Our simple supper ended, give me leave, In this close walk, to satisfy myself In craving your opinion of my title, Which is infallible, to England's crown. SALISBURY My lord, I long to hear it at full. WARWICK Sweet York, begin; and if thy claim be good, The Nevilles are thy subjects to command. YORK Then thus: Edward the Third, my lords, had seven sons: The first, Edward the Black Prince, Prince of Wales; The second, William of Hatfield; and the third, Lionel, Duke of Clarence; next to whom Was John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster; The fifth was Edmund Langley, Duke of York; The sixth was Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester; William of Windsor was the seventh and last. Edward the Black Prince died before his father And left behind him Richard, his only son, Who, after Edward the Third's death, reigned as king Till Henry Bolingbroke, Duke of Lancaster, The eldest son and heir of John of Gaunt, Crowned by the name of Henry the Fourth, Seized on the realm, deposed the rightful king, Sent his poor queen to France, from whence she came, And him to Pomfret; where, as all you know, Harmless Richard was murdered traitorously. WARWICK Father, the Duke hath told the truth. Thus got the house of Lancaster the crown. YORK Which now they hold by force and not by right; For Richard, the first son's heir, being dead, The issue of the next son should have reigned. SALISBURY But William of Hatfield died without an heir. YORK The third son, Duke of Clarence, from whose line I claim the crown, had issue, Philippa, a daughter, Who married Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March. Edmund had issue, Roger, Earl of March; Roger had issue: Edmund, Anne, and Eleanor. SALISBURY This Edmund, in the reign of Bolingbroke, As I have read, laid claim unto the crown And, but for Owen Glendower, had been king, Who kept him in captivity till he died. But to the rest. YORK His eldest sister, Anne, My mother, being heir unto the crown, Married Richard, Earl of Cambridge, who was son To Edmund Langley, Edward the Third's fifth son. By her I claim the kingdom. She was heir To Roger, Earl of March, who was the son Of Edmund Mortimer, who married Philippa, Sole daughter unto Lionel, Duke of Clarence. So, if the issue of the elder son Succeed before the younger, I am king. WARWICK What plain proceedings is more plain than this? Henry doth claim the crown from John of Gaunt, The fourth son; York claims it from the third. Till Lionel's issue fails, his should not reign. It fails not yet, but flourishes in thee And in thy sons, fair slips of such a stock. Then, father Salisbury, kneel we together, And in this private plot be we the first That shall salute our rightful sovereign With honor of his birthright to the crown. SALISBURY, WARWICK, [kneeling] Long live our sovereign Richard, England's king! YORK We thank you, lords. [They rise.] But I am not your king Till I be crowned, and that my sword be stained With heart-blood of the house of Lancaster; And that's not suddenly to be performed, But with advice and silent secrecy. Do you as I do in these dangerous days: Wink at the Duke of Suffolk's insolence, At Beaufort's pride, at Somerset's ambition, At Buckingham, and all the crew of them, Till they have snared the shepherd of the flock, That virtuous prince, the good Duke Humphrey. 'Tis that they seek; and they, in seeking that, Shall find their deaths, if York can prophesy. SALISBURY My lord, break we off. We know your mind at full. WARWICK My heart assures me that the Earl of Warwick Shall one day make the Duke of York a king. YORK And, Neville, this I do assure myself: Richard shall live to make the Earl of Warwick The greatest man in England but the King. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Sound trumpets. Enter King Henry and State (Queen Margaret, Gloucester, York, Salisbury, Suffolk, and Others) with Guard, to banish the Duchess of Gloucester, who is accompanied by Margery Jourdain, Southwell, Hume, and Bolingbroke, all guarded.] KING HENRY Stand forth, Dame Eleanor Cobham, Gloucester's wife. In sight of God and us, your guilt is great. Receive the sentence of the law for sins Such as by God's book are adjudged to death. [To Jourdain, Southwell, Hume, and Bolingbroke.] You four, from hence to prison back again; From thence unto the place of execution: The witch in Smithfield shall be burnt to ashes, And you three shall be strangled on the gallows. [To Duchess] You, madam, for you are more nobly born, Despoiled of your honor in your life, Shall, after three days' open penance done, Live in your country here in banishment With Sir John Stanley in the Isle of Man. DUCHESS Welcome is banishment. Welcome were my death. GLOUCESTER Eleanor, the law, thou seest, hath judged thee. I cannot justify whom the law condemns. [Duchess and the other prisoners exit under guard.] Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief. Ah, Humphrey, this dishonor in thine age Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground.-- I beseech your Majesty give me leave to go; Sorrow would solace, and mine age would ease. KING HENRY Stay, Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester. Ere thou go, Give up thy staff. Henry will to himself Protector be; and God shall be my hope, My stay, my guide, and lantern to my feet. And go in peace, Humphrey, no less beloved Than when thou wert Protector to thy king. QUEEN MARGARET I see no reason why a king of years Should be to be protected like a child. God and King Henry govern England's realm!-- Give up your staff, sir, and the King his realm. GLOUCESTER My staff?--Here, noble Henry, is my staff. [He puts down his staff before Henry.] As willingly do I the same resign As e'er thy father Henry made it mine; And even as willingly at thy feet I leave it As others would ambitiously receive it. Farewell, good king. When I am dead and gone, May honorable peace attend thy throne. [Gloucester exits.] [Henry picks up the staff.] QUEEN MARGARET Why, now is Henry king and Margaret queen, And Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, scarce himself, That bears so shrewd a maim. Two pulls at once: His lady banished and a limb lopped off. This staff of honor raught, there let it stand Where it best fits to be, in Henry's hand. SUFFOLK Thus droops this lofty pine and hangs his sprays; Thus Eleanor's pride dies in her youngest days. YORK Lords, let him go.--Please it your Majesty, This is the day appointed for the combat, And ready are the appellant and defendant-- The armorer and his man--to enter the lists, So please your Highness to behold the fight. QUEEN MARGARET Ay, good my lord, for purposely therefor Left I the court to see this quarrel tried. KING HENRY I' God's name, see the lists and all things fit. Here let them end it, and God defend the right! YORK I never saw a fellow worse bestead Or more afraid to fight than is the appellant, The servant of this armorer, my lords. [Enter at one door the Armorer Horner and his Neighbors, drinking to him so much that he is drunk; and he enters with a Drum before him and his staff with a sandbag fastened to it; and at the other door his man Peter, with a Drum and sandbag, and Prentices drinking to him.] FIRST NEIGHBOR Here, neighbor Horner, I drink to you in a cup of sack; and fear not, neighbor, you shall do well enough. SECOND NEIGHBOR And here, neighbor, here's a cup of charneco. THIRD NEIGHBOR And here's a pot of good double beer, neighbor. Drink, and fear not your man. HORNER Let it come, i' faith, and I'll pledge you all. And a fig for Peter! [They drink.] FIRST PRENTICE Here, Peter, I drink to thee, and be not afraid. SECOND PRENTICE Be merry, Peter, and fear not thy master. Fight for credit of the prentices. PETER I thank you all. Drink, and pray for me, I pray you, for I think I have taken my last draft in this world. Here, Robin, an if I die, I give thee my apron.--And, Will, thou shalt have my hammer.-- And here, Tom, take all the money that I have. [He distributes his possessions.] O Lord, bless me, I pray God, for I am never able to deal with my master. He hath learnt so much fence already. SALISBURY Come, leave your drinking, and fall to blows. Sirrah, what's thy name? PETER Peter, forsooth. SALISBURY Peter? What more? PETER Thump. SALISBURY Thump? Then see thou thump thy master well. HORNER Masters, I am come hither, as it were, upon my man's instigation, to prove him a knave and myself an honest man; and touching the Duke of York, I will take my death I never meant him any ill, nor the King, nor the Queen.--And therefore, Peter, have at thee with a downright blow! YORK Dispatch. This knave's tongue begins to double. Sound, trumpets. Alarum to the combatants! [Trumpet sounds.] [They fight, and Peter strikes him down.] HORNER Hold, Peter, hold! I confess, I confess treason. [He dies.] YORK Take away his weapon.--Fellow, thank God and the good wine in thy master's way. PETER O God, have I overcome mine enemies in this presence? O Peter, thou hast prevailed in right! KING HENRY Go, take hence that traitor from our sight; For by his death we do perceive his guilt. And God in justice hath revealed to us The truth and innocence of this poor fellow, Which he had thought to have murdered wrongfully.-- Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward. [Sound a flourish. They exit, bearing Horner's body.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Duke Humphrey of Gloucester and his Men, in mourning cloaks.] GLOUCESTER Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud, And after summer evermore succeeds Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold; So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet. Sirs, what's o'clock? SERVANT Ten, my lord. GLOUCESTER Ten is the hour that was appointed me To watch the coming of my punished duchess. Uneath may she endure the flinty streets, To tread them with her tender-feeling feet. Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind abrook The abject people gazing on thy face With envious looks laughing at thy shame, That erst did follow thy proud chariot wheels When thou didst ride in triumph through the streets. But, soft! I think she comes, and I'll prepare My tearstained eyes to see her miseries. [Enter the Duchess of Gloucester, barefoot, and in a white sheet, with papers pinned to her back and a taper burning in her hand, with Sir John Stanley, the Sheriff, and Officers.] SERVANT So please your Grace, we'll take her from the Sheriff. GLOUCESTER No, stir not for your lives. Let her pass by. DUCHESS Come you, my lord, to see my open shame? Now thou dost penance too. Look how they gaze! See how the giddy multitude do point, And nod their heads, and throw their eyes on thee. Ah, Gloucester, hide thee from their hateful looks, And, in thy closet pent up, rue my shame, And ban thine enemies, both mine and thine. GLOUCESTER Be patient, gentle Nell. Forget this grief. DUCHESS Ah, Gloucester, teach me to forget myself! For whilst I think I am thy married wife And thou a prince, Protector of this land, Methinks I should not thus be led along, Mailed up in shame, with papers on my back, And followed with a rabble that rejoice To see my tears and hear my deep-fet groans. The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet, And when I start, the envious people laugh And bid me be advised how I tread. Ah, Humphrey, can I bear this shameful yoke? Trowest thou that e'er I'll look upon the world Or count them happy that enjoys the sun? No, dark shall be my light, and night my day. To think upon my pomp shall be my hell. Sometimes I'll say I am Duke Humphrey's wife And he a prince and ruler of the land; Yet so he ruled and such a prince he was As he stood by whilst I, his forlorn duchess, Was made a wonder and a pointing-stock To every idle rascal follower. But be thou mild, and blush not at my shame, Nor stir at nothing till the ax of death Hang over thee, as, sure, it shortly will. For Suffolk, he that can do all in all With her that hateth thee and hates us all, And York and impious Beaufort, that false priest, Have all limed bushes to betray thy wings; And fly thou how thou canst, they'll tangle thee. But fear not thou until thy foot be snared, Nor never seek prevention of thy foes. GLOUCESTER Ah, Nell, forbear. Thou aimest all awry. I must offend before I be attainted; And had I twenty times so many foes, And each of them had twenty times their power, All these could not procure me any scathe So long as I am loyal, true, and crimeless. Wouldst have me rescue thee from this reproach? Why, yet thy scandal were not wiped away, But I in danger for the breach of law. Thy greatest help is quiet, gentle Nell. I pray thee, sort thy heart to patience; These few days' wonder will be quickly worn. [Enter a Herald.] HERALD I summon your Grace to his Majesty's Parliament Holden at Bury the first of this next month. GLOUCESTER And my consent ne'er asked herein before? This is close dealing. Well, I will be there. [Herald exits.] My Nell, I take my leave.--And, master sheriff, Let not her penance exceed the King's commission. SHERIFF An 't please your Grace, here my commission stays, And Sir John Stanley is appointed now To take her with him to the Isle of Man. GLOUCESTER Must you, Sir John, protect my lady here? STANLEY So am I given in charge, may 't please your Grace. GLOUCESTER Entreat her not the worse in that I pray You use her well. The world may laugh again, And I may live to do you kindness, if You do it her. And so, Sir John, farewell. DUCHESS What, gone, my lord, and bid me not farewell? GLOUCESTER Witness my tears. I cannot stay to speak. [Gloucester exits with his Men.] DUCHESS Art thou gone too? All comfort go with thee, For none abides with me. My joy is death-- Death, at whose name I oft have been afeard, Because I wished this world's eternity.-- Stanley, I prithee, go, and take me hence. I care not whither, for I beg no favor; Only convey me where thou art commanded. STANLEY Why, madam, that is to the Isle of Man, There to be used according to your state. DUCHESS That's bad enough, for I am but reproach. And shall I, then, be used reproachfully? STANLEY Like to a duchess and Duke Humphrey's lady; According to that state you shall be used. DUCHESS Sheriff, farewell, and better than I fare, Although thou hast been conduct of my shame. SHERIFF It is my office; and, madam, pardon me. DUCHESS Ay, ay, farewell. Thy office is discharged. [The Sheriff and Officers exit.] Come, Stanley, shall we go? STANLEY Madam, your penance done, throw off this sheet, And go we to attire you for our journey. DUCHESS My shame will not be shifted with my sheet. No, it will hang upon my richest robes And show itself, attire me how I can. Go, lead the way. I long to see my prison. [They exit.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Sound a sennet. Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, Cardinal, Suffolk, York, Buckingham, Salisbury, and Warwick, and Others to the Parliament.] KING HENRY I muse my lord of Gloucester is not come. 'Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man, Whate'er occasion keeps him from us now. QUEEN MARGARET Can you not see, or will you not observe, The strangeness of his altered countenance? With what a majesty he bears himself, How insolent of late he is become, How proud, how peremptory, and unlike himself? We know the time since he was mild and affable; And if we did but glance a far-off look, Immediately he was upon his knee, That all the court admired him for submission. But meet him now, and, be it in the morn When everyone will give the time of day, He knits his brow and shows an angry eye And passeth by with stiff unbowed knee, Disdaining duty that to us belongs. Small curs are not regarded when they grin, But great men tremble when the lion roars-- And Humphrey is no little man in England. First, note that he is near you in descent, And, should you fall, he is the next will mount. Meseemeth then it is no policy, Respecting what a rancorous mind he bears And his advantage following your decease, That he should come about your royal person Or be admitted to your Highness' Council. By flattery hath he won the Commons' hearts; And when he please to make commotion, 'Tis to be feared they all will follow him. Now 'tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted; Suffer them now, and they'll o'ergrow the garden And choke the herbs for want of husbandry. The reverent care I bear unto my lord Made me collect these dangers in the Duke. If it be fond, call it a woman's fear, Which fear, if better reasons can supplant, I will subscribe and say I wronged the Duke. My lords of Suffolk, Buckingham, and York, Reprove my allegation if you can, Or else conclude my words effectual. SUFFOLK Well hath your Highness seen into this duke, And, had I first been put to speak my mind, I think I should have told your Grace's tale. The Duchess by his subornation, Upon my life, began her devilish practices; Or if he were not privy to those faults, Yet, by reputing of his high descent-- As next the King he was successive heir, And such high vaunts of his nobility-- Did instigate the bedlam brainsick duchess By wicked means to frame our sovereign's fall. Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep, And in his simple show he harbors treason. The fox barks not when he would steal the lamb. No, no, my sovereign, Gloucester is a man Unsounded yet and full of deep deceit. CARDINAL Did he not, contrary to form of law, Devise strange deaths for small offenses done? YORK And did he not, in his protectorship, Levy great sums of money through the realm For soldiers' pay in France, and never sent it, By means whereof the towns each day revolted? BUCKINGHAM Tut, these are petty faults to faults unknown, Which time will bring to light in smooth Duke Humphrey. KING HENRY My lords, at once: the care you have of us To mow down thorns that would annoy our foot Is worthy praise; but, shall I speak my conscience, Our kinsman Gloucester is as innocent From meaning treason to our royal person As is the sucking lamb or harmless dove. The Duke is virtuous, mild, and too well given To dream on evil or to work my downfall. QUEEN MARGARET Ah, what's more dangerous than this fond affiance? Seems he a dove? His feathers are but borrowed, For he's disposed as the hateful raven. Is he a lamb? His skin is surely lent him, For he's inclined as is the ravenous wolves. Who cannot steal a shape that means deceit? Take heed, my lord; the welfare of us all Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man. [Enter Somerset.] SOMERSET All health unto my gracious sovereign! KING HENRY Welcome, Lord Somerset. What news from France? SOMERSET That all your interest in those territories Is utterly bereft you. All is lost. KING HENRY Cold news, Lord Somerset; but God's will be done. YORK, [aside] Cold news for me, for I had hope of France As firmly as I hope for fertile England. Thus are my blossoms blasted in the bud, And caterpillars eat my leaves away. But I will remedy this gear ere long, Or sell my title for a glorious grave. [Enter Gloucester.] GLOUCESTER All happiness unto my lord the King! Pardon, my liege, that I have stayed so long. SUFFOLK Nay, Gloucester, know that thou art come too soon, Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art. I do arrest thee of high treason here. GLOUCESTER Well, Suffolk, thou shalt not see me blush Nor change my countenance for this arrest. A heart unspotted is not easily daunted. The purest spring is not so free from mud As I am clear from treason to my sovereign. Who can accuse me? Wherein am I guilty? YORK 'Tis thought, my lord, that you took bribes of France And, being Protector, stayed the soldiers' pay, By means whereof his Highness hath lost France. GLOUCESTER Is it but thought so? What are they that think it? I never robbed the soldiers of their pay Nor ever had one penny bribe from France. So help me God as I have watched the night-- Ay, night by night--in studying good for England! That doit that e'er I wrested from the King, Or any groat I hoarded to my use, Be brought against me at my trial day! No, many a pound of mine own proper store, Because I would not tax the needy Commons, Have I dispursed to the garrisons And never asked for restitution. CARDINAL It serves you well, my lord, to say so much. GLOUCESTER I say no more than truth, so help me God. YORK In your protectorship, you did devise Strange tortures for offenders, never heard of, That England was defamed by tyranny. GLOUCESTER Why, 'tis well known that whiles I was Protector, Pity was all the fault that was in me; For I should melt at an offender's tears, And lowly words were ransom for their fault. Unless it were a bloody murderer Or foul felonious thief that fleeced poor passengers, I never gave them condign punishment. Murder indeed, that bloody sin, I tortured Above the felon or what trespass else. SUFFOLK My lord, these faults are easy, quickly answered; But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge Whereof you cannot easily purge yourself. I do arrest you in his Highness' name, And here commit you to my Lord Cardinal To keep until your further time of trial. KING HENRY My lord of Gloucester, 'tis my special hope That you will clear yourself from all suspense. My conscience tells me you are innocent. GLOUCESTER Ah, gracious lord, these days are dangerous. Virtue is choked with foul ambition, And charity chased hence by rancor's hand; Foul subornation is predominant, And equity exiled your Highness' land. I know their complot is to have my life; And if my death might make this island happy And prove the period of their tyranny, I would expend it with all willingness. But mine is made the prologue to their play; For thousands more, that yet suspect no peril, Will not conclude their plotted tragedy. Beaufort's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's malice, And Suffolk's cloudy brow his stormy hate; Sharp Buckingham unburdens with his tongue The envious load that lies upon his heart; And dogged York, that reaches at the moon, Whose overweening arm I have plucked back, By false accuse doth level at my life.-- And you, my sovereign lady, with the rest, Causeless have laid disgraces on my head And with your best endeavor have stirred up My liefest liege to be mine enemy. Ay, all of you have laid your heads together-- Myself had notice of your conventicles-- And all to make away my guiltless life. I shall not want false witness to condemn me Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt. The ancient proverb will be well effected: "A staff is quickly found to beat a dog." CARDINAL My liege, his railing is intolerable. If those that care to keep your royal person From treason's secret knife and traitor's rage Be thus upbraided, chid, and rated at, And the offender granted scope of speech, 'Twill make them cool in zeal unto your Grace. SUFFOLK Hath he not twit our sovereign lady here With ignominious words, though clerkly couched, As if she had suborned some to swear False allegations to o'erthrow his state? QUEEN MARGARET But I can give the loser leave to chide. GLOUCESTER Far truer spoke than meant. I lose, indeed; Beshrew the winners, for they played me false! And well such losers may have leave to speak. BUCKINGHAM He'll wrest the sense and hold us here all day. Lord Cardinal, he is your prisoner. CARDINAL, [to his Men] Sirs, take away the Duke, and guard him sure. GLOUCESTER Ah, thus King Henry throws away his crutch Before his legs be firm to bear his body.-- Thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side, And wolves are gnarling who shall gnaw thee first. Ah, that my fear were false; ah, that it were! For, good King Henry, thy decay I fear. [Gloucester exits, guarded by Cardinal's Men.] KING HENRY My lords, what to your wisdoms seemeth best Do, or undo, as if ourself were here. QUEEN MARGARET What, will your Highness leave the Parliament? KING HENRY Ay, Margaret. My heart is drowned with grief, Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes, My body round engirt with misery; For what's more miserable than discontent? Ah, uncle Humphrey, in thy face I see The map of honor, truth, and loyalty; And yet, good Humphrey, is the hour to come That e'er I proved thee false or feared thy faith. What louring star now envies thy estate That these great lords and Margaret our queen Do seek subversion of thy harmless life? Thou never didst them wrong nor no man wrong. And as the butcher takes away the calf And binds the wretch and beats it when it strains, Bearing it to the bloody slaughterhouse, Even so remorseless have they borne him hence; And as the dam runs lowing up and down, Looking the way her harmless young one went, And can do naught but wail her darling's loss, Even so myself bewails good Gloucester's case With sad unhelpful tears, and with dimmed eyes Look after him and cannot do him good, So mighty are his vowed enemies. His fortunes I will weep and, 'twixt each groan, Say "Who's a traitor, Gloucester he is none." [He exits, with Buckingham, Salisbury, Warwick, and Others. Somerset steps aside.] QUEEN MARGARET, [to Cardinal, Suffolk, and York] Free lords, cold snow melts with the sun's hot beams. Henry my lord is cold in great affairs, Too full of foolish pity; and Gloucester's show Beguiles him, as the mournful crocodile With sorrow snares relenting passengers, Or as the snake, rolled in a flow'ring bank, With shining checkered slough, doth sting a child That for the beauty thinks it excellent. Believe me, lords, were none more wise than I-- And yet herein I judge mine own wit good-- This Gloucester should be quickly rid the world, To rid us from the fear we have of him. CARDINAL That he should die is worthy policy, But yet we want a color for his death. 'Tis meet he be condemned by course of law. SUFFOLK But, in my mind, that were no policy. The King will labor still to save his life, The Commons haply rise to save his life, And yet we have but trivial argument, More than mistrust, that shows him worthy death. YORK So that, by this, you would not have him die. SUFFOLK Ah, York, no man alive so fain as I! YORK 'Tis York that hath more reason for his death. But, my Lord Cardinal, and you, my lord of Suffolk, Say as you think, and speak it from your souls: Were 't not all one an empty eagle were set To guard the chicken from a hungry kite As place Duke Humphrey for the King's Protector? QUEEN MARGARET So the poor chicken should be sure of death. SUFFOLK Madam, 'tis true; and were 't not madness then To make the fox surveyor of the fold-- Who, being accused a crafty murderer, His guilt should be but idly posted over Because his purpose is not executed? No, let him die in that he is a fox, By nature proved an enemy to the flock, Before his chaps be stained with crimson blood, As Humphrey, proved by reasons, to my liege. And do not stand on quillets how to slay him-- Be it by gins, by snares, by subtlety, Sleeping or waking. 'Tis no matter how, So he be dead; for that is good deceit Which mates him first that first intends deceit. QUEEN MARGARET Thrice noble Suffolk, 'tis resolutely spoke. SUFFOLK Not resolute, except so much were done, For things are often spoke and seldom meant; But that my heart accordeth with my tongue, Seeing the deed is meritorious, And to preserve my sovereign from his foe, Say but the word and I will be his priest. CARDINAL But I would have him dead, my lord of Suffolk, Ere you can take due orders for a priest. Say you consent and censure well the deed, And I'll provide his executioner. I tender so the safety of my liege. SUFFOLK Here is my hand. The deed is worthy doing. QUEEN MARGARET And so say I. YORK And I. And now we three have spoke it, It skills not greatly who impugns our doom. [Enter a Post.] POST Great lords, from Ireland am I come amain To signify that rebels there are up And put the Englishmen unto the sword. Send succors, lords, and stop the rage betime, Before the wound do grow uncurable; For, being green, there is great hope of help. [He exits.] CARDINAL A breach that craves a quick expedient stop! What counsel give you in this weighty cause? YORK That Somerset be sent as regent thither. 'Tis meet that lucky ruler be employed-- Witness the fortune he hath had in France. SOMERSET, [advancing] If York, with all his far-fet policy, Had been the regent there instead of me, He never would have stayed in France so long. YORK No, not to lose it all, as thou hast done. I rather would have lost my life betimes Than bring a burden of dishonor home By staying there so long till all were lost. Show me one scar charactered on thy skin. Men's flesh preserved so whole do seldom win. QUEEN MARGARET Nay, then, this spark will prove a raging fire If wind and fuel be brought to feed it with.-- No more, good York.--Sweet Somerset, be still.-- Thy fortune, York, hadst thou been regent there, Might happily have proved far worse than his. YORK What, worse than naught? Nay, then, a shame take all! SOMERSET And, in the number, thee that wishest shame! CARDINAL My lord of York, try what your fortune is. Th' uncivil kerns of Ireland are in arms And temper clay with blood of Englishmen. To Ireland will you lead a band of men, Collected choicely, from each county some, And try your hap against the Irishmen? YORK I will, my lord, so please his Majesty. SUFFOLK Why, our authority is his consent, And what we do establish he confirms. Then, noble York, take thou this task in hand. YORK I am content. Provide me soldiers, lords, Whiles I take order for mine own affairs. SUFFOLK A charge, Lord York, that I will see performed. But now return we to the false Duke Humphrey. CARDINAL No more of him, for I will deal with him, That henceforth he shall trouble us no more. And so break off; the day is almost spent. Lord Suffolk, you and I must talk of that event. YORK My lord of Suffolk, within fourteen days At Bristow I expect my soldiers, For there I'll ship them all for Ireland. SUFFOLK I'll see it truly done, my lord of York. [All but York exit.] YORK Now, York, or never, steel thy fearful thoughts And change misdoubt to resolution. Be that thou hop'st to be, or what thou art Resign to death; it is not worth th' enjoying. Let pale-faced fear keep with the mean-born man And find no harbor in a royal heart. Faster than springtime showers comes thought on thought, And not a thought but thinks on dignity. My brain, more busy than the laboring spider, Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies. Well, nobles, well, 'tis politicly done To send me packing with an host of men. I fear me you but warm the starved snake, Who, cherished in your breasts, will sting your hearts. 'Twas men I lacked, and you will give them me; I take it kindly. Yet be well assured You put sharp weapons in a madman's hands. Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mighty band, I will stir up in England some black storm Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven or hell; And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage Until the golden circuit on my head, Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams, Do calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw. And for a minister of my intent, I have seduced a headstrong Kentishman, John Cade of Ashford, To make commotion, as full well he can, Under the title of John Mortimer. In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade Oppose himself against a troop of kerns, And fought so long till that his thighs with darts Were almost like a sharp-quilled porpentine; And in the end being rescued, I have seen Him caper upright like a wild Morisco, Shaking the bloody darts as he his bells. Full often, like a shag-haired crafty kern, Hath he conversed with the enemy, And undiscovered come to me again And given me notice of their villainies. This devil here shall be my substitute; For that John Mortimer, which now is dead, In face, in gait, in speech he doth resemble. By this, I shall perceive the Commons' mind, How they affect the house and claim of York. Say he be taken, racked, and tortured, I know no pain they can inflict upon him Will make him say I moved him to those arms. Say that he thrive, as 'tis great like he will, Why then from Ireland come I with my strength And reap the harvest which that rascal sowed. For, Humphrey being dead, as he shall be, And Henry put apart, the next for me. [He exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter two or three running over the stage, from the murder of Duke Humphrey.] FIRST MURDERER Run to my lord of Suffolk. Let him know We have dispatched the Duke as he commanded. SECOND MURDERER O, that it were to do! What have we done? Didst ever hear a man so penitent? [Enter Suffolk.] FIRST MURDERER Here comes my lord. SUFFOLK Now, sirs, have you dispatched this thing? FIRST MURDERER Ay, my good lord, he's dead. SUFFOLK Why, that's well said. Go, get you to my house; I will reward you for this venturous deed. The King and all the peers are here at hand. Have you laid fair the bed? Is all things well, According as I gave directions? FIRST MURDERER 'Tis, my good lord. SUFFOLK Away, be gone. [The Murderers exit.] [Sound trumpets. Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, Cardinal, Somerset, with Attendants.] KING HENRY Go, call our uncle to our presence straight. Say we intend to try his Grace today If he be guilty, as 'tis published. SUFFOLK I'll call him presently, my noble lord. [He exits.] KING HENRY Lords, take your places; and, I pray you all, Proceed no straiter 'gainst our uncle Gloucester Than from true evidence of good esteem He be approved in practice culpable. QUEEN MARGARET God forbid any malice should prevail That faultless may condemn a nobleman! Pray God he may acquit him of suspicion! KING HENRY I thank thee, Meg. These words content me much. [Enter Suffolk.] How now? Why look'st thou pale? Why tremblest thou? Where is our uncle? What's the matter, Suffolk? SUFFOLK Dead in his bed, my lord. Gloucester is dead. QUEEN MARGARET Marry, God forfend! CARDINAL God's secret judgment. I did dream tonight The Duke was dumb and could not speak a word. [King Henry swoons.] QUEEN MARGARET How fares my lord? Help, lords, the King is dead! SOMERSET Rear up his body. Wring him by the nose. QUEEN MARGARET Run, go, help, help! O Henry, ope thine eyes! [King Henry stirs.] SUFFOLK He doth revive again. Madam, be patient. KING HENRY O heavenly God! QUEEN MARGARET How fares my gracious lord? SUFFOLK Comfort, my sovereign! Gracious Henry, comfort! KING HENRY What, doth my lord of Suffolk comfort me? Came he right now to sing a raven's note, Whose dismal tune bereft my vital powers, And thinks he that the chirping of a wren, By crying comfort from a hollow breast, Can chase away the first-conceived sound? Hide not thy poison with such sugared words. Lay not thy hands on me. Forbear, I say! Their touch affrights me as a serpent's sting. Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight! Upon thy eyeballs, murderous Tyranny Sits in grim majesty to fright the world. Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wounding. Yet do not go away. Come, basilisk, And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight; For in the shade of death I shall find joy, In life but double death, now Gloucester's dead. QUEEN MARGARET Why do you rate my lord of Suffolk thus? Although the Duke was enemy to him, Yet he most Christian-like laments his death. And for myself, foe as he was to me, Might liquid tears or heart-offending groans Or blood-consuming sighs recall his life, I would be blind with weeping, sick with groans, Look pale as primrose with blood-drinking sighs, And all to have the noble duke alive. What know I how the world may deem of me? For it is known we were but hollow friends. It may be judged I made the Duke away; So shall my name with slander's tongue be wounded And princes' courts be filled with my reproach. This get I by his death. Ay me, unhappy, To be a queen and crowned with infamy! KING HENRY Ah, woe is me for Gloucester, wretched man! QUEEN MARGARET Be woe for me, more wretched than he is. What, dost thou turn away and hide thy face? I am no loathsome leper. Look on me. What, art thou, like the adder, waxen deaf? Be poisonous too, and kill thy forlorn queen. Is all thy comfort shut in Gloucester's tomb? Why, then, Dame Margaret was ne'er thy joy. Erect his statue and worship it, And make my image but an alehouse sign. Was I for this nigh-wracked upon the sea And twice by awkward wind from England's bank Drove back again unto my native clime? What boded this, but well forewarning wind Did seem to say "Seek not a scorpion's nest, Nor set no footing on this unkind shore"? What did I then but cursed the gentle gusts And he that loosed them forth their brazen caves And bid them blow towards England's blessed shore Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock? Yet Aeolus would not be a murderer, But left that hateful office unto thee. The pretty-vaulting sea refused to drown me, Knowing that thou wouldst have me drowned on shore With tears as salt as sea, through thy unkindness. The splitting rocks cow'red in the sinking sands And would not dash me with their ragged sides Because thy flinty heart, more hard than they, Might in thy palace perish Margaret. As far as I could ken thy chalky cliffs, When from thy shore the tempest beat us back, I stood upon the hatches in the storm, And when the dusky sky began to rob My earnest-gaping sight of thy land's view, I took a costly jewel from my neck-- A heart it was, bound in with diamonds-- And threw it towards thy land. The sea received it, And so I wished thy body might my heart. And even with this I lost fair England's view, And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart, And called them blind and dusky spectacles For losing ken of Albion's wished coast. How often have I tempted Suffolk's tongue, The agent of thy foul inconstancy, To sit and watch me, as Ascanius did When he to madding Dido would unfold His father's acts commenced in burning Troy! Am I not witched like her, or thou not false like him? Ay me, I can no more. Die, Margaret, For Henry weeps that thou dost live so long. [Noise within. Enter Warwick and Salisbury, and many Commons.] WARWICK It is reported, mighty sovereign, That good Duke Humphrey traitorously is murdered By Suffolk and the Cardinal Beaufort's means. The Commons, like an angry hive of bees That want their leader, scatter up and down And care not who they sting in his revenge. Myself have calmed their spleenful mutiny, Until they hear the order of his death. KING HENRY That he is dead, good Warwick, 'tis too true; But how he died God knows, not Henry. Enter his chamber, view his breathless corpse, And comment then upon his sudden death. WARWICK That shall I do, my liege.--Stay, Salisbury, With the rude multitude till I return. [Warwick exits through one door; Salisbury and Commons exit through another.] KING HENRY O Thou that judgest all things, stay my thoughts, My thoughts that labor to persuade my soul Some violent hands were laid on Humphrey's life. If my suspect be false, forgive me, God, For judgment only doth belong to Thee. Fain would I go to chafe his paly lips With twenty thousand kisses, and to drain Upon his face an ocean of salt tears, To tell my love unto his dumb deaf trunk And with my fingers feel his hand unfeeling; But all in vain are these mean obsequies. And to survey his dead and earthy image, What were it but to make my sorrow greater? [Bed put forth, bearing Gloucester's body. Enter Warwick.] WARWICK Come hither, gracious sovereign. View this body. KING HENRY That is to see how deep my grave is made, For with his soul fled all my worldly solace; For seeing him, I see my life in death. WARWICK As surely as my soul intends to live With that dread King that took our state upon Him To free us from His Father's wrathful curse, I do believe that violent hands were laid Upon the life of this thrice-famed duke. SUFFOLK A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn tongue! What instance gives Lord Warwick for his vow? WARWICK See how the blood is settled in his face. Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost, Of ashy semblance, meager, pale, and bloodless, Being all descended to the laboring heart, Who, in the conflict that it holds with death, Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy, Which with the heart there cools and ne'er returneth To blush and beautify the cheek again. But see, his face is black and full of blood; His eyeballs further out than when he lived, Staring full ghastly, like a strangled man; His hair upreared, his nostrils stretched with struggling; His hands abroad displayed, as one that grasped And tugged for life and was by strength subdued. Look, on the sheets his hair, you see, is sticking; His well-proportioned beard made rough and rugged, Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodged. It cannot be but he was murdered here. The least of all these signs were probable. [The bed is removed.] SUFFOLK Why, Warwick, who should do the Duke to death? Myself and Beaufort had him in protection, And we, I hope, sir, are no murderers. WARWICK But both of you were vowed Duke Humphrey's foes, [To Cardinal.] And you, forsooth, had the good duke to keep. 'Tis like you would not feast him like a friend, And 'tis well seen he found an enemy. QUEEN MARGARET Then you, belike, suspect these noblemen As guilty of Duke Humphrey's timeless death. WARWICK Who finds the heifer dead and bleeding fresh, And sees fast by a butcher with an ax, But will suspect 'twas he that made the slaughter? Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest But may imagine how the bird was dead, Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak? Even so suspicious is this tragedy. QUEEN MARGARET Are you the butcher, Suffolk? Where's your knife? Is Beaufort termed a kite? Where are his talons? SUFFOLK I wear no knife to slaughter sleeping men, But here's a vengeful sword, rusted with ease, That shall be scoured in his rancorous heart That slanders me with murder's crimson badge.-- Say, if thou dar'st, proud lord of Warwickshire, That I am faulty in Duke Humphrey's death. WARWICK What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolk dare him? QUEEN MARGARET He dares not calm his contumelious spirit Nor cease to be an arrogant controller, Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times. WARWICK Madam, be still--with reverence may I say-- For every word you speak in his behalf Is slander to your royal dignity. SUFFOLK Blunt-witted lord, ignoble in demeanor! If ever lady wronged her lord so much, Thy mother took into her blameful bed Some stern untutored churl, and noble stock Was graft with crab-tree slip, whose fruit thou art And never of the Nevilles' noble race. WARWICK But that the guilt of murder bucklers thee And I should rob the deathsman of his fee, Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames, And that my sovereign's presence makes me mild, I would, false murd'rous coward, on thy knee Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech And say it was thy mother that thou meant'st, That thou thyself wast born in bastardy; And after all this fearful homage done, Give thee thy hire and send thy soul to hell, Pernicious bloodsucker of sleeping men! SUFFOLK Thou shalt be waking while I shed thy blood, If from this presence thou dar'st go with me. WARWICK Away even now, or I will drag thee hence! Unworthy though thou art, I'll cope with thee And do some service to Duke Humphrey's ghost. [Warwick and Suffolk exit.] KING HENRY What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted? Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just, And he but naked, though locked up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. [A noise within.] QUEEN MARGARET What noise is this? [Enter Suffolk and Warwick, with their weapons drawn.] KING HENRY Why, how now, lords? Your wrathful weapons drawn Here in our presence? Dare you be so bold? Why, what tumultuous clamor have we here? SUFFOLK The trait'rous Warwick, with the men of Bury, Set all upon me, mighty sovereign. [Enter Salisbury.] SALISBURY, [to the offstage Commons] Sirs, stand apart. The King shall know your mind.-- Dread lord, the Commons send you word by me, Unless Lord Suffolk straight be done to death Or banished fair England's territories, They will by violence tear him from your palace And torture him with grievous ling'ring death. They say, by him the good duke Humphrey died; They say, in him they fear your Highness' death; And mere instinct of love and loyalty, Free from a stubborn opposite intent, As being thought to contradict your liking, Makes them thus forward in his banishment. They say, in care of your most royal person, That if your Highness should intend to sleep, And charge that no man should disturb your rest, In pain of your dislike or pain of death, Yet, notwithstanding such a strait edict, Were there a serpent seen with forked tongue That slyly glided towards your Majesty, It were but necessary you were waked, Lest, being suffered in that harmful slumber, The mortal worm might make the sleep eternal. And therefore do they cry, though you forbid, That they will guard you, whe'er you will or no, From such fell serpents as false Suffolk is, With whose envenomed and fatal sting Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth, They say, is shamefully bereft of life. COMMONS, [within] An answer from the King, my lord of Salisbury! SUFFOLK 'Tis like the Commons, rude unpolished hinds, Could send such message to their sovereign! [To Salisbury.] But you, my lord, were glad to be employed, To show how quaint an orator you are. But all the honor Salisbury hath won Is that he was the lord ambassador Sent from a sort of tinkers to the King. COMMONS, [within] An answer from the King, or we will all break in. KING HENRY Go, Salisbury, and tell them all from me, I thank them for their tender loving care; And, had I not been cited so by them, Yet did I purpose as they do entreat. For, sure, my thoughts do hourly prophesy Mischance unto my state by Suffolk's means. And therefore, by His Majesty I swear, Whose far unworthy deputy I am, He shall not breathe infection in this air But three days longer, on the pain of death. [Salisbury exits.] QUEEN MARGARET O Henry, let me plead for gentle Suffolk! KING HENRY Ungentle queen to call him gentle Suffolk! No more, I say. If thou dost plead for him, Thou wilt but add increase unto my wrath. Had I but said, I would have kept my word; But when I swear, it is irrevocable. [To Suffolk.] If, after three days' space, thou here be'st found On any ground that I am ruler of, The world shall not be ransom for thy life.-- Come, Warwick, come, good Warwick, go with me. I have great matters to impart to thee. [All but the Queen and Suffolk exit.] QUEEN MARGARET, [calling after King Henry and Warwick] Mischance and sorrow go along with you! Heart's discontent and sour affliction Be playfellows to keep you company! There's two of you; the devil make a third, And threefold vengeance tend upon your steps! SUFFOLK Cease, gentle queen, these execrations, And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave. QUEEN MARGARET Fie, coward woman and soft-hearted wretch! Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemies? SUFFOLK A plague upon them! Wherefore should I curse them? Could curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan, I would invent as bitter searching terms, As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear, Delivered strongly through my fixed teeth, With full as many signs of deadly hate, As lean-faced Envy in her loathsome cave. My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words; Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint; Mine hair be fixed on end, as one distract; Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban; And even now my burdened heart would break Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink! Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste; Their sweetest shade, a grove of cypress trees; Their chiefest prospect, murd'ring basilisks; Their softest touch, as smart as lizards' stings! Their music, frightful as the serpent's hiss, And boding screech owls make the consort full! All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell-- QUEEN MARGARET Enough, sweet Suffolk, thou torment'st thyself, And these dread curses, like the sun 'gainst glass, Or like an over-charged gun, recoil And turn the force of them upon thyself. SUFFOLK You bade me ban, and will you bid me leave? Now, by the ground that I am banished from, Well could I curse away a winter's night, Though standing naked on a mountain top Where biting cold would never let grass grow, And think it but a minute spent in sport. QUEEN MARGARET O, let me entreat thee cease! Give me thy hand, That I may dew it with my mournful tears; Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place To wash away my woeful monuments. [She kisses his hand.] O, could this kiss be printed in thy hand, That thou mightst think upon these by the seal, Through whom a thousand sighs are breathed for thee! So, get thee gone, that I may know my grief; 'Tis but surmised whiles thou art standing by, As one that surfeits thinking on a want. I will repeal thee, or, be well assured, Adventure to be banished myself; And banished I am, if but from thee. Go, speak not to me. Even now be gone! O, go not yet! Even thus two friends condemned Embrace and kiss and take ten thousand leaves, Loather a hundred times to part than die. [They embrace.] Yet now farewell, and farewell life with thee. SUFFOLK Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished, Once by the King, and three times thrice by thee. 'Tis not the land I care for, wert thou thence. A wilderness is populous enough, So Suffolk had thy heavenly company; For where thou art, there is the world itself, With every several pleasure in the world; And where thou art not, desolation. I can no more. Live thou to joy thy life; Myself no joy in naught but that thou liv'st. [Enter Vaux.] QUEEN MARGARET Whither goes Vaux so fast? What news, I prithee? VAUX To signify unto his Majesty, That Cardinal Beaufort is at point of death; For suddenly a grievous sickness took him That makes him gasp and stare and catch the air, Blaspheming God and cursing men on Earth. Sometimes he talks as if Duke Humphrey's ghost Were by his side; sometimes he calls the King And whispers to his pillow, as to him, The secrets of his overcharged soul. And I am sent to tell his Majesty That even now he cries aloud for him. QUEEN MARGARET Go, tell this heavy message to the King. [Vaux exits.] Ay me! What is this world? What news are these! But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss, Omitting Suffolk's exile, my soul's treasure? Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee, And with the southern clouds contend in tears-- Theirs for the earth's increase, mine for my sorrows'? Now get thee hence. The King, thou know'st, is coming; If thou be found by me, thou art but dead. SUFFOLK If I depart from thee, I cannot live; And in thy sight to die, what were it else But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap? Here could I breathe my soul into the air, As mild and gentle as the cradle babe Dying with mother's dug between its lips; Where, from thy sight, I should be raging mad And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes, To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth. So shouldst thou either turn my flying soul, Or I should breathe it so into thy body, And then it lived in sweet Elysium. To die by thee were but to die in jest; From thee to die were torture more than death. O, let me stay, befall what may befall! QUEEN MARGARET Away! Though parting be a fretful corrosive, It is applied to a deathful wound. To France, sweet Suffolk. Let me hear from thee, For wheresoe'er thou art in this world's globe, I'll have an Iris that shall find thee out. SUFFOLK I go. QUEEN MARGARET And take my heart with thee. SUFFOLK A jewel locked into the woefull'st cask That ever did contain a thing of worth! Even as a splitted bark, so sunder we. This way fall I to death. QUEEN MARGARET This way for me. [They exit through different doors.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter King Henry, Salisbury and Warwick, to the Cardinal in bed, raving and staring.] KING HENRY How fares my lord? Speak, Beaufort, to thy sovereign. CARDINAL If thou be'st Death, I'll give thee England's treasure, Enough to purchase such another island, So thou wilt let me live and feel no pain. KING HENRY Ah, what a sign it is of evil life, Where Death's approach is seen so terrible! WARWICK Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to thee. CARDINAL Bring me unto my trial when you will. Died he not in his bed? Where should he die? Can I make men live, whe'er they will or no? O, torture me no more! I will confess. Alive again? Then show me where he is. I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him. He hath no eyes! The dust hath blinded them. Comb down his hair. Look, look. It stands upright, Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul. Give me some drink, and bid the apothecary Bring the strong poison that I bought of him. KING HENRY O, Thou eternal mover of the heavens, Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch! O, beat away the busy meddling fiend That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul, And from his bosom purge this black despair! WARWICK See how the pangs of death do make him grin! SALISBURY Disturb him not. Let him pass peaceably. KING HENRY Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure be!-- Lord Card'nal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss, Hold up thy hand; make signal of thy hope. [The Cardinal dies.] He dies and makes no sign. O, God forgive him! WARWICK So bad a death argues a monstrous life. KING HENRY Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all. Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close, And let us all to meditation. [After the curtains are closed around the bed, they exit. The bed is removed.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Alarum. Offstage fight at sea. Ordnance goes off. Enter Lieutenant, Suffolk, captive and in disguise, and Others, including a Master, a Master's Mate, Walter Whitmore, and Prisoners.] LIEUTENANT The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day Is crept into the bosom of the sea, And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades That drag the tragic melancholy night, Who, with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings Clip dead men's graves, and from their misty jaws Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air. Therefore bring forth the soldiers of our prize; For, whilst our pinnace anchors in the Downs, Here shall they make their ransom on the sand, Or with their blood stain this discolored shore.-- Master, this prisoner freely give I thee.-- And, thou that art his mate, make boot of this.-- The other, Walter Whitmore, is thy share. [Three gentlemen prisoners, including Suffolk, are handed over.] FIRST GENTLEMAN What is my ransom, master? Let me know. MASTER A thousand crowns, or else lay down your head. MATE, [to the Second Gentleman] And so much shall you give, or off goes yours. LIEUTENANT What, think you much to pay two thousand crowns, And bear the name and port of gentlemen?-- Cut both the villains' throats--for die you shall; The lives of those which we have lost in fight Be counterpoised with such a petty sum! FIRST GENTLEMAN I'll give it, sir, and therefore spare my life. SECOND GENTLEMAN And so will I, and write home for it straight. WHITMORE, [to Suffolk] I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard, And therefore to revenge it shalt thou die; And so should these, if I might have my will. LIEUTENANT Be not so rash. Take ransom; let him live. SUFFOLK Look on my George; I am a gentleman. Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid. WHITMORE And so am I. My name is Walter Whitmore. [Suffolk starts.] How now, why starts thou? What, doth death affright? SUFFOLK Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is death. A cunning man did calculate my birth And told me that by water I should die. Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded; Thy name is Gualtier, being rightly sounded. WHITMORE Gualtier or Walter, which it is, I care not. Never yet did base dishonor blur our name But with our sword we wiped away the blot. Therefore, when merchantlike I sell revenge, Broke be my sword, my arms torn and defaced, And I proclaimed a coward through the world! SUFFOLK Stay, Whitmore, for thy prisoner is a prince, The Duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole. WHITMORE The Duke of Suffolk muffled up in rags? SUFFOLK Ay, but these rags are no part of the Duke. Jove sometimes went disguised, and why not I? LIEUTENANT But Jove was never slain, as thou shalt be. SUFFOLK Obscure and lousy swain, King Henry's blood, The honorable blood of Lancaster, Must not be shed by such a jaded groom. Hast thou not kissed thy hand and held my stirrup? Bareheaded plodded by my footcloth mule, And thought thee happy when I shook my head? How often hast thou waited at my cup, Fed from my trencher, kneeled down at the board, When I have feasted with Queen Margaret? Remember it, and let it make thee crestfall'n, Ay, and allay this thy abortive pride. How in our voiding lobby hast thou stood And duly waited for my coming forth? This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf, And therefore shall it charm thy riotous tongue. WHITMORE Speak, captain, shall I stab the forlorn swain? LIEUTENANT First let my words stab him as he hath me. SUFFOLK Base slave, thy words are blunt, and so art thou. LIEUTENANT Convey him hence, and on our longboat's side, Strike off his head. SUFFOLK Thou dar'st not for thy own. LIEUTENANT Yes, Pole. SUFFOLK Pole! LIEUTENANT Pole! Sir Pole! Lord! Ay, kennel, puddle, sink, whose filth and dirt Troubles the silver spring where England drinks! Now will I dam up this thy yawning mouth For swallowing the treasure of the realm. Thy lips that kissed the Queen shall sweep the ground, And thou that smiledst at good Duke Humphrey's death Against the senseless winds shall grin in vain, Who in contempt shall hiss at thee again. And wedded be thou to the hags of hell For daring to affy a mighty lord Unto the daughter of a worthless king, Having neither subject, wealth, nor diadem. By devilish policy art thou grown great, And, like ambitious Sylla, overgorged With gobbets of thy mother's bleeding heart. By thee Anjou and Maine were sold to France. The false revolting Normans thorough thee Disdain to call us lord, and Picardy Hath slain their governors, surprised our forts, And sent the ragged soldiers wounded home. The princely Warwick, and the Nevilles all, Whose dreadful swords were never drawn in vain, As hating thee, are rising up in arms. And now the house of York, thrust from the crown By shameful murder of a guiltless king And lofty, proud, encroaching tyranny, Burns with revenging fire, whose hopeful colors Advance our half-faced sun, striving to shine, Under the which is writ "Invitis nubibus." The commons here in Kent are up in arms, And, to conclude, reproach and beggary Is crept into the palace of our king, And all by thee.--Away! Convey him hence. SUFFOLK O, that I were a god, to shoot forth thunder Upon these paltry, servile, abject drudges! Small things make base men proud. This villain here, Being captain of a pinnace, threatens more Than Bargulus, the strong Illyrian pirate. Drones suck not eagles' blood, but rob beehives. It is impossible that I should die By such a lowly vassal as thyself. Thy words move rage and not remorse in me. I go of message from the Queen to France. I charge thee waft me safely cross the Channel. LIEUTENANT Walter. WHITMORE Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy death. SUFFOLK Paene gelidus timor occupat artus. It is thee I fear. WHITMORE Thou shalt have cause to fear before I leave thee. What, are you daunted now? Now will you stoop? FIRST GENTLEMAN My gracious lord, entreat him; speak him fair. SUFFOLK Suffolk's imperial tongue is stern and rough, Used to command, untaught to plead for favor. Far be it we should honor such as these With humble suit. No, rather let my head Stoop to the block than these knees bow to any Save to the God of heaven and to my king; And sooner dance upon a bloody pole Than stand uncovered to the vulgar groom. True nobility is exempt from fear.-- More can I bear than you dare execute. LIEUTENANT Hale him away, and let him talk no more. SUFFOLK Come, soldiers, show what cruelty you can, That this my death may never be forgot! Great men oft die by vile bezonians: A Roman sworder and banditto slave Murdered sweet Tully; Brutus' bastard hand Stabbed Julius Caesar; savage islanders Pompey the Great, and Suffolk dies by pirates. [Walter Whitmore exits with Suffolk and Others.] LIEUTENANT And as for these whose ransom we have set, It is our pleasure one of them depart. [To Second Gentleman.] Therefore come you with us, and let him go. [Lieutenant and the rest exit. The First Gentleman remains.] [Enter Walter Whitmore with the body and severed head of Suffolk.] WHITMORE There let his head and lifeless body lie, Until the Queen his mistress bury it. [Walter Whitmore exits.] FIRST GENTLEMAN O, barbarous and bloody spectacle! His body will I bear unto the King. If he revenge it not, yet will his friends. So will the Queen, that living held him dear. [He exits with the head and body.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Bevis and John Holland with staves.] BEVIS Come, and get thee a sword, though made of a lath. They have been up these two days. HOLLAND They have the more need to sleep now, then. BEVIS I tell thee, Jack Cade the clothier means to dress the commonwealth, and turn it, and set a new nap upon it. HOLLAND So he had need, for 'tis threadbare. Well, I say, it was never merry world in England since gentlemen came up. BEVIS O miserable age! Virtue is not regarded in handicraftsmen. HOLLAND The nobility think scorn to go in leather aprons. BEVIS Nay, more, the King's Council are no good workmen. HOLLAND True, and yet it is said "Labor in thy vocation," which is as much to say as "Let the magistrates be laboring men." And therefore should we be magistrates. BEVIS Thou hast hit it, for there's no better sign of a brave mind than a hard hand. HOLLAND I see them, I see them! There's Best's son, the tanner of Wingham-- BEVIS He shall have the skins of our enemies to make dog's leather of. HOLLAND And Dick the butcher-- BEVIS Then is sin struck down like an ox, and iniquity's throat cut like a calf. HOLLAND And Smith the weaver. BEVIS Argo, their thread of life is spun. HOLLAND Come, come, let's fall in with them. [Drum. Enter Cade, Dick the butcher, Smith the weaver, and a Sawyer, with infinite numbers, all with staves.] CADE We, John Cade, so termed of our supposed father-- DICK, [aside] Or rather of stealing a cade of herrings. CADE For our enemies shall fall before us, inspired with the spirit of putting down kings and princes-- command silence. DICK Silence! CADE My father was a Mortimer-- DICK, [aside] He was an honest man and a good bricklayer. CADE My mother a Plantagenet-- DICK, [aside] I knew her well; she was a midwife. CADE My wife descended of the Lacys. DICK, [aside] She was indeed a peddler's daughter, and sold many laces. SMITH, [aside] But now of late, not able to travel with her furred pack, she washes bucks here at home. CADE Therefore am I of an honorable house. DICK, [aside] Ay, by my faith, the field is honorable; and there was he born, under a hedge, for his father had never a house but the cage. CADE Valiant I am-- SMITH, [aside] He must needs, for beggary is valiant. CADE I am able to endure much-- DICK, [aside] No question of that; for I have seen him whipped three market-days together. CADE I fear neither sword nor fire. SMITH, [aside] He need not fear the sword, for his coat is of proof. DICK, [aside] But methinks he should stand in fear of fire, being burnt i' th' hand for stealing of sheep. CADE Be brave, then, for your captain is brave and vows reformation. There shall be in England seven halfpenny loaves sold for a penny. The three-hooped pot shall have ten hoops, and I will make it felony to drink small beer. All the realm shall be in common, and in Cheapside shall my palfrey go to grass. And when I am king, as king I will be-- ALL God save your Majesty! CADE I thank you, good people.--There shall be no money; all shall eat and drink on my score; and I will apparel them all in one livery, that they may agree like brothers and worship me their lord. DICK The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers. CADE Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this a lamentable thing, that of the skin of an innocent lamb should be made parchment? That parchment, being scribbled o'er, should undo a man? Some say the bee stings, but I say, 'tis the beeswax; for I did but seal once to a thing, and I was never mine own man since. How now? Who's there? [Enter a Clerk of Chartham, under guard.] SMITH The clerk of Chartham. He can write and read and cast account. CADE O, monstrous! SMITH We took him setting of boys' copies. CADE Here's a villain! SMITH H'as a book in his pocket with red letters in 't. CADE Nay, then, he is a conjurer. DICK Nay, he can make obligations and write court hand. CADE I am sorry for 't. The man is a proper man, of mine honor. Unless I find him guilty, he shall not die.--Come hither, sirrah; I must examine thee. What is thy name? CLERK Emmanuel. DICK They use to write it on the top of letters.--'Twill go hard with you. CADE Let me alone.--Dost thou use to write thy name? Or hast thou a mark to thyself, like an honest, plain-dealing man? CLERK Sir, I thank God, I have been so well brought up that I can write my name. ALL He hath confessed. Away with him! He's a villain and a traitor. CADE Away with him, I say! Hang him with his pen and inkhorn about his neck. [One exits with the Clerk.] [Enter Michael.] MICHAEL Where's our general? CADE Here I am, thou particular fellow. MICHAEL Fly, fly, fly! Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother are hard by, with the King's forces. CADE Stand, villain, stand, or I'll fell thee down. He shall be encountered with a man as good as himself. He is but a knight, is he? MICHAEL No. CADE To equal him I will make myself a knight presently. [He kneels.] Rise up Sir John Mortimer. [He rises.] Now have at him! [Enter Sir Humphrey Stafford and his Brother, with a Herald, Drum, and Soldiers.] STAFFORD Rebellious hinds, the filth and scum of Kent, Marked for the gallows, lay your weapons down! Home to your cottages; forsake this groom. The King is merciful, if you revolt. BROTHER But angry, wrathful, and inclined to blood, If you go forward. Therefore yield, or die. CADE As for these silken-coated slaves, I pass not. It is to you, good people, that I speak, Over whom, in time to come, I hope to reign, For I am rightful heir unto the crown. STAFFORD Villain, thy father was a plasterer, And thou thyself a shearman, art thou not? CADE And Adam was a gardener. BROTHER And what of that? CADE Marry, this: Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March, Married the Duke of Clarence' daughter, did he not? STAFFORD Ay, sir. CADE By her he had two children at one birth. BROTHER That's false. CADE Ay, there's the question. But I say 'tis true. The elder of them, being put to nurse, Was by a beggar-woman stol'n away, And, ignorant of his birth and parentage, Became a bricklayer when he came to age. His son am I. Deny it if you can. DICK Nay, 'tis too true. Therefore he shall be king. SMITH Sir, he made a chimney in my father's house, and the bricks are alive at this day to testify it. Therefore deny it not. STAFFORD And will you credit this base drudge's words, That speaks he knows not what? ALL Ay, marry, will we. Therefore get you gone. BROTHER Jack Cade, the Duke of York hath taught you this. CADE He lies, [aside] for I invented it myself.--Go to, sirrah. Tell the King from me that, for his father's sake, Henry the Fifth, in whose time boys went to span-counter for French crowns, I am content he shall reign, but I'll be Protector over him. DICK And, furthermore, we'll have the Lord Saye's head for selling the dukedom of Maine. CADE And good reason: for thereby is England mained and fain to go with a staff, but that my puissance holds it up. Fellow kings, I tell you that that Lord Saye hath gelded the commonwealth and made it an eunuch; and, more than that, he can speak French, and therefore he is a traitor. STAFFORD O, gross and miserable ignorance! CADE Nay, answer if you can. The Frenchmen are our enemies. Go to, then, I ask but this: can he that speaks with the tongue of an enemy be a good counselor, or no? ALL No, no, and therefore we'll have his head! BROTHER, [to Stafford] Well, seeing gentle words will not prevail, Assail them with the army of the King. STAFFORD Herald, away, and throughout every town Proclaim them traitors that are up with Cade, That those which fly before the battle ends May, even in their wives' and children's sight Be hanged up for example at their doors.-- And you that be the King's friends, follow me. [The Staffords, Soldiers, and Herald exit.] CADE And you that love the Commons, follow me. Now show yourselves men. 'Tis for liberty! We will not leave one lord, one gentleman; Spare none but such as go in clouted shoon, For they are thrifty, honest men and such As would, but that they dare not, take our parts. DICK They are all in order and march toward us. CADE But then are we in order when we are most out of order. Come, march forward. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Alarums to the fight, wherein both the Staffords are slain. Enter Cade and the rest.] CADE Where's Dick, the butcher of Ashford? DICK Here, sir. CADE They fell before thee like sheep and oxen, and thou behaved'st thyself as if thou hadst been in thine own slaughterhouse. Therefore, thus will I reward thee: the Lent shall be as long again as it is, and thou shalt have a license to kill for a hundred lacking one. DICK I desire no more. CADE And to speak truth, thou deserv'st no less. This monument of the victory will I bear. [He puts on Sir Humphrey Stafford's armor and helmet, or sallet.] And the bodies shall be dragged at my horse heels till I do come to London, where we will have the Mayor's sword borne before us. DICK If we mean to thrive and do good, break open the jails and let out the prisoners. CADE Fear not that, I warrant thee. Come, let's march towards London. [They exit with the bodies of the Staffords.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter King Henry, with a supplication, and Queen Margaret with Suffolk's head, the Duke of Buckingham, and the Lord Saye.] QUEEN MARGARET, [aside] Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind And makes it fearful and degenerate. Think therefore on revenge, and cease to weep. But who can cease to weep and look on this? Here may his head lie on my throbbing breast, But where's the body that I should embrace? BUCKINGHAM, [to King Henry] What answer makes your Grace to the rebels' supplication? KING HENRY I'll send some holy bishop to entreat, For God forbid so many simple souls Should perish by the sword! And I myself, Rather than bloody war shall cut them short, Will parley with Jack Cade, their general. But stay, I'll read it over once again. [He reads.] QUEEN MARGARET, [aside] Ah, barbarous villains! Hath this lovely face Ruled, like a wandering planet, over me, And could it not enforce them to relent That were unworthy to behold the same? KING HENRY Lord Saye, Jack Cade hath sworn to have thy head. SAYE Ay, but I hope your Highness shall have his. KING HENRY How now, madam? Still lamenting and mourning for Suffolk's death? I fear me, love, if that I had been dead, Thou wouldst not have mourned so much for me. QUEEN MARGARET No, my love, I should not mourn, but die for thee. [Enter a Messenger.] KING HENRY How now, what news? Why com'st thou in such haste? MESSENGER The rebels are in Southwark. Fly, my lord! Jack Cade proclaims himself Lord Mortimer, Descended from the Duke of Clarence' house, And calls your Grace usurper, openly, And vows to crown himself in Westminster. His army is a ragged multitude Of hinds and peasants, rude and merciless. Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother's death Hath given them heart and courage to proceed. All scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen They call false caterpillars and intend their death. KING HENRY O, graceless men, they know not what they do! BUCKINGHAM My gracious lord, retire to Killingworth Until a power be raised to put them down. QUEEN MARGARET Ah, were the Duke of Suffolk now alive, These Kentish rebels would be soon appeased! KING HENRY Lord Saye, the traitors hateth thee; Therefore away with us to Killingworth. SAYE So might your Grace's person be in danger. The sight of me is odious in their eyes; And therefore in this city will I stay And live alone as secret as I may. [Enter another Messenger.] SECOND MESSENGER Jack Cade hath gotten London Bridge. The citizens fly and forsake their houses. The rascal people, thirsting after prey, Join with the traitor, and they jointly swear To spoil the city and your royal court. BUCKINGHAM Then linger not, my lord. Away! Take horse! KING HENRY Come, Margaret. God, our hope, will succor us. QUEEN MARGARET My hope is gone, now Suffolk is deceased. KING HENRY, [to Saye] Farewell, my lord. Trust not the Kentish rebels. BUCKINGHAM Trust nobody, for fear you be betrayed. SAYE The trust I have is in mine innocence, And therefore am I bold and resolute. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Lord Scales upon the Tower, walking. Then enters two or three Citizens below.] SCALES How now? Is Jack Cade slain? FIRST CITIZEN No, my lord, nor likely to be slain; for they have won the Bridge, killing all those that withstand them. The Lord Mayor craves aid of your Honor from the Tower to defend the city from the rebels. SCALES Such aid as I can spare you shall command; But I am troubled here with them myself: The rebels have essayed to win the Tower. But get you to Smithfield and gather head, And thither I will send you Matthew Gough. Fight for your king, your country, and your lives. And so farewell, for I must hence again. [They exit.] Scene 6 ======= [Enter Jack Cade and the rest, and strikes his staff on London Stone.] CADE Now is Mortimer lord of this city. And here, sitting upon London Stone, I charge and command that, of the city's cost, the Pissing Conduit run nothing but claret wine this first year of our reign. And now henceforward it shall be treason for any that calls me other than Lord Mortimer. [Enter a Soldier running.] SOLDIER Jack Cade, Jack Cade! CADE Knock him down there. [They kill him.] DICK If this fellow be wise, he'll never call you Jack Cade more. I think he hath a very fair warning. [Takes a paper from the dead Soldier and reads the message.] My lord, there's an army gathered together in Smithfield. CADE Come, then, let's go fight with them. But first, go and set London Bridge on fire, and, if you can, burn down the Tower too. Come, let's away. [All exit.] Scene 7 ======= [Alarums. Matthew Gough is slain, and all the rest. Then enter Jack Cade with his company.] CADE So, sirs. Now go some and pull down the Savoy; others to th' Inns of Court. Down with them all! DICK I have a suit unto your Lordship. CADE Be it a lordship, thou shalt have it for that word. DICK Only that the laws of England may come out of your mouth. HOLLAND, [aside] Mass, 'twill be sore law, then, for he was thrust in the mouth with a spear, and 'tis not whole yet. SMITH, [aside] Nay, John, it will be stinking law, for his breath stinks with eating toasted cheese. CADE I have thought upon it; it shall be so. Away! Burn all the records of the realm. My mouth shall be the Parliament of England. HOLLAND, [aside] Then we are like to have biting statutes--unless his teeth be pulled out. CADE And henceforward all things shall be in common. [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER My lord, a prize, a prize! Here's the Lord Saye, which sold the towns in France, he that made us pay one-and-twenty fifteens, and one shilling to the pound, the last subsidy. [Enter George with the Lord Saye.] CADE Well, he shall be beheaded for it ten times.--Ah, thou say, thou serge, nay, thou buckram lord, now art thou within point-blank of our jurisdiction regal. What canst thou answer to my Majesty for giving up of Normandy unto Monsieur Basimecu, the Dauphin of France? Be it known unto thee by these presence, even the presence of Lord Mortimer, that I am the besom that must sweep the court clean of such filth as thou art. Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a grammar school; and whereas, before, our forefathers had no other books but the score and the tally, thou hast caused printing to be used, and, contrary to the King his crown and dignity, thou hast built a paper mill. It will be proved to thy face that thou hast men about thee that usually talk of a noun and a verb and such abominable words as no Christian ear can endure to hear. Thou hast appointed justices of peace to call poor men before them about matters they were not able to answer. Moreover, thou hast put them in prison; and, because they could not read, thou hast hanged them, when indeed only for that cause they have been most worthy to live. Thou dost ride on a footcloth, dost thou not? SAYE What of that? CADE Marry, thou oughtst not to let thy horse wear a cloak when honester men than thou go in their hose and doublets. DICK And work in their shirt too--as myself, for example, that am a butcher. SAYE You men of Kent-- DICK What say you of Kent? SAYE Nothing but this: 'tis bona terra, mala gens. CADE Away with him, away with him! He speaks Latin. SAYE Hear me but speak, and bear me where you will. Kent, in the commentaries Caesar writ, Is termed the civil'st place of all this isle. Sweet is the country, because full of riches; The people liberal, valiant, active, wealthy; Which makes me hope you are not void of pity. I sold not Maine; I lost not Normandy; Yet to recover them would lose my life. Justice with favor have I always done; Prayers and tears have moved me; gifts could never. When have I aught exacted at your hands Kent to maintain, the King, the realm, and you? Large gifts have I bestowed on learned clerks, Because my book preferred me to the King. And seeing ignorance is the curse of God, Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven, Unless you be possessed with devilish spirits, You cannot but forbear to murder me. This tongue hath parleyed unto foreign kings For your behoof-- CADE Tut, when struck'st thou one blow in the field? SAYE Great men have reaching hands. Oft have I struck Those that I never saw, and struck them dead. GEORGE O monstrous coward! What, to come behind folks? SAYE These cheeks are pale for watching for your good. CADE Give him a box o' th' ear, and that will make 'em red again. SAYE Long sitting to determine poor men's causes Hath made me full of sickness and diseases. CADE You shall have a hempen caudle, then, and the help of hatchet. DICK Why dost thou quiver, man? SAYE The palsy, and not fear, provokes me. CADE Nay, he nods at us, as who should say "I'll be even with you." I'll see if his head will stand steadier on a pole, or no. Take him away, and behead him. SAYE Tell me, wherein have I offended most? Have I affected wealth or honor? Speak. Are my chests filled up with extorted gold? Is my apparel sumptuous to behold? Whom have I injured, that you seek my death? These hands are free from guiltless blood-shedding, This breast from harboring foul deceitful thoughts. O, let me live! CADE I feel remorse in myself with his words, but I'll bridle it. He shall die, an it be but for pleading so well for his life. Away with him! He has a familiar under his tongue; he speaks not i' God's name. Go, take him away, I say, and strike off his head presently; and then break into his son-in-law's house, Sir James Cromer, and strike off his head; and bring them both upon two poles hither. ALL It shall be done. SAYE Ah, countrymen, if when you make your prayers, God should be so obdurate as yourselves, How would it fare with your departed souls? And therefore yet relent, and save my life. CADE Away with him, and do as I command you. [Some exit with Lord Saye.] The proudest peer in the realm shall not wear a head on his shoulders unless he pay me tribute. There shall not a maid be married but she shall pay to me her maidenhead ere they have it. Men shall hold of me in capite; and we charge and command that their wives be as free as heart can wish or tongue can tell. DICK My lord, when shall we go to Cheapside and take up commodities upon our bills? CADE Marry, presently. ALL O, brave! [Enter one with the heads of Lord Saye and Sir James Cromer on poles.] CADE But is not this braver? Let them kiss one another, for they loved well when they were alive. [The heads are brought together.] Now part them again, lest they consult about the giving up of some more towns in France. Soldiers, defer the spoil of the city until night, for, with these borne before us instead of maces, will we ride through the streets and at every corner have them kiss. Away! [He exits with his company.] Scene 8 ======= [Alarum, and retreat. Enter again Cade and all his rabblement.] CADE Up Fish Street! Down Saint Magnus' Corner! Kill and knock down! Throw them into Thames! [Sound a parley.] What noise is this I hear? Dare any be so bold to sound retreat or parley when I command them kill? [Enter Buckingham and old Clifford with Attendants.] BUCKINGHAM Ay, here they be that dare and will disturb thee. Know, Cade, we come ambassadors from the King Unto the Commons, whom thou hast misled, And here pronounce free pardon to them all That will forsake thee and go home in peace. CLIFFORD What say you, countrymen? Will you relent And yield to mercy whil'st 'tis offered you, Or let a rabble lead you to your deaths? Who loves the King and will embrace his pardon, Fling up his cap and say "God save his Majesty!" Who hateth him and honors not his father, Henry the Fifth, that made all France to quake, Shake he his weapon at us and pass by. ALL God save the King! God save the King! [They fling their caps in the air.] CADE What, Buckingham and Clifford, are you so brave?--And, you base peasants, do you believe him? Will you needs be hanged with your pardons about your necks? Hath my sword therefore broke through London gates, that you should leave me at the White Hart in Southwark? I thought you would never have given out these arms till you had recovered your ancient freedom. But you are all recreants and dastards, and delight to live in slavery to the nobility. Let them break your backs with burdens, take your houses over your heads, ravish your wives and daughters before your faces. For me, I will make shift for one, and so God's curse light upon you all! ALL We'll follow Cade! We'll follow Cade! CLIFFORD Is Cade the son of Henry the Fifth, That thus you do exclaim you'll go with him? Will he conduct you through the heart of France And make the meanest of you earls and dukes? Alas, he hath no home, no place to fly to, Nor knows he how to live but by the spoil, Unless by robbing of your friends and us. Were 't not a shame that, whilst you live at jar, The fearful French, whom you late vanquished, Should make a start o'er seas and vanquish you? Methinks already in this civil broil I see them lording it in London streets, Crying "Villiago!" unto all they meet. Better ten thousand baseborn Cades miscarry Than you should stoop unto a Frenchman's mercy. To France, to France, and get what you have lost! Spare England, for it is your native coast. Henry hath money; you are strong and manly. God on our side, doubt not of victory. ALL A Clifford! A Clifford! We'll follow the King and Clifford! CADE, [aside] Was ever feather so lightly blown to and fro as this multitude? The name of Henry the Fifth hales them to an hundred mischiefs and makes them leave me desolate. I see them lay their heads together to surprise me. My sword make way for me, for here is no staying!--In despite of the devils and hell, have through the very middest of you! And heavens and honor be witness that no want of resolution in me, but only my followers' base and ignominious treasons, makes me betake me to my heels. [He exits, running.] BUCKINGHAM What, is he fled? Go, some, and follow him; And he that brings his head unto the King Shall have a thousand crowns for his reward. [Some of them exit.] Follow me, soldiers. We'll devise a means To reconcile you all unto the King. [All exit.] Scene 9 ======= [Sound trumpets. Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, and Somerset on the terrace, aloft.] KING HENRY Was ever king that joyed an earthly throne And could command no more content than I? No sooner was I crept out of my cradle But I was made a king at nine months old. Was never subject longed to be a king As I do long and wish to be a subject! [Enter Buckingham and old Clifford.] BUCKINGHAM Health and glad tidings to your Majesty! KING HENRY Why, Buckingham, is the traitor Cade surprised, Or is he but retired to make him strong? [Enter below multitudes with halters about their necks.] CLIFFORD He is fled, my lord, and all his powers do yield And, humbly thus, with halters on their necks, Expect your Highness' doom of life or death. KING HENRY Then, heaven, set ope thy everlasting gates To entertain my vows of thanks and praise! Soldiers, this day have you redeemed your lives And showed how well you love your prince and country. Continue still in this so good a mind, And Henry, though he be infortunate, Assure yourselves, will never be unkind. And so with thanks and pardon to you all, I do dismiss you to your several countries. ALL God save the King! God save the King! [The multitudes exit.] [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER Please it your Grace to be advertised The Duke of York is newly come from Ireland And, with a puissant and a mighty power Of gallowglasses and stout kerns, Is marching hitherward in proud array, And still proclaimeth, as he comes along, His arms are only to remove from thee The Duke of Somerset, whom he terms a traitor. KING HENRY Thus stands my state, 'twixt Cade and York distressed, Like to a ship that, having scaped a tempest, Is straightway calmed and boarded with a pirate. But now is Cade driven back, his men dispersed, And now is York in arms to second him. I pray thee, Buckingham, go and meet him, And ask him what's the reason of these arms. Tell him I'll send Duke Edmund to the Tower.-- And, Somerset, we will commit thee thither Until his army be dismissed from him. SOMERSET My lord, I'll yield myself to prison willingly, Or unto death, to do my country good. KING HENRY, [to Buckingham] In any case, be not too rough in terms, For he is fierce and cannot brook hard language. BUCKINGHAM I will, my lord, and doubt not so to deal As all things shall redound unto your good. KING HENRY Come, wife, let's in, and learn to govern better, For yet may England curse my wretched reign. [Flourish. They exit.] Scene 10 ======== [Enter Cade.] CADE Fie on ambitions! Fie on myself, that have a sword and yet am ready to famish! These five days have I hid me in these woods and durst not peep out, for all the country is laid for me. But now am I so hungry that, if I might have a lease of my life for a thousand years, I could stay no longer. Wherefore, o'er a brick wall have I climbed into this garden, to see if I can eat grass, or pick a sallet another while, which is not amiss to cool a man's stomach this hot weather. And I think this word sallet was born to do me good; for many a time, but for a sallet, my brainpan had been cleft with a brown bill; and many a time, when I have been dry and bravely marching, it hath served me instead of a quart pot to drink in; and now the word sallet must serve me to feed on. [Enter Iden and his Men.] IDEN Lord, who would live turmoiled in the court And may enjoy such quiet walks as these? This small inheritance my father left me Contenteth me, and worth a monarchy. I seek not to wax great by others' waning, Or gather wealth, I care not with what envy. Sufficeth that I have maintains my state And sends the poor well pleased from my gate. CADE, [aside] Here's the lord of the soil come to seize me for a stray, for entering his fee-simple without leave.--Ah, villain, thou wilt betray me and get a thousand crowns of the King by carrying my head to him; but I'll make thee eat iron like an ostrich and swallow my sword like a great pin, ere thou and I part. [He draws his sword.] IDEN Why, rude companion, whatsoe'er thou be, I know thee not. Why, then, should I betray thee? Is 't not enough to break into my garden And, like a thief, to come to rob my grounds, Climbing my walls in spite of me the owner, But thou wilt brave me with these saucy terms? CADE Brave thee? Ay, by the best blood that ever was broached, and beard thee too. Look on me well: I have eat no meat these five days, yet come thou and thy five men, and if I do not leave you all as dead as a doornail, I pray God I may never eat grass more. IDEN Nay, it shall ne'er be said, while England stands, That Alexander Iden, an esquire of Kent, Took odds to combat a poor famished man. Oppose thy steadfast gazing eyes to mine; See if thou canst outface me with thy looks. Set limb to limb, and thou art far the lesser; Thy hand is but a finger to my fist, Thy leg a stick compared with this truncheon. My foot shall fight with all the strength thou hast; And if mine arm be heaved in the air, Thy grave is digged already in the earth. As for words, whose greatness answers words, Let this my sword report what speech forbears. [He draws his sword.] CADE By my valor, the most complete champion that ever I heard! Steel, if thou turn the edge or cut not out the burly-boned clown in chines of beef ere thou sleep in thy sheath, I beseech God on my knees thou mayst be turned to hobnails. [Here they fight, and Cade falls.] O, I am slain! Famine, and no other, hath slain me. Let ten thousand devils come against me, and give me but the ten meals I have lost, and I'd defy them all. Wither, garden, and be henceforth a burying place to all that do dwell in this house, because the unconquered soul of Cade is fled. IDEN Is 't Cade that I have slain, that monstrous traitor? Sword, I will hallow thee for this thy deed, And hang thee o'er my tomb when I am dead. Ne'er shall this blood be wiped from thy point, But thou shalt wear it as a herald's coat To emblaze the honor that thy master got. CADE Iden, farewell, and be proud of thy victory. Tell Kent from me she hath lost her best man, and exhort all the world to be cowards; for I, that never feared any, am vanquished by famine, not by valor. [Dies.] IDEN How much thou wrong'st me, heaven be my judge! Die, damned wretch, the curse of her that bare thee! And as I thrust thy body in with my sword, So wish I, I might thrust thy soul to hell. Hence will I drag thee headlong by the heels Unto a dunghill, which shall be thy grave, And there cut off thy most ungracious head, Which I will bear in triumph to the King, Leaving thy trunk for crows to feed upon. [He exits with his Men, dragging Cade's body.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter York, wearing the white rose, and his army of Irish, with Attendants, Drum and Colors.] YORK From Ireland thus comes York to claim his right And pluck the crown from feeble Henry's head. Ring, bells, aloud! Burn, bonfires, clear and bright To entertain great England's lawful king! Ah, sancta maiestas, who would not buy thee dear? Let them obey that knows not how to rule. This hand was made to handle naught but gold. I cannot give due action to my words Except a sword or scepter balance it. A scepter shall it have, have I a soul, On which I'll toss the fleur-de-luce of France. [Enter Buckingham, wearing the red rose.] [Aside.] Whom have we here? Buckingham, to disturb me? The King hath sent him, sure. I must dissemble. BUCKINGHAM York, if thou meanest well, I greet thee well. YORK Humphrey of Buckingham, I accept thy greeting. Art thou a messenger, or come of pleasure? BUCKINGHAM A messenger from Henry, our dread liege, To know the reason of these arms in peace; Or why thou, being a subject as I am, Against thy oath and true allegiance sworn, Should raise so great a power without his leave, Or dare to bring thy force so near the court. YORK, [aside] Scarce can I speak, my choler is so great. O, I could hew up rocks and fight with flint, I am so angry at these abject terms! And now, like Ajax Telamonius, On sheep or oxen could I spend my fury. I am far better born than is the King, More like a king, more kingly in my thoughts. But I must make fair weather yet awhile, Till Henry be more weak and I more strong.-- Buckingham, I prithee, pardon me, That I have given no answer all this while. My mind was troubled with deep melancholy. The cause why I have brought this army hither Is to remove proud Somerset from the King, Seditious to his Grace and to the state. BUCKINGHAM That is too much presumption on thy part. But if thy arms be to no other end, The King hath yielded unto thy demand: The Duke of Somerset is in the Tower. YORK Upon thine honor, is he prisoner? BUCKINGHAM Upon mine honor, he is prisoner. YORK Then, Buckingham, I do dismiss my powers.-- Soldiers, I thank you all. Disperse yourselves. Meet me tomorrow in Saint George's field; You shall have pay and everything you wish. [Soldiers exit.] And let my sovereign, virtuous Henry, Command my eldest son, nay, all my sons, As pledges of my fealty and love; I'll send them all as willing as I live. Lands, goods, horse, armor, anything I have Is his to use, so Somerset may die. BUCKINGHAM York, I commend this kind submission. We twain will go into his Highness' tent. [They walk arm in arm.] [Enter King Henry and Attendants.] KING HENRY Buckingham, doth York intend no harm to us That thus he marcheth with thee arm in arm? YORK In all submission and humility York doth present himself unto your Highness. KING HENRY Then what intends these forces thou dost bring? YORK To heave the traitor Somerset from hence And fight against that monstrous rebel Cade, Who since I heard to be discomfited. [Enter Iden, with Cade's head.] IDEN If one so rude and of so mean condition May pass into the presence of a king, Lo, I present your Grace a traitor's head, The head of Cade, whom I in combat slew. KING HENRY The head of Cade? Great God, how just art Thou! O, let me view his visage, being dead, That living wrought me such exceeding trouble. Tell me, my friend, art thou the man that slew him? IDEN I was, an 't like your Majesty. KING HENRY How art thou called? And what is thy degree? IDEN Alexander Iden, that's my name, A poor esquire of Kent that loves his king. BUCKINGHAM So please it you, my lord, 'twere not amiss He were created knight for his good service. KING HENRY Iden, kneel down. [He kneels.] Rise up a knight. [He rises.] We give thee for reward a thousand marks, And will that thou henceforth attend on us. IDEN May Iden live to merit such a bounty, And never live but true unto his liege! [Enter Queen Margaret and Somerset, wearing the red rose.] KING HENRY, [aside to Buckingham] See, Buckingham, Somerset comes with th' Queen. Go bid her hide him quickly from the Duke. [Buckingham whispers to the Queen.] QUEEN MARGARET For thousand Yorks he shall not hide his head, But boldly stand and front him to his face. YORK, [aside] How now? Is Somerset at liberty? Then, York, unloose thy long-imprisoned thoughts, And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart. Shall I endure the sight of Somerset?-- False king, why hast thou broken faith with me, Knowing how hardly I can brook abuse? "King" did I call thee? No, thou art not king, Not fit to govern and rule multitudes, Which dar'st not--no, nor canst not--rule a traitor. That head of thine doth not become a crown; Thy hand is made to grasp a palmer's staff, And not to grace an awful princely scepter. That gold must round engirt these brows of mine, Whose smile and frown, like to Achilles' spear, Is able with the change to kill and cure. Here is a hand to hold a scepter up And with the same to act controlling laws. Give place. By heaven, thou shalt rule no more O'er him whom heaven created for thy ruler. SOMERSET O monstrous traitor! I arrest thee, York, Of capital treason 'gainst the King and crown. Obey, audacious traitor. Kneel for grace. YORK Wouldst have me kneel? First let me ask of these If they can brook I bow a knee to man. [To an Attendant.] Sirrah, call in my sons to be my bail. [Attendant exits.] I know, ere they will have me go to ward, They'll pawn their swords for my enfranchisement. QUEEN MARGARET, [to Buckingham] Call hither Clifford; bid him come amain, To say if that the bastard boys of York Shall be the surety for their traitor father. [Buckingham exits.] YORK, [to Queen Margaret] O, blood-bespotted Neapolitan, Outcast of Naples, England's bloody scourge! The sons of York, thy betters in their birth, Shall be their father's bail, and bane to those That for my surety will refuse the boys. [Enter York's sons Edward and Richard, wearing the white rose.] See where they come; I'll warrant they'll make it good. [Enter old Clifford and his Son, wearing the red rose.] QUEEN MARGARET And here comes Clifford to deny their bail. CLIFFORD, [kneeling before King Henry] Health and all happiness to my lord the King. [He rises.] YORK I thank thee, Clifford. Say, what news with thee? Nay, do not fright us with an angry look. We are thy sovereign, Clifford; kneel again. For thy mistaking so, we pardon thee. CLIFFORD This is my king, York; I do not mistake, But thou mistakes me much to think I do.-- To Bedlam with him! Is the man grown mad? KING HENRY Ay, Clifford, a bedlam and ambitious humor Makes him oppose himself against his king. CLIFFORD He is a traitor. Let him to the Tower, And chop away that factious pate of his. QUEEN MARGARET He is arrested, but will not obey. His sons, he says, shall give their words for him. YORK Will you not, sons? EDWARD Ay, noble father, if our words will serve. RICHARD And if words will not, then our weapons shall. CLIFFORD Why, what a brood of traitors have we here! YORK Look in a glass, and call thy image so. I am thy king and thou a false-heart traitor. Call hither to the stake my two brave bears, That, with the very shaking of their chains, They may astonish these fell-lurking curs. [To an Attendant.] Bid Salisbury and Warwick come to me. [Attendant exits.] [Enter the Earls of Warwick and Salisbury, wearing the white rose.] CLIFFORD Are these thy bears? We'll bait thy bears to death And manacle the bearherd in their chains, If thou dar'st bring them to the baiting place. RICHARD Oft have I seen a hot o'erweening cur Run back and bite because he was withheld, Who, being suffered with the bear's fell paw, Hath clapped his tail between his legs and cried; And such a piece of service will you do If you oppose yourselves to match Lord Warwick. CLIFFORD Hence, heap of wrath, foul indigested lump, As crooked in thy manners as thy shape! YORK Nay, we shall heat you thoroughly anon. CLIFFORD Take heed, lest by your heat you burn yourselves. KING HENRY Why, Warwick, hath thy knee forgot to bow?-- Old Salisbury, shame to thy silver hair, Thou mad misleader of thy brainsick son! What, wilt thou on thy deathbed play the ruffian And seek for sorrow with thy spectacles? O, where is faith? O, where is loyalty? If it be banished from the frosty head, Where shall it find a harbor in the earth? Wilt thou go dig a grave to find out war, And shame thine honorable age with blood? Why art thou old and want'st experience? Or wherefore dost abuse it, if thou hast it? For shame! In duty bend thy knee to me That bows unto the grave with mickle age. SALISBURY My lord, I have considered with myself The title of this most renowned duke, And in my conscience do repute his Grace The rightful heir to England's royal seat. KING HENRY Hast thou not sworn allegiance unto me? SALISBURY I have. KING HENRY Canst thou dispense with heaven for such an oath? SALISBURY It is great sin to swear unto a sin, But greater sin to keep a sinful oath. Who can be bound by any solemn vow To do a murd'rous deed, to rob a man, To force a spotless virgin's chastity, To reave the orphan of his patrimony, To wring the widow from her customed right, And have no other reason for this wrong But that he was bound by a solemn oath? QUEEN MARGARET A subtle traitor needs no sophister. KING HENRY, [to an Attendant] Call Buckingham, and bid him arm himself. [Attendant exits.] YORK, [to King Henry] Call Buckingham and all the friends thou hast, I am resolved for death or dignity. CLIFFORD The first, I warrant thee, if dreams prove true. WARWICK You were best to go to bed and dream again, To keep thee from the tempest of the field. CLIFFORD I am resolved to bear a greater storm Than any thou canst conjure up today; And that I'll write upon thy burgonet, Might I but know thee by thy house's badge. WARWICK Now, by my father's badge, old Neville's crest, The rampant bear chained to the ragged staff, This day I'll wear aloft my burgonet-- As on a mountaintop the cedar shows That keeps his leaves in spite of any storm-- Even to affright thee with the view thereof. CLIFFORD And from thy burgonet I'll rend thy bear And tread it under foot with all contempt, Despite the bearherd that protects the bear. YOUNG CLIFFORD And so to arms, victorious father, To quell the rebels and their complices. RICHARD Fie! Charity, for shame! Speak not in spite, For you shall sup with Jesu Christ tonight. YOUNG CLIFFORD Foul stigmatic, that's more than thou canst tell! RICHARD If not in heaven, you'll surely sup in hell. [They exit separately.] Scene 2 ======= [The sign of the Castle Inn is displayed. Alarms. Enter Warwick, wearing the white rose.] WARWICK Clifford of Cumberland, 'tis Warwick calls! An if thou dost not hide thee from the bear, Now, when the angry trumpet sounds alarum And dead men's cries do fill the empty air, Clifford, I say, come forth and fight with me; Proud northern lord, Clifford of Cumberland, Warwick is hoarse with calling thee to arms. [Enter York, wearing the white rose.] How now, my noble lord? What, all afoot? YORK The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed, But match to match I have encountered him And made a prey for carrion kites and crows Even of the bonny beast he loved so well. [Enter old Clifford, wearing the red rose.] WARWICK Of one or both of us the time is come. YORK Hold, Warwick! Seek thee out some other chase, For I myself must hunt this deer to death. WARWICK Then, nobly, York! 'Tis for a crown thou fight'st.-- As I intend, Clifford, to thrive today, It grieves my soul to leave thee unassailed. [Warwick exits.] CLIFFORD What seest thou in me, York? Why dost thou pause? YORK With thy brave bearing should I be in love, But that thou art so fast mine enemy. CLIFFORD Nor should thy prowess want praise and esteem, But that 'tis shown ignobly and in treason. YORK So let it help me now against thy sword As I in justice and true right express it! CLIFFORD My soul and body on the action both! YORK A dreadful lay! Address thee instantly. [They fight and Clifford falls.] CLIFFORD La fin courrone les oeuvres. [He dies.] YORK Thus war hath given thee peace, for thou art still. Peace with his soul, heaven, if it be thy will! [He exits.] [Enter young Clifford, wearing the red rose.] YOUNG CLIFFORD Shame and confusion! All is on the rout. Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds Where it should guard. O war, thou son of hell, Whom angry heavens do make their minister, Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part Hot coals of vengeance! Let no soldier fly. He that is truly dedicate to war Hath no self-love; nor he that loves himself Hath not essentially, but by circumstance, The name of valor. [He sees his father, lying dead.] O, let the vile world end And the premised flames of the last day Knit Earth and heaven together! Now let the general trumpet blow his blast, Particularities and petty sounds To cease! Wast thou ordained, dear father, To lose thy youth in peace, and to achieve The silver livery of advised age, And, in thy reverence and thy chair-days, thus To die in ruffian battle? Even at this sight My heart is turned to stone, and while 'tis mine, It shall be stony. York not our old men spares; No more will I their babes. Tears virginal Shall be to me even as the dew to fire; And beauty, that the tyrant oft reclaims, Shall to my flaming wrath be oil and flax. Henceforth I will not have to do with pity. Meet I an infant of the house of York, Into as many gobbets will I cut it As wild Medea young Absyrtis did. In cruelty will I seek out my fame. [He takes his father's body onto his back.] Come, thou new ruin of old Clifford's house; As did Aeneas old Anchises bear, So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders. But then Aeneas bare a living load, Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine. [He exits.] [Enter Richard, wearing the white rose, and Somerset, wearing the red rose, to fight.] [Richard kills Somerset under the sign of Castle Inn.] RICHARD So lie thou there. For underneath an alehouse' paltry sign, The Castle in Saint Albans, Somerset Hath made the wizard famous in his death. Sword, hold thy temper! Heart, be wrathful still! Priests pray for enemies, but princes kill. [He exits.] [Fight. Excursions. Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, both wearing the red rose, and Others.] QUEEN MARGARET Away, my lord! You are slow. For shame, away! KING HENRY Can we outrun the heavens? Good Margaret, stay! QUEEN MARGARET What are you made of? You'll nor fight nor fly. Now is it manhood, wisdom, and defense To give the enemy way, and to secure us By what we can, which can no more but fly. [Alarum afar off.] If you be ta'en, we then should see the bottom Of all our fortunes; but if we haply scape, As well we may--if not through your neglect-- We shall to London get, where you are loved And where this breach now in our fortunes made May readily be stopped. [Enter Young Clifford, wearing the red rose.] YOUNG CLIFFORD But that my heart's on future mischief set, I would speak blasphemy ere bid you fly; But fly you must. Uncurable discomfit Reigns in the hearts of all our present parts. Away, for your relief! And we will live To see their day and them our fortune give. Away, my lord, away! [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Alarum. Retreat. Enter York, Edward, Richard, Warwick, and Soldiers, all wearing the white rose, with Drum and Colors.] YORK Of Salisbury, who can report of him, That winter lion, who in rage forgets Aged contusions and all brush of time, And, like a gallant in the brow of youth, Repairs him with occasion? This happy day Is not itself, nor have we won one foot, If Salisbury be lost. RICHARD My noble father, Three times today I holp him to his horse, Three times bestrid him. Thrice I led him off, Persuaded him from any further act; But still, where danger was, still there I met him, And, like rich hangings in a homely house, So was his will in his old feeble body. But, noble as he is, look where he comes. [Enter Salisbury, wearing the white rose.] Now, by my sword, well hast thou fought today! SALISBURY By th' Mass, so did we all. I thank you, Richard. God knows how long it is I have to live, And it hath pleased Him that three times today You have defended me from imminent death. Well, lords, we have not got that which we have; 'Tis not enough our foes are this time fled, Being opposites of such repairing nature. YORK I know our safety is to follow them; For, as I hear, the King is fled to London To call a present court of Parliament. Let us pursue him ere the writs go forth.-- What says Lord Warwick? Shall we after them? WARWICK After them? Nay, before them, if we can. Now, by my hand, lords, 'twas a glorious day. Saint Albans battle won by famous York Shall be eternized in all age to come.-- Sound drum and trumpets, and to London all; And more such days as these to us befall! [Flourish. They exit.]

Henry VI, Part 3 by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== KING HENRY VI QUEEN MARGARET PRINCE EDWARD Lord CLIFFORD Lancastrian supporters: Earl of NORTHUMBERLAND Earl of WESTMORLAND Duke of EXETER Earl of OXFORD Sir John SOMERVILLE Supporters first of York, then of Lancaster: Earl of WARWICK Marquess of MONTAGUE Duke of SOMERSET Richard Plantagenet, Duke of YORK Sons of Richard, Duke of York: EDWARD, Earl of March, later KING EDWARD IV GEORGE, later Duke of CLARENCE RICHARD, later Duke of GLOUCESTER RUTLAND SIR JOHN Mortimer, York's uncle LADY GREY, later QUEEN ELIZABETH Earl RIVERS, brother to the queen Yorkist supporters: Duke of NORFOLK Earl of PEMBROKE Lord STAFFORD Lord HASTINGS Sir William STANLEY Sir John MONTGOMERY KING LEWIS of France LADY BONA, his sister-in-law Rutland's TUTOR A SON that has killed his father A FATHER that has killed his son FIRST GAMEKEEPER SECOND GAMEKEEPER A NOBLEMAN POST FIRST WATCH SECOND WATCH THIRD WATCH HUNTSMAN LIEUTENANT at the Tower of London FIRST MESSENGER SECOND MESSENGER Other MESSENGERS MAYOR of York SOLDIER Soldiers, Servants, Attendants, Drummers, Trumpeters, Sir Hugh Mortimer, Henry, Earl of Richmond, Aldermen of York, Mayor of Coventry, Nurse, the infant prince, and Others ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Alarum. Enter Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York; Edward; Richard; Norfolk; Montague; Warwick; and Soldiers, all wearing the white rose.] WARWICK I wonder how the King escaped our hands. YORK While we pursued the horsemen of the north, He slyly stole away and left his men; Whereat the great lord of Northumberland, Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat, Cheered up the drooping army; and himself, Lord Clifford, and Lord Stafford, all abreast, Charged our main battle's front and, breaking in, Were by the swords of common soldiers slain. EDWARD Lord Stafford's father, Duke of Buckingham, Is either slain or wounded dangerous. I cleft his beaver with a downright blow. That this is true, father, behold his blood. [He shows his bloody sword.] MONTAGUE, [to York, showing his sword] And, brother, here's the Earl of Wiltshire's blood, Whom I encountered as the battles joined. RICHARD, [holding up a severed head] Speak thou for me, and tell them what I did. YORK Richard hath best deserved of all my sons. But is your Grace dead, my lord of Somerset? NORFOLK Such hope have all the line of John of Gaunt! RICHARD Thus do I hope to shake King Henry's head. WARWICK And so do I, victorious prince of York. Before I see thee seated in that throne Which now the house of Lancaster usurps, I vow by heaven these eyes shall never close. This is the palace of the fearful king, And this the regal seat. Possess it, York, For this is thine and not King Henry's heirs'. YORK Assist me, then, sweet Warwick, and I will, For hither we have broken in by force. NORFOLK We'll all assist you. He that flies shall die. YORK Thanks, gentle Norfolk. Stay by me, my lords.-- And soldiers, stay and lodge by me this night. [They go up onto a dais or platform.] WARWICK And when the King comes, offer him no violence Unless he seek to thrust you out perforce. [Soldiers exit or retire out of sight.] YORK The Queen this day here holds her parliament, But little thinks we shall be of her council. By words or blows, here let us win our right. RICHARD Armed as we are, let's stay within this house. WARWICK "The Bloody Parliament" shall this be called Unless Plantagenet, Duke of York, be king And bashful Henry deposed, whose cowardice Hath made us bywords to our enemies. YORK Then leave me not, my lords; be resolute. I mean to take possession of my right. WARWICK Neither the King nor he that loves him best, The proudest he that holds up Lancaster, Dares stir a wing if Warwick shake his bells. I'll plant Plantagenet, root him up who dares. Resolve thee, Richard; claim the English crown. [York sits in the chair of state.] [Flourish. Enter King Henry, Clifford, Northumberland, Westmorland, Exeter, and the rest, all wearing the red rose.] KING HENRY My lords, look where the sturdy rebel sits, Even in the chair of state! Belike he means, Backed by the power of Warwick, that false peer, To aspire unto the crown and reign as king. Earl of Northumberland, he slew thy father, And thine, Lord Clifford, and you both have vowed revenge On him, his sons, his favorites, and his friends. NORTHUMBERLAND If I be not, heavens be revenged on me! CLIFFORD The hope thereof makes Clifford mourn in steel. WESTMORLAND What, shall we suffer this? Let's pluck him down. My heart for anger burns. I cannot brook it. KING HENRY Be patient, gentle Earl of Westmorland. CLIFFORD Patience is for poltroons such as he. He durst not sit there had your father lived. My gracious lord, here in the Parliament Let us assail the family of York. NORTHUMBERLAND Well hast thou spoken, cousin. Be it so. KING HENRY Ah, know you not the city favors them, And they have troops of soldiers at their beck? EXETER But when the Duke is slain, they'll quickly fly. KING HENRY Far be the thought of this from Henry's heart, To make a shambles of the Parliament House! Cousin of Exeter, frowns, words, and threats Shall be the war that Henry means to use.-- Thou factious Duke of York, descend my throne And kneel for grace and mercy at my feet. I am thy sovereign. YORK I am thine. EXETER For shame, come down. He made thee Duke of York. YORK It was my inheritance, as the earldom was. EXETER Thy father was a traitor to the crown. WARWICK Exeter, thou art a traitor to the crown In following this usurping Henry. CLIFFORD Whom should he follow but his natural king? WARWICK True, Clifford, that's Richard, Duke of York. KING HENRY, [to York] And shall I stand, and thou sit in my throne? YORK It must and shall be so. Content thyself. WARWICK, [to King Henry] Be Duke of Lancaster. Let him be king. WESTMORLAND He is both king and Duke of Lancaster, And that the lord of Westmorland shall maintain. WARWICK And Warwick shall disprove it. You forget That we are those which chased you from the field And slew your fathers and, with colors spread, Marched through the city to the palace gates. NORTHUMBERLAND Yes, Warwick, I remember it to my grief; And by his soul, thou and thy house shall rue it. WESTMORLAND Plantagenet, of thee and these thy sons, Thy kinsmen, and thy friends, I'll have more lives Than drops of blood were in my father's veins. CLIFFORD Urge it no more, lest that, instead of words, I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger As shall revenge his death before I stir. WARWICK Poor Clifford, how I scorn his worthless threats! YORK Will you we show our title to the crown? If not, our swords shall plead it in the field. KING HENRY What title hast thou, traitor, to the crown? Thy father was as thou art, Duke of York; Thy grandfather, Roger Mortimer, Earl of March. I am the son of Henry the Fifth, Who made the Dauphin and the French to stoop And seized upon their towns and provinces. WARWICK Talk not of France, sith thou hast lost it all. KING HENRY The Lord Protector lost it and not I. When I was crowned, I was but nine months old. RICHARD You are old enough now, and yet, methinks, you lose.-- Father, tear the crown from the usurper's head. EDWARD Sweet father, do so. Set it on your head. MONTAGUE, [to York] Good brother, as thou lov'st and honorest arms, Let's fight it out and not stand caviling thus. RICHARD Sound drums and trumpets, and the King will fly. YORK Sons, peace! KING HENRY Peace thou, and give King Henry leave to speak! WARWICK Plantagenet shall speak first. Hear him, lords, And be you silent and attentive too, For he that interrupts him shall not live. KING HENRY Think'st thou that I will leave my kingly throne, Wherein my grandsire and my father sat? No. First shall war unpeople this my realm; Ay, and their colors, often borne in France, And now in England to our heart's great sorrow, Shall be my winding-sheet. Why faint you, lords? My title's good, and better far than his. WARWICK Prove it, Henry, and thou shalt be king. KING HENRY Henry the Fourth by conquest got the crown. YORK 'Twas by rebellion against his king. KING HENRY, [aside] I know not what to say; my title's weak.-- Tell me, may not a king adopt an heir? YORK What then? KING HENRY An if he may, then am I lawful king; For Richard, in the view of many lords, Resigned the crown to Henry the Fourth, Whose heir my father was, and I am his. YORK He rose against him, being his sovereign, And made him to resign his crown perforce. WARWICK Suppose, my lords, he did it unconstrained, Think you 'twere prejudicial to his crown? EXETER No, for he could not so resign his crown But that the next heir should succeed and reign. KING HENRY Art thou against us, Duke of Exeter? EXETER His is the right, and therefore pardon me. YORK Why whisper you, my lords, and answer not? EXETER My conscience tells me he is lawful king. KING HENRY, [aside] All will revolt from me and turn to him. NORTHUMBERLAND, [to York] Plantagenet, for all the claim thou lay'st, Think not that Henry shall be so deposed. WARWICK Deposed he shall be, in despite of all. NORTHUMBERLAND Thou art deceived. 'Tis not thy southern power Of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, nor of Kent, Which makes thee thus presumptuous and proud, Can set the Duke up in despite of me. CLIFFORD King Henry, be thy title right or wrong, Lord Clifford vows to fight in thy defense. May that ground gape and swallow me alive Where I shall kneel to him that slew my father. KING HENRY O Clifford, how thy words revive my heart! YORK Henry of Lancaster, resign thy crown.-- What mutter you, or what conspire you, lords? WARWICK, [to King Henry] Do right unto this princely Duke of York, Or I will fill the house with armed men, And over the chair of state, where now he sits, Write up his title with usurping blood. [He stamps with his foot, and the Soldiers show themselves.] KING HENRY My lord of Warwick, hear but one word: Let me for this my lifetime reign as king. YORK Confirm the crown to me and to mine heirs, And thou shalt reign in quiet while thou liv'st. KING HENRY I am content. Richard Plantagenet, Enjoy the kingdom after my decease. CLIFFORD What wrong is this unto the Prince your son! WARWICK What good is this to England and himself! WESTMORLAND Base, fearful, and despairing Henry! CLIFFORD How hast thou injured both thyself and us! WESTMORLAND I cannot stay to hear these articles. NORTHUMBERLAND Nor I. CLIFFORD Come, cousin, let us tell the Queen these news. WESTMORLAND Farewell, faint-hearted and degenerate king, In whose cold blood no spark of honor bides. NORTHUMBERLAND Be thou a prey unto the house of York, And die in bands for this unmanly deed. CLIFFORD In dreadful war mayst thou be overcome, Or live in peace abandoned and despised! [Westmorland, Northumberland, Clifford, and their Soldiers exit.] WARWICK Turn this way, Henry, and regard them not. EXETER They seek revenge and therefore will not yield. KING HENRY Ah, Exeter! WARWICK Why should you sigh, my lord? KING HENRY Not for myself, Lord Warwick, but my son, Whom I unnaturally shall disinherit. But be it as it may. [(To York.)] I here entail The crown to thee and to thine heirs forever, Conditionally, that here thou take an oath To cease this civil war and, whilst I live, To honor me as thy king and sovereign, And neither by treason nor hostility To seek to put me down and reign thyself. YORK This oath I willingly take and will perform. WARWICK Long live King Henry! Plantagenet, embrace him. [York stands, and King Henry ascends the dais.] KING HENRY, [to York] And long live thou and these thy forward sons! [They embrace.] YORK Now York and Lancaster are reconciled. EXETER Accursed be he that seeks to make them foes. [Sennet. Here they come down.] YORK, [to King Henry] Farewell, my gracious lord. I'll to my castle. WARWICK And I'll keep London with my soldiers. NORFOLK And I to Norfolk with my followers. MONTAGUE And I unto the sea, from whence I came. [York, Edward, Richard, Warwick, Norfolk, Montague, and their Soldiers exit.] KING HENRY And I with grief and sorrow to the court. [Enter Queen Margaret, with Prince Edward.] EXETER Here comes the Queen, whose looks bewray her anger. I'll steal away. KING HENRY Exeter, so will I. [They begin to exit.] QUEEN MARGARET Nay, go not from me. I will follow thee. KING HENRY Be patient, gentle queen, and I will stay. QUEEN MARGARET Who can be patient in such extremes? Ah, wretched man, would I had died a maid And never seen thee, never borne thee son, Seeing thou hast proved so unnatural a father. Hath he deserved to lose his birthright thus? Hadst thou but loved him half so well as I, Or felt that pain which I did for him once, Or nourished him as I did with my blood, Thou wouldst have left thy dearest heart-blood there, Rather than have made that savage duke thine heir And disinherited thine only son. PRINCE EDWARD Father, you cannot disinherit me. If you be king, why should not I succeed? KING HENRY Pardon me, Margaret.--Pardon me, sweet son. The Earl of Warwick and the Duke enforced me. QUEEN MARGARET Enforced thee? Art thou king and wilt be forced? I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous wretch, Thou hast undone thyself, thy son, and me, And giv'n unto the house of York such head As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance! To entail him and his heirs unto the crown, What is it but to make thy sepulcher And creep into it far before thy time? Warwick is Chancellor and the lord of Callice; Stern Falconbridge commands the Narrow Seas; The Duke is made Protector of the realm; And yet shalt thou be safe? Such safety finds The trembling lamb environed with wolves. Had I been there, which am a silly woman, The soldiers should have tossed me on their pikes Before I would have granted to that act. But thou preferr'st thy life before thine honor. And seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed, Until that act of Parliament be repealed Whereby my son is disinherited. The northern lords that have forsworn thy colors Will follow mine if once they see them spread; And spread they shall be, to thy foul disgrace And utter ruin of the house of York. Thus do I leave thee.--Come, son, let's away. Our army is ready. Come, we'll after them. KING HENRY Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak. QUEEN MARGARET Thou hast spoke too much already. Get thee gone. KING HENRY Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with me? QUEEN MARGARET Ay, to be murdered by his enemies! PRINCE EDWARD When I return with victory from the field, I'll see your Grace. Till then, I'll follow her. QUEEN MARGARET Come, son, away. We may not linger thus. [Queen Margaret and Prince Edward exit.] KING HENRY Poor queen! How love to me and to her son Hath made her break out into terms of rage! Revenged may she be on that hateful duke, Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire, Will cost my crown, and like an empty eagle Tire on the flesh of me and of my son. The loss of those three lords torments my heart. I'll write unto them and entreat them fair. Come, cousin, you shall be the messenger. EXETER And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all. [Flourish. They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Richard, Edward, and Montague, all wearing the white rose.] RICHARD Brother, though I be youngest, give me leave. EDWARD No, I can better play the orator. MONTAGUE But I have reasons strong and forcible. [Enter the Duke of York.] YORK Why, how now, sons and brother, at a strife? What is your quarrel? How began it first? EDWARD No quarrel, but a slight contention. YORK About what? RICHARD About that which concerns your Grace and us: The crown of England, father, which is yours. YORK Mine, boy? Not till King Henry be dead. RICHARD Your right depends not on his life or death. EDWARD Now you are heir; therefore enjoy it now. By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breathe, It will outrun you, father, in the end. YORK I took an oath that he should quietly reign. EDWARD But for a kingdom any oath may be broken. I would break a thousand oaths to reign one year. RICHARD No, God forbid your Grace should be forsworn. YORK I shall be, if I claim by open war. RICHARD I'll prove the contrary, if you'll hear me speak. YORK Thou canst not, son; it is impossible. RICHARD An oath is of no moment, being not took Before a true and lawful magistrate That hath authority over him that swears. Henry had none, but did usurp the place. Then, seeing 'twas he that made you to depose, Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous. Therefore, to arms! And, father, do but think How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown, Within whose circuit is Elysium And all that poets feign of bliss and joy. Why do we linger thus? I cannot rest Until the white rose that I wear be dyed Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart. YORK Richard, enough. I will be king or die.-- Brother, thou shalt to London presently, And whet on Warwick to this enterprise.-- Thou, Richard, shalt to the Duke of Norfolk And tell him privily of our intent.-- You, Edward, shall unto my Lord Cobham, With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise; In them I trust, for they are soldiers Witty, courteous, liberal, full of spirit. While you are thus employed, what resteth more But that I seek occasion how to rise, And yet the King not privy to my drift, Nor any of the house of Lancaster. [Enter a Messenger.] But stay, what news? Why com'st thou in such post? MESSENGER The Queen with all the northern earls and lords Intend here to besiege you in your castle. She is hard by with twenty thousand men. And therefore fortify your hold, my lord. [He exits.] YORK Ay, with my sword. What, think'st thou that we fear them?-- Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me; My brother Montague shall post to London. Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest, Whom we have left Protectors of the King, With powerful policy strengthen themselves And trust not simple Henry nor his oaths. MONTAGUE Brother, I go. I'll win them, fear it not. And thus most humbly I do take my leave. [Montague exits.] [Enter Sir John Mortimer, and his brother, Sir Hugh Mortimer.] YORK Sir John and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine uncles, You are come to Sandal in a happy hour. The army of the Queen mean to besiege us. SIR JOHN She shall not need; we'll meet her in the field. YORK What, with five thousand men? RICHARD Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need. A woman's general; what should we fear? [A march afar off.] EDWARD I hear their drums. Let's set our men in order, And issue forth and bid them battle straight. YORK Five men to twenty: though the odds be great, I doubt not, uncle, of our victory. Many a battle have I won in France Whenas the enemy hath been ten to one. Why should I not now have the like success? [Alarum. They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Rutland and his Tutor.] RUTLAND Ah, whither shall I fly to scape their hands? [Enter Clifford with Soldiers, all wearing the red rose.] Ah, tutor, look where bloody Clifford comes. CLIFFORD Chaplain, away. Thy priesthood saves thy life. As for the brat of this accursed duke, Whose father slew my father, he shall die. TUTOR And I, my lord, will bear him company. CLIFFORD Soldiers, away with him. TUTOR Ah, Clifford, murder not this innocent child, Lest thou be hated both of God and man. [He exits, dragged off by Soldiers.] CLIFFORD, [approaching Rutland] How now? Is he dead already? Or is it fear That makes him close his eyes? I'll open them. RUTLAND So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch That trembles under his devouring paws; And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey; And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder. Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword And not with such a cruel threat'ning look. Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die. I am too mean a subject for thy wrath. Be thou revenged on men, and let me live. CLIFFORD In vain thou speak'st, poor boy. My father's blood Hath stopped the passage where thy words should enter. RUTLAND Then let my father's blood open it again; He is a man and, Clifford, cope with him. CLIFFORD Had I thy brethren here, their lives and thine Were not revenge sufficient for me. No, if I digged up thy forefathers' graves And hung their rotten coffins up in chains, It could not slake mine ire nor ease my heart. The sight of any of the house of York Is as a fury to torment my soul, And till I root out their accursed line And leave not one alive, I live in hell. Therefore-- [He raises his rapier.] RUTLAND O, let me pray before I take my death! To thee I pray: sweet Clifford, pity me! CLIFFORD Such pity as my rapier's point affords. RUTLAND I never did thee harm. Why wilt thou slay me? CLIFFORD Thy father hath. RUTLAND But 'twas ere I was born. Thou hast one son; for his sake pity me, Lest in revenge thereof, sith God is just, He be as miserably slain as I. Ah, let me live in prison all my days, And when I give occasion of offense Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause. CLIFFORD No cause? Thy father slew my father; therefore die. [He stabs Rutland.] RUTLAND Di faciant laudis summa sit ista tuae! [He dies.] CLIFFORD Plantagenet, I come, Plantagenet! And this thy son's blood, cleaving to my blade, Shall rust upon my weapon till thy blood, Congealed with this, do make me wipe off both. [He exits, with Soldiers carrying off Rutland's body.] Scene 4 ======= [Alarum. Enter Richard, Duke of York, wearing the white rose.] YORK The army of the Queen hath got the field. My uncles both are slain in rescuing me; And all my followers to the eager foe Turn back and fly like ships before the wind, Or lambs pursued by hunger-starved wolves. My sons, God knows what hath bechanced them; But this I know: they have demeaned themselves Like men borne to renown by life or death. Three times did Richard make a lane to me And thrice cried "Courage, father, fight it out!" And full as oft came Edward to my side, With purple falchion painted to the hilt In blood of those that had encountered him; And when the hardiest warriors did retire, Richard cried "Charge, and give no foot of ground!" And cried "A crown or else a glorious tomb; A scepter or an earthly sepulcher!" With this we charged again; but, out alas, We budged again, as I have seen a swan With bootless labor swim against the tide And spend her strength with over-matching waves. [A short alarum within.] Ah, hark, the fatal followers do pursue, And I am faint and cannot fly their fury; And were I strong, I would not shun their fury. The sands are numbered that makes up my life. Here must I stay, and here my life must end. [Enter Queen Margaret, Clifford, Northumberland, the young Prince Edward, and Soldiers, all wearing the red rose.] Come, bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland, I dare your quenchless fury to more rage. I am your butt, and I abide your shot. NORTHUMBERLAND Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet. CLIFFORD Ay, to such mercy as his ruthless arm With downright payment showed unto my father. Now Phaeton hath tumbled from his car And made an evening at the noontide prick. YORK My ashes, as the Phoenix', may bring forth A bird that will revenge upon you all; And in that hope I throw mine eyes to heaven, Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with. Why come you not? What, multitudes, and fear? CLIFFORD So cowards fight when they can fly no further; So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons; So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives, Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers. YORK O Clifford, but bethink thee once again And in thy thought o'errun my former time; And, if thou canst for blushing, view this face And bite thy tongue that slanders him with cowardice Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this. CLIFFORD I will not bandy with thee word for word, But buckler with thee blows twice two for one. QUEEN MARGARET Hold, valiant Clifford, for a thousand causes I would prolong a while the traitor's life.-- Wrath makes him deaf; speak thou, Northumberland. NORTHUMBERLAND Hold, Clifford, do not honor him so much To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart. What valor were it when a cur doth grin For one to thrust his hand between his teeth, When he might spurn him with his foot away? It is war's prize to take all vantages, And ten to one is no impeach of valor. [They attack York.] CLIFFORD Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin. NORTHUMBERLAND So doth the coney struggle in the net. YORK So triumph thieves upon their conquered booty; So true men yield with robbers, so o'ermatched. [York is overcome.] NORTHUMBERLAND, [to Queen Margaret] What would your Grace have done unto him now? QUEEN MARGARET Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland, Come, make him stand upon this molehill here That raught at mountains with outstretched arms, Yet parted but the shadow with his hand. [They place York on a small prominence.] What, was it you that would be England's king? Was 't you that reveled in our parliament And made a preachment of your high descent? Where are your mess of sons to back you now, The wanton Edward and the lusty George? And where's that valiant crookback prodigy, Dickie, your boy, that with his grumbling voice Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies? Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland? Look, York, I stained this napkin with the blood That valiant Clifford with his rapier's point Made issue from the bosom of the boy; And if thine eyes can water for his death, I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal. [She gives him a bloody cloth.] Alas, poor York, but that I hate thee deadly I should lament thy miserable state. I prithee grieve to make me merry, York. What, hath thy fiery heart so parched thine entrails That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death? Why art thou patient, man? Thou shouldst be mad; And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus. Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance. Thou would'st be fee'd, I see, to make me sport.-- York cannot speak unless he wear a crown. A crown for York! [She is handed a paper crown.] And, lords, bow low to him. Hold you his hands whilst I do set it on. [She puts the crown on York's head.] Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king. Ay, this is he that took King Henry's chair, And this is he was his adopted heir. But how is it that great Plantagenet Is crowned so soon and broke his solemn oath?-- As I bethink me, you should not be king Till our King Henry had shook hands with Death. And will you pale your head in Henry's glory And rob his temples of the diadem Now, in his life, against your holy oath? O, 'tis a fault too too unpardonable. Off with the crown and, with the crown, his head; And whilst we breathe, take time to do him dead. CLIFFORD That is my office, for my father's sake. QUEEN MARGARET Nay, stay, let's hear the orisons he makes. YORK She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France, Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's tooth: How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex To triumph like an Amazonian trull Upon their woes whom Fortune captivates. But that thy face is vizard-like, unchanging, Made impudent with use of evil deeds, I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush. To tell thee whence thou cam'st, of whom derived, Were shame enough to shame thee, wert thou not shameless. Thy father bears the type of King of Naples, Of both the Sicils, and Jerusalem, Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman. Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult? It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud queen, Unless the adage must be verified That beggars mounted run their horse to death. 'Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud, But God He knows thy share thereof is small. 'Tis virtue that doth make them most admired; The contrary doth make thee wondered at. 'Tis government that makes them seem divine; The want thereof makes thee abominable. Thou art as opposite to every good As the Antipodes are unto us Or as the south to the Septentrion. O, tiger's heart wrapped in a woman's hide, How couldst thou drain the lifeblood of the child To bid the father wipe his eyes withal, And yet be seen to bear a woman's face? Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and flexible; Thou, stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless. Bidd'st thou me rage? Why, now thou hast thy wish. Wouldst have me weep? Why, now thou hast thy will; For raging wind blows up incessant showers, And when the rage allays, the rain begins. These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies, And every drop cries vengeance for his death 'Gainst thee, fell Clifford, and thee, false Frenchwoman! NORTHUMBERLAND, [aside] Beshrew me, but his passions moves me so That hardly can I check my eyes from tears. YORK That face of his the hungry cannibals Would not have touched, would not have stained with blood; But you are more inhuman, more inexorable, O, ten times more than tigers of Hyrcania. See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears. This cloth thou dipped'st in blood of my sweet boy, And I with tears do wash the blood away. [He hands her the cloth.] Keep thou the napkin and go boast of this; And if thou tell'st the heavy story right, Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears. Yea, even my foes will shed fast-falling tears And say "Alas, it was a piteous deed." [He hands her the paper crown.] There, take the crown and, with the crown, my curse, And in thy need such comfort come to thee As now I reap at thy too cruel hand.-- Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the world, My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads. NORTHUMBERLAND Had he been slaughterman to all my kin, I should not for my life but weep with him To see how inly sorrow gripes his soul. QUEEN MARGARET What, weeping ripe, my Lord Northumberland? Think but upon the wrong he did us all, And that will quickly dry thy melting tears. CLIFFORD, [stabbing York twice] Here's for my oath; here's for my father's death! QUEEN MARGARET, [stabbing York] And here's to right our gentle-hearted king. YORK Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God. My soul flies through these wounds to seek out Thee. [He dies.] QUEEN MARGARET Off with his head, and set it on York gates, So York may overlook the town of York. [Flourish. They exit, Soldiers carrying York's body.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [A march. Enter Edward, Richard, and their power, all wearing the white rose.] EDWARD I wonder how our princely father scaped, Or whether he be scaped away or no From Clifford's and Northumberland's pursuit. Had he been ta'en, we should have heard the news; Had he been slain, we should have heard the news; Or had he scaped, methinks we should have heard The happy tidings of his good escape. How fares my brother? Why is he so sad? RICHARD I cannot joy until I be resolved Where our right valiant father is become. I saw him in the battle range about And watched him how he singled Clifford forth. Methought he bore him in the thickest troop As doth a lion in a herd of neat, Or as a bear encompassed round with dogs, Who having pinched a few and made them cry, The rest stand all aloof and bark at him; So fared our father with his enemies; So fled his enemies my warlike father. Methinks 'tis prize enough to be his son. See how the morning opes her golden gates And takes her farewell of the glorious sun. How well resembles it the prime of youth, Trimmed like a younker, prancing to his love! EDWARD Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three suns? RICHARD Three glorious suns, each one a perfect sun, Not separated with the racking clouds But severed in a pale clear-shining sky. See, see, they join, embrace, and seem to kiss, As if they vowed some league inviolable. Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun; In this, the heaven figures some event. EDWARD 'Tis wondrous strange, the like yet never heard of. I think it cites us, brother, to the field, That we, the sons of brave Plantagenet, Each one already blazing by our meeds, Should notwithstanding join our lights together And overshine the earth, as this the world. Whate'er it bodes, henceforward will I bear Upon my target three fair shining suns. RICHARD Nay, bear three daughters: by your leave I speak it, You love the breeder better than the male. [Enter a Messenger, blowing.] But what art thou whose heavy looks foretell Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue? MESSENGER Ah, one that was a woeful looker-on Whenas the noble Duke of York was slain, Your princely father and my loving lord. EDWARD O, speak no more, for I have heard too much! RICHARD Say how he died, for I will hear it all. MESSENGER Environed he was with many foes, And stood against them, as the hope of Troy Against the Greeks that would have entered Troy. But Hercules himself must yield to odds; And many strokes, though with a little axe, Hews down and fells the hardest-timbered oak. By many hands your father was subdued, But only slaughtered by the ireful arm Of unrelenting Clifford and the Queen, Who crowned the gracious duke in high despite, Laughed in his face; and when with grief he wept, The ruthless queen gave him to dry his cheeks A napkin steeped in the harmless blood Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slain. And after many scorns, many foul taunts, They took his head and on the gates of York They set the same, and there it doth remain, The saddest spectacle that e'er I viewed. [He exits.] EDWARD Sweet Duke of York, our prop to lean upon, Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay. O Clifford, boist'rous Clifford, thou hast slain The flower of Europe for his chivalry; And treacherously hast thou vanquished him, For hand to hand he would have vanquished thee. Now my soul's palace is become a prison; Ah, would she break from hence, that this my body Might in the ground be closed up in rest, For never henceforth shall I joy again. Never, O never, shall I see more joy! [He weeps.] RICHARD I cannot weep, for all my body's moisture Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart; Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great burden, For selfsame wind that I should speak withal Is kindling coals that fires all my breast And burns me up with flames that tears would quench. To weep is to make less the depth of grief: Tears, then, for babes; blows and revenge for me. Richard, I bear thy name. I'll venge thy death Or die renowned by attempting it. EDWARD His name that valiant duke hath left with thee; His dukedom and his chair with me is left. RICHARD Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's bird, Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun; For "chair" and "dukedom," "throne" and "kingdom" say; Either that is thine or else thou wert not his. [March. Enter Warwick, Marquess Montague, and their army, all wearing the white rose.] WARWICK How now, fair lords? What fare, what news abroad? RICHARD Great lord of Warwick, if we should recount Our baleful news, and at each word's deliverance Stab poniards in our flesh till all were told, The words would add more anguish than the wounds. O valiant lord, the Duke of York is slain. EDWARD O Warwick, Warwick, that Plantagenet Which held thee dearly as his soul's redemption Is by the stern Lord Clifford done to death. WARWICK Ten days ago I drowned these news in tears. And now to add more measure to your woes, I come to tell you things sith then befall'n. After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought, Where your brave father breathed his latest gasp, Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run, Were brought me of your loss and his depart. I, then in London, keeper of the King, Mustered my soldiers, gathered flocks of friends, Marched toward Saint Albans to intercept the Queen, Bearing the King in my behalf along; For by my scouts I was advertised That she was coming with a full intent To dash our late decree in Parliament Touching King Henry's oath and your succession. Short tale to make, we at Saint Albans met, Our battles joined, and both sides fiercely fought. But whether 'twas the coldness of the King, Who looked full gently on his warlike queen, That robbed my soldiers of their heated spleen, Or whether 'twas report of her success Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigor, Who thunders to his captives blood and death, I cannot judge; but to conclude with truth, Their weapons like to lightning came and went; Our soldiers', like the night owl's lazy flight Or like an idle thresher with a flail, Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends. I cheered them up with justice of our cause, With promise of high pay and great rewards, But all in vain; they had no heart to fight, And we, in them, no hope to win the day, So that we fled: the King unto the Queen; Lord George your brother, Norfolk, and myself In haste, posthaste, are come to join with you; For in the Marches here we heard you were, Making another head to fight again. EDWARD Where is the Duke of Norfolk, gentle Warwick? And when came George from Burgundy to England? WARWICK Some six miles off the Duke is with the soldiers, And, for your brother, he was lately sent From your kind aunt, Duchess of Burgundy, With aid of soldiers to this needful war. RICHARD 'Twas odds, belike, when valiant Warwick fled. Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit, But ne'er till now his scandal of retire. WARWICK Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou hear? For thou shalt know this strong right hand of mine Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry's head And wring the awful scepter from his fist, Were he as famous and as bold in war As he is famed for mildness, peace, and prayer. RICHARD I know it well, Lord Warwick; blame me not. 'Tis love I bear thy glories make me speak. But in this troublous time, what's to be done? Shall we go throw away our coats of steel And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns, Numb'ring our Ave Marys with our beads? Or shall we on the helmets of our foes Tell our devotion with revengeful arms? If for the last, say "Ay," and to it, lords. WARWICK Why, therefore Warwick came to seek you out, And therefore comes my brother Montague. Attend me, lords: the proud insulting queen, With Clifford and the haught Northumberland And of their feather many more proud birds, Have wrought the easy-melting king like wax. He swore consent to your succession, His oath enrolled in the Parliament. And now to London all the crew are gone To frustrate both his oath and what beside May make against the house of Lancaster. Their power, I think, is thirty thousand strong. Now, if the help of Norfolk and myself, With all the friends that thou, brave Earl of March, Amongst the loving Welshmen canst procure, Will but amount to five and twenty thousand, Why, via, to London will we march, And once again bestride our foaming steeds, And once again cry "Charge!" upon our foes, But never once again turn back and fly. RICHARD Ay, now methinks I hear great Warwick speak. Ne'er may he live to see a sunshine day That cries "Retire!" if Warwick bid him stay. EDWARD Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I lean, And when thou fail'st--as God forbid the hour!-- Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forfend. WARWICK No longer Earl of March, but Duke of York; The next degree is England's royal throne: For King of England shalt thou be proclaimed In every borough as we pass along, And he that throws not up his cap for joy Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head. King Edward, valiant Richard, Montague, Stay we no longer dreaming of renown, But sound the trumpets and about our task. RICHARD Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard as steel, As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds, I come to pierce it or to give thee mine. EDWARD Then strike up drums! God and Saint George for us! [Enter a Messenger.] WARWICK How now, what news? MESSENGER The Duke of Norfolk sends you word by me, The Queen is coming with a puissant host, And craves your company for speedy counsel. WARWICK Why, then it sorts. Brave warriors, let's away! [They all exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Flourish. Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, Clifford, Northumberland, and young Prince Edward, all wearing the red rose with Drum and Trumpets, the head of York fixed above them.] QUEEN MARGARET, [to King Henry] Welcome, my lord, to this brave town of York. Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy That sought to be encompassed with your crown. Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord? KING HENRY Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear their wrack! To see this sight, it irks my very soul. Withhold revenge, dear God! 'Tis not my fault, Nor wittingly have I infringed my vow. CLIFFORD My gracious liege, this too much lenity And harmful pity must be laid aside. To whom do lions cast their gentle looks? Not to the beast that would usurp their den. Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick? Not his that spoils her young before her face. Who scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting? Not he that sets his foot upon her back. The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on, And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood. Ambitious York did level at thy crown, Thou smiling while he knit his angry brows. He, but a duke, would have his son a king And raise his issue like a loving sire; Thou being a king, blest with a goodly son, Didst yield consent to disinherit him, Which argued thee a most unloving father. Unreasonable creatures feed their young; And though man's face be fearful to their eyes, Yet in protection of their tender ones, Who hath not seen them, even with those wings Which sometime they have used with fearful flight, Make war with him that climbed unto their nest, Offering their own lives in their young's defense? For shame, my liege, make them your precedent. Were it not pity that this goodly boy Should lose his birthright by his father's fault, And long hereafter say unto his child "What my great-grandfather and grandsire got, My careless father fondly gave away"? Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy, And let his manly face, which promiseth Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart To hold thine own and leave thine own with him. KING HENRY Full well hath Clifford played the orator, Inferring arguments of mighty force. But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear That things ill got had ever bad success? And happy always was it for that son Whose father for his hoarding went to hell? I'll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind, And would my father had left me no more; For all the rest is held at such a rate As brings a thousandfold more care to keep Than in possession any jot of pleasure. Ah, cousin York, would thy best friends did know How it doth grieve me that thy head is here. QUEEN MARGARET My lord, cheer up your spirits; our foes are nigh, And this soft courage makes your followers faint. You promised knighthood to our forward son. Unsheathe your sword and dub him presently.-- Edward, kneel down. [He kneels.] KING HENRY, [dubbing him knight] Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight, And learn this lesson: draw thy sword in right. PRINCE EDWARD, [rising] My gracious father, by your kingly leave, I'll draw it as apparent to the crown And in that quarrel use it to the death. CLIFFORD Why, that is spoken like a toward prince. [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER Royal commanders, be in readiness, For with a band of thirty thousand men Comes Warwick backing of the Duke of York, And in the towns as they do march along Proclaims him king, and many fly to him. Deraign your battle, for they are at hand. [He exits.] CLIFFORD I would your Highness would depart the field. The Queen hath best success when you are absent. QUEEN MARGARET Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our fortune. KING HENRY Why, that's my fortune too; therefore I'll stay. NORTHUMBERLAND Be it with resolution, then, to fight. PRINCE EDWARD My royal father, cheer these noble lords And hearten those that fight in your defense. Unsheathe your sword, good father; cry "Saint George!" [March. Enter Edward, Warwick, Richard, George, Norfolk, Montague, and Soldiers, all wearing the white rose.] EDWARD Now, perjured Henry, wilt thou kneel for grace And set thy diadem upon my head, Or bide the mortal fortune of the field? QUEEN MARGARET Go rate thy minions, proud insulting boy. Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms Before thy sovereign and thy lawful king? EDWARD I am his king, and he should bow his knee. I was adopted heir by his consent. Since when, his oath is broke; for, as I hear, You that are king, though he do wear the crown, Have caused him, by new act of Parliament, To blot out me and put his own son in. CLIFFORD And reason too: Who should succeed the father but the son? RICHARD Are you there, butcher? O, I cannot speak! CLIFFORD Ay, crookback, here I stand to answer thee, Or any he, the proudest of thy sort. RICHARD 'Twas you that killed young Rutland, was it not? CLIFFORD Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied. RICHARD For God's sake, lords, give signal to the fight! WARWICK What sayst thou, Henry? Wilt thou yield the crown? QUEEN MARGARET Why, how now, long-tongued Warwick, dare you speak? When you and I met at Saint Albans last, Your legs did better service than your hands. WARWICK Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now 'tis thine. CLIFFORD You said so much before, and yet you fled. WARWICK 'Twas not your valor, Clifford, drove me thence. NORTHUMBERLAND No, nor your manhood that durst make you stay. RICHARD Northumberland, I hold thee reverently.-- Break off the parley, for scarce I can refrain The execution of my big-swoll'n heart Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer. CLIFFORD I slew thy father; call'st thou him a child? RICHARD Ay, like a dastard and a treacherous coward, As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland. But ere sunset I'll make thee curse the deed. KING HENRY Have done with words, my lords, and hear me speak. QUEEN MARGARET Defy them, then, or else hold close thy lips. KING HENRY I prithee, give no limits to my tongue. I am a king and privileged to speak. CLIFFORD My liege, the wound that bred this meeting here Cannot be cured by words; therefore, be still. RICHARD Then, executioner, unsheathe thy sword. By Him that made us all, I am resolved That Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue. EDWARD Say, Henry, shall I have my right or no? A thousand men have broke their fasts today That ne'er shall dine unless thou yield the crown. WARWICK If thou deny, their blood upon thy head, For York in justice puts his armor on. PRINCE EDWARD If that be right which Warwick says is right, There is no wrong, but everything is right. RICHARD Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands, For well I wot thou hast thy mother's tongue. QUEEN MARGARET But thou art neither like thy sire nor dam, But like a foul misshapen stigmatic, Marked by the Destinies to be avoided, As venom toads or lizards' dreadful stings. RICHARD Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt, Whose father bears the title of a king, As if a channel should be called the sea, Sham'st thou not, knowing whence thou art extraught, To let thy tongue detect thy baseborn heart? EDWARD A wisp of straw were worth a thousand crowns To make this shameless callet know herself.-- Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou, Although thy husband may be Menelaus; And ne'er was Agamemnon's brother wronged By that false woman as this king by thee. His father reveled in the heart of France, And tamed the King, and made the Dauphin stoop; And had he matched according to his state, He might have kept that glory to this day. But when he took a beggar to his bed And graced thy poor sire with his bridal day, Even then that sunshine brewed a shower for him That washed his father's fortunes forth of France And heaped sedition on his crown at home. For what hath broached this tumult but thy pride? Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept, And we, in pity of the gentle king, Had slipped our claim until another age. GEORGE But when we saw our sunshine made thy spring, And that thy summer bred us no increase, We set the axe to thy usurping root; And though the edge hath something hit ourselves, Yet know thou, since we have begun to strike, We'll never leave till we have hewn thee down Or bathed thy growing with our heated bloods. EDWARD And in this resolution, I defy thee, Not willing any longer conference, Since thou denied'st the gentle king to speak.-- Sound, trumpets! Let our bloody colors wave; And either victory or else a grave! QUEEN MARGARET Stay, Edward! EDWARD No, wrangling woman, we'll no longer stay. These words will cost ten thousand lives this day. [They all exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Alarum. Excursions. Enter Warwick, wearing the white rose.] WARWICK, [lying down] Forspent with toil, as runners with a race, I lay me down a little while to breathe, For strokes received and many blows repaid Have robbed my strong-knit sinews of their strength; And spite of spite, needs must I rest awhile. [Enter Edward, wearing the white rose, running.] EDWARD Smile, gentle heaven, or strike, ungentle death, For this world frowns and Edward's sun is clouded. [Enter George, wearing the white rose.] WARWICK, [standing] How now, my lord, what hap? What hope of good? GEORGE Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair; Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us. What counsel give you? Whither shall we fly? EDWARD Bootless is flight; they follow us with wings, And weak we are and cannot shun pursuit. [Enter Richard, wearing the white rose.] RICHARD Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn thyself? Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk, Broached with the steely point of Clifford's lance, And in the very pangs of death he cried, Like to a dismal clangor heard from far, "Warwick, revenge! Brother, revenge my death!" So, underneath the belly of their steeds, That stained their fetlocks in his smoking blood, The noble gentleman gave up the ghost. WARWICK Then let the earth be drunken with our blood! I'll kill my horse because I will not fly. Why stand we like soft-hearted women here, Wailing our losses whiles the foe doth rage, And look upon, as if the tragedy Were played in jest by counterfeiting actors? [He kneels.] Here on my knee I vow to God above I'll never pause again, never stand still, Till either death hath closed these eyes of mine Or Fortune given me measure of revenge. EDWARD O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine, And in this vow do chain my soul to thine [He kneels.] And, ere my knee rise from the Earth's cold face, I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to Thee, Thou setter up and plucker down of kings, Beseeching Thee, if with Thy will it stands That to my foes this body must be prey, Yet that Thy brazen gates of heaven may ope And give sweet passage to my sinful soul. [Edward and Warwick stand.] Now, lords, take leave until we meet again, Where'er it be, in heaven or in Earth. RICHARD Brother, give me thy hand.--And, gentle Warwick, Let me embrace thee in my weary arms. I that did never weep now melt with woe That winter should cut off our springtime so. WARWICK Away, away! Once more, sweet lords, farewell. GEORGE Yet let us all together to our troops And give them leave to fly that will not stay, And call them pillars that will stand to us; And, if we thrive, promise them such rewards As victors wear at the Olympian Games. This may plant courage in their quailing breasts, For yet is hope of life and victory. Forslow no longer; make we hence amain. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Excursions. Enter, at separate doors, Richard wearing the white rose, and Clifford, wearing the red rose.] RICHARD Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone. Suppose this arm is for the Duke of York, And this for Rutland, both bound to revenge, Wert thou environed with a brazen wall. CLIFFORD Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone. This is the hand that stabbed thy father York, And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland, And here's the heart that triumphs in their death And cheers these hands that slew thy sire and brother To execute the like upon thyself. And so, have at thee! [They fight; Warwick comes; Clifford flies.] RICHARD Nay, Warwick, single out some other chase, For I myself will hunt this wolf to death. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Alarum. Enter King Henry alone, wearing the red rose.] KING HENRY This battle fares like to the morning's war, When dying clouds contend with growing light, What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, Can neither call it perfect day nor night. Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea Forced by the tide to combat with the wind; Now sways it that way, like the selfsame sea Forced to retire by fury of the wind. Sometime the flood prevails, and then the wind; Now one the better, then another best, Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast, Yet neither conqueror nor conquered. So is the equal poise of this fell war. Here on this molehill will I sit me down. [He sits on a small prominence.] To whom God will, there be the victory; For Margaret my queen and Clifford too Have chid me from the battle, swearing both They prosper best of all when I am thence. Would I were dead, if God's good will were so, For what is in this world but grief and woe? O God! Methinks it were a happy life To be no better than a homely swain, To sit upon a hill as I do now, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes how they run: How many makes the hour full complete, How many hours brings about the day, How many days will finish up the year, How many years a mortal man may live. When this is known, then to divide the times: So many hours must I tend my flock, So many hours must I take my rest, So many hours must I contemplate, So many hours must I sport myself, So many days my ewes have been with young, So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean, So many years ere I shall shear the fleece; So minutes, hours, days, months, and years, Passed over to the end they were created, Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. Ah, what a life were this! How sweet, how lovely! Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade To shepherds looking on their silly sheep Than doth a rich embroidered canopy To kings that fear their subjects' treachery? O yes, it doth, a thousandfold it doth. And to conclude, the shepherd's homely curds, His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, Is far beyond a prince's delicates-- His viands sparkling in a golden cup, His body couched in a curious bed-- When care, mistrust, and treason waits on him. [Alarum. Enter at one door a Son that hath killed his Father, carrying the body.] SON Ill blows the wind that profits nobody. This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight, May be possessed with some store of crowns, And I, that haply take them from him now, May yet ere night yield both my life and them To some man else, as this dead man doth me. Who's this? O God! It is my father's face, Whom in this conflict I unwares have killed. O heavy times, begetting such events! From London by the King was I pressed forth. My father, being the Earl of Warwick's man, Came on the part of York, pressed by his master. And I, who at his hands received my life, Have by my hands of life bereaved him. Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did; And pardon, father, for I knew not thee. My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks, And no more words till they have flowed their fill. [He weeps.] KING HENRY O piteous spectacle! O bloody times! Whiles lions war and battle for their dens, Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity. Weep, wretched man. I'll aid thee tear for tear, And let our hearts and eyes, like civil war, Be blind with tears and break, o'ercharged with grief. [Enter at another door a Father that hath killed his Son, bearing of his Son's body.] FATHER Thou that so stoutly hath resisted me, Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold, For I have bought it with an hundred blows. But let me see: is this our foeman's face? Ah, no, no, no, it is mine only son! Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee, Throw up thine eye! See, see, what showers arise, Blown with the windy tempest of my heart Upon thy wounds, that kills mine eye and heart! O, pity God this miserable age! What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly, Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural This deadly quarrel daily doth beget! O, boy, thy father gave thee life too soon, And hath bereft thee of thy life too late! KING HENRY Woe above woe, grief more than common grief! O, that my death would stay these ruthful deeds! O pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity! The red rose and the white are on his face, The fatal colors of our striving houses; The one his purple blood right well resembles, The other his pale cheeks methinks presenteth. Wither one rose and let the other flourish; If you contend, a thousand lives must wither. SON How will my mother for a father's death Take on with me and ne'er be satisfied! FATHER How will my wife for slaughter of my son Shed seas of tears and ne'er be satisfied! KING HENRY How will the country for these woeful chances Misthink the King and not be satisfied! SON Was ever son so rued a father's death? FATHER Was ever father so bemoaned his son? KING HENRY Was ever king so grieved for subjects' woe? Much is your sorrow, mine ten times so much. SON I'll bear thee hence, where I may weep my fill. [He exits, bearing the body.] FATHER These arms of mine shall be thy winding-sheet; My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulcher, For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go. My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell; And so obsequious will thy father be E'en for the loss of thee, having no more, As Priam was for all his valiant sons. I'll bear thee hence, and let them fight that will, For I have murdered where I should not kill. [He exits, bearing the body.] KING HENRY Sad-hearted men, much overgone with care, Here sits a king more woeful than you are. [Alarums. Excursions. Enter Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, and Exeter, all wearing the red rose.] PRINCE EDWARD Fly, father, fly, for all your friends are fled, And Warwick rages like a chafed bull. Away, for Death doth hold us in pursuit. QUEEN MARGARET Mount you, my lord; towards Berwick post amain. Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds Having the fearful flying hare in sight, With fiery eyes sparkling for very wrath And bloody steel grasped in their ireful hands, Are at our backs, and therefore hence amain. EXETER Away, for Vengeance comes along with them. Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed; Or else come after; I'll away before. KING HENRY Nay, take me with thee, good sweet Exeter; Not that I fear to stay, but love to go Whither the Queen intends. Forward, away! [They exit.] Scene 6 ======= [A loud alarum. Enter Clifford, wearing the red rose, wounded.] CLIFFORD Here burns my candle out; ay, here it dies, Which whiles it lasted gave King Henry light. O Lancaster, I fear thy overthrow More than my body's parting with my soul! My love and fear glued many friends to thee; And now I fall, thy tough commixtures melts, Impairing Henry, strength'ning misproud York; And whither fly the gnats but to the sun? And who shines now but Henry's enemies? O Phoebus, hadst thou never given consent That Phaeton should check thy fiery steeds, Thy burning car never had scorched the Earth! And Henry, hadst thou swayed as kings should do, Or as thy father and his father did, Giving no ground unto the house of York, They never then had sprung like summer flies; I and ten thousand in this luckless realm Had left no mourning widows for our death, And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace. For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air? And what makes robbers bold but too much lenity? Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds; No way to fly, no strength to hold out flight. The foe is merciless and will not pity, For at their hands I have deserved no pity. The air hath got into my deadly wounds, And much effuse of blood doth make me faint. Come, York and Richard, Warwick and the rest. I stabbed your fathers' bosoms; split my breast. [He faints.] [Alarum and retreat. Enter Edward, Warwick, Richard, and Soldiers, Montague, and George, all wearing the white rose.] EDWARD Now breathe we, lords. Good fortune bids us pause And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks. Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen That led calm Henry, though he were a king, As doth a sail filled with a fretting gust Command an argosy to stem the waves. But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them? WARWICK No, 'tis impossible he should escape, For, though before his face I speak the words, Your brother Richard marked him for the grave, And wheresoe'er he is, he's surely dead. [Clifford groans, and dies.] RICHARD Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave? A deadly groan, like life and death's departing. EDWARD See who it is; and, now the battle's ended, If friend or foe, let him be gently used. RICHARD Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis Clifford, Who not contented that he lopped the branch In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth, But set his murd'ring knife unto the root From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring, I mean our princely father, Duke of York. WARWICK From off the gates of York fetch down the head, Your father's head, which Clifford placed there; Instead whereof let this supply the room. Measure for measure must be answered. EDWARD Bring forth that fatal screech owl to our house That nothing sung but death to us and ours; Now death shall stop his dismal threat'ning sound, And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak. WARWICK I think his understanding is bereft.-- Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to thee?-- Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life, And he nor sees nor hears us what we say. RICHARD O, would he did--and so, perhaps, he doth! 'Tis but his policy to counterfeit, Because he would avoid such bitter taunts Which in the time of death he gave our father. GEORGE If so thou think'st, vex him with eager words. RICHARD Clifford, ask mercy and obtain no grace. EDWARD Clifford, repent in bootless penitence. WARWICK Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults. GEORGE While we devise fell tortures for thy faults. RICHARD Thou didst love York, and I am son to York. EDWARD Thou pitied'st Rutland; I will pity thee. GEORGE Where's Captain Margaret to fence you now? WARWICK They mock thee, Clifford; swear as thou wast wont. RICHARD What, not an oath? Nay, then, the world goes hard When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath. I know by that he's dead; and, by my soul, If this right hand would buy but two hours' life That I in all despite might rail at him, This hand should chop it off, and with the issuing blood Stifle the villain whose unstaunched thirst York and young Rutland could not satisfy. WARWICK Ay, but he's dead. Off with the traitor's head, And rear it in the place your father's stands. And now to London with triumphant march, There to be crowned England's royal king, From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to France And ask the Lady Bona for thy queen; So shalt thou sinew both these lands together, And having France thy friend, thou shalt not dread The scattered foe that hopes to rise again; For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt, Yet look to have them buzz to offend thine ears. First will I see the coronation, And then to Brittany I'll cross the sea To effect this marriage, so it please my lord. EDWARD Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be; For in thy shoulder do I build my seat, And never will I undertake the thing Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting.-- Richard, I will create thee Duke of Gloucester, And George, of Clarence. Warwick as ourself Shall do and undo as him pleaseth best. RICHARD Let me be Duke of Clarence, George of Gloucester, For Gloucester's dukedom is too ominous. WARWICK Tut, that's a foolish observation. Richard, be Duke of Gloucester. Now to London, To see these honors in possession. [They exit, with Clifford's body.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter two Gamekeepers, with crossbows in their hands.] FIRST GAMEKEEPER Under this thick-grown brake we'll shroud ourselves, For through this laund anon the deer will come; And in this covert will we make our stand, Culling the principal of all the deer. SECOND GAMEKEEPER I'll stay above the hill, so both may shoot. FIRST GAMEKEEPER That cannot be. The noise of thy crossbow Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost. Here stand we both, and aim we at the best. And for the time shall not seem tedious, I'll tell thee what befell me on a day In this self place where now we mean to stand. SECOND GAMEKEEPER Here comes a man; let's stay till he be past. [Enter King Henry, in disguise, with a prayer book.] KING HENRY From Scotland am I stol'n, even of pure love, To greet mine own land with my wishful sight. No, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine! Thy place is filled, thy scepter wrung from thee, Thy balm washed off wherewith thou wast anointed. No bending knee will call thee Caesar now, No humble suitors press to speak for right, No, not a man comes for redress of thee; For how can I help them an not myself? FIRST GAMEKEEPER, [aside to Second Gamekeeper] Ay, here's a deer whose skin's a keeper's fee. This is the quondam king. Let's seize upon him. KING HENRY Let me embrace the sour adversaries, For wise men say it is the wisest course. SECOND GAMEKEEPER, [aside to First Gamekeeper] Why linger we? Let us lay hands upon him. FIRST GAMEKEEPER, [aside to Second Gamekeeper] Forbear awhile; we'll hear a little more. KING HENRY My queen and son are gone to France for aid, And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick Is thither gone to crave the French king's sister To wife for Edward. If this news be true, Poor queen and son, your labor is but lost, For Warwick is a subtle orator, And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words. By this account, then, Margaret may win him, For she's a woman to be pitied much. Her sighs will make a batt'ry in his breast, Her tears will pierce into a marble heart. The tiger will be mild whiles she doth mourn, And Nero will be tainted with remorse To hear and see her plaints, her brinish tears. Ay, but she's come to beg, Warwick to give; She on his left side craving aid for Henry; He on his right asking a wife for Edward. She weeps and says her Henry is deposed; He smiles and says his Edward is installed; That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no more, Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the wrong, Inferreth arguments of mighty strength, And in conclusion wins the King from her With promise of his sister and what else To strengthen and support King Edward's place. O Margaret, thus 'twill be, and thou, poor soul, Art then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorn. SECOND GAMEKEEPER Say, what art thou that talk'st of kings and queens? KING HENRY More than I seem, and less than I was born to: A man at least, for less I should not be; And men may talk of kings, and why not I? SECOND GAMEKEEPER Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert a king. KING HENRY Why, so I am in mind, and that's enough. SECOND GAMEKEEPER But if thou be a king, where is thy crown? KING HENRY My crown is in my heart, not on my head; Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones, Nor to be seen. My crown is called content; A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy. SECOND GAMEKEEPER Well, if you be a king crowned with content, Your crown content and you must be contented To go along with us. For, as we think, You are the king King Edward hath deposed; And we his subjects sworn in all allegiance Will apprehend you as his enemy. KING HENRY But did you never swear and break an oath? SECOND GAMEKEEPER No, never such an oath, nor will not now. KING HENRY Where did you dwell when I was King of England? SECOND GAMEKEEPER Here in this country, where we now remain. KING HENRY I was anointed king at nine months old. My father and my grandfather were kings, And you were sworn true subjects unto me. And tell me, then, have you not broke your oaths? FIRST GAMEKEEPER No, for we were subjects but while you were king. KING HENRY Why, am I dead? Do I not breathe a man? Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear. Look as I blow this feather from my face And as the air blows it to me again, Obeying with my wind when I do blow And yielding to another when it blows, Commanded always by the greater gust, Such is the lightness of you common men. But do not break your oaths, for of that sin My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty. Go where you will, the King shall be commanded, And be you kings: command, and I'll obey. FIRST GAMEKEEPER We are true subjects to the King, King Edward. KING HENRY So would you be again to Henry If he were seated as King Edward is. FIRST GAMEKEEPER We charge you in God's name and the King's To go with us unto the officers. KING HENRY In God's name, lead. Your king's name be obeyed, And what God will, that let your king perform. And what he will, I humbly yield unto. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter King Edward, Richard, Duke of Gloucester, George, Duke of Clarence, Lady Grey, and Attendants.] KING EDWARD Brother of Gloucester, at Saint Albans field This lady's husband, Sir Richard Grey, was slain, His land then seized on by the conqueror. Her suit is now to repossess those lands, Which we in justice cannot well deny, Because in quarrel of the house of York The worthy gentleman did lose his life. RICHARD Your Highness shall do well to grant her suit; It were dishonor to deny it her. KING EDWARD It were no less, but yet I'll make a pause. RICHARD, [aside to Clarence] Yea, is it so? I see the lady hath a thing to grant Before the King will grant her humble suit. CLARENCE, [formerly GEORGE, aside to Richard] He knows the game; how true he keeps the wind! RICHARD, [aside to Clarence] Silence! KING EDWARD Widow, we will consider of your suit, And come some other time to know our mind. LADY GREY Right gracious lord, I cannot brook delay. May it please your Highness to resolve me now, And what your pleasure is shall satisfy me. RICHARD, [aside to Clarence] Ay, widow? Then I'll warrant you all your lands, An if what pleases him shall pleasure you. Fight closer, or, good faith, you'll catch a blow. CLARENCE, [aside to Richard] I fear her not, unless she chance to fall. RICHARD, [aside to Clarence] God forbid that, for he'll take vantages. KING EDWARD How many children hast thou, widow? Tell me. CLARENCE, [aside to Richard] I think he means to beg a child of her. RICHARD, [aside to Clarence] Nay, then, whip me; he'll rather give her two. LADY GREY Three, my most gracious lord. RICHARD, [aside to Clarence] You shall have four if you'll be ruled by him. KING EDWARD 'Twere pity they should lose their father's lands. LADY GREY Be pitiful, dread lord, and grant it then. KING EDWARD Lords, give us leave. I'll try this widow's wit. [Richard and Clarence stand aside.] RICHARD, [aside to Clarence] Ay, good leave have you, for you will have leave Till youth take leave and leave you to the crutch. KING EDWARD Now tell me, madam, do you love your children? LADY GREY Ay, full as dearly as I love myself. KING EDWARD And would you not do much to do them good? LADY GREY To do them good I would sustain some harm. KING EDWARD Then get your husband's lands to do them good. LADY GREY Therefore I came unto your Majesty. KING EDWARD I'll tell you how these lands are to be got. LADY GREY So shall you bind me to your Highness' service. KING EDWARD What service wilt thou do me if I give them? LADY GREY What you command that rests in me to do. KING EDWARD But you will take exceptions to my boon. LADY GREY No, gracious lord, except I cannot do it. KING EDWARD Ay, but thou canst do what I mean to ask. LADY GREY Why, then, I will do what your Grace commands. RICHARD, [aside to Clarence] He plies her hard, and much rain wears the marble. CLARENCE, [aside to Richard] As red as fire! Nay, then, her wax must melt. LADY GREY Why stops my lord? Shall I not hear my task? KING EDWARD An easy task; 'tis but to love a king. LADY GREY That's soon performed because I am a subject. KING EDWARD Why, then, thy husband's lands I freely give thee. LADY GREY I take my leave with many thousand thanks. [She curtsies and begins to exit.] RICHARD, [aside to Clarence] The match is made; she seals it with a cursy. KING EDWARD But stay thee; 'tis the fruits of love I mean. LADY GREY The fruits of love I mean, my loving liege. KING EDWARD Ay, but, I fear me, in another sense. What love, think'st thou, I sue so much to get? LADY GREY My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers, That love which virtue begs and virtue grants. KING EDWARD No, by my troth, I did not mean such love. LADY GREY Why, then, you mean not as I thought you did. KING EDWARD But now you partly may perceive my mind. LADY GREY My mind will never grant what I perceive Your Highness aims at, if I aim aright. KING EDWARD To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee. LADY GREY To tell you plain, I had rather lie in prison. KING EDWARD Why, then, thou shalt not have thy husband's lands. LADY GREY Why, then, mine honesty shall be my dower, For by that loss I will not purchase them. KING EDWARD Therein thou wrong'st thy children mightily. LADY GREY Herein your Highness wrongs both them and me. But, mighty lord, this merry inclination Accords not with the sadness of my suit. Please you dismiss me either with ay or no. KING EDWARD Ay, if thou wilt say "ay" to my request; No, if thou dost say "no" to my demand. LADY GREY Then no, my lord; my suit is at an end. RICHARD, [aside to Clarence] The widow likes him not; she knits her brows. CLARENCE, [aside to Richard] He is the bluntest wooer in Christendom. KING EDWARD, [aside] Her looks doth argue her replete with modesty; Her words doth show her wit incomparable; All her perfections challenge sovereignty. One way or other, she is for a king, And she shall be my love or else my queen.-- Say that King Edward take thee for his queen? LADY GREY 'Tis better said than done, my gracious lord. I am a subject fit to jest withal, But far unfit to be a sovereign. KING EDWARD Sweet widow, by my state I swear to thee I speak no more than what my soul intends, And that is, to enjoy thee for my love. LADY GREY And that is more than I will yield unto. I know I am too mean to be your queen And yet too good to be your concubine. KING EDWARD You cavil, widow; I did mean my queen. LADY GREY 'Twill grieve your Grace my sons should call you father. KING EDWARD No more than when my daughters call thee mother. Thou art a widow and thou hast some children, And, by God's mother, I, being but a bachelor, Have other some. Why, 'tis a happy thing To be the father unto many sons. Answer no more, for thou shalt be my queen. RICHARD, [aside to Clarence] The ghostly father now hath done his shrift. CLARENCE, [aside to Richard] When he was made a shriver, 'twas for shift. KING EDWARD Brothers, you muse what chat we two have had. RICHARD The widow likes it not, for she looks very sad. KING EDWARD You'd think it strange if I should marry her. CLARENCE To who, my lord? KING EDWARD Why, Clarence, to myself. RICHARD That would be ten days' wonder at the least. CLARENCE That's a day longer than a wonder lasts. RICHARD By so much is the wonder in extremes. KING EDWARD Well, jest on, brothers. I can tell you both Her suit is granted for her husband's lands. [Enter a Nobleman.] NOBLEMAN My gracious lord, Henry, your foe, is taken And brought your prisoner to your palace gate. KING EDWARD See that he be conveyed unto the Tower. [Nobleman exits.] And go we, brothers, to the man that took him, To question of his apprehension.-- Widow, go you along.--Lords, use her honorably. [They exit. Richard remains.] RICHARD Ay, Edward will use women honorably! Would he were wasted--marrow, bones, and all-- That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring To cross me from the golden time I look for. And yet, between my soul's desire and me, The lustful Edward's title buried, Is Clarence, Henry, and his son, young Edward, And all the unlooked-for issue of their bodies To take their rooms ere I can place myself. A cold premeditation for my purpose. Why, then, I do but dream on sovereignty Like one that stands upon a promontory And spies a far-off shore where he would tread, Wishing his foot were equal with his eye, And chides the sea that sunders him from thence, Saying he'll lade it dry to have his way. So do I wish the crown, being so far off, And so I chide the means that keeps me from it, And so, I say, I'll cut the causes off, Flattering me with impossibilities. My eye's too quick, my heart o'erweens too much, Unless my hand and strength could equal them. Well, say there is no kingdom then for Richard, What other pleasure can the world afford? I'll make my heaven in a lady's lap And deck my body in gay ornaments, And 'witch sweet ladies with my words and looks. O miserable thought, and more unlikely Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns! Why, Love forswore me in my mother's womb, And, for I should not deal in her soft laws, She did corrupt frail Nature with some bribe To shrink mine arm up like a withered shrub; To make an envious mountain on my back, Where sits Deformity to mock my body; To shape my legs of an unequal size; To disproportion me in every part, Like to a chaos, or an unlicked bear-whelp, That carries no impression like the dam. And am I then a man to be beloved? O monstrous fault to harbor such a thought! Then, since this Earth affords no joy to me But to command, to check, to o'erbear such As are of better person than myself, I'll make my heaven to dream upon the crown, And, whiles I live, t' account this world but hell Until my misshaped trunk that bears this head Be round impaled with a glorious crown. And yet I know not how to get the crown, For many lives stand between me and home; And I, like one lost in a thorny wood, That rents the thorns and is rent with the thorns, Seeking a way and straying from the way, Not knowing how to find the open air, But toiling desperately to find it out, Torment myself to catch the English crown. And from that torment I will free myself Or hew my way out with a bloody axe. Why, I can smile, and murder whiles I smile, And cry "Content" to that which grieves my heart, And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face to all occasions. I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall; I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk; I'll play the orator as well as Nestor, Deceive more slyly than Ulysses could, And, like a Sinon, take another Troy. I can add colors to the chameleon, Change shapes with Proteus for advantages, And set the murderous Machiavel to school. Can I do this and cannot get a crown? Tut, were it farther off, I'll pluck it down. [He exits.] Scene 3 ======= [Flourish. Enter Lewis the French king, his sister the Lady Bona, his Admiral called Bourbon, Prince Edward, Queen Margaret, and the Earl of Oxford, the last three wearing the red rose.] [Lewis sits, and riseth up again.] KING LEWIS Fair Queen of England, worthy Margaret, Sit down with us. It ill befits thy state And birth that thou shouldst stand while Lewis doth sit. QUEEN MARGARET No, mighty King of France. Now Margaret Must strike her sail and learn awhile to serve Where kings command. I was, I must confess, Great Albion's queen in former golden days, But now mischance hath trod my title down And with dishonor laid me on the ground, Where I must take like seat unto my fortune And to my humble seat conform myself. KING LEWIS Why, say, fair queen, whence springs this deep despair? QUEEN MARGARET From such a cause as fills mine eyes with tears And stops my tongue, while heart is drowned in cares. KING LEWIS Whate'er it be, be thou still like thyself, And sit thee by our side. [Seats her by him.] Yield not thy neck To Fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind Still ride in triumph over all mischance. Be plain, Queen Margaret, and tell thy grief. It shall be eased if France can yield relief. QUEEN MARGARET Those gracious words revive my drooping thoughts And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak. Now therefore be it known to noble Lewis That Henry, sole possessor of my love, Is, of a king, become a banished man And forced to live in Scotland a forlorn; While proud ambitious Edward, Duke of York, Usurps the regal title and the seat Of England's true-anointed lawful king. This is the cause that I, poor Margaret, With this my son, Prince Edward, Henry's heir, Am come to crave thy just and lawful aid; And if thou fail us, all our hope is done. Scotland hath will to help but cannot help; Our people and our peers are both misled, Our treasure seized, our soldiers put to flight, And, as thou seest, ourselves in heavy plight. KING LEWIS Renowned queen, with patience calm the storm While we bethink a means to break it off. QUEEN MARGARET The more we stay, the stronger grows our foe. KING LEWIS The more I stay, the more I'll succor thee. QUEEN MARGARET O, but impatience waiteth on true sorrow. [Enter Warwick, wearing the white rose.] And see where comes the breeder of my sorrow. KING LEWIS What's he approacheth boldly to our presence? QUEEN MARGARET Our Earl of Warwick, Edward's greatest friend. KING LEWIS, [standing] Welcome, brave Warwick. What brings thee to France? [He descends. She ariseth.] QUEEN MARGARET, [aside] Ay, now begins a second storm to rise, For this is he that moves both wind and tide. WARWICK From worthy Edward, King of Albion, My lord and sovereign and thy vowed friend, I come in kindness and unfeigned love, First, to do greetings to thy royal person, And then to crave a league of amity, And, lastly, to confirm that amity With nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant That virtuous Lady Bona, thy fair sister, To England's king in lawful marriage. QUEEN MARGARET, [aside] If that go forward, Henry's hope is done. WARWICK, [speaking to Lady Bona] And, gracious madam, in our king's behalf, I am commanded, with your leave and favor, Humbly to kiss your hand, and with my tongue To tell the passion of my sovereign's heart, Where fame, late ent'ring at his heedful ears, Hath placed thy beauty's image and thy virtue. QUEEN MARGARET King Lewis and Lady Bona, hear me speak Before you answer Warwick. His demand Springs not from Edward's well-meant honest love, But from deceit, bred by necessity; For how can tyrants safely govern home Unless abroad they purchase great alliance? To prove him tyrant, this reason may suffice: That Henry liveth still; but were he dead, Yet here Prince Edward stands, King Henry's son. Look, therefore, Lewis, that by this league and marriage Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonor; For though usurpers sway the rule awhile, Yet heav'ns are just, and time suppresseth wrongs. WARWICK Injurious Margaret! PRINCE EDWARD And why not "Queen"? WARWICK Because thy father Henry did usurp, And thou no more art prince than she is queen. OXFORD Then Warwick disannuls great John of Gaunt, Which did subdue the greatest part of Spain; And after John of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth, Whose wisdom was a mirror to the wisest; And after that wise prince, Henry the Fifth, Who by his prowess conquered all France. From these our Henry lineally descends. WARWICK Oxford, how haps it in this smooth discourse You told not how Henry the Sixth hath lost All that which Henry the Fifth had gotten. Methinks these peers of France should smile at that. But, for the rest: you tell a pedigree Of threescore and two years, a silly time To make prescription for a kingdom's worth. OXFORD Why, Warwick, canst thou speak against thy liege, Whom thou obeyed'st thirty and six years, And not bewray thy treason with a blush? WARWICK Can Oxford, that did ever fence the right, Now buckler falsehood with a pedigree? For shame, leave Henry, and call Edward king. OXFORD Call him my king, by whose injurious doom My elder brother, the Lord Aubrey Vere, Was done to death? And more than so, my father, Even in the downfall of his mellowed years, When nature brought him to the door of death? No, Warwick, no. While life upholds this arm, This arm upholds the house of Lancaster. WARWICK And I the house of York. KING LEWIS Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford, Vouchsafe, at our request, to stand aside While I use further conference with Warwick. [They stand aloof.] QUEEN MARGARET, [aside] Heavens grant that Warwick's words bewitch him not. KING LEWIS Now, Warwick, tell me, even upon thy conscience, Is Edward your true king? For I were loath To link with him that were not lawful chosen. WARWICK Thereon I pawn my credit and mine honor. KING LEWIS But is he gracious in the people's eye? WARWICK The more that Henry was unfortunate. KING LEWIS Then further, all dissembling set aside, Tell me for truth the measure of his love Unto our sister Bona. WARWICK Such it seems As may beseem a monarch like himself. Myself have often heard him say and swear That this his love was an eternal plant, Whereof the root was fixed in virtue's ground, The leaves and fruit maintained with beauty's sun, Exempt from envy but not from disdain, Unless the Lady Bona quit his pain. KING LEWIS Now, sister, let us hear your firm resolve. LADY BONA Your grant or your denial shall be mine. [(Speaks to Warwick.)] Yet I confess that often ere this day, When I have heard your king's desert recounted, Mine ear hath tempted judgment to desire. KING LEWIS Then, Warwick, thus: our sister shall be Edward's. And now forthwith shall articles be drawn Touching the jointure that your king must make, Which with her dowry shall be counterpoised.-- Draw near, Queen Margaret, and be a witness That Bona shall be wife to the English king. PRINCE EDWARD To Edward, but not to the English king. QUEEN MARGARET Deceitful Warwick, it was thy device By this alliance to make void my suit. Before thy coming, Lewis was Henry's friend. KING LEWIS And still is friend to him and Margaret. But if your title to the crown be weak, As may appear by Edward's good success, Then 'tis but reason that I be released From giving aid which late I promised. Yet shall you have all kindness at my hand That your estate requires and mine can yield. WARWICK Henry now lives in Scotland at his ease, Where, having nothing, nothing can he lose.-- And as for you yourself, our quondam queen, You have a father able to maintain you, And better 'twere you troubled him than France. QUEEN MARGARET Peace, impudent and shameless Warwick, Proud setter-up and puller-down of kings! I will not hence till with my talk and tears, Both full of truth, I make King Lewis behold Thy sly conveyance and thy lord's false love, For both of you are birds of selfsame feather. [Post blowing a horn within.] KING LEWIS Warwick, this is some post to us or thee. [Enter the Post.] POST [speaks to Warwick.] My lord ambassador, these letters are for you, Sent from your brother, Marquess Montague. [(To Lewis.)] These from our king unto your Majesty. [(To Margaret.)] And, madam, these for you--from whom, I know not. [They all read their letters.] OXFORD, [aside] I like it well that our fair queen and mistress Smiles at her news, while Warwick frowns at his. PRINCE EDWARD, [aside] Nay, mark how Lewis stamps as he were nettled. I hope all's for the best. KING LEWIS Warwick, what are thy news? And yours, fair queen? QUEEN MARGARET Mine, such as fill my heart with unhoped joys. WARWICK Mine, full of sorrow and heart's discontent. KING LEWIS What, has your king married the Lady Grey, And now, to soothe your forgery and his, Sends me a paper to persuade me patience? Is this th' alliance that he seeks with France? Dare he presume to scorn us in this manner? QUEEN MARGARET I told your Majesty as much before. This proveth Edward's love and Warwick's honesty. WARWICK King Lewis, I here protest in sight of heaven And by the hope I have of heavenly bliss, That I am clear from this misdeed of Edward's-- No more my king, for he dishonors me, But most himself, if he could see his shame. Did I forget that by the house of York My father came untimely to his death? Did I let pass th' abuse done to my niece? Did I impale him with the regal crown? Did I put Henry from his native right? And am I guerdoned at the last with shame? Shame on himself, for my desert is honor! And to repair my honor lost for him, I here renounce him and return to Henry. [He removes the white rose.] My noble queen, let former grudges pass, And henceforth I am thy true servitor. I will revenge his wrong to Lady Bona And replant Henry in his former state. QUEEN MARGARET Warwick, these words have turned my hate to love, And I forgive and quite forget old faults, And joy that thou becom'st King Henry's friend. WARWICK So much his friend, ay, his unfeigned friend, That if King Lewis vouchsafe to furnish us With some few bands of chosen soldiers, I'll undertake to land them on our coast And force the tyrant from his seat by war. 'Tis not his new-made bride shall succor him. And as for Clarence, as my letters tell me, He's very likely now to fall from him For matching more for wanton lust than honor, Or than for strength and safety of our country. LADY BONA Dear brother, how shall Bona be revenged But by thy help to this distressed queen? QUEEN MARGARET Renowned prince, how shall poor Henry live Unless thou rescue him from foul despair? LADY BONA My quarrel and this English queen's are one. WARWICK And mine, fair Lady Bona, joins with yours. KING LEWIS And mine with hers and thine and Margaret's. Therefore at last I firmly am resolved You shall have aid. QUEEN MARGARET Let me give humble thanks for all, at once. KING LEWIS Then, England's messenger, return in post, And tell false Edward, thy supposed king, That Lewis of France is sending over maskers To revel it with him and his new bride. Thou seest what's passed; go fear thy king withal. LADY BONA Tell him, in hope he'll prove a widower shortly, I wear the willow garland for his sake. QUEEN MARGARET Tell him my mourning weeds are laid aside And I am ready to put armor on. WARWICK Tell him from me that he hath done me wrong, And therefore I'll uncrown him ere 't be long. There's thy reward. [Gives money.] Be gone. [Post exits.] KING LEWIS But, Warwick, Thou and Oxford with five thousand men Shall cross the seas and bid false Edward battle; And as occasion serves, this noble queen And prince shall follow with a fresh supply. Yet ere thou go, but answer me one doubt: What pledge have we of thy firm loyalty? WARWICK This shall assure my constant loyalty: That if our queen and this young prince agree, I'll join mine eldest daughter, and my joy, To him forthwith in holy wedlock bands. QUEEN MARGARET Yes, I agree, and thank you for your motion. Son Edward, she is fair and virtuous. Therefore, delay not; give thy hand to Warwick, And with thy hand, thy faith irrevocable, That only Warwick's daughter shall be thine. PRINCE EDWARD Yes, I accept her, for she well deserves it, And here, to pledge my vow, I give my hand. [He gives his hand to Warwick.] KING LEWIS Why stay we now? These soldiers shall be levied, And thou, Lord Bourbon, our High Admiral, Shall waft them over with our royal fleet. I long till Edward fall by war's mischance For mocking marriage with a dame of France. [All but Warwick exit.] WARWICK I came from Edward as ambassador, But I return his sworn and mortal foe. Matter of marriage was the charge he gave me, But dreadful war shall answer his demand. Had he none else to make a stale but me? Then none but I shall turn his jest to sorrow. I was the chief that raised him to the crown, And I'll be chief to bring him down again: Not that I pity Henry's misery, But seek revenge on Edward's mockery. [He exits.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Richard of Gloucester, Clarence, Somerset, and Montague, all wearing the white rose.] RICHARD Now tell me, brother Clarence, what think you Of this new marriage with the Lady Grey? Hath not our brother made a worthy choice? CLARENCE Alas, you know 'tis far from hence to France. How could he stay till Warwick made return? [Flourish.] SOMERSET My lords, forbear this talk. Here comes the King. RICHARD And his well-chosen bride. CLARENCE I mind to tell him plainly what I think. [Enter King Edward, with Attendants, Lady Grey, now Queen Elizabeth, Pembroke, Stafford, Hastings, and others, all wearing the white rose. Four stand on one side, and four on the other.] KING EDWARD Now, brother of Clarence, how like you our choice, That you stand pensive, as half malcontent? CLARENCE As well as Lewis of France or the Earl of Warwick, Which are so weak of courage and in judgment That they'll take no offense at our abuse. KING EDWARD Suppose they take offense without a cause, They are but Lewis and Warwick; I am Edward, Your king and Warwick's, and must have my will. RICHARD And shall have your will because our king. Yet hasty marriage seldom proveth well. KING EDWARD Yea, brother Richard, are you offended too? RICHARD Not I. No, God forbid that I should wish them severed Whom God hath joined together. Ay, and 'twere pity To sunder them that yoke so well together. KING EDWARD Setting your scorns and your mislike aside, Tell me some reason why the Lady Grey Should not become my wife and England's queen? And you too, Somerset and Montague, Speak freely what you think. CLARENCE Then this is mine opinion: that King Lewis Becomes your enemy for mocking him About the marriage of the Lady Bona. RICHARD And Warwick, doing what you gave in charge, Is now dishonored by this new marriage. KING EDWARD What if both Lewis and Warwick be appeased By such invention as I can devise? MONTAGUE Yet to have joined with France in such alliance Would more have strengthened this our commonwealth 'Gainst foreign storms than any home-bred marriage. HASTINGS Why, knows not Montague that of itself England is safe, if true within itself? MONTAGUE But the safer when 'tis backed with France. HASTINGS 'Tis better using France than trusting France. Let us be backed with God and with the seas Which He hath giv'n for fence impregnable, And with their helps only defend ourselves. In them and in ourselves our safety lies. CLARENCE For this one speech, Lord Hastings well deserves To have the heir of the Lord Hungerford. KING EDWARD Ay, what of that? It was my will and grant, And for this once my will shall stand for law. RICHARD And yet methinks your Grace hath not done well To give the heir and daughter of Lord Scales Unto the brother of your loving bride. She better would have fitted me or Clarence; But in your bride you bury brotherhood. CLARENCE Or else you would not have bestowed the heir Of the Lord Bonville on your new wife's son, And leave your brothers to go speed elsewhere. KING EDWARD Alas, poor Clarence, is it for a wife That thou art malcontent? I will provide thee. CLARENCE In choosing for yourself you showed your judgment, Which, being shallow, you shall give me leave To play the broker in mine own behalf. And to that end, I shortly mind to leave you. KING EDWARD Leave me or tarry, Edward will be king And not be tied unto his brother's will. QUEEN ELIZABETH My lords, before it pleased his Majesty To raise my state to title of a queen, Do me but right and you must all confess That I was not ignoble of descent, And meaner than myself have had like fortune. But as this title honors me and mine, So your dislikes, to whom I would be pleasing, Doth cloud my joys with danger and with sorrow. KING EDWARD My love, forbear to fawn upon their frowns. What danger or what sorrow can befall thee So long as Edward is thy constant friend And their true sovereign, whom they must obey? Nay, whom they shall obey, and love thee too, Unless they seek for hatred at my hands; Which if they do, yet will I keep thee safe, And they shall feel the vengeance of my wrath. RICHARD, [aside] I hear, yet say not much, but think the more. [Enter a Post.] KING EDWARD Now, messenger, what letters or what news from France? POST My sovereign liege, no letters and few words But such as I without your special pardon Dare not relate. KING EDWARD Go to, we pardon thee. Therefore, in brief, Tell me their words as near as thou canst guess them. What answer makes King Lewis unto our letters? POST At my depart, these were his very words: "Go tell false Edward, the supposed king, That Lewis of France is sending over maskers To revel it with him and his new bride." KING EDWARD Is Lewis so brave? Belike he thinks me Henry. But what said Lady Bona to my marriage? POST These were her words, uttered with mild disdain: "Tell him, in hope he'll prove a widower shortly, I'll wear the willow garland for his sake." KING EDWARD I blame not her; she could say little less; She had the wrong. But what said Henry's queen? For I have heard that she was there in place. POST "Tell him," quoth she, "my mourning weeds are done, And I am ready to put armor on." KING EDWARD Belike she minds to play the Amazon. But what said Warwick to these injuries? POST He, more incensed against your Majesty Than all the rest, discharged me with these words: "Tell him from me that he hath done me wrong, And therefore I'll uncrown him ere 't be long." KING EDWARD Ha! Durst the traitor breathe out so proud words? Well, I will arm me, being thus forewarned. They shall have wars and pay for their presumption. But say, is Warwick friends with Margaret? POST Ay, gracious sovereign, they are so linked in friendship That young Prince Edward marries Warwick's daughter. CLARENCE, [aside] Belike the elder; Clarence will have the younger.-- Now, brother king, farewell, and sit you fast, For I will hence to Warwick's other daughter, That, though I want a kingdom, yet in marriage I may not prove inferior to yourself. You that love me and Warwick, follow me. [Clarence exits, and Somerset follows.] RICHARD, [aside] Not I. My thoughts aim at a further matter: I stay not for the love of Edward, but the crown. KING EDWARD Clarence and Somerset both gone to Warwick? Yet am I armed against the worst can happen, And haste is needful in this desp'rate case. Pembroke and Stafford, you in our behalf Go levy men and make prepare for war. They are already, or quickly will be, landed. Myself in person will straight follow you. [Pembroke and Stafford exit.] But ere I go, Hastings and Montague, Resolve my doubt: you twain, of all the rest, Are near to Warwick by blood and by alliance. Tell me if you love Warwick more than me. If it be so, then both depart to him. I rather wish you foes than hollow friends. But if you mind to hold your true obedience, Give me assurance with some friendly vow, That I may never have you in suspect. MONTAGUE So God help Montague as he proves true! HASTINGS And Hastings as he favors Edward's cause! KING EDWARD Now, brother Richard, will you stand by us? RICHARD Ay, in despite of all that shall withstand you. KING EDWARD Why, so. Then am I sure of victory. Now therefore let us hence and lose no hour Till we meet Warwick with his foreign power. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Warwick and Oxford in England, wearing the red rose, with French Soldiers.] WARWICK Trust me, my lord, all hitherto goes well. The common people by numbers swarm to us. [Enter Clarence and Somerset.] But see where Somerset and Clarence comes.-- Speak suddenly, my lords: are we all friends? CLARENCE Fear not that, my lord. WARWICK Then, gentle Clarence, welcome unto Warwick, And welcome, Somerset. I hold it cowardice To rest mistrustful where a noble heart Hath pawned an open hand in sign of love; Else might I think that Clarence, Edward's brother, Were but a feigned friend to our proceedings. But welcome, sweet Clarence; my daughter shall be thine. And now, what rests but, in night's coverture Thy brother being carelessly encamped, His soldiers lurking in the town about, And but attended by a simple guard, We may surprise and take him at our pleasure? Our scouts have found the adventure very easy; That, as Ulysses and stout Diomed With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus' tents And brought from thence the Thracian fatal steeds, So we, well covered with the night's black mantle, At unawares may beat down Edward's guard And seize himself. I say not "slaughter him," For I intend but only to surprise him. You that will follow me to this attempt, Applaud the name of Henry with your leader. [They all cry "Henry!"] Why then, let's on our way in silent sort. For Warwick and his friends, God and Saint George! [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter three Watchmen to guard King Edward's tent, all wearing the white rose.] FIRST WATCH Come on, my masters, each man take his stand. The King by this is set him down to sleep. SECOND WATCH What, will he not to bed? FIRST WATCH Why, no, for he hath made a solemn vow Never to lie and take his natural rest Till Warwick or himself be quite suppressed. SECOND WATCH Tomorrow, then, belike shall be the day, If Warwick be so near as men report. THIRD WATCH But say, I pray, what nobleman is that That with the King here resteth in his tent? FIRST WATCH 'Tis the Lord Hastings, the King's chiefest friend. THIRD WATCH O, is it so? But why commands the King That his chief followers lodge in towns about him, While he himself keeps in the cold field? SECOND WATCH 'Tis the more honor, because more dangerous. THIRD WATCH Ay, but give me worship and quietness; I like it better than a dangerous honor. If Warwick knew in what estate he stands, 'Tis to be doubted he would waken him. FIRST WATCH Unless our halberds did shut up his passage. SECOND WATCH Ay, wherefore else guard we his royal tent But to defend his person from night foes? [Enter Warwick, Clarence, Oxford, Somerset, all wearing the red rose, and French Soldiers, silent all.] WARWICK This is his tent, and see where stand his guard. Courage, my masters. Honor, now or never! But follow me, and Edward shall be ours. FIRST WATCH Who goes there? SECOND WATCH Stay, or thou diest! [Warwick and the rest cry all "Warwick, Warwick!" and set upon the guard, who fly, crying "Arm, Arm!" Warwick and the rest following them.] [The drum playing and trumpet sounding, enter Warwick, Somerset, and the rest, bringing King Edward out in his gown, sitting in a chair. Richard and Hastings flies over the stage.] SOMERSET What are they that fly there? WARWICK Richard and Hastings. Let them go. Here is the Duke. KING EDWARD The Duke? Why, Warwick, when we parted, thou call'dst me king. WARWICK Ay, but the case is altered. When you disgraced me in my embassade, Then I degraded you from being king And come now to create you Duke of York. Alas, how should you govern any kingdom That know not how to use ambassadors, Nor how to be contented with one wife, Nor how to use your brothers brotherly, Nor how to study for the people's welfare, Nor how to shroud yourself from enemies? KING EDWARD Yea, brother of Clarence, art thou here too? Nay, then, I see that Edward needs must down. Yet, Warwick, in despite of all mischance, Of thee thyself and all thy complices, Edward will always bear himself as king. Though Fortune's malice overthrow my state, My mind exceeds the compass of her wheel. WARWICK Then for his mind be Edward England's king, [Takes off his crown.] But Henry now shall wear the English crown And be true king indeed, thou but the shadow.-- My lord of Somerset, at my request, See that forthwith Duke Edward be conveyed Unto my brother, Archbishop of York. When I have fought with Pembroke and his fellows, I'll follow you and tell what answer Lewis and the Lady Bona send to him.-- Now for awhile farewell, good Duke of York. [They begin to lead him out forcibly.] KING EDWARD What Fates impose, that men must needs abide; It boots not to resist both wind and tide. [Somerset and Soldiers exit, guarding King Edward.] OXFORD What now remains, my lords, for us to do But march to London with our soldiers? WARWICK Ay, that's the first thing that we have to do, To free King Henry from imprisonment And see him seated in the regal throne. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Rivers and Queen Elizabeth, wearing the white rose.] RIVERS Madam, what makes you in this sudden change? QUEEN ELIZABETH Why, brother Rivers, are you yet to learn What late misfortune is befall'n King Edward? RIVERS What, loss of some pitched battle against Warwick? QUEEN ELIZABETH No, but the loss of his own royal person. RIVERS Then is my sovereign slain? QUEEN ELIZABETH Ay, almost slain, for he is taken prisoner, Either betrayed by falsehood of his guard Or by his foe surprised at unawares; And, as I further have to understand, Is new committed to the Bishop of York, Fell Warwick's brother and by that our foe. RIVERS These news I must confess are full of grief; Yet, gracious madam, bear it as you may. Warwick may lose that now hath won the day. QUEEN ELIZABETH Till then fair hope must hinder life's decay; And I the rather wean me from despair For love of Edward's offspring in my womb. This is it that makes me bridle passion And bear with mildness my misfortune's cross. Ay, ay, for this I draw in many a tear And stop the rising of blood-sucking sighs, Lest with my sighs or tears I blast or drown King Edward's fruit, true heir to th' English crown. RIVERS But, madam, where is Warwick then become? QUEEN ELIZABETH I am informed that he comes towards London To set the crown once more on Henry's head. Guess thou the rest: King Edward's friends must down. But to prevent the tyrant's violence-- For trust not him that hath once broken faith-- I'll hence forthwith unto the sanctuary To save at least the heir of Edward's right. There shall I rest secure from force and fraud. Come, therefore, let us fly while we may fly. If Warwick take us, we are sure to die. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Richard of Gloucester, Lord Hastings, and Sir William Stanley, with Soldiers, all wearing the white rose.] RICHARD Now, my Lord Hastings and Sir William Stanley, Leave off to wonder why I drew you hither Into this chiefest thicket of the park. Thus stands the case: you know our king, my brother, Is prisoner to the Bishop here, at whose hands He hath good usage and great liberty, And, often but attended with weak guard, Comes hunting this way to disport himself. I have advertised him by secret means That, if about this hour he make this way Under the color of his usual game, He shall here find his friends with horse and men To set him free from his captivity. [Enter King Edward, wearing the white rose, and a Huntsman with him.] HUNTSMAN This way, my lord, for this way lies the game. KING EDWARD Nay, this way, man. See where the huntsmen stand.-- Now, brother of Gloucester, Lord Hastings, and the rest, Stand you thus close to steal the Bishop's deer? RICHARD Brother, the time and case requireth haste. Your horse stands ready at the park corner. KING EDWARD But whither shall we then? HASTINGS To Lynn, my lord, and shipped from thence to Flanders. RICHARD Well guessed, believe me, for that was my meaning. KING EDWARD Stanley, I will requite thy forwardness. RICHARD But wherefore stay we? 'Tis no time to talk. KING EDWARD Huntsman, what sayst thou? Wilt thou go along? HUNTSMAN Better do so than tarry and be hanged. RICHARD Come then, away! Let's ha' no more ado. KING EDWARD Bishop, farewell; shield thee from Warwick's frown, And pray that I may repossess the crown. [They exit.] Scene 6 ======= [Flourish. Enter King Henry the Sixth, Clarence, Warwick, Somerset, young Henry Earl of Richmond, Oxford, Montague, all wearing the red rose, and Lieutenant of the Tower.] KING HENRY Master lieutenant, now that God and friends Have shaken Edward from the regal seat And turned my captive state to liberty, My fear to hope, my sorrows unto joys, At our enlargement what are thy due fees? LIEUTENANT Subjects may challenge nothing of their sov'reigns, But, if an humble prayer may prevail, I then crave pardon of your Majesty. KING HENRY For what, lieutenant? For well using me? Nay, be thou sure I'll well requite thy kindness, For that it made my imprisonment a pleasure, Ay, such a pleasure as encaged birds Conceive when, after many moody thoughts, At last by notes of household harmony They quite forget their loss of liberty.-- But, Warwick, after God thou sett'st me free, And chiefly, therefore, I thank God and thee. He was the author, thou the instrument. Therefore, that I may conquer Fortune's spite By living low where Fortune cannot hurt me, And that the people of this blessed land May not be punished with my thwarting stars, Warwick, although my head still wear the crown, I here resign my government to thee, For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds. WARWICK Your Grace hath still been famed for virtuous And now may seem as wise as virtuous By spying and avoiding Fortune's malice, For few men rightly temper with the stars. Yet, in this one thing let me blame your Grace: For choosing me when Clarence is in place. CLARENCE No, Warwick, thou art worthy of the sway, To whom the heav'ns in thy nativity Adjudged an olive branch and laurel crown As likely to be blest in peace and war; And therefore I yield thee my free consent. WARWICK And I choose Clarence only for Protector. KING HENRY Warwick and Clarence, give me both your hands. Now join your hands, and with your hands your hearts, That no dissension hinder government. [He joins their hands.] I make you both Protectors of this land, While I myself will lead a private life And in devotion spend my latter days, To sin's rebuke and my Creator's praise. WARWICK What answers Clarence to his sovereign's will? CLARENCE That he consents, if Warwick yield consent, For on thy fortune I repose myself. WARWICK Why, then, though loath, yet must I be content. We'll yoke together like a double shadow To Henry's body, and supply his place-- I mean, in bearing weight of government-- While he enjoys the honor and his ease. And, Clarence, now then it is more than needful Forthwith that Edward be pronounced a traitor And all his lands and goods be confiscate. CLARENCE What else? And that succession be determined. WARWICK Ay, therein Clarence shall not want his part. KING HENRY But with the first of all your chief affairs Let me entreat--for I command no more-- That Margaret your queen and my son Edward Be sent for, to return from France with speed, For till I see them here, by doubtful fear My joy of liberty is half eclipsed. CLARENCE It shall be done, my sovereign, with all speed. KING HENRY My lord of Somerset, what youth is that Of whom you seem to have so tender care? SOMERSET My liege, it is young Henry, Earl of Richmond. KING HENRY, [to Richmond] Come hither, England's hope. [Lays his hand on Richmond's head.] If secret powers Suggest but truth to my divining thoughts, This pretty lad will prove our country's bliss. His looks are full of peaceful majesty, His head by nature framed to wear a crown, His hand to wield a scepter, and himself Likely in time to bless a regal throne. Make much of him, my lords, for this is he Must help you more than you are hurt by me. [Enter a Post.] WARWICK What news, my friend? POST That Edward is escaped from your brother And fled, as he hears since, to Burgundy. WARWICK Unsavory news! But how made he escape? POST He was conveyed by Richard, Duke of Gloucester, And the Lord Hastings, who attended him In secret ambush on the forest side And from the Bishop's huntsmen rescued him, For hunting was his daily exercise. WARWICK My brother was too careless of his charge. But let us hence, my sovereign, to provide A salve for any sore that may betide. [All but Somerset, Richmond, and Oxford exit.] SOMERSET, [to Oxford] My lord, I like not of this flight of Edward's, For doubtless Burgundy will yield him help, And we shall have more wars before 't be long. As Henry's late presaging prophecy Did glad my heart with hope of this young Richmond, So doth my heart misgive me in these conflicts What may befall him, to his harm and ours. Therefore, Lord Oxford, to prevent the worst, Forthwith we'll send him hence to Brittany Till storms be past of civil enmity. OXFORD Ay, for if Edward repossess the crown, 'Tis like that Richmond, with the rest, shall down. SOMERSET It shall be so. He shall to Brittany. Come, therefore, let's about it speedily. [They exit.] Scene 7 ======= [Flourish. Enter King Edward, Richard, Hastings, and Soldiers, all wearing the white rose.] KING EDWARD Now, brother Richard, Lord Hastings, and the rest: Yet thus far Fortune maketh us amends, And says that once more I shall interchange My waned state for Henry's regal crown. Well have we passed, and now re-passed, the seas, And brought desired help from Burgundy. What then remains, we being thus arrived From Ravenspurgh Haven before the gates of York, But that we enter as into our dukedom? [Hastings knocks at the gate.] RICHARD The gates made fast? Brother, I like not this. For many men that stumble at the threshold Are well foretold that danger lurks within. KING EDWARD Tush, man, abodements must not now affright us. By fair or foul means we must enter in, For hither will our friends repair to us. HASTINGS My liege, I'll knock once more to summon them. [He knocks.] [Enter on the walls the Mayor of York and his brethren, the Aldermen.] MAYOR My lords, we were forewarned of your coming, And shut the gates for safety of ourselves, For now we owe allegiance unto Henry. KING EDWARD But, master mayor, if Henry be your king, Yet Edward, at the least, is Duke of York. MAYOR True, my good lord, I know you for no less. KING EDWARD Why, and I challenge nothing but my dukedom, As being well content with that alone. RICHARD, [aside] But when the fox hath once got in his nose, He'll soon find means to make the body follow. HASTINGS Why, master mayor, why stand you in a doubt? Open the gates. We are King Henry's friends. MAYOR Ay, say you so? The gates shall then be opened. [He descends with the Aldermen.] RICHARD A wise stout captain, and soon persuaded. HASTINGS The good old man would fain that all were well, So 'twere not long of him; but being entered, I doubt not, I, but we shall soon persuade Both him and all his brothers unto reason. [Enter the Mayor and two Aldermen.] KING EDWARD So, master mayor, these gates must not be shut But in the night or in the time of war. What, fear not, man, but yield me up the keys. [Takes his keys.] For Edward will defend the town and thee And all those friends that deign to follow me. [March. Enter Montgomery, with Drum and Soldiers.] RICHARD Brother, this is Sir John Montgomery, Our trusty friend, unless I be deceived. KING EDWARD Welcome, Sir John. But why come you in arms? MONTGOMERY To help King Edward in his time of storm, As every loyal subject ought to do. KING EDWARD Thanks, good Montgomery. But we now forget Our title to the crown, and only claim Our dukedom, till God please to send the rest. MONTGOMERY Then fare you well, for I will hence again. I came to serve a king and not a duke.-- Drummer, strike up, and let us march away. [The Drum begins to march.] KING EDWARD Nay, stay, Sir John, a while, and we'll debate By what safe means the crown may be recovered. MONTGOMERY What talk you of debating? In few words, If you'll not here proclaim yourself our king, I'll leave you to your fortune and be gone To keep them back that come to succor you. Why shall we fight if you pretend no title? RICHARD Why, brother, wherefore stand you on nice points? KING EDWARD When we grow stronger, then we'll make our claim. Till then 'tis wisdom to conceal our meaning. HASTINGS Away with scrupulous wit! Now arms must rule. RICHARD And fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns. Brother, we will proclaim you out of hand; The bruit thereof will bring you many friends. KING EDWARD Then be it as you will, for 'tis my right, And Henry but usurps the diadem. MONTGOMERY Ay, now my sovereign speaketh like himself, And now will I be Edward's champion. HASTINGS Sound, trumpet! Edward shall be here proclaimed.-- Come, fellow soldier, make thou proclamation. [Flourish. Sound.] SOLDIER [reads] Edward the Fourth, by the Grace of God, King of England and France, and Lord of Ireland, &c. MONTGOMERY And whosoe'er gainsays King Edward's right, By this I challenge him to single fight. [Throws down his gauntlet.] ALL Long live Edward the Fourth! KING EDWARD Thanks, brave Montgomery, and thanks unto you all. If fortune serve me, I'll requite this kindness. Now, for this night let's harbor here in York, And when the morning sun shall raise his car Above the border of this horizon, We'll forward towards Warwick and his mates; For well I wot that Henry is no soldier. Ah, froward Clarence, how evil it beseems thee To flatter Henry and forsake thy brother! Yet, as we may, we'll meet both thee and Warwick. Come on, brave soldiers; doubt not of the day; And that once gotten, doubt not of large pay. [They exit.] Scene 8 ======= [Flourish. Enter King Henry, Warwick, Montague, Clarence, Oxford, and Exeter, all wearing the red rose.] WARWICK What counsel, lords? Edward from Belgia, With hasty Germans and blunt Hollanders, Hath passed in safety through the Narrow Seas, And with his troops doth march amain to London, And many giddy people flock to him. KING HENRY Let's levy men and beat him back again. CLARENCE A little fire is quickly trodden out, Which, being suffered, rivers cannot quench. WARWICK In Warwickshire I have true-hearted friends, Not mutinous in peace yet bold in war. Those will I muster up; and thou, son Clarence, Shalt stir up in Suffolk, Norfolk, and in Kent The knights and gentlemen to come with thee.-- Thou, brother Montague, in Buckingham, Northampton, and in Leicestershire shalt find Men well inclined to hear what thou command'st.-- And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous well beloved, In Oxfordshire shalt muster up thy friends.-- My sovereign, with the loving citizens, Like to his island girt in with the ocean, Or modest Dian circled with her nymphs, Shall rest in London till we come to him. Fair lords, take leave, and stand not to reply.-- Farewell, my sovereign. KING HENRY Farewell, my Hector and my Troy's true hope. CLARENCE In sign of truth, I kiss your Highness' hand. KING HENRY Well-minded Clarence, be thou fortunate. MONTAGUE Comfort, my lord; and so I take my leave. OXFORD And thus I seal my truth, and bid adieu. [He kisses Henry's hand.] KING HENRY Sweet Oxford and my loving Montague And all at once, once more a happy farewell. WARWICK Farewell, sweet lords. Let's meet at Coventry. [All but King Henry and Exeter exit.] KING HENRY Here at the palace will I rest awhile. Cousin of Exeter, what thinks your Lordship? Methinks the power that Edward hath in field Should not be able to encounter mine. EXETER The doubt is that he will seduce the rest. KING HENRY That's not my fear. My meed hath got me fame. I have not stopped mine ears to their demands, Nor posted off their suits with slow delays. My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds, My mildness hath allayed their swelling griefs, My mercy dried their water-flowing tears. I have not been desirous of their wealth Nor much oppressed them with great subsidies, Nor forward of revenge, though they much erred. Then why should they love Edward more than me? No, Exeter, these graces challenge grace; And when the lion fawns upon the lamb, The lamb will never cease to follow him. [Shout within "A York! A York!"] EXETER Hark, hark, my lord, what shouts are these? [Enter King Edward and Richard and Soldiers, all wearing the white rose.] KING EDWARD Seize on the shamefaced Henry, bear him hence, And once again proclaim us King of England.-- You are the fount that makes small brooks to flow. Now stops thy spring; my sea shall suck them dry And swell so much the higher by their ebb.-- Hence with him to the Tower. Let him not speak. [Soldiers exit with King Henry and Exeter.] And, lords, towards Coventry bend we our course, Where peremptory Warwick now remains. The sun shines hot, and if we use delay, Cold biting winter mars our hoped-for hay. RICHARD Away betimes, before his forces join, And take the great-grown traitor unawares. Brave warriors, march amain towards Coventry. [They exit.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Warwick, wearing the red rose, the Mayor of Coventry, two Messengers, and others, upon the walls.] WARWICK Where is the post that came from valiant Oxford?-- How far hence is thy lord, mine honest fellow? FIRST MESSENGER By this at Dunsmore, marching hitherward. [He exits.] WARWICK How far off is our brother Montague? Where is the post that came from Montague? SECOND MESSENGER By this at Daintry, with a puissant troop. [He exits.] [Enter, upon the walls, Somerville wearing the red rose.] WARWICK Say, Somerville, what says my loving son? And, by thy guess, how nigh is Clarence now? SOMERVILLE At Southam I did leave him with his forces And do expect him here some two hours hence. [Drum offstage.] WARWICK Then Clarence is at hand; I hear his drum. SOMERVILLE It is not his, my lord; here Southam lies. The drum your Honor hears marcheth from Warwick. WARWICK Who should that be? Belike unlooked-for friends. SOMERVILLE They are at hand, and you shall quickly know. [March. Flourish. Enter below, King Edward, Richard, and Soldiers, including a Trumpeter, all wearing the white rose.] KING EDWARD Go, Trumpet, to the walls, and sound a parle. RICHARD See how the surly Warwick mans the wall. WARWICK O unbid spite, is sportful Edward come? Where slept our scouts, or how are they seduced, That we could hear no news of his repair? KING EDWARD Now, Warwick, wilt thou ope the city gates, Speak gentle words, and humbly bend thy knee? Call Edward king, and at his hands beg mercy, And he shall pardon thee these outrages. WARWICK Nay, rather wilt thou draw thy forces hence, Confess who set thee up and plucked thee down, Call Warwick patron, and be penitent, And thou shalt still remain the Duke of York. RICHARD I thought at least he would have said "the King." Or did he make the jest against his will? WARWICK Is not a dukedom, sir, a goodly gift? RICHARD Ay, by my faith, for a poor earl to give. I'll do thee service for so good a gift. WARWICK 'Twas I that gave the kingdom to thy brother. KING EDWARD Why, then, 'tis mine, if but by Warwick's gift. WARWICK Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight; And, weakling, Warwick takes his gift again, And Henry is my king, Warwick his subject. KING EDWARD But Warwick's king is Edward's prisoner. And, gallant Warwick, do but answer this: What is the body when the head is off? RICHARD Alas, that Warwick had no more forecast, But whiles he thought to steal the single ten, The King was slyly fingered from the deck. You left poor Henry at the Bishop's palace, And ten to one you'll meet him in the Tower. KING EDWARD 'Tis even so; yet you are Warwick still. RICHARD Come, Warwick, take the time; kneel down, kneel down. Nay, when? Strike now, or else the iron cools. WARWICK I had rather chop this hand off at a blow And with the other fling it at thy face Than bear so low a sail to strike to thee. KING EDWARD Sail how thou canst, have wind and tide thy friend, This hand, fast wound about thy coal-black hair, Shall, whiles thy head is warm and new cut off, Write in the dust this sentence with thy blood: "Wind-changing Warwick now can change no more." [Enter Oxford, below, wearing the red rose, with Soldiers, Drum and Colors.] WARWICK O, cheerful colors, see where Oxford comes! OXFORD Oxford, Oxford for Lancaster! [Oxford and his troops exit as through a city gate.] RICHARD The gates are open; let us enter too. KING EDWARD So other foes may set upon our backs. Stand we in good array, for they no doubt Will issue out again and bid us battle. If not, the city being but of small defense, We'll quickly rouse the traitors in the same. [Oxford enters aloft.] WARWICK O welcome, Oxford, for we want thy help. [Enter Montague, below, wearing the red rose, with Soldiers, Drum and Colors.] MONTAGUE Montague, Montague for Lancaster! RICHARD Thou and thy brother both shall buy this treason Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear! [Montague and his troops exit as through a city gate.] KING EDWARD The harder matched, the greater victory. My mind presageth happy gain and conquest. [Enter Somerset, below, wearing the red rose, with Soldiers, Drum and Colors.] SOMERSET Somerset, Somerset for Lancaster! RICHARD Two of thy name, both dukes of Somerset, Have sold their lives unto the house of York, And thou shalt be the third, if this sword hold. [Somerset and his troops exit as through a city gate.] [Enter Clarence, below, wearing the red rose, with Soldiers, Drum and Colors.] WARWICK And lo, where George of Clarence sweeps along, Of force enough to bid his brother battle, With whom an upright zeal to right prevails More than the nature of a brother's love.-- Come, Clarence, come; thou wilt, if Warwick call. CLARENCE Father of Warwick, know you what this means? [He removes the red rose.] Look, here I throw my infamy at thee. [He throws the rose at Warwick.] I will not ruinate my father's house, Who gave his blood to lime the stones together And set up Lancaster. Why, trowest thou, Warwick, That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt, unnatural, To bend the fatal instruments of war Against his brother and his lawful king? Perhaps thou wilt object my holy oath. To keep that oath were more impiety Than Jephthah when he sacrificed his daughter. I am so sorry for my trespass made That, to deserve well at my brother's hands, I here proclaim myself thy mortal foe, With resolution, wheresoe'er I meet thee-- As I will meet thee if thou stir abroad-- To plague thee for thy foul misleading me. And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy thee And to my brother turn my blushing cheeks.-- Pardon me, Edward, I will make amends.-- And, Richard, do not frown upon my faults, For I will henceforth be no more unconstant. KING EDWARD Now, welcome more, and ten times more beloved, Than if thou never hadst deserved our hate. RICHARD Welcome, good Clarence; this is brother-like. WARWICK O, passing traitor, perjured and unjust. KING EDWARD What, Warwick, wilt thou leave the town and fight? Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears? WARWICK Alas, I am not cooped here for defense. I will away towards Barnet presently And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou dar'st. KING EDWARD Yes, Warwick, Edward dares, and leads the way.-- [Warwick exits from the walls and descends.] Lords, to the field! Saint George and victory! [They exit. March. Warwick and his company follows.] Scene 2 ======= [Alarum and excursions. Enter King Edward, wearing the white rose, bringing forth Warwick, wearing the red rose, wounded.] KING EDWARD So, lie thou there. Die thou, and die our fear, For Warwick was a bug that feared us all. Now, Montague, sit fast. I seek for thee, That Warwick's bones may keep thine company. [He exits.] WARWICK Ah, who is nigh? Come to me, friend or foe, And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick? Why ask I that? My mangled body shows, My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows That I must yield my body to the earth And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe. Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge, Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle, Under whose shade the ramping lion slept, Whose top branch overpeered Jove's spreading tree And kept low shrubs from winter's pow'rful wind. These eyes, that now are dimmed with death's black veil, Have been as piercing as the midday sun To search the secret treasons of the world. The wrinkles in my brows, now filled with blood, Were likened oft to kingly sepulchers, For who lived king but I could dig his grave? And who durst smile when Warwick bent his brow? Lo, now my glory smeared in dust and blood! My parks, my walks, my manors that I had Even now forsake me; and of all my lands Is nothing left me but my body's length. Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? And live we how we can, yet die we must. [Enter Oxford and Somerset, both wearing the red rose.] SOMERSET Ah, Warwick, Warwick, wert thou as we are, We might recover all our loss again. The Queen from France hath brought a puissant power; Even now we heard the news. Ah, could'st thou fly-- WARWICK Why, then, I would not fly. Ah, Montague, If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand And with thy lips keep in my soul awhile. Thou lov'st me not, for, brother, if thou didst, Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood That glues my lips and will not let me speak. Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead. SOMERSET Ah, Warwick, Montague hath breathed his last, And to the latest gasp cried out for Warwick, And said "Commend me to my valiant brother." And more he would have said, and more he spoke, Which sounded like a cannon in a vault, That mought not be distinguished, but at last I well might hear, delivered with a groan, "O, farewell, Warwick." WARWICK Sweet rest his soul! Fly, lords, and save yourselves, For Warwick bids you all farewell to meet in heaven. [He dies.] OXFORD Away, away, to meet the Queen's great power! [Here they bear away his body. They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Flourish. Enter King Edward in triumph, with Richard, Clarence, and the rest, all wearing the white rose.] KING EDWARD Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course, And we are graced with wreaths of victory. But in the midst of this bright-shining day, I spy a black suspicious threat'ning cloud That will encounter with our glorious sun Ere he attain his easeful western bed. I mean, my lords, those powers that the Queen Hath raised in Gallia have arrived our coast And, as we hear, march on to fight with us. CLARENCE A little gale will soon disperse that cloud And blow it to the source from whence it came; Thy very beams will dry those vapors up, For every cloud engenders not a storm. RICHARD The Queen is valued thirty thousand strong, And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her. If she have time to breathe, be well assured Her faction will be full as strong as ours. KING EDWARD We are advertised by our loving friends That they do hold their course toward Tewkesbury. We having now the best at Barnet Field Will thither straight, for willingness rids way, And, as we march, our strength will be augmented In every county as we go along. Strike up the drum, cry "Courage!" and away. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Flourish. March. Enter Queen Margaret, young Prince Edward, Somerset, Oxford, and Soldiers, all wearing the red rose.] QUEEN MARGARET Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss But cheerly seek how to redress their harms. What though the mast be now blown overboard, The cable broke, the holding-anchor lost, And half our sailors swallowed in the flood? Yet lives our pilot still. Is 't meet that he Should leave the helm and, like a fearful lad, With tearful eyes add water to the sea And give more strength to that which hath too much, Whiles in his moan the ship splits on the rock, Which industry and courage might have saved? Ah, what a shame, ah, what a fault were this! Say Warwick was our anchor; what of that? And Montague our topmast; what of him? Our slaughtered friends the tackles; what of these? Why, is not Oxford here another anchor? And Somerset another goodly mast? The friends of France our shrouds and tacklings? And, though unskillful, why not Ned and I For once allowed the skillful pilot's charge? We will not from the helm to sit and weep, But keep our course, though the rough wind say no, From shelves and rocks that threaten us with wrack. As good to chide the waves as speak them fair. And what is Edward but a ruthless sea? What Clarence but a quicksand of deceit? And Richard but a ragged fatal rock-- All these the enemies to our poor bark? Say you can swim: alas, 'tis but awhile; Tread on the sand: why, there you quickly sink; Bestride the rock: the tide will wash you off Or else you famish; that's a threefold death. This speak I, lords, to let you understand, If case some one of you would fly from us, That there's no hoped-for mercy with the brothers More than with ruthless waves, with sands and rocks. Why, courage then! What cannot be avoided 'Twere childish weakness to lament or fear. PRINCE EDWARD Methinks a woman of this valiant spirit Should, if a coward heard her speak these words, Infuse his breast with magnanimity And make him, naked, foil a man-at-arms. I speak not this as doubting any here, For did I but suspect a fearful man, He should have leave to go away betimes, Lest in our need he might infect another And make him of like spirit to himself. If any such be here, as God forbid, Let him depart before we need his help. OXFORD Women and children of so high a courage, And warriors faint? Why, 'twere perpetual shame! O, brave young prince, thy famous grandfather Doth live again in thee. Long mayst thou live To bear his image and renew his glories! SOMERSET And he that will not fight for such a hope, Go home to bed and, like the owl by day, If he arise, be mocked and wondered at. QUEEN MARGARET Thanks, gentle Somerset.--Sweet Oxford, thanks. PRINCE EDWARD And take his thanks that yet hath nothing else. [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER Prepare you, lords, for Edward is at hand, Ready to fight. Therefore be resolute. [He exits.] OXFORD I thought no less. It is his policy To haste thus fast to find us unprovided. SOMERSET But he's deceived. We are in readiness. QUEEN MARGARET This cheers my heart to see your forwardness. OXFORD Here pitch our battle; hence we will not budge. [Flourish, and march. Enter King Edward, Richard, Clarence, and Soldiers, all wearing the white rose.] KING EDWARD, [to his army] Brave followers, yonder stands the thorny wood Which by the heavens' assistance and your strength Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night. I need not add more fuel to your fire, For, well I wot, you blaze to burn them out. Give signal to the fight, and to it, lords! QUEEN MARGARET, [to her army] Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I should say My tears gainsay, for every word I speak You see I drink the water of my eye. Therefore, no more but this: Henry, your sovereign, Is prisoner to the foe, his state usurped, His realm a slaughterhouse, his subjects slain, His statutes cancelled and his treasure spent, And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil. You fight in justice. Then, in God's name, lords, Be valiant, and give signal to the fight! [Alarum, retreat, excursions. They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Flourish. Enter King Edward, Richard, and Clarence, all wearing the white rose, with Soldiers guarding Queen Margaret, Oxford, and Somerset, all wearing the red rose, prisoners.] KING EDWARD Now here a period of tumultuous broils. Away with Oxford to Hames Castle straight. For Somerset, off with his guilty head. Go bear them hence. I will not hear them speak. OXFORD For my part, I'll not trouble thee with words. SOMERSET Nor I, but stoop with patience to my fortune. QUEEN MARGARET So part we sadly in this troublous world To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem. [Oxford and Somerset exit, under guard.] KING EDWARD Is proclamation made that who finds Edward Shall have a high reward, and he his life? RICHARD It is, and lo where youthful Edward comes. [Enter Prince Edward, wearing the red rose, under guard.] KING EDWARD Bring forth the gallant; let us hear him speak. What, can so young a thorn begin to prick?-- Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects, And all the trouble thou hast turned me to? PRINCE EDWARD Speak like a subject, proud ambitious York. Suppose that I am now my father's mouth: Resign thy chair, and where I stand, kneel thou, Whilst I propose the selfsame words to thee Which, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to. QUEEN MARGARET Ah, that thy father had been so resolved! RICHARD That you might still have worn the petticoat And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster. PRINCE EDWARD Let Aesop fable in a winter's night; His currish riddles sorts not with this place. RICHARD By heaven, brat, I'll plague you for that word. QUEEN MARGARET Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to men. RICHARD For God's sake, take away this captive scold. PRINCE EDWARD Nay, take away this scolding crookback, rather. KING EDWARD Peace, willful boy, or I will charm your tongue. CLARENCE, [to Prince Edward] Untutored lad, thou art too malapert. PRINCE EDWARD I know my duty. You are all undutiful. Lascivious Edward, and thou perjured George, And thou misshapen Dick, I tell you all I am your better, traitors as you are, And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine. KING EDWARD Take that, the likeness of this railer here! [Stabs him.] RICHARD Sprawl'st thou? Take that to end thy agony! [Richard stabs him.] CLARENCE And there's for twitting me with perjury. [Clarence stabs him.] QUEEN MARGARET O, kill me too! RICHARD Marry, and shall. [Offers to kill her.] KING EDWARD Hold, Richard, hold, for we have done too much. RICHARD Why should she live to fill the world with words? [Queen Margaret faints.] KING EDWARD What, doth she swoon? Use means for her recovery. [They attempt to revive her.] RICHARD, [taking Clarence aside] Clarence, excuse me to the King my brother. I'll hence to London on a serious matter. Ere you come there, be sure to hear some news. CLARENCE What? What? RICHARD The Tower, the Tower! [He exits.] QUEEN MARGARET, [rising from her swoon] O Ned, sweet Ned, speak to thy mother, boy. Canst thou not speak? O traitors, murderers! They that stabbed Caesar shed no blood at all, Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame, If this foul deed were by to equal it. He was a man; this, in respect, a child, And men ne'er spend their fury on a child. What's worse than murderer, that I may name it? No, no, my heart will burst an if I speak, And I will speak, that so my heart may burst. Butchers and villains, bloody cannibals, How sweet a plant have you untimely cropped! You have no children, butchers. If you had, The thought of them would have stirred up remorse. But if you ever chance to have a child, Look in his youth to have him so cut off As, deathsmen, you have rid this sweet young prince. KING EDWARD Away with her. Go bear her hence perforce. QUEEN MARGARET Nay, never bear me hence! Dispatch me here. Here sheathe thy sword; I'll pardon thee my death. What, wilt thou not?--Then, Clarence, do it thou. CLARENCE By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease. QUEEN MARGARET Good Clarence, do! Sweet Clarence, do thou do it. CLARENCE Didst thou not hear me swear I would not do it? QUEEN MARGARET Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself. 'Twas sin before, but now 'tis charity. What, wilt thou not? Where is that devil's butcher, Richard, Hard-favored Richard? Richard, where art thou? Thou art not here. Murder is thy alms-deed; Petitioners for blood thou ne'er putt'st back. KING EDWARD Away, I say! [(To Soldiers.)] I charge you bear her hence. QUEEN MARGARET So come to you and yours as to this prince! [Queen Margaret exits under guard. Soldiers carry off Prince Edward's body.] KING EDWARD Where's Richard gone? CLARENCE To London all in post, and, as I guess, To make a bloody supper in the Tower. KING EDWARD He's sudden if a thing comes in his head. Now march we hence. Discharge the common sort With pay and thanks, and let's away to London And see our gentle queen how well she fares. By this I hope she hath a son for me. [They exit.] Scene 6 ======= [Enter King Henry the Sixth, wearing the red rose, and Richard of Gloucester, wearing the white rose, with the Lieutenant above on the Tower walls.] RICHARD Good day, my lord. What, at your book so hard? KING HENRY Ay, my good lord--"my lord," I should say rather. 'Tis sin to flatter; "good" was little better: "Good Gloucester" and "good devil" were alike, And both preposterous: therefore, not "good lord." RICHARD, [to Lieutenant] Sirrah, leave us to ourselves; we must confer. [Lieutenant exits.] KING HENRY So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf; So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece And next his throat unto the butcher's knife. What scene of death hath Roscius now to act? RICHARD Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind; The thief doth fear each bush an officer. KING HENRY The bird that hath been limed in a bush, With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush; And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird, Have now the fatal object in my eye Where my poor young was limed, was caught, and killed. RICHARD Why, what a peevish fool was that of Crete That taught his son the office of a fowl! And yet, for all his wings, the fool was drowned. KING HENRY I Daedalus, my poor boy Icarus, Thy father Minos, that denied our course; The sun that seared the wings of my sweet boy Thy brother Edward, and thyself the sea Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life. Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words! My breast can better brook thy dagger's point Than can my ears that tragic history. But wherefore dost thou come? Is 't for my life? RICHARD Think'st thou I am an executioner? KING HENRY A persecutor I am sure thou art. If murdering innocents be executing, Why, then, thou art an executioner. RICHARD Thy son I killed for his presumption. KING HENRY Hadst thou been killed when first thou didst presume, Thou hadst not lived to kill a son of mine. And thus I prophesy: that many a thousand Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear, And many an old man's sigh, and many a widow's And many an orphan's water-standing eye, Men for their sons, wives for their husbands, Orphans for their parents' timeless death, Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born. The owl shrieked at thy birth, an evil sign; The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time; Dogs howled, and hideous tempest shook down trees; The raven rooked her on the chimney's top; And chatt'ring pies in dismal discords sung; Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain, And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope: To wit, an indigested and deformed lump, Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree. Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born To signify thou cam'st to bite the world. And if the rest be true which I have heard, Thou cam'st-- RICHARD I'll hear no more. Die, prophet, in thy speech; [Stabs him.] For this amongst the rest was I ordained. KING HENRY Ay, and for much more slaughter after this. O God, forgive my sins, and pardon thee. [Dies.] RICHARD What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted. See how my sword weeps for the poor king's death. O, may such purple tears be always shed From those that wish the downfall of our house. If any spark of life be yet remaining, Down, down to hell, and say I sent thee thither-- [Stabs him again.] I that have neither pity, love, nor fear. Indeed, 'tis true that Henry told me of, For I have often heard my mother say I came into the world with my legs forward. Had I not reason, think you, to make haste And seek their ruin that usurped our right? The midwife wondered, and the women cried "O Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth!" And so I was, which plainly signified That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog. Then, since the heavens have shaped my body so, Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it. I have no brother, I am like no brother; And this word "love," which graybeards call divine, Be resident in men like one another And not in me. I am myself alone. Clarence, beware; thou keep'st me from the light, But I will sort a pitchy day for thee; For I will buzz abroad such prophecies That Edward shall be fearful of his life; And then to purge his fear, I'll be thy death. King Henry and the Prince his son are gone. Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest, Counting myself but bad till I be best. I'll throw thy body in another room, And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom. [He exits, carrying out the body.] Scene 7 ======= [Flourish. Enter King Edward, Queen Elizabeth, Clarence, Richard of Gloucester, Hastings, Nurse, carrying infant Prince Edward, and Attendants.] KING EDWARD Once more we sit in England's royal throne, Repurchased with the blood of enemies. What valiant foemen, like to autumn's corn, Have we mowed down in tops of all their pride! Three dukes of Somerset, threefold renowned For hardy and undoubted champions; Two Cliffords, as the father and the son; And two Northumberlands; two braver men Ne'er spurred their coursers at the trumpet's sound. With them the two brave bears, Warwick and Montague, That in their chains fettered the kingly lion And made the forest tremble when they roared. Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat And made our footstool of security.-- Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy.-- Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles and myself Have in our armors watched the winter's night, Went all afoot in summer's scalding heat, That thou mightst repossess the crown in peace, And of our labors thou shalt reap the gain. RICHARD, [aside] I'll blast his harvest, if your head were laid; For yet I am not looked on in the world. This shoulder was ordained so thick to heave, And heave it shall some weight or break my back. Work thou the way and that shalt execute. KING EDWARD Clarence and Gloucester, love my lovely queen, And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both. CLARENCE The duty that I owe unto your Majesty I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe. [He kisses the infant.] KING EDWARD Thanks, noble Clarence; worthy brother, thanks. RICHARD And that I love the tree from whence thou sprang'st, Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit. [He kisses the infant.] [Aside.] To say the truth, so Judas kissed his master And cried "All hail!" whenas he meant all harm. KING EDWARD Now am I seated as my soul delights, Having my country's peace and brothers' loves. CLARENCE What will your Grace have done with Margaret? Reignier, her father, to the King of France Hath pawned the Sicils and Jerusalem, And hither have they sent it for her ransom. KING EDWARD Away with her, and waft her hence to France. And now what rests but that we spend the time With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows, Such as befits the pleasure of the court? Sound drums and trumpets! Farewell, sour annoy, For here I hope begins our lasting joy. [Flourish. They all exit.]

Henry VIII by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== KING Henry the Eighth Duke of NORFOLK Duke of SUFFOLK Cardinal WOLSEY, Archbishop of Canterbury SECRETARIES to Wolsey CROMWELL, servant to Wolsey, later secretary to the Privy Council Cardinal CAMPEIUS, Papal Legate GARDINER, secretary to the king, later Bishop of Winchester PAGE to Gardiner QUEEN KATHERINE, Henry's first wife, later Princess Dowager GRIFFITH, attendant on Katherine PATIENCE, woman to Katherine Queen's GENTLEMAN USHER CAPUCHIUS, ambassador from the Emperor Charles Duke of BUCKINGHAM Lord ABERGAVENNY, Buckingham's son-in-law Earl of SURREY, Buckingham's son-in-law Sir Nicholas VAUX Knevet, former SURVEYOR to Buckingham BRANDON SERGEANT at Arms FIRST GENTLEMAN SECOND GENTLEMAN ANNE Bullen, Katherine's lady-in-waiting, later Henry's second wife and queen OLD LADY, with Anne Bullen Lord CHAMBERLAIN Lord SANDS (also Sir Walter SANDS) Sir Thomas LOVELL Sir Henry GUILFORD Bishop of LINCOLN CRANMER, later Archbishop of Canterbury Lord CHANCELLOR GARTER King of Arms THIRD GENTLEMAN Sir Anthony DENNY Doctor BUTTS KEEPER PORTER and his MAN SCRIBES CRIER PROLOGUE EPILOGUE Spirits, Princess Elizabeth as an infant, Duchess of Norfolk, Marquess and Marchioness of Dorset, Lords, Nobles, Countesses, Bishops, Judges, Priests, Ladies, Gentlemen, Gentlemen Ushers, Lord Mayor, Four Representatives of the Cinque Ports, Aldermen, Women, Musicians, Choristers, Guards, Tipstaves, Halberds, Vergers, Attendants, Servants, Messenger, Pages, Footboys, Grooms [Enter Prologue.] PROLOGUE I come no more to make you laugh. Things now That bear a weighty and a serious brow, Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe, Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow, We now present. Those that can pity here May, if they think it well, let fall a tear; The subject will deserve it. Such as give Their money out of hope they may believe May here find truth too. Those that come to see Only a show or two, and so agree The play may pass, if they be still and willing, I'll undertake may see away their shilling Richly in two short hours. Only they That come to hear a merry, bawdy play, A noise of targets, or to see a fellow In a long motley coat guarded with yellow, Will be deceived. For, gentle hearers, know To rank our chosen truth with such a show As fool and fight is, besides forfeiting Our own brains and the opinion that we bring To make that only true we now intend, Will leave us never an understanding friend. Therefore, for goodness' sake, and as you are known The first and happiest hearers of the town, Be sad, as we would make you. Think you see The very persons of our noble story As they were living. Think you see them great, And followed with the general throng and sweat Of thousand friends. Then, in a moment, see How soon this mightiness meets misery. And if you can be merry then, I'll say A man may weep upon his wedding day. [He exits.] ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter the Duke of Norfolk at one door; at the other, the Duke of Buckingham and the Lord Abergavenny.] BUCKINGHAM Good morrow, and well met. How have you done Since last we saw in France? NORFOLK I thank your Grace, Healthful, and ever since a fresh admirer Of what I saw there. BUCKINGHAM An untimely ague Stayed me a prisoner in my chamber when Those suns of glory, those two lights of men, Met in the vale of Andren. NORFOLK 'Twixt Guynes and Arde. I was then present, saw them salute on horseback, Beheld them when they lighted, how they clung In their embracement, as they grew together-- Which had they, what four throned ones could have weighed Such a compounded one? BUCKINGHAM All the whole time I was my chamber's prisoner. NORFOLK Then you lost The view of earthly glory. Men might say Till this time pomp was single, but now married To one above itself. Each following day Became the next day's master, till the last Made former wonders its. Today the French, All clinquant, all in gold, like heathen gods, Shone down the English, and tomorrow they Made Britain India: every man that stood Showed like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were As cherubins, all gilt. The madams too, Not used to toil, did almost sweat to bear The pride upon them, that their very labor Was to them as a painting. Now this masque Was cried incomparable; and th' ensuing night Made it a fool and beggar. The two kings, Equal in luster, were now best, now worst, As presence did present them: him in eye Still him in praise; and being present both, 'Twas said they saw but one, and no discerner Durst wag his tongue in censure. When these suns-- For so they phrase 'em--by their heralds challenged The noble spirits to arms, they did perform Beyond thought's compass, that former fabulous story, Being now seen possible enough, got credit That Bevis was believed. BUCKINGHAM O, you go far. NORFOLK As I belong to worship, and affect In honor honesty, the tract of everything Would by a good discourser lose some life Which action's self was tongue to. All was royal; To the disposing of it naught rebelled. Order gave each thing view. The office did Distinctly his full function. BUCKINGHAM Who did guide, I mean who set the body and the limbs Of this great sport together, as you guess? NORFOLK One, certes, that promises no element In such a business. BUCKINGHAM I pray you who, my lord? NORFOLK All this was ordered by the good discretion Of the right reverend Cardinal of York. BUCKINGHAM The devil speed him! No man's pie is freed From his ambitious finger. What had he To do in these fierce vanities? I wonder That such a keech can with his very bulk Take up the rays o' th' beneficial sun And keep it from the Earth. NORFOLK Surely, sir, There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends; For, being not propped by ancestry, whose grace Chalks successors their way, nor called upon For high feats done to th' crown, neither allied To eminent assistants, but spiderlike, Out of his self-drawing web, he gives us note The force of his own merit makes his way-- A gift that heaven gives for him which buys A place next to the King. ABERGAVENNY I cannot tell What heaven hath given him--let some graver eye Pierce into that--but I can see his pride Peep through each part of him. Whence has he that? If not from hell, the devil is a niggard, Or has given all before, and he begins A new hell in himself. BUCKINGHAM Why the devil, Upon this French going-out, took he upon him, Without the privity o' th' King, t' appoint Who should attend on him? He makes up the file Of all the gentry, for the most part such To whom as great a charge as little honor He meant to lay upon; and his own letter, The honorable board of council out, Must fetch him in he papers. ABERGAVENNY I do know Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have By this so sickened their estates that never They shall abound as formerly. BUCKINGHAM O, many Have broke their backs with laying manors on 'em For this great journey. What did this vanity But minister communication of A most poor issue? NORFOLK Grievingly I think The peace between the French and us not values The cost that did conclude it. BUCKINGHAM Every man, After the hideous storm that followed, was A thing inspired and, not consulting, broke Into a general prophecy: that this tempest, Dashing the garment of this peace, aboded The sudden breach on 't. NORFOLK Which is budded out, For France hath flawed the league and hath attached Our merchants' goods at Bordeaux. ABERGAVENNY Is it therefore Th' ambassador is silenced? NORFOLK Marry, is 't. ABERGAVENNY A proper title of a peace, and purchased At a superfluous rate! BUCKINGHAM Why, all this business Our reverend cardinal carried. NORFOLK Like it your Grace, The state takes notice of the private difference Betwixt you and the Cardinal. I advise you-- And take it from a heart that wishes towards you Honor and plenteous safety--that you read The Cardinal's malice and his potency Together; to consider further that What his high hatred would effect wants not A minister in his power. You know his nature, That he's revengeful, and I know his sword Hath a sharp edge; it's long, and 't may be said It reaches far, and where 'twill not extend, Thither he darts it. Bosom up my counsel; You'll find it wholesome. Lo where comes that rock That I advise your shunning. [Enter Cardinal Wolsey, the purse borne before him, certain of the Guard, and two Secretaries with papers. The Cardinal in his passage fixeth his eye on Buckingham, and Buckingham on him, both full of disdain.] WOLSEY, [aside to a Secretary] The Duke of Buckingham's surveyor, ha? Where's his examination? SECRETARY Here, so please you. [He hands Wolsey a paper.] WOLSEY Is he in person ready? SECRETARY Ay, please your Grace. WOLSEY Well, we shall then know more, and Buckingham Shall lessen this big look. [Cardinal Wolsey and his train exit.] BUCKINGHAM This butcher's cur is venomed-mouthed, and I Have not the power to muzzle him; therefore best Not wake him in his slumber. A beggar's book Outworths a noble's blood. NORFOLK What, are you chafed? Ask God for temp'rance. That's th' appliance only Which your disease requires. BUCKINGHAM I read in 's looks Matter against me, and his eye reviled Me as his abject object. At this instant He bores me with some trick. He's gone to th' King. I'll follow and outstare him. NORFOLK Stay, my lord, And let your reason with your choler question What 'tis you go about. To climb steep hills Requires slow pace at first. Anger is like A full hot horse who, being allowed his way, Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in England Can advise me like you; be to yourself As you would to your friend. BUCKINGHAM I'll to the King, And from a mouth of honor quite cry down This Ipswich fellow's insolence, or proclaim There's difference in no persons. NORFOLK Be advised. Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot That it do singe yourself. We may outrun By violent swiftness that which we run at And lose by overrunning. Know you not The fire that mounts the liquor till 't run o'er In seeming to augment it wastes it? Be advised. I say again there is no English soul More stronger to direct you than yourself, If with the sap of reason you would quench Or but allay the fire of passion. BUCKINGHAM Sir, I am thankful to you, and I'll go along By your prescription. But this top-proud fellow-- Whom from the flow of gall I name not, but From sincere motions--by intelligence, And proofs as clear as founts in July when We see each grain of gravel, I do know To be corrupt and treasonous. NORFOLK Say not "treasonous." BUCKINGHAM To th' King I'll say 't, and make my vouch as strong As shore of rock. Attend. This holy fox, Or wolf, or both--for he is equal rav'nous As he is subtle, and as prone to mischief As able to perform 't, his mind and place Infecting one another, yea reciprocally-- Only to show his pomp as well in France As here at home, suggests the King our master To this last costly treaty, th' interview That swallowed so much treasure and like a glass Did break i' th' rinsing. NORFOLK Faith, and so it did. BUCKINGHAM Pray give me favor, sir. This cunning cardinal The articles o' th' combination drew As himself pleased; and they were ratified As he cried "Thus let be," to as much end As give a crutch to th' dead. But our Count Cardinal Has done this, and 'tis well, for worthy Wolsey, Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows-- Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppy To th' old dam treason: Charles the Emperor, Under pretense to see the Queen his aunt-- For 'twas indeed his color, but he came To whisper Wolsey--here makes visitation; His fears were that the interview betwixt England and France might through their amity Breed him some prejudice, for from this league Peeped harms that menaced him; privily Deals with our cardinal and, as I trow-- Which I do well, for I am sure the Emperor Paid ere he promised, whereby his suit was granted Ere it was asked. But when the way was made And paved with gold, the Emperor thus desired That he would please to alter the King's course And break the foresaid peace. Let the King know-- As soon he shall by me--that thus the Cardinal Does buy and sell his honor as he pleases And for his own advantage. NORFOLK I am sorry To hear this of him, and could wish he were Something mistaken in 't. BUCKINGHAM No, not a syllable. I do pronounce him in that very shape He shall appear in proof. [Enter Brandon, a Sergeant-at-Arms before him, and two or three of the Guard.] BRANDON Your office, Sergeant: execute it. SERGEANT, [to Buckingham] Sir, My lord the Duke of Buckingham and Earl Of Hertford, Stafford, and Northampton, I Arrest thee of high treason, in the name Of our most sovereign king. BUCKINGHAM, [to Norfolk] Lo you, my lord, The net has fall'n upon me. I shall perish Under device and practice. BRANDON I am sorry To see you ta'en from liberty, to look on The business present. 'Tis his Highness' pleasure You shall to th' Tower. BUCKINGHAM It will help me nothing To plead mine innocence, for that dye is on me Which makes my whit'st part black. The will of heaven Be done in this and all things. I obey. O my Lord Abergavenny, fare you well. BRANDON Nay, he must bear you company.--The King Is pleased you shall to th' Tower, till you know How he determines further. ABERGAVENNY As the Duke said, The will of heaven be done, and the King's pleasure By me obeyed. BRANDON Here is a warrant from The King t' attach Lord Mountacute, and the bodies Of the Duke's confessor, John de la Car, One Gilbert Peck, his counselor-- BUCKINGHAM So, so; These are the limbs o' th' plot. No more, I hope. BRANDON A monk o' th' Chartreux. BUCKINGHAM O, Michael Hopkins? BRANDON He. BUCKINGHAM My surveyor is false. The o'ergreat cardinal Hath showed him gold. My life is spanned already. I am the shadow of poor Buckingham, Whose figure even this instant cloud puts on By dark'ning my clear sun. [To Norfolk.] My lord, farewell. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Cornets. Enter King Henry, leaning on the Cardinal's shoulder, with the Nobles, Sir Thomas Lovell, and Attendants, including a Secretary of the Cardinal. The Cardinal places himself under the King's feet on his right side.] KING, [to Wolsey] My life itself, and the best heart of it, Thanks you for this great care. I stood i' th' level Of a full-charged confederacy, and give thanks To you that choked it.--Let be called before us That gentleman of Buckingham's; in person I'll hear him his confessions justify, And point by point the treasons of his master He shall again relate. [A noise within crying "Room for the Queen!" Enter the Queen Katherine, ushered by the Duke of Norfolk, and the Duke of Suffolk. She kneels. The King riseth from his state.] QUEEN KATHERINE Nay, we must longer kneel; I am a suitor. KING Arise, and take place by us. [He takes her up, kisses and placeth her by him.] Half your suit Never name to us; you have half our power. The other moiety ere you ask is given; Repeat your will, and take it. QUEEN KATHERINE Thank your Majesty. That you would love yourself, and in that love Not unconsidered leave your honor nor The dignity of your office, is the point Of my petition. KING Lady mine, proceed. QUEEN KATHERINE I am solicited, not by a few, And those of true condition, that your subjects Are in great grievance. There have been commissions Sent down among 'em which hath flawed the heart Of all their loyalties, wherein, although My good Lord Cardinal, they vent reproaches Most bitterly on you as putter-on Of these exactions, yet the King our master, Whose honor heaven shield from soil, even he escapes not Language unmannerly--yea, such which breaks The sides of loyalty and almost appears In loud rebellion. NORFOLK Not "almost appears"-- It doth appear. For, upon these taxations, The clothiers all, not able to maintain The many to them longing, have put off The spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who, Unfit for other life, compelled by hunger And lack of other means, in desperate manner Daring th' event to th' teeth, are all in uproar, And danger serves among them. KING Taxation? Wherein? And what taxation? My Lord Cardinal, You that are blamed for it alike with us, Know you of this taxation? WOLSEY Please you, sir, I know but of a single part in aught Pertains to th' state, and front but in that file Where others tell steps with me. QUEEN KATHERINE No, my lord? You know no more than others? But you frame Things that are known alike, which are not wholesome To those which would not know them, and yet must Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions Whereof my sovereign would have note, they are Most pestilent to th' hearing, and to bear 'em The back is sacrifice to th' load. They say They are devised by you, or else you suffer Too hard an exclamation. KING Still exaction! The nature of it? In what kind, let's know, Is this exaction? QUEEN KATHERINE I am much too venturous In tempting of your patience, but am boldened Under your promised pardon. The subjects' grief Comes through commissions which compels from each The sixth part of his substance, to be levied Without delay, and the pretense for this Is named your wars in France. This makes bold mouths. Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze Allegiance in them. Their curses now Live where their prayers did; and it's come to pass This tractable obedience is a slave To each incensed will. I would your Highness Would give it quick consideration, for There is no primer baseness. KING By my life, This is against our pleasure. WOLSEY And for me, I have no further gone in this than by A single voice, and that not passed me but By learned approbation of the judges. If I am Traduced by ignorant tongues, which neither know My faculties nor person, yet will be The chronicles of my doing, let me say 'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake That virtue must go through. We must not stint Our necessary actions in the fear To cope malicious censurers, which ever, As ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow That is new trimmed, but benefit no further Than vainly longing. What we oft do best, By sick interpreters, once weak ones, is Not ours or not allowed; what worst, as oft, Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up For our best act. If we shall stand still In fear our motion will be mocked or carped at, We should take root here where we sit, Or sit state-statues only. KING Things done well, And with a care, exempt themselves from fear; Things done without example, in their issue Are to be feared. Have you a precedent Of this commission? I believe, not any. We must not rend our subjects from our laws And stick them in our will. Sixth part of each? A trembling contribution! Why, we take From every tree lop, bark, and part o' th' timber, And though we leave it with a root, thus hacked, The air will drink the sap. To every county Where this is questioned send our letters with Free pardon to each man that has denied The force of this commission. Pray look to 't; I put it to your care. WOLSEY, [aside to his Secretary] A word with you. Let there be letters writ to every shire Of the King's grace and pardon. The grieved commons Hardly conceive of me. Let it be noised That through our intercession this revokement And pardon comes. I shall anon advise you Further in the proceeding. [Secretary exits.] [Enter Buckingham's Surveyor.] QUEEN KATHERINE, [to the King] I am sorry that the Duke of Buckingham Is run in your displeasure. KING It grieves many. The gentleman is learned and a most rare speaker; To nature none more bound; his training such That he may furnish and instruct great teachers And never seek for aid out of himself. Yet see, When these so noble benefits shall prove Not well disposed, the mind growing once corrupt, They turn to vicious forms ten times more ugly Than ever they were fair. This man so complete, Who was enrolled 'mongst wonders, and when we Almost with ravished list'ning could not find His hour of speech a minute--he, my lady, Hath into monstrous habits put the graces That once were his, and is become as black As if besmeared in hell. Sit by us. You shall hear-- This was his gentleman in trust--of him Things to strike honor sad.--Bid him recount The fore-recited practices, whereof We cannot feel too little, hear too much. WOLSEY Stand forth, and with bold spirit relate what you Most like a careful subject have collected Out of the Duke of Buckingham. KING Speak freely. SURVEYOR First, it was usual with him--every day It would infect his speech--that if the King Should without issue die, he'll carry it so To make the scepter his. These very words I've heard him utter to his son-in-law, Lord Abergavenny, to whom by oath he menaced Revenge upon the Cardinal. WOLSEY Please your Highness, note This dangerous conception in this point: Not friended by his wish to your high person, His will is most malignant, and it stretches Beyond you to your friends. QUEEN KATHERINE My learned Lord Cardinal, Deliver all with charity. KING, [to Surveyor] Speak on. How grounded he his title to the crown Upon our fail? To this point hast thou heard him At any time speak aught? SURVEYOR He was brought to this By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Henton. KING What was that Henton? SURVEYOR Sir, a Chartreux friar, His confessor, who fed him every minute With words of sovereignty. KING How know'st thou this? SURVEYOR Not long before your Highness sped to France, The Duke being at the Rose, within the parish Saint Laurence Poultney, did of me demand What was the speech among the Londoners Concerning the French journey. I replied Men fear the French would prove perfidious, To the King's danger. Presently the Duke Said 'twas the fear indeed, and that he doubted 'Twould prove the verity of certain words Spoke by a holy monk "that oft," says he, "Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit John de la Car, my chaplain, a choice hour To hear from him a matter of some moment; Whom after under the confession's seal He solemnly had sworn that what he spoke My chaplain to no creature living but To me should utter, with demure confidence This pausingly ensued: 'Neither the King, nor 's heirs-- Tell you the Duke--shall prosper. Bid him strive To gain the love o' th' commonalty; the Duke Shall govern England.'" QUEEN KATHERINE If I know you well, You were the Duke's surveyor, and lost your office On the complaint o' th' tenants. Take good heed You charge not in your spleen a noble person And spoil your nobler soul. I say, take heed-- Yes, heartily beseech you. KING Let him on.-- Go forward. SURVEYOR On my soul, I'll speak but truth. I told my lord the Duke, by th' devil's illusions The monk might be deceived, and that 'twas dangerous For him to ruminate on this so far until It forged him some design, which, being believed, It was much like to do. He answered "Tush, It can do me no damage," adding further That had the King in his last sickness failed, The Cardinal's and Sir Thomas Lovell's heads Should have gone off. KING Ha! What, so rank? Ah ha! There's mischief in this man! Canst thou say further? SURVEYOR I can, my liege. KING Proceed. SURVEYOR Being at Greenwich, After your Highness had reproved the Duke About Sir William Blumer-- KING I remember of such a time, being my sworn servant, The Duke retained him his. But on. What hence? SURVEYOR "If," quoth he, "I for this had been committed," As to the Tower, I thought, "I would have played The part my father meant to act upon Th' usurper Richard, who, being at Salisbury, Made suit to come in 's presence; which if granted, As he made semblance of his duty, would Have put his knife into him." KING A giant traitor! WOLSEY Now, madam, may his Highness live in freedom And this man out of prison? QUEEN KATHERINE God mend all. KING, [to Surveyor] There's something more would out of thee. What sayst? SURVEYOR After "the Duke his father" with "the knife," He stretched him, and with one hand on his dagger, Another spread on 's breast, mounting his eyes, He did discharge a horrible oath whose tenor Was, were he evil used, he would outgo His father by as much as a performance Does an irresolute purpose. KING There's his period, To sheathe his knife in us! He is attached. Call him to present trial. If he may Find mercy in the law, 'tis his; if none, Let him not seek 't of us. By day and night, He's traitor to th' height! [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Lord Chamberlain and Lord Sands.] CHAMBERLAIN Is 't possible the spells of France should juggle Men into such strange mysteries? SANDS New customs, Though they be never so ridiculous-- Nay, let 'em be unmanly--yet are followed. CHAMBERLAIN As far as I see, all the good our English Have got by the late voyage is but merely A fit or two o' th' face; but they are shrewd ones, For when they hold 'em, you would swear directly Their very noses had been counselors To Pepin or Clotharius, they keep state so. SANDS They have all new legs and lame ones; one would take it, That never see 'em pace before, the spavin Or springhalt reigned among 'em. CHAMBERLAIN Death! My lord, Their clothes are after such a pagan cut to 't, That, sure, they've worn out Christendom. [Enter Sir Thomas Lovell.] How now? What news, Sir Thomas Lovell? LOVELL Faith, my lord, I hear of none but the new proclamation That's clapped upon the court gate. CHAMBERLAIN What is 't for? LOVELL The reformation of our traveled gallants That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors. CHAMBERLAIN I'm glad 'tis there; now I would pray our monsieurs To think an English courtier may be wise And never see the Louvre. LOVELL They must either-- For so run the conditions--leave those remnants Of fool and feather that they got in France, With all their honorable points of ignorance Pertaining thereunto, as fights and fireworks, Abusing better men than they can be Out of a foreign wisdom, renouncing clean The faith they have in tennis and tall stockings, Short blistered breeches, and those types of travel, And understand again like honest men, Or pack to their old playfellows. There, I take it, They may cum privilegio "oui" away The lag end of their lewdness and be laughed at. SANDS 'Tis time to give 'em physic, their diseases Are grown so catching. CHAMBERLAIN What a loss our ladies Will have of these trim vanities! LOVELL Ay, marry, There will be woe indeed, lords. The sly whoresons Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies. A French song and a fiddle has no fellow. SANDS The devil fiddle 'em! I am glad they are going, For sure there's no converting of 'em. Now An honest country lord, as I am, beaten A long time out of play, may bring his plainsong, And have an hour of hearing, and, by 'r Lady, Held current music too. CHAMBERLAIN Well said, Lord Sands. Your colt's tooth is not cast yet? SANDS No, my lord, Nor shall not while I have a stump. CHAMBERLAIN Sir Thomas, Whither were you a-going? LOVELL To the Cardinal's. Your Lordship is a guest too. CHAMBERLAIN O, 'tis true. This night he makes a supper, and a great one, To many lords and ladies. There will be The beauty of this kingdom, I'll assure you. LOVELL That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed, A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us. His dews fall everywhere. CHAMBERLAIN No doubt he's noble; He had a black mouth that said other of him. SANDS He may, my lord. 'Has wherewithal. In him, Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine. Men of his way should be most liberal; They are set here for examples. CHAMBERLAIN True, they are so, But few now give so great ones. My barge stays. Your Lordship shall along.--Come, good Sir Thomas, We shall be late else, which I would not be, For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guilford This night to be comptrollers. SANDS I am your Lordship's. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Hautboys. A small table under a state for the Cardinal, a longer table for the guests. Then enter Anne Bullen and divers other ladies and gentlemen as guests at one door; at another door enter Sir Henry Guilford.] GUILFORD Ladies, a general welcome from his Grace Salutes you all. This night he dedicates To fair content and you. None here, he hopes, In all this noble bevy has brought with her One care abroad. He would have all as merry As, first, good company, good wine, good welcome Can make good people. [Enter Lord Chamberlain, Lord Sands, and Sir Thomas Lovell.] O, my lord, you're tardy! The very thought of this fair company Clapped wings to me. CHAMBERLAIN You are young, Sir Harry Guilford. SANDS Sir Thomas Lovell, had the Cardinal But half my lay thoughts in him, some of these Should find a running banquet, ere they rested, I think would better please 'em. By my life, They are a sweet society of fair ones. LOVELL O, that your Lordship were but now confessor To one or two of these! SANDS I would I were. They should find easy penance. LOVELL Faith, how easy? SANDS As easy as a down bed would afford it. CHAMBERLAIN Sweet ladies, will it please you sit?--Sir Harry, Place you that side; I'll take the charge of this. [The guests are seated.] His Grace is ent'ring. Nay, you must not freeze; Two women placed together makes cold weather. My Lord Sands, you are one will keep 'em waking. Pray sit between these ladies. SANDS By my faith, And thank your Lordship.--By your leave, sweet ladies. [He sits between Anne Bullen and another lady.] If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me; I had it from my father. ANNE Was he mad, sir? SANDS O, very mad, exceeding mad, in love too; But he would bite none. Just as I do now, He would kiss you twenty with a breath. [He kisses Anne.] CHAMBERLAIN Well said, my lord. So, now you're fairly seated, gentlemen, The penance lies on you if these fair ladies Pass away frowning. SANDS For my little cure, Let me alone. [Hautboys. Enter Cardinal Wolsey, with Attendants and Servants, and takes his state.] WOLSEY You're welcome, my fair guests. That noble lady Or gentleman that is not freely merry Is not my friend. This to confirm my welcome, And to you all good health. [He drinks to them.] SANDS Your Grace is noble. Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks And save me so much talking. WOLSEY My Lord Sands, I am beholding to you. Cheer your neighbors.-- Ladies, you are not merry.--Gentlemen, Whose fault is this? SANDS The red wine first must rise In their fair cheeks, my lord. Then we shall have 'em Talk us to silence. ANNE You are a merry gamester, My Lord Sands. SANDS Yes, if I make my play. Here's to your Ladyship, and pledge it, madam, [He drinks to her.] For 'tis to such a thing-- ANNE You cannot show me. SANDS I told your Grace they would talk anon. [Drum and Trumpet. Chambers discharged.] WOLSEY What's that? CHAMBERLAIN Look out there, some of you. [Servants exit.] WOLSEY What warlike voice, And to what end, is this?--Nay, ladies, fear not. By all the laws of war you're privileged. [Enter a Servant.] CHAMBERLAIN How now, what is 't? SERVANT A noble troop of strangers, For so they seem. They've left their barge and landed, And hither make, as great ambassadors From foreign princes. WOLSEY Good Lord Chamberlain, Go, give 'em welcome--you can speak the French tongue-- And pray receive 'em nobly, and conduct 'em Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty Shall shine at full upon them. Some attend him. [Lord Chamberlain exits, with Attendants.] [All rise, and tables removed.] You have now a broken banquet, but we'll mend it. A good digestion to you all; and once more I shower a welcome on you. Welcome all! [Hautboys. Enter King and others as masquers, habited like shepherds, ushered by the Lord Chamberlain. They pass directly before the Cardinal and gracefully salute him.] A noble company! What are their pleasures? CHAMBERLAIN Because they speak no English, thus they prayed To tell your Grace: that, having heard by fame Of this so noble and so fair assembly This night to meet here, they could do no less, Out of the great respect they bear to beauty, But leave their flocks and, under your fair conduct, Crave leave to view these ladies and entreat An hour of revels with 'em. WOLSEY Say, Lord Chamberlain, They have done my poor house grace, for which I pay 'em A thousand thanks and pray 'em take their pleasures. [The masquers choose Ladies. The King chooses Anne Bullen.] KING The fairest hand I ever touched! O beauty, Till now I never knew thee. [Music, Dance.] WOLSEY My lord! CHAMBERLAIN Your Grace? WOLSEY Pray tell 'em thus much from me: There should be one amongst 'em by his person More worthy this place than myself, to whom, If I but knew him, with my love and duty I would surrender it. CHAMBERLAIN I will, my lord. [Whisper with the masquers.] WOLSEY What say they? CHAMBERLAIN Such a one they all confess There is indeed, which they would have your Grace Find out, and he will take it. WOLSEY Let me see, then. [He leaves his state.] By all your good leaves, gentlemen. [He bows before the King.] Here I'll make My royal choice. KING, [unmasking] You have found him, cardinal. You hold a fair assembly; you do well, lord. You are a churchman, or I'll tell you, cardinal, I should judge now unhappily. WOLSEY I am glad Your Grace is grown so pleasant. KING My Lord Chamberlain, Prithee come hither. What fair lady's that? CHAMBERLAIN An 't please your Grace, Sir Thomas Bullen's daughter, The Viscount Rochford, one of her Highness' women. KING By heaven, she is a dainty one.--Sweetheart, I were unmannerly to take you out And not to kiss you. [He kisses Anne.] A health, gentlemen! Let it go round. [He drinks a toast.] WOLSEY Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet ready I' th' privy chamber? LOVELL Yes, my lord. WOLSEY Your Grace, I fear, with dancing is a little heated. KING I fear, too much. WOLSEY There's fresher air, my lord, In the next chamber. KING Lead in your ladies ev'ry one.--Sweet partner, I must not yet forsake you.--Let's be merry, Good my Lord Cardinal. I have half a dozen healths To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure To lead 'em once again, and then let's dream Who's best in favor. Let the music knock it. [They exit, with Trumpets.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter two Gentlemen at several doors.] FIRST GENTLEMAN Whither away so fast? SECOND GENTLEMAN O, God save you. E'en to the Hall to hear what shall become Of the great Duke of Buckingham. FIRST GENTLEMAN I'll save you That labor, sir. All's now done but the ceremony Of bringing back the prisoner. SECOND GENTLEMAN Were you there? FIRST GENTLEMAN Yes, indeed was I. SECOND GENTLEMAN Pray speak what has happened. FIRST GENTLEMAN You may guess quickly what. SECOND GENTLEMAN Is he found guilty? FIRST GENTLEMAN Yes, truly, is he, and condemned upon 't. SECOND GENTLEMAN I am sorry for 't. FIRST GENTLEMAN So are a number more. SECOND GENTLEMAN But pray, how passed it? FIRST GENTLEMAN I'll tell you in a little. The great duke Came to the bar, where to his accusations He pleaded still not guilty and alleged Many sharp reasons to defeat the law. The King's attorney on the contrary Urged on the examinations, proofs, confessions Of divers witnesses, which the Duke desired To him brought viva voce to his face; At which appeared against him his surveyor, Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor, and John Car, Confessor to him, with that devil monk, Hopkins, that made this mischief. SECOND GENTLEMAN That was he That fed him with his prophecies? FIRST GENTLEMAN The same. All these accused him strongly, which he fain Would have flung from him, but indeed he could not. And so his peers upon this evidence Have found him guilty of high treason. Much He spoke, and learnedly, for life, but all Was either pitied in him or forgotten. SECOND GENTLEMAN After all this, how did he bear himself? FIRST GENTLEMAN When he was brought again to th' bar to hear His knell rung out, his judgment, he was stirred With such an agony he sweat extremely And something spoke in choler, ill and hasty. But he fell to himself again, and sweetly In all the rest showed a most noble patience. SECOND GENTLEMAN I do not think he fears death. FIRST GENTLEMAN Sure he does not; He never was so womanish. The cause He may a little grieve at. SECOND GENTLEMAN Certainly The Cardinal is the end of this. FIRST GENTLEMAN 'Tis likely, By all conjectures; first, Kildare's attainder, Then Deputy of Ireland, who, removed, Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too, Lest he should help his father. SECOND GENTLEMAN That trick of state Was a deep envious one. FIRST GENTLEMAN At his return No doubt he will requite it. This is noted, And generally: whoever the King favors, The Card'nal instantly will find employment, And far enough from court too. SECOND GENTLEMAN All the commons Hate him perniciously and, o' my conscience, Wish him ten fathom deep. This duke as much They love and dote on, call him bounteous Buckingham, The mirror of all courtesy. FIRST GENTLEMAN Stay there, sir, And see the noble ruined man you speak of. [Enter Buckingham from his arraignment, Tipstaves before him, the ax with the edge towards him, Halberds on each side, accompanied with Sir Thomas Lovell, Sir Nicholas Vaux, Sir Walter Sands, and Common People, etc.] SECOND GENTLEMAN Let's stand close and behold him. BUCKINGHAM All good people, You that thus far have come to pity me, Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me. I have this day received a traitor's judgment, And by that name must die. Yet heaven bear witness, And if I have a conscience, let it sink me Even as the ax falls, if I be not faithful! The law I bear no malice for my death; 'T has done, upon the premises, but justice. But those that sought it I could wish more Christian. Be what they will, I heartily forgive 'em. Yet let 'em look they glory not in mischief, Nor build their evils on the graves of great men, For then my guiltless blood must cry against 'em. For further life in this world I ne'er hope, Nor will I sue, although the King have mercies More than I dare make faults. You few that loved me And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham, His noble friends and fellows, whom to leave Is only bitter to him, only dying, Go with me like good angels to my end, And as the long divorce of steel falls on me, Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice, And lift my soul to heaven.--Lead on, a' God's name. LOVELL I do beseech your Grace, for charity, If ever any malice in your heart Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly. BUCKINGHAM Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you As I would be forgiven. I forgive all. There cannot be those numberless offenses 'Gainst me that I cannot take peace with. No black envy Shall make my grave. Commend me to his Grace. And if he speak of Buckingham, pray tell him You met him half in heaven. My vows and prayers Yet are the King's and, till my soul forsake, Shall cry for blessings on him. May he live Longer than I have time to tell his years. Ever beloved and loving may his rule be; And when old Time shall lead him to his end, Goodness and he fill up one monument! LOVELL To th' waterside I must conduct your Grace, Then give my charge up to Sir Nicholas Vaux, Who undertakes you to your end. VAUX, [calling as to Officers offstage] Prepare there! The Duke is coming. See the barge be ready, And fit it with such furniture as suits The greatness of his person. BUCKINGHAM Nay, Sir Nicholas, Let it alone. My state now will but mock me. When I came hither, I was Lord High Constable And Duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward Bohun. Yet I am richer than my base accusers, That never knew what truth meant. I now seal it, And with that blood will make 'em one day groan for 't. My noble father, Henry of Buckingham, Who first raised head against usurping Richard, Flying for succor to his servant Banister, Being distressed, was by that wretch betrayed, And, without trial, fell. God's peace be with him. Henry the Seventh, succeeding, truly pitying My father's loss, like a most royal prince Restored me to my honors and out of ruins Made my name once more noble. Now his son, Henry the Eighth, life, honor, name, and all That made me happy at one stroke has taken Forever from the world. I had my trial, And must needs say a noble one, which makes me A little happier than my wretched father. Yet thus far we are one in fortunes: both Fell by our servants, by those men we loved most-- A most unnatural and faithless service. Heaven has an end in all; yet, you that hear me, This from a dying man receive as certain: Where you are liberal of your loves and counsels Be sure you be not loose; for those you make friends And give your hearts to, when they once perceive The least rub in your fortunes, fall away Like water from you, never found again But where they mean to sink you. All good people, Pray for me. I must now forsake you. The last hour Of my long weary life is come upon me. Farewell. And when you would say something that is sad, Speak how I fell. I have done; and God forgive me. [Duke and train exit.] FIRST GENTLEMAN O, this is full of pity, sir! It calls, I fear, too many curses on their heads That were the authors. SECOND GENTLEMAN If the Duke be guiltless, 'Tis full of woe. Yet I can give you inkling Of an ensuing evil, if it fall, Greater than this. FIRST GENTLEMAN Good angels keep it from us! What may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir? SECOND GENTLEMAN This secret is so weighty 'twill require A strong faith to conceal it. FIRST GENTLEMAN Let me have it. I do not talk much. SECOND GENTLEMAN I am confident; You shall, sir. Did you not of late days hear A buzzing of a separation Between the King and Katherine? FIRST GENTLEMAN Yes, but it held not; For when the King once heard it, out of anger He sent command to the Lord Mayor straight To stop the rumor and allay those tongues That durst disperse it. SECOND GENTLEMAN But that slander, sir, Is found a truth now, for it grows again Fresher than e'er it was, and held for certain The King will venture at it. Either the Cardinal, Or some about him near, have, out of malice To the good queen, possessed him with a scruple That will undo her. To confirm this too, Cardinal Campeius is arrived, and lately, As all think, for this business. FIRST GENTLEMAN 'Tis the Cardinal; And merely to revenge him on the Emperor For not bestowing on him at his asking The archbishopric of Toledo this is purposed. SECOND GENTLEMAN I think you have hit the mark. But is 't not cruel That she should feel the smart of this? The Cardinal Will have his will, and she must fall. FIRST GENTLEMAN 'Tis woeful. We are too open here to argue this. Let's think in private more. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Lord Chamberlain, reading this letter.] CHAMBERLAIN My lord, the horses your Lordship sent for, with all the care I had I saw well chosen, ridden, and furnished. They were young and handsome and of the best breed in the north. When they were ready to set out for London, a man of my Lord Cardinal's, by commission and main power, took 'em from me with this reason: his master would be served before a subject, if not before the King, which stopped our mouths, sir. I fear he will indeed; well, let him have them. He will have all, I think. [Enter to the Lord Chamberlain, the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk.] NORFOLK Well met, my Lord Chamberlain. CHAMBERLAIN Good day to both your Graces. SUFFOLK How is the King employed? CHAMBERLAIN I left him private, Full of sad thoughts and troubles. NORFOLK What's the cause? CHAMBERLAIN It seems the marriage with his brother's wife Has crept too near his conscience. SUFFOLK No, his conscience Has crept too near another lady. NORFOLK 'Tis so; This is the Cardinal's doing. The king-cardinal, That blind priest, like the eldest son of Fortune, Turns what he list. The King will know him one day. SUFFOLK Pray God he do! He'll never know himself else. NORFOLK How holily he works in all his business, And with what zeal! For, now he has cracked the league Between us and the Emperor, the Queen's great-nephew, He dives into the King's soul and there scatters Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience, Fears and despairs--and all these for his marriage. And out of all these to restore the King, He counsels a divorce, a loss of her That like a jewel has hung twenty years About his neck, yet never lost her luster; Of her that loves him with that excellence That angels love good men with; even of her That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls, Will bless the King. And is not this course pious? CHAMBERLAIN Heaven keep me from such counsel! 'Tis most true: These news are everywhere, every tongue speaks 'em, And every true heart weeps for 't. All that dare Look into these affairs see this main end, The French king's sister. Heaven will one day open The King's eyes, that so long have slept upon This bold bad man. SUFFOLK And free us from his slavery. NORFOLK We had need pray, And heartily, for our deliverance, Or this imperious man will work us all From princes into pages. All men's honors Lie like one lump before him, to be fashioned Into what pitch he please. SUFFOLK For me, my lords, I love him not nor fear him; there's my creed. As I am made without him, so I'll stand, If the King please. His curses and his blessings Touch me alike: they're breath I not believe in. I knew him and I know him; so I leave him To him that made him proud, the Pope. NORFOLK Let's in, And with some other business put the King From these sad thoughts that work too much upon him.-- My lord, you'll bear us company? CHAMBERLAIN Excuse me; The King has sent me otherwhere. Besides, You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him. Health to your Lordships. NORFOLK Thanks, my good Lord Chamberlain. [Lord Chamberlain exits; and the King draws the curtain and sits reading pensively.] SUFFOLK, [to Norfolk] How sad he looks! Sure he is much afflicted. KING Who's there? Ha? NORFOLK, [to Suffolk] Pray God he be not angry. KING Who's there, I say? How dare you thrust yourselves Into my private meditations? Who am I, ha? NORFOLK A gracious king that pardons all offenses Malice ne'er meant. Our breach of duty this way Is business of estate, in which we come To know your royal pleasure. KING You are too bold. Go to; I'll make you know your times of business. Is this an hour for temporal affairs, ha? [Enter Wolsey and Campeius, with a commission.] Who's there? My good Lord Cardinal? O my Wolsey, The quiet of my wounded conscience, Thou art a cure fit for a king. [To Campeius.] You're welcome, Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom. Use us and it.--My good lord, have great care I be not found a talker. WOLSEY Sir, you cannot. I would your Grace would give us but an hour Of private conference. KING, [to Norfolk and Suffolk] We are busy. Go. NORFOLK, [aside to Suffolk] This priest has no pride in him? SUFFOLK, [aside to Norfolk] Not to speak of. I would not be so sick, though for his place. But this cannot continue. NORFOLK, [aside to Suffolk] If it do, I'll venture one have-at-him. SUFFOLK, [aside to Norfolk] I another. [Norfolk and Suffolk exit.] WOLSEY Your Grace has given a precedent of wisdom Above all princes in committing freely Your scruple to the voice of Christendom. Who can be angry now? What envy reach you? The Spaniard, tied by blood and favor to her, Must now confess, if they have any goodness, The trial just and noble; all the clerks-- I mean the learned ones in Christian kingdoms-- Have their free voices; Rome, the nurse of judgment, Invited by your noble self, hath sent One general tongue unto us, this good man, This just and learned priest, Cardinal Campeius, Whom once more I present unto your Highness. KING And once more in mine arms I bid him welcome, And thank the holy conclave for their loves. They have sent me such a man I would have wished for. [He embraces Campeius.] CAMPEIUS, [handing the King a paper] Your Grace must needs deserve all strangers' loves, You are so noble. To your Highness' hand I tender my commission--by whose virtue, The court of Rome commanding, you, my Lord Cardinal of York, are joined with me their servant In the unpartial judging of this business. KING Two equal men. The Queen shall be acquainted Forthwith for what you come. Where's Gardiner? WOLSEY I know your Majesty has always loved her So dear in heart not to deny her that A woman of less place might ask by law: Scholars allowed freely to argue for her. KING Ay, and the best she shall have, and my favor To him that does best. God forbid else. Cardinal, Prithee call Gardiner to me, my new secretary. I find him a fit fellow. [Wolsey goes to the door.] [Enter Gardiner to Wolsey.] WOLSEY, [aside to Gardiner] Give me your hand. Much joy and favor to you. You are the King's now. GARDINER, [aside to Wolsey] But to be commanded Forever by your Grace, whose hand has raised me. KING Come hither, Gardiner. [The King and Gardiner walk and whisper.] CAMPEIUS My lord of York, was not one Doctor Pace In this man's place before him? WOLSEY Yes, he was. CAMPEIUS Was he not held a learned man? WOLSEY Yes, surely. CAMPEIUS Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread, then, Even of yourself, Lord Cardinal. WOLSEY How? Of me? CAMPEIUS They will not stick to say you envied him And, fearing he would rise--he was so virtuous-- Kept him a foreign man still, which so grieved him That he ran mad and died. WOLSEY Heav'n's peace be with him! That's Christian care enough. For living murmurers, There's places of rebuke. He was a fool, For he would needs be virtuous. That good fellow If I command him follows my appointment. I will have none so near else. Learn this, brother: We live not to be griped by meaner persons. KING, [to Gardiner] Deliver this with modesty to th' Queen. [Gardiner exits.] The most convenient place that I can think of For such receipt of learning is Blackfriars. There you shall meet about this weighty business. My Wolsey, see it furnished. O, my lord, Would it not grieve an able man to leave So sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, conscience! O, 'tis a tender place, and I must leave her. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Anne Bullen and an old Lady.] ANNE Not for that neither. Here's the pang that pinches: His Highness having lived so long with her, and she So good a lady that no tongue could ever Pronounce dishonor of her--by my life, She never knew harm-doing!--O, now, after So many courses of the sun enthroned, Still growing in a majesty and pomp, the which To leave a thousandfold more bitter than 'Tis sweet at first t' acquire--after this process, To give her the avaunt! It is a pity Would move a monster. OLD LADY Hearts of most hard temper Melt and lament for her. ANNE O, God's will! Much better She ne'er had known pomp; though 't be temporal, Yet if that quarrel, Fortune, do divorce It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance panging As soul and body's severing. OLD LADY Alas, poor lady, She's a stranger now again! ANNE So much the more Must pity drop upon her. Verily, I swear, 'tis better to be lowly born And range with humble livers in content Than to be perked up in a glist'ring grief And wear a golden sorrow. OLD LADY Our content Is our best having. ANNE By my troth and maidenhead, I would not be a queen. OLD LADY Beshrew me, I would, And venture maidenhead for 't; and so would you, For all this spice of your hypocrisy. You, that have so fair parts of woman on you, Have too a woman's heart, which ever yet Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty; Which, to say sooth, are blessings; and which gifts, Saving your mincing, the capacity Of your soft cheveril conscience would receive If you might please to stretch it. ANNE Nay, good troth. OLD LADY Yes, troth, and troth. You would not be a queen? ANNE No, not for all the riches under heaven. OLD LADY 'Tis strange. A threepence bowed would hire me, Old as I am, to queen it. But I pray you, What think you of a duchess? Have you limbs To bear that load of title? ANNE No, in truth. OLD LADY Then you are weakly made. Pluck off a little. I would not be a young count in your way For more than blushing comes to. If your back Cannot vouchsafe this burden, 'tis too weak Ever to get a boy. ANNE How you do talk! I swear again, I would not be a queen For all the world. OLD LADY In faith, for little England You'd venture an emballing. I myself Would for Carnarvanshire, although there longed No more to th' crown but that. Lo, who comes here? [Enter Lord Chamberlain.] CHAMBERLAIN Good morrow, ladies. What were 't worth to know The secret of your conference? ANNE My good lord, Not your demand; it values not your asking. Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying. CHAMBERLAIN It was a gentle business, and becoming The action of good women. There is hope All will be well. ANNE Now, I pray God, amen! CHAMBERLAIN You bear a gentle mind, and heav'nly blessings Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady, Perceive I speak sincerely, and high note's Ta'en of your many virtues, the King's Majesty Commends his good opinion of you to you, and Does purpose honor to you no less flowing Than Marchioness of Pembroke, to which title A thousand pound a year annual support Out of his grace he adds. ANNE I do not know What kind of my obedience I should tender. More than my all is nothing, nor my prayers Are not words duly hallowed, nor my wishes More worth than empty vanities. Yet prayers and wishes Are all I can return. 'Beseech your Lordship, Vouchsafe to speak my thanks and my obedience, As from a blushing handmaid, to his Highness, Whose health and royalty I pray for. CHAMBERLAIN Lady, I shall not fail t' approve the fair conceit The King hath of you. [(Aside.)] I have perused her well. Beauty and honor in her are so mingled That they have caught the King. And who knows yet But from this lady may proceed a gem To lighten all this isle?--I'll to the King And say I spoke with you. ANNE My honored lord. [Lord Chamberlain exits.] OLD LADY Why, this it is! See, see! I have been begging sixteen years in court, Am yet a courtier beggarly, nor could Come pat betwixt too early and too late For any suit of pounds; and you--O, fate!-- A very fresh fish here--fie, fie, fie upon This compelled fortune!--have your mouth filled up Before you open it. ANNE This is strange to me. OLD LADY How tastes it? Is it bitter? Forty pence, no. There was a lady once--'tis an old story-- That would not be a queen, that would she not, For all the mud in Egypt. Have you heard it? ANNE Come, you are pleasant. OLD LADY With your theme, I could O'ermount the lark. The Marchioness of Pembroke? A thousand pounds a year for pure respect? No other obligation? By my life, That promises more thousands; honor's train Is longer than his foreskirt. By this time I know your back will bear a duchess. Say, Are you not stronger than you were? ANNE Good lady, Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy, And leave me out on 't. Would I had no being If this salute my blood a jot. It faints me To think what follows. The Queen is comfortless and we forgetful In our long absence. Pray do not deliver What here you've heard to her. OLD LADY What do you think me? [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Trumpets, sennet, and cornets. Enter two Vergers, with short silver wands; next them, two Scribes, in the habit of doctors; after them, the Bishop of Canterbury alone; after him, the Bishops of Lincoln, Ely, Rochester, and Saint Asaph; next them, with some small distance, follows a Gentleman bearing the purse with the great seal, and a cardinal's hat. Then two Priests, bearing each a silver cross; then a Gentleman Usher bare-headed, accompanied with a Sergeant-at-Arms, bearing a silver mace; then two Gentlemen, bearing two great silver pillars. After them, side by side, the two Cardinals, and two Noblemen with the sword and mace. The King takes place under the cloth of state. The two Cardinals sit under him as judges. The Queen takes place some distance from the King. The Bishops place themselves on each side the court, in manner of a consistory; below them the Scribes. The Lords sit next the Bishops. The rest of the Attendants including a Crier and the Queen's Gentleman Usher stand in convenient order about the stage.] WOLSEY Whilst our commission from Rome is read, Let silence be commanded. KING What's the need? It hath already publicly been read, And on all sides th' authority allowed. You may then spare that time. WOLSEY Be 't so. Proceed. SCRIBE Say "Henry King of England, come into the court." CRIER Henry King of England, come into the court. KING Here. SCRIBE Say "Katherine Queen of England, come into the court." CRIER Katherine Queen of England, come into the court. [The Queen makes no answer, rises out of her chair, goes about the court, comes to the King, and kneels at his feet; then speaks.] QUEEN KATHERINE Sir, I desire you do me right and justice, And to bestow your pity on me; for I am a most poor woman and a stranger, Born out of your dominions, having here No judge indifferent nor no more assurance Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir, In what have I offended you? What cause Hath my behavior given to your displeasure That thus you should proceed to put me off And take your good grace from me? Heaven witness I have been to you a true and humble wife, At all times to your will conformable, Ever in fear to kindle your dislike, Yea, subject to your countenance, glad or sorry As I saw it inclined. When was the hour I ever contradicted your desire, Or made it not mine too? Or which of your friends Have I not strove to love, although I knew He were mine enemy? What friend of mine That had to him derived your anger did I Continue in my liking? Nay, gave notice He was from thence discharged? Sir, call to mind That I have been your wife in this obedience Upward of twenty years, and have been blessed With many children by you. If, in the course And process of this time, you can report, And prove it too, against mine honor aught, My bond to wedlock or my love and duty Against your sacred person, in God's name Turn me away and let the foul'st contempt Shut door upon me, and so give me up To the sharp'st kind of justice. Please you, sir, The King your father was reputed for A prince most prudent, of an excellent And unmatched wit and judgment. Ferdinand, My father, King of Spain, was reckoned one The wisest prince that there had reigned by many A year before. It is not to be questioned That they had gathered a wise council to them Of every realm, that did debate this business, Who deemed our marriage lawful. Wherefore I humbly Beseech you, sir, to spare me till I may Be by my friends in Spain advised, whose counsel I will implore. If not, i' th' name of God, Your pleasure be fulfilled. WOLSEY You have here, lady, And of your choice, these reverend fathers, men Of singular integrity and learning, Yea, the elect o' th' land, who are assembled To plead your cause. It shall be therefore bootless That longer you desire the court, as well For your own quiet as to rectify What is unsettled in the King. CAMPEIUS His Grace Hath spoken well and justly. Therefore, madam, It's fit this royal session do proceed And that without delay their arguments Be now produced and heard. QUEEN KATHERINE Lord Cardinal, To you I speak. WOLSEY Your pleasure, madam. QUEEN KATHERINE Sir, I am about to weep; but thinking that We are a queen, or long have dreamed so, certain The daughter of a king, my drops of tears I'll turn to sparks of fire. WOLSEY Be patient yet. QUEEN KATHERINE I will, when you are humble; nay, before, Or God will punish me. I do believe, Induced by potent circumstances, that You are mine enemy, and make my challenge You shall not be my judge; for it is you Have blown this coal betwixt my lord and me-- Which God's dew quench! Therefore I say again, I utterly abhor, yea, from my soul Refuse you for my judge, whom, yet once more, I hold my most malicious foe and think not At all a friend to truth. WOLSEY I do profess You speak not like yourself, who ever yet Have stood to charity and displayed th' effects Of disposition gentle and of wisdom O'ertopping woman's power. Madam, you do me wrong. I have no spleen against you, nor injustice For you or any. How far I have proceeded, Or how far further shall, is warranted By a commission from the Consistory, Yea, the whole Consistory of Rome. You charge me That I "have blown this coal." I do deny it. The King is present. If it be known to him That I gainsay my deed, how may he wound, And worthily, my falsehood, yea, as much As you have done my truth. If he know That I am free of your report, he knows I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him It lies to cure me, and the cure is to Remove these thoughts from you, the which before His Highness shall speak in, I do beseech You, gracious madam, to unthink your speaking And to say so no more. QUEEN KATHERINE My lord, my lord, I am a simple woman, much too weak T' oppose your cunning. You're meek and humble-mouthed; You sign your place and calling, in full seeming, With meekness and humility, but your heart Is crammed with arrogancy, spleen, and pride. You have by fortune and his Highness' favors Gone slightly o'er low steps, and now are mounted Where powers are your retainers, and your words, Domestics to you, serve your will as 't please Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell you, You tender more your person's honor than Your high profession spiritual, that again I do refuse you for my judge, and here, Before you all, appeal unto the Pope To bring my whole cause 'fore his Holiness, And to be judged by him. [She curtsies to the King, and offers to depart.] CAMPEIUS The Queen is obstinate, Stubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, and Disdainful to be tried by 't. 'Tis not well. She's going away. KING Call her again. CRIER Katherine, Queen of England, come into the court. GENTLEMAN USHER Madam, you are called back. QUEEN KATHERINE What need you note it? Pray you, keep your way. When you are called, return. Now, the Lord help! They vex me past my patience. Pray you, pass on. I will not tarry; no, nor ever more Upon this business my appearance make In any of their courts. [Queen and her Attendants exit.] KING Go thy ways, Kate. That man i' th' world who shall report he has A better wife, let him in naught be trusted, For speaking false in that. Thou art, alone-- If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness, Thy meekness saintlike, wifelike government, Obeying in commanding, and thy parts Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out-- The queen of earthly queens. She's noble born, And like her true nobility she has Carried herself towards me. WOLSEY Most gracious sir, In humblest manner I require your Highness That it shall please you to declare in hearing Of all these ears--for where I am robbed and bound, There must I be unloosed, although not there At once and fully satisfied--whether ever I Did broach this business to your Highness, or Laid any scruple in your way which might Induce you to the question on 't, or ever Have to you, but with thanks to God for such A royal lady, spake one the least word that might Be to the prejudice of her present state, Or touch of her good person? KING My Lord Cardinal, I do excuse you; yea, upon mine honor, I free you from 't. You are not to be taught That you have many enemies that know not Why they are so but, like to village curs, Bark when their fellows do. By some of these The Queen is put in anger. You're excused. But will you be more justified? You ever Have wished the sleeping of this business, never desired It to be stirred, but oft have hindered, oft, The passages made toward it. On my honor I speak my good Lord Cardinal to this point And thus far clear him. Now, what moved me to 't, I will be bold with time and your attention. Then mark th' inducement. Thus it came; give heed to 't: My conscience first received a tenderness, Scruple, and prick on certain speeches uttered By th' Bishop of Bayonne, then French ambassador, Who had been hither sent on the debating A marriage 'twixt the Duke of Orleans and Our daughter Mary. I' th' progress of this business, Ere a determinate resolution, he, I mean the Bishop, did require a respite Wherein he might the King his lord advertise Whether our daughter were legitimate, Respecting this our marriage with the dowager, Sometime our brother's wife. This respite shook The bosom of my conscience, entered me, Yea, with a spitting power, and made to tremble The region of my breast; which forced such way That many mazed considerings did throng And pressed in with this caution. First, methought I stood not in the smile of heaven, who had Commanded nature that my lady's womb, If it conceived a male child by me, should Do no more offices of life to 't than The grave does to th' dead, for her male issue Or died where they were made, or shortly after This world had aired them. Hence I took a thought This was a judgment on me, that my kingdom, Well worthy the best heir o' th' world, should not Be gladded in 't by me. Then follows that I weighed the danger which my realms stood in By this my issue's fail, and that gave to me Many a groaning throe. Thus hulling in The wild sea of my conscience, I did steer Toward this remedy whereupon we are Now present here together. That's to say, I meant to rectify my conscience, which I then did feel full sick, and yet not well, By all the reverend fathers of the land And doctors learned. First, I began in private With you, my Lord of Lincoln. You remember How under my oppression I did reek When I first moved you. LINCOLN Very well, my liege. KING I have spoke long. Be pleased yourself to say How far you satisfied me. LINCOLN So please your Highness, The question did at first so stagger me, Bearing a state of mighty moment in 't And consequence of dread, that I committed The daring'st counsel which I had to doubt, And did entreat your Highness to this course Which you are running here. KING I then moved you, My Lord of Canterbury, and got your leave To make this present summons. Unsolicited I left no reverend person in this court, But by particular consent proceeded Under your hands and seals. Therefore go on, For no dislike i' th' world against the person Of the good queen, but the sharp thorny points Of my alleged reasons drives this forward. Prove but our marriage lawful, by my life And kingly dignity, we are contented To wear our mortal state to come with her, Katherine our queen, before the primest creature That's paragoned o' th' world. CAMPEIUS So please your Highness, The Queen being absent, 'tis a needful fitness That we adjourn this court till further day. Meanwhile must be an earnest motion Made to the Queen to call back her appeal She intends unto his Holiness. KING, [aside] I may perceive These cardinals trifle with me. I abhor This dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome. My learned and well-beloved servant Cranmer, Prithee return. With thy approach, I know, My comfort comes along.--Break up the court. I say, set on. [They exit, in manner as they entered.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Queen and her Women, as at work.] QUEEN KATHERINE Take thy lute, wench. My soul grows sad with troubles. Sing, and disperse 'em if thou canst. Leave working. WOMAN [sings song.] Orpheus with his lute made trees And the mountaintops that freeze Bow themselves when he did sing. To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung, as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Everything that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep or, hearing, die. [Enter a Gentleman.] QUEEN KATHERINE How now? GENTLEMAN An 't please your Grace, the two great cardinals Wait in the presence. QUEEN KATHERINE Would they speak with me? GENTLEMAN They willed me say so, madam. QUEEN KATHERINE Pray their Graces To come near. [Gentleman exits.] What can be their business With me, a poor weak woman, fall'n from favor? I do not like their coming, now I think on 't. They should be good men, their affairs as righteous. But all hoods make not monks. [Enter the two Cardinals, Wolsey and Campeius.] WOLSEY Peace to your Highness. QUEEN KATHERINE Your Graces find me here part of a housewife; I would be all, against the worst may happen. What are your pleasures with me, reverend lords? WOLSEY May it please you, noble madam, to withdraw Into your private chamber, we shall give you The full cause of our coming. QUEEN KATHERINE Speak it here. There's nothing I have done yet, o' my conscience, Deserves a corner. Would all other women Could speak this with as free a soul as I do. My lords, I care not, so much I am happy Above a number, if my actions Were tried by ev'ry tongue, ev'ry eye saw 'em, Envy and base opinion set against 'em, I know my life so even. If your business Seek me out, and that way I am wife in, Out with it boldly. Truth loves open dealing. WOLSEY Tanta est erga te mentis integritas, regina serenissima-- QUEEN KATHERINE O, good my lord, no Latin! I am not such a truant since my coming As not to know the language I have lived in. A strange tongue makes my cause more strange, suspicious. Pray speak in English. Here are some will thank you, If you speak truth, for their poor mistress' sake. Believe me, she has had much wrong. Lord Cardinal, The willing'st sin I ever yet committed May be absolved in English. WOLSEY Noble lady, I am sorry my integrity should breed-- And service to his Majesty and you-- So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant. We come not by the way of accusation, To taint that honor every good tongue blesses, Nor to betray you any way to sorrow-- You have too much, good lady--but to know How you stand minded in the weighty difference Between the King and you, and to deliver, Like free and honest men, our just opinions And comforts to your cause. CAMPEIUS Most honored madam, My Lord of York, out of his noble nature, Zeal, and obedience he still bore your Grace, Forgetting, like a good man, your late censure Both of his truth and him--which was too far-- Offers, as I do, in a sign of peace, His service and his counsel. QUEEN KATHERINE, [aside] To betray me.-- My lords, I thank you both for your good wills. You speak like honest men; pray God you prove so. But how to make you suddenly an answer In such a point of weight, so near mine honor-- More near my life, I fear--with my weak wit, And to such men of gravity and learning, In truth I know not. I was set at work Among my maids, full little, God knows, looking Either for such men or such business. For her sake that I have been--for I feel The last fit of my greatness--good your Graces, Let me have time and counsel for my cause. Alas, I am a woman friendless, hopeless. WOLSEY Madam, you wrong the King's love with these fears; Your hopes and friends are infinite. QUEEN KATHERINE In England But little for my profit. Can you think, lords, That any Englishman dare give me counsel, Or be a known friend, 'gainst his Highness' pleasure, Though he be grown so desperate to be honest, And live a subject? Nay, forsooth. My friends, They that must weigh out my afflictions, They that my trust must grow to, live not here. They are, as all my other comforts, far hence In mine own country, lords. CAMPEIUS I would your Grace Would leave your griefs and take my counsel. QUEEN KATHERINE How, sir? CAMPEIUS Put your main cause into the King's protection. He's loving and most gracious. 'Twill be much Both for your honor better and your cause, For if the trial of the law o'ertake you, You'll part away disgraced. WOLSEY He tells you rightly. QUEEN KATHERINE You tell me what you wish for both: my ruin. Is this your Christian counsel? Out upon you! Heaven is above all yet; there sits a judge That no king can corrupt. CAMPEIUS Your rage mistakes us. QUEEN KATHERINE The more shame for you! Holy men I thought you, Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues; But cardinal sins and hollow hearts I fear you. Mend 'em, for shame, my lords. Is this your comfort? The cordial that you bring a wretched lady, A woman lost among you, laughed at, scorned? I will not wish you half my miseries; I have more charity. But say I warned you: Take heed, for heaven's sake, take heed, lest at once The burden of my sorrows fall upon you. WOLSEY Madam, this is a mere distraction. You turn the good we offer into envy. QUEEN KATHERINE You turn me into nothing! Woe upon you And all such false professors. Would you have me-- If you have any justice, any pity, If you be anything but churchmen's habits-- Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me? Alas, has banished me his bed already, His love, too, long ago. I am old, my lords, And all the fellowship I hold now with him Is only my obedience. What can happen To me above this wretchedness? All your studies Make me a curse like this. CAMPEIUS Your fears are worse. QUEEN KATHERINE Have I lived thus long--let me speak myself, Since virtue finds no friends--a wife, a true one-- A woman, I dare say without vainglory, Never yet branded with suspicion-- Have I with all my full affections Still met the King, loved him next heav'n, obeyed him, Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him, Almost forgot my prayers to content him, And am I thus rewarded? 'Tis not well, lords. Bring me a constant woman to her husband, One that ne'er dreamed a joy beyond his pleasure, And to that woman, when she has done most, Yet will I add an honor: a great patience. WOLSEY Madam, you wander from the good we aim at. QUEEN KATHERINE My lord, I dare not make myself so guilty To give up willingly that noble title Your master wed me to. Nothing but death Shall e'er divorce my dignities. WOLSEY Pray hear me. QUEEN KATHERINE Would I had never trod this English earth Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it! You have angels' faces, but heaven knows your hearts. What will become of me now, wretched lady? I am the most unhappy woman living. [To her Women.] Alas, poor wenches, where are now your fortunes? Shipwracked upon a kingdom where no pity, No friends, no hope, no kindred weep for me, Almost no grave allowed me, like the lily That once was mistress of the field and flourished, I'll hang my head and perish. WOLSEY If your Grace Could but be brought to know our ends are honest, You'd feel more comfort. Why should we, good lady, Upon what cause, wrong you? Alas, our places, The way of our profession, is against it. We are to cure such sorrows, not to sow 'em. For goodness' sake, consider what you do, How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly Grow from the King's acquaintance by this carriage. The hearts of princes kiss obedience, So much they love it. But to stubborn spirits They swell and grow as terrible as storms. I know you have a gentle, noble temper, A soul as even as a calm. Pray think us Those we profess: peacemakers, friends, and servants. CAMPEIUS Madam, you'll find it so. You wrong your virtues With these weak women's fears. A noble spirit, As yours was put into you, ever casts Such doubts, as false coin, from it. The King loves you; Beware you lose it not. For us, if you please To trust us in your business, we are ready To use our utmost studies in your service. QUEEN KATHERINE Do what you will, my lords, and pray forgive me If I have used myself unmannerly. You know I am a woman, lacking wit To make a seemly answer to such persons. Pray do my service to his Majesty. He has my heart yet and shall have my prayers While I shall have my life. Come, reverend fathers, Bestow your counsels on me. She now begs That little thought, when she set footing here, She should have bought her dignities so dear. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter the Duke of Norfolk, Duke of Suffolk, Lord Surrey, and Lord Chamberlain.] NORFOLK If you will now unite in your complaints And force them with a constancy, the Cardinal Cannot stand under them. If you omit The offer of this time, I cannot promise But that you shall sustain more new disgraces With these you bear already. SURREY I am joyful To meet the least occasion that may give me Remembrance of my father-in-law the Duke, To be revenged on him. SUFFOLK Which of the peers Have uncontemned gone by him, or at least Strangely neglected? When did he regard The stamp of nobleness in any person Out of himself? CHAMBERLAIN My lords, you speak your pleasures; What he deserves of you and me I know; What we can do to him--though now the time Gives way to us--I much fear. If you cannot Bar his access to th' King, never attempt Anything on him, for he hath a witchcraft Over the King in 's tongue. NORFOLK O, fear him not. His spell in that is out. The King hath found Matter against him that forever mars The honey of his language. No, he's settled, Not to come off, in his displeasure. SURREY Sir, I should be glad to hear such news as this Once every hour. NORFOLK Believe it, this is true. In the divorce his contrary proceedings Are all unfolded, wherein he appears As I would wish mine enemy. SURREY How came His practices to light? SUFFOLK Most strangely. SURREY O, how, how? SUFFOLK The Cardinal's letters to the Pope miscarried And came to th' eye o' th' King, wherein was read How that the Cardinal did entreat his Holiness To stay the judgment o' th' divorce; for if It did take place, "I do," quoth he, "perceive My king is tangled in affection to A creature of the Queen's, Lady Anne Bullen." SURREY Has the King this? SUFFOLK Believe it. SURREY Will this work? CHAMBERLAIN The King in this perceives him how he coasts And hedges his own way. But in this point All his tricks founder, and he brings his physic After his patient's death: the King already Hath married the fair lady. SURREY Would he had! SUFFOLK May you be happy in your wish, my lord, For I profess you have it. SURREY Now, all my joy Trace the conjunction! SUFFOLK My amen to 't. NORFOLK All men's. SUFFOLK There's order given for her coronation. Marry, this is yet but young and may be left To some ears unrecounted. But, my lords, She is a gallant creature and complete In mind and feature. I persuade me, from her Will fall some blessing to this land which shall In it be memorized. SURREY But will the King Digest this letter of the Cardinal's? The Lord forbid! NORFOLK Marry, amen! SUFFOLK No, no. There be more wasps that buzz about his nose Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal Campeius Is stol'n away to Rome, hath ta'en no leave, Has left the cause o' th' King unhandled, and Is posted as the agent of our cardinal To second all his plot. I do assure you The King cried "Ha!" at this. CHAMBERLAIN Now God incense him, And let him cry "Ha!" louder. NORFOLK But, my lord, When returns Cranmer? SUFFOLK He is returned in his opinions, which Have satisfied the King for his divorce, Together with all famous colleges Almost in Christendom. Shortly, I believe, His second marriage shall be published, and Her coronation. Katherine no more Shall be called queen, but princess dowager And widow to Prince Arthur. NORFOLK This same Cranmer's A worthy fellow, and hath ta'en much pain In the King's business. SUFFOLK He has, and we shall see him For it an archbishop. NORFOLK So I hear. SUFFOLK 'Tis so. [Enter Wolsey and Cromwell, meeting.] The Cardinal! NORFOLK Observe, observe; he's moody. [They stand aside.] WOLSEY The packet, Cromwell; Gave 't you the King? CROMWELL To his own hand, in 's bedchamber. WOLSEY Looked he o' th' inside of the paper? CROMWELL Presently He did unseal them, and the first he viewed, He did it with a serious mind; a heed Was in his countenance. You he bade Attend him here this morning. WOLSEY Is he ready To come abroad? CROMWELL I think by this he is. WOLSEY Leave me awhile. [Cromwell exits.] [Aside.] It shall be to the Duchess of Alencon, The French king's sister; he shall marry her. Anne Bullen? No, I'll no Anne Bullens for him. There's more in 't than fair visage. Bullen? No, we'll no Bullens. Speedily I wish To hear from Rome. The Marchioness of Pembroke! NORFOLK He's discontented. SUFFOLK Maybe he hears the King Does whet his anger to him. SURREY Sharp enough, Lord, for thy justice! WOLSEY, [aside] The late queen's gentlewoman, a knight's daughter, To be her mistress' mistress? The Queen's queen? This candle burns not clear. 'Tis I must snuff it; Then out it goes. What though I know her virtuous And well-deserving? Yet I know her for A spleeny Lutheran, and not wholesome to Our cause that she should lie i' th' bosom of Our hard-ruled king. Again, there is sprung up An heretic, an arch-one, Cranmer, one Hath crawled into the favor of the King And is his oracle. NORFOLK He is vexed at something. SURREY I would 'twere something that would fret the string, The master-cord on 's heart. SUFFOLK The King, the King! [Enter King, reading of a schedule, with Lovell and Attendants.] KING What piles of wealth hath he accumulated To his own portion! And what expense by th' hour Seems to flow from him! How i' th' name of thrift Does he rake this together? [Seeing the nobles.] Now, my lords, Saw you the Cardinal? NORFOLK, [indicating Wolsey] My lord, we have Stood here observing him. Some strange commotion Is in his brain. He bites his lip, and starts, Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground, Then lays his finger on his temple, straight Springs out into fast gait, then stops again, Strikes his breast hard, and anon he casts His eye against the moon. In most strange postures We have seen him set himself. KING It may well be There is a mutiny in 's mind. This morning Papers of state he sent me to peruse, As I required, and wot you what I found? There--on my conscience, put unwittingly-- Forsooth, an inventory, thus importing The several parcels of his plate, his treasure, Rich stuffs and ornaments of household, which I find at such proud rate that it outspeaks Possession of a subject. NORFOLK It's heaven's will! Some spirit put this paper in the packet To bless your eye withal. KING, [studying Wolsey] If we did think His contemplation were above the Earth And fixed on spiritual object, he should still Dwell in his musings, but I am afraid His thinkings are below the moon, not worth His serious considering. [King takes his seat, whispers Lovell, who goes to the Cardinal.] WOLSEY Heaven forgive me! Ever God bless your Highness. KING Good my lord, You are full of heavenly stuff and bear the inventory Of your best graces in your mind, the which You were now running o'er. You have scarce time To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span To keep your earthly audit. Sure, in that I deem you an ill husband, and am glad To have you therein my companion. WOLSEY Sir, For holy offices I have a time; a time To think upon the part of business which I bear i' th' state; and Nature does require Her times of preservation, which perforce I, her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal, Must give my tendance to. KING You have said well. WOLSEY And ever may your Highness yoke together, As I will lend you cause, my doing well With my well saying. KING 'Tis well said again, And 'tis a kind of good deed to say well. And yet words are no deeds. My father loved you; He said he did, and with his deed did crown His word upon you. Since I had my office I have kept you next my heart, have not alone Employed you where high profits might come home, But pared my present havings to bestow My bounties upon you. WOLSEY, [aside] What should this mean? SURREY, [aside] The Lord increase this business! KING Have I not made you The prime man of the state? I pray you tell me If what I now pronounce you have found true; And, if you may confess it, say withal If you are bound to us or no. What say you? WOLSEY My sovereign, I confess your royal graces, Showered on me daily, have been more than could My studied purposes requite, which went Beyond all man's endeavors. My endeavors Have ever come too short of my desires, Yet filed with my abilities. Mine own ends Have been mine so, that evermore they pointed To th' good of your most sacred person and The profit of the state. For your great graces Heaped upon me, poor undeserver, I Can nothing render but allegiant thanks, My prayers to heaven for you, my loyalty, Which ever has and ever shall be growing Till death--that winter--kill it. KING Fairly answered. A loyal and obedient subject is Therein illustrated. The honor of it Does pay the act of it, as, i' th' contrary, The foulness is the punishment. I presume That, as my hand has opened bounty to you, My heart dropped love, my power rained honor, more On you than any, so your hand and heart, Your brain, and every function of your power Should--notwithstanding that your bond of duty As 'twere in love's particular--be more To me, your friend, than any. WOLSEY I do profess That for your Highness' good I ever labored More than mine own, that am, have, and will be-- Though all the world should crack their duty to you And throw it from their soul, though perils did Abound as thick as thought could make 'em, and Appear in forms more horrid--yet my duty, As doth a rock against the chiding flood, Should the approach of this wild river break, And stand unshaken yours. KING 'Tis nobly spoken.-- Take notice, lords: he has a loyal breast, For you have seen him open 't. [He hands Wolsey papers.] Read o'er this, And after, this; and then to breakfast with What appetite you have. [King exits, frowning upon the Cardinal; the nobles throng after him smiling and whispering, and exit.] WOLSEY What should this mean? What sudden anger's this? How have I reaped it? He parted frowning from me, as if ruin Leaped from his eyes. So looks the chafed lion Upon the daring huntsman that has galled him, Then makes him nothing. I must read this paper-- I fear, the story of his anger. [He reads one of the papers.] 'Tis so. This paper has undone me. 'Tis th' accompt Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together For mine own ends--indeed, to gain the popedom And fee my friends in Rome. O negligence, Fit for a fool to fall by! What cross devil Made me put this main secret in the packet I sent the King? Is there no way to cure this? No new device to beat this from his brains? I know 'twill stir him strongly; yet I know A way, if it take right, in spite of fortune Will bring me off again. [He looks at another paper.] What's this? "To th' Pope"? The letter, as I live, with all the business I writ to 's Holiness. Nay then, farewell! I have touched the highest point of all my greatness, And from that full meridian of my glory I haste now to my setting. I shall fall Like a bright exhalation in the evening And no man see me more. [Enter to Wolsey the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, the Earl of Surrey, and the Lord Chamberlain.] NORFOLK Hear the King's pleasure, cardinal, who commands you To render up the great seal presently Into our hands, and to confine yourself To Asher House, my Lord of Winchester's, Till you hear further from his Highness. WOLSEY Stay. Where's your commission, lords? Words cannot carry Authority so weighty. SUFFOLK Who dare cross 'em, Bearing the King's will from his mouth expressly? WOLSEY Till I find more than will or words to do it-- I mean your malice--know, officious lords, I dare and must deny it. Now I feel Of what coarse metal you are molded, envy; How eagerly you follow my disgraces, As if it fed you, and how sleek and wanton You appear in everything may bring my ruin. Follow your envious courses, men of malice; You have Christian warrant for 'em, and no doubt In time will find their fit rewards. That seal You ask with such a violence, the King, Mine and your master, with his own hand gave me; Bade me enjoy it, with the place and honors, During my life; and to confirm his goodness, Tied it by letters patents. Now, who'll take it? SURREY The King that gave it. WOLSEY It must be himself, then. SURREY Thou art a proud traitor, priest. WOLSEY Proud lord, thou liest. Within these forty hours Surrey durst better Have burnt that tongue than said so. SURREY Thy ambition, Thou scarlet sin, robbed this bewailing land Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law. The heads of all thy brother cardinals, With thee and all thy best parts bound together, Weighed not a hair of his. Plague of your policy! You sent me Deputy for Ireland, Far from his succor, from the King, from all That might have mercy on the fault thou gav'st him, Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity, Absolved him with an ax. WOLSEY This, and all else This talking lord can lay upon my credit, I answer, is most false. The Duke by law Found his deserts. How innocent I was From any private malice in his end, His noble jury and foul cause can witness.-- If I loved many words, lord, I should tell you You have as little honesty as honor, That in the way of loyalty and truth Toward the King, my ever royal master, Dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be, And all that love his follies. SURREY By my soul, Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou shouldst feel My sword i' th' life blood of thee else.--My lords, Can you endure to hear this arrogance? And from this fellow? If we live thus tamely, To be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet, Farewell, nobility. Let his Grace go forward And dare us with his cap, like larks. WOLSEY All goodness Is poison to thy stomach. SURREY Yes, that goodness Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one, Into your own hands, card'nal, by extortion; The goodness of your intercepted packets You writ to th' Pope against the King. Your goodness, Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious.-- My Lord of Norfolk, as you are truly noble, As you respect the common good, the state Of our despised nobility, our issues, Whom, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen, Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles Collected from his life.--I'll startle you Worse than the sacring bell when the brown wench Lay kissing in your arms, Lord Cardinal. WOLSEY How much, methinks, I could despise this man, But that I am bound in charity against it! NORFOLK Those articles, my lord, are in the King's hand; But thus much, they are foul ones. WOLSEY So much fairer And spotless shall mine innocence arise When the King knows my truth. SURREY This cannot save you. I thank my memory I yet remember Some of these articles, and out they shall. Now, if you can blush and cry "Guilty," cardinal, You'll show a little honesty. WOLSEY Speak on, sir. I dare your worst objections. If I blush, It is to see a nobleman want manners. SURREY I had rather want those than my head. Have at you: First, that without the King's assent or knowledge, You wrought to be a legate, by which power You maimed the jurisdiction of all bishops. NORFOLK Then, that in all you writ to Rome, or else To foreign princes, "ego et rex meus" Was still inscribed, in which you brought the King To be your servant. SUFFOLK Then, that without the knowledge Either of king or council, when you went Ambassador to the Emperor, you made bold To carry into Flanders the great seal. SURREY Item, you sent a large commission To Gregory de Cassado, to conclude, Without the King's will or the state's allowance, A league between his Highness and Ferrara. SUFFOLK That out of mere ambition you have caused Your holy hat to be stamped on the King's coin. SURREY Then, that you have sent innumerable substance-- By what means got I leave to your own conscience-- To furnish Rome and to prepare the ways You have for dignities, to the mere undoing Of all the kingdom. Many more there are Which, since they are of you, and odious, I will not taint my mouth with. CHAMBERLAIN O, my lord, Press not a falling man too far! 'Tis virtue. His faults lie open to the laws; let them, Not you, correct him. My heart weeps to see him So little of his great self. SURREY I forgive him. SUFFOLK Lord Cardinal, the King's further pleasure is-- Because all those things you have done of late By your power legative within this kingdom Fall into th' compass of a praemunire-- That therefore such a writ be sued against you, To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements, Chattels, and whatsoever, and to be Out of the King's protection. This is my charge. NORFOLK And so we'll leave you to your meditations How to live better. For your stubborn answer About the giving back the great seal to us, The King shall know it and, no doubt, shall thank you. So, fare you well, my little good Lord Cardinal. WOLSEY So, farewell to the little good you bear me. [All but Wolsey exit.] Farewell? A long farewell to all my greatness! This is the state of man: today he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes; tomorrow blossoms And bears his blushing honors thick upon him; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root, And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth. My high-blown pride At length broke under me and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream that must forever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate you. I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors! There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again. [Enter Cromwell, standing amazed.] Why, how now, Cromwell? CROMWELL I have no power to speak, sir. WOLSEY What, amazed At my misfortunes? Can thy spirit wonder A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep, I am fall'n indeed. CROMWELL How does your Grace? WOLSEY Why, well. Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. I know myself now, and I feel within me A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience. The King has cured me-- I humbly thank his Grace--and from these shoulders, These ruined pillars, out of pity, taken A load would sink a navy: too much honor. O, 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven. CROMWELL I am glad your Grace has made that right use of it. WOLSEY I hope I have. I am able now, methinks, Out of a fortitude of soul I feel, To endure more miseries and greater far Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer. What news abroad? CROMWELL The heaviest and the worst Is your displeasure with the King. WOLSEY God bless him. CROMWELL The next is that Sir Thomas More is chosen Lord Chancellor in your place. WOLSEY That's somewhat sudden. But he's a learned man. May he continue Long in his Highness' favor and do justice For truth's sake and his conscience, that his bones, When he has run his course and sleeps in blessings, May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on him. What more? CROMWELL That Cranmer is returned with welcome, Installed Lord Archbishop of Canterbury. WOLSEY That's news indeed. CROMWELL Last, that the Lady Anne, Whom the King hath in secrecy long married, This day was viewed in open as his queen, Going to chapel, and the voice is now Only about her coronation. WOLSEY There was the weight that pulled me down. O Cromwell, The King has gone beyond me. All my glories In that one woman I have lost forever. No sun shall ever usher forth mine honors, Or gild again the noble troops that waited Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell. I am a poor fall'n man, unworthy now To be thy lord and master. Seek the King; That sun, I pray, may never set! I have told him What and how true thou art. He will advance thee; Some little memory of me will stir him-- I know his noble nature--not to let Thy hopeful service perish too. Good Cromwell, Neglect him not. Make use now, and provide For thine own future safety. CROMWELL, [weeping] O, my lord, Must I then leave you? Must I needs forgo So good, so noble, and so true a master? Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron, With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord. The King shall have my service, but my prayers Forever and forever shall be yours. WOLSEY, [weeping] Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries, but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes. And thus far hear me, Cromwell, And when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me more must be heard of, say I taught thee; Say Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory And sounded all the depths and shoals of honor, Found thee a way, out of his wrack, to rise in, A sure and safe one, though thy master missed it. Mark but my fall and that that ruined me. Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition! By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then, The image of his maker, hope to win by it? Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee. Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not. Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's. Then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the King. And, prithee, lead me in. There take an inventory of all I have To the last penny; 'tis the King's. My robe And my integrity to heaven is all I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell, Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, He would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies. CROMWELL Good sir, have patience. WOLSEY So I have. Farewell, The hopes of court! My hopes in heaven do dwell. [They exit.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter two Gentlemen, meeting one another, the First Gentleman carrying a paper.] FIRST GENTLEMAN You're well met once again. SECOND GENTLEMAN So are you. FIRST GENTLEMAN You come to take your stand here and behold The Lady Anne pass from her coronation? SECOND GENTLEMAN 'Tis all my business. At our last encounter, The Duke of Buckingham came from his trial. FIRST GENTLEMAN 'Tis very true. But that time offered sorrow, This general joy. SECOND GENTLEMAN 'Tis well. The citizens I am sure have shown at full their royal minds, As, let 'em have their rights, they are ever forward In celebration of this day with shows, Pageants, and sights of honor. FIRST GENTLEMAN Never greater, Nor, I'll assure you, better taken, sir. SECOND GENTLEMAN May I be bold to ask what that contains, That paper in your hand? FIRST GENTLEMAN Yes, 'tis the list Of those that claim their offices this day By custom of the coronation. The Duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims To be High Steward; next, the Duke of Norfolk, He to be Earl Marshal. You may read the rest. [He offers him the paper.] SECOND GENTLEMAN I thank you, sir. Had I not known those customs, I should have been beholding to your paper. But I beseech you, what's become of Katherine, The Princess Dowager? How goes her business? FIRST GENTLEMAN That I can tell you too. The Archbishop Of Canterbury, accompanied with other Learned and reverend fathers of his order, Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles off From Ampthill, where the Princess lay, to which She was often cited by them, but appeared not; And, to be short, for not appearance and The King's late scruple, by the main assent Of all these learned men she was divorced, And the late marriage made of none effect; Since which she was removed to Kymmalton, Where she remains now sick. SECOND GENTLEMAN Alas, good lady! [Hautboys. A lively flourish of trumpets.] The trumpets sound. Stand close. The Queen is coming. [Then, enter two Judges; Lord Chancellor, with purse and mace before him. Choristers singing. Music. Enter Mayor of London, bearing the mace. Then Garter, in his coat of arms, and on his head he wore a gilt copper crown.] A royal train, believe me! These I know. [Enter Marques Dorset, bearing a scepter of gold; on his head a demi-coronal of gold. With him, the Earl of Surrey, bearing the rod of silver with the dove, crowned with an earl's coronet. Collars of S's.] Who's that that bears the scepter? FIRST GENTLEMAN Marques Dorset, And that the Earl of Surrey with the rod. SECOND GENTLEMAN A bold brave gentleman. [Enter Duke of Suffolk, in his robe of estate, his coronet on his head, bearing a long white wand, as High Steward. With him, the Duke of Norfolk, with the rod of Marshalship, a coronet on his head. Collars of S's.] That should be The Duke of Suffolk. FIRST GENTLEMAN 'Tis the same: High Steward. SECOND GENTLEMAN And that my Lord of Norfolk? FIRST GENTLEMAN Yes. [Enter a canopy, borne by four of the Cinque-ports, under it the Queen in her robe, in her hair, richly adorned with pearl, crowned. On each side her, the Bishops of London and Winchester.] SECOND GENTLEMAN Heaven bless thee! Thou hast the sweetest face I ever looked on.-- Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel. Our king has all the Indies in his arms, And more, and richer, when he strains that lady. I cannot blame his conscience. FIRST GENTLEMAN They that bear The cloth of honor over her are four barons Of the Cinque-ports. SECOND GENTLEMAN Those men are happy, and so are all are near her. [Enter the Old Duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of gold wrought with flowers, bearing the Queen's train. Certain Ladies or Countesses, with plain circlets of gold without flowers.] I take it she that carries up the train Is that old noble lady, Duchess of Norfolk. FIRST GENTLEMAN It is, and all the rest are countesses. SECOND GENTLEMAN Their coronets say so. These are stars indeed. FIRST GENTLEMAN And sometimes falling ones. SECOND GENTLEMAN No more of that. [The Coronation procession exits, having passed over the stage in order and state, and then a great flourish of trumpets.] [Enter a third Gentleman.] FIRST GENTLEMAN God save you, sir. Where have you been broiling? THIRD GENTLEMAN Among the crowd i' th' Abbey, where a finger Could not be wedged in more. I am stifled With the mere rankness of their joy. SECOND GENTLEMAN You saw The ceremony? THIRD GENTLEMAN That I did. FIRST GENTLEMAN How was it? THIRD GENTLEMAN Well worth the seeing. SECOND GENTLEMAN Good sir, speak it to us! THIRD GENTLEMAN As well as I am able. The rich stream Of lords and ladies, having brought the Queen To a prepared place in the choir, fell off A distance from her, while her Grace sat down To rest awhile, some half an hour or so, In a rich chair of state, opposing freely The beauty of her person to the people. Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman That ever lay by man, which when the people Had the full view of, such a noise arose As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest-- As loud and to as many tunes. Hats, cloaks, Doublets, I think, flew up, and had their faces Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy I never saw before. Great-bellied women That had not half a week to go, like rams In the old time of war, would shake the press And make 'em reel before 'em. No man living Could say "This is my wife there," all were woven So strangely in one piece. SECOND GENTLEMAN But what followed? THIRD GENTLEMAN At length her Grace rose, and with modest paces Came to the altar, where she kneeled and saintlike Cast her fair eyes to heaven and prayed devoutly, Then rose again and bowed her to the people. When by the Archbishop of Canterbury She had all the royal makings of a queen-- As, holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown, The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems-- Laid nobly on her; which performed, the choir, With all the choicest music of the kingdom, Together sung Te Deum. So she parted, And with the same full state paced back again To York Place, where the feast is held. FIRST GENTLEMAN Sir, You must no more call it "York Place"; that's past, For since the Cardinal fell, that title's lost. 'Tis now the King's and called "Whitehall." THIRD GENTLEMAN I know it, But 'tis so lately altered that the old name Is fresh about me. SECOND GENTLEMAN What two reverend bishops Were those that went on each side of the Queen? THIRD GENTLEMAN Stokeley and Gardiner, the one of Winchester, Newly preferred from the King's secretary, The other London. SECOND GENTLEMAN He of Winchester Is held no great good lover of the Archbishop's, The virtuous Cranmer. THIRD GENTLEMAN All the land knows that. However, yet there is no great breach. When it comes, Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from him. SECOND GENTLEMAN Who may that be, I pray you? THIRD GENTLEMAN Thomas Cromwell, A man in much esteem with th' King, and truly A worthy friend. The King has made him Master o' th' Jewel House, And one already of the Privy Council. SECOND GENTLEMAN He will deserve more. THIRD GENTLEMAN Yes, without all doubt. Come, gentlemen, you shall go my way, Which is to th' court, and there you shall be my guests, Something I can command. As I walk thither, I'll tell you more. BOTH You may command us, sir. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Katherine Dowager, sick, led between Griffith, her gentleman usher, and Patience, her woman.] GRIFFITH How does your Grace? KATHERINE O Griffith, sick to death. My legs like loaden branches bow to th' earth, Willing to leave their burden. Reach a chair. [She sits.] So. Now, methinks, I feel a little ease. Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou ledst me, That the great child of honor, Cardinal Wolsey, Was dead? GRIFFITH Yes, madam, but I think your Grace, Out of the pain you suffered, gave no ear to 't. KATHERINE Prithee, good Griffith, tell me how he died. If well, he stepped before me happily For my example. GRIFFITH Well, the voice goes, madam; For after the stout Earl Northumberland Arrested him at York and brought him forward, As a man sorely tainted, to his answer, He fell sick suddenly and grew so ill He could not sit his mule. KATHERINE Alas, poor man! GRIFFITH At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester, Lodged in the abbey, where the reverend abbot With all his convent honorably received him; To whom he gave these words: "O Father Abbot, An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among you. Give him a little earth, for charity." So went to bed, where eagerly his sickness Pursued him still; and three nights after this, About the hour of eight, which he himself Foretold should be his last, full of repentance, Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows, He gave his honors to the world again, His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace. KATHERINE So may he rest. His faults lie gently on him! Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him, And yet with charity. He was a man Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking Himself with princes; one that by suggestion Tied all the kingdom. Simony was fair play. His own opinion was his law. I' th' presence He would say untruths, and be ever double Both in his words and meaning. He was never, But where he meant to ruin, pitiful. His promises were, as he then was, mighty, But his performance, as he is now, nothing. Of his own body he was ill, and gave The clergy ill example. GRIFFITH Noble madam, Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues We write in water. May it please your Highness To hear me speak his good now? KATHERINE Yes, good Griffith; I were malicious else. GRIFFITH This cardinal, Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly Was fashioned to much honor. From his cradle He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one: Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading; Lofty and sour to them that loved him not, But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer. And though he were unsatisfied in getting, Which was a sin, yet in bestowing, madam, He was most princely. Ever witness for him Those twins of learning that he raised in you, Ipswich and Oxford, one of which fell with him, Unwilling to outlive the good that did it; The other, though unfinished, yet so famous, So excellent in art, and still so rising, That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. His overthrow heaped happiness upon him, For then, and not till then, he felt himself, And found the blessedness of being little. And, to add greater honors to his age Than man could give him, he died fearing God. KATHERINE After my death I wish no other herald, No other speaker of my living actions, To keep mine honor from corruption But such an honest chronicler as Griffith. Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me, With thy religious truth and modesty, Now in his ashes honor. Peace be with him!-- Patience, be near me still, and set me lower. I have not long to trouble thee.--Good Griffith, Cause the musicians play me that sad note I named my knell, whilst I sit meditating On that celestial harmony I go to. [Sad and solemn music.] GRIFFITH She is asleep. Good wench, let's sit down quiet, For fear we wake her. Softly, gentle Patience. [They sit.] [The Vision. Enter, solemnly tripping one after another, six Personages clad in white robes, wearing on their heads garlands of bays, and golden vizards on their faces, branches of bays or palm in their hands. They first congee unto her, then dance; and, at certain changes, the first two hold a spare garland over her head, at which the other four make reverent curtsies. Then the two that held the garland deliver the same to the other next two, who observe the same order in their changes and holding the garland over her head; which done, they deliver the same garland to the last two, who likewise observe the same order. At which, as it were by inspiration, she makes in her sleep signs of rejoicing and holdeth up her hands to heaven; and so, in their dancing, vanish, carrying the garland with them.] [The music continues.] KATHERINE, [waking] Spirits of peace, where are you? Are you all gone, And leave me here in wretchedness behind you? GRIFFITH Madam, we are here. KATHERINE It is not you I call for. Saw you none enter since I slept? GRIFFITH None, madam. KATHERINE No? Saw you not, even now, a blessed troop Invite me to a banquet, whose bright faces Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun? They promised me eternal happiness And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel I am not worthy yet to wear. I shall, assuredly. GRIFFITH I am most joyful, madam, such good dreams Possess your fancy. KATHERINE Bid the music leave. They are harsh and heavy to me. [Music ceases.] PATIENCE, [aside to Griffith] Do you note How much her Grace is altered on the sudden? How long her face is drawn? How pale she looks, And of an earthy cold? Mark her eyes. GRIFFITH, [aside to Patience] She is going, wench. Pray, pray. PATIENCE Heaven comfort her! [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER, [to Katherine] An 't like your Grace-- KATHERINE You are a saucy fellow. Deserve we no more reverence? GRIFFITH, [to Messenger] You are to blame, Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness, To use so rude behavior. Go to. Kneel. MESSENGER, [kneeling] I humbly do entreat your Highness' pardon. My haste made me unmannerly. There is staying A gentleman sent from the King to see you. KATHERINE Admit him entrance, Griffith. [Messenger rises.] But this fellow Let me ne'er see again. [Messenger exits.] [Enter Lord Capuchius.] If my sight fail not, You should be Lord Ambassador from the Emperor, My royal nephew, and your name Capuchius. CAPUCHIUS Madam, the same. Your servant. KATHERINE O my lord, The times and titles now are altered strangely With me since first you knew me. But I pray you, What is your pleasure with me? CAPUCHIUS Noble lady, First, mine own service to your Grace; the next, The King's request that I would visit you, Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me Sends you his princely commendations, And heartily entreats you take good comfort. KATHERINE O, my good lord, that comfort comes too late; 'Tis like a pardon after execution. That gentle physic given in time had cured me. But now I am past all comforts here but prayers. How does his Highness? CAPUCHIUS Madam, in good health. KATHERINE So may he ever do, and ever flourish, When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name Banished the kingdom.--Patience, is that letter I caused you write yet sent away? PATIENCE No, madam. [She presents a paper to Katherine, who gives it to Capuchius.] KATHERINE Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver This to my lord the King-- CAPUCHIUS Most willing, madam. KATHERINE In which I have commended to his goodness The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter-- The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her!-- Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding-- She is young and of a noble, modest nature; I hope she will deserve well--and a little To love her for her mother's sake that loved him, Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition Is that his noble Grace would have some pity Upon my wretched women, that so long Have followed both my fortunes faithfully, Of which there is not one, I dare avow-- And now I should not lie--but will deserve, For virtue and true beauty of the soul, For honesty and decent carriage, A right good husband. Let him be a noble; And sure those men are happy that shall have 'em. The last is for my men--they are the poorest, But poverty could never draw 'em from me-- That they may have their wages duly paid 'em, And something over to remember me by. If heaven had pleased to have given me longer life And able means, we had not parted thus. These are the whole contents. And, good my lord, By that you love the dearest in this world, As you wish Christian peace to souls departed, Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the King To do me this last right. CAPUCHIUS By heaven, I will, Or let me lose the fashion of a man! KATHERINE I thank you, honest lord. Remember me In all humility unto his Highness. Say his long trouble now is passing Out of this world. Tell him in death I blessed him, For so I will. Mine eyes grow dim. Farewell, My lord.--Griffith, farewell.--Nay, Patience, You must not leave me yet. I must to bed; Call in more women. When I am dead, good wench, Let me be used with honor. Strew me over With maiden flowers, that all the world may know I was a chaste wife to my grave. Embalm me, Then lay me forth. Although unqueened, yet like A queen and daughter to a king inter me. I can no more. [They exit, leading Katherine.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a torch before him, met by Sir Thomas Lovell.] GARDINER It's one o'clock, boy, is 't not? PAGE It hath struck. GARDINER These should be hours for necessities, Not for delights; times to repair our nature With comforting repose, and not for us To waste these times.--Good hour of night, Sir Thomas. Whither so late? LOVELL Came you from the King, my lord? GARDINER I did, Sir Thomas, and left him at primero With the Duke of Suffolk. LOVELL I must to him too, Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave. GARDINER Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell. What's the matter? It seems you are in haste. An if there be No great offense belongs to 't, give your friend Some touch of your late business. Affairs that walk, As they say spirits do, at midnight have In them a wilder nature than the business That seeks dispatch by day. LOVELL My lord, I love you, And durst commend a secret to your ear Much weightier than this work. The Queen's in labor-- They say in great extremity--and feared She'll with the labor end. GARDINER The fruit she goes with I pray for heartily, that it may find Good time and live; but for the stock, Sir Thomas, I wish it grubbed up now. LOVELL Methinks I could Cry the amen, and yet my conscience says She's a good creature and, sweet lady, does Deserve our better wishes. GARDINER But, sir, sir, Hear me, Sir Thomas. You're a gentleman Of mine own way. I know you wise, religious; And let me tell you, it will ne'er be well, 'Twill not, Sir Thomas Lovell, take 't of me, Till Cranmer, Cromwell--her two hands--and she Sleep in their graves. LOVELL Now, sir, you speak of two The most remarked i' th' kingdom. As for Cromwell, Besides that of the Jewel House, is made Master O' th' Rolls and the King's secretary; further, sir, Stands in the gap and trade of more preferments, With which the time will load him. Th' Archbishop Is the King's hand and tongue, and who dare speak One syllable against him? GARDINER Yes, yes, Sir Thomas, There are that dare, and I myself have ventured To speak my mind of him. And indeed this day, Sir--I may tell it you, I think--I have Incensed the lords o' th' Council that he is-- For so I know he is, they know he is-- A most arch heretic, a pestilence That does infect the land; with which they, moved, Have broken with the King, who hath so far Given ear to our complaint, of his great grace And princely care foreseeing those fell mischiefs Our reasons laid before him, hath commanded Tomorrow morning to the Council board He be convented. He's a rank weed, Sir Thomas, And we must root him out. From your affairs I hinder you too long. Goodnight, Sir Thomas. LOVELL Many good nights, my lord. I rest your servant. [Gardiner and Page exit.] [Enter King and Suffolk.] KING Charles, I will play no more tonight. My mind's not on 't; you are too hard for me. SUFFOLK Sir, I did never win of you before. KING But little, Charles, Nor shall not when my fancy's on my play.-- Now, Lovell, from the Queen what is the news? LOVELL I could not personally deliver to her What you commanded me, but by her woman I sent your message, who returned her thanks In the great'st humbleness, and desired your Highness Most heartily to pray for her. KING What sayst thou, ha? To pray for her? What, is she crying out? LOVELL So said her woman, and that her suff'rance made Almost each pang a death. KING Alas, good lady! SUFFOLK God safely quit her of her burden, and With gentle travail, to the gladding of Your Highness with an heir! KING 'Tis midnight, Charles. Prithee, to bed, and in thy prayers remember Th' estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone, For I must think of that which company Would not be friendly to. SUFFOLK I wish your Highness A quiet night, and my good mistress will Remember in my prayers. KING Charles, good night. [Suffolk exits.] [Enter Sir Anthony Denny.] Well, sir, what follows? DENNY Sir, I have brought my lord the Archbishop, As you commanded me. KING Ha! Canterbury? DENNY Ay, my good lord. KING 'Tis true. Where is he, Denny? DENNY He attends your Highness' pleasure. KING Bring him to us. [Denny exits.] LOVELL, [aside] This is about that which the Bishop spake. I am happily come hither. [Enter Cranmer and Denny.] KING Avoid the gallery. [Lovell seems to stay.] Ha! I have said. Be gone! What! [Lovell and Denny exit.] CRANMER, [aside] I am fearful. Wherefore frowns he thus? 'Tis his aspect of terror. All's not well. KING How now, my lord? You do desire to know Wherefore I sent for you. CRANMER, [kneeling] It is my duty T' attend your Highness' pleasure. KING Pray you arise, My good and gracious Lord of Canterbury. Come, you and I must walk a turn together. I have news to tell you. Come, come, give me your hand. [Cranmer rises.] Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak, And am right sorry to repeat what follows. I have, and most unwillingly, of late Heard many grievous--I do say, my lord, Grievous--complaints of you, which, being considered, Have moved us and our Council that you shall This morning come before us, where I know You cannot with such freedom purge yourself But that, till further trial in those charges Which will require your answer, you must take Your patience to you and be well contented To make your house our Tower. You a brother of us, It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness Would come against you. CRANMER, [kneeling] I humbly thank your Highness, And am right glad to catch this good occasion Most throughly to be winnowed, where my chaff And corn shall fly asunder. For I know There's none stands under more calumnious tongues Than I myself, poor man. KING Stand up, good Canterbury! Thy truth and thy integrity is rooted In us, thy friend. Give me thy hand. Stand up. [Cranmer rises.] Prithee, let's walk. Now by my halidom, What manner of man are you? My lord, I looked You would have given me your petition that I should have ta'en some pains to bring together Yourself and your accusers and to have heard you Without endurance further. CRANMER Most dread liege, The good I stand on is my truth and honesty. If they shall fail, I with mine enemies Will triumph o'er my person, which I weigh not, Being of those virtues vacant. I fear nothing What can be said against me. KING Know you not How your state stands i' th' world, with the whole world? Your enemies are many and not small; their practices Must bear the same proportion, and not ever The justice and the truth o' th' question carries The due o' th' verdict with it. At what ease Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt To swear against you? Such things have been done. You are potently opposed, and with a malice Of as great size. Ween you of better luck, I mean in perjured witness, than your master, Whose minister you are, whiles here he lived Upon this naughty earth? Go to, go to. You take a precipice for no leap of danger And woo your own destruction. CRANMER God and your Majesty Protect mine innocence, or I fall into The trap is laid for me. KING Be of good cheer. They shall no more prevail than we give way to. Keep comfort to you, and this morning see You do appear before them. If they shall chance, In charging you with matters, to commit you, The best persuasions to the contrary Fail not to use, and with what vehemency Th' occasion shall instruct you. If entreaties Will render you no remedy, this ring Deliver them, and your appeal to us There make before them. [He gives Cranmer a ring.] [Aside.] Look, the good man weeps! He's honest, on mine honor! God's blest mother, I swear he is truehearted, and a soul None better in my kingdom.--Get you gone, And do as I have bid you. [Cranmer exits.] He has strangled His language in his tears. LOVELL [(within)] Come back! What mean you? [Enter Old Lady, followed by Lovell.] OLD LADY I'll not come back! The tidings that I bring Will make my boldness manners.--Now, good angels Fly o'er thy royal head and shade thy person Under their blessed wings! KING Now by thy looks I guess thy message. Is the Queen delivered? Say "Ay, and of a boy." OLD LADY Ay, ay, my liege, And of a lovely boy. The God of heaven Both now and ever bless her! 'Tis a girl Promises boys hereafter. Sir, your queen Desires your visitation, and to be Acquainted with this stranger. 'Tis as like you As cherry is to cherry. KING Lovell. LOVELL Sir. KING Give her an hundred marks. I'll to the Queen. [King exits.] OLD LADY An hundred marks? By this light, I'll ha' more. An ordinary groom is for such payment. I will have more or scold it out of him. Said I for this the girl was like to him? I'll have more or else unsay 't. And now, While 'tis hot, I'll put it to the issue. [Old Lady exits, with Lovell.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury. (Pages, Footboys, Grooms, and other servants attend at the Council door.)] CRANMER I hope I am not too late, and yet the gentleman That was sent to me from the Council prayed me To make great haste. [He tries the door.] All fast? What means this? Ho! Who waits there? [Enter Keeper.] Sure you know me! KEEPER Yes, my lord, But yet I cannot help you. CRANMER Why? KEEPER Your Grace must wait till you be called for. CRANMER So. [Enter Doctor Butts.] BUTTS, [aside] This is a piece of malice. I am glad I came this way so happily. The King Shall understand it presently. [Butts exits.] CRANMER, [aside] 'Tis Butts, The King's physician. As he passed along How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me! Pray heaven he sound not my disgrace. For certain This is of purpose laid by some that hate me-- God turn their hearts! I never sought their malice-- To quench mine honor. They would shame to make me Wait else at door, a fellow councillor, 'Mong boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their pleasures Must be fulfilled, and I attend with patience. [Enter the King and Butts at a window above.] BUTTS I'll show your Grace the strangest sight. KING What's that, Butts? BUTTS I think your Highness saw this many a day. KING Body o' me, where is it? BUTTS There, my lord: The high promotion of his Grace of Canterbury, Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pursuivants, Pages, and footboys. KING Ha! 'Tis he indeed. Is this the honor they do one another? 'Tis well there's one above 'em yet. I had thought They had parted so much honesty among 'em-- At least good manners--as not thus to suffer A man of his place, and so near our favor, To dance attendance on their Lordships' pleasures, And at the door, too, like a post with packets. By holy Mary, Butts, there's knavery! Let 'em alone, and draw the curtain close. We shall hear more anon. [They draw the curtain.] [A council table brought in with chairs and stools and placed under the state. Enter Lord Chancellor, places himself at the upper end of the table on the left hand, a seat being left void above him, as for Canterbury's seat. Duke of Suffolk, Duke of Norfolk, Surrey, Lord Chamberlain, Gardiner seat themselves in order on each side, Cromwell at lower end as secretary.] CHANCELLOR Speak to the business, Master Secretary. Why are we met in council? CROMWELL Please your honors, The chief cause concerns his Grace of Canterbury. GARDINER Has he had knowledge of it? CROMWELL Yes. NORFOLK, [to Keeper] Who waits there? KEEPER Without, my noble lords? GARDINER Yes. KEEPER My lord Archbishop, And has done half an hour, to know your pleasures. CHANCELLOR Let him come in. KEEPER, [at door] Your Grace may enter now. [Cranmer approaches the council table.] CHANCELLOR My good lord Archbishop, I'm very sorry To sit here at this present and behold That chair stand empty. But we all are men, In our own natures frail, and capable Of our flesh--few are angels--out of which frailty And want of wisdom you, that best should teach us, Have misdemeaned yourself, and not a little, Toward the King first, then his laws, in filling The whole realm, by your teaching and your chaplains'-- For so we are informed--with new opinions, Divers and dangerous, which are heresies And, not reformed, may prove pernicious. GARDINER Which reformation must be sudden too, My noble lords; for those that tame wild horses Pace 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle, But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and spur 'em Till they obey the manage. If we suffer, Out of our easiness and childish pity To one man's honor, this contagious sickness, Farewell, all physic. And what follows then? Commotions, uproars, with a general taint Of the whole state, as of late days our neighbors, The upper Germany, can dearly witness, Yet freshly pitied in our memories. CRANMER My good lords, hitherto, in all the progress Both of my life and office, I have labored, And with no little study, that my teaching And the strong course of my authority Might go one way and safely; and the end Was ever to do well. Nor is there living-- I speak it with a single heart, my lords-- A man that more detests, more stirs against, Both in his private conscience and his place, Defacers of a public peace than I do. Pray heaven the King may never find a heart With less allegiance in it! Men that make Envy and crooked malice nourishment Dare bite the best. I do beseech your Lordships That, in this case of justice, my accusers, Be what they will, may stand forth face to face And freely urge against me. SUFFOLK Nay, my lord, That cannot be. You are a councillor, And by that virtue no man dare accuse you. GARDINER My lord, because we have business of more moment, We will be short with you. 'Tis his Highness' pleasure, And our consent, for better trial of you From hence you be committed to the Tower, Where, being but a private man again, You shall know many dare accuse you boldly-- More than, I fear, you are provided for. CRANMER Ah, my good Lord of Winchester, I thank you. You are always my good friend. If your will pass, I shall both find your Lordship judge and juror, You are so merciful. I see your end: 'Tis my undoing. Love and meekness, lord, Become a churchman better than ambition. Win straying souls with modesty again; Cast none away. That I shall clear myself, Lay all the weight you can upon my patience, I make as little doubt as you do conscience In doing daily wrongs. I could say more, But reverence to your calling makes me modest. GARDINER My lord, my lord, you are a sectary. That's the plain truth. Your painted gloss discovers, To men that understand you, words and weakness. CROMWELL My Lord of Winchester, you're a little, By your good favor, too sharp. Men so noble, However faulty, yet should find respect For what they have been. 'Tis a cruelty To load a falling man. GARDINER Good Master Secretary-- I cry your Honor mercy--you may worst Of all this table say so. CROMWELL Why, my lord? GARDINER Do not I know you for a favorer Of this new sect? You are not sound. CROMWELL Not sound? GARDINER Not sound, I say. CROMWELL Would you were half so honest! Men's prayers then would seek you, not their fears. GARDINER I shall remember this bold language. CROMWELL Do. Remember your bold life too. CHANCELLOR This is too much! Forbear, for shame, my lords. GARDINER I have done. CROMWELL And I. CHANCELLOR, [to Cranmer] Then thus for you, my lord: it stands agreed, I take it, by all voices, that forthwith You be conveyed to th' Tower a prisoner, There to remain till the King's further pleasure Be known unto us.--Are you all agreed, lords? ALL We are. CRANMER Is there no other way of mercy But I must needs to th' Tower, my lords? GARDINER What other Would you expect? You are strangely troublesome. Let some o' th' guard be ready there. [Enter the Guard.] CRANMER For me? Must I go like a traitor thither? GARDINER Receive him, And see him safe i' th' Tower. CRANMER Stay, good my lords, I have a little yet to say. Look there, my lords. [He holds out the ring.] By virtue of that ring, I take my cause Out of the grips of cruel men and give it To a most noble judge, the King my master. CHAMBERLAIN This is the King's ring. SURREY 'Tis no counterfeit. SUFFOLK 'Tis the right ring, by heaven! I told you all, When we first put this dangerous stone a-rolling, 'Twould fall upon ourselves. NORFOLK Do you think, my lords, The King will suffer but the little finger Of this man to be vexed? CHAMBERLAIN 'Tis now too certain. How much more is his life in value with him! Would I were fairly out on 't! CROMWELL My mind gave me, In seeking tales and informations Against this man, whose honesty the devil And his disciples only envy at, You blew the fire that burns you. Now, have at you! [Enter King, frowning on them; takes his seat.] GARDINER Dread sovereign, how much are we bound to heaven In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince, Not only good and wise, but most religious; One that in all obedience makes the Church The chief aim of his honor, and to strengthen That holy duty out of dear respect, His royal self in judgment comes to hear The cause betwixt her and this great offender. KING You were ever good at sudden commendations, Bishop of Winchester. But know I come not To hear such flattery now, and in my presence They are too thin and base to hide offenses. To me you cannot reach. You play the spaniel, And think with wagging of your tongue to win me; But whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for, I'm sure Thou hast a cruel nature and a bloody.-- Good man, sit down. [Cranmer takes his seat.] Now let me see the proudest He, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee. By all that's holy, he had better starve Than but once think this place becomes thee not. SURREY May it please your Grace-- KING No, sir, it does not please me. I had thought I had had men of some understanding And wisdom of my Council, but I find none. Was it discretion, lords, to let this man, This good man--few of you deserve that title-- This honest man, wait like a lousy footboy At chamber door? And one as great as you are? Why, what a shame was this! Did my commission Bid you so far forget yourselves? I gave you Power as he was a councillor to try him, Not as a groom. There's some of you, I see, More out of malice than integrity, Would try him to the utmost, had you mean, Which you shall never have while I live. CHANCELLOR Thus far, My most dread sovereign, may it like your Grace To let my tongue excuse all. What was purposed Concerning his imprisonment was rather, If there be faith in men, meant for his trial And fair purgation to the world than malice, I'm sure, in me. KING Well, well, my lords, respect him. Take him, and use him well; he's worthy of it. I will say thus much for him: if a prince May be beholding to a subject, I Am, for his love and service, so to him. Make me no more ado, but all embrace him. Be friends, for shame, my lords. [They embrace Cranmer.] My Lord of Canterbury, I have a suit which you must not deny me: That is, a fair young maid that yet wants baptism. You must be godfather and answer for her. CRANMER The greatest monarch now alive may glory In such an honor. How may I deserve it, That am a poor and humble subject to you? KING Come, come, my lord, you'd spare your spoons. You shall have two noble partners with you: the old Duchess of Norfolk and Lady Marquess Dorset. Will these please you?-- Once more, my lord of Winchester, I charge you, Embrace and love this man. GARDINER With a true heart And brother-love I do it. [He embraces Cranmer.] CRANMER, [weeping] And let heaven Witness how dear I hold this confirmation. KING Good man, those joyful tears show thy true heart. The common voice, I see, is verified Of thee, which says thus: "Do my Lord of Canterbury A shrewd turn, and he's your friend forever."-- Come, lords, we trifle time away. I long To have this young one made a Christian. As I have made you one, lords, one remain. So I grow stronger, you more honor gain. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Noise and tumult within. Enter Porter and his Man, carrying cudgels.] PORTER You'll leave your noise anon, you rascals! Do you take the court for Parish Garden? You rude slaves, leave your gaping! ONE, [within] Good Master Porter, I belong to th' larder. PORTER Belong to th' gallows and be hanged, you rogue! Is this a place to roar in?--Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones. These are but switches to 'em.--I'll scratch your heads! You must be seeing christenings? Do you look for ale and cakes here, you rude rascals? PORTER'S MAN Pray, sir, be patient. 'Tis as much impossible-- Unless we sweep 'em from the door with cannons-- To scatter 'em as 'tis to make 'em sleep On May Day morning, which will never be. We may as well push against Paul's as stir 'em. PORTER How got they in, and be hanged? PORTER'S MAN Alas, I know not. How gets the tide in? As much as one sound cudgel of four foot-- You see the poor remainder--could distribute, I made no spare, sir. PORTER You did nothing, sir. PORTER'S MAN I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colbrand, To mow 'em down before me; but if I spared any That had a head to hit, either young or old, He or she, cuckold or cuckold-maker, Let me ne'er hope to see a chine again-- And that I would not for a cow, God save her! ONE, [within] Do you hear, Master Porter? PORTER I shall be with you presently, good master puppy.-- Keep the door close, sirrah. PORTER'S MAN What would you have me do? PORTER What should you do but knock 'em down by th' dozens? Is this Moorfields to muster in? Or have we some strange Indian with the great tool come to court, the women so besiege us? Bless me, what a fry of fornication is at door! On my Christian conscience, this one christening will beget a thousand; here will be father, godfather, and all together. PORTER'S MAN The spoons will be the bigger, sir. There is a fellow somewhat near the door--he should be a brazier by his face, for, o' my conscience, twenty of the dog days now reign in 's nose. All that stand about him are under the line; they need no other penance. That fire-drake did I hit three times on the head, and three times was his nose discharged against me. He stands there like a mortar-piece, to blow us. There was a haberdasher's wife of small wit near him that railed upon me till her pinked porringer fell off her head for kindling such a combustion in the state. I missed the meteor once and hit that woman, who cried out "Clubs!" when I might see from far some forty truncheoners draw to her succor, which were the hope o' th' Strand, where she was quartered. They fell on; I made good my place. At length they came to th' broomstaff to me; I defied 'em still, when suddenly a file of boys behind 'em, loose shot, delivered such a shower of pibbles that I was fain to draw mine honor in and let 'em win the work. The devil was amongst 'em, I think, surely. PORTER These are the youths that thunder at a playhouse and fight for bitten apples, that no audience but the tribulation of Tower Hill or the limbs of Limehouse, their dear brothers, are able to endure. I have some of 'em in Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to dance these three days, besides the running banquet of two beadles that is to come. [Enter Lord Chamberlain.] CHAMBERLAIN Mercy o' me, what a multitude are here! They grow still too. From all parts they are coming, As if we kept a fair here! Where are these porters, These lazy knaves?--You've made a fine hand, fellows! There's a trim rabble let in. Are all these Your faithful friends o' th' suburbs? We shall have Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies, When they pass back from the christening! PORTER An 't please your Honor, We are but men, and what so many may do, Not being torn a-pieces, we have done. An army cannot rule 'em. CHAMBERLAIN As I live, If the King blame me for 't, I'll lay you all By th' heels, and suddenly, and on your heads Clap round fines for neglect. You're lazy knaves, And here you lie baiting of bombards, when You should do service. [Trumpets.] Hark, the trumpets sound! They're come already from the christening. Go break among the press, and find a way out To let the troop pass fairly, or I'll find A Marshalsea shall hold you play these two months. PORTER Make way there for the Princess! PORTER'S MAN You great fellow, Stand close up, or I'll make your head ache. PORTER You i' th' camlet, get up o' th' rail! I'll peck you o'er the pales else. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Trumpets, sounding. Then two Aldermen, Lord Mayor, Garter, Cranmer, Duke of Norfolk with his marshal's staff, Duke of Suffolk, two Noblemen bearing great standing bowls for the christening gifts; then four Noblemen bearing a canopy, under which the Duchess of Norfolk, godmother, bearing the child richly habited in a mantle, etc., train borne by a Lady. Then follows the Marchioness Dorset, the other godmother, and Ladies. The troop pass once about the stage, and Garter speaks.] GARTER Heaven, from thy endless goodness, send prosperous life, long, and ever happy, to the high and mighty princess of England, Elizabeth. [Flourish. Enter King and Guard.] CRANMER, [kneeling] And to your royal Grace and the good queen, My noble partners and myself thus pray All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady Heaven ever laid up to make parents happy May hourly fall upon you! KING Thank you, good lord Archbishop. What is her name? CRANMER Elizabeth. KING Stand up, lord. [Cranmer stands.] With this kiss take my blessing. [King kisses infant.] God protect thee, Into whose hand I give thy life. CRANMER Amen. KING, [to the two godmothers] My noble gossips, you've been too prodigal. I thank you heartily; so shall this lady When she has so much English. CRANMER Let me speak, sir, For heaven now bids me; and the words I utter Let none think flattery, for they'll find 'em truth. This royal infant--heaven still move about her!-- Though in her cradle, yet now promises Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings, Which time shall bring to ripeness. She shall be-- But few now living can behold that goodness-- A pattern to all princes living with her And all that shall succeed. Saba was never More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue Than this pure soul shall be. All princely graces That mold up such a mighty piece as this is, With all the virtues that attend the good, Shall still be doubled on her. Truth shall nurse her; Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her. She shall be loved and feared. Her own shall bless her; Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn And hang their heads with sorrow. Good grows with her. In her days every man shall eat in safety Under his own vine what he plants and sing The merry songs of peace to all his neighbors. God shall be truly known, and those about her From her shall read the perfect ways of honor And by those claim their greatness, not by blood. Nor shall this peace sleep with her; but, as when The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix, Her ashes new create another heir As great in admiration as herself, So shall she leave her blessedness to one, When heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness, Who from the sacred ashes of her honor Shall starlike rise as great in fame as she was And so stand fixed. Peace, plenty, love, truth, terror, That were the servants to this chosen infant, Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him. Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine, His honor and the greatness of his name Shall be, and make new nations. He shall flourish, And like a mountain cedar reach his branches To all the plains about him. Our children's children Shall see this and bless heaven. KING Thou speakest wonders. CRANMER She shall be to the happiness of England An aged princess; many days shall see her, And yet no day without a deed to crown it. Would I had known no more! But she must die, She must, the saints must have her; yet a virgin, A most unspotted lily, shall she pass To th' ground, and all the world shall mourn her. KING O lord Archbishop, Thou hast made me now a man. Never before This happy child did I get anything. This oracle of comfort has so pleased me That when I am in heaven I shall desire To see what this child does and praise my Maker.-- I thank you all.--To you, my good lord mayor And you, good brethren, I am much beholding. I have received much honor by your presence, And you shall find me thankful. Lead the way, lords. You must all see the Queen, and she must thank you; She will be sick else. This day, no man think 'Has business at his house, for all shall stay. This little one shall make it holiday. [They exit.] [Enter Epilogue.] EPILOGUE 'Tis ten to one this play can never please All that are here. Some come to take their ease And sleep an act or two--but those, we fear, We've frighted with our trumpets; so, 'tis clear, They'll say 'tis naught--others, to hear the city Abused extremely and to cry "That's witty!"-- Which we have not done neither--that I fear All the expected good we're like to hear For this play at this time is only in The merciful construction of good women, For such a one we showed 'em. If they smile And say 'twill do, I know within a while All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap If they hold when their ladies bid 'em clap. [He exits.]

Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== JULIUS CAESAR CALPHURNIA, his wife Servant to them MARCUS BRUTUS PORTIA, his wife LUCIUS, their servant Patricians who, with Brutus, conspire against Caesar: CAIUS CASSIUS CASCA CINNA DECIUS BRUTUS CAIUS LIGARIUS METELLUS CIMBER TREBONIUS Senators: CICERO PUBLIUS POPILIUS LENA Tribunes: FLAVIUS MARULLUS Rulers of Rome in Acts 4 and 5: MARK ANTONY LEPIDUS OCTAVIUS Servant to Antony Servant to Octavius Officers and soldiers in the armies of Brutus and Cassius: LUCILIUS TITINIUS MESSALA VARRO CLAUDIUS YOUNG CATO STRATO VOLUMNIUS LABEO (nonspeaking) FLAVIUS (nonspeaking) DARDANUS CLITUS A Carpenter A Cobbler A Soothsayer ARTEMIDORUS First, Second, Third, and Fourth Plebeians CINNA the poet PINDARUS, slave to Cassius, freed upon Cassius's death First, Second, Third, and Fourth Soldiers in Brutus's army Another Poet A Messenger First and Second Soldiers in Antony's army Citizens, Senators, Petitioners, Plebeians, Soldiers ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Flavius, Marullus, and certain Commoners, including a Carpenter and a Cobbler, over the stage.] FLAVIUS Hence! Home, you idle creatures, get you home! Is this a holiday? What, know you not, Being mechanical, you ought not walk Upon a laboring day without the sign Of your profession?--Speak, what trade art thou? CARPENTER Why, sir, a carpenter. MARULLUS Where is thy leather apron and thy rule? What dost thou with thy best apparel on?-- You, sir, what trade are you? COBBLER Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler. MARULLUS But what trade art thou? Answer me directly. COBBLER A trade, sir, that I hope I may use with a safe conscience, which is indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles. FLAVIUS What trade, thou knave? Thou naughty knave, what trade? COBBLER Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me. Yet if you be out, sir, I can mend you. MARULLUS What mean'st thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow? COBBLER Why, sir, cobble you. FLAVIUS Thou art a cobbler, art thou? COBBLER Truly, sir, all that I live by is with the awl. I meddle with no tradesman's matters nor women's matters, but withal I am indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes: when they are in great danger, I recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neat's leather have gone upon my handiwork. FLAVIUS But wherefore art not in thy shop today? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets? COBBLER Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But indeed, sir, we make holiday to see Caesar and to rejoice in his triumph. MARULLUS Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home? What tributaries follow him to Rome To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels? You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things! O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome, Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft Have you climbed up to walls and battlements, To towers and windows, yea, to chimney tops, Your infants in your arms, and there have sat The livelong day, with patient expectation, To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome. And when you saw his chariot but appear, Have you not made an universal shout, That Tiber trembled underneath her banks To hear the replication of your sounds Made in her concave shores? And do you now put on your best attire? And do you now cull out a holiday? And do you now strew flowers in his way That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood? Be gone! Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this ingratitude. FLAVIUS Go, go, good countrymen, and for this fault Assemble all the poor men of your sort, Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears Into the channel, till the lowest stream Do kiss the most exalted shores of all. [All the Commoners exit.] See whe'er their basest mettle be not moved. They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness. Go you down that way towards the Capitol. This way will I. Disrobe the images If you do find them decked with ceremonies. MARULLUS May we do so? You know it is the feast of Lupercal. FLAVIUS It is no matter. Let no images Be hung with Caesar's trophies. I'll about And drive away the vulgar from the streets; So do you too, where you perceive them thick. These growing feathers plucked from Caesar's wing Will make him fly an ordinary pitch, Who else would soar above the view of men And keep us all in servile fearfulness. [They exit in different directions.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Caesar, Antony for the course, Calphurnia, Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, Casca, a Soothsayer; after them Marullus and Flavius and Commoners.] CAESAR Calphurnia. CASCA Peace, ho! Caesar speaks. CAESAR Calphurnia. CALPHURNIA Here, my lord. CAESAR Stand you directly in Antonius' way When he doth run his course.--Antonius. ANTONY Caesar, my lord. CAESAR Forget not in your speed, Antonius, To touch Calphurnia, for our elders say The barren, touched in this holy chase, Shake off their sterile curse. ANTONY I shall remember. When Caesar says "Do this," it is performed. CAESAR Set on and leave no ceremony out. [Sennet.] SOOTHSAYER Caesar. CAESAR Ha! Who calls? CASCA Bid every noise be still. Peace, yet again! CAESAR Who is it in the press that calls on me? I hear a tongue shriller than all the music Cry "Caesar." Speak. Caesar is turned to hear. SOOTHSAYER Beware the ides of March. CAESAR What man is that? BRUTUS A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March. CAESAR Set him before me. Let me see his face. CASSIUS Fellow, come from the throng. [The Soothsayer comes forward.] Look upon Caesar. CAESAR What sayst thou to me now? Speak once again. SOOTHSAYER Beware the ides of March. CAESAR He is a dreamer. Let us leave him. Pass. [Sennet. All but Brutus and Cassius exit.] CASSIUS Will you go see the order of the course? BRUTUS Not I. CASSIUS I pray you, do. BRUTUS I am not gamesome. I do lack some part Of that quick spirit that is in Antony. Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires. I'll leave you. CASSIUS Brutus, I do observe you now of late. I have not from your eyes that gentleness And show of love as I was wont to have. You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand Over your friend that loves you. BRUTUS Cassius, Be not deceived. If I have veiled my look, I turn the trouble of my countenance Merely upon myself. Vexed I am Of late with passions of some difference, Conceptions only proper to myself, Which give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviors. But let not therefore my good friends be grieved (Among which number, Cassius, be you one) Nor construe any further my neglect Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war, Forgets the shows of love to other men. CASSIUS Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion, By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations. Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face? BRUTUS No, Cassius, for the eye sees not itself But by reflection, by some other things. CASSIUS 'Tis just. And it is very much lamented, Brutus, That you have no such mirrors as will turn Your hidden worthiness into your eye, That you might see your shadow. I have heard Where many of the best respect in Rome, Except immortal Caesar, speaking of Brutus And groaning underneath this age's yoke, Have wished that noble Brutus had his eyes. BRUTUS Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius, That you would have me seek into myself For that which is not in me? CASSIUS Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared to hear. And since you know you cannot see yourself So well as by reflection, I, your glass, Will modestly discover to yourself That of yourself which you yet know not of. And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus. Were I a common laughter, or did use To stale with ordinary oaths my love To every new protester; if you know That I do fawn on men and hug them hard And after scandal them, or if you know That I profess myself in banqueting To all the rout, then hold me dangerous. [Flourish and shout.] BRUTUS What means this shouting? I do fear the people Choose Caesar for their king. CASSIUS Ay, do you fear it? Then must I think you would not have it so. BRUTUS I would not, Cassius, yet I love him well. But wherefore do you hold me here so long? What is it that you would impart to me? If it be aught toward the general good, Set honor in one eye and death i' th' other And I will look on both indifferently; For let the gods so speed me as I love The name of honor more than I fear death. CASSIUS I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus, As well as I do know your outward favor. Well, honor is the subject of my story. I cannot tell what you and other men Think of this life; but, for my single self, I had as lief not be as live to be In awe of such a thing as I myself. I was born free as Caesar; so were you; We both have fed as well, and we can both Endure the winter's cold as well as he. For once, upon a raw and gusty day, The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores, Caesar said to me "Dar'st thou, Cassius, now Leap in with me into this angry flood And swim to yonder point?" Upon the word, Accoutered as I was, I plunged in And bade him follow; so indeed he did. The torrent roared, and we did buffet it With lusty sinews, throwing it aside And stemming it with hearts of controversy. But ere we could arrive the point proposed, Caesar cried "Help me, Cassius, or I sink!" I, as Aeneas, our great ancestor, Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber Did I the tired Caesar. And this man Is now become a god, and Cassius is A wretched creature and must bend his body If Caesar carelessly but nod on him. He had a fever when he was in Spain, And when the fit was on him, I did mark How he did shake. 'Tis true, this god did shake. His coward lips did from their color fly, And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world Did lose his luster. I did hear him groan. Ay, and that tongue of his that bade the Romans Mark him and write his speeches in their books, "Alas," it cried "Give me some drink, Titinius" As a sick girl. You gods, it doth amaze me A man of such a feeble temper should So get the start of the majestic world And bear the palm alone. [Shout. Flourish.] BRUTUS Another general shout! I do believe that these applauses are For some new honors that are heaped on Caesar. CASSIUS Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world Like a Colossus, and we petty men Walk under his huge legs and peep about To find ourselves dishonorable graves. Men at some time are masters of their fates. The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings. "Brutus" and "Caesar"--what should be in that "Caesar"? Why should that name be sounded more than yours? Write them together, yours is as fair a name; Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well; Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em, "Brutus" will start a spirit as soon as "Caesar." Now, in the names of all the gods at once, Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed! Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods! When went there by an age, since the great flood, But it was famed with more than with one man? When could they say, till now, that talked of Rome, That her wide walks encompassed but one man? Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough When there is in it but one only man. O, you and I have heard our fathers say There was a Brutus once that would have brooked Th' eternal devil to keep his state in Rome As easily as a king. BRUTUS That you do love me, I am nothing jealous. What you would work me to, I have some aim. How I have thought of this, and of these times, I shall recount hereafter. For this present, I would not, so with love I might entreat you, Be any further moved. What you have said I will consider; what you have to say I will with patience hear, and find a time Both meet to hear and answer such high things. Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this: Brutus had rather be a villager Than to repute himself a son of Rome Under these hard conditions as this time Is like to lay upon us. CASSIUS I am glad that my weak words Have struck but thus much show of fire from Brutus. [Enter Caesar and his train.] BRUTUS The games are done, and Caesar is returning. CASSIUS As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve, And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you What hath proceeded worthy note today. BRUTUS I will do so. But look you, Cassius, The angry spot doth glow on Caesar's brow, And all the rest look like a chidden train. Calphurnia's cheek is pale, and Cicero Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes As we have seen him in the Capitol, Being crossed in conference by some senators. CASSIUS Casca will tell us what the matter is. CAESAR Antonius. ANTONY Caesar. CAESAR Let me have men about me that are fat, Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep a-nights. Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look. He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous. ANTONY Fear him not, Caesar; he's not dangerous. He is a noble Roman, and well given. CAESAR Would he were fatter! But I fear him not. Yet if my name were liable to fear, I do not know the man I should avoid So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much, He is a great observer, and he looks Quite through the deeds of men. He loves no plays, As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music; Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort As if he mocked himself and scorned his spirit That could be moved to smile at anything. Such men as he be never at heart's ease Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, And therefore are they very dangerous. I rather tell thee what is to be feared Than what I fear; for always I am Caesar. Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf, And tell me truly what thou think'st of him. [Sennet. Caesar and his train exit but Casca remains behind.] CASCA You pulled me by the cloak. Would you speak with me? BRUTUS Ay, Casca. Tell us what hath chanced today That Caesar looks so sad. CASCA Why, you were with him, were you not? BRUTUS I should not then ask Casca what had chanced. CASCA Why, there was a crown offered him; and, being offered him, he put it by with the back of his hand, thus, and then the people fell a-shouting. BRUTUS What was the second noise for? CASCA Why, for that too. CASSIUS They shouted thrice. What was the last cry for? CASCA Why, for that too. BRUTUS Was the crown offered him thrice? CASCA Ay, marry, was 't, and he put it by thrice, every time gentler than other; and at every putting-by, mine honest neighbors shouted. CASSIUS Who offered him the crown? CASCA Why, Antony. BRUTUS Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca. CASCA I can as well be hanged as tell the manner of it. It was mere foolery; I did not mark it. I saw Mark Antony offer him a crown (yet 'twas not a crown neither; 'twas one of these coronets), and, as I told you, he put it by once; but for all that, to my thinking, he would fain have had it. Then he offered it to him again; then he put it by again; but to my thinking, he was very loath to lay his fingers off it. And then he offered it the third time. He put it the third time by, and still as he refused it the rabblement hooted and clapped their chopped hands and threw up their sweaty nightcaps and uttered such a deal of stinking breath because Caesar refused the crown that it had almost choked Caesar, for he swooned and fell down at it. And for mine own part, I durst not laugh for fear of opening my lips and receiving the bad air. CASSIUS But soft, I pray you. What, did Caesar swoon? CASCA He fell down in the marketplace and foamed at mouth and was speechless. BRUTUS 'Tis very like; he hath the falling sickness. CASSIUS No, Caesar hath it not; but you and I And honest Casca, we have the falling sickness. CASCA I know not what you mean by that, but I am sure Caesar fell down. If the tag-rag people did not clap him and hiss him, according as he pleased and displeased them, as they use to do the players in the theater, I am no true man. BRUTUS What said he when he came unto himself? CASCA Marry, before he fell down, when he perceived the common herd was glad he refused the crown, he plucked me ope his doublet and offered them his throat to cut. An I had been a man of any occupation, if I would not have taken him at a word, I would I might go to hell among the rogues. And so he fell. When he came to himself again, he said if he had done or said anything amiss, he desired their Worships to think it was his infirmity. Three or four wenches where I stood cried "Alas, good soul!" and forgave him with all their hearts. But there's no heed to be taken of them; if Caesar had stabbed their mothers, they would have done no less. BRUTUS And, after that, he came thus sad away? CASCA Ay. CASSIUS Did Cicero say anything? CASCA Ay, he spoke Greek. CASSIUS To what effect? CASCA Nay, an I tell you that, I'll ne'er look you i' th' face again. But those that understood him smiled at one another and shook their heads. But for mine own part, it was Greek to me. I could tell you more news too: Marullus and Flavius, for pulling scarves off Caesar's images, are put to silence. Fare you well. There was more foolery yet, if I could remember it. CASSIUS Will you sup with me tonight, Casca? CASCA No, I am promised forth. CASSIUS Will you dine with me tomorrow? CASCA Ay, if I be alive, and your mind hold, and your dinner worth the eating. CASSIUS Good. I will expect you. CASCA Do so. Farewell both. [He exits.] BRUTUS What a blunt fellow is this grown to be! He was quick mettle when he went to school. CASSIUS So is he now in execution Of any bold or noble enterprise, However he puts on this tardy form. This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit, Which gives men stomach to digest his words With better appetite. BRUTUS And so it is. For this time I will leave you. Tomorrow, if you please to speak with me, I will come home to you; or, if you will, Come home to me, and I will wait for you. CASSIUS I will do so. Till then, think of the world. [Brutus exits.] Well, Brutus, thou art noble. Yet I see Thy honorable mettle may be wrought From that it is disposed. Therefore it is meet That noble minds keep ever with their likes; For who so firm that cannot be seduced? Caesar doth bear me hard, but he loves Brutus. If I were Brutus now, and he were Cassius, He should not humor me. I will this night In several hands in at his windows throw, As if they came from several citizens, Writings, all tending to the great opinion That Rome holds of his name, wherein obscurely Caesar's ambition shall be glanced at And after this, let Caesar seat him sure, For we will shake him, or worse days endure. [He exits.] Scene 3 ======= [Thunder and lightning. Enter Casca and Cicero.] CICERO Good even, Casca. Brought you Caesar home? Why are you breathless? And why stare you so? CASCA Are not you moved, when all the sway of earth Shakes like a thing unfirm? O Cicero, I have seen tempests when the scolding winds Have rived the knotty oaks, and I have seen Th' ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam To be exalted with the threat'ning clouds; But never till tonight, never till now, Did I go through a tempest dropping fire. Either there is a civil strife in heaven, Or else the world, too saucy with the gods, Incenses them to send destruction. CICERO Why, saw you anything more wonderful? CASCA A common slave (you know him well by sight) Held up his left hand, which did flame and burn Like twenty torches joined; and yet his hand, Not sensible of fire, remained unscorched. Besides (I ha' not since put up my sword), Against the Capitol I met a lion, Who glazed upon me and went surly by Without annoying me. And there were drawn Upon a heap a hundred ghastly women, Transformed with their fear, who swore they saw Men all in fire walk up and down the streets. And yesterday the bird of night did sit Even at noonday upon the marketplace, Hooting and shrieking. When these prodigies Do so conjointly meet, let not men say "These are their reasons, they are natural," For I believe they are portentous things Unto the climate that they point upon. CICERO Indeed, it is a strange-disposed time. But men may construe things after their fashion, Clean from the purpose of the things themselves. Comes Caesar to the Capitol tomorrow? CASCA He doth, for he did bid Antonius Send word to you he would be there tomorrow. CICERO Good night then, Casca. This disturbed sky Is not to walk in. CASCA Farewell, Cicero [Cicero exits.] [Enter Cassius.] CASSIUS Who's there? CASCA A Roman. CASSIUS Casca, by your voice. CASCA Your ear is good. Cassius, what night is this! CASSIUS A very pleasing night to honest men. CASCA Who ever knew the heavens menace so? CASSIUS Those that have known the Earth so full of faults. For my part, I have walked about the streets, Submitting me unto the perilous night, And thus unbraced, Casca, as you see, Have bared my bosom to the thunder-stone; And when the cross blue lightning seemed to open The breast of heaven, I did present myself Even in the aim and very flash of it. CASCA But wherefore did you so much tempt the heavens? It is the part of men to fear and tremble When the most mighty gods by tokens send Such dreadful heralds to astonish us. CASSIUS You are dull, Casca, and those sparks of life That should be in a Roman you do want, Or else you use not. You look pale, and gaze, And put on fear, and cast yourself in wonder, To see the strange impatience of the heavens. But if you would consider the true cause Why all these fires, why all these gliding ghosts, Why birds and beasts from quality and kind, Why old men, fools, and children calculate, Why all these things change from their ordinance, Their natures, and preformed faculties, To monstrous quality--why, you shall find That heaven hath infused them with these spirits To make them instruments of fear and warning Unto some monstrous state. Now could I, Casca, name to thee a man Most like this dreadful night, That thunders, lightens, opens graves, and roars As doth the lion in the Capitol; A man no mightier than thyself or me In personal action, yet prodigious grown, And fearful, as these strange eruptions are. CASCA 'Tis Caesar that you mean, is it not, Cassius? CASSIUS Let it be who it is. For Romans now Have thews and limbs like to their ancestors. But, woe the while, our fathers' minds are dead, And we are governed with our mothers' spirits. Our yoke and sufferance show us womanish. CASCA Indeed, they say the Senators tomorrow Mean to establish Caesar as a king, And he shall wear his crown by sea and land In every place save here in Italy. CASSIUS I know where I will wear this dagger then; Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius. Therein, you gods, you make the weak most strong; Therein, you gods, you tyrants do defeat. Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron, Can be retentive to the strength of spirit; But life, being weary of these worldly bars, Never lacks power to dismiss itself. If I know this, know all the world besides, That part of tyranny that I do bear I can shake off at pleasure. [Thunder still.] CASCA So can I. So every bondman in his own hand bears The power to cancel his captivity. CASSIUS And why should Caesar be a tyrant, then? Poor man, I know he would not be a wolf But that he sees the Romans are but sheep; He were no lion, were not Romans hinds. Those that with haste will make a mighty fire Begin it with weak straws. What trash is Rome, What rubbish, and what offal when it serves For the base matter to illuminate So vile a thing as Caesar! But, O grief, Where hast thou led me? I perhaps speak this Before a willing bondman; then, I know My answer must be made. But I am armed, And dangers are to me indifferent. CASCA You speak to Casca, and to such a man That is no fleering telltale. Hold. My hand. [They shake hands.] Be factious for redress of all these griefs, And I will set this foot of mine as far As who goes farthest. CASSIUS There's a bargain made. Now know you, Casca, I have moved already Some certain of the noblest-minded Romans To undergo with me an enterprise Of honorable-dangerous consequence. And I do know by this they stay for me In Pompey's Porch. For now, this fearful night, There is no stir or walking in the streets; And the complexion of the element In favor 's like the work we have in hand, Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible. [Enter Cinna.] CASCA Stand close awhile, for here comes one in haste. CASSIUS 'Tis Cinna; I do know him by his gait. He is a friend.--Cinna, where haste you so? CINNA To find out you. Who's that? Metellus Cimber? CASSIUS No, it is Casca, one incorporate To our attempts. Am I not stayed for, Cinna? CINNA I am glad on 't. What a fearful night is this! There's two or three of us have seen strange sights. CASSIUS Am I not stayed for? Tell me. CINNA Yes, you are. O Cassius, if you could But win the noble Brutus to our party-- CASSIUS, [handing him papers] Be you content. Good Cinna, take this paper, And look you lay it in the Praetor's chair, Where Brutus may but find it; and throw this In at his window; set this up with wax Upon old Brutus' statue. All this done, Repair to Pompey's Porch, where you shall find us. Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there? CINNA All but Metellus Cimber, and he's gone To seek you at your house. Well, I will hie And so bestow these papers as you bade me. CASSIUS That done, repair to Pompey's Theater. [Cinna exits.] Come, Casca, you and I will yet ere day See Brutus at his house. Three parts of him Is ours already, and the man entire Upon the next encounter yields him ours. CASCA O, he sits high in all the people's hearts, And that which would appear offense in us His countenance, like richest alchemy, Will change to virtue and to worthiness. CASSIUS Him and his worth and our great need of him You have right well conceited. Let us go, For it is after midnight, and ere day We will awake him and be sure of him. [They exit.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Brutus in his orchard.] BRUTUS What, Lucius, ho!-- I cannot by the progress of the stars Give guess how near to day.--Lucius, I say!-- I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly.-- When, Lucius, when? Awake, I say! What, Lucius! [Enter Lucius.] LUCIUS Called you, my lord? BRUTUS Get me a taper in my study, Lucius. When it is lighted, come and call me here. LUCIUS I will, my lord. [He exits.] BRUTUS It must be by his death. And for my part I know no personal cause to spurn at him, But for the general. He would be crowned: How that might change his nature, there's the question. It is the bright day that brings forth the adder, And that craves wary walking. Crown him that, And then I grant we put a sting in him That at his will he may do danger with. Th' abuse of greatness is when it disjoins Remorse from power. And, to speak truth of Caesar, I have not known when his affections swayed More than his reason. But 'tis a common proof That lowliness is young ambition's ladder, Whereto the climber-upward turns his face; But, when he once attains the upmost round, He then unto the ladder turns his back, Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees By which he did ascend. So Caesar may. Then, lest he may, prevent. And since the quarrel Will bear no color for the thing he is, Fashion it thus: that what he is, augmented, Would run to these and these extremities. And therefore think him as a serpent's egg, Which, hatched, would, as his kind, grow mischievous, And kill him in the shell. [Enter Lucius.] LUCIUS The taper burneth in your closet, sir. Searching the window for a flint, I found This paper, thus sealed up, and I am sure It did not lie there when I went to bed. [Gives him the letter.] BRUTUS Get you to bed again. It is not day. Is not tomorrow, boy, the ides of March? LUCIUS I know not, sir. BRUTUS Look in the calendar, and bring me word. LUCIUS I will, sir. [He exits.] BRUTUS The exhalations, whizzing in the air, Give so much light that I may read by them. [Opens the letter and reads.] Brutus, thou sleep'st. Awake, and see thyself! Shall Rome, etc. Speak, strike, redress! "Brutus, thou sleep'st. Awake." Such instigations have been often dropped Where I have took them up. "Shall Rome, etc." Thus must I piece it out: Shall Rome stand under one man's awe? What, Rome? My ancestors did from the streets of Rome The Tarquin drive when he was called a king. "Speak, strike, redress!" Am I entreated To speak and strike? O Rome, I make thee promise, If the redress will follow, thou receivest Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus. [Enter Lucius.] LUCIUS Sir, March is wasted fifteen days. [Knock within.] BRUTUS 'Tis good. Go to the gate; somebody knocks. [Lucius exits.] Since Cassius first did whet me against Caesar, I have not slept. Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma or a hideous dream. The genius and the mortal instruments Are then in council, and the state of man, Like to a little kingdom, suffers then The nature of an insurrection. [Enter Lucius.] LUCIUS Sir, 'tis your brother Cassius at the door, Who doth desire to see you. BRUTUS Is he alone? LUCIUS No, sir. There are more with him. BRUTUS Do you know them? LUCIUS No, sir. Their hats are plucked about their ears, And half their faces buried in their cloaks, That by no means I may discover them By any mark of favor. BRUTUS Let 'em enter. [Lucius exits.] They are the faction. O conspiracy, Sham'st thou to show thy dang'rous brow by night, When evils are most free? O, then, by day Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough To mask thy monstrous visage? Seek none, conspiracy. Hide it in smiles and affability; For if thou path, thy native semblance on, Not Erebus itself were dim enough To hide thee from prevention. [Enter the conspirators, Cassius, Casca, Decius, Cinna, Metellus, and Trebonius.] CASSIUS I think we are too bold upon your rest. Good morrow, Brutus. Do we trouble you? BRUTUS I have been up this hour, awake all night. Know I these men that come along with you? CASSIUS Yes, every man of them; and no man here But honors you, and every one doth wish You had but that opinion of yourself Which every noble Roman bears of you. This is Trebonius. BRUTUS He is welcome hither. CASSIUS This, Decius Brutus. BRUTUS He is welcome too. CASSIUS This, Casca; this, Cinna; and this, Metellus Cimber. BRUTUS They are all welcome. What watchful cares do interpose themselves Betwixt your eyes and night? CASSIUS Shall I entreat a word? [Brutus and Cassius whisper.] DECIUS Here lies the east; doth not the day break here? CASCA No. CINNA O pardon, sir, it doth; and yon gray lines That fret the clouds are messengers of day. CASCA You shall confess that you are both deceived. Here, as I point my sword, the sun arises, Which is a great way growing on the south, Weighing the youthful season of the year. Some two months hence, up higher toward the north He first presents his fire, and the high east Stands, as the Capitol, directly here. BRUTUS, [coming forward with Cassius] Give me your hands all over, one by one. CASSIUS And let us swear our resolution. BRUTUS No, not an oath. If not the face of men, The sufferance of our souls, the time's abuse-- If these be motives weak, break off betimes, And every man hence to his idle bed. So let high-sighted tyranny range on Till each man drop by lottery. But if these-- As I am sure they do--bear fire enough To kindle cowards and to steel with valor The melting spirits of women, then, countrymen, What need we any spur but our own cause To prick us to redress? What other bond Than secret Romans that have spoke the word And will not palter? And what other oath Than honesty to honesty engaged That this shall be or we will fall for it? Swear priests and cowards and men cautelous, Old feeble carrions, and such suffering souls That welcome wrongs; unto bad causes swear Such creatures as men doubt; but do not stain The even virtue of our enterprise, Nor th' insuppressive mettle of our spirits, To think that or our cause or our performance Did need an oath, when every drop of blood That every Roman bears, and nobly bears, Is guilty of a several bastardy If he do break the smallest particle Of any promise that hath passed from him. CASSIUS But what of Cicero? Shall we sound him? I think he will stand very strong with us. CASCA Let us not leave him out. CINNA No, by no means. METELLUS O, let us have him, for his silver hairs Will purchase us a good opinion And buy men's voices to commend our deeds. It shall be said his judgment ruled our hands. Our youths and wildness shall no whit appear, But all be buried in his gravity. BRUTUS O, name him not! Let us not break with him, For he will never follow anything That other men begin. CASSIUS Then leave him out. CASCA Indeed, he is not fit. DECIUS Shall no man else be touched, but only Caesar? CASSIUS Decius, well urged. I think it is not meet Mark Antony, so well beloved of Caesar, Should outlive Caesar. We shall find of him A shrewd contriver; and, you know, his means, If he improve them, may well stretch so far As to annoy us all; which to prevent, Let Antony and Caesar fall together. BRUTUS Our course will seem too bloody, Caius Cassius, To cut the head off and then hack the limbs, Like wrath in death and envy afterwards; For Antony is but a limb of Caesar. Let's be sacrificers, but not butchers, Caius. We all stand up against the spirit of Caesar, And in the spirit of men there is no blood. O, that we then could come by Caesar's spirit And not dismember Caesar! But, alas, Caesar must bleed for it. And, gentle friends, Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully. Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods, Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds. And let our hearts, as subtle masters do, Stir up their servants to an act of rage And after seem to chide 'em. This shall make Our purpose necessary and not envious; Which so appearing to the common eyes, We shall be called purgers, not murderers. And for Mark Antony, think not of him, For he can do no more than Caesar's arm When Caesar's head is off. CASSIUS Yet I fear him, For in the engrafted love he bears to Caesar-- BRUTUS Alas, good Cassius, do not think of him. If he love Caesar, all that he can do Is to himself: take thought and die for Caesar. And that were much he should, for he is given To sports, to wildness, and much company. TREBONIUS There is no fear in him. Let him not die, For he will live and laugh at this hereafter. [Clock strikes.] BRUTUS Peace, count the clock. CASSIUS The clock hath stricken three. TREBONIUS 'Tis time to part. CASSIUS But it is doubtful yet Whether Caesar will come forth today or no, For he is superstitious grown of late, Quite from the main opinion he held once Of fantasy, of dreams, and ceremonies. It may be these apparent prodigies, The unaccustomed terror of this night, And the persuasion of his augurers May hold him from the Capitol today. DECIUS Never fear that. If he be so resolved, I can o'ersway him, for he loves to hear That unicorns may be betrayed with trees, And bears with glasses, elephants with holes, Lions with toils, and men with flatterers. But when I tell him he hates flatterers, He says he does, being then most flattered. Let me work, For I can give his humor the true bent, And I will bring him to the Capitol. CASSIUS Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him. BRUTUS By the eighth hour, is that the uttermost? CINNA Be that the uttermost, and fail not then. METELLUS Caius Ligarius doth bear Caesar hard, Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey. I wonder none of you have thought of him. BRUTUS Now, good Metellus, go along by him. He loves me well, and I have given him reasons. Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him. CASSIUS The morning comes upon 's. We'll leave you, Brutus. And, friends, disperse yourselves, but all remember What you have said, and show yourselves true Romans. BRUTUS Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily. Let not our looks put on our purposes, But bear it, as our Roman actors do, With untired spirits and formal constancy. And so good morrow to you every one. [All but Brutus exit.] Boy! Lucius!--Fast asleep? It is no matter. Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber. Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies Which busy care draws in the brains of men. Therefore thou sleep'st so sound. [Enter Portia.] PORTIA Brutus, my lord. BRUTUS Portia! What mean you? Wherefore rise you now? It is not for your health thus to commit Your weak condition to the raw cold morning. PORTIA Nor for yours neither. You've ungently, Brutus, Stole from my bed. And yesternight at supper You suddenly arose and walked about, Musing and sighing, with your arms across, And when I asked you what the matter was, You stared upon me with ungentle looks. I urged you further; then you scratched your head And too impatiently stamped with your foot. Yet I insisted; yet you answered not, But with an angry wafture of your hand Gave sign for me to leave you. So I did, Fearing to strengthen that impatience Which seemed too much enkindled, and withal Hoping it was but an effect of humor, Which sometime hath his hour with every man. It will not let you eat nor talk nor sleep, And could it work so much upon your shape As it hath much prevailed on your condition, I should not know you Brutus. Dear my lord, Make me acquainted with your cause of grief. BRUTUS I am not well in health, and that is all. PORTIA Brutus is wise and, were he not in health, He would embrace the means to come by it. BRUTUS Why so I do. Good Portia, go to bed. PORTIA Is Brutus sick? And is it physical To walk unbraced and suck up the humors Of the dank morning? What, is Brutus sick, And will he steal out of his wholesome bed To dare the vile contagion of the night And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air To add unto his sickness? No, my Brutus, You have some sick offense within your mind, Which by the right and virtue of my place I ought to know of. [She kneels.] And upon my knees I charm you, by my once commended beauty, By all your vows of love, and that great vow Which did incorporate and make us one, That you unfold to me, your self, your half, Why you are heavy, and what men tonight Have had resort to you; for here have been Some six or seven who did hide their faces Even from darkness. BRUTUS Kneel not, gentle Portia. [He lifts her up.] PORTIA I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus. Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus, Is it excepted I should know no secrets That appertain to you? Am I your self But, as it were, in sort or limitation, To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed, And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the suburbs Of your good pleasure? If it be no more, Portia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife. BRUTUS You are my true and honorable wife, As dear to me as are the ruddy drops That visit my sad heart. PORTIA If this were true, then should I know this secret. I grant I am a woman, but withal A woman that Lord Brutus took to wife. I grant I am a woman, but withal A woman well-reputed, Cato's daughter. Think you I am no stronger than my sex, Being so fathered and so husbanded? Tell me your counsels; I will not disclose 'em. I have made strong proof of my constancy, Giving myself a voluntary wound Here, in the thigh. Can I bear that with patience, And not my husband's secrets? BRUTUS O you gods, Render me worthy of this noble wife! [Knock.] Hark, hark, one knocks. Portia, go in awhile, And by and by thy bosom shall partake The secrets of my heart. All my engagements I will construe to thee, All the charactery of my sad brows. Leave me with haste. [Portia exits.] Lucius, who 's that knocks? [Enter Lucius and Ligarius.] LUCIUS Here is a sick man that would speak with you. BRUTUS Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spoke of.-- Boy, stand aside. [Lucius exits.] Caius Ligarius, how? LIGARIUS Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble tongue. BRUTUS O, what a time have you chose out, brave Caius, To wear a kerchief! Would you were not sick! LIGARIUS I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand Any exploit worthy the name of honor. BRUTUS Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius, Had you a healthful ear to hear of it. LIGARIUS By all the gods that Romans bow before, I here discard my sickness. [He takes off his kerchief.] Soul of Rome, Brave son derived from honorable loins, Thou like an exorcist hast conjured up My mortified spirit. Now bid me run, And I will strive with things impossible, Yea, get the better of them. What's to do? BRUTUS A piece of work that will make sick men whole. LIGARIUS But are not some whole that we must make sick? BRUTUS That must we also. What it is, my Caius, I shall unfold to thee as we are going To whom it must be done. LIGARIUS Set on your foot, And with a heart new-fired I follow you To do I know not what; but it sufficeth That Brutus leads me on. [Thunder.] BRUTUS Follow me then. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Thunder and lightning. Enter Julius Caesar in his nightgown.] CAESAR Nor heaven nor Earth have been at peace tonight. Thrice hath Calphurnia in her sleep cried out "Help ho, they murder Caesar!"--Who's within? [Enter a Servant.] SERVANT My lord. CAESAR Go bid the priests do present sacrifice, And bring me their opinions of success. SERVANT I will, my lord. [He exits.] [Enter Calphurnia.] CALPHURNIA What mean you, Caesar? Think you to walk forth? You shall not stir out of your house today. CAESAR Caesar shall forth. The things that threatened me Ne'er looked but on my back. When they shall see The face of Caesar, they are vanished. CALPHURNIA Caesar, I never stood on ceremonies, Yet now they fright me. There is one within, Besides the things that we have heard and seen, Recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch. A lioness hath whelped in the streets, And graves have yawned and yielded up their dead. Fierce fiery warriors fought upon the clouds In ranks and squadrons and right form of war, Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol. The noise of battle hurtled in the air, Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan, And ghosts did shriek and squeal about the streets. O Caesar, these things are beyond all use, And I do fear them. CAESAR What can be avoided Whose end is purposed by the mighty gods? Yet Caesar shall go forth, for these predictions Are to the world in general as to Caesar. CALPHURNIA When beggars die there are no comets seen; The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes. CAESAR Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear, Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come. [Enter a Servant.] What say the augurers? SERVANT They would not have you to stir forth today. Plucking the entrails of an offering forth, They could not find a heart within the beast. CAESAR The gods do this in shame of cowardice. Caesar should be a beast without a heart If he should stay at home today for fear. No, Caesar shall not. Danger knows full well That Caesar is more dangerous than he. We are two lions littered in one day, And I the elder and more terrible. And Caesar shall go forth. CALPHURNIA Alas, my lord, Your wisdom is consumed in confidence. Do not go forth today. Call it my fear That keeps you in the house, and not your own. We'll send Mark Antony to the Senate House, And he shall say you are not well today. Let me, upon my knee, prevail in this. [She kneels.] CAESAR Mark Antony shall say I am not well, And for thy humor I will stay at home. [He lifts her up.] [Enter Decius.] Here's Decius Brutus; he shall tell them so. DECIUS Caesar, all hail! Good morrow, worthy Caesar. I come to fetch you to the Senate House. CAESAR And you are come in very happy time To bear my greeting to the Senators And tell them that I will not come today. Cannot is false, and that I dare not, falser. I will not come today. Tell them so, Decius. CALPHURNIA Say he is sick. CAESAR Shall Caesar send a lie? Have I in conquest stretched mine arm so far, To be afeard to tell graybeards the truth? Decius, go tell them Caesar will not come. DECIUS Most mighty Caesar, let me know some cause, Lest I be laughed at when I tell them so. CAESAR The cause is in my will. I will not come. That is enough to satisfy the Senate. But for your private satisfaction, Because I love you, I will let you know. Calphurnia here, my wife, stays me at home. She dreamt tonight she saw my statue, Which, like a fountain with an hundred spouts, Did run pure blood; and many lusty Romans Came smiling and did bathe their hands in it. And these does she apply for warnings and portents And evils imminent, and on her knee Hath begged that I will stay at home today. DECIUS This dream is all amiss interpreted. It was a vision fair and fortunate. Your statue spouting blood in many pipes, In which so many smiling Romans bathed, Signifies that from you great Rome shall suck Reviving blood, and that great men shall press For tinctures, stains, relics, and cognizance. This by Calphurnia's dream is signified. CAESAR And this way have you well expounded it. DECIUS I have, when you have heard what I can say. And know it now: the Senate have concluded To give this day a crown to mighty Caesar. If you shall send them word you will not come, Their minds may change. Besides, it were a mock Apt to be rendered, for someone to say "Break up the Senate till another time, When Caesar's wife shall meet with better dreams." If Caesar hide himself, shall they not whisper "Lo, Caesar is afraid"? Pardon me, Caesar, for my dear dear love To your proceeding bids me tell you this, And reason to my love is liable. CAESAR How foolish do your fears seem now, Calphurnia! I am ashamed I did yield to them. Give me my robe, for I will go. [Enter Brutus, Ligarius, Metellus, Casca, Trebonius, Cinna, and Publius.] And look where Publius is come to fetch me. PUBLIUS Good morrow, Caesar. CAESAR Welcome, Publius.-- What, Brutus, are you stirred so early too?-- Good morrow, Casca.--Caius Ligarius, Caesar was ne'er so much your enemy As that same ague which hath made you lean.-- What is 't o'clock? BRUTUS Caesar, 'tis strucken eight. CAESAR I thank you for your pains and courtesy. [Enter Antony.] See, Antony that revels long a-nights Is notwithstanding up.--Good morrow, Antony. ANTONY So to most noble Caesar. CAESAR, [to Servant] Bid them prepare within.-- I am to blame to be thus waited for. [Servant exits.] Now, Cinna.--Now, Metellus.--What, Trebonius, I have an hour's talk in store for you. Remember that you call on me today; Be near me that I may remember you. TREBONIUS Caesar, I will. [Aside.] And so near will I be That your best friends shall wish I had been further. CAESAR Good friends, go in and taste some wine with me, And we, like friends, will straightway go together. BRUTUS, [aside] That every like is not the same, O Caesar, The heart of Brutus earns to think upon. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Artemidorus reading a paper.] ARTEMIDORUS Caesar, beware of Brutus, take heed of Cassius, come not near Casca, have an eye to Cinna, trust not Trebonius, mark well Metellus Cimber. Decius Brutus loves thee not. Thou hast wronged Caius Ligarius. There is but one mind in all these men, and it is bent against Caesar. If thou beest not immortal, look about you. Security gives way to conspiracy. The mighty gods defend thee! Thy lover, Artemidorus Here will I stand till Caesar pass along, And as a suitor will I give him this. My heart laments that virtue cannot live Out of the teeth of emulation. If thou read this, O Caesar, thou mayest live; If not, the Fates with traitors do contrive. [He exits.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Portia and Lucius.] PORTIA I prithee, boy, run to the Senate House. Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone. Why dost thou stay? LUCIUS To know my errand, madam. PORTIA I would have had thee there and here again Ere I can tell thee what thou shouldst do there. [Aside.] O constancy, be strong upon my side; Set a huge mountain 'tween my heart and tongue. I have a man's mind but a woman's might. How hard it is for women to keep counsel!-- Art thou here yet? LUCIUS Madam, what should I do? Run to the Capitol, and nothing else? And so return to you, and nothing else? PORTIA Yes, bring me word, boy, if thy lord look well, For he went sickly forth. And take good note What Caesar doth, what suitors press to him. Hark, boy, what noise is that? LUCIUS I hear none, madam. PORTIA Prithee, listen well. I heard a bustling rumor like a fray, And the wind brings it from the Capitol. LUCIUS Sooth, madam, I hear nothing. [Enter the Soothsayer.] PORTIA Come hither, fellow. Which way hast thou been? SOOTHSAYER At mine own house, good lady. PORTIA What is 't o'clock? SOOTHSAYER About the ninth hour, lady. PORTIA Is Caesar yet gone to the Capitol? SOOTHSAYER Madam, not yet. I go to take my stand To see him pass on to the Capitol. PORTIA Thou hast some suit to Caesar, hast thou not? SOOTHSAYER That I have, lady. If it will please Caesar To be so good to Caesar as to hear me, I shall beseech him to befriend himself. PORTIA Why, know'st thou any harm's intended towards him? SOOTHSAYER None that I know will be, much that I fear may chance. Good morrow to you.--Here the street is narrow. The throng that follows Caesar at the heels, Of senators, of praetors, common suitors, Will crowd a feeble man almost to death. I'll get me to a place more void, and there Speak to great Caesar as he comes along. [He exits.] PORTIA I must go in. [Aside.] Ay me, how weak a thing The heart of woman is! O Brutus, The heavens speed thee in thine enterprise! Sure the boy heard me. [To Lucius.] Brutus hath a suit That Caesar will not grant. [Aside.] O, I grow faint.-- Run, Lucius, and commend me to my lord. Say I am merry. Come to me again And bring me word what he doth say to thee. [They exit separately.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Flourish. Enter Caesar, Antony, Lepidus; Brutus, Cassius, Casca, Decius, Metellus, Trebonius, Cinna; Publius, Popilius, Artemidorus, the Soothsayer, and other Senators and Petitioners.] CAESAR The ides of March are come. SOOTHSAYER Ay, Caesar, but not gone. ARTEMIDORUS Hail, Caesar. Read this schedule. DECIUS Trebonius doth desire you to o'erread, At your best leisure, this his humble suit. ARTEMIDORUS O Caesar, read mine first, for mine's a suit That touches Caesar nearer. Read it, great Caesar. CAESAR What touches us ourself shall be last served. ARTEMIDORUS Delay not, Caesar; read it instantly. CAESAR What, is the fellow mad? PUBLIUS Sirrah, give place. CASSIUS What, urge you your petitions in the street? Come to the Capitol. [Caesar goes forward, the rest following.] POPILIUS, [to Cassius] I wish your enterprise today may thrive. CASSIUS What enterprise, Popilius? POPILIUS Fare you well. [He walks away.] BRUTUS What said Popilius Lena? CASSIUS He wished today our enterprise might thrive. I fear our purpose is discovered. BRUTUS Look how he makes to Caesar. Mark him. CASSIUS Casca, be sudden, for we fear prevention.-- Brutus, what shall be done? If this be known, Cassius or Caesar never shall turn back, For I will slay myself. BRUTUS Cassius, be constant. Popilius Lena speaks not of our purposes, For look, he smiles, and Caesar doth not change. CASSIUS Trebonius knows his time, for look you, Brutus, He draws Mark Antony out of the way. [Trebonius and Antony exit.] DECIUS Where is Metellus Cimber? Let him go And presently prefer his suit to Caesar. BRUTUS He is addressed. Press near and second him. CINNA Casca, you are the first that rears your hand. CAESAR Are we all ready? What is now amiss That Caesar and his Senate must redress? METELLUS, [kneeling] Most high, most mighty, and most puissant Caesar, Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat An humble heart. CAESAR I must prevent thee, Cimber. These couchings and these lowly courtesies Might fire the blood of ordinary men And turn preordinance and first decree Into the law of children. Be not fond To think that Caesar bears such rebel blood That will be thawed from the true quality With that which melteth fools--I mean sweet words, Low-crooked curtsies, and base spaniel fawning. Thy brother by decree is banished. If thou dost bend and pray and fawn for him, I spurn thee like a cur out of my way. Know: Caesar doth not wrong, nor without cause Will he be satisfied. METELLUS Is there no voice more worthy than my own To sound more sweetly in great Caesar's ear For the repealing of my banished brother? BRUTUS, [kneeling] I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, Caesar, Desiring thee that Publius Cimber may Have an immediate freedom of repeal. CAESAR What, Brutus? CASSIUS, [kneeling] Pardon, Caesar; Caesar, pardon! As low as to thy foot doth Cassius fall To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber. CAESAR I could be well moved, if I were as you. If I could pray to move, prayers would move me. But I am constant as the Northern Star, Of whose true fixed and resting quality There is no fellow in the firmament. The skies are painted with unnumbered sparks; They are all fire, and every one doth shine. But there's but one in all doth hold his place. So in the world: 'tis furnished well with men, And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive. Yet in the number I do know but one That unassailable holds on his rank, Unshaked of motion; and that I am he Let me a little show it, even in this: That I was constant Cimber should be banished And constant do remain to keep him so. CINNA, [kneeling] O Caesar-- CAESAR Hence. Wilt thou lift up Olympus? DECIUS, [kneeling] Great Caesar-- CAESAR Doth not Brutus bootless kneel? CASCA Speak, hands, for me! [As Casca strikes, the others rise up and stab Caesar.] CAESAR Et tu, Brute?--Then fall, Caesar. [He dies.] CINNA Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead! Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets. CASSIUS Some to the common pulpits and cry out "Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement." BRUTUS People and Senators, be not affrighted. Fly not; stand still. Ambition's debt is paid. CASCA Go to the pulpit, Brutus. DECIUS And Cassius too. BRUTUS Where's Publius? CINNA Here, quite confounded with this mutiny. METELLUS Stand fast together, lest some friend of Caesar's Should chance-- BRUTUS Talk not of standing.--Publius, good cheer. There is no harm intended to your person, Nor to no Roman else. So tell them, Publius. CASSIUS And leave us, Publius, lest that the people, Rushing on us, should do your age some mischief. BRUTUS Do so, and let no man abide this deed But we the doers. [All but the Conspirators exit.] [Enter Trebonius.] CASSIUS Where is Antony? TREBONIUS Fled to his house amazed. Men, wives, and children stare, cry out, and run As it were doomsday. BRUTUS Fates, we will know your pleasures. That we shall die we know; 'tis but the time, And drawing days out, that men stand upon. CASCA Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life Cuts off so many years of fearing death. BRUTUS Grant that, and then is death a benefit. So are we Caesar's friends, that have abridged His time of fearing death. Stoop, Romans, stoop, And let us bathe our hands in Caesar's blood Up to the elbows and besmear our swords. Then walk we forth, even to the marketplace, And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads, Let's all cry "Peace, freedom, and liberty!" CASSIUS Stoop then, and wash. [They smear their hands and swords with Caesar's blood.] How many ages hence Shall this our lofty scene be acted over In states unborn and accents yet unknown! BRUTUS How many times shall Caesar bleed in sport, That now on Pompey's basis lies along No worthier than the dust! CASSIUS So oft as that shall be, So often shall the knot of us be called The men that gave their country liberty. DECIUS What, shall we forth? CASSIUS Ay, every man away. Brutus shall lead, and we will grace his heels With the most boldest and best hearts of Rome. [Enter a Servant.] BRUTUS Soft, who comes here? A friend of Antony's. SERVANT, [kneeling] Thus, Brutus, did my master bid me kneel. Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down, And, being prostrate, thus he bade me say: Brutus is noble, wise, valiant, and honest; Caesar was mighty, bold, royal, and loving. Say, I love Brutus, and I honor him; Say, I feared Caesar, honored him, and loved him. If Brutus will vouchsafe that Antony May safely come to him and be resolved How Caesar hath deserved to lie in death, Mark Antony shall not love Caesar dead So well as Brutus living, but will follow The fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus Thorough the hazards of this untrod state With all true faith. So says my master Antony. BRUTUS Thy master is a wise and valiant Roman. I never thought him worse. Tell him, so please him come unto this place, He shall be satisfied and, by my honor, Depart untouched. SERVANT I'll fetch him presently. [Servant exits.] BRUTUS I know that we shall have him well to friend. CASSIUS I wish we may; but yet have I a mind That fears him much, and my misgiving still Falls shrewdly to the purpose. [Enter Antony.] BRUTUS But here comes Antony.--Welcome, Mark Antony! ANTONY O mighty Caesar, dost thou lie so low? Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils Shrunk to this little measure? Fare thee well.-- I know not, gentlemen, what you intend, Who else must be let blood, who else is rank. If I myself, there is no hour so fit As Caesar's death's hour, nor no instrument Of half that worth as those your swords made rich With the most noble blood of all this world. I do beseech you, if you bear me hard, Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and smoke, Fulfill your pleasure. Live a thousand years, I shall not find myself so apt to die; No place will please me so, no mean of death, As here by Caesar, and by you cut off, The choice and master spirits of this age. BRUTUS O Antony, beg not your death of us! Though now we must appear bloody and cruel, As by our hands and this our present act You see we do, yet see you but our hands And this the bleeding business they have done. Our hearts you see not; they are pitiful; And pity to the general wrong of Rome (As fire drives out fire, so pity pity) Hath done this deed on Caesar. For your part, To you our swords have leaden points, Mark Antony. Our arms in strength of malice, and our hearts Of brothers' temper, do receive you in With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence. CASSIUS Your voice shall be as strong as any man's In the disposing of new dignities. BRUTUS Only be patient till we have appeased The multitude, beside themselves with fear; And then we will deliver you the cause Why I, that did love Caesar when I struck him, Have thus proceeded. ANTONY I doubt not of your wisdom. Let each man render me his bloody hand. First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you.-- Next, Caius Cassius, do I take your hand.-- Now, Decius Brutus, yours;--now yours, Metellus;-- Yours, Cinna;--and, my valiant Casca, yours;-- Though last, not least in love, yours, good Trebonius.-- Gentlemen all--alas, what shall I say? My credit now stands on such slippery ground That one of two bad ways you must conceit me, Either a coward or a flatterer.-- That I did love thee, Caesar, O, 'tis true! If then thy spirit look upon us now, Shall it not grieve thee dearer than thy death To see thy Antony making his peace, Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes-- Most noble!--in the presence of thy corpse? Had I as many eyes as thou hast wounds, Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood, It would become me better than to close In terms of friendship with thine enemies. Pardon me, Julius! Here wast thou bayed, brave hart, Here didst thou fall, and here thy hunters stand Signed in thy spoil and crimsoned in thy Lethe. O world, thou wast the forest to this hart, And this indeed, O world, the heart of thee. How like a deer strucken by many princes Dost thou here lie! CASSIUS Mark Antony-- ANTONY Pardon me, Caius Cassius. The enemies of Caesar shall say this; Then, in a friend, it is cold modesty. CASSIUS I blame you not for praising Caesar so. But what compact mean you to have with us? Will you be pricked in number of our friends, Or shall we on and not depend on you? ANTONY Therefore I took your hands, but was indeed Swayed from the point by looking down on Caesar. Friends am I with you all and love you all, Upon this hope, that you shall give me reasons Why and wherein Caesar was dangerous. BRUTUS Or else were this a savage spectacle. Our reasons are so full of good regard That were you, Antony, the son of Caesar, You should be satisfied. ANTONY That's all I seek; And am, moreover, suitor that I may Produce his body to the marketplace, And in the pulpit, as becomes a friend, Speak in the order of his funeral. BRUTUS You shall, Mark Antony. CASSIUS Brutus, a word with you. [Aside to Brutus.] You know not what you do. Do not consent That Antony speak in his funeral. Know you how much the people may be moved By that which he will utter? BRUTUS, [aside to Cassius] By your pardon, I will myself into the pulpit first And show the reason of our Caesar's death. What Antony shall speak I will protest He speaks by leave and by permission, And that we are contented Caesar shall Have all true rites and lawful ceremonies. It shall advantage more than do us wrong. CASSIUS, [aside to Brutus] I know not what may fall. I like it not. BRUTUS Mark Antony, here, take you Caesar's body. You shall not in your funeral speech blame us But speak all good you can devise of Caesar And say you do 't by our permission, Else shall you not have any hand at all About his funeral. And you shall speak In the same pulpit whereto I am going, After my speech is ended. ANTONY Be it so. I do desire no more. BRUTUS Prepare the body, then, and follow us. [All but Antony exit.] ANTONY O pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, That I am meek and gentle with these butchers. Thou art the ruins of the noblest man That ever lived in the tide of times. Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood! Over thy wounds now do I prophesy (Which like dumb mouths do ope their ruby lips To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue) A curse shall light upon the limbs of men; Domestic fury and fierce civil strife Shall cumber all the parts of Italy; Blood and destruction shall be so in use And dreadful objects so familiar That mothers shall but smile when they behold Their infants quartered with the hands of war, All pity choked with custom of fell deeds; And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge, With Ate by his side come hot from hell, Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice Cry "Havoc!" and let slip the dogs of war, That this foul deed shall smell above the earth With carrion men groaning for burial. [Enter Octavius' Servant.] You serve Octavius Caesar, do you not? SERVANT I do, Mark Antony. ANTONY Caesar did write for him to come to Rome. SERVANT He did receive his letters and is coming, And bid me say to you by word of mouth-- O Caesar! ANTONY Thy heart is big. Get thee apart and weep. Passion, I see, is catching, for mine eyes, Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine, Began to water. Is thy master coming? SERVANT He lies tonight within seven leagues of Rome. ANTONY Post back with speed and tell him what hath chanced. Here is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome, No Rome of safety for Octavius yet. Hie hence and tell him so.--Yet stay awhile; Thou shalt not back till I have borne this corpse Into the marketplace. There shall I try, In my oration, how the people take The cruel issue of these bloody men, According to the which thou shalt discourse To young Octavius of the state of things. Lend me your hand. [They exit with Caesar's body.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Brutus and Cassius with the Plebeians.] PLEBEIANS We will be satisfied! Let us be satisfied! BRUTUS Then follow me and give me audience, friends.-- Cassius, go you into the other street And part the numbers.-- Those that will hear me speak, let 'em stay here; Those that will follow Cassius, go with him; And public reasons shall be rendered Of Caesar's death. FIRST PLEBEIAN I will hear Brutus speak. SECOND PLEBEIAN I will hear Cassius, and compare their reasons When severally we hear them rendered. [Cassius exits with some of the Plebeians. Brutus goes into the pulpit.] THIRD PLEBEIAN The noble Brutus is ascended. Silence. BRUTUS Be patient till the last. Romans, countrymen, and lovers, hear me for my cause, and be silent that you may hear. Believe me for mine honor, and have respect to mine honor that you may believe. Censure me in your wisdom, and awake your senses that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesar's, to him I say that Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his. If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer: not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Caesar were living, and die all slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live all freemen? As Caesar loved me, I weep for him. As he was fortunate, I rejoice at it. As he was valiant, I honor him. But, as he was ambitious, I slew him. There is tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honor for his valor, and death for his ambition. Who is here so base that would be a bondman? If any, speak, for him have I offended. Who is here so rude that would not be a Roman? If any, speak, for him have I offended. Who is here so vile that will not love his country? If any, speak, for him have I offended. I pause for a reply. PLEBEIANS None, Brutus, none. BRUTUS Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Caesar than you shall do to Brutus. The question of his death is enrolled in the Capitol, his glory not extenuated wherein he was worthy, nor his offenses enforced for which he suffered death. [Enter Mark Antony and others with Caesar's body.] Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony, who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying--a place in the commonwealth--as which of you shall not? With this I depart: that, as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself when it shall please my country to need my death. PLEBEIANS Live, Brutus, live, live! FIRST PLEBEIAN Bring him with triumph home unto his house. SECOND PLEBEIAN Give him a statue with his ancestors. THIRD PLEBEIAN Let him be Caesar. FOURTH PLEBEIAN Caesar's better parts Shall be crowned in Brutus. FIRST PLEBEIAN We'll bring him to his house with shouts and clamors. BRUTUS My countrymen-- SECOND PLEBEIAN Peace, silence! Brutus speaks. FIRST PLEBEIAN Peace, ho! BRUTUS Good countrymen, let me depart alone, And, for my sake, stay here with Antony. Do grace to Caesar's corpse, and grace his speech Tending to Caesar's glories, which Mark Antony (By our permission) is allowed to make. I do entreat you, not a man depart, Save I alone, till Antony have spoke. [He descends and exits.] FIRST PLEBEIAN Stay, ho, and let us hear Mark Antony! THIRD PLEBEIAN Let him go up into the public chair. PLEBEIANS We'll hear him.--Noble Antony, go up. ANTONY For Brutus' sake, I am beholding to you. [He goes into the pulpit.] FOURTH PLEBEIAN What does he say of Brutus? THIRD PLEBEIAN He says for Brutus' sake He finds himself beholding to us all. FOURTH PLEBEIAN 'Twere best he speak no harm of Brutus here. FIRST PLEBEIAN This Caesar was a tyrant. THIRD PLEBEIAN Nay, that's certain. We are blest that Rome is rid of him. SECOND PLEBEIAN Peace, let us hear what Antony can say. ANTONY You gentle Romans-- PLEBEIANS Peace, ho! Let us hear him. ANTONY Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears. I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones. So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus Hath told you Caesar was ambitious. If it were so, it was a grievous fault, And grievously hath Caesar answered it. Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest (For Brutus is an honorable man; So are they all, all honorable men), Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. He was my friend, faithful and just to me, But Brutus says he was ambitious, And Brutus is an honorable man. He hath brought many captives home to Rome, Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill. Did this in Caesar seem ambitious? When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept; Ambition should be made of sterner stuff. Yet Brutus says he was ambitious, And Brutus is an honorable man. You all did see that on the Lupercal I thrice presented him a kingly crown, Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition? Yet Brutus says he was ambitious, And sure he is an honorable man. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, But here I am to speak what I do know. You all did love him once, not without cause. What cause withholds you, then, to mourn for him?-- O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts, And men have lost their reason!--Bear with me; My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, And I must pause till it come back to me. [He weeps.] FIRST PLEBEIAN Methinks there is much reason in his sayings. SECOND PLEBEIAN If thou consider rightly of the matter, Caesar has had great wrong. THIRD PLEBEIAN Has he, masters? I fear there will a worse come in his place. FOURTH PLEBEIAN Marked you his words? He would not take the crown; Therefore 'tis certain he was not ambitious. FIRST PLEBEIAN If it be found so, some will dear abide it. SECOND PLEBEIAN Poor soul, his eyes are red as fire with weeping. THIRD PLEBEIAN There's not a nobler man in Rome than Antony. FOURTH PLEBEIAN Now mark him. He begins again to speak. ANTONY But yesterday the word of Caesar might Have stood against the world. Now lies he there, And none so poor to do him reverence. O masters, if I were disposed to stir Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, I should do Brutus wrong and Cassius wrong, Who, you all know, are honorable men. I will not do them wrong. I rather choose To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you, Than I will wrong such honorable men. But here's a parchment with the seal of Caesar. I found it in his closet. 'Tis his will. Let but the commons hear this testament, Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read, And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds And dip their napkins in his sacred blood-- Yea, beg a hair of him for memory And, dying, mention it within their wills, Bequeathing it as a rich legacy Unto their issue. FOURTH PLEBEIAN We'll hear the will. Read it, Mark Antony. PLEBEIANS The will, the will! We will hear Caesar's will. ANTONY Have patience, gentle friends. I must not read it. It is not meet you know how Caesar loved you. You are not wood, you are not stones, but men. And, being men, hearing the will of Caesar, It will inflame you; it will make you mad. 'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs, For if you should, O, what would come of it? FOURTH PLEBEIAN Read the will! We'll hear it, Antony. PLEBEIANS You shall read us the will, Caesar's will. ANTONY Will you be patient? Will you stay awhile? I have o'ershot myself to tell you of it. I fear I wrong the honorable men Whose daggers have stabbed Caesar. I do fear it. FOURTH PLEBEIAN They were traitors. Honorable men? PLEBEIANS The will! The testament! SECOND PLEBEIAN They were villains, murderers. The will! Read the will. ANTONY You will compel me, then, to read the will? Then make a ring about the corpse of Caesar, And let me show you him that made the will. Shall I descend? And will you give me leave? PLEBEIANS Come down. SECOND PLEBEIAN Descend. THIRD PLEBEIAN You shall have leave. [Antony descends.] FOURTH PLEBEIAN A ring; stand round. FIRST PLEBEIAN Stand from the hearse. Stand from the body. SECOND PLEBEIAN Room for Antony, most noble Antony. ANTONY Nay, press not so upon me. Stand far off. PLEBEIANS Stand back! Room! Bear back! ANTONY If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle. I remember The first time ever Caesar put it on. 'Twas on a summer's evening in his tent, That day he overcame the Nervii. Look, in this place ran Cassius' dagger through. See what a rent the envious Casca made. Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabbed, And, as he plucked his cursed steel away, Mark how the blood of Caesar followed it, As rushing out of doors to be resolved If Brutus so unkindly knocked or no; For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel. Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him! This was the most unkindest cut of all. For when the noble Caesar saw him stab, Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, Quite vanquished him. Then burst his mighty heart, And, in his mantle muffling up his face, Even at the base of Pompey's statue (Which all the while ran blood) great Caesar fell. O, what a fall was there, my countrymen! Then I and you and all of us fell down, Whilst bloody treason flourished over us. O, now you weep, and I perceive you feel The dint of pity. These are gracious drops. Kind souls, what, weep you when you but behold Our Caesar's vesture wounded? Look you here, [Antony lifts Caesar's cloak.] Here is himself, marred as you see with traitors. FIRST PLEBEIAN O piteous spectacle! SECOND PLEBEIAN O noble Caesar! THIRD PLEBEIAN O woeful day! FOURTH PLEBEIAN O traitors, villains! FIRST PLEBEIAN O most bloody sight! SECOND PLEBEIAN We will be revenged. PLEBEIANS Revenge! About! Seek! Burn! Fire! Kill! Slay! Let not a traitor live! ANTONY Stay, countrymen. FIRST PLEBEIAN Peace there! Hear the noble Antony. SECOND PLEBEIAN We'll hear him, we'll follow him, we'll die with him. ANTONY Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up To such a sudden flood of mutiny. They that have done this deed are honorable. What private griefs they have, alas, I know not, That made them do it. They are wise and honorable And will no doubt with reasons answer you. I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts. I am no orator, as Brutus is, But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man That love my friend, and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him. For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech To stir men's blood. I only speak right on. I tell you that which you yourselves do know, Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor poor dumb mouths, And bid them speak for me. But were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue In every wound of Caesar that should move The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. PLEBEIANS We'll mutiny. FIRST PLEBEIAN We'll burn the house of Brutus. THIRD PLEBEIAN Away then. Come, seek the conspirators. ANTONY Yet hear me, countrymen; yet hear me speak. PLEBEIANS Peace, ho! Hear Antony, most noble Antony! ANTONY Why, friends, you go to do you know not what. Wherein hath Caesar thus deserved your loves? Alas, you know not. I must tell you then. You have forgot the will I told you of. PLEBEIANS Most true. The will! Let's stay and hear the will. ANTONY Here is the will, and under Caesar's seal: To every Roman citizen he gives, To every several man, seventy-five drachmas. SECOND PLEBEIAN Most noble Caesar! We'll revenge his death. THIRD PLEBEIAN O royal Caesar! ANTONY Hear me with patience. PLEBEIANS Peace, ho! ANTONY Moreover, he hath left you all his walks, His private arbors, and new-planted orchards, On this side Tiber. He hath left them you, And to your heirs forever--common pleasures To walk abroad and recreate yourselves. Here was a Caesar! When comes such another? FIRST PLEBEIAN Never, never!--Come, away, away! We'll burn his body in the holy place And with the brands fire the traitors' houses. Take up the body. SECOND PLEBEIAN Go fetch fire. THIRD PLEBEIAN Pluck down benches. FOURTH PLEBEIAN Pluck down forms, windows, anything. [Plebeians exit with Caesar's body.] ANTONY Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot; Take thou what course thou wilt. [Enter Servant.] How now, fellow? SERVANT Sir, Octavius is already come to Rome. ANTONY Where is he? SERVANT He and Lepidus are at Caesar's house. ANTONY And thither will I straight to visit him. He comes upon a wish. Fortune is merry And in this mood will give us anything. SERVANT I heard him say Brutus and Cassius Are rid like madmen through the gates of Rome. ANTONY Belike they had some notice of the people How I had moved them. Bring me to Octavius. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Cinna the poet and after him the Plebeians.] CINNA I dreamt tonight that I did feast with Caesar, And things unluckily charge my fantasy. I have no will to wander forth of doors, Yet something leads me forth. FIRST PLEBEIAN What is your name? SECOND PLEBEIAN Whither are you going? THIRD PLEBEIAN Where do you dwell? FOURTH PLEBEIAN Are you a married man or a bachelor? SECOND PLEBEIAN Answer every man directly. FIRST PLEBEIAN Ay, and briefly. FOURTH PLEBEIAN Ay, and wisely. THIRD PLEBEIAN Ay, and truly, you were best. CINNA What is my name? Whither am I going? Where do I dwell? Am I a married man or a bachelor? Then to answer every man directly and briefly, wisely and truly: wisely I say, I am a bachelor. SECOND PLEBEIAN That's as much as to say they are fools that marry. You'll bear me a bang for that, I fear. Proceed directly. CINNA Directly, I am going to Caesar's funeral. FIRST PLEBEIAN As a friend or an enemy? CINNA As a friend. SECOND PLEBEIAN That matter is answered directly. FOURTH PLEBEIAN For your dwelling--briefly. CINNA Briefly, I dwell by the Capitol. THIRD PLEBEIAN Your name, sir, truly. CINNA Truly, my name is Cinna. FIRST PLEBEIAN Tear him to pieces! He's a conspirator. CINNA I am Cinna the poet, I am Cinna the poet! FOURTH PLEBEIAN Tear him for his bad verses, tear him for his bad verses! CINNA I am not Cinna the conspirator. FOURTH PLEBEIAN It is no matter. His name's Cinna. Pluck but his name out of his heart, and turn him going. THIRD PLEBEIAN Tear him, tear him! Come, brands, ho, firebrands! To Brutus', to Cassius', burn all! Some to Decius' house, and some to Casca's, some to Ligarius'. Away, go! [All the Plebeians exit, carrying off Cinna.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Antony, Octavius, and Lepidus.] ANTONY These many, then, shall die; their names are pricked. OCTAVIUS Your brother too must die. Consent you, Lepidus? LEPIDUS I do consent. OCTAVIUS Prick him down, Antony. LEPIDUS Upon condition Publius shall not live, Who is your sister's son, Mark Antony. ANTONY He shall not live; look, with a spot I damn him. But, Lepidus, go you to Caesar's house; Fetch the will hither, and we shall determine How to cut off some charge in legacies. LEPIDUS What, shall I find you here? OCTAVIUS Or here, or at the Capitol. [Lepidus exits.] ANTONY This is a slight, unmeritable man, Meet to be sent on errands. Is it fit, The threefold world divided, he should stand One of the three to share it? OCTAVIUS So you thought him And took his voice who should be pricked to die In our black sentence and proscription. ANTONY Octavius, I have seen more days than you, And, though we lay these honors on this man To ease ourselves of diverse sland'rous loads, He shall but bear them as the ass bears gold, To groan and sweat under the business, Either led or driven, as we point the way; And having brought our treasure where we will, Then take we down his load and turn him off (Like to the empty ass) to shake his ears And graze in commons. OCTAVIUS You may do your will, But he's a tried and valiant soldier. ANTONY So is my horse, Octavius, and for that I do appoint him store of provender. It is a creature that I teach to fight, To wind, to stop, to run directly on, His corporal motion governed by my spirit; And, in some taste, is Lepidus but so. He must be taught and trained and bid go forth-- A barren-spirited fellow, one that feeds On objects, arts, and imitations Which, out of use and staled by other men, Begin his fashion. Do not talk of him But as a property. And now, Octavius, Listen great things. Brutus and Cassius Are levying powers. We must straight make head. Therefore let our alliance be combined, Our best friends made, our means stretched; And let us presently go sit in council How covert matters may be best disclosed And open perils surest answered. OCTAVIUS Let us do so, for we are at the stake And bayed about with many enemies, And some that smile have in their hearts, I fear, Millions of mischiefs. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Drum. Enter Brutus, Lucilius, Lucius, and the Army. Titinius and Pindarus meet them.] BRUTUS Stand ho! LUCILIUS Give the word, ho, and stand! BRUTUS What now, Lucilius, is Cassius near? LUCILIUS He is at hand, and Pindarus is come To do you salutation from his master. BRUTUS He greets me well.--Your master, Pindarus, In his own change or by ill officers, Hath given me some worthy cause to wish Things done undone, but if he be at hand I shall be satisfied. PINDARUS I do not doubt But that my noble master will appear Such as he is, full of regard and honor. BRUTUS He is not doubted. [Brutus and Lucilius walk aside.] A word, Lucilius, How he received you. Let me be resolved. LUCILIUS With courtesy and with respect enough, But not with such familiar instances Nor with such free and friendly conference As he hath used of old. BRUTUS Thou hast described A hot friend cooling. Ever note, Lucilius, When love begins to sicken and decay It useth an enforced ceremony. There are no tricks in plain and simple faith; But hollow men, like horses hot at hand, Make gallant show and promise of their mettle, [Low march within.] But when they should endure the bloody spur, They fall their crests and, like deceitful jades, Sink in the trial. Comes his army on? LUCILIUS They mean this night in Sardis to be quartered. The greater part, the horse in general, Are come with Cassius. [Enter Cassius and his powers.] BRUTUS Hark, he is arrived. March gently on to meet him. CASSIUS Stand ho! BRUTUS Stand ho! Speak the word along. FIRST SOLDIER Stand! SECOND SOLDIER Stand! THIRD SOLDIER Stand! CASSIUS Most noble brother, you have done me wrong. BRUTUS Judge me, you gods! Wrong I mine enemies? And if not so, how should I wrong a brother? CASSIUS Brutus, this sober form of yours hides wrongs, And when you do them-- BRUTUS Cassius, be content. Speak your griefs softly. I do know you well. Before the eyes of both our armies here (Which should perceive nothing but love from us), Let us not wrangle. Bid them move away. Then in my tent, Cassius, enlarge your griefs, And I will give you audience. CASSIUS Pindarus, Bid our commanders lead their charges off A little from this ground. BRUTUS Lucius, do you the like, and let no man Come to our tent till we have done our conference. Let Lucilius and Titinius guard our door. [All but Brutus and Cassius exit.] Scene 3 ======= CASSIUS That you have wronged me doth appear in this: You have condemned and noted Lucius Pella For taking bribes here of the Sardians, Wherein my letters, praying on his side Because I knew the man, was slighted off. BRUTUS You wronged yourself to write in such a case. CASSIUS In such a time as this it is not meet That every nice offense should bear his comment. BRUTUS Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself Are much condemned to have an itching palm, To sell and mart your offices for gold To undeservers. CASSIUS I an itching palm? You know that you are Brutus that speaks this, Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. BRUTUS The name of Cassius honors this corruption, And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. CASSIUS Chastisement? BRUTUS Remember March; the ides of March remember. Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake? What villain touched his body that did stab And not for justice? What, shall one of us That struck the foremost man of all this world But for supporting robbers, shall we now Contaminate our fingers with base bribes And sell the mighty space of our large honors For so much trash as may be grasped thus? I had rather be a dog and bay the moon Than such a Roman. CASSIUS Brutus, bait not me. I'll not endure it. You forget yourself To hedge me in. I am a soldier, I, Older in practice, abler than yourself To make conditions. BRUTUS Go to! You are not, Cassius. CASSIUS I am. BRUTUS I say you are not. CASSIUS Urge me no more. I shall forget myself. Have mind upon your health. Tempt me no farther. BRUTUS Away, slight man! CASSIUS Is 't possible? BRUTUS Hear me, for I will speak. Must I give way and room to your rash choler? Shall I be frighted when a madman stares? CASSIUS O you gods, you gods, must I endure all this? BRUTUS All this? Ay, more. Fret till your proud heart break. Go show your slaves how choleric you are And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch Under your testy humor? By the gods, You shall digest the venom of your spleen Though it do split you. For, from this day forth, I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, When you are waspish. CASSIUS Is it come to this? BRUTUS You say you are a better soldier. Let it appear so, make your vaunting true, And it shall please me well. For mine own part, I shall be glad to learn of noble men. CASSIUS You wrong me every way, you wrong me, Brutus. I said an elder soldier, not a better. Did I say "better"? BRUTUS If you did, I care not. CASSIUS When Caesar lived he durst not thus have moved me. BRUTUS Peace, peace! You durst not so have tempted him. CASSIUS I durst not? BRUTUS No. CASSIUS What? Durst not tempt him? BRUTUS For your life you durst not. CASSIUS Do not presume too much upon my love. I may do that I shall be sorry for. BRUTUS You have done that you should be sorry for. There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats, For I am armed so strong in honesty That they pass by me as the idle wind, Which I respect not. I did send to you For certain sums of gold, which you denied me, For I can raise no money by vile means. By heaven, I had rather coin my heart And drop my blood for drachmas than to wring From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash By any indirection. I did send To you for gold to pay my legions, Which you denied me. Was that done like Cassius? Should I have answered Caius Cassius so? When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous To lock such rascal counters from his friends, Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts; Dash him to pieces! CASSIUS I denied you not. BRUTUS You did. CASSIUS I did not. He was but a fool that brought My answer back. Brutus hath rived my heart. A friend should bear his friend's infirmities, But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. BRUTUS I do not, till you practice them on me. CASSIUS You love me not. BRUTUS I do not like your faults. CASSIUS A friendly eye could never see such faults. BRUTUS A flatterer's would not, though they do appear As huge as high Olympus. CASSIUS Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come! Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, For Cassius is aweary of the world-- Hated by one he loves, braved by his brother, Checked like a bondman, all his faults observed, Set in a notebook, learned and conned by rote To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep My spirit from mine eyes! There is my dagger, [Offering his dagger to Brutus.] And here my naked breast; within, a heart Dearer than Pluto's mine, richer than gold. If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth. I that denied thee gold will give my heart. Strike as thou didst at Caesar, for I know When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better Than ever thou lovedst Cassius. BRUTUS Sheathe your dagger. Be angry when you will, it shall have scope. Do what you will, dishonor shall be humor. O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb That carries anger as the flint bears fire, Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark And straight is cold again. CASSIUS Hath Cassius lived To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus When grief and blood ill-tempered vexeth him? BRUTUS When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered too. CASSIUS Do you confess so much? Give me your hand. BRUTUS And my heart too. [They clasp hands.] CASSIUS O Brutus! BRUTUS What's the matter? CASSIUS Have not you love enough to bear with me When that rash humor which my mother gave me Makes me forgetful? BRUTUS Yes, Cassius, and from henceforth When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so. [Enter a Poet followed by Lucilius, Titinius, and Lucius.] POET Let me go in to see the Generals. There is some grudge between 'em; 'tis not meet They be alone. LUCILIUS You shall not come to them. POET Nothing but death shall stay me. CASSIUS How now, what's the matter? POET For shame, you generals, what do you mean? Love and be friends as two such men should be, For I have seen more years, I'm sure, than ye. CASSIUS Ha, ha, how vilely doth this cynic rhyme! BRUTUS Get you hence, sirrah! Saucy fellow, hence! CASSIUS Bear with him, Brutus. 'Tis his fashion. BRUTUS I'll know his humor when he knows his time. What should the wars do with these jigging fools?-- Companion, hence! CASSIUS Away, away, be gone! [Poet exits.] BRUTUS Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders Prepare to lodge their companies tonight. CASSIUS And come yourselves, and bring Messala with you Immediately to us. [Lucilius and Titinius exit.] BRUTUS Lucius, a bowl of wine. [Lucius exits.] CASSIUS I did not think you could have been so angry. BRUTUS O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs. CASSIUS Of your philosophy you make no use If you give place to accidental evils. BRUTUS No man bears sorrow better. Portia is dead. CASSIUS Ha? Portia? BRUTUS She is dead. CASSIUS How 'scaped I killing when I crossed you so? O insupportable and touching loss! Upon what sickness? BRUTUS Impatient of my absence, And grief that young Octavius with Mark Antony Have made themselves so strong--for with her death That tidings came--with this she fell distract And, her attendants absent, swallowed fire. CASSIUS And died so? BRUTUS Even so. CASSIUS O you immortal gods! [Enter Lucius with wine and tapers.] BRUTUS Speak no more of her.--Give me a bowl of wine.-- In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius. [He drinks.] CASSIUS My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge.-- Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'erswell the cup; I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love. [He drinks.] [Lucius exits.] [Enter Titinius and Messala.] BRUTUS Come in, Titinius. Welcome, good Messala. Now sit we close about this taper here, And call in question our necessities. [They sit.] CASSIUS Portia, art thou gone? BRUTUS No more, I pray you.-- Messala, I have here received letters That young Octavius and Mark Antony Come down upon us with a mighty power, Bending their expedition toward Philippi. MESSALA Myself have letters of the selfsame tenor. BRUTUS With what addition? MESSALA That by proscription and bills of outlawry, Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus Have put to death an hundred senators. BRUTUS Therein our letters do not well agree. Mine speak of seventy senators that died By their proscriptions, Cicero being one. CASSIUS Cicero one? MESSALA Cicero is dead, And by that order of proscription. Had you your letters from your wife, my lord? BRUTUS No, Messala. MESSALA Nor nothing in your letters writ of her? BRUTUSNothing, Messala. MESSALA That methinks is strange. BRUTUS Why ask you? Hear you aught of her in yours? MESSALA No, my lord. BRUTUS Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true. MESSALA Then like a Roman bear the truth I tell, For certain she is dead, and by strange manner. BRUTUS Why, farewell, Portia. We must die, Messala. With meditating that she must die once, I have the patience to endure it now. MESSALA Even so great men great losses should endure. CASSIUS I have as much of this in art as you, But yet my nature could not bear it so. BRUTUS Well, to our work alive. What do you think Of marching to Philippi presently? CASSIUS I do not think it good. BRUTUS Your reason? CASSIUS This it is: 'Tis better that the enemy seek us; So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers, Doing himself offense, whilst we, lying still, Are full of rest, defense, and nimbleness. BRUTUS Good reasons must of force give place to better. The people 'twixt Philippi and this ground Do stand but in a forced affection, For they have grudged us contribution. The enemy, marching along by them, By them shall make a fuller number up, Come on refreshed, new-added, and encouraged, From which advantage shall we cut him off If at Philippi we do face him there, These people at our back. CASSIUS Hear me, good brother-- BRUTUS Under your pardon. You must note besides That we have tried the utmost of our friends, Our legions are brim full, our cause is ripe. The enemy increaseth every day; We, at the height, are ready to decline. There is a tide in the affairs of men Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat, And we must take the current when it serves Or lose our ventures. CASSIUS Then, with your will, go on; We'll along ourselves and meet them at Philippi. BRUTUS The deep of night is crept upon our talk, And nature must obey necessity, Which we will niggard with a little rest. There is no more to say. CASSIUS No more. Good night. [They stand.] Early tomorrow will we rise and hence. BRUTUS Lucius. [Enter Lucius.] My gown. [Lucius exits.] Farewell, good Messala.-- Good night, Titinius.--Noble, noble Cassius, Good night and good repose. CASSIUS O my dear brother, This was an ill beginning of the night. Never come such division 'tween our souls! Let it not, Brutus. [Enter Lucius with the gown.] BRUTUS Everything is well. CASSIUS Good night, my lord. BRUTUS Good night, good brother. TITINIUS/MESSALA Good night, Lord Brutus. BRUTUS Farewell, everyone. [All but Brutus and Lucius exit.] Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument? LUCIUS Here in the tent. BRUTUS What, thou speak'st drowsily? Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o'erwatched. Call Claudius and some other of my men; I'll have them sleep on cushions in my tent. LUCIUS Varro and Claudius. [Enter Varro and Claudius.] VARRO Calls my lord? BRUTUS I pray you, sirs, lie in my tent and sleep. It may be I shall raise you by and by On business to my brother Cassius. VARRO So please you, we will stand and watch your pleasure. BRUTUS I will not have it so. Lie down, good sirs. It may be I shall otherwise bethink me. [They lie down.] Look, Lucius, here's the book I sought for so. I put it in the pocket of my gown. LUCIUS I was sure your Lordship did not give it me. BRUTUS Bear with me, good boy, I am much forgetful. Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile And touch thy instrument a strain or two? LUCIUS Ay, my lord, an 't please you. BRUTUS It does, my boy. I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing. LUCIUS It is my duty, sir. BRUTUS I should not urge thy duty past thy might. I know young bloods look for a time of rest. LUCIUS I have slept, my lord, already. BRUTUS It was well done, and thou shalt sleep again. I will not hold thee long. If I do live, I will be good to thee. [Music and a song. Lucius then falls asleep.] This is a sleepy tune. O murd'rous slumber, Layest thou thy leaden mace upon my boy, That plays thee music?--Gentle knave, good night. I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee. If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument. I'll take it from thee and, good boy, good night. [He moves the instrument.] Let me see, let me see; is not the leaf turned down Where I left reading? Here it is, I think. How ill this taper burns. [Enter the Ghost of Caesar.] Ha, who comes here?-- I think it is the weakness of mine eyes That shapes this monstrous apparition. It comes upon me.--Art thou any thing? Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil, That mak'st my blood cold and my hair to stare? Speak to me what thou art. GHOST Thy evil spirit, Brutus. BRUTUS Why com'st thou? GHOST To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi. BRUTUS Well, then I shall see thee again? GHOST Ay, at Philippi. BRUTUS Why, I will see thee at Philippi, then. [Ghost exits.] Now I have taken heart, thou vanishest. Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee.-- Boy, Lucius!--Varro, Claudius, sirs, awake! Claudius! LUCIUS The strings, my lord, are false. BRUTUS He thinks he still is at his instrument. Lucius, awake! LUCIUS My lord? BRUTUS Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so criedst out? LUCIUS My lord, I do not know that I did cry. BRUTUS Yes, that thou didst. Didst thou see anything? LUCIUS Nothing, my lord. BRUTUS Sleep again, Lucius.--Sirrah Claudius! [To Varro.] Fellow thou, awake! [They rise up.] VARRO My lord? CLAUDIUS My lord? BRUTUS Why did you so cry out, sirs, in your sleep? BOTH Did we, my lord? BRUTUS Ay. Saw you anything? VARRO No, my lord, I saw nothing. CLAUDIUS Nor I, my lord. BRUTUS Go and commend me to my brother Cassius. Bid him set on his powers betimes before, And we will follow. BOTH It shall be done, my lord. [They exit.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Octavius, Antony, and their army.] OCTAVIUS Now, Antony, our hopes are answered. You said the enemy would not come down But keep the hills and upper regions. It proves not so; their battles are at hand. They mean to warn us at Philippi here, Answering before we do demand of them. ANTONY Tut, I am in their bosoms, and I know Wherefore they do it. They could be content To visit other places, and come down With fearful bravery, thinking by this face To fasten in our thoughts that they have courage. But 'tis not so. [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER Prepare you, generals. The enemy comes on in gallant show. Their bloody sign of battle is hung out, And something to be done immediately. ANTONY Octavius, lead your battle softly on Upon the left hand of the even field. OCTAVIUS Upon the right hand, I; keep thou the left. ANTONY Why do you cross me in this exigent? OCTAVIUS I do not cross you, but I will do so. [March.] [Drum. Enter Brutus, Cassius, and their army including Lucilius, Titinius, and Messala.] BRUTUS They stand and would have parley. CASSIUS Stand fast, Titinius. We must out and talk. OCTAVIUS Mark Antony, shall we give sign of battle? ANTONY No, Caesar, we will answer on their charge. Make forth. The Generals would have some words. OCTAVIUS, [to his Officers] Stir not until the signal. [The Generals step forward.] BRUTUS Words before blows; is it so, countrymen? OCTAVIUS Not that we love words better, as you do. BRUTUS Good words are better than bad strokes, Octavius. ANTONY In your bad strokes, Brutus, you give good words. Witness the hole you made in Caesar's heart, Crying "Long live, hail, Caesar!" CASSIUS Antony, The posture of your blows are yet unknown, But, for your words, they rob the Hybla bees And leave them honeyless. ANTONY Not stingless too. BRUTUS O yes, and soundless too, For you have stolen their buzzing, Antony, And very wisely threat before you sting. ANTONY Villains, you did not so when your vile daggers Hacked one another in the sides of Caesar. You showed your teeth like apes and fawned like hounds And bowed like bondmen, kissing Caesar's feet, Whilst damned Casca, like a cur, behind Struck Caesar on the neck. O you flatterers! CASSIUS Flatterers?--Now, Brutus, thank yourself! This tongue had not offended so today If Cassius might have ruled. OCTAVIUS Come, come, the cause. If arguing make us sweat, The proof of it will turn to redder drops. Look, I draw a sword against conspirators; [He draws.] When think you that the sword goes up again? Never, till Caesar's three and thirty wounds Be well avenged, or till another Caesar Have added slaughter to the sword of traitors. BRUTUS Caesar, thou canst not die by traitors' hands Unless thou bring'st them with thee. OCTAVIUS So I hope. I was not born to die on Brutus' sword. BRUTUS O, if thou wert the noblest of thy strain, Young man, thou couldst not die more honorable. CASSIUS A peevish schoolboy, worthless of such honor, Joined with a masker and a reveler! ANTONY Old Cassius still. OCTAVIUS Come, Antony, away!-- Defiance, traitors, hurl we in your teeth. If you dare fight today, come to the field; If not, when you have stomachs. [Octavius, Antony, and their army exit.] CASSIUS Why now, blow wind, swell billow, and swim bark! The storm is up, and all is on the hazard. BRUTUS Ho, Lucilius, hark, a word with you. [Lucilius and Messala stand forth.] LUCILIUS My lord? [Brutus and Lucilius step aside together.] CASSIUS Messala. MESSALA What says my general? CASSIUS Messala, This is my birthday, as this very day Was Cassius born. Give me thy hand, Messala. Be thou my witness that against my will (As Pompey was) am I compelled to set Upon one battle all our liberties. You know that I held Epicurus strong And his opinion. Now I change my mind And partly credit things that do presage. Coming from Sardis, on our former ensign Two mighty eagles fell, and there they perched, Gorging and feeding from our soldiers' hands, Who to Philippi here consorted us. This morning are they fled away and gone, And in their steads do ravens, crows, and kites Fly o'er our heads and downward look on us As we were sickly prey. Their shadows seem A canopy most fatal, under which Our army lies, ready to give up the ghost. MESSALA Believe not so. CASSIUS I but believe it partly, For I am fresh of spirit and resolved To meet all perils very constantly. BRUTUS Even so, Lucilius. [Brutus returns to Cassius.] CASSIUS Now, most noble Brutus, The gods today stand friendly that we may, Lovers in peace, lead on our days to age. But since the affairs of men rests still incertain, Let's reason with the worst that may befall. If we do lose this battle, then is this The very last time we shall speak together. What are you then determined to do? BRUTUS Even by the rule of that philosophy By which I did blame Cato for the death Which he did give himself (I know not how, But I do find it cowardly and vile, For fear of what might fall, so to prevent The time of life), arming myself with patience To stay the providence of some high powers That govern us below. CASSIUS Then, if we lose this battle, You are contented to be led in triumph Thorough the streets of Rome? BRUTUS No, Cassius, no. Think not, thou noble Roman, That ever Brutus will go bound to Rome. He bears too great a mind. But this same day Must end that work the ides of March begun. And whether we shall meet again, I know not. Therefore our everlasting farewell take. Forever and forever farewell, Cassius. If we do meet again, why we shall smile; If not, why then this parting was well made. CASSIUS Forever and forever farewell, Brutus. If we do meet again, we'll smile indeed; If not, 'tis true this parting was well made. BRUTUS Why then, lead on.--O, that a man might know The end of this day's business ere it come! But it sufficeth that the day will end, And then the end is known.--Come ho, away! [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Alarum. Enter Brutus and Messala.] BRUTUS Ride, ride, Messala, ride, and give these bills Unto the legions on the other side! [He hands Messala papers.] [Loud alarum.] Let them set on at once, for I perceive But cold demeanor in Octavius' wing, And sudden push gives them the overthrow. Ride, ride, Messala! Let them all come down. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Alarums. Enter Cassius carrying a standard and Titinius.] CASSIUS O, look, Titinius, look, the villains fly! Myself have to mine own turned enemy. This ensign here of mine was turning back; I slew the coward and did take it from him. TITINIUS O Cassius, Brutus gave the word too early, Who, having some advantage on Octavius, Took it too eagerly. His soldiers fell to spoil, Whilst we by Antony are all enclosed. [Enter Pindarus.] PINDARUS Fly further off, my lord, fly further off! Mark Antony is in your tents, my lord. Fly therefore, noble Cassius, fly far off. CASSIUS This hill is far enough.--Look, look, Titinius, Are those my tents where I perceive the fire? TITINIUS They are, my lord. CASSIUS Titinius, if thou lovest me, Mount thou my horse and hide thy spurs in him Till he have brought thee up to yonder troops And here again, that I may rest assured Whether yond troops are friend or enemy. TITINIUS I will be here again even with a thought. [He exits.] CASSIUS Go, Pindarus, get higher on that hill. My sight was ever thick. Regard Titinius And tell me what thou not'st about the field. [Pindarus goes up.] This day I breathed first. Time is come round, And where I did begin, there shall I end; My life is run his compass.--Sirrah, what news? PINDARUS, [above.] O my lord! CASSIUS What news? PINDARUS Titinius is enclosed round about With horsemen that make to him on the spur, Yet he spurs on. Now they are almost on him. Now Titinius! Now some light. O, he lights too. He's ta'en. [Shout.] And hark, they shout for joy. CASSIUS Come down, behold no more.-- O, coward that I am to live so long To see my best friend ta'en before my face! [Pindarus comes down.] Come hither, sirrah. In Parthia did I take thee prisoner, And then I swore thee, saving of thy life, That whatsoever I did bid thee do Thou shouldst attempt it. Come now, keep thine oath. Now be a freeman, and with this good sword, That ran through Caesar's bowels, search this bosom. Stand not to answer. Here, take thou the hilts, And, when my face is covered, as 'tis now, Guide thou the sword. [Pindarus stabs him.] Caesar, thou art revenged Even with the sword that killed thee. [He dies.] PINDARUS So I am free, yet would not so have been, Durst I have done my will.--O Cassius!-- Far from this country Pindarus shall run, Where never Roman shall take note of him. [He exits.] [Enter Titinius and Messala.] MESSALA It is but change, Titinius, for Octavius Is overthrown by noble Brutus' power, As Cassius' legions are by Antony. TITINIUS These tidings will well comfort Cassius. MESSALA Where did you leave him? TITINIUS All disconsolate, With Pindarus his bondman, on this hill. MESSALA Is not that he that lies upon the ground? TITINIUS He lies not like the living. O my heart! MESSALA Is not that he? TITINIUS No, this was he, Messala, But Cassius is no more. O setting sun, As in thy red rays thou dost sink to night, So in his red blood Cassius' day is set. The sun of Rome is set. Our day is gone; Clouds, dews, and dangers come. Our deeds are done. Mistrust of my success hath done this deed. MESSALA Mistrust of good success hath done this deed. O hateful error, melancholy's child, Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men The things that are not? O error, soon conceived, Thou never com'st unto a happy birth But kill'st the mother that engendered thee! TITINIUS What, Pindarus! Where art thou, Pindarus? MESSALA Seek him, Titinius, whilst I go to meet The noble Brutus, thrusting this report Into his ears. I may say "thrusting it," For piercing steel and darts envenomed Shall be as welcome to the ears of Brutus As tidings of this sight. TITINIUS Hie you, Messala, And I will seek for Pindarus the while. [Messala exits.] Why didst thou send me forth, brave Cassius? Did I not meet thy friends, and did not they Put on my brows this wreath of victory And bid me give it thee? Didst thou not hear their shouts? Alas, thou hast misconstrued everything. But hold thee, take this garland on thy brow. [Laying the garland on Cassius' brow.] Thy Brutus bid me give it thee, and I Will do his bidding.--Brutus, come apace, And see how I regarded Caius Cassius.-- By your leave, gods, this is a Roman's part. Come, Cassius' sword, and find Titinius' heart! [He dies on Cassius' sword.] [Alarum. Enter Brutus, Messala, young Cato, Strato, Volumnius, and Lucilius, Labeo, and Flavius.] BRUTUS Where, where, Messala, doth his body lie? MESSALA Lo, yonder, and Titinius mourning it. BRUTUS Titinius' face is upward. CATO He is slain. BRUTUS O Julius Caesar, thou art mighty yet; Thy spirit walks abroad and turns our swords In our own proper entrails. [Low alarums.] CATO Brave Titinius!-- Look whe'er he have not crowned dead Cassius. BRUTUS Are yet two Romans living such as these?-- The last of all the Romans, fare thee well. It is impossible that ever Rome Should breed thy fellow.--Friends, I owe more tears To this dead man than you shall see me pay.-- I shall find time, Cassius; I shall find time.-- Come, therefore, and to Thasos send his body. His funerals shall not be in our camp, Lest it discomfort us.--Lucilius, come.-- And come, young Cato. Let us to the field.-- Labeo and Flavius, set our battles on. 'Tis three o'clock, and, Romans, yet ere night We shall try fortune in a second fight. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Alarum. Enter Brutus, Messala, Cato, Lucilius, and Flavius.] BRUTUS Yet, countrymen, O, yet hold up your heads! [Brutus, Messala, and Flavius exit.] CATO What bastard doth not? Who will go with me? I will proclaim my name about the field. I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho! A foe to tyrants and my country's friend. I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho! [Enter Soldiers and fight.] LUCILIUS And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I! Brutus, my country's friend! Know me for Brutus. [Cato is killed.] O young and noble Cato, art thou down? Why, now thou diest as bravely as Titinius And mayst be honored, being Cato's son. FIRST SOLDIER, [seizing Lucilius] Yield, or thou diest. LUCILIUS Only I yield to die. There is so much that thou wilt kill me straight. [Offering money.] Kill Brutus and be honored in his death. FIRST SOLDIER We must not. A noble prisoner! [Enter Antony.] SECOND SOLDIER Room, ho! Tell Antony Brutus is ta'en. FIRST SOLDIER I'll tell the news. Here comes the General.-- Brutus is ta'en, Brutus is ta'en, my lord. ANTONY Where is he? LUCILIUS Safe, Antony, Brutus is safe enough. I dare assure thee that no enemy Shall ever take alive the noble Brutus. The gods defend him from so great a shame! When you do find him, or alive or dead, He will be found like Brutus, like himself. ANTONY This is not Brutus, friend, but I assure you, A prize no less in worth. Keep this man safe. Give him all kindness. I had rather have Such men my friends than enemies. Go on, And see whe'er Brutus be alive or dead, And bring us word unto Octavius' tent How everything is chanced. [They exit in different directions.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Brutus, Dardanus, Clitus, Strato, and Volumnius.] BRUTUS Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock. [He sits down.] CLITUS Statilius showed the torchlight, but, my lord, He came not back. He is or ta'en or slain. BRUTUS Sit thee down, Clitus. Slaying is the word; It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus. [He whispers to Clitus.] CLITUS What, I, my lord? No, not for all the world. BRUTUS Peace, then, no words. CLITUS I'll rather kill myself. BRUTUS Hark thee, Dardanus. [He whispers to Dardanus.] DARDANUS Shall I do such a deed? CLITUS O Dardanus! DARDANUS O Clitus! [Dardanus and Clitus step aside.] CLITUS What ill request did Brutus make to thee? DARDANUS To kill him, Clitus. Look, he meditates. CLITUS Now is that noble vessel full of grief, That it runs over even at his eyes. BRUTUS Come hither, good Volumnius. List a word. VOLUMNIUS What says my lord? BRUTUS Why this, Volumnius: The ghost of Caesar hath appeared to me Two several times by night--at Sardis once And this last night here in Philippi fields. I know my hour is come. VOLUMNIUS Not so, my lord. BRUTUS Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius. Thou seest the world, Volumnius, how it goes. Our enemies have beat us to the pit. [Low alarums.] It is more worthy to leap in ourselves Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius, Thou know'st that we two went to school together; Even for that our love of old, I prithee, Hold thou my sword hilts whilst I run on it. VOLUMNIUS That's not an office for a friend, my lord. [Alarum continues.] CLITUS Fly, fly, my lord! There is no tarrying here. BRUTUS Farewell to you--and you--and you, Volumnius.-- Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep. Farewell to thee, too, Strato.--Countrymen, My heart doth joy that yet in all my life I found no man but he was true to me. I shall have glory by this losing day More than Octavius and Mark Antony By this vile conquest shall attain unto. So fare you well at once, for Brutus' tongue Hath almost ended his life's history. Night hangs upon mine eyes; my bones would rest, That have but labored to attain this hour. [Alarum. Cry within "Fly, fly, fly!"] CLITUS Fly, my lord, fly! BRUTUS Hence. I will follow. [All exit but Brutus and Strato.] I prithee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord. Thou art a fellow of a good respect; Thy life hath had some smatch of honor in it. Hold, then, my sword, and turn away thy face While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato? STRATO Give me your hand first. Fare you well, my lord. BRUTUS Farewell, good Strato. [Brutus runs on his sword.] Caesar, now be still. I killed not thee with half so good a will. [He dies.] [Alarum. Retreat. Enter Antony, Octavius, Messala, Lucilius, and the army.] OCTAVIUS What man is that? MESSALA My master's man.--Strato, where is thy master? STRATO Free from the bondage you are in, Messala. The conquerors can but make a fire of him, For Brutus only overcame himself, And no man else hath honor by his death. LUCILIUS So Brutus should be found.--I thank thee, Brutus, That thou hast proved Lucilius' saying true. OCTAVIUS All that served Brutus, I will entertain them.-- Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me? STRATO Ay, if Messala will prefer me to you. OCTAVIUS Do so, good Messala. MESSALA How died my master, Strato? STRATO I held the sword, and he did run on it. MESSALA Octavius, then take him to follow thee, That did the latest service to my master. ANTONY This was the noblest Roman of them all. All the conspirators save only he Did that they did in envy of great Caesar. He only in a general honest thought And common good to all made one of them. His life was gentle and the elements So mixed in him that nature might stand up And say to all the world "This was a man." OCTAVIUS According to his virtue, let us use him With all respect and rites of burial. Within my tent his bones tonight shall lie, Most like a soldier, ordered honorably. So call the field to rest, and let's away To part the glories of this happy day. [They all exit.]

King John by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== JOHN, King of England, with dominion over assorted Continental territories QUEEN ELEANOR, King John's mother, widow of King Henry II BLANCHE of Spain, niece to King John PRINCE HENRY, son to King John CONSTANCE, widow of Geoffrey, King John's elder brother ARTHUR, Duke of Brittany, her son KING PHILIP II of France LOUIS THE DAUPHIN, his son DUKE OF AUSTRIA (also called LIMOGES) CHATILLION, ambassador from France to King John COUNT MELUN A FRENCH HERALD CARDINAL PANDULPH, Papal Legate LADY FAULCONBRIDGE The BASTARD, PHILIP FAULCONBRIDGE, her son by King Richard I ROBERT FAULCONBRIDGE, her son by Sir Robert Faulconbridge JAMES GURNEY, her servant HUBERT, supporter of King John English nobles: EARL OF SALISBURY EARL OF PEMBROKE EARL OF ESSEX LORD BIGOT A CITIZEN of Angiers PETER of Pomfret, a Prophet An ENGLISH HERALD EXECUTIONERS English MESSENGER, French MESSENGER, Sheriff, Lords, Soldiers, Attendants ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter King John, Queen Eleanor, Pembroke, Essex, and Salisbury, with the Chatillion of France.] KING JOHN Now say, Chatillion, what would France with us? CHATILLION Thus, after greeting, speaks the King of France In my behavior to the majesty, The borrowed majesty, of England here. QUEEN ELEANOR A strange beginning: "borrowed majesty"! KING JOHN Silence, good mother. Hear the embassy. CHATILLION Philip of France, in right and true behalf Of thy deceased brother Geoffrey's son, Arthur Plantagenet, lays most lawful claim To this fair island and the territories, To Ireland, Poitiers, Anjou, Touraine, Maine, Desiring thee to lay aside the sword Which sways usurpingly these several titles, And put the same into young Arthur's hand, Thy nephew and right royal sovereign. KING JOHN What follows if we disallow of this? CHATILLION The proud control of fierce and bloody war, To enforce these rights so forcibly withheld. KING JOHN Here have we war for war and blood for blood, Controlment for controlment: so answer France. CHATILLION Then take my king's defiance from my mouth, The farthest limit of my embassy. KING JOHN Bear mine to him, and so depart in peace. Be thou as lightning in the eyes of France, For ere thou canst report, I will be there; The thunder of my cannon shall be heard. So, hence. Be thou the trumpet of our wrath And sullen presage of your own decay.-- An honorable conduct let him have. Pembroke, look to 't.--Farewell, Chatillion. [Chatillion and Pembroke exit.] QUEEN ELEANOR, [aside to King John] What now, my son! Have I not ever said How that ambitious Constance would not cease Till she had kindled France and all the world Upon the right and party of her son? This might have been prevented and made whole With very easy arguments of love, Which now the manage of two kingdoms must With fearful bloody issue arbitrate. KING JOHN, [aside to Queen Eleanor] Our strong possession and our right for us. QUEEN ELEANOR, [aside to King John] Your strong possession much more than your right, Or else it must go wrong with you and me-- So much my conscience whispers in your ear, Which none but God and you and I shall hear. [Enter a Sheriff, who speaks aside to Essex.] ESSEX My liege, here is the strangest controversy Come from the country to be judged by you That e'er I heard. Shall I produce the men? KING JOHN Let them approach. [Sheriff exits.] Our abbeys and our priories shall pay This expedition's charge. [Enter Robert Faulconbridge and Philip Faulconbridge.] What men are you? PHILIP FAULCONBRIDGE Your faithful subject I, a gentleman, Born in Northamptonshire, and eldest son, As I suppose, to Robert Faulconbridge, A soldier, by the honor-giving hand Of Coeur de Lion knighted in the field. KING JOHN, [to Robert Faulconbridge] What art thou? ROBERT FAULCONBRIDGE The son and heir to that same Faulconbridge. KING JOHN Is that the elder, and art thou the heir? You came not of one mother then, it seems. PHILIP FAULCONBRIDGE Most certain of one mother, mighty king-- That is well known--and, as I think, one father. But for the certain knowledge of that truth I put you o'er to heaven and to my mother. Of that I doubt, as all men's children may. QUEEN ELEANOR Out on thee, rude man! Thou dost shame thy mother And wound her honor with this diffidence. PHILIP FAULCONBRIDGE I, madam? No, I have no reason for it. That is my brother's plea, and none of mine, The which if he can prove, he pops me out At least from fair five hundred pound a year. Heaven guard my mother's honor and my land! KING JOHN A good blunt fellow.--Why, being younger born, Doth he lay claim to thine inheritance? PHILIP FAULCONBRIDGE I know not why, except to get the land. But once he slandered me with bastardy. But whe'er I be as true begot or no, That still I lay upon my mother's head. But that I am as well begot, my liege-- Fair fall the bones that took the pains for me!-- Compare our faces and be judge yourself. If old Sir Robert did beget us both And were our father, and this son like him, O, old Sir Robert, father, on my knee I give heaven thanks I was not like to thee! KING JOHN Why, what a madcap hath heaven lent us here! QUEEN ELEANOR, [aside to King John] He hath a trick of Coeur de Lion's face; The accent of his tongue affecteth him. Do you not read some tokens of my son In the large composition of this man? KING JOHN, [aside to Queen Eleanor] Mine eye hath well examined his parts And finds them perfect Richard. [To Robert Faulconbridge] Sirrah, speak. What doth move you to claim your brother's land? PHILIP FAULCONBRIDGE Because he hath a half-face, like my father. With half that face would he have all my land-- A half-faced groat five hundred pound a year! ROBERT FAULCONBRIDGE My gracious liege, when that my father lived, Your brother did employ my father much-- PHILIP FAULCONBRIDGE Well, sir, by this you cannot get my land. Your tale must be how he employed my mother. ROBERT FAULCONBRIDGE And once dispatched him in an embassy To Germany, there with the Emperor To treat of high affairs touching that time. Th' advantage of his absence took the King And in the meantime sojourned at my father's; Where how he did prevail I shame to speak. But truth is truth: large lengths of seas and shores Between my father and my mother lay, As I have heard my father speak himself, When this same lusty gentleman was got. Upon his deathbed he by will bequeathed His lands to me, and took it on his death That this my mother's son was none of his; An if he were, he came into the world Full fourteen weeks before the course of time. Then, good my liege, let me have what is mine, My father's land, as was my father's will. KING JOHN Sirrah, your brother is legitimate. Your father's wife did after wedlock bear him, An if she did play false, the fault was hers, Which fault lies on the hazards of all husbands That marry wives. Tell me, how if my brother, Who as you say took pains to get this son, Had of your father claimed this son for his? In sooth, good friend, your father might have kept This calf, bred from his cow, from all the world; In sooth he might. Then if he were my brother's, My brother might not claim him, nor your father, Being none of his, refuse him. This concludes: My mother's son did get your father's heir; Your father's heir must have your father's land. ROBERT FAULCONBRIDGE Shall then my father's will be of no force To dispossess that child which is not his? PHILIP FAULCONBRIDGE Of no more force to dispossess me, sir, Than was his will to get me, as I think. QUEEN ELEANOR Whether hadst thou rather: be a Faulconbridge And, like thy brother, to enjoy thy land, Or the reputed son of Coeur de Lion, Lord of thy presence, and no land besides? BASTARD Madam, an if my brother had my shape And I had his, Sir Robert's his like him, And if my legs were two such riding-rods, My arms such eel-skins stuffed, my face so thin That in mine ear I durst not stick a rose, Lest men should say "Look where three-farthings goes," And, to his shape, were heir to all this land, Would I might never stir from off this place, I would give it every foot to have this face. I would not be Sir Nob in any case. QUEEN ELEANOR I like thee well. Wilt thou forsake thy fortune, Bequeath thy land to him, and follow me? I am a soldier and now bound to France. BASTARD Brother, take you my land. I'll take my chance. Your face hath got five hundred pound a year, Yet sell your face for five pence and 'tis dear.-- Madam, I'll follow you unto the death. QUEEN ELEANOR Nay, I would have you go before me thither. BASTARD Our country manners give our betters way. KING JOHN What is thy name? BASTARD Philip, my liege, so is my name begun, Philip, good old Sir Robert's wife's eldest son. KING JOHN From henceforth bear his name whose form thou bearest. Kneel thou down Philip, but rise more great. [Philip kneels. King John dubs him a knight, tapping him on the shoulder with his sword.] Arise Sir Richard and Plantagenet. BASTARD, [rising, to Robert Faulconbridge] Brother by th' mother's side, give me your hand. My father gave me honor, yours gave land. Now blessed be the hour, by night or day, When I was got, Sir Robert was away! QUEEN ELEANOR The very spirit of Plantagenet! I am thy grandam, Richard. Call me so. BASTARD Madam, by chance but not by truth. What though? Something about, a little from the right, In at the window, or else o'er the hatch. Who dares not stir by day must walk by night, And have is have, however men do catch. Near or far off, well won is still well shot, And I am I, howe'er I was begot. KING JOHN, [to Robert Faulconbridge] Go, Faulconbridge, now hast thou thy desire. A landless knight makes thee a landed squire.-- Come, madam,--and come, Richard. We must speed For France, for France, for it is more than need. BASTARD Brother, adieu, good fortune come to thee, For thou wast got i' th' way of honesty. [All but Bastard exit.] A foot of honor better than I was, But many a many foot of land the worse. Well, now can I make any Joan a lady. "Good den, Sir Richard!" "God-a-mercy, fellow!" An if his name be George, I'll call him "Peter," For new-made honor doth forget men's names; 'Tis too respective and too sociable For your conversion. Now your traveler, He and his toothpick at my Worship's mess, And when my knightly stomach is sufficed, Why then I suck my teeth and catechize My picked man of countries: "My dear sir," Thus leaning on mine elbow I begin, "I shall beseech you"--that is Question now, And then comes Answer like an absey-book: "O, sir," says Answer, "at your best command, At your employment, at your service, sir." "No, sir," says Question, "I, sweet sir, at yours." And so, ere Answer knows what Question would, Saving in dialogue of compliment And talking of the Alps and Apennines, The Pyrenean and the river Po, It draws toward supper in conclusion so. But this is worshipful society And fits the mounting spirit like myself; For he is but a bastard to the time That doth not smack of observation, And so am I whether I smack or no; And not alone in habit and device, Exterior form, outward accouterment, But from the inward motion to deliver Sweet, sweet, sweet poison for the age's tooth, Which though I will not practice to deceive, Yet to avoid deceit I mean to learn, For it shall strew the footsteps of my rising. [Enter Lady Faulconbridge and James Gurney.] But who comes in such haste in riding robes? What woman post is this? Hath she no husband That will take pains to blow a horn before her? O me, 'tis my mother.--How now, good lady? What brings you here to court so hastily? LADY FAULCONBRIDGE Where is that slave thy brother? Where is he That holds in chase mine honor up and down? BASTARD My brother Robert, old Sir Robert's son? Colbrand the Giant, that same mighty man? Is it Sir Robert's son that you seek so? LADY FAULCONBRIDGE "Sir Robert's son"? Ay, thou unreverent boy, Sir Robert's son. Why scorn'st thou at Sir Robert? He is Sir Robert's son, and so art thou. BASTARD James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave awhile? GURNEY Good leave, good Philip. BASTARD "Philip Sparrow," James. There's toys abroad. Anon I'll tell thee more. [James Gurney exits.] Madam, I was not old Sir Robert's son. Sir Robert might have eat his part in me Upon Good Friday and ne'er broke his fast. Sir Robert could do well--marry, to confess-- Could he get me. Sir Robert could not do it; We know his handiwork. Therefore, good mother, To whom am I beholding for these limbs? Sir Robert never holp to make this leg. LADY FAULCONBRIDGE Hast thou conspired with thy brother too, That for thine own gain shouldst defend mine honor? What means this scorn, thou most untoward knave? BASTARD Knight, knight, good mother, Basilisco-like. What, I am dubbed! I have it on my shoulder. But, mother, I am not Sir Robert's son. I have disclaimed Sir Robert and my land. Legitimation, name, and all is gone. Then, good my mother, let me know my father-- Some proper man, I hope. Who was it, mother? LADY FAULCONBRIDGE Hast thou denied thyself a Faulconbridge? BASTARD As faithfully as I deny the devil. LADY FAULCONBRIDGE King Richard Coeur de Lion was thy father. By long and vehement suit I was seduced To make room for him in my husband's bed. Heaven lay not my transgression to my charge! Thou art the issue of my dear offense, Which was so strongly urged past my defense. BASTARD Now, by this light, were I to get again, Madam, I would not wish a better father. Some sins do bear their privilege on Earth, And so doth yours. Your fault was not your folly. Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose, Subjected tribute to commanding love, Against whose fury and unmatched force The aweless lion could not wage the fight, Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hand. He that perforce robs lions of their hearts May easily win a woman's. Ay, my mother, With all my heart I thank thee for my father. Who lives and dares but say thou didst not well When I was got, I'll send his soul to hell. Come, lady, I will show thee to my kin, And they shall say when Richard me begot, If thou hadst said him nay, it had been sin. Who says it was, he lies. I say 'twas not. [They exit.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter, before Angiers, at one side, with Forces, Philip King of France, Louis the Dauphin, Constance, Arthur, and Attendants; at the other side, with Forces, Austria, wearing a lion's skin.] DAUPHIN Before Angiers well met, brave Austria.-- Arthur, that great forerunner of thy blood, Richard, that robbed the lion of his heart And fought the holy wars in Palestine, By this brave duke came early to his grave. And, for amends to his posterity, At our importance hither is he come To spread his colors, boy, in thy behalf, And to rebuke the usurpation Of thy unnatural uncle, English John. Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither. ARTHUR God shall forgive you Coeur de Lion's death The rather that you give his offspring life, Shadowing their right under your wings of war. I give you welcome with a powerless hand But with a heart full of unstained love. Welcome before the gates of Angiers, duke. DAUPHIN A noble boy. Who would not do thee right? AUSTRIA, [to Arthur] Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss As seal to this indenture of my love: That to my home I will no more return Till Angiers and the right thou hast in France, Together with that pale, that white-faced shore, Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides And coops from other lands her islanders, Even till that England, hedged in with the main, That water-walled bulwark, still secure And confident from foreign purposes, Even till that utmost corner of the West Salute thee for her king. Till then, fair boy, Will I not think of home, but follow arms. CONSTANCE O, take his mother's thanks, a widow's thanks, Till your strong hand shall help to give him strength To make a more requital to your love. AUSTRIA The peace of heaven is theirs that lift their swords In such a just and charitable war. KING PHILIP Well, then, to work. Our cannon shall be bent Against the brows of this resisting town. Call for our chiefest men of discipline To cull the plots of best advantages. We'll lay before this town our royal bones, Wade to the marketplace in Frenchmen's blood, But we will make it subject to this boy. CONSTANCE Stay for an answer to your embassy, Lest unadvised you stain your swords with blood. My lord Chatillion may from England bring That right in peace which here we urge in war, And then we shall repent each drop of blood That hot rash haste so indirectly shed. [Enter Chatillion.] KING PHILIP A wonder, lady! Lo, upon thy wish Our messenger Chatillion is arrived.-- What England says say briefly, gentle lord. We coldly pause for thee. Chatillion, speak. CHATILLION Then turn your forces from this paltry siege And stir them up against a mightier task. England, impatient of your just demands, Hath put himself in arms. The adverse winds, Whose leisure I have stayed, have given him time To land his legions all as soon as I. His marches are expedient to this town, His forces strong, his soldiers confident. With him along is come the Mother Queen, An Ate stirring him to blood and strife; With her her niece, the Lady Blanche of Spain; With them a bastard of the King's deceased. And all th' unsettled humors of the land-- Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries, With ladies' faces and fierce dragons' spleens-- Have sold their fortunes at their native homes, Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs, To make a hazard of new fortunes here. In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er Did never float upon the swelling tide To do offense and scathe in Christendom. [Drum beats.] The interruption of their churlish drums Cuts off more circumstance. They are at hand, To parley or to fight, therefore prepare. KING PHILIP How much unlooked-for is this expedition. AUSTRIA By how much unexpected, by so much We must awake endeavor for defense, For courage mounteth with occasion. Let them be welcome, then. We are prepared. [Enter King John of England, Bastard, Queen Eleanor, Blanche, Salisbury, Pembroke, and others.] KING JOHN Peace be to France, if France in peace permit Our just and lineal entrance to our own. If not, bleed France, and peace ascend to heaven, Whiles we, God's wrathful agent, do correct Their proud contempt that beats his peace to heaven. KING PHILIP Peace be to England, if that war return From France to England, there to live in peace. England we love, and for that England's sake With burden of our armor here we sweat. This toil of ours should be a work of thine; But thou from loving England art so far That thou hast underwrought his lawful king, Cut off the sequence of posterity, Outfaced infant state, and done a rape Upon the maiden virtue of the crown. Look here upon thy brother Geoffrey's face. [He points to Arthur.] These eyes, these brows, were molded out of his; This little abstract doth contain that large Which died in Geoffrey, and the hand of time Shall draw this brief into as huge a volume. That Geoffrey was thy elder brother born, And this his son. England was Geoffrey's right, And this is Geoffrey's. In the name of God, How comes it then that thou art called a king, When living blood doth in these temples beat Which owe the crown that thou o'ermasterest? KING JOHN From whom hast thou this great commission, France, To draw my answer from thy articles? KING PHILIP From that supernal judge that stirs good thoughts In any breast of strong authority To look into the blots and stains of right. That judge hath made me guardian to this boy, Under whose warrant I impeach thy wrong, And by whose help I mean to chastise it. KING JOHN Alack, thou dost usurp authority. KING PHILIP Excuse it is to beat usurping down. QUEEN ELEANOR Who is it thou dost call usurper, France? CONSTANCE Let me make answer: thy usurping son. QUEEN ELEANOR Out, insolent! Thy bastard shall be king That thou mayst be a queen and check the world. CONSTANCE My bed was ever to thy son as true As thine was to thy husband, and this boy Liker in feature to his father Geoffrey Than thou and John, in manners being as like As rain to water or devil to his dam. My boy a bastard? By my soul, I think His father never was so true begot. It cannot be, an if thou wert his mother. QUEEN ELEANOR, [to Arthur] There's a good mother, boy, that blots thy father. CONSTANCE There's a good grandam, boy, that would blot thee. AUSTRIA Peace! BASTARD Hear the crier! AUSTRIA What the devil art thou? BASTARD One that will play the devil, sir, with you, An he may catch your hide and you alone. You are the hare of whom the proverb goes, Whose valor plucks dead lions by the beard. I'll smoke your skin-coat an I catch you right. Sirrah, look to 't. I' faith, I will, i' faith! BLANCHE O, well did he become that lion's robe That did disrobe the lion of that robe. BASTARD It lies as sightly on the back of him As great Alcides' shoes upon an ass.-- But, ass, I'll take that burden from your back Or lay on that shall make your shoulders crack. AUSTRIA What cracker is this same that deafs our ears With this abundance of superfluous breath? KING PHILIP Louis, determine what we shall do straight. DAUPHIN Women and fools, break off your conference.-- King John, this is the very sum of all: England and Ireland, Anjou, Touraine, Maine, In right of Arthur do I claim of thee. Wilt thou resign them and lay down thy arms? KING JOHN My life as soon! I do defy thee, France.-- Arthur of Brittany, yield thee to my hand, And out of my dear love I'll give thee more Than e'er the coward hand of France can win. Submit thee, boy. QUEEN ELEANOR Come to thy grandam, child. CONSTANCE Do, child, go to it grandam, child. Give grandam kingdom, and it grandam will Give it a plum, a cherry, and a fig. There's a good grandam. ARTHUR, [weeping] Good my mother, peace. I would that I were low laid in my grave. I am not worth this coil that's made for me. QUEEN ELEANOR His mother shames him so, poor boy, he weeps. CONSTANCE Now shame upon you whe'er she does or no! His grandam's wrongs, and not his mother's shames, Draws those heaven-moving pearls from his poor eyes, Which heaven shall take in nature of a fee. Ay, with these crystal beads heaven shall be bribed To do him justice and revenge on you. QUEEN ELEANOR Thou monstrous slanderer of heaven and Earth! CONSTANCE Thou monstrous injurer of heaven and Earth, Call not me slanderer. Thou and thine usurp The dominations, royalties, and rights Of this oppressed boy. This is thy eldest son's son, Infortunate in nothing but in thee. Thy sins are visited in this poor child. The canon of the law is laid on him, Being but the second generation Removed from thy sin-conceiving womb. KING JOHN Bedlam, have done. CONSTANCE I have but this to say, That he is not only plagued for her sin, But God hath made her sin and her the plague On this removed issue, plagued for her, And with her plague; her sin his injury, Her injury the beadle to her sin, All punished in the person of this child And all for her. A plague upon her! QUEEN ELEANOR Thou unadvised scold, I can produce A will that bars the title of thy son. CONSTANCE Ay, who doubts that? A will--a wicked will, A woman's will, a cankered grandam's will. KING PHILIP Peace, lady. Pause, or be more temperate. It ill beseems this presence to cry aim To these ill-tuned repetitions.-- Some trumpet summon hither to the walls These men of Angiers. Let us hear them speak Whose title they admit, Arthur's or John's. [Trumpet sounds.] [Enter Citizens upon the walls.] CITIZEN Who is it that hath warned us to the walls? KING PHILIP 'Tis France, for England. KING JOHN England, for itself. You men of Angiers, and my loving subjects-- KING PHILIP You loving men of Angiers, Arthur's subjects, Our trumpet called you to this gentle parle-- KING JOHN For our advantage. Therefore hear us first. These flags of France that are advanced here Before the eye and prospect of your town, Have hither marched to your endamagement. The cannons have their bowels full of wrath, And ready mounted are they to spit forth Their iron indignation 'gainst your walls. All preparation for a bloody siege And merciless proceeding by these French Confronts your city's eyes, your winking gates, And, but for our approach, those sleeping stones, That as a waist doth girdle you about, By the compulsion of their ordinance By this time from their fixed beds of lime Had been dishabited, and wide havoc made For bloody power to rush upon your peace. But on the sight of us your lawful king, Who painfully with much expedient march Have brought a countercheck before your gates To save unscratched your city's threatened cheeks, Behold, the French, amazed, vouchsafe a parle. And now, instead of bullets wrapped in fire To make a shaking fever in your walls, They shoot but calm words folded up in smoke To make a faithless error in your ears, Which trust accordingly, kind citizens, And let us in. Your king, whose labored spirits Forwearied in this action of swift speed, Craves harborage within your city walls. KING PHILIP When I have said, make answer to us both. [He takes Arthur by the hand.] Lo, in this right hand, whose protection Is most divinely vowed upon the right Of him it holds, stands young Plantagenet, Son to the elder brother of this man, And king o'er him and all that he enjoys. For this downtrodden equity we tread In warlike march these greens before your town, Being no further enemy to you Than the constraint of hospitable zeal In the relief of this oppressed child Religiously provokes. Be pleased then To pay that duty which you truly owe To him that owes it, namely, this young prince, And then our arms, like to a muzzled bear Save in aspect, hath all offense sealed up. Our cannons' malice vainly shall be spent Against th' invulnerable clouds of heaven, And with a blessed and unvexed retire, With unbacked swords and helmets all unbruised, We will bear home that lusty blood again Which here we came to spout against your town, And leave your children, wives, and you in peace. But if you fondly pass our proffered offer, 'Tis not the roundure of your old-faced walls Can hide you from our messengers of war, Though all these English and their discipline Were harbored in their rude circumference. Then tell us, shall your city call us lord In that behalf which we have challenged it? Or shall we give the signal to our rage And stalk in blood to our possession? CITIZEN In brief, we are the King of England's subjects. For him, and in his right, we hold this town. KING JOHN Acknowledge then the King and let me in. CITIZEN That can we not. But he that proves the King, To him will we prove loyal. Till that time Have we rammed up our gates against the world. KING JOHN Doth not the crown of England prove the King? And if not that, I bring you witnesses, Twice fifteen thousand hearts of England's breed-- BASTARD Bastards and else. KING JOHN To verify our title with their lives. KING PHILIP As many and as wellborn bloods as those-- BASTARD Some bastards too. KING PHILIP Stand in his face to contradict his claim. CITIZEN Till you compound whose right is worthiest, We for the worthiest hold the right from both. KING JOHN Then God forgive the sin of all those souls That to their everlasting residence, Before the dew of evening fall, shall fleet In dreadful trial of our kingdom's king. KING PHILIP Amen, amen.--Mount, chevaliers! To arms! BASTARD Saint George, that swinged the dragon and e'er since Sits on 's horseback at mine hostess' door, Teach us some fence! [To Austria.] Sirrah, were I at home At your den, sirrah, with your lioness, I would set an ox head to your lion's hide And make a monster of you. AUSTRIA Peace! No more. BASTARD O, tremble, for you hear the lion roar. KING JOHN, [to his officers] Up higher to the plain, where we'll set forth In best appointment all our regiments. BASTARD Speed, then, to take advantage of the field. KING PHILIP, [to his officers] It shall be so, and at the other hill Command the rest to stand. God and our right! [They exit. Citizens remain, above.] [Here, after excursions, enter the Herald of France, with Trumpets, to the gates.] FRENCH HERALD You men of Angiers, open wide your gates, And let young Arthur, Duke of Brittany, in, Who by the hand of France this day hath made Much work for tears in many an English mother, Whose sons lie scattered on the bleeding ground. Many a widow's husband groveling lies Coldly embracing the discolored earth, And victory with little loss doth play Upon the dancing banners of the French, Who are at hand, triumphantly displayed, To enter conquerors and to proclaim Arthur of Brittany England's king and yours. [Enter English Herald, with Trumpet.] ENGLISH HERALD Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells! King John, your king and England's, doth approach, Commander of this hot malicious day. Their armors, that marched hence so silver bright, Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood. There stuck no plume in any English crest That is removed by a staff of France. Our colors do return in those same hands That did display them when we first marched forth, And like a jolly troop of huntsmen come Our lusty English, all with purpled hands, Dyed in the dying slaughter of their foes. Open your gates, and give the victors way. CITIZEN Heralds, from off our towers we might behold From first to last the onset and retire Of both your armies, whose equality By our best eyes cannot be censured. Blood hath bought blood, and blows have answered blows, Strength matched with strength, and power confronted power. Both are alike, and both alike we like. One must prove greatest. While they weigh so even, We hold our town for neither, yet for both. [Enter the two Kings with their Powers (including the Bastard, Queen Eleanor, Blanche, and Salisbury; Austria, and Louis the Dauphin), at several doors.] KING JOHN France, hast thou yet more blood to cast away? Say, shall the current of our right roam on, Whose passage, vexed with thy impediment, Shall leave his native channel and o'erswell With course disturbed even thy confining shores, Unless thou let his silver water keep A peaceful progress to the ocean? KING PHILIP England, thou hast not saved one drop of blood In this hot trial more than we of France, Rather lost more. And by this hand I swear That sways the earth this climate overlooks, Before we will lay down our just-borne arms, We'll put thee down, 'gainst whom these arms we bear, Or add a royal number to the dead, Gracing the scroll that tells of this war's loss With slaughter coupled to the name of kings. BASTARD, [aside] Ha, majesty! How high thy glory towers When the rich blood of kings is set on fire! O, now doth Death line his dead chaps with steel, The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs, And now he feasts, mousing the flesh of men In undetermined differences of kings. Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus? Cry havoc, kings! Back to the stained field, You equal potents, fiery-kindled spirits. Then let confusion of one part confirm The other's peace. Till then, blows, blood, and death! KING JOHN Whose party do the townsmen yet admit? KING PHILIP Speak, citizens, for England. Who's your king? CITIZEN The King of England, when we know the King. KING PHILIP Know him in us, that here hold up his right. KING JOHN In us, that are our own great deputy And bear possession of our person here, Lord of our presence, Angiers, and of you. CITIZEN A greater power than we denies all this, And till it be undoubted, we do lock Our former scruple in our strong-barred gates, Kings of our fear, until our fears resolved Be by some certain king purged and deposed. BASTARD By heaven, these scroyles of Angiers flout you, kings, And stand securely on their battlements As in a theater, whence they gape and point At your industrious scenes and acts of death. Your royal presences, be ruled by me: Do like the mutines of Jerusalem, Be friends awhile, and both conjointly bend Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town. By east and west let France and England mount Their battering cannon charged to the mouths, Till their soul-fearing clamors have brawled down The flinty ribs of this contemptuous city. I'd play incessantly upon these jades, Even till unfenced desolation Leave them as naked as the vulgar air. That done, dissever your united strengths And part your mingled colors once again; Turn face to face and bloody point to point. Then in a moment Fortune shall cull forth Out of one side her happy minion, To whom in favor she shall give the day And kiss him with a glorious victory. How like you this wild counsel, mighty states? Smacks it not something of the policy? KING JOHN Now by the sky that hangs above our heads, I like it well. France, shall we knit our powers And lay this Angiers even with the ground, Then after fight who shall be king of it? BASTARD, [to King Philip] An if thou hast the mettle of a king, Being wronged as we are by this peevish town, Turn thou the mouth of thy artillery, As we will ours, against these saucy walls, And when that we have dashed them to the ground, Why, then, defy each other and pell-mell Make work upon ourselves, for heaven or hell. KING PHILIP Let it be so. Say, where will you assault? KING JOHN We from the west will send destruction Into this city's bosom. AUSTRIA I from the north. KING PHILIP Our thunder from the south Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town. BASTARD, [aside] O, prudent discipline! From north to south, Austria and France shoot in each other's mouth. I'll stir them to it. -- Come, away, away! CITIZEN Hear us, great kings. Vouchsafe awhile to stay, And I shall show you peace and fair-faced league, Win you this city without stroke or wound, Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds That here come sacrifices for the field. Persever not, but hear me, mighty kings. KING JOHN Speak on with favor. We are bent to hear. CITIZEN That daughter there of Spain, the Lady Blanche, Is near to England. Look upon the years Of Louis the Dauphin and that lovely maid. If lusty love should go in quest of beauty, Where should he find it fairer than in Blanche? If zealous love should go in search of virtue, Where should he find it purer than in Blanche? If love ambitious sought a match of birth, Whose veins bound richer blood than Lady Blanche? Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, birth, Is the young Dauphin every way complete. If not complete of, say he is not she, And she again wants nothing, to name want, If want it be not that she is not he. He is the half part of a blessed man, Left to be finished by such as she, And she a fair divided excellence, Whose fullness of perfection lies in him. O, two such silver currents when they join Do glorify the banks that bound them in, And two such shores to two such streams made one, Two such controlling bounds shall you be, kings, To these two princes, if you marry them. This union shall do more than battery can To our fast-closed gates, for at this match, With swifter spleen than powder can enforce, The mouth of passage shall we fling wide ope And give you entrance. But without this match, The sea enraged is not half so deaf, Lions more confident, mountains and rocks More free from motion, no, not Death himself In mortal fury half so peremptory As we to keep this city. [King Philip and Louis the Dauphin walk aside and talk.] BASTARD, [aside] Here's a stay That shakes the rotten carcass of old Death Out of his rags! Here's a large mouth indeed That spits forth death and mountains, rocks and seas; Talks as familiarly of roaring lions As maids of thirteen do of puppy dogs. What cannoneer begot this lusty blood? He speaks plain cannon fire, and smoke, and bounce. He gives the bastinado with his tongue. Our ears are cudgeled. Not a word of his But buffets better than a fist of France. Zounds, I was never so bethumped with words Since I first called my brother's father Dad. QUEEN ELEANOR, [aside to King John] Son, list to this conjunction; make this match. Give with our niece a dowry large enough, For by this knot thou shalt so surely tie Thy now unsured assurance to the crown That yon green boy shall have no sun to ripe The bloom that promiseth a mighty fruit. I see a yielding in the looks of France. Mark how they whisper. Urge them while their souls Are capable of this ambition, Lest zeal, now melted by the windy breath Of soft petitions, pity, and remorse, Cool and congeal again to what it was. CITIZEN Why answer not the double majesties This friendly treaty of our threatened town? KING PHILIP Speak England first, that hath been forward first To speak unto this city. What say you? KING JOHN If that the Dauphin there, thy princely son, Can in this book of beauty read "I love," Her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen. For Anjou and fair Touraine, Maine, Poitiers, And all that we upon this side the sea-- Except this city now by us besieged-- Find liable to our crown and dignity, Shall gild her bridal bed and make her rich In titles, honors, and promotions, As she in beauty, education, blood, Holds hand with any princess of the world. KING PHILIP What sayst thou, boy? Look in the lady's face. DAUPHIN I do, my lord, and in her eye I find A wonder or a wondrous miracle, The shadow of myself formed in her eye, Which, being but the shadow of your son, Becomes a sun and makes your son a shadow. I do protest I never loved myself Till now infixed I beheld myself Drawn in the flattering table of her eye. [He whispers with Blanche.] BASTARD, [aside] "Drawn in the flattering table of her eye"? Hanged in the frowning wrinkle of her brow And quartered in her heart! He doth espy Himself love's traitor. This is pity now, That hanged and drawn and quartered there should be In such a love so vile a lout as he. BLANCHE, [aside to Dauphin] My uncle's will in this respect is mine. If he see aught in you that makes him like, That anything he sees which moves his liking I can with ease translate it to my will. Or if you will, to speak more properly, I will enforce it eas'ly to my love. Further I will not flatter you, my lord, That all I see in you is worthy love, Than this: that nothing do I see in you, Though churlish thoughts themselves should be your judge, That I can find should merit any hate. KING JOHN What say these young ones? What say you, my niece? BLANCHE That she is bound in honor still to do What you in wisdom still vouchsafe to say. KING JOHN Speak then, Prince Dauphin. Can you love this lady? DAUPHIN Nay, ask me if I can refrain from love, For I do love her most unfeignedly. KING JOHN Then do I give Volquessen, Touraine, Maine, Poitiers and Anjou, these five provinces With her to thee, and this addition more: Full thirty thousand marks of English coin.-- Philip of France, if thou be pleased withal, Command thy son and daughter to join hands. KING PHILIP It likes us well.--Young princes, close your hands. AUSTRIA And your lips too, for I am well assured That I did so when I was first assured. [Dauphin and Blanche join hands and kiss.] KING PHILIP Now, citizens of Angiers, ope your gates. Let in that amity which you have made, For at Saint Mary's Chapel presently The rites of marriage shall be solemnized.-- Is not the Lady Constance in this troop? I know she is not, for this match made up Her presence would have interrupted much. Where is she and her son? Tell me, who knows. DAUPHIN She is sad and passionate at your Highness' tent. KING PHILIP And by my faith, this league that we have made Will give her sadness very little cure.-- Brother of England, how may we content This widow lady? In her right we came, Which we, God knows, have turned another way To our own vantage. KING JOHN We will heal up all, For we'll create young Arthur Duke of Brittany And Earl of Richmond, and this rich, fair town We make him lord of.--Call the Lady Constance. Some speedy messenger bid her repair To our solemnity. [Salisbury exits.] I trust we shall, If not fill up the measure of her will, Yet in some measure satisfy her so That we shall stop her exclamation. Go we as well as haste will suffer us To this unlooked-for, unprepared pomp. [All but the Bastard exit.] BASTARD Mad world, mad kings, mad composition! John, to stop Arthur's title in the whole, Hath willingly departed with a part; And France, whose armor conscience buckled on, Whom zeal and charity brought to the field As God's own soldier, rounded in the ear With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil, That broker that still breaks the pate of faith, That daily break-vow, he that wins of all, Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids-- Who having no external thing to lose But the word "maid," cheats the poor maid of that-- That smooth-faced gentleman, tickling Commodity, Commodity, the bias of the world-- The world, who of itself is peised well, Made to run even upon even ground, Till this advantage, this vile-drawing bias, This sway of motion, this Commodity, Makes it take head from all indifferency, From all direction, purpose, course, intent. And this same bias, this Commodity, This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word, Clapped on the outward eye of fickle France, Hath drawn him from his own determined aid, From a resolved and honorable war To a most base and vile-concluded peace. And why rail I on this Commodity? But for because he hath not wooed me yet. Not that I have the power to clutch my hand When his fair angels would salute my palm, But for my hand, as unattempted yet, Like a poor beggar raileth on the rich. Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail And say there is no sin but to be rich; And being rich, my virtue then shall be To say there is no vice but beggary. Since kings break faith upon Commodity, Gain, be my lord, for I will worship thee! [He exits.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Constance, Arthur, and Salisbury.] CONSTANCE, [to Salisbury] Gone to be married? Gone to swear a peace? False blood to false blood joined? Gone to be friends? Shall Louis have Blanche and Blanche those provinces? It is not so. Thou hast misspoke, misheard. Be well advised; tell o'er thy tale again. It cannot be; thou dost but say 'tis so. I trust I may not trust thee, for thy word Is but the vain breath of a common man. Believe me, I do not believe thee, man. I have a king's oath to the contrary. Thou shalt be punished for thus flighting me, For I am sick and capable of fears, Oppressed with wrongs and therefore full of fears, A widow, husbandless, subject to fears, A woman naturally born to fears. And though thou now confess thou didst but jest, With my vexed spirits I cannot take a truce, But they will quake and tremble all this day. What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head? Why dost thou look so sadly on my son? What means that hand upon that breast of thine? Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum, Like a proud river peering o'er his bounds? Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words? Then speak again--not all thy former tale, But this one word, whether thy tale be true. SALISBURY As true as I believe you think them false That give you cause to prove my saying true. CONSTANCE O, if thou teach me to believe this sorrow, Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die, And let belief and life encounter so As doth the fury of two desperate men Which in the very meeting fall and die. Louis marry Blanche?--O, boy, then where art thou?-- France friend with England? What becomes of me? Fellow, be gone. I cannot brook thy sight. This news hath made thee a most ugly man. SALISBURY What other harm have I, good lady, done But spoke the harm that is by others done? CONSTANCE Which harm within itself so heinous is As it makes harmful all that speak of it. ARTHUR I do beseech you, madam, be content. CONSTANCE If thou that bidd'st me be content wert grim, Ugly, and sland'rous to thy mother's womb, Full of unpleasing blots and sightless stains, Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious, Patched with foul moles and eye-offending marks, I would not care; I then would be content, For then I should not love thee; no, nor thou Become thy great birth, nor deserve a crown. But thou art fair, and at thy birth, dear boy, Nature and Fortune joined to make thee great. Of Nature's gifts thou mayst with lilies boast, And with the half-blown rose. But Fortune, O, She is corrupted, changed, and won from thee; Sh' adulterates hourly with thine Uncle John, And with her golden hand hath plucked on France To tread down fair respect of sovereignty, And made his majesty the bawd to theirs. France is a bawd to Fortune and King John, That strumpet Fortune, that usurping John.-- Tell me, thou fellow, is not France forsworn? Envenom him with words, or get thee gone And leave those woes alone which I alone Am bound to underbear. SALISBURY Pardon me, madam, I may not go without you to the Kings. CONSTANCE Thou mayst, thou shalt, I will not go with thee. I will instruct my sorrows to be proud, For grief is proud and makes his owner stoop. [She sits down.] To me and to the state of my great grief Let kings assemble, for my grief 's so great That no supporter but the huge firm Earth Can hold it up. Here I and sorrows sit. Here is my throne; bid kings come bow to it. [Enter King John, hand in hand with King Philip of France, Louis the Dauphin, Blanche, Queen Eleanor, Bastard, Austria, and Attendants.] KING PHILIP, [to Blanche] 'Tis true, fair daughter, and this blessed day Ever in France shall be kept festival. To solemnize this day the glorious sun Stays in his course and plays the alchemist, Turning with splendor of his precious eye The meager cloddy earth to glittering gold. The yearly course that brings this day about Shall never see it but a holy day. CONSTANCE, [rising] A wicked day, and not a holy day! What hath this day deserved? What hath it done That it in golden letters should be set Among the high tides in the calendar? Nay, rather turn this day out of the week, This day of shame, oppression, perjury. Or if it must stand still, let wives with child Pray that their burdens may not fall this day, Lest that their hopes prodigiously be crossed. But on this day let seamen fear no wrack; No bargains break that are not this day made; This day, all things begun come to ill end, Yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change! KING PHILIP By heaven, lady, you shall have no cause To curse the fair proceedings of this day. Have I not pawned to you my majesty? CONSTANCE You have beguiled me with a counterfeit Resembling majesty, which, being touched and tried, Proves valueless. You are forsworn, forsworn. You came in arms to spill mine enemies' blood, But now in arms you strengthen it with yours. The grappling vigor and rough frown of war Is cold in amity and painted peace, And our oppression hath made up this league. Arm, arm, you heavens, against these perjured kings! A widow cries; be husband to me, God! Let not the hours of this ungodly day Wear out the days in peace, but ere sunset Set armed discord 'twixt these perjured kings. Hear me, O, hear me! AUSTRIA Lady Constance, peace. CONSTANCE War, war, no peace! Peace is to me a war. O Limoges, O Austria, thou dost shame That bloody spoil. Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward, Thou little valiant, great in villainy, Thou ever strong upon the stronger side, Thou Fortune's champion, that dost never fight But when her humorous Ladyship is by To teach thee safety. Thou art perjured too, And sooth'st up greatness. What a fool art thou, A ramping fool, to brag and stamp and swear Upon my party. Thou cold-blooded slave, Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side? Been sworn my soldier, bidding me depend Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength? And dost thou now fall over to my foes? Thou wear a lion's hide! Doff it for shame, And hang a calfskin on those recreant limbs. AUSTRIA O, that a man should speak those words to me! BASTARD "And hang a calfskin on those recreant limbs." AUSTRIA Thou dar'st not say so, villain, for thy life! BASTARD "And hang a calfskin on those recreant limbs." KING JOHN We like not this. Thou dost forget thyself. [Enter Pandulph.] KING PHILIP Here comes the holy legate of the Pope. PANDULPH Hail, you anointed deputies of heaven! To thee, King John, my holy errand is. I, Pandulph, of fair Milan cardinal And from Pope Innocent the legate here, Do in his name religiously demand Why thou against the Church, our holy mother, So willfully dost spurn, and force perforce Keep Stephen Langton, chosen Archbishop Of Canterbury, from that Holy See. This, in our foresaid Holy Father's name, Pope Innocent, I do demand of thee. KING JOHN What earthy name to interrogatories Can task the free breath of a sacred king? Thou canst not, cardinal, devise a name So slight, unworthy, and ridiculous To charge me to an answer, as the Pope. Tell him this tale, and from the mouth of England Add thus much more, that no Italian priest Shall tithe or toll in our dominions; But as we under God are supreme head, So, under Him, that great supremacy Where we do reign we will alone uphold Without th' assistance of a mortal hand. So tell the Pope, all reverence set apart To him and his usurped authority. KING PHILIP Brother of England, you blaspheme in this. KING JOHN Though you and all the kings of Christendom Are led so grossly by this meddling priest, Dreading the curse that money may buy out, And by the merit of vile gold, dross, dust, Purchase corrupted pardon of a man Who in that sale sells pardon from himself, Though you and all the rest, so grossly led, This juggling witchcraft with revenue cherish, Yet I alone, alone do me oppose Against the Pope, and count his friends my foes. PANDULPH Then, by the lawful power that I have, Thou shalt stand cursed and excommunicate; And blessed shall he be that doth revolt From his allegiance to an heretic; And meritorious shall that hand be called, Canonized and worshiped as a saint, That takes away by any secret course Thy hateful life. CONSTANCE O, lawful let it be That I have room with Rome to curse awhile! Good father cardinal, cry thou "Amen" To my keen curses, for without my wrong There is no tongue hath power to curse him right. PANDULPH There's law and warrant, lady, for my curse. CONSTANCE And for mine, too. When law can do no right, Let it be lawful that law bar no wrong. Law cannot give my child his kingdom here, For he that holds his kingdom holds the law. Therefore, since law itself is perfect wrong, How can the law forbid my tongue to curse? PANDULPH Philip of France, on peril of a curse, Let go the hand of that arch-heretic, And raise the power of France upon his head Unless he do submit himself to Rome. QUEEN ELEANOR Look'st thou pale, France? Do not let go thy hand. CONSTANCE Look to that, devil, lest that France repent And by disjoining hands, hell lose a soul. AUSTRIA King Philip, listen to the Cardinal. BASTARD And hang a calfskin on his recreant limbs. AUSTRIA Well, ruffian, I must pocket up these wrongs, Because-- BASTARD Your breeches best may carry them. KING JOHN Philip, what sayst thou to the Cardinal? CONSTANCE What should he say, but as the Cardinal? DAUPHIN Bethink you, father, for the difference Is purchase of a heavy curse from Rome, Or the light loss of England for a friend. Forgo the easier. BLANCHE That's the curse of Rome. CONSTANCE O Louis, stand fast! The devil tempts thee here In likeness of a new untrimmed bride. BLANCHE The Lady Constance speaks not from her faith, But from her need. CONSTANCE, [to King Philip] O, if thou grant my need, Which only lives but by the death of faith, That need must needs infer this principle: That faith would live again by death of need. O, then tread down my need, and faith mounts up; Keep my need up, and faith is trodden down. KING JOHN The King is moved, and answers not to this. CONSTANCE, [to King Philip] O, be removed from him, and answer well! AUSTRIA Do so, King Philip. Hang no more in doubt. BASTARD Hang nothing but a calfskin, most sweet lout. KING PHILIP I am perplexed and know not what to say. PANDULPH What canst thou say but will perplex thee more, If thou stand excommunicate and cursed? KING PHILIP Good reverend father, make my person yours, And tell me how you would bestow yourself. This royal hand and mine are newly knit, And the conjunction of our inward souls Married, in league, coupled, and linked together With all religious strength of sacred vows. The latest breath that gave the sound of words Was deep-sworn faith, peace, amity, true love Between our kingdoms and our royal selves; And even before this truce, but new before, No longer than we well could wash our hands To clap this royal bargain up of peace, God knows they were besmeared and overstained With slaughter's pencil, where revenge did paint The fearful difference of incensed kings. And shall these hands, so lately purged of blood, So newly joined in love, so strong in both, Unyoke this seizure and this kind regreet? Play fast and loose with faith? So jest with heaven? Make such unconstant children of ourselves As now again to snatch our palm from palm, Unswear faith sworn, and on the marriage bed Of smiling peace to march a bloody host And make a riot on the gentle brow Of true sincerity? O holy sir, My reverend father, let it not be so! Out of your grace, devise, ordain, impose Some gentle order, and then we shall be blest To do your pleasure and continue friends. PANDULPH All form is formless, order orderless, Save what is opposite to England's love. Therefore to arms! Be champion of our Church, Or let the Church, our mother, breathe her curse, A mother's curse, on her revolting son. France, thou mayst hold a serpent by the tongue, A chafed lion by the mortal paw, A fasting tiger safer by the tooth, Than keep in peace that hand which thou dost hold. KING PHILIP I may disjoin my hand, but not my faith. PANDULPH So mak'st thou faith an enemy to faith, And like a civil war sett'st oath to oath, Thy tongue against thy tongue. O, let thy vow First made to God, first be to God performed, That is, to be the champion of our Church! What since thou swor'st is sworn against thyself And may not be performed by thyself, For that which thou hast sworn to do amiss Is not amiss when it is truly done; And being not done where doing tends to ill, The truth is then most done not doing it. The better act of purposes mistook Is to mistake again; though indirect, Yet indirection thereby grows direct, And falsehood falsehood cures, as fire cools fire Within the scorched veins of one new-burned. It is religion that doth make vows kept, But thou hast sworn against religion By what thou swear'st against the thing thou swear'st, And mak'st an oath the surety for thy truth Against an oath. The truth thou art unsure To swear swears only not to be forsworn, Else what a mockery should it be to swear? But thou dost swear only to be forsworn, And most forsworn to keep what thou dost swear. Therefore thy later vows against thy first Is in thyself rebellion to thyself. And better conquest never canst thou make Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts Against these giddy loose suggestions, Upon which better part our prayers come in, If thou vouchsafe them. But if not, then know The peril of our curses light on thee So heavy as thou shalt not shake them off, But in despair die under their black weight. AUSTRIA Rebellion, flat rebellion! BASTARD Will 't not be? Will not a calfskin stop that mouth of thine? DAUPHIN Father, to arms! BLANCHE Upon thy wedding day? Against the blood that thou hast married? What, shall our feast be kept with slaughtered men? Shall braying trumpets and loud churlish drums, Clamors of hell, be measures to our pomp? [She kneels.] O husband, hear me! Ay, alack, how new Is "husband" in my mouth! Even for that name, Which till this time my tongue did ne'er pronounce, Upon my knee I beg, go not to arms Against mine uncle. CONSTANCE, [kneeling] O, upon my knee Made hard with kneeling, I do pray to thee, Thou virtuous Dauphin, alter not the doom Forethought by heaven! BLANCHE, [to Dauphin] Now shall I see thy love. What motive may Be stronger with thee than the name of wife? CONSTANCE That which upholdeth him that thee upholds, His honor.--O, thine honor, Louis, thine honor! DAUPHIN, [to King Philip] I muse your Majesty doth seem so cold, When such profound respects do pull you on. PANDULPH I will denounce a curse upon his head. KING PHILIP, [dropping King John's hand] Thou shalt not need.--England, I will fall from thee. CONSTANCE, [rising] O, fair return of banished majesty! QUEEN ELEANOR O, foul revolt of French inconstancy! KING JOHN France, thou shalt rue this hour within this hour. BASTARD Old Time the clock-setter, that bald sexton Time, Is it as he will? Well, then, France shall rue. BLANCHE, [rising] The sun's o'ercast with blood. Fair day, adieu. Which is the side that I must go withal? I am with both, each army hath a hand, And in their rage, I having hold of both, They whirl asunder and dismember me. Husband, I cannot pray that thou mayst win.-- Uncle, I needs must pray that thou mayst lose.-- Father, I may not wish the fortune thine.-- Grandam, I will not wish thy wishes thrive. Whoever wins, on that side shall I lose. Assured loss before the match be played. DAUPHIN Lady, with me, with me thy fortune lies. BLANCHE There where my fortune lives, there my life dies. KING JOHN, [to Bastard] Cousin, go draw our puissance together. [Bastard exits.] France, I am burned up with inflaming wrath, A rage whose heat hath this condition, That nothing can allay, nothing but blood-- The blood, and dearest-valued blood, of France. KING PHILIP Thy rage shall burn thee up, and thou shalt turn To ashes ere our blood shall quench that fire. Look to thyself. Thou art in jeopardy. KING JOHN No more than he that threats.--To arms let's hie! [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Alarums, excursions. Enter Bastard with Austria's head.] BASTARD Now, by my life, this day grows wondrous hot. Some airy devil hovers in the sky And pours down mischief. Austria's head lie there, While Philip breathes. [Enter King John, Arthur, Hubert.] KING JOHN Hubert, keep this boy.--Philip, make up. My mother is assailed in our tent And ta'en, I fear. BASTARD My lord, I rescued her. Her Highness is in safety, fear you not. But on, my liege, for very little pains Will bring this labor to an happy end. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Alarums, excursions, retreat. Enter King John, Queen Eleanor, Arthur, Bastard, Hubert, Lords.] KING JOHN, [to Queen Eleanor] So shall it be. Your Grace shall stay behind So strongly guarded. [To Arthur.] Cousin, look not sad. Thy grandam loves thee, and thy uncle will As dear be to thee as thy father was. ARTHUR O, this will make my mother die with grief! KING JOHN, [to Bastard] Cousin, away for England! Haste before, And ere our coining see thou shake the bags Of hoarding abbots; imprisoned angels Set at liberty. The fat ribs of peace Must by the hungry now be fed upon. Use our commission in his utmost force. BASTARD Bell, book, and candle shall not drive me back When gold and silver becks me to come on. I leave your Highness.--Grandam, I will pray, If ever I remember to be holy, For your fair safety. So I kiss your hand. QUEEN ELEANOR Farewell, gentle cousin. KING JOHN Coz, farewell. [Bastard exits.] QUEEN ELEANOR, [to Arthur] Come hither, little kinsman. Hark, a word. [They walk aside.] KING JOHN Come hither, Hubert. [He takes Hubert aside.] O, my gentle Hubert, We owe thee much. Within this wall of flesh There is a soul counts thee her creditor, And with advantage means to pay thy love. And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath Lives in this bosom dearly cherished. Give me thy hand. I had a thing to say, But I will fit it with some better tune. By heaven, Hubert, I am almost ashamed To say what good respect I have of thee. HUBERT I am much bounden to your Majesty. KING JOHN Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet, But thou shalt have. And, creep time ne'er so slow, Yet it shall come for me to do thee good. I had a thing to say--but let it go. The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day, Attended with the pleasures of the world, Is all too wanton and too full of gauds To give me audience. If the midnight bell Did with his iron tongue and brazen mouth Sound on into the drowsy race of night; If this same were a churchyard where we stand, And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs; Or if that surly spirit, melancholy, Had baked thy blood and made it heavy, thick, Which else runs tickling up and down the veins, Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes And strain their cheeks to idle merriment, A passion hateful to my purposes; Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes, Hear me without thine ears, and make reply Without a tongue, using conceit alone, Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words; Then, in despite of brooded watchful day, I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts. But, ah, I will not. Yet I love thee well, And by my troth I think thou lov'st me well. HUBERT So well that what you bid me undertake, Though that my death were adjunct to my act, By heaven, I would do it. KING JOHN Do not I know thou wouldst? Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye On yon young boy. I'll tell thee what, my friend, He is a very serpent in my way, And wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread, He lies before me. Dost thou understand me? Thou art his keeper. HUBERT And I'll keep him so That he shall not offend your Majesty. KING JOHN Death. HUBERT My lord? KING JOHN A grave. HUBERT He shall not live. KING JOHN Enough. I could be merry now. Hubert, I love thee. Well, I'll not say what I intend for thee. Remember. [He turns to Queen Eleanor.] Madam, fare you well. I'll send those powers o'er to your Majesty. QUEEN ELEANOR My blessing go with thee. KING JOHN, [to Arthur] For England, cousin, go. Hubert shall be your man, attend on you With all true duty.--On toward Calais, ho! [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter King Philip of France,Louis the Dauphin, Pandulph, Attendants.] KING PHILIP So, by a roaring tempest on the flood, A whole armada of convicted sail Is scattered and disjoined from fellowship. PANDULPH Courage and comfort. All shall yet go well. KING PHILIP What can go well when we have run so ill? Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers lost? Arthur ta'en prisoner? Divers dear friends slain? And bloody England into England gone, O'erbearing interruption, spite of France? DAUPHIN What he hath won, that hath he fortified. So hot a speed, with such advice disposed, Such temperate order in so fierce a cause, Doth want example. Who hath read or heard Of any kindred action like to this? KING PHILIP Well could I bear that England had this praise, So we could find some pattern of our shame. [Enter Constance, with her hair unbound.] Look who comes here! A grave unto a soul, Holding th' eternal spirit against her will In the vile prison of afflicted breath.-- I prithee, lady, go away with me. CONSTANCE Lo, now, now see the issue of your peace! KING PHILIP Patience, good lady. Comfort, gentle Constance. CONSTANCE No, I defy all counsel, all redress, But that which ends all counsel, true redress. Death, death, O amiable, lovely death, Thou odoriferous stench, sound rottenness, Arise forth from the couch of lasting night, Thou hate and terror to prosperity, And I will kiss thy detestable bones And put my eyeballs in thy vaulty brows, And ring these fingers with thy household worms, And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust, And be a carrion monster like thyself. Come, grin on me, and I will think thou smil'st, And buss thee as thy wife. Misery's love, O, come to me! KING PHILIP O fair affliction, peace! CONSTANCE No, no, I will not, having breath to cry. O, that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth! Then with a passion would I shake the world And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice, Which scorns a modern invocation. PANDULPH Lady, you utter madness and not sorrow. CONSTANCE Thou art not holy to belie me so. I am not mad. This hair I tear is mine; My name is Constance; I was Geoffrey's wife; Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost. I am not mad; I would to heaven I were, For then 'tis like I should forget myself. O, if I could, what grief should I forget! Preach some philosophy to make me mad, And thou shalt be canonized, cardinal. For, being not mad but sensible of grief, My reasonable part produces reason How I may be delivered of these woes, And teaches me to kill or hang myself. If I were mad, I should forget my son, Or madly think a babe of clouts were he. I am not mad. Too well, too well I feel The different plague of each calamity. KING PHILIP Bind up those tresses.--O, what love I note In the fair multitude of those her hairs; Where but by chance a silver drop hath fall'n, Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends Do glue themselves in sociable grief, Like true, inseparable, faithful loves, Sticking together in calamity. CONSTANCE To England, if you will. KING PHILIP Bind up your hairs. CONSTANCE Yes, that I will. And wherefore will I do it? I tore them from their bonds and cried aloud "O, that these hands could so redeem my son, As they have given these hairs their liberty!" But now I envy at their liberty, And will again commit them to their bonds, Because my poor child is a prisoner. [She binds up her hair.] And father cardinal, I have heard you say That we shall see and know our friends in heaven. If that be true, I shall see my boy again; For since the birth of Cain, the first male child, To him that did but yesterday suspire, There was not such a gracious creature born. But now will canker sorrow eat my bud And chase the native beauty from his cheek, And he will look as hollow as a ghost, As dim and meager as an ague's fit, And so he'll die; and, rising so again, When I shall meet him in the court of heaven I shall not know him. Therefore never, never Must I behold my pretty Arthur more. PANDULPH You hold too heinous a respect of grief. CONSTANCE He talks to me that never had a son. KING PHILIP You are as fond of grief as of your child. CONSTANCE Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief? Fare you well. Had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do. [She unbinds her hair.] I will not keep this form upon my head When there is such disorder in my wit. O Lord! My boy, my Arthur, my fair son, My life, my joy, my food, my all the world, My widow-comfort and my sorrows' cure! [She exits.] KING PHILIP I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her. [He exits, with Attendants.] DAUPHIN There's nothing in this world can make me joy. Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man; And bitter shame hath spoiled the sweet world's taste, That it yields naught but shame and bitterness. PANDULPH Before the curing of a strong disease, Even in the instant of repair and health, The fit is strongest. Evils that take leave On their departure most of all show evil. What have you lost by losing of this day? DAUPHIN All days of glory, joy, and happiness. PANDULPH If you had won it, certainly you had. No, no. When Fortune means to men most good, She looks upon them with a threat'ning eye. 'Tis strange to think how much King John hath lost In this which he accounts so clearly won. Are not you grieved that Arthur is his prisoner? DAUPHIN As heartily as he is glad he hath him. PANDULPH Your mind is all as youthful as your blood. Now hear me speak with a prophetic spirit. For even the breath of what I mean to speak Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub, Out of the path which shall directly lead Thy foot to England's throne. And therefore mark: John hath seized Arthur, and it cannot be That, whiles warm life plays in that infant's veins, The misplaced John should entertain an hour, One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest. A scepter snatched with an unruly hand Must be as boisterously maintained as gained. And he that stands upon a slipp'ry place Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up. That John may stand, then Arthur needs must fall. So be it, for it cannot be but so. DAUPHIN But what shall I gain by young Arthur's fall? PANDULPH You, in the right of Lady Blanche your wife, May then make all the claim that Arthur did. DAUPHIN And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did. PANDULPH How green you are and fresh in this old world! John lays you plots. The times conspire with you, For he that steeps his safety in true blood Shall find but bloody safety, and untrue. This act so evilly borne shall cool the hearts Of all his people and freeze up their zeal, That none so small advantage shall step forth To check his reign but they will cherish it. No natural exhalation in the sky, No scope of nature, no distempered day, No common wind, no customed event, But they will pluck away his natural cause And call them meteors, prodigies, and signs, Abortives, presages, and tongues of heaven, Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John. DAUPHIN Maybe he will not touch young Arthur's life, But hold himself safe in his prisonment. PANDULPH O, sir, when he shall hear of your approach, If that young Arthur be not gone already, Even at that news he dies; and then the hearts Of all his people shall revolt from him And kiss the lips of unacquainted change, And pick strong matter of revolt and wrath Out of the bloody fingers' ends of John. Methinks I see this hurly all on foot; And, O, what better matter breeds for you Than I have named! The bastard Faulconbridge Is now in England ransacking the Church, Offending charity. If but a dozen French Were there in arms, they would be as a call To train ten thousand English to their side, Or as a little snow, tumbled about, Anon becomes a mountain. O noble dauphin, Go with me to the King. 'Tis wonderful What may be wrought out of their discontent, Now that their souls are topful of offense. For England, go. I will whet on the King. DAUPHIN Strong reasons makes strange actions. Let us go. If you say ay, the King will not say no. [They exit.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Hubert and Executioners, with irons and rope.] HUBERT Heat me these irons hot, and look thou stand Within the arras. When I strike my foot Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth And bind the boy which you shall find with me Fast to the chair. Be heedful. Hence, and watch. EXECUTIONER I hope your warrant will bear out the deed. HUBERT Uncleanly scruples fear not you. Look to 't. [Executioners exit.] Young lad, come forth. I have to say with you. [Enter Arthur.] ARTHUR Good morrow, Hubert. HUBERT Good morrow, little prince. ARTHUR As little prince, having so great a title To be more prince, as may be. You are sad. HUBERT Indeed, I have been merrier. ARTHUR Mercy on me! Methinks nobody should be sad but I. Yet I remember, when I was in France, Young gentlemen would be as sad as night Only for wantonness. By my christendom, So I were out of prison and kept sheep, I should be as merry as the day is long. And so I would be here but that I doubt My uncle practices more harm to me. He is afraid of me, and I of him. Is it my fault that I was Geoffrey's son? No, indeed, is 't not. And I would to heaven I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert. HUBERT, [aside] If I talk to him, with his innocent prate He will awake my mercy, which lies dead. Therefore I will be sudden and dispatch. ARTHUR Are you sick, Hubert? You look pale today. In sooth, I would you were a little sick That I might sit all night and watch with you. I warrant I love you more than you do me. HUBERT, [aside] His words do take possession of my bosom. [He shows Arthur a paper.] Read here, young Arthur. [(Aside.)] How now, foolish rheum? Turning dispiteous torture out of door? I must be brief lest resolution drop Out at mine eyes in tender womanish tears.-- Can you not read it? Is it not fair writ? ARTHUR Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect. Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes? HUBERT Young boy, I must. ARTHUR And will you? HUBERT And I will. ARTHUR Have you the heart? When your head did but ache, I knit my handkercher about your brows-- The best I had, a princess wrought it me-- And I did never ask it you again; And with my hand at midnight held your head, And like the watchful minutes to the hour Still and anon cheered up the heavy time, Saying "What lack you?" and "Where lies your grief?" Or "What good love may I perform for you?" Many a poor man's son would have lien still And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you; But you at your sick service had a prince. Nay, you may think my love was crafty love, And call it cunning. Do, an if you will. If heaven be pleased that you must use me ill, Why then you must. Will you put out mine eyes-- These eyes that never did nor never shall So much as frown on you? HUBERT I have sworn to do it. And with hot irons must I burn them out. ARTHUR Ah, none but in this Iron Age would do it. The iron of itself, though heat red-hot, Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears And quench this fiery indignation Even in the matter of mine innocence; Nay, after that, consume away in rust But for containing fire to harm mine eye. Are you more stubborn-hard than hammered iron? An if an angel should have come to me And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes, I would not have believed him. No tongue but Hubert's. HUBERT [stamps his foot and calls] Come forth. [Enter Executioners with ropes, a heated iron, and a brazier of burning coals.] Do as I bid you do. ARTHUR O, save me, Hubert, save me! My eyes are out Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men. HUBERT Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here. [He takes the iron.] ARTHUR Alas, what need you be so boist'rous-rough? I will not struggle; I will stand stone-still. For God's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound! Nay, hear me, Hubert! Drive these men away, And I will sit as quiet as a lamb. I will not stir nor wince nor speak a word Nor look upon the iron angerly. Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you, Whatever torment you do put me to. HUBERT, [to Executioners] Go stand within. Let me alone with him. EXECUTIONER I am best pleased to be from such a deed. [Executioners exit.] ARTHUR Alas, I then have chid away my friend! He hath a stern look but a gentle heart. Let him come back, that his compassion may Give life to yours. HUBERT Come, boy, prepare yourself. ARTHUR Is there no remedy? HUBERT None but to lose your eyes. ARTHUR O God, that there were but a mote in yours, A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair, Any annoyance in that precious sense. Then, feeling what small things are boisterous there, Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. HUBERT Is this your promise? Go to, hold your tongue. ARTHUR Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes. Let me not hold my tongue. Let me not, Hubert, Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue, So I may keep mine eyes. O, spare mine eyes, Though to no use but still to look on you. [He seizes the iron.] Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold, And would not harm me. HUBERT, [taking back the iron] I can heat it, boy. ARTHUR No, in good sooth. The fire is dead with grief, Being create for comfort, to be used In undeserved extremes. See else yourself. There is no malice in this burning coal. The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out And strewed repentant ashes on his head. HUBERT But with my breath I can revive it, boy. ARTHUR An if you do, you will but make it blush And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert. Nay, it perchance will sparkle in your eyes, And, like a dog that is compelled to fight, Snatch at his master that doth tar him on. All things that you should use to do me wrong Deny their office. Only you do lack That mercy which fierce fire and iron extends, Creatures of note for mercy-lacking uses. HUBERT Well, see to live. I will not touch thine eye For all the treasure that thine uncle owes. Yet am I sworn, and I did purpose, boy, With this same very iron to burn them out. ARTHUR O, now you look like Hubert. All this while You were disguised. HUBERT Peace. No more. Adieu. Your uncle must not know but you are dead. I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports. And, pretty child, sleep doubtless and secure That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world, Will not offend thee. ARTHUR O heaven! I thank you, Hubert. HUBERT Silence. No more. Go closely in with me. Much danger do I undergo for thee. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter King John, Pembroke, Salisbury, and other Lords. King John ascends the throne.] KING JOHN Here once again we sit, once again crowned And looked upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes. PEMBROKE This "once again," but that your Highness pleased, Was once superfluous. You were crowned before, And that high royalty was ne'er plucked off, The faiths of men ne'er stained with revolt; Fresh expectation troubled not the land With any longed-for change or better state. SALISBURY Therefore, to be possessed with double pomp, To guard a title that was rich before, To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful and ridiculous excess. PEMBROKE But that your royal pleasure must be done, This act is as an ancient tale new told, And, in the last repeating, troublesome, Being urged at a time unseasonable. SALISBURY In this the antique and well-noted face Of plain old form is much disfigured, And like a shifted wind unto a sail, It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about, Startles and frights consideration, Makes sound opinion sick and truth suspected For putting on so new a fashioned robe. PEMBROKE When workmen strive to do better than well, They do confound their skill in covetousness, And oftentimes excusing of a fault Doth make the fault the worse by th' excuse, As patches set upon a little breach Discredit more in hiding of the fault Than did the fault before it was so patched. SALISBURY To this effect, before you were new-crowned, We breathed our counsel; but it pleased your Highness To overbear it, and we are all well pleased, Since all and every part of what we would Doth make a stand at what your Highness will. KING JOHN Some reasons of this double coronation I have possessed you with, and think them strong; And more, more strong, when lesser is my fear, I shall endue you with. Meantime, but ask What you would have reformed that is not well, And well shall you perceive how willingly I will both hear and grant you your requests. PEMBROKE Then I, as one that am the tongue of these To sound the purposes of all their hearts, Both for myself and them, but chief of all Your safety, for the which myself and them Bend their best studies, heartily request Th' enfranchisement of Arthur, whose restraint Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent To break into this dangerous argument: If what in rest you have in right you hold, Why then your fears, which, as they say, attend The steps of wrong, should move you to mew up Your tender kinsman and to choke his days With barbarous ignorance and deny his youth The rich advantage of good exercise. That the time's enemies may not have this To grace occasions, let it be our suit That you have bid us ask, his liberty, Which for our goods we do no further ask Than whereupon our weal, on you depending, Counts it your weal he have his liberty. KING JOHN Let it be so. I do commit his youth To your direction. [Enter Hubert.] Hubert, what news with you? [King John and Hubert talk aside.] PEMBROKE This is the man should do the bloody deed. He showed his warrant to a friend of mine. The image of a wicked heinous fault Lives in his eye. That close aspect of his Doth show the mood of a much troubled breast, And I do fearfully believe 'tis done What we so feared he had a charge to do. SALISBURY The color of the King doth come and go Between his purpose and his conscience, Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles set. His passion is so ripe it needs must break. PEMBROKE And when it breaks, I fear will issue thence The foul corruption of a sweet child's death. KING JOHN, [coming forward with Hubert] We cannot hold mortality's strong hand.-- Good lords, although my will to give is living, The suit which you demand is gone and dead. He tells us Arthur is deceased tonight. SALISBURY Indeed, we feared his sickness was past cure. PEMBROKE Indeed, we heard how near his death he was Before the child himself felt he was sick. This must be answered either here or hence. KING JOHN Why do you bend such solemn brows on me? Think you I bear the shears of destiny? Have I commandment on the pulse of life? SALISBURY It is apparent foul play, and 'tis shame That greatness should so grossly offer it. So thrive it in your game, and so farewell. PEMBROKE Stay yet, Lord Salisbury. I'll go with thee And find th' inheritance of this poor child, His little kingdom of a forced grave. That blood which owed the breadth of all this isle, Three foot of it doth hold. Bad world the while! This must not be thus borne; this will break out To all our sorrows, and ere long, I doubt. [Pembroke, Salisbury, and other Lords exit.] KING JOHN They burn in indignation. I repent. There is no sure foundation set on blood, No certain life achieved by others' death. [Enter Messenger.] A fearful eye thou hast. Where is that blood That I have seen inhabit in those cheeks? So foul a sky clears not without a storm. Pour down thy weather: how goes all in France? MESSENGER From France to England. Never such a power For any foreign preparation Was levied in the body of a land. The copy of your speed is learned by them, For when you should be told they do prepare, The tidings comes that they are all arrived. KING JOHN O, where hath our intelligence been drunk? Where hath it slept? Where is my mother's care, That such an army could be drawn in France And she not hear of it? MESSENGER My liege, her ear Is stopped with dust. The first of April died Your noble mother. And as I hear, my lord, The Lady Constance in a frenzy died Three days before. But this from rumor's tongue I idly heard. If true or false, I know not. KING JOHN, [aside] Withhold thy speed, dreadful occasion! O, make a league with me till I have pleased My discontented peers. What? Mother dead? How wildly then walks my estate in France!-- Under whose conduct came those powers of France That thou for truth giv'st out are landed here? MESSENGER Under the Dauphin. KING JOHN Thou hast made me giddy With these ill tidings. [Enter Bastard and Peter of Pomfret.] [To Bastard.] Now, what says the world To your proceedings? Do not seek to stuff My head with more ill news, for it is full. BASTARD But if you be afeard to hear the worst, Then let the worst, unheard, fall on your head. KING JOHN Bear with me, cousin, for I was amazed Under the tide, but now I breathe again Aloft the flood and can give audience To any tongue, speak it of what it will. BASTARD How I have sped among the clergymen The sums I have collected shall express. But as I traveled hither through the land, I find the people strangely fantasied, Possessed with rumors, full of idle dreams, Not knowing what they fear, but full of fear. And here's a prophet that I brought with me From forth the streets of Pomfret, whom I found With many hundreds treading on his heels, To whom he sung in rude harsh-sounding rhymes That ere the next Ascension Day at noon, Your Highness should deliver up your crown. KING JOHN, [to Peter] Thou idle dreamer, wherefore didst thou so? PETER Foreknowing that the truth will fall out so. KING JOHN Hubert, away with him! Imprison him. And on that day at noon, whereon he says I shall yield up my crown, let him be hanged. Deliver him to safety and return, For I must use thee. [Hubert and Peter exit.] O my gentle cousin, Hear'st thou the news abroad, who are arrived? BASTARD The French, my lord. Men's mouths are full of it. Besides, I met Lord Bigot and Lord Salisbury With eyes as red as new-enkindled fire, And others more, going to seek the grave Of Arthur, whom they say is killed tonight On your suggestion. KING JOHN Gentle kinsman, go And thrust thyself into their companies. I have a way to win their loves again. Bring them before me. BASTARD I will seek them out. KING JOHN Nay, but make haste, the better foot before! O, let me have no subject enemies When adverse foreigners affright my towns With dreadful pomp of stout invasion. Be Mercury, set feathers to thy heels, And fly like thought from them to me again. BASTARD The spirit of the time shall teach me speed. [He exits.] KING JOHN Spoke like a sprightful noble gentleman. [To Messenger.] Go after him, for he perhaps shall need Some messenger betwixt me and the peers, And be thou he. MESSENGER With all my heart, my liege. [Messenger exits.] KING JOHN My mother dead! [Enter Hubert.] HUBERT My lord, they say five moons were seen tonight-- Four fixed, and the fifth did whirl about The other four in wondrous motion. KING JOHN Five moons! HUBERT Old men and beldams in the streets Do prophesy upon it dangerously. Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths, And when they talk of him, they shake their heads And whisper one another in the ear, And he that speaks doth grip the hearer's wrist, Whilst he that hears makes fearful action With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes. I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus, The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool, With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news, Who with his shears and measure in his hand, Standing on slippers which his nimble haste Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet, Told of a many thousand warlike French That were embattled and ranked in Kent. Another lean, unwashed artificer Cuts off his tale and talks of Arthur's death. KING JOHN Why seek'st thou to possess me with these fears? Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur's death? Thy hand hath murdered him. I had a mighty cause To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him. HUBERT No had, my lord! Why, did you not provoke me? KING JOHN It is the curse of kings to be attended By slaves that take their humors for a warrant To break within the bloody house of life, And on the winking of authority To understand a law, to know the meaning Of dangerous majesty, when perchance it frowns More upon humor than advised respect. HUBERT, [showing a paper] Here is your hand and seal for what I did. KING JOHN O, when the last accompt twixt heaven and Earth Is to be made, then shall this hand and seal Witness against us to damnation! How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds Make deeds ill done! Hadst not thou been by, A fellow by the hand of nature marked, Quoted, and signed to do a deed of shame, This murder had not come into my mind. But taking note of thy abhorred aspect, Finding thee fit for bloody villainy, Apt, liable to be employed in danger, I faintly broke with thee of Arthur's death; And thou, to be endeared to a king, Made it no conscience to destroy a prince. HUBERT My lord-- KING JOHN Hadst thou but shook thy head or made a pause When I spake darkly what I purposed, Or turned an eye of doubt upon my face, As bid me tell my tale in express words, Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break off, And those thy fears might have wrought fears in me. But thou didst understand me by my signs And didst in signs again parley with sin, Yea, without stop didst let thy heart consent And consequently thy rude hand to act The deed which both our tongues held vile to name. Out of my sight, and never see me more. My nobles leave me, and my state is braved, Even at my gates, with ranks of foreign powers. Nay, in the body of this fleshly land, This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath, Hostility and civil tumult reigns Between my conscience and my cousin's death. HUBERT Arm you against your other enemies. I'll make a peace between your soul and you. Young Arthur is alive. This hand of mine Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand, Not painted with the crimson spots of blood. Within this bosom never entered yet The dreadful motion of a murderous thought, And you have slandered nature in my form, Which, howsoever rude exteriorly, Is yet the cover of a fairer mind Than to be butcher of an innocent child. KING JOHN Doth Arthur live? O, haste thee to the peers, Throw this report on their incensed rage, And make them tame to their obedience. Forgive the comment that my passion made Upon thy feature, for my rage was blind, And foul imaginary eyes of blood Presented thee more hideous than thou art. O, answer not, but to my closet bring The angry lords with all expedient haste. I conjure thee but slowly; run more fast. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Arthur on the walls, dressed as a shipboy.] ARTHUR The wall is high, and yet will I leap down. Good ground, be pitiful and hurt me not. There's few or none do know me. If they did, This shipboy's semblance hath disguised me quite. I am afraid, and yet I'll venture it. If I get down and do not break my limbs, I'll find a thousand shifts to get away. As good to die and go as die and stay. [He jumps.] O me, my uncle's spirit is in these stones. Heaven take my soul, and England keep my bones. [He dies.] [Enter Pembroke, Salisbury with a letter, and Bigot.] SALISBURY Lords, I will meet him at Saint Edmundsbury; It is our safety, and we must embrace This gentle offer of the perilous time. PEMBROKE Who brought that letter from the Cardinal? SALISBURY The Count Melun, a noble lord of France, Whose private with me of the Dauphin's love Is much more general than these lines import. BIGOT Tomorrow morning let us meet him, then. SALISBURY Or rather then set forward, for 'twill be Two long days' journey, lords, or ere we meet. [Enter Bastard.] BASTARD Once more today well met, distempered lords. The King by me requests your presence straight. SALISBURY The King hath dispossessed himself of us. We will not line his thin bestained cloak With our pure honors, nor attend the foot That leaves the print of blood where'er it walks. Return, and tell him so. We know the worst. BASTARD Whate'er you think, good words I think were best. SALISBURY Our griefs and not our manners reason now. BASTARD But there is little reason in your grief. Therefore 'twere reason you had manners now. PEMBROKE Sir, sir, impatience hath his privilege. BASTARD 'Tis true, to hurt his master, no man's else. SALISBURY This is the prison. [He sees Arthur's body.] What is he lies here? PEMBROKE O Death, made proud with pure and princely beauty! The Earth had not a hole to hide this deed. SALISBURY Murder, as hating what himself hath done, Doth lay it open to urge on revenge. BIGOT Or when he doomed this beauty to a grave, Found it too precious-princely for a grave. SALISBURY, [to Bastard] Sir Richard, what think you? You have beheld. Or have you read or heard, or could you think, Or do you almost think, although you see, That you do see? Could thought, without this object, Form such another? This is the very top, The height, the crest, or crest unto the crest, Of murder's arms. This is the bloodiest shame, The wildest savagery, the vilest stroke That ever wall-eyed wrath or staring rage Presented to the tears of soft remorse. PEMBROKE All murders past do stand excused in this. And this, so sole and so unmatchable, Shall give a holiness, a purity, To the yet unbegotten sin of times And prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest, Exampled by this heinous spectacle. BASTARD It is a damned and a bloody work, The graceless action of a heavy hand, If that it be the work of any hand. SALISBURY If that it be the work of any hand? We had a kind of light what would ensue. It is the shameful work of Hubert's hand, The practice and the purpose of the King, From whose obedience I forbid my soul, Kneeling before this ruin of sweet life [He kneels.] And breathing to his breathless excellence The incense of a vow, a holy vow: Never to taste the pleasures of the world, Never to be infected with delight, Nor conversant with ease and idleness, Till I have set a glory to this hand By giving it the worship of revenge. PEMBROKE, BIGOT, [kneeling] Our souls religiously confirm thy words. [They rise.] [Enter Hubert.] HUBERT Lords, I am hot with haste in seeking you. Arthur doth live; the King hath sent for you. SALISBURY O, he is bold and blushes not at death!-- Avaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone! HUBERT I am no villain. SALISBURY, [drawing his sword] Must I rob the law? BASTARD Your sword is bright, sir. Put it up again. SALISBURY Not till I sheathe it in a murderer's skin. HUBERT Stand back, Lord Salisbury, stand back, I say. By heaven, I think my sword's as sharp as yours. [He puts his hand on his sword.] I would not have you, lord, forget yourself, Nor tempt the danger of my true defense, Lest I, by marking of your rage, forget Your worth, your greatness, and nobility. BIGOT Out, dunghill! Dar'st thou brave a nobleman? HUBERT Not for my life. But yet I dare defend My innocent life against an emperor. SALISBURY Thou art a murderer. HUBERT Do not prove me so. Yet I am none. Whose tongue soe'er speaks false, Not truly speaks. Who speaks not truly, lies. PEMBROKE, [drawing his sword] Cut him to pieces. BASTARD, [drawing his sword] Keep the peace, I say. SALISBURY Stand by, or I shall gall you, Faulconbridge. BASTARD Thou wert better gall the devil, Salisbury. If thou but frown on me, or stir thy foot, Or teach thy hasty spleen to do me shame, I'll strike thee dead. Put up thy sword betime, Or I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron That you shall think the devil is come from hell. BIGOT What wilt thou do, renowned Faulconbridge? Second a villain and a murderer? HUBERT Lord Bigot, I am none. BIGOT Who killed this prince? HUBERT 'Tis not an hour since I left him well. I honored him, I loved him, and will weep My date of life out for his sweet life's loss. [He weeps.] SALISBURY Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes, For villainy is not without such rheum, And he, long traded in it, makes it seem like rivers of remorse and innocency. Away with me, all you whose souls abhor Th' uncleanly savors of a slaughterhouse, For I am stifled with this smell of sin. BIGOT Away, toward Bury, to the Dauphin there. PEMBROKE There, tell the King, he may inquire us out. [Lords exit.] BASTARD Here's a good world! Knew you of this fair work? Beyond the infinite and boundless reach Of mercy, if thou didst this deed of death, Art thou damned, Hubert. HUBERT Do but hear me, sir. BASTARD Ha! I'll tell thee what. Thou 'rt damned as black--nay, nothing is so black-- Thou art more deep damned than Prince Lucifer. There is not yet so ugly a fiend of hell As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this child. HUBERT Upon my soul-- BASTARD If thou didst but consent To this most cruel act, do but despair, And if thou want'st a cord, the smallest thread That ever spider twisted from her womb Will serve to strangle thee; a rush will be a beam To hang thee on. Or wouldst thou drown thyself, Put but a little water in a spoon And it shall be as all the ocean, Enough to stifle such a villain up. I do suspect thee very grievously. HUBERT If I in act, consent, or sin of thought Be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath Which was embounded in this beauteous clay, Let hell want pains enough to torture me. I left him well. BASTARD Go, bear him in thine arms. I am amazed, methinks, and lose my way Among the thorns and dangers of this world. [Hubert takes up Arthur's body.] How easy dost thou take all England up! From forth this morsel of dead royalty, The life, the right, and truth of all this realm Is fled to heaven, and England now is left To tug and scamble and to part by th' teeth The unowed interest of proud-swelling state. Now for the bare-picked bone of majesty Doth dogged war bristle his angry crest And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace. Now powers from home and discontents at home Meet in one line, and vast confusion waits, As doth a raven on a sick-fall'n beast, The imminent decay of wrested pomp. Now happy he whose cloak and cincture can Hold out this tempest. Bear away that child, And follow me with speed. I'll to the King. A thousand businesses are brief in hand, And heaven itself doth frown upon the land. [They exit, with Hubert carrying Arthur's body.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter King John and Pandulph with the crown, and their Attendants.] KING JOHN Thus have I yielded up into your hand The circle of my glory. PANDULPH, [handing John the crown] Take again From this my hand, as holding of the Pope, Your sovereign greatness and authority. KING JOHN Now keep your holy word. Go meet the French, And from his Holiness use all your power To stop their marches 'fore we are inflamed. Our discontented counties do revolt, Our people quarrel with obedience, Swearing allegiance and the love of soul To stranger blood, to foreign royalty. This inundation of mistempered humor Rests by you only to be qualified. Then pause not, for the present time's so sick That present med'cine must be ministered, Or overthrow incurable ensues. PANDULPH It was my breath that blew this tempest up, Upon your stubborn usage of the Pope; But since you are a gentle convertite, My tongue shall hush again this storm of war And make fair weather in your blust'ring land. On this Ascension Day, remember well: Upon your oath of service to the Pope, Go I to make the French lay down their arms. [He exits, with Attendants.] KING JOHN Is this Ascension Day? Did not the prophet Say that before Ascension Day at noon My crown I should give off? Even so I have. I did suppose it should be on constraint, But, God be thanked, it is but voluntary. [Enter Bastard.] BASTARD All Kent hath yielded. Nothing there holds out But Dover Castle. London hath received Like a kind host the Dauphin and his powers. Your nobles will not hear you, but are gone To offer service to your enemy; And wild amazement hurries up and down The little number of your doubtful friends. KING JOHN Would not my lords return to me again After they heard young Arthur was alive? BASTARD They found him dead and cast into the streets, An empty casket where the jewel of life By some damned hand was robbed and ta'en away. KING JOHN That villain Hubert told me he did live! BASTARD So, on my soul, he did, for aught he knew. But wherefore do you droop? Why look you sad? Be great in act, as you have been in thought. Let not the world see fear and sad distrust Govern the motion of a kingly eye. Be stirring as the time; be fire with fire; Threaten the threat'ner, and outface the brow Of bragging horror. So shall inferior eyes, That borrow their behaviors from the great, Grow great by your example and put on The dauntless spirit of resolution. Away, and glister like the god of war When he intendeth to become the field. Show boldness and aspiring confidence. What, shall they seek the lion in his den And fright him there? And make him tremble there? O, let it not be said! Forage, and run To meet displeasure farther from the doors, And grapple with him ere he come so nigh. KING JOHN The legate of the Pope hath been with me, And I have made a happy peace with him, And he hath promised to dismiss the powers Led by the Dauphin. BASTARD O inglorious league! Shall we upon the footing of our land Send fair-play orders and make compromise, Insinuation, parley, and base truce To arms invasive? Shall a beardless boy, A cockered silken wanton, brave our fields And flesh his spirit in a warlike soil, Mocking the air with colors idly spread, And find no check? Let us, my liege, to arms! Perchance the Cardinal cannot make your peace; Or if he do, let it at least be said They saw we had a purpose of defense. KING JOHN Have thou the ordering of this present time. BASTARD Away, then, with good courage! [(Aside.)] Yet I know Our party may well meet a prouder foe. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter, in arms, Louis the Dauphin, Salisbury, Melun, Pembroke, Bigot, and French and English Soldiers.] DAUPHIN, [handing a paper to Melun] My Lord Melun, let this be copied out, And keep it safe for our remembrance. Return the precedent to these lords again, That having our fair order written down, Both they and we, perusing o'er these notes, May know wherefore we took the Sacrament, And keep our faiths firm and inviolable. SALISBURY Upon our sides it never shall be broken. And, noble dauphin, albeit we swear A voluntary zeal and unurged faith To your proceedings, yet believe me, prince, I am not glad that such a sore of time Should seek a plaster by contemned revolt And heal the inveterate canker of one wound By making many. O, it grieves my soul That I must draw this metal from my side To be a widow-maker! O, and there Where honorable rescue and defense Cries out upon the name of Salisbury! But such is the infection of the time That for the health and physic of our right, We cannot deal but with the very hand Of stern injustice and confused wrong. And is 't not pity, O my grieved friends, That we, the sons and children of this isle, Was born to see so sad an hour as this, Wherein we step after a stranger, march Upon her gentle bosom, and fill up Her enemies' ranks? I must withdraw and weep Upon the spot of this enforced cause, To grace the gentry of a land remote, And follow unacquainted colors here. What, here? O nation, that thou couldst remove, That Neptune's arms, who clippeth thee about, Would bear thee from the knowledge of thyself And grapple thee unto a pagan shore, Where these two Christian armies might combine The blood of malice in a vein of league, And not to spend it so unneighborly. [He weeps.] DAUPHIN A noble temper dost thou show in this, And great affections wrestling in thy bosom Doth make an earthquake of nobility. O, what a noble combat hast thou fought Between compulsion and a brave respect! Let me wipe off this honorable dew That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks. My heart hath melted at a lady's tears, Being an ordinary inundation, But this effusion of such manly drops, This shower, blown up by tempest of the soul, Startles mine eyes and makes me more amazed Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven Figured quite o'er with burning meteors. Lift up thy brow, renowned Salisbury, And with a great heart heave away this storm. Commend these waters to those baby eyes That never saw the giant world enraged, Nor met with fortune other than at feasts Full warm of blood, of mirth, of gossiping. Come, come; for thou shalt thrust thy hand as deep Into the purse of rich prosperity As Louis himself.--So, nobles, shall you all, That knit your sinews to the strength of mine. And even there, methinks, an angel spake. [Enter Pandulph.] Look where the holy legate comes apace To give us warrant from the hand of God, And on our actions set the name of right With holy breath. PANDULPH Hail, noble prince of France. The next is this: King John hath reconciled Himself to Rome; his spirit is come in That so stood out against the holy Church, The great metropolis and See of Rome. Therefore thy threat'ning colors now wind up, And tame the savage spirit of wild war That, like a lion fostered up at hand, It may lie gently at the foot of peace And be no further harmful than in show. DAUPHIN Your Grace shall pardon me; I will not back. I am too high-born to be propertied, To be a secondary at control, Or useful servingman and instrument To any sovereign state throughout the world. Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars Between this chastised kingdom and myself And brought in matter that should feed this fire; And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out With that same weak wind which enkindled it. You taught me how to know the face of right, Acquainted me with interest to this land, Yea, thrust this enterprise into my heart. And come you now to tell me John hath made His peace with Rome? What is that peace to me? I, by the honor of my marriage bed, After young Arthur claim this land for mine. And now it is half conquered, must I back Because that John hath made his peace with Rome? Am I Rome's slave? What penny hath Rome borne? What men provided? What munition sent To underprop this action? Is 't not I That undergo this charge? Who else but I, And such as to my claim are liable, Sweat in this business and maintain this war? Have I not heard these islanders shout out "Vive le Roi" as I have banked their towns? Have I not here the best cards for the game To win this easy match played for a crown? And shall I now give o'er the yielded set? No, no, on my soul, it never shall be said. PANDULPH You look but on the outside of this work. DAUPHIN Outside or inside, I will not return Till my attempt so much be glorified As to my ample hope was promised Before I drew this gallant head of war And culled these fiery spirits from the world To outlook conquest and to win renown Even in the jaws of danger and of death. [A trumpet sounds.] What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us? [Enter Bastard.] BASTARD According to the fair play of the world, Let me have audience. I am sent to speak, My holy lord of Milan, from the King. I come to learn how you have dealt for him, And, as you answer, I do know the scope And warrant limited unto my tongue. PANDULPH The Dauphin is too willful-opposite And will not temporize with my entreaties. He flatly says he'll not lay down his arms. BASTARD By all the blood that ever fury breathed, The youth says well! Now hear our English king, For thus his royalty doth speak in me: He is prepared--and reason too he should. This apish and unmannerly approach, This harnessed masque and unadvised revel, This unheard sauciness and boyish troops, The King doth smile at, and is well prepared To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms, From out the circle of his territories. That hand which had the strength, even at your door, To cudgel you and make you take the hatch, To dive like buckets in concealed wells, To crouch in litter of your stable planks, To lie like pawns locked up in chests and trunks, To hug with swine, to seek sweet safety out In vaults and prisons, and to thrill and shake Even at the crying of your nation's crow, Thinking this voice an armed Englishman-- Shall that victorious hand be feebled here That in your chambers gave you chastisement? No! Know the gallant monarch is in arms, And like an eagle o'er his aerie towers To souse annoyance that comes near his nest.-- And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts, You bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb Of your dear mother England, blush for shame! For your own ladies and pale-visaged maids Like Amazons come tripping after drums, Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change, Their needles to lances, and their gentle hearts To fierce and bloody inclination. DAUPHIN There end thy brave and turn thy face in peace. We grant thou canst outscold us. Fare thee well. We hold our time too precious to be spent With such a brabbler. PANDULPH Give me leave to speak. BASTARD No, I will speak. DAUPHIN We will attend to neither. Strike up the drums, and let the tongue of war Plead for our interest and our being here. BASTARD Indeed, your drums being beaten will cry out, And so shall you, being beaten. Do but start An echo with the clamor of thy drum, And even at hand a drum is ready braced That shall reverberate all as loud as thine. Sound but another, and another shall, As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear And mock the deep-mouthed thunder. For at hand, Not trusting to this halting legate here, Whom he hath used rather for sport than need, Is warlike John, and in his forehead sits A bare-ribbed Death, whose office is this day To feast upon whole thousands of the French. DAUPHIN Strike up our drums to find this danger out. BASTARD And thou shalt find it, dauphin, do not doubt. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Alarums. Enter King John and Hubert.] KING JOHN How goes the day with us? O, tell me, Hubert. HUBERT Badly, I fear. How fares your Majesty? KING JOHN This fever that hath troubled me so long Lies heavy on me. O, my heart is sick. [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faulconbridge, Desires your Majesty to leave the field And send him word by me which way you go. KING JOHN Tell him toward Swinstead, to the abbey there. MESSENGER Be of good comfort, for the great supply That was expected by the Dauphin here Are wracked three nights ago on Goodwin Sands. This news was brought to Richard but even now. The French fight coldly and retire themselves. KING JOHN Ay me, this tyrant fever burns me up And will not let me welcome this good news. Set on toward Swinstead. To my litter straight. Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Salisbury, Pembroke, and Bigot.] SALISBURY I did not think the King so stored with friends. PEMBROKE Up once again. Put spirit in the French. If they miscarry, we miscarry too. SALISBURY That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge, In spite of spite, alone upholds the day. PEMBROKE They say King John, sore sick, hath left the field. [Enter Melun, wounded, led by a Soldier.] MELUN Lead me to the revolts of England here. SALISBURY When we were happy, we had other names. PEMBROKE It is the Count Melun. SALISBURY Wounded to death. MELUN Fly, noble English; you are bought and sold. Unthread the rude eye of rebellion And welcome home again discarded faith. Seek out King John and fall before his feet, For if the French be lords of this loud day, He means to recompense the pains you take By cutting off your heads. Thus hath he sworn, And I with him, and many more with me, Upon the altar at Saint Edmundsbury, Even on that altar where we swore to you Dear amity and everlasting love. SALISBURY May this be possible? May this be true? MELUN Have I not hideous death within my view, Retaining but a quantity of life, Which bleeds away even as a form of wax Resolveth from his figure 'gainst the fire? What in the world should make me now deceive, Since I must lose the use of all deceit? Why should I then be false, since it is true That I must die here and live hence by truth? I say again, if Louis do win the day, He is forsworn if e'er those eyes of yours Behold another daybreak in the East. But even this night, whose black contagious breath Already smokes about the burning crest Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun, Even this ill night your breathing shall expire, Paying the fine of rated treachery Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives, If Louis by your assistance win the day. Commend me to one Hubert with your king; The love of him, and this respect besides, For that my grandsire was an Englishman, Awakes my conscience to confess all this. In lieu whereof, I pray you bear me hence From forth the noise and rumor of the field, Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts In peace, and part this body and my soul With contemplation and devout desires. SALISBURY We do believe thee, and beshrew my soul But I do love the favor and the form Of this most fair occasion, by the which We will untread the steps of damned flight, And like a bated and retired flood, Leaving our rankness and irregular course, Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlooked And calmly run on in obedience Even to our ocean, to our great King John. My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence, For I do see the cruel pangs of death Right in thine eye.--Away, my friends! New flight, And happy newness, that intends old right. [They exit, assisting Melun.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Louis, the Dauphin and his train.] DAUPHIN The sun of heaven, methought, was loath to set, But stayed and made the western welkin blush, When English measured backward their own ground In faint retire. O, bravely came we off, When with a volley of our needless shot, After such bloody toil, we bid good night And wound our tott'ring colors clearly up, Last in the field and almost lords of it. [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER Where is my prince, the Dauphin? DAUPHIN Here. What news? MESSENGER The Count Melun is slain. The English lords, By his persuasion, are again fall'n off, And your supply, which you have wished so long, Are cast away and sunk on Goodwin Sands. DAUPHIN Ah, foul, shrewd news. Beshrew thy very heart! I did not think to be so sad tonight As this hath made me. Who was he that said King John did fly an hour or two before The stumbling night did part our weary powers? MESSENGER Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord. DAUPHIN Well, keep good quarter and good care tonight. The day shall not be up so soon as I To try the fair adventure of tomorrow. [They exit.] Scene 6 ======= [Enter Bastard and Hubert, severally.] HUBERT Who's there? Speak ho! Speak quickly, or I shoot. BASTARD A friend. What art thou? HUBERT Of the part of England. BASTARD Whither dost thou go? HUBERT What's that to thee? BASTARD Why may not I demand of thine affairs As well as thou of mine? Hubert, I think? HUBERT Thou hast a perfect thought. I will upon all hazards well believe Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so well. Who art thou? BASTARD Who thou wilt. An if thou please, Thou mayst befriend me so much as to think I come one way of the Plantagenets. HUBERT Unkind remembrance! Thou and endless night Have done me shame. Brave soldier, pardon me That any accent breaking from thy tongue Should 'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear. BASTARD Come, come. Sans compliment, what news abroad? HUBERT Why, here walk I in the black brow of night To find you out. BASTARD Brief, then; and what's the news? HUBERT O my sweet sir, news fitting to the night, Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible. BASTARD Show me the very wound of this ill news. I am no woman; I'll not swoon at it. HUBERT The King, I fear, is poisoned by a monk. I left him almost speechless, and broke out To acquaint you with this evil, that you might The better arm you to the sudden time Than if you had at leisure known of this. BASTARD How did he take it? Who did taste to him? HUBERT A monk, I tell you, a resolved villain, Whose bowels suddenly burst out. The King Yet speaks and peradventure may recover. BASTARD Who didst thou leave to tend his Majesty? HUBERT Why, know you not? The lords are all come back, And brought Prince Henry in their company, At whose request the King hath pardoned them, And they are all about his Majesty. BASTARD Withhold thine indignation, mighty God, And tempt us not to bear above our power. I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power this night, Passing these flats, are taken by the tide. These Lincoln Washes have devoured them. Myself, well mounted, hardly have escaped. Away before. Conduct me to the King. I doubt he will be dead or ere I come. [They exit.] Scene 7 ======= [Enter Prince Henry, Salisbury, and Bigot.] PRINCE HENRY It is too late. The life of all his blood Is touched corruptibly, and his pure brain, Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling-house, Doth, by the idle comments that it makes, Foretell the ending of mortality. [Enter Pembroke.] PEMBROKE His Highness yet doth speak, and holds belief That being brought into the open air It would allay the burning quality Of that fell poison which assaileth him. PRINCE HENRY Let him be brought into the orchard here. [Bigot exits.] Doth he still rage? PEMBROKE He is more patient Than when you left him. Even now he sung. PRINCE HENRY O vanity of sickness! Fierce extremes In their continuance will not feel themselves. Death, having preyed upon the outward parts, Leaves them invisible, and his siege is now Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds With many legions of strange fantasies, Which in their throng and press to that last hold Confound themselves. 'Tis strange that Death should sing. I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death, And from the organ-pipe of frailty sings His soul and body to their lasting rest. SALISBURY Be of good comfort, prince, for you are born To set a form upon that indigest Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude. [King John brought in, attended by Bigot.] KING JOHN Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-room. It would not out at windows nor at doors. There is so hot a summer in my bosom That all my bowels crumble up to dust. I am a scribbled form drawn with a pen Upon a parchment, and against this fire Do I shrink up. PRINCE HENRY How fares your Majesty? KING JOHN Poisoned--ill fare--dead, forsook, cast off, And none of you will bid the winter come To thrust his icy fingers in my maw, Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course Through my burned bosom, nor entreat the North To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips And comfort me with cold. I do not ask you much. I beg cold comfort, and you are so strait And so ingrateful, you deny me that. PRINCE HENRY O, that there were some virtue in my tears That might relieve you! KING JOHN The salt in them is hot. Within me is a hell, and there the poison Is, as a fiend, confined to tyrannize On unreprievable, condemned blood. [Enter Bastard.] BASTARD O, I am scalded with my violent motion And spleen of speed to see your Majesty. KING JOHN O cousin, thou art come to set mine eye. The tackle of my heart is cracked and burnt, And all the shrouds wherewith my life should sail Are turned to one thread, one little hair. My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, Which holds but till thy news be uttered, And then all this thou seest is but a clod And module of confounded royalty. BASTARD The Dauphin is preparing hitherward, Where God He knows how we shall answer him. For in a night the best part of my power, As I upon advantage did remove, Were in the Washes all unwarily Devoured by the unexpected flood. [King John dies.] SALISBURY You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear.-- My liege! My lord!--But now a king, now thus. PRINCE HENRY Even so must I run on, and even so stop. What surety of the world, what hope, what stay, When this was now a king and now is clay? BASTARD Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind To do the office for thee of revenge, And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven, As it on Earth hath been thy servant still.-- Now, now, you stars, that move in your right spheres, Where be your powers? Show now your mended faiths And instantly return with me again To push destruction and perpetual shame Out of the weak door of our fainting land. Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be sought; The Dauphin rages at our very heels. SALISBURY It seems you know not, then, so much as we. The Cardinal Pandulph is within at rest, Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin, And brings from him such offers of our peace As we with honor and respect may take, With purpose presently to leave this war. BASTARD He will the rather do it when he sees Ourselves well-sinewed to our defense. SALISBURY Nay, 'tis in a manner done already, For many carriages he hath dispatched To the sea-side, and put his cause and quarrel To the disposing of the Cardinal, With whom yourself, myself, and other lords, If you think meet, this afternoon will post To consummate this business happily. BASTARD Let it be so.--And you, my noble prince, With other princes that may best be spared, Shall wait upon your father's funeral. PRINCE HENRY At Worcester must his body be interred, For so he willed it. BASTARD Thither shall it, then, And happily may your sweet self put on The lineal state and glory of the land, To whom with all submission on my knee I do bequeath my faithful services And true subjection everlastingly. [He kneels.] SALISBURY And the like tender of our love we make To rest without a spot forevermore. [Salisbury, Pembroke, and Bigot kneel.] PRINCE HENRY I have a kind soul that would give you thanks And knows not how to do it but with tears. [They rise.] BASTARD O, let us pay the time but needful woe, Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs. This England never did nor never shall Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms And we shall shock them. Naught shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true. [They exit, bearing the body of King John.]

King Lear by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== LEAR, king of Britain GONERIL, Lear's eldest daughter DUKE OF ALBANY, her husband OSWALD, her steward REGAN, Lear's second daughter DUKE OF CORNWALL, her husband CORDELIA, Lear's youngest daughter KING OF FRANCE, her suitor and then husband DUKE OF BURGUNDY, her suitor EARL OF KENT FOOL EARL OF GLOUCESTER EDGAR, his elder son EDMUND, his younger and illegitimate son CURAN, gentleman of Gloucester's household OLD MAN, a tenant of Gloucester's KNIGHT, serving Lear GENTLEMEN Three SERVANTS MESSENGERS DOCTOR CAPTAINS HERALD Knights in Lear's train, Servants, Officers, Soldiers, Attendants, Gentlemen ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Kent, Gloucester, and Edmund.] KENT I thought the King had more affected the Duke of Albany than Cornwall. GLOUCESTER It did always seem so to us, but now in the division of the kingdom, it appears not which of the dukes he values most, for equalities are so weighed that curiosity in neither can make choice of either's moiety. KENT Is not this your son, my lord? GLOUCESTER His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge. I have so often blushed to acknowledge him that now I am brazed to 't. KENT I cannot conceive you. GLOUCESTER Sir, this young fellow's mother could, whereupon she grew round-wombed and had indeed, sir, a son for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed. Do you smell a fault? KENT I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it being so proper. GLOUCESTER But I have a son, sir, by order of law, some year elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account. Though this knave came something saucily to the world before he was sent for, yet was his mother fair, there was good sport at his making, and the whoreson must be acknowledged.--Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund? EDMUND No, my lord. GLOUCESTER My lord of Kent. Remember him hereafter as my honorable friend. EDMUND My services to your Lordship. KENT I must love you and sue to know you better. EDMUND Sir, I shall study deserving. GLOUCESTER He hath been out nine years, and away he shall again. [(Sennet.)] The King is coming. [Enter King Lear, Cornwall, Albany, Goneril, Regan, Cordelia, and Attendants.] LEAR Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, Gloucester. GLOUCESTER I shall, my lord. [He exits.] LEAR Meantime we shall express our darker purpose.-- Give me the map there. [He is handed a map.] Know that we have divided In three our kingdom, and 'tis our fast intent To shake all cares and business from our age, Conferring them on younger strengths, while we Unburdened crawl toward death. Our son of Cornwall And you, our no less loving son of Albany, We have this hour a constant will to publish Our daughters' several dowers, that future strife May be prevented now. The two great princes, France and Burgundy, Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love, Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn And here are to be answered. Tell me, my daughters-- Since now we will divest us both of rule, Interest of territory, cares of state-- Which of you shall we say doth love us most, That we our largest bounty may extend Where nature doth with merit challenge. Goneril, Our eldest born, speak first. GONERIL Sir, I love you more than word can wield the matter, Dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty, Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare, No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honor; As much as child e'er loved, or father found; A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable. Beyond all manner of so much I love you. CORDELIA, [aside] What shall Cordelia speak? Love, and be silent. LEAR, [pointing to the map] Of all these bounds, even from this line to this, With shadowy forests and with champains riched, With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads, We make thee lady. To thine and Albany's issue Be this perpetual.--What says our second daughter, Our dearest Regan, wife of Cornwall? Speak. REGAN I am made of that self mettle as my sister And prize me at her worth. In my true heart I find she names my very deed of love; Only she comes too short, that I profess Myself an enemy to all other joys Which the most precious square of sense possesses, And find I am alone felicitate In your dear Highness' love. CORDELIA, [aside] Then poor Cordelia! And yet not so, since I am sure my love's More ponderous than my tongue. LEAR To thee and thine hereditary ever Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom, No less in space, validity, and pleasure Than that conferred on Goneril.--Now, our joy, Although our last and least, to whose young love The vines of France and milk of Burgundy Strive to be interessed, what can you say to draw A third more opulent than your sisters'? Speak. CORDELIA Nothing, my lord. LEAR Nothing? CORDELIA Nothing. LEAR Nothing will come of nothing. Speak again. CORDELIA Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave My heart into my mouth. I love your Majesty According to my bond, no more nor less. LEAR How, how, Cordelia? Mend your speech a little, Lest you may mar your fortunes. CORDELIA Good my lord, You have begot me, bred me, loved me. I return those duties back as are right fit: Obey you, love you, and most honor you. Why have my sisters husbands if they say They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed, That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry Half my love with him, half my care and duty. Sure I shall never marry like my sisters, To love my father all. LEAR But goes thy heart with this? CORDELIA Ay, my good lord. LEAR So young and so untender? CORDELIA So young, my lord, and true. LEAR Let it be so. Thy truth, then, be thy dower, For by the sacred radiance of the sun, The mysteries of Hecate and the night, By all the operation of the orbs From whom we do exist and cease to be, Here I disclaim all my paternal care, Propinquity, and property of blood, And as a stranger to my heart and me Hold thee from this forever. The barbarous Scythian, Or he that makes his generation messes To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom Be as well neighbored, pitied, and relieved As thou my sometime daughter. KENT Good my liege-- LEAR Peace, Kent. Come not between the dragon and his wrath. I loved her most and thought to set my rest On her kind nursery. [To Cordelia.] Hence and avoid my sight!-- So be my grave my peace as here I give Her father's heart from her.--Call France. Who stirs? Call Burgundy. [An Attendant exits.] Cornwall and Albany, With my two daughters' dowers digest the third. Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her. I do invest you jointly with my power, Preeminence, and all the large effects That troop with majesty. Ourself by monthly course, With reservation of an hundred knights By you to be sustained, shall our abode Make with you by due turn. Only we shall retain The name and all th' addition to a king. The sway, revenue, execution of the rest, Beloved sons, be yours, which to confirm, This coronet part between you. KENT Royal Lear, Whom I have ever honored as my king, Loved as my father, as my master followed, As my great patron thought on in my prayers-- LEAR The bow is bent and drawn. Make from the shaft. KENT Let it fall rather, though the fork invade The region of my heart. Be Kent unmannerly When Lear is mad. What wouldst thou do, old man? Think'st thou that duty shall have dread to speak When power to flattery bows? To plainness honor's bound When majesty falls to folly. Reserve thy state, And in thy best consideration check This hideous rashness. Answer my life my judgment, Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least, Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sounds Reverb no hollowness. LEAR Kent, on thy life, no more. KENT My life I never held but as a pawn To wage against thine enemies, nor fear to lose it, Thy safety being motive. LEAR Out of my sight! KENT See better, Lear, and let me still remain The true blank of thine eye. LEAR Now, by Apollo-- KENT Now, by Apollo, king, Thou swear'st thy gods in vain. LEAR O vassal! Miscreant! ALBANY/CORNWALL Dear sir, forbear. KENT Kill thy physician, and thy fee bestow Upon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift, Or whilst I can vent clamor from my throat, I'll tell thee thou dost evil. LEAR Hear me, recreant; on thine allegiance, hear me! That thou hast sought to make us break our vows-- Which we durst never yet--and with strained pride To come betwixt our sentence and our power, Which nor our nature nor our place can bear, Our potency made good, take thy reward: Five days we do allot thee for provision To shield thee from disasters of the world, And on the sixth to turn thy hated back Upon our kingdom. If on the tenth day following Thy banished trunk be found in our dominions, The moment is thy death. Away! By Jupiter, This shall not be revoked. KENT Fare thee well, king. Sith thus thou wilt appear, Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here. [To Cordelia.] The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid, That justly think'st and hast most rightly said. [To Goneril and Regan.] And your large speeches may your deeds approve, That good effects may spring from words of love.-- Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu. He'll shape his old course in a country new. [He exits.] [Flourish. Enter Gloucester with France, and Burgundy, and Attendants.] GLOUCESTER Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord. LEAR My lord of Burgundy, We first address toward you, who with this king Hath rivaled for our daughter. What in the least Will you require in present dower with her, Or cease your quest of love? BURGUNDY Most royal Majesty, I crave no more than hath your Highness offered, Nor will you tender less. LEAR Right noble Burgundy, When she was dear to us, we did hold her so, But now her price is fallen. Sir, there she stands. If aught within that little seeming substance, Or all of it, with our displeasure pieced And nothing more, may fitly like your Grace, She's there, and she is yours. BURGUNDY I know no answer. LEAR Will you, with those infirmities she owes, Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate, Dowered with our curse and strangered with our oath, Take her or leave her? BURGUNDY Pardon me, royal sir, Election makes not up in such conditions. LEAR Then leave her, sir, for by the power that made me I tell you all her wealth.--For you, great king, I would not from your love make such a stray To match you where I hate. Therefore beseech you T' avert your liking a more worthier way Than on a wretch whom Nature is ashamed Almost t' acknowledge hers. FRANCE This is most strange, That she whom even but now was your best object, The argument of your praise, balm of your age, The best, the dearest, should in this trice of time Commit a thing so monstrous to dismantle So many folds of favor. Sure her offense Must be of such unnatural degree That monsters it, or your forevouched affection Fall into taint; which to believe of her Must be a faith that reason without miracle Should never plant in me. CORDELIA, [to Lear] I yet beseech your Majesty-- If for I want that glib and oily art To speak and purpose not, since what I well intend I'll do 't before I speak--that you make known It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness, No unchaste action or dishonored step That hath deprived me of your grace and favor, But even for want of that for which I am richer: A still-soliciting eye and such a tongue That I am glad I have not, though not to have it Hath lost me in your liking. LEAR Better thou Hadst not been born than not t' have pleased me better. FRANCE Is it but this--a tardiness in nature Which often leaves the history unspoke That it intends to do?--My lord of Burgundy, What say you to the lady? Love's not love When it is mingled with regards that stands Aloof from th' entire point. Will you have her? She is herself a dowry. BURGUNDY, [to Lear] Royal king, Give but that portion which yourself proposed, And here I take Cordelia by the hand, Duchess of Burgundy. LEAR Nothing. I have sworn. I am firm. BURGUNDY, [to Cordelia] I am sorry, then, you have so lost a father That you must lose a husband. CORDELIA Peace be with Burgundy. Since that respect and fortunes are his love, I shall not be his wife. FRANCE Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich being poor; Most choice, forsaken; and most loved, despised, Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon, Be it lawful I take up what's cast away. Gods, gods! 'Tis strange that from their cold'st neglect My love should kindle to enflamed respect.-- Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance, Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France. Not all the dukes of wat'rish Burgundy Can buy this unprized precious maid of me.-- Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind. Thou losest here a better where to find. LEAR Thou hast her, France. Let her be thine, for we Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see That face of hers again. [To Cordelia.] Therefore begone Without our grace, our love, our benison.-- Come, noble Burgundy. [Flourish. All but France, Cordelia, Goneril, and Regan exit.] FRANCE Bid farewell to your sisters. CORDELIA The jewels of our father, with washed eyes Cordelia leaves you. I know you what you are, And like a sister am most loath to call Your faults as they are named. Love well our father. To your professed bosoms I commit him; But yet, alas, stood I within his grace, I would prefer him to a better place. So farewell to you both. REGAN Prescribe not us our duty. GONERIL Let your study Be to content your lord, who hath received you At Fortune's alms. You have obedience scanted And well are worth the want that you have wanted. CORDELIA Time shall unfold what plighted cunning hides, Who covers faults at last with shame derides. Well may you prosper. FRANCE Come, my fair Cordelia. [France and Cordelia exit.] GONERIL Sister, it is not little I have to say of what most nearly appertains to us both. I think our father will hence tonight. REGAN That's most certain, and with you; next month with us. GONERIL You see how full of changes his age is; the observation we have made of it hath not been little. He always loved our sister most, and with what poor judgment he hath now cast her off appears too grossly. REGAN 'Tis the infirmity of his age. Yet he hath ever but slenderly known himself. GONERIL The best and soundest of his time hath been but rash. Then must we look from his age to receive not alone the imperfections of long-engraffed condition, but therewithal the unruly waywardness that infirm and choleric years bring with them. REGAN Such unconstant starts are we like to have from him as this of Kent's banishment. GONERIL There is further compliment of leave-taking between France and him. Pray you, let us sit together. If our father carry authority with such disposition as he bears, this last surrender of his will but offend us. REGAN We shall further think of it. GONERIL We must do something, and i' th' heat. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Edmund, the Bastard.] EDMUND Thou, Nature, art my goddess. To thy law My services are bound. Wherefore should I Stand in the plague of custom, and permit The curiosity of nations to deprive me For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines Lag of a brother? why "bastard"? Wherefore "base," When my dimensions are as well compact, My mind as generous and my shape as true As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us With "base," with "baseness," "bastardy," "base," "base," Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take More composition and fierce quality Than doth within a dull, stale, tired bed Go to th' creating a whole tribe of fops Got 'tween asleep and wake? Well then, Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land. Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund As to th' legitimate. Fine word, "legitimate." Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed And my invention thrive, Edmund the base Shall top th' legitimate. I grow, I prosper. Now, gods, stand up for bastards! [Enter Gloucester.] GLOUCESTER Kent banished thus? And France in choler parted? And the King gone tonight, prescribed his power, Confined to exhibition? All this done Upon the gad?--Edmund, how now? What news? EDMUND So please your Lordship, none. [He puts a paper in his pocket.] GLOUCESTER Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter? EDMUND I know no news, my lord. GLOUCESTER What paper were you reading? EDMUND Nothing, my lord. GLOUCESTER No? What needed then that terrible dispatch of it into your pocket? The quality of nothing hath not such need to hide itself. Let's see. Come, if it be nothing, I shall not need spectacles. EDMUND I beseech you, sir, pardon me. It is a letter from my brother that I have not all o'erread; and for so much as I have perused, I find it not fit for your o'erlooking. GLOUCESTER Give me the letter, sir. EDMUND I shall offend either to detain or give it. The contents, as in part I understand them, are to blame. GLOUCESTER Let's see, let's see. [Edmund gives him the paper.] EDMUND I hope, for my brother's justification, he wrote this but as an essay or taste of my virtue. GLOUCESTER [(reads)] This policy and reverence of age makes the world bitter to the best of our times, keeps our fortunes from us till our oldness cannot relish them. I begin to find an idle and fond bondage in the oppression of aged tyranny, who sways not as it hath power but as it is suffered. Come to me, that of this I may speak more. If our father would sleep till I waked him, you should enjoy half his revenue forever and live the beloved of your brother. Edgar. Hum? Conspiracy? "Sleep till I wake him, you should enjoy half his revenue." My son Edgar! Had he a hand to write this? A heart and brain to breed it in?--When came you to this? Who brought it? EDMUND It was not brought me, my lord; there's the cunning of it. I found it thrown in at the casement of my closet. GLOUCESTER You know the character to be your brother's? EDMUND If the matter were good, my lord, I durst swear it were his; but in respect of that, I would fain think it were not. GLOUCESTER It is his. EDMUND It is his hand, my lord, but I hope his heart is not in the contents. GLOUCESTER Has he never before sounded you in this business? EDMUND Never, my lord. But I have heard him oft maintain it to be fit that, sons at perfect age and fathers declined, the father should be as ward to the son, and the son manage his revenue. GLOUCESTER O villain, villain! His very opinion in the letter. Abhorred villain! Unnatural, detested, brutish villain! Worse than brutish!--Go, sirrah, seek him. I'll apprehend him.--Abominable villain!-- Where is he? EDMUND I do not well know, my lord. If it shall please you to suspend your indignation against my brother till you can derive from him better testimony of his intent, you should run a certain course; where, if you violently proceed against him, mistaking his purpose, it would make a great gap in your own honor and shake in pieces the heart of his obedience. I dare pawn down my life for him that he hath writ this to feel my affection to your Honor, and to no other pretense of danger. GLOUCESTER Think you so? EDMUND If your Honor judge it meet, I will place you where you shall hear us confer of this, and by an auricular assurance have your satisfaction, and that without any further delay than this very evening. GLOUCESTER He cannot be such a monster. EDMUND Nor is not, sure. GLOUCESTER To his father, that so tenderly and entirely loves him! Heaven and Earth! Edmund, seek him out; wind me into him, I pray you. Frame the business after your own wisdom. I would unstate myself to be in a due resolution. EDMUND I will seek him, sir, presently, convey the business as I shall find means, and acquaint you withal. GLOUCESTER These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us. Though the wisdom of nature can reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself scourged by the sequent effects. Love cools, friendship falls off, brothers divide; in cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in palaces, treason; and the bond cracked 'twixt son and father. This villain of mine comes under the prediction: there's son against father. The King falls from bias of nature: there's father against child. We have seen the best of our time. Machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all ruinous disorders follow us disquietly to our graves.--Find out this villain, Edmund. It shall lose thee nothing. Do it carefully.--And the noble and true-hearted Kent banished! His offense, honesty! 'Tis strange. [He exits.] EDMUND This is the excellent foppery of the world, that when we are sick in fortune (often the surfeits of our own behavior) we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and stars, as if we were villains on necessity; fools by heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and treachers by spherical predominance; drunkards, liars, and adulterers by an enforced obedience of planetary influence; and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on. An admirable evasion of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish disposition on the charge of a star! My father compounded with my mother under the Dragon's tail, and my nativity was under Ursa Major, so that it follows I am rough and lecherous. Fut, I should have been that I am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing. Edgar-- [Enter Edgar.] and pat he comes like the catastrophe of the old comedy. My cue is villainous melancholy, with a sigh like Tom o' Bedlam.--O, these eclipses do portend these divisions. Fa, sol, la, mi. EDGAR How now, brother Edmund, what serious contemplation are you in? EDMUND I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read this other day, what should follow these eclipses. EDGAR Do you busy yourself with that? EDMUND I promise you, the effects he writes of succeed unhappily, as of unnaturalness between the child and the parent, death, dearth, dissolutions of ancient amities, divisions in state, menaces and maledictions against king and nobles, needless diffidences, banishment of friends, dissipation of cohorts, nuptial breaches, and I know not what. EDGAR How long have you been a sectary astronomical? EDMUND Come, come, when saw you my father last? EDGAR The night gone by. EDMUND Spake you with him? EDGAR Ay, two hours together. EDMUND Parted you in good terms? Found you no displeasure in him by word nor countenance? EDGAR None at all. EDMUND Bethink yourself wherein you may have offended him, and at my entreaty forbear his presence until some little time hath qualified the heat of his displeasure, which at this instant so rageth in him that with the mischief of your person it would scarcely allay. EDGAR Some villain hath done me wrong. EDMUND That's my fear. I pray you have a continent forbearance till the speed of his rage goes slower; and, as I say, retire with me to my lodging, from whence I will fitly bring you to hear my lord speak. Pray you go. There's my key. If you do stir abroad, go armed. EDGAR Armed, brother? EDMUND Brother, I advise you to the best. I am no honest man if there be any good meaning toward you. I have told you what I have seen and heard, but faintly, nothing like the image and horror of it. Pray you, away. EDGAR Shall I hear from you anon? EDMUND I do serve you in this business. [Edgar exits.] A credulous father and a brother noble, Whose nature is so far from doing harms That he suspects none; on whose foolish honesty My practices ride easy. I see the business. Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit. All with me's meet that I can fashion fit. [He exits.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Goneril and Oswald, her Steward.] GONERIL Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his Fool? OSWALD Ay, madam. GONERIL By day and night he wrongs me. Every hour He flashes into one gross crime or other That sets us all at odds. I'll not endure it. His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us On every trifle. When he returns from hunting, I will not speak with him. Say I am sick. If you come slack of former services, You shall do well. The fault of it I'll answer. OSWALD He's coming, madam. I hear him. GONERIL Put on what weary negligence you please, You and your fellows. I'd have it come to question. If he distaste it, let him to my sister, Whose mind and mine I know in that are one, Not to be overruled. Idle old man That still would manage those authorities That he hath given away. Now, by my life, Old fools are babes again and must be used With checks as flatteries, when they are seen abused. Remember what I have said. OSWALD Well, madam. GONERIL And let his knights have colder looks among you. What grows of it, no matter. Advise your fellows so. I would breed from hence occasions, and I shall, That I may speak. I'll write straight to my sister To hold my very course. Prepare for dinner. [They exit in different directions.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Kent in disguise.] KENT If but as well I other accents borrow That can my speech diffuse, my good intent May carry through itself to that full issue For which I razed my likeness. Now, banished Kent, If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemned, So may it come thy master, whom thou lov'st, Shall find thee full of labors. [Horns within. Enter Lear, Knights, and Attendants.] LEAR Let me not stay a jot for dinner. Go get it ready. [An Attendant exits.] How now, what art thou? KENT A man, sir. LEAR What dost thou profess? What wouldst thou with us? KENT I do profess to be no less than I seem, to serve him truly that will put me in trust, to love him that is honest, to converse with him that is wise and says little, to fear judgment, to fight when I cannot choose, and to eat no fish. LEAR What art thou? KENT A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the King. LEAR If thou be'st as poor for a subject as he's for a king, thou art poor enough. What wouldst thou? KENT Service. LEAR Who wouldst thou serve? KENT You. LEAR Dost thou know me, fellow? KENT No, sir, but you have that in your countenance which I would fain call master. LEAR What's that? KENT Authority. LEAR What services canst do? KENT I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a curious tale in telling it, and deliver a plain message bluntly. That which ordinary men are fit for I am qualified in, and the best of me is diligence. LEAR How old art thou? KENT Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing, nor so old to dote on her for anything. I have years on my back forty-eight. LEAR Follow me. Thou shalt serve me--if I like thee no worse after dinner. I will not part from thee yet.--Dinner, ho, dinner!--Where's my knave, my Fool? Go you and call my Fool hither. [An Attendant exits.] [Enter Oswald, the Steward.] You, you, sirrah, where's my daughter? OSWALD So please you-- [He exits.] LEAR What says the fellow there? Call the clotpole back. [A Knight exits.] Where's my Fool? Ho! I think the world's asleep. [Enter Knight again.] How now? Where's that mongrel? KNIGHT He says, my lord, your daughter is not well. LEAR Why came not the slave back to me when I called him? KNIGHT Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, he would not. LEAR He would not? KNIGHT My lord, I know not what the matter is, but to my judgment your Highness is not entertained with that ceremonious affection as you were wont. There's a great abatement of kindness appears as well in the general dependents as in the Duke himself also, and your daughter. LEAR Ha? Sayst thou so? KNIGHT I beseech you pardon me, my lord, if I be mistaken, for my duty cannot be silent when I think your Highness wronged. LEAR Thou but remembrest me of mine own conception. I have perceived a most faint neglect of late, which I have rather blamed as mine own jealous curiosity than as a very pretense and purpose of unkindness. I will look further into 't. But where's my Fool? I have not seen him this two days. KNIGHT Since my young lady's going into France, sir, the Fool hath much pined away. LEAR No more of that. I have noted it well.--Go you and tell my daughter I would speak with her. [An Attendant exits.] Go you call hither my Fool. [Another exits.] [Enter Oswald, the Steward.] O you, sir, you, come you hither, sir. Who am I, sir? OSWALD My lady's father. LEAR "My lady's father"? My lord's knave! You whoreson dog, you slave, you cur! OSWALD I am none of these, my lord, I beseech your pardon. LEAR Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal? [Lear strikes him.] OSWALD I'll not be strucken, my lord. KENT, [tripping him] Nor tripped neither, you base football player? LEAR I thank thee, fellow. Thou serv'st me, and I'll love thee. KENT, [to Oswald] Come, sir, arise. Away. I'll teach you differences. Away, away. If you will measure your lubber's length again, tarry. But away. Go to. Have you wisdom? So. [Oswald exits.] LEAR Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee. There's earnest of thy service. [He gives Kent a purse.] [Enter Fool.] FOOL Let me hire him too. [To Kent.] Here's my coxcomb. [He offers Kent his cap.] LEAR How now, my pretty knave, how dost thou? FOOL, [to Kent] Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb. LEAR Why, my boy? FOOL Why? For taking one's part that's out of favor. [To Kent.] Nay, an thou canst not smile as the wind sits, thou 'lt catch cold shortly. There, take my coxcomb. Why, this fellow has banished two on 's daughters and did the third a blessing against his will. If thou follow him, thou must needs wear my coxcomb.--How now, nuncle? Would I had two coxcombs and two daughters. LEAR Why, my boy? FOOL If I gave them all my living, I'd keep my coxcombs myself. There's mine. Beg another of thy daughters. LEAR Take heed, sirrah--the whip. FOOL Truth's a dog must to kennel; he must be whipped out, when the Lady Brach may stand by th' fire and stink. LEAR A pestilent gall to me! FOOL Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech. LEAR Do. FOOL Mark it, nuncle: Have more than thou showest. Speak less than thou knowest, Lend less than thou owest, Ride more than thou goest, Learn more than thou trowest, Set less than thou throwest; Leave thy drink and thy whore And keep in-a-door, And thou shalt have more Than two tens to a score. KENT This is nothing, Fool. FOOL Then 'tis like the breath of an unfee'd lawyer. You gave me nothing for 't.--Can you make no use of nothing, nuncle? LEAR Why no, boy. Nothing can be made out of nothing. FOOL, [to Kent] Prithee tell him, so much the rent of his land comes to. He will not believe a Fool. LEAR A bitter Fool! FOOL Dost know the difference, my boy, between a bitter fool and a sweet one? LEAR No, lad, teach me. FOOL That lord that counseled thee To give away thy land, Come place him here by me; Do thou for him stand. The sweet and bitter fool Will presently appear: The one in motley here, The other found out there. LEAR Dost thou call me "fool," boy? FOOL All thy other titles thou hast given away. That thou wast born with. KENT This is not altogether fool, my lord. FOOL No, faith, lords and great men will not let me. If I had a monopoly out, they would have part on 't. And ladies too, they will not let me have all the fool to myself; they'll be snatching.--Nuncle, give me an egg, and I'll give thee two crowns. LEAR What two crowns shall they be? FOOL Why, after I have cut the egg i' th' middle and eat up the meat, the two crowns of the egg. When thou clovest thy crown i' th' middle and gav'st away both parts, thou bor'st thine ass on thy back o'er the dirt. Thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown when thou gav'st thy golden one away. If I speak like myself in this, let him be whipped that first finds it so. [Sings.] Fools had ne'er less grace in a year, For wise men are grown foppish And know not how their wits to wear, Their manners are so apish. LEAR When were you wont to be so full of songs, sirrah? FOOL I have used it, nuncle, e'er since thou mad'st thy daughters thy mothers. For when thou gav'st them the rod and put'st down thine own breeches, [Sings.] Then they for sudden joy did weep, And I for sorrow sung, That such a king should play bo-peep And go the fools among. Prithee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can teach thy Fool to lie. I would fain learn to lie. LEAR An you lie, sirrah, we'll have you whipped. FOOL I marvel what kin thou and thy daughters are. They'll have me whipped for speaking true, thou 'lt have me whipped for lying, and sometimes I am whipped for holding my peace. I had rather be any kind o' thing than a Fool. And yet I would not be thee, nuncle. Thou hast pared thy wit o' both sides and left nothing i' th' middle. Here comes one o' the parings. [Enter Goneril.] LEAR How now, daughter? What makes that frontlet on? Methinks you are too much of late i' th' frown. FOOL Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no need to care for her frowning. Now thou art an O without a figure. I am better than thou art now. I am a Fool. Thou art nothing. [To Goneril.] Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue. So your face bids me, though you say nothing. Mum, mum, He that keeps nor crust nor crumb, Weary of all, shall want some. [He points at Lear.] That's a shelled peascod. GONERIL Not only, sir, this your all-licensed Fool, But other of your insolent retinue Do hourly carp and quarrel, breaking forth In rank and not-to-be-endured riots. Sir, I had thought by making this well known unto you To have found a safe redress, but now grow fearful, By what yourself too late have spoke and done, That you protect this course and put it on By your allowance; which if you should, the fault Would not 'scape censure, nor the redresses sleep Which in the tender of a wholesome weal Might in their working do you that offense, Which else were shame, that then necessity Will call discreet proceeding. FOOL For you know, nuncle, The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, That it's had it head bit off by it young. So out went the candle, and we were left darkling. LEAR Are you our daughter? GONERIL I would you would make use of your good wisdom, Whereof I know you are fraught, and put away These dispositions which of late transport you From what you rightly are. FOOL May not an ass know when the cart draws the horse? Whoop, Jug, I love thee! LEAR Does any here know me? This is not Lear. Does Lear walk thus, speak thus? Where are his eyes? Either his notion weakens, his discernings Are lethargied--Ha! Waking? 'Tis not so. Who is it that can tell me who I am? FOOL Lear's shadow. LEAR I would learn that, for, by the marks of sovereignty, Knowledge, and reason, I should be false persuaded I had daughters. FOOL Which they will make an obedient father. LEAR Your name, fair gentlewoman? GONERIL This admiration, sir, is much o' th' savor Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you To understand my purposes aright. As you are old and reverend, should be wise. Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires, Men so disordered, so debauched and bold, That this our court, infected with their manners, Shows like a riotous inn. Epicurism and lust Makes it more like a tavern or a brothel Than a graced palace. The shame itself doth speak For instant remedy. Be then desired, By her that else will take the thing she begs, A little to disquantity your train, And the remainders that shall still depend To be such men as may besort your age, Which know themselves and you. LEAR Darkness and devils!-- Saddle my horses. Call my train together. [Some exit.] Degenerate bastard, I'll not trouble thee. Yet have I left a daughter. GONERIL You strike my people, and your disordered rabble Make servants of their betters. [Enter Albany.] LEAR Woe that too late repents!--O, sir, are you come? Is it your will? Speak, sir.--Prepare my horses. [Some exit.] Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend, More hideous when thou show'st thee in a child Than the sea monster! ALBANY Pray, sir, be patient. LEAR, [to Goneril] Detested kite, thou liest. My train are men of choice and rarest parts, That all particulars of duty know And in the most exact regard support The worships of their name. O most small fault, How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show, Which, like an engine, wrenched my frame of nature From the fixed place, drew from my heart all love And added to the gall! O Lear, Lear, Lear! [He strikes his head.] Beat at this gate that let thy folly in And thy dear judgment out. Go, go, my people. [Some exit.] ALBANY My lord, I am guiltless as I am ignorant Of what hath moved you. LEAR It may be so, my lord.-- Hear, Nature, hear, dear goddess, hear! Suspend thy purpose if thou didst intend To make this creature fruitful. Into her womb convey sterility. Dry up in her the organs of increase, And from her derogate body never spring A babe to honor her. If she must teem, Create her child of spleen, that it may live And be a thwart disnatured torment to her. Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth, With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks, Turn all her mother's pains and benefits To laughter and contempt, that she may feel How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is To have a thankless child.--Away, away! [Lear and the rest of his train exit.] ALBANY Now, gods that we adore, whereof comes this? GONERIL Never afflict yourself to know more of it, But let his disposition have that scope As dotage gives it. [Enter Lear and the Fool.] LEAR What, fifty of my followers at a clap? Within a fortnight? ALBANY What's the matter, sir? LEAR I'll tell thee. [To Goneril.] Life and death! I am ashamed That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus, That these hot tears, which break from me perforce, Should make thee worth them. Blasts and fogs upon thee! Th' untented woundings of a father's curse Pierce every sense about thee! Old fond eyes, Beweep this cause again, I'll pluck you out And cast you, with the waters that you loose, To temper clay. Yea, is 't come to this? Ha! Let it be so. I have another daughter Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable. When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails She'll flay thy wolvish visage. Thou shalt find That I'll resume the shape which thou dost think I have cast off forever. [He exits.] GONERIL Do you mark that? ALBANY I cannot be so partial, Goneril, To the great love I bear you-- GONERIL Pray you, content.--What, Oswald, ho!-- You, sir, more knave than Fool, after your master. FOOL Nuncle Lear, Nuncle Lear, tarry. Take the Fool with thee. A fox, when one has caught her, And such a daughter, Should sure to the slaughter, If my cap would buy a halter. So the Fool follows after. [He exits.] GONERIL This man hath had good counsel. A hundred knights! 'Tis politic and safe to let him keep At point a hundred knights! Yes, that on every dream, Each buzz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike, He may enguard his dotage with their powers And hold our lives in mercy.--Oswald, I say! ALBANY Well, you may fear too far. GONERIL Safer than trust too far. Let me still take away the harms I fear, Not fear still to be taken. I know his heart. What he hath uttered I have writ my sister. If she sustain him and his hundred knights When I have showed th' unfitness-- [Enter Oswald, the Steward.] How now, Oswald? What, have you writ that letter to my sister? OSWALD Ay, madam. GONERIL Take you some company and away to horse. Inform her full of my particular fear, And thereto add such reasons of your own As may compact it more. Get you gone, And hasten your return. [Oswald exits.] No, no, my lord, This milky gentleness and course of yours, Though I condemn not, yet, under pardon, You are much more at task for want of wisdom Than praised for harmful mildness. ALBANY How far your eyes may pierce I cannot tell. Striving to better, oft we mar what's well. GONERIL Nay, then-- ALBANY Well, well, th' event. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Lear, Kent in disguise, Gentleman, and Fool.] LEAR, [to Kent] Go you before to Gloucester with these letters. Acquaint my daughter no further with anything you know than comes from her demand out of the letter. If your diligence be not speedy, I shall be there afore you. KENT I will not sleep, my lord, till I have delivered your letter. [He exits.] FOOL If a man's brains were in 's heels, were 't not in danger of kibes? LEAR Ay, boy. FOOL Then, I prithee, be merry; thy wit shall not go slipshod. LEAR Ha, ha, ha! FOOL Shalt see thy other daughter will use thee kindly, for, though she's as like this as a crab's like an apple, yet I can tell what I can tell. LEAR What canst tell, boy? FOOL She will taste as like this as a crab does to a crab. Thou canst tell why one's nose stands i' th' middle on 's face? LEAR No. FOOL Why, to keep one's eyes of either side 's nose, that what a man cannot smell out he may spy into. LEAR I did her wrong. FOOL Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell? LEAR No. FOOL Nor I neither. But I can tell why a snail has a house. LEAR Why? FOOL Why, to put 's head in, not to give it away to his daughters and leave his horns without a case. LEAR I will forget my nature. So kind a father!--Be my horses ready? [Gentleman exits.] FOOL Thy asses are gone about 'em. The reason why the seven stars are no more than seven is a pretty reason. LEAR Because they are not eight. FOOL Yes, indeed. Thou wouldst make a good Fool. LEAR To take 't again perforce! Monster ingratitude! FOOL If thou wert my Fool, nuncle, I'd have thee beaten for being old before thy time. LEAR How's that? FOOL Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst been wise. LEAR O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven! Keep me in temper. I would not be mad! [Enter Gentleman.] How now, are the horses ready? GENTLEMAN Ready, my lord. LEAR Come, boy. FOOL She that's a maid now and laughs at my departure, Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut shorter. [They exit.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Edmund, the Bastard and Curan, severally.] EDMUND Save thee, Curan. CURAN And you, sir. I have been with your father and given him notice that the Duke of Cornwall and Regan his duchess will be here with him this night. EDMUND How comes that? CURAN Nay, I know not. You have heard of the news abroad?--I mean the whispered ones, for they are yet but ear-kissing arguments. EDMUND Not I. Pray you, what are they? CURAN Have you heard of no likely wars toward 'twixt the dukes of Cornwall and Albany? EDMUND Not a word. CURAN You may do, then, in time. Fare you well, sir. [He exits.] EDMUND The Duke be here tonight? The better, best. This weaves itself perforce into my business. My father hath set guard to take my brother, And I have one thing of a queasy question Which I must act. Briefness and fortune work!-- Brother, a word. Descend. Brother, I say! [Enter Edgar.] My father watches. O sir, fly this place! Intelligence is given where you are hid. You have now the good advantage of the night. Have you not spoken 'gainst the Duke of Cornwall? He's coming hither, now, i' th' night, i' th' haste, And Regan with him. Have you nothing said Upon his party 'gainst the Duke of Albany? Advise yourself. EDGAR I am sure on 't, not a word. EDMUND I hear my father coming. Pardon me. In cunning I must draw my sword upon you. Draw. Seem to defend yourself. Now, quit you well. [They draw.] Yield! Come before my father! Light, hoa, here! [Aside to Edgar.] Fly, brother.--Torches, torches! --So, farewell. [Edgar exits.] Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion Of my more fierce endeavor. I have seen drunkards Do more than this in sport. [He wounds his arm.] Father, father! Stop, stop! No help? [Enter Gloucester, and Servants with torches.] GLOUCESTER Now, Edmund, where's the villain? EDMUND Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out, Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon To stand auspicious mistress. GLOUCESTER But where is he? EDMUND Look, sir, I bleed. GLOUCESTER Where is the villain, Edmund? EDMUND Fled this way, sir, when by no means he could-- GLOUCESTER Pursue him, ho! Go after. [Servants exit.] By no means what? EDMUND Persuade me to the murder of your Lordship, But that I told him the revenging gods 'Gainst parricides did all the thunder bend, Spoke with how manifold and strong a bond The child was bound to th' father--sir, in fine, Seeing how loathly opposite I stood To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion With his prepared sword he charges home My unprovided body, lanced mine arm; And when he saw my best alarumed spirits, Bold in the quarrel's right, roused to th' encounter, Or whether ghasted by the noise I made, Full suddenly he fled. GLOUCESTER Let him fly far! Not in this land shall he remain uncaught, And found--dispatch. The noble duke my master, My worthy arch and patron, comes tonight. By his authority I will proclaim it That he which finds him shall deserve our thanks, Bringing the murderous coward to the stake; He that conceals him, death. EDMUND When I dissuaded him from his intent And found him pight to do it, with curst speech I threatened to discover him. He replied "Thou unpossessing bastard, dost thou think If I would stand against thee, would the reposal Of any trust, virtue, or worth in thee Make thy words faithed? No. What I should deny-- As this I would, though thou didst produce My very character--I'd turn it all To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practice. And thou must make a dullard of the world If they not thought the profits of my death Were very pregnant and potential spurs To make thee seek it." GLOUCESTER O strange and fastened villain! Would he deny his letter, said he? I never got him. [Tucket within.] Hark, the Duke's trumpets. I know not why he comes. All ports I'll bar. The villain shall not 'scape. The Duke must grant me that. Besides, his picture I will send far and near, that all the kingdom May have due note of him. And of my land, Loyal and natural boy, I'll work the means To make thee capable. [Enter Cornwall, Regan, and Attendants.] CORNWALL How now, my noble friend? Since I came hither, Which I can call but now, I have heard strange news. REGAN If it be true, all vengeance comes too short Which can pursue th' offender. How dost, my lord? GLOUCESTER O madam, my old heart is cracked; it's cracked. REGAN What, did my father's godson seek your life? He whom my father named, your Edgar? GLOUCESTER O lady, lady, shame would have it hid! REGAN Was he not companion with the riotous knights That tended upon my father? GLOUCESTER I know not, madam. 'Tis too bad, too bad. EDMUND Yes, madam, he was of that consort. REGAN No marvel, then, though he were ill affected. 'Tis they have put him on the old man's death, To have th' expense and waste of his revenues. I have this present evening from my sister Been well informed of them, and with such cautions That if they come to sojourn at my house I'll not be there. CORNWALL Nor I, assure thee, Regan.-- Edmund, I hear that you have shown your father A childlike office. EDMUND It was my duty, sir. GLOUCESTER He did bewray his practice, and received This hurt you see striving to apprehend him. CORNWALL Is he pursued? GLOUCESTER Ay, my good lord. CORNWALL If he be taken, he shall never more Be feared of doing harm. Make your own purpose, How in my strength you please.--For you, Edmund, Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant So much commend itself, you shall be ours. Natures of such deep trust we shall much need. You we first seize on. EDMUND I shall serve you, sir, Truly, however else. GLOUCESTER For him I thank your Grace. CORNWALL You know not why we came to visit you-- REGAN Thus out of season, threading dark-eyed night. Occasions, noble Gloucester, of some poise, Wherein we must have use of your advice. Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister, Of differences, which I best thought it fit To answer from our home. The several messengers From hence attend dispatch. Our good old friend, Lay comforts to your bosom and bestow Your needful counsel to our businesses, Which craves the instant use. GLOUCESTER I serve you, madam. Your Graces are right welcome. [Flourish. They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Kent in disguise and Oswald, the Steward, severally.] OSWALD Good dawning to thee, friend. Art of this house? KENT Ay. OSWALD Where may we set our horses? KENT I' th' mire. OSWALD Prithee, if thou lov'st me, tell me. KENT I love thee not. OSWALD Why then, I care not for thee. KENT If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, I would make thee care for me. OSWALD Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee not. KENT Fellow, I know thee. OSWALD What dost thou know me for? KENT A knave, a rascal, an eater of broken meats; a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy worsted-stocking knave; a lily-livered, action-taking, whoreson, glass-gazing, superserviceable, finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd in way of good service, and art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pander, and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch; one whom I will beat into clamorous whining if thou deny'st the least syllable of thy addition. OSWALD Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou thus to rail on one that is neither known of thee nor knows thee! KENT What a brazen-faced varlet art thou to deny thou knowest me! Is it two days ago since I tripped up thy heels and beat thee before the King? [He draws his sword.] Draw, you rogue, for though it be night, yet the moon shines. I'll make a sop o' th' moonshine of you, you whoreson, cullionly barbermonger. Draw! OSWALD Away! I have nothing to do with thee. KENT Draw, you rascal! You come with letters against the King and take Vanity the puppet's part against the royalty of her father. Draw, you rogue, or I'll so carbonado your shanks! Draw, you rascal! Come your ways. OSWALD Help, ho! Murder! Help! KENT Strike, you slave! Stand, rogue! Stand, you neat slave! Strike! [He beats Oswald.] OSWALD Help, ho! Murder, murder! [Enter Bastard Edmund, with his rapier drawn, Cornwall, Regan, Gloucester, Servants.] EDMUND How now, what's the matter? Part! KENT With you, goodman boy, if you please. Come, I'll flesh you. Come on, young master. GLOUCESTER Weapons? Arms? What's the matter here? CORNWALL Keep peace, upon your lives! He dies that strikes again. What is the matter? REGAN The messengers from our sister and the King. CORNWALL What is your difference? Speak. OSWALD I am scarce in breath, my lord. KENT No marvel, you have so bestirred your valor. You cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in thee; a tailor made thee. CORNWALL Thou art a strange fellow. A tailor make a man? KENT A tailor, sir. A stonecutter or a painter could not have made him so ill, though they had been but two years o' th' trade. CORNWALL Speak yet, how grew your quarrel? OSWALD This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have spared at suit of his gray beard-- KENT Thou whoreson zed, thou unnecessary letter! --My lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread this unbolted villain into mortar and daub the wall of a jakes with him.--Spare my gray beard, you wagtail? CORNWALL Peace, sirrah! You beastly knave, know you no reverence? KENT Yes, sir, but anger hath a privilege. CORNWALL Why art thou angry? KENT That such a slave as this should wear a sword, Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these, Like rats, oft bite the holy cords atwain Which are too intrinse t' unloose; smooth every passion That in the natures of their lords rebel-- Being oil to fire, snow to the colder moods-- Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks With every gale and vary of their masters, Knowing naught, like dogs, but following.-- A plague upon your epileptic visage! Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool? Goose, if I had you upon Sarum plain, I'd drive you cackling home to Camelot. CORNWALL What, art thou mad, old fellow? GLOUCESTER How fell you out? Say that. KENT No contraries hold more antipathy Than I and such a knave. CORNWALL Why dost thou call him "knave"? What is his fault? KENT His countenance likes me not. CORNWALL No more, perchance, does mine, nor his, nor hers. KENT Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plain: I have seen better faces in my time Than stands on any shoulder that I see Before me at this instant. CORNWALL This is some fellow Who, having been praised for bluntness, doth affect A saucy roughness and constrains the garb Quite from his nature. He cannot flatter, he. An honest mind and plain, he must speak truth! An they will take it, so; if not, he's plain. These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness Harbor more craft and more corrupter ends Than twenty silly-ducking observants That stretch their duties nicely. KENT Sir, in good faith, in sincere verity, Under th' allowance of your great aspect, Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire On flick'ring Phoebus' front-- CORNWALL What mean'st by this? KENT To go out of my dialect, which you discommend so much. I know, sir, I am no flatterer. He that beguiled you in a plain accent was a plain knave, which for my part I will not be, though I should win your displeasure to entreat me to 't. CORNWALL, [to Oswald] What was th' offense you gave him? OSWALD I never gave him any. It pleased the King his master very late To strike at me, upon his misconstruction; When he, compact, and flattering his displeasure, Tripped me behind; being down, insulted, railed, And put upon him such a deal of man That worthied him, got praises of the King For him attempting who was self-subdued; And in the fleshment of this dread exploit, Drew on me here again. KENT None of these rogues and cowards But Ajax is their fool. CORNWALL Fetch forth the stocks.-- You stubborn ancient knave, you reverent braggart, We'll teach you. KENT Sir, I am too old to learn. Call not your stocks for me. I serve the King, On whose employment I was sent to you. You shall do small respect, show too bold malice Against the grace and person of my master, Stocking his messenger. CORNWALL Fetch forth the stocks.--As I have life and honor, There shall he sit till noon. REGAN Till noon? Till night, my lord, and all night, too. KENT Why, madam, if I were your father's dog, You should not use me so. REGAN Sir, being his knave, I will. CORNWALL This is a fellow of the selfsame color Our sister speaks of.--Come, bring away the stocks. [Stocks brought out.] GLOUCESTER Let me beseech your Grace not to do so. His fault is much, and the good king his master Will check him for 't. Your purposed low correction Is such as basest and contemned'st wretches For pilf'rings and most common trespasses Are punished with. The King must take it ill That he, so slightly valued in his messenger, Should have him thus restrained. CORNWALL I'll answer that. REGAN My sister may receive it much more worse To have her gentleman abused, assaulted For following her affairs.--Put in his legs. [Kent is put in the stocks.] CORNWALL Come, my good lord, away. [All but Gloucester and Kent exit.] GLOUCESTER I am sorry for thee, friend. 'Tis the Duke's pleasure, Whose disposition all the world well knows Will not be rubbed nor stopped. I'll entreat for thee. KENT Pray, do not, sir. I have watched and traveled hard. Some time I shall sleep out; the rest I'll whistle. A good man's fortune may grow out at heels. Give you good morrow. GLOUCESTER The Duke's to blame in this. 'Twill be ill taken. [He exits.] KENT Good king, that must approve the common saw, Thou out of heaven's benediction com'st To the warm sun. [He takes out a paper.] Approach, thou beacon to this under globe, That by thy comfortable beams I may Peruse this letter. Nothing almost sees miracles But misery. I know 'tis from Cordelia, Who hath most fortunately been informed Of my obscured course, and shall find time From this enormous state, seeking to give Losses their remedies. All weary and o'erwatched, Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold This shameful lodging. Fortune, good night. Smile once more; turn thy wheel. [Sleeps.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Edgar.] EDGAR I heard myself proclaimed, And by the happy hollow of a tree Escaped the hunt. No port is free; no place That guard and most unusual vigilance Does not attend my taking. Whiles I may 'scape, I will preserve myself, and am bethought To take the basest and most poorest shape That ever penury in contempt of man Brought near to beast. My face I'll grime with filth, Blanket my loins, elf all my hairs in knots, And with presented nakedness outface The winds and persecutions of the sky. The country gives me proof and precedent Of Bedlam beggars who with roaring voices Strike in their numbed and mortified arms Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary, And, with this horrible object, from low farms, Poor pelting villages, sheepcotes, and mills, Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers, Enforce their charity. "Poor Turlygod! Poor Tom!" That's something yet. "Edgar" I nothing am. [He exits.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Lear, Fool, and Gentleman.] LEAR 'Tis strange that they should so depart from home And not send back my messenger. GENTLEMAN As I learned, The night before there was no purpose in them Of this remove. KENT, [waking] Hail to thee, noble master. LEAR Ha? Mak'st thou this shame thy pastime? KENT No, my lord. FOOL Ha, ha, he wears cruel garters. Horses are tied by the heads, dogs and bears by th' neck, monkeys by th' loins, and men by th' legs. When a man's overlusty at legs, then he wears wooden netherstocks. LEAR What's he that hath so much thy place mistook To set thee here? KENT It is both he and she, Your son and daughter. LEAR No. KENT Yes. LEAR No, I say. KENT I say yea. LEAR By Jupiter, I swear no. KENTBy Juno, I swear ay. LEAR They durst not do 't. They could not, would not do 't. 'Tis worse than murder To do upon respect such violent outrage. Resolve me with all modest haste which way Thou might'st deserve or they impose this usage, Coming from us. KENT My lord, when at their home I did commend your Highness' letters to them, Ere I was risen from the place that showed My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post, Stewed in his haste, half breathless, panting forth From Goneril his mistress salutations; Delivered letters, spite of intermission, Which presently they read; on whose contents They summoned up their meiny, straight took horse, Commanded me to follow and attend The leisure of their answer, gave me cold looks; And meeting here the other messenger, Whose welcome, I perceived, had poisoned mine, Being the very fellow which of late Displayed so saucily against your Highness, Having more man than wit about me, drew. He raised the house with loud and coward cries. Your son and daughter found this trespass worth The shame which here it suffers. FOOL Winter's not gone yet if the wild geese fly that way. Fathers that wear rags Do make their children blind, But fathers that bear bags Shall see their children kind. Fortune, that arrant whore, Ne'er turns the key to th' poor. But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolors for thy daughters as thou canst tell in a year. LEAR O, how this mother swells up toward my heart! Hysterica passio, down, thou climbing sorrow! Thy element's below.--Where is this daughter? KENT With the Earl, sir, here within. LEAR, [to Fool and Gentleman] Follow me not. Stay here. [He exits.] GENTLEMAN Made you no more offense but what you speak of? KENT None. How chance the King comes with so small a number? FOOL An thou hadst been set i' th' stocks for that question, thou 'dst well deserved it. KENT Why, Fool? FOOL We'll set thee to school to an ant to teach thee there's no laboring i' th' winter. All that follow their noses are led by their eyes but blind men, and there's not a nose among twenty but can smell him that's stinking. Let go thy hold when a great wheel runs down a hill lest it break thy neck with following; but the great one that goes upward, let him draw thee after. When a wise man gives thee better counsel, give me mine again. I would have none but knaves follow it, since a Fool gives it. That sir which serves and seeks for gain, And follows but for form, Will pack when it begins to rain And leave thee in the storm. But I will tarry; the Fool will stay, And let the wise man fly. The knave turns fool that runs away; The Fool no knave, perdie. KENT Where learned you this, Fool? FOOL Not i' th' stocks, fool. [Enter Lear and Gloucester.] LEAR Deny to speak with me? They are sick? They are weary? They have traveled all the night? Mere fetches, The images of revolt and flying off. Fetch me a better answer. GLOUCESTER My dear lord, You know the fiery quality of the Duke, How unremovable and fixed he is In his own course. LEAR Vengeance, plague, death, confusion! "Fiery"? What "quality"? Why Gloucester, Gloucester, I'd speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife. GLOUCESTER Well, my good lord, I have informed them so. LEAR "Informed them"? Dost thou understand me, man? GLOUCESTER Ay, my good lord. LEAR The King would speak with Cornwall. The dear father Would with his daughter speak, commands, tends service. Are they "informed" of this? My breath and blood! "Fiery"? The "fiery" duke? Tell the hot duke that-- No, but not yet. Maybe he is not well. Infirmity doth still neglect all office Whereto our health is bound. We are not ourselves When nature, being oppressed, commands the mind To suffer with the body. I'll forbear, And am fallen out with my more headier will, To take the indisposed and sickly fit For the sound man. [Noticing Kent again.] Death on my state! Wherefore Should he sit here? This act persuades me That this remotion of the Duke and her Is practice only. Give me my servant forth. Go tell the Duke and 's wife I'd speak with them. Now, presently, bid them come forth and hear me, Or at their chamber door I'll beat the drum Till it cry sleep to death. GLOUCESTER I would have all well betwixt you. [He exits.] LEAR O me, my heart, my rising heart! But down! FOOL Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels when she put 'em i' th' paste alive. She knapped 'em o' th' coxcombs with a stick and cried "Down, wantons, down!" 'Twas her brother that in pure kindness to his horse buttered his hay. [Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gloucester, Servants.] LEAR Good morrow to you both. CORNWALL Hail to your Grace. [Kent here set at liberty.] REGAN I am glad to see your Highness. LEAR Regan, I think you are. I know what reason I have to think so: if thou shouldst not be glad, I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb, Sepulch'ring an adult'ress. [To Kent.] O, are you free? Some other time for that.--Beloved Regan, Thy sister's naught. O Regan, she hath tied Sharp-toothed unkindness, like a vulture, here. I can scarce speak to thee. Thou 'lt not believe With how depraved a quality--O Regan! REGAN I pray you, sir, take patience. I have hope You less know how to value her desert Than she to scant her duty. LEAR Say? How is that? REGAN I cannot think my sister in the least Would fail her obligation. If, sir, perchance She have restrained the riots of your followers, 'Tis on such ground and to such wholesome end As clears her from all blame. LEAR My curses on her. REGAN O sir, you are old. Nature in you stands on the very verge Of his confine. You should be ruled and led By some discretion that discerns your state Better than you yourself. Therefore, I pray you That to our sister you do make return. Say you have wronged her. LEAR Ask her forgiveness? Do you but mark how this becomes the house: [He kneels.] "Dear daughter, I confess that I am old. Age is unnecessary. On my knees I beg That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food." REGAN Good sir, no more. These are unsightly tricks. Return you to my sister. LEAR, [rising] Never, Regan. She hath abated me of half my train, Looked black upon me, struck me with her tongue Most serpentlike upon the very heart. All the stored vengeances of heaven fall On her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones, You taking airs, with lameness! CORNWALL Fie, sir, fie! LEAR You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames Into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty, You fen-sucked fogs drawn by the powerful sun To fall and blister! REGAN O, the blest gods! So will you wish on me When the rash mood is on. LEAR No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse. Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give Thee o'er to harshness. Her eyes are fierce, but thine Do comfort and not burn. 'Tis not in thee To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train, To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes, And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt Against my coming in. Thou better know'st The offices of nature, bond of childhood, Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude. Thy half o' th' kingdom hast thou not forgot, Wherein I thee endowed. REGAN Good sir, to th' purpose. [Tucket within.] LEAR Who put my man i' th' stocks? CORNWALL What trumpet's that? REGAN I know 't--my sister's. This approves her letter, That she would soon be here. [Enter Oswald, the Steward.] Is your lady come? LEAR This is a slave whose easy-borrowed pride Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows.-- Out, varlet, from my sight! CORNWALL What means your Grace? LEAR Who stocked my servant? Regan, I have good hope Thou didst not know on 't. [Enter Goneril.] Who comes here? O heavens, If you do love old men, if your sweet sway Allow obedience, if you yourselves are old, Make it your cause. Send down and take my part. [To Goneril.] Art not ashamed to look upon this beard? [Regan takes Goneril's hand.] O Regan, will you take her by the hand? GONERIL Why not by th' hand, sir? How have I offended? All's not offense that indiscretion finds And dotage terms so. LEAR O sides, you are too tough! Will you yet hold?--How came my man i' th' stocks? CORNWALL I set him there, sir, but his own disorders Deserved much less advancement. LEAR You? Did you? REGAN I pray you, father, being weak, seem so. If till the expiration of your month You will return and sojourn with my sister, Dismissing half your train, come then to me. I am now from home and out of that provision Which shall be needful for your entertainment. LEAR Return to her? And fifty men dismissed? No! Rather I abjure all roofs, and choose To wage against the enmity o' th' air, To be a comrade with the wolf and owl, Necessity's sharp pinch. Return with her? Why the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took Our youngest born--I could as well be brought To knee his throne and, squire-like, pension beg To keep base life afoot. Return with her? Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter To this detested groom. [He indicates Oswald.] GONERIL At your choice, sir. LEAR I prithee, daughter, do not make me mad. I will not trouble thee, my child. Farewell. We'll no more meet, no more see one another. But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter, Or, rather, a disease that's in my flesh, Which I must needs call mine. Thou art a boil, A plague-sore or embossed carbuncle In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee. Let shame come when it will; I do not call it. I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot, Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove. Mend when thou canst. Be better at thy leisure. I can be patient. I can stay with Regan, I and my hundred knights. REGAN Not altogether so. I looked not for you yet, nor am provided For your fit welcome. Give ear, sir, to my sister, For those that mingle reason with your passion Must be content to think you old, and so-- But she knows what she does. LEAR Is this well spoken? REGAN I dare avouch it, sir. What, fifty followers? Is it not well? What should you need of more? Yea, or so many, sith that both charge and danger Speak 'gainst so great a number? How in one house Should many people under two commands Hold amity? 'Tis hard, almost impossible. GONERIL Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance From those that she calls servants, or from mine? REGAN Why not, my lord? If then they chanced to slack you, We could control them. If you will come to me (For now I spy a danger), I entreat you To bring but five-and-twenty. To no more Will I give place or notice. LEAR I gave you all-- REGAN And in good time you gave it. LEAR Made you my guardians, my depositaries, But kept a reservation to be followed With such a number. What, must I come to you With five-and-twenty? Regan, said you so? REGAN And speak 't again, my lord. No more with me. LEAR Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favored When others are more wicked. Not being the worst Stands in some rank of praise. [To Goneril.] I'll go with thee. Thy fifty yet doth double five-and-twenty, And thou art twice her love. GONERIL Hear me, my lord. What need you five-and-twenty, ten, or five, To follow in a house where twice so many Have a command to tend you? REGAN What need one? LEAR O, reason not the need! Our basest beggars Are in the poorest thing superfluous. Allow not nature more than nature needs, Man's life is cheap as beast's. Thou art a lady; If only to go warm were gorgeous, Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st, Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But, for true need-- You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need! You see me here, you gods, a poor old man As full of grief as age, wretched in both. If it be you that stirs these daughters' hearts Against their father, fool me not so much To bear it tamely. Touch me with noble anger, And let not women's weapons, water drops, Stain my man's cheeks.--No, you unnatural hags, I will have such revenges on you both That all the world shall--I will do such things-- What they are yet I know not, but they shall be The terrors of the Earth! You think I'll weep. No, I'll not weep. I have full cause of weeping, but this heart [Storm and tempest.] Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws Or ere I'll weep.--O Fool, I shall go mad! [Lear, Kent, and Fool exit with Gloucester and the Gentleman.] CORNWALL Let us withdraw. 'Twill be a storm. REGAN This house is little. The old man and 's people Cannot be well bestowed. GONERIL 'Tis his own blame hath put himself from rest, And must needs taste his folly. REGAN For his particular, I'll receive him gladly, But not one follower. GONERIL So am I purposed. Where is my lord of Gloucester? CORNWALL Followed the old man forth. [Enter Gloucester.] He is returned. GLOUCESTER The King is in high rage. CORNWALL Whither is he going? GLOUCESTER He calls to horse, but will I know not whither. CORNWALL 'Tis best to give him way. He leads himself. GONERIL, [to Gloucester] My lord, entreat him by no means to stay. GLOUCESTER Alack, the night comes on, and the high winds Do sorely ruffle. For many miles about There's scarce a bush. REGAN O sir, to willful men The injuries that they themselves procure Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors. He is attended with a desperate train, And what they may incense him to, being apt To have his ear abused, wisdom bids fear. CORNWALL Shut up your doors, my lord. 'Tis a wild night. My Regan counsels well. Come out o' th' storm. [They exit.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Storm still. Enter Kent in disguise, and a Gentleman, severally.] KENT Who's there, besides foul weather? GENTLEMAN One minded like the weather, most unquietly. KENT I know you. Where's the King? GENTLEMAN Contending with the fretful elements; Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main, That things might change or cease; tears his white hair, Which the impetuous blasts with eyeless rage Catch in their fury and make nothing of; Strives in his little world of man to outscorn The to-and-fro conflicting wind and rain. This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch, The lion and the belly-pinched wolf Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs And bids what will take all. KENT But who is with him? GENTLEMAN None but the Fool, who labors to outjest His heart-struck injuries. KENT Sir, I do know you And dare upon the warrant of my note Commend a dear thing to you. There is division, Although as yet the face of it is covered With mutual cunning, 'twixt Albany and Cornwall, Who have--as who have not, that their great stars Throned and set high?--servants, who seem no less, Which are to France the spies and speculations Intelligent of our state. From France there comes a power Into this scattered kingdom, who already, Wise in our negligence, have secret feet In some of our best ports and are at point To show their open banner. Now to you: If on my credit you dare build so far To make your speed to Dover, you shall find Some that will thank you, making just report Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow The King hath cause to plain: what hath been seen, Either in snuffs and packings of the dukes, Or the hard rein which both of them hath borne Against the old kind king, or something deeper, Whereof perchance these are but furnishings. I am a gentleman of blood and breeding, And from some knowledge and assurance offer This office to you. GENTLEMAN I will talk further with you. KENT No, do not. For confirmation that I am much more Than my outwall, open this purse and take What it contains. [Kent hands him a purse and a ring.] If you shall see Cordelia (As fear not but you shall), show her this ring, And she will tell you who that fellow is That yet you do not know. Fie on this storm! I will go seek the King. GENTLEMAN Give me your hand. Have you no more to say? KENT Few words, but, to effect, more than all yet: That when we have found the King--in which your pain That way, I'll this--he that first lights on him Holla the other. [They exit separately.] Scene 2 ======= [Storm still. Enter Lear and Fool.] LEAR Blow winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage, blow! You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout Till you have drenched our steeples, drowned the cocks. You sulph'rous and thought-executing fires, Vaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving thunderbolts, Singe my white head. And thou, all-shaking thunder, Strike flat the thick rotundity o' th' world. Crack nature's molds, all germens spill at once That makes ingrateful man. FOOL O nuncle, court holy water in a dry house is better than this rainwater out o' door. Good nuncle, in. Ask thy daughters' blessing. Here's a night pities neither wise men nor fools. LEAR Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! Spout, rain! Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire are my daughters. I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness. I never gave you kingdom, called you children; You owe me no subscription. Then let fall Your horrible pleasure. Here I stand your slave, A poor, infirm, weak, and despised old man. But yet I call you servile ministers, That will with two pernicious daughters join Your high-engendered battles 'gainst a head So old and white as this. O, ho, 'tis foul! FOOL He that has a house to put 's head in has a good headpiece. The codpiece that will house Before the head has any, The head and he shall louse; So beggars marry many. The man that makes his toe What he his heart should make, Shall of a corn cry woe, And turn his sleep to wake. For there was never yet fair woman but she made mouths in a glass. LEAR No, I will be the pattern of all patience. I will say nothing. [Enter Kent in disguise.] KENT Who's there? FOOL Marry, here's grace and a codpiece; that's a wise man and a fool. KENT Alas, sir, are you here? Things that love night Love not such nights as these. The wrathful skies Gallow the very wanderers of the dark And make them keep their caves. Since I was man, Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder, Such groans of roaring wind and rain I never Remember to have heard. Man's nature cannot carry Th' affliction nor the fear. LEAR Let the great gods That keep this dreadful pudder o'er our heads Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch, That hast within thee undivulged crimes Unwhipped of justice. Hide thee, thou bloody hand, Thou perjured, and thou simular of virtue That art incestuous. Caitiff, to pieces shake, That under covert and convenient seeming Has practiced on man's life. Close pent-up guilts, Rive your concealing continents and cry These dreadful summoners grace. I am a man More sinned against than sinning. KENT Alack, bareheaded? Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel. Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest. Repose you there while I to this hard house-- More harder than the stones whereof 'tis raised, Which even but now, demanding after you, Denied me to come in--return and force Their scanted courtesy. LEAR My wits begin to turn.-- Come on, my boy. How dost, my boy? Art cold? I am cold myself.--Where is this straw, my fellow? The art of our necessities is strange And can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel.-- Poor Fool and knave, I have one part in my heart That's sorry yet for thee. FOOL [sings] He that has and a little tiny wit, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, Must make content with his fortunes fit, Though the rain it raineth every day. LEAR True, my good boy.--Come, bring us to this hovel. [Lear and Kent exit.] FOOL This is a brave night to cool a courtesan. I'll speak a prophecy ere I go: When priests are more in word than matter, When brewers mar their malt with water, When nobles are their tailors' tutors, No heretics burned but wenches' suitors, When every case in law is right, No squire in debt, nor no poor knight; When slanders do not live in tongues, Nor cutpurses come not to throngs, When usurers tell their gold i' th' field, And bawds and whores do churches build, Then shall the realm of Albion Come to great confusion; Then comes the time, who lives to see 't, That going shall be used with feet. This prophecy Merlin shall make, for I live before his time. [He exits.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Gloucester and Edmund.] GLOUCESTER Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this unnatural dealing. When I desired their leave that I might pity him, they took from me the use of mine own house, charged me on pain of perpetual displeasure neither to speak of him, entreat for him, or any way sustain him. EDMUND Most savage and unnatural. GLOUCESTER Go to; say you nothing. There is division between the dukes, and a worse matter than that. I have received a letter this night; 'tis dangerous to be spoken; I have locked the letter in my closet. These injuries the King now bears will be revenged home; there is part of a power already footed. We must incline to the King. I will look him and privily relieve him. Go you and maintain talk with the Duke, that my charity be not of him perceived. If he ask for me, I am ill and gone to bed. If I die for it, as no less is threatened me, the King my old master must be relieved. There is strange things toward, Edmund. Pray you, be careful. [He exits.] EDMUND This courtesy forbid thee shall the Duke Instantly know, and of that letter too. This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me That which my father loses--no less than all. The younger rises when the old doth fall. [He exits.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Lear, Kent in disguise, and Fool.] KENT Here is the place, my lord. Good my lord, enter. The tyranny of the open night 's too rough For nature to endure. [Storm still.] LEAR Let me alone. KENT Good my lord, enter here. LEAR Wilt break my heart? KENT I had rather break mine own. Good my lord, enter. LEAR Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious storm Invades us to the skin. So 'tis to thee. But where the greater malady is fixed, The lesser is scarce felt. Thou 'dst shun a bear, But if thy flight lay toward the roaring sea, Thou 'dst meet the bear i' th' mouth. When the mind's free, The body's delicate. This tempest in my mind Doth from my senses take all feeling else Save what beats there. Filial ingratitude! Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand For lifting food to 't? But I will punish home. No, I will weep no more. In such a night To shut me out? Pour on. I will endure. In such a night as this? O Regan, Goneril, Your old kind father whose frank heart gave all! O, that way madness lies. Let me shun that; No more of that. KENT Good my lord, enter here. LEAR Prithee, go in thyself. Seek thine own ease. This tempest will not give me leave to ponder On things would hurt me more. But I'll go in.-- In, boy; go first.--You houseless poverty-- Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep. [Fool exits.] Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, Your looped and windowed raggedness defend you From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en Too little care of this. Take physic, pomp. Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, That thou may'st shake the superflux to them And show the heavens more just. EDGAR [within] Fathom and half, fathom and half! Poor Tom! [Enter Fool.] FOOL Come not in here, nuncle; here's a spirit. Help me, help me! KENT Give me thy hand. Who's there? FOOL A spirit, a spirit! He says his name's Poor Tom. KENT What art thou that dost grumble there i' th' straw? Come forth. [Enter Edgar in disguise.] EDGAR Away. The foul fiend follows me. Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind. Hum! Go to thy cold bed and warm thee. LEAR Didst thou give all to thy daughters? And art thou come to this? EDGAR Who gives anything to Poor Tom, whom the foul fiend hath led through fire and through flame, through ford and whirlpool, o'er bog and quagmire; that hath laid knives under his pillow and halters in his pew, set ratsbane by his porridge, made him proud of heart to ride on a bay trotting horse over four-inched bridges to course his own shadow for a traitor? Bless thy five wits! Tom's a-cold. O, do de, do de, do de. Bless thee from whirlwinds, star-blasting, and taking! Do Poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes. There could I have him now, and there--and there again --and there. [Storm still.] LEAR Has his daughters brought him to this pass?-- Couldst thou save nothing? Wouldst thou give 'em all? FOOL Nay, he reserved a blanket, else we had been all shamed. LEAR Now all the plagues that in the pendulous air Hang fated o'er men's faults light on thy daughters! KENT He hath no daughters, sir. LEAR Death, traitor! Nothing could have subdued nature To such a lowness but his unkind daughters. Is it the fashion that discarded fathers Should have thus little mercy on their flesh? Judicious punishment! 'Twas this flesh begot Those pelican daughters. EDGAR Pillicock sat on Pillicock Hill. Alow, alow, loo, loo. FOOL This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen. EDGAR Take heed o' th' foul fiend. Obey thy parents, keep thy word's justice, swear not, commit not with man's sworn spouse, set not thy sweet heart on proud array. Tom's a-cold. LEAR What hast thou been? EDGAR A servingman, proud in heart and mind, that curled my hair, wore gloves in my cap, served the lust of my mistress' heart and did the act of darkness with her, swore as many oaths as I spake words and broke them in the sweet face of heaven; one that slept in the contriving of lust and waked to do it. Wine loved I deeply, dice dearly, and in woman out-paramoured the Turk. False of heart, light of ear, bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey. Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustling of silks betray thy poor heart to woman. Keep thy foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen from lenders' books, and defy the foul fiend. Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind; says suum, mun, nonny. Dolphin my boy, boy, sessa! Let him trot by. [Storm still.] LEAR Thou wert better in a grave than to answer with thy uncovered body this extremity of the skies.--Is man no more than this? Consider him well.--Thou ow'st the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha, here's three on 's are sophisticated. Thou art the thing itself; unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings! Come, unbutton here. [Tearing off his clothes.] FOOL Prithee, nuncle, be contented. 'Tis a naughty night to swim in. Now, a little fire in a wild field were like an old lecher's heart--a small spark, all the rest on 's body cold. [Enter Gloucester, with a torch.] Look, here comes a walking fire. EDGAR This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet. He begins at curfew and walks till the first cock. He gives the web and the pin, squints the eye, and makes the harelip, mildews the white wheat, and hurts the poor creature of earth. Swithold footed thrice the 'old, He met the nightmare and her ninefold, Bid her alight, And her troth plight, And aroint thee, witch, aroint thee. KENT How fares your Grace? LEAR What's he? KENT Who's there? What is 't you seek? GLOUCESTER What are you there? Your names? EDGAR Poor Tom, that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the tadpole, the wall newt, and the water; that, in the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend rages, eats cow dung for sallets, swallows the old rat and the ditch-dog, drinks the green mantle of the standing pool; who is whipped from tithing to tithing, and stocked, punished, and imprisoned; who hath had three suits to his back, six shirts to his body, Horse to ride, and weapon to wear; But mice and rats and such small deer Have been Tom's food for seven long year. Beware my follower. Peace, Smulkin! Peace, thou fiend! GLOUCESTER, [to Lear] What, hath your Grace no better company? EDGAR The Prince of Darkness is a gentleman. Modo he's called, and Mahu. GLOUCESTER, [to Lear] Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown so vile That it doth hate what gets it. EDGAR Poor Tom's a-cold. GLOUCESTER, [to Lear] Go in with me. My duty cannot suffer T' obey in all your daughters' hard commands. Though their injunction be to bar my doors And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you, Yet have I ventured to come seek you out And bring you where both fire and food is ready. LEAR First let me talk with this philosopher. [To Edgar.] What is the cause of thunder? KENT Good my lord, take his offer; go into th' house. LEAR I'll talk a word with this same learned Theban.-- What is your study? EDGAR How to prevent the fiend and to kill vermin. LEAR Let me ask you one word in private. [They talk aside.] KENT, [to Gloucester] Importune him once more to go, my lord. His wits begin t' unsettle. GLOUCESTER Canst thou blame him? [Storm still.] His daughters seek his death. Ah, that good Kent! He said it would be thus, poor banished man. Thou sayest the King grows mad; I'll tell thee, friend, I am almost mad myself. I had a son, Now outlawed from my blood. He sought my life But lately, very late. I loved him, friend, No father his son dearer. True to tell thee, The grief hath crazed my wits. What a night's this! --I do beseech your Grace-- LEAR O, cry you mercy, sir. [To Edgar.] Noble philosopher, your company. EDGAR Tom's a-cold. GLOUCESTER, [to Edgar] In fellow, there, into th' hovel. Keep thee warm. LEARCome, let's in all. KENT This way, my lord. LEAR, [indicating Edgar] With him. I will keep still with my philosopher. KENT, [to Gloucester] Good my lord, soothe him. Let him take the fellow. GLOUCESTER, [to Kent] Take him you on. KENT, [to Edgar] Sirrah, come on: go along with us. LEAR Come, good Athenian. GLOUCESTER No words, no words. Hush. EDGAR Child Rowland to the dark tower came. His word was still "Fie, foh, and fum, I smell the blood of a British man." [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Cornwall, and Edmund with a paper.] CORNWALL I will have my revenge ere I depart his house. EDMUND How, my lord, I may be censured, that nature thus gives way to loyalty, something fears me to think of. CORNWALL I now perceive it was not altogether your brother's evil disposition made him seek his death, but a provoking merit set awork by a reprovable badness in himself. EDMUND How malicious is my fortune that I must repent to be just! This is the letter he spoke of, which approves him an intelligent party to the advantages of France. O heavens, that this treason were not, or not I the detector. CORNWALL Go with me to the Duchess. EDMUND If the matter of this paper be certain, you have mighty business in hand. CORNWALL True or false, it hath made thee Earl of Gloucester. Seek out where thy father is, that he may be ready for our apprehension. EDMUND, [aside] If I find him comforting the King, it will stuff his suspicion more fully.--I will persevere in my course of loyalty, though the conflict be sore between that and my blood. CORNWALL I will lay trust upon thee, and thou shalt find a dearer father in my love. [They exit.] Scene 6 ======= [Enter Kent in disguise, and Gloucester.] GLOUCESTER Here is better than the open air. Take it thankfully. I will piece out the comfort with what addition I can. I will not be long from you. KENT All the power of his wits have given way to his impatience. The gods reward your kindness! [Gloucester exits.] [Enter Lear, Edgar in disguise, and Fool.] EDGAR Frateretto calls me and tells me Nero is an angler in the lake of darkness. Pray, innocent, and beware the foul fiend. FOOL Prithee, nuncle, tell me whether a madman be a gentleman or a yeoman. LEAR A king, a king! FOOL No, he's a yeoman that has a gentleman to his son, for he's a mad yeoman that sees his son a gentleman before him. LEAR To have a thousand with red burning spits Come hissing in upon 'em! EDGAR The foul fiend bites my back. FOOL He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf, a horse's health, a boy's love, or a whore's oath. LEAR It shall be done. I will arraign them straight. [To Edgar.] Come, sit thou here, most learned justice. [To Fool.] Thou sapient sir, sit here. Now, you she-foxes-- EDGAR Look where he stands and glares!--Want'st thou eyes at trial, madam? [Sings.] Come o'er the burn, Bessy, to me-- FOOL [sings] Her boat hath a leak, And she must not speak Why she dares not come over to thee. EDGAR The foul fiend haunts Poor Tom in the voice of a nightingale. Hoppedance cries in Tom's belly for two white herring.--Croak not, black angel. I have no food for thee. KENT, [to Lear] How do you, sir? Stand you not so amazed. Will you lie down and rest upon the cushions? LEAR I'll see their trial first. Bring in their evidence. [To Edgar.] Thou robed man of justice, take thy place, [To Fool.] And thou, his yokefellow of equity, Bench by his side. [To Kent.] You are o' th' commission; Sit you, too. EDGAR Let us deal justly. [Sings.] Sleepest or wakest, thou jolly shepherd? Thy sheep be in the corn. And for one blast of thy minikin mouth, Thy sheep shall take no harm. Purr the cat is gray. LEAR Arraign her first; 'tis Goneril. I here take my oath before this honorable assembly, kicked the poor king her father. FOOL Come hither, mistress. Is your name Goneril? LEAR She cannot deny it. FOOL Cry you mercy, I took you for a joint stool. LEAR And here's another whose warped looks proclaim What store her heart is made on. Stop her there! Arms, arms, sword, fire! Corruption in the place! False justicer, why hast thou let her 'scape? EDGAR Bless thy five wits! KENT, [to Lear] O pity! Sir, where is the patience now That you so oft have boasted to retain? EDGAR, [aside] My tears begin to take his part so much They mar my counterfeiting. LEAR The little dogs and all, Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart, see, they bark at me. EDGAR Tom will throw his head at them.--Avaunt, you curs! Be thy mouth or black or white, Tooth that poisons if it bite, Mastiff, greyhound, mongrel grim, Hound or spaniel, brach, or lym, Bobtail tike, or trundle-tail, Tom will make him weep and wail; For, with throwing thus my head, Dogs leapt the hatch, and all are fled. Do de, de, de. Sessa! Come, march to wakes and fairs and market towns. Poor Tom, thy horn is dry. LEAR Then let them anatomize Regan; see what breeds about her heart. Is there any cause in nature that make these hard hearts? [To Edgar.] You, sir, I entertain for one of my hundred; only I do not like the fashion of your garments. You will say they are Persian, but let them be changed. KENT Now, good my lord, lie here and rest awhile. LEAR, [lying down] Make no noise, make no noise. Draw the curtains. So, so, we'll go to supper i' th' morning. FOOL And I'll go to bed at noon. [Enter Gloucester.] GLOUCESTER, [to Kent] Come hither, friend. Where is the King my master? KENT Here, sir, but trouble him not; his wits are gone. GLOUCESTER Good friend, I prithee, take him in thy arms. I have o'erheard a plot of death upon him. There is a litter ready; lay him in 't, And drive toward Dover, friend, where thou shalt meet Both welcome and protection. Take up thy master. If thou shouldst dally half an hour, his life, With thine and all that offer to defend him, Stand in assured loss. Take up, take up, And follow me, that will to some provision Give thee quick conduct. KENT Oppressed nature sleeps. This rest might yet have balmed thy broken sinews, Which, if convenience will not allow, Stand in hard cure. [To the Fool.] Come, help to bear thy master. Thou must not stay behind. GLOUCESTER Come, come away. [All but Edgar exit, carrying Lear.] EDGAR When we our betters see bearing our woes, We scarcely think our miseries our foes. Who alone suffers suffers most i' th' mind, Leaving free things and happy shows behind. But then the mind much sufferance doth o'erskip When grief hath mates and bearing fellowship. How light and portable my pain seems now When that which makes me bend makes the King bow! He childed as I fathered. Tom, away. Mark the high noises, and thyself bewray When false opinion, whose wrong thoughts defile thee, In thy just proof repeals and reconciles thee. What will hap more tonight, safe 'scape the King! Lurk, lurk. [He exits.] Scene 7 ======= [Enter Cornwall, Regan, Goneril, Edmund, the Bastard, and Servants.] CORNWALL, [to Goneril] Post speedily to my lord your husband. Show him this letter. [He gives her a paper.] The army of France is landed.--Seek out the traitor Gloucester. [Some Servants exit.] REGAN Hang him instantly. GONERIL Pluck out his eyes. CORNWALL Leave him to my displeasure.--Edmund, keep you our sister company. The revenges we are bound to take upon your traitorous father are not fit for your beholding. Advise the Duke, where you are going, to a most festinate preparation; we are bound to the like. Our posts shall be swift and intelligent betwixt us.--Farewell, dear sister.-- Farewell, my lord of Gloucester. [Enter Oswald, the Steward.] How now? Where's the King? OSWALD My lord of Gloucester hath conveyed him hence. Some five- or six-and-thirty of his knights, Hot questrists after him, met him at gate, Who, with some other of the lord's dependents, Are gone with him toward Dover, where they boast To have well-armed friends. CORNWALL Get horses for your mistress. [Oswald exits.] GONERIL Farewell, sweet lord, and sister. CORNWALL Edmund, farewell. [Goneril and Edmund exit.] Go seek the traitor Gloucester. Pinion him like a thief; bring him before us. [Some Servants exit.] Though well we may not pass upon his life Without the form of justice, yet our power Shall do a court'sy to our wrath, which men May blame but not control. [Enter Gloucester and Servants.] Who's there? The traitor? REGAN Ingrateful fox! 'Tis he. CORNWALL Bind fast his corky arms. GLOUCESTER What means your Graces? Good my friends, consider You are my guests; do me no foul play, friends. CORNWALL Bind him, I say. REGAN Hard, hard. O filthy traitor! GLOUCESTER Unmerciful lady as you are, I'm none. CORNWALL To this chair bind him. [Servants bind Gloucester.] Villain, thou shalt find-- [Regan plucks Gloucester's beard.] GLOUCESTER By the kind gods, 'tis most ignobly done To pluck me by the beard. REGAN So white, and such a traitor? GLOUCESTER Naughty lady, These hairs which thou dost ravish from my chin Will quicken and accuse thee. I am your host; With robber's hands my hospitable favors You should not ruffle thus. What will you do? CORNWALL Come, sir, what letters had you late from France? REGAN Be simple-answered, for we know the truth. CORNWALL And what confederacy have you with the traitors Late footed in the kingdom? REGAN To whose hands You have sent the lunatic king. Speak. GLOUCESTER I have a letter guessingly set down Which came from one that's of a neutral heart, And not from one opposed. CORNWALL Cunning. REGAN And false. CORNWALL Where hast thou sent the King? GLOUCESTER To Dover. REGAN Wherefore to Dover? Wast thou not charged at peril-- CORNWALL Wherefore to Dover? Let him answer that. GLOUCESTER I am tied to th' stake, and I must stand the course. REGAN Wherefore to Dover? GLOUCESTER Because I would not see thy cruel nails Pluck out his poor old eyes, nor thy fierce sister In his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs. The sea, with such a storm as his bare head In hell-black night endured, would have buoyed up And quenched the stelled fires; Yet, poor old heart, he holp the heavens to rain. If wolves had at thy gate howled that stern time, Thou shouldst have said "Good porter, turn the key." All cruels else subscribe. But I shall see The winged vengeance overtake such children. CORNWALL See 't shalt thou never.--Fellows, hold the chair.-- Upon these eyes of thine I'll set my foot. GLOUCESTER He that will think to live till he be old, Give me some help! [As Servants hold the chair, Cornwall forces out one of Gloucester's eyes.] O cruel! O you gods! REGAN One side will mock another. Th' other too. CORNWALL If you see vengeance-- FIRST SERVANT Hold your hand, my lord. I have served you ever since I was a child, But better service have I never done you Than now to bid you hold. REGAN How now, you dog? FIRST SERVANT If you did wear a beard upon your chin, I'd shake it on this quarrel. What do you mean? CORNWALL My villain? [Draw and fight.] FIRST SERVANT Nay, then, come on, and take the chance of anger. REGAN, [to an Attendant] Give me thy sword. A peasant stand up thus? [She takes a sword and runs at him behind; kills him.] FIRST SERVANT O, I am slain! My lord, you have one eye left To see some mischief on him. O! [He dies.] CORNWALL Lest it see more, prevent it. Out, vile jelly! [Forcing out Gloucester's other eye.] Where is thy luster now? GLOUCESTER All dark and comfortless! Where's my son Edmund?-- Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature To quit this horrid act. REGAN Out, treacherous villain! Thou call'st on him that hates thee. It was he That made the overture of thy treasons to us, Who is too good to pity thee. GLOUCESTER O my follies! Then Edgar was abused. Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him. REGAN Go thrust him out at gates, and let him smell His way to Dover. [Some Servants exit with Gloucester.] How is 't, my lord? How look you? CORNWALL I have received a hurt. Follow me, lady.-- Turn out that eyeless villain. Throw this slave Upon the dunghill.--Regan, I bleed apace. Untimely comes this hurt. Give me your arm. [Cornwall and Regan exit.] SECOND SERVANT I'll never care what wickedness I do If this man come to good. THIRD SERVANT If she live long And in the end meet the old course of death, Women will all turn monsters. SECOND SERVANT Let's follow the old earl and get the Bedlam To lead him where he would. His roguish madness Allows itself to anything. THIRD SERVANT Go thou. I'll fetch some flax and whites of eggs To apply to his bleeding face. Now heaven help him! [They exit.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Edgar in disguise.] EDGAR Yet better thus, and known to be contemned, Than still contemned and flattered. To be worst, The lowest and most dejected thing of Fortune, Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear. The lamentable change is from the best; The worst returns to laughter. Welcome, then, Thou unsubstantial air that I embrace. The wretch that thou hast blown unto the worst Owes nothing to thy blasts. But who comes here? [Enter Gloucester and an old man.] My father, poorly led? World, world, O world, But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee, Life would not yield to age. OLD MAN O my good lord, I have been your tenant And your father's tenant these fourscore years. GLOUCESTER Away, get thee away. Good friend, begone. Thy comforts can do me no good at all; Thee they may hurt. OLD MAN You cannot see your way. GLOUCESTER I have no way and therefore want no eyes. I stumbled when I saw. Full oft 'tis seen Our means secure us, and our mere defects Prove our commodities. O dear son Edgar, The food of thy abused father's wrath, Might I but live to see thee in my touch, I'd say I had eyes again. OLD MAN How now? Who's there? EDGAR, [aside] O gods, who is 't can say "I am at the worst"? I am worse than e'er I was. OLD MAN 'Tis poor mad Tom. EDGAR, [aside] And worse I may be yet. The worst is not So long as we can say "This is the worst." OLD MAN Fellow, where goest? GLOUCESTER Is it a beggar-man? OLD MAN Madman and beggar too. GLOUCESTER He has some reason, else he could not beg. I' th' last night's storm, I such a fellow saw, Which made me think a man a worm. My son Came then into my mind, and yet my mind Was then scarce friends with him. I have heard more since. As flies to wanton boys are we to th' gods; They kill us for their sport. EDGAR, [aside] How should this be? Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow, Ang'ring itself and others.--Bless thee, master. GLOUCESTER Is that the naked fellow? OLD MAN Ay, my lord. GLOUCESTER Then, prithee, get thee away. If for my sake Thou wilt o'ertake us hence a mile or twain I' th' way toward Dover, do it for ancient love, And bring some covering for this naked soul, Which I'll entreat to lead me. OLD MAN Alack, sir, he is mad. GLOUCESTER 'Tis the time's plague when madmen lead the blind. Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure. Above the rest, begone. OLD MAN I'll bring him the best 'parel that I have, Come on 't what will. [He exits.] GLOUCESTER Sirrah, naked fellow-- EDGAR Poor Tom's a-cold. [Aside.] I cannot daub it further. GLOUCESTER Come hither, fellow. EDGAR, [aside] And yet I must.--Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed. GLOUCESTER Know'st thou the way to Dover? EDGAR Both stile and gate, horseway and footpath. Poor Tom hath been scared out of his good wits. Bless thee, good man's son, from the foul fiend. Five fiends have been in Poor Tom at once: of lust, as Obidicut; Hobbididance, prince of dumbness; Mahu, of stealing; Modo, of murder; Flibbertigibbet, of mopping and mowing, who since possesses chambermaids and waiting women. So, bless thee, master. GLOUCESTER, [giving him money] Here, take this purse, thou whom the heavens' plagues Have humbled to all strokes. That I am wretched Makes thee the happier. Heavens, deal so still: Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man, That slaves your ordinance, that will not see Because he does not feel, feel your power quickly. So distribution should undo excess And each man have enough. Dost thou know Dover? EDGAR Ay, master. GLOUCESTER There is a cliff, whose high and bending head Looks fearfully in the confined deep. Bring me but to the very brim of it, And I'll repair the misery thou dost bear With something rich about me. From that place I shall no leading need. EDGAR Give me thy arm. Poor Tom shall lead thee. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Goneril and Edmund, the Bastard.] GONERIL Welcome, my lord. I marvel our mild husband Not met us on the way. [Enter Oswald, the Steward.] Now, where's your master? OSWALD Madam, within, but never man so changed. I told him of the army that was landed; He smiled at it. I told him you were coming; His answer was "The worse." Of Gloucester's treachery And of the loyal service of his son When I informed him, then he called me "sot" And told me I had turned the wrong side out. What most he should dislike seems pleasant to him; What like, offensive. GONERIL, [to Edmund] Then shall you go no further. It is the cowish terror of his spirit, That dares not undertake. He'll not feel wrongs Which tie him to an answer. Our wishes on the way May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother. Hasten his musters and conduct his powers. I must change names at home and give the distaff Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant Shall pass between us. Ere long you are like to hear-- If you dare venture in your own behalf-- A mistress's command. Wear this; spare speech. [She gives him a favor.] Decline your head. [She kisses him.] This kiss, if it durst speak, Would stretch thy spirits up into the air. Conceive, and fare thee well. EDMUND Yours in the ranks of death. [He exits.] GONERIL My most dear Gloucester! O, the difference of man and man! To thee a woman's services are due; My fool usurps my body. OSWALD Madam, here comes my lord. [He exits.] [Enter Albany.] GONERIL I have been worth the whistle. ALBANY O Goneril, You are not worth the dust which the rude wind Blows in your face. I fear your disposition. That nature which contemns its origin Cannot be bordered certain in itself. She that herself will sliver and disbranch From her material sap perforce must wither And come to deadly use. GONERIL No more. The text is foolish. ALBANY Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile. Filths savor but themselves. What have you done? Tigers, not daughters, what have you performed? A father, and a gracious aged man, Whose reverence even the head-lugged bear would lick, Most barbarous, most degenerate, have you madded. Could my good brother suffer you to do it? A man, a prince, by him so benefited! If that the heavens do not their visible spirits Send quickly down to tame these vile offenses, It will come: Humanity must perforce prey on itself, Like monsters of the deep. GONERIL Milk-livered man, That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs; Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning Thine honor from thy suffering; that not know'st Fools do those villains pity who are punished Ere they have done their mischief. Where's thy drum? France spreads his banners in our noiseless land, With plumed helm thy state begins to threat, Whilst thou, a moral fool, sits still and cries "Alack, why does he so?" ALBANY See thyself, devil! Proper deformity shows not in the fiend So horrid as in woman. GONERIL O vain fool! ALBANY Thou changed and self-covered thing, for shame Bemonster not thy feature. Were 't my fitness To let these hands obey my blood, They are apt enough to dislocate and tear Thy flesh and bones. Howe'er thou art a fiend, A woman's shape doth shield thee. GONERIL Marry, your manhood, mew-- [Enter a Messenger.] ALBANY What news? MESSENGER O, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall's dead, Slain by his servant, going to put out The other eye of Gloucester. ALBANY Gloucester's eyes? MESSENGER A servant that he bred, thrilled with remorse, Opposed against the act, bending his sword To his great master, who, thereat enraged, Flew on him and amongst them felled him dead, But not without that harmful stroke which since Hath plucked him after. ALBANY This shows you are above, You justicers, that these our nether crimes So speedily can venge. But, O poor Gloucester, Lost he his other eye? MESSENGER Both, both, my lord.-- This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer. [Giving her a paper.] 'Tis from your sister. GONERIL, [aside] One way I like this well. But being widow and my Gloucester with her May all the building in my fancy pluck Upon my hateful life. Another way The news is not so tart.--I'll read, and answer. [She exits.] ALBANY Where was his son when they did take his eyes? MESSENGER Come with my lady hither. ALBANY He is not here. MESSENGER No, my good lord. I met him back again. ALBANY Knows he the wickedness? MESSENGER Ay, my good lord. 'Twas he informed against him And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment Might have the freer course. ALBANY Gloucester, I live To thank thee for the love thou show'd'st the King, And to revenge thine eyes.--Come hither, friend. Tell me what more thou know'st. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Kent in disguise and a Gentleman.] KENT Why the King of France is so suddenly gone back know you no reason? GENTLEMAN Something he left imperfect in the state, which since his coming forth is thought of, which imports to the kingdom so much fear and danger that his personal return was most required and necessary. KENT Who hath he left behind him general? GENTLEMAN The Marshal of France, Monsieur La Far. KENT Did your letters pierce the Queen to any demonstration of grief? GENTLEMAN Ay, sir, she took them, read them in my presence, And now and then an ample tear trilled down Her delicate cheek. It seemed she was a queen Over her passion, who, most rebel-like, Fought to be king o'er her. KENT O, then it moved her. GENTLEMAN Not to a rage. Patience and sorrow strove Who should express her goodliest. You have seen Sunshine and rain at once; her smiles and tears Were like a better way. Those happy smilets That played on her ripe lip seemed not to know What guests were in her eyes, which parted thence As pearls from diamonds dropped. In brief, Sorrow would be a rarity most beloved If all could so become it. KENT Made she no verbal question? GENTLEMAN Faith, once or twice she heaved the name of "father" Pantingly forth, as if it pressed her heart; Cried "Sisters, sisters, shame of ladies, sisters! Kent, father, sisters! What, i' th' storm, i' th' night? Let pity not be believed!" There she shook The holy water from her heavenly eyes, And clamor moistened. Then away she started, To deal with grief alone. KENT It is the stars. The stars above us govern our conditions, Else one self mate and make could not beget Such different issues. You spoke not with her since? GENTLEMAN No. KENT Was this before the King returned? GENTLEMAN No, since. KENT Well, sir, the poor distressed Lear's i' th' town, Who sometime in his better tune remembers What we are come about, and by no means Will yield to see his daughter. GENTLEMAN Why, good sir? KENT A sovereign shame so elbows him--his own unkindness, That stripped her from his benediction, turned her To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights To his dog-hearted daughters--these things sting His mind so venomously that burning shame Detains him from Cordelia. GENTLEMAN Alack, poor gentleman! KENT Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers you heard not? GENTLEMAN 'Tis so. They are afoot. KENT Well, sir, I'll bring you to our master Lear And leave you to attend him. Some dear cause Will in concealment wrap me up awhile. When I am known aright, you shall not grieve Lending me this acquaintance. I pray you, go Along with me. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter with Drum and Colors, Cordelia, Doctor, Gentlemen, and Soldiers.] CORDELIA Alack, 'tis he! Why, he was met even now As mad as the vexed sea, singing aloud, Crowned with rank fumiter and furrow-weeds, With hardocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckooflowers, Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow In our sustaining corn. A century send forth. Search every acre in the high-grown field And bring him to our eye. [Soldiers exit.] What can man's wisdom In the restoring his bereaved sense? He that helps him take all my outward worth. DOCTOR There is means, madam. Our foster nurse of nature is repose, The which he lacks. That to provoke in him Are many simples operative, whose power Will close the eye of anguish. CORDELIA All blest secrets, All you unpublished virtues of the earth, Spring with my tears. Be aidant and remediate In the good man's distress. Seek, seek for him, Lest his ungoverned rage dissolve the life That wants the means to lead it. [Enter Messenger.] MESSENGER News, madam. The British powers are marching hitherward. CORDELIA 'Tis known before. Our preparation stands In expectation of them.--O dear father, It is thy business that I go about. Therefore great France My mourning and importuned tears hath pitied. No blown ambition doth our arms incite, But love, dear love, and our aged father's right. Soon may I hear and see him. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Regan and Oswald, the Steward.] REGAN But are my brother's powers set forth? OSWALD Ay, madam. REGAN Himself in person there? OSWALD Madam, with much ado. Your sister is the better soldier. REGAN Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at home? OSWALD No, madam. REGAN What might import my sister's letter to him? OSWALD I know not, lady. REGAN Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter. It was great ignorance, Gloucester's eyes being out, To let him live. Where he arrives he moves All hearts against us. Edmund, I think, is gone, In pity of his misery, to dispatch His nighted life; moreover to descry The strength o' th' enemy. OSWALD I must needs after him, madam, with my letter. REGAN Our troops set forth tomorrow. Stay with us. The ways are dangerous. OSWALD I may not, madam. My lady charged my duty in this business. REGAN Why should she write to Edmund? Might not you Transport her purposes by word? Belike, Some things--I know not what. I'll love thee much-- Let me unseal the letter. OSWALD Madam, I had rather-- REGAN I know your lady does not love her husband; I am sure of that; and at her late being here, She gave strange eliads and most speaking looks To noble Edmund. I know you are of her bosom. OSWALD I, madam? REGAN I speak in understanding. Y' are; I know 't. Therefore I do advise you take this note: My lord is dead; Edmund and I have talked, And more convenient is he for my hand Than for your lady's. You may gather more. If you do find him, pray you, give him this, And when your mistress hears thus much from you, I pray, desire her call her wisdom to her. So, fare you well. If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor, Preferment falls on him that cuts him off. OSWALD Would I could meet him, madam. I should show What party I do follow. REGAN Fare thee well. [They exit.] Scene 6 ======= [Enter Gloucester and Edgar dressed as a peasant.] GLOUCESTER When shall I come to th' top of that same hill? EDGAR You do climb up it now. Look how we labor. GLOUCESTER Methinks the ground is even. EDGAR Horrible steep. Hark, do you hear the sea? GLOUCESTER No, truly. EDGAR Why then, your other senses grow imperfect By your eyes' anguish. GLOUCESTER So may it be indeed. Methinks thy voice is altered and thou speak'st In better phrase and matter than thou didst. EDGAR You're much deceived; in nothing am I changed But in my garments. GLOUCESTER Methinks you're better spoken. EDGAR Come on, sir. Here's the place. Stand still. How fearful And dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes so low! The crows and choughs that wing the midway air Show scarce so gross as beetles. Halfway down Hangs one that gathers samphire--dreadful trade; Methinks he seems no bigger than his head. The fishermen that walk upon the beach Appear like mice, and yond tall anchoring bark Diminished to her cock, her cock a buoy Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge That on th' unnumbered idle pebble chafes Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more Lest my brain turn and the deficient sight Topple down headlong. GLOUCESTER Set me where you stand. EDGAR Give me your hand. You are now within a foot Of th' extreme verge. For all beneath the moon Would I not leap upright. GLOUCESTER Let go my hand. Here, friend, 's another purse; in it a jewel Well worth a poor man's taking. Fairies and gods Prosper it with thee. [He gives Edgar a purse.] Go thou further off. Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going. EDGAR, [walking away] Now fare you well, good sir. GLOUCESTER With all my heart. EDGAR, [aside] Why I do trifle thus with his despair Is done to cure it. GLOUCESTER O you mighty gods! [He kneels.] This world I do renounce, and in your sights Shake patiently my great affliction off. If I could bear it longer, and not fall To quarrel with your great opposeless wills, My snuff and loathed part of nature should Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him!-- Now, fellow, fare thee well. [He falls.] EDGAR Gone, sir. Farewell.-- And yet I know not how conceit may rob The treasury of life, when life itself Yields to the theft. Had he been where he thought, By this had thought been past. Alive or dead?-- Ho you, sir! Friend, hear you. Sir, speak.-- Thus might he pass indeed. Yet he revives.-- What are you, sir? GLOUCESTER Away, and let me die. EDGAR Hadst thou been aught but gossamer, feathers, air, So many fathom down precipitating, Thou 'dst shivered like an egg; but thou dost breathe, Hast heavy substance, bleed'st not, speak'st, art sound. Ten masts at each make not the altitude Which thou hast perpendicularly fell. Thy life's a miracle. Speak yet again. GLOUCESTER But have I fall'n or no? EDGAR From the dread summit of this chalky bourn. Look up a-height. The shrill-gorged lark so far Cannot be seen or heard. Do but look up. GLOUCESTER Alack, I have no eyes. Is wretchedness deprived that benefit To end itself by death? 'Twas yet some comfort When misery could beguile the tyrant's rage And frustrate his proud will. EDGAR Give me your arm. [He raises Gloucester.] Up. So, how is 't? Feel you your legs? You stand. GLOUCESTER Too well, too well. EDGAR This is above all strangeness. Upon the crown o' th' cliff, what thing was that Which parted from you? GLOUCESTER A poor unfortunate beggar. EDGAR As I stood here below, methought his eyes Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses, Horns whelked and waved like the enraged sea. It was some fiend. Therefore, thou happy father, Think that the clearest gods, who make them honors Of men's impossibilities, have preserved thee. GLOUCESTER I do remember now. Henceforth I'll bear Affliction till it do cry out itself "Enough, enough!" and die. That thing you speak of, I took it for a man. Often 'twould say "The fiend, the fiend!" He led me to that place. EDGAR Bear free and patient thoughts. [Enter Lear.] But who comes here? The safer sense will ne'er accommodate His master thus. LEAR No, they cannot touch me for coining. I am the King himself. EDGAR O, thou side-piercing sight! LEAR Nature's above art in that respect. There's your press-money. That fellow handles his bow like a crowkeeper. Draw me a clothier's yard. Look, look, a mouse! Peace, peace! This piece of toasted cheese will do 't. There's my gauntlet; I'll prove it on a giant. Bring up the brown bills. O, well flown, bird! I' th' clout, i' th' clout! Hewgh! Give the word. EDGAR Sweet marjoram. LEAR Pass. GLOUCESTER I know that voice. LEAR Ha! Goneril with a white beard? They flattered me like a dog and told me I had the white hairs in my beard ere the black ones were there. To say "ay" and "no" to everything that I said "ay" and "no" to was no good divinity. When the rain came to wet me once and the wind to make me chatter, when the thunder would not peace at my bidding, there I found 'em, there I smelt 'em out. Go to. They are not men o' their words; they told me I was everything. 'Tis a lie. I am not ague-proof. GLOUCESTER The trick of that voice I do well remember. Is 't not the King? LEAR Ay, every inch a king. When I do stare, see how the subject quakes. I pardon that man's life. What was thy cause? Adultery? Thou shalt not die. Die for adultery? No. The wren goes to 't, and the small gilded fly does lecher in my sight. Let copulation thrive, for Gloucester's bastard son was kinder to his father than my daughters got 'tween the lawful sheets. To 't, luxury, pell-mell, for I lack soldiers. Behold yond simp'ring dame, whose face between her forks presages snow, that minces virtue and does shake the head to hear of pleasure's name. The fitchew nor the soiled horse goes to 't with a more riotous appetite. Down from the waist they are centaurs, though women all above. But to the girdle do the gods inherit; beneath is all the fiend's. There's hell, there's darkness, there is the sulphurous pit; burning, scalding, stench, consumption! Fie, fie, fie, pah, pah! Give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary; sweeten my imagination. There's money for thee. GLOUCESTER O, let me kiss that hand! LEAR Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality. GLOUCESTER O ruined piece of nature! This great world Shall so wear out to naught. Dost thou know me? LEAR I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost thou squinny at me? No, do thy worst, blind Cupid, I'll not love. Read thou this challenge. Mark but the penning of it. GLOUCESTER Were all thy letters suns, I could not see. EDGAR, [aside] I would not take this from report. It is, And my heart breaks at it. LEAR Read. GLOUCESTER What, with the case of eyes? LEAR O ho, are you there with me? No eyes in your head, nor no money in your purse? Your eyes are in a heavy case, your purse in a light, yet you see how this world goes. GLOUCESTER I see it feelingly. LEAR What, art mad? A man may see how this world goes with no eyes. Look with thine ears. See how yond justice rails upon yond simple thief. Hark in thine ear. Change places and, handy-dandy, which is the justice, which is the thief? Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar? GLOUCESTER Ay, sir. LEAR And the creature run from the cur? There thou might'st behold the great image of authority: a dog's obeyed in office. Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand! Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thy own back. Thou hotly lusts to use her in that kind For which thou whipp'st her. The usurer hangs the cozener. Through tattered clothes small vices do appear. Robes and furred gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold, And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks. Arm it in rags, a pygmy's straw does pierce it. None does offend, none, I say, none; I'll able 'em. Take that of me, my friend, who have the power To seal th' accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes, And like a scurvy politician Seem to see the things thou dost not. Now, now, now, now. Pull off my boots. Harder, harder. So. EDGAR, [aside] O, matter and impertinency mixed, Reason in madness! LEAR If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes. I know thee well enough; thy name is Gloucester. Thou must be patient. We came crying hither; Thou know'st the first time that we smell the air We wawl and cry. I will preach to thee. Mark. GLOUCESTER Alack, alack the day! LEAR When we are born, we cry that we are come To this great stage of fools.--This' a good block. It were a delicate stratagem to shoe A troop of horse with felt. I'll put 't in proof, And when I have stol'n upon these son-in-laws, Then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill! [Enter a Gentleman and Attendants.] GENTLEMAN, [noticing Lear] O, here he is. [To an Attendant.] Lay hand upon him.--Sir, Your most dear daughter-- LEAR No rescue? What, a prisoner? I am even The natural fool of Fortune. Use me well. You shall have ransom. Let me have surgeons; I am cut to th' brains. GENTLEMAN You shall have anything. LEAR No seconds? All myself? Why, this would make a man a man of salt, To use his eyes for garden waterpots, Ay, and laying autumn's dust. I will die bravely like a smug bridegroom. What? I will be jovial. Come, come, I am a king, Masters, know you that? GENTLEMAN You are a royal one, and we obey you. LEAR Then there's life in 't. Come, an you get it, you shall get it by running. Sa, sa, sa, sa. [The King exits running pursued by Attendants.] GENTLEMAN A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch, Past speaking of in a king. Thou hast a daughter Who redeems nature from the general curse Which twain have brought her to. EDGAR Hail, gentle sir. GENTLEMAN Sir, speed you. What's your will? EDGAR Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle toward? GENTLEMAN Most sure and vulgar. Everyone hears that, Which can distinguish sound. EDGAR But, by your favor, How near's the other army? GENTLEMAN Near and on speedy foot. The main descry Stands on the hourly thought. EDGAR I thank you, sir. That's all. GENTLEMAN Though that the Queen on special cause is here, Her army is moved on. EDGAR I thank you, sir. [Gentleman exits.] GLOUCESTER You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me; Let not my worser spirit tempt me again To die before you please. EDGAR Well pray you, father. GLOUCESTER Now, good sir, what are you? EDGAR A most poor man, made tame to Fortune's blows, Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows, Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand; I'll lead you to some biding. [He takes Gloucester's hand.] GLOUCESTER Hearty thanks. The bounty and the benison of heaven To boot, and boot. [Enter Oswald, the Steward.] OSWALD, [drawing his sword] A proclaimed prize! Most happy! That eyeless head of thine was first framed flesh To raise my fortunes. Thou old unhappy traitor, Briefly thyself remember; the sword is out That must destroy thee. GLOUCESTER Now let thy friendly hand Put strength enough to 't. [Edgar steps between Gloucester and Oswald.] OSWALD Wherefore, bold peasant, Dar'st thou support a published traitor? Hence, Lest that th' infection of his fortune take Like hold on thee. Let go his arm. EDGAR Chill not let go, zir, without vurther 'casion. OSWALD Let go, slave, or thou diest! EDGAR Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor volk pass. An 'chud ha' bin zwaggered out of my life, 'twould not ha' bin zo long as 'tis by a vortnight. Nay, come not near th' old man. Keep out, che vor' ye, or Ise try whether your costard or my ballow be the harder. Chill be plain with you. OSWALD Out, dunghill. EDGAR Chill pick your teeth, zir. Come, no matter vor your foins. [They fight.] OSWALD, [falling] Slave, thou hast slain me. Villain, take my purse. If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body, And give the letters which thou find'st about me To Edmund, Earl of Gloucester. Seek him out Upon the English party. O, untimely death! Death! [He dies.] EDGAR I know thee well, a serviceable villain, As duteous to the vices of thy mistress As badness would desire. GLOUCESTER What, is he dead? EDGAR Sit you down, father; rest you. Let's see these pockets. The letters that he speaks of May be my friends. He's dead; I am only sorry He had no other deathsman. Let us see. [He opens a letter.] Leave, gentle wax, and, manners, blame us not. To know our enemies' minds, we rip their hearts. Their papers is more lawful. [Reads the letter.] Let our reciprocal vows be remembered. You have many opportunities to cut him off. If your will want not, time and place will be fruitfully offered. There is nothing done if he return the conqueror. Then am I the prisoner, and his bed my jail, from the loathed warmth whereof deliver me and supply the place for your labor. Your (wife, so I would say) affectionate servant, and, for you, her own for venture, Goneril. O indistinguished space of woman's will! A plot upon her virtuous husband's life, And the exchange my brother.--Here, in the sands Thee I'll rake up, the post unsanctified Of murderous lechers; and in the mature time With this ungracious paper strike the sight Of the death-practiced duke. For him 'tis well That of thy death and business I can tell. GLOUCESTER The King is mad. How stiff is my vile sense That I stand up and have ingenious feeling Of my huge sorrows! Better I were distract. So should my thoughts be severed from my griefs, And woes, by wrong imaginations, lose The knowledge of themselves. [Drum afar off.] EDGAR Give me your hand. Far off methinks I hear the beaten drum. Come, father, I'll bestow you with a friend. [They exit.] Scene 7 ======= [Enter Cordelia, Kent in disguise, Doctor, and Gentleman.] CORDELIA O, thou good Kent, how shall I live and work To match thy goodness? My life will be too short, And every measure fail me. KENT To be acknowledged, madam, is o'erpaid. All my reports go with the modest truth, Nor more, nor clipped, but so. CORDELIA Be better suited. These weeds are memories of those worser hours. I prithee put them off. KENT Pardon, dear madam. Yet to be known shortens my made intent. My boon I make it that you know me not Till time and I think meet. CORDELIA Then be 't so, my good lord.--How does the King? DOCTOR Madam, sleeps still. CORDELIA O, you kind gods, Cure this great breach in his abused nature! Th' untuned and jarring senses, O, wind up, Of this child-changed father! DOCTOR So please your Majesty That we may wake the King? He hath slept long. CORDELIA Be governed by your knowledge, and proceed I' th' sway of your own will. Is he arrayed? [Enter Lear in a chair carried by Servants.] GENTLEMAN Ay, madam. In the heaviness of sleep, We put fresh garments on him. DOCTOR Be by, good madam, when we do awake him. I doubt not of his temperance. CORDELIA Very well. [Music.] DOCTOR Please you, draw near.--Louder the music there. CORDELIA, [kissing Lear] O, my dear father, restoration hang Thy medicine on my lips, and let this kiss Repair those violent harms that my two sisters Have in thy reverence made. KENT Kind and dear princess. CORDELIA Had you not been their father, these white flakes Did challenge pity of them. Was this a face To be opposed against the jarring winds? To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder, In the most terrible and nimble stroke Of quick cross-lightning? To watch, poor perdu, With this thin helm? Mine enemy's dog, Though he had bit me, should have stood that night Against my fire. And wast thou fain, poor father, To hovel thee with swine and rogues forlorn In short and musty straw? Alack, alack, 'Tis wonder that thy life and wits at once Had not concluded all.--He wakes. Speak to him. DOCTOR Madam, do you; 'tis fittest. CORDELIA How does my royal lord? How fares your Majesty? LEAR You do me wrong to take me out o' th' grave. Thou art a soul in bliss, but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead. CORDELIA Sir, do you know me? LEAR You are a spirit, I know. Where did you die? CORDELIA Still, still, far wide. DOCTOR He's scarce awake. Let him alone awhile. LEAR Where have I been? Where am I? Fair daylight? I am mightily abused; I should e'en die with pity To see another thus. I know not what to say. I will not swear these are my hands. Let's see. I feel this pinprick. Would I were assured Of my condition! CORDELIA O, look upon me, sir, And hold your hand in benediction o'er me. No, sir, you must not kneel. LEAR Pray do not mock: I am a very foolish fond old man, Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less, And to deal plainly, I fear I am not in my perfect mind. Methinks I should know you and know this man, Yet I am doubtful, for I am mainly ignorant What place this is, and all the skill I have Remembers not these garments; nor I know not Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me, For, as I am a man, I think this lady To be my child Cordelia. CORDELIA, [weeping] And so I am; I am. LEAR Be your tears wet? Yes, faith. I pray, weep not. If you have poison for me, I will drink it. I know you do not love me, for your sisters Have, as I do remember, done me wrong. You have some cause; they have not. CORDELIA No cause, no cause. LEAR Am I in France? KENT In your own kingdom, sir. LEAR Do not abuse me. DOCTOR Be comforted, good madam. The great rage, You see, is killed in him, and yet it is danger To make him even o'er the time he has lost. Desire him to go in. Trouble him no more Till further settling. CORDELIA Will 't please your Highness walk? LEAR You must bear with me. Pray you now, forget, and forgive. I am old and foolish. [They exit. Kent and Gentleman remain.] GENTLEMAN Holds it true, sir, that the Duke of Cornwall was so slain? KENT Most certain, sir. GENTLEMAN Who is conductor of his people? KENT As 'tis said, the bastard son of Gloucester. GENTLEMAN They say Edgar, his banished son, is with the Earl of Kent in Germany. KENT Report is changeable. 'Tis time to look about. The powers of the kingdom approach apace. GENTLEMAN The arbitrament is like to be bloody. Fare you well, sir. [He exits.] KENT My point and period will be throughly wrought, Or well, or ill, as this day's battle's fought. [He exits.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter, with Drum and Colors, Edmund, Regan, Gentlemen, and Soldiers.] EDMUND, [to a Gentleman] Know of the Duke if his last purpose hold, Or whether since he is advised by aught To change the course. He's full of alteration And self-reproving. Bring his constant pleasure. [A Gentleman exits.] REGAN Our sister's man is certainly miscarried. EDMUND 'Tis to be doubted, madam. REGAN Now, sweet lord, You know the goodness I intend upon you; Tell me but truly, but then speak the truth, Do you not love my sister? EDMUND In honored love. REGAN But have you never found my brother's way To the forfended place? EDMUND That thought abuses you. REGAN I am doubtful that you have been conjunct And bosomed with her as far as we call hers. EDMUND No, by mine honor, madam. REGAN I never shall endure her. Dear my lord, Be not familiar with her. EDMUND Fear me not. She and the Duke, her husband. [Enter, with Drum and Colors, Albany, Goneril, Soldiers.] GONERIL, [aside] I had rather lose the battle than that sister Should loosen him and me. ALBANY Our very loving sister, well bemet.-- Sir, this I heard: the King is come to his daughter, With others whom the rigor of our state Forced to cry out. Where I could not be honest, I never yet was valiant. For this business, It touches us as France invades our land, Not bolds the King, with others whom, I fear, Most just and heavy causes make oppose. EDMUND Sir, you speak nobly. REGAN Why is this reasoned? GONERIL Combine together 'gainst the enemy, For these domestic and particular broils Are not the question here. ALBANY Let's then determine With th' ancient of war on our proceeding. EDMUND I shall attend you presently at your tent. REGAN Sister, you'll go with us? GONERIL No. REGAN 'Tis most convenient. Pray, go with us. GONERIL, [aside] Oho, I know the riddle.--I will go. [They begin to exit.] [Enter Edgar dressed as a peasant.] EDGAR, [to Albany] If e'er your Grace had speech with man so poor, Hear me one word. ALBANY, [to those exiting] I'll overtake you.--Speak. [Both the armies exit.] EDGAR, [giving him a paper] Before you fight the battle, ope this letter. If you have victory, let the trumpet sound For him that brought it. Wretched though I seem, I can produce a champion that will prove What is avouched there. If you miscarry, Your business of the world hath so an end, And machination ceases. Fortune love you. ALBANY Stay till I have read the letter. EDGAR I was forbid it. When time shall serve, let but the herald cry And I'll appear again. [He exits.] ALBANY Why, fare thee well. I will o'erlook thy paper. [Enter Edmund.] EDMUND The enemy's in view. Draw up your powers. [Giving him a paper.] Here is the guess of their true strength and forces By diligent discovery. But your haste Is now urged on you. ALBANY We will greet the time. [He exits.] EDMUND To both these sisters have I sworn my love, Each jealous of the other as the stung Are of the adder. Which of them shall I take? Both? One? Or neither? Neither can be enjoyed If both remain alive. To take the widow Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril, And hardly shall I carry out my side, Her husband being alive. Now, then, we'll use His countenance for the battle, which, being done, Let her who would be rid of him devise His speedy taking off. As for the mercy Which he intends to Lear and to Cordelia, The battle done and they within our power, Shall never see his pardon, for my state Stands on me to defend, not to debate. [He exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Alarum within. Enter, with Drum and Colors, Lear, Cordelia, and Soldiers, over the stage, and exit. Enter Edgar and Gloucester.] EDGAR Here, father, take the shadow of this tree For your good host. Pray that the right may thrive. If ever I return to you again, I'll bring you comfort. GLOUCESTER Grace go with you, sir. [Edgar exits.] [Alarum and Retreat within.] [Enter Edgar.] EDGAR Away, old man. Give me thy hand. Away. King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter ta'en. Give me thy hand. Come on. GLOUCESTER No further, sir. A man may rot even here. EDGAR What, in ill thoughts again? Men must endure Their going hence even as their coming hither. Ripeness is all. Come on. GLOUCESTER And that's true too. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter in conquest, with Drum and Colors, Edmund; Lear and Cordelia as prisoners; Soldiers, Captain.] EDMUND Some officers take them away. Good guard Until their greater pleasures first be known That are to censure them. CORDELIA, [to Lear] We are not the first Who with best meaning have incurred the worst. For thee, oppressed king, I am cast down. Myself could else outfrown false Fortune's frown. Shall we not see these daughters and these sisters? LEAR No, no, no, no. Come, let's away to prison. We two alone will sing like birds i' th' cage. When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down And ask of thee forgiveness. So we'll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues Talk of court news, and we'll talk with them too-- Who loses and who wins; who's in, who's out-- And take upon 's the mystery of things, As if we were God's spies. And we'll wear out, In a walled prison, packs and sects of great ones That ebb and flow by th' moon. EDMUND Take them away. LEAR Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia, The gods themselves throw incense. Have I caught thee? He that parts us shall bring a brand from heaven And fire us hence like foxes. Wipe thine eyes. The good years shall devour them, flesh and fell, Ere they shall make us weep. We'll see 'em starved first. Come. [Lear and Cordelia exit, with Soldiers.] EDMUND Come hither, captain. Hark. [Handing him a paper.] Take thou this note. Go follow them to prison. One step I have advanced thee. If thou dost As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way To noble fortunes. Know thou this: that men Are as the time is; to be tender-minded Does not become a sword. Thy great employment Will not bear question. Either say thou 'lt do 't, Or thrive by other means. CAPTAIN I'll do 't, my lord. EDMUND About it, and write "happy" when th' hast done. Mark, I say, instantly, and carry it so As I have set it down. CAPTAIN I cannot draw a cart, nor eat dried oats. If it be man's work, I'll do 't. [Captain exits.] [Flourish. Enter Albany, Goneril, Regan, Soldiers and a Captain.] ALBANY, [to Edmund] Sir, you have showed today your valiant strain, And Fortune led you well. You have the captives Who were the opposites of this day's strife. I do require them of you, so to use them As we shall find their merits and our safety May equally determine. EDMUND Sir, I thought it fit To send the old and miserable king To some retention and appointed guard, Whose age had charms in it, whose title more, To pluck the common bosom on his side And turn our impressed lances in our eyes, Which do command them. With him I sent the Queen, My reason all the same, and they are ready Tomorrow, or at further space, t' appear Where you shall hold your session. At this time We sweat and bleed. The friend hath lost his friend, And the best quarrels in the heat are cursed By those that feel their sharpness. The question of Cordelia and her father Requires a fitter place. ALBANY Sir, by your patience, I hold you but a subject of this war, Not as a brother. REGAN That's as we list to grace him. Methinks our pleasure might have been demanded Ere you had spoke so far. He led our powers, Bore the commission of my place and person, The which immediacy may well stand up And call itself your brother. GONERIL Not so hot. In his own grace he doth exalt himself More than in your addition. REGAN In my rights, By me invested, he compeers the best. GONERIL That were the most if he should husband you. REGAN Jesters do oft prove prophets. GONERIL Holla, holla! That eye that told you so looked but asquint. REGAN Lady, I am not well, else I should answer From a full-flowing stomach. [To Edmund.] General, Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony. Dispose of them, of me; the walls is thine. Witness the world that I create thee here My lord and master. GONERIL Mean you to enjoy him? ALBANY The let-alone lies not in your goodwill. EDMUND Nor in thine, lord. ALBANY Half-blooded fellow, yes. REGAN, [to Edmund] Let the drum strike, and prove my title thine. ALBANY Stay yet, hear reason.--Edmund, I arrest thee On capital treason; and, in thine attaint, This gilded serpent.--For your claim, fair sister, I bar it in the interest of my wife. 'Tis she is subcontracted to this lord, And I, her husband, contradict your banns. If you will marry, make your loves to me. My lady is bespoke. GONERIL An interlude! ALBANY Thou art armed, Gloucester. Let the trumpet sound. If none appear to prove upon thy person Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons, There is my pledge. [He throws down a glove.] I'll make it on thy heart, Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less Than I have here proclaimed thee. REGAN Sick, O, sick! GONERIL, [aside] If not, I'll ne'er trust medicine. EDMUND There's my exchange. [He throws down a glove.] What in the world he is That names me traitor, villain-like he lies. Call by the trumpet. He that dares approach, On him, on you, who not, I will maintain My truth and honor firmly. ALBANY A herald, ho! EDMUND A herald, ho, a herald! ALBANY Trust to thy single virtue, for thy soldiers, All levied in my name, have in my name Took their discharge. REGAN My sickness grows upon me. ALBANY She is not well. Convey her to my tent. [Regan is helped to exit.] [Enter a Herald.] Come hither, herald. Let the trumpet sound, And read out this. [He hands the Herald a paper.] CAPTAIN Sound, trumpet! [A trumpet sounds.] HERALD [reads.] If any man of quality or degree, within the lists of the army, will maintain upon Edmund, supposed Earl of Gloucester, that he is a manifold traitor, let him appear by the third sound of the trumpet. He is bold in his defense. [First trumpet sounds.] HERALD Again! [Second trumpet sounds.] HERALD Again! [Third trumpet sounds.] [Trumpet answers within.] [Enter Edgar armed.] ALBANY, [to Herald] Ask him his purposes, why he appears Upon this call o' th' trumpet. HERALD What are you? Your name, your quality, and why you answer This present summons? EDGAR Know my name is lost, By treason's tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit. Yet am I noble as the adversary I come to cope. ALBANY Which is that adversary? EDGAR What's he that speaks for Edmund, Earl of Gloucester? EDMUND Himself. What sayest thou to him? EDGAR Draw thy sword, That if my speech offend a noble heart, Thy arm may do thee justice. Here is mine. [He draws his sword.] Behold, it is my privilege, the privilege of mine honors, My oath, and my profession. I protest, Maugre thy strength, place, youth, and eminence, Despite thy victor-sword and fire-new fortune, Thy valor, and thy heart, thou art a traitor, False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father, Conspirant 'gainst this high illustrious prince, And from th' extremest upward of thy head To the descent and dust below thy foot, A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou "no," This sword, this arm, and my best spirits are bent To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak, Thou liest. EDMUND In wisdom I should ask thy name, But since thy outside looks so fair and warlike, And that thy tongue some say of breeding breathes, What safe and nicely I might well delay By rule of knighthood, I disdain and spurn. Back do I toss these treasons to thy head, With the hell-hated lie o'erwhelm thy heart, Which, for they yet glance by and scarcely bruise, This sword of mine shall give them instant way, Where they shall rest forever. Trumpets, speak! [He draws his sword. Alarums. Fights.] [Edmund falls, wounded.] ALBANY, [to Edgar] Save him, save him! GONERIL This is practice, Gloucester. By th' law of war, thou wast not bound to answer An unknown opposite. Thou art not vanquished, But cozened and beguiled. ALBANY Shut your mouth, dame, Or with this paper shall I stopple it.--Hold, sir.-- Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil. No tearing, lady. I perceive you know it. GONERIL Say if I do; the laws are mine, not thine. Who can arraign me for 't? ALBANY Most monstrous! O! Know'st thou this paper? GONERIL Ask me not what I know. [She exits.] ALBANY Go after her, she's desperate. Govern her. [A Soldier exits.] EDMUND, [to Edgar] What you have charged me with, that have I done, And more, much more. The time will bring it out. 'Tis past, and so am I. But what art thou That hast this fortune on me? If thou 'rt noble, I do forgive thee. EDGAR Let's exchange charity. I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund; If more, the more th' hast wronged me. My name is Edgar and thy father's son. The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices Make instruments to plague us. The dark and vicious place where thee he got Cost him his eyes. EDMUND Th' hast spoken right. 'Tis true. The wheel is come full circle; I am here. ALBANY, [to Edgar] Methought thy very gait did prophesy A royal nobleness. I must embrace thee. Let sorrow split my heart if ever I Did hate thee or thy father! EDGAR Worthy prince, I know 't. ALBANY Where have you hid yourself? How have you known the miseries of your father? EDGAR By nursing them, my lord. List a brief tale, And when 'tis told, O, that my heart would burst! The bloody proclamation to escape That followed me so near--O, our lives' sweetness, That we the pain of death would hourly die Rather than die at once!--taught me to shift Into a madman's rags, t' assume a semblance That very dogs disdained, and in this habit Met I my father with his bleeding rings, Their precious stones new lost; became his guide, Led him, begged for him, saved him from despair. Never--O fault!--revealed myself unto him Until some half hour past, when I was armed. Not sure, though hoping of this good success, I asked his blessing, and from first to last Told him our pilgrimage. But his flawed heart (Alack, too weak the conflict to support) 'Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief, Burst smilingly. EDMUND This speech of yours hath moved me, And shall perchance do good. But speak you on. You look as you had something more to say. ALBANY If there be more, more woeful, hold it in, For I am almost ready to dissolve, Hearing of this. EDGAR This would have seemed a period To such as love not sorrow; but another, To amplify too much, would make much more And top extremity. Whilst I Was big in clamor, came there in a man Who, having seen me in my worst estate, Shunned my abhorred society; but then, finding Who 'twas that so endured, with his strong arms He fastened on my neck and bellowed out As he'd burst heaven, threw him on my father, Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him That ever ear received, which, in recounting, His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life Began to crack. Twice then the trumpets sounded, And there I left him tranced. ALBANY But who was this? EDGAR Kent, sir, the banished Kent, who in disguise Followed his enemy king and did him service Improper for a slave. [Enter a Gentleman with a bloody knife.] GENTLEMAN Help, help, O, help! EDGAR What kind of help? ALBANY, [to Gentleman] Speak, man! EDGAR What means this bloody knife? GENTLEMAN 'Tis hot, it smokes! It came even from the heart Of--O, she's dead! ALBANY Who dead? Speak, man. GENTLEMAN Your lady, sir, your lady. And her sister By her is poisoned. She confesses it. EDMUND I was contracted to them both. All three Now marry in an instant. EDGAR Here comes Kent. [Enter Kent.] ALBANY, [to the Gentleman] Produce the bodies, be they alive or dead. [Gentleman exits.] This judgment of the heavens, that makes us tremble, Touches us not with pity. O, is this he? [To Kent.] The time will not allow the compliment Which very manners urges. KENT I am come To bid my king and master aye goodnight. Is he not here? ALBANY Great thing of us forgot! Speak, Edmund, where's the King? And where's Cordelia? [Goneril and Regan's bodies brought out.] Seest thou this object, Kent? KENT Alack, why thus? EDMUND Yet Edmund was beloved. The one the other poisoned for my sake, And after slew herself. ALBANY Even so.--Cover their faces. EDMUND I pant for life. Some good I mean to do Despite of mine own nature. Quickly send-- Be brief in it--to th' castle, for my writ Is on the life of Lear, and on Cordelia. Nay, send in time. ALBANY Run, run, O, run! EDGAR To who, my lord? [To Edmund.] Who has the office? Send Thy token of reprieve. EDMUND Well thought on. Take my sword. Give it the Captain. EDGAR, [to a Soldier] Haste thee for thy life. [The Soldier exits with Edmund's sword.] EDMUND, [to Albany] He hath commission from thy wife and me To hang Cordelia in the prison, and To lay the blame upon her own despair, That she fordid herself. ALBANY The gods defend her!--Bear him hence awhile. [Edmund is carried off.] [Enter Lear with Cordelia in his arms, followed by a Gentleman.] LEAR Howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stones! Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd use them so That heaven's vault should crack. She's gone forever. I know when one is dead and when one lives. She's dead as earth.--Lend me a looking glass. If that her breath will mist or stain the stone, Why, then she lives. KENT Is this the promised end? EDGAR Or image of that horror? ALBANY Fall and cease. LEAR This feather stirs. She lives. If it be so, It is a chance which does redeem all sorrows That ever I have felt. KENT O, my good master-- LEAR Prithee, away. EDGAR 'Tis noble Kent, your friend. LEAR A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all! I might have saved her. Now she's gone forever.-- Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little. Ha! What is 't thou sayst?--Her voice was ever soft, Gentle, and low, an excellent thing in woman. I killed the slave that was a-hanging thee. GENTLEMAN 'Tis true, my lords, he did. LEAR Did I not, fellow? I have seen the day, with my good biting falchion I would have made him skip. I am old now, And these same crosses spoil me. [To Kent.] Who are you? Mine eyes are not o' th' best. I'll tell you straight. KENT If Fortune brag of two she loved and hated, One of them we behold. LEAR This is a dull sight. Are you not Kent? KENT The same, Your servant Kent. Where is your servant Caius? LEAR He's a good fellow, I can tell you that. He'll strike and quickly too. He's dead and rotten. KENT No, my good lord, I am the very man-- LEAR I'll see that straight. KENT That from your first of difference and decay Have followed your sad steps. LEAR You are welcome hither. KENT Nor no man else. All's cheerless, dark, and deadly. Your eldest daughters have fordone themselves, And desperately are dead. LEAR Ay, so I think. ALBANY He knows not what he says, and vain is it That we present us to him. EDGAR Very bootless. [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER Edmund is dead, my lord. ALBANY That's but a trifle here.-- You lords and noble friends, know our intent: What comfort to this great decay may come Shall be applied. For us, we will resign, During the life of this old Majesty, To him our absolute power; you to your rights, With boot and such addition as your Honors Have more than merited. All friends shall taste The wages of their virtue, and all foes The cup of their deservings. O, see, see! LEAR And my poor fool is hanged. No, no, no life? Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life, And thou no breath at all? Thou 'lt come no more, Never, never, never, never, never.-- Pray you undo this button. Thank you, sir. Do you see this? Look on her, look, her lips, Look there, look there! [He dies.] EDGAR He faints. [To Lear.] My lord, my lord! KENT Break, heart, I prithee, break! EDGAR Look up, my lord. KENT Vex not his ghost. O, let him pass! He hates him That would upon the rack of this tough world Stretch him out longer. EDGAR He is gone indeed. KENT The wonder is he hath endured so long. He but usurped his life. ALBANY Bear them from hence. Our present business Is general woe. [To Edgar and Kent.] Friends of my soul, you twain Rule in this realm, and the gored state sustain. KENT I have a journey, sir, shortly to go; My master calls me. I must not say no. EDGAR The weight of this sad time we must obey, Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say. The oldest hath borne most; we that are young Shall never see so much nor live so long. [They exit with a dead march.]

Love's Labor's Lost by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== KING of Navarre, also known as Ferdinand Lords attending the King: BEROWNE LONGAVILLE DUMAINE The PRINCESS of France Ladies attending the Princess: ROSALINE MARIA KATHERINE BOYET, a lord attending the Princess ARMADO, the BRAGGART, also known as Don Adriano de Armado BOY, Armado's PAGE, also known as MOTE JAQUENETTA, the WENCH COSTARD, the CLOWN or SWAIN DULL, the CONSTABLE HOLOFERNES, the PEDANT, or schoolmaster NATHANIEL, the CURATE FORESTER MONSIEUR MARCADE, a messenger from France Lords, Blackamoors, Musicians ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Ferdinand, King of Navarre, Berowne, Longaville, and Dumaine.] KING Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives, Live registered upon our brazen tombs, And then grace us in the disgrace of death, When, spite of cormorant devouring time, Th' endeavor of this present breath may buy That honor which shall bate his scythe's keen edge And make us heirs of all eternity. Therefore, brave conquerors, for so you are That war against your own affections And the huge army of the world's desires, Our late edict shall strongly stand in force. Navarre shall be the wonder of the world; Our court shall be a little academe, Still and contemplative in living art. You three, Berowne, Dumaine, and Longaville, Have sworn for three years' term to live with me, My fellow scholars, and to keep those statutes That are recorded in this schedule here. [He holds up a scroll.] Your oaths are passed, and now subscribe your names, That his own hand may strike his honor down That violates the smallest branch herein. If you are armed to do as sworn to do, Subscribe to your deep oaths, and keep it too. LONGAVILLE I am resolved. 'Tis but a three years' fast. The mind shall banquet though the body pine. Fat paunches have lean pates, and dainty bits Make rich the ribs but bankrout quite the wits. [He signs his name.] DUMAINE My loving lord, Dumaine is mortified. The grosser manner of these world's delights He throws upon the gross world's baser slaves. To love, to wealth, to pomp I pine and die, With all these living in philosophy. [He signs his name.] BEROWNE I can but say their protestation over. So much, dear liege, I have already sworn, That is, to live and study here three years. But there are other strict observances: As not to see a woman in that term, Which I hope well is not enrolled there; And one day in a week to touch no food, And but one meal on every day besides, The which I hope is not enrolled there; And then to sleep but three hours in the night, And not be seen to wink of all the day-- When I was wont to think no harm all night, And make a dark night too of half the day-- Which I hope well is not enrolled there. O, these are barren tasks, too hard to keep, Not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep. KING Your oath is passed to pass away from these. BEROWNE Let me say no, my liege, an if you please. I only swore to study with your Grace And stay here in your court for three years' space. LONGAVILLE You swore to that, Berowne, and to the rest. BEROWNE By yea and nay, sir. Then I swore in jest. What is the end of study, let me know? KING Why, that to know which else we should not know. BEROWNE Things hid and barred, you mean, from common sense. KING Ay, that is study's godlike recompense. BEROWNE Come on, then, I will swear to study so, To know the thing I am forbid to know: As thus--to study where I well may dine, When I to feast expressly am forbid; Or study where to meet some mistress fine When mistresses from common sense are hid; Or having sworn too hard-a-keeping oath, Study to break it, and not break my troth. If study's gain be thus, and this be so, Study knows that which yet it doth not know. Swear me to this, and I will ne'er say no. KING These be the stops that hinder study quite, And train our intellects to vain delight. BEROWNE Why, all delights are vain, and that most vain Which with pain purchased doth inherit pain: As painfully to pore upon a book To seek the light of truth, while truth the while Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look. Light seeking light doth light of light beguile. So, ere you find where light in darkness lies, Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes. Study me how to please the eye indeed By fixing it upon a fairer eye, Who dazzling so, that eye shall be his heed And give him light that it was blinded by. Study is like the heaven's glorious sun, That will not be deep-searched with saucy looks. Small have continual plodders ever won, Save base authority from others' books. These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights, That give a name to every fixed star, Have no more profit of their shining nights Than those that walk and wot not what they are. Too much to know is to know naught but fame, And every godfather can give a name. KING How well he's read to reason against reading. DUMAINE Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding. LONGAVILLE He weeds the corn, and still lets grow the weeding. BEROWNE The spring is near when green geese are a-breeding. DUMAINE How follows that? BEROWNE Fit in his place and time. DUMAINE In reason nothing. BEROWNE Something then in rhyme. KING Berowne is like an envious sneaping frost That bites the firstborn infants of the spring. BEROWNE Well, say I am. Why should proud summer boast Before the birds have any cause to sing? Why should I joy in any abortive birth? At Christmas I no more desire a rose Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled shows, But like of each thing that in season grows. So you, to study now it is too late, Climb o'er the house to unlock the little gate. KING Well, sit you out. Go home, Berowne. Adieu. BEROWNE No, my good lord, I have sworn to stay with you. And though I have for barbarism spoke more Than for that angel knowledge you can say, Yet, confident, I'll keep what I have sworn And bide the penance of each three years' day. Give me the paper. Let me read the same, And to the strictest decrees I'll write my name. KING How well this yielding rescues thee from shame. BEROWNE [reads] Item, That no woman shall come within a mile of my court. Hath this been proclaimed? LONGAVILLE Four days ago. BEROWNE Let's see the penalty. [Reads:] On pain of losing her tongue. Who devised this penalty? LONGAVILLE Marry, that did I. BEROWNE Sweet lord, and why? LONGAVILLE To fright them hence with that dread penalty. BEROWNE A dangerous law against gentility. [Reads:] Item, If any man be seen to talk with a woman within the term of three years, he shall endure such public shame as the rest of the court can possible devise. This article, my liege, yourself must break, For well you know here comes in embassy The French king's daughter with yourself to speak-- A maid of grace and complete majesty-- About surrender up of Aquitaine To her decrepit, sick, and bedrid father. Therefore this article is made in vain, Or vainly comes th' admired princess hither. KING What say you, lords? Why, this was quite forgot. BEROWNE So study evermore is overshot. While it doth study to have what it would, It doth forget to do the thing it should. And when it hath the thing it hunteth most, 'Tis won as towns with fire--so won, so lost. KING We must of force dispense with this decree. She must lie here on mere necessity. BEROWNE Necessity will make us all forsworn Three thousand times within this three years' space; For every man with his affects is born, Not by might mastered, but by special grace. If I break faith, this word shall speak for me: I am forsworn on mere necessity. So to the laws at large I write my name, And he that breaks them in the least degree Stands in attainder of eternal shame. Suggestions are to other as to me, But I believe, although I seem so loath, I am the last that will last keep his oath. [He signs his name.] But is there no quick recreation granted? KING Ay, that there is. Our court, you know, is haunted With a refined traveler of Spain, A man in all the world's new fashion planted, That hath a mint of phrases in his brain; One who the music of his own vain tongue Doth ravish like enchanting harmony, A man of compliments, whom right and wrong Have chose as umpire of their mutiny. This child of fancy, that Armado hight, For interim to our studies shall relate In high-born words the worth of many a knight From tawny Spain lost in the world's debate. How you delight, my lords, I know not, I, But I protest I love to hear him lie, And I will use him for my minstrelsy. BEROWNE Armado is a most illustrious wight, A man of fire-new words, fashion's own knight. LONGAVILLE Costard the swain and he shall be our sport, And so to study three years is but short. [Enter Dull, a Constable, with a letter, and Costard.] DULL Which is the Duke's own person? BEROWNE This, fellow. What wouldst? DULL I myself reprehend his own person, for I am his Grace's farborough. But I would see his own person in flesh and blood. BEROWNE This is he. DULL, [to King] Signior Arm-, Arm-, commends you. There's villainy abroad. This letter will tell you more. [He gives the letter to the King.] COSTARD Sir, the contempts thereof are as touching me. KING A letter from the magnificent Armado. BEROWNE How low soever the matter, I hope in God for high words. LONGAVILLE A high hope for a low heaven. God grant us patience! BEROWNE To hear, or forbear hearing? LONGAVILLE To hear meekly, sir, and to laugh moderately, or to forbear both. BEROWNE Well, sir, be it as the style shall give us cause to climb in the merriness. COSTARD The matter is to me, sir, as concerning Jaquenetta. The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner. BEROWNE In what manner? COSTARD In manner and form following, sir, all those three. I was seen with her in the manor house, sitting with her upon the form, and taken following her into the park, which, put together, is "in manner and form following." Now, sir, for the manner. It is the manner of a man to speak to a woman. For the form--in some form. BEROWNE For the "following," sir? COSTARD As it shall follow in my correction, and God defend the right. KING Will you hear this letter with attention? BEROWNE As we would hear an oracle. COSTARD Such is the sinplicity of man to hearken after the flesh. KING [reads] Great deputy, the welkin's vicegerent and sole dominator of Navarre, my soul's earth's god, and body's fost'ring patron-- COSTARD Not a word of Costard yet. KING [reads] So it is-- COSTARD It may be so, but if he say it is so, he is, in telling true, but so. KING Peace. COSTARD Be to me, and every man that dares not fight. KING No words. COSTARD Of other men's secrets, I beseech you. KING [reads] So it is, besieged with sable-colored melancholy, I did commend the black oppressing humor to the most wholesome physic of thy health-giving air; and, as I am a gentleman, betook myself to walk. The time when? About the sixth hour, when beasts most graze, birds best peck, and men sit down to that nourishment which is called supper. So much for the time when. Now for the ground which--which, I mean, I walked upon. It is yclept thy park. Then for the place where--where, I mean, I did encounter that obscene and most prepost'rous event that draweth from my snow-white pen the ebon-colored ink, which here thou viewest, beholdest, surveyest, or seest. But to the place where. It standeth north-north-east and by east from the west corner of thy curious-knotted garden. There did I see that low-spirited swain, that base minnow of thy mirth,-- COSTARD Me? KING [reads] that unlettered, small-knowing soul,-- COSTARD Me? KING [reads] that shallow vassal,-- COSTARD Still me? KING [reads] which, as I remember, hight Costard,-- COSTARD O, me! KING [reads] sorted and consorted, contrary to thy established proclaimed edict and continent canon, which with--O with--but with this I passion to say wherewith-- COSTARD With a wench. KING [reads] with a child of our grandmother Eve, a female; or, for thy more sweet understanding, a woman: him, I, as my ever-esteemed duty pricks me on, have sent to thee, to receive the meed of punishment by thy sweet Grace's officer, Anthony Dull, a man of good repute, carriage, bearing, and estimation. DULL Me, an 't shall please you. I am Anthony Dull. KING [reads] For Jaquenetta--so is the weaker vessel called which I apprehended with the aforesaid swain--I keep her as a vessel of thy law's fury, and shall, at the least of thy sweet notice, bring her to trial. Thine, in all compliments of devoted and heartburning heat of duty, Don Adriano de Armado. BEROWNE This is not so well as I looked for, but the best that ever I heard. KING Ay, the best, for the worst. [To Costard.] But, sirrah, what say you to this? COSTARD Sir, I confess the wench. KING Did you hear the proclamation? COSTARD I do confess much of the hearing it, but little of the marking of it. KING It was proclaimed a year's imprisonment to be taken with a wench. COSTARD I was taken with none, sir. I was taken with a damsel. KING Well, it was proclaimed "damsel." COSTARD This was no damsel neither, sir. She was a virgin. BEROWNE It is so varied too, for it was proclaimed "virgin." COSTARD If it were, I deny her virginity. I was taken with a maid. KING This "maid" will not serve your turn, sir. COSTARD This maid will serve my turn, sir. KING Sir, I will pronounce your sentence: you shall fast a week with bran and water. COSTARD I had rather pray a month with mutton and porridge. KING And Don Armado shall be your keeper. My Lord Berowne, see him delivered o'er, And go we, lords, to put in practice that Which each to other hath so strongly sworn. [King, Longaville, and Dumaine exit.] BEROWNE I'll lay my head to any goodman's hat, These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn. Sirrah, come on. COSTARD I suffer for the truth, sir; for true it is I was taken with Jaquenetta, and Jaquenetta is a true girl. And therefore welcome the sour cup of prosperity. Affliction may one day smile again, and till then, sit thee down, sorrow. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Armado and Mote, his page.] ARMADO Boy, what sign is it when a man of great spirit grows melancholy? BOY A great sign, sir, that he will look sad. ARMADO Why, sadness is one and the selfsame thing, dear imp. BOY No, no. O Lord, sir, no! ARMADO How canst thou part sadness and melancholy, my tender juvenal? BOY By a familiar demonstration of the working, my tough signior. ARMADO Why "tough signior"? Why "tough signior"? BOY Why "tender juvenal"? Why "tender juvenal"? ARMADO I spoke it "tender juvenal" as a congruent epitheton appertaining to thy young days, which we may nominate "tender." BOY And I "tough signior" as an appurtenant title to your old time, which we may name "tough." ARMADO Pretty and apt. BOY How mean you, sir? I pretty and my saying apt, or I apt and my saying pretty? ARMADO Thou pretty because little. BOY Little pretty, because little. Wherefore apt? ARMADO And therefore apt, because quick. BOY Speak you this in my praise, master? ARMADO In thy condign praise. BOY I will praise an eel with the same praise. ARMADO What, that an eel is ingenious? BOY That an eel is quick. ARMADO I do say thou art quick in answers. Thou heat'st my blood. BOY I am answered, sir. ARMADO I love not to be crossed. BOY, [aside] He speaks the mere contrary; crosses love not him. ARMADO I have promised to study three years with the Duke. BOY You may do it in an hour, sir. ARMADO Impossible. BOY How many is one thrice told? ARMADO I am ill at reckoning. It fitteth the spirit of a tapster. BOY You are a gentleman and a gamester, sir. ARMADO I confess both. They are both the varnish of a complete man. BOY Then I am sure you know how much the gross sum of deuce-ace amounts to. ARMADO It doth amount to one more than two. BOY Which the base vulgar do call "three." ARMADO True. BOY Why, sir, is this such a piece of study? Now here is "three" studied ere you'll thrice wink. And how easy it is to put "years" to the word "three" and study "three years" in two words, the dancing horse will tell you. ARMADO A most fine figure. BOY, [aside] To prove you a cipher. ARMADO I will hereupon confess I am in love; and as it is base for a soldier to love, so am I in love with a base wench. If drawing my sword against the humor of affection would deliver me from the reprobate thought of it, I would take desire prisoner and ransom him to any French courtier for a new-devised curtsy. I think scorn to sigh; methinks I should outswear Cupid. Comfort me, boy. What great men have been in love? BOY Hercules, master. ARMADO Most sweet Hercules! More authority, dear boy, name more; and, sweet my child, let them be men of good repute and carriage. BOY Samson, master; he was a man of good carriage, great carriage, for he carried the town gates on his back like a porter, and he was in love. ARMADO O, well-knit Samson, strong-jointed Samson; I do excel thee in my rapier as much as thou didst me in carrying gates. I am in love too. Who was Samson's love, my dear Mote? BOY A woman, master. ARMADO Of what complexion? BOY Of all the four, or the three, or the two, or one of the four. ARMADO Tell me precisely of what complexion. BOY Of the sea-water green, sir. ARMADO Is that one of the four complexions? BOY As I have read, sir, and the best of them too. ARMADO Green indeed is the color of lovers. But to have a love of that color, methinks Samson had small reason for it. He surely affected her for her wit. BOY It was so, sir, for she had a green wit. ARMADO My love is most immaculate white and red. BOY Most maculate thoughts, master, are masked under such colors. ARMADO Define, define, well-educated infant. BOY My father's wit and my mother's tongue, assist me. ARMADO Sweet invocation of a child, most pretty and pathetical. BOY If she be made of white and red, Her faults will ne'er be known, For blushing cheeks by faults are bred, And fears by pale white shown. Then if she fear, or be to blame, By this you shall not know, For still her cheeks possess the same Which native she doth owe. A dangerous rhyme, master, against the reason of white and red. ARMADO Is there not a ballad, boy, of "The King and the Beggar"? BOY The world was very guilty of such a ballad some three ages since, but I think now 'tis not to be found; or if it were, it would neither serve for the writing nor the tune. ARMADO I will have that subject newly writ o'er, that I may example my digression by some mighty precedent. Boy, I do love that country girl that I took in the park with the rational hind Costard. She deserves well. BOY, [aside] To be whipped--and yet a better love than my master. ARMADO Sing, boy. My spirit grows heavy in love. BOY, [aside] And that's great marvel, loving a light wench. ARMADO I say sing. BOY Forbear till this company be past. [Enter Clown (Costard,) Constable (Dull,) and Wench (Jaquenetta.)] DULL, [to Armado] Sir, the Duke's pleasure is that you keep Costard safe, and you must suffer him to take no delight, nor no penance, but he must fast three days a week. For this damsel, I must keep her at the park. She is allowed for the dey-woman. Fare you well. ARMADO, [aside] I do betray myself with blushing.-- Maid. JAQUENETTA Man. ARMADO I will visit thee at the lodge. JAQUENETTA That's hereby. ARMADO I know where it is situate. JAQUENETTA Lord, how wise you are. ARMADO I will tell thee wonders. JAQUENETTA With that face? ARMADO I love thee. JAQUENETTA So I heard you say. ARMADO And so, farewell. JAQUENETTA Fair weather after you. DULL Come, Jaquenetta, away. [Dull and Jaquenetta exit.] ARMADO, [to Costard] Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offenses ere thou be pardoned. COSTARD Well, sir, I hope when I do it I shall do it on a full stomach. ARMADO Thou shalt be heavily punished. COSTARD I am more bound to you than your fellows, for they are but lightly rewarded. ARMADO, [to Boy] Take away this villain. Shut him up. BOY Come, you transgressing slave, away. COSTARD, [to Armado] Let me not be pent up, sir. I will fast being loose. BOY No, sir, that were fast and loose. Thou shalt to prison. COSTARD Well, if ever I do see the merry days of desolation that I have seen, some shall see. BOY What shall some see? COSTARD Nay, nothing, Master Mote, but what they look upon. It is not for prisoners to be too silent in their words, and therefore I will say nothing. I thank God I have as little patience as another man, and therefore I can be quiet. [Costard and Boy exit.] ARMADO I do affect the very ground (which is base) where her shoe (which is baser) guided by her foot (which is basest) doth tread. I shall be forsworn (which is a great argument of falsehood) if I love. And how can that be true love which is falsely attempted? Love is a familiar; love is a devil. There is no evil angel but love, yet was Samson so tempted, and he had an excellent strength; yet was Solomon so seduced, and he had a very good wit. Cupid's butt-shaft is too hard for Hercules' club, and therefore too much odds for a Spaniard's rapier. The first and second cause will not serve my turn; the passado he respects not, the duello he regards not. His disgrace is to be called "boy," but his glory is to subdue men. Adieu, valor; rust, rapier; be still, drum, for your manager is in love. Yea, he loveth. Assist me, some extemporal god of rhyme, for I am sure I shall turn sonnet. Devise wit, write pen, for I am for whole volumes in folio. [He exits.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter the Princess of France, with three attending Ladies (Rosaline, Maria, and Katherine), Boyet and other Lords.] BOYET Now, madam, summon up your dearest spirits. Consider who the King your father sends, To whom he sends, and what's his embassy. Yourself, held precious in the world's esteem, To parley with the sole inheritor Of all perfections that a man may owe, Matchless Navarre; the plea of no less weight Than Aquitaine, a dowry for a queen. Be now as prodigal of all dear grace As nature was in making graces dear When she did starve the general world besides And prodigally gave them all to you. PRINCESS Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean, Needs not the painted flourish of your praise. Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye, Not uttered by base sale of chapmen's tongues. I am less proud to hear you tell my worth Than you much willing to be counted wise In spending your wit in the praise of mine. But now to task the tasker: good Boyet, You are not ignorant all-telling fame Doth noise abroad Navarre hath made a vow, Till painful study shall outwear three years, No woman may approach his silent court. Therefore to 's seemeth it a needful course, Before we enter his forbidden gates, To know his pleasure, and in that behalf, Bold of your worthiness, we single you As our best-moving fair solicitor. Tell him the daughter of the King of France On serious business craving quick dispatch, Importunes personal conference with his Grace. Haste, signify so much, while we attend, Like humble-visaged suitors, his high will. BOYET Proud of employment, willingly I go. PRINCESS All pride is willing pride, and yours is so. [Boyet exits.] Who are the votaries, my loving lords, That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke? A LORD Lord Longaville is one. PRINCESS Know you the man? MARIA I know him, madam. At a marriage feast Between Lord Perigort and the beauteous heir Of Jaques Falconbridge, solemnized In Normandy, saw I this Longaville. A man of sovereign parts he is esteemed, Well fitted in arts, glorious in arms. Nothing becomes him ill that he would well. The only soil of his fair virtue's gloss, If virtue's gloss will stain with any soil, Is a sharp wit matched with too blunt a will, Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still wills It should none spare that come within his power. PRINCESS Some merry mocking lord, belike. Is 't so? MARIA They say so most that most his humors know. PRINCESS Such short-lived wits do wither as they grow. Who are the rest? KATHERINE The young Dumaine, a well-accomplished youth, Of all that virtue love for virtue loved. Most power to do most harm, least knowing ill; For he hath wit to make an ill shape good, And shape to win grace though he had no wit. I saw him at the Duke Alanson's once, And much too little of that good I saw Is my report to his great worthiness. ROSALINE Another of these students at that time Was there with him, if I have heard a truth. Berowne they call him, but a merrier man, Within the limit of becoming mirth, I never spent an hour's talk withal. His eye begets occasion for his wit, For every object that the one doth catch The other turns to a mirth-moving jest, Which his fair tongue, conceit's expositor, Delivers in such apt and gracious words That aged ears play truant at his tales, And younger hearings are quite ravished, So sweet and voluble is his discourse. PRINCESS God bless my ladies, are they all in love, That every one her own hath garnished With such bedecking ornaments of praise? A LORD Here comes Boyet. [Enter Boyet.] PRINCESS Now, what admittance, lord? BOYET Navarre had notice of your fair approach, And he and his competitors in oath Were all addressed to meet you, gentle lady, Before I came. Marry, thus much I have learned: He rather means to lodge you in the field, Like one that comes here to besiege his court, Than seek a dispensation for his oath To let you enter his unpeopled house. [Enter King of Navarre, Longaville, Dumaine, and Berowne.] Here comes Navarre. KING Fair Princess, welcome to the court of Navarre. PRINCESS "Fair" I give you back again, and "welcome" I have not yet. The roof of this court is too high to be yours, and welcome to the wide fields too base to be mine. KING You shall be welcome, madam, to my court. PRINCESS I will be welcome, then. Conduct me thither. KING Hear me, dear lady. I have sworn an oath. PRINCESS Our Lady help my lord! He'll be forsworn. KING Not for the world, fair madam, by my will. PRINCESS Why, will shall break it, will and nothing else. KING Your Ladyship is ignorant what it is. PRINCESS Were my lord so, his ignorance were wise, Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance. I hear your Grace hath sworn out housekeeping. 'Tis deadly sin to keep that oath, my lord, And sin to break it. But pardon me, I am too sudden bold. To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me. Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming, And suddenly resolve me in my suit. [She gives him a paper.] KING Madam, I will, if suddenly I may. PRINCESS You will the sooner that I were away, For you'll prove perjured if you make me stay. [They walk aside while the King reads the paper.] BEROWNE, [to Rosaline] Did not I dance with you in Brabant once? ROSALINE Did not I dance with you in Brabant once? BEROWNE I know you did. ROSALINE How needless was it then To ask the question. BEROWNE You must not be so quick. ROSALINE 'Tis long of you that spur me with such questions. BEROWNE Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast; 'twill tire. ROSALINE Not till it leave the rider in the mire. BEROWNE What time o' day? ROSALINE The hour that fools should ask. BEROWNE Now fair befall your mask. ROSALINE Fair fall the face it covers. BEROWNE And send you many lovers. ROSALINE Amen, so you be none. BEROWNE Nay, then, will I be gone. KING, [coming forward with the Princess] Madam, your father here doth intimate The payment of a hundred thousand crowns, Being but the one half of an entire sum Disbursed by my father in his wars. But say that he or we, as neither have, Received that sum, yet there remains unpaid A hundred thousand more, in surety of the which One part of Aquitaine is bound to us, Although not valued to the money's worth. If then the King your father will restore But that one half which is unsatisfied, We will give up our right in Aquitaine, And hold fair friendship with his Majesty. But that, it seems, he little purposeth; For here he doth demand to have repaid A hundred thousand crowns, and not demands, On payment of a hundred thousand crowns, To have his title live in Aquitaine-- Which we much rather had depart withal, And have the money by our father lent, Than Aquitaine, so gelded as it is. Dear Princess, were not his requests so far From reason's yielding, your fair self should make A yielding 'gainst some reason in my breast, And go well satisfied to France again. PRINCESS You do the King my father too much wrong, And wrong the reputation of your name, In so unseeming to confess receipt Of that which hath so faithfully been paid. KING I do protest I never heard of it; And if you prove it, I'll repay it back Or yield up Aquitaine. PRINCESS We arrest your word.-- Boyet, you can produce acquittances For such a sum from special officers Of Charles his father. KING Satisfy me so. BOYET So please your Grace, the packet is not come Where that and other specialties are bound. Tomorrow you shall have a sight of them. KING It shall suffice me; at which interview All liberal reason I will yield unto. Meantime receive such welcome at my hand As honor (without breach of honor) may Make tender of to thy true worthiness. You may not come, fair princess, within my gates, But here without you shall be so received As you shall deem yourself lodged in my heart, Though so denied fair harbor in my house. Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewell. Tomorrow shall we visit you again. PRINCESS Sweet health and fair desires consort your Grace. KING Thy own wish wish I thee in every place. [He exits with Dumaine, Longaville, and Attendants.] BEROWNE, [to Rosaline] Lady, I will commend you to my own heart. ROSALINE Pray you, do my commendations. I would be glad to see it. BEROWNE I would you heard it groan. ROSALINE Is the fool sick? BEROWNE Sick at the heart. ROSALINE Alack, let it blood. BEROWNE Would that do it good? ROSALINE My physic says "ay." BEROWNE Will you prick 't with your eye? ROSALINE No point, with my knife. BEROWNE Now God save thy life. ROSALINE And yours from long living. BEROWNE I cannot stay thanksgiving. [He exits.] [Enter Dumaine.] DUMAINE, [to Boyet] Sir, I pray you, a word. What lady is that same? BOYET The heir of Alanson, Katherine her name. DUMAINE A gallant lady, monsieur. Fare you well. [He exits.] [Enter Longaville.] LONGAVILLE, [to Boyet] I beseech you, a word. What is she in the white? BOYET A woman sometimes, an you saw her in the light. LONGAVILLE Perchance light in the light. I desire her name. BOYET She hath but one for herself; to desire that were a shame. LONGAVILLE Pray you, sir, whose daughter? BOYET Her mother's, I have heard. LONGAVILLE God's blessing on your beard! BOYET Good sir, be not offended. She is an heir of Falconbridge. LONGAVILLE Nay, my choler is ended. She is a most sweet lady. BOYET Not unlike, sir, that may be. [Longaville exits.] [Enter Berowne.] BEROWNE, [to Boyet] What's her name in the cap? BOYET Rosaline, by good hap. BEROWNE Is she wedded or no? BOYET To her will, sir, or so. BEROWNE You are welcome, sir. Adieu. BOYET Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to you. [Berowne exits.] MARIA That last is Berowne, the merry madcap lord. Not a word with him but a jest. BOYET And every jest but a word. PRINCESS It was well done of you to take him at his word. BOYET I was as willing to grapple as he was to board. KATHERINE Two hot sheeps, marry. BOYET And wherefore not ships? No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips. KATHERINE You sheep and I pasture. Shall that finish the jest? BOYET So you grant pasture for me. [He tries to kiss her.] KATHERINE Not so, gentle beast, My lips are no common, though several they be. BOYET Belonging to whom? KATHERINE To my fortunes and me. PRINCESS Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles, agree, This civil war of wits were much better used On Navarre and his bookmen, for here 'tis abused. BOYET If my observation, which very seldom lies, By the heart's still rhetoric, disclosed wi' th' eyes, Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected. PRINCESS With what? BOYET With that which we lovers entitle "affected." PRINCESS Your reason? BOYET Why, all his behaviors did make their retire To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire. His heart like an agate with your print impressed, Proud with his form, in his eye pride expressed. His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see, Did stumble with haste in his eyesight to be; All senses to that sense did make their repair, To feel only looking on fairest of fair. Methought all his senses were locked in his eye, As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy, Who, tend'ring their own worth from where they were glassed, Did point you to buy them along as you passed. His face's own margent did quote such amazes That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes. I'll give you Aquitaine, and all that is his, An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss. PRINCESS, [to her Ladies] Come, to our pavilion. Boyet is disposed. BOYET But to speak that in words which his eye hath disclosed. I only have made a mouth of his eye By adding a tongue which I know will not lie. MARIA Thou art an old lovemonger and speakest skillfully. KATHERINE He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news of him. ROSALINE Then was Venus like her mother, for her father is but grim. BOYET Do you hear, my mad wenches? MARIA No. BOYET What then, do you see? MARIA Ay, our way to be gone. BOYET You are too hard for me. [They all exit.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Braggart Armado and his Boy.] ARMADO Warble, child, make passionate my sense of hearing. BOY [sings] Concolinel. ARMADO Sweet air. Go, tenderness of years. [He hands over a key.] Take this key, give enlargement to the swain, bring him festinately hither. I must employ him in a letter to my love. BOY Master, will you win your love with a French brawl? ARMADO How meanest thou? Brawling in French? BOY No, my complete master, but to jig off a tune at the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet, humor it with turning up your eyelids, sigh a note and sing a note, sometimes through the throat as if you swallowed love with singing love, sometimes through the nose as if you snuffed up love by smelling love; with your hat penthouse-like o'er the shop of your eyes, with your arms crossed on your thin-belly doublet like a rabbit on a spit; or your hands in your pocket like a man after the old painting; and keep not too long in one tune, but a snip and away. These are compliments, these are humors; these betray nice wenches that would be betrayed without these, and make them men of note--do you note me?--that most are affected to these. ARMADO How hast thou purchased this experience? BOY By my penny of observation. ARMADO But O-- but O--. BOY "The hobby-horse is forgot." ARMADO Call'st thou my love "hobby-horse"? BOY No, master. The hobby-horse is but a colt, [aside] and your love perhaps a hackney.--But have you forgot your love? ARMADO Almost I had. BOY Negligent student, learn her by heart. ARMADO By heart and in heart, boy. BOY And out of heart, master. All those three I will prove. ARMADO What wilt thou prove? BOY A man, if I live; and this "by, in, and without," upon the instant: "by" heart you love her, because your heart cannot come by her; "in" heart you love her, because your heart is in love with her; and "out" of heart you love her, being out of heart that you cannot enjoy her. ARMADO I am all these three. BOY And three times as much more, [aside] and yet nothing at all. ARMADO Fetch hither the swain. He must carry me a letter. BOY A message well sympathized--a horse to be ambassador for an ass. ARMADO Ha? Ha? What sayest thou? BOY Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon the horse, for he is very slow-gaited. But I go. ARMADO The way is but short. Away! BOY As swift as lead, sir. ARMADO Thy meaning, pretty ingenious? Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow? BOY Minime, honest master, or rather, master, no. ARMADO I say lead is slow. BOY You are too swift, sir, to say so. Is that lead slow which is fired from a gun? ARMADO Sweet smoke of rhetoric! He reputes me a cannon, and the bullet, that's he.-- I shoot thee at the swain. BOY Thump, then, and I flee. [He exits.] ARMADO A most acute juvenal, voluble and free of grace. By thy favor, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face. Most rude melancholy, valor gives thee place. My herald is returned. [Enter Boy and Clown Costard.] BOY A wonder, master! Here's a costard broken in a shin. ARMADO Some enigma, some riddle. Come, thy l'envoi begin. COSTARD No egma, no riddle, no l'envoi, no salve in the mail, sir. O, sir, plantain, a plain plantain! No l'envoi, no l'envoi, no salve, sir, but a plantain. ARMADO By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; thy silly thought, my spleen. The heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous smiling. O pardon me, my stars! Doth the inconsiderate take salve for l'envoi, and the word l'envoi for a salve? BOY Do the wise think them other? Is not l'envoi a salve? ARMADO No, page, it is an epilogue or discourse to make plain Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain. I will example it: The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee Were still at odds, being but three. There's the moral. Now the l'envoi. BOY I will add the l'envoi. Say the moral again. ARMADO The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee Were still at odds, being but three. BOY Until the goose came out of door And stayed the odds by adding four. Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow with my l'envoi. The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee Were still at odds, being but three. ARMADO Until the goose came out of door, Staying the odds by adding four. BOY A good l'envoi, ending in the goose. Would you desire more? COSTARD The boy hath sold him a bargain--a goose, that's flat.-- Sir, your pennyworth is good, an your goose be fat. To sell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and loose. Let me see: a fat l'envoi--ay, that's a fat goose. ARMADO Come hither, come hither. How did this argument begin? BOY By saying that a costard was broken in a shin. Then called you for the l'envoi. COSTARD True, and I for a plantain. Thus came your argument in. Then the boy's fat l'envoi, the goose that you bought; and he ended the market. ARMADO But tell me, how was there a costard broken in a shin? BOY I will tell you sensibly. COSTARD Thou hast no feeling of it, Mote. I will speak that l'envoi. I, Costard, running out, that was safely within, Fell over the threshold and broke my shin. ARMADO We will talk no more of this matter. COSTARD Till there be more matter in the shin. ARMADO Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise thee. COSTARD O, marry me to one Frances! I smell some l'envoi, some goose, in this. ARMADO By my sweet soul, I mean, setting thee at liberty, enfreedoming thy person. Thou wert immured, restrained, captivated, bound. COSTARD True, true; and now you will be my purgation, and let me loose. ARMADO I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance, and, in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this: bear this significant to the country maid Jaquenetta. [(He gives him a paper.)] There is remuneration [(giving him a coin,)] for the best ward of mine honor is rewarding my dependents.--Mote, follow. [He exits.] BOY Like the sequel, I. Signior Costard, adieu. [He exits.] COSTARD My sweet ounce of man's flesh, my incony Jew! Now will I look to his remuneration. [He looks at the coin.] "Remuneration"! O, that's the Latin word for three farthings. Three farthings--remuneration. "What's the price of this inkle?" "One penny." "No, I'll give you a remuneration." Why, it carries it! Remuneration. Why, it is a fairer name than "French crown." I will never buy and sell out of this word. [Enter Berowne.] BEROWNE My good knave Costard, exceedingly well met. COSTARD Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon may a man buy for a remuneration? BEROWNE What is a remuneration? COSTARD Marry, sir, halfpenny farthing. BEROWNE Why then, three farthing worth of silk. COSTARD I thank your Worship. God be wi' you. [He begins to exit.] BEROWNE Stay, slave, I must employ thee. As thou wilt win my favor, good my knave, Do one thing for me that I shall entreat. COSTARD When would you have it done, sir? BEROWNE This afternoon. COSTARD Well, I will do it, sir. Fare you well. BEROWNE Thou knowest not what it is. COSTARD I shall know, sir, when I have done it. BEROWNE Why, villain, thou must know first. COSTARD I will come to your Worship tomorrow morning. BEROWNE It must be done this afternoon. Hark, slave, it is but this: The Princess comes to hunt here in the park, And in her train there is a gentle lady. When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her name, And Rosaline they call her. Ask for her, And to her white hand see thou do commend This sealed-up counsel. There's thy guerdon. [He gives him money.] Go. COSTARD Gardon. [He looks at the money.] O sweet gardon! Better than remuneration, a 'levenpence farthing better! Most sweet gardon. I will do it, sir, in print. Gardon! Remuneration! [He exits.] BEROWNE And I forsooth in love! I that have been love's whip, A very beadle to a humorous sigh, A critic, nay, a nightwatch constable, A domineering pedant o'er the boy, Than whom no mortal so magnificent. This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy, This Signior Junior, giant dwarf, Dan Cupid, Regent of love rhymes, lord of folded arms, Th' anointed sovereign of sighs and groans, Liege of all loiterers and malcontents, Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces, Sole imperator and great general Of trotting paritors--O my little heart! And I to be a corporal of his field And wear his colors like a tumbler's hoop! What? I love, I sue, I seek a wife? A woman, that is like a German clock, Still a-repairing, ever out of frame, And never going aright, being a watch, But being watched that it may still go right. Nay, to be perjured, which is worst of all. And, among three, to love the worst of all, A whitely wanton with a velvet brow, With two pitch-balls stuck in her face for eyes. Ay, and by heaven, one that will do the deed Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard. And I to sigh for her, to watch for her, To pray for her! Go to. It is a plague That Cupid will impose for my neglect Of his almighty dreadful little might. Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, groan. Some men must love my lady, and some Joan. [He exits.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter the Princess, a Forester, her Ladies, Boyet and her other Lords.] PRINCESS Was that the King that spurred his horse so hard Against the steep uprising of the hill? FORESTER I know not, but I think it was not he. PRINCESS Whoe'er he was, he showed a mounting mind.-- Well, lords, today we shall have our dispatch. Or Saturday we will return to France.-- Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush That we must stand and play the murderer in? FORESTER Hereby, upon the edge of yonder coppice, A stand where you may make the fairest shoot. PRINCESS I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot, And thereupon thou speakst "the fairest shoot." FORESTER Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so. PRINCESS What, what? First praise me, and again say no? O short-lived pride. Not fair? Alack, for woe! FORESTER Yes, madam, fair. PRINCESS Nay, never paint me now. Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow. Here, good my glass, take this for telling true. [She gives him money.] Fair payment for foul words is more than due. FORESTER Nothing but fair is that which you inherit. PRINCESS See, see, my beauty will be saved by merit. O heresy in fair, fit for these days! A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise. But come, the bow. [He hands her a bow.] Now mercy goes to kill, And shooting well is then accounted ill. Thus will I save my credit in the shoot: Not wounding, pity would not let me do 't; If wounding, then it was to show my skill, That more for praise than purpose meant to kill. And out of question so it is sometimes: Glory grows guilty of detested crimes, When for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part, We bend to that the working of the heart; As I for praise alone now seek to spill The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill. BOYET Do not curst wives hold that self sovereignty Only for praise' sake when they strive to be Lords o'er their lords? PRINCESS Only for praise; and praise we may afford To any lady that subdues a lord. [Enter Clown Costard.] BOYET Here comes a member of the commonwealth. COSTARD God dig-you-den all! Pray you, which is the head lady? PRINCESS Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads. COSTARD Which is the greatest lady, the highest? PRINCESS The thickest and the tallest. COSTARD The thickest and the tallest: it is so, truth is truth. An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit, One o' these maids' girdles for your waist should be fit. Are not you the chief woman? You are the thickest here. PRINCESS What's your will, sir? What's your will? COSTARD I have a letter from Monsieur Berowne to one Lady Rosaline. PRINCESS O, thy letter, thy letter! He's a good friend of mine. Stand aside, good bearer.--Boyet, you can carve. Break up this capon. BOYET, [taking the letter] I am bound to serve. This letter is mistook; it importeth none here. It is writ to Jaquenetta. PRINCESS We will read it, I swear. Break the neck of the wax, and everyone give ear. BOYET [reads.] By heaven, that thou art fair is most infallible, true that thou art beauteous, truth itself that thou art lovely. More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth itself, have commiseration on thy heroical vassal. The magnanimous and most illustrate King Cophetua set eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon; and he it was that might rightly say "Veni, vidi, vici," which to annothanize in the vulgar (O base and obscure vulgar!) videlicet, "He came, see, and overcame": He came, one; see, two; overcame, three. Who came? The King. Why did he come? To see. Why did he see? To overcome. To whom came he? To the beggar. What saw he? The beggar. Who overcame he? The beggar. The conclusion is victory. On whose side? The King's. The captive is enriched. On whose side? The beggar's. The catastrophe is a nuptial. On whose side? The King's--no, on both in one, or one in both. I am the King, for so stands the comparison; thou the beggar, for so witnesseth thy lowliness. Shall I command thy love? I may. Shall I enforce thy love? I could. Shall I entreat thy love? I will. What shalt thou exchange for rags? Robes. For tittles? Titles. For thyself? Me. Thus expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every part. Thine, in the dearest design of industry, Don Adriano de Armado. Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar 'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey. Submissive fall his princely feet before, And he from forage will incline to play. But if thou strive, poor soul, what art thou then? Food for his rage, repasture for his den. PRINCESS What plume of feathers is he that indited this letter? What vane? What weathercock? Did you ever hear better? BOYET I am much deceived but I remember the style. PRINCESS Else your memory is bad, going o'er it erewhile. BOYET This Armado is a Spaniard that keeps here in court, A phantasime, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport To the Prince and his bookmates. PRINCESS, [to Costard] Thou, fellow, a word. Who gave thee this letter? COSTARD I told you: my lord. PRINCESS To whom shouldst thou give it? COSTARD From my lord to my lady. PRINCESS From which lord to which lady? COSTARD From my Lord Berowne, a good master of mine, To a lady of France that he called Rosaline. PRINCESS Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come, lords, away. [To Rosaline.] Here, sweet, put up this; 'twill be thine another day. [The Princess, Katherine, Lords, and Forester exit. Boyet, Rosaline, Maria, and Costard remain.] BOYET Who is the shooter? Who is the shooter? ROSALINE Shall I teach you to know? BOYET Ay, my continent of beauty. ROSALINE Why, she that bears the bow. Finely put off. BOYET My lady goes to kill horns, but if thou marry, Hang me by the neck if horns that year miscarry. Finely put on. ROSALINE Well, then, I am the shooter. BOYET And who is your deer? ROSALINE If we choose by the horns, yourself come not near. Finely put on, indeed. MARIA You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she strikes at the brow. BOYET But she herself is hit lower. Have I hit her now? ROSALINE Shall I come upon thee with an old saying, that was a man when King Pippen of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it? BOYET So I may answer thee with one as old, that was a woman when Queen Guinover of Britain was a little wench, as touching the hit it. ROSALINE [sings] Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it, Thou canst not hit it, my good man. BOYET [sings] An I cannot, cannot, cannot, An I cannot, another can. [Rosaline exits.] COSTARD By my troth, most pleasant. How both did fit it! MARIA A mark marvelous well shot, for they both did hit it. BOYET A mark! O, mark but that mark. "A mark," says my lady. Let the mark have a prick in 't to mete at, if it may be. MARIA Wide o' the bow hand! I' faith, your hand is out. COSTARD Indeed, he must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er hit the clout. BOYET, [to Maria] An if my hand be out, then belike your hand is in. COSTARD Then will she get the upshoot by cleaving the pin. MARIA Come, come, you talk greasily. Your lips grow foul. COSTARD, [to Boyet] She's too hard for you at pricks, sir. Challenge her to bowl. BOYET I fear too much rubbing. Good night, my good owl. [Boyet and Maria exit.] COSTARD By my soul, a swain, a most simple clown. Lord, Lord, how the ladies and I have put him down. O' my troth, most sweet jests, most incony vulgar wit, When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were, so fit. Armado o' th' one side, O, a most dainty man! To see him walk before a lady and to bear her fan. To see him kiss his hand, and how most sweetly he will swear. And his page o' t' other side, that handful of wit! Ah heavens, it is a most pathetical nit. [Shout within.] Sola, sola! [He exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Dull the Constable, Holofernes the Pedant, and Nathaniel the Curate.] NATHANIEL Very reverend sport, truly, and done in the testimony of a good conscience. HOLOFERNES The deer was, as you know, sanguis, in blood, ripe as the pomewater, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of caelo, the sky, the welkin, the heaven, and anon falleth like a crab on the face of terra, the soil, the land, the earth. NATHANIEL Truly, Master Holofernes, the epithets are sweetly varied, like a scholar at the least. But, sir, I assure you, it was a buck of the first head. HOLOFERNES Sir Nathaniel, haud credo. DULL 'Twas not a haud credo, 'twas a pricket. HOLOFERNES Most barbarous intimation! Yet a kind of insinuation, as it were, in via, in way, of explication; facere, as it were, replication, or rather, ostentare, to show, as it were, his inclination, after his undressed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or rather unlettered, or ratherest, unconfirmed fashion, to insert again my haud credo for a deer. DULL I said the deer was not a haud credo, 'twas a pricket. HOLOFERNES Twice-sod simplicity, bis coctus! O thou monster ignorance, how deformed dost thou look! NATHANIEL Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book. He hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink. His intellect is not replenished. He is only an animal, only sensible in the duller parts. And such barren plants are set before us that we thankful should be-- Which we of taste and feeling are--for those parts that do fructify in us more than he. For as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet, or a fool, So were there a patch set on learning, to see him in a school. But omne bene, say I, being of an old father's mind: Many can brook the weather that love not the wind. DULL You two are bookmen. Can you tell me by your wit What was a month old at Cain's birth that's not five weeks old as yet? HOLOFERNES Dictynna, goodman Dull, Dictynna, goodman Dull. DULL What is "dictima"? NATHANIEL A title to Phoebe, to Luna, to the moon. HOLOFERNES The moon was a month old when Adam was no more. And raught not to five weeks when he came to fivescore. Th' allusion holds in the exchange. DULL 'Tis true indeed. The collusion holds in the exchange. HOLOFERNES God comfort thy capacity! I say, th' allusion holds in the exchange. DULL And I say the pollution holds in the exchange, for the moon is never but a month old. And I say besides that, 'twas a pricket that the Princess killed. HOLOFERNES Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph on the death of the deer? And, to humor the ignorant, call I the deer the Princess killed a pricket. NATHANIEL Perge, good Master Holofernes, perge, so it shall please you to abrogate scurrility. HOLOFERNES I will something affect the letter, for it argues facility. The preyful princess pierced and pricked a pretty pleasing pricket, Some say a sore, but not a sore till now made sore with shooting. The dogs did yell. Put "l" to "sore," then sorel jumps from thicket, Or pricket sore, or else sorel. The people fall a-hooting. If sore be sore, then "L" to "sore" makes fifty sores o' sorel. Of one sore I an hundred make by adding but one more "L." NATHANIEL A rare talent. DULL, [aside] If a talent be a claw, look how he claws him with a talent. HOLOFERNES This is a gift that I have, simple, simple-- a foolish extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures, shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, revolutions. These are begot in the ventricle of memory, nourished in the womb of pia mater, and delivered upon the mellowing of occasion. But the gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and I am thankful for it. NATHANIEL Sir, I praise the Lord for you, and so may my parishioners, for their sons are well tutored by you, and their daughters profit very greatly under you. You are a good member of the commonwealth. HOLOFERNES Mehercle, if their sons be ingenious, they shall want no instruction; if their daughters be capable, I will put it to them. But Vir sapis qui pauca loquitur. A soul feminine saluteth us. [Enter Jaquenetta and the Clown Costard.] JAQUENETTA, [to Nathaniel] God give you good morrow, Master Person. HOLOFERNES Master Person, quasi pierce one. And if one should be pierced, which is the one? COSTARD Marry, Master Schoolmaster, he that is likeliest to a hogshead. HOLOFERNES Of piercing a hogshead! A good luster of conceit in a turf of earth; fire enough for a flint, pearl enough for a swine. 'Tis pretty, it is well. JAQUENETTA, [to Nathaniel] Good Master Parson, be so good as read me this letter. It was given me by Costard, and sent me from Don Armado. I beseech you, read it. [She hands Nathaniel a paper, which he looks at.] HOLOFERNES Facile precor gelida quando peccas omnia sub umbra. Ruminat-- and so forth. Ah, good old Mantuan! I may speak of thee as the traveler doth of Venice: Venetia, Venetia, Chi non ti vede, non ti pretia. Old Mantuan, old Mantuan! Who understandeth thee not, loves thee not. [(He sings.)] Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa. [(To Nathaniel.)] Under pardon, sir, what are the contents? Or rather, as Horace says in his-- [(Looking at the letter.)] What, my soul, verses? NATHANIEL Ay, sir, and very learned. HOLOFERNES Let me hear a staff, a stanza, a verse, Lege, domine. NATHANIEL, [reads] If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love? Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vowed! Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful prove. Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like osiers bowed. Study his bias leaves and makes his book thine eyes, Where all those pleasures live that art would comprehend. If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice. Well-learned is that tongue that well can thee commend. All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder; Which is to me some praise that I thy parts admire. Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful thunder, Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire. Celestial as thou art, O, pardon love this wrong, That sings heaven's praise with such an earthly tongue. HOLOFERNES You find not the apostrophus, and so miss the accent. Let me supervise the canzonet. [He takes the paper.] Here are only numbers ratified, but, for the elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poesy--caret. Ovidius Naso was the man. And why indeed "Naso," but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy, the jerks of invention? Imitari is nothing: so doth the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired horse his rider.--But damosella virgin, was this directed to you? JAQUENETTA Ay, sir, from one Monsieur Berowne, one of the strange queen's lords. HOLOFERNES I will overglance the superscript: "To the snow-white hand of the most beauteous Lady Rosaline." I will look again on the intellect of the letter for the nomination of the party writing to the person written unto: "Your Ladyship's in all desired employment, Berowne." Sir Nathaniel, this Berowne is one of the votaries with the King, and here he hath framed a letter to a sequent of the stranger queen's: which accidentally, or by the way of progression, hath miscarried. [To Jaquenetta.] Trip and go, my sweet. Deliver this paper into the royal hand of the King. It may concern much. Stay not thy compliment. I forgive thy duty. Adieu. JAQUENETTA Good Costard, go with me.--Sir, God save your life. COSTARD Have with thee, my girl. [Costard and Jaquenetta exit.] NATHANIEL Sir, you have done this in the fear of God very religiously; and, as a certain Father saith-- HOLOFERNES Sir, tell not me of the Father. I do fear colorable colors. But to return to the verses: did they please you, Sir Nathaniel? NATHANIEL Marvelous well for the pen. HOLOFERNES I do dine today at the father's of a certain pupil of mine, where if, before repast, it shall please you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my privilege I have with the parents of the foresaid child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where I will prove those verses to be very unlearned, neither savoring of poetry, wit, nor invention. I beseech your society. NATHANIEL And thank you too; for society, saith the text, is the happiness of life. HOLOFERNES And certes the text most infallibly concludes it. [To Dull.] Sir, I do invite you too. You shall not say me nay. Pauca verba. Away! The gentles are at their game, and we will to our recreation. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Berowne with a paper in his hand, alone.] BEROWNE The King, he is hunting the deer; I am coursing myself. They have pitched a toil; I am toiling in a pitch--pitch that defiles. Defile! A foul word. Well, "set thee down, sorrow"; for so they say the fool said, and so say I, and I the fool. Well proved, wit. By the Lord, this love is as mad as Ajax. It kills sheep, it kills me, I a sheep. Well proved again, o' my side. I will not love. If I do, hang me. I' faith, I will not. O, but her eye! By this light, but for her eye I would not love her; yes, for her two eyes. Well, I do nothing in the world but lie, and lie in my throat. By heaven, I do love, and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to be melancholy. And here is part of my rhyme, and here my melancholy. Well, she hath one o' my sonnets already. The clown bore it, the fool sent it, and the lady hath it. Sweet clown, sweeter fool, sweetest lady. By the world, I would not care a pin, if the other three were in. Here comes one with a paper. God give him grace to groan. [He stands aside.] [The King entereth with a paper.] KING Ay me! BEROWNE, [aside] Shot, by heaven! Proceed, sweet Cupid. Thou hast thumped him with thy birdbolt under the left pap. In faith, secrets! KING [reads] So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not To those fresh morning drops upon the rose As thy eyebeams, when their fresh rays have smote The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows. Nor shines the silver moon one-half so bright Through the transparent bosom of the deep As doth thy face, through tears of mine, give light. Thou shin'st in every tear that I do weep. No drop but as a coach doth carry thee; So ridest thou triumphing in my woe. Do but behold the tears that swell in me, And they thy glory through my grief will show. But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep My tears for glasses, and still make me weep. O queen of queens, how far dost thou excel No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell. How shall she know my griefs? I'll drop the paper. Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes here? [Enter Longaville, with papers. The King steps aside.] What, Longaville, and reading! Listen, ear. BEROWNE, [aside] Now, in thy likeness, one more fool appear! LONGAVILLE Ay me! I am forsworn. BEROWNE, [aside] Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing papers! KING, [aside] In love, I hope! Sweet fellowship in shame. BEROWNE, [aside] One drunkard loves another of the name. LONGAVILLE Am I the first that have been perjured so? BEROWNE, [aside] I could put thee in comfort: not by two that I know. Thou makest the triumviry, the corner-cap of society, The shape of love's Tyburn, that hangs up simplicity. LONGAVILLE I fear these stubborn lines lack power to move. [Reads.] O sweet Maria, empress of my love-- These numbers will I tear and write in prose. [He tears the paper.] BEROWNE, [aside] O, rhymes are guards on wanton Cupid's hose. Disfigure not his shop! LONGAVILLE, [taking another paper] This same shall go. [He reads the sonnet.] Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye, 'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument, Persuade my heart to this false perjury? Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment. A woman I forswore, but I will prove, Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee. My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love. Thy grace being gained cures all disgrace in me. Vows are but breath, and breath a vapor is. Then thou, fair sun, which on my Earth dost shine, Exhal'st this vapor-vow; in thee it is. If broken, then, it is no fault of mine. If by me broke, what fool is not so wise To lose an oath to win a paradise? BEROWNE, [aside] This is the liver vein, which makes flesh a deity, A green goose a goddess. Pure, pure idolatry. God amend us, God amend. We are much out o' th' way. LONGAVILLE By whom shall I send this?--Company? Stay. [He steps aside.] [Enter Dumaine, with a paper.] BEROWNE, [aside] All hid, all hid--an old infant play. Like a demigod here sit I in the sky, And wretched fools' secrets heedfully o'ereye. More sacks to the mill. O heavens, I have my wish. Dumaine transformed! Four woodcocks in a dish. DUMAINE O most divine Kate! BEROWNE, [aside] O most profane coxcomb! DUMAINE By heaven, the wonder in a mortal eye! BEROWNE, [aside] By Earth, she is not, corporal. There you lie. DUMAINE Her amber hairs for foul hath amber quoted. BEROWNE, [aside] An amber-colored raven was well noted. DUMAINE As upright as the cedar. BEROWNE, [aside] Stoop, I say. Her shoulder is with child. DUMAINE As fair as day. BEROWNE, [aside] Ay, as some days, but then no sun must shine. DUMAINE O, that I had my wish! LONGAVILLE, [aside] And I had mine! KING, [aside] And mine too, good Lord! BEROWNE, [aside] Amen, so I had mine. Is not that a good word? DUMAINE I would forget her, but a fever she Reigns in my blood, and will remembered be. BEROWNE, [aside] A fever in your blood? Why, then incision Would let her out in saucers! Sweet misprision. DUMAINE Once more I'll read the ode that I have writ. BEROWNE, [aside] Once more I'll mark how love can vary wit. DUMAINE [reads his sonnet.] On a day--alack the day!-- Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair, Playing in the wanton air. Through the velvet leaves the wind, All unseen, can passage find; That the lover, sick to death, Wished himself the heaven's breath. "Air," quoth he, "thy cheeks may blow. Air, would I might triumph so!" But, alack, my hand is sworn Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn. Vow, alack, for youth unmeet, Youth so apt to pluck a sweet. Do not call it sin in me That I am forsworn for thee-- Thou for whom Jove would swear Juno but an Ethiope were, And deny himself for Jove, Turning mortal for thy love. This will I send, and something else more plain That shall express my true love's fasting pain. O, would the King, Berowne, and Longaville Were lovers too! Ill to example ill Would from my forehead wipe a perjured note, For none offend where all alike do dote. LONGAVILLE, [coming forward] Dumaine, thy love is far from charity, That in love's grief desir'st society. You may look pale, but I should blush, I know, To be o'er-heard and taken napping so. KING, [coming forward] [To Longaville.] Come, sir, you blush! As his, your case is such. You chide at him, offending twice as much. You do not love Maria? Longaville Did never sonnet for her sake compile, Nor never lay his wreathed arms athwart His loving bosom to keep down his heart? I have been closely shrouded in this bush And marked you both, and for you both did blush. I heard your guilty rhymes, observed your fashion, Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your passion. "Ay, me!" says one. "O Jove!" the other cries. One, her hairs were gold, crystal the other's eyes. [To Longaville.] You would for paradise break faith and troth, [To Dumaine.] And Jove, for your love, would infringe an oath. What will Berowne say when that he shall hear Faith infringed, which such zeal did swear? How will he scorn, how will he spend his wit! How will he triumph, leap, and laugh at it! For all the wealth that ever I did see, I would not have him know so much by me. BEROWNE, [coming forward] Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy. Ah, good my liege, I pray thee pardon me. Good heart, what grace hast thou thus to reprove These worms for loving, that art most in love? Your eyes do make no coaches; in your tears There is no certain princess that appears. You'll not be perjured, 'tis a hateful thing! Tush, none but minstrels like of sonneting! But are you not ashamed? Nay, are you not, All three of you, to be thus much o'ershot? [To Longaville.] You found his mote, the King your mote did see, But I a beam do find in each of three. O, what a scene of fool'ry have I seen, Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow, and of teen! O me, with what strict patience have I sat, To see a king transformed to a gnat! To see great Hercules whipping a gig, And profound Solomon to tune a jig, And Nestor play at pushpin with the boys, And critic Timon laugh at idle toys. Where lies thy grief, O tell me, good Dumaine? And gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain? And where my liege's? All about the breast! A caudle, ho! KING Too bitter is thy jest. Are we betrayed thus to thy overview? BEROWNE Not you to me, but I betrayed by you. I, that am honest, I, that hold it sin To break the vow I am engaged in. I am betrayed by keeping company With men like you, men of inconstancy. When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme? Or groan for Joan? or spend a minute's time In pruning me? When shall you hear that I Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye, A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist, A leg, a limb-- [Enter Jaquenetta, with a paper, and Clown Costard.] [Berowne begins to exit.] KING Soft, whither away so fast? A true man, or a thief, that gallops so? BEROWNE I post from love. Good lover, let me go. JAQUENETTA God bless the King. KING What present hast thou there? COSTARD Some certain treason. KING What makes treason here? COSTARD Nay, it makes nothing, sir. KING If it mar nothing neither, The treason and you go in peace away together. JAQUENETTA I beseech your Grace, let this letter be read. Our person misdoubts it. 'Twas treason, he said. KING Berowne, read it over. [Berowne reads the letter.] [To Jaquenetta.] Where hadst thou it? JAQUENETTA Of Costard. KING, [to Costard] Where hadst thou it? COSTARD Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio. [Berowne tears the paper.] KING, [to Berowne] How now, what is in you? Why dost thou tear it? BEROWNE A toy, my liege, a toy. Your Grace needs not fear it. LONGAVILLE It did move him to passion, and therefore let's hear it. DUMAINE, [picking up the papers] It is Berowne's writing, and here is his name. BEROWNE, [to Costard] Ah, you whoreson loggerhead, you were born to do me shame.-- Guilty, my lord, guilty. I confess, I confess. KING What? BEROWNE That you three fools lacked me fool to make up the mess. He, he, and you--and you, my liege--and I Are pickpurses in love, and we deserve to die. O, dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more. DUMAINE Now the number is even. BEROWNE True, true, we are four. [Pointing to Jaquenetta and Costard.] Will these turtles be gone? KING Hence, sirs. Away. COSTARD Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors stay. [Jaquenetta and Costard exit.] BEROWNE Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O, let us embrace. As true we are as flesh and blood can be. The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his face; Young blood doth not obey an old decree. We cannot cross the cause why we were born; Therefore of all hands must we be forsworn. KING What, did these rent lines show some love of thine? BEROWNE Did they, quoth you? Who sees the heavenly Rosaline That, like a rude and savage man of Ind At the first op'ning of the gorgeous East, Bows not his vassal head and, strucken blind, Kisses the base ground with obedient breast? What peremptory eagle-sighted eye Dares look upon the heaven of her brow That is not blinded by her majesty? KING What zeal, what fury, hath inspired thee now? My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon, She an attending star scarce seen a light. BEROWNE My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Berowne. O, but for my love, day would turn to night! Of all complexions the culled sovereignty Do meet as at a fair in her fair cheek. Where several worthies make one dignity, Where nothing wants that want itself doth seek. Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues-- Fie, painted rhetoric! O, she needs it not! To things of sale a seller's praise belongs. She passes praise. Then praise too short doth blot. A withered hermit, fivescore winters worn, Might shake off fifty, looking in her eye. Beauty doth varnish age, as if newborn, And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy. O, 'tis the sun that maketh all things shine! KING By heaven, thy love is black as ebony. BEROWNE Is ebony like her? O word divine! A wife of such wood were felicity. O, who can give an oath? Where is a book, That I may swear beauty doth beauty lack If that she learn not of her eye to look? No face is fair that is not full so black. KING O, paradox! Black is the badge of hell, The hue of dungeons and the school of night, And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well. BEROWNE Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light. O, if in black my lady's brows be decked, It mourns that painting and usurping hair Should ravish doters with a false aspect: And therefore is she born to make black fair. Her favor turns the fashion of the days, For native blood is counted painting now. And therefore red, that would avoid dispraise, Paints itself black to imitate her brow. DUMAINE To look like her are chimney-sweepers black. LONGAVILLE And since her time are colliers counted bright. KING And Ethiopes of their sweet complexion crack. DUMAINE Dark needs no candles now, for dark is light. BEROWNE Your mistresses dare never come in rain, For fear their colors should be washed away. KING 'Twere good yours did, for, sir, to tell you plain, I'll find a fairer face not washed today. BEROWNE I'll prove her fair, or talk till doomsday here. KING No devil will fright thee then so much as she. DUMAINE I never knew man hold vile stuff so dear. LONGAVILLE, [showing his shoe] Look, here's thy love; my foot and her face see. BEROWNE O, if the streets were paved with thine eyes. Her feet were much too dainty for such tread. DUMAINE O vile! Then as she goes, what upward lies The street should see as she walked overhead. KING But what of this? Are we not all in love? BEROWNE Nothing so sure, and thereby all forsworn. KING Then leave this chat, and, good Berowne, now prove Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn. DUMAINE Ay, marry, there, some flattery for this evil. LONGAVILLE O, some authority how to proceed, Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the devil. DUMAINE Some salve for perjury. BEROWNE O, 'tis more than need. Have at you, then, affection's men-at-arms! O, we have made a vow to study, lords, And in that vow we have forsworn our books. For when would you, my liege, or you, or you, In leaden contemplation have found out Such fiery numbers as the prompting eyes Of beauty's tutors have enriched you with? Other slow arts entirely keep the brain And therefore, finding barren practicers, Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil. But love, first learned in a lady's eyes, Lives not alone immured in the brain, But with the motion of all elements Courses as swift as thought in every power, And gives to every power a double power, Above their functions and their offices. It adds a precious seeing to the eye. A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind. A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound, When the suspicious head of theft is stopped. Love's feeling is more soft and sensible Than are the tender horns of cockled snails. Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste. For valor, is not love a Hercules, Still climbing trees in the Hesperides? Subtle as Sphinx, as sweet and musical As bright Apollo's lute strung with his hair. And when love speaks, the voice of all the gods Make heaven drowsy with the harmony. Never durst poet touch a pen to write Until his ink were tempered with love's sighs. O, then his lines would ravish savage ears And plant in tyrants mild humility. From women's eyes this doctrine I derive. They sparkle still the right Promethean fire. They are the books, the arts, the academes That show, contain, and nourish all the world. Else none at all in ought proves excellent. Then fools you were these women to forswear, Or, keeping what is sworn, you will prove fools. For wisdom's sake, a word that all men love, Or for love's sake, a word that loves all men, Or for men's sake, the authors of these women, Or women's sake, by whom we men are men, Let us once lose our oaths to find ourselves, Or else we lose ourselves to keep our oaths. It is religion to be thus forsworn, For charity itself fulfills the law, And who can sever love from charity? KING Saint Cupid, then, and, soldiers, to the field! BEROWNE Advance your standards, and upon them, lords. Pell-mell, down with them. But be first advised In conflict that you get the sun of them. LONGAVILLE Now to plain dealing. Lay these glozes by. Shall we resolve to woo these girls of France? KING And win them, too. Therefore let us devise Some entertainment for them in their tents. BEROWNE First, from the park let us conduct them thither. Then homeward every man attach the hand Of his fair mistress. In the afternoon We will with some strange pastime solace them, Such as the shortness of the time can shape; For revels, dances, masques, and merry hours Forerun fair love, strewing her way with flowers. KING Away, away! No time shall be omitted That will betime and may by us be fitted. BEROWNE Allons! Allons! Sowed cockle reaped no corn, And justice always whirls in equal measure. Light wenches may prove plagues to men forsworn; If so, our copper buys no better treasure. [They exit.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Holofernes the Pedant, Nathaniel the Curate, and Dull the Constable.] HOLOFERNES Satis quid sufficit. NATHANIEL I praise God for you, sir. Your reasons at dinner have been sharp and sententious, pleasant without scurrility, witty without affection, audacious without impudency, learned without opinion, and strange without heresy. I did converse this quondam day with a companion of the King's, who is intituled, nominated, or called Don Adriano de Armado. HOLOFERNES Novi hominem tanquam te. His humor is lofty, his discourse peremptory, his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his gait majestical, and his general behavior vain, ridiculous, and thrasonical. He is too picked, too spruce, too affected, too odd, as it were, too peregrinate, as I may call it. NATHANIEL A most singular and choice epithet. [Draw out his table book.] HOLOFERNES He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument. I abhor such fanatical phantasimes, such insociable and point-devise companions, such rackers of orthography, as to speak "dout," fine, when he should say "doubt"; "det" when he should pronounce "debt"--d, e, b, t, not d, e, t. He clepeth a calf "cauf," half "hauf," neighbor vocatur "nebor"; neigh abbreviated ne. This is abhominable--which he would call "abominable." It insinuateth me of insanie. Ne intelligis, domine? To make frantic, lunatic. NATHANIEL Laus Deo, bone intelligo. HOLOFERNES Bone? Bone for bene? Priscian a little scratched; 'twill serve. [Enter Armado the Braggart, Boy, and Costard.] NATHANIEL Videsne quis venit? HOLOFERNES Video, et gaudeo. ARMADO Chirrah. HOLOFERNES Quare "chirrah," not "sirrah"? ARMADO Men of peace, well encountered. HOLOFERNES Most military sir, salutation. BOY, [aside to Costard] They have been at a great feast of languages and stolen the scraps. COSTARD, [aside to Boy] O, they have lived long on the almsbasket of words. I marvel thy master hath not eaten thee for a word, for thou art not so long by the head as honorificabilitudinitatibus. Thou art easier swallowed than a flapdragon. BOY, [aside to Costard] Peace, the peal begins. ARMADO, [to Holofernes] Monsieur, are you not lettered? BOY Yes, yes, he teaches boys the hornbook.--What is a, b spelled backward, with the horn on his head? HOLOFERNES Ba, pueritia, with a horn added. BOY Ba, most silly sheep, with a horn.--You hear his learning. HOLOFERNES Quis, quis, thou consonant? BOY The last of the five vowels, if you repeat them; or the fifth, if I. HOLOFERNES I will repeat them: a, e, i-- BOY The sheep. The other two concludes it: o, u. ARMADO Now by the salt wave of the Mediterraneum, a sweet touch, a quick venue of wit! Snip, snap, quick and home. It rejoiceth my intellect. True wit. BOY Offered by a child to an old man--which is wit-old. HOLOFERNES What is the figure? What is the figure? BOY Horns. HOLOFERNES Thou disputes like an infant. Go whip thy gig. BOY Lend me your horn to make one, and I will whip about your infamy--unum cita--a gig of a cuckold's horn. COSTARD An I had but one penny in the world, thou shouldst have it to buy gingerbread! Hold, there is the very remuneration I had of thy master, thou halfpenny purse of wit, thou pigeon egg of discretion. [He gives him money.] O, an the heavens were so pleased that thou wert but my bastard, what a joyful father wouldest thou make me! Go to, thou hast it ad dunghill, at the fingers' ends, as they say. HOLOFERNES Oh, I smell false Latin! Dunghill for unguem. ARMADO Arts-man, preambulate. We will be singuled from the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the charge-house on the top of the mountain? HOLOFERNES Or mons, the hill. ARMADO At your sweet pleasure, for the mountain. HOLOFERNES I do, sans question. ARMADO Sir, it is the King's most sweet pleasure and affection to congratulate the Princess at her pavilion in the posteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call the afternoon. HOLOFERNES "The posterior of the day," most generous sir, is liable, congruent, and measurable for "the afternoon"; the word is well culled, chose, sweet, and apt, I do assure you, sir, I do assure. ARMADO Sir, the King is a noble gentleman, and my familiar, I do assure you, very good friend. For what is inward between us, let it pass. I do beseech thee, remember thy courtesy; I beseech thee apparel thy head. And among other important and most serious designs, and of great import indeed, too-- but let that pass; for I must tell thee, it will please his Grace, by the world, sometimes to lean upon my poor shoulder and with his royal finger thus dally with my excrement, with my mustachio--but, sweetheart, let that pass. By the world, I recount no fable! Some certain special honors it pleaseth his Greatness to impart to Armado, a soldier, a man of travel, that hath seen the world--but let that pass. The very all of all is--but sweetheart, I do implore secrecy--that the King would have me present the Princess, sweet chuck, with some delightful ostentation, or show, or pageant, or antic, or firework. Now, understanding that the curate and your sweet self are good at such eruptions and sudden breaking out of mirth, as it were, I have acquainted you withal to the end to crave your assistance. HOLOFERNES Sir, you shall present before her the Nine Worthies.--Sir Nathaniel, as concerning some entertainment of time, some show in the posterior of this day, to be rendered by our assistance, the King's command, and this most gallant, illustrate, and learned gentleman, before the Princess--I say, none so fit as to present the Nine Worthies. NATHANIEL Where will you find men worthy enough to present them? HOLOFERNES Joshua, yourself; myself; and this gallant gentleman, Judas Maccabaeus. This swain, because of his great limb or joint, shall pass Pompey the Great; the page, Hercules-- ARMADO Pardon, sir--error. He is not quantity enough for that Worthy's thumb; he is not so big as the end of his club! HOLOFERNES Shall I have audience? He shall present Hercules in minority. His enter and exit shall be strangling a snake; and I will have an apology for that purpose. BOY An excellent device. So, if any of the audience hiss, you may cry "Well done, Hercules, now thou crushest the snake." That is the way to make an offense gracious, though few have the grace to do it. ARMADO For the rest of the Worthies? HOLOFERNES I will play three myself. BOY Thrice-worthy gentleman! ARMADO, [to Holofernes] Shall I tell you a thing? HOLOFERNES We attend. ARMADO We will have, if this fadge not, an antic. I beseech you, follow. HOLOFERNES Via, goodman Dull. Thou hast spoken no word all this while. DULL Nor understood none neither, sir. HOLOFERNES Allons! We will employ thee. DULL I'll make one in a dance, or so; or I will play on the tabor to the Worthies and let them dance the hay. HOLOFERNES Most dull, honest Dull. To our sport! Away. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter the Ladies (the Princess, Rosaline, Katherine, and Maria.)] PRINCESS Sweethearts, we shall be rich ere we depart, If fairings come thus plentifully in. A lady walled about with diamonds! Look you what I have from the loving king. [She shows a jewel.] ROSALINE Madam, came nothing else along with that? PRINCESS Nothing but this? Yes, as much love in rhyme As would be crammed up in a sheet of paper Writ o' both sides the leaf, margent and all, That he was fain to seal on Cupid's name. ROSALINE That was the way to make his godhead wax, For he hath been five thousand year a boy. KATHERINE Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows, too. ROSALINE You'll ne'er be friends with him. He killed your sister. KATHERINE He made her melancholy, sad, and heavy, And so she died. Had she been light like you, Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit, She might ha' been a grandam ere she died. And so may you, for a light heart lives long. ROSALINE What's your dark meaning, mouse, of this light word? KATHERINE A light condition in a beauty dark. ROSALINE We need more light to find your meaning out. KATHERINE You'll mar the light by taking it in snuff; Therefore I'll darkly end the argument. ROSALINE Look what you do, you do it still i' th' dark. KATHERINE So do not you, for you are a light wench. ROSALINE Indeed, I weigh not you, and therefore light. KATHERINE You weigh me not? O, that's you care not for me. ROSALINE Great reason: for past care is still past cure. PRINCESS Well bandied both; a set of wit well played. But, Rosaline, you have a favor too. Who sent it? And what is it? ROSALINE I would you knew. An if my face were but as fair as yours, My favor were as great. Be witness this. [She shows a gift.] Nay, I have verses too, I thank Berowne; The numbers true; and were the numb'ring too, I were the fairest goddess on the ground. I am compared to twenty thousand fairs. O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter. PRINCESS Anything like? ROSALINE Much in the letters, nothing in the praise. PRINCESS Beauteous as ink: a good conclusion. KATHERINE Fair as a text B in a copybook. ROSALINE Ware pencils, ho! Let me not die your debtor, My red dominical, my golden letter. O, that your face were not so full of O's! PRINCESS A pox of that jest! And I beshrew all shrows. But, Katherine, what was sent to you From fair Dumaine? KATHERINE Madam, this glove. [She shows the glove.] PRINCESS Did he not send you twain? KATHERINE Yes, madam, and moreover, Some thousand verses of a faithful lover, A huge translation of hypocrisy, Vilely compiled, profound simplicity. MARIA This, and these pearls, to me sent Longaville. [She shows a paper and pearls.] The letter is too long by half a mile. PRINCESS I think no less. Dost thou not wish in heart The chain were longer and the letter short? MARIA Ay, or I would these hands might never part. PRINCESS We are wise girls to mock our lovers so. ROSALINE They are worse fools to purchase mocking so. That same Berowne I'll torture ere I go. O, that I knew he were but in by th' week, How I would make him fawn, and beg, and seek, And wait the season, and observe the times, And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes, And shape his service wholly to my hests, And make him proud to make me proud that jests! So pair-taunt-like would I o'ersway his state, That he should be my fool, and I his fate. PRINCESS None are so surely caught, when they are catched, As wit turned fool. Folly in wisdom hatched Hath wisdom's warrant and the help of school, And wit's own grace to grace a learned fool. ROSALINE The blood of youth burns not with such excess As gravity's revolt to wantonness. MARIA Folly in fools bears not so strong a note As fool'ry in the wise, when wit doth dote, Since all the power thereof it doth apply To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity. [Enter Boyet.] PRINCESS Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face. BOYET O, I am stabbed with laughter. Where's her Grace? PRINCESS Thy news, Boyet? BOYET Prepare, madam, prepare. Arm, wenches, arm. Encounters mounted are Against your peace. Love doth approach, disguised, Armed in arguments. You'll be surprised. Muster your wits, stand in your own defense, Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence. PRINCESS Saint Denis to Saint Cupid! What are they That charge their breath against us? Say, scout, say. BOYET Under the cool shade of a sycamore, I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour. When, lo, to interrupt my purposed rest, Toward that shade I might behold addressed The King and his companions. Warily I stole into a neighbor thicket by, And overheard what you shall overhear: That, by and by, disguised, they will be here. Their herald is a pretty knavish page That well by heart hath conned his embassage. Action and accent did they teach him there: "Thus must thou speak," and "thus thy body bear." And ever and anon they made a doubt Presence majestical would put him out; "For," quoth the King, "an angel shalt thou see; Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously." The boy replied "An angel is not evil. I should have feared her had she been a devil." With that, all laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, Making the bold wag by their praises bolder. One rubbed his elbow thus, and fleered, and swore A better speech was never spoke before. Another with his finger and his thumb, Cried "Via! We will do 't, come what will come." The third he capered and cried "All goes well!" The fourth turned on the toe, and down he fell. With that, they all did tumble on the ground With such a zealous laughter so profound That in this spleen ridiculous appears, To check their folly, passion's solemn tears. PRINCESS But what, but what? Come they to visit us? BOYET They do, they do; and are appareled thus, Like Muscovites, or Russians, as I guess. Their purpose is to parley, to court, and dance, And every one his love-feat will advance Unto his several mistress--which they'll know By favors several which they did bestow. PRINCESS And will they so? The gallants shall be tasked, For, ladies, we will every one be masked, And not a man of them shall have the grace, Despite of suit, to see a lady's face. Hold, Rosaline, this favor thou shalt wear, And then the King will court thee for his dear. Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me thine. So shall Berowne take me for Rosaline. [Princess and Rosaline exchange favors.] And change you favors too. So shall your loves Woo contrary, deceived by these removes. [Katherine and Maria exchange favors.] ROSALINE Come on, then, wear the favors most in sight. KATHERINE, [to Princess] But in this changing, what is your intent? PRINCESS The effect of my intent is to cross theirs. They do it but in mockery merriment, And mock for mock is only my intent. Their several counsels they unbosom shall To loves mistook, and so be mocked withal Upon the next occasion that we meet, With visages displayed, to talk and greet. ROSALINE But shall we dance, if they desire us to 't? PRINCESS No, to the death we will not move a foot, Nor to their penned speech render we no grace, But while 'tis spoke each turn away her face. BOYET Why, that contempt will kill the speaker's heart, And quite divorce his memory from his part. PRINCESS Therefore I do it, and I make no doubt The rest will ne'er come in if he be out. There's no such sport as sport by sport o'erthrown, To make theirs ours and ours none but our own. So shall we stay, mocking intended game, And they, well mocked, depart away with shame. [Sound trumpet, within.] BOYET The trumpet sounds. Be masked; the maskers come. [The Ladies mask.] [Enter Blackamoors with music, the Boy with a speech, the King, Berowne, and the rest of the Lords disguised.] BOY All hail, the richest beauties on the Earth! BOYET Beauties no richer than rich taffeta. BOY A holy parcel of the fairest dames [The Ladies turn their backs to him.] That ever turned their--backs--to mortal views. BEROWNE Their eyes, villain, their eyes! BOY That ever turned their eyes to mortal views. Out-- BOYET True; out indeed. BOY Out of your favors, heavenly spirits, vouchsafe Not to behold-- BEROWNE Once to behold, rogue! BOY Once to behold with your sun-beamed eyes-- With your sun-beamed eyes-- BOYET They will not answer to that epithet. You were best call it "daughter-beamed eyes." BOY They do not mark me, and that brings me out. BEROWNE Is this your perfectness? Begone, you rogue! [Boy exits.] ROSALINE, [speaking as the Princess] What would these strangers? Know their minds, Boyet. If they do speak our language, 'tis our will That some plain man recount their purposes. Know what they would. BOYET What would you with the Princess? BEROWNE Nothing but peace and gentle visitation. ROSALINE What would they, say they? BOYET Nothing but peace and gentle visitation. ROSALINE Why, that they have, and bid them so be gone. BOYET She says you have it, and you may be gone. KING Say to her we have measured many miles To tread a measure with her on this grass. BOYET They say that they have measured many a mile To tread a measure with you on this grass. ROSALINE It is not so. Ask them how many inches Is in one mile. If they have measured many, The measure then of one is eas'ly told. BOYET If to come hither you have measured miles, And many miles, the Princess bids you tell How many inches doth fill up one mile. BEROWNE Tell her we measure them by weary steps. BOYET She hears herself. ROSALINE How many weary steps Of many weary miles you have o'ergone Are numbered in the travel of one mile? BEROWNE We number nothing that we spend for you. Our duty is so rich, so infinite, That we may do it still without account. Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face That we, like savages, may worship it. ROSALINE My face is but a moon, and clouded too. KING Blessed are clouds, to do as such clouds do! Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, to shine, Those clouds removed, upon our watery eyne. ROSALINE O vain petitioner, beg a greater matter! Thou now requests but moonshine in the water. KING Then in our measure do but vouchsafe one change. Thou bidd'st me beg; this begging is not strange. ROSALINE Play music, then. Nay, you must do it soon. [Music begins.] Not yet? No dance! Thus change I like the moon. KING Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged? ROSALINE You took the moon at full, but now she's changed. KING Yet still she is the moon, and I the man. The music plays. Vouchsafe some motion to it. ROSALINE Our ears vouchsafe it. KING But your legs should do it. ROSALINE Since you are strangers and come here by chance, We'll not be nice. Take hands. We will not dance. [She offers her hand.] KING Why take we hands then? ROSALINE Only to part friends.-- Curtsy, sweethearts--and so the measure ends. KING More measure of this measure! Be not nice. ROSALINE We can afford no more at such a price. KING Prize you yourselves. What buys your company? ROSALINE Your absence only. KING That can never be. ROSALINE Then cannot we be bought. And so adieu-- Twice to your visor, and half once to you. KING If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat. ROSALINE In private, then. KING I am best pleased with that. [They move aside.] BEROWNE, [to the Princess] White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee. PRINCESS, [speaking as Rosaline] Honey, and milk, and sugar--there is three. BEROWNE Nay then, two treys, an if you grow so nice, Metheglin, wort, and malmsey. Well run, dice! There's half a dozen sweets. PRINCESS Seventh sweet, adieu. Since you can cog, I'll play no more with you. BEROWNE One word in secret. PRINCESS Let it not be sweet. BEROWNE Thou grievest my gall. PRINCESS Gall! Bitter. BEROWNE Therefore meet. [They move aside.] DUMAINE, [to Maria] Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word? MARIA, [speaking as Katherine] Name it. DUMAINE Fair lady-- MARIA Say you so? Fair lord! Take that for your "fair lady." DUMAINE Please it you As much in private, and I'll bid adieu. [They move aside.] KATHERINE, [speaking as Maria] What, was your vizard made without a tongue? LONGAVILLE I know the reason, lady, why you ask. KATHERINE O, for your reason! Quickly, sir, I long. LONGAVILLE You have a double tongue within your mask, And would afford my speechless vizard half. KATHERINE Veal, quoth the Dutchman. Is not veal a calf? LONGAVILLE A calf, fair lady? KATHERINE No, a fair Lord Calf. LONGAVILLE Let's part the word. KATHERINE No, I'll not be your half. Take all and wean it. It may prove an ox. LONGAVILLE Look how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks. Will you give horns, chaste lady? Do not so. KATHERINE Then die a calf before your horns do grow. LONGAVILLE One word in private with you ere I die. KATHERINE Bleat softly, then. The butcher hears you cry. [They move aside.] BOYET The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen As is the razor's edge invisible, Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen; Above the sense of sense, so sensible Seemeth their conference. Their conceits have wings Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things. ROSALINE Not one word more, my maids. Break off, break off! [The Ladies move away from the Lords.] BEROWNE By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff! KING Farewell, mad wenches. You have simple wits. [King, Lords, and Blackamoors exit.] [The Ladies unmask.] PRINCESS Twenty adieus, my frozen Muskovits.-- Are these the breed of wits so wondered at? BOYET Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puffed out. ROSALINE Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat. PRINCESS O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout! Will they not, think you, hang themselves tonight? Or ever but in vizards show their faces? This pert Berowne was out of count'nance quite. ROSALINE They were all in lamentable cases. The King was weeping ripe for a good word. PRINCESS Berowne did swear himself out of all suit. MARIA Dumaine was at my service, and his sword. "No point," quoth I. My servant straight was mute. KATHERINE Lord Longaville said I came o'er his heart. And trow you what he called me? PRINCESS Qualm, perhaps. KATHERINE Yes, in good faith. PRINCESS Go, sickness as thou art! ROSALINE Well, better wits have worn plain statute-caps. But will you hear? The King is my love sworn. PRINCESS And quick Berowne hath plighted faith to me. KATHERINE And Longaville was for my service born. MARIA Dumaine is mine as sure as bark on tree. BOYET Madam, and pretty mistresses, give ear. Immediately they will again be here In their own shapes, for it can never be They will digest this harsh indignity. PRINCESS Will they return? BOYET They will, they will, God knows, And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows. Therefore change favors, and when they repair, Blow like sweet roses in this summer air. PRINCESS How "blow"? How "blow"? Speak to be understood. BOYET Fair ladies masked are roses in their bud. Dismasked, their damask sweet commixture shown, Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown. PRINCESS Avaunt, perplexity!--What shall we do If they return in their own shapes to woo? ROSALINE Good madam, if by me you'll be advised, Let's mock them still, as well known as disguised. Let us complain to them what fools were here, Disguised like Muscovites in shapeless gear, And wonder what they were, and to what end Their shallow shows and prologue vilely penned, And their rough carriage so ridiculous, Should be presented at our tent to us. BOYET Ladies, withdraw. The gallants are at hand. PRINCESS Whip to our tents, as roes runs o'er land. [The Princess and the Ladies exit.] [Enter the King and the rest, as themselves.] KING, [to Boyet] Fair sir, God save you. Where's the Princess? BOYET Gone to her tent. Please it your Majesty Command me any service to her thither? KING That she vouchsafe me audience for one word. BOYET I will, and so will she, I know, my lord. [He exits.] BEROWNE This fellow pecks up wit as pigeons peas, And utters it again when God doth please. He is wit's peddler, and retails his wares At wakes and wassails, meetings, markets, fairs. And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know, Have not the grace to grace it with such show. This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve. Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve. He can carve too, and lisp. Why, this is he That kissed his hand away in courtesy. This is the ape of form, Monsieur the Nice, That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice In honorable terms. Nay, he can sing A mean most meanly; and in ushering Mend him who can. The ladies call him sweet. The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet. This is the flower that smiles on everyone To show his teeth as white as whale's bone; And consciences that will not die in debt Pay him the due of "honey-tongued Boyet." KING A blister on his sweet tongue, with my heart, That put Armado's page out of his part! [Enter the Ladies, with Boyet.] BEROWNE See where it comes! Behavior, what wert thou Till this madman showed thee? And what art thou now? KING, [to Princess] All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day. PRINCESS "Fair" in "all hail" is foul, as I conceive. KING Construe my speeches better, if you may. PRINCESS Then wish me better. I will give you leave. KING We came to visit you, and purpose now To lead you to our court. Vouchsafe it, then. PRINCESS This field shall hold me, and so hold your vow. Nor God nor I delights in perjured men. KING Rebuke me not for that which you provoke. The virtue of your eye must break my oath. PRINCESS You nickname virtue; "vice" you should have spoke, For virtue's office never breaks men's troth. Now by my maiden honor, yet as pure As the unsullied lily, I protest, A world of torments though I should endure, I would not yield to be your house's guest, So much I hate a breaking cause to be Of heavenly oaths vowed with integrity. KING O, you have lived in desolation here, Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame. PRINCESS Not so, my lord. It is not so, I swear. We have had pastimes here and pleasant game. A mess of Russians left us but of late. KING How, madam? Russians? PRINCESS Ay, in truth, my lord. Trim gallants, full of courtship and of state. ROSALINE Madam, speak true.--It is not so, my lord. My lady, to the manner of the days, In courtesy gives undeserving praise. We four indeed confronted were with four In Russian habit. Here they stayed an hour And talked apace; and in that hour, my lord, They did not bless us with one happy word. I dare not call them fools; but this I think: When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink. BEROWNE This jest is dry to me. Gentle sweet, Your wits makes wise things foolish. When we greet, With eyes' best seeing, heaven's fiery eye, By light we lose light. Your capacity Is of that nature that to your huge store Wise things seem foolish and rich things but poor. ROSALINE This proves you wise and rich, for in my eye-- BEROWNE I am a fool, and full of poverty. ROSALINE But that you take what doth to you belong, It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue. BEROWNE O, I am yours, and all that I possess! ROSALINE All the fool mine? BEROWNE I cannot give you less. ROSALINE Which of the vizards was it that you wore? BEROWNE Where? When? What vizard? Why demand you this? ROSALINE There; then; that vizard; that superfluous case That hid the worse and showed the better face. KING, [aside to Dumaine] We were descried. They'll mock us now downright. DUMAINE, [aside to King] Let us confess and turn it to a jest. PRINCESS, [to King] Amazed, my lord? Why looks your Highness sad? ROSALINE Help, hold his brows! He'll swoon!--Why look you pale? Seasick, I think, coming from Muscovy. BEROWNE Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury. Can any face of brass hold longer out? Here stand I, lady. Dart thy skill at me. Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout. Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance. Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit, And I will wish thee nevermore to dance, Nor nevermore in Russian habit wait. O, never will I trust to speeches penned, Nor to the motion of a schoolboy's tongue, Nor never come in vizard to my friend, Nor woo in rhyme like a blind harper's song. Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise, Three-piled hyperboles, spruce affectation, Figures pedantical--these summer flies Have blown me full of maggot ostentation. I do forswear them, and I here protest By this white glove--how white the hand, God knows!-- Henceforth my wooing mind shall be expressed In russet yeas and honest kersey noes. And to begin: Wench, so God help me, law, My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw. ROSALINE Sans "sans," I pray you. BEROWNE Yet I have a trick Of the old rage. Bear with me, I am sick; I'll leave it by degrees. Soft, let us see: Write "Lord have mercy on us" on those three. They are infected; in their hearts it lies. They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes. These lords are visited. You are not free, For the Lord's tokens on you do I see. PRINCESS No, they are free that gave these tokens to us. BEROWNE Our states are forfeit. Seek not to undo us. ROSALINE It is not so, for how can this be true, That you stand forfeit, being those that sue? BEROWNE Peace, for I will not have to do with you. ROSALINE Nor shall not, if I do as I intend. BEROWNE, [to King, Longaville, and Dumaine] Speak for yourselves. My wit is at an end. KING, [to Princess] Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude transgression Some fair excuse. PRINCESS The fairest is confession. Were not you here but even now, disguised? KING Madam, I was. PRINCESS And were you well advised? KING I was, fair madam. PRINCESS When you then were here, What did you whisper in your lady's ear? KING That more than all the world I did respect her. PRINCESS When she shall challenge this, you will reject her. KING Upon mine honor, no. PRINCESS Peace, peace, forbear! Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear. KING Despise me when I break this oath of mine. PRINCESS I will, and therefore keep it.--Rosaline, What did the Russian whisper in your ear? ROSALINE Madam, he swore that he did hold me dear As precious eyesight, and did value me Above this world, adding thereto moreover That he would wed me or else die my lover. PRINCESS God give thee joy of him! The noble lord Most honorably doth uphold his word. KING What mean you, madam? By my life, my troth, I never swore this lady such an oath. ROSALINE By heaven, you did! And to confirm it plain, You gave me this. [She shows a token.] But take it, sir, again. KING My faith and this the Princess I did give. I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve. PRINCESS Pardon me, sir. This jewel did she wear. [She points to Rosaline.] And Lord Berowne, I thank him, is my dear. [To Berowne.] What, will you have me, or your pearl again? [She shows the token.] BEROWNE Neither of either. I remit both twain. I see the trick on 't. Here was a consent, Knowing aforehand of our merriment, To dash it like a Christmas comedy. Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany, Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick, That smiles his cheek in years and knows the trick To make my lady laugh when she's disposed, Told our intents before; which once disclosed, The ladies did change favors; and then we, Following the signs, wooed but the sign of she. Now, to our perjury to add more terror, We are again forsworn in will and error. Much upon this 'tis. [To Boyet.] And might not you Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue? Do not you know my lady's foot by th' squier? And laugh upon the apple of her eye? And stand between her back, sir, and the fire, Holding a trencher, jesting merrily? You put our page out. Go, you are allowed. Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud. You leer upon me, do you? There's an eye Wounds like a leaden sword. BOYET Full merrily Hath this brave manage, this career been run. BEROWNE Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace, I have done. [Enter Clown Costard.] Welcome, pure wit. Thou part'st a fair fray. COSTARD O Lord, sir, they would know Whether the three Worthies shall come in or no. BEROWNE What, are there but three? COSTARD No, sir; but it is vara fine, For every one pursents three. BEROWNE And three times thrice is nine. COSTARD Not so, sir, under correction, sir, I hope it is not so. You cannot beg us, sir, I can assure you, sir; we know what we know. I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir-- BEROWNE Is not nine? COSTARD Under correction, sir, we know whereuntil it doth amount. BEROWNE By Jove, I always took three threes for nine. COSTARD O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, sir. BEROWNE How much is it? COSTARD O Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the actors, sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount. For mine own part, I am, as they say, but to parfect one man in one poor man--Pompion the Great, sir. BEROWNE Art thou one of the Worthies? COSTARD It pleased them to think me worthy of Pompey the Great. For mine own part, I know not the degree of the Worthy, but I am to stand for him. BEROWNE Go bid them prepare. COSTARD We will turn it finely off, sir. We will take some care. [He exits.] KING Berowne, they will shame us. Let them not approach. BEROWNE We are shame-proof, my lord; and 'tis some policy To have one show worse than the King's and his company. KING I say they shall not come. PRINCESS Nay, my good lord, let me o'errule you now. That sport best pleases that doth least know how, Where zeal strives to content, and the contents Dies in the zeal of that which it presents. Their form confounded makes most form in mirth, When great things laboring perish in their birth. BEROWNE A right description of our sport, my lord. [Enter Braggart Armado.] ARMADO, [to King] Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet breath as will utter a brace of words. [Armado and King step aside, and Armado gives King a paper.] PRINCESS Doth this man serve God? BEROWNE Why ask you? PRINCESS He speaks not like a man of God his making. ARMADO, [to King] That is all one, my fair sweet honey monarch, for, I protest, the schoolmaster is exceeding fantastical, too, too vain, too, too vain. But we will put it, as they say, to fortuna de la guerra.--I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement! [He exits.] KING, [reading the paper] Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies. He presents Hector of Troy, the swain Pompey the Great, the parish curate Alexander, Armado's page Hercules, the pedant Judas Maccabaeus. And if these four Worthies in their first show thrive, These four will change habits and present the other five. BEROWNE There is five in the first show. KING You are deceived. 'Tis not so. BEROWNE The pedant, the braggart, the hedge priest, the fool, and the boy. Abate throw at novum, and the whole world again Cannot pick out five such, take each one in his vein. KING The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain. [Enter Costard as Pompey.] COSTARD I Pompey am-- BEROWNE You lie; you are not he. COSTARD I Pompey am-- BOYET With leopard's head on knee. BEROWNE Well said, old mocker. I must needs be friends with thee. COSTARD I Pompey am, Pompey, surnamed the Big-- DUMAINE "The Great." COSTARD It is "Great," sir.--Pompey, surnamed the Great, That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make my foe to sweat. And traveling along this coast, I here am come by chance, And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of France. [He places his weapons at the feet of the Princess.] If your Ladyship would say "Thanks, Pompey," I had done. PRINCESS Great thanks, great Pompey. COSTARD 'Tis not so much worth, but I hope I was perfect. I made a little fault in "Great." BEROWNE My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best Worthy. [Costard stands aside.] [Enter Curate Nathaniel for Alexander.] NATHANIEL When in the world I lived, I was the world's commander. By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering might. My scutcheon plain declares that I am Alisander-- BOYET Your nose says no, you are not, for it stands too right. BEROWNE, [to Boyet] Your nose smells "no" in this, most tender-smelling knight. PRINCESS The conqueror is dismayed.--Proceed, good Alexander. NATHANIEL When in the world I lived, I was the world's commander-- BOYET Most true; 'tis right. You were so, Alisander. BEROWNE, [to Costard] Pompey the Great-- COSTARD Your servant, and Costard. BEROWNE Take away the conqueror. Take away Alisander. COSTARD, [to Nathaniel] O sir, you have overthrown Alisander the Conqueror. You will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this. Your lion, that holds his polax sitting on a close-stool, will be given to Ajax. He will be the ninth Worthy. A conqueror, and afeard to speak? Run away for shame, Alisander. [Nathaniel exits.] There, an 't shall please you, a foolish mild man, an honest man, look you, and soon dashed. He is a marvelous good neighbor, faith, and a very good bowler. But, for Alisander--alas, you see how 'tis-- a little o'erparted. But there are Worthies a-coming will speak their mind in some other sort. [Enter Pedant Holofernes for Judas, and the Boy for Hercules.] PRINCESS, [to Costard] Stand aside, good Pompey. HOLOFERNES Great Hercules is presented by this imp, Whose club killed Cerberus, that three-headed canus, And when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp, Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus. Quoniam he seemeth in minority, Ergo I come with this apology. [To Boy.] Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish. [Boy steps aside.] HOLOFERNES Judas I am-- DUMAINE A Judas! HOLOFERNES Not Iscariot, sir. Judas I am, yclept Maccabaeus. DUMAINE Judas Maccabaeus clipped is plain Judas. BEROWNE A kissing traitor.--How art thou proved Judas? HOLOFERNES Judas I am-- DUMAINE The more shame for you, Judas. HOLOFERNES What mean you, sir? BOYET To make Judas hang himself. HOLOFERNES Begin, sir, you are my elder. BEROWNE Well followed. Judas was hanged on an elder. HOLOFERNES I will not be put out of countenance. BEROWNE Because thou hast no face. HOLOFERNES What is this? [He points to his own face.] BOYET A cittern-head. DUMAINE The head of a bodkin. BEROWNE A death's face in a ring. LONGAVILLE The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen. BOYET The pommel of Caesar's falchion. DUMAINE The carved-bone face on a flask. BEROWNE Saint George's half-cheek in a brooch. DUMAINE Ay, and in a brooch of lead. BEROWNE Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer. And now forward, for we have put thee in countenance. HOLOFERNES You have put me out of countenance. BEROWNE False. We have given thee faces. HOLOFERNES But you have outfaced them all. BEROWNE An thou wert a lion, we would do so. BOYET Therefore, as he is an ass, let him go.-- And so adieu, sweet Jude. Nay, why dost thou stay? DUMAINE For the latter end of his name. BEROWNE For the "ass" to the "Jude"? Give it him.--Jud-as, away! HOLOFERNES This is not generous, not gentle, not humble. BOYET A light for Monsieur Judas! It grows dark; he may stumble. [Holofernes exits.] PRINCESS Alas, poor Maccabaeus, how hath he been baited! [Enter Braggart Armado as Hector.] BEROWNE Hide thy head, Achilles. Here comes Hector in arms. DUMAINE Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry. KING Hector was but a Troyan in respect of this. BOYET But is this Hector? KING I think Hector was not so clean-timbered. LONGAVILLE His leg is too big for Hector's. DUMAINE More calf, certain. BOYET No, he is best endued in the small. BEROWNE This cannot be Hector. DUMAINE He's a god or a painter, for he makes faces. ARMADO The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, Gave Hector a gift-- DUMAINE A gilt nutmeg. BEROWNE A lemon. LONGAVILLE Stuck with cloves. DUMAINE No, cloven. ARMADO Peace! The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion, A man so breathed, that certain he would fight, yea, From morn till night, out of his pavilion. I am that flower-- DUMAINE That mint. LONGAVILLE That columbine. ARMADO Sweet Lord Longaville, rein thy tongue. LONGAVILLE I must rather give it the rein, for it runs against Hector. DUMAINE Ay, and Hector's a greyhound. ARMADO The sweet warman is dead and rotten. Sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried. When he breathed, he was a man. But I will forward with my device. [To Princess.] Sweet royalty, bestow on me the sense of hearing. [Berowne steps forth.] PRINCESS Speak, brave Hector. We are much delighted. ARMADO I do adore thy sweet Grace's slipper. BOYET Loves her by the foot. DUMAINE He may not by the yard. ARMADO This Hector far surmounted Hannibal. The party is gone-- COSTARD Fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months on her way. ARMADO What meanest thou? COSTARD Faith, unless you play the honest Troyan, the poor wench is cast away. She's quick; the child brags in her belly already. 'Tis yours. ARMADO Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? Thou shalt die! COSTARD Then shall Hector be whipped for Jaquenetta, that is quick by him, and hanged for Pompey, that is dead by him. DUMAINE Most rare Pompey! BOYET Renowned Pompey! BEROWNE Greater than "Great"! Great, great, great Pompey. Pompey the Huge! DUMAINE Hector trembles. BEROWNE Pompey is moved. More Ates, more Ates! Stir them on, stir them on. DUMAINE Hector will challenge him. BEROWNE Ay, if he have no more man's blood in his belly than will sup a flea. ARMADO, [to Costard] By the North Pole, I do challenge thee! COSTARD I will not fight with a pole like a northern man! I'll slash. I'll do it by the sword.--I bepray you, let me borrow my arms again. DUMAINE Room for the incensed Worthies! COSTARD I'll do it in my shirt. [He removes his doublet.] DUMAINE Most resolute Pompey! BOY, [to Armado] Master, let me take you a buttonhole lower. Do you not see Pompey is uncasing for the combat? What mean you? You will lose your reputation. ARMADO Gentlemen and soldiers, pardon me. I will not combat in my shirt. DUMAINE You may not deny it. Pompey hath made the challenge. ARMADO Sweet bloods, I both may and will. BEROWNE What reason have you for 't? ARMADO The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt. I go woolward for penance. BOYET True, and it was enjoined him in Rome for want of linen; since when, I'll be sworn, he wore none but a dishclout of Jaquenetta's, and that he wears next his heart for a favor. [Enter a Messenger, Monsieur Marcade.] MARCADE, [to Princess] God save you, madam. PRINCESS Welcome, Marcade, But that thou interruptest our merriment. MARCADE I am sorry, madam, for the news I bring Is heavy in my tongue. The King your father-- PRINCESS Dead, for my life. MARCADE Even so. My tale is told. BEROWNE Worthies, away! The scene begins to cloud. ARMADO For mine own part, I breathe free breath. I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a soldier. [Worthies exit.] KING, [to Princess] How fares your Majesty? PRINCESS Boyet, prepare. I will away tonight. KING Madam, not so. I do beseech you stay. PRINCESS, [to Boyet] Prepare, I say.--I thank you, gracious lords, For all your fair endeavors, and entreat, Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe In your rich wisdom to excuse or hide The liberal opposition of our spirits, If overboldly we have borne ourselves In the converse of breath; your gentleness Was guilty of it. Farewell, worthy lord. A heavy heart bears not a humble tongue. Excuse me so, coming too short of thanks For my great suit so easily obtained. KING The extreme parts of time extremely forms All causes to the purpose of his speed, And often at his very loose decides That which long process could not arbitrate. And though the mourning brow of progeny Forbid the smiling courtesy of love The holy suit which fain it would convince, Yet since love's argument was first on foot, Let not the cloud of sorrow jostle it From what it purposed, since to wail friends lost Is not by much so wholesome-profitable As to rejoice at friends but newly found. PRINCESS I understand you not. My griefs are double. BEROWNE Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief, And by these badges understand the King: For your fair sakes have we neglected time, Played foul play with our oaths. Your beauty, ladies, Hath much deformed us, fashioning our humors Even to the opposed end of our intents. And what in us hath seemed ridiculous-- As love is full of unbefitting strains, All wanton as a child, skipping and vain, Formed by the eye and therefore, like the eye, Full of strange shapes, of habits, and of forms, Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll To every varied object in his glance; Which parti-coated presence of loose love Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes, Have misbecomed our oaths and gravities, Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults, Suggested us to make. Therefore, ladies, Our love being yours, the error that love makes Is likewise yours. We to ourselves prove false By being once false forever to be true To those that make us both--fair ladies, you. And even that falsehood, in itself a sin, Thus purifies itself and turns to grace. PRINCESS We have received your letters full of love; Your favors, the ambassadors of love; And in our maiden council rated them At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy, As bombast and as lining to the time. But more devout than this in our respects Have we not been, and therefore met your loves In their own fashion, like a merriment. DUMAINE Our letters, madam, showed much more than jest. LONGAVILLE So did our looks. ROSALINE We did not quote them so. KING Now, at the latest minute of the hour, Grant us your loves. PRINCESS A time, methinks, too short To make a world-without-end bargain in. No, no, my lord, your Grace is perjured much, Full of dear guiltiness, and therefore this: If for my love--as there is no such cause-- You will do aught, this shall you do for me: Your oath I will not trust, but go with speed To some forlorn and naked hermitage, Remote from all the pleasures of the world. There stay until the twelve celestial signs Have brought about the annual reckoning. If this austere insociable life Change not your offer made in heat of blood; If frosts and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love, But that it bear this trial, and last love; Then, at the expiration of the year, Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts, [She takes his hand.] And by this virgin palm now kissing thine, I will be thine. And till that instant shut My woeful self up in a mourning house, Raining the tears of lamentation For the remembrance of my father's death. If this thou do deny, let our hands part, Neither entitled in the other's heart. KING If this, or more than this, I would deny, To flatter up these powers of mine with rest, The sudden hand of death close up mine eye! Hence hermit, then. My heart is in thy breast. [They step aside.] DUMAINE, [to Katherine] But what to me, my love? But what to me? A wife? KATHERINE A beard, fair health, and honesty. With threefold love I wish you all these three. DUMAINE O, shall I say "I thank you, gentle wife"? KATHERINE Not so, my lord. A twelvemonth and a day I'll mark no words that smooth-faced wooers say. Come when the King doth to my lady come; Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some. DUMAINE I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then. KATHERINE Yet swear not, lest you be forsworn again. [They step aside.] LONGAVILLE What says Maria? MARIA At the twelvemonth's end I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend. LONGAVILLE I'll stay with patience, but the time is long. MARIA The liker you; few taller are so young. [They step aside.] BEROWNE, [to Rosaline] Studies my lady? Mistress, look on me. Behold the window of my heart, mine eye, What humble suit attends thy answer there. Impose some service on me for thy love. ROSALINE Oft have I heard of you, my Lord Berowne, Before I saw you; and the world's large tongue Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks, Full of comparisons and wounding flouts, Which you on all estates will execute That lie within the mercy of your wit. To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain, And therewithal to win me, if you please, Without the which I am not to be won, You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day Visit the speechless sick, and still converse With groaning wretches; and your task shall be, With all the fierce endeavor of your wit, To enforce the pained impotent to smile. BEROWNE To move wild laughter in the throat of death? It cannot be, it is impossible. Mirth cannot move a soul in agony. ROSALINE Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, Whose influence is begot of that loose grace Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools. A jest's prosperity lies in the ear Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it. Then if sickly ears, Deafed with the clamors of their own dear groans Will hear your idle scorns, continue then, And I will have you and that fault withal. But if they will not, throw away that spirit, And I shall find you empty of that fault, Right joyful of your reformation. BEROWNE A twelvemonth? Well, befall what will befall, I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital. PRINCESS, [to King] Ay, sweet my lord, and so I take my leave. KING No, madam, we will bring you on your way. BEROWNE Our wooing doth not end like an old play. Jack hath not Jill. These ladies' courtesy Might well have made our sport a comedy. KING Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a day, And then 'twill end. BEROWNE That's too long for a play. [Enter Braggart Armado.] ARMADO Sweet Majesty, vouchsafe me-- PRINCESS Was not that Hector? DUMAINE The worthy knight of Troy. ARMADO I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave. I am a votary; I have vowed to Jaquenetta to hold the plow for her sweet love three year. But, most esteemed Greatness, will you hear the dialogue that the two learned men have compiled in praise of the owl and the cuckoo? It should have followed in the end of our show. KING Call them forth quickly. We will do so. ARMADO Holla! Approach. [Enter all.] This side is Hiems, Winter; this Ver, the Spring; the one maintained by the owl, th' other by the cuckoo. Ver, begin. The Song. SPRING When daisies pied and violets blue, And lady-smocks all silver-white, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then on every tree Mocks married men; for thus sings he: "Cuckoo! Cuckoo, cuckoo!" O word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear. When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, And merry larks are plowmen's clocks; When turtles tread, and rooks and daws, And maidens bleach their summer smocks; The cuckoo then on every tree Mocks married men, for thus sings he: "Cuckoo! Cuckoo, cuckoo!" O word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear. WINTER When icicles hang by the wall, And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, And Tom bears logs into the hall, And milk comes frozen home in pail; When blood is nipped, and ways be foul, Then nightly sings the staring owl "Tu-whit to-who." A merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marian's nose looks red and raw; When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl "Tu-whit to-who." A merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. ARMADO The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo. You that way; we this way. [They all exit.]

Macbeth by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== Three Witches, the Weird Sisters DUNCAN, king of Scotland MALCOLM, his elder son DONALBAIN, Duncan's younger son MACBETH, thane of Glamis LADY MACBETH SEYTON, attendant to Macbeth Three Murderers in Macbeth's service Both attending upon Lady Macbeth: A Doctor A Gentlewoman A Porter BANQUO, commander, with Macbeth, of Duncan's army FLEANCE, his son MACDUFF, a Scottish noble LADY MACDUFF Their son Scottish Nobles: LENNOX ROSS ANGUS MENTEITH CAITHNESS SIWARD, commander of the English forces YOUNG SIWARD, Siward's son A Captain in Duncan's army An Old Man A Doctor at the English court HECATE Apparitions: an Armed Head, a Bloody Child, a Crowned Child, and eight nonspeaking kings Three Messengers, Three Servants, a Lord, a Soldier Attendants, a Sewer, Servants, Lords, Thanes, Soldiers (all nonspeaking) ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Thunder and Lightning. Enter three Witches.] FIRST WITCH When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain? SECOND WITCH When the hurly-burly's done, When the battle's lost and won. THIRD WITCH That will be ere the set of sun. FIRST WITCH Where the place? SECOND WITCH Upon the heath. THIRD WITCH There to meet with Macbeth. FIRST WITCH I come, Graymalkin. SECOND WITCH Paddock calls. THIRD WITCH Anon. ALL Fair is foul, and foul is fair; Hover through the fog and filthy air. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Alarum within. Enter King Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lennox, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Captain.] DUNCAN What bloody man is that? He can report, As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt The newest state. MALCOLM This is the sergeant Who, like a good and hardy soldier, fought 'Gainst my captivity.--Hail, brave friend! Say to the King the knowledge of the broil As thou didst leave it. CAPTAIN Doubtful it stood, As two spent swimmers that do cling together And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald (Worthy to be a rebel, for to that The multiplying villainies of nature Do swarm upon him) from the Western Isles Of kerns and gallowglasses is supplied; And Fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling, Showed like a rebel's whore. But all's too weak; For brave Macbeth (well he deserves that name), Disdaining Fortune, with his brandished steel, Which smoked with bloody execution, Like Valor's minion, carved out his passage Till he faced the slave; Which ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him, Till he unseamed him from the nave to th' chops, And fixed his head upon our battlements. DUNCAN O valiant cousin, worthy gentleman! CAPTAIN As whence the sun 'gins his reflection Shipwracking storms and direful thunders break, So from that spring whence comfort seemed to come Discomfort swells. Mark, King of Scotland, mark: No sooner justice had, with valor armed, Compelled these skipping kerns to trust their heels, But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage, With furbished arms and new supplies of men, Began a fresh assault. DUNCAN Dismayed not this our captains, Macbeth and Banquo? CAPTAIN Yes, as sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion. If I say sooth, I must report they were As cannons overcharged with double cracks, So they doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe. Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds Or memorize another Golgotha, I cannot tell-- But I am faint. My gashes cry for help. DUNCAN So well thy words become thee as thy wounds: They smack of honor both.--Go, get him surgeons. [The Captain is led off by Attendants.] [Enter Ross and Angus.] Who comes here? MALCOLM The worthy Thane of Ross. LENNOX What a haste looks through his eyes! So should he look that seems to speak things strange. ROSS God save the King. DUNCAN Whence cam'st thou, worthy thane? ROSS From Fife, great king, Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky And fan our people cold. Norway himself, with terrible numbers, Assisted by that most disloyal traitor, The Thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict, Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapped in proof, Confronted him with self-comparisons, Point against point, rebellious arm 'gainst arm, Curbing his lavish spirit. And to conclude, The victory fell on us. DUNCAN Great happiness! ROSS That now Sweno, The Norways' king, craves composition. Nor would we deign him burial of his men Till he disbursed at Saint Colme's Inch Ten thousand dollars to our general use. DUNCAN No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive Our bosom interest. Go, pronounce his present death, And with his former title greet Macbeth. ROSS I'll see it done. DUNCAN What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath won. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Thunder. Enter the three Witches.] FIRST WITCH Where hast thou been, sister? SECOND WITCH Killing swine. THIRD WITCH Sister, where thou? FIRST WITCH A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap And munched and munched and munched. "Give me," quoth I. "Aroint thee, witch," the rump-fed runnion cries. Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o' th' Tiger; But in a sieve I'll thither sail, And, like a rat without a tail, I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do. SECOND WITCH I'll give thee a wind. FIRST WITCH Th' art kind. THIRD WITCH And I another. FIRST WITCH I myself have all the other, And the very ports they blow; All the quarters that they know I' th' shipman's card. I'll drain him dry as hay. Sleep shall neither night nor day Hang upon his penthouse lid. He shall live a man forbid. Weary sev'nnights, nine times nine, Shall he dwindle, peak, and pine. Though his bark cannot be lost, Yet it shall be tempest-tossed. Look what I have. SECOND WITCH Show me, show me. FIRST WITCH Here I have a pilot's thumb, Wracked as homeward he did come. [Drum within.] THIRD WITCH A drum, a drum! Macbeth doth come. ALL, [dancing in a circle] The Weird Sisters, hand in hand, Posters of the sea and land, Thus do go about, about, Thrice to thine and thrice to mine And thrice again, to make up nine. Peace, the charm's wound up. [Enter Macbeth and Banquo.] MACBETH So foul and fair a day I have not seen. BANQUO How far is 't called to Forres?--What are these, So withered, and so wild in their attire, That look not like th' inhabitants o' th' Earth And yet are on 't?--Live you? Or are you aught That man may question? You seem to understand me By each at once her choppy finger laying Upon her skinny lips. You should be women, And yet your beards forbid me to interpret That you are so. MACBETH Speak if you can. What are you? FIRST WITCH All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, Thane of Glamis! SECOND WITCH All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor! THIRD WITCH All hail, Macbeth, that shalt be king hereafter! BANQUO Good sir, why do you start and seem to fear Things that do sound so fair?--I' th' name of truth, Are you fantastical, or that indeed Which outwardly you show? My noble partner You greet with present grace and great prediction Of noble having and of royal hope, That he seems rapt withal. To me you speak not. If you can look into the seeds of time And say which grain will grow and which will not, Speak, then, to me, who neither beg nor fear Your favors nor your hate. FIRST WITCH Hail! SECOND WITCH Hail! THIRD WITCH Hail! FIRST WITCH Lesser than Macbeth and greater. SECOND WITCH Not so happy, yet much happier. THIRD WITCH Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none. So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo! FIRST WITCH Banquo and Macbeth, all hail! MACBETH Stay, you imperfect speakers. Tell me more. By Sinel's death I know I am Thane of Glamis. But how of Cawdor? The Thane of Cawdor lives A prosperous gentleman, and to be king Stands not within the prospect of belief, No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence You owe this strange intelligence or why Upon this blasted heath you stop our way With such prophetic greeting. Speak, I charge you. [Witches vanish.] BANQUO The earth hath bubbles, as the water has, And these are of them. Whither are they vanished? MACBETH Into the air, and what seemed corporal melted, As breath into the wind. Would they had stayed! BANQUO Were such things here as we do speak about? Or have we eaten on the insane root That takes the reason prisoner? MACBETH Your children shall be kings. BANQUO You shall be king. MACBETH And Thane of Cawdor too. Went it not so? BANQUO To th' selfsame tune and words.--Who's here? [Enter Ross and Angus.] ROSS The King hath happily received, Macbeth, The news of thy success, and, when he reads Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight, His wonders and his praises do contend Which should be thine or his. Silenced with that, In viewing o'er the rest o' th' selfsame day He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks, Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make, Strange images of death. As thick as tale Came post with post, and every one did bear Thy praises in his kingdom's great defense, And poured them down before him. ANGUS We are sent To give thee from our royal master thanks, Only to herald thee into his sight, Not pay thee. ROSS And for an earnest of a greater honor, He bade me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor, In which addition, hail, most worthy thane, For it is thine. BANQUO What, can the devil speak true? MACBETH The Thane of Cawdor lives. Why do you dress me In borrowed robes? ANGUS Who was the Thane lives yet, But under heavy judgment bears that life Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combined With those of Norway, or did line the rebel With hidden help and vantage, or that with both He labored in his country's wrack, I know not; But treasons capital, confessed and proved, Have overthrown him. MACBETH, [aside] Glamis and Thane of Cawdor! The greatest is behind. [To Ross and Angus.] Thanks for your pains. [Aside to Banquo.] Do you not hope your children shall be kings, When those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to me Promised no less to them? BANQUO That, trusted home, Might yet enkindle you unto the crown, Besides the Thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange. And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths, Win us with honest trifles, to betray 's In deepest consequence.-- Cousins, a word, I pray you. [They step aside.] MACBETH, [aside] Two truths are told As happy prologues to the swelling act Of the imperial theme.--I thank you, gentlemen. [Aside.] This supernatural soliciting Cannot be ill, cannot be good. If ill, Why hath it given me earnest of success Commencing in a truth? I am Thane of Cawdor. If good, why do I yield to that suggestion Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair And make my seated heart knock at my ribs Against the use of nature? Present fears Are less than horrible imaginings. My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Shakes so my single state of man That function is smothered in surmise, And nothing is but what is not. BANQUO Look how our partner's rapt. MACBETH, [aside] If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me Without my stir. BANQUO New honors come upon him, Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mold But with the aid of use. MACBETH, [aside] Come what come may, Time and the hour runs through the roughest day. BANQUO Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure. MACBETH Give me your favor. My dull brain was wrought With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains Are registered where every day I turn The leaf to read them. Let us toward the King. [Aside to Banquo.] Think upon what hath chanced, and at more time, The interim having weighed it, let us speak Our free hearts each to other. BANQUO Very gladly. MACBETH Till then, enough.--Come, friends. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Flourish. Enter King Duncan, Lennox, Malcolm, Donalbain, and Attendants.] DUNCAN Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not Those in commission yet returned? MALCOLM My liege, They are not yet come back. But I have spoke With one that saw him die, who did report That very frankly he confessed his treasons, Implored your Highness' pardon, and set forth A deep repentance. Nothing in his life Became him like the leaving it. He died As one that had been studied in his death To throw away the dearest thing he owed As 'twere a careless trifle. DUNCAN There's no art To find the mind's construction in the face. He was a gentleman on whom I built An absolute trust. [Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Ross, and Angus.] O worthiest cousin, The sin of my ingratitude even now Was heavy on me. Thou art so far before That swiftest wing of recompense is slow To overtake thee. Would thou hadst less deserved, That the proportion both of thanks and payment Might have been mine! Only I have left to say, More is thy due than more than all can pay. MACBETH The service and the loyalty I owe In doing it pays itself. Your Highness' part Is to receive our duties, and our duties Are to your throne and state children and servants, Which do but what they should by doing everything Safe toward your love and honor. DUNCAN Welcome hither. I have begun to plant thee and will labor To make thee full of growing.--Noble Banquo, That hast no less deserved nor must be known No less to have done so, let me enfold thee And hold thee to my heart. BANQUO There, if I grow, The harvest is your own. DUNCAN My plenteous joys, Wanton in fullness, seek to hide themselves In drops of sorrow.--Sons, kinsmen, thanes, And you whose places are the nearest, know We will establish our estate upon Our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter The Prince of Cumberland; which honor must Not unaccompanied invest him only, But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine On all deservers.--From hence to Inverness And bind us further to you. MACBETH The rest is labor which is not used for you. I'll be myself the harbinger and make joyful The hearing of my wife with your approach. So humbly take my leave. DUNCAN My worthy Cawdor. MACBETH, [aside] The Prince of Cumberland! That is a step On which I must fall down or else o'erleap, For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires. The eye wink at the hand, yet let that be Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see. [He exits.] DUNCAN True, worthy Banquo. He is full so valiant, And in his commendations I am fed: It is a banquet to me.--Let's after him, Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome. It is a peerless kinsman. [Flourish. They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Macbeth's Wife, alone, with a letter.] LADY MACBETH, [reading the letter] They met me in the day of success, and I have learned by the perfect'st report they have more in them than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desire to question them further, they made themselves air, into which they vanished. Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it came missives from the King, who all-hailed me "Thane of Cawdor," by which title, before, these Weird Sisters saluted me and referred me to the coming on of time with "Hail, king that shalt be." This have I thought good to deliver thee, my dearest partner of greatness, that thou might'st not lose the dues of rejoicing by being ignorant of what greatness is promised thee. Lay it to thy heart, and farewell. Glamis thou art, and Cawdor, and shalt be What thou art promised. Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o' th' milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way. Thou wouldst be great, Art not without ambition, but without The illness should attend it. What thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false And yet wouldst wrongly win. Thou 'dst have, great Glamis, That which cries "Thus thou must do," if thou have it, And that which rather thou dost fear to do, Than wishest should be undone. Hie thee hither, That I may pour my spirits in thine ear And chastise with the valor of my tongue All that impedes thee from the golden round, Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem To have thee crowned withal. [Enter Messenger.] What is your tidings? MESSENGER The King comes here tonight. LADY MACBETH Thou 'rt mad to say it. Is not thy master with him, who, were 't so, Would have informed for preparation? MESSENGER So please you, it is true. Our thane is coming. One of my fellows had the speed of him, Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more Than would make up his message. LADY MACBETH Give him tending. He brings great news. [Messenger exits.] The raven himself is hoarse That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan Under my battlements. Come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full Of direst cruelty. Make thick my blood. Stop up th' access and passage to remorse, That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between Th' effect and it. Come to my woman's breasts And take my milk for gall, you murd'ring ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief. Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark To cry "Hold, hold!" [Enter Macbeth.] Great Glamis, worthy Cawdor, Greater than both by the all-hail hereafter! Thy letters have transported me beyond This ignorant present, and I feel now The future in the instant. MACBETH My dearest love, Duncan comes here tonight. LADY MACBETH And when goes hence? MACBETH Tomorrow, as he purposes. LADY MACBETH O, never Shall sun that morrow see! Your face, my thane, is as a book where men May read strange matters. To beguile the time, Look like the time. Bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue. Look like th' innocent flower, But be the serpent under 't. He that's coming Must be provided for; and you shall put This night's great business into my dispatch, Which shall to all our nights and days to come Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom. MACBETH We will speak further. LADY MACBETH Only look up clear. To alter favor ever is to fear. Leave all the rest to me. [They exit.] Scene 6 ======= [Hautboys and Torches. Enter King Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Banquo, Lennox, Macduff, Ross, Angus, and Attendants.] DUNCAN This castle hath a pleasant seat. The air Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself Unto our gentle senses. BANQUO This guest of summer, The temple-haunting martlet, does approve, By his loved mansionry, that the heaven's breath Smells wooingly here. No jutty, frieze, Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird Hath made his pendant bed and procreant cradle. Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed, The air is delicate. [Enter Lady Macbeth.] DUNCAN See, see our honored hostess!-- The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach you How you shall bid God 'ild us for your pains And thank us for your trouble. LADY MACBETH All our service, In every point twice done and then done double, Were poor and single business to contend Against those honors deep and broad wherewith Your Majesty loads our house. For those of old, And the late dignities heaped up to them, We rest your hermits. DUNCAN Where's the Thane of Cawdor? We coursed him at the heels and had a purpose To be his purveyor; but he rides well, And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath helped him To his home before us. Fair and noble hostess, We are your guest tonight. LADY MACBETH Your servants ever Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs in compt To make their audit at your Highness' pleasure, Still to return your own. DUNCAN Give me your hand. [Taking her hand.] Conduct me to mine host. We love him highly And shall continue our graces towards him. By your leave, hostess. [They exit.] Scene 7 ======= [Hautboys. Torches. Enter a Sewer and divers Servants with dishes and service over the stage. Then enter Macbeth.] MACBETH If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly. If th' assassination Could trammel up the consequence and catch With his surcease success, that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, We'd jump the life to come. But in these cases We still have judgment here, that we but teach Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return To plague th' inventor. This even-handed justice Commends th' ingredience of our poisoned chalice To our own lips. He's here in double trust: First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, Strong both against the deed; then, as his host, Who should against his murderer shut the door, Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking-off; And pity, like a naked newborn babe Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubin horsed Upon the sightless couriers of the air, Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent, but only Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself And falls on th' other-- [Enter Lady Macbeth.] How now, what news? LADY MACBETH He has almost supped. Why have you left the chamber? MACBETH Hath he asked for me? LADY MACBETH Know you not he has? MACBETH We will proceed no further in this business. He hath honored me of late, and I have bought Golden opinions from all sorts of people, Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, Not cast aside so soon. LADY MACBETH Was the hope drunk Wherein you dressed yourself? Hath it slept since? And wakes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely? From this time Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and valor As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life And live a coward in thine own esteem, Letting "I dare not" wait upon "I would," Like the poor cat i' th' adage? MACBETH Prithee, peace. I dare do all that may become a man. Who dares do more is none. LADY MACBETH What beast was 't, then, That made you break this enterprise to me? When you durst do it, then you were a man; And to be more than what you were, you would Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place Did then adhere, and yet you would make both. They have made themselves, and that their fitness now Does unmake you. I have given suck, and know How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me. I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have plucked my nipple from his boneless gums And dashed the brains out, had I so sworn as you Have done to this. MACBETH If we should fail-- LADY MACBETH We fail? But screw your courage to the sticking place And we'll not fail. When Duncan is asleep (Whereto the rather shall his day's hard journey Soundly invite him), his two chamberlains Will I with wine and wassail so convince That memory, the warder of the brain, Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason A limbeck only. When in swinish sleep Their drenched natures lies as in a death, What cannot you and I perform upon Th' unguarded Duncan? What not put upon His spongy officers, who shall bear the guilt Of our great quell? MACBETH Bring forth men-children only, For thy undaunted mettle should compose Nothing but males. Will it not be received, When we have marked with blood those sleepy two Of his own chamber and used their very daggers, That they have done 't? LADY MACBETH Who dares receive it other, As we shall make our griefs and clamor roar Upon his death? MACBETH I am settled and bend up Each corporal agent to this terrible feat. Away, and mock the time with fairest show. False face must hide what the false heart doth know. [They exit.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Banquo, and Fleance with a torch before him.] BANQUO How goes the night, boy? FLEANCE The moon is down. I have not heard the clock. BANQUO And she goes down at twelve. FLEANCE I take 't 'tis later, sir. BANQUO Hold, take my sword. [He gives his sword to Fleance.] There's husbandry in heaven; Their candles are all out. Take thee that too. A heavy summons lies like lead upon me, And yet I would not sleep. Merciful powers, Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature Gives way to in repose. [Enter Macbeth, and a Servant with a torch.] Give me my sword.--Who's there? MACBETH A friend. BANQUO What, sir, not yet at rest? The King's abed. He hath been in unusual pleasure, and Sent forth great largess to your offices. This diamond he greets your wife withal, By the name of most kind hostess, and shut up In measureless content. [He gives Macbeth a jewel.] MACBETH Being unprepared, Our will became the servant to defect, Which else should free have wrought. BANQUO All's well. I dreamt last night of the three Weird Sisters. To you they have showed some truth. MACBETH I think not of them. Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve, We would spend it in some words upon that business, If you would grant the time. BANQUO At your kind'st leisure. MACBETH If you shall cleave to my consent, when 'tis, It shall make honor for you. BANQUO So I lose none In seeking to augment it, but still keep My bosom franchised and allegiance clear, I shall be counseled. MACBETH Good repose the while. BANQUO Thanks, sir. The like to you. [Banquo and Fleance exit.] MACBETH Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready, She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed. [Servant exits.] Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight? Or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw. [He draws his dagger.] Thou marshal'st me the way that I was going, And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o' th' other senses Or else worth all the rest. I see thee still, And, on thy blade and dudgeon, gouts of blood, Which was not so before. There's no such thing. It is the bloody business which informs Thus to mine eyes. Now o'er the one-half world Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse The curtained sleep. Witchcraft celebrates Pale Hecate's off'rings, and withered murder, Alarumed by his sentinel, the wolf, Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace, With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth, Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear Thy very stones prate of my whereabouts And take the present horror from the time, Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lives. Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives. [A bell rings.] I go, and it is done. The bell invites me. Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a knell That summons thee to heaven or to hell. [He exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Lady Macbeth.] LADY MACBETH That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold. What hath quenched them hath given me fire. Hark!--Peace. It was the owl that shrieked, the fatal bellman, Which gives the stern'st good-night. He is about it. The doors are open, and the surfeited grooms Do mock their charge with snores. I have drugged their possets, That death and nature do contend about them Whether they live or die. MACBETH, [within] Who's there? what, ho! LADY MACBETH Alack, I am afraid they have awaked, And 'tis not done. Th' attempt and not the deed Confounds us. Hark!--I laid their daggers ready; He could not miss 'em. Had he not resembled My father as he slept, I had done 't. [Enter Macbeth with bloody daggers.] My husband? MACBETH I have done the deed. Didst thou not hear a noise? LADY MACBETH I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry. Did not you speak? MACBETH When? LADY MACBETH Now. MACBETH As I descended? LADY MACBETH Ay. MACBETH Hark!--Who lies i' th' second chamber? LADY MACBETH Donalbain. MACBETH This is a sorry sight. LADY MACBETH A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight. MACBETH There's one did laugh in 's sleep, and one cried "Murder!" That they did wake each other. I stood and heard them. But they did say their prayers and addressed them Again to sleep. LADY MACBETH There are two lodged together. MACBETH One cried "God bless us" and "Amen" the other, As they had seen me with these hangman's hands, List'ning their fear. I could not say "Amen" When they did say "God bless us." LADY MACBETH Consider it not so deeply. MACBETH But wherefore could not I pronounce "Amen"? I had most need of blessing, and "Amen" Stuck in my throat. LADY MACBETH These deeds must not be thought After these ways; so, it will make us mad. MACBETH Methought I heard a voice cry "Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep"--the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the raveled sleave of care, The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast. LADY MACBETH What do you mean? MACBETH Still it cried "Sleep no more!" to all the house. "Glamis hath murdered sleep, and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more. Macbeth shall sleep no more." LADY MACBETH Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane, You do unbend your noble strength to think So brainsickly of things. Go get some water And wash this filthy witness from your hand.-- Why did you bring these daggers from the place? They must lie there. Go, carry them and smear The sleepy grooms with blood. MACBETH I'll go no more. I am afraid to think what I have done. Look on 't again I dare not. LADY MACBETH Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers. The sleeping and the dead Are but as pictures. 'Tis the eye of childhood That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal, For it must seem their guilt. [She exits with the daggers. Knock within.] MACBETH Whence is that knocking? How is 't with me when every noise appalls me? What hands are here! Ha, they pluck out mine eyes. Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine, Making the green one red. [Enter Lady Macbeth.] LADY MACBETH My hands are of your color, but I shame To wear a heart so white. [Knock.] I hear a knocking At the south entry. Retire we to our chamber. A little water clears us of this deed. How easy is it, then! Your constancy Hath left you unattended. [Knock.] Hark, more knocking. Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us And show us to be watchers. Be not lost So poorly in your thoughts. MACBETH To know my deed 'twere best not know myself. [Knock.] Wake Duncan with thy knocking. I would thou couldst. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Knocking within. Enter a Porter.] PORTER Here's a knocking indeed! If a man were porter of hell gate, he should have old turning the key. [(Knock.)] Knock, knock, knock! Who's there, i' th' name of Beelzebub? Here's a farmer that hanged himself on th' expectation of plenty. Come in time! Have napkins enough about you; here you'll sweat for 't. [(Knock.)] Knock, knock! Who's there, in th' other devil's name? Faith, here's an equivocator that could swear in both the scales against either scale, who committed treason enough for God's sake yet could not equivocate to heaven. O, come in, equivocator. [(Knock.)] Knock, knock, knock! Who's there? Faith, here's an English tailor come hither for stealing out of a French hose. Come in, tailor. Here you may roast your goose. [(Knock.)] Knock, knock! Never at quiet.--What are you?--But this place is too cold for hell. I'll devil-porter it no further. I had thought to have let in some of all professions that go the primrose way to th' everlasting bonfire. [(Knock.)] Anon, anon! [The Porter opens the door to Macduff and Lennox.] I pray you, remember the porter. MACDUFF Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed That you do lie so late? PORTER Faith, sir, we were carousing till the second cock, and drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things. MACDUFF What three things does drink especially provoke? PORTER Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and urine. Lechery, sir, it provokes and unprovokes. It provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance. Therefore much drink may be said to be an equivocator with lechery. It makes him, and it mars him; it sets him on, and it takes him off; it persuades him and disheartens him; makes him stand to and not stand to; in conclusion, equivocates him in a sleep and, giving him the lie, leaves him. MACDUFF I believe drink gave thee the lie last night. PORTER That it did, sir, i' th' very throat on me; but I requited him for his lie, and, I think, being too strong for him, though he took up my legs sometime, yet I made a shift to cast him. MACDUFF Is thy master stirring? [Enter Macbeth.] Our knocking has awaked him. Here he comes. [Porter exits.] LENNOX Good morrow, noble sir. MACBETH Good morrow, both. MACDUFF Is the King stirring, worthy thane? MACBETH Not yet. MACDUFF He did command me to call timely on him. I have almost slipped the hour. MACBETH I'll bring you to him. MACDUFF I know this is a joyful trouble to you, But yet 'tis one. MACBETH The labor we delight in physics pain. This is the door. MACDUFF I'll make so bold to call, For 'tis my limited service. [Macduff exits.] LENNOX Goes the King hence today? MACBETH He does. He did appoint so. LENNOX The night has been unruly. Where we lay, Our chimneys were blown down and, as they say, Lamentings heard i' th' air, strange screams of death, And prophesying, with accents terrible, Of dire combustion and confused events New hatched to th' woeful time. The obscure bird Clamored the livelong night. Some say the Earth Was feverous and did shake. MACBETH 'Twas a rough night. LENNOX My young remembrance cannot parallel A fellow to it. [Enter Macduff.] MACDUFF O horror, horror, horror! Tongue nor heart cannot conceive nor name thee! MACBETH AND LENNOX What's the matter? MACDUFF Confusion now hath made his masterpiece. Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope The Lord's anointed temple and stole thence The life o' th' building. MACBETH What is 't you say? The life? LENNOX Mean you his Majesty? MACDUFF Approach the chamber and destroy your sight With a new Gorgon. Do not bid me speak. See and then speak yourselves. [Macbeth and Lennox exit.] Awake, awake! Ring the alarum bell.--Murder and treason! Banquo and Donalbain, Malcolm, awake! Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit, And look on death itself. Up, up, and see The great doom's image. Malcolm, Banquo, As from your graves rise up and walk like sprites To countenance this horror.--Ring the bell. [Bell rings.] [Enter Lady Macbeth.] LADY MACBETH What's the business, That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley The sleepers of the house? Speak, speak! MACDUFF O gentle lady, 'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak. The repetition in a woman's ear Would murder as it fell. [Enter Banquo.] O Banquo, Banquo, Our royal master's murdered. LADY MACBETH Woe, alas! What, in our house? BANQUO Too cruel anywhere.-- Dear Duff, I prithee, contradict thyself And say it is not so. [Enter Macbeth, Lennox, and Ross.] MACBETH Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had lived a blessed time; for from this instant There's nothing serious in mortality. All is but toys. Renown and grace is dead. The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of. [Enter Malcolm and Donalbain.] DONALBAIN What is amiss? MACBETH You are, and do not know 't. The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood Is stopped; the very source of it is stopped. MACDUFF Your royal father's murdered. MALCOLM O, by whom? LENNOX Those of his chamber, as it seemed, had done 't. Their hands and faces were all badged with blood. So were their daggers, which unwiped we found Upon their pillows. They stared and were distracted. No man's life was to be trusted with them. MACBETH O, yet I do repent me of my fury, That I did kill them. MACDUFF Wherefore did you so? MACBETH Who can be wise, amazed, temp'rate, and furious, Loyal, and neutral, in a moment? No man. Th' expedition of my violent love Outrun the pauser, reason. Here lay Duncan, His silver skin laced with his golden blood, And his gashed stabs looked like a breach in nature For ruin's wasteful entrance; there the murderers, Steeped in the colors of their trade, their daggers Unmannerly breeched with gore. Who could refrain That had a heart to love, and in that heart Courage to make 's love known? LADY MACBETH Help me hence, ho! MACDUFF Look to the lady. MALCOLM, [aside to Donalbain] Why do we hold our tongues, That most may claim this argument for ours? DONALBAIN, [aside to Malcolm] What should be spoken here, where our fate, Hid in an auger hole, may rush and seize us? Let's away. Our tears are not yet brewed. MALCOLM, [aside to Donalbain] Nor our strong sorrow upon the foot of motion. BANQUO Look to the lady. [Lady Macbeth is assisted to leave.] And when we have our naked frailties hid, That suffer in exposure, let us meet And question this most bloody piece of work To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us. In the great hand of God I stand, and thence Against the undivulged pretense I fight Of treasonous malice. MACDUFF And so do I. ALL So all. MACBETH Let's briefly put on manly readiness And meet i' th' hall together. ALL Well contented. [All but Malcolm and Donalbain exit.] MALCOLM What will you do? Let's not consort with them. To show an unfelt sorrow is an office Which the false man does easy. I'll to England. DONALBAIN To Ireland I. Our separated fortune Shall keep us both the safer. Where we are, There's daggers in men's smiles. The near in blood, The nearer bloody. MALCOLM This murderous shaft that's shot Hath not yet lighted, and our safest way Is to avoid the aim. Therefore to horse, And let us not be dainty of leave-taking But shift away. There's warrant in that theft Which steals itself when there's no mercy left. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Ross with an Old Man.] OLD MAN Threescore and ten I can remember well, Within the volume of which time I have seen Hours dreadful and things strange, but this sore night Hath trifled former knowings. ROSS Ha, good father, Thou seest the heavens, as troubled with man's act, Threatens his bloody stage. By th' clock 'tis day, And yet dark night strangles the traveling lamp. Is 't night's predominance or the day's shame That darkness does the face of earth entomb When living light should kiss it? OLD MAN 'Tis unnatural, Even like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last A falcon, tow'ring in her pride of place, Was by a mousing owl hawked at and killed. ROSS And Duncan's horses (a thing most strange and certain), Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race, Turned wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out, Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would Make war with mankind. OLD MAN 'Tis said they eat each other. ROSS They did so, to th' amazement of mine eyes That looked upon 't. [Enter Macduff.] Here comes the good Macduff.-- How goes the world, sir, now? MACDUFF Why, see you not? ROSS Is 't known who did this more than bloody deed? MACDUFF Those that Macbeth hath slain. ROSS Alas the day, What good could they pretend? MACDUFF They were suborned. Malcolm and Donalbain, the King's two sons, Are stol'n away and fled, which puts upon them Suspicion of the deed. ROSS 'Gainst nature still! Thriftless ambition, that will ravin up Thine own lives' means. Then 'tis most like The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth. MACDUFF He is already named and gone to Scone To be invested. ROSS Where is Duncan's body? MACDUFF Carried to Colmekill, The sacred storehouse of his predecessors And guardian of their bones. ROSS Will you to Scone? MACDUFF No, cousin, I'll to Fife. ROSS Well, I will thither. MACDUFF Well, may you see things well done there. Adieu, Lest our old robes sit easier than our new. ROSS Farewell, father. OLD MAN God's benison go with you and with those That would make good of bad and friends of foes. [All exit.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Banquo.] BANQUO Thou hast it now--king, Cawdor, Glamis, all As the Weird Women promised, and I fear Thou played'st most foully for 't. Yet it was said It should not stand in thy posterity, But that myself should be the root and father Of many kings. If there come truth from them (As upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine) Why, by the verities on thee made good, May they not be my oracles as well, And set me up in hope? But hush, no more. [Sennet sounded. Enter Macbeth as King, Lady Macbeth, Lennox, Ross, Lords, and Attendants.] MACBETH Here's our chief guest. LADY MACBETH If he had been forgotten, It had been as a gap in our great feast And all-thing unbecoming. MACBETH Tonight we hold a solemn supper, sir, And I'll request your presence. BANQUO Let your Highness Command upon me, to the which my duties Are with a most indissoluble tie Forever knit. MACBETH Ride you this afternoon? BANQUO Ay, my good lord. MACBETH We should have else desired your good advice (Which still hath been both grave and prosperous) In this day's council, but we'll take tomorrow. Is 't far you ride? BANQUO As far, my lord, as will fill up the time 'Twixt this and supper. Go not my horse the better, I must become a borrower of the night For a dark hour or twain. MACBETH Fail not our feast. BANQUO My lord, I will not. MACBETH We hear our bloody cousins are bestowed In England and in Ireland, not confessing Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers With strange invention. But of that tomorrow, When therewithal we shall have cause of state Craving us jointly. Hie you to horse. Adieu, Till you return at night. Goes Fleance with you? BANQUO Ay, my good lord. Our time does call upon 's. MACBETH I wish your horses swift and sure of foot, And so I do commend you to their backs. Farewell. [Banquo exits.] Let every man be master of his time Till seven at night. To make society The sweeter welcome, we will keep ourself Till suppertime alone. While then, God be with you. [Lords and all but Macbeth and a Servant exit.] Sirrah, a word with you. Attend those men Our pleasure? SERVANT They are, my lord, without the palace gate. MACBETH Bring them before us. [Servant exits.] To be thus is nothing, But to be safely thus. Our fears in Banquo Stick deep, and in his royalty of nature Reigns that which would be feared. 'Tis much he dares, And to that dauntless temper of his mind He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valor To act in safety. There is none but he Whose being I do fear; and under him My genius is rebuked, as it is said Mark Antony's was by Caesar. He chid the sisters When first they put the name of king upon me And bade them speak to him. Then, prophet-like, They hailed him father to a line of kings. Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown And put a barren scepter in my grip, Thence to be wrenched with an unlineal hand, No son of mine succeeding. If 't be so, For Banquo's issue have I filed my mind; For them the gracious Duncan have I murdered, Put rancors in the vessel of my peace Only for them, and mine eternal jewel Given to the common enemy of man To make them kings, the seeds of Banquo kings. Rather than so, come fate into the list, And champion me to th' utterance.--Who's there? [Enter Servant and two Murderers.] [To the Servant.] Now go to the door, and stay there till we call. [Servant exits.] Was it not yesterday we spoke together? MURDERERS It was, so please your Highness. MACBETH Well then, now Have you considered of my speeches? Know That it was he, in the times past, which held you So under fortune, which you thought had been Our innocent self. This I made good to you In our last conference, passed in probation with you How you were borne in hand, how crossed, the instruments, Who wrought with them, and all things else that might To half a soul and to a notion crazed Say "Thus did Banquo." FIRST MURDERER You made it known to us. MACBETH I did so, and went further, which is now Our point of second meeting. Do you find Your patience so predominant in your nature That you can let this go? Are you so gospeled To pray for this good man and for his issue, Whose heavy hand hath bowed you to the grave And beggared yours forever? FIRST MURDERER We are men, my liege. MACBETH Ay, in the catalogue you go for men, As hounds and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs, Shoughs, water-rugs, and demi-wolves are clept All by the name of dogs. The valued file Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle, The housekeeper, the hunter, every one According to the gift which bounteous nature Hath in him closed; whereby he does receive Particular addition, from the bill That writes them all alike. And so of men. Now, if you have a station in the file, Not i' th' worst rank of manhood, say 't, And I will put that business in your bosoms Whose execution takes your enemy off, Grapples you to the heart and love of us, Who wear our health but sickly in his life, Which in his death were perfect. SECOND MURDERER I am one, my liege, Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world Hath so incensed that I am reckless what I do to spite the world. FIRST MURDERER And I another So weary with disasters, tugged with fortune, That I would set my life on any chance, To mend it or be rid on 't. MACBETH Both of you Know Banquo was your enemy. MURDERERS True, my lord. MACBETH So is he mine, and in such bloody distance That every minute of his being thrusts Against my near'st of life. And though I could With barefaced power sweep him from my sight And bid my will avouch it, yet I must not, For certain friends that are both his and mine, Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall Who I myself struck down. And thence it is That I to your assistance do make love, Masking the business from the common eye For sundry weighty reasons. SECOND MURDERER We shall, my lord, Perform what you command us. FIRST MURDERER Though our lives-- MACBETH Your spirits shine through you. Within this hour at most I will advise you where to plant yourselves, Acquaint you with the perfect spy o' th' time, The moment on 't, for 't must be done tonight And something from the palace; always thought That I require a clearness. And with him (To leave no rubs nor botches in the work) Fleance, his son, that keeps him company, Whose absence is no less material to me Than is his father's, must embrace the fate Of that dark hour. Resolve yourselves apart. I'll come to you anon. MURDERERS We are resolved, my lord. MACBETH I'll call upon you straight. Abide within. [Murderers exit.] It is concluded. Banquo, thy soul's flight, If it find heaven, must find it out tonight. [He exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Macbeth's Lady and a Servant.] LADY MACBETH Is Banquo gone from court? SERVANT Ay, madam, but returns again tonight. LADY MACBETH Say to the King I would attend his leisure For a few words. SERVANT Madam, I will. [He exits.] LADY MACBETH Naught's had, all's spent, Where our desire is got without content. 'Tis safer to be that which we destroy Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy. [Enter Macbeth.] How now, my lord, why do you keep alone, Of sorriest fancies your companions making, Using those thoughts which should indeed have died With them they think on? Things without all remedy Should be without regard. What's done is done. MACBETH We have scorched the snake, not killed it. She'll close and be herself whilst our poor malice Remains in danger of her former tooth. But let the frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer, Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep In the affliction of these terrible dreams That shake us nightly. Better be with the dead, Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace, Than on the torture of the mind to lie In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave. After life's fitful fever he sleeps well. Treason has done his worst; nor steel nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing Can touch him further. LADY MACBETH Come on, gentle my lord, Sleek o'er your rugged looks. Be bright and jovial Among your guests tonight. MACBETH So shall I, love, And so I pray be you. Let your remembrance Apply to Banquo; present him eminence Both with eye and tongue: unsafe the while that we Must lave our honors in these flattering streams And make our faces vizards to our hearts, Disguising what they are. LADY MACBETH You must leave this. MACBETH O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife! Thou know'st that Banquo and his Fleance lives. LADY MACBETH But in them nature's copy's not eterne. MACBETH There's comfort yet; they are assailable. Then be thou jocund. Ere the bat hath flown His cloistered flight, ere to black Hecate's summons The shard-born beetle with his drowsy hums Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done A deed of dreadful note. LADY MACBETH What's to be done? MACBETH Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck, Till thou applaud the deed.--Come, seeling night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day And with thy bloody and invisible hand Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond Which keeps me pale. Light thickens, and the crow Makes wing to th' rooky wood. Good things of day begin to droop and drowse, Whiles night's black agents to their preys do rouse.-- Thou marvel'st at my words, but hold thee still. Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill. So prithee go with me. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter three Murderers.] FIRST MURDERER But who did bid thee join with us? THIRD MURDERER Macbeth. SECOND MURDERER, [to the First Murderer] He needs not our mistrust, since he delivers Our offices and what we have to do To the direction just. FIRST MURDERER Then stand with us.-- The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day. Now spurs the lated traveler apace To gain the timely inn, and near approaches The subject of our watch. THIRD MURDERER Hark, I hear horses. BANQUO, [within] Give us a light there, ho! SECOND MURDERER Then 'tis he. The rest That are within the note of expectation Already are i' th' court. FIRST MURDERER His horses go about. THIRD MURDERER Almost a mile; but he does usually (So all men do) from hence to th' palace gate Make it their walk. [Enter Banquo and Fleance, with a torch.] SECOND MURDERER A light, a light! THIRD MURDERER 'Tis he. FIRST MURDERER Stand to 't. BANQUO, [to Fleance] It will be rain tonight. FIRST MURDERER Let it come down! [The three Murderers attack.] BANQUO O treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly! Thou mayst revenge--O slave! [He dies. Fleance exits.] THIRD MURDERER Who did strike out the light? FIRST MURDERER Was 't not the way? THIRD MURDERER There's but one down. The son is fled. SECOND MURDERER We have lost best half of our affair. FIRST MURDERER Well, let's away and say how much is done. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Banquet prepared. Enter Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, Ross, Lennox, Lords, and Attendants.] MACBETH You know your own degrees; sit down. At first And last, the hearty welcome. [They sit.] LORDS Thanks to your Majesty. MACBETH Ourself will mingle with society And play the humble host. Our hostess keeps her state, but in best time We will require her welcome. LADY MACBETH Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends, For my heart speaks they are welcome. [Enter First Murderer to the door.] MACBETH See, they encounter thee with their hearts' thanks. Both sides are even. Here I'll sit i' th' midst. Be large in mirth. Anon we'll drink a measure The table round. [He approaches the Murderer.] There's blood upon thy face. MURDERER 'Tis Banquo's then. MACBETH 'Tis better thee without than he within. Is he dispatched? MURDERER My lord, his throat is cut. That I did for him. MACBETH Thou art the best o' th' cutthroats, Yet he's good that did the like for Fleance. If thou didst it, thou art the nonpareil. MURDERER Most royal sir, Fleance is 'scaped. MACBETH, [aside] Then comes my fit again. I had else been perfect, Whole as the marble, founded as the rock, As broad and general as the casing air. But now I am cabined, cribbed, confined, bound in To saucy doubts and fears.--But Banquo's safe? MURDERER Ay, my good lord. Safe in a ditch he bides, With twenty trenched gashes on his head, The least a death to nature. MACBETH Thanks for that. There the grown serpent lies. The worm that's fled Hath nature that in time will venom breed, No teeth for th' present. Get thee gone. Tomorrow We'll hear ourselves again. [Murderer exits.] LADY MACBETH My royal lord, You do not give the cheer. The feast is sold That is not often vouched, while 'tis a-making, 'Tis given with welcome. To feed were best at home; From thence, the sauce to meat is ceremony; Meeting were bare without it. [Enter the Ghost of Banquo, and sits in Macbeth's place.] MACBETH, [to Lady Macbeth] Sweet remembrancer!-- Now, good digestion wait on appetite And health on both! LENNOX May 't please your Highness sit. MACBETH Here had we now our country's honor roofed, Were the graced person of our Banquo present, Who may I rather challenge for unkindness Than pity for mischance. ROSS His absence, sir, Lays blame upon his promise. Please 't your Highness To grace us with your royal company? MACBETH The table's full. LENNOX Here is a place reserved, sir. MACBETH Where? LENNOX Here, my good lord. What is 't that moves your Highness? MACBETH Which of you have done this? LORDS What, my good lord? MACBETH, [to the Ghost] Thou canst not say I did it. Never shake Thy gory locks at me. ROSS Gentlemen, rise. His Highness is not well. LADY MACBETH Sit, worthy friends. My lord is often thus And hath been from his youth. Pray you, keep seat. The fit is momentary; upon a thought He will again be well. If much you note him You shall offend him and extend his passion. Feed and regard him not. [Drawing Macbeth aside.] Are you a man? MACBETH Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that Which might appall the devil. LADY MACBETH O, proper stuff! This is the very painting of your fear. This is the air-drawn dagger which you said Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws and starts, Impostors to true fear, would well become A woman's story at a winter's fire, Authorized by her grandam. Shame itself! Why do you make such faces? When all's done, You look but on a stool. MACBETH Prithee, see there. Behold, look! [To the Ghost.] Lo, how say you? Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too.-- If charnel houses and our graves must send Those that we bury back, our monuments Shall be the maws of kites. [Ghost exits.] LADY MACBETH What, quite unmanned in folly? MACBETH If I stand here, I saw him. LADY MACBETH Fie, for shame! MACBETH Blood hath been shed ere now, i' th' olden time, Ere humane statute purged the gentle weal; Ay, and since too, murders have been performed Too terrible for the ear. The time has been That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end. But now they rise again With twenty mortal murders on their crowns And push us from our stools. This is more strange Than such a murder is. LADY MACBETH My worthy lord, Your noble friends do lack you. MACBETH I do forget.-- Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends. I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing To those that know me. Come, love and health to all. Then I'll sit down.--Give me some wine. Fill full. [Enter Ghost.] I drink to th' general joy o' th' whole table And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss. Would he were here! To all, and him we thirst, And all to all. LORDS Our duties, and the pledge. [They raise their drinking cups.] MACBETH, [to the Ghost] Avaunt, and quit my sight! Let the earth hide thee. Thy bones are marrowless; thy blood is cold; Thou hast no speculation in those eyes Which thou dost glare with. LADY MACBETH Think of this, good peers, But as a thing of custom. 'Tis no other; Only it spoils the pleasure of the time. MACBETH, [to the Ghost] What man dare, I dare. Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, The armed rhinoceros, or th' Hyrcan tiger; Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves Shall never tremble. Or be alive again And dare me to the desert with thy sword. If trembling I inhabit then, protest me The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow! Unreal mock'ry, hence! [Ghost exits.] Why so, being gone, I am a man again.--Pray you sit still. LADY MACBETH You have displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting With most admired disorder. MACBETH Can such things be And overcome us like a summer's cloud, Without our special wonder? You make me strange Even to the disposition that I owe When now I think you can behold such sights And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks When mine is blanched with fear. ROSS What sights, my lord? LADY MACBETH I pray you, speak not. He grows worse and worse. Question enrages him. At once, good night. Stand not upon the order of your going, But go at once. LENNOX Good night, and better health Attend his Majesty. LADY MACBETH A kind good night to all. [Lords and all but Macbeth and Lady Macbeth exit.] MACBETH It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood. Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak. Augurs and understood relations have By maggot pies and choughs and rooks brought forth The secret'st man of blood.--What is the night? LADY MACBETH Almost at odds with morning, which is which. MACBETH How say'st thou that Macduff denies his person At our great bidding? LADY MACBETH Did you send to him, sir? MACBETH I hear it by the way; but I will send. There's not a one of them but in his house I keep a servant fee'd. I will tomorrow (And betimes I will) to the Weird Sisters. More shall they speak, for now I am bent to know By the worst means the worst. For mine own good, All causes shall give way. I am in blood Stepped in so far that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er. Strange things I have in head that will to hand, Which must be acted ere they may be scanned. LADY MACBETH You lack the season of all natures, sleep. MACBETH Come, we'll to sleep. My strange and self-abuse Is the initiate fear that wants hard use. We are yet but young in deed. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Thunder. Enter the three Witches, meeting Hecate.] FIRST WITCH Why, how now, Hecate? You look angerly. HECATE Have I not reason, beldams as you are? Saucy and overbold, how did you dare To trade and traffic with Macbeth In riddles and affairs of death, And I, the mistress of your charms, The close contriver of all harms, Was never called to bear my part Or show the glory of our art? And which is worse, all you have done Hath been but for a wayward son, Spiteful and wrathful, who, as others do, Loves for his own ends, not for you. But make amends now. Get you gone, And at the pit of Acheron Meet me i' th' morning. Thither he Will come to know his destiny. Your vessels and your spells provide, Your charms and everything beside. I am for th' air. This night I'll spend Unto a dismal and a fatal end. Great business must be wrought ere noon. Upon the corner of the moon There hangs a vap'rous drop profound. I'll catch it ere it come to ground, And that, distilled by magic sleights, Shall raise such artificial sprites As by the strength of their illusion Shall draw him on to his confusion. He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace, and fear. And you all know, security Is mortals' chiefest enemy. [Music and a song.] Hark! I am called. My little spirit, see, Sits in a foggy cloud and stays for me. [Hecate exits.] [Sing within "Come away, come away," etc.] FIRST WITCH Come, let's make haste. She'll soon be back again. [They exit.] Scene 6 ======= [Enter Lennox and another Lord.] LENNOX My former speeches have but hit your thoughts, Which can interpret farther. Only I say Things have been strangely borne. The gracious Duncan Was pitied of Macbeth; marry, he was dead. And the right valiant Banquo walked too late, Whom you may say, if 't please you, Fleance killed, For Fleance fled. Men must not walk too late. Who cannot want the thought how monstrous It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain To kill their gracious father? Damned fact, How it did grieve Macbeth! Did he not straight In pious rage the two delinquents tear That were the slaves of drink and thralls of sleep? Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely, too, For 'twould have angered any heart alive To hear the men deny 't. So that I say He has borne all things well. And I do think That had he Duncan's sons under his key (As, an 't please heaven, he shall not) they should find What 'twere to kill a father. So should Fleance. But peace. For from broad words, and 'cause he failed His presence at the tyrant's feast, I hear Macduff lives in disgrace. Sir, can you tell Where he bestows himself? LORD The son of Duncan (From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth) Lives in the English court and is received Of the most pious Edward with such grace That the malevolence of fortune nothing Takes from his high respect. Thither Macduff Is gone to pray the holy king upon his aid To wake Northumberland and warlike Siward That, by the help of these (with Him above To ratify the work), we may again Give to our tables meat, sleep to our nights, Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives, Do faithful homage, and receive free honors, All which we pine for now. And this report Hath so exasperate the King that he Prepares for some attempt of war. LENNOX Sent he to Macduff? LORD He did, and with an absolute "Sir, not I," The cloudy messenger turns me his back And hums, as who should say "You'll rue the time That clogs me with this answer." LENNOX And that well might Advise him to a caution t' hold what distance His wisdom can provide. Some holy angel Fly to the court of England and unfold His message ere he come, that a swift blessing May soon return to this our suffering country Under a hand accursed. LORD I'll send my prayers with him. [They exit.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Thunder. Enter the three Witches.] FIRST WITCH Thrice the brinded cat hath mewed. SECOND WITCH Thrice, and once the hedge-pig whined. THIRD WITCH Harpier cries "'Tis time, 'tis time!" FIRST WITCH Round about the cauldron go; In the poisoned entrails throw. Toad, that under cold stone Days and nights has thirty-one Sweltered venom sleeping got, Boil thou first i' th' charmed pot. [The Witches circle the cauldron.] ALL Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble. SECOND WITCH Fillet of a fenny snake In the cauldron boil and bake. Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and tongue of dog, Adder's fork and blindworm's sting, Lizard's leg and howlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. ALL Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble. THIRD WITCH Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, Witch's mummy, maw and gulf Of the ravined salt-sea shark, Root of hemlock digged i' th' dark, Liver of blaspheming Jew, Gall of goat and slips of yew Slivered in the moon's eclipse, Nose of Turk and Tartar's lips, Finger of birth-strangled babe Ditch-delivered by a drab, Make the gruel thick and slab. Add thereto a tiger's chaudron For th' ingredience of our cauldron. ALL Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble. SECOND WITCH Cool it with a baboon's blood. Then the charm is firm and good. [Enter Hecate to the other three Witches.] HECATE O, well done! I commend your pains, And everyone shall share i' th' gains. And now about the cauldron sing Like elves and fairies in a ring, Enchanting all that you put in. [Music and a song: "Black Spirits," etc. Hecate exits.] SECOND WITCH By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes. Open, locks, Whoever knocks. [Enter Macbeth.] MACBETH How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags? What is 't you do? ALL A deed without a name. MACBETH I conjure you by that which you profess (Howe'er you come to know it), answer me. Though you untie the winds and let them fight Against the churches, though the yeasty waves Confound and swallow navigation up, Though bladed corn be lodged and trees blown down, Though castles topple on their warders' heads, Though palaces and pyramids do slope Their heads to their foundations, though the treasure Of nature's germens tumble all together Even till destruction sicken, answer me To what I ask you. FIRST WITCH Speak. SECOND WITCH Demand. THIRD WITCH We'll answer. FIRST WITCH Say if th' hadst rather hear it from our mouths Or from our masters'. MACBETH Call 'em. Let me see 'em. FIRST WITCH Pour in sow's blood that hath eaten Her nine farrow; grease that's sweaten From the murderers' gibbet throw Into the flame. ALL Come high or low; Thyself and office deftly show. [Thunder. First Apparition, an Armed Head.] MACBETH Tell me, thou unknown power-- FIRST WITCH He knows thy thought. Hear his speech but say thou naught. FIRST APPARITION Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! Beware Macduff! Beware the Thane of Fife! Dismiss me. Enough. [He descends.] MACBETH Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks. Thou hast harped my fear aright. But one word more-- FIRST WITCH He will not be commanded. Here's another More potent than the first. [Thunder. Second Apparition, a Bloody Child.] SECOND APPARITION Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth!-- MACBETH Had I three ears, I'd hear thee. SECOND APPARITION Be bloody, bold, and resolute. Laugh to scorn The power of man, for none of woman born Shall harm Macbeth. [He descends.] MACBETH Then live, Macduff; what need I fear of thee? But yet I'll make assurance double sure And take a bond of fate. Thou shalt not live, That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies, And sleep in spite of thunder. [Thunder. Third Apparition, a Child Crowned, with a tree in his hand.] What is this That rises like the issue of a king And wears upon his baby brow the round And top of sovereignty? ALL Listen but speak not to 't. THIRD APPARITION Be lion-mettled, proud, and take no care Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are. Macbeth shall never vanquished be until Great Birnam Wood to high Dunsinane Hill Shall come against him. [He descends.] MACBETH That will never be. Who can impress the forest, bid the tree Unfix his earthbound root? Sweet bodements, good! Rebellious dead, rise never till the Wood Of Birnam rise, and our high-placed Macbeth Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath To time and mortal custom. Yet my heart Throbs to know one thing. Tell me, if your art Can tell so much: shall Banquo's issue ever Reign in this kingdom? ALL Seek to know no more. MACBETH I will be satisfied. Deny me this, And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know! [Cauldron sinks. Hautboys.] Why sinks that cauldron? And what noise is this? FIRST WITCH Show. SECOND WITCH Show. THIRD WITCH Show. ALL Show his eyes and grieve his heart. Come like shadows; so depart. [A show of eight kings, the eighth king with a glass in his hand, and Banquo last.] MACBETH Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo. Down! Thy crown does sear mine eyeballs. And thy hair, Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first. A third is like the former.--Filthy hags, Why do you show me this?--A fourth? Start, eyes! What, will the line stretch out to th' crack of doom? Another yet? A seventh? I'll see no more. And yet the eighth appears who bears a glass Which shows me many more, and some I see That twofold balls and treble scepters carry. Horrible sight! Now I see 'tis true, For the blood-boltered Banquo smiles upon me And points at them for his. [The Apparitions disappear.] What, is this so? FIRST WITCH Ay, sir, all this is so. But why Stands Macbeth thus amazedly? Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites And show the best of our delights. I'll charm the air to give a sound While you perform your antic round, That this great king may kindly say Our duties did his welcome pay. [Music. The Witches dance and vanish.] MACBETH Where are they? Gone? Let this pernicious hour Stand aye accursed in the calendar!-- Come in, without there. [Enter Lennox.] LENNOX What's your Grace's will? MACBETH Saw you the Weird Sisters? LENNOX No, my lord. MACBETH Came they not by you? LENNOX No, indeed, my lord. MACBETH Infected be the air whereon they ride, And damned all those that trust them! I did hear The galloping of horse. Who was 't came by? LENNOX 'Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word Macduff is fled to England. MACBETH Fled to England? LENNOX Ay, my good lord. MACBETH, [aside] Time, thou anticipat'st my dread exploits. The flighty purpose never is o'ertook Unless the deed go with it. From this moment The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand. And even now, To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done: The castle of Macduff I will surprise, Seize upon Fife, give to th' edge o' th' sword His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls That trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool; This deed I'll do before this purpose cool. But no more sights!--Where are these gentlemen? Come bring me where they are. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Macduff's Wife, her Son, and Ross.] LADY MACDUFF What had he done to make him fly the land? ROSS You must have patience, madam. LADY MACDUFF He had none. His flight was madness. When our actions do not, Our fears do make us traitors. ROSS You know not Whether it was his wisdom or his fear. LADY MACDUFF Wisdom? To leave his wife, to leave his babes, His mansion and his titles in a place From whence himself does fly? He loves us not; He wants the natural touch; for the poor wren, The most diminutive of birds, will fight, Her young ones in her nest, against the owl. All is the fear, and nothing is the love, As little is the wisdom, where the flight So runs against all reason. ROSS My dearest coz, I pray you school yourself. But for your husband, He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows The fits o' th' season. I dare not speak much further; But cruel are the times when we are traitors And do not know ourselves; when we hold rumor From what we fear, yet know not what we fear, But float upon a wild and violent sea Each way and move--I take my leave of you. Shall not be long but I'll be here again. Things at the worst will cease or else climb upward To what they were before.--My pretty cousin, Blessing upon you. LADY MACDUFF Fathered he is, and yet he's fatherless. ROSS I am so much a fool, should I stay longer It would be my disgrace and your discomfort. I take my leave at once. [Ross exits.] LADY MACDUFF Sirrah, your father's dead. And what will you do now? How will you live? SON As birds do, mother. LADY MACDUFF What, with worms and flies? SON With what I get, I mean; and so do they. LADY MACDUFF Poor bird, thou 'dst never fear the net nor lime, The pitfall nor the gin. SON Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for. My father is not dead, for all your saying. LADY MACDUFF Yes, he is dead. How wilt thou do for a father? SON Nay, how will you do for a husband? LADY MACDUFF Why, I can buy me twenty at any market. SON Then you'll buy 'em to sell again. LADY MACDUFF Thou speak'st with all thy wit, And yet, i' faith, with wit enough for thee. SON Was my father a traitor, mother? LADY MACDUFF Ay, that he was. SON What is a traitor? LADY MACDUFF Why, one that swears and lies. SON And be all traitors that do so? LADY MACDUFF Every one that does so is a traitor and must be hanged. SON And must they all be hanged that swear and lie? LADY MACDUFF Every one. SON Who must hang them? LADY MACDUFF Why, the honest men. SON Then the liars and swearers are fools, for there are liars and swearers enough to beat the honest men and hang up them. LADY MACDUFF Now God help thee, poor monkey! But how wilt thou do for a father? SON If he were dead, you'd weep for him. If you would not, it were a good sign that I should quickly have a new father. LADY MACDUFF Poor prattler, how thou talk'st! [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER Bless you, fair dame. I am not to you known, Though in your state of honor I am perfect. I doubt some danger does approach you nearly. If you will take a homely man's advice, Be not found here. Hence with your little ones! To fright you thus methinks I am too savage; To do worse to you were fell cruelty, Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve you! I dare abide no longer. [Messenger exits.] LADY MACDUFF Whither should I fly? I have done no harm. But I remember now I am in this earthly world, where to do harm Is often laudable, to do good sometime Accounted dangerous folly. Why then, alas, Do I put up that womanly defense To say I have done no harm? [Enter Murderers.] What are these faces? MURDERER Where is your husband? LADY MACDUFF I hope in no place so unsanctified Where such as thou mayst find him. MURDERER He's a traitor. SON Thou liest, thou shag-eared villain! MURDERER What, you egg? [Stabbing him.] Young fry of treachery! SON He has killed me, mother. Run away, I pray you. [Lady Macduff exits, crying "Murder!" followed by the Murderers bearing the Son's body.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Malcolm and Macduff.] MALCOLM Let us seek out some desolate shade and there Weep our sad bosoms empty. MACDUFF Let us rather Hold fast the mortal sword and, like good men, Bestride our downfall'n birthdom. Each new morn New widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds As if it felt with Scotland, and yelled out Like syllable of dolor. MALCOLM What I believe, I'll wail; What know, believe; and what I can redress, As I shall find the time to friend, I will. What you have spoke, it may be so, perchance. This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues, Was once thought honest. You have loved him well. He hath not touched you yet. I am young, but something You may deserve of him through me, and wisdom To offer up a weak, poor, innocent lamb T' appease an angry god. MACDUFF I am not treacherous. MALCOLM But Macbeth is. A good and virtuous nature may recoil In an imperial charge. But I shall crave your pardon. That which you are, my thoughts cannot transpose. Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell. Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace, Yet grace must still look so. MACDUFF I have lost my hopes. MALCOLM Perchance even there where I did find my doubts. Why in that rawness left you wife and child, Those precious motives, those strong knots of love, Without leave-taking? I pray you, Let not my jealousies be your dishonors, But mine own safeties. You may be rightly just, Whatever I shall think. MACDUFF Bleed, bleed, poor country! Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure, For goodness dare not check thee. Wear thou thy wrongs; The title is affeered.--Fare thee well, lord. I would not be the villain that thou think'st For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp, And the rich East to boot. MALCOLM Be not offended. I speak not as in absolute fear of you. I think our country sinks beneath the yoke. It weeps, it bleeds, and each new day a gash Is added to her wounds. I think withal There would be hands uplifted in my right; And here from gracious England have I offer Of goodly thousands. But, for all this, When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country Shall have more vices than it had before, More suffer, and more sundry ways than ever, By him that shall succeed. MACDUFF What should he be? MALCOLM It is myself I mean, in whom I know All the particulars of vice so grafted That, when they shall be opened, black Macbeth Will seem as pure as snow, and the poor state Esteem him as a lamb, being compared With my confineless harms. MACDUFF Not in the legions Of horrid hell can come a devil more damned In evils to top Macbeth. MALCOLM I grant him bloody, Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful, Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin That has a name. But there's no bottom, none, In my voluptuousness. Your wives, your daughters, Your matrons, and your maids could not fill up The cistern of my lust, and my desire All continent impediments would o'erbear That did oppose my will. Better Macbeth Than such an one to reign. MACDUFF Boundless intemperance In nature is a tyranny. It hath been Th' untimely emptying of the happy throne And fall of many kings. But fear not yet To take upon you what is yours. You may Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty And yet seem cold--the time you may so hoodwink. We have willing dames enough. There cannot be That vulture in you to devour so many As will to greatness dedicate themselves, Finding it so inclined. MALCOLM With this there grows In my most ill-composed affection such A stanchless avarice that, were I king, I should cut off the nobles for their lands, Desire his jewels, and this other's house; And my more-having would be as a sauce To make me hunger more, that I should forge Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal, Destroying them for wealth. MACDUFF This avarice Sticks deeper, grows with more pernicious root Than summer-seeming lust, and it hath been The sword of our slain kings. Yet do not fear. Scotland hath foisons to fill up your will Of your mere own. All these are portable, With other graces weighed. MALCOLM But I have none. The king-becoming graces, As justice, verity, temp'rance, stableness, Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness, Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude, I have no relish of them but abound In the division of each several crime, Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, Uproar the universal peace, confound All unity on earth. MACDUFF O Scotland, Scotland! MALCOLM If such a one be fit to govern, speak. I am as I have spoken. MACDUFF Fit to govern? No, not to live.--O nation miserable, With an untitled tyrant bloody-sceptered, When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again, Since that the truest issue of thy throne By his own interdiction stands accursed And does blaspheme his breed?--Thy royal father Was a most sainted king. The queen that bore thee, Oft'ner upon her knees than on her feet, Died every day she lived. Fare thee well. These evils thou repeat'st upon thyself Hath banished me from Scotland.--O my breast, Thy hope ends here! MALCOLM Macduff, this noble passion, Child of integrity, hath from my soul Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts To thy good truth and honor. Devilish Macbeth By many of these trains hath sought to win me Into his power, and modest wisdom plucks me From overcredulous haste. But God above Deal between thee and me, for even now I put myself to thy direction and Unspeak mine own detraction, here abjure The taints and blames I laid upon myself For strangers to my nature. I am yet Unknown to woman, never was forsworn, Scarcely have coveted what was mine own, At no time broke my faith, would not betray The devil to his fellow, and delight No less in truth than life. My first false speaking Was this upon myself. What I am truly Is thine and my poor country's to command-- Whither indeed, before thy here-approach, Old Siward with ten thousand warlike men, Already at a point, was setting forth. Now we'll together, and the chance of goodness Be like our warranted quarrel. Why are you silent? MACDUFF Such welcome and unwelcome things at once 'Tis hard to reconcile. [Enter a Doctor.] MALCOLM Well, more anon.-- Comes the King forth, I pray you? DOCTOR Ay, sir. There are a crew of wretched souls That stay his cure. Their malady convinces The great assay of art, but at his touch (Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand) They presently amend. MALCOLM I thank you, doctor. [Doctor exits.] MACDUFF What's the disease he means? MALCOLM 'Tis called the evil: A most miraculous work in this good king, Which often since my here-remain in England I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven Himself best knows, but strangely visited people All swoll'n and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye, The mere despair of surgery, he cures, Hanging a golden stamp about their necks, Put on with holy prayers; and, 'tis spoken, To the succeeding royalty he leaves The healing benediction. With this strange virtue, He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy, And sundry blessings hang about his throne That speak him full of grace. [Enter Ross.] MACDUFF See who comes here. MALCOLM My countryman, but yet I know him not. MACDUFF My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither. MALCOLM I know him now.--Good God betimes remove The means that makes us strangers! ROSS Sir, amen. MACDUFF Stands Scotland where it did? ROSS Alas, poor country, Almost afraid to know itself. It cannot Be called our mother, but our grave, where nothing But who knows nothing is once seen to smile; Where sighs and groans and shrieks that rent the air Are made, not marked; where violent sorrow seems A modern ecstasy. The dead man's knell Is there scarce asked for who, and good men's lives Expire before the flowers in their caps, Dying or ere they sicken. MACDUFF O relation too nice and yet too true! MALCOLM What's the newest grief? ROSS That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker. Each minute teems a new one. MACDUFF How does my wife? ROSS Why, well. MACDUFF And all my children? ROSS Well too. MACDUFF The tyrant has not battered at their peace? ROSS No, they were well at peace when I did leave 'em. MACDUFF Be not a niggard of your speech. How goes 't? ROSS When I came hither to transport the tidings Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumor Of many worthy fellows that were out; Which was to my belief witnessed the rather For that I saw the tyrant's power afoot. Now is the time of help. Your eye in Scotland Would create soldiers, make our women fight To doff their dire distresses. MALCOLM Be 't their comfort We are coming thither. Gracious England hath Lent us good Siward and ten thousand men; An older and a better soldier none That Christendom gives out. ROSS Would I could answer This comfort with the like. But I have words That would be howled out in the desert air, Where hearing should not latch them. MACDUFF What concern they-- The general cause, or is it a fee-grief Due to some single breast? ROSS No mind that's honest But in it shares some woe, though the main part Pertains to you alone. MACDUFF If it be mine, Keep it not from me. Quickly let me have it. ROSS Let not your ears despise my tongue forever, Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound That ever yet they heard. MACDUFF Hum! I guess at it. ROSS Your castle is surprised, your wife and babes Savagely slaughtered. To relate the manner Were on the quarry of these murdered deer To add the death of you. MALCOLM Merciful heaven!-- What, man, ne'er pull your hat upon your brows. Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak Whispers the o'erfraught heart and bids it break. MACDUFF My children too? ROSS Wife, children, servants, all that could be found. MACDUFF And I must be from thence? My wife killed too? ROSS I have said. MALCOLM Be comforted. Let's make us med'cines of our great revenge To cure this deadly grief. MACDUFF He has no children. All my pretty ones? Did you say "all"? O hell-kite! All? What, all my pretty chickens and their dam At one fell swoop? MALCOLM Dispute it like a man. MACDUFF I shall do so, But I must also feel it as a man. I cannot but remember such things were That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff, They were all struck for thee! Naught that I am, Not for their own demerits, but for mine, Fell slaughter on their souls. Heaven rest them now. MALCOLM Be this the whetstone of your sword. Let grief Convert to anger. Blunt not the heart; enrage it. MACDUFF O, I could play the woman with mine eyes And braggart with my tongue! But, gentle heavens, Cut short all intermission! Front to front Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself. Within my sword's length set him. If he 'scape, Heaven forgive him too. MALCOLM This tune goes manly. Come, go we to the King. Our power is ready; Our lack is nothing but our leave. Macbeth Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may. The night is long that never finds the day. [They exit.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter a Doctor of Physic and a Waiting-Gentlewoman.] DOCTOR I have two nights watched with you but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walked? GENTLEWOMAN Since his Majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her nightgown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon 't, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep. DOCTOR A great perturbation in nature, to receive at once the benefit of sleep and do the effects of watching. In this slumb'ry agitation, besides her walking and other actual performances, what at any time have you heard her say? GENTLEWOMAN That, sir, which I will not report after her. DOCTOR You may to me, and 'tis most meet you should. GENTLEWOMAN Neither to you nor anyone, having no witness to confirm my speech. [Enter Lady Macbeth with a taper.] Lo you, here she comes. This is her very guise and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close. DOCTOR How came she by that light? GENTLEWOMAN Why, it stood by her. She has light by her continually. 'Tis her command. DOCTOR You see her eyes are open. GENTLEWOMAN Ay, but their sense are shut. DOCTOR What is it she does now? Look how she rubs her hands. GENTLEWOMAN It is an accustomed action with her to seem thus washing her hands. I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour. LADY MACBETH Yet here's a spot. DOCTOR Hark, she speaks. I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly. LADY MACBETH Out, damned spot, out, I say! One. Two. Why then, 'tis time to do 't. Hell is murky. Fie, my lord, fie, a soldier and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account? Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? DOCTOR Do you mark that? LADY MACBETH The Thane of Fife had a wife. Where is she now? What, will these hands ne'er be clean? No more o' that, my lord, no more o' that. You mar all with this starting. DOCTOR Go to, go to. You have known what you should not. GENTLEWOMAN She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that. Heaven knows what she has known. LADY MACBETH Here's the smell of the blood still. All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. O, O, O! DOCTOR What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charged. GENTLEWOMAN I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the dignity of the whole body. DOCTOR Well, well, well. GENTLEWOMAN Pray God it be, sir. DOCTOR This disease is beyond my practice. Yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep, who have died holily in their beds. LADY MACBETH Wash your hands. Put on your nightgown. Look not so pale. I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come out on 's grave. DOCTOR Even so? LADY MACBETH To bed, to bed. There's knocking at the gate. Come, come, come, come. Give me your hand. What's done cannot be undone. To bed, to bed, to bed. [Lady Macbeth exits.] DOCTOR Will she go now to bed? GENTLEWOMAN Directly. DOCTOR Foul whisp'rings are abroad. Unnatural deeds Do breed unnatural troubles. Infected minds To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets. More needs she the divine than the physician. God, God forgive us all. Look after her. Remove from her the means of all annoyance And still keep eyes upon her. So, good night. My mind she has mated, and amazed my sight. I think but dare not speak. GENTLEWOMAN Good night, good doctor. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Drum and Colors. Enter Menteith, Caithness, Angus, Lennox, and Soldiers.] MENTEITH The English power is near, led on by Malcolm, His uncle Siward, and the good Macduff. Revenges burn in them, for their dear causes Would to the bleeding and the grim alarm Excite the mortified man. ANGUS Near Birnam Wood Shall we well meet them. That way are they coming. CAITHNESS Who knows if Donalbain be with his brother? LENNOX For certain, sir, he is not. I have a file Of all the gentry. There is Siward's son And many unrough youths that even now Protest their first of manhood. MENTEITH What does the tyrant? CAITHNESS Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies. Some say he's mad; others that lesser hate him Do call it valiant fury. But for certain He cannot buckle his distempered cause Within the belt of rule. ANGUS Now does he feel His secret murders sticking on his hands. Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach. Those he commands move only in command, Nothing in love. Now does he feel his title Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe Upon a dwarfish thief. MENTEITH Who, then, shall blame His pestered senses to recoil and start When all that is within him does condemn Itself for being there? CAITHNESS Well, march we on To give obedience where 'tis truly owed. Meet we the med'cine of the sickly weal, And with him pour we in our country's purge Each drop of us. LENNOX Or so much as it needs To dew the sovereign flower and drown the weeds. Make we our march towards Birnam. [They exit marching.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Macbeth, the Doctor, and Attendants.] MACBETH Bring me no more reports. Let them fly all. Till Birnam Wood remove to Dunsinane I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm? Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know All mortal consequences have pronounced me thus: "Fear not, Macbeth. No man that's born of woman Shall e'er have power upon thee." Then fly, false thanes, And mingle with the English epicures. The mind I sway by and the heart I bear Shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear. [Enter Servant.] The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon! Where got'st thou that goose-look? SERVANT There is ten thousand-- MACBETH Geese, villain? SERVANT Soldiers, sir. MACBETH Go prick thy face and over-red thy fear, Thou lily-livered boy. What soldiers, patch? Death of thy soul! Those linen cheeks of thine Are counselors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face? SERVANT The English force, so please you. MACBETH Take thy face hence. [Servant exits.] Seyton!--I am sick at heart When I behold--Seyton, I say!--This push Will cheer me ever or disseat me now. I have lived long enough. My way of life Is fall'n into the sere, the yellow leaf, And that which should accompany old age, As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have, but in their stead Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honor, breath Which the poor heart would fain deny and dare not.-- Seyton! [Enter Seyton.] SEYTON What's your gracious pleasure? MACBETH What news more? SEYTON All is confirmed, my lord, which was reported. MACBETH I'll fight till from my bones my flesh be hacked. Give me my armor. SEYTON 'Tis not needed yet. MACBETH I'll put it on. Send out more horses. Skirr the country round. Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine armor.-- How does your patient, doctor? DOCTOR Not so sick, my lord, As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies That keep her from her rest. MACBETH Cure her of that. Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain, And with some sweet oblivious antidote Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff Which weighs upon the heart? DOCTOR Therein the patient Must minister to himself. MACBETH Throw physic to the dogs. I'll none of it.-- Come, put mine armor on. Give me my staff. [Attendants begin to arm him.] Seyton, send out.--Doctor, the thanes fly from me.-- Come, sir, dispatch.--If thou couldst, doctor, cast The water of my land, find her disease, And purge it to a sound and pristine health, I would applaud thee to the very echo That should applaud again.--Pull 't off, I say.-- What rhubarb, senna, or what purgative drug Would scour these English hence? Hear'st thou of them? DOCTOR Ay, my good lord. Your royal preparation Makes us hear something. MACBETH Bring it after me.-- I will not be afraid of death and bane Till Birnam Forest come to Dunsinane. DOCTOR, [aside] Were I from Dunsinane away and clear, Profit again should hardly draw me here. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Drum and Colors. Enter Malcolm, Siward, Macduff, Siward's son, Menteith, Caithness, Angus, and Soldiers, marching.] MALCOLM Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand That chambers will be safe. MENTEITH We doubt it nothing. SIWARD What wood is this before us? MENTEITH The Wood of Birnam. MALCOLM Let every soldier hew him down a bough And bear 't before him. Thereby shall we shadow The numbers of our host and make discovery Err in report of us. SOLDIER It shall be done. SIWARD We learn no other but the confident tyrant Keeps still in Dunsinane and will endure Our setting down before 't. MALCOLM 'Tis his main hope; For, where there is advantage to be given, Both more and less have given him the revolt, And none serve with him but constrained things Whose hearts are absent too. MACDUFF Let our just censures Attend the true event, and put we on Industrious soldiership. SIWARD The time approaches That will with due decision make us know What we shall say we have and what we owe. Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate, But certain issue strokes must arbitrate; Towards which, advance the war. [They exit marching.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Macbeth, Seyton, and Soldiers, with Drum and Colors.] MACBETH Hang out our banners on the outward walls. The cry is still "They come!" Our castle's strength Will laugh a siege to scorn. Here let them lie Till famine and the ague eat them up. Were they not forced with those that should be ours, We might have met them dareful, beard to beard, And beat them backward home. [A cry within of women.] What is that noise? SEYTON It is the cry of women, my good lord. [He exits.] MACBETH I have almost forgot the taste of fears. The time has been my senses would have cooled To hear a night-shriek, and my fell of hair Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir As life were in 't. I have supped full with horrors. Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, Cannot once start me. [Enter Seyton.] Wherefore was that cry? SEYTON The Queen, my lord, is dead. MACBETH She should have died hereafter. There would have been a time for such a word. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. [Enter a Messenger.] Thou com'st to use thy tongue: thy story quickly. MESSENGER Gracious my lord, I should report that which I say I saw, But know not how to do 't. MACBETH Well, say, sir. MESSENGER As I did stand my watch upon the hill, I looked toward Birnam, and anon methought The Wood began to move. MACBETH Liar and slave! MESSENGER Let me endure your wrath if 't be not so. Within this three mile may you see it coming. I say, a moving grove. MACBETH If thou speak'st false, Upon the next tree shall thou hang alive Till famine cling thee. If thy speech be sooth, I care not if thou dost for me as much.-- I pull in resolution and begin To doubt th' equivocation of the fiend, That lies like truth. "Fear not till Birnam Wood Do come to Dunsinane," and now a wood Comes toward Dunsinane.--Arm, arm, and out!-- If this which he avouches does appear, There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here. I 'gin to be aweary of the sun And wish th' estate o' th' world were now undone.-- Ring the alarum bell!--Blow wind, come wrack, At least we'll die with harness on our back. [They exit.] Scene 6 ======= [Drum and Colors. Enter Malcolm, Siward, Macduff, and their army, with boughs.] MALCOLM Now near enough. Your leafy screens throw down And show like those you are.--You, worthy uncle, Shall with my cousin, your right noble son, Lead our first battle. Worthy Macduff and we Shall take upon 's what else remains to do, According to our order. SIWARD Fare you well. Do we but find the tyrant's power tonight, Let us be beaten if we cannot fight. MACDUFF Make all our trumpets speak; give them all breath, Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death. [They exit.] [Alarums continued.] Scene 7 ======= [Enter Macbeth.] MACBETH They have tied me to a stake. I cannot fly, But, bear-like, I must fight the course. What's he That was not born of woman? Such a one Am I to fear, or none. [Enter young Siward.] YOUNG SIWARD What is thy name? MACBETH Thou 'lt be afraid to hear it. YOUNG SIWARD No, though thou call'st thyself a hotter name Than any is in hell. MACBETH My name's Macbeth. YOUNG SIWARD The devil himself could not pronounce a title More hateful to mine ear. MACBETH No, nor more fearful. YOUNG SIWARD Thou liest, abhorred tyrant. With my sword I'll prove the lie thou speak'st. [They fight, and young Siward is slain.] MACBETH Thou wast born of woman. But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, Brandished by man that's of a woman born. [He exits.] [Alarums. Enter Macduff.] MACDUFF That way the noise is. Tyrant, show thy face! If thou beest slain, and with no stroke of mine, My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still. I cannot strike at wretched kerns, whose arms Are hired to bear their staves. Either thou, Macbeth, Or else my sword with an unbattered edge I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be; By this great clatter, one of greatest note Seems bruited. Let me find him, Fortune, And more I beg not. [He exits. Alarums.] [Enter Malcolm and Siward.] SIWARD This way, my lord. The castle's gently rendered. The tyrant's people on both sides do fight, The noble thanes do bravely in the war, The day almost itself professes yours, And little is to do. MALCOLM We have met with foes That strike beside us. SIWARD Enter, sir, the castle. [They exit. Alarum.] Scene 8 ======= [Enter Macbeth.] MACBETH Why should I play the Roman fool and die On mine own sword? Whiles I see lives, the gashes Do better upon them. [Enter Macduff.] MACDUFF Turn, hellhound, turn! MACBETH Of all men else I have avoided thee. But get thee back. My soul is too much charged With blood of thine already. MACDUFF I have no words; My voice is in my sword, thou bloodier villain Than terms can give thee out. [Fight. Alarum.] MACBETH Thou losest labor. As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air With thy keen sword impress as make me bleed. Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests; I bear a charmed life, which must not yield To one of woman born. MACDUFF Despair thy charm, And let the angel whom thou still hast served Tell thee Macduff was from his mother's womb Untimely ripped. MACBETH Accursed be that tongue that tells me so, For it hath cowed my better part of man! And be these juggling fiends no more believed That palter with us in a double sense, That keep the word of promise to our ear And break it to our hope. I'll not fight with thee. MACDUFF Then yield thee, coward, And live to be the show and gaze o' th' time. We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are, Painted upon a pole, and underwrit "Here may you see the tyrant." MACBETH I will not yield To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet And to be baited with the rabble's curse. Though Birnam Wood be come to Dunsinane And thou opposed, being of no woman born, Yet I will try the last. Before my body I throw my warlike shield. Lay on, Macduff, And damned be him that first cries "Hold! Enough!" [They exit fighting. Alarums.] [They enter fighting, and Macbeth is slain. Macduff exits carrying off Macbeth's body. Retreat and flourish. Enter, with Drum and Colors, Malcolm, Siward, Ross, Thanes, and Soldiers.] MALCOLM I would the friends we miss were safe arrived. SIWARD Some must go off; and yet by these I see So great a day as this is cheaply bought. MALCOLM Macduff is missing, and your noble son. ROSS Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt. He only lived but till he was a man, The which no sooner had his prowess confirmed In the unshrinking station where he fought, But like a man he died. SIWARD Then he is dead? ROSS Ay, and brought off the field. Your cause of sorrow Must not be measured by his worth, for then It hath no end. SIWARD Had he his hurts before? ROSS Ay, on the front. SIWARD Why then, God's soldier be he! Had I as many sons as I have hairs, I would not wish them to a fairer death; And so his knell is knolled. MALCOLM He's worth more sorrow, and that I'll spend for him. SIWARD He's worth no more. They say he parted well and paid his score, And so, God be with him. Here comes newer comfort. [Enter Macduff with Macbeth's head.] MACDUFF Hail, King! for so thou art. Behold where stands Th' usurper's cursed head. The time is free. I see thee compassed with thy kingdom's pearl, That speak my salutation in their minds, Whose voices I desire aloud with mine. Hail, King of Scotland! ALL Hail, King of Scotland! [Flourish.] MALCOLM We shall not spend a large expense of time Before we reckon with your several loves And make us even with you. My thanes and kinsmen, Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland In such an honor named. What's more to do, Which would be planted newly with the time, As calling home our exiled friends abroad That fled the snares of watchful tyranny, Producing forth the cruel ministers Of this dead butcher and his fiend-like queen (Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands, Took off her life)--this, and what needful else That calls upon us, by the grace of grace, We will perform in measure, time, and place. So thanks to all at once and to each one, Whom we invite to see us crowned at Scone. [Flourish. All exit.]

Measure for Measure by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== DUKE of Vienna, later called Friar Lodowick ESCALUS, a judge PROVOST ELBOW, a constable ABHORSON, an executioner A JUSTICE VARRIUS, friend to the Duke ANGELO, deputy to the Duke MARIANA, betrothed to Angelo BOY singer SERVANT to Angelo MESSENGER from Angelo ISABELLA, a novice in the Order of Saint Clare FRANCISCA, a nun CLAUDIO, brother to Isabella JULIET, betrothed to Claudio LUCIO, friend to Claudio TWO GENTLEMEN, associates of Lucio FRIAR THOMAS FRIAR PETER MISTRESS OVERDONE, a bawd POMPEY the Clown, her servant FROTH, Pompey's customer BARNARDINE, a prisoner Lords, Officers, Citizens, Servants, and Attendants ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Duke, Escalus, Lords, and Attendants.] DUKE Escalus. ESCALUS My lord. DUKE Of government the properties to unfold Would seem in me t' affect speech and discourse, Since I am put to know that your own science Exceeds, in that, the lists of all advice My strength can give you. Then no more remains But that, to your sufficiency, as your worth is able, And let them work. The nature of our people, Our city's institutions, and the terms For common justice, you're as pregnant in As art and practice hath enriched any That we remember. There is our commission, [He hands Escalus a paper.] From which we would not have you warp.--Call hither, I say, bid come before us Angelo. [An Attendant exits.] What figure of us think you he will bear? For you must know, we have with special soul Elected him our absence to supply, Lent him our terror, dressed him with our love, And given his deputation all the organs Of our own power. What think you of it? ESCALUS If any in Vienna be of worth To undergo such ample grace and honor, It is Lord Angelo. [Enter Angelo.] DUKE Look where he comes. ANGELO Always obedient to your Grace's will, I come to know your pleasure. DUKE Angelo, There is a kind of character in thy life That to th' observer doth thy history Fully unfold. Thyself and thy belongings Are not thine own so proper as to waste Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee. Heaven doth with us as we with torches do, Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touched But to fine issues, nor nature never lends The smallest scruple of her excellence But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines Herself the glory of a creditor, Both thanks and use. But I do bend my speech To one that can my part in him advertise. Hold, therefore, Angelo. In our remove be thou at full ourself. Mortality and mercy in Vienna Live in thy tongue and heart. Old Escalus, Though first in question, is thy secondary. Take thy commission. [He hands Angelo a paper.] ANGELO Now, good my lord, Let there be some more test made of my mettle Before so noble and so great a figure Be stamped upon it. DUKE No more evasion. We have with a leavened and prepared choice Proceeded to you. Therefore, take your honors. Our haste from hence is of so quick condition That it prefers itself and leaves unquestioned Matters of needful value. We shall write to you, As time and our concernings shall importune, How it goes with us, and do look to know What doth befall you here. So fare you well. To th' hopeful execution do I leave you Of your commissions. ANGELO Yet give leave, my lord, That we may bring you something on the way. DUKE My haste may not admit it. Nor need you, on mine honor, have to do With any scruple. Your scope is as mine own, So to enforce or qualify the laws As to your soul seems good. Give me your hand. I'll privily away. I love the people, But do not like to stage me to their eyes. Though it do well, I do not relish well Their loud applause and aves vehement, Nor do I think the man of safe discretion That does affect it. Once more, fare you well. ANGELO The heavens give safety to your purposes. ESCALUS Lead forth and bring you back in happiness. DUKE I thank you. Fare you well. [He exits.] ESCALUS, [to Angelo] I shall desire you, sir, to give me leave To have free speech with you; and it concerns me To look into the bottom of my place. A power I have, but of what strength and nature I am not yet instructed. ANGELO 'Tis so with me. Let us withdraw together, And we may soon our satisfaction have Touching that point. ESCALUS I'll wait upon your Honor. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Lucio and two other Gentlemen.] LUCIO If the Duke, with the other dukes, come not to composition with the King of Hungary, why then all the dukes fall upon the King. FIRST GENTLEMAN Heaven grant us its peace, but not the King of Hungary's! SECOND GENTLEMAN Amen. LUCIO Thou conclud'st like the sanctimonious pirate that went to sea with the ten commandments but scraped one out of the table. SECOND GENTLEMAN "Thou shalt not steal"? LUCIO Ay, that he razed. FIRST GENTLEMAN Why, 'twas a commandment to command the Captain and all the rest from their functions! They put forth to steal. There's not a soldier of us all that in the thanksgiving before meat do relish the petition well that prays for peace. SECOND GENTLEMAN I never heard any soldier dislike it. LUCIO I believe thee, for I think thou never wast where grace was said. SECOND GENTLEMAN No? A dozen times at least. FIRST GENTLEMAN What? In meter? LUCIO In any proportion or in any language. FIRST GENTLEMAN I think, or in any religion. LUCIO Ay, why not? Grace is grace, despite of all controversy; as, for example, thou thyself art a wicked villain, despite of all grace. FIRST GENTLEMAN Well, there went but a pair of shears between us. LUCIO I grant, as there may between the lists and the velvet. Thou art the list. FIRST GENTLEMAN And thou the velvet. Thou art good velvet; thou 'rt a three-piled piece, I warrant thee. I had as lief be a list of an English kersey as be piled, as thou art piled, for a French velvet. Do I speak feelingly now? LUCIO I think thou dost, and indeed with most painful feeling of thy speech. I will, out of thine own confession, learn to begin thy health, but, whilst I live, forget to drink after thee. FIRST GENTLEMAN I think I have done myself wrong, have I not? SECOND GENTLEMAN Yes, that thou hast, whether thou art tainted or free. [Enter Mistress Overdone, a Bawd.] LUCIO Behold, behold, where Madam Mitigation comes! I have purchased as many diseases under her roof as come to-- SECOND GENTLEMAN To what, I pray? LUCIO Judge. SECOND GENTLEMAN To three thousand dolors a year. FIRST GENTLEMAN Ay, and more. LUCIO A French crown more. FIRST GENTLEMAN Thou art always figuring diseases in me, but thou art full of error. I am sound. LUCIO Nay, not, as one would say, healthy, but so sound as things that are hollow. Thy bones are hollow. Impiety has made a feast of thee. FIRST GENTLEMAN, [to Bawd] How now, which of your hips has the most profound sciatica? BAWD Well, well. There's one yonder arrested and carried to prison was worth five thousand of you all. SECOND GENTLEMAN Who's that, I pray thee? BAWD Marry, sir, that's Claudio, Signior Claudio. FIRST GENTLEMAN Claudio to prison? 'Tis not so. BAWD Nay, but I know 'tis so. I saw him arrested, saw him carried away; and, which is more, within these three days his head to be chopped off. LUCIO But, after all this fooling, I would not have it so! Art thou sure of this? BAWD I am too sure of it. And it is for getting Madam Julietta with child. LUCIO Believe me, this may be. He promised to meet me two hours since, and he was ever precise in promise-keeping. SECOND GENTLEMAN Besides, you know, it draws something near to the speech we had to such a purpose. FIRST GENTLEMAN But most of all agreeing with the proclamation. LUCIO Away. Let's go learn the truth of it. [Lucio and Gentlemen exit.] BAWD Thus, what with the war, what with the sweat, what with the gallows, and what with poverty, I am custom-shrunk. [Enter Pompey.] How now? What's the news with you? POMPEY Yonder man is carried to prison. BAWD Well, what has he done? POMPEY A woman. BAWD But what's his offense? POMPEY Groping for trouts in a peculiar river. BAWD What? Is there a maid with child by him? POMPEY No, but there's a woman with maid by him. You have not heard of the proclamation, have you? BAWD What proclamation, man? POMPEY All houses in the suburbs of Vienna must be plucked down. BAWD And what shall become of those in the city? POMPEY They shall stand for seed. They had gone down too, but that a wise burgher put in for them. BAWD But shall all our houses of resort in the suburbs be pulled down? POMPEY To the ground, mistress. BAWD Why, here's a change indeed in the commonwealth! What shall become of me? POMPEY Come, fear not you. Good counselors lack no clients. Though you change your place, you need not change your trade. I'll be your tapster still. Courage. There will be pity taken on you. You that have worn your eyes almost out in the service, you will be considered. [Enter Provost, Claudio, Juliet, and Officers.] BAWD What's to do here, Thomas Tapster? Let's withdraw. POMPEY Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the Provost to prison. And there's Madam Juliet. [Bawd and Pompey exit.] CLAUDIO, [to Provost] Fellow, why dost thou show me thus to th' world? Bear me to prison, where I am committed. PROVOST I do it not in evil disposition, But from Lord Angelo by special charge. CLAUDIO Thus can the demigod Authority Make us pay down for our offense, by weight, The words of heaven: on whom it will, it will; On whom it will not, so; yet still 'tis just. [Enter Lucio and Second Gentleman.] LUCIO Why, how now, Claudio? Whence comes this restraint? CLAUDIO From too much liberty, my Lucio, liberty. As surfeit is the father of much fast, So every scope by the immoderate use Turns to restraint. Our natures do pursue, Like rats that raven down their proper bane, A thirsty evil, and when we drink, we die. LUCIO If I could speak so wisely under an arrest, I would send for certain of my creditors. And yet, to say the truth, I had as lief have the foppery of freedom as the mortality of imprisonment. What's thy offense, Claudio? CLAUDIO What but to speak of would offend again. LUCIO What, is 't murder? CLAUDIO No. LUCIO Lechery? CLAUDIO Call it so. PROVOST Away, sir. You must go. CLAUDIO One word, good friend.--Lucio, a word with you. LUCIO A hundred, if they'll do you any good. Is lechery so looked after? CLAUDIO Thus stands it with me: upon a true contract I got possession of Julietta's bed. You know the lady. She is fast my wife, Save that we do the denunciation lack Of outward order. This we came not to Only for propagation of a dower Remaining in the coffer of her friends, From whom we thought it meet to hide our love Till time had made them for us. But it chances The stealth of our most mutual entertainment With character too gross is writ on Juliet. LUCIO With child, perhaps? CLAUDIO Unhappily, even so. And the new deputy now for the Duke-- Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newness, Or whether that the body public be A horse whereon the governor doth ride, Who, newly in the seat, that it may know He can command, lets it straight feel the spur; Whether the tyranny be in his place Or in his eminence that fills it up, I stagger in--but this new governor Awakes me all the enrolled penalties Which have, like unscoured armor, hung by th' wall So long that nineteen zodiacs have gone round, And none of them been worn; and for a name Now puts the drowsy and neglected act Freshly on me. 'Tis surely for a name. LUCIO I warrant it is. And thy head stands so tickle on thy shoulders that a milkmaid, if she be in love, may sigh it off. Send after the Duke and appeal to him. CLAUDIO I have done so, but he's not to be found. I prithee, Lucio, do me this kind service: This day my sister should the cloister enter And there receive her approbation. Acquaint her with the danger of my state; Implore her, in my voice, that she make friends To the strict deputy; bid herself assay him. I have great hope in that, for in her youth There is a prone and speechless dialect Such as move men. Besides, she hath prosperous art When she will play with reason and discourse, And well she can persuade. LUCIO I pray she may, as well for the encouragement of the like, which else would stand under grievous imposition, as for the enjoying of thy life, who I would be sorry should be thus foolishly lost at a game of tick-tack. I'll to her. CLAUDIO I thank you, good friend Lucio. LUCIO Within two hours. CLAUDIO Come, officer, away. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Duke and Friar Thomas.] DUKE No, holy father, throw away that thought. Believe not that the dribbling dart of love Can pierce a complete bosom. Why I desire thee To give me secret harbor hath a purpose More grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends Of burning youth. FRIAR THOMAS May your Grace speak of it? DUKE My holy sir, none better knows than you How I have ever loved the life removed, And held in idle price to haunt assemblies Where youth and cost witless bravery keeps. I have delivered to Lord Angelo, A man of stricture and firm abstinence, My absolute power and place here in Vienna, And he supposes me traveled to Poland, For so I have strewed it in the common ear, And so it is received. Now, pious sir, You will demand of me why I do this. FRIAR THOMAS Gladly, my lord. DUKE We have strict statutes and most biting laws, The needful bits and curbs to headstrong weeds, Which for this fourteen years we have let slip, Even like an o'ergrown lion in a cave That goes not out to prey. Now, as fond fathers, Having bound up the threat'ning twigs of birch Only to stick it in their children's sight For terror, not to use--in time the rod More mocked than feared--so our decrees, Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead, And liberty plucks justice by the nose, The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart Goes all decorum. FRIAR THOMAS It rested in your Grace To unloose this tied-up justice when you pleased, And it in you more dreadful would have seemed Than in Lord Angelo. DUKE I do fear, too dreadful. Sith 'twas my fault to give the people scope, 'Twould be my tyranny to strike and gall them For what I bid them do; for we bid this be done When evil deeds have their permissive pass And not the punishment. Therefore, indeed, my father, I have on Angelo imposed the office, Who may in th' ambush of my name strike home, And yet my nature never in the fight To do in slander. And to behold his sway I will, as 'twere a brother of your order, Visit both prince and people. Therefore I prithee Supply me with the habit, and instruct me How I may formally in person bear Like a true friar. More reasons for this action At our more leisure shall I render you. Only this one: Lord Angelo is precise, Stands at a guard with envy, scarce confesses That his blood flows or that his appetite Is more to bread than stone. Hence shall we see, If power change purpose, what our seemers be. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Isabella and Francisca, a Nun.] ISABELLA And have you nuns no farther privileges? NUN Are not these large enough? ISABELLA Yes, truly. I speak not as desiring more, But rather wishing a more strict restraint Upon the sisterhood, the votarists of Saint Clare. LUCIO, [within] Ho, peace be in this place! ISABELLA Who's that which calls? NUN It is a man's voice. Gentle Isabella, Turn you the key and know his business of him. You may; I may not. You are yet unsworn. When you have vowed, you must not speak with men But in the presence of the Prioress. Then, if you speak, you must not show your face; Or if you show your face, you must not speak. He calls again. I pray you answer him. ISABELLA Peace and prosperity! Who is 't that calls? [Enter Lucio.] LUCIO Hail, virgin, if you be, as those cheek-roses Proclaim you are no less. Can you so stead me As bring me to the sight of Isabella, A novice of this place and the fair sister To her unhappy brother, Claudio? ISABELLA Why "her unhappy brother"? Let me ask, The rather for I now must make you know I am that Isabella, and his sister. LUCIO Gentle and fair, your brother kindly greets you. Not to be weary with you, he's in prison. ISABELLA Woe me, for what? LUCIO For that which, if myself might be his judge, He should receive his punishment in thanks: He hath got his friend with child. ISABELLA Sir, make me not your story. LUCIO 'Tis true. I would not, though 'tis my familiar sin With maids to seem the lapwing and to jest, Tongue far from heart, play with all virgins so. I hold you as a thing enskied and sainted, By your renouncement an immortal spirit, And to be talked with in sincerity As with a saint. ISABELLA You do blaspheme the good in mocking me. LUCIO Do not believe it. Fewness and truth, 'tis thus: Your brother and his lover have embraced; As those that feed grow full, as blossoming time That from the seedness the bare fallow brings To teeming foison, even so her plenteous womb Expresseth his full tilth and husbandry. ISABELLA Someone with child by him? My cousin Juliet? LUCIO Is she your cousin? ISABELLA Adoptedly, as schoolmaids change their names By vain though apt affection. LUCIO She it is. ISABELLA O, let him marry her! LUCIO This is the point. The Duke is very strangely gone from hence; Bore many gentlemen, myself being one, In hand, and hope of action; but we do learn, By those that know the very nerves of state, His givings-out were of an infinite distance From his true-meant design. Upon his place, And with full line of his authority, Governs Lord Angelo, a man whose blood Is very snow-broth; one who never feels The wanton stings and motions of the sense, But doth rebate and blunt his natural edge With profits of the mind: study and fast. He--to give fear to use and liberty, Which have for long run by the hideous law As mice by lions--hath picked out an act Under whose heavy sense your brother's life Falls into forfeit. He arrests him on it, And follows close the rigor of the statute To make him an example. All hope is gone Unless you have the grace by your fair prayer To soften Angelo. And that's my pith of business 'Twixt you and your poor brother. ISABELLA Doth he so Seek his life? LUCIO Has censured him already, And, as I hear, the Provost hath a warrant For 's execution. ISABELLA Alas, what poor ability's in me To do him good? LUCIO Assay the power you have. ISABELLA My power? Alas, I doubt-- LUCIO Our doubts are traitors And makes us lose the good we oft might win By fearing to attempt. Go to Lord Angelo And let him learn to know, when maidens sue Men give like gods; but when they weep and kneel, All their petitions are as freely theirs As they themselves would owe them. ISABELLA I'll see what I can do. LUCIO But speedily! ISABELLA I will about it straight, No longer staying but to give the Mother Notice of my affair. I humbly thank you. Commend me to my brother. Soon at night I'll send him certain word of my success. LUCIO I take my leave of you. ISABELLA Good sir, adieu. [They exit.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Angelo, Escalus, Servants, and a Justice.] ANGELO We must not make a scarecrow of the law, Setting it up to fear the birds of prey, And let it keep one shape till custom make it Their perch and not their terror. ESCALUS Ay, but yet Let us be keen and rather cut a little Than fall and bruise to death. Alas, this gentleman Whom I would save had a most noble father. Let but your Honor know, Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue, That, in the working of your own affections, Had time cohered with place, or place with wishing, Or that the resolute acting of your blood Could have attained th' effect of your own purpose, Whether you had not sometime in your life Erred in this point which now you censure him, And pulled the law upon you. ANGELO 'Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus, Another thing to fall. I not deny The jury passing on the prisoner's life May in the sworn twelve have a thief or two Guiltier than him they try. What's open made to justice, That justice seizes. What knows the laws That thieves do pass on thieves? 'Tis very pregnant, The jewel that we find, we stoop and take 't Because we see it; but what we do not see, We tread upon and never think of it. You may not so extenuate his offense For I have had such faults; but rather tell me, When I that censure him do so offend, Let mine own judgment pattern out my death, And nothing come in partial. Sir, he must die. [Enter Provost.] ESCALUS Be it as your wisdom will. ANGELO Where is the Provost? PROVOST Here, if it like your Honor. ANGELO See that Claudio Be executed by nine tomorrow morning. Bring him his confessor, let him be prepared, For that's the utmost of his pilgrimage. [Provost exits.] ESCALUS Well, heaven forgive him and forgive us all. Some rise by sin and some by virtue fall. Some run from brakes of ice and answer none, And some condemned for a fault alone. [Enter Elbow and Officers, with Froth and Pompey.] ELBOW, [to Officers] Come, bring them away. If these be good people in a commonweal that do nothing but use their abuses in common houses, I know no law. Bring them away. ANGELO How now, sir, what's your name? And what's the matter? ELBOW If it please your Honor, I am the poor duke's constable, and my name is Elbow. I do lean upon justice, sir, and do bring in here before your good Honor two notorious benefactors. ANGELO Benefactors? Well, what benefactors are they? Are they not malefactors? ELBOW If it please your Honor, I know not well what they are, but precise villains they are, that I am sure of, and void of all profanation in the world that good Christians ought to have. ESCALUS, [to Angelo] This comes off well. Here's a wise officer. ANGELO, [to Elbow] Go to. What quality are they of? Elbow is your name? Why dost thou not speak, Elbow? POMPEY He cannot, sir. He's out at elbow. ANGELO What are you, sir? ELBOW He, sir? A tapster, sir, parcel bawd; one that serves a bad woman, whose house, sir, was, as they say, plucked down in the suburbs, and now she professes a hothouse, which I think is a very ill house too. ESCALUS How know you that? ELBOW My wife, sir, whom I detest before heaven and your Honor-- ESCALUS How? Thy wife? ELBOW Ay, sir, whom I thank heaven is an honest woman-- ESCALUS Dost thou detest her therefore? ELBOW I say, sir, I will detest myself also, as well as she, that this house, if it be not a bawd's house, it is pity of her life, for it is a naughty house. ESCALUS How dost thou know that, constable? ELBOW Marry, sir, by my wife, who, if she had been a woman cardinally given, might have been accused in fornication, adultery, and all uncleanliness there. ESCALUS By the woman's means? ELBOW Ay, sir, by Mistress Overdone's means; but as she spit in his face, so she defied him. POMPEY, [to Escalus] Sir, if it please your Honor, this is not so. ELBOW Prove it before these varlets here, thou honorable man, prove it. ESCALUS, [to Angelo] Do you hear how he misplaces? POMPEY Sir, she came in great with child, and longing, saving your Honor's reverence, for stewed prunes. Sir, we had but two in the house, which at that very distant time stood, as it were, in a fruit dish, a dish of some threepence; your Honors have seen such dishes; they are not china dishes, but very good dishes-- ESCALUS Go to, go to. No matter for the dish, sir. POMPEY No, indeed, sir, not of a pin; you are therein in the right. But to the point: as I say, this Mistress Elbow, being, as I say, with child, and being great-bellied, and longing, as I said, for prunes; and having but two in the dish, as I said, Master Froth here, this very man, having eaten the rest, as I said, and, as I say, paying for them very honestly--for, as you know, Master Froth, I could not give you threepence again-- FROTH No, indeed. POMPEY Very well. You being then, if you be remembered, cracking the stones of the foresaid prunes-- FROTH Ay, so I did indeed. POMPEY Why, very well. I telling you then, if you be remembered, that such a one and such a one were past cure of the thing you wot of, unless they kept very good diet, as I told you-- FROTH All this is true. POMPEY Why, very well then-- ESCALUS Come, you are a tedious fool. To the purpose: what was done to Elbow's wife that he hath cause to complain of? Come me to what was done to her. POMPEY Sir, your Honor cannot come to that yet. ESCALUS No, sir, nor I mean it not. POMPEY Sir, but you shall come to it, by your Honor's leave. And I beseech you, look into Master Froth here, sir, a man of fourscore pound a year, whose father died at Hallowmas--was 't not at Hallowmas, Master Froth? FROTH All-hallond Eve. POMPEY Why, very well. I hope here be truths.--He, sir, sitting, as I say, in a lower chair, sir--[To Froth.] 'Twas in the Bunch of Grapes, where indeed you have a delight to sit, have you not? FROTH I have so, because it is an open room, and good for winter. POMPEY Why, very well then. I hope here be truths. ANGELO, [to Escalus] This will last out a night in Russia When nights are longest there. I'll take my leave, And leave you to the hearing of the cause, Hoping you'll find good cause to whip them all. ESCALUS I think no less. Good morrow to your Lordship [Angelo exits.] Now, sir, come on. What was done to Elbow's wife, once more? POMPEY Once, sir? There was nothing done to her once. ELBOW, [to Escalus] I beseech you, sir, ask him what this man did to my wife. POMPEY, [to Escalus] I beseech your Honor, ask me. ESCALUS Well, sir, what did this gentleman to her? POMPEY I beseech you, sir, look in this gentleman's face.--Good Master Froth, look upon his Honor. 'Tis for a good purpose.--Doth your Honor mark his face? ESCALUS Ay, sir, very well. POMPEY Nay, I beseech you, mark it well. ESCALUS Well, I do so. POMPEY Doth your Honor see any harm in his face? ESCALUS Why, no. POMPEY I'll be supposed upon a book, his face is the worst thing about him. Good, then, if his face be the worst thing about him, how could Master Froth do the Constable's wife any harm? I would know that of your Honor. ESCALUS He's in the right, constable. What say you to it? ELBOW First, an it like you, the house is a respected house; next, this is a respected fellow, and his mistress is a respected woman. POMPEY By this hand, sir, his wife is a more respected person than any of us all. ELBOW Varlet, thou liest; thou liest, wicked varlet! The time is yet to come that she was ever respected with man, woman, or child. POMPEY Sir, she was respected with him before he married with her. ESCALUS Which is the wiser here, Justice or Iniquity? Is this true? ELBOW, [to Pompey] O thou caitiff! O thou varlet! O thou wicked Hannibal! I respected with her before I was married to her?--If ever I was respected with her, or she with me, let not your Worship think me the poor duke's officer.--Prove this, thou wicked Hannibal, or I'll have mine action of batt'ry on thee. ESCALUS If he took you a box o' th' ear, you might have your action of slander too. ELBOW Marry, I thank your good Worship for it. What is 't your Worship's pleasure I shall do with this wicked caitiff? ESCALUS Truly, officer, because he hath some offenses in him that thou wouldst discover if thou couldst, let him continue in his courses till thou know'st what they are. ELBOW Marry, I thank your Worship for it. [To Pompey.] Thou seest, thou wicked varlet, now, what's come upon thee. Thou art to continue now, thou varlet, thou art to continue. ESCALUS, [to Froth] Where were you born, friend? FROTH Here in Vienna, sir. ESCALUS Are you of fourscore pounds a year? FROTH Yes, an 't please you, sir. ESCALUS So. [To Pompey.] What trade are you of, sir? POMPEY A tapster, a poor widow's tapster. ESCALUS Your mistress' name? POMPEY Mistress Overdone. ESCALUS Hath she had any more than one husband? POMPEY Nine, sir. Overdone by the last. ESCALUS Nine?--Come hither to me, Master Froth. Master Froth, I would not have you acquainted with tapsters; they will draw you, Master Froth, and you will hang them. Get you gone, and let me hear no more of you. FROTH I thank your Worship. For mine own part, I never come into any room in a taphouse but I am drawn in. ESCALUS Well, no more of it, Master Froth. Farewell. [Froth exits.] Come you hither to me, Master Tapster. What's your name, Master Tapster? POMPEY Pompey. ESCALUS What else? POMPEY Bum, sir. ESCALUS Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing about you, so that in the beastliest sense you are Pompey the Great. Pompey, you are partly a bawd, Pompey, howsoever you color it in being a tapster, are you not? Come, tell me true. It shall be the better for you. POMPEY Truly, sir, I am a poor fellow that would live. ESCALUS How would you live, Pompey? By being a bawd? What do you think of the trade, Pompey? Is it a lawful trade? POMPEY If the law would allow it, sir. ESCALUS But the law will not allow it, Pompey, nor it shall not be allowed in Vienna. POMPEY Does your Worship mean to geld and splay all the youth of the city? ESCALUS No, Pompey. POMPEY Truly, sir, in my poor opinion, they will to 't then. If your Worship will take order for the drabs and the knaves, you need not to fear the bawds. ESCALUS There is pretty orders beginning, I can tell you. It is but heading and hanging. POMPEY If you head and hang all that offend that way but for ten year together, you'll be glad to give out a commission for more heads. If this law hold in Vienna ten year, I'll rent the fairest house in it after threepence a bay. If you live to see this come to pass, say Pompey told you so. ESCALUS Thank you, good Pompey. And in requital of your prophecy, hark you: I advise you let me not find you before me again upon any complaint whatsoever; no, not for dwelling where you do. If I do, Pompey, I shall beat you to your tent and prove a shrewd Caesar to you. In plain dealing, Pompey, I shall have you whipped. So, for this time, Pompey, fare you well. POMPEY I thank your Worship for your good counsel. [Aside.] But I shall follow it as the flesh and fortune shall better determine. Whip me? No, no, let carman whip his jade. The valiant heart's not whipped out of his trade. [He exits.] ESCALUS Come hither to me, Master Elbow. Come hither, Master Constable. How long have you been in this place of constable? ELBOW Seven year and a half, sir. ESCALUS I thought, by the readiness in the office, you had continued in it some time. You say seven years together? ELBOW And a half, sir. ESCALUS Alas, it hath been great pains to you. They do you wrong to put you so oft upon 't. Are there not men in your ward sufficient to serve it? ELBOW Faith, sir, few of any wit in such matters. As they are chosen, they are glad to choose me for them. I do it for some piece of money and go through with all. ESCALUS Look you bring me in the names of some six or seven, the most sufficient of your parish. ELBOW To your Worship's house, sir? ESCALUS To my house. Fare you well. [Elbow and Officers exit.] [To Justice.] What's o'clock, think you? JUSTICE Eleven, sir. ESCALUS I pray you home to dinner with me. JUSTICE I humbly thank you. ESCALUS It grieves me for the death of Claudio, But there's no remedy. JUSTICE Lord Angelo is severe. ESCALUS It is but needful. Mercy is not itself that oft looks so. Pardon is still the nurse of second woe. But yet, poor Claudio. There is no remedy. Come, sir. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Provost and a Servant.] SERVANT He's hearing of a cause. He will come straight. I'll tell him of you. PROVOST Pray you do. [Servant exits.] I'll know His pleasure. Maybe he will relent. Alas, He hath but as offended in a dream. All sects, all ages smack of this vice, and he To die for 't? [Enter Angelo.] ANGELO Now, what's the matter, provost? PROVOST Is it your will Claudio shall die tomorrow? ANGELO Did not I tell thee yea? Hadst thou not order? Why dost thou ask again? PROVOST Lest I might be too rash. Under your good correction, I have seen When, after execution, judgment hath Repented o'er his doom. ANGELO Go to. Let that be mine. Do you your office, or give up your place And you shall well be spared. PROVOST I crave your Honor's pardon. What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet? She's very near her hour. ANGELO Dispose of her To some more fitter place, and that with speed. [Enter Servant.] SERVANT Here is the sister of the man condemned Desires access to you. ANGELO Hath he a sister? PROVOST Ay, my good lord, a very virtuous maid, And to be shortly of a sisterhood, If not already. ANGELO, [to Servant] Well, let her be admitted. [Servant exits.] See you the fornicatress be removed. Let her have needful but not lavish means. There shall be order for 't. [Enter Lucio and Isabella.] PROVOST, [beginning to exit] Save your Honor. ANGELO Stay a little while. [To Isabella.] You're welcome. What's your will? ISABELLA I am a woeful suitor to your Honor, Please but your Honor hear me. ANGELO Well, what's your suit? ISABELLA There is a vice that most I do abhor, And most desire should meet the blow of justice, For which I would not plead, but that I must; For which I must not plead, but that I am At war 'twixt will and will not. ANGELO Well, the matter? ISABELLA I have a brother is condemned to die. I do beseech you let it be his fault And not my brother. PROVOST, [aside] Heaven give thee moving graces. ANGELO Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it? Why, every fault's condemned ere it be done. Mine were the very cipher of a function To fine the faults whose fine stands in record And let go by the actor. ISABELLA O just but severe law! I had a brother, then. Heaven keep your Honor. LUCIO, [aside to Isabella] Give 't not o'er so. To him again, entreat him, Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown. You are too cold. If you should need a pin, You could not with more tame a tongue desire it. To him, I say. ISABELLA, [to Angelo] Must he needs die? ANGELO Maiden, no remedy. ISABELLA Yes, I do think that you might pardon him, And neither heaven nor man grieve at the mercy. ANGELO I will not do 't. ISABELLA But can you if you would? ANGELO Look what I will not, that I cannot do. ISABELLA But might you do 't and do the world no wrong If so your heart were touched with that remorse As mine is to him? ANGELO He's sentenced. 'Tis too late. LUCIO, [aside to Isabella] You are too cold. ISABELLA Too late? Why, no. I that do speak a word May call it back again. Well believe this: No ceremony that to great ones longs, Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword, The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe Become them with one half so good a grace As mercy does. If he had been as you, and you as he, You would have slipped like him, but he like you Would not have been so stern. ANGELO Pray you begone. ISABELLA I would to heaven I had your potency, And you were Isabel. Should it then be thus? No. I would tell what 'twere to be a judge And what a prisoner. LUCIO, [aside to Isabella] Ay, touch him; there's the vein. ANGELO Your brother is a forfeit of the law, And you but waste your words. ISABELLA Alas, alas! Why all the souls that were were forfeit once, And He that might the vantage best have took Found out the remedy. How would you be If He which is the top of judgment should But judge you as you are? O, think on that, And mercy then will breathe within your lips Like man new-made. ANGELO Be you content, fair maid. It is the law, not I, condemn your brother. Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son, It should be thus with him. He must die tomorrow. ISABELLA Tomorrow? O, that's sudden! Spare him, spare him. He's not prepared for death. Even for our kitchens We kill the fowl of season. Shall we serve heaven With less respect than we do minister To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink you. Who is it that hath died for this offense? There's many have committed it. LUCIO, [aside to Isabella] Ay, well said. ANGELO The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept. Those many had not dared to do that evil If the first that did th' edict infringe Had answered for his deed. Now 'tis awake, Takes note of what is done, and, like a prophet, Looks in a glass that shows what future evils-- Either now, or by remissness new-conceived, And so in progress to be hatched and born-- Are now to have no successive degrees But, ere they live, to end. ISABELLA Yet show some pity. ANGELO I show it most of all when I show justice, For then I pity those I do not know, Which a dismissed offense would after gall, And do him right that, answering one foul wrong, Lives not to act another. Be satisfied; Your brother dies tomorrow; be content. ISABELLA So you must be the first that gives this sentence, And he that suffers. O, it is excellent To have a giant's strength, but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant. LUCIO, [aside to Isabella] That's well said. ISABELLA Could great men thunder As Jove himself does, Jove would never be quiet, For every pelting, petty officer Would use his heaven for thunder, Nothing but thunder. Merciful heaven, Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt Splits the unwedgeable and gnarled oak, Than the soft myrtle. But man, proud man, Dressed in a little brief authority, Most ignorant of what he's most assured, His glassy essence, like an angry ape Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven As makes the angels weep, who with our spleens Would all themselves laugh mortal. LUCIO, [aside to Isabella] O, to him, to him, wench. He will relent. He's coming. I perceive 't. PROVOST, [aside] Pray heaven she win him. ISABELLA We cannot weigh our brother with ourself. Great men may jest with saints; 'tis wit in them, But in the less, foul profanation. LUCIO, [aside to Isabella] Thou 'rt i' th' right, girl. More o' that. ISABELLA That in the captain's but a choleric word Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy. LUCIO, [aside to Isabella] Art avised o' that? More on 't. ANGELO Why do you put these sayings upon me? ISABELLA Because authority, though it err like others, Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself That skins the vice o' th' top. Go to your bosom, Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know That's like my brother's fault. If it confess A natural guiltiness such as is his, Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue Against my brother's life. ANGELO, [aside] She speaks, and 'tis such sense That my sense breeds with it. [He begins to exit.] Fare you well. ISABELLA Gentle my lord, turn back. ANGELO I will bethink me. Come again tomorrow. ISABELLA Hark how I'll bribe you. Good my lord, turn back. ANGELO How? Bribe me? ISABELLA Ay, with such gifts that heaven shall share with you. LUCIO, [aside to Isabella] You had marred all else. ISABELLA Not with fond sicles of the tested gold, Or stones whose rate are either rich or poor As fancy values them, but with true prayers That shall be up at heaven and enter there Ere sunrise, prayers from preserved souls, From fasting maids whose minds are dedicate To nothing temporal. ANGELO Well, come to me tomorrow. LUCIO, [aside to Isabella] Go to, 'tis well; away. ISABELLA Heaven keep your Honor safe. ANGELO, [aside] Amen. For I am that way going to temptation Where prayers cross. ISABELLA At what hour tomorrow Shall I attend your Lordship? ANGELO At any time 'fore noon. ISABELLA Save your Honor. [She exits, with Lucio and Provost.] ANGELO From thee, even from thy virtue. What's this? What's this? Is this her fault or mine? The tempter or the tempted, who sins most, ha? Not she, nor doth she tempt; but it is I That, lying by the violet in the sun, Do as the carrion does, not as the flower, Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be That modesty may more betray our sense Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground enough, Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary And pitch our evils there? O fie, fie, fie! What dost thou, or what art thou, Angelo? Dost thou desire her foully for those things That make her good? O, let her brother live. Thieves for their robbery have authority When judges steal themselves. What, do I love her That I desire to hear her speak again And feast upon her eyes? What is 't I dream on? O cunning enemy that, to catch a saint, With saints dost bait thy hook. Most dangerous Is that temptation that doth goad us on To sin in loving virtue. Never could the strumpet With all her double vigor, art and nature, Once stir my temper, but this virtuous maid Subdues me quite. Ever till now When men were fond, I smiled and wondered how. [He exits.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Duke, disguised as a Friar, and Provost.] DUKE, [as Friar] Hail to you, provost, so I think you are. PROVOST I am the Provost. What's your will, good friar? DUKE, [as Friar] Bound by my charity and my blest order, I come to visit the afflicted spirits Here in the prison. Do me the common right To let me see them, and to make me know The nature of their crimes, that I may minister To them accordingly. PROVOST I would do more than that if more were needful. [Enter Juliet.] Look, here comes one, a gentlewoman of mine, Who, falling in the flaws of her own youth, Hath blistered her report. She is with child, And he that got it, sentenced--a young man, More fit to do another such offense Than die for this. DUKE, [as Friar] When must he die? PROVOST As I do think, tomorrow. [To Juliet.] I have provided for you. Stay awhile And you shall be conducted. DUKE, [as Friar, to Juliet] Repent you, fair one, of the sin you carry? JULIET I do; and bear the shame most patiently. DUKE, [as Friar] I'll teach you how you shall arraign your conscience, And try your penitence, if it be sound Or hollowly put on. JULIET I'll gladly learn. DUKE, [as Friar] Love you the man that wronged you? JULIET Yes, as I love the woman that wronged him. DUKE, [as Friar] So then it seems your most offenseful act Was mutually committed? JULIET Mutually. DUKE, [as Friar] Then was your sin of heavier kind than his. JULIET I do confess it and repent it, father. DUKE, [as Friar] 'Tis meet so, daughter; but lest you do repent As that the sin hath brought you to this shame, Which sorrow is always toward ourselves, not heaven, Showing we would not spare heaven as we love it, But as we stand in fear-- JULIET I do repent me as it is an evil, And take the shame with joy. DUKE, [as Friar] There rest. Your partner, as I hear, must die tomorrow, And I am going with instruction to him. Grace go with you. Benedicite. [He exits.] JULIET Must die tomorrow? O injurious love That respites me a life, whose very comfort Is still a dying horror. PROVOST 'Tis pity of him. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Angelo.] ANGELO When I would pray and think, I think and pray To several subjects. Heaven hath my empty words, Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue, Anchors on Isabel. God in my mouth, As if I did but only chew His name, And in my heart the strong and swelling evil Of my conception. The state whereon I studied Is, like a good thing being often read, Grown sere and tedious. Yea, my gravity, Wherein--let no man hear me--I take pride, Could I with boot change for an idle plume Which the air beats for vain. O place, O form, How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit, Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls To thy false seeming! Blood, thou art blood. Let's write "good angel" on the devil's horn. 'Tis not the devil's crest. [Knock within.] How now, who's there? [Enter Servant.] SERVANT One Isabel, a sister, desires access to you. ANGELO Teach her the way. [Servant exits.] O heavens, Why does my blood thus muster to my heart, Making both it unable for itself And dispossessing all my other parts Of necessary fitness? So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons, Come all to help him, and so stop the air By which he should revive. And even so The general subject to a well-wished king Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love Must needs appear offense. [Enter Isabella.] How now, fair maid? ISABELLA I am come to know your pleasure. ANGELO That you might know it would much better please me Than to demand what 'tis. Your brother cannot live. ISABELLA Even so. Heaven keep your Honor. ANGELO Yet may he live a while. And it may be As long as you or I. Yet he must die. ISABELLA Under your sentence? ANGELO Yea. ISABELLA When, I beseech you? That in his reprieve, Longer or shorter, he may be so fitted That his soul sicken not. ANGELO Ha! Fie, these filthy vices! It were as good To pardon him that hath from nature stolen A man already made, as to remit Their saucy sweetness that do coin God's image In stamps that are forbid. 'Tis all as easy Falsely to take away a life true made As to put metal in restrained means To make a false one. ISABELLA 'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in Earth. ANGELO Say you so? Then I shall pose you quickly: Which had you rather, that the most just law Now took your brother's life, or, to redeem him, Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness As she that he hath stained? ISABELLA Sir, believe this: I had rather give my body than my soul. ANGELO I talk not of your soul. Our compelled sins Stand more for number than for accompt. ISABELLA How say you? ANGELO Nay, I'll not warrant that, for I can speak Against the thing I say. Answer to this: I, now the voice of the recorded law, Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life. Might there not be a charity in sin To save this brother's life? ISABELLA Please you to do 't, I'll take it as a peril to my soul, It is no sin at all, but charity. ANGELO Pleased you to do 't, at peril of your soul, Were equal poise of sin and charity. ISABELLA That I do beg his life, if it be sin Heaven let me bear it. You granting of my suit, If that be sin, I'll make it my morn prayer To have it added to the faults of mine And nothing of your answer. ANGELO Nay, but hear me. Your sense pursues not mine. Either you are ignorant, Or seem so, crafty, and that's not good. ISABELLA Let me be ignorant and in nothing good, But graciously to know I am no better. ANGELO Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright When it doth tax itself, as these black masks Proclaim an enshield beauty ten times louder Than beauty could, displayed. But mark me. To be received plain, I'll speak more gross: Your brother is to die. ISABELLA So. ANGELO And his offense is so, as it appears, Accountant to the law upon that pain. ISABELLA True. ANGELO Admit no other way to save his life-- As I subscribe not that, nor any other-- But, in the loss of question, that you, his sister, Finding yourself desired of such a person Whose credit with the judge, or own great place, Could fetch your brother from the manacles Of the all-binding law, and that there were No earthly mean to save him but that either You must lay down the treasures of your body To this supposed, or else to let him suffer, What would you do? ISABELLA As much for my poor brother as myself. That is, were I under the terms of death, Th' impression of keen whips I'd wear as rubies And strip myself to death as to a bed That longing have been sick for, ere I'd yield My body up to shame. ANGELO Then must your brother die. ISABELLA And 'twere the cheaper way. Better it were a brother died at once Than that a sister, by redeeming him, Should die forever. ANGELO Were not you then as cruel as the sentence That you have slandered so? ISABELLA Ignomy in ransom and free pardon Are of two houses. Lawful mercy Is nothing kin to foul redemption. ANGELO You seemed of late to make the law a tyrant, And rather proved the sliding of your brother A merriment than a vice. ISABELLA O, pardon me, my lord. It oft falls out, To have what we would have, we speak not what we mean. I something do excuse the thing I hate For his advantage that I dearly love. ANGELO We are all frail. ISABELLA Else let my brother die, If not a fedary but only he Owe and succeed thy weakness. ANGELO Nay, women are frail too. ISABELLA Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves, Which are as easy broke as they make forms. Women--help, heaven--men their creation mar In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail, For we are soft as our complexions are, And credulous to false prints. ANGELO I think it well. And from this testimony of your own sex, Since I suppose we are made to be no stronger Than faults may shake our frames, let me be bold. I do arrest your words. Be that you are-- That is, a woman. If you be more, you're none. If you be one, as you are well expressed By all external warrants, show it now By putting on the destined livery. ISABELLA I have no tongue but one. Gentle my lord, Let me entreat you speak the former language. ANGELO Plainly conceive I love you. ISABELLA My brother did love Juliet, And you tell me that he shall die for 't. ANGELO He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love. ISABELLA I know your virtue hath a license in 't Which seems a little fouler than it is To pluck on others. ANGELO Believe me, on mine honor, My words express my purpose. ISABELLA Ha! Little honor to be much believed, And most pernicious purpose. Seeming, seeming! I will proclaim thee, Angelo, look for 't. Sign me a present pardon for my brother Or with an outstretched throat I'll tell the world aloud What man thou art. ANGELO Who will believe thee, Isabel? My unsoiled name, th' austereness of my life, My vouch against you, and my place i' th' state Will so your accusation overweigh That you shall stifle in your own report And smell of calumny. I have begun, And now I give my sensual race the rein. Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite; Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes That banish what they sue for. Redeem thy brother By yielding up thy body to my will, Or else he must not only die the death, But thy unkindness shall his death draw out To ling'ring sufferance. Answer me tomorrow, Or by the affection that now guides me most, I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you, Say what you can, my false o'erweighs your true. [He exits.] ISABELLA To whom should I complain? Did I tell this, Who would believe me? O, perilous mouths, That bear in them one and the selfsame tongue, Either of condemnation or approof, Bidding the law make curtsy to their will, Hooking both right and wrong to th' appetite, To follow as it draws. I'll to my brother. Though he hath fall'n by prompture of the blood, Yet hath he in him such a mind of honor That, had he twenty heads to tender down On twenty bloody blocks, he'd yield them up Before his sister should her body stoop To such abhorred pollution. Then, Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die. More than our brother is our chastity. I'll tell him yet of Angelo's request, And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest. [She exits.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Duke as a Friar, Claudio, and Provost.] DUKE, [as Friar] So then you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo? CLAUDIO The miserable have no other medicine But only hope. I have hope to live and am prepared to die. DUKE, [as Friar] Be absolute for death. Either death or life Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life: If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing That none but fools would keep. A breath thou art, Servile to all the skyey influences That doth this habitation where thou keep'st Hourly afflict. Merely, thou art death's fool, For him thou labor'st by thy flight to shun, And yet runn'st toward him still. Thou art not noble, For all th' accommodations that thou bear'st Are nursed by baseness. Thou 'rt by no means valiant, For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork Of a poor worm. Thy best of rest is sleep, And that thou oft provok'st, yet grossly fear'st Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself, For thou exists on many a thousand grains That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not, For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get, And what thou hast, forget'st. Thou art not certain, For thy complexion shifts to strange effects After the moon. If thou art rich, thou 'rt poor, For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows, Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey, And death unloads thee. Friend hast thou none, For thine own bowels which do call thee sire, The mere effusion of thy proper loins, Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth nor age, But as it were an after-dinner's sleep Dreaming on both, for all thy blessed youth Becomes as aged and doth beg the alms Of palsied eld; and when thou art old and rich, Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in this That bears the name of life? Yet in this life Lie hid more thousand deaths; yet death we fear, That makes these odds all even. CLAUDIO I humbly thank you. To sue to live, I find I seek to die, And seeking death, find life. Let it come on. ISABELLA, [within] What ho! Peace here, grace, and good company. PROVOST Who's there? Come in. The wish deserves a welcome. DUKE, [as Friar, to Claudio] Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again. CLAUDIO Most holy sir, I thank you. [Enter Isabella.] ISABELLA, [to Provost] My business is a word or two with Claudio. PROVOST And very welcome.--Look, signior, here's your sister. DUKE, [as Friar] Provost, a word with you. PROVOST As many as you please. DUKE, [as Friar, aside to Provost] Bring me to hear them speak, where I may be concealed. [Duke and Provost exit.] CLAUDIO Now, sister, what's the comfort? ISABELLA Why, As all comforts are, most good, most good indeed. Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven, Intends you for his swift ambassador, Where you shall be an everlasting leiger; Therefore your best appointment make with speed. Tomorrow you set on. CLAUDIO Is there no remedy? ISABELLA None but such remedy as, to save a head, To cleave a heart in twain. CLAUDIO But is there any? ISABELLA Yes, brother, you may live. There is a devilish mercy in the judge, If you'll implore it, that will free your life But fetter you till death. CLAUDIO Perpetual durance? ISABELLA Ay, just; perpetual durance, a restraint, Though all the world's vastidity you had, To a determined scope. CLAUDIO But in what nature? ISABELLA In such a one as, you consenting to 't, Would bark your honor from that trunk you bear And leave you naked. CLAUDIO Let me know the point. ISABELLA O, I do fear thee, Claudio, and I quake Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain, And six or seven winters more respect Than a perpetual honor. Dar'st thou die? The sense of death is most in apprehension, And the poor beetle that we tread upon In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies. CLAUDIO Why give you me this shame? Think you I can a resolution fetch From flowery tenderness? If I must die, I will encounter darkness as a bride, And hug it in mine arms. ISABELLA There spake my brother! There my father's grave Did utter forth a voice. Yes, thou must die. Thou art too noble to conserve a life In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy-- Whose settled visage and deliberate word Nips youth i' th' head, and follies doth enew As falcon doth the fowl--is yet a devil. His filth within being cast, he would appear A pond as deep as hell. CLAUDIO The prenzie Angelo? ISABELLA O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell The damned'st body to invest and cover In prenzie guards. Dost thou think, Claudio, If I would yield him my virginity Thou mightst be freed? CLAUDIO O heavens, it cannot be! ISABELLA Yes, he would give 't thee; from this rank offense, So to offend him still. This night's the time That I should do what I abhor to name, Or else thou diest tomorrow. CLAUDIO Thou shalt not do 't. ISABELLA O, were it but my life, I'd throw it down for your deliverance As frankly as a pin. CLAUDIO Thanks, dear Isabel. ISABELLA Be ready, Claudio, for your death tomorrow. CLAUDIO Yes. Has he affections in him That thus can make him bite the law by th' nose, When he would force it? Sure it is no sin, Or of the deadly seven it is the least. ISABELLA Which is the least? CLAUDIO If it were damnable, he being so wise, Why would he for the momentary trick Be perdurably fined? O, Isabel-- ISABELLA What says my brother? CLAUDIO Death is a fearful thing. ISABELLA And shamed life a hateful. CLAUDIO Ay, but to die, and go we know not where, To lie in cold obstruction and to rot, This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice, To be imprisoned in the viewless winds And blown with restless violence round about The pendent world; or to be worse than worst Of those that lawless and incertain thought Imagine howling--'tis too horrible. The weariest and most loathed worldly life That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment Can lay on nature is a paradise To what we fear of death. ISABELLA Alas, alas! CLAUDIO Sweet sister, let me live. What sin you do to save a brother's life, Nature dispenses with the deed so far That it becomes a virtue. ISABELLA O, you beast! O faithless coward, O dishonest wretch, Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice? Is 't not a kind of incest to take life From thine own sister's shame? What should I think? Heaven shield my mother played my father fair, For such a warped slip of wilderness Ne'er issued from his blood. Take my defiance; Die, perish. Might but my bending down Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed. I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death, No word to save thee. CLAUDIO Nay, hear me, Isabel-- ISABELLA O, fie, fie, fie! Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade. Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd. 'Tis best that thou diest quickly. CLAUDIO O, hear me, Isabella-- [Enter Duke as a Friar.] DUKE, [as Friar, to Isabella] Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one word. ISABELLA What is your will? DUKE, [as Friar] Might you dispense with your leisure, I would by and by have some speech with you. The satisfaction I would require is likewise your own benefit. ISABELLA I have no superfluous leisure. My stay must be stolen out of other affairs, but I will attend you awhile. DUKE, [as Friar, taking Claudio aside] Son, I have overheard what hath passed between you and your sister. Angelo had never the purpose to corrupt her; only he hath made an assay of her virtue, to practice his judgment with the disposition of natures. She, having the truth of honor in her, hath made him that gracious denial which he is most glad to receive. I am confessor to Angelo, and I know this to be true. Therefore prepare yourself to death. Do not satisfy your resolution with hopes that are fallible. Tomorrow you must die. Go to your knees and make ready. CLAUDIO Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out of love with life that I will sue to be rid of it. DUKE, [as Friar] Hold you there. Farewell.--Provost, a word with you. [Enter Provost.] PROVOST What's your will, father? DUKE, [as Friar] That now you are come, you will be gone. Leave me awhile with the maid. My mind promises with my habit no loss shall touch her by my company. PROVOST In good time. [He exits, with Claudio.] DUKE, [as Friar, to Isabella] The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good. The goodness that is cheap in beauty makes beauty brief in goodness, but grace, being the soul of your complexion, shall keep the body of it ever fair. The assault that Angelo hath made to you, fortune hath conveyed to my understanding; and but that frailty hath examples for his falling, I should wonder at Angelo. How will you do to content this substitute and to save your brother? ISABELLA I am now going to resolve him. I had rather my brother die by the law than my son should be unlawfully born. But, O, how much is the good duke deceived in Angelo! If ever he return, and I can speak to him, I will open my lips in vain, or discover his government. DUKE, [as Friar] That shall not be much amiss. Yet, as the matter now stands, he will avoid your accusation: he made trial of you only. Therefore, fasten your ear on my advisings. To the love I have in doing good, a remedy presents itself. I do make myself believe that you may most uprighteously do a poor wronged lady a merited benefit, redeem your brother from the angry law, do no stain to your own gracious person, and much please the absent duke, if peradventure he shall ever return to have hearing of this business. ISABELLA Let me hear you speak farther. I have spirit to do anything that appears not foul in the truth of my spirit. DUKE, [as Friar] Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful. Have you not heard speak of Mariana, the sister of Frederick, the great soldier who miscarried at sea? ISABELLA I have heard of the lady, and good words went with her name. DUKE, [as Friar] She should this Angelo have married, was affianced to her oath, and the nuptial appointed. Between which time of the contract and limit of the solemnity, her brother Frederick was wracked at sea, having in that perished vessel the dowry of his sister. But mark how heavily this befell to the poor gentlewoman. There she lost a noble and renowned brother, in his love toward her ever most kind and natural; with him, the portion and sinew of her fortune, her marriage dowry; with both, her combinate husband, this well-seeming Angelo. ISABELLA Can this be so? Did Angelo so leave her? DUKE, [as Friar] Left her in her tears and dried not one of them with his comfort, swallowed his vows whole, pretending in her discoveries of dishonor; in few, bestowed her on her own lamentation, which she yet wears for his sake; and he, a marble to her tears, is washed with them but relents not. ISABELLA What a merit were it in death to take this poor maid from the world! What corruption in this life, that it will let this man live! But how out of this can she avail? DUKE, [as Friar] It is a rupture that you may easily heal, and the cure of it not only saves your brother, but keeps you from dishonor in doing it. ISABELLA Show me how, good father. DUKE, [as Friar] This forenamed maid hath yet in her the continuance of her first affection. His unjust unkindness, that in all reason should have quenched her love, hath, like an impediment in the current, made it more violent and unruly. Go you to Angelo, answer his requiring with a plausible obedience, agree with his demands to the point. Only refer yourself to this advantage: first, that your stay with him may not be long, that the time may have all shadow and silence in it, and the place answer to convenience. This being granted in course, and now follows all: we shall advise this wronged maid to stead up your appointment, go in your place. If the encounter acknowledge itself hereafter, it may compel him to her recompense; and here, by this, is your brother saved, your honor untainted, the poor Mariana advantaged, and the corrupt deputy scaled. The maid will I frame and make fit for his attempt. If you think well to carry this as you may, the doubleness of the benefit defends the deceit from reproof. What think you of it? ISABELLA The image of it gives me content already, and I trust it will grow to a most prosperous perfection. DUKE, [as Friar] It lies much in your holding up. Haste you speedily to Angelo. If for this night he entreat you to his bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I will presently to Saint Luke's. There at the moated grange resides this dejected Mariana. At that place call upon me, and dispatch with Angelo that it may be quickly. ISABELLA I thank you for this comfort. Fare you well, good father. [She exits. The Duke remains.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Elbow, Pompey, and Officers.] ELBOW, [to Pompey] Nay, if there be no remedy for it but that you will needs buy and sell men and women like beasts, we shall have all the world drink brown and white bastard. DUKE, [as Friar, aside] O heavens, what stuff is here? POMPEY 'Twas never merry world since, of two usuries, the merriest was put down, and the worser allowed by order of law a furred gown to keep him warm, and furred with fox and lambskins too, to signify that craft, being richer than innocency, stands for the facing. ELBOW Come your way, sir.--Bless you, good father friar. DUKE, [as Friar] And you, good brother father. What offense hath this man made you, sir? ELBOW Marry, sir, he hath offended the law; and, sir, we take him to be a thief too, sir, for we have found upon him, sir, a strange picklock, which we have sent to the Deputy. DUKE, [as Friar, to Pompey] Fie, sirrah, a bawd, a wicked bawd! The evil that thou causest to be done, That is thy means to live. Do thou but think What 'tis to cram a maw or clothe a back From such a filthy vice; say to thyself, From their abominable and beastly touches I drink, I eat, array myself, and live. Canst thou believe thy living is a life, So stinkingly depending? Go mend, go mend. POMPEY Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir. But yet, sir, I would prove-- DUKE, [as Friar] Nay, if the devil have given thee proofs for sin, Thou wilt prove his.--Take him to prison, officer. Correction and instruction must both work Ere this rude beast will profit. ELBOW He must before the Deputy, sir; he has given him warning. The Deputy cannot abide a whoremaster. If he be a whoremonger and comes before him, he were as good go a mile on his errand. DUKE, [as Friar] That we were all, as some would seem to be, From our faults, as faults from seeming, free. ELBOW His neck will come to your waist--a cord, sir. [Enter Lucio.] POMPEY I spy comfort, I cry bail. Here's a gentleman and a friend of mine. LUCIO How now, noble Pompey? What, at the wheels of Caesar? Art thou led in triumph? What, is there none of Pygmalion's images, newly made woman, to be had now, for putting the hand in the pocket and extracting it clutched? What reply, ha? What sayst thou to this tune, matter, and method? Is 't not drowned i' th' last rain, ha? What sayst thou, trot? Is the world as it was, man? Which is the way? Is it sad and few words? Or how? The trick of it? DUKE, [as Friar, aside] Still thus, and thus; still worse. LUCIO, [to Pompey] How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress? Procures she still, ha? POMPEY Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and she is herself in the tub. LUCIO Why, 'tis good. It is the right of it. It must be so. Ever your fresh whore and your powdered bawd, an unshunned consequence; it must be so. Art going to prison, Pompey? POMPEY Yes, faith, sir. LUCIO Why, 'tis not amiss, Pompey. Farewell. Go say I sent thee thither. For debt, Pompey? Or how? ELBOW For being a bawd, for being a bawd. LUCIO Well, then, imprison him. If imprisonment be the due of a bawd, why, 'tis his right. Bawd is he, doubtless, and of antiquity too. Bawd born.-- Farewell, good Pompey. Commend me to the prison, Pompey. You will turn good husband now, Pompey; you will keep the house. POMPEY I hope, sir, your good Worship will be my bail. LUCIO No, indeed, will I not, Pompey; it is not the wear. I will pray, Pompey, to increase your bondage. If you take it not patiently, why, your mettle is the more. Adieu, trusty Pompey.--Bless you, friar. DUKE, [as Friar] And you. LUCIO, [to Pompey] Does Bridget paint still, Pompey, ha? ELBOW, [to Pompey] Come your ways, sir, come. POMPEY, [to Lucio] You will not bail me, then, sir? LUCIO Then, Pompey, nor now.--What news abroad, friar? What news? ELBOW, [to Pompey] Come your ways, sir, come. LUCIO Go to kennel, Pompey, go. [Elbow, Pompey, and Officers exit.] What news, friar, of the Duke? DUKE, [as Friar] I know none. Can you tell me of any? LUCIO Some say he is with the Emperor of Russia; other some, he is in Rome. But where is he, think you? DUKE, [as Friar] I know not where, but wheresoever, I wish him well. LUCIO It was a mad fantastical trick of him to steal from the state and usurp the beggary he was never born to. Lord Angelo dukes it well in his absence. He puts transgression to 't. DUKE, [as Friar] He does well in 't. LUCIO A little more lenity to lechery would do no harm in him. Something too crabbed that way, friar. DUKE, [as Friar] It is too general a vice, and severity must cure it. LUCIO Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred; it is well allied, but it is impossible to extirp it quite, friar, till eating and drinking be put down. They say this Angelo was not made by man and woman after this downright way of creation. Is it true, think you? DUKE, [as Friar] How should he be made, then? LUCIO Some report a sea-maid spawned him; some, that he was begot between two stockfishes. But it is certain that when he makes water, his urine is congealed ice; that I know to be true. And he is a motion generative, that's infallible. DUKE, [as Friar] You are pleasant, sir, and speak apace. LUCIO Why, what a ruthless thing is this in him, for the rebellion of a codpiece to take away the life of a man! Would the duke that is absent have done this? Ere he would have hanged a man for the getting a hundred bastards, he would have paid for the nursing a thousand. He had some feeling of the sport, he knew the service, and that instructed him to mercy. DUKE, [as Friar] I never heard the absent duke much detected for women. He was not inclined that way. LUCIO O, sir, you are deceived. DUKE, [as Friar] 'Tis not possible. LUCIO Who, not the Duke? Yes, your beggar of fifty; and his use was to put a ducat in her clack-dish. The Duke had crotchets in him. He would be drunk too, that let me inform you. DUKE, [as Friar] You do him wrong, surely. LUCIO Sir, I was an inward of his. A shy fellow was the Duke, and I believe I know the cause of his withdrawing. DUKE, [as Friar] What, I prithee, might be the cause? LUCIO No, pardon. 'Tis a secret must be locked within the teeth and the lips. But this I can let you understand: the greater file of the subject held the Duke to be wise. DUKE, [as Friar] Wise? Why, no question but he was. LUCIO A very superficial, ignorant, unweighing fellow. DUKE, [as Friar] Either this is envy in you, folly, or mistaking. The very stream of his life and the business he hath helmed must, upon a warranted need, give him a better proclamation. Let him be but testimonied in his own bringings-forth, and he shall appear to the envious a scholar, a statesman, and a soldier. Therefore you speak unskillfully. Or, if your knowledge be more, it is much darkened in your malice. LUCIO Sir, I know him, and I love him. DUKE, [as Friar] Love talks with better knowledge, and knowledge with dearer love. LUCIO Come, sir, I know what I know. DUKE, [as Friar] I can hardly believe that, since you know not what you speak. But if ever the Duke return, as our prayers are he may, let me desire you to make your answer before him. If it be honest you have spoke, you have courage to maintain it. I am bound to call upon you, and, I pray you, your name? LUCIO Sir, my name is Lucio, well known to the Duke. DUKE, [as Friar] He shall know you better, sir, if I may live to report you. LUCIO I fear you not. DUKE, [as Friar] O, you hope the Duke will return no more, or you imagine me too unhurtful an opposite. But indeed I can do you little harm; you'll forswear this again. LUCIO I'll be hanged first. Thou art deceived in me, friar. But no more of this. Canst thou tell if Claudio die tomorrow or no? DUKE, [as Friar] Why should he die, sir? LUCIO Why? For filling a bottle with a tundish. I would the Duke we talk of were returned again. This ungenitured agent will unpeople the province with continency. Sparrows must not build in his house eaves, because they are lecherous. The Duke yet would have dark deeds darkly answered. He would never bring them to light Would he were returned. Marry, this Claudio is condemned for untrussing. Farewell, good friar. I prithee pray for me. The Duke, I say to thee again, would eat mutton on Fridays. He's now past it, yet--and I say to thee-- he would mouth with a beggar though she smelt brown bread and garlic. Say that I said so. Farewell. [He exits.] DUKE No might nor greatness in mortality Can censure scape. Back-wounding calumny The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue? But who comes here? [Enter Escalus, Provost, Officers, and Mistress Overdone, a Bawd.] ESCALUS, [to Officers] Go, away with her to prison. BAWD Good my lord, be good to me. Your Honor is accounted a merciful man, good my lord. ESCALUS Double and treble admonition, and still forfeit in the same kind? This would make mercy swear and play the tyrant. PROVOST A bawd of eleven years' continuance, may it please your Honor. BAWD, [to Escalus] My lord, this is one Lucio's information against me. Mistress Kate Keepdown was with child by him in the Duke's time; he promised her marriage. His child is a year and a quarter old come Philip and Jacob. I have kept it myself, and see how he goes about to abuse me. ESCALUS That fellow is a fellow of much license. Let him be called before us. Away with her to prison.-- Go to, no more words. [Officers exit with Bawd.] Provost, my brother Angelo will not be altered. Claudio must die tomorrow. Let him be furnished with divines and have all charitable preparation. If my brother wrought by my pity, it should not be so with him. PROVOST So please you, this friar hath been with him, and advised him for th' entertainment of death. ESCALUS Good even, good father. DUKE, [as Friar] Bliss and goodness on you. ESCALUS Of whence are you? DUKE, [as Friar] Not of this country, though my chance is now To use it for my time. I am a brother Of gracious order, late come from the See In special business from his Holiness. ESCALUS What news abroad i' th' world? DUKE, [as Friar] None but that there is so great a fever on goodness that the dissolution of it must cure it. Novelty is only in request, and it is as dangerous to be aged in any kind of course as it is virtuous to be constant in any undertaking. There is scarce truth enough alive to make societies secure, but security enough to make fellowships accursed. Much upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. This news is old enough, yet it is every day's news. I pray you, sir, of what disposition was the Duke? ESCALUS One that, above all other strifes, contended especially to know himself. DUKE, [as Friar] What pleasure was he given to? ESCALUS Rather rejoicing to see another merry than merry at anything which professed to make him rejoice--a gentleman of all temperance. But leave we him to his events, with a prayer they may prove prosperous, and let me desire to know how you find Claudio prepared. I am made to understand that you have lent him visitation. DUKE, [as Friar] He professes to have received no sinister measure from his judge but most willingly humbles himself to the determination of justice. Yet had he framed to himself, by the instruction of his frailty, many deceiving promises of life, which I, by my good leisure, have discredited to him, and now is he resolved to die. ESCALUS You have paid the heavens your function and the prisoner the very debt of your calling. I have labored for the poor gentleman to the extremest shore of my modesty, but my brother justice have I found so severe that he hath forced me to tell him he is indeed Justice. DUKE, [as Friar] If his own life answer the straitness of his proceeding, it shall become him well; wherein if he chance to fail, he hath sentenced himself. ESCALUS I am going to visit the prisoner. Fare you well. DUKE, [as Friar] Peace be with you. [Escalus and Provost exit.] DUKE He who the sword of heaven will bear Should be as holy as severe, Pattern in himself to know, Grace to stand, and virtue go; More nor less to others paying Than by self-offenses weighing. Shame to him whose cruel striking Kills for faults of his own liking. Twice treble shame on Angelo, To weed my vice, and let his grow. O, what may man within him hide, Though angel on the outward side! How may likeness made in crimes, Making practice on the times, To draw with idle spiders' strings Most ponderous and substantial things. Craft against vice I must apply. With Angelo tonight shall lie His old betrothed but despised. So disguise shall, by th' disguised, Pay with falsehood false exacting And perform an old contracting. [He exits.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Mariana, and Boy singing.] Song. Take, O take those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn, And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn. But my kisses bring again, bring again, Seals of love, but sealed in vain, sealed in vain. [Enter Duke as a Friar.] MARIANA, [to Boy] Break off thy song and haste thee quick away. Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice Hath often stilled my brawling discontent. [Boy exits.] I cry you mercy, sir, and well could wish You had not found me here so musical. Let me excuse me, and believe me so, My mirth it much displeased, but pleased my woe. DUKE, [as Friar] 'Tis good, though music oft hath such a charm To make bad good and good provoke to harm. I pray you tell me, hath anybody inquired for me here today? Much upon this time have I promised here to meet. MARIANA You have not been inquired after. I have sat here all day. [Enter Isabella.] DUKE, [as Friar] I do constantly believe you. The time is come even now. I shall crave your forbearance a little. Maybe I will call upon you anon for some advantage to yourself. MARIANA I am always bound to you. [She exits.] DUKE, [as Friar] Very well met, and welcome. What is the news from this good deputy? ISABELLA He hath a garden circummured with brick, Whose western side is with a vineyard backed; And to that vineyard is a planched gate That makes his opening with this bigger key. This other doth command a little door Which from the vineyard to the garden leads. There have I made my promise, upon the Heavy middle of the night, to call upon him. DUKE, [as Friar] But shall you on your knowledge find this way? ISABELLA I have ta'en a due and wary note upon 't. With whispering and most guilty diligence, In action all of precept, he did show me The way twice o'er. DUKE, [as Friar] Are there no other tokens Between you 'greed concerning her observance? ISABELLA No, none, but only a repair i' th' dark, And that I have possessed him my most stay Can be but brief, for I have made him know I have a servant comes with me along That stays upon me, whose persuasion is I come about my brother. DUKE, [as Friar] 'Tis well borne up. I have not yet made known to Mariana A word of this.--What ho, within; come forth. [Enter Mariana.] [To Mariana.] I pray you be acquainted with this maid. She comes to do you good. ISABELLA I do desire the like. DUKE, [as Friar, to Mariana] Do you persuade yourself that I respect you? MARIANA Good friar, I know you do, and have found it. DUKE, [as Friar] Take then this your companion by the hand, Who hath a story ready for your ear. I shall attend your leisure. But make haste. The vaporous night approaches. MARIANA, [to Isabella] Will 't please you walk aside? [Isabella and Mariana exit.] DUKE O place and greatness, millions of false eyes Are stuck upon thee; volumes of report Run with these false, and, most contrarious, quest Upon thy doings; thousand escapes of wit Make thee the father of their idle dream And rack thee in their fancies. [Enter Mariana and Isabella.] DUKE, [as Friar] Welcome. How agreed? ISABELLA She'll take the enterprise upon her, father, If you advise it. DUKE, [as Friar] It is not my consent But my entreaty too. ISABELLA, [to Mariana] Little have you to say When you depart from him, but, soft and low, "Remember now my brother." MARIANA Fear me not. DUKE, [as Friar] Nor, gentle daughter, fear you not at all. He is your husband on a precontract. To bring you thus together 'tis no sin, Sith that the justice of your title to him Doth flourish the deceit. Come, let us go. Our corn's to reap, for yet our tithe's to sow. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Provost, Pompey, and Officer.] PROVOST Come hither, sirrah. Can you cut off a man's head? POMPEY If the man be a bachelor, sir, I can; but if he be a married man, he's his wife's head, and I can never cut off a woman's head. PROVOST Come, sir, leave me your snatches, and yield me a direct answer. Tomorrow morning are to die Claudio and Barnardine. Here is in our prison a common executioner, who in his office lacks a helper. If you will take it on you to assist him, it shall redeem you from your gyves; if not, you shall have your full time of imprisonment and your deliverance with an unpitied whipping, for you have been a notorious bawd. POMPEY Sir, I have been an unlawful bawd time out of mind, but yet I will be content to be a lawful hangman. I would be glad to receive some instruction from my fellow partner. PROVOST What ho, Abhorson!--Where's Abhorson there? [Enter Abhorson.] ABHORSON Do you call, sir? PROVOST Sirrah, here's a fellow will help you tomorrow in your execution. If you think it meet, compound with him by the year and let him abide here with you; if not, use him for the present and dismiss him. He cannot plead his estimation with you; he hath been a bawd. ABHORSON A bawd, sir? Fie upon him! He will discredit our mystery. PROVOST Go to, sir; you weigh equally. A feather will turn the scale. [He exits.] POMPEY Pray, sir, by your good favor--for surely, sir, a good favor you have, but that you have a hanging look--do you call, sir, your occupation a mystery? ABHORSON Ay, sir, a mystery. POMPEY Painting, sir, I have heard say, is a mystery; and your whores, sir, being members of my occupation, using painting, do prove my occupation a mystery; but what mystery there should be in hanging, if I should be hanged, I cannot imagine. ABHORSON Sir, it is a mystery. POMPEY Proof? ABHORSON Every true man's apparel fits your thief. If it be too little for your thief, your true man thinks it big enough; if it be too big for your thief, your thief thinks it little enough. So every true man's apparel fits your thief. [Enter Provost.] PROVOST Are you agreed? POMPEY Sir, I will serve him, for I do find your hangman is a more penitent trade than your bawd. He doth oftener ask forgiveness. PROVOST, [to Abhorson] You, sirrah, provide your block and your axe tomorrow, four o'clock. ABHORSON, [to Pompey] Come on, bawd. I will instruct thee in my trade. Follow. POMPEY I do desire to learn, sir; and I hope, if you have occasion to use me for your own turn, you shall find me yare. For truly, sir, for your kindness, I owe you a good turn. [Pompey and Abhorson exit.] PROVOST, [to Officer] Call hither Barnardine and Claudio. [Officer exits.] Th' one has my pity; not a jot the other, Being a murderer, though he were my brother. [Enter Claudio, with Officer.] Look, here's the warrant, Claudio, for thy death. 'Tis now dead midnight, and by eight tomorrow Thou must be made immortal. Where's Barnardine? CLAUDIO As fast locked up in sleep as guiltless labor When it lies starkly in the traveler's bones. He will not wake. PROVOST Who can do good on him? Well, go, prepare yourself. [Knock within.] But hark, what noise?-- Heaven give your spirits comfort. [Claudio exits, with Officer.] [Knock within.] By and by!-- I hope it is some pardon or reprieve For the most gentle Claudio. [Enter Duke, as a Friar.] Welcome, father. DUKE, [as Friar] The best and wholesom'st spirits of the night Envelop you, good provost. Who called here of late? PROVOST None since the curfew rung. DUKE, [as Friar] Not Isabel? PROVOST No. DUKE, [as Friar] They will, then, ere 't be long. PROVOST What comfort is for Claudio? DUKE, [as Friar] There's some in hope. PROVOST It is a bitter deputy. DUKE, [as Friar] Not so, not so. His life is paralleled Even with the stroke and line of his great justice. He doth with holy abstinence subdue That in himself which he spurs on his power To qualify in others. Were he mealed with that Which he corrects, then were he tyrannous, But this being so, he's just. [Knock within.] Now are they come. [Provost exits.] This is a gentle provost. Seldom when The steeled jailer is the friend of men. [Enter Provost. Knocking continues.] How now, what noise? That spirit's possessed with haste That wounds th' unsisting postern with these strokes. PROVOST There he must stay until the officer Arise to let him in. He is called up. DUKE, [as Friar] Have you no countermand for Claudio yet, But he must die tomorrow? PROVOST None, sir, none. DUKE, [as Friar] As near the dawning, provost, as it is, You shall hear more ere morning. PROVOST Happily You something know, yet I believe there comes No countermand. No such example have we. Besides, upon the very siege of justice Lord Angelo hath to the public ear Professed the contrary. [Enter a Messenger.] This is his Lordship's man. DUKE, [as Friar] And here comes Claudio's pardon. MESSENGER, [giving Provost a paper] My lord hath sent you this note, and by me this further charge: that you swerve not from the smallest article of it, neither in time, matter, or other circumstance. Good morrow, for, as I take it, it is almost day. PROVOST I shall obey him. [Provost reads message.] [Messenger exits.] DUKE, [aside] This is his pardon, purchased by such sin For which the pardoner himself is in. Hence hath offense his quick celerity When it is borne in high authority. When vice makes mercy, mercy's so extended That for the fault's love is th' offender friended. [As Friar.] Now, sir, what news? PROVOST I told you: Lord Angelo, belike thinking me remiss in mine office, awakens me with this unwonted putting-on, methinks strangely; for he hath not used it before. DUKE, [as Friar] Pray you let's hear. PROVOST, [reads the letter.] Whatsoever you may hear to the contrary, let Claudio be executed by four of the clock, and in the afternoon Barnardine. For my better satisfaction, let me have Claudio's head sent me by five. Let this be duly performed with a thought that more depends on it than we must yet deliver. Thus fail not to do your office, as you will answer it at your peril. What say you to this, sir? DUKE, [as Friar] What is that Barnardine who is to be executed in th' afternoon? PROVOST A Bohemian born, but here nursed up and bred; one that is a prisoner nine years old. DUKE, [as Friar] How came it that the absent duke had not either delivered him to his liberty, or executed him? I have heard it was ever his manner to do so. PROVOST His friends still wrought reprieves for him; and indeed his fact, till now in the government of Lord Angelo, came not to an undoubtful proof. DUKE, [as Friar] It is now apparent? PROVOST Most manifest, and not denied by himself. DUKE, [as Friar] Hath he borne himself penitently in prison? How seems he to be touched? PROVOST A man that apprehends death no more dreadfully but as a drunken sleep; careless, reckless, and fearless of what's past, present, or to come; insensible of mortality and desperately mortal. DUKE, [as Friar] He wants advice. PROVOST He will hear none. He hath evermore had the liberty of the prison; give him leave to escape hence, he would not. Drunk many times a day, if not many days entirely drunk. We have very oft awaked him, as if to carry him to execution, and showed him a seeming warrant for it. It hath not moved him at all. DUKE, [as Friar] More of him anon. There is written in your brow, provost, honesty and constancy; if I read it not truly, my ancient skill beguiles me. But in the boldness of my cunning, I will lay myself in hazard. Claudio, whom here you have warrant to execute, is no greater forfeit to the law than Angelo, who hath sentenced him. To make you understand this in a manifested effect, I crave but four days' respite, for the which you are to do me both a present and a dangerous courtesy. PROVOST Pray, sir, in what? DUKE, [as Friar] In the delaying death. PROVOST Alack, how may I do it, having the hour limited, and an express command, under penalty, to deliver his head in the view of Angelo? I may make my case as Claudio's, to cross this in the smallest. DUKE, [as Friar] By the vow of mine order I warrant you, if my instructions may be your guide. Let this Barnardine be this morning executed and his head borne to Angelo. PROVOST Angelo hath seen them both and will discover the favor. DUKE, [as Friar] O, death's a great disguiser, and you may add to it. Shave the head and tie the beard, and say it was the desire of the penitent to be so bared before his death. You know the course is common. If anything fall to you upon this, more than thanks and good fortune, by the saint whom I profess, I will plead against it with my life. PROVOST Pardon me, good father, it is against my oath. DUKE, [as Friar] Were you sworn to the Duke or to the Deputy? PROVOST To him and to his substitutes. DUKE, [as Friar] You will think you have made no offense if the Duke avouch the justice of your dealing? PROVOST But what likelihood is in that? DUKE, [as Friar] Not a resemblance, but a certainty; yet since I see you fearful, that neither my coat, integrity, nor persuasion can with ease attempt you, I will go further than I meant, to pluck all fears out of you. Look you, sir, here is the hand and seal of the Duke. [He shows the Provost a paper.] You know the character, I doubt not, and the signet is not strange to you. PROVOST I know them both. DUKE, [as Friar] The contents of this is the return of the Duke; you shall anon overread it at your pleasure, where you shall find within these two days he will be here. This is a thing that Angelo knows not, for he this very day receives letters of strange tenor, perchance of the Duke's death, perchance entering into some monastery, but by chance nothing of what is writ. Look, th' unfolding star calls up the shepherd. Put not yourself into amazement how these things should be. All difficulties are but easy when they are known. Call your executioner, and off with Barnardine's head. I will give him a present shrift, and advise him for a better place. Yet you are amazed, but this shall absolutely resolve you. [He gives the Provost the paper.] Come away; it is almost clear dawn. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Pompey.] POMPEY I am as well acquainted here as I was in our house of profession. One would think it were Mistress Overdone's own house, for here be many of her old customers. First, here's young Master Rash. He's in for a commodity of brown paper and old ginger, ninescore and seventeen pounds, of which he made five marks ready money. Marry, then ginger was not much in request, for the old women were all dead. Then is there here one Master Caper, at the suit of Master Three-pile the mercer, for some four suits of peach-colored satin, which now peaches him a beggar. Then have we here young Dizzy and young Master Deep-vow, and Master Copper-spur and Master Starve-lackey the rapier-and-dagger man, and young Drop-heir that killed lusty Pudding, and Master Forth-light the tilter, and brave Master Shoe-tie the great traveler, and wild Half-can that stabbed Pots, and I think forty more, all great doers in our trade, and are now "for the Lord's sake." [Enter Abhorson.] ABHORSON Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither. POMPEY, [calling] Master Barnardine, you must rise and be hanged, Master Barnardine. ABHORSON, [calling] What ho, Barnardine! BARNARDINE, [within] A pox o' your throats! Who makes that noise there? What are you? POMPEY, [calling to Barnardine offstage] Your friends, sir, the hangman. You must be so good, sir, to rise and be put to death. BARNARDINE, [within] Away, you rogue, away! I am sleepy. ABHORSON, [to Pompey] Tell him he must awake, and that quickly too. POMPEY, [calling] Pray, Master Barnardine, awake till you are executed, and sleep afterwards. ABHORSON Go in to him, and fetch him out. POMPEY He is coming, sir, he is coming. I hear his straw rustle. ABHORSON Is the axe upon the block, sirrah? POMPEY Very ready, sir. [Enter Barnardine.] BARNARDINE How now, Abhorson? What's the news with you? ABHORSON Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap into your prayers, for, look you, the warrant's come. BARNARDINE You rogue, I have been drinking all night. I am not fitted for 't. POMPEY O, the better, sir, for he that drinks all night and is hanged betimes in the morning may sleep the sounder all the next day. [Enter Duke, as a Friar.] ABHORSON, [to Barnardine] Look you, sir, here comes your ghostly father. Do we jest now, think you? DUKE, [as Friar, to Barnardine] Sir, induced by my charity, and hearing how hastily you are to depart, I am come to advise you, comfort you, and pray with you. BARNARDINE Friar, not I. I have been drinking hard all night, and I will have more time to prepare me, or they shall beat out my brains with billets. I will not consent to die this day, that's certain. DUKE, [as Friar] O, sir, you must. And therefore I beseech you look forward on the journey you shall go. BARNARDINE I swear I will not die today for any man's persuasion. DUKE, [as Friar] But hear you-- BARNARDINE Not a word. If you have anything to say to me, come to my ward, for thence will not I today. [He exits.] DUKE, [as Friar] Unfit to live or die. O gravel heart! After him, fellows; bring him to the block. [Abhorson and Pompey exit.] [Enter Provost.] PROVOST Now, sir, how do you find the prisoner? DUKE, [as Friar] A creature unprepared, unmeet for death, And to transport him in the mind he is Were damnable. PROVOST Here in the prison, father, There died this morning of a cruel fever One Ragozine, a most notorious pirate, A man of Claudio's years, his beard and head Just of his color. What if we do omit This reprobate till he were well inclined, And satisfy the Deputy with the visage Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio? DUKE, [as Friar] O, 'tis an accident that heaven provides! Dispatch it presently. The hour draws on Prefixed by Angelo. See this be done And sent according to command, whiles I Persuade this rude wretch willingly to die. PROVOST This shall be done, good father, presently. But Barnardine must die this afternoon, And how shall we continue Claudio, To save me from the danger that might come If he were known alive? DUKE, [as Friar] Let this be done: Put them in secret holds, both Barnardine and Claudio. Ere twice the sun hath made his journal greeting To yonder generation, you shall find Your safety manifested. PROVOST I am your free dependent. DUKE, [as Friar] Quick, dispatch, and send the head to Angelo. [Provost exits.] DUKE Now will I write letters to Angelo-- The Provost he shall bear them--whose contents Shall witness to him I am near at home And that by great injunctions I am bound To enter publicly. Him I'll desire To meet me at the consecrated fount A league below the city; and from thence, By cold gradation and well-balanced form, We shall proceed with Angelo. [Enter Provost, carrying a head.] PROVOST Here is the head. I'll carry it myself. DUKE, [as Friar] Convenient is it. Make a swift return, For I would commune with you of such things That want no ear but yours. PROVOST I'll make all speed. [He exits.] ISABELLA, [within] Peace, ho, be here. DUKE The tongue of Isabel. She's come to know If yet her brother's pardon be come hither. But I will keep her ignorant of her good To make her heavenly comforts of despair When it is least expected. [Enter Isabella.] ISABELLA Ho, by your leave. DUKE, [as Friar] Good morning to you, fair and gracious daughter. ISABELLA The better, given me by so holy a man. Hath yet the Deputy sent my brother's pardon? DUKE, [as Friar] He hath released him, Isabel, from the world. His head is off, and sent to Angelo. ISABELLA Nay, but it is not so. DUKE, [as Friar] It is no other. Show your wisdom, daughter, in your close patience. ISABELLA O, I will to him and pluck out his eyes! DUKE, [as Friar] You shall not be admitted to his sight. ISABELLA Unhappy Claudio, wretched Isabel, Injurious world, most damned Angelo! DUKE, [as Friar] This nor hurts him nor profits you a jot. Forbear it, therefore; give your cause to heaven. Mark what I say, which you shall find By every syllable a faithful verity. The Duke comes home tomorrow--nay, dry your eyes. One of our convent, and his confessor, Gives me this instance. Already he hath carried Notice to Escalus and Angelo, Who do prepare to meet him at the gates, There to give up their power. If you can, pace your wisdom In that good path that I would wish it go, And you shall have your bosom on this wretch, Grace of the Duke, revenges to your heart, And general honor. ISABELLA I am directed by you. DUKE, [as Friar, showing her a paper] This letter, then, to Friar Peter give. 'Tis that he sent me of the Duke's return. Say, by this token, I desire his company At Mariana's house tonight. Her cause and yours I'll perfect him withal, and he shall bring you Before the Duke, and to the head of Angelo Accuse him home and home. For my poor self, I am combined by a sacred vow And shall be absent. Wend you with this letter. [He hands her the paper.] Command these fretting waters from your eyes With a light heart. Trust not my holy order If I pervert your course.--Who's here? [Enter Lucio.] LUCIO Good even, friar, where's the Provost? DUKE, [as Friar] Not within, sir. LUCIO O, pretty Isabella, I am pale at mine heart to see thine eyes so red. Thou must be patient. I am fain to dine and sup with water and bran. I dare not for my head fill my belly. One fruitful meal would set me to 't. But they say the Duke will be here tomorrow. By my troth, Isabel, I loved thy brother. If the old fantastical duke of dark corners had been at home, he had lived. [Isabella exits.] DUKE, [as Friar] Sir, the Duke is marvelous little beholding to your reports, but the best is, he lives not in them. LUCIO Friar, thou knowest not the Duke so well as I do. He's a better woodman than thou tak'st him for. DUKE, [as Friar] Well, you'll answer this one day. Fare you well. LUCIO Nay, tarry, I'll go along with thee. I can tell thee pretty tales of the Duke. DUKE, [as Friar] You have told me too many of him already, sir, if they be true; if not true, none were enough. LUCIO I was once before him for getting a wench with child. DUKE, [as Friar] Did you such a thing? LUCIO Yes, marry, did I, but I was fain to forswear it. They would else have married me to the rotten medlar. DUKE, [as Friar] Sir, your company is fairer than honest. Rest you well. LUCIO By my troth, I'll go with thee to the lane's end. If bawdy talk offend you, we'll have very little of it. Nay, friar, I am a kind of burr. I shall stick. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Angelo and Escalus.] ESCALUS Every letter he hath writ hath disvouched other. ANGELO In most uneven and distracted manner. His actions show much like to madness. Pray heaven his wisdom be not tainted. And why meet him at the gates and deliver our authorities there? ESCALUS I guess not. ANGELO And why should we proclaim it in an hour before his entering, that if any crave redress of injustice, they should exhibit their petitions in the street? ESCALUS He shows his reason for that: to have a dispatch of complaints, and to deliver us from devices hereafter, which shall then have no power to stand against us. ANGELO Well, I beseech you let it be proclaimed. Betimes i' th' morn, I'll call you at your house. Give notice to such men of sort and suit as are to meet him. ESCALUS I shall, sir. Fare you well. ANGELO Good night. [Escalus exits.] This deed unshapes me quite, makes me unpregnant And dull to all proceedings. A deflowered maid, And by an eminent body that enforced The law against it. But that her tender shame Will not proclaim against her maiden loss, How might she tongue me! Yet reason dares her no, For my authority bears of a credent bulk That no particular scandal once can touch But it confounds the breather. He should have lived, Save that his riotous youth with dangerous sense Might in the times to come have ta'en revenge By so receiving a dishonored life With ransom of such shame. Would yet he had lived. Alack, when once our grace we have forgot, Nothing goes right. We would, and we would not. [He exits.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Duke and Friar Peter.] DUKE, [giving the Friar papers.] These letters at fit time deliver me. The Provost knows our purpose and our plot. The matter being afoot, keep your instruction And hold you ever to our special drift, Though sometimes you do blench from this to that As cause doth minister. Go call at Flavius' house And tell him where I stay. Give the like notice To Valencius, Rowland, and to Crassus, And bid them bring the trumpets to the gate. But send me Flavius first. FRIAR PETER It shall be speeded well. [He exits.] [Enter Varrius.] DUKE I thank thee, Varrius. Thou hast made good haste. Come, we will walk. There's other of our friends Will greet us here anon. My gentle Varrius. [They exit.] Scene 6 ======= [Enter Isabella and Mariana.] ISABELLA To speak so indirectly I am loath. I would say the truth, but to accuse him so That is your part; yet I am advised to do it, He says, to veil full purpose. MARIANA Be ruled by him. ISABELLA Besides, he tells me that, if peradventure He speak against me on the adverse side, I should not think it strange, for 'tis a physic That's bitter to sweet end. MARIANA I would Friar Peter-- [Enter Friar Peter.] ISABELLA O peace, the Friar is come. FRIAR PETER Come, I have found you out a stand most fit, Where you may have such vantage on the Duke He shall not pass you. Twice have the trumpets sounded. The generous and gravest citizens Have hent the gates, and very near upon The Duke is entering. Therefore hence, away. [They exit.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Duke, Varrius, Lords, Angelo, Escalus, Lucio, Provost, Officers, and Citizens at several doors.] DUKE, [to Angelo] My very worthy cousin, fairly met. [To Escalus.] Our old and faithful friend, we are glad to see you. ANGELO, ESCALUS Happy return be to your royal Grace. DUKE Many and hearty thankings to you both. We have made inquiry of you, and we hear Such goodness of your justice that our soul Cannot but yield you forth to public thanks, Forerunning more requital. ANGELO You make my bonds still greater. DUKE O, your desert speaks loud, and I should wrong it To lock it in the wards of covert bosom When it deserves with characters of brass A forted residence 'gainst the tooth of time And razure of oblivion. Give me your hand And let the subject see, to make them know That outward courtesies would fain proclaim Favors that keep within.--Come, Escalus, You must walk by us on our other hand. And good supporters are you. [Enter Friar Peter and Isabella.] FRIAR PETER, [to Isabella] Now is your time. Speak loud, and kneel before him. ISABELLA, [kneeling] Justice, O royal duke. Vail your regard Upon a wronged--I would fain have said, a maid. O worthy prince, dishonor not your eye By throwing it on any other object Till you have heard me in my true complaint And given me justice, justice, justice, justice. DUKE Relate your wrongs. In what, by whom? Be brief. Here is Lord Angelo shall give you justice. Reveal yourself to him. ISABELLA O worthy duke, You bid me seek redemption of the devil. Hear me yourself, for that which I must speak Must either punish me, not being believed, Or wring redress from you. Hear me, O hear me, here. ANGELO My lord, her wits, I fear me, are not firm. She hath been a suitor to me for her brother Cut off by course of justice. ISABELLA, [standing] By course of justice! ANGELO And she will speak most bitterly and strange. ISABELLA Most strange, but yet most truly will I speak. That Angelo's forsworn, is it not strange? That Angelo's a murderer, is 't not strange? That Angelo is an adulterous thief, An hypocrite, a virgin-violator, Is it not strange, and strange? DUKE Nay, it is ten times strange. ISABELLA It is not truer he is Angelo Than this is all as true as it is strange. Nay, it is ten times true, for truth is truth To th' end of reck'ning. DUKE Away with her. Poor soul, She speaks this in th' infirmity of sense. ISABELLA O prince, I conjure thee, as thou believest There is another comfort than this world, That thou neglect me not with that opinion That I am touched with madness. Make not impossible That which but seems unlike. 'Tis not impossible But one, the wicked'st caitiff on the ground, May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute As Angelo. Even so may Angelo, In all his dressings, caracts, titles, forms, Be an archvillain. Believe it, royal prince, If he be less, he's nothing, but he's more, Had I more name for badness. DUKE By mine honesty, If she be mad--as I believe no other-- Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense, Such a dependency of thing on thing, As e'er I heard in madness. ISABELLA O gracious duke, Harp not on that; nor do not banish reason For inequality, but let your reason serve To make the truth appear where it seems hid, And hide the false seems true. DUKE Many that are not mad Have, sure, more lack of reason. What would you say? ISABELLA I am the sister of one Claudio, Condemned upon the act of fornication To lose his head, condemned by Angelo. I, in probation of a sisterhood, Was sent to by my brother; one Lucio As then the messenger-- LUCIO, [to Duke] That's I, an 't like your Grace. I came to her from Claudio and desired her To try her gracious fortune with Lord Angelo For her poor brother's pardon. ISABELLA, [to Duke] That's he indeed. DUKE, [to Lucio] You were not bid to speak. LUCIO No, my good lord, Nor wished to hold my peace. DUKE I wish you now, then. Pray you take note of it, and when you have A business for yourself, pray heaven you then Be perfect. LUCIO I warrant your Honor. DUKE The warrant's for yourself. Take heed to 't. ISABELLA This gentleman told somewhat of my tale. LUCIO Right. DUKE It may be right, but you are i' the wrong To speak before your time.--Proceed. ISABELLA I went To this pernicious caitiff deputy-- DUKE That's somewhat madly spoken. ISABELLA Pardon it; The phrase is to the matter. DUKE Mended again. The matter; proceed. ISABELLA In brief, to set the needless process by: How I persuaded, how I prayed and kneeled, How he refelled me, and how I replied-- For this was of much length--the vile conclusion I now begin with grief and shame to utter. He would not, but by gift of my chaste body To his concupiscible intemperate lust, Release my brother; and after much debatement, My sisterly remorse confutes mine honor, And I did yield to him. But the next morn betimes, His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant For my poor brother's head. DUKE This is most likely! ISABELLA O, that it were as like as it is true! DUKE By heaven, fond wretch, thou know'st not what thou speak'st, Or else thou art suborned against his honor In hateful practice. First, his integrity Stands without blemish; next, it imports no reason That with such vehemency he should pursue Faults proper to himself. If he had so offended, He would have weighed thy brother by himself And not have cut him off. Someone hath set you on. Confess the truth, and say by whose advice Thou cam'st here to complain. ISABELLA And is this all? Then, O you blessed ministers above, Keep me in patience, and with ripened time Unfold the evil which is here wrapped up In countenance. Heaven shield your Grace from woe, As I, thus wronged, hence unbelieved go. DUKE I know you'd fain be gone.--An officer! [An Officer comes forward.] To prison with her. Shall we thus permit A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall On him so near us? This needs must be a practice.-- Who knew of your intent and coming hither? ISABELLA One that I would were here, Friar Lodowick. [Officer exits with Isabella.] DUKE A ghostly father, belike. Who knows that Lodowick? LUCIO My lord, I know him. 'Tis a meddling friar. I do not like the man. Had he been lay, my lord, For certain words he spake against your Grace In your retirement, I had swinged him soundly. DUKE Words against me? This' a good friar, belike. And to set on this wretched woman here Against our substitute! Let this friar be found. LUCIO But yesternight, my lord, she and that friar, I saw them at the prison. A saucy friar, A very scurvy fellow. FRIAR PETER, [to Duke] Blessed be your royal Grace. I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard Your royal ear abused. First hath this woman Most wrongfully accused your substitute, Who is as free from touch or soil with her As she from one ungot. DUKE We did believe no less. Know you that Friar Lodowick that she speaks of? FRIAR PETER I know him for a man divine and holy, Not scurvy, nor a temporary meddler, As he's reported by this gentleman; And on my trust, a man that never yet Did, as he vouches, misreport your Grace. LUCIO My lord, most villainously, believe it. FRIAR PETER Well, he in time may come to clear himself; But at this instant he is sick, my lord, Of a strange fever. Upon his mere request, Being come to knowledge that there was complaint Intended 'gainst Lord Angelo, came I hither To speak as from his mouth, what he doth know Is true and false, and what he with his oath And all probation will make up full clear Whensoever he's convented. First, for this woman, To justify this worthy nobleman, So vulgarly and personally accused, Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes Till she herself confess it. DUKE Good friar, let's hear it.-- Do you not smile at this, Lord Angelo? O heaven, the vanity of wretched fools!-- Give us some seats.--Come, cousin Angelo, In this I'll be impartial. Be you judge Of your own cause. [Duke and Angelo are seated.] [Enter Mariana, veiled.] Is this the witness, friar? First, let her show her face, and after speak. MARIANA Pardon, my lord, I will not show my face Until my husband bid me. DUKE What, are you married? MARIANA No, my lord. DUKE Are you a maid? MARIANA No, my lord. DUKE A widow, then? MARIANA Neither, my lord. DUKE Why you are nothing, then, neither maid, widow, nor wife? LUCIO My lord, she may be a punk, for many of them are neither maid, widow, nor wife. DUKE Silence that fellow. I would he had some cause to prattle for himself. LUCIO Well, my lord. MARIANA My lord, I do confess I ne'er was married, And I confess besides I am no maid. I have known my husband, yet my husband Knows not that ever he knew me. LUCIO He was drunk, then, my lord; it can be no better. DUKE For the benefit of silence, would thou wert so too. LUCIO Well, my lord. DUKE This is no witness for Lord Angelo. MARIANA Now I come to 't, my lord. She that accuses him of fornication In selfsame manner doth accuse my husband, And charges him, my lord, with such a time When, I'll depose, I had him in mine arms With all th' effect of love. ANGELO Charges she more than me? MARIANA Not that I know. DUKE No? You say your husband. MARIANA Why, just, my lord, and that is Angelo, Who thinks he knows that he ne'er knew my body, But knows, he thinks, that he knows Isabel's. ANGELO This is a strange abuse. Let's see thy face. MARIANA My husband bids me. Now I will unmask. [She removes her veil.] This is that face, thou cruel Angelo, Which once thou swor'st was worth the looking on. This is the hand which, with a vowed contract, Was fast belocked in thine. This is the body That took away the match from Isabel And did supply thee at thy garden house In her imagined person. DUKE, [to Angelo] Know you this woman? LUCIO Carnally, she says. DUKE Sirrah, no more. LUCIO Enough, my lord. ANGELO My lord, I must confess I know this woman, And five years since there was some speech of marriage Betwixt myself and her, which was broke off, Partly for that her promised proportions Came short of composition, but in chief For that her reputation was disvalued In levity. Since which time of five years I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her, Upon my faith and honor. MARIANA, [kneeling, to Duke] Noble prince, As there comes light from heaven and words from breath, As there is sense in truth and truth in virtue, I am affianced this man's wife as strongly As words could make up vows. And, my good lord, But Tuesday night last gone in 's garden house He knew me as a wife. As this is true, Let me in safety raise me from my knees, Or else forever be confixed here A marble monument. ANGELO I did but smile till now. Now, good my lord, give me the scope of justice. My patience here is touched. I do perceive These poor informal women are no more But instruments of some more mightier member That sets them on. Let me have way, my lord, To find this practice out. DUKE Ay, with my heart, And punish them to your height of pleasure.-- Thou foolish friar, and thou pernicious woman, Compact with her that's gone, think'st thou thy oaths, Though they would swear down each particular saint, Were testimonies against his worth and credit That's sealed in approbation?--You, Lord Escalus, Sit with my cousin; lend him your kind pains To find out this abuse, whence 'tis derived. [The Duke rises. Escalus is seated.] There is another friar that set them on. Let him be sent for. FRIAR PETER Would he were here, my lord, for he indeed Hath set the women on to this complaint; Your provost knows the place where he abides, And he may fetch him. DUKE, [to Provost] Go, do it instantly. [Provost exits.] [To Angelo.] And you, my noble and well-warranted cousin, Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth, Do with your injuries as seems you best In any chastisement. I for a while Will leave you; but stir not you till you have Well determined upon these slanderers. ESCALUS My lord, we'll do it throughly. [Duke exits.] Signior Lucio, did not you say you knew that Friar Lodowick to be a dishonest person? LUCIO Cucullus non facit monachum, honest in nothing but in his clothes, and one that hath spoke most villainous speeches of the Duke. ESCALUS We shall entreat you to abide here till he come, and enforce them against him. We shall find this friar a notable fellow. LUCIO As any in Vienna, on my word. ESCALUS Call that same Isabel here once again. I would speak with her. [An Attendant exits.] [To Angelo.] Pray you, my lord, give me leave to question. You shall see how I'll handle her. LUCIO Not better than he, by her own report. ESCALUS Say you? LUCIO Marry, sir, I think, if you handled her privately, she would sooner confess; perchance publicly she'll be ashamed. ESCALUS I will go darkly to work with her. LUCIO That's the way, for women are light at midnight. [Enter Duke as a Friar, Provost, and Isabella, with Officers.] ESCALUS, [to Isabella] Come on, mistress. Here's a gentlewoman denies all that you have said. LUCIO My lord, here comes the rascal I spoke of, here with the Provost. ESCALUS In very good time. Speak not you to him till we call upon you. LUCIO Mum. ESCALUS, [to disguised Duke] Come, sir, did you set these women on to slander Lord Angelo? They have confessed you did. DUKE, [as Friar] 'Tis false. ESCALUS How? Know you where you are? DUKE, [as Friar] Respect to your great place, and let the devil Be sometime honored for his burning throne. Where is the Duke? 'Tis he should hear me speak. ESCALUS The Duke's in us, and we will hear you speak. Look you speak justly. DUKE, [as Friar] Boldly, at least.--But, O, poor souls, Come you to seek the lamb here of the fox? Good night to your redress. Is the Duke gone? Then is your cause gone too. The Duke's unjust Thus to retort your manifest appeal, And put your trial in the villain's mouth Which here you come to accuse. LUCIO This is the rascal; this is he I spoke of. ESCALUS, [to disguised Duke] Why, thou unreverend and unhallowed friar, Is 't not enough thou hast suborned these women To accuse this worthy man, but, in foul mouth And in the witness of his proper ear, To call him villain? And then to glance from him To th' Duke himself, to tax him with injustice?-- Take him hence. To th' rack with him. We'll touse him Joint by joint, but we will know his purpose. What? "Unjust"? DUKE, [as Friar] Be not so hot. The Duke Dare no more stretch this finger of mine than he Dare rack his own. His subject am I not, Nor here provincial. My business in this state Made me a looker-on here in Vienna, Where I have seen corruption boil and bubble Till it o'errun the stew. Laws for all faults, But faults so countenanced that the strong statutes Stand like the forfeits in a barber's shop, As much in mock as mark. ESCALUS Slander to th' state! Away with him to prison. ANGELO, [to Lucio] What can you vouch against him, Signior Lucio? Is this the man that you did tell us of? LUCIO 'Tis he, my lord.--Come hither, Goodman Baldpate. Do you know me? DUKE, [as Friar] I remember you, sir, by the sound of your voice. I met you at the prison in the absence of the Duke. LUCIO O, did you so? And do you remember what you said of the Duke? DUKE, [as Friar] Most notedly, sir. LUCIO Do you so, sir? And was the Duke a fleshmonger, a fool, and a coward, as you then reported him to be? DUKE, [as Friar] You must, sir, change persons with me ere you make that my report. You indeed spoke so of him, and much more, much worse. LUCIO O, thou damnable fellow! Did not I pluck thee by the nose for thy speeches? DUKE, [as Friar] I protest I love the Duke as I love myself. ANGELO Hark how the villain would close now, after his treasonable abuses! ESCALUS Such a fellow is not to be talked withal. Away with him to prison. Where is the Provost? [Provost comes forward.] Away with him to prison. Lay bolts enough upon him. Let him speak no more. Away with those giglets too, and with the other confederate companion. [Provost seizes the disguised Duke.] DUKE, [as Friar] Stay, sir, stay awhile. ANGELO What, resists he?--Help him, Lucio. LUCIO, [to the disguised Duke] Come, sir, come, sir, come, sir. Foh, sir! Why you bald-pated, lying rascal, you must be hooded, must you? Show your knave's visage, with a pox to you! Show your sheep-biting face, and be hanged an hour! Will 't not off? [He pulls off the friar's hood, and reveals the Duke.] [Angelo and Escalus stand.] DUKE Thou art the first knave that e'er mad'st a duke.-- First, provost, let me bail these gentle three. [To Lucio.] Sneak not away, sir, for the friar and you Must have a word anon.--Lay hold on him. LUCIO This may prove worse than hanging. DUKE, [to Escalus] What you have spoke I pardon. Sit you down. We'll borrow place of him. [To Angelo.] Sir, by your leave. Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudence That yet can do thee office? If thou hast, Rely upon it till my tale be heard, And hold no longer out. ANGELO O my dread lord, I should be guiltier than my guiltiness To think I can be undiscernible, When I perceive your Grace, like power divine, Hath looked upon my passes. Then, good prince, No longer session hold upon my shame, But let my trial be mine own confession. Immediate sentence then and sequent death Is all the grace I beg. DUKE Come hither, Mariana. [Mariana stands and comes forward.] [To Angelo.] Say, wast thou e'er contracted to this woman? ANGELO I was, my lord. DUKE Go take her hence and marry her instantly. [To Friar Peter.] Do you the office, friar, which consummate, Return him here again.--Go with him, provost. [Angelo, Mariana, Friar Peter, and Provost exit.] ESCALUS My lord, I am more amazed at his dishonor Than at the strangeness of it. DUKE Come hither, Isabel. Your friar is now your prince. As I was then Advertising and holy to your business, Not changing heart with habit, I am still Attorneyed at your service. ISABELLA O, give me pardon That I, your vassal, have employed and pained Your unknown sovereignty. DUKE You are pardoned, Isabel. And now, dear maid, be you as free to us. Your brother's death, I know, sits at your heart, And you may marvel why I obscured myself, Laboring to save his life, and would not rather Make rash remonstrance of my hidden power Than let him so be lost. O most kind maid, It was the swift celerity of his death, Which I did think with slower foot came on, That brained my purpose. But peace be with him. That life is better life past fearing death Than that which lives to fear. Make it your comfort, So happy is your brother. ISABELLA I do, my lord. [Enter Angelo, Mariana, Friar Peter, and Provost.] DUKE For this new-married man approaching here, Whose salt imagination yet hath wronged Your well-defended honor, you must pardon For Mariana's sake. But as he adjudged your brother-- Being criminal in double violation Of sacred chastity and of promise-breach Thereon dependent for your brother's life-- The very mercy of the law cries out Most audible, even from his proper tongue, "An Angelo for Claudio, death for death." Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure; Like doth quit like, and measure still for measure.-- Then, Angelo, thy fault's thus manifested, Which, though thou wouldst deny, denies thee vantage. We do condemn thee to the very block Where Claudio stooped to death, and with like haste.-- Away with him. MARIANA O my most gracious lord, I hope you will not mock me with a husband. DUKE It is your husband mocked you with a husband. Consenting to the safeguard of your honor, I thought your marriage fit. Else imputation, For that he knew you, might reproach your life And choke your good to come. For his possessions, Although by confiscation they are ours, We do instate and widow you with all To buy you a better husband. MARIANA O my dear lord, I crave no other nor no better man. DUKE Never crave him. We are definitive. MARIANA, [kneeling] Gentle my liege-- DUKE You do but lose your labor.-- Away with him to death. [To Lucio.] Now, sir, to you. MARIANA O, my good lord.--Sweet Isabel, take my part. Lend me your knees, and all my life to come I'll lend you all my life to do you service. DUKE Against all sense you do importune her. Should she kneel down in mercy of this fact, Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break And take her hence in horror. MARIANA Isabel, Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me, Hold up your hands, say nothing. I'll speak all. They say best men are molded out of faults, And, for the most, become much more the better For being a little bad. So may my husband. O Isabel, will you not lend a knee? DUKE He dies for Claudio's death. ISABELLA, [kneeling] Most bounteous sir, Look, if it please you, on this man condemned As if my brother lived. I partly think A due sincerity governed his deeds Till he did look on me. Since it is so, Let him not die. My brother had but justice, In that he did the thing for which he died. For Angelo, His act did not o'ertake his bad intent, And must be buried but as an intent That perished by the way. Thoughts are no subjects, Intents but merely thoughts. MARIANA Merely, my lord. DUKE Your suit's unprofitable. Stand up, I say. [They stand.] I have bethought me of another fault.-- Provost, how came it Claudio was beheaded At an unusual hour? PROVOST It was commanded so. DUKE Had you a special warrant for the deed? PROVOST No, my good lord, it was by private message. DUKE For which I do discharge you of your office. Give up your keys. PROVOST Pardon me, noble lord. I thought it was a fault, but knew it not, Yet did repent me after more advice, For testimony whereof, one in the prison That should by private order else have died, I have reserved alive. DUKE What's he? PROVOST His name is Barnardine. DUKE I would thou hadst done so by Claudio. Go fetch him hither. Let me look upon him. [Provost exits.] ESCALUS, [to Angelo] I am sorry one so learned and so wise As you, Lord Angelo, have still appeared, Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood And lack of tempered judgment afterward. ANGELO I am sorry that such sorrow I procure; And so deep sticks it in my penitent heart That I crave death more willingly than mercy. 'Tis my deserving, and I do entreat it. [Enter Barnardine and Provost, Claudio, muffled, and Juliet.] DUKE, [to Provost] Which is that Barnardine? PROVOST This, my lord. DUKE There was a friar told me of this man.-- Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul That apprehends no further than this world, And squar'st thy life according. Thou 'rt condemned. But, for those earthly faults, I quit them all, And pray thee take this mercy to provide For better times to come.--Friar, advise him. I leave him to your hand.--What muffled fellow's that? PROVOST This is another prisoner that I saved Who should have died when Claudio lost his head, As like almost to Claudio as himself. [He unmuffles Claudio.] DUKE, [to Isabella] If he be like your brother, for his sake Is he pardoned; and for your lovely sake, Give me your hand and say you will be mine, He is my brother too. But fitter time for that. By this Lord Angelo perceives he's safe; Methinks I see a quick'ning in his eye.-- Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well. Look that you love your wife, her worth worth yours. I find an apt remission in myself. And yet here's one in place I cannot pardon. [To Lucio.] You, sirrah, that knew me for a fool, a coward, One all of luxury, an ass, a madman. Wherein have I so deserved of you That you extol me thus? LUCIO Faith, my lord, I spoke it but according to the trick. If you will hang me for it, you may, but I had rather it would please you I might be whipped. DUKE Whipped first, sir, and hanged after.-- Proclaim it, provost, round about the city, If any woman wronged by this lewd fellow-- As I have heard him swear himself there's one Whom he begot with child--let her appear, And he shall marry her. The nuptial finished, Let him be whipped and hanged. LUCIO I beseech your Highness do not marry me to a whore. Your Highness said even now I made you a duke. Good my lord, do not recompense me in making me a cuckold. DUKE Upon mine honor, thou shalt marry her. Thy slanders I forgive and therewithal Remit thy other forfeits.--Take him to prison, And see our pleasure herein executed. LUCIO Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing to death, whipping, and hanging. DUKE Slandering a prince deserves it. [Officers take Lucio away.] She, Claudio, that you wronged, look you restore.-- Joy to you, Mariana.--Love her, Angelo. I have confessed her, and I know her virtue.-- Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness. There's more behind that is more gratulate.-- Thanks, provost, for thy care and secrecy. We shall employ thee in a worthier place.-- Forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home The head of Ragozine for Claudio's. Th' offense pardons itself.--Dear Isabel, I have a motion much imports your good, Whereto if you'll a willing ear incline, What's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine.-- So, bring us to our palace, where we'll show What's yet behind that's meet you all should know. [They exit.]

Much Ado About Nothing by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== LEONATO, Governor of Messina HERO, his daughter BEATRICE, his niece LEONATO'S BROTHER Waiting gentlewomen to Hero: MARGARET URSULA DON PEDRO, Prince of Aragon COUNT CLAUDIO, a young lord from Florence SIGNIOR BENEDICK, a gentleman from Padua BALTHASAR SIGNIOR ANTONIO DON JOHN, Don Pedro's brother Don John's followers: BORACHIO CONRADE DOGBERRY, Master Constable in Messina VERGES, Dogberry's partner GEORGE SEACOAL, leader of the Watch FIRST WATCHMAN SECOND WATCHMAN SEXTON FRIAR FRANCIS MESSENGER to Leonato MESSENGER to Don Pedro BOY Musicians, Lords, Attendants, Son to Leonato's brother ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Leonato, Governor of Messina, Hero his daughter, and Beatrice his niece, with a Messenger.] LEONATO, [with a letter] I learn in this letter that Don Pedro of Aragon comes this night to Messina. MESSENGER He is very near by this. He was not three leagues off when I left him. LEONATO How many gentlemen have you lost in this action? MESSENGER But few of any sort, and none of name. LEONATO A victory is twice itself when the achiever brings home full numbers. I find here that Don Pedro hath bestowed much honor on a young Florentine called Claudio. MESSENGER Much deserved on his part, and equally remembered by Don Pedro. He hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age, doing in the figure of a lamb the feats of a lion. He hath indeed better bettered expectation than you must expect of me to tell you how. LEONATO He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much glad of it. MESSENGER I have already delivered him letters, and there appears much joy in him, even so much that joy could not show itself modest enough without a badge of bitterness. LEONATO Did he break out into tears? MESSENGER In great measure. LEONATO A kind overflow of kindness. There are no faces truer than those that are so washed. How much better is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping! BEATRICE I pray you, is Signior Mountanto returned from the wars or no? MESSENGER I know none of that name, lady. There was none such in the army of any sort. LEONATO What is he that you ask for, niece? HERO My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua. MESSENGER O, he's returned, and as pleasant as ever he was. BEATRICE He set up his bills here in Messina and challenged Cupid at the flight, and my uncle's Fool, reading the challenge, subscribed for Cupid and challenged him at the bird-bolt. I pray you, how many hath he killed and eaten in these wars? But how many hath he killed? For indeed I promised to eat all of his killing. LEONATO Faith, niece, you tax Signior Benedick too much, but he'll be meet with you, I doubt it not. MESSENGER He hath done good service, lady, in these wars. BEATRICE You had musty victual, and he hath holp to eat it. He is a very valiant trencherman; he hath an excellent stomach. MESSENGER And a good soldier too, lady. BEATRICE And a good soldier to a lady, but what is he to a lord? MESSENGER A lord to a lord, a man to a man, stuffed with all honorable virtues. BEATRICE It is so indeed. He is no less than a stuffed man, but for the stuffing--well, we are all mortal. LEONATO You must not, sir, mistake my niece. There is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and her. They never meet but there's a skirmish of wit between them. BEATRICE Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last conflict, four of his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man governed with one, so that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him bear it for a difference between himself and his horse, for it is all the wealth that he hath left to be known a reasonable creature. Who is his companion now? He hath every month a new sworn brother. MESSENGER Is 't possible? BEATRICE Very easily possible. He wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat; it ever changes with the next block. MESSENGER I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books. BEATRICE No. An he were, I would burn my study. But I pray you, who is his companion? Is there no young squarer now that will make a voyage with him to the devil? MESSENGER He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio. BEATRICE O Lord, he will hang upon him like a disease! He is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio! If he have caught the Benedick, it will cost him a thousand pound ere he be cured. MESSENGER I will hold friends with you, lady. BEATRICE Do, good friend. LEONATO You will never run mad, niece. BEATRICE No, not till a hot January. MESSENGER Don Pedro is approached. [Enter Don Pedro, Prince of Aragon, with Claudio, Benedick, Balthasar, and John the Bastard.] PRINCE Good Signior Leonato, are you come to meet your trouble? The fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it. LEONATO Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of your Grace, for trouble being gone, comfort should remain, but when you depart from me, sorrow abides and happiness takes his leave. PRINCE You embrace your charge too willingly. [Turning to Hero.] I think this is your daughter. LEONATO Her mother hath many times told me so. BENEDICK Were you in doubt, sir, that you asked her? LEONATO Signior Benedick, no, for then were you a child. PRINCE You have it full, Benedick. We may guess by this what you are, being a man. Truly the lady fathers herself.--Be happy, lady, for you are like an honorable father. [Leonato and the Prince move aside.] BENEDICK If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is. BEATRICE I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick, nobody marks you. BENEDICK What, my dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living? BEATRICE Is it possible disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain if you come in her presence. BENEDICK Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted; and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truly I love none. BEATRICE A dear happiness to women. They would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood I am of your humor for that. I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me. BENEDICK God keep your Ladyship still in that mind, so some gentleman or other shall 'scape a predestinate scratched face. BEATRICE Scratching could not make it worse an 'twere such a face as yours were. BENEDICK Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher. BEATRICE A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours. BENEDICK I would my horse had the speed of your tongue and so good a continuer, but keep your way, i' God's name, I have done. BEATRICE You always end with a jade's trick. I know you of old. [Leonato and the Prince come forward.] PRINCE That is the sum of all, Leonato.--Signior Claudio and Signior Benedick, my dear friend Leonato hath invited you all. I tell him we shall stay here at the least a month, and he heartily prays some occasion may detain us longer. I dare swear he is no hypocrite, but prays from his heart. LEONATO If you swear, my lord, you shall not be forsworn. [To Don John.] Let me bid you welcome, my lord, being reconciled to the Prince your brother, I owe you all duty. DON JOHN I thank you. I am not of many words, but I thank you. LEONATO Please it your Grace lead on? PRINCE Your hand, Leonato. We will go together. [All exit except Benedick and Claudio.] CLAUDIO Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of Signior Leonato? BENEDICK I noted her not, but I looked on her. CLAUDIO Is she not a modest young lady? BENEDICK Do you question me as an honest man should do, for my simple true judgment? Or would you have me speak after my custom, as being a professed tyrant to their sex? CLAUDIO No, I pray thee, speak in sober judgment. BENEDICK Why, i' faith, methinks she's too low for a high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too little for a great praise. Only this commendation I can afford her, that were she other than she is, she were unhandsome, and being no other but as she is, I do not like her. CLAUDIO Thou thinkest I am in sport. I pray thee tell me truly how thou lik'st her. BENEDICK Would you buy her that you enquire after her? CLAUDIO Can the world buy such a jewel? BENEDICK Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak you this with a sad brow? Or do you play the flouting jack, to tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder and Vulcan a rare carpenter? Come, in what key shall a man take you to go in the song? CLAUDIO In mine eye she is the sweetest lady that ever I looked on. BENEDICK I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter. There's her cousin, an she were not possessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of December. But I hope you have no intent to turn husband, have you? CLAUDIO I would scarce trust myself, though I had sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife. BENEDICK Is 't come to this? In faith, hath not the world one man but he will wear his cap with suspicion? Shall I never see a bachelor of threescore again? Go to, i' faith, an thou wilt needs thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it, and sigh away Sundays. Look, Don Pedro is returned to seek you. [Enter Don Pedro, Prince of Aragon.] PRINCE What secret hath held you here that you followed not to Leonato's? BENEDICK I would your Grace would constrain me to tell. PRINCE I charge thee on thy allegiance. BENEDICK You hear, Count Claudio, I can be secret as a dumb man, I would have you think so, but on my allegiance--mark you this, on my allegiance--he is in love. With who? Now, that is your Grace's part. Mark how short his answer is: with Hero, Leonato's short daughter. CLAUDIO If this were so, so were it uttered. BENEDICK Like the old tale, my lord: "It is not so, nor 'twas not so, but, indeed, God forbid it should be so." CLAUDIO If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it should be otherwise. PRINCE Amen, if you love her, for the lady is very well worthy. CLAUDIO You speak this to fetch me in, my lord. PRINCE By my troth, I speak my thought. CLAUDIO And in faith, my lord, I spoke mine. BENEDICK And by my two faiths and troths, my lord, I spoke mine. CLAUDIO That I love her, I feel. PRINCE That she is worthy, I know. BENEDICK That I neither feel how she should be loved nor know how she should be worthy is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me. I will die in it at the stake. PRINCE Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the despite of beauty. CLAUDIO And never could maintain his part but in the force of his will. BENEDICK That a woman conceived me, I thank her; that she brought me up, I likewise give her most humble thanks. But that I will have a recheat winded in my forehead or hang my bugle in an invisible baldrick, all women shall pardon me. Because I will not do them the wrong to mistrust any, I will do myself the right to trust none. And the fine is, for the which I may go the finer, I will live a bachelor. PRINCE I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love. BENEDICK With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord, not with love. Prove that ever I lose more blood with love than I will get again with drinking, pick out mine eyes with a ballad-maker's pen and hang me up at the door of a brothel house for the sign of blind Cupid. PRINCE Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou wilt prove a notable argument. BENEDICK If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat and shoot at me, and he that hits me, let him be clapped on the shoulder and called Adam. PRINCE Well, as time shall try. In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke. BENEDICK The savage bull may, but if ever the sensible Benedick bear it, pluck off the bull's horns and set them in my forehead, and let me be vilely painted, and in such great letters as they write "Here is good horse to hire" let them signify under my sign "Here you may see Benedick the married man." CLAUDIO If this should ever happen, thou wouldst be horn-mad. PRINCE Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his quiver in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly. BENEDICK I look for an earthquake too, then. PRINCE Well, you will temporize with the hours. In the meantime, good Signior Benedick, repair to Leonato's. Commend me to him, and tell him I will not fail him at supper, for indeed he hath made great preparation. BENEDICK I have almost matter enough in me for such an embassage, and so I commit you-- CLAUDIO To the tuition of God. From my house, if I had it-- PRINCE The sixth of July. Your loving friend, Benedick. BENEDICK Nay, mock not, mock not. The body of your discourse is sometimes guarded with fragments, and the guards are but slightly basted on neither. Ere you flout old ends any further, examine your conscience. And so I leave you. [He exits.] CLAUDIO My liege, your Highness now may do me good. PRINCE My love is thine to teach. Teach it but how, And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn Any hard lesson that may do thee good. CLAUDIO Hath Leonato any son, my lord? PRINCE No child but Hero; she's his only heir. Dost thou affect her, Claudio? CLAUDIO O, my lord, When you went onward on this ended action, I looked upon her with a soldier's eye, That liked, but had a rougher task in hand Than to drive liking to the name of love. But now I am returned and that war thoughts Have left their places vacant, in their rooms Come thronging soft and delicate desires, All prompting me how fair young Hero is, Saying I liked her ere I went to wars. PRINCE Thou wilt be like a lover presently And tire the hearer with a book of words. If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it, And I will break with her and with her father, And thou shalt have her. Was 't not to this end That thou began'st to twist so fine a story? CLAUDIO How sweetly you do minister to love, That know love's grief by his complexion! But lest my liking might too sudden seem, I would have salved it with a longer treatise. PRINCE What need the bridge much broader than the flood? The fairest grant is the necessity. Look what will serve is fit. 'Tis once, thou lovest, And I will fit thee with the remedy. I know we shall have reveling tonight. I will assume thy part in some disguise And tell fair Hero I am Claudio, And in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart And take her hearing prisoner with the force And strong encounter of my amorous tale. Then after to her father will I break, And the conclusion is, she shall be thine. In practice let us put it presently. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Leonato, meeting an old man, brother to Leonato.] LEONATO How now, brother, where is my cousin, your son? Hath he provided this music? LEONATO'S BROTHER He is very busy about it. But, brother, I can tell you strange news that you yet dreamt not of. LEONATO Are they good? LEONATO'S BROTHER As the events stamps them, but they have a good cover; they show well outward. The Prince and Count Claudio, walking in a thick-pleached alley in mine orchard, were thus much overheard by a man of mine: the Prince discovered to Claudio that he loved my niece your daughter and meant to acknowledge it this night in a dance, and if he found her accordant, he meant to take the present time by the top and instantly break with you of it. LEONATO Hath the fellow any wit that told you this? LEONATO'S BROTHER A good sharp fellow. I will send for him, and question him yourself. LEONATO No, no, we will hold it as a dream till it appear itself. But I will acquaint my daughter withal, that she may be the better prepared for an answer, if peradventure this be true. Go you and tell her of it. [Enter Antonio's son, with a Musician and Attendants.] Cousins, you know what you have to do.--O, I cry you mercy, friend. Go you with me and I will use your skill.--Good cousin, have a care this busy time. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Sir John the Bastard, and Conrade, his companion.] CONRADE What the goodyear, my lord, why are you thus out of measure sad? DON JOHN There is no measure in the occasion that breeds. Therefore the sadness is without limit. CONRADE You should hear reason. DON JOHN And when I have heard it, what blessing brings it? CONRADE If not a present remedy, at least a patient sufferance. DON JOHN I wonder that thou, being, as thou sayst thou art, born under Saturn, goest about to apply a moral medicine to a mortifying mischief. I cannot hide what I am. I must be sad when I have cause, and smile at no man's jests; eat when I have stomach, and wait for no man's leisure; sleep when I am drowsy, and tend on no man's business; laugh when I am merry, and claw no man in his humor. CONRADE Yea, but you must not make the full show of this till you may do it without controlment. You have of late stood out against your brother, and he hath ta'en you newly into his grace, where it is impossible you should take true root but by the fair weather that you make yourself. It is needful that you frame the season for your own harvest. DON JOHN I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose in his grace, and it better fits my blood to be disdained of all than to fashion a carriage to rob love from any. In this, though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man, it must not be denied but I am a plain-dealing villain. I am trusted with a muzzle and enfranchised with a clog; therefore I have decreed not to sing in my cage. If I had my mouth, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I would do my liking. In the meantime, let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me. CONRADE Can you make no use of your discontent? DON JOHN I make all use of it, for I use it only. Who comes here? [Enter Borachio.] What news, Borachio? BORACHIO I came yonder from a great supper. The Prince your brother is royally entertained by Leonato, and I can give you intelligence of an intended marriage. DON JOHN Will it serve for any model to build mischief on? What is he for a fool that betroths himself to unquietness? BORACHIO Marry, it is your brother's right hand. DON JOHN Who, the most exquisite Claudio? BORACHIO Even he. DON JOHN A proper squire. And who, and who? Which way looks he? BORACHIO Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of Leonato. DON JOHN A very forward March chick! How came you to this? BORACHIO Being entertained for a perfumer, as I was smoking a musty room, comes me the Prince and Claudio, hand in hand, in sad conference. I whipped me behind the arras, and there heard it agreed upon that the Prince should woo Hero for himself, and having obtained her, give her to Count Claudio. DON JOHN Come, come, let us thither. This may prove food to my displeasure. That young start-up hath all the glory of my overthrow. If I can cross him any way, I bless myself every way. You are both sure, and will assist me? CONRADE To the death, my lord. DON JOHN Let us to the great supper. Their cheer is the greater that I am subdued. Would the cook were o' my mind! Shall we go prove what's to be done? BORACHIO We'll wait upon your Lordship. [They exit.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Leonato, his brother, Hero his daughter, and Beatrice his niece, with Ursula and Margaret.] LEONATO Was not Count John here at supper? LEONATO'S BROTHER I saw him not. BEATRICE How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can see him but I am heartburned an hour after. HERO He is of a very melancholy disposition. BEATRICE He were an excellent man that were made just in the midway between him and Benedick. The one is too like an image and says nothing, and the other too like my lady's eldest son, evermore tattling. LEONATO Then half Signior Benedick's tongue in Count John's mouth, and half Count John's melancholy in Signior Benedick's face-- BEATRICE With a good leg and a good foot, uncle, and money enough in his purse, such a man would win any woman in the world if he could get her goodwill. LEONATO By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a husband if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue. LEONATO'S BROTHER In faith, she's too curst. BEATRICE Too curst is more than curst. I shall lessen God's sending that way, for it is said "God sends a curst cow short horns," but to a cow too curst, he sends none. LEONATO So, by being too curst, God will send you no horns. BEATRICE Just, if He send me no husband, for the which blessing I am at Him upon my knees every morning and evening. Lord, I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face. I had rather lie in the woolen! LEONATO You may light on a husband that hath no beard. BEATRICE What should I do with him? Dress him in my apparel and make him my waiting gentlewoman? He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man; and he that is more than a youth is not for me, and he that is less than a man, I am not for him. Therefore I will even take sixpence in earnest of the bearherd, and lead his apes into hell. LEONATO Well then, go you into hell? BEATRICE No, but to the gate, and there will the devil meet me like an old cuckold with horns on his head, and say "Get you to heaven, Beatrice, get you to heaven; here's no place for you maids." So deliver I up my apes and away to Saint Peter; for the heavens, he shows me where the bachelors sit, and there live we as merry as the day is long. LEONATO'S BROTHER, [to Hero] Well, niece, I trust you will be ruled by your father. BEATRICE Yes, faith, it is my cousin's duty to make curtsy and say "Father, as it please you." But yet for all that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make another curtsy and say "Father, as it please me." LEONATO Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband. BEATRICE Not till God make men of some other metal than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be overmastered with a piece of valiant dust? To make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl? No, uncle, I'll none. Adam's sons are my brethren, and truly I hold it a sin to match in my kindred. LEONATO, [to Hero] Daughter, remember what I told you. If the Prince do solicit you in that kind, you know your answer. BEATRICE The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be not wooed in good time. If the Prince be too important, tell him there is measure in everything, and so dance out the answer. For hear me, Hero, wooing, wedding, and repenting is as a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinquepace. The first suit is hot and hasty like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical; the wedding, mannerly modest as a measure, full of state and ancientry; and then comes repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinquepace faster and faster till he sink into his grave. LEONATO Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly. BEATRICE I have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church by daylight. LEONATO The revelers are entering, brother. Make good room. [Leonato and his brother step aside.] [Enter, with a Drum, Prince Pedro, Claudio, and Benedick, Signior Antonio, and Balthasar, all in masks, with Borachio and Don John.] PRINCE, [to Hero] Lady, will you walk a bout with your friend? [They begin to dance.] HERO So you walk softly, and look sweetly, and say nothing, I am yours for the walk, and especially when I walk away. PRINCE With me in your company? HERO I may say so when I please. PRINCE And when please you to say so? HERO When I like your favor, for God defend the lute should be like the case. PRINCE My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house is Jove. HERO Why, then, your visor should be thatched. PRINCE Speak low if you speak love. [They move aside; Benedick and Margaret move forward.] BENEDICK, [to Margaret] Well, I would you did like me. MARGARET So would not I for your own sake, for I have many ill qualities. BENEDICK Which is one? MARGARET I say my prayers aloud. BENEDICK I love you the better; the hearers may cry "Amen." MARGARET God match me with a good dancer. [They separate; Benedick moves aside; Balthasar moves forward.] BALTHASAR Amen. MARGARET And God keep him out of my sight when the dance is done. Answer, clerk. BALTHASAR No more words. The clerk is answered. [They move aside; Ursula and Antonio move forward.] URSULA I know you well enough. You are Signior Antonio. ANTONIO At a word, I am not. URSULA I know you by the waggling of your head. ANTONIO To tell you true, I counterfeit him. URSULA You could never do him so ill-well unless you were the very man. Here's his dry hand up and down. You are he, you are he. ANTONIO At a word, I am not. URSULA Come, come, do you think I do not know you by your excellent wit? Can virtue hide itself? Go to, mum, you are he. Graces will appear, and there's an end. [They move aside; Benedick and Beatrice move forward.] BEATRICE Will you not tell me who told you so? BENEDICK No, you shall pardon me. BEATRICE Nor will you not tell me who you are? BENEDICK Not now. BEATRICE That I was disdainful, and that I had my good wit out of The Hundred Merry Tales! Well, this was Signior Benedick that said so. BENEDICK What's he? BEATRICE I am sure you know him well enough. BENEDICK Not I, believe me. BEATRICE Did he never make you laugh? BENEDICK I pray you, what is he? BEATRICE Why, he is the Prince's jester, a very dull fool; only his gift is in devising impossible slanders. None but libertines delight in him, and the commendation is not in his wit but in his villainy, for he both pleases men and angers them, and then they laugh at him and beat him. I am sure he is in the fleet.I would he had boarded me. BENEDICK When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him what you say. BEATRICE Do, do. He'll but break a comparison or two on me, which peradventure not marked or not laughed at strikes him into melancholy, and then there's a partridge wing saved, for the fool will eat no supper that night. [Music for the dance.] We must follow the leaders. BENEDICK In every good thing. BEATRICE Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next turning. [Dance. Then exit all except Don John, Borachio, and Claudio.] DON JOHN, [to Borachio] Sure my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawn her father to break with him about it. The ladies follow her, and but one visor remains. BORACHIO And that is Claudio. I know him by his bearing. DON JOHN, [to Claudio] Are not you Signior Benedick? CLAUDIO You know me well. I am he. DON JOHN Signior, you are very near my brother in his love. He is enamored on Hero. I pray you dissuade him from her. She is no equal for his birth. You may do the part of an honest man in it. CLAUDIO How know you he loves her? DON JOHN I heard him swear his affection. BORACHIO So did I too, and he swore he would marry her tonight. DON JOHN Come, let us to the banquet. [They exit. Claudio remains.] CLAUDIO, [unmasking] Thus answer I in name of Benedick, But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio. 'Tis certain so. The Prince woos for himself. Friendship is constant in all other things Save in the office and affairs of love. Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues. Let every eye negotiate for itself And trust no agent, for beauty is a witch Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. This is an accident of hourly proof, Which I mistrusted not. Farewell therefore, Hero. [Enter Benedick.] BENEDICK Count Claudio? CLAUDIO Yea, the same. BENEDICK Come, will you go with me? CLAUDIO Whither? BENEDICK Even to the next willow, about your own business, county. What fashion will you wear the garland of? About your neck like an usurer's chain? Or under your arm like a lieutenant's scarf? You must wear it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero. CLAUDIO I wish him joy of her. BENEDICK Why, that's spoken like an honest drover; so they sell bullocks. But did you think the Prince would have served you thus? CLAUDIO I pray you, leave me. BENEDICK Ho, now you strike like the blind man. 'Twas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the post. CLAUDIO If it will not be, I'll leave you. [He exits.] BENEDICK Alas, poor hurt fowl, now will he creep into sedges. But that my Lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me! The Prince's fool! Ha, it may be I go under that title because I am merry. Yea, but so I am apt to do myself wrong. I am not so reputed! It is the base, though bitter, disposition of Beatrice that puts the world into her person and so gives me out. Well, I'll be revenged as I may. [Enter the Prince, Hero, and Leonato.] PRINCE Now, signior, where's the Count? Did you see him? BENEDICK Troth, my lord, I have played the part of Lady Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren. I told him, and I think I told him true, that your Grace had got the goodwill of this young lady, and I offered him my company to a willow tree, either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to bind him up a rod, as being worthy to be whipped. PRINCE To be whipped? What's his fault? BENEDICK The flat transgression of a schoolboy who, being overjoyed with finding a bird's nest, shows it his companion, and he steals it. PRINCE Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? The transgression is in the stealer. BENEDICK Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been made, and the garland too, for the garland he might have worn himself, and the rod he might have bestowed on you, who, as I take it, have stolen his bird's nest. PRINCE I will but teach them to sing and restore them to the owner. BENEDICK If their singing answer your saying, by my faith, you say honestly. PRINCE The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you. The gentleman that danced with her told her she is much wronged by you. BENEDICK O, she misused me past the endurance of a block! An oak but with one green leaf on it would have answered her. My very visor began to assume life and scold with her. She told me, not thinking I had been myself, that I was the Prince's jester, that I was duller than a great thaw, huddling jest upon jest with such impossible conveyance upon me that I stood like a man at a mark with a whole army shooting at me. She speaks poniards, and every word stabs. If her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her; she would infect to the North Star. I would not marry her though she were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgressed. She would have made Hercules have turned spit, yea, and have cleft his club to make the fire, too. Come, talk not of her. You shall find her the infernal Ate in good apparel. I would to God some scholar would conjure her, for certainly, while she is here, a man may live as quiet in hell as in a sanctuary, and people sin upon purpose because they would go thither. So indeed all disquiet, horror, and perturbation follows her. [Enter Claudio and Beatrice.] PRINCE Look, here she comes. BENEDICK Will your Grace command me any service to the world's end? I will go on the slightest errand now to the Antipodes that you can devise to send me on. I will fetch you a toothpicker now from the furthest inch of Asia, bring you the length of Prester John's foot, fetch you a hair off the great Cham's beard, do you any embassage to the Pygmies, rather than hold three words' conference with this harpy. You have no employment for me? PRINCE None but to desire your good company. BENEDICK O God, sir, here's a dish I love not! I cannot endure my Lady Tongue. [He exits.] PRINCE, [to Beatrice] Come, lady, come, you have lost the heart of Signior Benedick. BEATRICE Indeed, my lord, he lent it me awhile, and I gave him use for it, a double heart for his single one. Marry, once before he won it of me with false dice. Therefore your Grace may well say I have lost it. PRINCE You have put him down, lady, you have put him down. BEATRICE So I would not he should do me, my lord, lest I should prove the mother of fools. I have brought Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek. PRINCE Why, how now, count, wherefore are you sad? CLAUDIO Not sad, my lord. PRINCE How then, sick? CLAUDIO Neither, my lord. BEATRICE The Count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well, but civil count, civil as an orange, and something of that jealous complexion. PRINCE I' faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true, though I'll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false.--Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won. I have broke with her father and his goodwill obtained. Name the day of marriage, and God give thee joy. LEONATO Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes. His Grace hath made the match, and all grace say "Amen" to it. BEATRICE Speak, count, 'tis your cue. CLAUDIO Silence is the perfectest herald of joy. I were but little happy if I could say how much.--Lady, as you are mine, I am yours. I give away myself for you and dote upon the exchange. BEATRICE Speak, cousin, or, if you cannot, stop his mouth with a kiss and let not him speak neither. PRINCE In faith, lady, you have a merry heart. BEATRICE Yea, my lord. I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on the windy side of care. My cousin tells him in his ear that he is in her heart. CLAUDIO And so she doth, cousin. BEATRICE Good Lord for alliance! Thus goes everyone to the world but I, and I am sunburnt. I may sit in a corner and cry "Heigh-ho for a husband!" PRINCE Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. BEATRICE I would rather have one of your father's getting. Hath your Grace ne'er a brother like you? Your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them. PRINCE Will you have me, lady? BEATRICE No, my lord, unless I might have another for working days. Your Grace is too costly to wear every day. But I beseech your Grace pardon me. I was born to speak all mirth and no matter. PRINCE Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes you, for out o' question you were born in a merry hour. BEATRICE No, sure, my lord, my mother cried, but then there was a star danced, and under that was I born.--Cousins, God give you joy! LEONATO Niece, will you look to those things I told you of? BEATRICE I cry you mercy, uncle.--By your Grace's pardon. [Beatrice exits.] PRINCE By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady. LEONATO There's little of the melancholy element in her, my lord. She is never sad but when she sleeps, and not ever sad then, for I have heard my daughter say she hath often dreamt of unhappiness and waked herself with laughing. PRINCE She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband. LEONATO O, by no means. She mocks all her wooers out of suit. PRINCE She were an excellent wife for Benedick. LEONATO O Lord, my lord, if they were but a week married, they would talk themselves mad. PRINCE County Claudio, when mean you to go to church? CLAUDIO Tomorrow, my lord. Time goes on crutches till love have all his rites. LEONATO Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just sevennight, and a time too brief, too, to have all things answer my mind. PRINCE, [to Claudio] Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing, but I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us. I will in the interim undertake one of Hercules' labors, which is to bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection, th' one with th' other. I would fain have it a match, and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance as I shall give you direction. LEONATO My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights' watchings. CLAUDIO And I, my lord. PRINCE And you too, gentle Hero? HERO I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my cousin to a good husband. PRINCE And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that I know. Thus far can I praise him: he is of a noble strain, of approved valor, and confirmed honesty. I will teach you how to humor your cousin that she shall fall in love with Benedick.-- And I, with your two helps, will so practice on Benedick that, in despite of his quick wit and his queasy stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer; his glory shall be ours, for we are the only love gods. Go in with me, and I will tell you my drift. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Don John and Borachio.] DON JOHN It is so. The Count Claudio shall marry the daughter of Leonato. BORACHIO Yea, my lord, but I can cross it. DON JOHN Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be med'cinable to me. I am sick in displeasure to him, and whatsoever comes athwart his affection ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this marriage? BORACHIO Not honestly, my lord, but so covertly that no dishonesty shall appear in me. DON JOHN Show me briefly how. BORACHIO I think I told your Lordship a year since, how much I am in the favor of Margaret, the waiting gentlewoman to Hero. DON JOHN I remember. BORACHIO I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to look out at her lady's chamber window. DON JOHN What life is in that to be the death of this marriage? BORACHIO The poison of that lies in you to temper. Go you to the Prince your brother; spare not to tell him that he hath wronged his honor in marrying the renowned Claudio, whose estimation do you mightily hold up, to a contaminated stale, such a one as Hero. DON JOHN What proof shall I make of that? BORACHIO Proof enough to misuse the Prince, to vex Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato. Look you for any other issue? DON JOHN Only to despite them I will endeavor anything. BORACHIO Go then, find me a meet hour to draw Don Pedro and the Count Claudio alone. Tell them that you know that Hero loves me; intend a kind of zeal both to the Prince and Claudio, as in love of your brother's honor, who hath made this match, and his friend's reputation, who is thus like to be cozened with the semblance of a maid, that you have discovered thus. They will scarcely believe this without trial. Offer them instances, which shall bear no less likelihood than to see me at her chamber window, hear me call Margaret "Hero," hear Margaret term me "Claudio," and bring them to see this the very night before the intended wedding, for in the meantime I will so fashion the matter that Hero shall be absent, and there shall appear such seeming truth of Hero's disloyalty that jealousy shall be called assurance and all the preparation overthrown. DON JOHN Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I will put it in practice. Be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a thousand ducats. BORACHIO Be you constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not shame me. DON JOHN I will presently go learn their day of marriage. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Benedick alone.] BENEDICK Boy! [Enter Boy.] BOY Signior? BENEDICK In my chamber window lies a book. Bring it hither to me in the orchard. BOY I am here already, sir. BENEDICK I know that, but I would have thee hence and here again. [Boy exits.] I do much wonder that one man, seeing how much another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviors to love, will, after he hath laughed at such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his own scorn by falling in love--and such a man is Claudio. I have known when there was no music with him but the drum and the fife, and now had he rather hear the tabor and the pipe; I have known when he would have walked ten mile afoot to see a good armor, and now will he lie ten nights awake carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain and to the purpose, like an honest man and a soldier, and now is he turned orthography; his words are a very fantastical banquet, just so many strange dishes. May I be so converted and see with these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not. I will not be sworn but love may transform me to an oyster, but I'll take my oath on it, till he have made an oyster of me, he shall never make me such a fool. One woman is fair, yet I am well; another is wise, yet I am well; another virtuous, yet I am well; but till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she shall be, that's certain; wise, or I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her; fair, or I'll never look on her; mild, or come not near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what color it please God. Ha! The Prince and Monsieur Love! I will hide me in the arbor. [He hides.] [Enter Prince, Leonato, Claudio, and Balthasar with music.] PRINCE Come, shall we hear this music? CLAUDIO Yea, my good lord. How still the evening is, As hushed on purpose to grace harmony! PRINCE, [aside to Claudio] See you where Benedick hath hid himself? CLAUDIO, [aside to Prince] O, very well my lord. The music ended, We'll fit the kid-fox with a pennyworth. PRINCE Come, Balthasar, we'll hear that song again. BALTHASAR O, good my lord, tax not so bad a voice To slander music any more than once. PRINCE It is the witness still of excellency To put a strange face on his own perfection. I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more. BALTHASAR Because you talk of wooing, I will sing, Since many a wooer doth commence his suit To her he thinks not worthy, yet he woos, Yet will he swear he loves. PRINCE Nay, pray thee, come, Or if thou wilt hold longer argument, Do it in notes. BALTHASAR Note this before my notes: There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting. PRINCE Why, these are very crotchets that he speaks! Note notes, forsooth, and nothing. [Music plays.] BENEDICK, [aside] Now, divine air! Now is his soul ravished. Is it not strange that sheeps' guts should hale souls out of men's bodies? Well, a horn for my money, when all's done. BALTHASAR [sings] Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever, One foot in sea and one on shore, To one thing constant never. Then sigh not so, but let them go, And be you blithe and bonny, Converting all your sounds of woe Into Hey, nonny nonny. Sing no more ditties, sing no mo, Of dumps so dull and heavy. The fraud of men was ever so, Since summer first was leavy. Then sigh not so, but let them go, And be you blithe and bonny, Converting all your sounds of woe Into Hey, nonny nonny. PRINCE By my troth, a good song. BALTHASAR And an ill singer, my lord. PRINCE Ha, no, no, faith, thou sing'st well enough for a shift. BENEDICK, [aside] An he had been a dog that should have howled thus, they would have hanged him. And I pray God his bad voice bode no mischief. I had as lief have heard the night raven, come what plague could have come after it. PRINCE Yea, marry, dost thou hear, Balthasar? I pray thee get us some excellent music, for tomorrow night we would have it at the Lady Hero's chamber window. BALTHASAR The best I can, my lord. PRINCE Do so. Farewell. [Balthasar exits.] Come hither, Leonato. What was it you told me of today, that your niece Beatrice was in love with Signior Benedick? CLAUDIO O, ay. [Aside to Prince.] Stalk on, stalk on; the fowl sits.--I did never think that lady would have loved any man. LEONATO No, nor I neither, but most wonderful that she should so dote on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviors seemed ever to abhor. BENEDICK, [aside] Is 't possible? Sits the wind in that corner? LEONATO By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it, but that she loves him with an enraged affection, it is past the infinite of thought. PRINCE Maybe she doth but counterfeit. CLAUDIO Faith, like enough. LEONATO O God! Counterfeit? There was never counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion as she discovers it. PRINCE Why, what effects of passion shows she? CLAUDIO, [aside to Leonato] Bait the hook well; this fish will bite. LEONATO What effects, my lord? She will sit you--you heard my daughter tell you how. CLAUDIO She did indeed. PRINCE How, how I pray you? You amaze me. I would have thought her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection. LEONATO I would have sworn it had, my lord, especially against Benedick. BENEDICK, [aside] I should think this a gull but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it. Knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such reverence. CLAUDIO, [aside to Prince] He hath ta'en th' infection. Hold it up. PRINCE Hath she made her affection known to Benedick? LEONATO No, and swears she never will. That's her torment. CLAUDIO 'Tis true indeed, so your daughter says. "Shall I," says she, "that have so oft encountered him with scorn, write to him that I love him?" LEONATO This says she now when she is beginning to write to him, for she'll be up twenty times a night, and there will she sit in her smock till she have writ a sheet of paper. My daughter tells us all. CLAUDIO Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of. LEONATO O, when she had writ it and was reading it over, she found "Benedick" and "Beatrice" between the sheet? CLAUDIO That. LEONATO O, she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence, railed at herself that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would flout her. "I measure him," says she, "by my own spirit, for I should flout him if he writ to me, yea, though I love him, I should." CLAUDIO Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses: "O sweet Benedick, God give me patience!" LEONATO She doth indeed, my daughter says so, and the ecstasy hath so much overborne her that my daughter is sometimes afeared she will do a desperate outrage to herself. It is very true. PRINCE It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she will not discover it. CLAUDIO To what end? He would make but a sport of it and torment the poor lady worse. PRINCE An he should, it were an alms to hang him. She's an excellent sweet lady, and, out of all suspicion, she is virtuous. CLAUDIO And she is exceeding wise. PRINCE In everything but in loving Benedick. LEONATO O, my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one that blood hath the victory. I am sorry for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian. PRINCE I would she had bestowed this dotage on me. I would have daffed all other respects and made her half myself. I pray you tell Benedick of it, and hear what he will say. LEONATO Were it good, think you? CLAUDIO Hero thinks surely she will die, for she says she will die if he love her not, and she will die ere she make her love known, and she will die if he woo her rather than she will bate one breath of her accustomed crossness. PRINCE She doth well. If she should make tender of her love, 'tis very possible he'll scorn it, for the man, as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit. CLAUDIO He is a very proper man. PRINCE He hath indeed a good outward happiness. CLAUDIO Before God, and in my mind, very wise. PRINCE He doth indeed show some sparks that are like wit. CLAUDIO And I take him to be valiant. PRINCE As Hector, I assure you, and in the managing of quarrels you may say he is wise, for either he avoids them with great discretion or undertakes them with a most Christianlike fear. LEONATO If he do fear God, he must necessarily keep peace. If he break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling. PRINCE And so will he do, for the man doth fear God, howsoever it seems not in him by some large jests he will make. Well, I am sorry for your niece. Shall we go seek Benedick and tell him of her love? CLAUDIO Never tell him, my lord, let her wear it out with good counsel. LEONATO Nay, that's impossible; she may wear her heart out first. PRINCE Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter. Let it cool the while. I love Benedick well, and I could wish he would modestly examine himself to see how much he is unworthy so good a lady. LEONATO My lord, will you walk? Dinner is ready. [Leonato, Prince, and Claudio begin to exit.] CLAUDIO, [aside to Prince and Leonato] If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation. PRINCE, [aside to Leonato] Let there be the same net spread for her, and that must your daughter and her gentlewomen carry. The sport will be when they hold one an opinion of another's dotage, and no such matter. That's the scene that I would see, which will be merely a dumb show. Let us send her to call him in to dinner. [Prince, Leonato, and Claudio exit.] BENEDICK, [coming forward] This can be no trick. The conference was sadly borne; they have the truth of this from Hero; they seem to pity the lady. It seems her affections have their full bent. Love me? Why, it must be requited! I hear how I am censured. They say I will bear myself proudly if I perceive the love come from her. They say, too, that she will rather die than give any sign of affection. I did never think to marry. I must not seem proud. Happy are they that hear their detractions and can put them to mending. They say the lady is fair; 'tis a truth, I can bear them witness. And virtuous; 'tis so, I cannot reprove it. And wise, but for loving me; by my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her! I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me because I have railed so long against marriage, but doth not the appetite alter? A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the career of his humor? No! The world must be peopled. When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married. Here comes Beatrice. By this day, she's a fair lady. I do spy some marks of love in her. [Enter Beatrice.] BEATRICE Against my will, I am sent to bid you come in to dinner. BENEDICK Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. BEATRICE I took no more pains for those thanks than you take pains to thank me. If it had been painful, I would not have come. BENEDICK You take pleasure then in the message? BEATRICE Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife's point and choke a daw withal. You have no stomach, signior. Fare you well. [She exits.] BENEDICK Ha! "Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner." There's a double meaning in that. "I took no more pains for those thanks than you took pains to thank me." That's as much as to say "Any pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks." If I do not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I am a Jew. I will go get her picture. [He exits.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Hero and two gentlewomen, Margaret and Ursula.] HERO Good Margaret, run thee to the parlor. There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice Proposing with the Prince and Claudio. Whisper her ear and tell her I and Ursula Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse Is all of her. Say that thou overheardst us, And bid her steal into the pleached bower Where honeysuckles ripened by the sun Forbid the sun to enter, like favorites, Made proud by princes, that advance their pride Against that power that bred it. There will she hide her To listen our propose. This is thy office. Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone. MARGARET I'll make her come, I warrant you, presently. [She exits.] HERO Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come, As we do trace this alley up and down, Our talk must only be of Benedick. When I do name him, let it be thy part To praise him more than ever man did merit. My talk to thee must be how Benedick Is sick in love with Beatrice. Of this matter Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made, That only wounds by hearsay. Now begin, For look where Beatrice like a lapwing runs Close by the ground, to hear our conference. [Enter Beatrice, who hides in the bower.] URSULA, [aside to Hero] The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish Cut with her golden oars the silver stream And greedily devour the treacherous bait. So angle we for Beatrice, who even now Is couched in the woodbine coverture. Fear you not my part of the dialogue. HERO, [aside to Ursula] Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it.-- [They walk near the bower.] No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful. I know her spirits are as coy and wild As haggards of the rock. URSULA But are you sure That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely? HERO So says the Prince and my new-trothed lord. URSULA And did they bid you tell her of it, madam? HERO They did entreat me to acquaint her of it, But I persuaded them, if they loved Benedick, To wish him wrestle with affection And never to let Beatrice know of it. URSULA Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman Deserve as full as fortunate a bed As ever Beatrice shall couch upon? HERO O god of love! I know he doth deserve As much as may be yielded to a man, But Nature never framed a woman's heart Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice. Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, Misprizing what they look on, and her wit Values itself so highly that to her All matter else seems weak. She cannot love, Nor take no shape nor project of affection, She is so self-endeared. URSULA Sure, I think so, And therefore certainly it were not good She knew his love, lest she'll make sport at it. HERO Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man, How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featured, But she would spell him backward. If fair-faced, She would swear the gentleman should be her sister; If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antic, Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed; If low, an agate very vilely cut; If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds; If silent, why, a block moved with none. So turns she every man the wrong side out, And never gives to truth and virtue that Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. URSULA Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. HERO No, not to be so odd and from all fashions As Beatrice is cannot be commendable. But who dare tell her so? If I should speak, She would mock me into air. O, she would laugh me Out of myself, press me to death with wit. Therefore let Benedick, like covered fire, Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly. It were a better death than die with mocks, Which is as bad as die with tickling. URSULA Yet tell her of it. Hear what she will say. HERO No, rather I will go to Benedick And counsel him to fight against his passion; And truly I'll devise some honest slanders To stain my cousin with. One doth not know How much an ill word may empoison liking. URSULA O, do not do your cousin such a wrong! She cannot be so much without true judgment, Having so swift and excellent a wit As she is prized to have, as to refuse So rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick. HERO He is the only man of Italy, Always excepted my dear Claudio. URSULA I pray you be not angry with me, madam, Speaking my fancy: Signior Benedick, For shape, for bearing, argument, and valor, Goes foremost in report through Italy. HERO Indeed, he hath an excellent good name. URSULA His excellence did earn it ere he had it. When are you married, madam? HERO Why, every day, tomorrow. Come, go in. I'll show thee some attires and have thy counsel Which is the best to furnish me tomorrow. [They move away from the bower.] URSULA, [aside to Hero] She's limed, I warrant you. We have caught her, madam. HERO, [aside to Ursula] If it prove so, then loving goes by haps; Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. [Hero and Ursula exit.] BEATRICE, [coming forward] What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true? Stand I condemned for pride and scorn so much? Contempt, farewell, and maiden pride, adieu! No glory lives behind the back of such. And Benedick, love on; I will requite thee, Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand. If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee To bind our loves up in a holy band. For others say thou dost deserve, and I Believe it better than reportingly. [She exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Prince, Claudio, Benedick, and Leonato.] PRINCE I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, and then go I toward Aragon. CLAUDIO I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe me. PRINCE Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage as to show a child his new coat and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his company, for from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot he is all mirth. He hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bowstring, and the little hangman dare not shoot at him. He hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper, for what his heart thinks, his tongue speaks. BENEDICK Gallants, I am not as I have been. LEONATO So say I. Methinks you are sadder. CLAUDIO I hope he be in love. PRINCE Hang him, truant! There's no true drop of blood in him to be truly touched with love. If he be sad, he wants money. BENEDICK I have the toothache. PRINCE Draw it. BENEDICK Hang it! CLAUDIO You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards. PRINCE What, sigh for the toothache? LEONATO Where is but a humor or a worm. BENEDICK Well, everyone can master a grief but he that has it. CLAUDIO Yet say I, he is in love. PRINCE There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises, as to be a Dutchman today, a Frenchman tomorrow, or in the shape of two countries at once, as a German from the waist downward, all slops, and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet. Unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would have it appear he is. CLAUDIO If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing old signs. He brushes his hat o' mornings. What should that bode? PRINCE Hath any man seen him at the barber's? CLAUDIO No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him, and the old ornament of his cheek hath already stuffed tennis balls. LEONATO Indeed he looks younger than he did, by the loss of a beard. PRINCE Nay, he rubs himself with civet. Can you smell him out by that? CLAUDIO That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's in love. PRINCE The greatest note of it is his melancholy. CLAUDIO And when was he wont to wash his face? PRINCE Yea, or to paint himself? For the which I hear what they say of him. CLAUDIO Nay, but his jesting spirit, which is now crept into a lute string and now governed by stops-- PRINCE Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him. Conclude, conclude, he is in love. CLAUDIO Nay, but I know who loves him. PRINCE That would I know, too. I warrant, one that knows him not. CLAUDIO Yes, and his ill conditions; and, in despite of all, dies for him. PRINCE She shall be buried with her face upwards. BENEDICK Yet is this no charm for the toothache.-- Old signior, walk aside with me. I have studied eight or nine wise words to speak to you, which these hobby-horses must not hear. [Benedick and Leonato exit.] PRINCE For my life, to break with him about Beatrice! CLAUDIO 'Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this played their parts with Beatrice, and then the two bears will not bite one another when they meet. [Enter John the Bastard.] DON JOHN My lord and brother, God save you. PRINCE Good e'en, brother. DON JOHN If your leisure served, I would speak with you. PRINCE In private? DON JOHN If it please you. Yet Count Claudio may hear, for what I would speak of concerns him. PRINCE What's the matter? DON JOHN, [to Claudio] Means your Lordship to be married tomorrow? PRINCE You know he does. DON JOHN I know not that, when he knows what I know. CLAUDIO If there be any impediment, I pray you discover it. DON JOHN You may think I love you not. Let that appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that I now will manifest. For my brother, I think he holds you well, and in dearness of heart hath holp to effect your ensuing marriage--surely suit ill spent and labor ill bestowed. PRINCE Why, what's the matter? DON JOHN I came hither to tell you; and, circumstances shortened, for she has been too long a-talking of, the lady is disloyal. CLAUDIO Who, Hero? DON JOHN Even she: Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every man's Hero. CLAUDIO Disloyal? DON JOHN The word is too good to paint out her wickedness. I could say she were worse. Think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it. Wonder not till further warrant. Go but with me tonight, you shall see her chamber window entered, even the night before her wedding day. If you love her then, tomorrow wed her. But it would better fit your honor to change your mind. CLAUDIO, [to Prince] May this be so? PRINCE I will not think it. DON JOHN If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you know. If you will follow me, I will show you enough, and when you have seen more and heard more, proceed accordingly. CLAUDIO If I see anything tonight why I should not marry her, tomorrow in the congregation, where I should wed, there will I shame her. PRINCE And as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to disgrace her. DON JOHN I will disparage her no farther till you are my witnesses. Bear it coldly but till midnight, and let the issue show itself. PRINCE O day untowardly turned! CLAUDIO O mischief strangely thwarting! DON JOHN O plague right well prevented! So will you say when you have seen the sequel. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Dogberry and his compartner Verges with the Watch.] DOGBERRY Are you good men and true? VERGES Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer salvation, body and soul. DOGBERRY Nay, that were a punishment too good for them if they should have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the Prince's watch. VERGES Well, give them their charge, neighbor Dogberry. DOGBERRY First, who think you the most desartless man to be constable? FIRST WATCHMAN Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal, for they can write and read. DOGBERRY Come hither, neighbor Seacoal. [Seacoal steps forward.] God hath blessed you with a good name. To be a well-favored man is the gift of fortune, but to write and read comes by nature. SEACOAL Both which, master constable-- DOGBERRY You have. I knew it would be your answer. Well, for your favor, sir, why, give God thanks, and make no boast of it, and for your writing and reading, let that appear when there is no need of such vanity. You are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for the constable of the watch; therefore bear you the lantern. This is your charge: you shall comprehend all vagrom men; you are to bid any man stand, in the Prince's name. SEACOAL How if he will not stand? DOGBERRY Why, then, take no note of him, but let him go, and presently call the rest of the watch together and thank God you are rid of a knave. VERGES If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the Prince's subjects. DOGBERRY True, and they are to meddle with none but the Prince's subjects.--You shall also make no noise in the streets; for, for the watch to babble and to talk is most tolerable and not to be endured. SECOND WATCHMAN We will rather sleep than talk. We know what belongs to a watch. DOGBERRY Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet watchman, for I cannot see how sleeping should offend; only have a care that your bills be not stolen. Well, you are to call at all the alehouses and bid those that are drunk get them to bed. SEACOAL How if they will not? DOGBERRY Why then, let them alone till they are sober. If they make you not then the better answer, you may say they are not the men you took them for. SEACOAL Well, sir. DOGBERRY If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by virtue of your office, to be no true man, and for such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with them, why, the more is for your honesty. SEACOAL If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on him? DOGBERRY Truly, by your office you may, but I think they that touch pitch will be defiled. The most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is to let him show himself what he is and steal out of your company. VERGES You have been always called a merciful man, partner. DOGBERRY Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath any honesty in him. VERGES, [to the Watch] If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the nurse and bid her still it. SECOND WATCHMAN How if the nurse be asleep and will not hear us? DOGBERRY Why, then depart in peace, and let the child wake her with crying, for the ewe that will not hear her lamb when it baas will never answer a calf when he bleats. VERGES 'Tis very true. DOGBERRY This is the end of the charge. You, constable, are to present the Prince's own person. If you meet the Prince in the night, you may stay him. VERGES Nay, by 'r Lady, that I think he cannot. DOGBERRY Five shillings to one on 't, with any man that knows the statutes, he may stay him--marry, not without the Prince be willing, for indeed the watch ought to offend no man, and it is an offense to stay a man against his will. VERGES By 'r Lady, I think it be so. DOGBERRY Ha, ah ha!--Well, masters, goodnight. An there be any matter of weight chances, call up me. Keep your fellows' counsels and your own, and goodnight.--Come, neighbor. [Dogberry and Verges begin to exit.] SEACOAL Well, masters, we hear our charge. Let us go sit here upon the church bench till two, and then all to bed. DOGBERRY One word more, honest neighbors. I pray you watch about Signior Leonato's door, for the wedding being there tomorrow, there is a great coil tonight. Adieu, be vigitant, I beseech you. [Dogberry and Verges exit.] [Enter Borachio and Conrade.] BORACHIO What, Conrade! SEACOAL, [aside] Peace, stir not. BORACHIO Conrade, I say! CONRADE Here, man, I am at thy elbow. BORACHIO Mass, and my elbow itched, I thought there would a scab follow. CONRADE I will owe thee an answer for that. And now forward with thy tale. BORACHIO Stand thee close, then, under this penthouse, for it drizzles rain, and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee. SEACOAL, [aside] Some treason, masters. Yet stand close. BORACHIO Therefore know, I have earned of Don John a thousand ducats. CONRADE Is it possible that any villainy should be so dear? BORACHIO Thou shouldst rather ask if it were possible any villainy should be so rich. For when rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will. CONRADE I wonder at it. BORACHIO That shows thou art unconfirmed. Thou knowest that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak, is nothing to a man. CONRADE Yes, it is apparel. BORACHIO I mean the fashion. CONRADE Yes, the fashion is the fashion. BORACHIO Tush, I may as well say the fool's the fool. But seest thou not what a deformed thief this fashion is? FIRST WATCHMAN, [aside] I know that Deformed. He has been a vile thief this seven year. He goes up and down like a gentleman. I remember his name. BORACHIO Didst thou not hear somebody? CONRADE No, 'twas the vane on the house. BORACHIO Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this fashion is, how giddily he turns about all the hot bloods between fourteen and five-and-thirty, sometimes fashioning them like Pharaoh's soldiers in the reechy painting, sometimes like god Bel's priests in the old church window, sometimes like the shaven Hercules in the smirched worm-eaten tapestry, where his codpiece seems as massy as his club? CONRADE All this I see, and I see that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man. But art not thou thyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion? BORACHIO Not so, neither. But know that I have tonight wooed Margaret, the Lady Hero's gentlewoman, by the name of Hero. She leans me out at her mistress' chamber window, bids me a thousand times goodnight. I tell this tale vilely. I should first tell thee how the Prince, Claudio, and my master, planted and placed and possessed by my master Don John, saw afar off in the orchard this amiable amiable encounter. CONRADE And thought they Margaret was Hero? BORACHIO Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio, but the devil my master knew she was Margaret; and partly by his oaths, which first possessed them, partly by the dark night, which did deceive them, but chiefly by my villainy, which did confirm any slander that Don John had made, away went Claudio enraged, swore he would meet her as he was appointed next morning at the temple, and there, before the whole congregation, shame her with what he saw o'ernight and send her home again without a husband. FIRST WATCHMAN We charge you in the Prince's name stand! SEACOAL Call up the right Master Constable. [Second Watchman exits.] We have here recovered the most dangerous piece of lechery that ever was known in the commonwealth. FIRST WATCHMAN And one Deformed is one of them. I know him; he wears a lock. [Enter Dogberry, Verges, and Second Watchman.] DOGBERRY Masters, masters-- FIRST WATCHMAN, [to Borachio] You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you. DOGBERRY, [to Borachio and Conrade] Masters, never speak, we charge you, let us obey you to go with us. BORACHIO, [to Conrade] We are like to prove a goodly commodity, being taken up of these men's bills. CONRADE A commodity in question, I warrant you.-- Come, we'll obey you. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Hero, and Margaret, and Ursula.] HERO Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice and desire her to rise. URSULA I will, lady. HERO And bid her come hither. URSULA Well. [Ursula exits.] MARGARET Troth, I think your other rebato were better. HERO No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this. MARGARET By my troth, 's not so good, and I warrant your cousin will say so. HERO My cousin's a fool, and thou art another. I'll wear none but this. MARGARET I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner; and your gown's a most rare fashion, i' faith. I saw the Duchess of Milan's gown that they praise so. HERO O, that exceeds, they say. MARGARET By my troth, 's but a nightgown in respect of yours--cloth o' gold, and cuts, and laced with silver, set with pearls, down sleeves, side sleeves, and skirts round underborne with a bluish tinsel. But for a fine, quaint, graceful, and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on 't. HERO God give me joy to wear it, for my heart is exceeding heavy. MARGARET 'Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man. HERO Fie upon thee! Art not ashamed? MARGARET Of what, lady? Of speaking honorably? Is not marriage honorable in a beggar? Is not your lord honorable without marriage? I think you would have me say "Saving your reverence, a husband." An bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, I'll offend nobody. Is there any harm in "the heavier for a husband"? None, I think, an it be the right husband and the right wife. Otherwise, 'tis light and not heavy. Ask my lady Beatrice else. Here she comes. [Enter Beatrice.] HERO Good morrow, coz. BEATRICE Good morrow, sweet Hero. HERO Why, how now? Do you speak in the sick tune? BEATRICE I am out of all other tune, methinks. MARGARET Clap 's into "Light o' love." That goes without a burden. Do you sing it, and I'll dance it. BEATRICE You light o' love with your heels! Then, if your husband have stables enough, you'll see he shall lack no barns. MARGARET O, illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels. BEATRICE 'Tis almost five o'clock, cousin. 'Tis time you were ready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill. Heigh-ho! MARGARET For a hawk, a horse, or a husband? BEATRICE For the letter that begins them all, H. MARGARET Well, an you be not turned Turk, there's no more sailing by the star. BEATRICE What means the fool, trow? MARGARET Nothing, I; but God send everyone their heart's desire. HERO These gloves the Count sent me, they are an excellent perfume. BEATRICE I am stuffed, cousin. I cannot smell. MARGARET A maid, and stuffed! There's goodly catching of cold. BEATRICE O, God help me, God help me! How long have you professed apprehension? MARGARET Ever since you left it. Doth not my wit become me rarely? BEATRICE It is not seen enough; you should wear it in your cap. By my troth, I am sick. MARGARET Get you some of this distilled carduus benedictus and lay it to your heart. It is the only thing for a qualm. HERO There thou prick'st her with a thistle. BEATRICE Benedictus! Why benedictus? You have some moral in this benedictus? MARGARET Moral? No, by my troth, I have no moral meaning; I meant plain holy thistle. You may think perchance that I think you are in love. Nay, by 'r Lady, I am not such a fool to think what I list, nor I list not to think what I can, nor indeed I cannot think, if I would think my heart out of thinking, that you are in love or that you will be in love or that you can be in love. Yet Benedick was such another, and now is he become a man. He swore he would never marry, and yet now, in despite of his heart, he eats his meat without grudging. And how you may be converted I know not, but methinks you look with your eyes as other women do. BEATRICE What pace is this that thy tongue keeps? MARGARET Not a false gallop. [Enter Ursula.] URSULA Madam, withdraw. The Prince, the Count, Signior Benedick, Don John, and all the gallants of the town are come to fetch you to church. HERO Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Leonato, and Dogberry, the Constable, and Verges, the Headborough.] LEONATO What would you with me, honest neighbor? DOGBERRY Marry, sir, I would have some confidence with you that decerns you nearly. LEONATO Brief, I pray you, for you see it is a busy time with me. DOGBERRY Marry, this it is, sir. VERGES Yes, in truth, it is, sir. LEONATO What is it, my good friends? DOGBERRY Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off the matter. An old man, sir, and his wits are not so blunt as, God help, I would desire they were, but, in faith, honest as the skin between his brows. VERGES Yes, I thank God I am as honest as any man living that is an old man and no honester than I. DOGBERRY Comparisons are odorous. Palabras, neighbor Verges. LEONATO Neighbors, you are tedious. DOGBERRY It pleases your Worship to say so, but we are the poor duke's officers. But truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a king, I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your Worship. LEONATO All thy tediousness on me, ah? DOGBERRY Yea, an 'twere a thousand pound more than 'tis, for I hear as good exclamation on your Worship as of any man in the city, and though I be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it. VERGES And so am I. LEONATO I would fain know what you have to say. VERGES Marry, sir, our watch tonight, excepting your Worship's presence, ha' ta'en a couple of as arrant knaves as any in Messina. DOGBERRY A good old man, sir. He will be talking. As they say, "When the age is in, the wit is out." God help us, it is a world to see!--Well said, i' faith, neighbor Verges.--Well, God's a good man. An two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind. An honest soul, i' faith, sir, by my troth he is, as ever broke bread, but God is to be worshiped, all men are not alike, alas, good neighbor. LEONATO Indeed, neighbor, he comes too short of you. DOGBERRY Gifts that God gives. LEONATO I must leave you. DOGBERRY One word, sir. Our watch, sir, have indeed comprehended two aspicious persons, and we would have them this morning examined before your Worship. LEONATO Take their examination yourself and bring it me. I am now in great haste, as it may appear unto you. DOGBERRY It shall be suffigance. LEONATO Drink some wine ere you go. Fare you well. [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter to her husband. LEONATO I'll wait upon them. I am ready. [He exits, with the Messenger.] DOGBERRY Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis Seacoal. Bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the jail. We are now to examination these men. VERGES And we must do it wisely. DOGBERRY We will spare for no wit, I warrant you. Here's that shall drive some of them to a noncome. Only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication and meet me at the jail. [They exit.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Prince, John the Bastard, Leonato, Friar, Claudio, Benedick, Hero, and Beatrice, with Attendants.] LEONATO Come, Friar Francis, be brief, only to the plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties afterwards. FRIAR, [to Claudio] You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady? CLAUDIO No. LEONATO To be married to her.--Friar, you come to marry her. FRIAR Lady, you come hither to be married to this count? HERO I do. FRIAR If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conjoined, I charge you on your souls to utter it. CLAUDIO Know you any, Hero? HERO None, my lord. FRIAR Know you any, count? LEONATO I dare make his answer, none. CLAUDIO O, what men dare do! What men may do! What men daily do, not knowing what they do! BENEDICK How now, interjections? Why, then, some be of laughing, as ah, ha, he! CLAUDIO Stand thee by, friar.--Father, by your leave, Will you with free and unconstrained soul Give me this maid, your daughter? LEONATO As freely, son, as God did give her me. CLAUDIO And what have I to give you back whose worth May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? PRINCE Nothing, unless you render her again. CLAUDIO Sweet prince, you learn me noble thankfulness.-- There, Leonato, take her back again. Give not this rotten orange to your friend. She's but the sign and semblance of her honor. Behold how like a maid she blushes here! O, what authority and show of truth Can cunning sin cover itself withal! Comes not that blood as modest evidence To witness simple virtue? Would you not swear, All you that see her, that she were a maid, By these exterior shows? But she is none. She knows the heat of a luxurious bed. Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. LEONATO What do you mean, my lord? CLAUDIO Not to be married, Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton. LEONATO Dear my lord, if you in your own proof Have vanquished the resistance of her youth, And made defeat of her virginity-- CLAUDIO I know what you would say: if I have known her, You will say she did embrace me as a husband, And so extenuate the forehand sin. No, Leonato, I never tempted her with word too large, But, as a brother to his sister, showed Bashful sincerity and comely love. HERO And seemed I ever otherwise to you? CLAUDIO Out on thee, seeming! I will write against it. You seem to me as Dian in her orb, As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown. But you are more intemperate in your blood Than Venus, or those pampered animals That rage in savage sensuality. HERO Is my lord well that he doth speak so wide? LEONATO Sweet prince, why speak not you? PRINCE What should I speak? I stand dishonored that have gone about To link my dear friend to a common stale. LEONATO Are these things spoken, or do I but dream? DON JOHN Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. BENEDICK This looks not like a nuptial. HERO True! O God! CLAUDIO Leonato, stand I here? Is this the Prince? Is this the Prince's brother? Is this face Hero's? Are our eyes our own? LEONATO All this is so, but what of this, my lord? CLAUDIO Let me but move one question to your daughter, And by that fatherly and kindly power That you have in her, bid her answer truly. LEONATO I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. HERO O, God defend me, how am I beset!-- What kind of catechizing call you this? CLAUDIO To make you answer truly to your name. HERO Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name With any just reproach? CLAUDIO Marry, that can Hero! Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue. What man was he talked with you yesternight Out at your window betwixt twelve and one? Now, if you are a maid, answer to this. HERO I talked with no man at that hour, my lord. PRINCE Why, then, are you no maiden.--Leonato, I am sorry you must hear. Upon mine honor, Myself, my brother, and this grieved count Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night Talk with a ruffian at her chamber window, Who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain, Confessed the vile encounters they have had A thousand times in secret. DON JOHN Fie, fie, they are not to be named, my lord, Not to be spoke of! There is not chastity enough in language, Without offense, to utter them.--Thus, pretty lady, I am sorry for thy much misgovernment. CLAUDIO O Hero, what a Hero hadst thou been If half thy outward graces had been placed About thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart! But fare thee well, most foul, most fair. Farewell, Thou pure impiety and impious purity. For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang, To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm, And never shall it more be gracious. LEONATO Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? [Hero falls.] BEATRICE Why, how now, cousin, wherefore sink you down? DON JOHN Come, let us go. These things, come thus to light, Smother her spirits up. [Claudio, Prince, and Don John exit.] BENEDICK How doth the lady? BEATRICE Dead, I think.--Help, uncle!-- Hero, why Hero! Uncle! Signior Benedick! Friar! LEONATO O Fate, take not away thy heavy hand! Death is the fairest cover for her shame That may be wished for. BEATRICE How now, cousin Hero? [Hero stirs.] FRIAR, [to Hero] Have comfort, lady. LEONATO, [to Hero] Dost thou look up? FRIAR Yea, wherefore should she not? LEONATO Wherefore? Why, doth not every earthly thing Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny The story that is printed in her blood?-- Do not live, Hero, do not ope thine eyes, For, did I think thou wouldst not quickly die, Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames, Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches, Strike at thy life. Grieved I I had but one? Chid I for that at frugal Nature's frame? O, one too much by thee! Why had I one? Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes? Why had I not with charitable hand Took up a beggar's issue at my gates, Who, smirched thus, and mired with infamy, I might have said "No part of it is mine; This shame derives itself from unknown loins"? But mine, and mine I loved, and mine I praised, And mine that I was proud on, mine so much That I myself was to myself not mine, Valuing of her--why she, O she, is fall'n Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea Hath drops too few to wash her clean again, And salt too little which may season give To her foul tainted flesh! BENEDICK Sir, sir, be patient. For my part, I am so attired in wonder I know not what to say. BEATRICE O, on my soul, my cousin is belied! BENEDICK Lady, were you her bedfellow last night? BEATRICE No, truly not, although until last night I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. LEONATO Confirmed, confirmed! O, that is stronger made Which was before barred up with ribs of iron! Would the two princes lie and Claudio lie, Who loved her so that, speaking of her foulness, Washed it with tears? Hence from her. Let her die! FRIAR Hear me a little, For I have only silent been so long, And given way unto this course of fortune, By noting of the lady. I have marked A thousand blushing apparitions To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames In angel whiteness beat away those blushes, And in her eye there hath appeared a fire To burn the errors that these princes hold Against her maiden truth. Call me a fool, Trust not my reading nor my observations, Which with experimental seal doth warrant The tenor of my book; trust not my age, My reverence, calling, nor divinity, If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here Under some biting error. LEONATO Friar, it cannot be. Thou seest that all the grace that she hath left Is that she will not add to her damnation A sin of perjury. She not denies it. Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse That which appears in proper nakedness? FRIAR Lady, what man is he you are accused of? HERO They know that do accuse me. I know none. If I know more of any man alive Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, Let all my sins lack mercy!--O my father, Prove you that any man with me conversed At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight Maintained the change of words with any creature, Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death! FRIAR There is some strange misprision in the princes. BENEDICK Two of them have the very bent of honor, And if their wisdoms be misled in this, The practice of it lives in John the Bastard, Whose spirits toil in frame of villainies. LEONATO I know not. If they speak but truth of her, These hands shall tear her. If they wrong her honor, The proudest of them shall well hear of it. Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, Nor age so eat up my invention, Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, But they shall find, awaked in such a kind, Both strength of limb and policy of mind, Ability in means and choice of friends, To quit me of them throughly. FRIAR Pause awhile, And let my counsel sway you in this case. Your daughter here the princes left for dead. Let her awhile be secretly kept in, And publish it that she is dead indeed. Maintain a mourning ostentation, And on your family's old monument Hang mournful epitaphs and do all rites That appertain unto a burial. LEONATO What shall become of this? What will this do? FRIAR Marry, this well carried shall on her behalf Change slander to remorse. That is some good. But not for that dream I on this strange course, But on this travail look for greater birth. She, dying, as it must be so maintained, Upon the instant that she was accused, Shall be lamented, pitied, and excused Of every hearer. For it so falls out That what we have we prize not to the worth Whiles we enjoy it, but being lacked and lost, Why then we rack the value, then we find The virtue that possession would not show us Whiles it was ours. So will it fare with Claudio. When he shall hear she died upon his words, Th' idea of her life shall sweetly creep Into his study of imagination, And every lovely organ of her life Shall come appareled in more precious habit, More moving, delicate, and full of life, Into the eye and prospect of his soul, Than when she lived indeed. Then shall he mourn, If ever love had interest in his liver, And wish he had not so accused her, No, though he thought his accusation true. Let this be so, and doubt not but success Will fashion the event in better shape Than I can lay it down in likelihood. But if all aim but this be leveled false, The supposition of the lady's death Will quench the wonder of her infamy. And if it sort not well, you may conceal her, As best befits her wounded reputation, In some reclusive and religious life, Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries. BENEDICK Signior Leonato, let the Friar advise you. And though you know my inwardness and love Is very much unto the Prince and Claudio, Yet, by mine honor, I will deal in this As secretly and justly as your soul Should with your body. LEONATO Being that I flow in grief, The smallest twine may lead me. FRIAR 'Tis well consented. Presently away, For to strange sores strangely they strain the cure.-- Come, lady, die to live. This wedding day Perhaps is but prolonged. Have patience and endure. [All but Beatrice and Benedick exit.] BENEDICK Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while? BEATRICE Yea, and I will weep a while longer. BENEDICK I will not desire that. BEATRICE You have no reason. I do it freely. BENEDICK Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged. BEATRICE Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her! BENEDICK Is there any way to show such friendship? BEATRICE A very even way, but no such friend. BENEDICK May a man do it? BEATRICE It is a man's office, but not yours. BENEDICK I do love nothing in the world so well as you. Is not that strange? BEATRICE As strange as the thing I know not. It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing so well as you, but believe me not, and yet I lie not; I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin. BENEDICK By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me! BEATRICE Do not swear and eat it. BENEDICK I will swear by it that you love me, and I will make him eat it that says I love not you. BEATRICE Will you not eat your word? BENEDICK With no sauce that can be devised to it. I protest I love thee. BEATRICE Why then, God forgive me. BENEDICK What offense, sweet Beatrice? BEATRICE You have stayed me in a happy hour. I was about to protest I loved you. BENEDICK And do it with all thy heart. BEATRICE I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest. BENEDICK Come, bid me do anything for thee. BEATRICE Kill Claudio. BENEDICK Ha! Not for the wide world. BEATRICE You kill me to deny it. Farewell. [She begins to exit.] BENEDICK Tarry, sweet Beatrice. BEATRICE I am gone, though I am here. There is no love in you. Nay, I pray you let me go. BENEDICK Beatrice-- BEATRICE In faith, I will go. BENEDICK We'll be friends first. BEATRICE You dare easier be friends with me than fight with mine enemy. BENEDICK Is Claudio thine enemy? BEATRICE Is he not approved in the height a villain that hath slandered, scorned, dishonored my kinswoman? O, that I were a man! What, bear her in hand until they come to take hands, and then, with public accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancor--O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the marketplace. BENEDICK Hear me, Beatrice-- BEATRICE Talk with a man out at a window! A proper saying. BENEDICK Nay, but Beatrice-- BEATRICE Sweet Hero, she is wronged, she is slandered, she is undone. BENEDICK Beat-- BEATRICE Princes and counties! Surely a princely testimony, a goodly count, Count Comfect, a sweet gallant, surely! O, that I were a man for his sake! Or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! But manhood is melted into curtsies, valor into compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and trim ones, too. He is now as valiant as Hercules that only tells a lie and swears it. I cannot be a man with wishing; therefore I will die a woman with grieving. BENEDICK Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love thee. BEATRICE Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it. BENEDICK Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wronged Hero? BEATRICE Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul. BENEDICK Enough, I am engaged. I will challenge him. I will kiss your hand, and so I leave you. By this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account. As you hear of me, so think of me. Go comfort your cousin. I must say she is dead, and so farewell. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter the Constables Dogberry and Verges, and the Town Clerk, or Sexton, in gowns, with the Watch, Conrade, and Borachio.] DOGBERRY Is our whole dissembly appeared? VERGES O, a stool and a cushion for the Sexton. [A stool is brought in; the Sexton sits.] SEXTON Which be the malefactors? DOGBERRY Marry, that am I, and my partner. VERGES Nay, that's certain, we have the exhibition to examine. SEXTON But which are the offenders that are to be examined? Let them come before Master Constable. DOGBERRY Yea, marry, let them come before me. [Conrade and Borachio are brought forward.] What is your name, friend? BORACHIO Borachio. DOGBERRY Pray, write down "Borachio."--Yours, sirrah? CONRADE I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade. DOGBERRY Write down "Master Gentleman Conrade."-- Masters, do you serve God? BORACHIO/CONRADE Yea, sir, we hope. DOGBERRY Write down that they hope they serve God; and write God first, for God defend but God should go before such villains!--Masters, it is proved already that you are little better than false knaves, and it will go near to be thought so shortly. How answer you for yourselves? CONRADE Marry, sir, we say we are none. DOGBERRY A marvelous witty fellow, I assure you, but I will go about with him.--Come you hither, sirrah, a word in your ear. Sir, I say to you it is thought you are false knaves. BORACHIO Sir, I say to you we are none. DOGBERRY Well, stand aside.--'Fore God, they are both in a tale. Have you writ down that they are none? SEXTON Master constable, you go not the way to examine. You must call forth the watch that are their accusers. DOGBERRY Yea, marry, that's the eftest way.--Let the watch come forth. Masters, I charge you in the Prince's name, accuse these men. FIRST WATCHMAN This man said, sir, that Don John, the Prince's brother, was a villain. DOGBERRY Write down Prince John a villain. Why, this is flat perjury, to call a prince's brother villain! BORACHIO Master constable-- DOGBERRY Pray thee, fellow, peace. I do not like thy look, I promise thee. SEXTON, [to Watch] What heard you him say else? SEACOAL Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats of Don John for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully. DOGBERRY Flat burglary as ever was committed. VERGES Yea, by Mass, that it is. SEXTON What else, fellow? FIRST WATCHMAN And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her. DOGBERRY, [to Borachio] O, villain! Thou wilt be condemned into everlasting redemption for this! SEXTON What else? SEACOAL This is all. SEXTON And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Prince John is this morning secretly stolen away. Hero was in this manner accused, in this very manner refused, and upon the grief of this suddenly died.--Master constable, let these men be bound and brought to Leonato's. I will go before and show him their examination. [He exits.] DOGBERRY Come, let them be opinioned. VERGES Let them be in the hands-- CONRADE Off, coxcomb! DOGBERRY God's my life, where's the Sexton? Let him write down the Prince's officer "coxcomb." Come, bind them.--Thou naughty varlet! CONRADE Away! You are an ass, you are an ass! DOGBERRY Dost thou not suspect my place? Dost thou not suspect my years? O, that he were here to write me down an ass! But masters, remember that I am an ass, though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass.--No, thou villain, thou art full of piety, as shall be proved upon thee by good witness. I am a wise fellow and, which is more, an officer and, which is more, a householder and, which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in Messina, and one that knows the law, go to, and a rich fellow enough, go to, and a fellow that hath had losses, and one that hath two gowns and everything handsome about him.--Bring him away.--O, that I had been writ down an ass! [They exit.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Leonato and his brother.] LEONATO'S BROTHER If you go on thus, you will kill yourself, And 'tis not wisdom thus to second grief Against yourself. LEONATO I pray thee, cease thy counsel, Which falls into mine ears as profitless As water in a sieve. Give not me counsel, Nor let no comforter delight mine ear But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine. Bring me a father that so loved his child, Whose joy of her is overwhelmed like mine, And bid him speak of patience. Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine, And let it answer every strain for strain, As thus for thus, and such a grief for such, In every lineament, branch, shape, and form. If such a one will smile and stroke his beard, Bid sorrow wag, cry "hem" when he should groan, Patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk With candle-wasters, bring him yet to me, And I of him will gather patience. But there is no such man. For, brother, men Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief Which they themselves not feel, but tasting it, Their counsel turns to passion, which before Would give preceptial med'cine to rage, Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, Charm ache with air and agony with words. No, no, 'tis all men's office to speak patience To those that wring under the load of sorrow, But no man's virtue nor sufficiency To be so moral when he shall endure The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel. My griefs cry louder than advertisement. LEONATO'S BROTHER Therein do men from children nothing differ. LEONATO I pray thee, peace. I will be flesh and blood, For there was never yet philosopher That could endure the toothache patiently, However they have writ the style of gods And made a push at chance and sufferance. LEONATO'S BROTHER Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself. Make those that do offend you suffer too. LEONATO There thou speak'st reason. Nay, I will do so. My soul doth tell me Hero is belied, And that shall Claudio know; so shall the Prince And all of them that thus dishonor her. [Enter Prince and Claudio.] LEONATO'S BROTHER Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily. PRINCE Good e'en, good e'en. CLAUDIO Good day to both of you. LEONATO Hear you, my lords-- PRINCE We have some haste, Leonato. LEONATO Some haste, my lord! Well, fare you well, my lord. Are you so hasty now? Well, all is one. PRINCE Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man. LEONATO'S BROTHER If he could right himself with quarrelling, Some of us would lie low. CLAUDIO Who wrongs him? LEONATO Marry, thou dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou. Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword. I fear thee not. CLAUDIO Marry, beshrew my hand If it should give your age such cause of fear. In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword. LEONATO Tush, tush, man, never fleer and jest at me. I speak not like a dotard nor a fool, As under privilege of age to brag What I have done being young, or what would do Were I not old. Know, Claudio, to thy head, Thou hast so wronged mine innocent child and me That I am forced to lay my reverence by, And with gray hairs and bruise of many days Do challenge thee to trial of a man. I say thou hast belied mine innocent child. Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart, And she lies buried with her ancestors, O, in a tomb where never scandal slept, Save this of hers, framed by thy villainy. CLAUDIO My villainy? LEONATO Thine, Claudio, thine, I say. PRINCE You say not right, old man. LEONATO My lord, my lord, I'll prove it on his body if he dare, Despite his nice fence and his active practice, His May of youth and bloom of lustihood. CLAUDIO Away! I will not have to do with you. LEONATO Canst thou so daff me? Thou hast killed my child. If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man. LEONATO'S BROTHER He shall kill two of us, and men indeed, But that's no matter. Let him kill one first. Win me and wear me! Let him answer me.-- Come, follow me, boy. Come, sir boy, come, follow me. Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foining fence, Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will. LEONATO Brother-- LEONATO'S BROTHER Content yourself. God knows I loved my niece, And she is dead, slandered to death by villains That dare as well answer a man indeed As I dare take a serpent by the tongue.-- Boys, apes, braggarts, jacks, milksops! LEONATO Brother Anthony-- LEONATO'S BROTHER Hold you content. What, man! I know them, yea, And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple-- Scambling, outfacing, fashionmonging boys, That lie and cog and flout, deprave and slander, Go anticly and show outward hideousness, And speak off half a dozen dang'rous words How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst, And this is all. LEONATO But brother Anthony-- LEONATO'S BROTHER Come, 'tis no matter. Do not you meddle. Let me deal in this. PRINCE Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience. My heart is sorry for your daughter's death, But, on my honor, she was charged with nothing But what was true and very full of proof. LEONATO My lord, my lord-- PRINCE I will not hear you. LEONATO No? Come, brother, away. I will be heard. LEONATO'S BROTHER And shall, or some of us will smart for it. [Leonato and his brother exit.] [Enter Benedick.] PRINCE See, see, here comes the man we went to seek. CLAUDIO Now, signior, what news? BENEDICK, [to Prince] Good day, my lord. PRINCE Welcome, signior. You are almost come to part almost a fray. CLAUDIO We had like to have had our two noses snapped off with two old men without teeth. PRINCE Leonato and his brother. What think'st thou? Had we fought, I doubt we should have been too young for them. BENEDICK In a false quarrel there is no true valor. I came to seek you both. CLAUDIO We have been up and down to seek thee, for we are high-proof melancholy and would fain have it beaten away. Wilt thou use thy wit? BENEDICK It is in my scabbard. Shall I draw it? PRINCE Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side? CLAUDIO Never any did so, though very many have been beside their wit. I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrels: draw to pleasure us. PRINCE As I am an honest man, he looks pale.--Art thou sick, or angry? CLAUDIO, [to Benedick] What, courage, man! What though care killed a cat? Thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care. BENEDICK Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, an you charge it against me. I pray you, choose another subject. CLAUDIO, [to Prince] Nay, then, give him another staff. This last was broke 'cross. PRINCE By this light, he changes more and more. I think he be angry indeed. CLAUDIO If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle. BENEDICK Shall I speak a word in your ear? CLAUDIO God bless me from a challenge! BENEDICK, [aside to Claudio] You are a villain. I jest not. I will make it good how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare. Do me right, or I will protest your cowardice. You have killed a sweet lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from you. CLAUDIO Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer. PRINCE What, a feast, a feast? CLAUDIO I' faith, I thank him. He hath bid me to a calf's head and a capon, the which if I do not carve most curiously, say my knife's naught. Shall I not find a woodcock too? BENEDICK Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily. PRINCE I'll tell thee how Beatrice praised thy wit the other day. I said thou hadst a fine wit. "True," said she, "a fine little one." "No," said I, "a great wit." "Right," says she, "a great gross one." "Nay," said I, "a good wit." "Just," said she, "it hurts nobody." "Nay," said I, "the gentleman is wise." "Certain," said she, "a wise gentleman." "Nay," said I, "he hath the tongues." "That I believe," said she, "for he swore a thing to me on Monday night which he forswore on Tuesday morning; there's a double tongue, there's two tongues." Thus did she an hour together transshape thy particular virtues. Yet at last she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the proper'st man in Italy. CLAUDIO For the which she wept heartily and said she cared not. PRINCE Yea, that she did. But yet for all that, an if she did not hate him deadly, she would love him dearly. The old man's daughter told us all. CLAUDIO All, all. And, moreover, God saw him when he was hid in the garden. PRINCE But when shall we set the savage bull's horns on the sensible Benedick's head? CLAUDIO Yea, and text underneath: "Here dwells Benedick, the married man"? BENEDICK Fare you well, boy. You know my mind. I will leave you now to your gossip-like humor. You break jests as braggarts do their blades, which, God be thanked, hurt not.--My lord, for your many courtesies I thank you. I must discontinue your company. Your brother the Bastard is fled from Messina. You have among you killed a sweet and innocent lady. For my Lord Lackbeard there, he and I shall meet, and till then peace be with him. [Benedick exits.] PRINCE He is in earnest. CLAUDIO In most profound earnest, and, I'll warrant you, for the love of Beatrice. PRINCE And hath challenged thee? CLAUDIO Most sincerely. PRINCE What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his doublet and hose and leaves off his wit! CLAUDIO He is then a giant to an ape; but then is an ape a doctor to such a man. PRINCE But soft you, let me be. Pluck up, my heart, and be sad. Did he not say my brother was fled? [Enter Constables Dogberry and Verges, and the Watch, with Conrade and Borachio.] DOGBERRY Come you, sir. If justice cannot tame you, she shall ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance. Nay, an you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be looked to. PRINCE How now, two of my brother's men bound? Borachio one! CLAUDIO Hearken after their offense, my lord. PRINCE Officers, what offense have these men done? DOGBERRY Marry, sir, they have committed false report; moreover, they have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified unjust things; and, to conclude, they are lying knaves. PRINCE First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I ask thee what's their offense; sixth and lastly, why they are committed; and, to conclude, what you lay to their charge. CLAUDIO Rightly reasoned, and in his own division; and, by my troth, there's one meaning well suited. PRINCE, [to Borachio and Conrade] Who have you offended, masters, that you are thus bound to your answer? This learned constable is too cunning to be understood. What's your offense? BORACHIO Sweet prince, let me go no farther to mine answer. Do you hear me, and let this count kill me. I have deceived even your very eyes. What your wisdoms could not discover, these shallow fools have brought to light, who in the night overheard me confessing to this man how Don John your brother incensed me to slander the Lady Hero, how you were brought into the orchard and saw me court Margaret in Hero's garments, how you disgraced her when you should marry her. My villainy they have upon record, which I had rather seal with my death than repeat over to my shame. The lady is dead upon mine and my master's false accusation. And, briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a villain. PRINCE, [to Claudio] Runs not this speech like iron through your blood? CLAUDIO I have drunk poison whiles he uttered it. PRINCE, [to Borachio] But did my brother set thee on to this? BORACHIO Yea, and paid me richly for the practice of it. PRINCE He is composed and framed of treachery, And fled he is upon this villainy. CLAUDIO Sweet Hero, now thy image doth appear In the rare semblance that I loved it first. DOGBERRY Come, bring away the plaintiffs. By this time our sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of the matter. And, masters, do not forget to specify, when time and place shall serve, that I am an ass. VERGES Here, here comes Master Signior Leonato, and the Sexton too. [Enter Leonato, his brother, and the Sexton.] LEONATO Which is the villain? Let me see his eyes, That, when I note another man like him, I may avoid him. Which of these is he? BORACHIO If you would know your wronger, look on me. LEONATO Art thou the slave that with thy breath hast killed Mine innocent child? BORACHIO Yea, even I alone. LEONATO No, not so, villain, thou beliest thyself. Here stand a pair of honorable men-- A third is fled--that had a hand in it.-- I thank you, princes, for my daughter's death. Record it with your high and worthy deeds. 'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. CLAUDIO I know not how to pray your patience, Yet I must speak. Choose your revenge yourself. Impose me to what penance your invention Can lay upon my sin. Yet sinned I not But in mistaking. PRINCE By my soul, nor I, And yet to satisfy this good old man I would bend under any heavy weight That he'll enjoin me to. LEONATO I cannot bid you bid my daughter live-- That were impossible--but, I pray you both, Possess the people in Messina here How innocent she died. And if your love Can labor aught in sad invention, Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb And sing it to her bones. Sing it tonight. Tomorrow morning come you to my house, And since you could not be my son-in-law, Be yet my nephew. My brother hath a daughter, Almost the copy of my child that's dead, And she alone is heir to both of us. Give her the right you should have giv'n her cousin, And so dies my revenge. CLAUDIO O, noble sir! Your overkindness doth wring tears from me. I do embrace your offer and dispose For henceforth of poor Claudio. LEONATO Tomorrow then I will expect your coming. Tonight I take my leave. This naughty man Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, Who I believe was packed in all this wrong, Hired to it by your brother. BORACHIO No, by my soul, she was not, Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me, But always hath been just and virtuous In anything that I do know by her. DOGBERRY, [to Leonato] Moreover, sir, which indeed is not under white and black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me ass. I beseech you, let it be remembered in his punishment. And also the watch heard them talk of one Deformed. They say he wears a key in his ear and a lock hanging by it and borrows money in God's name, the which he hath used so long and never paid that now men grow hardhearted and will lend nothing for God's sake. Pray you, examine him upon that point. LEONATO I thank thee for thy care and honest pains. DOGBERRY Your Worship speaks like a most thankful and reverent youth, and I praise God for you. LEONATO, [giving him money] There's for thy pains. DOGBERRY God save the foundation. LEONATO Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thank thee. DOGBERRY I leave an arrant knave with your Worship, which I beseech your Worship to correct yourself, for the example of others. God keep your Worship! I wish your Worship well. God restore you to health. I humbly give you leave to depart, and if a merry meeting may be wished, God prohibit it.-- Come, neighbor. [Dogberry and Verges exit.] LEONATO Until tomorrow morning, lords, farewell. LEONATO'S BROTHER Farewell, my lords. We look for you tomorrow. PRINCE We will not fail. CLAUDIO Tonight I'll mourn with Hero. LEONATO, [to Watch] Bring you these fellows on.--We'll talk with Margaret, How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Benedick and Margaret.] BENEDICK Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands by helping me to the speech of Beatrice. MARGARET Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty? BENEDICK In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come over it, for in most comely truth thou deservest it. MARGARET To have no man come over me? Why, shall I always keep below stairs? BENEDICK Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth; it catches. MARGARET And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils, which hit but hurt not. BENEDICK A most manly wit, Margaret; it will not hurt a woman. And so, I pray thee, call Beatrice. I give thee the bucklers. MARGARET Give us the swords; we have bucklers of our own. BENEDICK If you use them, Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous weapons for maids. MARGARET Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath legs. BENEDICK And therefore will come. [Margaret exits.] [Sings] The god of love That sits above, And knows me, and knows me, How pitiful I deserve-- I mean in singing. But in loving, Leander the good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of panders, and a whole book full of these quondam carpetmongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verse, why, they were never so truly turned over and over as my poor self in love. Marry, I cannot show it in rhyme. I have tried. I can find out no rhyme to "lady" but "baby"--an innocent rhyme; for "scorn," "horn"--a hard rhyme; for "school," "fool"--a babbling rhyme; very ominous endings. No, I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo in festival terms. [Enter Beatrice.] Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee? BEATRICE Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me. BENEDICK O, stay but till then! BEATRICE "Then" is spoken. Fare you well now. And yet, ere I go, let me go with that I came, which is, with knowing what hath passed between you and Claudio. BENEDICK Only foul words, and thereupon I will kiss thee. BEATRICE Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome. Therefore I will depart unkissed. BENEDICK Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense, so forcible is thy wit. But I must tell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge, and either I must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe him a coward. And I pray thee now tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me? BEATRICE For them all together, which maintained so politic a state of evil that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them. But for which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me? BENEDICK Suffer love! A good epithet. I do suffer love indeed, for I love thee against my will. BEATRICE In spite of your heart, I think. Alas, poor heart, if you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for yours, for I will never love that which my friend hates. BENEDICK Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably. BEATRICE It appears not in this confession. There's not one wise man among twenty that will praise himself. BENEDICK An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that lived in the time of good neighbors. If a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monument than the bell rings and the widow weeps. BEATRICE And how long is that, think you? BENEDICK Question: why, an hour in clamor and a quarter in rheum. Therefore is it most expedient for the wise, if Don Worm, his conscience, find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself. So much for praising myself, who, I myself will bear witness, is praiseworthy. And now tell me, how doth your cousin? BEATRICE Very ill. BENEDICK And how do you? BEATRICE Very ill, too. BENEDICK Serve God, love me, and mend. There will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste. [Enter Ursula.] URSULA Madam, you must come to your uncle. Yonder's old coil at home. It is proved my Lady Hero hath been falsely accused, the Prince and Claudio mightily abused, and Don John is the author of all, who is fled and gone. Will you come presently? [Ursula exits.] BEATRICE Will you go hear this news, signior? BENEDICK I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes--and, moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle's. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Claudio, Prince, and three or four Lords with tapers, and Musicians.] CLAUDIO Is this the monument of Leonato? FIRST LORD It is, my lord. CLAUDIO, [reading an Epitaph.] Done to death by slanderous tongues Was the Hero that here lies. Death, in guerdon of her wrongs, Gives her fame which never dies. So the life that died with shame Lives in death with glorious fame. [He hangs up the scroll.] Hang thou there upon the tomb, Praising her when I am dumb. Now music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn. Song Pardon, goddess of the night, Those that slew thy virgin knight, For the which with songs of woe, Round about her tomb they go. Midnight, assist our moan. Help us to sigh and groan Heavily, heavily. Graves, yawn and yield your dead, Till death be uttered, Heavily, heavily. CLAUDIO Now, unto thy bones, goodnight. Yearly will I do this rite. PRINCE Good morrow, masters. Put your torches out. The wolves have preyed, and look, the gentle day Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about Dapples the drowsy east with spots of gray. Thanks to you all, and leave us. Fare you well. CLAUDIO Good morrow, masters. Each his several way. [Lords and Musicians exit.] PRINCE Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds, And then to Leonato's we will go. CLAUDIO And Hymen now with luckier issue speed 's, Than this for whom we rendered up this woe. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Leonato, Benedick, Beatrice, Margaret, Ursula, Leonato's brother, Friar, Hero.] FRIAR Did I not tell you she was innocent? LEONATO So are the Prince and Claudio, who accused her Upon the error that you heard debated. But Margaret was in some fault for this, Although against her will, as it appears In the true course of all the question. LEONATO'S BROTHER Well, I am glad that all things sorts so well. BENEDICK And so am I, being else by faith enforced To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. LEONATO Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all, Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves, And when I send for you, come hither masked. The Prince and Claudio promised by this hour To visit me.--You know your office, brother. You must be father to your brother's daughter, And give her to young Claudio. [The ladies exit.] LEONATO'S BROTHER Which I will do with confirmed countenance. BENEDICK Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think. FRIAR To do what, signior? BENEDICK To bind me, or undo me, one of them.-- Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior, Your niece regards me with an eye of favor. LEONATO That eye my daughter lent her; 'tis most true. BENEDICK And I do with an eye of love requite her. LEONATO The sight whereof I think you had from me, From Claudio, and the Prince. But what's your will? BENEDICK Your answer, sir, is enigmatical. But for my will, my will is your goodwill May stand with ours, this day to be conjoined In the state of honorable marriage-- In which, good friar, I shall desire your help. LEONATO My heart is with your liking. FRIAR And my help. Here comes the Prince and Claudio. [Enter Prince, and Claudio, and two or three other.] PRINCE Good morrow to this fair assembly. LEONATO Good morrow, prince; good morrow, Claudio. We here attend you. Are you yet determined Today to marry with my brother's daughter? CLAUDIO I'll hold my mind were she an Ethiope. LEONATO Call her forth, brother. Here's the Friar ready. [Leonato's brother exits.] PRINCE Good morrow, Benedick. Why, what's the matter That you have such a February face, So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness? CLAUDIO I think he thinks upon the savage bull. Tush, fear not, man. We'll tip thy horns with gold, And all Europa shall rejoice at thee, As once Europa did at lusty Jove When he would play the noble beast in love. BENEDICK Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low, And some such strange bull leapt your father's cow And got a calf in that same noble feat Much like to you, for you have just his bleat. CLAUDIO For this I owe you. Here comes other reck'nings. [Enter Leonato's brother, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, Ursula, the ladies masked.] Which is the lady I must seize upon? LEONATO This same is she, and I do give you her. CLAUDIO Why, then, she's mine.--Sweet, let me see your face. LEONATO No, that you shall not till you take her hand Before this friar and swear to marry her. CLAUDIO, [to Hero] Give me your hand before this holy friar. [They take hands.] I am your husband, if you like of me. HERO And when I lived, I was your other wife, And when you loved, you were my other husband. [She unmasks.] CLAUDIO Another Hero! HERO Nothing certainer. One Hero died defiled, but I do live, And surely as I live, I am a maid. PRINCE The former Hero! Hero that is dead! LEONATO She died, my lord, but whiles her slander lived. FRIAR All this amazement can I qualify, When after that the holy rites are ended, I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death. Meantime let wonder seem familiar, And to the chapel let us presently. BENEDICK Soft and fair, friar.--Which is Beatrice? BEATRICE, [unmasking] I answer to that name. What is your will? BENEDICK Do not you love me? BEATRICE Why no, no more than reason. BENEDICK Why then, your uncle and the Prince and Claudio Have been deceived. They swore you did. BEATRICE Do not you love me? BENEDICK Troth, no, no more than reason. BEATRICE Why then, my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula Are much deceived, for they did swear you did. BENEDICK They swore that you were almost sick for me. BEATRICE They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me. BENEDICK 'Tis no such matter. Then you do not love me? BEATRICE No, truly, but in friendly recompense. LEONATO Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman. CLAUDIO And I'll be sworn upon 't that he loves her, For here's a paper written in his hand, A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, Fashioned to Beatrice. [He shows a paper.] HERO And here's another, Writ in my cousin's hand, stol'n from her pocket, Containing her affection unto Benedick. [She shows a paper.] BENEDICK A miracle! Here's our own hands against our hearts. Come, I will have thee, but by this light I take thee for pity. BEATRICE I would not deny you, but by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion, and partly to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption. BENEDICK Peace! I will stop your mouth. [They kiss.] PRINCE How dost thou, Benedick, the married man? BENEDICK I'll tell thee what, prince: a college of wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my humor. Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epigram? No. If a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear nothing handsome about him. In brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it, and therefore never flout at me for what I have said against it. For man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion.--For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee, but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised, and love my cousin. CLAUDIO I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgeled thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double-dealer, which out of question thou wilt be, if my cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee. BENEDICK Come, come, we are friends. Let's have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts and our wives' heels. LEONATO We'll have dancing afterward. BENEDICK First, of my word! Therefore play, music.-- Prince, thou art sad. Get thee a wife, get thee a wife. There is no staff more reverend than one tipped with horn. [Enter Messenger.] MESSENGER, [to Prince] My lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight, And brought with armed men back to Messina. BENEDICK, [to Prince] Think not on him till tomorrow. I'll devise thee brave punishments for him.--Strike up, pipers! [Music plays. They dance.] [They exit.]

Othello by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== OTHELLO, a Moorish general in the Venetian army DESDEMONA, a Venetian lady BRABANTIO, a Venetian senator, father to Desdemona IAGO, Othello's standard-bearer, or "ancient" EMILIA, Iago's wife and Desdemona's attendant CASSIO, Othello's second-in-command, or lieutenant RODERIGO, a Venetian gentleman Duke of Venice Venetian gentlemen, kinsmen to Brabantio: LODOVICO GRATIANO Venetian senators MONTANO, an official in Cyprus BIANCA, a woman in Cyprus in love with Cassio Clown, a comic servant to Othello and Desdemona Gentlemen of Cyprus Sailors Servants, Attendants, Officers, Messengers, Herald, Musicians, Torchbearers. ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Roderigo and Iago.] RODERIGO Tush, never tell me! I take it much unkindly That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this. IAGO 'Sblood, but you'll not hear me! If ever I did dream of such a matter, Abhor me. RODERIGO Thou toldst me thou didst hold him in thy hate. IAGO Despise me If I do not. Three great ones of the city, In personal suit to make me his lieutenant, Off-capped to him; and, by the faith of man, I know my price, I am worth no worse a place. But he, as loving his own pride and purposes, Evades them with a bombast circumstance, Horribly stuffed with epithets of war, And in conclusion, Nonsuits my mediators. For "Certes," says he, "I have already chose my officer." And what was he? Forsooth, a great arithmetician, One Michael Cassio, a Florentine, A fellow almost damned in a fair wife, That never set a squadron in the field, Nor the division of a battle knows More than a spinster--unless the bookish theoric, Wherein the toged consuls can propose As masterly as he. Mere prattle without practice Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had th' election; And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on other grounds Christened and heathen, must be beleed and calmed By debitor and creditor. This countercaster, He, in good time, must his lieutenant be, And I, God bless the mark, his Moorship's ancient. RODERIGO By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman. IAGO Why, there's no remedy. 'Tis the curse of service. Preferment goes by letter and affection, And not by old gradation, where each second Stood heir to th' first. Now, sir, be judge yourself Whether I in any just term am affined To love the Moor. RODERIGO I would not follow him, then. IAGO O, sir, content you. I follow him to serve my turn upon him. We cannot all be masters, nor all masters Cannot be truly followed. You shall mark Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave That, doting on his own obsequious bondage, Wears out his time, much like his master's ass, For naught but provender, and when he's old, cashiered. Whip me such honest knaves! Others there are Who, trimmed in forms and visages of duty, Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves, And, throwing but shows of service on their lords, Do well thrive by them; and when they have lined their coats, Do themselves homage. These fellows have some soul, And such a one do I profess myself. For, sir, It is as sure as you are Roderigo, Were I the Moor I would not be Iago. In following him, I follow but myself. Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, But seeming so for my peculiar end. For when my outward action doth demonstrate The native act and figure of my heart In complement extern, 'tis not long after But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve For daws to peck at. I am not what I am. RODERIGO What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe If he can carry 't thus! IAGO Call up her father. Rouse him. Make after him, poison his delight, Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kinsmen, And, though he in a fertile climate dwell, Plague him with flies. Though that his joy be joy, Yet throw such chances of vexation on 't As it may lose some color. RODERIGO Here is her father's house. I'll call aloud. IAGO Do, with like timorous accent and dire yell As when, by night and negligence, the fire Is spied in populous cities. RODERIGO What ho, Brabantio! Signior Brabantio, ho! IAGO Awake! What ho, Brabantio! Thieves, thieves! Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags! Thieves, thieves! [Enter Brabantio, above.] BRABANTIO What is the reason of this terrible summons? What is the matter there? RODERIGO Signior, is all your family within? IAGO Are your doors locked? BRABANTIO Why, wherefore ask you this? IAGO Zounds, sir, you're robbed. For shame, put on your gown! Your heart is burst. You have lost half your soul. Even now, now, very now, an old black ram Is tupping your white ewe. Arise, arise! Awake the snorting citizens with the bell, Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you. Arise, I say! BRABANTIO What, have you lost your wits? RODERIGO Most reverend signior, do you know my voice? BRABANTIO Not I. What are you? RODERIGO My name is Roderigo. BRABANTIO The worser welcome. I have charged thee not to haunt about my doors. In honest plainness thou hast heard me say My daughter is not for thee. And now in madness, Being full of supper and distemp'ring draughts, Upon malicious bravery dost thou come To start my quiet. RODERIGO Sir, sir, sir-- BRABANTIO But thou must needs be sure My spirit and my place have in them power To make this bitter to thee. RODERIGO Patience, good sir. BRABANTIO What tell'st thou me of robbing? This is Venice. My house is not a grange. RODERIGO Most grave Brabantio, In simple and pure soul I come to you-- IAGO Zounds, sir, you are one of those that will not serve God if the devil bid you. Because we come to do you service and you think we are ruffians, you'll have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse, you'll have your nephews neigh to you, you'll have coursers for cousins and jennets for germans. BRABANTIO What profane wretch art thou? IAGO I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs. BRABANTIO Thou art a villain. IAGO You are a senator. BRABANTIO This thou shalt answer. I know thee, Roderigo. RODERIGO Sir, I will answer anything. But I beseech you, If 't be your pleasure and most wise consent-- As partly I find it is--that your fair daughter, At this odd-even and dull watch o' th' night, Transported with no worse nor better guard But with a knave of common hire, a gondolier, To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor: If this be known to you, and your allowance, We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs. But if you know not this, my manners tell me We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe That from the sense of all civility I thus would play and trifle with your Reverence. Your daughter, if you have not given her leave, I say again, hath made a gross revolt, Tying her duty, beauty, wit, and fortunes In an extravagant and wheeling stranger Of here and everywhere. Straight satisfy yourself. If she be in her chamber or your house, Let loose on me the justice of the state For thus deluding you. BRABANTIO Strike on the tinder, ho! Give me a taper. Call up all my people. This accident is not unlike my dream. Belief of it oppresses me already. Light, I say, light! [He exits.] IAGO, [to Roderigo] Farewell, for I must leave you. It seems not meet nor wholesome to my place To be producted, as if I stay I shall, Against the Moor. For I do know the state, However this may gall him with some check, Cannot with safety cast him, for he's embarked With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars, Which even now stands in act, that, for their souls, Another of his fathom they have none To lead their business. In which regard, Though I do hate him as I do hell pains, Yet, for necessity of present life, I must show out a flag and sign of love-- Which is indeed but sign. That you shall surely find him, Lead to the Sagittary the raised search, And there will I be with him. So, farewell. [He exits.] [Enter Brabantio in his nightgown, with Servants and Torches.] BRABANTIO It is too true an evil. Gone she is, And what's to come of my despised time Is naught but bitterness.--Now, Roderigo, Where didst thou see her?--O, unhappy girl!-- With the Moor, sayst thou?--Who would be a father?-- How didst thou know 'twas she?--O, she deceives me Past thought!--What said she to you?--Get more tapers. Raise all my kindred.--Are they married, think you? RODERIGO Truly, I think they are. BRABANTIO O heaven! How got she out? O treason of the blood! Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters' minds By what you see them act.--Is there not charms By which the property of youth and maidhood May be abused? Have you not read, Roderigo, Of some such thing? RODERIGO Yes, sir, I have indeed. BRABANTIO Call up my brother.--O, would you had had her!-- Some one way, some another.--Do you know Where we may apprehend her and the Moor? RODERIGO I think I can discover him, if you please To get good guard and go along with me. BRABANTIO Pray you lead on. At every house I'll call. I may command at most.--Get weapons, ho! And raise some special officers of night.-- On, good Roderigo. I will deserve your pains. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Othello, Iago, Attendants, with Torches.] IAGO Though in the trade of war I have slain men, Yet do I hold it very stuff o' th' conscience To do no contrived murder. I lack iniquity Sometimes to do me service. Nine or ten times I had thought t' have yerked him here under the ribs. OTHELLO 'Tis better as it is. IAGO Nay, but he prated And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms Against your Honor, That with the little godliness I have I did full hard forbear him. But I pray you, sir, Are you fast married? Be assured of this, That the magnifico is much beloved, And hath in his effect a voice potential As double as the Duke's. He will divorce you Or put upon you what restraint or grievance The law (with all his might to enforce it on) Will give him cable. OTHELLO Let him do his spite. My services which I have done the signiory Shall out-tongue his complaints. 'Tis yet to know (Which, when I know that boasting is an honor, I shall promulgate) I fetch my life and being From men of royal siege, and my demerits May speak unbonneted to as proud a fortune As this that I have reached. For know, Iago, But that I love the gentle Desdemona, I would not my unhoused free condition Put into circumscription and confine For the sea's worth. But look, what lights come yond? IAGO Those are the raised father and his friends. You were best go in. OTHELLO Not I. I must be found. My parts, my title, and my perfect soul Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they? IAGO By Janus, I think no. [Enter Cassio, with Officers, and Torches.] OTHELLO The servants of the Duke and my lieutenant! The goodness of the night upon you, friends. What is the news? CASSIO The Duke does greet you, general, And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance, Even on the instant. OTHELLO What is the matter, think you? CASSIO Something from Cyprus, as I may divine. It is a business of some heat. The galleys Have sent a dozen sequent messengers This very night at one another's heels, And many of the Consuls, raised and met, Are at the Duke's already. You have been hotly called for. When, being not at your lodging to be found, The Senate hath sent about three several quests To search you out. OTHELLO 'Tis well I am found by you. I will but spend a word here in the house And go with you. [He exits.] CASSIO Ancient, what makes he here? IAGO Faith, he tonight hath boarded a land carrack. If it prove lawful prize, he's made forever. CASSIO I do not understand. IAGO He's married. CASSIO To who? IAGO Marry, to-- [Reenter Othello.] Come, captain, will you go? OTHELLO Have with you. CASSIO Here comes another troop to seek for you. [Enter Brabantio, Roderigo, with Officers, and Torches.] IAGO It is Brabantio. General, be advised, He comes to bad intent. OTHELLO Holla, stand there! RODERIGO Signior, it is the Moor. BRABANTIO Down with him, thief! [They draw their swords.] IAGO You, Roderigo! Come, sir, I am for you. OTHELLO Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them. Good signior, you shall more command with years Than with your weapons. BRABANTIO O, thou foul thief, where hast thou stowed my daughter? Damned as thou art, thou hast enchanted her! For I'll refer me to all things of sense, If she in chains of magic were not bound, Whether a maid so tender, fair, and happy, So opposite to marriage that she shunned The wealthy curled darlings of our nation, Would ever have, t' incur a general mock, Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom Of such a thing as thou--to fear, not to delight! Judge me the world, if 'tis not gross in sense That thou hast practiced on her with foul charms, Abused her delicate youth with drugs or minerals That weakens motion. I'll have 't disputed on. 'Tis probable, and palpable to thinking. I therefore apprehend and do attach thee For an abuser of the world, a practicer Of arts inhibited and out of warrant.-- Lay hold upon him. If he do resist, Subdue him at his peril. OTHELLO Hold your hands, Both you of my inclining and the rest. Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it Without a prompter.--Whither will you that I go To answer this your charge? BRABANTIO To prison, till fit time Of law and course of direct session Call thee to answer. OTHELLO What if I do obey? How may the Duke be therewith satisfied, Whose messengers are here about my side, Upon some present business of the state, To bring me to him? OFFICER 'Tis true, most worthy signior. The Duke's in council, and your noble self I am sure is sent for. BRABANTIO How? The Duke in council? In this time of the night? Bring him away; Mine's not an idle cause. The Duke himself, Or any of my brothers of the state, Cannot but feel this wrong as 'twere their own. For if such actions may have passage free, Bondslaves and pagans shall our statesmen be. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Duke, Senators, and Officers.] DUKE, [reading a paper] There's no composition in these news That gives them credit. FIRST SENATOR, [reading a paper] Indeed, they are disproportioned. My letters say a hundred and seven galleys. DUKE And mine, a hundred forty. SECOND SENATOR, [reading a paper] And mine, two hundred. But though they jump not on a just account (As in these cases, where the aim reports 'Tis oft with difference), yet do they all confirm A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus. DUKE Nay, it is possible enough to judgment. I do not so secure me in the error, But the main article I do approve In fearful sense. SAILOR, [within] What ho, what ho, what ho! [Enter Sailor.] OFFICER A messenger from the galleys. DUKE Now, what's the business? SAILOR The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes. So was I bid report here to the state By Signior Angelo. [He exits.] DUKE How say you by this change? FIRST SENATOR This cannot be, By no assay of reason. 'Tis a pageant To keep us in false gaze. When we consider Th' importancy of Cyprus to the Turk, And let ourselves again but understand That, as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes, So may he with more facile question bear it, For that it stands not in such warlike brace, But altogether lacks th' abilities That Rhodes is dressed in--if we make thought of this, We must not think the Turk is so unskillful To leave that latest which concerns him first, Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain To wake and wage a danger profitless. DUKE Nay, in all confidence, he's not for Rhodes. OFFICER Here is more news. [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER The Ottomites, Reverend and Gracious, Steering with due course toward the isle of Rhodes, Have there injointed them with an after fleet. FIRST SENATOR Ay, so I thought. How many, as you guess? MESSENGER Of thirty sail; and now they do restem Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano, Your trusty and most valiant servitor, With his free duty recommends you thus, And prays you to believe him. [He exits.] DUKE 'Tis certain, then, for Cyprus. Marcus Luccicos, is not he in town? FIRST SENATOR He's now in Florence. DUKE Write from us to him. Post-post-haste. Dispatch. FIRST SENATOR Here comes Brabantio and the valiant Moor. [Enter Brabantio, Othello, Cassio, Iago, Roderigo, and Officers.] DUKE Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you Against the general enemy Ottoman. [To Brabantio.] I did not see you. Welcome, gentle signior. We lacked your counsel and your help tonight. BRABANTIO So did I yours. Good your Grace, pardon me. Neither my place nor aught I heard of business Hath raised me from my bed, nor doth the general care Take hold on me, for my particular grief Is of so floodgate and o'erbearing nature That it engluts and swallows other sorrows And it is still itself. DUKE Why, what's the matter? BRABANTIO My daughter! O, my daughter! FIRST SENATOR Dead? BRABANTIO Ay, to me. She is abused, stol'n from me, and corrupted By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks; For nature so prepost'rously to err-- Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense-- Sans witchcraft could not. DUKE Whoe'er he be that in this foul proceeding Hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself And you of her, the bloody book of law You shall yourself read in the bitter letter, After your own sense, yea, though our proper son Stood in your action. BRABANTIO Humbly I thank your Grace. Here is the man--this Moor, whom now it seems Your special mandate for the state affairs Hath hither brought. ALL We are very sorry for 't. DUKE, [to Othello] What, in your own part, can you say to this? BRABANTIO Nothing, but this is so. OTHELLO Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, My very noble and approved good masters: That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter, It is most true; true I have married her. The very head and front of my offending Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech, And little blessed with the soft phrase of peace; For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith, Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used Their dearest action in the tented field, And little of this great world can I speak More than pertains to feats of broil and battle. And therefore little shall I grace my cause In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience, I will a round unvarnished tale deliver Of my whole course of love--what drugs, what charms, What conjuration, and what mighty magic (For such proceeding I am charged withal) I won his daughter. BRABANTIO A maiden never bold, Of spirit so still and quiet that her motion Blushed at herself. And she, in spite of nature, Of years, of country, credit, everything, To fall in love with what she feared to look on! It is a judgment maimed and most imperfect That will confess perfection so could err Against all rules of nature, and must be driven To find out practices of cunning hell Why this should be. I therefore vouch again That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood, Or with some dram conjured to this effect, He wrought upon her. DUKE To vouch this is no proof Without more wider and more overt test Than these thin habits and poor likelihoods Of modern seeming do prefer against him. FIRST SENATOR But, Othello, speak: Did you by indirect and forced courses Subdue and poison this young maid's affections? Or came it by request, and such fair question As soul to soul affordeth? OTHELLO I do beseech you, Send for the lady to the Sagittary And let her speak of me before her father. If you do find me foul in her report, The trust, the office I do hold of you, Not only take away, but let your sentence Even fall upon my life. DUKE Fetch Desdemona hither. OTHELLO Ancient, conduct them. You best know the place. [Iago and Attendants exit.] And till she come, as truly as to heaven I do confess the vices of my blood, So justly to your grave ears I'll present How I did thrive in this fair lady's love, And she in mine. DUKE Say it, Othello. OTHELLO Her father loved me, oft invited me, Still questioned me the story of my life From year to year--the battles, sieges, fortunes That I have passed. I ran it through, even from my boyish days To th' very moment that he bade me tell it, Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances: Of moving accidents by flood and field, Of hairbreadth 'scapes i' th' imminent deadly breach, Of being taken by the insolent foe And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence, And portance in my traveler's history, Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle, Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven, It was my hint to speak--such was my process-- And of the cannibals that each other eat, The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads Do grow beneath their shoulders. These things to hear Would Desdemona seriously incline. But still the house affairs would draw her thence, Which ever as she could with haste dispatch She'd come again, and with a greedy ear Devour up my discourse. Which I, observing, Took once a pliant hour, and found good means To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, Whereof by parcels she had something heard, But not intentively. I did consent, And often did beguile her of her tears When I did speak of some distressful stroke That my youth suffered. My story being done, She gave me for my pains a world of sighs. She swore, in faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange, 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful. She wished she had not heard it, yet she wished That heaven had made her such a man. She thanked me, And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, I should but teach him how to tell my story, And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake. She loved me for the dangers I had passed, And I loved her that she did pity them. This only is the witchcraft I have used. Here comes the lady. Let her witness it. [Enter Desdemona, Iago, Attendants.] DUKE I think this tale would win my daughter, too. Good Brabantio, Take up this mangled matter at the best. Men do their broken weapons rather use Than their bare hands. BRABANTIO I pray you hear her speak. If she confess that she was half the wooer, Destruction on my head if my bad blame Light on the man.--Come hither, gentle mistress. Do you perceive in all this noble company Where most you owe obedience? DESDEMONA My noble father, I do perceive here a divided duty. To you I am bound for life and education. My life and education both do learn me How to respect you. You are the lord of duty. I am hitherto your daughter. But here's my husband. And so much duty as my mother showed To you, preferring you before her father, So much I challenge that I may profess Due to the Moor my lord. BRABANTIO God be with you! I have done. Please it your Grace, on to the state affairs. I had rather to adopt a child than get it.-- Come hither, Moor. I here do give thee that with all my heart Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart I would keep from thee.--For your sake, jewel, I am glad at soul I have no other child, For thy escape would teach me tyranny, To hang clogs on them.--I have done, my lord. DUKE Let me speak like yourself and lay a sentence, Which as a grise or step may help these lovers Into your favor. When remedies are past, the griefs are ended By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended. To mourn a mischief that is past and gone Is the next way to draw new mischief on. What cannot be preserved when fortune takes, Patience her injury a mock'ry makes. The robbed that smiles steals something from the thief; He robs himself that spends a bootless grief. BRABANTIO So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile, We lose it not so long as we can smile. He bears the sentence well that nothing bears But the free comfort which from thence he hears; But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow That, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow. These sentences to sugar or to gall, Being strong on both sides, are equivocal. But words are words. I never yet did hear That the bruised heart was pierced through the ear. I humbly beseech you, proceed to th' affairs of state. DUKE The Turk with a most mighty preparation makes for Cyprus. Othello, the fortitude of the place is best known to you. And though we have there a substitute of most allowed sufficiency, yet opinion, a sovereign mistress of effects, throws a more safer voice on you. You must therefore be content to slubber the gloss of your new fortunes with this more stubborn and boist'rous expedition. OTHELLO The tyrant custom, most grave senators, Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war My thrice-driven bed of down. I do agnize A natural and prompt alacrity I find in hardness, and do undertake This present wars against the Ottomites. Most humbly, therefore, bending to your state, I crave fit disposition for my wife, Due reference of place and exhibition, With such accommodation and besort As levels with her breeding. DUKE Why, at her father's. BRABANTIO I will not have it so. OTHELLO Nor I. DESDEMONA Nor would I there reside To put my father in impatient thoughts By being in his eye. Most gracious duke, To my unfolding lend your prosperous ear And let me find a charter in your voice T' assist my simpleness. DUKE What would you, Desdemona? DESDEMONA That I love the Moor to live with him My downright violence and storm of fortunes May trumpet to the world. My heart's subdued Even to the very quality of my lord. I saw Othello's visage in his mind, And to his honors and his valiant parts Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate. So that, dear lords, if I be left behind, A moth of peace, and he go to the war, The rites for why I love him are bereft me And I a heavy interim shall support By his dear absence. Let me go with him. OTHELLO Let her have your voice. Vouch with me, heaven, I therefore beg it not To please the palate of my appetite, Nor to comply with heat (the young affects In me defunct) and proper satisfaction, But to be free and bounteous to her mind. And heaven defend your good souls that you think I will your serious and great business scant For she is with me. No, when light-winged toys Of feathered Cupid seel with wanton dullness My speculative and officed instruments, That my disports corrupt and taint my business, Let housewives make a skillet of my helm, And all indign and base adversities Make head against my estimation. DUKE Be it as you shall privately determine, Either for her stay or going. Th' affair cries haste, And speed must answer it. FIRST SENATOR You must away tonight. OTHELLO With all my heart. DUKE At nine i' th' morning here we'll meet again. Othello, leave some officer behind And he shall our commission bring to you, With such things else of quality and respect As doth import you. OTHELLO So please your Grace, my ancient. A man he is of honesty and trust. To his conveyance I assign my wife, With what else needful your good Grace shall think To be sent after me. DUKE Let it be so. Good night to everyone. [To Brabantio.] And, noble signior, If virtue no delighted beauty lack, Your son-in-law is far more fair than black. FIRST SENATOR Adieu, brave Moor, use Desdemona well. BRABANTIO Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see. She has deceived her father, and may thee. [He exits.] OTHELLO My life upon her faith! [The Duke, the Senators, Cassio, and Officers exit.] Honest Iago, My Desdemona must I leave to thee. I prithee let thy wife attend on her, And bring them after in the best advantage.-- Come, Desdemona, I have but an hour Of love, of worldly matters, and direction To spend with thee. We must obey the time. [Othello and Desdemona exit.] RODERIGO Iago-- IAGO What sayst thou, noble heart? RODERIGO What will I do, think'st thou? IAGO Why, go to bed and sleep. RODERIGO I will incontinently drown myself. IAGO If thou dost, I shall never love thee after. Why, thou silly gentleman! RODERIGO It is silliness to live, when to live is torment, and then have we a prescription to die when death is our physician. IAGO O, villainous! I have looked upon the world for four times seven years, and since I could distinguish betwixt a benefit and an injury, I never found man that knew how to love himself. Ere I would say I would drown myself for the love of a guinea hen, I would change my humanity with a baboon. RODERIGO What should I do? I confess it is my shame to be so fond, but it is not in my virtue to amend it. IAGO Virtue? A fig! 'Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners. So that if we will plant nettles or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed up thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs or distract it with many, either to have it sterile with idleness or manured with industry, why the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills. If the balance of our lives had not one scale of reason to poise another of sensuality, the blood and baseness of our natures would conduct us to most prepost'rous conclusions. But we have reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts-- whereof I take this that you call love to be a sect, or scion. RODERIGO It cannot be. IAGO It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of the will. Come, be a man! Drown thyself? Drown cats and blind puppies. I have professed me thy friend, and I confess me knit to thy deserving with cables of perdurable toughness. I could never better stead thee than now. Put money in thy purse. Follow thou the wars; defeat thy favor with an usurped beard. I say, put money in thy purse. It cannot be that Desdemona should long continue her love to the Moor--put money in thy purse-- nor he his to her. It was a violent commencement in her, and thou shalt see an answerable sequestration --put but money in thy purse. These Moors are changeable in their wills. Fill thy purse with money. The food that to him now is as luscious as locusts shall be to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida. She must change for youth. When she is sated with his body she will find the error of her choice. Therefore, put money in thy purse. If thou wilt needs damn thyself, do it a more delicate way than drowning. Make all the money thou canst. If sanctimony and a frail vow betwixt an erring barbarian and a supersubtle Venetian be not too hard for my wits and all the tribe of hell, thou shalt enjoy her. Therefore make money. A pox of drowning thyself! It is clean out of the way. Seek thou rather to be hanged in compassing thy joy than to be drowned and go without her. RODERIGO Wilt thou be fast to my hopes if I depend on the issue? IAGO Thou art sure of me. Go, make money. I have told thee often, and I retell thee again and again, I hate the Moor. My cause is hearted; thine hath no less reason. Let us be conjunctive in our revenge against him. If thou canst cuckold him, thou dost thyself a pleasure, me a sport. There are many events in the womb of time which will be delivered. Traverse, go, provide thy money. We will have more of this tomorrow. Adieu. RODERIGO Where shall we meet i' th' morning? IAGO At my lodging. RODERIGO I'll be with thee betimes. IAGO Go to, farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo? RODERIGO What say you? IAGO No more of drowning, do you hear? RODERIGO I am changed. IAGO Go to, farewell. Put money enough in your purse. RODERIGO I'll sell all my land. [He exits.] IAGO Thus do I ever make my fool my purse. For I mine own gained knowledge should profane If I would time expend with such a snipe But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor, And it is thought abroad that 'twixt my sheets 'Has done my office. I know not if 't be true, But I, for mere suspicion in that kind, Will do as if for surety. He holds me well. The better shall my purpose work on him. Cassio's a proper man. Let me see now: To get his place and to plume up my will In double knavery--How? how?--Let's see. After some time, to abuse Othello's ear That he is too familiar with his wife. He hath a person and a smooth dispose To be suspected, framed to make women false. The Moor is of a free and open nature That thinks men honest that but seem to be so, And will as tenderly be led by th' nose As asses are. I have 't. It is engendered. Hell and night Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light. [He exits.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Montano and two Gentlemen.] MONTANO What from the cape can you discern at sea? FIRST GENTLEMAN Nothing at all. It is a high-wrought flood. I cannot 'twixt the heaven and the main Descry a sail. MONTANO Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at land. A fuller blast ne'er shook our battlements. If it hath ruffianed so upon the sea, What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them, Can hold the mortise? What shall we hear of this? SECOND GENTLEMAN A segregation of the Turkish fleet. For do but stand upon the foaming shore, The chidden billow seems to pelt the clouds, The wind-shaked surge, with high and monstrous mane, Seems to cast water on the burning Bear And quench the guards of th' ever-fixed pole. I never did like molestation view On the enchafed flood. MONTANO If that the Turkish fleet Be not ensheltered and embayed, they are drowned. It is impossible to bear it out. [Enter a third Gentleman.] THIRD GENTLEMAN News, lads! Our wars are done. The desperate tempest hath so banged the Turks That their designment halts. A noble ship of Venice Hath seen a grievous wrack and sufferance On most part of their fleet. MONTANO How? Is this true? THIRD GENTLEMAN The ship is here put in, A Veronesa. Michael Cassio, Lieutenant to the warlike Moor Othello, Is come on shore; the Moor himself at sea, And is in full commission here for Cyprus. MONTANO I am glad on 't. 'Tis a worthy governor. THIRD GENTLEMAN But this same Cassio, though he speak of comfort Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly And prays the Moor be safe, for they were parted With foul and violent tempest. MONTANO Pray heaven he be; For I have served him, and the man commands Like a full soldier. Let's to the seaside, ho! As well to see the vessel that's come in As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello, Even till we make the main and th' aerial blue An indistinct regard. THIRD GENTLEMAN Come, let's do so; For every minute is expectancy Of more arrivance. [Enter Cassio.] CASSIO Thanks, you the valiant of this warlike isle, That so approve the Moor! O, let the heavens Give him defense against the elements, For I have lost him on a dangerous sea. MONTANO Is he well shipped? CASSIO His bark is stoutly timbered, and his pilot Of very expert and approved allowance; Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death, Stand in bold cure. [Voices cry within. "A sail, a sail, a sail!"] [Enter a Messenger.] CASSIO What noise? MESSENGER The town is empty; on the brow o' th' sea Stand ranks of people, and they cry "A sail!" CASSIO My hopes do shape him for the Governor. [A shot.] SECOND GENTLEMAN They do discharge their shot of courtesy. Our friends, at least. CASSIO I pray you, sir, go forth, And give us truth who 'tis that is arrived. SECOND GENTLEMAN I shall. [He exits.] MONTANO But, good lieutenant, is your general wived? CASSIO Most fortunately. He hath achieved a maid That paragons description and wild fame, One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens, And in th' essential vesture of creation Does tire the ingener. [Enter Second Gentleman.] How now? Who has put in? SECOND GENTLEMAN 'Tis one Iago, ancient to the General. CASSIO 'Has had most favorable and happy speed! Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds, The guttered rocks and congregated sands (Traitors ensteeped to clog the guiltless keel), As having sense of beauty, do omit Their mortal natures, letting go safely by The divine Desdemona. MONTANO What is she? CASSIO She that I spake of, our great captain's captain, Left in the conduct of the bold Iago, Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts A sennight's speed. Great Jove, Othello guard, And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath, That he may bless this bay with his tall ship, Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms, Give renewed fire to our extincted spirits, And bring all Cyprus comfort! [Enter Desdemona, Iago, Roderigo, and Emilia.] O, behold, The riches of the ship is come on shore! You men of Cyprus, let her have your knees. [He kneels.] Hail to thee, lady, and the grace of heaven, Before, behind thee, and on every hand Enwheel thee round. [He rises.] DESDEMONA I thank you, valiant Cassio. What tidings can you tell of my lord? CASSIO He is not yet arrived, nor know I aught But that he's well and will be shortly here. DESDEMONA O, but I fear--How lost you company? CASSIO The great contention of sea and skies Parted our fellowship. [Within "A sail, a sail!" A shot.] But hark, a sail! SECOND GENTLEMAN They give their greeting to the citadel. This likewise is a friend. CASSIO See for the news. [Second Gentleman exits.] Good ancient, you are welcome. Welcome, mistress. [He kisses Emilia.] Let it not gall your patience, good Iago, That I extend my manners. 'Tis my breeding That gives me this bold show of courtesy. IAGO Sir, would she give you so much of her lips As of her tongue she oft bestows on me, You would have enough. DESDEMONA Alas, she has no speech! IAGO In faith, too much. I find it still when I have list to sleep. Marry, before your Ladyship, I grant, She puts her tongue a little in her heart And chides with thinking. EMILIA You have little cause to say so. IAGO Come on, come on! You are pictures out of door, bells in your parlors, wildcats in your kitchens, saints in your injuries, devils being offended, players in your huswifery, and huswives in your beds. DESDEMONA Oh, fie upon thee, slanderer. IAGO Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk. You rise to play, and go to bed to work. EMILIA You shall not write my praise. IAGO No, let me not. DESDEMONA What wouldst write of me if thou shouldst praise me? IAGO O, gentle lady, do not put me to 't, For I am nothing if not critical. DESDEMONA Come on, assay.--There's one gone to the harbor? IAGO Ay, madam. DESDEMONA, [aside] I am not merry, but I do beguile The thing I am by seeming otherwise.-- Come, how wouldst thou praise me? IAGO I am about it, but indeed my invention comes from my pate as birdlime does from frieze: it plucks out brains and all. But my muse labors, and thus she is delivered: If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit, The one's for use, the other useth it. DESDEMONA Well praised! How if she be black and witty? IAGO If she be black, and thereto have a wit, She'll find a white that shall her blackness hit. DESDEMONA Worse and worse. EMILIA How if fair and foolish? IAGO She never yet was foolish that was fair, For even her folly helped her to an heir. DESDEMONA These are old fond paradoxes to make fools laugh i' th' alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou for her that's foul and foolish? IAGO There's none so foul and foolish thereunto, But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do. DESDEMONA O heavy ignorance! Thou praisest the worst best. But what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving woman indeed, one that in the authority of her merit did justly put on the vouch of very malice itself? IAGO She that was ever fair and never proud, Had tongue at will and yet was never loud, Never lacked gold and yet went never gay, Fled from her wish, and yet said "Now I may," She that being angered, her revenge being nigh, Bade her wrong stay and her displeasure fly, She that in wisdom never was so frail To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail, She that could think and ne'er disclose her mind, See suitors following and not look behind, She was a wight, if ever such wight were-- DESDEMONA To do what? IAGO To suckle fools and chronicle small beer. DESDEMONA O, most lame and impotent conclusion! --Do not learn of him, Emilia, though he be thy husband.--How say you, Cassio? Is he not a most profane and liberal counselor? CASSIO He speaks home, madam. You may relish him more in the soldier than in the scholar. [Cassio takes Desdemona's hand.] IAGO, [aside] He takes her by the palm. Ay, well said, whisper. With as little a web as this will I ensnare as great a fly as Cassio. Ay, smile upon her, do. I will gyve thee in thine own courtship. You say true, 'tis so indeed. If such tricks as these strip you out of your lieutenantry, it had been better you had not kissed your three fingers so oft, which now again you are most apt to play the sir in. Very good; well kissed; an excellent courtesy! 'Tis so, indeed. Yet again your fingers to your lips? Would they were clyster pipes for your sake! [Trumpets within.] The Moor. I know his trumpet. CASSIO 'Tis truly so. DESDEMONA Let's meet him and receive him. CASSIO Lo, where he comes! [Enter Othello and Attendants.] OTHELLO O, my fair warrior! DESDEMONA My dear Othello! OTHELLO It gives me wonder great as my content To see you here before me. O my soul's joy! If after every tempest come such calms, May the winds blow till they have wakened death, And let the laboring bark climb hills of seas Olympus high, and duck again as low As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die, 'Twere now to be most happy, for I fear My soul hath her content so absolute That not another comfort like to this Succeeds in unknown fate. DESDEMONA The heavens forbid But that our loves and comforts should increase Even as our days do grow! OTHELLO Amen to that, sweet powers! I cannot speak enough of this content. It stops me here; it is too much of joy. [They kiss.] And this, and this, the greatest discords be That e'er our hearts shall make! IAGO, [aside] O, you are well tuned now, But I'll set down the pegs that make this music, As honest as I am. OTHELLO Come. Let us to the castle.-- News, friends! Our wars are done. The Turks are drowned. How does my old acquaintance of this isle?-- Honey, you shall be well desired in Cyprus. I have found great love amongst them. O, my sweet, I prattle out of fashion, and I dote In mine own comforts.--I prithee, good Iago, Go to the bay and disembark my coffers. Bring thou the master to the citadel. He is a good one, and his worthiness Does challenge much respect.--Come, Desdemona. Once more, well met at Cyprus. [All but Iago and Roderigo exit.] IAGO, [to a departing Attendant] Do thou meet me presently at the harbor. [To Roderigo.] Come hither. If thou be'st valiant--as they say base men being in love have then a nobility in their natures more than is native to them--list me. The Lieutenant tonight watches on the court of guard. First, I must tell thee this: Desdemona is directly in love with him. RODERIGO With him? Why, 'tis not possible. IAGO Lay thy finger thus, and let thy soul be instructed. Mark me with what violence she first loved the Moor but for bragging and telling her fantastical lies. And will she love him still for prating? Let not thy discreet heart think it. Her eye must be fed. And what delight shall she have to look on the devil? When the blood is made dull with the act of sport, there should be, again to inflame it and to give satiety a fresh appetite, loveliness in favor, sympathy in years, manners, and beauties, all which the Moor is defective in. Now, for want of these required conveniences, her delicate tenderness will find itself abused, begin to heave the gorge, disrelish and abhor the Moor. Very nature will instruct her in it and compel her to some second choice. Now, sir, this granted--as it is a most pregnant and unforced position--who stands so eminent in the degree of this fortune as Cassio does? A knave very voluble, no further conscionable than in putting on the mere form of civil and humane seeming for the better compassing of his salt and most hidden loose affection. Why, none, why, none! A slipper and subtle knave, a finder-out of occasions, that has an eye can stamp and counterfeit advantages, though true advantage never present itself; a devilish knave! Besides, the knave is handsome, young, and hath all those requisites in him that folly and green minds look after. A pestilent complete knave, and the woman hath found him already. RODERIGO I cannot believe that in her. She's full of most blessed condition. IAGO Blessed fig's end! The wine she drinks is made of grapes. If she had been blessed, she would never have loved the Moor. Blessed pudding! Didst thou not see her paddle with the palm of his hand? Didst not mark that? RODERIGO Yes, that I did. But that was but courtesy. IAGO Lechery, by this hand! An index and obscure prologue to the history of lust and foul thoughts. They met so near with their lips that their breaths embraced together. Villainous thoughts, Roderigo! When these mutualities so marshal the way, hard at hand comes the master and main exercise, th' incorporate conclusion. Pish! But, sir, be you ruled by me. I have brought you from Venice. Watch you tonight. For the command, I'll lay 't upon you. Cassio knows you not. I'll not be far from you. Do you find some occasion to anger Cassio, either by speaking too loud, or tainting his discipline, or from what other course you please, which the time shall more favorably minister. RODERIGO Well. IAGO Sir, he's rash and very sudden in choler, and haply may strike at you. Provoke him that he may, for even out of that will I cause these of Cyprus to mutiny, whose qualification shall come into no true taste again but by the displanting of Cassio. So shall you have a shorter journey to your desires by the means I shall then have to prefer them, and the impediment most profitably removed, without the which there were no expectation of our prosperity. RODERIGO I will do this, if you can bring it to any opportunity. IAGO I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel. I must fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewell. RODERIGO Adieu. [He exits.] IAGO That Cassio loves her, I do well believe 't. That she loves him, 'tis apt and of great credit. The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not, Is of a constant, loving, noble nature, And I dare think he'll prove to Desdemona A most dear husband. Now, I do love her too, Not out of absolute lust (though peradventure I stand accountant for as great a sin) But partly led to diet my revenge For that I do suspect the lusty Moor Hath leaped into my seat--the thought whereof Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards, And nothing can or shall content my soul Till I am evened with him, wife for wife, Or, failing so, yet that I put the Moor At least into a jealousy so strong That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do, If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trace For his quick hunting, stand the putting on, I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip, Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb (For I fear Cassio with my nightcap too), Make the Moor thank me, love me, and reward me For making him egregiously an ass And practicing upon his peace and quiet Even to madness. 'Tis here, but yet confused. Knavery's plain face is never seen till used. [He exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Othello's Herald with a proclamation.] HERALD It is Othello's pleasure, our noble and valiant general, that upon certain tidings now arrived, importing the mere perdition of the Turkish fleet, every man put himself into triumph: some to dance, some to make bonfires, each man to what sport and revels his addition leads him. For besides these beneficial news, it is the celebration of his nuptial. So much was his pleasure should be proclaimed All offices are open, and there is full liberty of feasting from this present hour of five till the bell have told eleven. Heaven bless the isle of Cyprus and our noble general, Othello! [He exits.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Othello, Desdemona, Cassio, and Attendants.] OTHELLO Good Michael, look you to the guard tonight. Let's teach ourselves that honorable stop Not to outsport discretion. CASSIO Iago hath direction what to do, But notwithstanding, with my personal eye Will I look to 't. OTHELLO Iago is most honest. Michael, goodnight. Tomorrow with your earliest Let me have speech with you. [To Desdemona.] Come, my dear love, The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue; That profit's yet to come 'tween me and you.-- Goodnight. [Othello and Desdemona exit, with Attendants.] [Enter Iago.] CASSIO Welcome, Iago. We must to the watch. IAGO Not this hour, lieutenant. 'Tis not yet ten o' th' clock. Our general cast us thus early for the love of his Desdemona--who let us not therefore blame; he hath not yet made wanton the night with her, and she is sport for Jove. CASSIO She's a most exquisite lady. IAGO And, I'll warrant her, full of game. CASSIO Indeed, she's a most fresh and delicate creature. IAGO What an eye she has! Methinks it sounds a parley to provocation. CASSIO An inviting eye, and yet methinks right modest. IAGO And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love? CASSIO She is indeed perfection. IAGO Well, happiness to their sheets! Come, lieutenant, I have a stoup of wine; and here without are a brace of Cyprus gallants that would fain have a measure to the health of black Othello. CASSIO Not tonight, good Iago. I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking. I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment. IAGO O, they are our friends! But one cup; I'll drink for you. CASSIO I have drunk but one cup tonight, and that was craftily qualified too, and behold what innovation it makes here. I am unfortunate in the infirmity and dare not task my weakness with any more. IAGO What, man! 'Tis a night of revels. The gallants desire it. CASSIO Where are they? IAGO Here at the door. I pray you, call them in. CASSIO I'll do 't, but it dislikes me. [He exits.] IAGO If I can fasten but one cup upon him With that which he hath drunk tonight already, He'll be as full of quarrel and offense As my young mistress' dog. Now my sick fool Roderigo, Whom love hath turned almost the wrong side out, To Desdemona hath tonight caroused Potations pottle-deep; and he's to watch. Three else of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits That hold their honors in a wary distance, The very elements of this warlike isle, Have I tonight flustered with flowing cups; And they watch too. Now, 'mongst this flock of drunkards Am I to put our Cassio in some action That may offend the isle. But here they come. If consequence do but approve my dream, My boat sails freely both with wind and stream. [Enter Cassio, Montano, and Gentlemen, followed by Servants with wine.] CASSIO 'Fore God, they have given me a rouse already. MONTANO Good faith, a little one; not past a pint, as I am a soldier. IAGO Some wine, ho! [Sings.] And let me the cannikin clink, clink, And let me the cannikin clink. A soldier's a man, O, man's life's but a span, Why, then, let a soldier drink. Some wine, boys! CASSIO 'Fore God, an excellent song. IAGO I learned it in England, where indeed they are most potent in potting. Your Dane, your German, and your swag-bellied Hollander--drink, ho!--are nothing to your English. CASSIO Is your Englishman so exquisite in his drinking? IAGO Why, he drinks you, with facility, your Dane dead drunk. He sweats not to overthrow your Almain. He gives your Hollander a vomit ere the next pottle can be filled. CASSIO To the health of our general! MONTANO I am for it, lieutenant, and I'll do you justice. IAGO O sweet England! [Sings.] King Stephen was and-a worthy peer, His breeches cost him but a crown; He held them sixpence all too dear; With that he called the tailor lown. He was a wight of high renown, And thou art but of low degree; 'Tis pride that pulls the country down, Then take thy auld cloak about thee. Some wine, ho! CASSIO 'Fore God, this is a more exquisite song than the other! IAGO Will you hear 't again? CASSIO No, for I hold him to be unworthy of his place that does those things. Well, God's above all; and there be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved. IAGO It's true, good lieutenant. CASSIO For mine own part--no offense to the General, nor any man of quality--I hope to be saved. IAGO And so do I too, lieutenant. CASSIO Ay, but, by your leave, not before me. The Lieutenant is to be saved before the Ancient. Let's have no more of this. Let's to our affairs. God forgive us our sins! Gentlemen, let's look to our business. Do not think, gentlemen, I am drunk. This is my ancient, this is my right hand, and this is my left. I am not drunk now. I can stand well enough, and I speak well enough. GENTLEMEN Excellent well. CASSIO Why, very well then. You must not think then that I am drunk. [He exits.] MONTANO To th' platform, masters. Come, let's set the watch. [Gentlemen exit.] IAGO, [to Montano] You see this fellow that is gone before? He's a soldier fit to stand by Caesar And give direction; and do but see his vice. 'Tis to his virtue a just equinox, The one as long as th' other. 'Tis pity of him. I fear the trust Othello puts him in, On some odd time of his infirmity, Will shake this island. MONTANO But is he often thus? IAGO 'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep. He'll watch the horologe a double set If drink rock not his cradle. MONTANO It were well The General were put in mind of it. Perhaps he sees it not, or his good nature Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio And looks not on his evils. Is not this true? [Enter Roderigo.] IAGO, [aside to Roderigo] How now, Roderigo? I pray you, after the Lieutenant, go. [Roderigo exits.] MONTANO And 'tis great pity that the noble Moor Should hazard such a place as his own second With one of an engraffed infirmity. It were an honest action to say so To the Moor. IAGO Not I, for this fair island. I do love Cassio well and would do much To cure him of this evil-- ["Help, help!" within.] But hark! What noise? [Enter Cassio, pursuing Roderigo.] CASSIO Zounds, you rogue, you rascal! MONTANO What's the matter, lieutenant? CASSIO A knave teach me my duty? I'll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle. RODERIGO Beat me? CASSIO Dost thou prate, rogue? [He hits Roderigo.] MONTANO Nay, good lieutenant. I pray you, sir, hold your hand. CASSIO Let me go, sir, or I'll knock you o'er the mazard. MONTANO Come, come, you're drunk. CASSIO Drunk? [They fight.] IAGO, [aside to Roderigo] Away, I say! Go out and cry a mutiny. [Roderigo exits.] Nay, good lieutenant.--God's will, gentlemen!-- Help, ho! Lieutenant--sir--Montano--sir-- Help, masters!--Here's a goodly watch indeed! [A bell is rung.] Who's that which rings the bell? Diablo, ho! The town will rise. God's will, lieutenant, hold! You will be shamed forever. [Enter Othello and Attendants.] OTHELLO What is the matter here? MONTANO Zounds, I bleed still. I am hurt to th' death. He dies! [He attacks Cassio.] OTHELLO Hold, for your lives! IAGO Hold, ho! Lieutenant--sir--Montano-- gentlemen-- Have you forgot all sense of place and duty? Hold! The General speaks to you. Hold, for shame! OTHELLO Why, how now, ho! From whence ariseth this? Are we turned Turks, and to ourselves do that Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites? For Christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl! He that stirs next to carve for his own rage Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion. Silence that dreadful bell. It frights the isle From her propriety. What is the matter, masters? Honest Iago, that looks dead with grieving, Speak. Who began this? On thy love, I charge thee. IAGO I do not know. Friends all but now, even now, In quarter and in terms like bride and groom Divesting them for bed; and then but now, As if some planet had unwitted men, Swords out, and tilting one at other's breast, In opposition bloody. I cannot speak Any beginning to this peevish odds, And would in action glorious I had lost Those legs that brought me to a part of it! OTHELLO How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot? CASSIO I pray you pardon me; I cannot speak. OTHELLO Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil. The gravity and stillness of your youth The world hath noted. And your name is great In mouths of wisest censure. What's the matter That you unlace your reputation thus, And spend your rich opinion for the name Of a night-brawler? Give me answer to it. MONTANO Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger. Your officer Iago can inform you, While I spare speech, which something now offends me, Of all that I do know; nor know I aught By me that's said or done amiss this night, Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice, And to defend ourselves it be a sin When violence assails us. OTHELLO Now, by heaven, My blood begins my safer guides to rule, And passion, having my best judgment collied, Assays to lead the way. Zounds, if I stir, Or do but lift this arm, the best of you Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know How this foul rout began, who set it on; And he that is approved in this offense, Though he had twinned with me, both at a birth, Shall lose me. What, in a town of war Yet wild, the people's hearts brimful of fear, To manage private and domestic quarrel, In night, and on the court and guard of safety? 'Tis monstrous. Iago, who began 't? MONTANO If partially affined, or leagued in office, Thou dost deliver more or less than truth, Thou art no soldier. IAGO Touch me not so near. I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth Than it should do offense to Michael Cassio. Yet I persuade myself, to speak the truth Shall nothing wrong him. Thus it is, general: Montano and myself being in speech, There comes a fellow crying out for help, And Cassio following him with determined sword To execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman [Pointing to Montano.] Steps in to Cassio and entreats his pause. Myself the crying fellow did pursue, Lest by his clamor--as it so fell out-- The town might fall in fright. He, swift of foot, Outran my purpose, and I returned the rather For that I heard the clink and fall of swords And Cassio high in oath, which till tonight I ne'er might say before. When I came back-- For this was brief--I found them close together At blow and thrust, even as again they were When you yourself did part them. More of this matter cannot I report. But men are men; the best sometimes forget. Though Cassio did some little wrong to him, As men in rage strike those that wish them best, Yet surely Cassio, I believe, received From him that fled some strange indignity Which patience could not pass. OTHELLO I know, Iago, Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter, Making it light to Cassio.--Cassio, I love thee, But nevermore be officer of mine. [Enter Desdemona attended.] Look if my gentle love be not raised up! I'll make thee an example. DESDEMONA What is the matter, dear? OTHELLO All's well now, sweeting. Come away to bed. [To Montano.] Sir, for your hurts, Myself will be your surgeon.--Lead him off. [Montano is led off.] Iago, look with care about the town And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted.-- Come, Desdemona. 'Tis the soldier's life To have their balmy slumbers waked with strife. [All but Iago and Cassio exit.] IAGO What, are you hurt, lieutenant? CASSIO Ay, past all surgery. IAGO Marry, God forbid! CASSIO Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputation! IAGO As I am an honest man, I thought you had received some bodily wound. There is more sense in that than in reputation. Reputation is an idle and most false imposition, oft got without merit and lost without deserving. You have lost no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself such a loser. What, man, there are ways to recover the General again! You are but now cast in his mood--a punishment more in policy than in malice, even so as one would beat his offenseless dog to affright an imperious lion. Sue to him again and he's yours. CASSIO I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so good a commander with so slight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. Drunk? And speak parrot? And squabble? Swagger? Swear? And discourse fustian with one's own shadow? O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil! IAGO What was he that you followed with your sword? What had he done to you? CASSIO I know not. IAGO Is 't possible? CASSIO I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. O God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains! That we should with joy, pleasance, revel, and applause transform ourselves into beasts! IAGO Why, but you are now well enough. How came you thus recovered? CASSIO It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give place to the devil wrath. One unperfectness shows me another, to make me frankly despise myself. IAGO Come, you are too severe a moraler. As the time, the place, and the condition of this country stands, I could heartily wish this had not so befallen. But since it is as it is, mend it for your own good. CASSIO I will ask him for my place again; he shall tell me I am a drunkard! Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would stop them all. To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast! O, strange! Every inordinate cup is unblessed, and the ingredient is a devil. IAGO Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature, if it be well used. Exclaim no more against it. And, good lieutenant, I think you think I love you. CASSIO I have well approved it, sir.--I drunk! IAGO You or any man living may be drunk at a time, man. I'll tell you what you shall do. Our general's wife is now the general: I may say so in this respect, for that he hath devoted and given up himself to the contemplation, mark, and denotement of her parts and graces. Confess yourself freely to her. Importune her help to put you in your place again. She is of so free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition she holds it a vice in her goodness not to do more than she is requested. This broken joint between you and her husband entreat her to splinter, and, my fortunes against any lay worth naming, this crack of your love shall grow stronger than it was before. CASSIO You advise me well. IAGO I protest, in the sincerity of love and honest kindness. CASSIO I think it freely; and betimes in the morning I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me. I am desperate of my fortunes if they check me here. IAGO You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant. I must to the watch. CASSIO Good night, honest Iago. [Cassio exits.] IAGO And what's he, then, that says I play the villain, When this advice is free I give and honest, Probal to thinking, and indeed the course To win the Moor again? For 'tis most easy Th' inclining Desdemona to subdue In any honest suit. She's framed as fruitful As the free elements. And then for her To win the Moor--were 't to renounce his baptism, All seals and symbols of redeemed sin-- His soul is so enfettered to her love That she may make, unmake, do what she list, Even as her appetite shall play the god With his weak function. How am I then a villain To counsel Cassio to this parallel course Directly to his good? Divinity of hell! When devils will the blackest sins put on, They do suggest at first with heavenly shows, As I do now. For whiles this honest fool Plies Desdemona to repair his fortune, And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor, I'll pour this pestilence into his ear: That she repeals him for her body's lust; And by how much she strives to do him good, She shall undo her credit with the Moor. So will I turn her virtue into pitch, And out of her own goodness make the net That shall enmesh them all. [Enter Roderigo.] How now, Roderigo? RODERIGO I do follow here in the chase, not like a hound that hunts, but one that fills up the cry. My money is almost spent, I have been tonight exceedingly well cudgeled, and I think the issue will be I shall have so much experience for my pains, and so, with no money at all and a little more wit, return again to Venice. IAGO How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees? Thou know'st we work by wit and not by witchcraft, And wit depends on dilatory time. Does 't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee, And thou, by that small hurt, hast cashiered Cassio. Though other things grow fair against the sun, Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe. Content thyself awhile. By th' Mass, 'tis morning! Pleasure and action make the hours seem short. Retire thee; go where thou art billeted. Away, I say! Thou shalt know more hereafter. Nay, get thee gone. [Roderigo exits.] Two things are to be done. My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress. I'll set her on. Myself the while to draw the Moor apart And bring him jump when he may Cassio find Soliciting his wife. Ay, that's the way. Dull not device by coldness and delay. [He exits.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Cassio with Musicians.] CASSIO Masters, play here (I will content your pains) Something that's brief; and bid "Good morrow, general." [They play.] [Enter the Clown.] CLOWN Why masters, have your instruments been in Naples, that they speak i' th' nose thus? MUSICIAN How, sir, how? CLOWN Are these, I pray you, wind instruments? MUSICIAN Ay, marry, are they, sir. CLOWN O, thereby hangs a tail. MUSICIAN Whereby hangs a tale, sir? CLOWN Marry, sir, by many a wind instrument that I know. But, masters, here's money for you; and the General so likes your music that he desires you, for love's sake, to make no more noise with it. MUSICIAN Well, sir, we will not. CLOWN If you have any music that may not be heard, to 't again. But, as they say, to hear music the General does not greatly care. MUSICIAN We have none such, sir. CLOWN Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I'll away. Go, vanish into air, away! [Musicians exit.] CASSIO Dost thou hear, mine honest friend? CLOWN No, I hear not your honest friend. I hear you. CASSIO Prithee, keep up thy quillets. [Giving money.] There's a poor piece of gold for thee. If the gentlewoman that attends the General's wife be stirring, tell her there's one Cassio entreats her a little favor of speech. Wilt thou do this? CLOWN She is stirring, sir. If she will stir hither, I shall seem to notify unto her. CASSIO Do, good my friend. [Clown exits.] [Enter Iago.] In happy time, Iago. IAGO You have not been abed, then? CASSIO Why, no. The day had broke Before we parted. I have made bold, Iago, To send in to your wife. My suit to her Is that she will to virtuous Desdemona Procure me some access. IAGO I'll send her to you presently, And I'll devise a mean to draw the Moor Out of the way, that your converse and business May be more free. CASSIO I humbly thank you for 't. [Iago exits.] I never knew A Florentine more kind and honest. [Enter Emilia.] EMILIA Good morrow, good lieutenant. I am sorry For your displeasure, but all will sure be well. The General and his wife are talking of it, And she speaks for you stoutly. The Moor replies That he you hurt is of great fame in Cyprus And great affinity, and that in wholesome wisdom He might not but refuse you. But he protests he loves you And needs no other suitor but his likings To take the safest occasion by the front To bring you in again. CASSIO Yet I beseech you, If you think fit, or that it may be done, Give me advantage of some brief discourse With Desdemon alone. EMILIA Pray you come in. I will bestow you where you shall have time To speak your bosom freely. CASSIO I am much bound to you. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Othello, Iago, and Gentlemen.] OTHELLO These letters give, Iago, to the pilot And by him do my duties to the Senate. [He gives Iago some papers.] That done, I will be walking on the works. Repair there to me. IAGO Well, my good lord, I'll do 't. OTHELLO This fortification, gentlemen, shall we see 't? GENTLEMEN We wait upon your Lordship. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Desdemona, Cassio, and Emilia.] DESDEMONA Be thou assured, good Cassio, I will do All my abilities in thy behalf. EMILIA Good madam, do. I warrant it grieves my husband As if the cause were his. DESDEMONA O, that's an honest fellow! Do not doubt, Cassio, But I will have my lord and you again As friendly as you were. CASSIO Bounteous madam, Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio, He's never anything but your true servant. DESDEMONA I know 't. I thank you. You do love my lord; You have known him long; and be you well assured He shall in strangeness stand no farther off Than in a politic distance. CASSIO Ay, but, lady, That policy may either last so long, Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet, Or breed itself so out of circumstance, That, I being absent and my place supplied, My general will forget my love and service. DESDEMONA Do not doubt that. Before Emilia here, I give thee warrant of thy place. Assure thee, If I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it To the last article. My lord shall never rest: I'll watch him tame and talk him out of patience; His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift; I'll intermingle everything he does With Cassio's suit. Therefore be merry, Cassio, For thy solicitor shall rather die Than give thy cause away. [Enter Othello and Iago.] EMILIA Madam, here comes my lord. CASSIO Madam, I'll take my leave. DESDEMONA Why, stay, and hear me speak. CASSIO Madam, not now. I am very ill at ease, Unfit for mine own purposes. DESDEMONA Well, do your discretion. [Cassio exits.] IAGO Ha, I like not that. OTHELLO What dost thou say? IAGO Nothing, my lord; or if--I know not what. OTHELLO Was not that Cassio parted from my wife? IAGO Cassio, my lord? No, sure, I cannot think it That he would steal away so guiltylike, Seeing your coming. OTHELLO I do believe 'twas he. DESDEMONA How now, my lord? I have been talking with a suitor here, A man that languishes in your displeasure. OTHELLO Who is 't you mean? DESDEMONA Why, your lieutenant, Cassio. Good my lord, If I have any grace or power to move you, His present reconciliation take; For if he be not one that truly loves you, That errs in ignorance and not in cunning, I have no judgment in an honest face. I prithee call him back. OTHELLO Went he hence now? DESDEMONA Yes, faith, so humbled That he hath left part of his grief with me To suffer with him. Good love, call him back. OTHELLO Not now, sweet Desdemon. Some other time. DESDEMONA But shall 't be shortly? OTHELLO The sooner, sweet, for you. DESDEMONA Shall 't be tonight at supper? OTHELLO No, not tonight. DESDEMONA Tomorrow dinner, then? OTHELLO I shall not dine at home; I meet the captains at the citadel. DESDEMONA Why then tomorrow night, or Tuesday morn, On Tuesday noon or night; on Wednesday morn. I prithee name the time, but let it not Exceed three days. In faith, he's penitent; And yet his trespass, in our common reason-- Save that, they say, the wars must make example Out of her best--is not almost a fault T' incur a private check. When shall he come? Tell me, Othello. I wonder in my soul What you would ask me that I should deny, Or stand so mamm'ring on? What? Michael Cassio, That came a-wooing with you, and so many a time, When I have spoke of you dispraisingly, Hath ta'en your part--to have so much to do To bring him in! By 'r Lady, I could do much-- OTHELLO Prithee, no more. Let him come when he will; I will deny thee nothing. DESDEMONA Why, this is not a boon! 'Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves, Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm, Or sue to you to do a peculiar profit To your own person. Nay, when I have a suit Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed, It shall be full of poise and difficult weight, And fearful to be granted. OTHELLO I will deny thee nothing! Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this, To leave me but a little to myself. DESDEMONA Shall I deny you? No. Farewell, my lord. OTHELLO Farewell, my Desdemona. I'll come to thee straight. DESDEMONA Emilia, come.--Be as your fancies teach you. Whate'er you be, I am obedient. [Desdemona and Emilia exit.] OTHELLO Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul But I do love thee! And when I love thee not, Chaos is come again. IAGO My noble lord-- OTHELLO What dost thou say, Iago? IAGO Did Michael Cassio, When you wooed my lady, know of your love? OTHELLO He did, from first to last. Why dost thou ask? IAGO But for a satisfaction of my thought, No further harm. OTHELLO Why of thy thought, Iago? IAGO I did not think he had been acquainted with her. OTHELLO O yes, and went between us very oft. IAGO Indeed? OTHELLO Indeed? Ay, indeed! Discern'st thou aught in that? Is he not honest? IAGO Honest, my lord? OTHELLO Honest--ay, honest. IAGO My lord, for aught I know. OTHELLO What dost thou think? IAGO Think, my lord? OTHELLO "Think, my lord?" By heaven, thou echo'st me As if there were some monster in thy thought Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean something. I heard thee say even now, thou lik'st not that, When Cassio left my wife. What didst not like? And when I told thee he was of my counsel In my whole course of wooing, thou cried'st "Indeed?" And didst contract and purse thy brow together As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain Some horrible conceit. If thou dost love me, Show me thy thought. IAGO My lord, you know I love you. OTHELLO I think thou dost; And for I know thou 'rt full of love and honesty And weigh'st thy words before thou giv'st them breath, Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more. For such things in a false, disloyal knave Are tricks of custom; but in a man that's just, They're close dilations working from the heart That passion cannot rule. IAGO For Michael Cassio, I dare be sworn I think that he is honest. OTHELLO I think so too. IAGO Men should be what they seem; Or those that be not, would they might seem none! OTHELLO Certain, men should be what they seem. IAGO Why then, I think Cassio's an honest man. OTHELLO Nay, yet there's more in this. I prithee speak to me as to thy thinkings, As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts The worst of words. IAGO Good my lord, pardon me. Though I am bound to every act of duty, I am not bound to that all slaves are free to. Utter my thoughts? Why, say they are vile and false-- As where's that palace whereinto foul things Sometimes intrude not? Who has that breast so pure But some uncleanly apprehensions Keep leets and law days and in sessions sit With meditations lawful? OTHELLO Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago, If thou but think'st him wronged and mak'st his ear A stranger to thy thoughts. IAGO I do beseech you, Though I perchance am vicious in my guess-- As, I confess, it is my nature's plague To spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy Shapes faults that are not--that your wisdom From one that so imperfectly conceits Would take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble Out of his scattering and unsure observance. It were not for your quiet nor your good, Nor for my manhood, honesty, and wisdom, To let you know my thoughts. OTHELLO What dost thou mean? IAGO Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls. Who steals my purse steals trash. 'Tis something, nothing; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands. But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him And makes me poor indeed. OTHELLO By heaven, I'll know thy thoughts. IAGO You cannot, if my heart were in your hand, Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody. OTHELLO Ha? IAGO O, beware, my lord, of jealousy! It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock The meat it feeds on. That cuckold lives in bliss Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger; But O, what damned minutes tells he o'er Who dotes, yet doubts; suspects, yet strongly loves! OTHELLO O misery! IAGO Poor and content is rich, and rich enough; But riches fineless is as poor as winter To him that ever fears he shall be poor. Good God, the souls of all my tribe defend From jealousy! OTHELLO Why, why is this? Think'st thou I'd make a life of jealousy, To follow still the changes of the moon With fresh suspicions? No. To be once in doubt Is once to be resolved. Exchange me for a goat When I shall turn the business of my soul To such exsufflicate and blown surmises, Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make me jealous To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company, Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well. Where virtue is, these are more virtuous. Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw The smallest fear or doubt of her revolt, For she had eyes, and chose me. No, Iago, I'll see before I doubt; when I doubt, prove; And on the proof, there is no more but this: Away at once with love or jealousy. IAGO I am glad of this, for now I shall have reason To show the love and duty that I bear you With franker spirit. Therefore, as I am bound, Receive it from me. I speak not yet of proof. Look to your wife; observe her well with Cassio; Wear your eyes thus, not jealous nor secure. I would not have your free and noble nature, Out of self-bounty, be abused. Look to 't. I know our country disposition well. In Venice they do let God see the pranks They dare not show their husbands. Their best conscience Is not to leave 't undone, but keep 't unknown. OTHELLO Dost thou say so? IAGO She did deceive her father, marrying you, And when she seemed to shake and fear your looks, She loved them most. OTHELLO And so she did. IAGO Why, go to, then! She that, so young, could give out such a seeming, To seel her father's eyes up close as oak, He thought 'twas witchcraft! But I am much to blame. I humbly do beseech you of your pardon For too much loving you. OTHELLO I am bound to thee forever. IAGO I see this hath a little dashed your spirits. OTHELLO Not a jot, not a jot. IAGO I' faith, I fear it has. I hope you will consider what is spoke Comes from my love. But I do see you're moved. I am to pray you not to strain my speech To grosser issues nor to larger reach Than to suspicion. OTHELLO I will not. IAGO Should you do so, my lord, My speech should fall into such vile success As my thoughts aim not at. Cassio's my worthy friend. My lord, I see you're moved. OTHELLO No, not much moved. I do not think but Desdemona's honest. IAGO Long live she so! And long live you to think so! OTHELLO And yet, how nature erring from itself-- IAGO Ay, there's the point. As, to be bold with you, Not to affect many proposed matches Of her own clime, complexion, and degree, Whereto we see in all things nature tends-- Foh! One may smell in such a will most rank, Foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural-- But pardon me--I do not in position Distinctly speak of her, though I may fear Her will, recoiling to her better judgment, May fall to match you with her country forms And happily repent. OTHELLO Farewell, farewell! If more thou dost perceive, let me know more. Set on thy wife to observe. Leave me, Iago. IAGO, [beginning to exit] My lord, I take my leave. OTHELLO Why did I marry? This honest creature doubtless Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds. IAGO, [returning] My lord, I would I might entreat your Honor To scan this thing no farther. Leave it to time. Although 'tis fit that Cassio have his place-- For sure he fills it up with great ability-- Yet, if you please to hold him off awhile, You shall by that perceive him and his means. Note if your lady strain his entertainment With any strong or vehement importunity. Much will be seen in that. In the meantime, Let me be thought too busy in my fears-- As worthy cause I have to fear I am-- And hold her free, I do beseech your Honor. OTHELLO Fear not my government. IAGO I once more take my leave. [He exits.] OTHELLO This fellow's of exceeding honesty, And knows all qualities with a learned spirit Of human dealings. If I do prove her haggard, Though that her jesses were my dear heartstrings, I'd whistle her off and let her down the wind To prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black And have not those soft parts of conversation That chamberers have, or for I am declined Into the vale of years--yet that's not much-- She's gone, I am abused, and my relief Must be to loathe her. O curse of marriage, That we can call these delicate creatures ours And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad And live upon the vapor of a dungeon Than keep a corner in the thing I love For others' uses. Yet 'tis the plague of great ones; Prerogatived are they less than the base. 'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death. Even then this forked plague is fated to us When we do quicken. Look where she comes. [Enter Desdemona and Emilia.] If she be false, heaven mocks itself! I'll not believe 't. DESDEMONA How now, my dear Othello? Your dinner, and the generous islanders By you invited, do attend your presence. OTHELLO I am to blame. DESDEMONA Why do you speak so faintly? Are you not well? OTHELLO I have a pain upon my forehead, here. DESDEMONA Faith, that's with watching. 'Twill away again. Let me but bind it hard; within this hour It will be well. OTHELLO Your napkin is too little. Let it alone. [The handkerchief falls, unnoticed.] Come, I'll go in with you. DESDEMONA I am very sorry that you are not well. [Othello and Desdemona exit.] EMILIA, [picking up the handkerchief] I am glad I have found this napkin. This was her first remembrance from the Moor. My wayward husband hath a hundred times Wooed me to steal it. But she so loves the token (For he conjured her she should ever keep it) That she reserves it evermore about her To kiss and talk to. I'll have the work ta'en out And give 't Iago. What he will do with it Heaven knows, not I. I nothing but to please his fantasy. [Enter Iago.] IAGO How now? What do you here alone? EMILIA Do not you chide. I have a thing for you. IAGO You have a thing for me? It is a common thing-- EMILIA Ha? IAGO To have a foolish wife. EMILIA O, is that all? What will you give me now For that same handkerchief? IAGO What handkerchief? EMILIA What handkerchief? Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona, That which so often you did bid me steal. IAGO Hast stol'n it from her? EMILIA No, faith, she let it drop by negligence, And to th' advantage I, being here, took 't up. Look, here 'tis. IAGO A good wench! Give it me. EMILIA What will you do with 't, that you have been so earnest To have me filch it? IAGO, [snatching it] Why, what is that to you? EMILIA If it be not for some purpose of import, Give 't me again. Poor lady, she'll run mad When she shall lack it. IAGO Be not acknown on 't. I have use for it. Go, leave me. [Emilia exits.] I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin And let him find it. Trifles light as air Are to the jealous confirmations strong As proofs of holy writ. This may do something. The Moor already changes with my poison; Dangerous conceits are in their natures poisons, Which at the first are scarce found to distaste, But with a little act upon the blood Burn like the mines of sulfur. [Enter Othello.] I did say so. Look where he comes. Not poppy nor mandragora Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep Which thou owedst yesterday. OTHELLO Ha, ha, false to me? IAGO Why, how now, general? No more of that! OTHELLO Avaunt! Begone! Thou hast set me on the rack. I swear 'tis better to be much abused Than but to know 't a little. IAGO How now, my lord? OTHELLO What sense had I of her stol'n hours of lust? I saw 't not, thought it not; it harmed not me. I slept the next night well, fed well, was free and merry. I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips. He that is robbed, not wanting what is stol'n, Let him not know 't, and he's not robbed at all. IAGO I am sorry to hear this. OTHELLO I had been happy if the general camp, Pioners and all, had tasted her sweet body, So I had nothing known. O, now, forever Farewell the tranquil mind! Farewell content! Farewell the plumed troops and the big wars That makes ambition virtue! O, farewell! Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, th' ear-piercing fife, The royal banner, and all quality, Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war! And O you mortal engines, whose rude throats Th' immortal Jove's dread clamors counterfeit, Farewell! Othello's occupation's gone! IAGO Is 't possible, my lord? OTHELLO Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore! Be sure of it. Give me the ocular proof, Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul, Thou hadst been better have been born a dog Than answer my waked wrath. IAGO Is 't come to this? OTHELLO Make me to see 't, or at the least so prove it That the probation bear no hinge nor loop To hang a doubt on, or woe upon thy life! IAGO My noble lord-- OTHELLO If thou dost slander her and torture me, Never pray more. Abandon all remorse; On horror's head horrors accumulate; Do deeds to make heaven weep, all Earth amazed; For nothing canst thou to damnation add Greater than that. IAGO O grace! O heaven forgive me! Are you a man? Have you a soul or sense? God b' wi' you. Take mine office.--O wretched fool, That liv'st to make thine honesty a vice!-- O monstrous world! Take note, take note, O world: To be direct and honest is not safe.-- I thank you for this profit, and from hence I'll love no friend, sith love breeds such offense. OTHELLO Nay, stay. Thou shouldst be honest. IAGO I should be wise; for honesty's a fool And loses that it works for. OTHELLO By the world, I think my wife be honest and think she is not. I think that thou art just and think thou art not. I'll have some proof! Her name, that was as fresh As Dian's visage, is now begrimed and black As mine own face. If there be cords, or knives, Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams, I'll not endure it. Would I were satisfied! IAGO I see you are eaten up with passion. I do repent me that I put it to you. You would be satisfied? OTHELLO Would? Nay, and I will. IAGO And may; but how? How satisfied, my lord? Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on, Behold her topped? OTHELLO Death and damnation! O! IAGO It were a tedious difficulty, I think, To bring them to that prospect. Damn them then If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster More than their own! What then? How then? What shall I say? Where's satisfaction? It is impossible you should see this, Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys, As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross As ignorance made drunk. But yet I say, If imputation and strong circumstances Which lead directly to the door of truth Will give you satisfaction, you might have 't. OTHELLO Give me a living reason she's disloyal. IAGO I do not like the office, But sith I am entered in this cause so far, Pricked to 't by foolish honesty and love, I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately, And being troubled with a raging tooth I could not sleep. There are a kind of men So loose of soul that in their sleeps will mutter Their affairs. One of this kind is Cassio. In sleep I heard him say "Sweet Desdemona, Let us be wary, let us hide our loves." And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand, Cry "O sweet creature!" then kiss me hard, As if he plucked up kisses by the roots That grew upon my lips; then laid his leg O'er my thigh, and sighed, and kissed, and then Cried "Cursed fate that gave thee to the Moor!" OTHELLO O monstrous! Monstrous! IAGO Nay, this was but his dream. OTHELLO But this denoted a foregone conclusion. 'Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream. IAGO And this may help to thicken other proofs That do demonstrate thinly. OTHELLO I'll tear her all to pieces. IAGO Nay, but be wise. Yet we see nothing done. She may be honest yet. Tell me but this: Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief Spotted with strawberries in your wife's hand? OTHELLO I gave her such a one. 'Twas my first gift. IAGO I know not that; but such a handkerchief-- I am sure it was your wife's--did I today See Cassio wipe his beard with. OTHELLO If it be that-- IAGO If it be that, or any that was hers, It speaks against her with the other proofs. OTHELLO O, that the slave had forty thousand lives! One is too poor, too weak for my revenge. Now do I see 'tis true. Look here, Iago, All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven. 'Tis gone. Arise, black vengeance, from the hollow hell! Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throne To tyrannous hate! Swell, bosom, with thy fraught, For 'tis of aspics' tongues! IAGO Yet be content. OTHELLO O, blood, blood, blood! IAGO Patience, I say. Your mind perhaps may change. OTHELLO Never, Iago. Like to the Pontic Sea, Whose icy current and compulsive course Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on To the Propontic and the Hellespont, Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love, Till that a capable and wide revenge Swallow them up. [He kneels.] Now by yond marble heaven, In the due reverence of a sacred vow, I here engage my words. IAGO Do not rise yet. [Iago kneels.] Witness, you ever-burning lights above, You elements that clip us round about, Witness that here Iago doth give up The execution of his wit, hands, heart To wronged Othello's service! Let him command, And to obey shall be in me remorse, What bloody business ever. [They rise.] OTHELLO I greet thy love Not with vain thanks but with acceptance bounteous, And will upon the instant put thee to 't. Within these three days let me hear thee say That Cassio's not alive. IAGO My friend is dead. 'Tis done at your request. But let her live. OTHELLO Damn her, lewd minx! O, damn her, damn her! Come, go with me apart. I will withdraw To furnish me with some swift means of death For the fair devil. Now art thou my lieutenant. IAGO I am your own forever. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Desdemona, Emilia, and Clown.] DESDEMONA Do you know, sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio lies? CLOWN I dare not say he lies anywhere. DESDEMONA Why, man? CLOWN He's a soldier, and for me to say a soldier lies, 'tis stabbing. DESDEMONA Go to! Where lodges he? CLOWN To tell you where he lodges is to tell you where I lie. DESDEMONA Can anything be made of this? CLOWN I know not where he lodges; and for me to devise a lodging and say he lies here, or he lies there, were to lie in mine own throat. DESDEMONA Can you inquire him out, and be edified by report? CLOWN I will catechize the world for him--that is, make questions, and by them answer. DESDEMONA Seek him, bid him come hither. Tell him I have moved my lord on his behalf and hope all will be well. CLOWN To do this is within the compass of man's wit, and therefore I will attempt the doing it. [Clown exits.] DESDEMONA Where should I lose that handkerchief, Emilia? EMILIA I know not, madam. DESDEMONA Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse Full of crusadoes. And but my noble Moor Is true of mind and made of no such baseness As jealous creatures are, it were enough To put him to ill thinking. EMILIA Is he not jealous? DESDEMONA Who, he? I think the sun where he was born Drew all such humors from him. EMILIA Look where he comes. [Enter Othello.] DESDEMONA I will not leave him now till Cassio Be called to him.--How is 't with you, my lord? OTHELLO Well, my good lady. [Aside.] O, hardness to dissemble!-- How do you, Desdemona? DESDEMONA Well, my good lord. OTHELLO Give me your hand. [He takes her hand.] This hand is moist, my lady. DESDEMONA It yet has felt no age nor known no sorrow. OTHELLO This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart. Hot, hot, and moist. This hand of yours requires A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer, Much castigation, exercise devout; For here's a young and sweating devil here That commonly rebels. 'Tis a good hand, A frank one. DESDEMONA You may indeed say so, For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart. OTHELLO A liberal hand! The hearts of old gave hands, But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts. DESDEMONA I cannot speak of this. Come now, your promise. OTHELLO What promise, chuck? DESDEMONA I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you. OTHELLO I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me. Lend me thy handkerchief. DESDEMONA Here, my lord. OTHELLO That which I gave you. DESDEMONA I have it not about me. OTHELLO Not? DESDEMONA No, faith, my lord. OTHELLO That's a fault. That handkerchief Did an Egyptian to my mother give. She was a charmer, and could almost read The thoughts of people. She told her, while she kept it, 'Twould make her amiable and subdue my father Entirely to her love. But if she lost it, Or made a gift of it, my father's eye Should hold her loathed, and his spirits should hunt After new fancies. She, dying, gave it me, And bid me, when my fate would have me wived, To give it her. I did so; and take heed on 't, Make it a darling like your precious eye. To lose 't or give 't away were such perdition As nothing else could match. DESDEMONA Is 't possible? OTHELLO 'Tis true. There's magic in the web of it. A sybil that had numbered in the world The sun to course two hundred compasses, In her prophetic fury sewed the work. The worms were hallowed that did breed the silk, And it was dyed in mummy, which the skillful Conserved of maidens' hearts. DESDEMONA I' faith, is 't true? OTHELLO Most veritable. Therefore, look to 't well. DESDEMONA Then would to God that I had never seen 't! OTHELLO Ha? Wherefore? DESDEMONA Why do you speak so startingly and rash? OTHELLO Is 't lost? Is 't gone? Speak, is 't out o' th' way? DESDEMONA Heaven bless us! OTHELLO Say you? DESDEMONA It is not lost, but what an if it were? OTHELLO How? DESDEMONA I say it is not lost. OTHELLO Fetch 't. Let me see 't! DESDEMONA Why, so I can. But I will not now. This is a trick to put me from my suit. Pray you, let Cassio be received again. OTHELLO Fetch me the handkerchief! [Aside.] My mind misgives. DESDEMONA Come, come. You'll never meet a more sufficient man. OTHELLO The handkerchief! DESDEMONA I pray, talk me of Cassio. OTHELLOThe handkerchief! DESDEMONA A man that all his time Hath founded his good fortunes on your love; Shared dangers with you-- OTHELLO The handkerchief! DESDEMONA I' faith, you are to blame. OTHELLO Zounds! [Othello exits.] EMILIA Is not this man jealous? DESDEMONA I ne'er saw this before. Sure, there's some wonder in this handkerchief! I am most unhappy in the loss of it. EMILIA 'Tis not a year or two shows us a man. They are all but stomachs, and we all but food; They eat us hungerly, and when they are full They belch us. [Enter Iago and Cassio.] Look you--Cassio and my husband. IAGO, [to Cassio] There is no other way; 'tis she must do 't, And, lo, the happiness! Go and importune her. DESDEMONA How now, good Cassio, what's the news with you? CASSIO Madam, my former suit. I do beseech you That by your virtuous means I may again Exist, and be a member of his love Whom I with all the office of my heart Entirely honor. I would not be delayed. If my offense be of such mortal kind That nor my service past nor present sorrows Nor purposed merit in futurity Can ransom me into his love again, But to know so must be my benefit. So shall I clothe me in a forced content, And shut myself up in some other course To fortune's alms. DESDEMONA Alas, thrice-gentle Cassio, My advocation is not now in tune. My lord is not my lord; nor should I know him Were he in favor as in humor altered. So help me every spirit sanctified As I have spoken for you all my best, And stood within the blank of his displeasure For my free speech! You must awhile be patient. What I can do I will; and more I will Than for myself I dare. Let that suffice you. IAGO Is my lord angry? EMILIA He went hence but now, And certainly in strange unquietness. IAGO Can he be angry? I have seen the cannon When it hath blown his ranks into the air And, like the devil, from his very arm Puffed his own brother--and is he angry? Something of moment then. I will go meet him. There's matter in 't indeed if he be angry. DESDEMONA I prithee do so. [He exits.] Something, sure, of state, Either from Venice, or some unhatched practice Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him, Hath puddled his clear spirit; and in such cases Men's natures wrangle with inferior things, Though great ones are their object. 'Tis even so. For let our finger ache, and it endues Our other healthful members even to a sense Of pain. Nay, we must think men are not gods, Nor of them look for such observancy As fits the bridal. Beshrew me much, Emilia, I was--unhandsome warrior as I am!-- Arraigning his unkindness with my soul. But now I find I had suborned the witness, And he's indicted falsely. EMILIA Pray heaven it be State matters, as you think, and no conception Nor no jealous toy concerning you. DESDEMONA Alas the day, I never gave him cause! EMILIA But jealous souls will not be answered so. They are not ever jealous for the cause, But jealous for they're jealous. It is a monster Begot upon itself, born on itself. DESDEMONA Heaven keep that monster from Othello's mind! EMILIA Lady, amen. DESDEMONA I will go seek him.--Cassio, walk hereabout. If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit And seek to effect it to my uttermost. CASSIO I humbly thank your Ladyship. [Desdemona and Emilia exit.] [Enter Bianca.] BIANCA 'Save you, friend Cassio! CASSIO What make you from home? How is 't with you, my most fair Bianca? I' faith, sweet love, I was coming to your house. BIANCA And I was going to your lodging, Cassio. What, keep a week away? Seven days and nights, Eightscore eight hours, and lovers' absent hours More tedious than the dial eightscore times? O weary reck'ning! CASSIO Pardon me, Bianca. I have this while with leaden thoughts been pressed, But I shall in a more continuate time Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca, [Giving her Desdemona's handkerchief.] Take me this work out. BIANCA O, Cassio, whence came this? This is some token from a newer friend. To the felt absence now I feel a cause. Is 't come to this? Well, well. CASSIO Go to, woman! Throw your vile guesses in the devil's teeth, From whence you have them. You are jealous now That this is from some mistress, some remembrance. No, by my faith, Bianca. BIANCA Why, whose is it? CASSIO I know not neither. I found it in my chamber. I like the work well. Ere it be demanded, As like enough it will, I would have it copied. Take it, and do 't, and leave me for this time. BIANCA Leave you? Wherefore? CASSIO I do attend here on the General, And think it no addition, nor my wish, To have him see me womaned. BIANCA Why, I pray you? CASSIO Not that I love you not. BIANCA But that you do not love me! I pray you bring me on the way a little, And say if I shall see you soon at night. CASSIO 'Tis but a little way that I can bring you, For I attend here. But I'll see you soon. BIANCA 'Tis very good. I must be circumstanced. [They exit.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Othello and Iago.] IAGO Will you think so? OTHELLO Think so, Iago? IAGO What, To kiss in private? OTHELLO An unauthorized kiss! IAGO Or to be naked with her friend in bed An hour or more, not meaning any harm? OTHELLO Naked in bed, Iago, and not mean harm? It is hypocrisy against the devil! They that mean virtuously, and yet do so, The devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt heaven. IAGO If they do nothing, 'tis a venial slip. But if I give my wife a handkerchief-- OTHELLO What then? IAGO Why then, 'tis hers, my lord, and being hers, She may, I think, bestow 't on any man. OTHELLO She is protectress of her honor, too. May she give that? IAGO Her honor is an essence that's not seen; They have it very oft that have it not. But for the handkerchief-- OTHELLO By heaven, I would most gladly have forgot it. Thou saidst--O, it comes o'er my memory As doth the raven o'er the infectious house, Boding to all--he had my handkerchief. IAGO Ay, what of that? OTHELLO That's not so good now. IAGO What If I had said I had seen him do you wrong? Or heard him say (as knaves be such abroad, Who having, by their own importunate suit Or voluntary dotage of some mistress, Convinced or supplied them, cannot choose But they must blab)-- OTHELLO Hath he said anything? IAGO He hath, my lord, but be you well assured, No more than he'll unswear. OTHELLO What hath he said? IAGO Faith, that he did--I know not what he did. OTHELLO What? What? IAGO Lie-- OTHELLO With her? IAGO With her--on her--what you will. OTHELLO Lie with her? Lie on her? We say "lie on her" when they belie her. Lie with her--Zounds, that's fulsome! Handkerchief--confessions--handkerchief. To confess and be hanged for his labor. First to be hanged and then to confess--I tremble at it. Nature would not invest herself in such shadowing passion without some instruction. It is not words that shakes me thus. Pish! Noses, ears, and lips--is 't possible? Confess--handkerchief--O, devil! [He falls in a trance.] IAGO Work on, My medicine, work! Thus credulous fools are caught, And many worthy and chaste dames even thus, All guiltless, meet reproach.--What ho! My lord! My lord, I say. Othello! [Enter Cassio.] How now, Cassio? CASSIO What's the matter? IAGO My lord is fall'n into an epilepsy. This is his second fit. He had one yesterday. CASSIO Rub him about the temples. IAGO No, forbear. The lethargy must have his quiet course. If not, he foams at mouth, and by and by Breaks out to savage madness. Look, he stirs. Do you withdraw yourself a little while. He will recover straight. When he is gone, I would on great occasion speak with you. [Cassio exits.] How is it, general? Have you not hurt your head? OTHELLO Dost thou mock me? IAGO I mock you not, by heaven! Would you would bear your fortune like a man! OTHELLO A horned man's a monster and a beast. IAGO There's many a beast, then, in a populous city, And many a civil monster. OTHELLO Did he confess it? IAGO Good sir, be a man! Think every bearded fellow that's but yoked May draw with you. There's millions now alive That nightly lie in those unproper beds Which they dare swear peculiar. Your case is better. O, 'tis the spite of hell, the fiend's arch-mock, To lip a wanton in a secure couch And to suppose her chaste! No, let me know, And knowing what I am, I know what she shall be. OTHELLO O, thou art wise, 'tis certain. IAGO Stand you awhile apart. Confine yourself but in a patient list. Whilst you were here, o'erwhelmed with your grief-- A passion most unsuiting such a man-- Cassio came hither. I shifted him away And laid good 'scuses upon your ecstasy, Bade him anon return and here speak with me, The which he promised. Do but encave yourself, And mark the fleers, the gibes, and notable scorns That dwell in every region of his face. For I will make him tell the tale anew-- Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when He hath and is again to cope your wife. I say but mark his gesture. Marry, patience, Or I shall say you're all in all in spleen, And nothing of a man. OTHELLO Dost thou hear, Iago, I will be found most cunning in my patience, But (dost thou hear?) most bloody. IAGO That's not amiss. But yet keep time in all. Will you withdraw? [Othello withdraws.] Now will I question Cassio of Bianca, A huswife that by selling her desires Buys herself bread and clothes. It is a creature That dotes on Cassio--as 'tis the strumpet's plague To beguile many and be beguiled by one. He, when he hears of her, cannot restrain From the excess of laughter. Here he comes. [Enter Cassio.] As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad, And his unbookish jealousy must construe Poor Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light behaviors Quite in the wrong.--How do you, lieutenant? CASSIO The worser that you give me the addition Whose want even kills me. IAGO Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on 't. Now, if this suit lay in Bianca's power, How quickly should you speed! CASSIO, [laughing] Alas, poor caitiff! OTHELLO Look how he laughs already! IAGO I never knew woman love man so. CASSIO Alas, poor rogue, I think i' faith she loves me. OTHELLO Now he denies it faintly and laughs it out. IAGO Do you hear, Cassio? OTHELLO Now he importunes him To tell it o'er. Go to, well said, well said. IAGO She gives it out that you shall marry her. Do you intend it? CASSIO Ha, ha, ha! OTHELLO Do you triumph, Roman? Do you triumph? CASSIO I marry her? What, a customer? Prithee bear some charity to my wit! Do not think it so unwholesome. Ha, ha, ha! OTHELLO So, so, so, so. They laugh that wins. IAGO Faith, the cry goes that you marry her. CASSIO Prithee say true! IAGO I am a very villain else. OTHELLO Have you scored me? Well. CASSIO This is the monkey's own giving out. She is persuaded I will marry her out of her own love and flattery, not out of my promise. OTHELLO Iago beckons me. Now he begins the story. CASSIO She was here even now. She haunts me in every place. I was the other day talking on the sea-bank with certain Venetians, and thither comes the bauble. By this hand, she falls thus about my neck! OTHELLO Crying, "O dear Cassio," as it were; his gesture imports it. CASSIO So hangs and lolls and weeps upon me, so shakes and pulls me. Ha, ha, ha! OTHELLO Now he tells how she plucked him to my chamber.--O, I see that nose of yours, but not that dog I shall throw it to. CASSIO Well, I must leave her company. IAGO Before me, look where she comes. [Enter Bianca.] CASSIO 'Tis such another fitchew--marry, a perfumed one!--What do you mean by this haunting of me? BIANCA Let the devil and his dam haunt you! What did you mean by that same handkerchief you gave me even now? I was a fine fool to take it! I must take out the work? A likely piece of work, that you should find it in your chamber and know not who left it there! This is some minx's token, and I must take out the work! There, give it your hobbyhorse. Wheresoever you had it, I'll take out no work on 't. CASSIO How now, my sweet Bianca? How now? How now? OTHELLO By heaven, that should be my handkerchief! BIANCA If you'll come to supper tonight you may. If you will not, come when you are next prepared for. [She exits.] IAGO After her, after her! CASSIO Faith, I must. She'll rail in the streets else. IAGO Will you sup there? CASSIO Faith, I intend so. IAGO Well, I may chance to see you, for I would very fain speak with you. CASSIO Prithee come. Will you? IAGO Go to; say no more. [Cassio exits.] OTHELLO, [coming forward] How shall I murder him, Iago? IAGO Did you perceive how he laughed at his vice? OTHELLO O Iago! IAGO And did you see the handkerchief? OTHELLO Was that mine? IAGO Yours, by this hand! And to see how he prizes the foolish woman your wife! She gave it him, and he hath giv'n it his whore. OTHELLO I would have him nine years a-killing! A fine woman, a fair woman, a sweet woman! IAGO Nay, you must forget that. OTHELLO Ay, let her rot and perish and be damned tonight, for she shall not live. No, my heart is turned to stone. I strike it, and it hurts my hand. O, the world hath not a sweeter creature! She might lie by an emperor's side and command him tasks. IAGO Nay, that's not your way. OTHELLO Hang her, I do but say what she is! So delicate with her needle, an admirable musician-- O, she will sing the savageness out of a bear! Of so high and plenteous wit and invention! IAGO She's the worse for all this. OTHELLO O, a thousand, a thousand times!--And then of so gentle a condition! IAGO Ay, too gentle. OTHELLO Nay, that's certain. But yet the pity of it, Iago! O, Iago, the pity of it, Iago! IAGO If you are so fond over her iniquity, give her patent to offend, for if it touch not you, it comes near nobody. OTHELLO I will chop her into messes! Cuckold me? IAGO O, 'tis foul in her. OTHELLO With mine officer! IAGO That's fouler. OTHELLO Get me some poison, Iago, this night. I'll not expostulate with her lest her body and beauty unprovide my mind again. This night, Iago. IAGO Do it not with poison. Strangle her in her bed, even the bed she hath contaminated. OTHELLO Good, good. The justice of it pleases. Very good. IAGO And for Cassio, let me be his undertaker. You shall hear more by midnight. OTHELLO Excellent good. [A trumpet sounds.] What trumpet is that same? IAGO I warrant something from Venice. [Enter Lodovico, Desdemona, and Attendants.] 'Tis Lodovico. This comes from the Duke. See, your wife's with him. LODOVICO God save you, worthy general. OTHELLO With all my heart, sir. LODOVICO The Duke and the Senators of Venice greet you. [He hands Othello a paper.] OTHELLO I kiss the instrument of their pleasures. DESDEMONA And what's the news, good cousin Lodovico? IAGO I am very glad to see you, signior. Welcome to Cyprus. LODOVICO I thank you. How does Lieutenant Cassio? IAGO Lives, sir. DESDEMONA Cousin, there's fall'n between him and my lord An unkind breach, but you shall make all well. OTHELLO Are you sure of that? DESDEMONA My lord? OTHELLO, [reading] "This fail you not to do, as you will"-- LODOVICO He did not call; he's busy in the paper. Is there division 'twixt my lord and Cassio? DESDEMONA A most unhappy one. I would do much T' atone them, for the love I bear to Cassio. OTHELLO Fire and brimstone! DESDEMONA My lord? OTHELLO Are you wise? DESDEMONA What, is he angry? LODOVICO May be the letter moved him. For, as I think, they do command him home, Deputing Cassio in his government. DESDEMONA By my troth, I am glad on 't. OTHELLO Indeed? DESDEMONA My lord? OTHELLO I am glad to see you mad. DESDEMONA Why, sweet Othello! OTHELLO, [striking her] Devil! DESDEMONA I have not deserved this. LODOVICO My lord, this would not be believed in Venice, Though I should swear I saw 't. 'Tis very much. Make her amends. She weeps. OTHELLO O, devil, devil! If that the Earth could teem with woman's tears, Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile. Out of my sight! DESDEMONA I will not stay to offend you. [She begins to leave.] LODOVICO Truly an obedient lady. I do beseech your Lordship call her back. OTHELLO Mistress. DESDEMONA, [turning back] My lord? OTHELLO What would you with her, sir? LODOVICO Who, I, my lord? OTHELLO Ay, you did wish that I would make her turn. Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on, And turn again. And she can weep, sir, weep. And she's obedient, as you say, obedient. Very obedient.--Proceed you in your tears.-- Concerning this, sir--O, well-painted passion!-- I am commanded home.--Get you away. I'll send for you anon.--Sir, I obey the mandate And will return to Venice.--Hence, avaunt! [Desdemona exits.] Cassio shall have my place. And, sir, tonight I do entreat that we may sup together. You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus. Goats and monkeys! [He exits.] LODOVICO Is this the noble Moor, whom our full senate Call all in all sufficient? Is this the nature Whom passion could not shake, whose solid virtue The shot of accident nor dart of chance Could neither graze nor pierce? IAGO He is much changed. LODOVICO Are his wits safe? Is he not light of brain? IAGO He's that he is. I may not breathe my censure What he might be. If what he might he is not, I would to heaven he were. LODOVICO What? Strike his wife? IAGO 'Faith, that was not so well. Yet would I knew That stroke would prove the worst. LODOVICO Is it his use? Or did the letters work upon his blood And new-create this fault? IAGO Alas, alas! It is not honesty in me to speak What I have seen and known. You shall observe him, And his own courses will denote him so That I may save my speech. Do but go after And mark how he continues. LODOVICO I am sorry that I am deceived in him. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Othello and Emilia.] OTHELLO You have seen nothing then? EMILIA Nor ever heard, nor ever did suspect. OTHELLO Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together. EMILIA But then I saw no harm, and then I heard Each syllable that breath made up between them. OTHELLO What, did they never whisper? EMILIA Never, my lord. OTHELLO Nor send you out o' th' way? EMILIA Never. OTHELLO To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing? EMILIA Never, my lord. OTHELLO That's strange. EMILIA I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest, Lay down my soul at stake. If you think other, Remove your thought. It doth abuse your bosom. If any wretch have put this in your head, Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse, For if she be not honest, chaste, and true, There's no man happy. The purest of their wives Is foul as slander. OTHELLO Bid her come hither. Go. [Emilia exits.] She says enough. Yet she's a simple bawd That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore, A closet lock and key of villainous secrets. And yet she'll kneel and pray. I have seen her do 't. [Enter Desdemona and Emilia.] DESDEMONA My lord, what is your will? OTHELLO Pray you, chuck, come hither. DESDEMONA What is your pleasure? OTHELLO Let me see your eyes. Look in my face. DESDEMONA What horrible fancy's this? OTHELLO, [to Emilia] Some of your function, mistress. Leave procreants alone, and shut the door. Cough, or cry "hem," if anybody come. Your mystery, your mystery! Nay, dispatch. [Emilia exits.] DESDEMONA, [kneeling] Upon my knees, what doth your speech import? I understand a fury in your words, But not the words. OTHELLO Why? What art thou? DESDEMONA Your wife, my lord, your true and loyal wife. OTHELLO Come, swear it. Damn thyself, Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves Should fear to seize thee. Therefore be double damned. Swear thou art honest. DESDEMONA Heaven doth truly know it. OTHELLO Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell. DESDEMONA, [standing] To whom, my lord? With whom? How am I false? OTHELLO Ah, Desdemon, away, away, away! DESDEMONA Alas the heavy day, why do you weep? Am I the motive of these tears, my lord? If haply you my father do suspect An instrument of this your calling back, Lay not your blame on me. If you have lost him, I have lost him too. OTHELLO Had it pleased heaven To try me with affliction, had they rained All kind of sores and shames on my bare head, Steeped me in poverty to the very lips, Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes, I should have found in some place of my soul A drop of patience. But alas, to make me A fixed figure for the time of scorn To point his slow unmoving finger at-- Yet could I bear that too, well, very well. But there where I have garnered up my heart, Where either I must live or bear no life, The fountain from the which my current runs Or else dries up--to be discarded thence, Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads To knot and gender in--turn thy complexion there, Patience, thou young and rose-lipped cherubin, Ay, there look grim as hell. DESDEMONA I hope my noble lord esteems me honest. OTHELLO O, ay, as summer flies are in the shambles, That quicken even with blowing! O thou weed, Who art so lovely fair, and smell'st so sweet That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst ne'er been born! DESDEMONA Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed? OTHELLO Was this fair paper, this most goodly book, Made to write "whore" upon? What committed? Committed? O thou public commoner, I should make very forges of my cheeks That would to cinders burn up modesty, Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed? Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks; The bawdy wind that kisses all it meets Is hushed within the hollow mine of earth And will not hear 't. What committed? Impudent strumpet! DESDEMONA By heaven, you do me wrong! OTHELLO Are not you a strumpet? DESDEMONA No, as I am a Christian! If to preserve this vessel for my lord From any other foul unlawful touch Be not to be a strumpet, I am none. OTHELLO What, not a whore? DESDEMONA No, as I shall be saved. OTHELLO Is 't possible? DESDEMONA O, heaven forgive us! OTHELLO I cry you mercy, then. I took you for that cunning whore of Venice That married with Othello.--You, mistress, [Enter Emilia.] That have the office opposite to Saint Peter And keeps the gate of hell--you, you, ay, you! We have done our course. There's money for your pains. [He gives her money.] I pray you turn the key and keep our counsel. [He exits.] EMILIA Alas, what does this gentleman conceive? How do you, madam? How do you, my good lady? DESDEMONA Faith, half asleep. EMILIA Good madam, what's the matter with my lord? DESDEMONA With who? EMILIA Why, with my lord, madam. DESDEMONA Who is thy lord? EMILIA He that is yours, sweet lady. DESDEMONA I have none. Do not talk to me, Emilia. I cannot weep, nor answers have I none But what should go by water. Prithee, tonight Lay on my bed my wedding sheets. Remember. And call thy husband hither. EMILIA Here's a change indeed. [She exits.] DESDEMONA 'Tis meet I should be used so, very meet. How have I been behaved that he might stick The small'st opinion on my least misuse? [Enter Iago and Emilia.] IAGO What is your pleasure, madam? How is 't with you? DESDEMONA I cannot tell. Those that do teach young babes Do it with gentle means and easy tasks. He might have chid me so, for, in good faith, I am a child to chiding. IAGO What is the matter, lady? EMILIA Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhored her, Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her As true hearts cannot bear. DESDEMONA Am I that name, Iago? IAGO What name, fair lady? DESDEMONA Such as she said my lord did say I was. EMILIA He called her "whore." A beggar in his drink Could not have laid such terms upon his callet. IAGO Why did he so? DESDEMONA I do not know. I am sure I am none such. IAGO Do not weep, do not weep! Alas the day! EMILIA Hath she forsook so many noble matches, Her father and her country and her friends, To be called "whore"? Would it not make one weep? DESDEMONA It is my wretched fortune. IAGO Beshrew him for 't! How comes this trick upon him? DESDEMONA Nay, heaven doth know. EMILIA I will be hanged if some eternal villain, Some busy and insinuating rogue, Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office, Have not devised this slander. I will be hanged else. IAGO Fie, there is no such man. It is impossible. DESDEMONA If any such there be, heaven pardon him. EMILIA A halter pardon him, and hell gnaw his bones! Why should he call her "whore"? Who keeps her company? What place? What time? What form? What likelihood? The Moor's abused by some most villainous knave, Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow. O heaven, that such companions thou 'dst unfold, And put in every honest hand a whip To lash the rascals naked through the world, Even from the east to th' west! IAGO Speak within door. EMILIA O, fie upon them! Some such squire he was That turned your wit the seamy side without And made you to suspect me with the Moor. IAGO You are a fool. Go to! DESDEMONA Alas, Iago, What shall I do to win my lord again? Good friend, go to him. For by this light of heaven, I know not how I lost him. [She kneels.] Here I kneel. If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love, Either in discourse of thought or actual deed, Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense Delighted them in any other form, Or that I do not yet, and ever did, And ever will--though he do shake me off To beggarly divorcement--love him dearly, Comfort forswear me! [She stands.] Unkindness may do much, And his unkindness may defeat my life, But never taint my love. I cannot say "whore"-- It does abhor me now I speak the word. To do the act that might the addition earn, Not the world's mass of vanity could make me. IAGO I pray you be content. 'Tis but his humor. The business of the state does him offense, And he does chide with you. DESDEMONA If 'twere no other-- IAGO It is but so, I warrant. [Trumpets sound.] Hark how these instruments summon to supper. The messengers of Venice stays the meat. Go in and weep not. All things shall be well. [Desdemona and Emilia exit.] [Enter Roderigo.] How now, Roderigo? RODERIGO I do not find That thou deal'st justly with me. IAGO What in the contrary? RODERIGO Every day thou daff'st me with some device, Iago, and rather, as it seems to me now, keep'st from me all conveniency than suppliest me with the least advantage of hope. I will indeed no longer endure it. Nor am I yet persuaded to put up in peace what already I have foolishly suffered. IAGO Will you hear me, Roderigo? RODERIGO Faith, I have heard too much, and your words and performances are no kin together. IAGO You charge me most unjustly. RODERIGO With naught but truth. I have wasted myself out of my means. The jewels you have had from me to deliver to Desdemona would half have corrupted a votaress. You have told me she hath received them, and returned me expectations and comforts of sudden respect and acquaintance, but I find none. IAGO Well, go to! Very well. RODERIGO "Very well." "Go to!" I cannot go to, man, nor 'tis not very well! By this hand, I say 'tis very scurvy, and begin to find myself fopped in it. IAGO Very well. RODERIGO I tell you 'tis not very well! I will make myself known to Desdemona. If she will return me my jewels, I will give over my suit and repent my unlawful solicitation. If not, assure yourself I will seek satisfaction of you. IAGO You have said now. RODERIGO Ay, and said nothing but what I protest intendment of doing. IAGO Why, now I see there's mettle in thee, and even from this instant do build on thee a better opinion than ever before. Give me thy hand, Roderigo. Thou hast taken against me a most just exception, but yet I protest I have dealt most directly in thy affair. RODERIGO It hath not appeared. IAGO I grant indeed it hath not appeared, and your suspicion is not without wit and judgment. But, Roderigo, if thou hast that in thee indeed which I have greater reason to believe now than ever--I mean purpose, courage, and valor--this night show it. If thou the next night following enjoy not Desdemona, take me from this world with treachery and devise engines for my life. RODERIGO Well, what is it? Is it within reason and compass? IAGO Sir, there is especial commission come from Venice to depute Cassio in Othello's place. RODERIGO Is that true? Why, then, Othello and Desdemona return again to Venice. IAGO O, no. He goes into Mauritania and takes away with him the fair Desdemona, unless his abode be lingered here by some accident--wherein none can be so determinate as the removing of Cassio. RODERIGO How do you mean, removing him? IAGO Why, by making him uncapable of Othello's place: knocking out his brains. RODERIGO And that you would have me to do? IAGO Ay, if you dare do yourself a profit and a right. He sups tonight with a harlotry, and thither will I go to him. He knows not yet of his honorable fortune. If you will watch his going thence (which I will fashion to fall out between twelve and one), you may take him at your pleasure. I will be near to second your attempt, and he shall fall between us. Come, stand not amazed at it, but go along with me. I will show you such a necessity in his death that you shall think yourself bound to put it on him. It is now high supper time, and the night grows to waste. About it! RODERIGO I will hear further reason for this. IAGO And you shall be satisfied. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Othello, Lodovico, Desdemona, Emilia, and Attendants.] LODOVICO I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no further. OTHELLO O, pardon me, 'twill do me good to walk. LODOVICO Madam, good night. I humbly thank your Ladyship. DESDEMONA Your Honor is most welcome. OTHELLO Will you walk, sir?--O, Desdemona-- DESDEMONA My lord? OTHELLO Get you to bed on th' instant. I will be returned forthwith. Dismiss your attendant there. Look 't be done. DESDEMONA I will, my lord. [All but Desdemona and Emilia exit.] EMILIA How goes it now? He looks gentler than he did. DESDEMONA He says he will return incontinent, And hath commanded me to go to bed, And bade me to dismiss you. EMILIA Dismiss me? DESDEMONA It was his bidding. Therefore, good Emilia, Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu. We must not now displease him. EMILIA I would you had never seen him. DESDEMONA So would not I. My love doth so approve him That even his stubbornness, his checks, his frowns-- Prithee, unpin me--have grace and favor in them. EMILIA I have laid those sheets you bade me on the bed. DESDEMONA All's one. Good faith, how foolish are our minds! If I do die before thee, prithee, shroud me In one of those same sheets. EMILIA Come, come, you talk! DESDEMONA My mother had a maid called Barbary. She was in love, and he she loved proved mad And did forsake her. She had a song of willow, An old thing 'twas, but it expressed her fortune, And she died singing it. That song tonight Will not go from my mind. I have much to do But to go hang my head all at one side And sing it like poor Barbary. Prithee, dispatch. EMILIA Shall I go fetch your nightgown? DESDEMONA No, unpin me here. This Lodovico is a proper man. EMILIA A very handsome man. DESDEMONA He speaks well. EMILIA I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip. DESDEMONA, [singing] The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree, Sing all a green willow. Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee, Sing willow, willow, willow. The fresh streams ran by her and murmured her moans, Sing willow, willow, willow; Her salt tears fell from her, and softened the stones-- Lay by these. Sing willow, willow, willow. Prithee hie thee! He'll come anon. Sing all a green willow must be my garland. Let nobody blame him, his scorn I approve. Nay, that's not next. Hark, who is 't that knocks? EMILIA It's the wind. DESDEMONA I called my love false love, but what said he then? Sing willow, willow, willow. If I court more women, you'll couch with more men.-- So, get thee gone. Good night. Mine eyes do itch; Doth that bode weeping? EMILIA 'Tis neither here nor there. DESDEMONA I have heard it said so. O these men, these men! Dost thou in conscience think--tell me, Emilia-- That there be women do abuse their husbands In such gross kind? EMILIA There be some such, no question. DESDEMONA Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world? EMILIA Why, would not you? DESDEMONA No, by this heavenly light! EMILIA Nor I neither, by this heavenly light. I might do 't as well i' th' dark. DESDEMONA Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world? EMILIA The world's a huge thing. It is a great price for a small vice. DESDEMONA In troth, I think thou wouldst not. EMILIA In troth, I think I should, and undo 't when I had done it. Marry, I would not do such a thing for a joint ring, nor for measures of lawn, nor for gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any petty exhibition. But for the whole world--'Uds pity! Who would not make her husband a cuckold to make him a monarch? I should venture purgatory for 't. DESDEMONA Beshrew me if I would do such a wrong for the whole world! EMILIA Why, the wrong is but a wrong i' th' world; and, having the world for your labor, 'tis a wrong in your own world, and you might quickly make it right. DESDEMONA I do not think there is any such woman. EMILIA Yes, a dozen; and as many to th' vantage as would store the world they played for. But I do think it is their husbands' faults If wives do fall. Say that they slack their duties, And pour our treasures into foreign laps; Or else break out in peevish jealousies, Throwing restraint upon us. Or say they strike us, Or scant our former having in despite. Why, we have galls, and though we have some grace, Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know Their wives have sense like them. They see, and smell, And have their palates both for sweet and sour, As husbands have. What is it that they do When they change us for others? Is it sport? I think it is. And doth affection breed it? I think it doth. Is 't frailty that thus errs? It is so too. And have not we affections, Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have? Then let them use us well. Else let them know, The ills we do, their ills instruct us so. DESDEMONA Good night, good night. God me such uses send, Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend. [They exit.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Iago and Roderigo.] IAGO Here, stand behind this bulk. Straight will he come. Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home. Quick, quick! Fear nothing. I'll be at thy elbow. It makes us or it mars us--think on that, And fix most firm thy resolution. RODERIGO Be near at hand. I may miscarry in 't. IAGO Here, at thy hand. Be bold and take thy stand. [He moves aside.] RODERIGO I have no great devotion to the deed, And yet he hath given me satisfying reasons. 'Tis but a man gone. Forth, my sword! He dies. [He draws his sword.] IAGO, [aside] I have rubbed this young quat almost to the sense, And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio, Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other, Every way makes my gain. Live Roderigo, He calls me to a restitution large Of gold and jewels that I bobbed from him As gifts to Desdemona. It must not be. If Cassio do remain, He hath a daily beauty in his life That makes me ugly. And besides, the Moor May unfold me to him. There stand I in much peril. No, he must die. Be 't so. I hear him coming. [Enter Cassio.] RODERIGO I know his gait. 'Tis he!--Villain, thou diest! [He thrusts at Cassio.] CASSIO That thrust had been mine enemy indeed But that my coat is better than thou know'st. I will make proof of thine. [He draws, and stabs Roderigo.] RODERIGO O, I am slain! [Roderigo falls.] [Iago stabs Cassio in the leg, and exits.] CASSIO I am maimed forever! Help, ho! Murder, murder! [Enter Othello.] OTHELLO The voice of Cassio! Iago keeps his word. RODERIGO O, villain that I am! OTHELLO, [aside] It is even so. CASSIO O, help ho! Light! A surgeon! OTHELLO, [aside] 'Tis he! O brave Iago, honest and just, That hast such noble sense of thy friend's wrong! Thou teachest me.--Minion, your dear lies dead, And your unblest fate hies. Strumpet, I come. Forth of my heart those charms, thine eyes, are blotted. Thy bed, lust-stained, shall with lust's blood be spotted. [Othello exits.] [Enter Lodovico and Gratiano.] CASSIO What ho! No watch? No passage? Murder, murder! GRATIANO 'Tis some mischance. The voice is very direful. CASSIO O, help! LODOVICO Hark! RODERIGO O wretched villain! LODOVICO Two or three groan. 'Tis heavy night. These may be counterfeits. Let's think 't unsafe To come in to the cry without more help. RODERIGO Nobody come? Then shall I bleed to death. [Enter Iago with a light.] LODOVICO Hark! GRATIANO Here's one comes in his shirt, with light and weapons. IAGO Who's there? Whose noise is this that cries on murder? LODOVICO We do not know. IAGO Did not you hear a cry? CASSIO Here, here! For heaven's sake, help me! IAGO What's the matter? GRATIANO, [to Lodovico] This is Othello's ancient, as I take it. LODOVICO The same indeed, a very valiant fellow. IAGO, [to Cassio] What are you here that cry so grievously? CASSIO Iago? O, I am spoiled, undone by villains. Give me some help! IAGO O me, lieutenant! What villains have done this? CASSIO I think that one of them is hereabout And cannot make away. IAGO O treacherous villains! [To Lodovico and Gratiano.] What are you there? Come in, and give some help. RODERIGO O, help me here! CASSIO That's one of them. IAGO, [to Roderigo] O murd'rous slave! O villain! [He stabs Roderigo.] RODERIGO O damned Iago! O inhuman dog! IAGO Kill men i' th' dark?--Where be these bloody thieves? How silent is this town! Ho, murder, murder!-- What may you be? Are you of good or evil? LODOVICO As you shall prove us, praise us. IAGO Signior Lodovico? LODOVICO He, sir. IAGO I cry you mercy. Here's Cassio hurt by villains. GRATIANO Cassio? IAGO How is 't, brother? CASSIO My leg is cut in two. IAGO Marry, heaven forbid! Light, gentlemen. I'll bind it with my shirt. [Enter Bianca.] BIANCA What is the matter, ho? Who is 't that cried? IAGO Who is 't that cried? BIANCA O, my dear Cassio, My sweet Cassio! O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio! IAGO O notable strumpet! Cassio, may you suspect Who they should be that have thus mangled you? CASSIO No. GRATIANO I am sorry to find you thus; I have been to seek you. IAGO Lend me a garter. So.--O for a chair To bear him easily hence! BIANCA Alas, he faints. O, Cassio, Cassio, Cassio! IAGO Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash To be a party in this injury.-- Patience awhile, good Cassio.--Come, come; Lend me a light. [Peering at Roderigo.] Know we this face or no? Alas, my friend and my dear countryman Roderigo? No! Yes, sure. O heaven, Roderigo! GRATIANO What, of Venice? IAGO Even he, sir. Did you know him? GRATIANO Know him? Ay. IAGO Signior Gratiano? I cry your gentle pardon. These bloody accidents must excuse my manners That so neglected you. GRATIANO I am glad to see you. IAGO How do you, Cassio?--O, a chair, a chair! GRATIANO Roderigo? IAGO He, he, 'tis he! [A chair is brought in.] O, that's well said; the chair.-- Some good man bear him carefully from hence. I'll fetch the General's surgeon.-- For you, mistress, Save you your labor.--He that lies slain here, Cassio, Was my dear friend. What malice was between you? CASSIO None in the world. Nor do I know the man. IAGO, [to Bianca] What, look you pale?--O, bear him out o' th' air. [Cassio, in the chair, and Roderigo are carried off.] [To Gratiano and Lodovico.] Stay you, good gentlemen.--Look you pale, mistress?-- Do you perceive the gastness of her eye?-- Nay, if you stare, we shall hear more anon.-- Behold her well. I pray you, look upon her. Do you see, gentlemen? Nay, guiltiness will speak Though tongues were out of use. [Enter Emilia.] EMILIA Alas, what is the matter? What is the matter, husband? IAGO Cassio hath here been set on in the dark By Roderigo and fellows that are scaped. He's almost slain, and Roderigo dead. EMILIA Alas, good gentleman! Alas, good Cassio! IAGO This is the fruits of whoring. Prithee, Emilia, Go know of Cassio where he supped tonight. [To Bianca.] What, do you shake at that? BIANCA He supped at my house, but I therefore shake not. IAGO O, did he so? I charge you go with me. EMILIA O fie upon thee, strumpet! BIANCA I am no strumpet, but of life as honest As you that thus abuse me. EMILIA As I? Faugh! Fie upon thee! IAGO Kind gentlemen, let's go see poor Cassio dressed.-- Come, mistress, you must tell 's another tale.-- Emilia, run you to the citadel And tell my lord and lady what hath happed.-- Will you go on afore? [Aside.] This is the night That either makes me or fordoes me quite. [They exit in different directions.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Othello with a light, and Desdemona in her bed.] OTHELLO It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul. Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars. It is the cause. Yet I'll not shed her blood, Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, And smooth as monumental alabaster. Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men. Put out the light, and then put out the light. If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, I can again thy former light restore Should I repent me. But once put out thy light, Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature, I know not where is that Promethean heat That can thy light relume. When I have plucked the rose, I cannot give it vital growth again. It needs must wither. I'll smell it on the tree. O balmy breath, that dost almost persuade Justice to break her sword! [He kisses her.] One more, one more. Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee And love thee after. One more, and this the last. [He kisses her.] So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep, But they are cruel tears. This sorrow's heavenly: It strikes where it doth love. She wakes. DESDEMONA Who's there? Othello? OTHELLO Ay, Desdemona. DESDEMONA Will you come to bed, my lord? OTHELLO Have you prayed tonight, Desdemon? DESDEMONA Ay, my lord. OTHELLO If you bethink yourself of any crime Unreconciled as yet to heaven and grace, Solicit for it straight. DESDEMONA Alack, my lord, What may you mean by that? OTHELLO Well, do it, and be brief. I will walk by. I would not kill thy unprepared spirit. No, heaven forfend! I would not kill thy soul. DESDEMONA Talk you of killing? OTHELLO Ay, I do. DESDEMONA Then heaven have mercy on me. OTHELLO Amen, with all my heart. DESDEMONA If you say so, I hope you will not kill me. OTHELLO Humh. DESDEMONA And yet I fear you, for you're fatal then When your eyes roll so. Why I should fear I know not, Since guiltiness I know not, but yet I feel I fear. OTHELLO Think on thy sins. DESDEMONA They are loves I bear to you. OTHELLO Ay, and for that thou diest. DESDEMONA That death's unnatural that kills for loving. Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip? Some bloody passion shakes your very frame. These are portents, but yet I hope, I hope They do not point on me. OTHELLO Peace, and be still. DESDEMONA I will so. What's the matter? OTHELLO That handkerchief Which I so loved, and gave thee, thou gav'st to Cassio. DESDEMONA No, by my life and soul! Send for the man And ask him. OTHELLO Sweet soul, take heed, take heed of perjury. Thou art on thy deathbed. DESDEMONA Ay, but not yet to die. OTHELLO Yes, presently. Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin. For to deny each article with oath Cannot remove nor choke the strong conception That I do groan withal. Thou art to die. DESDEMONA Then Lord have mercy on me! OTHELLO I say "Amen." DESDEMONA And have you mercy, too. I never did Offend you in my life, never loved Cassio But with such general warranty of heaven As I might love. I never gave him token. OTHELLO By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in 's hand! O perjured woman, thou dost stone my heart And mak'st me call what I intend to do A murder, which I thought a sacrifice! I saw the handkerchief! DESDEMONA He found it, then. I never gave it him. Send for him hither. Let him confess a truth. OTHELLO He hath confessed. DESDEMONA What, my lord? OTHELLO That he hath used thee. DESDEMONA How? Unlawfully? OTHELLO Ay. DESDEMONA He will not say so. OTHELLO No. His mouth is stopped. Honest Iago hath ta'en order for 't. DESDEMONA O, my fear interprets. What, is he dead? OTHELLO Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge Had stomach for them all. DESDEMONA Alas, he is betrayed, and I undone. [She weeps.] OTHELLO Out, strumpet! Weep'st thou for him to my face? DESDEMONA O banish me, my lord, but kill me not! OTHELLO Down, strumpet! DESDEMONA Kill me tomorrow, let me live tonight. OTHELLO Nay, if you strive-- DESDEMONA But half an hour! OTHELLO Being done, there is no pause. DESDEMONA But while I say one prayer! OTHELLO It is too late. [He smothers her.] EMILIA, [within] My lord, my lord? What ho! My lord, my lord! OTHELLO What noise is this?--Not dead? Not yet quite dead? I that am cruel am yet merciful. I would not have thee linger in thy pain. So, so. EMILIA, [within] What, ho! My lord, my lord! OTHELLO Who's there? EMILIA, [within] O, good my lord, I would speak a word with you. OTHELLO Yes. 'Tis Emilia.--By and by.--She's dead. 'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death. The noise was here. Ha, no more moving? Still as the grave. Shall she come in? Were 't good? I think she stirs again. No. What's best to do? If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife. My wife, my wife! What wife? I have no wife. O insupportable! O heavy hour! Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse Of sun and moon, and that th' affrighted globe Should yawn at alteration. EMILIA, [within] I do beseech you That I may speak with you. O, good my lord-- OTHELLO I had forgot thee. O, come in, Emilia.-- Soft, by and by, let me the curtains draw.-- Where art thou? [Enter Emilia.] What's the matter with thee now? EMILIA O, my good lord, yonder's foul murders done. OTHELLO What? Now? EMILIA But now, my lord. OTHELLO It is the very error of the moon. She comes more nearer Earth than she was wont And makes men mad. EMILIA Cassio, my lord, hath killed A young Venetian called Roderigo. OTHELLO Roderigo killed? And Cassio killed? EMILIA No, Cassio is not killed. OTHELLO Not Cassio killed? Then murder's out of tune, And sweet revenge grows harsh. DESDEMONA O falsely, falsely murdered. EMILIA O Lord, what cry is that? OTHELLO That? What? EMILIA Out, and alas, that was my lady's voice! Help! Help ho! Help! O lady, speak again! Sweet Desdemona, O sweet mistress, speak! DESDEMONA A guiltless death I die. EMILIA O, who hath done this deed? DESDEMONA Nobody. I myself. Farewell. Commend me to my kind lord. O, farewell. [She dies.] OTHELLO Why, how should she be murdered? EMILIA Alas, who knows? OTHELLO You heard her say herself, it was not I. EMILIA She said so. I must needs report the truth. OTHELLO She's like a liar gone to burning hell! 'Twas I that killed her. EMILIA O, the more angel she, and you the blacker devil! OTHELLO She turned to folly, and she was a whore. EMILIA Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil! OTHELLO She was false as water. EMILIA Thou art rash as fire to say That she was false. O, she was heavenly true! OTHELLO Cassio did top her. Ask thy husband else. O, I were damned beneath all depth in hell But that I did proceed upon just grounds To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all. EMILIA My husband? OTHELLO Thy husband. EMILIA That she was false to wedlock? OTHELLO Ay, with Cassio. Had she been true, If heaven would make me such another world Of one entire and perfect chrysolite, I'd not have sold her for it. EMILIA My husband? OTHELLO Ay, 'twas he that told me on her first. An honest man he is, and hates the slime That sticks on filthy deeds. EMILIA My husband? OTHELLO What needs this iterance, woman? I say, thy husband. EMILIA O mistress, villainy hath made mocks with love!-- My husband say she was false? OTHELLO He, woman. I say thy husband. Dost understand the word? My friend, thy husband; honest, honest Iago. EMILIA If he say so, may his pernicious soul Rot half a grain a day! He lies to th' heart! She was too fond of her most filthy bargain. [He draws his sword.] OTHELLO Hah? EMILIA Do thy worst! This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven Than thou wast worthy her. OTHELLO Peace, you were best! EMILIA Thou hast not half that power to do me harm As I have to be hurt. O gull! O dolt, As ignorant as dirt! Thou hast done a deed-- I care not for thy sword. I'll make thee known, Though I lost twenty lives. Help! Help, ho! Help! The Moor hath killed my mistress! Murder, murder! [Enter Montano, Gratiano, and Iago.] MONTANO What is the matter? How now, general? EMILIA O, are you come, Iago? You have done well, That men must lay their murders on your neck. GRATIANO What is the matter? EMILIA, [to Iago] Disprove this villain, if thou be'st a man. He says thou told'st him that his wife was false. I know thou didst not. Thou 'rt not such a villain. Speak, for my heart is full. IAGO I told him what I thought, and told no more Than what he found himself was apt and true. EMILIA But did you ever tell him she was false? IAGO I did. EMILIA You told a lie, an odious, damned lie! Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie! She false with Cassio? Did you say with Cassio? IAGO With Cassio, mistress. Go to! Charm your tongue. EMILIA I will not charm my tongue. I am bound to speak. My mistress here lies murdered in her bed. ALL O heavens forfend! EMILIA, [to Iago] And your reports have set the murder on! OTHELLO Nay, stare not, masters; it is true indeed. GRATIANO 'Tis a strange truth. MONTANO O monstrous act! EMILIA Villainy, villainy, villainy! I think upon 't, I think! I smell 't! O villainy! I thought so then. I'll kill myself for grief! O villainy! Villainy! IAGO What, are you mad? I charge you get you home. EMILIA Good gentlemen, let me have leave to speak. 'Tis proper I obey him, but not now. Perchance, Iago, I will ne'er go home. OTHELLO O, O, O! [Othello falls on the bed.] EMILIA Nay, lay thee down, and roar! For thou hast killed the sweetest innocent That e'er did lift up eye. OTHELLO, [standing] O, she was foul!-- I scarce did know you, uncle. There lies your niece, Whose breath indeed these hands have newly stopped. I know this act shows horrible and grim. GRATIANO Poor Desdemon, I am glad thy father's dead. Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief Shore his old thread in twain. Did he live now, This sight would make him do a desperate turn, Yea, curse his better angel from his side, And fall to reprobance. OTHELLO 'Tis pitiful. But yet Iago knows That she with Cassio hath the act of shame A thousand times committed. Cassio confessed it, And she did gratify his amorous works With that recognizance and pledge of love Which I first gave her. I saw it in his hand. It was a handkerchief, an antique token My father gave my mother. EMILIA O God! O heavenly God! IAGO Zounds, hold your peace! EMILIA 'Twill out, 'twill out. I peace? No, I will speak as liberal as the north. Let heaven and men and devils, let them all, All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak. IAGO Be wise, and get you home. [He draws his sword.] EMILIA I will not. GRATIANO Fie, your sword upon a woman! EMILIA O thou dull Moor, that handkerchief thou speak'st of I found by fortune, and did give my husband-- For often, with a solemn earnestness (More than indeed belonged to such a trifle), He begged of me to steal 't. IAGO Villainous whore! EMILIA She give it Cassio? No, alas, I found it, And I did give 't my husband. IAGO Filth, thou liest! EMILIA By heaven, I do not, I do not, gentlemen! [To Othello.] O murd'rous coxcomb, what should such a fool Do with so good a wife? OTHELLO Are there no stones in heaven But what serves for the thunder?--Precious villain! [The Moor runs at Iago but is disarmed.] [Iago kills his wife.] GRATIANO The woman falls! Sure he hath killed his wife. EMILIA Ay, ay! O, lay me by my mistress' side. [Iago exits.] GRATIANO He's gone, but his wife's killed. MONTANO 'Tis a notorious villain. Take you this weapon Which I have here recovered from the Moor. Come, guard the door without. Let him not pass, But kill him rather. I'll after that same villain, For 'tis a damned slave. [Montano and Gratiano exit.] OTHELLO I am not valiant neither, But every puny whipster gets my sword. But why should honor outlive honesty? Let it go all. EMILIA What did thy song bode, lady? Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the swan And die in music. [She sings.] Willow, willow, willow. Moor, she was chaste. She loved thee, cruel Moor. So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true. So speaking as I think, alas, I die. [She dies.] OTHELLO I have another weapon in this chamber. It is a sword of Spain, the ice brook's temper. O, here it is.--Uncle, I must come forth. GRATIANO, [within] If thou attempt it, it will cost thee dear; Thou hast no weapon and perforce must suffer. OTHELLO Look in upon me, then, and speak with me, Or naked as I am I will assault thee. [Enter Gratiano.] GRATIANO What is the matter? OTHELLO Behold, I have a weapon. A better never did itself sustain Upon a soldier's thigh. I have seen the day That with this little arm and this good sword I have made my way through more impediments Than twenty times your stop. But--O vain boast!-- Who can control his fate? 'Tis not so now. Be not afraid, though you do see me weaponed. Here is my journey's end, here is my butt And very sea-mark of my utmost sail. Do you go back dismayed? 'Tis a lost fear. Man but a rush against Othello's breast, And he retires. Where should Othello go? [He looks toward the bed.] Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starred wench, Pale as thy smock, when we shall meet at compt, This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven, And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl? Even like thy chastity.--O cursed, cursed slave!-- Whip me, you devils, From the possession of this heavenly sight! Blow me about in winds, roast me in sulfur, Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire! O Desdemon! Dead, Desdemon! Dead! O, O! [Enter Lodovico, Cassio in a chair, Montano, and Iago, with Officers.] LODOVICO Where is this rash and most unfortunate man? OTHELLO That's he that was Othello. Here I am. LODOVICO Where is that viper? Bring the villain forth. [Iago is brought forward.] OTHELLO I look down towards his feet; but that's a fable.-- If that thou be'st a devil, I cannot kill thee. [He stabs Iago.] LODOVICO Wrench his sword from him. [Othello is disarmed.] IAGO I bleed, sir, but not killed. OTHELLO I am not sorry neither. I'd have thee live, For in my sense 'tis happiness to die. LODOVICO O thou Othello, that wert once so good, Fall'n in the practice of a damned slave, What shall be said to thee? OTHELLO Why, anything. An honorable murderer, if you will, For naught I did in hate, but all in honor. LODOVICO This wretch hath part confessed his villainy. Did you and he consent in Cassio's death? OTHELLO Ay. CASSIO Dear general, I never gave you cause. OTHELLO I do believe it, and I ask your pardon. Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devil Why he hath thus ensnared my soul and body? IAGO Demand me nothing. What you know, you know. From this time forth I never will speak word. LODOVICO What? Not to pray? GRATIANO Torments will ope your lips. OTHELLO Well, thou dost best. LODOVICO Sir, You shall understand what hath befall'n, Which, as I think, you know not. Here is a letter Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo, And here another. [He shows papers.] The one of them imports The death of Cassio, to be undertook By Roderigo. OTHELLO O villain! CASSIO Most heathenish and most gross. LODOVICO Now here's another discontented paper Found in his pocket, too; and this it seems Roderigo meant t' have sent this damned villain, But that, belike, Iago in the interim Came in and satisfied him. OTHELLO O, thou pernicious caitiff!-- How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief That was my wife's? CASSIO I found it in my chamber. And he himself confessed it but even now, That there he dropped it for a special purpose Which wrought to his desire. OTHELLO O fool, fool, fool! CASSIO There is besides, in Roderigo's letter, How he upbraids Iago, that he made him Brave me upon the watch, whereon it came That I was cast. And even but now he spake, After long seeming dead: Iago hurt him, Iago set him on. LODOVICO, [to Othello] You must forsake this room and go with us. Your power and your command is taken off, And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave, If there be any cunning cruelty That can torment him much and hold him long, It shall be his. You shall close prisoner rest, Till that the nature of your fault be known To the Venetian state.--Come, bring away. OTHELLO Soft you. A word or two before you go. I have done the state some service, and they know 't. No more of that. I pray you in your letters, When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, Speak of me as I am. Nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice. Then must you speak Of one that loved not wisely, but too well; Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought, Perplexed in the extreme; of one whose hand, Like the base Judean, threw a pearl away Richer than all his tribe; of one whose subdued eyes, Albeit unused to the melting mood, Drops tears as fast as the Arabian trees Their medicinable gum. Set you down this. And say besides, that in Aleppo once, Where a malignant and a turbanned Turk Beat a Venetian and traduced the state, I took by th' throat the circumcised dog, And smote him, thus. [He stabs himself.] LODOVICO O bloody period! GRATIANO All that is spoke is marred. OTHELLO, [to Desdemona] I kissed thee ere I killed thee. No way but this, Killing myself, to die upon a kiss. [He dies.] CASSIO This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon, For he was great of heart. LODOVICO, [to Iago] O Spartan dog, More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea, Look on the tragic loading of this bed. This is thy work.--The object poisons sight. Let it be hid.--Gratiano, keep the house, And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor, For they succeed on you. [To Cassio.] To you, lord governor, Remains the censure of this hellish villain. The time, the place, the torture, O, enforce it. Myself will straight aboard, and to the state This heavy act with heavy heart relate. [They exit.]

Richard II by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== KING RICHARD II Richard's friends: Sir John BUSHY Sir John BAGOT Sir Henry GREEN Richard's QUEEN Queen's LADIES-IN-WAITING JOHN OF GAUNT, Duke of Lancaster HENRY BOLINGBROKE, Duke of HEREFORD, son to John of Gaunt, and later King Henry IV DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER, widow to Thomas, Duke of Gloucester Edmund, DUKE OF YORK DUCHESS OF YORK DUKE OF AUMERLE, Earl of Rutland, son to Duke and Duchess of York York's SERVINGMEN Thomas MOWBRAY, Duke of Norfolk Officials in trial by combat: LORD MARSHAL FIRST HERALD SECOND HERALD Supporters of King Richard: EARL OF SALISBURY BISHOP OF CARLISLE SIR STEPHEN SCROOP LORD BERKELEY ABBOT OF WESTMINSTER WELSH CAPTAIN Supporters of Bolingbroke: Henry Percy, EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND LORD ROSS LORD WILLOUGHBY HARRY PERCY, son of Northumberland, later known as "Hotspur" LORD FITZWATER DUKE OF SURREY ANOTHER LORD GARDENER Gardener's Servingmen GROOM of Richard's stable KEEPER of prison at Pomfret Castle SIR PIERCE OF EXTON Servingmen to Exton Lords, Attendants, Officers, Soldiers, Servingmen, Exton's Men ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter King Richard, John of Gaunt, with other Nobles and Attendants.] KING RICHARD Old John of Gaunt, time-honored Lancaster, Hast thou, according to thy oath and band, Brought hither Henry Hereford, thy bold son, Here to make good the boist'rous late appeal, Which then our leisure would not let us hear, Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray? GAUNT I have, my liege. KING RICHARD Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him If he appeal the Duke on ancient malice Or worthily, as a good subject should, On some known ground of treachery in him? GAUNT As near as I could sift him on that argument, On some apparent danger seen in him Aimed at your Highness, no inveterate malice. KING RICHARD Then call them to our presence. [An Attendant exits.] Face to face And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear The accuser and the accused freely speak. High stomached are they both and full of ire, In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire. [Enter Bolingbroke and Mowbray.] BOLINGBROKE Many years of happy days befall My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege. MOWBRAY Each day still better other's happiness Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap, Add an immortal title to your crown. KING RICHARD We thank you both. Yet one but flatters us, As well appeareth by the cause you come: Namely, to appeal each other of high treason. Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray? BOLINGBROKE First--heaven be the record to my speech!-- In the devotion of a subject's love, Tend'ring the precious safety of my prince And free from other misbegotten hate, Come I appellant to this princely presence.-- Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee; And mark my greeting well, for what I speak My body shall make good upon this earth Or my divine soul answer it in heaven. Thou art a traitor and a miscreant, Too good to be so and too bad to live, Since the more fair and crystal is the sky, The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly. Once more, the more to aggravate the note, With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat, And wish, so please my sovereign, ere I move, What my tongue speaks my right-drawn sword may prove. MOWBRAY Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal. 'Tis not the trial of a woman's war, The bitter clamor of two eager tongues, Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain. The blood is hot that must be cooled for this. Yet can I not of such tame patience boast As to be hushed and naught at all to say. First, the fair reverence of your Highness curbs me From giving reins and spurs to my free speech, Which else would post until it had returned These terms of treason doubled down his throat. Setting aside his high blood's royalty, And let him be no kinsman to my liege, I do defy him, and I spit at him, Call him a slanderous coward and a villain, Which to maintain I would allow him odds And meet him, were I tied to run afoot Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps Or any other ground inhabitable Wherever Englishman durst set his foot. Meantime let this defend my loyalty: By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie. BOLINGBROKE, [throwing down a gage] Pale trembling coward, there I throw my gage, Disclaiming here the kindred of the King, And lay aside my high blood's royalty, Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except. If guilty dread have left thee so much strength As to take up mine honor's pawn, then stoop. By that and all the rites of knighthood else Will I make good against thee, arm to arm, What I have spoke or thou canst worse devise. MOWBRAY, [picking up the gage] I take it up, and by that sword I swear Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder, I'll answer thee in any fair degree Or chivalrous design of knightly trial; And when I mount, alive may I not light If I be traitor or unjustly fight. KING RICHARD What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's charge? It must be great that can inherit us So much as of a thought of ill in him. BOLINGBROKE Look what I speak, my life shall prove it true: That Mowbray hath received eight thousand nobles In name of lendings for your Highness' soldiers, The which he hath detained for lewd employments, Like a false traitor and injurious villain. Besides I say, and will in battle prove, Or here or elsewhere to the furthest verge That ever was surveyed by English eye, That all the treasons for these eighteen years Complotted and contrived in this land Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring. Further I say, and further will maintain Upon his bad life to make all this good, That he did plot the Duke of Gloucester's death, Suggest his soon-believing adversaries, And consequently, like a traitor coward, Sluiced out his innocent soul through streams of blood, Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth To me for justice and rough chastisement. And, by the glorious worth of my descent, This arm shall do it, or this life be spent. KING RICHARD How high a pitch his resolution soars!-- Thomas of Norfolk, what sayst thou to this? MOWBRAY O, let my sovereign turn away his face And bid his ears a little while be deaf, Till I have told this slander of his blood How God and good men hate so foul a liar. KING RICHARD Mowbray, impartial are our eyes and ears. Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir, As he is but my father's brother's son, Now by my scepter's awe I make a vow: Such neighbor nearness to our sacred blood Should nothing privilege him nor partialize The unstooping firmness of my upright soul. He is our subject, Mowbray; so art thou. Free speech and fearless I to thee allow. MOWBRAY Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest. Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais Disbursed I duly to his Highness' soldiers; The other part reserved I by consent, For that my sovereign liege was in my debt Upon remainder of a dear account Since last I went to France to fetch his queen. Now swallow down that lie. For Gloucester's death, I slew him not, but to my own disgrace Neglected my sworn duty in that case.-- For you, my noble Lord of Lancaster, The honorable father to my foe, Once did I lay an ambush for your life, A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul. But ere I last received the sacrament, I did confess it and exactly begged Your Grace's pardon, and I hope I had it.-- This is my fault. As for the rest appealed, It issues from the rancor of a villain, A recreant and most degenerate traitor, Which in myself I boldly will defend, And interchangeably hurl down my gage Upon this overweening traitor's foot, [He throws down a gage.] To prove myself a loyal gentleman, Even in the best blood chambered in his bosom; In haste whereof most heartily I pray Your Highness to assign our trial day. [Bolingbroke picks up the gage.] KING RICHARD Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be ruled by me. Let's purge this choler without letting blood. This we prescribe, though no physician. Deep malice makes too deep incision. Forget, forgive; conclude and be agreed. Our doctors say this is no month to bleed.-- Good uncle, let this end where it begun; We'll calm the Duke of Norfolk, you your son. GAUNT To be a make-peace shall become my age.-- Throw down, my son, the Duke of Norfolk's gage. KING RICHARD And, Norfolk, throw down his. GAUNT When, Harry, when? Obedience bids I should not bid again. KING RICHARD Norfolk, throw down, we bid; there is no boot. MOWBRAY Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy foot. [Mowbray kneels.] My life thou shalt command, but not my shame. The one my duty owes, but my fair name, Despite of death that lives upon my grave, To dark dishonor's use thou shalt not have. I am disgraced, impeached, and baffled here, Pierced to the soul with slander's venomed spear, The which no balm can cure but his heart-blood Which breathed this poison. KING RICHARD Rage must be withstood. Give me his gage. Lions make leopards tame. MOWBRAY, [standing] Yea, but not change his spots. Take but my shame And I resign my gage. My dear dear lord, The purest treasure mortal times afford Is spotless reputation; that away, Men are but gilded loam or painted clay. A jewel in a ten-times-barred-up chest Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast. Mine honor is my life; both grow in one. Take honor from me and my life is done. Then, dear my liege, mine honor let me try. In that I live, and for that will I die. KING RICHARD, [to Bolingbroke] Cousin, throw up your gage. Do you begin. BOLINGBROKE O, God defend my soul from such deep sin! Shall I seem crestfallen in my father's sight? Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height Before this out-dared dastard? Ere my tongue Shall wound my honor with such feeble wrong Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear The slavish motive of recanting fear And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace, Where shame doth harbor, even in Mowbray's face. KING RICHARD We were not born to sue, but to command, Which, since we cannot do, to make you friends, Be ready, as your lives shall answer it, At Coventry upon Saint Lambert's day. There shall your swords and lances arbitrate The swelling difference of your settled hate. Since we cannot atone you, we shall see Justice design the victor's chivalry.-- Lord Marshal, command our officers-at-arms Be ready to direct these home alarms. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter John of Gaunt with the Duchess of Gloucester.] GAUNT Alas, the part I had in Woodstock's blood Doth more solicit me than your exclaims To stir against the butchers of his life. But since correction lieth in those hands Which made the fault that we cannot correct, Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven, Who, when they see the hours ripe on Earth, Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads. DUCHESS Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur? Hath love in thy old blood no living fire? Edward's seven sons, whereof thyself art one, Were as seven vials of his sacred blood Or seven fair branches springing from one root. Some of those seven are dried by nature's course, Some of those branches by the Destinies cut. But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloucester, One vial full of Edward's sacred blood, One flourishing branch of his most royal root, Is cracked and all the precious liquor spilt, Is hacked down, and his summer leaves all faded, By envy's hand and murder's bloody ax. Ah, Gaunt, his blood was thine! That bed, that womb, That metal, that self mold that fashioned thee Made him a man; and though thou livest and breathest, Yet art thou slain in him. Thou dost consent In some large measure to thy father's death In that thou seest thy wretched brother die, Who was the model of thy father's life. Call it not patience, Gaunt. It is despair. In suff'ring thus thy brother to be slaughtered, Thou showest the naked pathway to thy life, Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee. That which in mean men we entitle patience Is pale, cold cowardice in noble breasts. What shall I say? To safeguard thine own life, The best way is to venge my Gloucester's death. GAUNT God's is the quarrel; for God's substitute, His deputy anointed in His sight, Hath caused his death, the which if wrongfully Let heaven revenge, for I may never lift An angry arm against His minister. DUCHESS Where, then, alas, may I complain myself? GAUNT To God, the widow's champion and defense. DUCHESS Why then I will. Farewell, old Gaunt. Thou goest to Coventry, there to behold Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight. O, sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear, That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast! Or if misfortune miss the first career, Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom That they may break his foaming courser's back And throw the rider headlong in the lists, A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford! Farewell, old Gaunt. Thy sometime brother's wife With her companion, grief, must end her life. GAUNT Sister, farewell. I must to Coventry. As much good stay with thee as go with me. DUCHESS Yet one word more. Grief boundeth where it falls, Not with the empty hollowness, but weight. I take my leave before I have begun, For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done. Commend me to thy brother, Edmund York. Lo, this is all. Nay, yet depart not so! Though this be all, do not so quickly go; I shall remember more. Bid him--ah, what?-- With all good speed at Plashy visit me. Alack, and what shall good old York there see But empty lodgings and unfurnished walls, Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones? And what hear there for welcome but my groans? Therefore commend me; let him not come there To seek out sorrow that dwells everywhere. Desolate, desolate, will I hence and die. The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Lord Marshal and the Duke of Aumerle.] MARSHAL My Lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford armed? AUMERLE Yea, at all points, and longs to enter in. MARSHAL The Duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold, Stays but the summons of the appellant's trumpet. AUMERLE Why then, the champions are prepared and stay For nothing but his Majesty's approach. [The trumpets sound and the King enters with his Nobles and Officers; when they are set, enter Mowbray, the Duke of Norfolk in arms, defendant, with a Herald.] KING RICHARD Marshal, demand of yonder champion The cause of his arrival here in arms, Ask him his name, and orderly proceed To swear him in the justice of his cause. MARSHAL, [to Mowbray] In God's name and the King's, say who thou art And why thou comest thus knightly clad in arms, Against what man thou com'st, and what thy quarrel. Speak truly on thy knighthood and thy oath, As so defend thee heaven and thy valor. MOWBRAY My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, Who hither come engaged by my oath-- Which God defend a knight should violate!-- Both to defend my loyalty and truth To God, my king, and my succeeding issue, Against the Duke of Hereford that appeals me, And by the grace of God and this mine arm To prove him, in defending of myself, A traitor to my God, my king, and me; And as I truly fight, defend me heaven. [The trumpets sound. Enter Bolingbroke, Duke of Hereford, appellant, in armor, with a Herald.] KING RICHARD Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms Both who he is and why he cometh hither Thus plated in habiliments of war, And formally, according to our law, Depose him in the justice of his cause. MARSHAL, [to Bolingbroke] What is thy name? And wherefore com'st thou hither, Before King Richard in his royal lists? Against whom comest thou? And what's thy quarrel? Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven. BOLINGBROKE Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby Am I, who ready here do stand in arms To prove, by God's grace and my body's valor, In lists, on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, That he is a traitor foul and dangerous To God of heaven, King Richard, and to me. And as I truly fight, defend me heaven. MARSHAL On pain of death, no person be so bold Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists, Except the Marshal and such officers Appointed to direct these fair designs. BOLINGBROKE Lord Marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's hand And bow my knee before his Majesty; For Mowbray and myself are like two men That vow a long and weary pilgrimage. Then let us take a ceremonious leave And loving farewell of our several friends. MARSHAL, [to King Richard] The appellant in all duty greets your Highness And craves to kiss your hand and take his leave. KING RICHARD, [coming down] We will descend and fold him in our arms. [He embraces Bolingbroke.] Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right, So be thy fortune in this royal fight. Farewell, my blood--which, if today thou shed, Lament we may but not revenge thee dead. BOLINGBROKE O, let no noble eye profane a tear For me if I be gored with Mowbray's spear. As confident as is the falcon's flight Against a bird do I with Mowbray fight. My loving lord, I take my leave of you.-- Of you, my noble cousin, Lord Aumerle; Not sick, although I have to do with death, But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath.-- Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet. O, thou the earthly author of my blood, Whose youthful spirit in me regenerate Doth with a twofold vigor lift me up To reach at victory above my head, Add proof unto mine armor with thy prayers, And with thy blessings steel my lance's point That it may enter Mowbray's waxen coat And furbish new the name of John o' Gaunt, Even in the lusty havior of his son. GAUNT God in thy good cause make thee prosperous. Be swift like lightning in the execution, And let thy blows, doubly redoubled, Fall like amazing thunder on the casque Of thy adverse pernicious enemy. Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant, and live. BOLINGBROKE Mine innocence and Saint George to thrive! MOWBRAY However God or fortune cast my lot, There lives or dies, true to King Richard's throne, A loyal, just, and upright gentleman. Never did captive with a freer heart Cast off his chains of bondage and embrace His golden uncontrolled enfranchisement More than my dancing soul doth celebrate This feast of battle with mine adversary. Most mighty liege and my companion peers, Take from my mouth the wish of happy years. As gentle and as jocund as to jest Go I to fight. Truth hath a quiet breast. KING RICHARD Farewell, my lord. Securely I espy Virtue with valor couched in thine eye.-- Order the trial, marshal, and begin. MARSHAL Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, Receive thy lance; and God defend the right. [He presents a lance to Bolingbroke.] BOLINGBROKE Strong as a tower in hope, I cry "Amen!" MARSHAL, [to an Officer] Go bear this lance to Thomas, Duke of Norfolk. [An Officer presents a lance to Mowbray.] FIRST HERALD Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby Stands here for God, his sovereign, and himself, On pain to be found false and recreant, To prove the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray, A traitor to his God, his king, and him, And dares him to set forward to the fight. SECOND HERALD Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, On pain to be found false and recreant, Both to defend himself and to approve Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby To God, his sovereign, and to him disloyal, Courageously and with a free desire Attending but the signal to begin. MARSHAL Sound, trumpets, and set forward, combatants. [Trumpets sound. Richard throws down his warder.] Stay! The King hath thrown his warder down. KING RICHARD Let them lay by their helmets and their spears, And both return back to their chairs again. [To his council.] Withdraw with us, and let the trumpets sound While we return these dukes what we decree. [Trumpets sound while Richard consults with Gaunt and other Nobles.] [To Bolingbroke and Mowbray.] Draw near, And list what with our council we have done. For that our kingdom's earth should not be soiled With that dear blood which it hath fostered; And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect Of civil wounds plowed up with neighbor's sword; And for we think the eagle-winged pride Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts, With rival-hating envy, set on you To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep, Which, so roused up with boist'rous untuned drums, With harsh resounding trumpets' dreadful bray, And grating shock of wrathful iron arms, Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace And make us wade even in our kindred's blood: Therefore we banish you our territories. You, cousin Hereford, upon pain of life, Till twice five summers have enriched our fields Shall not regreet our fair dominions, But tread the stranger paths of banishment. BOLINGBROKE Your will be done. This must my comfort be: That sun that warms you here shall shine on me, And those his golden beams to you here lent Shall point on me and gild my banishment. KING RICHARD Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom, Which I with some unwillingness pronounce: The sly, slow hours shall not determinate The dateless limit of thy dear exile. The hopeless word of "never to return" Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life. MOWBRAY A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege, And all unlooked-for from your Highness' mouth. A dearer merit, not so deep a maim As to be cast forth in the common air, Have I deserved at your Highness' hands. The language I have learnt these forty years, My native English, now I must forgo; And now my tongue's use is to me no more Than an unstringed viol or a harp, Or like a cunning instrument cased up, Or, being open, put into his hands That knows no touch to tune the harmony. Within my mouth you have enjailed my tongue, Doubly portcullised with my teeth and lips, And dull unfeeling barren ignorance Is made my jailor to attend on me. I am too old to fawn upon a nurse, Too far in years to be a pupil now. What is thy sentence then but speechless death, Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath? KING RICHARD It boots thee not to be compassionate. After our sentence plaining comes too late. MOWBRAY Then thus I turn me from my country's light, To dwell in solemn shades of endless night. [He begins to exit.] KING RICHARD Return again, and take an oath with thee. [To Mowbray and Bolingbroke.] Lay on our royal sword your banished hands. [They place their right hands on the hilts of Richard's sword.] Swear by the duty that you owe to God-- Our part therein we banish with yourselves-- To keep the oath that we administer: You never shall, so help you truth and God, Embrace each other's love in banishment, Nor never look upon each other's face, Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile This louring tempest of your homebred hate, Nor never by advised purpose meet To plot, contrive, or complot any ill 'Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land. BOLINGBROKE I swear. MOWBRAY And I, to keep all this. [They step back.] BOLINGBROKE Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy: By this time, had the King permitted us, One of our souls had wandered in the air, Banished this frail sepulcher of our flesh, As now our flesh is banished from this land. Confess thy treasons ere thou fly the realm. Since thou hast far to go, bear not along The clogging burden of a guilty soul. MOWBRAY No, Bolingbroke; if ever I were traitor, My name be blotted from the book of life, And I from heaven banished as from hence. But what thou art, God, thou, and I do know, And all too soon, I fear, the King shall rue.-- Farewell, my liege. Now no way can I stray; Save back to England, all the world's my way. [He exits.] KING RICHARD, [to Gaunt] Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes I see thy grieved heart. Thy sad aspect Hath from the number of his banished years Plucked four away. [To Bolingbroke.] Six frozen winters spent, Return with welcome home from banishment. BOLINGBROKE How long a time lies in one little word! Four lagging winters and four wanton springs End in a word; such is the breath of kings. GAUNT I thank my liege that in regard of me He shortens four years of my son's exile. But little vantage shall I reap thereby; For, ere the six years that he hath to spend Can change their moons and bring their times about, My oil-dried lamp and time-bewasted light Shall be extinct with age and endless night; My inch of taper will be burnt and done, And blindfold death not let me see my son. KING RICHARD Why, uncle, thou hast many years to live. GAUNT But not a minute, king, that thou canst give. Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow, And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow. Thou canst help time to furrow me with age, But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage. Thy word is current with him for my death, But dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath. KING RICHARD Thy son is banished upon good advice, Whereto thy tongue a party verdict gave. Why at our justice seem'st thou then to lour? GAUNT Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour. You urged me as a judge, but I had rather You would have bid me argue like a father. O, had it been a stranger, not my child, To smooth his fault I should have been more mild. A partial slander sought I to avoid, And in the sentence my own life destroyed. Alas, I looked when some of you should say I was too strict, to make mine own away. But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue Against my will to do myself this wrong. KING RICHARD, [to Bolingbroke] Cousin, farewell.--And, uncle, bid him so. Six years we banish him, and he shall go. [Flourish. King Richard exits with his Attendants.] AUMERLE, [to Bolingbroke] Cousin, farewell. What presence must not know, From where you do remain let paper show. MARSHAL, [to Bolingbroke] My lord, no leave take I, for I will ride, As far as land will let me, by your side. GAUNT, [to Bolingbroke] O, to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words, That thou returnest no greeting to thy friends? BOLINGBROKE I have too few to take my leave of you, When the tongue's office should be prodigal To breathe the abundant dolor of the heart. GAUNT Thy grief is but thy absence for a time. BOLINGBROKE Joy absent, grief is present for that time. GAUNT What is six winters? They are quickly gone. BOLINGBROKE To men in joy; but grief makes one hour ten. GAUNT Call it a travel that thou tak'st for pleasure. BOLINGBROKE My heart will sigh when I miscall it so, Which finds it an enforced pilgrimage. GAUNT The sullen passage of thy weary steps Esteem as foil wherein thou art to set The precious jewel of thy home return. BOLINGBROKE Nay, rather every tedious stride I make Will but remember me what a deal of world I wander from the jewels that I love. Must I not serve a long apprenticehood To foreign passages, and in the end, Having my freedom, boast of nothing else But that I was a journeyman to grief? GAUNT All places that the eye of heaven visits Are to a wise man ports and happy havens. Teach thy necessity to reason thus: There is no virtue like necessity. Think not the King did banish thee, But thou the King. Woe doth the heavier sit Where it perceives it is but faintly borne. Go, say I sent thee forth to purchase honor, And not the King exiled thee; or suppose Devouring pestilence hangs in our air And thou art flying to a fresher clime. Look what thy soul holds dear, imagine it To lie that way thou goest, not whence thou com'st. Suppose the singing birds musicians, The grass whereon thou tread'st the presence strewed, The flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more Than a delightful measure or a dance; For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite The man that mocks at it and sets it light. BOLINGBROKE O, who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite By bare imagination of a feast? Or wallow naked in December snow By thinking on fantastic summer's heat? O no, the apprehension of the good Gives but the greater feeling to the worse. Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more Than when he bites but lanceth not the sore. GAUNT Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee on thy way. Had I thy youth and cause, I would not stay. BOLINGBROKE Then, England's ground, farewell; sweet soil, adieu, My mother and my nurse that bears me yet. Where'er I wander, boast of this I can, Though banished, yet a trueborn Englishman. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter the King with Green and Bagot, at one door, and the Lord Aumerle at another.] KING RICHARD We did observe.--Cousin Aumerle, How far brought you high Hereford on his way? AUMERLE I brought high Hereford, if you call him so, But to the next highway, and there I left him. KING RICHARD And say, what store of parting tears were shed? AUMERLE Faith, none for me, except the northeast wind, Which then blew bitterly against our faces, Awaked the sleeping rheum and so by chance Did grace our hollow parting with a tear. KING RICHARD What said our cousin when you parted with him? AUMERLE "Farewell." And, for my heart disdained that my tongue Should so profane the word, that taught me craft To counterfeit oppression of such grief That words seemed buried in my sorrow's grave. Marry, would the word "farewell" have lengthened hours And added years to his short banishment, He should have had a volume of farewells. But since it would not, he had none of me. KING RICHARD He is our cousin, cousin, but 'tis doubt, When time shall call him home from banishment, Whether our kinsman come to see his friends. Ourself and Bushy, Bagot here and Green, Observed his courtship to the common people, How he did seem to dive into their hearts With humble and familiar courtesy, What reverence he did throw away on slaves, Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles And patient underbearing of his fortune, As 'twere to banish their affects with him. Off goes his bonnet to an oysterwench; A brace of draymen bid God speed him well And had the tribute of his supple knee, With "Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends," As were our England in reversion his And he our subjects' next degree in hope. GREEN Well, he is gone, and with him go these thoughts. Now for the rebels which stand out in Ireland, Expedient manage must be made, my liege, Ere further leisure yield them further means For their advantage and your Highness' loss. KING RICHARD We will ourself in person to this war. And, for our coffers, with too great a court And liberal largess, are grown somewhat light, We are enforced to farm our royal realm, The revenue whereof shall furnish us For our affairs in hand. If that come short, Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters, Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich, They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold And send them after to supply our wants, For we will make for Ireland presently. [Enter Bushy.] Bushy, what news? BUSHY Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord, Suddenly taken, and hath sent posthaste To entreat your Majesty to visit him. KING RICHARD Where lies he? BUSHY At Ely House. KING RICHARD Now put it, God, in the physician's mind To help him to his grave immediately! The lining of his coffers shall make coats To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars. Come, gentlemen, let's all go visit him. Pray God we may make haste and come too late. ALL Amen! [They exit.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter John of Gaunt sick, with the Duke of York, and Attendants.] GAUNT Will the King come, that I may breathe my last In wholesome counsel to his unstaid youth? YORK Vex not yourself nor strive not with your breath, For all in vain comes counsel to his ear. GAUNT O, but they say the tongues of dying men Enforce attention like deep harmony. Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain, For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain. He that no more must say is listened more Than they whom youth and ease have taught to gloze. More are men's ends marked than their lives before. The setting sun and music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, Writ in remembrance more than things long past. Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear, My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear. YORK No, it is stopped with other flattering sounds, As praises, of whose taste the wise are fond; Lascivious meters, to whose venom sound The open ear of youth doth always listen; Report of fashions in proud Italy, Whose manners still our tardy-apish nation Limps after in base imitation. Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity-- So it be new, there's no respect how vile-- That is not quickly buzzed into his ears? Then all too late comes counsel to be heard Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard. Direct not him whose way himself will choose. 'Tis breath thou lack'st, and that breath wilt thou lose. GAUNT Methinks I am a prophet new inspired And thus expiring do foretell of him: His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last, For violent fires soon burn out themselves; Small showers last long, but sudden storms are short; He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes; With eager feeding food doth choke the feeder; Light vanity, insatiate cormorant, Consuming means, soon preys upon itself. This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands, This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, Feared by their breed and famous by their birth, Renowned for their deeds as far from home For Christian service and true chivalry As is the sepulcher in stubborn Jewry Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's son, This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land, Dear for her reputation through the world, Is now leased out--I die pronouncing it-- Like to a tenement or pelting farm. England, bound in with the triumphant sea, Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege Of wat'ry Neptune, is now bound in with shame, With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds. That England that was wont to conquer others Hath made a shameful conquest of itself. Ah, would the scandal vanish with my life, How happy then were my ensuing death! [Enter King and Queen, Aumerle, Bushy, Green, Bagot, Ross, Willoughby, etc.] YORK The King is come. Deal mildly with his youth, For young hot colts being reined do rage the more. QUEEN, [to Gaunt] How fares our noble uncle Lancaster? KING RICHARD, [to Gaunt] What comfort, man? How is 't with aged Gaunt? GAUNT O, how that name befits my composition! Old Gaunt indeed and gaunt in being old. Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast, And who abstains from meat that is not gaunt? For sleeping England long time have I watched; Watching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt. The pleasure that some fathers feed upon Is my strict fast--I mean my children's looks-- And, therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt. Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave, Whose hollow womb inherits naught but bones. KING RICHARD Can sick men play so nicely with their names? GAUNT No, misery makes sport to mock itself. Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me, I mock my name, great king, to flatter thee. KING RICHARD Should dying men flatter with those that live? GAUNT No, no, men living flatter those that die. KING RICHARD Thou, now a-dying, sayest thou flatterest me. GAUNT O, no, thou diest, though I the sicker be. KING RICHARD I am in health, I breathe, and see thee ill. GAUNT Now He that made me knows I see thee ill, Ill in myself to see, and in thee, seeing ill. Thy deathbed is no lesser than thy land, Wherein thou liest in reputation sick; And thou, too careless-patient as thou art, Commit'st thy anointed body to the cure Of those physicians that first wounded thee. A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown, Whose compass is no bigger than thy head, And yet encaged in so small a verge, The waste is no whit lesser than thy land. O, had thy grandsire with a prophet's eye Seen how his son's son should destroy his sons, From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame, Deposing thee before thou wert possessed, Which art possessed now to depose thyself. Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world, It were a shame to let this land by lease; But, for thy world enjoying but this land, Is it not more than shame to shame it so? Landlord of England art thou now, not king. Thy state of law is bondslave to the law, And thou-- KING RICHARD A lunatic lean-witted fool, Presuming on an ague's privilege, Darest with thy frozen admonition Make pale our cheek, chasing the royal blood With fury from his native residence. Now, by my seat's right royal majesty, Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son, This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head Should run thy head from thy unreverent shoulders. GAUNT O, spare me not, my brother Edward's son, For that I was his father Edward's son! That blood already, like the pelican, Hast thou tapped out and drunkenly caroused. My brother Gloucester--plain, well-meaning soul, Whom fair befall in heaven 'mongst happy souls-- May be a precedent and witness good That thou respect'st not spilling Edward's blood. Join with the present sickness that I have, And thy unkindness be like crooked age To crop at once a too-long withered flower. Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee! These words hereafter thy tormentors be!-- Convey me to my bed, then to my grave. Love they to live that love and honor have. [He exits, carried off by Attendants.] KING RICHARD And let them die that age and sullens have, For both hast thou, and both become the grave. YORK I do beseech your Majesty, impute his words To wayward sickliness and age in him. He loves you, on my life, and holds you dear As Harry, Duke of Hereford, were he here. KING RICHARD Right, you say true: as Hereford's love, so his; As theirs, so mine; and all be as it is. [Enter Northumberland.] NORTHUMBERLAND My liege, old Gaunt commends him to your Majesty. KING RICHARD What says he? NORTHUMBERLAND Nay, nothing; all is said. His tongue is now a stringless instrument; Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent. YORK Be York the next that must be bankrupt so! Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe. KING RICHARD The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he; His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be. So much for that. Now for our Irish wars: We must supplant those rough rugheaded kern, Which live like venom where no venom else But only they have privilege to live. And, for these great affairs do ask some charge, Towards our assistance we do seize to us The plate, coin, revenues, and movables Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possessed. YORK How long shall I be patient? Ah, how long Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong? Not Gloucester's death, nor Hereford's banishment, Nor Gaunt's rebukes, nor England's private wrongs, Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke About his marriage, nor my own disgrace, Have ever made me sour my patient cheek Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face. I am the last of noble Edward's sons, Of whom thy father, Prince of Wales, was first. In war was never lion raged more fierce, In peace was never gentle lamb more mild, Than was that young and princely gentleman. His face thou hast, for even so looked he, Accomplished with the number of thy hours; But when he frowned, it was against the French And not against his friends. His noble hand Did win what he did spend, and spent not that Which his triumphant father's hand had won. His hands were guilty of no kindred blood, But bloody with the enemies of his kin. O, Richard! York is too far gone with grief, Or else he never would compare between. KING RICHARD Why, uncle, what's the matter? YORK O, my liege, Pardon me if you please. If not, I, pleased Not to be pardoned, am content withal. Seek you to seize and gripe into your hands The royalties and rights of banished Hereford? Is not Gaunt dead? And doth not Hereford live? Was not Gaunt just? And is not Harry true? Did not the one deserve to have an heir? Is not his heir a well-deserving son? Take Hereford's rights away, and take from time His charters and his customary rights; Let not tomorrow then ensue today; Be not thyself; for how art thou a king But by fair sequence and succession? Now afore God--God forbid I say true!-- If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights, Call in the letters patents that he hath By his attorneys general to sue His livery, and deny his offered homage, You pluck a thousand dangers on your head, You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts, And prick my tender patience to those thoughts Which honor and allegiance cannot think. KING RICHARD Think what you will, we seize into our hands His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands. YORK I'll not be by the while. My liege, farewell. What will ensue hereof there's none can tell; But by bad courses may be understood That their events can never fall out good. [He exits.] KING RICHARD Go, Bushy, to the Earl of Wiltshire straight. Bid him repair to us to Ely House To see this business. Tomorrow next We will for Ireland, and 'tis time, I trow. And we create, in absence of ourself, Our uncle York Lord Governor of England, For he is just and always loved us well.-- Come on, our queen. Tomorrow must we part. Be merry, for our time of stay is short. [King and Queen exit with others; Northumberland, Willoughby, and Ross remain.] NORTHUMBERLAND Well, lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead. ROSS And living too, for now his son is duke. WILLOUGHBY Barely in title, not in revenues. NORTHUMBERLAND Richly in both, if justice had her right. ROSS My heart is great, but it must break with silence Ere 't be disburdened with a liberal tongue. NORTHUMBERLAND Nay, speak thy mind, and let him ne'er speak more That speaks thy words again to do thee harm! WILLOUGHBY, [to Ross] Tends that thou wouldst speak to the Duke of Hereford? If it be so, out with it boldly, man. Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards him. ROSS No good at all that I can do for him, Unless you call it good to pity him, Bereft and gelded of his patrimony. NORTHUMBERLAND Now, afore God, 'tis shame such wrongs are borne In him, a royal prince, and many more Of noble blood in this declining land. The King is not himself, but basely led By flatterers; and what they will inform Merely in hate 'gainst any of us all, That will the King severely prosecute 'Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our heirs. ROSS The commons hath he pilled with grievous taxes, And quite lost their hearts. The nobles hath he fined For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts. WILLOUGHBY And daily new exactions are devised, As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what. But what i' God's name doth become of this? NORTHUMBERLAND Wars hath not wasted it, for warred he hath not, But basely yielded upon compromise That which his noble ancestors achieved with blows. More hath he spent in peace than they in wars. ROSS The Earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm. WILLOUGHBY The King grown bankrupt like a broken man. NORTHUMBERLAND Reproach and dissolution hangeth over him. ROSS He hath not money for these Irish wars, His burdenous taxations notwithstanding, But by the robbing of the banished duke. NORTHUMBERLAND His noble kinsman. Most degenerate king! But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing, Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm; We see the wind sit sore upon our sails, And yet we strike not, but securely perish. ROSS We see the very wrack that we must suffer, And unavoided is the danger now For suffering so the causes of our wrack. NORTHUMBERLAND Not so. Even through the hollow eyes of death I spy life peering; but I dare not say How near the tidings of our comfort is. WILLOUGHBY Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours. ROSS Be confident to speak, Northumberland. We three are but thyself, and speaking so Thy words are but as thoughts. Therefore be bold. NORTHUMBERLAND Then thus: I have from Le Port Blanc, A bay in Brittany, received intelligence That Harry Duke of Hereford, Rainold Lord Cobham, That late broke from the Duke of Exeter, His brother, archbishop late of Canterbury, Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir John Ramston, Sir John Norbery, Sir Robert Waterton, and Francis Coint-- All these well furnished by the Duke of Brittany With eight tall ships, three thousand men of war, Are making hither with all due expedience And shortly mean to touch our northern shore. Perhaps they had ere this, but that they stay The first departing of the King for Ireland. If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke, Imp out our drooping country's broken wing, Redeem from broking pawn the blemished crown, Wipe off the dust that hides our scepter's gilt, And make high majesty look like itself, Away with me in post to Ravenspurgh. But if you faint, as fearing to do so, Stay and be secret, and myself will go. ROSS To horse, to horse! Urge doubts to them that fear. WILLOUGHBY Hold out my horse, and I will first be there. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter the Queen, Bushy, and Bagot.] BUSHY Madam, your Majesty is too much sad. You promised, when you parted with the King, To lay aside life-harming heaviness And entertain a cheerful disposition. QUEEN To please the King I did; to please myself I cannot do it. Yet I know no cause Why I should welcome such a guest as grief, Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest As my sweet Richard. Yet again methinks Some unborn sorrow ripe in Fortune's womb Is coming towards me, and my inward soul With nothing trembles. At some thing it grieves More than with parting from my lord the King. BUSHY Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows Which shows like grief itself but is not so; For sorrow's eyes, glazed with blinding tears, Divides one thing entire to many objects, Like perspectives, which rightly gazed upon Show nothing but confusion, eyed awry Distinguish form. So your sweet Majesty, Looking awry upon your lord's departure, Find shapes of grief more than himself to wail, Which, looked on as it is, is naught but shadows Of what it is not. Then, thrice-gracious queen, More than your lord's departure weep not. More is not seen, Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye, Which for things true weeps things imaginary. QUEEN It may be so, but yet my inward soul Persuades me it is otherwise. Howe'er it be, I cannot but be sad--so heavy sad As thought, on thinking on no thought I think, Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink. BUSHY 'Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious lady. QUEEN 'Tis nothing less. Conceit is still derived From some forefather grief. Mine is not so, For nothing hath begot my something grief-- Or something hath the nothing that I grieve. 'Tis in reversion that I do possess, But what it is that is not yet known what, I cannot name. 'Tis nameless woe, I wot. [Enter Green.] GREEN God save your Majesty!--And well met, gentlemen. I hope the King is not yet shipped for Ireland. QUEEN Why hopest thou so? 'Tis better hope he is, For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope. Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipped? GREEN That he, our hope, might have retired his power And driven into despair an enemy's hope, Who strongly hath set footing in this land. The banished Bolingbroke repeals himself And with uplifted arms is safe arrived At Ravenspurgh. QUEEN Now God in heaven forbid! GREEN Ah, madam, 'tis too true. And that is worse, The Lord Northumberland, his son young Harry Percy, The Lords of Ross, Beaumont, and Willoughby, With all their powerful friends, are fled to him. BUSHY Why have you not proclaimed Northumberland And all the rest revolted faction traitors? GREEN We have; whereupon the Earl of Worcester Hath broken his staff, resigned his stewardship, And all the Household servants fled with him To Bolingbroke. QUEEN So, Green, thou art the midwife to my woe, And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir. Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy, And I, a gasping new-delivered mother, Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow joined. BUSHY Despair not, madam. QUEEN Who shall hinder me? I will despair and be at enmity With cozening hope. He is a flatterer, A parasite, a keeper-back of death, Who gently would dissolve the bands of life Which false hope lingers in extremity. [Enter York.] GREEN Here comes the Duke of York. QUEEN With signs of war about his aged neck. O, full of careful business are his looks!-- Uncle, for God's sake speak comfortable words. YORK Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts. Comfort's in heaven, and we are on the Earth, Where nothing lives but crosses, cares, and grief. Your husband, he is gone to save far off Whilst others come to make him lose at home. Here am I left to underprop his land, Who, weak with age, cannot support myself. Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made; Now shall he try his friends that flattered him. [Enter a Servingman.] SERVINGMAN My lord, your son was gone before I came. YORK He was? Why, so go all which way it will. The nobles they are fled; the commons they are cold And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side. Sirrah, get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloucester; Bid her send me presently a thousand pound. Hold, take my ring. SERVINGMAN My lord, I had forgot to tell your Lordship: Today as I came by I called there-- But I shall grieve you to report the rest. YORK What is 't, knave? SERVINGMAN An hour before I came, the Duchess died. YORK God for His mercy, what a tide of woes Comes rushing on this woeful land at once! I know not what to do. I would to God, So my untruth had not provoked him to it, The King had cut off my head with my brother's! What, are there no posts dispatched for Ireland? How shall we do for money for these wars?-- Come, sister--cousin I would say, pray pardon me.-- Go, fellow, get thee home. Provide some carts And bring away the armor that is there. [Servingman exits.] Gentlemen, will you go muster men? If I know how or which way to order these affairs Thus disorderly thrust into my hands, Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen. T' one is my sovereign, whom both my oath And duty bids defend; t' other again Is my kinsman, whom the King hath wronged, Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right. Well, somewhat we must do. [To Queen.] Come, cousin, I'll dispose of you.--Gentlemen, go muster up your men And meet me presently at Berkeley. I should to Plashy too, But time will not permit. All is uneven, And everything is left at six and seven. [Duke of York and Queen exit. Bushy, Green, and Bagot remain.] BUSHY The wind sits fair for news to go for Ireland, But none returns. For us to levy power Proportionable to the enemy Is all unpossible. GREEN Besides, our nearness to the King in love Is near the hate of those love not the King. BAGOT And that is the wavering commons, for their love Lies in their purses, and whoso empties them By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate. BUSHY Wherein the King stands generally condemned. BAGOT If judgment lie in them, then so do we, Because we ever have been near the King. GREEN Well, I will for refuge straight to Bristow Castle. The Earl of Wiltshire is already there. BUSHY Thither will I with you, for little office Will the hateful commons perform for us, Except like curs to tear us all to pieces.-- Will you go along with us? BAGOT No, I will to Ireland to his Majesty. Farewell. If heart's presages be not vain, We three here part that ne'er shall meet again. BUSHY That's as York thrives to beat back Bolingbroke. GREEN Alas, poor duke, the task he undertakes Is numb'ring sands and drinking oceans dry. Where one on his side fights, thousands will fly. Farewell at once, for once, for all, and ever. BUSHY Well, we may meet again. BAGOT I fear me, never. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Bolingbroke, Duke of Hereford, and Northumberland.] BOLINGBROKE How far is it, my lord, to Berkeley now? NORTHUMBERLAND Believe me, noble lord, I am a stranger here in Gloucestershire. These high wild hills and rough uneven ways Draws out our miles and makes them wearisome. And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar, Making the hard way sweet and delectable. But I bethink me what a weary way From Ravenspurgh to Cotshall will be found In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company, Which, I protest, hath very much beguiled The tediousness and process of my travel. But theirs is sweetened with the hope to have The present benefit which I possess, And hope to joy is little less in joy Than hope enjoyed. By this the weary lords Shall make their way seem short as mine hath done By sight of what I have, your noble company. BOLINGBROKE Of much less value is my company Than your good words. But who comes here? [Enter Harry Percy.] NORTHUMBERLAND It is my son, young Harry Percy, Sent from my brother Worcester whencesoever.-- Harry, how fares your uncle? PERCY I had thought, my lord, to have learned his health of you. NORTHUMBERLAND Why, is he not with the Queen? PERCY No, my good lord, he hath forsook the court, Broken his staff of office, and dispersed The Household of the King. NORTHUMBERLAND What was his reason? He was not so resolved When last we spake together. PERCY Because your Lordship was proclaimed traitor. But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurgh To offer service to the Duke of Hereford, And sent me over by Berkeley to discover What power the Duke of York had levied there, Then with directions to repair to Ravenspurgh. NORTHUMBERLAND Have you forgot the Duke of Hereford, boy? PERCY No, my good lord, for that is not forgot Which ne'er I did remember. To my knowledge I never in my life did look on him. NORTHUMBERLAND Then learn to know him now. This is the Duke. PERCY, [to Bolingbroke] My gracious lord, I tender you my service, Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young, Which elder days shall ripen and confirm To more approved service and desert. BOLINGBROKE I thank thee, gentle Percy, and be sure I count myself in nothing else so happy As in a soul rememb'ring my good friends; And as my fortune ripens with thy love, It shall be still thy true love's recompense. My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus seals it. [Gives Percy his hand.] NORTHUMBERLAND, [to Percy] How far is it to Berkeley, and what stir Keeps good old York there with his men of war? PERCY There stands the castle by yon tuft of trees, Manned with three hundred men, as I have heard, And in it are the Lords of York, Berkeley, and Seymour, None else of name and noble estimate. [Enter Ross and Willoughby.] NORTHUMBERLAND Here come the Lords of Ross and Willoughby, Bloody with spurring, fiery red with haste. BOLINGBROKE Welcome, my lords. I wot your love pursues A banished traitor. All my treasury Is yet but unfelt thanks, which, more enriched, Shall be your love and labor's recompense. ROSS Your presence makes us rich, most noble lord. WILLOUGHBY And far surmounts our labor to attain it. BOLINGBROKE Evermore thank's the exchequer of the poor, Which, till my infant fortune comes to years, Stands for my bounty. But who comes here? [Enter Berkeley.] NORTHUMBERLAND It is my Lord of Berkeley, as I guess. BERKELEY, [to Bolingbroke] My Lord of Hereford, my message is to you. BOLINGBROKE My lord, my answer is--to "Lancaster"; And I am come to seek that name in England. And I must find that title in your tongue Before I make reply to aught you say. BERKELEY Mistake me not, my lord, 'tis not my meaning To rase one title of your honor out. To you, my lord, I come, what lord you will, From the most gracious regent of this land, The Duke of York, to know what pricks you on To take advantage of the absent time, And fright our native peace with self-borne arms. [Enter York.] BOLINGBROKE I shall not need transport my words by you. Here comes his Grace in person. [He kneels.] My noble uncle. YORK Show me thy humble heart and not thy knee, Whose duty is deceivable and false. BOLINGBROKE, [standing] My gracious uncle-- YORK Tut, tut! Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle. I am no traitor's uncle, and that word "grace" In an ungracious mouth is but profane. Why have those banished and forbidden legs Dared once to touch a dust of England's ground? But then, more why: why have they dared to march So many miles upon her peaceful bosom, Frighting her pale-faced villages with war And ostentation of despised arms? Com'st thou because the anointed king is hence? Why, foolish boy, the King is left behind And in my loyal bosom lies his power. Were I but now lord of such hot youth As when brave Gaunt thy father and myself Rescued the Black Prince, that young Mars of men, From forth the ranks of many thousand French, O, then, how quickly should this arm of mine, Now prisoner to the palsy, chastise thee And minister correction to thy fault! BOLINGBROKE My gracious uncle, let me know my fault. On what condition stands it and wherein? YORK Even in condition of the worst degree, In gross rebellion and detested treason. Thou art a banished man and here art come, Before the expiration of thy time, In braving arms against thy sovereign. BOLINGBROKE As I was banished, I was banished Hereford, But as I come, I come for Lancaster. And, noble uncle, I beseech your Grace Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye. You are my father, for methinks in you I see old Gaunt alive. O, then, my father, Will you permit that I shall stand condemned A wandering vagabond, my rights and royalties Plucked from my arms perforce and given away To upstart unthrifts? Wherefore was I born? If that my cousin king be king in England, It must be granted I am Duke of Lancaster. You have a son, Aumerle, my noble cousin. Had you first died and he been thus trod down, He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father To rouse his wrongs and chase them to the bay. I am denied to sue my livery here, And yet my letters patents give me leave. My father's goods are all distrained and sold, And these, and all, are all amiss employed. What would you have me do? I am a subject, And I challenge law. Attorneys are denied me, And therefore personally I lay my claim To my inheritance of free descent. NORTHUMBERLAND, [to York] The noble duke hath been too much abused. ROSS, [to York] It stands your Grace upon to do him right. WILLOUGHBY, [to York] Base men by his endowments are made great. YORK My lords of England, let me tell you this: I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs And labored all I could to do him right. But in this kind to come, in braving arms, Be his own carver and cut out his way To find out right with wrong, it may not be. And you that do abet him in this kind Cherish rebellion and are rebels all. NORTHUMBERLAND The noble duke hath sworn his coming is But for his own, and for the right of that We all have strongly sworn to give him aid. And let him never see joy that breaks that oath. YORK Well, well. I see the issue of these arms. I cannot mend it, I must needs confess, Because my power is weak and all ill-left. But if I could, by Him that gave me life, I would attach you all and make you stoop Unto the sovereign mercy of the King. But since I cannot, be it known unto you I do remain as neuter. So fare you well-- Unless you please to enter in the castle And there repose you for this night. BOLINGBROKE An offer, uncle, that we will accept. But we must win your Grace to go with us To Bristow Castle, which they say is held By Bushy, Bagot, and their complices, The caterpillars of the commonwealth, Which I have sworn to weed and pluck away. YORK It may be I will go with you; but yet I'll pause, For I am loath to break our country's laws. Nor friends nor foes, to me welcome you are. Things past redress are now with me past care. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Earl of Salisbury and a Welsh Captain.] WELSH CAPTAIN My Lord of Salisbury, we have stayed ten days And hardly kept our countrymen together, And yet we hear no tidings from the King. Therefore we will disperse ourselves. Farewell. SALISBURY Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman. The King reposeth all his confidence in thee. WELSH CAPTAIN 'Tis thought the King is dead. We will not stay. The bay trees in our country are all withered, And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven; The pale-faced moon looks bloody on the Earth, And lean-looked prophets whisper fearful change; Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap, The one in fear to lose what they enjoy, The other to enjoy by rage and war. These signs forerun the death or fall of kings. Farewell. Our countrymen are gone and fled, As well assured Richard their king is dead. [He exits.] SALISBURY Ah, Richard! With the eyes of heavy mind I see thy glory like a shooting star Fall to the base earth from the firmament. Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west, Witnessing storms to come, woe, and unrest. Thy friends are fled to wait upon thy foes, And crossly to thy good all fortune goes. [He exits.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Bolingbroke, Duke of Hereford, York, Northumberland, with other Lords, and Bushy and Green prisoners.] BOLINGBROKE Bring forth these men.-- Bushy and Green, I will not vex your souls, Since presently your souls must part your bodies, With too much urging your pernicious lives, For 'twere no charity; yet to wash your blood From off my hands, here in the view of men I will unfold some causes of your deaths: You have misled a prince, a royal king, A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments By you unhappied and disfigured clean. You have in manner with your sinful hours Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him, Broke the possession of a royal bed, And stained the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs. Myself, a prince by fortune of my birth, Near to the King in blood, and near in love Till you did make him misinterpret me, Have stooped my neck under your injuries And sighed my English breath in foreign clouds, Eating the bitter bread of banishment, Whilst you have fed upon my seigniories, Disparked my parks and felled my forest woods, From my own windows torn my household coat, Rased out my imprese, leaving me no sign, Save men's opinions and my living blood, To show the world I am a gentleman. This and much more, much more than twice all this, Condemns you to the death.--See them delivered over To execution and the hand of death. BUSHY More welcome is the stroke of death to me Than Bolingbroke to England. Lords, farewell. GREEN My comfort is that heaven will take our souls And plague injustice with the pains of hell. BOLINGBROKE My Lord Northumberland, see them dispatched. [Northumberland exits with Bushy and Green.] [To York.] Uncle, you say the Queen is at your house. For God's sake, fairly let her be entreated. Tell her I send to her my kind commends. Take special care my greetings be delivered. YORK A gentleman of mine I have dispatched With letters of your love to her at large. BOLINGBROKE Thanks, gentle uncle.--Come, lords, away, To fight with Glendower and his complices. A while to work, and after holiday. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Drums. Flourish and colors. Enter the King, Aumerle, Carlisle, and Soldiers.] KING RICHARD Barkloughly Castle call they this at hand? AUMERLE Yea, my lord. How brooks your Grace the air After your late tossing on the breaking seas? KING RICHARD Needs must I like it well. I weep for joy To stand upon my kingdom once again. [He kneels.] Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand, Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs. As a long-parted mother with her child Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting, So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth, And do thee favors with my royal hands. Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth, Nor with thy sweets comfort his ravenous sense, But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom, And heavy-gaited toads lie in their way, Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet Which with usurping steps do trample thee. Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies, And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower, Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder, Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch Throw death upon thy sovereign's enemies. Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords. This earth shall have a feeling, and these stones Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king Shall falter under foul rebellion's arms. CARLISLE Fear not, my lord. That power that made you king Hath power to keep you king in spite of all. The means that heavens yield must be embraced And not neglected. Else heaven would, And we will not--heaven's offer we refuse, The proffered means of succor and redress. AUMERLE He means, my lord, that we are too remiss, Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security, Grows strong and great in substance and in power. KING RICHARD Discomfortable cousin, know'st thou not That when the searching eye of heaven is hid Behind the globe that lights the lower world, Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen In murders and in outrage boldly here? But when from under this terrestrial ball He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines And darts his light through every guilty hole, Then murders, treasons, and detested sins, The cloak of night being plucked from off their backs, Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves. So when this thief, this traitor Bolingbroke, Who all this while hath reveled in the night Whilst we were wand'ring with the Antipodes, Shall see us rising in our throne, the east, His treasons will sit blushing in his face, Not able to endure the sight of day, But self-affrighted, tremble at his sin. Not all the water in the rough rude sea Can wash the balm off from an anointed king. The breath of worldly men cannot depose The deputy elected by the Lord. For every man that Bolingbroke hath pressed To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown, God for His Richard hath in heavenly pay A glorious angel. Then, if angels fight, Weak men must fall, for heaven still guards the right. [Enter Salisbury.] Welcome, my lord. How far off lies your power? SALISBURY Nor near nor farther off, my gracious lord, Than this weak arm. Discomfort guides my tongue And bids me speak of nothing but despair. One day too late, I fear me, noble lord, Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth. O, call back yesterday, bid time return, And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men. Today, today, unhappy day too late, Overthrows thy joys, friends, fortune, and thy state; For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead, Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispersed, and fled. AUMERLE Comfort, my liege. Why looks your Grace so pale? KING RICHARD But now the blood of twenty thousand men Did triumph in my face, and they are fled; And till so much blood thither come again Have I not reason to look pale and dead? All souls that will be safe, fly from my side, For time hath set a blot upon my pride. AUMERLE Comfort, my liege. Remember who you are. KING RICHARD I had forgot myself. Am I not king? Awake, thou coward majesty, thou sleepest! Is not the King's name twenty thousand names? Arm, arm, my name! A puny subject strikes At thy great glory. Look not to the ground, You favorites of a king. Are we not high? High be our thoughts. I know my Uncle York Hath power enough to serve our turn.--But who comes here? [Enter Scroop.] SCROOP More health and happiness betide my liege Than can my care-tuned tongue deliver him. KING RICHARD Mine ear is open and my heart prepared. The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold. Say, is my kingdom lost? Why, 'twas my care, And what loss is it to be rid of care? Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we? Greater he shall not be. If he serve God, We'll serve Him too and be his fellow so. Revolt our subjects? That we cannot mend. They break their faith to God as well as us. Cry woe, destruction, ruin, and decay. The worst is death, and death will have his day. SCROOP Glad am I that your Highness is so armed To bear the tidings of calamity. Like an unseasonable stormy day Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores As if the world were all dissolved to tears, So high above his limits swells the rage Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land With hard bright steel and hearts harder than steel. Whitebeards have armed their thin and hairless scalps Against thy Majesty; boys with women's voices Strive to speak big and clap their female joints In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown; Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows Of double-fatal yew against thy state. Yea, distaff women manage rusty bills Against thy seat. Both young and old rebel, And all goes worse than I have power to tell. KING RICHARD Too well, too well thou tell'st a tale so ill. Where is the Earl of Wiltshire? Where is Bagot? What is become of Bushy? Where is Green, That they have let the dangerous enemy Measure our confines with such peaceful steps? If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it! I warrant they have made peace with Bolingbroke. SCROOP Peace have they made with him indeed, my lord. KING RICHARD O villains, vipers, damned without redemption! Dogs easily won to fawn on any man! Snakes in my heart blood warmed, that sting my heart! Three Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas! Would they make peace? Terrible hell Make war upon their spotted souls for this! SCROOP Sweet love, I see, changing his property, Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate. Again uncurse their souls. Their peace is made With heads and not with hands. Those whom you curse Have felt the worst of death's destroying wound And lie full low, graved in the hollow ground. AUMERLE Is Bushy, Green, and the Earl of Wiltshire dead? SCROOP Ay, all of them at Bristow lost their heads. AUMERLE Where is the Duke my father with his power? KING RICHARD No matter where. Of comfort no man speak. Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs, Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth. Let's choose executors and talk of wills. And yet not so, for what can we bequeath Save our deposed bodies to the ground? Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's, And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings-- How some have been deposed, some slain in war, Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed, Some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed, All murdered. For within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court, and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp, Allowing him a breath, a little scene, To monarchize, be feared, and kill with looks, Infusing him with self and vain conceit, As if this flesh which walls about our life Were brass impregnable; and humored thus, Comes at the last and with a little pin Bores through his castle wall, and farewell, king! Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood With solemn reverence. Throw away respect, Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty, For you have but mistook me all this while. I live with bread like you, feel want, Taste grief, need friends. Subjected thus, How can you say to me I am a king? CARLISLE My lord, wise men ne'er sit and wail their woes, But presently prevent the ways to wail. To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength, Gives in your weakness strength unto your foe, And so your follies fight against yourself. Fear, and be slain--no worse can come to fight; And fight and die is death destroying death, Where fearing dying pays death servile breath. AUMERLE My father hath a power. Inquire of him, And learn to make a body of a limb. KING RICHARD Thou chid'st me well.--Proud Bolingbroke, I come To change blows with thee for our day of doom.-- This ague fit of fear is overblown. An easy task it is to win our own.-- Say, Scroop, where lies our uncle with his power? Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be sour. SCROOP Men judge by the complexion of the sky The state and inclination of the day; So may you by my dull and heavy eye. My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say. I play the torturer by small and small To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken. Your uncle York is joined with Bolingbroke, And all your northern castles yielded up, And all your southern gentlemen in arms Upon his party. KING RICHARD Thou hast said enough. [To Aumerle.] Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth Of that sweet way I was in to despair. What say you now? What comfort have we now? By heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly That bids me be of comfort anymore. Go to Flint Castle. There I'll pine away; A king, woe's slave, shall kingly woe obey. That power I have, discharge, and let them go To ear the land that hath some hope to grow, For I have none. Let no man speak again To alter this, for counsel is but vain. AUMERLE My liege, one word. KING RICHARD He does me double wrong That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue. Discharge my followers. Let them hence away, From Richard's night to Bolingbroke's fair day. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter with Drum and Colors Bolingbroke, York, Northumberland, with Soldiers and Attendants.] BOLINGBROKE So that by this intelligence we learn The Welshmen are dispersed, and Salisbury Is gone to meet the King, who lately landed With some few private friends upon this coast. NORTHUMBERLAND The news is very fair and good, my lord: Richard not far from hence hath hid his head. YORK It would beseem the Lord Northumberland To say "King Richard." Alack the heavy day When such a sacred king should hide his head! NORTHUMBERLAND Your Grace mistakes; only to be brief Left I his title out. YORK The time hath been, would you have been so brief with him, He would have been so brief to shorten you, For taking so the head, your whole head's length. BOLINGBROKE Mistake not, uncle, further than you should. YORK Take not, good cousin, further than you should, Lest you mistake. The heavens are over our heads. BOLINGBROKE I know it, uncle, and oppose not myself Against their will. But who comes here? [Enter Percy.] Welcome, Harry. What, will not this castle yield? PERCY The castle royally is manned, my lord, Against thy entrance. BOLINGBROKE Royally? Why, it contains no king. PERCY Yes, my good lord, It doth contain a king. King Richard lies Within the limits of yon lime and stone, And with him are the Lord Aumerle, Lord Salisbury, Sir Stephen Scroop, besides a clergyman Of holy reverence--who, I cannot learn. NORTHUMBERLAND O, belike it is the Bishop of Carlisle. BOLINGBROKE, [to Northumberland] Noble lord, Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle, Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parley Into his ruined ears, and thus deliver: Henry Bolingbroke On both his knees doth kiss King Richard's hand And sends allegiance and true faith of heart To his most royal person, hither come Even at his feet to lay my arms and power, Provided that my banishment repealed And lands restored again be freely granted. If not, I'll use the advantage of my power And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood Rained from the wounds of slaughtered Englishmen-- The which how far off from the mind of Bolingbroke It is such crimson tempest should bedrench The fresh green lap of fair King Richard's land, My stooping duty tenderly shall show. Go signify as much while here we march Upon the grassy carpet of this plain. [Northumberland and Trumpets approach the battlements.] Let's march without the noise of threat'ning drum, That from this castle's tottered battlements Our fair appointments may be well perused. Methinks King Richard and myself should meet With no less terror than the elements Of fire and water when their thund'ring shock At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven. Be he the fire, I'll be the yielding water; The rage be his, whilst on the earth I rain My waters--on the earth and not on him. March on, and mark King Richard how he looks. [Bolingbroke's Soldiers march, the trumpets sound.] [Richard appeareth on the walls with Aumerle.] See, see, King Richard doth himself appear As doth the blushing discontented sun From out the fiery portal of the east When he perceives the envious clouds are bent To dim his glory and to stain the track Of his bright passage to the occident. YORK Yet looks he like a king. Behold, his eye, As bright as is the eagle's, lightens forth Controlling majesty. Alack, alack for woe That any harm should stain so fair a show! KING RICHARD, [to Northumberland, below] We are amazed, and thus long have we stood To watch the fearful bending of thy knee, Because we thought ourself thy lawful king. An if we be, how dare thy joints forget To pay their awful duty to our presence? If we be not, show us the hand of God That hath dismissed us from our stewardship, For well we know no hand of blood and bone Can gripe the sacred handle of our scepter, Unless he do profane, steal, or usurp. And though you think that all, as you have done, Have torn their souls by turning them from us, And we are barren and bereft of friends, Yet know, my master, God omnipotent, Is mustering in his clouds on our behalf Armies of pestilence, and they shall strike Your children yet unborn and unbegot, That lift your vassal hands against my head And threat the glory of my precious crown. Tell Bolingbroke--for yon methinks he stands-- That every stride he makes upon my land Is dangerous treason. He is come to open The purple testament of bleeding war; But ere the crown he looks for live in peace, Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sons Shall ill become the flower of England's face, Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace To scarlet indignation, and bedew Her pastures' grass with faithful English blood. NORTHUMBERLAND The King of heaven forbid our lord the King Should so with civil and uncivil arms Be rushed upon! Thy thrice-noble cousin, Harry Bolingbroke, doth humbly kiss thy hand, And by the honorable tomb he swears That stands upon your royal grandsire's bones, And by the royalties of both your bloods, Currents that spring from one most gracious head, And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt, And by the worth and honor of himself, Comprising all that may be sworn or said, His coming hither hath no further scope Than for his lineal royalties, and to beg Enfranchisement immediate on his knees; Which on thy royal party granted once, His glittering arms he will commend to rust, His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart To faithful service of your Majesty. This swears he, as he is a prince and just, And as I am a gentleman I credit him. KING RICHARD Northumberland, say thus the King returns: His noble cousin is right welcome hither, And all the number of his fair demands Shall be accomplished without contradiction. With all the gracious utterance thou hast, Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends. [Northumberland returns to Bolingbroke.] [To Aumerle.] We do debase ourselves, cousin, do we not, To look so poorly and to speak so fair? Shall we call back Northumberland and send Defiance to the traitor and so die? AUMERLE No, good my lord, let's fight with gentle words, Till time lend friends, and friends their helpful swords. KING RICHARD O God, O God, that e'er this tongue of mine That laid the sentence of dread banishment On yon proud man should take it off again With words of sooth! O, that I were as great As is my grief, or lesser than my name! Or that I could forget what I have been, Or not remember what I must be now. Swell'st thou, proud heart? I'll give thee scope to beat, Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me. AUMERLE Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke. KING RICHARD What must the King do now? Must he submit? The King shall do it. Must he be deposed? The King shall be contented. Must he lose The name of king? I' God's name, let it go. I'll give my jewels for a set of beads, My gorgeous palace for a hermitage, My gay apparel for an almsman's gown, My figured goblets for a dish of wood, My scepter for a palmer's walking-staff, My subjects for a pair of carved saints, And my large kingdom for a little grave, A little, little grave, an obscure grave; Or I'll be buried in the King's highway, Some way of common trade, where subjects' feet May hourly trample on their sovereign's head; For on my heart they tread now whilst I live And, buried once, why not upon my head? Aumerle, thou weep'st, my tender-hearted cousin. We'll make foul weather with despised tears; Our sighs and they shall lodge the summer corn And make a dearth in this revolting land. Or shall we play the wantons with our woes And make some pretty match with shedding tears? As thus, to drop them still upon one place Till they have fretted us a pair of graves Within the earth; and therein laid--there lies Two kinsmen digged their graves with weeping eyes. Would not this ill do well? Well, well, I see I talk but idly, and you laugh at me. [Northumberland approaches the battlements.] Most mighty prince, my Lord Northumberland, What says King Bolingbroke? Will his Majesty Give Richard leave to live till Richard die? You make a leg, and Bolingbroke says ay. NORTHUMBERLAND My lord, in the base court he doth attend To speak with you, may it please you to come down. KING RICHARD Down, down I come, like glist'ring Phaeton, Wanting the manage of unruly jades. In the base court--base court, where kings grow base, To come at traitors' calls and do them grace. In the base court come down--down court, down king, For nightowls shriek where mounting larks should sing. [Richard exits above and Northumberland returns to Bolingbroke.] BOLINGBROKE What says his Majesty? NORTHUMBERLAND Sorrow and grief of heart Makes him speak fondly like a frantic man, Yet he is come. [Richard enters below.] BOLINGBROKE Stand all apart, And show fair duty to his Majesty. [He kneels down.] My gracious lord. KING RICHARD Fair cousin, you debase your princely knee To make the base earth proud with kissing it. Me rather had my heart might feel your love Than my unpleased eye see your courtesy. Up, cousin, up. Your heart is up, I know, Thus high at least [indicating his crown,] although your knee be low. BOLINGBROKE, [standing] My gracious lord, I come but for mine own. KING RICHARD Your own is yours, and I am yours, and all. BOLINGBROKE So far be mine, my most redoubted lord, As my true service shall deserve your love. KING RICHARD Well you deserve. They well deserve to have That know the strong'st and surest way to get.-- Uncle, give me your hands. Nay, dry your eyes. Tears show their love but want their remedies.-- Cousin, I am too young to be your father, Though you are old enough to be my heir. What you will have I'll give, and willing too, For do we must what force will have us do. Set on towards London, cousin, is it so? BOLINGBROKE Yea, my good lord. KING RICHARD Then I must not say no. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter the Queen with her Ladies-in-waiting.] QUEEN What sport shall we devise here in this garden To drive away the heavy thought of care? LADY Madam, we'll play at bowls. QUEEN 'Twill make me think the world is full of rubs And that my fortune runs against the bias. LADY Madam, we'll dance. QUEEN My legs can keep no measure in delight When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief. Therefore no dancing, girl. Some other sport. LADY Madam, we'll tell tales. QUEEN Of sorrow or of joy? LADY Of either, madam. QUEEN Of neither, girl, For if of joy, being altogether wanting, It doth remember me the more of sorrow; Or if of grief, being altogether had, It adds more sorrow to my want of joy. For what I have I need not to repeat, And what I want it boots not to complain. LADY Madam, I'll sing. QUEEN 'Tis well that thou hast cause, But thou shouldst please me better wouldst thou weep. LADY I could weep, madam, would it do you good. QUEEN And I could sing, would weeping do me good, And never borrow any tear of thee. [Enter a Gardener and two Servingmen.] But stay, here come the gardeners. Let's step into the shadow of these trees. My wretchedness unto a row of pins, They will talk of state, for everyone doth so Against a change. Woe is forerun with woe. [Queen and Ladies step aside.] GARDENER, [to one Servingman] Go, bind thou up young dangling apricokes Which, like unruly children, make their sire Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight. Give some supportance to the bending twigs.-- Go thou, and like an executioner Cut off the heads of too-fast-growing sprays That look too lofty in our commonwealth. All must be even in our government. You thus employed, I will go root away The noisome weeds which without profit suck The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers. MAN Why should we, in the compass of a pale, Keep law and form and due proportion, Showing as in a model our firm estate, When our sea-walled garden, the whole land, Is full of weeds, her fairest flowers choked up, Her fruit trees all unpruned, her hedges ruined, Her knots disordered, and her wholesome herbs Swarming with caterpillars? GARDENER Hold thy peace. He that hath suffered this disordered spring Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf. The weeds which his broad-spreading leaves did shelter, That seemed in eating him to hold him up, Are plucked up, root and all, by Bolingbroke-- I mean the Earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green. MAN What, are they dead? GARDENER They are. And Bolingbroke Hath seized the wasteful king. O, what pity is it That he had not so trimmed and dressed his land As we this garden! We at time of year Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit trees, Lest, being overproud in sap and blood, With too much riches it confound itself. Had he done so to great and growing men, They might have lived to bear and he to taste Their fruits of duty. Superfluous branches We lop away, that bearing boughs may live. Had he done so, himself had borne the crown, Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down. MAN What, think you the King shall be deposed? GARDENER Depressed he is already, and deposed 'Tis doubt he will be. Letters came last night To a dear friend of the good Duke of York's That tell black tidings. QUEEN O, I am pressed to death through want of speaking! [Stepping forward.] Thou old Adam's likeness, set to dress this garden, How dares thy harsh rude tongue sound this unpleasing news? What Eve, what serpent, hath suggested thee To make a second fall of cursed man? Why dost thou say King Richard is deposed? Dar'st thou, thou little better thing than earth, Divine his downfall? Say where, when, and how Cam'st thou by this ill tidings? Speak, thou wretch! GARDENER Pardon me, madam. Little joy have I To breathe this news, yet what I say is true. King Richard, he is in the mighty hold Of Bolingbroke. Their fortunes both are weighed. In your lord's scale is nothing but himself And some few vanities that make him light, But in the balance of great Bolingbroke, Besides himself, are all the English peers, And with that odds he weighs King Richard down. Post you to London and you will find it so. I speak no more than everyone doth know. QUEEN Nimble mischance, that art so light of foot, Doth not thy embassage belong to me, And am I last that knows it? O, thou thinkest To serve me last that I may longest keep Thy sorrow in my breast. Come, ladies, go To meet at London London's king in woe. What, was I born to this, that my sad look Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke?-- Gard'ner, for telling me these news of woe, Pray God the plants thou graft'st may never grow. [She exits with Ladies.] GARDENER Poor queen, so that thy state might be no worse, I would my skill were subject to thy curse. Here did she fall a tear. Here in this place I'll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace. Rue even for ruth here shortly shall be seen In the remembrance of a weeping queen. [They exit.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Bolingbroke with the Lords Aumerle, Northumberland, Harry Percy, Fitzwater, Surrey, the Bishop of Carlisle, the Abbot of Westminster, and another Lord, Herald, Officers to parliament.] BOLINGBROKE Call forth Bagot. [Enter Officers with Bagot.] Now, Bagot, freely speak thy mind What thou dost know of noble Gloucester's death, Who wrought it with the King, and who performed The bloody office of his timeless end. BAGOT Then set before my face the Lord Aumerle. BOLINGBROKE Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that man. [Aumerle steps forward.] BAGOT My Lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongue Scorns to unsay what once it hath delivered. In that dead time when Gloucester's death was plotted, I heard you say "Is not my arm of length, That reacheth from the restful English court As far as Calais, to mine uncle's head?" Amongst much other talk that very time I heard you say that you had rather refuse The offer of an hundred thousand crowns Than Bolingbroke's return to England, Adding withal how blest this land would be In this your cousin's death. AUMERLE Princes and noble lords, What answer shall I make to this base man? Shall I so much dishonor my fair stars On equal terms to give him chastisement? Either I must or have mine honor soiled With the attainder of his slanderous lips. [He throws down a gage.] There is my gage, the manual seal of death That marks thee out for hell. I say thou liest, And will maintain what thou hast said is false In thy heart-blood, though being all too base To stain the temper of my knightly sword. BOLINGBROKE Bagot, forbear. Thou shalt not take it up. AUMERLE Excepting one, I would he were the best In all this presence that hath moved me so. FITZWATER, [throwing down a gage] If that thy valor stand on sympathy, There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine. By that fair sun which shows me where thou stand'st, I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spak'st it, That thou wert cause of noble Gloucester's death. If thou deniest it twenty times, thou liest, And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart, Where it was forged, with my rapier's point. AUMERLE, [taking up the gage] Thou dar'st not, coward, live to see that day. FITZWATER Now, by my soul, I would it were this hour. AUMERLE Fitzwater, thou art damned to hell for this. PERCY Aumerle, thou liest! His honor is as true In this appeal as thou art all unjust; And that thou art so, there I throw my gage, [He throws down a gage.] To prove it on thee to the extremest point Of mortal breathing. Seize it if thou dar'st. AUMERLE, [taking up the gage] An if I do not, may my hands rot off And never brandish more revengeful steel Over the glittering helmet of my foe! ANOTHER LORD, [throwing down a gage] I task the earth to the like, forsworn Aumerle, And spur thee on with full as many lies As may be holloed in thy treacherous ear From sun to sun. There is my honor's pawn. Engage it to the trial if thou darest. AUMERLE, [taking up the gage] Who sets me else? By heaven, I'll throw at all! I have a thousand spirits in one breast To answer twenty thousand such as you. SURREY My Lord Fitzwater, I do remember well The very time Aumerle and you did talk. FITZWATER 'Tis very true. You were in presence then, And you can witness with me this is true. SURREY As false, by heaven, as heaven itself is true. FITZWATER Surrey, thou liest. SURREY Dishonorable boy, That lie shall lie so heavy on my sword That it shall render vengeance and revenge Till thou the lie-giver and that lie do lie In earth as quiet as thy father's skull. [He throws down a gage.] In proof whereof, there is my honor's pawn. Engage it to the trial if thou dar'st. FITZWATER, [taking up the gage] How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse! If I dare eat or drink or breathe or live, I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness And spit upon him whilst I say he lies, And lies, and lies. There is my bond of faith To tie thee to my strong correction. [He throws down a gage.] As I intend to thrive in this new world, Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal.-- Besides, I heard the banished Norfolk say That thou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy men To execute the noble duke at Calais. AUMERLE Some honest Christian trust me with a gage. [A Lord hands him a gage.] [Aumerle throws it down.] That Norfolk lies, here do I throw down this, If he may be repealed to try his honor. BOLINGBROKE These differences shall all rest under gage Till Norfolk be repealed. Repealed he shall be, And though mine enemy, restored again To all his lands and seigniories. When he is returned, Against Aumerle we will enforce his trial. CARLISLE That honorable day shall never be seen. Many a time hath banished Norfolk fought For Jesu Christ in glorious Christian field, Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross Against black pagans, Turks, and Saracens; And, toiled with works of war, retired himself To Italy, and there at Venice gave His body to that pleasant country's earth And his pure soul unto his captain, Christ, Under whose colors he had fought so long. BOLINGBROKE Why, bishop, is Norfolk dead? CARLISLE As surely as I live, my lord. BOLINGBROKE Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to the bosom Of good old Abraham! Lords appellants, Your differences shall all rest under gage Till we assign you to your days of trial. [Enter York.] YORK Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to thee From plume-plucked Richard, who with willing soul Adopts thee heir, and his high scepter yields To the possession of thy royal hand. Ascend his throne, descending now from him, And long live Henry, fourth of that name! BOLINGBROKE In God's name, I'll ascend the regal throne. CARLISLE Marry, God forbid! Worst in this royal presence may I speak, Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth. Would God that any in this noble presence Were enough noble to be upright judge Of noble Richard! Then true noblesse would Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong. What subject can give sentence on his king? And who sits here that is not Richard's subject? Thieves are not judged but they are by to hear, Although apparent guilt be seen in them; And shall the figure of God's majesty, His captain, steward, deputy elect, Anointed, crowned, planted many years, Be judged by subject and inferior breath, And he himself not present? O, forfend it God That in a Christian climate souls refined Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed! I speak to subjects and a subject speaks, Stirred up by God thus boldly for his king. My Lord of Hereford here, whom you call king, Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king, And if you crown him, let me prophesy The blood of English shall manure the ground And future ages groan for this foul act, Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels, And in this seat of peace tumultuous wars Shall kin with kin and kind with kind confound. Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny Shall here inhabit, and this land be called The field of Golgotha and dead men's skulls. O, if you raise this house against this house, It will the woefullest division prove That ever fell upon this cursed earth! Prevent it, resist it, let it not be so, Lest child, child's children, cry against you woe! NORTHUMBERLAND Well have you argued, sir, and, for your pains, Of capital treason we arrest you here.-- My Lord of Westminster, be it your charge To keep him safely till his day of trial. May it please you, lords, to grant the commons' suit? BOLINGBROKE Fetch hither Richard, that in common view He may surrender. So we shall proceed Without suspicion. YORK I will be his conduct. [He exits.] BOLINGBROKE Lords, you that here are under our arrest, Procure your sureties for your days of answer. Little are we beholding to your love And little looked for at your helping hands. [Enter Richard and York.] KING RICHARD Alack, why am I sent for to a king Before I have shook off the regal thoughts Wherewith I reigned? I hardly yet have learned To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my knee. Give sorrow leave awhile to tutor me To this submission. Yet I well remember The favors of these men. Were they not mine? Did they not sometime cry "All hail" to me? So Judas did to Christ, but He in twelve Found truth in all but one; I, in twelve thousand, none. God save the King! Will no man say "amen"? Am I both priest and clerk? Well, then, amen. God save the King, although I be not he, And yet amen, if heaven do think him me. To do what service am I sent for hither? YORK To do that office of thine own goodwill Which tired majesty did make thee offer: The resignation of thy state and crown To Henry Bolingbroke. KING RICHARD Give me the crown.--Here, cousin, seize the crown. Here, cousin. On this side my hand, on that side thine. Now is this golden crown like a deep well That owes two buckets, filling one another, The emptier ever dancing in the air, The other down, unseen, and full of water. That bucket down and full of tears am I, Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high. BOLINGBROKE I thought you had been willing to resign. KING RICHARD My crown I am, but still my griefs are mine. You may my glories and my state depose But not my griefs; still am I king of those. BOLINGBROKE Part of your cares you give me with your crown. KING RICHARD Your cares set up do not pluck my cares down. My care is loss of care, by old care done; Your care is gain of care, by new care won. The cares I give I have, though given away. They 'tend the crown, yet still with me they stay. BOLINGBROKE Are you contented to resign the crown? KING RICHARD Ay, no; no, ay; for I must nothing be. Therefore no "no," for I resign to thee. Now, mark me how I will undo myself. I give this heavy weight from off my head And this unwieldy scepter from my hand, The pride of kingly sway from out my heart. With mine own tears I wash away my balm, With mine own hands I give away my crown, With mine own tongue deny my sacred state, With mine own breath release all duteous oaths. All pomp and majesty I do forswear. My manors, rents, revenues I forgo; My acts, decrees, and statutes I deny. God pardon all oaths that are broke to me. God keep all vows unbroke are made to thee. Make me, that nothing have, with nothing grieved, And thou with all pleased that hast all achieved. Long mayst thou live in Richard's seat to sit, And soon lie Richard in an earthy pit. God save King Henry, unkinged Richard says, And send him many years of sunshine days. What more remains? NORTHUMBERLAND, [offering Richard a paper] No more, but that you read These accusations and these grievous crimes Committed by your person and your followers Against the state and profit of this land; That, by confessing them, the souls of men May deem that you are worthily deposed. KING RICHARD Must I do so? And must I ravel out My weaved-up follies? Gentle Northumberland, If thy offenses were upon record, Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop To read a lecture of them? If thou wouldst, There shouldst thou find one heinous article Containing the deposing of a king And cracking the strong warrant of an oath, Marked with a blot, damned in the book of heaven.-- Nay, all of you that stand and look upon me Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself, Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands, Showing an outward pity, yet you Pilates Have here delivered me to my sour cross, And water cannot wash away your sin. NORTHUMBERLAND My lord, dispatch. Read o'er these articles. KING RICHARD Mine eyes are full of tears; I cannot see. And yet salt water blinds them not so much But they can see a sort of traitors here. Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself, I find myself a traitor with the rest, For I have given here my soul's consent T' undeck the pompous body of a king, Made glory base and sovereignty a slave, Proud majesty a subject, state a peasant. NORTHUMBERLAND My lord-- KING RICHARD No lord of thine, thou haught insulting man, Nor no man's lord. I have no name, no title, No, not that name was given me at the font, But 'tis usurped. Alack the heavy day, That I have worn so many winters out And know not now what name to call myself. O, that I were a mockery king of snow Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke, To melt myself away in water drops.-- Good king, great king, and yet not greatly good, An if my word be sterling yet in England, Let it command a mirror hither straight, That it may show me what a face I have Since it is bankrupt of his majesty. BOLINGBROKE Go, some of you, and fetch a looking-glass. [An Attendant exits.] NORTHUMBERLAND Read o'er this paper while the glass doth come. KING RICHARD Fiend, thou torments me ere I come to hell! BOLINGBROKE Urge it no more, my Lord Northumberland. NORTHUMBERLAND The commons will not then be satisfied. KING RICHARD They shall be satisfied. I'll read enough When I do see the very book indeed Where all my sins are writ, and that's myself. [Enter one with a glass.] Give me that glass, and therein will I read. [He takes the mirror.] No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struck So many blows upon this face of mine And made no deeper wounds? O flatt'ring glass, Like to my followers in prosperity, Thou dost beguile me. Was this face the face That every day under his household roof Did keep ten thousand men? Was this the face That like the sun did make beholders wink? Is this the face which faced so many follies, That was at last outfaced by Bolingbroke? A brittle glory shineth in this face. As brittle as the glory is the face, [He breaks the mirror.] For there it is, cracked in an hundred shivers.-- Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport: How soon my sorrow hath destroyed my face. BOLINGBROKE The shadow of your sorrow hath destroyed The shadow of your face. KING RICHARD Say that again. The shadow of my sorrow? Ha, let's see. 'Tis very true. My grief lies all within; And these external manners of laments Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells with silence in the tortured soul. There lies the substance. And I thank thee, king, For thy great bounty, that not only giv'st Me cause to wail but teachest me the way How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon And then be gone and trouble you no more. Shall I obtain it? BOLINGBROKE Name it, fair cousin. KING RICHARD "Fair cousin"? I am greater than a king, For when I was a king, my flatterers Were then but subjects. Being now a subject, I have a king here to my flatterer. Being so great, I have no need to beg. BOLINGBROKE Yet ask. KING RICHARD And shall I have? BOLINGBROKE You shall. KING RICHARD Then give me leave to go. BOLINGBROKE Whither? KING RICHARD Whither you will, so I were from your sights. BOLINGBROKE Go, some of you, convey him to the Tower. KING RICHARD O, good! "Convey"? Conveyers are you all, That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall. [Richard exits with Guards.] BOLINGBROKE On Wednesday next, we solemnly set down Our coronation. Lords, prepare yourselves. [They exit. The Abbot of Westminster, the Bishop of Carlisle, Aumerle remain.] ABBOT A woeful pageant have we here beheld. CARLISLE The woe's to come. The children yet unborn Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn. AUMERLE You holy clergymen, is there no plot To rid the realm of this pernicious blot? ABBOT My lord, Before I freely speak my mind herein, You shall not only take the sacrament To bury mine intents, but also to effect Whatever I shall happen to devise. I see your brows are full of discontent, Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears. Come home with me to supper. I'll lay A plot shall show us all a merry day. [They exit.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter the Queen with her Attendants.] QUEEN This way the King will come. This is the way To Julius Caesar's ill-erected tower, To whose flint bosom my condemned lord Is doomed a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke. Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth Have any resting for her true king's queen. [Enter Richard and Guard.] But soft, but see--or rather do not see My fair rose wither; yet look up, behold, That you in pity may dissolve to dew And wash him fresh again with true-love tears.-- Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand, Thou map of honor, thou King Richard's tomb, And not King Richard! Thou most beauteous inn, Why should hard-favored grief be lodged in thee When triumph is become an alehouse guest? KING RICHARD Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so, To make my end too sudden. Learn, good soul, To think our former state a happy dream, From which awaked, the truth of what we are Shows us but this: I am sworn brother, sweet, To grim necessity, and he and I Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France And cloister thee in some religious house. Our holy lives must win a new world's crown, Which our profane hours here have thrown down. QUEEN What, is my Richard both in shape and mind Transformed and weakened? Hath Bolingbroke Deposed thine intellect? Hath he been in thy heart? The lion dying thrusteth forth his paw And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage To be o'er-powered; and wilt thou, pupil-like, Take the correction, mildly kiss the rod, And fawn on rage with base humility, Which art a lion and the king of beasts? KING RICHARD A king of beasts indeed. If aught but beasts, I had been still a happy king of men. Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for France. Think I am dead and that even here thou takest, As from my deathbed, thy last living leave. In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales Of woeful ages long ago betid; And, ere thou bid good night, to quite their griefs, Tell thou the lamentable tale of me, And send the hearers weeping to their beds. Forwhy the senseless brands will sympathize The heavy accent of thy moving tongue, And in compassion weep the fire out, And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black, For the deposing of a rightful king. [Enter Northumberland.] NORTHUMBERLAND My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is changed. You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower.-- And madam, there is order ta'en for you. With all swift speed you must away to France. KING RICHARD Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne, The time shall not be many hours of age More than it is ere foul sin, gathering head, Shall break into corruption. Thou shalt think, Though he divide the realm and give thee half, It is too little, helping him to all. He shall think that thou, which knowest the way To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again, Being ne'er so little urged another way, To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne. The love of wicked men converts to fear, That fear to hate, and hate turns one or both To worthy danger and deserved death. NORTHUMBERLAND My guilt be on my head, and there an end. Take leave and part, for you must part forthwith. KING RICHARD Doubly divorced! Bad men, you violate A twofold marriage--twixt my crown and me, And then betwixt me and my married wife. [To Queen.] Let me unkiss the oath twixt thee and me; And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made.-- Part us, Northumberland, I towards the north, Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime; My wife to France, from whence set forth in pomp She came adorned hither like sweet May, Sent back like Hallowmas or short'st of day. QUEEN And must we be divided? Must we part? KING RICHARD Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart from heart. QUEEN, [to Northumberland] Banish us both, and send the King with me. NORTHUMBERLAND That were some love, but little policy. QUEEN Then whither he goes, thither let me go. KING RICHARD So two together weeping make one woe. Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here; Better far off than, near, be ne'er the near. Go, count thy way with sighs, I mine with groans. QUEEN So longest way shall have the longest moans. KING RICHARD Twice for one step I'll groan, the way being short, And piece the way out with a heavy heart. Come, come, in wooing sorrow let's be brief, Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief. One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part. Thus give I mine, and thus take I thy heart. [They kiss.] QUEEN Give me mine own again. 'Twere no good part To take on me to keep and kill thy heart. [They kiss.] So, now I have mine own again, begone, That I may strive to kill it with a groan. KING RICHARD We make woe wanton with this fond delay. Once more, adieu! The rest let sorrow say. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Duke of York and the Duchess.] DUCHESS My lord, you told me you would tell the rest, When weeping made you break the story off Of our two cousins coming into London. YORK Where did I leave? DUCHESS At that sad stop, my lord, Where rude misgoverned hands from windows' tops Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard's head. YORK Then, as I said, the Duke, great Bolingbroke, Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed, Which his aspiring rider seemed to know, With slow but stately pace kept on his course, Whilst all tongues cried "God save thee, Bolingbroke!" You would have thought the very windows spake, So many greedy looks of young and old Through casements darted their desiring eyes Upon his visage, and that all the walls With painted imagery had said at once "Jesu preserve thee! Welcome, Bolingbroke!" Whilst he, from the one side to the other turning, Bareheaded, lower than his proud steed's neck, Bespake them thus: "I thank you, countrymen." And thus still doing, thus he passed along. DUCHESS Alack, poor Richard! Where rode he the whilst? YORK As in a theater the eyes of men, After a well-graced actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious, Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Did scowl on gentle Richard. No man cried "God save him!" No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home, But dust was thrown upon his sacred head, Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off, His face still combating with tears and smiles, The badges of his grief and patience, That had not God for some strong purpose steeled The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, And barbarism itself have pitied him. But heaven hath a hand in these events, To whose high will we bound our calm contents. To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now, Whose state and honor I for aye allow. [Enter Aumerle.] DUCHESS Here comes my son Aumerle. YORK Aumerle that was; But that is lost for being Richard's friend, And, madam, you must call him Rutland now. I am in parliament pledge for his truth And lasting fealty to the new-made king. DUCHESS Welcome, my son. Who are the violets now That strew the green lap of the new-come spring? AUMERLE Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not. God knows I had as lief be none as one. YORK Well, bear you well in this new spring of time, Lest you be cropped before you come to prime. What news from Oxford? Do these jousts and triumphs hold? AUMERLE For aught I know, my lord, they do. YORK You will be there, I know. AUMERLE If God prevent not, I purpose so. YORK What seal is that that hangs without thy bosom? Yea, lookst thou pale? Let me see the writing. AUMERLE My lord, 'tis nothing. YORK No matter, then, who see it. I will be satisfied. Let me see the writing. AUMERLE I do beseech your Grace to pardon me. It is a matter of small consequence, Which for some reasons I would not have seen. YORK Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see. I fear, I fear-- DUCHESS What should you fear? 'Tis nothing but some bond that he is entered into For gay apparel 'gainst the triumph day. YORK Bound to himself? What doth he with a bond That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool.-- Boy, let me see the writing. AUMERLE I do beseech you, pardon me. I may not show it. YORK I will be satisfied. Let me see it, I say. [He plucks it out of his bosom and reads it.] YORK Treason! Foul treason! Villain, traitor, slave! DUCHESS What is the matter, my lord? YORK, [calling offstage] Ho, who is within there? Saddle my horse!-- God for his mercy, what treachery is here! DUCHESS Why, what is it, my lord? YORK, [calling offstage] Give me my boots, I say! Saddle my horse!-- Now by mine honor, by my life, by my troth, I will appeach the villain. DUCHESS What is the matter? YORK Peace, foolish woman. DUCHESS I will not peace!--What is the matter, Aumerle? AUMERLE Good mother, be content. It is no more Than my poor life must answer. DUCHESS Thy life answer? YORK, [calling offstage] Bring me my boots!--I will unto the King. [His man enters with his boots.] DUCHESS Strike him, Aumerle! Poor boy, thou art amazed.-- Hence, villain, never more come in my sight. YORK Give me my boots, I say. [His man helps him on with his boots, then exits.] DUCHESS Why, York, what wilt thou do? Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own? Have we more sons? Or are we like to have? Is not my teeming date drunk up with time? And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age And rob me of a happy mother's name? Is he not like thee? Is he not thine own? YORK Thou fond mad woman, Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy? A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament And interchangeably set down their hands To kill the King at Oxford. DUCHESS He shall be none. We'll keep him here. Then what is that to him? YORK Away, fond woman! Were he twenty times my son, I would appeach him. DUCHESS Hadst thou groaned for him as I have done, Thou wouldst be more pitiful. But now I know thy mind: thou dost suspect That I have been disloyal to thy bed And that he is a bastard, not thy son. Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind! He is as like thee as a man may be, Not like to me or any of my kin, And yet I love him. YORK Make way, unruly woman! [He exits.] DUCHESS After, Aumerle! Mount thee upon his horse, Spur post, and get before him to the King, And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee. I'll not be long behind. Though I be old, I doubt not but to ride as fast as York. And never will I rise up from the ground Till Bolingbroke have pardoned thee. Away, begone! [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter the King with his Nobles.] KING HENRY Can no man tell me of my unthrifty son? 'Tis full three months since I did see him last. If any plague hang over us, 'tis he. I would to God, my lords, he might be found. Inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there, For there, they say, he daily doth frequent With unrestrained loose companions, Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes And beat our watch and rob our passengers, While he, young wanton and effeminate boy, Takes on the point of honor to support So dissolute a crew. PERCY My lord, some two days since I saw the Prince, And told him of those triumphs held at Oxford. KING HENRY And what said the gallant? PERCY His answer was, he would unto the stews, And from the common'st creature pluck a glove And wear it as a favor, and with that He would unhorse the lustiest challenger. KING HENRY As dissolute as desperate. Yet through both I see some sparks of better hope, which elder years May happily bring forth. But who comes here? [Enter Aumerle amazed.] AUMERLE Where is the King? KING HENRY What means our cousin, that he stares and looks so wildly? AUMERLE God save your Grace. I do beseech your Majesty To have some conference with your Grace alone. KING HENRY, [to his Nobles] Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone. [The Nobles exit.] What is the matter with our cousin now? AUMERLE, [kneeling] Forever may my knees grow to the earth, My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth, Unless a pardon ere I rise or speak. KING HENRY Intended or committed was this fault? If on the first, how heinous e'er it be, To win thy after-love I pardon thee. AUMERLE, [standing] Then give me leave that I may turn the key That no man enter till my tale be done. KING HENRY Have thy desire. [Aumerle locks the door.] [The Duke of York knocks at the door and crieth.] YORK, [within] My liege, beware! Look to thyself! Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there. KING HENRY, [to Aumerle] Villain, I'll make thee safe. [He draws his sword.] AUMERLE Stay thy revengeful hand. Thou hast no cause to fear. YORK, [within] Open the door, secure, foolhardy king! Shall I for love speak treason to thy face? Open the door, or I will break it open. [King Henry unlocks the door.] [Enter York.] KING HENRY What is the matter, uncle? Speak. Recover breath. Tell us how near is danger That we may arm us to encounter it. YORK, [giving King Henry a paper] Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know The treason that my haste forbids me show. AUMERLE, [to King Henry] Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise passed. I do repent me. Read not my name there. My heart is not confederate with my hand. YORK It was, villain, ere thy hand did set it down.-- I tore it from the traitor's bosom, king. Fear, and not love, begets his penitence. Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove A serpent that will sting thee to the heart. KING HENRY O heinous, strong, and bold conspiracy! O loyal father of a treacherous son, Thou sheer, immaculate, and silver fountain From whence this stream, through muddy passages, Hath held his current and defiled himself, Thy overflow of good converts to bad, And thy abundant goodness shall excuse This deadly blot in thy digressing son. YORK So shall my virtue be his vice's bawd, And he shall spend mine honor with his shame, As thriftless sons their scraping fathers' gold. Mine honor lives when his dishonor dies, Or my shamed life in his dishonor lies. Thou kill'st me in his life: giving him breath, The traitor lives, the true man's put to death. DUCHESS, [within] What ho, my liege! For God's sake, let me in! KING HENRY What shrill-voiced suppliant makes this eager cry? DUCHESS, [within] A woman and thy aunt, great king. 'Tis I. Speak with me, pity me. Open the door! A beggar begs that never begged before. KING HENRY Our scene is altered from a serious thing And now changed to "The Beggar and the King."-- My dangerous cousin, let your mother in. I know she is come to pray for your foul sin. [Aumerle opens the door.] [Duchess of York enters and kneels.] YORK If thou do pardon whosoever pray, More sins for this forgiveness prosper may. This festered joint cut off, the rest rest sound. This let alone will all the rest confound. DUCHESS O king, believe not this hard-hearted man. Love loving not itself, none other can. YORK Thou frantic woman, what dost thou make here? Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear? DUCHESS Sweet York, be patient.--Hear me, gentle liege. KING HENRY Rise up, good aunt. DUCHESS Not yet, I thee beseech. Forever will I walk upon my knees And never see day that the happy sees, Till thou give joy, until thou bid me joy By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy. AUMERLE, [kneeling] Unto my mother's prayers I bend my knee. YORK, [kneeling] Against them both my true joints bended be. Ill mayst thou thrive if thou grant any grace. DUCHESS Pleads he in earnest? Look upon his face. His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest; His words come from his mouth, ours from our breast. He prays but faintly and would be denied. We pray with heart and soul and all beside. His weary joints would gladly rise, I know. Our knees still kneel till to the ground they grow. His prayers are full of false hypocrisy, Ours of true zeal and deep integrity. Our prayers do outpray his. Then let them have That mercy which true prayer ought to have. KING HENRY Good aunt, stand up. DUCHESS Nay, do not say "stand up." Say "pardon" first and afterwards "stand up." An if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach, "Pardon" should be the first word of thy speech. I never longed to hear a word till now. Say "pardon," king; let pity teach thee how. The word is short, but not so short as sweet. No word like "pardon" for kings' mouths so meet. YORK Speak it in French, king. Say "pardonne moy." DUCHESS Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy? Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord, That sets the word itself against the word! [To King Henry.] Speak "pardon" as 'tis current in our land; The chopping French we do not understand. Thine eye begins to speak; set thy tongue there, Or in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear, That, hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce, Pity may move thee "pardon" to rehearse. KING HENRY Good aunt, stand up. DUCHESS I do not sue to stand. Pardon is all the suit I have in hand. KING HENRY I pardon him, as God shall pardon me. DUCHESS O, happy vantage of a kneeling knee! Yet am I sick for fear. Speak it again. Twice saying "pardon" doth not pardon twain, But makes one pardon strong. KING HENRY I pardon him with all my heart. DUCHESS A god on Earth thou art. [They all stand.] KING HENRY But for our trusty brother-in-law and the Abbot, With all the rest of that consorted crew, Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels. Good uncle, help to order several powers To Oxford or where'er these traitors are. They shall not live within this world, I swear, But I will have them, if I once know where. Uncle, farewell,--and cousin, adieu. Your mother well hath prayed; and prove you true. DUCHESS, [to Aumerle] Come, my old son. I pray God make thee new. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Sir Pierce Exton and Servants.] EXTON Didst thou not mark the King, what words he spake, "Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear?" Was it not so? SERVINGMAN These were his very words. EXTON "Have I no friend?" quoth he. He spake it twice And urged it twice together, did he not? SERVINGMAN He did. EXTON And speaking it, he wishtly looked on me, As who should say "I would thou wert the man That would divorce this terror from my heart"-- Meaning the king at Pomfret. Come, let's go. I am the King's friend and will rid his foe. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Richard alone.] RICHARD I have been studying how I may compare This prison where I live unto the world, And for because the world is populous And here is not a creature but myself, I cannot do it. Yet I'll hammer it out. My brain I'll prove the female to my soul, My soul the father, and these two beget A generation of still-breeding thoughts, And these same thoughts people this little world, In humors like the people of this world, For no thought is contented. The better sort, As thoughts of things divine, are intermixed With scruples, and do set the word itself Against the word, as thus: "Come, little ones," And then again, "It is as hard to come as for a camel To thread the postern of a small needle's eye." Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot Unlikely wonders: how these vain weak nails May tear a passage through the flinty ribs Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls, And, for they cannot, die in their own pride. Thoughts tending to content flatter themselves That they are not the first of fortune's slaves, Nor shall not be the last--like silly beggars Who, sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame That many have and others must sit there, And in this thought they find a kind of ease, Bearing their own misfortunes on the back Of such as have before endured the like. Thus play I in one person many people, And none contented. Sometimes am I king. Then treasons make me wish myself a beggar, And so I am; then crushing penury Persuades me I was better when a king. Then am I kinged again, and by and by Think that I am unkinged by Bolingbroke, And straight am nothing. But whate'er I be, Nor I nor any man that but man is With nothing shall be pleased till he be eased With being nothing. [(The music plays.)] Music do I hear? Ha, ha, keep time! How sour sweet music is When time is broke and no proportion kept. So is it in the music of men's lives. And here have I the daintiness of ear To check time broke in a disordered string; But for the concord of my state and time Had not an ear to hear my true time broke. I wasted time, and now doth time waste me; For now hath time made me his numb'ring clock. My thoughts are minutes, and with sighs they jar Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch, Whereto my finger, like a dial's point, Is pointing still in cleansing them from tears. Now, sir, the sound that tells what hour it is Are clamorous groans which strike upon my heart, Which is the bell. So sighs and tears and groans Show minutes, times, and hours. But my time Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy, While I stand fooling here, his jack of the clock. This music mads me. Let it sound no more, For though it have holp madmen to their wits, In me it seems it will make wise men mad. Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me, For 'tis a sign of love, and love to Richard Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world. [Enter a Groom of the stable.] GROOM Hail, royal prince! RICHARD Thanks, noble peer. The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear. What art thou, and how comest thou hither, Where no man never comes but that sad dog That brings me food to make misfortune live? GROOM I was a poor groom of thy stable, king, When thou wert king; who, traveling towards York, With much ado at length have gotten leave To look upon my sometime royal master's face. O, how it earned my heart when I beheld In London streets, that coronation day, When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary, That horse that thou so often hast bestrid, That horse that I so carefully have dressed. RICHARD Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle friend, How went he under him? GROOM So proudly as if he disdained the ground. RICHARD So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back! That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand; This hand hath made him proud with clapping him. Would he not stumble? Would he not fall down (Since pride must have a fall) and break the neck Of that proud man that did usurp his back? Forgiveness, horse! Why do I rail on thee, Since thou, created to be awed by man, Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse, And yet I bear a burden like an ass, Spurred, galled, and tired by jauncing Bolingbroke. [Enter one, the Keeper, to Richard with meat.] KEEPER, [to Groom] Fellow, give place. Here is no longer stay. RICHARD, [to Groom] If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert away. GROOM What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall say. [Groom exits.] KEEPER My lord, will 't please you to fall to? RICHARD Taste of it first as thou art wont to do. KEEPER My lord, I dare not. Sir Pierce of Exton, Who lately came from the King, commands the contrary. RICHARD, [attacking the Keeper] The devil take Henry of Lancaster and thee! Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. KEEPER Help, help, help! [The Murderers Exton and his men rush in.] RICHARD How now, what means death in this rude assault? Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument. [Richard seizes a weapon from a Murderer and kills him with it.] Go thou and fill another room in hell. [He kills another Murderer.] [Here Exton strikes him down.] That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire That staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce hand Hath with the King's blood stained the King's own land. Mount, mount, my soul. Thy seat is up on high, Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die. [He dies.] EXTON As full of valor as of royal blood. Both have I spilled. O, would the deed were good! For now the devil that told me I did well Says that this deed is chronicled in hell. This dead king to the living king I'll bear. Take hence the rest and give them burial here. [They exit with the bodies.] Scene 6 ======= [Enter King Henry, with the Duke of York.] KING HENRY Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear Is that the rebels have consumed with fire Our town of Ciceter in Gloucestershire, But whether they be ta'en or slain we hear not. [Enter Northumberland.] Welcome, my lord. What is the news? NORTHUMBERLAND First, to thy sacred state wish I all happiness. The next news is: I have to London sent The heads of Oxford, Salisbury, Blunt, and Kent. The manner of their taking may appear At large discoursed in this paper here. [He gives King Henry a paper.] KING HENRY We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains, And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. [Enter Lord Fitzwater.] FITZWATER My lord, I have from Oxford sent to London The heads of Brocas and Sir Bennet Seely, Two of the dangerous consorted traitors That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow. KING HENRY Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot. Right noble is thy merit, well I wot. [Enter Harry Percy with the Bishop of Carlisle.] PERCY The grand conspirator, Abbot of Westminster, With clog of conscience and sour melancholy Hath yielded up his body to the grave. But here is Carlisle living, to abide Thy kingly doom and sentence of his pride. KING HENRY Carlisle, this is your doom: Choose out some secret place, some reverend room, More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life. So, as thou liv'st in peace, die free from strife; For, though mine enemy thou hast ever been, High sparks of honor in thee have I seen. [Enter Exton and Servingmen with the coffin.] EXTON Great king, within this coffin I present Thy buried fear. Herein all breathless lies The mightiest of thy greatest enemies, Richard of Bourdeaux, by me hither brought. KING HENRY Exton, I thank thee not, for thou hast wrought A deed of slander with thy fatal hand Upon my head and all this famous land. EXTON From your own mouth, my lord, did I this deed. KING HENRY They love not poison that do poison need, Nor do I thee. Though I did wish him dead, I hate the murderer, love him murdered. The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labor, But neither my good word nor princely favor. With Cain go wander through shades of night, And never show thy head by day nor light. [Exton exits.] Lords, I protest my soul is full of woe That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow. Come mourn with me for what I do lament, And put on sullen black incontinent. I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land To wash this blood off from my guilty hand. [Servingmen lift the coffin to carry it out.] March sadly after. Grace my mournings here In weeping after this untimely bier. [They exit, following the coffin.]

Richard III by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== RICHARD, Duke of Gloucester, later King Richard III LADY ANNE, widow of Edward, son to the late King Henry VI; later wife to Richard KING EDWARD IV, brother to Richard QUEEN ELIZABETH, Edward's wife, formerly the Lady Grey Their sons: PRINCE EDWARD RICHARD, DUKE OF YORK GEORGE, DUKE OF CLARENCE, brother to Edward and Richard Clarence's BOY Clarence's DAUGHTER DUCHESS OF YORK, mother of Richard, Edward, and Clarence QUEEN MARGARET, widow of King Henry VI DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM WILLIAM, LORD HASTINGS, Lord Chamberlain LORD STANLEY, Earl of Derby EARL RIVERS, brother to Queen Elizabeth Sons of Queen Elizabeth by her former marriage: LORD GREY MARQUESS OF DORSET SIR THOMAS VAUGHAN Richard's supporters: SIR WILLIAM CATESBY SIR RICHARD RATCLIFFE LORD LOVELL DUKE OF NORFOLK EARL OF SURREY EARL OF RICHMOND, Henry Tudor, later King Henry VII Richmond's supporters: EARL OF OXFORD SIR JAMES BLUNT SIR WALTER HERBERT SIR WILLIAM BRANDON SIR CHRISTOPHER, a priest ARCHBISHOP CARDINAL JOHN MORTON, BISHOP OF ELY SIR ROBERT BRAKENBURY, Lieutenant of the Tower in London JAMES TYRREL, gentleman GENTLEMAN, attending Lady Anne Two MURDERERS KEEPER in the Tower Three CITIZENS LORD MAYOR of London PURSUIVANT SIR JOHN, a priest SCRIVENER PAGE SHERIFF Seven MESSENGERS GHOSTS of King Henry VI, his son Prince Edward, Clarence, Rivers, Grey, Vaughan, the two Princes, Hastings, Lady Anne, and Buckingham Guards, Tressel, Berkeley, Halberds, Gentlemen, Anthony Woodeville and Lord Scales (brothers to Queen Elizabeth), Two Bishops, Sir William Brandon, Lords, Attendants, Citizens, Aldermen, Councillors, Soldiers ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Richard, Duke of Gloucester, alone.] RICHARD Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this son of York, And all the clouds that loured upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths, Our bruised arms hung up for monuments, Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front; And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an amorous looking glass; I, that am rudely stamped and want love's majesty To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; I, that am curtailed of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time Into this breathing world scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them-- Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to see my shadow in the sun And descant on mine own deformity. And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover To entertain these fair well-spoken days, I am determined to prove a villain And hate the idle pleasures of these days. Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous, By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams, To set my brother Clarence and the King In deadly hate, the one against the other; And if King Edward be as true and just As I am subtle, false, and treacherous, This day should Clarence closely be mewed up About a prophecy which says that "G" Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be. Dive, thoughts, down to my soul. Here Clarence comes. [Enter Clarence, guarded, and Brakenbury.] Brother, good day. What means this armed guard That waits upon your Grace? CLARENCE His Majesty, Tend'ring my person's safety, hath appointed This conduct to convey me to the Tower. RICHARD Upon what cause? CLARENCE Because my name is George. RICHARD Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours. He should, for that, commit your godfathers. O, belike his Majesty hath some intent That you should be new christened in the Tower. But what's the matter, Clarence? May I know? CLARENCE Yea, Richard, when I know, for I protest As yet I do not. But, as I can learn, He hearkens after prophecies and dreams, And from the crossrow plucks the letter G, And says a wizard told him that by "G" His issue disinherited should be. And for my name of George begins with G, It follows in his thought that I am he. These, as I learn, and such like toys as these Hath moved his Highness to commit me now. RICHARD Why, this it is when men are ruled by women. 'Tis not the King that sends you to the Tower. My Lady Grey his wife, Clarence, 'tis she That tempers him to this extremity. Was it not she and that good man of worship, Anthony Woodeville, her brother there, That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower, From whence this present day he is delivered? We are not safe, Clarence; we are not safe. CLARENCE By heaven, I think there is no man secure But the Queen's kindred and night-walking heralds That trudge betwixt the King and Mistress Shore. Heard you not what an humble suppliant Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery? RICHARD Humbly complaining to her Deity Got my Lord Chamberlain his liberty. I'll tell you what: I think it is our way, If we will keep in favor with the King, To be her men and wear her livery. The jealous o'erworn widow and herself, Since that our brother dubbed them gentlewomen, Are mighty gossips in our monarchy. BRAKENBURY I beseech your Graces both to pardon me. His Majesty hath straitly given in charge That no man shall have private conference, Of what degree soever, with your brother. RICHARD Even so. An please your Worship, Brakenbury, You may partake of anything we say. We speak no treason, man. We say the King Is wise and virtuous, and his noble queen Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous. We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot, A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue, And that the Queen's kindred are made gentlefolks. How say you, sir? Can you deny all this? BRAKENBURY With this, my lord, myself have naught to do. RICHARD Naught to do with Mistress Shore? I tell thee, fellow, He that doth naught with her, excepting one, Were best to do it secretly, alone. BRAKENBURY I do beseech your Grace to pardon me, and withal Forbear your conference with the noble duke. CLARENCE We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey. RICHARD We are the Queen's abjects and must obey.-- Brother, farewell. I will unto the King, And whatsoe'er you will employ me in, Were it to call King Edward's widow "sister," I will perform it to enfranchise you. Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood Touches me deeper than you can imagine. CLARENCE I know it pleaseth neither of us well. RICHARD Well, your imprisonment shall not be long. I will deliver you or else lie for you. Meantime, have patience. CLARENCE I must, perforce. Farewell. [Exit Clarence, Brakenbury, and guard.] RICHARD Go tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return. Simple, plain Clarence, I do love thee so That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven, If heaven will take the present at our hands. But who comes here? The new-delivered Hastings? [Enter Lord Hastings.] HASTINGS Good time of day unto my gracious lord. RICHARD As much unto my good Lord Chamberlain. Well are you welcome to the open air. How hath your Lordship brooked imprisonment? HASTINGS With patience, noble lord, as prisoners must. But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks That were the cause of my imprisonment. RICHARD No doubt, no doubt; and so shall Clarence too, For they that were your enemies are his And have prevailed as much on him as you. HASTINGS More pity that the eagles should be mewed, Whiles kites and buzzards prey at liberty. RICHARD What news abroad? HASTINGS No news so bad abroad as this at home: The King is sickly, weak, and melancholy, And his physicians fear him mightily. RICHARD Now, by Saint John, that news is bad indeed. O, he hath kept an evil diet long, And overmuch consumed his royal person. 'Tis very grievous to be thought upon. Where is he, in his bed? HASTINGS He is. RICHARD Go you before, and I will follow you. [Exit Hastings.] He cannot live, I hope, and must not die Till George be packed with post-horse up to heaven. I'll in to urge his hatred more to Clarence With lies well steeled with weighty arguments, And, if I fail not in my deep intent, Clarence hath not another day to live; Which done, God take King Edward to His mercy, And leave the world for me to bustle in. For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter. What though I killed her husband and her father? The readiest way to make the wench amends Is to become her husband and her father; The which will I, not all so much for love As for another secret close intent By marrying her which I must reach unto. But yet I run before my horse to market. Clarence still breathes; Edward still lives and reigns. When they are gone, then must I count my gains. [He exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter the corse of Henry the Sixth on a bier, with Halberds to guard it, Lady Anne being the mourner, accompanied by Gentlemen.] ANNE Set down, set down your honorable load, If honor may be shrouded in a hearse, Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament Th' untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster. [They set down the bier.] Poor key-cold figure of a holy king, Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster, Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood, Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost To hear the lamentations of poor Anne, Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughtered son, Stabbed by the selfsame hand that made these wounds. Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes. O, cursed be the hand that made these holes; Cursed the heart that had the heart to do it; Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence. More direful hap betide that hated wretch That makes us wretched by the death of thee Than I can wish to wolves, to spiders, toads, Or any creeping venomed thing that lives. If ever he have child, abortive be it, Prodigious, and untimely brought to light, Whose ugly and unnatural aspect May fright the hopeful mother at the view, And that be heir to his unhappiness. If ever he have wife, let her be made More miserable by the death of him Than I am made by my young lord and thee.-- Come now towards Chertsey with your holy load, Taken from Paul's to be interred there. [They take up the bier.] And still, as you are weary of this weight, Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry's corse. [Enter Richard, Duke of Gloucester.] RICHARD Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down. ANNE What black magician conjures up this fiend To stop devoted charitable deeds? RICHARD Villains, set down the corse or, by Saint Paul, I'll make a corse of him that disobeys. GENTLEMAN My lord, stand back and let the coffin pass. RICHARD Unmannered dog, stand thou when I command!-- Advance thy halberd higher than my breast, Or by Saint Paul I'll strike thee to my foot And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness. [They set down the bier.] ANNE, [to the Gentlemen and Halberds] What, do you tremble? Are you all afraid? Alas, I blame you not, for you are mortal, And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil.-- Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell. Thou hadst but power over his mortal body; His soul thou canst not have. Therefore begone. RICHARD Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst. ANNE Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and trouble us not, For thou hast made the happy Earth thy hell, Filled it with cursing cries and deep exclaims. If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds, Behold this pattern of thy butcheries. [She points to the corpse.] O, gentlemen, see, see dead Henry's wounds Open their congealed mouths and bleed afresh!-- Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity, For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood From cold and empty veins where no blood dwells. Thy deeds, inhuman and unnatural, Provokes this deluge most unnatural.-- O God, which this blood mad'st, revenge his death! O Earth, which this blood drink'st, revenge his death! Either heaven with lightning strike the murderer dead, Or Earth gape open wide and eat him quick, As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood, Which his hell-governed arm hath butchered. RICHARD Lady, you know no rules of charity, Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses. ANNE Villain, thou know'st nor law of God nor man. No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity. RICHARD But I know none, and therefore am no beast. ANNE O, wonderful, when devils tell the truth! RICHARD More wonderful, when angels are so angry. Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman, Of these supposed crimes to give me leave By circumstance but to acquit myself. ANNE Vouchsafe, defused infection of a man, Of these known evils but to give me leave By circumstance to curse thy cursed self. RICHARD Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have Some patient leisure to excuse myself. ANNE Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make No excuse current but to hang thyself. RICHARD By such despair I should accuse myself. ANNE And by despairing shalt thou stand excused For doing worthy vengeance on thyself That didst unworthy slaughter upon others. RICHARD Say that I slew them not. ANNE Then say they were not slain. But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee. RICHARD I did not kill your husband. ANNE Why then, he is alive. RICHARD Nay, he is dead, and slain by Edward's hands. ANNE In thy foul throat thou liest. Queen Margaret saw Thy murd'rous falchion smoking in his blood, The which thou once didst bend against her breast, But that thy brothers beat aside the point. RICHARD I was provoked by her sland'rous tongue, That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders. ANNE Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind, That never dream'st on aught but butcheries. Didst thou not kill this king? RICHARD I grant you. ANNE Dost grant me, hedgehog? Then, God grant me too Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed. O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous. RICHARD The better for the King of heaven that hath him. ANNE He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come. RICHARD Let him thank me, that holp to send him thither, For he was fitter for that place than Earth. ANNE And thou unfit for any place but hell. RICHARD Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it. ANNE Some dungeon. RICHARD Your bedchamber. ANNE Ill rest betide the chamber where thou liest! RICHARD So will it, madam, till I lie with you. ANNE I hope so. RICHARD I know so. But, gentle Lady Anne, To leave this keen encounter of our wits And fall something into a slower method: Is not the causer of the timeless deaths Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward, As blameful as the executioner? ANNE Thou wast the cause and most accursed effect. RICHARD Your beauty was the cause of that effect-- Your beauty, that did haunt me in my sleep To undertake the death of all the world, So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom. ANNE If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide, These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks. RICHARD These eyes could not endure that beauty's wrack. You should not blemish it, if I stood by. As all the world is cheered by the sun, So I by that. It is my day, my life. ANNE Black night o'ershade thy day, and death thy life. RICHARD Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art both. ANNE I would I were, to be revenged on thee. RICHARD It is a quarrel most unnatural To be revenged on him that loveth thee. ANNE It is a quarrel just and reasonable To be revenged on him that killed my husband. RICHARD He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband Did it to help thee to a better husband. ANNE His better doth not breathe upon the earth. RICHARD He lives that loves thee better than he could. ANNE Name him. RICHARD Plantagenet. ANNE Why, that was he. RICHARD The selfsame name, but one of better nature. ANNE Where is he? RICHARD Here. [(She spits at him.)] Why dost thou spit at me? ANNE Would it were mortal poison for thy sake. RICHARD Never came poison from so sweet a place. ANNE Never hung poison on a fouler toad. Out of my sight! Thou dost infect mine eyes. RICHARD Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine. ANNE Would they were basilisks' to strike thee dead. RICHARD I would they were, that I might die at once, For now they kill me with a living death. Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears, Shamed their aspects with store of childish drops. These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear-- No, when my father York and Edward wept To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made When black-faced Clifford shook his sword at him; Nor when thy warlike father, like a child, Told the sad story of my father's death And twenty times made pause to sob and weep, That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks Like trees bedashed with rain--in that sad time, My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear; And what these sorrows could not thence exhale Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping. I never sued to friend nor enemy; My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word. But now thy beauty is proposed my fee, My proud heart sues and prompts my tongue to speak. [She looks scornfully at him.] Teach not thy lip such scorn, for it was made For kissing, lady, not for such contempt. If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword, Which if thou please to hide in this true breast And let the soul forth that adoreth thee, I lay it naked to the deadly stroke And humbly beg the death upon my knee. [He kneels and lays his breast open; she offers at it with his sword.] Nay, do not pause, for I did kill King Henry-- But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me. Nay, now dispatch; 'twas I that stabbed young Edward-- But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on. [She falls the sword.] Take up the sword again, or take up me. ANNE Arise, dissembler. Though I wish thy death, I will not be thy executioner. RICHARD, [rising] Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it. ANNE I have already. RICHARD That was in thy rage. Speak it again and, even with the word, This hand, which for thy love did kill thy love, Shall for thy love kill a far truer love. To both their deaths shalt thou be accessory. ANNE I would I knew thy heart. RICHARD 'Tis figured in my tongue. ANNE I fear me both are false. RICHARD Then never was man true. ANNE Well, well, put up your sword. RICHARD Say then my peace is made. ANNE That shalt thou know hereafter. RICHARD But shall I live in hope? ANNE All men I hope live so. RICHARD Vouchsafe to wear this ring. ANNE To take is not to give. [He places the ring on her hand.] RICHARD Look how my ring encompasseth thy finger; Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart. Wear both of them, for both of them are thine. And if thy poor devoted servant may But beg one favor at thy gracious hand, Thou dost confirm his happiness forever. ANNE What is it? RICHARD That it may please you leave these sad designs To him that hath most cause to be a mourner, And presently repair to Crosby House, Where, after I have solemnly interred At Chertsey monast'ry this noble king And wet his grave with my repentant tears, I will with all expedient duty see you. For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you, Grant me this boon. ANNE With all my heart, and much it joys me too To see you are become so penitent.-- Tressel and Berkeley, go along with me. RICHARD Bid me farewell. ANNE 'Tis more than you deserve; But since you teach me how to flatter you, Imagine I have said "farewell" already. [Two exit with Anne. The bier is taken up.] GENTLEMAN Towards Chertsey, noble lord? RICHARD No, to Whitefriars. There attend my coming. [Halberds and gentlemen exit with corse.] Was ever woman in this humor wooed? Was ever woman in this humor won? I'll have her, but I will not keep her long. What, I that killed her husband and his father, To take her in her heart's extremest hate, With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, The bleeding witness of my hatred by, Having God, her conscience, and these bars against me, And I no friends to back my suit at all But the plain devil and dissembling looks? And yet to win her, all the world to nothing! Ha! Hath she forgot already that brave prince, Edward, her lord, whom I some three months since Stabbed in my angry mood at Tewkesbury? A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman, Framed in the prodigality of nature, Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal, The spacious world cannot again afford. And will she yet abase her eyes on me, That cropped the golden prime of this sweet prince And made her widow to a woeful bed? On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety? On me, that halts and am misshapen thus? My dukedom to a beggarly denier, I do mistake my person all this while! Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot, Myself to be a marv'lous proper man. I'll be at charges for a looking glass And entertain a score or two of tailors To study fashions to adorn my body. Since I am crept in favor with myself, I will maintain it with some little cost. But first I'll turn yon fellow in his grave And then return lamenting to my love. Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass, That I may see my shadow as I pass. [He exits.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Queen Elizabeth, the Lord Marquess of Dorset, Lord Rivers, and Lord Grey.] RIVERS Have patience, madam. There's no doubt his Majesty Will soon recover his accustomed health. GREY In that you brook it ill, it makes him worse. Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comfort And cheer his Grace with quick and merry eyes. QUEEN ELIZABETH If he were dead, what would betide on me? GREY No other harm but loss of such a lord. QUEEN ELIZABETH The loss of such a lord includes all harms. GREY The heavens have blessed you with a goodly son To be your comforter when he is gone. QUEEN ELIZABETH Ah, he is young, and his minority Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloucester, A man that loves not me nor none of you. RIVERS Is it concluded he shall be Protector? QUEEN ELIZABETH It is determined, not concluded yet; But so it must be if the King miscarry. [Enter Buckingham and Lord Stanley, Earl of Derby.] GREY Here comes the lord of Buckingham, and Derby. BUCKINGHAM, [to Queen Elizabeth] Good time of day unto your royal Grace. STANLEY God make your Majesty joyful, as you have been. QUEEN ELIZABETH The Countess Richmond, good my lord of Derby, To your good prayer will scarcely say amen. Yet, Derby, notwithstanding she's your wife And loves not me, be you, good lord, assured I hate not you for her proud arrogance. STANLEY I do beseech you either not believe The envious slanders of her false accusers, Or if she be accused on true report, Bear with her weakness, which I think proceeds From wayward sickness and no grounded malice. QUEEN ELIZABETH Saw you the King today, my lord of Derby? STANLEY But now the Duke of Buckingham and I Are come from visiting his Majesty. QUEEN ELIZABETH What likelihood of his amendment, lords? BUCKINGHAM Madam, good hope. His Grace speaks cheerfully. QUEEN ELIZABETH God grant him health. Did you confer with him? BUCKINGHAM Ay, madam. He desires to make atonement Between the Duke of Gloucester and your brothers, And between them and my Lord Chamberlain, And sent to warn them to his royal presence. QUEEN ELIZABETH Would all were well--but that will never be. I fear our happiness is at the height. [Enter Richard, Duke of Gloucester, and Hastings.] RICHARD They do me wrong, and I will not endure it! Who is it that complains unto the King That I, forsooth, am stern and love them not? By holy Paul, they love his Grace but lightly That fill his ears with such dissentious rumors. Because I cannot flatter and look fair, Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog, Duck with French nods and apish courtesy, I must be held a rancorous enemy. Cannot a plain man live and think no harm, But thus his simple truth must be abused With silken, sly, insinuating Jacks? GREY To who in all this presence speaks your Grace? RICHARD To thee, that hast nor honesty nor grace. When have I injured thee? When done thee wrong?-- Or thee?--Or thee? Or any of your faction? A plague upon you all! His royal Grace, Whom God preserve better than you would wish, Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing while But you must trouble him with lewd complaints. QUEEN ELIZABETH Brother of Gloucester, you mistake the matter. The King, on his own royal disposition, And not provoked by any suitor else, Aiming belike at your interior hatred That in your outward action shows itself Against my children, brothers, and myself, Makes him to send, that he may learn the ground. RICHARD I cannot tell. The world is grown so bad That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch. Since every Jack became a gentleman, There's many a gentle person made a Jack. QUEEN ELIZABETH Come, come, we know your meaning, brother Gloucester. You envy my advancement, and my friends'. God grant we never may have need of you. RICHARD Meantime God grants that we have need of you. Our brother is imprisoned by your means, Myself disgraced, and the nobility Held in contempt, while great promotions Are daily given to ennoble those That scarce some two days since were worth a noble. QUEEN ELIZABETH By Him that raised me to this careful height From that contented hap which I enjoyed, I never did incense his Majesty Against the Duke of Clarence, but have been An earnest advocate to plead for him. My lord, you do me shameful injury Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects. RICHARD You may deny that you were not the mean Of my Lord Hastings' late imprisonment. RIVERS She may, my lord, for-- RICHARD She may, Lord Rivers. Why, who knows not so? She may do more, sir, than denying that. She may help you to many fair preferments And then deny her aiding hand therein, And lay those honors on your high desert. What may she not? She may, ay, marry, may she-- RIVERS What, marry, may she? RICHARD What, marry, may she? Marry with a king, A bachelor, and a handsome stripling too. Iwis, your grandam had a worser match. QUEEN ELIZABETH My lord of Gloucester, I have too long borne Your blunt upbraidings and your bitter scoffs. By heaven, I will acquaint his Majesty Of those gross taunts that oft I have endured. I had rather be a country servant-maid Than a great queen with this condition, To be so baited, scorned, and stormed at. [Enter old Queen Margaret, apart from the others.] Small joy have I in being England's queen. QUEEN MARGARET, [aside] And lessened be that small, God I beseech Him! Thy honor, state, and seat is due to me. RICHARD, [to Queen Elizabeth] What, threat you me with telling of the King? Tell him and spare not. Look, what I have said, I will avouch 't in presence of the King; I dare adventure to be sent to th' Tower. 'Tis time to speak. My pains are quite forgot. QUEEN MARGARET, [aside] Out, devil! I do remember them too well: Thou killed'st my husband Henry in the Tower, And Edward, my poor son, at Tewkesbury. RICHARD, [to Queen Elizabeth] Ere you were queen, ay, or your husband king, I was a packhorse in his great affairs, A weeder-out of his proud adversaries, A liberal rewarder of his friends. To royalize his blood, I spent mine own. QUEEN MARGARET, [aside] Ay, and much better blood than his or thine. RICHARD, [to Queen Elizabeth] In all which time, you and your husband Grey Were factious for the House of Lancaster.-- And, Rivers, so were you.--Was not your husband In Margaret's battle at Saint Albans slain? Let me put in your minds, if you forget, What you have been ere this, and what you are; Withal, what I have been, and what I am. QUEEN MARGARET, [aside] A murd'rous villain, and so still thou art. RICHARD, [to Queen Elizabeth] Poor Clarence did forsake his father Warwick, Ay, and forswore himself--which Jesu pardon!-- QUEEN MARGARET, [aside] Which God revenge! RICHARD To fight on Edward's party for the crown; And for his meed, poor lord, he is mewed up. I would to God my heart were flint, like Edward's, Or Edward's soft and pitiful, like mine. I am too childish-foolish for this world. QUEEN MARGARET, [aside] Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave this world, Thou cacodemon! There thy kingdom is. RIVERS My lord of Gloucester, in those busy days Which here you urge to prove us enemies, We followed then our lord, our sovereign king. So should we you, if you should be our king. RICHARD If I should be? I had rather be a peddler. Far be it from my heart, the thought thereof. QUEEN ELIZABETH As little joy, my lord, as you suppose You should enjoy were you this country's king, As little joy you may suppose in me That I enjoy, being the queen thereof. QUEEN MARGARET, [aside] As little joy enjoys the queen thereof, For I am she, and altogether joyless. I can no longer hold me patient. [She steps forward.] Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out In sharing that which you have pilled from me! Which of you trembles not that looks on me? If not, that I am queen, you bow like subjects, Yet that, by you deposed, you quake like rebels.-- Ah, gentle villain, do not turn away. RICHARD Foul, wrinkled witch, what mak'st thou in my sight? QUEEN MARGARET But repetition of what thou hast marred. That will I make before I let thee go. RICHARD Wert thou not banished on pain of death? QUEEN MARGARET I was, but I do find more pain in banishment Than death can yield me here by my abode. A husband and a son thou ow'st to me; [To Queen Elizabeth.] And thou a kingdom;--all of you, allegiance. This sorrow that I have by right is yours, And all the pleasures you usurp are mine. RICHARD The curse my noble father laid on thee When thou didst crown his warlike brows with paper, And with thy scorns drew'st rivers from his eyes, And then, to dry them, gav'st the Duke a clout Steeped in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland-- His curses then, from bitterness of soul Denounced against thee, are all fall'n upon thee, And God, not we, hath plagued thy bloody deed. QUEEN ELIZABETH So just is God to right the innocent. HASTINGS O, 'twas the foulest deed to slay that babe, And the most merciless that e'er was heard of! RIVERS Tyrants themselves wept when it was reported. DORSET No man but prophesied revenge for it. BUCKINGHAM Northumberland, then present, wept to see it. QUEEN MARGARET What, were you snarling all before I came, Ready to catch each other by the throat, And turn you all your hatred now on me? Did York's dread curse prevail so much with heaven That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death, Their kingdom's loss, my woeful banishment, Should all but answer for that peevish brat? Can curses pierce the clouds and enter heaven? Why then, give way, dull clouds, to my quick curses! Though not by war, by surfeit die your king, As ours by murder to make him a king. [To Queen Elizabeth.] Edward thy son, that now is Prince of Wales, For Edward our son, that was Prince of Wales, Die in his youth by like untimely violence. Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen, Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self. Long mayst thou live to wail thy children's death And see another, as I see thee now, Decked in thy rights, as thou art stalled in mine. Long die thy happy days before thy death, And, after many lengthened hours of grief, Die neither mother, wife, nor England's queen.-- Rivers and Dorset, you were standers-by, And so wast thou, Lord Hastings, when my son Was stabbed with bloody daggers. God I pray Him That none of you may live his natural age, But by some unlooked accident cut off. RICHARD Have done thy charm, thou hateful, withered hag. QUEEN MARGARET And leave out thee? Stay, dog, for thou shalt hear me. If heaven have any grievous plague in store Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee, O, let them keep it till thy sins be ripe And then hurl down their indignation On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace. The worm of conscience still begnaw thy soul. Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou liv'st, And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends. No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine, Unless it be while some tormenting dream Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils. Thou elvish-marked, abortive, rooting hog, Thou that wast sealed in thy nativity The slave of nature and the son of hell, Thou slander of thy heavy mother's womb, Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins, Thou rag of honor, thou detested-- RICHARD Margaret. QUEEN MARGARET Richard! RICHARD Ha? QUEEN MARGARET I call thee not. RICHARD I cry thee mercy, then, for I did think That thou hadst called me all these bitter names. QUEEN MARGARET Why, so I did, but looked for no reply. O, let me make the period to my curse! RICHARD 'Tis done by me and ends in "Margaret." QUEEN ELIZABETH, [to Queen Margaret] Thus have you breathed your curse against yourself. QUEEN MARGARET Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my fortune, Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider, Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about? Fool, fool, thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself. The day will come that thou shalt wish for me To help thee curse this poisonous bunch-backed toad. HASTINGS False-boding woman, end thy frantic curse, Lest to thy harm thou move our patience. QUEEN MARGARET Foul shame upon you, you have all moved mine. RIVERS Were you well served, you would be taught your duty. QUEEN MARGARET To serve me well, you all should do me duty: Teach me to be your queen, and you my subjects. O, serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty! DORSET, [to Rivers] Dispute not with her; she is lunatic. QUEEN MARGARET Peace, Master Marquess, you are malapert. Your fire-new stamp of honor is scarce current. O, that your young nobility could judge What 'twere to lose it and be miserable! They that stand high have many blasts to shake them, And if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces. RICHARD Good counsel, marry.--Learn it, learn it, marquess. DORSET It touches you, my lord, as much as me. RICHARD Ay, and much more; but I was born so high. Our aerie buildeth in the cedar's top, And dallies with the wind and scorns the sun. QUEEN MARGARET And turns the sun to shade. Alas, alas, Witness my son, now in the shade of death, Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath Hath in eternal darkness folded up. Your aerie buildeth in our aerie's nest. O God, that seest it, do not suffer it! As it is won with blood, lost be it so. BUCKINGHAM Peace, peace, for shame, if not for charity. QUEEN MARGARET Urge neither charity nor shame to me. [Addressing the others.] Uncharitably with me have you dealt, And shamefully my hopes by you are butchered. My charity is outrage, life my shame, And in that shame still live my sorrows' rage. BUCKINGHAM Have done, have done. QUEEN MARGARET O princely Buckingham, I'll kiss thy hand In sign of league and amity with thee. Now fair befall thee and thy noble house! Thy garments are not spotted with our blood, Nor thou within the compass of my curse. BUCKINGHAM Nor no one here, for curses never pass The lips of those that breathe them in the air. QUEEN MARGARET I will not think but they ascend the sky, And there awake God's gentle sleeping peace. [Aside to Buckingham.] O Buckingham, take heed of yonder dog! Look when he fawns, he bites; and when he bites, His venom tooth will rankle to the death. Have not to do with him. Beware of him. Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on him, And all their ministers attend on him. RICHARD What doth she say, my lord of Buckingham? BUCKINGHAM Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord. QUEEN MARGARET What, dost thou scorn me for my gentle counsel, And soothe the devil that I warn thee from? O, but remember this another day, When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow, And say poor Margaret was a prophetess.-- Live each of you the subjects to his hate, And he to yours, and all of you to God's. [She exits.] BUCKINGHAM My hair doth stand an end to hear her curses. RIVERS And so doth mine. I muse why she's at liberty. RICHARD I cannot blame her. By God's holy mother, She hath had too much wrong, and I repent My part thereof that I have done to her. QUEEN ELIZABETH I never did her any, to my knowledge. RICHARD Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong. I was too hot to do somebody good That is too cold in thinking of it now. Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid; He is franked up to fatting for his pains. God pardon them that are the cause thereof. RIVERS A virtuous and a Christian-like conclusion To pray for them that have done scathe to us. RICHARD So do I ever--[(speaks to himself)] being well advised, For had I cursed now, I had cursed myself. [Enter Catesby.] CATESBY Madam, his Majesty doth call for you,-- And for your Grace,--and yours, my gracious lords. QUEEN ELIZABETH Catesby, I come.--Lords, will you go with me? RIVERS We wait upon your Grace. [All but Richard, Duke of Gloucester exit.] RICHARD I do the wrong and first begin to brawl. The secret mischiefs that I set abroach I lay unto the grievous charge of others. Clarence, who I indeed have cast in darkness, I do beweep to many simple gulls, Namely, to Derby, Hastings, Buckingham, And tell them 'tis the Queen and her allies That stir the King against the Duke my brother. Now they believe it and withal whet me To be revenged on Rivers, Dorset, Grey; But then I sigh and, with a piece of scripture, Tell them that God bids us do good for evil; And thus I clothe my naked villainy With odd old ends stol'n forth of Holy Writ, And seem a saint when most I play the devil. [Enter two Murderers.] But soft, here come my executioners.-- How now, my hardy, stout, resolved mates? Are you now going to dispatch this thing? MURDERER We are, my lord, and come to have the warrant That we may be admitted where he is. RICHARD Well thought upon. I have it here about me. [He gives a paper.] When you have done, repair to Crosby Place. But, sirs, be sudden in the execution, Withal obdurate; do not hear him plead, For Clarence is well-spoken and perhaps May move your hearts to pity if you mark him. MURDERER Tut, tut, my lord, we will not stand to prate. Talkers are no good doers. Be assured We go to use our hands and not our tongues. RICHARD Your eyes drop millstones when fools' eyes fall tears. I like you lads. About your business straight. Go, go, dispatch. MURDERERS We will, my noble lord. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Clarence and Keeper.] KEEPER Why looks your Grace so heavily today? CLARENCE O, I have passed a miserable night, So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, That, as I am a Christian faithful man, I would not spend another such a night Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days, So full of dismal terror was the time. KEEPER What was your dream, my lord? I pray you tell me. CLARENCE Methoughts that I had broken from the Tower And was embarked to cross to Burgundy, And in my company my brother Gloucester, Who from my cabin tempted me to walk Upon the hatches. Thence we looked toward England And cited up a thousand heavy times, During the wars of York and Lancaster, That had befall'n us. As we paced along Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, Methought that Gloucester stumbled, and in falling Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard Into the tumbling billows of the main. O Lord, methought what pain it was to drown, What dreadful noise of waters in my ears, What sights of ugly death within my eyes. Methoughts I saw a thousand fearful wracks, A thousand men that fishes gnawed upon, Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, All scattered in the bottom of the sea. Some lay in dead men's skulls, and in the holes Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept-- As 'twere in scorn of eyes--reflecting gems, That wooed the slimy bottom of the deep And mocked the dead bones that lay scattered by. KEEPER Had you such leisure in the time of death To gaze upon these secrets of the deep? CLARENCE Methought I had, and often did I strive To yield the ghost, but still the envious flood Stopped in my soul and would not let it forth To find the empty, vast, and wand'ring air, But smothered it within my panting bulk, Who almost burst to belch it in the sea. KEEPER Awaked you not in this sore agony? CLARENCE No, no, my dream was lengthened after life. O, then began the tempest to my soul. I passed, methought, the melancholy flood, With that sour ferryman which poets write of, Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. The first that there did greet my stranger-soul Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick, Who spake aloud "What scourge for perjury Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?" And so he vanished. Then came wand'ring by A shadow like an angel, with bright hair Dabbled in blood, and he shrieked out aloud "Clarence is come--false, fleeting, perjured Clarence, That stabbed me in the field by Tewkesbury. Seize on him, furies. Take him unto torment." With that, methoughts, a legion of foul fiends Environed me and howled in mine ears Such hideous cries that with the very noise I trembling waked, and for a season after Could not believe but that I was in hell, Such terrible impression made my dream. KEEPER No marvel, lord, though it affrighted you. I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it. CLARENCE Ah keeper, keeper, I have done these things, That now give evidence against my soul, For Edward's sake, and see how he requites me.-- O God, if my deep prayers cannot appease thee, But thou wilt be avenged on my misdeeds, Yet execute thy wrath in me alone! O, spare my guiltless wife and my poor children!-- Keeper, I prithee sit by me awhile. My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep. KEEPER I will, my lord. God give your Grace good rest. [Clarence sleeps.] [Enter Brakenbury the Lieutenant.] BRAKENBURY Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, Makes the night morning, and the noontide night. Princes have but their titles for their glories, An outward honor for an inward toil, And, for unfelt imaginations, They often feel a world of restless cares, So that between their titles and low name There's nothing differs but the outward fame. [Enter two Murderers.] FIRST MURDERER Ho, who's here? BRAKENBURY What wouldst thou, fellow? And how cam'st thou hither? SECOND MURDERER I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs. BRAKENBURY What, so brief? FIRST MURDERER 'Tis better, sir, than to be tedious.-- Let him see our commission, and talk no more. [Brakenbury reads the commission.] BRAKENBURY I am in this commanded to deliver The noble Duke of Clarence to your hands. I will not reason what is meant hereby Because I will be guiltless from the meaning. There lies the Duke asleep, and there the keys. [He hands them keys.] I'll to the King and signify to him That thus I have resigned to you my charge. FIRST MURDERER You may, sir. 'Tis a point of wisdom. Fare you well. [Brakenbury and the Keeper exit.] SECOND MURDERER What, shall I stab him as he sleeps? FIRST MURDERER No. He'll say 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes. SECOND MURDERER Why, he shall never wake until the great Judgment Day. FIRST MURDERER Why, then he'll say we stabbed him sleeping. SECOND MURDERER The urging of that word "judgment" hath bred a kind of remorse in me. FIRST MURDERER What, art thou afraid? SECOND MURDERER Not to kill him, having a warrant, but to be damned for killing him, from the which no warrant can defend me. FIRST MURDERER I thought thou hadst been resolute. SECOND MURDERER So I am--to let him live. FIRST MURDERER I'll back to the Duke of Gloucester and tell him so. SECOND MURDERER Nay, I prithee stay a little. I hope this passionate humor of mine will change. It was wont to hold me but while one tells twenty. FIRST MURDERER How dost thou feel thyself now? SECOND MURDERER Faith, some certain dregs of conscience are yet within me. FIRST MURDERER Remember our reward when the deed's done. SECOND MURDERER Zounds, he dies! I had forgot the reward. FIRST MURDERER Where's thy conscience now? SECOND MURDERER O, in the Duke of Gloucester's purse. FIRST MURDERER When he opens his purse to give us our reward, thy conscience flies out. SECOND MURDERER 'Tis no matter. Let it go. There's few or none will entertain it. FIRST MURDERER What if it come to thee again? SECOND MURDERER I'll not meddle with it. It makes a man a coward: a man cannot steal but it accuseth him; a man cannot swear but it checks him; a man cannot lie with his neighbor's wife but it detects him. 'Tis a blushing, shamefaced spirit that mutinies in a man's bosom. It fills a man full of obstacles. It made me once restore a purse of gold that by chance I found. It beggars any man that keeps it. It is turned out of towns and cities for a dangerous thing, and every man that means to live well endeavors to trust to himself and live without it. FIRST MURDERER Zounds, 'tis even now at my elbow, persuading me not to kill the Duke. SECOND MURDERER Take the devil in thy mind, and believe him not. He would insinuate with thee but to make thee sigh. FIRST MURDERER I am strong-framed. He cannot prevail with me. SECOND MURDERER Spoke like a tall man that respects thy reputation. Come, shall we fall to work? FIRST MURDERER Take him on the costard with the hilts of thy sword, and then throw him into the malmsey butt in the next room. SECOND MURDERER O, excellent device--and make a sop of him! FIRST MURDERER Soft, he wakes. SECOND MURDERER Strike! FIRST MURDERER No, we'll reason with him. [Clarence wakes.] CLARENCE Where art thou, keeper? Give me a cup of wine. SECOND MURDERER You shall have wine enough, my lord, anon. CLARENCE In God's name, what art thou? FIRST MURDERER A man, as you are. CLARENCE But not, as I am, royal. FIRST MURDERER Nor you, as we are, loyal. CLARENCE Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble. FIRST MURDERER My voice is now the King's, my looks mine own. CLARENCE How darkly and how deadly dost thou speak! Your eyes do menace me. Why look you pale? Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come? SECOND MURDERER To, to, to-- CLARENCE To murder me? BOTH Ay, ay. CLARENCE You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it. Wherein, my friends, have I offended you? FIRST MURDERER Offended us you have not, but the King. CLARENCE I shall be reconciled to him again. SECOND MURDERER Never, my lord. Therefore prepare to die. CLARENCE Are you drawn forth among a world of men To slay the innocent? What is my offense? Where is the evidence that doth accuse me? What lawful quest have given their verdict up Unto the frowning judge? Or who pronounced The bitter sentence of poor Clarence' death Before I be convict by course of law? To threaten me with death is most unlawful. I charge you, as you hope to have redemption, By Christ's dear blood shed for our grievous sins, That you depart, and lay no hands on me. The deed you undertake is damnable. FIRST MURDERER What we will do, we do upon command. SECOND MURDERER And he that hath commanded is our king. CLARENCE Erroneous vassals, the great King of kings Hath in the table of His law commanded That thou shalt do no murder. Will you then Spurn at His edict and fulfill a man's? Take heed, for He holds vengeance in His hand To hurl upon their heads that break His law. SECOND MURDERER And that same vengeance doth He hurl on thee For false forswearing and for murder too. Thou didst receive the sacrament to fight In quarrel of the House of Lancaster. FIRST MURDERER And, like a traitor to the name of God, Didst break that vow, and with thy treacherous blade Unrippedst the bowels of thy sovereign's son. SECOND MURDERER Whom thou wast sworn to cherish and defend. FIRST MURDERER How canst thou urge God's dreadful law to us When thou hast broke it in such dear degree? CLARENCE Alas! For whose sake did I that ill deed? For Edward, for my brother, for his sake. He sends you not to murder me for this, For in that sin he is as deep as I. If God will be avenged for the deed, O, know you yet He doth it publicly! Take not the quarrel from His powerful arm; He needs no indirect or lawless course To cut off those that have offended Him. FIRST MURDERER Who made thee then a bloody minister When gallant-springing, brave Plantagenet, That princely novice, was struck dead by thee? CLARENCE My brother's love, the devil, and my rage. FIRST MURDERER Thy brother's love, our duty, and thy faults Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee. CLARENCE If you do love my brother, hate not me. I am his brother, and I love him well. If you are hired for meed, go back again, And I will send you to my brother Gloucester, Who shall reward you better for my life Than Edward will for tidings of my death. SECOND MURDERER You are deceived. Your brother Gloucester hates you. CLARENCE O no, he loves me, and he holds me dear. Go you to him from me. FIRST MURDERER Ay, so we will. CLARENCE Tell him, when that our princely father York Blessed his three sons with his victorious arm, He little thought of this divided friendship. Bid Gloucester think of this, and he will weep. FIRST MURDERER Ay, millstones, as he lessoned us to weep. CLARENCE O, do not slander him, for he is kind. FIRST MURDERER Right, as snow in harvest. Come, you deceive yourself. 'Tis he that sends us to destroy you here. CLARENCE It cannot be, for he bewept my fortune, And hugged me in his arms, and swore with sobs That he would labor my delivery. FIRST MURDERER Why, so he doth, when he delivers you From this Earth's thralldom to the joys of heaven. SECOND MURDERER Make peace with God, for you must die, my lord. CLARENCE Have you that holy feeling in your souls To counsel me to make my peace with God, And are you yet to your own souls so blind That you will war with God by murd'ring me? O sirs, consider: they that set you on To do this deed will hate you for the deed. SECOND MURDERER, [to First Murderer] What shall we do? CLARENCE Relent, and save your souls. Which of you--if you were a prince's son Being pent from liberty, as I am now-- If two such murderers as yourselves came to you, Would not entreat for life? Ay, you would beg, Were you in my distress. FIRST MURDERER Relent? No. 'Tis cowardly and womanish. CLARENCE Not to relent is beastly, savage, devilish. [To Second Murderer.] My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks. O, if thine eye be not a flatterer, Come thou on my side and entreat for me. A begging prince what beggar pities not? SECOND MURDERER Look behind you, my lord. FIRST MURDERER Take that, and that. [(Stabs him.)] If all this will not do, I'll drown you in the malmsey butt within. [He exits with the body.] SECOND MURDERER A bloody deed, and desperately dispatched. How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands Of this most grievous murder. [Enter First Murderer.] FIRST MURDERER How now? What mean'st thou that thou help'st me not? By heavens, the Duke shall know how slack you have been. SECOND MURDERER I would he knew that I had saved his brother. Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say, For I repent me that the Duke is slain. [He exits.] FIRST MURDERER So do not I. Go, coward as thou art. Well, I'll go hide the body in some hole Till that the Duke give order for his burial. And when I have my meed, I will away, For this will out, and then I must not stay. [He exits.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Flourish. Enter King Edward, sick, Queen Elizabeth, Lord Marquess Dorset, Rivers, Hastings, Buckingham, Woodeville, Grey, and Scales.] KING EDWARD Why, so. Now have I done a good day's work. You peers, continue this united league. I every day expect an embassage From my Redeemer to redeem me hence, And more in peace my soul shall part to heaven Since I have made my friends at peace on Earth. Rivers and Hastings, take each other's hand. Dissemble not your hatred. Swear your love. RIVERS, [taking Hastings' hand] By heaven, my soul is purged from grudging hate, And with my hand I seal my true heart's love. HASTINGS So thrive I as I truly swear the like. KING EDWARD Take heed you dally not before your king, Lest He that is the supreme King of kings Confound your hidden falsehood and award Either of you to be the other's end. HASTINGS So prosper I as I swear perfect love. RIVERS And I as I love Hastings with my heart. KING EDWARD, [to Queen Elizabeth] Madam, yourself is not exempt from this,-- Nor you, son Dorset,--Buckingham, nor you. You have been factious one against the other.-- Wife, love Lord Hastings. Let him kiss your hand, And what you do, do it unfeignedly. QUEEN ELIZABETH There, Hastings, I will never more remember Our former hatred, so thrive I and mine. [Hastings kisses her hand.] KING EDWARD Dorset, embrace him.--Hastings, love Lord Marquess. DORSET This interchange of love, I here protest, Upon my part shall be inviolable. HASTINGS And so swear I. [They embrace.] KING EDWARD Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this league With thy embracements to my wife's allies And make me happy in your unity. BUCKINGHAM, [to Queen Elizabeth] Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate Upon your Grace, but with all duteous love Doth cherish you and yours, God punish me With hate in those where I expect most love. When I have most need to employ a friend, And most assured that he is a friend, Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile Be he unto me: this do I beg of God, When I am cold in love to you or yours. [Queen Elizabeth and Buckingham embrace.] KING EDWARD A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham, Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart. There wanteth now our brother Gloucester here To make the blessed period of this peace. BUCKINGHAM And in good time Here comes Sir Richard Ratcliffe and the Duke. [Enter Ratcliffe, and Richard, Duke of Gloucester.] RICHARD Good morrow to my sovereign king and queen, And, princely peers, a happy time of day. KING EDWARD Happy indeed, as we have spent the day. Gloucester, we have done deeds of charity, Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate, Between these swelling, wrong-incensed peers. RICHARD A blessed labor, my most sovereign lord. Among this princely heap, if any here By false intelligence or wrong surmise Hold me a foe, If I unwittingly, or in my rage, Have aught committed that is hardly borne By any in this presence, I desire To reconcile me to his friendly peace. 'Tis death to me to be at enmity; I hate it, and desire all good men's love. First, madam, I entreat true peace of you, Which I will purchase with my duteous service;-- Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham, If ever any grudge were lodged between us;-- Of you and you, Lord Rivers and of Dorset, That all without desert have frowned on me;-- Of you, Lord Woodeville and Lord Scales;--of you, Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen; indeed, of all. I do not know that Englishman alive With whom my soul is any jot at odds More than the infant that is born tonight. I thank my God for my humility. QUEEN ELIZABETH A holy day shall this be kept hereafter. I would to God all strifes were well compounded. My sovereign lord, I do beseech your Highness To take our brother Clarence to your grace. RICHARD Why, madam, have I offered love for this, To be so flouted in this royal presence? Who knows not that the gentle duke is dead? [They all start.] You do him injury to scorn his corse. KING EDWARD Who knows not he is dead! Who knows he is? QUEEN ELIZABETH All-seeing heaven, what a world is this! BUCKINGHAM Look I so pale, Lord Dorset, as the rest? DORSET Ay, my good lord, and no man in the presence But his red color hath forsook his cheeks. KING EDWARD Is Clarence dead? The order was reversed. RICHARD But he, poor man, by your first order died, And that a winged Mercury did bear. Some tardy cripple bare the countermand, That came too lag to see him buried. God grant that some, less noble and less loyal, Nearer in bloody thoughts, and not in blood, Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did, And yet go current from suspicion. [Enter Lord Stanley, Earl of Derby.] STANLEY, [kneeling] A boon, my sovereign, for my service done. KING EDWARD I prithee, peace. My soul is full of sorrow. STANLEY I will not rise unless your Highness hear me. KING EDWARD Then say at once what is it thou requests. STANLEY The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life, Who slew today a riotous gentleman Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk. KING EDWARD Have I a tongue to doom my brother's death, And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave? My brother killed no man; his fault was thought, And yet his punishment was bitter death. Who sued to me for him? Who, in my wrath, Kneeled at my feet, and bade me be advised? Who spoke of brotherhood? Who spoke of love? Who told me how the poor soul did forsake The mighty Warwick and did fight for me? Who told me, in the field at Tewkesbury, When Oxford had me down, he rescued me, And said "Dear brother, live, and be a king"? Who told me, when we both lay in the field Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me Even in his garments and did give himself, All thin and naked, to the numb-cold night? All this from my remembrance brutish wrath Sinfully plucked, and not a man of you Had so much grace to put it in my mind. But when your carters or your waiting vassals Have done a drunken slaughter and defaced The precious image of our dear Redeemer, You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon, And I, unjustly too, must grant it you. [Stanley rises.] But for my brother, not a man would speak, Nor I, ungracious, speak unto myself For him, poor soul. The proudest of you all Have been beholding to him in his life, Yet none of you would once beg for his life. O God, I fear Thy justice will take hold On me and you, and mine and yours for this!-- Come, Hastings, help me to my closet.-- Ah, poor Clarence. [Some exit with King and Queen.] RICHARD This is the fruits of rashness. Marked you not How that the guilty kindred of the Queen Looked pale when they did hear of Clarence' death? O, they did urge it still unto the King. God will revenge it. Come, lords, will you go To comfort Edward with our company? BUCKINGHAM We wait upon your Grace. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter the old Duchess of York with the two children of Clarence.] BOY Good grandam, tell us, is our father dead? DUCHESS No, boy. DAUGHTER Why do you weep so oft, and beat your breast, And cry "O Clarence, my unhappy son"? BOY Why do you look on us and shake your head, And call us orphans, wretches, castaways, If that our noble father were alive? DUCHESS My pretty cousins, you mistake me both. I do lament the sickness of the King, As loath to lose him, not your father's death. It were lost sorrow to wail one that's lost. BOY Then, you conclude, my grandam, he is dead. The King mine uncle is to blame for it. God will revenge it, whom I will importune With earnest prayers, all to that effect. DAUGHTER And so will I. DUCHESS Peace, children, peace. The King doth love you well. Incapable and shallow innocents, You cannot guess who caused your father's death. BOY Grandam, we can, for my good uncle Gloucester Told me the King, provoked to it by the Queen, Devised impeachments to imprison him; And when my uncle told me so, he wept, And pitied me, and kindly kissed my cheek, Bade me rely on him as on my father, And he would love me dearly as a child. DUCHESS Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle shape, And with a virtuous visor hide deep vice. He is my son, ay, and therein my shame, Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit. BOY Think you my uncle did dissemble, grandam? DUCHESS Ay, boy. BOY I cannot think it. Hark, what noise is this? [Enter Queen Elizabeth with her hair about her ears, Rivers and Dorset after her.] QUEEN ELIZABETH Ah, who shall hinder me to wail and weep, To chide my fortune and torment myself? I'll join with black despair against my soul And to myself become an enemy. DUCHESS What means this scene of rude impatience? QUEEN ELIZABETH To make an act of tragic violence. Edward, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead. Why grow the branches when the root is gone? Why wither not the leaves that want their sap? If you will live, lament. If die, be brief, That our swift-winged souls may catch the King's, Or, like obedient subjects, follow him To his new kingdom of ne'er-changing night. DUCHESS Ah, so much interest have I in thy sorrow As I had title in thy noble husband. I have bewept a worthy husband's death And lived with looking on his images; But now two mirrors of his princely semblance Are cracked in pieces by malignant death, And I, for comfort, have but one false glass That grieves me when I see my shame in him. Thou art a widow, yet thou art a mother, And hast the comfort of thy children left, But death hath snatched my husband from mine arms And plucked two crutches from my feeble hands, Clarence and Edward. O, what cause have I, Thine being but a moiety of my moan, To overgo thy woes and drown thy cries! BOY, [to Queen Elizabeth] Ah, aunt, you wept not for our father's death. How can we aid you with our kindred tears? DAUGHTER, [to Queen Elizabeth] Our fatherless distress was left unmoaned. Your widow-dolor likewise be unwept! QUEEN ELIZABETH Give me no help in lamentation. I am not barren to bring forth complaints. All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes, That I, being governed by the watery moon, May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world. Ah, for my husband, for my dear lord Edward! CHILDREN Ah, for our father, for our dear lord Clarence! DUCHESS Alas for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence! QUEEN ELIZABETH What stay had I but Edward? And he's gone. CHILDREN What stay had we but Clarence? And he's gone. DUCHESS What stays had I but they? And they are gone. QUEEN ELIZABETH Was never widow had so dear a loss. CHILDREN Were never orphans had so dear a loss. DUCHESS Was never mother had so dear a loss. Alas, I am the mother of these griefs. Their woes are parceled; mine is general. She for an Edward weeps, and so do I; I for a Clarence weep; so doth not she. These babes for Clarence weep, and so do I; I for an Edward weep; so do not they. Alas, you three, on me, threefold distressed, Pour all your tears. I am your sorrow's nurse, And I will pamper it with lamentation. DORSET, [to Queen Elizabeth] Comfort, dear mother. God is much displeased That you take with unthankfulness His doing. In common worldly things, 'tis called ungrateful With dull unwillingness to repay a debt Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent; Much more to be thus opposite with heaven, For it requires the royal debt it lent you. RIVERS Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother, Of the young prince your son. Send straight for him. Let him be crowned. In him your comfort lives. Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave And plant your joys in living Edward's throne. [Enter Richard, Duke of Gloucester, Buckingham, Lord Stanley, Earl of Derby, Hastings, and Ratcliffe.] RICHARD, [to Queen Elizabeth] Sister, have comfort. All of us have cause To wail the dimming of our shining star, But none can help our harms by wailing them.-- Madam my mother, I do cry you mercy; I did not see your Grace. Humbly on my knee I crave your blessing. [He kneels.] DUCHESS God bless thee, and put meekness in thy breast, Love, charity, obedience, and true duty. RICHARD, [standing] Amen. [Aside.] And make me die a good old man! That is the butt end of a mother's blessing; I marvel that her Grace did leave it out. BUCKINGHAM You cloudy princes and heart-sorrowing peers That bear this heavy mutual load of moan, Now cheer each other in each other's love. Though we have spent our harvest of this king, We are to reap the harvest of his son. The broken rancor of your high-swoll'n hates, But lately splintered, knit, and joined together, Must gently be preserved, cherished, and kept. Meseemeth good that with some little train Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fet Hither to London, to be crowned our king. RIVERS Why "with some little train," my lord of Buckingham? BUCKINGHAM Marry, my lord, lest by a multitude The new-healed wound of malice should break out, Which would be so much the more dangerous By how much the estate is green and yet ungoverned. Where every horse bears his commanding rein And may direct his course as please himself, As well the fear of harm as harm apparent, In my opinion, ought to be prevented. RICHARD I hope the King made peace with all of us; And the compact is firm and true in me. RIVERS And so in me, and so, I think, in all. Yet since it is but green, it should be put To no apparent likelihood of breach, Which haply by much company might be urged. Therefore I say with noble Buckingham That it is meet so few should fetch the Prince. HASTINGS And so say I. RICHARD Then be it so, and go we to determine Who they shall be that straight shall post to Ludlow.-- Madam, and you, my sister, will you go To give your censures in this business? [All but Buckingham and Richard exit.] BUCKINGHAM My lord, whoever journeys to the Prince, For God's sake let not us two stay at home. For by the way I'll sort occasion, As index to the story we late talked of, To part the Queen's proud kindred from the Prince. RICHARD My other self, my council's consistory, My oracle, my prophet, my dear cousin, I, as a child, will go by thy direction. Toward Ludlow then, for we'll not stay behind. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter one Citizen at one door, and another at the other.] FIRST CITIZEN Good morrow, neighbor, whither away so fast? SECOND CITIZEN I promise you I scarcely know myself. Hear you the news abroad? FIRST CITIZEN Yes, that the King is dead. SECOND CITIZEN Ill news, by 'r Lady. Seldom comes the better. I fear, I fear, 'twill prove a giddy world. [Enter another Citizen.] THIRD CITIZEN Neighbors, God speed. FIRST CITIZEN Give you good morrow, sir. THIRD CITIZEN Doth the news hold of good King Edward's death? SECOND CITIZEN Ay, sir, it is too true, God help the while. THIRD CITIZEN Then, masters, look to see a troublous world. FIRST CITIZEN No, no, by God's good grace, his son shall reign. THIRD CITIZEN Woe to that land that's governed by a child. SECOND CITIZEN In him there is a hope of government, Which, in his nonage, council under him, And, in his full and ripened years, himself, No doubt shall then, and till then, govern well. FIRST CITIZEN So stood the state when Henry the Sixth Was crowned in Paris but at nine months old. THIRD CITIZEN Stood the state so? No, no, good friends, God wot, For then this land was famously enriched With politic grave counsel; then the King Had virtuous uncles to protect his Grace. FIRST CITIZEN Why, so hath this, both by his father and mother. THIRD CITIZEN Better it were they all came by his father, Or by his father there were none at all, For emulation who shall now be nearest Will touch us all too near if God prevent not. O, full of danger is the Duke of Gloucester, And the Queen's sons and brothers haught and proud, And were they to be ruled, and not to rule, This sickly land might solace as before. FIRST CITIZEN Come, come, we fear the worst. All will be well. THIRD CITIZEN When clouds are seen, wise men put on their cloaks; When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand; When the sun sets, who doth not look for night? Untimely storms makes men expect a dearth. All may be well; but if God sort it so, 'Tis more than we deserve or I expect. SECOND CITIZEN Truly, the hearts of men are full of fear. You cannot reason almost with a man That looks not heavily and full of dread. THIRD CITIZEN Before the days of change, still is it so. By a divine instinct, men's minds mistrust Ensuing danger, as by proof we see The water swell before a boist'rous storm. But leave it all to God. Whither away? SECOND CITIZEN Marry, we were sent for to the Justices. THIRD CITIZEN And so was I. I'll bear you company. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Archbishop, the young Duke of York, Queen Elizabeth, and the Duchess of York.] ARCHBISHOP Last night, I hear, they lay at Stony Stratford, And at Northampton they do rest tonight. Tomorrow or next day they will be here. DUCHESS I long with all my heart to see the Prince. I hope he is much grown since last I saw him. QUEEN ELIZABETH But I hear no; they say my son of York Has almost overta'en him in his growth. YORK Ay, mother, but I would not have it so. DUCHESS Why, my good cousin? It is good to grow. YORK Grandam, one night as we did sit at supper, My uncle Rivers talked how I did grow More than my brother. "Ay," quoth my uncle Gloucester, "Small herbs have grace; great weeds do grow apace." And since, methinks I would not grow so fast Because sweet flowers are slow and weeds make haste. DUCHESS Good faith, good faith, the saying did not hold In him that did object the same to thee! He was the wretched'st thing when he was young, So long a-growing and so leisurely, That if his rule were true, he should be gracious. YORK And so no doubt he is, my gracious madam. DUCHESS I hope he is, but yet let mothers doubt. YORK Now, by my troth, if I had been remembered, I could have given my uncle's Grace a flout To touch his growth nearer than he touched mine. DUCHESS How, my young York? I prithee let me hear it. YORK Marry, they say my uncle grew so fast That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old. 'Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth. Grandam, this would have been a biting jest. DUCHESS I prithee, pretty York, who told thee this? YORK Grandam, his nurse. DUCHESS His nurse? Why, she was dead ere thou wast born. YORK If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me. QUEEN ELIZABETH A parlous boy! Go to, you are too shrewd. DUCHESS Good madam, be not angry with the child. QUEEN ELIZABETH Pitchers have ears. [Enter a Messenger.] ARCHBISHOP Here comes a messenger.--What news? MESSENGER Such news, my lord, as grieves me to report. QUEEN ELIZABETH How doth the Prince? MESSENGER Well, madam, and in health. DUCHESS What is thy news? MESSENGER Lord Rivers and Lord Grey are sent to Pomfret, And, with them, Sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners. DUCHESS Who hath committed them? MESSENGER The mighty dukes, Gloucester and Buckingham. ARCHBISHOP For what offense? MESSENGER The sum of all I can, I have disclosed. Why, or for what, the nobles were committed Is all unknown to me, my gracious lord. QUEEN ELIZABETH Ay me! I see the ruin of my house. The tiger now hath seized the gentle hind. Insulting tyranny begins to jut Upon the innocent and aweless throne. Welcome, destruction, blood, and massacre. I see, as in a map, the end of all. DUCHESS Accursed and unquiet wrangling days, How many of you have mine eyes beheld? My husband lost his life to get the crown, And often up and down my sons were tossed For me to joy, and weep, their gain and loss. And being seated, and domestic broils Clean overblown, themselves the conquerors Make war upon themselves, brother to brother, Blood to blood, self against self. O, preposterous And frantic outrage, end thy damned spleen, Or let me die, to look on Earth no more. QUEEN ELIZABETH, [to York] Come, come, my boy. We will to sanctuary.-- Madam, farewell. DUCHESS Stay, I will go with you. QUEEN ELIZABETH You have no cause. ARCHBISHOP, [to Queen Elizabeth] My gracious lady, go, And thither bear your treasure and your goods. For my part, I'll resign unto your Grace The seal I keep; and so betide to me As well I tender you and all of yours. Go. I'll conduct you to the sanctuary. [They exit.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [The trumpets sound. Enter young Prince Edward, Richard Duke of Gloucester, Buckingham, the Cardinal, Catesby, and others.] BUCKINGHAM Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to your chamber. RICHARD, [to Prince] Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' sovereign. The weary way hath made you melancholy. PRINCE No, uncle, but our crosses on the way Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy. I want more uncles here to welcome me. RICHARD Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your years Hath not yet dived into the world's deceit; Nor more can you distinguish of a man Than of his outward show, which, God He knows, Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart. Those uncles which you want were dangerous. Your Grace attended to their sugared words But looked not on the poison of their hearts. God keep you from them, and from such false friends. PRINCE God keep me from false friends, but they were none. RICHARD My lord, the Mayor of London comes to greet you. [Enter Lord Mayor with others.] MAYOR God bless your Grace with health and happy days. PRINCE I thank you, good my lord, and thank you all.-- I thought my mother and my brother York Would long ere this have met us on the way. Fie, what a slug is Hastings that he comes not To tell us whether they will come or no! [Enter Lord Hastings.] BUCKINGHAM And in good time here comes the sweating lord. PRINCE Welcome, my lord. What, will our mother come? HASTINGS On what occasion God He knows, not I, The Queen your mother and your brother York Have taken sanctuary. The tender prince Would fain have come with me to meet your Grace, But by his mother was perforce withheld. BUCKINGHAM Fie, what an indirect and peevish course Is this of hers!--Lord Cardinal, will your Grace Persuade the Queen to send the Duke of York Unto his princely brother presently?-- If she deny, Lord Hastings, go with him, And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce. CARDINAL My lord of Buckingham, if my weak oratory Can from his mother win the Duke of York, Anon expect him here; but if she be obdurate To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid We should infringe the holy privilege Of blessed sanctuary! Not for all this land Would I be guilty of so deep a sin. BUCKINGHAM You are too senseless obstinate, my lord, Too ceremonious and traditional. Weigh it but with the grossness of this age, You break not sanctuary in seizing him. The benefit thereof is always granted To those whose dealings have deserved the place And those who have the wit to claim the place. This prince hath neither claimed it nor deserved it And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it. Then taking him from thence that is not there, You break no privilege nor charter there. Oft have I heard of sanctuary men, But sanctuary children, never till now. CARDINAL My lord, you shall o'errule my mind for once.-- Come on, Lord Hastings, will you go with me? HASTINGS I go, my lord. PRINCE Good lords, make all the speedy haste you may. [The Cardinal and Hastings exit.] Say, uncle Gloucester, if our brother come, Where shall we sojourn till our coronation? RICHARD Where it seems best unto your royal self. If I may counsel you, some day or two Your Highness shall repose you at the Tower; Then where you please and shall be thought most fit For your best health and recreation. PRINCE I do not like the Tower, of any place.-- Did Julius Caesar build that place, my lord? BUCKINGHAM He did, my gracious lord, begin that place, Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified. PRINCE Is it upon record, or else reported Successively from age to age, he built it? BUCKINGHAM Upon record, my gracious lord. PRINCE But say, my lord, it were not registered, Methinks the truth should live from age to age, As 'twere retailed to all posterity, Even to the general all-ending day. RICHARD, [aside] So wise so young, they say, do never live long. PRINCE What say you, uncle? RICHARD I say, without characters fame lives long. [Aside.] Thus, like the formal Vice, Iniquity, I moralize two meanings in one word. PRINCE That Julius Caesar was a famous man. With what his valor did enrich his wit, His wit set down to make his valor live. Death makes no conquest of this conqueror, For now he lives in fame, though not in life. I'll tell you what, my cousin Buckingham-- BUCKINGHAM What, my gracious lord? PRINCE An if I live until I be a man, I'll win our ancient right in France again Or die a soldier, as I lived a king. RICHARD, [aside] Short summers lightly have a forward spring. [Enter young Duke of York, Hastings, and the Cardinal.] BUCKINGHAM Now in good time here comes the Duke of York. PRINCE Richard of York, how fares our loving brother? YORK Well, my dread lord--so must I call you now. PRINCE Ay, brother, to our grief, as it is yours. Too late he died that might have kept that title, Which by his death hath lost much majesty. RICHARD How fares our cousin, noble lord of York? YORK I thank you, gentle uncle. O my lord, You said that idle weeds are fast in growth. The Prince my brother hath outgrown me far. RICHARD He hath, my lord. YORK And therefore is he idle? RICHARD O my fair cousin, I must not say so. YORK Then he is more beholding to you than I. RICHARD He may command me as my sovereign, But you have power in me as in a kinsman. YORK I pray you, uncle, give me this dagger. RICHARD My dagger, little cousin? With all my heart. PRINCE A beggar, brother? YORK Of my kind uncle, that I know will give, And being but a toy, which is no grief to give. RICHARD A greater gift than that I'll give my cousin. YORK A greater gift? O, that's the sword to it. RICHARD Ay, gentle cousin, were it light enough. YORK O, then I see you will part but with light gifts. In weightier things you'll say a beggar nay. RICHARD It is too heavy for your Grace to wear. YORK I weigh it lightly, were it heavier. RICHARD What, would you have my weapon, little lord? YORK I would, that I might thank you as you call me. RICHARD How? YORK Little. PRINCE My lord of York will still be cross in talk. Uncle, your Grace knows how to bear with him. YORK You mean, to bear me, not to bear with me.-- Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me. Because that I am little, like an ape, He thinks that you should bear me on your shoulders. BUCKINGHAM, [aside] With what a sharp-provided wit he reasons! To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle, He prettily and aptly taunts himself. So cunning and so young is wonderful. RICHARD, [to Prince] My lord, will 't please you pass along? Myself and my good cousin Buckingham Will to your mother, to entreat of her To meet you at the Tower and welcome you. YORK, [to Prince] What, will you go unto the Tower, my lord? PRINCE My Lord Protector needs will have it so. YORK I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower. RICHARD Why, what should you fear? YORK Marry, my uncle Clarence' angry ghost. My grandam told me he was murdered there. PRINCE I fear no uncles dead. RICHARD Nor none that live, I hope. PRINCE An if they live, I hope I need not fear. [To York.] But come, my lord. With a heavy heart, Thinking on them, go I unto the Tower. [A sennet. Prince Edward, the Duke of York, and Hastings exit. Richard, Buckingham, and Catesby remain.] BUCKINGHAM, [to Richard] Think you, my lord, this little prating York Was not incensed by his subtle mother To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously? RICHARD No doubt, no doubt. O, 'tis a parlous boy, Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable. He is all the mother's, from the top to toe. BUCKINGHAM Well, let them rest.--Come hither, Catesby. Thou art sworn as deeply to effect what we intend As closely to conceal what we impart. Thou knowest our reasons, urged upon the way. What thinkest thou? Is it not an easy matter To make William Lord Hastings of our mind For the installment of this noble duke In the seat royal of this famous isle? CATESBY He, for his father's sake, so loves the Prince That he will not be won to aught against him. BUCKINGHAM What think'st thou then of Stanley? Will not he? CATESBY He will do all in all as Hastings doth. BUCKINGHAM Well then, no more but this: go, gentle Catesby, And, as it were far off, sound thou Lord Hastings How he doth stand affected to our purpose And summon him tomorrow to the Tower To sit about the coronation. If thou dost find him tractable to us, Encourage him and tell him all our reasons. If he be leaden, icy, cold, unwilling, Be thou so too, and so break off the talk, And give us notice of his inclination; For we tomorrow hold divided councils, Wherein thyself shalt highly be employed. RICHARD Commend me to Lord William. Tell him, Catesby, His ancient knot of dangerous adversaries Tomorrow are let blood at Pomfret Castle, And bid my lord, for joy of this good news, Give Mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more. BUCKINGHAM Good Catesby, go effect this business soundly. CATESBY My good lords both, with all the heed I can. RICHARD Shall we hear from you, Catesby, ere we sleep? CATESBY You shall, my lord. RICHARD At Crosby House, there shall you find us both. [Catesby exits.] BUCKINGHAM Now, my lord, what shall we do if we perceive Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots? RICHARD Chop off his head. Something we will determine. And look when I am king, claim thou of me The earldom of Hereford, and all the movables Whereof the King my brother was possessed. BUCKINGHAM I'll claim that promise at your Grace's hand. RICHARD And look to have it yielded with all kindness. Come, let us sup betimes, that afterwards We may digest our complots in some form. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter a Messenger to the door of Hastings.] MESSENGER, [knocking] My lord, my lord. HASTINGS, [within] Who knocks? MESSENGER One from the Lord Stanley. HASTINGS, [within] What is 't o'clock? MESSENGER Upon the stroke of four. [Enter Lord Hastings.] HASTINGS Cannot my Lord Stanley sleep these tedious nights? MESSENGER So it appears by that I have to say. First, he commends him to your noble self. HASTINGS What then? MESSENGER Then certifies your Lordship that this night He dreamt the boar had razed off his helm. Besides, he says there are two councils kept, And that may be determined at the one Which may make you and him to rue at th' other. Therefore he sends to know your Lordship's pleasure, If you will presently take horse with him And with all speed post with him toward the north To shun the danger that his soul divines. HASTINGS Go, fellow, go. Return unto thy lord. Bid him not fear the separated council. His Honor and myself are at the one, And at the other is my good friend Catesby, Where nothing can proceed that toucheth us Whereof I shall not have intelligence. Tell him his fears are shallow, without instance. And for his dreams, I wonder he's so simple To trust the mock'ry of unquiet slumbers. To fly the boar before the boar pursues Were to incense the boar to follow us And make pursuit where he did mean no chase. Go, bid thy master rise and come to me, And we will both together to the Tower, Where he shall see the boar will use us kindly. MESSENGER I'll go, my lord, and tell him what you say. [He exits.] [Enter Catesby.] CATESBY Many good morrows to my noble lord. HASTINGS Good morrow, Catesby. You are early stirring. What news, what news in this our tott'ring state? CATESBY It is a reeling world indeed, my lord, And I believe will never stand upright Till Richard wear the garland of the realm. HASTINGS How "wear the garland"? Dost thou mean the crown? CATESBY Ay, my good lord. HASTINGS I'll have this crown of mine cut from my shoulders Before I'll see the crown so foul misplaced. But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it? CATESBY Ay, on my life, and hopes to find you forward Upon his party for the gain thereof; And thereupon he sends you this good news, That this same very day your enemies, The kindred of the Queen, must die at Pomfret. HASTINGS Indeed, I am no mourner for that news, Because they have been still my adversaries. But that I'll give my voice on Richard's side To bar my master's heirs in true descent, God knows I will not do it, to the death. CATESBY God keep your Lordship in that gracious mind. HASTINGS But I shall laugh at this a twelve-month hence, That they which brought me in my master's hate, I live to look upon their tragedy. Well, Catesby, ere a fortnight make me older I'll send some packing that yet think not on 't. CATESBY 'Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord, When men are unprepared and look not for it. HASTINGS O monstrous, monstrous! And so falls it out With Rivers, Vaughan, Grey; and so 'twill do With some men else that think themselves as safe As thou and I, who, as thou know'st, are dear To princely Richard and to Buckingham. CATESBY The Princes both make high account of you-- [Aside.] For they account his head upon the Bridge. HASTINGS I know they do, and I have well deserved it. [Enter Lord Stanley.] Come on, come on. Where is your boar-spear, man? Fear you the boar and go so unprovided? STANLEY My lord, good morrow.--Good morrow, Catesby.-- You may jest on, but, by the Holy Rood, I do not like these several councils, I. HASTINGS My lord, I hold my life as dear as you do yours, And never in my days, I do protest, Was it so precious to me as 'tis now. Think you but that I know our state secure, I would be so triumphant as I am? STANLEY The lords at Pomfret, when they rode from London, Were jocund and supposed their states were sure, And they indeed had no cause to mistrust; But yet you see how soon the day o'ercast. This sudden stab of rancor I misdoubt. Pray God, I say, I prove a needless coward! What, shall we toward the Tower? The day is spent. HASTINGS Come, come. Have with you. Wot you what, my lord? Today the lords you talked of are beheaded. STANLEY They, for their truth, might better wear their heads Than some that have accused them wear their hats. But come, my lord, let's away. [Enter a Pursuivant.] HASTINGS Go on before. I'll talk with this good fellow. [Lord Stanley and Catesby exit.] How now, sirrah? How goes the world with thee? PURSUIVANT The better that your Lordship please to ask. HASTINGS I tell thee, man, 'tis better with me now Than when thou met'st me last where now we meet. Then was I going prisoner to the Tower By the suggestion of the Queen's allies. But now, I tell thee--keep it to thyself-- This day those enemies are put to death, And I in better state than e'er I was. PURSUIVANT God hold it, to your Honor's good content! HASTINGS Gramercy, fellow. There, drink that for me. [Throws him his purse.] PURSUIVANT I thank your Honor. [Pursuivant exits.] [Enter a Priest.] PRIEST Well met, my lord. I am glad to see your Honor. HASTINGS I thank thee, good Sir John, with all my heart. I am in your debt for your last exercise. Come the next sabbath, and I will content you. PRIEST I'll wait upon your Lordship. [Priest exits.] [Enter Buckingham.] BUCKINGHAM What, talking with a priest, Lord Chamberlain? Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the priest; Your Honor hath no shriving work in hand. HASTINGS Good faith, and when I met this holy man, The men you talk of came into my mind. What, go you toward the Tower? BUCKINGHAM I do, my lord, but long I cannot stay there. I shall return before your Lordship thence. HASTINGS Nay, like enough, for I stay dinner there. BUCKINGHAM, [aside] And supper too, although thou know'st it not.-- Come, will you go? HASTINGS I'll wait upon your Lordship. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Sir Richard Ratcliffe, with Halberds, carrying the nobles Rivers, Grey, and Vaughan to death at Pomfret.] RIVERS Sir Richard Ratcliffe, let me tell thee this: Today shalt thou behold a subject die For truth, for duty, and for loyalty. GREY, [to Ratcliffe] God bless the Prince from all the pack of you! A knot you are of damned bloodsuckers. VAUGHAN, [to Ratcliffe] You live that shall cry woe for this hereafter. RATCLIFFE Dispatch. The limit of your lives is out. RIVERS O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody prison, Fatal and ominous to noble peers! Within the guilty closure of thy walls, Richard the Second here was hacked to death, And, for more slander to thy dismal seat, We give to thee our guiltless blood to drink. GREY Now Margaret's curse is fall'n upon our heads, When she exclaimed on Hastings, you, and I, For standing by when Richard stabbed her son. RIVERS Then cursed she Richard. Then cursed she Buckingham. Then cursed she Hastings. O, remember, God, To hear her prayer for them as now for us! And for my sister and her princely sons, Be satisfied, dear God, with our true blood, Which, as thou know'st, unjustly must be spilt. RATCLIFFE Make haste. The hour of death is expiate. RIVERS Come, Grey. Come, Vaughan. Let us here embrace. [They embrace.] Farewell until we meet again in heaven. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Buckingham, Lord Stanley, Earl of Derby, Hastings, Bishop of Ely, Norfolk, Ratcliffe, Lovell, with others, at a table.] HASTINGS Now, noble peers, the cause why we are met Is to determine of the coronation. In God's name, speak. When is the royal day? BUCKINGHAM Is all things ready for the royal time? STANLEY It is, and wants but nomination. ELY Tomorrow, then, I judge a happy day. BUCKINGHAM Who knows the Lord Protector's mind herein? Who is most inward with the noble duke? ELY Your Grace, we think, should soonest know his mind. BUCKINGHAM We know each other's faces; for our hearts, He knows no more of mine than I of yours, Or I of his, my lord, than you of mine.-- Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love. HASTINGS I thank his Grace, I know he loves me well. But for his purpose in the coronation, I have not sounded him, nor he delivered His gracious pleasure any way therein. But you, my honorable lords, may name the time, And in the Duke's behalf I'll give my voice, Which I presume he'll take in gentle part. [Enter Richard, Duke of Gloucester.] ELY In happy time here comes the Duke himself. RICHARD My noble lords and cousins all, good morrow. I have been long a sleeper; but I trust My absence doth neglect no great design Which by my presence might have been concluded. BUCKINGHAM Had you not come upon your cue, my lord, William Lord Hastings had pronounced your part-- I mean your voice for crowning of the King. RICHARD Than my Lord Hastings no man might be bolder. His Lordship knows me well and loves me well.-- My lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborn I saw good strawberries in your garden there; I do beseech you, send for some of them. ELY Marry and will, my lord, with all my heart. [Exit Bishop of Ely.] RICHARD Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you. [They move aside.] Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our business And finds the testy gentleman so hot That he will lose his head ere give consent His master's child, as worshipfully he terms it, Shall lose the royalty of England's throne. BUCKINGHAM Withdraw yourself awhile. I'll go with you. [Richard and Buckingham exit.] STANLEY We have not yet set down this day of triumph. Tomorrow, in my judgment, is too sudden, For I myself am not so well provided As else I would be, were the day prolonged. [Enter the Bishop of Ely.] ELY Where is my lord the Duke of Gloucester? I have sent for these strawberries. HASTINGS His Grace looks cheerfully and smooth this morning. There's some conceit or other likes him well When that he bids good morrow with such spirit. I think there's never a man in Christendom Can lesser hide his love or hate than he, For by his face straight shall you know his heart. STANLEY What of his heart perceive you in his face By any livelihood he showed today? HASTINGS Marry, that with no man here he is offended, For were he, he had shown it in his looks. [Enter Richard and Buckingham.] RICHARD I pray you all, tell me what they deserve That do conspire my death with devilish plots Of damned witchcraft, and that have prevailed Upon my body with their hellish charms? HASTINGS The tender love I bear your Grace, my lord, Makes me most forward in this princely presence To doom th' offenders, whosoe'er they be. I say, my lord, they have deserved death. RICHARD Then be your eyes the witness of their evil. [He shows his arm.] Look how I am bewitched! Behold mine arm Is like a blasted sapling withered up; And this is Edward's wife, that monstrous witch, Consorted with that harlot, strumpet Shore, That by their witchcraft thus have marked me. HASTINGS If they have done this deed, my noble lord-- RICHARD If? Thou protector of this damned strumpet, Talk'st thou to me of "ifs"? Thou art a traitor.-- Off with his head. Now by Saint Paul I swear I will not dine until I see the same.-- Lovell and Ratcliffe, look that it be done.-- The rest that love me, rise and follow me. [They exit. Lovell and Ratcliffe remain, with the Lord Hastings.] HASTINGS Woe, woe for England! Not a whit for me, For I, too fond, might have prevented this. Stanley did dream the boar did raze his helm, And I did scorn it and disdain to fly. Three times today my foot-cloth horse did stumble, And started when he looked upon the Tower, As loath to bear me to the slaughterhouse. O, now I need the priest that spake to me! I now repent I told the pursuivant, As too triumphing, how mine enemies Today at Pomfret bloodily were butchered, And I myself secure in grace and favor. O Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse Is lighted on poor Hastings' wretched head. RATCLIFFE Come, come, dispatch. The Duke would be at dinner. Make a short shrift. He longs to see your head. HASTINGS O momentary grace of mortal men, Which we more hunt for than the grace of God! Who builds his hope in air of your good looks Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast, Ready with every nod to tumble down Into the fatal bowels of the deep. LOVELL Come, come, dispatch. 'Tis bootless to exclaim. HASTINGS O bloody Richard! Miserable England, I prophesy the fearfull'st time to thee That ever wretched age hath looked upon.-- Come, lead me to the block. Bear him my head. They smile at me who shortly shall be dead. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Richard and Buckingham, in rotten armor, marvelous ill-favored.] RICHARD Come, cousin, canst thou quake and change thy color, Murder thy breath in middle of a word, And then again begin, and stop again, As if thou were distraught and mad with terror? BUCKINGHAM Tut, I can counterfeit the deep tragedian, Speak, and look back, and pry on every side, Tremble and start at wagging of a straw, Intending deep suspicion. Ghastly looks Are at my service, like enforced smiles, And both are ready, in their offices, At any time to grace my stratagems. But what, is Catesby gone? RICHARD He is; and see he brings the Mayor along. [Enter the Mayor and Catesby.] BUCKINGHAM Lord Mayor-- RICHARD Look to the drawbridge there! BUCKINGHAM Hark, a drum! RICHARD Catesby, o'erlook the walls. [Catesby exits.] BUCKINGHAM Lord Mayor, the reason we have sent-- RICHARD Look back! Defend thee! Here are enemies. BUCKINGHAM God and our innocence defend and guard us! [Enter Lovell and Ratcliffe, with Hastings' head.] RICHARD Be patient. They are friends, Ratcliffe and Lovell. LOVELL Here is the head of that ignoble traitor, The dangerous and unsuspected Hastings. RICHARD So dear I loved the man that I must weep. I took him for the plainest harmless creature That breathed upon the Earth a Christian; Made him my book, wherein my soul recorded The history of all her secret thoughts. So smooth he daubed his vice with show of virtue That, his apparent open guilt omitted-- I mean his conversation with Shore's wife-- He lived from all attainder of suspects. BUCKINGHAM Well, well, he was the covert'st sheltered traitor That ever lived.-- Would you imagine, or almost believe, Were 't not that by great preservation We live to tell it, that the subtle traitor This day had plotted, in the council house, To murder me and my good lord of Gloucester? MAYOR Had he done so? RICHARD What, think you we are Turks or infidels? Or that we would, against the form of law, Proceed thus rashly in the villain's death, But that the extreme peril of the case, The peace of England, and our persons' safety Enforced us to this execution? MAYOR Now fair befall you! He deserved his death, And your good Graces both have well proceeded To warn false traitors from the like attempts. BUCKINGHAM I never looked for better at his hands After he once fell in with Mistress Shore. Yet had we not determined he should die Until your Lordship came to see his end (Which now the loving haste of these our friends, Something against our meanings, have prevented), Because, my lord, I would have had you heard The traitor speak and timorously confess The manner and the purpose of his treasons, That you might well have signified the same Unto the citizens, who haply may Misconster us in him, and wail his death. MAYOR But, my good lord, your Graces' words shall serve As well as I had seen and heard him speak; And do not doubt, right noble princes both, But I'll acquaint our duteous citizens With all your just proceedings in this case. RICHARD And to that end we wished your Lordship here, T' avoid the censures of the carping world. BUCKINGHAM Which since you come too late of our intent, Yet witness what you hear we did intend. And so, my good Lord Mayor, we bid farewell. [Mayor exits.] RICHARD Go after, after, cousin Buckingham. The Mayor towards Guildhall hies him in all post. There, at your meetest vantage of the time, Infer the bastardy of Edward's children. Tell them how Edward put to death a citizen Only for saying he would make his son Heir to the Crown--meaning indeed his house, Which, by the sign thereof, was termed so. Moreover, urge his hateful luxury And bestial appetite in change of lust, Which stretched unto their servants, daughters, wives, Even where his raging eye or savage heart, Without control, lusted to make a prey. Nay, for a need, thus far come near my person: Tell them when that my mother went with child Of that insatiate Edward, noble York My princely father then had wars in France, And, by true computation of the time, Found that the issue was not his begot, Which well appeared in his lineaments, Being nothing like the noble duke my father. Yet touch this sparingly, as 'twere far off, Because, my lord, you know my mother lives. BUCKINGHAM Doubt not, my lord. I'll play the orator As if the golden fee for which I plead Were for myself. And so, my lord, adieu. RICHARD If you thrive well, bring them to Baynard's Castle, Where you shall find me well accompanied With reverend fathers and well-learned bishops. BUCKINGHAM I go; and towards three or four o'clock Look for the news that the Guildhall affords. [Buckingham exits.] RICHARD Go, Lovell, with all speed to Doctor Shaa. [To Ratcliffe.] Go thou to Friar Penker. Bid them both Meet me within this hour at Baynard's Castle. [Ratcliffe and Lovell exit.] Now will I go to take some privy order To draw the brats of Clarence out of sight, And to give order that no manner person Have any time recourse unto the Princes. [He exits.] Scene 6 ======= [Enter a Scrivener.] SCRIVENER Here is the indictment of the good Lord Hastings, Which in a set hand fairly is engrossed, That it may be today read o'er in Paul's. And mark how well the sequel hangs together: Eleven hours I have spent to write it over, For yesternight by Catesby was it sent me; The precedent was full as long a-doing, And yet within these five hours Hastings lived, Untainted, unexamined, free, at liberty. Here's a good world the while! Who is so gross That cannot see this palpable device? Yet who so bold but says he sees it not? Bad is the world, and all will come to naught When such ill dealing must be seen in thought. [He exits.] Scene 7 ======= [Enter Richard and Buckingham at several doors.] RICHARD How now, how now? What say the citizens? BUCKINGHAM Now, by the holy mother of our Lord, The citizens are mum, say not a word. RICHARD Touched you the bastardy of Edward's children? BUCKINGHAM I did; with his contract with Lady Lucy And his contract by deputy in France; Th' unsatiate greediness of his desire And his enforcement of the city wives; His tyranny for trifles; his own bastardy, As being got, your father then in France, And his resemblance being not like the Duke. Withal, I did infer your lineaments, Being the right idea of your father, Both in your form and nobleness of mind; Laid open all your victories in Scotland, Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace, Your bounty, virtue, fair humility; Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpose Untouched or slightly handled in discourse. And when mine oratory drew toward end, I bid them that did love their country's good Cry "God save Richard, England's royal king!" RICHARD And did they so? BUCKINGHAM No. So God help me, they spake not a word But, like dumb statues or breathing stones, Stared each on other and looked deadly pale; Which when I saw, I reprehended them And asked the Mayor what meant this willful silence. His answer was, the people were not used To be spoke to but by the Recorder. Then he was urged to tell my tale again: "Thus saith the Duke. Thus hath the Duke inferred"-- But nothing spoke in warrant from himself. When he had done, some followers of mine own, At lower end of the hall, hurled up their caps, And some ten voices cried "God save King Richard!" And thus I took the vantage of those few. "Thanks, gentle citizens and friends," quoth I. "This general applause and cheerful shout Argues your wisdoms and your love to Richard"-- And even here brake off and came away. RICHARD What tongueless blocks were they! Would they not speak? Will not the Mayor then and his brethren come? BUCKINGHAM The Mayor is here at hand. Intend some fear; Be not you spoke with but by mighty suit. And look you get a prayer book in your hand And stand between two churchmen, good my lord, For on that ground I'll make a holy descant. And be not easily won to our requests. Play the maid's part: still answer "nay," and take it. RICHARD I go. An if you plead as well for them As I can say "nay" to thee for myself, No doubt we bring it to a happy issue. [Knocking within.] BUCKINGHAM Go, go, up to the leads. The Lord Mayor knocks. [Richard exits.] [Enter the Mayor and Citizens.] Welcome, my lord. I dance attendance here. I think the Duke will not be spoke withal. [Enter Catesby.] Now, Catesby, what says your lord to my request? CATESBY He doth entreat your Grace, my noble lord, To visit him tomorrow or next day. He is within, with two right reverend fathers, Divinely bent to meditation, And in no worldly suits would he be moved To draw him from his holy exercise. BUCKINGHAM Return, good Catesby, to the gracious duke. Tell him myself, the Mayor, and aldermen, In deep designs, in matter of great moment No less importing than our general good, Are come to have some conference with his Grace. CATESBY I'll signify so much unto him straight. [He exits.] BUCKINGHAM Ah ha, my lord, this prince is not an Edward! He is not lolling on a lewd love-bed, But on his knees at meditation; Not dallying with a brace of courtesans, But meditating with two deep divines; Not sleeping, to engross his idle body, But praying, to enrich his watchful soul. Happy were England would this virtuous prince Take on his Grace the sovereignty thereof. But sure I fear we shall not win him to it. MAYOR Marry, God defend his Grace should say us nay. BUCKINGHAM I fear he will. Here Catesby comes again. [Enter Catesby.] Now, Catesby, what says his Grace? CATESBY He wonders to what end you have assembled Such troops of citizens to come to him, His Grace not being warned thereof before. He fears, my lord, you mean no good to him. BUCKINGHAM Sorry I am my noble cousin should Suspect me that I mean no good to him. By heaven, we come to him in perfect love, And so once more return and tell his Grace. [Catesby exits.] When holy and devout religious men Are at their beads, 'tis much to draw them thence, So sweet is zealous contemplation. [Enter Richard aloft, between two Bishops.] [Catesby reenters.] MAYOR See where his Grace stands, 'tween two clergymen. BUCKINGHAM Two props of virtue for a Christian prince, To stay him from the fall of vanity; And, see, a book of prayer in his hand, True ornaments to know a holy man.-- Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince, Lend favorable ear to our requests, And pardon us the interruption Of thy devotion and right Christian zeal. RICHARD My lord, there needs no such apology. I do beseech your Grace to pardon me, Who, earnest in the service of my God, Deferred the visitation of my friends. But, leaving this, what is your Grace's pleasure? BUCKINGHAM Even that, I hope, which pleaseth God above And all good men of this ungoverned isle. RICHARD I do suspect I have done some offense That seems disgracious in the city's eye, And that you come to reprehend my ignorance. BUCKINGHAM You have, my lord. Would it might please your Grace, On our entreaties, to amend your fault. RICHARD Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian land? BUCKINGHAM Know, then, it is your fault that you resign The supreme seat, the throne majestical, The sceptered office of your ancestors, Your state of fortune, and your due of birth, The lineal glory of your royal house, To the corruption of a blemished stock, Whiles in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts, Which here we waken to our country's good, The noble isle doth want her proper limbs-- Her face defaced with scars of infamy, Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants, And almost shouldered in the swallowing gulf Of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion; Which to recure, we heartily solicit Your gracious self to take on you the charge And kingly government of this your land, Not as Protector, steward, substitute, Or lowly factor for another's gain, But as successively, from blood to blood, Your right of birth, your empery, your own. For this, consorted with the citizens, Your very worshipful and loving friends, And by their vehement instigation, In this just cause come I to move your Grace. RICHARD I cannot tell if to depart in silence Or bitterly to speak in your reproof Best fitteth my degree or your condition. If not to answer, you might haply think Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty, Which fondly you would here impose on me. If to reprove you for this suit of yours, So seasoned with your faithful love to me, Then on the other side I checked my friends. Therefore, to speak, and to avoid the first, And then, in speaking, not to incur the last, Definitively thus I answer you: Your love deserves my thanks, but my desert Unmeritable shuns your high request. First, if all obstacles were cut away And that my path were even to the crown As the ripe revenue and due of birth, Yet so much is my poverty of spirit, So mighty and so many my defects, That I would rather hide me from my greatness, Being a bark to brook no mighty sea, Than in my greatness covet to be hid And in the vapor of my glory smothered. But, God be thanked, there is no need of me, And much I need to help you, were there need. The royal tree hath left us royal fruit, Which, mellowed by the stealing hours of time, Will well become the seat of majesty, And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign. On him I lay that you would lay on me, The right and fortune of his happy stars, Which God defend that I should wring from him. BUCKINGHAM My lord, this argues conscience in your Grace, But the respects thereof are nice and trivial, All circumstances well considered. You say that Edward is your brother's son; So say we too, but not by Edward's wife. For first was he contract to Lady Lucy-- Your mother lives a witness to his vow-- And afterward by substitute betrothed To Bona, sister to the King of France. These both put off, a poor petitioner, A care-crazed mother to a many sons, A beauty-waning and distressed widow, Even in the afternoon of her best days, Made prize and purchase of his wanton eye, Seduced the pitch and height of his degree To base declension and loathed bigamy. By her in his unlawful bed he got This Edward, whom our manners call "the Prince." More bitterly could I expostulate, Save that, for reverence to some alive, I give a sparing limit to my tongue. Then, good my lord, take to your royal self This proffered benefit of dignity, If not to bless us and the land withal, Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry From the corruption of abusing times Unto a lineal, true-derived course. MAYOR Do, good my lord. Your citizens entreat you. BUCKINGHAM Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffered love. CATESBY O, make them joyful. Grant their lawful suit. RICHARD Alas, why would you heap this care on me? I am unfit for state and majesty. I do beseech you, take it not amiss; I cannot, nor I will not, yield to you. BUCKINGHAM If you refuse it, as in love and zeal Loath to depose the child, your brother's son-- As well we know your tenderness of heart And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse, Which we have noted in you to your kindred And equally indeed to all estates-- Yet know, whe'er you accept our suit or no, Your brother's son shall never reign our king, But we will plant some other in the throne, To the disgrace and downfall of your house. And in this resolution here we leave you.-- Come, citizens. Zounds, I'll entreat no more. RICHARD O, do not swear, my lord of Buckingham! [Buckingham and some others exit.] CATESBY Call him again, sweet prince. Accept their suit. If you deny them, all the land will rue it. RICHARD Will you enforce me to a world of cares? Call them again. I am not made of stones, But penetrable to your kind entreaties, Albeit against my conscience and my soul. [Enter Buckingham and the rest.] Cousin of Buckingham and sage, grave men, Since you will buckle Fortune on my back, To bear her burden, whe'er I will or no, I must have patience to endure the load; But if black scandal or foul-faced reproach Attend the sequel of your imposition, Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me From all the impure blots and stains thereof, For God doth know, and you may partly see, How far I am from the desire of this. MAYOR God bless your Grace! We see it and will say it. RICHARD In saying so, you shall but say the truth. BUCKINGHAM Then I salute you with this royal title: Long live Richard, England's worthy king! ALL Amen. BUCKINGHAM Tomorrow may it please you to be crowned? RICHARD Even when you please, for you will have it so. BUCKINGHAM Tomorrow, then, we will attend your Grace, And so most joyfully we take our leave. RICHARD, [to the Bishops] Come, let us to our holy work again.-- Farewell, my cousin. Farewell, gentle friends. [They exit.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Queen Elizabeth, with the Duchess of York, and the Lord Marquess of Dorset, at one door; Anne, Duchess of Gloucester with Clarence's daughter, at another door.] DUCHESS Who meets us here? My niece Plantagenet Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloucester? Now, for my life, she's wandering to the Tower, On pure heart's love, to greet the tender prince.-- Daughter, well met. ANNE God give your Graces both A happy and a joyful time of day. QUEEN ELIZABETH As much to you, good sister. Whither away? ANNE No farther than the Tower, and, as I guess, Upon the like devotion as yourselves, To gratulate the gentle princes there. QUEEN ELIZABETH Kind sister, thanks. We'll enter all together. [Enter Brakenbury, the Lieutenant.] And in good time here the Lieutenant comes.-- Master Lieutenant, pray you, by your leave, How doth the Prince and my young son of York? BRAKENBURY Right well, dear madam. By your patience, I may not suffer you to visit them. The King hath strictly charged the contrary. QUEEN ELIZABETH The King? Who's that? BRAKENBURY I mean, the Lord Protector. QUEEN ELIZABETH The Lord protect him from that kingly title! Hath he set bounds between their love and me? I am their mother. Who shall bar me from them? DUCHESS I am their father's mother. I will see them. ANNE Their aunt I am in law, in love their mother. Then bring me to their sights. I'll bear thy blame And take thy office from thee, on my peril. BRAKENBURY No, madam, no. I may not leave it so. I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me. [Brakenbury the Lieutenant exits.] [Enter Stanley.] STANLEY Let me but meet you ladies one hour hence, And I'll salute your Grace of York as mother And reverend looker-on of two fair queens. [To Anne.] Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster, There to be crowned Richard's royal queen. QUEEN ELIZABETH Ah, cut my lace asunder That my pent heart may have some scope to beat, Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news! ANNE Despiteful tidings! O, unpleasing news! DORSET, [to Queen Elizabeth] Be of good cheer, mother. How fares your Grace? QUEEN ELIZABETH O Dorset, speak not to me. Get thee gone. Death and destruction dogs thee at thy heels. Thy mother's name is ominous to children. If thou wilt outstrip death, go, cross the seas, And live with Richmond, from the reach of hell. Go, hie thee, hie thee from this slaughterhouse, Lest thou increase the number of the dead And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse, Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted queen. STANLEY Full of wise care is this your counsel, madam. [To Dorset.] Take all the swift advantage of the hours. You shall have letters from me to my son In your behalf, to meet you on the way. Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay. DUCHESS O ill-dispersing wind of misery! O my accursed womb, the bed of death! A cockatrice hast thou hatched to the world, Whose unavoided eye is murderous. STANLEY, [to Anne] Come, madam, come. I in all haste was sent. ANNE And I with all unwillingness will go. O, would to God that the inclusive verge Of golden metal that must round my brow Were red-hot steel to sear me to the brains! Anointed let me be with deadly venom, And die ere men can say "God save the Queen." QUEEN ELIZABETH Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory. To feed my humor, wish thyself no harm. ANNE No? Why? When he that is my husband now Came to me as I followed Henry's corse, When scarce the blood was well washed from his hands Which issued from my other angel husband And that dear saint which then I weeping followed-- O, when, I say, I looked on Richard's face, This was my wish: be thou, quoth I, accursed For making me, so young, so old a widow; And, when thou wedd'st, let sorrow haunt thy bed; And be thy wife, if any be so mad, More miserable by the life of thee Than thou hast made me by my dear lord's death. Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again, Within so small a time my woman's heart Grossly grew captive to his honey words And proved the subject of mine own soul's curse, Which hitherto hath held my eyes from rest, For never yet one hour in his bed Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep, But with his timorous dreams was still awaked. Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick, And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me. QUEEN ELIZABETH Poor heart, adieu. I pity thy complaining. ANNE No more than with my soul I mourn for yours. DORSET Farewell, thou woeful welcomer of glory. ANNE Adieu, poor soul that tak'st thy leave of it. DUCHESS, [to Dorset] Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune guide thee. [To Anne.] Go thou to Richard, and good angels tend thee. [To Queen Elizabeth.] Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess thee. I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me. Eighty-odd years of sorrow have I seen, And each hour's joy wracked with a week of teen. QUEEN ELIZABETH Stay, yet look back with me unto the Tower.-- Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes Whom envy hath immured within your walls-- Rough cradle for such little pretty ones. Rude ragged nurse, old sullen playfellow For tender princes, use my babies well. So foolish sorrows bids your stones farewell. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Sound a sennet. Enter Richard in pomp; Buckingham, Catesby, Ratcliffe, Lovell, and others, including a Page.] RICHARD Stand all apart.--Cousin of Buckingham. [The others move aside.] BUCKINGHAM My gracious sovereign. RICHARD Give me thy hand. [Here he ascendeth the throne. Sound trumpets.] Thus high, by thy advice And thy assistance is King Richard seated. But shall we wear these glories for a day, Or shall they last and we rejoice in them? BUCKINGHAM Still live they, and forever let them last. RICHARD Ah, Buckingham, now do I play the touch, To try if thou be current gold indeed: Young Edward lives; think now what I would speak. BUCKINGHAM Say on, my loving lord. RICHARD Why, Buckingham, I say I would be king. BUCKINGHAM Why so you are, my thrice-renowned lord. RICHARD Ha! Am I king? 'Tis so--but Edward lives. BUCKINGHAM True, noble prince. RICHARD O bitter consequence That Edward still should live "true noble prince"! Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull. Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead, And I would have it suddenly performed. What sayst thou now? Speak suddenly. Be brief. BUCKINGHAM Your Grace may do your pleasure. RICHARD Tut, tut, thou art all ice; thy kindness freezes. Say, have I thy consent that they shall die? BUCKINGHAM Give me some little breath, some pause, dear lord, Before I positively speak in this. I will resolve you herein presently. [Buckingham exits.] CATESBY, [aside to the other Attendants] The King is angry. See, he gnaws his lip. RICHARD, [aside] I will converse with iron-witted fools And unrespective boys. None are for me That look into me with considerate eyes. High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect.-- Boy! PAGE, [coming forward] My lord? RICHARD Know'st thou not any whom corrupting gold Will tempt unto a close exploit of death? PAGE I know a discontented gentleman Whose humble means match not his haughty spirit. Gold were as good as twenty orators, And will, no doubt, tempt him to anything. RICHARD What is his name? PAGE His name, my lord, is Tyrrel. RICHARD I partly know the man. Go, call him hither, boy. [Page exits.] [Aside.] The deep-revolving witty Buckingham No more shall be the neighbor to my counsels. Hath he so long held out with me, untired, And stops he now for breath? Well, be it so. [Enter Stanley.] How now, Lord Stanley, what's the news? STANLEY Know, my loving lord, The Marquess Dorset, as I hear, is fled To Richmond, in the parts where he abides. [He walks aside.] RICHARD Come hither, Catesby. Rumor it abroad That Anne my wife is very grievous sick. I will take order for her keeping close. Inquire me out some mean poor gentleman, Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daughter. The boy is foolish, and I fear not him. Look how thou dream'st! I say again, give out That Anne my queen is sick and like to die. About it, for it stands me much upon To stop all hopes whose growth may damage me. [Catesby exits.] [Aside.] I must be married to my brother's daughter, Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass. Murder her brothers, and then marry her-- Uncertain way of gain. But I am in So far in blood that sin will pluck on sin. Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye. [Enter Tyrrel.] Is thy name Tyrrel? TYRREL James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject. RICHARD Art thou indeed? TYRREL Prove me, my gracious lord. RICHARD Dar'st thou resolve to kill a friend of mine? TYRREL Please you. But I had rather kill two enemies. RICHARD Why then, thou hast it. Two deep enemies, Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep's disturbers, Are they that I would have thee deal upon. Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower. TYRREL Let me have open means to come to them, And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them. RICHARD Thou sing'st sweet music. Hark, come hither, Tyrrel. [Tyrrel approaches Richard and kneels.] Go, by this token. Rise, and lend thine ear. [Tyrrel rises, and Richard whispers to him. Then Tyrrel steps back.] There is no more but so. Say it is done, And I will love thee and prefer thee for it. TYRREL I will dispatch it straight. [He exits.] [Enter Buckingham.] BUCKINGHAM My lord, I have considered in my mind The late request that you did sound me in. RICHARD Well, let that rest. Dorset is fled to Richmond. BUCKINGHAM I hear the news, my lord. RICHARD Stanley, he is your wife's son. Well, look unto it. BUCKINGHAM My lord, I claim the gift, my due by promise, For which your honor and your faith is pawned-- Th' earldom of Hereford and the movables Which you have promised I shall possess. RICHARD Stanley, look to your wife. If she convey Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it. BUCKINGHAM What says your Highness to my just request? RICHARD I do remember me, Henry the Sixth Did prophesy that Richmond should be king, When Richmond was a little peevish boy. A king perhaps-- BUCKINGHAM My lord-- RICHARD How chance the prophet could not at that time Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him? BUCKINGHAM My lord, your promise for the earldom-- RICHARD Richmond! When last I was at Exeter, The Mayor in courtesy showed me the castle And called it Rougemont, at which name I started, Because a bard of Ireland told me once I should not live long after I saw Richmond. BUCKINGHAM My lord-- RICHARD Ay, what's o'clock? BUCKINGHAM I am thus bold to put your Grace in mind Of what you promised me. RICHARD Well, but what's o'clock? BUCKINGHAM Upon the stroke of ten. RICHARD Well, let it strike. BUCKINGHAM Why let it strike? RICHARD Because that, like a jack, thou keep'st the stroke Betwixt thy begging and my meditation. I am not in the giving vein today. BUCKINGHAM Why then, resolve me whether you will or no. RICHARD Thou troublest me; I am not in the vein. [He exits, and is followed by all but Buckingham.] BUCKINGHAM And is it thus? Repays he my deep service With such contempt? Made I him king for this? O, let me think on Hastings and be gone To Brecknock, while my fearful head is on! [He exits.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Tyrrel.] TYRREL The tyrannous and bloody act is done, The most arch deed of piteous massacre That ever yet this land was guilty of. Dighton and Forrest, who I did suborn To do this piece of ruthless butchery, Albeit they were fleshed villains, bloody dogs, Melted with tenderness and mild compassion, Wept like two children in their deaths' sad story. "O thus," quoth Dighton, "lay the gentle babes." "Thus, thus," quoth Forrest, "girdling one another Within their alabaster innocent arms. Their lips were four red roses on a stalk, And in their summer beauty kissed each other. A book of prayers on their pillow lay, Which once," quoth Forrest, "almost changed my mind, But, O, the devil--" There the villain stopped; When Dighton thus told on: "We smothered The most replenished sweet work of nature That from the prime creation e'er she framed." Hence both are gone with conscience and remorse; They could not speak; and so I left them both To bear this tidings to the bloody king. [Enter Richard.] And here he comes.--All health, my sovereign lord. RICHARD Kind Tyrrel, am I happy in thy news? TYRREL If to have done the thing you gave in charge Beget your happiness, be happy then, For it is done. RICHARD But did'st thou see them dead? TYRREL I did, my lord. RICHARD And buried, gentle Tyrrel? TYRREL The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them, But where, to say the truth, I do not know. RICHARD Come to me, Tyrrel, soon at after-supper, When thou shalt tell the process of their death. Meantime, but think how I may do thee good, And be inheritor of thy desire. Farewell till then. TYRREL I humbly take my leave. [Tyrrel exits.] RICHARD The son of Clarence have I pent up close, His daughter meanly have I matched in marriage, The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom, And Anne my wife hath bid this world goodnight. Now, for I know the Breton Richmond aims At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter, And by that knot looks proudly on the crown, To her go I, a jolly thriving wooer. [Enter Ratcliffe.] RATCLIFFE My lord. RICHARD Good or bad news, that thou com'st in so bluntly? RATCLIFFE Bad news, my lord. Morton is fled to Richmond, And Buckingham, backed with the hardy Welshmen, Is in the field, and still his power increaseth. RICHARD Ely with Richmond troubles me more near Than Buckingham and his rash-levied strength. Come, I have learned that fearful commenting Is leaden servitor to dull delay; Delay leads impotent and snail-paced beggary; Then fiery expedition be my wing, Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king. Go, muster men. My counsel is my shield. We must be brief when traitors brave the field. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter old Queen Margaret.] QUEEN MARGARET So now prosperity begins to mellow And drop into the rotten mouth of death. Here in these confines slyly have I lurked To watch the waning of mine enemies. A dire induction am I witness to, And will to France, hoping the consequence Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical. Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret. Who comes here? [She steps aside.] [Enter Duchess of York and Queen Elizabeth.] QUEEN ELIZABETH Ah, my poor princes! Ah, my tender babes, My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets, If yet your gentle souls fly in the air And be not fixed in doom perpetual, Hover about me with your airy wings And hear your mother's lamentation. QUEEN MARGARET, [aside] Hover about her; say that right for right Hath dimmed your infant morn to aged night. DUCHESS So many miseries have crazed my voice That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute. Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead? QUEEN MARGARET, [aside] Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet; Edward for Edward pays a dying debt. QUEEN ELIZABETH Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle lambs And throw them in the entrails of the wolf? When didst thou sleep when such a deed was done? QUEEN MARGARET, [aside] When holy Harry died, and my sweet son. DUCHESS, [to Queen Elizabeth] Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal living ghost, Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life usurped, Brief abstract and record of tedious days, Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth, Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood. QUEEN ELIZABETH, [as they both sit down] Ah, that thou wouldst as soon afford a grave As thou canst yield a melancholy seat, Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here. Ah, who hath any cause to mourn but we? QUEEN MARGARET, [coming forward] If ancient sorrow be most reverend, Give mine the benefit of seigniory, And let my griefs frown on the upper hand. If sorrow can admit society, Tell over your woes again by viewing mine. I had an Edward till a Richard killed him; I had a husband till a Richard killed him. Thou hadst an Edward till a Richard killed him; Thou hadst a Richard till a Richard killed him. DUCHESS I had a Richard too, and thou did'st kill him; I had a Rutland too; thou holp'st to kill him. QUEEN MARGARET Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard killed him. From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept A hellhound that doth hunt us all to death-- That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes, To worry lambs and lap their gentle blood; That excellent grand tyrant of the Earth, That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls; That foul defacer of God's handiwork Thy womb let loose to chase us to our graves. O upright, just, and true-disposing God, How do I thank thee that this carnal cur Preys on the issue of his mother's body And makes her pew-fellow with others' moan! DUCHESS, [standing] O Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes! God witness with me, I have wept for thine. QUEEN MARGARET Bear with me. I am hungry for revenge, And now I cloy me with beholding it. Thy Edward he is dead, that killed my Edward, Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward; Young York, he is but boot, because both they Matched not the high perfection of my loss. Thy Clarence he is dead that stabbed my Edward, And the beholders of this frantic play, Th' adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey, Untimely smothered in their dusky graves. Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer, Only reserved their factor to buy souls And send them thither. But at hand, at hand Ensues his piteous and unpitied end. Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray, To have him suddenly conveyed from hence. Cancel his bond of life, dear God I pray, That I may live and say "The dog is dead." QUEEN ELIZABETH, [standing] O, thou didst prophesy the time would come That I should wish for thee to help me curse That bottled spider, that foul bunch-backed toad! QUEEN MARGARET I called thee then "vain flourish of my fortune." I called thee then poor shadow, "painted queen," The presentation of but what I was, The flattering index of a direful pageant, One heaved a-high to be hurled down below, A mother only mocked with two fair babes, A dream of what thou wast, a garish flag To be the aim of every dangerous shot, A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble, A queen in jest, only to fill the scene. Where is thy husband now? Where be thy brothers? Where are thy two sons? Wherein dost thou joy? Who sues and kneels and says "God save the Queen?" Where be the bending peers that flattered thee? Where be the thronging troops that followed thee? Decline all this, and see what now thou art: For happy wife, a most distressed widow; For joyful mother, one that wails the name; For one being sued to, one that humbly sues; For queen, a very caitiff crowned with care; For she that scorned at me, now scorned of me; For she being feared of all, now fearing one; For she commanding all, obeyed of none. Thus hath the course of justice whirled about And left thee but a very prey to time, Having no more but thought of what thou wast To torture thee the more, being what thou art. Thou didst usurp my place, and dost thou not Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow? Now thy proud neck bears half my burdened yoke, From which even here I slip my weary head And leave the burden of it all on thee. Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mischance. These English woes shall make me smile in France. [She begins to exit.] QUEEN ELIZABETH O, thou well-skilled in curses, stay awhile, And teach me how to curse mine enemies. QUEEN MARGARET Forbear to sleep the nights, and fast the days; Compare dead happiness with living woe; Think that thy babes were sweeter than they were, And he that slew them fouler than he is. Bettering thy loss makes the bad causer worse. Revolving this will teach thee how to curse. QUEEN ELIZABETH My words are dull. O, quicken them with thine! QUEEN MARGARET Thy woes will make them sharp and pierce like mine. [Margaret exits.] DUCHESS Why should calamity be full of words? QUEEN ELIZABETH Windy attorneys to their clients' woes, Airy succeeders of intestate joys, Poor breathing orators of miseries, Let them have scope; though what they will impart Help nothing else, yet do they ease the heart. DUCHESS If so, then be not tongue-tied. Go with me, And in the breath of bitter words let's smother My damned son that thy two sweet sons smothered. [A trumpet sounds.] [The trumpet sounds.] Be copious in exclaims. [Enter King Richard and his train, including Catesby.] RICHARD Who intercepts me in my expedition? DUCHESS O, she that might have intercepted thee, By strangling thee in her accursed womb, From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done. QUEEN ELIZABETH, [to Richard] Hid'st thou that forehead with a golden crown Where should be branded, if that right were right, The slaughter of the prince that owed that crown And the dire death of my poor sons and brothers? Tell me, thou villain-slave, where are my children? DUCHESS, [to Richard] Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother Clarence, And little Ned Plantagenet his son? QUEEN ELIZABETH, [to Richard] Where is the gentle Rivers, Vaughan, Grey? DUCHESS, [to Richard] Where is kind Hastings? RICHARD A flourish, trumpets! Strike alarum, drums! Let not the heavens hear these telltale women Rail on the Lord's anointed. Strike, I say! [Flourish. Alarums.] Either be patient and entreat me fair, Or with the clamorous report of war Thus will I drown your exclamations. DUCHESS Art thou my son? RICHARD Ay, I thank God, my father, and yourself. DUCHESS Then patiently hear my impatience. RICHARD Madam, I have a touch of your condition, That cannot brook the accent of reproof. DUCHESS O, let me speak! RICHARD Do then, but I'll not hear. DUCHESS I will be mild and gentle in my words. RICHARD And brief, good mother, for I am in haste. DUCHESS Art thou so hasty? I have stayed for thee, God knows, in torment and in agony. RICHARD And came I not at last to comfort you? DUCHESS No, by the Holy Rood, thou know'st it well. Thou cam'st on Earth to make the Earth my hell. A grievous burden was thy birth to me; Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy; Thy school days frightful, desp'rate, wild, and furious; Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and venturous; Thy age confirmed, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody, More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred. What comfortable hour canst thou name, That ever graced me with thy company? RICHARD Faith, none but Humfrey Hower, that called your Grace To breakfast once, forth of my company. If I be so disgracious in your eye, Let me march on and not offend you, madam.-- Strike up the drum. DUCHESS I prithee, hear me speak. RICHARD You speak too bitterly. DUCHESS Hear me a word, For I shall never speak to thee again. RICHARD So. DUCHESS Either thou wilt die by God's just ordinance Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror, Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish And nevermore behold thy face again. Therefore take with thee my most grievous curse, Which in the day of battle tire thee more Than all the complete armor that thou wear'st. My prayers on the adverse party fight, And there the little souls of Edward's children Whisper the spirits of thine enemies And promise them success and victory. Bloody thou art; bloody will be thy end. Shame serves thy life and doth thy death attend. [She exits.] QUEEN ELIZABETH Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse Abides in me. I say amen to her. RICHARD Stay, madam. I must talk a word with you. QUEEN ELIZABETH I have no more sons of the royal blood For thee to slaughter. For my daughters, Richard, They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens, And therefore level not to hit their lives. RICHARD You have a daughter called Elizabeth, Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious. QUEEN ELIZABETH And must she die for this? O, let her live, And I'll corrupt her manners, stain her beauty, Slander myself as false to Edward's bed, Throw over her the veil of infamy. So she may live unscarred of bleeding slaughter, I will confess she was not Edward's daughter. RICHARD Wrong not her birth. She is a royal princess. QUEEN ELIZABETH To save her life, I'll say she is not so. RICHARD Her life is safest only in her birth. QUEEN ELIZABETH And only in that safety died her brothers. RICHARD Lo, at their birth good stars were opposite. QUEEN ELIZABETH No, to their lives ill friends were contrary. RICHARD All unavoided is the doom of destiny. QUEEN ELIZABETH True, when avoided grace makes destiny. My babes were destined to a fairer death If grace had blessed thee with a fairer life. RICHARD You speak as if that I had slain my cousins. QUEEN ELIZABETH Cousins, indeed, and by their uncle cozened Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life. Whose hand soever launched their tender hearts, Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction. No doubt the murd'rous knife was dull and blunt Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart, To revel in the entrails of my lambs. But that still use of grief makes wild grief tame, My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys Till that my nails were anchored in thine eyes, And I, in such a desp'rate bay of death, Like a poor bark of sails and tackling reft, Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom. RICHARD Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise And dangerous success of bloody wars As I intend more good to you and yours Than ever you or yours by me were harmed! QUEEN ELIZABETH What good is covered with the face of heaven, To be discovered, that can do me good? RICHARD Th' advancement of your children, gentle lady. QUEEN ELIZABETH Up to some scaffold, there to lose their heads. RICHARD Unto the dignity and height of fortune, The high imperial type of this Earth's glory. QUEEN ELIZABETH Flatter my sorrow with report of it. Tell me what state, what dignity, what honor, Canst thou demise to any child of mine? RICHARD Even all I have--ay, and myself and all-- Will I withal endow a child of thine; So in the Lethe of thy angry soul Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs Which thou supposest I have done to thee. QUEEN ELIZABETH Be brief, lest that the process of thy kindness Last longer telling than thy kindness' date. RICHARD Then know that from my soul I love thy daughter. QUEEN ELIZABETH My daughter's mother thinks it with her soul. RICHARD What do you think? QUEEN ELIZABETH That thou dost love my daughter from thy soul. So from thy soul's love didst thou love her brothers, And from my heart's love I do thank thee for it. RICHARD Be not so hasty to confound my meaning. I mean that with my soul I love thy daughter And do intend to make her Queen of England. QUEEN ELIZABETH Well then, who dost thou mean shall be her king? RICHARD Even he that makes her queen. Who else should be? QUEEN ELIZABETH What, thou? RICHARD Even so. How think you of it? QUEEN ELIZABETH How canst thou woo her? RICHARD That would I learn of you, As one being best acquainted with her humor. QUEEN ELIZABETH And wilt thou learn of me? RICHARD Madam, with all my heart. QUEEN ELIZABETH Send to her, by the man that slew her brothers, A pair of bleeding hearts; thereon engrave "Edward" and "York." Then haply will she weep. Therefore present to her--as sometime Margaret Did to thy father, steeped in Rutland's blood-- A handkerchief, which say to her did drain The purple sap from her sweet brother's body, And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withal. If this inducement move her not to love, Send her a letter of thy noble deeds; Tell her thou mad'st away her uncle Clarence, Her uncle Rivers, ay, and for her sake Mad'st quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne. RICHARD You mock me, madam. This is not the way To win your daughter. QUEEN ELIZABETH There is no other way, Unless thou couldst put on some other shape And not be Richard, that hath done all this. RICHARD Say that I did all this for love of her. QUEEN ELIZABETH Nay, then indeed she cannot choose but hate thee, Having bought love with such a bloody spoil. RICHARD Look what is done cannot be now amended. Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes, Which after-hours gives leisure to repent. If I did take the kingdom from your sons, To make amends I'll give it to your daughter. If I have killed the issue of your womb, To quicken your increase I will beget Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter. A grandam's name is little less in love Than is the doting title of a mother. They are as children but one step below, Even of your metal, of your very blood, Of all one pain, save for a night of groans Endured of her for whom you bid like sorrow. Your children were vexation to your youth, But mine shall be a comfort to your age. The loss you have is but a son being king, And by that loss your daughter is made queen. I cannot make you what amends I would; Therefore accept such kindness as I can. Dorset your son, that with a fearful soul Leads discontented steps in foreign soil, This fair alliance quickly shall call home To high promotions and great dignity. The king that calls your beauteous daughter wife Familiarly shall call thy Dorset brother. Again shall you be mother to a king, And all the ruins of distressful times Repaired with double riches of content. What, we have many goodly days to see! The liquid drops of tears that you have shed Shall come again, transformed to orient pearl, Advantaging their love with interest Of ten times double gain of happiness. Go then, my mother; to thy daughter go. Make bold her bashful years with your experience; Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale; Put in her tender heart th' aspiring flame Of golden sovereignty; acquaint the Princess With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys; And when this arm of mine hath chastised The petty rebel, dull-brained Buckingham, Bound with triumphant garlands will I come And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed, To whom I will retail my conquest won, And she shall be sole victoress, Caesar's Caesar. QUEEN ELIZABETH What were I best to say? Her father's brother Would be her lord? Or shall I say her uncle? Or he that slew her brothers and her uncles? Under what title shall I woo for thee, That God, the law, my honor, and her love Can make seem pleasing to her tender years? RICHARD Infer fair England's peace by this alliance. QUEEN ELIZABETH Which she shall purchase with still-lasting war. RICHARD Tell her the King, that may command, entreats-- QUEEN ELIZABETH That, at her hands, which the King's King forbids. RICHARD Say she shall be a high and mighty queen. QUEEN ELIZABETH To vail the title, as her mother doth. RICHARD Say I will love her everlastingly. QUEEN ELIZABETH But how long shall that title "ever" last? RICHARD Sweetly in force unto her fair life's end. QUEEN ELIZABETH But how long fairly shall her sweet life last? RICHARD As long as heaven and nature lengthens it. QUEEN ELIZABETH As long as hell and Richard likes of it. RICHARD Say I, her sovereign, am her subject low. QUEEN ELIZABETH But she, your subject, loathes such sovereignty. RICHARD Be eloquent in my behalf to her. QUEEN ELIZABETH An honest tale speeds best being plainly told. RICHARD Then plainly to her tell my loving tale. QUEEN ELIZABETH Plain and not honest is too harsh a style. RICHARD Your reasons are too shallow and too quick. QUEEN ELIZABETH O no, my reasons are too deep and dead-- Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their graves. RICHARD Harp not on that string, madam; that is past. QUEEN ELIZABETH Harp on it still shall I till heart-strings break. RICHARD Now by my George, my Garter, and my crown-- QUEEN ELIZABETH Profaned, dishonored, and the third usurped. RICHARD I swear-- QUEEN ELIZABETH By nothing, for this is no oath. Thy George, profaned, hath lost his lordly honor; Thy Garter, blemished, pawned his knightly virtue; Thy crown, usurped, disgraced his kingly glory. If something thou wouldst swear to be believed, Swear then by something that thou hast not wronged. RICHARD Then, by myself-- QUEEN ELIZABETH Thyself is self-misused. RICHARD Now, by the world-- QUEEN ELIZABETH 'Tis full of thy foul wrongs. RICHARD My father's death-- QUEEN ELIZABETH Thy life hath it dishonored. RICHARD Why then, by God. QUEEN ELIZABETH God's wrong is most of all. If thou didst fear to break an oath with Him, The unity the King my husband made Thou hadst not broken, nor my brothers died. If thou hadst feared to break an oath by Him, Th' imperial metal circling now thy head Had graced the tender temples of my child, And both the Princes had been breathing here, Which now, two tender bedfellows for dust, Thy broken faith hath made the prey for worms. What canst thou swear by now? RICHARD The time to come. QUEEN ELIZABETH That thou hast wronged in the time o'erpast; For I myself have many tears to wash Hereafter time, for time past wronged by thee. The children live whose fathers thou hast slaughtered, Ungoverned youth, to wail it in their age; The parents live whose children thou hast butchered, Old barren plants, to wail it with their age. Swear not by time to come, for that thou hast Misused ere used, by times ill-used o'erpast. RICHARD As I intend to prosper and repent, So thrive I in my dangerous affairs Of hostile arms! Myself myself confound, Heaven and fortune bar me happy hours, Day, yield me not thy light, nor night thy rest, Be opposite all planets of good luck To my proceeding if, with dear heart's love, Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts, I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter. In her consists my happiness and thine. Without her follows to myself and thee, Herself, the land, and many a Christian soul, Death, desolation, ruin, and decay. It cannot be avoided but by this; It will not be avoided but by this. Therefore, dear mother--I must call you so-- Be the attorney of my love to her; Plead what I will be, not what I have been; Not my deserts, but what I will deserve. Urge the necessity and state of times, And be not peevish found in great designs. QUEEN ELIZABETH Shall I be tempted of the devil thus? RICHARD Ay, if the devil tempt you to do good. QUEEN ELIZABETH Shall I forget myself to be myself? RICHARD Ay, if your self's remembrance wrong yourself. QUEEN ELIZABETH Yet thou didst kill my children. RICHARD But in your daughter's womb I bury them, Where, in that nest of spicery, they will breed Selves of themselves, to your recomforture. QUEEN ELIZABETH Shall I go win my daughter to thy will? RICHARD And be a happy mother by the deed. QUEEN ELIZABETH I go. Write to me very shortly, And you shall understand from me her mind. RICHARD Bear her my true love's kiss; and so, farewell. [Queen exits.] Relenting fool and shallow, changing woman! [Enter Ratcliffe.] How now, what news? RATCLIFFE Most mighty sovereign, on the western coast Rideth a puissant navy. To our shores Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends, Unarmed and unresolved to beat them back. 'Tis thought that Richmond is their admiral; And there they hull, expecting but the aid Of Buckingham to welcome them ashore. RICHARD Some light-foot friend post to the Duke of Norfolk-- Ratcliffe thyself, or Catesby. Where is he? CATESBY Here, my good lord. RICHARD Catesby, fly to the Duke. CATESBY I will, my lord, with all convenient haste. RICHARD Ratcliffe, come hither. Post to Salisbury.When thou com'st thither--[To Catesby.] Dull, unmindful villain, Why stay'st thou here and go'st not to the Duke? CATESBY First, mighty liege, tell me your Highness' pleasure, What from your Grace I shall deliver to him. RICHARD O true, good Catesby. Bid him levy straight The greatest strength and power that he can make And meet me suddenly at Salisbury. CATESBY I go. [He exits.] RATCLIFFE What, may it please you, shall I do at Salisbury? RICHARD Why, what wouldst thou do there before I go? RATCLIFFE Your Highness told me I should post before. RICHARD My mind is changed. [Enter Lord Stanley.] Stanley, what news with you? STANLEY None good, my liege, to please you with the hearing, Nor none so bad but well may be reported. RICHARD Hoyday, a riddle! Neither good nor bad. What need'st thou run so many miles about When thou mayst tell thy tale the nearest way? Once more, what news? STANLEY Richmond is on the seas. RICHARD There let him sink, and be the seas on him! White-livered runagate, what doth he there? STANLEY I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess. RICHARD Well, as you guess? STANLEY Stirred up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton, He makes for England, here to claim the crown. RICHARD Is the chair empty? Is the sword unswayed? Is the King dead, the empire unpossessed? What heir of York is there alive but we? And who is England's king but great York's heir? Then tell me, what makes he upon the seas? STANLEY Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess. RICHARD Unless for that he comes to be your liege, You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman comes. Thou wilt revolt and fly to him, I fear. STANLEY No, my good lord. Therefore mistrust me not. RICHARD Where is thy power, then, to beat him back? Where be thy tenants and thy followers? Are they not now upon the western shore, Safe-conducting the rebels from their ships? STANLEY No, my good lord. My friends are in the north. RICHARD Cold friends to me. What do they in the north When they should serve their sovereign in the west? STANLEY They have not been commanded, mighty king. Pleaseth your Majesty to give me leave, I'll muster up my friends and meet your Grace Where and what time your Majesty shall please. RICHARD Ay, thou wouldst be gone to join with Richmond, But I'll not trust thee. STANLEY Most mighty sovereign, You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful. I never was nor never will be false. RICHARD Go then and muster men, but leave behind Your son George Stanley. Look your heart be firm, Or else his head's assurance is but frail. STANLEY So deal with him as I prove true to you. [Stanley exits.] [Enter a Messenger.] FIRST MESSENGER My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire, As I by friends am well advertised, Sir Edward Courtney and the haughty prelate, Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother, With many more confederates are in arms. [Enter another Messenger.] SECOND MESSENGER In Kent, my liege, the Guilfords are in arms, And every hour more competitors Flock to the rebels, and their power grows strong. [Enter another Messenger.] THIRD MESSENGER My lord, the army of great Buckingham-- RICHARD Out on you, owls! Nothing but songs of death. [He striketh him.] There, take thou that till thou bring better news. THIRD MESSENGER The news I have to tell your Majesty Is that by sudden floods and fall of waters Buckingham's army is dispersed and scattered, And he himself wandered away alone, No man knows whither. RICHARD I cry thee mercy. There is my purse to cure that blow of thine. [He gives money.] Hath any well-advised friend proclaimed Reward to him that brings the traitor in? THIRD MESSENGER Such proclamation hath been made, my lord. [Enter another Messenger.] FOURTH MESSENGER Sir Thomas Lovell and Lord Marquess Dorset, 'Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms. But this good comfort bring I to your Highness: The Breton navy is dispersed by tempest. Richmond, in Dorsetshire, sent out a boat Unto the shore to ask those on the banks If they were his assistants, yea, or no-- Who answered him they came from Buckingham Upon his party. He, mistrusting them, Hoised sail and made his course again for Brittany. RICHARD March on, march on, since we are up in arms, If not to fight with foreign enemies, Yet to beat down these rebels here at home. [Enter Catesby.] CATESBY My liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken. That is the best news. That the Earl of Richmond Is with a mighty power landed at Milford Is colder tidings, yet they must be told. RICHARD Away towards Salisbury! While we reason here, A royal battle might be won and lost. Someone take order Buckingham be brought To Salisbury. The rest march on with me. [Flourish. They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Stanley, Earl of Derby, and Sir Christopher.] STANLEY Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me: That in the sty of the most deadly boar My son George Stanley is franked up in hold; If I revolt, off goes young George's head; The fear of that holds off my present aid. So get thee gone. Commend me to thy lord. Withal, say that the Queen hath heartily consented He should espouse Elizabeth her daughter. But tell me, where is princely Richmond now? CHRISTOPHER At Pembroke, or at Ha'rfordwest in Wales. STANLEY What men of name resort to him? CHRISTOPHER Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier; Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley, Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir James Blunt, And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant crew, And many other of great name and worth; And towards London do they bend their power, If by the way they be not fought withal. STANLEY, [giving Sir Christopher a paper] Well, hie thee to thy lord. I kiss his hand. My letter will resolve him of my mind. Farewell. [They exit.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Buckingham, with Sheriff and Halberds, led to execution.] BUCKINGHAM Will not King Richard let me speak with him? SHERIFF No, my good lord. Therefore be patient. BUCKINGHAM Hastings and Edward's children, Grey and Rivers, Holy King Henry and thy fair son Edward, Vaughan, and all that have miscarried By underhand, corrupted, foul injustice, If that your moody, discontented souls Do through the clouds behold this present hour, Even for revenge mock my destruction.-- This is All Souls' Day, fellow, is it not? SHERIFF It is. BUCKINGHAM Why, then, All Souls' Day is my body's doomsday. This is the day which, in King Edward's time, I wished might fall on me when I was found False to his children and his wife's allies. This is the day wherein I wished to fall By the false faith of him whom most I trusted. This, this All Souls' Day to my fearful soul Is the determined respite of my wrongs. That high All-seer which I dallied with Hath turned my feigned prayer on my head And given in earnest what I begged in jest. Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men To turn their own points in their masters' bosoms. Thus Margaret's curse falls heavy on my neck: "When he," quoth she, "shall split thy heart with sorrow, Remember Margaret was a prophetess."-- Come, lead me, officers, to the block of shame. Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame. [Buckingham exits with Officers.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Richmond, Oxford, Blunt, Herbert, and others, with Drum and Colors.] RICHMOND Fellows in arms, and my most loving friends, Bruised underneath the yoke of tyranny, Thus far into the bowels of the land Have we marched on without impediment, And here receive we from our father Stanley Lines of fair comfort and encouragement. The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar, That spoiled your summer fields and fruitful vines, Swills your warm blood like wash, and makes his trough In your embowelled bosoms--this foul swine Is now even in the center of this isle, Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn. From Tamworth thither is but one day's march. In God's name, cheerly on, courageous friends, To reap the harvest of perpetual peace By this one bloody trial of sharp war. OXFORD Every man's conscience is a thousand men To fight against this guilty homicide. HERBERT I doubt not but his friends will turn to us. BLUNT He hath no friends but what are friends for fear, Which in his dearest need will fly from him. RICHMOND All for our vantage. Then, in God's name, march. True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings; Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings. [All exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter King Richard, in arms, with Norfolk, Ratcliffe, and the Earl of Surrey, with Soldiers.] RICHARD Here pitch our tent, even here in Bosworth field. [Soldiers begin to pitch the tent.] My lord of Surrey, why look you so sad? SURREY My heart is ten times lighter than my looks. RICHARD My lord of Norfolk-- NORFOLK Here, most gracious liege. RICHARD Norfolk, we must have knocks, ha, must we not? NORFOLK We must both give and take, my loving lord. RICHARD Up with my tent!--Here will I lie tonight. But where tomorrow? Well, all's one for that. Who hath descried the number of the traitors? NORFOLK Six or seven thousand is their utmost power. RICHARD Why, our battalia trebles that account. Besides, the King's name is a tower of strength Which they upon the adverse faction want.-- Up with the tent!--Come, noble gentlemen, Let us survey the vantage of the ground. Call for some men of sound direction; Let's lack no discipline, make no delay, For, lords, tomorrow is a busy day. [The tent now in place, they exit.] [Enter Richmond, Sir William Brandon, Oxford, Dorset, Herbert, Blunt, and others who set up Richmond's tent.] RICHMOND The weary sun hath made a golden set, And by the bright track of his fiery car Gives token of a goodly day tomorrow.-- Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my standard.-- Give me some ink and paper in my tent; I'll draw the form and model of our battle, Limit each leader to his several charge, And part in just proportion our small power.-- My Lord of Oxford, you, Sir William Brandon, And you, Sir Walter Herbert, stay with me. The Earl of Pembroke keeps his regiment.-- Good Captain Blunt, bear my goodnight to him, And by the second hour in the morning Desire the Earl to see me in my tent. Yet one thing more, good captain, do for me. Where is Lord Stanley quartered, do you know? BLUNT Unless I have mista'en his colors much, Which well I am assured I have not done, His regiment lies half a mile, at least, South from the mighty power of the King. RICHMOND If without peril it be possible, Sweet Blunt, make some good means to speak with him, And give him from me this most needful note. [He gives a paper.] BLUNT Upon my life, my lord, I'll undertake it, And so God give you quiet rest tonight. RICHMOND Good night, good Captain Blunt. [Blunt exits.] Come, gentlemen, Let us consult upon tomorrow's business. Into my tent. The dew is raw and cold. [Richmond, Brandon, Dorset, Herbert, and Oxford withdraw into the tent. The others exit.] [Enter to his tent Richard, Ratcliffe, Norfolk, and Catesby, with Soldiers.] RICHARD What is 't o'clock? CATESBY It's suppertime, my lord. It's nine o'clock. RICHARD I will not sup tonight. Give me some ink and paper. What, is my beaver easier than it was, And all my armor laid into my tent? CATESBY It is, my liege, and all things are in readiness. RICHARD Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge. Use careful watch. Choose trusty sentinels. NORFOLK I go, my lord. RICHARD Stir with the lark tomorrow, gentle Norfolk. NORFOLK I warrant you, my lord. [He exits.] RICHARD Catesby. CATESBY My lord. RICHARD Send out a pursuivant-at-arms To Stanley's regiment. Bid him bring his power Before sunrising, lest his son George fall Into the blind cave of eternal night. [Catesby exits.] [To Soldiers.] Fill me a bowl of wine. Give me a watch. Saddle white Surrey for the field tomorrow. Look that my staves be sound and not too heavy.-- Ratcliffe. RATCLIFFE My lord. RICHARD Sawst thou the melancholy Lord Northumberland? RATCLIFFE Thomas the Earl of Surrey and himself, Much about cockshut time, from troop to troop Went through the army cheering up the soldiers. RICHARD So, I am satisfied. Give me a bowl of wine. I have not that alacrity of spirit Nor cheer of mind that I was wont to have. [Wine is brought.] Set it down. Is ink and paper ready? RATCLIFFE It is, my lord. RICHARD Bid my guard watch. Leave me. Ratcliffe, about the mid of night come to my tent And help to arm me. Leave me, I say. [Ratcliffe exits. Richard sleeps in his tent, which is guarded by Soldiers.] [Enter Stanley, Earl of Derby to Richmond in his tent.] STANLEY Fortune and victory sit on thy helm! RICHMOND All comfort that the dark night can afford Be to thy person, noble father-in-law. Tell me, how fares our loving mother? STANLEY I, by attorney, bless thee from thy mother, Who prays continually for Richmond's good. So much for that. The silent hours steal on, And flaky darkness breaks within the east. In brief, for so the season bids us be, Prepare thy battle early in the morning, And put thy fortune to the arbitrament Of bloody strokes and mortal-staring war. I, as I may--that which I would I cannot-- With best advantage will deceive the time And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms. But on thy side I may not be too forward, Lest, being seen, thy brother, tender George, Be executed in his father's sight. Farewell. The leisure and the fearful time Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love And ample interchange of sweet discourse, Which so-long-sundered friends should dwell upon. God give us leisure for these rites of love! Once more, adieu. Be valiant and speed well. RICHMOND Good lords, conduct him to his regiment. I'll strive with troubled thoughts to take a nap, Lest leaden slumber peise me down tomorrow When I should mount with wings of victory. Once more, good night, kind lords and gentlemen. [All but Richmond leave his tent and exit.] [Richmond kneels.] O Thou, whose captain I account myself, Look on my forces with a gracious eye. Put in their hands Thy bruising irons of wrath, That they may crush down with a heavy fall The usurping helmets of our adversaries. Make us Thy ministers of chastisement, That we may praise Thee in the victory. To Thee I do commend my watchful soul, Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes. Sleeping and waking, O, defend me still! [Sleeps.] [Enter the Ghost of young Prince Edward, son to Harry the Sixth.] GHOST OF EDWARD, [to Richard] Let me sit heavy on thy soul tomorrow. Think how thou stabbed'st me in my prime of youth At Tewkesbury. Despair therefore, and die! [(To Richmond.)] Be cheerful, Richmond, for the wronged souls Of butchered princes fight in thy behalf. King Henry's issue, Richmond, comforts thee. [He exits.] [Enter the Ghost of Henry the Sixth.] GHOST OF HENRY, [to Richard] When I was mortal, my anointed body By thee was punched full of deadly holes. Think on the Tower and me. Despair and die! Harry the Sixth bids thee despair and die. [(To Richmond.)] Virtuous and holy, be thou conqueror. Harry, that prophesied thou shouldst be king, Doth comfort thee in thy sleep. Live and flourish. [He exits.] [Enter the Ghost of Clarence.] GHOST OF CLARENCE, [to Richard] Let me sit heavy in thy soul tomorrow, I, that was washed to death with fulsome wine, Poor Clarence, by thy guile betrayed to death. Tomorrow in the battle think on me, And fall thy edgeless sword. Despair and die! [(To Richmond.)] Thou offspring of the house of Lancaster, The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee. Good angels guard thy battle. Live and flourish. [He exits.] [Enter the Ghosts of Rivers, Grey, and Vaughan.] GHOST OF RIVERS, [to Richard] Let me sit heavy in thy soul tomorrow, Rivers, that died at Pomfret. Despair and die! GHOST OF GREY, [to Richard] Think upon Grey, and let thy soul despair! GHOST OF VAUGHAN, [to Richard] Think upon Vaughan, and with guilty fear Let fall thy lance. Despair and die! ALL, [to Richmond] Awake, and think our wrongs in Richard's bosom Will conquer him. Awake, and win the day. [They exit.] [Enter the Ghosts of the two young Princes.] GHOSTS OF PRINCES, [to Richard] Dream on thy cousins smothered in the Tower. Let us be lead within thy bosom, Richard, And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death. Thy nephews' souls bid thee despair and die. [(To Richmond.)] Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace and wake in joy. Good angels guard thee from the boar's annoy. Live, and beget a happy race of kings. Edward's unhappy sons do bid thee flourish. [They exit.] [Enter the Ghost of Hastings.] GHOST OF HASTINGS, [to Richard] Bloody and guilty, guiltily awake, And in a bloody battle end thy days. Think on Lord Hastings. Despair and die! [(To Richmond.)] Quiet, untroubled soul, awake, awake. Arm, fight, and conquer for fair England's sake. [He exits.] [Enter the Ghost of Lady Anne his wife.] GHOST OF ANNE, [to Richard] Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne thy wife, That never slept a quiet hour with thee, Now fills thy sleep with perturbations. Tomorrow, in the battle, think on me, And fall thy edgeless sword. Despair and die! [(To Richmond.)] Thou quiet soul, sleep thou a quiet sleep. Dream of success and happy victory. Thy adversary's wife doth pray for thee. [She exits.] [Enter the Ghost of Buckingham.] GHOST OF BUCKINGHAM, [to Richard] The first was I that helped thee to the crown; The last was I that felt thy tyranny. O, in the battle think on Buckingham, And die in terror of thy guiltiness. Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death. Fainting, despair; despairing, yield thy breath. [(To Richmond.)] I died for hope ere I could lend thee aid, But cheer thy heart, and be thou not dismayed. God and good angels fight on Richmond's side, And Richard fall in height of all his pride. [He exits.] [Richard starteth up out of a dream.] RICHARD Give me another horse! Bind up my wounds! Have mercy, Jesu!--Soft, I did but dream. O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me! The lights burn blue; it is now dead midnight. Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. What do I fear? Myself? There's none else by. Richard loves Richard, that is, I am I. Is there a murderer here? No. Yes, I am. Then fly! What, from myself? Great reason why: Lest I revenge. What, myself upon myself? Alack, I love myself. Wherefore? For any good That I myself have done unto myself? O, no. Alas, I rather hate myself For hateful deeds committed by myself. I am a villain. Yet I lie; I am not. Fool, of thyself speak well. Fool, do not flatter. My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the highest degree; Murder, stern murder, in the direst degree; All several sins, all used in each degree, Throng to the bar, crying all "Guilty, guilty!" I shall despair. There is no creature loves me, And if I die no soul will pity me. And wherefore should they, since that I myself Find in myself no pity to myself? Methought the souls of all that I had murdered Came to my tent, and every one did threat Tomorrow's vengeance on the head of Richard. [Enter Ratcliffe.] RATCLIFFE My lord. RICHARD Zounds, who is there? RATCLIFFE Ratcliffe, my lord, 'tis I. The early village cock Hath twice done salutation to the morn. Your friends are up and buckle on their armor. RICHARD O Ratcliffe, I have dreamed a fearful dream! What think'st thou, will our friends prove all true? RATCLIFFE No doubt, my lord. RICHARD O Ratcliffe, I fear, I fear. RATCLIFFE Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of shadows. RICHARD By the apostle Paul, shadows tonight Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers Armed in proof and led by shallow Richmond. 'Tis not yet near day. Come, go with me. Under our tents I'll play the eavesdropper To see if any mean to shrink from me. [Richard and Ratcliffe exit.] [Enter the Lords to Richmond, in his tent.] LORDS Good morrow, Richmond. RICHMOND Cry mercy, lords and watchful gentlemen, That you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here. A LORD How have you slept, my lord? RICHMOND The sweetest sleep and fairest-boding dreams That ever entered in a drowsy head Have I since your departure had, my lords. Methought their souls whose bodies Richard murdered Came to my tent and cried on victory. I promise you, my soul is very jocund In the remembrance of so fair a dream. How far into the morning is it, lords? A LORD Upon the stroke of four. RICHMOND, [leaving the tent] Why, then 'tis time to arm and give direction. His oration to his soldiers. More than I have said, loving countrymen, The leisure and enforcement of the time Forbids to dwell upon. Yet remember this: God, and our good cause, fight upon our side. The prayers of holy saints and wronged souls, Like high-reared bulwarks, stand before our faces. Richard except, those whom we fight against Had rather have us win than him they follow. For what is he they follow? Truly, gentlemen, A bloody tyrant and a homicide; One raised in blood, and one in blood established; One that made means to come by what he hath, And slaughtered those that were the means to help him; A base foul stone, made precious by the foil Of England's chair, where he is falsely set; One that hath ever been God's enemy. Then if you fight against God's enemy, God will, in justice, ward you as his soldiers. If you do sweat to put a tyrant down, You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain. If you do fight against your country's foes, Your country's fat shall pay your pains the hire. If you do fight in safeguard of your wives, Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors. If you do free your children from the sword, Your children's children quits it in your age. Then, in the name of God and all these rights, Advance your standards; draw your willing swords. For me, the ransom of my bold attempt Shall be this cold corpse on the Earth's cold face, But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt The least of you shall share his part thereof. Sound drums and trumpets boldly and cheerfully. God, and Saint George, Richmond, and victory! [They exit.] [Enter King Richard, Ratcliffe, and Soldiers.] RICHARD What said Northumberland as touching Richmond? RATCLIFFE That he was never trained up in arms. RICHARD He said the truth. And what said Surrey then? RATCLIFFE He smiled and said "The better for our purpose." RICHARD He was in the right, and so indeed it is. [The clock striketh.] Tell the clock there. Give me a calendar. [He looks in an almanac.] Who saw the sun today? RATCLIFFE Not I, my lord. RICHARD Then he disdains to shine, for by the book He should have braved the east an hour ago. A black day will it be to somebody. Ratcliffe! RATCLIFFE My lord. RICHARD The sun will not be seen today. The sky doth frown and lour upon our army. I would these dewy tears were from the ground. Not shine today? Why, what is that to me More than to Richmond, for the selfsame heaven That frowns on me looks sadly upon him. [Enter Norfolk.] NORFOLK Arm, arm, my lord. The foe vaunts in the field. RICHARD Come, bustle, bustle. Caparison my horse.-- Call up Lord Stanley; bid him bring his power.-- I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain, And thus my battle shall be ordered: My foreward shall be drawn out all in length, Consisting equally of horse and foot; Our archers shall be placed in the midst. John Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Earl of Surrey, Shall have the leading of this foot and horse. They thus directed, we will follow In the main battle, whose puissance on either side Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse. This, and Saint George to boot!--What think'st thou, Norfolk? NORFOLK A good direction, warlike sovereign. [He sheweth him a paper.] This found I on my tent this morning. RICHARD [reads] Jockey of Norfolk, be not so bold. For Dickon thy master is bought and sold. A thing devised by the enemy.-- Go, gentlemen, every man unto his charge. Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls. Conscience is but a word that cowards use, Devised at first to keep the strong in awe. Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law. March on. Join bravely. Let us to it pell mell, If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell. His oration to his army. What shall I say more than I have inferred? Remember whom you are to cope withal, A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and runaways, A scum of Bretons and base lackey peasants, Whom their o'ercloyed country vomits forth To desperate adventures and assured destruction. You sleeping safe, they bring to you unrest; You having lands and blessed with beauteous wives, They would restrain the one, distain the other. And who doth lead them but a paltry fellow, Long kept in Brittany at our mother's cost, A milksop, one that never in his life Felt so much cold as overshoes in snow? Let's whip these stragglers o'er the seas again, Lash hence these overweening rags of France, These famished beggars weary of their lives, Who, but for dreaming on this fond exploit, For want of means, poor rats, had hanged themselves. If we be conquered, let men conquer us, And not these bastard Bretons, whom our fathers Have in their own land beaten, bobbed, and thumped, And in record left them the heirs of shame. Shall these enjoy our lands, lie with our wives, Ravish our daughters? [Drum afar off.] Hark, I hear their drum. Fight, gentlemen of England.--Fight, bold yeomen.-- Draw, archers; draw your arrows to the head.-- Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood. Amaze the welkin with your broken staves.-- [Enter a Messenger.] What says Lord Stanley? Will he bring his power? MESSENGER My lord, he doth deny to come. RICHARD Off with his son George's head! NORFOLK My lord, the enemy is past the marsh. After the battle let George Stanley die. RICHARD A thousand hearts are great within my bosom. Advance our standards. Set upon our foes. Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons. Upon them! Victory sits on our helms. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Alarum. Excursions. Enter Norfolk, with Soldiers, and Catesby.] CATESBY Rescue, my lord of Norfolk, rescue, rescue! The King enacts more wonders than a man, Daring an opposite to every danger. His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights, Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death. Rescue, fair lord, or else the day is lost. [Norfolk exits with Soldiers.] [Alarums. Enter Richard.] RICHARD A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse! CATESBY Withdraw, my lord. I'll help you to a horse. RICHARD Slave, I have set my life upon a cast, And I will stand the hazard of the die. I think there be six Richmonds in the field; Five have I slain today instead of him. A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse! [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Alarum. Enter Richard and Richmond. They fight. Richard is slain. Then retreat being sounded, Richmond exits, and Richard's body is removed. Flourish. Enter Richmond, Stanley, Earl of Derby, bearing the crown, with other Lords, and Soldiers.] RICHMOND God and your arms be praised, victorious friends! The day is ours; the bloody dog is dead. STANLEY, [offering him the crown] Courageous Richmond, well hast thou acquit thee. Lo, here this long-usurped royalty From the dead temples of this bloody wretch Have I plucked off, to grace thy brows withal. Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it. RICHMOND Great God of heaven, say amen to all! But tell me, is young George Stanley living? STANLEY He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town, Whither, if it please you, we may now withdraw us. RICHMOND What men of name are slain on either side? STANLEY John, Duke of Norfolk, Walter, Lord Ferrers, Sir Robert Brakenbury, and Sir William Brandon. RICHMOND Inter their bodies as becomes their births. Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled That in submission will return to us. And then, as we have ta'en the sacrament, We will unite the white rose and the red; Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction, That long have frowned upon their enmity. What traitor hears me and says not "Amen"? England hath long been mad and scarred herself: The brother blindly shed the brother's blood; The father rashly slaughtered his own son; The son, compelled, been butcher to the sire. All this divided York and Lancaster, Divided in their dire division. O, now let Richmond and Elizabeth, The true succeeders of each royal house, By God's fair ordinance conjoin together, And let their heirs, God, if Thy will be so, Enrich the time to come with smooth-faced peace, With smiling plenty and fair prosperous days. Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord, That would reduce these bloody days again And make poor England weep in streams of blood. Let them not live to taste this land's increase, That would with treason wound this fair land's peace. Now civil wounds are stopped, peace lives again. That she may long live here, God say amen. [They exit.]

Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== ROMEO MONTAGUE, his father LADY MONTAGUE, his mother BENVOLIO, their kinsman ABRAM, a Montague servingman BALTHASAR, Romeo's servingman JULIET CAPULET, her father LADY CAPULET, her mother NURSE to Juliet TYBALT, kinsman to the Capulets PETRUCHIO, Tybalt's companion Capulet's Cousin Servingmen: SAMPSON GREGORY PETER Other Servingmen ESCALUS, Prince of Verona PARIS, the Prince's kinsman and Juliet's suitor MERCUTIO, the Prince's kinsman and Romeo's friend Paris' Page FRIAR LAWRENCE FRIAR JOHN APOTHECARY Three or four Citizens Three Musicians Three Watchmen CHORUS Attendants, Maskers, Torchbearers, a Boy with a drum, Gentlemen, Gentlewomen, Tybalt's Page, Servingmen. THE PROLOGUE ============ [Enter Chorus.] Two households, both alike in dignity (In fair Verona, where we lay our scene), From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life; Whose misadventured piteous overthrows Doth with their death bury their parents' strife. The fearful passage of their death-marked love And the continuance of their parents' rage, Which, but their children's end, naught could remove, Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage; The which, if you with patient ears attend, What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend. [Chorus exits.] ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Sampson and Gregory, with swords and bucklers, of the house of Capulet.] SAMPSON Gregory, on my word we'll not carry coals. GREGORY No, for then we should be colliers. SAMPSON I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw. GREGORY Ay, while you live, draw your neck out of collar. SAMPSON I strike quickly, being moved. GREGORY But thou art not quickly moved to strike. SAMPSON A dog of the house of Montague moves me. GREGORY To move is to stir, and to be valiant is to stand. Therefore if thou art moved thou runn'st away. SAMPSON A dog of that house shall move me to stand. I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's. GREGORY That shows thee a weak slave, for the weakest goes to the wall. SAMPSON 'Tis true, and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall. Therefore I will push Montague's men from the wall and thrust his maids to the wall. GREGORY The quarrel is between our masters and us their men. SAMPSON 'Tis all one. I will show myself a tyrant. When I have fought with the men, I will be civil with the maids; I will cut off their heads. GREGORY The heads of the maids? SAMPSON Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads. Take it in what sense thou wilt. GREGORY They must take it in sense that feel it. SAMPSON Me they shall feel while I am able to stand, and 'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh. GREGORY 'Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou hadst been poor-john. Draw thy tool. Here comes of the house of Montagues. [Enter Abram with another Servingman.] SAMPSON My naked weapon is out. Quarrel, I will back thee. GREGORY How? Turn thy back and run? SAMPSON Fear me not. GREGORY No, marry. I fear thee! SAMPSON Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin. GREGORY I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as they list. SAMPSON Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them, which is disgrace to them if they bear it. [He bites his thumb.] ABRAM Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? SAMPSON I do bite my thumb, sir. ABRAM Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? SAMPSON, [aside to Gregory] Is the law of our side if I say "Ay"? GREGORY, [aside to Sampson] No. SAMPSON No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir, but I bite my thumb, sir. GREGORY Do you quarrel, sir? ABRAM Quarrel, sir? No, sir. SAMPSON But if you do, sir, I am for you. I serve as good a man as you. ABRAM No better. SAMPSON Well, sir. [Enter Benvolio.] GREGORY, [aside to Sampson] Say "better"; here comes one of my master's kinsmen. SAMPSON Yes, better, sir. ABRAM You lie. SAMPSON Draw if you be men.--Gregory, remember thy washing blow. [They fight.] BENVOLIO Part, fools! [Drawing his sword.] Put up your swords. You know not what you do. [Enter Tybalt, drawing his sword.] TYBALT What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? Turn thee, Benvolio; look upon thy death. BENVOLIO I do but keep the peace. Put up thy sword, Or manage it to part these men with me. TYBALT What, drawn and talk of peace? I hate the word As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee. Have at thee, coward! [They fight.] [Enter three or four Citizens with clubs or partisans.] CITIZENS Clubs, bills, and partisans! Strike! Beat them down! Down with the Capulets! Down with the Montagues! [Enter old Capulet in his gown, and his Wife.] CAPULET What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho! LADY CAPULET A crutch, a crutch! Why call you for a sword? [Enter old Montague and his Wife.] CAPULET My sword, I say. Old Montague is come And flourishes his blade in spite of me. MONTAGUE Thou villain Capulet!--Hold me not; let me go. LADY MONTAGUE Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe. [Enter Prince Escalus with his train.] PRINCE Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, Profaners of this neighbor-stained steel-- Will they not hear?--What ho! You men, you beasts, That quench the fire of your pernicious rage With purple fountains issuing from your veins: On pain of torture, from those bloody hands Throw your mistempered weapons to the ground, And hear the sentence of your moved prince. Three civil brawls bred of an airy word By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, Have thrice disturbed the quiet of our streets And made Verona's ancient citizens Cast by their grave-beseeming ornaments To wield old partisans in hands as old, Cankered with peace, to part your cankered hate. If ever you disturb our streets again, Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. For this time all the rest depart away. You, Capulet, shall go along with me, And, Montague, come you this afternoon To know our farther pleasure in this case, To old Free-town, our common judgment-place. Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. [All but Montague, Lady Montague, and Benvolio exit.] MONTAGUE, [to Benvolio] Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach? Speak, nephew, were you by when it began? BENVOLIO Here were the servants of your adversary, And yours, close fighting ere I did approach. I drew to part them. In the instant came The fiery Tybalt with his sword prepared, Which, as he breathed defiance to my ears, He swung about his head and cut the winds, Who, nothing hurt withal, hissed him in scorn. While we were interchanging thrusts and blows Came more and more and fought on part and part, Till the Prince came, who parted either part. LADY MONTAGUE O, where is Romeo? Saw you him today? Right glad I am he was not at this fray. BENVOLIO Madam, an hour before the worshiped sun Peered forth the golden window of the east, A troubled mind drove me to walk abroad, Where underneath the grove of sycamore That westward rooteth from this city side, So early walking did I see your son. Towards him I made, but he was 'ware of me And stole into the covert of the wood. I, measuring his affections by my own (Which then most sought where most might not be found, Being one too many by my weary self), Pursued my humor, not pursuing his, And gladly shunned who gladly fled from me. MONTAGUE Many a morning hath he there been seen, With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew, Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs. But all so soon as the all-cheering sun Should in the farthest east begin to draw The shady curtains from Aurora's bed, Away from light steals home my heavy son And private in his chamber pens himself, Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out, And makes himself an artificial night. Black and portentous must this humor prove, Unless good counsel may the cause remove. BENVOLIO My noble uncle, do you know the cause? MONTAGUE I neither know it nor can learn of him. BENVOLIO Have you importuned him by any means? MONTAGUE Both by myself and many other friends. But he, his own affections' counselor, Is to himself--I will not say how true, But to himself so secret and so close, So far from sounding and discovery, As is the bud bit with an envious worm Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air Or dedicate his beauty to the same. Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, We would as willingly give cure as know. [Enter Romeo.] BENVOLIO See where he comes. So please you, step aside. I'll know his grievance or be much denied. MONTAGUE I would thou wert so happy by thy stay To hear true shrift.--Come, madam, let's away. [Montague and Lady Montague exit.] BENVOLIO Good morrow, cousin. ROMEO Is the day so young? BENVOLIO But new struck nine. ROMEO Ay me, sad hours seem long. Was that my father that went hence so fast? BENVOLIO It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? ROMEO Not having that which, having, makes them short. BENVOLIO In love? ROMEO Out-- BENVOLIO Of love? ROMEO Out of her favor where I am in love. BENVOLIO Alas that love, so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! ROMEO Alas that love, whose view is muffled still, Should without eyes see pathways to his will! Where shall we dine?--O me! What fray was here? Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. Here's much to do with hate, but more with love. Why then, O brawling love, O loving hate, O anything of nothing first create! O heavy lightness, serious vanity, Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms, Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health, Still-waking sleep that is not what it is! This love feel I, that feel no love in this. Dost thou not laugh? BENVOLIO No, coz, I rather weep. ROMEO Good heart, at what? BENVOLIO At thy good heart's oppression. ROMEO Why, such is love's transgression. Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, Which thou wilt propagate to have it pressed With more of thine. This love that thou hast shown Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs; Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vexed, a sea nourished with loving tears. What is it else? A madness most discreet, A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. Farewell, my coz. BENVOLIO Soft, I will go along. An if you leave me so, you do me wrong. ROMEO Tut, I have lost myself. I am not here. This is not Romeo. He's some other where. BENVOLIO Tell me in sadness, who is that you love? ROMEO What, shall I groan and tell thee? BENVOLIO Groan? Why, no. But sadly tell me who. ROMEO A sick man in sadness makes his will-- A word ill urged to one that is so ill. In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. BENVOLIO I aimed so near when I supposed you loved. ROMEO A right good markman! And she's fair I love. BENVOLIO A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. ROMEO Well in that hit you miss. She'll not be hit With Cupid's arrow. She hath Dian's wit, And, in strong proof of chastity well armed, From love's weak childish bow she lives uncharmed. She will not stay the siege of loving terms, Nor bide th' encounter of assailing eyes, Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold. O, she is rich in beauty, only poor That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store. BENVOLIO Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste? ROMEO She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste; For beauty, starved with her severity, Cuts beauty off from all posterity. She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair, To merit bliss by making me despair. She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow Do I live dead, that live to tell it now. BENVOLIO Be ruled by me. Forget to think of her. ROMEO O, teach me how I should forget to think! BENVOLIO By giving liberty unto thine eyes. Examine other beauties. ROMEO 'Tis the way To call hers, exquisite, in question more. These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows, Being black, puts us in mind they hide the fair. He that is strucken blind cannot forget The precious treasure of his eyesight lost. Show me a mistress that is passing fair; What doth her beauty serve but as a note Where I may read who passed that passing fair? Farewell. Thou canst not teach me to forget. BENVOLIO I'll pay that doctrine or else die in debt. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Capulet, County Paris, and a Servingman.] CAPULET But Montague is bound as well as I, In penalty alike, and 'tis not hard, I think, For men so old as we to keep the peace. PARIS Of honorable reckoning are you both, And pity 'tis you lived at odds so long. But now, my lord, what say you to my suit? CAPULET But saying o'er what I have said before. My child is yet a stranger in the world. She hath not seen the change of fourteen years. Let two more summers wither in their pride Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. PARIS Younger than she are happy mothers made. CAPULET And too soon marred are those so early made. Earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she; She's the hopeful lady of my earth. But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart; My will to her consent is but a part. And, she agreed, within her scope of choice Lies my consent and fair according voice. This night I hold an old accustomed feast, Whereto I have invited many a guest Such as I love; and you among the store, One more, most welcome, makes my number more. At my poor house look to behold this night Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light. Such comfort as do lusty young men feel When well-appareled April on the heel Of limping winter treads, even such delight Among fresh fennel buds shall you this night Inherit at my house. Hear all, all see, And like her most whose merit most shall be; Which, on more view of many, mine, being one, May stand in number, though in reck'ning none. Come go with me. [To Servingman, giving him a list.] Go, sirrah, trudge about Through fair Verona, find those persons out Whose names are written there, and to them say My house and welcome on their pleasure stay. [Capulet and Paris exit.] SERVINGMAN Find them out whose names are written here! It is written that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard and the tailor with his last, the fisher with his pencil and the painter with his nets. But I am sent to find those persons whose names are here writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the learned. In good time! [Enter Benvolio and Romeo.] BENVOLIO, [to Romeo] Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning; One pain is lessened by another's anguish. Turn giddy, and be helped by backward turning. One desperate grief cures with another's languish. Take thou some new infection to thy eye, And the rank poison of the old will die. ROMEO Your plantain leaf is excellent for that. BENVOLIO For what, I pray thee? ROMEO For your broken shin. BENVOLIO Why Romeo, art thou mad? ROMEO Not mad, but bound more than a madman is, Shut up in prison, kept without my food, Whipped and tormented, and--good e'en, good fellow. SERVINGMAN God gi' good e'en. I pray, sir, can you read? ROMEO Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. SERVINGMAN Perhaps you have learned it without book. But I pray, can you read anything you see? ROMEO Ay, if I know the letters and the language. SERVINGMAN You say honestly. Rest you merry. ROMEO Stay, fellow. I can read. [(He reads the letter.)] Signior Martino and his wife and daughters, County Anselme and his beauteous sisters, The lady widow of Vitruvio, Signior Placentio and his lovely nieces, Mercutio and his brother Valentine, Mine Uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters, My fair niece Rosaline and Livia, Signior Valentio and his cousin Tybalt, Lucio and the lively Helena. A fair assembly. Whither should they come? SERVINGMAN Up. ROMEO Whither? To supper? SERVINGMAN To our house. ROMEO Whose house? SERVINGMAN My master's. ROMEO Indeed I should have asked thee that before. SERVINGMAN Now I'll tell you without asking. My master is the great rich Capulet, and, if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry. [He exits.] BENVOLIO At this same ancient feast of Capulet's Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so loves, With all the admired beauties of Verona. Go thither, and with unattainted eye Compare her face with some that I shall show, And I will make thee think thy swan a crow. ROMEO When the devout religion of mine eye Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fire; And these who, often drowned, could never die, Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars. One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun. BENVOLIO Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by, Herself poised with herself in either eye; But in that crystal scales let there be weighed Your lady's love against some other maid That I will show you shining at this feast, And she shall scant show well that now seems best. ROMEO I'll go along, no such sight to be shown, But to rejoice in splendor of mine own. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse.] LADY CAPULET Nurse, where's my daughter? Call her forth to me. NURSE Now, by my maidenhead at twelve year old, I bade her come.--What, lamb! What, ladybird! God forbid. Where's this girl? What, Juliet! [Enter Juliet.] JULIET How now, who calls? NURSE Your mother. JULIET Madam, I am here. What is your will? LADY CAPULET This is the matter.--Nurse, give leave awhile. We must talk in secret.--Nurse, come back again. I have remembered me, thou 's hear our counsel. Thou knowest my daughter's of a pretty age. NURSE Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour. LADY CAPULET She's not fourteen. NURSE I'll lay fourteen of my teeth (and yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but four) she's not fourteen. How long is it now to Lammastide? LADY CAPULET A fortnight and odd days. NURSE Even or odd, of all days in the year, Come Lammas Eve at night shall she be fourteen. Susan and she (God rest all Christian souls!) Were of an age. Well, Susan is with God; She was too good for me. But, as I said, On Lammas Eve at night shall she be fourteen. That shall she. Marry, I remember it well. 'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years, And she was weaned (I never shall forget it) Of all the days of the year, upon that day. For I had then laid wormwood to my dug, Sitting in the sun under the dovehouse wall. My lord and you were then at Mantua. Nay, I do bear a brain. But, as I said, When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool, To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug. "Shake," quoth the dovehouse. 'Twas no need, I trow, To bid me trudge. And since that time it is eleven years. For then she could stand high-lone. Nay, by th' rood, She could have run and waddled all about, For even the day before, she broke her brow, And then my husband (God be with his soul, He was a merry man) took up the child. "Yea," quoth he, "Dost thou fall upon thy face? Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit, Wilt thou not, Jule?" And, by my holidam, The pretty wretch left crying and said "Ay." To see now how a jest shall come about! I warrant, an I should live a thousand years, I never should forget it. "Wilt thou not, Jule?" quoth he. And, pretty fool, it stinted and said "Ay." LADY CAPULET Enough of this. I pray thee, hold thy peace. NURSE Yes, madam, yet I cannot choose but laugh To think it should leave crying and say "Ay." And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow A bump as big as a young cock'rel's stone, A perilous knock, and it cried bitterly. "Yea," quoth my husband. "Fall'st upon thy face? Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age, Wilt thou not, Jule?" It stinted and said "Ay." JULIET And stint thou, too, I pray thee, nurse, say I. NURSE Peace. I have done. God mark thee to his grace, Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed. An I might live to see thee married once, I have my wish. LADY CAPULET Marry, that "marry" is the very theme I came to talk of.--Tell me, daughter Juliet, How stands your disposition to be married? JULIET It is an honor that I dream not of. NURSE An honor? Were not I thine only nurse, I would say thou hadst sucked wisdom from thy teat. LADY CAPULET Well, think of marriage now. Younger than you Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, Are made already mothers. By my count I was your mother much upon these years That you are now a maid. Thus, then, in brief: The valiant Paris seeks you for his love. NURSE A man, young lady--lady, such a man As all the world--why, he's a man of wax. LADY CAPULET Verona's summer hath not such a flower. NURSE Nay, he's a flower, in faith, a very flower. LADY CAPULET What say you? Can you love the gentleman? This night you shall behold him at our feast. Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face, And find delight writ there with beauty's pen. Examine every married lineament And see how one another lends content, And what obscured in this fair volume lies Find written in the margent of his eyes. This precious book of love, this unbound lover, To beautify him only lacks a cover. The fish lives in the sea, and 'tis much pride For fair without the fair within to hide. That book in many's eyes doth share the glory That in gold clasps locks in the golden story. So shall you share all that he doth possess By having him, making yourself no less. NURSE No less? Nay, bigger. Women grow by men. LADY CAPULET Speak briefly. Can you like of Paris' love? JULIET I'll look to like, if looking liking move. But no more deep will I endart mine eye Than your consent gives strength to make it fly. [Enter Servingman.] SERVINGMAN Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you called, my young lady asked for, the Nurse cursed in the pantry, and everything in extremity. I must hence to wait. I beseech you, follow straight. LADY CAPULET We follow thee. [Servingman exits.] Juliet, the County stays. NURSE Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or six other Maskers, Torchbearers, and a Boy with a drum.] ROMEO What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse? Or shall we on without apology? BENVOLIO The date is out of such prolixity. We'll have no Cupid hoodwinked with a scarf, Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, Scaring the ladies like a crowkeeper, Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke After the prompter, for our entrance. But let them measure us by what they will. We'll measure them a measure and be gone. ROMEO Give me a torch. I am not for this ambling. Being but heavy I will bear the light. MERCUTIO Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance. ROMEO Not I, believe me. You have dancing shoes With nimble soles. I have a soul of lead So stakes me to the ground I cannot move. MERCUTIO You are a lover. Borrow Cupid's wings And soar with them above a common bound. ROMEO I am too sore enpierced with his shaft To soar with his light feathers, and so bound I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe. Under love's heavy burden do I sink. MERCUTIO And to sink in it should you burden love-- Too great oppression for a tender thing. ROMEO Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, Too rude, too boist'rous, and it pricks like thorn. MERCUTIO If love be rough with you, be rough with love. Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.-- Give me a case to put my visage in.-- A visor for a visor. What care I What curious eye doth cote deformities? Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me. BENVOLIO Come, knock and enter, and no sooner in But every man betake him to his legs. ROMEO A torch for me. Let wantons light of heart Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels, For I am proverbed with a grandsire phrase: I'll be a candle holder and look on; The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done. MERCUTIO Tut, dun's the mouse, the constable's own word. If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire-- Or, save your reverence, love--wherein thou stickest Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho! ROMEO Nay, that's not so. MERCUTIO I mean, sir, in delay We waste our lights; in vain, light lights by day. Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits Five times in that ere once in our five wits. ROMEO And we mean well in going to this masque, But 'tis no wit to go. MERCUTIO Why, may one ask? ROMEO I dreamt a dream tonight. MERCUTIO And so did I. ROMEO Well, what was yours? MERCUTIO That dreamers often lie. ROMEO In bed asleep while they do dream things true. MERCUTIO O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomi Over men's noses as they lie asleep. Her wagon spokes made of long spinners' legs, The cover of the wings of grasshoppers, Her traces of the smallest spider web, Her collars of the moonshine's wat'ry beams, Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film, Her wagoner a small gray-coated gnat, Not half so big as a round little worm Pricked from the lazy finger of a maid. Her chariot is an empty hazelnut, Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love; On courtiers' knees, that dream on cur'sies straight; O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees; O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream, Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are. Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, And then dreams he of smelling out a suit. And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail, Tickling a parson's nose as he lies asleep; Then he dreams of another benefice. Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Of healths five fathom deep, and then anon Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two And sleeps again. This is that very Mab That plats the manes of horses in the night And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs, Which once untangled much misfortune bodes. This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, That presses them and learns them first to bear, Making them women of good carriage. This is she-- ROMEO Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace. Thou talk'st of nothing. MERCUTIO True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air And more inconstant than the wind, who woos Even now the frozen bosom of the north And, being angered, puffs away from thence, Turning his side to the dew-dropping south. BENVOLIO This wind you talk of blows us from ourselves. Supper is done, and we shall come too late. ROMEO I fear too early, for my mind misgives Some consequence yet hanging in the stars Shall bitterly begin his fearful date With this night's revels, and expire the term Of a despised life closed in my breast By some vile forfeit of untimely death. But he that hath the steerage of my course Direct my sail. On, lusty gentlemen. BENVOLIO Strike, drum. [They march about the stage and then withdraw to the side.] Scene 5 ======= [Servingmen come forth with napkins.] FIRST SERVINGMAN Where's Potpan that he helps not to take away? He shift a trencher? He scrape a trencher? SECOND SERVINGMAN When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's hands, and they unwashed too, 'tis a foul thing. FIRST SERVINGMAN Away with the joint stools, remove the court cupboard, look to the plate.-- Good thou, save me a piece of marchpane, and, as thou loves me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell.--Anthony and Potpan! THIRD SERVINGMAN Ay, boy, ready. FIRST SERVINGMAN You are looked for and called for, asked for and sought for, in the great chamber. THIRD SERVINGMAN We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys! Be brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all. [They move aside.] [Enter Capulet and his household, all the guests and gentlewomen to Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, and the other Maskers.] CAPULET Welcome, gentlemen. Ladies that have their toes Unplagued with corns will walk a bout with you.-- Ah, my mistresses, which of you all Will now deny to dance? She that makes dainty, She, I'll swear, hath corns. Am I come near you now?-- Welcome, gentlemen. I have seen the day That I have worn a visor and could tell A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear, Such as would please. 'Tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone. You are welcome, gentlemen.--Come, musicians, play. [Music plays and they dance.] A hall, a hall, give room!--And foot it, girls.-- More light, you knaves, and turn the tables up, And quench the fire; the room is grown too hot.-- Ah, sirrah, this unlooked-for sport comes well.-- Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet, For you and I are past our dancing days. How long is 't now since last yourself and I Were in a mask? CAPULET'S COUSIN By 'r Lady, thirty years. CAPULET What, man, 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much. 'Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio, Come Pentecost as quickly as it will, Some five and twenty years, and then we masked. CAPULET'S COUSIN 'Tis more, 'tis more. His son is elder, sir. His son is thirty. CAPULET Will you tell me that? His son was but a ward two years ago. ROMEO, [to a Servingman] What lady's that which doth enrich the hand Of yonder knight? SERVINGMAN I know not, sir. ROMEO O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night As a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear-- Beauty too rich for use, for Earth too dear. So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight, For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night. TYBALT This, by his voice, should be a Montague.-- Fetch me my rapier, boy. [Page exits.] What, dares the slave Come hither covered with an antic face To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? Now, by the stock and honor of my kin, To strike him dead I hold it not a sin. CAPULET Why, how now, kinsman? Wherefore storm you so? TYBALT Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe, A villain that is hither come in spite To scorn at our solemnity this night. CAPULET Young Romeo is it? TYBALT 'Tis he, that villain Romeo. CAPULET Content thee, gentle coz. Let him alone. He bears him like a portly gentleman, And, to say truth, Verona brags of him To be a virtuous and well-governed youth. I would not for the wealth of all this town Here in my house do him disparagement. Therefore be patient. Take no note of him. It is my will, the which if thou respect, Show a fair presence and put off these frowns, An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast. TYBALT It fits when such a villain is a guest. I'll not endure him. CAPULET He shall be endured. What, goodman boy? I say he shall. Go to. Am I the master here or you? Go to. You'll not endure him! God shall mend my soul, You'll make a mutiny among my guests, You will set cock-a-hoop, you'll be the man! TYBALT Why, uncle, 'tis a shame. CAPULET Go to, go to. You are a saucy boy. Is 't so indeed? This trick may chance to scathe you. I know what. You must contrary me. Marry, 'tis time-- Well said, my hearts.--You are a princox, go. Be quiet, or--More light, more light!--for shame, I'll make you quiet.--What, cheerly, my hearts! TYBALT Patience perforce with willful choler meeting Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. I will withdraw, but this intrusion shall, Now seeming sweet, convert to bitt'rest gall. [He exits.] ROMEO, [taking Juliet's hand] If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. JULIET Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. ROMEO Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? JULIET Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. ROMEO O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray: grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. JULIET Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake. ROMEO Then move not while my prayer's effect I take. [He kisses her.] Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged. JULIET Then have my lips the sin that they have took. ROMEO Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again. [He kisses her.] JULIET You kiss by th' book. NURSE Madam, your mother craves a word with you. [Juliet moves toward her mother.] ROMEO What is her mother? NURSE Marry, bachelor, Her mother is the lady of the house, And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous. I nursed her daughter that you talked withal. I tell you, he that can lay hold of her Shall have the chinks. [Nurse moves away.] ROMEO, [aside] Is she a Capulet? O dear account! My life is my foe's debt. BENVOLIO Away, begone. The sport is at the best. ROMEO Ay, so I fear. The more is my unrest. CAPULET Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone. We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.-- Is it e'en so? Why then, I thank you all. I thank you, honest gentlemen. Good night.-- More torches here.--Come on then, let's to bed.-- Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late. I'll to my rest. [All but Juliet and the Nurse begin to exit.] JULIET Come hither, nurse. What is yond gentleman? NURSE The son and heir of old Tiberio. JULIET What's he that now is going out of door? NURSE Marry, that, I think, be young Petruchio. JULIET What's he that follows here, that would not dance? NURSE I know not. JULIET Go ask his name. [The Nurse goes.] If he be married, My grave is like to be my wedding bed. NURSE, [returning] His name is Romeo, and a Montague, The only son of your great enemy. JULIET My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me That I must love a loathed enemy. NURSE What's this? What's this? JULIET A rhyme I learned even now Of one I danced withal. [One calls within "Juliet."] NURSE Anon, anon. Come, let's away. The strangers all are gone. [They exit.] ACT 2 ===== [Enter Chorus.] Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie, And young affection gapes to be his heir. That fair for which love groaned for and would die, With tender Juliet matched, is now not fair. Now Romeo is beloved and loves again, Alike bewitched by the charm of looks, But to his foe supposed he must complain, And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks. Being held a foe, he may not have access To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear, And she as much in love, her means much less To meet her new beloved anywhere. But passion lends them power, time means, to meet, Temp'ring extremities with extreme sweet. [Chorus exits.] Scene 1 ======= [Enter Romeo alone.] ROMEO Can I go forward when my heart is here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy center out. [He withdraws.] [Enter Benvolio with Mercutio.] BENVOLIO Romeo, my cousin Romeo, Romeo! MERCUTIO He is wise And, on my life, hath stol'n him home to bed. BENVOLIO He ran this way and leapt this orchard wall. Call, good Mercutio. MERCUTIO Nay, I'll conjure too. Romeo! Humors! Madman! Passion! Lover! Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh. Speak but one rhyme and I am satisfied. Cry but "Ay me," pronounce but "love" and "dove." Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word, One nickname for her purblind son and heir, Young Abraham Cupid, he that shot so trim When King Cophetua loved the beggar maid.-- He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not. The ape is dead, and I must conjure him.-- I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes, By her high forehead, and her scarlet lip, By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh, And the demesnes that there adjacent lie, That in thy likeness thou appear to us. BENVOLIO An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. MERCUTIO This cannot anger him. 'Twould anger him To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle Of some strange nature, letting it there stand Till she had laid it and conjured it down. That were some spite. My invocation Is fair and honest. In his mistress' name, I conjure only but to raise up him. BENVOLIO Come, he hath hid himself among these trees To be consorted with the humorous night. Blind is his love and best befits the dark. MERCUTIO If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. Now will he sit under a medlar tree And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit As maids call medlars when they laugh alone.-- O Romeo, that she were, O, that she were An open-arse, thou a pop'rin pear. Romeo, good night. I'll to my truckle bed; This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep.-- Come, shall we go? BENVOLIO Go, then, for 'tis in vain To seek him here that means not to be found. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Romeo comes forward.] ROMEO He jests at scars that never felt a wound. [Enter Juliet above.] But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. Be not her maid since she is envious. Her vestal livery is but sick and green, And none but fools do wear it. Cast it off. It is my lady. O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were! She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that? Her eye discourses; I will answer it. I am too bold. 'Tis not to me she speaks. Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night. See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek! JULIET Ay me. ROMEO, [aside] She speaks. O, speak again, bright angel, for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him When he bestrides the lazy puffing clouds And sails upon the bosom of the air. JULIET O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name, Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet. ROMEO, [aside] Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this? JULIET 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy. Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face. O, be some other name Belonging to a man. What's in a name? That which we call a rose By any other word would smell as sweet. So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called, Retain that dear perfection which he owes Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, And, for thy name, which is no part of thee, Take all myself. ROMEO I take thee at thy word. Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized. Henceforth I never will be Romeo. JULIET What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night, So stumblest on my counsel? ROMEO By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am. My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself Because it is an enemy to thee. Had I it written, I would tear the word. JULIET My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words Of thy tongue's uttering, yet I know the sound. Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague? ROMEO Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike. JULIET How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, And the place death, considering who thou art, If any of my kinsmen find thee here. ROMEO With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls, For stony limits cannot hold love out, And what love can do, that dares love attempt. Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me. JULIET If they do see thee, they will murder thee. ROMEO Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye Than twenty of their swords. Look thou but sweet, And I am proof against their enmity. JULIET I would not for the world they saw thee here. ROMEO I have night's cloak to hide me from their eyes, And, but thou love me, let them find me here. My life were better ended by their hate Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love. JULIET By whose direction found'st thou out this place? ROMEO By love, that first did prompt me to inquire. He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far As that vast shore washed with the farthest sea, I should adventure for such merchandise. JULIET Thou knowest the mask of night is on my face, Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek For that which thou hast heard me speak tonight. Fain would I dwell on form; fain, fain deny What I have spoke. But farewell compliment. Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say "Ay," And I will take thy word. Yet, if thou swear'st, Thou mayst prove false. At lovers' perjuries, They say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo, If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully. Or, if thou thinkest I am too quickly won, I'll frown and be perverse and say thee nay, So thou wilt woo, but else not for the world. In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond, And therefore thou mayst think my havior light. But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true Than those that have more coying to be strange. I should have been more strange, I must confess, But that thou overheard'st ere I was ware My true-love passion. Therefore pardon me, And not impute this yielding to light love, Which the dark night hath so discovered. ROMEO Lady, by yonder blessed moon I vow, That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops-- JULIET O, swear not by the moon, th' inconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. ROMEO What shall I swear by? JULIET Do not swear at all. Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, Which is the god of my idolatry, And I'll believe thee. ROMEO If my heart's dear love-- JULIET Well, do not swear. Although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract tonight. It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden, Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be Ere one can say "It lightens." Sweet, good night. This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. Good night, good night. As sweet repose and rest Come to thy heart as that within my breast. ROMEO O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied? JULIET What satisfaction canst thou have tonight? ROMEO Th' exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine. JULIET I gave thee mine before thou didst request it, And yet I would it were to give again. ROMEO Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love? JULIET But to be frank and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have. My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep. The more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite. [Nurse calls from within.] I hear some noise within. Dear love, adieu.-- Anon, good nurse.--Sweet Montague, be true. Stay but a little; I will come again. [She exits.] ROMEO O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard, Being in night, all this is but a dream, Too flattering sweet to be substantial. [Reenter Juliet above.] JULIET Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed. If that thy bent of love be honorable, Thy purpose marriage, send me word tomorrow, By one that I'll procure to come to thee, Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite, And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay And follow thee my lord throughout the world. NURSE, [within] Madam. JULIET I come anon.--But if thou meanest not well, I do beseech thee-- NURSE, [within] Madam. JULIET By and by, I come.-- To cease thy strife and leave me to my grief. Tomorrow will I send. ROMEO So thrive my soul-- JULIET A thousand times good night. [She exits.] ROMEO A thousand times the worse to want thy light. Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books, But love from love, toward school with heavy looks. [Going.] [Enter Juliet above again.] JULIET Hist, Romeo, hist! O, for a falc'ner's voice To lure this tassel-gentle back again! Bondage is hoarse and may not speak aloud, Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine With repetition of "My Romeo!" ROMEO It is my soul that calls upon my name. How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, Like softest music to attending ears. JULIET Romeo. ROMEO My dear. JULIET What o'clock tomorrow Shall I send to thee? ROMEO By the hour of nine. JULIET I will not fail. 'Tis twenty year till then. I have forgot why I did call thee back. ROMEO Let me stand here till thou remember it. JULIET I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, Rememb'ring how I love thy company. ROMEO And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget, Forgetting any other home but this. JULIET 'Tis almost morning. I would have thee gone, And yet no farther than a wanton's bird, That lets it hop a little from his hand, Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, And with a silken thread plucks it back again, So loving-jealous of his liberty. ROMEO I would I were thy bird. JULIET Sweet, so would I. Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good night, good night. Parting is such sweet sorrow That I shall say "Good night" till it be morrow. [She exits.] ROMEO Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast. Would I were sleep and peace so sweet to rest. Hence will I to my ghostly friar's close cell, His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. [He exits.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Friar Lawrence alone with a basket.] FRIAR LAWRENCE The gray-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night, Check'ring the eastern clouds with streaks of light, And fleckled darkness like a drunkard reels From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels. Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye, The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry, I must upfill this osier cage of ours With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers. The Earth that's nature's mother is her tomb; What is her burying grave, that is her womb; And from her womb children of divers kind We sucking on her natural bosom find, Many for many virtues excellent, None but for some, and yet all different. O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies In plants, herbs, stones, and their true qualities. For naught so vile that on the Earth doth live But to the Earth some special good doth give; Nor aught so good but, strained from that fair use, Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse. Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied, And vice sometime by action dignified. [Enter Romeo.] Within the infant rind of this weak flower Poison hath residence and medicine power: For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part; Being tasted, stays all senses with the heart. Two such opposed kings encamp them still In man as well as herbs--grace and rude will; And where the worser is predominant, Full soon the canker death eats up that plant. ROMEO Good morrow, father. FRIAR LAWRENCE Benedicite. What early tongue so sweet saluteth me? Young son, it argues a distempered head So soon to bid "Good morrow" to thy bed. Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, And, where care lodges, sleep will never lie; But where unbruised youth with unstuffed brain Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign. Therefore thy earliness doth me assure Thou art uproused with some distemp'rature, Or, if not so, then here I hit it right: Our Romeo hath not been in bed tonight. ROMEO That last is true. The sweeter rest was mine. FRIAR LAWRENCE God pardon sin! Wast thou with Rosaline? ROMEO With Rosaline, my ghostly father? No. I have forgot that name and that name's woe. FRIAR LAWRENCE That's my good son. But where hast thou been then? ROMEO I'll tell thee ere thou ask it me again. I have been feasting with mine enemy, Where on a sudden one hath wounded me That's by me wounded. Both our remedies Within thy help and holy physic lies. I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo, My intercession likewise steads my foe. FRIAR LAWRENCE Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift. Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift. ROMEO Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set On the fair daughter of rich Capulet. As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine, And all combined, save what thou must combine By holy marriage. When and where and how We met, we wooed, and made exchange of vow I'll tell thee as we pass, but this I pray, That thou consent to marry us today. FRIAR LAWRENCE Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here! Is Rosaline, that thou didst love so dear, So soon forsaken? Young men's love then lies Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes. Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine Hath washed thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline! How much salt water thrown away in waste To season love, that of it doth not taste! The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears, Thy old groans yet ringing in mine ancient ears. Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit Of an old tear that is not washed off yet. If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine, Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline. And art thou changed? Pronounce this sentence then: Women may fall when there's no strength in men. ROMEO Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline. FRIAR LAWRENCE For doting, not for loving, pupil mine. ROMEO And bad'st me bury love. FRIAR LAWRENCE Not in a grave To lay one in, another out to have. ROMEO I pray thee, chide me not. Her I love now Doth grace for grace and love for love allow. The other did not so. FRIAR LAWRENCE O, she knew well Thy love did read by rote, that could not spell. But come, young waverer, come, go with me. In one respect I'll thy assistant be, For this alliance may so happy prove To turn your households' rancor to pure love. ROMEO O, let us hence. I stand on sudden haste. FRIAR LAWRENCE Wisely and slow. They stumble that run fast. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Benvolio and Mercutio.] MERCUTIO Where the devil should this Romeo be? Came he not home tonight? BENVOLIO Not to his father's. I spoke with his man. MERCUTIO Why, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline, Torments him so that he will sure run mad. BENVOLIO Tybalt, the kinsman to old Capulet, Hath sent a letter to his father's house. MERCUTIO A challenge, on my life. BENVOLIO Romeo will answer it. MERCUTIO Any man that can write may answer a letter. BENVOLIO Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he dares, being dared. MERCUTIO Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead, stabbed with a white wench's black eye, run through the ear with a love-song, the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt shaft. And is he a man to encounter Tybalt? BENVOLIO Why, what is Tybalt? MERCUTIO More than prince of cats. O, he's the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and proportion. He rests his minim rests, one, two, and the third in your bosom--the very butcher of a silk button, a duelist, a duelist, a gentleman of the very first house of the first and second cause. Ah, the immortal passado, the punto reverso, the hay! BENVOLIO The what? MERCUTIO The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting phantasimes, these new tuners of accent: "By Jesu, a very good blade! A very tall man! A very good whore!" Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these "pardon-me" 's, who stand so much on the new form that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench? O their bones, their bones! [Enter Romeo.] BENVOLIO Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo. MERCUTIO Without his roe, like a dried herring. O flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified! Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in. Laura to his lady was a kitchen wench (marry, she had a better love to berhyme her), Dido a dowdy, Cleopatra a gypsy, Helen and Hero hildings and harlots, Thisbe a gray eye or so, but not to the purpose.--Signior Romeo, bonjour. There's a French salutation to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night. ROMEO Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you? MERCUTIO The slip, sir, the slip. Can you not conceive? ROMEO Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great, and in such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy. MERCUTIO That's as much as to say such a case as yours constrains a man to bow in the hams. ROMEO Meaning, to curtsy. MERCUTIO Thou hast most kindly hit it. ROMEO A most courteous exposition. MERCUTIO Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy. ROMEO "Pink" for flower. MERCUTIO Right. ROMEO Why, then is my pump well flowered. MERCUTIO Sure wit, follow me this jest now till thou hast worn out thy pump, that when the single sole of it is worn, the jest may remain, after the wearing, solely singular. ROMEO O single-soled jest, solely singular for the singleness. MERCUTIO Come between us, good Benvolio. My wits faints. ROMEO Switch and spurs, switch and spurs, or I'll cry a match. MERCUTIO Nay, if our wits run the wild-goose chase, I am done, for thou hast more of the wild goose in one of thy wits than, I am sure, I have in my whole five. Was I with you there for the goose? ROMEO Thou wast never with me for anything when thou wast not there for the goose. MERCUTIO I will bite thee by the ear for that jest. ROMEO Nay, good goose, bite not. MERCUTIO Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most sharp sauce. ROMEO And is it not, then, well served into a sweet goose? MERCUTIO O, here's a wit of cheveril that stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad. ROMEO I stretch it out for that word "broad," which added to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose. MERCUTIO Why, is not this better now than groaning for love? Now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo, now art thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature. For this driveling love is like a great natural that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole. BENVOLIO Stop there, stop there. MERCUTIO Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair. BENVOLIO Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large. MERCUTIO O, thou art deceived. I would have made it short, for I was come to the whole depth of my tale and meant indeed to occupy the argument no longer. [Enter Nurse and her man Peter.] ROMEO Here's goodly gear. A sail, a sail! MERCUTIO Two, two--a shirt and a smock. NURSE Peter. PETER Anon. NURSE My fan, Peter. MERCUTIO Good Peter, to hide her face, for her fan's the fairer face. NURSE God you good morrow, gentlemen. MERCUTIO God you good e'en, fair gentlewoman. NURSE Is it good e'en? MERCUTIO 'Tis no less, I tell you, for the bawdy hand of the dial is now upon the prick of noon. NURSE Out upon you! What a man are you? ROMEO One, gentlewoman, that God hath made, himself to mar. NURSE By my troth, it is well said: "for himself to mar," quoth he? Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I may find the young Romeo? ROMEO I can tell you, but young Romeo will be older when you have found him than he was when you sought him. I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a worse. NURSE You say well. MERCUTIO Yea, is the worst well? Very well took, i' faith, wisely, wisely. NURSE If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with you. BENVOLIO She will indite him to some supper. MERCUTIO A bawd, a bawd, a bawd. So ho! ROMEO What hast thou found? MERCUTIO No hare, sir, unless a hare, sir, in a Lenten pie that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent. [Singing.] An old hare hoar, And an old hare hoar, Is very good meat in Lent. But a hare that is hoar Is too much for a score When it hoars ere it be spent. Romeo, will you come to your father's? We'll to dinner thither. ROMEO I will follow you. MERCUTIO Farewell, ancient lady. Farewell, lady, lady, lady. [Mercutio and Benvolio exit.] NURSE I pray you, sir, what saucy merchant was this that was so full of his ropery? ROMEO A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk and will speak more in a minute than he will stand to in a month. NURSE An he speak anything against me, I'll take him down, an he were lustier than he is, and twenty such jacks. An if I cannot, I'll find those that shall. Scurvy knave, I am none of his flirt-gills; I am none of his skains-mates. [To Peter.] And thou must stand by too and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure. PETER I saw no man use you at his pleasure. If I had, my weapon should quickly have been out. I warrant you, I dare draw as soon as another man, if I see occasion in a good quarrel, and the law on my side. NURSE Now, afore God, I am so vexed that every part about me quivers. Scurvy knave! [To Romeo.] Pray you, sir, a word. And, as I told you, my young lady bid me inquire you out. What she bid me say, I will keep to myself. But first let me tell you, if you should lead her in a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross kind of behavior, as they say. For the gentlewoman is young; and therefore, if you should deal double with her, truly it were an ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing. ROMEO Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I protest unto thee-- NURSE Good heart, and i' faith I will tell her as much. Lord, Lord, she will be a joyful woman. ROMEO What wilt thou tell her, nurse? Thou dost not mark me. NURSE I will tell her, sir, that you do protest, which, as I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer. ROMEO Bid her devise Some means to come to shrift this afternoon, And there she shall at Friar Lawrence' cell Be shrived and married. Here is for thy pains. [Offering her money.] NURSE No, truly, sir, not a penny. ROMEO Go to, I say you shall. NURSE This afternoon, sir? Well, she shall be there. ROMEO And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey wall. Within this hour my man shall be with thee And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair, Which to the high topgallant of my joy Must be my convoy in the secret night. Farewell. Be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains. Farewell. Commend me to thy mistress. NURSE Now, God in heaven bless thee! Hark you, sir. ROMEO What sayst thou, my dear nurse? NURSE Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say "Two may keep counsel, putting one away"? ROMEO Warrant thee, my man's as true as steel. NURSE Well, sir, my mistress is the sweetest lady. Lord, Lord, when 'twas a little prating thing--O, there is a nobleman in town, one Paris, that would fain lay knife aboard, but she, good soul, had as lief see a toad, a very toad, as see him. I anger her sometimes and tell her that Paris is the properer man, but I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks as pale as any clout in the versal world. Doth not rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter? ROMEO Ay, nurse, what of that? Both with an R. NURSE Ah, mocker, that's the dog's name. R is for the--No, I know it begins with some other letter, and she hath the prettiest sententious of it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you good to hear it. ROMEO Commend me to thy lady. NURSE Ay, a thousand times.--Peter. PETER Anon. NURSE Before and apace. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Juliet.] JULIET The clock struck nine when I did send the Nurse. In half an hour she promised to return. Perchance she cannot meet him. That's not so. O, she is lame! Love's heralds should be thoughts, Which ten times faster glides than the sun's beams, Driving back shadows over louring hills. Therefore do nimble-pinioned doves draw Love, And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. Now is the sun upon the highmost hill Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelve Is three long hours, yet she is not come. Had she affections and warm youthful blood, She would be as swift in motion as a ball; My words would bandy her to my sweet love, And his to me. But old folks, many feign as they were dead, Unwieldy, slow, heavy, and pale as lead. [Enter Nurse and Peter.] O God, she comes!--O, honey nurse, what news? Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away. NURSE Peter, stay at the gate. [Peter exits.] JULIET Now, good sweet nurse--O Lord, why lookest thou sad? Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily. If good, thou shamest the music of sweet news By playing it to me with so sour a face. NURSE I am aweary. Give me leave awhile. Fie, how my bones ache! What a jaunt have I! JULIET I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news. Nay, come, I pray thee, speak. Good, good nurse, speak. NURSE Jesu, what haste! Can you not stay awhile? Do you not see that I am out of breath? JULIET How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath To say to me that thou art out of breath? The excuse that thou dost make in this delay Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse. Is thy news good or bad? Answer to that. Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance. Let me be satisfied; is 't good or bad? NURSE Well, you have made a simple choice. You know not how to choose a man. Romeo? No, not he. Though his face be better than any man's, yet his leg excels all men's, and for a hand and a foot and a body, though they be not to be talked on, yet they are past compare. He is not the flower of courtesy, but I'll warrant him as gentle as a lamb. Go thy ways, wench. Serve God. What, have you dined at home? JULIET No, no. But all this did I know before. What says he of our marriage? What of that? NURSE Lord, how my head aches! What a head have I! It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces. My back o' t' other side! Ah, my back, my back! Beshrew your heart for sending me about To catch my death with jaunting up and down. JULIET I' faith, I am sorry that thou art not well. Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love? NURSE Your love says, like an honest gentleman, and a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, and, I warrant, a virtuous--Where is your mother? JULIET Where is my mother? Why, she is within. Where should she be? How oddly thou repliest: "Your love says, like an honest gentleman, Where is your mother?" NURSE O God's lady dear, Are you so hot? Marry, come up, I trow. Is this the poultice for my aching bones? Henceforward do your messages yourself. JULIET Here's such a coil. Come, what says Romeo? NURSE Have you got leave to go to shrift today? JULIET I have. NURSE Then hie you hence to Friar Lawrence' cell. There stays a husband to make you a wife. Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks; They'll be in scarlet straight at any news. Hie you to church. I must another way, To fetch a ladder by the which your love Must climb a bird's nest soon when it is dark. I am the drudge and toil in your delight, But you shall bear the burden soon at night. Go. I'll to dinner. Hie you to the cell. JULIET Hie to high fortune! Honest nurse, farewell. [They exit.] Scene 6 ======= [Enter Friar Lawrence and Romeo.] FRIAR LAWRENCE So smile the heavens upon this holy act That after-hours with sorrow chide us not. ROMEO Amen, amen. But come what sorrow can, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy That one short minute gives me in her sight. Do thou but close our hands with holy words, Then love-devouring death do what he dare, It is enough I may but call her mine. FRIAR LAWRENCE These violent delights have violent ends And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which, as they kiss, consume. The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness And in the taste confounds the appetite. Therefore love moderately. Long love doth so. Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. [Enter Juliet.] Here comes the lady. O, so light a foot Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint. A lover may bestride the gossamers That idles in the wanton summer air, And yet not fall, so light is vanity. JULIET Good even to my ghostly confessor. FRIAR LAWRENCE Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both. JULIET As much to him, else is his thanks too much. ROMEO Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy Be heaped like mine, and that thy skill be more To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath This neighbor air, and let rich music's tongue Unfold the imagined happiness that both Receive in either by this dear encounter. JULIET Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, Brags of his substance, not of ornament. They are but beggars that can count their worth, But my true love is grown to such excess I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth. FRIAR LAWRENCE Come, come with me, and we will make short work, For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone Till Holy Church incorporate two in one. [They exit.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, and their men.] BENVOLIO I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire. The day is hot, the Capels are abroad, And if we meet we shall not 'scape a brawl, For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring. MERCUTIO Thou art like one of these fellows that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his sword upon the table and says "God send me no need of thee" and, by the operation of the second cup, draws him on the drawer when indeed there is no need. BENVOLIO Am I like such a fellow? MERCUTIO Come, come, thou art as hot a jack in thy mood as any in Italy, and as soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be moved. BENVOLIO And what to? MERCUTIO Nay, an there were two such, we should have none shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou--why, thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more or a hair less in his beard than thou hast. Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes. What eye but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarreling. Thou hast quarreled with a man for coughing in the street because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter? With another, for tying his new shoes with old ribbon? And yet thou wilt tutor me from quarreling? BENVOLIO An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the fee simple of my life for an hour and a quarter. MERCUTIO The fee simple? O simple! [Enter Tybalt, Petruchio, and others.] BENVOLIO By my head, here comes the Capulets. MERCUTIO By my heel, I care not. TYBALT, [to his companions] Follow me close, for I will speak to them.-- Gentlemen, good e'en. A word with one of you. MERCUTIO And but one word with one of us? Couple it with something. Make it a word and a blow. TYBALT You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you will give me occasion. MERCUTIO Could you not take some occasion without giving? TYBALT Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo. MERCUTIO Consort? What, dost thou make us minstrels? An thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords. Here's my fiddlestick; here's that shall make you dance. Zounds, consort! BENVOLIO We talk here in the public haunt of men. Either withdraw unto some private place, Or reason coldly of your grievances, Or else depart. Here all eyes gaze on us. MERCUTIO Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze. I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I. [Enter Romeo.] TYBALT Well, peace be with you, sir. Here comes my man. MERCUTIO But I'll be hanged, sir, if he wear your livery. Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower. Your Worship in that sense may call him "man." TYBALT Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford No better term than this: thou art a villain. ROMEO Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee Doth much excuse the appertaining rage To such a greeting. Villain am I none. Therefore farewell. I see thou knowest me not. TYBALT Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries That thou hast done me. Therefore turn and draw. ROMEO I do protest I never injured thee But love thee better than thou canst devise Till thou shalt know the reason of my love. And so, good Capulet, which name I tender As dearly as mine own, be satisfied. MERCUTIO O calm, dishonorable, vile submission! Alla stoccato carries it away. [He draws.] Tybalt, you ratcatcher, will you walk? TYBALT What wouldst thou have with me? MERCUTIO Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine lives, that I mean to make bold withal, and, as you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pilcher by the ears? Make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out. TYBALT I am for you. [He draws.] ROMEO Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. MERCUTIO Come, sir, your passado. [They fight.] ROMEO Draw, Benvolio, beat down their weapons. [Romeo draws.] Gentlemen, for shame forbear this outrage! Tybalt! Mercutio! The Prince expressly hath Forbid this bandying in Verona streets. Hold, Tybalt! Good Mercutio! [Romeo attempts to beat down their rapiers. Tybalt stabs Mercutio.] PETRUCHIO Away, Tybalt! [Tybalt, Petruchio, and their followers exit.] MERCUTIO I am hurt. A plague o' both houses! I am sped. Is he gone and hath nothing? BENVOLIO What, art thou hurt? MERCUTIO Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch. Marry, 'tis enough. Where is my page?--Go, villain, fetch a surgeon. [Page exits.] ROMEO Courage, man, the hurt cannot be much. MERCUTIO No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door, but 'tis enough. 'Twill serve. Ask for me tomorrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o' both your houses! Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death! A braggart, a rogue, a villain that fights by the book of arithmetic! Why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your arm. ROMEO I thought all for the best. MERCUTIO Help me into some house, Benvolio, Or I shall faint. A plague o' both your houses! They have made worms' meat of me. I have it, and soundly, too. Your houses! [All but Romeo exit.] ROMEO This gentleman, the Prince's near ally, My very friend, hath got this mortal hurt In my behalf. My reputation stained With Tybalt's slander--Tybalt, that an hour Hath been my cousin! O sweet Juliet, Thy beauty hath made me effeminate And in my temper softened valor's steel. [Enter Benvolio.] BENVOLIO O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio is dead. That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds, Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. ROMEO This day's black fate on more days doth depend. This but begins the woe others must end. [Enter Tybalt.] BENVOLIO Here comes the furious Tybalt back again. ROMEO Alive in triumph, and Mercutio slain! Away to heaven, respective lenity, And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now.-- Now, Tybalt, take the "villain" back again That late thou gavest me, for Mercutio's soul Is but a little way above our heads, Staying for thine to keep him company. Either thou or I, or both, must go with him. TYBALT Thou wretched boy that didst consort him here Shalt with him hence. ROMEO This shall determine that. [They fight. Tybalt falls.] BENVOLIO Romeo, away, begone! The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain. Stand not amazed. The Prince will doom thee death If thou art taken. Hence, be gone, away. ROMEO O, I am Fortune's fool! BENVOLIO Why dost thou stay? [Romeo exits.] [Enter Citizens.] CITIZEN Which way ran he that killed Mercutio? Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he? BENVOLIO There lies that Tybalt. CITIZEN, [to Tybalt] Up, sir, go with me. I charge thee in the Prince's name, obey. [Enter Prince, old Montague, Capulet, their Wives and all.] PRINCE Where are the vile beginners of this fray? BENVOLIO O noble prince, I can discover all The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl. There lies the man, slain by young Romeo, That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio. LADY CAPULET Tybalt, my cousin, O my brother's child! O prince! O cousin! Husband! O, the blood is spilled Of my dear kinsman! Prince, as thou art true, For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague. O cousin, cousin! PRINCE Benvolio, who began this bloody fray? BENVOLIO Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay-- Romeo, that spoke him fair, bid him bethink How nice the quarrel was, and urged withal Your high displeasure. All this uttered With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bowed Could not take truce with the unruly spleen Of Tybalt, deaf to peace, but that he tilts With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast, Who, all as hot, turns deadly point to point And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats Cold death aside and with the other sends It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity Retorts it. Romeo he cries aloud "Hold, friends! Friends, part!" and swifter than his tongue His agile arm beats down their fatal points, And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled. But by and by comes back to Romeo, Who had but newly entertained revenge, And to 't they go like lightning, for ere I Could draw to part them was stout Tybalt slain, And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly. This is the truth, or let Benvolio die. LADY CAPULET He is a kinsman to the Montague. Affection makes him false; he speaks not true. Some twenty of them fought in this black strife, And all those twenty could but kill one life. I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give. Romeo slew Tybalt; Romeo must not live. PRINCE Romeo slew him; he slew Mercutio. Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe? MONTAGUE Not Romeo, Prince; he was Mercutio's friend. His fault concludes but what the law should end, The life of Tybalt. PRINCE And for that offense Immediately we do exile him hence. I have an interest in your hearts' proceeding: My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding. But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine That you shall all repent the loss of mine. I will be deaf to pleading and excuses. Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses. Therefore use none. Let Romeo hence in haste, Else, when he is found, that hour is his last. Bear hence this body and attend our will. Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill. [They exit, the Capulet men bearing off Tybalt's body.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Juliet alone.] JULIET Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, Towards Phoebus' lodging. Such a wagoner As Phaeton would whip you to the west And bring in cloudy night immediately. Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night, That runaways' eyes may wink, and Romeo Leap to these arms, untalked of and unseen. Lovers can see to do their amorous rites By their own beauties, or, if love be blind, It best agrees with night. Come, civil night, Thou sober-suited matron all in black, And learn me how to lose a winning match Played for a pair of stainless maidenhoods. Hood my unmanned blood, bating in my cheeks, With thy black mantle till strange love grow bold, Think true love acted simple modesty. Come, night. Come, Romeo. Come, thou day in night, For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night Whiter than new snow upon a raven's back. Come, gentle night; come, loving black-browed night, Give me my Romeo, and when I shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun. O, I have bought the mansion of a love But not possessed it, and, though I am sold, Not yet enjoyed. So tedious is this day As is the night before some festival To an impatient child that hath new robes And may not wear them. [Enter Nurse with cords.] O, here comes my nurse, And she brings news, and every tongue that speaks But Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence.-- Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there? The cords That Romeo bid thee fetch? NURSE Ay, ay, the cords. [Dropping the rope ladder.] JULIET Ay me, what news? Why dost thou wring thy hands? NURSE Ah weraday, he's dead, he's dead, he's dead! We are undone, lady, we are undone. Alack the day, he's gone, he's killed, he's dead. JULIET Can heaven be so envious? NURSE Romeo can, Though heaven cannot. O Romeo, Romeo, Whoever would have thought it? Romeo! JULIET What devil art thou that dost torment me thus? This torture should be roared in dismal hell. Hath Romeo slain himself? Say thou but "Ay," And that bare vowel "I" shall poison more Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice. I am not I if there be such an "I," Or those eyes shut that makes thee answer "Ay." If he be slain, say "Ay," or if not, "No." Brief sounds determine my weal or woe. NURSE I saw the wound. I saw it with mine eyes (God save the mark!) here on his manly breast-- A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse, Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaubed in blood, All in gore blood. I swooned at the sight. JULIET O break, my heart, poor bankrout, break at once! To prison, eyes; ne'er look on liberty. Vile earth to earth resign; end motion here, And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier. NURSE O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had! O courteous Tybalt, honest gentleman, That ever I should live to see thee dead! JULIET What storm is this that blows so contrary? Is Romeo slaughtered and is Tybalt dead? My dearest cousin, and my dearer lord? Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom, For who is living if those two are gone? NURSE Tybalt is gone and Romeo banished. Romeo that killed him--he is banished. JULIET O God, did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood? NURSE It did, it did, alas the day, it did. JULIET O serpent heart hid with a flow'ring face! Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? Beautiful tyrant, fiend angelical! Dove-feathered raven, wolvish-ravening lamb! Despised substance of divinest show! Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st, A damned saint, an honorable villain. O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh? Was ever book containing such vile matter So fairly bound? O, that deceit should dwell In such a gorgeous palace! NURSE There's no trust, No faith, no honesty in men. All perjured, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers. Ah, where's my man? Give me some aqua vitae. These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old. Shame come to Romeo! JULIET Blistered be thy tongue For such a wish! He was not born to shame. Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit, For 'tis a throne where honor may be crowned Sole monarch of the universal Earth. O, what a beast was I to chide at him! NURSE Will you speak well of him that killed your cousin? JULIET Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband? Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it? But wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? That villain cousin would have killed my husband. Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring; Your tributary drops belong to woe, Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy. My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain, And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband. All this is comfort. Wherefore weep I then? Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death, That murdered me. I would forget it fain, But, O, it presses to my memory Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds: "Tybalt is dead and Romeo banished." That "banished," that one word "banished," Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death Was woe enough if it had ended there; Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship And needly will be ranked with other griefs, Why followed not, when she said "Tybalt's dead," "Thy father" or "thy mother," nay, or both, Which modern lamentation might have moved? But with a rearward following Tybalt's death, "Romeo is banished." To speak that word Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, All slain, all dead. "Romeo is banished." There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, In that word's death. No words can that woe sound. Where is my father and my mother, nurse? NURSE Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse. Will you go to them? I will bring you thither. JULIET Wash they his wounds with tears? Mine shall be spent, When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment.-- Take up those cords. [The Nurse picks up the rope ladder.] Poor ropes, you are beguiled, Both you and I, for Romeo is exiled. He made you for a highway to my bed, But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed. Come, cords--come, nurse. I'll to my wedding bed, And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead! NURSE Hie to your chamber. I'll find Romeo To comfort you. I wot well where he is. Hark you, your Romeo will be here at night. I'll to him. He is hid at Lawrence' cell. JULIET O, find him! [Giving the Nurse a ring.] Give this ring to my true knight And bid him come to take his last farewell. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Friar Lawrence.] FRIAR LAWRENCE Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man. Affliction is enamored of thy parts, And thou art wedded to calamity. [Enter Romeo.] ROMEO Father, what news? What is the Prince's doom? What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand That I yet know not? FRIAR LAWRENCE Too familiar Is my dear son with such sour company. I bring thee tidings of the Prince's doom. ROMEO What less than doomsday is the Prince's doom? FRIAR LAWRENCE A gentler judgment vanished from his lips: Not body's death, but body's banishment. ROMEO Ha, banishment? Be merciful, say "death," For exile hath more terror in his look, Much more than death. Do not say "banishment." FRIAR LAWRENCE Here from Verona art thou banished. Be patient, for the world is broad and wide. ROMEO There is no world without Verona walls But purgatory, torture, hell itself. Hence "banished" is "banished from the world," And world's exile is death. Then "banished" Is death mistermed. Calling death "banished," Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden ax And smilest upon the stroke that murders me. FRIAR LAWRENCE O deadly sin, O rude unthankfulness! Thy fault our law calls death, but the kind prince, Taking thy part, hath rushed aside the law And turned that black word "death" to "banishment." This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not. ROMEO 'Tis torture and not mercy. Heaven is here Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dog And little mouse, every unworthy thing, Live here in heaven and may look on her, But Romeo may not. More validity, More honorable state, more courtship lives In carrion flies than Romeo. They may seize On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand And steal immortal blessing from her lips, Who even in pure and vestal modesty Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin; But Romeo may not; he is banished. Flies may do this, but I from this must fly. They are free men, but I am banished. And sayest thou yet that exile is not death? Hadst thou no poison mixed, no sharp-ground knife, No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean, But "banished" to kill me? "Banished"? O friar, the damned use that word in hell. Howling attends it. How hast thou the heart, Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, A sin absolver, and my friend professed, To mangle me with that word "banished"? FRIAR LAWRENCE Thou fond mad man, hear me a little speak. ROMEO O, thou wilt speak again of banishment. FRIAR LAWRENCE I'll give thee armor to keep off that word, Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy, To comfort thee, though thou art banished. ROMEO Yet "banished"? Hang up philosophy. Unless philosophy can make a Juliet, Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom, It helps not, it prevails not. Talk no more. FRIAR LAWRENCE O, then I see that madmen have no ears. ROMEO How should they when that wise men have no eyes? FRIAR LAWRENCE Let me dispute with thee of thy estate. ROMEO Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel. Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, An hour but married, Tybalt murdered, Doting like me, and like me banished, Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair And fall upon the ground as I do now, [Romeo throws himself down.] Taking the measure of an unmade grave. [Knock within.] FRIAR LAWRENCE Arise. One knocks. Good Romeo, hide thyself. ROMEO Not I, unless the breath of heartsick groans, Mistlike, enfold me from the search of eyes. [Knock.] FRIAR LAWRENCE Hark, how they knock!--Who's there?--Romeo, arise. Thou wilt be taken.--Stay awhile.--Stand up. [Knock.] Run to my study.--By and by.--God's will, What simpleness is this?--I come, I come. [Knock.] Who knocks so hard? Whence come you? What's your will? NURSE, [within] Let me come in, and you shall know my errand. I come from Lady Juliet. FRIAR LAWRENCE, [admitting the Nurse] Welcome, then. [Enter Nurse.] NURSE O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar, Where's my lady's lord? Where's Romeo? FRIAR LAWRENCE There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk. NURSE O, he is even in my mistress' case, Just in her case. O woeful sympathy! Piteous predicament! Even so lies she, Blubb'ring and weeping, weeping and blubb'ring.-- Stand up, stand up. Stand an you be a man. For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand. Why should you fall into so deep an O? ROMEO Nurse. NURSE Ah sir, ah sir, death's the end of all. ROMEO, [rising up] Spakest thou of Juliet? How is it with her? Doth not she think me an old murderer, Now I have stained the childhood of our joy With blood removed but little from her own? Where is she? And how doth she? And what says My concealed lady to our canceled love? NURSE O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps, And now falls on her bed, and then starts up, And "Tybalt" calls, and then on Romeo cries, And then down falls again. ROMEO As if that name, Shot from the deadly level of a gun, Did murder her, as that name's cursed hand Murdered her kinsman.--O, tell me, friar, tell me, In what vile part of this anatomy Doth my name lodge? Tell me, that I may sack The hateful mansion. [He draws his dagger.] FRIAR LAWRENCE Hold thy desperate hand! Art thou a man? Thy form cries out thou art. Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote The unreasonable fury of a beast. Unseemly woman in a seeming man, And ill-beseeming beast in seeming both! Thou hast amazed me. By my holy order, I thought thy disposition better tempered. Hast thou slain Tybalt? Wilt thou slay thyself, And slay thy lady that in thy life lives, By doing damned hate upon thyself? Why railest thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth, Since birth and heaven and earth all three do meet In thee at once, which thou at once wouldst lose? Fie, fie, thou shamest thy shape, thy love, thy wit, Which, like a usurer, abound'st in all And usest none in that true use indeed Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit. Thy noble shape is but a form of wax, Digressing from the valor of a man; Thy dear love sworn but hollow perjury, Killing that love which thou hast vowed to cherish; Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love, Misshapen in the conduct of them both, Like powder in a skilless soldier's flask, Is set afire by thine own ignorance, And thou dismembered with thine own defense. What, rouse thee, man! Thy Juliet is alive, For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead: There art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee, But thou slewest Tybalt: there art thou happy. The law that threatened death becomes thy friend And turns it to exile: there art thou happy. A pack of blessings light upon thy back; Happiness courts thee in her best array; But, like a misbehaved and sullen wench, Thou pouts upon thy fortune and thy love. Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable. Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed. Ascend her chamber. Hence and comfort her. But look thou stay not till the watch be set, For then thou canst not pass to Mantua, Where thou shalt live till we can find a time To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends, Beg pardon of the Prince, and call thee back With twenty hundred thousand times more joy Than thou went'st forth in lamentation.-- Go before, nurse. Commend me to thy lady, And bid her hasten all the house to bed, Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto. Romeo is coming. NURSE O Lord, I could have stayed here all the night To hear good counsel. O, what learning is!-- My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come. ROMEO Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide. NURSE Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir. [Nurse gives Romeo a ring.] Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late. [She exits.] ROMEO How well my comfort is revived by this! FRIAR LAWRENCE Go hence, good night--and here stands all your state: Either be gone before the watch be set Or by the break of day disguised from hence. Sojourn in Mantua. I'll find out your man, And he shall signify from time to time Every good hap to you that chances here. Give me thy hand. 'Tis late. Farewell. Good night. ROMEO But that a joy past joy calls out on me, It were a grief so brief to part with thee. Farewell. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter old Capulet, his Wife, and Paris.] CAPULET Things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily That we have had no time to move our daughter. Look you, she loved her kinsman Tybalt dearly, And so did I. Well, we were born to die. 'Tis very late. She'll not come down tonight. I promise you, but for your company, I would have been abed an hour ago. PARIS These times of woe afford no times to woo.-- Madam, good night. Commend me to your daughter. LADY CAPULET I will, and know her mind early tomorrow. Tonight she's mewed up to her heaviness. CAPULET Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender Of my child's love. I think she will be ruled In all respects by me. Nay, more, I doubt it not.-- Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed. Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love, And bid her--mark you me?--on Wednesday next-- But soft, what day is this? PARIS Monday, my lord. CAPULET Monday, ha ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon. O' Thursday let it be.--O' Thursday, tell her, She shall be married to this noble earl.-- Will you be ready? Do you like this haste? We'll keep no great ado: a friend or two. For hark you, Tybalt being slain so late, It may be thought we held him carelessly, Being our kinsman, if we revel much. Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends, And there an end. But what say you to Thursday? PARIS My lord, I would that Thursday were tomorrow. CAPULET Well, get you gone. O' Thursday be it, then. [To Lady Capulet.] Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed. Prepare her, wife, against this wedding day.-- Farewell, my lord.--Light to my chamber, ho!-- Afore me, it is so very late that we May call it early by and by.--Good night. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Romeo and Juliet aloft.] JULIET Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day. It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear. Nightly she sings on yond pomegranate tree. Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. ROMEO It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale. Look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain-tops. I must be gone and live, or stay and die. JULIET Yond light is not daylight, I know it, I. It is some meteor that the sun exhaled To be to thee this night a torchbearer And light thee on thy way to Mantua. Therefore stay yet. Thou need'st not to be gone. ROMEO Let me be ta'en; let me be put to death. I am content, so thou wilt have it so. I'll say yon gray is not the morning's eye; 'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow. Nor that is not the lark whose notes do beat The vaulty heaven so high above our heads. I have more care to stay than will to go. Come death and welcome. Juliet wills it so. How is 't, my soul? Let's talk. It is not day. JULIET It is, it is. Hie hence, begone, away! It is the lark that sings so out of tune, Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. Some say the lark makes sweet division. This doth not so, for she divideth us. Some say the lark and loathed toad changed eyes. O, now I would they had changed voices too, Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day. O, now begone. More light and light it grows. ROMEO More light and light, more dark and dark our woes. [Enter Nurse.] NURSE Madam. JULIET Nurse? NURSE Your lady mother is coming to your chamber. The day is broke; be wary; look about. [She exits.] JULIET Then, window, let day in, and let life out. ROMEO Farewell, farewell. One kiss and I'll descend. [They kiss, and Romeo descends.] JULIET Art thou gone so? Love, lord, ay husband, friend! I must hear from thee every day in the hour, For in a minute there are many days. O, by this count I shall be much in years Ere I again behold my Romeo. ROMEO Farewell. I will omit no opportunity That may convey my greetings, love, to thee. JULIET O, think'st thou we shall ever meet again? ROMEO I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve For sweet discourses in our times to come. JULIET O God, I have an ill-divining soul! Methinks I see thee, now thou art so low, As one dead in the bottom of a tomb. Either my eyesight fails or thou lookest pale. ROMEO And trust me, love, in my eye so do you. Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu. [He exits.] JULIET O Fortune, Fortune, all men call thee fickle. If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him That is renowned for faith? Be fickle, Fortune, For then I hope thou wilt not keep him long, But send him back. [Enter Lady Capulet.] LADY CAPULET Ho, daughter, are you up? JULIET Who is 't that calls? It is my lady mother. Is she not down so late or up so early? What unaccustomed cause procures her hither? [Juliet descends.] LADY CAPULET Why, how now, Juliet? JULIET Madam, I am not well. LADY CAPULET Evermore weeping for your cousin's death? What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears? An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live. Therefore have done. Some grief shows much of love, But much of grief shows still some want of wit. JULIET Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss. LADY CAPULET So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend Which you weep for. JULIET Feeling so the loss, I cannot choose but ever weep the friend. LADY CAPULET Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death As that the villain lives which slaughtered him. JULIET What villain, madam? LADY CAPULET That same villain, Romeo. JULIET, [aside] Villain and he be many miles asunder.-- God pardon him. I do with all my heart, And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart. LADY CAPULET That is because the traitor murderer lives. JULIET Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands. Would none but I might venge my cousin's death! LADY CAPULET We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not. Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua, Where that same banished runagate doth live, Shall give him such an unaccustomed dram That he shall soon keep Tybalt company. And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied. JULIET Indeed, I never shall be satisfied With Romeo till I behold him--dead-- Is my poor heart, so for a kinsman vexed. Madam, if you could find out but a man To bear a poison, I would temper it, That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof, Soon sleep in quiet. O, how my heart abhors To hear him named and cannot come to him To wreak the love I bore my cousin Upon his body that hath slaughtered him. LADY CAPULET Find thou the means, and I'll find such a man. But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl. JULIET And joy comes well in such a needy time. What are they, beseech your Ladyship? LADY CAPULET Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child, One who, to put thee from thy heaviness, Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy That thou expects not, nor I looked not for. JULIET Madam, in happy time! What day is that? LADY CAPULET Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn The gallant, young, and noble gentleman, The County Paris, at Saint Peter's Church Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride. JULIET Now, by Saint Peter's Church, and Peter too, He shall not make me there a joyful bride! I wonder at this haste, that I must wed Ere he that should be husband comes to woo. I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam, I will not marry yet, and when I do I swear It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate, Rather than Paris. These are news indeed! LADY CAPULET Here comes your father. Tell him so yourself, And see how he will take it at your hands. [Enter Capulet and Nurse.] CAPULET When the sun sets, the earth doth drizzle dew, But for the sunset of my brother's son It rains downright. How now, a conduit, girl? What, still in tears? Evermore show'ring? In one little body Thou counterfeits a bark, a sea, a wind. For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea, Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is, Sailing in this salt flood; the winds thy sighs, Who, raging with thy tears and they with them, Without a sudden calm, will overset Thy tempest-tossed body.--How now, wife? Have you delivered to her our decree? LADY CAPULET Ay, sir, but she will none, she gives you thanks. I would the fool were married to her grave. CAPULET Soft, take me with you, take me with you, wife. How, will she none? Doth she not give us thanks? Is she not proud? Doth she not count her blessed, Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought So worthy a gentleman to be her bride? JULIET Not proud you have, but thankful that you have. Proud can I never be of what I hate, But thankful even for hate that is meant love. CAPULET How, how, how, how? Chopped logic? What is this? "Proud," and "I thank you," and "I thank you not," And yet "not proud"? Mistress minion you, Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds, But fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next To go with Paris to Saint Peter's Church, Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. Out, you green-sickness carrion! Out, you baggage! You tallow face! LADY CAPULET Fie, fie, what, are you mad? JULIET, [kneeling] Good father, I beseech you on my knees, Hear me with patience but to speak a word. CAPULET Hang thee, young baggage, disobedient wretch! I tell thee what: get thee to church o' Thursday, Or never after look me in the face. Speak not; reply not; do not answer me. My fingers itch.--Wife, we scarce thought us blessed That God had lent us but this only child, But now I see this one is one too much, And that we have a curse in having her. Out on her, hilding. NURSE God in heaven bless her! You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so. CAPULET And why, my Lady Wisdom? Hold your tongue. Good Prudence, smatter with your gossips, go. NURSE I speak no treason. CAPULET O, God 'i' g' eden! NURSE May not one speak? CAPULET Peace, you mumbling fool! Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl, For here we need it not. LADY CAPULET You are too hot. CAPULET God's bread, it makes me mad. Day, night, hour, tide, time, work, play, Alone, in company, still my care hath been To have her matched. And having now provided A gentleman of noble parentage, Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly ligned, Stuffed, as they say, with honorable parts, Proportioned as one's thought would wish a man-- And then to have a wretched puling fool, A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender, To answer "I'll not wed. I cannot love. I am too young. I pray you, pardon me." But, an you will not wed, I'll pardon you! Graze where you will, you shall not house with me. Look to 't; think on 't. I do not use to jest. Thursday is near. Lay hand on heart; advise. An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend. An you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in the streets, For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee, Nor what is mine shall never do thee good. Trust to 't; bethink you. I'll not be forsworn. [He exits.] JULIET Is there no pity sitting in the clouds That sees into the bottom of my grief?-- O sweet my mother, cast me not away. Delay this marriage for a month, a week, Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed In that dim monument where Tybalt lies. LADY CAPULET Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word. Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. [She exits.] JULIET, [rising] O God! O nurse, how shall this be prevented? My husband is on Earth, my faith in heaven. How shall that faith return again to Earth Unless that husband send it me from heaven By leaving Earth? Comfort me; counsel me.-- Alack, alack, that heaven should practice stratagems Upon so soft a subject as myself.-- What sayst thou? Hast thou not a word of joy? Some comfort, nurse. NURSE Faith, here it is. Romeo is banished, and all the world to nothing That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you, Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth. Then, since the case so stands as now it doth, I think it best you married with the County. O, he's a lovely gentleman! Romeo's a dishclout to him. An eagle, madam, Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart, I think you are happy in this second match, For it excels your first, or, if it did not, Your first is dead, or 'twere as good he were As living here and you no use of him. JULIET Speak'st thou from thy heart? NURSE And from my soul too, else beshrew them both. JULIET Amen. NURSE What? JULIET Well, thou hast comforted me marvelous much. Go in and tell my lady I am gone, Having displeased my father, to Lawrence' cell To make confession and to be absolved. NURSE Marry, I will; and this is wisely done. [She exits.] JULIET Ancient damnation, O most wicked fiend! Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue Which she hath praised him with above compare So many thousand times? Go, counselor. Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain. I'll to the Friar to know his remedy. If all else fail, myself have power to die. [She exits.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Friar Lawrence and County Paris.] FRIAR LAWRENCE On Thursday, sir? The time is very short. PARIS My father Capulet will have it so, And I am nothing slow to slack his haste. FRIAR LAWRENCE You say you do not know the lady's mind? Uneven is the course. I like it not. PARIS Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death, And therefore have I little talk of love, For Venus smiles not in a house of tears. Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous That she do give her sorrow so much sway, And in his wisdom hastes our marriage To stop the inundation of her tears, Which, too much minded by herself alone, May be put from her by society. Now do you know the reason of this haste. FRIAR LAWRENCE, [aside] I would I knew not why it should be slowed.-- Look, sir, here comes the lady toward my cell. [Enter Juliet.] PARIS Happily met, my lady and my wife. JULIET That may be, sir, when I may be a wife. PARIS That "may be" must be, love, on Thursday next. JULIET What must be shall be. FRIAR LAWRENCE That's a certain text. PARIS Come you to make confession to this father? JULIET To answer that, I should confess to you. PARIS Do not deny to him that you love me. JULIET I will confess to you that I love him. PARIS So will you, I am sure, that you love me. JULIET If I do so, it will be of more price Being spoke behind your back than to your face. PARIS Poor soul, thy face is much abused with tears. JULIET The tears have got small victory by that, For it was bad enough before their spite. PARIS Thou wrong'st it more than tears with that report. JULIET That is no slander, sir, which is a truth, And what I spake, I spake it to my face. PARIS Thy face is mine, and thou hast slandered it. JULIET It may be so, for it is not mine own.-- Are you at leisure, holy father, now, Or shall I come to you at evening Mass? FRIAR LAWRENCE My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.-- My lord, we must entreat the time alone. PARIS God shield I should disturb devotion!-- Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse you. Till then, adieu, and keep this holy kiss. [He exits.] JULIET O, shut the door, and when thou hast done so, Come weep with me, past hope, past care, past help. FRIAR LAWRENCE O Juliet, I already know thy grief. It strains me past the compass of my wits. I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it, On Thursday next be married to this County. JULIET Tell me not, friar, that thou hearest of this, Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it. If in thy wisdom thou canst give no help, Do thou but call my resolution wise, And with this knife I'll help it presently. [She shows him her knife.] God joined my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands; And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo's sealed, Shall be the label to another deed, Or my true heart with treacherous revolt Turn to another, this shall slay them both. Therefore out of thy long-experienced time Give me some present counsel, or, behold, 'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that Which the commission of thy years and art Could to no issue of true honor bring. Be not so long to speak. I long to die If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy. FRIAR LAWRENCE Hold, daughter, I do spy a kind of hope, Which craves as desperate an execution As that is desperate which we would prevent. If, rather than to marry County Paris, Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself, Then is it likely thou wilt undertake A thing like death to chide away this shame, That cop'st with death himself to 'scape from it; And if thou darest, I'll give thee remedy. JULIET O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, From off the battlements of any tower, Or walk in thievish ways, or bid me lurk Where serpents are. Chain me with roaring bears, Or hide me nightly in a charnel house, O'ercovered quite with dead men's rattling bones, With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls. Or bid me go into a new-made grave And hide me with a dead man in his shroud (Things that to hear them told have made me tremble), And I will do it without fear or doubt, To live an unstained wife to my sweet love. FRIAR LAWRENCE Hold, then. Go home; be merry; give consent To marry Paris. Wednesday is tomorrow. Tomorrow night look that thou lie alone; Let not the Nurse lie with thee in thy chamber. [Holding out a vial.] Take thou this vial, being then in bed, And this distilling liquor drink thou off; When presently through all thy veins shall run A cold and drowsy humor; for no pulse Shall keep his native progress, but surcease. No warmth, no breath shall testify thou livest. The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade To paly ashes, thy eyes' windows fall Like death when he shuts up the day of life. Each part, deprived of supple government, Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death, And in this borrowed likeness of shrunk death Thou shalt continue two and forty hours And then awake as from a pleasant sleep. Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead. Then, as the manner of our country is, In thy best robes uncovered on the bier Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie. In the meantime, against thou shalt awake, Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift, And hither shall he come, and he and I Will watch thy waking, and that very night Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua. And this shall free thee from this present shame, If no inconstant toy nor womanish fear Abate thy valor in the acting it. JULIET Give me, give me! O, tell not me of fear! FRIAR LAWRENCE, [giving Juliet the vial] Hold, get you gone. Be strong and prosperous In this resolve. I'll send a friar with speed To Mantua with my letters to thy lord. JULIET Love give me strength, and strength shall help afford. Farewell, dear father. [They exit in different directions.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Father Capulet, Mother, Nurse, and Servingmen, two or three.] CAPULET So many guests invite as here are writ. [One or two of the Servingmen exit with Capulet's list.] Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks. SERVINGMAN You shall have none ill, sir, for I'll try if they can lick their fingers. CAPULET How canst thou try them so? SERVINGMAN Marry, sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers. Therefore he that cannot lick his fingers goes not with me. CAPULET Go, begone. [Servingman exits.] We shall be much unfurnished for this time.-- What, is my daughter gone to Friar Lawrence? NURSE Ay, forsooth. CAPULET Well, he may chance to do some good on her. A peevish self-willed harlotry it is. [Enter Juliet.] NURSE See where she comes from shrift with merry look. CAPULET How now, my headstrong, where have you been gadding? JULIET Where I have learned me to repent the sin Of disobedient opposition To you and your behests, and am enjoined By holy Lawrence to fall prostrate here [Kneeling.] To beg your pardon. Pardon, I beseech you. Henceforward I am ever ruled by you. CAPULET Send for the County. Go tell him of this. I'll have this knot knit up tomorrow morning. JULIET I met the youthful lord at Lawrence' cell And gave him what becomed love I might, Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty. CAPULET Why, I am glad on 't. This is well. Stand up. [Juliet rises.] This is as 't should be.--Let me see the County. Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither.-- Now, afore God, this reverend holy friar, All our whole city is much bound to him. JULIET Nurse, will you go with me into my closet To help me sort such needful ornaments As you think fit to furnish me tomorrow? LADY CAPULET No, not till Thursday. There is time enough. CAPULET Go, nurse. Go with her. We'll to church tomorrow. [Juliet and the Nurse exit.] LADY CAPULET We shall be short in our provision. 'Tis now near night. CAPULET Tush, I will stir about, And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife. Go thou to Juliet. Help to deck up her. I'll not to bed tonight. Let me alone. I'll play the housewife for this once.--What ho!-- They are all forth. Well, I will walk myself To County Paris, to prepare up him Against tomorrow. My heart is wondrous light Since this same wayward girl is so reclaimed. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Juliet and Nurse.] JULIET Ay, those attires are best. But, gentle nurse, I pray thee leave me to myself tonight, For I have need of many orisons To move the heavens to smile upon my state, Which, well thou knowest, is cross and full of sin. [Enter Lady Capulet.] LADY CAPULET What, are you busy, ho? Need you my help? JULIET No, madam, we have culled such necessaries As are behooveful for our state tomorrow. So please you, let me now be left alone, And let the Nurse this night sit up with you, For I am sure you have your hands full all In this so sudden business. LADY CAPULET Good night. Get thee to bed and rest, for thou hast need. [Lady Capulet and the Nurse exit.] JULIET Farewell.--God knows when we shall meet again. I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins That almost freezes up the heat of life. I'll call them back again to comfort me.-- Nurse!--What should she do here? My dismal scene I needs must act alone. Come, vial. [She takes out the vial.] What if this mixture do not work at all? Shall I be married then tomorrow morning? [She takes out her knife and puts it down beside her.] No, no, this shall forbid it. Lie thou there. What if it be a poison which the Friar Subtly hath ministered to have me dead, Lest in this marriage he should be dishonored Because he married me before to Romeo? I fear it is. And yet methinks it should not, For he hath still been tried a holy man. How if, when I am laid into the tomb, I wake before the time that Romeo Come to redeem me? There's a fearful point. Shall I not then be stifled in the vault, To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in, And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes? Or, if I live, is it not very like The horrible conceit of death and night, Together with the terror of the place-- As in a vault, an ancient receptacle Where for this many hundred years the bones Of all my buried ancestors are packed; Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth, Lies fest'ring in his shroud; where, as they say, At some hours in the night spirits resort-- Alack, alack, is it not like that I, So early waking, what with loathsome smells, And shrieks like mandrakes torn out of the earth, That living mortals, hearing them, run mad-- O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught, Environed with all these hideous fears, And madly play with my forefathers' joints, And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud, And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone, As with a club, dash out my desp'rate brains? O look, methinks I see my cousin's ghost Seeking out Romeo that did spit his body Upon a rapier's point! Stay, Tybalt, stay! Romeo, Romeo, Romeo! Here's drink. I drink to thee. [She drinks and falls upon her bed within the curtains.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse.] LADY CAPULET Hold, take these keys, and fetch more spices, nurse. NURSE They call for dates and quinces in the pastry. [Enter old Capulet.] CAPULET Come, stir, stir, stir! The second cock hath crowed. The curfew bell hath rung. 'Tis three o'clock.-- Look to the baked meats, good Angelica. Spare not for cost. NURSE Go, you cot-quean, go, Get you to bed. Faith, you'll be sick tomorrow For this night's watching. CAPULET No, not a whit. What, I have watched ere now All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick. LADY CAPULET Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your time, But I will watch you from such watching now. [Lady Capulet and Nurse exit.] CAPULET A jealous hood, a jealous hood! [Enter three or four Servingmen with spits and logs and baskets.] Now fellow, What is there? FIRST SERVINGMAN Things for the cook, sir, but I know not what. CAPULET Make haste, make haste. [First Servingman exits.] Sirrah, fetch drier logs. Call Peter. He will show thee where they are. SECOND SERVINGMAN I have a head, sir, that will find out logs And never trouble Peter for the matter. CAPULET Mass, and well said. A merry whoreson, ha! Thou shalt be loggerhead. [Second Servingman exits.] Good faith, 'tis day. The County will be here with music straight, [Play music.] For so he said he would. I hear him near.-- Nurse!--Wife! What ho!--What, nurse, I say! [Enter Nurse.] Go waken Juliet. Go and trim her up. I'll go and chat with Paris. Hie, make haste, Make haste. The bridegroom he is come already. Make haste, I say. [He exits.] Scene 5 ======= NURSE, [approaching the bed] Mistress! What, mistress! Juliet!--Fast, I warrant her, she-- Why, lamb, why, lady! Fie, you slugabed! Why, love, I say! Madam! Sweetheart! Why, bride!-- What, not a word?--You take your pennyworths now. Sleep for a week, for the next night, I warrant, The County Paris hath set up his rest That you shall rest but little.--God forgive me, Marry, and amen! How sound is she asleep! I needs must wake her.--Madam, madam, madam! Ay, let the County take you in your bed, He'll fright you up, i' faith.--Will it not be? [She opens the bed's curtains.] What, dressed, and in your clothes, and down again? I must needs wake you. Lady, lady, lady!-- Alas, alas! Help, help! My lady's dead.-- O, weraday, that ever I was born!-- Some aqua vitae, ho!--My lord! My lady! [Enter Lady Capulet.] LADY CAPULET What noise is here? NURSE O lamentable day! LADY CAPULET What is the matter? NURSE Look, look!--O heavy day! LADY CAPULET O me! O me! My child, my only life, Revive, look up, or I will die with thee. Help, help! Call help. [Enter Capulet.] CAPULET For shame, bring Juliet forth. Her lord is come. NURSE She's dead, deceased. She's dead, alack the day! LADY CAPULET Alack the day, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead. CAPULET Ha, let me see her! Out, alas, she's cold. Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff. Life and these lips have long been separated. Death lies on her like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field. NURSE O lamentable day! LADY CAPULET O woeful time! CAPULET Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail, Ties up my tongue and will not let me speak. [Enter Friar Lawrence and the County Paris, with Musicians.] FRIAR LAWRENCE Come, is the bride ready to go to church? CAPULET Ready to go, but never to return.-- O son, the night before thy wedding day Hath Death lain with thy wife. There she lies, Flower as she was, deflowered by him. Death is my son-in-law; Death is my heir. My daughter he hath wedded. I will die And leave him all. Life, living, all is Death's. PARIS Have I thought long to see this morning's face, And doth it give me such a sight as this? LADY CAPULET Accursed, unhappy, wretched, hateful day! Most miserable hour that e'er time saw In lasting labor of his pilgrimage! But one, poor one, one poor and loving child, But one thing to rejoice and solace in, And cruel death hath catched it from my sight! NURSE O woe, O woeful, woeful, woeful day! Most lamentable day, most woeful day That ever, ever I did yet behold! O day, O day, O day, O hateful day! Never was seen so black a day as this! O woeful day, O woeful day! PARIS Beguiled, divorced, wronged, spited, slain! Most detestable death, by thee beguiled, By cruel, cruel thee quite overthrown! O love! O life! Not life, but love in death! CAPULET Despised, distressed, hated, martyred, killed! Uncomfortable time, why cam'st thou now To murder, murder our solemnity? O child! O child! My soul and not my child! Dead art thou! Alack, my child is dead, And with my child my joys are buried. FRIAR LAWRENCE Peace, ho, for shame! Confusion's cure lives not In these confusions. Heaven and yourself Had part in this fair maid. Now heaven hath all, And all the better is it for the maid. Your part in her you could not keep from death, But heaven keeps his part in eternal life. The most you sought was her promotion, For 'twas your heaven she should be advanced; And weep you now, seeing she is advanced Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself? O, in this love you love your child so ill That you run mad, seeing that she is well. She's not well married that lives married long, But she's best married that dies married young. Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary On this fair corse, and, as the custom is, And in her best array, bear her to church, For though fond nature bids us all lament, Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment. CAPULET All things that we ordained festival Turn from their office to black funeral: Our instruments to melancholy bells, Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast, Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change, Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse, And all things change them to the contrary. FRIAR LAWRENCE Sir, go you in, and, madam, go with him, And go, Sir Paris. Everyone prepare To follow this fair corse unto her grave. The heavens do lour upon you for some ill. Move them no more by crossing their high will. [All but the Nurse and the Musicians exit.] FIRST MUSICIAN Faith, we may put up our pipes and be gone. NURSE Honest good fellows, ah, put up, put up, For, well you know, this is a pitiful case. FIRST MUSICIAN Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended. [Nurse exits.] [Enter Peter.] PETER Musicians, O musicians, "Heart's ease," "Heart's ease." O, an you will have me live, play "Heart's ease." FIRST MUSICIAN Why "Heart's ease?" PETER O musicians, because my heart itself plays "My heart is full." O, play me some merry dump to comfort me. FIRST MUSICIAN Not a dump, we. 'Tis no time to play now. PETER You will not then? FIRST MUSICIAN No. PETER I will then give it you soundly. FIRST MUSICIAN What will you give us? PETER No money, on my faith, but the gleek. I will give you the minstrel. FIRST MUSICIAN Then will I give you the serving-creature. PETER Then will I lay the serving-creature's dagger on your pate. I will carry no crochets. I'll re you, I'll fa you. Do you note me? FIRST MUSICIAN An you re us and fa us, you note us. SECOND MUSICIAN Pray you, put up your dagger and put out your wit. PETER Then have at you with my wit. I will dry-beat you with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger. Answer me like men. [Sings.] When griping griefs the heart doth wound And doleful dumps the mind oppress, Then music with her silver sound-- Why "silver sound"? Why "music with her silver sound"? What say you, Simon Catling? FIRST MUSICIAN Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound. PETER Prates.--What say you, Hugh Rebeck? SECOND MUSICIAN I say "silver sound" because musicians sound for silver. PETER Prates too.--What say you, James Soundpost? THIRD MUSICIAN Faith, I know not what to say. PETER O, I cry you mercy. You are the singer. I will say for you. It is "music with her silver sound" because musicians have no gold for sounding: [Sings.] Then music with her silver sound With speedy help doth lend redress. [He exits.] FIRST MUSICIAN What a pestilent knave is this same! SECOND MUSICIAN Hang him, Jack. Come, we'll in here, tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner. [They exit.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Romeo.] ROMEO If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep, My dreams presage some joyful news at hand. My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne, And all this day an unaccustomed spirit Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts. I dreamt my lady came and found me dead (Strange dream that gives a dead man leave to think!) And breathed such life with kisses in my lips That I revived and was an emperor. Ah me, how sweet is love itself possessed When but love's shadows are so rich in joy! [Enter Romeo's man Balthasar, in riding boots.] News from Verona!--How now, Balthasar? Dost thou not bring me letters from the Friar? How doth my lady? Is my father well? How doth my Juliet? That I ask again, For nothing can be ill if she be well. BALTHASAR Then she is well and nothing can be ill. Her body sleeps in Capels' monument, And her immortal part with angels lives. I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault And presently took post to tell it you. O, pardon me for bringing these ill news, Since you did leave it for my office, sir. ROMEO Is it e'en so?--Then I deny you, stars!-- Thou knowest my lodging. Get me ink and paper, And hire post-horses. I will hence tonight. BALTHASAR I do beseech you, sir, have patience. Your looks are pale and wild and do import Some misadventure. ROMEO Tush, thou art deceived. Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do. Hast thou no letters to me from the Friar? BALTHASAR No, my good lord. ROMEO No matter. Get thee gone, And hire those horses. I'll be with thee straight. [Balthasar exits.] Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee tonight. Let's see for means. O mischief, thou art swift To enter in the thoughts of desperate men. I do remember an apothecary (And hereabouts he dwells) which late I noted In tattered weeds, with overwhelming brows, Culling of simples. Meager were his looks. Sharp misery had worn him to the bones. And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, An alligator stuffed, and other skins Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves, A beggarly account of empty boxes, Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds, Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses Were thinly scattered to make up a show. Noting this penury, to myself I said "An if a man did need a poison now, Whose sale is present death in Mantua, Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him." O, this same thought did but forerun my need, And this same needy man must sell it me. As I remember, this should be the house. Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.-- What ho, Apothecary! [Enter Apothecary.] APOTHECARY Who calls so loud? ROMEO Come hither, man. I see that thou art poor. [He offers money.] Hold, there is forty ducats. Let me have A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear As will disperse itself through all the veins, That the life-weary taker may fall dead, And that the trunk may be discharged of breath As violently as hasty powder fired Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb. APOTHECARY Such mortal drugs I have, but Mantua's law Is death to any he that utters them. ROMEO Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness, And fearest to die? Famine is in thy cheeks, Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes, Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back. The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law. The world affords no law to make thee rich. Then be not poor, but break it, and take this. APOTHECARY My poverty, but not my will, consents. ROMEO I pay thy poverty and not thy will. APOTHECARY, [giving him the poison] Put this in any liquid thing you will And drink it off, and if you had the strength Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight. ROMEO, [handing him the money] There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murder in this loathsome world Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell. I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none. Farewell, buy food, and get thyself in flesh. [Apothecary exits.] Come, cordial and not poison, go with me To Juliet's grave, for there must I use thee. [He exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Friar John.] FRIAR JOHN Holy Franciscan friar, brother, ho! [Enter Friar Lawrence.] FRIAR LAWRENCE This same should be the voice of Friar John.-- Welcome from Mantua. What says Romeo? Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter. FRIAR JOHN Going to find a barefoot brother out, One of our order, to associate me, Here in this city visiting the sick, And finding him, the searchers of the town, Suspecting that we both were in a house Where the infectious pestilence did reign, Sealed up the doors and would not let us forth, So that my speed to Mantua there was stayed. FRIAR LAWRENCE Who bare my letter, then, to Romeo? FRIAR JOHN I could not send it--here it is again-- [Returning the letter.] Nor get a messenger to bring it thee, So fearful were they of infection. FRIAR LAWRENCE Unhappy fortune! By my brotherhood, The letter was not nice but full of charge, Of dear import, and the neglecting it May do much danger. Friar John, go hence. Get me an iron crow and bring it straight Unto my cell. FRIAR JOHN Brother, I'll go and bring it thee. [He exits.] FRIAR LAWRENCE Now must I to the monument alone. Within this three hours will fair Juliet wake. She will beshrew me much that Romeo Hath had no notice of these accidents. But I will write again to Mantua, And keep her at my cell till Romeo come. Poor living corse, closed in a dead man's tomb! [He exits.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Paris and his Page.] PARIS Give me thy torch, boy. Hence and stand aloof. Yet put it out, for I would not be seen. Under yond yew trees lay thee all along, Holding thy ear close to the hollow ground. So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread (Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves) But thou shalt hear it. Whistle then to me As signal that thou hearest something approach. Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee. Go. PAGE, [aside] I am almost afraid to stand alone Here in the churchyard. Yet I will adventure. [He moves away from Paris.] PARIS, [scattering flowers] Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew (O woe, thy canopy is dust and stones!) Which with sweet water nightly I will dew, Or, wanting that, with tears distilled by moans. The obsequies that I for thee will keep Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep. [Page whistles.] The boy gives warning something doth approach. What cursed foot wanders this way tonight, To cross my obsequies and true love's rite? What, with a torch? Muffle me, night, awhile. [He steps aside.] [Enter Romeo and Balthasar.] ROMEO Give me that mattock and the wrenching iron. Hold, take this letter. Early in the morning See thou deliver it to my lord and father. Give me the light. Upon thy life I charge thee, Whate'er thou hearest or seest, stand all aloof And do not interrupt me in my course. Why I descend into this bed of death Is partly to behold my lady's face, But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger A precious ring, a ring that I must use In dear employment. Therefore hence, begone. But, if thou, jealous, dost return to pry In what I farther shall intend to do, By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs. The time and my intents are savage-wild, More fierce and more inexorable far Than empty tigers or the roaring sea. BALTHASAR I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you. ROMEO So shalt thou show me friendship. Take thou that. [Giving money.] Live and be prosperous, and farewell, good fellow. BALTHASAR, [aside] For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout. His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt. [He steps aside.] ROMEO, [beginning to force open the tomb] Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death, Gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth, Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open, And in despite I'll cram thee with more food. PARIS This is that banished haughty Montague That murdered my love's cousin, with which grief It is supposed the fair creature died, And here is come to do some villainous shame To the dead bodies. I will apprehend him. [Stepping forward.] Stop thy unhallowed toil, vile Montague. Can vengeance be pursued further than death? Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee. Obey and go with me, for thou must die. ROMEO I must indeed, and therefore came I hither. Good gentle youth, tempt not a desp'rate man. Fly hence and leave me. Think upon these gone. Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth, Put not another sin upon my head By urging me to fury. O, begone! By heaven, I love thee better than myself, For I come hither armed against myself. Stay not, begone, live, and hereafter say A madman's mercy bid thee run away. PARIS I do defy thy commination And apprehend thee for a felon here. ROMEO Wilt thou provoke me? Then have at thee, boy! [They draw and fight.] PAGE O Lord, they fight! I will go call the watch. [He exits.] PARIS O, I am slain! If thou be merciful, Open the tomb; lay me with Juliet. [He dies.] ROMEO In faith, I will.--Let me peruse this face. Mercutio's kinsman, noble County Paris! What said my man when my betossed soul Did not attend him as we rode? I think He told me Paris should have married Juliet. Said he not so? Or did I dream it so? Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet, To think it was so?--O, give me thy hand, One writ with me in sour misfortune's book! I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave.-- [He opens the tomb.] A grave? O, no. A lantern, slaughtered youth, For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes This vault a feasting presence full of light.-- Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interred. [Laying Paris in the tomb.] How oft when men are at the point of death Have they been merry, which their keepers call A light'ning before death! O, how may I Call this a light'ning?--O my love, my wife, Death, that hath sucked the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty. Thou art not conquered. Beauty's ensign yet Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, And death's pale flag is not advanced there.-- Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet? O, what more favor can I do to thee Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain To sunder his that was thine enemy? Forgive me, cousin.--Ah, dear Juliet, Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe That unsubstantial death is amorous, And that the lean abhorred monster keeps Thee here in dark to be his paramour? For fear of that I still will stay with thee And never from this palace of dim night Depart again. Here, here will I remain With worms that are thy chambermaids. O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From this world-wearied flesh! Eyes, look your last. Arms, take your last embrace. And, lips, O, you The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss A dateless bargain to engrossing death. [Kissing Juliet.] Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavory guide! Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on The dashing rocks thy seasick weary bark! Here's to my love. [Drinking.] O true apothecary, Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die. [He dies.] [Enter Friar Lawrence with lantern, crow, and spade.] FRIAR LAWRENCE Saint Francis be my speed! How oft tonight Have my old feet stumbled at graves!--Who's there? BALTHASAR Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well. FRIAR LAWRENCE Bliss be upon you. Tell me, good my friend, What torch is yond that vainly lends his light To grubs and eyeless skulls? As I discern, It burneth in the Capels' monument. BALTHASAR It doth so, holy sir, and there's my master, One that you love. FRIAR LAWRENCE Who is it? BALTHASAR Romeo. FRIAR LAWRENCE How long hath he been there? BALTHASAR Full half an hour. FRIAR LAWRENCE Go with me to the vault. BALTHASAR I dare not, sir. My master knows not but I am gone hence, And fearfully did menace me with death If I did stay to look on his intents. FRIAR LAWRENCE Stay, then. I'll go alone. Fear comes upon me. O, much I fear some ill unthrifty thing. BALTHASAR As I did sleep under this yew tree here, I dreamt my master and another fought, And that my master slew him. FRIAR LAWRENCE, [moving toward the tomb] Romeo!-- Alack, alack, what blood is this which stains The stony entrance of this sepulcher? What mean these masterless and gory swords To lie discolored by this place of peace? Romeo! O, pale! Who else? What, Paris too? And steeped in blood? Ah, what an unkind hour Is guilty of this lamentable chance! The lady stirs. JULIET O comfortable friar, where is my lord? I do remember well where I should be, And there I am. Where is my Romeo? FRIAR LAWRENCE I hear some noise.--Lady, come from that nest Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep. A greater power than we can contradict Hath thwarted our intents. Come, come away. Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead, And Paris, too. Come, I'll dispose of thee Among a sisterhood of holy nuns. Stay not to question, for the watch is coming. Come, go, good Juliet. I dare no longer stay. JULIET Go, get thee hence, for I will not away. [He exits.] What's here? A cup closed in my true love's hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end.-- O churl, drunk all, and left no friendly drop To help me after! I will kiss thy lips. Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, To make me die with a restorative. [She kisses him.] Thy lips are warm! [Enter Paris's Page and Watch.] FIRST WATCH Lead, boy. Which way? JULIET Yea, noise? Then I'll be brief. O, happy dagger, This is thy sheath. There rust, and let me die. [She takes Romeo's dagger, stabs herself, and dies.] PAGE This is the place, there where the torch doth burn. FIRST WATCH The ground is bloody.--Search about the churchyard. Go, some of you; whoe'er you find, attach. [Some watchmen exit.] Pitiful sight! Here lies the County slain, And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead, Who here hath lain this two days buried.-- Go, tell the Prince. Run to the Capulets. Raise up the Montagues. Some others search. [Others exit.] We see the ground whereon these woes do lie, But the true ground of all these piteous woes We cannot without circumstance descry. [Enter Watchmen with Romeo's man Balthasar.] SECOND WATCH Here's Romeo's man. We found him in the churchyard. FIRST WATCH Hold him in safety till the Prince come hither. [Enter Friar Lawrence and another Watchman.] THIRD WATCH Here is a friar that trembles, sighs, and weeps. We took this mattock and this spade from him As he was coming from this churchyard's side. FIRST WATCH A great suspicion. Stay the Friar too. [Enter the Prince with Attendants.] PRINCE What misadventure is so early up That calls our person from our morning rest? [Enter Capulet and Lady Capulet.] CAPULET What should it be that is so shrieked abroad? LADY CAPULET O, the people in the street cry "Romeo," Some "Juliet," and some "Paris," and all run With open outcry toward our monument. PRINCE What fear is this which startles in our ears? FIRST WATCH Sovereign, here lies the County Paris slain, And Romeo dead, and Juliet, dead before, Warm and new killed. PRINCE Search, seek, and know how this foul murder comes. FIRST WATCH Here is a friar, and slaughtered Romeo's man, With instruments upon them fit to open These dead men's tombs. CAPULET O heavens! O wife, look how our daughter bleeds! This dagger hath mista'en, for, lo, his house Is empty on the back of Montague, And it mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom. LADY CAPULET O me, this sight of death is as a bell That warns my old age to a sepulcher. [Enter Montague.] PRINCE Come, Montague, for thou art early up To see thy son and heir now early down. MONTAGUE Alas, my liege, my wife is dead tonight. Grief of my son's exile hath stopped her breath. What further woe conspires against mine age? PRINCE Look, and thou shalt see. MONTAGUE, [seeing Romeo dead] O thou untaught! What manners is in this, To press before thy father to a grave? PRINCE Seal up the mouth of outrage for awhile, Till we can clear these ambiguities And know their spring, their head, their true descent, And then will I be general of your woes And lead you even to death. Meantime forbear, And let mischance be slave to patience.-- Bring forth the parties of suspicion. FRIAR LAWRENCE I am the greatest, able to do least, Yet most suspected, as the time and place Doth make against me, of this direful murder. And here I stand, both to impeach and purge Myself condemned and myself excused. PRINCE Then say at once what thou dost know in this. FRIAR LAWRENCE I will be brief, for my short date of breath Is not so long as is a tedious tale. Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet, And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife. I married them, and their stol'n marriage day Was Tybalt's doomsday, whose untimely death Banished the new-made bridegroom from this city, For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pined. You, to remove that siege of grief from her, Betrothed and would have married her perforce To County Paris. Then comes she to me, And with wild looks bid me devise some mean To rid her from this second marriage, Or in my cell there would she kill herself. Then gave I her (so tutored by my art) A sleeping potion, which so took effect As I intended, for it wrought on her The form of death. Meantime I writ to Romeo That he should hither come as this dire night To help to take her from her borrowed grave, Being the time the potion's force should cease. But he which bore my letter, Friar John, Was stayed by accident, and yesternight Returned my letter back. Then all alone At the prefixed hour of her waking Came I to take her from her kindred's vault, Meaning to keep her closely at my cell Till I conveniently could send to Romeo. But when I came, some minute ere the time Of her awakening, here untimely lay The noble Paris and true Romeo dead. She wakes, and I entreated her come forth And bear this work of heaven with patience. But then a noise did scare me from the tomb, And she, too desperate, would not go with me But, as it seems, did violence on herself. All this I know, and to the marriage Her nurse is privy. And if aught in this Miscarried by my fault, let my old life Be sacrificed some hour before his time Unto the rigor of severest law. PRINCE We still have known thee for a holy man.-- Where's Romeo's man? What can he say to this? BALTHASAR I brought my master news of Juliet's death, And then in post he came from Mantua To this same place, to this same monument. This letter he early bid me give his father And threatened me with death, going in the vault, If I departed not and left him there. PRINCE Give me the letter. I will look on it.-- [He takes Romeo's letter.] Where is the County's page, that raised the watch?-- Sirrah, what made your master in this place? PAGE He came with flowers to strew his lady's grave And bid me stand aloof, and so I did. Anon comes one with light to ope the tomb, And by and by my master drew on him, And then I ran away to call the watch. PRINCE This letter doth make good the Friar's words, Their course of love, the tidings of her death; And here he writes that he did buy a poison Of a poor 'pothecary, and therewithal Came to this vault to die and lie with Juliet. Where be these enemies?--Capulet, Montague, See what a scourge is laid upon your hate, That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love, And I, for winking at your discords too, Have lost a brace of kinsmen. All are punished. CAPULET O brother Montague, give me thy hand. This is my daughter's jointure, for no more Can I demand. MONTAGUE But I can give thee more, For I will ray her statue in pure gold, That whiles Verona by that name is known, There shall no figure at such rate be set As that of true and faithful Juliet. CAPULET As rich shall Romeo's by his lady's lie, Poor sacrifices of our enmity. PRINCE A glooming peace this morning with it brings. The sun for sorrow will not show his head. Go hence to have more talk of these sad things. Some shall be pardoned, and some punished. For never was a story of more woe Than this of Juliet and her Romeo. [All exit.]

The Comedy of Errors by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== EGEON, a merchant from Syracuse Solinus, DUKE of Ephesus ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE, a traveler in search of his mother and his brother DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, Antipholus of Syracuse's servant FIRST MERCHANT, a citizen of Ephesus ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, a citizen of Ephesus DROMIO OF EPHESUS, Antipholus of Ephesus's servant ADRIANA, Antipholus of Ephesus's wife LUCIANA, Adriana's sister LUCE (also called Nell), kitchen maid betrothed to Dromio of Ephesus MESSENGER, servant to Antipholus of Ephesus and Adriana ANGELO, an Ephesian goldsmith SECOND MERCHANT, a citizen of Ephesus to whom Angelo owes money BALTHASAR, an Ephesian merchant invited to dinner by Antipholus of Ephesus COURTESAN, hostess of Antipholus of Ephesus at dinner DR. PINCH, a schoolmaster, engaged as an exorcist OFFICER (also called Jailer), an Ephesian law officer LADY ABBESS (also called Emilia), head of a priory in Ephesus Attendants, Servants to Pinch, Headsman, Officers ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Solinus the Duke of Ephesus, with Egeon the Merchant of Syracuse, Jailer, and other Attendants.] EGEON Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall, And by the doom of death end woes and all. DUKE Merchant of Syracusa, plead no more. I am not partial to infringe our laws. The enmity and discord which of late Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your duke To merchants, our well-dealing countrymen, Who, wanting guilders to redeem their lives, Have sealed his rigorous statutes with their bloods, Excludes all pity from our threat'ning looks. For since the mortal and intestine jars 'Twixt thy seditious countrymen and us, It hath in solemn synods been decreed, Both by the Syracusians and ourselves, To admit no traffic to our adverse towns. Nay, more, if any born at Ephesus Be seen at Syracusian marts and fairs; Again, if any Syracusian born Come to the bay of Ephesus, he dies, His goods confiscate to the Duke's dispose, Unless a thousand marks be levied To quit the penalty and to ransom him. Thy substance, valued at the highest rate, Cannot amount unto a hundred marks; Therefore by law thou art condemned to die. EGEON Yet this my comfort: when your words are done, My woes end likewise with the evening sun. DUKE Well, Syracusian, say in brief the cause Why thou departedst from thy native home And for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus. EGEON A heavier task could not have been imposed Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable; Yet, that the world may witness that my end Was wrought by nature, not by vile offense, I'll utter what my sorrow gives me leave. In Syracusa was I born, and wed Unto a woman happy but for me, And by me, had not our hap been bad. With her I lived in joy. Our wealth increased By prosperous voyages I often made To Epidamium, till my factor's death And the great care of goods at random left Drew me from kind embracements of my spouse; From whom my absence was not six months old Before herself--almost at fainting under The pleasing punishment that women bear-- Had made provision for her following me And soon and safe arrived where I was. There had she not been long but she became A joyful mother of two goodly sons, And, which was strange, the one so like the other As could not be distinguished but by names. That very hour, and in the selfsame inn, A mean woman was delivered Of such a burden, male twins, both alike. Those, for their parents were exceeding poor, I bought and brought up to attend my sons. My wife, not meanly proud of two such boys, Made daily motions for our home return. Unwilling, I agreed. Alas, too soon We came aboard. A league from Epidamium had we sailed Before the always-wind-obeying deep Gave any tragic instance of our harm; But longer did we not retain much hope, For what obscured light the heavens did grant Did but convey unto our fearful minds A doubtful warrant of immediate death, Which though myself would gladly have embraced, Yet the incessant weepings of my wife, Weeping before for what she saw must come, And piteous plainings of the pretty babes, That mourned for fashion, ignorant what to fear, Forced me to seek delays for them and me. And this it was, for other means was none: The sailors sought for safety by our boat And left the ship, then sinking-ripe, to us. My wife, more careful for the latter-born, Had fastened him unto a small spare mast, Such as seafaring men provide for storms. To him one of the other twins was bound, Whilst I had been like heedful of the other. The children thus disposed, my wife and I, Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fixed, Fastened ourselves at either end the mast And, floating straight, obedient to the stream, Was carried towards Corinth, as we thought. At length the sun, gazing upon the earth, Dispersed those vapors that offended us, And by the benefit of his wished light The seas waxed calm, and we discovered Two ships from far, making amain to us, Of Corinth that, of Epidaurus this. But ere they came--O, let me say no more! Gather the sequel by that went before. DUKE Nay, forward, old man. Do not break off so, For we may pity though not pardon thee. EGEON O, had the gods done so, I had not now Worthily termed them merciless to us. For, ere the ships could meet by twice five leagues, We were encountered by a mighty rock, Which being violently borne upon, Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst; So that, in this unjust divorce of us, Fortune had left to both of us alike What to delight in, what to sorrow for. Her part, poor soul, seeming as burdened With lesser weight, but not with lesser woe, Was carried with more speed before the wind, And in our sight they three were taken up By fishermen of Corinth, as we thought. At length, another ship had seized on us And, knowing whom it was their hap to save, Gave healthful welcome to their shipwracked guests, And would have reft the fishers of their prey Had not their bark been very slow of sail; And therefore homeward did they bend their course. Thus have you heard me severed from my bliss, That by misfortunes was my life prolonged To tell sad stories of my own mishaps. DUKE And for the sake of them thou sorrowest for, Do me the favor to dilate at full What have befall'n of them and thee till now. EGEON My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care, At eighteen years became inquisitive After his brother, and importuned me That his attendant--so his case was like, Reft of his brother, but retained his name-- Might bear him company in the quest of him, Whom whilst I labored of a love to see, I hazarded the loss of whom I loved. Five summers have I spent in farthest Greece, Roaming clean through the bounds of Asia, And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus, Hopeless to find, yet loath to leave unsought Or that or any place that harbors men. But here must end the story of my life; And happy were I in my timely death Could all my travels warrant me they live. DUKE Hapless Egeon, whom the fates have marked To bear the extremity of dire mishap, Now, trust me, were it not against our laws, Against my crown, my oath, my dignity, Which princes, would they, may not disannul, My soul should sue as advocate for thee. But though thou art adjudged to the death, And passed sentence may not be recalled But to our honor's great disparagement, Yet will I favor thee in what I can. Therefore, merchant, I'll limit thee this day To seek thy life by beneficial help. Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus; Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum, And live. If no, then thou art doomed to die.-- Jailer, take him to thy custody. JAILER I will, my lord. EGEON Hopeless and helpless doth Egeon wend, But to procrastinate his lifeless end. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Antipholus of Syracuse, First Merchant, and Dromio of Syracuse.] FIRST MERCHANT Therefore give out you are of Epidamium, Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate. This very day a Syracusian merchant Is apprehended for arrival here And, not being able to buy out his life, According to the statute of the town Dies ere the weary sun set in the west. There is your money that I had to keep. [He gives money.] ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE, [handing money to Dromio] Go bear it to the Centaur, where we host, And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee. Within this hour it will be dinnertime. Till that, I'll view the manners of the town, Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings, And then return and sleep within mine inn, For with long travel I am stiff and weary. Get thee away. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Many a man would take you at your word And go indeed, having so good a mean. [Dromio of Syracuse exits.] ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE A trusty villain, sir, that very oft, When I am dull with care and melancholy, Lightens my humor with his merry jests. What, will you walk with me about the town And then go to my inn and dine with me? FIRST MERCHANT I am invited, sir, to certain merchants, Of whom I hope to make much benefit. I crave your pardon. Soon at five o'clock, Please you, I'll meet with you upon the mart And afterward consort you till bedtime. My present business calls me from you now. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Farewell till then. I will go lose myself And wander up and down to view the city. FIRST MERCHANT Sir, I commend you to your own content. [He exits.] ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE He that commends me to mine own content Commends me to the thing I cannot get. I to the world am like a drop of water That in the ocean seeks another drop, Who, falling there to find his fellow forth, Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself. So I, to find a mother and a brother, In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself. [Enter Dromio of Ephesus.] Here comes the almanac of my true date.-- What now? How chance thou art returned so soon? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Returned so soon? Rather approached too late! The capon burns; the pig falls from the spit; The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell; My mistress made it one upon my cheek. She is so hot because the meat is cold; The meat is cold because you come not home; You come not home because you have no stomach; You have no stomach, having broke your fast. But we that know what 'tis to fast and pray Are penitent for your default today. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Stop in your wind, sir. Tell me this, I pray: Where have you left the money that I gave you? DROMIO OF EPHESUS O, sixpence that I had o' Wednesday last To pay the saddler for my mistress' crupper? The saddler had it, sir; I kept it not. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE I am not in a sportive humor now. Tell me, and dally not: where is the money? We being strangers here, how dar'st thou trust So great a charge from thine own custody? DROMIO OF EPHESUS I pray you, jest, sir, as you sit at dinner. I from my mistress come to you in post; If I return, I shall be post indeed, For she will scour your fault upon my pate. Methinks your maw, like mine, should be your clock, And strike you home without a messenger. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Come, Dromio, come, these jests are out of season. Reserve them till a merrier hour than this. Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee? DROMIO OF EPHESUS To me, sir? Why, you gave no gold to me! ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Come on, sir knave, have done your foolishness, And tell me how thou hast disposed thy charge. DROMIO OF EPHESUS My charge was but to fetch you from the mart Home to your house, the Phoenix, sir, to dinner. My mistress and her sister stays for you. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Now, as I am a Christian, answer me In what safe place you have bestowed my money, Or I shall break that merry sconce of yours That stands on tricks when I am undisposed. Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of me? DROMIO OF EPHESUS I have some marks of yours upon my pate, Some of my mistress' marks upon my shoulders, But not a thousand marks between you both. If I should pay your Worship those again, Perchance you will not bear them patiently. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Thy mistress' marks? What mistress, slave, hast thou? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Your Worship's wife, my mistress at the Phoenix, She that doth fast till you come home to dinner And prays that you will hie you home to dinner. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE, [beating Dromio] What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my face, Being forbid? There, take you that, sir knave. DROMIO OF EPHESUS What mean you, sir? For God's sake, hold your hands. Nay, an you will not, sir, I'll take my heels. [Dromio of Ephesus exits.] ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Upon my life, by some device or other The villain is o'erraught of all my money. They say this town is full of cozenage, As nimble jugglers that deceive the eye, Dark-working sorcerers that change the mind, Soul-killing witches that deform the body, Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks, And many suchlike liberties of sin. If it prove so, I will be gone the sooner. I'll to the Centaur to go seek this slave. I greatly fear my money is not safe. [He exits.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Adriana, wife to Antipholus of Ephesus, with Luciana, her sister.] ADRIANA Neither my husband nor the slave returned That in such haste I sent to seek his master? Sure, Luciana, it is two o'clock. LUCIANA Perhaps some merchant hath invited him, And from the mart he's somewhere gone to dinner. Good sister, let us dine, and never fret. A man is master of his liberty; Time is their master, and when they see time They'll go or come. If so, be patient, sister. ADRIANA Why should their liberty than ours be more? LUCIANA Because their business still lies out o' door. ADRIANA Look when I serve him so, he takes it ill. LUCIANA O, know he is the bridle of your will. ADRIANA There's none but asses will be bridled so. LUCIANA Why, headstrong liberty is lashed with woe. There's nothing situate under heaven's eye But hath his bound in earth, in sea, in sky. The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls Are their males' subjects and at their controls. Man, more divine, the master of all these, Lord of the wide world and wild wat'ry seas, Endued with intellectual sense and souls, Of more preeminence than fish and fowls, Are masters to their females, and their lords. Then let your will attend on their accords. ADRIANA This servitude makes you to keep unwed. LUCIANA Not this, but troubles of the marriage bed. ADRIANA But, were you wedded, you would bear some sway. LUCIANA Ere I learn love, I'll practice to obey. ADRIANA How if your husband start some otherwhere? LUCIANA Till he come home again, I would forbear. ADRIANA Patience unmoved! No marvel though she pause; They can be meek that have no other cause. A wretched soul bruised with adversity We bid be quiet when we hear it cry, But were we burdened with like weight of pain, As much or more we should ourselves complain. So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee, With urging helpless patience would relieve me; But if thou live to see like right bereft, This fool-begged patience in thee will be left. LUCIANA Well, I will marry one day, but to try. Here comes your man. Now is your husband nigh. [Enter Dromio of Ephesus.] ADRIANA Say, is your tardy master now at hand? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Nay, he's at two hands with me, and that my two ears can witness. ADRIANA Say, didst thou speak with him? Know'st thou his mind? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine ear. Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand it. LUCIANA Spake he so doubtfully thou couldst not feel his meaning? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Nay, he struck so plainly I could too well feel his blows, and withal so doubtfully that I could scarce understand them. ADRIANA But say, I prithee, is he coming home? It seems he hath great care to please his wife. DROMIO OF EPHESUS Why, mistress, sure my master is horn mad. ADRIANA Horn mad, thou villain? DROMIO OF EPHESUS I mean not cuckold mad, But sure he is stark mad. When I desired him to come home to dinner, He asked me for a thousand marks in gold. "'Tis dinnertime," quoth I. "My gold," quoth he. "Your meat doth burn," quoth I. "My gold," quoth he. "Will you come?" quoth I. "My gold," quoth he. "Where is the thousand marks I gave thee, villain?" "The pig," quoth I, "is burned." "My gold," quoth he. "My mistress, sir," quoth I. "Hang up thy mistress! I know not thy mistress. Out on thy mistress!" LUCIANA Quoth who? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Quoth my master. "I know," quoth he, "no house, no wife, no mistress." So that my errand, due unto my tongue, I thank him, I bare home upon my shoulders, For, in conclusion, he did beat me there. ADRIANA Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home. DROMIO OF EPHESUS Go back again and be new beaten home? For God's sake, send some other messenger. ADRIANA Back, slave, or I will break thy pate across. DROMIO OF EPHESUS And he will bless that cross with other beating. Between you, I shall have a holy head. ADRIANA Hence, prating peasant. Fetch thy master home. DROMIO OF EPHESUS Am I so round with you as you with me, That like a football you do spurn me thus? You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither. If I last in this service, you must case me in leather. [He exits.] LUCIANA Fie, how impatience loureth in your face. ADRIANA His company must do his minions grace, Whilst I at home starve for a merry look. Hath homely age th' alluring beauty took From my poor cheek? Then he hath wasted it. Are my discourses dull? Barren my wit? If voluble and sharp discourse be marred, Unkindness blunts it more than marble hard. Do their gay vestments his affections bait? That's not my fault; he's master of my state. What ruins are in me that can be found By him not ruined? Then is he the ground Of my defeatures. My decayed fair A sunny look of his would soon repair. But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale And feeds from home. Poor I am but his stale. LUCIANA Self-harming jealousy, fie, beat it hence. ADRIANA Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispense. I know his eye doth homage otherwhere, Or else what lets it but he would be here? Sister, you know he promised me a chain. Would that alone o' love he would detain, So he would keep fair quarter with his bed. I see the jewel best enameled Will lose his beauty. Yet the gold bides still That others touch, and often touching will Wear gold; yet no man that hath a name By falsehood and corruption doth it shame. Since that my beauty cannot please his eye, I'll weep what's left away, and weeping die. LUCIANA How many fond fools serve mad jealousy! [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Antipholus of Syracuse.] ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE The gold I gave to Dromio is laid up Safe at the Centaur, and the heedful slave Is wandered forth in care to seek me out. By computation and mine host's report, I could not speak with Dromio since at first I sent him from the mart. See, here he comes. [Enter Dromio of Syracuse.] How now, sir? Is your merry humor altered? As you love strokes, so jest with me again. You know no Centaur? You received no gold? Your mistress sent to have me home to dinner? My house was at the Phoenix? Wast thou mad, That thus so madly thou didst answer me? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE What answer, sir? When spake I such a word? ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Even now, even here, not half an hour since. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I did not see you since you sent me hence, Home to the Centaur with the gold you gave me. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Villain, thou didst deny the gold's receipt And told'st me of a mistress and a dinner, For which I hope thou felt'st I was displeased. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I am glad to see you in this merry vein. What means this jest, I pray you, master, tell me? ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Yea, dost thou jeer and flout me in the teeth? Think'st thou I jest? Hold, take thou that and that. [Beats Dromio.] DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Hold, sir, for God's sake! Now your jest is earnest. Upon what bargain do you give it me? ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Because that I familiarly sometimes Do use you for my fool and chat with you, Your sauciness will jest upon my love And make a common of my serious hours. When the sun shines, let foolish gnats make sport, But creep in crannies when he hides his beams. If you will jest with me, know my aspect, And fashion your demeanor to my looks, Or I will beat this method in your sconce. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE "Sconce" call you it? So you would leave battering, I had rather have it a "head." An you use these blows long, I must get a sconce for my head and ensconce it too, or else I shall seek my wit in my shoulders. But I pray, sir, why am I beaten? ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Dost thou not know? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Nothing, sir, but that I am beaten. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Shall I tell you why? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Ay, sir, and wherefore, for they say every why hath a wherefore. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE "Why" first: for flouting me; and then "wherefore": for urging it the second time to me. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Was there ever any man thus beaten out of season, When in the "why" and the "wherefore" is neither rhyme nor reason? Well, sir, I thank you. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Thank me, sir, for what? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Marry, sir, for this something that you gave me for nothing. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE I'll make you amends next, to give you nothing for something. But say, sir, is it dinnertime? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE No, sir, I think the meat wants that I have. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE In good time, sir, what's that? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Basting. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Well, sir, then 'twill be dry. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE If it be, sir, I pray you eat none of it. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Your reason? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Lest it make you choleric and purchase me another dry basting. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Well, sir, learn to jest in good time. There's a time for all things. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I durst have denied that before you were so choleric. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE By what rule, sir? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Marry, sir, by a rule as plain as the plain bald pate of Father Time himself. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Let's hear it. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE There's no time for a man to recover his hair that grows bald by nature. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE May he not do it by fine and recovery? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Yes, to pay a fine for a periwig, and recover the lost hair of another man. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Why is Time such a niggard of hair, being, as it is, so plentiful an excrement? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Because it is a blessing that he bestows on beasts, and what he hath scanted men in hair, he hath given them in wit. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Why, but there's many a man hath more hair than wit. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Not a man of those but he hath the wit to lose his hair. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Why, thou didst conclude hairy men plain dealers without wit. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE The plainer dealer, the sooner lost. Yet he loseth it in a kind of jollity. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE For what reason? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE For two, and sound ones too. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Nay, not sound, I pray you. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Sure ones, then. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Nay, not sure, in a thing falsing. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Certain ones, then. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Name them. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE The one, to save the money that he spends in tiring; the other, that at dinner they should not drop in his porridge. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE You would all this time have proved there is no time for all things. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Marry, and did, sir: namely, e'en no time to recover hair lost by nature. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE But your reason was not substantial why there is no time to recover. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Thus I mend it: Time himself is bald and therefore, to the world's end, will have bald followers. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE I knew 'twould be a bald conclusion. But soft, who wafts us yonder? [Enter Adriana, beckoning them, and Luciana.] ADRIANA Ay, ay, Antipholus, look strange and frown. Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects. I am not Adriana, nor thy wife. The time was once when thou unurged wouldst vow That never words were music to thine ear, That never object pleasing in thine eye, That never touch well welcome to thy hand, That never meat sweet-savored in thy taste, Unless I spake, or looked, or touched, or carved to thee. How comes it now, my husband, O, how comes it That thou art then estranged from thyself? "Thyself" I call it, being strange to me, That, undividable, incorporate, Am better than thy dear self's better part. Ah, do not tear away thyself from me! For know, my love, as easy mayst thou fall A drop of water in the breaking gulf, And take unmingled thence that drop again Without addition or diminishing, As take from me thyself and not me too. How dearly would it touch thee to the quick, Shouldst thou but hear I were licentious And that this body, consecrate to thee, By ruffian lust should be contaminate! Wouldst thou not spit at me, and spurn at me, And hurl the name of husband in my face, And tear the stained skin off my harlot brow, And from my false hand cut the wedding ring, And break it with a deep-divorcing vow? I know thou canst, and therefore see thou do it. I am possessed with an adulterate blot; My blood is mingled with the crime of lust; For if we two be one, and thou play false, I do digest the poison of thy flesh, Being strumpeted by thy contagion. Keep then fair league and truce with thy true bed, I live distained, thou undishonored. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Plead you to me, fair dame? I know you not. In Ephesus I am but two hours old, As strange unto your town as to your talk, Who, every word by all my wit being scanned, Wants wit in all one word to understand. LUCIANA Fie, brother, how the world is changed with you! When were you wont to use my sister thus? She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE By Dromio? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE By me? ADRIANA By thee; and this thou didst return from him: That he did buffet thee and, in his blows, Denied my house for his, me for his wife. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Did you converse, sir, with this gentlewoman? What is the course and drift of your compact? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I, sir? I never saw her till this time. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Villain, thou liest, for even her very words Didst thou deliver to me on the mart. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I never spake with her in all my life. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE How can she thus then call us by our names-- Unless it be by inspiration? ADRIANA How ill agrees it with your gravity To counterfeit thus grossly with your slave, Abetting him to thwart me in my mood. Be it my wrong you are from me exempt, But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt. Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine. [She takes his arm.] Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine, Whose weakness, married to thy stronger state, Makes me with thy strength to communicate. If aught possess thee from me, it is dross, Usurping ivy, brier, or idle moss, Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion Infect thy sap and live on thy confusion. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE, [aside] To me she speaks; she moves me for her theme. What, was I married to her in my dream? Or sleep I now and think I hear all this? What error drives our eyes and ears amiss? Until I know this sure uncertainty I'll entertain the offered fallacy. LUCIANA Dromio, go bid the servants spread for dinner. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE O, for my beads! I cross me for a sinner. [He crosses himself.] This is the fairy land. O spite of spites! We talk with goblins, owls, and sprites. If we obey them not, this will ensue: They'll suck our breath, or pinch us black and blue. LUCIANA Why prat'st thou to thyself and answer'st not? Dromio--thou, Dromio--thou snail, thou slug, thou sot. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I am transformed, master, am I not? ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE I think thou art in mind, and so am I. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Nay, master, both in mind and in my shape. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Thou hast thine own form. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE No, I am an ape. LUCIANA If thou art changed to aught, 'tis to an ass. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE 'Tis true. She rides me, and I long for grass. 'Tis so. I am an ass; else it could never be But I should know her as well as she knows me. ADRIANA Come, come, no longer will I be a fool, To put the finger in the eye and weep Whilst man and master laughs my woes to scorn. Come, sir, to dinner.--Dromio, keep the gate.-- Husband, I'll dine above with you today, And shrive you of a thousand idle pranks. [To Dromio.] Sirrah, if any ask you for your master, Say he dines forth, and let no creature enter.-- Come, sister.--Dromio, play the porter well. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE, [aside] Am I in Earth, in heaven, or in hell? Sleeping or waking, mad or well-advised? Known unto these, and to myself disguised! I'll say as they say, and persever so, And in this mist at all adventures go. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Master, shall I be porter at the gate? ADRIANA Ay, and let none enter, lest I break your pate. LUCIANA Come, come, Antipholus, we dine too late. [They exit.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Antipholus of Ephesus, his man Dromio, Angelo the goldsmith, and Balthasar the merchant.] ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Good Signior Angelo, you must excuse us all; My wife is shrewish when I keep not hours. Say that I lingered with you at your shop To see the making of her carcanet, And that tomorrow you will bring it home. But here's a villain that would face me down He met me on the mart, and that I beat him And charged him with a thousand marks in gold, And that I did deny my wife and house.-- Thou drunkard, thou, what didst thou mean by this? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Say what you will, sir, but I know what I know. That you beat me at the mart I have your hand to show; If the skin were parchment and the blows you gave were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I think. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS I think thou art an ass. DROMIO OF EPHESUS Marry, so it doth appear By the wrongs I suffer and the blows I bear. I should kick being kicked and, being at that pass, You would keep from my heels and beware of an ass. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS You're sad, Signior Balthasar. Pray God our cheer May answer my goodwill and your good welcome here. BALTHASAR I hold your dainties cheap, sir, and your welcome dear. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS O Signior Balthasar, either at flesh or fish A table full of welcome makes scarce one dainty dish. BALTHASAR Good meat, sir, is common; that every churl affords. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS And welcome more common, for that's nothing but words. BALTHASAR Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Ay, to a niggardly host and more sparing guest. But though my cates be mean, take them in good part. Better cheer may you have, but not with better heart. [He attempts to open the door.] But soft! My door is locked. [To Dromio.] Go, bid them let us in. DROMIO OF EPHESUS Maud, Bridget, Marian, Ciceley, Gillian, Ginn! DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, [within] Mome, malt-horse, capon, coxcomb, idiot, patch! Either get thee from the door or sit down at the hatch. Dost thou conjure for wenches, that thou call'st for such store When one is one too many? Go, get thee from the door. DROMIO OF EPHESUS What patch is made our porter? My master stays in the street. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, [within] Let him walk from whence he came, lest he catch cold on 's feet. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Who talks within there? Ho, open the door. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, [within] Right, sir, I'll tell you when an you'll tell me wherefore. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Wherefore? For my dinner. I have not dined today. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, [within] Nor today here you must not. Come again when you may. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS What art thou that keep'st me out from the house I owe? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, [within] The porter for this time, sir, and my name is Dromio. DROMIO OF EPHESUS O villain, thou hast stolen both mine office and my name! The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle blame. If thou hadst been Dromio today in my place, Thou wouldst have changed thy face for a name, or thy name for an ass. [Enter Luce above, unseen by Antipholus of Ephesus and his company.] LUCE What a coil is there, Dromio! Who are those at the gate? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Let my master in, Luce. LUCE Faith, no, he comes too late, And so tell your master. DROMIO OF EPHESUS O Lord, I must laugh. Have at you with a proverb: shall I set in my staff? LUCE Have at you with another: that's--When, can you tell? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, [within] If thy name be called "Luce," Luce, thou hast answered him well. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, [to Luce] Do you hear, you minion? You'll let us in, I hope? LUCE I thought to have asked you. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, [within] And you said no. DROMIO OF EPHESUS So, come help. Well struck! There was blow for blow. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, [to Luce] Thou baggage, let me in. LUCE Can you tell for whose sake? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Master, knock the door hard. LUCE Let him knock till it ache. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS You'll cry for this, minion, if I beat the door down. [He beats on the door.] LUCE What needs all that, and a pair of stocks in the town? [Enter Adriana, above, unseen by Antipholus of Ephesus and his company.] ADRIANA Who is that at the door that keeps all this noise? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, [within] By my troth, your town is troubled with unruly boys. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Are you there, wife? You might have come before. ADRIANA Your wife, sir knave? Go, get you from the door. [Adriana and Luce exit.] DROMIO OF EPHESUS If you went in pain, master, this knave would go sore. ANGELO, [to Antipholus of Ephesus] Here is neither cheer, sir, nor welcome. We would fain have either. BALTHASAR In debating which was best, we shall part with neither. DROMIO OF EPHESUS They stand at the door, master. Bid them welcome hither. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS There is something in the wind, that we cannot get in. DROMIO OF EPHESUS You would say so, master, if your garments were thin. Your cake here is warm within; you stand here in the cold. It would make a man mad as a buck to be so bought and sold. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Go, fetch me something. I'll break ope the gate. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, [within] Break any breaking here, and I'll break your knave's pate. DROMIO OF EPHESUS A man may break a word with you, sir, and words are but wind, Ay, and break it in your face, so he break it not behind. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, [within] It seems thou want'st breaking. Out upon thee, hind! DROMIO OF EPHESUS Here's too much "Out upon thee!" I pray thee, let me in. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, [within] Ay, when fowls have no feathers and fish have no fin. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, [to Dromio of Ephesus] Well, I'll break in. Go, borrow me a crow. DROMIO OF EPHESUS A crow without feather? Master, mean you so? For a fish without a fin, there's a fowl without a feather.-- If a crow help us in, sirrah, we'll pluck a crow together. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Go, get thee gone. Fetch me an iron crow. BALTHASAR Have patience, sir. O, let it not be so. Herein you war against your reputation, And draw within the compass of suspect Th' unviolated honor of your wife. Once this: your long experience of her wisdom, Her sober virtue, years, and modesty Plead on her part some cause to you unknown. And doubt not, sir, but she will well excuse Why at this time the doors are made against you. Be ruled by me; depart in patience, And let us to the Tiger all to dinner, And about evening come yourself alone To know the reason of this strange restraint. If by strong hand you offer to break in Now in the stirring passage of the day, A vulgar comment will be made of it; And that supposed by the common rout Against your yet ungalled estimation That may with foul intrusion enter in And dwell upon your grave when you are dead; For slander lives upon succession, Forever housed where it gets possession. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS You have prevailed. I will depart in quiet And, in despite of mirth, mean to be merry. I know a wench of excellent discourse, Pretty and witty, wild and yet, too, gentle. There will we dine. This woman that I mean, My wife--but, I protest, without desert-- Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal; To her will we to dinner. [To Angelo.] Get you home And fetch the chain; by this, I know, 'tis made. Bring it, I pray you, to the Porpentine, For there's the house. That chain will I bestow-- Be it for nothing but to spite my wife-- Upon mine hostess there. Good sir, make haste. Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me, I'll knock elsewhere, to see if they'll disdain me. ANGELO I'll meet you at that place some hour hence. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Do so. This jest shall cost me some expense. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Luciana with Antipholus of Syracuse.] LUCIANA And may it be that you have quite forgot A husband's office? Shall, Antipholus, Even in the spring of love thy love-springs rot? Shall love, in building, grow so ruinous? If you did wed my sister for her wealth, Then for her wealth's sake use her with more kindness. Or if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth -- Muffle your false love with some show of blindness. Let not my sister read it in your eye; Be not thy tongue thy own shame's orator; Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty; Apparel vice like virtue's harbinger. Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted. Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint. Be secret-false. What need she be acquainted? What simple thief brags of his own attaint? 'Tis double wrong to truant with your bed And let her read it in thy looks at board. Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed; Ill deeds is doubled with an evil word. Alas, poor women, make us but believe, Being compact of credit, that you love us. Though others have the arm, show us the sleeve; We in your motion turn, and you may move us. Then, gentle brother, get you in again. Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her wife. 'Tis holy sport to be a little vain When the sweet breath of flattery conquers strife. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Sweet mistress--what your name is else I know not, Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine-- Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not Than our Earth's wonder, more than Earth divine. Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak. Lay open to my earthy gross conceit, Smothered in errors, feeble, shallow, weak, The folded meaning of your words' deceit. Against my soul's pure truth why labor you To make it wander in an unknown field? Are you a god? Would you create me new? Transform me, then, and to your power I'll yield. But if that I am I, then well I know Your weeping sister is no wife of mine, Nor to her bed no homage do I owe. Far more, far more, to you do I decline. O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note To drown me in thy sister's flood of tears. Sing, Siren, for thyself, and I will dote. Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs, And as a bed I'll take them and there lie, And in that glorious supposition think He gains by death that hath such means to die. Let love, being light, be drowned if she sink. LUCIANA What, are you mad that you do reason so? ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Not mad, but mated--how, I do not know. LUCIANA It is a fault that springeth from your eye. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE For gazing on your beams, fair sun, being by. LUCIANA Gaze when you should, and that will clear your sight. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE As good to wink, sweet love, as look on night. LUCIANA Why call you me "love"? Call my sister so. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Thy sister's sister. LUCIANA That's my sister. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE No, It is thyself, mine own self's better part, Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart, My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's aim, My sole Earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim. LUCIANA All this my sister is, or else should be. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Call thyself "sister," sweet, for I am thee. Thee will I love, and with thee lead my life; Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife. Give me thy hand. LUCIANA O soft, sir. Hold you still. I'll fetch my sister to get her goodwill. [She exits.] [Enter Dromio of Syracuse, running.] ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Why, how now, Dromio. Where runn'st thou so fast? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Do you know me, sir? Am I Dromio? Am I your man? Am I myself? ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art thyself. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I am an ass, I am a woman's man, and besides myself. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE What woman's man? And how besides thyself? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Marry, sir, besides myself I am due to a woman, one that claims me, one that haunts me, one that will have me. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE What claim lays she to thee? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Marry, sir, such claim as you would lay to your horse, and she would have me as a beast; not that I being a beast she would have me, but that she, being a very beastly creature, lays claim to me. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE What is she? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE A very reverend body, ay, such a one as a man may not speak of without he say "sir-reverence." I have but lean luck in the match, and yet is she a wondrous fat marriage. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE How dost thou mean a "fat marriage"? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Marry, sir, she's the kitchen wench, and all grease, and I know not what use to put her to but to make a lamp of her and run from her by her own light. I warrant her rags and the tallow in them will burn a Poland winter. If she lives till doomsday, she'll burn a week longer than the whole world. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE What complexion is she of? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Swart like my shoe, but her face nothing like so clean kept. For why? She sweats. A man may go overshoes in the grime of it. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE That's a fault that water will mend. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE No, sir, 'tis in grain; Noah's flood could not do it. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE What's her name? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Nell, sir, but her name and three quarters--that's an ell and three quarters-- will not measure her from hip to hip. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Then she bears some breadth? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE No longer from head to foot than from hip to hip. She is spherical, like a globe. I could find out countries in her. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE In what part of her body stands Ireland? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Marry, sir, in her buttocks. I found it out by the bogs. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Where Scotland? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I found it by the barrenness, hard in the palm of the hand. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Where France? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE In her forehead, armed and reverted, making war against her heir. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Where England? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I looked for the chalky cliffs, but I could find no whiteness in them. But I guess it stood in her chin, by the salt rheum that ran between France and it. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Where Spain? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Faith, I saw it not, but I felt it hot in her breath. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Where America, the Indies? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE O, sir, upon her nose, all o'erembellished with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, declining their rich aspect to the hot breath of Spain, who sent whole armadas of carracks to be ballast at her nose. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE O, sir, I did not look so low. To conclude: this drudge or diviner laid claim to me, called me Dromio, swore I was assured to her, told me what privy marks I had about me, as the mark of my shoulder, the mole in my neck, the great wart on my left arm, that I, amazed, ran from her as a witch. And, I think, if my breast had not been made of faith, and my heart of steel, She had transformed me to a curtal dog and made me turn i' th' wheel. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Go, hie thee presently. Post to the road. An if the wind blow any way from shore, I will not harbor in this town tonight. If any bark put forth, come to the mart, Where I will walk till thou return to me. If everyone knows us, and we know none, 'Tis time, I think, to trudge, pack, and be gone. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE As from a bear a man would run for life, So fly I from her that would be my wife. [He exits.] ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE There's none but witches do inhabit here, And therefore 'tis high time that I were hence. She that doth call me husband, even my soul Doth for a wife abhor. But her fair sister, Possessed with such a gentle sovereign grace, Of such enchanting presence and discourse, Hath almost made me traitor to myself. But lest myself be guilty to self wrong, I'll stop mine ears against the mermaid's song. [Enter Angelo with the chain.] ANGELO Master Antipholus. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Ay, that's my name. ANGELO I know it well, sir. Lo, here's the chain. I thought to have ta'en you at the Porpentine; The chain unfinished made me stay thus long. [He gives Antipholus a chain.] ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE What is your will that I shall do with this? ANGELO What please yourself, sir. I have made it for you. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Made it for me, sir? I bespoke it not. ANGELO Not once, nor twice, but twenty times you have. Go home with it, and please your wife withal, And soon at supper time I'll visit you And then receive my money for the chain. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE I pray you, sir, receive the money now, For fear you ne'er see chain nor money more. ANGELO You are a merry man, sir. Fare you well. [He exits.] ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE What I should think of this I cannot tell, But this I think: there's no man is so vain That would refuse so fair an offered chain. I see a man here needs not live by shifts When in the streets he meets such golden gifts. I'll to the mart, and there for Dromio stay. If any ship put out, then straight away. [He exits.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter a Second Merchant, Angelo the Goldsmith, and an Officer.] SECOND MERCHANT, [to Angelo] You know since Pentecost the sum is due, And since I have not much importuned you, Nor now I had not, but that I am bound To Persia and want guilders for my voyage. Therefore make present satisfaction, Or I'll attach you by this officer. ANGELO Even just the sum that I do owe to you Is growing to me by Antipholus. And in the instant that I met with you, He had of me a chain. At five o'clock I shall receive the money for the same. Pleaseth you walk with me down to his house, I will discharge my bond and thank you too. [Enter Antipholus of Ephesus and Dromio of Ephesus from the Courtesan's.] OFFICER That labor may you save. See where he comes. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, [to Dromio of Ephesus] While I go to the goldsmith's house, go thou And buy a rope's end. That will I bestow Among my wife and her confederates For locking me out of my doors by day. But soft. I see the goldsmith. Get thee gone. Buy thou a rope, and bring it home to me. DROMIO OF EPHESUS I buy a thousand pound a year! I buy a rope! [Dromio exits.] ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, [to Angelo] A man is well holp up that trusts to you! I promised your presence and the chain, But neither chain nor goldsmith came to me. Belike you thought our love would last too long If it were chained together, and therefore came not. ANGELO, [handing a paper to Antipholus of Ephesus] Saving your merry humor, here's the note How much your chain weighs to the utmost carat, The fineness of the gold, and chargeful fashion, Which doth amount to three-odd ducats more Than I stand debted to this gentleman. I pray you, see him presently discharged, For he is bound to sea, and stays but for it. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS I am not furnished with the present money. Besides, I have some business in the town. Good signior, take the stranger to my house, And with you take the chain, and bid my wife Disburse the sum on the receipt thereof. Perchance I will be there as soon as you. ANGELO Then you will bring the chain to her yourself. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS No, bear it with you lest I come not time enough. ANGELO Well, sir, I will. Have you the chain about you? ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS An if I have not, sir, I hope you have, Or else you may return without your money. ANGELO Nay, come, I pray you, sir, give me the chain. Both wind and tide stays for this gentleman, And I, to blame, have held him here too long. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Good Lord! You use this dalliance to excuse Your breach of promise to the Porpentine. I should have chid you for not bringing it, But, like a shrew, you first begin to brawl. SECOND MERCHANT, [to Angelo] The hour steals on. I pray you, sir, dispatch. ANGELO, [to Antipholus of Ephesus] You hear how he importunes me. The chain! ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Why, give it to my wife, and fetch your money. ANGELO Come, come. You know I gave it you even now. Either send the chain, or send by me some token. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Fie, now you run this humor out of breath. Come, where's the chain? I pray you, let me see it. SECOND MERCHANT My business cannot brook this dalliance. Good sir, say whe'er you'll answer me or no. If not, I'll leave him to the Officer. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS I answer you? What should I answer you? ANGELO The money that you owe me for the chain. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS I owe you none till I receive the chain. ANGELO You know I gave it you half an hour since. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS You gave me none. You wrong me much to say so. ANGELO You wrong me more, sir, in denying it. Consider how it stands upon my credit. SECOND MERCHANT Well, officer, arrest him at my suit. OFFICER, [to Angelo] I do, and charge you in the Duke's name to obey me. ANGELO, [to Antipholus of Ephesus] This touches me in reputation. Either consent to pay this sum for me, Or I attach you by this officer. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Consent to pay thee that I never had?-- Arrest me, foolish fellow, if thou dar'st. ANGELO, [to Officer] Here is thy fee. Arrest him, officer. [Giving money.] I would not spare my brother in this case If he should scorn me so apparently. OFFICER, [to Antipholus of Ephesus] I do arrest you, sir. You hear the suit. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS I do obey thee till I give thee bail. [To Angelo.] But, sirrah, you shall buy this sport as dear As all the metal in your shop will answer. ANGELO Sir, sir, I shall have law in Ephesus, To your notorious shame, I doubt it not. [Enter Dromio of Syracuse from the bay.] DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Master, there's a bark of Epidamium That stays but till her owner comes aboard, And then, sir, she bears away. Our fraughtage, sir, I have conveyed aboard, and I have bought The oil, the balsamum, and aqua vitae. The ship is in her trim; the merry wind Blows fair from land. They stay for naught at all But for their owner, master, and yourself. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS How now? A madman? Why, thou peevish sheep, What ship of Epidamium stays for me? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE A ship you sent me to, to hire waftage. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Thou drunken slave, I sent thee for a rope And told thee to what purpose and what end. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE You sent me for a rope's end as soon. You sent me to the bay, sir, for a bark. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS I will debate this matter at more leisure And teach your ears to list me with more heed. To Adriana, villain, hie thee straight. [He gives a key.] Give her this key, and tell her in the desk That's covered o'er with Turkish tapestry There is a purse of ducats. Let her send it. Tell her I am arrested in the street, And that shall bail me. Hie thee, slave. Begone.-- On, officer, to prison till it come. [All but Dromio of Syracuse exit.] DROMIO OF SYRACUSE To Adriana. That is where we dined, Where Dowsabel did claim me for her husband. She is too big, I hope, for me to compass. Thither I must, although against my will, For servants must their masters' minds fulfill. [He exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Adriana and Luciana.] ADRIANA Ah, Luciana, did he tempt thee so? Might'st thou perceive austerely in his eye That he did plead in earnest, yea or no? Looked he or red or pale, or sad or merrily? What observation mad'st thou in this case Of his heart's meteors tilting in his face? LUCIANA First he denied you had in him no right. ADRIANA He meant he did me none; the more my spite. LUCIANA Then swore he that he was a stranger here. ADRIANA And true he swore, though yet forsworn he were. LUCIANA Then pleaded I for you. ADRIANA And what said he? LUCIANA That love I begged for you he begged of me. ADRIANA With what persuasion did he tempt thy love? LUCIANA With words that in an honest suit might move. First he did praise my beauty, then my speech. ADRIANA Did'st speak him fair? LUCIANA Have patience, I beseech. ADRIANA I cannot, nor I will not hold me still. My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will. He is deformed, crooked, old, and sere, Ill-faced, worse-bodied, shapeless everywhere, Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind, Stigmatical in making, worse in mind. LUCIANA Who would be jealous, then, of such a one? No evil lost is wailed when it is gone. ADRIANA Ah, but I think him better than I say, And yet would herein others' eyes were worse. Far from her nest the lapwing cries away. My heart prays for him, though my tongue do curse. [Enter Dromio of Syracuse with the key.] DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Here, go--the desk, the purse! Sweet, now make haste. LUCIANA How hast thou lost thy breath? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE By running fast. ADRIANA Where is thy master, Dromio? Is he well? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE No, he's in Tartar limbo, worse than hell. A devil in an everlasting garment hath him, One whose hard heart is buttoned up with steel; A fiend, a fairy, pitiless and rough; A wolf, nay, worse, a fellow all in buff; A backfriend, a shoulder clapper, one that countermands The passages of alleys, creeks, and narrow lands; A hound that runs counter and yet draws dryfoot well, One that before the judgment carries poor souls to hell. ADRIANA Why, man, what is the matter? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I do not know the matter. He is 'rested on the case. ADRIANA What, is he arrested? Tell me at whose suit. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I know not at whose suit he is arrested well, But is in a suit of buff which 'rested him; that can I tell. Will you send him, mistress, redemption--the money in his desk? ADRIANA Go fetch it, sister. [(Luciana exits.)] This I wonder at, That he, unknown to me, should be in debt. Tell me, was he arrested on a band? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Not on a band, but on a stronger thing: A chain, a chain. Do you not hear it ring? ADRIANA What, the chain? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE No, no, the bell. 'Tis time that I were gone. It was two ere I left him, and now the clock strikes one. ADRIANA The hours come back. That did I never hear. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE O yes, if any hour meet a sergeant, he turns back for very fear. ADRIANA As if time were in debt. How fondly dost thou reason! DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Time is a very bankrout and owes more than he's worth to season. Nay, he's a thief too. Have you not heard men say That time comes stealing on by night and day? If he be in debt and theft, and a sergeant in the way, Hath he not reason to turn back an hour in a day? [Enter Luciana, with the purse.] ADRIANA Go, Dromio. There's the money. Bear it straight, And bring thy master home immediately. [Dromio exits.] Come, sister, I am pressed down with conceit: Conceit, my comfort and my injury. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Antipholus of Syracuse, wearing the chain.] ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE There's not a man I meet but doth salute me As if I were their well-acquainted friend, And everyone doth call me by my name. Some tender money to me; some invite me; Some other give me thanks for kindnesses; Some offer me commodities to buy. Even now a tailor called me in his shop And showed me silks that he had bought for me, And therewithal took measure of my body. Sure these are but imaginary wiles, And Lapland sorcerers inhabit here. [Enter Dromio of Syracuse with the purse.] DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Master, here's the gold you sent me for. What, have you got the picture of old Adam new-appareled? ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE What gold is this? What Adam dost thou mean? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Not that Adam that kept the Paradise, but that Adam that keeps the prison; he that goes in the calf's skin that was killed for the Prodigal; he that came behind you, sir, like an evil angel, and bid you forsake your liberty. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE I understand thee not. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE No? Why, 'tis a plain case: he that went like a bass viol in a case of leather; the man, sir, that, when gentlemen are tired, gives them a sob and 'rests them; he, sir, that takes pity on decayed men and gives them suits of durance; he that sets up his rest to do more exploits with his mace than a morris-pike. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE What, thou mean'st an officer? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Ay, sir, the sergeant of the band; he that brings any man to answer it that breaks his band; one that thinks a man always going to bed and says "God give you good rest." ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Well, sir, there rest in your foolery. Is there any ships puts forth tonight? May we be gone? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Why, sir, I brought you word an hour since that the bark Expedition put forth tonight, and then were you hindered by the sergeant to tarry for the hoy Delay. Here are the angels that you sent for to deliver you. [He gives the purse.] ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE The fellow is distract, and so am I, And here we wander in illusions. Some blessed power deliver us from hence! [Enter a Courtesan.] COURTESAN Well met, well met, Master Antipholus. I see, sir, you have found the goldsmith now. Is that the chain you promised me today? ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Satan, avoid! I charge thee, tempt me not. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Master, is this Mistress Satan? ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE It is the devil. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Nay, she is worse; she is the devil's dam, and here she comes in the habit of a light wench. And thereof comes that the wenches say "God damn me"; that's as much to say "God make me a light wench." It is written they appear to men like angels of light. Light is an effect of fire, and fire will burn: ergo, light wenches will burn. Come not near her. COURTESAN Your man and you are marvelous merry, sir. Will you go with me? We'll mend our dinner here. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Master, if you do, expect spoon meat, or bespeak a long spoon. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Why, Dromio? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Marry, he must have a long spoon that must eat with the devil. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE, [to the Courtesan] Avoid then, fiend! What tell'st thou me of supping? Thou art, as you are all, a sorceress. I conjure thee to leave me and be gone. COURTESAN Give me the ring of mine you had at dinner Or, for my diamond, the chain you promised, And I'll be gone, sir, and not trouble you. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Some devils ask but the parings of one's nail, a rush, a hair, a drop of blood, a pin, a nut, a cherrystone; but she, more covetous, would have a chain. Master, be wise. An if you give it her, the devil will shake her chain and fright us with it. COURTESAN I pray you, sir, my ring or else the chain. I hope you do not mean to cheat me so. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Avaunt, thou witch!--Come, Dromio, let us go. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE "Fly pride," says the peacock. Mistress, that you know. [Antipholus and Dromio exit.] COURTESAN Now, out of doubt Antipholus is mad; Else would he never so demean himself. A ring he hath of mine worth forty ducats, And for the same he promised me a chain. Both one and other he denies me now. The reason that I gather he is mad, Besides this present instance of his rage, Is a mad tale he told today at dinner Of his own doors being shut against his entrance. Belike his wife, acquainted with his fits, On purpose shut the doors against his way. My way is now to hie home to his house And tell his wife that, being lunatic, He rushed into my house and took perforce My ring away. This course I fittest choose, For forty ducats is too much to lose. [She exits.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Antipholus of Ephesus with a Jailer, the Officer.] ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Fear me not, man. I will not break away. I'll give thee, ere I leave thee, so much money, To warrant thee, as I am 'rested for. My wife is in a wayward mood today And will not lightly trust the messenger That I should be attached in Ephesus. I tell you, 'twill sound harshly in her ears. [Enter Dromio of Ephesus with a rope's end.] Here comes my man. I think he brings the money. How now, sir? Have you that I sent you for? DROMIO OF EPHESUS, [handing over the rope's end] Here's that, I warrant you, will pay them all. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS But where's the money? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Why, sir, I gave the money for the rope. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Five hundred ducats, villain, for a rope? DROMIO OF EPHESUS I'll serve you, sir, five hundred at the rate. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS To what end did I bid thee hie thee home? DROMIO OF EPHESUS To a rope's end, sir, and to that end am I returned. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, [beating Dromio] And to that end, sir, I will welcome you. OFFICER Good sir, be patient. DROMIO OF EPHESUS Nay, 'tis for me to be patient. I am in adversity. OFFICER Good now, hold thy tongue. DROMIO OF EPHESUS Nay, rather persuade him to hold his hands. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Thou whoreson, senseless villain. DROMIO OF EPHESUS I would I were senseless, sir, that I might not feel your blows. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Thou art sensible in nothing but blows, and so is an ass. DROMIO OF EPHESUS I am an ass, indeed; you may prove it by my long ears.--I have served him from the hour of my nativity to this instant, and have nothing at his hands for my service but blows. When I am cold, he heats me with beating; when I am warm, he cools me with beating. I am waked with it when I sleep, raised with it when I sit, driven out of doors with it when I go from home, welcomed home with it when I return. Nay, I bear it on my shoulders as a beggar wont her brat, and I think when he hath lamed me, I shall beg with it from door to door. [Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtesan, and a Schoolmaster called Pinch.] ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Come, go along. My wife is coming yonder. DROMIO OF EPHESUS Mistress, respice finem, respect your end, or rather, the prophecy like the parrot, "Beware the rope's end." ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Wilt thou still talk? [Beats Dromio.] COURTESAN, [to Adriana] How say you now? Is not your husband mad? ADRIANA His incivility confirms no less.-- Good Doctor Pinch, you are a conjurer; Establish him in his true sense again, And I will please you what you will demand. LUCIANA Alas, how fiery and how sharp he looks! COURTESAN Mark how he trembles in his ecstasy. PINCH, [to Antipholus of Ephesus] Give me your hand, and let me feel your pulse. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, [striking Pinch] There is my hand, and let it feel your ear. PINCH I charge thee, Satan, housed within this man, To yield possession to my holy prayers, And to thy state of darkness hie thee straight. I conjure thee by all the saints in heaven. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Peace, doting wizard, peace. I am not mad. ADRIANA O, that thou wert not, poor distressed soul! ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS You minion, you, are these your customers? Did this companion with the saffron face Revel and feast it at my house today Whilst upon me the guilty doors were shut And I denied to enter in my house? ADRIANA O husband, God doth know you dined at home, Where would you had remained until this time, Free from these slanders and this open shame. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS "Dined at home"? [To Dromio.] Thou villain, what sayest thou? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Sir, sooth to say, you did not dine at home. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Were not my doors locked up and I shut out? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Perdie, your doors were locked, and you shut out. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS And did not she herself revile me there? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Sans fable, she herself reviled you there. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Did not her kitchen maid rail, taunt, and scorn me? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Certes, she did; the kitchen vestal scorned you. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS And did not I in rage depart from thence? DROMIO OF EPHESUS In verity you did.--My bones bears witness, That since have felt the vigor of his rage. ADRIANA, [to Pinch] Is 't good to soothe him in these contraries? PINCH It is no shame. The fellow finds his vein And, yielding to him, humors well his frenzy. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, [to Adriana] Thou hast suborned the goldsmith to arrest me. ADRIANA Alas, I sent you money to redeem you By Dromio here, who came in haste for it. DROMIO OF EPHESUS Money by me? Heart and goodwill you might, But surely, master, not a rag of money. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Went'st not thou to her for a purse of ducats? ADRIANA He came to me, and I delivered it. LUCIANA And I am witness with her that she did. DROMIO OF EPHESUS God and the rope-maker bear me witness That I was sent for nothing but a rope. PINCH Mistress, both man and master is possessed. I know it by their pale and deadly looks. They must be bound and laid in some dark room. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, [to Adriana] Say wherefore didst thou lock me forth today. [To Dromio of Ephesus.] And why dost thou deny the bag of gold? ADRIANA I did not, gentle husband, lock thee forth. DROMIO OF EPHESUS And, gentle master, I received no gold. But I confess, sir, that we were locked out. ADRIANA Dissembling villain, thou speak'st false in both. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all, And art confederate with a damned pack To make a loathsome abject scorn of me. But with these nails I'll pluck out these false eyes That would behold in me this shameful sport. ADRIANA O bind him, bind him! Let him not come near me. [Enter three or four, and offer to bind him. He strives.] PINCH More company! The fiend is strong within him. LUCIANA Ay me, poor man, how pale and wan he looks! ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS What, will you murder me?--Thou jailer, thou, I am thy prisoner. Wilt thou suffer them To make a rescue? OFFICER Masters, let him go. He is my prisoner, and you shall not have him. PINCH Go, bind this man, for he is frantic too. [Dromio is bound.] ADRIANA, [to Officer] What wilt thou do, thou peevish officer? Hast thou delight to see a wretched man Do outrage and displeasure to himself? OFFICER He is my prisoner. If I let him go, The debt he owes will be required of me. ADRIANA I will discharge thee ere I go from thee. Bear me forthwith unto his creditor, And knowing how the debt grows, I will pay it.-- Good Master Doctor, see him safe conveyed Home to my house. O most unhappy day! ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS O most unhappy strumpet! DROMIO OF EPHESUS Master, I am here entered in bond for you. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Out on thee, villain! Wherefore dost thou mad me? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Will you be bound for nothing? Be mad, good master. Cry "The devil!" LUCIANA God help poor souls! How idly do they talk! ADRIANA, [to Pinch] Go bear him hence. [Pinch and his men exit with Antipholus and Dromio of Ephesus. Officer, Adriana, Luciana, Courtesan remain.] Sister, go you with me. [To Officer.] Say now whose suit is he arrested at. OFFICER One Angelo, a goldsmith. Do you know him? ADRIANA I know the man. What is the sum he owes? OFFICER Two hundred ducats. ADRIANA Say, how grows it due? OFFICER Due for a chain your husband had of him. ADRIANA He did bespeak a chain for me but had it not. COURTESAN Whenas your husband all in rage today Came to my house and took away my ring, The ring I saw upon his finger now, Straight after did I meet him with a chain. ADRIANA It may be so, but I did never see it.-- Come, jailer, bring me where the goldsmith is. I long to know the truth hereof at large. [Enter Antipholus of Syracuse with his rapier drawn, and Dromio of Syracuse.] LUCIANA God for Thy mercy, they are loose again! ADRIANA And come with naked swords. Let's call more help To have them bound again. OFFICER Away! They'll kill us. [Run all out as fast as may be, frighted. Antipholus and Dromio of Syracuse remain.] ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE I see these witches are afraid of swords. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE She that would be your wife now ran from you. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Come to the Centaur. Fetch our stuff from thence. I long that we were safe and sound aboard. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Faith, stay here this night. They will surely do us no harm. You saw they speak us fair, give us gold. Methinks they are such a gentle nation that, but for the mountain of mad flesh that claims marriage of me, I could find in my heart to stay here still, and turn witch. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE I will not stay tonight for all the town. Therefore, away, to get our stuff aboard. [They exit.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter the Second Merchant and Angelo the Goldsmith.] ANGELO I am sorry, sir, that I have hindered you, But I protest he had the chain of me, Though most dishonestly he doth deny it. SECOND MERCHANT How is the man esteemed here in the city? ANGELO Of very reverend reputation, sir, Of credit infinite, highly beloved, Second to none that lives here in the city. His word might bear my wealth at any time. SECOND MERCHANT Speak softly. Yonder, as I think, he walks. [Enter Antipholus and Dromio of Syracuse again, Antipholus wearing the chain.] ANGELO 'Tis so, and that self chain about his neck Which he forswore most monstrously to have. Good sir, draw near to me. I'll speak to him.-- Signior Antipholus, I wonder much That you would put me to this shame and trouble, And not without some scandal to yourself, With circumstance and oaths so to deny This chain, which now you wear so openly. Besides the charge, the shame, imprisonment, You have done wrong to this my honest friend, Who, but for staying on our controversy, Had hoisted sail and put to sea today. This chain you had of me. Can you deny it? ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE I think I had. I never did deny it. SECOND MERCHANT Yes, that you did, sir, and forswore it too. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Who heard me to deny it or forswear it? SECOND MERCHANT These ears of mine, thou know'st, did hear thee. Fie on thee, wretch. 'Tis pity that thou liv'st To walk where any honest men resort. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Thou art a villain to impeach me thus. I'll prove mine honor and mine honesty Against thee presently if thou dar'st stand. SECOND MERCHANT I dare, and do defy thee for a villain. [They draw.] [Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtesan, and others.] ADRIANA Hold, hurt him not, for God's sake. He is mad.-- Some get within him; take his sword away. Bind Dromio too, and bear them to my house! DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Run, master, run. For God's sake, take a house. This is some priory. In, or we are spoiled. [Antipholus and Dromio of Syracuse exit to the Priory.] [Enter Lady Abbess.] ABBESS Be quiet, people. Wherefore throng you hither? ADRIANA To fetch my poor distracted husband hence. Let us come in, that we may bind him fast And bear him home for his recovery. ANGELO I knew he was not in his perfect wits. SECOND MERCHANT I am sorry now that I did draw on him. ABBESS How long hath this possession held the man? ADRIANA This week he hath been heavy, sour, sad, And much different from the man he was. But till this afternoon his passion Ne'er brake into extremity of rage. ABBESS Hath he not lost much wealth by wrack of sea? Buried some dear friend? Hath not else his eye Strayed his affection in unlawful love, A sin prevailing much in youthful men Who give their eyes the liberty of gazing? Which of these sorrows is he subject to? ADRIANA To none of these, except it be the last, Namely, some love that drew him oft from home. ABBESS You should for that have reprehended him. ADRIANA Why, so I did. ABBESS Ay, but not rough enough. ADRIANA As roughly as my modesty would let me. ABBESS Haply in private. ADRIANA And in assemblies too. ABBESS Ay, but not enough. ADRIANA It was the copy of our conference. In bed he slept not for my urging it; At board he fed not for my urging it. Alone, it was the subject of my theme; In company I often glanced it. Still did I tell him it was vile and bad. ABBESS And thereof came it that the man was mad. The venom clamors of a jealous woman Poisons more deadly than a mad dog's tooth. It seems his sleeps were hindered by thy railing, And thereof comes it that his head is light. Thou sayst his meat was sauced with thy upbraidings. Unquiet meals make ill digestions. Thereof the raging fire of fever bred, And what's a fever but a fit of madness? Thou sayest his sports were hindered by thy brawls. Sweet recreation barred, what doth ensue But moody and dull melancholy, Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair, And at her heels a huge infectious troop Of pale distemperatures and foes to life? In food, in sport, and life-preserving rest To be disturbed would mad or man or beast. The consequence is, then, thy jealous fits Hath scared thy husband from the use of wits. LUCIANA She never reprehended him but mildly When he demeaned himself rough, rude, and wildly.-- Why bear you these rebukes and answer not? ADRIANA She did betray me to my own reproof.-- Good people, enter and lay hold on him. ABBESS No, not a creature enters in my house. ADRIANA Then let your servants bring my husband forth. ABBESS Neither. He took this place for sanctuary, And it shall privilege him from your hands Till I have brought him to his wits again Or lose my labor in assaying it. ADRIANA I will attend my husband, be his nurse, Diet his sickness, for it is my office And will have no attorney but myself; And therefore let me have him home with me. ABBESS Be patient, for I will not let him stir Till I have used the approved means I have, With wholesome syrups, drugs, and holy prayers, To make of him a formal man again. It is a branch and parcel of mine oath, A charitable duty of my order. Therefore depart and leave him here with me. ADRIANA I will not hence and leave my husband here; And ill it doth beseem your holiness To separate the husband and the wife. ABBESS Be quiet and depart. Thou shalt not have him. [She exits.] LUCIANA, [to Adriana] Complain unto the Duke of this indignity. ADRIANA Come, go. I will fall prostrate at his feet And never rise until my tears and prayers Have won his grace to come in person hither And take perforce my husband from the Abbess. SECOND MERCHANT By this, I think, the dial points at five. Anon, I'm sure, the Duke himself in person Comes this way to the melancholy vale, The place of death and sorry execution Behind the ditches of the abbey here. ANGELO Upon what cause? SECOND MERCHANT To see a reverend Syracusian merchant, Who put unluckily into this bay Against the laws and statutes of this town, Beheaded publicly for his offense. ANGELO See where they come. We will behold his death. LUCIANA, [to Adriana] Kneel to the Duke before he pass the abbey. [Enter the Duke of Ephesus, and Egeon the Merchant of Syracuse, bare head, with the Headsman and other Officers.] DUKE Yet once again proclaim it publicly, If any friend will pay the sum for him, He shall not die; so much we tender him. ADRIANA, [kneeling] Justice, most sacred duke, against the Abbess. DUKE She is a virtuous and a reverend lady. It cannot be that she hath done thee wrong. ADRIANA May it please your Grace, Antipholus my husband, Who I made lord of me and all I had At your important letters, this ill day A most outrageous fit of madness took him, That desp'rately he hurried through the street, With him his bondman, all as mad as he, Doing displeasure to the citizens By rushing in their houses, bearing thence Rings, jewels, anything his rage did like. Once did I get him bound and sent him home Whilst to take order for the wrongs I went That here and there his fury had committed. Anon, I wot not by what strong escape, He broke from those that had the guard of him, And with his mad attendant and himself, Each one with ireful passion, with drawn swords, Met us again and, madly bent on us, Chased us away, till raising of more aid, We came again to bind them. Then they fled Into this abbey, whither we pursued them, And here the Abbess shuts the gates on us And will not suffer us to fetch him out, Nor send him forth that we may bear him hence. Therefore, most gracious duke, with thy command Let him be brought forth and borne hence for help. DUKE Long since, thy husband served me in my wars, And I to thee engaged a prince's word, When thou didst make him master of thy bed, To do him all the grace and good I could. Go, some of you, knock at the abbey gate, And bid the Lady Abbess come to me. I will determine this before I stir. [Adriana rises.] [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER O mistress, mistress, shift and save yourself. My master and his man are both broke loose, Beaten the maids a-row, and bound the doctor, Whose beard they have singed off with brands of fire, And ever as it blazed they threw on him Great pails of puddled mire to quench the hair. My master preaches patience to him, and the while His man with scissors nicks him like a fool; And sure, unless you send some present help, Between them they will kill the conjurer. ADRIANA Peace, fool. Thy master and his man are here, And that is false thou dost report to us. MESSENGER Mistress, upon my life I tell you true. I have not breathed almost since I did see it. He cries for you and vows, if he can take you, To scorch your face and to disfigure you. [Cry within.] Hark, hark, I hear him, mistress. Fly, begone! DUKE Come, stand by me. Fear nothing.--Guard with halberds. [Enter Antipholus and Dromio of Ephesus.] ADRIANA Ay me, it is my husband. Witness you That he is borne about invisible. Even now we housed him in the abbey here, And now he's there, past thought of human reason. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Justice, most gracious duke. O, grant me justice, Even for the service that long since I did thee When I bestrid thee in the wars and took Deep scars to save thy life. Even for the blood That then I lost for thee, now grant me justice. EGEON, [aside] Unless the fear of death doth make me dote, I see my son Antipholus and Dromio. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Justice, sweet prince, against that woman there, She whom thou gav'st to me to be my wife, That hath abused and dishonored me Even in the strength and height of injury. Beyond imagination is the wrong That she this day hath shameless thrown on me. DUKE Discover how, and thou shalt find me just. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS This day, great duke, she shut the doors upon me While she with harlots feasted in my house. DUKE A grievous fault.--Say, woman, didst thou so? ADRIANA No, my good lord. Myself, he, and my sister Today did dine together. So befall my soul As this is false he burdens me withal. LUCIANA Ne'er may I look on day nor sleep on night But she tells to your Highness simple truth. ANGELO O perjured woman!--They are both forsworn. In this the madman justly chargeth them. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS My liege, I am advised what I say, Neither disturbed with the effect of wine, Nor heady-rash provoked with raging ire, Albeit my wrongs might make one wiser mad. This woman locked me out this day from dinner. That goldsmith there, were he not packed with her, Could witness it, for he was with me then, Who parted with me to go fetch a chain, Promising to bring it to the Porpentine, Where Balthasar and I did dine together. Our dinner done and he not coming thither, I went to seek him. In the street I met him, And in his company that gentleman. [He points to Second Merchant.] There did this perjured goldsmith swear me down That I this day of him received the chain, Which, God He knows, I saw not; for the which He did arrest me with an officer. I did obey and sent my peasant home For certain ducats. He with none returned. Then fairly I bespoke the officer To go in person with me to my house. By th' way we met My wife, her sister, and a rabble more Of vile confederates. Along with them They brought one Pinch, a hungry, lean-faced villain, A mere anatomy, a mountebank, A threadbare juggler, and a fortune-teller, A needy, hollow-eyed, sharp-looking wretch, A living dead man. This pernicious slave, Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer, And, gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse, And with no face (as 'twere) outfacing me, Cries out I was possessed. Then all together They fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence, And in a dark and dankish vault at home There left me and my man, both bound together, Till gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder, I gained my freedom and immediately Ran hither to your Grace, whom I beseech To give me ample satisfaction For these deep shames and great indignities. ANGELO My lord, in truth, thus far I witness with him: That he dined not at home, but was locked out. DUKE But had he such a chain of thee or no? ANGELO He had, my lord, and when he ran in here, These people saw the chain about his neck. SECOND MERCHANT, [to Antipholus of Ephesus] Besides, I will be sworn these ears of mine Heard you confess you had the chain of him After you first forswore it on the mart, And thereupon I drew my sword on you, And then you fled into this abbey here, From whence I think you are come by miracle. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS I never came within these abbey walls, Nor ever didst thou draw thy sword on me. I never saw the chain, so help me heaven, And this is false you burden me withal. DUKE Why, what an intricate impeach is this! I think you all have drunk of Circe's cup. If here you housed him, here he would have been. If he were mad, he would not plead so coldly. [To Adriana.] You say he dined at home; the goldsmith here Denies that saying. [To Dromio of Ephesus.] Sirrah, what say you? DROMIO OF EPHESUS, [pointing to the Courtesan] Sir, he dined with her there at the Porpentine. COURTESAN He did, and from my finger snatched that ring. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, [showing a ring] 'Tis true, my liege, this ring I had of her. DUKE, [to Courtesan] Saw'st thou him enter at the abbey here? COURTESAN As sure, my liege, as I do see your Grace. DUKE Why, this is strange.--Go call the Abbess hither. [Exit one to the Abbess.] I think you are all mated or stark mad. EGEON Most mighty duke, vouchsafe me speak a word. Haply I see a friend will save my life And pay the sum that may deliver me. DUKE Speak freely, Syracusian, what thou wilt. EGEON, [to Antipholus of Ephesus] Is not your name, sir, called Antipholus? And is not that your bondman Dromio? DROMIO OF EPHESUS Within this hour I was his bondman, sir, But he, I thank him, gnawed in two my cords. Now am I Dromio, and his man, unbound. EGEON I am sure you both of you remember me. DROMIO OF EPHESUS Ourselves we do remember, sir, by you, For lately we were bound as you are now. You are not Pinch's patient, are you, sir? EGEON, [to Antipholus of Ephesus] Why look you strange on me? You know me well. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS I never saw you in my life till now. EGEON O, grief hath changed me since you saw me last, And careful hours with time's deformed hand Have written strange defeatures in my face. But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice? ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Neither. EGEON Dromio, nor thou? DROMIO OF EPHESUS No, trust me, sir, nor I. EGEON I am sure thou dost. DROMIO OF EPHESUS Ay, sir, but I am sure I do not, and whatsoever a man denies, you are now bound to believe him. EGEON Not know my voice! O time's extremity, Hast thou so cracked and splitted my poor tongue In seven short years that here my only son Knows not my feeble key of untuned cares? Though now this grained face of mine be hid In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow, And all the conduits of my blood froze up, Yet hath my night of life some memory, My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left, My dull deaf ears a little use to hear. All these old witnesses--I cannot err-- Tell me thou art my son Antipholus. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS I never saw my father in my life. EGEON But seven years since, in Syracusa, boy, Thou know'st we parted. But perhaps, my son, Thou sham'st to acknowledge me in misery. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS The Duke and all that know me in the city Can witness with me that it is not so. I ne'er saw Syracusa in my life. DUKE I tell thee, Syracusian, twenty years Have I been patron to Antipholus, During which time he ne'er saw Syracusa. I see thy age and dangers make thee dote. [Enter Emilia the Abbess, with Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio of Syracuse.] ABBESS Most mighty duke, behold a man much wronged. [All gather to see them.] ADRIANA I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceive me. DUKE One of these men is genius to the other. And so, of these, which is the natural man And which the spirit? Who deciphers them? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I, sir, am Dromio. Command him away. DROMIO OF EPHESUS I, sir, am Dromio. Pray, let me stay. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Egeon art thou not, or else his ghost? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE O, my old master.--Who hath bound him here? ABBESS Whoever bound him, I will loose his bonds And gain a husband by his liberty.-- Speak, old Egeon, if thou be'st the man That hadst a wife once called Emilia, That bore thee at a burden two fair sons. O, if thou be'st the same Egeon, speak, And speak unto the same Emilia. DUKE Why, here begins his morning story right: These two Antipholus', these two so like, And these two Dromios, one in semblance-- Besides her urging of her wrack at sea-- These are the parents to these children, Which accidentally are met together. EGEON If I dream not, thou art Emilia. If thou art she, tell me, where is that son That floated with thee on the fatal raft? ABBESS By men of Epidamium he and I And the twin Dromio all were taken up; But by and by rude fishermen of Corinth By force took Dromio and my son from them, And me they left with those of Epidamium. What then became of them I cannot tell; I to this fortune that you see me in. DUKE, [to Antipholus of Syracuse] Antipholus, thou cam'st from Corinth first. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE No, sir, not I. I came from Syracuse. DUKE Stay, stand apart. I know not which is which. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS I came from Corinth, my most gracious lord. DROMIO OF EPHESUS And I with him. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Brought to this town by that most famous warrior Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle. ADRIANA Which of you two did dine with me today? ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE I, gentle mistress. ADRIANA And are not you my husband? ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS No, I say nay to that. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE And so do I, yet did she call me so, And this fair gentlewoman, her sister here, Did call me brother. [To Luciana.] What I told you then I hope I shall have leisure to make good, If this be not a dream I see and hear. ANGELO, [turning to Antipholus of Syracuse] That is the chain, sir, which you had of me. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE I think it be, sir. I deny it not. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, [to Angelo] And you, sir, for this chain arrested me. ANGELO I think I did, sir. I deny it not. ADRIANA, [to Antipholus of Ephesus] I sent you money, sir, to be your bail By Dromio, but I think he brought it not. DROMIO OF EPHESUS No, none by me. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE, [to Adriana] This purse of ducats I received from you, And Dromio my man did bring them me. I see we still did meet each other's man, And I was ta'en for him, and he for me, And thereupon these errors are arose. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, [to the Duke] These ducats pawn I for my father here. DUKE It shall not need. Thy father hath his life. COURTESAN, [to Antipholus of Ephesus] Sir, I must have that diamond from you. ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS There, take it, and much thanks for my good cheer. ABBESS Renowned duke, vouchsafe to take the pains To go with us into the abbey here And hear at large discoursed all our fortunes, And all that are assembled in this place That by this sympathized one day's error Have suffered wrong. Go, keep us company, And we shall make full satisfaction.-- Thirty-three years have I but gone in travail Of you, my sons, and till this present hour My heavy burden ne'er delivered.-- The Duke, my husband, and my children both, And you, the calendars of their nativity, Go to a gossips' feast, and go with me. After so long grief, such nativity! DUKE With all my heart I'll gossip at this feast. [All exit except the two Dromios and the two brothers Antipholus.] DROMIO OF SYRACUSE, [to Antipholus of Ephesus] Master, shall I fetch your stuff from shipboard? ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Dromio, what stuff of mine hast thou embarked? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Your goods that lay at host, sir, in the Centaur. ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE, [to Antipholus of Ephesus] He speaks to me.--I am your master, Dromio. Come, go with us. We'll look to that anon. Embrace thy brother there. Rejoice with him. [The brothers Antipholus exit.] DROMIO OF SYRACUSE There is a fat friend at your master's house That kitchened me for you today at dinner. She now shall be my sister, not my wife. DROMIO OF EPHESUS Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother. I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth. Will you walk in to see their gossiping? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Not I, sir. You are my elder. DROMIO OF EPHESUS That's a question. How shall we try it? DROMIO OF SYRACUSE We'll draw cuts for the signior. Till then, lead thou first. DROMIO OF EPHESUS Nay, then, thus: We came into the world like brother and brother, And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another. [They exit.]

The Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== PORTIA, an heiress of Belmont NERISSA, her waiting-gentlewoman Servants to Portia: BALTHAZAR STEPHANO Suitors to Portia: Prince of MOROCCO Prince of ARRAGON ANTONIO, a merchant of Venice BASSANIO, a Venetian gentleman, suitor to Portia Companions of Antonio and Bassanio: SOLANIO SALARINO GRATIANO LORENZO LEONARDO, servant to Bassanio SHYLOCK, a Jewish moneylender in Venice JESSICA, his daughter TUBAL, another Jewish moneylender LANCELET GOBBO, servant to Shylock and later to Bassanio OLD GOBBO, Lancelet's father SALERIO, a messenger from Venice Jailer Duke of Venice Magnificoes of Venice Servants Attendants and followers Messenger Musicians ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Antonio, Salarino, and Solanio.] ANTONIO 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. And such a want-wit sadness makes of me That I have much ado to know myself. SALARINO Your mind is tossing on the ocean, There where your argosies with portly sail (Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood, Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea) Do overpeer the petty traffickers That curtsy to them, do them reverence, As they fly by them with their woven wings. SOLANIO 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, Piring in maps for ports and piers and roads; And every object that might make me fear Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt Would make me sad. SALARINO My wind cooling my broth Would blow me to an ague when I thought What harm a wind too great might do at sea. I should not see the sandy hourglass run But I should think of shallows and of flats, And see my wealthy Andrew docked 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 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. ANTONIO 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. SOLANIO Why then you are in love. ANTONIO Fie, fie! SOLANIO 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, Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time: Some that will evermore peep through their eyes And laugh like parrots at a bagpiper, And other of such vinegar aspect That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. [Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo, and Gratiano.] Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman, Gratiano, and Lorenzo. Fare you well. We leave you now with better company. SALARINO I would have stayed till I had made you merry, If worthier friends had not prevented me. ANTONIO Your worth is very dear in my regard. I take it your own business calls on you, And you embrace th' occasion to depart. SALARINO Good morrow, my good lords. BASSANIO Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? Say, when? You grow exceeding strange. Must it be so? SALARINO We'll make our leisures to attend on yours. [Salarino and Solanio exit.] LORENZO My Lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio, We two will leave you. But at dinner time I pray you have in mind where we must meet. BASSANIO I will not fail you. GRATIANO 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 marvelously changed. ANTONIO I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano, A stage where every man must play a part, And mine a sad one. GRATIANO Let me play the fool. With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come, 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 'tis my love that speaks): There are a sort of men whose visages Do cream and mantle like a standing pond And do a willful stillness entertain With purpose to be dressed 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." O 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. But fish not with this melancholy bait For this fool gudgeon, this opinion.-- Come, good Lorenzo.--Fare you well a while. I'll end my exhortation after dinner. LORENZO 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. GRATIANO Well, keep me company but two years more, Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue. ANTONIO Fare you well. I'll grow a talker for this gear. GRATIANO Thanks, i' faith, for silence is only commendable In a neat's tongue dried and a maid not vendible. [Gratiano and Lorenzo exit.] ANTONIO Is that anything now? BASSANIO 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. ANTONIO Well, tell me now what lady is the same To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, That you today promised to tell me of? BASSANIO '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, 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 unburden all my plots and purposes How to get clear of all the debts I owe. ANTONIO I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it; And if it stand, as you yourself still do, Within the eye of honor, be assured My purse, my person, my extremest means Lie all unlocked to your occasions. BASSANIO In my school days, when I had lost one shaft, I shot his fellow of the selfsame flight The selfsame 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 willful youth, That which I owe is lost. But if you please To shoot another arrow that self way Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, As I will watch the aim, or to find both Or bring your latter hazard back again, And thankfully rest debtor for the first. ANTONIO You know me well, and herein spend but time To wind about my love with circumstance; And out of doubt you do me now more wrong In making question of my uttermost Than if you had made waste of all I have. Then do but say to me what I should do That in your knowledge may by me be done, And I am prest unto it. Therefore speak. BASSANIO 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 Hang on her temples like a golden fleece, Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' strond, And many Jasons come in quest of her. O my Antonio, had I but the means To hold a rival place with one of them, I have a mind presages me such thrift That I should questionless be fortunate! ANTONIO Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at sea; Neither have I money nor commodity To raise a present sum. Therefore go forth: Try what my credit can in Venice do; That shall be racked 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. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Portia with her waiting woman Nerissa.] PORTIA By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary of this great world. NERISSA You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were in the same abundance as your good fortunes 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. PORTIA Good sentences, and well pronounced. NERISSA They would be better if well followed. PORTIA If to do were as easy as to know what were 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 to 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 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 who I would nor refuse who 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? NERISSA Your father was ever virtuous, and holy men 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 you shall rightly love. But what warmth is there in your affection towards any of these princely suitors that are already come? PORTIA I pray thee, overname them, and as thou namest them, I will describe them, and according to my description level at my affection. NERISSA First, there is the Neapolitan prince. PORTIA Ay, that's a colt indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of his horse, and he makes it a great appropriation to his own good parts that he can shoe him himself. I am much afeard my lady his mother played false with a smith. NERISSA Then is there the County Palatine. PORTIA He doth nothing but frown, as who should say "An you will not have me, choose." He 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! NERISSA How say you by the French lord, Monsieur Le Bon? PORTIA God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker, but he!--why, he hath a horse better than the Neapolitan's, a better bad habit of frowning than the Count Palatine. He is every man in no man. If a throstle sing, he falls straight a-cap'ring. 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 madness, I shall never requite him. NERISSA What say you then to Falconbridge, the young baron of England? PORTIA You know I say nothing to him, for he understands 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 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 behavior everywhere. NERISSA What think you of the Scottish lord, his neighbor? PORTIA That he hath a neighborly charity in him, for he borrowed a box of the ear of the Englishman, and swore he would pay him again when he was able. I think the Frenchman became his surety and sealed under for another. NERISSA How like you the young German, the Duke of Saxony's nephew? PORTIA 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. NERISSA 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. PORTIA Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee 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 will be married to a sponge. NERISSA 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 suit, unless you may be won by some other sort than your father's imposition depending on the caskets. PORTIA 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! NERISSA Do you not remember, lady, in your father's time, a Venetian, a scholar and a soldier, that came hither in company of the Marquess of Montferrat? PORTIA Yes, yes, it was Bassanio--as I think so was he called. NERISSA True, madam. He, of all the men that ever my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best deserving a fair lady. PORTIA I remember him well, and I remember him worthy of thy praise. [Enter a Servingman.] How now, what news? SERVINGMAN 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 tonight. PORTIA If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good 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 devil, I had rather he should shrive me than wive me. Come, Nerissa. [To Servingman.] Sirrah, go before.-- Whiles we shut the gate upon one wooer, another knocks at the door. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Bassanio with Shylock the Jew.] SHYLOCK Three thousand ducats, well. BASSANIO Ay, sir, for three months. SHYLOCK For three months, well. BASSANIO For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be bound. SHYLOCK Antonio shall become bound, well. BASSANIO May you stead me? Will you pleasure me? Shall I know your answer? SHYLOCK Three thousand ducats for three months, and Antonio bound. BASSANIO Your answer to that? SHYLOCK Antonio is a good man. BASSANIO Have you heard any imputation to the contrary? SHYLOCK 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 supposition: 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 squandered abroad. But ships are but boards, sailors but men; there be land rats and water 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. BASSANIO Be assured you may. SHYLOCK I will be assured I may. And that I may be assured, I will bethink me. May I speak with Antonio? BASSANIO If it please you to dine with us. SHYLOCK 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.] BASSANIO This is Signior Antonio. SHYLOCK, [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, Which he calls "interest." Cursed be my tribe If I forgive him! BASSANIO Shylock, do you hear? SHYLOCK 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 Antonio.] Rest you fair, good signior! Your Worship was the last man in our mouths. ANTONIO Shylock, albeit I neither lend nor borrow By taking nor by giving of excess, Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend, I'll break a custom. [To Bassanio.] Is he yet possessed How much you would? SHYLOCK Ay, ay, three thousand ducats. ANTONIO And for three months. SHYLOCK I had forgot--three months. [To Bassanio.] You told me so.-- Well then, your bond. And let me see--but hear you: Methoughts you said you neither lend nor borrow Upon advantage. ANTONIO I do never use it. SHYLOCK 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-- ANTONIO And what of him? Did he take interest? SHYLOCK 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 streaked and pied Should fall as Jacob's hire, the ewes being rank In end of autumn turned to the rams, And when the work of generation was Between these woolly breeders in the act, The skillful shepherd pilled 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-colored 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. ANTONIO This was a venture, sir, that Jacob served for, A thing not in his power to bring to pass, But swayed and fashioned by the hand of heaven. Was this inserted to make interest good? Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams? SHYLOCK I cannot tell; I make it breed as fast. But note me, signior-- ANTONIO, [aside to Bassanio] 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, A goodly apple rotten at the heart. O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath! SHYLOCK Three thousand ducats. 'Tis a good round sum. Three months from twelve, then let me see, the rate-- ANTONIO Well, Shylock, shall we be beholding to you? SHYLOCK 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 suff'rance is the badge of all our tribe). You call me misbeliever, cutthroat dog, And spet 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 "Hath a dog money? Is it possible A cur can lend three thousand ducats?" Or Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key, With bated breath and whisp'ring humbleness, Say this: "Fair sir, you spet on me on Wednesday last; You spurned me such a day; another time You called me 'dog'; and for these courtesies I'll lend you thus much moneys"? ANTONIO I am as like to call thee so again, To spet 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 mayst with better face Exact the penalty. SHYLOCK Why, look you how you storm! I would be friends with you and have your love, Forget the shames that you have stained me with, Supply your present wants, and take no doit Of usance for my moneys, and you'll not hear me! This is kind I offer. BASSANIO This were kindness! SHYLOCK 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 Expressed in the condition, let the forfeit Be nominated for an equal pound Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken In what part of your body pleaseth me. ANTONIO Content, in faith. I'll seal to such a bond, And say there is much kindness in the Jew. BASSANIO You shall not seal to such a bond for me! I'll rather dwell in my necessity. ANTONIO 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. SHYLOCK O father Abram, what these Christians are, 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 favor I extend this friendship. If he will take it, so. If not, adieu; And for my love I pray you wrong me not. ANTONIO Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond. SHYLOCK Then meet me forthwith at the notary's. Give him direction for this merry bond, 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'll be with you. ANTONIO Hie thee, gentle Jew. [Shylock exits.] The Hebrew will turn Christian; he grows kind. BASSANIO I like not fair terms and a villain's mind. ANTONIO Come on, in this there can be no dismay; My ships come home a month before the day. [They exit.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter the Prince of Morocco, a tawny Moor all in white, and three or four followers accordingly, with Portia, Nerissa, and their train.] MOROCCO Mislike me not for my complexion, The shadowed livery of the burnished sun, To whom I am a neighbor 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 feared the valiant; by my love I swear The best regarded virgins of our clime Have loved it too. I would not change this hue Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen. PORTIA In terms of choice I am not solely led By nice direction of a maiden's eyes; Besides, the lott'ry 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 As any comer I have looked on yet For my affection. MOROCCO 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 o'erstare 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, To win thee, lady. But, alas the while! If Hercules and Lychas 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. PORTIA You must take your chance And either not attempt to choose at all Or swear before you choose, if you choose wrong Never to speak to lady afterward In way of marriage. Therefore be advised. MOROCCO Nor will not. Come, bring me unto my chance. PORTIA First, forward to the temple. After dinner Your hazard shall be made. MOROCCO Good fortune then, To make me blest--or cursed'st among men! [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Lancelet Gobbo the Clown, alone.] LANCELET 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, Lancelet Gobbo, good Lancelet," or "good Gobbo," or "good Lancelet Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, run away." My conscience says "No. Take heed, honest Lancelet, take heed, honest Gobbo," or, as aforesaid, "honest Lancelet Gobbo, do not run; scorn running with thy heels." Well, the most courageous fiend bids me pack. "Fia!" 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 Lancelet, 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 "Lancelet, budge not." "Budge," says the fiend. "Budge not," says my conscience. "Conscience," say I, "you counsel well." "Fiend," say I, "you counsel well." To be ruled by my conscience, I should stay with the Jew my master, who (God bless the mark) is a kind of devil; and to run away from the Jew, I should be ruled by the fiend, who (saving your reverence) is the devil himself. Certainly the Jew is the very devil incarnation, and, in my conscience, my conscience is but a kind of hard conscience to offer to counsel me to stay with the Jew. The fiend gives the more friendly counsel. I will run, fiend. My heels are at your commandment. I will run. [Enter old Gobbo with a basket.] GOBBO Master young man, you, I pray you, which is the way to Master Jew's? LANCELET, [aside] O heavens, this is my true begotten father, who being more than sandblind, high gravelblind, knows me not. I will try confusions with him. GOBBO Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the way to Master Jew's? LANCELET 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. GOBBO Be God's sonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit. Can you tell me whether one Lancelet, that dwells with him, dwell with him or no? LANCELET Talk you of young Master Lancelet? [Aside.] Mark me now, now will I raise the waters.--Talk you of young Master Lancelet? GOBBO No master, sir, but a poor man's son. His father, though I say 't, is an honest exceeding poor man and, God be thanked, well to live. LANCELET Well, let his father be what he will, we talk of young Master Lancelet. GOBBO Your Worship's friend, and Lancelet, sir. LANCELET But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech you, talk you of young Master Lancelet? GOBBO Of Lancelet, an 't please your mastership. LANCELET Ergo, Master Lancelet. Talk not of Master Lancelet, 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. GOBBO Marry, God forbid! The boy was the very staff of my age, my very prop. LANCELET, [aside] Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a staff or a prop?--Do you know me, father? GOBBO Alack the day, I know you not, young gentleman. But I pray you tell me, is my boy, God rest his soul, alive or dead? LANCELET Do you not know me, father? GOBBO Alack, sir, I am sandblind. I know you not. LANCELET Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might 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. [He kneels.] Give me your blessing. Truth will come to light, murder cannot be hid long--a man's son may, but in the end, truth will out. GOBBO Pray you, sir, stand up! I am sure you are not Lancelet my boy. LANCELET Pray you, let's have no more fooling about it, but give me your blessing. I am Lancelet, your boy that was, your son that is, your child that shall be. GOBBO I cannot think you are my son. LANCELET I know not what I shall think of that; but I am Lancelet, the Jew's man, and I am sure Margery your wife is my mother. GOBBO Her name is Margery, indeed. I'll be sworn if thou be Lancelet, thou art mine own flesh and blood. Lord worshiped 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. LANCELET, [standing up] 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. GOBBO Lord, how art thou changed! How dost thou and thy master agree? I have brought him a present. How 'gree you now? LANCELET 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 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, for I am a Jew if I serve the Jew any longer. [Enter Bassanio with Leonardo and a follower or two.] BASSANIO, [to an Attendant] 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. [The Attendant exits.] LANCELET To him, father. GOBBO, [to Bassanio] God bless your Worship. BASSANIO Gramercy. Wouldst thou aught with me? GOBBO Here's my son, sir, a poor boy-- LANCELET Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's man, that would, sir, as my father shall specify-- GOBBO He hath a great infection, sir, as one would say, to serve-- LANCELET Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the Jew, and have a desire, as my father shall specify-- GOBBO His master and he (saving your Worship's reverence) are scarce cater-cousins-- LANCELET 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-- GOBBO I have here a dish of doves that I would bestow upon your Worship, and my suit is-- LANCELET 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-- BASSANIO One speak for both. What would you? LANCELET Serve you, sir. GOBBO That is the very defect of the matter, sir. BASSANIO, [to Lancelet] I know thee well. Thou hast obtained thy suit. Shylock thy master spoke with me this day, And hath preferred thee, if it be preferment To leave a rich Jew's service, to become The follower of so poor a gentleman. LANCELET 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." BASSANIO Thou speak'st it well.--Go, father, with thy son.-- Take leave of thy old master, and inquire My lodging out. [To an Attendant.] Give him a livery More guarded than his fellows'. See it done. [Attendant exits. Bassanio and Leonardo talk apart.] LANCELET Father, in. I cannot get a service, no! I have ne'er a tongue in my head! Well, [studying his palm] 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; eleven 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 featherbed! Here are simple 'scapes. Well, if Fortune be a woman, she's a good wench for this gear. Father, come. I'll take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling. [Lancelet and old Gobbo exit.] BASSANIO I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this. [Handing him a paper.] These things being bought and orderly bestowed, Return in haste, for I do feast tonight My best esteemed acquaintance. Hie thee, go. LEONARDO My best endeavors shall be done herein. [Enter Gratiano.] GRATIANO, [to Leonardo] Where's your master? LEONARDO Yonder, sir, he walks. [Leonardo exits.] GRATIANO Signior Bassanio! BASSANIO Gratiano! GRATIANO I have suit to you. BASSANIO You have obtained it. GRATIANO You must not deny me. I must go with you to Belmont. BASSANIO 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 To allay with some cold drops of modesty Thy skipping spirit, lest through thy wild behavior I be misconstered in the place I go to, And lose my hopes. GRATIANO 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 Like one well studied in a sad ostent To please his grandam, never trust me more. BASSANIO Well, we shall see your bearing. GRATIANO Nay, but I bar tonight. You shall not gauge me By what we do tonight. BASSANIO 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. I have some business. GRATIANO And I must to Lorenzo and the rest. But we will visit you at supper time. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Jessica and Lancelet Gobbo.] JESSICA 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, Lancelet, 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. LANCELET Adieu. Tears exhibit my tongue, most beautiful pagan, most sweet Jew. If a Christian do not play the knave and get thee, I am much deceived. But adieu. These foolish drops do something drown my manly spirit. Adieu. JESSICA Farewell, good Lancelet. [Lancelet exits.] 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, I am not to his manners. O Lorenzo, If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife, Become a Christian and thy loving wife. [She exits.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and Solanio.] LORENZO Nay, we will slink away in supper time, Disguise us at my lodging, and return All in an hour. GRATIANO We have not made good preparation. SALARINO We have not spoke us yet of torchbearers. SOLANIO 'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly ordered, And better in my mind not undertook. LORENZO 'Tis now but four o'clock. We have two hours To furnish us. [Enter Lancelet.] Friend Lancelet, what's the news? LANCELET An it shall please you to break up this, it shall seem to signify. [Handing him Jessica's letter.] LORENZO I know the hand; in faith, 'tis a fair hand, And whiter than the paper it writ on Is the fair hand that writ. GRATIANO Love news, in faith! LANCELET By your leave, sir. LORENZO Whither goest thou? LANCELET Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew to sup tonight with my new master the Christian. LORENZO Hold here, take this. [Giving him money.] Tell gentle Jessica I will not fail her. Speak it privately. [Lancelet exits.] Go, gentlemen, Will you prepare you for this masque tonight? I am provided of a torchbearer. SALARINO Ay, marry, I'll be gone about it straight. SOLANIO And so will I. LORENZO Meet me and Gratiano At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence. SALARINO 'Tis good we do so. [Salarino and Solanio exit.] GRATIANO Was not that letter from fair Jessica? LORENZO I must needs tell thee all. She hath directed How I shall take her from her father's house, What gold and jewels she is furnished 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; [Handing him the letter.] Fair Jessica shall be my torchbearer. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Shylock, the Jew, and Lancelet, his man that was, the Clown.] SHYLOCK Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy judge, The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio.-- What, Jessica!--Thou shalt not gormandize As thou hast done with me--what, Jessica!-- And sleep, and snore, and rend apparel out.-- Why, Jessica, I say! LANCELET Why, Jessica! SHYLOCK Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call. LANCELET Your Worship was wont to tell me I could do nothing without bidding. [Enter Jessica.] JESSICA Call you? What is your will? SHYLOCK 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'll 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 tonight. LANCELET I beseech you, sir, go. My young master doth expect your reproach. SHYLOCK So do I his. LANCELET 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-bleeding on Black Monday last, at six o'clock i' th' morning, falling out that year on Ash Wednesday was four year in th' afternoon. SHYLOCK 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-necked fife, Clamber not you up to the casements then, Nor thrust your head into the public street To gaze on Christian fools with varnished faces, But stop my house's ears (I mean my casements). Let not the sound of shallow fopp'ry enter My sober house. By Jacob's staff I swear I have no mind of feasting forth tonight. But I will go.--Go you before me, sirrah. Say I will come. LANCELET I will go before, sir. [Aside to Jessica.] Mistress, look out at window for all this. There will come a Christian by Will be worth a Jewess' eye. [He exits.] SHYLOCK What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha? JESSICA His words were "Farewell, mistress," nothing else. SHYLOCK The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder, Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day More than the wildcat. Drones hive not with me, Therefore I part with him, and part with him To one that I would have him help to waste His borrowed 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. [He exits.] JESSICA Farewell, and if my fortune be not crossed, I have a father, you a daughter, lost. [She exits.] Scene 6 ======= [Enter the masquers, Gratiano and Salarino.] GRATIANO This is the penthouse under which Lorenzo Desired us to make stand. SALARINO His hour is almost past. GRATIANO And it is marvel he outdwells his hour, For lovers ever run before the clock. SALARINO O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly To seal love's bonds new-made than they are wont To keep obliged faith unforfeited. GRATIANO That ever holds. Who riseth from a feast With that keen appetite that he sits down? Where is the horse that doth untread again His tedious measures with the unbated fire That he did pace them first? All things that are, Are with more spirit chased than enjoyed. How like a younger or a prodigal The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, Hugged and embraced by the strumpet wind; How like the prodigal doth she return With overweathered ribs and ragged sails, Lean, rent, and beggared by the strumpet wind! [Enter Lorenzo.] SALARINO Here comes Lorenzo. More of this hereafter. LORENZO 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'll watch as long for you then. Approach. Here dwells my father Jew.--Ho! Who's within? [Enter Jessica above, dressed as a boy.] JESSICA Who are you? Tell me for more certainty, Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue. LORENZO Lorenzo, and thy love. JESSICA Lorenzo certain, and my love indeed, For who love I so much? And now who knows But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours? LORENZO Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art. JESSICA Here, catch this casket; it is worth the pains. 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. LORENZO Descend, for you must be my torchbearer. JESSICA 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. LORENZO 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 stayed for at Bassanio's feast. JESSICA I will make fast the doors and gild myself With some more ducats, and be with you straight. [Jessica exits, above.] GRATIANO Now, by my hood, a gentle and no Jew! LORENZO 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, gentleman, away! Our masquing mates by this time for us stay. [All but Gratiano exit.] [Enter Antonio.] ANTONIO Who's there? GRATIANO Signior Antonio? ANTONIO Fie, fie, Gratiano, where are all the rest? 'Tis nine o'clock! Our friends all stay for you. No masque tonight; the wind is come about; Bassanio presently will go aboard. I have sent twenty out to seek for you. GRATIANO I am glad on 't. I desire no more delight Than to be under sail and gone tonight. [They exit.] Scene 7 ======= [Enter Portia with the Prince of Morocco and both their trains.] PORTIA Go, draw aside the curtains and discover The several caskets to this noble prince. [A curtain is drawn.] Now make your choice. MOROCCO This 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? PORTIA The one of them contains my picture, prince. If you choose that, then I am yours withal. MOROCCO Some god direct my judgment! Let me see. I will survey th' inscriptions back again. What says this leaden casket? "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. I'll then nor give nor hazard aught for lead. What says the silver with her virgin hue? "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 beest rated by thy estimation, Thou dost deserve enough; and yet enough May not extend so far as to the lady. And yet to be afeard of my deserving Were but a weak disabling of myself. 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 strayed no farther, 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. 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 Spets 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. 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 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 insculped upon; 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. PORTIA There, take it, prince. [Handing him the key.] And if my form lie there, Then I am yours. [Morocco opens the gold casket.] MOROCCO O hell! What have we here? A carrion death within whose empty eye There is a written scroll. I'll read the writing: 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, Young in limbs, in judgment old, Your answer had not been enscrolled. Fare you well, your suit is cold. Cold indeed and labor lost! Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost. Portia, adieu. I have too grieved a heart To take a tedious leave. Thus losers part. [He exits, with his train.] PORTIA A gentle riddance! Draw the curtains, go. Let all of his complexion choose me so. [They exit.] Scene 8 ======= [Enter Salarino and Solanio.] SALARINO Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail; With him is Gratiano gone along; And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not. SOLANIO The villain Jew with outcries raised the Duke, Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship. SALARINO 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 They were not with Bassanio in his ship. SOLANIO 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, stol'n from me by my daughter, And jewels--two stones, two rich and precious stones-- Stol'n by my daughter! Justice! Find the girl! She hath the stones upon her, and the ducats." SALARINO Why, all the boys in Venice follow him, Crying "His stones, his daughter, and his ducats." SOLANIO Let good Antonio look he keep his day, Or he shall pay for this. SALARINO Marry, well remembered. I reasoned with a Frenchman yesterday Who told me, in the Narrow Seas that part The French and English, there miscarried A vessel of our country richly fraught. I thought upon Antonio when he told me, And wished in silence that it were not his. SOLANIO You were best to tell Antonio what you hear-- Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him. SALARINO 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 answered "Do not so. Slubber not business for my sake, Bassanio, But stay the very riping of the time; 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. SOLANIO I think he only loves the world for him. I pray thee, let us go and find him out And quicken his embraced heaviness With some delight or other. SALARINO Do we so. [They exit.] Scene 9 ======= [Enter Nerissa and a Servitor.] NERISSA Quick, quick, I pray thee, draw the curtain straight. The Prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath And comes to his election presently. [Enter the Prince of Arragon, his train, and Portia.] PORTIA Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince. If you choose that wherein I am contained, Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemnized. But if you fail, without more speech, my lord, You must be gone from hence immediately. ARRAGON I am enjoined by oath to observe three things: First, never to unfold to anyone 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. PORTIA To these injunctions everyone doth swear That comes to hazard for my worthless self. ARRAGON And so have I addressed me. Fortune now To my heart's hope! Gold, silver, and base lead. "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." 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, Which pries not to th' interior, but like the martlet Builds in the weather on the outward wall, Even in the force and road of casualty. I will not choose what many men desire, Because I will not jump with common spirits And rank me with the barbarous multitudes. Why, then, to thee, thou silver treasure house. Tell me once more what title thou dost bear. "Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves." And well said, too; for who shall go about To cozen fortune and be honorable Without the stamp of merit? Let none presume To wear an undeserved dignity. O, that estates, degrees, and offices Were not derived corruptly, and that clear honor 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 gleaned From the true seed of honor? And how much honor Picked from the chaff and ruin of the times, To be new varnished? 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, [He is given a key.] And instantly unlock my fortunes here. [He opens the silver casket.] PORTIA Too long a pause for that which you find there. ARRAGON What's here? The portrait of a blinking idiot Presenting me a schedule! I will read it.-- How much unlike art thou to Portia! How much unlike my hopes and my deservings. "Who 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? PORTIA To offend and judge are distinct offices And of opposed natures. ARRAGON What is here? [He reads.] The fire seven times tried this; Seven times tried that judgment is That did never choose amiss. Some there be that shadows kiss; Such have but a shadow's bliss. There be fools alive, iwis, Silvered o'er--and so was this. Take what wife you will to bed, I will ever be your head. So begone; 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'll keep my oath, Patiently to bear my wroth. [He exits with his train.] PORTIA Thus hath the candle singed the moth. O, these deliberate fools, when they do choose, They have the wisdom by their wit to lose. NERISSA The ancient saying is no heresy: Hanging and wiving goes by destiny. PORTIA Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa. [Enter Messenger.] MESSENGER Where is my lady? PORTIA Here. What would my lord? MESSENGER Madam, there is alighted at your gate A young Venetian, one that comes before To signify th' approaching of his lord, From whom he bringeth sensible regreets; To wit (besides commends and courteous breath), 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. PORTIA 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. NERISSA Bassanio, Lord Love, if thy will it be! [They exit.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Solanio and Salarino.] SOLANIO Now, what news on the Rialto? SALARINO Why, yet it lives there unchecked that Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wracked on the Narrow Seas--the Goodwins, I think they call the place--a very dangerous flat, and fatal, where the carcasses of many a tall ship lie buried, as they say, if my gossip Report be an honest woman of her word. SOLANIO I would she were as lying a gossip in that as ever knapped ginger or made her neighbors believe she wept for the death of a third husband. But it is true, without any slips of prolixity 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!-- SALARINO Come, the full stop. SOLANIO Ha, what sayest thou? Why, the end is, he hath lost a ship. SALARINO I would it might prove the end of his losses. SOLANIO Let me say "amen" betimes, lest the devil cross my prayer, for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew. [Enter Shylock.] How now, Shylock, what news among the merchants? SHYLOCK You knew, none so well, none so well as you, of my daughter's flight. SALARINO That's certain. I for my part knew the tailor that made the wings she flew withal. SOLANIO And Shylock for his own part knew the bird was fledge, and then it is the complexion of them all to leave the dam. SHYLOCK She is damned for it. SALARINO That's certain, if the devil may be her judge. SHYLOCK My own flesh and blood to rebel! SOLANIO Out upon it, old carrion! Rebels it at these years? SHYLOCK I say my daughter is my flesh and my blood. SALARINO There is more difference between thy flesh and 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? SHYLOCK There I have another bad match! A bankrout, 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 cur'sy; let him look to his bond. SALARINO Why, I am sure if he forfeit, thou wilt not take his flesh! What's that good for? SHYLOCK 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 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, 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 is his humility? Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example? Why, revenge! The villainy you teach me I will execute, and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction. [Enter a man from Antonio.] SERVINGMAN Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his house and desires to speak with you both. SALARINO We have been up and down to seek him. [Enter Tubal.] SOLANIO Here comes another of the tribe; a third cannot be matched unless the devil himself turn Jew. [Salarino, Solanio, and the Servingman exit.] SHYLOCK How now, Tubal, what news from Genoa? Hast thou found my daughter? TUBAL I often came where I did hear of her, but cannot find her. SHYLOCK Why, there, there, there, there! A diamond gone cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfurt! 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 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 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 stirring but what lights a' my shoulders, no sighs but a' my breathing, no tears but a' my shedding. TUBAL Yes, other men have ill luck, too. Antonio, as I heard in Genoa-- SHYLOCK What, what, what? Ill luck, ill luck? TUBAL --hath an argosy cast away coming from Tripolis. SHYLOCK I thank God, I thank God! Is it true, is it true? TUBAL I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the wrack. SHYLOCK I thank thee, good Tubal. Good news, good news! Ha, ha, heard in Genoa-- TUBAL Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, one night fourscore ducats. SHYLOCK Thou stick'st a dagger in me. I shall never see my gold again. Fourscore ducats at a sitting, fourscore ducats! TUBAL There came divers of Antonio's creditors in my company to Venice that swear he cannot choose but break. SHYLOCK I am very glad of it. I'll plague him, I'll torture him. I am glad of it. TUBAL One of them showed me a ring that he had of your daughter for a monkey. SHYLOCK 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. TUBAL But Antonio is certainly undone. SHYLOCK 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, Tubal, and meet me at our synagogue. Go, good Tubal, at our synagogue, Tubal. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Bassanio, Portia, and all their trains, Gratiano, Nerissa.] PORTIA I pray you tarry, pause a day or two Before you hazard, for in choosing wrong I lose your company; therefore forbear a while. 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 How to choose right, but then I am forsworn. So will I never be. So may you miss me. But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin, That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes, They have o'erlooked 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 Puts bars between the owners and their rights! And so though yours, not yours. Prove it so, Let Fortune go to hell for it, not I. I speak too long, but 'tis to peize the time, To eche it, and to draw it out in length, To stay you from election. BASSANIO Let me choose, For as I am, I live upon the rack. PORTIA Upon the rack, Bassanio? Then confess What treason there is mingled with your love. BASSANIO None but that ugly treason of mistrust, Which makes me fear th' enjoying of my love. There may as well be amity and life 'Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love. PORTIA Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack Where men enforced do speak anything. BASSANIO Promise me life and I'll confess the truth. PORTIA Well, then, confess and live. BASSANIO "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. PORTIA Away, then. I am locked in one of them. 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 swanlike end, Fading in music. That the comparison May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream And wat'ry deathbed for him. He may win, And what is music then? Then music is Even as the flourish when true subjects bow To a new-crowned monarch. Such it is As are those dulcet sounds in break of 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 th' exploit. Go, Hercules! Live thou, I live. With much much more dismay I view the fight than thou that mak'st the fray. [A song the whilst Bassanio comments on the caskets to himself.] Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart, or in the head? How begot, how nourished? Reply, reply. It is engendered in the eye, With gazing fed, and fancy dies In the cradle where it lies. Let us all ring fancy's knell. I'll begin it.--Ding, dong, bell. ALL Ding, dong, bell. BASSANIO 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 seasoned with a gracious voice, Obscures the show of evil? In religion, What damned error but some sober brow Will bless it and approve it with a text, Hiding the grossness with fair ornament? There is no vice so simple but assumes Some mark of virtue on his outward parts. How many cowards whose hearts are all as false As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars, Who inward searched have livers white as milk, And these assume but valor'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, Making them lightest that wear most of it. So are those crisped snaky golden locks, Which maketh 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 sepulcher. 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 To entrap the wisest. Therefore, then, 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 meager lead, Which rather threaten'st than dost promise aught, Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence, And here choose I. Joy be the consequence! [Bassanio is given a key.] PORTIA, [aside] How all the other passions fleet to air, As doubtful thoughts and rash embraced despair, And shudd'ring fear, and green-eyed jealousy! O love, be moderate, allay thy ecstasy, In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess! I feel too much thy blessing. Make it less, For fear I surfeit. [Bassanio opens the lead casket.] BASSANIO What find I here? Fair Portia's counterfeit! What demigod Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes? Or whether, riding on the balls of mine, Seem they in motion? Here are severed lips Parted with sugar breath; so sweet a bar Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her hairs The painter plays the spider, and hath woven A golden mesh t' 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 unfurnished. 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. [He reads the scroll.] 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. 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 confirmed, signed, ratified by you. PORTIA You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand, Such as I am. Though for myself alone I would not be ambitious in my wish To wish myself much better, yet for 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 unlessoned girl, unschooled, unpracticed; 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, This house, these servants, and this same myself Are yours, my lord's. I give them with this ring, [Handing him a ring.] 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. BASSANIO 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 Among the buzzing pleased multitude, Where every something being blent together Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy Expressed and not expressed. But when this ring Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence. O, then be bold to say Bassanio's dead! NERISSA 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!" GRATIANO My Lord Bassanio, and my gentle lady, I wish you all the joy that you can wish, For I am sure you can wish none from me. And when your honors mean to solemnize The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you Even at that time I may be married too. BASSANIO With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife. GRATIANO 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 No more pertains to me, my lord, than you. Your fortune stood upon the caskets there, And so did mine, too, as the matter falls. For wooing here until I sweat again, And swearing till my very roof was dry With oaths of 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. PORTIA Is this true, Nerissa? NERISSA Madam, it is, so you stand pleased withal. BASSANIO And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith? GRATIANO Yes, faith, my lord. BASSANIO Our feast shall be much honored in your marriage. GRATIANO We'll play with them the first boy for a thousand ducats. NERISSA What, and stake down? GRATIANO No, we shall ne'er win at that sport and stake down. [Enter Lorenzo, Jessica, and Salerio, a messenger from Venice.] But who comes here? Lorenzo and his infidel? What, and my old Venetian friend Salerio? BASSANIO Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hither-- If that the youth of my new int'rest here Have power to bid you welcome. [To Portia.] By your leave, I bid my very friends and countrymen, Sweet Portia, welcome. PORTIA So do I, my lord. They are entirely welcome. LORENZO, [to Bassanio] I thank your Honor. 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 To come with him along. SALERIO I did, my lord, And I have reason for it. [Handing him a paper.] Signior Antonio Commends him to you. BASSANIO Ere I ope his letter, I pray you tell me how my good friend doth. SALERIO Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind, Nor well, unless in mind. His letter there Will show you his estate. [Bassanio opens the letter.] GRATIANO Nerissa, cheer yond stranger, bid her welcome.-- Your hand, Salerio. What's the news from Venice? How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio? I know he will be glad of our success. We are the Jasons, we have won the Fleece. SALERIO I would you had won the fleece that he hath lost. PORTIA There are some shrewd contents in yond same paper That steals the color 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 That this same paper brings you. BASSANIO 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 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? Hath all his ventures failed? What, not one hit? From Tripolis, from Mexico and England, From Lisbon, Barbary, and India, And not one vessel 'scape the dreadful touch Of merchant-marring rocks? SALERIO 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, The Duke himself, and the magnificoes Of greatest port have all persuaded with him, But none can drive him from the envious plea Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond. JESSICA When I was with him, I have heard him swear To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen, That he would rather have Antonio's flesh Than twenty times the value of the sum That he did owe him. And I know, my lord, If law, authority, and power deny not, It will go hard with poor Antonio. PORTIA Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble? BASSANIO The dearest friend to me, the kindest man, The best conditioned and unwearied spirit In doing courtesies, and one in whom The ancient Roman honor more appears Than any that draws breath in Italy. PORTIA What sum owes he the Jew? BASSANIO For me, three thousand ducats. PORTIA What, no more? Pay him six thousand and deface the bond. Double six thousand and then treble that, Before a friend of this description Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault. First go with me to church and call me wife, 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 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. BASSANIO [reads] Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all miscarried, 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 you at my death. Notwithstanding, use your pleasure. If your love do not persuade you to come, let not my letter. PORTIA O love, dispatch all business and begone! BASSANIO 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, Nor rest be interposer 'twixt us twain. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Shylock, the Jew, and Solanio, and Antonio, and the Jailer.] SHYLOCK Jailer, look to him. Tell not me of mercy. This is the fool that lent out money gratis. Jailer, look to him. ANTONIO Hear me yet, good Shylock-- SHYLOCK I'll 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 jailer, that thou art so fond To come abroad with him at his request. ANTONIO I pray thee, hear me speak-- SHYLOCK I'll 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'll have no speaking. I will have my bond. [He exits.] SOLANIO It is the most impenetrable cur That ever kept with men. ANTONIO Let him alone. I'll follow him no more with bootless prayers. He seeks my life. His reason well I know: I oft delivered from his forfeitures Many that have at times made moan to me. Therefore he hates me. SOLANIO I am sure the Duke Will never grant this forfeiture to hold. ANTONIO The Duke cannot deny the course of law, For the commodity that strangers have With us in Venice, if it be denied, Will much impeach the justice of the state, Since that the trade and profit of the city Consisteth of all nations. Therefore go. These griefs and losses have so bated me That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh Tomorrow to my bloody creditor.-- Well, jailer, on.--Pray God Bassanio come To see me pay his debt, and then I care not. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Portia, Nerissa, Lorenzo, Jessica, and Balthazar, a man of Portia's.] LORENZO Madam, although I speak it in your presence, You have a noble and a true conceit Of godlike amity, which appears most strongly In bearing thus the absence of your lord. But if you knew to whom you show this honor, 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. PORTIA I never did repent for doing good, 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 bestowed In purchasing the semblance of my soul From out the state of hellish cruelty! 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. There is a monastery two miles off, And there we will abide. I do desire you Not to deny this imposition, The which my love and some necessity Now lays upon you. LORENZO Madam, with all my heart. I shall obey you in all fair commands. PORTIA My people do already know my mind And will acknowledge you and Jessica In place of Lord Bassanio and myself. So fare you well till we shall meet again. LORENZO Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you! JESSICA I wish your Ladyship all heart's content. PORTIA I thank you for your wish, and am well pleased To wish it back on you. Fare you well, Jessica. [Lorenzo and Jessica exit.] Now, Balthazar, As I have ever found thee honest true, So let me find thee still: take this same letter, And use thou all th' endeavor of a man In speed to Padua. See thou render this Into my cousin's hands, Doctor Bellario. [She gives him a paper.] And look what notes and garments he doth give thee, Bring them, I pray thee, with imagined speed Unto the traject, to the common ferry Which trades to Venice. Waste no time in words, But get thee gone. I shall be there before thee. BALTHAZAR Madam, I go with all convenient speed. [He exits.] PORTIA Come on, Nerissa, I have work in hand That you yet know not of. We'll see our husbands Before they think of us. NERISSA Shall they see us? PORTIA They shall, Nerissa, but in such a habit That they shall think we are accomplished With that we lack. I'll hold thee any wager, When we are both accoutered like young men, I'll prove the prettier fellow of the two, And wear my dagger with the 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 honorable ladies sought my love, Which I denying, they fell sick and died-- I could not do withal!--then I'll repent, And wish, for all that, that I had not killed them. And twenty of these puny lies I'll 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 practice. NERISSA Why, shall we turn to men? PORTIA Fie, what a question's that, If thou wert near a lewd interpreter! 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 today. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Lancelet, the Clown, and Jessica.] LANCELET Yes, truly, for look you, the sins of the father are to be laid upon the children. Therefore I promise you I fear you. I was always plain with you, and so now I speak my agitation of the matter. Therefore be o' 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. JESSICA And what hope is that, I pray thee? LANCELET Marry, you may partly hope that your father got you not, that you are not the Jew's daughter. JESSICA That were a kind of bastard hope indeed; so the sins of my mother should be visited upon me! LANCELET 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. JESSICA I shall be saved by my husband. He hath made me a Christian. LANCELET 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.] JESSICA I'll tell my husband, Lancelet, what you say. Here he comes. LORENZO I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Lancelet, if you thus get my wife into corners! JESSICA Nay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo. Lancelet and I are out. He tells me flatly there's 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. LORENZO I shall answer that better to the commonwealth than you can the getting up of the Negro's belly! The Moor is with child by you, Lancelet. LANCELET 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. LORENZO 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. LANCELET That is done, sir. They have all stomachs. LORENZO Goodly Lord, what a wit-snapper are you! Then bid them prepare dinner. LANCELET That is done too, sir, only "cover" is the word. LORENZO Will you cover, then, sir? LANCELET Not so, sir, neither! I know my duty. LORENZO Yet more quarreling 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 them cover the table, serve in the meat, and we will come in to dinner. LANCELET 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 humors and conceits shall govern. [Lancelet exits.] LORENZO 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, Garnished 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? JESSICA 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 merit it, In reason he should never come to heaven. 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 Pawned with the other, for the poor rude world Hath not her fellow. LORENZO Even such a husband Hast thou of me as she is for a wife. JESSICA Nay, but ask my opinion too of that! LORENZO I will anon. First let us go to dinner. JESSICA Nay, let me praise you while I have a stomach! LORENZO No, pray thee, let it serve for table talk. Then howsome'er thou speak'st, 'mong other things I shall digest it. JESSICA Well, I'll set you forth. [They exit.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter the Duke, the Magnificoes, Antonio, Bassanio, Salerio, and Gratiano, with Attendants.] DUKE What, is Antonio here? ANTONIO Ready, so please your Grace. DUKE I am sorry for thee. Thou art come to answer A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch, Uncapable of pity, void and empty From any dram of mercy. ANTONIO 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 My patience to his fury, and am armed To suffer with a quietness of spirit The very tyranny and rage of his. DUKE Go, one, and call the Jew into the court. SALERIO 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 leadest this fashion of thy malice To the last hour of act, and then, 'tis thought, Thou 'lt show thy mercy and remorse more strange Than is thy strange apparent cruelty; And where thou now exacts the penalty, Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh, Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture, But, touched with humane gentleness and love, Forgive a moi'ty 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 From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint, From stubborn Turks, and Tartars never trained To offices of tender courtesy. We all expect a gentle answer, Jew. SHYLOCK I have possessed 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'll ask me why I rather choose to have A weight of carrion flesh than to receive Three thousand ducats. I'll not answer that, But say it is my humor. Is it answered? 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 answered 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' th' nose, Cannot contain their urine; for affection Masters oft passion, sways it to the mood Of what it likes or loathes. Now for your answer: As there is no firm reason to be rendered Why he cannot abide a gaping pig, Why he a harmless necessary cat, Why he a woolen bagpipe, 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 I bear Antonio, that I follow thus A losing suit against him. Are you answered? BASSANIO This is no answer, thou unfeeling man, To excuse the current of thy cruelty. SHYLOCK I am not bound to please thee with my answers. BASSANIO Do all men kill the things they do not love? SHYLOCK Hates any man the thing he would not kill? BASSANIO Every offence is not a hate at first. SHYLOCK What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice? ANTONIO, [to Bassanio] I pray you, think you question with the Jew. 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 anything most hard As seek to soften that than which what's harder?-- His Jewish heart. Therefore I do beseech you Make no more offers, use no farther means, But with all brief and plain conveniency Let me have judgment and the Jew his will. BASSANIO For thy three thousand ducats here is six. SHYLOCK 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, rend'ring none? SHYLOCK What judgment shall I dread, doing no wrong? You have among you many a purchased slave, 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 burdens? Let their beds Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates Be seasoned with such viands"? You will answer "The slaves are ours!" So do I answer you: The pound of flesh which I demand of him Is dearly bought; 'tis mine and I will have it. If you deny me, fie upon your law: There is no force in the decrees of Venice. I stand for judgment. 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 today. SALERIO My lord, here stays without A messenger with letters from the doctor, New come from Padua. DUKE Bring us the letters. Call the messenger. BASSANIO 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! ANTONIO 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 employed, Bassanio, Than to live still and write mine epitaph. [Enter Nerissa, disguised as a lawyer's clerk.] DUKE Came you from Padua, from Bellario? NERISSA, [as Clerk] From both, my lord. Bellario greets your Grace. [Handing him a paper, which he reads, aside, while Shylock sharpens his knife on the sole of his shoe.] BASSANIO Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly? SHYLOCK To cut the forfeiture from that bankrout there. GRATIANO Not on thy sole but on thy soul, harsh Jew, Thou mak'st thy knife keen. But no metal can, No, not the hangman's axe, bear half the keenness Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee? SHYLOCK No, none that thou hast wit enough to make. GRATIANO O, be thou damned, inexecrable dog, And for thy life let justice be accused; Thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith, To hold opinion with Pythagoras That souls of animals infuse themselves Into the trunks of men. Thy currish spirit Governed a wolf who, hanged for human slaughter, Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet, And whilst thou layest in thy unhallowed dam, Infused itself in thee, for thy desires Are wolfish, bloody, starved, and ravenous. SHYLOCK Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond, Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud. 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? NERISSA, [as Clerk] He attendeth here hard by To know your answer whether you'll admit him. DUKE With all my heart.--Some three or four of you Go give him courteous conduct to this place. [Attendants exit.] Meantime the court shall hear Bellario's letter. [He reads.] Your Grace shall understand that, at the receipt of your letter, I am very sick, but in the instant that your messenger came, in loving visitation was with me a young doctor of Rome. His name is Balthazar. I acquainted him with the cause in controversy between the Jew and Antonio the merchant. We turned o'er many books together. 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 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. You hear the learned Bellario what he writes. [Enter Portia for Balthazar, disguised as a doctor of laws, with Attendants.] And here I take it is the doctor come.-- Give me your hand. Come you from old Bellario? PORTIA, [as Balthazar] I did, my lord. DUKE You are welcome. Take your place. Are you acquainted with the difference That holds this present question in the court? PORTIA, [as Balthazar] I am informed throughly of the cause. Which is the merchant here? And which the Jew? DUKE Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth. PORTIA, [as Balthazar] Is your name Shylock? SHYLOCK Shylock is my name. PORTIA, [as Balthazar] Of a strange nature is the suit you follow, Yet in such rule that the Venetian law Cannot impugn you as you do proceed. [To Antonio.] You stand within his danger, do you not? ANTONIO Ay, so he says. PORTIA, [as Balthazar] Do you confess the bond? ANTONIO I do. PORTIA, [as Balthazar] Then must the Jew be merciful. SHYLOCK On what compulsion must I? Tell me that. PORTIA, [as Balthazar] The quality of mercy is not strained. 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 scepter shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above this sceptered 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, 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. SHYLOCK My deeds upon my head! I crave the law, The penalty and forfeit of my bond. PORTIA, [as Balthazar] Is he not able to discharge the money? BASSANIO Yes. Here I tender it for him in the court, Yea, twice the sum. If that will not suffice, 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 That malice bears down truth. [To the Duke.] 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. PORTIA, [as Balthazar] It must not be. There is no power in Venice Can alter a decree established; 'Twill be recorded for a precedent And many an error by the same example Will rush into the state. It cannot be. SHYLOCK A Daniel come to judgment! Yea, a Daniel. O wise young judge, how I do honor thee! PORTIA, [as Balthazar] I pray you let me look upon the bond. SHYLOCK Here 'tis, most reverend doctor, here it is. [Handing Portia a paper.] PORTIA, [as Balthazar] Shylock, there's thrice thy money offered thee. SHYLOCK An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven! Shall I lay perjury upon my soul? No, not for Venice! PORTIA, [as Balthazar] Why, this bond is forfeit, 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. SHYLOCK When it is paid according to the tenor. It doth appear you are a worthy judge; You know the law; your exposition Hath been most sound. I charge you by the law, Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar, Proceed to judgment. By my soul I swear There is no power in the tongue of man To alter me. I stay here on my bond. ANTONIO Most heartily I do beseech the court To give the judgment. PORTIA, [as Balthazar] Why, then, thus it is: You must prepare your bosom for his knife-- SHYLOCK O noble judge! O excellent young man! PORTIA, [as Balthazar] For the intent and purpose of the law Hath full relation to the penalty, Which here appeareth due upon the bond. SHYLOCK 'Tis very true. O wise and upright judge, How much more elder art thou than thy looks! PORTIA, [as Balthazar, to Antonio] Therefore lay bare your bosom-- SHYLOCK Ay, his breast! So says the bond, doth it not, noble judge? "Nearest his heart." Those are the very words. PORTIA, [as Balthazar] It is so. Are there balance here to weigh the flesh? SHYLOCK I have them ready. PORTIA, [as Balthazar] Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge, To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death. SHYLOCK Is it so nominated in the bond? PORTIA, [as Balthazar] It is not so expressed, but what of that? 'Twere good you do so much for charity. SHYLOCK I cannot find it. 'Tis not in the bond. PORTIA, [as Balthazar] You, merchant, have you anything to say? ANTONIO But little. I am armed and well prepared.-- Give me your hand, Bassanio. Fare you well. Grieve not that I am fall'n 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 An age of poverty, from which ling'ring penance Of such misery doth she cut me off. Commend me to your honorable 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. For if the Jew do cut but deep enough, I'll pay it instantly with all my heart. BASSANIO 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 esteemed above thy life. I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all Here to this devil, to deliver you. PORTIA, [aside] Your wife would give you little thanks for that If she were by to hear you make the offer. GRATIANO I have a wife who I protest I love. I would she were in heaven, so she could Entreat some power to change this currish Jew. NERISSA, [aside] 'Tis well you offer it behind her back. The wish would make else an unquiet house. SHYLOCK These be the Christian husbands! I have a daughter-- Would any of the stock of Barabbas Had been her husband, rather than a Christian! We trifle time. I pray thee, pursue sentence. PORTIA, [as Balthazar] A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine: The court awards it, and the law doth give it. SHYLOCK Most rightful judge! PORTIA, [as Balthazar] And you must cut this flesh from off his breast: The law allows it, and the court awards it. SHYLOCK Most learned judge! A sentence!--Come, prepare. PORTIA, [as Balthazar] 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 Unto the state of Venice. GRATIANO O upright judge!--Mark, Jew.--O learned judge! SHYLOCK Is that the law? PORTIA, [as Balthazar] Thyself shalt see the act. For, as thou urgest justice, be assured Thou shalt have justice more than thou desir'st. GRATIANO O learned judge!--Mark, Jew, a learned judge! SHYLOCK I take this offer then. Pay the bond thrice And let the Christian go. BASSANIO Here is the money. PORTIA, [as Balthazar] Soft! The Jew shall have all justice. Soft, no haste! He shall have nothing but the penalty. GRATIANO O Jew, an upright judge, a learned judge! PORTIA, [as Balthazar] 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 tak'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 But in the estimation of a hair, Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate. GRATIANO A second Daniel! A Daniel, Jew! Now, infidel, I have you on the hip. PORTIA, [as Balthazar] Why doth the Jew pause? Take thy forfeiture. SHYLOCK Give me my principal and let me go. BASSANIO I have it ready for thee. Here it is. PORTIA, [as Balthazar] He hath refused it in the open court. He shall have merely justice and his bond. GRATIANO A Daniel still, say I! A second Daniel!-- I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. SHYLOCK Shall I not have barely my principal? PORTIA, [as Balthazar] Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture To be so taken at thy peril, Jew. SHYLOCK Why, then, the devil give him good of it! I'll stay no longer question. [He begins to exit.] PORTIA, [as Balthazar] 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 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 Of the defendant, and thou hast incurred The danger formerly by me rehearsed. Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke. GRATIANO Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thyself! And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state, Thou hast not left the value of a cord; Therefore thou must be hanged at the state's charge. DUKE That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit, I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it. For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's; The other half comes to the general state, Which humbleness may drive unto a fine. PORTIA, [as Balthazar] Ay, for the state, not for Antonio. SHYLOCK 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. PORTIA, [as Balthazar] What mercy can you render him, Antonio? GRATIANO A halter gratis, nothing else, for God's sake! ANTONIO So please my lord the Duke and all the court To quit the fine for one half of his goods, I am content, so he will let me have The other half in use, to render it Upon his death unto the gentleman That lately stole his daughter. Two things provided more: that for this favor He presently become a Christian; The other, that he do record a gift, Here in the court, of all he dies possessed Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter. DUKE He shall do this, or else I do recant The pardon that I late pronounced here. PORTIA, [as Balthazar] Art thou contented, Jew? What dost thou say? SHYLOCK I am content. PORTIA, [as Balthazar] Clerk, draw a deed of gift. SHYLOCK I pray you give me leave to go from hence. I am not well. Send the deed after me And I will sign it. DUKE Get thee gone, but do it. GRATIANO In christ'ning shalt thou have two godfathers. Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten more, To bring thee to the gallows, not to the font. [Shylock exits.] DUKE, [to Portia as Balthazar] Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner. PORTIA, [as Balthazar] 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. [The Duke and his train exit.] BASSANIO, [to Portia as Balthazar] Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted Of grievous penalties, in lieu whereof Three thousand ducats due unto the Jew We freely cope your courteous pains withal. ANTONIO And stand indebted, over and above, In love and service to you evermore. PORTIA, [as Balthazar] 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. [She begins to exit.] BASSANIO Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further. Take some remembrance of us as a tribute, Not as fee. Grant me two things, I pray you: Not to deny me, and to pardon me. PORTIA, [as Balthazar] You press me far, and therefore I will yield. Give me your gloves; I'll wear them for your sake-- And for your love I'll take this ring from you. Do not draw back your hand; I'll take no more, And you in love shall not deny me this. BASSANIO This ring, good sir? Alas, it is a trifle. I will not shame myself to give you this. PORTIA, [as Balthazar] I will have nothing else but only this. And now methinks I have a mind to it. BASSANIO 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. PORTIA, [as Balthazar] 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 answered. BASSANIO Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife, And when she put it on, she made me vow That I should neither sell nor give nor lose it. PORTIA, [as Balthazar] That 'scuse serves many men to save their gifts. And if your wife be not a madwoman, And know how well I have deserved this ring, She would not hold out enemy forever For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you. [Portia and Nerissa exit.] ANTONIO My Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring. Let his deservings and my love withal Be valued 'gainst your wife's commandment. BASSANIO Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him. Give him the ring, and bring him if thou canst Unto Antonio's house. Away, make haste. [Gratiano exits.] Come, you and I will thither presently, And in the morning early will we both Fly toward Belmont.--Come, Antonio. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Portia and Nerissa, still in disguise.] PORTIA Inquire the Jew's house out; give him this deed And let him sign it. [She gives Nerissa a paper.] We'll away tonight, And be a day before our husbands home. This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo. [Enter Gratiano.] GRATIANO 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. [He gives her a ring.] PORTIA, [as Balthazar] That cannot be. His ring I do accept most thankfully, And so I pray you tell him. Furthermore, I pray you show my youth old Shylock's house. GRATIANO That will I do. NERISSA, [as Clerk] Sir, I would speak with you. [Aside to Portia.] I'll see if I can get my husband's ring, Which I did make him swear to keep forever. PORTIA, [aside to Nerissa] Thou mayst, I warrant! We shall have old swearing That they did give the rings away to men; But we'll outface them, and outswear them, too.-- Away, make haste! Thou know'st where I will tarry. [She exits.] NERISSA, [as Clerk] Come, good sir, will you show me to this house? [They exit.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Lorenzo and Jessica.] LORENZO 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 Trojan walls And sighed his soul toward the Grecian tents Where Cressid lay that night. JESSICA In such a night Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew And saw the lion's shadow ere himself And ran dismayed away. LORENZO In such a night Stood Dido with a willow in her hand Upon the wild sea-banks, and waft her love To come again to Carthage. JESSICA In such a night Medea gathered the enchanted herbs That did renew old Aeson. LORENZO In such a night Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew, And with an unthrift love did run from Venice As far as Belmont. JESSICA 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. LORENZO In such a night Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, Slander her love, and he forgave it her. JESSICA I would out-night you did nobody come, But hark, I hear the footing of a man. [Enter Stephano, a Messenger.] LORENZO Who comes so fast in silence of the night? STEPHANO A friend. LORENZO A friend? What friend? Your name, I pray you, friend. STEPHANO Stephano is my name, and I bring word My mistress will before the break of day Be here at Belmont. She doth stray about By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays For happy wedlock hours. LORENZO Who comes with her? STEPHANO None but a holy hermit and her maid. I pray you, is my master yet returned? LORENZO 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 Lancelet, the Clown.] LANCELET Sola, sola! Wo ha, ho! Sola, sola! LORENZO Who calls? LANCELET Sola! Did you see Master Lorenzo? Master Lorenzo, sola, sola! LORENZO Leave holloaing, man! Here. LANCELET Sola! Where, where? LORENZO Here! LANCELET Tell him there's a post come from my master with his horn full of good news. My master will be here ere morning, sweet soul. [Lancelet exits.] LORENZO, [to Jessica] Let's in, and there expect their coming. And yet no matter; why should we go in?-- My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you, Within the house, your mistress is at hand, And bring your music forth into the air. [Stephano exits.] 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 patens of bright gold. There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still choiring 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 Stephano and musicians.] Come, ho! and wake Diana with a hymn. With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear, And draw her home with music. [Music plays.] JESSICA I am never merry when I hear sweet music. LORENZO The reason is, your spirits are attentive. For do but note a wild and wanton herd Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, Which is the hot condition of their blood, 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 turned to a modest gaze By the sweet power of music. Therefore the poet Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods, Since naught so stockish, hard, and full of rage, But music for the time doth change his nature. The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not 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.] PORTIA That light we see is burning in my hall. How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world. NERISSA When the moon shone we did not see the candle. PORTIA 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! NERISSA It is your music, madam, of the house. PORTIA Nothing is good, I see, without respect. Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day. NERISSA Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam. PORTIA 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 seasoned are To their right praise and true perfection! Peace--how the moon sleeps with Endymion And would not be awaked! [Music ceases.] LORENZO That is the voice, Or I am much deceived, of Portia. PORTIA He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo, By the bad voice. LORENZO Dear lady, welcome home. PORTIA We have been praying for our husbands' welfare, Which speed we hope the better for our words. Are they returned? LORENZO Madam, they are not yet, But there is come a messenger before To signify their coming. PORTIA Go in, Nerissa. Give order to my servants that they take No note at all of our being absent hence-- Nor you, Lorenzo--Jessica, nor you. [A trumpet sounds.] LORENZO Your husband is at hand. I hear his trumpet. We are no tell-tales, madam, fear you not. PORTIA 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. [Enter Bassanio, Antonio, Gratiano, and their followers.] BASSANIO We should hold day with the Antipodes If you would walk in absence of the sun. PORTIA Let me give light, but let me not be light, For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, And never be Bassanio so for me. But God sort all! You are welcome home, my lord. [Gratiano and Nerissa talk aside.] BASSANIO I thank you, madam. Give welcome to my friend. This is the man, this is Antonio, To whom I am so infinitely bound. PORTIA You should in all sense be much bound to him, For as I hear he was much bound for you. ANTONIO No more than I am well acquitted of. PORTIA Sir, you are very welcome to our house. It must appear in other ways than words; Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy. GRATIANO, [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. PORTIA A quarrel ho, already! What's the matter? GRATIANO 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." NERISSA 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, 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. GRATIANO He will, an if he live to be a man. NERISSA Ay, if a woman live to be a man. GRATIANO 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 begged it as a fee. I could not for my heart deny it him. PORTIA 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 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. BASSANIO, [aside] Why, I were best to cut my left hand off And swear I lost the ring defending it. GRATIANO My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away Unto the judge that begged it, and indeed Deserved it, too. And then the boy, his clerk, That took some pains in writing, he begged mine, And neither man nor master would take aught But the two rings. PORTIA What ring gave you, my lord? Not that, I hope, which you received of me. BASSANIO If I could add a lie unto a fault, I would deny it, but you see my finger Hath not the ring upon it. It is gone. PORTIA Even so void is your false heart of truth. By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed Until I see the ring! NERISSA, [to Gratiano] Nor I in yours Till I again see mine! BASSANIO 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 naught would be accepted but the ring, You would abate the strength of your displeasure. PORTIA If you had known the virtue of the ring, Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, Or your own honor 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'll die for 't but some woman had the ring! BASSANIO No, by my honor, madam, by my soul, No woman had it, but a civil doctor, Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me And begged the ring, the which I did deny him And suffered him to go displeased away, Even he that had held up the very life Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady? I was enforced to send it after him. I was beset with shame and courtesy. My honor would not let ingratitude So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady, For by these blessed candles of the night, Had you been there, I think you would have begged The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. PORTIA 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'll not deny him anything 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, Now by mine honor, which is yet mine own, I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow. NERISSA And I his clerk. Therefore be well advised How you do leave me to mine own protection. GRATIANO Well, do you so. Let not me take him, then, For if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen. ANTONIO I am th' unhappy subject of these quarrels. PORTIA Sir, grieve not you. You are welcome notwithstanding. BASSANIO Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong, And in the hearing of these many friends I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, Wherein I see myself-- PORTIA 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. BASSANIO Nay, but hear me. Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear I never more will break an oath with thee. ANTONIO I once did lend my body for his wealth, Which but for him that had your husband's ring Had quite miscarried. I dare be bound again, My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord Will never more break faith advisedly. PORTIA Then you shall be his surety. Give him this, [Giving Antonio a ring.] And bid him keep it better than the other. ANTONIO Here, Lord Bassanio, swear to keep this ring. BASSANIO By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor! PORTIA I had it of him. Pardon me, Bassanio, For by this ring, the doctor lay with me. NERISSA And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano, For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk, In lieu of this, last night did lie with me. [She shows a ring.] GRATIANO 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? PORTIA Speak not so grossly.--You are all amazed. [She hands a paper to Bassanio.] Here is a letter; read it at your leisure. It comes from Padua from Bellario. There you shall find that Portia was the doctor, Nerissa there, her clerk. Lorenzo here Shall witness I set forth as soon as you, And even but now returned. I have not yet Entered my house.--Antonio, you are welcome, And I have better news in store for you Than you expect. Unseal this letter soon. [Handing him a paper.] There you shall find three of your argosies Are richly come to harbor suddenly. You shall not know by what strange accident I chanced on this letter. ANTONIO I am dumb. BASSANIO Were you the doctor and I knew you not? GRATIANO Were you the clerk that is to make me cuckold? NERISSA Ay, but the clerk that never means to do it, Unless he live until he be a man. BASSANIO, [to Portia] Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow. When I am absent, then lie with my wife. ANTONIO Sweet lady, you have given me life and living; For here I read for certain that my ships Are safely come to road. PORTIA How now, Lorenzo? My clerk hath some good comforts too for you. NERISSA Ay, and I'll give them him without a fee. [Handing him a paper.] There do I give to you and Jessica, From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, After his death, of all he dies possessed of. LORENZO Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way Of starved people. PORTIA 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. GRATIANO Let it be so. The first inter'gatory 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 Till 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. [They exit.]

The Merry Wives of Windsor by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== MISTRESS FORD FORD, her husband Their servants: JOHN ROBERT MISTRESS PAGE PAGE, her husband ANNE, their daughter WILLIAM, their son DOCTOR CAIUS, a French doctor, suitor to Anne Page MISTRESS QUICKLY, the doctor's housekeeper JOHN RUGBY, the doctor's manservant SIR HUGH Evans, a Welsh parson HOST of the Garter Inn Windsor Children, disguised as fairies Sir John FALSTAFF, an impoverished knight Falstaff's servants: ROBIN, his page BARDOLPH PISTOL NYM FENTON, a gentleman, suitor to Anne Page Robert SHALLOW, a visiting justice of the peace Abraham SLENDER, his nephew, a young gentleman suitor to Anne Page SIMPLE, Slender's servant ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Justice Shallow, Slender, and Sir Hugh Evans.] SHALLOW Sir Hugh, persuade me not. I will make a Star-Chamber matter of it. If he were twenty Sir John Falstaffs, he shall not abuse Robert Shallow, Esquire. SLENDER In the county of Gloucester, Justice of Peace and Coram. SHALLOW Ay, Cousin Slender, and Custalorum. SLENDER Ay, and Ratolorum too; and a gentleman born, Master Parson, who writes himself "Armigero" in any bill, warrant, quittance, or obligation-- "Armigero!" SHALLOW Ay, that I do, and have done any time these three hundred years. SLENDER All his successors gone before him hath done 't, and all his ancestors that come after him may. They may give the dozen white luces in their coat. SHALLOW It is an old coat. SIR HUGH The dozen white louses do become an old coat well. It agrees well, passant. It is a familiar beast to man and signifies love. SHALLOW The luce is the fresh fish. The salt fish is an old coat. SLENDER I may quarter, coz. SHALLOW You may, by marrying. SIR HUGH It is marring indeed, if he quarter it. SHALLOW Not a whit. SIR HUGH Yes, py 'r Lady. If he has a quarter of your coat, there is but three skirts for yourself, in my simple conjectures. But that is all one. If Sir John Falstaff have committed disparagements unto you, I am of the Church, and will be glad to do my benevolence to make atonements and compromises between you. SHALLOW The Council shall hear it; it is a riot. SIR HUGH It is not meet the Council hear a riot. There is no fear of Got in a riot. The Council, look you, shall desire to hear the fear of Got, and not to hear a riot. Take your visaments in that. SHALLOW Ha! O' my life, if I were young again, the sword should end it. SIR HUGH It is petter that friends is the sword, and end it. And there is also another device in my prain, which peradventure prings goot discretions with it. There is Anne Page, which is daughter to Master Thomas Page, which is pretty virginity. SLENDER Mistress Anne Page? She has brown hair and speaks small like a woman? SIR HUGH It is that fery person for all the 'orld, as just as you will desire. And seven hundred pounds of moneys, and gold, and silver, is her grandsire upon his death's-bed (Got deliver to a joyful resurrections!) give, when she is able to overtake seventeen years old. It were a goot motion if we leave our pribbles and prabbles, and desire a marriage between Master Abraham and Mistress Anne Page. SLENDER Did her grandsire leave her seven hundred pound? SIR HUGH Ay, and her father is make her a petter penny. SLENDER I know the young gentlewoman. She has good gifts. SIR HUGH Seven hundred pounds and possibilities is goot gifts. SHALLOW Well, let us see honest Master Page. Is Falstaff there? SIR HUGH Shall I tell you a lie? I do despise a liar as I do despise one that is false, or as I despise one that is not true. The knight Sir John is there, and I beseech you be ruled by your well-willers. I will peat the door for Master Page. [He knocks.] What ho? Got pless your house here. PAGE, [within] Who's there? SIR HUGH Here is Got's plessing, and your friend, and Justice Shallow, and here young Master Slender, that peradventures shall tell you another tale, if matters grow to your likings. [Enter Master Page.] PAGE I am glad to see your Worships well. I thank you for my venison, Master Shallow. SHALLOW Master Page, I am glad to see you. Much good do it your good heart! I wished your venison better; it was ill killed. How doth good Mistress Page? And I thank you always with my heart, la, with my heart. PAGE Sir, I thank you. SHALLOW Sir, I thank you; by yea and no, I do. PAGE I am glad to see you, good Master Slender. SLENDER How does your fallow greyhound, sir? I heard say he was outrun on Cotsall. PAGE It could not be judged, sir. SLENDER You'll not confess, you'll not confess. SHALLOW That he will not. 'Tis your fault, 'tis your fault. 'Tis a good dog. PAGE A cur, sir. SHALLOW Sir, he's a good dog and a fair dog. Can there be more said? He is good and fair. Is Sir John Falstaff here? PAGE Sir, he is within, and I would I could do a good office between you. SIR HUGH It is spoke as a Christians ought to speak. SHALLOW He hath wronged me, Master Page. PAGE Sir, he doth in some sort confess it. SHALLOW If it be confessed, it is not redressed. Is not that so, Master Page? He hath wronged me, indeed he hath; at a word, he hath. Believe me. Robert Shallow, Esquire, saith he is wronged. [Enter Sir John Falstaff, Bardolph, Nym, and Pistol.] PAGE Here comes Sir John. FALSTAFF Now, Master Shallow, you'll complain of me to the King? SHALLOW Knight, you have beaten my men, killed my deer, and broke open my lodge. FALSTAFF But not kissed your keeper's daughter. SHALLOW Tut, a pin. This shall be answered. FALSTAFF I will answer it straight: I have done all this. That is now answered. SHALLOW The Council shall know this. FALSTAFF 'Twere better for you if it were known in counsel. You'll be laughed at. SIR HUGH Pauca verba, Sir John, good worts. FALSTAFF Good worts? Good cabbage!--Slender, I broke your head. What matter have you against me? SLENDER Marry, sir, I have matter in my head against you and against your cony-catching rascals, Bardolph, Nym, and Pistol. BARDOLPH You Banbury cheese! SLENDER Ay, it is no matter. PISTOL How now, Mephostophilus? SLENDER Ay, it is no matter. NYM Slice, I say! Pauca, pauca. Slice, that's my humor. SLENDER, [to Shallow] Where's Simple, my man? Can you tell, cousin? SIR HUGH Peace, I pray you. Now let us understand; there is three umpires in this matter, as I understand: that is, Master Page (fidelicet Master Page); and there is myself (fidelicet myself); and the three party is, lastly and finally, mine Host of the Garter. PAGE We three to hear it and end it between them. SIR HUGH Fery goot. I will make a prief of it in my notebook, and we will afterwards 'ork upon the cause with as great discreetly as we can. FALSTAFF Pistol. PISTOL He hears with ears. SIR HUGH The tevil and his tam! What phrase is this, "He hears with ear"? Why, it is affectations. FALSTAFF Pistol, did you pick Master Slender's purse? SLENDER Ay, by these gloves, did he--or I would I might never come in mine own great chamber again else--of seven groats in mill-sixpences, and two Edward shovel-boards that cost me two shilling and twopence apiece of Yed Miller, by these gloves. FALSTAFF Is this true, Pistol? SIR HUGH No, it is false, if it is a pickpurse. PISTOL Ha, thou mountain foreigner!--Sir John and master mine, I combat challenge of this latten bilbo.--Word of denial in thy labras here! Word of denial! Froth and scum, thou liest. SLENDER, [indicating Nym] By these gloves, then 'twas he. NYM Be avised, sir, and pass good humors. I will say "marry trap with you" if you run the nuthook's humor on me. That is the very note of it. SLENDER By this hat, then, he in the red face had it. For, though I cannot remember what I did when you made me drunk, yet I am not altogether an ass. FALSTAFF What say you, Scarlet and John? BARDOLPH Why, sir, for my part, I say the gentleman had drunk himself out of his five sentences. SIR HUGH It is "his five senses." Fie, what the ignorance is! BARDOLPH, [to Falstaff] And being fap, sir, was, as they say, cashiered. And so conclusions passed the careers. SLENDER Ay, you spake in Latin then too. But 'tis no matter. I'll ne'er be drunk whilst I live again but in honest, civil, godly company, for this trick. If I be drunk, I'll be drunk with those that have the fear of God, and not with drunken knaves. SIR HUGH So Got 'udge me, that is a virtuous mind. FALSTAFF You hear all these matters denied, gentlemen. You hear it. [Enter Anne Page with wine.] PAGE Nay, daughter, carry the wine in. We'll drink within. [Anne Page exits.] SLENDER O heaven, this is Mistress Anne Page. [Enter Mistress Ford and Mistress Page.] PAGE How now, Mistress Ford? FALSTAFF Mistress Ford, by my troth, you are very well met. By your leave, good mistress. [He kisses her.] PAGE Wife, bid these gentlemen welcome.--Come, we have a hot venison pasty to dinner. Come, gentlemen, I hope we shall drink down all unkindness. [All but Slender, Shallow, and Sir Hugh exit.] SLENDER I had rather than forty shillings I had my book of Songs and Sonnets here! [Enter Simple.] How now, Simple? Where have you been? I must wait on myself, must I? You have not the Book of Riddles about you, have you? SIMPLE Book of Riddles? Why, did you not lend it to Alice Shortcake upon Allhallowmas last, a fortnight afore Michaelmas? SHALLOW, [to Slender] Come, coz; come, coz. We stay for you. A word with you, coz. Marry, this, coz: there is, as 'twere, a tender, a kind of tender, made afar off by Sir Hugh here. Do you understand me? SLENDER Ay, sir, you shall find me reasonable. If it be so, I shall do that that is reason. SHALLOW Nay, but understand me. SLENDER So I do, sir. SIR HUGH Give ear to his motions, Master Slender. I will description the matter to you, if you be capacity of it. SLENDER Nay, I will do as my cousin Shallow says. I pray you, pardon me. He's a Justice of Peace in his country, simple though I stand here. SIR HUGH But that is not the question. The question is concerning your marriage. SHALLOW Ay, there's the point, sir. SIR HUGH Marry, is it, the very point of it--to Mistress Anne Page. SLENDER Why, if it be so, I will marry her upon any reasonable demands. SIR HUGH But can you affection the 'oman? Let us command to know that of your mouth, or of your lips; for divers philosophers hold that the lips is parcel of the mouth. Therefore, precisely, can you carry your good will to the maid? SHALLOW Cousin Abraham Slender, can you love her? SLENDER I hope, sir, I will do as it shall become one that would do reason. SIR HUGH Nay, Got's lords and His ladies! You must speak positable, if you can carry her your desires towards her. SHALLOW That you must. Will you, upon good dowry, marry her? SLENDER I will do a greater thing than that, upon your request, cousin, in any reason. SHALLOW Nay, conceive me, conceive me, sweet coz. What I do is to pleasure you, coz. Can you love the maid? SLENDER I will marry her, sir, at your request. But if there be no great love in the beginning, yet heaven may decrease it upon better acquaintance, when we are married and have more occasion to know one another. I hope upon familiarity will grow more content. But if you say "Marry her," I will marry her. That I am freely dissolved, and dissolutely. SIR HUGH It is a fery discretion answer, save the fall is in the 'ord "dissolutely." The 'ort is, according to our meaning, "resolutely." His meaning is good. SHALLOW Ay, I think my cousin meant well. SLENDER Ay, or else I would I might be hanged, la! [Enter Anne Page.] SHALLOW Here comes fair Mistress Anne.--Would I were young for your sake, Mistress Anne. ANNE The dinner is on the table. My father desires your Worships' company. SHALLOW I will wait on him, fair Mistress Anne. SIR HUGH 'Od's plessed will, I will not be absence at the grace. [Sir Hugh and Shallow exit.] ANNE, [to Slender] Will 't please your Worship to come in, sir? SLENDER No, I thank you, forsooth, heartily. I am very well. ANNE The dinner attends you, sir. SLENDER I am not ahungry, I thank you, forsooth. [(To Simple.)] Go, sirrah, for all you are my man, go wait upon my cousin Shallow. [(Simple exits.)] A Justice of Peace sometime may be beholding to his friend for a man. I keep but three men and a boy yet, till my mother be dead. But what though? Yet I live like a poor gentleman born. ANNE I may not go in without your Worship. They will not sit till you come. SLENDER I' faith, I'll eat nothing. I thank you as much as though I did. ANNE I pray you, sir, walk in. SLENDER I had rather walk here, I thank you. I bruised my shin th' other day with playing at sword and dagger with a master of fence--three veneys for a dish of stewed prunes--and, by my troth, I cannot abide the smell of hot meat since. Why do your dogs bark so? Be there bears i' th' town? ANNE I think there are, sir. I heard them talked of. SLENDER I love the sport well, but I shall as soon quarrel at it as any man in England. You are afraid if you see the bear loose, are you not? ANNE Ay, indeed, sir. SLENDER That's meat and drink to me, now. I have seen Sackerson loose twenty times, and have taken him by the chain. But, I warrant you, the women have so cried and shrieked at it that it passed. But women, indeed, cannot abide 'em; they are very ill-favored rough things. [Enter Page.] PAGE Come, gentle Master Slender, come. We stay for you. SLENDER I'll eat nothing, I thank you, sir. PAGE By cock and pie, you shall not choose, sir! Come, come. SLENDER Nay, pray you, lead the way. PAGE Come on, sir. SLENDER Mistress Anne, yourself shall go first. ANNE Not I, sir. Pray you, keep on. SLENDER Truly, I will not go first, truly, la! I will not do you that wrong. ANNE I pray you, sir. SLENDER I'll rather be unmannerly than troublesome. You do yourself wrong, indeed, la! [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Sir Hugh Evans and Simple.] SIR HUGH Go your ways, and ask of Doctor Caius' house which is the way. And there dwells one Mistress Quickly, which is in the manner of his nurse, or his dry nurse, or his cook, or his laundry--his washer and his wringer. SIMPLE Well, sir. SIR HUGH Nay, it is petter yet. Give her this letter [(handing him a paper),] for it is a 'oman that altogether's acquaintance with Mistress Anne Page; and the letter is to desire and require her to solicit your master's desires to Mistress Anne Page. I pray you, be gone. I will make an end of my dinner; there's pippins and cheese to come. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Sir John Falstaff, Host, Bardolph, Nym, Pistol, and Robin, Falstaff's Page.] FALSTAFF Mine Host of the Garter! HOST What says my bullyrook? Speak scholarly and wisely. FALSTAFF Truly, mine Host, I must turn away some of my followers. HOST Discard, bully Hercules, cashier. Let them wag; trot, trot. FALSTAFF I sit at ten pounds a week. HOST Thou 'rt an emperor--Caesar, Keiser, and Pheazar. I will entertain Bardolph. He shall draw, he shall tap. Said I well, bully Hector? FALSTAFF Do so, good mine Host. HOST I have spoke. Let him follow.--Let me see thee froth and lime. I am at a word. Follow. [Host exits.] FALSTAFF Bardolph, follow him. A tapster is a good trade. An old cloak makes a new jerkin, a withered servingman a fresh tapster. Go. Adieu. BARDOLPH It is a life that I have desired. I will thrive. PISTOL O base Hungarian wight, wilt thou the spigot wield? [Bardolph exits.] NYM He was gotten in drink. Is not the humor conceited? FALSTAFF I am glad I am so acquit of this tinderbox. His thefts were too open. His filching was like an unskillful singer; he kept not time. NYM The good humor is to steal at a minute's rest. PISTOL "Convey," the wise it call. "Steal"? Foh, a fico for the phrase! FALSTAFF Well, sirs, I am almost out at heels. PISTOL Why, then, let kibes ensue. FALSTAFF There is no remedy. I must cony-catch, I must shift. PISTOL Young ravens must have food. FALSTAFF Which of you know Ford of this town? PISTOL I ken the wight. He is of substance good. FALSTAFF My honest lads, I will tell you what I am about. PISTOL Two yards and more. FALSTAFF No quips now, Pistol. Indeed, I am in the waist two yards about, but I am now about no waste; I am about thrift. Briefly, I do mean to make love to Ford's wife. I spy entertainment in her. She discourses; she carves; she gives the leer of invitation. I can construe the action of her familiar style; and the hardest voice of her behavior, to be Englished rightly, is "I am Sir John Falstaff's." PISTOL, [aside to Nym] He hath studied her will and translated her will--out of honesty into English. NYM, [aside to Pistol] The anchor is deep. Will that humor pass? FALSTAFF Now, the report goes, she has all the rule of her husband's purse. He hath a legion of angels. PISTOL, [aside to Nym] As many devils entertain, and "To her, boy," say I. NYM, [aside to Pistol] The humor rises; it is good. Humor me the angels. FALSTAFF, [showing two papers] I have writ me here a letter to her; and here another to Page's wife, who even now gave me good eyes too, examined my parts with most judicious oeillades. Sometimes the beam of her view gilded my foot, sometimes my portly belly. PISTOL, [aside to Nym] Then did the sun on dunghill shine. NYM, [aside to Pistol] I thank thee for that humor. FALSTAFF O, she did so course o'er my exteriors with such a greedy intention that the appetite of her eye did seem to scorch me up like a burning-glass. Here's another letter to her. She bears the purse too; she is a region in Guiana, all gold and bounty. I will be cheaters to them both, and they shall be exchequers to me; they shall be my East and West Indies, and I will trade to them both. Go bear thou this letter to Mistress Page--and thou this to Mistress Ford. We will thrive, lads, we will thrive. PISTOL Shall I Sir Pandarus of Troy become, And by my side wear steel? Then Lucifer take all! NYM, [to Falstaff] I will run no base humor. Here, take the humor-letter. I will keep the havior of reputation. FALSTAFF, [giving papers to Robin] Hold, sirrah, bear you these letters tightly; Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores.-- Rogues, hence, avaunt, vanish like hailstones, go, Trudge, plod away i' th' hoof, seek shelter, pack! Falstaff will learn the humor of the age: French thrift, you rogues--myself and skirted page. [Falstaff and Robin exit.] PISTOL Let vultures gripe thy guts! For gourd and fullam holds, And high and low beguiles the rich and poor. Tester I'll have in pouch when thou shalt lack, Base Phrygian Turk! NYM I have operations which be humors of revenge. PISTOL Wilt thou revenge? NYM By welkin and her star! PISTOL With wit or steel? NYM With both the humors, I. I will discuss the humor of this love to Ford. PISTOL And I to Page shall eke unfold How Falstaff, varlet vile, His dove will prove, his gold will hold, And his soft couch defile. NYM My humor shall not cool. I will incense Ford to deal with poison. I will possess him with yellowness, for the revolt of mine is dangerous. That is my true humor. PISTOL Thou art the Mars of malcontents. I second thee. Troop on. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Mistress Quickly and Simple.] MISTRESS QUICKLY What, John Rugby! [(Enter John Rugby.)] I pray thee, go to the casement and see if you can see my master, Master Doctor Caius, coming. If he do, i' faith, and find anybody in the house, here will be an old abusing of God's patience and the King's English. RUGBY I'll go watch. MISTRESS QUICKLY Go, and we'll have a posset for 't soon at night, in faith, at the latter end of a seacoal fire. [(Rugby exits.)] An honest, willing, kind fellow as ever servant shall come in house withal; and, I warrant you, no telltale nor no breed-bate. His worst fault is that he is given to prayer. He is something peevish that way, but nobody but has his fault. But let that pass. Peter Simple you say your name is? SIMPLE Ay, for fault of a better. MISTRESS QUICKLY And Master Slender's your master? SIMPLE Ay, forsooth. MISTRESS QUICKLY Does he not wear a great round beard like a glover's paring knife? SIMPLE No, forsooth. He hath but a little wee face, with a little yellow beard, a Cain-colored beard. MISTRESS QUICKLY A softly-sprited man, is he not? SIMPLE Ay, forsooth. But he is as tall a man of his hands as any is between this and his head. He hath fought with a warrener. MISTRESS QUICKLY How say you? O, I should remember him. Does he not hold up his head, as it were, and strut in his gait? SIMPLE Yes, indeed, does he. MISTRESS QUICKLY Well, heaven send Anne Page no worse fortune! Tell Master Parson Evans I will do what I can for your master. Anne is a good girl, and I wish-- [Enter Rugby.] RUGBY Out, alas! Here comes my master. MISTRESS QUICKLY We shall all be shent.--Run in here, good young man. Go into this closet. He will not stay long. [(Simple exits.)] What, John Rugby! John! What, John, I say! Go, John, go enquire for my master. I doubt he be not well, that he comes not home. [Rugby exits.] [(She sings.)] And down, down, adown 'a, etc. [Enter Doctor Caius.] DOCTOR CAIUS Vat is you sing? I do not like dese toys. Pray you, go and vetch me in my closet un boitier vert, a box, a green-a box. Do intend vat I speak? A green-a box. MISTRESS QUICKLY Ay, forsooth. I'll fetch it you. [(Aside.)] I am glad he went not in himself. If he had found the young man, he would have been horn-mad. [She exits.] DOCTOR CAIUS Fe, fe, fe, fe! Ma foi, il fait fort chaud. Je m'en vais a la cour--la grande affaire. [Enter Mistress Quickly with a small box.] MISTRESS QUICKLY Is it this, sir? DOCTOR CAIUS Oui, mets-le a mon pocket. Depeche, quickly. Vere is dat knave Rugby? MISTRESS QUICKLY What, John Rugby, John! [Enter Rugby.] RUGBY Here, sir. DOCTOR CAIUS You are John Rugby, and you are Jack Rugby. Come, take-a your rapier, and come after my heel to the court. RUGBY 'Tis ready, sir, here in the porch. DOCTOR CAIUS By my trot, I tarry too long. Od's me! Qu'ai-j'oublie? Dere is some simples in my closet dat I vill not for the varld I shall leave behind. [He exits.] MISTRESS QUICKLY Ay me! He'll find the young man there, and be mad! [Enter Doctor Caius.] DOCTOR CAIUS O diable, diable! Vat is in my closet? Villainy! Larron! [(Pulling out Simple.)] Rugby, my rapier! MISTRESS QUICKLY Good master, be content. DOCTOR CAIUS Wherefore shall I be content-a? MISTRESS QUICKLY The young man is an honest man. DOCTOR CAIUS What shall de honest man do in my closet? Dere is no honest man dat shall come in my closet. MISTRESS QUICKLY I beseech you, be not so phlegmatic. Hear the truth of it. He came of an errand to me from Parson Hugh. DOCTOR CAIUS Vell? SIMPLE Ay, forsooth. To desire her to-- MISTRESS QUICKLY Peace, I pray you. DOCTOR CAIUS Peace-a your tongue.--Speak-a your tale. SIMPLE To desire this honest gentlewoman, your maid, to speak a good word to Mistress Anne Page for my master in the way of marriage. MISTRESS QUICKLY This is all, indeed, la! But I'll ne'er put my finger in the fire, and need not. DOCTOR CAIUS, [to Simple] Sir Hugh send-a you?-- Rugby, baille me some paper.--Tarry you a little-a while. [Rugby brings paper, and Doctor Caius writes.] MISTRESS QUICKLY, [aside to Simple] I am glad he is so quiet. If he had been throughly moved, you should have heard him so loud and so melancholy. But notwithstanding, man, I'll do you your master what good I can. And the very yea and the no is, the French doctor, my master--I may call him my master, look you, for I keep his house, and I wash, wring, brew, bake, scour, dress meat and drink, make the beds, and do all myself-- SIMPLE, [aside to Quickly] 'Tis a great charge to come under one body's hand. MISTRESS QUICKLY, [aside to Simple] Are you advised o' that? You shall find it a great charge. And to be up early and down late. But notwithstanding--to tell you in your ear; I would have no words of it--my master himself is in love with Mistress Anne Page. But notwithstanding that, I know Anne's mind. That's neither here nor there. DOCTOR CAIUS, [handing paper to Simple] You, jack'nape, give-a this letter to Sir Hugh. By gar, it is a shallenge. I will cut his troat in de park, and I will teach a scurvy jackanape priest to meddle or make. You may be gone. It is not good you tarry here.--By gar, I will cut all his two stones. By gar, he shall not have a stone to throw at his dog. [Simple exits.] MISTRESS QUICKLY Alas, he speaks but for his friend. DOCTOR CAIUS It is no matter-a ver dat. Do not you tell-a me dat I shall have Anne Page for myself? By gar, I vill kill de jack priest; and I have appointed mine Host of de Jarteer to measure our weapon. By gar, I will myself have Anne Page. MISTRESS QUICKLY Sir, the maid loves you, and all shall be well. We must give folks leave to prate. What the goodyear! DOCTOR CAIUS Rugby, come to the court with me. [(To Mistress Quickly.)] By gar, if I have not Anne Page, I shall turn your head out of my door.--Follow my heels, Rugby. MISTRESS QUICKLY You shall have Anne-- [Caius and Rugby exit.] fool's head of your own. No, I know Anne's mind for that. Never a woman in Windsor knows more of Anne's mind than I do, nor can do more than I do with her, I thank heaven. FENTON, [within] Who's within there, ho? MISTRESS QUICKLY Who's there, I trow? Come near the house, I pray you. [Enter Fenton.] FENTON How now, good woman? How dost thou? MISTRESS QUICKLY The better that it pleases your good Worship to ask. FENTON What news? How does pretty Mistress Anne? MISTRESS QUICKLY In truth, sir, and she is pretty, and honest, and gentle; and one that is your friend, I can tell you that by the way, I praise heaven for it. FENTON Shall I do any good, think'st thou? Shall I not lose my suit? MISTRESS QUICKLY Troth, sir, all is in His hands above. But notwithstanding, Master Fenton, I'll be sworn on a book she loves you. Have not your Worship a wart above your eye? FENTON Yes, marry, have I. What of that? MISTRESS QUICKLY Well, thereby hangs a tale. Good faith, it is such another Nan! But, I detest, an honest maid as ever broke bread. We had an hour's talk of that wart. I shall never laugh but in that maid's company. But, indeed, she is given too much to allicholy and musing. But, for you,--well, go to. FENTON Well, I shall see her today. Hold, there's money for thee. [(He hands her money.)] Let me have thy voice in my behalf. If thou see'st her before me, commend me. MISTRESS QUICKLY Will I? I' faith, that we will. And I will tell your Worship more of the wart the next time we have confidence, and of other wooers. FENTON Well, farewell. I am in great haste now. MISTRESS QUICKLY Farewell to your Worship. [Fenton exits.] Truly an honest gentleman--but Anne loves him not, for I know Anne's mind as well as another does. Out upon 't! What have I forgot? [She exits.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Mistress Page reading a letter.] MISTRESS PAGE What, have I 'scaped love letters in the holiday time of my beauty, and am I now a subject for them? Let me see. [She reads.] Ask me no reason why I love you, for though Love use Reason for his precisian, he admits him not for his counselor. You are not young; no more am I. Go to, then, there's sympathy. You are merry; so am I. Ha, ha, then, there's more sympathy. You love sack, and so do I. Would you desire better sympathy? Let it suffice thee, Mistress Page--at the least, if the love of soldier can suffice--that I love thee. I will not say pity me--'tis not a soldier-like phrase--but I say love me. By me, Thine own true knight, By day or night, Or any kind of light, With all his might For thee to fight, John Falstaff. What a Herod of Jewry is this! O wicked, wicked world! One that is well-nigh worn to pieces with age, to show himself a young gallant! What an unweighed behavior hath this Flemish drunkard picked--with the devil's name!--out of my conversation, that he dares in this manner assay me? Why, he hath not been thrice in my company! What should I say to him? I was then frugal of my mirth. Heaven forgive me! Why, I'll exhibit a bill in the Parliament for the putting down of men. How shall I be revenged on him? For revenged I will be, as sure as his guts are made of puddings. [Enter Mistress Ford.] MISTRESS FORD Mistress Page! Trust me, I was going to your house. MISTRESS PAGE And, trust me, I was coming to you. You look very ill. MISTRESS FORD Nay, I'll ne'er believe that. I have to show to the contrary. MISTRESS PAGE Faith, but you do, in my mind. MISTRESS FORD Well, I do, then. Yet I say I could show you to the contrary. O Mistress Page, give me some counsel. MISTRESS PAGE What's the matter, woman? MISTRESS FORD O woman, if it were not for one trifling respect, I could come to such honor! MISTRESS PAGE Hang the trifle, woman; take the honor. What is it? Dispense with trifles. What is it? MISTRESS FORD If I would but go to hell for an eternal moment or so, I could be knighted. MISTRESS PAGE What, thou liest! Sir Alice Ford? These knights will hack, and so thou shouldst not alter the article of thy gentry. MISTRESS FORD We burn daylight. Here, read, read. Perceive how I might be knighted. [(She gives a paper to Mistress Page, who reads it.)] I shall think the worse of fat men as long as I have an eye to make difference of men's liking. And yet he would not swear; praised women's modesty; and gave such orderly and well-behaved reproof to all uncomeliness that I would have sworn his disposition would have gone to the truth of his words. But they do no more adhere and keep place together than the Hundredth Psalm to the tune of "Greensleeves." What tempest, I trow, threw this whale, with so many tuns of oil in his belly, ashore at Windsor? How shall I be revenged on him? I think the best way were to entertain him with hope till the wicked fire of lust have melted him in his own grease. Did you ever hear the like? MISTRESS PAGE Letter for letter, but that the name of Page and Ford differs! To thy great comfort in this mystery of ill opinions, here's the twin brother of thy letter. [(She gives a paper to Mistress Ford, who reads it.)] But let thine inherit first, for I protest mine never shall. I warrant he hath a thousand of these letters writ with blank space for different names--sure, more--and these are of the second edition. He will print them, out of doubt; for he cares not what he puts into the press, when he would put us two. I had rather be a giantess and lie under Mount Pelion. Well, I will find you twenty lascivious turtles ere one chaste man. MISTRESS FORD Why, this is the very same--the very hand, the very words. What doth he think of us? MISTRESS PAGE Nay, I know not. It makes me almost ready to wrangle with mine own honesty. I'll entertain myself like one that I am not acquainted withal; for, sure, unless he know some strain in me that I know not myself, he would never have boarded me in this fury. MISTRESS FORD "Boarding" call you it? I'll be sure to keep him above deck. MISTRESS PAGE So will I. If he come under my hatches, I'll never to sea again. Let's be revenged on him. Let's appoint him a meeting, give him a show of comfort in his suit, and lead him on with a fine-baited delay till he hath pawned his horses to mine Host of the Garter. MISTRESS FORD Nay, I will consent to act any villainy against him that may not sully the chariness of our honesty. O, that my husband saw this letter! It would give eternal food to his jealousy. MISTRESS PAGE Why, look where he comes, and my good man too. He's as far from jealousy as I am from giving him cause, and that, I hope, is an unmeasurable distance. MISTRESS FORD You are the happier woman. MISTRESS PAGE Let's consult together against this greasy knight. Come hither. [They talk aside.] [Enter Ford with Pistol, and Page with Nym.] FORD Well, I hope it be not so. PISTOL Hope is a curtal dog in some affairs. Sir John affects thy wife. FORD Why, sir, my wife is not young. PISTOL He woos both high and low, both rich and poor, Both young and old, one with another, Ford. He loves the gallimaufry. Ford, perpend. FORD Love my wife? PISTOL With liver burning hot. Prevent, Or go thou like Sir Acteon, he, With Ringwood at thy heels. O, odious is the name! FORD What name, sir? PISTOL The horn, I say. Farewell. Take heed, have open eye, for thieves do foot by night. Take heed, ere summer comes or cuckoo birds do sing.-- Away, Sir Corporal Nym.--Believe it, Page. He speaks sense. [He exits.] FORD, [aside] I will be patient. I will find out this. NYM, [to Page] And this is true. I like not the humor of lying. He hath wronged me in some humors. I should have borne the humored letter to her; but I have a sword, and it shall bite upon my necessity. He loves your wife; there's the short and the long. My name is Corporal Nym. I speak and I avouch. 'Tis true. My name is Nym, and Falstaff loves your wife. Adieu. I love not the humor of bread and cheese. Adieu. [He exits.] PAGE, [aside] "The humor of it," quoth he? Here's a fellow frights English out of his wits. FORD, [aside] I will seek out Falstaff. PAGE, [aside] I never heard such a drawling, affecting rogue. FORD, [aside] If I do find it--well. PAGE, [aside] I will not believe such a Cataian, though the priest o' th' town commended him for a true man. FORD, [aside] 'Twas a good sensible fellow--well. [Mistress Page and Mistress Ford come forward.] PAGE, [to Mistress Page] How now, Meg? MISTRESS PAGE Whither go you, George? Hark you. [They talk aside.] MISTRESS FORD, [to Ford] How now, sweet Frank? Why art thou melancholy? FORD I melancholy? I am not melancholy. Get you home. Go. MISTRESS FORD Faith, thou hast some crochets in thy head now.--Will you go, Mistress Page? MISTRESS PAGE Have with you.--You'll come to dinner, George? [(Aside to Mistress Ford.)] Look who comes yonder. [Enter Mistress Quickly.] She shall be our messenger to this paltry knight. MISTRESS FORD Trust me, I thought on her. She'll fit it. MISTRESS PAGE, [to Mistress Quickly] You are come to see my daughter Anne? MISTRESS QUICKLY Ay, forsooth. And, I pray, how does good Mistress Anne? MISTRESS PAGE Go in with us and see. We have an hour's talk with you. [Mistress Page, Mistress Ford, and Mistress Quickly exit.] PAGE How now, Master Ford? FORD You heard what this knave told me, did you not? PAGE Yes, and you heard what the other told me? FORD Do you think there is truth in them? PAGE Hang 'em, slaves! I do not think the knight would offer it. But these that accuse him in his intent towards our wives are a yoke of his discarded men, very rogues, now they be out of service. FORD Were they his men? PAGE Marry, were they. FORD I like it never the better for that. Does he lie at the Garter? PAGE Ay, marry, does he. If he should intend this voyage toward my wife, I would turn her loose to him; and what he gets more of her than sharp words, let it lie on my head. FORD I do not misdoubt my wife, but I would be loath to turn them together. A man may be too confident. I would have nothing lie on my head. I cannot be thus satisfied. [Enter Host.] PAGE Look where my ranting Host of the Garter comes. There is either liquor in his pate or money in his purse when he looks so merrily.--How now, mine Host? HOST How now, bullyrook? Thou 'rt a gentleman.-- Cavaleiro Justice, I say! [Enter Shallow.] SHALLOW I follow, mine Host, I follow.--Good even and twenty, good Master Page. Master Page, will you go with us? We have sport in hand. HOST Tell him, Cavaleiro Justice; tell him, bullyrook. SHALLOW Sir, there is a fray to be fought between Sir Hugh the Welsh priest and Caius the French doctor. FORD Good mine Host o' th' Garter, a word with you. HOST What say'st thou, my bullyrook? [The Host and Ford talk aside.] SHALLOW, [to Page] Will you go with us to behold it? My merry Host hath had the measuring of their weapons and, I think, hath appointed them contrary places; for, believe me, I hear the parson is no jester. Hark, I will tell you what our sport shall be. [Shallow and Page talk aside.] HOST, [to Ford] Hast thou no suit against my knight, my guest cavalier? FORD None, I protest. But I'll give you a pottle of burnt sack to give me recourse to him, and tell him my name is Brook--only for a jest. HOST My hand, bully. Thou shalt have egress and regress--said I well?--and thy name shall be Brook. It is a merry knight. [(To Shallow and Page.)] Will you go, ameers? SHALLOW Have with you, mine Host. PAGE I have heard the Frenchman hath good skill in his rapier. SHALLOW Tut, sir, I could have told you more. In these times you stand on distance--your passes, stoccados, and I know not what. 'Tis the heart, Master Page; 'tis here, 'tis here. I have seen the time, with my long sword I would have made you four tall fellows skip like rats. HOST Here, boys, here, here! Shall we wag? PAGE Have with you. I had rather hear them scold than fight. [Page, Host, and Shallow exit.] FORD Though Page be a secure fool and stands so firmly on his wife's frailty, yet I cannot put off my opinion so easily. She was in his company at Page's house, and what they made there I know not. Well, I will look further into 't, and I have a disguise to sound Falstaff. If I find her honest, I lose not my labor. If she be otherwise, 'tis labor well bestowed. [He exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Sir John Falstaff and Pistol.] FALSTAFF I will not lend thee a penny. PISTOL Why then, the world's mine oyster, which I with sword will open. FALSTAFF Not a penny. I have been content, sir, you should lay my countenance to pawn. I have grated upon my good friends for three reprieves for you and your coach-fellow Nym, or else you had looked through the grate like a gemini of baboons. I am damned in hell for swearing to gentlemen my friends you were good soldiers and tall fellows. And when Mistress Bridget lost the handle of her fan, I took 't upon mine honor thou hadst it not. PISTOL Didst not thou share? Hadst thou not fifteen pence? FALSTAFF Reason, you rogue, reason. Think'st thou I'll endanger my soul gratis? At a word, hang no more about me. I am no gibbet for you. Go--a short knife and a throng--to your manor of Pickt-hatch, go. You'll not bear a letter for me, you rogue? You stand upon your honor? Why, thou unconfinable baseness, it is as much as I can do to keep the terms of my honor precise. Ay, ay, I myself sometimes, leaving the fear of God on the left hand and hiding mine honor in my necessity, am fain to shuffle, to hedge, and to lurch; and yet you, rogue, will ensconce your rags, your cat-a-mountain looks, your red-lattice phrases, and your bold beating oaths under the shelter of your honor! You will not do it? You? PISTOL I do relent. What would thou more of man? [Enter Robin.] ROBIN Sir, here's a woman would speak with you. FALSTAFF Let her approach. [Enter Mistress Quickly.] MISTRESS QUICKLY Give your Worship good morrow. FALSTAFF Good morrow, goodwife. MISTRESS QUICKLY Not so, an 't please your Worship. FALSTAFF Good maid, then. MISTRESS QUICKLY I'll be sworn--as my mother was, the first hour I was born. FALSTAFF I do believe the swearer. What with me? MISTRESS QUICKLY Shall I vouchsafe your Worship a word or two? FALSTAFF Two thousand, fair woman, and I'll vouchsafe thee the hearing. MISTRESS QUICKLY There is one Mistress Ford, sir--I pray, come a little nearer this ways. I myself dwell with Master Doctor Caius. FALSTAFF Well, on. "Mistress Ford," you say-- MISTRESS QUICKLY Your Worship says very true. I pray your Worship, come a little nearer this ways. FALSTAFF I warrant thee, nobody hears. Mine own people, mine own people. MISTRESS QUICKLY Are they so? God bless them and make them His servants! FALSTAFF Well, "Mistress Ford"--what of her? MISTRESS QUICKLY Why, sir, she's a good creature. Lord, Lord, your Worship's a wanton! Well, heaven forgive you and all of us, I pray! FALSTAFF "Mistress Ford"--come, "Mistress Ford"-- MISTRESS QUICKLY Marry, this is the short and the long of it: you have brought her into such a canaries as 'tis wonderful. The best courtier of them all, when the court lay at Windsor, could never have brought her to such a canary. Yet there has been knights, and lords, and gentlemen, with their coaches, I warrant you, coach after coach, letter after letter, gift after gift, smelling so sweetly--all musk--and so rushling, I warrant you, in silk and gold, and in such alligant terms, and in such wine and sugar of the best and the fairest, that would have won any woman's heart; and, I warrant you, they could never get an eye-wink of her. I had myself twenty angels given me this morning, but I defy all angels in any such sort, as they say, but in the way of honesty. And, I warrant you, they could never get her so much as sip on a cup with the proudest of them all. And yet there has been earls--nay, which is more, pensioners--but, I warrant you, all is one with her. FALSTAFF But what says she to me? Be brief, my good she-Mercury. MISTRESS QUICKLY Marry, she hath received your letter, for the which she thanks you a thousand times, and she gives you to notify that her husband will be absence from his house between ten and eleven. FALSTAFF Ten and eleven? MISTRESS QUICKLY Ay, forsooth; and then you may come and see the picture, she says, that you wot of. Master Ford, her husband, will be from home. Alas, the sweet woman leads an ill life with him. He's a very jealousy man. She leads a very frampold life with him, good heart. FALSTAFF Ten and eleven. Woman, commend me to her. I will not fail her. MISTRESS QUICKLY Why, you say well. But I have another messenger to your Worship. Mistress Page hath her hearty commendations to you too; and, let me tell you in your ear, she's as fartuous a civil modest wife, and one, I tell you, that will not miss you morning nor evening prayer, as any is in Windsor, whoe'er be the other. And she bade me tell your Worship that her husband is seldom from home, but she hopes there will come a time. I never knew a woman so dote upon a man. Surely, I think you have charms, la! Yes, in truth. FALSTAFF Not I, I assure thee. Setting the attraction of my good parts aside, I have no other charms. MISTRESS QUICKLY Blessing on your heart for 't! FALSTAFF But I pray thee, tell me this: has Ford's wife and Page's wife acquainted each other how they love me? MISTRESS QUICKLY That were a jest indeed! They have not so little grace, I hope. That were a trick indeed! But Mistress Page would desire you to send her your little page, of all loves. Her husband has a marvelous infection to the little page; and, truly, Master Page is an honest man. Never a wife in Windsor leads a better life than she does. Do what she will, say what she will, take all, pay all, go to bed when she list, rise when she list--all is as she will. And, truly, she deserves it, for if there be a kind woman in Windsor, she is one. You must send her your page, no remedy. FALSTAFF Why, I will. MISTRESS QUICKLY Nay, but do so then, and, look you, he may come and go between you both. And in any case have a nayword, that you may know one another's mind, and the boy never need to understand anything; for 'tis not good that children should know any wickedness. Old folks, you know, have discretion, as they say, and know the world. FALSTAFF Fare thee well. Commend me to them both. There's my purse. [(He gives her money.)] I am yet thy debtor.--Boy, go along with this woman. [(Mistress Quickly and Robin exit.)] This news distracts me. PISTOL, [aside] This punk is one of Cupid's carriers. Clap on more sails, pursue; up with your fights; Give fire! She is my prize, or ocean whelm them all! [He exits.] FALSTAFF Sayst thou so, old Jack? Go thy ways. I'll make more of thy old body than I have done. Will they yet look after thee? Wilt thou, after the expense of so much money, be now a gainer? Good body, I thank thee. Let them say 'tis grossly done; so it be fairly done, no matter. [Enter Bardolph with wine.] BARDOLPH Sir John, there's one Master Brook below would fain speak with you and be acquainted with you, and hath sent your Worship a morning's draught of sack. [(He hands Falstaff the wine.)] FALSTAFF Brook is his name? BARDOLPH Ay, sir. FALSTAFF Call him in. Such Brooks are welcome to me that o'erflows such liquor. [(Bardolph exits.)] Ah ha, Mistress Ford and Mistress Page, have I encompassed you? Go to. Via! [Enter Bardolph with Ford disguised as Brook.] FORD, [as Brook] God bless you, sir. FALSTAFF And you, sir. Would you speak with me? FORD, [as Brook] I make bold to press with so little preparation upon you. FALSTAFF You're welcome. What's your will?--Give us leave, drawer. [Bardolph exits.] FORD, [as Brook] Sir, I am a gentleman that have spent much. My name is Brook. FALSTAFF Good Master Brook, I desire more acquaintance of you. FORD, [as Brook] Good Sir John, I sue for yours--not to charge you, for I must let you understand I think myself in better plight for a lender than you are, the which hath something emboldened me to this unseasoned intrusion; for they say, if money go before, all ways do lie open. FALSTAFF Money is a good soldier, sir, and will on. FORD, [as Brook] Troth, and I have a bag of money here troubles me. [He sets it down.] If you will help to bear it, Sir John, take all, or half, for easing me of the carriage. FALSTAFF Sir, I know not how I may deserve to be your porter. FORD, [as Brook] I will tell you, sir, if you will give me the hearing. FALSTAFF Speak, good Master Brook. I shall be glad to be your servant. FORD, [as Brook] Sir, I hear you are a scholar--I will be brief with you--and you have been a man long known to me, though I had never so good means as desire to make myself acquainted with you. I shall discover a thing to you wherein I must very much lay open mine own imperfection. But, good Sir John, as you have one eye upon my follies, as you hear them unfolded, turn another into the register of your own, that I may pass with a reproof the easier, sith you yourself know how easy it is to be such an offender. FALSTAFF Very well, sir. Proceed. FORD, [as Brook] There is a gentlewoman in this town--her husband's name is Ford. FALSTAFF Well, sir. FORD, [as Brook] I have long loved her and, I protest to you, bestowed much on her, followed her with a doting observance, engrossed opportunities to meet her, fee'd every slight occasion that could but niggardly give me sight of her, not only bought many presents to give her, but have given largely to many to know what she would have given. Briefly, I have pursued her as love hath pursued me, which hath been on the wing of all occasions. But whatsoever I have merited, either in my mind or in my means, meed I am sure I have received none, unless experience be a jewel. That I have purchased at an infinite rate, and that hath taught me to say this: "Love like a shadow flies when substance love pursues, Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pursues." FALSTAFF Have you received no promise of satisfaction at her hands? FORD, [as Brook] Never. FALSTAFF Have you importuned her to such a purpose? FORD, [as Brook] Never. FALSTAFF Of what quality was your love, then? FORD, [as Brook] Like a fair house built on another man's ground, so that I have lost my edifice by mistaking the place where I erected it. FALSTAFF To what purpose have you unfolded this to me? FORD, [as Brook] When I have told you that, I have told you all. Some say that though she appear honest to me, yet in other places she enlargeth her mirth so far that there is shrewd construction made of her. Now, Sir John, here is the heart of my purpose: you are a gentleman of excellent breeding, admirable discourse, of great admittance, authentic in your place and person, generally allowed for your many warlike, courtlike, and learned preparations. FALSTAFF O, sir! FORD, [as Brook] Believe it, for you know it. There is money. [(He points to the bag.)] Spend it, spend it, spend more; spend all I have. Only give me so much of your time in exchange of it as to lay an amiable siege to the honesty of this Ford's wife. Use your art of wooing; win her to consent to you. If any man may, you may as soon as any. FALSTAFF Would it apply well to the vehemency of your affection that I should win what you would enjoy? Methinks you prescribe to yourself very preposterously. FORD, [as Brook] O, understand my drift. She dwells so securely on the excellency of her honor that the folly of my soul dares not present itself; she is too bright to be looked against. Now, could I come to her with any detection in my hand, my desires had instance and argument to commend themselves. I could drive her then from the ward of her purity, her reputation, her marriage vow, and a thousand other her defenses, which now are too too strongly embattled against me. What say you to 't, Sir John? FALSTAFF, [taking the bag] Master Brook, I will first make bold with your money; next, give me your hand; and, last, as I am a gentleman, you shall, if you will, enjoy Ford's wife. FORD, [as Brook] O, good sir! FALSTAFF I say you shall. FORD, [as Brook] Want no money, Sir John; you shall want none. FALSTAFF Want no Mistress Ford, Master Brook; you shall want none. I shall be with her, I may tell you, by her own appointment. Even as you came in to me, her assistant or go-between parted from me. I say I shall be with her between ten and eleven, for at that time the jealous, rascally knave her husband will be forth. Come you to me at night. You shall know how I speed. FORD, [as Brook] I am blessed in your acquaintance. Do you know Ford, sir? FALSTAFF Hang him, poor cuckoldly knave! I know him not. Yet I wrong him to call him poor. They say the jealous wittolly knave hath masses of money, for the which his wife seems to me well-favored. I will use her as the key of the cuckoldly rogue's coffer, and there's my harvest home. FORD, [as Brook] I would you knew Ford, sir, that you might avoid him if you saw him. FALSTAFF Hang him, mechanical salt-butter rogue! I will stare him out of his wits. I will awe him with my cudgel; it shall hang like a meteor o'er the cuckold's horns. Master Brook, thou shalt know I will predominate over the peasant, and thou shalt lie with his wife. Come to me soon at night. Ford's a knave, and I will aggravate his style. Thou, Master Brook, shalt know him for knave and cuckold. Come to me soon at night. [Falstaff exits.] FORD What a damned epicurean rascal is this! My heart is ready to crack with impatience. Who says this is improvident jealousy? My wife hath sent to him, the hour is fixed, the match is made. Would any man have thought this? See the hell of having a false woman: my bed shall be abused, my coffers ransacked, my reputation gnawn at. And I shall not only receive this villainous wrong but stand under the adoption of abominable terms, and by him that does me this wrong. Terms, names! "Amaimon" sounds well, "Lucifer" well, "Barbason" well; yet they are devils' additions, the names of fiends. But "Cuckold," "Wittoll," "Cuckold"! The devil himself hath not such a name. Page is an ass, a secure ass. He will trust his wife, he will not be jealous. I will rather trust a Fleming with my butter, Parson Hugh the Welshman with my cheese, an Irishman with my aquavitae bottle, or a thief to walk my ambling gelding, than my wife with herself. Then she plots, then she ruminates, then she devises; and what they think in their hearts they may effect, they will break their hearts but they will effect. God be praised for my jealousy! Eleven o'clock the hour. I will prevent this, detect my wife, be revenged on Falstaff, and laugh at Page. I will about it. Better three hours too soon than a minute too late. Fie, fie, fie! Cuckold, cuckold, cuckold! [He exits.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Doctor Caius and Rugby.] DOCTOR CAIUS Jack Rugby. RUGBY Sir? DOCTOR CAIUS Vat is the clock, Jack? RUGBY 'Tis past the hour, sir, that Sir Hugh promised to meet. DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, he has save his soul dat he is no come. He has pray his Pible well dat he is no come. By gar, Jack Rugby, he is dead already if he be come. RUGBY He is wise, sir. He knew your Worship would kill him if he came. DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, de herring is no dead so as I vill kill him. Take your rapier, Jack. I vill tell you how I vill kill him. RUGBY Alas, sir, I cannot fence. DOCTOR CAIUS Villainy, take your rapier. RUGBY Forbear. Here's company. [Enter Page, Shallow, Slender, and Host.] HOST God bless thee, bully doctor! SHALLOW God save you, Master Doctor Caius! PAGE Now, good Master Doctor! SLENDER Give you good morrow, sir. DOCTOR CAIUS Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four, come for? HOST To see thee fight, to see thee foin, to see thee traverse; to see thee here, to see thee there; to see thy pass, thy puncto, thy stock, thy reverse, thy distance, thy montant. Is he dead, my Ethiopian? Is he dead, my Francisco? Ha, bully? What says my Aesculapius, my Galien, my heart of elder, ha? Is he dead, bully stale? Is he dead? DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, he is de coward jack-priest of de vorld. He is not show his face. HOST Thou art a Castalion King Urinal Hector of Greece, my boy! DOCTOR CAIUS I pray you, bear witness that me have stay six or seven, two, tree hours for him, and he is no come. SHALLOW He is the wiser man, Master Doctor. He is a curer of souls, and you a curer of bodies. If you should fight, you go against the hair of your professions.-- Is it not true, Master Page? PAGE Master Shallow, you have yourself been a great fighter, though now a man of peace. SHALLOW Bodykins, Master Page, though I now be old and of the peace, if I see a sword out, my finger itches to make one. Though we are justices and doctors and churchmen, Master Page, we have some salt of our youth in us. We are the sons of women, Master Page. PAGE 'Tis true, Master Shallow. SHALLOW It will be found so, Master Page.--Master Doctor Caius, I am come to fetch you home. I am sworn of the peace. You have showed yourself a wise physician, and Sir Hugh hath shown himself a wise and patient churchman. You must go with me, Master Doctor. HOST Pardon, guest Justice. [(To Caius.)] A word, Monsieur Mockwater. DOCTOR CAIUS "Mockvater"? Vat is dat? HOST "Mockwater," in our English tongue, is "valor," bully. DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, then I have as much mockvater as de Englishman. Scurvy jack-dog priest! By gar, me vill cut his ears. HOST He will clapper-claw thee tightly, bully. DOCTOR CAIUS "Clapper-de-claw"? Vat is dat? HOST That is, he will make thee amends. DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, me do look he shall clapper-de-claw me, for, by gar, me vill have it. HOST And I will provoke him to 't, or let him wag. DOCTOR CAIUS Me tank you for dat. HOST And moreover, bully--[(He draws Shallow, Page, and Slender aside.)] But first, Master guest, and Master Page, and eke Cavaleiro Slender, go you through the town to Frogmore. PAGE Sir Hugh is there, is he? HOST He is there. See what humor he is in; and I will bring the doctor about by the fields. Will it do well? SHALLOW We will do it. PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER Adieu, good Master Doctor. [Page, Shallow, and Slender exit.] DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, me vill kill de priest, for he speak for a jackanape to Anne Page. HOST Let him die. Sheathe thy impatience; throw cold water on thy choler. Go about the fields with me through Frogmore. I will bring thee where Mistress Anne Page is, at a farmhouse a-feasting, and thou shalt woo her. Cried game! Said I well? DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, me dank you vor dat. By gar, I love you, and I shall procure-a you de good guest: de earl, de knight, de lords, de gentlemen, my patients. HOST For the which I will be thy adversary toward Anne Page. Said I well? DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, 'tis good. Vell said. HOST Let us wag, then. DOCTOR CAIUS Come at my heels, Jack Rugby. [They exit.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Sir Hugh Evans (with a book and a sword) and Simple (carrying Sir Hugh's gown).] SIR HUGH I pray you now, good Master Slender's servingman and friend Simple by your name, which way have you looked for Master Caius, that calls himself doctor of physic? SIMPLE Marry, sir, the Petty-ward, the Park-ward, every way; Old Windsor way, and every way but the town way. SIR HUGH I most fehemently desire you, you will also look that way. SIMPLE I will, sir. [He exits.] SIR HUGH Pless my soul, how full of cholers I am, and trempling of mind! I shall be glad if he have deceived me. How melancholies I am! I will knog his urinals about his knave's costard when I have good opportunities for the 'ork. Pless my soul! [Sings.] To shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sings madrigals. There will we make our peds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies. To shallow-- Mercy on me, I have a great dispositions to cry. [Sings.] Melodious birds sing madrigals-- Whenas I sat in Pabylon-- And a thousand vagram posies. To shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sings madrigals. [Enter Simple.] SIMPLE Yonder he is, coming this way, Sir Hugh. SIR HUGH He's welcome. [Sings.] To shallow rivers, to whose falls-- Heaven prosper the right! What weapons is he? SIMPLE No weapons, sir. There comes my master, Master Shallow, and another gentleman, from Frogmore, over the stile, this way. SIR HUGH Pray you, give me my gown--or else keep it in your arms. [Enter Page, Shallow, and Slender.] SHALLOW How now, Master Parson? Good morrow, good Sir Hugh. Keep a gamester from the dice, and a good student from his book, and it is wonderful. SLENDER, [aside] Ah, sweet Anne Page! PAGE God save you, good Sir Hugh! SIR HUGH God pless you from His mercy sake, all of you! SHALLOW What, the sword and the word? Do you study them both, Master Parson? PAGE And youthful still--in your doublet and hose this raw rheumatic day? SIR HUGH There is reasons and causes for it. PAGE We are come to you to do a good office, Master Parson. SIR HUGH Fery well. What is it? PAGE Yonder is a most reverend gentleman who, belike having received wrong by some person, is at most odds with his own gravity and patience that ever you saw. SHALLOW I have lived fourscore years and upward. I never heard a man of his place, gravity, and learning so wide of his own respect. SIR HUGH What is he? PAGE I think you know him: Master Doctor Caius, the renowned French physician. SIR HUGH Got's will and His passion of my heart! I had as lief you would tell me of a mess of porridge. PAGE Why? SIR HUGH He has no more knowledge in Hibbocrates and Galen--and he is a knave besides, a cowardly knave as you would desires to be acquainted withal. PAGE, [to Shallow] I warrant you, he's the man should fight with him. SLENDER, [aside] O, sweet Anne Page! SHALLOW It appears so by his weapons. Keep them asunder. Here comes Doctor Caius. [Enter Host, Doctor Caius, and Rugby. Caius and Sir Hugh offer to fight.] PAGE Nay, good Master Parson, keep in your weapon. SHALLOW So do you, good Master Doctor. HOST Disarm them, and let them question. Let them keep their limbs whole and hack our English. [Page and Shallow disarm Caius and Sir Hugh.] DOCTOR CAIUS, [to Sir Hugh] I pray you, let-a me speak a word with your ear. Verefore vill you not meet-a me? SIR HUGH, [aside to Caius] Pray you, use your patience. [(Aloud.)] In good time. DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, you are de coward, de Jack dog, John ape. SIR HUGH, [aside to Caius] Pray you, let us not be laughing-stocks to other men's humors. I desire you in friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends. [(Aloud.)] By Jeshu, I will knog your urinal about your knave's cogscomb. DOCTOR CAIUS Diable! Jack Rugby, mine Host de Jarteer, have I not stay for him to kill him? Have I not, at de place I did appoint? SIR HUGH As I am a Christians soul, now look you, this is the place appointed. I'll be judgment by mine Host of the Garter. HOST Peace, I say, Gallia and Gaul, French and Welsh, soul-curer and body-curer! DOCTOR CAIUS Ay, dat is very good, excellent. HOST Peace, I say! Hear mine Host of the Garter. Am I politic? Am I subtle? Am I a Machiavel? Shall I lose my doctor? No, he gives me the potions and the motions. Shall I lose my parson, my priest, my Sir Hugh? No, he gives me the proverbs and the no-verbs. [(To Caius.)] Give me thy hand, terrestrial; so. [(To Sir Hugh.)] Give me thy hand, celestial; so. Boys of art, I have deceived you both. I have directed you to wrong places. Your hearts are mighty, your skins are whole, and let burnt sack be the issue. [(To Page and Shallow.)] Come, lay their swords to pawn. [(To Caius and Sir Hugh.)] Follow me, lads of peace, follow, follow, follow. [Host exits.] SHALLOW Afore God, a mad Host. Follow, gentlemen, follow. SLENDER, [aside] O, sweet Anne Page! [Shallow, Page, and Slender exit.] DOCTOR CAIUS Ha, do I perceive dat? Have you make-a de sot of us, ha, ha? SIR HUGH This is well! He has made us his vloutingstog. I desire you that we may be friends, and let us knog our prains together to be revenge on this same scall, scurvy, cogging companion, the Host of the Garter. DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, with all my heart. He promise to bring me where is Anne Page. By gar, he deceive me too. SIR HUGH Well, I will smite his noddles. Pray you, follow. [Sir Hugh, Caius, Simple, and Rugby exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Robin followed by Mistress Page.] MISTRESS PAGE Nay, keep your way, little gallant. You were wont to be a follower, but now you are a leader. Whether had you rather--lead mine eyes, or eye your master's heels? ROBIN I had rather, forsooth, go before you like a man than follow him like a dwarf. MISTRESS PAGE O, you are a flattering boy! Now I see you'll be a courtier. [Enter Ford.] FORD Well met, Mistress Page. Whither go you? MISTRESS PAGE Truly, sir, to see your wife. Is she at home? FORD Ay, and as idle as she may hang together, for want of company. I think if your husbands were dead, you two would marry. MISTRESS PAGE Be sure of that--two other husbands. FORD Where had you this pretty weathercock? MISTRESS PAGE I cannot tell what the dickens his name is my husband had him of.--What do you call your knight's name, sirrah? ROBIN Sir John Falstaff. FORD Sir John Falstaff! MISTRESS PAGE He, he. I can never hit on 's name. There is such a league between my goodman and he. Is your wife at home indeed? FORD Indeed, she is. MISTRESS PAGE By your leave, sir. I am sick till I see her. [Mistress Page and Robin exit.] FORD Has Page any brains? Hath he any eyes? Hath he any thinking? Sure they sleep; he hath no use of them. Why, this boy will carry a letter twenty mile as easy as a cannon will shoot point-blank twelve score. He pieces out his wife's inclination. He gives her folly motion and advantage. And now she's going to my wife, and Falstaff's boy with her. A man may hear this shower sing in the wind. And Falstaff's boy with her! Good plots they are laid, and our revolted wives share damnation together. Well, I will take him, then torture my wife, pluck the borrowed veil of modesty from the so-seeming Mistress Page, divulge Page himself for a secure and willful Acteon, and to these violent proceedings all my neighbors shall cry aim. [A clock strikes.] The clock gives me my cue, and my assurance bids me search. There I shall find Falstaff. I shall be rather praised for this than mocked, for it is as positive as the earth is firm that Falstaff is there. I will go. [Enter Page, Shallow, Slender, Host, Sir Hugh Evans, Doctor Caius, and Rugby.] SHALLOW, PAGE, ETC. Well met, Master Ford. FORD Trust me, a good knot. I have good cheer at home, and I pray you all go with me. SHALLOW I must excuse myself, Master Ford. SLENDER And so must I, sir. We have appointed to dine with Mistress Anne, and I would not break with her for more money than I'll speak of. SHALLOW We have lingered about a match between Anne Page and my cousin Slender, and this day we shall have our answer. SLENDER I hope I have your good will, Father Page. PAGE You have, Master Slender. I stand wholly for you.--But my wife, Master Doctor, is for you altogether. DOCTOR CAIUS Ay, be-gar, and de maid is love-a me! My nursh-a Quickly tell me so mush. HOST, [to Page] What say you to young Master Fenton? He capers, he dances, he has eyes of youth, he writes verses, he speaks holiday, he smells April and May. He will carry 't, he will carry 't. 'Tis in his buttons he will carry 't. PAGE Not by my consent, I promise you. The gentleman is of no having. He kept company with the wild Prince and Poins. He is of too high a region; he knows too much. No, he shall not knit a knot in his fortunes with the finger of my substance. If he take her, let him take her simply. The wealth I have waits on my consent, and my consent goes not that way. FORD I beseech you heartily, some of you go home with me to dinner. Besides your cheer, you shall have sport: I will show you a monster. Master Doctor, you shall go.--So shall you, Master Page.-- And you, Sir Hugh. SHALLOW Well, fare you well. We shall have the freer wooing at Master Page's. [Shallow and Slender exit.] DOCTOR CAIUS Go home, John Rugby. I come anon. [Rugby exits.] HOST Farewell, my hearts. I will to my honest knight Falstaff, and drink canary with him. [He exits.] FORD, [aside] I think I shall drink in pipe-wine first with him; I'll make him dance.--Will you go, gentles? PAGE, DOCTOR CAIUS, and SIR HUGH Have with you to see this monster. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Mistress Ford and Mistress Page.] MISTRESS FORD What, John! What, Robert! MISTRESS PAGE Quickly, quickly! Is the buck-basket-- MISTRESS FORD I warrant.--What, Robert, I say! [Enter John and Robert with a large buck-basket.] MISTRESS PAGE Come, come, come. MISTRESS FORD Here, set it down. MISTRESS PAGE Give your men the charge. We must be brief. MISTRESS FORD Marry, as I told you before, John and Robert, be ready here hard by in the brewhouse, and when I suddenly call you, come forth, and without any pause or staggering take this basket on your shoulders. That done, trudge with it in all haste, and carry it among the whitsters in Datchet Mead, and there empty it in the muddy ditch close by the Thames side. MISTRESS PAGE You will do it? MISTRESS FORD I ha' told them over and over. They lack no direction.--Be gone, and come when you are called. [John and Robert exit.] MISTRESS PAGE Here comes little Robin. [Enter Robin.] MISTRESS FORD How now, my eyas-musket? What news with you? ROBIN My master, Sir John, is come in at your back door, Mistress Ford, and requests your company. MISTRESS PAGE You little Jack-a-Lent, have you been true to us? ROBIN Ay, I'll be sworn. My master knows not of your being here and hath threatened to put me into everlasting liberty if I tell you of it, for he swears he'll turn me away. MISTRESS PAGE Thou 'rt a good boy. This secrecy of thine shall be a tailor to thee and shall make thee a new doublet and hose.--I'll go hide me. MISTRESS FORD Do so.--Go tell thy master I am alone. [(Robin exits.)] Mistress Page, remember you your cue. MISTRESS PAGE I warrant thee. If I do not act it, hiss me. [She exits.] MISTRESS FORD Go to, then. We'll use this unwholesome humidity, this gross-wat'ry pumpion. We'll teach him to know turtles from jays. [Enter Sir John Falstaff.] FALSTAFF "Have I caught thee, my heavenly jewel?" Why, now let me die, for I have lived long enough. This is the period of my ambition. O, this blessed hour! MISTRESS FORD O, sweet Sir John! FALSTAFF Mistress Ford, I cannot cog. I cannot prate, Mistress Ford. Now shall I sin in my wish: I would thy husband were dead. I'll speak it before the best lord: I would make thee my lady. MISTRESS FORD I your lady, Sir John? Alas, I should be a pitiful lady. FALSTAFF Let the court of France show me such another. I see how thine eye would emulate the diamond. Thou hast the right arched beauty of the brow that becomes the ship-tire, the tire-valiant, or any tire of Venetian admittance. MISTRESS FORD A plain kerchief, Sir John. My brows become nothing else, nor that well neither. FALSTAFF Thou art a tyrant to say so. Thou wouldst make an absolute courtier, and the firm fixture of thy foot would give an excellent motion to thy gait in a semicircled farthingale. I see what thou wert, if Fortune thy foe were not, Nature thy friend. Come, thou canst not hide it. MISTRESS FORD Believe me, there's no such thing in me. FALSTAFF What made me love thee? Let that persuade thee. There's something extraordinary in thee. Come, I cannot cog and say thou art this and that like a many of these lisping hawthorn buds that come like women in men's apparel and smell like Bucklersbury in simple time. I cannot. But I love thee, none but thee; and thou deserv'st it. MISTRESS FORD Do not betray me, sir. I fear you love Mistress Page. FALSTAFF Thou mightst as well say I love to walk by the Counter gate, which is as hateful to me as the reek of a lime-kiln. MISTRESS FORD Well, heaven knows how I love you, and you shall one day find it. FALSTAFF Keep in that mind. I'll deserve it. MISTRESS FORD Nay, I must tell you, so you do, or else I could not be in that mind. [Enter Robin.] ROBIN Mistress Ford, Mistress Ford! Here's Mistress Page at the door, sweating and blowing and looking wildly, and would needs speak with you presently. FALSTAFF She shall not see me. I will ensconce me behind the arras. MISTRESS FORD Pray you, do so. She's a very tattling woman. [Falstaff stands behind the arras.] [Enter Mistress Page.] What's the matter? How now? MISTRESS PAGE O Mistress Ford, what have you done? You're shamed, you're overthrown, you're undone forever! MISTRESS FORD What's the matter, good Mistress Page? MISTRESS PAGE O well-a-day, Mistress Ford, having an honest man to your husband, to give him such cause of suspicion! MISTRESS FORD What cause of suspicion? MISTRESS PAGE What cause of suspicion? Out upon you! How am I mistook in you! MISTRESS FORD Why, alas, what's the matter? MISTRESS PAGE Your husband's coming hither, woman, with all the officers in Windsor, to search for a gentleman that he says is here now in the house, by your consent, to take an ill advantage of his absence. You are undone. MISTRESS FORD 'Tis not so, I hope. MISTRESS PAGE Pray heaven it be not so, that you have such a man here! But 'tis most certain your husband's coming, with half Windsor at his heels, to search for such a one. I come before to tell you. If you know yourself clear, why, I am glad of it. But if you have a friend here, convey, convey him out. Be not amazed! Call all your senses to you; defend your reputation, or bid farewell to your good life forever. MISTRESS FORD What shall I do? There is a gentleman, my dear friend; and I fear not mine own shame so much as his peril. I had rather than a thousand pound he were out of the house. MISTRESS PAGE For shame! Never stand "you had rather" and "you had rather." Your husband's here at hand. Bethink you of some conveyance. In the house you cannot hide him. O, how have you deceived me! Look, here is a basket. If he be of any reasonable stature, he may creep in here; and throw foul linen upon him, as if it were going to bucking. Or--it is whiting time--send him by your two men to Datchet Mead. MISTRESS FORD He's too big to go in there. What shall I do? [Falstaff comes forward.] FALSTAFF Let me see 't, let me see 't! O, let me see 't! I'll in, I'll in. Follow your friend's counsel. I'll in. MISTRESS PAGE What, Sir John Falstaff? [(Aside to him.)] Are these your letters, knight? FALSTAFF, [aside to Mistress Page] I love thee. Help me away. Let me creep in here. I'll never-- [Falstaff goes into the basket; they cover him with dirty clothes.] MISTRESS PAGE, [to Robin] Help to cover your master, boy.--Call your men, Mistress Ford.--You dissembling knight! [Robin exits.] MISTRESS FORD What, John! Robert! John! [Enter Robert and John.] Go, take up these clothes here quickly. Where's the cowlstaff? Look how you drumble! Carry them to the laundress in Datchet Mead. Quickly! Come. [Enter Ford, Page, Doctor Caius, and Sir Hugh Evans.] FORD Pray you, come near. If I suspect without cause, why then make sport at me. Then let me be your jest; I deserve it.--How now? Whither bear you this? ROBERT and JOHN To the laundress, forsooth. MISTRESS FORD Why, what have you to do whither they bear it? You were best meddle with buck-washing! FORD Buck? I would I could wash myself of the buck. Buck, buck, buck! Ay, buck! I warrant you, buck, and of the season too, it shall appear. [Robert and John exit with the buck-basket.] Gentlemen, I have dreamed tonight; I'll tell you my dream. Here, here, here be my keys. Ascend my chambers. Search, seek, find out. I'll warrant we'll unkennel the fox. Let me stop this way first. [(He locks the door.)] So, now uncape. PAGE Good Master Ford, be contented. You wrong yourself too much. FORD True, Master Page.--Up, gentlemen. You shall see sport anon. Follow me, gentlemen. [He exits.] SIR HUGH This is fery fantastical humors and jealousies. DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, 'tis no the fashion of France. It is not jealous in France. PAGE Nay, follow him, gentlemen. See the issue of his search. [Page, Sir Hugh, and Caius exit.] MISTRESS PAGE Is there not a double excellency in this? MISTRESS FORD I know not which pleases me better-- that my husband is deceived, or Sir John. MISTRESS PAGE What a taking was he in when your husband asked who was in the basket! MISTRESS FORD I am half afraid he will have need of washing, so throwing him into the water will do him a benefit. MISTRESS PAGE Hang him, dishonest rascal! I would all of the same strain were in the same distress. MISTRESS FORD I think my husband hath some special suspicion of Falstaff's being here, for I never saw him so gross in his jealousy till now. MISTRESS PAGE I will lay a plot to try that, and we will yet have more tricks with Falstaff. His dissolute disease will scarce obey this medicine. MISTRESS FORD Shall we send that foolish carrion Mistress Quickly to him, and excuse his throwing into the water, and give him another hope, to betray him to another punishment? MISTRESS PAGE We will do it. Let him be sent for tomorrow eight o'clock to have amends. [Enter Ford, Page, Doctor Caius, and Sir Hugh.] FORD I cannot find him. Maybe the knave bragged of that he could not compass. MISTRESS PAGE, [aside to Mistress Ford] Heard you that? MISTRESS FORD You use me well, Master Ford, do you? FORD Ay, I do so. MISTRESS FORD Heaven make you better than your thoughts! FORD Amen! MISTRESS PAGE You do yourself mighty wrong, Master Ford. FORD Ay, ay. I must bear it. SIR HUGH If there be anypody in the house, and in the chambers, and in the coffers, and in the presses, heaven forgive my sins at the day of judgment! DOCTOR CAIUS Be gar, nor I too. There is nobodies. PAGE Fie, fie, Master Ford, are you not ashamed? What spirit, what devil suggests this imagination? I would not ha' your distemper in this kind for the wealth of Windsor Castle. FORD 'Tis my fault, Master Page. I suffer for it. SIR HUGH You suffer for a pad conscience. Your wife is as honest a 'omans as I will desires among five thousand, and five hundred too. DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, I see 'tis an honest woman. FORD Well, I promised you a dinner. Come, come, walk in the park. I pray you, pardon me. I will hereafter make known to you why I have done this.--Come, wife--come, Mistress Page, I pray you, pardon me. Pray, heartily, pardon me. [Mistress Page and Mistress Ford exit.] PAGE, [to Caius and Sir Hugh] Let's go in, gentlemen. But, trust me, we'll mock him. [(To Ford, Caius, and Sir Hugh.)] I do invite you tomorrow morning to my house to breakfast. After, we'll a-birding together; I have a fine hawk for the bush. Shall it be so? FORD Anything. SIR HUGH If there is one, I shall make two in the company. DOCTOR CAIUS If there be one or two, I shall make-a the turd. FORD Pray you, go, Master Page. [Ford and Page exit.] SIR HUGH I pray you now, remembrance tomorrow on the lousy knave mine Host. DOCTOR CAIUS Dat is good, by gar, with all my heart. SIR HUGH A lousy knave, to have his gibes and his mockeries! [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Fenton and Anne Page.] FENTON I see I cannot get thy father's love; Therefore no more turn me to him, sweet Nan. ANNE Alas, how then? FENTON Why, thou must be thyself. He doth object I am too great of birth, And that, my state being galled with my expense, I seek to heal it only by his wealth. Besides these, other bars he lays before me-- My riots past, my wild societies-- And tells me 'tis a thing impossible I should love thee but as a property. ANNE Maybe he tells you true. FENTON No, heaven so speed me in my time to come! Albeit I will confess thy father's wealth Was the first motive that I wooed thee, Anne, Yet, wooing thee, I found thee of more value Than stamps in gold or sums in sealed bags. And 'tis the very riches of thyself That now I aim at. ANNE Gentle Master Fenton, Yet seek my father's love, still seek it, sir. If opportunity and humblest suit Cannot attain it, why then--hark you hither. [They talk aside.] [Enter Shallow, Slender, and Mistress Quickly.] SHALLOW Break their talk, Mistress Quickly. My kinsman shall speak for himself. SLENDER I'll make a shaft or a bolt on 't. 'Slid, 'tis but venturing. SHALLOW Be not dismayed. SLENDER No, she shall not dismay me. I care not for that, but that I am afeard. MISTRESS QUICKLY, [to Anne] Hark ye, Master Slender would speak a word with you. ANNE I come to him. [(Aside.)] This is my father's choice. O, what a world of vile ill-favored faults Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year! MISTRESS QUICKLY And how does good Master Fenton? Pray you, a word with you. [They talk aside.] SHALLOW, [to Slender] She's coming. To her, coz! O boy, thou hadst a father! SLENDER I had a father, Mistress Anne; my uncle can tell you good jests of him.--Pray you, uncle, tell Mistress Anne the jest how my father stole two geese out of a pen, good uncle. SHALLOW Mistress Anne, my cousin loves you. SLENDER Ay, that I do, as well as I love any woman in Gloucestershire. SHALLOW He will maintain you like a gentlewoman. SLENDER Ay, that I will, come cut and longtail, under the degree of a squire. SHALLOW He will make you a hundred and fifty pounds jointure. ANNE Good Master Shallow, let him woo for himself. SHALLOW Marry, I thank you for it. I thank you for that good comfort.--She calls you, coz. I'll leave you. [He steps aside.] ANNE Now, Master Slender. SLENDER Now, good Mistress Anne. ANNE What is your will? SLENDER My will? 'Od's heartlings, that's a pretty jest indeed! I ne'er made my will yet, I thank heaven. I am not such a sickly creature, I give heaven praise. ANNE I mean, Master Slender, what would you with me? SLENDER Truly, for mine own part, I would little or nothing with you. Your father and my uncle hath made motions. If it be my luck, so; if not, happy man be his dole. They can tell you how things go better than I can. You may ask your father. [Enter Page and Mistress Page.] Here he comes. PAGE Now, Master Slender.--Love him, daughter Anne.-- Why, how now? What does Master Fenton here? You wrong me, sir, thus still to haunt my house. I told you, sir, my daughter is disposed of. FENTON Nay, Master Page, be not impatient. MISTRESS PAGE Good Master Fenton, come not to my child. PAGE She is no match for you. FENTON Sir, will you hear me? PAGE No, good Master Fenton.-- Come Master Shallow.--Come, son Slender, in.-- Knowing my mind, you wrong me, Master Fenton. [Page, Shallow, and Slender exit.] MISTRESS QUICKLY, [to Fenton] Speak to Mistress Page. FENTON Good Mistress Page, for that I love your daughter In such a righteous fashion as I do, Perforce, against all checks, rebukes, and manners, I must advance the colors of my love And not retire. Let me have your good will. ANNE Good mother, do not marry me to yond fool. MISTRESS PAGE I mean it not; I seek you a better husband. MISTRESS QUICKLY That's my master, Master Doctor. ANNE Alas, I had rather be set quick i' th' earth And bowled to death with turnips! MISTRESS PAGE Come, trouble not yourself.--Good Master Fenton, I will not be your friend nor enemy. My daughter will I question how she loves you, And as I find her, so am I affected. Till then, farewell, sir. She must needs go in; Her father will be angry. FENTON Farewell, gentle mistress.--Farewell, Nan. [Mistress Page and Anne Page exit.] MISTRESS QUICKLY This is my doing now. "Nay," said I, "will you cast away your child on a fool and a physician? Look on Master Fenton." This is my doing. FENTON I thank thee; and I pray thee, once tonight Give my sweet Nan this ring. There's for thy pains. [He gives her money and a ring.] MISTRESS QUICKLY Now heaven send thee good fortune. [Fenton exits.] A kind heart he hath. A woman would run through fire and water for such a kind heart. But yet I would my master had Mistress Anne, or I would Master Slender had her, or, in sooth, I would Master Fenton had her. I will do what I can for them all three; for so I have promised and I'll be as good as my word--but speciously for Master Fenton. Well, I must of another errand to Sir John Falstaff from my two mistresses. What a beast am I to slack it! [She exits.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Sir John Falstaff.] FALSTAFF Bardolph, I say! [Enter Bardolph.] BARDOLPH Here, sir. FALSTAFF Go fetch me a quart of sack; put a toast in 't. [Bardolph exits.] Have I lived to be carried in a basket like a barrow of butcher's offal, and to be thrown in the Thames? Well, if I be served such another trick, I'll have my brains ta'en out and buttered, and give them to a dog for a New Year's gift. 'Sblood, the rogues slighted me into the river with as little remorse as they would have drowned a blind bitch's puppies, fifteen i' th' litter! And you may know by my size that I have a kind of alacrity in sinking; if the bottom were as deep as hell, I should down. I had been drowned, but that the shore was shelvy and shallow--a death that I abhor, for the water swells a man, and what a thing should I have been when I had been swelled! By the Lord, I should have been a mountain of mummy. [Enter Bardolph with cups of sack.] BARDOLPH Here's Mistress Quickly, sir, to speak with you. FALSTAFF Come, let me pour in some sack to the Thames water, for my belly's as cold as if I had swallowed snowballs for pills to cool the reins. [He drinks.] Call her in. BARDOLPH Come in, woman. [Enter Mistress Quickly.] MISTRESS QUICKLY By your leave, I cry you mercy. Give your Worship good morrow. FALSTAFF, [to Bardolph] Take away these chalices. Go brew me a pottle of sack finely. BARDOLPH With eggs, sir? FALSTAFF Simple of itself. I'll no pullet sperm in my brewage. [Bardolph exits.] How now? MISTRESS QUICKLY Marry, sir, I come to your Worship from Mistress Ford. FALSTAFF Mistress Ford? I have had ford enough. I was thrown into the ford, I have my belly full of ford. MISTRESS QUICKLY Alas the day, good heart, that was not her fault. She does so take on with her men; they mistook their erection. FALSTAFF So did I mine, to build upon a foolish woman's promise. MISTRESS QUICKLY Well, she laments, sir, for it, that it would yearn your heart to see it. Her husband goes this morning a-birding; she desires you once more to come to her, between eight and nine. I must carry her word quickly. She'll make you amends, I warrant you. FALSTAFF Well, I will visit her. Tell her so. And bid her think what a man is. Let her consider his frailty, and then judge of my merit. MISTRESS QUICKLY I will tell her. FALSTAFF Do so. Between nine and ten, say'st thou? MISTRESS QUICKLY Eight and nine, sir. FALSTAFF Well, be gone. I will not miss her. MISTRESS QUICKLY Peace be with you, sir. [Mistress Quickly exits.] FALSTAFF I marvel I hear not of Master Brook. He sent me word to stay within. I like his money well. [Enter Ford disguised as Brook.] O, here he comes. FORD, [as Brook] God bless you, sir. FALSTAFF Now, Master Brook, you come to know what hath passed between me and Ford's wife. FORD, [as Brook] That indeed, Sir John, is my business. FALSTAFF Master Brook, I will not lie to you. I was at her house the hour she appointed me. FORD, [as Brook] And sped you, sir? FALSTAFF Very ill-favoredly, Master Brook. FORD, [as Brook] How so, sir? Did she change her determination? FALSTAFF No, Master Brook, but the peaking cornuto her husband, Master Brook, dwelling in a continual 'larum of jealousy, comes me in the instant of our encounter, after we had embraced, kissed, protested, and, as it were, spoke the prologue of our comedy, and, at his heels, a rabble of his companions, thither provoked and instigated by his distemper, and, forsooth, to search his house for his wife's love. FORD, [as Brook] What, while you were there? FALSTAFF While I was there. FORD, [as Brook] And did he search for you and could not find you? FALSTAFF You shall hear. As good luck would have it, comes in one Mistress Page, gives intelligence of Ford's approach, and, in her invention and Ford's wife's distraction, they conveyed me into a buck-basket. FORD, [as Brook] A buck-basket! FALSTAFF By the Lord, a buck-basket! Rammed me in with foul shirts and smocks, socks, foul stockings, greasy napkins, that, Master Brook, there was the rankest compound of villainous smell that ever offended nostril. FORD, [as Brook] And how long lay you there? FALSTAFF Nay, you shall hear, Master Brook, what I have suffered to bring this woman to evil for your good. Being thus crammed in the basket, a couple of Ford's knaves, his hinds, were called forth by their mistress to carry me in the name of foul clothes to Datchet Lane. They took me on their shoulders, met the jealous knave their master in the door, who asked them once or twice what they had in their basket. I quaked for fear lest the lunatic knave would have searched it, but fate, ordaining he should be a cuckold, held his hand. Well, on went he for a search, and away went I for foul clothes. But mark the sequel, Master Brook. I suffered the pangs of three several deaths: first, an intolerable fright to be detected with a jealous rotten bellwether; next, to be compassed, like a good bilbo, in the circumference of a peck, hilt to point, heel to head; and then, to be stopped in, like a strong distillation, with stinking clothes that fretted in their own grease. Think of that, a man of my kidney--think of that--that am as subject to heat as butter; a man of continual dissolution and thaw. It was a miracle to 'scape suffocation. And in the height of this bath, when I was more than half-stewed in grease, like a Dutch dish, to be thrown into the Thames and cooled, glowing hot, in that surge, like a horseshoe! Think of that--hissing hot--think of that, Master Brook. FORD, [as Brook] In good sadness, sir, I am sorry that for my sake you have suffered all this. My suit, then, is desperate. You'll undertake her no more? FALSTAFF Master Brook, I will be thrown into Etna, as I have been into Thames, ere I will leave her thus. Her husband is this morning gone a-birding. I have received from her another embassy of meeting. 'Twixt eight and nine is the hour, Master Brook. FORD, [as Brook] 'Tis past eight already, sir. FALSTAFF Is it? I will then address me to my appointment. Come to me at your convenient leisure, and you shall know how I speed; and the conclusion shall be crowned with your enjoying her. Adieu. You shall have her, Master Brook. Master Brook, you shall cuckold Ford. [Falstaff exits.] FORD Hum! Ha! Is this a vision? Is this a dream? Do I sleep? Master Ford, awake! Awake, Master Ford! There's a hole made in your best coat, Master Ford. This 'tis to be married; this 'tis to have linen and buck-baskets! Well, I will proclaim myself what I am. I will now take the lecher. He is at my house. He cannot 'scape me. 'Tis impossible he should. He cannot creep into a half-penny purse, nor into a pepper-box. But lest the devil that guides him should aid him, I will search impossible places. Though what I am I cannot avoid, yet to be what I would not shall not make me tame. If I have horns to make one mad, let the proverb go with me: I'll be horn-mad. [He exits.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Mistress Page, Mistress Quickly, and William.] MISTRESS PAGE Is he at Master Ford's already, think'st thou? MISTRESS QUICKLY Sure he is by this, or will be presently. But truly he is very courageous mad about his throwing into the water. Mistress Ford desires you to come suddenly. MISTRESS PAGE I'll be with her by and by. I'll but bring my young man here to school. [Enter Sir Hugh Evans.] Look where his master comes. 'Tis a playing day, I see.--How now, Sir Hugh, no school today? SIR HUGH No. Master Slender is let the boys leave to play. MISTRESS QUICKLY Blessing of his heart! MISTRESS PAGE Sir Hugh, my husband says my son profits nothing in the world at his book. I pray you, ask him some questions in his accidence. SIR HUGH Come hither, William. Hold up your head. Come. MISTRESS PAGE Come on, sirrah. Hold up your head. Answer your master. Be not afraid. SIR HUGH William, how many numbers is in nouns? WILLIAM Two. MISTRESS QUICKLY Truly, I thought there had been one number more, because they say " 'Od's nouns." SIR HUGH Peace your tattlings!--What is "fair," William? WILLIAM Pulcher. MISTRESS QUICKLY Polecats? There are fairer things than polecats, sure. SIR HUGH You are a very simplicity 'oman. I pray you, peace.--What is lapis, William? WILLIAM A stone. SIR HUGH And what is "a stone," William? WILLIAM A pebble. SIR HUGH No. It is lapis. I pray you, remember in your prain. WILLIAM Lapis. SIR HUGH That is a good William. What is he, William, that does lend articles? WILLIAM Articles are borrowed of the pronoun and be thus declined: singulariter, nominativo, hic, haec, hoc. SIR HUGH Nominativo, hig, haeg, hog. Pray you, mark: genitivo, huius. Well, what is your accusative case? WILLIAM Accusativo, hinc. SIR HUGH I pray you, have your remembrance, child. Accusativo, hung, hang, hog. MISTRESS QUICKLY "Hang-hog" is Latin for bacon, I warrant you. SIR HUGH Leave your prabbles, 'oman.--What is the focative case, William? WILLIAM O--vocativo--O-- SIR HUGH Remember, William, focative is caret. MISTRESS QUICKLY And that's a good root. SIR HUGH 'Oman, forbear. MISTRESS PAGE, [to Mistress Quickly] Peace! SIR HUGH What is your genitive case plural, William? WILLIAM Genitive case? SIR HUGH Ay. WILLIAM Genitive: horum, harum, horum. MISTRESS QUICKLY Vengeance of Ginny's case! Fie on her! Never name her, child, if she be a whore. SIR HUGH For shame, 'oman! MISTRESS QUICKLY You do ill to teach the child such words.--He teaches him to hick and to hack, which they'll do fast enough of themselves, and to call "whorum."--Fie upon you! SIR HUGH 'Oman, art thou lunatics? Hast thou no understandings for thy cases and the numbers of the genders? Thou art as foolish Christian creatures as I would desires. MISTRESS PAGE, [to Mistress Quickly] Prithee, hold thy peace. SIR HUGH Show me now, William, some declensions of your pronouns. WILLIAM Forsooth, I have forgot. SIR HUGH It is qui, quae, quod. If you forget your qui's, your quae's, and your quod's, you must be preeches. Go your ways and play, go. MISTRESS PAGE He is a better scholar than I thought he was. SIR HUGH He is a good sprag memory. Farewell, Mistress Page. MISTRESS PAGE Adieu, good Sir Hugh.--Get you home, boy. [(To Mistress Quickly.)] Come. We stay too long. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Sir John Falstaff and Mistress Ford.] FALSTAFF Mistress Ford, your sorrow hath eaten up my sufferance. I see you are obsequious in your love, and I profess requital to a hair's breadth, not only, Mistress Ford, in the simple office of love, but in all the accoutrement, compliment, and ceremony of it. But are you sure of your husband now? MISTRESS FORD He's a-birding, sweet Sir John. MISTRESS PAGE, [within] What ho, gossip Ford! What ho! MISTRESS FORD Step into th' chamber, Sir John. [Falstaff exits.] [Enter Mistress Page.] MISTRESS PAGE How now, sweetheart, who's at home besides yourself? MISTRESS FORD Why, none but mine own people. MISTRESS PAGE Indeed? MISTRESS FORD No, certainly. [Aside to her.] Speak louder. MISTRESS PAGE Truly, I am so glad you have nobody here. MISTRESS FORD Why? MISTRESS PAGE Why, woman, your husband is in his old lunes again. He so takes on yonder with my husband, so rails against all married mankind, so curses all Eve's daughters of what complexion soever, and so buffets himself on the forehead, crying "Peer out, peer out!" that any madness I ever yet beheld seemed but tameness, civility, and patience to this his distemper he is in now. I am glad the fat knight is not here. MISTRESS FORD Why, does he talk of him? MISTRESS PAGE Of none but him, and swears he was carried out, the last time he searched for him, in a basket; protests to my husband he is now here; and hath drawn him and the rest of their company from their sport to make another experiment of his suspicion. But I am glad the knight is not here. Now he shall see his own foolery. MISTRESS FORD How near is he, Mistress Page? MISTRESS PAGE Hard by, at street end. He will be here anon. MISTRESS FORD I am undone! The knight is here. MISTRESS PAGE Why then, you are utterly shamed, and he's but a dead man. What a woman are you! Away with him, away with him! Better shame than murder. MISTRESS FORD Which way should he go? How should I bestow him? Shall I put him into the basket again? [Enter Sir John Falstaff.] FALSTAFF No, I'll come no more i' th' basket. May I not go out ere he come? MISTRESS PAGE Alas, three of Master Ford's brothers watch the door with pistols, that none shall issue out. Otherwise you might slip away ere he came. But what make you here? FALSTAFF What shall I do? I'll creep up into the chimney. MISTRESS FORD There they always use to discharge their birding pieces. MISTRESS PAGE Creep into the kiln-hole. FALSTAFF Where is it? MISTRESS FORD He will seek there, on my word. Neither press, coffer, chest, trunk, well, vault, but he hath an abstract for the remembrance of such places, and goes to them by his note. There is no hiding you in the house. FALSTAFF I'll go out, then. MISTRESS PAGE If you go out in your own semblance, you die, Sir John--unless you go out disguised. MISTRESS FORD How might we disguise him? MISTRESS PAGE Alas the day, I know not. There is no woman's gown big enough for him; otherwise he might put on a hat, a muffler, and a kerchief, and so escape. FALSTAFF Good hearts, devise something. Any extremity rather than a mischief. MISTRESS FORD My maid's aunt, the fat woman of Brentford, has a gown above. MISTRESS PAGE On my word, it will serve him. She's as big as he is. And there's her thrummed hat and her muffler too.--Run up, Sir John. MISTRESS FORD Go, go, sweet Sir John. Mistress Page and I will look some linen for your head. MISTRESS PAGE Quick, quick! We'll come dress you straight. Put on the gown the while. [Falstaff exits.] MISTRESS FORD I would my husband would meet him in this shape. He cannot abide the old woman of Brentford. He swears she's a witch, forbade her my house, and hath threatened to beat her. MISTRESS PAGE Heaven guide him to thy husband's cudgel, and the devil guide his cudgel afterwards! MISTRESS FORD But is my husband coming? MISTRESS PAGE Ay, in good sadness is he, and talks of the basket too, howsoever he hath had intelligence. MISTRESS FORD We'll try that; for I'll appoint my men to carry the basket again, to meet him at the door with it as they did last time. MISTRESS PAGE Nay, but he'll be here presently. Let's go dress him like the witch of Brentford. MISTRESS FORD I'll first direct my men what they shall do with the basket. Go up. I'll bring linen for him straight. [She exits.] MISTRESS PAGE Hang him, dishonest varlet! We cannot misuse him enough. We'll leave a proof, by that which we will do, Wives may be merry and yet honest too. We do not act that often jest and laugh; 'Tis old but true: "Still swine eats all the draff." [She exits.] [Enter Mistress Ford with Robert and John, who bring the buck-basket.] MISTRESS FORD Go, sirs, take the basket again on your shoulders. Your master is hard at door. If he bid you set it down, obey him. Quickly, dispatch. [She exits.] ROBERT Come, come, take it up. JOHN Pray heaven it be not full of knight again. ROBERT I hope not. I had lief as bear so much lead. [They pick up the basket.] [Enter Ford, Page, Doctor Caius, Sir Hugh Evans, and Shallow.] FORD Ay, but if it prove true, Master Page, have you any way then to unfool me again?--Set down the basket, villain. [They put the basket down.] Somebody call my wife. Youth in a basket! O, you panderly rascals! There's a knot, a gang, a pack, a conspiracy against me. Now shall the devil be shamed.--What, wife, I say! Come, come forth! Behold what honest clothes you send forth to bleaching! PAGE Why, this passes, Master Ford! You are not to go loose any longer; you must be pinioned. SIR HUGH Why, this is lunatics. This is mad as a mad dog. SHALLOW Indeed, Master Ford, this is not well, indeed. FORD So say I too, sir. [Enter Mistress Ford.] Come hither, Mistress Ford.--Mistress Ford, the honest woman, the modest wife, the virtuous creature, that hath the jealous fool to her husband!--I suspect without cause, mistress, do I? MISTRESS FORD Heaven be my witness you do, if you suspect me in any dishonesty. FORD Well said, brazen-face. Hold it out.--Come forth, sirrah. [He pulls clothes out of the basket.] PAGE This passes. MISTRESS FORD Are you not ashamed? Let the clothes alone. FORD I shall find you anon. SIR HUGH 'Tis unreasonable. Will you take up your wife's clothes? Come, away. FORD, [to the Servants] Empty the basket, I say. MISTRESS FORD Why, man, why? FORD Master Page, as I am a man, there was one conveyed out of my house yesterday in this basket. Why may not he be there again? In my house I am sure he is. My intelligence is true, my jealousy is reasonable.--Pluck me out all the linen. MISTRESS FORD If you find a man there, he shall die a flea's death. [Robert and John empty the basket.] PAGE Here's no man. SHALLOW By my fidelity, this is not well, Master Ford. This wrongs you. SIR HUGH Master Ford, you must pray, and not follow the imaginations of your own heart. This is jealousies. FORD Well, he's not here I seek for. PAGE No, nor nowhere else but in your brain. FORD Help to search my house this one time. If I find not what I seek, show no color for my extremity. Let me forever be your table-sport. Let them say of me "As jealous as Ford, that searched a hollow walnut for his wife's leman." Satisfy me once more. Once more search with me. [Robert and John refill the basket and carry it off.] MISTRESS FORD, [calling offstage] What ho, Mistress Page! Come you and the old woman down. My husband will come into the chamber. FORD "Old woman"? What old woman's that? MISTRESS FORD Why, it is my maid's aunt of Brentford. FORD A witch, a quean, an old cozening quean! Have I not forbid her my house? She comes of errands, does she? We are simple men; we do not know what's brought to pass under the profession of fortune-telling. She works by charms, by spells, by th' figure, and such daubery as this is, beyond our element. We know nothing.-- Come down, you witch, you hag, you! Come down, I say! [Ford seizes a cudgel.] MISTRESS FORD Nay, good sweet husband!--Good gentlemen, let him not strike the old woman. [Enter Mistress Page and Sir John Falstaff disguised as an old woman.] MISTRESS PAGE Come, Mother Pratt; come, give me your hand. FORD I'll pratt her. [(He beats Falstaff.)] Out of my door, you witch, you rag, you baggage, you polecat, you runnion! Out, out! I'll conjure you, I'll fortune-tell you! [Falstaff exits.] MISTRESS PAGE Are you not ashamed? I think you have killed the poor woman. MISTRESS FORD Nay, he will do it.--'Tis a goodly credit for you. FORD Hang her, witch! SIR HUGH By yea and no, I think the 'oman is a witch indeed. I like not when a 'oman has a great peard. I spy a great peard under her muffler. FORD Will you follow, gentlemen? I beseech you, follow. See but the issue of my jealousy. If I cry out thus upon no trail, never trust me when I open again. PAGE Let's obey his humor a little further. Come, gentlemen. [Ford, Page, Caius, Sir Hugh, and Shallow exit.] MISTRESS PAGE Trust me, he beat him most pitifully. MISTRESS FORD Nay, by th' Mass, that he did not; he beat him most unpitifully, methought. MISTRESS PAGE I'll have the cudgel hallowed and hung o'er the altar. It hath done meritorious service. MISTRESS FORD What think you? May we, with the warrant of womanhood and the witness of a good conscience, pursue him with any further revenge? MISTRESS PAGE The spirit of wantonness is, sure, scared out of him. If the devil have him not in fee simple, with fine and recovery, he will never, I think, in the way of waste, attempt us again. MISTRESS FORD Shall we tell our husbands how we have served him? MISTRESS PAGE Yes, by all means--if it be but to scrape the figures out of your husband's brains. If they can find in their hearts the poor unvirtuous fat knight shall be any further afflicted, we two will still be the ministers. MISTRESS FORD I'll warrant they'll have him publicly shamed, and methinks there would be no period to the jest should he not be publicly shamed. MISTRESS PAGE Come, to the forge with it, then shape it. I would not have things cool. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Host and Bardolph.] BARDOLPH Sir, the Germans desire to have three of your horses. The Duke himself will be tomorrow at court, and they are going to meet him. HOST What duke should that be comes so secretly? I hear not of him in the court. Let me speak with the gentlemen. They speak English? BARDOLPH Ay, sir. I'll call them to you. HOST They shall have my horses, but I'll make them pay. I'll sauce them. They have had my house a week at command; I have turned away my other guests. They must come off. I'll sauce them. Come. [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Page, Ford, Mistress Page, Mistress Ford, and Sir Hugh Evans.] SIR HUGH 'Tis one of the best discretions of a 'oman as ever I did look upon. PAGE And did he send you both these letters at an instant? MISTRESS PAGE Within a quarter of an hour. FORD Pardon me, wife. Henceforth do what thou wilt. I rather will suspect the sun with cold Than thee with wantonness. Now doth thy honor stand, In him that was of late an heretic, As firm as faith. PAGE 'Tis well, 'tis well. No more. Be not as extreme in submission as in offense. But let our plot go forward. Let our wives Yet once again, to make us public sport, Appoint a meeting with this old fat fellow, Where we may take him and disgrace him for it. FORD There is no better way than that they spoke of. PAGE How, to send him word they'll meet him in the park at midnight? Fie, fie, he'll never come. SIR HUGH You say he has been thrown in the rivers and has been grievously peaten as an old 'oman. Methinks there should be terrors in him, that he should not come. Methinks his flesh is punished; he shall have no desires. PAGE So think I too. MISTRESS FORD Devise but how you'll use him when he comes, And let us two devise to bring him thither. MISTRESS PAGE There is an old tale goes that Herne the Hunter, Sometime a keeper here in Windsor Forest, Doth all the wintertime, at still midnight, Walk round about an oak, with great ragged horns, And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle, And makes milch-kine yield blood, and shakes a chain In a most hideous and dreadful manner. You have heard of such a spirit, and well you know The superstitious idle-headed eld Received and did deliver to our age This tale of Herne the Hunter for a truth. PAGE Why, yet there want not many that do fear In deep of night to walk by this Herne's oak. But what of this? MISTRESS FORD Marry, this is our device, That Falstaff at that oak shall meet with us. PAGE Well, let it not be doubted but he'll come. And in this shape when you have brought him thither, What shall be done with him? What is your plot? MISTRESS PAGE That likewise have we thought upon, and thus: Nan Page my daughter, and my little son, And three or four more of their growth we'll dress Like urchins, aufs, and fairies, green and white, With rounds of waxen tapers on their heads And rattles in their hands. Upon a sudden, As Falstaff, she, and I are newly met, Let them from forth a sawpit rush at once With some diffused song. Upon their sight, We two in great amazedness will fly. Then let them all encircle him about, And, fairy-like, to pinch the unclean knight, And ask him why, that hour of fairy revel, In their so sacred paths he dares to tread In shape profane. FORD And till he tell the truth, Let the supposed fairies pinch him sound And burn him with their tapers. MISTRESS PAGE The truth being known, We'll all present ourselves, dis-horn the spirit, And mock him home to Windsor. FORD The children must Be practiced well to this, or they'll ne'er do 't. SIR HUGH I will teach the children their behaviors, and I will be like a jackanapes also, to burn the knight with my taber. FORD That will be excellent. I'll go buy them vizards. MISTRESS PAGE My Nan shall be the queen of all the fairies, Finely attired in a robe of white. PAGE That silk will I go buy. [(Aside.)] And in that time Shall Master Slender steal my Nan away And marry her at Eton.--Go, send to Falstaff straight. FORD Nay, I'll to him again in name of Brook. He'll tell me all his purpose. Sure he'll come. MISTRESS PAGE Fear not you that. Go get us properties And tricking for our fairies. SIR HUGH Let us about it. It is admirable pleasures and fery honest knaveries. [Page, Ford, and Sir Hugh exit.] MISTRESS PAGE Go, Mistress Ford, Send quickly to Sir John to know his mind. [Mistress Ford exits.] I'll to the doctor. He hath my good will, And none but he, to marry with Nan Page. That Slender, though well-landed, is an idiot, And he my husband best of all affects. The doctor is well-moneyed, and his friends Potent at court. He, none but he, shall have her, Though twenty thousand worthier come to crave her. [She exits.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Host and Simple.] HOST What wouldst thou have, boor? What, thickskin? Speak, breathe, discuss; brief, short, quick, snap. SIMPLE Marry, sir, I come to speak with Sir John Falstaff from Master Slender. HOST There's his chamber, his house, his castle, his standing-bed and truckle-bed. 'Tis painted about with the story of the Prodigal, fresh and new. Go, knock and call. He'll speak like an Anthropophaginian unto thee. Knock, I say. SIMPLE There's an old woman, a fat woman, gone up into his chamber. I'll be so bold as stay, sir, till she come down. I come to speak with her, indeed. HOST Ha? A fat woman? The knight may be robbed. I'll call.--Bully knight! Bully Sir John! Speak from thy lungs military. Art thou there? It is thine Host, thine Ephesian, calls. FALSTAFF, [within] How now, mine Host? HOST Here's a Bohemian Tartar tarries the coming down of thy fat woman. Let her descend, bully, let her descend. My chambers are honorable. Fie! Privacy? Fie! [Enter Sir John Falstaff.] FALSTAFF There was, mine Host, an old fat woman even now with me, but she's gone. SIMPLE Pray you, sir, was 't not the wise woman of Brentford? FALSTAFF Ay, marry, was it, mussel-shell. What would you with her? SIMPLE My master, sir, my Master Slender, sent to her, seeing her go through the streets, to know, sir, whether one Nym, sir, that beguiled him of a chain, had the chain or no. FALSTAFF I spake with the old woman about it. SIMPLE And what says she, I pray, sir? FALSTAFF Marry, she says that the very same man that beguiled Master Slender of his chain cozened him of it. SIMPLE I would I could have spoken with the woman herself. I had other things to have spoken with her too from him. FALSTAFF What are they? Let us know. HOST Ay, come. Quick! SIMPLE I may not conceal them, sir. HOST Conceal them, or thou diest. SIMPLE Why, sir, they were nothing but about Mistress Anne Page, to know if it were my master's fortune to have her or no. FALSTAFF 'Tis; 'tis his fortune. SIMPLE What, sir? FALSTAFF To have her or no. Go. Say the woman told me so. SIMPLE May I be bold to say so, sir? FALSTAFF Ay, sir; like who more bold. SIMPLE I thank your Worship. I shall make my master glad with these tidings. [He exits.] HOST Thou art clerkly, thou art clerkly, Sir John. Was there a wise woman with thee? FALSTAFF Ay, that there was, mine Host, one that hath taught me more wit than ever I learned before in my life. And I paid nothing for it neither, but was paid for my learning. [Enter Bardolph.] BARDOLPH, [to Host] Out, alas, sir, cozenage, mere cozenage! HOST Where be my horses? Speak well of them, varletto. BARDOLPH Run away with the cozeners. For so soon as I came beyond Eton, they threw me off from behind one of them in a slough of mire, and set spurs, and away, like three German devils, three Doctor Faustuses. HOST They are gone but to meet the Duke, villain. Do not say they be fled. Germans are honest men. [Enter Sir Hugh Evans.] SIR HUGH Where is mine Host? HOST What is the matter, sir? SIR HUGH Have a care of your entertainments. There is a friend of mine come to town tells me there is three cozen-Germans that has cozened all the hosts of Readings, of Maidenhead, of Colnbrook, of horses and money. I tell you for good will, look you. You are wise, and full of gibes and vlouting-stocks, and 'tis not convenient you should be cozened. Fare you well. [He exits.] [Enter Doctor Caius.] DOCTOR CAIUS Vere is mine Host de Jarteer? HOST Here, Master Doctor, in perplexity and doubtful dilemma. DOCTOR CAIUS I cannot tell vat is dat. But it is tell-a me dat you make grand preparation for a duke de Jamanie. By my trot, dere is no duke that the court is know to come. I tell you for good will. Adieu. [He exits.] HOST, [to Bardolph] Hue and cry, villain, go!--Assist me, knight. I am undone.--Fly, run; hue and cry, villain! I am undone. [Host and Bardolph exit.] FALSTAFF I would all the world might be cozened, for I have been cozened and beaten too. If it should come to the ear of the court how I have been transformed, and how my transformation hath been washed and cudgeled, they would melt me out of my fat drop by drop, and liquor fishermen's boots with me. I warrant they would whip me with their fine wits till I were as crestfallen as a dried pear. I never prospered since I forswore myself at primero. Well, if my wind were but long enough, I would repent. [Enter Mistress Quickly.] Now, whence come you? MISTRESS QUICKLY From the two parties, forsooth. FALSTAFF The devil take one party, and his dam the other, and so they shall be both bestowed. I have suffered more for their sakes, more than the villainous inconstancy of man's disposition is able to bear. MISTRESS QUICKLY And have not they suffered? Yes, I warrant, speciously one of them. Mistress Ford, good heart, is beaten black and blue that you cannot see a white spot about her. FALSTAFF What tell'st thou me of black and blue? I was beaten myself into all the colors of the rainbow, and I was like to be apprehended for the witch of Brentford. But that my admirable dexterity of wit, my counterfeiting the action of an old woman, delivered me, the knave constable had set me i' th' stocks, i' th' common stocks, for a witch. MISTRESS QUICKLY Sir, let me speak with you in your chamber. You shall hear how things go, and, I warrant, to your content. Here is a letter will say somewhat. [She gives him a paper.] Good hearts, what ado here is to bring you together! Sure, one of you does not serve heaven well, that you are so crossed. FALSTAFF Come up into my chamber. [They exit.] Scene 6 ======= [Enter Fenton and Host.] HOST Master Fenton, talk not to me. My mind is heavy. I will give over all. FENTON Yet hear me speak. Assist me in my purpose, And, as I am a gentleman, I'll give thee A hundred pound in gold more than your loss. HOST I will hear you, Master Fenton, and I will, at the least, keep your counsel. FENTON From time to time I have acquainted you With the dear love I bear to fair Anne Page, Who mutually hath answered my affection, So far forth as herself might be her chooser, Even to my wish. I have a letter from her Of such contents as you will wonder at, The mirth whereof so larded with my matter That neither singly can be manifested Without the show of both. Fat Falstaff Hath a great scene; the image of the jest I'll show you here at large. [He shows the Host a paper.] Hark, good mine Host: Tonight at Herne's oak, just 'twixt twelve and one, Must my sweet Nan present the Fairy Queen-- The purpose why is here--in which disguise, While other jests are something rank on foot, Her father hath commanded her to slip Away with Slender, and with him at Eton Immediately to marry. She hath consented. Now, sir, Her mother, ever strong against that match And firm for Doctor Caius, hath appointed That he shall likewise shuffle her away, While other sports are tasking of their minds, And at the dean'ry, where a priest attends, Straight marry her. To this her mother's plot She, seemingly obedient, likewise hath Made promise to the doctor. Now, thus it rests: Her father means she shall be all in white, And in that habit, when Slender sees his time To take her by the hand and bid her go, She shall go with him. Her mother hath intended The better to denote her to the doctor-- For they must all be masked and vizarded-- That quaint in green she shall be loose enrobed, With ribbons pendent flaring 'bout her head; And when the doctor spies his vantage ripe, To pinch her by the hand, and on that token The maid hath given consent to go with him. HOST Which means she to deceive, father or mother? FENTON Both, my good Host, to go along with me. And here it rests, that you'll procure the vicar To stay for me at church 'twixt twelve and one, And, in the lawful name of marrying, To give our hearts united ceremony. HOST Well, husband your device. I'll to the vicar. Bring you the maid, you shall not lack a priest. FENTON So shall I evermore be bound to thee; Besides, I'll make a present recompense. [They exit.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Sir John Falstaff and Mistress Quickly.] FALSTAFF Prithee, no more prattling. Go. I'll hold. This is the third time; I hope good luck lies in odd numbers. Away, go. They say there is divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity, chance, or death. Away. MISTRESS QUICKLY I'll provide you a chain, and I'll do what I can to get you a pair of horns. FALSTAFF Away, I say! Time wears. Hold up your head, and mince. [Mistress Quickly exits.] [Enter Ford disguised as Brook.] How now, Master Brook! Master Brook, the matter will be known tonight or never. Be you in the park about midnight, at Herne's oak, and you shall see wonders. FORD, [as Brook] Went you not to her yesterday, sir, as you told me you had appointed? FALSTAFF I went to her, Master Brook, as you see, like a poor old man, but I came from her, Master Brook, like a poor old woman. That same knave Ford, her husband, hath the finest mad devil of jealousy in him, Master Brook, that ever governed frenzy. I will tell you, he beat me grievously, in the shape of a woman; for in the shape of man, Master Brook, I fear not Goliath with a weaver's beam, because I know also life is a shuttle. I am in haste. Go along with me; I'll tell you all, Master Brook. Since I plucked geese, played truant, and whipped top, I knew not what 'twas to be beaten till lately. Follow me. I'll tell you strange things of this knave Ford, on whom tonight I will be revenged, and I will deliver his wife into your hand. Follow. Strange things in hand, Master Brook! Follow. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Page, Shallow, and Slender.] PAGE Come, come. We'll couch i' th' castle ditch till we see the light of our fairies.--Remember, son Slender, my-- SLENDER Ay, forsooth, I have spoke with her, and we have a nayword how to know one another. I come to her in white and cry "mum," she cries "budget," and by that we know one another. SHALLOW That's good too. But what needs either your "mum" or her "budget"? The white will decipher her well enough. It hath struck ten o'clock. PAGE The night is dark. Light and spirits will become it well. Heaven prosper our sport! No man means evil but the devil, and we shall know him by his horns. Let's away. Follow me. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Mistress Page, Mistress Ford, and Doctor Caius.] MISTRESS PAGE Master Doctor, my daughter is in green. When you see your time, take her by the hand; away with her to the deanery, and dispatch it quickly. Go before into the park. We two must go together. DOCTOR CAIUS I know vat I have to do. Adieu. MISTRESS PAGE Fare you well, sir. [Caius exits.] My husband will not rejoice so much at the abuse of Falstaff as he will chafe at the doctor's marrying my daughter. But 'tis no matter. Better a little chiding than a great deal of heartbreak. MISTRESS FORD Where is Nan now, and her troop of fairies, and the Welsh devil Hugh? MISTRESS PAGE They are all couched in a pit hard by Herne's oak, with obscured lights, which, at the very instant of Falstaff's and our meeting, they will at once display to the night. MISTRESS FORD That cannot choose but amaze him. MISTRESS PAGE If he be not amazed, he will be mocked. If he be amazed, he will every way be mocked. MISTRESS FORD We'll betray him finely. MISTRESS PAGE Against such lewdsters and their lechery, Those that betray them do no treachery. MISTRESS FORD The hour draws on. To the oak, to the oak! [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Sir Hugh Evans and boys disguised, like him, as Fairies.] SIR HUGH Trib, trib, fairies! Come, and remember your parts. Be pold, I pray you. Follow me into the pit, and when I give the watch-'ords, do as I pid you. Come, come; trib, trib. [They exit.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Sir John Falstaff wearing a buck's head.] FALSTAFF The Windsor bell hath struck twelve. The minute draws on. Now, the hot-blooded gods assist me! Remember, Jove, thou wast a bull for thy Europa; love set on thy horns. O powerful love, that in some respects makes a beast a man, in some other a man a beast! You were also, Jupiter, a swan for the love of Leda. O omnipotent love, how near the god drew to the complexion of a goose! A fault done first in the form of a beast; O Jove, a beastly fault! And then another fault in the semblance of a fowl; think on 't, Jove, a foul fault. When gods have hot backs, what shall poor men do? For me, I am here a Windsor stag, and the fattest, I think, i' th' forest. Send me a cool rut-time, Jove, or who can blame me to piss my tallow? [Enter Mistress Page and Mistress Ford.] Who comes here? My doe? MISTRESS FORD Sir John? Art thou there, my deer, my male deer? FALSTAFF My doe with the black scut! Let the sky rain potatoes, let it thunder to the tune of "Greensleeves," hail kissing-comfits, and snow eryngoes; let there come a tempest of provocation, I will shelter me here. [He embraces her.] MISTRESS FORD Mistress Page is come with me, sweetheart. FALSTAFF Divide me like a bribed buck, each a haunch. I will keep my sides to myself, my shoulders for the fellow of this walk, and my horns I bequeath your husbands. Am I a woodman, ha? Speak I like Herne the Hunter? Why, now is Cupid a child of conscience; he makes restitution. As I am a true spirit, welcome. [A noise of horns within.] MISTRESS PAGE Alas, what noise? MISTRESS FORD Heaven forgive our sins! FALSTAFF What should this be? MISTRESS FORD and MISTRESS PAGE Away, away. [The two women run off.] FALSTAFF I think the devil will not have me damned, lest the oil that's in me should set hell on fire. He would never else cross me thus. [Enter Mistress Quickly, Pistol, Sir Hugh Evans, Anne Page and boys, all disguised as Fairies and carrying tapers.] MISTRESS QUICKLY, [as Fairy Queen] Fairies black, gray, green, and white, You moonshine revelers and shades of night, You orphan heirs of fixed destiny, Attend your office and your quality. Crier Hobgoblin, make the fairy oyes. PISTOL, [as Hobgoblin] Elves, list your names. Silence, you airy toys!-- Cricket, to Windsor chimneys shalt thou leap, Where fires thou find'st unraked and hearths unswept. There pinch the maids as blue as bilberry. Our radiant queen hates sluts and sluttery. FALSTAFF, [aside] They are fairies. He that speaks to them shall die. I'll wink and couch. No man their works must eye. [He crouches down and covers his eyes.] SIR HUGH, [as a fairy] Where's Bead? Go you, and where you find a maid That ere she sleep has thrice her prayers said, Raise up the organs of her fantasy; Sleep she as sound as careless infancy. But those as sleep and think not on their sins, Pinch them, arms, legs, backs, shoulders, sides, and shins. MISTRESS QUICKLY, [as Fairy Queen] About, about! Search Windsor Castle, elves, within and out. Strew good luck, aufs, on every sacred room, That it may stand till the perpetual doom In state as wholesome as in state 'tis fit, Worthy the owner, and the owner it. The several chairs of order look you scour With juice of balm and every precious flower. Each fair installment, coat, and sev'ral crest With loyal blazon evermore be blest! And nightly, meadow fairies, look you sing, Like to the Garter's compass, in a ring. Th' expressure that it bears, green let it be, More fertile-fresh than all the field to see; And Honi soit qui mal y pense write In em'rald tufts, flowers purple, blue, and white, Like sapphire, pearl, and rich embroidery, Buckled below fair knighthood's bending knee. Fairies use flowers for their charactery. Away, disperse! But till 'tis one o'clock, Our dance of custom round about the oak Of Herne the Hunter let us not forget. SIR HUGH, [as a fairy] Pray you, lock hand in hand. Yourselves in order set; And twenty glowworms shall our lanterns be, To guide our measure round about the tree. But stay! I smell a man of Middle Earth. FALSTAFF, [aside] Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy, lest he transform me to a piece of cheese. PISTOL, [as Hobgoblin, to Falstaff] Vile worm, thou wast o'erlooked even in thy birth. MISTRESS QUICKLY, [as Fairy Queen, to Sir Hugh] With trial-fire touch me his finger-end. If he be chaste, the flame will back descend And turn him to no pain. But if he start, It is the flesh of a corrupted heart. PISTOL, [as Hobgoblin] A trial, come! SIR HUGH, [as a fairy] Come, will this wood take fire? [Sir Hugh puts a taper to Falstaff's finger, and he starts.] FALSTAFF O, O, O! MISTRESS QUICKLY, [as Fairy Queen] Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in desire! About him, fairies. Sing a scornful rhyme, And, as you trip, still pinch him to your time. [Here they pinch him and sing about him, and Doctor Caius comes one way and steals away a boy in white. And Slender comes another way; he takes a boy in green. And Fenton steals Mistress Anne Page.] FAIRIES [sing] Fie on sinful fantasy! Fie on lust and luxury! Lust is but a bloody fire Kindled with unchaste desire, Fed in heart whose flames aspire As thoughts do blow them higher and higher. Pinch him, fairies, mutually; Pinch him for his villainy. Pinch him and burn him and turn him about, Till candles and starlight and moonshine be out. [A noise of hunting is made within, and all the fairies run away from Falstaff, who pulls off his buck's head and rises up. Enter Page, Mistress Page, Mistress Ford and Ford.] PAGE, [to Falstaff] Nay, do not fly. I think we have watched you now. Will none but Herne the Hunter serve your turn? MISTRESS PAGE I pray you, come, hold up the jest no higher.-- Now, good Sir John, how like you Windsor wives? [She points to the horns.] See you these, husband? Do not these fair yokes Become the forest better than the town? FORD, [to Falstaff] Now, sir, who's a cuckold now? Master Brook, Falstaff's a knave, a cuckoldly knave. Here are his horns, Master Brook. And, Master Brook, he hath enjoyed nothing of Ford's but his buck-basket, his cudgel, and twenty pounds of money, which must be paid to Master Brook. His horses are arrested for it, Master Brook. MISTRESS FORD Sir John, we have had ill luck. We could never meet. I will never take you for my love again, but I will always count you my deer. FALSTAFF I do begin to perceive that I am made an ass. FORD Ay, and an ox too. Both the proofs are extant. FALSTAFF And these are not fairies. I was three or four times in the thought they were not fairies; and yet the guiltiness of my mind, the sudden surprise of my powers, drove the grossness of the foppery into a received belief, in despite of the teeth of all rhyme and reason, that they were fairies. See now how wit may be made a Jack-a-Lent when 'tis upon ill employment. SIR HUGH Sir John Falstaff, serve Got and leave your desires, and fairies will not pinse you. FORD Well said, Fairy Hugh. SIR HUGH And leave you your jealousies too, I pray you. FORD I will never mistrust my wife again till thou art able to woo her in good English. FALSTAFF Have I laid my brain in the sun and dried it, that it wants matter to prevent so gross o'erreaching as this? Am I ridden with a Welsh goat too? Shall I have a coxcomb of frieze? 'Tis time I were choked with a piece of toasted cheese. SIR HUGH Seese is not good to give putter. Your belly is all putter. FALSTAFF "Seese" and "putter"? Have I lived to stand at the taunt of one that makes fritters of English? This is enough to be the decay of lust and late walking through the realm. MISTRESS PAGE Why, Sir John, do you think though we would have thrust virtue out of our hearts by the head and shoulders, and have given ourselves without scruple to hell, that ever the devil could have made you our delight? FORD What, a hodge-pudding? A bag of flax? MISTRESS PAGE A puffed man? PAGE Old, cold, withered, and of intolerable entrails? FORD And one that is as slanderous as Satan? PAGE And as poor as Job? FORD And as wicked as his wife? SIR HUGH And given to fornications, and to taverns, and sack, and wine, and metheglins, and to drinkings and swearings and starings, pribbles and prabbles? FALSTAFF Well, I am your theme. You have the start of me. I am dejected. I am not able to answer the Welsh flannel. Ignorance itself is a plummet o'er me. Use me as you will. FORD Marry, sir, we'll bring you to Windsor to one Master Brook, that you have cozened of money, to whom you should have been a pander. Over and above that you have suffered, I think to repay that money will be a biting affliction. PAGE Yet be cheerful, knight. Thou shalt eat a posset tonight at my house, where I will desire thee to laugh at my wife, that now laughs at thee. Tell her Master Slender hath married her daughter. MISTRESS PAGE, [aside] Doctors doubt that. If Anne Page be my daughter, she is, by this, Doctor Caius' wife. [Enter Slender.] SLENDER Whoa, ho, ho, Father Page! PAGE Son, how now! How now, son! Have you dispatched? SLENDER "Dispatched"? I'll make the best in Gloucestershire know on 't. Would I were hanged, la, else! PAGE Of what, son? SLENDER I came yonder at Eton to marry Mistress Anne Page, and she's a great lubberly boy. If it had not been i' th' church, I would have swinged him, or he should have swinged me. If I did not think it had been Anne Page, would I might never stir! And 'tis a post-master's boy. PAGE Upon my life, then, you took the wrong-- SLENDER What need you tell me that? I think so, when I took a boy for a girl. If I had been married to him, for all he was in woman's apparel, I would not have had him. PAGE Why, this is your own folly. Did not I tell you how you should know my daughter by her garments? SLENDER I went to her in white, and cried "mum," and she cried "budget," as Anne and I had appointed, and yet it was not Anne, but a post-master's boy. MISTRESS PAGE Good George, be not angry. I knew of your purpose, turned my daughter into green, and indeed she is now with the doctor at the deanery, and there married. [Enter Doctor Caius.] DOCTOR CAIUS Vere is Mistress Page? By gar, I am cozened! I ha' married un garcon, a boy; un paysan, by gar, a boy. It is not Anne Page. By gar, I am cozened. MISTRESS PAGE Why? Did you take her in green? DOCTOR CAIUS Ay, be gar, and 'tis a boy. Be gar, I'll raise all Windsor. FORD This is strange. Who hath got the right Anne? [Enter Fenton and Anne Page.] PAGE My heart misgives me. Here comes Master Fenton.-- How now, Master Fenton! ANNE Pardon, good father. Good my mother, pardon. PAGE Now, mistress, how chance you went not with Master Slender? MISTRESS PAGE Why went you not with Master Doctor, maid? FENTON You do amaze her. Hear the truth of it. You would have married her most shamefully, Where there was no proportion held in love. The truth is, she and I, long since contracted, Are now so sure that nothing can dissolve us. Th' offense is holy that she hath committed, And this deceit loses the name of craft, Of disobedience, or unduteous title, Since therein she doth evitate and shun A thousand irreligious cursed hours Which forced marriage would have brought upon her. FORD, [to Page and Mistress Page] Stand not amazed. Here is no remedy. In love the heavens themselves do guide the state. Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate. FALSTAFF I am glad, though you have ta'en a special stand to strike at me, that your arrow hath glanced. PAGE Well, what remedy? Fenton, heaven give thee joy. What cannot be eschewed must be embraced. FALSTAFF When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer are chased. MISTRESS PAGE Well, I will muse no further.--Master Fenton, Heaven give you many, many merry days.-- Good husband, let us every one go home And laugh this sport o'er by a country fire-- Sir John and all. FORD Let it be so, Sir John. To Master Brook you yet shall hold your word, For he tonight shall lie with Mistress Ford. [They exit.]

The Taming of the Shrew by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== Characters in the Induction: CHRISTOPHER SLY, a beggar Hostess of an alehouse A Lord Huntsmen of the Lord Page (disguised as a lady) Players Servingmen Messenger BAPTISTA MINOLA, father to Katherine and Bianca KATHERINE, his elder daughter BIANCA, his younger daughter PETRUCHIO, suitor to Katherine Suitors to Bianca: GREMIO HORTENSIO (later disguised as the teacher Litio) LUCENTIO (later disguised as the teacher Cambio) VINCENTIO, Lucentio's father Servants to Lucentio: TRANIO (later impersonating Lucentio) BIONDELLO A Merchant (later disguised as Vincentio) Servants to Petruchio: GRUMIO CURTIS NATHANIEL PHILLIP JOSEPH NICHOLAS PETER Widow Tailor Haberdasher Officer Servants to Baptista and Petruchio INDUCTION ========= Scene 1 ======= [Enter Beggar (Christopher Sly) and Hostess.] SLY I'll feeze you, in faith. HOSTESS A pair of stocks, you rogue! SLY You're 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! HOSTESS You will not pay for the glasses you have burst? SLY No, not a denier. Go, by Saint Jeronimy! Go to thy cold bed and warm thee. [He lies down.] HOSTESS I know my remedy. I must go fetch the headborough. [She exits.] SLY Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll answer him by law. I'll not budge an inch, boy. Let him come, and kindly. [Falls asleep.] [Wind horns within. Enter a Lord from hunting, with his train.] LORD Huntsman, I charge thee tender well my hounds. Breathe Merriman (the poor cur is embossed) And couple Clowder with the deep-mouthed brach. Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good At the hedge corner, in the coldest fault? I would not lose the dog for twenty pound! FIRST HUNTSMAN Why, Bellman is as good as he, my lord. He cried upon it at the merest loss, And twice today picked 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. Tomorrow I intend to hunt again. FIRST HUNTSMAN I will, my lord. [First Huntsman exits.] LORD, [noticing Sly] What's here? One dead, or drunk? See doth he breathe. SECOND HUNTSMAN He breathes, my lord. Were he not warmed 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 practice on this drunken man. What think you, if he were conveyed to bed, Wrapped in sweet clothes, rings put upon his fingers, A most delicious banquet by his bed, And brave attendants near him when he wakes, Would not the beggar then forget himself? THIRD HUNTSMAN Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose. SECOND HUNTSMAN It would seem strange unto him when he waked. LORD Even as a flatt'ring 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 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 Honor will command?" Let one attend him with a silver basin Full of rosewater and bestrewed with flowers, Another bear the ewer, the third a diaper, And say "Will 't please your Lordship cool your hands?" Someone be ready with a costly suit, And ask him what apparel he will wear. Another tell him of his hounds and horse, And that his lady mourns at his disease. Persuade him that he hath been lunatic, And when he says he is, say that he dreams, For he is nothing but a mighty lord. This do, and do it kindly, gentle sirs. It will be pastime passing excellent If it be husbanded with modesty. THIRD HUNTSMAN My lord, I warrant you we will play our part As he shall think by our true diligence He is no less than what we say he is. LORD Take him up gently, and to bed with him, And each one to his office when he wakes. [Sly is carried out.] [Sound trumpets within.] Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds. [Servingman exits.] Belike some noble gentleman that means (Traveling some journey) to repose him here. [Enter Servingman.] How now? Who is it? SERVINGMAN An 't please your Honor, players That offer service to your Lordship. LORD Bid them come near. [Enter Players.] Now, fellows, you are welcome. PLAYERS We thank your Honor. LORD Do you intend to stay with me tonight? FIRST PLAYER So please your Lordship to accept our duty. LORD With all my heart. This fellow I remember Since once he played a farmer's eldest son.-- 'Twas where you wooed the gentlewoman so well. I have forgot your name, but sure that part Was aptly fitted and naturally performed. SECOND PLAYER I think 'twas Soto that your Honor means. LORD 'Tis very true. Thou didst it excellent. Well, you are come to me in happy time, The rather for I have some sport in hand Wherein your cunning can assist me much. There is a lord will hear you play tonight; But I am doubtful of your modesties, Lest, over-eying of his odd behavior (For yet his Honor 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. FIRST PLAYER Fear not, my lord, we can contain ourselves Were he the veriest antic in the world. LORD, [to a Servingman] Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery And give them friendly welcome every one. Let them want nothing that my house affords. [One exits with the Players.] Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew, my page, And see him dressed 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 honorable action, Such as he hath observed in noble ladies Unto their lords, by them accomplished. Such duty to the drunkard let him do With soft low tongue and lowly courtesy, And say "What is 't your Honor 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 overjoyed 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 conveyed) Shall in despite enforce a watery eye. See this dispatched with all the haste thou canst. Anon I'll give thee more instructions. [A Servingman exits.] 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'll in to counsel them. Haply my presence May well abate the over-merry spleen Which otherwise would grow into extremes. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter aloft Christopher Sly, the drunkard, with Attendants, some with apparel, basin and ewer, and other appurtenances, and Lord dressed as an Attendant.] SLY For God's sake, a pot of small ale. FIRST SERVINGMAN Will 't please your Lord drink a cup of sack? SECOND SERVINGMAN Will 't please your Honor taste of these conserves? THIRD SERVINGMAN What raiment will your Honor wear today? SLY I am Christophero Sly! Call not me "Honor" nor "Lordship." I ne'er drank sack in my life. An if you give me any conserves, give me conserves of beef. Ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear, for I have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings than legs, nor no more shoes than feet, nay sometime more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the over-leather. LORD, [as Attendant] Heaven cease this idle humor in your Honor! 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 peddler, by education a cardmaker, by transmutation a bearherd, and now by present profession a tinker? Ask Marian Hacket, the fat alewife of Wincot, if she know me not! If she say I am not fourteen pence on the score for sheer ale, score me up for the lying'st knave in Christendom. What, I am not bestraught! Here's-- THIRD SERVINGMAN O, this it is that makes your lady mourn. SECOND SERVINGMAN O, this is it that makes your servants droop. LORD, [as Attendant] Hence comes it that your kindred shuns your house, 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'll have thee to a couch Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed On purpose trimmed up for Semiramis. Say thou wilt walk, we will bestrew the ground. Or wilt thou ride? Thy horses shall be trapped, 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 SERVINGMAN Say thou wilt course. Thy greyhounds are as swift As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe. SECOND SERVINGMAN Dost thou love pictures? We will fetch thee straight Adonis painted by a running brook, And Cytherea all in sedges hid, Which seem to move and wanton with her breath, Even as the waving sedges play with wind. LORD, [as Attendant] We'll show thee Io as she was a maid And how she was beguiled and surprised, As lively painted as the deed was done. THIRD SERVINGMAN Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood, Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds, And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep, So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn. LORD, [as Attendant] Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord; Thou hast a lady far more beautiful Than any woman in this waning age. FIRST SERVINGMAN And till the tears that she hath shed for thee Like envious floods o'errun her lovely face, She was the fairest creature in the world-- And yet she is inferior to none. SLY Am I a lord, and have I such a lady? Or do I dream? Or have I dreamed till now? I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak, I smell sweet savors, and I feel soft things. Upon my life, I am a lord indeed And not a tinker, nor Christopher Sly. Well, bring our lady hither to our sight, And once again a pot o' the smallest ale. SECOND SERVINGMAN 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! These fifteen years you have been in a dream, Or, when you waked, so waked as if you slept. SLY These fifteen years! By my fay, a goodly nap. But did I never speak of all that time? FIRST SERVINGMAN Oh, yes, my lord, but very idle words. For though you lay here in this goodly chamber, Yet would you say you 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 sealed quarts. Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket. SLY Ay, the woman's maid of the house. THIRD SERVINGMAN Why, sir, you know no house, nor no such maid, Nor no such men as you have reckoned up, As Stephen Sly and old John Naps of Greete, And Peter Turph and Henry Pimpernell, And twenty more such names and men as these, Which never were, nor no man ever saw. SLY Now, Lord be thanked for my good amends! ALL Amen. SLY I thank thee. Thou shalt not lose by it. [Enter Page as Lady, with Attendants.] PAGE, [as Lady] How fares my noble lord? SLY Marry, I fare well, for here is cheer enough. Where is my wife? PAGE, [as Lady] 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 goodman. PAGE, [as Lady] 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? LORD, [as Attendant] "Madam." SLY "Alice Madam," or "Joan Madam"? LORD "Madam," and nothing else. So lords call ladies. SLY Madam wife, they say that I have dreamed And slept above some fifteen year or more. PAGE, [as Lady] Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me, Being all this time abandoned from your bed. SLY 'Tis much.--Servants, leave me and her alone.-- Madam, undress you, and come now to bed. PAGE, [as Lady] Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you To pardon me yet for a night or two; Or if not so, until the sun be set. For your physicians have expressly 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. [Enter a Messenger.] MESSENGER Your Honor'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 congealed 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. [Messenger exits.] Is not a comonty a Christmas gambold or a tumbling trick? PAGE, [as Lady] No, my good lord, it is more pleasing stuff. SLY What, household stuff? PAGE, [as Lady] 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. [They sit.] ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Flourish. Enter Lucentio and his man Tranio.] LUCENTIO 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 armed With his goodwill 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, 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 By virtue specially to be achieved. Tell me thy mind, for I have Pisa left And am to Padua come, as he that leaves A shallow plash to plunge him in the deep And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst. TRANIO 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, 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 practice 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. LUCENTIO 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. [Enter Baptista with his two daughters, Katherine and Bianca; Gremio, a pantaloon, and Hortensio, suitors to Bianca.] But stay awhile! What company is this? TRANIO Master, some show to welcome us to town. [Lucentio and Tranio stand by.] BAPTISTA, [to Gremio and Hortensio] Gentlemen, importune me no farther, For how I firmly am resolved you know: That is, not to bestow my youngest daughter Before I have a husband for the elder. If either of you both love Katherine, Because I know you well and love you well, Leave shall you have to court her at your pleasure. GREMIO To cart her, rather. She's too rough for me.-- There, there, Hortensio, will you any wife? KATHERINE, [to Baptista] I pray you, sir, is it your will To make a stale of me amongst these mates? HORTENSIO "Mates," maid? How mean you that? No mates for you, Unless you were of gentler, milder mold. KATHERINE I' faith, sir, you shall never need to fear. Iwis it is not halfway to her heart. But if it were, doubt not her care should be To comb your noddle with a three-legged stool And paint your face and use you like a fool. HORTENSIO From all such devils, good Lord, deliver us! GREMIO And me too, good Lord. TRANIO, [aside to Lucentio] Husht, master, here's some good pastime toward; That wench is stark mad or wonderful froward. LUCENTIO, [aside to Tranio] But in the other's silence do I see Maid's mild behavior and sobriety. Peace, Tranio. TRANIO, [aside to Lucentio] Well said, master. Mum, and gaze your fill. BAPTISTA, [to Gremio and Hortensio] 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. KATHERINE A pretty peat! It is best Put finger in the eye, an she knew why. BIANCA Sister, content you in my discontent.-- Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe. My books and instruments shall be my company, On them to look and practice by myself. LUCENTIO, [aside to Tranio] Hark, Tranio, thou mayst hear Minerva speak! HORTENSIO Signior Baptista, will you be so strange? Sorry am I that our goodwill effects Bianca's grief. GREMIO Why will you mew her up, Signior Baptista, for this fiend of hell, And make her bear the penance of her tongue? BAPTISTA Gentlemen, content you. I am resolved.-- Go in, Bianca. [Bianca exits.] 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.--Katherine, you may stay, For I have more to commune with Bianca. [He exits.] KATHERINE 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! [She exits.] GREMIO 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 means light on a fit man to teach her that wherein she delights, I will wish him to her father. HORTENSIO 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 labor and effect one thing specially. GREMIO What's that, I pray? HORTENSIO Marry, sir, to get a husband for her sister. GREMIO A husband? A devil! HORTENSIO I say "a husband." GREMIO I say "a devil." Think'st thou, Hortensio, though her father be very rich, any man is so very a fool to be married to hell? HORTENSIO Tush, Gremio. Though it pass your patience and mine to endure her loud alarums, why, man, there be good fellows in the world, an a man could light on them, would take her with all faults, and money enough. GREMIO I cannot tell. But I had as lief take her dowry with this condition: to be whipped at the high cross every morning. HORTENSIO 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 maintained till by helping Baptista's eldest daughter 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 runs fastest gets the ring. How say you, Signior Gremio? GREMIO 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. [Gremio and Hortensio exit. Tranio and Lucentio remain onstage.] TRANIO I pray, sir, tell me, is it possible That love should of a sudden take such hold? LUCENTIO 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. Counsel me, Tranio, for I know thou canst. Assist me, Tranio, for I know thou wilt. TRANIO Master, it is no time to chide you now. Affection is not rated from the heart. If love have touched you, naught remains but so: Redime te captum quam queas minimo. LUCENTIO Gramercies, lad. Go forward. This contents; The rest will comfort, for thy counsel's sound. TRANIO Master, you looked so longly on the maid, Perhaps you marked not what's the pith of all. LUCENTIO 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 kissed the Cretan strand. TRANIO Saw you no more? Marked you not how her sister Began to scold and raise up such a storm That mortal ears might hardly endure the din? LUCENTIO 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. TRANIO, [aside] 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 mewed her up, Because she will not be annoyed with suitors. LUCENTIO Ah, Tranio, what a cruel father's he! But art thou not advised he took some care To get her cunning schoolmasters to instruct her? TRANIO Ay, marry, am I, sir--and now 'tis plotted! LUCENTIO I have it, Tranio! TRANIO Master, for my hand, Both our inventions meet and jump in one. LUCENTIO Tell me thine first. TRANIO You will be schoolmaster And undertake the teaching of the maid: That's your device. LUCENTIO It is. May it be done? TRANIO Not possible. For who shall bear your part And be in Padua here Vincentio's son, Keep house, and ply his book, welcome his friends, Visit his countrymen and banquet them? LUCENTIO Basta, content thee, for I have it full. We have not yet been seen in any house, Nor can we be distinguished 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 hatched, and shall be so. Tranio, at once Uncase thee. Take my colored hat and cloak. [They exchange clothes.] When Biondello comes, he waits on thee, But I will charm him first to keep his tongue. TRANIO 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, Because so well I love Lucentio. LUCENTIO Tranio, be so, because Lucentio loves, And let me be a slave, t' achieve that maid Whose sudden sight hath thralled my wounded eye. [Enter Biondello.] Here comes the rogue.--Sirrah, where have you been? BIONDELLO 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? LUCENTIO Sirrah, come hither. 'Tis no time to jest, And therefore frame your manners to the time. Your fellow, Tranio here, to save my life, Puts my apparel and my count'nance on, And I for my escape have put on his; For in a quarrel since I came ashore I killed 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? BIONDELLO Ay, sir. [Aside.] Ne'er a whit. LUCENTIO And not a jot of "Tranio" in your mouth. Tranio is changed into Lucentio. BIONDELLO The better for him. Would I were so too. TRANIO 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 companies. When I am alone, why then I am Tranio; But in all places else, your master Lucentio. LUCENTIO Tranio, let's go. One thing more rests, that thyself execute, to make one among these wooers. If thou ask me why, sufficeth my reasons are both good and weighty. [They exit.] [The Presenters above speak.] FIRST SERVINGMAN My lord, you nod. You do not mind the play. SLY Yes, by Saint Anne, do I. A good matter, surely. Comes there any more of it? PAGE, [as Lady] My lord, 'tis but begun. SLY 'Tis a very excellent piece of work, madam lady. Would 'twere done. [They sit and mark.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Petruchio and his man Grumio.] PETRUCHIO 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. GRUMIO Knock, sir? Whom should I knock? Is there any man has rebused your Worship? PETRUCHIO Villain, I say, knock me here soundly. GRUMIO Knock you here, sir? Why, sir, what am I, sir, that I should knock you here, sir? PETRUCHIO Villain, I say, knock me at this gate And rap me well, or I'll knock your knave's pate. GRUMIO My master is grown quarrelsome. I should knock you first, And then I know after who comes by the worst. PETRUCHIO Will it not be? Faith, sirrah, an you'll not knock, I'll ring it. I'll try how you can sol, fa, and sing it. [He wrings him by the ears. Grumio falls.] GRUMIO Help, mistress, help! My master is mad. PETRUCHIO Now knock when I bid you, sirrah villain. [Enter Hortensio.] HORTENSIO How now, what's the matter? My old friend Grumio and my good friend Petruchio? How do you all at Verona? PETRUCHIO Signior Hortensio, come you to part the fray? Con tutto il cuore ben trovato, may I say. HORTENSIO Alia nostra casa ben venuto, molto honorato signor mio Petruchio.--Rise, Grumio, rise. We will compound this quarrel. [Grumio rises.] GRUMIO 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 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 knocked at first, Then had not Grumio come by the worst. PETRUCHIO A senseless villain, good Hortensio. I bade the rascal knock upon your gate And could not get him for my heart to do it. GRUMIO Knock at the gate? O, heavens, spake you not these words plain: "Sirrah, knock me here, rap me here, knock me well, and knock me soundly"? And come you now with "knocking at the gate"? PETRUCHIO Sirrah, begone, or talk not, I advise you. HORTENSIO Petruchio, patience. I am Grumio's pledge. Why, this' 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? PETRUCHIO Such wind as scatters young men through the world 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, Happily 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. HORTENSIO Petruchio, shall I then come roundly to thee And wish thee to a shrewd ill-favored wife? Thou 'dst 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'll not wish thee to her. PETRUCHIO 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 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. GRUMIO, [to Hortensio] 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 as many diseases as two-and-fifty horses. Why, nothing comes amiss, so money comes withal. HORTENSIO Petruchio, since we are stepped thus far in, I will continue that I broached in jest. I can, Petruchio, help thee to a wife With wealth enough, and young and beauteous, Brought up as best becomes a gentlewoman. Her only fault, and that is faults enough, Is that she is intolerable curst, And shrewd, and froward, so beyond all measure That, were my state far worser than it is, I would not wed her for a mine of gold. PETRUCHIO 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. HORTENSIO Her father is Baptista Minola, An affable and courteous gentleman. Her name is Katherina Minola, Renowned in Padua for her scolding tongue. PETRUCHIO 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. GRUMIO, [to Hortensio] I pray you, sir, let him go while the humor 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 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 disfigure her with it that she shall have no more eyes to see withal than a cat. You know him not, sir. HORTENSIO Tarry, Petruchio. I must go with thee, For in Baptista's keep my treasure is. He hath the jewel of my life in hold, His youngest daughter, beautiful Bianca, 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 Katherina will be wooed. Therefore this order hath Baptista ta'en, That none shall have access unto Bianca Till Katherine the curst have got a husband. GRUMIO "Katherine the curst," A title for a maid, of all titles the worst. HORTENSIO 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. GRUMIO Here's no knavery! See, to beguile the old folks, how the young folks lay their heads together! [Enter Gremio and Lucentio, disguised as Cambio, a schoolmaster.] Master, master, look about you. Who goes there, ha? HORTENSIO Peace, Grumio, it is the rival of my love. Petruchio, stand by awhile. [Petruchio, Hortensio, and Grumio stand aside.] GRUMIO, [aside] A proper stripling, and an amorous. GREMIO, [to Lucentio] 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, I'll 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? LUCENTIO, [as Cambio] Whate'er I read to her, I'll 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. GREMIO O this learning, what a thing it is! GRUMIO, [aside] O this woodcock, what an ass it is! PETRUCHIO, [aside] Peace, sirrah. HORTENSIO, [aside] Grumio, mum. [Coming forward.] God save you, Signior Gremio. GREMIO And you are well met, Signior Hortensio. Trow you whither I am going? To Baptista Minola. I promised to enquire carefully About a schoolmaster for the fair Bianca, And by good fortune I have lighted well On this young man, for learning and behavior Fit for her turn, well read in poetry And other books--good ones, I warrant you. HORTENSIO '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. GREMIO Beloved of me, and that my deeds shall prove. GRUMIO, [aside] And that his bags shall prove. HORTENSIO Gremio, 'tis now no time to vent our love. Listen to me, and if you speak me fair I'll tell you news indifferent good for either. [Presenting Petruchio.] Here is a gentleman whom by chance I met, Upon agreement from us to his liking, Will undertake to woo curst Katherine, Yea, and to marry her, if her dowry please. GREMIO So said, so done, is well. Hortensio, have you told him all her faults? PETRUCHIO I know she is an irksome, brawling scold. If that be all, masters, I hear no harm. GREMIO No? Sayst me so, friend? What countryman? PETRUCHIO 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. GREMIO Oh, 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 wildcat? PETRUCHIO Will I live? GRUMIO Will he woo her? Ay, or I'll hang her. PETRUCHIO Why came I hither but to that intent? Think you a little din can daunt mine ears? Have I not in my time heard lions roar? Have I not heard the sea, puffed 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? Tush, tush, fear boys with bugs! GRUMIO For he fears none. GREMIO Hortensio, hark. This gentleman is happily arrived, My mind presumes, for his own good and yours. HORTENSIO I promised we would be contributors And bear his charge of wooing whatsoe'er. GREMIO And so we will, provided that he win her. GRUMIO I would I were as sure of a good dinner. [Enter Tranio, disguised as Lucentio, and Biondello.] TRANIO, [as Lucentio] 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? BIONDELLO He that has the two fair daughters--is 't he you mean? TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Even he, Biondello. GREMIO Hark you, sir, you mean not her to-- TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Perhaps him and her, sir. What have you to do? PETRUCHIO Not her that chides, sir, at any hand, I pray. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] I love no chiders, sir. Biondello, let's away. LUCENTIO, [aside] Well begun, Tranio. HORTENSIO Sir, a word ere you go. Are you a suitor to the maid you talk of, yea or no? TRANIO, [as Lucentio] An if I be, sir, is it any offense? GREMIO No, if without more words you will get you hence. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Why sir, I pray, are not the streets as free For me, as for you? GREMIO But so is not she. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] For what reason, I beseech you? GREMIO For this reason, if you'll know: That she's the choice love of Signior Gremio. HORTENSIO That she's the chosen of Signior Hortensio. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Softly, my masters. If you be gentlemen, Do me this right: hear me with patience. Baptista is a noble gentleman 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. GREMIO What, this gentleman will out-talk us all! LUCENTIO, [as Cambio] Sir, give him head; I know he'll prove a jade. PETRUCHIO Hortensio, to what end are all these words? HORTENSIO, [to Tranio] Sir, let me be so bold as ask you, Did you yet ever see Baptista's daughter? TRANIO, [as Lucentio] 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. PETRUCHIO Sir, sir, the first's for me; let her go by. GREMIO Yea, leave that labor to great Hercules, And let it be more than Alcides' twelve. PETRUCHIO, [to Tranio] Sir, understand you this of me, in sooth: The youngest daughter, whom you hearken for, Her father keeps from all access of suitors And will not promise her to any man Until the elder sister first be wed. The younger then is free, and not before. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] 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. HORTENSIO Sir, you say well, and well you do conceive. And since you do profess to be a suitor, You must, as we do, gratify this gentleman, To whom we all rest generally beholding. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Sir, I shall not be slack; in sign whereof, Please you 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. GRUMIO and BIONDELLO O excellent motion! Fellows, let's be gone. HORTENSIO The motion's good indeed, and be it so.-- Petruchio, I shall be your ben venuto. [They exit.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Katherine and Bianca with her hands tied.] BIANCA Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong yourself, To make a bondmaid and a slave of me. That I disdain. But for these other goods-- Unbind my hands, I'll pull them off myself, Yea, all my raiment to my petticoat, Or what you will command me will I do, So well I know my duty to my elders. KATHERINE Of all thy suitors here I charge thee tell Whom thou lov'st best. See thou dissemble not. BIANCA Believe me, sister, of all the men alive I never yet beheld that special face Which I could fancy more than any other. KATHERINE Minion, thou liest. Is 't not Hortensio? BIANCA If you affect him, sister, here I swear I'll plead for you myself, but you shall have him. KATHERINE O, then belike you fancy riches more. You will have Gremio to keep you fair. BIANCA 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. I prithee, sister Kate, untie my hands. [Katherine strikes her.] KATHERINE If that be jest, then all the rest was so. [Enter Baptista.] BAPTISTA Why, how now, dame, whence grows this insolence?-- Bianca, stand aside.--Poor girl, she weeps! [He unties her hands.] [To Bianca.] Go ply thy needle; meddle not with her. [To Katherine.] 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? KATHERINE Her silence flouts me, and I'll be revenged! [She flies after Bianca.] BAPTISTA What, in my sight?--Bianca, get thee in. [Bianca exits.] KATHERINE What, will you not suffer me? Nay, now I see She is your treasure, she must have a husband, I must dance barefoot 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. [She exits.] BAPTISTA Was ever gentleman thus grieved as I? But who comes here? [Enter Gremio; Lucentio disguised as Cambio in the habit of a mean man; Petruchio with Hortensio disguised as Litio; and Tranio disguised as Lucentio, with his boy, Biondello bearing a lute and books.] GREMIO Good morrow, neighbor Baptista. BAPTISTA Good morrow, neighbor Gremio.--God save you, gentlemen. PETRUCHIO And you, good sir. Pray, have you not a daughter Called Katherina, fair and virtuous? BAPTISTA I have a daughter, sir, called Katherina. GREMIO, [to Petruchio] You are too blunt. Go to it orderly. PETRUCHIO 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 behavior, 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, disguised as Litio] 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 Litio, born in Mantua. BAPTISTA You're welcome, sir, and he for your good sake. But for my daughter Katherine, this I know, She is not for your turn, the more my grief. PETRUCHIO I see you do not mean to part with her, Or else you like not of my company. BAPTISTA Mistake me not. I speak but as I find. Whence are you, sir? What may I call your name? PETRUCHIO Petruchio is my name, Antonio's son, A man well known throughout all Italy. BAPTISTA I know him well. You are welcome for his sake. GREMIO Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray Let us that are poor petitioners speak too! Bacare, you are marvelous forward. PETRUCHIO O, pardon me, Signior Gremio, I would fain be doing. GREMIO I doubt it not, sir. But you will curse your wooing. [To Baptista.] Neighbor, 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, disguised as Cambio] that hath been long studying 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. BAPTISTA A thousand thanks, Signior Gremio.--Welcome, good Cambio. [To Tranio as Lucentio.] But, gentle sir, methinks you walk like a stranger. May I be so bold to know the cause of your coming? TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Pardon me, sir, the boldness is mine own, That being a stranger in this city here Do make myself a suitor to your daughter, Unto Bianca, fair and virtuous. Nor is your firm resolve unknown to me, In the preferment of the eldest sister. This liberty is all that I request, That, upon knowledge of my parentage, I may have welcome 'mongst the rest that woo And free access and favor as the rest. And toward the education of your daughters I here bestow a simple instrument And this small packet of Greek and Latin books. [Biondello comes forward with the gifts.] If you accept them, then their worth is great. BAPTISTA Lucentio is your name. Of whence, I pray? TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Of Pisa, sir, son to Vincentio. BAPTISTA A mighty man of Pisa. By report I know him well. You are very welcome, sir. [To Hortensio as Litio.] Take you the lute, [To Lucentio as Cambio.] 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 These are their tutors. Bid them use them well. [Servant exits with Hortensio and Lucentio.] 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. PETRUCHIO 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 bettered rather than decreased. Then tell me, if I get your daughter's love, What dowry shall I have with her to wife? BAPTISTA After my death, the one half of my lands, And, in possession, twenty thousand crowns. PETRUCHIO 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. BAPTISTA Ay, when the special thing is well obtained, That is, her love, for that is all in all. PETRUCHIO Why, that is nothing. For I tell you, father, I am as peremptory as she proud-minded; And where two raging fires meet together, They do consume the thing that feeds their fury. Though little fire grows great with 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. BAPTISTA Well mayst thou woo, and happy be thy speed. But be thou armed for some unhappy words. PETRUCHIO Ay, to the proof, as mountains are for winds, That shakes not, though they blow perpetually. [Enter Hortensio as Litio with his head broke.] BAPTISTA How now, my friend, why dost thou look so pale? HORTENSIO, [as Litio] For fear, I promise you, if I look pale. BAPTISTA What, will my daughter prove a good musician? HORTENSIO, [as Litio] I think she'll sooner prove a soldier! Iron may hold with her, but never lutes. BAPTISTA Why, then thou canst not break her to the lute? HORTENSIO, [as Litio] Why, no, for she hath broke the lute to me. I did but tell her she mistook her frets, And bowed her hand to teach her fingering, When, with a most impatient devilish spirit, " 'Frets' call you these?" quoth she. "I'll 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, As had she studied to misuse me so. PETRUCHIO Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench. I love her ten times more than ere I did. O, how I long to have some chat with her! BAPTISTA, [to Hortensio as Litio] 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? PETRUCHIO I pray you do. I'll attend her here-- [All but Petruchio exit.] And woo her with some spirit when she comes! Say that she rail, why then I'll tell her plain She sings as sweetly as a nightingale. Say that she frown, I'll say she looks as clear As morning roses newly washed with dew. Say she be mute and will not speak a word, Then I'll commend her volubility And say she uttereth piercing eloquence. If she do bid me pack, I'll give her thanks As though she bid me stay by her a week. If she deny to wed, I'll crave the day When I shall ask the banns, and when be married. But here she comes--and now, Petruchio, speak. [Enter Katherine.] Good morrow, Kate, for that's your name, I hear. KATHERINE Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing. They call me Katherine that do talk of me. PETRUCHIO You lie, in faith, for you are called plain Kate, And bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the curst. But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom, Kate of Kate Hall, my super-dainty Kate (For dainties are all Kates)--and therefore, Kate, 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. KATHERINE "Moved," in good time! Let him that moved you hither Remove you hence. I knew you at the first You were a movable. PETRUCHIO Why, what's a movable? KATHERINE A joint stool. PETRUCHIO Thou hast hit it. Come, sit on me. KATHERINE Asses are made to bear, and so are you. PETRUCHIO Women are made to bear, and so are you. KATHERINE No such jade as you, if me you mean. PETRUCHIO Alas, good Kate, I will not burden thee, For knowing thee to be but young and light-- KATHERINE Too light for such a swain as you to catch, And yet as heavy as my weight should be. PETRUCHIO "Should be"--should buzz! KATHERINE Well ta'en, and like a buzzard. PETRUCHIO O slow-winged turtle, shall a buzzard take thee? KATHERINE Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard. PETRUCHIO Come, come, you wasp! I' faith, you are too angry. KATHERINE If I be waspish, best beware my sting. PETRUCHIO My remedy is then to pluck it out. KATHERINE Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies. PETRUCHIO Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting? In his tail. KATHERINE In his tongue. PETRUCHIO Whose tongue? KATHERINE Yours, if you talk of tales, and so farewell. PETRUCHIO What, with my tongue in your tail? Nay, come again, good Kate. I am a gentleman-- KATHERINE That I'll try. [She strikes him.] PETRUCHIO I swear I'll cuff you if you strike again. KATHERINE So may you lose your arms. If you strike me, you are no gentleman, And if no gentleman, why then no arms. PETRUCHIO A herald, Kate? O, put me in thy books. KATHERINE What is your crest? A coxcomb? PETRUCHIO A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen. KATHERINE No cock of mine. You crow too like a craven. PETRUCHIO Nay, come, Kate, come. You must not look so sour. KATHERINE It is my fashion when I see a crab. PETRUCHIO Why, here's no crab, and therefore look not sour. KATHERINE There is, there is. PETRUCHIO Then show it me. KATHERINE Had I a glass, I would. PETRUCHIO What, you mean my face? KATHERINE Well aimed of such a young one. PETRUCHIO Now, by Saint George, I am too young for you. KATHERINE Yet you are withered. PETRUCHIO 'Tis with cares. KATHERINE I care not. PETRUCHIO Nay, hear you, Kate--in sooth, you 'scape not so. KATHERINE I chafe you if I tarry. Let me go. PETRUCHIO 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, But slow in speech, yet sweet as springtime flowers. Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look askance, Nor bite the lip as angry wenches will, 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 sland'rous world! Kate like the hazel twig Is straight, and slender, and as brown in hue As hazelnuts, and sweeter than the kernels. O, let me see thee walk! Thou dost not halt. KATHERINE Go, fool, and whom thou keep'st command. PETRUCHIO Did ever Dian so become a grove 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. KATHERINE Where did you study all this goodly speech? PETRUCHIO It is extempore, from my mother wit. KATHERINE A witty mother, witless else her son. PETRUCHIO Am I not wise? KATHERINE Yes, keep you warm. PETRUCHIO Marry, so I mean, sweet Katherine, in thy bed. And therefore, setting all this chat aside, 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 Conformable as other household Kates. [Enter Baptista, Gremio, and Tranio as Lucentio.] Here comes your father. Never make denial. I must and will have Katherine to my wife. BAPTISTA Now, Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my daughter? PETRUCHIO How but well, sir? How but well? It were impossible I should speed amiss. BAPTISTA Why, how now, daughter Katherine? In your dumps? KATHERINE Call you me daughter? Now I promise you You have showed a tender fatherly regard, To wish me wed to one half lunatic, A madcap ruffian and a swearing Jack, That thinks with oaths to face the matter out. PETRUCHIO Father, 'tis thus: yourself and all the world That talked of her have talked 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. KATHERINE I'll see thee hanged on Sunday first. GREMIO Hark, Petruchio, she says she'll see thee hanged first. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Is this your speeding? Nay, then, goodnight our part. PETRUCHIO Be patient, gentlemen. I choose her for myself. If she and I be pleased, what's that to you? 'Tis bargained '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 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. I will be sure my Katherine shall be fine. BAPTISTA I know not what to say, but give me your hands. God send you joy, Petruchio. 'Tis a match. GREMIO and TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Amen, say we. We will be witnesses. PETRUCHIO 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. [Petruchio and Katherine exit through different doors.] GREMIO Was ever match clapped up so suddenly? BAPTISTA Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant's part And venture madly on a desperate mart. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] 'Twas a commodity lay fretting by you. 'Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas. BAPTISTA The gain I seek, is quiet in the match. GREMIO 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 neighbor and was suitor first. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] And I am one that love Bianca more Than words can witness or your thoughts can guess. GREMIO Youngling, thou canst not love so dear as I. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Graybeard, thy love doth freeze. GREMIO But thine doth fry! Skipper, stand back. 'Tis age that nourisheth. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] But youth in ladies' eyes that flourisheth. BAPTISTA 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? GREMIO First, as you know, my house within the city Is richly furnished with plate and gold, Basins and ewers to lave her dainty hands; My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry; In ivory coffers I have stuffed my crowns, In cypress chests my arras counterpoints, Costly apparel, tents, and canopies, Fine linen, Turkey cushions bossed with pearl, Valance of Venice gold in needlework, Pewter and brass, and all things that belongs To house or housekeeping. Then, at my farm I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail, Six score fat oxen standing in my stalls, And all things answerable to this portion. Myself am struck in years, I must confess, And if I die tomorrow this is hers, If whilst I live she will be only mine. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] That "only" came well in. [To Baptista.] Sir, list to me: I am my father's heir and only son. If I may have your daughter to my wife, I'll leave her houses three or four as good, Within rich Pisa walls, as any one Old Signior Gremio has in Padua, Besides two thousand ducats by the year Of fruitful land, all which shall be her jointure.-- What, have I pinched you, Signior Gremio? GREMIO Two thousand ducats by the year of land? [Aside.] My land amounts not to so much in all.-- That she shall have, besides an argosy That now is lying in Marcellus' road. [To Tranio.] What, have I choked you with an argosy? TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Gremio, 'tis known my father hath no less Than three great argosies, besides two galliasses And twelve tight galleys. These I will assure her, And twice as much whate'er thou off'rest next. GREMIO Nay, I have offered all. I have no more, And she can have no more than all I have. [To Baptista.] If you like me, she shall have me and mine. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Why, then, the maid is mine from all the world, By your firm promise. Gremio is outvied. BAPTISTA I must confess your offer is the best, And, let your father make her the assurance, She is your own; else, you must pardon me. If you should die before him, where's her dower? TRANIO, [as Lucentio] That's but a cavil. He is old, I young. GREMIO And may not young men die as well as old? BAPTISTA Well, gentlemen, I am thus resolved: On Sunday next, you know My daughter Katherine is to be married. [To Tranio as Lucentio.] Now, on the Sunday following, shall Bianca Be bride to you, if you make this assurance. If not, to Signior Gremio. And so I take my leave, and thank you both. GREMIO Adieu, good neighbor. [Baptista exits.] 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. [Gremio exits.] TRANIO A vengeance on your crafty withered 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, called "supposed Vincentio"-- 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. [He exits.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Lucentio as Cambio, Hortensio as Litio, and Bianca.] LUCENTIO, [as Cambio] Fiddler, forbear. You grow too forward, sir. Have you so soon forgot the entertainment Her sister Katherine welcomed you withal? HORTENSIO, [as Litio] 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. LUCENTIO, [as Cambio] Preposterous ass, that never read so far To know the cause why music was ordained. 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. HORTENSIO, [as Litio] Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine. BIANCA 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'll not be tied to hours, nor 'pointed times, But learn my lessons as I please myself. And, to cut off all strife, here sit we down. [To Hortensio.] Take you your instrument, play you the whiles; His lecture will be done ere you have tuned. HORTENSIO, [as Litio] You'll leave his lecture when I am in tune? LUCENTIO, [aside] That will be never. [To Hortensio.] Tune your instrument. [Hortensio steps aside to tune his lute.] BIANCA Where left we last? LUCENTIO, [as Cambio] Here, madam: [Showing her a book.] Hic ibat Simois, hic est Sigeia tellus, Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis. BIANCA Conster them. LUCENTIO Hic ibat, as I told you before, Simois, I am Lucentio, hic est, son unto Vincentio of Pisa, Sigeia tellus, disguised thus to get your love, Hic 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. HORTENSIO, [as Litio] Madam, my instrument's in tune. BIANCA Let's hear. [He plays.] Oh fie, the treble jars! LUCENTIO, [as Cambio] Spit in the hole, man, and tune again. [Hortensio tunes his lute again.] BIANCA Now let me see if I can conster it. Hic ibat Simois, I know you not; hic est Sigeia tellus, I trust you not; Hic steterat Priami, take heed he hear us not; regia, presume not; celsa senis, despair not. HORTENSIO, [as Litio] Madam, 'tis now in tune. [He plays again.] LUCENTIO, [as Cambio] All but the bass. HORTENSIO, [as Litio] The bass 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'll watch you better yet. BIANCA, [to Lucentio] In time I may believe, yet I mistrust. LUCENTIO Mistrust it not, for sure Aeacides Was Ajax, called so from his grandfather. BIANCA I must believe my master; else, I promise you, I should be arguing still upon that doubt. But let it rest.--Now, Litio, to you. Good master, take it not unkindly, pray, That I have been thus pleasant with you both. HORTENSIO, [as Litio, to Lucentio] You may go walk, and give me leave awhile. My lessons make no music in three parts. LUCENTIO, [as Cambio] Are you so formal, sir? Well, I must wait [Aside.] And watch withal, for, but I be deceived, Our fine musician groweth amorous. [He steps aside.] HORTENSIO, [as Litio] 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. BIANCA Why, I am past my gamut long ago. HORTENSIO Yet read the gamut of Hortensio. [Giving her a paper.] BIANCA [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 To change true rules for odd inventions. [Enter a Servant.] SERVANT Mistress, your father prays you leave your books And help to dress your sister's chamber up. You know tomorrow is the wedding day. BIANCA Farewell, sweet masters both. I must be gone. LUCENTIO Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to stay. [Bianca, the Servant, and Lucentio exit.] HORTENSIO 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 wand'ring eyes on every stale, Seize thee that list! If once I find thee ranging, Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing. [He exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Baptista, Gremio, Tranio as Lucentio, Katherine, Bianca, Lucentio as Cambio, and others, Attendants.] BAPTISTA, [to Tranio] Signior Lucentio, this is the 'pointed day That Katherine and Petruchio should be married, And yet we hear not of our son-in-law. 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? KATHERINE 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, Who wooed in haste and means to wed at leisure. I told you, I, he was a frantic fool, Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behavior, And, to be noted for a merry man, He'll woo a thousand, 'point the day of marriage, Make friends, invite, and proclaim the banns, Yet never means to wed where he hath wooed. Now must the world point at poor Katherine And say "Lo, there is mad Petruchio's wife, If it would please him come and marry her." TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Patience, good Katherine, 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. KATHERINE Would Katherine had never seen him, though! [She exits weeping.] BAPTISTA 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 humor. [Enter Biondello.] BIONDELLO Master, master, news! And such old news as you never heard of! BAPTISTA Is it new and old too? How may that be? BIONDELLO Why, is it not news to hear of Petruchio's coming? BAPTISTA Is he come? BIONDELLO Why, no, sir. BAPTISTA What then? BIONDELLO He is coming. BAPTISTA When will he be here? BIONDELLO When he stands where I am, and sees you there. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] But say, what to thine old news? BIONDELLO 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 armory, 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 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-checked bit and a headstall of sheep's leather, which, being restrained to keep him from stumbling, hath been often burst, and now repaired with knots; one girth six times pieced, and a woman's crupper of velour, which hath two letters for her name fairly set down in studs, and here and there pieced with packthread. BAPTISTA Who comes with him? BIONDELLO Oh, 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 humor of forty fancies pricked in 't for a feather. A monster, a very monster in apparel, and not like a Christian footboy or a gentleman's lackey. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] 'Tis some odd humor pricks him to this fashion, Yet oftentimes he goes but mean-appareled. BAPTISTA I am glad he's come, howsoe'er he comes. BIONDELLO Why, sir, he comes not. BAPTISTA Didst thou not say he comes? BIONDELLO Who? That Petruchio came? BAPTISTA Ay, that Petruchio came! BIONDELLO No, sir, I say his horse comes with him on his back. BAPTISTA Why, that's all one. BIONDELLO 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.] PETRUCHIO Come, where be these gallants? Who's at home? BAPTISTA You are welcome, sir. PETRUCHIO And yet I come not well. BAPTISTA And yet you halt not. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Not so well appareled as I wish you were. PETRUCHIO Were it better I should rush in thus-- But where is Kate? Where is my lovely bride? How does my father? Gentles, methinks you frown. And wherefore gaze this goodly company As if they saw some wondrous monument, Some comet or unusual prodigy? BAPTISTA 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, An eyesore to our solemn festival. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] And tell us what occasion of import Hath all so long detained you from your wife And sent you hither so unlike yourself. PETRUCHIO 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 with all. But where is Kate? I stay too long from her. The morning wears. 'Tis time we were at church. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] See not your bride in these unreverent robes. Go to my chamber, put on clothes of mine. PETRUCHIO Not I, believe me. Thus I'll visit her. BAPTISTA But thus, I trust, you will not marry her. PETRUCHIO 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. But what a fool am I to chat with you When I should bid good morrow to my bride And seal the title with a lovely kiss! [Petruchio exits, with Grumio.] TRANIO, [as Lucentio] He hath some meaning in his mad attire. We will persuade him, be it possible, To put on better ere he go to church. BAPTISTA I'll after him, and see the event of this. [All except Tranio and Lucentio exit.] TRANIO But, sir, to love concerneth us to add Her father's liking, which to bring to pass, As I before imparted to your Worship, 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. LUCENTIO Were it not that my fellow schoolmaster Doth watch Bianca's steps so narrowly, 'Twere good, methinks, to steal our marriage, Which, once performed, let all the world say no, I'll keep mine own despite of all the world. TRANIO That by degrees we mean to look into, And watch our vantage in this business. We'll overreach the graybeard, Gremio, The narrow prying father, Minola, The quaint musician, amorous Litio, All for my master's sake, Lucentio. [Enter Gremio.] TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Signior Gremio, came you from the church? GREMIO As willingly as e'er I came from school. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] And is the bride and bridegroom coming home? GREMIO A bridegroom, say you? 'Tis a groom indeed, A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall find. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Curster than she? Why, 'tis impossible. GREMIO Why, he's a devil, a devil, a very fiend. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Why, she's a devil, a devil, the devil's dam. GREMIO Tut, she's a lamb, a dove, a fool to him. I'll tell you, Sir Lucentio: when the priest Should ask if Katherine should be his wife, "Ay, by gog's wouns!" quoth he, and swore so loud That, all amazed, the priest let fall the book, And as he stooped again to take it up, This mad-brained 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." TRANIO, [as Lucentio] What said the wench when he rose again? GREMIO Trembled and shook, for why he stamped 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 He had been aboard, carousing to his mates After a storm; quaffed off the muscatel And threw the sops all in the sexton's face, Having no other reason But that his beard grew thin and hungerly, And seemed to ask him sops as he was drinking. This done, he took the bride about the neck And kissed her lips with such a clamorous smack That at the parting all the church did echo. And I, seeing this, came thence for very shame, And after me I know the rout is coming. Such a mad marriage never was before! [Music plays.] Hark, hark, I hear the minstrels play. [Enter Petruchio, Katherine, Bianca, Hortensio, Baptista, Grumio, and Attendants.] PETRUCHIO Gentlemen and friends, I thank you for your pains. I know you think to dine with me today 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. BAPTISTA Is 't possible you will away tonight? PETRUCHIO I must away today, before night come. 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. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Let us entreat you stay till after dinner. PETRUCHIO It may not be. GREMIO Let me entreat you. PETRUCHIO It cannot be. KATHERINE Let me entreat you. PETRUCHIO I am content. KATHERINE Are you content to stay? PETRUCHIO I am content you shall entreat me stay, But yet not stay, entreat me how you can. KATHERINE Now, if you love me, stay. PETRUCHIO Grumio, my horse. GRUMIO Ay, sir, they be ready; the oats have eaten the horses. KATHERINE Nay, then, Do what thou canst, I will not go today, No, nor tomorrow, not till I please myself. The door is open, sir. There lies your way. You may be jogging whiles your boots are green. For me, I'll not be gone till I please myself. 'Tis like you'll prove a jolly surly groom, That take it on you at the first so roundly. PETRUCHIO O Kate, content thee. Prithee, be not angry. KATHERINE I will be angry. What hast thou to do?-- Father, be quiet. He shall stay my leisure. GREMIO Ay, marry, sir, now it begins to work. KATHERINE Gentlemen, forward to the bridal dinner. I see a woman may be made a fool If she had not a spirit to resist. PETRUCHIO 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, My household stuff, my field, my barn, My horse, my ox, my ass, my anything. 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. [Petruchio and Katherine exit, with Grumio.] BAPTISTA Nay, let them go. A couple of quiet ones! GREMIO Went they not quickly, I should die with laughing. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Of all mad matches never was the like. LUCENTIO, [as Cambio] Mistress, what's your opinion of your sister? BIANCA That being mad herself, she's madly mated. GREMIO I warrant him, Petruchio is Kated. BAPTISTA Neighbors and friends, though bride and bridegroom wants For to supply the places at the table, You know there wants no junkets at the feast. [To Tranio.] Lucentio, you shall supply the bridegroom's place, And let Bianca take her sister's room. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Shall sweet Bianca practice how to bride it? BAPTISTA, [to Tranio] She shall, Lucentio. Come, gentlemen, let's go. [They exit.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Grumio.] GRUMIO 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 taller man than I will take cold.--Holla, ho, Curtis! [Enter Curtis.] CURTIS Who is that calls so coldly? GRUMIO 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! CURTIS Is my master and his wife coming, Grumio? GRUMIO Oh, ay, Curtis, ay, and therefore fire, fire! Cast on no water. CURTIS Is she so hot a shrew as she's reported? GRUMIO She was, good Curtis, before this frost. But thou know'st winter tames man, woman, and beast, for it hath tamed my old master and my new mistress and myself, fellow Curtis. CURTIS Away, you three-inch fool, I am no beast! GRUMIO 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) thou shalt soon feel, to thy cold comfort, for being slow in thy hot office? CURTIS I prithee, good Grumio, tell me, how goes the world? GRUMIO 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. CURTIS There's fire ready. And therefore, good Grumio, the news! GRUMIO Why, "Jack boy, ho boy!" and as much news as wilt thou. CURTIS Come, you are so full of cony-catching. GRUMIO Why, therefore fire, for I have caught extreme cold. Where's the cook? Is supper ready, the house trimmed, rushes strewed, cobwebs swept, the servingmen in their new fustian, their white stockings, and every officer his wedding garment on? Be the Jacks fair within, the Jills fair without, the carpets laid, and everything in order? CURTIS All ready. And therefore, I pray thee, news. GRUMIO First, know my horse is tired, my master and mistress fallen out. CURTIS How? GRUMIO Out of their saddles into the dirt, and thereby hangs a tale. CURTIS Let's ha' t, good Grumio. GRUMIO Lend thine ear. CURTIS Here. GRUMIO There! [He slaps Curtis on the ear.] CURTIS This 'tis to feel a tale, not to hear a tale. GRUMIO And therefore 'tis called a sensible tale. And this cuff was but to knock at your ear and beseech list'ning. Now I begin: Imprimis, we came down a foul hill, my master riding behind my mistress-- CURTIS Both of one horse? GRUMIO What's that to thee? CURTIS Why, a horse. GRUMIO Tell thou the tale! But hadst thou not crossed me, thou shouldst have heard how her horse fell, and she under her horse; thou shouldst have heard in how miry a place, how she was 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 unexperienced to thy grave. CURTIS By this reck'ning, he is more shrew than she. GRUMIO 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, Phillip, Walter, Sugarsop, and the rest. Let their heads be slickly 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 till they kiss their hands. Are they all ready? CURTIS They are. GRUMIO Call them forth. CURTIS, [calling out] Do you hear, ho? You must meet my master to countenance my mistress. GRUMIO Why, she hath a face of her own. CURTIS Who knows not that? GRUMIO Thou, it seems, that calls for company to countenance her. CURTIS I call them forth to credit her. GRUMIO Why, she comes to borrow nothing of them. [Enter four or five Servingmen.] NATHANIEL Welcome home, Grumio. PHILLIP How now, Grumio? JOSEPH What, Grumio! NICHOLAS Fellow Grumio! NATHANIEL How now, old lad? GRUMIO 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? NATHANIEL All things is ready. How near is our master? GRUMIO E'en at hand, alighted by this. And therefore be not--Cock's passion, silence! I hear my master. [Enter Petruchio and Katherine.] PETRUCHIO Where be these knaves? What, no man at door To hold my stirrup nor to take my horse? Where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Phillip? ALL THE SERVANTS Here! Here, sir, here, sir! PETRUCHIO "Here, sir! Here, sir! Here, sir! Here, sir!" You loggerheaded and unpolished grooms. What? No attendance? No regard? No duty? Where is the foolish knave I sent before? GRUMIO Here, sir, as foolish as I was before. PETRUCHIO 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? GRUMIO Nathaniel's coat, sir, was not fully made, And Gabriel's pumps were all unpinked i' th' heel. There was no link to color Peter's hat, And Walter's dagger was not come from sheathing. There were none fine but Adam, Rafe, and Gregory. The rest were ragged, old, and beggarly. Yet, as they are, here are they come to meet you. PETRUCHIO Go, rascals, go, and fetch my supper in! [The Servants exit.] [Sings.] Where is the life that late I led? Where are those-- Sit down, Kate, and welcome. [They sit at a table.] Soud, soud, soud, soud! [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 gray, As he forth walked on his way-- [Servant begins to remove Petruchio's boots.] Out, you rogue! You pluck my foot awry. Take that! [He hits the Servant.] And mend the plucking of the other.-- Be merry, Kate.--Some water here! What ho! [Enter one with water.] Where's my spaniel Troilus? Sirrah, get you hence And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither. [A Servant exits.] One, Kate, that you must kiss and be acquainted with.-- Where are my slippers? Shall I have some water?-- Come, Kate, and wash, and welcome heartily.-- You whoreson villain, will you let it fall? [He hits the Servant.] KATHERINE Patience, I pray you, 'twas a fault unwilling. PETRUCHIO A whoreson beetle-headed flap-eared 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? FIRST SERVANT Ay. PETRUCHIO Who brought it? PETER I. PETRUCHIO '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! [He throws the food and dishes at them.] You heedless joltheads and unmannered slaves! What, do you grumble? I'll be with you straight. [The Servants exit.] KATHERINE I pray you, husband, be not so disquiet. The meat was well, if you were so contented. PETRUCHIO 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. Be patient. Tomorrow 't shall be mended, And for this night we'll fast for company. Come, I will bring thee to thy bridal chamber. [They exit.] [Enter Servants severally.] NATHANIEL Peter, didst ever see the like? PETER He kills her in her own humor. [Enter Curtis.] GRUMIO Where is he? CURTIS In her chamber, Making a sermon of continency to her, And rails and swears and rates, that she (poor soul) Knows not which way to stand, to look, to speak, And sits as one new-risen from a dream. Away, away, for he is coming hither! [The Servants exit.] [Enter Petruchio.] PETRUCHIO 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 That bate and beat and will not be obedient. She ate no meat today, nor none shall eat. Last night she slept not, nor tonight 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, And, if she chance to nod, I'll rail and brawl, And with the clamor keep her still awake. This is a way to kill a wife with kindness. And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong humor. He that knows better how to tame a shrew, Now let him speak; 'tis charity to shew. [He exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Tranio as Lucentio and Hortensio as Litio.] TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Is 't possible, friend Litio, that mistress Bianca Doth fancy any other but Lucentio? I tell you, sir, she bears me fair in hand. HORTENSIO, [as Litio] Sir, to satisfy you in what I have said, Stand by, and mark the manner of his teaching. [They stand aside.] [Enter Bianca and Lucentio as Cambio.] LUCENTIO, [as Cambio] Now mistress, profit you in what you read? BIANCA What, master, read you? First resolve me that. LUCENTIO, [as Cambio] I read that I profess, The Art to Love. BIANCA And may you prove, sir, master of your art. LUCENTIO, [as Cambio] While you, sweet dear, prove mistress of my heart. [They move aside and kiss and talk.] HORTENSIO, [as Litio] Quick proceeders, marry! Now tell me, I pray, You that durst swear that your mistress Bianca Loved none in the world so well as Lucentio. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] O despiteful love, unconstant womankind! I tell thee, Litio, this is wonderful! HORTENSIO Mistake no more. I am not Litio, 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. Know, sir, that I am called Hortensio. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] 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 forever. HORTENSIO 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 favors That I have fondly flattered her withal. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] 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! HORTENSIO 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. Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks, Shall win my love, and so I take my leave, In resolution as I swore before. [Hortensio exits;] [Bianca and Lucentio come forward.] TRANIO 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. BIANCA Tranio, you jest. But have you both forsworn me? TRANIO Mistress, we have. LUCENTIO Then we are rid of Litio. TRANIO I' faith, he'll have a lusty widow now That shall be wooed and wedded in a day. BIANCA God give him joy. TRANIO Ay, and he'll tame her. BIANCA He says so, Tranio? TRANIO Faith, he is gone unto the taming school. BIANCA The taming school? What, is there such a place? TRANIO Ay, mistress, and Petruchio is the master, That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long To tame a shrew and charm her chattering tongue. [Enter Biondello.] BIONDELLO O master, master, I have watched so long That I am dog-weary, but at last I spied An ancient angel coming down the hill Will serve the turn. TRANIO What is he, Biondello? BIONDELLO Master, a marcantant, or a pedant, I know not what, but formal in apparel, In gait and countenance surely like a father. LUCENTIO And what of him, Tranio? TRANIO If he be credulous, and trust my tale, I'll make him glad to seem Vincentio And give assurance to Baptista Minola As if he were the right Vincentio. Take in your love, and then let me alone. [Lucentio and Bianca exit.] [Enter a Merchant.] MERCHANT God save you, sir. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] And you, sir. You are welcome. Travel you far on, or are you at the farthest? MERCHANT 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. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] What countryman, I pray? MERCHANT Of Mantua. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Of Mantua, sir? Marry, God forbid! And come to Padua, careless of your life? MERCHANT My life, sir? How, I pray? For that goes hard. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] 'Tis death for anyone in Mantua To come to Padua. Know you not the cause? Your ships are stayed at Venice, and the Duke, For private quarrel 'twixt your duke and him, Hath published and proclaimed it openly. 'Tis marvel, but that you are but newly come, You might have heard it else proclaimed about. MERCHANT Alas, sir, it is worse for me than so, For I have bills for money by exchange From Florence, and must here deliver them. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] 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? MERCHANT Ay, sir, in Pisa have I often been, Pisa renowned for grave citizens. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Among them know you one Vincentio? MERCHANT I know him not, but I have heard of him: A merchant of incomparable wealth. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] He is my father, sir, and sooth to say, In count'nance somewhat doth resemble you. BIONDELLO, [aside] As much as an apple doth an oyster, and all one. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] To save your life in this extremity, This favor 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. If this be court'sy, sir, accept of it. MERCHANT O sir, I do, and will repute you ever The patron of my life and liberty. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Then go with me, to make the matter good. This, by the way, I let you understand: My father is here looked for every day To pass assurance of a dower in marriage 'Twixt me and one Baptista's daughter here. In all these circumstances I'll instruct you. Go with me to clothe you as becomes you. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Katherine and Grumio.] GRUMIO No, no, forsooth, I dare not for my life. KATHERINE 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. 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. GRUMIO What say you to a neat's foot? KATHERINE 'Tis passing good. I prithee let me have it. GRUMIO I fear it is too choleric a meat. How say you to a fat tripe finely broiled? KATHERINE I like it well. Good Grumio, fetch it me. GRUMIO I cannot tell. I fear 'tis choleric. What say you to a piece of beef and mustard? KATHERINE A dish that I do love to feed upon. GRUMIO Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little. KATHERINE Why then, the beef, and let the mustard rest. GRUMIO Nay then, I will not. You shall have the mustard Or else you get no beef of Grumio. KATHERINE Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt. GRUMIO Why then, the mustard without the beef. KATHERINE Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave, [She beats him.] That feed'st me with the very name of meat. Sorrow on thee, and all the pack of you That triumph thus upon my misery. Go, get thee gone, I say. [Enter Petruchio and Hortensio with meat.] PETRUCHIO How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, all amort? HORTENSIO Mistress, what cheer? KATHERINE Faith, as cold as can be. PETRUCHIO Pluck up thy spirits. Look cheerfully upon me. Here, love, thou seest how diligent I am, To dress thy meat myself and bring it thee. I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks. What, not a word? Nay then, thou lov'st it not, And all my pains is sorted to no proof. Here, take away this dish. KATHERINE I pray you, let it stand. PETRUCHIO The poorest service is repaid with thanks, And so shall mine before you touch the meat. KATHERINE I thank you, sir. HORTENSIO Signior Petruchio, fie, you are to blame. Come, Mistress Kate, I'll bear you company. PETRUCHIO, [aside to Hortensio] Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lovest me.-- Much good do it unto thy gentle heart. Kate, eat apace. [Katherine and Hortensio prepare to eat.] 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 farthingales and things, With scarves and fans and double change of brav'ry, With amber bracelets, beads, and all this knav'ry. What, hast thou dined? The tailor stays thy leisure To deck thy body with his ruffling treasure. [Enter Tailor.] Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments. Lay forth the gown. [Enter Haberdasher.] What news with you, sir? HABERDASHER Here is the cap your Worship did bespeak. PETRUCHIO Why, this was molded 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. KATHERINE I'll have no bigger. This doth fit the time, And gentlewomen wear such caps as these. PETRUCHIO When you are gentle, you shall have one too, And not till then. HORTENSIO, [aside] That will not be in haste. KATHERINE 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. PETRUCHIO Why, thou sayst true. It is a paltry cap, A custard-coffin, a bauble, a silken pie. I love thee well in that thou lik'st it not. KATHERINE Love me, or love me not, I like the cap, And it I will have, or I will have none. [Exit Haberdasher.] PETRUCHIO Thy gown? Why, ay. Come, tailor, let us see 't. O mercy God, what masking-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, Like to a censer in a barber's shop. Why, what a devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this? HORTENSIO, [aside] I see she's like to have neither cap nor gown. TAILOR You bid me make it orderly and well, According to the fashion and the time. PETRUCHIO Marry, and did. But if you be remembered, I 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. KATHERINE I never saw a better-fashioned gown, More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable. Belike you mean to make a puppet of me. PETRUCHIO Why, true, he means to make a puppet of thee. TAILOR She says your Worship means to make a puppet of her. PETRUCHIO 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! 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 liv'st. I tell thee, I, that thou hast marred her gown. TAILOR Your Worship is deceived. The gown is made Just as my master had direction. Grumio gave order how it should be done. GRUMIO I gave him no order. I gave him the stuff. TAILOR But how did you desire it should be made? GRUMIO Marry, sir, with needle and thread. TAILOR But did you not request to have it cut? GRUMIO Thou hast faced many things. TAILOR I have. GRUMIO 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. TAILOR Why, here is the note of the fashion to testify. [He shows a paper.] PETRUCHIO Read it. GRUMIO The note lies in 's throat, if he say I said so. TAILOR [reads] "Imprimis, a loose-bodied gown--" GRUMIO 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." PETRUCHIO Proceed. TAILOR [reads] "With a small-compassed cape--" GRUMIO I confess the cape. TAILOR [reads] "With a trunk sleeve--" GRUMIO I confess two sleeves. TAILOR [reads] "The sleeves curiously cut." PETRUCHIO Ay, there's the villainy. GRUMIO Error i' th' bill, sir, error i' th' bill! I commanded 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. TAILOR This is true that I say. An I had thee in place where, thou shouldst know it. GRUMIO I am for thee straight. Take thou the bill, give me thy mete-yard, and spare not me. HORTENSIO God-a-mercy, Grumio, then he shall have no odds. PETRUCHIO Well, sir, in brief, the gown is not for me. GRUMIO You are i' th' right, sir, 'tis for my mistress. PETRUCHIO Go, take it up unto thy master's use. GRUMIO Villain, not for thy life! Take up my mistress' gown for thy master's use! PETRUCHIO Why, sir, what's your conceit in that? GRUMIO O, sir, the conceit is deeper than you think for. Take up my mistress' gown to his master's use! O, fie, fie, fie! PETRUCHIO, [aside to Hortensio] Hortensio, say thou wilt see the tailor paid. [To Tailor.] Go, take it hence. Begone, and say no more. HORTENSIO, [aside to Tailor] Tailor, I'll pay thee for thy gown tomorrow. Take no unkindness of his hasty words. Away, I say. Commend me to thy master. [Tailor exits.] PETRUCHIO Well, come, my Kate, we will unto your father's, 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 honor 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 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. [To Grumio.] 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. KATHERINE I dare assure you, sir, 'tis almost two, And 'twill be supper time ere you come there. PETRUCHIO 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 today, and, ere I do, It shall be what o'clock I say it is. HORTENSIO, [aside] Why, so, this gallant will command the sun! [They exit.] Scene 4 ======= [Enter Tranio as Lucentio, and the Merchant, booted, and dressed like Vincentio.] TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Sir, this is the house. Please it you that I call? MERCHANT 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. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] 'Tis well. And hold your own in any case With such austerity as 'longeth to a father. MERCHANT I warrant you. [Enter Biondello.] But, sir, here comes your boy. 'Twere good he were schooled. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Fear you not him.--Sirrah Biondello, Now do your duty throughly, I advise you. Imagine 'twere the right Vincentio. BIONDELLO Tut, fear not me. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] But hast thou done thy errand to Baptista? BIONDELLO I told him that your father was at Venice, And that you looked for him this day in Padua. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Thou 'rt a tall fellow. Hold thee that to drink. [He gives him money.] [Enter Baptista and Lucentio as Cambio.] Here comes Baptista. Set your countenance, sir. [Merchant stands bareheaded.] TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Signior Baptista, you are happily met.-- Sir, this is the gentleman I told you of. I pray you stand good father to me now. Give me Bianca for my patrimony. MERCHANT, [as Vincentio] 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, I am content, in a good father's care, To have him matched. 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 bestowed, For curious I cannot be with you, Signior Baptista, of whom I hear so well. BAPTISTA Sir, pardon me in what I have to say. Your plainness and your shortness please me well. Right true it is your son Lucentio here Doth love my daughter, and she loveth him, Or both dissemble deeply their 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. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] 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? BAPTISTA Not in my house, Lucentio, for you know Pitchers have ears, and I have many servants. Besides, old Gremio is heark'ning still, And happily we might be interrupted. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] 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. [He indicates Lucentio, and winks at him.] My boy shall fetch the scrivener presently. The worst is this: that at so slender warning You are like to have a thin and slender pittance. BAPTISTA 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. [Lucentio exits.] BIONDELLO I pray the gods she may, with all my heart. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Dally not with the gods, but get thee gone.-- Signior Baptista, shall I lead the way? Welcome! One mess is like to be your cheer. Come, sir, we will better it in Pisa. BAPTISTA I follow you. [All but Biondello exit.] [Enter Lucentio.] BIONDELLO Cambio. LUCENTIO What sayst thou, Biondello? BIONDELLO You saw my master wink and laugh upon you? LUCENTIO Biondello, what of that? BIONDELLO Faith, nothing; but 'has left me here behind to expound the meaning or moral of his signs and tokens. LUCENTIO I pray thee, moralize them. BIONDELLO Then thus: Baptista is safe, talking with the deceiving father of a deceitful son. LUCENTIO And what of him? BIONDELLO His daughter is to be brought by you to the supper. LUCENTIO And then? BIONDELLO The old priest at Saint Luke's Church is at your command at all hours. LUCENTIO And what of all this? BIONDELLO I cannot tell, except they are busied about a counterfeit assurance. Take you assurance of her cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum. To th' 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 forever and a day. LUCENTIO Hear'st thou, Biondello? BIONDELLO 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 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. [He exits.] LUCENTIO I may, and will, if she be so contented. She will be pleased. Then wherefore should I doubt? Hap what hap may, I'll roundly go about her. It shall go hard if "Cambio" go without her. [He exits.] Scene 5 ======= [Enter Petruchio, Katherine, Hortensio, and Servants.] PETRUCHIO Come on, i' God's name, once more toward our father's. Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the moon! KATHERINE The moon? The sun! It is not moonlight now. PETRUCHIO I say it is the moon that shines so bright. KATHERINE I know it is the sun that shines so bright. PETRUCHIO Now, by my mother's son, and that's myself, It shall be moon, or star, or what I list, Or e'er I journey to your father's house. [To Servants.] Go on, and fetch our horses back again.-- Evermore crossed and crossed, nothing but crossed! HORTENSIO, [to Katherine] Say as he says, or we shall never go. KATHERINE 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. PETRUCHIO I say it is the moon. KATHERINE I know it is the moon. PETRUCHIO Nay, then you lie. It is the blessed sun. KATHERINE Then God be blest, it is the blessed sun. But sun it is not, when you say it is not, And the moon changes even as your mind. What you will have it named, even that it is, And so it shall be so for Katherine. HORTENSIO Petruchio, go thy ways, the field is won. PETRUCHIO Well, forward, forward. Thus the bowl should run, And not unluckily against the bias. But soft! Company is coming here. [Enter Vincentio.] [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! 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. HORTENSIO, [aside] He will make the man mad, to make the woman of him. KATHERINE 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 favorable stars Allots thee for his lovely bedfellow. PETRUCHIO Why, how now, Kate? I hope thou art not mad! This is a man--old, wrinkled, faded, withered-- And not a maiden, as thou sayst he is. KATHERINE Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes That have been so bedazzled with the sun That everything I look on seemeth green. Now I perceive thou art a reverend father. Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking. PETRUCHIO Do, good old grandsire, and withal make known Which way thou travelest. If along with us, We shall be joyful of thy company. VINCENTIO Fair sir, and you, my merry mistress, That with your strange encounter much amazed me, My name is called Vincentio, my dwelling Pisa, And bound I am to Padua, there to visit A son of mine which long I have not seen. PETRUCHIO What is his name? VINCENTIO Lucentio, gentle sir. PETRUCHIO Happily met, the happier for thy son. And now by law as well as reverend age, I may entitle thee my loving father. The sister to my wife, this gentlewoman, 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. VINCENTIO But is this true, or is it else your pleasure, Like pleasant travelers, to break a jest Upon the company you overtake? HORTENSIO I do assure thee, father, so it is. PETRUCHIO Come, go along and see the truth hereof, For our first merriment hath made thee jealous. [All but Hortensio exit.] HORTENSIO 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. [He exits.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Biondello, Lucentio as himself, and Bianca. Gremio is out before and stands to the side.] BIONDELLO Softly and swiftly, sir, for the priest is ready. LUCENTIO I fly, Biondello. But they may chance to need thee at home. Therefore leave us. [Lucentio exits with Bianca.] BIONDELLO Nay, faith, I'll see the church a' your back, and then come back to my master's as soon as I can. [He exits.] GREMIO I marvel Cambio comes not all this while. [Enter Petruchio, Katherine, Vincentio, Grumio, with Attendants.] PETRUCHIO Sir, here's the door. This is Lucentio's house. My father's bears more toward the marketplace. Thither must I, and here I leave you, sir. VINCENTIO 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. [He knocks.] GREMIO, [coming forward] They're busy within. You were best knock louder. [Merchant looks out of the window.] MERCHANT, [as Vincentio] What's he that knocks as he would beat down the gate? VINCENTIO Is Signior Lucentio within, sir? MERCHANT, [as Vincentio] He's within, sir, but not to be spoken withal. VINCENTIO What if a man bring him a hundred pound or two to make merry withal? MERCHANT, [as Vincentio] Keep your hundred pounds to yourself. He shall need none so long as I live. PETRUCHIO, [to Vincentio] 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. MERCHANT, [as Vincentio] Thou liest. His father is come from Padua and here looking out at the window. VINCENTIO Art thou his father? MERCHANT, [as Vincentio] Ay, sir, so his mother says, if I may believe her. PETRUCHIO, [to Vincentio] Why, how now, gentleman! Why, this is flat knavery, to take upon you another man's name. MERCHANT, [as Vincentio] Lay hands on the villain. I believe he means to cosen somebody in this city under my countenance. [Enter Biondello.] BIONDELLO, [aside] I have seen them in the church together. God send 'em good shipping! But who is here? Mine old master Vincentio! Now we are undone and brought to nothing. VINCENTIO, [to Biondello] Come hither, crack-hemp. BIONDELLO I hope I may choose, sir. VINCENTIO Come hither, you rogue! What, have you forgot me? BIONDELLO Forgot you? No, sir. I could not forget you, for I never saw you before in all my life. VINCENTIO What, you notorious villain, didst thou never see thy master's father, Vincentio? BIONDELLO What, my old worshipful old master? Yes, marry, sir. See where he looks out of the window. VINCENTIO Is 't so indeed? [He beats Biondello.] BIONDELLO Help, help, help! Here's a madman will murder me. [Biondello exits.] MERCHANT, [as Vincentio] Help, son! Help, Signior Baptista! [He exits from window.] PETRUCHIO Prithee, Kate, let's stand aside and see the end of this controversy. [They move aside.] [Enter Merchant with Servants, and Baptista and Tranio disguised as Lucentio.] TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Sir, what are you that offer to beat my servant? VINCENTIO What am I, sir? Nay, what are you, sir! O immortal gods! O fine villain! A silken doublet, a velvet hose, a scarlet cloak, and a copatain 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. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] How now, what's the matter? BAPTISTA What, is the man lunatic? TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Sir, you seem a sober ancient gentleman by your 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. VINCENTIO Thy father! O villain, he is a sailmaker in Bergamo. BAPTISTA You mistake, sir, you mistake, sir! Pray, what do you think is his name? VINCENTIO His name? As if I knew not his name! I have brought him up ever since he was three years old, and his name is Tranio. MERCHANT, [as Vincentio] Away, away, mad ass! His name is Lucentio and he is mine only son, and heir to the lands of me, Signior Vincentio. VINCENTIO 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? TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Call forth an officer. [Enter an Officer.] Carry this mad knave to the jail.--Father Baptista, I charge you see that he be forthcoming. VINCENTIO Carry me to the jail? GREMIO Stay, officer. He shall not go to prison. BAPTISTA Talk not, Signior Gremio. I say he shall go to prison. GREMIO Take heed, Signior Baptista, lest you be cony-catched in this business. I dare swear this is the right Vincentio. MERCHANT, [as Vincentio] Swear, if thou dar'st. GREMIO Nay, I dare not swear it. TRANIO, [as Lucentio] Then thou wert best say that I am not Lucentio. GREMIO Yes, I know thee to be Signior Lucentio. BAPTISTA Away with the dotard, to the jail with him. VINCENTIO Thus strangers may be haled and abused.-- O monstrous villain! [Enter Biondello, Lucentio and Bianca.] BIONDELLO O, we are spoiled, and yonder he is! Deny him, forswear him, or else we are all undone. [Biondello, Tranio, and Merchant exit as fast as may be.] LUCENTIO Pardon, sweet father. [Lucentio and Bianca kneel.] VINCENTIO Lives my sweet son? BIANCA Pardon, dear father. BAPTISTA How hast thou offended? Where is Lucentio? LUCENTIO Here's Lucentio, Right son to the right Vincentio, That have by marriage made thy daughter mine While counterfeit supposes bleared thine eyne. GREMIO Here's packing, with a witness, to deceive us all! VINCENTIO Where is that damned villain, Tranio, That faced and braved me in this matter so? BAPTISTA Why, tell me, is not this my Cambio? BIANCA Cambio is changed into Lucentio. LUCENTIO Love wrought these miracles. Bianca's love Made me exchange my state with Tranio, While he did bear my countenance in the town, And happily I have 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. VINCENTIO I'll slit the villain's nose that would have sent me to the jail! BAPTISTA But do you hear, sir, have you married my daughter without asking my goodwill? VINCENTIO Fear not, Baptista, we will content you. Go to! But I will in to be revenged for this villainy. [He exits.] BAPTISTA And I to sound the depth of this knavery. [He exits.] LUCENTIO Look not pale, Bianca. Thy father will not frown. [They exit.] GREMIO My cake is dough, but I'll in among the rest, Out of hope of all but my share of the feast. [He exits.] KATHERINE Husband, let's follow to see the end of this ado. PETRUCHIO First kiss me, Kate, and we will. KATHERINE What, in the midst of the street? PETRUCHIO What, art thou ashamed of me? KATHERINE No, sir, God forbid, but ashamed to kiss. PETRUCHIO Why, then, let's home again. [To Grumio.] Come, sirrah, let's away. KATHERINE Nay, I will give thee a kiss. [She kisses him.] Now pray thee, love, stay. PETRUCHIO Is not this well? Come, my sweet Kate. Better once than never, for never too late. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Baptista, Vincentio, Gremio, the Merchant, Lucentio, and Bianca; Hortensio and the Widow, Petruchio and Katherine; Tranio, Biondello, and Grumio, with Servingmen bringing in a banquet.] LUCENTIO 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 selfsame kindness welcome thine. Brother Petruchio, sister Katherina, 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. [They sit.] PETRUCHIO Nothing but sit and sit, and eat and eat! BAPTISTA Padua affords this kindness, son Petruchio. PETRUCHIO Padua affords nothing but what is kind. HORTENSIO For both our sakes I would that word were true. PETRUCHIO Now, for my life, Hortensio fears his widow! WIDOW Then never trust me if I be afeard. PETRUCHIO You are very sensible, and yet you miss my sense: I mean Hortensio is afeard of you. WIDOW He that is giddy thinks the world turns round. PETRUCHIO Roundly replied. KATHERINE Mistress, how mean you that? WIDOW Thus I conceive by him. PETRUCHIO Conceives by me? How likes Hortensio that? HORTENSIO My widow says, thus she conceives her tale. PETRUCHIO Very well mended. Kiss him for that, good widow. KATHERINE "He that is giddy thinks the world turns round"-- I pray you tell me what you meant by that. WIDOW Your husband being troubled with a shrew Measures my husband's sorrow by his woe. And now you know my meaning. KATHERINE A very mean meaning. WIDOW Right, I mean you. KATHERINE And I am mean indeed, respecting you. PETRUCHIO To her, Kate! HORTENSIO To her, widow! PETRUCHIO A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down. HORTENSIO That's my office. PETRUCHIO Spoke like an officer! Ha' to thee, lad. [He drinks to Hortensio.] BAPTISTA How likes Gremio these quick-witted folks? GREMIO Believe me, sir, they butt together well. BIANCA Head and butt! An hasty-witted body Would say your head and butt were head and horn. VINCENTIO Ay, mistress bride, hath that awakened you? BIANCA Ay, but not frighted me. Therefore I'll sleep again. PETRUCHIO Nay, that you shall not. Since you have begun, Have at you for a bitter jest or two. BIANCA Am I your bird? I mean to shift my bush, And then pursue me as you draw your bow.-- You are welcome all. [Bianca, Katherine, and the Widow exit.] PETRUCHIO She hath prevented me. Here, Signior Tranio, This bird you aimed at, though you hit her not.-- Therefore a health to all that shot and missed. TRANIO O, sir, Lucentio slipped me like his greyhound, Which runs himself and catches for his master. PETRUCHIO A good swift simile, but something currish. TRANIO 'Tis well, sir, that you hunted for yourself. 'Tis thought your deer does hold you at a bay. BAPTISTA O, O, Petruchio! Tranio hits you now. LUCENTIO I thank thee for that gird, good Tranio. HORTENSIO Confess, confess! Hath he not hit you here? PETRUCHIO He has a little galled me, I confess. And as the jest did glance away from me, 'Tis ten to one it maimed you two outright. BAPTISTA Now, in good sadness, son Petruchio, I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all. PETRUCHIO 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. HORTENSIO Content, what's the wager? LUCENTIO Twenty crowns. PETRUCHIO Twenty crowns? I'll venture so much of my hawk or hound, But twenty times so much upon my wife. LUCENTIO A hundred, then. HORTENSIO Content. PETRUCHIO A match! 'Tis done. HORTENSIO Who shall begin? LUCENTIO That will I. Go, Biondello, bid your mistress come to me. BIONDELLO I go. [He exits.] BAPTISTA Son, I'll be your half Bianca comes. LUCENTIO I'll have no halves. I'll bear it all myself. [Enter Biondello.] How now, what news? BIONDELLO Sir, my mistress sends you word That she is busy, and she cannot come. PETRUCHIO How? "She's busy, and she cannot come"? Is that an answer? GREMIO Ay, and a kind one, too. Pray God, sir, your wife send you not a worse. PETRUCHIO I hope better. HORTENSIO Sirrah Biondello, go and entreat my wife To come to me forthwith. [Biondello exits.] PETRUCHIO O ho, entreat her! Nay, then, she must needs come. HORTENSIO I am afraid, sir, Do what you can, yours will not be entreated. [Enter Biondello.] Now, where's my wife? BIONDELLO She says you have some goodly jest in hand. She will not come. She bids you come to her. PETRUCHIO Worse and worse. She will not come! O vile, intolerable, not to be endured!-- Sirrah Grumio, go to your mistress, Say I command her come to me. [Grumio exits.] HORTENSIO I know her answer. PETRUCHIO What? HORTENSIO She will not. PETRUCHIO The fouler fortune mine, and there an end. [Enter Katherine.] BAPTISTA Now by my holidam, here comes Katherina! KATHERINE What is your will, sir, that you send for me? PETRUCHIO Where is your sister, and Hortensio's wife? KATHERINE They sit conferring by the parlor fire. PETRUCHIO 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. [Katherine exits.] LUCENTIO Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder. HORTENSIO And so it is. I wonder what it bodes. PETRUCHIO 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. BAPTISTA Now fair befall thee, good Petruchio! 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. PETRUCHIO Nay, I will win my wager better yet, And show more sign of her obedience, Her new-built virtue and obedience. [Enter Katherine, Bianca, and Widow.] See where she comes, and brings your froward wives As prisoners to her womanly persuasion.-- Katherine, that cap of yours becomes you not. Off with that bauble, throw it underfoot. [She obeys.] WIDOW Lord, let me never have a cause to sigh Till I be brought to such a silly pass. BIANCA Fie, what a foolish duty call you this? LUCENTIO I would your duty were as foolish too. The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca, Hath cost me a hundred crowns since suppertime. BIANCA The more fool you for laying on my duty. PETRUCHIO Katherine, I charge thee tell these headstrong women What duty they do owe their lords and husbands. WIDOW Come, come, you're mocking. We will have no telling. PETRUCHIO Come on, I say, and first begin with her. WIDOW She shall not. PETRUCHIO I say she shall.--And first begin with her. KATHERINE Fie, fie! Unknit that threat'ning 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. 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 labor both by sea and land, To watch the night in storms, the day in cold, 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? I am ashamed that women are so simple To offer war where they should kneel for peace, Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway When they are bound to serve, love, and obey. Why are our bodies soft and weak and smooth, Unapt to toil and trouble in the world, But that our soft conditions and our hearts Should well agree with our external parts? Come, come, you froward and unable worms! My mind hath been as big as one of yours, My heart as great, my reason haply more, To bandy word for word and frown for frown; But now I see our lances are but straws, Our strength as weak, our weakness past 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. PETRUCHIO Why, there's a wench! Come on, and kiss me, Kate. [They kiss.] LUCENTIO Well, go thy ways, old lad, for thou shalt ha 't. VINCENTIO 'Tis a good hearing when children are toward. LUCENTIO But a harsh hearing when women are froward. PETRUCHIO Come, Kate, we'll to bed. We three are married, but you two are sped. [To Lucentio.] 'Twas I won the wager, though you hit the white, And being a winner, God give you good night. [Petruchio and Katherine exit.] HORTENSIO Now, go thy ways, thou hast tamed a curst shrow. LUCENTIO 'Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tamed so. [They exit.]

The Tempest by William Shakespeare Characters in the Play ====================== PROSPERO, the former duke of Milan, now a magician on a Mediterranean island MIRANDA, Prospero's daughter ARIEL, a spirit, servant to Prospero CALIBAN, an inhabitant of the island, servant to Prospero FERDINAND, prince of Naples ALONSO, king of Naples ANTONIO, duke of Milan and Prospero's brother SEBASTIAN, Alonso's brother GONZALO, councillor to Alonso and friend to Prospero Courtiers in attendance on Alonso: ADRIAN FRANCISCO TRINCULO, servant to Alonso STEPHANO, Alonso's butler SHIPMASTER BOATSWAIN MARINERS Players who, as spirits, take the roles of Iris, Ceres, Juno, Nymphs, and Reapers in Prospero's masque, and who, in other scenes, take the roles of "islanders" and of hunting dogs ACT 1 ===== Scene 1 ======= [A tempestuous noise of thunder and lightning heard. Enter a Shipmaster and a Boatswain.] MASTER Boatswain! BOATSWAIN Here, master. What cheer? MASTER Good, speak to th' mariners. Fall to 't yarely, or we run ourselves aground. Bestir, bestir! [He exits.] [Enter Mariners.] BOATSWAIN Heigh, my hearts! Cheerly, cheerly, my hearts! Yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to th' Master's whistle.--Blow till thou burst thy wind, if room enough! [Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Ferdinand, Gonzalo, and others.] ALONSO Good boatswain, have care. Where's the Master? Play the men. BOATSWAIN I pray now, keep below. ANTONIO Where is the Master, boatswain? BOATSWAIN Do you not hear him? You mar our labor. Keep your cabins. You do assist the storm. GONZALO Nay, good, be patient. BOATSWAIN When the sea is. Hence! What cares these roarers for the name of king? To cabin! Silence! Trouble us not. GONZALO Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard. BOATSWAIN None that I more love than myself. You are a councillor; if you can command these elements to silence, and work the peace of the present, we will not hand a rope more. Use your authority. If you cannot, give thanks you have lived so long, and make yourself ready in your cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so hap.--Cheerly, good hearts!--Out of our way, I say! [He exits.] GONZALO I have great comfort from this fellow. Methinks he hath no drowning mark upon him. His complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast, good Fate, to his hanging. Make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own doth little advantage. If he be not born to be hanged, our case is miserable. [He exits with Alonso, Sebastian, and the other courtiers.] [Enter Boatswain.] BOATSWAIN Down with the topmast! Yare! Lower, lower! Bring her to try wi' th' main course. [(A cry within.)] A plague upon this howling! They are louder than the weather or our office. [Enter Sebastian, Antonio, and Gonzalo.] Yet again? What do you here? Shall we give o'er and drown? Have you a mind to sink? SEBASTIAN A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog! BOATSWAIN Work you, then. ANTONIO Hang, cur, hang, you whoreson, insolent noisemaker! We are less afraid to be drowned than thou art. GONZALO I'll warrant him for drowning, though the ship were no stronger than a nutshell and as leaky as an unstanched wench. BOATSWAIN Lay her ahold, ahold! Set her two courses. Off to sea again! Lay her off! [Enter more Mariners, wet.] MARINERS All lost! To prayers, to prayers! All lost! [Mariners exit.] BOATSWAIN What, must our mouths be cold? GONZALO The King and Prince at prayers. Let's assist them, for our case is as theirs. SEBASTIAN I am out of patience. ANTONIO We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards. This wide-chopped rascal--would thou mightst lie drowning the washing of ten tides! [Boatswain exits.] GONZALO He'll be hanged yet, though every drop of water swear against it and gape at wid'st to glut him. [A confused noise within:] "Mercy on us!"--"We split, we split!"--"Farewell, my wife and children!"-- "Farewell, brother!"--"We split, we split, we split!" ANTONIO Let's all sink wi' th' King. SEBASTIAN Let's take leave of him. [He exits with Antonio.] GONZALO Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground: long heath, brown furze, anything. The wills above be done, but I would fain die a dry death. [He exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Prospero and Miranda.] MIRANDA If by your art, my dearest father, you have Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them. The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, But that the sea, mounting to th' welkin's cheek, Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffered With those that I saw suffer! A brave vessel, Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her, Dashed all to pieces. O, the cry did knock Against my very heart! Poor souls, they perished. Had I been any god of power, I would Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere It should the good ship so have swallowed, and The fraughting souls within her. PROSPERO Be collected. No more amazement. Tell your piteous heart There's no harm done. MIRANDA O, woe the day! PROSPERO No harm. I have done nothing but in care of thee, Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who Art ignorant of what thou art, naught knowing Of whence I am, nor that I am more better Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell, And thy no greater father. MIRANDA More to know Did never meddle with my thoughts. PROSPERO 'Tis time I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand And pluck my magic garment from me. [Putting aside his cloak.] So, Lie there, my art.--Wipe thou thine eyes. Have comfort. The direful spectacle of the wrack, which touched The very virtue of compassion in thee, I have with such provision in mine art So safely ordered that there is no soul-- No, not so much perdition as an hair, Betid to any creature in the vessel Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. Sit down, For thou must now know farther. [They sit.] MIRANDA You have often Begun to tell me what I am, but stopped And left me to a bootless inquisition, Concluding "Stay. Not yet." PROSPERO The hour's now come. The very minute bids thee ope thine ear. Obey, and be attentive. Canst thou remember A time before we came unto this cell? I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not Out three years old. MIRANDA Certainly, sir, I can. PROSPERO By what? By any other house or person? Of anything the image tell me that Hath kept with thy remembrance. MIRANDA 'Tis far off And rather like a dream than an assurance That my remembrance warrants. Had I not Four or five women once that tended me? PROSPERO Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else In the dark backward and abysm of time? If thou rememb'rest aught ere thou cam'st here, How thou cam'st here thou mayst. MIRANDA But that I do not. PROSPERO Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since, Thy father was the Duke of Milan and A prince of power. MIRANDA Sir, are not you my father? PROSPERO Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and She said thou wast my daughter. And thy father Was Duke of Milan, and his only heir And princess no worse issued. MIRANDA O, the heavens! What foul play had we that we came from thence? Or blessed was 't we did? PROSPERO Both, both, my girl. By foul play, as thou sayst, were we heaved thence, But blessedly holp hither. MIRANDA O, my heart bleeds To think o' th' teen that I have turned you to, Which is from my remembrance. Please you, farther. PROSPERO My brother and thy uncle, called Antonio-- I pray thee, mark me--that a brother should Be so perfidious!--he whom next thyself Of all the world I loved, and to him put The manage of my state, as at that time Through all the signories it was the first, And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed In dignity, and for the liberal arts Without a parallel. Those being all my study, The government I cast upon my brother And to my state grew stranger, being transported And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle-- Dost thou attend me? MIRANDA Sir, most heedfully. PROSPERO Being once perfected how to grant suits, How to deny them, who t' advance, and who To trash for overtopping, new created The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed 'em, Or else new formed 'em, having both the key Of officer and office, set all hearts i' th' state To what tune pleased his ear, that now he was The ivy which had hid my princely trunk And sucked my verdure out on 't. Thou attend'st not. MIRANDA O, good sir, I do. PROSPERO I pray thee, mark me. I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated To closeness and the bettering of my mind With that which, but by being so retired, O'erprized all popular rate, in my false brother Awaked an evil nature, and my trust, Like a good parent, did beget of him A falsehood in its contrary as great As my trust was, which had indeed no limit, A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded, Not only with what my revenue yielded But what my power might else exact, like one Who, having into truth by telling of it, Made such a sinner of his memory To credit his own lie, he did believe He was indeed the Duke, out o' th' substitution And executing th' outward face of royalty With all prerogative. Hence, his ambition growing-- Dost thou hear? MIRANDA Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. PROSPERO To have no screen between this part he played And him he played it for, he needs will be Absolute Milan. Me, poor man, my library Was dukedom large enough. Of temporal royalties He thinks me now incapable; confederates, So dry he was for sway, wi' th' King of Naples To give him annual tribute, do him homage, Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend The dukedom, yet unbowed--alas, poor Milan!-- To most ignoble stooping. MIRANDA O, the heavens! PROSPERO Mark his condition and th' event. Then tell me If this might be a brother. MIRANDA I should sin To think but nobly of my grandmother. Good wombs have borne bad sons. PROSPERO Now the condition. This King of Naples, being an enemy To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit, Which was that he, in lieu o' th' premises Of homage and I know not how much tribute, Should presently extirpate me and mine Out of the dukedom, and confer fair Milan, With all the honors, on my brother; whereon, A treacherous army levied, one midnight Fated to th' purpose did Antonio open The gates of Milan, and i' th' dead of darkness The ministers for th' purpose hurried thence Me and thy crying self. MIRANDA Alack, for pity! I, not rememb'ring how I cried out then, Will cry it o'er again. It is a hint That wrings mine eyes to 't. PROSPERO Hear a little further, And then I'll bring thee to the present business Which now 's upon 's, without the which this story Were most impertinent. MIRANDA Wherefore did they not That hour destroy us? PROSPERO Well demanded, wench. My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not, So dear the love my people bore me, nor set A mark so bloody on the business, but With colors fairer painted their foul ends. In few, they hurried us aboard a bark, Bore us some leagues to sea, where they prepared A rotten carcass of a butt, not rigged, Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats Instinctively have quit it. There they hoist us To cry to th' sea that roared to us, to sigh To th' winds, whose pity, sighing back again, Did us but loving wrong. MIRANDA Alack, what trouble Was I then to you! PROSPERO O, a cherubin Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile, Infused with a fortitude from heaven, When I have decked the sea with drops full salt, Under my burden groaned, which raised in me An undergoing stomach to bear up Against what should ensue. MIRANDA How came we ashore? PROSPERO By providence divine. Some food we had, and some fresh water, that A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, Out of his charity, who being then appointed Master of this design, did give us, with Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries, Which since have steaded much. So, of his gentleness, Knowing I loved my books, he furnished me From mine own library with volumes that I prize above my dukedom. MIRANDA Would I might But ever see that man. PROSPERO, [standing] Now I arise. Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. Here in this island we arrived, and here Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit Than other princes can, that have more time For vainer hours and tutors not so careful. MIRANDA Heavens thank you for 't. And now I pray you, sir-- For still 'tis beating in my mind--your reason For raising this sea storm? PROSPERO Know thus far forth: By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune, Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies Brought to this shore; and by my prescience I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions. Thou art inclined to sleep. 'Tis a good dullness, And give it way. I know thou canst not choose. [Miranda falls asleep.] [Prospero puts on his cloak.] Come away, servant, come. I am ready now. Approach, my Ariel. Come. [Enter Ariel.] ARIEL All hail, great master! Grave sir, hail! I come To answer thy best pleasure. Be 't to fly, To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride On the curled clouds, to thy strong bidding task Ariel and all his quality. PROSPERO Hast thou, spirit, Performed to point the tempest that I bade thee? ARIEL To every article. I boarded the King's ship; now on the beak, Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin, I flamed amazement. Sometimes I'd divide And burn in many places. On the topmast, The yards, and bowsprit would I flame distinctly, Then meet and join. Jove's lightning, the precursors O' th' dreadful thunderclaps, more momentary And sight-outrunning were not. The fire and cracks Of sulfurous roaring the most mighty Neptune Seem to besiege and make his bold waves tremble, Yea, his dread trident shake. PROSPERO My brave spirit! Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil Would not infect his reason? ARIEL Not a soul But felt a fever of the mad, and played Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners Plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel, Then all afire with me. The King's son, Ferdinand, With hair up-staring--then like reeds, not hair-- Was the first man that leaped; cried "Hell is empty, And all the devils are here." PROSPERO Why, that's my spirit! But was not this nigh shore? ARIEL Close by, my master. PROSPERO But are they, Ariel, safe? ARIEL Not a hair perished. On their sustaining garments not a blemish, But fresher than before; and, as thou bad'st me, In troops I have dispersed them 'bout the isle. The King's son have I landed by himself, Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting, His arms in this sad knot. [He folds his arms.] PROSPERO Of the King's ship, The mariners say how thou hast disposed, And all the rest o' th' fleet. ARIEL Safely in harbor Is the King's ship. In the deep nook, where once Thou called'st me up at midnight to fetch dew From the still-vexed Bermoothes, there she's hid; The mariners all under hatches stowed, Who, with a charm joined to their suffered labor, I have left asleep. And for the rest o' th' fleet, Which I dispersed, they all have met again And are upon the Mediterranean float, Bound sadly home for Naples, Supposing that they saw the King's ship wracked And his great person perish. PROSPERO Ariel, thy charge Exactly is performed. But there's more work. What is the time o' th' day? ARIEL Past the mid season. PROSPERO At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six and now Must by us both be spent most preciously. ARIEL Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains, Let me remember thee what thou hast promised, Which is not yet performed me. PROSPERO How now? Moody? What is 't thou canst demand? ARIEL My liberty. PROSPERO Before the time be out? No more. ARIEL I prithee, Remember I have done thee worthy service, Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, served Without or grudge or grumblings. Thou did promise To bate me a full year. PROSPERO Dost thou forget From what a torment I did free thee? ARIEL No. PROSPERO Thou dost, and think'st it much to tread the ooze Of the salt deep, To run upon the sharp wind of the North, To do me business in the veins o' th' Earth When it is baked with frost. ARIEL I do not, sir. PROSPERO Thou liest, malignant thing. Hast thou forgot The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy Was grown into a hoop? Hast thou forgot her? ARIEL No, sir. PROSPERO Thou hast. Where was she born? Speak. Tell me. ARIEL Sir, in Argier. PROSPERO O, was she so? I must Once in a month recount what thou hast been, Which thou forget'st. This damned witch Sycorax, For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible To enter human hearing, from Argier, Thou know'st, was banished. For one thing she did They would not take her life. Is not this true? ARIEL Ay, sir. PROSPERO This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child And here was left by th' sailors. Thou, my slave, As thou report'st thyself, was then her servant, And for thou wast a spirit too delicate To act her earthy and abhorred commands, Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee, By help of her more potent ministers And in her most unmitigable rage, Into a cloven pine, within which rift Imprisoned thou didst painfully remain A dozen years; within which space she died And left thee there, where thou didst vent thy groans As fast as mill wheels strike. Then was this island (Save for the son that she did litter here, A freckled whelp, hag-born) not honored with A human shape. ARIEL Yes, Caliban, her son. PROSPERO Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st What torment I did find thee in. Thy groans Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts Of ever-angry bears. It was a torment To lay upon the damned, which Sycorax Could not again undo. It was mine art, When I arrived and heard thee, that made gape The pine and let thee out. ARIEL I thank thee, master. PROSPERO If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak And peg thee in his knotty entrails till Thou hast howled away twelve winters. ARIEL Pardon, master. I will be correspondent to command And do my spriting gently. PROSPERO Do so, and after two days I will discharge thee. ARIEL That's my noble master. What shall I do? Say, what? What shall I do? PROSPERO Go make thyself like a nymph o' th' sea. Be subject To no sight but thine and mine, invisible To every eyeball else. Go, take this shape, And hither come in 't. Go, hence with diligence! [Ariel exits.] Awake, dear heart, awake. Thou hast slept well. Awake. [Miranda wakes.] MIRANDA The strangeness of your story put Heaviness in me. PROSPERO Shake it off. Come on, We'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never Yields us kind answer. MIRANDA, [rising] 'Tis a villain, sir, I do not love to look on. PROSPERO But, as 'tis, We cannot miss him. He does make our fire, Fetch in our wood, and serves in offices That profit us.--What ho, slave, Caliban! Thou earth, thou, speak! CALIBAN, [within] There's wood enough within. PROSPERO Come forth, I say. There's other business for thee. Come, thou tortoise. When? [Enter Ariel like a water nymph.] Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel, Hark in thine ear. [He whispers to Ariel.] ARIEL My lord, it shall be done. [He exits.] PROSPERO, [to Caliban] Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself Upon thy wicked dam, come forth! [Enter Caliban.] CALIBAN As wicked dew as e'er my mother brushed With raven's feather from unwholesome fen Drop on you both. A southwest blow on you And blister you all o'er. PROSPERO For this, be sure, tonight thou shalt have cramps, Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up. Urchins Shall forth at vast of night that they may work All exercise on thee. Thou shalt be pinched As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made 'em. CALIBAN I must eat my dinner. This island's mine by Sycorax, my mother, Which thou tak'st from me. When thou cam'st first, Thou strok'st me and made much of me, wouldst give me Water with berries in 't, and teach me how To name the bigger light and how the less, That burn by day and night. And then I loved thee, And showed thee all the qualities o' th' isle, The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place and fertile. Cursed be I that did so! All the charms Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you, For I am all the subjects that you have, Which first was mine own king; and here you sty me In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me The rest o' th' island. PROSPERO Thou most lying slave, Whom stripes may move, not kindness, I have used thee, Filth as thou art, with humane care, and lodged thee In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate The honor of my child. CALIBAN O ho, O ho! Would 't had been done! Thou didst prevent me. I had peopled else This isle with Calibans. MIRANDA Abhorred slave, Which any print of goodness wilt not take, Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour One thing or other. When thou didst not, savage, Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like A thing most brutish, I endowed thy purposes With words that made them known. But thy vile race, Though thou didst learn, had that in 't which good natures Could not abide to be with. Therefore wast thou Deservedly confined into this rock, Who hadst deserved more than a prison. CALIBAN You taught me language, and my profit on 't Is I know how to curse. The red plague rid you For learning me your language! PROSPERO Hagseed, hence! Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou 'rt best, To answer other business. Shrugg'st thou, malice? If thou neglect'st or dost unwillingly What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps, Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar That beasts shall tremble at thy din. CALIBAN No, pray thee. [Aside.] I must obey. His art is of such power It would control my dam's god, Setebos, And make a vassal of him. PROSPERO So, slave, hence. [Caliban exits.] [Enter Ferdinand; and Ariel, invisible, playing and singing.] Song. ARIEL Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands. Curtsied when you have, and kissed The wild waves whist. Foot it featly here and there, And sweet sprites bear The burden. Hark, hark! [Burden dispersedly, within:] Bow-wow. The watchdogs bark. [Burden dispersedly, within:] Bow-wow. Hark, hark! I hear The strain of strutting chanticleer Cry cock-a-diddle-dow. FERDINAND Where should this music be? I' th' air, or th' earth? It sounds no more; and sure it waits upon Some god o' th' island. Sitting on a bank, Weeping again the King my father's wrack, This music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury and my passion With its sweet air. Thence I have followed it, Or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone. No, it begins again. Song. ARIEL Full fathom five thy father lies. Of his bones are coral made. Those are pearls that were his eyes. Nothing of him that doth fade But doth suffer a sea change Into something rich and strange. Sea nymphs hourly ring his knell. [Burden, within:] Ding dong. Hark, now I hear them: ding dong bell. FERDINAND The ditty does remember my drowned father. This is no mortal business, nor no sound That the Earth owes. I hear it now above me. PROSPERO, [to Miranda] The fringed curtains of thine eye advance And say what thou seest yond. MIRANDA What is 't? A spirit? Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit. PROSPERO No, wench, it eats and sleeps and hath such senses As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest Was in the wrack; and, but he's something stained With grief--that's beauty's canker--thou might'st call him A goodly person. He hath lost his fellows And strays about to find 'em. MIRANDA I might call him A thing divine, for nothing natural I ever saw so noble. PROSPERO, [aside] It goes on, I see, As my soul prompts it. [To Ariel.] Spirit, fine spirit, I'll free thee Within two days for this. FERDINAND, [seeing Miranda] Most sure, the goddess On whom these airs attend!--Vouchsafe my prayer May know if you remain upon this island, And that you will some good instruction give How I may bear me here. My prime request, Which I do last pronounce, is--O you wonder!-- If you be maid or no. MIRANDA No wonder, sir, But certainly a maid. FERDINAND My language! Heavens! I am the best of them that speak this speech, Were I but where 'tis spoken. PROSPERO How? The best? What wert thou if the King of Naples heard thee? FERDINAND A single thing, as I am now, that wonders To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me, And that he does I weep. Myself am Naples, Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld The King my father wracked. MIRANDA Alack, for mercy! FERDINAND Yes, faith, and all his lords, the Duke of Milan And his brave son being twain. PROSPERO, [aside] The Duke of Milan And his more braver daughter could control thee, If now 'twere fit to do 't. At the first sight They have changed eyes.--Delicate Ariel, I'll set thee free for this. [To Ferdinand.] A word, good sir. I fear you have done yourself some wrong. A word. MIRANDA Why speaks my father so ungently? This Is the third man that e'er I saw, the first That e'er I sighed for. Pity move my father To be inclined my way. FERDINAND O, if a virgin, And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you The Queen of Naples. PROSPERO Soft, sir, one word more. [Aside.] They are both in either's powers. But this swift business I must uneasy make, lest too light winning Make the prize light. [To Ferdinand.] One word more. I charge thee That thou attend me. Thou dost here usurp The name thou ow'st not, and hast put thyself Upon this island as a spy, to win it From me, the lord on 't. FERDINAND No, as I am a man! MIRANDA There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple. If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Good things will strive to dwell with 't. PROSPERO, [to Ferdinand] Follow me. [To Miranda.] Speak not you for him. He's a traitor. [To Ferdinand.] Come, I'll manacle thy neck and feet together. Sea water shalt thou drink. Thy food shall be The fresh-brook mussels, withered roots, and husks Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow. FERDINAND No, I will resist such entertainment till Mine enemy has more power. [He draws, and is charmed from moving.] MIRANDA O dear father, Make not too rash a trial of him, for He's gentle and not fearful. PROSPERO What, I say, My foot my tutor?--Put thy sword up, traitor, Who mak'st a show, but dar'st not strike, thy conscience Is so possessed with guilt. Come from thy ward, For I can here disarm thee with this stick And make thy weapon drop. MIRANDA Beseech you, father-- PROSPERO Hence! Hang not on my garments. MIRANDA Sir, have pity. I'll be his surety. PROSPERO Silence! One word more Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What, An advocate for an impostor? Hush. Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he, Having seen but him and Caliban. Foolish wench, To th' most of men this is a Caliban, And they to him are angels. MIRANDA My affections Are then most humble. I have no ambition To see a goodlier man. PROSPERO, [to Ferdinand] Come on, obey. Thy nerves are in their infancy again And have no vigor in them. FERDINAND So they are. My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. My father's loss, the weakness which I feel, The wrack of all my friends, nor this man's threats To whom I am subdued, are but light to me, Might I but through my prison once a day Behold this maid. All corners else o' th' Earth Let liberty make use of. Space enough Have I in such a prison. PROSPERO, [aside] It works.--Come on.-- Thou hast done well, fine Ariel.--Follow me. [To Ariel.] Hark what thou else shalt do me. MIRANDA, [to Ferdinand] Be of comfort. My father's of a better nature, sir, Than he appears by speech. This is unwonted Which now came from him. PROSPERO, [to Ariel] Thou shalt be as free As mountain winds; but then exactly do All points of my command. ARIEL To th' syllable. PROSPERO, [to Ferdinand] Come follow. [To Miranda.] Speak not for him. [They exit.] ACT 2 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco, and others.] GONZALO, [to Alonso] Beseech you, sir, be merry. You have cause-- So have we all--of joy, for our escape Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe Is common; every day some sailor's wife, The masters of some merchant, and the merchant Have just our theme of woe. But for the miracle-- I mean our preservation--few in millions Can speak like us. Then wisely, good sir, weigh Our sorrow with our comfort. ALONSO Prithee, peace. SEBASTIAN, [aside to Antonio] He receives comfort like cold porridge. ANTONIO The visitor will not give him o'er so. SEBASTIAN Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit. By and by it will strike. GONZALO, [to Alonso] Sir-- SEBASTIAN One. Tell. GONZALO When every grief is entertained that's offered, comes to th' entertainer-- SEBASTIAN A dollar. GONZALO Dolor comes to him indeed. You have spoken truer than you purposed. SEBASTIAN You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should. GONZALO, [to Alonso] Therefore, my lord-- ANTONIO Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue. ALONSO, [to Gonzalo] I prithee, spare. GONZALO Well, I have done. But yet-- SEBASTIAN, [aside to Antonio] He will be talking. ANTONIO, [aside to Sebastian] Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first begins to crow? SEBASTIAN The old cock. ANTONIO The cockerel. SEBASTIAN Done. The wager? ANTONIO A laughter. SEBASTIAN A match! ADRIAN Though this island seem to be desert-- ANTONIO Ha, ha, ha. SEBASTIAN So. You're paid. ADRIAN Uninhabitable and almost inaccessible-- SEBASTIAN Yet-- ADRIAN Yet-- ANTONIO He could not miss 't. ADRIAN It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance. ANTONIO Temperance was a delicate wench. SEBASTIAN Ay, and a subtle, as he most learnedly delivered. ADRIAN The air breathes upon us here most sweetly. SEBASTIAN As if it had lungs, and rotten ones. ANTONIO Or as 'twere perfumed by a fen. GONZALO Here is everything advantageous to life. ANTONIO True, save means to live. SEBASTIAN Of that there's none, or little. GONZALO How lush and lusty the grass looks! How green! ANTONIO The ground indeed is tawny. SEBASTIAN With an eye of green in 't. ANTONIO He misses not much. SEBASTIAN No, he doth but mistake the truth totally. GONZALO But the rarity of it is, which is indeed almost beyond credit-- SEBASTIAN As many vouched rarities are. GONZALO That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold notwithstanding their freshness and gloss, being rather new-dyed than stained with salt water. ANTONIO If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say he lies? SEBASTIAN Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report. GONZALO Methinks our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of the King's fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis. SEBASTIAN 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return. ADRIAN Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to their queen. GONZALO Not since widow Dido's time. ANTONIO Widow? A pox o' that! How came that "widow" in? Widow Dido! SEBASTIAN What if he had said "widower Aeneas" too? Good Lord, how you take it! ADRIAN, [to Gonzalo] "Widow Dido," said you? You make me study of that. She was of Carthage, not of Tunis. GONZALO This Tunis, sir, was Carthage. ADRIAN Carthage? GONZALO I assure you, Carthage. ANTONIO His word is more than the miraculous harp. SEBASTIAN He hath raised the wall, and houses too. ANTONIO What impossible matter will he make easy next? SEBASTIAN I think he will carry this island home in his pocket and give it his son for an apple. ANTONIO And sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands. GONZALO Ay. ANTONIO Why, in good time. GONZALO, [to Alonso] Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your daughter, who is now queen. ANTONIO And the rarest that e'er came there. SEBASTIAN Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido. ANTONIO O, widow Dido? Ay, widow Dido. GONZALO, [to Alonso] Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort. ANTONIO That "sort" was well fished for. GONZALO, [to Alonso] When I wore it at your daughter's marriage. ALONSO You cram these words into mine ears against The stomach of my sense. Would I had never Married my daughter there, for coming thence My son is lost, and, in my rate, she too, Who is so far from Italy removed I ne'er again shall see her.--O, thou mine heir Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish Hath made his meal on thee? FRANCISCO Sir, he may live. I saw him beat the surges under him And ride upon their backs. He trod the water, Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted The surge most swoll'n that met him. His bold head 'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oared Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke To th' shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bowed, As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt He came alive to land. ALONSO No, no, he's gone. SEBASTIAN Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss, That would not bless our Europe with your daughter, But rather lose her to an African, Where she at least is banished from your eye, Who hath cause to wet the grief on 't. ALONSO Prithee, peace. SEBASTIAN You were kneeled to and importuned otherwise By all of us; and the fair soul herself Weighed between loathness and obedience at Which end o' th' beam should bow. We have lost your son, I fear, forever. Milan and Naples have More widows in them of this business' making Than we bring men to comfort them. The fault's your own. ALONSO So is the dear'st o' th' loss. GONZALO My lord Sebastian, The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness And time to speak it in. You rub the sore When you should bring the plaster. SEBASTIAN Very well. ANTONIO And most chirurgeonly. GONZALO, [to Alonso] It is foul weather in us all, good sir, When you are cloudy. SEBASTIAN Foul weather? ANTONIO Very foul. GONZALO Had I plantation of this isle, my lord-- ANTONIO He'd sow 't with nettle seed. SEBASTIAN Or docks, or mallows. GONZALO And were the king on 't, what would I do? SEBASTIAN Scape being drunk, for want of wine. GONZALO I' th' commonwealth I would by contraries Execute all things, for no kind of traffic Would I admit; no name of magistrate; Letters should not be known; riches, poverty, And use of service, none; contract, succession, Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none; No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil; No occupation; all men idle, all, And women too, but innocent and pure; No sovereignty-- SEBASTIAN Yet he would be king on 't. ANTONIO The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning. GONZALO All things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavor; treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine Would I not have; but nature should bring forth Of its own kind all foison, all abundance, To feed my innocent people. SEBASTIAN No marrying 'mong his subjects? ANTONIO None, man, all idle: whores and knaves. GONZALO I would with such perfection govern, sir, T' excel the Golden Age. SEBASTIAN 'Save his Majesty! ANTONIO Long live Gonzalo! GONZALO And do you mark me, sir? ALONSO Prithee, no more. Thou dost talk nothing to me. GONZALO I do well believe your Highness, and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs that they always use to laugh at nothing. ANTONIO 'Twas you we laughed at. GONZALO Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to you. So you may continue, and laugh at nothing still. ANTONIO What a blow was there given! SEBASTIAN An it had not fallen flatlong. GONZALO You are gentlemen of brave mettle. You would lift the moon out of her sphere if she would continue in it five weeks without changing. [Enter Ariel invisible, playing solemn music.] SEBASTIAN We would so, and then go a-batfowling. ANTONIO, [to Gonzalo] Nay, good my lord, be not angry. GONZALO No, I warrant you, I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep? For I am very heavy. ANTONIO Go sleep, and hear us. [All sink down asleep except Alonso, Antonio, and Sebastian.] ALONSO What, all so soon asleep? I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts. I find They are inclined to do so. SEBASTIAN Please you, sir, Do not omit the heavy offer of it. It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth, It is a comforter. ANTONIO We two, my lord, Will guard your person while you take your rest, And watch your safety. ALONSO Thank you. Wondrous heavy. [Alonso sleeps. Ariel exits.] SEBASTIAN What a strange drowsiness possesses them! ANTONIO It is the quality o' th' climate. SEBASTIAN Why Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find Not myself disposed to sleep. ANTONIO Nor I. My spirits are nimble. They fell together all, as by consent. They dropped as by a thunderstroke. What might, Worthy Sebastian, O, what might--? No more. And yet methinks I see it in thy face What thou shouldst be. Th' occasion speaks thee, and My strong imagination sees a crown Dropping upon thy head. SEBASTIAN What, art thou waking? ANTONIO Do you not hear me speak? SEBASTIAN I do, and surely It is a sleepy language, and thou speak'st Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say? This is a strange repose, to be asleep With eyes wide open--standing, speaking, moving-- And yet so fast asleep. ANTONIO Noble Sebastian, Thou let'st thy fortune sleep, die rather, wink'st Whiles thou art waking. SEBASTIAN Thou dost snore distinctly. There's meaning in thy snores. ANTONIO I am more serious than my custom. You Must be so too, if heed me; which to do Trebles thee o'er. SEBASTIAN Well, I am standing water. ANTONIO I'll teach you how to flow. SEBASTIAN Do so. To ebb Hereditary sloth instructs me. ANTONIO O, If you but knew how you the purpose cherish Whiles thus you mock it, how in stripping it You more invest it. Ebbing men indeed Most often do so near the bottom run By their own fear or sloth. SEBASTIAN Prithee, say on. The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim A matter from thee, and a birth indeed Which throes thee much to yield. ANTONIO Thus, sir: Although this lord of weak remembrance--this, Who shall be of as little memory When he is earthed--hath here almost persuaded-- For he's a spirit of persuasion, only Professes to persuade--the King his son's alive, 'Tis as impossible that he's undrowned As he that sleeps here swims. SEBASTIAN I have no hope That he's undrowned. ANTONIO O, out of that no hope What great hope have you! No hope that way is Another way so high a hope that even Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond, But doubt discovery there. Will you grant with me That Ferdinand is drowned? SEBASTIAN He's gone. ANTONIO Then tell me, Who's the next heir of Naples? SEBASTIAN Claribel. ANTONIO She that is Queen of Tunis; she that dwells Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from Naples Can have no note, unless the sun were post-- The man i' th' moon's too slow--till newborn chins Be rough and razorable; she that from whom We all were sea-swallowed, though some cast again, And by that destiny to perform an act Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come In yours and my discharge. SEBASTIAN What stuff is this? How say you? 'Tis true my brother's daughter's Queen of Tunis, So is she heir of Naples, 'twixt which regions There is some space. ANTONIO A space whose ev'ry cubit Seems to cry out "How shall that Claribel Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis And let Sebastian wake." Say this were death That now hath seized them, why, they were no worse Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples As well as he that sleeps, lords that can prate As amply and unnecessarily As this Gonzalo. I myself could make A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore The mind that I do, what a sleep were this For your advancement! Do you understand me? SEBASTIAN Methinks I do. ANTONIO And how does your content Tender your own good fortune? SEBASTIAN I remember You did supplant your brother Prospero. ANTONIO True, And look how well my garments sit upon me, Much feater than before. My brother's servants Were then my fellows; now they are my men. SEBASTIAN But, for your conscience? ANTONIO Ay, sir, where lies that? If 'twere a kibe, 'Twould put me to my slipper, but I feel not This deity in my bosom. Twenty consciences That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they And melt ere they molest! Here lies your brother, No better than the earth he lies upon. If he were that which now he's like--that's dead-- Whom I with this obedient steel, three inches of it, Can lay to bed forever; whiles you, doing thus, To the perpetual wink for aye might put This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest, They'll take suggestion as a cat laps milk. They'll tell the clock to any business that We say befits the hour. SEBASTIAN Thy case, dear friend, Shall be my precedent: as thou got'st Milan, I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword. One stroke Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payest, And I the King shall love thee. ANTONIO Draw together, And when I rear my hand, do you the like To fall it on Gonzalo. [They draw their swords.] SEBASTIAN O, but one word. [They talk apart.] [Enter Ariel, invisible, with music and song.] ARIEL, [to the sleeping Gonzalo] My master through his art foresees the danger That you, his friend, are in, and sends me forth-- For else his project dies--to keep them living. [Sings in Gonzalo's ear:] While you here do snoring lie, Open-eyed conspiracy His time doth take. If of life you keep a care, Shake off slumber and beware. Awake, awake! ANTONIO, [to Sebastian] Then let us both be sudden. GONZALO, [waking] Now, good angels preserve the King! [He wakes Alonso.] ALONSO, [to Sebastian] Why, how now, ho! Awake? Why are you drawn? Wherefore this ghastly looking? GONZALO, [to Sebastian] What's the matter? SEBASTIAN Whiles we stood here securing your repose, Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing Like bulls, or rather lions. Did 't not wake you? It struck mine ear most terribly. ALONSO I heard nothing. ANTONIO O, 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear, To make an earthquake. Sure, it was the roar Of a whole herd of lions. ALONSO Heard you this, Gonzalo? GONZALO Upon mine honor, sir, I heard a humming, And that a strange one too, which did awake me. I shaked you, sir, and cried. As mine eyes opened, I saw their weapons drawn. There was a noise, That's verily. 'Tis best we stand upon our guard, Or that we quit this place. Let's draw our weapons. ALONSO Lead off this ground, and let's make further search For my poor son. GONZALO Heavens keep him from these beasts, For he is, sure, i' th' island. ALONSO Lead away. ARIEL, [aside] Prospero my lord shall know what I have done. So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. [They exit.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Caliban with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard.] CALIBAN All the infections that the sun sucks up From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall and make him By inchmeal a disease! His spirits hear me, And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch, Fright me with urchin-shows, pitch me i' th' mire, Nor lead me like a firebrand in the dark Out of my way, unless he bid 'em. But For every trifle are they set upon me, Sometimes like apes, that mow and chatter at me And after bite me; then like hedgehogs, which Lie tumbling in my barefoot way and mount Their pricks at my footfall. Sometime am I All wound with adders, who with cloven tongues Do hiss me into madness. Lo, now, lo! Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me For bringing wood in slowly. I'll fall flat. Perchance he will not mind me. [He lies down and covers himself with a cloak.] [Enter Trinculo.] TRINCULO Here's neither bush nor shrub to bear off any weather at all. And another storm brewing; I hear it sing i' th' wind. Yond same black cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul bombard that would shed his liquor. If it should thunder as it did before, I know not where to hide my head. Yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls. [Noticing Caliban.] What have we here, a man or a fish? Dead or alive? A fish, he smells like a fish--a very ancient and fishlike smell, a kind of not-of-the-newest poor-John. A strange fish. Were I in England now, as once I was, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver. There would this monster make a man. Any strange beast there makes a man. When they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legged like a man, and his fins like arms! Warm, o' my troth! I do now let loose my opinion, hold it no longer: this is no fish, but an islander that hath lately suffered by a thunderbolt. [Thunder.] Alas, the storm is come again. My best way is to creep under his gaberdine. There is no other shelter hereabout. Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. I will here shroud till the dregs of the storm be past. [He crawls under Caliban's cloak.] [Enter Stephano singing.] STEPHANO I shall no more to sea, to sea. Here shall I die ashore-- This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral. Well, here's my comfort. [Drinks.] [Sings.] The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I, The gunner and his mate, Loved Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery, But none of us cared for Kate. For she had a tongue with a tang, Would cry to a sailor "Go hang!" She loved not the savor of tar nor of pitch, Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did itch. Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang! This is a scurvy tune too. But here's my comfort. [Drinks.] CALIBAN Do not torment me! O! STEPHANO What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon 's with savages and men of Ind? Ha? I have not scaped drowning to be afeard now of your four legs, for it hath been said "As proper a man as ever went on four legs cannot make him give ground," and it shall be said so again while Stephano breathes at' nostrils. CALIBAN The spirit torments me. O! STEPHANO This is some monster of the isle with four legs, who hath got, as I take it, an ague. Where the devil should he learn our language? I will give him some relief, if it be but for that. If I can recover him and keep him tame and get to Naples with him, he's a present for any emperor that ever trod on neat's leather. CALIBAN Do not torment me, prithee. I'll bring my wood home faster. STEPHANO He's in his fit now, and does not talk after the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle. If he have never drunk wine afore, it will go near to remove his fit. If I can recover him and keep him tame, I will not take too much for him. He shall pay for him that hath him, and that soundly. CALIBAN Thou dost me yet but little hurt. Thou wilt anon; I know it by thy trembling. Now Prosper works upon thee. STEPHANO Come on your ways. Open your mouth. Here is that which will give language to you, cat. Open your mouth. This will shake your shaking, I can tell you, and that soundly. [Caliban drinks.] You cannot tell who's your friend. Open your chaps again. TRINCULO I should know that voice. It should be--but he is drowned, and these are devils. O, defend me! STEPHANO Four legs and two voices--a most delicate monster! His forward voice now is to speak well of his friend. His backward voice is to utter foul speeches and to detract. If all the wine in my bottle will recover him, I will help his ague. Come. [Caliban drinks.] Amen! I will pour some in thy other mouth. TRINCULO Stephano! STEPHANO Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy, this is a devil, and no monster! I will leave him; I have no long spoon. TRINCULO Stephano! If thou be'st Stephano, touch me and speak to me, for I am Trinculo--be not afeard--thy good friend Trinculo. STEPHANO If thou be'st Trinculo, come forth. I'll pull thee by the lesser legs. If any be Trinculo's legs, these are they. [He pulls him out from under Caliban's cloak.] Thou art very Trinculo indeed. How cam'st thou to be the siege of this mooncalf? Can he vent Trinculos? TRINCULO I took him to be killed with a thunderstroke. But art thou not drowned, Stephano? I hope now thou art not drowned. Is the storm overblown? I hid me under the dead mooncalf's gaberdine for fear of the storm. And art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans scaped! STEPHANO Prithee, do not turn me about. My stomach is not constant. CALIBAN, [aside] These be fine things, an if they be not sprites. That's a brave god and bears celestial liquor. I will kneel to him. [He crawls out from under the cloak.] STEPHANO, [to Trinculo] How didst thou scape? How cam'st thou hither? Swear by this bottle how thou cam'st hither--I escaped upon a butt of sack, which the sailors heaved o'erboard--by this bottle, which I made of the bark of a tree with mine own hands, since I was cast ashore. CALIBAN I'll swear upon that bottle to be thy true subject, for the liquor is not earthly. STEPHANO, [to Trinculo] Here. Swear then how thou escapedst. TRINCULO Swum ashore, man, like a duck. I can swim like a duck, I'll be sworn. STEPHANO Here, kiss the book. [Trinculo drinks.] Though thou canst swim like a duck, thou art made like a goose. TRINCULO O Stephano, hast any more of this? STEPHANO The whole butt, man. My cellar is in a rock by th' seaside, where my wine is hid.--How now, mooncalf, how does thine ague? CALIBAN Hast thou not dropped from heaven? STEPHANO Out o' th' moon, I do assure thee. I was the man i' th' moon when time was. CALIBAN I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee. My mistress showed me thee, and thy dog, and thy bush. STEPHANO Come, swear to that. Kiss the book. I will furnish it anon with new contents. Swear. [Caliban drinks.] TRINCULO By this good light, this is a very shallow monster. I afeard of him? A very weak monster. The man i' th' moon? A most poor, credulous monster! --Well drawn, monster, in good sooth! CALIBAN I'll show thee every fertile inch o' th' island, and I will kiss thy foot. I prithee, be my god. TRINCULO By this light, a most perfidious and drunken monster. When 's god's asleep, he'll rob his bottle. CALIBAN I'll kiss thy foot. I'll swear myself thy subject. STEPHANO Come on, then. Down, and swear. [Caliban kneels.] TRINCULO I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed monster. A most scurvy monster. I could find in my heart to beat him-- STEPHANO Come, kiss. TRINCULO --but that the poor monster's in drink. An abominable monster. CALIBAN I'll show thee the best springs. I'll pluck thee berries. I'll fish for thee and get thee wood enough. A plague upon the tyrant that I serve. I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee, Thou wondrous man. TRINCULO A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of a poor drunkard. CALIBAN, [standing] I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs grow, And I with my long nails will dig thee pignuts, Show thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how To snare the nimble marmoset. I'll bring thee To clustering filberts, and sometimes I'll get thee Young scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me? STEPHANO I prithee now, lead the way without any more talking.--Trinculo, the King and all our company else being drowned, we will inherit here. --Here, bear my bottle.--Fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by and by again. CALIBAN [sings drunkenly] Farewell, master, farewell, farewell. TRINCULO A howling monster, a drunken monster. CALIBAN [sings] No more dams I'll make for fish, Nor fetch in firing At requiring, Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish. 'Ban, 'ban, Ca-caliban Has a new master. Get a new man. Freedom, high-day! High-day, freedom! Freedom, high-day, freedom! STEPHANO O brave monster! Lead the way. [They exit.] ACT 3 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Ferdinand bearing a log.] FERDINAND There be some sports are painful, and their labor Delight in them sets off; some kinds of baseness Are nobly undergone; and most poor matters Point to rich ends. This my mean task Would be as heavy to me as odious, but The mistress which I serve quickens what's dead And makes my labors pleasures. O, she is Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed, And he's composed of harshness. I must remove Some thousands of these logs and pile them up, Upon a sore injunction. My sweet mistress Weeps when she sees me work, and says such baseness Had never like executor. I forget; But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labors, Most busiest when I do it. [Enter Miranda; and Prospero at a distance, unobserved.] MIRANDA Alas now, pray you, Work not so hard. I would the lightning had Burnt up those logs that you are enjoined to pile. Pray, set it down and rest you. When this burns 'Twill weep for having wearied you. My father Is hard at study. Pray now, rest yourself. He's safe for these three hours. FERDINAND O most dear mistress, The sun will set before I shall discharge What I must strive to do. MIRANDA If you'll sit down, I'll bear your logs the while. Pray, give me that. I'll carry it to the pile. FERDINAND No, precious creature, I had rather crack my sinews, break my back, Than you should such dishonor undergo While I sit lazy by. MIRANDA It would become me As well as it does you, and I should do it With much more ease, for my good will is to it, And yours it is against. PROSPERO, [aside] Poor worm, thou art infected. This visitation shows it. MIRANDA You look wearily. FERDINAND No, noble mistress, 'tis fresh morning with me When you are by at night. I do beseech you, Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers, What is your name? MIRANDA Miranda.--O my father, I have broke your hest to say so! FERDINAND Admired Miranda! Indeed the top of admiration, worth What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady I have eyed with best regard, and many a time Th' harmony of their tongues hath into bondage Brought my too diligent ear. For several virtues Have I liked several women, never any With so full soul but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed, And put it to the foil. But you, O you, So perfect and so peerless, are created Of every creature's best. MIRANDA I do not know One of my sex, no woman's face remember, Save, from my glass, mine own. Nor have I seen More that I may call men than you, good friend, And my dear father. How features are abroad I am skilless of, but by my modesty, The jewel in my dower, I would not wish Any companion in the world but you, Nor can imagination form a shape Besides yourself to like of. But I prattle Something too wildly, and my father's precepts I therein do forget. FERDINAND I am in my condition A prince, Miranda; I do think a king-- I would, not so!--and would no more endure This wooden slavery than to suffer The flesh-fly blow my mouth. Hear my soul speak: The very instant that I saw you did My heart fly to your service, there resides To make me slave to it, and for your sake Am I this patient log-man. MIRANDA Do you love me? FERDINAND O heaven, O Earth, bear witness to this sound, And crown what I profess with kind event If I speak true; if hollowly, invert What best is boded me to mischief. I, Beyond all limit of what else i' th' world, Do love, prize, honor you. MIRANDA I am a fool To weep at what I am glad of. PROSPERO, [aside] Fair encounter Of two most rare affections. Heavens rain grace On that which breeds between 'em! FERDINAND Wherefore weep you? MIRANDA At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer What I desire to give, and much less take What I shall die to want. But this is trifling, And all the more it seeks to hide itself, The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning, And prompt me, plain and holy innocence. I am your wife if you will marry me. If not, I'll die your maid. To be your fellow You may deny me, but I'll be your servant Whether you will or no. FERDINAND My mistress, dearest, and I thus humble ever. MIRANDA My husband, then? FERDINAND Ay, with a heart as willing As bondage e'er of freedom. Here's my hand. MIRANDA, [clasping his hand] And mine, with my heart in 't. And now farewell Till half an hour hence. FERDINAND A thousand thousand. [They exit.] PROSPERO So glad of this as they I cannot be, Who are surprised withal; but my rejoicing At nothing can be more. I'll to my book, For yet ere suppertime must I perform Much business appertaining. [He exits.] Scene 2 ======= [Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo.] STEPHANO, [to Trinculo] Tell not me. When the butt is out, we will drink water; not a drop before. Therefore bear up and board 'em.--Servant monster, drink to me. TRINCULO Servant monster? The folly of this island! They say there's but five upon this isle; we are three of them. If th' other two be brained like us, the state totters. STEPHANO Drink, servant monster, when I bid thee. Thy eyes are almost set in thy head. [Caliban drinks.] TRINCULO Where should they be set else? He were a brave monster indeed if they were set in his tail. STEPHANO My man-monster hath drowned his tongue in sack. For my part, the sea cannot drown me. I swam, ere I could recover the shore, five-and-thirty leagues off and on, by this light.--Thou shalt be my lieutenant, monster, or my standard. TRINCULO Your lieutenant, if you list. He's no standard. STEPHANO We'll not run, Monsieur Monster. TRINCULO Nor go neither. But you'll lie like dogs, and yet say nothing neither. STEPHANO Mooncalf, speak once in thy life, if thou be'st a good mooncalf. CALIBAN How does thy Honor? Let me lick thy shoe. I'll not serve him; he is not valiant. TRINCULO Thou liest, most ignorant monster. I am in case to justle a constable. Why, thou debauched fish, thou! Was there ever man a coward that hath drunk so much sack as I today? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but half a fish and half a monster? CALIBAN Lo, how he mocks me! Wilt thou let him, my lord? TRINCULO "Lord," quoth he? That a monster should be such a natural! CALIBAN Lo, lo again! Bite him to death, I prithee. STEPHANO Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head. If you prove a mutineer, the next tree. The poor monster's my subject, and he shall not suffer indignity. CALIBAN I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleased to harken once again to the suit I made to thee? STEPHANO Marry, will I. Kneel and repeat it. I will stand, and so shall Trinculo. [Enter Ariel, invisible.] CALIBAN, [kneeling] As I told thee before, I am subject to a tyrant, a sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me of the island. ARIEL, [in Trinculo's voice] Thou liest. CALIBAN, [to Trinculo] Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou. [He stands.] I would my valiant master would destroy thee. I do not lie. STEPHANO Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in 's tale, by this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth. TRINCULO Why, I said nothing. STEPHANO Mum then, and no more. [Trinculo stands aside.] Proceed. CALIBAN I say by sorcery he got this isle; From me he got it. If thy Greatness will, Revenge it on him, for I know thou dar'st, But this thing dare not. STEPHANO That's most certain. CALIBAN Thou shalt be lord of it, and I'll serve thee. STEPHANO How now shall this be compassed? Canst thou bring me to the party? CALIBAN Yea, yea, my lord. I'll yield him thee asleep, Where thou mayst knock a nail into his head. ARIEL, [in Trinculo's voice] Thou liest. Thou canst not. CALIBAN What a pied ninny's this!--Thou scurvy patch!-- I do beseech thy Greatness, give him blows And take his bottle from him. When that's gone, He shall drink naught but brine, for I'll not show him Where the quick freshes are. STEPHANO Trinculo, run into no further danger. Interrupt the monster one word further, and by this hand, I'll turn my mercy out o' doors and make a stockfish of thee. TRINCULO Why, what did I? I did nothing. I'll go farther off. STEPHANO Didst thou not say he lied? ARIEL, [in Trinculo's voice] Thou liest. STEPHANO Do I so? Take thou that. [He beats Trinculo.] As you like this, give me the lie another time. TRINCULO I did not give the lie! Out o' your wits and hearing too? A pox o' your bottle! This can sack and drinking do. A murrain on your monster, and the devil take your fingers! CALIBAN Ha, ha, ha! STEPHANO Now forward with your tale. [To Trinculo.] Prithee, stand further off. CALIBAN Beat him enough. After a little time I'll beat him too. STEPHANO Stand farther. [Trinculo moves farther away.] Come, proceed. CALIBAN Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with him I' th' afternoon to sleep. There thou mayst brain him, Having first seized his books, or with a log Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake, Or cut his weasand with thy knife. Remember First to possess his books, for without them He's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not One spirit to command. They all do hate him As rootedly as I. Burn but his books. He has brave utensils--for so he calls them-- Which, when he has a house, he'll deck withal. And that most deeply to consider is The beauty of his daughter. He himself Calls her a nonpareil. I never saw a woman But only Sycorax my dam and she; But she as far surpasseth Sycorax As great'st does least. STEPHANO Is it so brave a lass? CALIBAN Ay, lord, she will become thy bed, I warrant, And bring thee forth brave brood. STEPHANO Monster, I will kill this man. His daughter and I will be king and queen--save our Graces!-- and Trinculo and thyself shall be viceroys.--Dost thou like the plot, Trinculo? TRINCULO Excellent. STEPHANO Give me thy hand. I am sorry I beat thee. But while thou liv'st, keep a good tongue in thy head. CALIBAN Within this half hour will he be asleep. Wilt thou destroy him then? STEPHANO Ay, on mine honor. ARIEL, [aside] This will I tell my master. CALIBAN Thou mak'st me merry. I am full of pleasure. Let us be jocund. Will you troll the catch You taught me but whilere? STEPHANO At thy request, monster, I will do reason, any reason.--Come on, Trinculo, let us sing. [Sings.] Flout 'em and cout 'em And scout 'em and flout 'em! Thought is free. CALIBAN That's not the tune. [Ariel plays the tune on a tabor and pipe.] STEPHANO What is this same? TRINCULO This is the tune of our catch played by the picture of Nobody. STEPHANO, [to the invisible musician] If thou be'st a man, show thyself in thy likeness. If thou be'st a devil, take 't as thou list. TRINCULO O, forgive me my sins! STEPHANO He that dies pays all debts.--I defy thee!-- Mercy upon us! CALIBAN Art thou afeard? STEPHANO No, monster, not I. CALIBAN Be not afeard. The isle is full of noises, Sounds and sweet airs that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears, and sometimes voices That, if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep again; and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open, and show riches Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked I cried to dream again. STEPHANO This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I shall have my music for nothing. CALIBAN When Prospero is destroyed. STEPHANO That shall be by and by. I remember the story. TRINCULO The sound is going away. Let's follow it, and after do our work. STEPHANO Lead, monster. We'll follow.--I would I could see this taborer. He lays it on. Wilt come? TRINCULO I'll follow, Stephano. [They exit.] Scene 3 ======= [Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco, etc.] GONZALO By 'r lakin, I can go no further, sir. My old bones aches. Here's a maze trod indeed Through forthrights and meanders. By your patience, I needs must rest me. ALONSO Old lord, I cannot blame thee. Who am myself attached with weariness To th' dulling of my spirits. Sit down and rest. Even here I will put off my hope and keep it No longer for my flatterer. He is drowned Whom thus we stray to find, and the sea mocks Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him go. ANTONIO, [aside to Sebastian] I am right glad that he's so out of hope. Do not, for one repulse, forgo the purpose That you resolved t' effect. SEBASTIAN, [aside to Antonio] The next advantage Will we take throughly. ANTONIO, [aside to Sebastian] Let it be tonight; For now they are oppressed with travel, they Will not nor cannot use such vigilance As when they are fresh. SEBASTIAN, [aside to Antonio] I say tonight. No more. [Solemn and strange music, and enter Prospero on the top invisible.] ALONSO What harmony is this? My good friends, hark. GONZALO Marvelous sweet music! [Enter several strange shapes, bringing in a banquet, and dance about it with gentle actions of salutations.] ALONSO Give us kind keepers, heavens! What were these? SEBASTIAN A living drollery! Now I will believe That there are unicorns, that in Arabia There is one tree, the phoenix' throne, one phoenix At this hour reigning there. ANTONIO I'll believe both; And what does else want credit, come to me And I'll be sworn 'tis true. Travelers ne'er did lie, Though fools at home condemn 'em. GONZALO If in Naples I should report this now, would they believe me? If I should say I saw such islanders-- For, certes, these are people of the island-- Who, though they are of monstrous shape, yet note Their manners are more gentle, kind, than of Our human generation you shall find Many, nay, almost any. PROSPERO, [aside] Honest lord, Thou hast said well, for some of you there present Are worse than devils. ALONSO I cannot too much muse Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound, expressing-- Although they want the use of tongue--a kind Of excellent dumb discourse. PROSPERO, [aside] Praise in departing. [Inviting the King, etc., to eat, the shapes depart.] FRANCISCO They vanished strangely. SEBASTIAN No matter, since They have left their viands behind, for we have stomachs. Will 't please you taste of what is here? ALONSO Not I. GONZALO Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we were boys, Who would believe that there were mountaineers Dewlapped like bulls, whose throats had hanging at 'em Wallets of flesh? Or that there were such men Whose heads stood in their breasts? Which now we find Each putter-out of five for one will bring us Good warrant of. ALONSO I will stand to and feed. Although my last, no matter, since I feel The best is past. Brother, my lord the Duke, Stand to, and do as we. [Alonso, Sebastian, and Antonio move toward the table.] [Thunder and lightning. Enter Ariel, like a Harpy, claps his wings upon the table, and with a quaint device the banquet vanishes.] ARIEL [as Harpy] You are three men of sin, whom Destiny, That hath to instrument this lower world And what is in 't, the never-surfeited sea Hath caused to belch up you, and on this island, Where man doth not inhabit, you 'mongst men Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad; And even with such-like valor, men hang and drown Their proper selves. [Alonso, Sebastian, and Antonio draw their swords.] You fools, I and my fellows Are ministers of Fate. The elements Of whom your swords are tempered may as well Wound the loud winds or with bemocked-at stabs Kill the still-closing waters as diminish One dowl that's in my plume. My fellow ministers Are like invulnerable. If you could hurt, Your swords are now too massy for your strengths And will not be uplifted. But remember-- For that's my business to you--that you three From Milan did supplant good Prospero, Exposed unto the sea, which hath requit it, Him and his innocent child, for which foul deed, The powers--delaying, not forgetting--have Incensed the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso, They have bereft; and do pronounce by me Ling'ring perdition, worse than any death Can be at once, shall step by step attend You and your ways, whose wraths to guard you from-- Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls Upon your heads--is nothing but heart's sorrow And a clear life ensuing. [He vanishes in thunder.] [Then, to soft music, enter the shapes again, and dance, with mocks and mows, and carrying out the table.] PROSPERO, [aside] Bravely the figure of this Harpy hast thou Performed, my Ariel. A grace it had, devouring. Of my instruction hast thou nothing bated In what thou hadst to say. So, with good life And observation strange, my meaner ministers Their several kinds have done. My high charms work, And these mine enemies are all knit up In their distractions. They now are in my power; And in these fits I leave them while I visit Young Ferdinand, whom they suppose is drowned, And his and mine loved darling. [He exits, above.] GONZALO, [to Alonso] I' th' name of something holy, sir, why stand you In this strange stare? ALONSO O, it is monstrous, monstrous! Methought the billows spoke and told me of it; The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder, That deep and dreadful organ pipe, pronounced The name of Prosper. It did bass my trespass. Therefor my son i' th' ooze is bedded, and I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded, And with him there lie mudded. [He exits.] SEBASTIAN But one fiend at a time, I'll fight their legions o'er. ANTONIO I'll be thy second. [They exit.] GONZALO All three of them are desperate. Their great guilt, Like poison given to work a great time after, Now 'gins to bite the spirits. I do beseech you That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly And hinder them from what this ecstasy May now provoke them to. ADRIAN Follow, I pray you. [They all exit.] ACT 4 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Prospero, Ferdinand, and Miranda.] PROSPERO, [to Ferdinand] If I have too austerely punished you, Your compensation makes amends, for I Have given you here a third of mine own life, Or that for which I live; who once again I tender to thy hand. All thy vexations Were but my trials of thy love, and thou Hast strangely stood the test. Here afore heaven I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand, Do not smile at me that I boast of her, For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise And make it halt behind her. FERDINAND I do believe it Against an oracle. PROSPERO Then, as my gift and thine own acquisition Worthily purchased, take my daughter. But If thou dost break her virgin-knot before All sanctimonious ceremonies may With full and holy rite be ministered, No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall To make this contract grow; but barren hate, Sour-eyed disdain, and discord shall bestrew The union of your bed with weeds so loathly That you shall hate it both. Therefore take heed, As Hymen's lamps shall light you. FERDINAND As I hope For quiet days, fair issue, and long life, With such love as 'tis now, the murkiest den, The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion Our worser genius can shall never melt Mine honor into lust to take away The edge of that day's celebration When I shall think or Phoebus' steeds are foundered Or night kept chained below. PROSPERO Fairly spoke. Sit then and talk with her. She is thine own. [Ferdinand and Miranda move aside.] What, Ariel, my industrious servant, Ariel! [Enter Ariel.] ARIEL What would my potent master? Here I am. PROSPERO Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service Did worthily perform, and I must use you In such another trick. Go bring the rabble, O'er whom I give thee power, here to this place. Incite them to quick motion, for I must Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple Some vanity of mine art. It is my promise, And they expect it from me. ARIEL Presently? PROSPERO Ay, with a twink. ARIEL Before you can say "Come" and "Go," And breathe twice, and cry "So, so," Each one, tripping on his toe, Will be here with mop and mow. Do you love me, master? No? PROSPERO Dearly, my delicate Ariel. Do not approach Till thou dost hear me call. ARIEL Well; I conceive. [He exits.] PROSPERO, [to Ferdinand] Look thou be true; do not give dalliance Too much the rein. The strongest oaths are straw To th' fire i' th' blood. Be more abstemious, Or else goodnight your vow. FERDINAND I warrant you, sir, The white cold virgin snow upon my heart Abates the ardor of my liver. PROSPERO Well.-- Now come, my Ariel. Bring a corollary Rather than want a spirit. Appear, and pertly. [Soft music.] No tongue. All eyes. Be silent. [Enter Iris.] IRIS Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats, and peas; Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep, And flat meads thatched with stover, them to keep; Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims, Which spongy April at thy hest betrims To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy broom groves, Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves, Being lass-lorn; thy poll-clipped vineyard, And thy sea marge, sterile and rocky hard, Where thou thyself dost air--the Queen o' th' sky, Whose wat'ry arch and messenger am I, Bids thee leave these, and with her sovereign grace, Here on this grass-plot, in this very place, To come and sport. Her peacocks fly amain. Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain. [Enter Ceres.] CERES Hail, many-colored messenger, that ne'er Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter; Who with thy saffron wings upon my flowers Diffusest honey drops, refreshing showers; And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown My bosky acres and my unshrubbed down, Rich scarf to my proud Earth. Why hath thy queen Summoned me hither to this short-grassed green? IRIS A contract of true love to celebrate, And some donation freely to estate On the blest lovers. CERES Tell me, heavenly bow, If Venus or her son, as thou dost know, Do now attend the Queen? Since they did plot The means that dusky Dis my daughter got, Her and her blind boy's scandaled company I have forsworn. IRIS Of her society Be not afraid. I met her deity Cutting the clouds towards Paphos, and her son Dove-drawn with her. Here thought they to have done Some wanton charm upon this man and maid, Whose vows are that no bed-right shall be paid Till Hymen's torch be lighted--but in vain. Mars's hot minion is returned again; Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows, Swears he will shoot no more, but play with sparrows, And be a boy right out. [Juno descends.] CERES Highest queen of state, Great Juno, comes. I know her by her gait. JUNO How does my bounteous sister? Go with me To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be And honored in their issue. [They sing.] JUNO Honor, riches, marriage-blessing, Long continuance and increasing, Hourly joys be still upon you. Juno sings her blessings on you. CERES Earth's increase, foison plenty, Barns and garners never empty, Vines with clust'ring bunches growing, Plants with goodly burden bowing; Spring come to you at the farthest In the very end of harvest. Scarcity and want shall shun you. Ceres' blessing so is on you. FERDINAND This is a most majestic vision, and Harmonious charmingly. May I be bold To think these spirits? PROSPERO Spirits, which by mine art I have from their confines called to enact My present fancies. FERDINAND Let me live here ever. So rare a wondered father and a wise Makes this place paradise. [Juno and Ceres whisper, and send Iris on employment.] PROSPERO Sweet now, silence. Juno and Ceres whisper seriously. There's something else to do. Hush, and be mute, Or else our spell is marred. IRIS You nymphs, called naiads of the windring brooks, With your sedged crowns and ever-harmless looks, Leave your crisp channels and on this green land Answer your summons, Juno does command. Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate A contract of true love. Be not too late. [Enter certain Nymphs.] You sunburned sicklemen, of August weary, Come hither from the furrow and be merry. Make holiday: your rye-straw hats put on, And these fresh nymphs encounter every one In country footing. [Enter certain Reapers, properly habited. They join with the Nymphs in a graceful dance, towards the end whereof Prospero starts suddenly and speaks.] PROSPERO I had forgot that foul conspiracy Of the beast Caliban and his confederates Against my life. The minute of their plot Is almost come.--Well done. Avoid. No more. [To a strange, hollow, and confused noise, the spirits heavily vanish.] FERDINAND, [to Miranda] This is strange. Your father's in some passion That works him strongly. MIRANDA Never till this day Saw I him touched with anger, so distempered. PROSPERO, [to Ferdinand] You do look, my son, in a moved sort, As if you were dismayed. Be cheerful, sir. Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air; And like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vexed. Bear with my weakness. My old brain is troubled. Be not disturbed with my infirmity. If you be pleased, retire into my cell And there repose. A turn or two I'll walk To still my beating mind. FERDINAND/MIRANDA We wish your peace. [They exit.] [Enter Ariel.] PROSPERO Come with a thought. I thank thee, Ariel. Come. ARIEL Thy thoughts I cleave to. What's thy pleasure? PROSPERO Spirit, We must prepare to meet with Caliban. ARIEL Ay, my commander. When I presented Ceres, I thought to have told thee of it, but I feared Lest I might anger thee. PROSPERO Say again, where didst thou leave these varlets? ARIEL I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking, So full of valor that they smote the air For breathing in their faces, beat the ground For kissing of their feet; yet always bending Towards their project. Then I beat my tabor, At which, like unbacked colts, they pricked their ears, Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses As they smelt music. So I charmed their ears That, calf-like, they my lowing followed through Toothed briers, sharp furzes, pricking gorse, and thorns, Which entered their frail shins. At last I left them I' th' filthy-mantled pool beyond your cell, There dancing up to th' chins, that the foul lake O'erstunk their feet. PROSPERO This was well done, my bird. Thy shape invisible retain thou still. The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither For stale to catch these thieves. ARIEL I go, I go. [He exits.] PROSPERO A devil, a born devil, on whose nature Nurture can never stick; on whom my pains, Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost; And as with age his body uglier grows, So his mind cankers. I will plague them all Even to roaring. [Enter Ariel, loaden with glistering apparel, etc.] Come, hang them on this line. [Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo, all wet, as Prospero and Ariel look on.] CALIBAN Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole may not hear a footfall. We now are near his cell. STEPHANO Monster, your fairy, which you say is a harmless fairy, has done little better than played the jack with us. TRINCULO Monster, I do smell all horse piss, at which my nose is in great indignation. STEPHANO So is mine.--Do you hear, monster. If I should take a displeasure against you, look you-- TRINCULO Thou wert but a lost monster. CALIBAN Good my lord, give me thy favor still. Be patient, for the prize I'll bring thee to Shall hoodwink this mischance. Therefore speak softly. All's hushed as midnight yet. TRINCULO Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool! STEPHANO There is not only disgrace and dishonor in that, monster, but an infinite loss. TRINCULO That's more to me than my wetting. Yet this is your harmless fairy, monster! STEPHANO I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o'er ears for my labor. CALIBAN Prithee, my king, be quiet. Seest thou here, This is the mouth o' th' cell. No noise, and enter. Do that good mischief which may make this island Thine own forever, and I, thy Caliban, For aye thy foot-licker. STEPHANO Give me thy hand. I do begin to have bloody thoughts. TRINCULO, [seeing the apparel] O King Stephano, O peer, O worthy Stephano, look what a wardrobe here is for thee! CALIBAN Let it alone, thou fool. It is but trash. TRINCULO Oho, monster, we know what belongs to a frippery. [He puts on one of the gowns.] O King Stephano! STEPHANO Put off that gown, Trinculo. By this hand, I'll have that gown. TRINCULO Thy Grace shall have it. CALIBAN The dropsy drown this fool! What do you mean To dote thus on such luggage? Let 't alone, And do the murder first. If he awake, From toe to crown he'll fill our skins with pinches, Make us strange stuff. STEPHANO Be you quiet, monster.--Mistress Line, is not this my jerkin? [He takes a jacket from the tree.] Now is the jerkin under the line.--Now, jerkin, you are like to lose your hair and prove a bald jerkin. TRINCULO Do, do. We steal by line and level, an 't like your Grace. STEPHANO I thank thee for that jest. Here's a garment for 't. Wit shall not go unrewarded while I am king of this country. "Steal by line and level" is an excellent pass of pate. There's another garment for 't. TRINCULO Monster, come, put some lime upon your fingers, and away with the rest. CALIBAN I will have none on 't. We shall lose our time And all be turned to barnacles or to apes With foreheads villainous low. STEPHANO Monster, lay to your fingers. Help to bear this away where my hogshead of wine is, or I'll turn you out of my kingdom. Go to, carry this. TRINCULO And this. STEPHANO Ay, and this. [A noise of hunters heard.] [Enter divers spirits in shape of dogs and hounds, hunting them about, Prospero and Ariel setting them on.] PROSPERO Hey, Mountain, hey! ARIEL Silver! There it goes, Silver! PROSPERO Fury, Fury! There, Tyrant, there! Hark, hark! [Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo are driven off.] Go, charge my goblins that they grind their joints With dry convulsions, shorten up their sinews With aged cramps, and more pinch-spotted make them Than pard or cat o' mountain. ARIEL Hark, they roar. PROSPERO Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour Lies at my mercy all mine enemies. Shortly shall all my labors end, and thou Shalt have the air at freedom. For a little Follow and do me service. [They exit.] ACT 5 ===== Scene 1 ======= [Enter Prospero in his magic robes, and Ariel.] PROSPERO Now does my project gather to a head. My charms crack not, my spirits obey, and time Goes upright with his carriage.--How's the day? ARIEL On the sixth hour, at which time, my lord, You said our work should cease. PROSPERO I did say so When first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit, How fares the King and 's followers? ARIEL Confined together In the same fashion as you gave in charge, Just as you left them; all prisoners, sir, In the line grove which weather-fends your cell. They cannot budge till your release. The King, His brother, and yours abide all three distracted, And the remainder mourning over them, Brimful of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly Him that you termed, sir, the good old Lord Gonzalo. His tears runs down his beard like winter's drops From eaves of reeds. Your charm so strongly works 'em That if you now beheld them, your affections Would become tender. PROSPERO Dost thou think so, spirit? ARIEL Mine would, sir, were I human. PROSPERO And mine shall. Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling Of their afflictions, and shall not myself, One of their kind, that relish all as sharply Passion as they, be kindlier moved than thou art? Though with their high wrongs I am struck to th' quick, Yet with my nobler reason 'gainst my fury Do I take part. The rarer action is In virtue than in vengeance. They being penitent, The sole drift of my purpose doth extend Not a frown further. Go, release them, Ariel. My charms I'll break, their senses I'll restore, And they shall be themselves. ARIEL I'll fetch them, sir. [He exits.] [Prospero draws a large circle on the stage with his staff.] PROSPERO You elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves, And you that on the sands with printless foot Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him When he comes back; you demi-puppets that By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make, Whereof the ewe not bites; and you whose pastime Is to make midnight mushrumps, that rejoice To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid, Weak masters though you be, I have bedimmed The noontide sun, called forth the mutinous winds, And 'twixt the green sea and the azured vault Set roaring war; to the dread rattling thunder Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak With his own bolt; the strong-based promontory Have I made shake, and by the spurs plucked up The pine and cedar; graves at my command Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let 'em forth By my so potent art. But this rough magic I here abjure, and when I have required Some heavenly music, which even now I do, [Prospero gestures with his staff.] To work mine end upon their senses that This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff, Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, And deeper than did ever plummet sound I'll drown my book. [Solemn music.] [Here enters Ariel before; then Alonso with a frantic gesture, attended by Gonzalo; Sebastian and Antonio in like manner attended by Adrian and Francisco. They all enter the circle which Prospero had made, and there stand charmed; which Prospero observing, speaks.] A solemn air, and the best comforter To an unsettled fancy, cure thy brains, Now useless, boiled within thy skull. There stand, For you are spell-stopped.-- Holy Gonzalo, honorable man, Mine eyes, e'en sociable to the show of thine, Fall fellowly drops.--The charm dissolves apace, And as the morning steals upon the night, Melting the darkness, so their rising senses Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle Their clearer reason.--O good Gonzalo, My true preserver and a loyal sir To him thou follow'st, I will pay thy graces Home, both in word and deed.--Most cruelly Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter. Thy brother was a furtherer in the act.-- Thou art pinched for 't now, Sebastian.--Flesh and blood, You, brother mine, that entertained ambition, Expelled remorse and nature, whom, with Sebastian, Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong, Would here have killed your king, I do forgive thee, Unnatural though thou art.--Their understanding Begins to swell, and the approaching tide Will shortly fill the reasonable shore That now lies foul and muddy. Not one of them That yet looks on me or would know me.--Ariel, Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell. [Ariel exits and at once returns with Prospero's ducal robes.] I will discase me and myself present As I was sometime Milan.--Quickly, spirit, Thou shalt ere long be free. ARIEL [sings, and helps to attire him.] Where the bee sucks, there suck I. In a cowslip's bell I lie. There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly After summer merrily. Merrily, merrily shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bow. PROSPERO Why, that's my dainty Ariel. I shall miss Thee, but yet thou shalt have freedom. So, so, so. To the King's ship, invisible as thou art. There shalt thou find the mariners asleep Under the hatches. The master and the boatswain Being awake, enforce them to this place, And presently, I prithee. ARIEL I drink the air before me, and return Or ere your pulse twice beat. [He exits.] GONZALO All torment, trouble, wonder, and amazement Inhabits here. Some heavenly power guide us Out of this fearful country! PROSPERO, [to Alonso] Behold, sir king, The wronged Duke of Milan, Prospero. For more assurance that a living prince Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body, [He embraces Alonso.] And to thee and thy company I bid A hearty welcome. ALONSO Whe'er thou be'st he or no, Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me (As late I have been) I not know. Thy pulse Beats as of flesh and blood; and since I saw thee, Th' affliction of my mind amends, with which I fear a madness held me. This must crave, An if this be at all, a most strange story. Thy dukedom I resign, and do entreat Thou pardon me my wrongs. But how should Prospero Be living and be here? PROSPERO, [to Gonzalo] First, noble friend, Let me embrace thine age, whose honor cannot Be measured or confined. GONZALO Whether this be Or be not, I'll not swear. PROSPERO You do yet taste Some subtleties o' th' isle, that will not let you Believe things certain. Welcome, my friends all. [Aside to Sebastian and Antonio.] But you, my brace of lords, were I so minded, I here could pluck his Highness' frown upon you And justify you traitors. At this time I will tell no tales. SEBASTIAN, [aside] The devil speaks in him. PROSPERO, [aside to Sebastian] No. [To Antonio.] For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive Thy rankest fault, all of them, and require My dukedom of thee, which perforce I know Thou must restore. ALONSO If thou be'st Prospero, Give us particulars of thy preservation, How thou hast met us here, whom three hours since Were wracked upon this shore, where I have lost-- How sharp the point of this remembrance is!-- My dear son Ferdinand. PROSPERO I am woe for 't, sir. ALONSO Irreparable is the loss, and patience Says it is past her cure. PROSPERO I rather think You have not sought her help, of whose soft grace, For the like loss, I have her sovereign aid And rest myself content. ALONSO You the like loss? PROSPERO As great to me as late, and supportable To make the dear loss have I means much weaker Than you may call to comfort you, for I Have lost my daughter. ALONSO A daughter? O heavens, that they were living both in Naples, The King and Queen there! That they were, I wish Myself were mudded in that oozy bed Where my son lies!--When did you lose your daughter? PROSPERO In this last tempest. I perceive these lords At this encounter do so much admire That they devour their reason, and scarce think Their eyes do offices of truth, their words Are natural breath.--But howsoe'er you have Been justled from your senses, know for certain That I am Prospero and that very duke Which was thrust forth of Milan, who most strangely Upon this shore, where you were wracked, was landed To be the lord on 't. No more yet of this. For 'tis a chronicle of day by day, Not a relation for a breakfast, nor Befitting this first meeting. [To Alonso.] Welcome, sir. This cell's my court. Here have I few attendants, And subjects none abroad. Pray you, look in. My dukedom since you have given me again, I will requite you with as good a thing, At least bring forth a wonder to content you As much as me my dukedom. [Here Prospero discovers Ferdinand and Miranda, playing at chess.] MIRANDA, [to Ferdinand] Sweet lord, you play me false. FERDINAND No, my dearest love, I would not for the world. MIRANDA Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle, And I would call it fair play. ALONSO If this prove A vision of the island, one dear son Shall I twice lose. SEBASTIAN A most high miracle! FERDINAND, [seeing Alonso and coming forward] Though the seas threaten, they are merciful. I have cursed them without cause. [He kneels.] ALONSO Now, all the blessings Of a glad father compass thee about! Arise, and say how thou cam'st here. [Ferdinand stands.] MIRANDA, [rising and coming forward] O wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O, brave new world That has such people in 't! PROSPERO 'Tis new to thee. ALONSO, [to Ferdinand] What is this maid with whom thou wast at play? Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three hours. Is she the goddess that hath severed us And brought us thus together? FERDINAND Sir, she is mortal, But by immortal providence she's mine. I chose her when I could not ask my father For his advice, nor thought I had one. She Is daughter to this famous Duke of Milan, Of whom so often I have heard renown, But never saw before, of whom I have Received a second life; and second father This lady makes him to me. ALONSO I am hers. But, O, how oddly will it sound that I Must ask my child forgiveness! PROSPERO There, sir, stop. Let us not burden our remembrances with A heaviness that's gone. GONZALO I have inly wept Or should have spoke ere this. Look down, you gods, And on this couple drop a blessed crown, For it is you that have chalked forth the way Which brought us hither. ALONSO I say "Amen," Gonzalo. GONZALO Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue Should become kings of Naples? O, rejoice Beyond a common joy, and set it down With gold on lasting pillars: in one voyage Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis, And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife Where he himself was lost; Prospero his dukedom In a poor isle; and all of us ourselves When no man was his own. ALONSO, [to Ferdinand and Miranda] Give me your hands. Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart That doth not wish you joy! GONZALO Be it so. Amen. [Enter Ariel, with the Master and Boatswain amazedly following.] O, look, sir, look, sir, here is more of us. I prophesied if a gallows were on land, This fellow could not drown. Now, blasphemy, That swear'st grace o'erboard, not an oath on shore? Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news? BOATSWAIN The best news is that we have safely found Our king and company. The next: our ship, Which, but three glasses since, we gave out split, Is tight and yare and bravely rigged as when We first put out to sea. ARIEL, [aside to Prospero] Sir, all this service Have I done since I went. PROSPERO, [aside to Ariel] My tricksy spirit! ALONSO These are not natural events. They strengthen From strange to stranger.--Say, how came you hither? BOATSWAIN If I did think, sir, I were well awake, I'd strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep And--how, we know not--all clapped under hatches, Where, but even now, with strange and several noises Of roaring, shrieking, howling, jingling chains, And more diversity of sounds, all horrible, We were awaked, straightway at liberty, Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld Our royal, good, and gallant ship, our master Cap'ring to eye her. On a trice, so please you, Even in a dream were we divided from them And were brought moping hither. ARIEL, [aside to Prospero] Was 't well done? PROSPERO, [aside to Ariel] Bravely, my diligence. Thou shalt be free. ALONSO This is as strange a maze as e'er men trod, And there is in this business more than nature Was ever conduct of. Some oracle Must rectify our knowledge. PROSPERO Sir, my liege, Do not infest your mind with beating on The strangeness of this business. At picked leisure, Which shall be shortly, single I'll resolve you, Which to you shall seem probable, of every These happened accidents; till when, be cheerful And think of each thing well. [Aside to Ariel.] Come hither, spirit; Set Caliban and his companions free. Untie the spell. [Ariel exits.] How fares my gracious sir? There are yet missing of your company Some few odd lads that you remember not. [Enter Ariel, driving in Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo in their stolen apparel.] STEPHANO Every man shift for all the rest, and let no man take care for himself, for all is but fortune. Coraggio, bully monster, coraggio. TRINCULO If these be true spies which I wear in my head, here's a goodly sight. CALIBAN O Setebos, these be brave spirits indeed! How fine my master is! I am afraid he will chastise me. SEBASTIAN Ha, ha! What things are these, my Lord Antonio? Will money buy 'em? ANTONIO Very like. One of them Is a plain fish and no doubt marketable. PROSPERO Mark but the badges of these men, my lords, Then say if they be true. This misshapen knave, His mother was a witch, and one so strong That could control the moon, make flows and ebbs, And deal in her command without her power. These three have robbed me, and this demi-devil, For he's a bastard one, had plotted with them To take my life. Two of these fellows you Must know and own. This thing of darkness I Acknowledge mine. CALIBAN I shall be pinched to death. ALONSO Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler? SEBASTIAN He is drunk now. Where had he wine? ALONSO And Trinculo is reeling ripe. Where should they Find this grand liquor that hath gilded 'em? [To Trinculo.] How cam'st thou in this pickle? TRINCULO I have been in such a pickle since I saw you last that I fear me will never out of my bones. I shall not fear flyblowing. SEBASTIAN Why, how now, Stephano? STEPHANO O, touch me not! I am not Stephano, but a cramp. PROSPERO You'd be king o' the isle, sirrah? STEPHANO I should have been a sore one, then. ALONSO, [indicating Caliban] This is as strange a thing as e'er I looked on. PROSPERO He is as disproportioned in his manners As in his shape. [To Caliban.] Go, sirrah, to my cell. Take with you your companions. As you look To have my pardon, trim it handsomely. CALIBAN Ay, that I will, and I'll be wise hereafter And seek for grace. What a thrice-double ass Was I to take this drunkard for a god, And worship this dull fool! PROSPERO Go to, away! ALONSO, [to Stephano and Trinculo] Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it. SEBASTIAN Or stole it, rather. [Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo exit.] PROSPERO Sir, I invite your Highness and your train To my poor cell, where you shall take your rest For this one night, which part of it I'll waste With such discourse as, I not doubt, shall make it Go quick away: the story of my life And the particular accidents gone by Since I came to this isle. And in the morn I'll bring you to your ship, and so to Naples, Where I have hope to see the nuptial Of these our dear-beloved solemnized, And thence retire me to my Milan, where Every third thought shall be my grave. ALONSO I long To hear the story of your life, which must Take the ear strangely. PROSPERO I'll deliver all, And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales, And sail so expeditious that shall catch Your royal fleet far off. [Aside to Ariel.] My Ariel, chick, That is thy charge. Then to the elements Be free, and fare thou well.--Please you, draw near. [They all exit.] EPILOGUE, [spoken by Prospero.] ============================ Now my charms are all o'erthrown, And what strength I have 's mine own, Which is most faint. Now 'tis true I must be here confined by you, Or sent to Naples. Let me not, Since I have my dukedom got And pardoned the deceiver, dwell In this bare island by your spell, But release me from my bands With the help of your good hands. Gentle breath of yours my sails Must fill, or else my project fails, Which was to please. Now I want Spirits to enforce, art to enchant, And my ending is despair, Unless I be relieved by prayer, Which pierces so that it assaults Mercy itself, and frees all faults. As you from crimes would pardoned be, Let your indulgence set me free. [He exits.]