The two Gentlemen of Verona.

23

O that our Fathers would applaud our loues
To feale our happineſſe with their conſents.

Pro. Oh heauenly Iulie.

Ant. How now? What Letter are you reading there?

Pro. May't pleace your Lordſhip, 'tis a word or two
Of commendations ſent from Valentine;
Deuier'd by a friend, that came from him.

Ant. Lend me the Letter: Let me fee what neues.

Pro. There is no neues (my Lord) but that he writes
How happily he hues, how well-belou'd,
And daily graced by a friend.

Wifhing me with him, partner of his fortune.

Ant. And how ſtand you affected to his wif?

Pro. As one relying on your Lordſhips will,
And not depending on his friendly wif.

Ant. My will is ſomething ſotted with his wif:
Mufe not that I thus ſoordinely proceed;
For what I will, I will, and there an end:
I am refolu'd, that thou ſhalt ſpend ſome time

With Valentinus, in the Emperors Court:
What maintenance he from his friends receives,
Like exhibition thou ſhalt haue from me,
To morrow be in rca dinelle, to goe,
Excufe it not: for I am peremptory.

Pro. My Lord I cannot be ſo ſoon prouided,
Please you deliberare a day or two.

Ant. Look what thou want't ſhalbe ſent after thee:
No more of ſtay: to morrow thou muſt goe;
Come on Panthino; you ſhall be imployd,
To haſten on his Expedition.

Pro. Thus haue I found the fire, for ſeare of burning,
And drench'd me in the ſea, where I am drownd'd.
I fear'd to ſhow my Father Iulias Letter,
Leaſt he ſhould take exceptions to my loue,
And with the vantage of mine owne excufe
Hath he excepted moſt againſt my loue.
Oh, how this ſpring of loue reſembleth
The vincertaine glory of an Aprill day,
Which now ſhewes all the beauty of the Sun,
And by and by a clowd takes all away.

Pan. Sir Protheus, your Fathers call's for you,
He is in haſt, therefore I pray you go.

Pro. Why this it is : my heart accords thereto,
And yet a thousand times it anſwer's no.

Exeunt. Finis.

Actus ſecundus: ſcena Prima.

Enter Valentine, Speed, Silvia.

Speed. Sir, your Gloue.

Valen. Not mine: my Gloues are on.

Sp. Why then this may be yours: for this is but one.

Val. Ha? Let me fee : I, gine it me, it's mine:
Sweet Ornament, that deckes a thing diuine,
Ah Silvia, Silvia.

Speed. Madam Silvia: Madam Silvia.

Val. How now Sirha?

Speed. Shee is not within hearing Sir.

Val. Why fir, who bad you call her?

Speed. Your worſhip ſir, or else I miſtooke.

Val. Well: you'll ſtill be too forward.

Speed. And yet I was laſt chidden for being too flow

Val. Goe to, sir, tell me: do you know Madam Silvia?

Speed. Shee that your worſhip loues?

Val. Why, how know you that I am in loue?

Speed. Marry by the ſpeciall markes : firſt, you haue
learn'd (like Sir Protheus) to wreath your Armes like a
Male-content: to rellifh a Loue ſong, like a Robin-red-
breast : to walke alone like one that had the peſtility:
to ſhike, like a Schoole-boy that had loſt his A. B. C. to
weep like a yong wench that had buried her Grandam:
to faſt, like one that takes diet: to watch, like one that
feares robbing : to ſpeake puling, like a beggar at Hal-
low-Maſſe: You were want, when you laughed, to crow
like a cocke; when you walk'd, to walke like one of the
Lions : when you faſted, it was prefently after dinner :
when you look'd ſadly, it was for want of money: And
now you are Metamorphors'd with a Miſtris, that when I
looke on you, I can hardly thineke you my Maſter.

Val. Are all theſe things percei'u'd in me?

Speed. They are all percei'u'd without ye.

Val. Without me ? they cannot.

Speed. Without you ? Nay, that's certaine : for with-
out you were ſo ſimple, none eſſe would : but you are
ſo without theſe follies, that theſe follies are within you,
and ſhine through you like the water in an Vrinall : that
not an eye that ſees you, but is a Phyſician to comment
on your Malady.

Val. But tell me: do't thou know my Lady Silvia?

Speed. Shee that you gaze on ſo, as ſhe ſits at ſupper.

Val. Haſt thou obſer'u'd that ? euen ſhe I meane.

Speed. Why fir, I know her not.

Val. Do't thou know her by my gazing on her, and
yet know't her not?

Speed. Is ſhe not hard-fauour'd, fir?

Val. Not ſo faire (boy) as well ſauour'd.

Speed. Sir, I know that well enough.

Val. What doſt thou know?

Speed. That ſhee is not ſo faire, as (of you) well-fa-
unour'd?

Val. I meane that her beauty is exquifite,
But her ſauour infinite.

Speed. That's becauſe the one is painted, and the o-
ther out of all count.

Val. How painted? and how out of count?

Speed, Marry fir, ſo painted to make her faire, that no
man counts of her beauty.:

Val. How eſteem't thou me? I account of her beauty,

Speed. You neuer ſaw her ſince ſhe was deſorm'd.

Val. How long hath ſhe beene deſorm'd?

Speed. Euer ſince you lou'd her.

Val. I haue lou'd her euer ſince I ſaw her,
And full I ſee her beautifull.

Speed. If you loue her, you cannot fee her.

Val. Why?

Speed. Becauſe Loue is blinde : O that you had mine
eyes, or your owne eyes had the lights they were wont
to haue, when you chidde at Sir Protheus, for going vn-
garter'd.

Val. What should I fee then?

Speed. Your owne preſent folly, and her paffing de-
formitie: for hee beeing in loue, could not fee to garter
his hofe; and you, beeing in loue, cannot fee to put on
your hofe. (ning

Val. Belike (boy) then you are in loue, for laſt mor-
You could not fee to wipe my ſtooke.

Speed. True fir: I was in loue with my bed, I thanke
you, you ſwing'd me for my loue, which makes me mee the
bolder

The two Gentlemen of Verona.

24

bolder to chide you, for yours.

Val. In conclusion, I stand affected to her.

Speed. I would you were set, so your affection would cease.

Val. Last night she enioyn'd me,
To write some lines to one she loues.

Speed. And haue you?

Val. I haue.

Speed. Are they not lamely writt?

Val. No (Boy) but as well as I can do them:
Peace, here she comes.

Speed. Oh excellent motion; oh exceeding Puppet:
Now will he interpret to her.

Val. Madam & Miftres, a thousand good-morrows.

Speed. Oh, 'giue ye-good-ev'n : heer's a million of manners.

Stl. Sir Valentine, and feruant; to you two thousand.

Speed. He should giue her intereest: & she giues it him.

Val. As you inioynd me; I haue writ your Letter

Vnto the secret, nameles friend of yours :

Which I was much vnwilling to proceed in,

But for my duty to your Ladiship. (done.)

Stl. I thanke you (gentle Servant) 'tis very Clerkly.

Val. Now truft me (Madam) it came hardly-off:

For being ignorant to whom it goes,
I writ at randome, very doubtfully.

Stl. Perchance you think too much of so much pains?

Val. No (Madam) so it teed you, I will write

(Please you command) a thousand times as much :

And yet—

Stl. A pretty period: well: I gheſſe the ſequell;

And yet I will not name it; and yet I care not.

And yet, take this againe: and yet I thanke you :

Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more.

Speed. And yet you will : and yet, another yet.

Val. What meanes your Ladiship?

Doe you not like it?

Sil. Yes, yes: the lines are very quently writ,

But (fince vnwillingly) take them againe.

Nay, take them.

Val. Madam, they are for you.

Sil. I, I: you writ them Sir, at my requeſt,

But I will none of them : they are for you :

I would haue had them writ more mouingly :

Val. Please you, Ile write your Ladiship another.

Stl. And when it's writ : for my fake read it ouer,

And if it pleafe you, so : if not : why so :

Val. If it pleafe me, (Madam?) what then?

Sil. Why if it pleafe you, take it for your labour;

And so good-morrow Servant. Exit. Sil.

Speed. Oh left vnſene: inſerutible: inuſible,

As a noſe on a man's ſace, or a Wethercooke on a ſteepie :
My Maſter ſues to her: and ſhe hath taught her Sutor,
He being her Pupill, to become her Tutor.

Oh excellent deuife, was there cuer heard a better ?

That my maſter being ſcribe,

To himſelfe should write the Letter ?

Val. How now Sir?

What are you reaſoning with your ſelfe?

Speed. Nay: I was riming: 'tis you y' haue the reaſon.

Val. To do what?

Speed. To be a Spokeſ-man from Madam Siluia.

Val. To whom?

Speed. To your ſelfe: why, ſhe woes you by a figure.

Val. What figure?

Speed. By a Letter, I should say.

Val. Why ſhe hath not writ to me?

Speed. What need ſhe,

When ſhe hath made you write to your ſelfe?

Why, doe you not perceiue the iſt?

Val. No, beleeue me.

Speed. No beleeuing you indeed fir :

But did you perceiue her earneſt?

Val. She gaue me none, except an angry word.

Speed. Why ſhe hath giuen you a Letter.

Val. That's the Letter I writ to her friend.

Speed. And y' letter hath ſhe deliuer'd, & there an end,

Val. I would it were no worſe.

Speed. Ile warrant you, 'tis as well:

For often haue you writ to her : and ſhe in modetye,
Or else for want of idle time, could not againe reply,
Or fearing els ſome meſſeger, y might her mind diſcouer
Her ſelfe hath taught her Loue himſelf, to write vnto her
All this I ſpeak in print, for in print I found it. (Louer,
Why mufe you fir, 'tis dinner time.

Val. I haue dyn'd.

Speed. I, but hearken fir : though the Cameleon Loue
can feed on the ayre, I am one that am nouriſh'd by my
victuals ; and would faine haue meate : oh bee not like
your Miftreſſe, be moued, be moued. Exeunt.

## Scena ſecunda.

Enter Protherus, Iulia, Panthon.

Pro. Haue patience, gentle Iulia:

Iulia. I ſtuit where is no remedy.

Pro. When poſsibly I can, I will returne.

Iulia. If you turne not : you will return the sooner :
Keep this remembrance for thy Iulia's ſake.

Pro. Why then wee'll make exchange;
Here, take you this.

Iulia. And ſeale the bargaine with a holy kiffle.

Pro. Here is my hand, for my true conſtancie:
And when that howre ore-flips me in the day,
Wherein I ſigh not (Iulia) for thy ſake,
The next enfuiling howre, ſome foule miſchance
Torment me for my Loues forgetſulneſſe :

My father ſtaies my comming : anſwere not :

The tide is now; nay, not thy tide of teares,
That tide will stay me longer then I should,
Iulia, farewell: what, gon without a word?

I, so true loue should doe : it cannot ſpeake,

For truth hath better deeds, then words to grace it.

Panth. Sir Protherus: you are ſtaid for.

Pro. Goe: I come, I come:

Alas, this parting strikes poore Louers dumbe.

Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Launce, Panthon.

Launce. Nay, 'twill bee this howre ere I haue done
weeping : all the kinde of the Launceſ, haue this very
fault: I haue receu'd my proportion, like the prodigious
ſonne,

The two Gentlemen of Verona.

25

Sonne, and am going with Sir *Protherus* to the Imperials.
Court: I thinke *Crab* my dog, be the fowrest natured
dogge that liues: My Mother weeping: my Father
wayling: my Sifter crying: our Maid howling: our
Catte wringing her hands; and all our house in a great
perplexitie, yet did not this cruell-hearted Curre fhedde
one teare: he is a stone, a very pibble stone, and has no
more pitty in him then a dogge: a few would haue wept
to haue seene our parting: why my Grandam hauing
no eyes, looke you, wept her felfe blinde at my parting:
nay, Ile shew you the manner of it. This fhooe is my fa-
ther: no, this left fhooe is my father: no, no, this left
fhooe is my mother: nay, that cannot bee so neyther:
yes; it is so; it is so: it hath the worfer sole: this fhooe
with the hole in it, is my mother: and this my father:
a veng'ance on't, there'tis: Now fir, this ftaffe is my fi-
ster: for, looke you, she is as white as a lilly, and as
fmall as a wand: this hat is *Nan* our maid: I am the
dogge: no, the dogge is himelfe, and I am the dogge:
oh, the dogge is me, and I am my felfe: I; fo; fo: now
come I to my Father: Father, your bleffing: now
should not the fhooe fpeake a word for weeping:
now should I kiffi my Father: well, hee weepes on:
Now come I to my Mother: Oh that she could fpeake
now, like a would-woman: well, I kiffi her: why
there'tis; here's my mothers breath vp and downe:
Now come I to myfter; marke the moane fhe makes:
now the dogge all this while fheds not a teare: nor
fpeakes a word: but fee how I lay the duft with my
teares.

Panth. *Launce*, away, away: a Boord: thy Mafter is
fhip'd, and thou art to poft after with oares; what's the
matter? why weep't thou man? away affe, you'l loofe
the Tide, if you tarry any longer.

Lann. It is no matter if the tide were loft, for it is the vnkindleft Tide, that euer any man tide.

Panth. What's the vnkindleft tide?

Lau. Why, he that's tide here, *Crab* my dog.

Pant. Tut, man: I meane thou'l loofe the flood, and in
loofing the flood, loofe thy voyage, and in loofing thy
voyage, loofe thy Mafter, and in loofing thy Mafter,
loofe thy feruice, and in loofing thy feruice: —— why
dof't thoulop my mouth?

Lau. For feare thou shouldft loofe thy tongue.

Panth. Where should I loofe my tongue?

Panth. In thy Tale.

Panth. In thy Talle.

Lau. Loofe the Tide, and the voyage, and the Ma-
fter, and the Seruice, and the tide: why man, if the Riuer
were drie, I am able to fill it with my teares: if the winde
were downe, I could drie the boate with my fighes.

Panth. Come: come away man, I was ſent to call
thee.

Lau. Sir: call me what thou dar't.

Panth. Wilt thou goe?

Lau. Well, I will goe.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Valentine, Silvina, Thurio, Speed, Duke, Protherus.

Sil. Seruant.

Val. Miftris.

Spee. Mafter, Sir *Thurio* frownes on you.

Val. I boy, it's for loue.

Spee. Not of you.

Val. Of my Miftruffe then.

Spee. Twere good you knock him.

Sil. Seruant, you are fad.

Val. Indeed, Madam, I ſee me so.

Tha. Seeme you that you are not?

Val. Hap'ly I doe.

Thu. So doe Counterfeyts.

Val. So doe you.

Tha. What ſee me I that I am not?

Val. Wife.

Tha. What inſtance of the contrary?

Val. Your folly.

Tha. And how quoat you my folly?

Val. I quoat it in your Jerkin.

Tha. My Jerkin is a doublet.

Val. Well then, Ile double your folly.

Tha. How?

Sil. What, angry, Sir *Thurio*, do you change colour?

Val. Giue him leaue, Madam, he is a kind of *Camelion*.

Tha. That hath more minde to feed on your bloud,
then liue in your ayre.

Val. You haue faid Sir.

Tha. I Sir, and done too for this time.

Val. I know it wel fir, you alwaies end ere you begin.

Sil. A fine volly of words, gentlemē, & quickly ſhot off.

Val. 'Tis indeed, Madam, we thank the guer.

Sil. Wio is that Seruant?

Val. Your ſelfe (sweet Lady) for you gaue the fire,

Sir *Thurio* borrows his wit from your Ladiships lookes,
And spends what he borrows kindly in your company.

Tha. Sir, if you ſpend word for word with me, I shall
make your wit bankrupt.

(words,

Val. I know it well fir: you haue an Exchequer of
And I thinke, no other treasure to giue your followers:

For it appears by their bare Liueries

That they liue by your bare words.

Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more:

Here comes my father.

Duk. Now, daughter *Silvina*, you are hard beſet.

Sir *Valentine*, your father is in good health,

What ſay you to a Letter from your friends

Of much good newes?

Val. My Lord, I will be thankful,

To any happy meſſenger from thence.

Duk. Know ye *Don Antonio*, your Countriman?

Val. I, my good Lord, I know the Gentleman

To be of worth, and worthy eſtimation,

And not without deferment so well reputed.

Duk. Hath he not a Sonne?

Val. I, my good Lord, a Son, that well deferues

The honor, and regard of ſuch a father.

Duk. You know him well?

Val. I knew him as my ſelfe: for from our Infancie
We haue converſt, and ſpent our howres together,
And though my ſelfe haue beene an idle Trewant,
Omitting the sweet benefit of time

To cloath mine age with Angel-like perſection:

Yet hath Sir *Protherus* (for that's his name)

Made vſe, and faire aduantage of his daies:

His yeares but yong, but his experience old :

His head vn-mellowed, but his Iudgement ripe;

And in a word (for far behinde his worth

Comes all the praises that I now beſtow.)

C

He

The two Gentlemen of Verona.

26

He is compleat in feature, and in minde,
With all good grace, to grace a Gentleman.

Duk. Behrew me fir, but if he make this good
He is as worthy for an Empresse loue,
As meet to be an Emperors Councellor:
Well, Sir: this Gentleman is come to me
With Commendation from great Potentates,
And heere he means to spend his time a while,
I thinke 'tis no vn-welcome newes to you.

Val. Should I have wifsh'd a thing, it had beene he.

Duk. Welcome him then according to his worth:
Silvia, I speake to you, and you Sir Thurio,
For Valentine, I need not cite him to it,
I will fend him hither to you prefently.

Val. This is the Gentleman I told your Ladiship
Had come along with me, but that his Miftrefse
Did hold his eyes, lockt in her Christall looks.

Sil. Be-like that now she hath enfranchis'd them

Vpon some other pawne for fealty.

Val. Nay fure, I thinke she holds them prifoners fit.

Sil. Nay then he should be blind, and being blind
How could he see his way to seek out you?

Val. Why Lady, Loue hath twenty paires of eyes.

Thur. They fay that Loue hath not an eye at all.

Val. To seeUCH Louers, Thurio, as your selfe,

Vpon a homely obiect, Loue can winke.

Sil. Hane done, haue done: here comes a Gentleman.

Val. Welcome, deer Protheus: Miftris, I befeech you
Confirme his welcome, with some speciall favor.

Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome hether,
If this be he you oft haue wifsh'd to heare from.

Val. Miftris, it is: sweet Lady, entertaine him

To be my fellow-feruant to your Ladiship.

Sil. Too low a Miftres for so high a feruant.

Pro. Not so, sweet Lady, but too meane a feruant

To haue a looke of such a worthy a Miftrefse.

Val. Leaue off diſcourſe of dilability:

Sweet Lady, entertaine him for your Seruant.

Pro. My dutie will I boast of, nothing else.

Sil. And dutie neuer yet did want his meed.

Seruant, you are welcome to a worthleſſe Miftrefſe.

Pro. Ile die on him that faies so to your ſelfe.

Sil. That you are welcome?

Pro. That you are worthleſſe. (you)

Thur. Madam, my Lord your father wold (speak with
Sil. I wait vpon his pleasure: Come Sir Thurio,
Goe with me: once more, new Seruant welcome;
Ile leaue you to confer of home affaires.

When you haue done, we looke too heare from you.

Pro. We'll both attend vpon your Ladiship.

Val. Now tell me: how doal from whence you came?

Pro. Your frends are wel, & haue the much comended.

Val. And how doe yours?

Pro. I left them all in health.

Val. How does your Lady? & how thiues your loue?

Pro. My tales of Loue were want to weary you,

I know you ioy not in a Loue-diſcourſe.

Val. I Protheus, but that life is alter'd now,
I haue done pennance for contemning Loue,
Whose high emperious thoughts haue punifch'd me
With bitter faſts, with penitentiall grones,
With nightly teares, and daily hart-fore ſighes,
For in revenge of my contempt of loue,
Loue hath chas'd ſleepe from my enthralled eyes,
And made them watchers of mine owne hearts forrow.
O gentle Protheus, Loue's a mighty Lord,

And hath so humbled me, as I confefſſe

There is no woc to his correction,

Nor to his Seruice, no ſuch ioy on earth:

Now, no diſcourſe, except it be of Loue:

Now can I breake my faſt, dine, ſup, and ſleepe,

Vpon the very naked name of Loue.

Pro. Enough; I read your fortune in your eye.

Was this the Idoll, that you worſhip ſo?

Val. Euen She, and is she not a heauenly Saint?

Pro. No; but she is an earthly Paragon.

Val. Call her diuine.

Pro. I will not flatter her.

Val. O flatter me: for Loue delights in prales.

Pro. When I was ſick, you gaue me bitter pils,
And I muſt minifter the like to you.

Val. Then speake the truth by her; if not diuine,
Yet let her be a principalitie,

Soueraigne to all the Creatures on the earth.

Pro. Except my Miftrefſſe.

Val. Sweet: except not any,

Except thou wilt except againſt my Loue.

Pro. Haue I not reaſon to prefer mine owne?

Val. And I will help thee to prefer her to:
Shee ſhall be dignified with this high honour,
To beare my Ladies traine, left the bare earth
Should from her veſure chance to ſteale a kiffe,
And of so great a fauor growing proud,
Difdaine to roote the Sommer-swellings flowre,
And make rough winter cuerlaſtingly.

Pro. Why Valentine, what Bragadife is this?

Val. Pardon me (Protheus) all I can is nothing,
To her, whose worth, make other worthies nothing;
Shee is alone.

Pro. Then let her alone.

Val. Not for the world: why man, she is mine owne,
And I as rich in hauing ſuch a lewell

As twenty Seas, if all their fand were pearle,
The water, Nectar, and the Rocks pure gold,
Forgive me, that I doe not dreame on thee,
Because thou feest me doate vpon my loue:
My foolish Riuall that her Father likes
(Onely for his poſſeffions are so huge)
Is gone with her along, and I muſt after,
For Loue (thou know'st is full of icalouſe.)

Pro. But ſhe loues you?

(howre,

Val. I, and we are betroath'd: nay more, our marriage
With all the cunning manner of our flight
Determin'd of: how I muſt clime her window,
The Ladder made of Cords, and all the means
Plotted, and 'greed on for my happineſſe.

Good Protheus goe with me to my chamber,
In theſe affaires to aid me with thy counſaile.

Pro. Goe on before: I ſhall enquire you forth:
I muſt vnto the Road, to diſ-embarque
Some neceſſaries, that I needs muſt vſe,
And then Ile prefently attend you.

Val. Willy you make haſte?

Pro. I will.

Euen as one heate, another heate expels,
Or as one naile, by ſtrength drives out another.
So the remembrance of my former Loue
Is by a newer obiect quite forgotten,
It is mine, or Valentines prale?

Her true perſection, or my ſale tranſgreſſion?
That makes me reaſonleſſe, to reaſon thus?

Shee is faire: and so is Iulia that I loue,

Exit.

(That

The two Gentlemen of Verona.

27

(That I did loue, for now my loue is thaw'd,
Which like a waxen Image gainft a fire
Beares no impreffion of the thing it was,)
Me thinkes my zeale to Valentine is cold,
And that I loue him not as I was wont:
O, but I loue his Lady too-too much,
And that's the reafon I loue him so little.
How shall I doate on her with more aduice,
That thus without aduice begin to loue her?
'Tis but her picture I have yet beheld,
And that hath dazel'd my reafons light:
But when I looke on her perfections,
There is no reafon, but I shall be blind.
If I can checke my erring loue, I will,
If not, to compasse her Ile vie my skill.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quinta.

Enter Speed and Launce.

Spee. Launce, by mine honefly welcome to Padua.

Lau. Forfware not thy selfe, Iweet youth, for I am not welcome. I reckon this alwaies, that a man is neuer vndon till hee be hang'd, nor neuer welcome to a place, till fome certaine shot be paid, and the Hozleſte fay welcome.

Spee. Come-on you mad-cap: He to the Ale-houſe with you preſently; where, for one shot of ſiue pence, thou haſt haue ſiue thouſand welcomes: But firſa, how did thy Maſter part with Madam Iulia?

Lau. Marry after they cloaſ'd in earneſt, they parted very fairely in ieſt.

Spee. But ſhall I marry him?

Lau. No.

Spee. How then? ſhall he marry her?

Lau. No, neither.

Spee. What, are they broken?

Lau. No; they are both as whole as a ſiſh.

Spee. Why then, how ſtands the matter with them?

Lau. Marry thus, when it ſtands well with him, it ſtands well with her.

Spee. What an aſſe art thou, I vnderſtand thee not.

Lau. What a blocke art thou, that thou canſt not?

My ſtaſſe vnderſtands me?

Spee. What thou faſſt?

Lau. I, and what I do too: looke thee, Ile but leane, and my ſtaſſe vnderſtands me.

Spee. It ſtands vnder thee indeed.

Lau. Why, ſtand-vnder: and vnder-ſtand is all one.

Spee. But tell me true, wil't be a match?

Lau. Aske my dogge, if he ſay I, it will: if hee ſay no, it will: if hee ſake his taile, and ſay nothing, it will.

Spee. The conclusion is then, that it will.

Lau. Thou haſt neuer get ſuch a ſecret from me, but by a parable.

Spee. 'Tis well that I get it ſo: but Launce, how ſaſſt thou that that my Maſter is become a notable Louer?

Lau. I neuer knew him otherwife.

Spee. Then how?

Lau. A notable Lubber: as thou reportest him to bee.

Spee. Why, thou whorfon Aſſe, thou miſtak'ſt me,
Lau. Why Foole, I meant not thee, I meant thy Maſter.

Spee. I tell thee, my Maſter is become a hot Lcuer.

Lau. Why, I tell thee, I care not, though hee burne himſelfe in Loue. If thou wilt goe with me to the Ale-houſe: if not, thou art an Hebrew, a Jew, and not worth the name of a Chriſtian.

Spee. Why?

Lau. Because thou haſt not ſo much charity in thee as to goe to the Ale with a Chriſtian: Wilt thou goe?

Spee. At thy ſeruice.

Exeunt.

## Scena Sexta.

Enter Protheus ſolus.

Pro. To leaue my Iulia; ſhall I be forſworne?
To loue faire Silvia; ſhall I be forſworne?
To wrong my friend, I ſhall be much forſworne.
And ev'n that Powre which gaue me firſt my oath
Prouokes me to this three-fold perjury.

Loue bad mee ſware, and Loue bids me for-ſware,
Of weeter-fuggeſting Loue, if thou haſt ſin'd,
Teach me (thy tempted ſubieſt) to excufe it.

At firſt I did adore a twinkling Starre,
But now I worship a celeſtiall Sunne:
Vn-heedfull vowes may heedfully be broken,
And he wants wit, that wants refolued will,
To learne his wit, t'exchange the bad for better;
Fie, ſie, vnereuerend tongue, to call her bad,
Whose louereignty ſo oft thou haſt preferd,
With twenty thouſand ſoule-confirming oathes.

I cannot leaue to loue; and yet I do:

But there I leaue to loue, where I should loue.

Iulia Iloofe, and Valentine Iloofe,

If I keepe them, I needs muſt looke my ſelfe:

If I loofe them, thus finde I by their loffe,

For Valentine, my ſelfe: for Iulia, Silvia.

I to my ſelfe am deerer then a friend,

For Loue is ſtill moſt precious in it ſelfe,

And Silvia (witneſſe heauen that made her faire)

Shewes Iulia but a ſwarthy Ethiope.

I will forget that Iulia is aliue,

Remembring that my Loue to her is dead.

And Valentine Ile hold an Enemie,

Ayming at Silvia as a sweeter friend.

I cannot now proue conſtant to my ſelfe,

Withouſt ſome treachery vs'd to Valentine.

This night he meaneth with a Corded-ladder

To climb e celeſtiall Silvia's chamber window,

My ſelfe in counſaile his competitor.

Now preſently Ile giue her father notice

Of their diſguſing and pretended flight:

Who (all inrag'd) will banish Valentine?

For Thuriu he intends ſhall wed his daughter,

But Valentine being gon, Ile quickly croſſe

By ſome ſlie tricke, blunt Thuriu's dull proceeding.

Loue lend me wings, to make my purpoe Swift

As thou haſt lent me wit, to plot this drift.

Exit.

C2

SCAHA

28

The two Gentlemen of Verona.

## Scena septima.

### Enter Julia and Lucetta.

Iul. Counfaile, *Lucetta*, gentle girle affift me,
And eu'n in kinde loue, I doe coniure thee,
Who art the Table wherein all my thoughts
Are visibly Charaſter'd, and engraʊ'd,
To leſſon me, and tell me ſome good meane
How with my honour I may vndertake
A journey to my louing *Protheus*.

Luc. Alas, the way is wearisome and long.

Iul. A true-deuoted Pilgrime is not weary
To measure Kingdomes with his feeble ſteps,
Much leſſe ſhall ſhe that hath Loues wings to ſlie,
And when the flight is made to one ſo deere,
Of ſuch diuine perſection as Sir *Protheus*.

Luc. Better forbeare, till *Protheus* make returne.

Iul: Oh, know't ſt not, his looks are my ſoules food?
Pity the dearth that I haue pined in,
By longing for that food ſo long a time.
Didſt thou but know the inly touch of Loue,
Thou wouldſt as ſoone goe kindle fire with ſnow
As ſeeke to quench the fire of Loue with words.

Luc. I do not ſeeke to quench your Loues hot fire,
But qualife the fires extreame rage,
Left it should burne about the bounds of reaſon.

Iul. The more thou dam't it vp, the more it burns:
The Current that with gentle murmurie glides
(Thou know't) being ſtop'd, impatiently doth rage:
But when his faire courſe is not hinder'd,
He makes ſweet muſicke with th'enameld ſlones,
Giuing a gentle kittle to every ſedge
He ouet-taketh in his pilgrimage.
And ſo by many winding nookes he ſtraies
With willing ſport to the wilde Ocean.
Then let me goe, and hinder not my courſe :
Ile be as patient as a gentle fireme,
And make a paſtme of each weary ſtep,
Till the laſt ſtep haue brought me to my Loue,
And there Ile reſt, as after much turmoil
A bleſſed ſoule doth in *Elizatua*.

Luc. But in what habit will you goe along?

Iul. Not like a woman, for I would preuent

The loose encounters of laſciuious men:

Gentle *Lucetta*, fit me with ſuch weedes

As may beſeeme ſome well reputed Page.

Luc. Why then your Ladieſhip muſt cut your haire.

Iul. No girle, Ile knit it vp in ſilken ſtrings,

With twentie od-conceited true-loue knots :

To be ſanſtique, may become a youth

Of greater time then I ſhall ſhew to be. (ches?

Luc. What ſaſhion (Madam) ſhall I make your bree?

Iul. That fits as well, as tell me (good my Lord)

What compaſſe will you weare your Farthingale?

Why eu'n what ſaſhion thou beſt likes (*Lucetta*.)

Luc. You muſt needs haue the with a cod-peecce (Ma-

Iul. Out, out, (*Lucetta*) that wilbe illſauourd. (dam)

Luc. A round hofe (Madam) now's not worth a pin

Vnleſſe you have a cod-peecce to ſlick pins on.

Iul. *Lucetta*, as thou louſt me let me haue

What thou think'st meet, and is moſt mannerly.

But tell me (wench) how will the world repute me
For vndertaking ſo vnſtaſt a journey ?

I feare me it will make me ſcandaliz'd.

Luc. If you thinke ſo, then ſtay at home, and go not.

Iul. Nay, that I will not.

Luc. Then neuer dreame on Infamy, but go :
If *Protheus* like your iourey, when you come,
No matter who's diſpleas'd, when you are gone:
I feare me he will ſcarce be pleas'd with all.

Iul. That is the leaſt (*Lucetta*) of my ſeare :

A thousand oathes, an Ocean of his teares,
And inſtances of infinite of Loue,

Warrant me welcome to my *Protheus*.

Luc. All theſe are ſeruants to deceitfull men.

Iul. Bafe men, that vſe them to ſo bafe effect;
But truer ſtarres did gouerne *Protheus* birth,
His words are bonds, his oathes are oracles,
His loue ſincere, his thoughts immaculate,
His teares, pure meſſengers, ſent from his heart,
His heart, as far from fraud, as heauen from earth.

Luc. Pray heau'n he proue ſo when you come to him.

Iul. Now, as thou louſt me, do him not that wrong,

To beare a hard opinion of his truth:

Onely deferue my loue, by louing him,
And prefently goe with me to my chamber
To take a note of what I ſtand in need of,
To furniſh me vpon my longing iourey :
All that is mine I leaue at thy diſpofe,
My goods, my Lands, my reputation,
Onely, in lieu thereof, diſpatch me hence:

Come; anſwere not: but to it p[re]ſently,
I am impatient of my tarriance.

Exeunt.

## Actus Terſius, Scena Prima.

### Enter Duke, Thario, Protheus, Valentine, Launce, Speed.

Duke. Sir *Thurio*, giue vs leaue (I pray) a while,
We haue ſome ſecrets to confer about.

Now tell me *Protheus*, what's your will with me?

Pro. My gracious Lord, that which I wold diſcouer,
The Law of friendſhip bids me to conceale,
But when I call to minde yourt gracious ſauours
Done to me (vndeferuing as I am)
My dutie pricks me on to vttter that

Which eſſe, no worldly good ſhould draw from me:
Know (worthy Prince) Sir *Valentine* my friend

This night intends to ſeale away your daughter :
My ſelfe am one made priuy to the plot.

I know you haue determin'd to beſtow her
On *Thurio*, whom your gentle daughter hates,

And should ſhe thus be ſtolne away from you,
It would be much vexation to your age.

Thus (for my duties ſake) I rather chofe

To croſſe my friend in his intended drift,
Then (by concealing it) heap on your head

A pack of iſorrowes, which would preſſe you downe
(Being vnprevented) to your timeſelle graue.

Duke. *Protheus*, I thank thee for thine honest care,
Which to requite, command me while I liue.
This loue of theirs, my ſelfe haue often ſeene,
Haply when they haue iudg'd me ſaſt aſſleepe,
And oftentimes haue purpurs'd to forbid

Sir

The two Gentlemen of Verona.

29

Sir Valentine her companie, and my Court.

But fearing left my jealousymight erre,

And so (vnworthily) difgrace the man
(A rafheneſt that I euer yet haue ſhun'd)

I gaue him gentle looks, thereby to finde

That which thy ſelfe haſt now diſclos'd to me.

And that thou maiſt perceiue my ſearce of this,
Knowing that tender youth is ſoone ſuggeſteth,
I nightly lodge her in an upper Tower,

The key whereof, my ſelfe haue euer kept :

And thence ſhe cannot be conuay'd away.

Pro. Know (noble Lord) they haue deuis'd a meane
How he her chamber-window will ascend;

And with a Corded-ladder fetch her downe:

For which, the youthfull Louer now is gone,

And this way comes he with it preſently.

Where (if it pleafe you) you may intercept him.

But (good my Lord) doe it so cunningly

That my diſcouery be not aimed at:

For, loue of you, not hate vnto my friend,

Hath made me publisher of this pretence.

Duke. Vpon mine Honor, he shall neuer know
That I had any light from thee of this.

Pro. Adiew, my Lord, Sir Valentine is comming.

Duk. Sir Valentining, whether away to faſt?

Val. Pleafe it your Grace, there is a Meſſenger

That ſtayes to beare my Letters to my friends,

And I am going to deliuer them.

Duk. Be they of much import?

Val. The tenure of them doth but ſignifie

My health, and happy being at your Court.

Duk. Nay then no matter: ſlay with me a while,
I am to breake with thee of ſome affaires

That touch me neere: wherein thou muſt be ſecret.

'Tis not vnknown to thee, that I haue ſought
To match my friend Sir Thurio, to my daughter.

Val. I know it well (my Lord) and ſure the Match
Were rich and honourable: beſides, the gentleman
Is full of Vertue, Bounty, Worth, and Qualities
Befeeming vouch说明书, as your faire daughter:
Cannot your Grace win her to fancie him?

Duk. No, truſt me, She is peeviſh, ſullen, ſroward,
Prowd, diſobedient, ſubborne, lacking duty,
Neither regarding that ſhe is my childe,
Nor fearing me, as if I were her father:
And may I ſay to thee, this pride of hers
(Vpon aduice) hath drawne my loue from her,
And where I thought the remnant of mine age
Should haue beene ceriſh'd by her child-like dutie,
I now am full refolu'd to take a wife,

And turne her out, to who will take her in :
Then let her beauty be her weddning dowre:
For me, and my poſſeffions ſhe eſteemes not.

Val. What would your Grace haue me to do in this?

Duk. There is a Lady in Verona heere

Whom I affect: but ſhe is nice, and coy,

And naught eſteemes my aged eloquence.

Now therefore would I haue thee to my Tutor

(For long agone I haue forgot to court,
Besides the fashion of the time is chang'd)

How, and which way I may beſtow my ſelfe
To be regarded in her ſun-bright eye.

Val. Win her with gifts, if ſhe respect not words,

Dumbe Iewels often in their ſilent kinde

More then quicke words, doe moue a womans minde.

Duk. But ſhe did ſcorne a preſent that I ſent her,

Val. A woman ſometime ſcorns what beſt cötents her,
Send her another: neuer giue her ore,

For ſcorne at first, makes after-loue the more,

If ſhe doe ſrowne, 'tis not in hate of you,

But rather to beget more loue in you.

If ſhe doe chide, 'tis not to haue you gone,

For why, the fooles are mad, if left alone.

Take no repulſe, what euer ſhe doth ſay,

For, get you gon, ſhe doth not meane away.

Flatter, and praisc, commend, extoll their graces :

Though nere to blacke, ſay they haue Angells faces,

That man that hath a tongue, I ſay is no man,

If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.

Duk. But ſhe I meane, is promis'd by her friends
Vnto a youthfull Gentleman of worth,

And kept feuerely from reſort of men,

That no man hath acceſſe by day to her.

Val. Why then I would reſort to her by night.

Duk. I, but the doores be locke, and keyes kept ſafe,
That no man hath recourse to her by night.

Val. What letts but one may enter at her window?

Duk. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground,
And built ſo ſheling, that one cannot climb e't.

Without apparent hazard of his life.

Val. Why then a Ladder quaintly made of Cords
To caſt vp, with a paire of anchoring hooks,

Would ſerue to ſcale another Hero's towre,

So bold Leander would aduenture it.

Duk. Now as thou art a Gentleman of blood

Aduife me, where I may haue ſuch a Ladder.

Val. When would you vſe it ? pray fir, tell me that.

Duk. This very right; for Loue is like a childe

That longs for every thing that he can come by.

Val. By leauen a clocke, I get you ſuch a Ladder.

Duk. But harke thee: I will goe to her alone,

How ſhall I beſt conuey the Ladder thither?

Val. It will be light (my Lord) that you may beare it
Vnder a cloake, that is of any length.

Duk. A cloake as long as thine will ſerue the turne?

Val. I my good Lord.

Duk. Then let me ſee thy cloake,

Ile get me one of ſuch another length.

Val. Why any cloake will ſerue the turn (my Lord)

Duk. How ſhall I fashion me to weare a cloake?

I pray thee let me feele thy cloake vpon me.

What Letter is this fame? what's here? to Siluia?

And hereere an Engine fit for my proceeding,

Ile be ſo bold to breake the ſeale for once.

My thoughts do harbour with my Silnia nightly,

And flames they are to me, that ſend them flying.

Oh, could their Maſter come, and goe as lightly,

Himſelſe would lode where (fenceles) they are lying.

My Herald Thoughts, in thy pure bosome reſt-them,

While I (their King) that thither them importune

Doe curſe the grace, that with ſuch grace hath bleſt them,
Because my ſelfe doe want my ſeruants fortune.

I curſe my ſelfe, for they are ſent by me,

That they ſhould harbour where their Lord should be.

What's here? Siluia, this night I will enfranchiſe thee.

'Tis ſo: and hereere's the Ladder for the purpofe.

Why Phaeton (for thou art Merops ſonne)

Wilt thou aſpire to guide the heauenly Car?

And with thy daring folly burne the world?

Wilt thou reach ſtars, becauſe they ſhine on thee?

C 3

Goe

30 The two Gentlemen of Verona.

Goe bafe Intruder, ouer-weening Slaue,
Beflow thy fawning smiles on equall mates,
And thinke my patience, (more then thy defert)
Is priuilege for thy departure hence.

Thanke me for this, more then for all the fauors
Which (all too-much) I haue beftowed on thee.

But if thou linger in my Territories
Longer then ſwifteſt expedition

Will giue thee time to leaue our roall Court,
By heauen, my wrath (shall farre exceed the loue
I euer bore my daughter, or thy ſelfe.

Be gone, I will not heare thy vaine excufe,

But as thou louſt thy life, make ſpeed from hence.

Val. And why not death, rather then liuing torment?
To die, is to be banifht from my ſelfe,

And Silnia is my ſelfe: banifh'd from her
Is ſelfe from ſelfe. A deadly banifhment :
What light, is light, if Silnia be not ſeene ?

What ioy is ioy, if Silnia be not by?

Vnleſſe it be to thinke that ſhe is by
And feed vpon the ſhadow of perſection.
Except I be by Silnia in the night,

There is no muſicke in the Nightingale.

Vnleſſe I looke on Silnia in the day,

There is no day for me to looke vpon,
Shee is my effence, and I leaue to be ;

If I be not by her faire influence

Foſter'd, illumin'd, cherifh'd, kept aliue.

I flie not death, to flie his deadly doome,

Tarry I heere, I but attend on death,

But flie I hence, I flie away from life.

Pro. Run (boy) run, run, and seeke him out.

Lau. So-hough, Soa hough —

Pro. What ſeekt thou?

Lau. Him we goe to finde,

There's not a haire on's head, but v's a Valentine.

Pro. Valentine?

Val. No.

Pro. Who then? his Spirit?

Val. Neither,

Pro. What then?

Val. Nothing.

Lau. Can nothing ſpeake? Maſter, shall I ſtrike?

Pro. Who wouldſt thou ſtrike?

Pro. Nothing.

Pro. Villaine, forbeare.

Lau. Why Sir, Ile ſtrike nothing: I pray you.

Pro. Sirha, I fay forbeare: friend Valentine, a word.

Val. My eares are ſtopt, & cannot hear good newes,
So much of bad already hath poffeſt them.

Pro. Then in dumbe ſilence will I bury mine,
For they are hatſh, vn-tuneable, and bad.

Val. Is Silnia dead?

Pro. No, Valentine.

Val. No Valentine indeed, for ſacred Silnia,

Hath ſhe forſworne me?

Pro. No, Valentine.

Val. No Valentine, if Silnia haue forſworne me.

What is your newes?

Lau. Sir, there is a proclamation, y you are vanifhed,
Pro. That thou art banifh'd: oh that's the newes,

From hence, from Silnia, and from me thy friend,

Val. Oh, I haue fed vpon this woe already,

And now exceſſe of it will make me ſurſet.

Doth Silnia know that I am banifh'd?

Pro. I, I: and ſhe hath offered to the doome

(Which vn-reuerſt stands in effect uall force)

A Sea of melting pearle, which some call teares;

Thofe at her fathers churlifh ſeete the tenderd,

With them vpon her knees, her humble ſelfe,

Wringing her hands, whose whitenes ſo became them,
As if but now they waxed pale for woe:

But neither bended knees, pure hands held vp,

Sad ſighes, deepe grones, nor filuer-shedding teares

Could penetrate her vncompafſionate Sire ;

But Valentine, if he be tane, muſt die.

Besides, her interceſſion chaf'd him ſo,

When ſhe for thy repeale was ſuppliant,

That to close prifon he commanded her,

With many bitter threats of biding there.

Val. No more: vnles the next word that thou ſpeak'ſt
Haue ſome malignant power vpon my life :

If ſo: I pray thee breath it in mine eare,

As ending Antheme of my endleſſe dolor.

Pro. Ceafe to lament for that thou canſt not helpe,
And ſtudy helpe for that which thou lament'ſt,

Time is the Nurſe, and breeder of all good ;

Here, if thou stay, thou canſt not ſee thy loue :

Besides, thy ſkaying will abridge thy life :

Hope is a louers ſtaffe, walke hence with that

And manage it, againſt defpairing thoughts :

Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence,

Which, being writ to me, ſhall be deliuer'd

Euen in the milke-white boſome of thy Loue.

The time now ſerues not to expoſutulate,

Come, Ile conuey thee through the City-gate.

And ere I part with thee, confer at large

Of all that may concerne thy Loue-affaires :

As thou louſt Silnia (though not for thy ſelfe)

Regard thy danger, and along with me.

Val. I pray thee Launcee, and if thou ſeekt my Boy
Bid him make hafte, and meet me at the North-gate.

Pro. Goe firha, finde him out: Come Valentine.

Val. Oh my deere Silnia; hapleſſe Valentine.

Launce. I am but a fooler, looke you, and yet I haue
the wit to thinke my Maſter is a kinde of a knaue : but
that's all one, if he be but one knaue: He liues not now
that knowes me to be in loue, yet I am in loue, but a
Teeme of horſe shall not plucke that from me: nor who
'tis I loue : and yet 'tis a woman ; but what woman, I
will not tell my ſelfe: and yet 'tis a Milke-maid : yet 'tis
not a maid: for ſhee hath had Goſſips : yet 'tis a maid,
for ſhe is her Maſters maid, and ſerues for wages. ſhee
hath more qualities then a Water-Spaniell, which is
much in a bare Chriſtan: Heere is the Cate-log of her
Condition. Inprimis. ſhee can fetch and carry : why
a horſe can doe no more ; nay, a horſe cannot fetch, but
only carry, therefore is ſhee better then a Iade. Items.
She can milke, looke you, a ſweet vertue in a maid with
cleane hands.

Speed. How now Signior Launcee ? what newes with
your Maſterſhip ?

La. With my Maſterſhip ? why, it is at Sea :

Sp. Well, your old vice ſtill: miſtake the word: what
newes then in your paper?

La. The black'ſt newes that euer thou heard'ſt.

Sp. Why man? how blacke?

La. Why, as blacke as Inke.

Sp. Let me read them?

La. Fie on thee Iolt-head, thou canſt not read.

Sp. Thou lyeſt : I can.

La. I will try thee: tell me this: who begot thee?

Sp. Marry,

The two Gentlemen of Verona.

31

Sp. Marry, the son of my Grand-father.
La. Oh, illiterate loyterer; it was the sonne of thy Grand-mother : this proues that thou canst not read.

Sp. Come foole, come : try me in thy papers.

La. There: and S. Nicholas be thy Speed.

Sp. Inprimis the can milke.

La. I that she can.

Sp. Item, she brewes good Ale.

La. And thereof comes the prouerbe : (Blessing of your heart, you brew good Ale.)

Sp. Item, she can fowe.

La. That's as much as to say (Can she for?)

Sp. Item, she can knit.

La. What neede a man care for a stock with a wench, When she can knit him a flocke?

Sp. Item, she can wash andfcoure.

La. A speciall vertue : for then shee neede not be wath'd, and fcowrd.

Sp. Item, she can spin.

La. Then may I let the world on wheeles, when she can spin for her liuing.

Sp. Item; she hath many namelesse vertues.

La. That's as much as to say Boffard-vertues : that indeede know not their fathers; and therefore haue no names.

Sp. Here follow her vices.

La. Close at the heeles of her vertues.

Sp. Item, shee is not to be fasting in respect of her breath.

La. Well: that fault may be mended with a break-faft: read on.

Sp. Item, she hath a sweet mouth.

La. That makes amends for her foure breath.

Sp. Item, she doth talke in her fleepe.

La. It's no matter for that: so shee sleepe not in her talke.

Sp. Item, she is flow in words.

La. Oh villaine, that fet this downe among her vices;

To be flow in words, is a womans onely vertue :

I pray thee out with't, and place it for her chiefe vertue.

Sp. Item, she is proud.

La. Out with that too :

It was Eues legacie, and cannot be t'ane from her.

Sp. Item, she hath no teeth.

La. I care not for that neither: because I loue crufts.

Sp. Item, she is curft.

La. Well: the beft is, she hath no teeth to bite.

Sp. Item, she will often praishe her liquor.

La. If her liquor be good, she shall: if she will not, I will; for good things should be praisèd.

Sp. Item, she is too liberal.

La. Of her tongue she cannot; for that's writ downe she is flow of: of her purfe, shee shall not, for that she keepe flut: Now, of another thing shee may, and that cannot I helpe. Well, proceede.

Sp. Item, shee hath more haire then wit, and more faults then haires, and more wealth then faults.

La. Stop there: Ile haue her: she was mine, and not mine, twice or thrice in that last Article: rehearce that once more.

Sp. Item, she hath more haire then wit.

La. More haire then wit: it may be ile proue it: The couer of the falt, hides the falt, and therefore it is more then the falt; the haire that couers the wit, is more then the wit; for the greater hides the lesse: What's next?

Sp. And more faults then haires.

La. That's monftrous: oh that that were out.

Sp. And more wealth then faults.

La. Why that word makes the faults gracious: Well, ile haue her: and if it be a match, as nothing is impoffible.

Sp. What then?

La. Why then, will I tell thee, that thy Mafter staies for thee at the North gate?

Sp. For me?

La. For thee? I, who art thou? he hath staid for a better man then thee.

Sp. And muft I goe to him?

La. Thou muft run to him; for thou haft staid so long, that going will fearce ferue the turne.

Sp. Why didft not tell me sooner? 'pox of your loue Letters.

La. Now will he be swing'd for reading my Letter; An vnmannerly flaue, that will thrust himselfe into fer-crets: Ile after, to reioyce in the boyes correcţió. Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Duke, Thurio, Protheus.

Du. Sir Thurio, feare not, but that she will loue you Now Valentine is banifh'd from her fight.

Th. Since his exile she hath delpis'd me most, Forfworne my company, and rail'd at me, That I am delperate of obtaining her.

Du. This weake imprefse of Loue, is as a figure Trenched in ice, which with an heures heate Diffolues to water, and doth looke his forme. A little time will melt her frozen thoughts, And worthleſſe Valentine (shall be forgot.) How now fir Protheus, is your countriman (According to our Proclamation) gon ?

Pro. Gon, my good Lord.

Du. My daughter takes his going grieuouſly ?

Pro. A little time (my Lord) will kill that griefe.

Du. So I beleeue: but Thurio thinkes not so :

Protheus, the good conceit I hold of thee, (For thou haſt ſhowne ſome ſigne of good defert) Makes me the better to confer with thee.

Pro. Longer then I proue loyall to your Grace, Let me not liue, to looke vpon your Grace.

Du. Thou knowſt how willingly, I would effect The match betweene fir Thurio, and my daughter ?

Pro. I doe my Lord.

Du. And alfo, I thinke, thou art not ignorant How she oppofes her againſt my will?

Pro. She did my Lord, when Valentine was here.

Du. I, and peruerſfly, the perſeuers fo : What might we doe to make the girle forget The loue of Valentine, and loue fir Thurio?

Pro. The beſt way is, to flander Valentine, With falſehood, cowardize, and poore disſent: Three things, that women highly hold in hate.

Du. I, but ſhe'll thinke, that it is ſpoke in hate.

Pro. I, if his enemy deliuer it.

Therefore it muſt with circumſtance be ſpoken By one, whom the eſteemeth as his friend.

Du. Then you muſt vndertake to flander him.

Pro.

The two Gentlemen of Verona.

32

*Pro.* And that (my Lord) I shall be loath to doe:
'Tis an ill office for a Gentleman,
Especially against his very friend.

*Du.* Where your good word cannot aduantage him,
Your flander neuer can endamage him;
Therefore the office is indifferent,
Being intreated to it by your friend.

*Pro.* You haue preuail'd (my Lord) if I can doe it
By ought that I can fpeake in his diſpraife,
She ſhall not long continue loue to him:
But ſay this weede her loue from Valentine,
It followes not that ſhe will loue fir Thurio.

*Th.* Therefore, as you vnwinde her loue from him;
Leaſt it ſhould rauell, and be good to none,
You muſt prouide to bottome it on me:
Which muſt be done, by prauing me as much
As you, in worth diſpraife, fir Valentine.

*Du.* And Protheus, we dare truſt you in this kinde,
Because we know (on Valentines report)
You are already loues firme votary,
And cannot ſoone reuolt, and change your minde.

Vpon this warrant, ſhall you haue acceſſe,
Where you, with Situia, may conferre at large.
For ſlue is lumpiſh, heaſy, mellancholly,
And (for your friends ſake) will be glad of you;
Where you may temper her, by your perſuafion,
To hate yong Valentine, and loue my friend.

*Pro.* As much as I can doe, I will effect:
But you ſit Thurio, are not ſharpe enough:
You muſt lay Lime, to tangle her defires
By walefull Sonnets, whose compoſed Rimes
Should be full fraught with ſeruiceable voweſ.

*Du.* I, much is the force of heauen-bred Poſſe.

*Proa.* Say that vpon the altar of her beauty
You ſacrifice your teares, your ſighes, your heart:
Write till your ink be dry: and with your teares
Moſt it againe: and frame ſome feeling line,
That may diſconer ſuch integrity:

For Orpheus Lute, was ſtrung with Poets ſinewes,
Whose golden touch could ſoſen ſteele and ſtones;
Make Tygers tame, and huge Leninghans
Forſake vnſounded deepes, to dance on Sands.
After your dire-lamenting Elegies,
Vſit after night your Ladies chamber-window
With ſome ſweet Conſort; To their Inſtruments
Tune a deploring dumpe: the nights dead ſilence
Will well become ſuch ſweet complaining grieuance:
This, or eſſe nothing, will inherit her.

*Du.* This diſcipline, ſhowes thou haſt bin in loue.

*Th.* And thy auide, this night, ile put in præſiſe:
Therefore, ſweet Protheus, my direction-giuer,
Let vs into the City pretlently
To ſort ſome Gentlemen, well skil'd in Muſicke.
I haue a Sonnet, that will ſerue the turne
To giue the on-fet to thy good auide.

*Du.* About it Gentlemen.

*Pro.* We'll wait vpon your Grace, till after Supper,
And afterward determine our proceedings.

*Du.* Euen now about it, I will pardon you. Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

*Enter Valentine, Speed, and certaine Out-lawes.*
*1. Out-l. Fellowes, ſtand ſaſt: I fee a paſſenger.*

*2. Out.* If there be ten, ſhrinke not, but down with'em.
*3. Out.* Stand fir, and throw vs that you haue about ye,
If not: we'll make you ſit, and rifle you.

*Sp.* Sit we are vndone; these are the Villaines
That all the Trauailers doe ſeare so much.

*Val.* My friends.

*1. Out.* That's not ſo, fir; we are your enemies.

*2. Out.* Peace: we'll heare him.

*3. Out.* I by my beard will we: for he is a proper man.

*Val.* Then know that I haue little wealth to loose;

A man I am, croſſ'd with aduerſitie:

My riches, are theſe poore habiliments,
Of which, if you ſhould here disſunſih me,
You take the ſum and ſubſtance that I haue.

*2. Out.* Whether trauell you?

*Val.* To Verona.

*1. Out.* Whence came you?

*Val.* From Mikame.

*3. Out.* Haue you long ſoiourn'd there?

*Val.* Some fixtene moneths, and longer might haue
If crooked fortune had not thwarted me.

*1. Out.* What, were you baniſh'd thence?

*Val.* I was.

*2. Out.* For what offence?

*Val.* For that which now torments me to rehearſe;
I kil'd a man, whose death I much repent,
But yet I ſlew him manfully, in fight,
Without ſalſe vantage, or bafe treachery.

*1. Out.* Why nere repent it, if it were done ſo?

But were you baniſht for ſo ſmall a fault?

*Val.* I was, and held me glad of ſuch a doome.

*2. Out.* Haue you the Tongues?

*Val.* My youthfull trauaile, therein made me happy,
Or eſſe I often had beene often miſerable.

*3. Out.* By the bare ſcalpe of Robin Hoods ſat Fryer,
This fellow were a King, for our wilde ſaction.

*1. Out.* We'll have him: Sirs, a word.

*Sp.* Maſter, be one of them:

It's an honourable kinde of thecuery.

*Val.* Peace villaine.

*2. Out.* Tell vs this: haue you any thing to take to?

*Val.* Nothing but my fortune.

*3. Out.* Know then, that ſome of vs are Gentlemen,
Such as the fury of vngouern'd youth
Thriftu from the company of awfull men,
My ſelfe was from Verona baniſhed,
For præſing to ſteele away a Lady,
And heire and Neece, alide vnto the Duke.

*2. Out.* And I from Mantua, for a Gentleman,
Who, in my moode, I ſtab'd vnto the heart.

*1. Out.* And I, for ſuch like petty crimes as theſe:
But to the purpofe: for we cite our faults,
That they may hold excus'd our lawleſſe liues;
And partly feeing you are beautiſeſe,
With goody ſhape; and by your owne report,
A Languifh, and a man of ſuch perfection,
As we doe in our quality much want.

*2. Out.* Indeede becauſe you are a baniſh'd man,
Therefore, aboue the reſt, we parley to you:
Are you content to be our Generall?

*3. Out.* What ſaſt thou? wilt thou be of our conſort?
Say I, and be the captaine of vs all:
We'll doe thee homage, and be rul'd by thee,
Loue thee, as our Commander, and our King.

*1. Out.*

The two Gentlemen of Verona.

33

1. *Out.* But if thou fcorne our curſeſſe, thou dyſeſt.

2. *Out.* Thou ſhalt not liue, to brag what we haue of Val. I take your offer; and will liue with you, (fer'd. Prouided that you do no outrages On ſilly women, or poore paffengers.

3. *Out.* No, we deteft ſuch vile bafe præſiſes. Come, goe with vs, we'll bring thee to our Crewes, And show thee all the Treasure we haue got; Which, with our ſelues, all reſt at thy diſpofe. Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

*Enter Protheus, Thurio, Iulia, Hoſt, Mufitian, Siluia.*

Pro. Already haue I bin falſe to Valentine, And now I muſt be as vnjuſt to Thurio, Under the colour of commending him, I haue acceſſe my owne loue to prefer. But Siluia is too faire, too true, too holy, To be corrupted with my worthſleſſe guifts; When I proteſt true loyalty to her, She twits me with my falſehood to my friend; When to her beauty I commend my vowes, She bids me thinke how I haue bin forſworne In breaking faith with Iulia, whom I lou'd; And notwithstanding all her ſodaine quips, The leaſt whereof would quell a louers hope: Yet (Spaniel-like) the more ſhe ſpurnes my loue, The more it growes, and fawneth on her ſtill; But here comes Thurio ; now muſt we to her window, And giue ſome euening Muſique to her eare.

Th. How now, fir Protheus, are you crept before vs ?

Pro. I gentle Thurio, for you know that loue

Will creepe in ſeruice, where it cannot goe.

Th. I, but I hope, Sir, that you loue not here.

Pro. Sir, but I doe: or else I would be hence.

Th. Who, Siluia?

Pro. I, Siluia, for your ſake.

Th. I thanke you for your owne: Now Gentlemen I let's tune : and to o it luftily a while.

Ho. Now, my yong guelt; me thinks your' allycholly; I pray you why is it?

Iu. Marry (mine Hoſt) becauſe I cannot be merry.

Ho. Come, we'll haue you merry: ile bring you where you shall heare Muſique, and fee the Gentleman that you ask'd for.

Iu. But ſhall I heare him ſpeake.

Ho. I that you ſhall.

Iu. That will be Muſique.

Ho. Harke, harke.

Iu. Is he among theſe?

Ho. I: but peace, let's heare'm.

Song. Who is Siluia? what is ſhe ?
That all our Swaines commend her ?
Holy faire, and wife is ſhe,
The beaune ſuch grace did lend her,
that ſhe might admired be.
Is ſhe kinder as ſhe is faire?
For beauty liues with kindneſſe :
Loue doth to her eyes repaire,
To helpe him of his blindneſſe :

And being help'd, inhabit there.
Then to Siluia, let us ſing,
That Siluia is excelling;
She excels each mortall thing
Upon the dull earth dwelling.
To her let vs Garlands bring.

Ho. How now? are you fadder then you were before; How do you, man? the Muſicke likes you not.

Iu. You miſtake: the Muſitian likes me not.

Ho. Why, my pretty youth?

Iu. He plaies falſe (father.)

Ho. How, out of tune on the strings.

Iu. Not ſo : but yet

So falſe that he grieues my very heart-strings.

Ho. You haue a quicke eare.

(heart.)

Iu. I, would I were deaſe : it makes me haue a flow

Ho. I perceiue you delight not in Muſique.

Iu. Not a whit, when it tars ſo.

Ho. Harke, what fine change is in the Muſique.

Iu. I: that change is the ipight.

Ho. You would haue them alwaies play but one thing.

Iu. I would alwaies haue one play but one thing, But Hoſt, doth this Sir Protheus, that we talke on, Often reſort vnto this Gentlewoman ?

Ho. I tell you what, Launce his man told me,

He lou'd her out of all nicke.

Iu. Where is Launce?

Ho. Gone to feefe his dog, which to morrow, by his Maſters command, hee muſt carry for a preſent to his Lady.

Iu. Peace, stand afide, the company parts.

Pro. Sir Thurio, ſeare not you, I will ſo pleade,

That you ſhall ſay, my cunning drift excels.

Th. Where meete we?

Pro. At Saint Gregories well.

Th. Farewell.

Pro. Madam: good eu'n to your Ladisſip.

Sil. I thanke you for your Muſique (Gentlemen) Who is that that ſpake?

Pro. One (Lady) if you knew his pure hearts truth, You would quickly learne to know him by his voice.

Sil. Sir Protheus, as I take it.

Pro. Sir Protheus (gentle Lady) and your Servant.

Sil. What's your will?

Pro. That I may compaſſe yours.

Sil. You haue your wif: my will is euen this, That preſently you hie you home to bed:

Thou ſubtle, periu'r d, falſe, diſloyall man : Think it thou I am ſo ſhallow, ſo conceit ſleſſe, To be ſeduced by thy flattery,

That has't deceiu'd ſo many with thy vowes ? Returne, returne and make thy loue amends :

For me (by this pale queene of night I ſware)

I am ſo farre from granting thy requeſt, That I deſpife thee, for thy wrong ſull ſuite; And by and by intend to chide my ſelfe,

Euen for this time I ſpend in talking to thee. Pro. I grant (ſweet loue) that I did loue a Lady, But ſhe is dead.

Iu. 'Twere falſe, if I ſhould ſpeake it; For I am ſure ſhe is not buried.

Sil. Say that ſhe be : yet Valentine thy friend Suruues; to whom (thy ſelfe art witneſſe) I am betroth'd ; and art thou not aſham'd To wrong him, with thy importunacy?

Pre.

34

The two Gentlemen of Verona.

*Pro.* I likewise heare that Valentine is dead.
*Sil.* And so fuppofe am I; for in her graue
Afflure thy selfe, my loue is buried.

*Pro.* Sweet Lady, let me rake it from the earth.

*Sil.* Goe to thy Ladies graue and call hers thence,
Or at the leaft, in hers, sepulcher thine.

*Iul.* He heard not that.

*Pro.* Madam: if your heart be so obdurate:
Vouchsafe me yet your Picture for my loue,
The Picture that is hanging in your chamber:
To that ile fpeake, to that ile figh and weepe:
For fince the subftance of your perſeet ſelfe
Is ſelſe deuoted, I am but a ſhadow;
And to your ſhadow, will I make true loue.

*Iul.* If twere a subſtance you would ſure deuie it,
And make it but a ſhadow, as I am.

*Sil.* I am very loath to be your Idoll Sir;
But, ſince your falſehood ſhall become you well
To worſhip ſhadowes, and adore ſalſe ſhapes,
Send to me in the morning, and ile ſend it:
And ſo, good reſt.

*Pro.* As wretches haue ore-night
That wait for execution in the morne.

*Iul.* Hoc, will you goe ?

*Ho.* By my hallidome, I was ſaſt aſſelee.

*Iul.* Pray you, where lies Sir Protheus ?

*Ho.* Marry, at my houſe :

Trauſ me, I thinke 'tis almost day.

*Iul.* Not so: but it hath bin the longeſt night
That ere I watch'd, and the moſt heauie it.

## Scena Tertia.

### Enter Eglamoure, Siluia.

*Eg.* This is the houre that Madam Siluia
Entreated me to call, and know her minde :
Ther's ſome great matter ſhe'd employ me in,
Madam, Madam.

*Sil.* Who cals?

*Eg.* Your ſeruant, and your friend;

One that attends your Ladifhips command,

*Sil.* Sir Eglamoure, a thouſand times good morrow.

*Eg.* As many (worthy Lady) to your ſelſe :
According to your Ladifhips impoſe,
I am thus early come, to know what ſeruice
It is your pleafure to command me in.
Sil. Oh Eglamoure, thou art a Gentleman :
Thinke not I flatter (for I ſweare I doe not)
Valiant, wife, ſemorſe full, well accompliſh'd.
Thou art not ignorant what deere good will
I beare vnto the baniſh'd Valentine:

Nor how my father would enforce me marry
Vaine Theurio (whom my very foule abhor'd.)
Thy ſelſe haſt lou'd, and I haue heard thee ſay
No griefe did euener come ſo neere thy heart,
As when thy Lady, and thy true-loue dide,
Vpon whose Graue thou vow'dft pure chaſtitie :
Sir Eglamoure: I would to Valentine
To Manua, where I heare, he makes aboaf;
And for the waies are dangerous to paffe,
I doe define thy worthy company,

Upon whose faith and honor, I repoſe.
Vrge not my fathers anger (Eglamoure)
But thinke vpon my griefe (a Ladies griefe)
And on the iſtice of my flying hence,
To keepe me from a moſt vnholy match,
Which heauen and fortune ſill rewards with plagues,
I doe define thee, euen from a heart
As full of forrowes, as the Sea of lands,
To beare me company, and goe with me:
If not, to hide what I haue faid to thee,
That I may venture to depart alone.

*Egl.* Madam, I pitty much your grieuances,
Which, ſince I know they vertuouſly are plac'd,
I giue conſent to goe along with you,
Wreaking as little what betideth me,
As much, I with all good beſtortune you.
When will you goe?

*Sil.* This euening comming.

*Eg.* Where ſhall I meete you?

*Sil.* At Frier Patrickes Cell,
Where I intend holy Conſeption.

*Eg.* I will not faile your Ladifship :
Good morrow (gentle Lady).

*Sil.* Good morrow, kinde Sir Eglamoure. Exennt.

## Scena Quarta.

### Enter Launce, Protheus, Iulia, Siluia.

*Lau.* When a man ſeruant ſhall play the Curre with
him (looke you) it goes hard: one that I brought vp of
a puppy: one that I ſau'd from drowning, when three or
four ſoure of his blinde brothers and lifters went to it: I haue
taught him (euen as I would ſay precifely, thus I
would teach a dog) I was ſent to deliuer him, as a pre-
fent to Mitris Siluia, from my Maſter; and I came no
ſooner into the dyning-chamber, but he ſteps me to her
Trencher, and ſtales her Capons-leg: O, 'tis a foule
thing, when a Curr cannot keepe himſelfe in all compa-
nies: I would haue (as one ſhould ſay) one that takes vp
on him to be a dog indeede, to be, as it were, a dog at all
things. If I had not had more wit then he, to take a fault
vpon me that he did, I thinke verily hee had bin hang'd
for't: ſure as I liue he had ſuffer'd for't: you ſhall iudge:
Hee thrutts me himſelfe into the company of three or
four ſoure gentleman-like-dogs, vnder the Dukes table: hee
had not bin there (bleſſeth the marke) a pifſing while, but
all the chamber ſmelt him: out with the dog (faies one)
what cur is that (faies another) whip him out (faies the
third) hang him vp (faies the Duke.) I hauing bin ac-
quainted with the ſmell before, knew it was Crab; and
goes me to the fellow that whips the dogges: friend
(quoth I) you meane to whip the dog: I marry doe I
(quoth he) you doe him the more wrong (quoth I) 'twas
I did the thing you wot of: he makes me no more adoe,
but whips me out of the chamber: how many Maſlers
would doe this for his ſeruant? nay, ile be (worne) I haue
fat in the ſtockes, for puddings he hath ſtolne, otherwife
he had bin executed: I haue food on the Pillorie for
Geeſe he hath kil'd, otherwife he had ſuffer'd for't: thou
think't not of this now: nay, I remember the tricke you
feru'd me, when I tooke my leaue of Madam Siluia: did

not

["The two Gentlemen of Verona.", "35", "not I bid thee still mark me, and doe as I do; when did it\nthou fee me heauè vp my leg; and make water against a\nGentlewomen farthingale ? did it thou euer fee me doe\n(fuch a tricke) ?", "Pro. Sebastian is thy name: like thee well,", "And will employ thee in some feruice prefently.", "Iu. In what you please, ile doe what I can.", "Pro. I hope thou will.", "How now you whor-fon pezant?", "Where haue you bin these two dayes loytering?", "La. Marry, Sir, I carried Miftris Siluia the dogge you\nbad me.", "Pro. And what faies flue to my little Jewell?", "La. Marry the faies your dog was a cur, and tels you\ncurriſh thanks is good enough for such a preſent.", "Pro. But he recei'd my dog?", "La. No indeede did he not :", "Here haue I brought him backe againe :", "Pro. What, did it thou offer her this from me?", "La. I, Sir, the other Squirrell was folne from me", "By the Hangmans boyes in the market place,", "And then I offer'd her mine owne, who is a dog.", "As big as ten of yours, & therefore the guift the greater.", "Pro. Goe, get thee hence, and find my dog againe,", "Or nere returne againe into my fight.", "Away, I lay : ſtay left thou to vece me here :", "A Slaue, that fill an end, turns me to ſhame :", "Sebastian, I haue entertained thee,", "Partly that I haue neede of ſuch a youth,", "That can with ſome diſcretion do my businesſe :", "For't is no truſting to yond fooliſh Lowt ;", "But chiefely, for thy face, and thy behauiour,", "Which (if my Augury deciſe me not) :", "Witneſſe good bringing vp, fortune, and truth :", "Therefore know thee, for this I entertaine thee.", "Go preſently, and take this Ring with thee,", "Deliuer it to Madam Siluia ;", "She lou'd me well, deliuer'd it to me.", "Iul. It ſeemes you lou'd not her, not leauë her token :", "She is dead belike ?", "Pro. Not so: I thinke the lives,", "Iu. Alas.", "Pro. Why do't thou cry alas ?", "Iu. I cannot choose but pity her.", "Pro. Wherefore should it thou pity her ?", "Iu. Because, me thinkes that he lou'd you as well", "As you doe loue your Lady Siluia :", "She dreames on him, that has ſorg'd her loue,", "You doate on her, that cares not for your loue.", "Tis pity Loue, should be so contrary :", "And thinking on it, makes me cry alas.", "Pro. Well: giue her that Ring, and therewithall", "This Letter: that's her chamber: Tell my Lady,", "I claime the promife for her heavenly Picture :", "Your meſſage done, hye home vnto my chamber,", "Where thou ſhalt finde me sad, and ſolitarie.", "Iu. How many women would doe such a meſſage?", "Alas poore Protheus, thou haſt entertain'd", "A Foxe, to be the Shepheard of thy Lambs ;", "Alas, poore foole, why, does I pitty him", "That with his very heart deſpith me ?", "Because he loues her, he deſpith me,", "Because I loue him, I muſt pitty him.", "This Ring I gaue him, when he parted from me,", "To binde him to remember my good will :", "And now am I (vnhappy Meſſenger)", "To plead for that, which I would not obtaine ;", "To carry that, which I would haue refus'd ;", "To praife his faith, which I would haue diſprais'd.", "I am my Maſters true confirmed Loue,", "But cannot be true ſeruant to my Maſter,", "Vnleſſe I proue ſalſe traitor to my ſelſe.", "Yet will I woe for him, but yet so coldly,", "As (heauen it knowes) I would not haue him ſpeed.", "Gentlewoman, good day: I pray you be my meane", "To bring me where to ſpeake with Madam Siluia.", "SIL. What would you with her, if that I be ſhe ?", "Iu. If you be ſhe, I doe intreat your patience", "To heare me ſpeake the meſſage I am ſent on.", "SIL. From whom?", "Iu. From my Maſter, Sir Protheus, Madam.", "SIL. Oh: he ſends you for a Picture ?", "Iu. I, Madam.", "SIL. Vrfula, bring my Picture there,", "Goe, giue your Maſter this: tell him from me,", "One Iulia, that his changing thoughts forger", "Would better fit his Chamber, then this Shadow.", "Iu. Madam, please you perſuse this Letter ;", "Pardon me (Madam) I haue vnaduis'd", "Deliuer'd you a paper that I should not ;", "This is the Letter to your Ladiship.", "SIL. I pray thee let me looke on that againe.", "Iu. It may not be : good Madam pardon me.", "SIL. There, hold :", "I will not looke vpon your Maſters lines :", "I know they are ſtult with proteſations,", "And full of new-found oathes, which he will breake", "As easily, as I doe teare his paper.", "Iu. Madam, he lends your Ladiship this Ring.", "SIL. The more ſhame for him, that he ſends it me ;", "For I haue heard him ſay a thouſand times,", "His Iulia gaue it him, at his departure :", "Though his ſalſe finger haue prophan'd the Ring,", "Mine ſhall not doe his Iulia to much wrong.", "Iu. She thanks you.", "SIL. What ſaith thou ?", "Iu. I thanke you Madam, that you tender her :", "Poore Gentlewoman, my Maſter wrongs her much.", "SIL. Do't thou know her ?", "Iu. Almoſt as well as I do know my ſelſe.", "To thinke vpon her woes, I doe proteſt", "That I haue wept a hundred ſeverall times.", "SIL. Belike ſhe thinks that Protheus hath forſook her?", "Iu. I thinke ſhe doth: and that's her cause of ſorrow.", "SIL. Is ſhe not paſſing faire ?", "Iu. She hath bin fairer (Madam) then ſhe is ;", "When ſhe did thinke my Maſter lou'd her well ;", "She, in my iudgement, was as faire as you.", "But ſince ſhe did neglect her looking -glasse,", "And threw her Sun-expelling Maſque away,", "The ayre hath ſtaru'd the roſes in her cheeks,", "And pinch'd the lilly-tinture of her face,", "That now ſhe is become as blacke as I.", "SIL. How tall was ſhe ?", "Iu. About my ſtature: for at Pentecost,", "When all our Pageants of delight were plaid,", "Our youth got me to play the womans part,", "And I was trim'd in Madam Iulias gowne,", "Which feru'd me as ſic, by all mens iudgements,", "As if the garment had bin made for me :", "Therefore I know ſhe is about my height,", {"bbox": [464, 1349, 752, 1370], "category": "Text", "text

36

The two Gentlemen of Verona.

For I did play a lamentable part.
(Madam) 'twas Ariadne, paffioning
For Theus periury, and vnliuſt flight;
Which I ſo liuelily acted with my teares:
That my poore Miftris moured therewithall,
Wept bitterly: and would I might be dead,
If I in thought felt not her very ſorrow.
Sil. She is beholding to thee (gentle youth)
Alas (poore Lady) delofate, and left;
I weepe my ſelfe to thinke vpon thy words:
Here youth: there is my purſe: I giue thee this
(well) For thy sweet Miftris ſake, becauſe thou louſt her. Fare-
Iul. And ſhe shall thanke you for't, if there you know
A vertuous gentlewoman, milde, and beautifull. (her.
I hope my Maſters ſuit will be but cold,
Since ſhe reſpects my Miftris loue ſo much.
Alas, how loue can trifle with it ſelfe :
Here is her Picture: let me ſee, I thinke
If I had ſuch a Tyre, this face of mine
Were full as louelouely, as is this of hers;
And yet the Painter flatter'd her a little,
Vnleſſe I flatter with my ſelfe too much.
Her haire is Aburie, mine is perſect Yellow;
If that be all the difference in his loue,
Ile get me ſuch a coulour'd Perrywig:
Her eyes are grey as glaſſe, and I am mine:
I, but her fore-head's low, and mine's as high:
What ſhould it be that he reſpects in her,
But I can make reſpectue in my ſelfe :
If this fond Loue, were not a blinded god.
Come ſhadow, come, and take this ſhadow vp,
For'tis thy riuall: O thou ſenceſſe forme,
Thou ſhalt be worſhip'd, kifs'd, lou'd, and ador'd;
And were there ſence in his Idolatry,
My ſubſtance ſhould be ſtatue in thy ſtead.
Ile vſe thee kindly, for thy Miftris ſake
That vs'd me ſo: or else by loue, I vow,
I should haue ſeratch'd out your vnſeeing eyes,
To make my Maſter out of loue with thee.
Exeunt.

## Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Eglamoure, Silvia.

Egl. The Sun begins to gild the weſterne skie,
And now it is about the very houre
That Silvia, at Fryer Patrick's Cell should meet me,
She will not faile; for Louers breake not houres,
Vnleſſe it be to come before their time,
So much they ſpur their expedition.
See where ſhe comes: Lady a happy euening.

Sil. Amen, Amen: goe on (good Eglamoure)
Out at the Poſterne by the Abbey wall;
I feare I am attended by some Spies.

Egl. Feare not: the Forreſt is not three leagues off,
If we recouer that, we are ſure enough.
Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Thurio, Protheus, Iulia, Duke.

Th. Sir Protheus, what faies Silvia to my ſuit?

Pro. Oh Sir, I finde her milder then ſhe was,
And yet ſhe takes exceptions at your perſon.

Thw. What ? that my leg is too long?

Pro. No, that it is too little. (der.)

Thw. Ile weare a Boote, to make it ſomewhat roun-

Pro. But loue will not be ſpur'd to what it loathes.

Thw. What faies ſhe to my face?

Pro. ſhe ſaies it is a faire one.

Thw. Nay then the wanton lyes: my ſace is blacke.

Pro. But Pearles are faire; and the old laying is,

Blacke men are Pearles, in beauteous Ladies eyes.

Thw. 'Tis true, ſuch Pearles as put out Ladies eyer,
For I had rather winke, then looke on them,

Thw. How likes ſhe my diſcourſe?

Pro. Ill, when you talke of war.

Thw. But well, when I diſcourſe of loue and peace,

Iul. But better indeede, when you hold you peace.

Thw. What ſayes ſhe to my valour?

Pro. Oh Sir, ſhe makes no doubt of that.

Iul. ſhe needes not, when ſhe knowes it cowardize.

Thw. What ſaies ſhe to my birth?

Pro. That you are well deriu'd.

Ial. True: from a Gentleman, to a fool.

Thw. Confiders ſhe my Poſſeffions?

Tro. Oh, I: and pitties them.

Thw. Wherefore?

Iul. That ſuch an Aſſe ſhould owe them.

Pro. That they are out by Leafe.

Iul. Here comes the Duke.

Du. How now sir Protheus; how now Thurio?

Which of you saw Eglamoure of late?

Thw. Not I.

Pro. Nor I.

Du. Saw you my daughter?

Pro. Neither.

Du. Why then

She's ſled vnto that pezant, Valentine;

And Eglamoure is in her Company:

'Tis true: for Frier Laurence met them both
As he, in pennance wander'd through the Forreſt:
Him he knew well: and gueld that it was ſhe,
But being mask'd, he was not ſure of it.
Besides ſhe did intend Conſession
At Patrick's Cell this euen, and there ſhe was not.
The ſe likelihoods confirme her flight from hence;
Therefore I pray you ſtand, not to diſcourſe,
But mount you preſently, and meete with me
Vpon the riling of the Mountaine fooſe
That leads toward Mantua, whether they are ſled:
Diſpatch (sweet Gentlemen) and follow me.

Thw. Why this it is, to be a peeuith Girle,
That flies her fortune when it followes her:
Ile after; more to be reueng'd on Eglamoure,
Then for the loue of reck-leſſe Silvia.

Pro. And I will follow, more for Silvia loue
Then hate of Eglamoure that goes with her.

Iul. And I will follow, more to croſſe that loue
Then hate for Silvia, that is gone for loue.
Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Silvia, One-Lawes.

I. Out. Come, come be patient:

We

The Merry Wines of Windsor.

37

We must bring you to our Captaine.

Sil. A thousand more mifchances then this one
Hae learn'd me how to brooke this patiently.

2 Oat. Come, bring me away.

X Out. Where is the Gentleman that was with her ?

3 Out. Being nimble footed, he hath out-run vs.

But Mayfer and Valerius follow him :

Goe thou with her to the West end of the wood,
There is our Captaine: Wee'll follow him that's fled,
The Thicket is betef, he cannot fcapc.

1 Out. Come, I must bring you to our Captains cause.
Feare not: he beares an honourable minde,
And will not vfe a woman lawlefly.

Sil. O Valentine: this I endure for thee.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Valentine, Protherus, Siluia, Imlia, Duke, Thurio,
Out-lawer.

Val. How vse doth breed a habit in a man ?

This shadowy defart, vnfrequented woods
I better brooke then flourishing peopled Townes :

Here can I fit alone, vn-feene of any,
And to the Nightingales complaining Notes
Tune my diftrefles, and record my woes.

O thou that doft inhabit in my breft,

Leaue not the Manfion to long Tenant-leffe,

Left growing ruinous, the building fall,

And leaue no memory of what it was,

Repaire me, with thy prefence, Silvia :

Thou gentle Nimph, cherish thy for-lorne swaine.

What hallowing, and what flit is this to day ?

These are my mates, that make their wills their Law,

Hae some vnhappy passenger in chace ;

They loue me well: yet I have much to doe

To keepe them from vnciuill outrages.

Withdraw thee Valentine: who's this comes here ?

Pro. Madam, this feruice I haue done for you
(Though you reſpect not aught your feruant doth )
To hazard life, and reskew you from him,
That would haue fore'd your honour, and your loue,
Vouchſafe me for my meed, but one faire looke:

(A smaller boone then this I cannot beg,

And leſſe then this, I am ſure you cannot giue.)

Val. How like a dreame is this ? I fee, and heare ?

Loue, lend me patience to forbeare a while.

Sil. O miferable, vnhappy that I am.

Pro. Vnhappy were you (Madam) ere I came :

But by my comming, I haue made you happy.

Sil. By thy approach thou mak'st me moſt vnhappy.

Jul. And me, when he approcheth to your prefence.

Sil. Had I beene ceased by a hungry Lion,

I would haue beene a break-faft to the Beaſt,

Rather then haue falſe Protherus reskue me:
Oh heauen be iudge how I loue Valentine,
Whofe life's as tender to me as my ſoule,
And full as much (for more there cannot be)

I doe deteft falſe periur'd Protherus :

Therefore be gone, ſollicit me no more.

Pro. What dangerous action, ſtood it next to death
Would I not undergoe, for one calme looke :

Oh'tis the curse in Loue, and still approu'd

When women cannot loue, where they're belou'd.

Sil. When Protherus cannot loue, where he's belou'd:
Read ouer Iulia's heart, (thy firſt beſt Loue)

For whose deare ſake, thou diſſt then rend thy faith

Into a thousand oathes; and all theſo oathes,

Defended into periury, to loue me,

Thou haſt no faith left now, vnleſſe thou'dſt two,

And that's ſare worſe then none: better haue none

Then plurall faith, which is too much by one :

Thou Counterſeſt, to thy true friend.

Pro. In Loue,

Who reſpects friend ?

Sil. All men but Protherus.

Pro. Nay, if the gentle ſpirit of mouing words
Cann o way change you to a milder forme,

He wooe you like a Souldier, at armes end,

And loue you 'gainſt the nature of Loue: force ye.

Sil. Oh heauen.

Pro. Ile force thee ycieel to my deſire.

Val. Ruffian: let goe that rude vnciuill touch,

Thou friend of an ill ſtyle fashion.

Pro. Valentine.

Val. Thou common friend, that's without faith or loue,
For fuch is a friend now: treacherous man,

Thou haſt beguil'd my hopes; nought but mine eye

Could haue perfuaded me : now I dare not ſay

I haue one friend allie: thou wouldſt diſproue me :

Who should be truſted, when ones right hand

Is periured to the boſe me ? Protherus

I am forſy I muſt neuer truſt thee more,

But count the world a ſtranger for thy ſake :

The priuate wound is deepeſt: oh time, moſt accuſt:

'Mongſt all foes that a friend ſhould be the worſt ?

Pro. My ſhame and guilt confounds me :

Forgive me Valentine: if heary forrow

Be a ſufficient Ranſome for offence,

I tender'c heere: I doe as truly ſuffer,

As ere I did commit.

Val. Then I am paid :

And once againe, I doe receiue thee honest ;

Who by Repentance is not ſatistified,

Is nor of heauen, nor earth; for the re are pleas'd :

By Penitence th'Eternalls wrath's appeas'd :

And that my loue may appeare plaine and free,

All that was mine, in Siluia, I giue thee.

Jul. Oh me vnhappy.

Pro. Looke to the Boy.

Val. Why, Boy ?

Why wag: how now ? what's the matter? look vp: ſpeak.

Jul. O good fir, my maſter charg'd me to deliuer a ring
to Madam Siluia: w (out of my neglect) was neuer done.

Pro. Where is that ring ? boy ?

Jul. Herec'tis: this is it.

Pro. How let me fee.

Why this is the ring I gaue to Iulia.

Jul. Oh, cry you mercy fir, I haue miſtooke :

This is the ring you ſent to Siluia.

Pro. But how cam't thou by this ring ? at my depart
I gaue this vnto Iulia.

Jul. And Iulia her ſelfe did giue it me,

And Iulia her ſelfe hath brought it hither.

Pro. How ? Iulia?

Jul. Behold her, that gaue ayme to all thy oathes,
And entertain'd 'em deeply in her heart.

How oft haſt thou with periury cleft the roote ?

Oh Protherus, let this habit make thee bluſh.

D

Be

The Merry Wines of Windsor.

38

Be thou afham'd that I haue tooke vpon me,
Such an immodest rayment; if shame liue
In a difguise of loue?

It is the lesser blot modety findes,

Women to change their shapes, then men their minds.

Pro. Then men their minds? is true: oh heauen, were man

But Conftant, he were perfect; that one error

Fils him with faults: makes him run through all th'fins;
Inconstancy falls off, ere it begins:

What is in Siluia's face, but I may spie

More fresh in Iulia's, with a conftant eye?

Val. Come, come: a hand from either:

Let me be bleſt to make this happy cloſe:

'Twere pitty two ſuch friends should be long foes.

Pro. Beare witnes (heauen) I haue my will for euer.

Inl. And I mine.

Out-l. A prize: a prize: a prize.

Val. Forbeare, forbeare I fay: It is my Lord the Duke.

Your Grace is welcome to a man difgrac'd,
Banifhed Valentine.

Duke. Sir Valentine?

Thu. Yonder is Siluia: and Siluia's mine.

Val. Thurio giue backe; or else embrace thy death:

Come not within the measure of my wrath:

Doe not name Siluia thine: if once againe,

Verona (shall not hold thee: heere she stands,

Take but poffeffion of her, with a Touch:

I dare thee, but to breath vpon my Loue.

Thur. Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I:

I hold him but a foole that will endanger

His Body, for a Girle that loues him not:

I claime her not, and therefore ſhe is thine.

Duke. The more degenerate and base art thou

To make ſuch meanes for her, as thou haſt done,

And leaue her on ſuch flight conditions.

Now, by the honor of my Anceſtry,
I doe applaud thy ſpirit, Valentine,

And thinke thee worthy of an Empresse loue:

Know then, I heere forget all former greeffes,

Cancell all grudge, reenteeme thee home againe,

Plead a new ſtate in thy vn-riual'd merit,

To which I thus ſubſcribe: Sir Valentine,

Thou art a Gentleman, and well deriu'd,

Take thou thy Siluia, for thou haſt deferu'd her.

Val. I thank your Grace, a gift hath made me happy:

I now beſeech you (for your daughters ſake)

To grant one Boone that I ſhall aske of you.

Duke. I grant it (for thine owne) what ere it be.

Val. Theſe banifh'd men, that I haue kept withall,

Are men endu'd with worthy qualities:

Forgive them what they haue committed here,

And let them be recall'd from their Exile:

They are reformed, ciuill, full of good,

And fit for great employment (worthy Lord.)

Duke. Thou haſt preuail'd, I pardon them and thee:

Difpofe of them, as thou knowſt their deferts.

Come, let vs goe, we will include all iarres,

With Triumphes, Mirth, and rare Solemnity.

Val. And as we walke along, I dare be bold

With our diſcourſe, to make your Grace to ſmile.

What thinke you of this Page (my Lord?)

Duke. I think the Boy hath grace in him, he bluſhes.

Val. I warrant you (my Lord) more grace, then Boy,

Duke. What meane you by that ſaying?

Val. Pleafe you, Ile tell you, as we paffe along,

That you will wonder what hath fortuned:

Come Protheus, 'tis your pennance, but to heare

The ſtory of your Loues diſcouered.

That done, our day of marriage ſhall be yours,

One Feast, one house, one mutuall happineſt. Exeunt.

The names of all the Actors.

Duke: Father to Siluia.

Valentine.

Protheus.

the two Gentlemen.

Anthony: father to Protheus.

Thurio: a foolish riuall to Valentine.

Eglamoure: Agent for Siluia in her eſcape.

Hoft: where Iulia lodges.

Out-lawes with Valentine.

Speed: a clownish ſeruant to Valentine.

Launce: the like to Protheus.

Panthion: ſeruant to Antonio.

Iulia: beloved of Protheus.

Siluia: beloved of Valentine.

Lucetta: weighting-woman to Iulia.

FINIS.

THE

THE
Merry Wives of Windsor.

Aclus primus, Scena prima.

Enter Justice Shallow, Slender, Sir Hugh Evans, Maſter Page, Falſtoſſe, Bardolph, Nym, Piftoll, Anne Page, Miſtreſſe Ford, Miſtreſſe Page, Simple.

Shallow.

It Hugh, perfwade me not: I will make a Star-
Chamber matter of it, if hee were twenty Sir
John Falſtoſſ, he ſhall not abuse Robert Shallow
Eſquire.

(Coram,

Shal. In the County of Glaceſter, Iuſtice of Peace and
Shal. I (Cofen Sleuſder) and Cruſſ-alorum.

Shen. I, and Rato lorum too; and a Gentleman borne
(Maſter Parſon) who writes himſelfe Armigero, in any
Bill, Warrant, Quittance, or Obligation, Armigero.

Shal. I that I doe, and haue done any time theſe three
hundred yeeres.

Shen. All his ſucceffors (gone before him) hath don't:
and all his Anceſtors (that come after him) may : they
may giue the dozen white Luces in their Coate.

Shal. It is an olde Coate.

Euans. The dozen white Lowſes doe become an old
Coat well it agrees well paffant: It is a familiar beaſt to
man, and signifies Loue.

Shal. The Luſe is the fresh-ſiſh, the ſalt-ſiſh, is an old
Coate.

Shen. I may quarter (Coz).

Shal. You may, by marrying.

Euans. It is matring indeed, if he quarter it.

Shal. Not a whit.

Euan. Yes per-lady: if he ha's a quarter of your coat,
there is but three Skirts for your ſelfe, in my ſimple con-
ſtatures; but that is all one : if Sir John Fallſaſſe haue
committed disparagements vnto you, I am of the Church
and will be glad to do my beneuolence, to make atton-
ements and compremifes betweene you.

Shal. The Councell ſhall heare it, it is a Riot.

Euan. It is not meet the Councell heare a Riot: there
is no ſeare of Got in a Riot: The Councell (looke you)
ſhall deſire to heare the ſeare of Got, and not to heare a
Riot: take your viza-ments in that.

Shal. Ha; o my life, if I were yong againe, the ſword
should end it.

Euans. It is petter that friends is the ſword, and end
it: and there is alſo another device in my praine, which
peraduenture prins goot diſcretions with it. There is
Anne Page, which is daughter to Maſter Thomas Page,
which is pretty virginity.

Slen. Miſtris Anne Page? she has browne hair, and
ſpeakes ſmall like a woman.

Euans. It is that ferry perſon for all the orld, as iuſt as
you will deſire, and ſeuen hundred pounds of Moneye,
and Gold, and Siluer, is her Grand-ſire vpon his deaths-
bed, (Got deliuer to a ioyfull ſhiftufections) giue, when
ſhe is able to ouertake ſeuenteene yeeres old. It were a
goot motion, if we leaue our pribbles and prabbles, and
deſire a marriage betweene Maſter Abraham, and Miſtris
Anne Page.

Shen. Did her Grand-ſire leaue her ſeuen hundred
pound?

Euans. I, and her father is make her a petter penny.

Shen. I know the young Gentlewoman, she has good
gifts.

Euans. ſeuen hundred pounds, and poſſibilities, is
goot gifts.

Shal. Wel, let vs ſee honest Mr. Page: is Falſaſſe there?

Euans. Shall I tell you a lye? I doe deſpife a lyer, as I,
doe deſpife one that is falſe, or as I deſpife 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 doore for Mr.
Page. What hou? Got-pleſe your houſe here.

Mr. Page. Who's there?

Euans. Here is go't pleſing and your friend, and Iu-
ſtice Shallow, and heere yong Maſler Slender: that perad-
uentures ſhall tell you another tale, if matters grow to
your likings.

Mr. Page. I am glad to ſee your Worſhips well : I
thanke you for my Venifon Maſter Shallow.

Shal. Maſter Page, I am glad to ſee you: much good
doe it your good heart: I wiſh'd your Venifon better, it
was ill kill'd: how doth good Miſtreſſe Page? and I thank
you alwaies with my heart, la: with my heart.

Mr. Page. Sir, I thanke you.

Shal. Sir, I thanke you: by yea, and no I doe.

Mr. Pa. I am glad to ſee you, good Maſter Slender.

Shen. How do's your fallow Greyhound, Sir; I heard
ſay he was out-run on Cotſall.

Mr. Pa. It could not be iudg'd, Sir.

Shen. You'll not confefſe: you'll not confefſe.

Shal. That he will not, 'tis your fault, 'tis your fault:
'tis a good dogge.

Mr. Pa. A Cur, Sir.

Shal. Sir: hee's a good dog, and a faire dog, can there
be more Said? he is good, and faire. Is Sir John Fallſaſſe
here?

Mr. Pa. Sir, hee is within: and I would I could doe a
good office be twcene you.

Euans. It is ſpoke as a Chriſtians ought to ſpeake.

Shal. He hath wrong'd me (Maſter Page.)

Mr. Pa. Sir, he doth in ſome ſort confefſe it.

D 2

Shal.

40

The Merry Wives of Windsor.

Shal. If it be confeſſed, it is not redreſſed; is not that
fo (M.Page?) he hath wrong'd me, indeed he hath, at a
word he hath: beleeue me, Robert Shallow Eſquire, faith
he is wronged.

Ma. Pa. Here comes Sir John.

Fal. Now, Maſter Shallow, you'll complaine of me to
the King?

Shal. Knight, you haue beaten my men, kill'd my
deere, and broke open my Lodge.

Fal. But not kif'd your Keepers daughter?

Shal. Tut, a pin this shall be anſwer'd.

Fal. I will anſwere it ſtrait, I haue done all this:
That is now anſwer'd.

Shal. The Councell shall know this.

Fal. 'Twere better for you if it were known in coun-
cell: you'll be laugh'd at.

En. Pausa verba ; (Sir John) good worts.

Fal. Good worts? good Cabidge ; Slender, I broke
your head: what matter haue you againſt me?

Slen. Marry fir, I haue matter in my head againſt you,
and againſt your cony-catching Raſcalls, Bardolf, Nym,
and Pifſoll.

Bar. You Banbery CHeeſe.

Slen. I, it is no matter.

Pifſ. How now, Mepboſophilus?

Slen. I, it is no matter.

Nym. Slice, I ſay; paſca, paſca: Slice, that's my humor.

Slen. Where's Simple my man ? can you tell, Cofen ?

Ena. Peace, I pray you: now let vs vnderſtand: there
is three Vmpires in this matter, as I vnderſtand; that is,
Maſter Page (fidelicet Maſter Page,) & there is my ſelfe,
(fidelicet my ſelfe) and the three party is (laſtly, and fi-
nally) mine Hoſt of the Gater.

Ma. Pa. We three to hear it,& end it between them.

Enan. Ferry goo't, I will make a prieſe of it in my
note-booke, and we will afterwards orke vpon the cauſe,
with as great diſcreetly as we can.

Fal. Pifſoll.

Pifſ. He heares with eares.

Enan. The Teuill and his Tam: what phraſe is this?
he heares with eare? why, it is affeſtations.

Fal. Pifſoll, did you picke M. Slenders purſe?

Slen. By theſe gloues did hee, or I would might
neuer come in mine owne great chamber againe elfe, of
ſeauen groates in mill-ſixpences, and two Edward Sho-
uelboards, that coſt me two ſhilling and two pence a
piece of Tend Miller: by theſe gloues.

Fal. Is this true, Pifſoll?

Enan. No, it is falſe, if it is a picke-purſe.

Pifſ. Ha, thou mountaine Fortreyner : Sir John, and
Maſter mine, I combat challenge of this Latine Bilboe:
word of deniall in thy labras here; word of denial; froth,
and ſcum thou lieſt.

Slen. By theſe gloues, then 'twas he.

Nym. Be auis'd fir, and pafſe good humours : I will
fay marry trap with you, if you runne the nut-hooks hu-
mor on me, that is the very note of it.

Slen. By this hat, then he in the red face had it: for
though I cannot remember what I did when you made
me drunke, yet I am not altogether an aſſe.

Fal. What ſay you Scarlet, and Iohn?

Bar. Why fir, (for my part) I fay the Gentleman had
drunke himſelfe out of his ſiue ſentences.

Eu. It is his ſiue ſences: ſie, what the ignorance is.

Bar. And being ſap, fir, was (as they ſay) caſheerd: and
ſo conclusions pafſt the Car-eires.

Slen. I, you ſpake in Latten then to: but 'tis no mat-
ter; Ile nere be drunk whilſt I liue againe, but in honeſt,
ciuił, godly company for this tricke: if I be drunke, Ile
be drunke with theſe that haue the ſeare of God, and not
with drunken knaues.

Euan. So got-udge me, that is a vertuons minde.

Fal. You heare all theſe matters deni'd, Gentlemen;
you heare it.

M. Page. Nay daughter, carry the wine in, wee'll
drinke within.

Slen. Oh heauen: This is Mifſtreſſe Anne Page.

M. Page. How now Miftris Ford?

Fal. Miftris Ford, by my troth you are very wel mact:
by your leaue good Miftris.

M. Page. Wife, bid theſe gentlemen welcome: come,
we haue a hot Venifon pafſy to dinner ; Come gentle-
men, I hope we ſhall drinke downe all vnkindneſſe.

Slen. I had rather then forty ſhilling I had my booke
of ſongs and Sonnets heere : How now Simple, where
haue you beene ? I muſt wait on my ſelfe, muſt I ? you
haue not the booke of Riddles about you, haue you ?

Sim. Booke of Riddles ? why did you not lend it to
Alice Short-cake vpon Alhallowmas laſt, a fortnight a-
fore Michaelmas.

Shal. Come Coz, come Coz, we ſay for you: a word
with you Coz: marry this, Coz: there is as 'twere a ten-
der, a kinde of tender, made a farre-off by Sir Hugb here:
doe you vnderſtand me?

Slen. I Sir, you ſhall finde me reaſonable; if it be so,
I ſhall doe that that is reaſon.

Shal. Nay, but vnderſtand me.

Slen. So I doe Sir.

Enan. Gine eare to his motions ; (Mr. Slender) I will
defcription the matter to you, if you be capacity of it.

Slen. Nay, I will doe as my Cozen Shallow faies : I
pray you pardon me, he's a Iuſtice of Peace in his Coun-
trie, ſimple though I ſtand here.

Enan. But that is not the queſtion : the queſtion is
concerning your marriage.

Shal. I, there's the point Sir.

Eu. Marry is it: the very point of it, to Mi. An Page.

Slen. Why if it be so, I will marry her vpon any rea-
ſonable demands.

En. But can you affection the 'o-man, let vs command
to know that of your mouth, or of your lips: for diuers
Philosophers hold, that the lips is parcell of the mouth:
therfore precisely, ca you carry your good wil to ſay
maid?

Sh. Cofen Abraham Slender, can you loue her?

Slen. I hope fir, I will do as it ſhall become one that
would doe reaſon.

En. Nay, got's Lords, and his Ladies, you muſt ſpeake
poffitable, if you can carry-her your defires towards her.

Shal. That you muſt :

Will you, (vpon good dowry) marry her?

Slen. I will doe a greater thing then that, vpon your
requeſt (Cofen) in any reaſon.

Shal. Nay conceiue me, conceiue mee, (ſweet Coz):
what I doe is to pleafure you (Coz:) can you loue the
maid?

Slen. I will marry her (Sir) at your requeſt ; but if
there be no great loue in the beginning, yet Heauen
may decreafe it vpon better acquaintance, when wee
are married, and haue more occasion to know one ano-
ther : I hope vpon familiarity will grow more content:
but if you ſay mary-her, I will mary-her, that I am freely
diffolued, and diffolutely.

Eu. It

The Merry Wives of Windsor.

41

Eu. It is a fery diffection-anſwere; faue the fall is in
the'ord, diffolutely: the ort is (according to our mea-
ning) refolutely: his meaning is good.

Sb. I: I thinke my Cofen meant well.

Sl. I, or else I would I might be hang'd (la.)

Sb. Here comes faire Miftris Anne; would I were
yong for your fake, Miftris Anne.

An. The dinner is on the Table, my Father deſires
your worſhips company.

Sb. I will wait on him; (faire Miftris Anne.)

Eu. Od's plesſed-wil: I will not be abſſce at the grace.

An. Wil't please your worſhip to come in, Sir?

Sl. No, I thank you forfooth, hartely; I am very well.

Am. The dinner attends you, Sir.

Sl. I am not a-hungry, I thanke you, forfooth: goe,
Sirha, for all you are my man, goe wait vpon my Cofen
Shallow: a juſtice of peace ſometime may be beholding
to his friend, for a Man; I keepe but three Men, and a
Boy yet, till my Mother be dead: but what though, yet
I liue like a poore Gentleman borne.

An. I may not goe in without your worſhip: they
will not fit till you come.

Sl. I'faith, ile eate nothing: I thanke you as much as
though I did.

Am. I pray you Sir walke in.

Sl. I had rather walke here (I thanke you) I bruiz'd
my ſhin th'other day, with playing at Sword and Dag-
ger with a Maſter of Fence (three vencyes for a diſh of
ſtew'd Prunes) and by my troth, I cannot abide the ſmell
of hot meate ſince. Why doe your dogs barke so? be
there Barres i'th' Towne?

An. I thinke there are, Sir, I heard them talk'd of,

Sl. I loue the ſport well, but I ſhall as ſoon quarrell
at it, as any man in England: you are afraid if you fee'the
Beare loose, are you not?

An. I indeede Sir.

Sl. That's meate and drinke to me now: I haue ſene
Sacker ſon loose, twenty times, and haue taken him by the
Chaine: but (I warrant you) the women haue ſo cride
and shrekt at it, that it paſt: But women indeede, cannot
abide'em, they are very ill-fauour'd rough things.

Ma. Pa. Come, gentle M. *Slender*, come; we flay for you.

Sl. Ile eate nothing. I thanke you Sir.

Ma. Pa. By cocke and pie, you ſhall not choose, Sir:
*come, come.*

Sl. Nay, pray you lead the way.

Ma. Pa. Come on, Sir.

Sl. Miftris Anne: your ſelfe ſhall goe firſt.

An. Not I, Sir, pray you keepe on.

Sl. Truely I will not goe firſt: truely-la: I will not
doe you that wrong.

An. I pray you, Sir.

Sl. Ile rather be vnmannely, then troubleſome: you
doe your ſelfe wrong indeede-la.

Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Evans, and Simple.

Eu. Go your waies, and aske of Doctor Causus house,
which is the way; and there dwels one Miftris *Quickly*;
which is in the manner of his Nurſe; or his dry-Nurſe; or
his Cooke; or his Laundry; his Watherv, and his Ringer.

Sl. Well, Sir.

Eu. Nay, it is petter yet: giue her this letter, for it is
a'oman that altogeathers acquaintáce with Miftris Anne
Page; and the Letter is to deſire, and require her to foli-
cite your Maſters deſires, to Miftris Anne Page: I pray
you be gon: I will make an end of my dinner; ther's Pip-
pins and Cheeſe to come.

Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Falſaffe, Hoſt, Bardolſe, Nym, Pifſoll, Page.

Fal. Mine Hoſt of the Garter?

Ho. What faies my Bully Rooke ? ſpeake ſchollerly,
and wifely.

Fal. Truely mine Hoſt; I muſt turne away ſome of my
followers.

Ho. Difcard, (bully *Hercules*) caſheere; let them wag;
trot, trot.

Fal. I fit at ten pounds a weeke.

Ho. Thou'rt an Emperor (*Cesar*, Keiser and Pheazar)
I will entertaine Bardolſe: he ſhall draw; he ſhall tap; and
I well (bully Heſtor)?

Fa. Doe ſo (good mine Hoſt).

Ho. I haue ſpoke; let him follow: let me fee thee froth,
and hue: I am at a word: follow.

Fal. Bardolſe, follow him: a Tapfter is a good trade:
an old Cloake, makes a new Ierkin: a wither'd Seruing-
man, a freſh Tapfter: goe, adew.

Ta. It is a life that I haue deſir'd: I will thrive.

Pifſt. O baſſe hungarian wight: wilt the ſpigot wield.

Ni. He was gotten in drink: is not the humor coceited?

Fal. I am glad I am ſo acquit of this Tinderbox: his
Thefts were too open: his filching was like an vnſkilſul
Singer, he kept not time.

Ni. The good humor is to ſteale at a minutes reſt.

Pifſt. Conuy: the wife it call: Steale? ſoh: a fico for
the phraſe.

Fal. Well firſ, I am almoſt out at heeles.

Pifſt. Why then let Kibes enſue.

Fal. There is no remedy: I muſt conicatch, I muſt shift.

Pifſt. Yong Rauens muſt haue foode.

Fal. Which of you knowe Ford of this Towne?

Pifſt. I ken the wight: he is of ſubſtance good.

Fal. My honeſt Lads, I will tell you what I am about.

Pifſt. Two yards, and more.

Fal. No quips now Pifſoll: (Indee I am in the waſte
two yards about: but I am now about no waſte: I am a-
about thrift) briefly: I doe meane to make loue to Ford's
wife: I spie entertainment in her: ſhee diſcourses: ſhee
carues: he giues the leere of inuitation: I can conſtrue
the action of her familier ſile, & the hardeſt voice of her
behauior (to be engliſh'd rightely) is, I am Sir John Falſaſs.

Pifſt. He hath ſtudied her will; and tranſlated her will:
out of honetſty, into English.

Ni. The Anchor is deepe: will that humor paffe?

Fal. Now, thereport goes, he has all the rule of her
husbands Purſe: he hath a legend of Angels.

Pifſt. As many diuels entertaine: and to her Boy ſay I.

Ni. The humor rifeſ: it is good; humor me the angels.

Fal. I haue writ me here a letter to her: & here anot-
her to Pages wife, who euen now gaue mee good eyes
too; examind my parts with moſt iudicious illiads; ſome-
times the beame of her view, gilded my ſoote: ſome-
times my portly belly.

D 3

Pifſ.

The Merry Wives of Windsor.

42

Pist. Then did the Sun on dung-hill shine.

Ni. I thank thee for that humour.

Fal. Of the did so courfe o're my exteriors with such a greedy intention, that the appetite of her eye, did seeme to fetch me vp like a burning-glasse: here's another letter to her: She beares the Purse too: She is a Region in Guiana: all gold, and bountie: I will be Cheaters to them both, and they shall be Exchequers to mee: they shall be my East and West Indies, and I will trade to them both: Goe, beare thou this Letter to Miftris Page; and thou this to Miftris Ford: we will thrive (Lads) we will thrive.

Pist. Shall I Sir Pandamus of Troy become,
And by my fide weare Steele? then Lucifer take all.

Ni. I will run no bafe humor: here take the humor-
Letter; I will keepe the hauor of reputation.

Fal. Hold Sirha, beare you thefe Letters tightly,
Saile like my Pinnaffe to thefe golden flories.
Rogues, hence, auant, vanifh like haile-ffones; goe,
Trudge; plod away ith' hoofe: feeke ſhelter, packe:
Falſtaffe will leane the honor of the age,
French-thrift, you Rogues, my ſelfe, and skirted Page.

Pist. Let Vultures gripe thy guts: for gourd, and
Fullam holds: & high and low beguiles the rich & poore,
Teſter ile haue in pouch when thou ſhalt lacke,
Bafe Phrygian Turke.

Ni. I haue opperations,

Which be humors of reuenge.

Pist. Wilt thou reuence?

Ni. By Welkin, and her Star.

Pist. With wit, or Steele?

Ni. With both the humors, I:

I will diſtuffe the humour of this Loue to Ford.

Pist. And I to Page shall eke vnfold
How Falſtaffe (varlet vite)
His Doue will proue; his gold will hold,

And his ſoft couch defile.

Ni. My humour ſhall not coole: I will incenſe Ford
to dealle with poyſon: I will poffeſſe him with yallow-
neſſe, for the reuolt of mine is dangerous: that is my
true humour.

Pist. Thou art the Mars of Malecontents: I ſecond
thee: troop on.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Miftris Quickly, Simple, Iohn Rugby, Doctor,
Caiaſa, Featon.

Qu. What, Iohn Rugby, I pray thee goe to the Cafe-
ment, and fee if you can fee my Maſter, Maſter Docter
Caiaſa comming: if he doe (I'faith) and finde any body
in the houſe; here will be an old abufing of God's pati-
ence, and the Kings English.

Ru. Ile goe watch.

Qu. Goe, and we'll haue a poffet for't ſoone at night,
(in faith) at the latter end of a Sea-cole-fire: An honeſt,
willing, kinde fellow, as euer ſeruant ſhall come in houſe
withall: and I warrant you, no tel-tale, nor no breedes-
bate: his worſt fault is, that he is giuen to prayer; hee is
fomething peeuilſh that way: but no body but has his
fault: but let that paffe. Peter Simple, you ſay your
name is?

Si. I: for fault of a better.

Qu. And Maſter Slender's your Maſter?

Si. Iſtooth.

Qu. Do's he not weare a great ſound Beard, like a
Glouers pairing-knife?

Si. No fortooth: he hath but a little wee-face; with
a little yellow Beard: a Caine colourd Beard.

Qu. A softly-(prighted man, is he not?

Si. I fortooth: but he is as tall a man of his hands, as
any is betweene this and his head: he hath ſought with
a Warrener.

Qu. How ſay you: oh, I ſhould remember him: do's
he not hold vp his head (as it were?) and ſtrut in his gate?

Si. Yes indeede do's he.

Qu. Well, heauen ſend Anne Page, no worſe fortune:
Tell Maſter Parfon Euans, I will doe what I can for your
Maſter: Anne is a good girle, and I wifh—

Ru. Out alas: here comes my Maſter.

Qu. We ſhall all be ſhent: Run in here, good young
man: goe into this Cloſſet: he will not ſtay long: what
Iohn Rugby? Iohn: what Iohn I ſay? goe Iohn, goe en-
quire for my Maſter, I doubt he be not well, that hee
comes not home: (and downe, downe, adowne a. &c.)

Ca. Vat is you ſing? I doe not like des-toyes: pray
you goe and vetch me in my Cloſſet, vnboyteene verd;
a Box, a greene-a-Box: do intend vat I ſpeake? a greene-
a-Box.

Qu. I fortooth ile fetch it you:
I am glad hee went not in himſelfe: if he had found the
yong man he would haue bin horne-mad.

Ca. Fe, ſe, ſe, maſer ſay, il ſait for ehando, Ie man voil a le
Court lagrand affaires.

Qu. Is it this Sir?

Ca. Ouy mette le au mon pocket, de peech quickly:

Vere is dat knaue Rugby?

Qu. What Iohn Rugby, Iohn?

Ru. Here Sir.

Ca. You are Iohn Rugby, aad you are lacke Rugby:
Come, take-a-your Rapier, and come after my heele to
the Court.

Ru. Tis ready Sir, here in the Porch.

Ca. By my trot: I tarry too long: od's-me: que ay it
oublie: dere is ſome Simples in my Cloſſet, dat I will not
for the vard I ſhall leaue behinde.

Qu. Ay-me, he'll finde the yong man there, & be mad.

Ca. O Diable, Diable: vat is in my Cloſſet?

Villanie, La-roone: Rugby, my Rapier.

Qu. Good Maſter be content.

Ca. Wherefore ſhall I be content—a?

Qu. The yong man is an honeſt man.

Ca. What ſhall de honeſt man do in my Cloſſet: dere
is no honeſt man dat ſhall come in my Cloſſet.

Qu. I beſeech you be not ſo flegmaticke: heare the
truth of it. He came of arrerrand to mee, from Parfon
Hugh.

Ca. Vell.

Si. I fortooth: to defire her to—

Qu. Peace, I pray you.

Ca. Peace-a-your tongue: ſpeake-a-your Tale.

Si. To define this honeſt Gentlewoman (your Maid)
to ſpeake a good word to Miftris Anne Page, for my Ma-
ſter in the way of Marriage.

Qu. This is all indeede-la: but ile nere put my finger
in the fire, and neede not.

Ca. Sir Hugh ſend-a you? Rugby, ballow mee ſome
paper: tarry you a littell-a-while.

Qu. I

The Merry Wives of Windsor.

43

Qui. I am glad he is so quiet: if he had bin through-
ly moued, you should haue heard him so loud, and so me-
lancholly: but notwithstanding man, Ile doe yoe your
Master what good I can: and the very yea, & the no words
of French Doctor my Mafter, (I may call him my Mafter,
looke you, for I keepe his houfe; and I wash, ring, brew,
bake, fowre, drefle meat and drinke, make the beds, and
doe all my felfe.)

Simp. Tis a great charge to come vnder one bodies
hand.

Qui. Are you a-uis'd o' that? you shall finde it a great
charge: and to be vp early, and down late: but notwith-
standing, (to tell you in your eare, I wold haue no words
of it) my Mafter himfelfe is in loue with Miftris Anne
Page: but notwithstanding that I know An's mind, that's
neither heere nor there.

Cains. You, lack'Nape: giue-'a this Letter to Sir
Hugh, by gar it is a challenge: I will cut his troat in de
Parke, and I will teach a curry lack-a-nape Priefft to
meddle, or make: — you may be gon: 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 dogge.

Qui. Alas: he speaks but for his friend.

Cains. It is no matter: a ver dat: do not you tell a me-
dat I shall haue Anne Page for my ſelfe ? by gar, I will
kill de Jack-Priefft: and I have appointed mine Hoft of
de Iarteer to measure our weapon: by gar, I wil my ſelfe
haue Anne Page.

Qui. Sir, the maid loues you, and all shall bee well:
We must giue folkes leaue to teare: what the good-ier.

Cains. Rugby, come to the Court with me: by gar, if
I have not Anne Page, I shall turne your head, out of my
dore: follow my heeles, Rugby.

Qui. You shall haue An'-fooles head of your owne:
No, I know An's mind for that: neuer a woman in Wind-
for knowes more of An's minde then I doe, nor can doe
more then I doe with her, I thanke heauen.

Fenton. Who's with in there, hoa?

Qui. Who's there, I troa ? Come neere the houfe I
pray you.

Fen. How now (good woman) how doſt thou ?

Qui. The better that it pleases your good Worſhip
to aske?

Fen. What newes? how do's pretty Miftris Anne?

Qui. In truth Sir, and ſhee is pretty, and honest, and
gentle, and one that is your friend, I can tell you that by
the way, I praisè heauen for it.

Fen. Shall I doe any good thinkt thou ? shall I not
looke my ſuit?

Qui. Troth Sir, all is in his hands aboue: but not-
withstanding (Mafter Fenton) Ile be ſworne on a booke
ſhee loues you : haue not your Worſhip a wart aboue
your eye?

Fen. Yes marry haue I, what of that?

Qui. Wel, thereby hangs a tale: good faith, it is ſuch
another Naw, 5 (but I dereſt) an honest maid as euer
broke bread: wee had an howres talke of that wart : I
ſhall neuer laugh but in that maids company : but (in-
deed) ſhee is giuen too much to Allicholy and mufing:
but for you — well — goe too —

Fen. Well: I shall fee her to day: hold, there's mo-
ney for thee: Let meee haue thy voice in my behalfe: if
thou feeſt lies before me, commend me.

Qui. Will I? I faith that wee will : And I will tell
your Worſhip more of the Wart, the next time we haue
confidence, and of other wooers.

Fen. Well, fare-well, I am in great haſte now.

Qui. Fare-well to your Worſhip: truely an honest
Gentleman: but Anne loues him not: for I know An's
minde as well as another do's: out vpon: what haue I
forgot.
Exit.

Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima.

Enter Miftris Page, Miftris Ford, Maſter Page, Maſter Ford, Piftoll, Nim, Quickly, Hoft, Shallow.

Mift. Page. What, haue ſcap'd Loue-letters in the
holly day-time of my beauty, and am I now a ſubiect
for them ? let me fee ?

Aske me no reason why I lont you, for though Loue use Rea-
fon for his precifian, bee admits him not for bis Counſailour :
you are not yong, no more am I: goe to then, there's ſimpathie :
you are merry, so am I: ha, ha, then there's more ſimpathie :
you loue ſacke, and so do I: would you defre better ſimpathie?
Let it ſuſſice thee (Miftris Page) at the leaſt if the Lone of
Souldier can ſuſſice, that I loue thee: I will not ſay pitty mee,
tis not a ſouldier-like phraſe; but I ſay, loue me :

By me, thine owne true Knight, by day or night :

Or any kind of light, with all his might,

For thee to fight.

John Faltſaffe.

What a Herod of Iarie is this? O wick'd, wick'd world:
One that is well-nye worne to peeces with age
To show himſelfe a yong Gallant? What an vnwaived
Behauiriath hath this FLEMiſh drunkard pickt (with
The Deuill's name) out of my converſation, that he dares
In this manner affay me? why, hee hath not beene thrice
In my Company: what should I ſay to him? I was then
Frugall of my mirth: (heauen forgive mee:) why Ile
Exhibit a Bill in the Parliament for the putting downe
of men: how ſhall I be reueng'd on him ? for reueng'd I
will be ? as ſure as his guts are made of puddings.

Miftris Page, Miftris Page, truſt me, I was going to your
houſe.

Miftris Page. And truſt me, I was comming to you: you
looke very ill.

Miftris Ford. Nay, Ile nere beleeece that; I haue to ſhow
to the contrary.

Miftris Page. 'Faith but you doe in my minde.

Miftris Ford. Well: I doe then: yet I ſay, I could ſhow
you to the contrary: O Miftris Page, giue mee ſome
counſaile.

Miftris Page. What's the matter, woman?

Miftris Ford. O woman: if it were not for one trifling re-
fpect, I could come to ſuch honour.

Miftris Page. Hang the trifle (woman) take the honour:
what is it? diſpence with trifles: what is it?

Miftris Ford. If I would but goe to hell, for an eternal
moment, or so: I could be knighted.

Miftris Page. What thou lieſt: Sir Alice Ford ? these
Knights will hacke, and so thou shouldſt not alter the ar-
ticle of thy Gentry.

Miftris Ford. Wee burne day-light: heere, read, read:
perceiue how I might bee knighted, I ſhall thinke the
worſe of fat men, as long as I haue an eye to make diſfe-
rence of mens liking : and yet hee would not ſwere:
praise

The Merry Wives of Windsor.

44

praise womens modesty: and gaue such orderly and wel-
behaued reproofe to al vncomelineffe, that I would haue
sworne his difposition would haue gone to the truth of
his words: but they doe no more adhere and keep place
together, then the hundred Psalms to the tune of Green-
fleeues: What tempett (I troa) threw this Whale, (with
so many Tuns of oyle in his belly) a'fhoare at Windsor?
How shall I bee reuenged on him? I thinke the beft way
were, to entertaine him with hope, till the wicked fire
of luft haue melted him in his owne greace: Did you e-
uer heare the like?

*Mif. Page.* Letter for letter; but that the name of
*Page* and *Ford* differs : to thy great comfort in this my-
tery of ill opinions, heere's the twyn-brother of thy Let-
ter : but let thine inherit firſt, for I protest mine neuer
ſhall : I warrant he hath a thousand of theſe Letters, writ
with blanke-space for different names (ſure more): and
theſe are of the ſecond edition: hee will print them out
of doubt: for he cares not what hee puts into the preſſe,
when he would put vs two: I had rather be a Giantefſe,
and lye vnder Mount Pelion: Well; I will find you twen-
tie laſciuious Turtles ere one chaſte man.

*Mif. Ford.* Why this is the very fame : the very hand:
the very words : what doth he thinke of vs ?

*Mif. Page.* Nay I know not: it makes me almost rea-
die to wrangle with mine owne honeſty : Ile entertaine
my ſelfe like one that I am not acquainted withall : for
ſure vnleſſe hee know ſome ſtraine in mee, that I know
not my ſelfe, hee would neuer haue boorded me in this
ſurie.

*Mi. Ford.* Boording, call you it ? I bee ſure to keepe
him aboue decke.

*Mi. Page.* So will I: if hee come vnder my hatches,
Ile neuer to Sea againe : Let's bee reueng'd on him : let's
appoint him a meeting : giue him a ſhow of comfort in
his Suit, and lead him on with a fine baited delay, till hee
hath pawn'd his horses to mine Hoſt of the Garter.

*Mi. Ford.* Nay, I wil consent to act any villany againſt
him, that may not fully the charineſſe of our honeſty: oh
that my husband ſaw this Letter : it would giue eternal
food to his ialeouſe.

*Mif. Page.* Why look where he comes; and my good man too: hee's as farre from ialeouſe, as I am from giuing him cauſe, and that (I hope) is an vnmeaſurable diſtance.

*Mif. Ford.* You are the happier woman.

*Mif. Page.* Let's confult together againſt this greaſe
Knight: Come hither.

*Ford.* Well: I hope, it be not so.

*Pisſ.* Hope is a curtall-dog in ſome affaires :

*Sir John* affects thy wife.

*Ford.* Why fir, my wife is not young.

*Pisſ.* He wooes both high and low, both rich & poor,
both yong and old, one with another (*Ford*) he loues the
Gally-mawfry (*Ford*) perpend.

*Ford.* Loue my wife?

*Pisſ.* With liuer, burning hot : preuent :

Or goe thou like Sir *Acleon* he, with

*Ring-wood at thy heeles : O, odious is the name.*

*Ford.* What name Sir?

*Pisſ.* The horne I ſay: Farewell :

Take heed, haue open eye, for theeues doe foot by night.
Take heed, ere sommer comes, or Cuckoo-birds do ſing.

*Away fir Corp orall Nim :*

Beleue it (*Page*) he ſpeakes ſence.

*Ford.* I will be patient : I will find out this.

*Nim.* And this is true: I like not the humor of lying:
hee hath wronged mee in ſome humors: I should haue
borne the humour'd Letter to her: but I haue a ſword:
and it shall bite upon my neceſſitie: he loues your wife;
There's the ſhort and the long: My name is Corporall
*Nim:* I speak, and I auouch; 'tis true: my name is *Nim*:
and *Falſaffe* loues your wife: adieu, I loue not the hu-
mour of bread and cheeſe: adieu.

*Page.* The humour of it (quoth a?) heere's a fellow
frights English out of his wits.

*Ford.* I will ſeeke out *Falſaffe*.

*Page.* I neuer heard ſuch a drawling- affecting rogue.

*Ford.* If I doe finde it: well.

*Page.* I will not beleuee ſuch a Cataſiam, though the
Priest o' th' Towne commended him for a true man.

*Ford.* 'Twas a good ſenſible fellow: well.

*Page.* How now *Meg*?

*Mif. Page.* Whether goe you (*George*?) harke you.

*Mif. Ford.* How now (*weet Frank*) why art thou me-
lanchely?

*Ford.* I melancholy ? I am not melancholy :

Get you home: goe.

*Mif. Ford.* Faith, thou haſt ſome crochets in thy head,
Now: will you goe, *Miftris Page*?

*Mif. Page.* Haue with you : you'll come to dinner
*George* ? Looke who comes yonder: *fhee* shall bee our
Mellenger to this paltrie Knight.

*Mif. Ford.* Truſt me, I thought on her: *fhee*'ll fit it.

*Mif. Page.* You are come to ſee my daughter *Anne*?

*Quj.* Iſorſooth: and I pray how do's good *Miftresse*
*Anne*?

*Mif. Page.* Go in with vs and ſee: we haue an hours
talke with you.

*Page.* How now *Mafter Ford*?

*For.* You heard what this knaue told me, did you not?

*Page.* Yes, and you heard what the other told me?

*Ford.* Doe you thinke there is truth in them?

*Pag.* Hang 'em ſlaues: I doe not thinke the Knight
would offer it: But theſe that accuſe him in his intent
towards our wives, are a yoake of his diſcarded men: ve-
ry rogues, now they be out of ſeruice.

*Ford.* Were they his men?

*Page.* Marry were they.

*Ford.* I like it neuer the better for that,

Do's he lye at the Garter?

*Page.* I marry do's he: if hee should intend this voy-
age toward my wife, I would turne her loose to him;
and what hee gets more of her, then ſharpe words, let it
lye on my head.

*Ford.* I doe not miſdoubt my wife : but I would bee
loath to turne them together : a man may be too confi-
dent: I would haue nothing lye on my head : I cannot
be thus ſatisfied.

*Page.* Looke where my ranting-Hoſt of the Garter
comes: there is eyther liquor in his pate, or mony in
his purſe, when hee lookes ſo merrily : How now mine
Hoſt?

*Hoſt.* How now Bully-Rooke: thou'rt a Gentleman
Caueleiro Iuſtice, I ſay.

*Shal.* I follow, (mine Hoſt) I follow: Good-euen,
and twenty (good Maſter *Page*.) Maſter *Page*, wil you go
with vs? we haue ſport in hand.

*Hoſt.* Tell him Caueleiro-Iuſtice : tell him Bully-
Rooke.

*Shall.* Sir, there is a ſray to be ſought, betweene Sir
*Hugh* the Welch Priſt, and *Caime* the French Doctor.

*Ford.* Good

The Merry Wines of Windsor.

45

Ford. Good mine Hoſt o'th'Garter: a word with you.

Hoſt. What faſt thou, my Bully-Rooke?

Shal. Will you goe with vs to behold it? My merry Hoſt hath had the meaſuring of their weapons; and (I thinke) hath appointed them contrary places : for (be-leeue mee) I heare the Parſon is no letter: harke, I will tell you what our ſport ſhall be.

Hoſt. Haeſt thou no ſuit againſt my Knight?my gueſt-Cauleaire?

Shal. None, I proteſt: but Ile giue you a pottle of burn'd ſacke, to giue me recourse to him, and tell him my name is Broome: onely for a left.

Hoſt. My hand, (Bully:) thou hſalt haue egreſſe and regreſſe, (said I well?) and thy name ſhall be Broome. It is a merry Knight: will you goe An-heires?

Shal. Hauе with you mine Hoſt.

Page. I haue heard the French-man hath good skill in his Rapier.

Shal. Tut ſir: I could haue told you more: In these times you ſtand on diſtance: your Paffes, Stoccado's, and I know not what: 'tis the heart (After Page)'tis heere; 'tis heere: I haue ſene the time with my long-sword, I would haue made you ſowre tall fellowes skipp like Rattes.

Hoſt. Heere boyes, heere, heere: shall we wag?

Page. Hauе with you : I had rather heare them ſoold, then fight.

Ford. Though Page be a ſecure ſoole, and ſtands ſo firmly on his wines 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 looke further into't, and I haue a diſguife, to found Faſſaſſe; if I finde her honest, I looſe not my labor: if ſhe be other-wife, 'tis labour well beſtowed.

Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Falſaſſe, Piftoll, Robin, Quickly, Bardolſſe, Ford.

Fal. I will not lend thee a penny.

Pift. Why then the world's mine Oyſter, which I, with ſword will open.

Fal. Not a penny: I haue beene content (Sir,) you (should lay my countenance to pawne: I haue grated vpon my good friends for three Repreeues for you, and your Coach-fellow Nim; or else you had look'd through the grate, like a Geminy of Baboons: I am dam'd in hell, for ſwearing to Gentlemen my friends, you were good Souldiers, and tall-fellowes. And when Miftreſſe Briget loft the handle of her Fan, I took't vpon mine honour thou hadſt it not.

Pift. Didst not thou share ? hadſt thou not ſiſteene pence?

Fal. Reaſon, you roague, reaſon: thinkſt thou Ile endanger my ſoule, gratiſs at a word, hang no more about mee, I am no gibbet for you: goe, a ſhort knife, and a throng, to your Manner of Picket-hatch: goe, you'll not beare a Letter for mee you roague? you ſtand vpon your honor: why, (thou vnconſinable baſeneſſe) it is as much as I can doe to keepe the termes of my hononor precife: I, I, I my ſelfe sometimes, leauing the ſeare of heauen on

the left hand, and hiding mine honor in my neceſſity, am faine to ſhuffle : to hedge, and to lurch, and yet, you Rogue, will enſonce your raggs; your Cat-a-Mountaine-looking, your red-lattice phraſes, and your bold-beating-oathes, vnder the ſhelter of your honor & you will not doe it? you ?

Pift. I doe relent: what would thou more of man?

Robin. Sir, here's a woman would ſpeake with you.

Fal. Let her approach.

Qui. Giue your worſhip good morrow.

Fal. Good-morrow, good-wife.

Qui. Not so, and't please your worſhip.

Fal. Good maid then.

Qui. Ile be ſworne,

As my mother was the firſt houre I was borne.

Fal. I doe beleue the ſweare; what with me?

Qui. Shall I vouchſaſe your worſhip a word, or two?

Fal. Two thouſand (faire woman) and ile vouchſaſe thee the hearing.

Qui. There is one Miftreſſe Ford, (Sir) I pray come a little neerer this waies: I my ſelfe dwell with M.Doctor Caus:

Fal. Well, on; Miftreſſe Ford, you ſay.

Qui. Your worſhip ſaies very true: I pray your worſhip come a little neerer this waies.

Fal. I warrant thee, no-bodie heares: mine owne people, mine owne people.

Qui. Are they ſo ? heauen-bleſſe them, and make them his Seruants.

Fal. Well; Miftreſſe Ford, what of her?

Qui. Why, Sir; ſhe's a good- creature; Lord, Lord, your Worſhip's a wanton : well: heauen forgiue you, and all of vs, I pray—

Fal. Miftreſſe Ford: come, Miftreſſe Ford.

Qui. Marry this is the ſhort, and the long of it: you haue brought her into ſuch a Canaries, as 'tis wonderfull: the beſt Courtier of them all (when the Court lay at Windsor) could neuer haue brought her to ſuch a Canarie: yet there has beene Knights, and Lords, and Gentlemen, with their Coaches; I warrant you Coach after Coach, letter after letter, gifter after gifter, ſmelling ſo ſweetly; all Muske, and ſo rufſhling, I warrant you, in filke and golde, and in iuch alligant terms, andin ſuch wine and ſuger of the beſt, and the faireſt, that would haue wonne any womans heart: and I warrant you, they could neuer get an eye-winke of her: I had my ſelfe twentie Angels giuen me this morning, but I defie all Angels (in any ſuch ſort, as they ſay) but in the way of honeſty: and I warrant you, they could neuer get her ſo much as ſippe on a cup with the prowdeſt of them all, and yet there has beene Earles: nay, (which is more) Pentioners, but I warrant you all is one with her.

Fal. But what ſaies ſhee to mee? be briefe my good ſhee-Mercurie.

Qui. Marry, ſhe hath recei'd your Letter : for the which ſhe thanks you a thouſand times; and ſhe giues you to notiſe, that her husband will be abſence from his house, betweene ten and eleuen.

Fal. Ten, and eleuen.

Qui. I, forfooth: and then you may come and fee the picture (ſhe ſayes) that you wot of: Maſter Ford her hufband will be from home: alas, the ſweet woman leades an ill life with him: hee's a very ialeouſe-man; ſhe leads a very frampold life with him, (good hart.)

Fal. Ten, and eleuen.

Woman

The Merry Wines of Windsor.

Woman, commend me to her, I will not faile her.

Qui. Why, you say well: But I haue another meffender to your worshyp: Miftrefle Page hath her heartie commendations to you to: and let mee tell you in your care, shee's as fartuous a cuill modest wife, and one (I tell you) that will not misfe you morning nor euening prayer, as any is in Windfor, who ere bee the other: and shee bade me tell your worshyp, that her husband is fel- dome from home, but she hopes there will come a time. I neuer knew a woman so doate vpon a man; surely I thinke you haue charmes, la: yes in truth.

Fal. Not I, I affure thee; letting the attraction of my good parts afide, I haue no other charmes.

Qui. Bleſſing on your heart for't.

Fal. But I pray thee tell me this: has Fords wife, and Pages wife acquainted each other, how they loue me?

Qui. That were a ieſt indeed: they haue not ſo little grace I hope, that were a tricke indeed: But Miftris Page would deſire you to ſend her your little Page of all loues: her husband has a maruellous inſefiſió to the little Page: and truly Maſter Page is an honest man: neuer a wife in Windfor leades a better life then ſhe do's: doe what ſhe will, ſay what ſhe will, take all, pay all, goe to bed when ſhe lift, rife when ſhe lift, all is as ſhe will: and truly ſhe deferues it; for if there be a kinde woman in Windfor, ſhe is one: you muſt ſend her your Page, no remedie.

Fal. Why, I will.

Qu. Nay, but doe I then, and looke you, hee may come and goe betweene you both: and in any case haue a nay-word, that you may know one anothers minde, and the Boy neuer neede to vnderstand any thing; for 'tis not good that children should know any wickednes: olde folkes: you know, haue discretion, as they ſay, and know the world.

Fal. Faretheewell, commend mee to them both: there's my purſe, I am yet thy debter: Boy, goe along with this woman, this newes diſtracts me.

Pift. This Puncke is one of Cupids Carriers,
Clap on more failes, purſue: vp with your fights:
Give fire: ſhe is my prize, or Ocean whelme them all.

Fal. Saith thou so (old Jacke) go thy waes: Ile make more of thy olde body then I haue done: will they yet looke after thee? wilt thou after the expence of so much money, be now a gainer? Good Body, I thanke thee: let them ſay'tis groſſely done, so it bee fairely done, no matter.

Bar. 'Sir John, there's one Maſter Broome below would faine ſpeake with you, and be acquainted with you; and hath ſent your worshyp a mornings draught of Sacke.

Fal. Broome is his name?

Bar. I Sir.

Fal. Call him in: ſuch Broomes are welcome to mee, that ore'flowes ſuch liquor: ah ha, Miftrſe Ford and Miftrſe Page, haue I encompaſſ'd you? goe to, via.

Ford. Bledſe you fir.

Fal. And you fir: would you ſpeake with me?

Ford. I make bold, to preſſe, with ſo little preparation vpon you.

Fal. You'r welcome, what's your will? giue vs leaue
Drawer.

Ford. Sir, I am a Gentleman that haue ſpent much, my name is Broome.

Fal. Good Maſter Broome, I deſire more acquaintance of you.

Ford. Good Sir John, I ſue for yours: not to charge you, for I muſt let you vnderstand, I thinke my ſelſe in

better plight for a Lender, then you are: the which hath something emboldned me to this vnſeafon'd intruſion: for they ſay, if money goe before, all waies doelye open.

Fal. Money is a good Souldier (Sir) and will on.

Ford. Troth, and I haue a bag of money heere trou. bles me: if you will helpe to beare it (Sir John) take all, or halfe, for eafing me of the carriage.

Fal. Sir, I know not how I may deſerue to bee your Porter.

Ford. I will tell you fir, if you will giue mee the hea. ring.

Fal. Speake (good Maſter Broome) I shall be glad to be your Servant.

Ford. Sir, I heare you are a Scholler: (I will be briefe with you) and you haue been a man long knowne to me, though I had neuer ſo good means as deſire, to make my ſelſe acquainted with you. I ſhall diſcouer a thing to you, wherein I muſt very much lay open mine owne im- perſection: but (good Sir John) as you haue one eye vp- on my ſollies, as you heare them vnfolded, turne another into the Register of your owne, that I may paffe with a reproofe the eſtair, ſith you your ſelſe know how eſtair it is to be ſuch an offender.

Fal. Very well Sir, proceed.

Ford. There is a Gentlewoman in this Towne, her husbands name is Ford.
Fal. Well Sir.

Ford. I haue long lou'd her, and I proteſt to you, be- flowed much on her: followed her with a doating ob- ferenance: Ingrofs'd opportunities to meete her: ſee'd e- fery flight occasion that could but nigardly giue mee flight of her: not only bought many prents to giue her, but haue giuen largely to many, to know what ſheet would haue giuen: briefly, I haue purſu'd her, as Loue hath purſued mee, which hath beene on the wing of all occations: but what ſocuer I have merited, either in my minde, or in my meanes, meede I am ſure I haue received none, voleſſe Experience be a lewell, that I haue purcha- fed at an infinite rate, and that hath taught mee to lay this,

"Loue like a shadow flies, when Subſtance Loue pursues,

"Purſuing that that flies, and flying what purſues.

Fal. Haue you recciu'd no promife of satisfaction at her hands?

Fal. Neuer.

Fal. Haue you importun'd her to ſuch a purpofe?

Fal. Neuer.

Fal. Of what qualitie was your loue then?

Ford. Like a fair houſe, built on another mans ground, ſo that I haue loft my edifice, by miftaking the place, where I erected it.

Fal. To what purpofe haue you vnfolded this to me?

For. When I haue told you that, I haue told you all: Some ſay, that though ſhe appeare honest to mee, yet in other places ſhe enlargeth her mirth ſo farre, that there is ſhrewd conſtruction made of her. Now (Sir John) here is the heart of my purpofe: you are a gentleman of ex- cellent breeding, admirable diſcourse, of great admi- tance, authenticke in your place and person, generally allow'd for your many war-like, court-like, and learned preparations.

Fal. O Sir.

Ford. Beleeue it, for you know it: there is money, ſpend it, ſpend it, ſpend more; ſpend all I haue, only giue

The Merry Wines of Windsor.

47

giue me so much of your time in exchange of it, as to lay
an amiable fiedge to the heonyft of this *Fords* wife : vse
your Art of wooing ; win her to consent to you : if any
man may, you may as foone as any.

*Fal.* Would it apply well to the vehemency of your affection that I should win what you would enjoy? Me thinkes you preſcribe to your ſelfe very prepoſterouſly.

*Ford.* O, vnderstand my drift: ſhe dwells ſo securely on the excellency of her honor, that the folly of my foule dares not preſent it ſelfe: ſhee is too bright to be look'd againſt. Now, could I come to her with any detection in my hand; my deſires had inſtance and argument to commend them ſelues, I could drive her then from the ward of her purity, her reputation, her marriage-vow, and a thouſand other her defences, which now are too too strongly embattailed againſt me: what ſay you too't, Sir *John*?

*Fal.* After *Broome*, I will firſt make bold with your money : next, giue mee your hand : and laſt, as I am a gentleman, you ſhall, if you will, enjoy *Ford's* wife.

*Ford.* O good Sir.

*Fal.* I ſay you ſhall.

*Ford.* Want no money (Sir *Iohn*) you ſhall want none.

*Fal.* Want no *Difuſſe* Ford (After *Broome*) you ſhall want none: I ſhall be with her (I may tell you) by her owne appointment, euen as you came in to me, her affiſſant, or goe-betweene, parted from me: I ſay I ſhall be with her betweene ten and eleuen : for at that time the ieleious-raſcally-knaue her husband will be ſorth: come you to me at night, you ſhall know how I ſpeed.

*Ford.* I am bleſt in your acquaintance: do you know *Ford* Sit?

*Fal.* Hang him (poore Cuckoldly knaue) I know him not: yet I wrong him to call him poore : They ſay the ieleious wittolly-knaue hath maſſes of money, for the which his wife ſeemes to me well-fauourd: I will vſe her as the key of the Cuckoldly-rogues Coffer, & ther's my harueſt-home.

*Ford.* I would you knew *Ford*, fir, that you might auoid him, if you ſaw him.

*Fal.* Hang him, mechanically-falt-butter rogue: I will ſtare him out of his wits: I will awe-him with my cudgell: it ſhall hang like a Meteor ore the Cuckolds horns: After *Broome*, thou ſhalt know, I will predominate over the pezant, and thou ſhalt lye with his wife. Come to me ſoone at night: *Ford's* a knaue, and I will aggruate his ſile: thou (After *Broome*) ſhalt know him for knaue, and Cuckold. Come to me ſoone at night.

*Ford.* What a damn'd Epicurian-Raſcall is this? my heart is ready to cracke with impatience: who faies this is improuident ialouſe ? my wife hath ſent to him, the howre is fixt, the match is made: would any man haue thought this ? ſee the hell of hauing a ſalte woman : my bed ſhall be abus'd, my Coffers ranſack'd, my reputatioungnaue at, and I ſhall not onely receiue this villanous wrong, but ſland vnder the adoption of abominable terms, and by him that does mee this wrong: Terms, names: *Amaimon* founds well: *Lucifer*, well: *Barbaron*, well: yet they are Diuels additions, the names of fiends: But Cuckold, Wittoll, Cuckold ? the Diuell himselfe hath not ſuch a name. Page is an Aſſe, a ſecure Aſſe; hee will truſt his wife, hee will not be ialeous: I will rather truſt a *Fleming* with my butter, Parſon *Hugh* the *Welſhman* with my Cheeſe, an *Irſh-man* with my Aqua-vitæ-bottle, or a Theeſe to walke my ambling gelding, then my wife with her ſelſe. Then the plots, then ſhee rumi-

uates, then ſhee deuifies: and what they thinke in their hearts they may effect; they will breake their hearts but they will effect. Heauen bee prais'd for my ialouſe: eleuen o'clocke the howre, I will preuent this, deteſt my wife, bee reueng'd on *Falfaffe*, and laugh at Page. I will about it, better three houres too ſoon, then a mynute too late: ſie, ſie, ſie: Cuckold, Cuckold, Cuckold.

*Exti.*

## Scena Tertia.

*Enter Caius, Rugby, Page, Shallow, Slender, Hoſt.*

*Caius.* *Inacke Rugby.*

*Rug.* Sir.

*Caius.* Vat is the clocke, *lack*.

*Rug.* 'Tis paſt-the howre (Sir) that Sir *Hugh* promis'd to meet.

*Cai.* By gar, he has faue his ſoule, dat he is no-come: hee has pray his Pible well, dat he is no-come: by gar (*lack Rugby*) he is dead already, if he be come.

*Rug.* Hee is wife Sir: hee knew your worſhip would kill him if he came.

*Cai.* By gar, de herring is no dead, fo as I will kill him: take your Rapier, (*lacke*) I will tell you how I will kill him.

*Rug.* Alas fir, I cannot fence.

*Cai.* Villanie, take your Rapier.

*Rug.* Forbeare: heer's company.

*Hoſt.* 'Bleſſe thee, *bully-Doctor*.

*Shal.* 'Saue you Mr. *Doctor Caius*.

*Page.* Now good Mr. *Doctor*.

*Shen.* 'Gie you good-morrow, fir.

*Caius.* Vat be all you one, two, tree, ſowre, come for?

*Hoſt.* To fee thee fight, to fee thee foigne, to fee thee trauerſe, to fee thee here, to fee thee there, to fee thee paffe thy punčto, thy ſlock, thy reuerſe, thy diſtance, thy montant: Is he dead, my Ethiopian ? Is he dead, my Franciſco ? ha *Bully*? what faies my *Eſculapius* ? my *Galien* ? my heart of Elder ? ha ? is he dead *bully-Stale* ? is he dead?

*Cai.* By gar, he is de Coward-lack-Prieſt of de world: he is not ſhow his face.

*Hoſt.* Thou art a Caſtalion-king-Vrinall: *Heſtor* of Greece (my Boy)

*Cai.* I pray you beare witneſſe, that me haue ſtay, fixe or ſeuen, two tree howres for him, and hee is no-come.

*Shal.* He is the wiser man (M. *Docto*) the is a curer of ſoules, and you a curer of bodies: if you ſhould fight, you goe againſt the haire of your proſeffions: is it not true, After *Page*?

*Page.* After *Shallow*; you haue your ſelſe beene a great fighter, though now a man of peace.

*Shal.* Body-kins M. *Page*, though I now be old, and of the peace; if I fee a ſword out, my finger itches to make one: though wee are Iſtices, and Doctors, and Church-men (M. *Page*) wee haue ſome ſalt of our youth in vs, we are the ſons of women (M. *Page*.)

*Page.* 'Tis true, Mr. *Shallow*.

*Shal.* It will be found so, (M. *Page*) M. *Doctor Caius*, I am come to fetch you home: I am ſworn of the peace: you haue ſhow'd your ſelſe a wife Phyſician, and Sir *Hugh* hath ſhowne himſelfe a wife and patient Churchman: you muſt goe with me, M. *Doctor*.

*Hoſt.* Par.

48

The Merry Wines of Windsor.

Hoff. Pardon, Gueſt-Iuſtice; a Mounſeur Mocke-
water.

Cai. Mock-vater ? vat is dat?

Hoff. Mock-water, in our English tongue, is Valour
(Bully.)

Cai. By gar, then I haue as much Mock-vater as de
Englishman: curuy-Iack. dog. Prieft: by gar, mee will
cut his eares.

Hoff. He will Clapper-claw thee tightly (Bully.)

Cai. Clapper-de-claw ? vat is dat?

Hoff. That is, he will make thee amends.

Cai. By-gar, me doe looke hee ſhall clapper-de-claw
me, for by-gar, me will haue it.

Hoff. And I will prouoke him to't, or let him wag.

Cai. Me tanck you for dat.

Hoff. And moreover, (Bully) but firſt, Mr. Gueſt, and M. Page, & ecke Cauleciro Slender, goe you through the Towne to Frogmore.

Page. Sir Hugh is there, is he ?

Hoff. He is there, fee what humor he is in: and I will bring the Doctor about by the Fields: will it doe well?

Shal. We will do it.

All. Adieu, good M. Doctor.

Cai. By-gar, me vill kill de Prieft, for he speake for a
Iack-an-Ape to Anne Page.

Hoff. Let him die: fheath thy impatience: throw cold
water on thy Choller: goe about the fields with mee
through Frogmore, I will bring thee where Miftris Anne
Page is, at a Farm-house a Feasting: and thou ſhalt wooe
he r: Cride-game, faid I well?

Cai. By-gar, mee dancke you vor dat: by gar I loue
you: and I ſhall procure 'a you de good Gueſt de Earle,
de Knight, de Lords, de Gentlemen, my patients.

Hoff. For the which, I will be thy aduerſary toward
Anne Page: faid I well?

Cai. By-gar, 'tis good: vell faid.

Hoff. Let vs wag then.

Cai. Come at my hetles, Iack Rugby.

Exeunt.

Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima.

Enter Enans, Simple, Page, Shallow, Slender, Hoff, Cains,
Rugby.

Enans. I pray you now, good Maſter Slenders ſeruinger,
man, and friend Simple by your name; which way haue
you look'd for Maſter Cains, that calls himſelfe Docto
r of Phificke.

Sim. Marry Sir, the pittie-ward, the Parke-ward:
euery way : olde Windsor way, and euery way but the
Towne-way.

Enan. I moſt ſchemently deſire you, you will alſo
looke that way.

Sim. I will fir.

Enan. 'Pleſe my ſoule: how full of Chollors I am, and
trempling of minde: I ſhall be glad if he haue deuiciet
me: how melancholies I am ? I will knog his Vrinalles a
bout his knaues coſtard, when I haue good opportunities
for the orke: 'Pleſe my ſoule: To ſhallow Ruiers to whose
falls: melodious Birds ſings Madrigalls: There will we make
our Peds of Rofes: and a thousand fragrant posies. To ſhal-
low: 'Mercie on mee, I haue a great dispoſitions to cry,

Melodious birds ſing Madrigalls: — When as I fat in Pa-
bilon: and a thousand vagram Posies. To ſhallow, &c.

Sim. Yonder he is comming, this way, Sir Hugh.

Enan. Hec's welcome: To ſhallow Ruiers, to whose salt
Heauen proper the right: what weapons is he?

— Sim. No weapons, Sir: there comes my Maſter, Mr.
Shallow, and another Gentleman; from Frogmore, ouer
the ſtyle, this way.

— Enan. Pray you give mee my gowne, or else keepe it
in your armes.

Shal. How now Maſter Parſon ? good morrow good
Sir Hugh: keepe a Gameſter from the dice, and a good
Studient from his booke, and it is wonderfull.

Slen. Ah sweet, Anne Page.

Page. 'Save you, good Sir Hugh.

Enan. 'Pleſe you from his mercy-fake, all of you.

Shal. What ? the Sword, and the Word ?

Doe you ſtudy them both, Mr. Parſon?

Page. And youthfull full, in your doublet and hofe,
this raw-ruſmaticke day?

Enan. There is reaſons, and cauſes for it.

Page. We are come to you, to doe a good office, Mr.
Parſon.

Enan. Fery-well: what is it?

Page. Yonder is a moſt reverend Gentleman; who
(be-like) hauing receiued wrong by ſome perſon, is at
moſt odds with his owne gravity and patience, that euer
you ſaw.

Shal. I haue liued ſoure-score yeeres, and upward : I
neuer heard a man of his place, gravity, and learning, ſo
wide of his owne respect.

Enan. What is he ?

Page. I thinke you know him: Mr. Doctor Cains the
renowned French Phyſician.

Enan. Got's-will, and his paſſion of my heart: I had
as lief you would tell me of a meſſe of porridge.

Page. Why?

Enan. He has no more knowledge in Hibocrates and
Galen, and hee is a knaue beſides: a cowardly knaue, as
you would deſires to be acquaiuted withall.

Page. I warrant you, hee's the man ſhould fight with
him.

Slen. Of wzeet: Anne Page.

Shal. It appears so by his weapons: keepe them a-
funder: here comes Doctor Cains.

Page. Nay good Mr. Parſon, keepe in your weapon.

Shal. So doe you, good Mr. Doctor.

Hoff. Diſarme them, and let them queſtion: let them
keepe their limbs whole, and hack our English.

Cai. I pray you let a-mee ſpeake a word with your
eare; wherefore vill you not meet-a me ?

Enan. Pray you vſe your patience in good time.

Cai. By-gar, you are de Coward: de Iack dog: Iohn
Ape.

Enan. Pray you let vs not be laughing-ſtocks to other
mens humours: I deſire you in friendſhip, and I will one
way or other make you amends: I will knog your Vrinal
about your knaues Cogs-combe.

Cai. Diable: Iack Rugby: mine Hoff de Iavteer: have I
not ſay for him, to kill him? haue I not at de place I did
appoint?

Enan. At I am a Chriſtians-ſoule, now looke you:
this is the place appointed, Ile bee iudgement by mine
Hoff of the Gartter.

Hoff. Peace, I lay, Gallia and Gaule, French & Welch,
Soule-Curer, and Body-Curer.

Cai. I,

The Merry Wines of Windsor.

49

Cai. I, dat is very good, excellant.

Hoff. Peace, I say: heare mine Hoſt of the Garter,
Am I politike? Am I ſubtle? Am I a Machiwell?

Shall Hoofe my Doctor? No, hee giues me the Potions and the Motions. Shall I loosee my Parfon ? my Prieth? my Sir Hugh ? No, he giues me the Prouerbes, and the No-verbes. Giueme thy hand (Celeſtrall) fo: Boyes of Art, I haue deceiſd you both : I haue directed you to wrong places: your hearts are mighty, your skins are whole, and let burn'd Sacke be the ſiſle: Come, lay their {words to pawne: Follow me, Lad of peace, follow, follow, follow.

Shal. Truſt me, a mad Hoſt: follow Gentlemen, follow.

Slen. O weet Anne Page,

Cai. Ha'do I perceiue dat? Haue you make a dc-fot of vs, ha, ha?

Euæ. This is well, he has made vs his vlowting-flog: I deſire you that we may be friends: and let vs klog our praines together to be reuence on this fame ſcal ſcutuy-cogging-companion the Hoſt of the Garter.

Cai. By gar, with all my heart: he prouide to bring me where is Anne Page: by gar he deceiue me too.

Euan. Well, I will imite his noddles: pray you follow.

## Scena Secunda.

Mift. Page, Robin, Ford, Page, Shallow, Slender, Hoſt,
Euan, Cains.

Mift. Page. Nay keepe 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 maſters heeles?

Rob. I had rather (forfooth) go before you like a man,
then follow him like a dwarf.

(Courtier.)

M. Pa. O you are a flattering boy, now I fee you'l be a Ford. Well met Miftris Page, whether go you.

M. Pa. Truly Sir, to fee your wife, is she at home?

Ford. I, and as idle as she may hang together for want of company: I thinke if your husbands were dead, you two would marry.

M. Pa. Be sure of that, two other husbands.

Ford. Where had you this pretty weather-cocke?

M. Pa. I cannot tell what (the dickens) his name is my husband had him of, what do you call your Knights name

Rob. Sir John Falſaffe.

(firrah)

Ford. Sir John Falſaffe.

M. Pa. He, he, I can neuer hit on's name; there is such a league betweene my goodman, and he: is your Wife at Ford. Indeed she is.

(home indeed?)

M. Pa. By your leaue fir, I am ſicke till I fee her.

Ford. Has Page any braine? Hath he any eie? Hath he any thinking? Sure they fleepe, he hath no vſe of them: why this boy will carried a letter twentie mile as eafe, as a Canon will floor point-blanke twelue ſcore: hee peces out his wities inclination: he giues her folly motion and aduantage: and now ſhe's going to my wife, & Falſtaſſer ſboy with her: A man may heare this: ſhowre ſing in the wind; & Falſtaſſer ſboy with her: good plots, they are laide, and our neuroluted wities ſhare damnation together. Well, I will take him, then torture my wife, plucke the borrowed vail of modetie from the ſo-ſeeing Mift. Page, divulge Page himselfe, for a ſecure and

wilfull Alteon, and to these violent proceedings all my neighbors shall cry aime. The clocke giues me my Qu, and my affurance bids me ſearch, there I shall finde Falſaſſe: I ſhall be rather praudt for this, their motk'd, for it is as poffitие, as the earth is firme, that Falſaſſe is there: I will go.

Shal. Page, &c. Well met Mr. Ford.

Ford. Truſt me, a good knotte; I haue good cheere at home, and I pray you all go with me.

Shal. I muſt excuse my ſelfe Mr. Ford.

Slen. And for muſt I Sir,

We haue appointed to dine with Miftris Anne, And I would not breake with her for more mony Then Ile ſpeake of.

Shal. We haue linger'd about a match betweene An Page, and my cozen Slender, and this day wee shall haue our anſwer.

Slen. I hope I haue your good will Father Page.

Pag. You haue Mr. Slender, I stand wholly for you, But my wife (Mr. Doctor) is for you altogether.

Cai. I be-gar, and de Maid is loue-a-me: my nurſha-Quickly tell me for muſh.

Hoſt. What ſay you to yong Mr. Fenton? He capers, he dances, he has eies of youth: he writes verſes, hee ſpeakes holliday, he finels April and May, he will carry', he will carry', 'tis in his buttons, he will carry'.

Page. Not by my conſent I promife you. The Gentleman is of no hauing, hee kept companie with the wilde Prince, and Pointz: he is of too high a Region, he knows too much: no, hee 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 haue waits on my conſent, and my content goes not that way.

Ford. I beſeek you heartily, ſome of you goe home with me to dinner: beſides your cheere you shall haue ſport, I will ſhow you a monſter: Mr. Doctor, you ſhal go, ſo shall you Mr. Page, and you Sir Hugh.

Shal. Well, fare you well:

We ſhall haue the freer woing at Mr. Page.

Cai. Go home John Rugby, I come anon.

Hoſt. Farewell my hearts, I will to my honest Knight Falſaſſe, and drinke Canarie with him.

Ford. I thinke I ſhall drinke in Pipe-wine firſt with him, Ile make him dance. Will you go, Gentles?

All. Haue you with, to fee this Monſter.

Exeuus

## Scena Tertia.

Enter M. Ford, M. Page, Seruants, Robin, Falſaſſe,
Ford, Page, Cains, Euan.

Mift. Ford. What John, what Robert.

M. Page. Quickly, quickly: Is the Buck-basket—

Mif. Ford. I warrant. What Robin I ſay.

Mif. Page. Come, come, come.

Mif. Ford. Heere, let it downe.

M. Page. Giue your men the charge, we muſt be briefe, M. Ford, Marrie, as I told you before (John & Robert) be ready here hard-by in the Brew-houſe, & when I födainly call you, come forth, and (without: any paufe, or flaggering) take this basket on your shoulders: y'done, trudge with it in all haſt, and carry it among the Whitſters in Dotchet Mead, and there empty it in the muddie ditch, cloſe by the Thames ſide.

M. Page. You will do it?

(direction.)

M. Ford. I ha told them ouer and ouer, they lacke no

E

Be

58

The Merry Wives of Windsor.

Be gone, and come when you are call'd.

M. Page. Here comes little Robin. (with you?)

Miftr. Ford. How now my Eyas-Musker, what newes

Rob. My M, Sir John is come in at your backe doore
(Miftr. Ford, and requefts your company.

M. Page. You little Iack-a-lent, haue you bin true to vs

Rob. I, Ile be fwrne: my Mafter knowes not of your
being heere: and hath threatened to put me into cuerla-
fling liberty, if I tell you of it: for he fwares he'll turne
me away.

Miftr. Page. Thou'rt a good boy: this fecrecy of thine
shall be a Tailor to thee, and ſhal make thee a new dou-
blet and hofe. Ile go hide me.

M. Ford. Do so: go tell thy Maſter, I am alone: Mi-
ftris Page, remember you your Qu.

Miftr. Page. I warrant thee, if I do not act it, hiffle me.

Miftr. Ford. Go-too then: we'll vfe this vnwholſome
humidity, this groſſe-woody Pumption; we'll teach him
to know Turtles from Iayes.

Fal. Haue I caught thee, my heauenly Lewell? Why
now let me die, for I haue lu'd long enough: This is the
period of my ambition: O this blessed houre.

Miftr. Ford. Of sweet Sir John.

Fal. Miftris Ford, I cannot cog, I cannot pate (Miftr.
Ford) now ſhall I fin in my wifh; I would thy Husband
were dead, Ile ſpeake it before the beſt Lord, I would
make thee my Lady.

Miftr. Ford. I your Lady Sir John? Alas, I should bee a
pittifull Lady.

Fal. Let the Court of France shew me ſuch another:
I fee how thine eye would emulate the Diamond: Thou
hast the right arched-beauty of the brow, that becomes
the Ship-tyre, the Tyre-valiant, or any Tire of Venetian
admittance.

Miftr. Ford. A plaine Kerchieſe, Sir John:

My brows become nothing ſelbe, nor that well neither.

Fal. Thou art a tyrant to ſay so: thou wouldſt make
an abſolute Courtier, and the firme ſ fixture of thy ſtoſe,
would gueſe an excellent motion to thy gate, in a ſemi-
circled Farthingale. I fee what thou wert if Fortune thy
ſoe, were not Nature thy friend: Come, thou canſt not
hide it.

Miftr. Ford. Beleeue me, theſe no ſuch thing in me.

Fal. What made me loue thee? Let that perfide
thee. Ther's ſomething extraordinary in thee: Come, I
cannot cog, and ſay thou art this and that, like a manie
of theſe liping-haughtier buds, that come like women
in mens apparell, and ſmell like. Bucklers-berry in ſim-
ple time: I cannot, but I loue thee, none but thee; and
thou deferuſt it.

M. Ford. Do not betray me ſir, I fear you loue M. Page.

Fal. Thou mightſt as well ſay, I loue to walke by the
Counter-gate, which is as hatefull to me, as the reeke of
a Lime-kill.

Miftr. Ford. Well, heauen knowes how I loue you,
And you ſhall one day finde it.

Fal. Keepe in that minde, Ile deferue it.

Miftr. Ford. Nay, I muſt tell you, so you doe.

Or eſſe I could not be in that minde.

Rob. Miftris Ford, Miftris Ford: heere's Miftris Page at
the doore, ſweating, and blowing, and looking wildly,
and would needs ſpeake with you prefently.

Fal. She ſhall not fee me, I will enſonce mee behinde
the Arras.

M. Ford. Pray you do so, ſhe's a very tatling woman.
What's the matter? How now?

Miftr. Page. O Miftris Ford what haue you done?
You' flam'd, y' are ouerthrowne, y' are vndone for euer.

M. Ford. What's the matter, good Miftris Page?

M. Page. O weladay, Miftr. Ford, hauing an honeſt man
to your husband, to giue him ſuch cauſe of ſuſpition.

M. Ford. What cauſe of ſuſpition?

M. Page. What cauſe of ſuſpition? Out upon you:
How am I Miftooke in you?

M. Ford. Why (alas) what's the matter?

M. Page. Your husband's comming hether (Woman)
with all the Officers in Windsor, to ſearch for a Gentle-
man, that he ſayes heere now in the houſe; by your
confent to take an ill aduantage of his absence: you are
vndone.

M. Ford. 'Tis not so, I hope.

M. Page. Pray heauen it be not so, that you haue ſuch
a man heere: but 'tis moſt certaine your husband's com-
ming, with halſe Windsor at his heeles, to ſerch for ſuch
a one, I come before to tell you: If you know your ſelſe
cleere, why I am glad of it: but if you haue a friend here,
conuey, conuey him out. Be not amaz'd, call all your
ſenes to you, defend your reputation, or bid farwell to
your good life for euer.

M. Ford. What ſhall I do? There is a Gentleman my
deere friend: and I fear not mine owne ſhame ſo much,
as his perill. I had rather then a thouſand pound he were
out of the houſe.

M. Page. For ſhame, neuer ſtand (you had rather, and
you had rather:) your husband's heere at hand, bethinke
you of ſome conueyance: in the houſe you cannot hide
him. Oh, how haue you deceu'd me? I looke, heere is a
basket, if he be of any reaſonable ſtature, he may creepe
in heere, and throw ſowle linnen upon him, as if it were
going to bucking: Or it is whiting time, ſend him by
your two men to Datchet-Meade.

M. Ford. He's too big to go in there: what ſhall I do?

Fal. Let me fee't, let me fee't, O let me fee't:
Ile in, Ile in: Follow your friends counſell, Ile in.

M. Page. What Sir John Faſſaffe? Are theſe your Let-
ters, Knight?

Fal. I loue thee, helpe mee away: let me creepe in
heere: ile neuer—

M. Page. Helpe to couer your maſter (Boy:) Call
your men (Miftr. Ford.) You diſlembling Knight.

M. Ford, What Iohn, Robert, Iohn; Go, take vp theſe
cloathes heere, quickly: Whe't the Cowle-ſtaſſer? Look
how you drumble? Carry them to the Landreſſe in Dat-
chet mead: quickly, come.

Ford. 'Pray you come nere: if I ſuſpect without cauſe,
Why then make ſport at me, then let me be your iest,
I deferue it: How now? Whether beare you this?

Ser. To the Landreſſe forſooth?

M. Ford. Why, what haue you to doe whether they
beare it? You were beſt meddle with buck-washing.

Ford. Bucke I would I could waſh my ſelſe of y Bucke,
Bucke, bucke, bucke, I bucke: I warrant you Bucke,
And of the ſeason too; it ſhall appeare.

Gentlemen, I haue dream'd to night, Ile tell you my
dreame: heere, heere, heere bee my keyes, aſcend my
Chambers, ſeareh, ſeeke, ſinde out: Ile warrant wee'le
vnkennell the Fox. Let me stop this way firſt: so, now
vncape.

Page. Good maſter Ford, be contented:

You wrong your ſelſe too much.

Ford. True (maſter Page) vp Gentlemen,
You shall fee ſport anon:

Follow

The Merry Wives of Windsor.

51

Follow me Gentlemen.

Evans. This is fery fantasticall humors and icaloufes.

Caisus. By gar, 'tis no-the fashion of France :

It is not icalous in France.

Page. Nay follow him (Gentlemen) see the yffuse of his search.

Mift. Page Is there not a double excellency in this ?

Mift. Ford. I know not which pleafes me better,

That my husband is deceiued, or Sir John.

Mift. Page. What a taking was hee in, when your husband askt who was in the basket?

Mift. Ford. I am halfe affraid he will haue neede of washing: so throwing him into the water, will doe him a benefit.

Mift. Page. Hang him diſtoſeſt rafcall : I would all of the fame ſtraine, were in the fame diſtrefſe.

Mift. Ford. I thinke my husband hath ſome ſocialſufpition of Fall/ſaffs being heere: for I neuer saw him fo groſſe in his icalouſe till now.

Mift. Page. I will lay a plouto try that, and wee will yet haue more tricks with Fall/ſaffe: his diſſolute diſeafe will ſtearſe obey this medicine.

Mift. Ford. Shall we ſend that foolſhion Carion, Mift. Quicſky to him, and excufe his throwing into the water, and giue him another hope, to betray him to another punſuſhment?

Mift. Page. We will do it: let him be ſent for to morrow eight a clocke to haue amends.

Ford. I cannot finde him: may be the knaue bragg'd of that he could not compaſſe.

Mift. Page. Heard you that ?

Mift. Ford. You vſe me well, M. Ford? Do you ?

Ford. I, I do ſo.

M. Ford. Heauen make you better then your choughs

Ford. Amen.

Mr. Page. You do your ſelfe mighty wrong(M. Ford)

Ford. I, I: I muſt beare it.

Eu. If there be any pody in the houſe, & in the chambers, and in the coffers, and in the preſſes : heauen forgiue my fins at the day of iudgement.

Cains. Be gar, nor I too: there is no-bodies.

Page. Fy, ſy, M. Ford, are you not aſhaw'd? What ſpierit, what diuell ſuggels this imagination? I wold not ha your diſtemper in this kind, for ſy welth of WINDſOR caſſe.

Ford. 'Tis my fault (M. Page) I ſuffer for it.

Evans. You ſuffer for a pad confiſcience: your wife is as honſe a, o'mans, as I will defires among ſiue thousand, and ſiue hundred too.

Cai. By gar, I fee'tis an honſte woman.

Ford. Well, I promiſed you a dinner: come, come, walk in the Parke, I pray you pardon me: I wil hereafter make knowne to you why I haue done this. Come wife, come Mi. Page, I pray you pardon me. Pray hartly pardon me.

Page. Let's go in Gentlemen, but (truſt me) we'll mock him: I doe invite you to morrow morning to my houſe to breakfast: after we'll a Birding together, I haue a fine Hawke for the buſh. Shall it be ſo :

Ford. Any thing.

Eu. If there is one, I ſhall make two in the Companie

Ca. If there be one, or two, I ſhall make-a-thurdet.

Ford. Pray you go, M. Page.

Eu. I pray you now remembrance to morrow on the lowſe knaue, mine Hoft.

Cai. Dat is good by gar, withall my heart.

Eu. Allowſe knaue, to haue his gibes, and his mockeries. Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Fenton, Anne, Page, Shallow, Slender, Quickly, Page, Mift. Page.

Fen. I fee I cannot get thy Fathers loue,
Therefore no more turne me to him (sweet Nan.)

Anne. Alas, how then ?

Fen. Why thou muſt be thy ſelfe.

He doth obie, I am too great of birth,

And that my ſtate being gall'd with my expence,
I feeke to heale it onely by his wealth.

Besides theſe, other barres he layes before me,

My Riots paff, my wilde Societies,

And tels me'tis a thing impoffible

I should loue thee, but as a property.

An. May be he tels me true.

No, heauen to ſpeed me in my time to come,

Albeit I will confefſe, thy Fathers wealth

Was the firſt motiue that I woo'd thee (Anne):

Yet wooping thee, I found thee of more valew

Then flampes in Gold, or fummes in fealed bagges :

And 'tis the very riches of thy ſelfe,

That now I ayme at.

An. Gentle M. Fenton,

Yet feeke my Fathers loue, ſtill feeke it firſ,

If opportunity and humblèſt ſuite

Cannot attaine it, why then harke you hither.

Shal. Breake their talke Miftris Quicſky,

My Kinfman ſhall ſpeake for himſelſe.

Slen. Ile make a ſhaft or a bolt on't, ſlid, tis but ventu-

Shal. Benot diſmaide.

Slen. No, ſhe shall not diſmay me :

I care not for that, but that I am affeard.

Qui. Hark ye, M. Slender would ſpeak a word with you

An. I come to him. This is my Fathers choice:

O what a world of vilde ill-fauour'd faults

Lookes handſome in three hundred pounds a ycere?

Qui. And how do's good Maſter Fenton?

Pray you a word with you.

Shal. Shee's comming; to her Coz:

O boy, thou hadſt a father.

Slen. I had a father (M. An) my uncle can tel you good iſt of him: pray you Vnkle, tel Mift. Anne the iſt how my Father ſtole two Geefe out of a Pen, good Vnkle.

Shal. Miftris Anne, my Cozen loues you.

Slen. I that I do, as well as I loue any woman in Gloceſſerſhire.

Shal. He will maintaine you like a Gentlewoman.

Slen. I that I will, come cut and long-taile, vnder the degree of a Squire.

Shal. He will make you a hundred and ſiftie pounds ioynture.

Anne. Good Maſter Shallow let him woo for himſelſe.

Shal. Marrie. I thanke you for it : I thanke you for that good comfort: ſhe cals you (Coz) Ile leaue you.

Anne. Now Maſter Slender.

Slen. Now good Miftris Anne.

Anne. What is your will ?

Slen. My will ? Odd's-hart-lings, that's a prettie iſt indeede: I ne're made my Will yet (I thanke Heaſt) I am not ſuch a fickely creature, I giue Heauen praisef.

E 2

An.

The Merry Wives of Windsor.

52

Anne. I meane (M. Slender) what wold you with me?
Slen. Truely, for mine owne part, I would little or
nothing with you; your father and my vncle hath made
motion: if it be my lucke, so; if not, happy man bee his
dole; they can tell you how things go, better then I can,
you may aske your father, heere he comes.

Page. Now Mr. Slender; Loue him daughter Anne.
Why how now? What does Mr. Fentor here?

You wrong me Sir, thus still to haunt my houfe.

I told you Sir, my daughter is dispoſd of.

Fen. Nay Mr. Page, be not impatient.

Mist. Page. Good M. Fenton, come not to my child.

Page. She is no match for you.

Fen. Sir, will you heare me?

Page. No, good M. Fenton,

Come M. Shallow: Come londe Slender, in ;

Knowing my minde, you wrong me(M. Fenton.)

Qui. Speake to Mistris Page.

Fen. Good Mist. Page, for that I loue your daughter
In such a righteous fashion as I do,

Perforce, againſt all checkes, rebukes, and manners,
I muſt aduance the colours of my loue,

And not retire. Let me haue your good will.

An. Good mother, do not marry me to yond fool.

Mist. Page. I meane it not, I feeke you a better huſ-
band.

Qui. That's my maſter, M. Doctor.

An. Alas I had rather be fet quick i'th' earth,
And bowl'd to death with Turnips.

Mist. Page. Come, trouble not your ſelfe good M.
Fenton, I will not be your friend, nor enemy:
My daughter will I question how ſhe loues you,
And as I finde her, ſo am I affected :

Till then, farewell Sir, ſhe muſt needs go in,
Her father will be angry.

Fen. Farewell gentle Mistris : farewell Nan.

Qui. This is my doing now: Nay, faide I, will you caſt away your childe on a Boole, and a Phyſitian :

Looke on M. Fentov, this is my doing.

Fen. I thanketh thee: and I pray thee once to night,
Gie my sweet Nan this Ring: there's for thy paines.

Qui. Now heauen ſend thee good fortune, a kinde
heart he hath: a woman would run through fire & wa-
ter for ſuch a kinde heart. But yet, I would my Maſter
had Mistris Anne, or I would M. Slender had her: or (in
footh) I would M. Fenton had her; I will do what I can
for them all three, for so I haue promiſed, and Ile bee as
good as my word, but ſpeciouſly for M. Fenton. Well, I
muſt of another errand to Sir John Falſaffe from my two
Miftreffes: what a beaſt am I to ſlacke it.

Exeunt

## Scena Quinta.

Enter Falſaffe, Bardolſe, Quickly, Ford.

Fal. Bardolſe I lay.

Bar. Heere Sir.

Fal. Go, fetch me a quart of Sacke, put a toſt in't.

Hae I liu'd to be carried in a Basket like a barrow of
butchers Offall ? and to be throwne in the Thames? Wel,
if I be ſeru'd ſuch another tricke, I haue my braines
t'rene out and butter'd, and giue them to a dogge, for a
New-yeares gift. The rogues flighted me into the river
with as little remorſe, as they would haue drown'd de a

blinde bitches Puppies, ſiſteene i'th' litter: and you may
know by my ſize, that I haue a kinde of alacrity in ſink-
ing: if the bottome were as deepe as hell, I ſhold down,
I had beene drown'd, but that the shore was ſhely and
ſhallow: a death that I abhorre: for the water ſwelles a
man; and what a thing should I haue beene, when I
had beene ſwel'd? I should haue beene a Mountaine of
Mummie.

Bar. Here's M. Quickly Sir to ſpeake with you,

Fal. Come, let me pourre in ſome Sack to the Thames
water: for my bellies as cold as if I had ſwallow'd ſnow-
bals, for pilles to coole the reines. Call her in.

Bar. Come in woman.

Qui. By your leaue: I cry you mercy?

Gie your worſhip good morrow.

Fal. Take away theſe Challices :

Go, brew me a pottle of Sacke finely.

Bard. With Egges, Sir?

Fal. Simple of it ſelfe: Ile no Pullet-Sperſine in
brewage. How now?

Qui. Marry Sir, I come to your worſhip from M. Ford.
Fal. Mift. Ford? I haue had Ford enough: I was thrown
into the Ford; I haue my belly full of Ford.

Qui. Alas the day, (good-heart) that was not her
fault: ſhe do's ſo take on with her men; they miſtooke
their erection.

(promife.)

Fal. So did I mine, to build ypon a foolish Womans

Qui. Well, ſhe laments Sir for it, that it would yern
your heart to ſee it: her husband goes this morning a
birding; ſhe defines you once more to come to her, be-
tweene eight and nine: I muſt carry her word quickly,
ſhe'll make you amends I warrant you.

Fal. Well, I will viſit her, tell her ſo: and bidde her
thinke what a man is: Let her confider his frailety, and
then iudge of my merit.

Qui. I will tell her.

Fal. Do ſo. Betweene nine and ten ſaith thou?

Qui. Eight and nine Sir.

Fal. Well, be gone: I will not miſſe her.

Qui. Peace be with you Sir.

Fal. I meruaile I heare not of Mr. Broome: he ſent me
word to ſtay within: I like his money well.

Oh, heere be comes.

Ford. Blesſe you Sir.

Fal. Now M. Broome, you come to know

What hath pafft betweene me, and Fords wife.

Ford. That indeed (Sir John) is my buſineſſe.

Fal. M. Broome I will not lye to you,

I was at his houſe the houſe the appointed me.

Ford, And ſped you Sir?

Fal. very ill-ſauouredly M. Broome.

Ford. How ſo fir, did ſhe change her determination?

Fal. No(M. Broome) but the peaking Curnuto her huſ-
band(M. Broome) dwelling in a centinual larum of ielou-
ſie, coms me in the infant of our encounter, after we had
embraſt, kift proteſted, &(as it were) ſpoke the prologue
of our Comedy: and at his heeles, a rabble of his compa-
nions, thither prouoked and infligted by his diſtemper,
and(forfooth) to ſerch his houſe for his wiues Loue.

Ford. What? While you were there?

Fal. While I was there.

For. And did he ſearch for you, & could not find you?

Fal. You ſhall heare. As good lucke would haue it,
comes in one Mift. Page, gues intelligence of Fords ap-
proch: and in her inuention, and Fords wiues diſtraCTION,
they conuey'd me into a bucke-basket.

Ford

The Merry Wines of Windsor.

53

Ford. A Buck-basket?

Fal. Yes: a Buck-basket: ram'd mee in with foule
Shirts and Smockes, Socks, foule Stockings, greafie
Napkins, that (Mafter Broome) there was the rankeft
compound of villanous smell, that cuer offended no-
frill.

Ford. And how long lay you there?

Fal. Nay, you shall heare (Mafter Broome) what I
haue suffered, to bring this woman to cuill, for your
good: Being thus cram'd in the Basket, a couple of
Fords knaues, his Hindes, were cald forth by their Mi-
ftris, to carry mee in the name of foule Cloathes to
Datchet-lane: they tooke me on their shoulders: met
the icalious knaue their Mafter in the doore; who
thick'd them once or twice what they had in their Baf-
ket? I quak'd for feare leaft the Lunatique Knaue
would haue fearch'd it: but Fate (ordaining he should
be a Cuckold) held his hand: well, on went hee, for
a fearch, and away went I for foule Cloathes: But
marke the fequell (Mafter Broome) I suffered the pangs
of three feuerall deaths: Firſt, an intollerable fright,
to be deteſted with a icalious rotten Bell-weather:
Next to be compaſs'd like a good Bilbo in the circum-
ference of a Pecke, hilt to point, heele to head. And
then to be flopt in like a ſtrong diffillation with Stin-
ing Cloathes, that fretted in their owne greaſe:
thinke of that, a man of my Kidney; thinke of that,
that am as ſubieſt to heate as butter; a man of con-
tinuall diſolution, and thaw: it was a miracle to ſcape
ſuffocation. And in the height of this Bath (when I
was more then halfe ſtew'd in greaſe (like a Dutch-
diſh) to be throwne into the Thames, and
coold, glowing-hot, in that ſerge like a Horſe-
ſhoo; thinke of that; hiffing hot: thinke of that (Mafter
Broome.)

Ford. In good ſadneſſe Sir, I am ſorry, that for my ſake
you haue ſuffered all this.
My ſuite then is desperate: You'll vndertake her no
more?

Fal. Mafter Broome: I will be throwne into Etwa,
as I haue beene into Thames, ere I will leaue her thus;
her Husband is this morning gone a Birding: I
haue receiued from her another ambaffie of mee-
ting: 'twixt eight and nine is the houre (Mafter
Broome.)

Ford. 'Tis paſſ eight already Sir.

Fal. Is it? I will then addreſſe mee to my appoint-
ment: Come to mee at your conuenient leifure, and
you shall know how I ſpeede: and the conclusion
SHall be crowned with your enioying her: adiew: you
SHall haue her (Mafter Broome) Mafter Broome, you ſhall
cuckold Ford.

Ford. Hum: ha? Is this a vifion? Is this a dreame?
doe I sleepe? Mafter Ford awake, awake Mafter Ford:
ther's a hole made in your beſt coate (Mafter Ford): this
'tis to be married; this 'tis to haue Lynnen, and Buck-
baskers: Well, I will proclaime my ſelfe what I am:
I will now take the Leacher: hee is at my houſe: hee
cannot ſcape me: 'tis impoſſible hee should: hee can-
not creepe into a halfe-penny purſe, nor into a Pepper-
Boxe: But leaſt the Diuell that guides him, should
aide him; I will ſearch impoſſible places: though
what I am, I cannot auoide; yet to be what I would
not, ſhall not make me tame: If I haue hornes, to make
one mad, let the prouerbe goe with me, Ile be horne-
mad.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Miftris Page, Quickly, William, Evans.

Mift.Pag. Is he at M. Fords already think'ft thou?

Qui. Sure he is by this; or will be prefently; but
truely he is very couragious mad, about his throwing
into the water. Miftris Ford deſes you to come fö-
dainely.

Mift.Pag. He be with her by and by: Ile but bring
my yong-man here to Schoole: looke where his Maſer
comes; 'tis a playing day I fee: how now Sir Hugh, no
Schoole to day?

Eua. Ne: Mafter Slender is let the Boyes leaue to play.

Qui. 'Bleſſing of his heart.

Mift.Pag. Sir Hugh, my husband fales my ſonne pro-
fits nothing in the world at his Booke: I pray you aske
him ſome queſtions in his Accidence.

Eu. Come hither William; hold vp your head; come.

Mift.Tag. Come-on Sirha; hold vp your head; an-
were your Mafter, be not afraid.

Eua. William, how many Numbers is in Nownes?

Will. Two.

Qui. Truely, I thought there had bin one Number
more, because they ſay od's-Nownes.

Eua. Peace, your tatlings. What is (Faire) William?

Will. Pulcher.

Qu. Powlcats? there are fairer things then Powlcats,
fure.

Eua. You are a very ſimplicity o'man: I pray you
peace. What is (Lapis) William?

Will. A Stone.

Eua. And what is a Stone (Williams)?

Will. A Peeble.

Eua. No; it is Lapis: I pray you remetuer in your
praine.

Will. Lapis.

Eua. That is a good William: what is he (William) that
do's lend Articles.

Will. Articles are borrowed of the Pronounes; and be
thus declined. Singulariter nominativo his hae, hoc.

Eua. Nominativo big bag, hog: pray you marke: geni-
tio huines: Well: what is your Accufatine-cafe?

Will. Accufatino hinc.

Eua. I pray you haue your remembrance (childe) Ac-
cufatino hing, hang, hog.

Qu. Hang-hog, is latten for Bacon, I warrant you.

Eua. Leaue your prables (o'man) What is the Foc-
tine cafe (William)?

Will. O, Vocatino, O.

Eua. Remember William, Focatine, is cavet.

Qu. And that's a good roote.

Eua. O'man, forbeare.

Mift.Pag. Peace.

Eua: What is your Genitine cafe plur all (Williams)?

Will. Genitine cafe?

Eua. I.

Will. Genitine horum, harum, horums.

Qu. 'Vengeance of Ginyes cafe; ſie on her; neuer
name her (childe) if she be a whole.

Eua. For ſhame o'man.

Qu. You doe ill to teach the childe ſuch words: hee
teaches him to hie, and to hae; which they'll doe faſt
enough of themefluels, and to call horum; ſie upon you.

E 3

Eua. 'Oman

The Merry Wines of Windsor.

54

Evans. O’man, art thou Lunaties ? Haft thou no verdantstandings for thy Cafes, & the numbers of the Genters? Thou art as foolish Christian creatures, as I would desifies.

Ms. Page. Pre’ thee hold thy peace.

Eu. Shew me now (william) some declensions of your Pronouns.

Will. Forfooth, I haue forgot.

Eu. It is Qui, que, quod ; if you forget your Quies, your Ques, and your Quods, you muft be preeches: Goe your waies and play, go.

Mr. Pag. He is a better scholler then I. thought he was.

Eu. He is a good sprag-memory: Farewel Ms. Page.

Ms. Page. Adieu good Sir Hugh :

Get you home boy, Come we stay too long.

Exenunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Falstaffe, Mist. Ford, Mist. Page, Servants, Ford, Page, Cains, Evans, Shallow.

Fal. Mi. Ford, Your forrow hath eaten vp my sufferance; I fee you are obsequious in your loue, and I protestefle requitall to a haires bredth, not onely Mist. Ford, in the fimple office of loue, but in all the accuftrement, complement, and ceremony of it: But are you fure of your husband now?

Mist. Ford. Hee’s a birding (sweet Sir John.)

Mist. Page. What hoa, goffip Ford : what hoa.

Mist. Ford. Step into th’ chamber, Sir John.

Mist. Page. How now (sweete heart) whose at home befides your felfe ?

Mist. Ford. Why none but mine owne people.

Mist. Page. Indeed?

Mist. Ford. No certainly : Speake louder.

Mist. Pag. Truly, I am so glad you haue no body here.

Mist. Ford. Why?

Mist. Page. Why woman, your husband is in his olde lines againe : he so takes on yonder with my husband, so railles againſt all married mankinde ; so curſes all Emes daughters, of what complexion ſoEUer ſand so buffettes himſelfe on the for-head: crying peere-out, peere-out, that any madneſſe I euer yet beheld, ſeem’d but tame-neſſe, euillity, and patience to this his diſtemper he is in now : I am glad the fat Knight is not heere.

Mist. Ford. Why, do’s he talke of him?

Mist. Page. Of none but him, and ſweares he was ca-ried out the laſt time hee ſearch’d for him, in a Basket: Proteſts to my husband is now heere, & hath drawne him and the reſt of their company from their ſport, to make another experiment of his ſuſpition: But I am glad the Knight is not heere ; now he ſhall fee his owne foozlerie.

Mist. Ford. How neere is he Mistris Page?

Mist. Pag. Hard by, at freeet end ; he wil be here anon.

Mist. Ford. I am vndone, the Knight is heere.

Mist. Page. Why then you are vtherly ſham’d, & hee’s but a dead man. What a woman are you ? Away with him, away with him: Better ſhame, then murther.

Mist. Ford. Which way should he go ? How ſhould I beſtow him ? Shall I put him into the basket againe?

Fal. No, Ile come no more i’th Basket :

May I not go out ere he come ?

Mist. Page. Alas : three of Mr. Ford’s brothers watch the doore with Piffols, that none ſhall ifſue out : otherwife you might flip away ere hee came: But what make you heere ?

Fal. What ſhall I do ? Ile creepe vp into the chimney.

Mist. Ford. There they alwaies vfe to diſcharge their Birding-peeces : creepe into the Kill-hole.

Fal. Where is it?

Mist. Ford. He will feeke there on my word: Neyther Prefſe, Coffer, Cheſt, Trunke, Well, Vault, but he hath an abſtraet for the remembrance of ſuch places, and goes to them by his Note : There is no hiding you in the houſe.

Fal. Ile go out then.

Mist. Ford. If you goe out in your owne ſemblance, you die Sir John, vnleſſe you go out diſguis’d.

Mist. Ford. How might we diſguife him?

Mist. Page. Alas the day I know not, there is no wo-mans gowne bigge enough for him : otherwife he might put on a hat, a muffler, and a kerchieſe, and ſo eſcape.

Fal. Good hearts, deuife ſomething : any extremite, rather then a miſchieſe.

Mist. Ford. My Maids Aunt the fat woman of Brainford, has a gowne abouse.

Mist. Page. On my word it will ferue him : ſhee’s as big as he is : and there’s her thrum’d hat, and her muffler too : run vp Sir John.

Mist. Ford. Go, go, Iweet Sir John: Mistris Page and I will looke ſome linnen for your head.

Mist. Page. Quicke, quicke, wee’le come drefſe you fraight: put on the gowne the while.

Mist. Ford. I would my husband would meete him in this ſhape: he cannot abide the old woman of Brainford ; he ſweares ſhe’s a witch, forbad her my houſe, and hath threatned to beate her.

Mist. Page. Heauen guide him to thy husbands cudgell : and the diuell guide his cudgell afterwards.

Mist. Ford. But is my husband comming ?

Mist. Page. I in good faſneſſe is he, and talks of the basket too, how ſoEUer he hath had intelligence.

Mist. Ford. Wee’l try that: for Ile appoint my men to carry the basket againe, to meete him at the doore with it, as they did laſt time.

Mist. Page. Nay, but hee’l be heere preſently: let’s go drefſe him like the witch of Brainford.

Mist. Ford. Ile firſt direct direct my men, what they ſhall do with the basket: Goe vp, Ile bring linnen for him ſtraight.

Mist. Page. Hang him diſhoneſt Varlet,

We cannot miſufe enough :

We’ll leaue a proofe by that which we will doo,

Wiues may be merry, and yet honeſt too :

We do not acte that often, iſt, and laugh,

Tis old, but true, Still Swine eats all the draugh.

Mist. Ford. Go Sirs, take the basket againe on your shoulders: your Maſter is hard at doore: if hee bid you fet it downe, obey him: quickly, dispatch.

1 Ser. Come, come, take it vp.

2 Ser. Pray heauen it be not full of Knight againe.

1 Ser. I hope not, I had lieſe as beare ſo much lead.

Ford. I, but if it proue true (Mr. Page) haue you any way then to vnfoole me againe. Set downe the basket villaine: ſome body call my wife: Youth in a basket: Oh you Panderne Rafaſals, there’s a knot: a gin, a paſſe, a confpiracie againſt me: Now ſhall the diuell be ſham’d. What wife I lay: Come, come forth: behold what ho-neſt

The Merry Wines of Windsor.

55

nelt cloathes you fend forth to bleaching.

Page. Why, this paffes M. Ford: you are not to goe
loole any longer, you muft be pinnion'd.

Evans. Why, this is Lunaticks: this is madde, as a
mad dogge.

Shall. Indeed M. Ford, thi is not well indeed.

Ford. So fay I too Sir, come hither Miftris Ford, Miftris Ford, the honeſt woman, the modſet wife, the vertuous creature, that hath the ialleous foole to her husband: I ſuſpect without caufe (Miftris) do I?

Mift. Ford. Heauen be my witneſſe you doe, if you ſuſpect me in any diſhonesty.

Ford. Well faid Bazon-face, hold it out: Come forth
firrah.

Page. This paffes.

Mifl. Ford. Are you not afham'd, let the cloths alone.

Ford. I ſhall finde you anon.

Eua. 'Tis vnreſonable; will you take vp your wiuues
cloathes? Come, away.

Ford. Empty the basket I fay.

M. Ford. Why man, why?

Ford. Maſter Page, as I am a man, there was one con-
way'd out of my houſe yefterday in this basket : why
may not he be there againe, in my houſe I am ſure he is:
my Intelligence is true, my ialleouſe is reaſonable, pluck
me out all the linnen.

Mift. Ford. If you find a man there, he ſhall dye a Fleas
death.

Page. Heer's no man.

Shal. By my fidelity this is not well Mr. Ford: This
wrongs you.

Evans. Mr. Ford, you muſt pray, and not follow the
imaginations of your owne heart: this is ialleouſes.

Ford. Well, hee's not heere I feeke for.

Page. No, nor no where else but in your braine.

Ford. Helpe to fearch my houſe this one time if I find
not what I feeke, ſhew no colour for my extremity: Let
me for euer be your Table-ſport: Let them ſay of me, as
cicalous as Ford, that (fearch'd a hollow Wall-nut for his
wiuues Lemman. Satisſe me once more, once more ſerch
with me.

M. Ford. What hoa (Miftris Page,) come you and the old woman downe: my husband will come into the Chamber.

Ford. Old woman? what old womans that?

M. Ford. Why it is my maids Aunt of Brainford.

Ford. A witch, a Qucane, an olde couzening queane:
Hae I not forbid her my houſe. She comes of errands
do's ſhe? We are ſimple men, wee doe not know what's
brought to paffe vnder the proſeffion of Fortune-telling.
She workes by Charmes, by Spels, by th'Figure, & ſuch
dawbry as this is, beyond our Element: wee know no-
thing. Come downe you Witch, you Hagge you, come
downe I fay.

Mifl. Ford. Nay, good fweet husband, good Gentlemen, let him strike the old woman.

Mift. Page. Come mother Prat, Come giue me your
hand.

Ford. Ile Prat-her: Out of my doore, you Witch,
you Ragge, you Baggage, you Poulcat, you Runnion,
out, out: Ile coniure you, Ile fortune-tell you.

Mift. Page. Are you not afham'd?
I thinke you haue kill'd the poore woman.

Mifl. Ford. Nay he will do it, 'tis a goodly credite
for you.

Ford. Hang her witch.

Eua. By yea, and no, I thinke the o'man is a witch in-
decide: I like not when a o'man has a great peard; I ſpie
a great peard vnder his muffler.

Ford. Will you follow Gentlemen, I befeech you fol-
low: see but the iffe of my ialleouſe: If I cry out thus
vpon no traille, neuer truſt me when I open againe.

Page. Let's obey his humour a little further:
Come Gentlemen.

Mifl. Page. Truſt me he beate him moſt pittifully.

Mifl. Ford. Nay by th'Maſſe that he did not: he beate
him moſt vnpitſtifully, me thought.

Mifl. Page. Ile haue the cudgell hallow'd, and hung
ore the Altar, it hath done meritorious ſeruice.

Mifl. Ford. What thinke you? May we with the war-
rant of woman-hood, and the witneſſe of a good confi-
ence, purſue him with any further reuenge ?

M. Page. The ſpirit of wantonneſſe is ſure ſcar'd out of him, if the diuell haue him not in fee-ſimple, with fine and recovery, he will neuer (I thinke) in the way of wafe, attempt vs againe.

Mifl. Ford. Shall we tell our husbands how wee haue
feru'd him?

Mifl. Page. Yes, by all meanes: if it be but to ſcrape
the figures out of your husbands brains: if they can find
in their hearts, the poore vnuertuous fat Knight ſhall be
any further afflicted, wee two will ſtill bee the mini-
ſters.

Mifl. Ford. Ile warrant, they'l haue him publiquely
fham'd, and me thinkes there would be no period to the
ieſt, should he not be publicly ſham'd.

Mifl. Page. Come, to the Forge with it, then ſhape it:
I would not haue things coole.
Exeunt

## Scena Tertia.

### Enter Hoſt and Bardolſe.

Bar. Sir, the Germane deſires to haue three of your horſes: the Duke himſelfe will be to morrow at Court, and they are going to meet me.

Hoſt. What Duke ſhould that be comes ſo ſecretly ?
I heare not of him in the Court: let mee ſpeake with the
Gentlemen, they ſpeake English?

Bar. I Sir? Ile call him to you.

Hoſt. They ſhall haue my horſes, but Ile make them
pay: Ile ſauce them, they haue had my houſes a week at
command: I haue turn'd away my other gueſts, they
muſt come off, Ile ſawce them, come.
Exeunt

## Scena Quarta.

### Enter Page, Ford, Miftris Page, Miftris
Ford, and Evans.

Eua. 'Tis one of the beſt diſeretions of a o'man as e-
uer I did looke vpon.

Page. And did he ſend you both theſe Letters at an
inſant?

Mifl. Page. VWithin a quarter of an houre.

Ford. Pardon me (wife) henceforth do what I will:
I rather will ſuſpect the Sunne with gold,

Then thee with wantonnes: Now doth thy honor ſtand

(In

The Merry Wives of Windsor.

(In him that was of late an Heretike)
As firme as faith.

*Page.* 'Tis well,' 'tis well, no more:
Be not as extreme in submission, as in offence,
But let our plot go forward: Let our wives
Yet once againe (to make vs publike vsport)
Appoint a meeting with this old fat-fellow,
Where we may take him, and disgrace him for it.

*Ford.* There is no better way then that they spoke of.

*Page.* How? to fend him word they'll meete him in
the Parke at midnight? Fie, fie, he'll neuer come.

*En.* You say he has bin throwne in the Riuers : and
has bin greeneoufly peaten, as an old o'man: me-thinkes
there should be terrors in him, that he should not come:
Me-thinkes his flesh is punиш'd, hee shall haue no de-
fires.

*Page.* So thinke I too.

*M. Ford.* Deuife but how you'l vse him whé he comes,
And let vs two deuife to bring him therthe.

*Mif Page.* There is an old tale goes, that Herne the Hunter (fometime a keeper heere in Windsor Forreft) Doth all the winter time, at full midnight Walke round about an Oake, with great rag'd-hornes, And there he bnafts the tree, and takes the cattle, And make milch-kine yeeld blood, and shakes a chaine In a moft hideous and dreadfull manner.

You haue heard of such a Spirit, and well you know
The superstitious idle-headed-Eld
Receiu'd, and did deliuer to our age
This tale of Herne the Hunter, for a truth.

*Page.* Why yet there want not many that do feare
In deepe of night to walke by this Hernes Oake:
But what of this?

*Mif. Ford.* Marry this is our deuife,

That Falſtaffe at that Oake ſhall meete with vs.

*Page.* Well, let it not be doubted but he'll come,
And in this shape, when you haue brought him therthe,
What ſhall be done with him? What is your plot?

*Mif. Pa.* That likewife haue we thought vpon: & thus:
*Nav Page* (my daughter) and my little ſonne,
And three or foure more of their growth, wee'd dreſſe
Like Vrchins, Ouphes, and Fairies, Greene and white,
With rounds of waxen Tapers on their heads,
And rattles in their hands; vpon a ſodaine,
As Falſtaffe, ſhe, and I, are newly met,
Let them from forth a ſaw-pit rush at once
With some diffused ſong: Vpon their fight
We two, in great amazementneſſe will flye:
Then let them all encircle him about,
And Fairy-like to pinch the vnclcane Knight;
And aske him why that hour of Fairy Reuell,
In their ſo sacred pathes, he dare to tread
In shape prophane.

*Ford.* And till he tell the truth,
Let theSUPPOſed Fairies pinch him, found,
And burne him with their Tapers.

*Mif Page.* The truth being knowne,
We'll all preſent our ſelues; diſ-horne the ſpirit,
And mocke him home to Windsor.

*Ford.* The children muſt
Be præſtis'd well to this, or they'll neuer do't.

*Ena.* I will teach the children their behauiours: and I
will be like a lacke-an-Apes alio, to burne the Knight
with my Taber.

*Ford.* That will be excellent,
Ile go buy them vizards.

*Mif. Page.* My Nan shall be the Queene of all the
Fairies, finely attired in a robe of white.

*Page.* That filke will I go buy, and in that time
Shall M. Slender reale my Nan away,
And marry her at Eaton: go, ſend to Falſtaffe straight.

*Ford.* Nay, Ile to him againe in name of Broome,
Hee'll tell me all his purpofe: ſure hee'll come.

*Mif. Page.* Feare not you that: Go get vs properties
And tricking for our Fayries.

*Evans.* Let vs about it,
It is admirable pleatures, and ferry honest knaueries,

*Mif. Page.* Go Mif. Ford,
Send quickly to Sir John, to know his minde:
Ile to the Doctor, he hath my good will,
And none but he to marry with Nan Page:
That Slender (though well landed) is an Ideot:
And he, my husband beſt of all aſſeets:
The Doctor is well monied, and his friends
Potent at Court: he, none but he shall haue her,
Though twenty thousand worthier come to craue her.

## Scena Quinta.

*Enter Hoft, Simple, Falſtaffe, Bardolſe, Evans, Cains, Quickly.*

*Hoft.* What wouldſt thou haue? (Boore) what? (thick skin) ſpeake, breathe, diſcuffe: brieſe, ſhort, quicke, ſnap.

*Simp.* Marry Sir, I come to ſpeake with Sir John Falſtaffe from M. Slender.

*Hoft.* There's his Chamber, his House, his Castle,
his flanding-bed and tricker-bed : 'tis painted about
with the story of the Prodigall, fresh and new: go, knock
and call: hee' ſpeake like an Anthropophaginian vnto
thee: Knocke I ſay.

*Simp.* There's an olde woman, a fat woman gone vp
into his chamber: Ile be so bold as ſtay Sir till ſhe come
downe: I come to ſpeake with her indeed.

*Hoft.* Ha? A fat woman? The Knight may be robb'd:
Ile call. Bully-Knight, Bully Sir John: ſpeake from thy
Lungs Military: Art thou there? It is thine Hoft, thine
Epheſian cals.

*Fal.* How now, mine Hoft?

*Hoft.* Here's a Bohemian-Tartaries the comming
downe of thy fat-woman : Let her defcend (Bully) let
her defcend: my Chambers are honourable: Fie, prima-
cy? Fie.

*Fal.* There was (mine Hoft) an old-fat-woman euen
now with me, but ſhe's gone.

*Simp.* Pray you Sir, was't not the Wife-woman of
Braunſord?

*Fal.* I marry was it (Muffel-shell) what would you
with her ?

*Simp.* My Maſter (Sir) my maſter Slender, ſent to her
feeing her go thorough the streets, to know (Sir) whe-
ther one Nim (Sir) that beguil'd him of a chaine, had the
chaine, or no.

*Fal.* I ſpake with the old woman about it.

*Simp.* And what fayes ſhe, I pray Sir?

*Fal.* Marry ſhe ſayes, that the very fame man that
beguil'd Maſter Slender of his Chaine, cozon'd him of it.

*Simp.* I would I could haue ſpoken with the Woman
her

The Merry Wines of Windsor.

57

her selfe, I had other things to haue spoken with her too, from him.

Fal. What are they? Let vs know.

Fal. I: come: quicke.

Fal. I may not conceale them (Sir.)

Fal. Conceale them, or thou diſt.

Sim. Why fir, they were nothing but about Miftris Anne Page, to know if it were my Maſters fortune to haue her, or no.

Fal. 'Tis, 'tis his fortune.

Sim. What Sir ?

Fal. To haue her, or no, goe; say the woman told me so.

Sim. May I be bold to ſay so Sir?

Fal. I Sir: like who more bold.

Sim. I thank you for your worſhip: I ſhall make my Maſter glad with theſe tydings.

Hoff. Thou are clearly: thou art clearly (Sir John) was there a wife woman with thee?

Fal. I that there was (mine Hoff) one that hath taught me more wit, then euer I learned before in my life: and I paid nothing for it neither, but was paid for my learning.

Bar. Out alas (Sir) cozónage: meere cozónage.

Hoff. Where be my horſes? ſpeake well of them varletto.

Bar. Run away with the cozóners: for, so ſoon as I came beyond Eaton, they threw me off, from behinde one of them, in a ſlough of myre; and ſet ſpurres, and away; like three Germane-diuels; three Doctor Fausts, etc.

Hoff. They are gone but to meete the Duke (villaine) doe not ſay they be fled: Germanes are honest men.

Euan. Where is mine Hoff?

Hoff. What is the matter Sir?

Euan. Haue a care of your entertainments: there is a friend of mine come to Towne, tels mee there is three Cozen-Iermans, that has cozond all the Hoffs of Readins, of Maidenhead; of Cole-brooke, of horſes and money: I tell you for good will (looke you) you are wife, and full of gibes, and vlouting-flocks: and 'tis not convenient you should be cozoned. Fare you well.

Cai. Ver' is mine Hoff de Iarteere?

Hoff. Here (Master Doctor) in perplexitie, and doubtfull delemma.

Cai. I cannot tell var is dat: but it is tell-a-me, dat you make grand preparation for a Duke de Iavanie: by my trot: der is no Duke that the Court is know, to come: I tell you for good will: adieu.

Hoff. Huy and cry, (villaine) goe: aſſiſt me Knight, I am vndone: fly, run: huy, and cry (villaine). I am vndone.

Fal. I would all the world might be cozond, for I haue beene cozond and beaten too: if it should come to the care of the Court, how I haue beene transformed; and how my transformation hath beene waſhed, and cudgeld, they would melt mee out of my fat drop by drop, and liquor Eisbermens-boots with me: I warrant they would whip me with their fine wits, till I were as creft-falne as a bride-pearce: I neuer proſper'd, since I forſtore my ſelfe at Primero: well, if my winde were but long enough; I would repent: Now? Whence come you?

Qui. From the two parties for ſooth.

Fal. The Dwell take one party, and his Dam the other: and so they shall be both berowed. I haue ſuſ-

ſer'd more for their fakes; more then the villanous inconstancy of man's diſposition is able to beare.

Qui. And haue not they ſuffer'd Yes, I warrant; ſpecially one of them; Miftris Ford (good heart) is beaten blacke and blew, that you cannot fee a white ſpot about her.

Fal. What tellt thou mee of blacke, and blew? I was beaten my ſelfe into all the colours of the Rainebow: and I was like to be apprehended for the Witch of Braineford, but that my admirable dexteritie of wit, my counterfeiting the action of an old woman deliuer'd me, the knaue Conſtable had ſet me ith' Stocks, ith' common Stocks, for a Witch.

Qui, Sir: let me ſpeake with you in your Chamber, you shall heare how things goe, and (I warrant) to your content: here is a Letter will ſay, ſomewhat: (good hearts) what a-doe here is to bring you together? Sure, one of you do's not ſerue heauen well, that you are so croſſ'd.

Fal. Come vp into my Chamber.

Exeunt.

## Scena Sexta.

Enter Fenton, Hoff.

Hoff. Maſter Fenton, talke not to me, my minde is heavy: I will giue ouer all.

Fen. Yet heare me ſpeake: aſſiſt me in my purpose, And (as I am a gentleman) ile giue thee A hundred pound in gold, more then your loſſe.

Hoff. I will heare you (Maſter Fenton) and I will (at the leaſt) keepe your counſell.

Fen. From time to time, I haue acquainted you With the deare loue I beare to faire Anne Page, Who, mutually, haſt anſwer'd my affection, (So farre forth, as her ſelfe might be her chooſer) Euen to my wif; I haue a letter from her Of ſuch contents, as you will wonder at; The mirth whereof, so larded with my matter, That neither (fingly) can be maniſed Without the ſhow of both: fat Hoff, aſſiſe

Hath a great Scene; the image of the ieſt Ile ſhow you here at large (harke good mine Hoff): To night at Hernes-Okg, iuſt 'twixt twelue and one, Muſt my ſweet Nan preſent the Faerie-Qulene: The purpose why, is here: in which diſguſe VWhile other leſts are ſomething ranke on ſoote, Her father hath commanded her to ſlip Away with Slender, and with him, at Eaton

Immediately to Marry: She hath conſented: Now Sir, Her Mother, (euen ſtrong againſt that match And firme for Doctor Cains) hath appointed That he ſhall likewife ſhuffle her away, While other ſports are rasking of their minde, And at the Deaneuy, where a Priest attends Strait marry her: to this her Mothers plot She ſeemingly ſoberent likewife hath Made promife to the Doctor: Now, thus it reſts, Her Father meanes ſhe ſhall be all in white; And in that habit, when Slender fees his time To take her by the hand, and bid her goe, ſhe ſhall goe with him: her Mother hath intended (The better to deuote her to the Doctor) For they muſt all be mask'd, and vizarded)

That

58

The Merry Wives of Windsor.

That quaint in greene, she shall be loose en-roab'd,
With Ribonds-pendant, 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 giuen content to go with him.

Hoſt. Which meanes she to deceiue? Father, or Mo-
ther.

Fen. Both (my good Hoſt) to go along with me:
And heere it reſts, that you'll procure the Vicar
To ſtay for me at Church, 'twixt twelue, and one,'
And in the lawfull name of marrying,
To giue our hearts vnited ceremony.

Hoſſ. Well, husband your deuice; Ile to the Vicar,
Bring you the Maid, you shall not lacke a Prieſt.

Fen. So shall I evermore be bound to thee;
Besides, Ile make a preſent recompence.

Exeunt

Enter Falſoffie, Quickly, and Ford.

Fal. Pre'thee no more pratling : go, Ile hold, this is
the third time: I hope good lucke lies in odde numbers:
Away, go, they ſay there is Diuinity in odde Numbers,
either in nativity, chance, or death : away.

Lai. Ile prouide you a chaine, and Ile do what I can
to get you a paire of hornes.

Fall. Away I ſay, time weares, hold vp your head &
mince. How now M. Broome? Maſter Broome, the mat-
ter will be knowne to night, or neuer. Bee you in the
Parke about midnight, at Hermes-Oake, and you ſhall
ſee wonders.

Ford. Went you not to her yefterday (Sir) as you told
me you had appointed ?

Fal. I went to her (Maſter Broome) as you fee, like a
poore-old-man, but I came from her (Maſter Broome)
like a poore-old-woman; that fame knaue (Ford his huf-
band) hath the fineſt mad diuell of realouſe in him (Ma-
ſter Broome) that euer gouern'd Frenſie. I will tell you,
he beate me greeuouſly, in the ſhape of a woman: (for in
the ſhape of Man (Maſter Broome) I fear me) not Goliah
with a Weauers beame, because I know alſo, life is a
Shuttle. I am in haſt, go along with mee, Ile tell you all
(Maſter Broome:) ſince I pluckt Geefe, plaide Trewant,
and whipt Top, I knew not what 'twas to be beaten, till
lately. Follow mee, Ile tell you ſtrange things of this
knaue Ford, on whom to night I will be reuenged, and I
will deliuer his wife into your hand. Follow, ſtraunge
things in hand (M. Broome) follow.

Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Page, Shallow, Slender.

Page. Come, come: we'll couch i'th Cattle-ditch,
till we fee the light of our Fairies. Remember ſon Slen-
der, my

Slen. I forſooth, I haue ſpoke with her, & we haue
a nay-word, how to know one another. I come to her
in white, and cry Mum; she cries Budget, and by that

we know one another.

Shal. That's good too: But what needes either your
Mum, or her Budget? The white will decipher her well
enough. It hath brooke ten a'clocke.

Page. The night is darke, Light and Spirits will be-
come it wel: Heauen proſper our ſport. No man means
cuill but the deuill, and we ſhal know him by his hornes.
Lets away: follow me.

Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Miff. Page, Miff. Ford, Cains.

Miff. Page. Mr Doctor, my daughter is in green, when
you fee your time, take her by the hand, away with her
to the Deanerie, and dispatch it quickly: go before into
the Parke: we two muſt go together.

Cai. I know vat I haue to do, adieu.

Miff. Page. Fare you well (Sir:) my husband will not
reioyce ſo much at the abuse of Falſaffe, as he will chafe
at the Doctors matrying my daughter: But 'tis no mat-
ter; better a little chiding, then a great deale of heart-
breake.

Miff. Ford. Where is Nan now? and her troop of Fairies?
and the Welch-deuill Herne?

Miff. Page. They are all couch'd in a pit hard by Hermes
Oake, with obſcur'd Lights; which at the very inſant
of Falſaffers and our meeting, they will at once diſplay to
the night.

Miff. Ford. That cannot choose but amaze him.

Miff. Page. If he be not amaz'd he will be mock'd: If
he be amaz'd, he will euery way be mock'd.

Miff. Ford. Wee'll betray him finely.

Miff. Page. Againſt which Lewdſters, and their lechery,
Thofe that betray them, do no treachery.

Miff. Ford. The houre drawes-on: to the Oake, to the
Oake.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Evans and Fairies.

Evans. Trib, trib Fairies: Come, and remember your
parts: be pold (I pray you) follow me into the pit, and
when I giue the watch-ords, do as I pid you : Come,
come, trib,trib.

## Scena Quinta.

Enter Falſaffe, Miffris Page, Miffris Ford, Evans,
Anne Page, Fairies, Page, Ford, Quickly,
Slender, Fenton, Cains, Pistoff.

Fal. The Windsor-bell hath ſtroke twelue: the Mi-
nute drawes-on: Now the hot-bloodied-Gods affiſt me:
Remember Ioue, thou was't a Bull for thy Europa, Loue
ſet on thy hornes. O powerfull Loue, that in ſome re-
ſpects makes a Beaſt a Man: in ſom other, a Man a beaſt.
You were alſo (Iupiter) a Swan, for the loue of Leda: O
omnispotent

The Merry Wines of Windsor.

51

omnipotent Loue, how nere the God drew to the complexion of a Goose: a fault done first in the forme of a beaſt, (O Loue, a beaſtly fault:) and then another fault, in the ſembance of a Fowle, thinke on't (Loue) a fowle-fault. When Gods haue hot backes, what ſhall poore men do? For me, I am heere a Windsor Stagge, and the fatſet (I thinke) i'th Forreſt. Send me a coole rut-time (Loue) or who can blame me to piffe my Tallow? Who comes heere to my Doc?

M. Ford. Sir John? Art thou there (my Deere)?

My male-Deere?

Fal. My Doe, with the blacke Scut ? Let the skie raine Potatoes: let it thunder, to the tune of Greene-fleeues, haile-kiffing Conſits, and ſnow Eringoes: Let there come a tempeſt of prouocation, I will ſhelter mee heere.

M. Ford. Miftris Page is come with me(fweet hart.)

Fal. Duide me like a brib'd-Bucke, each a Haunch: I will keepe my ſides to my ſelſe, my ſhoulders for the fellow of this walke ; and my hornes I bequeath you your husbands. Am I a Woodman, ha? Speake I like Herne the Hunter ? Why, now is Cupid a child of confidence, he makes reſtitution. As I am a true ſpirit, welcome.

M. Page. Alas, what noife?

M. Ford. Heauen forgive our finnes.

Fal. What should this be?

M. Ford, M. Page. Away, away.

Fal. I thinke the duell will not haue me damn'd, Leaſt the oyle that's in me should fet hell on fire; He would neuer eſſe croſſe me thus.

Enter Faſtires.

Qui. Fairies blacke, gray, greene, and white,' You Moone ſhine reuellers, and ſhades of night. You Orphan heires of fixed deſtiny, Attend your office, and your quality.

Crier Hob-goblyn, make the Fairies Oyes.

Pift. Elues, lift your names: Silence you aiery toyes. Cricket, to Windsor-chimneys ſhalt thou leape; Where fires thou find'ft vrnak'd, and hearths vnſwept, There pinch the Maids as blew as Bill-berry, Our radiant Queene, hates Sluts, and Sluttery.

Fal. They are Fairies, he that speaks to them must die, Ile winke, and couch : No man their workes muſt eie.

Eu. Wher's Bede? Go you, and where you find a maid That ere she ſleepe has thrice her prayers ſaid, Raife vp the Organs of her ſantafie.

Sleepe ſhe as found as careſſe ſinfanie, But thofe as ſleepe, and thinke not on their fins,

Pinch them armes, legs, backes, shoulders, ſides, & ſhins.

Qu. About, about: Search Windfor-chyle (Elues) within, and out.

Strew good lucke (Ouphes) on every ſacred roome, That it may ſtand till the perpetuall doome, In flate as wholſome, as in flate'tis fit, Worthy the Owner, and the Owner it.

The ſeuerall Chaires of Order, looke you ſcowre. With iuyce of Balme; and every precious flowre, Each faire Inſtalment, Coate, and ſeu'rall Creſt, With loyall Blazon, euermore be bleſt.

And Nightly-meadow-Fairies, looke you ſing

Like to the Garters-Compaſſe, in a ring, That expreſſure that it beares: Greene let it be, Mot ſertile ſrefresh then all the Field to ſee:

And, Hony Soit Qui Mal-y-Pence, write In Emrold-tuffes, Flowres purple, blew, and white, Like Saphire-pearle, and rich embroiderie,

Buckled below faire Knight-hoods bending knee; Fairies vſe Flowres for their charaſterie.

Away, diſperſe: But till't is one a clocke, Our Dance of Cuſtome, round about the Oke

Of Herne the Hunter, let vs not forget. (ſer:

Euam. Pray you lock hand in hand: your ſelues in order And twenty glow-wormes ſhall our Lanthornes bee To guide our Meaſure round about the Tree. But ſtay, I ſmell a man of middle earth.

Fal. Heauens defend me from that Welſh Fairy, Leaſt he transforme me to a peecce of Cheeſe.

Pift. Vilde worme, thou waſt ore-look'd euen in thy birth.

Qu. With Triall-fire touch me his finger end: If he be chaſte, the flame will backe defend

And turne him to no paine: but if he ſtart,

It is the ſleſh of a corrupted hart.

Pift. A triall, come.

Euam. Come: will this wood take fire?

Fal. Oh, oh, oh.

Qui. Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in deſire.

About him (Fairies) ſing a cornſon rime,

And as you trip, ſtill pinch him to your time.

The Song.

Fie on finneſſuall phantaſie: Fie on Luft, and'Luxurie:

Luſt is but a bloudy fire, kindled with vnchaſte deſire,

Fed in heart whose flames alſure,

As thoughts do blow them higher and higher.

Pinch him (Fairies) mutually: Pinch him for his villanie.

Pinch hims, and burne hims, and turne him about,

Till Candles, & Star-light, & Moone-shine be out.

Page. Nay do not flye, I thinke we haue watcht you now: VVill none but Herne the Hunter ſerue your turne?

M. Page. I pray you come, hold vp the ieſt no higher. Now (good Sir John) how like you Windsor wuies?

See you theſe husband ? Do not theſe faire yoakes

Become the Forreſt better then the Towne?

Ford. Now Sir, whoſe a Cuckold now?

M. Broome, Falſtaffes a Knaue, a Cuckoldly knaue, Heere are his hornes Maſter Broome:

And Maſter Broome, he hath enjoyed nothing of Fords, but his Buck-basket, his cudgell, and twenty pounds of money, which muſt be paid to M. Broome, his horſes are arreſted for it, M. Broome.

Ad. Ford. Sir John, we haue had ill lucke: wee could neuer meete: I will neuer take you for my Loue; againe, but I will alwayse count you my Deere.

Fal. I do begin to perceiue that I am made an Aſſe.

Ford. I, and an Oxe too: both the proofes are ex-
tant.

Fal. And theſe are not Fairies:

I was three or ſoure times in the thought they were not Fairies, and yet the guiltineſſe of my minde, the ſodaine ſurprize of my powers, droue the groſſenſe of the popery into a receiu'd beeleſe, in deſpight of the teeth of all rime and reaſon, that they were Fairies. See now how wit may be made a Iacke-a-Lent, when't is vpon ill employment.

Euam. Sir John Falſtaffe, ſerue Got, and leaue your deſites, and Fairies will not pinſe you.

Ford. VVell said Fairy Hugh.

Euam. And leaue you your icalauzies too, I pray you.

Ford.

The Merry Wines of Windsor.

Ford. I will neuer misfrust my wife againe, till thou art able to woo her in good English.

Fal. Haue I laid my braine in the Sun, and dri'd it, that it wants matter to preuent so groſſe ore-reaching as this? Am I ridden with a Welch Goate too? Shal I haue a Coxcombe of Frize? Tis time I were choak'd with a piece of toasted Cheefe.

En. Seeſe is not good to giue putter; your belly is al putter.

Fal. Seeſe, and Putter? Haue I liu'd to ſtand at the taunt of one that makes Fritters of English? This is enough to be the decay of luft and late-walking through the Realme.

Mift. Page. Why Sir John, do you thinke though wee would haue thrust vertue out of our hearts by the head and shoulders, and haue giuen our ſelues without lernure to hell, that euer the deuill could haue made you our delight?

Ford. What, a hodge-pudding? A bag of flax?

Mift. Page. A puſt man?

Page. Old, cold, wither'd, and of intollerable en-traines?

Ford. And one that is as flanderous as Sathan?

Page. And as poore as Iob?

Ford. And as wick'd as his wife?

Euan. And giuen to Fornications, and to Tauernes, and Sacke, and Wine, and Metheglinias, and to drinkinges and ſwearings, and ſtarings? Pribles and prables?

Fal. Well, I am your Theame: you haue the start of me, I am deieſted: I am not able to anſwer the Welch Flannell, Ignorance it ſelfe is a plummet ore me, vſe me as you will.

Ford. Marry Sir, wee'l bring you to Windſor to one Mr. Broome, that you haue cozon'd of money, to whom you should haue bin a Pander: ouer and aboue that you haue ſuffer'd, I thinke, to repay that money will be a bi-ting aſſlacion.

Page. Yet be cheerefull Knight: thou ſhalt eat a poſſet to night at my houſe, when I will deſire thee to laugh at my wife, that now laughes at thee: Tell her Mr. Slender hath married her daughter.

Mift. Page. Doctors doubt that: I am If Anne Page be my daughter, ſhe is (by this) Doctor Cains wife.

Slen. Whoa hoe, hoe, Father Page.

Page. Sonne? How now? How now Sonne, Haue you dispatch'd?

Slen. Dispatch'd? Ile make the beſt in Gloſterſhire know on't: would I were hang'd la, eſſe:

Page. Of what ſonne?

Slen. I came yonder at Eaton to marry Miftris Anne Page, and ſhe's a great lubberly boy. If it had not bene i'th Church, I would haue ſwing'd him, or hee should haue ſwing'd me. If I did not thinke it had beene Anne Page, would I might neuer ſtirre, and tis a Poſt-maſters Boy.

Page. Upon my life then, you tooke the wrong.

Slen. What neede you tell me that? I think to, when I tooke a Boy for a Girle: If I had bene married to him, (for all he was in womans apparrell) I would not have had him.

Page. Why this is your owne folly, Did not I tell you how you should know my daughter, By her garments?

Slen. I went to her in greene, and cried Mum, and ſhe cride budget, as Anne and I had appointed, and yet it was not Anne, but a Poſt-maſters boy.

Mift. Page. Good George be not angry, I knew of your purpose: turn'd my daughter into white, and in-deede ſhe is now with the Doctor at the Deanrie, and there married.

Cai. Ver is Miftris Page: by gar I am cozoned, Iha married oon Garfoon, a boy; oon pefant, by gar. A boy, it is not An Page, by gar, I am cozoned.

M. Page. VVhy? did you take her in white ?

Cai. I bee gar, and tis a boy: be gar, Ile raife all Windſor.

Ford. This is ſtrange: Who hath got the right Anne?

Page. My heart miſgives me, here comes Mr. Fenton.

How now Mr. Fenton?

Anne. Pardon good father, good my mother pardon

Page. Now Miftris:

How chance you went not with Mr. Slender?

M. Page. Why went you not with Mr. Doctor, maid?

Fen. You do amaze her: heare the truth of it, You would haue married her moſt shamefully, Where there was no proportion held in loue: The truth is, ſhe and I (long ſince contracſed) Are now ſo ſure that nothing can diſſolue vs: The ſoffence is holy, that ſhe hath committed, And this deceit loofes the name of craft, Of diſobedience, or vnduteous title, Since therein ſhe doth euitate and ſhun A thousand irreligious cursed hours

Which forced marriage would haue brought upon her.

Ford. Stand not amaz'd; here is no remedy:

In Loue, the heauens themselves do guide the state, Money buyes Lands, and wuies are ſold by fate.

Fal. I am glad, though you haue tane a ſpecial ſtand to ſtrike at me, that your Arrow hath glanc'd.

Page. Well, what remedy? Fenton, heauen giue thee ioy, what cannot be eſchew'd, muſt be embrac'd.

Fal. When night-dogges run, all forts of Deere are chac'd.

Mift. Page. Well, I will imſue no further: Mr. Fenton, Heauen giue you many, many merry dayes: Good husband, let vs every one go home, And laugh this sport ore by a Countrie fire, Sir John and all.

Ford. Let it be so (Sir John): To Maſter Broome, you yet shall hold your word, For he, to night, ſhall lye with Miftris Ford: Exten,

FINIS.

MEASVRE,
For Meaure.

*Actus primus, Scena prima.*

Enter Duke, Escalus, Lords.

Duke.

Scaltes.

Eſc. My Lord.

(fold,

Duk. Of Gouernment, the properties to va-
Would feeme in me t'aſſect ſpeech & diſcoursè,
Since I am put to know, that your owne Science
Exceedes (in that) the lifts of all aduice

My ſtrength can giue you: Then no more remaines
But that, to your ſufficiency, as your worth is able,
And let them worke: The nature of our People,
Our Cities Inſtitutions, and the Termes
For Common Inſtuffe, are as pregnant in
As Art, and præſtise, hath inriech'd any

That we remember : There is our Commission,
From which, we would not haue you warped; call hither,
I say, bid come before vs Angelo :

What figure of vs thinke you, he will beare.

For you muſt know, we haue with ſpeciall ſoule

Elected him our abſence to ſupply ;

Lent him our terror, dreſt him with our loue,

And giuen his Deputation all the Organs.

Of our owne powre: What thinke you of it?

Eſc. If any in Vienna be of worth

To undergoe ſuch ample grace, and honour,

It is Lord Angelo.

Enter Angelo.

Duk. Looke where he comes.

Ang. Alwayes obedient to your Graces will,
I come to know your pleasure.

Duke. Angelo :

There is a kinde of Character in thy life,
That to th'obſeruer, doth thy hiftory

Fully vnfold: Thy ſelfe, and thy belonging's
Are not thine owne ſo proper, as to waſte

Thy ſelfe vpon thy vertues; they on thee :
Heauen doth with vs, as we, with Torches doe,

Not light them for themſelues: For if our vertues

Did not goe forth of vs, 'twere all alike

As if we had them not: Spirits are not finely touch'd,

But to fine iffues: nor nature neuer lends

The ſmallest ſcruple of her excellence,

But like a thrifty goddeſſe, the determines

Her ſelfe the glory of a creditour,

Both thanks, and vse; but I do bend my ſpeech

To one that can my part in him aduertife ;

Hold therefore Angelo :

In our remoue, be thou at full, our ſelfe :

Mortallitie and Mercie in Vienna

Lie in thy tongue, and heart : Old Eſcalia

Though first in quention, is thy ſecondary.

Take thy Commission.

Ang. Now good my Lord

Let there be ſome more teſt, made of my mettle,

Before ſo noble, and ſo great a figure

Be ſtamp't vpon it.

Duk. No more euafion :

We haue with a leauen'd, and prepared choice

Proceeded to you; therefore take your honours :

Our haſte from hence is of ſo quicke condition,

That it prefers it ſelfe, and leaves vnqueſtion'd

Matters of needfull value: We ſhall write to you

As time, and our concernings ſhall importune,

How it goes with vs, and doe looke to know

What doth befall you here. So fare you well :

To th' hopefull execution doe I leaue you,

Of your Commissions,

Ang. Yet giue leaue (my Lord.)

That we may bring you ſomething on the way.

Duk. My haſte may not admit it,

Nor neede you (on mine honor) haue to doe

With any ſcruple: your ſcope is as mine owne,

So to inſorce, or qualifie the Lawes

As to your ſoule ſeesme good: Giue me your hand,
Ile priuily away: I loue the people,

But doe not like to ſlage me to their eyes :

Though it doe well, I doe not rellifh well

Their lowd applaſe, and Aues vehement:

Nor doe I thinke the man of ſafe diſeretion

That do's affect it. Once more fare you well.

Ang. The heauens giue safety to your purpofes.

Eſc. Lead forth, and bring you backe in happi-
neſſe.
Duk. I thanke you, fare you well.
Exiſt.

Eſc. I ſhall deſire you, Sir, to giue me leaue

To haue free ſpeech with you ; and it concernes me

To looke into the bottome of my place:

A powre I haue, but of what ſtrength and nature,

I am not yet inſtructed.

Ang. 'Tis ſo with me: Let vs with-draw together,

And we may ſoone our ſatisfaction haue

Touching that point.

Eſc. Ile wait vpon your honor.

F

Exenunt.

Scena

62.

Measure for Measure.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Lucio, and two other Gentlemen.

Luc. If the Duke, with the other Dukes, come not to composition with the King of Hungary, why then all the Dukes fall vpon the King.

1. Gent. Heauen grant vs its peace, but not the King of Hungaries.

2. Gent. Amen.

Luc. Thou conclud'st like the Sanctimonious Pirat, that went to sea with the ten Commandements, but scrap'd one out of the Table.

2. Gent. Thou halt not Steale?

Luc. I, that he raz'd.

1. Gent. Why? 'twas a commandement, to command the Captaine and all the rest from their functions: they put forth to steale: There's not a Souldier of vs all, that in the thank-giuing before meate, do rallish the petition well, that praires for peace.

2. Gent. I neuer heard any Souldier dislike it.

Luc. I beleeue thee: for I thinke thou neuer was't where Grace was laid.

2. Gent. No? a dozen times at least.

1. Gent. What? In meeter?

Luc. In any proportion: or in any language.

1. Gent. I thinke, or in any Religion.

Luc. I, why not? Grace, is Grace, despight of all controulerie: as for example; Thou thy selfe art a wicked villaine, despight of all Grace.

1. Gent. Well: there went but a paire of sheeres betweene vs.

Luc. I grant: as there may betweene the Lifts, and the Veluet. Thou art the Lift.

1. Gent. And thou the Veluet; thou art good veluer; thou'rt a three pild-peece I warrant thee: I had a liefe be a Lyft of an English Kerley, as be pil'd, as thou art pil'd, for a French Veluet. Do I speake feelingly now?

Luc. I thinke thou do'st: and indeed with moft painfull feeling of thy speech: I will, out of thine owne confession, learne to begin thy health; but, whilst I liue forget to drinke after thee.

1. Gen. I think I haue done my selfe wrong, haue I not?

2. Gent. Yes, that thou haſt; whether thou art tainted, or free.

Enter Bawde.

Luc. Behold, behold, where Madam Mitigation comes. I haue purchase'd as many dieales vnder her Roofe, As come to

2. Gent. To what, I pray?

Luc. Iudge.

2. Gent. To three thoufand Dollours a yeare.

1. Gent. I, and more.

Luc. A French crowne more.

1. Gent. Thou art alwayse figuring dieales in me; but thou art full of error, I am found.

Luc. Nay, not (as one would fay) healthy: but so found, as things that are hollow; thy bones are hollow; Impiety has made a feast of thee.

1. Gent. How now, which of your hips has the moſt profound Ciatia?

Bawd. Well, well: there's one yonder arreſted, and carried to prifon, was worth ſiue thouſand of you all.

2. Gent. Who's that I pray'thee?

Bawd. Marry Sir, that's Claudio, Signior Claudio.

1. Gent. Claudio to prifon? '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 daies his head to be chop'd off.

Luc. But, after all this fooling, I would not haue it so: Art thou ſure of this?

Bawd. I am too ſure of it: and it is for getting Madam Iulietta with childe.

Luc. Beleeue me this may be: he promis'd to meete me two howres ſince, and he was euer precife in promife keeping.

2. Gent. Besides you know, it drawes something neere to the speech we had to ſuch a purpofe.

1. Gent. But moſt of all agreeing with the proclamatio. Luc. Away: let's goe learne the truth of it. Exit.

Bawd. Thus, what with the war; what with the ſweat, what with the gallowes, and what with pouerty, I am Cufom-shrunke. How now ? what's the newes with you. Enter Clowne.

Clo. Yonder man is carried to prifon.

Baw. Well: what has he done?

Clo. A Woman.

Baw. But what's his offence?

Clo. Groping for Trowts, in a peculiar Ruer.

Baw. What? is there a maid with child by him?

Clo. No: but there's a woman with maid by him: you haue not heard of the proclamation, haue you?

Baw. What proclamation, man?

Clow. All howſes in the Suburbs of Vienna muſt bee pluck'd downe.

Bawd. And what ſhall become of thofe in the Citie?

Clow. They ſhall ſtand for feed: they had gon down to, but that a wife Burger put in for them.

Bawd. But ſhall all our houſes of refort in the Suburbs be puld downe?

Clow. To the ground, Miftris.

Bawd. Why heere's a change indeed in the Commonwealth: what ſhall become of me?

Clow. Come: feare not you: good Counſellors lacke no Clients: though you change your place, you neede not change your Trade: Ile bee your Tapfter ſtill; courage, there will bee pity taken on you; you that haue worne your eyes almoſt out in the ſeruice, you will bee confidered.

Bawd. What's to doe heere, Thomas Tapfter ? let's withdraw?

Clo. Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the Prouſon to prifon: and there's Madam Iuliet. Exennt.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Prouſon, Claudio, Iuliet, Officers, Lucio &c.

Cla. Fellow, why doſt thou ſhow me thus to th'world? Beare me to prifon, where I am committed.

Pro. I do it not in euill diſpoſition, But from Lord Angelo by ſpeciall charge.

Clau. Thus can the demy-god (Authority) Make vs pay downe, for our offence, by waight The words of heauen: on whom it will, it will, On whom it will not (foe) yet ſtill 'tis iſt.

(ſtraint.)

Lue. Why how now Claudio ? whence comes this reſt? Clau. From too much liberty, (my Lucio) Liberty As ſurſet is the father of much ſaſt, So every Scope by the immoderate ſe

Turnes to reſtrain: Our Natures doe purſue

Like

Meaſure for Meaſure.

63

Like Rats that rauny downe their proper Bane,
A thirty eulld, and when we drinke; we die.

Luc. If I could ſpeake so wifely vnder an arreſt, I would ſend for certaine of my Creditors: and yet, to ſay the truth, I had as lief haue the fopperry of freedome, as the mortality of imprisonment: what's thy offence, Claudio ?

Cla. What (but to ſpeake of) would offend againe.

Luc. What, is't murder?

Cla. No.

Luc. Lecherie ?

Cla. Call it so:

Pro. Away, Sir, you muſt goe.

Cla. One word, good friend:

Lucio, a word with you,

Luc. A hundred :

If they'll doe you any good: Is Lechery so look'd after ?

Cla. Thus stands it with me: vpon a true contract
I got poſſection of Julietts bed,
You know the Lady, (she is faſt my wife,

Sae that we doe the denunciation lacke

Of outward Order. This we came not to toy.

Onely for propagation of a Dowre

Remaining in the Coffer of her friends,

From whom we thought it meet to hide our Loue

Till Time had made them for vs. But it chances

The fealth of our moſt mutuall entertainment

With Charaſter of rod groſſe, is ſ written on Iuliet.

Luc. With childe, perhaps ?

Cla. Vnhappely, euen so,

And the new Deputie, now for the Duke,

Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newnes,

Or whether that the body publique, be

A horſe whereon the Gouernor doth ride,

Who newly in the Scate, that it may know

He can command, lets it ſtraight feele the ſpur

Whether the Tirranny be in his place,

Or in his Eminence that fills it up

I ſtager in: but this new Gouernor

Awakes me all the inrolled penalties

Which haue (like vn-coward Armor) hung by th' wall

So long, that ninteene Zodiacs haue gone round,

And none of them beeuen worne; and for a name

Now puts the drowſe and neglected Act

Freshly on me: 'tis further for a name.

Luc. I warrant it: And thy head stands for tickle on thy shoulders, that a milke-maid, if she be in loue, may fight it off: Send after the Duke, and appeale to him.

Cla. I haue done so, but hee's not to be found.

I pre'th'eec (Lucio) doe me this kinde ſervic'e :

This day, my ſifter should the Cloy ſter enter,

And there receiue her approbation.

Acquaint her with the danger of my ſtate, and I

Implore her, in my voice, that she make friends

To the strict deputie: bid her ſelſe ſay him,

I haue great hope in that: for in her youth

There is a prone and ſpeechleſſe dialect,

Such as mone men: beſide, she hath proſperous Art

When she will play with reaſon, and diſcourse,

And well she can perſwade, as well as I,

Luc. I pray thee may; as well for the encouragement of the like, which also would ſtand vnder greene impoſition: as for the enioying of thy life, who I would be forry should bee thus ſolſibly loſt, at a game of ticktacke: Ile to her.

Cla. I thanke you good friend, Lucio, if

Luc. Within two hours.

Cla. Come Officer, away.

Exenunt.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Duke and Frier Thomas.

Duk. No: holy Father, throw away that thought,
Beleeue not that the dribling dart of Loue

Can pierce a compleat boſome: why, I deſire thee

To give me ſecret harbour, hath a purpofe

More graue, and wrinkled, then the aimes, and ends

Of burning youth.

Fri. May your Grace ſpeake of it?

Duk. My holy Sir, none better knowes then you

How I haue euer lou'd the life remoued

And held in idle price, to haunt afflebilities

Where youth, and coſt, witleſſe brauerie keepes.

I haue deliuer'd to Lord Angelo

(A man of ſtricture and firme abſtinence)

My abſolute power, and place here in Vienna,

And he ſuppofes me trauaide to Poland,

(For so I haue ſtrew'd in the common eare)

And for it is recei'u'd: Now (pious Sir)

You will demand of me, why I do this.

Fri. Gladly, my Lord.

Duk. We haue ſtrict Statutes, and moſt biting Laws,
(The needfull bits and curbes to headſtrong wedees.)

Which for this fourteene yeares, we haue iet ſlip,

Euen like an ore-growne Lyon in a Caue.

That goes not out to prey: Now, as fond Fathers,

Hauing bound vp the threatening twigs of birch,

Onely to ſticke it in their childrens fight,

For terror, not to vſe: in time the rod

More mock'd, then fea'd: for our Decrees,

Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead,

And libertie, plucks Juitice by the noſe,

The Baby beates the Nurſe, and quite aſtward

Goes all decorum.

Fri. It reſted in your Grace

To vnloofe this tyde-vp Juitice, when you pleaf'd:

And it in you more dreadfull would haue ſeem'd

Then in Lord Angelo.

Duk. I do ſeare: too dreadfull :

Sith 'twas my fault, to giue the people ſcope,

'T would be my tirranny to ſtrike and gall them.

For what I bid them doe: For, we bid this be done

When euill deedes haue their permittive paſſe,

And not the puniſhment: therefore indeede (my father)

I haue on Angelo impos'd the office.

Who may in th'ambush of my name, ſtrike home,

And yet, my nature never in the fight

To do in flander: And to behold his ſway

I will, as were a brother of your Order,

Visit both Prince, and People: Therefore I pre'th'eec

Supply me with the habit, and inſtruct me

How I may formally in perſon beare

Like a true Frier: Moe reaſons for this action

At our more leyſure, ſhall I render you:

Onely, this one: Lord Angelo is precife,

Stands at a guard with Enuie: ſcarene confefles

That his blood flowes: or that his appetite

Is more to bread then ſtone: hence ſhall we fee

If power change purpose: what our Seemers be.

Exit.

Scena

F 2

64

Meaſure for Meaſure.

## Scena Quinta.

Enter Isabell and Francisca a Nun.

Isa. And haue you Nuns no farther priuiledges?
Nun. Are not these large enough?
Isa. Yes truly; I speake not as defining more,
But rather wifing a more strict restraint
Vpon the Sifterdood, the Votarifts of Saint Clare,
Lucio within.

Luc. Hoa? peace be in this place.

Isa: Who's that which cals?

Nun. It is a man's voice: gentle Isabella

Turne you the key, and know his businesſe of him;
You may; I may not: you are yet vnſworne:
When you haue vowd, you muſt not ſpeake with men,
But in the prefence of the Prioreſſe ;
Then if you ſpeake, you muſt not ſhow your face;
Or if you ſhow your face, you muſt not ſpeake:
He cals againe: I pray you anſwere him.

Isa. Peace and prosperitie: who is't that cals?

Luc. Haile Virgin, (if you be) as thofe cheeke-Roſes
Proclaime you are no leſſe: can you ſo feed me,
As bring me to the fight of Isabella,
A Nauice of this place, and the faire Sifter
To her vnhappie brother Claudio?

Isa. Why her vnhappy Brother? Let me aske,
The rather for I now muſt make you know
I am that Isabella, and his Sifter.

Luc. Gentle & faire: your Brother kindly greets you;
Not to be weary with you, he's in prifon.

Isa. Woe me; for what?

Luc. For that, which if my ſelfe might be his Judge,
He should receiue his puniſhment, in thanks :
He hath got his friend with childe.

Isa. Sir, make me not your ſlorie.

Luc. 'Tis true; I would not, though 'tis my familiar ſin,
With Maids to ſeeme the Lapwing, and to ieſt
Tongue, far from heart: play with all Virgins ſo:
I hold you as a thing en-skied, and ſainted,
By your renouncement, an imortall ſpirit
And to be talk'd with in ſincerity,
As with a Saint.

Isa. You doe blapheme the good, in mocking me.

Luc. Doe not beleeue it: fewnes, and truth; tis thus,
Your brother, and his louer haue embrac'd;
As thofe that feed, grow full as bloſsoming Time
That from the feednes, the bare fallow brings
To ceeming foſon, euen ſo her plenteous wombe
Expreſſeth his full Tilth, and husbandry.

Isa. Some one with childe by him? my cosen Julier?

Luc. Is ſhe your cosen?

Isa. Adoptedly, as schoole-maids change their names
By vaine, though apt affection.

Luc. She it is.

Isa. Oh, let him marry her.

Luc. This is the point.

The Duke is very strangely gone from hence;

Bore many gentlemen (my ſelfe being one)

In hand, and hope of action: but we doe learne,
By thofe that know the very Nerues of State,
His giuing-out, were of an infinite diſtance

From his true meant defigne: vpon his place,

(And with full line of his authority)

Gouernes Lord Angelo; A man, whose blood
Is very snow-broth: one, who neuer feeles
The wanton ſtings, and motions of the ſence;
But doth rebate, and blunt his naturall edge
With profits of the minde: Studie, and faſt
He (to giue feare to vſe, and libertie,
Which haue, for long, run, by the hideous law,
As Myce, by Lyons) hath pickt out an aſt,
Vnder whole heavy ſence, your brothers life
Fals into forfeit: he arreſts him on it,
And followes close the rigor of the Statute
To make him an example: all hope is gone,
Vnleſſe you haue the grace, by your faire prauer
To soften Angelo: And that's my pith of businesſe
'Twixt you, and your poore brother.

Isa. Doth he ſo,
Seeke his life?

Luc. Has cenſur'd him already,
And as I heare, the Prouoſt hath a warrant
For's execution.

Isa. Alas: what poore

Abilitie's in me, to doe him good

Luc. Aſſay the powre you haue.

Isa. My power? alas, I doubt.

Luc. Our doubts are traitors

And makes vs looke the good we oft might win,

By fearing to attempt: Goe to Lord Angelo

And let him learne to know, when Maidens ſue

Men giue like gods: but when they weepe and kneele,

All their petitions, are as freely theirs

As they themselves would owe them.

Isa. Ile fee what I can doe.

Luc. But ſpeedily.

Isa. I will about it ſtrait;

No longer ſtaying, but to giue the Mother

Notice of my affaire: I humbly thanke you :

Commend me to my brother: ſoone at night

Ile ſend him certaine word of my ſuccesſe.

Luc. I take my leaue of you.

Isa. Good fir, adieu.

Exeunt.

## Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima.

Enter Angelo, Escalus, and ſermants, Iuſſice.

Ang. We muſt not make a ſcar-crow of the Law,
Setting it vp to ſeare the Birds of prey,

And let it keepe one ſhape, till cuſtome make it

Their pearch, and not their terror.

Eſc. I, but yet

Let vs be keene, and rather cut a little

Then fall, and bruife to death: alas, this geuſteman

Whom I would faue, had a moſt noble father,

Let but your honour know

(Whom I beleeue to be moſt ſtrait in vertue)

That in the working of your owne affections,

Had time coheard with Place, or place with wifhing,

Or that the refolute acting of our blood

Could haue attraind the effect of your owne purpose,

Whether you had not ſometime in your life

Er'd in this point, which now you cenſure him,

And puld the Law vpon you.

Ang. 'Tis one thing to be tempted (Eſcalus)

Another

Meaſure for Meaſure.

65

Another thing to fall: I not deny

The Iury paffing on the Pritoners life

May in the ſworne-twelue haue a thiefe, or two

Guiltier then him they try; what's open made to Iuſtice,
That Iuſtice ceizes; What knowes the Lawes

That theuees do paffe on theuees? 'Tis very pregnant,

The Iewell that we finde, we ſtoope, and take't,

Because we fee it; but what we doe nor fee,

We tread upon, and neuer thinke of it.

You may not ſo extenuate his offence,

For I haue had ſuch faults; but rather tell me

When I, that cenſure him, do ſo offend,

Let mine owne Iudgement patterne out my death,

And nothing come in partnall. Sir, he must dye.

Enter Prouſon.

Eſc. Be it as your wifedome will.

Ang. Where is the Prouſon?

Pro. Here if it like your honour.

Ang. See that Claudio

Be executed by nine to morrow morning,

Bring him his Confessor, let him be prepared,

For that's the vtmoſt of his pilgrimage.

Eſc. Well: heauen forgiue him; and forgiue vs all:
Some rife by ſirne, and ſome by vertue fall:

Some run from brakes of Ice, and anſwere none,

And ſome condemned for a fault alone.

Enter Elbow, Froth, Clowne, Officers.

Elb. Come, bring them away: if there be good people in a Common-weale, that doe nothing but vse their abufes in common houſes, I know no law: bring them away.

Ang. How now Sir, what's your name? And what's the matter?

Elb. If it pleafe your honour, I am the poore Dukes Conſtable, and my name is Elbow; I doe leane vpon Iuſtice Sir, and doe bring in here before your good honour, two notoriouſ Benefactors.

Ang. Benefactors? Well: What Benefactors are they?
Are they not Male Factors?

Elb. If it pleafe your honour, I know not well what they are: But precife villaines they are, that I am ſure of: and void of all prophanation in the world, that good Chriſtians ought to haue.

Eſc. This comes off well: here's a wife Officer.

Ang. Go to: What quality are they of? Elbow is your name?

Why doſt thou not ſpeake Elbow?

Clo. He cannot Sir: he's out at Elbow.

Ang. What are you Sir?

Elb. He Sir: a Tapſter Sir: parcell Baud: one that ſerues a bad woman: whose ſhouse Sir was (as they ſay) pluckt downe in the Suborbs: and now ſhee proſeffes a hot-houſe; Which, I thinke is a very ill houſe too.

Eſc. How know you that?

Elb. My wife Sir? whom I deteft before heauen, and your honour.

Eſc. How? thy wife?

Elb. I Sir: whom I thanke heauen is an honest woman.

Eſc. Do't thou deteft her therefore?

Elb. I ſay fir, I will deteft my ſelfe alſo, as well as ſhe, that this houſe, if it be not a Bauds houſe, it is pity of her life, for it is a naughtie houſe.

Eſc. How do't thou know that, Conſtable?

Elb. Marry fir, by my wife, who, if ſhe had bin a woman Cardinally giuen, might haue bin accus'd in forni-

cation, adultery, and all vncleanlineſe there.

Eſc. By the womans means?

Elb. I fir, by Miftris Ouer-dons means: but as the ſpit in his face, ſo the defide him.

Clo. Sir, if it pleafe your honor, this is not ſo.

Elb. Proue it before the ſvarlets here, thou honourable man, proue it.

Eſc. Doe you heare how he miſplaces?

Clo. Sir, the came in great with childe: and longing (fauing your honors reverence) for ſtewd prewyns; fir, we had but two in the houſe, which at that very diſtant time ſlood, as it were in a fruit diſh (a diſh of ſome three pence; your honours haue ſeenie ſuch diſhes) they are not China-diſhes, but very good diſhes.

Eſc. Go too: go too: no matter for the diſh fir.

Clo. No indeede fir not of a pin; you are therein in the right: but, to the point: As I ſay, this Miftris Elbow, being (as I ſay) with childe, and being great bellied, and longing (as I laid) for prewyns: and hauing but two in the diſh (as I laid) Maſter Froth here, this very man, hauing eaten the reſt (as I laid) & (as I ſay) paying for them very honetely: for, as you know Maſter Froth, I could not giue you three pence againe.

Fro. No indeede.

Clo. Very well: you being then (if you be remembered) cracking the ſones of the forefaid prewyns.

Fro. I, ſo I did indeede.

Clo. Why, very well: I telling you then (if you be remembred) that ſuch a one, and ſuch a one, were paff cure of the thing you wot of, vnleſſe they kept very good diet, as I told you.

Fro. All this is true.

Clo. Why very well then.

Eſc. Come: you are a tedious ſoole: to the purpofe: what was done to Elbowes wife, that hee hath cauſe to complaine of? Come me to what was done to her.

Clo. Sir, your honor cannot come to that yet.

Eſc. No fir, nor I meane it nor.

Clo. Sir, but you ſhall come to it, by your honours leaue: And I beſeech you, looke into Maſter Froth here fir, a man of ſoure ſcore pound a yeare; whose father died at Hallowmas: Was not at Hallowmas Maſter Froth?

Fro. Allhallond-Eue.

Clo. Why very well: I hope here be trutnes: he Sir, fitting (as I ſay) in a lower chaire, Sir, it was in the bunch of Grapes, where indeede you haue a delight to fit, haue you not?

Fro. I haue ſo, because it is an open roome, and good for winter.

Clo. Why very well then: I hope here be trutnes.

Ang. This will laſt out a night in Ruffia

When nights are longeſt there: Ile take my leaue,
And leaue you to the hearing of the cauſe;

Hoping youle finde good cauſe to whip them all. Exit.

Eſc. I thinke no leſſe: good morrow to your Lordship. Now Sir, come on: What was done to Elbowes wife, once more?

Clo. Once Sir? there was nothing done to her once.

Elb. I beſeech you Sir, aske him what this man did to my wife.

Clo. I beſeech your honor, aske me.

Eſc. Well fir, what did this Gentleman to her?

Elb. I beſeech you fir, looke in this Gentlemans face: good Maſter Froth looke vpon his honor; 'tis for a good purpose: doth your honor marke his face?

F 3

Eſc. I

66

Meaſure for Meaſure.

Eſc. I fir, very well.

Clo. Nay, I befeech you marke it well.

Eſc. Well, I doe ſo.

Clo. Doth your honor ſee any harme in his face ?

Eſc. Why no.

Clo. Ile be ſuppofed upon a booke, his face is the worſt
thing about him: good then: if his face be the worſt
thing about him, how could Maſter Froth doe the Con-
ſtables wife any harme? I would know that of your
honour.

Eſc. He's in the right (Conſtable) what ſay you to it?

Elb. Firſt, and it like you, the houſe is a reſpected
houſe; next, this is a reſpected ſellow; and his Miſtris is
a reſpected woman.

Clo. By this hand Sir, his wife is a more reſpected per-
ſon then any of vs all.

Elb. Varlet, thou lyeſt; thou lyeſt wicked varlet: the
time is yet to come that ſhee was euer reſpected with
man, woman, or childe.

Clo. Sir, ſhe was reſpected with him, before he mar-
ried with her.

Eſc. Which is the wiser here; Iuſtice or Iniquitie? Is
this true?

Elb. O thou caytiffe: O thou varlet : O thou wick-
ed Hannibal; I reſpected with her, before I was married
to her? If euer I was reſpected with her, or ſhe with me,
let not your worſhip thinke me the poore Dukes Offi-
cer : proue this, thou wicked Hannibal, or ile haue
mine action of battry on thee.

Eſc. If he tooke you a box 'oth'esre, you might haue
your action of ſlander too.

Elb. Marry I thanke your good worſhip for it: what
is't your Worships pleasure I ſhall doe with this wick-
ed Caitiffe ?

Eſc. Truly Officer, becaufe he hath ſome offences in
him, that thou wouldſt diſcouer, if thou couldſt, let him
continue in his courſes, till thou knowſt what they are.

Elb. Marry I thanke your worſhip for it: Thou ſeeth
thou wicked varlet now, what's come vpon thee. Thou
art to continue now thou Varlet, thou art to continue.

Eſc. Where were you borne, friend?

Froth. Here in Vienna, Sir.

Eſc. Are you of ſoureſcore pounds a yeere ?

Froth. Yes, and 't pleas you fir.

Eſc. So: what trade are you of, fir ?

Clo. A Tapſter, a poore widdowes Tapſter.

Eſc. Your Miſtris name?

Clo. Miſtris Ouer-don.

Eſc. Hath ſhe had any more then one husband ?

Clo. Nine, fir : Ouer-don by the laſt.

Eſc. Nine? come hether to me, Maſter Froth ; Maſter
Froth, I would not haue you acquainted with Tapſters;
they will draw you Maſter Froth, and you wil hang them:
get you gon, and let me heare no more of you.

Fro. I thanke your worſhip : for mine owne part, I
neuer come into any roome in a Tap-houſe, but I am
drawne in.

Eſc. Well: no more of it Maſter Froth: farewell:
Come you hether to me, Mr. Tapſter: what's your name
Mr. Tapſter?

Clo. Pompey.

Eſc. What eſſe?

Clo. Bum, Sir.

Eſc. Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing about
you, ſo that in the beaſlieſt ſence, you are Pompes the

great; Pompes, you are partly a bawd, Pompes; howſo-
ever you colour it in being a Tapſter, are you not? come,
tell me true, it ſhall be the better for you.

Clo. Truly fir, I am a poore ſellow that would ſlie.

Eſc. How would you liue Pompes? by being a bawd?
what doe you thinke of the trade Pompes ? is it a lawſull
trade?

Clo. If the Law would allow it, fir.

Eſc. But the Law will not allow it Pompes ; nor it
ſhall not be allowed in Vienna.

Clo. Do's your Worſhip meane to geld and ſplay all
the youth of the City?

Eſc. No, Pompes.

Clo. Truly Sir, in my poore opinion they will too't
then : if your worſhip will take order for the drabs and
the knaues, you need not to feare the bawds.

Eſc. There is pretty orders beginning I can tell you:
It is but heading, and hanging.

Clo. If you head, and hang all that offend that way
but for ten yeare together; you'll be glad to giue out a
Commiffion for more heads : if this law hold in Vienna
ten yeare, ile rent the faireſt houſe in it after three pence
a Bay : if you liue to ſee this come to paffe, ſay Pompes
told you ſo.

Eſc. Thanke you good Pompes ; and in requitall of
your propheſie, harke you : I aduie you let me not ſinde
you before me againe vpon any complaint whatſoever;
no, not for dwelling where you doe : if I doe Pompes, I
ſhall beat you to your Tent, and proue a ſhrewd Caſar
to you: in plaine dealing Pompes, I ſhall haue you whipt;
ſo for this time, Pompes, fare you well.

Clo. I thanke your Worſhip for your good counſell;
but I ſhall follow it as the fleſh and fortune ſhall better
determine. Whip me? no, no, let Carman whip his Iade,
The valiant heart's not whipt out of his trade.
Exit.

Eſc. Come hether to me, Maſter Elbow : come hither
Maſter Conſtable : how long haue you bin in this place
of Conſtable?

Elb. Seuen yeere, and a halſe fir.

Eſc. I thought by the readineſſe in the office, you had
continued in it ſome time : you ſay ſeauen yeares toge-
ther.

Elb. And a halſe fir.

Eſc. Alas, it hath beene great paines to you: they do
you wrong to put you ſo oft vpon't. Are there not men
in your Ward ſufficient to ſerue it?

Elb. 'Faith fir, ſew of any wit in ſuch matters : as they
are choſen, they are glad to chooſe me for them; I do it
for ſome peecce of money, and goe through with all.

Eſc. Looke you bring mee in the names of ſome ſixe
or ſeuen, the moſt ſufficient of your parſh.

Elb. To your Worſhips houſe fir?

Eſc. To my houſe: fare you well: what's a clocke,
thinke you?

Iuſt. Eleuen, Sir.

Eſc. I pray you home to dinner with me.

Iuſt. I humbly thanke you.

Eſc. It grieues me for the death of Claudio
But there's no remedie:

Iuſt. Lord eAngelo is ſeuere.

Eſc. It is but needfull.

Mercy is not it ſelſe, that oft looks ſo,
Pardon is ſtill the nurſe of ſecond woe :

But yet, poore Claudio; there is no remedie.

Come Sir.

Execut.
Scena

Measure for Measure.

67

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Proust, Serban.

Ser. Hee's hearing of a Caule; he will come straight,
I'le tell him of you.

Pro. 'Pray you doe; Ile know
His pleasure, may be he will relent; alas
He hath but as offended in a dreame,
All Seuls, all Ages I'smack of this vice, and he
To die for't?

Enter Angelo.

Ang. Now, what's the matter Proust?

Pro. Is it your will Claudio shall die to morrow?

Ang. Did not I tell thee yea? hadst thou not order?
Why do't thou aske againe?

Pro. Left I might be too rash:

Vader your good correction, I haue scene
When after execution, Iudgement hath
Repented ore his doome.

Ang. Goe to; let that be mine,

Doe you your office, or giue vp your Place,
And you shall well be spars'd.

Pro. I craue your Honours pardon :

What shall be done Sir, with the groaning Iuliet?

Shee's very neere her howre.

Ang. Difpose of her

To some more fitter place; and that with speed.

Ser. Here is the fitter of the man condemn'd,
Defires acceffe to you.

Ang. Hath he a Sifter?

Pro. I my good Lord, a very vertuous maid,
And to be shortlie of a Sifter-hood,
If not already.

Ang. Well: let her be admitted,
See you the Fornicatreffe be remourd,
Let her haue needfull, but not lauifh meanes,
There shall be order for't.

Enter Lucio and Isabella.

Pro. 'Sauce your Honour.'

(will ?)

Ang. Stay a little while : y'are welcome: what's your
Ifab. I am a wefull Sutor to your Honour,

'Please but your Honor heare me.

Ang. Well: what's your suite.

Ifab. There is a vice that moft I doe abhorre,
And moft defire should meet the blow of Iudice;
For which I would not plead, but that I muſt,
For which I muſt not plead, but that I am
At warre, twixt will, and will not.

Ang. Well: the matter?

Ifab. I have a brother condemn'd to die,
I doe beſech you let it be his fault,
And not my brother.

Pro. Heauen giue thee mouing graces.

Ang. Condemne the fault, and not the actor of it,
Why cuery fault's condemn'd ere it be done:
Mine were the verie Cipher of a Function
To fine the faults, whose fine stands in record,
And let goe by the Actor.

Ifab. Oh iuſt, but ſewere Law :

I had a brother then; heauen keepe your honour.

Luc. Giue 'not ore fo: to him againe, entreat him,
Kneele downe before him, hang upon his gowne,
You are too cold: if you ſhould need a pin,

You could not with more tame a tongue defire it:
To him, I fay.

Ifab. Muff he needs die?

Ang. Maiden, no remedie.

Ifab. Yes: I doe thinke that you might pardon him,
And neither heauen, nor man grieue at the mecty.

Ang. I will not doe't.

Ifab. But can you if you would?

Ang. Looke what I will not, that I cannot doe.

Ifab. But might you doe't & do the world no wrong
If to your heart were touch'd with that remorſe,
As mine is to him?

Ang. Hee's ſentenc'd, tis too late.

Luc. You are too cold.

Ifab. Too late? why no: I that doe ſpeak a word
May call it againe: well, beleuee this
No ceremony that to great ones longes,
Not the Kings Crowne; nor the deputed ſword,
The Marshalls Truncheon, nor the Iudges Robe
Become them with one halfe so good a grace
As mercie does: If he had bin as you, and you as he,
You would haue fl't like him, but he like you
Would not haue beene so ſterne.

Ang. Pray you be gone.

Ifab. I would to heauen I had your potencie,
And you were Ifabell: should it then be thus?
No: I would tell what'twere to be a Iudge,
And what a prifoner.

Luc. I, touch him: there's the vaine.

Ang. Your Brother is a forfeit of the Law,
And you but wafe your words.

Ifab. Alas, alas:
Why all the foules that were, were forfeit once,
And he that might the vantage beft haue tooke,
Found out the remedie: how would you be,
If he, which is the top of Iudgement, should
But iudge you, as you are? Oh, thinke on that,
And mercie then will breathe within your lips
Like man new made.

Ang. Be you content, (faire Maid)
It is the Law, not I, condemnme your brother,
Were he my kinfman, brother, or my fonne,
It should be thus with him: he muſt die to morrow.

Ifab. To morrow? oh, that's sodaine,
Spare him, ſpare him:
Hee's not prepar'd for death; euen for our kitchins
We kill the fowle of ſeason: ſhall we ferue heauen
With leſſe reſpect then we do minifter
To our groſſe ſelues? good, good my Lord, bethink you;
Who is it that hath did't for this offence ?
There's many haue committed it.

Luc. I, well faid.

Ang. The Law hath not bin dead, though it hath fl't
Thofe many had not dar'd to doe that euill
If the firſt, that did th' Edict infringe
Had anſwer'd for his deed. Now tis awake,
Takes note of what is done, and like a Prophet
Lookes in a glaſſe that ſhewes what future euils
Either now, or by remiſſeneſſe, new concei'u'd,
And ſo in progreſſe to be hatc'hd, and borne,
Are now to haue no ſucceffiue degrees,
But here they lie to end.

Ifab. Yet ſhew ſome pittie.

Ang. I ſhew it moſt of all, when I ſhow Iudice;
For then I pittie that ſe I doe not know,
Which a diſmis'd offence, would after gaue

And

68

Measure for Measure.

And do him right, that answering one foule wrong
Lies not to act another. Be satisfied;
Your Brother dies to morrow; be content.

Ifab. So you must be y first that gues this sentence,
And hee, that suffers: Oh, it is excellent
To have a Giants strength: but it is tyrannous
To vfe it like a Giant.

Luc. That's well said.

Ifab. Could great men thunder

As Ione himselfe do's, Ione would neuer be quiet,
For every pelting petty Officer:
Would vfe his heauen for thunder;

Nothing but thunder: Mercifull heauen,
Thou rather with thy sharpe and fulpherous bolt
Splits the vn-wedgable and gnarled Oke,
Then the soft Mertill: But man, proud man,
Dreft in a little briefe authoritie,

Most ignorant of what he's most affur'd,
(His glafsie Essence) like an angry Ape
Plaies such phantaftique tricks before high heauen,
As makes the Angels weepes who with our spleenes,
Would all themselves laugh mortall.

Luc. Oh, to him, to him wench: he will relent,
Hc'e's comming: I perceiue't.

Pro. Pray heauen he win him.

Ifab. We cannot weigh our brother with our selfe,
Great men may ieft with Saints: tis wit in them,
But in the leffe fowle prophanation.

Luc. Thou'rt i'th right (Girle) more o'that.

Ifab. That in the Captaine's but a chollericke word,
Which in the Souldier is flat blasphemie.

Luc. Art auis'd o'that? more on't.

Ang. Why doe you put these layings vpon me?

Ifab. Because Authority, though it erre like others,
Hath yet a kinde of medicine in it selfe

That skins the vice o'th top; goe to your bosome,
Knock there, and aske your heart what it doth know,
That's like my brothers fault: if it confesse

A naturall guiltineſſe, ſuch as is his,

Let it not found a thought vpon your tongue

Against my brothers life.

Ang. Shee ſpeakes, and 'tis ſuch fence

That my Sence breeds with it; fare you well.

Ifab. Gentle my Lord, turne backe.

Ang. I will bethinke me: come againe to morrow.

Ifab. Hark, how Ile bribe you: good my Lord turn back.

Ang. How? bribe me?

If. I, with ſuch gifts that heauen ſhall ſhare with you.

Luc. You had mar'd all elfe.

Ifab. Not with fond Sickles of the tested-gold,
Or Stones, whose rate are either rich, or poore
As fancie values them: but with true prayers,
That ſhall be vp at heauen, and enter there

Ere Sunne rife: prayers from preferued foules,
From faſting Maides, whose mindees are dediſate
To nothing temporall.

Ang. Well: come to me to morrow.

Luc. Go to: 'tis well; away.

Ifab. Heauen keepe your honour ſafe.

Ang. Amen.

For I am that way going to temptation,
Where then prayers croſſe.

Ifab. At what hower to morrow,

Shall I attend your Lordſhip?

Ang. At any time 'fore-noone.

Ifab. 'Sae your Honour.

Ang. From thee: euen from thy vertue.

What's this? what's this? is this her fault, or mine?
The Tempter, or the Tempted, who fins moſt? ha?

Not the: nor doth the tempt: but it is I,

That, lying by the ſilver in the Sunne,
Doe as the Carrion do's, not as the flowre,
Corrupt with vertuous ſeason: Can it be,
That Modesty may more betray our Sence

Then woman's lightneſſe? hauing wafe ground enough,
Shall we desire to raze the Sanctuary

And pitch our euil there? oh ſie, ſie: ſie:

What doſt thou? or what art thou ?

Doſt thou desire her fowly, for those things

That make her good? oh, let her brother lie.

Theeues for their robbery haue authority,

When Iudges ſteale themselves: what, doe I loue her,
That I desire to heare her ſpeake againe?

And ſeaf vpon her eyes? what is't I dreame on?

Oh cunning enemy, that to catch a Saint,

With Saints doſt bait thy hooke: moſt dangerous

Is that temptation, that doth goad vs on?

To ſinne, in louing vertue: neuer could the Strumpet

With all her double vigor, Art, and Nature

Once stir my temper: but this vertuous Maid

Subdues me quite: Euer till now

When men were ſond, I mild, and wondred how. Exit.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Duke and Prouoft.

Duke. Haile to you, Prouoft, so I thinke you are.

Pro. I am the Prouoft: what's your will, good Frier?
Duk. Bound by my charity, and my bleſſ order,

I come to viſite the afflicted ſpirits

Here in the prison: doe me the common right

To let me ſee them: and to make me know

The nature of their crimes, that I may minifter

To them accordingly.

Pro. I would do more then that, if more were needſull

Enter Iuliet.

Looke here comes one: a Gentlewoman of mine,
Who falling in the flawes of her owne youth,
Bath blifterd her report: She is with childe,

And he that got it, ſentenc'd: a yong man,

More fit to doe another ſuch offence,
Then dye for this.

Duk. When muſt he dye?

Pro. As I do thinke to morrow.

I haue prouided for you, ſlay a while

And you ſhall be conducted.

Duk. Repent you (faire one) of the ſin you carry?

Iul. I doe; and beare the ſhame moſt patiently.

Du. Ile teach you how you ſhal araign your conſciëce
And try your penitence, if it be found,

Or hollowly put on.

Iul. Ile gladly learne.

Duk. Lone you the man that wrong'd you?

Iul. Yes, as I loue the woman that wrong'd him.

Duk. So then it ſeeses your moſt offence full aſt
Was mutually committed.

Iul. Mutually.

Duk. Then was your ſin of heauier kinde then his.

Iul. I doe confesse it, and repent it (Father.)

Du. 'Tis

Measure for Measure.

69

Duke. 'Tis meet so (daughter) but least you do repent
As that the sin hath brought you to this shame,
Which sorrow is alwaies toward our felues, not heauen,
Showing we would not spare heauen,as we loue it,
But as we stand in feare.

Iul. I doe repent me,as it is an euill,
And take the shame with joy.

Duke. There reft:
Your partner (as I heare) muft die to morrow,
And I am going with infruiction to him:
Grace goe with you, Benedicite.
Exit.

Iul. Muſt die to morrow ? oh inurious Loue
That reſpits me a life, whose very comfort
Is ſtill a dying horror.

Pro. 'Tis pitty of him.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Angelo.

An. When I would pray,& think,I thinke, and pray
To feuerall ſubiects: heauen hath my empty words,
Whilft my Inuention, hearing not my Tongue,
Anchors on Isabell: heauen in my mouth,
As if I did but onely chew his name,
And in my heart the ſtrong and ſwelling euill
Of my conception : the ſlate whereon I ſtudied
Is like a good thing, being often read
Growne ſeard, and tedious: yea, my Grauitie
Wherein (let no man heare me) I take pride,
Could I, with boote, change for an idle plume
Which the ayre beats for vaine : oh place, oh forme,
How often doſt thou with thy caſe, thy habit
Wrench awe from fooles, and tye the wiser ſoules
To thy falſe ſeeming ? Blood, thou art blood,
Let's write good Angell on the Deuills horne

To thy falſe ſeeming ? Blood, thou art blood,
Let's write good Angell on the Deuills horne
'Tis not the Deuills Creſt: how now? who's there?

Ser. One Isabell, a Sifter, deſires acceſſe to you.

Ang. Teach her the way: oh, heauen

Why doe's my bloud thus maſter to my heart,
Making both it vnable for thy ſelfe,
And diſpoſſeſing all my other parts
Of neceſſary fitneſſe?

So play the foolish throngs with one that ſwounds,
Come all to help him, and ſo ſtop the ayre
By which hee should reuive: and euen ſo
The generall ſubieſt to a wel-wiſht King
Quit their owne part, and in obſequious ſondneſſe
Crowd to his prefence, where their vn-taught loue
Muſt needs appear ſoffence: how now faire Maid.

Enter Isabella.

Iſab. I am come to know your pleasure. (me,

An. That you might know it, wold much better pleafe
Then to demand what'tis: your Brother cannot lie.

Iſab. Euen ſo: heauen keepe your Honor.

Ang. Yet may he lie a while: and it may be

As long as you, or I: yet he muſt die.

Iſab. Vnderyour Sentence?

Ang. Yea.

Iſab. When, I beſeeth you: that in his Repriſe
(Longer, or ſhorter) he may be ſo fitted
That his ſoule ſicken not.

Ang. Ha? ſie, these filthy vices: It were as good

To pardon him, that hath from nature ſolne
A man already made, as to remit

Their ſawcie ſweetnes, that do coyne heauens Image
In ſtamps that are forbid: 'tis all as eafe,
Falsely to take away a life true made,
As to put mettle in refrained meanes
To make a falſe one.

Iſab. 'Tis ſet downe ſo in heauen, but not in earth.

Ang. Say you ſo: then I ſhall poz e you quickly.

Which had you rather, that the moſt iuſt Law
Now tooke your brothers life, and to redeeme him
Gie vp your body to ſuch ſweet vnčeanneſſe

As ſhe that he hath ſtaind?

Iſab. Sir, beleeue this.

I had rather giue my body, then my ſoule.

Ang. I talke not of your ſoule: our compel'd fins
Stand more for number, then for accompt.

Iſab. How ſay you?

Ang. Nay Ile not warrant that: for I can ſpeake
A gainſt the thing I ſay: Anſwere to this,
I (now the voyce of the recorded Law)
Pronounce a ſentence on your Brothers life,
Might there not be a charitie in finne,

To faue this Brothers life ?
Iſab. Pleafe you to doo't,
Ile take it as a perill to my ſoule,
It is no ſfine at all, but charitie.

Ang. Pleaf'd you to doo't, at perill of your ſoule
Were equal poiz of finne, and charitie.

Iſab. That I do beg his life, iſ it be finne
Heauen let me beare it: you granting of my ſuit,
If that be fin, Ile make it my Morne-praier,
To haue it added to the faults of mine,
And nothing of your anſwere.

Ang. Nay, but heare me,

Your ſence parſues not mine: either you are ignorant,
Or ſeeine ſo crafty ; and that's not good.

Iſab. Let be ignorant, and in nothing good,
But graciously to know I am no better.

Ang. Thus wifdome wifhes to appeare moſt bright,
When it doth taxe it ſelfe: As theſe blacke Maſques
Proclaime an en-field beauty ten times louder.

Then beauty could diſplaied: But marke me,

To be receiued plaine, Ile ſpeake more giſſe:
Your Brother is to dye.

Iſab. So.

Ang. And his ſoffence is ſo, as it appears,
Accountant to the Law, vpon that paine.

Iſab. True.

Ang. Admit no other way to faue his life
(As I ſubſcribe not that, nor any other,
But in the ſoffe of queſtion) that you, his Sifter,
Finding your ſelfe deſir'd of ſuch a perſon,
Whose credit with the Iudge, or owne great place,
Could fetch your Brother from the Manacles

Of the all-building-Law: and that there were
No earthly meane to faue him, but that either
You muſt lay downe the treasures of your body,

To this ſupſoſed, or eſſe to let him ſuffer:
What would you doe?

Iſab. As much for my poore Brother, as my ſelfe;
That is: were I vnder the tearmes of death,
Th'imprefſion of keene whips, I'd weare as Rubies,
And ſtrip my ſelfe to death, as to a bed,
That longing hane bin ſicke for, ere I'd yeeld
My body vp to ſhame.

Ang. That

70

Measure for Measure.

Ang. Then must your brother die.

Isa. And 'twer the cheaper way :
Better it were a brother dide at once,
Then that a fifter, by redeeming him
Should die for euer.

Ang. Were not you then as cruell as the Sentence,
That you haue flander'd so ?

Isa. Ignomie in ranfome, and free pardon
Are of two houres : lawfull mercie,
Is nothing kin to fowle redemption.

Ang. You feem'd of late to make the Law a tirant,
And rather prou'd the fliding of your brother
A merriment, then a vice.

Isa. Oh pardon me my Lord, it oft fals out
To haue, what we would haue,
We speake not what we meane :
I fomething do excufe the thing I hate,
For his aduantage that I dearely loue.

Ang. We are all fraile.

Isa. Elfe let my brother die,
If not a fedarie but onely he
Owe, and fucceed thy weakneſſe.

Ang. Nay, women are fraile too.

Isa. I, as the glaſſes where they view themſelues,
Which are as eafie broke as they make ſormes :
Women? Helpe heauen; men their creation marre
In profiting by them: Nay, call vs ten times fraile,
For we are loſt, as our complexions are,
And credulous to falſe prints.

Ang. I thinke it well :

And from this teſtimonie of your owne ſex
(Since I ſuppofe we are made to be no ſtronger
Then faults may ſhake our frames) let us be bold;
I do arreft your words. Be that you are,
That is a woman; if you be more, you'r none.
If you be one (as you are) well expreſſ
By all external warrants) ſhew it now,
By putting on the deſtin'd Liuerie.

Isa. I haue no tongue but one; gentle my Lord,
Let me entreat you speake the former language,

Ang. Plainlie conceiue I loue you.

Isa. My brother did loue Juliet,

And you tell me that he ſhall die for't.

Ang. He ſhall not Isabell if you giue me loue,

Isa. I know your vertue hath a licence in't.

Which feemes a little ſouler then it is,
To plucke on others.

Ang. Belceue me on mine Honor,

My words expreſſe my purpose.

Isa. Ha? Little honor, to be much beleeu'd,
And moſt pernicious purpose: Seeming, feeming.
I will proclaine thee Angelo, looke for't.
Signe me a prefent pardon for my brother,
Or with an out-streſt throat. He tell the world aloud
What man thou art.

Ang. Who will beleeue thee Isabell ?

My vnfold name, th' auſteerenefſe of my life,
My vouch againſt you, and my place i'th State,

Will ſo your accufation ouer-weigh,
That you ſhall rfile in your owne reports,
And ſmell of calumnie. I haue begun,
And now I giue my ſenſuall race, the reine,
Fit thy content to my ſharpe appetite,

Lay by all nicetic, and prolious blufhes
That banish what they line for: Redeeme thy brother,
By yeelding vp thy bodie to my will,

Or eſſe he muſt not onelie die the death,
But thy vnkindneſſe shall his death draw out
To lingring ſufferance: Anſwer me to morrow,
Or by the affection that now guides me moſt,
Ile proue a Tirant to him. As for you,
Say what you can; my falſe, ore-weighs your true, Exit.

Isa. To whom should I complain? Did I tell this,
Who would beleeue me ? O perulous mouthes
That beare in them, one and the ſelſefame tongue,
Either of condemnation, or approoſe,
Bidding the Law make curſie to their will,
Hooking both right and wrong to th' appetite,
To follow as it drawes. Ile to my brother,
Though he hath falne by prompture of the blood,
Yet hath he in him ſuch a minde of Honor,
That had he twentie heads to tender downe
On twentie bloodie blockes, hee'd yeeld them vp,
Before his ſifter should her bodie ſtoope :
To ſuch abhord pollution.
Then Isabell liue chafte, and brother die;
"More then our Brother, is our Chaſſitie.
Ile tell him yet of Angelo's requeſt,
And fit his minde to death, for his ſoules reſt. Exit.

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Duke, Clandio, and Pronost.

Du. So then you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo?
Cla. The miferable haue no other medicine
But onely hope: I haue hope to liue, and am prepard to die.

Duke. Be absolute for death: either death or life
Shall thereby be the fweeter. Reason thus with life :
If I do looke thee, I do looke a thing
That none but fooles would keepe: a breath thou art,
Seruile to all the skyie-influences,
That doſt this habitation where thou keeſt
Hourely afflicht: Meerely, thou art deaths foole,
For him thou labourſt by thy flight to ſhut,
And yet runſt toward him full. Thou art not noble,
For all th'accommodations that thou bearſt,
Are nurſt by bafeſſe: Thou'rt by no meanes valiant,
For thou doſt feare the soft and tender forſe:
Of a poore worme: thy beſt of reſt is ſleepe;
And that thou oft prouokaſt, yet groſſelle ſearſt
Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thy ſelſe,
For thou exiſts on manie a thousand graines
That ſſue out of duſt. Happie thou art not,
For what thou haſt not, ſtill thou ſtriuſt to get,
And what thou haſt forgeruſt. Thou art not certaine,
For thy complexion shifts to ſtrange effects,
After the Moone: If thou art rich, thou'rt poore,
For like an Aſſe, whoſe backe with Ingots bowſes;
Thou bearſt thy heauie riches but a journie,
And death vnloads thee; Friend haſt thou none.
For thine owne bowels which do call thee, fire
The meere effusion of thy proper loines.
Do curſe the Gowt, Sapego, and the Rheume
For ending thee no sooner. Thou haſt nor youth, nor age
But as it were an after-dinners ſleepe
Dreaming on both, for all thy bleſſed youth
Becomes as aged, and doth begge the almes
Of palſed-Eld: and when thou art old, and rich,Thou

Meaſure for Meaſure.

71

Thou haſt neither heate, affection, limbe, nor beauteit
To make thy riches pleafant: what's yet in this
That beares the name of life? Yet in this life
Lie hid moe thousand deaths; yet death we feare
That makes these oddes, all euen.

Cla. I humblie thanke you.

To ſue to liue, I finde I ſeeke to die,

And ſeeking death, ſinde life : Let it come on.

Enter Isabella.

Isab. What hoa? Peace heere; Grace, and good com-
panic.

Pro. Who's there ? Come in, the wifh deferues a welcome.

Duke. Deere fir, ere long Ile visit you againe.

Cla. Moſt bolie Sir, I thanke you.

Isa. My buſineſſe is a word or two with Claudio.

Pro. And verie welcom : looke Signior, here's your
ſifter.

Duke. Prouoſt, a word with you.

Pro. As manie as you please.

Duke. Bring them to heare me ſpeak, where I may be
conceal'd.

Cla. Now ſifter, what's the comfort?

Isa. Why,

As all comforts are: moſt good, moſt good indeede,
Lord Angelo having affairs to heauen
Intends you for his ſwift Ambaſſador,
Where you ſhall be an euerlaſting Leiger;

Therefore your beſt appointment make with ſpeed,
To Morrow you ſet on.

Cla. Is there no remedie?

Isa. None, but ſuch remedie, as to ſaue a head

To cleaue a heart in twaine:

Cla. But is there anie?

Isa. Yes brother, you may liue;

There is a diuelliſh mercie in the Iudge,
If you'l implore it, that will free your life,
But ſetter you till death.

Cla. Perpetuall durance?

Isa. Iuſt, perpetuall durance, a reſtraint

Through all the worlds vaſtitidie you had
To a determin'd scope.

Cla. But in what nature?

Isa. In ſuch a one, as you conſenting too',
Would barke your honor from that trunke you beare,
And leaue you naked.

Cla. Let me know the point.

Isa. Oh, I do ſeare thee Claudio, and I quake,
Leaſt thou a ſeaufuor life should it entertaine,
And ſix or ſeuen winters more reſpect

Then a perpetuall Honor. Dar't thou die ?
The ſenſe of death is moſt in apprehenſion,
And the poore Beetle that we treade upon
In corporall ſufferance, ſinds a pang as great,
As when a Giant dies.

Cla. Why giue you me this ſhame ?
Thinke you I can a reſolution fetch
From flowrie tenderneſſe ? If I muſt die,
I will encounter darkneſſe as a bride,
And hugge it in mine armes.

Isa. There ſpake my brother : there my fathers graue
Did viter forth a voice. Yes, thou muſt die:
Thou art too noble, to conferue a life
In bafe appliances. This outward ſainted Deputie,
Whose feted viſage, and deliberate word
Nips youth i'th' head, and follies doth emmew

As Falcon doth the Fowle, is yet a diuell :

His filth within being caſt, he would appeare
A pond, as deepe as hell.

Cla. The prenzie, Angelo ?

Isa. Oh'tis the cunning Luierie of hell,
The damnèſt bodie to inueſt, and couer
In prenzie gardes; doſt thou thinke Claudio,
If I would yeeld him my virginitie
Thou might'ſt be freed?

Cla. Oh heauen, it cannot be.

Isa. Yes, he would giu't thee; from this rank offence
So to offend him ſtill. This night's the time
That I should do what I abhorre to name,
Or eſſe thou dieſt to morrow.

Cla. Thou ſhalt not do't.

Isa. O, were it but my life,
I'de throw it downe for your deliuerance.

As frankly as a pin.

Cla. Thankes deere Isabell.

Isa. Be readie Claudio, for your death to morrow.

Cla. 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 finne,
Or of the deadly ſeuen it is the leaſt.

Isa. Which is the leaſt ?

Cla. If it were damnable, he being ſo wife,
Why would he for the momentarie tricke
Be perdurablie ſinde ? Oh Isabell.

Isa. What faies my brother?

Cla. Death is a ſearefull thing.

Isa. And ſhamed life, a hatefull.

Cla. I, but to die, and go we know not where,
To lie in cold obſtruction, and to rot,
This ſensible warme motion, to become

A kneaded cloud; And the delighted ſpirit

To bath in fierie floods, or to recide

In thrilling Region of thicke-ribbed Ice,

To be imprifon'd in the viewleſſe windes

And blowne with reſſtleſſe violence round about

The pendant world : or to be worſe then worſt
Of thoſe, that lawleſſe and incertaine thought,
Imagine howling, 'tis too horrible.

The wearieſt, and moſt loathed worldly life

That Age, Ache, periury, and imprifonment

Can lay on nature, is a Paradise

To what we ſeare of death.

Isa. Alas, alas.

Cla. Sweet ſifter, let me liue.

What finne you do, to ſaue a brothers life,
Nature diſpenſes with the decede ſo farre,
That it becomes a vertue.

Isa. Oh you beaſt,
Oh faithleſſe Coward, oh diſhoneſt wretch,
Wilt thou be made a man, out of my vice ?
Is't not a kinde of Inceſt, to take life
From thine owne ſifters ſhame ? What should I thinke,
Heauen ſhield my Mother plaid my Father faire :

For ſuch a warped ſlip of wilderneſſe

Nere iſu'd from his blood. Take my defiance,

Die, perſh : Might but my bending downe

Repreue thee from thy fate, it should proceede.

Ile pray a thousand priaiers for thy death,
No word to ſaue thee.

Cla. Nay heare me Isabell.

Isa. Oh ſie, ſie, ſie:
Thy finn's not accidentall, but a Trade;

Mercie

72

Measure for Measure.

Mercy to thee would proue it selfe a Bawd,
'Tis best that thou diest quickly.

Cla. Oh heare me Isabella.

Duk. Vouchsafe a word,yong fitter,but one word.

Isa. What is your Will.

Duk. Might you diffense with your leysure, I would
by and by haue some fpeech with you: the fatiffaction I
would require, is likewife your owne benefit.

Isa. I haue no superfluous leysure, my stay must be
stolen out of other affaires; but I will attend you a while.

Duke. Son,Ihaue ouer-heard what hath pait between
you & your fitter. Angelo had neuer the purpose to cor-
rupt her; onely he hath made an affay of her vertue, to
praſtise his iudgement with the diſpoſition of natures.
She (hauing the truth of honour in her) hath made him
that gracious denial, which he is moſt glad to receiue: I
am Confessor to Angelo, and I know this to be true, ther-
fore prepare your ſelfe to death: do not ſatifie your re-
ſolution with hopes that are fallible, to morrow you
muſt die, goe to your knees,and make ready.

Cla. Let me ask my fitter pardon. I am so out of loue
with life, that I will ſue to be rid of it.

Duke. Hold you there: farewell: Proueſt, a word
with you.

Pro. What's your will (father?)

Duk. That now you are come,you will be gone: leaue
me a while with the Maid, my minde promifes with my
habit, no loffe ſhall touch her by my company.

Pro. In good time.

Exit.

Duk. The hand that hath made you faire, hath made
you good: the goodness that is cheap in beauty, makes
beauty briefe in goodnes; but grace being the foule of
your complexion, shall keepe the body of it euer faire:
the affault that Angelo hath made to you, Fortune hath
conuaid to my vnderſtanding; and but that Fortune hath
examples for his falling, I should wonder at Angelo: how
will you doe to content this Subſtitute, and to faue your
Brother?

Isab. I am now going to refoloe him: I had rather
my brother die by the Law, then my fonne should be vn-
lawfullie borne. But (oh) how much is the good Duke
decei'd in Angelo: if euer he returne, and I can ſpeake
to him, I will open my lips in vaine, or diſcouer his go-
ernment.

Duke. That shall not be much amiffe: yet,as the mat-
ter now ſtands, he will avoid your accufation: he made
triall of you onelie. Therefore faften your care on my
aduifings, to the loue I haue in doing good; a remedie
prefents it ſelfe. I doe make my ſelfe beleeue that you
may moſt vprighteouſly do a poor wronged Lady a me-
rited benefit; redeem your brother from theangry Law;
doe no ſtaine to your owne gracious perſon, and much
pleafe the abſent Duke, if peraduenture he ſhall euer re-
turne to haue hearing of this buſineſſe.

Isab. Let me heare you ſpeake farther; I haue ſpirit to
do any thing that appears not fowle in the truth of my
ſpirit.

Duke. Vertue is bold, and goodnes neuer fearefull:
Hauc you not heard ſpeake of Mariana the fitter of Fre-
dericke the great Souldier, who miſcarried at Sea?

Isa. I haue heard of the Lady, and good words went
with her name.

Duke. Shee should this Angelo haue married: was af-
fianced to her oath, and the nuptiall appointed: between
which time of the contraſt, and limit of the ſolemnitie,
her brother Fredericke was wrackt at Sea, hauing in that

perſhed veſſell, the dowry of his ſitter: but marke how
heauily this beſell to the poore Gentlewoman, there the
loft a noble and renowned brother, in his loue toward
her, euer moſt kinde and naturall: with him the portion
and finew of her fortune, her marriage dowry: with
both, her combynate-husband, this well-feeming
Angelo.

Isab. Can this be ſo? did Angelo ſo leaue her?

Duke. Left her in her teares, & dried not one of them
with his comfort: I wallowed his vowes whole, preten-
ding in her, diſcoueries of diſhonor: in ſew, beſtow'd
her on her owne lamentation, which ſhe yet weares for
his ſake; and he, a marble to her teares, is wawhed with
them, but relents not.

Isab. What a merit were it in death to take this poore
maid from the world? what corruption in this life, that
it will let this man liue? But how out of this can ſhe e a-
uaile?

Duke. It is a rupture that you may easily heale: and the
cure of it not onely faues your brother, but keepe you
from diſhonor in doing it.

Isab. Shew me how (good Father.)

Duk. This fore-named Maid hath yet in her the con-
tinuance of her firſt affection: his vnviſt vnkindeneſſe
(that in all reaſon ſhould haue quenched her loue) hath
(like an impediment in the Current) made it more vio-
lent and vnruly: Goe you to Angelo, anſwere his requi-
ring with a plausible obedience, agree with his demands
to the point: onely referre your ſelfe to this aduantage;
ſirſt, that your ſlay with him may not be long: that the
time may haue all ſhadow, and ſilence in it; and the place
anſwere to conuenience: this being granted in courſe,
and now followes all: wee ſhall aduife this wronged
maid to ſeed vp your employment, goe in your place:
if the encounter acknowledge it ſelfe hereafter, it may
compell him to her recompence; and heere, by this is
your brother faued, your honor vntainted, the poore
Mariana aduanted, and the corrupt Deputy ſcaled.
The Maid will I frame, and make fit for his attempt: if
you thinke well to carry this as you may, the doublens
of the benefit defends the deceit from reproofe. What
thinke you of it?

Isab. The image of it gues me content already, and I
truſt it will grow to a moſt p[ro]ſperous perſection.

Duk. It lies much in your holding vp: haſte you ſpe-
dily to Angelo, if for this night he intreat you to his bed,
give him promife of ſatisfaction: I will preſently to S.
Lukes, there at the moated-Grange recides this deie-
eted Mariana; at that place call vpon me, and diſpatch
with Angelo, that it may be quickly.

Isab. I thank you for this comfort: fare you well good
father.

Exit.

Enter Elbow, Clowne, Officers.

Elb. Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that you
will needes buy and fell men and women like beaſts, we
ſhall haue all the world drinke browne & white baſtard.

Duk. Oh heauens, what ſtuffe is heere.

Claw. Twas neuer merry world ſince of two vſuries
the merriéſt was put downe, and the worſer allow'd by
order of Law; a ſur'd gowne to keepe him warne; and
ſurd with Foxe and Lamb-skins too, to ſignifie, that craft
being richer then Innocency, ſtands for the facing.

Elb. Come your way fir: 'bleſſe you good Father
Frier.

Duk. And you good Brother Father, what offence
hath this man made you, Sir?

Elb. Marry

Measure for Measure.

73

Elb. Marry Sir, he hath offended the Law; and Sir,
we take him to be a Theefe too Sir: for wee haue found
upon him Sir, a strange Pick-lock, which we haue sent
to the Deputie.

Duke. Fie, firrah, a Bawd, a wicked bawd.
The eivil that thou caueth to be done,
That is thy means to liue. Do thou but thinke
What 'tis to cram a maw, or cloth a backe
From such a filthie vice: to fyay to thy selfe,
From their abhominable and beaflly touches
I drinke, I eate away my selfe, and liue:
Canst thou beleue thy living is a life,
So flinkingly depending a Go mend, go mend.

Clo. Indeed, it do's flinke in some lort, Sir:
But yet Sir I would proue.

Duke. Nay, if the dwell haue given thee proofs for fin
Thou wilt proue his. Take him to prison Officer:
Correction, and Influcation must both worke,
Ere this rude beaſt will profit.

Elb. He muſt before the Deputy Sir, he ha's given him warning: the Deputy cannot abide a Whore-maſter: if he be a Whore-monger, and comes before him, he were as good go a mile on his errand.

Duke. That we were all, as some would ſee me to bee
From our faults, as faults from ſeeming free.

Enter Lucio.

Elb. His necke will come to your waſt, a Cord fir.

Clo. I lypp comfort, I cry baile: Here's a Gentleman,
and a friend of mine.

Luc. How now noble Pompes? What, at the wheels
of Caſar ? Art thou led in triumph ? What is there none
of Pigmalions Images newly made woman to bee
had now, for putting the hand in the pocket, and extraſing
clutch'd ? What reply. Ha ? What faſt thou to this
Tune, Matter, and Method ? Is't not droun'd i'th laſt
raine ? Ha ? What faſt thou Trot? Is the world as it was
Man ? Which is the vray ? Is it ſad, and few words?
Or how ? The tricce of it?

Duke. Still thus, and thus: still vvorſe ?

Luc. How doth my deere Morſell, thy Milſir? Pro-
cures ſhe full ? Ha ?

Clo. Troth fir, ſhee hath eaten vp all her beeſe, and
ſhe is her ſelfe in the tub.

Luc. Why 'tis good: It is the right of it; it muſt be
ſo. Euer your fresh Whore, and your poud'rd Baud, an
vnaſhun'd conſequence, it muſt be ſo. Art going to pri-
ſon Pompes?

Clo. Yes faith fir.

Luc. Why 'tis not amifle Pompes; ſarewell; goe ſay
I ſent thee tither : for debt Pompes? Or how?

Elb. For being a baud, for being a baud.

Luc. Well, then imprifon him. If imprisonment be
the due of a baud, why 'tis his right. Baud is the doubt-
ſeſſe, and of antiquity too. Baud borne. Farwell good
Pompes: Commend me to the prifon Pompes, you will
turne good husband now. Pompes, you will keepe the
houſe.

Clo. I hope Sir, your good Woffship will be my baile?

Luc. No indeed. Wilt you not Pompes, it is not the year:
I will pray (Pompes) to encreaſe your bondage if you
take it not patiently: Why, your meſtle is the more:
Adieu truſtive Pompes. Wilt you not Pompes?

Bleſſe you Friar.

Duke. And you, my TRUſTIVE POMPES?

Elb. Come you, waiſes fir, come it.

Clo. You will not baile me then Sir?

Luc. Then Pompes, nor now: what newes abroad Frie-
er? What newes?

Elb. Come your waiſes fir, come.

Luc. Goe to kennell (Pompes) goe:
What newes Frier of the Duke?

Duke. I know none: can you tell me of any?

Luc. Some fay he is with the Emperor of Ruffia: other
fome, he is in Rome: but where is he thinke you?

Duke. I know not where: but wherefoeuer, I wif
him well.

Luc. It was a mad fantastical tricke of him to ſteale
from the State, and vſurpe the beggerie hee was neuer
borne to: Lord Anguel Dukes it well in his absence: he
put straſingſlion too t.

Duke. He do's well in't.

Luc. A little more lenitie to Lecherie would doe no
harme in him: Something too crabbed that way, Frier.

Duke. It is too general a vice, and ſeueritie muſt cure it.

Luc. Yes in good foot, the vice is of a great kindred;
it is vvell allied, but it is impossible to extirp it. quite,
Frier, till eating and drinking be put downe. They ſay
this Angela vvas not made by Man and Woman, after
this downe-right vray of Creation : is it true, thinke
you?

Duke. How should he be made then?

Luc. Some report, a Sea-maid spawnd him. Some,
that he vvas begot betweene two Stock-ſihes. But it
is certaine, that when he makes water, his Vrine is con-
geal'd ice, that I know to bee true: and he is a motion
generative, that's infallible.

Duke. You are pleasant fir, and ſpeake apace.

Luc. Why, what a rulſtleſe thing is this in him, for
the rebellion of a Cod-prece, to take away the life of a
man ? Would the Duke that is absent haue done this ?
Ere he vwould haue hang'd a man for the getting a hun-
dred Baſtards, he vwould haue paide for the Nurſing a
thousand. He had ſome feeling of the ſport, hee knew
the ſeuerice, and that inſtructed him to mercie.

Duke. I neuer heard the absent Duke much detested
for Women, he was not enclin'd that vray.

Luc. Oh Sir, you are deuie'd.

Duke. 'Tis not poffible.

Luc. Who, not the Duke ? Yes, your beggar of ſſity:
and his vſe was, to put a ducket in her Clack-difſ; the
Duke had Crochets in him. Hee would be drunke too,
that let me informe you.

Duke. You do him wrong, ſurely.

Luc. Sir, I vvas an inward of his: a ſhie fellow vvas
the Duke, and I beleee I know the cauſe of his vwith-
drawing.

Duke. What (I prethee) might be the cauſe?

Luc. No, pardon: T is a ſecret muſt bee lockt within the teeth and the lippes: but this I can let you vnderſand, the greater file of the ſubieſt held the Duke to be vſive.

Duke. Wile? Why no queſtion but he was.

Luc. A very ſuperficial, ignorant, vnweighing ſellow

Duke. Either this is Enne in you, Folly, or miftak-
ing: The very ſtreame of his life, and the buſineſſe he
hath helmed, muſt vpon a warranted neeile, give him
a better proclamation. Let him be but ſeſtimioned in
his ownne bringings forth, and hee ſhall appeare to the
enuious, a Scholler, a Stateſman, and a Soldier: there-
fore you ſpeake vnſkilfully: or, if your knowledge bee
more, it is much darkned in your malice.

G

Luc.

74

Meaſure for Meaſure.

Luc. Sir, I know him, and I loue him.

Duke. Loue talks with better knowledge, & know-
ledge with deare loue.

Luc. Come Sir, I know what I know.

Duke. I can hardly believe that, since you know not
what you speak. But if euer the Duke returne (as our
praiers are he may) let mee defire you to make your an-
swer before him : if it bee honest you have spoke, you
haue courage to maintaine it; I am bound to call vpon
you, and I pray you your name?

Luc. Sir, my name is Lucio, well known to the Duke.

Duke. He shall know you better Sir, if I may line to report you.

Luc. I feare you not.

Duke. O you hope the Duke will returne no more:
or you imagine me to vnhurtfull an opposite: but indeed
I can doe you little harme: You'll for-swearre this a-
gaine?

Luc. He be hang'd first: Thou art deceu'd in mee
Friar. But no more of this: Canst thou tell if Clandio
die to morrow, or no?

Duke. Why should he die Sir?

Luc. Why? For filling a bottle with a Tunne: diſh:
I would the Duke we talke of were return'd againe: this
vngenitur'd Agent will vn-people the Province with
Continencie. Sparrowes muſt not build in his houe-
ceues, becauſe they are lecherous: The Duke yet would
haue darke deeds darkelie anſwered, hee would neuer
bring them to light: would hee were return'd, Matrie
this Clandio is condemned for vntruffing. Farwell good
Friar, Ipreethee pray for me: The Duke (I fay to thee
againe) would eate Mutton on Fridaies. He's now paſt
it, yet (and I fay to thee) hee would mouth with a beg-
gar, though he ſimelt browne-bread and Garlicke: lay
that I faid to: Farewell.

Exit.

Duke. No might, nor greatneſſe in mortality
Can cenſure ſcapc: Back-wounding calumnie
The whiteſt vertue strikes: What King ſo strong,
Can tie the gall vp in the flanderous tong?
But who comes here?

Enter Eſcuelu, Pronoſt, and Bawd.

Eſc. Go, away with her to prifon.

Bawd. Good my Lord be good to mee, your Honor
is accounted a merciſul man: good my Lord.

Eſc. Double, and trebble admonition, and fill for-
ſeife in the fame kindle: This would make mercy ſwearre
and play the Tirant.

Pro. A Bawd of eleuen yeares continuance, may it pleafe your Honor.

Bawd. My Lord, this is one Lucio's information a-
gainſt me, Miftris Kate Keepe-downe was with childe by
him in the Dukes time, he promis'd her marriage : his
Childe is a yeere and a quarter olde come Philip and Is-
cob: I haue kept it my ſelfe, and ſee how hee goes about
to abufe me.

Eſc. That fellow is a fellow of much Liceſe : Let
him be call'd before vs. Away with her to prifon: Goe
too, no more words. Prouoſt, my Brother Angelo will
not be alter'd, Clandio muſt die to morrow: Let him be
furniſh'd with Diuines, and haue all charitable prepara-
tion. If my brother wrought by my pitie, it should not
be ſo with him.

Pro. So pleafe you, this Friar hath beene with him,
and aduis'd him for th'entertainment of death.

Eſc. Good'euen, good Father.

Duke. Bliffe, and goodneſſe on you.

Eſc. Of whence are you?

Duke. Not of this Countrie, though my chance is now
to vſe it for my time: I am a brother
Of gracious Order, late come from the Sea,
In ſpeciall buſineſſe from his Holinesſe.

Eſc. What newes abroad i'th World?

Duke. None, but that there is ſo great a Feauor on
goodneſſe, that the diſolution of it muſt eure it. No-
uelte is onely in requeſt, and as it is as dangerous to be
aged in any kinde of course, as it is vertuous to be con-
ſtant in any vndertaking. There is ſearſe truth enough
alue to make Societies ſecure, but Securitie enough to
make Fellowships accurſt: Much vpon this riddle runs
the wifedome of the world: This newes is old enough,
yet it is euerie daies newes. I pray you Sir, of what diſ-
poſition was the Duke?

Eſc. One, that aboue all other ſtrifes,
Contended especially to know himſelfe.

Duke. What pleafure was he giuen to?

Eſc. Rather reioycing to ſee another merry, theu
mervie at anie thing which proſteat to make him reioice.
A Gentleman of all temperance. But leaue wee him to
his events, with a prauer they may prove prosperous, &
let me defire to know, how you ſinde Clandio prepa'r'd:
I am made to vnderſtand, that you haue lent him viſita-
tion.

Duke. He proſeſſes to haue receiued no finifter mea-
fure from his ludge, but muſt willingly humbles him-
ſelſe to the determination of Iuſtice : yet had he framed
to himſelfe (by the inſtruction of his frailty) manie de-
ceyuing promifes of life, which J (by my good leifure)
haue diſcredited to him, and now is he reſolu'd to die.

Eſc. You haue paid the heauens your Function, and
the prifoner the verie debt of your Calling. I haue la-
bour'd for the poore Gentleman, to the extremest ſhore
of my mod ſeſſe, but my brother-Iuſtice haue I found ſo
ſeuere, that he hath forc'd me to tell him, hee is indeede
Iuſtice.

Duke. If his owne life,
Anſwere the ſtraitneſſe of his proceeding,
It shall become him well: wherein if he chance to ſaile
he hath ſentenc'd himſelfe.

Eſc. I am going to visit the prifoner, Fare you well.

Duke. Peace be with you.

He who the ſword of Heauen will beare,

Should be as hony, as ſeuere:

Patterne in himſelſe to know,

Grace to land, and Vertue go:

More, nor leſſe to others paying,

Then by ſelfe-offences weighing.

Shame to him, whose cruell strikings,

Kils for faults of his ſwne liking:

Twice trebble ſhame on Angelo,

To veede my vice, and let his grow.

Oh, what may Man within him hide,

Though Angel on the ouward ſide?

How may likeneſſe made in crimes,

Making prætife on the Times,

To draw with ydle Spiders ſtings

Moft ponderous and ſubſtantill things?

Craſt againſt vice, I muſt applie

With Angelo to night ſhall lye

His old betroathed (but deſpited),

So diſguſe ſhall by th'diſguſed

Pay with falſhood, ſaſſe exacting,

And performe an olde contracting.

EXI
Actu

Measure for Measure.

75

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Mariana, and Boy singing.

Song.

Take, oh take those lips away,
that so sweetly were forsworne,

And those eyes : the breake of day
lights that doe mislead theorne;

But my kisses bring againe, bring againe,
Scales of love, but seal'd in vames, seal'd in vaine.

Enter Duke.

Mar. Breake off thy fong, and haſſe thee quick away,
Here comes a man of comfort, whose aduice
Hath often fill'd my brawling discontent.

I cry you mercie, Sir, and well could I

You had not found me here so musicall.

Let me excuse me, and beleeue me for,
My mirth it much duplea'd, but plea'd my woe.

Duk. 'Tis good; though Mufick oft hath such a charme
To make bad, good; and good prouoake to harme.

I pray you tell me, hath any body enquir'd for mee here
to day; much vpon this time haue I promis'd here to
meete.

Mar. You haue not bin enquir'd after : I haue fat
here all day.

Enter Isabell.

Duk. I doe contantly beleeue you : the time is come
euen now. I fhall craue your forbearance alittle, may be
I will call vpon you anone for some aduantage to your
felfe.

Mar. I am always bound to you.

Exit.

Duk. Very well met, and well come :

What is the newes from this good Deputie?

Ifab. He hath a Garden circummurd'd with Bricke,
Whose weſterne ſide is with a Vineyard back't;
And to that Vineyard is a planched gate,

That makes his opening with this bigger Key :

This other doth command a little doore,
Which from the Vineyard to the Garden leades,
There haue I made my promife, vpon the
Heauy midle of the night, to call vpon him.

Duk. But ſhall you on your knowledge find this way?

Ifab. I haue tane a due, and wary note vpon't,
With whispering, and moſt guiltie diligence,
In action all of precept, he did show me
The way twice ore.

Duk. Are there no other tokens

Betweene you 'greed, concerning her obſeruance?

Ifab. No: none but onely a repaire ith' darke,
And that I haue poſſed him, my moſt ſtay

Can be but briefe: for I haue made him know,

I haue a Seruant comes with me along

That ſtaies vpon me; whose perſwafion is,
I come about my Brother.

Duk. 'Tis well borne vp.

I haue not yet made knowne to Mariana
Enter Mariana.

A word of this: what hoa, within; come forth,
I pray you be acquainted with this Maid,
She comes to doe you good.

Ifab. I doe defiſe the like.

Duk. Do you perſwade your ſelfe that I reſpect you?

Mar. Good Frier, I know you do, and haue found it.
Duke. Take then this your companion by the hand

Who hath a ſtorie readie for your care :

I ſhall attend your leifure, but make haſſe

The vaporous night approaches.

Mar. Wilt please you walke afide.

Exit.

Duke. Oh Place, and greatnes : millions of false eyes
Are flucke vpon thee: volumes of report

Run with theſe falſe, and moſt contrarious Quaſt

Vpon thy doings: thouſand ſtapes of witt

Make thee the father of their idle dreameſ,

And racke thee in their fancies. Welcome, how agreed?

Enter Mariana and Isabella.

Ifab. Shee'll take the enterprize vpon her father,
If you aduife it.

Duke. It is not my conſent,
But my entreaty too.

Ifab. Little haue you to ſay
When you depart from him, but ſoft and low,
Remember now my brother.

Mar. Feare me not.

Duk. Nor gentle daughter, ſcare you not at all :
He is your husband on a pre-contracſt :

To bring you thus together't is no finne,

Sith that the Iuſtice of your title to him

Doth flourish the deceit. Come, let vs goe,

Our Corne's to reape, for yet our Tithes to ſow. Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Pronſon and Clowne.

Pro. Come hither firſa ; can you cut off a mans head?

Clo. If the man be a Bachelor, Sir, I can :

But if he be a married man, he's his wiues head,

And I can neuer cut off a womans head.

Pro. Come fir, leaue me your Snatches, and yeeld mee
a direct anſwere. To morrow morning are to die Clau-
dio and Barnardine : heere is in our prifon a common exe-
cutioner, who in his office lacks a helper, if you will take
it on you to affiſt him, it ſhall redeem you from your
Gyues: if not, you ſhall haue your full time of imprifon-
ment, and your deliuerance with an vnptittied whipping;
for you haue beene a notorious bawd.

Clo. Sir, I haue beene an vnlawfull bawd, time out of
minde, but yet I will bee content to be a lawfull hang-
man: I would bee glad to receiue ſome inſtruction from
my fellow partner.

Pro. What hoa, Abhorſon : where's Abhorſon there?

Enter Abhorſon.

Abb. Doe you call fir ?

Pro. Sirha, here's a fellow will helpe you to morrow
in your execution : if you thinke it meet, compound with
him by the yeere, and let him abide here with you, if not,
vſe him for the preſent, and diſmiſſe him, hee cannot
plead his eſtimation with you : he hath beene a Bawd.

Abb. A Bawd Sir? ſie vpon him, he will diſcredit our
mſterie.

Pro. Goe too Sir, you waigh equallie: a feather will
turne the Scale. Exit.

Clo. Pray fir, by your good fauor : for ſurely fir, a
good fauor you haue, but that you haue a hanging look :
Doe you call fir, your occupation a Myſteric?

G2

Abh. I,

76

Measure for Measure.

Abb. I, Sir, a Misterie.

Clo. Painting Sir, I have heard say, is a Misterie; and
your Whores fir, being members of my occupation, v-
sing painting, do proue my Occupation, a Misterie; but
what Misterie there should be in hanging, if I should
be hang'd, I cannot imagine.

Abb. Sir, it is a Misterie.

Clo. Proofe.

Abb. Enerie true mans apparrell fits your Theefe.

Clo. If it be too little for your theefe, your true man thinkes it bigge enough. If it bee too bigge for your Theefe, your Theefe thinkes it little enough: So euerie true mans apparrell fits your Theefe.

Enter Prouoſt.

Pro. Are you agreed?

Clo. Sir, I will ferue him: For I do finde your Hang-
man is a more penitent Trade then your Bawd: he doth
ofiner aske forgiueneſſe.

Pro. You tirrah, prouide your blocke and your Axe
to morrow, foure a clocke.

Abb. Come on (Bawd) I will inſtruct thee in my
Trade : follow.

Clo. I do deſire to leane fir: and I hope, if you haue
occafion to vſe me for your owne turne, you ſhall finde
me y're. For truly fir, for your kindneſſe, I owe you a
good turne.

Exit

Pro. Call hether Barnardine and Claudio :

Th'one has my pitie; not a iot the other,

Being a Murtherer, though he were my brother.

Enter Claudio.

Looke, here's the Warrant Claudio, for thy death,
'Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to morrow

Thou muſt be made immortall. Where's Barnardine ?

Cla. As faſt lock'd vp in sleepe, as guiltleſſe labour,
When it lies ſtarkely in the Trauellers bones,
He will not wake.

Pro. Who can do good on him ?

Well, go, prepare your ſelſe. But harke, what noife?

Heauen giue your ſpirits comfort : by, and by,

I hope it is ſome pardon, or repreeue

For the moſt gentle Claudio. Welcome Father.

Enter Duke.

Duke. The beſt, and wholſomſt ſpirits of the night,
Inuellop you, good Prouoſt: who call'd heere of late?

Pro. None ſince the Curphow rung.

Duke. Not Isabell?

Pro. No.

Duke. They will then er't be long.

Pro. What comfort is for Claudio ?

Duke. There's ſome in hope.

Pro. It is a bitter Deputie.

Duke. Not ſo, not ſo : his life is paralel'd

Euen with the ſtroke and line of his great Iuſtice :

He doth with holic abſtinention ſubdue

That in himſelſe, which he ſpurres on his powre

To qualife in others : were he meal'd with that

Which he corrects, then were he tirrannous,

But this being ſo, he's iuſt. Now are they come.

This is a gentle Prouoſt, ſildome when

The fleeled Gaoler is the friend of men :

How now? what noife ? That ſpirit's poſſeſt with haſt,
That wounds th' vnſtifting Poſterne with these ſtrokes.

Pro. There he muſt ſtay vntil the Officer
Arife to let him in: he is call'd vp.

Duke. Haue you no countermand for Claudio yet?

But he muſt die to morrow ?

Pro. None Sir, none.

Duke. As neere the dawning Prouoſt, as it is,
You shall heare more ere Morning.

Pro. Happily

You ſomething know : yet I believee there comes

No countermand: no ſuch example haue we:

Befides, vpon the verie ſiege of Iuſtice,

Lord Angelo hath to the publike eare

Proſeet the contrarie.

Enter a Messenger.

Duke. This is his Lords man.

Pro. And heere comes Claudio's pardon.

Mell. My Lord hath ſent you this note,

And by mee this further charge;

That you ſwuer 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.

Pro. I ſhall obey him.

Duke. This is his Pardon purchas'd by ſuch fin,

For which the Pardoner himſelſe is in:
Hence hath offence his quicke celeritie,

When it is borne in high Authority.

When Vice makes Mercie; Mercie's ſo extended,

That for the faults loue, is th'offender friended.

Now Sir, what newes?

Pro. I told you:

Lord Angelo (be-like) thinking me remiffe

In mine Office, awakens mee

With this vnwented putting on, methinks ſtrangely:

For he hath not vs'd it before.

Duk. Pray you let's heare.

The Letter.

What ſoever you may heare to the contrary, let Claudio be ex-
ecuted by ſoure of the clocke, and in the afternoone Bernar-
dine: For my better ſatisfaction, let mee haue Claudio's
head ſent me by ſine. Let this be duly performed with a
thought that more depends on it, then we muſt yet deliuer.
Thus ſaile not to doe your Office, as you will anſwere it at
your perill.

What ſay you to this Sir ?

Duke. What is that Barnardine, who is to be exec-
ted in th'afternoone?

Pro. A Bohemian borne: But here nurſt vp & bred,
One that is a prifoner nine yeeres old.

Duke. How came it, that the abſent Duke had not
either deliuer'd him to his libertie, or executed him? I
haue heard it was euer his manner to do ſo.

Pro. His friends ſtill wrought Repreeues for him:
And indeed his ſaſt till now in the government of Lord
Angelo, came not to an vnſoʊtbful proofe.

Duke. It is now apparent?

Pro. Moſt manifeſt, and not denied by himſelſe.

Duke. Hath he borne himſelſe penitently in prifon?

How ſeemes he to be touch'd ?

Pro. A man that apprehends death no more dread-
fully, but as a drunken sleepe, careleſſe, wreakleſſe, and
feareleſſe of what's paſt, preſent, or to come : inſenſible
of mortality, and desperately mortall.

Duke. He wants aduice.

Pro. He will heare none: he hath euermore had the li-
berity of the prifon: giue him leaue to eſcape hence, hee
would not. Drunkne many times a day, if not many daies
entirely drunke. We haue verie oft awak'd him, as ito
carrie him to execution, and ſhew'd him a ſeeming war-
rant for it, it hath not moued him at all.

Duke.

Measure for Measure.

77

Duke. More of him anon : There is written in your brow Prouot, honesty and constance; if I read it not truly, my ancient skill beguiles me : but in the boldnes of my cunning, I will lay my selfe in hazard : Claudio, whom heere you haue warrant to execute, is no greater forfeit to the Law, then Angelo who hath sentenced him. To make you vnderstand this in a manifest effect, I craue but foure daies reuit : for the which, you are to do me both a prent, and a dangerous courtesie.

Pro. Pray Sir, in what?

Duke. In the delaying death.

Pro. Alacke, how may I do it ? Having the houre limited, and an expreſſe command, vnder penaltie, to deliuer his head in the view of Angelo ? I may make my cafe as Claudio's, to croſſe this in the ſinleft.

Duke. 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.

Pro. Angelo hath ſene them both, And will diſcouer the ſawour.

Duke. Oh, death's a great diſguiler, and you may adde to it ; Shaue the head, and tie the beard, and ſay it was the deſire of the penitent to be so barde before his death : you know the course is common. If any thing fall to you vpon this, more then thankes and good fortune, by the Saint whom I profileſe, I will plead againſt it with my life.

Pro. Pardon me, good Father, it is againſt my oath.

Duke. Were you ſworne to the Duke, or to the Deputie?

Pro. To him, and to his Subſtitutes.

Duke. You will thinke you haue made no offence, if the Duke auouch the iſtice of your dealing?

Pro. But what likelihood is in that?

Duke. Not a reſemblance, but a certainty; yet ſince I fee you ſcarfull, but neither my coate, integrity, nor perſwafion, can with eafe attempt you, I will go further then I meant, to plucke all ſeares out of you. Looke you Sir, here is the hand and Seale of the Duke : you know the Charracter I doubt not, and the Signet is not ſtrange to you?

Pro. I know them both.

Duke. The Contents of this, is the returne of the Duke; you ſhall anon oner-reade at your pleafure : where you ſhall finde within theſe two daies, he wil be here. This is a thing that Angelo knowes not, for hee this very day receiues letters of ſtrange tenor, perchance of the Dukes death, perchance entering into some Monaferie, but by chance nothing of what is writ. Looke, th' vnſolding Starre calles vp the Shepheard; put not your ſelfe into amazement, how theſe things ſhould be; all difficulties are but eafe when they are knowne. Call your executioner, and off with Barnardines head : I will giue him a preſent ſhrift, and auide him for a better place. Yet you are amaz'd, but this ſhall absolutely reſolue you : Come away, it is almost cleere dawne. Exit.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Clowne.

Clo. I am as well acquainted here as I was in our house of profession : one would think it were Miftris

Omer-dons owne house, for heere be manie of her olde Cuftomers. First, here's yong Mr. Raso, hee's in for a commoditie of browne paper, and olde Ginger, nine ſcore and ſeuenteene pounds, of which hee made ſiue Markes readie money: marrie then, Ginger was not much in requeſt, for the olde Women were all dead. Then is there here one Mr. Caper, at the ſuite of Maſter Three-Pile the Mercer, for ſome ſoure ſuites of Peach-colour'd Satten, which now peaches him a beggar. Then haue vve here, yong Dizie, and yong Mr. Deepewow, and Mr. Copperpurre, and Mr. Starue-Lackey the Kapier and dagger man, and yong Drop-beere that kild luſie Pudding, and Mr. Forthlight the Tilter, and braue Mr. Shootie the great Traueller, and wilde Haffe-Canne that ſlab'd Pots, and I thinke ſtie more, all great doers in our Trade, and are now for the Lords ſake.

Enter Abhorson.

Abh. Sirrah, bring Barnardine herſter.

Clo. Mr. Barnardine, you muſt rife and be hang'd, Mr. Barnardine.

Abh. What hoa Barnardine.

Barnardine within.

Bar. A pox o' your throats: who makes that noyſe there? What are you?

Clo. Your friends Sir, the Hangman:

Mr. Muſt be ſo good Sir to rife, and be put to death.

Bar. Away you Rogue, away, I am sleepe.

Abh. Tell him he muſt awake,

And that quickly too.

Clo. Pray Maſter Barnardine, awake till you are ree-c executed, and sleepe afterwards.

Ab. Go in to him, and fetch him out.

Clo. He is comming Sir, he is comming : I heare his Straw ruffle.

Enter Barnardine.

Abh. Is the Axe vpon the blocke, sirrah?

Clo. Verie readie Sir.

Bar. How now Abhor ſaw?

What's the newes vith you?

Abh. Truly Sir, I would deſire you to clap into your prayers: for looke you, the Warrants come.

Bar. You Rogue, I have bin drinking all night, I am not fitted for't.

Clo. Oh, the better Sir: for he that drinkes all night, and is hanged betimes in the morning, may sleepe the founder all the next day.

Enter Duke.

Abh. Looke you Sir, here comes your ghosely Father: do weieſt now thinke you ?

Duke. Sir, induced by my charitie, and hearing how haſtily you are to depart, I am come to auide you, Comfort you, and pray with you.

Bar. Friar, not I: I haue bin drinking hard all night, and I will haue more time to prepare me, or they shall beat out my brains with billets: I will not consent to die this day, that's certaine.

Duke. Oh fir, you muſt: and therefore I beſeeth you. Looke forward on the iournie you ſhall go.

Bar. I ſweare I will not die to day for anie mans perſwafion.

Duke. But heare you:

Bar. Not a word: if you haue anie thing to ſay to me, come to my Ward: for thence will not I to day.

Exit

Enter Pronſon.

Duke. Vnfit to line, or die: oh grauell heart,

G3

After

78

Meaſure for Meaſure.

After him (Fellowes) bring him to the blocke.

Pro. Now Sir, how do you finde the prisoner?

Duke. A creature vnpre-pa'd, vnmeet for death, And to transport him in the minde he is,

Were damnable,

Pro. Heere in the prifon, Father,

There died this morning of a cruell Feauro'r,

One Ragozine, a moſt notorious Pirate,

A man of Claudio's yeares : his beard, and head

Iuſt of his colour. What if we do omit

This Reprobate, til he were wel enclu'd,

And ſatisfie the Deputie with the viſage

Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio?

Duke. Ouh, 'tis an accident that heauen prouides:

Diſpatch it preſently, the houre drawes on.

Prefix by Angelo: See this be done,

And ſent according to command, whiles I

Perſwade this rude wretch willingly to die.

Pro. This shall be done (good Father) preſently :

But Barnardine muſt die this afternoons,

And how ſhall we continue Claudio?

To ſaue me from the danger that might come,

If he were knowne alue?

Duke. Let this be done,

Put them in ſecret holds, both Barnardine and Claudio,

Ere twice the Sun hath made his iournall greeting

To yond generation, you ſhal finde

Your ſafetie maniſethed.

Pro. I am your free dependant.

Exit.

Duke. Quicke, diſpatch, and ſend the head to Angelo.

Now wil I write Letters to Angelo,
(The Prouoft he ſhal beare them) whole contents

Shal witenſe to him I am neere at home :

And that by great Inuicutions I am bound

To enter publikely : him Ile deſire

To meet me at the conſe crated Fount,

A League below the Citie: and from thence,

By cold gradation, and weale-ballanc'd ſorme.

We ſhal proceed with Angelo.

Enter Frouoſt.

Pro. Heere is the head, Ile carrie it my ſelfe.

Duke. Conuenient is it : Make a Swiſt returne,
For I would commune with you of ſuch things,
That want no care but yours.

Pro. Ile make all ſpeede.

Exit.

Isabell within.

Isa. Peace hoa, be heere.

Duke. The tongue of Isabell. She's come to know,
If yet her brothers pardon be come hither :
But I will keepe her ignorant of her good,
To make her heauenly comforts of diſpaire,
When it is leaſt expected.

Enter Isabell.

Isa. Hoa, by your leaue.

Duke. Good morning to you, faire, and gracious daughter.

Isa. The better giuen me by so holy a man,
Hath yet the Deputie ſent my brothers pardon?

Duke. He hath releaſd him, Isabell, from the world,
His head is off, and ſent to Angelo.

Isa. Nay, but it is not so.

Duke. It is no other,

Shew your wifedome daughter in your close patience.

Isa. Oh, I wil to him, and plucke out his eies.

Duk. You ſhal not be admitted to his fight.

Isa. Vnhappie Claudio, wretched Isabell,

Inurious world, moſt damned Angelo.

Duke. This nor hurts him, nor profits you a bit,
Forbeare it therefore, giue your eauſe to heauen,
Marke what I ſay, which you ſhal finde.

By every fillable a faithful veritie.

The Duke comes home to morrow: nay drie your eyes,
One of our Couent, and his Confessor

Gives me this instance: Already he hath carried

Notice to Eſcalus and Angelo,

Who do prepare to meete him at the gates, (dome,
There to giue vp their powre; If you can pate your wif-
In that good path that I would wif it go,
And you ſhal haue your boſome on this wretch,
Grace of the Duke, reuenges to your heart,
And general Honor.

Isa. I am directed by you.

Duk. This Letter then to Friar Peter giue,
'Tis that he ſent me of the Dukes returne:

Say, by this token, I deſire his companie
At Mariana's houſe to night. Her cauſe, and yours
Ile perſeſt him withall, and he ſhal bring you
Before the Duke; and to the head of Angelo
Accuſe him home and home. For my poore ſelfe,
I am combined by a facred Vow,

And shall be absent. Wend you with this Letter:
Command these fretting waters from your eies
With a light heart; truſt not my holie Order
If I peruient your course: whoſe heere?

Enter Lucio.

Luc. Good 'euen;

Friar, where's the Prouoft?

Duke. Not within Sir.

Luc. Oh prettie Isabella, I am pale at mine heart, to fee thine eyes ſo red: thou muſt be patient; I am faire to dine and ſup with water and bran: I dare not for my head fill my belly. One fruitful Meale would ſet mee too't: but they ſay the Duke will be heere to Morrow. By my troth Isabell I lou'd thy brother, if the olde fanтаſtical Duke of darke corners had bene at home, he had liu'd.

Duke. Sir, the Duke is maruiculous little beholding to your reports, but the beſt is, he liues not in them.

Luc. Friar, thou knoweſt not the Duke ſo well as I
do: he's a better woodman then thou tak'st him for.

Duke. Well: you'l anſwer this one day. Fare ye well.

Luc. Nay tarrie, Ile go along with thee,
I can tel thee pretty tales of the Duke.

Duke. You haue 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 childe.

Duke. Did you ſuch a thing?

Luc. Yes, marrie did I; but I was faire to forſwear it,
They would eſſe haue married me to the rotten Medler.

Duke. Sir your company is falter then honest, reſt you well.

Lucio. By my troth Ile go with thee to the lanes end:
If baudy talke offend you, we'el haue very little of it; may
Friar, I am a kind of Burre, I ſhal ſticke.

Exenut

Scena Quarta.

Enter Angelo & Eſcalus.

Eſc. Euery Letter he hath writ, hath diſuouch'd other.

Ang.

Meaſure for Meaſure.

79

Au. In moſt vneuen and diſtraetd manner, his actions
how much like to madneſſe, pray heauen his wisedome
bee not tainted: and why meet him at the gates and re-
liuer ou rauHonities there?

Eſc. Ighſe not.

Ang. And why should wee proclaime is in an howre
before his entring, that if any kraue redreſſe of inuſtice,
they should exhibit their petitions in the ſtreet?

Eſc. He ſhowes his reaſon for that to have a diſpatch
of Complaints, and to deliuer vs from devices heere-
after, which shall then have no power to stand againſt
vs.

Ang. Well; I beſeech you let it bee proclaime'd be-
times i'th' morne, Ile call you at your houſe; giue notice
to ſuch men of fort and ſuite as are to meete him.

Eſc. I ſhall fit: ſare you well.

Exit.

Ang. Good night.

This deede vnſhapes me quite, makes me unpregnant
And dull to all proceedings. A deſlowrd maid,
And by an eminent body, that enforc'd
The Law againſt it: But that her tender ſhame
Will not proclaime againſt her maiden loſſe,
How might she tongue me? yet reaſon dares her no,
For my Authority beares of a credent bulke,
That no particular ſcandall once can touch
But it confounds the breather. He should haue liu'd,
Sauē that his riotous youth with dangerous ſense
Might in the times to come haue ta'n reuengue
By ſo receiving a diſhonour'd life.

With ransome of ſuch ſhame: would yet he had liued,
Alack, when once our grace we haue forgot,

Nothing goes right, we would, and we would not. Exit.

## Scena Quinta.

Enter Duke and Frier Peter.

Duke. These Letters at fit time deliuer me.

The Prouſt knowes our purpofe and our piet,
The matter being a ſoſte, keepe your inſtruction
And hold you euer to our ſpeciall drift,

Though ſometimes you doe blench from this to that

As cauſe doth minifier: Goe call at Flaviana's houſe,
And tell him where I stay: giue the like notice
To Valencina, Rowland, and to Craſſus,
And bid them bring the Trumpets to the gate:
But ſend me Flaviana firſt.

Peter. It ſhall be ſpeeded well.

Enter Varrius.

Duke. I thank thee Varrius, thou haſt made good haſt,

Come, we will walke: There's other of our friends

Will greet vs heere anon: my gentle Varrius. Exeunt.

## Scena Sexta.

Enter Isabella and Marianna.

Ifab. To speak ſo indirectly I am loath,
I would ſay the truth, but to accuſe him for
That is your part, yet I am aduis'd to do it,
He failes, to vail e full purpofe.

Mar. Be rul'd by him.

Ifab. Besides he tells me, that if peraduature
He ſpeake againſt me on the aduerſe ſide,
I should not thinke it ſtrange, for 'tis a phyſicke
That's bitter, to ſweet end.

Enter Peter.

Mar. I would Frier Peter.

Ifab. Oh peace, the Frier is come.

Peter. Come I haue found you out a stand moſt fit,
Where you may haue ſuch vantage on the Duke
He shall not paffe you.

Twice haue the Trumpets founded.

The generous, and graueſt Citizens

Haue hent the gates, and very neere vpon

The Duke is entring :

Therefore hence away.

Exeunt.

Enter Duke, Varrius, Lords, Angelo, Ecalus, Lucio,
Citizens at ſenacoll deores.

Duk. My very worthy Cofen, fairly met,

Our old, and faithful friend, we are glad to ſee you.

Ang. Eſc. Happy returne be to your royall grace,

Duk. Many and harty thankings to you both:

We haue made enquiry of you, and we heare

Such goodneſſe of your Iuſtice, that our ſoule

Cannot but yeeld you forth to publique thankses

Forerunning more requitall.

Ang. You make my bonds fill greater.

Duke. Oh your defert ſpeaks loud, & I should wrong it
To locke it in the wards of courte boſome

When it deferues with charaſters of baffe

A forted ſtidence 'gainſt the tooth of time,

And razure of obliuion: Giue we your hand

And let the Subieſt ſee, to make them know

That outward curſties would fairene proclaime

Fauours that keepe within: Come Eſcalus,

You muſt walke by vs, on our other hand :

And good ſupporters are you:

Enter Peter and Isabella.

Peter. Now is your time

Speake loud, and kneele before him.

Ifab. Iuſtice, O royaſl Duke, vail your regard

Vpon a wrong'd (I would fairene haue (aid a Maid)

Oh worthy Prince, diſhonour not your eye

By throwing it on any other obieſt,

I till you haue heard me, in my true complaint,

And giuen me Iuſtice, Iuſtice, Iuſtice.

Duk. Relate your wrongs;

In what, by whom? be briefe :

Here is Lord Angelo I ſhall giue you Iuſtice,

Reueale your ſelfe to him.

Ifab. Oh worthy Duke,

You bid me ſeeke redemption of the diuell,

Heare me your ſelfe: for that which I muſt ſpeake

Muſt either puniſh me, not being beleeu'd,

Or wring redreſſe from you :

Heare me: oh heere me, heere.

Ang. My Lord, her wits I ſeare me are not firme :

She hath bin a ſuitor to me, for her Brother

Cut off by courfe of Iuſtice.

Ifab. By courſe of Iuſtice.

Ang. And she will ſpeake moſt bitterly, and ſtrange.

Ifab. Moſt

["80", "Measure for Measure.", "*Ifab.* Most strange : but yet most truely will I speake,\nThat Angelo's forworne, is it not strange?", "That Angelo's a murtherer, is't not strange?", "That Angelo is an adulterous thieſe,", "An hypocrite, a virgin violator,", "Is it not strange? and strange?", "*Duke.* Nay it is ten times strange ?", "*Ifa.* It is not truer he is Angelo,", "Then this is all as true, as it is strange ;", "Nay, it is ten times true, for truth is truth", "To th'end of reckning.", "*Duke.* Away with her: poore foule.", "She speakes this, in th'infirmity of fence.", "*Ifa.* Oh Prince, I coniure thee, as thou beleeuſt", "There is another comfort, then this world,", "That thou neglect me not, with that opinion", "That I am touch'd with madneſſe : make not impoffible", "That which but ſeemes vnlike, 'tis not impoffible", "But one, the wicked caitiffe on the ground", "May ſeeme as ſhie, as graue, as iuſt, as abſolute :", "As Angelo, even to may Angelo", "In all his dreibings, caracts, ticles, formes,", "Be an arch-villaine : Bel eeue it, royall Prince", "If he be leſſe, he's nothing, but he's more,", "Had I more name for badneſſe.", "*Duke.* By mine honesty.", "If she be mad, as I beleeue no other,", "Her madneſſe hath the oddeſt frame of ſenſe,", "Such a dependancy of thing, on thing,", "As ere I heard in madneſſe.", "*Ifab.* Oh gracious Duke", "Harpe not on that; nor do not baniſh reaſon", "For inequality, but let your reaſon ferue.", "To make the truth appeare, where it ſeemes hid,", "And hide the ſalſe ſeemes true.", "*Duk.* Many that are not mad", "Haue ſure more lacke of reaſon :", "What would you ſay ?", "*Ifab.* I am the Sifter of one (Claudio,\nCondemn vpon the Act of Fornication\nTo looke his head, condemn'd by Angelo,\nI, (in probation of a Sifterhood).", "Was ſent to by my Brother ; one Lucio", "As then the Meſſenger.", "*Luc.* That's I, and't like your Grace :", "I came to her from Claudio, and defir'd her,", "To try her gracious fortung with Lord Angelo,", "For her poore Brothers pardon.", "*Ifab.* That's he indeede.", "*Duk.* You were not bid to ſpeake.", "*Luc.* No, my good Lord,", "Nor wifh'd to hold my peace.", "*Duk.* I wifh you now then,", "Pray you take note of it: and when you haue", "A buſineſſe for your ſelfe : pray heauen you then", "Be perfect.", "*Luc.* I warrant your honor.", "*Duk.* The warrant's for your ſelfe: take heede to't.", "*Ifab.* This Gentleman told ſomewhat of my Tale,", "*Luc.* Right.", "*Duk.* It may be right, but you are i'the wrong", "To speake before your time : proceed,", "*Ifa.* I went", "To this pernicious Caitiffe Deputie.", "*Duk.* That's ſomewhat madly ſpoken.", "*Ifab:* Pardon it,", "The phrase is to the matter.", "*Duke.* Mended againe : the matter : proceed.", "*Ifab.* In briefe, to ſet the needleſſe proceſſe by :", "How I perſwaded, how I praid, and kneel'd,", "How he refeld me, and how I replide", "(For this was of much length) the vild conclusion", "I now begin with griefe, and ſhame to vtter.", "He would not, but by gift of my chaſte body", "To his concupiſeible intemperate luſt", "Releaſe my brother; and after much debatement,", "My ſiſterly remorſe, confutes mine honour,", "And I did yeeld to him : But the next morne betimes,", "His purpose ſurſetting, he ſends a warrant", "For my poore brothers head.", "*Duke.* This is moſt likely.", "*Ifab.* Oh that it were as like as it is true. (I speak it,", "Duk. By heauen (fond wretch) knowſt not whathou", "Or eſſe thou art ſuborn'd againſt his honor", "In hatefull præſtife : first his Integritie", "Stands without blemiſh : next it imports no reaſon,", "That with ſuch vehemency he ſhould purſue", "Faults proper to himſelfe : if he had ſo offended", "He would haue waigh'd thy brother by himſelfe,", "And not haue cut him off: ſome one hath ſet you on:", "Confelle the truth, and ſay by whose aduice", "Thou cam't heere to complain.", "*Ifab.* And is this all?", "Then oh you bleſſed Minifers about", "Keepe me in patience, and with ripen'd time", "Vnfold the cuill, which is heere wrap't vp", "In countenance : heauen ſhield your Grace from woe,", "As I thus wrong'd, hence vnbeleeued goe.", "*Duke.* I know you'd faine be gone: An Officer :", "To prifon with her : Shall we thus permit", "A blaping and a ſcandalous breath to fall,", "On him to neere vs? This needs must be a præſtife;", "Who knew of your intent and comming hither?", "*Ifa.* One that I would were heere, Frier Lodowick.", "*Duk.* A ghaffly Father, belike :", "Who knowes that Lodowickes?", "*Luc.* My Lord, I know him, 'tis a medling Fryer,", "I doe not like the man : had he been Lay my Lord,", "For certaine words I ſpake againſt your Grace", "In your retirement, I had ſwing'd him foundly.", "*Duke.* Words againſt mee? this 'a good Fryer belike", "And to ſet on this wretched woman here", "Againſt my Subſtitute : Let this Fryer be found.", "*Luc.* But yesternight my Lord, he and that Fryer", "I faw them at the prifon : a fawcy Fryar,", "A very ſcuruy fellow.", "*Peter.* Bleſſed be your Royall Grace :", "I haue ſtood by my Lord, and I hane heard", "Your royall eare abus'd: firſt hath this woman", "Moſt wrongfully accus'd your Subſtitute,", "Who is as free from touch, or ſeyle with her", "As ſhe from one vngot.", "*Duke.* We did beleeue no leſſe.", "Know you that Frier Lodowick that ſhe ſpeakes of?", "*Peter.* I know him for a man diuine and holy,", "Not ſcuruy, nor a temporary medler", "As he's reported by this Gentleman :", {"bbox": [

Measure for Measure.

81

Of a strange Feaure: upon his meere request
Being come to knowledge, that there was complaint
Intended gainst Lord *Angelo*, came I hether
To *speake* as from his mouth, what he doth know
Is true, and false: And what he with his oath
And all probation will make vp full cleare
When soeuer he's conuenced: First for this woman,
To injure this worthy Noble man
So vulgarly and personally accus'd,
Her shall you heare disproued to her eyes,
Till she her selfe confesse it.

Duk. Good Frier, let's heare it:
Doe you not smile at this, Lord *Angelo*?
Oh heauen, the vanity of wretched fooles.
Gise vs some feates, Come colen *Angelo*,
In this I'll be impartial: be you Iudge
Of your owne Caufe: Is this the Witnes Frier?

*Enter Mariana.*

First, let her shew your face, and after, *speake*.

Mar. Pardon my Lord, I will not shew my face
Vntill my husband bid me.

Duke. What, are you married?

Mar. No my Lord.

Duke. Are you a Maid ?

Mar. No my Lord.

Duk. A Widow then ?

Mar. Neither, my Lord.

Duk. Why you are nothing then: neither Maid, W idow, nor Wife?

Luc. My Lord, she may be a Puncke : for many of them, are neither Maid, Widow, nor Wife.

Duk. Silence that fellow: I would he had some caufe to prattle for himselfe.

Luc. Well my Lord.

Mar. My Lord, I doe confesse I nere was married,
And I confesse befides, I am no Maid,
I haue known my husband, yet my husband
Knowes not, that euer he knew me.

Luc. He was drunk then, my Lord, it can be no better.

Duk. For the benefit of silence, would thou wert so to

Luc. Well, my Lord.

Duk. This is no witnessle for Lord *Angelo*.

Mar. Now I come to't, my Lord.

Shee that accufes him of Fornication,
In selfe-fame manner, doth accufe my husband,
And charges him, my Lord, with such a time,
When I'le depose I had him in mine Armes
With all th' effect of Loue.

Ang. Charges she moe then me?

Mar. Not that I know.

Duk. No? you fay your husband.

Mar. Why iuft, my Lord, and that is *Angelo*,
Who thinkes he knowes, that he nere knew my body,
But knows, he thinkes, that he knowes *Isabels*.

Ang. This is a strange abuse: Let's see thy face.

Mar. My husband bids me, now I will vnmaske.
This is that face, thou cruell *Angelo*
Which once thou worſt, was worth the looking on:
This is the hand, which with a vowd contract
Was ſaft belockt in thine: This is the body
That tooke away the match from *Isabell*.

And did fluppy thee at thy garden-house
In her Imagin'd perſon,

Duke. Know you this woman?

Luc. Carnallie she faies,

Duk. Sirha, no more.

Luc. Enoug my Lord.

Ang. My Lord, I muſt confesse, I know this woman,
And ſiue yeres ſince then was ſome ſpeech of marriage
Betwixt my ſelfe, and her: which was broke off,
Partly for that her promis'd proportions
Came ſhort of Compoſition: But in chieſe
For that her reputation was diſ-valued
In leuitie: Since which time of ſiue yeres
I neuer ſpake with her, ſaw her, nor heard from her
Vpon my faith, and honor.

Mar. Noble Prince,
As there comes light from heauen, and words ſro breather,
As there is fence in truth, and truth in vertue,
I am affianced this mans wife, as strongly
As words could make vp vowes: And my good Lord,
But Tuesday night laſt gon, in's garden house,
He knew me as a wife. As this is true,
Let me in safety raife me from my knees,
Or eſſe for euer be confixed here
A Marble Monument.

Ang. I did but ſmile till now,
Now, good my Lord, giue me the ſcope of Juſtice,
My patience here is touch'd: I doe perceiue
These poore informall women, are no more
But instruments of ſome more mightier member
That fet them on. Let me haue way, my Lord
To finde this practice out.

Duke. I, with my heart,
And punish them to your height of pleasure.
Thou foolish Frier, and thou pernicious woman
Compaſt with her that's gone: thinkſt thou, thy oathes,
Though they would ſwear downe each particular Saint,
Were teſtimonies against his worth, and credit
That's ſeal'd in approbation? you, Lord *Ecalisa*
Sit with my Cozen, lend him your kinde paines
To finde out this abuse, whence 'tis deriu'd.
There is another Frier that fet them on,
Let him be ſent for.

Peter. Would he were here, my Lord, for he indeed
Hath fet the women on to this Complaint;
Your Prououſt knowes the place where he abides,
And he may fetch him.

Duke. Goe, doe it instantly :
And you, my noble and well-warranted Colen
Whom it concernes to heare this matter forth,
Doe with your inuities as ſees you beſt
In any chaſtife ment; I for a while
Will leaue you; but fir not you till you haue
Well determin'd vpon theſe Slanderers.

Exit.

Eſc. My Lord, we'll doe it throughly: Signior Lu-
cio, did not you ſay you knew that Frier *Lodomick* to be a
dihoneſt perſon?

Luc. *Cucullus non facit Monachum*, honest in nothing
but in his Clothes, and one that hath ſpoke moſt villa-
nous ſpeeches of the Duke.

Eſc. We ſhall intreat you to abide hereere till he come,
and inſorce them againſt him: we ſhall finde this Frier a
notable fellow.

Luc. As any in *Vienna*, on my word.

Eſc. Call that fame *Isabell* here once againe, I would
*speake* with her: pray you, my Lord, giue mee leaue to
queſtion, you ſhall fee how Ile handle her.

Luc. Not better then he, by her owne report.

Eſc. Say you?

Luc. Marry fir, I thinke, if you handled her privately
ſhee

82

Measure for Measure.

She would sooner confesse, perchance publikely she'll be
afham'd.

Enter Duke, Prouoft, Isabella.

Eſc. I will goe darkely to worke with her.

Luc. That's the way: for women are light at mid-
night.

Eſc. Come on Miftris, here's a Gentlewoman,
Denies all that you haue faid.

Luc. My Lord, here comes the rafcall I spoke of,
Here, with the Prouoſt.

Eſc. In very good time: ſpeak not you to him, till
we call vpon you.

Luc. Mum.

Eſc. Come Sir, did you fet these women on to flan-
der Lord Angelo? they haue confed they did.

Duk. 'Tis false.

Eſc. How? Know you where you are?

Duk. Reſpect to your great place; and let the diuell
Be sometime honour'd, for his burning throne.

Where is the Duke? 'tis he should heare me ſpeak.

Eſc. The Duke's in vs: and we will heare you ſpeak,
Looke you ſpeake iuſtly.

Duk. Boldly, at least. But oh poore foules,
Come you to ſeeke the Lamb here of the Fox;
Good night to your redrefle: Is the Duke gone?
Then is your caufe gone too: The Duke's vniuſt,
Thus to resort your manifeſt Appeale,
And put your triall in the villaines mouth,
Which here you come to accufe.

Luc. This is the rafcall: this is he I spoke of.

Eſc. Why thou vnreuerend, and vnhallowed Fryer:
Is not enough thou haſt suborn'd these women,
To accufe this worthy man? but in foule mouth,
And in the witneſſe of his proper care,
To call him villaine; and then to glance from him,
To th' Duke himselfe, to taxe him with Iouiſtice ?

Take him hence; to th' racke with him: we'll towze; you
Ioynt by ioynt, but we will know his purpofe:
What ? vniuſt?

Duk. Be not so hot: the Duke dare

No more fletch this finger of mine, then he
Dare racke his owne: his Subieſt am I nor,
Nor here Prouinciall: My buſineſſe in this State
Made me a looker on here in Vienna,
Where I haue ſeene corruption boyle and bubble,
Till it ore-run the Stew: Lawes, for all faults,
But faults ſo countenanc'd, that the ſtrong Statutes
Stand like the forfeites in a Barbers ſhop,
As much in mocke, as marke.

Eſc. Slander to th' State:
Away with him to prifon.

Ang. What can you vouch againſt him Signior Lucio?
Is this the man that you did tell vs of?

Luc. 'Tis he, my Lord: come hither goodman bald-
pate, doe you know me?

Duk. I remember you Sir, by the found of your voice,
I met you at the Prifon, in the abſence of the Duke,

Luc. Oh, did you ſo? and do you remember what you
said of the Duke.

Duk. Moſt notedly Sir.

Luc. Do you ſo Sir: And was the Duke a fleſh-mon-
ger, a foolc, and a coward, as you then reported him
to be?

Duk. You muſt (Sir) change perſons with me, ere you
make that my report; you indeed ſpoke ſo of him, and

much more, much worſe.

Lmc. Oh thou damnable fellow: did not I plucke thee
by the noſe, for thy ſpeeches?

Duk. I protest, I loue the Duke, as I loue my ſelfe.

Ang. Harke how the villaine would close now, after
his treaſonable abufes.

Eſc. Such a fellow is not to be talk'd withall: Away
with him to prifon: Where is the Prouoſt? away with
him to prifon: lay bolts enough vpon him: let him ſpeak
no more: away with thofe Giglets too, and with the o-
ther confederate companion.

Duk. Stay Sir, stay a while.

Ang. What, reſifts he? helpe him Lucio.

Luc. Come fir, come fir, come fir: fo fir, why you
bald-pated lying rafcall: you muſt be hooded muſt you?
ſhow your knaues viſage with a poxe to you: ſhow your
ſhcepe-biting ſace, and be hang'd an houre: will't
not off?

Duk. Thou art the firſt knaue, that ere mad'ſt a Duke.
Firſt Prouoſt, let me bayle theſe gentle three:
Sneake not away Sir, for the Fryer, and you,
Muſt haue a word anon: lay hold on him.

Luc. This may proue worſe then hanging.

Duk. What you haue ſpoke, I pardon: fit you downe,
We'll borrow place of him; Sir, by your leaue:
Ha'ſt thou or word, or wit, or impudence,
That yet can doe thee office ? If thou ha'ſt
Rely vpon it, till my tale be heard,
And hold no longer out.

Ang. Oh, my dread Lord,
I ſhould be guiltier then my guiltineſſe,
To thinke I can be vndifferencable,
When I perceive your grace, like powre diuine,
Hath look'd vpon my paffes. Then good Prince,
No longer Session hold vpon my ſhame,
But let my Triall, be mine owne Conſeſſion:
Immediate ſentence then, and ſequent death,
Is all the grace I beg.

Duk. Come hither Mariana,
Say: was't thou ere contracted to this woman?

Ang. I was my Lord.

Duk. Goe take her hence, and marry her inſtantly.
Doe you the office (Fryer) which confuſionate,
Returne him here againe: goe with him Prouoſt. Exit,
Eſc. My Lord, I am more amaz'd at his diſhonor,

Then at the ſtrangeneſſe of it.

Duk. Come hither Isabell,
Your Frier is now your Lord: As I was then
Aduertifying, and holy to your buſineſſe,
(Not changing heart with habit) I am ſtill,
Aturnied at your feruice.

Isab. Oh giue me pardon

That I, your vassaile, haue imploid, and pain'd
Your vnknowne Soueraigntie.

Duk. You are pardon'd Isabell:
And now, deere Maide, be you as free to vs.

Your Brothers death I know fits at your heart:
And you may maruile, why I obſcur'd my ſelfe,
Labouring to ſaue his life: and would not rather
Make rafh remonſtrance of my hidden powre,
Then let him ſo be loft: oh moſt kinde Maid,
It was the Swift celeritie of his death,
Which I did thinke, with flower foot came on,
That brain'd my purpofe: but peace be with him,
That life is better life paſt fearing death,

Then that which liues to ſeare: make it your comfort,

So

Measure for Measure.

83

So happy is your Brother.

Enter Angelo, Maria, Peter, Pronost.

Ifab. I doe my Lord.

Duk. For this new-maried man approaching here,
Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd
Your well defended honor: you must pardon
For Mariana's fake: But as he adiudg'd your Brother,
Being criminall, in double violation.
Offsacred Chastitie, and of promise-breach,
Thereon dependant for your Brothers life,
The very mercy of the Law eries out
Moft audible, even from his proper tongue.
An Angelo for Claudio, death for death:

Hafe still paies haſt, and leaſure, anſwers leaſure;
Like doth quit like, and Meaſure ſtill for Meaſure:
Then Angelo, thy fault's thus maniſethed;
Which though thou would't deny, deniesthee vantage.
We doe condemne thee to the very Blocke
Where Claudio ſtoop'd to death, and with like haſte.
Away with him.

Mar. Oh my moſt gracious Lord,
I hope you will not mocke me with a husband?

Duk. It is your husband mock't you with a husband,
Confering to the ſafe-guard of your honor,
I thought your marriage ſit: eſe Imputation,
For that he knew you, might reproach your life,
And choake your good to come: For his Poffeffions,
Although by confutation they are ours;
We doe en-ſtate, and widow you with all,
To buy you a better husband.

Mar. Oh my deere Lord,
I craue no other, nor no better man.

Duke. Neuer craue him, we are definitiue.

Mar. Gentle my Liege.

Duke. You doe but loofe your labour.

Away with him to death: Now Sir, to you.

Mar. Oh my good Lord, ſweet Ifabell, take my part,
Lend me your knees, and all my life to come,
I'll lend you all my life to doe you ſeruice.

Duke. Ainaſt all fence you doe importune her,
Should ſhe kneele downe, in mercie of this ſaſt,
Her Brothers ghoff, his paſed bed would breake,
And take her hence in horror.

Mar. Ifabell:

Sweet Ifabel, doe yet but kneele by me,
Hold vp your hands, ſay nothing: I'll ſpeake all.
They ſay beſt men are moulded out of ſaults,
And for the moſt, become much more the better
For being a little bad: So may my husband.

Oh Ifabel: will you not lend a knee?

Duke. He dies for Claudio's death.

Ifab. Moſt bounteous Sir.

Looke if it pleafe you, on this man condemn'd,

As if my Brother liu'd: I partly thinke,

A due ſinceritie gouerned his deedes,

Till he did looke on me: Since it is ſo,
Let him not die: my Brother had but luſtice,
In that he did the thing for which he dide.

For Angelo, his Act did not ore-take his bad intent,
And muſt be buried but as an intent

That perih'd by the way: thoughts are no ſubieſts
Intents, but meereſly thoughts.

Mar. Meereſly my Lord.

Duk. Your ſuite's vnprofitable: ſtand vp I ſay:
I haue bethought me of another ſault.

Pronoſſ, how came it Claudio was beheaded

At an vnvuſuall howre?

Pro. It was commanded ſo.

Duke. Had you a ſpeciall warrant for the deed?

Pro. No my good Lord: it was by priu ate meſſage.

Duk. For which I doe discharge you of your office,

Gie vp your keyes.

Pro. Pardon me, noble Lord,

I thought it was a ſault, but knew it not,

Yet did repent me after more aduice,

For reſtimony whereof, one in the prifon

That ſhould with priu ate order eſſe haue dide,

I haue referu'd aliume.

Duk. What's he?

Pro. His name is Barnardine.

Duke. I would thou hadt done ſo by Claudio:

Goe fetch him hither, let me looke vpon him.

Eſe. I am forry, one ſo learned, and ſo wife

As you, Lord Angelo, haue ſtill appear'd,
Should ſlip ſo groſſelie, both in the heat of bloud
And lacke of temper'd iuſudgement afterward.

Ang. I am forrie, that ſuch forſor I procure,
And ſo deepe ſicks it in my penitent heart,
That I crue death more willingly then mercy,
'Tis my deferuing, and I doe entreat it.

Enter Barnardine and Pronoſſ, Claudio, Iuliet.

Duke. Which is that Barnardine?

Pro. This my Lord.

Duke. There was a Friar told me of this man.

Sirha, thou art ſaid to haue a ſtubborne ſoule

That apprehends no further then this world,

And ſquarſt thy life according: Thou'rt condemn'd,

But for thofe earthly ſaults, I quit them all,

And pray thee take this mercie to provide

For better times to come: Frier aduife him,

I leaue him to your hand. What muffe fellow's that?

Pro. This is another prifoner that I ſau'd,
Who should haue di'd when Claudio loſt his head,

As like almoſt to Claudio, as himſelfe.

Duke. If he be like your brother, for his ſake

Is he pardon'd, and for your louelie ſake

Gie me your hand, and ſay you will be mine,

He is my brother too: But ſitter time for that:

By this Lord Angelo perceives he's ſafe,

Methinkes I fee a quicckning in his eye:

Well Angelo, your cuill quits you well.

Looke that you loue your wife: her worth, worth yours

I finde an apt remission in my ſelſe.

And yet here's one in place I cannot pardon,
You firha, that knew me for a ſoole, a Coward,
One all of Luxurie, an aſſe, a mad man:

Wherein haue I ſo deferu'd of you

That you extoll me thus?

Luc. 'Faith my Lord, I ſpoke it but according to the
trick: if you will hang me for it you may: but I had ra-
ther it would pleafe you, I might be whipt.

Duke. Whipt firſt, fir, and hang'd after.
Proclaime it Prouoſ round about the Citie;
If any woman wrong'd by this lew'd ſellow
(As I haue heard him ſweare himſelfe there's one
whom he begot with childe) let her appeare,
And he ſhall marry her: the nuptiall ſinſh'd,
Let him be whipt and hang'd.

Luc. I beſeech your Highneſſe doe not marry me to
a Whore: your Highneſſe ſaid euen now! I made you a
Duke, good my Lord do not recompence me, in making
me a Cuckold.

Duk. Vpon

84

Measure for Measure.

Duke. Vpon mine honor thou shalt marrie her.
Thy Slanders I forgiue,and therewithall
Remit thy other forfeits: take him to prifon,
And see our pleasure herein executed.
Lucy. Marrying a punke my Lord, is preffing to death,
Whipping and hanging.
Duke. Slandering a Prince deferues it.
She Claudio that you wrong'd, looke you restore.
Ioy to you Mariana, loue her Angelo:
I haue confes'd her, and I know her vertue,
Thanks good friend, Escalus, for thy much goodnesse,

There's more behinde that is more gratulate.
Thanks Proueft for thy care, and fecrecie,
We shall imploy thee in a worthier place.
Forgiue him Angelo, that brought you home
The head of Ragozine for Claudio's,
Th'offence pardons it selfe. Deere Isabell,
I haue a motion much imports your good,
Whereto if you'll a willing care incline;
What's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine.
So bring vs to our Pallace, where we'll show
What's yet behinde, that meete you all should know,

The Scene Vienna.

The names of all the Actors.

Vincentio: the Duke.
Angelo, the Deputie.
Escalus, an ancient Lord.
Claudio, a young Gentleman.
Lucio, a fantaſtique.
2. Other like Gentiemen.
Proueſt.

Thomas. } 2. Friers.
Peter.
Elbow, a simple Conſtable.
Froth, a foolish Gentleman.
Clowne.
Abhorſon, an Executioner.
Barnardine, a diffolute prifoner.
Isabella, ſifter to Claudio.
Mariana, betrothed to Angelo.
Juliet, beloved of Claudio.
Franciſca, a Nun.
Mistris Ouer-don, a Bawd.

FINIS.

The Comedie of Errors.

Aclus primus, Scena prima.

Enter the Duke of Ephesus, with the Merchant of Siracusa,
Iaylor, and other attendants.

Merchant.

Reced Solinus to procure my fall,
And by the doome of death end woes and all.
Duke. Merchant of Siracusa, plead no more.

I am not partiall to infringe our Lawes;

The enmity and discord which of late

Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your Duke,

To Merchants our well-dealing Countrimen,

Who wanting gilders to redeeme their lues,

Hae feal'd his rigorous flatutes with their blouds,

Excludes all pitty from our threatening lookes:

For since the mortall and inteffine iarres

Twixt thy seditious Countrimen and vs,

It hath in felemne Synodes beene decreed,

Both by the Siracufians and our felues,

To admit no trafficke to our aduerse townes:

Nay more, if any borne at Ephesus;

Be feene at any Siracufian Martes and Fayres :

Againe, if any Siracufian borne

Come to the Bay of Ephesus, he dies :

His goods confiicate to the Dukes diſpote,

Vnleſſe a thousand markes be leuied

To quit the penalty, and to ranſome him :

Thy subſtance, valued at the highest rate,

Cannot amount vnto a hundred Markes,

Therefore by Law thou art condemn'd to die.

Mr. Yet this my comfort, when your words are done,
My woes end likewise with the euening Sonne.

Duk. Well Siracufian; ſay in briefe the caufe

Why thou departedt from thy native home ?

And for what cauſe thou cam't to Ephesus.

Mr. A heauier taske could not haue beene impos'd,
Then I to ſpeak my griefes vnſpeakable :

Yet that the world may witenſe that my end

Was wrought by nature, not by vile offence,

Ile vttet what my forrow giues me leaue.

In Siracufa was I borne, and wedde

Vnto a woman, happy but for me,

And by me; had not our hap beene bad :

With her I liu'd in ioy, our wealth increaſt

By prosperous voyages I often made

To Epidamium, till my factors death,

And he great care of goods at randone left,

Drew me from kinde embracements of my ſpouse;

From whom my abſence was not ſix moneths olde;

Before her ſelfe (almost at fainting under

The pleasing puniſhment that women beare)

Had made prouifion for her following me,

And ſoone, and ſafe, arriued where I was :

There had she not beene long, but she became

A toſull mother of two goodly ſonnes :

And, which was ſtrange, the one ſo like the other,

As could not be diſtinguish'd but by names.

That very howre, and in the ſelfe-fame Innè,

A meane woman was deliuered

Of ſuch a burthen Male, twins both alike :

Thofe, for their parents were exceeding poore,

I bought, and brought vp to attend my ſonnes.

My wife, not meanely prowd of two ſuch boyes,

Made daily motions for our home returne:

Vnwilling I agreed, alas, too ſoonewe wee came aboard.

A league from Epidamium had we sail'd

Before the alwaies winde-obeying deepe

Gaue any Tragicke Inſtance of our harme :

But longer did we not retaine much hope;

For what obſured light the heauens did grant,

Did but conuay vnto our ſcarefull mindeſ

A doubtfull warrant of immediate death,

Which though my ſelfe would gladly haue imbrac'd,

Yet the inſeplant weepings of my wife,

Weeping before for what ſhe law muſt come,

And pitteous playnings of the prettye babes

That mourn'd for ſaſhion, ignorant what to ſeare,

Forſt me to ſeeke delays for them and me,

And this it was: (for other means was none)

The Sailors ſought for ſafety by our boate,

And left the ſhip then ſinking ripe to vs.

My wife, more careful for the latter borne,

Had ſaſned him vnto a small ſpare Maſt,

Such as ſea-faring men prouide for ſtormes :

To him one of the other twins was bound,

Whil'th I had boone like heedfull of the other.

The children thus diſpos'd, my wife and I,

Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fixt,

Faſtned our ſelues at eyther end the maſt,

And floating ſtraight, obedient to the ſtreame,

Was carried towards Corinth, as we thought,

At length the ſonne gazing vpon the earth,

Diſperſt those vapours that oſſended vs,

And by the benefit of his wifned light

The ſeas waxt calme, and we diſcouered

Two ſhippes from ſarre, making amaineto vs :

Of Corinth that, of Epidamnus this,

But ere they came, oh let me ſay no more,

Gather the ſequell by that went before.

Duk. Nay forward old man, does not breake off so,

H

For

88

The Comedie of Errors.

For we may pitty, though not pardon thee.

Merch. Oh had the gods done so, I had not now
Worthily team'd them mercileſſe to vs:
For ere the chips could meet by twice ſiue leagues,
We were encountred by a mighty rocke,

Which being violently borne vp,
Our helpefull ſhip was ſplitted in the midft;
So that in this vnjuſt divorce of vs,

Fortune had left to both of vs alike,
What to delight in, what to ſorrow for,
Her part, poore ſoule, ſeeming as burdened
With leſſer waight, but not with leſſer woe,

Was carried with more ſpeed before the winde,
And in our fight they three were taken vp
By Fishermen of Corinth, as we thought.

At length another ſhip had ſeiz'd on vs,
And knowing whom it was their hap to faue,
Gaue healthfull welcome to their ſhip-wrackt guerſts,
And would haue reſt the Fishers of their prey,

Had not their backe beene very ſlow of ſaile;
And therefore homeward did they bend their courſe.
Thus haue I heard me ſever'd from my bliffe,
That by misfortunes was my life prolong'd,
To tell ſad ſtories of my owne misſaps.

Duke. And for the lake of them thou ſorrowſt for,
Doe me the fauour to dilate at full,
What haue beſalne of them and they till now.

Merch. My yongest boy, and yet my eldest care,
At eighteen yeeres became inquifitie
After his brother; and importun'd me
That his attendant, ſo his caſe was like,
Reſt of his brother, but retain'd his name,
Might beare him company in the queſt of him:
Whom whil't I laboured of a loue to ſee,
I hazarded the loſſe of whom I lou'd.

Fiuſe Sommers haue I ſpent in fartheſt Greece,
Roming cleane through the bounds of Afia,
And coaſting homeward, came to Epeſus :
Hopeleſſe to ſinde, yet loth to leaue vnloſt
Or that, or any place that harbours men :

But heere muſt end the ſtory of my life,
And happy were I in my timelie death,

Could all my trauellers warrant me they liue.

Duke. Hapleſſe Egeon whom the fates haue markt
To beare the extremite of dire miſhap :

Now truſt me, were it not againſt our Lawes,
Againſt my Crowne, my oath, my dignity,
Which Princes would they may not diſanull,
My ſoule ſhould ſue as advocate for thee :

But though thou art adiudged to the death,
And paffed ſentence may not be recal'd

But to our honours great disparagement :
Yet will I fauour thee in what I can ;

Therefore Marchant, Ile limit thee this day

To ſeeke thy helpe by beneficiall helpe,

Try all the friends thou haſt in Epeſus ,

Beg thou, or borrow, to make vp the ſumm e,
And liue: if no, then thou art doom'd to die:

Iaylor, take him to thy cuſtodie.

Iaylor. I will my Lord.

Merch. Hopeleſſe and helpeleſſe doth Egean wend,

But to procreatinate his luieleſſe end. Exaunt.

Enter Antipholus Erotes, a Marchant, and Dromio.

Mer. Therefore giue out you are of Epidamnus,
Left that your goods too ſoone be confiſcate:

This very day a *Syracusan* Marchant
Is apprehended for a riuall here:

And not being able to buy out his life,
According to the nature of the towne,
Dies ere the wearie ſunne ſet in the Weſt:
There is your monie that I had to keepe.

Ant. Goe beare it to the Centaure, where we hoff,
And fly there Dromio, till I come to thee;

Within this houre it will be dinner time,

Till that Ile view the manners of the towne,
Perufe the traders, gaze vpon the buildings,
And then returne and ſleepe within mine Iune,
For with long trauaile I am ſtiffe and wearie.
Get thee away.

Dro. Many a man would take you at your word,
And goe indeede, hauing ſo good a meane.

Exit Dromio.

Ant. A truſtje villaine fir, that very oft,

When I am dull with care and melancholly,

Lightens my humour with his merry iefts :

What will you walke with me about the towne,
And then goe to my Inne and dine with me?

E. Mar. I am inuited fir to certaine Marchants,

Of whom I hope to make much benefit:

I craue your pardon, ſoone at ſiue a clocke,

Pleafe you, Ile meere with you vpon the Mart,

And afterward conſort you till bed time:

My preſent buſineſſe cals me from you now.

Ant. Farewell till then : I will goe loofe my ſelfe,

And wander vp and downe to view the Citie.

E. Mar. Sir, I commend you to your owne content.

Exaunt.

Ant. He that commends me to mine owne content,
Commends me to the thing I cannot get:

I to the world am like a drop of water,

That in the Ocean ſeeke's another drop,

Who falling there to ſinde his fellow forth:

(Vnſene, inquifitie) confounds himſelfe.

So I, to ſinde a Mother and a Brother,

In queſt of them (vnhappie a) loofe my ſelfe.

Enter Dromio of Epeſus.

Here comes the almanacke of my true date:

What now? How chance thou art return'd to ſoone.

E. Dro. Return'd to ſo ſoone, rather approach too late:

The Capon burnes, the Pig falls from the ſpit;

The clocke hath ſtrucken twelue vpon the bell :

My Miftris made it one vpon my cheeke :

She is ſo hot because the meate is colde :

The meate is colde, because you come not home:

You come not home, because you haue no ſtomacke :

You haue no ſtomacke, hauing broke your ſaſt:

But we that know what'tis to ſaſt and pray,

Are penitent for your default to day.

Ant. Stop in your winde fir, tell me this I pray ?

Where haue you left the mony that I gaue you.

E. Dro. On ſiue pence that I had a wenſday laſt,
To pay the Sadler for my Miftris crupper :

The Sadler had it Sir, I kept it not.

Ant. I am not in a ſportiue humor now :

Tell me, and dally not, where is the monie?

We being strangers here, how darſt thou truſt

So great a charge from thine owne cuſtodie.

E. Dro. I pray you left fir as you fit at dinner :

I from my Miftris come to you in poſt:

If I returne I ſhall be poſt indeede.

For

The Comedie of Errors.

87

For the will I coure your fault upon my pate:

Me thinkes your maw, like mine, should be your cooke,
And strike you home without a messenge.

Ant. Come Dromio, come, these lefts are out of season,
Referue them till a merrier houre then this :
Where is the gold I gaue in charge to thee?

E. Dro. To me fir: why you gaue no gold to me?

Ant. Come on fir knaue, haue done your fooliflies,
And tell me how thou haft dispos'd thy charge.

E. Dro. My charge was but to fetch you fi the Mart
Home to your houfe, the Phanix fir, to dinner:

My Miftris and her Sifter flaves for you.

Ant. Now as I am a Christian anfwer me,
In what fafe place you haue beſtow'd my monie:
Or I ſhall breake that merrie ſconce of yours:
That stands on tricks, when I am vndifpos'd:
Where is the thouſand Markes thou hadst of me?

E. Dro. I haue ſome markes of yours vpon my pate:
Some of my Miftris markes vpon my shoulders:
But not a thouſand markes betweene you both.
If I ſhould pay your worſhip that ſeaine,
Perchance you will not beare them patiently.

Ant. Thy Miftris markes what Miftris flaue haſt thou?
E. Dro. Your worſhips wife, my Miftris at the Phanix;
She that doth ſaſt till you come home to dinner:
And praies that you will hie you home to dinner.

Ant. What wilt thou flout me thus vnto my face
Being forbid? There take you that fir knaue.

E. Dro. What meane you fir, for God ſake hold your
Nay, and you will not fir, Ile take my heeles.
(hands: Exeunt Dromio Ep.)

Ant. Vpon my life by ſome deuife or other,
The villaine is ore-wrought of all my monie.

They ſay this towne is full of cofenage:

As nimble Iuglers that deceive the eie:
Darke working Sorcerers that change the minde:

Soule-killing Witches, that deforme the bodie:

Difguſed Cheaters, prating Mountebankes;

And manie ſuch like liberties of ſinne:

If it proue ſo, I will be gone the ſooner:

Ile to the Centaur to goe ſeeke this flaue,

I greatly ſeare my monie is not ſafe.

Exit.

Abus Secundus.

Enter Adriana, wife to Antipholus Serepthus, with
Luciana her Sifter.

Adr. Neither my husband nor the flaue return'd,
That in ſuch haſte I ſent to ſeeke his Maſter?

Sure Luciana it is two a clocke.

Luc. Perhaps ſome Merchant hath inuited him,
And from the Mart he's ſomewhere gone to dinner:
Good Sifter let vs dine, and neuer fret:

A man is Maſter of his libertie :

Time is their Maſter, and when they ſee time,

They'll goe or come; if ſo, be patient Sifter.

Adr. Why ſhould their libertie then ours be more?

Luc. Because their buſineſſe ſill lies out adore.

Adr. Looke when I ferue him ſo, he takes it thus.

Luc. Oh, know he is the bridle of your will.

Adr. There's none but affes will be bridled ſo.

Lnc. Why, headſtrong liberty is laſſe with woe:
There's nothing ſituate vnder heauens eye,
But hath his bound in earth, in ſea, in skie.

The beaſts, the fifſes, and the winged fowles:

Are their males ſubieſts, and at their controules :

Man more diuine, the Maſter of all theſe,

Lord of the wide world, and wilde watry ſeas,

Indued with intelleſtuall fence and ſoules,

Of more preeminence then ſih and ſowles,

Are maſters to their females, and their Lords H.

Then let your will attend on their accords.

Adr. This ſeruitude makes you to keepe vnwed.

Luc. Not this, but troubles of the marriage bed.

Adr. But were you wedded, you would bear ſome way

Luc. Ere I leare loue, Ile præſe to obey.

Adr. How if your husband ſtart ſome other where ?

Luc. Till he come home againe, I would for beare.

Adr. Patience vnno'd, no maruel though she pauſe,

They can be meeke, that haue no other caufe:

A wretched ſoule bruis'd with aduerſitie,

We bid be quiet when we heare it eſt.

But were we burdned with like weight of paints,

As much, or more, we should our ſelues complaine:

So thou that haſt no vnkindne mace to greeue thee,

With vrging helpeleſſe patience would reele me:

But if thou liue to ſee like right bereſt,

This foole-beg'd patience in thee will be left.

Luci. Well, I will marry one day but to trice:

Heere comes my man, now is your husband nie.

Enter Dromio Ep.

Adr. Say, is your tardie maſter now at hand?

E. Dro. Nay, hee's at too hands with mec, and that my
two eares can wittelneſs.

Adr. Say, didſt thou ſpeake with him ? knowſt thou
his minde?

E. Dro. I, he told his minde vpon mine eare,

Befrew his hand, I ſcarce could vnderstand it.

Luc. Spake hee ſo doubtfully, thou couldſt not ſeele
his meaning.

E. Dro. Nay, hee ſtrooke ſo plainly, I could too well
ſeele his blowes; and withall ſo doubtfully, that I could
ſcarce vnderstand them.

Adr. But ſay, I prethee, is he comming home?

It ſeemes he hath great care to pleafe his wife.

E. Dro. Why Miftreſſe, ſure my Maſter is horne mad.

Adr. Horne mad, thou villaine?

E. Dro. I meane not Cuckold mad,

But ſure he is flarke mad :

When I defir'd him to come home to dinner, I ollo:

He ask'd me for a hundred markes in gold:

'Tis dinner time, quoth I: my gold, quoth he:

Your meat doth burne, quoth I: my gold quoth he:

Will you come, quoth I: my gold, quoth he:

Where is the thouſand markes I gaue thee villaine?

The Pigge quoth I, is burn'd: my gold, quoth he:

My miſtreſſe, fir, quoth I: hang vp thy Miftreſſe:

I know not thy miſtreſſe, out on thy miſtreſſe.

Luci. Quoth who?

E. Dr. Quoth my Maſter, I know quoth he, no houſe,
no wife, no miſtreſſe: so that my arrant due vnto my
tongue, I thanke him, I bare home vpon my shoulders :
for in conclusion, he did beat me there.

Adr. Go back againe, thou ſlute, & feteli him home.

Dro. Goe backe againe, and be new beaten home ?
For Gods ſake ſend ſome other meſſenger.

H 2

Adr. Backe

88

The Comedie of Errors

Adri. Backe ſlaue, or I will breake thy pace a-croſle.
Dro. And he will bleſſe y croſle with other beating:
Betweene you, I ſhall have a holy head.

Adri. Hence prating ſefant, fetch thy Maſter home.

Dro. Am I to round with you, as you with me,
That like a foot-ball you doe ſpurne me thus:
You ſpurne me hence, and he will ſpurne me higher,
If I left in this ſeruice, you muſt caſe me in leather.

Luci. Fie how impatience lowreth in your face.

Adri. His company muſt do his minions grace,
Whil't I at home ſtare for a merrie looke:
Hath homelie age th'alluring beauty tooke
From my poore cheeke ? then he hath waſted it.

Are my diſcourſes dull ? Barren my wit,
If voluble and ſharpe diſcoursſe be mar'd,
Vnkindneſſe blunts it more then marble hard.

Doe their gay veſtments his affections baite?
That's not my fault, hee's maſter of my ſtate.

What ruines are in me that can be found,
By him not ruin'd? Then is he the ground
Of my deafeures: My decayed ſaire,

A ſunnie looke of his, would ſoone repaire.
But, too vnruly Deere, he breaks the pale,
And feedes from home ; poore I am but his ſtale.

Luci. Selfe-harming ſealousſe ; ſie ſeat it hence.

Ad. Unfeeling fools can with ſuch wrongs diſpence:
I know his eye doth homage other-where,
Or else, what lets it but he would be here ?

Sifter, you know he promis'd me a chaine,
Would that alone, a loue he would detaine,

So he would keepe faire quarter with his bed:
I fee the Iewell beſt enamaled
Will loofe his beautie: yet the gold bides ſtill
That others toucht, and often touching' will,
Where gold and no man that hath a name,
By falhood and corruption doth it ſhame:
Since that my beautie cannot please his eie,
Ile weepe (what's left away) and weeping die.

Luci. How manie fond fooles ſerue mad Ieouſie?

Exit.

Enter Antipholis Errotis.

Ant. The gold I gaue to Dromio is laid vp
Safe at the Centaur, and the heedfull ſlaue
Is wandred forth in care to ſeeke me out

By computation and mine hoſts report.
I could not ſpake with Dromio, ſince at first
I ſent him from the Mart ? ſee here he comes.

Enter Dromio Siracufia.

How now fir, is your merrie humor alter'd ?
As you loue ſroakes, ſo ieſt with me againe:
You know no Centaur ? you recei'd no gold?

Your Miftreſſe ſent to haue me home to dinner ?
My houſe was at the Phoenix ? Waſt thou mad,

That thus ſo madlie thou did didſt anſwere me?

S. Dro. What anſwer fir ? when ſpake I ſuch a word?

E. Ant. Euen now, euen here, not halſe an howre ſince.

S. Dro. I did not ſee you ſince you ſent me hence
Home to the Centaur with the gold you gaue me.

Ant. Villaine, thou didſt denie the golds receit,
And coldſt me of a Miftreſſe, and a dinner,

For which I hope thou feltſt I was diſpleas'd.
S. Dro. I am glad to ſee you in this merrie vaine,
What meanes this ieſt, I pray you Maſter tell me?

Ant. Yea, doſt thou ieere & flowt me in the taeth ?
Think ſt ? I ieſt ? hold, take thou that, & that. Beats Dro.

S. Dr. Hold fir, for God's ſake, now your ieſt is earneſt,

Vpon what bargaine do you giue it me?

Antiph. Because that I familiarlie sometimes

Doe vſe you for my ſoole, and chat with you,
Your ſawineſſe will ieſt upon my loue,
And make a Common of my ſerious howres,
When the ſunne ſhines, let foolish gnats make ſport,
But creepe in crannies, when he hides his beames:
If you will ieſt with me, know my aspeſt,
And ſhaping your deteanor to my lookes,
Or I will beat this method in your ſconce.

S. Dro. Sconce call you it so you would leaue baſſe
ring, I had rather haue a head, and you vſe these blown
long, I muſt get a ſconce for my head, and Inſconce it
to, or else I ſhall ſeek my wit in my shoulders, but I pray
fir, why am I beaten?

Ant. Doſt thou not know ?

S. Dro. Nothing fir, but that I am beaten.

Ant. Shall I tell you why?

S. Dro. I fir, and wherefore; for they ſay, every why
hath a wherefore.

Ant. Why firſt for flowtling me, and then wherefore,
for vrging it the ſecond time to me.

S. Dro. Was there euer anie man thus beaten out of
feaſon, when in the why and the wherefore, is neither
rime nor reaſon. Well fir, I thanke you.

Ant. Thanke me fir, for what?

S. Dro. Marry fir, for this ſomething that you gaue me
for nothing.

Ant. Ile make you amends next, to giue you nothing
for ſomething. But ſay fir, is it dinner time?

S. Dro. No fir, I thinke the meat wants that I haue.

Ant. In good time fir : what's that ?

S. Dro. Baſting.

Ant. Well fir, then 'twill be drie.

S. Dro. If it be fir, I pray you eat none of it.

Ant. Your reaſon?

S. Dro. Left it make you chollericke, and purchaſe me
another drie baſting.

Ant. Well fir, learne to ieſt in good time, there's a
time for all things.

S. Dro. I durſt haue denied that before you vwere ſo
choller icke.

Ant. By what rule fir ?

S. Dro. Marry me, a rule as plaine as the plaine bald
pate of Father time himselfſe.

Ant. Let's heare it.

S. Dro. There's no time for a man to recouer his haire
that growes bald by nature.

Ant. May he not doe it by fine and recouerie ?

S. Dro. Yes, to pay a fine for a perewig, and recouer
the loſt haire of another man.

Ant. Why, is Time such a niggard of haire, being (as
it is) ſo plentifull an excrement?

S. Dro. Because it is a bleſſing that hee beſtowes on
beaſts, and what he hath ſcanted them in haire, hee hath
guen them in wit.

Ant. Why, but thereſs manie a man hath more haire
then wit.

S. Dro. Not a man of those but he hath the wit to lole
his haire.

Ant. Why thou didſt conclude hairy men plain deſ-
lers without wit.

S. Dro. The plainer dealer, the sooner loſt; yet he loo-
ſeth it in a kinde of iollitie.

Ant. For what reaſon.

S. Dro. For two, and found ones to.

An. Nay.

The Comedie of Errors.

89

An. Nay, not found I pray you.

S.Dro. Sure ones then.

An. Nay, not sure in a thing falling.

S.Dro. Certain ones then.

An. Name them.

S.Dro. The one to faile the money that he spends in
trying: the other, that at dinner they should not drop in
his porridge.

An. You would all this time haue prou'd, here is no
time for all things.

S.Dro. Marry and did fir: namely, in no time to re-
couer haire left by Nature.

An. But your reason was not substantially, why there
is no time to re-couer.

S.Dro. Thus I mend it: Time himselfe is bald, and
therefore to the worlds end, will haue bald followers.

An. I knew 'twould be a bald conclusion: but soft,
who wafts vs yonder.

Enter Adriana and Luciana.

Adri. I, I, Antipholus, looke a strange and frowne,
Some other Mistresse hath thy sweet aspects:
I am not Adriana, nor thy wife.

The time was once, when thou vn-vrg'd wouldst vow,
That neuer words were rousicke to thine eare,
That neuer obied pleasing in thine eye,
That neuer touch well welcome to thy hand,
That neuer meat sweet-fauour'd in thy taffe,
Vnleffe I spake, or look'd, or touch'd, or caru'd to thee.

How comes it now, my Husband, oh how comes it,
That thou art then estranged from thy selfe ?

Thy selfe I call it, being a' strange to me:

That vndinable Incorporate

Am better then thy decre selfes better part.

Ah doe not teare away thy selfe from me;

For know my loue : as eafie maist thou fall

A drop of water in the breaking gulfe,

And take vnmingled thence that drop againe

Without addition or diminishing,

As take from me thy selfe, and not me too.

How deerely would it touch thee to the quicke,

Shoulduft thou but heare I were licencious ?

And that this body confeecrate to thee,

By Ruffian Luft should be contaminate?

Woulduft thou not spit at me, and spurne at me,

And hurl'e the name of husband in my face,

And teare the stain'd skin of my Harlot brow,

And from my falfe hand cut the wedding ring,

And breake it with a deepe-diuorcing vow ?

I know thou canst, and therefore see thou doe it.

I am posseff'd with an adulterate blot,

My bloud is mingled with the crime of luft :

For if we two be one, and thou play falfe,

I doe digest the poifon of thy flesh,

Being trumpeted by thy contradiction :

Keepe then faire league and truce with thy true bed,

I liue diftain'd, thou vndifhonoured.

Antip. Plead you to me faire dame ? I know you not:
In Ephesus I am but two hours old,

As strange vnto thy towne, as to your talke,

Who euer word by all my wit being can'd,

Wants wit in all one word to vnderstand.

Luci. Fie brother, how the world is chang'd with you:
When were you wont to vse my fifter thus ?

She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner.

Ant. By Dromio?

Drom. By me.

Adr. By thee, and this thou didst returne from him.
That he did buffer thee, and in his blowes,
Denied my house for his, me for his wife.

Ant. Did you conuerse fir with this gentlewoman:
What is the course and drift of your compa't?

S.Dro. I neuer sawe him till this time.

Ant. Villaine thou lieſt, for euen her verie words,
Didſt thou deliuer to me on the Mart.

S.Dro. I neuer ſpake with her in all my life.

Ant. How can ſhe thus then call vs by our names?
Vnleſſe it be by inspiration.

Adri. How ill agrees it with your grauitie,
To counterfeit thus groſely with your ſlaue,
Abetting him to thwart me in my moode;
Be it my wrong, you are from me exempt,
But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt.

Come I will faſten on this ſleeue of thine :

Thou art an Elme my husband, I a Vine :

Whofe weakneſſe married to thy ſtranger ſtate,
Makes me with thy ſtrength to communicate :

If ought poſſeſſe thee from me, it is drouſe,

Vſurping Iuie, Brier, or idle Moſſe,

Who all for want of pruning, with intrusion,

Infest thy ſap, and liue on thy confusion.

Ant. To mee ſhee ſpeakes, ſhee moues mee for her
theame;

What, was I married to her in my dreame?

Or ſleepe I now, and thinke I heare all this?

What error driues our eies and cares amiffle?

Vntill I know this ſure vncertainte,

Ile entertaine the free'd fallacie.

Luc. Dromio, goe bid the ſeruants ſpred for dinner.

S.Dro. Oh for my beads, I croſſe me for a ſinner.

This is the Fairie land, oh ſpight of ſpights,
We talke with Gobliſs, Owles and ſprights ;

If we obay them not, this will inſue:

They'll fucke our breath, or pinch vs blacke and blew.

Luc. Why prat't thou to thy selfe, and anſwer't not?

Dromio, thou Dromio, thou ſnaile, thou flug, thou ſot.

S.Dro. I am transformed Maſter, am I not?

Ant. I thinke thou art in minde, and so am I.

S.Dro. Nay Maſter, both in minde, and in my ſhape,

Ant. Thou haſt thine owne forme.

S.Dro. No, I am an Ape.

Luc. If thou art chang'd to ought, 'tis to an Aſſe.

S.Dro. 'Tis true ſhe rides me, and I long for graſſe.

Tis so, I am an Aſſe, ſelfe it could neuer be,

But I should know her as well as ſhe knowes me.

Adr. Come, come, no longer will I be a ſoole,
To put the finger in the eie and weepe;

Whil't man and Maſter laughs my woes to ſcorne :

Come fir to dinner, Dromio keepe the gate :

Husband Ile dine aboue with you to day,

And ſhriue you of a thouſand idle prankes :

Sirra, if any aske you for your Maſter,

Say he dines forth, and let no creature enter :

Come firer, Dromio play the Porter well.

Ant. Am I in earth, in heauen, or in hell?

Sleeping or waking, mad or well aduſſe :

Knowne vnto theſe, and to my ſelfe diſguſe :

Ile ſay as they ſay, and perſeuer ſo :

And in this mift at all aduentures go.

S.Dro. Maſter, ſhall I be Porter at the gate ?

Adr. I, and let none enter, leaſt I breake my pate.

Luc. Come, come, Antipholus, we dine to late.

H 3

Aetius

90

The Comedie of Errors.

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Antipholus of Ephesus, his man Dromio, Angelo the
Goldsmith, and Balthasar the Merchant.

E. Anti. Good fignior Angelo you must excufe vs all,
My wife is chrewish when I keepe not howres;
Say that I lingerd with you at your shop.

To fee the making of her Carkanet,
And that to morrow you will bring it home.

But here's a villaine that would face me downe.

He met me on the Mart, and that I beat him,
And charg'd him with a thousand markes in gold,
And that I did denie my wife and house;

Thou drunkard thou, what didst thou meane by this?

E. Dro. Say what you wil fir, but I know what I know,
That you beat me at the Mart I haue your hand to flow;
If your skin were parchment, & ſhy blows you gaue were ink
Your owne hand-writing would tell you what I thinke.

E. Ant. I thinke thou art an affe.

E. Dro. Marry so it doth appeare

By the wrongs I suffer, and the blowes I beare,
I should kicke being kickt, and being at that patfe.

You would keepe from my heeles, and beware of an affe.

E. An. Y'are sad fignior Balthazar, pray God our cheer
May anſwer my good will, and your good welcom here.

Bal. I hold your dainties cheap fir, & your welcom deer.

E. An. Oh fignior Balthazar, either at fleſh or fifth,

A table full of welcome, makes ſcarce one dainty diſh.

Bal. Good meat fir is comon that euery churle affords.

Anti. And welcome more common, for that's nothing
but words.

Bal. Small cheere and great welcome, makes a mer-
rie feast.

Anti. I, to a niggardly Hoſt, and more ſparing gueſt:
But though my cates be meane, take them in good part,
Better cheere may you haue, but not with better hart.

But ſoft, my doore, is lockt; goe bid them let vs in.

E. Dro. Maud, Briget, Marian, Cisley, Gillian, Ginn.

S. Dro. Mome, Milthorſe, Capon, Coxcombe, Iddi-
ot, Patch,

Either get thee from the dore, or fit downe at the hatch:
Doſt thou coniure for wenches, that y calit for ſuch ſtore,
When one is one too many, goe get thee from the dore.

E. Dro. What patch is made our Porter ? my Maſter
ſtayes in the ſtreet.

S. Dro. Let him walke from whence he came, left hee
catch cold on's feet.

E. Ant. Who talks within there? hoo, open the dore.

S. Dro. Right fir, Ile tell you when, and you'll tell
me wherefore.

Ant. Wherefore ? for my dinner : I haue not din'd to
day.

S. Dro. Nor to day here you muſt not come againe
when you may.

Anti. What art thou that keep'st mee out from the
howſe I owe?

S. Dro. The Porter for this time Sir, and my name is
Dromio.

E. Dro. O villaine, thou haſt ſtolne both mine office
and my name,

The one nere got me credit, the other mickle blame :
If thou hadst beene Dromio to day in my place,

Thou wouldſt haue chang'd thy face for a name, on thy
name for an affe.

Enter Luce.

Luce. What a coile is there Dromio ? who are they
at the gate?

E. Dro. Let my Maſter in Luce.

Luce. Faith no, they come too late, and to tell your
Maſter.

E. Dro. O Lord I must laugh, haue at you with a Pro-
uerbe,

Shall I let in my ſtaſſe,

Luce. Haue at you with another, that's when't can
you tell?

S. Dro. If thy name be called Luce, Luce thou haſt an-
ſwer'd him well.

Anti. Doe you heare you minion, you'll let vs in I
hope?

Luce. I thought to haue askt you.

S. Dro. And you faid no,

E. Dro. So come helpe, well ſtrooke, there was blow
for blow.

Anti. Thou baggage let me in.

Luce. Can you tell for whose ſake?

E. Drom. Maſter, knocke the doore hard.

Lue. Let him knocke till it ſke.

Anti. You'll crie for this minion, if I beat the doore
downe.

Luce. What needs all that, and a paire of ſtocks in the
towne?

Enter Adriana.

Adr. Who is that at the doore y keeps all this noife?

S. Dro. By my troth your towne is troubled with yn-
ruiy boies.

Anti. Are you there Wife ? you might haue come
before.

Adri. Your wife fir knaue? go get you from the dore,

E. Dro. If you went in paine Maſter, this knaue wold
goe fore.

Angelo. Heere is neither cheere fir, nor welcome, we
would fairene haue either.

Baltz. In debating which was beſt, wee ſhall part
with neither.

E. Dro. They ſtand at the doore, Maſter, bid them
welcome hither.

Anti. There is something in the winde, that we can-
not get in.

E. Dro. You would ſay so Maſter, if your garments
were thin.

Your cake here is warme within: you ſtand here in the
cold.

It would make a man mad as a Bucke to be so bought
and fold.

Ant. Go fetch me ſomething, Ile break ope the gate.

S. Dro. Breake any breaking here, and Ile breake your
knaues pate.

E. Dro. A man may breake a word with your fir, and
words are but winde :

I and breake it in your face, so he break it not behinde.

S. Dro. It ſeemes thou want'st breaking, out vpon thee
hinde.

E. Dro. Here's too much out vpon thee, I pray thee let
me in.

S. Dro. I, when fowles haue no feathers, and fifth haue
no fin.

Ant. Well, Ile breake in go borrow me a crow.

E. Dro. A crow without feather, Maſter meane you so;
For

The Comedie of Errors.

91

For a fifth without a finne, there's a fowle without a father,
If a crow help vain firre, we'll plucke a crow together.

Ant. Go, get three gour, fetch me an iron Crow.

Balib. Haue patience, sir, on let it not be so,

And draw within the compasse of his fupſect

Th' vnuiolated honor of your wife.

Once this your long experience of your wifedome,
Her sober verue, yeares, and moſt eſt

Plead on your part some cauſe to your vnknowne;

And doubt not ſu, but ſhe will well exſuſe

Why at this time the doores are made against you.

Be rul'd by me, depart in patience,

And let vs to the Tyger a table dinner,

And about euening come your ſelfe alone,

To know the reaſon of this strange reſtraint:

If by strong hand you offer to breake in

Now in the firing passage of the day,

A vulgar comment will be made of it;

And that ſupſed by the common rowe

Against your yet vangalled eſtimation,

That may with ſoule inſtruction enter in,

And dwell upon your graue when you are dead;

For ſlander lives upon ſucceſſion;

For euer how'd, where it gets poffeffion,

Ami. You have preuail'd, I will depart in quiet,
And in deſpight of mirth meane to be merrie:

I know a wench of excellent discurſe,

Prettie and wittie; wilde, and yet too gentle;

There will we dine: this woman that I meane
My wife (but I proteſt without deſt)

Hath oftentimes vpbraided me withall:

To her will we to dinner, get you home

And fetch the chaine, by this I know't is made,

Bring it I pray you to the Porpentine,

For there's the houſe: That chaine will I beſtow

(Be it for nothing but to ſpight my wife)

Vpon mine hoſſeſe there, good fir make haffe:

Since mine owne doores reſufe to entertaine me,

Ile knocke elfe-where, to fee if they'll diſdaine me.

Ang. Ile meet you at that place some houre hence.
Anti. Do so, this iest shall coſt me some expence.

Exeunt.

Enter Iuliana, with Antipholus of Siracufia.

Iuliana. And may it be that you haue quite forgot
A husbands office? ſhall Antipholus

Euen in the Spring of Loue, thy Loue-springs rot?

Shall loue in buildings grow so ruinate?

If you did wed my ſifter for her wealth,

Then for her wealths-fake vſe her with more kindneſſe:
Or if you like, elfe-where doe it by ſlealth,

Muffe your falſe loue with some ſhew of blindneſſe:
Let not my ſifter read it in your eye:

Be not thy tongue thy owne ſhames Orator:

Looke ſweet, ſpeake faire, become diſloyaltie:

Apparell vice like vertues habebender:

Bear e a faire prefence, though your heart be tainted,
Teach finne the carriage of a holy Saint,

Be ſecret falſe: what need ſhe be acquainted?

What ſimple theſe brags of his owne attaine?
'Tis double wrong to truant with your bed,

And let her read it in thy lookes at boord:

Shame hath a baſtard fame, well managed,

Ill deeds is doubled with an euill word:

Alas poore women, make vſot not believe me.

(Being compact of credit) that you loue vs,

Though others haue the arme, ſhew vs the ſleece:

We in your motion turne, and you may moue vs.

Then gentle brother get you in againe;

Comfort my ſifter, cheere her, call her wife;

Tis holy ſport to be a little vaine,

When the ſweet breath of vainerie conquers ſtrife.

S. Anti. Sweete Miftris, what your name is else I
know not;

Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine:

Leſſe in your knowledge, and your grace you ſhow not,
Then our earths wonder, more then earth diuine.

Teach me deere creature how to thinke and ſpeak:

Lay open to my earthie groſſe conceit:

Smothred in errors, ſeemie, ſhallow, weake,

The ſoulded meaning of your words deſt:

Against my ſoules pure truth, why labour you,
To make it wander in an vnknowne field?

Are you a god? would you create me new?

Transforme me then, and to your powre I yeeld.

But if that I am I, then well I know,

Your weeping ſifter is no wife of mine,

Nor to her bed no homage doe I owe:

Fatre more, ſarre more, to you doe I decline:

Oh traine me not ſweet Maſmaue with thy note,

To droune me in thy ſifter ſlond of teares:

Sing Siren for thy ſelfe, and I will dote:

Spread ore the filuer waues: by golden haires;

And as a bud Ile take thee, and there lie:

And in that glorious ſuppſition thinke,

He gaine by death, that hath ſuch means to die:

Let Loue, being light, be drowned if the ſinke.

Luc. What are you mad, that you doe reaſon ſo?

Ant. Not mad, but mated, how I doe not know,

Luc. It is a fault that ſpringeth from your eie.

Ant. For gazing on your beames faire ſun being by.

Luc. Gaze when you should, and that will cleere
your fight.

Ant. As good to winke ſweet Loue, as look on night.

Luc. Why call you me loue? Call my ſifter ſo.

Ant. Thy ſifters ſifter.

Luc. That's my ſifter.

Ant. No: is it thy ſelfe, mine owne ſelfes better part:

Mine eies cleere eie, my deere hearts deerer heart;

My fooſe, my fortune, and my ſweet hopes aime;

My ſole earths heauen, and my heauens claime.

Luc. All this my ſifter is, or eſſe should be.

Ant. Call thy ſelfe ſifter ſweet, for I am thee:
Thce will I loue, and with thee lead my life;

Thou haſt no husband yet, nor I no wife:

Giue me thy hand.

Lue. Oh ſoft fir, hold you full:

Ile fetch my ſifter to get your good will.

Exit.

Enter Dromio, Siracufia.

Ant. Why how now Dromio, where run'ſt thou ſo
ſaſt?

S. Dro. Doe you know me fir? Am I Dromio? Am I
your man? Am I my ſelfe?

Ant. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art
thy ſelfe.

Dro. I am an aſſe, I am a womans man, and beſides
my ſelfe.

Ant. What womans man? and how beſides thy
ſelfe?

Dro. Marrie fir, beſides my ſelfe, I am due to a woman:
One that claimeſ me, one that haunts me, one that will
hauе me.

Ant. What

92

The Comedie of Errors.

Anti. What claime laies she to thee?

Dro. Marry fir, such claime as you would lay to your horfe, and she would haue me as a beaſt, not that I beeing a beaſt she would haue me, but that she being a verie beaſtly creature layes claime to me.

Anti. What is she?

Dro. A very reuerent body: I ſuch a one, as a man may not ſpeake of, without he ſay fir reuerence, I haue but leane lucke in the match, and yet is ſhe a wondrous fat marriage.

Anti. How doſt thou meane a fat marriage?

Dro. Marry fir, ſhe's the Kitchiu wench, & al greaſe, and I know not what vſe to put her too, but to make a Lampe of her, and run from her by her owne light. I warrant her ragges and the Tallow in them, will burne a Poland Winter: If the liues till doomeſday, ſhe'l burne a weeke longer then the whole World.

Anti. What complexion is ſhe of?

Dro. Swart like my ſhoo, but her face nothing like ſo cleane kept: for why? ſhe sweats a man may goe ouer-ſhooes in the grime of it.

Anti. That's a fault that water will mend.

Dro. No fir, 'tis in graine, Noahs flood could not do it.

Anti. What's her name?

Dro. Nell Sir: but her name is three quarters, that's an Ell and three quarters, will not measure her from hip to hip.

Anti. Then ſhe beares ſome bredth?

Dro. No longer from head to foot, then from hippe to hippe: ſhe is ſphericall, like a globe: I could find out Countries in her.

Anti. In what part of her body stands Ireland?

Dro. Marry fir in her buttockes, I found it out by the bogges.

Ant. Where Scotland?

Dro. I found it by the barrenneſſe, hard in the palm of the hand.

Ant. Where France?

Dro. In her forhead, arm'd and reuerted, making warre againſt her heire.

Ant. Where England?

Dro. I look'd for the chalkle Cliffes, but I could find no whiteneſſe in them. But I guesſe, it flood in her chin by the ſalt rheume that ranne betweene France, and it.

Ant. Where Spaine?

Dro. Faith I saw it not: but I felt it hot in her breth.

Ant. Where America, the Indies?

Dro. Oh fir, vpon her noſe, all ore embellilſhed with Rubies, Carbuncles, Saphires, declining their rich Apeſt to the hot breath of Spaine, who ſent whole Armadoes of Carreſts to be ballaſt at her noſe.

Anti. Where flood Belgia, the Netherlands?

Dro. Oh fir, I did not looke ſo low. To conclude, this drudge or Diuiner layd claime to mee, call'd mee Dromio, Iwore I was aſſur'd to her, told me what pruie markes I had about mee, as the marke of my ſhoulder, the Mole in my necke, the great Wart on my left arme, that I amaz'd ranne from her as a witch. And I thinke, if my breſt had not beene made of faith, and my heart of ſteele, ſhe had transform'd me to a Curtull dog, & made me turne i'ch wheele.

Anti. Go hie thee preſently, poſt to the rode,
And if the winde blow any way from ſhore,
I will not harbour in this Towne to night.
If any Barke put forth, come to the Mart,

Where I will walke till thou returne to me:
If euere one knowes vs, and we know none,
'Tis time I thinke to trudge, packe, and be gone.

Dro. As from a Bearc a man would run for life,
So ſlie I from her that would be my wife.
Exit.

Anti. There's none but Witches do inhabite here,
And therefore'tis hie time that I were hence:
She that doth call me husband, euen my ſoule
Doth for a wife abhorre. But her faire ſiluer
Poffeſt with ſuch a gentle ſoueraigne grace,
Of ſuch inchanting prefence and diſcourſe,
Hath almost made me Traitor to my ſelfe:
But leaſt my ſelfe be guilty to ſelfe wrong,
Ile ſtop mine eares againſt the Mermaids ſong.

Enter Angelo with the Chaine.

Ang. Mr Antipholus.

Anti. I that's my name.

Ang. I know it well fir, loe here's the chaine,
I thought to haue tane you at the Porpentine,
The chaine vofin'd had made me ſtay thus long.

Anti. What is your will that I ſhal do with this?

Ang. What please your ſelfe fir: I haue made it for you.

Anti. Made it for me fir, I beſpoke it nor.

Ang. Nor once, nor twice, but twentie times you haue:

Go home with it, and pleyſe your Wife withall,
And ſoon at ſupper time Ile visit you,
And then receiue my money for the chaine.

Anti. I pray you fir receiue the money now,
For ſeare you ne're ſee chaine, nor mony more.

Ang. You are a merry man fir, fare you well. Exit.

Ant. What I should thinke of this, I cannot tell:
But this I thinke, there's no man is ſo vaine,
That would ruffe ſo faire an offer'd Chaine.
I fee a man heere needs not lue by shifts,
When in the fleets he meetes ſuch Golden gifts :
Ile to the Mart, and there for Dromio lay,
If any ship put out, then ſtraight away.
Exit.

Actus Quartus. Scœna Prima.

Enter a Merchant, Goldsmith, and an Officer.

Mar. You know ſince Pentecoft the ſum is due,
And ſince I haue not much importun'd you,
Nor now I had not, but that I am bound
To Perſia, and want Gilders for my voyage:
Therefore make prefent ſatisfaction,
Or Ile attach you by this Officer.

Gold. Euen iuſt the ſum that I do owe to you,
Is growing to me by Antipholus,
And in the inſant that I met with you,
He had of me a Chaine, at ſue a clocke
I shall receiue the money for the fame:
Pleafeth you walke with me downe to his house,
I will diſcharge my bond, and thanke you too.

Enter Antipholus Epheſ. Dromio from the Courtizans.
Offi. That labour may you ſaue: See where he comes.
Anti. While I go to the Goldsmiths house, go thou

And

The Comedie of Errors.

93

And buy a ropes end, that will I bettow
Among my wife, and their 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.

Dro. I buy a thousand pound a year, I buy a rope.

Exit Dromio

Eph. Answ. A man is well holpe vp that trusts to you,
I promised your prefence, and the Chaine,
But neither Chaine nor Goldsmith came to me:
Belike you thought our lone would last too long
If it were chain'd together : and therefore came not.

Gold. Saving your merrie humor : here's the note
How much your Chaine weighs to the vinofth charcte,
The fineneſſe of the Gold, and chargefull ſtashion,
Which doth amount to three odde Ducks more
Then I stand debted to this Gentleman,
I pray you fee him prefently diſcharg'd,
For he is bound to Sea, and ſtayes but for it.

Anti. I am not furniſh'd with the preſent monie:
Besides I haue ſome buſineſſe in the towne,
Good Signior take the ſtranger to my houſe,
And with you take the Chaine, and bid my wife
Disburſe the ſumme, on the receit thereof,
Perchance I will be there as ſoone as you.

Gold. Then you will bring the Chaine to her your
ſelfe.

Anti. No beare it with you, least I come not time enough.

Gold. Well ſir, I will ? Haue you the Chaine about you?

Anti. And if I haue not ſir, I hope you haue:
Or else you may returne without your money.

Gold. Nay come I pray you ſir, gue me the Chaine :
Both winde and tide ſtayes for this Gentlemen,
And I too blame haue held him heere too long.

Anti. Good Lord, you vſe this dalliance to excufe
Your breach of promife to the Porpentine,
Iſhould haue chid you for not bringing it,
But like a ſhrew you firſt begin to brawle.

Mar. The houre ſtales on, I pray you fir dispatch.
Gold. You heare how he importunes me, the Chaine.

Anti. Why gie you to my wife, and fetch your mony.
Gold. Come, come, you know I gaue it you euen now.
Either ſend the Chaine, or ſend me by ſome token.

Anti. Fie, now you run this humor out of breath,
Come where's the Chaine, I pray you let me fee it.

Mar. My buſineſſe cannot brooke this dalliance,
Good fir ſay, wher' you anſwer me, or no :
If not, I leaue him to the Officer.

Anti. I anſwer you ? What should I anſwer you,
Gold. The monie that you owe me for the Chaine,
Anti. I lowe you none, till I receiue the Chaine.

Gold. You know I gaue it you halſe an houre ſince.
Anti. You gaue me none, you wrong me much to
ſay fo.

Gold. You wrong me more fir in denying it.
Consider how it stands upon my credit.

Mar. Well Officer, arreſt him at my ſuite.

Offi. I do, and charge you in the Dukes name to obey me.

Gold. This touches me in reputation.
Either consent to pay this ſum for me,
Or I attach you by this Officer.

Anti. Conſent to pay the that I neuer had:
Arreſt me foolish ſellow if thou dar'st.

Gold. Heere is thy fee, arreſt him Officer.
I would not ſpare my brother in this cafe,
If he should ſcorne me ſo apparently.

Offic. I do arreſt you fir, you heare the ſuite.

Anti. I do obey thee, till I giue thee baile.
But firrah, you ſhall buy this ſport as deere,
As all the metall in your ſhop will anſwer.

Gold. Sir, fir, I ſhall haue Law in Ephesus,
To your notorious ſhame, I doubt it not.

Enter Dromio Sir. from the Bay.

Dro. Maſter, there's a Barke of Epidamium,
That ſtaies but till her Owner comes aboord,
And then fir ſhe beares away. Our fraughtage fir,
I haue conue'd aboord, and I haue bought
The Oyle, the Balfamum, and Aqua-vitæ.
The ſhip is in her, trim, the merrie winde
Blowes faire from land : they ſtay for nought at all,
But for their Owner, Maſter, and your ſelfe.

Anti. How now ? a Madman? Why thou peecuſh ſheep
What ſhip of Epidamium ſtaies for me.

S. Dro. A ſhip you ſent me too, to her waſtage.
Anti. Thou drunken ſlaue, I ſent thee for a rope,
And told thee to what purpose, and what end.

S. Dro. You ſent me for a ropes end as ſoone,
You ſent me to the Bay fir, for a Barke.

Anti. I will debate this matter at more leifure
And teach your eares to lift me with more heede :
To Adriana Villaine hie thee ſtraight:

Gue her this key, and tell her in the Deske
That's couer'd o're with Turkifh Tapifthe,
There is a purſe of Ducks, let her ſend it :

Tell her, I am arreſted in the ſtreete,
And that shall baile me : hie thee ſlaue, be gone,
On Officer to prifon, till it come.

Exeunt

S. Dromio. To Adriana, that is where we din'd,
Where Dowſabell did claim me for her husband,
She is too bigge I hope for me to compaſſe,
Thither I muſt, although againſt my will:

For ſeruants muſt their Maſters mindeſs ſubfill,

Exii

Enter Adriana and Luciana.

Adr. Ah Luciana, did he tempt me ſo ?
Might'ſt thou perceiue auſteereely in his eie,
That he did plead in earneſt, yea or no :
Look'd he or red or pale, or ſad or merrily ?
What obſeruation mad'ſt thou in this cafe ?
Oh, his hearts Meteors tilting in his face.

Luc. First he deni'd you had in him no right.

Adr. He meant he did me none : the more my ſpight

Luc. Then ſwore he that he was a ſtranger heere.

Adr. And true he ſwore, though yet forſworne hee
were.

Luc. Then pleaded I for you.

Adr. And what ſaid he ?

Luc. That loue I begg'd for you, he begg'd of me.

Adr. With what perſwasion did he tempt thy loue ?

Luc. With words, that in an honeſt ſuit might moue.

First, he did praisè my beautitie, then my ſpeech.

Adr. Did it ſpeake him faire ?

Luc. Hauing patience I beſeeth.

Adr. I cannot, nor I will not hold me ſill,
My tongue, though not my heart, shall haue his will.
He is deformed, crooked, old, and ſere,
Ill-fac'd, worse bodied, ſhapeſſe every where :
Vicious, vngentle, foolish, blunt, vnkinde,

Stigma-

94

The Comedie of Errors.

Stigmatically in making w orfe in minde,

Luc. Who would be jealous then of such a one?

No euill loft is wail'd, when it is gone.

Adr. Ah but I thinke him better then I say :

And yet would herein others cies were worfe :

Farre from her neft the Lapwing cries away ;

My heart prales for him, though my tongue, does curfe.

Enter S. Dromio.

Dro. Here goe: the deske, the purse, sweet now make hafe.

Luc. How haft thou loft thy breath?

S. Dro. By running faft.

Adr. Where is thy Mafter Dromio ? Is he well?

S. Dro. No, he's in Tartar limbo, worfe then hell:

A duell in an everlasting garment hath him;

On whose hard heart is button'd vp with steele:

A Feind, a Fairie, pittileffe and ruffe :

A Wolfe, may worfe, a fellow all in buffe:

A back friend, a shoulder-clapper, one that countermads

The paffages of allies, creeks, and narrow lands:

A hound that runs Counter, and yet draws drifoot well,

One that before the Iudgmet poore foules to hel.

Adr. Why man, what is the matter?

S. Dro. I doe not know the matter, hee is refped on the cafe.

Adr. What is he arrefted? tell me at whose suite?

S. Dro. I know not at whose suite he is arrefted well; but is in a suite of buffe which refped him, that can I tell, will you send him Miftris redemption, the monie in his deske.

Adr. Go fetch it Sifter : this I wonder at.

Exit Luciana.

Thus he vnknowne to me should be in debt :

Tell me, was he arefted on a band?

S. Dro. Not on a band, but on a stronger thing :

A chaine, a chaine, doe you not here it ring.

Adria. What, the chaine?

S. Dro. No, no, the bell, 'tis time that I were gone :

It was two ere I left him, and now the clocke strikes one.

Adr. The houres come backe, that did I neuer here.

S. Dro. O yes, if any houre meete a Sericant, a turnes backe for verie feare.

Adri. As if time were in debt: how fondly do'st thou reason?

S. Dro. Time is a verie bankerout, and owes more then he's worth to reason.

Nay, he's a thefe too: haue you not heard men say,

That time comes it fealing on by night and day?

If I be in debt and theft, and a Sericant in the way,

Hath he not reason to turne backe an houre in a day?

Enter Luciana.

Adr. Go Dromio, there's the monie, beare it straight,
And bring thy Mafter home immediately.

Come Sifter, I am preft downe with conceit :

Conceit, my comfort and my ieustie.

Exit.

Enter Antiphus Siracusa.

There's not a man I meete but doth salute me

As if I were their well acquainted friend,

And euuer one doth call me by my name :

Some tender monie to me, some inuite me ;

Some other give me thanks for kindnesse :

Some offer me Commodities to buy.

Euen now a tailor cal'd me in his shop,

And show'd me Silkes that he had bought for me,

And therewithall tooke measure of my body.

Sure these are but imaginarie wiles,

And lapland Sorcerers inhabite here.

Enter Dromio, Sr.

S. Dro. Mafter, here's the gold you fent me for: what haue you got the picture of old Adam new apparel'd?

Ant. What gold is this? What Adam do'st, thou meane?

S. Dro. Not that Adam that kept the Paradife: but that Adam that keepes the prifons, hee that goes in the calues-skin, that was kil'd for the Prodigall: hee that came behind you fir, like an euill angel, and bid you for-fake your libertie.

Ant. I vnderstand thee not.

S. Dro. No? why'tis a plaine cafe: he that went like a Bare-Viole in a cafe of leather; the man fir, that when gentlemen are tired giues them a fob, and refts him: he fir, that takes pittie on decaid men, and giues them fuites of durance: he that fets vp his reft to doe more ex-plotts with his Mace, then a Moris Pike.

Ant. What thou mean't an officer?

S. Dro. I fir, the Sericant of the Band: he that brings any man to anwer it that breaks his Band: one that thinkes a man alwaies going to bed, and faies, God giue you good reft.

Ant. Well fir, there reft in your foolerie :

Is there any flips puts forth to night? may we be gone?

S. Dro. Why fir, I brought you word an houre since,
that the Barke Expedition put forth to night, and then
were you hindred by the Sericant to carry for the Hoy
Delay: Here are the angels that you ſent for to deliver
you.

Ant. The fellow is diftraet, and so am I,

And here we wander in illusions :

Some bleſſed power deliver vs from hence.

Enter a Curtizan.

Cur. Well met, well met, Mafter Antiphusa :

I fee fir you have found the Gold, Smith now :

Is that the chaine you promis'd me to day?

Ant. Sathan auoide, I charge thee tempt me not,

S. Dro. Mafter, is this Miftris Sathan?

Ant. It is the diuell.

S. Dro. Nay, she is worſe, she is the diuels dam :

And here she comes in the habit of a light wench, and
thereof comes, that the wenches fay God dam me, That's
as much to fay, God make me a light wench: It is writ-
ten, they appeare to men like angels of light, light is an
effect of fire, and fire will burne : ergo, light wenches will
burne, come not neere her.

Cur. Your man and you are maruailous merrie fir.

Will you goe with me, wee'll mend our dinner here?

S. Dro. Mafter, if do expect a spoone-meate, or be speake
along a spoone.

Ant. Why Dromio?

S. Dro. Marrie he must haue a long spoone that must
cate with the diuell.

Ant. Auoid then fiend, what tel't thou me of sup-
Thou art, as you are all a forcerelle: (ping)
I coniure thee to leaue me, and be gon.

Cur. Giue me the ring of mine you had at dinner,
Or for my Diamond the Chaine you promis'd,
And Ile be gone fir, and not trouble you.

S. Dro. Some diuels aske but the parings of ones nails,

a

The Comedie of Errors.

95

a rufh, a haire, a drop of blood, a pin, a nut, a cherrie-
stone: but the more coucous, wold haue a chaine: Ma-
fer be wife, and if you giue it her, the diuell will shake
her Chaine, and fright vs with it.

Cur. I pray you fir my Ring, or else the Chaine,
I hope you do not meane to cheate me for?

Ant. Auant thou witch: Come Dramio let vs go.

S. Dro. Flie pride faies the Pea-cocke, Miftris that you know. Exit.

Cur. Now out of doubt Antipholes is mad,
Elfe would he neuer so demeane himselfe,
A Ring he hath of mine worth fortie Ducks,
And for the fame he promis'd me a Chaine,
Both one and other he denies me now :
The reafon that I gather he is mad,
Befides this prefent infance of his rage,
Is a mad tale he told to day at dinner,
Of his owne doores being flut againft his entrance.
Belike his wife acquainted with his fit,
On purpose flut the doores againft his way :
My way is now to hie home to his house,
And tell his wife, that being Lunaticke,
He rufh'd into my house, and tooke perforce
My Ring away. This courfe I fitteft choofe,
For fortie Ducks is too much to loofe.

Enter Antipholes Epheſ. with a Tailor.

An. Feare me not man, I will not breake away,
Ile giue thee ere I leaue thee so much money
To warrant thee as I am refted for,
My wife is in a wayward moode to day,
And will not lightly truſt the Meſſenger,
That I should be attach'd in Epheſies,
I tell you 'twill found harſhly in her eares.

Enter Dromio Epb. with a ropo end.

Heere comes my Man, I thinke he brings the monie.
How now fir? Haue you that I ſent you for?

E. Dro. Here's that I warrant you will pay them all.

Anti. But where's the Money?

E. Dro. Why fir, I gaue the Monie for the Rope.

Ant. Five hundred Ducks villaine for a rope?

E. Dro. Ile ſerue you fir five hundred at the rate.

Anti. To what end did I bid thee hie thee home?

E. Dro. To a ropes end fir, and to that end am I return'd.

Ant. And to that end fir, I will welcome you.

Offi. Good fir be patient.

E. Dro. Nay 'tis for me to be patient, I am in aduertiſiſt.

Offi. Good now hold thy tongue.

E. Dro. Nay, rather perſwade him to hold his hands.

Anti. Thou whore ſon ſenſeleſſe Villaine.

E. Dro. I would I were ſenſeleſſe fir, that I might not feele your blowes.

Anti. Thou art ſenſible in nothing but blowes, and so is an Aſſe.

E. Dro. I am an Aſſe indeede, you may prooue it by
my long eares. I haue ſerued him from the houre of my
Natiuilitie to this inſtant, and haue nothing at his hands
for my ſeruice but blowes. When I am cold, he heates
me with beating: when I am warme, he cooles me with
beating: I am wak'd with it when I sleepe, rais'd with
it when I fit, driven out of doores with it when I goe
from home, welcom'd home with it when I returne, nay

I beare it on my shoulders, as a begger woont her brat:
and I thinke when he hath lam'd me, I shall begge with
it from doore to doore.

Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtizan, and a Schoole-
maſter, call'd Pinch.

Ant. Come goe along, my wife is comming yonder.

E. Dro. Miftris reſſice finem, reſpect your end, or ra-
ther the propheſie like the Parrat, beware the ropes end.

Anti. Wilt thou ſtill talke?

Beats Dro.

Curt. How ſay you now? Is not your husband mad ?

Adri. His inciuility confirmes no leſſe:
Good Doctor Pinch, you are a Coniurer,
Eſtablish him in his true ſence againe,
And I will pleafe you what you will demand.

Luc. Alas how ſiery, and how ſharpe he lookes.

Curt. Marke, how he trembles in his extaſſie.

Pinch. Giue me your hand, and let mee feele your pulſe.

Ant. There is my hand, and let it feele your eare.

Pinch. I charge thee Sathan, houſ'd within this man,
To yeeld poffeſſion to my holie praiers,
And to thy ſtate of darkneſſe hie thee straight,
I coniure thee by all the Saints in heauen.

Anti. Peace doting wizard, peace; I am not mad.

Adr. Oh that thou wer't not, poore diſſretſed ſoule.

Anti. You Minion you, are the ſe you Cuctomers?
Did this Companion with the saffron ſace

Reuell and feaſt it at my houſe to day,
Whil't vpon me the guiltie doores were flut,
And I denied to enter in my houſe.

Adr. O husband, God dorth know you din'd at home
Where would you had remain'd vntill this time,
Free from theſe ſlanders, and this open ſhame.

Anti. Din'd at home ? Thou Villaine, what ſayſt thou?

Dro. Sir footh to ſay, you did not dine at home.

Anti. Were not my doores lockt vp, and I flut out?

Dro. Perdie, your doores were lockt, and you flut out.

Anti. And did not ſhe her ſelfe renile me there?

Dro. Sans Fable, ſhe her ſelfe reuil'd you there.

Anti. Did not her Kitchen maide raile, taunt, and ſcorne me?

Dro. Certs ſhe did, the kitchin veſtall ſcorn'd you.

Anti. And did not I in rage depart from ſhence?

Dro. In veritie you did, my bones beares witneſſe,
That ſince haue felt the vigor of his rage.

Adr. Is't good to footh him in the ſontraries?

Pinch. It is no ſhame, the fellow finds his vaine,
And yeelding to him, humors well his frenſie.

Anti. Thou haſt ſubborn'd the Goldſmith to arreſt mee.

Adr. Alas, I ſent you Monie to redeeme you,
By Dromio heere, who came in haſt for it.

Dro. Monie by me? Heart and good will you might,
But ſurely Maſter not a ragge of Monie.

Anti. Went not not thou to her for a purſe of Ducks.

Adri. He came to me, and I deliuer'd it.

Luci. And I am witneſſe with her that ſhe did:

Dro. God and the Rope-maker beare me witneſſe,
That I was ſent for nothing but a rope.

Pinch. Miftris, both Man and Maſter is poffeſſ,
I know it by their pale and deadly lookes,

They

The Comedie of Errors.

97

Enter Ladie Abbeſſe.

Ab. Be quiet people, wherefore throng you hither?

Adr. To fetch my poore diftracted husband hence,
Let vs come in, that we may binde him faſt,
And bear his home for my recouerie.

Gold. I knew he vvas not in his perſect wits.

Mar. I am forry now that I did draw on him.

Ab. How long hath this poffeffion held the man.

Adr. This weeke he hath beene heaſe, ſower ſad,
And much different from the man he was :

But till this afternoone his paffion

Ne're brake into extremity of rage.

Ab. Hath he not loft much wealth by wrack of ſea,
Buried ſome decre friend, hath not eſſe his eye
Stray'd his affection in vlawſull loue,
A ſinne preuailing much in youthfull men,
Who giue their eies the liberty of gazing.

Which of these ſorrowes is he ſubiect too?

Adr. To none of these, except it be the laſt,
Namely, ſome loue that drew him oft from home.

Ab. You ſhould for that haue reprehended him.

Adr. Why ſo I did.

Ab. I but not rough enough.

Adr. As roughly as my mod ſeſt would let me.

Ab. Haply in private.

Adr. And in affemblies too.

Ab. I, but not enough.

Adr. It was the copie of our Conference.

In bed he vſlept not for my vrging it.

At boord he fed not for my vrging it:

Alone, it was the ſubiect of my Theame :

In company I often glanced it:

Still did I tell him, it was vilde and bad.

Ab. And thereof came it, that the man was mad.
The venome clamors of a iculous woman,
Poisons more deadly then a mad dogges tooth.
It ſeemes his ſleepes were hindred by thy railing,
And thereof comes it that his head is light.

Thou faſt his meate was ſaw'd with thy vpbraidings,
Vnquiet meales make ill digestions,
Thereof the raging fire of ſeauer bred,
And what's a ſeauer, but a fit of madneſſe?

Thou ſayt his ſports were hindred by thy bralles.

Sweet recreacion barr'd, what doth enſue

But moodie and dull melancholly,

Kinfman to grim and comfortleſſe diſpaire,

And at her heele a huge infectious troope

Of pale diſtemperatures, and foes to life?

In food, in ſport, and life-preſeruing reſt

To be diſturb'd, would mad or man, or beaſt:

The conſequence is then, thy jealous ſits

Hath ſcar'd thy husband from the vſc of wits.

Luc. She neuer reprehended him but mildly,

When he demeand himſelfe, rough, rude, and wildly,
Why beare you theſe rebukes, and anſwer not?

Adr. She did betray me to my owne reſpooſe,
Good people enter, and lay hold on him.

Ab. No, not a creature enters in my houſe.

Ad. Then let your ſeruants bring my husband forth

Ab. Neither the tooke this place for ſanctuary,
And it shall pruіlidge him from your hands,
Till I haue brought him to his wits againe,
Or looke my labour in aſſaying it.

Adr. I will attend my husband, be his nurſe,

Diet his ſickneſſe, for it is my Office,
And will haue no atturney but my ſelſe,
And therefore let me haue him home with me.¹

Ab. Be patient, for I will not let him ſtirre,
Till I haue vs'd the approoued means I haue,
With wholſome firrups, drugges, and holy prayers
To make of him a formall man againe :

It is a branch and parcell of mine oath,

A charitable dutie of my order,

Therefore depart, and leaue him heere with me.

Adr. I will not hence, and leaue my husband heere:
And ill it doth beſeeme your holineſſe
To ſeparate the husband and the wife.

Ab. Be quiet and depart, thou fhalt not haue him.

Luc. Complaine vnto the Duke of this indignity.

Adr. Come go, I will fall proſtrate at his feete,

And neuer rife vntill my teares and prayers

Hae won his grace to come in perſon hither,

And take perſorce my husband from the Abbeſſe.

Mar. By this I thinke the Diall points at ſiue:

Anon I’me ured the Duke himſelfe in perſon

Comes this way to the melancholly vale;

The place of depth, and forrie execution,

Behinde the ditches of the Abbey heere.

Gold. Vpon what cauſe?

Mar. To fee a reuerent Sirach ſian Merchant,

Who put vnluckily into this Bay

Againſt the Lawes and Statutes of this Towne,

Beheaded publikely for his offence.

Gold. See where they come, we will behold his death

Luc. Kneele to the Duke before he paffe the Abbey.

Enter the Duke of Ephesus, and the Merchant of Stracust
bare head, with the Headman, & other Officers.

Duke. Yet once againe proclaime it publikely,
If any friend will pay the fumme for him,
He ſhall not die, ſo much we tender him.

Adr. Iſtice moſt ſacred Duke againſt the Abbeſſe.

Duke. She is a vertuous and a reuerend Lady,
It cannot be that ſhe hath done thee wrong.

Adr. May it please your Grace, Antiphus my husbād,
Who I made Lord of me, and all I had,

At your important Letters this ill day,

A moſt outragious fit of madneſſe tooke him:

That deſp’rately he hurried through the firete,

With him his bondman, all as mad as he,

Doing diſpleasure to the Citizens,

By rufing in their houſes : bearing thence

Rings, Iewels, any thing his rage did like.

Once did I get him bound, and ſent him home,

Whilft to take order for the wrongs I went,

That heere and there his ſurie had committed,

Anon I wot not, by what strong eſcape

He broke from thofe that had the guard of him,

And with his mad attendant and himſelfe,

Each one with irefull paffion, with drawne ſwords

Met vs againe, and madly bent on vs

Chac’d vs away: till raſing of more aide

We came againe to binde them : then they ſled

Into this Abbey, whether we puruſ’d them,

And heere the Abbeſſe ſhuts the gates on vs,

And will not ſuffer vs to fetch him out,

Nor ſend him forth, that we may beare him hence.

Therefore

I

98

The Comedie of Errors.

Therefore most gracious Duke with thy command,
Let him be brought forth, and borne hence for helpe.

Duke. Long since thy husband feru'd me in my wars
And to thee ingag'd a Princes word,
When thou didst make him Mafter of thy bed,
To do him all the grace and good I could,
Go fome of you, knocke at the Abbey gate,
And bid the Lady Abbeſſe come to me:
I will determine this before I ſtirre.

Enter a Messenger.

Oh Miftris, Miftris, ſhift and taue your ſelſe,
My Maſter and his man are both broke looke,
Beaten the Maids a-row, and bound the Doctor,
Whofe beard they haue findg'd off with brands of fire,
And euer as it blaz'd, they threw on him
Great pailes of puddled myre to quench the haire;
My M' preaches patience to him, and the while
His man with Cizers nickes him like a ſoole :
And ſure (vnleſſe you ſend ſome preſent helpe)
Betweene them they will kill the Coniurer.

Adr. Peace ſoole, thy Maſter and his man are here,
And that is falſe thou doſt report to vs.

Meff. Miftris, vpon my life I tel you true,
I haue not breath'd almoſt ſince I did ſee it.
He cries for you, and vowes if he can take you,
To ſcorch your face, and to disfigure you :

Cry within.

Harke, harke, I heare him Miftris: ſlie, be gone.

Duke. Come stand by me, ſeare nothing: guard with
Halberds.

Adr. Ay me, it is my husband: witneſſe you,
That he is borne about inuible,
Euen now we hous'd him in the Abbey heere.
And now he's there, paſt thought of humane reaſon.

Enter Antiphus, and E. Dromio of Ephesus.

(flice, E. Ant. Iuſtice most gracious Duke, oh grant me iu-
Euen for the ſeruice that long ſince I did thee,
When I beſtrid thee in the warres, and tooke
Deepe ſcarres to ſue thy life; euen for the blood
That then I loſt for thee, now grant me iuſtice.
Mar. Fat. Vnleſſe the ſeare of death doth make me
dore, I ſee my ſonne Antiphus and Dromio.
E. Ant. Iuſtice (sweet Prince) againſt y Woman there:
She whom thou gauſt to me to be my wife;
That hath abuſed and diſhonored me,
Euen in the ſtrength and height of inuirie :
Beyond imagination is the wrong
That ſhe this day hath ſhameleſſe throwne on me.
Duke. Diſcover how, and thou ſhalt finde me iuſt.
E. Ant. This day (great Duke) ſhe ſhut the doores
upon me,
While ſhe with Harlots ſeaſted in my house.
Duke. A greeuous ſault: ſay woman, didſt thou so?
Adr. No my good Lord. My ſelſe, he, and my ſiſter,
To day did dine together: ſo beſall my ſoule,
As this is falſe he burthens me withall.
Luc. Nere may I looke on day, nor ſleepe on night,
But ſhe tels to your Highneſſe ſimple truth.
Gold. O periu'd woman! They are both forſworne,
In this the Madman iuſtly chargeth them.
E. Ant. My Liege, I am aduſed what I ſay,
Neither diſturbed with the effect of Wine,
Nor headie-raſh prouoak'd with raging ire,
Albeit my wrongs might make one wiser mad.

This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner;
That Goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with her,
Could witneſſe it: for he was with me then,
Who parted with me to go fetch a Chaine,
Promiling to bring it to the Porpentine,
Where Balthasar and I did dine together.
Our dinner done, and he not comming thither,
I went to ſeeke him. In the ſtreet I met him,
And in his companie that Gentleman.
There did this periu'd Goldsmith ſware me downe,
That I this day of him receiu'd the Chaine,
Which God he knowes, I ſaw not. For the which,
He did arreſt me with an Officer.
I did obey, and ſent my Pefant home
For certaine Ducteſ: he with none return'd.
Then fairely I beſpoke the Officer
To go in perſon with me to my houſe.
By th'way, we met my wife, her ſiſer, and a rabble more
Of vilde Confederates: Along with them
They brought one Pinch, a hungry leane ſac'd Villaine;
A meere Anatomie, a Montebanke;
A thred-bare Iugler, and a Fortune-teller,
A needy-hollow-ey'd ſharpe-looking-wretch;
A liuing dead man. This pernicious ſlave,
Forſooth tooke on him as a Coniurer:
And gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulſe,
And with no-face (as 'twere) out-facing me,
Cries out, I was poſſeſt. Then altogether
They fell vpon me, bound me, bore me thence,
And in a darke and dankiſh vault at home
There left me and my man, both bound together,
Till gnawing with my teeth my bonds in ſunder,
I gain'd my freedome; and immediately
Ran hether to your Grace, whom I beſeech
To giue me ample ſatisfaction
For theſe deepe ſhames, and great indignities.

For theſe deepe ſhames, and great indignities.
Gold. My Lord, in truth, thus far I witnes with him:
That he din'd not at home, but was lock'd out.
Duke. But had he ſuch a Chaine of thee, or no?
Gold. He had my Lord, and when he ran in heere,
Theſe people ſaw the Chaine about his necke.

Mar. Befides, I will be ſworne theſe eares of mine,
Heard you conſeſſe you had the Chaine of him,
After you firſt forſwore it on the Mart,
And thereupon I drew my ſword on you:
And then you ſled into this Abbey heere,
From whence I thinke you are come by Miracle.
E. Ant. I neuer came within theſe Abbey wals,
Nor euer didſt thou draw thy ſword on me :
I neuer ſaw the Chaine, ſo helpe me heauen:
And this is falſe you burthen me withall.
Duke. Why what an intricate impeach is this ?
I thinke you all haue drunke of Cirees cup:
If heere you hous'd him, heere he would haue bin,
If he were mad, he would not pleade ſo coldly :
You ſay he din'd at home, the Goldsmith heere
Denies that ſaying. Sirra, what ſay you?

E. Dro. Sir he din'd with her there, at the Porpen-
tine.
Cur. He did, and from my finger ſnact that Ring.
E. Anti. Tis true (my Liege) this Ring I had of her.
Duke. Saw ſt thou him enter at the Abbey heere?

Curt. As ſure (my Liege) as I do ſee your Grace.
Duke. Why this is ſtraunge: Go call the Abbeſſe his
ther.
I thinke you are all mated, or ſtarke mad.

Exit

The Comedie of Errors.

99

Exit one to the Abbeſſe.

Fa. Moſt mighty Duke, vouchſaſe me ſpeak a word:
Haply I fee a friend will ſaue my life,
And pay the ſum that may deliuer me.

Duke. Speake freely Siracuſan what thou wilt.

Fatb. Is not your name fir call'd Antipholus?

And is not that your bondman Dromio?

E. Dro. Within this houre I was his bondman fir,
But he I chanke him gnaw'd in two my cords,
Now am I Dromio, and his man, vnbound.

Fatb. I am ſure you both of you remember me.

Dro. Our ſelues we do remember fir by you :

For lately we were bound as you are now.

You are not Pinches patient, are you fir?

Father. Why looke you ſtrange on me? you know
me well.

E. Ant. I neuer ſaw you in my life till now.

Fa. Oh! griekc hath chang'd me ſince you ſaw me laſt,
And careful houres with times deformed hand,
Hae written ſtrange defeatures in my face :
But tell me yet, doſt thou not know my voice?

Ant. Neicher.

Fat. Dromio, nor thou?

Dro. No truſt me fir, nor I.

Fa. I am ſure thou doſt?

E. Dromio. I fir, but I am ſure I do not, and whatſo-
euer a man denies, you are now bound to beleeue him.

Fatb. Not know my voice, oh times e tremity
Haſt thou ſo crack'd and ſplltted my poore tongue
In ſeuen ſhort yeares, that heere my only ſonne
Knowes not my feeble key of vntun'd cares?

Though now this grained face of mine be hid
In ſap-confuming Winters drizzled ſnow,
And all the Conduits of my blood froze vp :

Yet hath my night of life ſome memorie :
My waſting lampes ſome fading glimmer left ;
My dull deafe eares a little vſe to heare :

All these old witneſſes, I cannot erre.
Tell me, thou art my ſonne Antipholus.

Ant. I neuer ſaw my Father in my life.

Fa. But ſeuen yeares ſince, in Siracuſa boy.
Thou know't we parted, but perhaps my ſonne,
Thou ſham't to acknowledge me in miferie.

Ant. The Duke, and all that know me in the City,
Can witneſſe with me that it is not ſo.

I ne're ſaw Siracuſa in my life.

Duke. I tell thee Siracuſan, twentie yeares
Hae I bin Patron to Antipholus,

During which time, he ne're ſaw Siracuſa :
I fee thy age and dangers make thee dote.

Enter the Abbeſſe with Antipholus Siracuſa,
and Dromio Sir.

Abbeſſe. Moſt mightie Duke, behold a man much
wrong'd.

All gather to ſee them.

Adr. I fee two husbands, or mine eyes deceiue me.

Duke. One of theſe men is geniua to the other :
And ſo of theſe, which is the naturall man,
And which the ſpirit ? Who deciphers them?

S. Dromio. I Sir am Dromio, command him away.

E. Dro. I Sir am Dromio, pray let me stay.

S. Ant. Egeon art thou not? or else his ghoſt.

S. Drom. Oh my olde Maſter, who hath bound him
heree?

Abb. Who euer bound him, I will ſoſe his bonds,
And gaine a husband by his libertie :
Speake olde Egeon, if thou bee't the man
That hadſt a wife once call'd Æmilia,

That bore thee at a burthen two faire ſonnes?

Oh if thou bee't the fame Egeon, ſpeaketh
And ſpeake vnto the fame Æmilia.

Duke. Why heere begins his Morning ſtorie right:
These two Antipholus, these two ſo like,

And these two Dromio's, one in ſemblance:

Befides her vrging of her wracke at ſea,

These are the parents to theſe children,

Which accidentally are met together.

Fa. If I dreame not, thou are Æmilia,
If thou art ſhe, tell me, where is that ſonne

That floated with thee on the fatall rafte.

Abb. By men of Epidamium, he, and I,

And the twin Dromio, all were taken vp ;

But by and by, rude Fishermen of Corinth

By force tooke Dromio, and my ſonne from them,

And me they left with theſe of Epidamiums.

What then became of them, I cannot tell :

I, to this fortune that you fee mce in.

Duke. Antipholus thou can't from Corinth firſt.

S. Ant. No fir, not I, I came from Siracuſe.

Duke. Stay, ſand apart, I know not which is which.

E. Ant. I came from Corinth my moſt gracious Lord

E. Dro. And I with him.

E. Ant. Brought to this Town by that moſt famous
Warriour,

Duke Menaphon, your moſt renowned Vnkleckle.

Adr. Which of you two did dine with me to day?

S. Ant. I, gentle Miftris.

Adr. And are not you my husband?

E. Ant. No, I ſay nay to that.

S. Ant. And ſo do I, yet did ſhe call me ſo :

And this faire Gentlewoman her after heere
Did call me brother. What I told you then,
I hope I ſhall haueleisure to make good,
If this be not a dreame I fee and heere.

Goldsmith. That is the Chaine fir, which you had of
mce.

S. Ant. I thinke it be fir, I denie it not.

E. Ant. And you fir for this Chaine arreſted me.

Gold. I thinke I did fir, I deny it not.

Adr. I ſent you monie fir to be your baile

By Dromio, but I thinke he brought it not.

E. Dro. No, none by me.

S. Ant. This purſe of Ducks I recei'd from you,
And Dromio my man did bring them me :

I fee we ſtill did meete each others man,
And I was tane for him, and he for me,
And thereupon theſe errors are aroſe.

E. Ant. Theſe Ducks pawne I for my father heere.

Duke. It ſhall not neede, thy father hath his life.

Cur. Sir I muſt haue that Diamond from you.

E. Ant. There take it, and much thanks for my good
cheere.

Abb. Renowned Duke, vouchſaſe to take the paines
To go with vs into the Abbey heere,

And heare at large diſcourſed all our fortunes,
And all that are affembled in this place:

That by this ſimpathized one daies error
Hae ſuffer'd wrong. Goe, keepe vs companie,

I. 2

And

100

The Comedie of Errors.

And we shall make full satisfaction.
Thirtie three yeares haue I but gone in trauaile
Of you my fonnes, and till this prentest houre
My heauie burthen are deliuered of:
The Duke my husband, and my children both,
And you the Kalenders of their Natiuity,
Go to a Goffips feaſt, and go with mee,
After so long greeſe ſuch Natiuitie.
*Duke.* With all my heart, Ile Goffip at this feaſt.

Exeunt omnes.
Manet the two Dromio's and
two Brothers.

S. Dro. Maſt, ſhall I fetch your ſtuffe from ſhipbord?
E. An. Dromio, what ſtuffe of mine haſt thou imbarkt?
S. Dro. Your goods that lay at hoſt fir in the Centaur.
S. Ant. He speaks to me, I am your maſter Dromio.

Come go with vs, wee'l looke to that anon,
Embrace thy brother there, reioyce with him.
*Exit*

S. Dro. There is a fat friend at your maſters houſe,
That kitchin'd me for you to day at dinner:
She now ſhall be my ſister, not my wife,

E. D. Me thinks you are my glaſſe, & not my brother:
I fee by you, I am a ſweet, ſac'd youth,
Will you walke in to fee their goſſipping?

S. Dro. Not I fir, you are my elder.

E. Dro. That's a queſtion, how ſhall we trie it?

S. Dro. Wee'l draw Cuts for the Signior, till then,
lead thou firſt.

E. Dro. Nay then thus:

We came into the world like brother and brother:

And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another.

Exeunt.

FINIS.

101

Much adoe about Nothing.

A Actus primus, Scena prima.

Enter Leonato. Governor of Messina, Innogen his wife, He-
ro his daughter, and Beatrice his Neece, with a meffenger!

Leonato.

Leame in this Letter, that Don Peter of Arra-
gon, comes this night to Messina.

Mess. He is very neere by this : he was not
three Leagues off when I left him.

Leon. How many Gentlemen haue you loft in this action?

Mess. But few of any sort, and none of name.

Leon. A victorie is twice it selfe, when the atchieuer brings home full numbers : I finde here, that Don Peter hath beftowed much honor on a yong Florentine, called Claudio.

Mess. Much deferu'd on his part, and equally remem-
bred by Don Pedro, he hath borne himfelfe beyond the
promife of his age, doing in the figure of a Lambe, the
feats of a Lion, he hath indeede better bettred expeſtation,
then you muſt expeſt of me to tell you how.

Leo. He hath an Vnckle heere in Messina, will be very much glad of it.

Mess. I haue alreadye deliuered him letters, and there
appeares much ioy in him, euen so much, that ioy'could
not ſhow it selfe modeſt enough, without a badg of bit-
terneſſe.

Leon. Did he breake out into teares ?

Mess. In great meaſure.

Leo. A kinde ouerflow of kindneſſe, there are no fa-
ces truer, then thate that are ſo waſh'd, how much bet-
ter is it to weepe at ioy, then to ioy at weeping?

Bea. I pray you, is Signior Mountano return'd from
the warres, or no?

Mess. I know none of that name, Lady, there was
none ſuch in the armie of any ſort.

Leon. What is he that you aske for Neece?

Hero. My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua.

Mess. O he's return'd, and as pleafant as euer he was.

Beat. He fet vp his bils here in Messina, & challeſd Cupid at the Flight : and my Vnckles foole reading the Challenge, ſubſcrib'd for Cupid, and challeſd him at the Burbolt. I pray you, how many hath hee kiſ'd and eaten in theſe warres? But how many hath he kiſ'd? for indeed, I promis'd to eate all of his killing.

Leon. 'Faith Neece, you taxe Signior Benedicke too
much, but hee'll be meet with you, I doubt it nor.

Mess. He hath done good ſeruice Lady in theſe wars.

Beat. You had muſt viectuall, and he hath holpe to case it: he's a very valiant Trencher-man, hee hath an excellent flomacke.

Mess. And a good ſouldier too Lady.

Beat. And a good ſouldier to a Lady. But what is he to a Lord?

Mess. A Lord to a Lord, a man to a man, ſtuff with all honourable vertues.

Beat. It is ſo indeed, he is no leſſe then a ſtuff man:
but for the ſtuffing well, we are all mortall.

Leon. You muſt not (ſir) miſtake my Neece, there is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick, & her : they neuer meet, but there's a skirmish of wit between them.

Bea. Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our laſt con-
flict, foure of his ſue wits went halting off, and now is
the whole man gouern'd with one : ſo that if hee haue
wit enough to keepe himſelfe warme, let him beare it
for a difference betweene himſelfe and his horſe: For it
is all the wealth that he hath left, to be knowne a reafo-
nable creature. Who is his companion now? He hath
eueru month a new ſworne brother.

Mess. I'ſt poſſible?

Beat. Very easily poſſible: he weares his faith but as the fashion of his hat, it euer changes with ſ next block.

Mess. I fee (Lady) the Gentleman is not in your bookes.

Bea. No, and he were, I would burne 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 diuell?

Mess. He is moſt in the company of the right noble Claudio.

Beat. O Lord, he will hang vpon him like a diſeafe:
he is ſooner caught then the peltillence, and the taker
runs prefentely mad. God helpe the noble Claudio, if hee
haue caught the Benediſt, it will coſt him a thouſand
pound ere he be cur'd.

Mess. I will hold friends with you Lady.

Bea. Do good friend.

Leo. You I ne're run mad Neece.

Bea. No, not till a hot January.

Mess. Don Pedro is approach'd.

Enter don Pedro, Claudio, Benedicks, Balthasar,
and John the Baſtard.

Pedro. Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet
your trouble : the fashion of the world is to auoid coſt,
and you encounter it.

Leon. Neuer came trouble to my house in the likenes
of your Grace: for trouble being gone, comfort ſhould
remaine: but when you depart from me, ſorrow abides,
and happinesſe takes his leaue.

13

Pedro.

Much adoe about Nothing.

102

Pedro. You embrace your charge too willingly: I thinke this is your daughter.

Leonato. Her mother hath many times told me so.

Bene. Were you in doubt that you askt her?

Leonato. Signior Benedicke, no, for then were yon a
childe.

Pedro. You haue it full Benedicke, we may gheffe by this, what you are, being a man, truely the Lady fathers her felfe: be happy Lady, for you are like an honorable father.

Ben. If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not haue his head on her shoulders for al Melfina, as like him as she is.

Beat. I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedicke, no body markes you.

Ben. What my deere Ladie Disdaine ! are you yet liuing?

Beat. Is it possible Disdaine should die, while shee hath fuch meete foode to feede it, as Signior Benedicke? Curtesie it selfe muſt convert to Disdaine, if you come in her prefence.

Bene. Then is curtesie a turne-coate, but it is certaine I am looned of all Ladies, onely you excepted: and I would I could finde in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truely I loue none.

Beat. A deere happineſſe to women, they would ſelſe, haue beene troubled with a pernicious Suer, I thanke God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that, I had rather heare my Dog barke at a Crow, than a man ſware he loues me.

Bene. God keepe your Ladiship ſill in that minde, ſo ſome Gentleman or other ſhall ſcape a predeſtinate scratcht face.

Beat. Scratchng could not make it worle, and 'twere ſuch a face as yours were.

Bene. Well, you are a rare Parrat teacher.

Beat. A bird of my tongue, is better than a beaſt of your.

Ben. I would my horſe had the ſpeed of your tongue, and ſo good a continuer, but keepe your way a God's name, I haue done.

Beat. You alwaies end with a Iadestricke, I know you of old.

Pedro. This is the ſumme of all: Leonato, Signior Clauſio, and Signior Benedicke; my deere friend Leonato, hath inuited you all, I tell him we ſhall ſtay here, at the leaſt a moneth, and he heartily praies ſome occasion may deſtaine vs longer: I dare ſware hee is no hypocrite, but praies from his heart.

Leon. If you ſware, my Lord, you ſhall not be forſworne, let mee bid you welcome, my Lord, being reſconciled to the Prince your brother: I owe you all dueticie.

John. I thanke you, I am not of many words, but I thanke you.

Leon. Pleaſe it your grace leade on?

Pedro. Your hand Leonato, we will goe together.

Exeunt. Manet Benedicke and Claudio.

Clauſo. Benedicke, didſt thou note the daughter of Signior Leonato?

Bene. I noted her not, but I lookt on her.

Clauſo. Is she not a modeſt yong Ladie?

Bene. Doe you question me as an honest man should doe, for my ſimple true iudgement? or would you have me ſpeake after my cuſtome, as being a profetſed tyrant to their ſexe?

Clauſo. No, I pray thee ſpeake in ſober iudgement.

Bene. Why yfaith me thinks ſhee's too low for a hie praife, too browne for a faire praife, and too little for a great praife, only this commendation I can aſſoard her, that were ſhee other then ſhe is, ſhe were vnhandſome, and being no other, but as ſhe is, I doe not like her.

Clauſo. Thou think'st I am in ſport, I pray thee tell me truely how thou lik'st her.

Bene. Would you buie her, that you enquier after her?

Clauſo. Can the world buie ſuch a jiewell?

Ben. Yea, and a caſe to put it into, but ſpeake you this with a ſad brow? Or doe you play the flowting iacke, to tell vs Cupid is a good Hare-finder, and Vulcan a rare Carpenter: Come, in what key ſhall aman take you to goe in the ſong?

Clauſo. In mine eie, ſhe is the ſweeteſt Ladie that euer I lookt on.

Bene. I can ſee yet without ſpectacles, and I ſee no ſuch matter: there's her colin, and ſhe were not poffeſt with a ſurie, exceeds her as much in beautie, as the firſt of Maie doth the laſt of December: but I hope you haue no intent to turne husband, haue you?

Clauſo. I would ſcarce truſt my ſelfe, though I had ſworne the contrarie, if Hero would be my wife.

Bene. Iſt come to this? in faith hath not the world one man but he will weare his cap with ſuſpition? I ſhall I neuer ſee a batcheller of three ſcore againe? goe to yfaith, and thou wilt needes truſt thy necke into a yoke, weare the print of it, and ſigh away ſundaies: Iooke, don Pedro is returned to ſeeke you.

Enter don Pedro, John the baſtard.

Pedro. What ſecret hath held you here, that you followed not to Leonatoes?

Bened. I would your Grace would conſtraine mee to tell.

Pedro. I charge thee on thy allegeance.

Ben. You heare, Count Claudio, I can be ſecret as a dumbe man, I would haue you thinke ſo (but on my allegiance, marke you this, on my allegiance) hee is in loue, With who? now that is your Graces part: marke how ſhort his anſwere is, with Hero, Leonatoes ſhort daughter.

Clauſo. If this were ſo, ſo were it vtttred.

Bened. Like the old tale, my Lord, it is not ſo, nor 'twas not ſo: but indeede, God forbid it should be ſo.

Clauſo. If my paſſion change not ſhortly, God forbid it should be otherwife.

Pedro. Amen, if you loue her, for the Ladie is verie well worthie.

Clauſo. You ſpeake this to fetch me in, my Lord.

Pedro. By my troth I ſpeake my thought.

Clauſo. And in faith, my Lord, I ſpoke mine.

Bened. And by my two faiths and troths, my Lord, I ſpeake mine.

Clauſo. That I loue her, I feele.

Pedro. That ſhe is worthie, I know.

Bened. That I neither feele how ſhee ſhould be loued, nor know how ſhee ſhould be worthie, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me, I will die in it at the flake.

Pedro. Thou waſt euer an obſtinate heretique in the deſpight of Beautie.

Clauſo. And neuer could maintaine his part, but in the force of his will.

Bene. That

Much adoe about Nothing.

103

Ben. That a woman conceiued me, I thank her: that
she brought mee vp. Likewise give her moſt humble
thanks: but that I will haue a rechate winded in my
forehead, or hang my buge in an inuſible baldricke, all
women ſhall pardon me: because I will not do the
wrong to miſtrauſt any, I will doe my ſelfe the right to
truſt none; and the fine is, (for the which I may goe the
finer) I will lie a Batchellor.

Pedro. I ſhall see thee ere I die, looke pale with loue.

Bene. With anger, with ſickneſſe, or with hunger,
my Lord, not with loue: proue that euer I loue more
blood with loue, then I will get againe with drinking,
picke out mine eyes with a Ballet-makers penne, and
hang me vp at the door of a brothel-house for the ſigne
of blinde Cupid.

Pedro. Well, if euer thou dooſt fall from this faith,
thou wilt proue a notable argument.

Bene. If I do, hang me in a bottle like a Cat, & ſhoot
at me, and he that hits me, lech him be clapt on the ſhoul-
der, and cal'd Adam.

Pedro. Well, as time ſhall trie: In time the ſauage
Bull dooth beare the ne yoke.

Bene. The ſauage bull may, but if euer the ſenſible
Benedicke beare it, plucke oſ the bulles hornes, and ſet
them in my forehead, and let me be vildely painted, and
in ſuch great Letters as they write, here is good horde
to hire: let them ſignifie vnder my ſigne, here you may
ſee Benedicke the married man.

Clau. If this ſhould euer happen, thou wouldſt bee
horne mad.

Pedro. Nay, if Cupid haue not spent all his Quieru in
Venice, thou wilt quake for this ſhorthly.

Bene. I looke for an earthquake too then.

Pedro. Well, you will temporize with the hours, in
the meane time, good Signior Benedicke, repaire to Leo-
natoes, commend me to him, and tell him I will not ſaile
him at ſupper, for indeede he hath made great prepara-
tion.

Bene. I haue almoſt matter enough in me for ſuch an
Embaffage, and so I commit you.

Clau. To the tuition of God. From my houſe, if I
had it.

Pedro. The fixt of Iuly. Your louing friend, Benedicke.

Bene. Nay mocke not, mocke not; the body of your
difcourſe is ſometime guarded with fragments, and the
guardes are but flightly baſted on neither, ere you flout
old ends any further, examine your confiſcience, and so I
leau you. Exit.

Clau. My Liege, your Highneſſe now may doe me good.

Pedro. My loue is thinet to teach, teach it but how,
And thou ſhalt see how apt it is to learne
Any hard Leſson that may do thee good.

Clau. Hath Leonato any ſonne my Lord?

Pedro. No childe but Hero, ſhe's his onely heire.

Doſt thou affect her (Laudio)?

Clau. O my Lord,

When you went onward on this ended action,
I look'd upon her with a ſouldiers eie,
That lik'd, but had a rougher taske in hand,
Than to drive liking to the name of loue:
But now I am return'd, and that warre-thoughts
Haue left their places vacant: in their roomes,
Come thronging soft and delicate desires,
All prompting mee how faire yong Here is,
Saying I lik'd her ere I went to warres.

Pedro. Thou wilt be like a louer prefently,
And tire the hearer with a booke of words:
If thou doſt loue faire Hero, cheriſh it,
And I will breake with her: waſt not to this end,
That thou beganſt to twiſt to fine a ſtory?

Clau. How freetyd doe you minſter to loue,
That know loues griefe by his complexion!
But left my liking might too ſodaine ſeeme,
I would haue falu'd it with a longer treatiſe.

Ped. What need a ſbridge much broder then the flood?

The faireſt graunt is the neceſſitie:

Looke what will ſerue, is fit: is once, thou loueſt,
And I will fit thee with the remedie,

I know we ſhall haue reuelling to night,
I will allume thy part in ſome diſguſe,

And tell faire Hero I am Claudio,
And in her boſome I vnclaspe my heart,
And take her hearing prifoner with the force
And ſtrong incounter of my amorous tale:

Then after, to her father will I breake,
And the conclusion is, ſhee shall be thine.

In præſtige let vs put it prefently.

Exeunt.

*Enter Leonato and an old man, brother to Leonato.*

Leo. How now brother, where is my coſen your ſon:
hath he provided this muſicke?

Old. He is very buſie about it, but brother, I can tell you neſew that you yet dreamt not of.

Lo. Are they good?

Old. As the events ſtamps them, but they haue a good
couer: they ſhew well outward, the Prince and Count
Claudio walking in a thick pleached alley in my orchard,
were thus ouer-heard by a man of mine: the Prince diſ-
couered to Claudio that hee loued my niece your daugh-
ter, and meant to acknowledge it this night in a dance,
and if hee found her accordant, hee meant to take the
prefent time by the top, and instantly breake with you
of it.

Leo. Hath the fellow any wyt that told you this?

Old. A good ſharpe fellow, I will ſend for him, and
queth him your ſelfe.

Leo. No, no; wee will hold it as a dreame, till it
appeare it ſelfe: but I will acquaint my daughter withall,
that ſhe may be the better prepared for an anſwer, if per-
aduenture this bee true: goe you and tell her of it: coo-
fins, you know what you haue to doe, O I crye you mer-
cie friend, goe you with mee and I will vſe your skill,
good coſin haue a care this buſie time.

Exeunt.

*Enter Sir John the Baſtard, and Conrade his companion.*

Con. What the good yeere my Lord, why are you
thus out of meaſure ſad?

Ioh. There is no meaſure in the occafion that breeds,
therefore the ſadneſſe is without limit.

Con. You ſhould heare reaſon.

Iohn. And when I haue heard it, what bleſſing brin-
geth it?

Con. If not a preſent remedy, yet a patient ſufferance.

Ioh. I wonder that thou (being as thou faſt thou art,
borne vnder Saturnne) goeſt about to apply a morall me-
dicine, to a mortifying miſchieſe: I cannot hide what I
am: I muſt bee ſad when I haue cauſe, and ſmile at no
mans iſeſts, eat when I haue stomacke, and wait for no
mans leiſure: ſleepe when I am drowſe, and tend on no
mans buſineſſe, laugh when I am merry, and claw no man
in his humor.

Con. Yea, but you muſt not make the ſul ſhow of this,
till you may doe it without controllment, you haue of
late

Much adoe about Nothing.

104

late stood out against your brother, and hee hath tane
you newly into his grace, where it is impossible you
should take root, but by the faire weather that you make
your selfe, it is needful that you frame the feafon for your
owne harueſt.

John. I had rather be a canker in a hedge, then a roſe
in his grace, and it better fits my cloud to be disſain'd of
all, then to fashion a carriage to rob loue from any: in this
(though I cannot be faid to be a flattering honest man)
It muſt not be denied but I am a plaine dealing villaine, I
am truſted with a muſſell, and enfranchiſe with a clog,
therefore I haue 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 meane time, let me be that I am, and
ſeeke not to alter me.

Con. Can you make no vſe of your discontent?

John. I will make all vſe of it, for I vſe it onely.
Who comes here? what newes Borachio?

Enter Borachio.

Ber. 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.

John. Will it ſerue for any Modell to buſd mifchefe
on ? What is hee for a foole that betrothes himſelfe to
vnquietneſſe?

Ber. Mary it is your brothers right hand.

John. Who, the moſt exquiſite Claudio?

Ber. Euen he.

John. A proper ſquier, and who, and whoe, which way
lookes he?

Ber. Mary on Hero, the daughter and Heire of Leo-
nato.

John. A very forward March-chicke, how came you
to this?

Ber. Being entertain'd for a perfumer, as I was moa-
king a muſſy roome, comes me the Prince and Claudio,
hand in hand in ſad conference: I whipt behind the Ar-
ras, and there heard it agreed vpon, that the Prince ſhould
wooe Hero for himſelfe, and having obtain'd her, giue
her to Count Claudio.

John. Come, come, let vs thither, this may proue food
to my displeasure, that young ſtart-vp hath all the glorie
of my ouerthrow : if I can croſſe him any way, I bleſſe
my ſelfe euery way, you are both ſure, and will affiſt
mee?

Comr. To the death my Lord.

John. Let vs to the great ſupper, their cheere is the
greater that I am ſubdued, would the Cooke were of my
minde: ſhall we goe proue what's to be done?

Ber. Wee'll wait vpon your Lordship.

Exeunt.

Actus Secundus.

Enter Leonato, his brother, his wife, Hero his daughter, and Beatrice his neece, and a kinsman.

Leonato. Was not Count John here at ſupper?

Brother. I saw him not.

Beatrice. How tartly that Gentleman looks, I neuer
can fee him, but I am heart-burn'd an howre after.

Hero. He is of a very melancholy dispoſition.

Beatrice. Hee were an excellent man that were made
iuſt in the mid-way Betweene him and Benedicke, the one
is too like an image and faies nothing, and the other too
like my Ladies eldeſt ſonne, euenermore tatling.

Leon. Then halfe aſſior Bendedick's tongue in Count
Johns mouth, and halfe Count Iohns melancholy in Sig-
nior Bendedick's face.

Beat. With a good legge, and a good foot vnckle, and
money enough in his purſe, such a man would winne any
woman in the world, if he could get her good will.

Leon. By my troth Neece, thou wilt neuer get thee
husband, if thou be so ſhrewd of thy tongue.

Brother. Infaith ſhee's too curſt.

Beat. Too curſt is more then curſt, I ſhall leſſen God's
ſending that way: for it is ſaid, God ſends a curſt Cow
short hornes, but to a Cow too curſt he ſends none.

Leon. So, by being too curſt, God will ſend you no
hornes.

Beat. Iuſt, if he ſend me no husband, for the which
bleſſing, I am at him vpon my knees euery morning and
euening : Lord, I could not endure a husband with a
beard on his face, I had rather lie in the woollen.

Leonato. You may light vpon a husband that bath no
beard.

Beatrice. What ſhould I doe with him ? dřeſſe him in
my apparell, and make him my waiting gentlewoman:
that hath a beard, is more then a youth : and he that hath
no beard, is leſſe then a man : and hee that is more thena
youth, is not for mee: and he that is leſſe then a man, I am
not for him: therefore I will euen take ſiſpence in ear-
neſt of the Bertford, and leade his Apes into hell.

Brother. Well then, goe you into hell.

Beat. No, but to the gate, and there will the Deuill
meet mee like an old Cuckold with hornes on his head,
and ſay, get you to heauen Beatrice, get you to heauen,
heere's no place for you maids, ſo deliuer I vp my Apes,
and away to S. Peter : for the heauens, hee ſhewes mee
where the Batchellers ſit, and there liue wee as merryas
the day is long.

Brother. Well neece, I truſt you will be rul'd by your
father.

Beatrice. Yes faith, it is my cofens dutie to make curſe,
and ſay, as it pleafe you : but yet for all that cofin, let
him be a handsome fellow, or else make an other curſie,
and ſay, father, as it pleafe me.

Leonato. Well neece, I hope to ſee you one day fitted
with a husband.

Beatrice. Not till God make men of ſome other met-
tall then earth, would it not grieue a woman to be ouer-
maſtred with a peecce of valiant duſt? to make account of
her life to a cloud of waiward marle ? no vnckle, ile none:
Adams ſonnes are my brethren, and truly I hold it a finne
to match in my kinred.

Leon. Daughter, remember what I told you, if the
Prince doe ſolicit you in that kinde, you know your an-
ſwere.

Beatrice. The fault will be in the muſſecke cofin, if you
be not woed in good time: if the Prince bee too impor-
tant, tell him there is meaſure in euery thing, & ſo dance
out the anſwere, for heare me Hero, wooing, wedding, &
repenting, is as a Scotch ijjgge, a meaſure, and a cinque-
pace: the firſt ſuite is hot and haſty like a Scotch ijjgge
(and full as fantasſicall) the wedding manerly modell,
(as a meaſure) full of ſtate & aunchentry, and then comes
repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-
pace ſafter and ſaſter, till he ſinkes into his graue.

Leonato.

Much ado about Nothing.

105

Leonata. Colin you apprehend pafling fbrewdly.

Beatrice. Ihaue a good eye vnickle, I can fee a Church
by daylight.

Leon. The reuellers are entring brother, make good
roome.

Enter Prince, Pedro, Claudio, and Benedicke, and Balthasar,
or dumbe John, Markers with a drum.

Pedro. Lady, will you walke about with your friend?

Hero. So you walke sofily, and looke sweetly, and fay
nothing, I am yours for the walke, and especially when I
walke away.

Pedro. With me in your company.

Hero. I may fay so when I pleafe.

Pedro. And when pleafe you to fay so?

Hero. When I like your faunour, for God defend the
Lute should be like the cafe.

Pedro. My visor is Philemons roofe, within the houfe
is Loue.

Hero. Why then your visor should be thatcht.

Pedro. Speake iow if you speake Loue,

Bene. Well, I would you did like me.

Mar. So would not I for your owne fake, for I haue
mame ill qualities.

Bene. Which is one ?

Mar. I fay my prayers alowd.

Ben. I loue you the better, the hearers may cry Amen.

Mar. God match me with a good dauncer.

Balt. Amen.

Mar. And God keepe him out of my fight when the
daunce is done: anfwer Clarke.

Balt. No more words. The Clarke is anſwered.

Vrſula. I know you well enough, you are Signior An-
thonio.

Anth. At a word, I am not.

Vrſula. I know you by the wagling of your head.

Anth. To tell you true, I counterſet him.

Vrſu. You could neuer doe him so ill well, vnleſſe
you were the very man: here's his dry hand vp & down,
you are he, you are he.

Anth. At a word I am not.

Vrſula. Come, come, docome, you thinke I doe not know
you by your excellent wit? can vertue hide it ſelfe ? goe
to, mumme, you are he, graces will appeare, and there's
an end.

Beat. Will you not tell me who told you so?

Bene. No, you ſhall pardon me.

Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are ?

Bened. Not now.

Beat. That I was diſdainfull, and that I had my good
wit out of the hundred merry tales : well, this was Signi-
or Benedicke that faid so.

Bene. What's he ?

Beat. I am ſure you know him well enough.

Bene. Not I, beleeue me.

Beat. Did he neuer make you laugh ?

Bene. I pray you what is he ?

Beat. Why he is the Princes ieafter, a very dull foole,
onely his gitt is, in deuifing impoſsible ſlanders, none
but Libertines delight in him, and the commendation is
not in his witte, but in his villanie, for hee both pleafeth
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
boorded me.

Bene. When I know the Gentleman, Ile tell him what
you fay.

Beat. Do, do, hee but breake a comparifon or two
on me, which peraduenture (not markt, or not laugh'd
at) ſtrikes him into melancholly, and then there's a Par-
tridge wing faued, for the foole will eate no ſupper that
night. We muſt follow the Leaders.

Ben. In euery good thing.

Bea. Nay, if they leade to any ill, I will leade them
at the next turning.

Musſicke for the dance.

John. Sure my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath
withdrawne her father to breake with him about it: the
Ladies follow her, and but one visor remaines.

Borachio. And that is Claudio, I know him by his bea-
ring.

Ioha. Are not you Signior Benedicke?

Clau. You know me well, I am hee.

John. Signior, you are verie neere my Brother in his
loue, he is enamor'd on Hero, I pray you diſſwade him
from her, ſhe is no equall for his birth: you may do the
part of an honest man in it.

Claudio. How know you he loues her?

John. I heard him ſware his affection,

Eor. So did I too, and he ſwere he would marrie her
to night.

John. Come, let vs to the banquet. Ex. manet. Clau.

Clau. Thus anſwere I in name of Benedicke,

But heare these ill newes with the cares of Claudio:
'Tis certaine ſo, the Prince woes for himſelfe :

Friendſhip is conſtant in all other things,

Saeue in the Office and affaires of loue:

Therefore all hearts in loue vſe their owne tongues.

Let euerie eye negotiate for it ſelfe,

And truſt no Agent : for beautie is a witch,

A gainſt whose charmes, faith melteth into blood :

This is an accident of hourly proofe,

Which I miſtruſted not. Farewell therefore Hero.

Enter Benedicke.

Ben. Count Claudio.

Clau. Yea, the fame.

Ben. Come, will you go with me?

Clau. Whither?

Ben. Euen to the next Willow, about your own bu-
finesſe, Count. What fashion will you wear the Gar-
land off? About your necke, like an Viuers chaine? Or
vnder your arme, like a Lieutenants ſcarfe ? You muſt
weare it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero.

Clau. I with him ioy of her.

Ben. Why that's ſpoken like an honest Drouier, so
they ſel Bullockes : but did you thinke the Prince wold
haue ſerued you thus?

Clau. I pray you leaue me.

Ben. Ho now you ſtrike like the blindman, 'twas the
boy that ſtole your meate, and you'l beat the poſt.

Clau. If it will not be, Ile leaue you. Exit.

Ben. Alas poore hurt fowle, now will he creepe into
ſedges: But that my Ladie Beatrice ſhould know me, &
not know me : the Princes foole! Hah? It may be: I goe
vnder that title, because I am merrie: yea but so I am
apt to do my ſelfe wrong: I am not so reputed, it is the
bafe (though bitter) diſpoſition of Beatrice, that purt's
the world into her perſon, and so giues me out: well, Ile
be reuenged as I may.

Enter the Prince.

Pedro. Now Signior, where's the Count, did you
fee him?

Ben

Much adoe about Nothing.

106

Bene. Troth my Lord, I haue played the part of Lady
Fame, I found him heere as melancholy as a Lodge in a
Warren, I told him, and I thinke, told him true, that your
grace had got the will 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 binde him a rod, as be-
ing worthy to be whipt.

Pedro. To be whipt, what's his fault?

Bene. The flat transgression of a Schoole-boy, who
being ouer-joyed with finding a birds nest, flewes it his
companion, and he fleales it.

Pedro. Will thou make a truſt, a transgression ? the
transgression is in the ſtealer.

Ben. Yet it had not beene amife the rod had beene
made, and the garland too, for the garland he might haue
worne himſelfe, and the rod hee might haue beſtowed on
you, who (as I take it) haue ſolne his birds neſt.

Pedro. I will but teach them to ſing, and reſtore them
to the owner.

Bene. If their ſinging anſwer your ſaying, by my faith
you ſay honeſtly.

Pedro. The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrell to you, the
Gentleman that daunſt with her, told her ſhee is much
wrong'd by you.

Bene. O the miſuſe me paſt the indurance of a block:
an oake but with one greene leafe on it, would haue an-
ſwered her: my very viſor began to allume life, and ſold
with her : ſhee told me, not thinking I had beene my
ſelfe, that I was the Princes leſter, and that I was duſler
then a great thaw, hudling iſt vpon iſt, with ſuch im-
possible conueiance vpon me, that I ſlood like a man at a
marke, with a whole army ſhooting at me: ſhee ſpeakes
poynyards, and euery word ſlabbes : if her breath were
as terrible as terminations, there were no liuing neere
her, ſhe would inſect to the north ſtarre : I would not
marry her, though ſhe were indowed with all that Adam
had left him before he transgreſt, ſhe would haue made
Hercules haue turnd ſpit, yes, and haue cleft his club to
make the fire too: come, euſe not of her, you ſhall ſinde
her the infernal Ate in good apparell. I would to God
ſome ſcholler would coniure her, for certainly while ſhe
is heere, a man may liue as quiet in hell, as in a ſanctuary,
and people ſinne vpon purpofe, becauſe they would goe
thither, to indeed all diſquiet, horror, and perturbation
followes her.

Enter Claudio and Beatrice, Leonato, Hero.

Pedro. Looke heere the comes.

Bene. Will your Grace command mee any ſeruice to
the worlds end ? I will goe on the flighteſt arrand now
to the Antypodes that you can deuifio to ſend me on: I
will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the furſurthe inch
of Asia: bring you the length of Prefter Iohns ſtoot: fetch
you a hayre off the great Chams beard: doe you any em-
baffage to the Pigmies, rather then hould three words
conference, with this Harpy: you haue no employment
for me?

Pedro. None, but to deſire your good company.

Bene. O God fir, heeres a diſh I loue not, I cannot in-
dure this Lady tongue.

Exit.

Pedro. Come Lady, come, you haue loft the heart of
Signior Benedicke.

Beaſtr. Indeed my Lord, hee lent it me a while, and I
gaue him vſe for it, a double heart for a single one, marry
once before he wonne it of mee, with falſe dice, therefore
your Grace may well ſay I haue loft it.

Pedro. You haue put him downe Lady, you haue put
him downe.

Beaſt. So I would not he ſhould do me, my Lord, left
I ſhould prooue the mother of fooles : I haue brought
Count Claudio, whom you ſent me to ſeeke.

Pedro. Why how now Count, wherfore are you ſad?

Claud. Not ſad my Lord.

Pedro. How then ? ſicke ?

Claud. Neither, my Lord.

Beaſt. The Count is neither ſad, nor ſicke, nor merry,
nor well: but ciuill Count, ciuill as an Orange, and some-
thing of a icalous complexion.

Pedro. Ifaith Lady, I thinke your blazon to be true,
though Ile be ſworne, if hee be lo, his conceit is falſe:
heere Claudio, I haue wooed in thy name, and faire Hero
is won, I haue broke with her father, and his good will
obtained, name the day of marriage, and God giue
thee ioy.

Leaona. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her
my fortunes : his grace hath made the match, & all grace
fay, Amen to it.

Beaſt. Speake Count, tis your Qu.

Claud. Silence is the perſeſt Herault of joy, I were
but little happy if I could ſay, how much ? Lady, as you
are mine, I am yours, I giue away my ſelfe for you, and
doat vpon the exchange.

Beaſt. Speake coſin, or (if you cannot) ſtop his mouth
with a kiffe, and let not him ſpeake neither.

Pedro. Inſaith Lady you haue a merry heart.

Beaſt. Yea my Lord I thanke it, poore foole it keepes
on the windy ſide of Care, my coſin tells him in his care
that he is in my heart.

Claud. And fo ſhe doth coſin.

Beaſt. Good Lord for alliance : thus goes euery one
to the world but I, and I am ſun-burn'd, I may ſit in a cor-
ner and cry, heigh ho for a husband.

Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.

Beaſt. I would rather haue one of your fathers getting:
hath your Grace ne're a brother like you ? your father
got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them.

Prince. Will you haue me ? Lady.

Beaſt. No, my Lord, vuleſſe I might haue another for
working-daies, your Grace is too coſtly to weare euere
day : but I beſeech your Grace pardon mee, I was borne
to ſpeake all mirth, and no matter.

Prince. Your ſilence moſt offends me, and to be mer-
ry, beſt becomes you, for out of queſtion, you were born
in a merry howre.

Beaſt. No ſure my Lord, my Mother cried, but then
there was a ſtarre daunſt, and vnder that was I borne: co-
ſins God giue you ioy.

Leonato. Neece, will you looke to those rhings I told
you of?

Beaſt. I cry you mercy Vncle, by your Graces pardon.

Exit Beatrice.

Prince. By my troth a pleaſant ſpirited Lady.

Leon. There's little of the melancholy element in her
my Lord, ſhe is neuer ſad, but when ſhe ſleepes, and not
euer ſad then: for I haue heard my daughter ſay, ſhe hath
often dreamt of vnhappinesſe, and wakt her ſelfe with
laughing.

Pedro. ſhe cannot indure to heare tell of a husband.

Leonato. O, by no means, ſhe mocks all her wooers
out of ſuite.

Prince. She were an excellent wife for Benedick,

Leonato. O Lord, my Lord, if they were but a weeke
married,

Much adoe about Nothing.

107

married, they would talke their felues made.

Prince. Counte Claudio, when meane you to goe to Church?

Clau. To morrow my Lord, Time goes on crutches,
till Loue have all his tites.

Leonata. Not till Monday, my dearesse, which is
hence a iust feuen night, and a time too briefe too, to haue
all things anwer minde.

Prince. Come, you shake the head at so long a brea-
thing, but I warrant thee Claudio, the time shall not goe
dully by vs, I will in the interim, vndertake one of Her-
cules labors, which is, to bring Signior Benedicke and the
Lady Beatrice into a mountaine of affection, th' one with
th' other, I would faire have it a match, and I doubt not
but to fashion it, if you three will but minifter such affi-
stance as I shall give you direction.

Leonata. My Lord, I am for you, though it cost me
ten nights watchings.

Claud. And I my Lord.

Prin. And you to gentle Hero?

Hero. I will doe any modest office,my Lord, to helpe
my cosin to a good husband.

Prin. And Benedicke is not the vnhopefull left husband
that I know: thus farre can I praife him, hee is of a noble
ftraine, of approued valour, and confirm'd honeſtly, I will
teach you how to humour your cosin, that ſhee shall fall
in loue with Benedicke, and I, with your two helps, will
ſo practise on Benedicke, that in despight of his quicke
wit, and his queafie ſtomacke, hee ſhall fall in loue with
Beatrice: if wee can doe this, Cupid is no longer an Art-
cher, his glory ſhall be ours, for wee are the only loue-
gods, god in with me, and I will tell you my drift. Exit.

Enter Iohn and Barachio.

Ioh. It is so, the Count Claudio ſhal marry the daugh-
ter of Leonato.

Bora. Yea my Lord, but I can crouſe it.

Iohn. Any barre, any crouſe, any impediment, will be
medicinable to me, I am ſicke in difpleasure to him, and
whatſoever comes athwart his affection, ranges euenly
with mine, how canſt thou crouſe this marriage ?

Bor. Not honeſtly my Lord, but so courtely, that no
difhonesty ſhall appear in me.

Iohn. Shew me brieſely how.

Bor. I thinke I told your Lordship a yeere ſince, how
much I am in the ſaumour of Margaret, the waiting gentle-
woman to Hero.

Iohn. I remember.

Bor. I can at any vnſeafonable inſant of the night,
appoint her to look out at her Ladies chamber window.

Iohn. What life is in that, to be the death of this mar-
riage?

Bor. The poyſon of that lies in you to temper, goe
you to the Prince your brother, ſpare not to tell him, that
hee hath wronged his Honor in marrying the renowned
Claudio, whose eſtimation do you mightily hold vp, to a
contaminated ſtale, ſuch a one as Hero.

Iohn. What proofe ſhall I make of that?

Bor. Proofe enough, to miſe the Prince, to veze
Claudio, to vn笋e Hero, and kill Leonato, looke you for a-
ny other illſue ?

Iohn. Onely to deſpight them, I will endeauour any
thing.

Bor. Goe then, finde me a meete howre, to draw on
Pedro and the Count Claudio alone, tell them that you
know that Hero loues me, intend a kinde of zeale both
to the Prince and Claudio (as in a loue of your brothers

honor who hath made this match ) and his friends repu-
tation, who is thus like to be cosen'd with the ſemblance
of a maid, that you haue diſcourte'd thus: they will ſcare-
fully beleeue this without triall: offer them inſtances which
ſhall beare no leſſe likelihood, than to fee mee at her
chamber window, heare me call Margaret, Hero; heare
Margaret termine me Claudio, and bring them to fee this
the very night before the intended wedding, for in the
meane time, I will ſo fashion the matter, that Hero ſhall
be abſent, and there ſhall appeare ſuch ſeeming truths of
Heroes diſloyaltie, that ialleouſe ſhall be cal'd affurran-
, and all the preparation ouerthrowne.

Iohn. Grow this to what aduerſe illſue it can, I will
put it in practice: be cunning in the working this, and
thy fee is a thousand ducates.

Bor. Be thou conſtant in the accufation, and my cun-
ning ſhall not ſhame me.

Iohn. I will preſentlie goe learne their day of marri-
age. Exit.

Enter Benedicks alone.

Bene. Boy.

Boy. Signior.

Bene. In my chamber window lies a booke, bring it
bither to me in the orchard.

Boy. I am heere already fir.

Exit.

Bene. I know that, but I would haue thee hence, and
heere againe. I doe much wonder, that one man ſeeing
how much another man is a foole, when he dedicates his
behauiours to loue, will after hee hath taught at ſuch
ſhallow follies in others, become the argument of his
owne ſcorne, by falling in loue, & ſuch a man is Claudio,
I haue known when there was no muſicke with him but
the drum and the ſife, and now had hee rather heare the
taber and the pipe: I haue knowne when he would haue
walkt ten mile afoot, to fee a good armour, and now will
he lie ten nights awake caruing the ſashion of a new dub-
let: he was wont to ſpeake plaine, & to the purpose (like
an honest man & a ſouldeir) and now is he turn'd ortho-
graphy, his words are a very ſantasticall banquet, iuſt so
many ſtrange diſhes: may I be ſo conuerued, & fee with
these eyes ? I cannot tell, I thinke not: I will not bee
ſworne, but loue may transforme me to an oyſter, but I
take my oath on it, till he haue made an oyſter of me, he
flie shall neuer make me ſuch a foole: one woman is faire, yet
I am well: another is wife, yet I am well: another vertu-
ous, yet I am well: but till all graces be in one woman,
one woman ſhall not come in my grace: rich ſhee ſhall
be, that's certaine: wife, or Ile none: vertuous, or Ile ne-
uer cheapen her: faire, or Ile neuer looke on her: milde,
or come not neere me: Noble, or not for an Angell: of
good diſcourſe: an excellent Muſician, and her haire ſhal
be of what colour it pleafe God, hah ! the Prince and
Monſieur Loue, I will hide me in the Arbor.

Enter Prince, Leonato, Claudio, and Tacke Wilson.

Prin. Come, ſhall we heare this muſicke?

Claud. Yea my good Lord: how ſill the euening is,
As hufſt on purpose to grace harmonie.

Prin. See you where Benedicke hath h'd himselfe?

Clau. O very well my Lord: the muſicke ended,
We'll fit the kid-ſox with a penny worth.

Prince. Come Balthasar, we'll heare that ſong again,
Balth. O good my Lord, taxe not so bad a voyce,
To ſlender muſicke any more then once.

Prin. It is the witneſſe ſill of excellency,

To

108

Much ado about Nothing.

To flander Muficke any more then once.

*Prince.* It is the witneſſe full of excellencie,
To put a ſtrange face on his owne perſection,
I pray thee ſing, and let me woe no more.

*Balth.* Because you talke of wooing, I will ſing,
Since many a wooer doth commence his ſuit,
To her he thinkes not worthy, yet he wooes,
Yet will he wære he loues.

*Prince.* Nay pray thee come;
Or if thou wilt hold longer argument,
Doe it in notes.

*Balth.* 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 for ſooth, and nothing.

*Bene.* Now diuine aire, now is his foule rauiſte, is it not ſtrange that sheepes guts should hale foules out of mens bodies ? well, a horne for my money when all's done.

The Song.

*Sigh no more Ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceiters cuer,
One foote in Sea, and one on shore,
To one thing constant neuer,
Then sigh not so, but let them goe,
And be you blithe and bonie,
Converting all your founds of woe,
Into bey ny noy.*

*Sing no more ditties, sing no moe,
Of dumps so dull and heavy,
The fraud of men were cuer so,
Since summer first was lealy,
Then sigh not so, &c.*

*Prince.* By my troth a good long.

*Balth.* And an ill ſinger, my Lord.

*Prince.* Ha, no, no faith, thou ſing it well enough for a ſhirt.

*Ben.* And he had been a dog that should haue howld thus, they would haue hang'd him, and, I pray God his bad voyce bode no miſchefe. I had as lieſe haue heard the night-rauen, come what plague could haue come after it.

*Prince.* Yea marry, doth you heare *Balthasar* ? I pray thee get vs some excellent muſick : for to morrow night we would haue it at the Lady Heroes chamber window.

*Balth.* The beſt I can, my Lord.

*Exit Balthasar.*

*Prince.* Do so, farewell. Come hither *Leonato*, what was it you told me of to day, that your Niece *Beatrice* was in loue with Signior *Benedicke*?

*Cla.* O, ſtalke on, ſtalke on, the foule fits. I did neuer thinke that Lady would haue loued any man.

*Leon.* No, nor I neither, but moſt wonderful, that ſhe should ſo dot on Signior *Benedicke*, whom ſhee hath in all outward behaviours ſeem'd cuer to abhorre.

*Bene.* Is't possible ? fits the wind in that corner ?

*Leo.* By my troth my Lord, I cannot tell what to thinke of it, but that ſhe loues him with an inflaged affection, it is palt the infinite of thought.

*Prince.* May be the doth but counterfeit.

*Claud.* Faith like enough.

*Leon.* O God! counterfeit? there was neuer counterfeit of paffion, came so neere the life of paffion as the difference it.

*Prince.* Why what effects of paffion ſhewes ſhe ?

*Claud.* Baite the hooke well, this ſin will bite.

*Leon.* What effects my Lord ? ſhee will fit you, you heard my daughter tell you how.

*Claud.* She did indeed.

*Prin.* How, how I pray you ? you amaze me, I would haue thought her ſpirit had beene inuincible against all affaults of affection.

*Leo.* I would haue ſworne it had, my Lord, especially against *Benedicke*.

*Bene.* I should thinke this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow ſpeakes it : knauery cannot ſure hide himſelfe in ſuch reuerence.

*Claud.* He hath tane th'infection, hold it vp.

*Prince.* Hath ſhee made her affection known to *Benedicke*?

*Leonato.* No, and ſweares he neuer will, that's her torment.

*Claud.* 'Tis true indeed, so your daughter faies : shall I, faies ſhe, that haue so oft encountered him with ſcome, write to him that I loue him?

*Leo.* This faies ſhee now when ſhee is beginning to write to him, for ſhe'll be vp twenty times a night, and there will ſhe fit in her ſmocke, till ſhe haue writ a ſheet of paper : my daughter tells vs all.

*Claud.* Now you talke of a ſheet of paper, I remember a pretty iſt your daughter told vs of.

*Leo.* O when he had writ it, & was reading it ouer, he found *Benedicke* and *Beatrice* betweene the ſheete.

*Claud.* That.

*Leon.* O ſhe tore the letter into a thousand and halfpence, rail'd at her ſelf, that ſhe should be so immodet to write, to one that ſhee knew would flout her : I meaſure him, faies ſhe, by my owne ſpirit, for I should flout him if hee writ to mee, yea though I loue him, I should.

*Claud.* Then downe upon her knees ſhe falls, weepes, fobs, beates her heart, teares her hayre, praies, curses, O sweet *Benedicke*, God give me patience.

*Leon.* She doth indeed, my daughter faies so, and the extaſe hath to much ouerborne her, that my daughter is ſomtime aſeard. ſhe will doe a desperate out-rage to her ſelſe, it is very true.

*Prince.* It were good that *Benedicke* knew of it by ſome other, if he will not diſcouer it.

*Claud.* To what end ? he would but make a ſport of it, and torment the poore Lady worſe.

*Prin.* And he ſhould, it were an almes to hang him, ſhee's an excellent ſweet Lady, and (out of all ſuſpition,) he is vertuous.

*Claudio.* And he is exceeding wife.

*Prince.* In euery thing, but in louing *Benedicke*.

*Leon.* O my Lord, wifedome and bloud, combating in ſo tender a body, we haue ten proofes to one, that bloud hath the victory, I am forry for her, as I haue iuſt cauſe, being her Vncle, and her Guardian.

*Prince.* I would ſhee had beſtowed this dotage on mee, I would haue daſt all other reſpects, and made her halſe my ſelſe: I pray you tell *Benedicke* of it, and heare what he will ſay.

*Leon.* Were it good thinke you?

*Claud.* Hero thinkes ſurely ſhe wil die, for ſhe faies ſhe will die, if hee loue her not, and ſhee will die ere ſhee make her loue knowne, and ſhe will die if hee wooe her, rather than ſhee will bate one breath of her accuſtomed croſſenſe.

*Prin.* She doth well, if she should make tender of her loue,

Much adoe about Nothing.

109

loue, 'tis very possible hee'l forne it, for the man (as you know all) hath a contemptible spirit.

Clau. He is a very proper man.

Prin. He hath indeed a good outward happiness.

Clau. Fore God, and in my minde very wife.

Prin. He doth indeed fewe some sparkes that are like wit.

Leon. And I take him to be valiant.

Prin. As Heitor, I assure you, and in the managing of quarrels you may see mee is wife, for either mee auoydes them with great discretion, or vndertakes them with a Christian-like feare.

Leue. If hee doe feare God, a muft neceffarilie keepe peace, if hee breake the peace, hee ought to enter into a quarrell with feare and trembling.

Prin. And so will he doe, for the man doth fear God, how fewuer it seemes not in him, by some large icafts hee will make: well, I am forry for your niece, shall we goe (see Benedicke, and tell him of her loue.

Clau. Neuer tell him, my Lord, let her weare it out with good counſell.

Leon. Nay that's impoffible, she may weare her heart out firſt.

Prin. Well, we will heare further of it by your daugh-
ter, let it coole the while, I loue Benedicke well, and I
could wifh he would modelſtly examine himselfſe, to fee
how much he is vnworthy to haue ſo good a Lady.

Leon. My Lord, will you walke dinner is ready.

Clau. If he do not doat on her vpon this, I wil neuer truſt my expeſation.

Prin. Let there be the fame Net spread for her, and that muſt your daughter and her gentlewoman carry: the ſport will be, when they hold one an opinion of another dotaſe, and no ſuch matter, that's the Scene that I would fee, which will be merely a dume ſhew: let vs ſend her to call him into dinner. Exeunt.

Bene. This can be no tricke, the conference was ſadly borne, they haue the truth of this from Hero, they ſee me to pittie the Lady: it ſees me affections haue the full bent: loue me? why it muſt be requited: I heare how I am cenſur'd, they ſay I will beare my ſelfe proudly, if I perceiue the loue come from her: they ſay too, that ſhe will rather die than give any ſigne of affection: I did neuer thinke to marry, I muſt not ſee me proud, happy are they that haue their detractions, and can put them to mending: they ſay the Lady is faire, 'tis a truth, I can beare them witneſſe: and vertuous, tis so, I cannot re-prooue it, and wife, but for louing me, by my troth it is no addition to her witte, nor no great argument of her folly: for I wil be horribly loue with her. I may chance haue ſome odde quirks and remnants of witte broken on mee, because I haue rail'd ſo long againſt marriage: but doth not the appetite alter? a man loues the meat in his youth, that he cannot indure in his age. Shall quips and ſentences, and theſe paper bullets of the braine awe a man from the careere of his humour? No, the world muſt be peopled. When I faid I would die a batcheler, I did not think I ſhould liue till I were married, here comes Beatrice: by this day, shee's a faire Lady, I doe ſpie ſome markes of loue in her.

Enter Beatrice.

Beat. Againſt my wil I am ſent to bid you come in to dinner.

Bene. Faire Beatrice, I thanke you for your paines.

Beat. I tooke no more paines for thofe thankes, then you take paines to thanke me, if it had been painefull, I would not haue come.

Bene. You take pleafure then in the meſſage.

Beat. Yea iuſt so much as you may take vpon a kniues point, and choake a daw withall: you haue no ſtomacke ſignor, fare you well.

Bene. Ha, againſt my will I am ſent to bid you come into dinner: there's a double meaning in that: I tooke no more paines for thofe thankes then you tooke paines to thanke me, that's as much as to ſay, any paines that I take for you is as easie as thankes: if I do not take pitty of her I am a villaine, if I doe not loue her I am a Iew, I will goe get her picture.

## Actus Tertius.

Enter Hero and two Gentlemen, Margaret, and Vrſula.

Hero. Good Margaret runne thee to the parlour,
There shall thou finde my Colin Beatrice,
Propofing with the Prince and Claudio,
Whisper her care, and tell her I and Vrſula,
Walke in the Orchard, and our whole diſcourſe
Is all of her, ſay that thou ouer-heardſt vs,
And bid her ſteale into the pleached bower,
Where hony-tuckles ripened by the ſunne,
Forbid the ſunne to enter : like fauourites,
Made proud by Princes, that aduance their pride,
Againſt that power that bred it, there will ſhe hide her,
To ſiuen our purpofe, this is thy office,
Beare thee well in it, and leue vs alone.

Marg. Ile make her come I warrant you prefently.

Hero. Now Vrſula, when Beatrice doth come,
As we do trace this alley vp and downe,
Our talke muſt only be of Benedicke,
When I doe name him, let it be thy part,
To praife him more then euer man did merit,
My talke to thee muſt be how Benedicke
Is ſicke in loue with Beatrice: of this matter,
Is little Cupids crafty arrow made,
That only wounds by heare-say: now begin,
Enter Beatrice.
For looke where Beatrice like a Lapwing runs
Cloſe by the ground, to heare our conference.

Vrſ. The pleafant ſtling angling is to fee the flſh
Cut with her golden ores the ſluer ſtreame,
And greedily deuoure the treacherous baite:
So angle we for Beatrice, who euen now,
Is couched in the wood-bine couerture,
Feare you not my part of the Dialogue.
Her. Then go we neare her that her care ſooſe nothing,
Of the falſe ſweete baite that we lay for it:
No truely Vrſula, ſhe is too diſdainfull,
I know her ſpirits are as coy and wilde,
As Haggards of the rocke.

Vrſula. But are you ſure,
That Benedicke loues Beatrice so intirely?
Her. So faies the Prince, and my new trothed Lord.
Vrſ. And did they bid you tell her of it, Madam?
Her. They did intreate me to acquaint her of it,
But I perſwaded them, if they lou'd Benedicke,

K

To

Much ado about Nothing.

IIo

To with him wrangle with affection,
And neuer to let *Beatrice* know of it.

*Vrfula.* Why did you so, doth not the Gentleman
Deferue as full as fortunate a bed,
As euer *Beatrice* shall couch vpon?

*Hero.* O God of louel know he doth deferue,
As much as may be yeelded to a man:
But Nature neuer fram'd a woman's heart,
Of prowder fluffe then that of *Beatrice*:

Difdaine and Scorne ride (sparkling in her eyes)
Mif-prizing what they looke on and her wit
Values it selfe so highly, that to her

All matter else feemes weake: shee cannot loue,
Nor take no shape nor project of affection,
Shee is so selfe indeared.

*Vrfula.* Sure I thinke so,
And therefore certainly it were not good
She knew his loue, left the make sport at it.

*Hero.* Why you fpeake truth, I neuer yet saw man,
How wife, how noble, yong, how rarely featur'd.
But she would ſpell him backward: if faire fac'd,
She would ſware the gentleman should be her ſister:
If blacke, why Nature drawing of an anticke,
Made a foule blot: if tall, a lanne ill headed:
If low, an agor very vildie cut:

If ſpeaking, why a vane blowne with all windes:
If ſilent, why a blocke moued with none.
So turns the euery man the wrong ſide out,
And neuer guies to Truth and Vertue, that
Which ſimpleneſſe and merit purchaſeth.

*Vrſu.* Sure, ſure, ſuch carping is not commendable.

*Here.* No, not to be so odde, and from all ſactions,
As *Beatrice* is, cannot be commendable,
But who dare tell her ſo ? if I should ſpkeake,

She would mocke me into ayre, O she would laugh me
Out of my ſelfe, preſſe me to death with wit,
Therefore let Benedicke like couered fire,
Conſume away in ſighes, waffe inwardly:
It were a better death, to die with mockes,
Which is as bad as die with tickling.

*Urſu.* Yet tell her of it, heare what ſhee will ſay.

*Hero.* No, rather I will goe to Benedicke,
And counſaile him to fight againſt his paſſion,
And truly Ile deuife ſome honet flanders,
To ſtaine my coſin with, one doth not know,
How much an ill word may impoſon liking.

*Urſu.* O doe not do your coſin ſuch a wrong,
She cannot be so much without true iudgement,
Hauing ſo Swift and excellent a wit
As ſhe is preſſe to haue, as to ſerefue
So rare a Gentleman as Signior Benedicke.

*Hero.* He is the onely man of Italy,

Alwaies excepted, my deare *Claudio*.

*Vrſu.* I pray you be not angry with me, Madame,
Speaking my fancy: Signior Benedicke,
For shape, for bearing argument and valour,
Goes forſormt in report through Italy.

*Hero.* Indeed he hath an excellent good name.

*Urſu.* His excellence did earne it ere he had it:
When are you married Madame?

*Hero.* Why euerie day to morrow, come goe in,
Ile ſhew thee ſome attires, and haue thy counſell,
Which is the beſt to furniſh me to morrow.

*Vrſu.* Shee's tane I warrant you,
We haue caught her Madame?

*Hero.* If it proue so, then louing goes by haps,

*Some Cupid kills with arrowes, some with traps.* Exit.

*Beat.* What fire is in mine eares? can this be true?

*Stand I condemn'd for pride and ſcorne so much?*

*Contempt, farewell, and maiden pride, adew!*

*No glory lies behinde the backe ofuch.*

*And Benedicke, loue on, I will requite thee,*

*Taming my wilde heart to thy louing hand:*

*If thou doſt loue, my kindeneſſe shall incite thee.*

*To binde our loues vp in a holy band.*

*For others ſay thou doſt deferue, and I
Beleeue it better then reportedly.*

Exit.

*Euter Prince, Claudio, Benedicke, and Leonardo.*

*Prince.* I doe but ſay till your marriage be consummate, and then go I toward Arragon.

*Claud.* Ile bring you thither my Lord, if you'll vouchſaile me.

*Prin.* Nay, that would be as great a ſoyle in the new
Gloſſe of your marriage, as to ſhow a childe his new coat
and forbid him to weare it. I will only bee bold with
Benedicke for his companie, from the crowne of his
head, to the ſole of his foot, he is all mirth, he hath twice
or thrice cut *Cupids* bow-string, and the little hang-man
dare not ſhoot at him, he hath a heart as found as a bell,
and his tongue is the clapper, for what his heart thinkes,
his tongue ſpeakes.

*Bene.* Gallants, I am not as I haue bin.

*Leo.* So ſay I, methinks you are ſadder.

*Claud.* I hope he be in loue.

*Prin.* Hang him truant, there's no true drop of blood
in him to be truly toucht with loue, if he be sad, he wants
money.

*Bene.* I haue the tooth-ach.

*Prin.* Draw it.

*Bene.* Hang it.

*Claud.* You muſt hang it first, and draw it afterwards.

*Prin.* What ? ſigh for the tooth-ach.

*Leon.* Where is but a humour or a worme.

*Bene.* Well, euery one cannot maſter a griekſe, but hee
that has it.

*Claud.* Yet ſay I, he is in loue.

*Prin.* There is no appearance of ſancie in him, vnleſſe
it be a fancy that he hath to ſtrange diſguſes, as to bee a
Dutchman to day, a Frenchman to morrow: vnleſſe hee
haue a fancy to this foolery, as it appears hee hath, hee
is no ſoole for fancy, as you would haue it to appeare
he is.

*Claud.* If he be not in loue with ſome man, there
is no beleeuing old ſignes, a brusheſs his hat a mornings,
What should that bode?

*Prin.* Hath any man ſeene him at the Barbers ?

*Claud.* No, but the Barbers man hath beene ſeen with
him, and the olde ornament of his cheeke hath alreadye
ſluft tennis balls.

*Leon.* Indeed he looks Yonger than hee did, by the
loſſe of a beard.

*Prin.* Nay a rubs himſelfe with Ciuit, can you ſmell
him out by that?

*Claud.* That's as much as to ſay, the ſweet youth's in
loue.

*Prin.* The greatest note of it is his melancholy.

*Claud.* And when was he vront to vvaſh his face?

*Prin.* Yea, or to paint himſelfe ? for the which I heare
what they ſay of him.

*Claud.* Nay, but his ieſting ſpirit, vwhich is now crept
into a lute-string, and now gouern'd by stops.

Prince.

Much adoe about Nothing.

III

Prin. Indeed that tells a heavy tale for him: conclude,
he is in loue.

Clan. Nay, but I know who loues him.

Prince. That would I know too, I warrant one that
knowes him not.

Cla. Yes, and his ill conditions, and in despight of all,
dies for him.

Prin. Shee shall be buried with her face vpwards.

Bene. Yet is this no charme for the tooth-ake, old fig-
nior, walke aside with mee, I have fluided eight or nine
wife words to speake to you, which these hobby-horves
must not heare.

Prin. For my life to breake with him about *Beatrice*.

Cla. 'Tis even so, *Hero* and *Margaret* haue by this
played their parts with *Beatrice*, and then the two Beares
will not bite one another when they meete.

Enter John the Bassard.

Bass. My Lord and brother, God faue you.

Prin. Good den brother.

Bass. If your leifure feru'd, I would speake with you.

Prince. In private?

Bass. If it please you, yet Count *Claudio* may heare,
for what I would (speake of) concernes him.

Prin. What's the matter?

Bass. Meanes your Lordship to be married to mor-
row?

Prin. You know he does.

Bass. I know not that when he knowes what I know.

Cla. If there be any impediment, I pray you diffe-
uer it.

Bass. You may thinke I loue you not, let that appeare
hereafter, as myne better at me by that I now will man-
nifeft, for my brother (I thinke, he holds you well, and in
dearenesse of heart) hath holpe to effect your ensuing
marriage: furclye fute ill f spent, and labour ill beftowed.

Prin. Why, what's the matter?

Bassard. I came hither to tell you, and circumstances
shortned, (for she hath beene too long a talking of) the
Lady is difloyall.

Cla. Who Hero?

Bass. Euen *Shee*, *Leonatoes* *Hero*, your *Hero*, every
mans *Hero*.

Cla. Difloyall?

Bass. The word is too good to paint out her wicked-
ness, I could fay she were worfe, thinke you of a worfe
title, and I will fit her to it: wonder not till further war-
rant: goe but with mee to night, you fyal fee her cham-
ber window entred, euen the night before her wedding
day, if you loue her, then to morrow wed her: But it
would better fit your honour to change your mindes.

Cland. May this be so?

Prin. I will not thinke it.

Bass. If you dare not trust that you fee, confesse not
that you know: if you will follow mee, I will fhow you
enough, and when you haue feene more, & heard more,
proceed accordingly.

Cla. If I fee any thing to night, why I should not
marry her to morrow in the congregation, where I fhold
weddé, there will I fhame her.

Prin. And as I wooed for thee to obtaine her, I will
ioyne with thee to difgrace her.

Bass. I will difparage her no farther, till you are my
witnesses, beare it coldly but till night, and let the ille
fhow it felfe.

Prin. O day vntowardly turned?

Cland. O mifchiefe strangelie thwarting!

Bassard. O plague right well prevented! so will you
fay, when you haue feene the sequele.

Enter Dogbery and his Companier with the watch.

Dog. Are you good men and true?

Verg. Yea, or elfe it were pitty but they should suffer
faluation body and foule.

Dogb. Nay, that were a punifhment too good for
them, if they should haue any allegiance in them, being
chofen for the Princes watch.

Verges. Well, guie them their charge, neighbour
Dogbery.

Dog. Firft, who thinke you the moſt defartleſſe man
to be Conſtable?

Watch. 1. *Hugh Ote-cake fir*, or *George Sea-coale*, for
they can write and reade.

Dogb. Come hither neighbour Sea-coale, God hath
bleſt you with a good name: to be a wel-fauoured man,
is the gift of Fortune, but to write and reade, comes by
Nature.

Watch 2. Both which Master Conſtable

Dogb. You haue: I knew it would be your anſwere:
well, for your fauour fir, why giue God thankes, & make
no boast of it, and for your writing and reading, let that
appeare when there is no need of ſuch vanity, you are
thought heere to be the moſt ſenſleſſe and fit man for the
Conſtable of the watch : therefore beare you the lan-
thorne: this is your charge: You ſhall comprehend all
vagrom men, you are to bid any man ſtand in the Prin-
ces name.

Watch 2. How if a will not ſtand?

Dogb. Why then take no note of him, but let him go,
and prefently call the reſt of the Watch together, and
thanke God you are ridd of a knaue.

Verges. If he will not ſtand when he is bidden, hee is
none of the Princes ſubieſts.

Dogb. True, and they are to meddle with none but
the Princes ſubieſts: you ſhall alſo make no noſe in the
ſtreetes: for, for the Watch to babble and talke, is moſt
tellerable, and not to be induced.

Watch. We will rather fleepe than talke, wee know
what belongs to a Watch.

Dog. Why you ſpeake like an ancient and moſt quiet
watchman, for I cannot fee how fleeping (should offend
: only hane a care that your bills be not ſolne: well, you
are to call at all the Alehouſes, and bid them that are
drunkne get them to bed.

Watch. How if they will not?

Dogb. Why then let them alone till they are ſober, if
they make you not then the better anſwere, you may ſay,
they are not the men you tooke them for.

Watch. Well fir.

Dogb. If you meet a theefe, you may ſupſeect him, by
vertue of your office, to be no true man : and for ſuch
kinde of men, the leſſe you meddle or make with them,
why the more is for your honeſty.

Watch. If wee know him to be a thieſe, ſhall wee not
lay hands on him.

Dogb. Truly by your office you may, but I think they
that touch pitch will be defil'd: the moſt peaceable way
for you, if you doe take a theefe, is, to let him ſhow him-
ſelfe what he is, and ſteale out of your company.

Ver. You haue bin alwaies cal'd a merciful man partner.

Dog. Truely I would not hang a dog by my will, much
more a man who hath anie honeſtie in him.

K 2

Verges.

Much adoe about Nothing.

112

Verges. If you heare a child crie in the night you must
call to the nurse, and bid her still it.

Watch. How if the nurse be asleep and will not
heare vs?

Dog. Why then depart in peace, and let the childe
wake her with crying, for the ewe that will not heare
her Lambe when it baes, will neuer anſwere a calf when
he bleates.

Verges. Tis verie true.

Dog. This is the end of the charge: you conſtable
are to preſent the Princes owne perſon, if you meete the
Prince in the night, you may ſtaie him.

Verges. Nay birladie that I thinke a cannot.

Dog. Fife ſhillings to one on't with anie man that
knowes the Statues, he may ſtaie him, marrie not with-
out the prince be willing, for indeed the watch ought to
offend no man, and it is an offence to ſtay a man againſt
his will.

Verges. Birladie I thinke it be so.

Dog. Ha,ah,ha, well maſters good night, and there be
anie matter of weight chances, call vp me, keepe your
ſellowes counſailes, and your owne, and good night,
come neighbour.

Watch. Well maſters, we heare our charge, let vs go
ſit here upon the Church bench till two, and then all to
bed.

Dog. One word more, honest neighbors. I pray you
watch about Signior Leomatoes doore, for the wedding be-
ing there to morrow, there is a great coyle to night,
adiewe, be vigilant I beſeeth you.

Exeunt.

Enter Borachio and Conrad.

Bor. What, Conrad?

Watch. Peace, sir not.

Bor. Conrad I lay.

Con. Here man, I am at thy elbow.

Bor. Mas and my elbow itcht, I thought there would
a ſcabe follow.

Con. I will owe thee an anſwere for that, and now
forward with thy tale.

Bor. Stand thee close then vnder this penthouse, for it
driffels raine, and I will, like a true drunkard, vtter all to
thee.

Watch. Some treaſon maſters, yet ſtand close.

Bor. Therefore know, I haue earned of Don Iohn a
thouſand Ducates.

Con. Is it poſſible that anie villanie should be so deare?

Bor. Thou shouldst it rather aske if it were poſſible a-
nie villanie should be so rich? for when rich villians haue
neede of poore ones, poore ones may make what price
they will.

Con. I wonder at it.

Bor. That ſhewes thou art vnconfirm'd, thou knoweſt
that the fashión of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloake, is no-
thing to a man.

Con. Yes, it is apparell.

Bor. I meane the fashión.

Con. Yes the fashión is the fashión.

Bor. Tuſh, I may as well ſay the foole's the foole, but
ſeelt thou not what a deformed theſe this fashión is?

Watch. I know that deformed, a has bin a vile theſe,
this vii. yeares, a goes vp and downe like a gentle man:
I remember his name.

Bor. Did it thou not heare some bodie?

Con. No, twas the vaine on the houſe.

Bor. See ſelt thou not (I ſay) what a deformed theſe
this fashión is, how giddily a turnes about all the Hot-

clouds, betweene ſoureteene & ſiue & thirtie, ſometimes
fashioning them like Pharaos ſouſiours in the rechie
painting, ſometime like god Bel's priefes in the old
Church window, ſometiene like the ſhauen Hercules in
the ſmirch worm-eaten tapeſtrie, where his cod-peee
ſeemes as maſſie as his club.

Con. All this I fee, and fee that the fashión weares out
more apparrell then the man, but art not thou thy ſelſe
giddie with the fashión too that thou haſt ſhiften out of
thy tale into telling me of the fashión?

Bor. Not so neither, but know that I haue to night
wooded Margaret the Lady Heroes gentle-woman, by the
name of Hero, ſhe leanes me out at her miſtris chamber-
vvindow, bids me a thouſand times good night: I tell
this tale vildly. I should firſt tell thee how the Prince
Claudio and my Maſter planted, and placed, and poſſeſſed
by my Maſter Don Iohn, ſaw a far off in the Orchard this
amiable encounter.

Con. And thought thy Margaret was Hero?

Bor. Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio, but the
diuell my Maſter knew ſhe was Margaret and partly by
his oathes, which firſt poſſeſt them, partly by the darke
night which did deceiue them, but chiefely, by my villa-
nie, which did confirm any flander that Don Iohn had
made, away vvent Claudio enraged, ſwove hee vvould
meete her as he was apointed next morning at the Tem-
ple, and there, before the whole congregation ſhame her
with what he ſaw o're night, and ſend her home againe
vvithout a husband.

Watch. 1. We charge you in the Princes name stand.

Watch. 2. Call vp the right maſter Conſtable, vve haue
here recouered the moſt dangerous peecce of lechery, that
euer vvas knowne in the Common-wealth.

Watch. 1. And one Deformed is one of them, I know
him, a vveares a locke.

Conr. Maſters, maſters.

Watch. 2. Youle be made bring deformed forth I war-
rant you,

Conr. Maſters, neuer ſpeake, vve charge you, let vs o-
bey you to goe vvith vs.

Bor. We are like to proue a goodly commoditie, be-
ing taken vp of theſe mens bilſ.

Conr. A commoditie in queſtion I warrant you, come
vveele obey you.

Exeunt.

Enter Hero, and Margaret, and Ursula.

Hero. Good Ursula wake my cosin Beatrice, and de-
fire her to rife..

Ursu. I will Lady.

Her. And bid her come hither.

Vxſ. Well.

Mar. Troth I thinke your other rebato were better.

Bero. No pray thee good Meg, Ile vveare this.

Marg. By my troth's not so good, and I vverrant your
coſin v vill ſay ſo.

Bero. My cosin's a foole, and thou art another, ile
vveare none but this.

Mar. I like the new tire vwithin excellently, if the
haire vvere a thought browner : and your gown's a moſt
rare fashión yfaith, I ſaw the Dutcheſſe of Millainet
gowne that they praiſe ſo.

Bero. O that exceeds they ſay.

Mar. By my troth's but a night-gowne in respect of
yours, cloth a gold and cuts, and lac'd with filuer, ſet with
pearles, downe fleeces, ſide fleeces, and skirts, round vn-
derborn with a blewifh tinſel, but for a fine queſit grace-
full and excellent fashión, yours is worth ten on't.

Bero. God

Much aloe about Nothing.

113

Hero. God giue mee ioy to weare it, for my heart is exceeding heavy.

Marga. 'Twill be heauier Ioone, by the waight of a man.

Hero. Fie vpon thee, are not aham'd?

Marga. Of what Lady ? of speaking honourably ? is not marriage honourable in a beggar ? is not your Lord honourable without marriage ? I thinke you would haue me fay, fauing your reverence a husband : and bad thinking doe not wreft true speaking, Ile offend no body, is there any harme in the heauier for a husband ? none I thinke, and it be the right husband, and the right wife, otherwife 'tis light and not heauy, aske my Lady Beatrice elfe, here she comes.

Enter Beatrice.

Hero. Good morrow Coze.

Beat. Good morrow sweet Hero.

Hero. Why how now? do you speake in the fiek tune?

Beat. I am out of all other tune, me thinkes.

Mar. Claps into Light a loue, (that goes without a burden,) do you sing it and Ile dance it.

Beat. Ye Light alone with your heeles, then if your husband haue tables enough, you'll looke he shall lacke no barnes.

Mar. O illegitimate construiction! I fcorne that with my heeles.

Beat. 'Tis almost fiue a clocke cofin, 'tis time you were ready, by my troth I am exceeding ill, hey ho.

Mar. For a hauke, a horfe, or a husband?

Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H.

Mar. Well, and you be not turn'd Turke, there's no more faying by the starre.

Beat. What means the foole trow?

Mar. Nothing I, but God fend every one their harts desire.

Hero. These gloues the Count ſent mee, they are an excellent perfume.

Beat. I am ftuft cofin, I cannot ſmell.

Mar. A maid and ftuft! there's goodly catching of colde.

Beat. O God helpe me, God help me, how long haue you profet apprehension?

Mar. Euer ſince you left it, doth not my wit become me rarely?

Beat. It is not ſene enough, you ſhould weare it in your cap, by my troth I am fike.

Mar. Get you ſome of this diff't'd carduins benedictus and lay it to your heart, it is the only thing for a qualm.

Hero. There thou prickſt her with a thiffell.

Beat. Benedictus, why benedictus? you haue ſome morall in this benedictus.

Mar. Morall ? no by my troth, I haue no morall meaſing, I meant plaine holy thisſell, you may thinke perſance that I thinke you are in loue, nay birlady I am not ſuch a foole to thinke what I lift, nor I lift not to thinke what I can, nor indeed I cannot thinke, if I would thinke my hart out of thinking, that you are in loue, or that you will be in loue, or that you can be in loue : yet Benedicke was ſuch another, and now is he become a man, he ſwere hee would neuer marry, and yet now in deſpight of his heart he eates his meat without grudging, and how you may be converted I know not, but me thinkes you looke with your eies as other women doe.

Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keeps.

Mar. Not a false gallop.

Enter Vrſula.

Vrſula. Madam, withdraw, the Prince, the Count, figlior Benedicke, Don Iohn, and all the gallants of the towne are come to fetch you to Church.

Hero. Helpe to drefle mee good coze, good Meg, good Vrſula.

Enter Leonato, and the Constable, and the Headborough.

Leonato. What would you with mee, honest neighbour?

Conſt. Dog. Mary fir I would haue ſome confidence with you, that decernes you nearly.

Leon. Briefe I pray you, for you fee it is a buſe time with me.

Conſt. Dog. Mary this it is fir.

Headb. Yes in truth it is fir.

Leon. What is it my good friends?

Con. Do. Goodman Verges fir ſpeakes a little of the matter, an old man fir, and his wits are not ſo blunt, as God helpe I would define they were, but infaith honest as the skin betweene his browses.

Head. Yes I thank God, I am as honest as any man living, that is an old man, and no honeſter then I.

Con. Dog. Comparisons are odorous, palabras, neighbour Verges.

Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious.

Con. Dog. It pleales your worſhip to ſay so, but we are the poore Dukes officers, but truly for mine owne part, if I were as tedious as a King, I could finde in my heart to beſtow it all of your worſhip.

Leon. All thy tediousneſſe on me, ah?

Conſt. Dog. Yea, and 'twere a thouſand times more than 'tis, for I heare as good exclamation on your Worſhip as of any man in the Citie, and though I bee but a poore man, I am glad to heare it.

Head. And so am I.

Leon. I would faire know what you haue to ſay.

Head. Marry fir our watch to night, excepting your worſhips prefence, haue tane a couple of as arrant knaues as any in Meflina.

Con. Dog. A good old man fir, hee will be talking as they ſay, when the age is in the wit is out, God helpe vs, it is a world to fee : well ſaid yfaith neighbour Verges, well, God's a good man, and two men ride of a horſe, one muſt ride behinde, an honest ſoule yfaith fit, by my troth he is, as euer broke bread, but God is to bee worſhipt, all men are not alike, alas good neighbour.

Leon. Indeed neighbour he comes too ſhort of you.

Con. Do. Gifts that God giues.

Leon. I muſt leaue you.

Con. Dog. One word fir, our watch fir haue indeede comprehended two aspitiouſ persons, & we would haue them this morning examined before your worſhip.

Leon. Take their examination your ſelſe, and bring it me, I am now in great hafte, as may appeare vnto you.

Conſt. It ſhall be ſuffigance.

(Exit.)

Leon. Drinke ſome wine ere you goe: fare you well.

Meffenger. My Lord, they ſay for you to giue your daughter to her husband.

Leon. Ile wait vpon them, I am ready.

Dog. Goe good partner, goe get you to Francis Sea-coale, bid him bring his pen and inkehorne to the Gaole: we are now to examine thofe men.

Verges. And we muſt doe it wifely.

Dog. Wee will ſpare for no witte I warrant you:

K 3

heere

Much ado about Nothing.

114

here's that shall drive some of them to a non-come, only get the learned writer to set downe our excommunication, and meet me at the Jaile.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus.

Enter Prince, Basford, Leonato, Frier, Claudio, Benedicke,
Hero, and Beatrice.

Leonato. Come Frier Francis, be briefe, only to the plaine forme of marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties afterwards.

Fran. You come hither, my Lord, to marry this Lady.
Clau. No.

Leo. To be married to her: Frier, you come to marrie her.

Frier. Lady, you come hither to be married to this Count.

Hero. I, doe.

Frier. If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conioyned, I charge you on your foules to vtter it.

Claud. Know you anie, Hero ?

Hero. None my Lord.

Frier. Know you anie, Count ?

Leon. I dare make his anſwer, None.

Claud. O what men dare do ! what men may do ! what men daily do !

Bene. How now ! interjeſtions ? why then, some be of laughing, as ha, ha, ha.

Claud. Stand thee by Frier, father, by your leaue,
Will you with free and unconſtrained foule
Gie me this maid your daughter ?

Leon. As freely ſonne as God did giue her me.

Cla. And what haue I to giue you back, whoſe worth
May counterpoife this rich and precious gift?

Trin. Nothing, vnleſſe you render her againe.

Claud. Sweet Prince, you learn me noble thankſules:
There Leonato, take her backe againe,
Gie not this rotten Orenge to your friend,
Shee's but the ſigne and ſembance of her honour:
Behold how like a maid she blushes heere !
O what authoritie and ſhew of truth
Can cunning ſinne couer it ſelfe withall !
Comes not that cloud, as modeſt evidence,
To witneſſe ſimple Vertue ? would you not ſwear
All you that fee her, that ſhe were a maide,
By theſe exterior ſhewes ? But ſhe is none :
She knowes the heat of a luxurious bed :
Her blush is guiltineſſe, not modeſtie.

Leonato. What doe you meane, my Lord?

Claud. Not to be married,

Not to knit my ſoule to an approued wanton.

Leon. Deere my Lord, if you in your owne proofe,
Hauе vanquifh the refiſtance of her youth,
And made defeat of her virginitie.

Claud. I know what you would ſay: if I haue knowne
You will ſay, ſhe did imbrace me as a husband,
And so extenuate the forehand ſinne: No Leonato,
I neuer tempted her with word too large,
But as a brother to his ſifter, ſhewed
Baſhfull ſinceritie and comely loue.

Hero. And seem'd I euer otherwife to you?

Claud. Out on thee ſeeming, I will write againſt it,
You ſeeme to me as Diane in her Orbe,
As chaſſe as is the budde ere it be blowne :
But you are more intemperate in your blood,
Than Venus, or thate pampred animals,
That rage in ſauage ſenſualitie.

Hero. Is my Lord well, that he doth ſpeake so wide?

Leon. Sweete Prince, why ſpeake not you?

Prin. What should I ſpeake ?

I stand diſhonour'd that haue gone about,
To linke my deare friend to a common ſtale.

Leon. Are theſe things ſpoken, or do I but dreame?

Baſt. Sir, they are ſpoken, and theſe things are true.

Bene. This looks not like a nuptiall.

Hero. True, O God!

Claud. Leonato, I stand I here ?

Is this the Prince ? is this the Princes brother ?

Is this face Heroes ? are our eies our owne?

Leon. All this is so, but what of this my Lord?

Claud. Let me but moue one queſtion to your daugh-
And by that fatherly and kindly power,
That you haue in her, bid her anſwer truly.

Leo. I charge thee doe, as thou art my childe.

Hero. O God defend me how am I beſet?

What kindne of catechizing call you this ?

Claud. To make you anſwer truly to your name.

Hero. Is it not Hero ? who can blot that name

With any iuſt reproach ?

Claud. Marry that can Hero,

Hero it ſelfe can blpt out Heroes vertue.

What man was he, talkt with you yeſternight,
Out at your window betwixt twelue and one?

Now if you are a maid, anſwer to this.

Hero. I talkt with no man at that howre my Lord,

Prince. Why then you are no maiden. Leonato,

I am ſorry you muſt heare: vpon mine honor,
My ſelfe, my brother, and this griened Count
Did fee her, heare her, at that howre laſt night,
Talke with a ruffian at her chamber window,
Who hath indeed moſt like a liberall villaine,
Conſeſt the vile encounters they haue had

A thousand times in ſecre.

John. Fie, fie, they are not to be named my Lord,
Not to be ſpoken of,

There is not chaſtitie enough in language,
Without offence to vtter them: thus pretty Lady
I am ſorry for thy much miſ government.

Claud. O Hero ! what a Hero hadſt thou beene
If half thy outward graces had beene placed
About thy thoughts and counſailes of thy heart ?
But fare thee well, moſt ſoule, moſt faire, farewell
Thou pure impiety, and impious puritie,
For thee I leocke vp all the gates of Loue,
And on my eie-lids ſhall Conſeſture hang,
To turne all beauty into thoughts of harme,
And neuer ſhall it more be gracious.

Leon. Hath no mans dagger here a point for me?

Beat. Why how now Colin, wherfore ſink you down?

Baſt. Come, let vs go: theſe things come thus to light,
Smother her ſpirits vp.

Bene. How doth the Lady ?

Beat. Dead I thinke, helpe vnkle,

Hero, why Hero, Vncle, Signor Benedicke, Frier.

Leonato. O Fate ! take not away thy heavy hand,
Death is the faireſt couer for her ſhame
That may be wſiſt for.

Beat. How

Much adoe about Nothing.

115

Bear. How now coſin Here?
Fri. Haue comfort Ladie.
Leon. Doſt thou looke vp?
Fri. Yea, wherefore should ſhe not?
Leon. Wherfore? Why doth not euery earthly thing
Cry ſhame vpon her? Could ſhe heere denie
The ſtorie that is printed in her blood?
Do not liue Hero, do not ope thine eyes:
For did I thinke thou wouldſt not quickly die,
Thought I thy ſpirits were ſtronger then thy ſhames,
My ſelfe would on the reward of reproaches
Strike at thy life. Grieu'd I, I had but one?
Chid I, for that at frugal Natures frame?
O one too much by thee: why had I one?
Why euer was't thou louelie in my eies?
Why had I not with charitable hand
Tooke vp a beggars ilſue at my gates,
Who ſmeered thus, and mir'd with infamie,
I might haue faid, no part of it is mine:
This ſhame deriues it ſelfe from vnknowne loines,
But mine, and mine I lou'd, and mine I prais'd,
And mine that I was proud on mine ſo much,
That I my ſelfe, was to my ſelfe not mine:
Valewing of her, why ſhe, O ſhe is falne
Into a pit of Inke, that the wide ſea
Hath drops too few to wash her cleane againe,
And ſalt too little, which may ſeason giue
To her vnto tainted ſleſh.

Ben. Sir, fir, be patient: for my part, I am ſo attired
in wonder, I know not what to ſay.

Bea. O on my ſoule my coſin is belied.

Ben. Ladie, were you her bedfellow laſt night?

Bea. No truly: not although vntill laſt night,
I haue this tweluemonth his bedfellow.

Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd, O that is ſtronger made
Which was before barr'd vp with ribs of iron.
Would the Princes lie, and Claudio lie,
Who lou'd her ſo, that ſpeaking of her foulneſſe,
Wash'd it with teares? Hence from her, let her die.

Fri. Heare me a little, for I haue onely bene ſilent ſo
long, and giuen way vnto this course of fortune, by no-
ting of the Ladie, I haue markt.
A thouſand blushing apparitions,
To ſpart into her face, a thouſand innocent ſhames,
In Angel whitenesse beare away those blushes,
And in her eie there hath appear'd a fire
To burne the errors that theſe Princes hold
Aginſt her maiden truth. Call me a ſoole,
Traſt not my reading, nor my obferuations,
Which with experimental ſeale doth warrant
The tenure of my booke: truſt not my age,
My reverence, calling, nor diuinitie,
If this ſweet Ladie lye not guiltlesſe heere,
Vnder ſome biting error.

Leo. Friar, it cannot be:
Thou ſeest that all the Grace that ſhe hath left,
Is, that ſhe wil not adde to her damnation,
A finne of periury, ſhe not denies it:
Why ſeek it thou then to couer with excuse,
That which appears in proper nakedneſſe?

Fri. Ladie, what man is he you are accus'd of?

Hero. They know that do accuſe me, I know none:
If I know more of any man aliuie
Then that which maiden modestie doth warrant,
Let all my finnes lacke mercy. O my Father,
Proue you that any man with me conuerſt,

At hours vnmeete, or that I yefternight
Maintain'd the change of words with any creature,
Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death.

Fri. There is ſome strange miſprifion in the Princes.

Ben. Two of them haue the verie bent of honor,
And if their wifedomes be miſled in this:
The praeſtife of it liues in Iohn the baſtard,
Whof ſpirits toile in frame of villanies.

Leo. I know not: if they ſpeake but truth of her,
Thefe hands ſhall reſte her: If they wrong her honour,
The proudeſt of them ſhall weal heare of it,
Time hath not yet ſo dried this bloud of mine,
Nor age ſo eate vp my invention,
Nor Fortune made ſuch hauocke of my meanes,
Nor my bad life reſt me ſo much of friends,
But they ſhall finde, awak'd in ſuch a kinde,
Both ſtrength of limbe, and policie of minde,
Ability in meanes, and choife of friends,
To quit me of them throughly.

Fri. Pauſe awhile:
And let my counſell ſway you in this caſe,
Your daughter heere the Princesſe (left for dead)
Let her awhile be ſecretly kept in,
And publifh it, that ſhe is dead indeed:
Maintaine a mourning ſonſtation,
And on your Families old monument,
Hang mournuſull Epitaphes, and do all rites,
That appertaine vnto a buriall.

Leon. What ſhall become of this? What wil this do?

Fri. Marry this well carried, ſhall on her behalſe,
Change ſlander to remorſe, that is ſome good,
But not for that dreame I on this ſtrange course,
But on this trauale ilke for greater birth:
She dying, as it muſt be maintain'd,
Vpon the instant that ſhe was accus'd,
Shal be lamented, pittied, and excus'd
Of euery hearer: for it ſo fails out,
That what we haue, we prize not to the worth,
Whiles we enioy it; but being lack'd and loſt,
Why then we racke the value, then we ſinde
The vertue that poſſeffion would not ſhow vs
Whiles it was ours, ſo will it fare with Claudio:
When he ſhal heare ſhe dyed vpon his words,
Th' Idea of her life ſhal weetly creepe
Into his ſtudy of imagination.

And euery louely Organ of her life,
Shall come appareſt in more precious habite:
More mouing delicate, and ful of life,
Into the eye and prospect of his ſoule
Then when ſhe liu'd indeed: then ſhal he mourne,
If euer Loue had intereſt in his Liuer,
And wiſh he had not ſo accuſed her:
No, though he thought his accuſation true:
Let this be ſo, and doubt not but ſuccesſe
Wil fashion the euent in better ſhape,
Then I can lay it downe in likelihood.
But if all ayme but this be leuelld falſe,
The ſappofition of the Ladies death,
Will quench the wonder of her infamie.
And it ſo fort not well, you may conceale her,
As beſt beſits her wounded reputation,
In ſome recluſive and religious life,
Out of all eyes, tongnes, mindes and iniuries.

Bene. Signior Leonato, let the Friar aduife you,
And though you know my inwardneſſe and loue
Is very much vnto the Prince and Claudio.

Yet

Much adoe about Nothing.

116

Yet, by mine honor, I will deale in this,
As secretly and ilustie, as your foule
Should with your bodie.

Leon. Being that I flow in greefe,
The Smallest twine may lead me.

Frier. Tis well confented, presently away,
For to strange fores, strangely they straine the cure,
Come Lady, die to liue, this wedding day
Perhaps is but prolong'd, haue patience & endure. Exit.

Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?

Beat. Yea, and I will weepie a while longer.

Bene. I will not desire that.

Beat. You haue no reason, I doe it freely.

Bene. Surelie I do beleue your fair cozin is wrong'd.

Beat. Ah, how much might the man deferue of mee
that would right her!

Bene. Is there any way to shew such friendship?

Beat. A verie euen way, but no such friend.

Bene. May a man doe it?

Beat. It is a mans office, but not yours.

Bene. I doe loue nothing in the world so well as you,
is not that strange?

Beat. As strange as the thing I know not, it were as
possible for me to say, I loued nothing so well as you, but
beleeue me not, and yet I lie not, I confess nothing, nor
I deny nothing, I am forsy for my coatin.

Bene. By my word Beatrice thou lou'st me.

Beat. Do not fweare by it and eat it.

Bene. I will fweare by it that you loue mee, and I will
make him eat it that fayes I loue not you.

Beat. Will you not eat your word?

Bene. With no fawce that can be deuised to it, I protest I loue thee.

Beat. Why then God forgive me.

Bene. What offence sweet Beatrice?

Beat. You haue stayed me in a happy howre, I was about to protest I loued you.

Bene. And do it with all thy heart.

Beat. I loue you with so much of my heart, that none is left to protest.

Bened. Come, bid me doe any thing for thee.

Beat. Kill Claudio.

Bene. Ha, not for the wide world.

Beat. You kill me to denie, farewell.

Bene. Tarry sweet Beatrice.

Beat. I am gone, though I am heere, there is no loue
in you, nay I pray you let me goe.

Bene. Beatrice.

Beat. Infaith I will goe.

Bene. We'll be friends first.

Beat. You dare easier be friends with mee, than fight
with mine enemy.

Bene. Is Claudio thine enemie?

Beat. Is a not approyed in the height a villaine, that
hath flandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinf woman? O
that I were a man ! what, beare her in hand vntill they
come to take hands, and then with publike accufation
vncouered flander, vnmittigated rancour? O God that I
were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place.

Bene. Heare me Beatrice.

Beat. Talke with a man out at a window, a proper
faying.

Bene. Nay but Beatrice.

Beat. Sweet Hero, she is wrong'd, shee is flandered,
she is vndone.

Bene. Beat?

Beat. Princes and Counties ! furelie a Princely teftion,
monie, a goodly Count, Comfeet, a sweet Gallant furelie,
O that I were a man for his fake ! or that I had any
friend would be a man for my fake/But manhood is mel-
ted into curfies, valour into complement, and men are
onelie turned into tongue, and trim ones too : he is now
as valiant as Hercules, that only tells a lie, and fweares it:
I cannot be a man with wifhing, therfore I will die a wo-
man with grieuing.

Bene. Tarry good Beatrice, by this, hand I loue thee.

Beat. Vfe it for my loue, fome other way then fwea-
ring by it.

Bened. Thinke you in your foule the Count Claudio
hath wrong'd Hero?

Beat. Yea, as fure as I haue a thought, or a foule,

Bene. Enough, I am engag'd, I will challenge him, I
will kiffle your hand, and so leauie you : by this hand Clau-
dio (shall render me a deere account : as you heare of me,
so thinke of me: goe comfort your coofin, I muft fay the
is dead, and so farewell.

Enter the Conftables, Borachio, and the Towne Clerke
in gowns.

Keeper. Is our whole diſſembly appear'd?

Cowley. O a floole and a cushion for the Sexton.

Sexton. Which be the malefactors?

Andrew. Marry that am I, and my partner.

Cowley. Nay that's certaine, wee haue the exhibition
to examine.

Sexton. But which are the offenders that are to be ex-
amined, let them come before after Conſtable.

Kemp. Yea marry, let them come before mee, what is
your name, friend?

Bor. Borachio.

Kemp. Pray write downe Borachio. Yours firra.

Con. I am a Gentleman fir, and my name is Conrade.

Kee. Write downe Maſter gentleman Conrades: maſters,
doe you ferue God: maſters, it is proud alreadye
that you are little better than falſe knaues, and it will got
neere to be thought so ſo shortly, how anſwer you for your
felues?

Con. Marry fir, we fay we are none.

Kemp. A maruelous witty fellow I affure you, but I
will goe about with him: come you hither firra, a word
in your eare fir, I ſay to you, it is thought you are falſe
knaues.

Ber. Sir, I ſay to you, we are none.

Kemp. Well, ſand afide, 'fore God they are both in
a tale: haue you writ downe that they are none?

Sext. Maſter Conſtable, you goe not the way to ex-
amine, you muſt call forth the watch that are their ac-
cufers.

Kemp. Yea marry, that's the eſt way, let the watch
come forth: maſters, I charge you in the Princes name,
accufe these men.

Watch 1. This man ſaid fir, that Don Iohn the Princes
brother was a villaine.

Kemp. Write down, Prince Iohn a villaine: why this
is flat periurie, to call a Princes brother villaine.

Bora. Maſter Conſtable.

Kemp. Pray thee fellow peace, I do not like thy looke
I promife thee.

Sexton. What heard you him ſay elfe?

Watch 2. Mary that he had received a thousandth Dukates of Don Iohn, for accufing the Lady Hero wrongfully.

Much adoe about Nothing.

117

Kemp. Flat Burglarie as euer was committed,

Conft. Yea by th'affe that it is.

Sexton. What else fellow?

Watch 1. And that Count Claudio did meane vpon his
words, to difgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and
not marry her.

Kemp. O villaine! thou wilt be condemn'd into euer-
lasting redemption for this.

Sexton. What else?

Watch. This is all.

Sexton. And this is more mafters then you can deny,
Prince John is this morning secretly itolne away: Hero
was in this manner accus'd, in this very manner refus'd,
and vpon the grieſe of this fadainely died: Maſter Con-
ſtable, let theſe men be bound, and brought to Leonato,
I will goe before, and ſhow him their examination.

Conſt. Come, let them be opinion'd.

Sex. Let them be in the hands of Coxcombe.

Kem. Gods my life, where's the Sexton let him write
downe the Princes Officer Coxcombe: come, binde them
thou naughty varlet.

Cousley. Away, you are an affe, you are an affe.

Kemp. Doff thou not suspect my place? doth thou not
suspect my yeeres ? O that shee were here to write mee
downe an affe ! but maſters, remember that I am an affe :
though it be not written down, yet forget not y I am an
affe: No thou villaine, y art full of piety as shall be prou'd
vpon thee by good witneſſe, I am a wife fellow, and
which is more, an officer, and which is more, a houſhoul-
der, and which is more, as pretty a peec of ſleſh as any in
Mellina, and one that knowes the Law, goe to, & a rich
fellow enough, goe to, and a fellow that hath had loſſes,
and one that hath two gowns, & euery thing hand-
fome about him: bring him away: O that I had been writ
downe an affe !

Exit.

## Actus Quintus.

Enter Leonato and his brother.

Brother. If you goe on thus, you will kill your ſelfe,
And 'tis not wifedome thus to ſecond grieſe,
Against your ſelfe.

Leon. I pray thee ceaſe thy counſaile,
Which falls into mine eares as profitleſſe,
As water in a ſiue: gieue not me counſaile,
Nor let no comfort delight mine eare,
But ſuch a one whole wronges doth ſute with mine.

Bring me a father that ſo lou'd his childe,
Whole ioy of her is ouer-whelmed like mine,
And bid him ſpeake of patience,
Measure his woe the length and bredth of mine,
And let it anſwere euery ſtraine for ſtraine,

Aſthus for thus, and ſuch a grieſe for ſuch,

In every lineament, branch, ſhape, and forme :

If ſuch a one will ſmile and ſtroke his beard,

And forrow, wagge, crie hem, when he ſhould grone,
Patch grieſe with prouerbs; make misfortune drunke,
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 counſaile, and ſpeake comfort to that grieſe,
Which they themselves nor ſeele, but taſting it,

Their counſaile turnes to paſſion, which before,

Would giue preceptiall medicine to rage,
Feeter ftrong madneſſe in a ſilken thred,

Charme ache with ayre, and agony with words,

No, no, 'tis all mens office, to ſpeake patience

To thate that wring vnder the load of ſorrow :

But no mans vertue nor ſufficiencie

To be ſo morall, when he ſhall endure

The like himſelfe: therefore giue me no counſaile,

My griefs cry lowder then aduertisement.

Broth. Therein do men from children nothing differ.

Leonato. I pray thee peace, I will be ſleſh and bloud,
For there was neuer yet Philofopher,

That could endure the tooth-ake patiently,

How euer they haue writ the ſile of gods,

And made a puſh at chance and ſufferance.

Brother. Yet bend not all the harme vpon your ſelfe,
Make thate that doe offend you, ſuffer too.

Leon. There thou speak'st it reafon, nay I will doe so,
My ſoule doth tell me, Hero is belied,

And that ſhall Claudio know, so ſhall the Prince,

And all of them that thus diſhonour her.

Enter Prince and Claudio.

Brot. Here comes the Prince and Claudio haſtily.

Prin. Good den, good den.

Claus. Good day to both of you.

Leon. Heare you my Lords ?

Prin. We haue ſome haſſe Leonato.

Leo. Some haſſe my Lord! wel, fare you well our Lord,
Are you ſo haſtynow ? well, all is one.

Prin. Nay, do not quarrell with vs, good old man.

Brot. If he could rite himſelfe with quarrelling,

Some of vs would lie low.

Claud. Who wrongs him?

Leon. Matry y doſt wrong me, thou diſembler, thou:
Nay, neuer lay thy hand vpon thy ſword,
I feare thee not.

Claud. Matry beſhrew my hand,
If it should giue your age such cauſe of feare,
Intaith my hand meant nothing to my ſword.

Leonato. Tufh, tufh, man, neuer fleere and ieſt at me,
I ſpeake not like a dotard, nor a foolle,

As vnder pruileidge of age to bragge,
What I haue done being yong, or what would doe,

Were I not old, know Claudio to thy head,

Thou haſt so wrong'd my innocent childe and me,

That I am forſ'd to lay my reuerence by,

And with grey haires and bruife of many daies,

Doe challenge thee to triall of a man,

I ſay thou haſt belied mine innocent childe.

Thy ſlander hath gone through and through her heart,

And the lies buried with her anceſtors :

O in a tombe where neuer ſcandall ſlept,

Saue this of hers, fram'd by thy villanie.

Claud. My villany ?

Leonato. Thine Claudio, thine I ſay.

Prin. You ſay nor right old man,

Leon. My Lord, my Lord,

Ile proue it on his body if he dare,

Despight his nice ſence, and his active prætife,

His Maie of youth, and bloome of Juſtihood.

Claud. Away, I will not haue to do with you.

Leo. Canſt thou ſo daffe me? thou haſt kill my child,
If thou kill me, boy, thou haſt kill a man.

Bro. He ſhall kill two of vs, and men indeed,
But that's no matter, let him kill one firſt:

Win

Much adoe about Nothing.

118

Win me and weare me, let him anſwere me;
Come follow me boy, come ſir boy, come follow me
Sir boy, ile whip you from your foſning fence,
Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will.

Leon. Brother.

Brot. Content your ſelf, God knows I lou'd my neece,
And ſhe is dead, flander'd to death by villaines,
That dare as well anſwer a man indeede,
As I d are take a ſerpent by the tongue,
Boyesapes, braggards, Iacke, milke-fops.

Leon. Brother Anthony.

Brot. Hold you content, what man? I know them, yea
And what they weigh, euen to the vtmoſt scruple,
Scambling, out-facing, faſhion-monging boyes,
That lye, and cog, and flout, deprae, and flander,
Goe antiquely, and ſhow outward hidiousneſſe,
And ſpeake of halle a dozen dangrous words,
How they might hurt their enemies, if they durſt.
And this is all.

Leon. But brother Anthonie.

Ant. Come, tis no matter,

Do not you meddle, let me deale in this.

Pri. Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience
My heart is farry for your daughters death :  
But on my honour ſhe was charg'd with nothing
But what was true, and very full of proofe.

Leon. My Lord, my Lord.

Prin. I will not heare you.

Enter Benedicke.

Leo. No come brother, away, I will be heard.

Exeunt ambo.

Bra. And ſhall, or ſome of vs will ſmarte for it.

Prin. See, ſee, here comes the man we went to feeke.

Claus. Now ſignior, what newes ?

Ben. Good day my Lord.

Prin. Welcome ſignior, you are almost come to part
almost a fray.

Claus. Wee had likt to haue had our two noſes ſnap
off with two old men without teeth.

Prin. Leonate and his brother, what thinkt he thou had
wee ſought, I doubt we should haue beene too yong for
them.

Ben. In a falſe quarrell there is no true valour, I came
to feeke you both.

Clau. We haue beene vp and downe to feeke thee, for
we are high proofe melancholly, and would ſajne haue it
beaten away, witt thou ſe thy wit?

Ben. It is in my ſabberd, shall I draw it?

Prin. Doeſt thou weare thy wit by thy ſide ?

Claus. Neuer any did ſo, though verie many haue been
befide their wit, I will bid thee drawe, as we do the min-
ſtrels, draw to pleafure vs.

Prin. As I am an honest man he looks pale, art thou
ſicke, or angrie?

Clau. What, courage man: what though care kil'd a
cat, thou haſt mettle enough in thee to kill care.

Ben. Sir, I ſhall meete your wit in the careere, and
you charge it againſt me, I pray you chufe another ſub-
jeſt.

Claus. Nay then give him another ſtaffe, this laſt was
broke croſſe.

Prin. By this light, he changes more and more, I thinke
he be angrie indeede.

Claus. If he be, he knows how to turne his girdle,

Ben. Shall I take a word in your ear?

Claus. God bleſſe me from a challenge.

Ben. You are a villaine, I ieſt 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 cowardife: you haue
till a ſweete Ladie, and her death ſhall fall heauie on
you, let me heare from you.

Claus. Well, I will meete you, so I may haue good
cheare.

Prin. What, a ſeaſt, a ſeaſt ?

Claus. I faith I thanke him, he hath bid me to a calues
head and a Capon, the which if I doe not carue moſt cu-
tiously, ſay my knife's naugit, ſhall I not finde a wood-
cocke too?

Ben. Sir, your wit ambles well, it goes easily.

Prin. Ile tell thee how Beatrice prais'd thy wit the o-
ther day: I ſaid thou hadſt a fine wit: true faies ſhe, a fine
little one: no ſaid I, a great wit: right faies ſhee, a great
groſſe one: nay ſaid I, a good wit: iuſt ſaid ſhe, it hurts
no body: nay ſaid I, the gentleman is wife: certain ſaid
ſhe, a wife gentleman: nay ſaid I, he hath the tongues:
that I beleuee ſaid ſhee, for hee ſwore a thing to me on
munday night, which he forſwore on tuesday morning:
there's a double tongue, there's two tongues: thus did
ſhee an howre together tranſ-shape thy particular ver-
tues, yet at laſt ſhe concluded with a ſigh, thou waſt the
prepraft man in Italie.

Claud. For the which ſhe wept heartily, and ſaid ſhee
car'd not.

Prin. Yea that ſhe did, but yet for all that, and if ſhee
did not hate him deadlie, ſhee would loue him dearely,
the old man's daughter told vs all.

Claus. All, all, and morcouer, God saw him when he
was hid in the garden.

Prin. But when shall we fet the ſauage Bulls hornes
on the ſensible Benedicke's head?

Ben. Yea and text vnder-neath, heere dwells Bene-
dicke the married man.

Ben. Fare you well, Boy, you know my minde, I will
leave you now to your goſſep-like humor, you breake
ieſts as braggards do their blades, which God be thank-
ed hurt not: my Lord, for your manie courtesies I thank
you, I muſt discontinue your companie, your brother
the Baſtard is ſled from Mefina: you haue among you,
kill'd a ſweet and innocent Ladie: for my Lord Lacke-
beard there he and I ſhall meete, and till then peace be
with him.

Prin. He is in earneſt.

Claus. In moſt profound earneſt, and Ile warrant you,
for the loue of Beatrice.

Prin. And hath challeſſ'd thee.

Claus. Moſt ſincerely.

Prin. What a prettie thing man is, when he goes in his
doublet and hofe, and leaves off his wir.

Enter Conſtable, Cowrade, and Barachio.

Claus. He is then a Giant to an Ape, but then is an Ape
a Doctor to ſuch a man.

Prin. But ſo you, let me be, plucke vp my heart, and
be ſad, did he not ſay my brother was ſled?

Conſt. Come you firſ, if iuſtice cannot tame you, ſhee
ſhall nere weigh more reaſons in her ballance, nay, and
you be a curſing hypocrite once, you muſt be lookt to.

Prin. How now, two of my brothers men bound? Ba-
rachio one.

Claus. Harken after their offence my Lord.

Prin. Officers, what offence haue these men done?

Con. Marrie

Much ado about Nothing.

119

Conſt. Marrie fir, they haue committed ſalſe report,
moreouer they haue ſpoken vnrutbs, ſecondarily they
are ſlanders, ſixt and laſtily, they haue belyed a Ladie,
thirdly, they haue verified vnſuall things, and to conclude
they are lying knaues.

Prin. First, I aske thee what they haue done, thirdlie I
aske thee what's their offence, ſixt and laſtlie why they
are committed, and to conclude, what you lay to their
charge.

Clau. Rightlie renſoned, and in his owne division, and
by my troth there's one meaning vvell ſured.

Prin. Who have you ouer ſold matters, that you are
thus bound to your anſwer, this learned Countable is too
cunning to be vnderſoild, what's your offence ?

Bor. Sweete Prince, let me goe no farther to mine anſwere : do you heare me, and let this Count kill mee : I haue deceived euen your verie eies : what your wifedomes could not discouer, there is no ſmall fooles haue brought to light, who in the night ouerheard me confessing to this man, how Don ſaue your brother incensed me to flander the Ladie Heres, how you were brought into the Orchard, and ſaw me coons Margaret in Heroes garments, how you difgreac'd her when you should marrie her : my villanie they haue upon record, which I had rather feale with my death, then repeat euer to my name : the Ladie is dead vpon mine and my maſters ſalſe accufation: and briefelyes, I defire nothing but the reward of a villanie.

Prin. Runs not this ſpeech like yron through your
cloud?

Clau. I haue drunke poſon whiles he vter'd it.

Prin. But did my Brother ſet thee on to this?

Bor. Yea, and paid me richly for the præſtife of it.

Prin. He is compos'd and fram'd of treacherie,
And fled he is vpon this villanie.

Clau. Sweet Heres, now thy image doth appeare
In the rare ſemblance that I lou'd it first.

Conſt. Come, bring away the plaintiſſes, by this time
our Sexton hath reſformed Signior Leonato of the matter:
and maſters, do not forget to ſpeciſe when time & place
ſhall ſerue, that I am an Aſſe.

Conz. Here, here comes maſter Signior Leonato, and
the Sexton too.

Enter Leonato.

Leon. Which is the villaine ? let me see his eies,
That when I note another man like him,
I may auoide him : vwhich of these is he ?

Bor. If you vwould know your wronger, looke on me.
Leon. Art thou thou the ſlaue, that with thy breath
haſt kild mine innocent childe ?

Bor. Yea, euen I alone.

Leo. No, not so villaine, thou belieſt thy ſelſe,
Here ſtand a paire of honourable men.

A third is fled that had a hand in it :

I thanke you Princes for my daughters death,
Record it with your high and worthie deeds,
I was bravely done, if you bethinke you of it.

Clau. I know not how to pray your patience,
Yet I muſt ſpeake, choose your reuenge your ſelſe,
Impoſe me to what penance your invention
Can lay vpon my ſonne, yet ſinn'd Loſt,
But in mitſaking.

Prin. By my ſoule not I,
And yet to latſiſe this good old man,

I would bend vnder anie heauie vvaight,
That heele enioyne me to.

Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter liue,

That were impoffible, but I prae you both,
poſſeſe the people in Mefina here,

How innocent she died, and if your loue

Can labour aught in ſad invention,

Hang her an epitaph vpon her toomb,

And fing it to her bones, fing it to night:

To morrow morning come you to my house,

And since you could not be my ſonne in law,

Be yet my Nephew : my brother hath a daughter,

Almost the copie of my childe that's dead,
And she alone is heire to both of vs,

Gine her the right you should haue giu'n her coms,
And so dies my reuence.

Clau. O noble fir !

Your ouerkindneſſe doth wring teares from me,

I do embrace your offer, and diuſpoe

For henceforth of poore Claudio.

Leon. To morrow then I will expect your comming,
To night I take my leaue, this naughtie man,

Shall face to face be brought to Margaret,

Who I beſeue was packt in all this wrong,

Hired to it by your brother.

Bor. No by my ſoule she was not,

Nor knew not what ſhe did when ſhe ſpoke to me,

But alwaies hath bin iuſt and vertuous,

In anie thing that I do know by her.

Conſt. Moreover fir, which indeede is not vnder white
and black, this plaintiſſe here, the offenſour did call mee
aſſe, I beſech you let it be remembered in his puniſha-
ment, and alſo the vwatch heard them talke of one Deſor-
med, they ſay he weares a keyin his eare and a lock hang-
ing by it, and borowes monie in Gods name, the which
he hatvs'd ſo long, and neuer paied, that now men grow
hard-harted and will ſend nothing for Gods ſake: prae
you examine him vpon that point.

Leon. I thank thee for thy care and honest paines.

Conſt. Your vvorſhip ſpeakes like a moſt thankefull
and reuerend youth, and I prae God for you.

Leon. There's for thy paines.

Conſt. God faue the foundation.

Leon. Goe, I diſcharge thee of thy prisoſer, and I
thanke thee.

Conſt. I leaue an arrant knaue vwith your vvorſhip,
which I beſech your worſhip to correct your ſelſe, for
the example of others: God keepe your vvorſhip, I
with your worſhip vvell, God reſtore you to healeth,
I humbly giue you leaue to depart, and if a mer-
rie meeting may be wiſht, God prohibiteth it : come
neighbour.

Leon. Vntill to morrow morning, Lords, farewell,

Exeunt.

Brot. Farewell my Lords, vve looke for you to mor-
row.

Prin. We will not faile.

Clau. To night ile SURNEUR with Hero.

Leon. Bring you theſe fellowes on, weel talke vwith
Margaret, how her acquaintance grew vwith this lewd
fellow.

Exeunt.

Enter Benedicke and Margaret.

Ben. Praie thee ſwecte Miftris Margaret, deferue
vvell at my hands, by helping mee to the ſpeech of Bea-
trice.

Mar. Will

Much adoe about Nothing.

120

Mar. Will you then write me a Sonnet in præife of
my beautit?

Bene. In so high a title Margaret, that no man living
shall come ouer it, for in most comely truth thou defer-
ueft it.

Mar. To haue no man come ouer me, why, shall Ial-
waies keepe below ftaires?

Bene. Thy wit is as quicke as the grey-hounds mouth,
it catches.

Mar. And yours, as blunt as the Fencers foiles, which
hit, but hurt not.

Bene. A moft manly wit Margaret, it will not hurt a
woman: and so I pray thee call Beatrice, I giue thee the
bucklers.

Mar. Giue vs the fwords, wee haue bucklers of our
owne.

Bene. If you vſe them Margaret, you muſt put in the
pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous weapons for
Maides.

Mar. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I thinke
hath legges. Exit Margarite.

Ben. And therefore will come. The God of loue that
fits aboue, and knowes me, and knowes me, how pitti-
ful I deferue. I meane in ſinging, but in louing, Lean-
der the good ſwimmer, Troilous the firſt imploier of
pandars, and a whole booke full of theſe quondam car-
pet-mongers, whose name yet runne ſmoothly in the e-
uen rode of a blanke verſe, why they were neuer ſo true-
ly turned ouer and ouer as my poore ſelfe in loue : mar-
rie I cannot ſhew it rime, I have tried, I can ſinde out no
rime to Ladie but babie, an innocent rime : for ſcorne,
horne, a hard time : for Ichoole fooler, a babling time:
verie ominous endings, no, I was not borne vnder a ri-
ming Plannet, for I cannot wooe in ſeſtialluall tearmes:
Enter Beatrice.

Sweete Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I call'd
thee?

Beat. Yea Signior, and depart when you bid me.

Bene. O stay but till then.

Beat. Then, is ſpoken: fare you well now, and yet ere
I goe, let me goe with that I came, which is, with know-
ing what hath pafft betweene you and Claudio.

Bene. Onely foule words, and thereupon I will kiffe
thee.

Beat. Foule words is but foule wind, and foule wind
is but foule breath, and foule breath is noisome, there-
fore I will depart vnkift.

Bene. Thou haſt frighted the word out of his right
fence, to forcible is thy wit, but I muſt tell thee plainely,
Claudio vndergoes my challenge, and either I muſt ſhort-
ly heare 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 loue with me?

Beat. For them all together, which maintain'd ſo
politique a ſtate of euill, that they will not admit any
good part to intermingle with them: but for which of
my good parts did you firſt suffer loue for me?

Bene. Suffer loue! a good epithite, I do suffer loue in-
deeſe, for I loue thee againſt my will.

Beat. In ſpight of your heart I think, alas poore heart,
if you ſpight it for my ſake, I will ſpight it for yours, for
I will neuer loue that which my friend hates.

Bened. Thou and I are too wife to wooe peaceable.

Bca. It appears not in this conſeſſion, there's not one
wife man among twentie that will præife himselfſe.

Bene. An old, an old instance Beatrice, that liu'd in
the time of good neighbours, if a man doe not ere in
this age his owne tombe ere he dies, hee shall liue no
longer in monuments, then the Bels ring, & the Widdow
weepes.

Beat. And how long is that thinke you?

Ben. Question, why an hower in clamour and a qua-
ter in thewme, therefore, is it moſt expedient for the wife,
if Don worne (his conſciencie) finde no impediment to
the contrarie, to be the trumpet of his owne vertues, as
I am to my ſelfe, ſo much for præſing my ſelfe, who I
ſelfe will beare witneſſe is præife worthie, and now tell
me, how doth your coſin ?

Beat. Verie ill.

Bene. And how doe you?

Beat. Verie ill too.

### Enter Ursula.

Bene. Serue God, loue me, and mend, there will I leaue
you too, for here comes one in haſte.

Vif. Madam, you muſt come to your Vncle, yon-
ders old coile at home, it is prooued my Ladie He-
ro hath bin falſelie accuſde, the Prince and Claudio
mightilie abuſde, and Don Iohn is the author of all, who
is ſled and gone: will you come preſenthe?

Beat. Will you go heare this newes Signior?

Bene. I will liue in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be bu-
ried in thy eies: and morcouer, I will goe with thee to
thy Vncles. Excmunt.

Enter Claudio, Prince, and three or foure with Tapers.

Clau. Is this the monument of Leonato?

Lord. It is my Lord. Epitaph.

Done to death by ſlanderous tongues,

Was the Hero that here lies :

Death in guerdon of her wrongs,

Gives her fame which neuer dies :

So the life that dyed with ſhame,

Lines in death with glorious fame.

Hang thou there upon the tombe,

Prating her when I am dombe.

Clau. Now muſick found & ſing your solemn hymn

### Song.

Pardon goddesſe of the night,

These that flew thy virgin knight,

For the which with ſongs of woe,

Round about her tombe they goe :

Midnight affift our move, beſpe us to ſigh and growl.

Heavily, heavily.

Graues yawne and yeelde your dead,

Till death be vtered,

Heavenuel, heauenuel.

(this right)

Lo. Now vnto thy bones good night, yeereely will I do

Prin. Good morrow mafers, put your Torches out,
The wolues haue preied, and looke, the gentle day
Before the wheeles of Phœbus, round about
Dapples the drowſe Eaſt with ſpots of grey:
Thanks to you all, and leaue vs, ſare you well.

Clau. Good morrow mafers, each his feuerall way.

Prin. Come let vs hence, and put on other weedes,
And then to Leonato's we will goe.

Clau. And Hymen now with luckier iſſue ſpeeds,

Then

Much adoe about Nothing.

121

Then this for whom we rendred vp this woe.
Excunt,
*Enter Leonato, Bene, Marg, Vrful, old man, Frier, Hero.*

Frier. Did I not tell you she was innocent?

Leo. So are the Prince and Claudio who accu'd her,
Vpon the errour, that you heard debar'd?

But Margaret was in some fault for this.

Although against her will as it appears,

In the true course of all the question.

Old. Well, I am glad that all things are for well.

Bene. And so am I, being eue by faith enforc'd

To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.

Leo. Well daughter, and you gentlewomen all,

Withdraw into a chamber by your felues,

And when I fend for you, come hither mask'd :

The Prince and Claudio promised by this howre.

To visit me, you know your office Brother,

You must be father to your brothers daughter,

And give her to young Claudio. Exeunt Ladis.

Old. Which I will do with confirm'd countenance.

Bene. Frier, I must inter your paines, I thinke,

Frier. To doe what Signior ?

Bene. To binde me, or vndoe me, one of them:

Signior Leonato, truth is good Signior,

Your neece regards me with an eye of fauour.

Leo. That eye my daughter lent her; his moft true.

Bene. And I do with an eye of loue require her.

Leo. The fight whereof I thinke you had from me,
From Claudio, and the Prince, but what's your will?

Bened. Your anwer fir is Enigmatiell,

But for my will, my will is, your good will

May stand with ours, this day to be conioy'd,

In the flate of honourable marriage,

In which(good Frier) I shall desire your helpe.

Leon. My heart is with your liking.

Frier. And my helpe

*Enter Prince and Claudio, with attendants.*

Prin. Good morrow to this faire assembly.

Prin. Good morrow Prince, good morrow Claudio:

We heree attend you, are you yet determin'd,
To day to marry with my brothers daughter?

Claud. Ile hold my minde were she an Ethiope.

Leo. Call her forth brother, heres the Frier ready.

Prin. Good morrow Benedike, why what's the matter?

That you haue such a February face,

So full of froſt, of ſtorme, and cloudlowneſe.

*Claud.* I thinke he thinkes vpon the sauge bull : Tuff, fear not man, we'll tip thy hornes with gold,
And all Europa shall reioyce at thee,

As once Europa did at lufty Louse,

When he would play the noble beaſt in loue.

Ben. Bull Louse fir, had an amiable low,

And some such strange bull leapt your fathers Cow,

A got a Calfe in that fame noble feat,

Much like to you, for you haue iſt his bleat.

*Enter brother, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, Vrfula.*

Cla. For this I owe you: here comes other recknings.
Which is the Lady I muſt feize vpon?

Leo. This fame is ſhe, and I doe giue you her.

Cla. Why then ſhe's mine, sweet let me fee your face.

Leon. No that you ſhal nor, till you take her hand,
Before this Frier, and weare to marry her.

Claud. Giue me your hand before this holy Frier,
I am your husband if you like of me.

Hero. And when I liu'd I was your other wife,

And when you lou'd, you were my other husband.

Claud. Another Hero?

Hero. Nothing certainer.

One Hero died, but I dolie,

And surely as I lie, I am a maid.

Prin. The former Hero, Hero that is dead.

Leoni, Shee died my Lord, but whiles her flander liu'd.

Frier. All this amazement can I qualify,

When after that the holy rites are ended,

He tell you largely of faire Heroes death:

Meanetime let wonder seeme familiar,

And to the chappell let vs presently.

Ben. Soft and faire Frier, which is Beatrice?

Beat. I anſwer to that name, what is your will?

Bene. Doe not you loue me?

Bear. Why no, no more then reaſon,

Bene. Why then your Uncle, and the Prince, & Claudio,
have beene deceiued, they ſware you did.

Bear. Doe not you loue me?

Bene. Troth no, no more then reaſon,

Bear. Why then my Cofin Margaret and Vrfula

Are much deceiued, for they did ſware you did.

Bene. They ſware you were almoſt ſicke for me.

Bear. They ſware you were wel-nye dead for me.

Bene. Tis no matter, then you doe not loue me?

Bear. No truly, but in friendly recompence.

Leon. Come Cofin, I am sure you loue the gentlema.

Cla. And Ile be wortne vpon't, that he loues her,
For here's a paper written in his hand,

A halting ſonnet of his owne pure braine,

Fashionedes Beatrice.

Hero. And heeres another,

Writ in my coſins hand, toſone from her pocket,

Containing her affection vnto Benedicke.

Bene. A miracle, here's our owne hands againſt our
hearts: come I will haue thee; but by this light I take
thoe for pittie.

Bear. I would not die you, but by this good day, I
yeeld vpon great perſuafion, & partly to ſaue your life,
for I was told, you were in a confusion.

Leon. Peace I will stop your mouth.

Prin. How doſt thou Benedicke the married man?

Bene. Ile tell thee what Prince: a College of witte-
crackers cannot flout mee out of my humour, doſt thou
think I care for a Satyre or an Epigram ? no, if a man will
be beaten by braines, a ſhal weare nothing handſome
about him : in briefe, ſince I do purpofe to marry, I will
thinke nothing to any purpofe that the world can ſay a-
gainſt it, and therefore neuer flout at me, for I haue ſaid
againſt it: for man is a giddy thing, and this is my con-
clusion: for thy part Claudio, I did thinke to haue beaten
thoe, but in that thou art like to be my kinfman, line vn-
bruis'd, and loue my coſin.

Cla. I had well hop'd you would haue denied Beatrice;
I might haue cudgell'd thee out of thy single life, to make
thoe a double dealer, which out of queſtio thou wilt be,
if my Cofin do not looke exceeding narrowly to thee.

Bene. Come, come, we are friends, let's haue a dance
ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts,
and our wines heeleſ.

Leon. Wee'll haue dancing afterward.

Bene. First, of my word, therfore play muſick. Prince,
thou art ad, get thee a vwife, get thee a vwife, there is no
flaſſ more reuerend then one tipt with horn. Enter. Mef.

Meffen. My Lord, your brother Johns is tane in flight,
And brought with armed men backe to Meflina.

Bene. Thunke not on him till to morrow, ile deuife
thoe braue puniſhments for him: ſtrike vp Pipers. Dance.

L

FINIS.

122

Loues Labour's loft.

*Actus primus.*

Enter Ferdinand King of Navarre, Berowne, Longauiu, and
Dumane.

Ferdinand.

Et Fame, that all hunt after in their liues,
Line regifted vpon our brazen Tombes,
And then grace vs in the difgrace of death:
when spight of cormorant devouring Time,
T'n'enjoyout of this preſent breath may buy:
That honour which shall bate his ſythes keene edge,
And make vs heyres of all eſternitie.

Therefore braue Conquerours, for so you are,
That warre againſt your owne affections,
And the huge Armie of the worlds defires.

Our late edict ſhall strongly ſtand in force,
Nanar ſhall be the wonder of the world.

Our Court ſhall be a little Achademe,
Still and contemplatiue in liuing Art.

You three, Berowne, Dumane, and Longauiu,
Haue ſworne for three yeeres terme, to liue with me:
My fellow Schollers, and to keepe those ſtatutes
That are recorded in this ſedule heere.

Your oathes are paſt, and now ſubſcribe your names:
That his owne hand may ſtrike his honour downe,

That violates the ſmallest branch heerein:
If you are arm'd to doe, as ſworne to do,

Subſcribe to your deepe oathes, and keepe it to:

Longauiu, I am reſolu'd, 'tis but a three yeeres ſaſt:
The minde ſhall banquet, though the body pine,
Fat paunches haue leane pates: and dainty bits,
Make rich the ribs, but bankerout the wits.

Dumane. My louing Lord, Dumane is mortified,
The groſſer manner of these worlds delights,
He throwes vpon the groſſe worlds baſer ſlaues:
To loue, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die,
With all these liuing in Philofophie.

Berowne, I can but ſay their proteſtation ouer,
So much, deare Liege. I haue already ſworne,
That is, to liue and ſtudy heere three yeeres.

But there are other ſtrict obſeruances:
As not to ſee a woman in that terme,

Which I hope well is not enrolled there.

And one day in a weeke to touch no foode:

And but one meale on every day before:

The which I hope is not enrolled there.

And then to ſleepe but three houres in the night,
And not be ſene to winke of all the day.

When I was wont to thinke no harme all night,
And make a darke night too of half the day:

O, theſe are barren taskes, too hard to keepe,
Not to ſee Ladies, ſtudy, ſaſt, not ſleepe.

Ferd. Your oath is paſt, to paſſe away from theſe.

Berowne. Let me ſay no my Liede, and if you pleafe,
I only ſwore to ſtudy with your grace,

And ſtay heere in your Court for three yeeres ſpace.

Longa. You ſwore to that Berowne, and to the self.

Berowne. By yea and nay fir, than I ſwore in ieſt.

What is the end of ſtudy, let me know?

Fer. Why that to know which eſſe wee ſhould not
know.

Ber. Things hid & bard (you meane) fit to common ſenſe.

Ferd. I, that is ſtudies god-like recompence.

Berowne. Come on then, I will ſware to ſtudie ſo,

To know the thing I am forbid to know:

As thus, to ſtudy where I well may dine,

When I to ſaſt expreſſely am ſ forbid.

Or ſtudie where to meet ſome Miftrefſe ſfine,

When Miftrefſes from common ſenſe are hiden.

Or hauing ſworne too hard a keeping oath,

Studie to breake it, and not breake my troth.

If ſtudies gaine be thus, and this be ſo,

Studie knowes that which yet it doth not know,

Sweare me to this, and I will nere ſay no.

Ferd. These be the flops that hinder ſtudie quite,
And traine our intelleſts to vaine delight.

Ber. Why? all delights are vaine, and that moſt vaine
Which with paine purchas'd, doth inherit paine,
As painefully to poare vpon a Booke,

To ſeeke the light of truth, while truth the while

Doth falſely blinde the eye: light of his looke:

I light ſeeking light, doth light of light beguile:

So ere you finde where light in darkeneſſe lies,

Your light growes darke by loſing of your eyes.

Studie me how to pleafe the eye indeede,

By fixing it vpon a fairer eye,

Who dazling ſo, that eye ſhall be his heed,

And glue him light that it was blinded by.

Studie is like the heauens glorious Sunne,

That will not be deepe ſeareh'd with ſawcy lookes:

Small haue continuall plodders euer wonne,

Saue bafe authoritie from others Bookes.

These eathly Godfathers of heauens lights,
That giue a name to euery fixed Starre,

Have no more profit of their ſhining nights,
Then thofe that walke and wot not what they are.

Too much to know, is to know nought but fame:

And euery Godfather can giue a name.

Fer. How well hee's read, to reaſon againſt reading.

Dum.

Loues Labour's loft.

123

Dum. Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding.

Lon. Hee weede the corner, and till lets grow the weeding.

Ber. The Spring is neare when greene geese are a breeding.

Dum. How followes that ?

Ber. Fit in his place and time.

Dum. In reason nothing.

Ber. Something then in rime.

Ferd. Berowne is like an enuious fneaping Frouſt,
That bites the firſt borne infants of the Spring.

Ber. Wel, ſay I am, why should proud Summer boate,
Before the Birds haue any cauſe to ſing ?

Why ſhould I ioy in any abortiue birth ?

At Christmas I no more defire a Rose,
Then with a Snow in Mayes new fangled flowes :
But like of each thing that in ſeason growes,

So you to ſtudie now it is too late,

That were to clymbe ore the houſe to unlocke the gate.

Ber. Well, ſit you out : go home Berowne ; adue.

Ber. No my good Lord, I haue ſworn to ſlay with you,
And though I haue for barbariſme ſpoke more,

Then for that Angell knowledge you can ſay,
Yet confident He keepe what I haue ſworne,
And bide the penance of each three yeares day.

Giue me the paper, let me reade the fame,

And to the ftrictſt decrees He write my name.

Ber. How well this yeelding refcues thee from ſhame.

Ber. Item. That no woman ſhall come within a mile of my Court.

Hath this bin proclaimed ?

Lon. Foure days ageo.

Ber. Let's fee the penaltie.

On paine of loofing her tongue.

Who deuis'd this penaltie?

Lon. Marry that did I.

Ber. Sweete Lord, and why?

Lon. To fright them hence with that dread penaltie,
A dangerous law against gentilitie.

Item, If any man be ſene to talke with a woman with-
in the tearme of three yeares, hee ſhall indure ſuch
publique ſhame as the reſt of the Court ſhall poſſibly
deuife.

Ber. This Article my Liedge your ſelfe muſt breake,
For well you know here comes in Embaſſie

The French Kings daughter, with your ſelfe to ſpeak :

A Maide of grace and complete maieſtie,

About surrender vp of Aquitaine :

To her decrepitrſicke, and bed-rid Father.

Therefore this Article is made in vaine,

Or vainly comes th'admired Princesſe hither.

Ber. What ſay you Lords?

Why, this was quite forgot.

Ber. So Studie euermore is ouerſhot.

While it doth ſtudy to haue what it would,

It doth forget to doe the thing it ſhould :

And when it hath the thing it hunteth moſt,

'Tis won as townes with fire, ſo won, ſo loft.

Ber. We muſt of force diſpence with this Decree,
She muſt lye here on meere neceſſitie.

Ber. Necessity will make vs all forſworne

Three thouſand times within this three yeeres ſpace :

For euery man with his affeets is borne,

Not by might maſſred, but by ſpeciall grace.

If I breake faith, this word ſhall breake for me,

I am forſworne on meere neceſſitie.

So to the Lawes at large I write my name,
And he that breakes them in the leaſt degree,
Stands in attainder of eternall ſhame.

Suggesions are to others as to me :

But I beleeue although I ſeeme ſo loth,

I am the laſt that will laſt keepe his oth.

But is there no quicke recreation granted?

Fer. I that there is, our Court you know is hanted
With a refined trauailer of Spaine,

A man in all the worlds new fashion planted,

That hath a mint of phraſes in his braine :

One, who the muſicke of his owne vaine tongue,

Doth rauiſh like inchanting harmonie :

A man of complements whom right and wrong

Haue choſe as vmpire of their mutinie.

This childe of fancie that Armado hight,

For interim to our ſtudies ſhall relate,

In high-borne words the worth of many a Knight :

From tawnie Spaine loft in the worlds debate,

How you delight my Lords, I know not I,

But I proteſt I loue to heare him lie,

And I will vſe him for my Minſtreflie.

Bero. Armado is a moſt illuſtrious wight,

A man of fire, new words, fashions owne Knight.

Lon. Coſtard the ſwaine and he, ſhall be our ſport,

And so to ſtudie, three yeeres is but ſhort.

Enter a Conſtable with Coſtard with a Letter.

Conſt. Which is the Dukes owne perſon.

Ber. This fellow, What would it ?

Con. I my ſelfe reprecheth his owne perſon, for I am
his graces Tharborough: But I would see his own perſon
in ſlesh and blood.

Ber. This is he.

Con. Signeor Arme, Arme commends you :

Ther's villanie abroad, this letter will tell you more.

Clo. Sir the Contempts thereof are as touching
mee.

Ber. A letter from the magnificent Armado.

Ber. How low ſoever the matter, I hope in God for
high words.

Lon. A high hope for a low heauen, God grant vs pa-
tience.

Ber. To heare, or forbeare hearing.

Lon. To heare meekely fir, and to laugh moderately,
or to forbeare both.

Ber. Well fir, be it as the ſtyle ſhall giue vs cauſe to
clime in the merrineſſe.

Clo. The matter is to me fir, as concerning Laquenetta.
The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner.

Ber. In what manner ?

Clo. In manner and forme following fir all theſe three.
I was ſene with her in the Mannor house, fitting with
her upon the Forme, and taken following her into the
Parke: which put to gether, is in manner and forme
following. Now fir for the manner; It is the manner
of a man to ſpeak to a woman, for the forme in ſome
forme.

Ber. For the following fir.

Clo. As it ſhall follow in my correction, and God de-
fend the right.

Ber. Will you heare this Letter with attention ?

Ber. As we would heare an Oracle.

Clo. Such is the ſimplicitie of man to harken after the
ſlesh.

L 2

Fer. Great

All's Well that ends Well.

232

Get thee a good husband, and vſe him as he vſes thee:
So farewell.

Hel. Our remedies oft in our ſelues do lye,
Which we aſcribe to heauen : the fated skye
Giuſes vs free ſcope, onely doth backward pull:
Our flowe defignes, when we our ſelues are dull.
What power is it, which mounts my loue ſo hye,
That makes me ſee, and cannot feede mine eye?
The mightieſt ſpace in fortune, Nature brings
To ioyne like, likes ; and kiffle like natüe things,
Impoſsible be ſtrange attempts to thofe
That weigh their paines in ſence, and do ſuppoſe
What hath beene, cannot be. Who cuer ſtroue
To ſhew her merit, that did miſſe her loue?
(The Kings diſeafe) my proiſt may deſeiue me,
But my intents are fixt, and will not leaue me.

Exit

Flourish Cornets.
Enter the King of France with Letters, and
 diners Attendants.

King. The Florentines and Senoys are by th'eares,
Hae fought with equall fortune, and continue
A brauing warre.

1. Lo. G. So this reported ſir.

King. Nay this moſt credible, we heere receiue it,
A certaintie vouch'd from our Cofin Auftria,
With caution, that the Florentine will moue vs
For ſpeedie ayde: wherein our decreſt friend
Prejudicates the buſineſſe, and would ſeeme
To haue vs make denial.

1. Lo. G. His loue and wifedome
Approu'd so to your Maietty, may pleade
For amplect credence.

King. He hath arm'd our anſwer,
And Florence is deni'de before he comes :
Yet for our Gentlemen that meane to ſee
The Tſuſean ſeruice, freely haue they leaue
To ſtand on either part.

2. Lo. E. It well may ſerue
A nurſerie to our Gentrie, who are ſicke
For breathing, and exploit.

King. What's he comes heere.

Enter Bertram, Lafew, and Parolles.

1. Lor. G. It is the Count Rofignoll my good Lord,
Yong Bertram.

King. Youth, thou bear'st thy Fathers face,
Franke Nature rather curious then in haſt
Hath well compos'd thee : Thy Fathers morall parts
Maſt thou inherit too : Welcome to Paris.

Ber. My thankes and dutie are your Maieties.

Kin. I would I had that corporall foundneſſe now,
As when thy father, and my ſelfe, in friendſhip
Firſt tride our ſouldiership : he did looke farre
Into the ſeruice of the time, and was
Difcipleſt of the braueſt. He laſted long,
But on vs both did haggifh Age ſteale on,
And wore vs out of act : It much repaires me,
To talke of your good father; in his youth
He had the wit, which I can well obſerue
To day in our yong Lords : but they may ieſt
Till their owne ſcorne returne to them vnnoted
Ere they can hide their leuitie in honour :
So like a Courtier, contempt nor bitterneſſe

Were in his pride, or ſharpeſſe ; if they were,
His equall had awak'd them, and his honour
Clocke to it ſelfe, knew the true minute when
Exception bid him ſpeake : and at this time
His tongue obey'd his hand. Who were below him,
He vs'd as creatures of another place,
Aud bow'd his eminent top to their low rankes,
Making them proud of his humilitie,
In their poore praeſe he humbled : Such a man
Might be a copie to theſe yonger times ;
Which followed well, would demonstrate them now
But goers backward.

Ber. His good remembrance fir
Lies richer in your thoughts, then on his tombe:
So in approove liues not his Epitaph,
As in your roall ſpeech.

King. Would I were with him he would alwaies ſay,
(Me thinkes I heare him now) his plaſuie words
He ſcatter'd not in eares, but grafted them
To grow there and to beare : Let me not liue,
This his good melancholly oft began
On the Cataſtrophe and heele of paſtime
When it was out : Let me not liue (quoth hee)
After my flame lacke's oyle, to be the ſnuffe
Of yonger ſpirits, whose apprehenſiue ſenſes
All but new things diſdaine ; whose iudgements are
Meere fathers of their garments : whose couſtances
Expire before their ſaſhions : this he wifh'd.
I after him, do after him wifh too :
Since I nor wax nor honie can bring home,
I quickly were diſſolued from my hue
To giue ſome Labourers roome.

L. 2. E. You'r loued Sir,

They that leaſt lend it you, I'll lacke you firſt.

Kin. I fill a place I know't: how long iſt Count
Since the Phyſician at your fathers died ?
He was much fam'd.

Ber. Some ſix moneths ſince my Lord.

Kin. If he were liuing, I would try him yet.
Lend me an arne: the reſt haue worne me out
With ſeuerall applications : Nature and ſickneſſe
Debate it at their leiſure. Welcome Count,
My ſonne's no deerer.

Ber. Thanke your Maietty.

Exit

Flourish.

Enter Counteſſe, Steward, and Clowne.

Conn. I will now heare, what ſay you of this gentlewoman.

Ste. Maddam the care I haue had to euen your content, I wifh might be found in the Kalender of my paſt endeouurs, for then we wound our Modeſtie, and make foule the clearneſſe of our deferuings, whenof our ſelues we publish them.

Conn. What doe's this knaue heere? Get you gone
firra: the complaints I haue heard of you I do not ali be-
leeue, 'tis my flowneſſe that I doe not: For I know you
lacke not folly to commit them, & haue abilitie enough
to make ſuch knaueries yours.

Clo. 'Tis not vnknown to you Madam, I am a poore
fellow.

Conn. Well fir.

Clo. No maddam,

'Tis not so well that I am poore; though manie

All's Well that ends Well.

233

of the rich are damn'd, but if I may haue your Ladiships
good will to goe to the world, I haue the woma and w
will doe as we may.

Cou. Wilt thou needes be a begger?

Clo. I doe beg your good will in this cafe.

Cou. In what cafe?

Clo. In Isbels cafe and mine owne: seruice is no heritage, and I thinke I shall neuer haue the bleffing of God, till I have illeue a my bodie: for they say barnes are bleffings.

Cou. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marrie?

Clo. My poore bodie Madam requires it, I am driven
only the flesh, and hee must needes goe that the diuell
drives.

Cou. Is this all your worships reason?

Clo. Faith Madam I haue other holie reafons, such as
they are.

Cou. May the world know them?

Clo. I haue beene Madam a wicked creature, as you
and all flesh and blood are, and indeede I doe marrie that
I may repent.

Cou. Thy marriage sooner then thy wickedneſſe.

Clo. I am out a friends Madam, and I hope to haue
friends for my wines ſake.

Cou. Such friends are thine enemies knaue.

Clo. Y'are shallow Madam in great friends, for the
knaues come to do that for me which I am a wearie of:
he that eres my Land, ſpares my teame, and giues mee
leaue to Inne the crop: if I be his crackold hee's my
drudge; he that comforts my wife, is the cheriſher of
my flesh and blood; hee that cheriſhes my flesh and
blood, loues my flesh and blood; he that loues my flesh
and blood is my friend; ergo, he that kiffes my wife is my
friend: if men could be contented to be what they are,
there were no ſea in marriage, for yong Charbon the
Puritan, and old Perſam the Papift, how ſomere their
hearts are ſeuer'd in Religion, their heads are both one,
they may ioule horns together like any Deare i'th Herd.

Cou. Wilt thou euer be a foule mouth'd and calum-
nious knaue?

Clo. A Prophet I Madam, and I ſpeake the truth the
next waie, for I the Ballad will repeate, which men full
true ſhall finde, your marriage comes by deſtinie, your
Cuckow ſings by kinde.

Cou. Get you gone fir, Ile talke with you more anon.

Stew. May it pleaſe you Madam, that hee bid Hellen
come to you, of her I am to ſpeake.

Cou. Sirra tell my gentlewoman I would ſpeake with her, Hellen I meane.

Clo. Was this faire face the cauſe, quoth ſhe,
Why the Grecians facked Troy,
Fond done, done, fond was this King Priams ioy,
With that ſhe fighed as ſhe ſtood, bis
And gaue this ſentence then, among nine bad if one be
good, among nine bad if one be good, there's yet one
good in ten.

Cou. What, one good in tenne? you corrupt the ſong
firra,

Clo. One good woman in ten Madam, which is a pur-
rifying ath'ong: would God would ſerue the world to
all the yeere, weed ſinde no ſault, with the tithe woman
if I were the Parfon, one in ten quoth a, and wee might
have a good woman borne but oreuerie blazing ſtare,
or at an earthquake, t'would mend the Lotteriewell, a
man may draw his heart out ere a plucke one.

Cou. Youle begone fir knaue, and doe as I command
you?

Clo. That man should be at woman's command, and
yet no hurt done, though honestie be no Puritan, yet
it will doe no hurt, it will weare the Surplis of humilitie
ouer the blacke-Gowne of a bigge heart: I am go-
ing forfooth, the businesſe is for Helen to come hither.

Cou. Well now.

Stew. I know Madam you loue your Gentlewoman
intirely.

Cou. Faith I doe: her Father bequeath'd her to mee,
and ſhe her ſelfe without other aduantage, may lawſul-
lie make title to as much loue as ſhee findes, there is
more owing her then is paid, and more shall be paid
her then ſheele demand.

Stew. Madam, I was verie late more neere her then
I thinke ſhee wifht mee', alone ſhee was, and did
communicate to her ſelfe her owne words to her
owne cares, ſheethought, I dare vowe for her, they
toucht not anie ſtranger ſence, her matter was, ſhee
loued your Sonne; Fortune ſhe Said was no god-
deffe, that had put ſuch difference betwixt their two
eſtates: Loue no god, that would not extend his might
onelie, where qualities were leuell, Queene of Vir-
gins, that would ſuffer her poore Knight ſurpris'd
without ſeue in the firſt aſſault or ransome after-
ward: This ſhee deliuer'd in the moſt bitter touch of
forrow that ere I heard Virgin exclaime in, which I held
my dutye ſpeedily to acquaint you withall, ſithence in
the loffe that may happen, it concernes you ſomething
to know it.

Cou. You haue diſcharg'd this honestlie, keepe it
to your ſelfe, manie likelihoods inform'd mee of this
before, which hung ſo fortirring in the ballance, that
I could neither beleeeue nor miſdoubt: prae you
leaue mee, ſtall this in your boſome, and I thanke
you for your honest care: I will ſpeake with you fur-
ther anon.

Exit Steward.

Enter Hellen.

Old. Cou. Even so it vvas vvith me when I was yong:
If euer we are natures, theſe are ours, this thorne
Dorth to our Rose of youth rightlie belong.
Our blood to vs, this to our blood is borne,
It is the flow, and ſeale of natures truth,
Where loues ſtrong paſſion is impreſt in youth,
By our remembrances of daies forgon,
Such were our ſaults, or then we thought them none,
Her eie is ſicke on't, I obſerue her now.

Hell. What is your pleaſure Madam ?

Ol. Cou. You know Hellen I am a mother to you.

Hell. Mine honorable Miftris.

Ol. Cou. Nay a mother, why not a mother? when I
fed a mother

Me thought 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 thofe
That were enwombed mine, 'tis often ſeele
Adoption ſtrues vvith nature, and choife ſreede
A native flip to vs from forraine ſeedes:
You were oppreſſe me with a mothers groane,
Yet I expreſſe to you a mothers care,
(Gods mercieoman) dos it curd thy blood
To ſay I am thy mother? what's the matter,
That this diſtempered meſſenger of wet?

V 3

The

All's Well that ends Well.

234

The manie colour'd Iris rounds thine eye?

Why, that you are my daughter?

Hell. That I am not.

Old.Cou. I say, I am your Mother.

Hell. Pardon Madam.

The Count Refillion cannot be my brother :

I am from humble, he from honored name :

No note vpon my Parents, his all noble,

My Mafter, my deere Lord he is, and I

His seruant liue, and will his vassall die :

He muft not be my brother.

Old.Cou. Nor I your Mother.

Hell. You are my mother Madam, would you were
So that my Lord your Sonne were not my brother,
Indeed my mother, or were you both our mothers,

I care no more for, then I doe for heauen,
So I were not his fitter, cant no other,

But I your daughter, he muſt be my brother.

Old.Cou. Yes Hellen, you might be my daughter in law,

God hield you meane it not, daughter and mother

So ſtrive vpon your pulſe ; what pale agen ?

My ſcare hath caught your fondneſſe ! now I ſee

The miſtrie of your louelouſe, and finde

Your ſalt teares head, now to all ſence 'tis groſſe :

You loue my ſonne, invention is aſham'd

A gainſt the proclamation of thy paffion

To ſay thou dooff not : therefore tell me true,

But tell me then 'tis so, for looke, thy cheekes

Conſeſſe it 'ton tooth to th'other, and thine cies

See it ſo groſely ſhowne in thy behaulours,

That in their kinde they ſpeake it, onely ſinne

A nd helliſh obſtinacie ye thy tongue

That truth ſhould be ſuſpected, ſpeake, iſt ſo ?

If it be ſo, you haue wound a goodly clew :

If it be not, forſweare't how ere I charge thee,

As heauen ſhall worke in me for thine auaile

To tell me truelie.

Hell. Good Madam pardon me,

Cou. Do you loue my ſonne?

Hell. Your pardon noble Miftris.

Cou. Loue you my ſonne?

Hell. Doe not you loue him Madam?

Cou. Go not about; my loue hath in't a bond

Whereof the world takes note : Come, come, diſcloſe :

The ſtate of your affection, for your paffions

Haue to the full approach'd.

Hell. Then I confefſſe

Here on my knee, before high heauen and you,

That before you, and next vnto high heauen, I loue your
Sonne :

My friends were poore but honest, ſo's my loue :

Be not offended, for it hurts not him

That he is lou'd of me ; I follow him not

By any token of prefumptuous ſuite,

Nor would I hane him, till I doe deferue him,

Yet neuer know how that defert should be :

I know I loue in vaine, ſtrive againſt hope :

Yet in this captious, and internible ſiue,

I fill poure in the waters of my loue

And lacke not to looke ſtill; thus Indian like

Religious in mine error, I adore

The Sunne that lookes vpon his worſhipper,

But knowes of him no more. My deereft Madam,

Let not your hate encounter with my loue,

For louing where you doe ; but if your ſelfe,

Whose aged honor cites a vertuous youth,

Did euer, in so true a flame of likings,

Wife chaſtly, and loue dearely, that your Dian

Was both her ſelfe and loue, O then giue pittie

To her whose ſtate is ſuch, that cannot choose

But lend and giue where ſhe is ſure to loose ;

That feekes not to finde that, her ſearch implies,

But riddle like, liues ſweetly where ſhe dies.

Cou. Had you not lately an intent, ſpeake truly,
To goe to Paru?

Hell. Madam I had.

Cou. Wherefore tell true.

Hell. I will tell truth, by grace it ſelfe I ſweare:

You know my Father left me ſome preſcriptions

Of rare and prou'd effects, ſuch as his reading

And manifeſt experience, had collected

For generall ſoueraightie : and that he wil'd me.

In heedfull ſt reſeruation to beſtow them,

As notes, whose faculties incluſiue were,

More then they were in note: Amongst the reſt,

There is a remedie, approu'd, ſet downe,

To cure the desperate languifhings whereof

The King is render'd loſt.

Cou. This was your motiue for Paris, was it, ſpeake?

Hell. My Lord, your ſonne, made me to think of this;
Elſe Paris, and the medicine, and the King,
Had from the conuerſation of my thoughts,
Happily beene absent then.

Cou. But thinke you Hellen,

If you should tender your ſuppofed aide,

He would receiue it ? He and his Phifitions

Are of a minde, he, that they cannot helpe him :

They, that they cannot helpe, how ſhall they credit

A poore vnlearned Virgin, when the Schooles

Embowel'd of their doctrine, haue left off

The danger to it ſelfe.

Hell. There's ſomething in't

More then my Father's skill, which was the great ſt

Of his poffeffion, that his good receipt,

Shall for my legacie be ſanctified

Byt' luckieſt stars in heauen, and would your honor

But giue me leaue to trie ſucceſſe, I'd venture

The well loſt life of mine, on his Graces cure,

By ſuch a day, an houre.

Cou. Doo't thou beleeue't ?

Hell. I Madam knowingly.

Cou. Why Hellen thou ſhalt haue my leaue and loue,
Meanes and attendants, and my louing greetings
To the ſtate of mine in Court, Ile ſtate at home
And praie Gods bleſſing into thy attempt :
Begon to morrow, and be ſure of this,
What I can helpe thee to, thou ſhalt not miſſe.

Evenest.

## Actus Secundus.

Enter the King with diuers yong Lords, taking leaue for
the Florentine warre : Count, Roffe, and
Parrolles. Florish Cornets.

King. Farewell yong Lords, theſe warlike principles
Doe not throw from you, and you my Lords farewell :
Share the aduice betwixt you, if both gaine, all
The guifth doth stretch it ſelfe as 'tis receiued,
And is enough for both.

Lord.G. 'Tis our hope fir,

After

All's Well, that Ends Well.

235

After well entred, fouldiers, to retarne
And finde your grace in health.

King. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart

Will not confesse he owes the mallady

That doth my life befiege : farwell yong Lords,

Whether I lue or die, be you the fonnes

Of worthy French men : lechigher Italy
(Thofe bated that inherit but the fall

Of the laft Monarchy) fee that you come

Not to wooe honour, but to wed it, when

The braueft quætant shrinkes: finde what you fecke,
That fame may cry you loud: I fay farewell.

L.G. Health at your bidding ſerue your Maieſtyle,

King. Those girles of Italy, take heed of them,

They ſay our French, lacke language to deny

If they demand: beware of being Captiues

Before you ſerue.

Bo. Our hearts receiue your warnings!

King. Farewell, come hether to me.

1. Lo. G. Oh my ſweet Lord, y you will ſtay behind vs.

Parr. 'Tis not my fault the ſpark.

2. Lo. E. Oh'th' braue warres.

Parr. Most admirable, I haue ſene thofe warres.

Roffill. I am commanded here, and kept a coyle with,
Too young, and the next yeere, and 'tis too early.

Parr. And thy minde ſtand too't boy,
ſteale away braue.

Roffill. I ſhal lay here the for-horse to a smocke,
Creeking my ſnooes on the plaine Masonry,

Till honour be bought vp, and no ſword worne

But one to dance with: by heauen, Ile ſteale away.

1. Lo. G. There's honour in the theft.

Parr. Commit it Count.

2. Lo. E. I am your acceſſary, and ſo farewell.

Ref. I grow to you, & our parting is a tortur'd body.

1. Lo. G. Farewell Captaine.

2. Lo. E. Sweet Mounſier Parolles.

Parr. Noble Heroes; my ſword and yours are kinne,
good ſparkes and luftrous, a word good metALS. You
I shall finde in the Regiment of the Spinij, one Captaine
Spuris his ficatrice, with an Embleme of warre heere on
his finifter cheese; it was this very ſword entrench'd it:
ſay to him I lue, and obſerue his reports for me.

Lo. G. We shall noble Captaine.

Parr. Mars doate on you for his nouicés, what will ye doe?

Roff. Stay the King.

Parr. Vie a more ſpacious ceremonie to the Noble
Lords, you haue reſtrain'd your ſelfe within the Lift of
too cold an adieu: be more expresſive to them; for they
weare themifelues in the cap of the time, there do muſer
true gate; ear, ſpeake, and moue vnder the influence of
the moſt recei'd ſtatre, and though the deuill lead the
meaſure, ſuch are to be followed: after them, and take a
more dilated farewell.

Roff. And I will doe so.

Parr. Worthy ſellowes, and like to probeue moſt fin-
newie ſword-men.

Enter Laſe.

L. Laf. Pardon my Lord for mee and for my tidings.

King. Ile fee thee to stand vp. (pardon,

L. Laf. Then here's a man stands that has brought his
I would you had kneel'd my Lord to aske me mercy,
And that at my bidding you could ſtand vp.

King. I would I had, so I had broke thy pate

And askt thee mercy for't.

Laf. Goodſaith a-croſe, but my good Lord 'tis this.
Will you be cur'd of your inſirmitie?

King. No.

Laf. O will you eat no grapes my royall ſoxe?

Yes but you will, my noble grapes, and if

My royall ſoxe could reach them: I haue ſeen a medicine
That's able to breath life into a ſtone,

Quicken a rocke, and make you dance Canari

With ſprightly fire and motion, whose ſimple touch

Is powerfull to arayſe King Tippen, nay

To give great *Charlemaine* a pen in's hand

And write to her a loue-line.

King. What her is this?

Laf. Why doctor ſhe: my Lord, there's one arriu'd,
If you will ſee her: now by my faith and honour,

If feriously I may conuay my thoughts

In this my light deluuerance, I haue ſpoke

With one, that in her ſexe, her yeeres, proſeffion,

Wifedome and conſtancy, hath amaz'd mee more

Then I dare blame my weakeneſſe: will you ſee her ?

For that is her demand, and know her buſineſſe?

That done, laugh well at me.

King. Now good Laſew,

Bring in the admiration, that we with thee

May ſpend our wonder too, or take off thine

By wondring how thou tookſt it.

Laf. Nay, Ile ſit you,

And not be all day neither.

King. Thus he his ſpeciall nothing euer prologues.

Laf. Nay, come your waies.

Enter Hellen.

King. This haſte hath wings indeed.

Laf. Nay, come your waies,

This is his Maieſtie, lay your minde to him,

A Traitor you doe looke like, but ſuch traitors

His Maieſty ſeldome feares; I am Crefſeds Vncle,

That dare leaue two together, far you well.

Exit.

King. Now faire one, do's your buſines follow vs?

Hel. I my good Lord,

Gerard de Narbon was my father,

In what he did proſeſe, well found.

King. I knew him.

Hel. The rather will I ſpare my praſes towards him,
Knowing him is enough: on's bed of death,
Many receits he gaue me, chieſſe one,

Which as the deareſt illuſe of his practice

And of his olde experience, th'onlie darling,

He bad me ſtore vp, as a triple eye,

Safer then mine owne two: more deare I haue ſo,

And hearing your high Maieſtie is toucht

With that malignant caufe, wherein the honour
Of my deare fathers gift, stands cheeſe in power,

I come to tender it, and my appliance,

With all bound humbleneſſe.

King. We thanke you maiden,

But may not be ſo credulous of cure,

When our moſt learned Doctors leaue vs, and

The congregated Colledge haue concluded,

That labouring Art can neuer ranſome nature

From her inaydible eſtate : I ſay we muſt not

So ſtaine our iudgement, or corrupt our hope,

To profiture our paſt-cure malladie

To empericks, or to diſſeuer ſo

Our great ſelfe and our credit, to eſteeme

A ſenceleſſe helpe, when helpe paſt fence we deeme.

Hel. My

All's Well that ends Well.

236

Hell. My duty then shall pay me for my paines:
I will no more enforce mine office on you,
Humbly intreating from your royall thoughts,
A modest one to beare me backe againe.

King. I cannot give thee lesse to be cal'd gratefull:
Thou thoughtst to helpe me, and such thanks I give,
As one neere death to thofe that with him liue:
But what at full I know, thou knowst no part,
I knowing all my perill, thou no Art.

Exell. What I can doe, can doe no hurt to try,
Since you fet vp your reft, gainst remedie:
He that of greatest workes is finisher.
Oft does them by the weakeft minifter:
So holy Writ, in babes hath judgement showne,
When Iudges have bin babes; great clouds haue flowne
From simple sources: and great Seas haue dried
When Miracles haue by the great't beene denied.
Oft expectation failes, and moft oft there
Where moft it promifes: and oft it hits,
Where hope is coldeft, and despaire moft shifts.

King. I muft not heare thee, fare thee wel kind maide,
Thy paines not vs'd, muft by thy selfe be paid,
Proffers not tooke, reape thanks for their reward.

Hel. Infired Merit so by breath is bard,
It is not so with him that all things knowes
As'tis with vs, that square our gueffe by showes:
But moft it is prefulption in vs, when
The help of heauen we count the act of men.
Deare fir, to my endeauors giue consent,
Of heauen, not me, make an experiment.
I am not an Impoſtrue, that proclaime,
My ſelfe againſt the leuill of mine aime,
But know I thinke, and thinke I know moſt ſure,
My Art is not paſt power, nor you paſt cure.

King. Art thou so confident? Within what ſpace
Hop't thou my cure?

Hel. The greatest grace lending grace,
Ere twice the horſes of the ſunne shall bring
Their fieri ſtorcher his diurnall ring,
Ere twice in murke and occidentall dampe
Moſt Heſſerius haſt quench'd her ſleepy Lampe:
Or ſoure and twenty times the Pylors glaſſe
Hath told the theeuil ſh minutes, how they paffe:
What is inſirme, from your ſound parts ſhall ſlie,
Health ſhall liue free, and ſickeneſſe freely dye.

King. Upon thy certainty and confidence,
What dar't thou venter?

Hell. Taxe of impudence,
A ſtrumpets boldneſſe, a divulged ſhame
Traduc'd by odious ballads: my maidens name,
Seard otherwife, ne worſe of worſt extended.
With vildeſt torture, let my life be ended.

Kin. Methinks in thee some bleſſed ſpirit doth ſpeak
His powerfull ſound, within an organ weake:
And what impoſſibility would ſlay
In common ſence, ſence ſaues another way:
Thy life is deere, for all that life can rate.

Thy life is deere, for all that life can rate.
Worth name of life, in thee hath eſtimate:
Youth, beauty, wifedome, courage, all
That happines and prime, can happy call:
Thou this to hazard, needs muſt intimate
Skill infinite, or monſtrous desperate,

Youth, beauty, wifedome, courage, all
That happines and prime, can happy call:
Thou this to hazard, needs muſt intimate
Skill infinite, or monſtrous desperate,
Sweet praſtifter, thy Phyſicke I will try,
That minifters thine owne death if I die.

Hel. If I breake time, or flinch in property
Of what I spoke, vnpitied let me die,

And well deferu'd: not helping, death's my fee,
But if I helpe, what doe you promife me.

Kin. Make thy demand.

Hel. But will you make it euen?

Kin. I by my Scepter, and my hopes of helpe.

Hel. 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 royall cloud of France,
My low and humble name to propagate
With any branch or image of thy state:
But ſuch a one thy vafall, whom I know
Is free for me to aske, thee to beſtow.

Kin. Heere is my hand, the premifes obferu'd,
Thy will by my performance shall be ſeru'd:
So make the choice of thy owne time, for I
Thy reſolv'd Patient, on thee ſtill relye:
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
Vnqueſtion'd welcome, and vndeemed bleſt.
Give me some helpe heere hœa, if thou proceed,
As high as word, my deed shall match thy deed.

Florist.

Exit.

Enter Countesse and Clowne.

Lady. Come on fir, I ſhall now put you to the height
of your breeding.

Clowne. I will ſhow my ſelfe highly fed, and lowly
taught, I know my busineſſe is but to the Court.

Lady. To the Court, why what place make you ſpe-
ciall, when you put off that with ſuch contempt, but to
the Court?

Clo. Truly Madam, if God haue lent a man any man-
ners, hee may eafilie put it off at Court: hee that cannot
make a legge, put off't cap, kiffie his hand, and ſay no-
thing, has neither legge, hands, lippe, nor cap; and in-
deed ſuch a fellow, to ſay precifely, were not for the
Court, But for me, I haue an anſwere will ſerue all men.

Lady. Marry that's a bountifull anſwere that fits all queſtions.

Clo. It is like a Barbers chaire that fits all buttockes,
the pin buttocke, the quatch-buttocke, the brawn bur-
tocke, or any buttocke.

Lady. Will your anſwere ſerue fit to all queſtions?

Clo. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an Attur-
ney, as your French Crowne for your taffety punke, 25
Tibs ruff for Tom's fore-finger, as a pancake for Shrou-
tuesday, a Morris for May-day, as the naile to his hole,
the Cuckold to his horne, as a ſcolding quære to a
wrangling knaue, as the Nuns lip to the Friers mouth,
nay as the pudding to his skin.

Lady. Haue you, I ſay, an anſwere of ſuch fitneſſe for all queſtions?

Clo. From below your Duke, to beneath your Con-
ſtable, it will fit any queſtion.

Lady. It muſt be an anſwere of moſt monſtrous ſize,
that muſt fit all demands.

Clo. But a trifle neither in good faith, if the learned
should ſpeake truth of it: heere it is, and all that belongs
to't. Aske mee if I am a Courtier, it shall doe you no
harme to leane.

Lady. To be young againe if we could: I will bee a
foole in queſtion, hoping to bee the wiser by your an-
swer.

Lady.

All's Well that ends Well.

237

La. I pray you fir, are you a Courtier?

Clo. O Lord fir thes a fimpie putting off : more,
more, a hundred of them.

La. Sir I am a poorer friend of yours, that loues you.

O Lord fir, thicke, thicke, spare not me.

La. I thinke fir you can eat none of this homely meate.

Clo. O Lord fir, may put me too't, I warrant you.

La. You were lately whipt fir as I thinke.

Clo. O Lord fir, spare not me.

La. Doc your crie O Lord fir at your whipping, and
spare not me? Indeed your O Lord fir, is very frequent
to your whipping : you would answere very well to a
whipping if you were but bound too't.

Clo. I nere had worfe lucke in my life in my O Lord
fir: I fee things may ferue long, but not ferue euer.

La. I play the noble hufwive with the time, to enter-
taine it so merrily with a foole.

Clo. O Lord fir, why there'th ferues well agen.

La. And end fir to your busineſſe: give Hellen this,
and vge her to a prefent anſwer backe,
Commend me to my kinfmen, and my ſonne,
This is not much.

Clo. Not much commendation to them.

La. Not much employment for you, you vnder-
fland me.

Clo. Moſt fruitfully, I am there, before my legegs.

La. Haſt you agen.

Exeunt

Enter Count, Lafew, and Paroller.

Ol. Laf. They ſay miracles are paſt, and we haue our
Philofophicall perſons, to make moderne and familiar
things supernaturall and cauſeſſe. Hence is it, that we
make trifles of terours, enſconcing our ſelues into ſee-
ming knowledge, when we should submit our ſelues to
an vnknowne ſeare.

Par. Why 'tis the rareſt argument of wonder, that
hath ſhot out in our latter times.

Ref. And ſo 'tis.

Ol. Laf. To be relinquifh't of the Artiſts.

Par. So I ſay both of Galen and Paracelsus.

Ol. Laf. Of all the learned and authenticke fellowes.

Par. Right ſo I ſay.

Ol. Laf. That gaue him out incurable.

Par. Why there 'tis, ſo ſay I too.

Ol. Laf. Not to be help'd.

Par. Right, as 'twere a man affur'd of a—

Ol. Laf. Vncertaine life, and ſure death.

Par. Iuſt, you ſay well: ſo would I haue ſaid.

Ol. Laf. I may truly ſay, it is a noveltie to the world.

Par. It is indeede if you will haue it in ſhewing, you
ſhall reade it in what do ye call there.

Ol. Laf. A ſhewing of a heauenly effect in an earth-
ly Actor.

Par. That's it, I would haue ſaid, the verie fame.

Ol. Laf. Why your Dolphin is not luſtier: fore me
I ſpeak in reſpect—

Par. Nay 'tis ſtrange, 'tis very ſtraunge, that is the
breeſe and the tedious of it, and he's of a moſt facinera-
ous ſpirit, that will not acknowledge it to be the—

Ol. Laf. Very hand of heauen.

Par. I, ſo I ſay.

Ol. Laf. In a moſt weake—

Par. And debile minifter great power, great tran-
cendence, which should indeede giue vs a further vſe to

be made, then alone the recou'ry of the king, as to bee
Old Laf. Generally thankfull.

Enter King, Hellen, and attendants.

Par. I would haue ſaid it, you ſay well: heere comes
the King.

Ol. Laf. Euſtique, as the Dutchman faies: Ile like a
maide the Better whil't I haue a tooth in my head: why
he's able to leade her a Carranto.

Par. Mor du vinager, is not this Helen?

Ol. Laf. Fore God I thinke so.

King. Goe call before me all the Lords in Court,

Sit my prefuerer by thy patients ſide,

And with this healthfull hand whose banisht ſence

Thou haſt repeal'd, a ſecond time receyue

The confirmation of my promis'd guift,

Which but attends thy naming.

Enter 3 or 4 Lords.

Faire Maide ſend forth thine eye, this youthfull parcell

Of Noble Batchellors, ſtand at my beſtowing,

Ore whom both Soueraigne power, and fathers voice

I haue to vſe thy franke election make,

Thou haſt power to chooſe, and they none to forſake.

Hel. To each of you, one faire and vertuous Miftris;

Fall when loue pleafe, marry to each but one.

Old Laf. I'd giue bay curtall, and his ſumiture

My mouth no more were broken then these boyes,

And writ as little beard.

King. Perufe them well:

Not one of those, but had a Noble father.

She addreffes her to a Lord.

Hel. Gentlemen, heauen hath through me, reſtord
the king to health.

All. We vnderſtand it, and thanke heauen for you.

Hel. I am a simple Maide, and therein wealthiſt

That I protest, I simply am a Maide:

Please it your Maieſtie, I haue done already:

The bluſhes in my cheekes thus whisper mee,

We blush that thou ſhouldſt chooſe, but be reſuſed;

Let the white death fit on thy cheeke for euer,

Wee'l nere come there againe.

King. Make choife and fee,

Who fluns thy loue, fluns all his loue in mee.

Hel. Now Dian from thy Altar do I fly,

And to imperially loue, that God moſt high

Do my highes ſtreame: Sir, will you heare my ſuite?

1. Lo. And grant it.

Hel. Thankes fir, all the reſt is mute.

Ol. Laf. I had rather be in this choife, then throw

Amef-ace for my life.

Hel. The honor fir that flames in your faire eyes,

Before I ſpeak too threateningly replies:

Loue make your fortunes twentie times aboute

Her that ſo vviſhes, and her humble loue.

2. Lo. No better if you pleafe.

Hel. My wif receive,

Which great loue grant, and so I take my leaue.

Ol. Laf. Do all they denie her? And they were ſons
of mine, I'd haue them whip'd, or I would ſend them
to'th Turke to make Eunuches of.

Hel. Be not afraid that I your hand ſhould take,

Ile neuer do you wrong for your owne ſake:

Bleſſing vpon your vowes, and in your bed

Finde fairer fortune, if you euer wed.

Old Laf. These boyes are boyes of Ice, they'le none
haue

All's Well that ends Well.

haue heere : sure they are baſtards to the English, the French nere got em.

La. You are too young, too happy, and too good
To make your ſelfe a ſonne out of my blood.

4: Lord. Fair one, I thinke not so.

Ol. Lord. There's one grape yet, I am sure thy father
drunkne wine. But if thou be't not an aſſe, I am a youth
of ſourteen: I haue knowne thee already.

Hel. I dare not say I take you, but I giue
Me and my ſeruice, euer whilſt I liue
Into your guiding power: This is the man.

King. Why then young Bertram take her ſhee's thy wife.

Ber. My wife my Leige? I ſhal beſeech your highnes
In ſuch a buſines, giue me leaue to viſe
The helpe of mine owne eies.

King. Know'ſt thou not Bertram what ſhee ha's
done for mee?

Ber. Yes my good Lord, but neuer hope to know
why I should marrie her.

King. Thou know'ſt ſhee ha's rais'd me from my ſick-
ly bed.

Ber. But followes it my Lord, to bring me downe
Muſt anſwer for your raiſing? I knowe her well:
Shee had her breeding at my fathers charge:
A poore Pnyſitians daughter my wife? Difdaine
Rather corrupt me euener.

King. Tis onely title thou diſdainſt in her, the which
I can build vp: ſtrange is it that our bloods
Of colour, waſht, and heat, pour'd all together,
Would quite confound diſtinction: yet ſtands off
In differences ſo mightie. If ſhe bee
All that is vertuous (a ſue what thou diſlik't)
A poore Pnyſitians daughter, thou diſlik'ſt
Of vertue for the name: but doe not ſo:
From loweſt place, whence vertuous things proceed,
The place is dignified by th' doers decede.

Where great additions ſwell's, and vertue none,
It is a dropſed honour. Good a lone,
Is good without a name? Vileneſſe is ſo:
The propertie by what is, should go,

Not by the title. Shee is young, wife, faire,
In theſe, to Nature ſhee's immediate heire:
And theſe breed honour: that is honours ſcorne,

Which challenges it ſelfe as honours borne,
And is not like the fire: Honours thrine,
When rather from our acts we them deriue

Then our fore-goers: the meere words, a ſlau
Deboſh'd on euerie tombe, on euerie graue:
A lying Trophee, and as oft is dumbe,

Where duſt, and damn'd obliuion is the Tombe.
Of honour'd bones indeed, what should be ſaide?
If thou canſt like this creature, as a maide,
I can create the reſt: Vertue, and ſhee
I her owne dower: Honour and wealth, from mee.

Ber. I cannot loue her, nor will I striue to doo't.

King. Thou wrong'ſt thy ſelfe, if thou shold'ſt striue to choose.

Hel. That you are well reſtor'd my Lord, I'me glad:
Let the reſt go.

King. My Honor's at the ſtake, which to defeate
I muſt produce my power. Heere, take her hand,
Proud ſcornfull boy, vnworthie this good gift,
That doſt in vile mitprifion ſhackle vp
My loue, and her defert: that canſt not dreame,
We poizing vs in her defective ſcale,

Shall weigh thee to the beame: That wilt not know,
It is in Vs to plant thine Honour, where

We pleaſe to haue it grow. Checke thy contempt:
Obey Our will, which trauailes in thy good:

Belecu not thy diſdaine, but preſentie

Do thine owne fortunes that obeyed right

Which both thy dutie owes, and Our power claimers,
Or I will throw thee from my care for euer

Into the flaggers, and the careleſſe lapſe.
Of youth and ignorance: both my reuenge and hate,
Loofing vpon thee, in the name of iuſtice,
Without all termes of pittie. Speake, thine anſwer.

Ber. Pardon my gracious Lord: for I submit
My fancie to your eies, when I consider
What great creation, and what dole of honour
Flies where you bid it: I finde that ſhe which late
Was in my Nobler thoughts, moſt base: is now
The praſed of the King, who ſo ennobled,
Is as't were borne ſo.

King. Take her by the hand,
And tell her ſhe is thine: to whom I promife
A counterpoize: If not to thy eſtate,
A ballance more repleat.

Ber. I take her hand.

Kin. Good fortune, and the favour of the King
Smile vpon this Contract: whose Ceremonie
Shall ſeeeme expedient on the now borne briefe,
And be perform'd to night: the ſolemne Feaſt
Shall more attend vpon the coming ſpace,
Expecting aſſent friends. As thou louſt her,
Thy loue's to me Religious: eſſe, do's erre.

Exeunt
Parolles and Laſew flyt behind, commen-
ting of this wedding.

Laf. Do you heare Monsieur? A word with you.

Par. Your pleafure ſir.

Laf. Your Lord and Maſter did well to make his re-
cantation.

Par. Recantation? My Lord? my Maſter?

Laf. I: Is it not a Language I ſpeake?

Par. A moſt harſh one, and not to bee vnderſtoode
without bloudie ſucceeding My Maſter?

Laf. Are you Companion to the Count Rofuſion?

Par. To any Count, to all Counts: to what is man.

Laf. To what is Counts man: Counts maſter is of
another ſtyle.

Par. You are too old ſir: Let it ſatisfie you, you are
too old.

Laf. I muſt tell thee ſirrah, I write Man : to which
title age cannot bring thee.

Par. What I dare too well do, I dare not do.

Laf. I did thinke thee for two ordinaries : to bea
prettie wife ſellow, thou didſt make tollerable vent of
thy trauell, it might paſſe: yet the ſcarffies and the ban-
nerets about thee, did maniſoldie diſtwade me from be-
leeuing thee a veſſell of too great a burthen. I hauenow
found thee, when I looke thee againe, I care not: yet art
thou good for nothing but taking vp, and that th' ourt
ſcarce worth.

Par. Hadst thou not the priuilege of Antiquity vp-
on thee.

Laf. Do not plundge thy ſelfe to farre in anger, leaſt
thou haſten thy triall: which if, Lord haue mercie on
thee for a hen, so my good window of Lettice fare thee
well, thy caſement I neeede not open, for I look through
thee. Giue me thy hand.

Par. My Lord, you giue me moſt egregious indignity.

e Laf.

All's Well, that Ends Well.

239

Laf. I with all my heart, and thou art worthy of it.

Par. I haue not my Lord deferu'd it.

Laf. Yes good faith, eu'ry dramme of it, and I will not bace thee a scruple.

Par. Well, I shall be wiser.

Laf. Eu'n as foone as thou can't, for thou haft to pull at a smacke a'th contrarie. If euer thou bee't bound in thy skarfe and beaten, thou shall finde what it is to be proud of thy bondage, I haue a defire to holde my acquaintance with thee, or rather my knowledge, that I may fay in the default, he is a man I know.

Par. My Lord you do me moft infupportable vexation.

Laf. I would it were hell paines for thy fake, and my poore doinge eternall: for doing I am paft, as I will by thee, in what motion age will giue me leaue. Exit.

Par. Well, thou haft a fonne (shall take this difgrace off me; ſcuruy, old, filthy, ſcuruy Lord: Well, I muſt be patient, there is no fettering of authority. Ile beate him (by my life) if I can meete him with any conuenience, and he were double and double a Lord. Ile haue no more pittie of his age then I would haue of— Ile beate him, and if I could but meet him agen.

Enter Lafew.

Laf. Sirra, your Lord and maſters married, there's newes for you: you haue a new Miftris.

Par. I moſt vnfainedly beſeech your Lordſhippe to make ſome reſueruion of your wrongs. He is my good Lord, whom I ferue aboute is my maſter.

Laf. Who? God.

Par. I ſir.

Laf. The devill it is, that's thy maſter. Why dooſeſt thou garter vp thy armes a this fashion? Doſt make hoge of thy ſleeues? Do other ſeruants fo? Thou wert beſt ſet thy lower part where thy noſe stands. By mine Honor, if I were but two houres yonger, I'de beate thee: mee-think'ſt thou art a generall offence, and euery man ſhold beate thee: I thinke thou waſt created for men to breath themſelues vpon thee.

Par. This is hard and vndefeued meaſure my Lord.

Laf. Go too ſir, you were beaten in Italy for picking a kernell out of a Pomgranat, you are a vagabond, and no true traueler: you are more ſawcie with Lordes and honourable ſonographies, then the Commiſſion of your birth and vertue giues you Heraldry. You are not worth another word, elle I'de call you knaue. Ile aue you.

Exit

Enter Count Roffillion.

Par. Good, very good, it is ſo then: good, very good, let it be concea'd a while.

Rof. Vndone, and forfeited to cares for euer.

Par. What's the matter sweet-heart?

Rofill. Although before the ſolme Priſt I haue ſworne, I will not bed her.

Par. What? what (sweet heart)?

Rof. O my Parrolles, they haue married me:

Ile to the Tuscan warres, and neuer bed her.

Par. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits, The tread of a mans foot: too'th warres.

Rof. There's letters from my mother: What this importa, I know not yet.

Par. I that would be knowne: too'th warres my boy, too'th warres:

He weares his honor in a boxe vnſenee,
That hugges his kickie wickie heare at home,
Spending his manlie marrow in her atmes
Which should ſuſtaine the bound and high curnet
Of Marſes fierie ſeed: to other Regions,
France is a ſtble, wee that dwell not in Iades,
Therefore too'th warre.

Rof. It shall be ſo, Ile ſend her to my house,
Acquaint my mother with my hate to her,
And wherefore I am ſled: Write to the King
That which I durſt not ſpeake. His preſent giſt
Shall furniſh me to thate Italian fields
Where noble ſellowes ſtrike: Warres is no ſtrife
To the darke house, and the detected wife.

Par. Will this Caprichio hold in thee, art ſure?

Rof. Go with me to my chamber, and aduice me.
Ile ſend her fraight away: To morrow,
Ile to the warres, ſhe to her ſingle ſorrow.

Par. Why these bals bound, ther's noife in it. This hard
A yong man married, is a man that's mard:

Therefore away, and leaue her braulely: go,

The King ha's done you wrong: but hush't is ſo.

Exit

Enter Helena and Clowne.

Hel. My mother greets me kindly, is she well?

Clo. She is not well, but yet ſhe has her health; ſhe's very merrie, but yet ſhe is not well: but thanks be giuen ſhe's very well, and wants nothing i'th world: but yet ſhe is not well.

Hel. If ſhe be verie well, what do's ſhe ayle, that ſhe's not verie well?

Clo. Truly ſhe's very well indeed, but for two things.

Hel. What two things?

Clo. One, that ſhe's not in heauen, whether God ſend her quickly: the other, that ſhe's in earth, from whence God ſend her quickly.

Enter Parolles.

Par. Bieſſe you my fortunate Ladie.

Hel. I hope fir I haue your good will to haue mine owne good fortune.

Par. You had my prayers, to leade them on, and to
keepe them on, haue them ſtill. O my knaue, how do's
my old Ladie?

Clo. So that you had her wrinkles, and I her money,
I would ſhe did as you ſay.

Par. Why I ſay nothing.

Clo. Marry you are the wifer man: for many a mans
tongue shakes out his maſters vndoing: to ſay nothing,
to do nothing, to know nothing, and to haue nothing,
is to be a great part of your title, which is within a verie
little of nothing.

Par. Away, that art a knaue.

Clo. You should haue ſaid fir before a knaue, that'are
knaue, that's before me that art a knaue: this had beene
truth fir.

Par. Go too, thou art a wittie ſoole, I haue found thee.

Clo. Did you ſinde me in your ſelfe fir, or were you taught to ſinde me?

Clo. The ſearch fir was profitable; and much Foole
may you find in you, euen to the worlds pleafure, and the
encreafe of laughter.

Par. A good knaue isfaith, and well ſed.
Madam, my Lord will go awaie to night,

A

240

All's Well that ends Well.

A verie ferious businesse call's on him :
The great prerogative and rite of loue,
Which as your due time claimes, he do's acknowledge,
But puts it off to a compell'd reftraint:
Whose want, and whose delay, is strew'd with sweets
Which they diffill now in the curbed time,
To make the comming houre oreflow with ioy,
And pleasure drowne the brim.

Hel. What's his will else?

Par. That you will take your infant leaue a'th king,
And make his haft as your owne good proceeding,
Strengthned with what Apologie you thinke
May make it probable neede.

Hel. What more commands hee?

Par. That hauing this obtain'd, you preſentlie
Attend his further pleaure.

Hel. In euery thing I waite vpon his will.

Par. I ſhall report it ſo.

Hell. I pray you come firrah.

Exi't Par.

Exit

### Enter Lafew and Bertram.

Laf. But I hope your Lordſlippe thinkes not him a
ſouldier.

Ber. Yes my Lord and of verie valiant approafe.

Laf. You haue it from his owne deliuerance.

Ber. And by other warranted teſtimonie.

Laf. Then my Diall goes not true, I tooke this L arke
for a bunting.

Ber. I do aſſure you my Lord he is very great in know-
ledge, and accordinglie valiant.

Laf. I haue then ſinn'd againſt his experience, and
tranſgrett againſt his valour, and my ſtate that way is
dangerous, ſince I cannot yet find in my heart to repent:
Heere he comes, I pray you make vs freinds, I will pur-
fue the amitie.

### Enter Parolles.

Par. Theſe things shall be done fir.

Laf. Pray you fir whose his Tailor?

Par. Sit?

Laf. O I know him well, I fir, hee fir's a good worke-
man, a verie good Tailor.

Ber. Is ſhee gone to the king?

Par. ſhee is.

Ber. Will ſhee away to night?

Par. As you'll haue her.

Ber. I haue writ my letters, casketted my treasure,
Guen order for our horſes, and to night,
When I should take poſſession of the Bride,
And ere I doe begin.

Laf. A good Trauailer is ſomething at the latter end of a dinner, but on that lies three thirds, and vſes a known truth to paffe a thouſand nothings with, ſhould bee once hard, and thrice beaten. God faue you Cap-
taine.

Ber. Is there any vnkindnes betweene my Lord and
you Monſieur?

Par. I know not how I haue deferued to run into my
Lords diſpleaſure.

Laf. You haue made ſhift to run into't, bootes and
ſputres and all : like him that leapt into the Cuſtard, and
out of it you'l runne againe, rather then ſuffer queſtion
for your ſtidence.

Ber. It may bee you haue miſtaken him my Lord.

Laf. And ſhall do ſo euery though I tooke him at's
prayers. Fare you well my Lord, and beleeue this of

me, there can be no kernell in this light Nut : the foule
of this man is his cloathes : Truſt him not in matter of
heauie ſequence : I haue kept of them tame, & know
their natures. Farewell Monſieur, I haue ſpoken better
of you, then you haue or will to deferue at my hand, but
we muſt do good againſt euill.

Par. An idle Lord, I ſweare.

Ber. I thinke ſo.

Par. Why do you not know him ?

Ber. Yes, I do know him well, and common ſpeech
Gives him a worthy paffe. Heere comes my clog.

### Enter Helena.

Hel. I haue fir as I was commanded from you
Spoke with the King, and haue procur'd his leaue
For preſent parting, onely he deſires
Some priuate ſpeech with you.

Ber. I ſhall obey his will.

You muſt not meruale Helen at my courſe,
Which holds not colour with the time, nor does
The miniftration, and required office
On my particular. Prepar'd I was not
For ſuch a businesſe, therefore am I found
So much vnſetled : This drives me to intreate you,
That preſently you take your way for home,
And rather muſe then aske why I intreate you,
For my reſpects are better then they ſeeue,
And my appointments haue in them a neede
Greater then ſhewes it ſelfe at the firſt view,
To you that knowe them not. This to my mother,
I will be two daies ere I ſhall fee you, ſo
I leaue you to your wifedome.

Hel. Sir, I can nothing ſay,

But that I am your moſt obedienc ſeruant.

Ber. Come, come, no more of that.

Hel. And euer ſhall

With true obſeruance ſeeke to eefe out that
Wherein toward me my homely ſtarres haue ſaſt
To equall my great fortune.

Ber. Let that goe : my haſt is verie great. Farwell:
Hie home.

Hel. Pray fir your pardon.

Ber. Well, what would you ſay?

Hel. I am not worthie of the wealth I owe,
Nor dare I ſay 'tis mine: and yet it is,
But like a timorous theefe, moſt faine would ſteale
What law does vouch mine owne.

Ber. What would you haue?

Hel. Something, and ſcarfe so much : nothing indeed,
I would not tell you what I would my Lord : Faith yes,
Strangers and foes do ſunder, and not kiffe.

Ber. I pray you ſtay not, but in haſt to horſe.

Hel. I ſhall not breake your biding, good my Lord:
Where are my other men? Monſieur, farwell.

Ber. Go thou toward home, where I wil neuer come,
Whilft I can ſhake my ſword, or heare the drumme:
Away, and for our flight.

Par. Brauely, Coragio.

### Actus Tertius.

Flourish.
Enter the Duke of Florence, the two Frenchmen,
with a troop of Souldiers.

Duke. So that from point to point, now haue you heard
The

All's Well, that Ends Well.

24I

The fundamentall reasons of this warre;
Whole great decision hath much blood let forth
And more thirfts after.

1. Lord. Holy feemes the quarrell
Pron your Graces part : blacke and fearefull
On the oppoer.

Duke. Therefore we meruaile much our Cofin France
Would in so just a businesse, that his bosome
Against our borrowing prayers.

French E. Good my Lord,
Thereaues of our state I cannot yeelde,
But like a common and an outward man,
That the great figure of a Comnfaile frames,
By selfe viable motion, therefore dare not
Say what I thinke of it, since I haue found
My selfe in my incertaine grounds to faille
As often as I guest.

Duke. Be it his pleasure.

Fren.G. But I am sure the yonger of our nature,
That surfet on their eafe, will day by day
Come here for Phyficke.

Duke. Welcome shall they bee:
And all the honors that can flye from vs,
Shall on them settle: you know your places well,
When better fall, for your auailes they fell,
To morrow to'th field.

Flourish.

Enter Countesse and Clowne.

Count. It hath happen'd all, as I would haue had it, saue
that he comes not along with her.

Clo. By my troth, I take my young Lord to be a ye-
rie melancholly man.

Count. By what obseruance I pray you.

Clo. Why he will looke vpon his boote, and fing:
mend the Ruffe and fing, aske queftions and fing, picke
his teeth, and fing: I know a man that had this tricke of
melancholy hold a goodly Manner for a song.

Lad. Let me see what he writes, and when he means to come.

Clow. I haue no minde to Isbell since I was at Court.
Our old Lings, and our Isbels a'th Country, are nothing
like your old Ling and your Isbels a'th Court: the brains
of my Cupid's knock'd out, and I beginne to loue, as an
old man loues money, with no ftomacke.

Lad. What haue we here?

Clo. In that you have there.

A Letter.

I haue sent you a daughter-in-Law, ſone hath recovered the
King, and vndone me: I haue wedded her, not bedded her,
and ſworne to make the not eternall. You ſhall heare I am
runne away, know it before the report come. If there bee
breath enough in the world, I will hold a long diſtance. My
duty to you.

Your unfortunate ſonne,
Bertram.

This is not well rafh and vnbridled boy,
To flye the fauours of so good a King,
To plucke his indignation on thy head,
By the misprifing of a Maide too vertuous
For the contempt of Empire.

Enter Clowne.

Clow. O Madam, yonder is heauie newes within be-
tweene two ſouldiers, and my yong Ladie.

La. What is the matter.

Clo. Nay there is some comfort in the newes, some
comfort, your ſonne will not be kild so ſoon as I thought
he would.

La. Why ſhould he be kill'd?

Clo. So ſay I Madame, if he runne away, as I heare he
does, the danger is in standing too't, that's the loffe of
men, though it be the getting of children. Heere they
come will tell you more. For my part I onely heare your
ſonne was run away.

Enter Hellen and two Gentlemen.

French E. Saue you good Madam.

Hel. Madam, my Lord is gone, for euer gone.

French G. Do not ſay so.

La. Thinke vpon patience, pray you Gentlemen,
I haue felt so many quirks of joy and greeſe,
That the first face of neither on the start

Can woman me vntoot. Where is my ſonne I pray you?

Fren.G. Madam he's gone to ſerue the Duke of Flo-
rence,

We met him thitherward, for thence we came :

And after some dispatch in hand at Court,
Thither we bend againe.

Hel. Looke on his Letter Madam, here's my Paſport.

When thou canſt get the Ring upon my ſinger, which neu'r
shall come off, and ſhow mee a childe begotten of thy bodie,
that I am father too, then call me husband; but in ſuch a then
I write a Neuer.

This is a dreadfull ſentence.

La. Brought you this Letter Gentlemen?

I.G. I Madam, and for the Contents take are forrie
for our paines.

Old La. I prethee Ladie haue a better cheere,
If thou engroſſed, all the greeſes are thine,
Thou robſt me of a moity: He was my ſonne,
But I do wraſh his name out of my blood,

And thou art all my childe. Towards Florence is he?

Fren.G. I Madam.

La. And to be a ſouldier.

Fren.G. Such is his noble purpofe, and beleeu't

The Duke will lay vpon him all the honor
That good conuenience claims.

La. Returne you thither.

Fren.E. I Madam, with the swiftest wing of ſpeed.

Hel. Till I haue no wife, I haue nothing in France,

Tis bitter.

La. Finde you that there?

Hel. I Madame.

Fren.E.'Tis but the boldneſſe of his hand haply, which
his heart was not conſenting too.

Lad. Nothing in France, vntill he haue no wife:
There's nothing here that is too good for him
But only ſhe, and ſhe deferues a Lord.

That twenty ſuch rude boyes might tend vpon,
And call her hourly Miftris. Who was with him ?

Fren.E. A ſeruant only, and a Gentleman : which I
haue sometime knowne.

La. Parolles was it not?

Fren.E. I my good Ladie, hee.

La. A verie tainted ſellow, and full of wickedneſſe,
My ſonne corrupts a well deriued nature.
With his inducement,

Fren.E. Indeed good Ladie the ſellow has a deale of
that, too much, which holds him much to haue.

La. Y are welcome Gentlemen, I will intreat you
when you fee my ſonne, to tell him that his ſword can
neuer winne the honor that he loofes : more I intreat

X

you

All's Well that ends Well.

242

you written to bear along.

Frenz. G. We serve you Madam in that and all your worthiest affaires.

La. Not so, but as we change our courtesses,
Will you draw neere?

Exit.

Hel. Till I haue no wife I haue nothing in France.

Nothing in France vntill he has no wife :
Thou haft haue none Roffillion, none in France,
Then haft thou all againe: poore Lord, is't I
That chafe thee from thy Countrie, and expole
Thofe tender limbes of thine, to the euent
Of the none-sparing warre? And is it I,
That drive thee from the sportiue Court, where thou
Was't shot at with faire eyes, to be the marke
Of Imokie Muskets? O you leaden meffengers,
That ride vpon the violent speede of fire,
Fly with falfe ayme, moue the still-peering aire
That fings with piercing, do not touch my Lord:
Who euer shoots at him, I fet him there.
Who euere charges on his forward breft
I am the Caitiffe that do hold him too't,
And though I kill him not, I am the caufe
His death was so effected: Better 'twere
I met the rauine Lyon when he roar'd
With Sharpe conftraint of hunger: better 'twere,
That all the miſeries which nature owes
Were mine at once. No come thou home Roffillion,
Whence honor but of danger winnes a ſcarre.

As oft it loofes all. I will be gone:
My being heere it is, that holds thee hence,
Shall I stay heere to doot? No, no, although
The ayre of Paradife did fan the house,
And Angles offic'd all: I will be gone,
That pittifull rumour may report my flight
To conſolate thine eare. Come night, end day,
For with the darke (poore theefe) Ile tieale away.

Exit.

Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Roffillion, drum and trumpets, soldiers, Parrolles.

Duke. The Generall of our horse thou art, and we
Great in our hope, lay our best loue and credence
Vpon thy promising fortune.

Ber. Sir it is

A charge too heavy for my strength, but yet
Wee'l triuie to beare it for your worthy ſake,
To th' extreme edge of hazard.

Duke. Then go thou forth,
And fortune play vpon thy proſporous helme
As thy auspicious miftris.

Ber. This very day

Great Mars I put my ſelfe into thy file,
Make me but like my thoughts, and I ſhall prove
A loner of thy drumme, hater of loue.

Exeunt omnes

Enter Countesse & Steward.

La. Alas! and would you take the letter of her:
Might you not know ſhe would do, as ſhe has done,
By lending me a Letter. Read it agen.

Letter.

I am S. Jaques Pilgrims, thisither gone:

Ambitions loue hath so in me offended,

That bare-foot plod I the cold ground upon

With painted vowe my faults to hane amended.

Write, write, that from the bloodie courſe of warre,
My deereft Master your dear eare ſomme, may lie,
Bleſſe him at home in peace. Whilst I from ſarre,
His name with zealous ſeruor ſanctiſe :

His taken labours bid him me forgive:

I his deſpightſul Imo ſent him forth,

From Courtly friends, with Camping foes to line,

Where death and danger dogges the heeles of worth.

He is too good and faire for death, and me,

Whom I my ſelfe embrace, to ſet him free.

Ah what Sharpe ſtings are in her mildeft words?

Rynaldo, you did neuer lacke aduice so much,

As letting her paffe so: had I spoke with her,

I could haue well diuerted her intents,

Which thus ſhe hath prevented.

Ste. Pardon me Madam,

If I had giuen you this at ouer-night,
She might haue beene ore-tane: and yet ſhe writes
Purſuite would be but vaine.

La. What Angell shall

Bleſſe this vnworthy husband, he cannot thriue,
Vnleſſe her prayers, whom heauen delights to heare
And loues to grant, reprecue him from the wrath
Of greatest Iustice. Write, write Rynaldo,

To this vnworthy husband of his wife,
Let euerie word waigh heauie of her worth,
That he does waigh too light: my greatest greefe,
Though little he do loofe it, ſet downe sharply.

Dispatch the moſt convenient meſſenger,
When haply he shall heare that ſhe is gone,
He will returne, and hope I may that ſhee
Hearing so much, will ſpeede her fooſte againe,
Led hither by pure loue: which of them both
Is deereſt to me, I have no skill in ſence

To make distinction: prouide this Meſſenger :

My heart is heauie, and mine age is weake,

Greeſe would haue teares, and ſorrow bids me ſpeake.

Exeunt

A Tucke of ſarre off.

Enter old Widdow of Florence, her daughter, Violent and Mariana, with other Citizens.

Widdow. Nay, come,

For if they do approach the City,
We shall looke all the fight.

Diana. They ſay, the French Count has done
Moft honourable ſeruice.

Wd. It is reported,

That he has taken their great'ſt Commander,
And that with his owne hand he flew
The Dukes brother: we haue loft our labour,
They are gone a contrarie waye harke,
you may know by their Trumpets.

Maria. Come let's returne againe,
And ſuffice our ſelues with the report of it.
Well Diana, take heed of this French East,
The honor of a Maide is her name,
And no Legacie is so rich
As honeſtie.

Widdow. I haue told myneighbour
How you haue beene solicited by a Gentleman
His Companion.

Maria

All's Well that ends Well.

243

Marie. I know that knaue, hang him, one Parolles,
a filthy Officer he is in those suggestions for the young
Earle, beware of them Diana; their promiles, entitle-
ments, oathes, tokens, and all these engines of luſt, are
not the things they go vnder: many a maide hath beene
ſeduced by them, and the miſerie is example, that ſo
terrible ſhewes in the wracke of maiden-hood, cannot
for all that diſſwade ſucceſſion, but that they are limed
with the twigges that threatens them. I hope I neede
not to auide you further, but I hope your owne grace
will keepe you where you are, though there were no
further danger knowne, but the modestie which is ſo
loſt.

Dio. You shall not neede to ſeare me.
Enter Hellen.

Wid. I hope ſo: looke here comes a pilgrim, I know
ſhe will lye at my houſe, thither they ſend one another,
Ile queſtion her. God ſaue you pilgrim, whether are
bound?

Hel. To S. Iaques la grand.

Where do the Palmers lodge, I do beſeech you?
Wid. At the S. Francis heere beſide the Port,

Hel. Is this the way?

A march aſarre.

Wid. I marrie it. Harke you, they come this way :

If you will tarrie holy Pilgrime

But till the troopes come by,
I will conduct you where you ſhall be lodg'd,
The rather for I thinke I know your hoſſeſſe
As ample as my ſelfe.

Hel. Is it your ſelfe ?

Wid. If you ſhall pleafe ſo Pilgrime.

Hel. I thanke you, and will ſtay vpon your leifure.

Wid. you came I thinke from France?

Hel. I did ſo.

Wid. Heere you ſhall fee a Countriman of yours

That has done worthy ſeruice.

Hel. His name Iptay you?

Dio. The Count Roffillion: know you ſuch a one?

Hel. But by the care that heares ſmoſt nobly of him :

His face I know not.

Dio. What ſomere he is

He's brauly taken heere. He ſtole from France
As't is reported: for the King had married him

Against his liking. Thinke you it is ſo ?

Hel. I ſurely meere the truth, I know his Lady.

Dio. There is a Gentleman that ſerues the Count,

Reports but courſely of her.

Hel. What's his name?

Dio. Monſieur Parrolles.

Hel. Oh I beleeue with him,

In argument of prieſe, or to the worth

Of the great Count himselfe, ſhe is too meane

To haue her name repeated, all her deferuing
Is a reſuered honestie, and that
I haue not heard examin'd.

Dian. Alas poore Ladie,

Tis a hard bondage to become the wife
Of a deteſting Lord.

Wid. I write good creature, whereſoever ſhe is,
Her hart waighes fadly : this yong maid might do her
A ſhrewd turne if ſhe pleas'd.

Hel. How do you meane?

May be the amorous Count ſolicites her
In the vullawſull purpose.

Wid. He does indeede,

And brokes with all that can in ſuch a ſuite

Corrupt the tender honour of a Maide :

But ſhe is arm'd for him, and keepeſ her guard
In honesteſt defence.

Drumme and Colours.

Enter Count Roffillion, Parrolles, and the whole Armie.

Mar. The goddes forbid eſſe.

Wid. So, now they come:

That is Anthony the Dukes eldeſt ſonne,
That Eſcalus.

Hel. Which is the Frenchman?

Dia. Hee,

That with the plume, 'tis a moſt gallant fellow,
I would he lou'd his wife : if he were honesſer

He were much goodlier. Is't not a handſom Gentleman
Hel. I like him well.

Di. 'Tis pity he is not honest: yonds that fame knaue
That leades him to theſe places: were I his Ladie,
I would poſſon that vile Raſcall.

Hel. Which is he ?

Dia. That Iacke an-apes with ſcarſes. Why is hee
melancholly?

Hel. Perchance he ſh hurt i'th battaile.

Tar. Loofe our drum ? Well.

Mar. He's ſhrewdly vext at ſomething. Looke he
has ſped vs.

Wid. Marrie hang you.

Mar. And your curſeſie, for a ring-carrier. Exit.

Wid. The troope is paſt: Come pilgrim, I wil bring
you, Where you ſhall haſt: Of inioyn'd penitents
There's ſoure or ſiue, to great S. Iaques bound,
Alreadie at my houſe.

Hel. I humbly thank you :

Please it this Matron, and this gentle Maide
To eate with vs to night, 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. Wee'l take your offer kindly.

Exeunt.

Enter Count Roffillion and the Frenchmen,
as at first.

Cap. E. Nay good my Lord put him too't : let him
haue his way.

Cap. G. If your Lordſhippe ſinde him not a Hilding,
hold me no more in your reſpect.

Cap. E. On my life my Lord, a bubble.

Ber. Do you thinke I am ſo ſarre

Deceiued in him.

Cap. E. Beleeue it my Lord, in mine owne direct
knowledge, without any malice, but to ſpeake of him
as my kinfman, hee's a moſt notable Coward, an infi-
nite and endleſſe Lyar, an hourely promife-breaker, the
owner of no one good qualitie, worthy your Lordſhips
entertainment.

Cap. G. It were fit you knew him, leaſt reſoſing too
farre in his vertue which he hath not, he might at ſome
great and truſtie buſineſſe, in a maine daunger, ſayle
you.

Ber. I would I knew in what particular action to try
him.

Cap. G. None better then to let him fetch off his
drumme, which you heare him ſo confidently vnder-
take to do.

C. E. I with a troop of Florentines wil sodainly fur-

X 2

prize

All's Well that ends Well.

244

prize him; such I will have whom I am sure he knows not from the enemy: wee will binde and hoodwinke him so, that he shall suppofe no other but that he is carried into the Leager of the aduerfaries, when we bring him to our owne tents: be but your Lordship preſent at his examination, if he do not for the promife of his life, and in the higheft compulſion of bare ſcare, offer to betray you, and deliuer all the intelligence in his power againſt you, and that with the diuine ſorſeite of his ſoule vpon oath, neuer truſt my iudgement in anie thing.

Cap.G. O for the loue of laughter, let him fetch his drumme, he ſayes he has a ſtratagem for't: when your Lordſhip ſees the bottome of this ſucceſſe in't, and to what mettle this counterſeyt lump of ours will be melted if you giue him not John drummes entertainment, your inlinging cannot be remoued. Heere he comes.

### Enter Parrolles.

Cap.E. O for the loue of laughter hinder not the honor of his defigne, let him fetch off his drumme in any hand.

Ber. How now Monſieur? This drumme ſticks forely in your diſpoſition.

Cap-G. A pox on't, let it go, 'tis but a drumme.

Par. But a drumme: Iſt but a drumme? A drum fo loft. There was excellent command, to charge in with our horſe vpon our owne wings, and to rend our owne ſouldiers.

Cap.G. That was not to be blam'd in the command of the ſeruice: it was a diſaſter of warre that Caſar him ſelfe could not haue preuented, if he had beene there to command.

Ber. Well, wee cannot greatly condemn our ſucceſſe: some diſhonor wee had in the loſſe of that drum, but it is not to be reconuered.

Par. It might haue beene reconuered.

Ber. It might, but it is not now.

Par. It is to be reconuered, but that the merit of ſeruice is ſildome attributed to the true and exaſt performer, I would haue that drumme or another, or his acet.

Ber. Why if you haue a ſtomacke, too't Monſieur: if you thinke your myſterie in ſtratagem, can bring this inſtrument of honour againe into his native quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprize and go on, I wil grace the attempt for a worthy exploite: if you ſpeede well in it, the Duke ſhall both ſpeake of it, and extend to you what further becomes his greatneſſe, euen to the vmoſt ſyſlable of your worthineſſe.

Par. By the hand of a ſouldier I will vndertake it.

Ber. But you muſt not now ſlumber in it.

Par. Ile about it this euening, and I will presently pen downe my dilemma's, encourage my ſelfe in my certaintie, put my ſelfe into my mortall preparation : and by midnight looke to heare further from me.

Ber. May I bee bold to acquaint his grace you are gone about it.

Par. I know not what the ſucceſſe will be my Lord, but the attempt I vow.

Ber. I know that valiant, And to the poffibility of thy ſouldliſhip, Will ſubſeribe for thee: Farewell.

Par. I loue not many words.

Exit

Cap.E. No more thena fifth loues water. Is not this

a ſtrange fellow my Lord, that ſo confidently ſeemes to vndertake this buſineſſe, which he knows is not to be done, damnes himſelſe to do, & dares better be damnd then to doo't.

Cap.G. You do not know him my Lord as we do, certaine it is that he will ſteale himſelfe into a man's ſouur, and for a weeke eſcape a great deale of diſeſtories, but when you finde him out, you haue him euer after.

Ber. Why do you thinke he will make no deede at all of this that ſo feriouſlie hee dooes addreſſe himſelfe vato?

Cap.E. None in the world, but returne with an inuention, and clap vpon you two or three probable lies: but we haue almoſt imboſh you, ſhall see his fall to might; for indeede he is not for your Lordſhipps reſpect.

Cap.G. Weele make you ſome ſport with the Fouse where we caſe him. He was firſt moak'd by the old Lord Laſew, when his diſguife and he is parted, tell me what a ſprat you ſhall finde him, which you ſhall see this verie night.

Cap.E. I muſt gooke my twigges, He shall be caught.

Ber. Your brother he ſhall go along with me.

Cap.G. As't pleafe your Lordſhip, Ile leaue you.

Ber. Now will I lead you to the houſe, and ſhow you The Lasse I spoke of.

Cap.E. But you ſay ſhe's honest.

Ber. That's all the fault: I ſpoke with him but once, And found her wondrous cold, but I ſent to her By this fame Coxcombe: that we haue i'th'winde Tokens and Letters, which ſhe did ſendſend, And this is all I haue done: ſhe's a faire creature, Will you goe ſee her?

Cap.E. With all my heart my Lord.

Exeunt

### Enter Hellen, and Widdow.

Hel. If you miſdoubt me that I am not ſhee, I know not how I ſhall aſſure you further, But i ſhall looke the grounds I worke vpon.

Wid. Though my eſtate be false, I was well borne, Nothing acquainted with theſe buſineſſes, And would not put my reputation now In any ſtaining aſt.

Hel. Nor would I wifh you.

Firſt giue me truſt, the Count he is my husband, And what to your ſworne counſaile I haue ſpoken, Is ſo from word to word: and then you cannot By the good ayde that I of you ſhall borrow, Erre in beſtowing it.

Wid. I should beleeue you,

For you haue ſhew'd me that which well approues Yare great in fortune.

Hel. Take this purſe of Gold, And let me buy your friendly helpe thus ſarre, Which I will ouer-pay, and pay againe When I haue found it. The Count he woes your daughter,

Layes downe his wanton ſiedge before her beautie, Refolue to carrie her: let her in fine conſent As weel direct her how'tis beſt to beare it: Now his important blood will naught denie, That ſhee'l demand: a ring the Countie weares, That downward hath succeeded in his houſe

From

All's Well that Ends Well.

245

From tonne to tonne, some foure or five disents.
Since the first father wore it. This Ring he holds
In moft rich choice: yet in his idle fire,
To buy his will, it would not seeme too deere,
How ere repented after.

wrd. Now I see the bottome of your purpose

Hel. You see it lawfull then, it is no more,
But that your daughter ere she seemes as wonne,
Desires this Ring, appoints him an encounter;
In fine, delivers me to fill the time,
Her selfe moft charafty absent: after
To marry her, Ile adde three thousand Crownes
To what is past already.

wrd. Ihaue yeeded:
Infrust my daughter how she shall perfeuer,
That time and place with this deceite so lawfull
May proue coherent. Euery night he comes
With Musfickes of all forts, and longs compos'd
To her vnworthineffe: It nothing feeds vs
To chide him from our ecues, for he periftis
As if his life lay on't.

Hel. Why then to night
Let vs affay our plot, which if it speed,
Is wicked meaning in a lawfull decede;
And lawfull meaning in a lawfull act,
Where both not finne, and yet a finfull fact.
But let's about it.

## Actus Quartus.

Enter one of the Frenchmen, with fire or fire other
souldiers in ambush.

1. Lord E. He can come no other way but by this hedge corner: when you fallie upon him, speake what terrible Language you will: though you vnderstand it not your selfes, no matter: for we muft not seeme to vnderstand him, vuleſſe ſome one among vs, whom wee muſt produce for an Interpreter.

1. Sol. Good Captaie, let me be th' Interpreter.

Lor. E. Art not acquainted with him? knowes he not thy voice?

1. Sol. No fir I warrant you.

Lo. E. But what linsle wolſy haſt thou to ſpeake to vs againe.

1. Sol. E'n ſuch as you ſpeake to me.

Lo. E. He muſt thinke vs some band of ſtrangers, 1th
aduerfaries entertainment. Now he hath a ſmacke of all
neighbouring Languages: therefore we muſt euery one
be a man of his owne fancie, not to know what we ſpeak
one to another: for we ſeeme to know, is to know ſtraight
our purpose: Choughs language, gabble enough, and
good enough. As for you interpreter, you muſt ſee me
very politicke. But couch hoa, heere hee comes, to be-
guile two houres in a ſleepe, and then to returne & ſwear
the lies he forges.

Enter Parroles.

Par. Ten a clocke: Within these three houres 'twill
be time enough to goe home. What ſhall I ſay I haue
done? It muſt be a very plaſuie inuention that carries
it. They beginne to ſmoake mee, and diſgraces haue of
late, knock'd too often at my doore: I finde my tongue
is too foole-hardie, but my heart hath the ſeare of Mars

before it, and of his creatures, not daring the reports of
my tongue.

Lo. E. This is the first truth that ere thine own tongue
was guiltie of.

Par. What the diuell should moue mee to vndertake
the recouerie of this drumme, being not ignorant of the
impoſsibility, and knowing I had no ſuch purpose ? I
muſt giue my ſelfe ſome hurts, and ſay I got them in ex-
ploit: yet flight ones will not carrie it. They will ſay,
came you off with so little? And great ones I dare not
giue, wherefore what's the inſtance. Tongue, I muſt put
you into a Butter-womans mouth, and buy my ſelfe an-
other of Baiazeſts Mule, if you prattle mee into these
perilleries.

Lo. E. Is it possible he should know what he is, and
be that he is.

Par. I would the cutting of my garments wold ſerue
the turne, or the breaking of my Spanish ſword.

Lo. E. We cannot affoord you so.

Par. Or the baring of my beard, and to ſay it was in
ſtratagem.

Lo. E. 'Twould not do.

Par. Or to drowne my cloathes, and ſay I was ſtript.

Lo. E. Hardly ſerue.

Par. Though I ſwere I leapt from the window of the
Citadell.

Lo. E. How deepe ?

Par. Thirty ſadome.

Lo. E. Three great oathes would ſcarie make that be
beleeued.

Par. I would I had any drumme of the enemies, I
would ſware I recouer'd it.

Lo. E. You shall heare one anon.

Par. A drumme now of the enemies.

Alarum within.

Lo. E. Threca movonſus, cargo, cargo, cargo.

All. Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo.

Par. O ransome, ransome,

Do not hide mine eyes.

Inter. Boskos thronuſdo boskos.

Par. I know you are the Muskes Regiment,

And I shall loofe my life for want of language.

If there be heere German or Dane, Low Dutch,

Italian, or French, let him ſpeake to me,

Ile diſcouer that, which I shall vndo the Florentine.

Int. Boskos vanvado, I vnderstand thee, & can ſpeak
thy tongue: Kerelybonto fir, betake thee to thy faith, for
ſeuenteene ponyards are at thy boſome.

Par. Oh.

Inter. Oh pray, pray, pray,

Manka reuania dulche.

Lo. E. Oſcorbidulchos volinorco.

Int. The Generall is content to ſpare thee yet,

And hoodwinkt as thou art, will leade thee on

To gather from thee. Haply thou mayſt informe
Something to faue thy life.

Par. O let me liue,

And all the ſecrets of our campe Ile ſhow;

Their force, their purpofes: Nay, Ile ſpeake that,

Which you will wonder at.

Inter. But wilt thou faithfully ?

Par. If I do not, damme me.

Inter. Acordo limita.

Come on, thou are granted ſpace.

Al short Alarum within.

X 3

Exit

Lo. E.

All's Well that ends Well.

246

L.E. Go tell the Count Rufflion and my brother,
We have caught the woodcocke, and will keepe him
Till we do heare from them.
(musled)

Sol. Captaine I will.

L.E. A will betray vs all vnto our felues,
Informe on that.

Sol. So I will fir.

L.E. Till then He keepe him darke and safely lockt.

Exit

Enter Beriram, and the Maide called
Diana.

Ber. They told me that your name was Fontybell.

Dias. No my good Lord, Diana.

Ber. Titled Goddeffe,

And worth it with addition : but faire foule,

In your fine frame hath loue no qualitie?

If the quicke fire of youth light not your minde,

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 fterne,

And now you should be as your mother was

When your sweet selfe was got.

Dias. She then was honest,

Ber. So should you be.

Dias. No :

My mother did but dutie, such (my Lord)

As you owe to your wife.

Ber. No more a'that :

I prethee do not ftrie againft my vowes :

I was compell'd to her, but I loue thee

By loues owne sweete conftraint, and will for euer

Do thee all rights of felence.

Dias. I fo you ferue vs

Till we ferue you : But when you haue our Rofes,

You barely leue our thornes to pricke our felues,

And mocke vs with our bareneffe.

Ber. How hane I fworne.

Dias. It is not the many oathes that makes the truth,
But the plaine single vow, that is vow'd true:

What is not holie, that we fware not by,

But take the high'ft to witneffe : then pray you tell me,

If I should fware by loues great attributes,

I lou'd you deerely, would you beleeue my oathes,

When I did loue you ill ? This ha's no holding

To fware by him whom I proteft to loue

That I will worke againſt him. Therefore your oathes

Are words and poore conditions, but vnfeal'd

At leſt in my opinion.

Ber. Change it, change it :

Be not fo holy cruell : Loue is holie,

And my integritie ne're knew the craftes

That you do charge men with : Stand no more off,

But giue thy ſelfe vnto my ſicke deſires,

Who then recouers. Say thou art mine, and euer

My loue as it begins, ſhall ſo perfeuer.

Dias. I fee that men make rope's in ſuch a ſcarre,

That wee'l forſake our felues. Gine me that Ring.

Ber. Ile lend it thee my deere; but haue no power
To giue it from me.

Dias. Will you not my Lord?

Ber. It is an honour lingling to our houſe,
Bequeathed downe from manie Anceſtors,
Which were the greatest obloquie i'th world,
In me to loofe.

Dias. Mine Honors ſuch a Ring,

My chaſtities the Iewell of our houſe,

Bequeathed downe from many Anceſtors,
Which were the greatest obloquie i'th world,
In mee to loofe. Thus your owne proper wifedome
Brings in the Champion honor on my part,
Againſt your vaine affaault.

Ber. Heere, take my Ring,

My houſe, mine honor, yea my life be thine,

And Ile be bid by thee.

Dias. When midnight comes, knocke at my cham.

ber window :

Ile order take, my mother ſhall not heare.

Now will I charge you in the band of truth,

When you haue conquer'd my yet maiden-bed,

Remaine there but an houre, nor speake to mee :

My reaſons are moſt ſtrong, and you ſhall know them,

When backe againe this Ring ſhall be deliuer'd :

And on your finger in the night, Ile put

Another Ring, that what in time proceeds,

May token to the future, our paſt deeds.

Adieu till then, then faile not : you haue wonne

A wife of me, though there my hope be done.

Ber. A heauen on earth I haue won by wooing thee,

Di. For which, liue long to thank both heauen & me,
You may ſo in the end.

My mother told me iuſt how he would woo,

As if the ſate in's heart. She ſayes, all men

Have the like oathes : He had ſworne to marrie me

When his wife's dead : therefore Ile lye with him

When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are to braide,

Marry that will, Iliue and die a Maid :

Onely in this diſguſe, I think't no finne,

To cofen him that would vnliuſtly winne.

Exit

Enter the two French Captaines, and some two or three

Souſdiousrs.

Cap.G. You haue not giuen him his mothers letter.

Cap.E. I haue delu'red it an houre ſince, there is ſom
thing in't that ſlings his nature : for on the reading it,
he chang'd almoſt into another man.

Cap.G. He has much worthy blame laid upon him,
for flaking off ſo good a wife, and ſo few't a Lady.

Cap.E. Especially, hee hath incurred the euerlaſting
displeasure of the King, who had euen tun'd his bounty
to ſing happeilſe to him. I will tell you a thing, but
you ſhall let it dwell darkly with you.

Cap.G. When you haue ſpoken it 'tis dead, and I am
the graue of it.

Cap.E. Hee hath peruerted a young Gentlewoman
heere in Florence, of a moſt chaſſe renowned, & this night
he fleſhes his will in the ſpoyle of her honour: hee hath
giuen her his monumentall Ring, and thinkes him ſelſe
made in the vnchaſſe composition.

Cap.G. Now God delay our rebellion as we are our
felues, what things are we.

Cap.E. Meereſly our owne traitours. And as in the
common course of all reaſons, we ſill fee them reneale
themſelues, till they attaine to their abhorr'd ends: ſo
he that in this action contriues againſt his owne Nobi-
lity in his proper ſtreame, ore-flowes him ſelſe.

Cap.G. Is it not meant damnable in vs, to be Trump-
peters of our vnlawfull intents? We ſhall not then haue
his company to night?

Cap.E. Not till after midnight : for hee is dieted to
his houre.

Cap.G. That approaches apace: I would gladly haue
him fee his company anathomiz'd, that hee might take

All's Well that ends Well.

247

a measure of his owne judgements, wherein so curiously he had fet this counterfeit.

Cap. E. We will not meddle with him till he come; for his prefence muſt be the whip of the other.

Cap. G. In the meane time, what heare you of thefe Warres?

Cap. E. I heare there is an ouverture of peace.

Cap. G. Nay, I affuse you a peace concluded.

Cap. E. What will you Count Roffijlion do then? Will he trauaile higher, or returne againe into France?

Cap. G. I perceiue by this demand, you are not altogether of his councell.

Cap. E. Let it be forbid fir, so ſhould I bee a great deale of his act.

Cap. G. Sir, his wife ſome two months ſince fledde from his houſe, her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint In-ques le grand ; which holy vndertaking, with moſt au-ſtere landtimonie ſhe accompliſhed : and there refiding, the tenderneſſe of her Nature, became as a prey to her greeſe: in fine, made a groane of her laſt breath, & now ſhe fings in heauen.

Cap. E. How is this iuſtified?

Cap. G. The ſtronger part of it by her owne Letters, which makes her ſtorie true, euen to the poynt of her death: her death it ſelfe, which could not be her office to ſay, is come : was faithfully confirm'd by the Rector of the place.

Cap. E. Hath the Count all this intelligence?

Cap. G. I, and the particular confirmations, point from point, to the full arming of the veritie.

Cap. E. I am heartily forrie that hee bee gladd of this.

Cap. G. How mightily ſometimes, we make vs comfort of our loſſes.

Cap. E. And how mightily ſome other times, wee drowne our gaine in teares, the great dignitie that his valour hath here acquir'd for him, ſhall at home be en-countred with a ſhame as ample.

Cap. G. The webbe of our life, is of a mingled yarne, good and ill together : our vertues would bee proud, if our faults whipt them not, and our crimes would dif-paire if they were not cheriſh'd by our vertues.

### Enter a Melfenger.

How now? Where's your master?

Ser. He met the Duke in the ſtreet fir, of whom he hath taken a ſolemne leaue : his Lordſhippe will next morning for France. The Duke hath offered him Letters of commendations to the King.

Cap. E. They ſhall bee no more then needfull there, if they were more then they can commend.

### Enter Count Roffijlion.

Ber. They cannot be too ſwcreet for the Kings tart-nefſe, heere's his Lordſhip now. How now my Lord, I ſt not after midnight?

Ber. I have to night dispatch'd fixteene buſinesſes, a moneths length a peeece, by an abſtraet of ſucceffe : I haue congied with the Duke, done my adieu with his neereſt; buried a wife, mourn'd for her, writ to my La-die mother, I am returning, ente, tain'd my Conuoy, & betweene theſe maine parcels of dispatch, affected ma-nicer needs; the laſt was the greatest, but that I haue not ended yet.

Cap. E. If the buſineſſe bee of any difficulty, and this morning your departure hence, it requires haſt of your

Lord dſhip.

Ber. I meane the buſineſſe is not ended, as fearing to heare of it hereafter: but ſhall we haue this dialogue betweene the Foole and the Soldiour. Come, bring forth this counterſet module, haſ deceiu'd mee, like a double-meaning Propheſier.

Cap. E. Bring him forth, haſ ſace i'th ſtockes al night poore gallant knaue.

Ber. No matter, his heeles haue deferu'd it, in vſur-ping his ſpurres ſo long. How does he carry himſeſe?

Cap. E. I haue told your Lordſhip already : The ſtockes carrie him. But to anſwer you as you would be vnderſood, hee weepes like a wench that had ſhed her milke, he hath confeſt himſeſe to Morgan, whom bee ſuppoſes to be a Friar, from the time of his remembrance to this very inſant diſafter of his ſetting i'th ſtockes : and what thinke you he hath confeſt?

Ber. Nothing of me, ha's a?

Cap. E. His confession is taken, and it ſhall bee read to his face, if your Lordſhippe be in't, as I beleeue you are, you muſt haue the patience to heare it.

### Enter Parolles with his Interpreter.

Ber. A plague vpon him, muſſeld, he can ſay nothing of me: huff, huff.

Cap. G. Hoodman comes: Portotartaroffa.

Inter. He calles for the tortures, what will you ſay without em.

Par. I will confefſe what I know without conſtraint, I ſye pinch me like a Paſty, I can ſay no more.

Int. Bosko Chinsurcho.

Cap. Boblibundo chiscur muſco.

Int. You are a merciful Generall : Our Generall bids you anſwer to what I ſhall aske you out of a Note.

Par. And truly, as I hope to liue.

Int. First demand of him, how many horſe the Duke is ſtrong. What ſay you to that?

Par. Fiuе or ſiue thouſand, but very weake and ven-ſeruiceable: the troops are all ſcattered, and the Com-manders verie poore rogues, vpon my reputation and credit, and as I hope to liue.

Int. Shall I ſet downe your anſwer ſo?

Par. Do, Ile take the Sacrament on't, how & which way you will: all's one to him.

Ber. What a paſſing ſlue is this?

Cap. G. Y'are deceiu'd my Lord, this is Mounſieur Parroſles the gallant militarift, that was his owne phraſe that had the whole theorieke of warre in the knot of his ſcarſe, and the praeſiſe in the chape of his dagger.

Cap. E. I will neuer truſt a man againe, for keeping his ſword cleane, nor beleeue he can haue euerie thing in him, by wearing his apparrell neatly.

Int. Well, that's ſet downe.

Par. Fiuе or ſi the ſouſand horſe I ſed, I will ſay true, or thereabouts ſet downe, for I ſpeake truth.

Cap. G. He's very neere the truth in this.

Ber. But I con him no thanks for't in the nature he delivers it.

Par. Poore rogues, I pray you ſay.

Int. Well, that's ſet downe.

Par. I humbly thanke you fir, a truth's a truth, the Rogues are maruailous poore.

Interp. Demaund of him of what ſtrength they are a foot. What ſay you to that?

Par. By my troth fir, if I were to liue this prefent houre, I will tell true. Let me ſee, Spurio a hundred & fifty,

All's Well that ends Well.

fiftie, Sebaftrian so many, Corambus so many, Iaques so many; Guiltian, Cosfino, Ledowicks, and Graty, two hundred fifty each: Mine owne Company, ChChristopher, Vaumond, Benty, two hundred fifty each: so that the mufter file, rotten and found, vppon my life amonts not to fiftteen thouand pole, halfe of the which, dare not shake the Snow from off their Caffockles, leaft they shake them- GLYPH<146>elues to peeces.

Ber. What shall be done to him?

Cap.G. Nothing, but let him haue thankes. Demand of him my condition : and what credite I haue with the Duke.

Int. Well that's fet downe : you shall demaund of him, whether one Captaine Dumaine bee it? Campe, a Frenchman: what his reputation is with the Duke, what his valour, honestie, and expertneſſe in warres: or whether he thinkes it were not poffible with well-waighing ſummes of gold to corrupt him to a reuolt. What ſay you to this? What do you know of it?

Par. I beſeech you let me anſwer to the particular of the intergatories. Demand them ſingly.

Int. Do you know this Captaine Dumaine?

Par. I know him, a was a Botchers Prentize in Paris, from whence he was whipt for getting the ſhrieues fool with childe, a dumbe innocent that could not ſay him nay.

Ber. Nay, by your leaue hold your hands, though I know his braines are forfeite to the next tile that falls.

Int. Well, is this Captaine in the Duke ofFlorences campe?

Par. Vpon my knowledge he is, and lowſe.

Cay.G. Nay looke not ſo vpon me: we shall heare of your Lord anon.

Int. What is his reputation with the Duke?

Par. The Duke knowes him for no other, but a poore Officer of mine, and writ to mee this other day, to turne him out a'th band. I thinke I haue his Letter in my pocket.

Int. Marry we'll search.

Par. In good ſadneſſe I do not know, either it is there, or it is vpon a ſfile with the Dukes other Letters, in my Tent.

Int. Heere'tis, heere's a paper, shall I reade it to you?

Par. I do not know if it be it or no.

Ber. Our Interpreter do's it well.

Cap.G. Excellently.

Int. Dian, the Counts a ſoole, and full of gold.

Par. That is not the Dukes letter fir : that is an aduertisement to a proper maide in Florence, one Diana, to take heede of the allurement of one Count Reſſillion, a foolish idle boy : but for all that very ruttifl. I pray you fir put it vp againe.

Int. Nay, Ile reade it firſt by your ſauour.

Par. My meaning i'tt I protest was very honest in the behalſe of the maid: for I knew the young Count to be a dangerous and laſcious boy, who is a whale to Virginitie, and devours vp all the fry it finds.

Ber. Damnable both-fides rogue.

Int. Let. When he ſwears oathes, bid him drop gold, and take it:

After he ſcores, he never payes the ſcore:
Halfe won is match well made, match and well make it,
He ne're payes after-debts, take it before,
And ſay a ſouldier (Dian) told thee this:
Men are to sell with, boyes are not to kis.

For count of this, the Counts a ſoole I know it,
Who payes before, but not when he does one it.

Thine as he vow'd to thee in thine ear e,
Paroelles.

Ber. He ſhall be whipt through the Armie with this time in's forehead.

Cap.E. This is your deuoted friend fir, the manifold Linguift, and the army-potent ſouldier.

Ber. I could endure any thing before but a Caë, and now he's a Cat to me.

Int. I perceiue fir by your Generals looks, wee ſhall be faine to hang you.

Par. My life fir in any caſe: Not that I am aſtraide to dye, but that my offences beeing many, I would repent out the remainder of Nature. Let me liue fir in a dungeon, i'th ſtockes, or any where, so I may liue.

Int. Wee'le fee what may bee done, so you confefle freely : therefore once more to this Captaine Dumaine: you haue anſwer'd to his reputation with the Duke, and to his valour. What is his honestie ?

Par. He will ſeale fir an Egge out of a Cloiſer: for rapes and rauiſments he paralels Neſtus. Hee profefſes not keeping of oaths, in breaking em he is ſtronger then Hercules. He will lye fir, with ſuch volubilitie, that you would thinke truth were a ſoole: drunkenneſſe is his beſt vertue, for he will be ſwine-drunke, and in his ſleepe he does little harme, ſaue to his bed-cloathes about him: but they know his conditions, and lay him in ſtraw. I haue but little more to ſay fir of his honesty, he has euemerie thing that an honest man ſhould not haue; what an honest man ſhould haue, he has nothing.

Cap.G. I begin to loue him for this.

Ber. For this deſcription of thine honestie ? A pox vpon him for me, he's more and more a Cat.

Int. What ſay you to his expertneſſe in warre?

Par. Faith fir, he's led the drumme before the English Tragedians: to belye him I will not, and more of his ſouldierſhip I know not, except in that Country, he had the honour to be the Officer at a place there called Mile-end, to inſtruct for the doubling of ſfiles, I would doe the man what honour I can, but of this I am not certaine.

Cap.G. He hath out-villain'd villanie ſo farre, that the rarité redeemes him.

Ber. A pox on him, he's a Cat ſtill.

Int. His qualities being at this poore price, I neede not to aske you, if Gold will corrupt him to reuolt.

Par. Sir, for a Cardceue he will ſell the fee-fimpleof his ſaluation, the inheritance of it, and cut th'intaile from all remainders, and a perpetuall ſucceſſion for it perpetually.

Int. What's his Brother, the other Captain Dumain?

Cap.E. Why do's he aske him of me ?

Int. What's he?

Par. E'ne a Crow a'th fame neſt: not altogether ſo great as the firſt in goodneſſe, but greater a great deale in euill. He excels his Brother for a coward, yet his Brother is reputed one of the beſt that is. In a retrete hee out- runnes any Lackey; marrie in comming on, hee ha's the Crampe.

Int. If your life be ſued, will you vndertake to betray the Florentine.

Par. I, and the Captaines of his horſe, Count Reſſillion.

Int. Ile whispe with the Generall, and knowe his pleasure.

Par. Ile no more drumming, a plague of all drummers, onely to ſeeue to deferue well; and to beguile the ſuppoſition

All's Well, that Ends Well.

251

fition of that launcious yong boy the Count, haue I run
into this danger: yet who would have suspected an am-
bash where I was taken?

Int. There is no remedy fir, but you muft dye : the Generall fayes, you that haue ſo traitorously difcouer'd the ſecrets of your army, and made ſuch poffiferous reports of men very nobly held, can ſerve the world for no hoffet ſve : therefore you muſt dye. Come headleſſman, off with his head.

Par. O Lord fir let me liue, or let me ſee my death.

Int. That ſhall you, and take your leaue of all your friends:

So, looke about you, know you any heere?

Count. Good morrow noble Captaine.

Lo.E. God bleſſe you Captaine Parolles.

Cap.G. God faue you noble Captaine.

Lo.E. Captain, what greeting will you to my Lord
Lafew? I am for France.

Cap.G. Good Captaine will you give me a Copy of
the ſonnet you wri to Diana in behalfe of the Count
Roffiſion, and I were not a verie Coward, I'd compell
it of you, but far you well.

Exeunt.

Int. You are vndone Captaine all but your ſcarfe,
that has a knot on't yet.

Par. Who cannot be cruſh'd with a plot?

Inter. If you could finde out a Countrie where but
women were that had receiued ſo much ſhame, you
might begin an impudent Nation. Fare yce well fir, I
am for France too, we ſhall ſpeake of you there. Exit

Par. Yet am I thankfull : if my heart were great
Twould burſt at this : Captaine Ile be no more,
But I will eate, and drinke, and ſleepe as ſoft

As Captaine ſhall. Simply the thing I am

Shall make me liue: who knowes himselfe a braggart

Let him ſeare this; for it will come to paffe,

That euery braggart ſhall be found an Aſſe.

Ruft ſword, coole bluſhes, and Parrolles liue

Safet in ſhame: being fooſ'd, by fooſ'rie thrive:

There's place and means for euery man aliume.

Ile after them.

Exit.

Enter Hellen, Widdow, and Diana.

Hel. That you may well perceiue I haue not
wrong'd you,

One of the greateſt in the Chriſtian world

Shall be my ſuretie: for whose throne 'tis needfull
Ere I can perſect mine intents, to kneele.

Time was, I did him a deſired office

Deere almost as his life, which gratitude.

Through flintie Tartars boſome would peepe forth,

And anſwer thankes. I duly am inſorm'd,

His grace is at Marcella, to which place

We haue conuenient conuoy: you muſt know

I am ſuppoſed dead, the Army breaking,

My husband hies him home, where heauen ayding,

And by the leaue of my good Lord the King,

Wee'l be before our welcome.

Wid. Gentle Madam,

You neuer had a ſeruant to whose ſeruic
Your busines was more welcome.

Hel. Nor your Mistris

Euer a friend, whose thoughts more truly laour to
Recompence your loue: Doubt not but heauen

Hath brought me vp to be your daugherſs dower,

As it hath fated her to be my motiue

And helper to a husband. But O ſtranger men,
That can ſuch ſweet ſve make of what they hate,
When ſawcie truſting of the cosin'd thoughts
Defiles the pitchy night, ſoluſt doth play
With what it loathes, for that which is away,
But more of this heereafter: you Diana,
Vnder my poore inſtructions yet muſt ſuffer
Something in my behalfe.

Dia. Let death and hoffetie

Go with your impoſitions, I am yours

Vpon your will to ſuffer.

Hel. Yet I pray you:

But with the word the time will bring on ſummer,

When Briars ſhall haue leanes as well as thornes,

And be as sweet as harpe: we must away,

Our Wagon is prepar'd, and time reuines vs,

All's well that ends well, ſtill the fines the Crowne;

What ere the course, the end is the renowne.

Exeunt

Enter Clowne, old Lady, and Laſew.

Laf. No, no, no, your ſonne was miſled with a ſnipt
taſtats ſellow there, whose villanous ſaffron wold haue
made all the vnbaſ'd and dowy youth of a nation in his
colour : your daughter-in-law had beene alute at this
houre, and your ſonne heere at home, more aduanc'd
by the King, then by that red-tail'd humble Bee I ſpeak
of.

La. I would I had not knowne him, it was the death
of the moſt vertuous gentlewoman, that euer Nature
had praiſe for creating. If she had pertaken of my ſleſh
and coſt mee the deereſt groanes of a mother, I could
not haue owed her a more rooted loue.

Laf. Twas a good Lady, 'twas a good Lady. Wee
may picke a thouſand ſallets ere wee light on ſuch ano-
ther hearbe.

Cla. Indeed fir ſhe was the ſweete Margerom of the
ſallet, or rather the hearbe of grace.

Laf. They are not hearbes you knaue, they are nose-
hearbes.

Clowne. I am no great Nabuchadnezzar fir, I haue not
much skill in grace.

Laf. Whether doeſt then proſeſſe thy ſelſe, a knaue
or a foole?

Clo. A foole fir at a womans ſeruice, and a knaue at a
mans.

Laf. Your diſtinction.

Clo. I would couſen the man of his wife, and do his
ſeruice.

Laf. So you were a knaue at his ſeruice indeed.

Clo. And I would giue his wife my bauble fir to doe
her ſeruice.

Laf. I will ſubſcribe for thee, thou art both knaue
and foole.

Clo. At your ſeruice.

Laf. No, no, no.

Clo. Why fir, if I cannot ſerue you, I can ſerue as
great a prince as you are.

Laf. Whose that, a Frenchman?

Clo. Faith fir a has an English maine, but his fifſno-
mie is more hotter in France then there.

Laf. What prince is that?

Clo. The blacke prince fir, alias the prince of darke-
nefle, alias the diuell.

Laf. Hold thee there's my purſe, I giue thee not this
to ſuggeſt thee from thy maſter thou talk't off, ſerue
him ſtill.

Clow

252

All's Well that ends Well.

Clo. I am a woodland fellow fir, that alwaies loued a great fire, and the mafter I speak of euer keeps a good fire, but fure he is the Prince of the world, let his Nobilitie remaine in's Court. I am for the houfe with the narrow gate, which I take to be too little for pompetoe enter : some that humble themfelues may, but the manie will be too chill and tender, and theyle bee for the flowrie way that leads to the broad gate, and the great fire.

Laf. Go thy waies, I begin to bee a wearie of thee, and I tell thee fo before, becaufe I would not fall out with thee. Go thy wayes, let my horces be wel look't too, without any trickes.

Clo. If I put any trickes vpon em fir, they shall bee Iades trickes, which are their owne right by the law of Nature. exit

Laf. A fhrewd knaue and an vnhappie.

Lady. So ait. My Lord that's gone made himſelfe much ſport out of him, by his authoritie hee remaines heere, which he thinkes is a pattent for his ſawcineſſe, and indeede he has no pace, but runnes where he will.

Laf. I like him well, 'tis not amiffet and I was about to tell you, ſince I heard of the good Ladies death, and that my Lord your ſonne was vpon his returne home. I moued the King my maſter to ſpeake in the behalſe of my daughter, which in the minoritie of them both, his Maieftie out of a ſelſe gracious remembrance did firſt propose, his Highneſſe hath promis'd me to doe it, and to ſtoppe vp the disſpleasure he hath conceiued againstſt your ſonne, there is no ſitter matter. How do's your Ladyſhip like it?

La. With verie much content my Lord, and I wiſh it happily effect'd.

Laf. His Highneſſe comes poſt from Marcellus, of as able bodie as when he number'd thirty, a will be heere to morrow, or I am deceiu'd, by him that in ſuch intel-glicity hath ſeldome fail'd.

La. Irreioyces me, that I hope I ſhall fee him ere I die. I haue letters that my ſonne will be heere to night: I ſhall beſeech your Lordſhip to remaine with mee, till they meete together.

Laf. Madam, I was thinking with what manners I might safely be admitted.

Lad. You neede but pleade your honourable priuledge.

Laf. Ladie, of that I haue made a bold charter, but I thanke my God, it holds yet.

Enter Clowne.

Clo. O Madam, yonders my Lord your ſonne with a patch of veluet on's face, whether there bee a ſcar vnde'r or no, the Veluet knowes, but 'tis a goodly patch of Veluet, his left cheeke is a cheeke of two pile and a halfe, but his right cheeke is worne bare.

Laf. A ſcarre nobly got,
Or anoble ſcarre, is a good liu'rie of honor,
So belike is that.

Clo. But it is your carbinado'd face.

Laf. Let vs goe fee
your ſonne I pray you, I long to talke
With the young, noble ſouldier.

Clowne. 'Faith there's a dozen of em, with delicate fine hats, and moſt courteous feathers, which bow the head, and nod at euerie man.

Exeunt

Actus Quintus.

Enter Hellen, Widdow, and Diana, with
two Attendants.

Hel. But this exceeding poſing day and night,
Muſt wear your ſpirits low, we cannot helpe it:
But ſince you haue made the daies and nights as one,
To weare your gentle limbes in my affayres,
Be bold you do ſo grow in my requitall,
As nothing can vnroote you. In happie time,

Enter a gentle Aſtringer.

This man may helpe me to his Maieftieſe care,
If he would ſpend his power. God faue you fir.

Gent. And you.

Hel. Sir, I haue ſene you in the Court of France.

Gent. I haue beene ſometimes there.

Hel. I do preſume fir, that you are not falne
From the report that goes vpon your goodneſſe,
And therefore goaded with meſt ſharpe occasions,
Which lay nice manners by, I put you to
The vſe of your owne vertues, for the which
I ſhall continue thankefull.

Gent. What's your will?

Hel. That it will please you

To giue this poore petition to the King,

And ayde me with that ſtore of power you haue

To come into his prefence.

Gen. The Kings not heere.

Hel. Not heere fir?

Gen. Not indeed,

He hence remou'd laſt night, and with more haſt
Then is his vſe.

Wid. Lord how we loose our paines.

Hel. All's well that ends well yet,
Though time ſeeme ſo aduerſe, and meanes vnſit:
I do beſeech you, whither is he gone?

Gent. Marrie as I take it to Roffiſhion,

Whither I am going.

Hel. I do beſeech you fir,

Since you are like to fee the King before me,
Commend the paper to his gracious hand,
Which I preſume shall render you no blame,
But rather make you thanke your paines for it,
I will come after you with what good ſpeede
Our meanes will make vs meanes.

Gent. This Ile do for you.

Hel. And you ſhall finde your ſelfe to be well thankt
what e're falles more. We muſt to horſe againe, Go, go,
prouide.

Enter Clowne and Parrooles.

Par. Good Mr Lawateh giue my Lord Laſew this let-
ter, I haue ere now fir beene better knowne to you, when
I haue held familiaritie with freſher cloathes: but I am
now fir muddied in fortunes mood, and ſmell ſomewhat
ſtrong of her ſtrong displeasure.

Clo. Truely, Fortunes displeasure is but fluttuſh ſi
ſmell ſo strongly as thou ſpeak'st of: I will henceforth
eate no Fiſh of Fortunes but'ting. Pre thee allow the
winde.

Par. Nay you need not to ſtop your noſe fir: I ſpake
but by a Metaphor.

Clo. Indeed fir, if your Metaphor ſtinke, I will ſtop
my noſe, or againſt any mans Metaphor. Pre thee get thee
further.

All's Well that ends Well.

251

Par. Pray you fir deliver me this paper.

Clo. Foh, prethee stand away: a paper from fortunes clofe-stool, to giue to a Nobleman. Looke here he comes himselse.

Enter. Lafew.

Clo. Heere is a purre of Fortunes fir, or of Fortunes Cat, but not a Mufcat, that ha's falne into the vncleane fifth-pond of her displeasure, and as he fayes is muddied withall. Pray you fir, vſe the Carpe as you may, for he looks like a poore decayed, ingenious, foolifh, rafcally knaue. I doe pittie his diftrefſe in my smiles of comfort, and leaue him to your Lordship.

Par. My Lord I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly scratch'd.

Laf. And what would you haue me to doe? 'Tis too late to paire her nailles now. Wherein haue you played the knaue with fortune that ſhe should scratch you, who of her ſelfe is a good Lady,' and would not haue knaues thrue long vnder? There's a Cardecue for you: Let the luſtices make you and fortune friends; I am for other buſinſeſſe.

Par. I beſeech your honour to heare mee one single word.

Laf. you begge a single peny more: Come you ſhall ha't, faue your word.

Tar. My name my good Lord is Parrolles.

Laf. You begge more then word then. Cox my pafſion, giue me your hand: How does your drumme?

Par. O my good Lord, you were the firſt that found mee.

Laf. Was I inſooth? And I was the firſt that loſt thee.

Par. It lies in you my Lord to bring me in ſome grace for you did bring me out.

Laf. Out vpon thee knaue, doeſt thou put vpon mee at once both the office of God and the diuel: one brings thee in grace, and the other brings thee out. The Kings comming I know by his Trumpets. Sirrah, inquire further after me, I had talke of you laſt night, though you are a foole and a knaue, you ſhall eate, go too, follow.

Par. I prieſe God for you.

iFlourish. Enter King, old Lady, Lafew, the two French Lords, with attendants.

Kin. We loft a lewell of her, and our eſteeme
Was made much poorer by it: but your ſonne,
As mad in folly, lack'd the fence to know
Her eſtimation home.

Old La. 'Tis paſt my Liege,
And I beſeech your Maiefie to make it
Naturall rebellion, done i'th blade of youth,
When oyle and fire, too ſtrong for reafons force,
Ore-beares it, and burnes on.

Kin. My honour'd Lady,
I haue forgiuen and forgotten all,
Though my reuenges were high bent vpon him,
And watch'd the time to ſhoote.

Laf. This I muſt ſay,
But firſt I begge my pardon: the yong Lord
Did to his Maiefy, his Mother, and his Ladie,
Offence of mighty note; but to himſelfe
The greatest wrong of all. He loft a wife,
Whose beauty did aſtoniſh the ſurye
Of richſed eies: whole words all eares tooke captiue,
Whose decre perfection, hearts that ſcorn'd to ſerue,

Humbly call'd Miftris.

Kin. Praising what is loft,
Makes the remembrance deere. Well, call him hither,
We are reconcil'd, and the firſt view ſhall kill
All repetition: Let him not aske our pardon,
The nature of his great offence is dead,
And deeper then obliuion, we do burie
Th'incensing reliques of it. Let him approach
A ſtranger, no offender; and informe him
So 'tis our will he ſhould.

Gent. I ſhall my Liege.

Kin. What ſayes he to your daughter,
Hae you ſpoke ?

Laf. All that he is, hath reference to your Highines.

Kin. Then ſhall we haue a match. I haue letters ſent me, that ſets him high in fame.

Enter Count Bertram.

Laf. He looks well on't.

Kin. I am not a day of ſeason,
For thou maſſe ſee a ſun-ſhine, and a haile
In me at once: But to the brighteſt beames
Difſtraſted clouds giue way, to ſtand thou ſorth,
The time is faire againe.

Ber. My high repented blames
Deere Soueraigne pardon to me.
Kin. All is whole,
Not one word more of the consumed time,
Let's take the inſant by the forward top:
For we are old, and on our quick'ſt decrees
Th'inaudible, and noſeſſe ſoot of time
Steales, ere we can effect them. You remember
The daughter of this Lord?

Ber. Admiringly my Liege, at firſt
I flucke my choice vpon her, ere my heart
Durfst make too bold a herald of my tongue:
Where the impreſſion of mine eye enſixing,
Contempt his ſcornfull Perſpectiue did lend me,
Which warp the line, of euerie other fauour,
Scorn'd a faire colour, or expreſt it ſolne,
Extended or contracted all propoſons
To a moſt hideous obiect. Thence it came,
That ſhe whom all men prais'd, and whom my ſelfe,
Since I haue loft, haue lou'd; was in mine eye
The duſt that did offend it.

Kin. Well excus'd:
That thou didſt loue her, ſtrikes ſome ſcores away
From the great compt: but loue that comes too late,
Like a remorsſefull pardon flowely carried
To the great ſender, turnes a ſowre offence,
Crying, that's good that's gone: Our raiſ faults,
Make triuiall price of ſerious things we haue,
Not knowing them, vntill we know their graue.
Oſt our displeaſures to our ſelues vnſuſt,
Destroy our friends, and after weepe their duſt:
Our owne loue waking, cries to fee what's don,
While ſhamefull hate ſleepes out the afternoone.
Be this ſweet Helens knell, and now forget her.
Send forth your amorous token for faire Mandlin,
The maine conſents are had, and heere wee'l ſtay
To fee our widdowers ſecond marriage day:
Which better then the firſt, O decre heauen bleſſe,
Or, ere they meete in me, O Nature ceſſe!

Laf. Come on my ſonne, in whom my houſes name
Moft be digeſt: giue a ſavour from you
To ſparkle in the ſpirits of my daughter.

That

252

All's Well that ends Well.

That he may quickly come. By my old beard,
And eu'rie haire that's on't, *Helen* that's dead
Was a sweet creature: such a ring as this,
The laft that ere I tooke her leaue at Court,
I faw vpon her finger.

*Ber.* Hers it was not.

*King.* Now pray you let me see it. For mine eye,
While I was speaking, oft was faften'd too't:
This Ring was mine, and when I gaue it *Hellen*,
I bad her if her fortunes euer floode
Necesified to helpe, that by this token
I would releeue her. Had you that craft to reau'e her
Of what should flead her moft?

*Ber.* My gracious Soueraigne,
How ere it pleafes you to take it so,
The ring was neuer hers.

*Old La.* Sonne, on my life
I haue feene her weare it, and she reckon'd it
At her liues rate.

*Laf.* I am fure I faw her weare it.

*Ber.* You are deceu'd my Lord, she neuer faw it:
In Florence was it from a cafement throwne mee,
Wrap'd in a paper, which contain'd the name
Of her that threw it: Noble she was, and thought
I ftood ingag'd, but when I had subscrib'd
To mine owne fortune, and inform'd her fully,
I could not anſwer in that courſe of Honour
As she had made the ouerture, ſhe ceaſt
In heauie ſatifaſtacion, and would neuer
Receiue the Ring againe.

*Kim. Platus* himſelſe,

That knowes the tinſt and multiplying med'cine,
Hath not in natures myſterie more ſcience,
Then I haue in this Ring. 'Twas mine, 'twas *Helens*,
Who euer gaue it you: then if you know,
That you are well acquainted with your ſelfe,
Conſeſſe 'twas hers, and by what rough enforcement
You got it from her. She call'd the Saints to ſuſetie,
That ſhe would neuer put it from her finger,
Vnleſſe ſhe gaue it to your ſelfe in bed,
Where you haue neuer come: or ſent it vs.
Vpon her great diſaſter.

*Ber.* She neuer ſaw it.

*Kim.* Thou ſpeak'st it falſely: as I loue mine Honor,
And mak't connecturall ſeares to come into me,
Which I would faine ſhut out, if it ſhould proue
That thou art ſo inhumane, 'twill not proue ſo:
And yet I know not, thou didſt hate her deadly,
And ſhe is dead, which nothing but to cloſe
Her eyes my ſelfe, could win me to beleeue,
More then to fee this Ring. Take him away,
My fore-paſt proofes, how ere the matter fall
Shall taze my ſeares of little vanitie,
Hauing vainly fear'd too little. Away with him,
Weeſt lift this matter further.

*Ber.* If you ſhall proue
This Ring was euer hers, you ſhall as caſe
Proue that I husbanded her bed in Florence,
Where yet ſhe neuer was.

*Enter a Gentleman.*

*King.* I am wrap'd in diſmall thinkings.

*Gen. Gracious* Soueraigne,

Whether I haue beene too blame or no, I know not,
Here's a petition from a Florentine,
Who hath for foure or ſiue removles come ſhort,
To tender it her ſelfe. I vndertooke it,

Vanquif'd thereto by the faire grace and ſpeech
Of the poore ſuppliant, who by this I know
Is heere attending: her busineſſe lookes in her
With an importing visage, and ſhe told me
In a sweet verball breeſe, it did concerne
Your Highneſſe with her ſelfe.

*A Letter.*

*Upon his many proteſtations to marrie mee when his wife was dead, I blufh to ſay it, he wonne me. Now is the Count Ref ſillion a Widdower, his vowes are forſeted to mee, and my honors payed to him. Hee stole from Florence, taking leaue, and I follow him to his Countrey for Inſtice: Grant it me, O King, in you it beſt lies, otherwise a ſeducer ſlou vifhes, and a poore Maid is undone.*

*Diana Capilet.*

*Laf.* I will buy me a ſonne in Law in a faire, and toue
for this. Ilenone of him.

*Kim.* The heauens haue thought well on thee *Lafew*,
To bring forth this diſcou'rie, ſeeke these ſutors:
Go ſpeedily, and bring againe the Count.

*Enter Bertram.*

*I am a-feard the life of Hellen (Ladie)
Was ſowly ſnatcht.*

*Old La.* Now inſtice on the doers.

*King.* I wonder fir, fir, wiues are monſters to you,
And that you flye them as you ſware them Lordſhip,
Yet you deſire to marry. What woman's that?

*Enter Widdow, Diana, and Parrolles.*

*Dia.* I am my Lord a wretched Florentine,
Deriued from the ancient Capilet,
My ſuite as I do vnderſand you know,
And therefore know how faire I may be pittied.

*Wid.* I am her Mother fir, whoſe age and honour
Both ſuffer vnder this complaint we bring,
And both ſhall ceaſe, without your remedie.

*~ King. Come hether Count, do you know theſe Women?*

*Ber.* My Lord, I neither can nor will denie,
But that I know them, do they charge me further ?

*Dia.* Why do you looke so ſtrange vpon your wife?

*Ber.* She's none of mine my Lord.

*Dia.* If you ſhall marrie
You giue away this hand, and that is mine,
You giue away heauens vowes, and thofe are mine:
You giue away my ſelfe, which is knowne mine:
For I by vow am ſo embodied yours,
That ſhe which marries you, muſt marrie me,
Either both or none.

*Laf.* your reputation comes too ſhort for my daugh-
ter, you are no husband for her.

*Ber.* My Lord, this is a fond and deſp rate creature,
Whom fometime I haue laugh'd with: Let your highnes
Lay a more noble thought vpon mine honour,
Then for to thinke that I would ſinke it heere.

*Kim.* Sir for my thoughts, you haue them il to friend,
Till your deeds gaine them fairer: proue your honor,
Then in my thought it lies.

*Dian.* Good my Lord,
Aske him vpon his oath, if hee do's thinke
He had not my virginity.

*Kim.* What faſt thou to her?

*Ber.* She's impudent my Lord,
And was a common gameſter to the Campe.

*Dia.* He do's me wrong my Lord: If I were so,
He might haue bought me at a common price.

Do

All's Well, that Ends Well.

253

Do not beleeve him. Obehold this Ring,
Whofe highre fpeet and rich validitie
Did lacke a Paralell: yet for all that
He gaue it to a Commoner a'th Campe
If I be one.

Coms. He blufhes, and 'tis hit :
Of fixe preceding Anceftors, that ſemme
Confer'd by testament to' th' ſequent ifſue
Hath it beene owed and worne. This is his wife,
That Ring's a thouſand proofes.

King. Me thought you faide
You ſaw one heere in Court could witneſſe it.

Dra. I did my Lord, but loath am to produce
So bad an inſtrument, his names Parroſles.

Laf. I aw the man to day, if man he bee.

Kin. Finde him, and bring him hether.

Ref. What of him :

He's quoted for a moſt pe. ſidious ſlaue
With all the ſpots a'th world, taxt and debofh'd,
Whofe nature fickens : but to ſpeake a truth,
Am I, or that or this for what he'l vtter,
That will ſpeake any thing.

Kin. She hath that Ring of yours.

Rof. I thinke ſhe has; certaine it is I lyk'd her,
And boorded 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 fancies courſe

Are moſtues of more fancie, and in fine,
Her infuſite comming with her moderne grace,
Subdu'd me to her rate, the got the Ring,

And I had that which any inferiour might
At Market price haue bought.

Dia. I muſt be patient :

You that haue turn'd off a firſt ſo noble wife,
May iuſtly dyet you. I pray you yet,
(Since you lacke vertue, I will loose a husband)

Send for your Ring, I will returne it home,
And giue me mine againe.

Rof. I haue it not.

Kin. What Ring was yours I pray you?

Dian. Sir much like the fame vpon your finger.

Kin. Know you this Ring, this Ring was his of late.

Dia. And this was it I gaue him being a bed.

Kin. The ſtory then goes false, you threw it him

Out of a Caſement,

Dia. I haue ſpoke the truth.

Enter Parroſles.

Rof. My Lord, I do confefſe the ring was hers.

Kin. You boggle ſhrewdly, euery feather ſtarts you :
Is this the man you ſpeake of?

Dia. I, my Lord.

Kin. Tell me firrah, but tell me true I charge you,

Not fearing the diſpleasure of your maſter :
Which on your iuſt proceeding, Ile keepe off,

By him and by this woman heere, what know you ?

Par. So pleafe your Maiefy, my maſter hath bin an
honourable Gentleman. Trickers hee hath had in him,
which Gentlemen haue.

Kin. Come, come, to' th' purpose : Did hee loue this
woman?

Par. Faith fir he did loue her, but how.

Kin. How I pray you?

Par. He did loue her fir, as a Gent. loues a Woman.

Kin. How is that?

Par. Helou'd her fir, and lou'd her not.

Kin. As thou art a knaue and no knaue, what an equi-

uocall Companion is this ?

Par. I am a poore man, and at your Maieflies com-
mand.

Laf. Hee's a good drumme my Lord, but a naughtie
Orator.

Diact. Do you know he promiſt me marriage?

Par. Faith I know more then Ile ſpeake.

Kin. But wilt thou not ſpeake all thou knowſt?

Par. Yes ſo pleafe your Maiefy: I did goe betweene
them as I faid, but more then that he loued her, for in-
deede he was madde for her, and talkt of Sathán, and of
Limbo, and of Furies, and I know not what: yet I was in
that credit with them at that time, that I knewe of their
going to bed, and of other motions, as promiſing her
marriage, and things which would deriue mee ill will to
ſpeake of, therefore I will not ſpeake what I know.

Kin. Thou haſt ſpoken all already, vnleſſe thou canſt
ſay they are married, but thou art too fine in thy evidence,
therefore ſtand afide. This Ring you ſay was yours.

Dia. I my good Lord.

Kin. Where did you buy it? Or who gaue it you?

Dia. It was not giuen me, nor I did not buy it.

Kin. Who lent it you?

Dia. It was not lent me neither.

Kin. Where did you finde it then?

Dia. I found it not.

Kin. If it were yours by none of all theſe wayes,
How could you giue it him?

Dia. I neuer gaue it him.

Laf. This womans an eafie gloue my Lord, the goes
off and on at pleafure.

Kin. This Ring was mine, I gaue it his firſt wife.

Dia. It might be yours or hers for ought I know.

Kin. Take her away, I do not like her now,

To prifon with her : and away with him,
Vnleſſe thou telft me where thou hadſt this Ring,

Thou dieſt within this houre.

Dia. Ile neuer tell you.

Kin. Take her away.

Dia. Ile put in baile my liedge.

Kin. I thinke thee now ſome common Custome,

Dia. By Ioue if euer I knew man 'twas you.

King. Wherefore haſt thou accuſde him al this while,

Dia. Because he's guiltie, and he is not guilty :

He knowes I am no Maid, and hee l'ſware too't :
Ile l'ſware I am a Maid, and he knowes not.

Great King, I am no ſtrumpet, by my life,
I am either Maid, or else this old mans wife.

Kin. She does abuse our eares, to prifon with her.

Dia. Good mother fetch my bayle. Stay Royall fir,
The leweller that owes the Ring is ſent for,
And he ſhall ſurety me. But for this Lord,
Who hath abus'd me as he knowes himſelfe,
Though yet he neuer harm'd me, heere I quit him.

He knowes himſelfe my bed he hath deſil'd,
And at that time he got his wife with childe :

Dead though ſhe be, ſhe feeles her yong one kiſſe :

So there's my riddle, one that's dead is quicke,
And now behold the meaning.

Enter Hellen and Widdow.

Kin. Is there no exorcifl

Beguiles the truer Office of mine eyes?

Is'treall that I ſee ?

Hel. No my good Lord,

Y

Tis

Alls Well, that Ends Well.

254

'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see,
The name, and not the thing.

Ref. Both, both, O pardon.

Hel. Oh my good Lord, when I was like this Maid,
I found you wondrous kinde, there is your Ring,
And looke you, heeres your letter: this it fayes,
When from my finger you can get this Ring,
And is by me with childe, &c. This is done,
Will you be mine now you are doubly wonne?

Ref. If she my Liege can make me know this clearly,
Ile loue her dearely, cuer, cuer dearly.

Hel. If it appeare not plaine, and proue vntrue,
Deadly divorce step betweene me and you.

O my deere mother do I see you liuing?

Laf. Mine eyes smell Onions, I shall weepe anon:
Good Tom Drumme lend me a handkercher.

So I thanke thee, waite on me home, Ile make sport with
thee: Let thy curfies alone, they are scuruy ones.

King Let vs from point to point this ftorie know,
To make the euen truth in pleasure flow:

If thou beest yet a fresh vncropped flower,
Choose thou thy husband, and Ile pay thy dower.

For I can guesse, that by thy honest ayde,
Thou keptst a wife her selfe, thy selfe a Maide.

Of that and all the progrefse more and lesse,
Refolduedly more leasure shall expresse:

All yet seemes well, and if it end so meete,
The bitter paft, more welcome is the sweet.

Flourish.

The Kings a Begger, now the Play is done,
All is well ended, if it is fuite be wonne,
That you expresse Content: which we will pay,
With arift to please you, day exceeding day:
Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts,
Your gentle hands lend vs, and take our hearts. Exeunt omne.

FINIS.

Twelfe Night, Or what you will.

Actus Primus, Scena Prima.

Enter Orfino Duke of Illyria, Curio, and other Lords.

Duke.

I F Muſicke be the food of Loue, play on,|
Gine me excelle of it that ſurſetting,
The appetite may ſicken, and ſo dye.
That traine agen, it had a dying fall:
O, it came ore my care, like the ſweet found
That breathes vpon a banke of Violets;
Stealing, and giuing Odour. Enough, no more,
'Tis not ſo ſweet now, as it was before.
O P[er]ſit of Loue, how quicke and freshn arc thou,
That notwithstanding thy capacitie,
Receiueth as the Sea. Nought enters there,
Of what validity, and pitch to ere,
But ſalles into abatement, and low price
Even in a minute; ſo full of ſhapes is fancie,
That it alone, is high ſantastical.
Cu. Will you go hunt my Lord?

Cu. Why do you hunt my Lord?

Du. What Curio?

Cu. The Hart.

Du. Why so I do, the Nobleft that I haue:
O when mine eyes did see Olimna firſt,
Me thought ſhe purg'd the ayre of peſilence;
That inſtant was I turn'd into a Hart,
And my deſires like fell and cruell hounds,
Ere ſince purſue me. How now what newes from her?

Enter Valentine.

Val. So please my Lord, I might not be admitted,
But from her handmaid do returne this anſwer:
The Element it ſelfe, till ſeuen yeares heate,
Shall not behold her face at ample view:
But like a Cloyſtreſſe ſhe will vailed walke,
And water once a day her Chamber round
With eye-offending brine: all this to ſeafon
A brothers dead loue, which ſhe would keepe fresh
And laſting, in her ſad remembrance.

Du. O the that hath a heart of that fine frame
To pay this debt of loue but to a brother,
How will the loue, when the rich golden ſhaft
Hath kill'd the flocke of all affections ſelfe
That lie in her. When Liuer, Braine, and Heart,
These ſoueraigne thrones, are all supply'd and fill'd
Her ſweete perfections with one ſelfe king :
Away before me, to ſweet beds of Flowres,
Loue-thoughts lyer rich, when canopy'd with bowres.
Exenunt

Scena Secunda.

Enter Viola, a Captaine, and ſaylors.

Vio. What Country (Friends) is this?

Cap. This is Illyria Ladie.

Vio. And what should I do in Illyria?

My brother he is in Elizium,
Perchance he is not drown'd: What thinke you ſaylors?

Cap. It is perchance that you your ſelfe were ſaued.

Vio. O my poore brother, and ſo perchance may be.

Cap. True Madam, and to comfort you with chance,
Aflure your ſelfe, after our ſhip did split,
When you, and those poore number ſaued with you,
Hung on our driuing boare: I ſaw your brother
Moft prouident in perill, binde himſelfe,
(Courage and hope both teaching him the practice)
To a ſtting Maſte, that liu'd vpon the ſea:
Where like Orion on the Dolphines backe,
I ſaw him hold acquaintance with the waeus,
So long as I could ſee.

Vio. For ſaying so, there's Gold:
Mine owne eſcape vnſoldeth to my hope,
Where to thy ſpeech ſerues for authoritie
The like of him. Know ſt thou this Countrey?

Cap. I Madam well, for I was bred and borne
Not three houres trauaile from this very place.

Vio. Who gouernes heere?

Cap. A noble Duke in nature, as in name.

Vio. What is his name?

Cap. Or ſino.

Vio. Or ſino: I haue heard my father name him.
He was a Batchellor then.

Cap. And so is now, or was ſo very late :
For but a month ago I went from hence,
And then 'twas fresh in murmure (as you know
What great ones do, the leſſe will prattle of.)
That he did ſeeke the loue of faire Olimia.

Vio. What's ſhre?

Cap. A vertuous maid, the daughter of a Count
That dide ſome tweluemonth ſince, then leauing her
In the protection of his ſonne, her brother,
Who ſhortly alſo dide: for whoſe deere loue
(They ſay) ſhe hath abiur'd the fight
And company of men.

Vio. O that I ſeru'd that Lady,
And might not be deliuered to the world

Y 2

Till

256 Twelfth Night, or, What you will.

Till I had made mine owne occasion mellow
What my eftate is.

Cap. That were hard to compasse,
Because she will admit no kinde of suite,
No, not the Dukes.

Vio. There is a faire behauiour in thee Capraine,
And though that nature, with a beautcous wall
Doth oft cloſe in pollution: yet of thee
I will beleeeue thou haſt a minde that suites
With this thy faire and outward characteſter.
I prethee (and Ile pay thee bounteouſly)
Conceale me what I am, and be my ayde,
For ſuch diſguſe as haply ſhall become
The forme of my intent. Ile ferue this Duke,
Thou ſhalt preſent me as an Eunuch to him,
It may be worth thy paines: for I can ſing,
And ſpeake to him in many forts of Muficke,
That will allow me very worth his ſeruice.
What eſſe may hap, to time I will commit,
Onely ſhape thou thy ſilence to my wit.

Cap. Be you his Eunuch, and your Mute Ile bee,
When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not fee.

Vio. I thanke thee: Lead me on.

Exeunt

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Sir Toby, and Maria.

Sir To. What a plague meanes my Neece to take the
death of her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemie to
life.

Mar. By my troth fir Toby, you muſt come in earlier
a nights: your Cofin, my Lady, takes great exceptions
to your ill houres.

To. Why let her except, before excepted.

Ma. I, but you muſt confine your ſelfe within the
modest limits of order.

To. Conſine? Ile confine my ſelfe no finer then I am:
theſe cloathes are good enough to drinke in, and ſo bee
theſe boors too: and they be not, let them hang them-
felues in their owne straps.

Ma. That quaffing and drinking will vndoe you: I
heard my Lady talke of it yefterday: and of a ſooliſh
knight that you brought in one night here, to be hir woer

To. Who, Sir Andrew Ague-cheeke?

Ma. I he.

To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.

Ma. What's that to th' purpoye?

To. Why he's three thouſand ducates a yeare.

Ma. I, but hee'l haue but a yeare in all theſe ducates:
He's a very ſoole, and a prodigall.

To. Fie, that you'l ſay ſo: he playes o'th Viol-de-ga boys,
and ſpeaks three or four languages word for word
without booke, & hath all the good gifts of nature.

Ma. He hath indeed, almoſt naturall: for beſides that
he's a ſoole, he's a great quarreller: and but that hee hath
the gift of a Coward, to allay the guſt he hath in quarreling,
tis thought among the prudent, he would quickly
haue the gift of a graue.

Tob. By this hand they are ſcoundrels and ſubſtra-
ctors that ſay ſo of him. Who are they?

Ma. They that adde moreour, hee's dranke nightly
in your company.

To. With drinking healths to my Neece: Ile drinke

to her as long as there is a paſſage in my throat, & drinke
in Illyria: he's a Coward and a Coyſtrill that will not
drinke to my Neece: till his braines turne o'th' too, like a
pariſh top. What wench? Caſtiliano vulgo: for here com
Sir Andrew Agueface.

Enter Sir Andrew.

And. Sir Toby Belch. How now fir Toby Belch?

To. Sweet fir Andrew.

And. Bleſſe you faire Shrew.

Mar. And you too fir.

Tob. Accoſt Sir Andrew, accoſt.

And. What's that?

To. My Neeces Chamber-maid.

Ma. Good Miftris accoſt, I deſire better acquaintance

Ma. My name is Mary fir.

And. Good miftris Mary, accoſt.

To. You miſtake knight: Accoſt, is front her, boord
her, woe her, aſſayle her.

And. By my troth I would not vndertake her in this
company. Is that the meaning of Accoſt?

Ma. Par you well Gentlemen.

To. And thou let part ſo Sir Andrew, would thou
mightſt neuer draw ſword agen.

And. And you part ſo miftris, I would I might neuer
draw ſword agen: Faire Lady, doe you thinke you haue
fooles in hand?

Ma. Sir, I haue not you by't hand.

An. Marry but you ſhall haue, and heeres my hand.

Ma. Now fir, thought is free: I pray you bring your
hand to'th Buttry barre, and let it drinke.

An. Wherefore (ſweet-heart?) What's your Meta-
phor?

Ma. It's dry fir.

And. Why I thinke ſo: I am not ſuch an aſſe, but I
can keepe my hand dry. But what's your ieſt?

Ma. A dry ieſt Sir.

And. Are you full of them?

Ma. I, Sir, I haue them at my fingers ends: marry now
I let go your hand, I am barren. Exit Maria.

To. O knight, thou lackſt a cup of Canarie: when did I fee theſe ſo put downe?

An. Neuer in your life I thinke, waleſſe you fee Canarie put me downe: mee thinkes ſometimes I haue no more wit then a Chriſtian, or an ordinary man ha's: but I am a great cater of beefe, and I belceue that does harme to my wit.

To. No queſtion.

An. And I thought that, I'de forſweare it. Ile ride
home to morrow fir Toby.

To. Pur-quoy my deere knight?

An. What is purquoy? Do, or not do? I would I had beſtowed that time in the tongues, that I haue in fencing dancing, and beare-bayting: O had I but followed the Arts.

To. Then had ſtou thou had an excellent head of haire.

An. Why, would that haue mended my haire?

To. Paſt question, for thou ſeeth it will not coole my
An. But it becomſ we well enough, doſt not? (nature)

To. Excellent, it hangs like flax on a diſtaffe: & I hope
to fee a hufwife take thee between her legs, & ſpin it on't.
An. Faith, Ile home to morrow fir Toby, your niece will
not be ſeene, or if ſhe be it's four to one, ſhe'l none of me:
the Connt himſelfe here hard by, wooes her.

To. Shee'll none o'th Count, ſhe'l not match abouſe his
degree, neither in eſtate, yeares, nor wit: I haue heard her
ſwear t. Tut there's life in't man.

And

257

And. He fay a moneth longer. I am a fellow o'th
flrangeit minde i'th world: I delight in Maskes and Re-
vels sometimes altogether.

To. Art thou good at thele kicke-chawfes Knight ?

And. As any man in Illyria, what fofe he, vnder
the degree of my betters, & yet I will not compare with
an old man.

To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight ?

And. Faith, I can cut a caper.

To. And I can cut the Mutton too't.

And. And I thinke I haus the backe-tricke, simply as
frong as any man in Illyria.

To. Wherefore are thele things hid? Wherefore haue
thele gifts a Curtaine before 'em? Are they like to take
dutly like misfris Mals picture? Why doft thou not goe
to Church in a Galliard, and come home in a Carrant?
My verie walke should be a figge: I would not so much
as make water but in a Sinke-a-pace: What doofe aft thou
meane? Is it a world to hide vertues in? I did thinke by
the excellent constitution of thy legge, it was form'd vn-
der the starte of a Galliard.

And. I, is this, and it does indifferent well in a
dam'd colour'd flocke. Shall we fit about some Reuel's ?

To. What shall we do? Thele: were we not borne vnder
Taurus?

And. Taurus? That fides and heart.

To. No fir, it is leggs and thighes: let me see thee ca-
per. Ha, higher, ha, ha, excellent.

Exeunt

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Valentine, and Viola in mars attire.

Val. If the Duke continue thele fauours towards you
Cefario, you are like to be much aduanc'd, he hath known
you but three dayes, and already you are no stranger.

Via. You either feare his humour, or my negligence,
that you call in question the continuance of his loue. Is
he inconflant fir, in his fauours. Val. No beleeue me.

Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants.

Via. I thanke you: heere comes the Count.

Duke. Who faw Cefario hoa?

Via. On your attendance my Lord heere.

Du. Stand you a-while aloofe. Cefario,
Thou knowft no leffe, but all: I hane vnclap'd
To theee the booke euen of my secret foule.
Therefore good youth, addreſſe thy gate vnto her,
Benot deme accefle, ſtand at her doores.
And tell them, there thy fixed foot fhall grow
Till thou haue audience.

Via. Sure my Noble Lord,

If he be so abandon'd to her forrow

As it is spoke, ſhe neuer will admit me.

Du. Be clamorous, and leafe all ciuill bounds,
Rather then make vnprofited returne,

Via. Say I do speake with her (my Lord) what then?

Du. O then, vnfold the pafſion of my loue,
Surprize her with difcourſe of my deere faith;
It fhall become thee well to act my woeſ:

She will attend it better in thy youth,
Then in a Nuntio's of more graue aſpect.

Via. I thinke not so, my Lord.

Du. Deere Lad, beleeue it;

For they fhall yet belye thy happy yeeres,
That fay thou art a man: Dianas lip
Is not more ſmooth, and rubious: thy ſmall pipe
Is as the maidens organ, ſhrill, and found,
And all is ſemblatiue a womans part.
I know thy constellation is right ape
For this affayre: ſome foure or ſiue attend him,
All if you will: for I my ſelfe am beſt
When leaſt in companie: proper well in this,
And thou ſhalt liue as freely as thy Lord,
To call his fortunes thine.

Via. He do my beſt

To woe your Lady: yet a batrefull ſtrife,
Who ere I woe, my ſelfe would be his wife.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quinta.

Enter Maria, and Clowne.

Ma. Nay, either tell me where thou haſt bin, or I will
not open my lippes ſo wide as a brſiſe may enter, in way
of thy excufe: my Lady will hang thee for thy abſence.

Clo. Let her hang me: hee that is well hang'd in this
world, needs to ſeare no colours.

Ma. Make that good.

Clo. He fhall ſee none to ſeare.

Ma. A good lenton anſwer: I can tell thee where y
faying was borne, of I ſeare no colours.

Clo. Where good misfris Mary?

Ma. In the warrs, & that may you be bold to ſay in
your foolerie.

Clo. Well, God giue them wifedome that haue it: &
thofe that are fooles, let them vſe their talents.

Ma. Yet you will be hang'd for being to long abſent,
or to be turn'd away: is not that as good as a hinging to
you?

Clo. Many a good hanging, preuents a bad marriage:
and for turning away, let himmer beare it out.

Ma. You are refolute then?

Clo. Not ſo neyther, but I am refol'd on two points

Ma. That if one breake the other will hold; or if both
breake, your gaskons fall.

Clo. Apt in good faith, very apt: we'll go thy way, if
fit Toby would leaue drinking, thou wert as witty a piece
of Eues ſleſh, as any in Illyria.

Ma. Peace you rogue, no more o'that: here comes my
Lady: make your excufe wifely, you were beſt.

Enter Lady Olivia, with Malusio.

Clo. Wit, and't be thy will, put me into good fooling:
thofe wits that thinke they haue thee, doe very oft proue
fooles: and I that am ſure I lacke thee, may paſſe for a
wife man. For what faies Quinapalus, Better a witty foole,
then a fool, ſh wir. God bleſſe thee Lady.

Ol. Take the foole away.

Clo. Do you not heare ſellowes, take away the Ladie.

Ol. Go too, y'are a dry foole: I'll no more of you: be-
fides you grow dif-honest.

Clo. Two faults Madona, that drinke & good counſell
wil amend: for giue the dry foole drink, then is the foole
not dry: bid the diſhoneſt man mend himſelf, if he mend,
he is no longer diſhoneſt; if hee cannot, let the Botcher
mend him: any thing that's mended, is but patch'd: vertue
that transſgreſſes, is but patcht with finne, and ſin that a-
mends, is but patcht with vertue. If that this ſimple
Sillogisme will ſerue, ſo: if it will not, what remedy?

Y 3

As

Twelfe Night, or, What you will.

258

As there is no true Cuckold but calamity, so beauties a flower; The Lady bad take away the foole, therefore I lay againe, take her away.

Ol. Sir, I bad them take away you.

Clo. Misprouffion in the highest degree. Lady, Cucullia non facit monachum : that's as much to say, as I weare not motley in my braine: good Madona, giue mee leaue to proue you a foole.

Ol. Can you do it?

Clo. Dexteriously, good Madona.

Ol. Make your proofe.

Clo. I muft catechize you for it Madona, Good my Mouse of vertue anſwer mee.

Ol. We'll fir, for want of other idlenesse, Ile bide your proofe.

Clo. Good Madona, why mournſt thou?

Ol. Good foole, for my brothers death.

Clo. I thinke his foule is in hell, Madona.

Ol. I know his foule is in heauen, foole.

Clo. The more foole (Madona) to mourne for your Brothers foule, being in heauen. Take away the Foole, Gentlemen.

Ol. What thinke you of this foole Maluolio, doth he not mend?

Mal. Yes, and ſhall do, till the pangs of death ſhake him: Inſirmity that decaies the wife, doth euermake the better foole.

Clow. God ſend you fir, a ſpeedie Inſirmity, for the better increasing your folly: Sir Toby will be ſworn that I am no Fox, but he wil not paffe his word for two pence that you are no Foole.

Ol. How ſay you to that Maluolio ?

Mal. I marwell your Ladyſhip takes delight in ſuch a barren raſcall: I ſaw him put down the other day, with an ordinary foole, that has no more braine then a ſtone. Looke you now, he's out of his gard already: vnles you laugh and minifter occafion to him, he is gag'd. I protest I take theſe Wifemen, that crow ſo at theſe ſet kinde of fooles, no better then the fooles Zanies.

Ol. O you are ſicke of ſelfe-loue Maluolio, and taſe with a diſtemper'd appetite. To be generous, guileſſe, and of free diſpoſition, is to take those things for Bird-bolts, that you deeme Cannon bullets: There is no ſlender in an allow'd foole, though he do nothing but rayle; nor no rayling, in a knowne diſcreet man, though hee do nothing but repreuſe.

Clo. Now Mercury indue thee with leafing, for thou ſpeak't ſwell of fooles.

Enter Maria.

Mar. Madam, there is at the gate, a young Gentleman, much desires to ſpeake with you.

Ol. From the Count Orſino, is it?

Ma. I know not (Madam) 'tis a faire young man, and well attended.

Ol. Who of my people hold him in delay ?

Ma. Sir Toby Madam, your kinsman.

Ol. Fetch him off I pray you, he ſpeakes nothing but madman: Fie on him. Go you Maluolio ; If it be at ſuit from the Count, I am ſicke, or not at home. What you will, to diſmife it.

Exit Malno.

Now you ſee fir, how your fooling growes old, & people diſlike it.

Clo. Thou haſt ſpoke for vs (Madona) as if thy eldeſt ſonne ſhould be a foole: who ſe ſcull, Ioue cramme with braines, for heere he comes.

Enter Sir Toby.

One of thy kin has a moſt weake Pia-mater.

Ol. By mine honor halſe drunke. What is he at the gate Cofin ?

To. A Gentleman.

Ol. A Gentleman? What Gentleman?

To. Tis a Gentleman heere. A plague o'the ſpickle herring: How now Sot.

Clo. Good Sir Toby.

Ol. Cofin, Cofin, how haue you come so earely by this Lethargie?

To. Letcherie, I defie Letchery : there's one at the gate.

Ol. Imarry, what is he?

To. Let him be the diuell and he will, I care not: give me faith ſay I. Well, it's all one.

Ol. What's a drunken man like, foole?

Clo. Like a drown'd man, a foole, and a madde man: One dranght aboue heate, makes him a foole, the ſecond maddes him, and a third drownes him.

Ol. Go thou and feeke the Crowner, and let him ſute o'my Coz: for he's in the third degree of drinke: hee's drown'd: go looke after him.

Clo. He is but mad yet Madona, and the foole ſhall looke to the madman.

Enter Maluolio.

Mal. Madam, yond young fellow ſweares hee will ſpeake with you. I told him you were ſicke, he takes on him to vnderſand ſo much, and therefore comes to ſpeak with you. I told him you were aſſleepe, he ſeems to haue a fore knowledge of that too, and therefore comes to ſpeake with you. What is to be faid to him Ladie, hee's fortified againſt any deniall.

Ol. Tell him, he shall not ſpeake with me.

Mal. Ha's beene told ſo: and hee ſayes heel ſtand at your doore like a ſheriffes poſt, and be the ſupporter to a bench, but hee'l ſpeake with you.

Ol. What kinde o'man is he ?

Mal. Why of mankindie.

Ol. What manner of man?

Mal. Of verie ill manner: hee'l ſpeake with you, will you, or no.

Ol. Of what perſonage, and yeeres is he?

Mal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor yong enough for a boy: as a ſquash is before tis a pefcod, or a Codding when tis almoſt an Apple: Tis with him in ſtanding wert, betweene boy and man. He is verie well-fauour'd, and he ſpeakes verie ſhrewſibly: One would thinke his mothers milke were ſcarſe out of him.

Ol. Let him approach: Call in my Gentlewoman.

Mal. Gentlewoman, my Lady calles.

Enter Maria.

Ol. Giue me my vaile: come throw it ore my face, Wee'l once more heare Orſinos Embaffie.

Enter Violenta.

Vio. The honorable Ladie of the houſe, which is ſicke

Ol. ſpeake to me, I shall anſwer for her: your will.

Vio. Moſt radiant, exquifite, and vnmatchable beaſtie. I pray you tell me if this bee the Lady of the houſe for Ineuer ſaw her. I would bee loath to caſt away my ſpeech: for beſides that it is excellently well pended, I have taken great paines to con it. Good Beauties, let mee ſaſtaine no ſcorne; I am very comptible, euen to the leaſt finifter vsage.

Ol. Whence came you fir?

Vio. I can ſay little more then I haue ſtudied, & that question's out of my part. Good gentle one, giue me modeſt affurance, if you be the Ladie of the houſe, that

["Twelfth Night, or What you will.", "may proceede in my speech,\nOl. Are you a Comedian?", "Vt. No my profound heart : and yet (by the verie\nphangs of malice, I fware) I am not that I play. Are you\nthe Ladie of the house?", "Ol. If I do not vurpe my selfe, I am.\nVt. Most certaine, if you are fhe, you do vurpe your\nreſſe: for what is yours to beſtowe, is, not yours to re-\nſeue. But this is from my Commiffion: I will on with\nmy ſpeech in your præife, and then ſhew you the heart of\nmy mesſage.", "Ol. Come to what is important in't: I forgiue you\nthe præſe.", "Vt. Alas, I tooke great paines to ſtudie it, and 'tis\nPoeticall.", "Vt. It is the more like to be feigned, I pray you keep\nit in. I heard you were fawey at my gates, & allow your\napproach rather to wonder at you, then to heare you. If\nyou be not mad, be gone : if you haue reaſon, be breeſe :\n'tis not that time of Moone with me, to make one in so\nskipping a dialogue.", "Ol. Will you hovſt fayle ſir, here lies your way.\nVt. No good ſwabber, I am to hull here a little lon-\nger. Some mollification for your Giant, ſwete Ladie;\ntell me your minde, I am a meſſenger.", "Ol. Sure you haue ſome hiddeous matter to deliuer,\nwhen the curſe of it is ſo ſcarefull. Speake your office.", "Vt. It alone concernes your eare: I bring no ouer-\nture of warre, no taxation of homage; I hold the Olyſſe\nin my hand: my words are as full of peace, as matter.", "Ol. Yet you began rudely. What are you?\nWhat would you?", "Vt. The rudenſe that hath appear'd in mee, haue I\nlearn'd from my entertainment. What I am, and what I\nwould, are as ſecret as maiden-head: to your eares, Di-\nuinity: to any others, prophanation.", "Ol. Giue vs the place alone.\nWe will heare this diuinitie. Now fir, what is your text?", "Vt. I am in ſweet Ladie.\nOl. A conſortable doſtline, and much may bee ſaide\nof it. Where lies your Text?", "Vt. In Orſinnes boſome.\nOl. In his boſome? In what chapter of his boſome?", "Vt. To anſwer by the method, in the firſt of his hart.\nOl. O, I haue read it: it is hereſe. Haue you no more\nto ſay?", "Vt. Good Madam, let me see your face.\nOl. Haue you any Commiffion from your Lord, to\nnegotiate with my face: you are now out of your Text:\nbut we will draw the Curtain, and ſhew you the picture.\nLooke you fir, ſuch a one I was this preſent: I ſt not well\ndone?", "Vt. Excellentl done, if God did all.\nOl. Tis in graine fir, 'twill endure winde and wea-\nther.", "Vt. Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white,\nNatures owne ſweer, and cunning hand laid on:\nLady, you are the cruell ſt ſhee alive,\nIf you will leade theſe graces to the graue,\nAnd leave the world no copie.", "Ol. O fir, I will not be so hard-hearted : I will giue\nout diuers ſeedules of my beautie. It ſhalbe Inuentoried\nand euery particle and vtenſile labell'd to my will: As,\nItem two lippes indifferent redde, Item two grey eyes,\nwith lids to them: Item, one necke, one chin, &c ſo forth.\nWere you ſent hither to præſe me?", "Ol. O, I will not be so hard-hearted : I will giue\nout diuers ſeedules of my beautie. It ſhalbe Inuentoried\nand euery particle and vtenſile labell'd to my will: As,\nItem two lippes indifferent redde, Item two grey eyes,\nwith lids to them: Item, one necke, one chin, &c ſo forth.\nWere you ſent hither to præſe me?", "Ol. I do know what you are, you are too proud :\nBut if you were the diuell, you are faire:\nMy Lord, and maſter loues you: O ſuch loue\nCould be but recompenc'd, though you were crown'd\nThe non-paroil of beautie.\nOl. How does he loue me?", "Ol. With adorations, ſertil teares,\nWith groanes that thunder loue, with ſighes of fire.\nOl. Your Lord does know my mind, I cannot loue him\nYet I ſuppofe him vertuous, know him noble,\nOf great eſtate, of fresh and ſtainleſſe youth;\nIn voyces well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant,\nAnd in dimension, and the shape of nature,\nA gracious perſon ; But yet I cannot loue him :\nHe might haue tooke his anſwer long ago.\nOl. If I did loue you in my maſters ſtame,\nWith ſuch a ſuffring, ſuch a deadly life:\nIn your deniall, I would finde no ſence,\nI would not vnderstand it.\nOl. Why, what would you?", "Ol. Make me a willow Cabine at your gate,\nAnd call vpon my ſoule within the house,\nWrite loyall Cantons of contemned loue,\nAnd ſing them lowd euen in the dead of night :\nHallow your name to the reuerberate hilles,\nAnd make the babling Gofſip of the aire,\nCry out Oliuina: O you ſhould not reſt\nBetweene the elements of ayre, and earth,\nBut you ſhould pittie me.\nOl. You might do much:\nWhat is your Parentage?", "Vt. Aboue my fortunes, yet my ſtate is well;\nI am a Gentleman.\nOl. Get you to your Lord:\nI cannot loue him : let him ſend no more,\nVnleſſe (perchance) you come to me againe,\nTo tell me how he takes it: Fare you well:\nI thanke you for your paines: ſpend this for mee.", "Vt. I am no ſeede poaſt, Lady; keepe your purſe,\nMy Maſter, not my ſelſe, lackeſt recompence.\nLoue make his heart of flint, that you ſhal loue,\nAnd let your ſeruour like my maſters be,\nPlac'd in contempt: Farwell ſayre cruelſe.\nOl. What is your Parentage?", "Vt. Aboue my fortunes, yet my ſtate is well;\nI am a Gentleman. Ile be ſworne thou art,\nThy tongue, thy face, thy limbes, aſtions, and ſpirit.\nDo giue thee ſiue-fold blazon : not too ſaſt: ſoft, ſoft,\nVnleſſe the Maſter were the man. How now?", "Vt. Euen so quickly may one catch the plague ?\nMe thinkes I feele this youths perfections\nWith an inuſible, and ſubtle ſlealth\nTo creepe in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.\nWhat hoo, Maluolto.\nEnter Maluolio.", "Mal. Heere Madam, at your ſeruice.\nOl. Run after that fame peuifh Meſſenger\nThe Countes man: he left this Ring behinde him\nWould I, or not: tell him, Ile none of it.\nDefire him not to flatter with his Lord,\nNor hold him vp with hopes, I am not for him :\nIf that the youth will come this way to morrow,\nIle giue him reaſons for't: hie thee Maluolio.\nMal. Madam, I will.\nOl. I do know what you are, you are too proud :\nBut if you were the diuell, you are faire:\nMy Lord, and maſter loues you: O ſuch loue\nCould be but recompenc'd, though you were crown'd\nThe non-paroil of beautie.\nOl. How does he loue me?", "Ol. I am in ſweet Ladie.\nOl. In Orſinnes boſome.\nOl. In his boſome? In what chapter of his boſome?", "Vt. To anſwer by the method, in the firſt of his hart.\nOl. O, I haue read it: it is hereſe. Haue you no more\nto ſay?", "Vt. Good Madam, let me see your face.\nOl. Haue you any Commiffion from your Lord, to\nnegotiate with my face: you are now out of your Text:\nbut we will draw the Curtain, and ſhew you the picture.\nLooke you fir, ſuch a one I was this preſent: I ſt not well\ndone?", "Vt. Excellentl done, if God did all.\nOl. Tis in graine fir, 'twill endure winde and wea-\nther.", "Vt. Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white,\nNatures owne ſweer, and cunning hand laid on:\nLady, you are the cruell ſt ſhee alive,\nIf you will leade theſe graces to the graue,\nAnd leave the world no copie.", "Ol. O fir, I will not be so hard-hearted : I will giue\nout diuers ſeedules of my beautie. It ſhalbe Inuentoried\nand euery particle and vtenſile labell'd to my will: As,\nItem two lippes indifferent redde, Item two grey eyes,\nwith lids to them: Item, one necke, one chin, &c ſo forth.\nWere you ſent hither to præſe me?", "Vt. I fee you what you are, you are too proud :\nBut if you were the diuell, you are faire:\nMy Lord, and maſter loues you: O ſuch loue\nCould be but recompenc'd, though you were crown'd\nThe non-paroil of beautie.\nOl. How does he loue me?", "Vt. With adorations, ſertil teares,\nWith groanes that thunder loue, with ſighes of fire.\nOl. Your Lord does know my mind, I cannot loue him\nYet I ſuppofe him vertuous, know him noble,\nOf great eſtate, of fresh and ſtainleſſe youth;\nIn voyces well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant,\nAnd in dimension, and the shape of nature,\nA gracious perſon ; But yet I cannot loue him :\nHe might haue tooke his anſwer long ago.\nOl. If I did loue you in my maſters ſtame,\nWith ſuch a ſuffring, ſuch a deadly life:\nIn your deniall, I would finde no ſence,\nI would not vnderstand it.\nOl. Why, what would you?", "Ol. Why, what would you?", "Ol. How does he loue me?", "Ol. With adorations, ſertil teares,\nWith groanes that thunder loue, with ſighes of fire.\nOl. Your Lord does know my mind, I cannot loue him\nYet I ſuppofe him vertuous, know him noble,\nOf great eſtate, of fresh and ſtainleſſe youth;\nIn voyces well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant,\nAnd in dimension, and the shape of nature,\nA gracious perſon ; But yet I cannot loue him :\nHe might haue tooke his anſwer long ago.\nOl. If I did loue you in my maſters ſtame,\nWith ſuch a ſuffring, ſuch a deadly life:\nIn your deniall, I would finde no ſence,\nI would not vnderstand it.\nOl. Why, what would you?", "Ol. Make me a willow Cabine at your gate,\nAnd call vpon my ſoule within the house,\nWrite loyall Cantons of contemned loue,\nAnd ſing them lowd euen in the dead of night :\nHallow your name to the reuerberate hilles,\nAnd make the babling Gofſip of the aire,\nCry out Oliuina: O you ſhould not reſt\nBetweene the elements of ayre, and earth,\nBut you ſhould pittie me.\nOl. You might do much:\nWhat is your Parentage?", "Vt. Aboue my fortunes, yet my ſtate is well;\nI am a Gentleman.\nOl. Get you to your Lord:\nI cannot loue him : let him ſend no more,\nVnleſſe (perchance) you come to me againe,\nTo tell me how he takes it: Fare you well:\nI thanke you for your paines: ſpend this for mee.", "Vt. I am no ſeede poaſt, Lady; keepe your purſe,\nMy Maſter, not my ſelſe, lackeſt recompence.\nLoue make his heart of flint, that you ſhal loue,\nAnd let your ſeruour like my maſters be,\nPlac'd in contempt: Farwell ſayre cruelſe.\nOl. What is your Parentage?", "Vt. Aboue my fortunes, yet my ſtate is well;\nI am a Gentleman.\nOl. Get you to your Lord:\nI cannot loue him : let him ſend no more,\nVnleſſe (perchance) you come to me againe,\nTo tell me how he takes it: Fare you well:\nI thanke you for your paines: ſpend this for mee.", "Vt. I am no ſeede poaſt, Lady; keepe your purſe,\nMy Maſter, not my ſelſe, lackeſt recompence.\nLoue make his heart of flint, that you ſhal loue,\nAnd let your ſeruour like my maſters be,\nPlac'd in contempt: Farwell ſayre cruelſe.\nOl. What is your Parentage?", "Vt. Aboue my fortunes, yet my ſtate is well;\nI am a Gentleman. Ile be ſworne thou art,\nThy tongue, thy face, thy limbes, aſtions, and ſpirit.\nDo giue thee ſiue-fold blazon : not too ſaſt: ſoft, ſoft,\nVnleſſe the Maſter were the man. How now?", "Vt. Euen so quickly may one catch the plague ?\nMe thinkes I feele this youths perfections\nWith an inuſible, and ſubtle ſlealth\nTo creepe in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.\nWhat hoo, Maluolto.\nEnter Maluolio.", "Mal. Heere Madam, at your ſeruice.\nOl. Run after that fame peuifh Meſſenger\nThe Countes man: he left this Ring behinde him\nWould I, or not: tell him, Ile none of it.\nDefire him not to flatter with his Lord,\nNor hold him vp with hopes, I am not for him :\nIf that the youth will come this way to morrow,\nIle giue him reaſons for't: hie thee Maluolio.\nMal. Madam, I will.\nOl. I do know what you are, you are too proud :\nBut if you were the diuell, you are faire:\nMy Lord, and maſter loues you: O ſuch loue\nCould be but recompenc'd, though you were crown'd\nThe non-paroil of beautie.\nOl. How does he loue me?", "Ol. What is your Parentage?\nAboue my fortunes, yet my ſtate is well;\nI am a Gentleman. Ile be ſworne thou art,\nThy tongue, thy face, thy limbes, aſtions, and ſpirit.\nDo giue thee ſiue-fold blazon : not too ſaſt: ſoft, ſoft,\nVnleſſe the Maſter were the man. How now?", "Vt. Euen so quickly may one catch the plague ?\nMe thinkes I feele this youths perfections\nWith an inuſible, and ſubtle ſlealth\nTo creepe in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.\nWhat hoo, Maluolto.\nEnter Maluolio.", "Mal. Heere Mad

261

for thy Lemon, hadst it?

Clo. I did impetios thy gratillity: for Maluolios noſe
is no Whip-tlocke. My Lady has a white hand, and the
Mermidons are no bottle-ale houſes.

An. Excellent: Why this is the beſt fooling, when
all is done. Now a ſong.

To. Come on, there is ſixe pence for you. Let's haue a ſong.

An. There's a teftrill of me too: if one knight give a
Clo. Would you haue a loue ſong, or a ſong of good
life?

To. A loue ſong, a loue ſong.

An. I, I. I care not for good life.

Clowne ſings.

O Miltris mine where are you voming?
O ſay and beare, your true loues coming,
That can (ing both high and low.
Trip no further prettie weeting.
Journeys end in louers meeting,
Every wife mans ſonne doth know.

An. Excellent good, iſaith.

To. Good, good.

Clo. What is loue, tis not heereaſier,
Prefent mirth, hath preſent laughter :
What's to come, is still uſwure.
In delay there lies no plentie,
Then come kiffe me sweet and iuventie,
Touls a ſaſſue will not endure.

Au. A mellifluous voyce, as I am true knight.

To. A contagious breath.

Au. Very weet, and contagious iſaith.

To. To heare by the noſe, it is dulcet in contagion,
But ſhall we make the Welkin dance indeed? Shall wee
rowe the night-Owle in a Catch, that will drawe three
ſoules out of one Weaer? Shall we do that?

And. And you loue me, let's doo't: I am dogge at a
Catch.

Clo. Byrlady fir, and some dogs will catch well.

To. An. Moſt certaine: Let our Catch be, *Thou Knane.*
Clo. Hold thy peace, thou Knane knight. I ſhall be con-
frain'd in't, to call thee knane, Knight.

An. Tis not the firſt time I haue conſtrained one to
call me knane. Begin foole: it begins, *Hold thy peace.*

Clo. I ſhall neuer begin if I hold my peace.

Au. Good iſaith: Come begin.

Catch ſung

Enter Maria.

Mar. What a catterwalling doe you keepe here ? If
my Ladie haue not call'd vp her Steward Maluolio, and
bid him turne you out of doors, neuer truſt me.

To, My Lady's a Catayan, we are politicians, Maluolios a Peg-a-ramſie, and Three merry men be wee. Am not I confanguinous? Am I not of her blood: tilly vally. Ladie, There dwells a man in Babylon, Lady, Lady.

Clo. Befrew me, the knights in admiraſble fooling.

An. I, he do's well enough if he be diſpo'd, and ſo
do I too: he does it with a better grace, but I do it more
naturall.

To. O the twelfe day of December.

Mar. For the loue o'God peace.

Enter Maluolio.

Mal. My maſters are you mad? Or what are you?
Have you no wit, manners, nor honestie, but to gabble
like Tinkers at this time of night? Do yee make an Ale-
houſe of my Ladies houſe, that ye ſqueak out your Cozi-
ers Catches without any mitigation or remorle of voice?
Is there no reſpect of place, perſons, nor time in you?

To. We did keepe time fir in our Catches, Snecke vp.

Mal. Sir Toby, I muſt be round with you. My Lady
bad me tell you, that though ſhe harbors you as her kinf-
man, ſhe's nothing ally'd to your diſorders. If you can
ſeparate your ſelfe and your miſdemeanors, you are wel-
cometo the houſe: if not, and it would plea you to take
leaue of her, ſhe is very willing to bid you farewell.

To. Farewell deere heart, ſince I muſt needs be gone.

Mar. Nay good Sir Toby.

Clo. His eyes do ſhow his dayes are almost done.

Mal. Is't euen ſo?

To. But I will neuer dye.

Clo. Sir Toby there you lye.

Mal. This is much credit to you.

To. Shall I bid him go.

Clo. What and if you do?

To. Shall I bid him go, and ſpare not?

Clo. Ono, no, no, no, you dare not.

To. Out o'tune fir, yelye: Art any more then a Stew-
ard? Doſt thou thinke becauſe thou art vertuous, there
ſhall be no more Cakes and Ale?

Clo. Yes by S. Anne, and Ginger ſhall bee hotte y'th
mouth too.

To. Th'art i'th. right. Goe fir, rub your Chaine with
crums. A ſtope of Wine Maria.

Mal. Miltris Mary, if you priz'd my Ladies ſauour
at any thing more then contempt, you would not giue
meanees for this vncauill rule; the ſhall know of it by this
hand.

Exit

Mar. Go shake your cares.

An. I were as good a deede as to drink when a mans
a hungrie, to challenge him the field, and then to breake
promife with him, and make a ſoole of him.

To. Doo't knight, Ile write thee a Challenge: or Ile
deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth.

Mar. Sweet Sir Toby be patient for to night: Since
the youth of the Counts was to day with my Lady, ſhe is
much out of quiet. For Monfieur Malnolio, let me alone
with him: If I do not gull him into an ayword, and make
him a common recreation, do not thinke I haue witte e-
nough to lye ſtraight in my bed: I know I can do it.

To. Posſeſſe vs, posſeſſe vs, tell vs ſomething of him.

Mar. Marrie fir, ſometime he is a kinde of Puritane.

An. O, if I thought that, I deate him like a dogge.

To. What for being a Puritan, thy exquifite reaſon,
deere knight.

An. I haue no exquifite reaſon for't, but I haue reaſon
good enough.

Mar. The diu'll a Puritane that hee is, or any thing
conſantly but a time-pleaſer, an affecti'd Aſſe, that
cons State without booke, and vitters it by great ſwarths.
The beſt perſwaded of himſelfe: ſo cran'd (as he thinkes)
with excellencies, that it is his grounds of faith, that all
that looke on him, loue him: and on that vice in him, will
my reuenge finde notable cauſe to worke.

To. What wilt thou do?

Mar. I will drop in his way ſome obſure Epiſtles of
loue, wherein by the colour of his beard, the ſhape of his
legge, the manner of his gate, the expreſſure of his eye,
forehead, and compleſion, he ſhall finde himſelfe moſt
feelingly perſonated. I can write very like my Ladie
your Neece, on a ſorgen matter wee can hardly make
diſtinction of our hands.

To. Excellent, I ſmell a deuice.

An. I hau't in my noſe too.

To. He ſhall thinke by the Letters that thou wilt drop
that

262
Twelfth Night, or, What you will.

that they come from my Neece, and that shee's in loue
with him.

Mar. My purpose is indeed a horde of that colour.

An. And your horse now would make him an Affe.

Mar. Afle, I doubt not.

An. O twill be admirable.

Mar. Sport royall I warrant you: I know my Phy-
sicke will worke with him, I will plant you two, and let
the Foole make a third, where he shall finde the Letter:
obferue his construccion of it: For this night to bed, and
dreame on the cuent: Farewell.
Exit

To. Good night Penthefiea.

An. Before me she's a good wench.

To. She's a beagle true bred, and one that adores me:
what o' that?

An. I was ador'd once too.

To. Let's to bed knight: Thou hadst neede send for
more money.

An. If I cannot recouer your Neece, I am a foule way
out.

To. Send for money knight, if thou haſt her not i'th
end, call me Cut.

An. If I do not, neuer trust me, take it: how you will.

To. Come, come, Ile go burne some Sacke, tis too late
to go, to bed now: Come knight, come knight.
Excuse

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Duke, Viola, Curio and others.

Du. Giue me some Mufick; Now good morow friends.
Now good Cefario, but that peeece of song,
That old and Anticke long we heard laft night;
Me thought it did releene my passion much,
More then light ayres, and recollected termes
Of these moft briske and giddy-paced times.
Come, but one verfe.

Cur. He is not heere (so pleafe your Lordshippe) that should sing it?

Du. Who was it?

Cur. Fesse the lefter my Lord, a foole that the Ladie
Oliuiaes Father tooke much delight in. He is about the
houfe.

Du. Seeke him out, and play the tune the while.

Muficke playes.

Come hither Boy, if euer thou haſt loue
In the fweet pangs of it, remember me:
For such as I am, all true Louers are,
Unflaid and skittifh in all motions else,
Saue in the conſtant image of the creature
That is belou'd. How doſt thou like this tune?

Vio. It giues a verie eccho to the feate

Where loue is thron'd.

Du. Thou doſt speake masterly,
My life vpon't, yong though thou art, thine eye
Hath ſtand vpon ſome fanour that it loues:

Hath it not boy?

Vio. A little, by your fauour.

Du. What kinde of woman is it?

Vio. Of your compleſion.

Du. She is not worth thee then. What yeares isfaith?

Vio. About your yeeres my Lord.

Du. Too old by heauen: Let still the woman take

An elder then her ſelfe, so weares ſhe to him:
So ſwayes ſhe leuell in her husbands heart:
For boy, howeuer we do praisour ſelues,
Our fancies are more giddie and vnfirme,
More longing, wauering, sooner loft and worne,
Then womens are.

Vio. I thinke it well my Lord.

Du. Then let thy Loue be yonger tien thy ſelfe,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent:
For women are as Rofes, whose faire flowre
Being once diſplaid, doth fall that verie howre.

Vio. And for they are: alas, that they are fo:
To die, euen when they to perſection grow.

Enter Curio & Clowne.

Du. O fellow come, the ſong we had laſt night:
Marke it Cefario, it is old and plaine;
The Spinſters and the Knitters in the Sun,
And the free maides that weaue their thred with bones,
Do ſe to chaunt it: it is ſilly ſooth,
And dallies with the innocence of loue,
Like the old age.

Clo. Are you ready Sir?

Duke. I prethee sing.

The Song.

Majestät

Come away, come away death,
And in sad cypresse let me be laide.

Eye away, ſie away breath,

I am plaine by a faire cruell maide:

My hroud of white ſtuck all with Ew. O prepare it.

My part of death no one ſo true did share it.

Not a flower, not a flower siveet

On my blacke coffin, let there be ſirewne:

Not a friend, not a friend greets

My poore corpes, where my bones ſhall be thrown

A thousand thousand ſighes to ſaue, lay me on the

Sad true louer neuer find my graue, to weepe te.

Du. There's for thy paines.

Clo. No paines fir, I take pleafeure in ſinging fir.

Du. Ile pay thy pleasure then.

Clo. Truely fir, and pleafeure will be paide one time
another.

Du. Giue me now leaue, to leaue thee.

Clo. Now the melancholly God proteſt thee, and the
Tailor make thy doublet of changeable Taffata, for the
minde is a very Opall. I would haue men of ſuch conſi-
cie put to Sea, that their busineſſe might be every thing
and their intent enerie where, for that's it, that always
makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell,
Exeunt

Du. Let all the reſt giue place: Once more Cefario,
Get thee to yond fame foueraigne crueltie:
Tell her my loue, more noble then the world
Prizes not quantitie of dirtie lands,
The parts that fortune hath beſtow'd upon her:
Tell her I hold as giddily as Fortune :
But 'tis that miracle, and Queene of Iems
That nature prANKes her in, attraets my ſoule.

Vio. But if ſhe cannot loue you fir.

Du. It cannot be ſo anſwer'd.

Vio. Sooth but you muſt.

Say that ſome Lady, as perhapsps there is,
Hath for your loue as great a pang of heart

As you haue for Olivia: you cannot loue her:
You tel her so: Muſt ſhe not then be anſwer'd?

Du. There is no womans fides

263

Can bide the beating of so strong a passion,
As loue doth giue my heart: no womans heart
So bigge, to hold so much, they lacke retention.

So bigge, to hold so much, they lacke retention.
Alas, their loue may be call'd appetite,
No motion of the Luer, but the Pallat,
That suffer surfet, cloyment, and reuolt,
But mine is all as hungry as the Sea,
And can digest as much, make no compare
Betweene that loue a woman can beare me,
And that I owe Olivia.

Vio. I but I know.

Dul. What doft thou knowe?

Vio. Too well what loue women to men may owe:
In faith they are as true of heart, as we.
My Father had a daughter lou'd a man
As it might be perhaps, were I a woman
I should your Lordship.

Dul. And what's her hiftory?

Vio. A blanke my Lord: she neuer told her loue,
But let concealment like a worme i'th budde
Feede on her damaske cheeke: she pin'd in thought,
And with a greene and yellow melancholly,
She fate like Patience on a Monument,
Smiling at greefe. Was not this loue indeede?
We men may fay more, weare more, but indeed
Our fhoues are more then will: for still we proue
Much in our vowes, but little in our loue.

Dul. But dide thy fifter of her loue my Boy?

Vio. I am all the daughters of my Fathers house,
And all the brothers too: and yet I know not.
Sir, shall I to this Lady?

Dul. I that's the Theama,

To her in haſte: giue her this Iewell: ſay,
My loue can giue no place, bide no denay.

exeunt

## Scena Quinta.

Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.

To. Come thy wayes Signior Fabian.

Fab. Nay Ile come: if I looke a scruple of this ſport,
let me be boy'd to death with Melancholly.

To. Wouldst thou not be glad to haue the niggard-
ly Rascally sheepe-biter, come by some notable ſhame?

Fa. I would exult man: you know he brought me out
of your favour with my Lady, about a Beare-baiting heere.

To. To anger him weel haue the Beare againe, and
we will foole him blacke and blew, I shall we not fir An-
drew?

An. And we do not, it is pittie of our liues.

Enter Maria.

To. Heere comes the little villaine: How now my
Mettle of India?

Mar. Get ye all three into the box tree: Maluolio's
comming downe this walke, he has beene yonder the
Sunne practising behauiour to his own shadow this halfe
houre: obferue him for the loue of Mockerie: for I know
this Letter wil make a contemplatue Ideot of him. Clove
in the name of leaſting, lye thou there: for heere comes
the Trowt, that muſt be caught with tickling. Exit

Enter Maluolio.

Mal. Tis but Fortune, all is fortune. Maria once
told me she did affect me, and I haue heard her ſelf come
thus neere, that ſhould ſee fancie, it ſhould bee one of
my complection. Besides ſhe vſes me with a more ex-

alted respect, then any one else that followes her. What
should I thinke on't?

To. Heere's an ouer-weening rogue.

Fa. Oh peace: Contemplation makes a rare Turkey
Cocke of him, how he iewer his aduanc'd plumes.

And. Slight I could so beate the Rogue.

To. Peace I ſay.

Mal. To be Count Maluolio.

To. Ah Rogue.

An. Piftoll him, piftoll him.

To. Peace, peace.

Mal. There is example for't: The Lady of the Stra-
chy, married the yeoman of the wardrobe.

An. Fie on him Iezabel.

Fa. O peace, now he's deeply in: looke how imagi-
nation blowes him.

Mal. Hauing beene three moneths married to her,
fetting in my ſtate.

To. O for a ſtone-bow to hit him in the eye.

Mal. Calling my Officers about me, in my branch'd
Veluet gowne: hauing come from a day bedde, where I
haue left Olivia sleeping.

To. Fire and Brimstone.

Fa. O peace, peace.

Mal. And then to haue the humor of ſtate: and after
a demure trauaile of regard: telling them I knowe my
place, as I would they should doe theirs: to aske for my
kinsman Toby.

To. Bolies and shackles.

Fa. Oh peace, peace, peace, now, now.

Mal. Seauen of my people with an obedient ſtart,
make out for him: I frowne the while, and perchance
winde vp my watch, or play with my ſome rich Iewell:
Toby approaches; curſies there to me.

To. Shall this fellow liue ?

Fa. Though our ſilence be drawne from vs with cars,
yet peace.

Mal. I extend my hand to him thus: quenching my
familiar ſmile with an auſtere regard of controll.

To. And do's not Toby take you a blow o'the lippes,
then?

Mal. Saying, Cosine Toby, my Fortunes hauing caſt
me on your Neece, giue me this prerogatiue of ſpeech.

To. What, what?

Mal. You maſt amend your drunkennesſe.

To. Out ſcab.

Fab. Nay patience, or we breake the ſinewes of our
plot?

Mal. Besides you waſſe the treasure of your time,
with a foolish knight.

And. That's me I warrant you.

Mal. One fir Andrew.

And. I knew twas I, for many do call mee foole.

Mal. What employment haue we heere?

Fa. Now is the Woodcocke neere the gin.

Tv. Oh peace, and the ſpirit of humors intimate rea-
ding aloud to him.

Mal. By my life this is my Ladies hand: these bee her
very C's, her U's, and her T's, and thus makes ſee her
great P's. It is in contempt of queſtion her hand.

An. Her C's, her U's, and her T's: why that?

Mal. To the unknowne below'd, this, and my good wishes:
Her very Phraſes: By your leaque wax. Soft, and the im-
pressure her Lucrece, with which the vſes to ſeale: tis my
Lady: To whom should this be ?

Fab. This winnes him, Liuer and all.

Mal.

264

Mal. Ioue knowes I loue, but who, Lips do not moome, no man muft know. No man muft know. What followes ? The numbers alter : No man muft know, If this should be thee Maluolio?

To. Marrie hang thee brocke.

Mal. I may command where I adore, but silence like a Lurecffe knife:

With bloodlesse stroke my heart doth gore, M. O. A. I. doth sway my life.

Fa. A fuftian riddle.

To. Excellent Wench, say I.

Mal. M. O. A. I. doth sway my life. Nay but firſt let me fee, let me fee, let me fee.

Fab. What diſh a poyſon has ſhe dreſt him ?

To. And with what wing the stallion checkes at it?

Mal. I may command, where I adore : Why ſhee may command me: I ferue her, ſhe is my Ladie. Why this is cuident to any formall capacitie. There is no obſtruction in this, and the end: What should that Alphabetical poſſition portend, if I could make that reſemble ſomething in me ? Softly, M. O. A. I.

Fa. O I, make vp that, he is now at a cold ſent.

Fab. Sowther will cry vpon't for all this, though it bee as ranke as a Fox.

Mal. M. Maluolio, M. why that begins my name.

Fab. Did I ſay he would worke it out, the Curre is excellent at ſaults.

Mal. M. But then there is no confonancy in the ſequell that ſuffers vnder probation : A. should follow, but O. does.

Fa. And O shall end, I hope.

To. I, or Ile cudgell him, and make him cry O.

Mal. And then I. comes behind.

Fa. I, and you had any eye behinde you, you might fee more detraction at your heeles, then Fortunes before you.

Mal. M. O. A. I. This ſimulation is not as the former: and yet to crush this a little, it would bow to mee, for euery one of these Letters are in my name. Soft, here followes profile: If this fall into thy hand, reuolue. In my ſtars I am aboue thee, but be not affraid of greatneſſe: Some are become great, some atcheues greatneſſe, and some haue greatneſſe thrift vpon em. Thy fates open their hands, let thy blood and ſpirit embrace them, and to inſure thy ſelfe to what thou art like to be: caſt thy humble ſlough, and appeare fresh. Be oppofite with a kinfman, furly with ſeruants: Let thy tongue tang arguments of ſtate; put thy ſelfe into the tricke of ſingularitie. Shee thus aduifes thee, that ſighes for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow ſlockings, and wifd'd to fee thee euer croſſe garter'd: I ſay remember, goe too, thou art made if thou defirſt to be ſo: If not, let me fee thee a fleward fill, the ſellow of ſeruants, and not woonthie to touch Fortunes fingers. Farewell, Shee that would alter ſeruices with thee, that fortunate vnhappy daylight and champian diſcouers not more: This is open, I will bee proud, I will reade politicke Authours, I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off groſſe acquaintance, I will be point deuife, the very man. I do not now foole my ſelfe, to let imagination iade mee; for euery reaſon excites to this, that my Lady loues me. Shee did commend my yellow ſlockings of late, ſhee did prais'e my legge being croſſe garter'd, and in this ſhe manifeſts her ſelfe to my loue, & with a kinde of iniuention diuies mee to theſe habites of her liking. I thanke my ſtarrs, I am happy: I will bee ſtrange, ſlout, in yellow ſlockings, and croſſe Garter'd,

euen with the swiftnesse of putting on. Ioue, and my ſtarrs be praifed. Heere is yet a poſscript. Thou com'st not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainſt my loue, in it appeare in thy smiling, thy smiles become thee well. There, fore in my prefence ſtill I smile, deere my sweete, I prethee. Ioue I thanke thee, I will ſmile, I wil do euery thing that thou wilt haue me.

Fab. I will not giue my part of this ſport for a penſion of thouſands to be paid from the Sopny.

To. I could marry this wench for this deuice,

An. So could I too.

To. And aske no other dowry with her, but such another ieſt.

### Enter Marta.

An. Nor I neither.

Fab. Heere comes my noble gull catcher.

To. Wilt thou fet thy foote o'my necke.

An. Or o'mine either?

To. Shall I play my freedome at tray-trip, and becom thy bondſlaue?

An. Iſaith, or I either ?

Tob. Why, thou haſt put him in ſuch a dreame, that when the image of it leaues him, he muſt run mad.

Ma. Nay, but ſay true, do's it worke vpon him?

To. Like Aqua vite with a Midwife.

Mar. If you will then fee the fruits of the ſport, mark his firſt approach before my Lady: hee will come to her in yellow ſlockings, and tis a colour ſhe abhorres, and croſſe garter'd, a fashion ſhee deteſts: and hee will ſaile vpon her, which will now be so vnſuteable to her diſpoſition, being addicted to a melancholly, as ſhee is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt: if you will fee it follow me.

To. To the gates of Tartar, thou moſt excellent diuell of wit.

And. Ile make one too.

Exequat.

Finis Actus ſecundus.

## Actus Tertius, Scæna prima.

### Enter Viola and Clowne.

Vio. Saue thee Friend and thy Mufick: doſt thou lie by thy Tabor?

Clo. No fir, I lie by the Church.

Vio. Art thou a Churchman?

Clo. No ſuch matter fir, I do lie by the Church: For, I do lie at my house, and my house dooth stand by the Church.

Vio. So thou maſſt ſay the King lyes by a begger, if a begger dwell neer him: or the Church stands by thy Tabor, if thy Tabor stand by the Church.

Clo. You haue faſſed fir: To fee this age: A ſentence is but a cheu'll gloue to a good witte, how quickly the wrong ſide may be turn'd outward.

Vio. Nay that's certaine: they that dally nicely with words, may quickly make them wanton.

Clo. I would therefore my ſifter had no name Sir.

Vio. Why man?

Clo. Why fir, her names a word, and to dallie with that word, might make my ſifter wanton: But indeede, words are very Rafcals, ſince bonds diſgrac'd them.

Vio. Thy reaſon man?

Clo.

273

Clo. Troth fir, I can yeld you none without words,
and words are growne to falie, I am loath to proue rea-
fon with them.

Vio. I warrant thou art a merry fellow, and can't for
nothing.

Clo. Not so fir, I do care for something: but in my con-
ience fir, I do not care for you: if that be to care for no-
thing fir, I would it would make you inuible.

Vio. Art not thou the Lady Olivia's foole?

Clo. No indeed fir, the Lady Olivia has no folly, shee
will keepe no foole fir, till she be married, and fooles are
as like husbands, as Pilchers are to Herrings, the Huf-
bands the bigger, I am indee not her foole, but hir cor-
rupter of words.

Vio. I saw the late at the Count Orfino's.

Clo. Foolery fir, does walke about the Orbe like the
Sun, it shines every where. I would be forry fir, but the
Foole should be as oft with your Mafter, as with my Mi-
firis: I thinke I faw your wifedome there.

Vio. Nay, and thou paffe upon me, Ile no more with
these! Hold there's expences for thee.

Clo. Now Ioue in his next commodity of hayre, fend
thee a beard.

Vis. By my troth Ile tell thee, I am almost fickle for
one, though I would not haue it grow on my chinne. Is
thy Lady within?

Clo. Would not a paire of these haue bred fir?

Vio. Yes being kept together, and put to vfe.

Clo. I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia fir, to bring
a Crefissa to this Troylus.

Vio. I vnderstand you fir, tis well begg'd.

Clo. The matter I hope is not great fir; begging, but a
begger: Crefissa was a begger. My Lady is within fir. I
will confer to them whence you come, who you are, and
what you would are out of my welkin, I might say Ele-
ment, but the word is ouer-worne.

Vio. This fellow is wife enough to play the foole,

And to do that well, craues a kind of wit:
He must obferue their mood on whom he iefts,
The quality of perlons, and the time:
And like the Haggard, checke at every Feather
That comes before his eye. This is a practice,
As full of labour as a Wife-mans Art:
For folly that he wifely fhewes, is fit;
But wifemens folly falne, quite taint their wit.

Enter Sir Toby and Andrew.

To. Saue you Gentleman.

Vio. And you fir.

And. Dien von guard Maufieur.

Vio. Et vous ouſi vostre ſeruice.

An. I hope fir, you are, and I am yours.

To. Will you encounter the house, my Neece is defis-
rous you should enter, if your trade be to her.

Vio. I am bound to your Neece fir, I meane she is the
lift of my voyage.

Vio. Tafe your legges fir, put them to morion.

Vio. My legges do better vnderstand me fir, then I vn-
derstand what you meane by bidding me tafe my legs.

To. I meane to go fir, to enter.

Vio. I will anſwer you with gate and entrance, but we
are prevented.

Enter Olivia, and Gentlewoman.

Moft excellent accomplish'd Lady, the heauens raine O-
dours on you.

And. That youth's a rare Courtier, raine odours, wel.

Vio. My matter hath no voice Lady, but to your owne

moff pregnant and vouchſafed eare.

And. Odours, pregnant, and vouchſafed: Ile get'em
all three already.

Ol. Let the Garden doore be shut, and leaue mee to
my hearing. Giue me your hand fir.

Vio. My dutie Madam, and moff humble ſeruice?

Ol. What is your name?

Vio. Cefario is your ſeruants name, faire Princesſe.

Ol. My ſeruant fir ?'Twas neuer merry world,
Since lowly feigning was call'd complement:
y'are ſeruant to the Count Orſino youth.

Vio. And he is yours, and his muſt needs be yours:
your ſeruants ſeruant, is your ſeruant Madam.

Ol. For him, I thinke not on him: for his thoughts,
Would they were blankes, rather then fill'd with me.

Vio. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts
On his behalfe.

Ol. O by your leaue I pray you.

I bad you neuer ſpeake againe of him:
But would you vndertake another ſuite
I had rather heare you, to ſolicit that,
Then Muſicke from the ſpheares.

Vio. Deere Lady.

Ol. Giue me leaue, beſech you: I did ſend,
After the last enchantment you did heare,
A Ring in chace of you. So did I abusè
My ſelfe, my ſeruant, and I feare me you :

Vinder your hard construction muſt I fit,
To force that on you in a ſhamefull cunning

Which you knew none of yours. What might you think?
Hae you not fet mine Honor at the ſtake,

And baited it with all th'vnmuzled thoughts
That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiuing
Enough is ſhewne, a Cipreſſe, not a boſome,
Hides my heart: so let me heare you ſpeake,

Vio. I pittie you.

Ol. That's a degree to loue.

Vio. No not a grize: for tis a vulgar proofe
That verie oft we pitty enemies.

Ol. Why then me thinkes't is time to ſinile agen:
O world, how apt the poore are to be proud?
If one should be a prey, how much the better
To fall before the Lion, then the Wolfe?

Clocke strikes.

The clocke vpbraides me with the wafe of time:
Be not affraid good youth, I will not haue you,
And yet when wit and youth is come to hatueſt,
your wife is like to reape a proper man :

There lies your way, due Weſt.

Vio. Then Weſtward hoc :

Grace and good diſpoſition attend your Ladyſhip :

you'l nothing Madam to my Lord, by me :

Ol. Stay: I prethee tell me what thou thinkt of me ?

Vio. That you do thinke you are not what you are.

Ol. If I thinke ſo, I thinke the fame of you.

Vio. Then thinke you right: I am not what I am.

Ol. I would you were, as I would haue you be,

Vio. Would it be better Madam, then I am?

I wifh it might, for now I am your foole.

Ol. O what a deale of ſcorne, lookse beautifull?
In the contempt and anger of his lip,

A murdurous guilt ſhewes not it ſelfe more ſoon,

Then loue that would ſeeme hid: Loues night, is noone.

Cefario, by the Rofes of the Spring,

By maid-hood, honor, truth, and every thing,

I loue thee ſo, that maugre all thy pride,

Z

Nor

266 Twelfth Night, or, What you will.

Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide:
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
For that I woo, thou therefore haft no cause:
But rather reason thus, with reason fetter;
Loue fought, is good: but given vnfought, is better.

To. By innocence I sweare, and by my youth,
I haue one heart, one bofome, and one truth,
And that no woman has, nor neuer none
Shall miftris be of it, faue I alone.
And so adieu good Madam, neuer more,
Will I my Mafters teares to you deplore.

Ol. Yet come againe: for thou perhaps mayst mowe
That heart which now abhorres, to like his loue. Exeunt

## Scena Secunda.

And. No faith, Ile not stay a iot longer :

To. Thy reason deere venom, giue thy reason.

Fab. You muft needes yeelde your reason, Sir Andrew.

And. Marry I saw your Neece do more fauours to the Counts Seruing-man, then euer she beflow'd vpon mee: I saw't i'th Orchard.

To. Did shee see the while, old boy, tell me that.

And. As plaine as I see you now.

Fab. This was a great argument of loue in her toward you.

And. S'light; will you make an Affe o'me.

Fab. I will proue it legitimate fir, vpon the Oathes of iudgement, and reason.

To. And they haue beene grand Iurie men, since before Noah was a Saylor.

Fab. Shee did shew fauour to the youth in your fight,
onely to exasperate you, to awake your dormoue valour,
to put fire in your Heart, and brimmtone in your Liuer:
you should then haue accofted her, and with some excel-
lent iefts, fire-new from the mint, you should haue bangd
the youth into dumbeneſſe: this was look'd for at your
hand, and this was baulk'd: the double gilt of this oppor-
tunitie you let time wash off, and you are now fayld into
the North of my Ladies opinion, where you will hang
like an yfickle on a Dutchmans beard, vnleſſe you do re-
deemee it, by some laudable attempt, either of valour or
policie.

And. And't be any way, it muſt be with Valour, for policie I hate: I had as lieſe be a Browniſt, as a Politician.

To. Why then build me thy fortunes vpon the basis of valour. Challenge me the Counts youth to fight with him hurt him in eleven places, my Neece ſhall take note of it, and aſſure thy ſelfe, there is no loue-Broker in the world, can more preuail in mans commendation with woman, then report of valour.

Fab. There is no way but this fir Andrew.

An. Will either of you beare me a challenge to him?

To. Go, write it in a martial hand, be curſt and briefe: it is no matter how wittie, so it bee eloquent, and full of inuention: taunt him with the liceſe of Inke: if thou thouſt him ſome thrice, it ſhall not be amiffle, and as many Lyes, as will lye in thy ſheete of paper, although the ſheete were bigge enough for the bedde of Ware in Eng-

land, fet 'em downe, go about it. Let there be gaulle enough in thy inke, though thou write with a Goole-pen, no matter about it.

And. Where ſhall I finde you?

To. Wee'l call thee at the Cubiculo: Go.

Exit Sir Andrew.

Fa. This is a deere Manakin to you Sir Toby.

To. I haue beene deere to him lad, ſome two thouſand ſtrong, or ſo.

Fa. We shall haue a rare Letter from him; but you're not deliuer't.

To. Neuer truſt me then: and by all meanes firet on the youth to an anſwer. I thinke Oxen and waine-tope: cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were open'd and you finde ſo much blood in his Liuer, as will clog the foote of a flea, Ile eate the reſt of th' anatomy.

Fab. And his oppoſit the youth beates in his viſage no great preſage of cruelty.

Enter Maria.

To. Looke where the youngeſt Wren of mine comes.

Mar. If you deſire the ſpleene, and will laughe your ſelues into flitches, follow me; yond gull Malvolio is turn'd Heathen, a verie Renegatho; for there is no chriſtian that meanes to be ſaue by beleeuing rightly, can euer beleeue ſuch impoffible paſſages of groſſeneſſe. Hee's in yellow flockings.

To. And croſſe garrer'd?

Mar. Moſt villanouſly: like a Pedant that keeps a Schoole i'th Church: I haue dogg'd him like his murtherer, He does obey euery point of the Letter that I dropt, to betray him: He does ſmile his face into more lynes, then is in the new Mappe, with the augmentation of the Indies: you haue not ſeene ſuch a thing as tis: I can hardly forbeare hurling things at him, I know my Ladie, will ſtrike him: if ſhewe doe, hee'l ſmile, and take't for a great fauour.

To. Come bring vs, bring vs where he is.

Exeunt Omnia.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Sebastian and Antonio.

Seb. I would not by my will have troubled you,
But ſince you make your pleafure of your paines,
I will no further chide you,

Ant. I could not ſtay behinde you: my deſire
(More ſharpe then filed ſteele) did ſpurre me forth,
And not all loue to fee you (though ſo much
As might haue drawne one to a longer voyage)
But ialleouſe, what might befall your rrauell,
Being skilleſſe in theſe parts: which to a ſtranger,
Vnguided, and vnſtriended, often proue
Rough, and vnhoſpitable. My willing loue,
The rather by theſe arguments of ſfeare
Set forth in your purſuite.

Seb. My kinde Anthonio,
I can no other anſwer make, but thanks,
And thanks: and euer oft good turnes,
Are ſhuffel'd off with ſuch vncurrant pay:
But were my worth, as is my confidence firme,

Yea,

267

You should finde better dealing : what's to do?

Shall we go see the reliques of this Towne?

Ant. To tomorrow fir, beſt firſt goe see your Lodging?

Sb. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night

I pray you let vs ſatiate our eyes
With the memorials, and the things of fame

That do renowne this City.

Ant. Would you l'd pardon me :

I do not without danger walke these freetees.

Once in a ſea-fight 'gainſt the Count his gallies,
I did ſome ſeruice, of ſuch note indeede,

That were I tane heree, it would ſcarle be anſwer'd.

Sb. Belike you ſlew great number of his people.

Ant. Th'offence is not of ſuch a bloody nature,

Albeit the quality of the time, and quarrell

Might well haue giuen vs bloody argument :

It might haue ſince bene anſwer'd in repaying

What we tooke from them, which for Traffiques ſake
Mofft of our City did. Onely my ſelfe ſtood out,

For which if I be lapped in this place

I ſhall pay deere.

Sb. Do not then walke too open.

Ant. It doth not ſit me : hold fir, here's my purſe,

In the South Suburbs at the Elephant

Is beſt to lodge : I will beſcate our dyet,

Whiles you beguile the time, and ſeed your knowledge
With viewing of the Towne, there ſhall you haue me.

Sb. Why I your purſe?

Ant. Haply your eye ſhall light vpon ſome toy

You haue deſire to purchase : and your ſtore

I thinke is not for idle Markets, fir.

Sb. Ile be your purſe-bearer, and leaue you

For an houre.

Ant. To th'Elephant.

Sb. I do remember.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Olivia and Maria.

Ol. Ihaue ſent after him, he ſayes hee'l come :

How ſhall I ſeaf him ? What beſtow of him ?

For youth is bought more oft, then begg'd, or borrow'd.

I ſpeak too loud : Where's Malmolio, he is ſad, and ciuill,
And luites well for a ſeruant with my fortunes,
Where is Malmolio?

Mar. He's comming Madame :

But in very ſtrange manner. He is ſure poſſeſt Madam.

Ol. Why what's the matter, does he raue ?

Mar. No Madam, he does nothing but ſmile: your La-
ryſhip were beſt to haue ſome guard about you, if hee
come, for ſure the man is tainted in's wits.

Ol. Go call him hither.

Enter Malmolio.

I am as madde as hee,

If I ad and merry madneſſe equall bee.

How now Malmolio?

Mal. Sweet Lady, ho, ho.

Ol. Smil ſt thou ? I ſent for thee vpon a ſad occafion.

Mal. Sad Lady, I could be ſad :

This does make ſome obſtruction in the blood :

This croſſe-gartering, but what of that?

If it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very true
Sonnets : Pleaſe one, and pleafe all.

Mal. Why how doſt thou man ?

What is the matter with thee ?

Mal. Not blacke in my minde, though yellow in my
legges: It did come to his hands, and Commaunds ſhall
be executed. I thinke we doe know the ſweet Romane
hand.

Ol. Wilt thou go to bed Malmolio?

Mal. To bed? I ſweet heart, and Ile come to thee.

Ol. God comfort thee: Why doſt thou ſmile ſo, and
kifle thy hand ſo oft ?

Mar. How do you Malmolio ?

Maluo. At your requeſt :

Yes Nightingales anſwere Dawes.

Mar. Why appeare you with this ridiculous bold-
neſſe before my Lady.

Mal. Be not aſraid of greatneſſe : 'twas well writ.

Ol. What meanſt thou by that Malmolio?

Mal. Some are borne great.

Ol. Ha?

Mal. Some atcheene greatneſſe.

Ol. What ſayſt thou ?

Mal. And ſome haue greatneſſe thrust vpon them.

Ol. Heauen ſrefore thee.

Mal. Remember who commended thy yellow ſtock-
ings.

Ol. Thy yellow ſtockings ?

Mal. And wifh'd to ſee thee croſſe garter'd.

Ol. Croſſe garter'd?

Mal. Go too, thou art made, ſif thou deſir ſt to be ſo.

Ol. Am I made?

Mal. If not, Ier me ſee thee a ſeruant ſill.

Ol. Why this is verie Midſommer madneſſe.

Enter Servant.

Ser. Madame, the young Gentleman of the Count
Orſino's is return'd, I could hardly entreat him backe : he
attends your Ladyships pleafure.

Ol. Ile come to him.
Good Maria, let this fellow be look'd too. Where's my
Cofine Toby, let ſome of my people haue a ſpeciall care
of him, I would not haue him miſcarrie for the halfe of
my Dowry.
exit

Mal. Oh ho, do you come neere me now : no worse
man then fir Toby to looke to me. This concurrees direct-
ly with the Letter, ſhe ſends him on purpofe, that I may
appeare ſtubborne to him : for ſhe incites me to that in
the Letter. Caſt thy humble ſlough ſayes ſhe : be oppo-
ſite with a Kinfman, ſurly with ſeruants, let thy tongue
langer with arguments of ſlate, put thy ſelfe into the
tricke of ſingularity : and conſequently ſetts downe the
manner how : as a ſad face, a reuerend carriage, a flow-
tongue, in the habite of ſome Sir of note, and ſo ſoorth.
I haue lymde her, but it is Ioues doing, and Ioue make me
thankefull. And when ſhe went away now, let this Fel-
low be look'd too : Fellow ? not Malmolio, nor after my
degree, but Fellow. Why every thing adheres together,
that no dramme of a ſcruple, no ſcruple of a ſcruple, no
obſtacle, no inſredulous or vnſafe circumſtance : What
can be faide ? Nothing that can be, can come betweene
me, and the full proſpect of my hopes. Well Ioue, not I,
is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked.

Enter Toby, Fabian, and Maria.

Z 2

To.

268

To. Which way is hee in the name of fanctity. If all
the diuels of hell be drawne in little, and Legion himselfe
poffeſt him, yet Ile ſpeake to him.

Fab. Heere he is, heere he is: how it ſt with you fir?
How it ſt with you man?

Mal. Go off, I discard you : let me enioy my priuate:
go off.

Mar. Lo, how hollow the fiend ſpeakes within him; did not I tell you? Sir *Toby*, my Lady prayes you to haue a care of him.

Mal. Ah ha, does ſhe ſo?

To. Go too, go too: peace, peace, wee muſt deale
gently with him: Let me alone. How do you Malvolio?
How it ſt with you? What man, deſe the diuell: confider,
he's an enemy to mankinde.

Mal. Do you know what you ſay?

Mar. I lay you, and you ſpeake ill of the diuell, how
he takes it at heart. Pray God he be not bewitch'd.

Fab. Carry his water to ch'wife woman.

Tyr. Marry and it ſhall be done to morrow morning
if I lieue. My Lady would not loofe him for more then ile
ſay.

Mal. How now miflris?

Mar. Oh Lord.

To. Prethee hold thy peace, this is not the way: Doe
you not ſee you moue him? Let me alone with him.

Fa. No way but gentleneſſe, gently, gently: the Fiend
is rough, and will not be roughly vs'd.

To. Why how now my bawcock? how doſt you chuck?

Mal. Sir.

To. I biddy, come with me. What man, tis not for
gravity to play at cherrie-pit with ſathan. Hang him foul
Colliar.

Tyr. Get him to ſay his prayers, good fir *Toby* gette
him to pray.

Mal. My prayers Minx.

Mar. No I warrant you, he will not heare of godly-
neſſe.

Mal. Go hang your felues all: you are ydle ſhallowe
things, I am not of your element, you ſhall knowe more
hereafter.

Exit

To. Iſt possible?

Fa. If this were plaid upon a ſtage now, I could con-
demne it as an improbable ſiſtion.

To. His very genius hath taken thei ſinfection of the
deuice man.

Mar. Nay purſue him now, leaſt the deuice take ayre,
and taint.

Fa. Why we ſhall make him mad indeede.

Mar. The house will be the quieter.

To. Come, wee'l haue him in a darke room & bound.
My Neece is already in the beleefe that he's mad: we may
carry it thus for our pleafure, and his pennance, til our ve-
ry paſtme tyred out of breath, prompt vs to haue mercry
on him: at which time, we wil bring the deuice to the bar
and crowne thee for a finder of madmen: but ſee, but ſee.

Enter Sir Andrew.

Fa. More matter for a May morning.

An. Heere's the Challenge, reade it: I warrant there's
vinegar and pepper in't.

Fab. Iſt lawcy?

And. I, iſt? I warrant him: do but read.

To. Giue me.

Toby, what ſoever thou art, thou art but a ſcurny ſellow.

Fa. Good, and valiant.

To. Wonder not, nor admire not in thy minde why I doe call

thee ſo, for I will ſhow thee no reaſon for't.

(Law)

Fa. A good note, that keepes you from the blow of

To. *Thou comst to the Lady Olivia, and in my fight ſhe ſaſ
thee kindly: but thou left'st in thy throat, that is not the matter
I challenge thee for.*

Fa. Very brieſe, and to exceeding good fence-ſeſſe.

To. I will way-lay thee going home, where if it be thy chance
to kill me.

Fa. Good.

To. *Thou kill'st me like a rogue and a villaine.*

Fa. Still you keepe o'th windie ſide of the Law: good

Tob. Fartheewell, and God haue mercie upon one of our
foules. He may haue mercie upon mine, but my hope is better,
and so looke to thy ſelfe. Thy friend as thou left'st him, & thy
ſworne enemie, Andrew Ague-cheeke.

To. If this Letter moue him not, his legges cannot:
Ile giu't him.

Mar. Yon may haue verie ſit occasion for't: he is now
in ſome commerce with my Ladie, and will by and by
depart.

To. Go fir Andrew: ſcout mee for him at the corner
of the Orchard like a bum-Byland: fo ſoone as euer thou
ſeeft him, draw, and as thou draw'ſt, ſware horrible: for
t comes to paſſe oft, that a terrible oath, with a wagging
ring accent ſharply twang'd off, giues manhood more
approbation, then euer prooſe it ſelfe would haue ear'd
him. Away.

Aud. Nay let me alone for ſwearing.

Exit

To. Now will not I deliuer his Letter: for the behau-
our of the yong Gentleman, giues him out to be of good
capacity, and breeding: his employment betweene his
Lord and my Neece, confirmes no leſſe. Therefore, this
Letter being ſo excellently ignorant, will breed no terroer
in the youth: he will finde it comes from a Clodde-pole.
But fir, I will deliuer his Challenge by word of mouth:
ſet vpon Ague-cheeke a notable report of valor, and diue
the Gentleman (as I know his youth will aptly receiue it)
into a moſt hideous opinion of his rage, skill, ſurit, and
impetuositie. This will ſo fright them both, that they will
kill one another by the looke, like Cockatrices.

Enter Olivia and Viola.

Fab. Heere he comes with your Neece, giue them wy
till he take leaue, and prefently after him.

To. I wil meditate the while vpon ſome horrid meſsage
for a Challenge.

Ol. I haue faid too much vnto a hart of ſlone,
And laid mine honour too vnchary on't:

There's ſomething in me that reproues my fault:

But ſuch a head-ſtrong potential fault it is,

That it but mockes reproofe.

Vio. With the fame hauie that your passion bears,
Goes on my Maſters greeſes.

Ol. Heere, weare this Iewell for me, tis my picture.
Refuse it not, it hath no tongue, to vex you:

And I befeech you come againe to morrow.

What ſhall you aske of me that Ile deny,

That honour (fau'd) may vpon asking ſiue.

Vio. Nothing but this, your true loue for my maſter.

Ol. How with mine honor may I giue him that,
Which I haue giuen to you.

Vio. I will acquit you.

Ol. Well, come againe to morrow: far-there-well
A Fiend like thee might beare my foule to hell.

Enter Toby and Fabian.

To. Gentleman, God faue thee.

269

Vio. And you fir.

To. That defence thou haft, betake the too't: of what nature the wongs are thou haft done him, I knowe not: but thy interceptor full of despight, bloody as the Hunter, attends thee at the Orchard end: dismount thy tucke, beare in thy preparation, for thy affaylant is quick, skilfull, and deadly.

Vio. You miftake fir I am sure, no man hath any quarrell to me: my remembrance is very free and cleere from any image of offence done to any man.

To. You'll finde it otherwise I affure you: therefore, if you hold your life at any price, betake you to your gard: for your oppofite hath in him what youth, strength, skill, and wrath, can furnish man withall.

Vio. I pray you fir what is he?

To. He is knight dubb'd with vnhatch'd Rapier, and on carpet consideration, but he is a diuell in private braill, foules and bodies hath diuore'd three, and his incenfe ment at this moment is so implacable, that fatistaction can be none, but by pangs of death and sepulcher: Hob, nob, is his word: giu't or take't.

Vio. I will returne againe into the house, and defire some conduct of the Lady. I am no fighter, I have heard of some kinde of men, that put quarrells purpofely on others, to taſte their valour: beſike this is a man of that quirke.

To. Sir, no: his indignation deriues it ſelfe out of a very compentious iniurie, therefore get you on, and give him his deſire. Backe you ſhall not to the house, vnleſſe you vndertake that with me, which with as much ſafetie you might anſwer him: therefore on, or ſtrippe your ſword ſtarke naked: for meddle you muſt that's certain, or forſware to wearre iron about you.

Vio. This is as vnciuiuſ as strange. I beſeech you, I doe me this courteous office, as to know of the Knight what my offence to him is: it is something of my negligence, nothing of my purpose.

To. I will do so. Signiour Fabian, ſtay you by this Gentleman, till my returne.

Exeunt.
Vio. Pray you fir, do you know of this matter?

Fab. I know the knight is incenſt againſt you, euen to a mortall arbitrement, but nothing of the circumstance more.

Vio. I beſeech you what manner of man is he?

Fab. Nothing of that wonderful promife to read him by his forme, as you are like to finde him in the proofe of his valour. He is indeede fir, the moſt skilſull, bloudy, & fatall oppoſite that you could poffibely haue found in anie part of Ilyria: will you walke towards him, I will make your peace with him, if I can.

Vio. I ſhall bee much bound to you for't: I am one, that had rather go with fir Priest, then fir knight: I care not who knowes so much of my mettle.

Exeunt.
Enter Toby and Andrew.

To. Why man hee s a verie diuell, I haue not seen ſuch a ſirago: I had a paffe with him, rapier, ſcabberd, and all: and he giues me the ſucke in with ſuch a mortall motion that it is ineuiſitable: and on the anſwer, he payes you as ſurely, as your feete hits the ground they ſlep on. They fay, he has bin Fencer to the Sophy.

And. Pox on't, Ile not meddle with him.

To. I but he will nor now be pacified, Fabian can ſcarle hold him yonder.

An. Plague on't, and I thought he had beene valiant, and ſo cunning in Fence, I'de haue ſeene him damn'd ere I'de haue challeſt him. Let him let the matter ſlip, and

Ile giue him my horſe, gray Capilet.

To. Ile make the motion: ſtand heere, make a good ſhew on't, this ſhall end without the perdition of ſoules, marry Ile ride your horſe as well as I ride you.

Enter Fabian and Viola.

I haue his horſe to take vp the quarrell, I haue perſwaded him the youths a diuell.

Fab. He is as horribly conceited of him: and pants, & looks pale, as if a Beare were at his heeles.

To. There's no remedie fir, he will fight with you for's oath ſake: martie hee hath better bethought him of his quarrell, and hee findes that now ſcarle to bee worth talking of: therefore draw for the ſupport of his vowe, he proteſts he will not hurt you.

Vio. Pray God defend me: a little thing would make me tell them how much I lacke of a man.

Fab. Giue ground if you fee him ſurious.

To. Come fir Andrew, there's no remedie, the Gentleman will for his honors ſake haue one bowt with you: he cannot by the Duello auoide it: but hee has promiſed me, as he is a Gentleman and a Soldiour, he will not hurt you. Come on, too't.

And. Pray God he keepe his oath.

Enter Antonio.

Vio. I do ſaffe you tis againſt my will.

Ant. Put vp your ſword: if this yong Gentleman Haue done offence, I take the fault on me: If you offend him, I for him deſie you.

To. You fir? Why, what are you ?

Ant. One fir, that for his loue dares yet do more
Then you haue heard him brag to you he will.

To. Nay, if you be an vndertaker, I am for you,

Enter Officers.

Fab. O good fir Toby hold: here come the Officers.

To. Ile be with you anon.

Vio. Pray fir, put your ſword vp if you pleafe.

And. Marry will I fir: and for that I promis'd you I be as good as my word. Hee will beare you easily, and raines well.

1. Off. This is the man, do thy Office.

2. Off. Anthonio, I arreſt thee at the ſuit of Count Orſino.

Ant. You do miftake me fir.

1. Off. No fir, no iot: I know your fauour well:

Though now you haue no ſea-cap on your head:

Take him away, he knowes I know him well.

Ant. I muſt obey. This comes with seeking you: But there's no remedie, I ſhall anſwer it: What will you do: now my neceſſitie Makes me to aske you for my purſe. It greeues mee Much more, for what I cannot do for you, Then what befals my ſelfe: you ſtand amaz'd, But be of comfort.

2. Off. Come fir away.

Ant. I muſt entreat of you ſome of that money.

Vio. What money fir?

For the fayre kindneſſe you haue ſhew'd me heere, And part being prompted by your preſent trouble, Out of my leane and low ability

Ile lend you ſomethіng: my hauing is not much, Ile make diuision of my preſent with you;

Hold, there's halſe my Coffer.

Ant. Will you deny me now,
If ſomſible that my deſerts to you

Can lacke perſwafion. Do not tempt my miſery,
Leaſt that it make me ſo vnfound a man

As to vpbraid you with those kindneſſes

Z 3

That

270

That I have done for you.

*Vio.* I know of none,

Nor know I you by voyce, or any feature :

I hate ingratitude more in a man,

Then lying, vainnesse, babling drunkennesse,

Or any taint of vice, whose strong corruption

Inhabites our fraile blood.

*Ant.* Oh heauens themfluelues.

2. Off. Come fir, I pray you go.

*Ant.* Let me speake a little. This youth that you see I fnaich'd one halfe out of the iawes of death, (heree, Releeu'd him with such fanctitie of loue;

And to his image, which me thought did promise
Moſt venerable worth, did I deuotion.

1. Off. What's that to vs, the time goes by: Away.

*Ant.* But oh, how vilde an idoll proues this God :

Thou haſt *Sebſtian* done good feature, ſhame.

In Nature, there's no blemiſh but the minde :

None can be call'd deform'd, but the vnkinde.

Vertue is beauty, but the beauteous euill.

Are empty trunkeſ, ore-flourish'd by the duill.

1. Off. The man growes mad, away with him :

Come, come fir.

*Ant.* Leade me on.

Exit

*Vio.* Me thinkes his words do from such paſſion flye
That he beleeues himſelfe, ſo do not I:
Proue true imagination, oh proue true,
That I deere brother, be now tane for you.

*To.* Come hicher Knight, come hither *Fabian*: Wee
whisper, ore a couplee or two of moſt ſage ſawes.

*Vio.* He nam'd *Sebſtian*: I my brother know
Yet liuing in my glaſſe: euen ſuch, and so
In fauour was my Brother, and he went

Still in this ſaſhion, colour, ornament,

For him I imitate: Oh if it proue,

Tempeſts are kinde, and ſalt waues fresh in loue.

*To.* A very diſhonest paltry boy, and more a coward
than a Hare, his diſhonesty appeares, in leauing his friend
heere in neceffity, and denying him: and for his coward-
ship aske *Fabian*.

*Fab.* A Coward, a moſt deuout Coward, religious in it.

*And.* Slid Ile after him againe, and beate him.

*To.* Do, cuffe him foundly, but neuer draw thy ſword

*And.* And I do not.

*Fab.* Come, let's see the cuent.

*To.* I dare lay any money, twill be nothing yet. Exit

Actus Quartus, Scæna prima.

*Enter Sebſtian and Clowne.*

*Clo.* Will you make me beleeue, that I am not ſent for you?

*Seb.* Go too, go too, thou art a foolish fellow,

Let me be cleere of thee.

*Clo.* We'll held our faith: No, I do not know you,
nor I am not ſent to you by my Lady, to bid you come
ſpeake with her: nor your name is not *Mafario*,
nor this is not my noſe neyther: Nothing that is ſo, is ſo.

*Seb.* I prethee vent thy folly ſome-where else, thou knowſt not me.

*Clo.* Vent my folly: He has heard that word of ſome great man, and now applyes it to a foole. Vent my fol-

ly: I am affraid this great Jubber the World will proue a
Cockney: I prethee now vngrid thy ſtrangenes, and tell
me what I ſhall vent to my Lady? Shall I vent to hit that
thou art comming?

*Seb.* I prethee foolish greeke depart from me, there:
money for thee, if you tarry longer, I ſhall giue worſ
paiment.

*Clo.* By my troth thou haſt an open hand: theſe Wive-
men that giue fooles money, get themſelues a good re-
port, after foureteen yeares purchaſe.

*Enter Andrew, Toby, and Fabian.*

*And.* Now fir, haue I met you again : ther's for you.

*Seb.* Why there's for thee, and there, and there,

Are all the people mad?

*To.* Hold fir, or Ile throw your dagger ore the houſe.

*Clo.* This will I tell my Lady ſtraight, I would not be in ſome of your coats for two pence.

*To.* Come on fir, hold.

*An.* Nay let him alone, Ile go another way to work
with him: I haue an action of Battery againſt him, if
there be any law in Illyria: though I ſtroke him firſt, yet
it's no matter for that.

*Seb.* Let go thy hand.

*To.* Come fir, I will not let you go. Come my yong
ſouldier put vp your yron: you are well fleſh'd: Come
on.

*Seb.* I will be free from thee. What would it now :
If thou darſt tempt me further, draw thy ſword.

*To.* What, what? Nay then I muſt haue an Ounce or
two of this malapert blood from you.

*Enter Olivia.*

*Ol.* Hold *Toby*, on thy life I charge thee hold.

*To.* Madam.

*Ol.* Will it be euer thus ? Vngracious wretch,
Fit for the Mountaines, and the barbarous Cauſes,
Where manners nere were preach'd : out of my flight.
Be not offended, decre *Cefario*:

Rudesbey be gone. I prethee gentle friend,

Let thy fayre wifedome, not thy paſſion ſway

In this vnciuill, and vnliuſt extent

Against thy peace. Go with me to my houſe,

And heare thou there how many fruitiſſe prankes

This Ruffian hath botch'd vp, that thou thereby

Mayſt ſmile at this: Thou ſhalt not choose but goe:

Do not denie, beſhrew his ſoule for mee,

He ſtarted one poore heart of mine, in thee.

*Seb.* What rellith is in this ? How runs the ſtreame?
Or I am mad, or eſſe this is a dreame:
Let ſancie ſtill my ſense in Lethe ſleepe,
If it be thus to dreame, ſtill let me sleepe.

*Ol.* Nay come I prethee, would thou'd ſt be rul'd by me

*Seb.* Madam, I will.

*Ol.* O say so, and so be.

Exeunt

Scæna Secunda.

*Enter Maria and Clowne.*

*Mar.* Nay, I prethee put on this gown, & this heard,
make him beleeue thou art fir *Topas* the Curate, do it
quickly. Ile call fir *Toby* the whilft.

*Clo.* Well, Ile put it on, and I will diſſemble my felie
in't, and I would I were the firſt that euer diſſembled in
fuch

271

in such a gowne. I am not tall enough to become the
functiue well, nor leane enough to bee thought a good
Student: but to be said an honest man and a good houſe-
keeper goes as fairely, as to ſay, a careful man, & a great
ſcholler. The Competitors enter.

Enter Toby.

To. Ioue bleſſeth thee M. Parſon.

Clo. Bows dies fir Toby: for as the old hermit of Prage
that neuer ſaw pen and inke, very wittily ſayd to a Necce
of King Gorbodache, that that is, is: ſo I being M. Parſon,
am M. Parſon; for what is that, but that? and is, but is?
To. To him fir Topas.

Clo. What haa, I ſay, Peace in this prſon.

To. The knaue counterfets well; a good knaue.

Malvolio within.

Mal. Who cals there?

Clo. Sir Topas the Curate, who comes to visit Malvolio
for the Lunaticke.

Mal. Sir Topas, fir Topas, good fir Topas goe to my
Ladie.

Clo. Our hyperbolical ſiend, how vexeſt thou this
man? Talke ſt thou nothing but of Ladies?

Tob. Well ſaid M. Parſon.

Clo. Sir Topas, neuer was man thus wronged, good fir Topas do not thinke I am mad: they haue layde mee here in hideous darkneſſe.

Clo. Fye, thou diſhoneſt ſathan: I call thee by the
moſt modſt termes, for I am one of those gentle ones,
that will wſe the diuell himselfe with curſe: ſay ſt thou
that houſe is darke?

Mal. As hell fir Topas.

Clo. Why it hath bay Windowes transparent as bari-
cadoes, and the cleere ſtores toward the South north, are
as luftrous as Ebony: and yet complaineſt thou of ob-
ſtraction?

Mal. I am not mad fir Topas, I ſay to you this houſe is darke.

Clo. Madman thou erreſt: I ſay there is no darkneſſe
but ignorance, in which thou art more puzel'd then the
Egyptians in their ſogge.

Mal. I ſay this houſe is as darke as Ignorance, though
Ignorance were as darke as hell; and I ſay there was ne-
uer man thus abus'd. I am no more madde then you are,
make the triall of it in any conſtant queſtion.

Clo. What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning
Wilde-fowle?

Mal. That the ſoule of our grandam, might happily
inhabite a bird.

Clo. What thinkt thou of his opinion ?

Mal. I thinke nobly of the ſoule, and no way aprue
his opinion.

Clo. Fare thee well: remaine thou ſtill in darkeneſſe,
thou ſhalt hold th'opinion of Pythagoras, ere I will allow
of thy wits, and ſcare to kill a Woodcocke, left thou di-
poſſeſſe the ſoule of thy grandam. Fare thee well.

Mal. Sir Topas, fir Topas.

Tob. My moſt exquifeſt fir Topas.

Clo. Nay I am for all waters.

Mal. Thou mightſt haue done this without thy berd
and gowne, he ſees thee not.

To. To him in thine owne voyce, and bring me word
how thou findt him: I would we were well ridde of this
knauery. If he may bee conveniently deliuer'd, I would
he were, for I am now ſo farre in offence with my Niece,
that I cannot purſue with any ſafety this ſport the
vppet.
Come by and by to my Chamber.
Exit

Clo. Hey Robin, iolly Robin, tell me how thy Lady
does.

Mal. Foole.

Clo. My Lady is vnkind, perdies.

Mal. Foole.

Clo. Alas why is the ſo ?

Mal. Foole, I ſay.

Clo. She loues another. Who calles, ha?

Mal. Good foole, as euer thou wilt deferue well at
my hand, helpe me to a Candle, and pen, inke, and paper :
as I am a Gentleman, I will liue to bee thankefull to thee
for't.

Clo. M. Malvolio?

Mal. I good Foole.

Clo. Alas fir, how fell you besides your ſiue witts?

Mall. Foole, there was neuer man to notorioullie a-
bus'd: I am as well in my wits (foole) as thou art.

Clo. But as well: then you are mad indeede, if you be
no better in your wits then a foole.

Mal. They haue heere propertied me: keepe mee in
darkeneſſe, ſend Minifters to me, Aſſes, and doe all they
can to face me out of my wits.

Clo. Aduife you what you ſay: the Minifter is heere.
Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wittes the heauens reſtore: en-
deauour thy ſelſe to sleepe, and leaue thy vaine bibble
babble.

Mal. Sir Topas.

Clo. Maintaine no words with him good fellow.

Who I fir, not I fir. God buy you good fir Topas: Mar-
ry Amen. I will fir, I will.

Mal. Foole, foole, foole I ſay.

Clo. Alas fir be patient. What ſay you fir, I am thent
for ſpeaking to you.

Mal. Good foole, helpe me to ſome light, and ſome
paper, I tell thee I am as well in my wittes, as any man in
Illyria.

Clo. Well-a-day, that you were fir.

Mal. By this hand I am: good foole, ſome inke, pa-
per, and light: and conuey what I will ſet downe to my
Lady: it ſhall aduantage thee more, then euer the bea-
ring of Letter did.

Clo. I will help you too't. But tel me true, are you not
mad indeed, or do you but counterfeit.

Mal. Beleeue me I am not, I tell thee true.

Clo. Nay, Ilenere beleeue a madman till I ſee his brains
I will ſetch you light, and paper, and inke.

Mal. Foole, Ile requite it in the highſt degree:
I prethee be goue,

Clo. I am gone fir, and anon fir,

Ile be with you againe :

In a trice, like to the old vice,

your neede to ſuſtaine.

Who with dagger of lath, in his rage and his wrath,
cries ah ah, to the diuell :

Like a mad lad, paire thy nayles dad,

Adieu good man diuell.

Exit

## Scæna Tertia.

Enter Sebaſtian.

This is the ayre, that is the glorious Sunne,
This pearle the gaue me, I do feel't, and feel't,
And though tis wonder that enwraps me thus,

Yet

272

Yet 'tis not madnesse. Where's *Anthony* then,
I could not finde him at the Elephant,
Yet there he was, and there I found this credite,
That he did range the towne to seeke me out,
His councell now might do me golden feruice,
For though my foule disputes well with my fence,
That this may be some error, but no madnesse,
Yet doth this accident and flood of Fortune,
So farre exceed all instance, all discourse,
That I am readie to disfrust mine eyes,
And wrangle with my reason that perfwades me
To any other truft, but that I am mad,
Or else the Ladies mad; yet if 'twere so,
She could not fway her house, command her followers,
Take, and giue backe affayres, and their dispatch,
With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing
As I perceiue ſhe do's: there's something in't
That is deceiueable. But heere the Lady comes.

*Enter Olivia, and Priest.*

Ol. Blame not this haffe of mine: if you meane well
Now go with me, and with this holy man
Into the Chantry by: there before him,
And vnderneath that consecrated roofe,
Plight me the full affurance of your faith,
That my moſt icalious, and too doubtfull ſoule
May liue at peace. He ſhall conceale it,
Whiles you are willing it ſhall come to note,
What time we will our celebration keepe
According to my birth, what do you ſay?

Seb. Ile follow this good man, and go with you,
And hauing ſworne truth, euer will be true.

Ol. Then lead the way good father, & heauens ſo ſhine,
That they may fairly note this aſte of mine.

*Exeunt.*

*Finis Actus Quartio.*

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

*Enter Clowne and Fabian.*

Fab. Now as thou louſt me, let me see his Letter.

Clo. Good M. Fabian, grant me another request.

Fab. Any thing.

Clo. Do not defire to see this Letter.

Fab. This is to giue a dogge, and in recompence defire
my dogge againe.

*Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and Lords.*

Duke. Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends?

Clo. I ſir, we are ſome of her trappings.

Duke. I know thee well: how doest thou my good
Fellow?

Clo. Truely ſir, the better for my foes, and the worſe
for my friends.

Dn. Iuſt the contrary : the better for thy friends.

Clo. No ſir, the worſe.

Du. How can that be?

Clo. Marry ſir, they praisè me, and make an aſſe of me,
now my foes tell me plainly, I am an Aſſe: so that by my
foes ſir, I profit in the knowledge of my ſelſe, and by my
friends I am abufed: so that conclusions to be as kifſes, if
your ſoure negatiues make your two affirmatiues, why
then the worſe for my friends, and the better for my foes.

Du. Why this is excellent.

Clo. By my troth ſir, no: though it please you to be
one of my friends.

Du. Thou ſhalt not be the worſe for me, there's gold.
Clo. But that it would be double dealing ſir, I would
you could make it another.

Du. O you giue me ill counſell.

Clo. Put your grace in your pocket ſir, for this once,
and let your flesh and blood obey it.

Du. Well, I will be so much a finner to be a double
dealer: there's another.

Clo. Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play, and the olde
faying is, the third payes for all: the triplex ſir, is a good
tripping meaſure, or the belles of S. Bennet ſir, may put
you in minde, one, two, three.

Du. You can foole no more money out of mee at this
throw: if you will let your Lady know I am here to ſpeak
with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake my
bounty further.

Clo. Marry ſir, lullaby to your bountie till I come again.
Du. I go ſir, but I would not haue you to thinke, that
my defire of hauing is the ſiane of couetouſneſſe: but as
you ſay ſir, let your bounty take a nappe, I will awake it
anon.

Exi

*Enter Anthony and Officers.*

Vio. Here comes the man ſir, that did reſcue mee.

Du. That face of his I do remember well,
yet when I faw it laſt, it was beſmear'd
As blacke as Vulcan, in the ſmoake of warre:
A bawbling Veſſell was he Captaine of,
For shallow draught and bulke vnprizable,
With which ſuch faſinfull grapple did he make,
With the moſt noble bottome of our Fleete,
That very enuy, and the tongue of loffe
Cride fame and honor on him: What's the matter?

1 Offi. Orſino, this is that *Anthony*

That tooke the *Phænix*, and her fraught from *Candy*,
And this is he that did the *Tiger* boord,
When your *yong Nephew* *Titus* loft his legge;
Heere in the streets, desperate of ſhame and itate,
In private brabble did we apprerehend him.

Vio. He did me kindneſſe ſir, drew on my ſide,
But in conclusion put ſtrange ſpeech vpon me,
I know not what 'twas, but difſtraſtion.

Du. Notable Pyrate, thou ſalt-water Theeſe,
What ſooliſh boldneſſe brought thee to their mercies,
Thow thou in termes ſo bloudie, and ſo deere
Haſt made thine enemies?

Ant. Orſino: Noble ſir,
Be pleas'd that I ſhake off theſe names you giue mee:
*Anthony* neuer yet was Theeſe, or Pyrate,
Though I conſeſſe, on bafe and ground enough
*Orſino's* enemie. A Witchcraft drew me hither:
That moſt ingratefull boy there by your ſide,
From the rude ſeas enrag'd and foamy mouth
Did I redeeme: a wracke paff hope he was:
His life I gaue him, and did thereto adde
My loue without retention, or reſtraint,
All his in dedication. For his falſe,
Did I expeſe my ſelſe (pure for his loue)
Into the danger of this aduerſe Towne,
Drew to defend him, when he was beſet :
Where being apprehended, his falſe cunning
(Not meaning to partake with me in danger)
Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance,

And

273

And grew a twentie yeeres remoued thing
While one would winke : denide me mine owne purse,
Which I had recommended to his vse,
Not halfe an hour before.

Not halfe an hour before.
Vio. How can this be?

Vio. When came he to this Towne?

Vio. When came he to this Towne?
Ant. To day my Lord : and for three months before,
No intrim, not a minutes vacancie,

No intrim, not a minutes vacancie,
Both day and night did we keepe companie.

Both day and night did we keepe companie.
Enter Olinia and attendants.

Enter Olinia and attendants.
Dn. Heere comes the Countesse, now heauen walkes on earth:

But for thee fellow, fellow thy words are madeneffe,
Three months this youth hath tended vpon mee,
But more of that anon. Take him aside.

But more of that anon. Take him aside.
Ol. What would my Lord, but that he may not haue,
Wherein Olinia may feeme ferveivable?

Wherein Olinia may feeme ferveivable?
Cefario, you do not keepe promise with me.

Vio. Madam:

Vio. Gracious Olinia.

Vio. What do you say Cefario? Good my Lord.

Vio. My Lord would fpeake, my dutie hufhes me.

Vio. If it be ought to the old tune my Lord,
It is as fat and fulsome to mine care

As howling after Musickie.

Dn. Still so cruell?

Dn. Still so constant Lord.

Dn. What to perueneneffe : you vncuilli Ladie

To whose ingrate, and vnauispicious Altars

My foule the faithfull offrings haue breath'd out
That ere deuotion tender'd. What shall I do?

That ere deuotion tender'd. What shall I do?
Ol. Euen what it pleafe my Lord, that shall becom him

Ol. Why should I not, (had I the heart to do it)
Like to th'Egyptian theefe, at point of death

Kill what I loue: (a sausage iouelouse,
That sometime fauours nobly) but heare me this:

That sometime fauours nobly) but heare me this:
Since you to non-regardance caft my faith,

Since you to non-regardance caft my faith,
And that I partly know the instrument

And that I partly know the instrument
That screwes me from my true place in your fauour :

That screwes me from my true place in your fauour :
Lie you the Marble-brefted Tirant full.

But this your Minion, whom I know you loue,
And whom, by heauen I fweare, I tender deereely,
Him will I teare out of that cruell eye,
Where he fits crowned in his mafters fpight.

Come boy with me, my thoughts are ripe in miſchiche:

Ile faſcinate the Lambe that I do loue,

To ſpight a Rauens heart within a Doue.

Vio. And I moſt iocund, apt, and willinglie,

To do you reſt, a thousand deaths would dye.

Ol. Where goes Cefario?

Vio. After him I loue,

More then I loue theſe eyes, more then my life,

More by all more, more ere I ſhall loue wife.

If I do ſigne, you witneſſes above

Punish my life, for tainting of my loue.

Ol. Aye me deteſted, how am I beguil'd?

Vio. Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong?

Ol. Haſt thou forgiſeth thy ſelfe ? Is it so long?

Call forth the holy Father.

Dn. Come, away.

Ol. Whether my Lord? Cefario, Husband, stay.

Dn. Husband?

Ol. I Husband. Can he that deny ?

Dn. Her husband, firrah ?

Vio. No my Lord, not I.

Ol. Alas, it is the bafeſeneſſe of thy ſeare,

That makes thee ſtrangle thy propriety :
Feare not Cefario, take thy fortunes vp,
Bethat thou knowſt thou art, and then thou art
As great as that thou feare it.

Enter Priest.

O welcome Father :

Father, I charge thee by thy reverence

Heere to vnfold, though lately we intended

To keepe in darkeneſſe, what occasion now

Reueales before this ripe : what thou doſt know

Hath newly papt, betweene this youth, and me.

Priest. A Contract of eternall bond of loue,

Confirm'd by mutuall ioynder of your hands,

Atteſhed by the holy cloſe of lippe,

Strengthned by enterchangement of your rings,

And all the Ceremonie of this compact

Seal'd in my function, by my reſtimony:

Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my graue

I haue trauail'd but two hours.

Dn. O thou diſlembling Cub : what wilt thou be

When time hath fow'd a grizzle on thy cafe?

Or will not else thy craft to quickly grow,

That thine owne trip ſhall be thine ouerthrow :

Farewell, and take her, but direct thy ſeete,

Where thou, and I (henceforth) may neuer meet.

Vio. My Lord, I do proteſt.

Ol. O do not ſweare,

Hold little faith, though thou haſt too much ſeare.

Enter Sir Andrew.

And. For the loue of God a Surgeon, ſend one pre-
fently to fir Toby.

Ol. What's the matter ?

And. H'as broke my head a-croſſe, and has giuen Sir
Toby a bloody Coxcombe too : for the loue of God your
helpe, I had rather then forty pound I were at home.

Ol. Who has done this fir Andrew?

And. The Counts Gentleman, one Cefario: we tooke
him for a Coward, but hee's the verie diuell, incardinate.

Dn. My Gentleman Cefario?

And. Odd's lifelings heere he is: you broke my head for nothing, and that that I did, I was ſet on to do't by fir Toby.

Vio. Why do you ſpeake to me, I neuer hurt you:
you drew your fword vpon me without caufe;
But I beſpake you faire, and hurt you not.

Enter Toby and Clowne.

And. If a bloody coxcombe be a hurt, you haue hurt
me: I thinke you ſet nothing by a bloody Coxecombe.
Heere comes fir Toby halting, you ſhall heare more: but if
he had not beene in drinke, hee would haue tickel'd you
other gates then he did.

Dn. How now Gentleman? how iſt with you ?

To. That's all one, has hurt me, and there's th'end on't:
Sot, didt ſee Dicke Surgeon, ſot?

Clo. O he's drunke fir Toby an houre agone : his eyes
were ſet at eight i'th morning.

To. Then he's a Rogue, and a paffy measures pany : I
hate a drunken rogue.

Ol. Away with him ? Who hath made this haueocke
with them?

And. Ile helpe you fir Toby, becauſe we'll be drest to-
gether.

To. Will you helpe an Aſſe-head, and a coxcombe, &
a knaue : a thin fac'd knaue, a gull?

Ol.

274

Ol. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd too.

Enter Sebastian.

Seb. I am forsy Madam I haue hurt your kinfman:
But had it beene the brother of my blood,
I muſt haue done no leſſe with wit and ſafety.

You throw a ſtrange regard vpon me, and by that
I do perceiue it hath offended you:
Pardon me (sweet one) euen for the vowes
We made each other, but ſo late ago.

Du. One face, one voice, one habit, and two perſons,
A naturall Periſtience, that is, and is not.

Seb. Anthony: O my deere Anthony,
How haue the hours rack'd, and tortur'd me,
Since I haue loft thee?

Ant. Sebastian are you?

Seb. Fear't thou that Anthony?

Ant. How haue you made diuifion of your ſelfe,
An apple cleft in two, is not more twi
Then theſe two creatures. Which is Sebastian?

Ol. Moſt wonderfull.

Seb. Do I ſtand there? I neuer had a brother:
Nor can there be that Deity in my nature

Of heere, and euery where. I had a ſifter,
Whom the blinde waues and ſurges haue deuour'd:
Of charity, what kinne are you to me?

What Countreyman? What name? What Parentage?

Vio. Of Mefſaline: Sebastian was my Father,
Such a Sebastian was my brother too:

So went he ſuited to his watery tombe:
If ſpirits can aſume both ſorme and ſuite,
You come to fright vs.

Seb. A ſpirit I am indeed,
But am in that dimenſion groſtely clad,
Which from the tombe I did participate.
Were you a woman, as the reſt goes euen,
I should my ſeares let fall vpon your чeeke,
And ſay, thrice welcome drowned Viola.

Vio. My father had a moale vpon his brow.

Seb. And ſo had mine.

Vio. And dide that day when Viola from her birth
Had numbred thirteene yeares.

Seb. O that record is lively in my ſoule,
He ſinſhed indeed his mortall acte

That day that made my ſifter thirteene yeares.

Vio. If nothing lets to make vs happie both,
But this my maſculine vſurp'd attyre:

Do not embrace me, till each circumſtance,
Of place, time, fortune, do co-here and iume
That I am Viola, which to confirme,

Ile bring you to a Captaine in this Towne,
Where lye my maiden weeds: by whose gentle helpe,
I was preferu'd to ſerue this Noble Count:

All the occurrence of my fortune ſince
Hath beene betweene this Lady, and this Lord.

Seb. So comes it Lady, you haue beene miſtooke:
But Nature to her bias drew in that.

You would haue bin contracted to a Maid,
Nor are you therein (by my life) deceiu'd,
You are betroth'd both to a maid and man.

Du. Be not amaz'd, right noble is his blood:
If this be ſo, as yet the glaſſe ſeemes true,

I ſhall haue ſhare in this moſt happy wracke,
Boy, thou haſt ſaide to me a thouſand times,
Thou neuer ſhould't loue woman like to me.

Vio. And all that ſayings, will I ouer ſweare,
And all that ſwearings keepe as true in ſoule,

As doth that Orbed Continent, the fire,
That ſeuers day from night.

Du. Giue me thy hand,
And let me fee thee in thy womans weedeſ.

Vio. The Captaine that did bring me firſt on ſhore
Hath my Maideſs garments: he vpon ſome Action
Is now in durance, at Malnolio's ſuite,

A Gentleman, and ſollower of my Ladies.

Ol. He ſhall inſ large him: fetch Malnolio hither,
And yet alas, now I remember me,

They ſay poore Gentleman, he's much diſtraſt.

Enter Clewne with a Letter, and Fabian.

A moſt extraſting frenſie of mine owne
From my remembrance, clearly baniſt his,
How does he firrah?

Cl. Truely Madam, he holds Belzebub at the ſtaues end as well as a man in his caſe may do: has heere writ a letter to you, I ſhould haue giuen't you to day morning. But as a madmans Epiftles are no Goſpels, ſo it skilles not much when they are deliuer'd.

Ol. Open't, and read it.

Clo. Looke then to be well edified, when the Foole
deliuers the Madman. By the Lord Madam.

Ol. How now, art thou mad?

Clo. No Madam, I do but reade madneſſe: and your
Ladyſhip will haue it as it ought to bee, you muſt allow
Vox.

Ol. Prethee reade i'thy right wits.

Clo. So I do Madona: but to reade his right wits, to
reade thus: therefore, perpend my Princeſſe, and giue
care.

Ol. Read it you, firrah.

Fab. Read'st you, Madam, by the Lord Madam, you wrong me, and the world ſhall know it: Though you haue put me into darkeneſſe, and giuen your drunken Cofine rule ouer me, yet haue I the benefit of my ſenſes as well as your Ladyſhip. I haue your owne letter, that induced mee to the ſembance I put on; with the which I doubt not, but to do my ſelfe much right, or you much ſhame: thinke of me as you please. I leaue my duty a little vnthought of, and ſpeake out of my inury. The madly vs'd Malnolio.

Ol. Did he write this?

Clo. I Madame.

Du. This ſauours not much of diſtraſtion.

Ol. See him deliuer'd Fabian, bring him hither:
My Lord, ſo pleafe you, theſe things further thought on,
To thinke me as well a ſifter, as a wife,
One day ſhall crowne th'alliance on't, ſo pleafe you,
Heere at my houſe, and at my proper coſt.

Du. Madam, I am moſt apt t'embrace your offer:
Your Maſter quits you: and for your ſeruice done him,
So much againſt the mettle of his ſex,
So farre beneath your ſoft and tender breeſing,
And ſince you call'd me Maſter, for ſo long:
Heere is my hand, you ſhall from this time bee
your Maſters Miſtris.

Ol. A ſifter, you are ſhe.

Enter Maluolio.

Du. Is this the Madman?

Ol. I my Lord, this fame: How now Maluolio?

Mal. Madam, you haue done me wrong,
Notorious wrong.

Ol. Haue I Maluolio? No.

Mal. Lady you haue, pray you perſuse that Letter.
You muſt not now denie it is your hand,
Write from it if you can, in hand, or phrase,

Or

275

Or say, tis not your feale, not your invention:
You can say none of this. Well, grant it then,
And tell me in the modeſtie of honor,
Why you have giuen me ſuch cleare lights of fauour,
Bad me come ſmiling, and croſſe-garter'd to you,
To put on yellow ſtockings, and to frowne
Upon ſir *Toby*, and the lighter people:
And acting this in an obedient hope,
Why haue you ſuffer'd me to be imprifon'd,
And made the moſt notorious gecke and gull,
That ere invention plaid on ? Tell me why ?
O! Alas *Maluolio*, this is not my writing,
Though I conſeſſe much like the Charracter:
But out of question, tis *Marias* hand.

But now I do bethinke me, it was ſhee
And now I haue told me thou waſt mad; then cam't in ſmiling,
And in ſuch formes, which heere were preſuppos'd
Upon thee in the Letter: prethee be content,
This practice hath moſt ſhrewdly paſt vpon thee:
But when we know the grounds, and authors of it,
Thou ſhalt be both the Plaintiffe and the Iudge
Ofline owne cause.

Ed. Good Madam heare me ſpeake,
And let no quarrell, nor no braule to come,
Taint the condition of this prefent houre,
Which I haue wondred at. In hope it ſhall not,
Moft freely I conſeſſe my ſelfe, and *Toby*
Set this deuice againſt *Maluolio* heere,
Upon ſome ſubborne and vncourteous parts
We had conceiu'd againſt him. *Maria* writ
The Letter, at ſir *Toby's* great importance,
In recompence whereof, he hath married her:
How with a ſportfull malice it was follow'd,
May rather plucke on laughter then reuenge,
If that the injuries he iuſtly weigh'd,
That haue on both ſides paſt.

Ol. Alas poore Foole, how haue they baffel'd thee?
Cl. Why ſome are borne great, ſome atchieue great-
neſt, and ſome haue greatneſt throwne vpon them. I
was one fir, in this Enterlude, one fir *Topas* fir, but that's

all one: By the Lord Foole, I am not mad: but do you re-
member, Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rafcal,
and you smile not he's gag'd: and thus the whirlegigge
of time, brings in his reuenges.

Mal. Ile be reueng'd on the whole packe of you?
Ol. He hath bene moſt notoriously abus'd.

Du. Purſue him, and entreate him to a peace:
He hath not told vs of the Captaine yet,
When that is knowne, and golden time conuents
A ſolemne Combination ſhall be made
Of our deere ſoules. Meane time sweet ſifter,
We will not part from hence. Cefario come
(For so you ſhall be while you are a man!)
But when in other habites you are ſeene,
Orſino's Miftris, and his fancies Queene.

Exeunt

Clowne ſings.

When that I was and a little tine boy,
with hey, ho, the winde and the raine:
A foolish thing was but a toy,
for the raine it raineth every day.

But when I came to man's eſtate,
with hey ho, &c.
Gainst Knanes and Theeues men flut their gate,
for the raine, &c.

But when I came alas to wine,
with hey ho, &c.
By swagging could I neuer druiue,
for the raine, &c.

But when I came vnto my beds,
with hey ho, &c.
With toſpottes ſtill had drunken heads,
for the raine, &c.

A great while ago the world began,
hey ho, &c.
But that's all one, our Play is done,
and weel I strike to please you every day.

FINIS.

277

The Winters Tale.

Actus Primus. Scæna Prima.

Enter Camillo and Archidamus.

Arch.

If you shall chance (Camillo) to visit Bohemia, on
the like occasion whereon my seruices are now
on-foot, you shall fee (as I haue faid) great dif-
ference betwixt our Bohemia, and your Sicilia.

Cam. I thinke, this comming Summer, the King of
Sicilia means to pay Bohemia the Visitation, which he
justly owes him.

Arch. Wherein our Entertainment shall name vs: we
will be justified in our Loues : for indeed—

Cam. 'Befeech you—

Arch. Verely I speake it in the freedome of my know-
ledge: we cannot with such magnificence— in so rare—
I know not what to say— Wee will giue you sleepie
Drinkes, that your Sences (vn-intelligent of our infuffi-
cience) may, though they cannot prayle vs, as little ac-
cuse vs.

Cam. You pay a great deale to deare, for what's giuen
freely.

Arch. 'Beleue me, I speake as my understanding in-
fructs me, and as mine houestie puts it to vtterance.

Cam. Sicilia cannot show himfelfe ouer-kind to Bohemia: They were trayn'd together in their Child-hoods; and there rooted betwixt them then such an affection, which cannot chufe but braunch now. Since their more mature Dignities, and Royall Necessities, made separation of their Societie, their Encounters (though not Perſonall) hath been Royally attorneyed with enter-change of Gifts, Letters, louing Embassies, that they haue seem'd to be together, though absent: fhooke hands, as ouer a Vast; and embrac'd as it were from the ends of oppofed Winds. The Heauens continue their Loues.

Arch. I think there is not in the World, either Malice
or Matter, to alter it. You haue an vnſpeakable comfort
of your young Prince Mamilius: it is a Gentleman of the
greatesh Promife, that euer came into my Note.

Cam. I very well agree with you, in the hopes of him:
it is a gallant Child; one, that (indeed) Phyſicks the Sub-
ject, makes old hearts fresh: they that went on Crutches
to the he was borne, defire yet their life, to fee him a Man.

Arch. Would they eſſe be content to die?

Cam. Yes; if there were no other excufe, why they should
deliue to die.

Arch. If the King had no Sonne, they would defire to
lie on Crutches till he had one.

Exeunt.

Scæna Secunda.

Enter Leontes, Hermione, Mamillius, Polixenes, Camillo.
Pol. Nine Changes of the Watry-Starre hath been

The Shepheards Note, since we haue left our Throne
Without a Burthen: Time as long againe
Would be fill'd vp(my Brother) with our Thanks,
And yet we should, for perpetuitie,
Goe hence in debt: And therefore, like a Cypher
(Yet standing in rich place) I multiply
With one we thanke you, many thousands moe,
That goe before it.

Leo. Stay your Thanks a while,
And pay them when you part.

Pol. Sir, that's to morrow :

I am queſtion'd by my feares, of what may chance,
Or breed upon our abſence, that may blow
No ſneaping Winds at home, to make vs ſay,
This is put forth too truly: beſides, I haue ſtay'd
To tyre your Royaltie.

Leo. We are tougher (Brother)
Then you can put vs to't.

Pol. No longer ſtay.

Leo. One Seue'night longer.

Pol. Very ſooth, to morrow.

Leo. Wee'le part the time betweene's then: and in that
lie no gaine-faying.

Pol. Prefle me not ('befeech you) ſo:
There is no Tongue that moues; none, none i'th' World
So ſoone as yours, could win me: ſo it ſhould now,
Were there neceſſitie in your requeſt, although
I were needfull I deny'd it. My Affaires
Doe euen drag me home-ward: which to hinder,
Were (in your Loue) a Whip to me; my ſtay,
To you a Charge, and Trouble: to faue both,
Farewell (our Brother.)

Leo. Tongue-ty'd our Queene? ſpeake you.

Her. I had thought (Sir) to haue held my peace, vntill
You had drawne Oathes from him, not to ſtay: you (Sir)
Charge him too coldly. Tell him, you are ſure
All in Bohemia's well: this ſatisfaction,
The by-gone-day proclaym'd, ſay this to him,
He's beat from his beſt ward.

Leo. Well faid, Hermione.

Her. To tell, he longs to fee his Sonne, were ſtrong:
But let him ſay ſo then, and let him goe;
But let him ſwere ſo, and he shall not ſtay,
Wee'le thwack him hence with Diftaffes.
Yet of your Royall prefence, Ile aduenture
The borow of a Weeke. When at Bohemia
You take my Lord, Ile giue him my Commiffion,
To let him there a Moneth, behind the Geſt
Prefix'd for his parting: yet (good-deed) Leontes,
I loue thee not a Iarre o'th' Clock, behind

A a

What

["The Winters Tale.", "278", "What Lady she her Lord. You'll flay ?", "Pol. No, Madame.", "Her. Nay, but you will ?", "Pol. I may not verely.", "Her. Verely?", "You put me off with limber: Vowes: but I,", "Though you would feek't vn sphere the Stars with Oaths,", "Should yet fay, Sir, no going: Verely", "You shall not goe; a Ladyes Verely?' is", "As potent as a Lords. Will you goe yet?", "Force me to keepe you as a Prifoner,", "Not like a Gueft: so you shall pay your Fees", "When you depart, and faue your Thanks, How fay you?", "My Prifoner ? or my Gueft ? by your dread Verely,", "One of them you shall be.", "Pol. Your Gueft then, Madame :", "To be your Prifoner; should import offending;", "Which is for me, leſſe eſſe to commit,", "Then you to puniſh.", "Her. Not your Gaoler then,", "But your kind Hofteſſe. Come, Ile queſtion you", "Of my Lords Tricks, and yours, when you were Boyes :", "You were pretty Lordings then ?", "Pol. We were (faire Queene)", "Two Lads, that thought there was no more behind,", "But fuch a day to morrow, as to day,", "And to be Boy eternall.", "Her. Was not my Lord", "The veryer Wag o'th' two ?", "Pol. We were as twyn'd Lambs, that did frisk i'th' Sun,", "And bleat the one at th' other: what we chang'd,", "Was Innocence, for Innocence: we knew not", "The DoCTRine of ill-doing, nor dream'd", "That any did: Had we purfu'd that life,", "And our weake Spirits ne're been higher rear'd", "With ſtronger blood, we should haue anſwer'd Heauen", "Boldly, not guilty; the Impofition clear'd,", "Hereditare ours.", "Her. By this we gather", "You haue tript ſince.", "Pol. O my moſt ſacred Lady,", "Temperations haue ſince then been borne to's: for", "In thate vnſled'd dayes, was my Wife a Girl;", "Your precious ſelfe had then not cros'd the eyes", "Of my young Play-fellow.", "Her. Grace to boot:", "Of this make no conclusion, leaſt you ſay", "Your Queene and I are Deuils: yet goe on,", "Th' offences we haue made you doe, wee'le anſwere,", "If you firſt ſinn'd with vs; and that with vs", "You did continue fauile; and that you ſlipt not", "With any, but with vs.", "Leo. Is he woon yet ?", "Her. Hee'le flay (my Lord.)", "Leo. At my requeſt, he would not :", "Hermione (my deareft) thou neuer ſpoak'ſt", "To better purpose.", "Her. Neuer ?", "Leo. Neuer, but once.", "Her. What? haue I twice faid well? when was't before?", "I prethee tell me: cram's with prayſe, and make's", "As fat as tame things: One good deed, dying tongueleſſe,\nSlaughters a thouſand, waytting vpon that.", "Our prayſes are our Wages. You may ride's", "With one ſoft Kiffle a thouſand Furlongs, ere", "With Spur we heat an Acre. But to th' Goale :", "My laſt good deed, was to entreat his ſlay.", "What was my firſt? it ha's an elder Sifter,\nOr I miſtake you: O, would her Name were Græce,\nBut once before I ſpoke to th' purpose ? when?", "Nay, let me haue't: I long.", "Leo. Why, that was when", "Three crabbed Moneths had ſowrd themſelues to death.", "Ere I could make thee open thy white Hand:", "A clap thy ſelfe, my Loue; then didſt thou vtter,", "I am yours for euer.", "Her. Tis Grace indeed,", "Why lo-you now; I haue ſpoke to th' purpose twice:", "The one, for euer earn'd a Royall Husband;", "Th' other, for ſome while a Friend.", "Leo. Too hot, too hot :", "To mingle friendſhip farre, is mingling bloods,\nI haue *Tremor Cordis* on me: my heart daunces,\nBut not for ioy; not ioy. This Entertainment", "May a free face put on: deriue a Libertie", "From Heartineſſe, from Bountie, ſertile Bofome,\nAnd well become the Agent: it may; I graunt:", "But to be padling Palmes, and pinching Fingers,\nAs now they are, and making practis'd Smiles", "As in a Looking-Glaſſe; and then to ſigh, as 'twere", "The Mort o' th' Deere: oh, that is entertainment", "My Bofome likes not, nor my Browes. *Mamilicu*,", "Art thou my Boy ?", "Mam. I, my good Lord.", "Leo. I'fecks:", "Why that's my Bawcock: what? has't ſmutch'd thy Nolfe", "They ſay it is a Coppy out of mine. Come Captaigne,", "We muſt be neat; not neat, but cleanly; Captaigne:", "And yet the Steere, the Heycfer, and the Calfe,", "Are all call'd Neat. Still Virginalling", "Vpon his Palme? How now (you wanton Calſe)", "Art thou my Calfe ?", "Mama. Yes, if you will (my Lord.)", "Leo. Thou want'ſt a rough path, & the shoots that I haue\nTo be full, like me: yet they ſay we are", "Almoſt as like as Egges; Women ſay so,", "(That will ſay any thing.) But were they ſalſe", "As o're-dy'd Blacks, as Wind, as Waters; ſalſe", "As Dice are to be wifh'd, by one that fixes", "No borne 'twixt his and mine; yet were it true,", "To ſay this Boy were like me. Come (Sir Page)", "Looke on me with your Welkin eye: ſweet Villaine,", "Moſt dear'ſt, my Collop: Can thy Dam, may't be", "Affection? thy Intention ſtabs the Center.", "Thou do'ſt make poffible things not so held,\nCommunicat'ſt with Dreames (how can this be?)", "With what's vnreall: thou coactiue art,", "And fellow'ſt nothing. Then'tis very credent,", "Thou may'ſt co-ioyne with ſomething, and thou doth,", "(And that beyond Commiſſion) and I find it,", "(And that to the infection of my Braines,", "And hardning of my Browes.)", "Pol. What means Sicilia?", "Her. He ſomething ſeemes vnſetled.", "Pol. How? my Lord?", "Leo. What cheere? how is't with you, beſt Brother?\nHer. You look as if you held a Brow of much diſtraction.", "Are you mou'd (my Lord)?", "Leo. No, in good earneſt.", "How ſometimes Nature will betray it's folly?", {"bbox

The Winters Tale.

279

Of my Boyes face, me thoughts I did requoyle
Twentie three yeeres, and faw my felfe vn-breech'd,
In my greene Velvet Coat; my Dagger muzzel'd,
Leaft it should bite it's Mafter, and to proue
(As Ornaments of do's) too dangerous:
How like (me thought) I then was to this Kernell,
This Squash, this Gentleman. Mine honest Friend,
Will you take Egges for Money ?

Mam. No (my Lord) Ile fight.

Leo. You will: why happy man be's dole. My Brother
Are you so fond of your young Prince, as we
Doe leeme to be of ours?

Pol. If at home (Sir)

He's all my Exercise, my Mirth, my Matter;
Now my (worn) Friend, and then mine Enemy;
My Parasite, my Souldier: Statef-man; all:
He makes a Iulyes day, short as December,
And with his varying chuld-neffe, cures in me
Thoughts, that would thick my blood,

Leo. So stands this Squire

Off'd with me: We two will walke (my Lord)
And leaue you to your grauer steps. Hermione,
How thou lou't vs, lew in our Brothers welcome;
Let what is deare in Sicily, be cheap:
Next to thy felfe, and my young Rouer, he's
Apparent to my heart.

Hr. If you would feeke vs,

We are yours i'th'Garden: shall'st attend you there?

Leo. To your owne Bents diſpote you: you le be found,
Be you beneath the Sky: I am angling now,
(Though you perceiue me not how I giue Lyne)
Goe too, goe too.

How ſh't holds vp the Neb? the Byll to him?

And armes her with the boldneſſe of a Wite

To her allowing Husband. Gone already,
Ynch-thick knee-deepe; ore head and eares a fork'd one.

Goe play (Boy) play: thy Mother playes, and I

Play too; but so diſgrac'd a part, whose ſiue

Will hiffie me to my Graue: Contempt and Clamor

Will be my Knell. Goe play (Boy) play, there haue been
(Or I am much deceu'd) Cuckolds ere now,

And many a man there is (euen at this prefent,

Now, while I ſpeake this) holds his Wife by th'Arme,

That little thinkes (he ha's been fluy'd in's absence,

And his Pond ſiſh'd by his next Neighbor (by

Sir Smile; his Neighbor:) nay, there's comfort in't,

Whiles other men haue Gates, and thofe Gates open'd
(As mine) against their will. Should all defpaire

That haue revolted Wines, the tenth of Mankind

Would hang themefles. Physick for't, there's none:

It is a bawdy Planet, that will strike

Where't is predominant; and 'tis powrefull: thinke it:
From East, West, North, and South, be it concluded,

No Barricado for a Belly. Know't,

It will let in and out the Enemy,

With bag and baggage: many thoufand on's

Have the Difeafe, and feele't not. How now Boy ?

Mam. I am like you, lay.

What? Camillo there?

Cam. I, my good Lord.

Leo. Goe play (Mamilliu) thou'rt an honest man:
Camillo, this great Sir will yet flay longer.

Cam. You had much adoe to make his Anchor hold,
When you caſt out, it still came home.

Leo. Didſt note it?

Cam. He would not flay at your Petitions, made
His Buſineſſe more materiall.

Leo. Didſt perceiue it?

They're here with me already; whisp'ring, rounding:

Sicilia is a ſo-ſorth: 'tis farre gone,

When I ſhall gveſt it laſt. How cam't (Camillo)

That he did ſlay?

Cam. At the good Queenes entreatie.

Leo. At the Queenes be't: Good should be pertinent,
But ſo it is, it is not. Was this taken

By any vnderſtanding Pate but thine?

For thy Conceit is toaking, will draw in
More then the common Blocks. Not noted, is't,

But of the finer Natures? by ſome Seueralls

Of Head-peece extraordinary? Lower Mefſſes

Perchance are to this Buſineſſe purblind ? ſay.

Cam. Buſineſſe, my Lord? I thinke moſt vnderſtand
Bohemia ſtayes here longer.

Leo. Ha?

Cam. Stayes here longer.

Leo. I, but why?

Cam. To satisfie your Highneſſe, and the Entreaties
Of our moſt gracious Miftrefſſe.

Leo. Satisfie?

Th'entreaties of your Miftrefſſe? Satisfie?

Let that ſuffice. I haue truſted thee (Camillo)

With all the neeſt things to my heart, as well
My Chamber-Counſels, wherein (Priſſt-like) thou

Haſt cleans'd my Boſome: I, from thee departed

Thy Penitent reſorn'd; but we haue been

Deceu'd in thy Integritie, deceu'd

In that which ſeemes ſo.

Cam. Be it forbid (my Lord.)

Leo. To bide vpon't: thou art not honest: or

If thou inclin'ſt that way, thou art a Coward,

Which hoxes honestie behind, reſtrayning

From Courſe reſu'rd: or eſſe thou muſt be counted

A Servant, grafted in my ſerious Truſt,

And therein negligent: or eſſe a Foole,

That ſeeth a Game play'd home, the rich Stake drawne,
And tak'ſt it all for ieaſt.

Cam. My gracious Lord,

I may be negligent, fooliſh, and ſeaſefull,

In euery one of theſe, no man is free,
But that his negligence, his folly, ſeaſe,

Among the infinite doings of the World,

Sometime puts forth in your affaires (my Lord.)

If euer I were wilſull-negligent,

It was my ſolly : if induſtriously

I play'd the Foole, it was my negligence,

Not weighing well the end: if euer ſeaſefull

To doe a thing, where I the ſiue doubted,

Whereof the execution did cry out

Against the non-performance, 'twas a ſeaſe

Which oft infects the wifed: theſe (my Lord)

Are ſuch allow'd Inſirmities, that honestie

Is neuer free of. But beſeeth your Grace

Be plainer with me, let me know my Trefpaſſ

By it's owne viſage; if I then deny it,

'Tis none of mine.

Leo. Ha' not you ſeeue Camillo?
(But that's paſt doubt: you haue, or your eye-glaffe
Is thicker then a Cuckolds Horne) or heard?
(For to a Viſion so apparant, Rumor
Cannot be mute) or thought? (for Cogitation
Resides not in that man, that do's not thinke)

Aa 2

My

The Winters Tale.

280

My Wife is flipperie ? If thou wilt conſeſſe,
Or eſſe be impudently negatiue,
To haue nor Eyes,nor Eares,nor Thought,then ſay
My Wife's a Holy-Horſe,deſerues a Name
As ranke as any Flax-Wench,that puts to
Before her troth-plight: ſay't,and iuſtify't.

Cam. I would not be a ſtander-by, to heare
My Soueraigne Miftreſſe clouded ſo, without
My preſent vengeance taken: 'ſhrew my heart,
You neuer ſpoke what did become you ſelſe
Then this; which to reiterate, were in
As deepe as that,though true.

Leo. Is whispering nothing ?

Is leaning Cheeke to Cheeke ? is meating Noſes ?
Kiffing with in-fide Lip? flopping the Cariere
Of Laugher, with a fight? (a Note infallible
Of breaking Honeftie) horſing foot on foot?
Skulking in corners? wifhing Clocks more ſwift?
Houres, Minutes? Noone, Mid-night ? and all Eyes
Blind with the Pin and Web, but theirs; theirs onely,
That would vnſene be wicked? Is this nothing?
Why then the World, and all that's in't, is nothing,
The couering Skie is nothing, Bohemia nothing,
My Wife is nothing, nor Nothing haue these Nothings,
If this be nothing.

Cam. Good my Lord, be cur'd
Of this diſeaſ'd Opinion, and betimes,
For 'tis moſt dangerous.

Leo. Say it be, 'tis true.

Cam. No, no, my Lord.

Leo. It is: you lye, you lye :

I ſay thou lyeſt Camillo, and I hate thee,
Pronounce thee a groſſe Lowt, a mindleſſe Slave,
Or eſſe a houring Temporizer, that
Canſt with thine eyes at once ſee good and euill,
Inclining to them both: were my Wives Liuer
Infected (as her life) ſhe would not liue
The running of one Glaffe.

Cam. Who do's infect her ?

Leo. Why he that weares her like her Medull, hanging
About his neck (Bohemia) who, if I
Had Servants true about me, that bare eyes
To fee alike mine Honor, as their Profits,
(Their owne particular Thrifts) they would doe that
Which ſhould vnſoe more doing: I, and thou
His Cup-bearer, whom I from meaner forme
Haue Bench'd, and rear'd to Wotſhip, who may'ſt ſee
Plainely, as Heauen ſees Earth, and Earth ſees Heauen,
How I am gall'd, might'ſt be ſpice a Cup,
To giue mine Enemy a laſting Winke:
Which Draught to me, were cordiall.

Cam. Sir (my Lord)

I could doe this, and that with no rafh Potion,
But with a lingring Dram, that ſhould not worke
Maliciously, like Poyſon: But I cannot
Beleeue this Crack to be in my dread Miftreſſe
(So ſoueraignely being Honorable.)

I haue lou'd thee,

Leo. Make that thy queſtion, and goe rot:
Do't thinke I am so muddy, so vnſetled,
To appoint my ſelfe in this vexation?

Sully the puritie and whitenefſe of my Sheetes
(Which to preferue, is Sleepe; which being ſpotted,
Is Goades, Thornes, Nettles, Tayles of Walpes)
Gue ſcandall to the blood o'th' Prince, my Sonne,
(Who I doe thinke is mine, and loue as mine)

Without ripe mouing to't? Would I doe this,
Could man ſo blench?

Cam. I muſt beleeue you (Sir)

I doe, and will fetch off Bohemia for't:
Prouided, that when hee's remou'd, your Highneſſe
Will take againe your Queene, as yours at first,
Euen for your Sonnes ſake, and thereby for leeling
The Iniurie of Tongues, in Courts and Kingdomes
Knowne, and ally'd to yours.

Leo. Thou do'st aduife me,
Euen ſo as I mine owne courſe haue ſet downe:
Ile giue no blemiſh to her Honor, none.

Cam. My Lord,

Goe then; and with a countenance as clear
As Friendship weares at Feaſts, keepe with Bohemia,
And with your Queene: I am his Cup-bearer,
If from me he haue wholeſome Beueridge,
Account me not your Seruant.

Leo. This is all :

Do't, and thou haſt the one haſſe of my heart;
Do't not, thou ſplitt'ſt thine owne.

Cam. Ile do't, my Lord.

Leo. I wil ſeeme friendly, as thou haſt aduised me, Exi
Cam. O miſerable Lady. But for me,

What cafe ſtand I in ? I muſt be the poyſoner
Of good Polixenes, and my ground to do't,
Is the obedience to a Maſter; one,

Who in Rebellion with himſelfe, will haue
All that are his, ſo too. To doe this deed,
Promotion followes: If I could find example

Of thouſand's that had ſtruck anoynted Kings,
And flouriſh'd after, I'd not do't: But ſince
Nor Braſſe, nor Stone, nor Parchment beares not one,

Let Villanie it ſelfe forſwear't. I muſt
Forſake the Court: to do't, or no, is certaine

To me a breake-neck. Happy Starre raigne now,
Here comes Bohemia. Enter Polixenes.

Pol. This is ſtrange: Me thinkes
My fauor here begins to warpe. Not ſpeake?

Good day Camillo.

Cam. Hayle moſt Royall Sir.

Pol. What is the Newes i'th' Court?

Cam. None rare (my Lord.)

Pol. The King hath on him ſuch a countenance,
As he had loft ſome Prouince, and a Region
Lou'd, as he loues himſelfe: euen now I met him
With cuſtomarie complement, when hee
Waſting his eyes to th' contrary, and falling
A Lippe of much contempt, ſpeedes from me, and
So leaues me, to confider what is breeding,
That changes thus his Manners.

Cam. I dare not know (my Lord.)

Pol. How, dare not? do not? do you know, and dare not
Be intelligent to me, 'tis thereabouts :

For to your ſelfe, what you doe know, you muſt,
And cannot ſay, you dare not. Good Camillo,
Your chang'd complexions are to me a Mirror,
Which ſhewes me mine chang'd too: for I muſt be
A partie in this alteration, finding
My ſelfe thus alter'd with't.

Cam. There is a ſickneſſe
Which puts ſome of vs in diſtemper, but
I cannot name the Difeaſe, and it is caught
Of you, that yet are well.

Pol. How caught of me?
Make me not fighted like the Bafilique.

I haue

The Winters Tale.

281

I haue look'd on thousands, who haue sped the better
By my regard, but kill'd none so : Camillo,
As you are certainly a Gentleman, thereto
Clerke-like experience'd, which no lesse adorns
Our Gentry, then our Parents Noble Names,
In whose fucceſſe we are gentle : I befeech you,
If you know ought which do's behoue my knowledge,
Thereof to be inform'd, imprimon't not
In ignorant concealement.
Cam. I may not anſwere.

Pol. A Sicknessle caught of me, and yet I well ?
I muſt be anſwer'd. Do't thou heare Camillo,
I coniure thee, by all the parts of man,
Which Honor do's acknowledge, whereof the leaſt
Is not this ſuit of mine, that thou declare
What incidencie thou do'ſt gheſſe of harme
Is creeping toward me, how farre off, how neere,
Which way to be preuented, if to be :
If not, how beſt to beare it.
Cam. Sir, I will tell you,

Since I am charg'd in Honor, and by him
That I thinke Honorable: therefore marke my counſaile,
Which muſt be eu'n as ſwifly followed, as
I meane to vtter it; or both your ſelfe, and me,
Cry loſt, and ſe good night.
Pol. On, good Camillo.

Cam. I am appointed him to murther you.

Pol. By whom, Camillo ?

Cam. By the King.

Pol. For what ?

Cam. He thinkes, nay with all confidence he ſweares,
As he had feen't, or beene an Instrument
To vice you to't, that you haue toucht his Queene
Forbiddenly.
Pol. Oh then, my beſt blood turne

To an infected Gelly, and my Name

Be yoak'd with his, that did betray the Beſt :
Turne then my freſheſt Reputation to
A ſaurour, that may ſtrike the dulleſt Noſthrill
Where I arriue, and my approach be ſhun'd,
Nay hated too, worſe then the great'ſt Infection
That ere was heard, or read.

Cam. Sweare his thought ouer

By each particular Starre in Heauen, and
Byall their Influences; you may as well
Forbid the Sea, for to obey the Moone,
As (or by Oath) remoue, or (Couneſſa) ſhake
The Fabrick of his Folly, whose foundation
Is pyl'd upon his Faith, and will continue
The standing of his Body.

Pol. How should this grow ?

Cam. I know not: but I am fure 'tis ſafer to
Avoid what's growne, then queſtion how 'tis borne.
If therefore you dare truſt my honeſtie,

That lyes encloſed in this Trunke, which you
Shall beare along impawnd, away to Night,
Your Followers I will whisper to the Buſineſſe,
And will by twoes, and threes, at feuerall Poſternes,
Cleare them o'th' Citie : For my ſelfe, Ile put
My fortunes to your ſeruice (which are here
By this diſcouerie loſt.) Be not vnčertaine,
For by the honor of my Parents, I
Haue vtttred Truth: which if you ſeeke to proue,
I dare not ſtand by; nor ſhall you be ſafer,
Then one condemn'd by the Kings owne mouth:
Thereon his Execution ſworne.

Pol. I doe beleeue thee :

I saw his heart in's face. Giue me thy hand,
Be Pilot to me, and thy places ſhall
Still neighbour mine. My Ships are ready, and
My people did expect my hence departure
Two dayes agoc. This Icalouſe

Is for a precious Creature : as ſhee's rare,
Muſt it be great; and, as his Perſon's mightie,
Muſt it be violent: and, as he do's conceiue,
He is diſhonor'd by a man, which euer

Profefs'd to him: why his Reuenges muſt
In that be made more bitter. Feare ore-ſhades me:

Good Expedition be my friend, and comfort

The gracious Queene, part of his Theame; but nothing
Of his ill-ta'ne ſuſpition. Come Camillo,

I will reſpect thee as a Father, if

Thou bear't my life off, hence: Let vs auotid.

Cam. It is in mine authoritie to command

The Keyes of all the Poſternes: Please your Highneſſe
To take the vrgent houre. Come Sir, away. Exeunt.

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter Hermione, Mamillius, Ladies: Leontes,
Antigonus, Lords.

Her. Take the Boy to you: he ſo troubles me,
Tis paſt enduring.

Lady. Come (my gracious Lord)

Shall I be your play-fellow ?

Mam. No, Ile none of you.

Lady. Why (my ſweet Lord)?

Mam. You'le kiffe me hard, and ſpeake to me, as if
I were a Baby ſtill. I loue you better.

2. Lady. And why ſo (my Lord)?

Mam. Not for becaufe

Your Browes are blacker (yet black-browes they ſay
Become ſome Women beſt, ſo that there be not
Too much haire there, but in a Cemicircle,
Or a halſe-Moone, made with a Pen.)

2. Lady. Who taught 'this?

Mam. I learn'd it out of Womens faces: pray now,
What colour are your eye-browes?

Lady. Blew (my Lord.)

Mam. Nay, that's a mock: I haue ſeene a Ladies Noſe
That ha's beene blew, but not her eye-browes.

Lady. Harke ye,

The Queene (your Mother) rounds apace: we ſhall
Prefent our ſeruices to a fine new Prince
One of theſe dayes, and then you'l wanton with vs,
If we would haue you.

2. Lady. She is ſpread of late

Into a goodly Bulke (good time encounter her.)

Her. What wifdome flirs amongſt you? Come Sir, now
I am for you againe : 'Pray you fit by vs,
And tell's a Tale.

Mam. Merry, or ſad, ſhall't be ?

Her. As merry as you will.

Mam. A ſad Tale's beſt for Winter:
I haue one of Sprights, and Goblins.

Her. Let's haue that (good Sir.)
Come-on, fit downe, come-on, and doe your beſt,
To fright me with your Sprights: you're powreſull at it.

A a 3

Mam. There

["The Winters Tale.", "Mam. There was a man.", "Her. Nay, come fit downe: then on.", "Mam. Dwelt by a Church-yard: I will tell it softly,\nYond Crickets shall not heare it.", "Her. Come on then, and giu't me in mine care.", "Leon. Was hee met there? his Traine? Camillo with\nhim?", "Lord. Behind the tuft of Pines I met them, neuer\nSaw I men fowre fo on their way: I eyed them\nEuen to their Ships.", "Leo. How bleft am I", "In my iuft Cenfure? in my true Opinion ?", "Alack, for leſſer knowledge, how accuſ'd,", "In being fo bleſt? There may be in the Cup", "A Spider steep'd, and one may drinke; depart,", "And yet partake no venome: (for his knowledge", "Is not inſedted) but if one preſent", "Th'abhor'd Ingrediente to his eye, make knowne", "How he hath drunke, he cracks his gorge, his ſides", "With violent Heſts: I haue drunke, and ſeene the Spider.", "Camillo was his helpe in this, his Pandar:", "There is a Plot againſt my Life, my Crowne;", "All's true that is miſtraſted: that ſalſe Villaine,", "Whom I employ'd, was pre-employ'd by him:", "He ha's diſcouer'd my Deſigne, and I", "Remaine a pinch'd Thing; yea, a very Trick", "For them to play at will: how came the Poſternes", "So easily open?", "Lord. By his great authority,", "Which often hath no leſſe preuail'd, then ſo,", "On your command.", "Leo. I know't too well.", "Gue me the Boy, I am glad you did not nurſe him:", "Though he do's beare ſome ſignes of me, yet you", "Hae too much blood in him.", "Her. What is this? Sport?", "Leo. Beare the Boy hence, he ſhall not come about her,", "Away with him, and let her sport her ſelfe", "With that ſhee's big-with, for 'tis Polixenes", "Ha's made thee ſwell thus,", "Her. But it'd ſay he had not;", "And Ile be ſworne you would beleeuue my ſaying,", "How 'ere you leane to th' Nay-ward.", "Leo. You (my Lords)", "Looke on her, marke her well: be but about", "To ſay ſhe is a goodly Lady, and", "The iuſtice of your hearts will thereto adde", "'Tis pitty ſhee's not honet: Honorable;", "Prayſe her but for this her without-dore-Forme,", "(Which on my faith deferues high ſpeech) and ſtraight", "The Shrug, the Hum, or Ha, (theſe Petty-brands", "That Calumnie doth vſe; Oh, I am out,", "That Mercy do's, for Calumnie will ſeare", "Vertue it ſelfe) theſe Shrugs, theſe Hum's, and Ha's,", "When you haue ſaid ſhee's goodly, come betweene,", "Ere you can ſay ſhee's honet: But be't knowne", "(From him that ha's moſt cauſe to grieue it ſhould be)", "Shee's an Adultreſſe.", "Her. Should a Villaine ſay ſo,", "(The moſt repleniſh'd Villaine in the World)", "He were as much more Villaine: you (my Lord)", "Doe but miſtake.", "Leo. You haue miſtooke (my Lady)", "Polixenes for Leontes: O thou Thing,\n(Which Ile not call a Creature of thy place,\nLeaſt Barbariſme (making me the precedent)", "Should a like Language vſe to all degrees,", "And mannerly diſtinguſhment leaue out,", "Betwixt the Prince and Begger:) I haue ſaid", "Shee's an Adultreſſe, I haue ſaid with whom;", "More; ſhee's a Traytor, and Camillo is", "A Federarie with her, and one that knowes", "What ſhe ſhould ſhame to know her ſelfe,", "But with her moſt vild Principall: that ſhee's", "A Bed-ſwaruer, euen as bad as thofe", "That Vulgars giue bold'ſt Titles; I, and priuyl", "To this their late eſcape.", "Her. No (by my life)", "Priuyl to none of this: how will this grieue you,\nWhen you ſhall come to clearer knowledge, that\nYou thus haue publifh'd me? Gentle my Lord,\nYou ſcarce can right me throughly, then, to ſay\nYou did miſtake.", "Leo. No: if I miſtake", "In thate Foundations which I build vpon,", "The Centre is not bigge enough to beare", "A Schoole-Boyes Top. Away with her, to Prifon:", "He who ſhall ſpeake for her, is a farre off guilte,", "But that he ſpeakes.", "Her. There's ſome ill Planet raignes:", "I muſt be patient, till the Heauens looke", "With an aſpect more favorable. Good my Lords,", "I am not prone to weeping (as our ſex", "Commonly are) the want of which vaine dew", "Perchance ſhall dry your pitties: but I haue", "That honorable Grieſe lodg'd here, which burnes", "Worſe then Teares drowne: 'beſeech you all (my Lords)", "With thoughts ſo qualified, as your Charities", "Shall beſt inſtruſt you, measure me; and ſo", "The Kings will be perform'd.", "Leo. Shall I be heard?", "Her. Who is't that goes with me? beſeech your Highneſs,\nMy Women may be with me, for you ſee", "My plight requires it. Doe not weep (good Fooles)", "There is no cauſe: When you ſhall know your Mifths", "Ha's deferu'd Prifon, then abound in Teares,", "As I come out; this Action I now goe on,", "Is for my better grace. Adieu (my Lord)", "I neuer wifh'd to ſee you forſy, now", "I truſt I ſhall: my Women come, you haue leaue.", "Leo. Goe, due our bidding: hence.", "Lord. Beſeech your Highneſſe call the Queene againe.", "Antig. Be certaine what you do (Sir) leaſt your Iuſtice\nProue violence, in the which three great ones ſuffer,\nYour ſelfe, your Queene, your Sonne.", "Lord. For her (my Lord)", "I dare my life lay downe, and will do't (Sir)", "Pleafe you t'accept it, that the Queene is ſpottleſſe", "I'ch'eyes of Heauen, and to you (I meane", "In this, which you accuſe her.)", "Antig. If it proue", "Shee's otherwife, Ile keepe my Stables where", "I lodge my Wife, Ile goe in couples with her:", "Then when I feele, and ſee her, no farther truſt her:", "For euery ynch of Woman in the World,", "I, euery dram of Womans ſleth is ſalſe,", "If ſhe be.", "Leo. Hold your peaces.", "Lord. Good my Lord.", "Antig. It is for you we ſpeake, nor for our ſelues:", "You are abus'd,

The Winters Tale.

283

I would Land-damne him: be she honor-flaw'd,
I have three daughters: the eldest is eleuen;
The second, and the third, nine: and some five:
The proude true, they'll pay for't. By mine Honor
If this proue true, fourteene they shall not see
She gell'd em all: fowre generations they are co-heyres,
To bring falè generations: they are co-heyres,
And I had rather glib my selfe, then they
Should not produce faire illeſe.

Lee. Ceaf, no more :

Lee. Ceaf, no more : I feel this busineſſe with a ſence as cold
As is a dead-mans noſe: but I do feel't, and feel't,
As you feele doing thus: and feel withall
The Instruments that feele.

Antig. If it be so,

We needen graue to burie honesty,
There's not a graine of it, the face to ſweeten
Of the whole dungy-earth.

Lee. What lacke I credit ?

Lord. I had rather you did lacke then I (my Lord)
Upon this ground : and more it would content me

To haue her Honor true, then your ſuſpition
Be blam'd for't how you might.

Lee. Why what neede we

Commune with you of this? but rather follow
Our forcefull inſtitution? Our prerogative
Cals not your Counſailes, but our naturall goodneſſe
Imparts this: which, if you, or ſtupified,
Or ſeeming fo, in skill, cannot, or will not
Reliſh a truth, like vs : informe your ſelues,
We neede no more of your advice : the matter,
The lloſſe, the gaine, the ord'ring on't,
It all properly ours.

Antig. And I wifh (my Liege)

You had onely in your ſilent iudgement tride it,
Without more ouerture.

Lee. How could that be ?

Either thou art moſt ignorant by age,
Or thou wer't borne a foole : Camillo's flight

Added to their Familiarity

(Which was as groſſe, as euer touch'd coniſture,
That lack'd fight onely, nought for approbation
But onely ſeeing, all other circumſtances
Made vp to th't deed) doth pufh-on this proceeding.

Yet, for a greater confirmation

(For in an Acte of this importance, 'twere
Moft pitteous to be wilde) I hane diſpatch'd in poſt,
To ſacred Delphos, to Apollo's Temple,
Cleominæ and Dion, whom you know

Of fluff'd ſufficiency: Now, from the Oracle
They will bring all, whose ſpiritual counſaile had
Shall flop, or ſpurpure me. Haue I done well ?

Lord. Well done (my Lord.)

Lee. Though I am ſatisſide, and neede no more
Then what I know, yet ſhall the Oracle
Gueſt to th't mindes of others; ſuch as he
Whole ignorant credulitie, will not

Come vp to th'truth. So haue we thought it good
From our free perſon, ſhe should be confinde,
Leaſt that the treachery of the two, ſed hence,
Be left her to performe. Come follow vs,
We are to ſpeake in publique: for this busineſſel
Will raſe vs all.

Antig. To laughter, as I take it,
If the good truth, were knowne.

Exenunt

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Paulina, a Gentleman, Gaoler, Emilia.

Paul. The Keeper of the prifon, call to him :
Let him haue knowledge who I am. Good Lady,
No Court in Europe is too good for thee,
What doſt thou then in prifon ? Now good Sir,
You know me, do you not ?

Gao. For a worthy Lady,
And one, who much I honour.

Pau. Pray you then,
Conduct me to the Queene.

Gao. I may not (Madam)

To the contrary I haue expreſſe commandment.

Pau. Here's a-do, to locke vp honesty & honour from
Th'acceſſe of gentle viſitors. Is't lawfull pray you
To ſee her Women ? Any of them? Emilia?

Gao. So plesſe you (Madam)

To put a-part theſe your attendants, I
Shall bring Emilia forth.

Pau. I pray now call her :
With-draw your ſelues.

Gao. And Madam,
I muſt be preſent at your Conference.

Pau. Well: be't so: prethee.

Heere's ſuch a-doe, to make no ſtaine, a ſtaine,
As paffes colouring. Deare Gentlewoman,
How fares our gracious Lady ?

Emil. As well as one ſo great, and ſo forlorne
May hold together: On her frights, and greeſes
(Which neuer tender Lady hath borne greater)
She is, ſomething before her time, deliuer'd.

Pau. A boy?

Emil. A daughter, and a goodly babe,
Luſty, and like to liue : the Queene receiues
Much comfort in't: Sayes, my poore prisoner,
I am innocent as you,

Pau. I dare be ſworne:

These dangerous, vnſafe Lunes i'th'King, beſhrew them:
He muſt be told on't, and he ſhall: the office
Becomes a woman beſt. Ile take't upon me,
If I proue hony-mouth'd, let my tongue blifter.

And neuer to my red-look'd Anger bee
The Trumpet any more: pray you (Emilia)
Commend my beſt obedience to the Queene,
If she dares truſt me with her little babe,
I'le ſhew't the King, and vndertake to bee
Her Aduocate to th'lowd'ft. We do not know
How he may ſoften at the fight o'th'Childe :
The ſilence often of pure innocence
Perſwades, when ſpeaking failles.

Emil. Moſt worthy Madam,
your honor, and your goodneſſe is ſo euident,
That your free vndertaking cannot miſſe
A thriuiling illeſe: there is no Lady liuing
So meete for this great errand; plesſe your Ladiship
To viſit the next roome, Ile preſenly
Acquaint the Queene of your moſt noble offer,
Who, but to day hammered of this deſigne,
But durſt not tempt a minifter of honour
Leaſt she should be deny'd.

PAN

The Winters Tale.

284

Paul. Tell her (Emilia)

Ile vse that tongue I haue : If wit flow from't
As boldneffe from my boſome, le't not be doubted
I ſhall do good,

Emil. Now be you bleſſ for it.

Ile to the Queene : pleale you come ſomething neerer.

Gao. Madam, it ſplea the Queene to ſend the babe,
I know not what I ſhall incurre, to paffe it,
Hauing no warrant.

Pan. You neede not ſeare it (lir)

This Childe was prifoner to the wombe, and is
By Law and poffeſe of great Nature, thence
Free'd, and enfranchis'd, not a partie to

The anger of the King, nor guilty of
(If any be) the trefpaffe of the Queene.

Gao. I do beleeue it.

Paul. Do not you ſeare : vpon mine honor, I
Will ſtand betwixt you, and danger.

Exeunt

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Leoutes, Servants, Paulina, Antigonus,
and Lords.

Leo. Nor night, nor day, no reſt: It is but weakneſſe

To beare the matter thus: meere weakneſſe, if

The caufe were not in being: part o'th cauſe,
She, th'Adultreſſe: for the harlot-King

Is quite beyond mine Arme, out of the blanke

And leuell of my braine: plot-prooſe : but ſhée,

I can hooke to me: ſay that ſhe were gone,
Guen to the fire, a moity of my reſt

Might come to me againe. Whole there ?

Ser. My Lord.

Leo. How do's the boy ?

Ser. He tooke good reſt to night: 'tis hop'd
His ſickneſſe is diſcharg'd.

Leo. To ſee his Noblenſe,

Conceyuing the diſhonour of his Mother.'
He ſtraight declin'd, droop'd, tooke it deeply,
Faſten'd, and fix'd the ſhame on't in him ſelfe:
Threw-off his Spirit, his Appetite, his Sleepe,
And down-right languiſh'd. Leaue me ſolely : goe,
See how he fares: Fie, ſie, no thought of him,
The very thought of my Reuenges that way
Recoyle vpon me : in him ſelfe too mightie,
And in his parties, his Alliance; Let him be,

Vntill a time may ſerue. For preſent vengeance
Take it on her : Camillo, and Polixenes

Laugh at me: make their paſtime at my ſorrow:
They ſhould not laugh, if I could reach them, nor
Shall ſhe, within my powre.

Enter Paulina.

Lord. You muſt not enter.

Paul. Nay rather (good my Lords) be ſecond to me :
Feare you his tyrannous paſſion more (alas)
Then the Queenes life ? A gracious innocent ſoule,
More free, then he is icalous.

Antig. That's enough.

Ser. Madam; he hath not ſlept to night, commanded
None should come at him.

Pau. Not so hot (good Sir)
I come to bring him sleepe. 'Tis ſuch as you

That creepe like ſhadowes by him, and do ſigne
At each his needleſſe heauings: ſuch as you
Nouriſh the cauſe of his awaking. I
Do come with words, as medicinall, as true;
(Honeſt, as either;) to purge him of that humor,
That preſſes him from sleepe.

Leo. Who noyſe there, hoe ?

Pau. No noyſe (my Lord) but needfull conference,
About some Gofſips for your Highneſſe.

Leo. How?

Away with that audacious Lady. Antigonus,
I charge'd thee that ſhe ſhould not come about me,
I knew ſhe would.

Ant. I told her ſo (my Lord)

On your diſpleaſures perill, and on mine,
She ſhould not vifit you.

Leo. What? canſt not rule her ?

Paul. From all diſhoneſt he can : in this
(Vn)leſſe he take the course that you haue done)
Commit me, for committing honor, truſt it,
He ſhall not rule me:

Ant. La-you now, you heare,
When ſhe will take the raine, I let her run,
But ſheel' not ſtumble.

Paul. Good my Liege, I come :
And I beſeech you heare me, who proſeſſes
My ſelfe your loyall Servant, your Pylſitian,
Your moſt obedient Counſailor : yet that dares
Leſſe appeare ſo, in comforting your Euiilles,
Then ſuch as moſt ſeeme yours. I ſay, I come
From your good Queene.

Leo. Good Queene ?

Paul. Good Queene (my Lord) good Queene,
I ſay good Queene,

And would by combate, make her good ſo, were I
A man, the woſt about you.

Leo. Force her hence.

Pau. Let him that makes but trifles of his eyes
First hand me: on mine owne accord, Ile off,
But first, Ile do my errand. The good Queene
(For ſhe is good) hath brought you forth a daughter,
Heere 'tis: Commends it to your bleſſing.

Leo. Out:

A mankinde Witch ? Hence with her, out o'dore:

A moſt intelligencig bawd.

Paul. Not lo:

I am as ignorant in that, as you,
In ſo entitling me : and no leſſe honest

Then you are mad: which is enough, Ile warrant
(As this world goes) to paffe for honest:

Leo. Traitors ;

Will you not pufh her out ? Giue her the Baſtard,
Thou dotard, thou art woman-tyr'd: vnrooſted
By thy dame Partlet heere. Take vp the Baſtard,
Take't vp, I ſay: giue't to thy Croane.

Paul. For euer

Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou
Tak't vp the Princeſſe, by that forced baſenſe
Which he ha's put vpon't.

Leo. He dreads his Wife.

Paul. So I would you did : then 'twere paſt all doubt
You'l'd call your children, yours.

Aneſt of Traitors.

Ant. I am none, by this good light.

Pau. Nor I: nor any

But one that's heere: and that's himſelfe: for he,

The

The Winters Tale.

285

The sacred Honor of himsselfe, his Queenes,
His hopefull Sonnes, his Babes, betrayes to Slander,
Whose fting is Sharper then the Swords; and will not
(For as the cafe now stands, it is a Curfe
He cannot be compell'd too't) once remoue
The Root of his Opinion, which is rotten,
As euer Oake, or Stone was found.

Leo. A Callat

Of boundleſſe tongue, who late hath beat her Husband,
And now bayts me: This Brat is none of mine,
It is the Iſſue of Polixenes.
Hence with it, and together with the Dam,
Commit them to the fire.

Paul. It is yours :

And might we lay th'old Prouerb to your charge,
So like you, 'tis the worſe. Behold (my Lords)
Although the Print be little, the whole Matter
And Coppy of the Father: (Eye, Nofe, Lippe,
The trick of 's Frowne, his Fore-head, may, the Valley,
The pretty dimples of his Chin, and Cheeke; his Smiles:
The very Molds, and frame of Hand, Nayle, Finger.)
And thou good Goddeſſe Nature, which haſt made it
So like to him that got it, if thou haſt

The ordering of the Mind too, mongſt all Colours
No Yellow in't, leaſt the ſuſpect, as he do's,
Her Children, not her Husbands.

Leo. A groſſe Hagge :

And Lozell, thou art worthy to be hang'd,
That wilt not flay her Tongue.

Antig. Hang all the Husbands

That cannot doe that Feat, you'le leaue your ſelfe
Hardly one Subieſt.

Leo. Once more take her hence.

Paul. A moſt vnworthy, and vnnatural! Lord

Can do no more.

Leo. Ile ha' thee burnt.

Paul. I care not :

It is an Heretique that makes the fire,
Not ſhe which burnes in't. Ile not call you Tyrant :

But this moſt cruell vſage of your Queene
(Not able to produce more accufation
Then your owne weake-hind'd Fancy) ſomthing fauors
Of Tyrannie, and will ignoble make you,
Yea, scandalous to the World.

Leo. On your Allegiance,
Out of the Chamber with her. Were I a Tyrant,
Where were her life? ſhe durſt not call me ſo,
If the did know me one. Away with her.

Paul. I pray you do not pufh me, Ile be gone.
Looke to your Babe (my Lord) 'tis yours: Ioue ſend her
A better guiding Spirit. What needs theſe hands?
You that are thus ſo tender o're his Follyes,
Will neuer doe him good, not one of you.

So, ſo: Farewell, we are gone.

Exit.

Leo. Thou (Traytor) haſt ſet on thy Wife to this.
My Child? away with't? euen thou, that haſt
A heart ſo tender o're it, take it hence,
And ſee it infantly confum'd with fire.

Even thou, and none but thou. Take it vp fraighte:
Within this houre bring me word 'tis done,
(And by good teſtimonie) or Ile ſeize thy life,
With what thou eſſe call'ft thine: if thou reſufe,
And wilt encounter with my Wrath, ſay ſo;
The Baſtard-braynes with theſe my proper hands
Shall I daſh out, Goe, take it to the fire,
For thou ſeet'ft on thy Wife.

Antig. I did not, Sir :

These Lords, my Noble Fellowes, if they pleafe,
Can cleare me in't.

Lords. We can : my Royall Liege,

He is not guiltie of her comming hither.

Leo. You're lyers all.

Lord. Beſeech your Highneſſe, giue vs better credit:

We haue always truly ſeru'd you, and beſeech'

So to eſteeme of vs : and on our knees we begge,

(As recompence of our deare ſeruices

Paſt, and to come) that you doe change this purpofe,

Which being ſo horrible, ſo bloody, muſt

Lead on to ſome foule Iſtue. We all kneele.

Leo. I am a Feather for each Wind that blows :

Shall I liue on, to fee this Baſtard kneele,

And call me Father ? better burne it now,

Then curſe it then. But be it: let it liue.

It ſhall not neyther. You Sir, come you hither :

You that haue beene ſo tenderly officious

With Lady Margerise, your Mid-wife there,

To ſaue this Baſtards life; for 'tis a Baſtard,

So ſure as this Beard's gray. What will you aduenture,

To ſaue this Brats life?

Antig. Any thing (my Lord)

That my abilitie may vndergoe,
And Noblenefſe impoſe: at leaſt thus much;

Ile pawne the little blood which I haue left,

To ſaue the Innocent: any thing poffible.

Leo. It ſhall be poffible : Sweare by this Sword

Thou wilt performe my bidding.

Antig. I will (my Lord.)

Leo. Marke, and performe it: feeſt thou for the faile
Of any point in't, shall not onely be

Death to thy ſelfe, but to thy lewd-tongu'd Wife,
(Whom for this time we pardon) We enioyne thee,

As thou art Liege-man to vs, that thou carry

This female Baſtard hence, and that thou beare it

To ſome remote and deſart place, quite out

Of our Dominions; and that there thou leaue it

(Without more mercy) to it owne protection,

And fauour of the Climate: as by ſtrange fortune

It came to vs, I doe in Juſtice charge thee,

On thy Soules perill, and thy Bodyes torture,

That thou commend it ſtrangely to ſome place,

Where Chance may nurſe, or end it: take it vp.

Antig. I ſware to doe this: though a preſent death
Had beene more merciull. Come on (poore Babe)
Some powerfull Spirit inſtruct the Kytes and Raucns
To be thy Nurſes. Wolues and Beares, they ſay,
(Caſting their fausgeneſſe aſide) haue done
Like offices of Pitty. Sir, be p[ro]ſperous

In more then this deed do's require; and Blesſing

A[gainſt] this Crueltrie, fight on thy ſide

(Poore Thing, condemn'd to loffe.)

Exit.

Leo. No: Ile not reare

Anothers Iſſue. Enter a Servant.

Seru. Pleaſe' your Highneſſe, Poſts

From thofe you ſent to th'Oracle, are come

An houre ſince: Cleomines and Dion,

Being well arriu'd from Delphos, are both landed,

Haſting to th' Court.

Lord. So pleafe you (Sir) their ſpeed

Hath beene beyond accompt.

Leo. Twentie three dayes

They haue beene abſent: 'tis good ſpeed: fore-tells

The great Apollo suddenly will haue

The

286

The Winters Tale.

The truth of this appeare : Prepare you Lords,
Summon a Session, that we may arraigne
Our moft difloyall Lady : for as she hath
Been publicly accus'd, so shall she haue
A just and open Triall. While she liues,
My heart will be a burthen to me. Leave me,
And thinke vpon my bidding.
Exeunt.

## Adus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Cleonines and Dion.

Cleo. The Clymat's delicate, the Ayre moft sweet,
Fertile the Ille, the Temple much furpassing
The common praye it beares.

Dion. I shall report,
For moft it caught me, the Celestiall Habits,
(Methinkes I so should terme them) and the relevance
Of the graue Wearers. O, the Sacrifice,
How ceremonious, solemne, and vn-earthly
It was i'th' Offiring?

Cleo. But of all, the burſt
And the eare-deaſſing Voyce o'th' Oracle,
Kin to Jones Thunder, so surpriz'd my Sence,
That I was nothing.

Dio. If th'euent o'th'Iourney
Proue as ſuccesſefull to the Queene (O be't io)
As it hath beene to vs, rare, pleafant, ſpeedie,
The time is worth the vſe on't.

Cleo. Great Apollo
Turne all to th' beſt: theſe Proclamations,
So forcing faults vpon Hermione,
I little like.

Dio. The violent carriage of it
Will cleare, or end the Buſinesſe, when the Oracle
(Thus by Apollo's great Diuine ſeal'd vp)
Shall the Contents diſcouer: ſomething rare
Euen then will rush to knowledge. Goe: fresh Horſes,
And gracious be the ilſue.
Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Leontes, Lords, Officers: Hermione (as to her Triall) Ladies: Cleonines, Dion.

Leo. This Sessions (to our great griefe we pronounce)
Euen pushes' gainſt our heart. The partie try'd,
The Daughter of a King, our Wife, and one
Of vs too much belou'd. Let vs be clear'd
Of being tyrannous, ſince we so openly
Proceed in Iſtice, which ſhall haue due course,
Euen to the Guilt, or the Purgation :
Produce the Přſoner.

Officer. It is his Highneſſe pleasure, that the ſoone
Appeare in perſon, here in Court.
Silence.

Leo. Reade the Indictment.

Officer. Hermione, ſoone to the worthy Leontes, King
of Sicilia; then art here accuſed and arraign'd of High Trea-
ſon, in committing Adultery with Polixenes King of Bohemia,

and confpiring with Camillo to take away the Life of our So-
raigne Lord the King, thy Royall Husband: the pretence whereof
being by circumſtances partly layd open, thou (Hermione) com-
trary to the Faith and Allegiance of a true Subjeſt, didst con-
ſaile and ayde them, for their better ſafetie, to flye away by
Night.

Her. Since what I am to ſay, muſt be but that
Which contradicts my Accuſation, and
The teſtimonie on my part, no other
But what comes from my ſelfe, it ſhall ſcarce boot me
To ſay, Not guiltie: mine Integritie
Being counted Falseshood, ſhall (as I expreſſe it)
Be so recei'u'd. But thus, if Powres Diuine
Behold our humane Actions (as they doe)
I doubt not then, but Innocence ſhall make
Falsc Accuſation bluſh, and Tyrannie

Tremble at Patience. You (my Lord) beſt know
(Whom least will ſeeme to doe ſo) my paſt life
Hath beene as continent, as chaſte, as true,
As I am now vnhappy; which is more
Then Hiftorie can patterne, though deuis'd,
And play'd, to take ſpectators. For behold me,
A Fellow of the Royall Bed, which owe
A Moitie of the THRONE: a great Kings Daughters
The Mother to a hopefull Prince, here ſtanding
To prate and talke for Life, and Honor, ſore
Who pleafe to come, and heare. For Life, I prize it
As I weigh Griefe (which I would ſpare:) For Honor,
'Tis a deruatiue from me to mine,

And onely that I ſtand for. I appeal
To your owne Conſcience (Sir) before Polixenes
Came to your Court, how I was in your grace,
How merited to be ſo: Since he came,
With what encounter ſo vncurrant, I
Hae fitrayn'd t'appeare thus; if one iot beyond
The bound of Honor, or in aſt, or will
That way enclining, hardned be the hearts
Of all that heare me, and my neer'ft of Kin
Cry ſie vpon my Graue.

Leo. I ne're heard yet,
That any of theſe bolder Vices wanted
Leſſe Impudence to gaine ſay what they did,
Then to performe it firſt.

Her. That's true enough,
Though'tis a ſaying (Sir) not due to me.

Leo. You will not ſowe it.

Her. More then Miftrefſe of,
Which comes to me in name of Fault, I muſt not
At all acknowledge. For Polixenes
(With whom I am accus'd) I doe conſeſſe
I lou'd him, as in Honor he requir'd:
With ſuch a kind of Loue, as might become
A Lady like me; with a Loue, euen ſuch,
So, and no other, as your ſelfe commanded:
Which, not to haue done, I thinke had been in me
Both Difobedience, and Ingratitude.

To you, and toward your Friend, whoſe Loue had ſpok
Euen ſince it could ſpeake, from an Infant, freeſely,
That it was yours. Now for Conſpiracie,
I know not how it raſtes, though it be diſh'd
For me to try how : All I know of it,
Is, that Camillo was an honest man;
And why he left your Court, the Gods themselves ſelues
(Wotting no more then I) are ignorant.

Leo. You knew of his departure, as you know
What you haue vnderta'n'e to doe in's absence.

Her. Si.

The Winters Tale.

287

Her. Sir,

You speak a Language that I understand not:
My Life stands in the leuk of your Dreames,
Which I lie lay downe.

Leo. Your Actions are my Dreames.

You had a Baftard by Polixenes,
And but dream'd it: As you were past all Shame,
(Thofe of your Faſt are ſo) to past all truth;
Which to deny, concerns more then auailes: for as
Thy Brat hath beene caſt out; like to it ſelfe,
No Father owning it (which is indeed
More criminaſt in thee, then it) ſo thou
Shalt feele our Iuſtice; in whole caſeſt paſſage,
Looke for no leſſe then death.

Her. Sir, spare your Threats,

The Bugge which you would fight me with, I feeke:
To me can Life be no common diuide;
The crowne and comfort of my Liff (your Fauor)
I doe gine loſſ, for I doe feele it gone,
But know not how it went. My ſecond Toy,
And firſt Fruits of my body, from his preſence
I am bar'd, like one infectious. My third comfort
(Star'd moſt vnluckily) is from my breaf
(The innocent milke in it moſt innocent mouth)
Hal'd out to further. My ſelfe on every Poſt
Proclaym'd a Strumpet: With immodest hatred
The Child-bed priuiledge deny'd, which longs
To Women of all fashion. Lastly, hurried
Here, to this place, i'th' open ayre, before
I haue got strength of limit. Now (my Liege)
Tell me what bleſſings I haue here aliuie,
That I should feare to die ? Therefore proceed :
But yet heare this: miſtake me not: no Life,
(I prize it not a ſtraſk) but for mine Honor,
Which I would free: if I shall be condemn'd
Vpon ſurmizes (all proofes sleeping eſſe,
But what your Icalonſies awake) I tell you
'Tis Rigor, and not Law. Your Honors all,
I doe reſerre me to the Oracle :

Apolo be my Iudge.

Lord. This your requeſt

Is altogether iuſt: therefore bring forth
(And in Apollo's Name) his Oracle.

Her. The Emperor of Ruffia was my Father.

Oh that he were aliuie, and here beholding
His Daughters Tryall: that he did but fee
The flatneſſe of my miſterie; yet with eyes
Of Pitty, not Reuenge.

Officer. You here ſhal ſweare vpon this Sword of Iuſtice,
That you (Cleomines and Dion) haue
Been both at Delphos, and from thence haue brought
This ſeal'd-vp Oracle, by the Hand deliuer'd
Of great Apollo's Prief; and that ſince then,
You haue not dar'd to breake the holy Seale,
Nor read the Secrets in't.

Cleo. Dio. All this we ſweare.

Leo. Breske vp the Seales, and read.

Officer. Hermione is chaſt, Polixenes blameſſe, Camillo
a true Subſeft, Leontes a realous Tyrant, his innocent Babe
truly begotten, and the King ſhall line without an Heire, if that
which is loſſ, be not found.

Lords. Now bleſſed be the great Apollo.

Her. Prayſed.

Leo. Haſt thou read truth?

Offic. I (my Lord) euen ſo as it is here ſet downe.

Leo. There is no truth at all i'th' Oracle.

The Sessions ſhall proceed: this is meere falſehood.

Ser. My Lord the King: the King ?

Leo. What is the busineſſe ?

Ser. O Sir, I ſhall be hated to report it.

The Prince your Sonne, with meere conceit, and ſeare
Of the Queenes ſpeed, is gone.

Leo. How? gone?

Ser. Is dead.

Leo. Apollo's angry, and the Heauens themselves

Doe ſtike at my Iuſtice. How now there ?

Paul. This newes is mortall to the Queene: Look downe
And fee what Death is doing.

Leo. Take her hence:

Her heart is but o're-charg'd: she will reconer.

I have too much beleeu'd mine owne ſuſpicion:
'Befeech you tenderly apply to her

Some remedies for life. Apollo pardon
My great prophanenſe: gaiſt thine Oracle.

Ile reconcile me to Polixenes,

New woe my Queene, recall the good Camillo
(Whom I proclame a man of Truth, of Mercy:)

For being transported by my Icalouſes

To bloody thoughts, and to reuenge, I choſe

Camillo for the minifter, to poyſon

My friend Polixenes: which had been done,

But that the good mind of Camillo tarded

My Swift command: though I with Death, and with
Reward, did threaten and encourage him,

Not doing it, and being done: he (moſt humane,
And fill'd with Honor) to my Kingely Guett
Vnclap'd my praeſe, quit his fortunes here
(Which you knew great) and to the hazard
Of all Incertainties, himſelfe commended.

No richer then his Honor: How he glifterſ

Through my Ruſt, and how his Pietie

Do's my deeds make the blacker ?

Paul. Woe the while:

O cut my Lace, leaſt my heart (cracking it)

Breake too.

Lord. What fit is this? good Lady?

Paul. What ſtudied torments (Tyrant) haſt for me?
What Wheeles? Racks? Fires? What flaying? boyling?

In Leads, or Oyles ? What old, or newer Torture
Muſt I receiue? whoſe euery word deferues

To taſte of thy moſt worſt. Thy Tyranny

(Together working with thy Icalouſes,

Fancies too weake for Boyes, too greene and idle

For Girles of Nine) O thinke what they haue done,
And then run mad indeed: ſtarke-mad: for all

Thy by-gone fooleries were but ſpices of it.

That thou betrayed'ſt Polixenes, twas nothing,

(That did but ſhow thee, of a Foole, inconſtant,
And damnable ingratefull:) Nor was't much.

Thou would'ſt haue poyſon'd good Camillo's Honor,

To haue him kill a King: poore Trepſaſſes,

More monſtrous standing by: whereof I reckon

The caſing forth to Crowes, thy Baby-daughter,

To be or none, or little; though a Deuill

Would haue ſhed water out of fire, ere don't:

Nor is't directly layd to thee, the death

Of the young Prince, whoſe honorable thoughts
(Thoughts high for one ſo tender) cleft the heart

That could conceiue a groſſe and foolish Sire

Blemiſh'd his gracious Dam: this is not, no,

Layd to thy anſwere: but the laſt: O Lords,

When I haue ſaid, cry woe: the Queene, the Queene,

The

The Winters Tale.

The sweetft deerft creature's dead: & vengeance for't
Not drop'd downe yet.

Lord. The higher powres forbid.

Past. Ifay the's dead: Ile swear't. If word nor oath
Preuaile nor, go and see: if you can bring
Tincture, or luftre in her lip, her eye
Heate outwardly, or breath within, Ile ferue you
As I would do the Gods. But, O thou Tyrant,
Do not repent thefe things, for they are heauier
Then all thy woes can ftirre: therefore betake thee
To nothing but dispaire. A thoufand knees,
Ten thoufand yeares together, naked, fafting,
Vpon a barren Mountaine, and fill Winter
In ſtorme perpetuall, could not moue the Gods
To looke that way thou wer't.

Leo. Go on, go on:
Thou canst not speake too much, I haue deferu'd
All tongues to talke their bittreft.

Lord. Say no more;

How ere the buſineſſe goes, you haue made fault
I' th boldneſſe of your ſpeech.

Past. I am forry for't;

All faults I make, when I ſhall come to know them,
I do repent: Alas, I haue ſhew'd too much
The rafhneſſe of a woman: he is toucht
To th' Noble heart. What's gone, and what's paſt hepe
Should be paſt greefe: Do not receiue affliction
At my petition; I beſeech you, rather
Let me be puniſh'd, that haue minded you
Of what you ſhould forget. Now (good my Liege)
Sir, Royall Sir, forgiue a foolish woman :
The loue I bore your Queene (Lo, foole againe)
Ile ſpeake of her no more, nor of your Children :
Ile not remember you of my owne Lord,
(Who is loſſ too:) take your patience to you,
And Ile say nothing.

Leo. Thou didſt ſpeake but well,
When moſt the truth: which i receyue much better,
Then to be pittied of thee. Prethee bring me
To the dead bodies of my Queene, and Sonne,
One graue ſhall be for both: Vpon them ſhall
The cauſes of their death appeare (vnto
Our ſhame perpetuall) once a day, Ile viſit
The Chappell where they lye, and teares ſhed there
Shall be my recreation. So long as Nature
Will beare vp with this exerciſe, ſo long
I dayly vow to vſe it. Come, and leade me
To theſe ſorrowes.

Exeunt

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Antigonus, a Marriner, Babe, Sheepbeard, and Clowne.

Ant. Thou art perſect then, our ſhip hath toucht upon
The Defarts of Bohemia.

Mar. I (my Lord) and feare
We haue Landed in ill time: the skies looke grimly,
And threaten preſent bluſters. In my ſcience
The heauens with that we haue in hand, are angry,
And frowne upon's.

Ant. Their ſacred wil's be done: go get a-boord,
Looke to thy barke, Ile not be long before

I call upon thee.:

Mar. Make your beſt hafte, and go not
Too-farre i' th Land: 'tis like to be lowd weather,
Besides this place is famous for the Creatures
Of prey, that keepe vpon't.

Antigonus. Go thou away,
Ile follow instantly.

Mar. I am glad at heart
To be forrid e o' th' buſineſſe.

Ant. Come, poore babe;
I haue heard (but not beleeu'd) the Spirits o' th' dead
May walke againe: iſ ſuch thing be, thy Mother
Appeard to me laſt ni ght: for ne're was dreame
So like a waking. To me comes a creature,
Sometimes her head on one ſide, ſome another,
I neuer ſaw a veſſell of like ſorrow
So fill'd, and ſo becomming: in pure white Robes
Like very ſanctity ſhe did approach
My Cabine where I lay: thrice bow'd before me,
And (gaſping to begin ſome ſpeech) her eyes
Became two ſpouts; the ſurie ſpent, anon
Did this breake from her. Good Antigonus,
Since Fate (againſt thy better diſpoſition)
Hath made thy perſon for the Thower-out.
Of my poore babe, according to thine oath,
Places remote enough are in Bohemia,
There weepe, and leaue it crying: and for the babe
Is counted loſſ for euer, Perdita

I prethee call't: For this vngentle buſineſſe
Put on thee, by my Lord, thou ne're ſhalt see
Thy Wife Panlina more: and ſo, with ſhriekes
She melted into Ayre. Aſſrighted much,
I did in time collect my ſelfe, and thought
This was ſo, and no ſlumber: Dreames, are toyes,
Yet for this once, yea ſuperſtitiously,
I will be ſquar'd by this. I do beleeue
Hermione bath ſuffer'd death, and that

Apollo would (this being indeede the iffue
Of King Polixenes) it: ſhould heere be laide
(Either for life, or death) vpon the earth
Of it's right Father. Bloſſome, ſpeed thee well,
There lye, and there thy chaſtacter: there theſe,
Which may if Fortune pleafe, both breed thee (pretty)
And ſtill reſt thine. The ſtorme begins, poore wretch,
That for thy mothers fault, art thus expos'd
To loffe, and what may follow. Weepe I cannot,
But my heart bleedes: and moſt accuſt am I
To be by oath enioyn'd to this. Farewell,
The day frownes more and more: thou'rt like to haue
A lullabie too rough: I neuer ſaw
The heauens ſo dim, by day. A ſauage clamor?
Well may I get a-boord: This is the Chace,
I am gone for euer.

Exit purſued by a Breast.
I am gone for euer.

Exit purſued by a Breast.

Shep. I would there were no age betweene ten
and three and twenty, or that youth would ſleep out the reſt
for there is nothing (in the betweene) but getting wen-
ches with childe, wronging the Auncienity, (feeling,
fighting, hearke you now: would any but theſe boylde-
braines of nineſtene, and two and twenty hunt this we-
ther ? They haue ſcar'd away two of my beſt Sheepe,
which I feare the Wolſe will sooner finde then the Ma-
ſter: if any where I haue them, 'tis by the ſeaſide, brou-
zing of Iuy. Good-lucke (and't be thy will) what haue
we heere? Mercy on's, a Barne? A very pretty barne; A
boy, or a Childe I wonder? (A pretty one, a verie prett-
one) ſure some Scape; Though I am not bookiſh, yet ca

The Winters Tale.

can reade Waiting-Gentlewoman in the scape: this has
beene fome flaire-worke, fome Trunke-worke, fome be-
hinde-doore worke: they were warmer that got this,
then the poore Thing is heere. Ile take it vp for pity, yet
Ile tarry till my fonne come: he hallow'd but euen now.
Whoa-ho-hoa.

Enter Clowne.

Clo. Hillox, loa.

Shep. What? art so neere? If thou'lt see a thing to
talk on, when thou art dead and rotten, come hither:
what ayl'ft thou, man?

Clo. I haue seene two such lights, by Sea & by Land:
but I am not to fay it is a Sea, for it is now the skie,
but twixt the Firmament and it, you cannot thrust a bodkins
point.

Shep. Why boy, how is it ?

Clo. I would you did but fee how it chafes, how it ra-
ges, how it takes vp the shore, but that's not to the point:
Oh, the moft pitteous cry of the poore foules, sometimes
to fee 'em, and not to fee 'em: Now the Shippe boaring
the Moone with her maine Maſt, and anon I swallowed
with yelf and froth, as you'd thrust a Corke into a hogf-
head. And then for the Land-feruice, to fee how the
Beare tore out his shoulder-bone, how he cride to mee
for helpe, and faid his name was Antigonuſ, a Nobleman:
But to make an end of the Ship, to fee how the Sea flap-
dragon'd it: but firſt, how the poore foules roared, and
the ſea mock'd them: and how the poore Gentleman roa-
red, and the Beare mock'd him, both roaring lowder
then the ſea, or weather.

Shep. Name of mercy, when was this boy ?

Clo. Now, now: I haue not wink'd since I saw theſe
ſights: the men are not yet cold vnder water, nor the
Beare halfe din'd on the Gentleman: he's at it now.

Shep. Would I had bin by, to haue help'd the olde
man.

Clo. I would you had beene by the ſhip ſide, to haue
help d her; there your charity would haue lack'd footing.

Shep. Heauy matters, heauy matters: but looketh thee
here boy. Now bleſſe thy ſelfe: thou me'ſt with things
dying, I with things newe borne. Here's a fight for thee:
Looketh thee, a bearing-cloath for a Squires childe: looke
thee heere, take vp, take vp (Boy:) open't: so, let's fee, it
was told me I should be rich by the Fairies. This is ſome
Changeling: open't: what's within, boy?

Clo. You're a mad olde man: If the finnes of your
youth are forgiuen you, you're well to live. Golde, all
Gold.

Shep. This is Faiery Gold boy, and 'twill proue so: vp
with it, keepe it cloſe: home, home, the next way. We
are luckie (boy) and to bee so still requires nothing but
ſecreie. Let my ſheepe go: Come (good boy) the next
way home.

Clo. Go you the next way with your Findings, Ile go
fee if the Beare bee gone from the Gentleman, and how
much he hath eaten: they are neuer curſt but when they
are hungry: if there be any of him left, Ile bury it.

Shep. That's a good deed: if thou mayeſt discerne by
that which is left of him, what he is, fetch me to th'light
of him.

Clowne. 'Marry will I: and you shall helpe to put him
the ground.

Shep. Tis a lucky day, boy, and weel' do good deeds
on't.

Exeunt

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Time, the Chorms.

Time. I that please some, try all: both ioy and terror
Of good, and bad: that makes, and vnfolds error,
Now take vpon me (in the name of Time)
To vſe my wings: Impute it not a crime
To me, or my twiſt paſſage, that I flide
Ore ſixteene yeeres, and leaue the growth vntride
Of that wide gap, ſince it is in my powre
To orethrow Law, and in one ſelfe-borne howre
To plant, and ore-whelme Cuſtome. Let me paſſe
The fame I am, ere ancient'ſt Order was,
Or what is now receiu'd. I witneſſe to
The times that brought them in, ſo ſhall I do
To th'ſrefſheſt things now reigning, and make ſtale
The gliffering of this preſent, as my Tale
Now ſeemes to it: your patience this allowing,
I turne my glaſſe, and giue my Scene ſuch growing
As you had ſlept betweene: Leontes leauing
Th' effects of his fond ialleouſes, ſo grecuing
That he ſhuts vp himſelfe. Imagine me
(Gentle Speſtators) that I now may be
In faire Bohemia, and remember well,
I mentioned a ſonne o' th' Kings, which Florizell
I now name to you: and with ſpeed so pace
To ſpeak of Perdita, now growne in grace
Equall with wond'ring. What of her inues,
I lift not propheſe: but let Times newes
Be knowne when 'tis brought forth. A shepherds daugh-
And what to her adheres, which followes after, (ter
Is th'argument of Time: of this allow,
If euer you haue ſpent time worſe, ere now:
If neuer, yet that Time himſelfe doth ſay,
He wishes earneſtly, you neuer may.
Exit.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Polixenes, and Camillo.

Pol. I pray thee (good Camillo) be no more importu-
nate: 'tis a ſickneſſe denying thee any thing: a death to
grant this.

Cam. It is ſiſteene yeeres since I saw my Countrey:
though I haue (for the moſt part) bin ayred abroad, I de-
fire to lay my bones there. Besides, the penitent King
(my Maſter) hath ſent for me, to whose feeling forrowes
I might be ſome allay, or I oreweene to thinke so) which
is another ſpurte to my departure.

Pol. As thou louſt me (Camillo) wipe not out the reſt
of thy ſeruices, by leauing me now: the neede I haue of
thee, thine owne goodneſſe hath made: better not to
haue had thee, then thus to want thee, thou hauing made
me Buſineſſes, (which none (without thee) can ſuffici-
ently manage) muſt either ſlay to execute them thy ſelfe,
or take away with thee the very ſeruices thou haſt done:
which if I haue not enough considered (as too much I
cannot) to bee more thankefull to thee, ſhall be my ſlu-
die, and my profite therein, the heaping friendnippes.
Of that fatall Countrey Sicillia, prethee ſpeak no more,
whose very naming punnishes me with the remembrance

Bb

The Winters Tale.

290

of that penitent (as thou calst him) and reconciled King
my brother, whose leſſe of his moſt precious Queene &
Children, are euen now to be a-fresh lamented. Say to
me, when faw'ft thou the Prince Florizell my ſon? Kings
are no leſſe vnhappy, their ſlue, not being gracious, then
they are in looſing them, when they haue approued their
Vertues.

Cam. Sir, it is three dayes since I saw the Prince: what
his happier affayres may be, are to me vnknowne: but I
haue (mifsingly) noted, he is of late much retyred from
Court, and is leſſe frequent to his Princely exercisings then
formerly he hath appeared.

Pol. I haue confirnd so much (Camillo) and with
fome care, ſo farre, that I haue eyes vnder my ſeruice,
which looke vpon his remouedneſſe: from whom I haue
this Intelligence, that he is ſeldome from the house of a
moſt homely ſhepheard: a man (they ſay) that from very
nothing, and beyond the imagination of his neighbors,
is growne into an vnſpezakable eſtate.

Cam. I haue heard (ſir) of ſuch a man, who hath a
daughter of moſt rare note: the report of her is extended
more, then can be thought to begin from ſuch a cottage

Pol. That's likewise part of my Intelligence : but (I
ſeaue) the Angle that pluckes our ſonne thither. Thou
ſhalt accompany vs to the place, where we will (not ap-
pearing what we are) haue ſome quetion with the ſhep-
heard; from whose simplicity, I thinke it not vnaſeable
to get the caufe of my ſonnes reſort thether. 'Prethe be my
prefent partner in this buſines, and lay aſide the thoughts
of Sicilia.

Cam. I willingly obey your command.

Pol. My best Camillo, we must diſguſe our ſelues. Exit

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Autolicus singing.

When Daffadils begin to peere,
With heigh the Doxy over the dale,
Why then comes in the sweet o'the yeere,
For the red blood raigns in ſ winters pale.

The white ſeeete bleaching on the hedge,
With hey the sweet birds, O how they ſing:
Doth fet my pugging tooth an edge,
For a quart of Ale is a diſh for a King.

The Larke, that tirra Lyra chaunts,
With heigh, the Thrush and the Iay:
Are Summer ſongs for me and my Aunts
while we lye tumbling in the hay.

I haue ſeru'd Prince Florizell, and in my time wore three
pile, but now I am out of ſeruice.

But ſhall I go moune for that (my deere)
the pale Moone ſhines by night :
And when I wander here, and there
I then do moſt go right.

If Tinkers may haue leue to line,
and beare the Sow-skin Bowget,

Then my account I well may giue,
and in the Stockes auouch-it.

My Trafficke is fheetes : when the Kite builds, looke to
leſſer Linnen. My Father nam'd me Autolicus, who be-

ing (as I am) lytter'd vnder Mercurie, was likewife
ſnapper-vp of vnconsidered trifles : With Dye and deede,
I purchas'd this Caparifon, and my Reuennew is the
Chaste. Gallowes, and Knocke, are too powerful,
the Highway. Beating and hanging are terrors to me.
For the life to come, I ſleepe out the thought of it,
prize, a prize.

Enter Clowne.

Clo. Let me ſee, euery Leauen-weather toddes, euery
tod yeeldes pound and odde ſhilling: ſifene hundred
thorne, what comes the wooll too?

Aut. If the ſpringde hold, the Cocke's mine.

Clo. I cannot do't without Compters. Let me fee,
what am I to buy for our Sheepe-ſ hearing-Feaſt? Three
pound of Sugar, ſue pound of Currence, Rice: What
will this ſifter of mine do with Rice? But my father ha
made her Miftris of the Feaſt, and ſhe layes it on. She
hath made-me four and twenty Nofe-gayes for the ſla
rers (three-man ſong-men, all, and very good ones) bu
they are moſt of them Meanes and Bafes; but one Pla-
tan amongſt them, and he ſings Pſalmes to home-pipe.
I muſt haue Saffron to colour the Warden Pies, Mac-
Dates, none: that's out of my note: Nutmegges, ſeuer
a Race or two of Ginger, but that I may begge: Four
pound of Prewyns, and as many of Reyions o'th Sun.

Aut. Oh, that euer I was borne.

Clo. I' th name of me.

Aut. Oh helpe me, helpe mee: plucke but off their
ragges: and then, death, death.

Clo. Alacke poore ſoule, thou haſt need of more rag
to lay on thee, rather then haue theſe off.

Aut. Oh fir, the loathſomneſſe of them offend me,
more then the ſtripes I haue receiued, which are might
ones and millions.

Clo. Alas poore man, a million of beating may come
to a great matter.

Aut. I am rob'd fir, and beaten: my money, and ap-
parrell tane from me, and theſe dereſtable things put vp
on me.

Clo. What, by a horſe-man, or a foot-man?

Aut. A footman (ſweet fir) a footman.

Clo. Indeed, he should be a footman, by the garment
he has left with thee: If this bee a horſemans Coone,
with ſeene very hot ſeruice. Lend me thy hand,lle helpe
thee. Come, lend me thy hand.

Aut. Oh good fir, tenderly, oh.

Clo. Alas poore ſoule.

Aut. Oh good fir, ſoftly, good fir: I ſeaue (fir) my
shoulder-blade is out.

Clo. How now? Canſt stand?

Aut. ſoftly, deere fir: good fir, ſoftly: you ha
te me a charitable office.

Clo. Doeſt lacke any mony ? I haue a little mony for
thee.

Aut. No, good ſweaſt fir: no, I beſeech you fir: I ha
a Kinsman not paſt three quarters of a mile hence, wa
whome I was going: I ſhall there haue money, or an
thing I want: Offer me no money I pray you, that kiſſ
my heart.

Clo. What manner of Fellow was hee that robb'd
you?

Aut. A fellow (fir) that I haue knowne to goe about
with Troll-my-dames: I knew him once a ſeruant of the
Prince: I cannot tell good fir, for which of his Ver-
tues it was, but hee was certainly Whipt out of the
Court.

The Winters Tale.

291

Clo. His vices you would say: there's no vertue whipt
out of the Court; they cherish it to make it flay there;
and yet it will no more but abide.

Aut. Vices I would say (Sir.) I know this man well,
he hath bene since an Ape-bearer, then a Proceſſe ſeruert
(a Bayliffe) then hee compaſt a Motion of the Prodigall
ſonne, and married a Tinkers wife, within a Mile where
my Land and Liuing lyes; and (hauing flownne ouer ma-
ny knauith proſeffions) he setled onely in Rogue: some
call him *Autolicus*.

Clo. Out vpon him: Prig, for my life Prig: he haunts
Wakes, Faires, and Beare-baitings.

Aut. Very true fir: he fir hee: that's the Rogue that
put me into this apparrell.

Clo. Nor a more cowardly Rogue in all Bohemia; If
you had but look'd bigge, and Ipit at him, hee'd haue
runne.

Aut. I muſt confesse to you (fir) I am no fighter: I am
ſalſe of heart that way, & that he knew I warrant him.

Clo. How do you now?

Aut. Sweet fir, much better then I was: I can ſtand,
and walke: I will euen take my leaue of you, & pace ſoft-
ly towards my Kinfmans.

Clo. Small I bring thee on the way?

Aut. No, good fac'd fir, no ſweer fir.

Clo. Then farthewell, I muſt go buy Spices for our
ſheepe-Shearing. Exit.

Aut. Proſper you ſweet fir. Your purſe is not hot e-
nough to purchase your Spice: Ile be with you at your
ſheepe-Shearing too: If I make not this Cheat bring out
another, and the ſheerers proue ſheepe, let me be vnrold,
and my name put in the booke of Vertue.

Song. Log-on, Log-on, the foot-path way,
And merrily bent the Style-a:
A merry heart goes all the day,
Your sad tyres in a Mile-a.

Exit.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Florizell, Perdita, Shepherd, Clowne, Polixenes, Caimillo, Mopfa, Dorcas, Servants, Autolicus.

Fla. These your vnſuall weeds, to each part of you
Do's giue a life: no Shepherdſe, but Flora
Peering in Aprils front. This your ſheepe-Shearing,
Is as a meeting of the petty Gods,
And you the Queene on't.

Perd. Sir: my gracious Lord,
To chide at your extreames, it not becomes me:
(Oh pardon, that I name them:) your high ſelfe
The gracious marke o'th'Land, you haue obſcur'd
With a Swaines wearing; and me (poore lowly Maide)
Moft Goddeſſe-like prank'd vp: But that our Feaſts
In euery Mefſe, haue folly; and the Feeders
Diſeift with a Cuſtome, I should blush
To fee you ſo attyr'd: I w fore I thinke,
To ſhew my ſelfe a glaſſe.

Fla. I bleſſe the time:

When my good Falcon, made her flight a-croſſe
Thy Fathers ground.

Perd. Now Jouve affoord you cauſe:
To me the difference forges dread (your Greatneſſe

Hath not beene vs'd to ſeare:) euen now I tremble
To thinke your Father, by ſome accident
Should paſſe this way, as you did: Oh the Fates,
How would he looke, to fee his worke, ſo noble,
Vildely bound vp? What would he ſay? Or how
Should I (in theſe my borrowed Flaunts) behold
The ſierneſſe of his prefence?

Fla. Apprehend

Nothing but iollity: the Goddes themſelues
(Humbling their Deities to loue) haue taken
The ſhapes of Beaſts vpon them. Iupiter,
Became a Bull, and bellow'd: the greene Neptune
A Ram, and bleated: and the Fire-roa'd-God
Golden Apollo, a poore humble Swaine.

As I fee me now. Their transformations,
Were neuer for a peecce of beauty, rarer,
Nor in a way ſo chaſte: ſince my deſires
Run not before mine honor: nor my Liffs
Burne hotter then my Faith.

Perd. O but Sir,

Your refolution cannot hold, when'tis
Oppos'd (as it muſt be) by th' powre of the King:
One of theſe two muſt be neceſſities,
Which then will ſpeake, that you muſt change this pur-
Or I my life. (pole-)

Fla. Then deerſt Perdita,
With theſe ſor'd thoughts, I prethee darken not
The Mirth o'th'Feaſt: Or Ile be thine (my Faire)
Or not my Fathers. For I cannot be
Mine owne, nor any thing to any, if
I be not thine. To this I am moſt conſtant,
Though deſtiny ſay no. Be merry (Gentle)
Strangle luch thoughts as theſe, with any thing.
That you behold the while. Your gueſts are comming:
Lift vp your countenance, as it were the day
Of celebration of that nuptiall, which
We two haue ſworne ſhall come.

Perd. O Lady Fortune,
Stand you auspicious.

Fla. See, your Gueſts approach,
Addreſſe your ſelfe to entertaine them ſprightly,
And let's be red with mirth.

Shep. Fy (daughter) when my old wife ſu'd: vpon
This day, ſhe was both Pantler, Butler, Cooke,
Both Dame and Servant: Welcom'd all: ſeru'd all,
Would ſing her ſong, and dance her turne: now heere
At vpper end o'th' Table; now, i'th middle:
On his shoulder, and his: her face o'fire
With labour, and the thing ſhe tooke to quench it
She would to each one ſip. You are retyred,
As if you were a ſeaſted one: and not
The Hofteffe of the meeting: Pray you bid
These vnknowne friends to's welcome, for it is
A way to make vs better Friends, more knowne.
Come, quench your bluſhes, and preſent your ſelfe
That which you are, Miftris o'th'Feaſt. Come on,
And bid vs welcome to your ſheepe-Shearing,
As your good flocke ſhall proſper.

Perd. Sir, welcome:
It is my Fathers work, I should take on mee
The Hofteffeship o'th'day: you're welcome fir.
Gie me theſe Flowres there (Dorcas.) Reuerend Sirs,
For you, there's Rofemary, and Rue, theſe keepe
Seeming, and ſauour all the Winter long:
Grace, and Remembrance be to you both,
And welcome to our Shearing.

Bb 2

Pol.

The Winters Tale.

292

Pol. Shepherdess,
(A faire one are you:) well you fit our ages
With flowres of Winter.

Perd. Sir, the yeare growing ancient,
Not yet on summers death, nor on the birth
Of trembling winter, the fayreft flowres o' th' season
Are our Carnations, and areak'd Gilly-vors,
(Which some call Natures bастards) of that kind
Our rufticke Gardens barren, and I care not
To get flips of them.

Pol. Wherefore (gentle Maiden)
Do you neglect them.

Perd. For I haue heard it said,
There is an Art, which in their pidenefle shares
With great creating-Nature.

Pol. Say there be :
Yet Nature is made better by no meane,
But Nature makes that Nature: so ouer that Art,
(Which you fay addes to Nature) is an Art
That Nature makes : you fee (sweet Maid) we marry
A gentler Siem, to the wildeft Stocke,
And make conceyue a barke of bafer kinde
By bud of Nobler race. This is an Art
Which do's mend Nature : change it rather, but
The Art it felfe, is Nature.

Perd. So it is.

Pol. Then make you Garden rich in Gilly'vors,
And do not call them baftards.

Perd. Ile not put
The Dible in earth, to fet one flip of them :
No more then were I painted, I would with
This youth should fay' twer well : and onely therefore
Defire to breed by me. Here's flowres for you :
Hot Lauender, Mints, Sauory, Mariorum,
The Mary-gold, that goes to bed with Sun,
And with him rifes, weeping: These are flowres
Of middle summer, and I thinke they are giuen
To men of middle age. Y'are very welcome.

Cam. I should leaue grafing, were I of your flocke,
And onely lie by gazing.

Perd. Our alas:
You'd be so leane, that blasts of January (Friend,
Would blow you through and through. Now (my faireft
I would I had some Flowres o'th Spring, that might
Become your time of day : and yours, and yours,
That weare vpon your Virgin-branches yet
Your Maiden heads growing : O Proserpina,
For the Flowres now, that (frighted) thou let it fall
From Dyffes Waggon: Daffadils,
That come before the Swallow dares, and take
The windes of March with beauty : Violets (dim,
But sweeter then the lids of Tuno's eyes,
Or Cytherea's breath) pale Prime-rofes,
That dye vnmarried, ere they can behold
Bright Phœbus in his strength (a Maladie
Mott incident to Maids:) bold Oxlips, and
The Crowne Imperiall: Lillies of all kinds,
(The Flowre-de-Luce being one.) O, these I lacke,
To make you Garlands of) and my sweet friend,
To flew him o're, and ore.

Flo. What like a Coarſe?

Perd. No, like a banke, for Loue to lye, and play on:
Not like a Coarſe: or if not to be buried,
But quicke, and in mine armes. Come, take your flours,
Methinkes I play as I haue scene them do
In Whitfon-Paſtorals: Sure this Robe of mine

Do's change my dispoſition;

Fla. What you do,
Still betters what is done. When you ſpeake (Sweet)
I'd haue you do it euer: When you ſing,
I'd haue you buy, and fell so: so give Almes,
Pray so: and for the ord'ring your Affayres,
To ſing them too. When you do dance, I wish you
A wane o'th Sea, that you might euer do
Nothing but that: moue full, full so:
And owne no other Function. Each your doing,
(So ſingular, in each particular.)

Crownes what you are doing, in the preſent deeds,
That all your Actes, are Queenes.

Perd. O Doricles,
Your praiſes are too large: but that your youth
And the true blood which peepes fairely through,
Do plainly giue you out an viftain'd Shepherd
With wifedome, I might feare (my Doricles)
You woo'd me the falſe way.

Fla. I thinke you haue
As little skill to feare, as I haue purpose
To put you to't. But come, our dance I pray,
Your hand (my Perdita:) so Turtles paire
That neuer meane to part.

Perd. Ile ſware for 'em.
Po. This is the prettift Low-borne Laffe, that euer
Ran on the greene-ford: Nothing the do's, or leemes
But smackes of ſomething greater then her ſelfe,
Too Noble for this place.

Cam. He tels her ſomething
That makes her blood looke on't: Good ſooth she is
The Queene of Curds and Creame.

Clo. Come on: ſtrike vp.
Dorcas. Mopſa muſt be your Miftris: marry Gathick
to mend her kiling with.

Mop. Now in good time.
Clo. Not a word, a word, we ſtand vpon our manners,
Come, ſtrike vp.

Heere a Daunce of Shepheards and
Shephearddeſſes.

Pol. Pray good Shepheard, what faire Swaine is this,
Which dances with your daughter?

Shep. They call him Doricles, and boafts himſelfe
To haue a worthy Feeding; but I haue it
Vpon his owne report, and I beleeue it:
He looks like ſooth: he fayes he loues my daughter,
I thinke so too; for neuer gaz'd the Moone
Vpon the water, as hee'l ſtand and reade
As 'twere my daughters eyes: and to be plaine,
I thinke there is not halſe a kiffle to choose
Who loues another beſt.

Pol. She dances ſeatly.
Shep: So ſhe do's any thing, though I report it
That should be ſilent: If yong Doricles
Do light vpon her, ſhe ſhall bring her that
Which he not dreames of.

Enter Servant.
Ser. O Maſter: if you did but heare the Pedler at the
doore, you would neuer dance againe after a Tabor and
Pipe: no, the Bag-pipe could not moue you: hee ſinger
feuerall Tunes, after then you'l tell money: hee will
them as he had eaten ballads, and all mens eares grow
his Tunes.

Clo. He could neuer come better: hee ſhall come in:
I loue a ballad but euen too well, if it be dolefull
merrily ſet downe: or a very pleafant thing indeede,
and ſung lamentably.

The Winters Tale.

293

Sire. He hath songs for man, or woman, of all fizes:
No Milliner can so fit his customers with Gloues: he has
the prettie Loue-songs for Maids, so without bawdrie
(which isrange;) with such delicate burthens of Dil-
do's and Fadings: Iump-her, and thump-her; and where
home stretch-mouth'd Rafcall, would (as it were) meane
home stretch-mouth'd Rafcall, would (as it were) meane
make the maid to anfwere, *Whoop, doe me no harme good*
make the maid to anfwere, *Whoop, doe me no harme good*
*man:* put's him off, flights him, with *Whoop, doe mee no*
*harme good man.*

*Pel.* This is a braue fellow.

*Clo.* Beleece mee, thou talkeft of an admirable con-
feited fellow, has he any vnbraided Wares?

*Ser.* Hee hath Ribbons of all the colours i'th Raine-
*how; Points, more then all the Lawyers in Bohemia, can*
*learnedly handle, though they come to him by th'groſſe*
*flackles, Caddyleſes, Cambrickes, Lawnes: why he ſings*
*in ouer, as they were Gods, or Goddeſſes: you would*
*thinke a Smocke were a ſhee-Angell, he so chauntes to*
*the ſcuffe-hand, and the worke about the ſquare on't.*

*Clo.* Pre thee bring him in, and let him approach fin-
ging.

*Pard.* Forewarne him, that he vſe no ſcurrilous words
in'tunes.

*Clow.* You haue of theſe Pedlers, that haue more in
them, then youl't thinke (Sifter.)

*Pard.* I, good brother, or go about to thinke.

*Enter Austolieus ſinging.*
*Lawne as white as driven Snow,*
*Cypresse blacke as ere was Crow,*
*Gloues as sweete as Damaske Roses,*
*Maskes for faces, and for noſes :*
*Bugle-bracelet, Necke-lace Amber,*
*Perſume for a Ladies Chamber :*
*Golden Quaſſes, and Stomachers*
*For my Lads, to giue their deers :*
*Pins, and poaking-flickes of Fleele.*
*What Maids lacke from head to heele :*
*Come buy of me, come: come buy, come buy,*
*Buy Lads, or eſſ your Lasses cry : Come buy.*

*Clo.* If I were not in loue with *Mop*<u>ſa</u>, thou shouldſt
take no money of me, but being enthrall'd as I am, it will
also be the bondage of certaine Ribbons and Gloues.

*Mop.* I was promis'd them againſt the Feaſt, but they
come not too late now.

*Dor.* He hath promis'd you more rhen that,' or there
be years.

*Mop.* He hath paid you all he promis'd you; 'May be
he has paid you more, which will ſhame you to giue him
again.

*Clo.* Is there no manners left among maids? Will they
weare their plackets, where they should bear their faces ?
Is there not milking-time ? When you are going to bed?
Or kill-hole? To whistle of theſe ſecrets, but you muſt
be title-tatling before all our gueſts? 'Tis well they are
whifpring: clamor your tongues, and not a word more.

*Mop.* I haue done; Come you ptomis'd me a tawdry-
lace, and a paire of sweet Gloues.

*Clo.* Haue I not told thee how I was cozen'd by the
way, and loſt all my money.

*Au.* And indeed Sir, there are Cozeners abroad, ther-
ſo'be it behooues men to be wary.

*Clo.* Feare not thou man, thou ſhalt loſe nothing here
*Au.* I hope ſo fir, for I haue about me many parcels
of charge.

*Clo.* What haſt heere? Ballads?

*Mop.* Pray now buy ſome: I loue a ballet in print, a
life, for then we are ſure they are true.

*Aut.* Here's one, to a very dolefull tune, how a Vſu-
rers wife was brought to bed of twenty money baggs at
a burthen, and how ſhe long'd to eate Adders heads, and
Toads carbonado'd.

*Mop.* Is it true, thinke you ?

*Aut.* Very true, and but a moneth old.

*Der.* Bleſſe me from marrying a Vſurer.

*Aut.* Here's the Midwiues name to't: one Mift. Tale-
*Porter, and ſue or fix honest Wiues, that were prefent.*
*Why should I carry lyes abroad ?*

*Mop.* 'Pray you now buy it.

*Clo.* Come-on, lay it by: and let's firſt ſee moe Bal-
lads: Wee'l buy the other things anon.

*Aut.* Here's another ballad of a Fifh, that appeared
upon the coaſt, on wensday the ſourefcore of April, fortie
thouſand fadom aboue water, & ſung this ballad againſt
the hard hearſes of maids: it was thought ſhe was a Wo-
man, and was turn'd into a cold fifh, for ſhe wold not ex-
change fleſh with one that lou'd her: The Ballad is very
pittrifull, and as true.

*Dor.* Is it true too, thinke you.

*Autol.* Five Iuſtices hands at it, and witneſſes more
then my paſſe will hold.

*Clo.* Lay it by too; another.

*Aut.* This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one.

*Mop.* Let's haue ſome merry ones.

*Aut.* Why this is a paſſing merry one, and goes to the
tune of two maids wooing a man: there's ſcarſe a Maide
weſtward but ſhe ſings it: 'tis in requeſt, I can tell you.

*Mop.* We can both ſing it: if thou'lt beare a part, thou
ſhalt heare, 'tis in three parts.

*Dor.* We had the tune on't, a month agoe.

*Aut.* I can beare my part, you muſt know 'tis my oc-
cupation: Haue at it with you;

*Song.* *Get you hence, for I muſt got*

*Aut.* *Where it fits not you to know.*

*Dor.* *Whether?*

*Mop.* *O whether?*

*Dor.* *Whether?*

*Mop.* *It becomes thy oath full well,**
*Thou to me thy ſecret stell.*

*Dor.* *Me too: Let me go to thether :*

*Mop.* *Or thou goſt to th' Grange, or Mill,*

*Dor.* *If to either thou doſt ill,*

*Aut.* *Neither.*

*Dor.* *What neither ?*

*Aut.* *Neither :*

*Dor.* *Thou haſt ſworne my Lome to be,*

*Mop.* *Thou haſt ſworne it more to mee.*

*Then whether goſſ? Say whether ?*

*Clo.* Wee'l haue this ſong out anon by our ſelues: My
Father, and the Gentare in ſad talke, & wee'll not trouble
them: Come bring away thy pack after me, Wenches Ile
buy for you both: Pedler let's haue the firſt choice; follow
me girles.

*Aut:* And you ſhall pay well for 'em,

*Song.* *Willyou buy any Tape, or Lace for your Crpe?*

*My dainty Ducke, my deere-a-*

*Any Silke, any Thred, any Toyes for your head*

*Of the news't, and fins't, fins't weare-a.*

*Come to the Pedler, Money's a medler,*
*That doth vitter all mens ware-a.*

*Exit.*

*Servant.* Mayſter, there is three Carters, three Shep-
herds, three Neat-herds, three Swine-herds y haue made
them

B b 3

The Winters Tale.

294

themfelues all men of haire, they cal themfelues saltiers,
and they haue a Dance, which the Wenches fay is a gal-
ly-maufrey of Gambols, becaufe they are not int : but
they themfelues are o'th'minde (if it bee not too rough
for fome, that know little but bowling) it will pleafe
plenteously.

Shep. Away: Wee'l none on't; heere has beene too
much homely foolery already. I know (Sir) wee wea-
rie you.

Pol. You wearie thofe that refrefh vs : pray let's see
thefe foure-threes of Heardfmen.

Ser. One three of them, by their owne report (Sir.)
hath danc'd before the King : and not the worft of the
three, but iumpes twelue foote and a halfe by th'fquire.

Shep. Leaue your prating, since thefe good men are
pleaf'd, let them come in : but quickly now.

Ser. Why, they flay at doore Sir.

Heere a Dance of twelue Satyres.

Pol. O Father, you'll know more of that heereafter:
Is it not too farre gone? 'Tis time to part them,
He's fimple, and tells much. How now (faire shepheard)
Your heart is full of fomething, that do's take
Your minde from feafling. Sooth, when I was yong,
And handed loue, as you do; I was wont

To load my Shee with knackes : I would haue ranfackt
The Pedlers filken Treasury, and haue pow'r'd it

To her acceptance : you haue let him go,
And nothing marted with him. If your Laffe
Interpretation should abufe, and call this

Your lacke of loue, or bounty, you were ftraited
For a reply at leatf, if you make a care
Of happie holding her.

Flor. Old Sir, I know

She prizes not fuch trifles as thefe are :
The gifts she lookes from me, are packt and lockt
Vp in my heart, which I haue giuen already,
But not deliuer'd. O heare me breath my life
Before this ancient Sir, whom (it should feeme)
Hath sometime lou'd: I take thy hand, this hand,
As soft as Doues-downe, and as white as it,
Or Ethyopians tooth, or the fan'd flow, that's bolted
By th'Northerne blafts, twice ore.

Pol. What followes this?

How prettily th' yong Swaine feemes to waſh
The hand, was faire before ? I haue put you out,

But to your proteftation : Let me heare.

What you professe.

Flor. Do, and be witneſſe too't.

Pol. And this my neighbour too ?

Flor. And he, and more

Then he, and men : the earth, the heauens, and all;
That were I crown'd the moſt Imperiall Monarch
The reeſ of moſt worthy : were I the fayreft youth
That euer made eye ſwerve, had force and knowledge
More then was euer mans, I would not prize them
Without her Loue ; for her, employ them all,
Commend them, and condemnem them to her ſeruice,
Or to their owne perdition.

Pol. Fairely offer'd.

Cam. This ſhewes a found affection.

Shep. But my daughter,

Say you the like to him.

Per. I cannot ſpeake

So well, (nothing ſo well) no, nor meane better

By th'patterne of mine owne thoughts, I cut out
The puritie of his.

Shep. Take hands, a bargaine;

And friends vnknowne, you ſhall beare witneſſe to't:
I giue my daughter to him, and will make
Her Portion, equall his.

Flor. O, that muſt bee

I' th Vertue of your daughter : One being dead,
I ſhall haue more then you can dreame of yet,
Enough then for your wonder : but come-on,
Contraduct vs for theſe Witneſſes.

Shep. Come, your hand :
And daughter, yours.

Pol. Soft Swaine a-while, beſeech you,
Hae you a Father ?

Flor. I haue : but what of him ?

Pol. Knowes he of this ?

Flor. He neither do's, nor ſhall.

Pol. Me-thinkes a Father,

Is at the Nuptiall of his ſonne, a gueſt

That beſt becomes the Table : Pray you once more

Is not your Father growne incapable

Of reaſonable affayres ? Is he not stupid

With Age, and altring Rheumes? Can he ſpeake ? heare?

Know man, from man ? Dispute his owne eſtate ?

Lies he not bed-rid ? And againe, do's nothing

But what he did, being childſt?

Flor. No good Sir :

He has his health, and ampler ſtrength indeede

Then moſt haue of his age.

Pol. By my white beard,

You offer him (if this be ſo) a wrong

Something vnſkillall : Reaſon my ſonne

Should choofe himſelfe a wife, but as good reaſon

The Father (all whoſe ioy is nothing else

But faire poſterity : ſhould hold ſome counſaille

In ſuch a buſineſſe.

Flor. I yeeld all this ;

But for ſome other reaſons (my graue Sir)

Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint

My Father of this buſineſſe.

Pol. Let him know't.

Flor. He ſhall not.

Pol. Prethee let him.

Flor. No, he muſt not.

Shep. Let him (my ſonne) he ſhall not need to green
At knowing of thy choice.

Flor. Come, come, he muſt not :

Marke our Contrad.

Pol. Marke your diuorce (yong fir)

Whom ſonne I dare not call : Thou art too bafe

To be acknowledge. Thou a Scepters heire,

That thus aſfects a ſheepe-hooke ? Thou, old Traitor,
I am forry, that by hanging thee, I can
but ſhorten thy life one weeke. And thou, fresh peec
Of excellent Witchcraft, whom of force muſt know
The royaſl Foole thou coap'ft with.

Shep. Oh my heart.

Pol. Ile haue thy beauty ſcratcht with briers & made
More homely then thy flate. For thee (fond boy)
If I may euer know thou doſt but ſigh,
That thou no more ſhalt neuer ſee this knacke (as neuer
I meane thou ſhalt) weel barre thee from ſucceſſion,
Not hold thee of our blood, no not our Kin,
Farre then Deucation off : (marke thou my words)
Follow vs to the Court. Thou Churle, for this time
(Though full of our displeasure) yet we free thee
From the dead blow of it. And you Enchantment,

Wor.

The Winters Tale.

295

Worthy enough a Heardsfman: yea him too,
That makes himselfe (but for our Honor therein)
Vnworthy thee. If euer henceforth, thou
Thefe rurall Latches, to his entrance open,
Or hope his body more, with thy embraces,
I will denife a death, as cruell for thee
As thou art tender to't.

Exit.

Ferd. Euen heere vndone:

I was not much a-fear'd: for once, or twice
I was about to speake, and tell him plainely,
The selfe fame Sun, that shines vpon his Court,
Hides not his visage from our Cottage, but
Lookes on alike. Wilt please you (Sir) be gone?
I told you what would come of this: Befeech you
Of your owne state take care: This dreame of mine
Being now awake, Ile Queene it no inch farther,
But milke my Ewes, and weepce.

Cam. Why how now Father,
Speake ere thou dyeft.

Sbep. I cannot speake, nor thinke,
Nor dare to know, that which I know: O Sir,
You haue vndone a man of foure'score three,
That thought to fill his graue in quiet: yea,
To dye vpon the bed my father dy'd,
To lye cloſe by his honeft bones; but now
Some Hangman muſt put on my ſhrowd, and lay me
Where no Prieſt ſhonels-in duſt. Oh curſed wretch,
That knew ſt this was the Prince, and would ſt duenture
To mingle faith with him. Vndone, vndone:
If I might dye within this houre, I haue liu'd
To die when I defire.

Exit.

Flor. Why looke you ſo vpon me?
I am but ſorry, not affear'd: delaid,
But nothing alred: What I was, I am:
More training on, for plucking backe; not following
My leaſh vnwillingly.

Cam. Gracious my Lord,
You know my Fathers temper: at this time
He will allow no ſpeech: (which I do ghette
You do not purpose to him:) and as hardly
Will he endure your fight, as yet I feare;
Then till the fury of his Highneſſe ſettle
Come not before him.

Flor. I not purpose it:

I thinke Camillo.

Cam. Euen he, my Lord.

Per. How often haue I told you 'twould be thus?
How often faid my dignity would laſt
But till twer knowne?

Flor. It cannot faile, but by
The violation of my faith, and then
Let Nature crush the fides o'th' earth together,
And mar the ſeeds within. Lift vp thy looks:
From my ſucceſſion wipe me (Father) I
Am heyre to my affection.

Cam. Be aduis'd.

Flor. I am: and by my fancie, if my Reaſon
Will thereto be obedient: I haue reaſon:
If not, my ſences better pleas'd with madneſſe,
Do bid it welcome.

Cam. This is desperate (ſir.)

Flor. So call it: but it do's fulfill my vow:
I needs muſt thinke it honeſtly. Camillo,
Not for Bohemia, nor the pompe that may
Be thereat gleaned: for all the Sun ſees, or
The close earth wombe, or the profound ſeas, hides

In vnknowne ſadomes, will I breake my oath
To this my faire beſou'd: Therefore, I pray you,
As you haue euer bin my Fathers honour'd friend,
When he ſhall miſſe me, as (in faith I meane not
To ſee him any more) caſt your good counſailes
Vpon his paſſion: Let my ſelſe, and Fortune
Tug for the time to come. This you may know,
And ſo deliuer, I am put to Sea
With her, who heere I cannot hold on ſhore:
And moſt opportune to her neede, I haue
A Veffell rides ſaſt by, but not prepar'd
For this deſigne. What courſe I meane to hold
Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor
Concerne me the reporting.

Cam. O my Lord,
I would your ſpirit were eſtler for aduice,
Or ſtronger for your neede.

Flor. Hearke Perdita,
Ile heare you by and by.

Cam. Hee's irremoueable,
Reſolu'd for flight: Now were I happy if
His going, I could frame to ſerue my turne,
Saue him from danger, do him loue and honor,
Purchaſe the fight againe of deere Sicillia,
And that vnhappy King, my Maſter, whom
I ſo much thirt to fee.

Flor. Now good Camillo,
I am ſo ſraught with curious buſineſſe, that
I leaue our ceremony.

Cam. Sir, I thinke
You haue heard of my poore ſeruices, i'th' loue
That I haue borne your Father?

Flor. Very nobly
Haue you deſeru'd: It is my Fathers Muſicke
To ſpeake your deeds: not little of his care
To haue them recompenc'd, as thought on.

Cam. Well (my Lord)
If you may pleafe to thinke I loue the King,
And through him, what's neereft to him, which is
Your gracious ſelſe; embrace but my direction,
If your more ponderous and fetled project
May ſuffer alteration. On mine honor,
Ile point you where you ſhall haue ſuch receiuing
As ſhall become your Highneſſe, where you may
Enioy your Miſtris; from the whom, I fee
There's no diſuſion to be made, but by
(As heauens foreſend) your ruine: Marry her,
And with my beſt endeouurs, in your abſence,
Your diſcontenting Father, ſtrike to qualifie
And bring him vp to liking.

Flor. How Camillo
May this (almoſt a miracle) be done?
That I may call thee something more then man,
And after that truſt to thee.

Cam. Haue you thought on
A place whereunto you'l go?

Flor. Not any yet:
But as th'vnthought-on accident is guiltie
To what we wildly do, so we proſeſſe
Our ſelues to be the ſlaues of chance, and flyes
Of euery winde that blowes.

Cam. Then lift to me:
This followes, if you will not change your purpose
But undergo this flight; make for Sicillia,
And there preſent your ſelſe, and your fayre Princesſſe,
(For so I fee the muſt be)'fore Leonſes.

Shee

The Winters Tale.

296

She shall be habited, as it becomes
The partner of your Bed. Me thinkes I see
Leontes opening his free Armes, and weeping
His Welcomes forth: asks thee there Sonne forgiuenesse,
As'were I'th' Fathers person: kiffes the hands
Of your fresh Princeſſe; ore and ore diuides him,
'Twixt his vnkindneſſe, and his Kindneſſe: th'one
He chides to Hell, and bids the other grow
Faster then Thought, or Time.

Flor. Worthy Camillo,
What colour for my Viſitation, ſhall I
Hold vp before him?

Cam. Sent by the King your Father
To greet him, and to giue him comforts. Sir,
The manner of your bearing towards him, with
What you (as from your Father) ſhall deliver,
Things knowne betwixt vs three, Ile write you downe,
The which ſhall point you forth at every ſitting
What you muſt ſay: that he ſhall not perceiue,
But that you haue your Fathers Boſome there,
And ſpeake his very Heart.

Flor. I am bound to you:
There is ſome ſappe in this.

Cam. A Courſe more promiſing,
Then a wild dedication of your ſelues
To vnpath'd Waters, vndream'd Shores; moſt certaine,
To Miſeries enough: no hope to helpe you,
But as you ſhake off one, to take another.
Nothing ſo certaine, as your Anchors, who
Doe their beſt office, if they can but ſtay you,
Where you'le be loth to be: beſides you know,
Proſperitie's the very bond of Loue,
Whose fresh complexion, and whose heart together,
Affiſtion alters.

Percd. One of theſe is true:
I thinke Affiſtion may ſubdue the Cheeke,
But not take-in the Mind.

Cam. Yea? ſay you ſo?
There ſhall not, at your Fathers House, theſe ſeuen yeeres
Be borne another ſuch.

Flor. My good Camillo,
She's as forward, of her Breeding, as
She is i'th' reare 'our Birth.

Cam. I cannot ſay, 'tis pitty
She lacks Inſtructions, for the ſeemes a Miſtreſſe
To moſt that teach.

Percd. Your pardon Sir, for this,
Ile bluſh you Thanks.
Flor. My prettie Perdita,
But O, the Thornes we ſand vpon: (Camillo)
Preſueru of my Father, now of me,
The Medicine of our House: how ſhall we doe?
We are not furniſh'd like Bohemia's Sonne,
Nor ſhall appeare in Sicilia.

Cam. My Lord,
Feare none of this: I thinke you know my fortunes
Doe all lye there: it ſhall be ſo my care,
To haue you royally appointed, as if
The Scene you play, were mine. For inſtance Sir,
That you may know you ſhall not want: one word.

Enter Autolicus.

Aut. Ha, ha, what a Foole Honeſtie is? and Truſt(his ſworne brother) a very ſimple Gentleman. I haue ſold all my Tromperie: not a counterfeit Stone, not a Ribbon, Glaſſe, Pomander, Browch, Table-booke, Ballad, Knife, Tape, Gloue, Shooe-tye, Bracelet, Horne-Ring, to keepe

my Pack from ſaſting: they throng who should buy ſiſt
as if my Trinkets had beene hallowed, and brought it a ben-
diction to the buyer: by which means, I ſaw whole
Purſe was beſt in Picture; and what I ſaw, to my good
vſe, I remembred. My Clowne (who wants but ſome-
thing to be a reaſonable man) grew ſo in loue with the
Wenches Song, that hee would not ſtirre his Petty-tot,
till he had both Tune and Words, which ſo drew the reſt
of the Heard to me, that all their other ſences flucke in
Eares: you might haue pinch'd a Placket, it was ſence-
ſſe; 'twas nothing to gueld a Cod-peece of a Purſe: I
would haue ſill'd Keyes of that hung in Chaynes: no
hearing, no feeling, but my Sirs Song, and admiring the
Nothing of it. So that in this time of Lethargie, I picked
and cut moſt of their Feſtiauall Purſes: And had not the
old-man come in with a Whoo-bub againſt his Daugh-
ter, and the Kings Sonne, and ſcar'd my Chowghes from
the Chaffe, I had not left a Purſe alive in the whole
Army.

Cam. Nay, but my Letters by this means being there
So ſoone as you arriue, ſhall clare that doubt,

Flor. And thofe that you'le procure from King Leontias

Cam. Shall ſatſiſe your Father.

Percd. Happy be you:
All that you ſpeake, ſhewes faire.

Cam. Who haue we here?
Wee'le make an Inſtrument of this: omit
Nothing may giue vs aide,

Aut. If they haue ouer-heard me now: why hanging,

Cam. How now (good Fellow)
Why ſhak'ſt thou ſo? Feare not (man)

Here's no harme intended to thee.

Aut. I am a poore Fellow, Sir.

Cam. Why, be ſo ſill: here's no body will ſteale that
from thee: yet for the out-lide of thy pouertie, we muſt
make an exchange; therefore diſ-cafe thee inſantly (thou
muſt thinke there's a neceſſitie in't;) and change Garment
with this Gentleman: Though the penny-worth (on his
lide) be the worſt, yet hold thee, there's ſome boot.

Aut. I am a poore Fellow, Sir: (I know ye well enough.)

Cam. Nay, prethee diſpatch: the Gentleman is halfe
ſled already.

Aut. Are you in earneſt, Sir? (I finell the trick on't.)

Flor. Diſpatch, I prethee.

Aut. Indeed I haue had Earneſt, but I cannot with
conſciencie take it.

Cam. Vnbuckle, vnbuckle.

Fortunate Miſtreſſe (let my prophecie
Come home to ye:) you muſt retire your ſelfe
Into ſome Couert; take your ſweet-hearts Hat
And pluck that ore your Browes, muffle your ſace,
Diſ-mantle you, and (as you can) diſliken
The truth of your owne ſeeming, that you may
(For I doe ſeare eyes ouer) to Ship-boord
Get vndefsry'd.

Percd. I fee the Play ſo lyes,
That I muſt beare a part.

Cam. No remedie:
Haue you done there?

Flor. Should I now meet my Father,
He would not call me Sonne.

Cam. Nay, you ſhall haue no Hat:
Come Lady, come: Farewell (my friend.)

Aut. Adieu, Sir.

Flor. O Perdita: what haue we twaine forgot?

'Pray

The Winters Tale.

297

Pray you a word.

Pray you a word.
Cam. What I doe next, shall be to tell the King
Of this escape, and whither they are bound;

Of this escape, and whither they are bound;
Wherein, my hope is, I shall be premature,

Wherein, my hope is, I shall be premature,
To force him after : in whole company
I shall re-view Sicilia ; for whose fight,

I shall re-view Sicilia; for whose fight,
I have a Womans Longing.

I have a Woman's Longing.
Flor. Fortune speed vs :

I have a Woman's Longing.
Flor. Fortune speed vs:
Thus we set on (Cavillo) to th' Sea-side.

Thus we set on (Cavillo) to th' Sea-side.
Cam. The Swifter speed, the better.

Thus we set on (Cavillo) to th' Sea-side.
Cam. The Swifter speed, the better.
Aut. I understand the bufineſſe, I heare it: to haue an
open eare, a quick eye, and a nimble hand, is neceſſary for
a Cut-purſe; a good Note is requisite alſo, to ſmell out
workes for th'other Sences. I fee this is the time that the
wurſt man doth thriue. What an exchange had this been,
without boot ? What a boot is here, with this exchange?

Aut. I understand the bufineſſe, I heare it: to haue an
open eare, a quick eye, and a nimble hand, is neceſſary for
a Cut-purſe; a good Note is requisite alſo, to ſmell out
workes for th'other Sences. I fee this is the time that the
wurſt man doth thriue. What an exchange had this been,
without boot ? What a boot is here, with this exchange?
Sure the Gods do this yeere conniue at vs, and we may
sure any thing extempore. The Prince himselfe is about
doe any thing extempore. The Prince himselfe is about
doe any thing extempore. The Prince himselfe is about
doe any thing extempore. The Prince himselfe is about
his Clog at his heelees:) if I thought it were a piece of ho-
neſſe to acquaint the King withall, I would not do't: I
hold it the more knauerie to conceale it; and therein am
I conſtant to my Proſeption.

Enter Clowne and Shepheard.

Enter Clowne and Shepheard.
Afide, aſide, here is more matter for a hot braine : Euery
Lanes end, euery Shop, Church, Seſſion, Hanging, yeelds
a careful man worke.

Clowne. See, see: what a man you are now? there is no
other way, but to tell the King he's a Changeling, and
none of your fleſh and blood.

Shep. Nay, but heare me.

Claw, Nay; but heare me.

Shep. Goe too then.

Claw. She being none of your fleſh and blood, your
fleſh and blood ha's not offended the King, and ſo your
fleſh and blood is not to be puniſh'd by him. Shew ſoth
things you found about her (thoſe ſecret things, all but
what the ha's with her:) This being done, let the Law goe
whiſſle: I warrant you.

Shep. I will tell the King all, euery word, yea, and his
Sonnes pranck too; who, I may ſay, is no honeſt man,
neither to his Father, nor to me, to goe about to make me
the Kings Brother in Law.

Claw. Indeed Brother in Law was the fartheſt off you
could haue beene to him, and then your Blood had beene
the dearer, by I know how much an ounce.

Aut. Very wifely (Puppies.)

Shep. Well: let vs to the King: there is that in this
Farthell, will make him ſcratch his Beard.

Aut. I know not what impediment this Complaint
may be to the flight of my Maſter.

Clo. 'Pay heartily he be at' Pallace.

Aut. Though I am not naturally honeſt, I am ſo ſome-
times by chance: Let me pocket vp my Pedlers excre-
ment. How now (Ruſtiques) whither are you bound?

Shep. To th' Pallace (and it like your Worſhip.)

Aut. Your Affaires there ? what ? with whom ? the
Condition of that Farthell ? the place of your dwelling?
your names ? your ages ? of what hauing ? breeding, and
any thing that is fitting to be knowne, diſcover ?

Clo. We are but plaine fellowes, Sir.

Aut. A Lye; you are rough, and hayrie: Let me haue
no lying; it becomes none but Tradef-men, and they of-
ten giue vs (Souldiers) the Lye, but wee pay them for it
with flamped Coyne, not flabbing Steele, therefore they
doe not giue vs the Lye.

Clo. Your Worſhip had like to haue giuen vs one, if
you had not taken your ſelfe with the manner.

Shep. Are you a Courtier, and't like you Sir?

Aut. Whether it like me, or no, I am a Courtier. See ſeet
thou not the ayre of the Court, in theſe enſoldings? Hath
not my gate in it, the meaſure of the Court? Receiues not
thy Note Court-Odour from me? Reflect I not on thy
Baſenſeſſe, Court-Contempt? Think't thou, for that I
inſinate, at toaze from thee thy Buſineſſe, I am there-
fore no Courtier? I am Courtier Cap-a-pe; and one that
will eyther puſh-on, or pluck-back, thy Buſineſſe there:
whereupon I command thee to open thy Aſſaire.

Shep. My Buſineſſe, Sir, is to the King.

Aut. What Aduocate haſt thou to him?

Shep. I know not (and't like you).

Clo. Aduocate's the Court-word for a Pheazant: ſay
you haue none.

Shep. None, Sir: I haue no Pheazant Cock, nor Hen.

Aut. How bleſſed are we, that are not simple men?
Yet Nature might haue made me as theſe are,
Therefore I will not diſdaine.

Clo. This cannot be but a great Courtier.

Shep. His Garments are rich, but he weares them not
hand ſomely.

Clo. He ſeemes to be the more Noble, in being fanta-
ficall: A great man, Ile warrant: I know by the picking
on's Teeth.

Aut. The Farthell there ? What's i'th' Farthell?
Wherefore that Box?

Shep. Sir, there Iyes ſuch Secrets in this Farthell and
Box, which none muſt know but the King, and which hee
ſhall know within this houre, if I may come to th' ſpeech
of him.

Aut. Age, thou haſt loft thy labour.

Shep. Why Sir?

Aut. The King is not at the Pallace, he is gone aboar
a new Ship, to purge Melancholy, and ayre himſelfe: for
if thou bee't capable of things ſerious, thou muſt know
the King is full of grieſe.

Shep. So'tis ſaid (Sir:) about his Sonne, that ſhould
haue married a Shepheards Daughters.

Aut. If that Shepheard be not in hand-ſaſt, let him
flye; the Curſes he ſhall haue, the Tortures he ſhall feele,
will breake the back of Man, the heart of Monſter.

Clo. Thinke you so, Sir?

Aut. Not hee alone ſhall ſuffer what Wit can make
heauie, and Vengeance bitter; but thoſe that are Iermaine
to him (though remou'd ſſtive times) ſhall all come vnder
the Hang-man: which, though it be great pitty, yet it is
neceſſarie. An old Sheepe-whiſtliing Rogue, a Ram-ten-
der, to offer to haue his Daughters come into grace? Some
fay hee ſhall be ſton'd : but that death is too ſoft for him
(fay 1:) Draw our Throre into a Sheep-Coat ? all deaths
are too ſew, the ſharpeſt too eafe.

Clo. Ha's the old-man ere a Sonne Sir (doe you heare)
and't like you, Sir?

Aut. Hee ha's a Sonne: who ſhall be flayd aliue, then
'noynted ouer with Honey, ſet on the head of a Wafpes
Neſt, then stand till he be three quarters and a dram dead;
then recouer'd againe with Aquavite, or ſome other hot
Infusion: then, raw as he is (and in the hoteſt day Progno-
ſtication proclaymes) ſhall he be ſet againſt a Brick-wall,
(the Sunne looking with a South-ward eye upon him;
where hee is to behold him, with Flyes blown to death.)
But what talke we of theſe Traitorly Rascals, whose mi-
ſeries are to be ſmil'd at, their offences being ſo capitall?

Tel

298

The Winters Tale.

Tell me (for you seeme to be honest plaine men) what you
haue to the King: being something gently confider'd, Ile
bring you where he is aboard, tender your persons to his
prefence, whisper him in your behalfes ; and if it be in
man, beſides the King, to effect your Suites, here is man
ſhall do it.

Clow. He feemes to be of great authorities: cloſe with him, giue him Gold; and though Authoritie be a ſubſtible Beare, yet hee is oft led by the Nofe with Gold: chew the inſide of your Purſe to the outſide of his hand, and no more adoe. Remember ſon'd, and flay'd alliue.

Shep. And't pleaseth you (Sir) to vndertake the Buſineſſe for vs, here is that Gold I haue: Ile make it as much more, and leaue this young man in pawne, till I bring it you.

Aut. After I haue done what I promised?

Shep. I Sir.

Aut. Well, giue me the Moitie: Are you a partie in this Buſineſſe?

Clow. In ſome fort, Sir: but though my caſe be a pitſtiful one, I hope I ſhall not be flayd out of it.

Aut. Oh, that's the caſe of the Shepheards Sonne: hang him, hee le be made an example.

Clow. Comfort, good comfort: We muſt to the King, and shew our ſtrange ſights: he muſt know't is none of your Daughter, nor my Sifter: wee are gone eſſe. Sir, I will giue you as much as this old man do's, when the Buſineſſe is performed, and remaine (as he ſayes) your pawne till it be brought you.

Aut. I will truſt you. Walke before toward the Seaſide, goe on the right hand, I will but looke vpon the Hedge, and follow you.

Clow. We are bleſſ'd, in this man: as I may ſay, euen bleſſ'd.

Shep. Let's before, as he bids vs: he was prouided to doe vs good.

Aut. If I had a mind to be honest, I ſee Fortune would not suffer mee: ſhee drops Booties in my mouth. I am courted now with a double occafion: (Gold, and a means to doe the Prince my Maſter good; which, who knowes how that may turne backe to my aduancement?) I will bring theſe two Moales, theſe blind-ones, aboard him, if he thinke it fit to ſhoare them againe, and that the Complaint they haue to the King, concernes him nothing, let him call me Rogue, for being ſo farre officious, for I am proſte againſt that Title, and what ſhame eſſe belongs to't: To him will I preſent them, there may be matter in it. Exeunt.

## Adus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Leontes, Cleonines, Dion, Paulina, Servants: Florizel, Perdita.

Cleo. Sir, you haue done enough, and haue perform'd
A Saint-like Sorrow: No fault could you make,
Which you haue not redeem'd; indeed pay'd downe
More penitence, then done treſpas: At the laſt
Doe, as the Heauens haue done; forget your euill,
With them, forgiue your ſelfe.

Leo. Whileſt I remember
Her, and her Vertues, I cannot forget

My blemiſhes in them, and so till thinke of
The wrong I did my ſelfe: which was to much,
That Heire-leſſe it hath made my Kingdome, and
Dewtroy'd the Sweeſt Companion, that ere man
Bred his hopes out of, true.

Paul. Too true (my Lord):

If one by one, you wedded all the World,
Or from the All that are, tooke ſomething good,
To make a perfect Woman; ſhe you kill'd,
Would be vnparallel'd.

Leo. I thinke so. Kill'd?

She I kill'd? I did so: but thou atriſk it me.

Sorely, to ſay I did: it is as better

Vpon thy Tongue, as in my Thought. Now, good now
Say so but ſeldome.

Cleo. Not at all, good Lady:

You might haue (spoken a thousand things, that would
Hae done the time more benefit, and graſ'd
Your kindneſſe better.

Paul. You are one of those

Would haue him wed againe.

Dio. If you would not so,

You pity not the State, nor the Remembrance
Of his moſt Soueraigntie Name: Conſider little,
What Dangers, by his Highneſſe faile of ſlue,
May drop vpon his Kingdome, and deuoure
Incertaine lookers on. What were more hely,
Then to reioyce the former Queene is well?

What holyer, then for Royalties repayre,

For preſent comfort, and for future good,

To bleſſe the Bed of Maiſtie againe
With a sweet Fellow to't?

Paul. There is none worthy,

(Respecting her that's gone:) beſides the Gods

Will haue fullfill'd their ſecret purpofes:

For ha's not the Divine Apollo ſaid?

Is't not the tenor of his Oracle,

That King Leontes shall not haue an Heire,
Till his loft Child be found? Which, that it ſhall,
Is all as monſtrous to our humane reafon,

As my Antigonus to breake his Graue,

And come againe to me: who, on my life,
Did perſan with the Inſant. 'Tis your councell,

My Lord should to the Heauens be contrary,

Oppose againſt their wills. Care not for ſlue,

The Crowne will find an Heire. Great Alexander

Left his to th' Worthiſt: so his Successor

Was like to be the beſt.

Leo. Good Paulina,

Who haſt the memorie of Hermione

I know in honor: O, that euer I

Had ſquar'd me to thy councell: then, euen now,

I might haue look'd vpon my Queenes full eyes,

Hae taken Treasure from her Lippes.

Paul. And leſe them

More rich, for what they yeelded.

Leo. Thou break'st it truth:

No more ſuch Wiues, therefore no Wife: one worse,

And better vs'd, would make her Sainted Spirit

Againe poſſeſſe her Corps, and on this Stage

(Where we Offenders now appeare) Soule-vest,

And begin, why to me?

Paul. Had the ſuch power,

She had iuſt ſuch cauſe.

Leo. She had, and would incenſe me
To murther her I married.

Paul. 1

The Winters Tale.

299

Paul. I should so:

Were I the Ghost that walk'd, I'd bid you marke
Her eye, and tell me for what dull part in't
You chose her: then I'd shrieke, that even your ears
Should rife to hear me, and the words that follow'd,
Should be, Remember mine.

Lee. Starres, Starres,

And all eyes else, dead coales: feare thou no Wife
She haue no Wife, Paulina.

Paula. Will you feare

Paul. Will you feare

Neuer to marry, but by my free leaue?

Lee. Neuer (Paulina) so be blefs'd my Spirit.

Paul. Then good my Lords, beare witnesse to his Oath,

Cleo. You tempt him ouer-much.

Paul. Valeſſe another,

As like Hermione, as is her Picture,

Affront his eye.

Cleo. Good Madame, I haue done.

Paul. Yet if my Lord will marry : if you will, Sir;

No remedy but you will: Giue me the Office

To chufe you a Queene: ſhe shall not be ſo young

As was your former, but ſhe shall be ſuch

As(walk'd your first Queenes Ghoſt) it ſhould take ioy
To fee her in your armes.

Lee. My true Paulina,

We shall not marry, till thou bidſt vs.

Paul. That

Shall be when your first Queene's againe in breath:
Neuer till then.

Enter a Servant.

Ser. One that giues out himſelfe Prince Florizell,
Sonne of Polixenes, with his Princeſſe (the
The faireſt I haue yet beheld) deſires acſſe
To your high prefence.

Leo. What with him ? he comes not

Like to his Fathers Greatneſſe : his approach
(So out of circumſtance, and ſuddaine) tells vs,
Tis not a Viſitation fram'd, but forc'd
By neefd, and accident. What Trayne?

Ser. But few,

And thofe but meane.

Lee. His Princeſſe (ſay you) with him?

Ser. I: the moſt peereleſſe peeece of Earth, I thinke,
That ere the Sunne ſhone bright on.

Paul. Oh Hermione,

As every prefent Time doth boaſt it ſelfe

Aboue a better, gone; ſo muſt thy Graue

Gue way to what's ſeene now. Sir, you your ſelfe

Haue faid, and writ ſo; but your writing now

Is colder then that Theame: ſhe had not beene,

Nor was not to be equall'd, thus your Verſe

Flow'd with her Beautie once; tis ſhrewdly ebb'd,
To ſay you haue ſeene a better.

Ser. Pardon, Madame :

The one, I haue almost forgot (your pardon;)

The other, when ſhe ha's obtay'n your Eye,

Will haue your Tongue too. This is a Creaſure,

Would ſhe begin a ſeet, might quench the zeale

Of all Professors ſelfe; make Profelytes

Of who ſhe but bid follow.

Paul. How ? not women?

Ser. Women will loue her, that ſhe is a Woman
More worth then any Man: Men, that ſhe is
The rareſt of all Women.

Lee. Goe Cleominers,

Your ſelſe (aſſiſted with your honor'd Friends)

Bring them to our embracement. Still 'tis strange,
He thus should reale vpon vs.

Exit.

Paul. Had out Prince

(Jewell of Children) ſeene this houre, he had pay'd
Well with this Lord; there was not full a moneth
Betweene their births.

Leo. 'Prethee no more; ceaſe : thou knowſt it

He dyes to me againe, when talk'd-of: ſure

When I ſhall fee this Gentleman, thy ſpeeches

Will bring me to consider that, which may

Vnſurniſh me of Reaſon. They are come.

Enter Florizell, Perdita, Cleominers, and others.

Your Mother was moſt true to Wedlocke, Prince,

For ſhe did print your Royall Father off,

Conceiuing you. Were I but twentie one,

Your Father's Image is ſo hit in you,

(His very ayre) that I should call you Brother,

As I did him, and ſpeake of ſomething wildly

By vs perform'd before. Moſt dearely welcome,

And your faire Princeſſe (Goddeſſe) oh: alas,

I loft a couple, that twixt Heauen and Earth

Might thus haue ſtood, begett­ing wonder, as

You (gracious Couple) doe : and then I loft

(All mine owne Folly) the Societie,

Amitie too of your braue Father, whom

(Though bearing Miferie) I deſire my life

Once more to looke on him.

Flor. By his command

Haue I here touch'd Sicilia, and from him

Gie you all greetings, that a King (at friend)

Can lend his Brother: and but Inſiruie

(Which waits vpon worne times) that ſeene ſeiz'd
His wif'd Abilitie, he had himſelſe.

The Lands and Waters, 'twixt your Thrope and his,

Meaſur'd, to looke vpon you; whom he loues

(He bad me ſay ſo) more then all the Scepters,

And thofe that beare them, liuing.

Leo. Oh my Brother,

(Good Gentleman) the wrongs I haue done thee, ſtirre

Aſreſh within me : and thofe thy offices

(So rarely kind) are as Interpreters

Of my behind-hand ſlackneſſe. Welcome hither,

As is the Spring to th' Earth. And hath he too

Expos'd this Paragon to th' ſeaſefull vſage

(At least vngentle) of the dreadfull Neptune,

To greet a man, not worth her paines; much leſſe,

Th'aduenture of her perſon?

Flor. Good my Lord,

She came from Libia.

Leo. Where the Warlike Smalus,

That Noble honor'd Lord, is fear'd, and lou'd?

Flor. Moſt Royall Sir,

From thence: from him, whoſe Daughter

His Teares proclaym'd his parting with her: thence

(A prosperous South-wind friendly) we haue cros'd,

To execute the Charge my Father gaue me,

For viſiting your Highneſſe: My beſt Traine

I haue from your Sicilian Shores diſmifs'd;

Who for Bohemia bend, to ſignifie

Not onely my ſucceſſe in Libia (Sir)

But my arriuall, and my Wives, in ſaſetie

Here, where we are.

Leo. The bleſſed Gods

Purge all Inſection from our Ayre, whileſt you

Doe Clymate here: you haue a holy Father,

A gracefull Gentleman, againſt whoſe perſon

(So

The Winters Tale.

300

(So sacrèd as it is) I haue done finne,
For which, the Heauens (taking angry note)
Haue left me Ille-flese: and your Father's bleſs'd
(As he from Heauen merits it) with you,
Worthy his goodneſſe. What might I haue been,
Might I a Sonne and Daughter now haue look'd on,
Such goodly things as you?

Enter a Lord.

Lord. Moſt Noble Sir,
That which I shall report, will beare no credit,
Were not the proofe ſo nigh. Please you (great Sir)
*Bohemia* greets you from himſelfe, by me:

Defires you to attach his Sonne, who ha's

(His Dignitie, and Dutie both caſt off)
Fled from his Father, from his Hopes, and with

A Shephoord's Daughter.

Leo. Where's Bohemia? I speake.

Lord. Here, in your Citie: I now came from him.

I speake amazedly, and it becomes

My meruaile, and my Meffage. To your Court
Whiles he was haſtning (in the Chafe, it ſeesme,
Of this faire Couple) meetes he on the way

The Father of this ſeeming Lady, and

Her Brother, hauing both their Countrey quitted,
With this young Prince.

Flor. Camillo ha's betray'd me;

Whose honor, and whose honeſtie till now,
Endur'd all Weathers.

Lord. Lay't fo to his charge :

He's with the King your Father.

Leo. Who? Camillo?

Lord. Camillo (Sir:) I ſpake with him: who now

Ha's theſe poore men in queſtion. Neuer ſaw I
Wretches ſo quake: they kneele, they kiffle the Earth;

Forſware themſelues as often as they ſpeake;

Bohemia ſtops his eares, and threatens them
With diuers deaths, in death.

Perd. Oh my poore Father :

The Heauen fets Spyes vpon vs, will not haue
Our Contract celebrated.

Leo. You are married ?

Flor. We are not (Sir) nor are we like to be :

The Starres (I ſee) will kiffe the Valleyes firſt :

The oddes for high and low's alike.

Leo. My Lord,

Is this the Daughter of a King?

Flor. She is,

When once ſhe is my Wife.

Leo. That once (I ſee) by your good Fathers ſpeed,
Will come-on very flowely. I am ſorry

(Moſt ſorry) you haue broken from his liking,

Where you were ty'd in dutie: and as ſorry,

Your Chofe is not ſo rich in Worth, as Beautie,

That you might well enioy her.

Flor. Deare, looke vp :

Though Fortune, viſible an Enemie,

Should chafe vs, with my Father; powre no iot

Hath ſhe to change our Loues. Beſeech you (Sir)

Remember, ſince you ow'd no more to Time

Then I doe now: with thought of ſuch Aſfections,

Step ſorth mine Aduocate : at your requeſt,

My Father will graunt precious things, as Trifles,

Leo. Would he doe ſo, I'd beg your precious Miftris,

Which he counts but a Trifle.

Paul. Sir (my Liege)

Your eye hath too much youth in't: not a moneth

'Fore your Queene dy'd, she was more worth ſuch gazers,
Then what you looke on now.

Leo. I thought of her,

Euen in theſe Lookes I made. But your Petition

Is yet vn-anſwer'd: I will to your Father :

Your Honor not o're-throwne by your defires,

I am friend to them, and you: Vpon which Errand

I now goe toward him: therefore follow me,

And marke what way I make: Come good my Lord.

Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Antolicus, and a Gentleman.

Aut. Beſeech you (Sir) were you preſent at this Re-
lation?

Gent. 1. I was by at the opening of the Farthell, heard the old Shepheard deliuer the manner how he found it: Whereupon (after a little amaz'dneſſe) we were all comanded out of the Chamber: onely this (me thought) I heard the Shepheard ſay, he found the Child.

Aut. I would moſt gladly know the ille of it.

Gent. 1. I make a broken deliuerie of the Buſneſſe;
but the changes I perceiued in the King, and Camillo, were
very Notes of admiration: they ſeem'd almost with ſu-
ring on one another, to teare the Cafes of their Eyes.
There was ſpeech in their dumbneſſe, Language in their
very geſture: they look'd as they had heard of a World
ranſom'd, or one destroyed: a notable paſſion of Won-
der appeared in them: but the wifeft beholder, that knew
no more but ſeeing, could not ſay, if th' importance were
Ioy, or Sorrow; but in the extremitie of the one, it muſt
needs be.

Enter another Gentleman.

Here comes a Gentleman, that happily knowes more:
The Newes. Rogero.

Gent. 2. Nothing but Bon-fires: the Oracle is full of
the Kings Daughter is found: ſuch a deale of wonder is
broken out within this houre, that Ballad-makers cannot
be able to expreſſe it.

Enter another Gentleman.

Here comes the Lady Paulina's Steward, hee can deliuer
you more. How goes it now (Sir.) This Newes (which
is call'd true) is ſo like an old Tale, that the veritie of it
in ſtrong ſuſpition: Ha's the King found his Heire?

Gent. 3. Moſt true, if euer Truth were pregnant by
Circumſtance: That which you heare, you'l ſcare
you ſee, there is ſuch vnitie in the proofes. The Mantle
of Queene Hermione: her Iewell about the Neck of it:
the Letters of Antigonus found with it, which they know
to be his Chareſter: the Maieſtie of the Creature, in re-
ſemblance of the Mother: the Aſfection of Noblenſe,
which Nature ſhewes aboue her Breeding, and many o-
ther Euidences. proclayme her, with all certaintie, to be
the Kings Daughter. Did you ſee the meeting of the
two Kings?

Gent. 2. No.

Gent. 3. Then haue you loſt a Sight which was to be
ſeene, cannot bee ſpoken of. There might you haue be-
held one Ioy crowne another, ſo and in ſuch manner, that
it ſeem'd Sorrow wept to take leasure of them: for their
Ioy waded in teares. There was caſing vp of Eyes, hol-
ding vp of Hands, with Countenance of ſuch diſtraCTION,
that they were to be knowne by Garment, not by Fauor.
Our

The Winters Tale.

301

Our King being ready to leape out of himselfe, for loy of his found Daughter; as if that Ioy were now become a Loffe, crieys, Oh, thy Mother, thy Mother : then askes Bohemia forgiueneffle, then embraces his Sonne-in-Law: then againe worryes he his Daughter, with clipping her. Now he thanks the old Shepheard (which stands by, like a Weather-bitten Conduit, of many Kings Reignes.) I never heard of such another Encounter; which lames Report to follow it, and vndo's description to doe it.

*Gent. 2.* What, pray you, became of *Antigonus*, that carried hence the Child?

*Gent. 3.* Like an old Tale still, which will haue matter to reheare, though Credit be alléepe, and not an eare o'-pen; he was torne to pieces with a Beare: This auouches the Shepheards Sonne; who ha's not onely his Innocence (which feemes much) to iustifie him, but a Hand-kerchief and Rings of his, that *Paulina* knowes.

*Gent. 1.* What became of his Barke, and his Fol- lowers?

*Gent. 3.* Wrackt the fame instant of their Masters death, and in the view of the Shepheard: so that all the Instruments which ayded to expone the Child, were even then loft, when it was found. But oh the Noble Combat, that twixt Ioy and Sorrow was fought in *Paulina*. Shee had one Eye declin'd for the loffe of her Husband, another elevated, that the Oracle was fulfill'd: Shee lifted the Princeffe from the Earth, and fo locks her in embracing, as if shee would pin her to her heart, that shee might no more be in danger of loofing.

*Gent. 1.* The Dignitie of this Act was worth the audience of Kings and Princes, for by such was it acted.

*Gent. 3.* One of the prettyest touches of all, and that which ang'd for mine Eyes (caught the Water, though not the fifth) was, when at the Relation of the Queenes death (with the manner how shee came to't, brauey con-fe'd, and lamented by the King ) how attentiuneffle wounded his Daughter, till (from one figne of dolour to another) shee did (with an *Ald*) I would faire fay, bleed Teares; for I am fure, my heart wept blood. Who was moft Marble, there changed colour: fome fwounded,all followed: if all the World could haue feen't, the Woe had beene vnuerfall.

*Gent. 1.* Are they returned to the Court?

*Gent. 3.* No: The Princeffe hearing of her Mothers Statue (which is in the keeping of *Paulina*) a Peece many yeeres in doing, and now newly perform'd, by that rare Italian Mafter, *Julio Romano*, who (had he himselfe Eter-nitie, and could put Breath into his Worke) would be-guile Nature of her Cuftome, so perfectly he is her Ape: He so neere to *Hermione*, hath done *Hermione*, that they fay one would speake to her, and fta nd in hope of answer. Thither (with all greedineffle of affection) are they gone, and there they intend to Sup.

*Gent. 2.* I thought she had fome great matter there in hand, for shee hath privately, twice or thrice a day, euer since the death of *Hermione*, visited that remoued Houfe. Shall we thither, and with our companie peeece the Re-joicing?

*Gent. 1.* Who would be thence, that ha's the benefit of Accesse ? every winke of an Eye, some new Grace will be borne: our Absence makes vs vnthriftie to our Knowledge. Let's along. *Exit.*

*Aut.* Now (had I not the dash of my former life in me) would Preferment drop on my head. I brought the old man and his Sonne aboord the Prince; told him, I heard them talke of a Farthell, and I know not what: but

he at that time ouer-fond of the Shepheards Daughter (fo he then tooke her to be) who began to be much Sea-fick, and himselfe little better, extremitie of Weather continuing, this Mysterie remained vndifcouer'd. But'tis all one to me: for had I beene the finder-out of this Secret, it would not haue relliff'd among my other discredits.

*Enter Shepheard and Clowne.*

Here come thofe I haue done good to againſt my will, and alreadye appearing in the bloſſomes of their Fortune.

*Shep.* Come Boy, I am paſt moe Children: but thy Sonnes and Daughters will be all Gentlemen borne.

*Clow.* You are well met (Sir:) you deny'd to fight with mee this other day, because I was no Gentleman borne. See you theſe Clothes? fay you ſee them not, and thinke me ſtill no Gentleman borne: You were beſt fay theſe Robes are not Gentlemen borne. Giue me the Lye: doe: and try whether I am not now a Gentleman borne.

*Ant.* I know you are now (Sir)a Gentleman borne.

*Clow.* I, and haue been ſo any time theſe foure hours.

*Shep.* And ſo haue I, Boy.

*Clow.* So you haue: but I was a Gentleman borne before my Father: for the Kings Sonne tooke me by the hand, and call'd mee Brother: and then the two Kings call'd my Father Brother: and then the Prince (my Brother) and the Princeſſe (my Sifter) call'd my Father, Father; and ſo wee wept: and there was the firſt Gentleman-like teares that euer we ſhed.

*Shep.* We may lue (Sonne) to ſhed many more.

*Clow.* I: or eſſe 'twere hard luck, being in ſo prepoſte-rous eſtate as we are.

*Ant.* I humbly beſeech you (Sir) to pardon me all the faults I haue committed to your Worſhip, and to giue me your good report to the Prince my Maſter.

*Shep.* Prethee Sonne doe; for we muſt be gentle, now we are Gentlemen.

*Clow.* Thou wilt amend thy life ?

*Ant.* I, and it like your good Worſhip.

*Clow.* Giue me thy hand: I will ſwre to the Prince, thou art as honest a true Fellow as any is in Bohemia.

*Shep.* You may ſay it, but not ſwre it.

*Clow.* Not ſwre it, now I am a Gentleman ? Let Boores and Francklins ſay it, Ile ſwre it.

*Shep.* How it it be falſe (Sonne)?

*Clow.* If it be ne're ſo falſe, a true Gentleman may ſwre it, in the behalfe of his Friend: And Ile ſwre to the Prince, thou art a tall Fellow of thy hands, and that thou wilt not be drunke: but I know thou art no tall Fel-low of thy hands, and that thou wilt be drunke: but Ile ſwre it, and I would thou would'ſt be a tall Fellow of thy hands.

*Ant.* I will proue ſo (Sir) to my power.

*Clow.* I, by any meanes proue a tall Fellow: if I do not wonder, how thou dar'ſt venture to be drunke, not being a tall Fellow, truſt me not. Harke, the Kings and the Princes (our Kindred) are going to see the Queenes Picture. Come, follow vs: wee'le be thy good Maſters. *Exeunt.*

## Scena Tertia.

*Enter Leontes, Polixenes, Florizell, Perdita, Camillo, Paulina: Hermione (like a Statue:) Lords, &c.*

*Leo.* O graue and good *Paulina*, the great comfort That I haue had of thee?

Cc

*Paul. What*

The Winters Tale.

302

Paul. What (Soueraigne Sir)

I did not well, I meant well: all my Seruices
You haue pay'd home. But that you haue vouchsaf'd
(With your Crown'd Brother,and thefe your contracted
Heires of your Kingdomes) my poore House to visit;
It is a surplus of your Grace,which neuer
My life may laft to anfwere.

Leo. O Paulina,

We honor you with trouble: but we came
To see the Statue of our Queene, Your Gallerie
Hae we paſ'd through,not without much content
In many singularities; but we law not
That which my Daughter came to looke vpon,
The Statue of her Mother.

Paul. As ſhe liu'd peereleſſe,

So her dead likeneſſe I doe well beleeue
Excels what euer yet you look'd vpon,
Or hand of Man hath done: therefore I keepe it
Louely,apart. But here it is: prepare
To see the Life as liuely mock'd,as euer
Still Sleepe mock'd Death:behold,and ſay'tis well.
I like your ſilence,it the more ſhewes off
Your wonder: but yet ſpeake,first you (my Liege)
Comes it not ſomething neere ?

Leo. Her naturall Poſture.

Chide me (deare Stone) that I may ſay indeed
Thou art Hermione; or rather,thou art ſhe,
In thy chiding: for ſhe was as tender
As Infancie, and Grace. But yet (Paulina)
Hermione was not so much wrinckled,nothing
So aged as this ſeesme.

Pol. Oh,not by much.

Paul. So much the more our Caruers excellence,
Which lets goe-by ſome fixteene yeeres,and makes her
As ſhe liu'd now.

Leo. As now ſhe might haue done,

So much to my good comfort, as it is
Now piercing to my Soule. Oh,thus ſhe flood,
Euen with ſuch Life of Maieflie (warme Life,
As now it coldly stands) when firſt I woo'd her.
I am aſham'd: Do's not the Stone rebuke me,
For being more Stone then it? Oh Royall Peece:
There's Magick in thy Maieftie, which ha's
My Euils coniur'd to remembrance; and
From thy admiring Daughter tooke the Spirits,
Standing like Stone with thee.

Perd. And giue me leaue,

And doe not ſay'tis Superſition, that
I kneele,and then implore her Bleſſing, Lady,
Deere Queene, that ended when I but began,
Giue me that hand of yours,to kiffle.

Paul. O, patience:

The Statue is but newly fix'd; the Colour's
Not dry.

Cam. My Lord,your Sorrow was too fore lay'd-on,
Which fixteene Winters cannot blow away,
So many Summers dry: ſcarce any Ioy
Did euer so long lue; no Sorrow,
But kill'd it ſelfe much sooner.

Pol. Deere my Brother,

Let him, that was the cauſe of this,haue powre
To take-off so much grieſe from you,as he
Will peeece vp in himſelfe.

Paul. Indeed my Lord,

If I had thought the fight of my poore Image
Would thus haue wrought you (for the Stone is mine)

It'd not haue ſhew'd it.

Leo. Doe not draw the Curtaine,

Paul. No longer ſhall you gaze on't,leav't your Fancie
May thinke anon,it moues.

Leo. Let be, let be:

Would I were dead, but that me thinkes already.
(What was he that did make it?) See (my Lord)
Would you not deeme it breath'd, and that thole veins
Did verily beare blood?

Pol. Maſterly done:

The very Life ſeesme warme vpon her Lippe.

Leo. The ſixture of her Eye ha's motion in't,
As we are mock'd with Art.

Paul. Ile draw the Curtaine:

My Lord's almost ſo farre transported,that
Hee'le thinke anon it lives.

Leo. Oh ſweet Paulina,

Make me to thinke so twentie yeeres together:

No fetled Sences of the World can match
The pleaſure of that madneſſe. Let't alone.

Paul. I am ſorry (Sir) I haue thus farre fir'd you: but
I could afflict you farther.

Leo. Doe Paulina:

For this Afflietion ha's a tafe as ſweer
As any Cordiall comfort. Still me thinkes
There is an ayre comes from her. What fine Chizzell
Could euer yet cut breath? Let no man mock me,
For I will kiffle her.

Paul. Good my Lord, forbeare:

The ruddineſſe vpon her Lippe, is wet:
You'le marre it,if you kiffle it; ſtayne your owne
With Oyly Painting: ſhall I draw the Curtaine,

Leo. No: not the ſe twenty yeeres.

Perd. So long could I

Stand-by, a looker-on.

Paul. Either forbeare,

Quit preſently the Chappell, or refolue you
For more amazement: if you can behold it,
Ile make the Statue moue indeed; defенд,
And take you by the hand: but then you le thinke
(Which I proteſt againſt) I am aſſiſted
By wicked Powers.

Leo. What you can make her doe,

I am content to looke on: what to ſpeake,
I am content to heare: for'tis as caſe

To make her ſpeake,as moue,

Paul. It is requir'd

You doe awake your Faith: then,all ſtand ſtill:

On: thofe that thinke it is vnlawfull Buſineſſe
I am about, let them depart.

Leo. Proceed:

No foot ſhall firre.

Paul. Maiſick; a wake her: Strike:

'Tis time: defend: be Stone no more: approach:

Strike all that looke vpon with meruaile: Come:

Ile fill your Graue vp: firre: nay,come away:

Bequeath to Death your numneſſe: (for from him,
Deare Life redeemes you) you perceiue ſhe firres:

Start not: her Actions ſhall be holy, as

You heare my Spell is lawfull: doe not ſhun her,
Vntill you ſee her dye againe; for then

You kill her double: Nay, preſent your Hand:

When ſhe was young, you woo'd her: now, in age,
Is ſhe become the Suitor?

Leo. Oh, ſhe's warme:

If this be Magick, let it be an Art

Law

The Winters Tale.

303

Lawfull as Eating.
Pol. She embraces him,
Cam. She hangs about his necke,
If the pertaine to life, let her speake too.
Pol. I, and make it manifest where she ha's liu'd,
Or how holne from the dead?
Paul. That she is liuing,
Were it but told you, should be hooted at
Like an old Tale : but it appeares she liues,
Though yet she speake not. Marke a little while:
Peale you to interpole (faire Madam) kneele,
And pray your Mothers blessing : turne good Lady;
Our Perdita is found.
Her. You Gods looke downe,

Her. You Gods looke downe,
And from your sacred Viols poure your graces
Vpony daughters head : Tell me (mine owne)
Where haft thou bin preferu'd? Where liu'd? How found
Thy Fathers Court? For thou shalt heare that I
Knowing by Paulina, that the Oracle
Graue hope thou waft in being, haue preferu'd
My selfe, to fee the yffue.
Paul. There's time enough for that,

Paul. There's time enough for that,
Leaf they defire (pon this puu') to trouble
Your ioyes, with like Relation. Go together
You precious winners all : your exultation

Partake to every one : I (an old Turtle)
Will wing me to fome wither'd bough, and there
My Mate (that's neuer to be found againe)
Lament, till I am loft.

Leo. O peace Paulina:

Thou shouldst a husband take by my consent,
As I by thine a Wife. This is a Match,
And made betweene's by Vowes. Thou haft found mine,
But how, is to be quefition'd : for I saw her
(As I thought) dead : and haue (in vaine) said many
A'prayer vpon her graue. Ile not seeke farre
(For him, I partly know his minde) to finde thee
An honourable husband. Come Camillo,

And take her by the hand : whose worth, and honesty
Is richly noted : and heere iustified

By Vs, a paire of Kings. Let's from this place.
What? looke vpon my Brother : both your pardons,
That ere I put betweene your holy lookses.

My ill sufpfition : This your Son-in-law,
And Sonne vnto the King, whom heauens directing

Is troth-plight to your daughter. Good Paulina,

Leade vs from hence, where we may leyfurely
Each one demand, and anfwere to his part

Perform'd in this wide gap of Time, since first

We were diſſeuer'd : Haftily lead away.

Exeunt.

The Names of the Actors.

Leontes, King of Sicilia.

Leontes, King of Sicilia.

Camillo.

Antigonus. Foure

Antigonus. Fourre
Cleonines. Lords of Sicilia.

Dion.

Hermione, Queen to Leontes.

Perdita, Daughter to Leontes and Hermione.

Paulina, wife to Antigonus.

Emilia, a Lady.

Emilia, a Lady.
Polixenes, King of Bohemia.

Florizell, Prince of Bohemia.

Old Shepheard, repuſed Father of Perdita.

Clowne, his Sonne.

Autolicus, a Rogue.

Autolicus, a Rogue.
Archidamus, a Lord of Bohemia.

Other Lords, and Gentlemen, and Seruants.

Shepheards, and Shephearddeſſes.

FINIS.

The life and death of King Iohn.

Actus Primus, Scena Prima.

Enter King Iohn, Queen Elinor, Pembroke, Eſsex, and Sa-
libury, with the Chattydion of France.

King Iohn.

O w ay Chatillion, what would France with vs ?
Chat. Thus (after greeting) speaks the King
of France,
In my behauiour to the Maieſtly,
The borrowed Maieſtly of England heere.

Ela. A strange beginning: borrowed Maieſtly ?

K. Iohn. Silence (good mother) heare the Embaſſe.
Chat, Philip of France, in right and true behalfe

Of thy decaſed brother, Geſſreyes ſonne,
Arthur Plantaginets, laies moſt lawfull claime

To this faire Iland, and the Territories :

To Ireland, Poſſers, Aniowe, Torayne, Maine,
Defining thee to lay aſide the ſword

Which ſwaies vſurpingly these ſeuerall titles,
And put the fame into yong Arthur's hand,
Thy Nephew, and right royall Soueraigne.

K. Iohn. What followes if we diſallow of this?

Chat. The proud controle ofſterce and bloudy warre,
To inforce theſe rights, ſo forcibly with-held,

K. I. Heere haue we war for war, & bloud for bloud,
Controlement for controlement: ſo anſwer France.

Chat. Then take my Kings defiance from my mouth,
The farthest limit of my Embaſſe.

K. Iohn. Beare mine to him, and ſo depart in peace,
Be thou as lightning in the eies 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 owne decay :

An honourable conduct let him haue,

Pembroke looke too't: farewell Chatillion.

Exit Chat. and Pem.

Ela. What now my ſonne, haue I not euer laid
How that ambitious Conſtance would not ceaſe
Till ſhe had kindled France and all the world,
Vpon the right and party of her ſonne.

This might haue beene prevented, and made whole
With very eſtie arguments of loue,

Which now the mannaſe of two kingdomes muſt
With fearefull bloudy ſlue arbitrate.

K. Iohn. Our strong poſſeffion, and our right for vs.

Ela. Your strong poſſerſi6 much more then your right,
Or eſſe it muſt go wrong with you and me,
So much my confidence whispeſers in your care,

Which none but heauen, and you, and I, shall heare.

Enter a Sheriſſe.

Eſſex. My Liege, here is the strangeſt controuſerſe
Come from the Country to be iudg'd by you
That ere I heard: ſhall I produce the men?

K. Iohn. Let them approach :

Our Abbies and our Priories ſhall pay
This expeditious charge, what men are you?

Enter Robert Faulconbridge, and Philip.

Philip. Your faithfull ſubieſt, I a gentleman,
Borne in Northamptonſhire, and eldest ſonne
As I ſuppoſe, to Robert Faulconbridge,
A Souldier by the Honor-giuing-hand
Of Cordelion, Knighted in the field.

K. Iohn. What art thou?

Robert. The ſon and heire to that ſame Faulconbridge.

K. Iohn. Is that the elder, and art thou the heyre?

You came not of one mother then it ſeemes.

Philip. Moſt certain of one mother, mighty King,
That is well knowne, and as I thinke one father:
But for the cerraine knowledge of that truth,
I put you o're to heauen, and to my mother :
Of that I doubt, as all mens children may.

Eli. Out on thee rude man, y doſt ſhame thy mother,
And wound her honor with this diſtidence.

Phil. I Madame ? No, I haue no reaſon for it,
That is my brothers plea, and none of mine,
The which if he can proue, a pops me out,
At leaſt from faire ſiue hundred pound a yeere:
Heauen guard my mothers honor, and my Land.

K. Iohn. A good blunt fellow: why being younger born
Doth he lay claime to thine inheritance?

Phil. I know not why, except to get the land:
But once he ſlanderd me with baſtardy :

But where I be as true begot or no,
That ſtill I lay vpon my mothers head,
But that I am as well begot my Liege

(Faire fall the bones that tooke the paines for me)
Compare our faces, and be Iudge your ſelſe
If old Sir Robert did beget vs both,
And were our father, and this ſonne like him:

O old fir Robert Father, on my knee
I giue heauen thankes I was not like to thee.

K. Iohn. Why what a mad-cap hath heauen lent vs here?

Elen. He hath a tricke of Cordelions ſace,
The accent of his tongue affecteth him:

Doe you not read ſome tokens of my ſonne
In the large composition of this man?

K. I ob

The life and death of King John.

2

K. John. Mine eye hath well examined his parts,
And findes them perfect Richard : firra speake,
What doth moue you to claime your brothers land.

Philip. Because be hath a half-face like my father :
With halfe that face would he haue all my land,
A halfe-fac'd great, fiue hundred pound a yeare?

Rob. My gracious Liege, when that my father liu'd,
Your brother did employ my father much.

Phil. Well fir, by this you cannot get my land,
Your tale muſt be how he employ'd my mother.

Rob. And once diſpatch'd him in an Embaſſe

To Germany, there with the Emperor
To treat of high affaires touching that time :
Th'aduantage of his abſence tooke the King,
And in the meane time ſoiourn'd at my fathers ;
Where how he did preuaile, I ſhame to speake:
But truth is truth, large lengths of feas and ſhores
Betweene my father, and my mother lay,
As I haue heard my father ſpeake himſelfe
When this fame lufly gentleman was got :
Vpon his death-bed he by will bequeath'd
His lands to me, and tooke it on his death
That this my mothers ſonne was none of his;
And if he were, he came into the world
Full fourteene weekes before the course of time :
Then good my Liede let me haue what is mine,
My fathers land, as was my father will.

K. John. Sirra, your brother is Legittimate,
Your fathers wife did after wedlocke beare him :
And if he did play falſe, the tault was hers,
Which fault lyes on the hazards of all husbands
That marry wiues : tell me, how if my brother
Who as you ſay, tooke paines to get this ſonne,
Had of your father claim'd this ſonne for his,
Infooth, good friend, your father might haue kept
This Calſe, bred from his Cow from all the world :
Infooth he might: then if he were my brothers,
My brother might not claime him, nor your father
Being none of his, refuse him : this concludes,
My mothers ſonne did get your fathers heyre,
Your fathers heyre muſt haue your fachers land.

Rob. Shal then my fathers Will be of no force,
To diſpoſſeſſe that childe which is not his.

Phil. Of no more force to diſpoſſeſſe me fir,

Then was his will to get me, as I think.

Eli. Whether hadſt thou rather be a Faulconbridge,
And like thy brother to enioy thy land :
Or the reputed ſonne of Cordelion,
Lord of thy prefence, and no land beſide.

Baſt. Madam, and if my brother had my ſhape
And I had his, fir Roberts his like him,
And if my legs were two ſuch riding rods,
My armes, ſuch ele-skins ſluſt, my face ſo thin,
That in mine eare I durſt not ſticke a roſe,
Left men ſhould ſay, looke where three farthings goes,
And to his ſhape were heyre to all this land,
Would I might neuer ſirre from off this place,
I would giue it every foot to haue this face :
It would not be fir nobbe in any cafe.

Eliuor. I like thee well: wilt thou forſake thy fortune,
Bequeath thy land to him, and follow me?
I am a Souldier, and now bound to France.

Baſt. Brother, take you my land, Ile take my chances
Your face hath got ſiue hundred pound a yeare,
Yet ſell your face for ſiue pence and 'tis decre:
Madam, Ile follow you vnto the death.

Eliuor. Nay, I would haue you go before me thither.
Baſt. Our Country manners giue our betters way.
K. John. What is thy name?

Baſt. Philip my Liege, is my name begun,
Philip, good old Sir Roberts wiues eldelt ſonne.

K. John. From henceforth beare his name

Whole forme thou beareſt :

Kneele thou downe Philip, but rife more great,
Arise Sir Richard, and Plantagenet.

Baſt. Brother by th'mothers ſide, giue me your hand,
My father gaue me honor, yours gaue land :
Now bleſſed be the houre by night or day
When I was got, Sir Robert was away.

Ele. The very ſpirit of Plautaginet :
I am thy grandame Richard, call me so.

Baſt. Madam by chance, but not by truth, what thin:
Something about a little from the right,
In at the window, or else ore the hatch :
Who dares not ſturre by day, muſt walke by night,
And haue is haue, how euer men doe catch:
Neere or farre off, well wonne is fill well ſhot,
And I am I, how ere I was begot.

K. John. Goc, Faulconbridge, now haſt thou thy deſt,
A landleſſe Knight, makes thee a landed Squire :
Come Madam, and come Richard, we muſt ipeed
For France, for France, for it is more then need.

Baſt. Brother adieu, good fortune come to thee,
For thou waſt got i'th way of honesty.

Exeunt all but baſtard.

Baſt. A foot of Honor better then I was,
But many a many foot of Land the worſe.
Well, now can I make any Ioane a Lady,
Good den Sir Richard, Godamercy ſellow,
And if his name be George, Ile call him Peter;
For new made honor doth forget mens names:
'Tis two reſpectiue, and too ſociable
For your converſion, now your traveiller,
Hee and his tooth-picke at my worſhips meſſe,
And when my knightly ſtomacke is ſuffi'd,
Why then I fucke my teeth, and catechize
My picked man of Countries : my deare fir,
Thus leaning on mine elbow I begin,
I shall beſeeth you; that is queſtion now,
And then comes anſwer like an Abſey booke:
O fir, ſayes anſwer, at your beſt command,
At your employment, at your ſeruice fir :
No fir, ſaies queſtion, I ſweet fir at yours,
And so ere anſwer knowes what queſtion would,
Sauing in Dialogue of Complement,
And talking of the Alpes and Appenines,
The Perrennean and the riuer Poë,
It drawses toward ſupper in conclusion ſo,
But this is worſhip full ſociety,
And fits the mounting ſpirit like my ſelfe;
For he is but a baſtard to the time
That doth not ſmoake of obſeruation,
And so am I whether I ſmacke or no :
And not alone in habit and deuice,
Exterior forme, outward accoutrement;
But from the inward motion to deliuer
Sweet, ſweet, ſweet poyſon for the ages tooth,
Which though I will not practice to deſciue,
Yet to auoid deceit I meane to leane;
For it ſhall strew the footſteps of my riling :
But who comes in ſuch haſte in riding roſe?

What

3

What woman poft is this ? hath she no husband
That will take paines to blow a horne before her?
O me, 'is my mother : how now good Lady,
What brings you here to Court to haftily be?

Enter Lady Faulconbridge and James Gurney.

Lad. Where is that flue thy brother ? where is he?
That holds in chafe mine honour vp and downe.

Baf. My brother Robert, old Sir Roberts sonne:
Colbrand the Gyane, that fame mighty man,

Is it Sir Roberts sonne that you feele so for?

Lad. Sir Roberts sonne, I thou vnreuerend boy,
Sir Roberts sonne ? why so ? at fit Robert ?
He is Sir Roberts sonne, and so art thou.

Baf. James Gournie, wile thou giue vs leane a while?

Gour. Good leaue good Philip.

Baf. Philip, Sparrow, James,

There's toyes abroad, anon I'll tell thee more.

Exit James.

Madam, I was not old Sir Roberts sonne,

Sir Robert might have eat his part in me

Vpon good Friday, and nere broke his faft:

Sir Robert could doe well, marrie to confesse

Could get me fit Robert could not doe it;

We get his handy-worke, therefore good mother

To whom am I beholding for these limmes?

Sir Robert neuer holpe to make this legge.

Lad. Haft thou confpired with thy brother too,
That for thine owne gaine shouldft defend mine honor?

What means this toorne, thou moft vntoward knaue?

Baf. Knight, knight good mother, Bafliſco-like:

What, I am dub'd, I haue it on my fhoulder :

But mother, I am not Sir Roberts sonne,

I haue disclaim'd 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?

Lad. Haft thou denied thy selfe a Faulconbridge?

Baf. As faithfully as I denie the deuill.

Lad. King Richard Cordelion was thy father,
By long and vehement fuit I was ſeduc'd

To make roome for him in my husbands bed :

Heauen lay not my transgrefion to my charge,

That art the ſlue of my deere offence

Which was so strongly vrg'd paſt my defence.

Baf. Now by this light were I to get againe,

Madam I would not wifh a better father :

Some finnes doe beare their priuledge on earth,

And fo doth yours : your fault, was not your folie,

Needs muſt you lay your heart at his diſpoſe,

Subiſted tribute to commanding loue,

Against whole ſurie and vnmatched force,

The awlſſe Lion could not wage the fight,

Nor keepe his Princely heart from Richards hand :

He that perſorce robs Lions of their hearts,

May easily winne a womans: aye my mother,

With all my heart I thanke thee for my father :

Who liues and dares but ſay, thou didſt not well

When I was got, Ile ſend his ſoule to hell.

Come Lady I will ſhow thee to my kinne,

And they ſhall ſay, when Richard me begot,

If thou hadt ſayd him may, it had beene finne;

Who ſayes it was, he lyes, I ſay twas not.

Exeunt.

## Scæna Secunda.

Enter before Angiers, Philip King of France, Lewis, Daul-
phin, Austria, Conſiance, Arithur.

Lewis. Before Angiers well met braue Auftria,
Arthur that great fore-runner of thy bloud,

Richard that rob'd the Lion of his heart,

And fought the holy Warres in Paleſtine,

By this braue Duke came early to his graue:

And for amends to his poſteritie,

At our importance hether is he come,

To spread his colours boy, in thy behalfe,

And to rebuke the vſurpation

Of thy vnnaſtural Vncle, English John,

Embrace him, loue him, giue him welcome hether.

Arth. God shall forgive you Cordelions death

The rather, that you giue his off-ſpring life,

Shadowing their right vnder your wings of warre,

I giue you welcome with a powerleſſe hand,

But with a heart full of vnſtained loue,

Welcome before the gates of Angiers Duke.

Lewis. A noble boy, who would not doe mee right?

Baf. Vpon thy checke lay I this zelous kisse,

As feale to this indenture of my loue:

That to my home I will no more returne

Till Angiers, and the right thou haſt in France,

Together with that pale, that white-fac'd shore,

Whose foot spurnes backe the Oceans roaring tides,

And coopes from other lands her Ilanders,

Euen till that England hedg'd in with the maine,

That Water-walled Bulwarke, still ſecure

And confident from forreine purpofes,

Euen till that vtmoſt corner of the Weſt

Salute thee for her King, till then faire boy

Will I not thinke of home, but follow Armes.

Conſ. O take his mothers thanks, a widdows thanks,

Till your strong hand shall helpe to giue him ſtrength,

To make a more requitall to your loue.

Baf. The peace of heauen is theirs y lift their ſwords

In ſuch a iuſt and charitable warre.

King. Well, then to worke our Cannon shall be bent

Against the browes of this reſtling towne,

Call for our cheeſet men of discipline,

To cull the plots of beſt aduantages :

Wee'll lay before this towne our Royal bones,

Wade to the market-place in French-mens bloud,

But we will make it ſubiect to this boy.

Con. Stay for an anſwer to your Embaſſe,

Left vnaduis'd you ſtaine your ſwords with bloud,

My Lord Chatiſtions may from England bring

That right in peace which heere we vge in warre,

And then we shall repent each drop of bloud,

That hot raſh haſte so indirectly ſheddie.

Enter Chatiſtions.

Kmg. A wonder Lady: lo vpon thy wifh

Our Meſſenger Chatiſtions is arriu'd,

What England faies, ſay brefely gentle Lord,

We coldly paſſe for thee, Chatiſtions ſpeake,

Chas. Then turne your forces from this paltry ſiege,

And ſtire them vp againſt a mightier taske :

England impatient of your iuſt demands,

Hath put himſelfe in Armes, the aduerſe windes

Whose

4

Whose leisure I haue flaid, haue giuen him time
To land his Legions all asSONE as I:

His marches are expedient to this towne,

His forces strong, his Souldiers confident :
With him along is come the Mother Queene,
An Ace flitting him to bloud and strife,

With her her Neece, the Lady Blanch of Spaine,
With them a Baftard of the Kings de ceaft,
And all the unflotted humors of the Land,

Rash, inconfident,fiery voluntaries,

With Ladies faces, and fierce Dragons spleenes,
Hauë fold their fortunes at their native homes,
Bearing their birth-rights proudly on their backs,
To make a hazard of new fortunes here:

In briefe, a brauer choyse of dauntlesse Spirits
Then now the English bottomes haue waft o're,
Did neuer flote vpon the twelling tide,
To doe offence and feathe in Christendome :

The interruption of their churlish drums

Cuts off more circumftance, they are at hand,

Drum beats.

To parlie or to fight, therefore prepare.

KIN. How much vnlook'd for, is this expedition.

Auſt. By how much vnexpected, by how much

We must awake indeuor for defence,

For courage mounteth with occafion,

Let them be welcome then, we are prepar'd.

Enter K. of England, Baſtard, Queene, Blanch, Pembroke,
and others.

K. John. Peace be to France: If France is peace permit
Our iust and lineall entrance to our owne;
If not, bleede France, and peace ascend to heauen.
Whiles we Gods wrathfull agent doe correct
Their proud contempt that beats his peace to heauen,
Fran. Peace be to England, if that warre returne
From France to England, there to liue in peace :
England we loue, and for that Englands fake,
With burden of our armor heere we few;
This toyle of ours should be a worke of thine;
But thou from louing England art so farre,
That thou haft vnder-wrought his lawfull King,
Cut off the sequence of poſterity,
Out-faced Infant State, and done a rape
Vpon the maiden vertue of the Crowne :
Looke heere vpon thy brother Geſſreyes face,
These eyes, these browes, were moulded out of his;
This little abſtact doth containe that large,
Which died in Geſſrey:and the hand of time,
Shall draw this breeſe into as huge a volume:
That Geſſrey was thy elder brother borne,
And this his ſonne, England was Geſſreys right,
And this is Geſſreyes in the name of God:
How comes it then that thou art call'd a King,
When liuing blood doth in these temples beat
Which owe the crowne, that thou ore-mafterſt?

K. John. From whom haſt thou this great commiſſion
to draw my anſwer from thy Articles?
Fra. Frō that ſupernal Iudge that ſtirs good thoughts
in any beaſt of strong authoritie,
to looke into the blots and ſtaines of right.
That Iudge hath made me guardian to this boy,
Vnder whose warrant I impeach thy wrong,
And by whose helpe I meane to chaſtife it.

K. John. Alack thou doſt, vurper authoritie,
Fran. Excuse it is to beat vurping downe.
Queen. Who is it thou doſt call vurper France?
Conſ. Let me make anſwer: thy vurping ſonne.
Queen. Out insolent, thy baſtard shall be King,
That thou maſt be a Queen, and checke the world.

Con. My bed was euer to thy ſonne as true
As thine was to thy husband, and this boy

Liker in feature to his father Geſſrey
Then thou and Ioh, in manners being as like,

As raine to water, or deuill to his damme;

My boy a baſtard? by my ſoule I thinke

His father neuer was so true begot,

It cannot be, and if thou wert his mother,

Queen. There's a good mother boy, that blots thy ſon.

Conſ. There's a good grandame boy

That would blot thee.

Auſt. Peace.

Baſt. Heare the Cryer.

Auſt. What the deuill art thou?

Baſt. One that wil play the deuill fir with you,
And a may catch your hide and you alone:

You are the Hare of whom the Prouerb goes
Whose valour plucks dead Lyons by the beard;
Ile moake your skin-coat and I catch you right,
Sirra looke too't, yfaith I will, yfaith.

Blan. O well did he become that Lyons robe,
That did difrobe the Lion of that robe.

Baſt. It lies as fightely on the backe of him
As great Alcides ſnooes vpon an Aſſe:
But Aſſe, Ile take that burthen from your backe,
Or lay on that that shall make your shoulders cracke.

Auſt. What cracker is this fame that deafeas our eares
With this abundance of ſuperfluous breath?

King Lewis, determine what we shall doſtrait.

Lew. Women & fooles, breake off your conference.
King Ioh, this is the very ſumme of all:

England and Ireland, Angiers, Toraine, Maine,

In right of Arthur doe I claime of thee:

Wilt thou refigne them, and lay downe thy Armes?

John. My life as ſoone: I doe define thee France,
Arthur of Britaine, yeeld thee to my hand,
And out of my deere loue I give thee more,
Then ere the coward hand of France can win;
Submit thee boy.

Queen. Come to thy grandame child.

Conſ. Doe childe, goe to yt grandame childe,
Gie grandame kingdome, and it grandame will
Gie yt a plum, a cherry, and a figge,
There's a good grandame.

Arthur. Good my mother peace,
I would that I were low laid in my graue,

I am not worth this coyle that's made for me. (weepes)
Qu. Mo. His mother thames him so, poore boy her
Con. Now ſhame vpon you where she does or no,
His grandames wrongs, and not his mothers ſhames
Drawes thofe heauen-mouing pearles: frō his poor eies,
Which heauen shall take in nature of a fee:

I, with these Chriſtall beads heauen shall be brib'd
To doe him Iuſtice, and reuenge on you.

Qu. Thou monſtrous ſlanderer of heauen and earth,
Con. Thou monſtrous Iouurer of heauen and earth,
Call not me ſlanderer, thou and thine vurper
The Dominations, Royalties, and rights
Of this oppreſſed boy; this is thy eldeſt ſonnes ſonne,
Infortunate in nothing but in thee:

5

Thy finnes are visited in this poore childe,
The Canon of the Law is laide on him,

Being but the second generation
Remoued from thy finne-conceiting wome,

John. Bedlam have done.

Coe. I have but this to say,

That he is not only plagued for her fin,
But God hath made her finne and her, the plague

On this remoued ille, plagued for her,
And with her plague her finne his injury

Her intrieue the Beadle to her finne,
All punifh'd in the perſon of this childe,
And all for her, a plague upon her.

Qve. Thou vnaduſted cold, I can produce

A Will, that barres the title of thy ſonne:

Con. I who doubts that a Will : a wicked will,

A women will, a cankred Grandams will.

Fra. Peace, Lady, paſſe, or be more temperate,

It'll beſeemes this preſence to cry ayme

To the ſeill-muned repetitions :
Some Trumpet ſummon hither to the walles

The men of Angiers, let vs heare them ſpeake,
Whose title they admit, *Arthur* or *Johns*.

## Trumpet ſounds.

Enter a Citizen upon the walles.

Cit. Who is it that hath warn'd vs to the walles?

Fra. Tis France, for England.

John. England for it ſelfe.

Younen of Angiers, and my louing ſubieſts.

Fra. You louing men of Angiers, *Arthur* ſubieſts,
Our Trumpet call'd you to this gentle partre.

John. For our aduantage, therefore heare vs firſt:

These flagges of France that are aduanced heere

Before the eye and proſpect of your Towne,

Have hither march'd to your endamagement.

The Canons haue their bowles full of wrath,

And ready mounted are they to ſpit forth

Their Iron indignation gainſt your walles :

All preparation for a bloode ſledge

And merciles proceeding, by theſe French,

Comfort yours Citties eies, your winking gates :

And but for our approach, that ſleeping ſtones,

That as a wale doth girdle you about

By the compulſion of their Ordinance,

By this time from their ſixed beds of lime

Had bin diſhabited, and wide hauocke made

For bloody power to ruff vpon your peace.

But on the fight of vs your lawfull King,

Who painefull with much expedient march

Have brought a counter-cheeke before your gates,

To ſaue vnSCRATCH'd your Citties threatened cheekeſ:

Behold the French amaz'd vouchſaſe a parle,

And now inſteed of bulleſts wrapt in fire

To make a shaking ſeuer in your walles,

They ſnooſe but calme words, folded vp in ſmoake,

To make a faithleſſe errour in your eares,

Which truſt accordingly kinde Cittizens,

And let vs in, Your King, whose labour'd ſpirits

Fore-wearied in this action of ſwift ſpeede,

Craues harbourage within your Citie walles.

Erane. When I haue faſſe, make anſwer to vs both.

Loe in this right hand, whoſe protection

Is moſt diuinely vow'd upon the right.

Of him it holds, ſtands yong *Plantagenet*,

Sonne to the elder brother of this man:

And King or him, and all that he enioyes:

For this downe-troden equity, we tread

In warlike march, the ſe greenes before your Towne,
Being no further enemy to you

Then the conſtraint of hospitable zeale,

In the reeleſe of this oppreſſed childe,

Religiously prouokes. Be pleased then

To pay that dutie which you truly owe,

To him that owes it, namely, this yong Prince,

And then our Armes, like to a muzled Beare,

Sau'd in aspect, hath all offence ſeal'd vp :

Our Cannons malice vainly ſhall be ſpent

Againſt th'involuerable clouds of heauen,

And with a bleſſed and vn-yext retyre,

With vnhaſk'd ſwords, and Helmets all vnbruſ'd,

We will beare home that Iuſtie blood againe,

Which heere we came to ſpout againſt your Towne,

And leaue your children, wities, and you in peace.

But if you fondly paffe our proſſer'd offer,

Tis not the founder of your old-fac'd walles,

Can hide you from our meſſengers of Warre,

Though all theſe English, and their diſcipline

Were harbour'd in their rúde circumference :

Then tell vs, Shall your Citie call vs Lord,

In that behalſe which we haue challeſſ'd it?

Or ſhall we giue the ſignall to our rage,

And ſtalke in blood to our poſſeffion?

Cit. In breeſe, we are the King of Englands ſubieſts
For him, and in his right, we hold this Towne.

Johns. Acknowledgethen the King, and let me in.

Cit. That can we not : but he that proſues the King
To him will we proue loyall, till that time

Hae we ramm'd vp our gates againſt the world.

John. Doth not the Crowne of England, prooue the King?

And if not that, I bring you Wituſſes

Twice ſiſteene thouſand hearts of Englands breed.

Baſt. Baſtards and eſſe.

John. To veriſe our title with their lives.

Fran. As many and as well-borne bloods as theſe,

Bast. Some Baſtards too.

Fran. Stand in his face to contradict his claims.

Cit. Till you compound whoſe right is worthiſt,
We for the worthiſt hold the right from both.

John. Then God forgiue the ſinne of all theſe ſoules,
That to their euerlaſting ſtidence,

Before the dew of euening fall, ſhall fleere

In dreadfull triall of our kingdomes King,

Fran. Amen, Amen, mount Cheualiers to Armes.

Bast. Saint George that ſwindg'd the Dragon,

And ere ſince ſit's on's horseſacke at mine Hofteſſe dore

Teach vs ſome ſence. Sirrah, were I at home

At your den ſirrah, with your Lionneſſe,

I would ſet an Oxe-head to your Lyons hide.

And make a monſter of you.

Auſt. Peace, no more.

Bast. O tremble: for you heare the Lyon rore.

John. Vp higher to the plaine, where we'll ſet forth
In beſt appointment all our Regiments.

Bast. Speed then to take aduantage of the ſield,

Fra. It ſhall be ſo, and at the other hill

Command the reſt to ſtand, God and our right. Exeunt

Heere after excursions, Enter the Herald of France
with Trumpets to the gates.

F. Her. You men of Angiers open wide your gates,
And let yong *Arthur* Duke of Britaine in,

A a 3

Who

Who by the hand of France, this day hath made
Much worke for teares in many an English mother,
Whose fonnes lye scattered on the bleeding ground;
Many a widowes husband grueling lies,
Coldly embracing the discoloured earth,
And victorie with little loffe, doth play
Vpon the dancing bannets of the French,
Who are at hand triumphantly displayed.
To enter Conquerors, and to proclaime

Arthur of Britaine, Englands King, and yours.

*Enter English Herald with Trumpet.*

E. Har. Rejoyce you men of Angiers, ring your bels,
King John, your king and Englands, doth approach,
Commander of this hot malicious day,
Their Armours that march'd hence so filuer bright,
Hither returne all gilt with Frenchmens blood :
There flucke no plume in any English Creft,
That is remoued by a staffe of France :
Our colours do returne in those fame hands
That did display them when we first marcht forth :
And like a jolly troope of Huntmen come
Our luftie English, all with purpled hands,
Dide in the dying slaughter of their foes,
Open your gates, and giue the Victors way.

Hubert. Heralds, from off our towres we might behold
From first to last, the on-set and retyre,
Of both your Armies, whole equality
By our best eyes cannot be confured: (blowes:
Blood hath bought blood, and blowes have anfwerd
Strength matcht with ſtrength, and power confronted
power,

Both are alike, and both alike we like:
One muſt prove greatest. While they weigh ſo euen,
We hold our Towne for neither : yet for both.

*Enter the two Kings with their powers,*
*at ſeverall doores.*

John. France, haſt thou yet more blood to caſt away?
Say, shall the currant of our right rome on,
Whose paſſage vext with thy impediment,
Shall leaue his native channell, and ore-ſwell
with course disturb'd euen thy confining ſhores,
Vnleſſe thou let his filuer Water, keepe
A peacefull progreſſe to the Ocean.

Fra. England thou haſt not ſau'd one drop of blood
In this hot triall more then we of France,
Rather loft more. And by this hand I ſware
That ſwayes the earth this Climate ouer-lookes,
Before we will lay downe our iuſt-borne Armes,
Wee'l put thee downe, gainſt whom theſe Armest wee
Or adde a royall number to the dead: (beare,
Gracing the ſcroule that tels of this warres loffe,
With ſlaughter coupled to the name of kings.)

Baſt. Ha Maiety: how high thy glory towres,
When the rich blood of kings is ſet on fire:
Oh now doth death line his dead chaps with ſteele,
The ſwords of ſouldiers are his teeth, his phangs,
And now he ſeafs, mouſing the fleſh of men
In vndetermin'd differences of kings.

Why stand these roiall fronts amazed thus:
Cry haucke kings, backe to the stained field
You equal Potents, fierie kindled spirits,
Then let confusion of one part confirm
The others peace: till then, blowes, blood, and death.

John. Whose party do the Towneſmen yet admitt?

Fra. Speake Citizens for England, whose your king.
Hub. The king of England, when we know the king
Fra. Know him in vs, that heere hold vp his right.
John. In Vs, that are our owne great Deputie,
And beare poſſession of our Perſon here,
Lord of our preſence Angiers, and of you.

Fra. A greater powre then We denies all this,
And till it be vnreveued, we do locke
Our former ſcruple in our strong barr'd gates:
Kings of our ſeare, vntill our ſeares reſolu'd
Be by ſome certaine king, purg'd and depos'd.

Baſt. By heauen, theſe ſcroyleſ of Angiers floue you
And stand securely on their battelments, (king,
As in a Theater, whence they gape and point
At your induſtrious ſcenes and acts of death.
Your Royall preſences be rul'd by mee,
Do like the Mutines of Ierusalem,
Be friends a-while, and both conioyntly bend
Your sharpeſt Deeds of malice on this Towne.
By Eaſt and Weſt let France and England mount.
Their battering Canon charged to the mouthes,
Till their ſoule-fearing clamours haue brau'd downe
The flintie ribbtes of this contemptuous Citie,
I'de play inſeantly vpon theſe Iades,
Euen till vnſenced defolation

Leaue them as naked as the vulgar ayre:
That done, diſſeuer your vnited ſtrengths,
And part your mingled colours once againe,
Turne 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 ſaunce the ſhall giue the day,
And kiffe him with a glorious victory:
How like you this wilde counſell mighty States,
Smackes it not ſomething of the policie.

John. Now by the sky that hangs aboue our heads,
I like it well. France, ſhall we knit our powres,
And lay this Angiers euen with the ground,
Then after fight who ſhall be king of it?

Baſt. And if thou haſt the mettle of a king,
Being wrong'd as we are by this peeuſh Towne:
Turne thou the mouth of thy Artillerie,
As we will ours, againſt theſe ſawcie walles,
And when that we haue daf'd them to the ground,
Why then deſe each other, and pell-mell,
Make worke vpon our ſelues, for heauen or hell.

Fra. Let it be so: ſay, where will you affaunce?

John. We from the Weſt will ſend deſtruction
Into this Cities boſome.

Ame. I from the North.

Fran. Our Thunder from the South,
Shall raine their drift of bullets on this Towne.

Baſt. O prudent diſcipline! From North to South
Auffria and France ſhoot in each others mouthes,
Ile ſtirre them to it: Come, away! away.

Hub. Hare vs great kings, vouchsafe a while to try
And I ſhall ſhow you peace, and faire ſac'd league:
Win you this Citie without ſtroke, or wound,
Rescue those breathing liues to dye in beds,
That heere come ſacrifices for the field.
Perſeuer not, but heare me mighty kings.

John. Speake on with ſaunce, we are bound to heare
Hub. That daughter there of Spaine, the Lady Blaue
Is neere to England, looke vpon the yeeres
Of Leves the Dolphin, and that louely maid,
If luſtie loue should go in quest of beautie,

Where

7

Where should he finde it fairer, then in *Blanch*:
If jealous loue should go in search of vertue,
Where should he finde it purer then in *Blanch*?
If love ambitions, sought a match of birth,
Whole veines bound richer blood then Lady *Blanch*?
Such as heis, in beautie, vertue, birth,
If the pong Dolphin every way compleat,
If not compleat of, say he is not *flee*,
And she againe wants nothing, to name want,
If want it not, that she is not *hee*:
If he the halfe part of a bleffed man,
Heis the halfe part of a bleffed man,
Left to be finishe d by such as *flee*,
And she a faire divided excellence,
Whole fulneſſe of perſection lyes in him,
O two inch filfer currents when they ioyne
To gloriſe the bankes that bound them in:
And two ſuch ſhores, to two ſuch ſtreames made one,
Two ſuch controlling bounds shall you be, kings,
To the two Princes, if you marrie them:
This Vofon shall do more then batterie can
To our ſaft cloſed gares: for at this match,
With ſwifter ſpleene then powder can enforce
The mouth of paffage shall we fling wide op,
And give you entrance: but without this match,
The leaenraged is not halfe ſo deafe,
Lyons more confident, Mountaines and rockes
More free from monion, no not death himſelfe
In mortal ſurie halfe ſo peremptorie,
As we to keepe this Citie.

*Blau*. Heeres a flay,

That shakes the rotten carkaffe of old death
Owes of his ragges. Here's a large mouth indeede,
That pits forth death, and mountaines,rockes, and leas,
Talkes as familiarly of roaring Lyons,
As maids of thirteenth do of puppi-dogges.
What Cannoneere begot this juſtie blood,
He speaks plaine Cannon fire, and ſmoake, and bounce,
He giues the baſtinado with his tongue:
Our eares are cudgel'd, not a word of his
But buſſes better then a fift of France:
Zounds, I was neuer so bethumpt with words,
Since I firſt cal'd my brothers father Dad.

*Old Qu.* Son, lift to this coniunction, make this match
Gue with our Neece a dowrie large enough,
For by this knot, thou ſhalt be ſurely tye
Thy now vnſur'd affurance to the Crowne,
That yon greene boy ſhall have no Sunne to ripe
The bloome that promifeth a mightie fruite.

I see a yielding in the lookes of France:

Mark how they whisper, vrge them while their ſoules
Are capable of this ambition,

Left zeale now melted by the windie breath

Off loſt petitions, pittie and remorſe,

Coole and congesle againe to what it was.

*Hob*. Why answer not the double Maieſtflies,

This friendly treate of our threatened Towne.

*Fra.* Speake England ſit ſt, that hath bin forward firſt
To speake vnto this Cittie: what ſay you?

*John*. If that the Dolphin there thy Princely ſonne,

Can in this booke of beautie read, I loue:

Her Dowrie ſhall weigh equall with a Queene:

For Angiers, and faire Toraine Masme, Poytiers,

And all that we vpon this ſide the Sea,

(Except this Cittie now by vs beſied'd)

The able to our Crowne and Dignitie,
Shall gild her bridall bed and make her rich

In titles, honors, and promotions,

As ſhe in beautie, education, blood,

Holdes hand with any Princeſſe of the world.

*Fra.* What ſaith thou boy? looke in the Ladies face,

*Dol.* I do my Lord, and in her eie I find

A wonder, or a wondrous miracle,

The ſhadow of my ſelfe form'd in her eye,

Which being but the ſhadow of your ſonne,

Becomes a ſonne and makes your ſonne a ſhadow:

I do proteſt I neuer lou'd my ſelfe

Till now, infixed I beheld my ſelfe,

Drawne in the flattering table of her eie.

*whispers with Blanch.*

*Bauſt.* Drawne in the flattering table of her eie,

Hang'd in the frowning wrinkle of her brow,

And quarter'd in her heart, hee doth eſpie

Himſelfe loues traytor, this is pittie now;

That hang'd, and drawne, and quarter'd there ſhould be

In ſuch a loue, so vile a Lout as he,

*Blau*. My vnnckles will in this respect is mine,

If he ſee ought in you that makes him like,

That any thing he ſee's which moues his liking,

I can with eafe tranſlate it to my will:

Or if you will, to ſpeake more properly,

I will enforce it eafe to my loue.

Further I will not flatter you, my Lord,

That all I ſee in you is worthie loue,

Then this, that nothing do I ſee in you,

Though churliſh thoughts themſelues ſhould bee your
Iudge,

That I can ſinde, ſhould merit any hate,

*John.* What ſaile theſe yong ones? What ſay you my
Neece?

*Blau*. That ſhe is bound in honor till to do

What you in wifedome (till vouchſaile to ſay)

*John.* Speake then Prince Dolphin, can you loue this
Ladie?

*Dol.* Nay aske me if I can refraine from loue,

For I doe loue her moſt vnſainedly.

*John.* Then do I giue Volqueſſen, Toraine, Maine,

Poytiers and Anion, theſe ſiue Prouinces

With her to thee, and this addition more,

Full thirty thouſand Markes of English coyne:

*Phillip of France, if thou be pleaſ withall,*

Command thy ſonne and daughtet to Ioyne hands.

*Fra.* It likes vs well young Princes: cloſe your hands

*Auſt.* And your lippes too, for I am well affur'd,

That I did ſo when I was firſt affur'd.

*Fra.* Now Citizens of Angires ope your gates,

Let in that amitie which you haue made,

For at Saint Maries Chappell preſently,

The rights of marriage ſhall be ſolemniz'd;

Is not the Ladie Conſtance in this trooper?

I know ſhe is not for this match made vp,

Her prefence would haue interrupted much.

Where is ſhe and her ſonne, tell me, who knowes?

*Dol.* She is ſad and paſſionate at your highnes Tent.

*Fra.* And by my faith, this league that we haue made

Will giue her ſadneſſe very little cure:

Brother of England, how may we content

This widow Lady? In her right we came,

Which we God knowes, haue turn'd another way,

To our owne vantage.

*John.* We will heale vp all,

For weel create yong Arthur Duke of Britaine

And Earle of Richmond, and this rich faire Towne

We

O 9

Atus Tertius, Scæna prima.

Enter King John, France, Dolphin, Blanch, Elianor, Philip,
Angus, Confiance.

Frae. Tis true (faire daughter) and this blessed day,
Enter in France (shall be kept fesituall:
To solemnize this day the glorious fire
To杀
Slay in his course, and playes the Alchymist,
Turning with (plendor of precious eye)
The meager cloddy earth to glittering gold:
The yearly course that brings this day about,
That shall never see it, but a holy day.

Conf. A wicked day, and not a holy day.

What hath this day deuer'd ? what bath it done,
That in golden letters should be set
Among the high rides in the Kalender ?
Nor, rather turne this day out of the wecke,
This day of shame, oppression, perjury.
Offence must stand still, let wiuues with childe
Pray that their burthens may not fall this day,
Left that their hopes prodigiously be croft :
But (on this day) let Sea-men feare no wracke,
Nobrigaines breake that are not this day made;
This day all things begun, come to ill end,
Yet, fill it selfe to hollow falfhood change.

Fra. By heauen Lady, you shall haue no cause
to curfe the faire proceedings of this day:
Hue not pawnd't let you my Maieſty?

Conf. You haue beguil'd me with a counterfeit
Redrebling Maieſty, which being touch'd and tride,
Proues valueleſſe: you are forſworne, forſworne,
You came in Armes to ſpill mine enemies bloud,
But now in Armes, you ſtrengthen it with yours.
The grapling vigor, and rough frowne of Warre
Is cold in amitie, and painted peace,
And our oppression hath made vp this league:
Arme, arme, you heauens, against theſe periur'd Kings,
A widdow cries, be husband to me (heauens)
Let not the howres of this vngodly day
Weare out the daies in Peace; but ere Sun-ſet,
Set armed diſcord 'twixt theſe periur'd Kings,
Heare me, Oh, heare me.

Anſi. Lady Conſance, peace.

Conf. War, war, no peace, peace is to me a warre:
OLymoges, O Anſtria, thou doſt ſhame
That bloddy ſpoyle: thou ſlaue, thou wretch, y'coward,
Thou little valiant, great in villanie,
Thou euert ſtrong upon the ſtronger ſide;
Thou Fortunes Champion, that doſt neuer fight
But when her humourous Ladiship is by
To reach theſe safety: thou art periur'd too,
And ſtook it vp greatneſſe. What a foole art thou,
A ramping foole, to brag, and ſtamp, and ſweare,
Upon my partie: thou cold blooded ſlaue,
Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my ſide?
Bene ſworne my Souldier, bidding me depend
Upon thy flatres, thy fortune, and thy ſtrength,
And doth thou now fall ouer to my foes?

Thou weare a Lyons hide, doſſ it for ſhame,
And hang a Calues skin on those recreant limbs.
Anſi. O that a man should ſpeake those words to me.
Phil. And hang a Calues-skin on those recreant limbs
Anſi. Thou dar't not ſay so villaine for thy life.

Phil. And hang a Calues-skin on those recreant limbs.

John. We like not this, thou doſt forget thy ſelfe.

Enter Pandulph.
Fra. Here comes the holy Legat of the Pope.

Pan. Haile you annointed deputies of heauens
To thee King John my holy ertand is:
I Pandulph, of faire Adilane Cardinall,
And from Pope Innocent the Legate heere,
Doe in his name religiously demand

Why thou against the Church, our holy Mother
So wilfully doſt spurne; and force perſorce
Keepe Stephen Langton choſen Arſhbiſhop
Of Canterbury from that holy Sea
This in our forefaid holy Fathers name
Pope Innocent, I doe demand of thee.

John. What earthie name to Interrogatories.
Can taſt the free breath of a ſacred King?
Thou canſt not (Cardinall) deuife a name
So flight, vnworthy, and ridiculous.
To charge me to an anſwere, as the Pope:
Tell him this tale, and from the mouth of England,
Adde thus much more, that no Italian Priſt

Shall tythe or toll in our dominions:
But as we, vnder heauen, are ſupreame head,
So vnder him that great ſupremacy
Where we doe reigne, we will alone vphold
Without the affiſtance of a mortall hand:
So tell the Pope, all reuerence ſet apart
to him and his ſurp'd authoritie.

Fra. Brother of England, you blaſpeme in this.

John. Though you, and all the Kings of Christendom
Are led ſo groſſely by this medling Priſt,
Dreading the curſe that money may buy out,
And by the merit of vilde gold, droſſe, duſt,
Purchase corrupted pardon of a man,

Who in that ſale ſels pardon from himſelfe:
Though you, and al the reſt ſo groſſely led,
This iugling witchcraft with reuennue cheriſh,
Yet I alone, alone doe me oppoſe

Against the Pope, and count his friends my foes.

Pand. Then by the lawfull power that I haue,
Thou ſhalt stand curſt, and excommunicate,
And bleſſed shall he be that doth reuolt
From his Allegiance to an heretique,
And meritorious ſhall that hand be call'd,
Canonized and worſhip'd as a Saint,
That takes away by any ſecret course
Thy hatefull life.

Con. O lawfull let it be
That I haue roome with Rome to curſe a while,

Good Father Cardinall, cry thou Amen
To my keene curſes; for without my wrong

There is no tongue hath power to curſe him right.

Pan. There's Law and Warrant (Lady) for my curſe.

Conf. And for mine too, when Law can do no right.

Let it be lawfull, that Law barre no wrong:
Law cannot giue my childe his kingdome heere;

For he that holds his Kingdome, holds the Law:
Therefore ſince Law it ſelfe is perfect wrong,
How can the Law forbid my tongue to curſe it?

Pand. Philip of France, on perill of a curſe,
Let goe the hand of that Arch-heretique,
And raſe the power of France vpon his head,
Vneſſe he doe ſubinit himſelfe to Rome.

Elea. Look'ft thou pale France? do not let go thy hand.

Con. Looke to that Deuill, left that France repent,

And

["The life and death of King John.", "10", "And by disloying hands hell lofe a foule.", "Auſt. King Philip, listen to the Cardinal.\nBaſt. And hang a Calues-skin on his recreant limbs.\nAuſt. Well, man, I muſt pocket vp theſe wrongs,", "Because, and to the honour of my King.", "Baſt. Your breeches best may carry them.", "John. Philip, what faith thou to the Cardinal?", "Con. What should he ſay, but as the Cardinal?", "Dolph. Bethinke you father, for the difference", "Is purchase of a heavy curſe from Rome.", "Or the light louſe of England, for a friend:", "Forgoe the caſer, and the curſe.", "Bla. That's the curſe of Rome.", "Con. O Lewis, stand falſh, the deuill tempts thee here", "In likeneſſe of a new vntrimmed Bride.", "Bla. The Lady Conſtance speaks not from her faith,\nBut from her need, and from her beauty.", "Con. Oh, if thou grant my need,", "Which only liues but by the death of faith,", "That need, muſt needs inferre this principle,", "That faith would liue againe by death of need.", "O then tread downe my need, and faith mounts vp.", "Keepe my need vp, and faith is trodden downe.", "John. The king is moud, and anſwers not to this.", "Con. O be remou'd from him, and anſore well.", "Auſt. Doe so king Philip, hang no more in doubt.", "Baſt. Hang nothing but a Calues skin moſt sweet loue.", "Fra. I am perplex'd, and know not what to ſay.", "Pan. What canſt thou ſay, but wil perplex thee more?\nIf thou stand excommunicate, and curſe?", "Fra. Good reuerend father, make my perſon yours,\nAnd tell me how you would beſtow your ſelfe?", "This royall hand, and mine are newly knit,", "And the coniunction of our inward ſoules", "Married in league, coupled, and link'd together", "With all religious ſtrength of ſacred vowes,", "The laſt breath that gaue the ſound of words", "Was deepe ſworne faith, peace, amity, true loue", "Betweene our king domes and our royall ſelues,", "And euen before this truce, but new before,", "No longer then we well could wash our hands,", "To clap this royall bargaine vp of peace,", "Heauen knowes they were beſmeard and ouer-stained", "With ſlaughters pencil; where reuenge did paint", "The fearefull difference of incensed kings :", "And ſhall theſe hands ſo lately purg'd of blood?", "So newly ioyn'd in loue ? ſo ſtrong in both,", "Vnyoke this ſeyſure, and this kinde regreete ?", "Play ſaſt and looſe with faith ? ſo ieſt with heauen,", "Make ſuch vnconſtant children of our ſelues", "As now againe to ſnatch our palme from palme:", "Vnſwear e faith ſworne, and on the marriage bed", "Off smiling peace to march a bloody hoaſt,", "And make a ryot on the gentle brow", "Of true ſincerity ? O holy Sir", "My reuerend father, let it not be so ;", "Out of your grace, deuife, ordaine, impoſe", "Some gentle order, and then we shall be bleſt", "To doe your pleasure, and continue friends.", "Pand. All forme is ſormeſſe, Order orderleſſe,\nSau what is oppoſite to Englands loue.", "Therefore to Armes, be Champion of our Church,\nOr let the Church our mother breathe her curſe,\nA mothers curſe, on her reuolting ſonne:", "France, thou maſt hold a ſerpent by the tongue,", "A caſed Lion by the mortall paw,", "A ſaſting Tyger ſaſer by the tooth,", "Then keepe in peace that hand which thou doſt hold.", "Fra. I may diſioyne my hand, but not my faith.", "Pand. So mak't thou faith an enemy to faith.", "And like a ciuill warre ſerſt oath to oath,", "Thy tongue againſt thy tongue. O let thy vow", "First made to heauen, first be to heauen perform'd.", "That is, to be the Champion of our Church?", "What ſince thou ſworſt, is ſworne againſt thy ſelſe,", "And may not be performed by thy ſelſe,", "For that which thou haſt ſworne to doe amſiſt,", "Is not amſiſt when it is truly done :", "And being not done, where doing tends to ills,", "The truth is then moſt done not doing it:", "The better Act of purpòses miſtooke,", "Is to miſtake again, though indirect,", "Yet indirect ion thereby growes direct,", "And ſalfhood, ſalfhood cures, as fire cooles fire", "Within the ſcorched veines of one new burn'd:", "It is religion that doth make vowes kept,", "But thou haſt ſworne againſt religion:", "By what thou ſwear't againſt the thing thou ſwear'st,", "And mak't an oath the ſuretie for thy truth,", "Againſt an oath the truth, thou art vnſure", "To ſwear e, ſweares only not to be forſworne,", "Elſe what a mockerie ſhould it be to ſwear e?", "But thou doſt ſwear e, only to be forſworne,", "And moſt forſworne, to keepe what thou doſt ſwear,", "Therefore thy later vowes, againſt thy first,", "Is in thy ſelſe rebellion to thy ſelſe :", "And better conſeque neuer canſt thou make,", "Then arme the conſant and thy nobler parts", "Againſt theſe giddy loue ſuggeſtions:", "Vpon which better part, our prayrs come in,", "If thou vouchſaſe them. But if not, then know", "The perill of our curſes light on thee", "So heavy, as thou ſhalt not ſake them off", "But in deſpaire, dye vnder their blacke weight.", "Auſt. Rebellions, ſtar rebellion.", "Baſt. Will not be ?", "Will not a Calues-skin ſlop that mouth of chine?", "Daul. Father, to Armes.", "Blanch. Vpon thy wedding day?", "Againſt the blood that thou haſt married?", "What, shall our ſeafe be kept with ſlaughtered men?", "Shall braying trumpets, and loud churlihl drums", "Clamors of hell, be meaſures to our pomp?", "O husband heare me: aye, alacke, how new", "Is husband in my mouth ? euen for that name", "Which till this time my tongue did nere pronuncie", "Vpon my knee I beg, goe not to Armes", "Againſt mine Vncle.", "Conſt. O, vpon my knee made hard with kneeling,\nI doe pray to thee, thou vertuous Daulphin,\nAlter nor the doome fore-thought by heauen.", "Blan. Now ſhall I fee thy loue, what motive may\nBe ſtronger with thee, then the name of wife?", "Con. That which vpholdeth him, that thee vphold,\nHis Honor, Oh thine Honor, Lewis thine Honor,\nDolph. I mufe your Maiesty doth ſeeme so cold,", "When ſuch profound ſ respects doe pull you on?", "Pand. I will denounce a curſe vpon his head.", "Fra. Thou ſhalt not need. England,

11

Bauf. Old Time the clocke fetter, y bald Sexton Time:
It is as he will? well then, France shall rue.
Blas. The Sun's orcaſe with bloud: faireiday adieu,

Which is the ſide that I muſt goe withall ?
I am with both, each Army hath a hand,

And in their rage, I hauing hold of both,
They whurle a-lunder, and diſmember mee.

They whurle a-lunder, and diſmember mee.
Husband, I cannot: pray that thou maſt winne :

Vacle, I needs muſt pray that thou maſt loſe:
Father, I may not with the fortune thine :

Father, I will not with thy wishes thrue :
Grandam, I will not with thy wishes thrue :

Who-euer wins, on that ſide I shall I loſe :
Allured loſe, before the match be plaid.

Allured loſe, before the match be plaid.
Dolph. Lady, with me, with me thy fortune lies.

Dolph. Lady, with me, with me thy fortune lies.
Blas. There where my fortune liues, there my life dies.

Blas. There where my fortune liues, there my life dies.
Iohn. Cofen, goe draw our puſance together,

France, I am burn'd vp with inflaming wrath,

France, I am burn'd vp with inflaming wrath,
A rage, whole heat hath this condition;

A rage, whole heat hath this condition;
That nothing can allay, nothing but blood,

That nothing can allay, nothing but blood,
The blood and deereſt valued bloud of France.

The blood and deereſt valued bloud of France.
Fra. Thy rage shall burne thee vp, & thou ſhalt turne
Toashes, ere our blood ſhall quench that fire:
Looke to thy ſelſe, thou art in ieopardie.

To arms! No more then he that threats. To Arms let's hie.

Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Allarum, Excursions: Enter Baſtard with Austria's
bead.

Bauf. Now by my life, this day grows wondrous hot,
Some aery Denill houers in the skie,

And pou'r's downe miſchchieſe. Auftrias head lye there,
Enter John, Arthur, Hubert. *

While Philip breathes.

Iohn. Hubert, keepe this boy: Philip make vp,
My Mother is affayled in our Tent,
And tane I feare.

Bauf. My Lord I rescued her,

Her Highneſſe is in safety, feare you not:

But on my Liege, for very little paines
Will bring this labor to an happy end.

Exit.

Alarum, excursions, Retreat. Enter John, Eleanor, Arthur
Baſtard, Hubert, Lords.

Iohn. So shall it be: your Grace shall ſtay behinde
So strongly guarded: Cofen, looke not ſad,
Thy Grandame loues thee, and thy Vnkle will
As deere be to thee, as thy father was.

Arbi. O this will make my mother die with griefe.

Iohn. Cofen away for England, haſte before,
And ere our comming fee thou ſake the bags
Of hoording Abbots, imprifoned angells

Serat libertie: the fat ribs of peace

Murby the hungry now be fed upon :
Vour Commiſſion in his vmoſt force.

Bauf. Bell, Booke, & Candle, shall not drive me back,
When gold and filuer becks me to come on.

Ileau your highneſſe: Grandame, I will pray,
(If euer I remember to be holy)

For your faire ſafetie: to I kiffe your hand.

Ele. Farewell gentle Cofen.

Iohn. Coz, farewell.

Ele. Come hether little kinfman, harke, a worde.

Iohn. Come hether Hubert. O my gentle Hubert,
We owe thee much: within this wall of flesh

There is a foule counts thee her Creditor,

And with aduantage meanes to pay thy loue:

And my good friend, thy voluntary oath
Liues in this boſome, deerely cheriſed.

Gie me thy hand, I had a thing to ſay,

But I will fit it with ſome better tune.

By heauen Hubert, I am almost aſham'd

To ſay what good reſpect I haue of thee.

Hub. I am much bounden to your Maiety.

Iohn. Good friend, thou haſt no cauſe to ſay so yet,
But thou ſhalt haue: and creepe time nere so flow,
Yet it shall come, for me to doe thee good.

I had a thing to ſay, but let it goe :

The Sunne is in the heauen, and the proud day,

Attended with the pleafures of the world,

Is all too wanton, and too full of gawdes

To giue me audience: If the mid-night bell

Did with his yron tongue, and brazen mouth

Sound on into the drowzie race of night :

If this fame were a Church-yard where we stand,

And thou poſſed with a thouſand wrongs :

Or if that furly ſpirit melancholy

Had bak'd thy bloud, and made it heavy, thickc,

Which eſſe runnes tickling vp and downe the veines,

Making that idiot laughter keepe mens eyes'

And ſtraine their cheekes to idle merriment,

A paſſion hatefull to my purpoſes:

Or if that thou couldſt fee me without eyes,

Heare me without thine eares, and make reply

Without a tongue, vſing conceit alone,

Without eyes, eares, and harmeſull found of words:

Then, in deſpight of brooded watchfull day,

I would into thy boſome poure my thoughts:

But (ah) I will not, yet I loue thee well,

And by my troth I thinke thou louſt me well.

Hub. So well, that what you bid me vndertake,

Though that my death were aduaint to my Act,

By heauen I would doe it.

Iohn. Doe not I know thou wouldſt?

Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert throw thine eye

On yon young boy: Ile tell thee what my friend,

He is a very serpent in my way,

And wherefore this foot of mine doth tread,

He lies before me: doſt thou vnderstand me?

Thou art his keeper,

Hub. And Ile keepe him so,

That he shall not offend your Maiety.

Iohn. Death.

Hub. My Lord.

Iohn. A Graue.

Hub. He shall not lue.

Iohn. Enough.

I could be merry now, Hubert, I loue thee:

Well, Ile not ſay what I intend for thee:

Remember: Madam, Fare you well,

Ile ſend thofe powers o're to your Maiety.

Ele. My bleſſing goe with thee.

Iohn. For England Cofen, goe.

Hubert shall be your man, attend on you

With al true duetic: On toward Callice, hoo.

Exeunt.

Scena

12

## Scena Tertia.

Euter France, Dolphin, Pandulpho, Attendants.

**Fra.** So by a roaring Tempeſt on the flood,
A whole Armado of conuicted ſaile
Is scattered and diſ-ioyn'd from fellowſhip.
**Pand.** Courage and comfort, all ſhall yet goe well.
**Fra.** What can goe well, when we haue runne ſo ill?
Are we not beaten ? Is not Angiers loſt?
**Arthur** tane prifoner? diuers deere friends ſlaine?
And bloudy England into England gone,
Ore-bearing interruption ſpight of France?
**Dol.** What he hath won, that hath he ſonſtified;
So hot a ſpeed, with ſuch aduice diſpoſ'd,
Such temperate order in ſo ſierce a cauſe,
Doth want example: who hath read, or heard
Of any kindred-aſtion like to this?

**Fra.** Well could I beare that England had this praisè,
So we could finde ſome patterne of our ſhame:
**Enter Conſtance.**

Looke who comes heere ? a graue vnto a ſoule,
Holding th'eternall ſpirit againſt her will,
In the vilde prifon of afflicted breath :
I prethee Lady goe away with me.

**Con.** Lo; now: now fee the ilſue of your peace.

**Fra.** Patience good Lady, comfort gentle Conſtance.

**Con.** No, I define all Counſell, all redreſſe.

But that which ends all counſell, true Redreſſe:
Death, death, O amiable, louely death,
Thou odoriferous ſench: found rottenneſſe,
Arife forth from the couch of laſting night,
Thou hate and terror to prosperitie,
And I will kiffle thy deteſtable bones,
And put my eye-balls in thy vaultie browes,
And ring theſe fingers with thy houſhold wormes,
And ſtop this gap of breath with fullome duſt,
And be a Carrion Monſter like thy ſelfe;
Come, gfin on me, and I will thinke thou ſinil ſt,
And buffe thee as thy wife: Miferies Loue,
O come to me.

**Fra.** O faire affliction, peace.

**Con.** No, no, I will not, hauing breath to cry:
O that my tongue were in the thunders mouth,
Then with a paffion would I shake the world,
And rowze from sleepe that fell Anatomy
Which cannot heare a Ladies feeble voyce,
Which ſcornes a moderne Inuocation.

**Pand.** Lady, you vutter madneſſe, and not ſorrow.

**Con.** Thou art holy to belye me ſo,
I am not mad: this haire I teare is mine,
My name is Conſtance, I was Geſſreyes wife,
Yong Arthur is my ſonne, and he is loſt;
I am not mad, I would to heauen I were,
For then 'tis like I should forget my ſelfe:
O, if I could, what grieſe should I forget ?
Preach ſome Philosophy to make me mad,
And thou ſhalt be Canoniz'd (Cardinall.)

For, being not mad, but ſenſible of greeſe,
My reaſonable part produces reaſon.

How I may be deliuer'd of theſe woes,

And teaches mee to kill or hang my ſelfe:

If I were mad, I should forget my ſonne,

Or madly thinke a babe of clowts were he;
I am not mad: too well, too well I feele
The different plague of each calamitie.

**Fra.** Binde vp those treſſes: O what loue I note
In the faire multitude of those her haires;
Where but a chance of filuer drop hath falne,
Euen to that drop ten thouſand wiery fiends
Doe glew themſelues in ſociable grieſe,
Like true, inſeparable, faithfull loues,
Sticking together in calamitie.

**Con.** To England, if you will.

**Fra.** Binde vp your haires.

**Con.** Yes that I will: and wherefore will I do it?
I tore them from their bonds, and cride aloud,
O, that theſe hands could ſo redeeme my ſonne,
As they haue giuen theſe hayres their libertie:
But now I enuie at their libertie,

And will againe commit them to their bonds,
Because my poore childe is a prifoner.
And Father Cardinall, I haue heard you ſay
That we ſhall fee and know our friends in heauen:
If that be true, I ſhall fee my boy againe;
For ſince the birth of Caine, the first male-childe
To him that did but yeſterday ſupſire,
There was not ſuch a gracious creature borne:
But now will Canker-forrow eat my bud,
And chafe the natüe beauty from his cheeke,
And he will looke as hollow as a Ghoſt,
As dim and meager as an Agues ſitte,

And so he'll dye: and rising ſo againe,
When I haue meet him in the Court of heauen
I ſhall not know him: therefore neuer, neuer
Muſt I behold my pretty Arthur more.

**Pand.** You hold too heynous a reſpect of greeſe.
**Conſ.** He talks to me, that neuer had a ſonne.
**Fra.** You are as ſond of greeſe, as of your childe.
**Con.** Greeſe filſes the roome vp of my abſent childe:
Lies in his bed, walkes vp and downe with me,
Pats on his pretty lookes, repeats his words,
Remembets me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffes out his vacant garments with his ſorme;
Then, haue I reaſon to be ſond of grieſe?

Fareyouwell: had you ſuch a lofſe as I,
I could giue better comfort then you doc,
I will not keepe this ſorme vpon my head,
When there is ſuch diſorder in my witte :

O Lord, my boy, my Arthur, my faire ſonne,
My life, my ioy, my food, my all the world:
My widow-comfort, and my ſorrowes cure.

**Fra.** I ſeare ſome out-rage, and Ile follow her. Exit.
**Dol.** There's nothing in this world can make me ioy.
Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,
Vexing the dull eare of a drowſe man;
And bitter ſhame hath ſpoyl'd the ſweet words taſe,
That it yeelds nought but ſhame and bitterneſſe.

**Pand.** Before the curing of a strong diſeafe,
Euen in the inſant of repaire and health,
The fit is ſtrongerſt: Euiſs that take leaue
On their departure, moſt of all ſhow euill:
What haue you loſt by loſing of this day?

**Dol.** All daies of glory, ioy, and happineſſe.
**Pan.** If you had won it, certainly you had.
**No, no:** when Fortune meanes to men moſt good,
Shee lookes vpon them with a threatening eye:
Tis ſtrange to thinke how much King John hath loſt
In this which he accounts so clearly wonne:

13

Are not you grien'd that Arthur is his prisoner ?

Del. As heartily as he is glad he hath him.

Pan. Your minde is all as youthfull as your blood.

Now heare me speake with a propheticke spirit:

For euen the breath of what I meane to speake,

Shall blow each duft, each straw, each little rub

Out of the path which shall directly lead

Thy foote to Englands Thronne. And therefore marke:

John hath feiz'd Arthur, and it cannot be,

That whiles warme life playes in that infants veines,

The mis-plac'd John should entertaine an hour,

One minute, may one quiet breath of rest.

A Scepter snatch'd with an vnruly hand,

Muft be as boyferouly maintain'd as gain'd.

And he that stands upon a flipp'ry place,

Makes nice of no vilde hold to stay him vp:

That John may stand, then Arthur needs muft fall,

So beit, for it cannot be but so.

Del. But what shall I gaine by yong Arthur fall ?

Pan. You, in the right of Lady Blanch your wife,

May then make all the claime that Arthur did.

Del. And loose it, life and all, as Arthur did.

Pan. How green you are, and fresh in this old world?

John layes you plots: the times confpare with you,

For he that fteepes his faſetie in true blood,

Shall finde but bloodie safety, and vittrue.

This Acte equally borne shall coole the hearts

Of all his people, and freeze vp their zeale,

That none fo small aduantage shall ftop forth

To checke his reigne, but they will cherifh it.

Non naturall exhalation in the skie,

No ſcope of Nature, no diftemper'd day,

No common winde, no customed euent,

But they will plucke away his naturall caufe,

And call them Meteors, prodigies, and fignes,

Abottines, prefages, and tongues of heaven,

Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John.

Del. May be he will not touch yong Arthur's life,

But hold himſelfe ſafe in his prifonment.

Pan. O Sir, when he shall heare of your approach,

If that yong Arthur be not gone already,

Even at that newes he dies: and then the hearts

Of all his people shall reuolt from him,

And kiffe the lippes of vnacquainted change,

And picke strong matter of reuolt, and wrath

Out of the bloody fingers ends of John.

Me thinkes I fee this hurley all on foot ;

And O, what better matter breeds for you,

Then I haue nam'd. The Baſtard Falconbridge

Is now in England ransacking the Church,

Offending Charity: If but a dozen French

Were there in Armes, they would be as a Call

To traine ten thoufand English to their fide;

Or, as a little snow, tumbled about,

Anon becomes a Mountaine. O noble Dolphine,

Go with me to the King, 'tis wonderfull,

What may be wrought out of their discontent,

Now that their foules are topfull of offence,

For England go; I will whet on the King.

Del. Strong reaſons makes ſtrange actions: let vs go,

If you fay I, the King will not ſay no.

Exequat.

Actus Quartus, Scæna prima.

Enter Hubert and Executioners.

Hub. Heate me theſe Irons hot, and looke thou fland

Within the Arras : when I ſtrike my foot

Pon the boſome of the ground, rufh forth

And binde the boy, which you ſhall finde with me

Aft to the chaire: be heedeſull: hence, and watch.

Exec. I hope your warrant will beare out the deed.

Hub. Vncleanly ſeruples ſeare not you: looke too't.

Yong Lad come forth; I haue to ſay with you.

Enter Arthur.

Ar. Good morrow Hubert.

Hub. Good morrow, little Prince.

Ar. As little Prince, hauing ſo great a Title

To be more Prince, as may be : you are ſad.

Hub. Indeed I haue beene merrier.

Art. 'Mercie on me:

Me thinkes no body ſhould be ſad but I:

Yet I remember, when I was in France,

Young Gentlemen would be as ſad as night

Onely for wantonneſſe : by my Chrif tendome,

So I were out of prifon, and kept Sheepe

I should be as merry as the day is long:

And so I would be heere, but that I doubt

My Vnckle practifes more harme to me :

He is affraid of me, and I of him :

Is it my fault, that I was Geſſreyes ſonne ?

No in deede is't not : and I would to heauen

I were your ſonne, ſo you would loue me, Hubert:

Hub. If I ſtalke to him, with his innocent prate

He will awake my mercie, which lies dead :

Therefore I will be ſodaine, and disſpatch.

Ar. Are you ſicke Hubert? you looke pale to day,

Inſooth I would you were a little ſicke,

That I might fit all night, and watch with you.

I warrant I loue you more then you do me.

Hub. His words do take poffeffion of my boſome.

Reade here reyng Arthur. How now fooliſh rheume?

Turning diſpitious torture out of doore?

I muſt be breeſe, leaſt reſolution drop

Out at mine eyes, in tender womaniſh teares.

Can you not reade it? Is it not faire writ?

Ar. Too fairely Hubert, for ſo ſoule effect,

Muſt you with hot Irons, burne out both mine eyes?

Hub. Yong Boy, I muſt.

Art. And will you?

Hub. And I will.

Art. Haue you the heart ? When your head did but
ake,

I knit my hand-kercher about your browes

(The beit I had, a Princeſſe wrought it me.)

And I did neuer aske it you againe :

And with my hand, at midnight held your head;

And like the watchfull minutes, to the houre,

Still and anou cheer'd vp the heavy time;

Saying, what lacke you? and where lies your greeſe?

Or what good loue may I performe for you?

Many a poore mans ſonne would haue Iyen fill,

And nere haue ſpoke a louing word to you:

But you, at your ſicke ſeruice had a Prince:

Nay, you may thinke my loue was craftie loue,

And call it cunning. Do, and if you will,

b

If

14

If heauen be pleas'd that you muft vse me ill,
Why then you muft. Will you put out mine eyes?
These eyes, that neuer did, nor neuer shall
So much as frowne on you.

Hub. I haue ſworn to do it:

And with hot Irons muſt I burne them out.

Ar. Ah, none but in this Iron Age, would do it:

The Iron of it ſelfe, though heate red hot,
Approaching neere these eyes, would drinke my teares,
And quench this fierie indignation,
Euen in the matter of mine innocence:

Nay, after that, confume away in ruſt,
But for containing fire to harme mine eye:
Are you more flubborne hard, then hammer'd Iron?
And if an Angell should haue come to me,
And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes,
I would not haue beleeu'd him: no tongue but Huberts.

Hub. Come forth: Do as I bid you do.

Art. O ſaue me Hubert, ſaue me: my eyes are out
Euen with the fierce lookes of theſe bloody men.

Hub. Giue me the Iron I ſay, and binde him heere.

Art. Alas, what neede you be so beiftrons rough?

I will not ſtruggle, I will ſtand, ſtand ſtill:
For heauen ſake Hubert let me not be bound:
Nay heare me Hubert, drive theſe men away,
And I will fit as quiet as a Lambe.
I will not ſtirre, nor winch, nor ſpeake a word,
Nor looke vpon the Iron angerly:
Thrust but the men away, and Ile forgiue you,
What euer torment you do put me too.

Hub. Go ſtand within: let me alone with him.

Exec. I am beſt pleas'd, to be from ſuch a decede.

Art. Alas, I then haue chid away my friend,

He hath a ſterne looke, but a gentle heart:
Let him come backe, that his compaffion may
Giue life to yours.

Hub. Come (Boy) prepare your ſelfe.

Art. Is there no remedie?

Hub. None, but to lobe your eyes.

Art. O heauen: that there were but a moth in yours,
A graine, a duſt, a gnat, a wandering haire,
Any annoyance in that precious ſenſe:
Then feeling what ſmall things are boyſterous there,
Your vilde intent muſt needs ſeeme horrible.

Hub. Is this your promife? Go too, hold your toong

Art. Hubert, the vitterance of a brace of tongues,
Muſt needes want pleading for a paire of eyes:

Let me not hold my tongue: let me not Hubert,
Or Hubert, if you will cut out my tongue;

So I may keepe mine eyes. O ſpare mine eyes,

Though to no vſe, but ſill to looke on you.
Loe, by my troth, the Inſtrument is cold,

And would not harme me.

Hub. I can heate it, Boy.

Art. No, in good ſooth: the fire is dead with griefe,
Being create for comfort, to be vs'd

In vndeſerued extreames: See eſſe your ſelfe,
There is no malice in this burning cole,

The breath of heauen, hath blowne his ſpirit out,
And fire'd repentant aſhes on his head.

Hub. But with my breach I can reuie it Boy.

Art. And 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 dogge that is compell'd to fight,

Snatch at his Maſter that doth tarre him on.

All things that you should vſe to do me wrong
Deny their office: onely you do lacke
That mercie, which fierce fire, and Iron extends,
Creatures of note for mercy, lacking vſes.

Hub. Well, ſee to liue: I will not touch thine eye,
For all the Treasure that thine Vnkleck owes,
Yet am I ſworne, and I did purpofe, Boy,
With this fame very Iron, to burne them out.

Art. O now you looke like Hubert. All this while
You were diſguis'd.

Hub. Peace: no more. Adieu,
Your Vnkleck muſt not know but you are dead,
Ile fill theſe dogged Spies with ſalſe reports:
And, pretty childe, ſleepe doubtleſe, and ſecure,
That Hubert for the wealth of all the world,
Will not offend thee.

Art. O heauen ! I thanke you Hubert.

Hub. Silence, no more; go cloſely in with mee,
Much danger do I undergo for theſe.

Exeunt

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Iohn, Pembroke, Salisbury, and other Lords.

Iohn. Heere once againe we fit : once against crowne
And look'd vpon, I hope, with chearefull eyes.

Pem. This once again (but that your Highnes pleat)
Was once ſuperfluous : you were Crown'd before,
And that high Royalty was nere pluck'd off:
The faiths of men, nere ſtained with reuolt:
Fresh expectation troubled not the Land
With any long'd-for-change, or better State.

Sal. Therefore, to be poffeſ'd with double pompe,
To guard a Title, that was rich before;
To gilde refined Gold, to paint the Lilly;
To throw a perfume on the Violet,
To ſmooth the yce, or adde another hew
Vnto the Raine-bow; or with Taper-light
To ſeeke the beauteous eye of heauen to garnish,
Is waſtefull, and ridiculous exceſſe.

Pem. But that your Royall pleſure muſt be done,
This aſſte, is as an ancient tale new told,
And, in the laſt repeating, troublesome,
Being vrged at a time vnfeasonable.

Sal. In this the Anticke, and well noted face
Of plaine old forme, is much disfigured,
And like a ſhifred winde vnto a ſaile,
It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about,
Startles, and frights consideration:
Makes found opinion ſicke, and truth ſuſpected,
For putting on ſo new a ſaſhion'd robe.

Pem. When Workemen ſtrie to do better then we,
They do confound their skill in couetouſneſſe,
And oftentimes excufing of a ſault,
Doth make the fault the worse by th'excufe:
As patches ſet vpon a little breach,
Difcredite more in hiding of the ſault,
Then did the fault before it was ſo patch'd.

Sal. To this effect, before you were new crown'd
We breath'd our Councell: but it pleas'd your Highneſſe
To ouer-beare it, and we are all well pleas'd,
Since all, and euery part of what we would
Doth make a ſtand, at what your Highneſſe will.

John.

15

Iob. Some reasons of this double Coronation
I have poffeſt you with, and thinke them strong.
And more, more ſtrong, then leſter is my ſeaſe.
I ſhall induc you with : Meane time, but aske
What you would haue reform'd, that is not well,
And well ſhall you perceiue, how willingly
I will both heare, and grant you your requeſts.

Pem. Then I, as one that am the tongue of theſe
To found the purpofes of all their hearts,
Both for my ſelſe, and them : but chieſe of all
Your ſafetie : for the which, my ſelſe and them
Bend their beſt ſtudies, heartily requeſt
Th' infranchiſement of *Arthur*, whole reſtraint
Doth moue the murmuring lips of diſcontent
To breake into this dangerous argument.
If what in reſt you haue, in right you hold,
Why then your ſeares, which (as they ſay) attend
The ſteppes of wrong, ſhould moue you to mew vp
Your tender kinfman, and to choake his dayes
With barbarous ignorance, and deny his youth
The rich aduantage of good exerciſe,
That the times enemies may not haue this
To grace occaſions : let it be our ſuite,
That you haue bid vs aske his libertie,
Which for our goods, we do no further aske,
Then, whereupon our weale on you depending,
Counts it your weale : he haue his libertie.

*Enter Hubert.*

Ioh. Let it be ſo : I do commit his youth

To your direction : Hubert, what newes you have ?

Pem. This is the man ſhould do the bloody deed :
He ſhew'd his warrant to a friend of mine,
The image of a wicked heynous fault
Lies in his eye : that cloſe aſpect of his,
Do ſhow the mood of any troubled breſt,
And I do fearfully beleee'tis done,
What we ſo fear'd he had a charge to do.

Sal. The colour of the King doth come, and go
Betweene his purpofe and his confiſcience,
Like Herald's twixt two dreadfull battailles ſet :
His paſſion is ſo ripe, it needs muſt breake.

Pem. And when it breaks, I haue ſwill ſuffe thence
The ſoule corruption of a ſweet childeſs death.

Ioh. We cannot hold mortalities ſtrong hand.
Good Lords, although my will to giue, is liuing,
The ſuite which you demand is gone, and dead.
His telſs vs *Arthur* is deceaſ'd to night.

Sal. Indeed we fear'd his ſickneſſ was paſt cure.

Pem. Indeed we heard how neere his death he was,
Before the childe himſelfe felt he was ſicke :
This muſt be anſwer'd either heere, or hence.

Ioh. Why do you bend ſuch ſolemne browes on me?
Thinke you I beare the Sheeres of deſtiny ?
Hauſe I commandement on the pulſe of life?

Sal. It is apparant ſoule-play, and'tis ſhame
That Greatneſſe should ſo groſſely offer it ;
So thiurne it in your game, and ſo farewell.

Pem. Stay yet (Lord Salisbury) Ile go with thee,
And finde th'inheritance of this poore childe,
His little kingdome of a forced graue.

That blood which ow'd the breath of all this Ile,
Three foot of it doth hold; bad world the while :
This muſt not be thus borne, this will breake out

To all our forrowes, and ere long I doubt.
Ioh. They burn in indignation : I repent :

There is no ſure foundation ſet on blood :

No certaine life atchieu'd by others death :
A ſearefull eye thou haſt. Where is that blood,
That I haue ſeene inhabite in those cheekes ?

So ſoule a skie, cleeres not without a ſtorme,
Poure downe thy weather : how goes all in France?

Mef. From France to England, neuer ſuch a powre.
For any forſaigne preparation,

Was leuied in the body of a land.

The Copie of your ſpide is learn'd by them:
For when you ſhould be told they do prepare,
The tydings comes, that they are all arriu'd.

Ioh. On where hath our Intelligence bin drunke?
Where hath it flept? Where is my Mothers care?

That ſuch an Army could be drawne in France,
And ſhe not heare of it ?

Mef. My Liege, her care.

Is ſtopp with duſt : the firſt of Aprill di'd
Your noble mother; and as I heare, my Lord.

The Lady Conſiance in a frenzie di'd

Three dayes before : but this from Rumors tongue
I idely heard : if true, or false I know not.

Iohu. With-hold thy ſpeed, dreadfull Occaſion :
O make a league with me, 'till I haue pleas'd
My discontented Peeres. What? Mother dead ?

How wildly then walkes my Eſtate in France?

Under whole conduct came those powres of France,
That thou for truth giuſt out are landed heere ?

Mef. Under the Dolphin.

*Enter Baſtard and Peter of Pomfret.*

Ioh. Thou haſt made me giddy

With theſe ill tydings: Now ? What ſayes the world
To your proceedings? Do not ſeeke to ſtuffe
My head with more ill newes : for it is full.

Baſt. But if you be a ſeard to heare the worſt,
Then let the worſt vn-heard, fall on your head.

Iohn. Beare with me Cofen, for I was amaz'd
Under the tide; but now I breath againe
Aloſe the flood, and can give audience
To any tongue, ſpeake it of what it will.

Baſt. How I haue ſped among the Clergy men,

The ſummes I haue collected ſhall expreſſe:

But as I trausail'd hither through the land,
I finde the people ſtrangely fantasſed,

Poffeſt with rumors, full of idle dreames,
Not knowing what they ſeare, but full of ſeare.

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 heeles:

To whom he ſung in rude harſh founding rimes,
That ere the next Ascenſion day at noone,
Your Highnes ſhould deliuer vp your Crowne.

Iohn. Thou idle Dreamer, wherefore didſt thou ſo ?

Pet. Fore-knowing that the truth will fall out ſo.

Iohn. Hubert, away with him : imprifon him,
And on that day at noone, whereon he ſayes

I ſhall yeeld vp my Crowne, let him be ſang'd.

Deliuer him to safety, and returne,

For I muſt vſe thee. O my gentle Cofen,
Hear'ſt thou the newes abroad, who are arriu'd?

Baſt. The French (my Lord) mens mouths are ſul of it:
Befiſes I met Lord *Bigor*, and Lord *Salisburie*.
With eyes as red as new enkindled fire,
And others more, going to ſeeke the graue
Of *Arthur*, whom they ſay is kill'd to night, on your

*Arthur*, whom they ſay is kill'd to night, on your
John. Gentle kinfman, go (luggession.)
And duſt thy ſelſe into their Companies,

Exenut

*Enter Mef.*

b 2

I

16

Ihaue a way to winne their loues againe:
Bring them before me.

Baſt. I will seeke them out.

Ioh. Nay, but make haſte: the better foote before.
O, let me haue no ſubieſt enemies,

When aduerſe Forreyners affright my Townes
With dreadfull pompe of ſlout inuafion.

Be Mercurie, let feathers to thy heeleſ,

And flye (like thought) from them, to me againe.

Baſt. The ſpirit of the time ſhall teach me ſpeed. Exit
Ioh. Spoke like a ſprightfull Noble Gentleman.

Go after him: for he perhaps ſhall neede
Some Meſſenger betwixt me, and the Peeſes,
And be thou hee.

Mef. With all my heart, my Liege.

Ioh. My mother dead?

Enter Hubert.

Hub. My Lord, they ſay ſiue Moones were ſeen to.
Foure fixed, and the ſift did whirle about
The other ſoure, in wondrous motion.

Ioh. Five Moones?

Hub. Old men, and Beldames, in the streets
Do propheſe vpon it dangerously :

Yong Arthurs death is common in their mouths,
And when they talke of him, they ſhake their heads,
And whisper one another in the care.

And he that ſpeakes, doth gripe the hearers wrift,

Whilſt he that heares, makes ſcarefull action

With wrinkled browes, with noods, with rolling eyes.

I faw a Smith ſtand with his hammer (thus)

The whilſt his Iron did on the Anuile coole,
With open mouth ſwallowing a Taylors newes,

Who with his Sheeres, and Meaſure in his hand,

Standing on flippers, which his nimble haſte
Had falſely thraſt vpon contrary ſeete,

Told of a many thouſand warlike French,
That were embattailed, and rank'd in Kent.

Another leane, vnwaſh'd Artificer,

Cuts off his tale, and talkes of Arthurs death.

Ioh. Why ſeeſt thou to poſſeſſe me with theſe ſeares?
Why vrgeſt thou to ſo oft yong Arthurs death?
Thy hand hath murdred him: I had a mighty caufe
To wſiſh him dead, but thou haſt none to kill him.

H. No had (my Lord?) why, did you not prouoke me?

Ioh. It is the curſe of Kings, to be attended
By ſlaues, that take their humors for a warrant,
To breake within the bloody house of life,
And on the winking of Authoritie

To vndeſtand a Law; to know the meaning
Of dangerous Maieſtly, when perchance it frownes
More vpon humor, then aduis'd reſpect.

Hub. Heere is your hand and Seale for what I did,

Ioh. Oh, when the laſt accompt twixt heauen & earth
Is to be made, then ſhall this hand and Seale
Witneſſe againſt vs to damnation.

How oft the ſight of meaneſ to do ill deeds,
Make deeds ill done? Had'ſt not thou beene by,
A fellow by the hand of Nature mark'd,

Quoted, and ſign'd to do a deede of ſhame,
This murther had not come into my minde.

But taking note of thy abhorr'd Alpeſt,
Finding thee fit for bloody villanie:

Apt, liable to be employ'd in danger,
I faintly broke with thee of Arthurs death:
And thou, to be endeered to a King,

Made it no conſcience to deſtroy a Prince.

Hub. My Lord.

Ioh. Had'ſt thou but (hooke thy head, or made a paſſ
When I ſpake darkely, what I purpoſed:

Or turn'd an eye of doubt vpon my ſace;

As bid me tell my tale in expreſſe words:

Deepe ſhame had ſtruck me dumbe, made me break off.
And thofe thy ſeares, might haue wrought ſeares in me.

But, thou didſt vndeſtand me by my ſignes,

And didſt in ſignes againe parley with ſiue,

Yea, without ſtop, didſt let thy heart conſent,
And conſequently, thy rude hand to acte

The deed, which both our tongues held vild to name.
Out of my ſight, and neuer ſee me more:

My Nobles leaue me, and my State is brau'd,
Euen at my gates, with rankes of fortaigne powre,
Nay, in the body of this fleſhly Land,

This kingdome, this Confine of blood, and breathe
Hoſtilitie, and ciuill tumult reignes

Betweene my conſcience, and my Cofins death.

Hub. Arme you againſt your other enemiſ:
Ile make a peace betweene your ſoule, and you.
Yong Arthur is alie: This hand of mine
Is yet a maiden, and an innocent hand.

Not painted with the Crimſon ſpots of blood,
Within this boſome, neuer entred yet

The dreadfull motion of a murderous thought,
And you haue ſlander'd Nature in my ſorme,

Which howſeuer rude exteriority,
Is yet the couer of a ſayrer minde,
Then to be butcher of an innocent childe.

Ioh. Doth Arthur lie? O haſt thee to the Peeſes,
Throw this report on their incenſad rage,
And make them tame to their obedience.

Forgive the Comment that my paſſion made
Vpon thy feature, for my rage was blinde,
And foule immaginarie eyes of blood

Prefented thee more hideous then thou art.

Oh, anſwer not; but to my Cloſſet bring

The angry Lords, with all expedient haſt,
I comure thee but flowly: run more ſaſt.

Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Arthur on the walles.

Ar. The Wall is high, and yet will I leape downe
Good ground be pittifull, and hurt me not:
There's few or none do know me, if they did,
This Ship-boyes ſembelance hath diſguſ'd me quite,
I am aſtraide, and yet Ile venture it.

If I get downe, and do not breake my limbes,
Ile finde a thouſand shifts to get away;
As good to dye, and go; as dye, and ſlay.

Oh me, my Vnckles ſpirit is in theſe ſtones,
Heauen take my ſoule, and England keep my bones. Do

Enter Pembroke, Salisbury, & Bigot.

Sal. Lords, I will meet him at S. Edmondsbury,
It is our ſafetie, and we must embrace
This gentle offer of the perillous time.

Pem. Who brought that Letter from the Cardinal
Sal. The Count Meloone, a Noble Lord of France,
Whose priuate with me of the Dolphines loue,
Is much more generall, then theſe lines import.

Bibl.

17

To morrow morning let vs meete him then,
By. Or rather then let forward, for 'twill be.
Two long dayes journey (Lords) or ere we meete.
Enter Baſtard.

Baſt. Once more to day well met, diftemper'd Lords,
The King by me requeſts your prefence (ſtraight.
That he may hear your ſeruice.

Sal. The king hath diſpoſed himselfe of vs,
We will not lyne his thin-beſtained cloak

With our pure Honors : nor attend the fooke.
That leaues the print of blood where ere it walkes.
Returne, and tell him so : we know the worſt.

Baſt. What ere you thinke, good words I thinke
were beſt.

Sal. Our greeſes, and not our manners reaſon now.
Baſt. But there is little reaſon in your greeſe:
Therefore 'were reaſon you had manners now.
Pem. Sir, fir, impatience hath his priuledge.
Baſt. Tis true, to hurt his maſter, no man's else.
Sal. This is the prſon : What is helyes here?

P. Oh death, made praud with pure & princely beuty,
The earth had not a hole to hide this deede.
That thou beſt.

Sal. Murther, as hating what himſelfe hath done,
Doth lay it open to vrge on reuenge.

Big. Or when he doom'd this Beautie to a graue,
Found it too precious Princely, for a graue.

Sal. Sir Richard, what thinke you? you haue beheld,
Or haue you read, or heard, or could you thinke?
Or do you almoſt thinke, although you ſee,
That you do ſee? Could thinkt, without this obieſt
Forme ſuch another? This is the very top,
The heigheſt, the Creſt : or Creſt vnto the Creſt
Of murthers Armes : This is the bloodieſt ſhame,
The wildeſt Saugery, the vildeſt ſtroke
That euer wall-ey'd wrath, or ſtaring rage
Presented to the teares of ſoft remorſe.

Pem. All murthers paſt, do stand excus'd in this:
And this ſo ſole, and ſo vnmatcheable,
Shall giue a holineſſe, a puritie,
To the yet vnbegotten ſinne of times;
And proue a deadly blood-ſhed, but a ieſt,
Exampl'd by this heynous ſpectacle.

Baſt. It is a damned, and a bloody worke,
The graceleſſe action of a heavy hand,
If that it be the worke of any hand.

Sal. If that it be the worke of any hand?
We had a kindle of light, what would enfue:
It is the ſhamefull worke of Huberts hand,
The practice, and the purpose of the king:
From whole obedience I forbid my ſoule,
Kneeling before this ruine of ſwecte life,
And breathing to his breathleſſe Excellence
The Incense of a Vow, a holy Vow:

Pem. Big. Our ſoules religiouſly confirme thy words.
Enter Hubert.

Hub. Lords, I am hot with haſte, in seeking you,
Arthur doth lie, the king hath ſent for you.

Sal. Oh he is bold, and bluſhes not at death,
Antw thou hatefull villain, get thee gone. (the Law?

Hu. I am no villaine. Sal. Must I rob
Baſt. Your (word) is bright fir, put it vp againe.

Sal. Not till I heath it in a murtherers skin.

Hub. Stand backe Lord Salsbury, stand backe I say.
By heauen, I thinke my ſword's as farre as yours.

Big. Out dunghill: dar'ft thou braue a Nobleman?

Hub. Not for my life : But yet I dare defend
My innocent life against an Emperor.

Sal. Thou art a Murtherer.

Hub. Do not proue me ſo :

Pem. Cut him to peeces.

Baſt. Keepe the peace, I say.

Sal. Stand by, or I thall gaul you Fanconbridge?

Baſt. Thou wert better gaul the diuell Salsbury,

If thou but frowne on me, or ſtirre thy fooſe,
Or teach thy haſtie ſpleene to do me ſhame,
Ile ſtrike thee dead. Put vp thy ſword betime,
Or Ile ſo maule you, and your toſting-Iron,

Big. What wilt thou do, renowned Fanconbridge?

Second a Villaine, and a Murtherer?

Hub. Lord Bigot, I am none.

Big. Who kill'd this Prince?

Hub. 'Tis not an houre ſince I left him well:

Sal. Truſt not thateſt cunning waters of his eyes,
For villanie is not without ſuch the ſhame,
And he, long traded in it, makes it ſeeme
Like Riuers of remorſe and innocencie.

Big. Away, toward Burie, to the Dolphin there.

P. There tel the king, he may inqure vs out. Ex. Lords.

Ba. Here's a good world: knew you of this faire work?

Hub. Do but heare me fir.

Baſt. Ha? Ile tell thee what.

Hub. Vpon my ſoule.

Baſt. If thou didſt but confent

Baſt. Go, beare him in thine armes:

b 3

Ho

18

How eafe doſt thou take all England vp,
From forth this morcell of dead Royaltie?
The life, the right, and truth of all this Realme,
Is fled to heauen : and England now is left
To tug and fcamble, and to part by th' teeth
The vn-owed interest of proud ſwelling State:
Now for the bare-pickt bone of Maiety,
Doth dogged warre brilſe his angry creſt,
And ſnarleth in the gentle eyes of peace:
Now Powers from home, and difcontents at home
Meet in one line : and vaſt confuſion waites
As dotha Rauen on a ſicke-falne beaſt,
The imminent decay of wreſted pompe.
Now happy he, whoſe cloake and center can
Hold out this tempeſt. Beare away that childe,
And follow me with ſpeed : Ile to the King:
A thouſand buſineſſes are briefe in hand,
And heauen it ſelſe doth frowne vpon the Land.
Exit.

## Adus Quartus, Scæna prima.

Enter King John and Pandolph, attendants.

K. John. Thus haue I yeelded vp into your hand
The Circle of my glory.

Pau. Take againe
From this my hand, as holding of the Pope
Your Soueraigne greatneſſe and authoritie.

John. Now keep your holy word, go meet the French,
And from his holinesſe vſe all your power
To ſtop their matches' ſore we are enflam'd :
Our disſonced Counties doe reuolt:
Our people quarrell with obedience,
Swearing Allegiance, and the loue of ſoule
To ſtranger-bloud, to forren Royalty;
This inundation of miſtempred humor,
Reſts by you onely to be qualified.
Then paſue not : for the preſent time's ſo ſicke,
That preſent medicine muſt be miniftr'd,
Or ouerthrow incureable enſues.

Pand. It was my breath that blew this Tempeſt vp,
Vpon your ſubborne ſlage of the Pope:
But ſince you are a gentle conduertite,
My tongue shall huiſh againe this ſtorme of warre,
And make faire weather in your bluſtring land :
On this Ascension day, remember well,
Vpon your oath of ſeruice to the Pope,
Goe I to make the French lay downe their Armes.

John. Is this Ascension day ? did not the Prophet
Say, that before Ascension day at noone,
My Crowne I ſhould giue off? euen so I haue:
I did ſuppofe it ſhould be on conſtraint,
But (heau'n be thank'd) it is but voluntary.

Enter Baſtard.

Baſt. All Kent hath yeelded: nothing there holds out
But Douer Castle: London hath receiu'd
Like a kindne Hoft, the Dolphin and his powers.
Your Nobles will not heare you, but are gone
To offer ſeruice to your enemy:
And wilde amazement hurries vp and downe
The little number of your doubtfull friends.

John. Would not my Lords returne to me againe
After they heard yong Arthur was aliue?

Baſt. They found him dead, and caſt into the freets,
An empty Casker, where the Iewell of life
By ſome damn'd hand was rob'd, and tane away.

John. That villaine Hubert told me he did lioe.

Baſt. So on my ſoule he did, for ought he knew:
But wherefore doe you droope ? why looke you faid?
Be great in aſt, as you haue beene in thought :

Let not the world ſee ſeare and ſad diſtruſt

Gouerne the motion of a kinglye eye :

Be stirringas the time, be fire with fire,
Threaten the threatner, and out-face the brow

Of bragging horror: So ſhall inferior eyes

That borrow their behauiours from the great,

Grow great by your example, and put on

The dauntlesſe ſpirit of refolution.

Away, and glifter like the god of warre
When he intendeth to become the field :

Shew boldneſſe and aspiring confidence:

What, ſhall they ſeeke the Lion in his denne,

And fright him there ? and make him tremble there?

Oh let it not be ſaid: forrage, and runne

To meet diſpleasure farther from the dores,

And grapple with him ere he come ſo nye.

John. The Legat of the Pope hath beene with me,
And I haue made a happy peace with him,
And he hath promis'd to diſmiſſe the Powers
Led by the Dolphin.

Baſt. Oh inglorious league :

Shall we vpon the footing of our land,

Send fayre-play-orders, and make comprimife,

Inſuination, parley, and bafe truce

To Armes Inuaſue ? Shall a beardleſſe boy,

A cockred-filken wanton braue our fields,

And fleſh his ſpirit in a warre-like ſoyle,

Mocking the ayre with colours idlely ſpred,

And finde no checke ? Let vs my Liege to Armes:

Perchance the Cardinall cannot make your peace;

Or if he doe, let it at least be ſaid

They ſaw we had a purpose of defence.

John. Haue thou the ordering of this preſent time.

Baſt. Away then with good courage: yet I know

Our Partie may well meet a prowder foe.

Exeunt.

## Scæna Secunda.

Enter (in Armes) Dolphin, Salisbury, Melloone, Pim-
broke, Bigot, Souldiers.

Dol. My Lord Melloone, let this be coppied out,
And keepe it ſafe for our remembrance :
Returne the preſident to these Lords againe,
That hauing our faire order written downe,
Both they and we, perusing ore these notes
May know wherefore we tooke the Sacrament,
And keepe our faithes firme and inuiolable.

Sal. Vpon our sides it neuer ſhall be broken.

And Noble Dolphin, albeit we ſware

A voluntary zeale, and an vn-urg'd Faith

To your proceedings: yet beleeue me Prince,

I am not glad that ſuch a ſore of Time

Should ſeeke a plafter by concem'd reuolt,

And heale the inueterate Canker of one wound,

By

19

By making many: Oh it grieues my foule,
That I must draw this mettle from my side
To be a widow-maker: oh, and there
Where honourable rescue, and defence
Cries out vpon the name of Salisbury.
But (uch is the infection of the time,
That for the health and Physicke of our right,
We cannot deale but with the very hand
Ofterne Innuïce, and confused wrong :
And is not pitty, (oh my grieued friends)
That we, the tonnes and children of this Isle,
Was borne to fee so fad an hourre as this,
Wherein we step after a stranger, march
Vpon her gentle bofom, and fill vp
Her Enemies rankes ? I muſt withdraw, and weepe
Vpon the spot of this inforced cause,
To grace the Gentry of a Land remote,
And follow vnacquainted colours heere:
What heere ? O Nation that thou couldt remoue,
That Neptunes Armes who clippeth thee about,
Would beare thee from the knowledge of thy ſelfe,
And cripple thee vnto a Pagen ſhore,
Where theſe two Chriſtian Armes might combine
The cloud of malice, in a vaine of league,
And not to spend it ſo vn-neighbourly.

Dolph. A noble temper doſt thou ihew in this,
And great affections wraſhing in thy boſome
Doth make an earth-quake of Nobility:
Oh, what a noble combat haſt fought
Between compulsion, and a braue respect:
Let me wipe off this honourable dewe,
That filuerly doth progrefſe on thy cheekes:
My heart hath melted at a Ladies teates,
Being an ordinary Inundation :
But this effusion of ſuch manly drops,
This ſhowre, blowne vp by tempeſt of the foule,
Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz'd
Then had I ſeene the vaultie top of heauen
Figur'd quite ore with burning Meteors.
Lit vp thy brow (renowned Salisburie)
And with a great heart heaue away this ſtorme:
Commend the ſe waters to theſe baby-eyes
That neuer faw the giant-world enrag'd,
Nor met with Fortune, other then at feaſts,
Full warm of blood, of mirth, of goſſing:
Come, come; for thou ſhalt thrust thy hand as deepe
Into the purſe of rich prosperity
As Lewis himselfe: ſo (Nobles) ſhall you all,
That knit your ſinewes to the ſtrength of mine.

Enter Pandulpho.

And euen there, methinkes an Angell ſpake,
Looke where the holy Legate comes apace,
To giue vs warrant from the hand of heauen,
And on our actions fet the name of right
With holy breath.

Pand. Haile noble Prince of France:
The next is this: King John hath reconcil'd
Himſelfe to Rame, his ſpirit is come in,
That ſo flood out againſt the holy Church,
The great Metropolis and Sea of Rome:
Therefore thy threatening Colours now winde vp,
And tame the ſauage ſpirit of wilde warre,
That like a Lion ſoftered vp at hand,
It may lie gently at the foot of peace,
And be no further harmefull then in ſhewe.

Dol. Your Grace ſhall pardon me, I will not backe:

I am too high-borne to be proportioned
To be a ſecondary at controll,
Or vſefull ſeruing-man, and Inſtrument
To any Soueraigne State throughout the world.
Your breath firſt kindled the dead coale of warres,
Betweene this chaſtiz'd kingdome and my ſelfe,
And brought in matter that ſhould feed this ſire;
And now 'tis farre too huge to be blowne out
With that fame weake winde, which enkindled it:
You taught me how to know the face of right,
Acquainted me with intereſt to this Land,
Yea, thrust this enterprize into my heart,
And come ye now to tell me John hath made
His peace with Rome ? what is that peace to me?
I (by the honour of my marriage bed)
After yang Arthur, claime this Land for mine,
And now it is halfe conquer'd, muſt I backe,
Because that John hath made his peace with Rome?
Am I Romes ſlaue? What penny hath Rome borne?
What men prouided ? What munition ſent
To vnder-prop this Action ? Is't not I
That vnder-goe this charge? Who eſſe but I,
And such as to my claime are liable,
Sweat in this buſineſſe, and maintaine this warre?
Hae I not heard theſe Iſlanders shout out
Ouie le Roy, as I haue bank'd their Townes?
Hae I not heere the beſt Cards for the game
To winne this eafie match, plaid for a Crowne?
And ſhall I now giue ore the yeelded Set?
No, no, on my foule it neuer ſhall be ſaid,

Pand. You locke but on the outſide of this worke.
Dol. Outſide or inſide, I will not returne
Till my attempt ſo much be glorified,
As to my ample hope was promiſed,
Before I drew this gallant head of warre,
And cull'd theſe fiery ſpirits from the world
To out looke Conqueſt, and to winne renowne
Euen in the iawes of danger, and of death:
What lufly Trumper thus doth ſummon vs?

Enter Baſtard.

Baſt. According to the faire-play of the world,
Let me haue audience: I am ſent to ſpeake:
My holy Lord of Millane, from the King
I come to learne how you haue dealt for him:
And, as you anſwer, I doe know the ſcope
And warrant limited vnto my tongue.

Pand. The Dolphin is too wilſull oppoſite
And will not temporize with my intreaties:
He flatly ſaies, hee ſt not lay downe his Armes.

Baſt. By all the bloud that euer fury breath'd,
The youth ſaies well. Now heare our English King,
For chus his Royaltie doth ſpeake in me:
He is prepar'd, and reaſon to he should,
This apiſh and vnmanerly approach,
This harneſs'd Maske, and vnaduſhed Revell,
This vn-heard ſawcineſſe and boyiſh Troopes,
The King doth ſmile at, and is well prepar'd
To whip this dwarſiſh warre, this Pigmy Armes
From out the circle of his Territories.
That hand which had the ſtrength, euen at your dore,
To cudgell you, and make you take the hatch,
To diue like Buckets in concealed Welles,
To crowch in litter of your ſtble plankeſ,
To lye like pawnes, lock'd vp in cheeffs and truncks,
To hug with ſwine, to ſeeke ſweet ſafety out
In vaults and prisons, and to thrill and ſhake,

Euen

20

Euen at the crying of your Nations crow,
Thinking this voyce an armed Englishman,
Shall that victorious hand be feebled heere,
That in your Chambers gaue you chafficement?
No: know the gallant Monarch is in Armes,
And like an Eagle, o're his ayerie towres,
To fowffe annoyance that comes neere his Neft;
And you degenerate, you ingrate Reuolts,
And you bloudy Nero's, ripping vp the wombe
Of your deere Mother-England: blufh for flhame:
For your owne Ladies, and pale-vifag'd Maides,
Like Amazons, come tripping after drummes :
Their thimbles into armed Gantlets change,
Their Needl's to Lances, and their gentle hearts
To fierce and bloody inclination.

Dol. There end thy braue, and turn thy face in peace,
We grant thou canſt our ſcold vs: Far thee well,
Wehield our time too precious to be ſpent
With ſuch a brabler.

Pan. Giue me leaue to ſpeake.

Baſt. No, I will ſpeake.

Dol. We will attend to neyther:
Strike vp the drummes, and let the tongue of warre
Pleade for our intereſt, and our being heere.

Baſt. Indeeſe your drummes being beaten, will cry out;
And ſo ſhall you, being beaten: Do but ſtart
An eccho with the clamor of thy drumme,
And euen at hand, a drumme is readie brac'd,
That ſhall reuerberate all, as lowd as thine.

Sound but another, and another ſhall
(As lowd as thine) rattle the Welkins eare,
And mocke the deepe mouth'd Thunder: for at hand
(Not truſting to this halting Lcgate heere,
Whom he hath vs'd rather for ſport, then neeſe)

Is warlike Iohn: and in his fore-head ſits
A bare-rib'd death, whose ſoffice is this day
To feaſt vpon whole thouſands of the French.

Dol. Strike vp our drummes, to finde this danger out.

Baſt. And thou ſhalt finde it (Dolphin) do not doubt

Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Alarums. Enter Ioh and Hubert.

Iohn. How goes the day with vs? oh tell me Hubert.

Hub. Badly I feare; how fares your Maiefy ?

Ioh. This Feauer that hath troubled me so long,
Lyes heauie on me: oh, my heart is ſicke.

Enter a Meſſenger.

Mef. My Lord: your valiant kinsman Falconbridge,
Deſires your Maiefie to leaue the field,
And ſend him word by me, which way you go.

Ioh. Tell him toward Swinſted, to the Abbey there.
Mef. Be of good comfort: for the great ſupply,
That was expected by the Dolphin heere,
Are wrack'd three nights ago on Goodwin lands.
This newes was brought to Richard but euen now,
The Frenth fight coldly, and retyre themselves.

Ioh. Aye me, this tyrant Feauer burnes mee vp,
And will not let me welcome this good newes.
Set on toward Swinſted: to my Litter straight,
Weakneſſe poffeſeth me, and I am faint.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Salisbury, Pembroke, and Bigot.

Sal. I did not thinke the King ſo for't with friends.

Pem. Vp once againe: put ſpirit in the French,
If they miſcarry: we miſcarry too.

Sal. That misbegotten diuell Falconbridge,
In ſpight of ſpight, alone vpholds the day.

Pem. They ſay King Ioh fore ſick, bath left the field.
Enter Meloon wounded.

Mel. Lead me to the Reuolts of England heere.

Sal. When we were happie, we had other names.

Pem. It is the Count Meloone.

Sal. Wounded to death.

Mel. Fly Noble English, you are bought and fold,
Vnthred the rude eye of Rebellion,
And welcome home againe discarded faith,
Seeke out King Ioh, and fall before his feete:
For if the French be Lords of this loud day,
He meanes to recompence the paines you take,
By cutting off your heads: Thus hath he ſworne,
And I with him, and many moe with mee,
Vpon the Altar at S. Edmondsbury,
Euen on that Altar, where we ſwore to you
Deere Amity, and eueralſting loue.

Sal. May this be poffible? May this be true?

Mel. Haue I not hideous death within my view,
Retaining but a quantity of life,

Which bleeds away, euen as a forme of waxe

Reſolueth from his figure 'gainſt the fire ?

What in the world ſhould make me now deceite,
Since I muſt looke the vſe of all deceite?

Why ſhould I then be ſalſe, since it is true

That I muſt dye heere, and liue hence, by Truth?

I lay againe, if Lewis do win the day,

He is forſworne, if ere thofe eyes of yours

Behold another day breake in the Eaſt:

But euen this night, whose blaſſe contagious breath

Already ſmoakes about the burning Creſt

Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied Sunne,

Euen this ill night, your breathing ſhall expire,

Paying the fine of rated Treachery,

Euen with a treacherous fine of all your liues:

If Lewis, by your alſiſtance win the day.

Commend me to one Hubert, with your King;

The loue of him, and this reſpect beſides

(For that my Grandſire was an Englishman)

Awakes my Conſience to conſeſſe all this.

In lieu whereof, I pray you beare me hence

From forth the noife and rumour of the Field;

Where I may thinke the remnant of my thoughts

In peace: and part this bodie and my ſoule

With contemplation, and deuout deſires.

Sal. We do beleeue thee, and beſhrew my ſoule,
But I do loue the fauour, and the forme

Of this moſt faire occafion, by the which

We will vntread the ſteps of damned flight,

And like a bated and retired Flood,

Leauing our rankneſſ and irregular course,

Stoope lowe within those bounds we haue ore-look'd,
And calmly run on in obedience

Euen to our Ocean, to our great King Ioh.

My arme ſhall giue thee helpe to beare thee hence,

21

For I do see the cruel pangs of death
Right in thine eye. Away, my friends, new flight,
And happy newnesſe, that intends old right.

Exeunt

## Scena Quinta.

*Enter Dolphin, and his Traine.*

Del. The Sun of heaven (me thought) was loth to set;
But it aid, and made the Weſterne Welkin bluish,
When English meaſure backward their owne ground
In faint Retire: Oh brauly came we off,
When with a volley of our needleſſe shot,
After such bloody toile, we bid good night,
And woon' our tottering colours clearly vp,
Left in the field, and almoſt Lords of it.

*Enter a Mefſenger.*

Mef. Where is my Prince, the Dolphin?

Del. Here: what newes?

Mef. The Count Melaone is ſlaine: The English Lords
By his perſuafion, are againe falne off,
And your supply, which you haue wif'd ſo long,
Are caſt away, and funke on Goodwin ſands.

Del. Ah fowle, I ſhrew'd newes. Belſhrew thy very
I did not thinke to be ſo fad to night
(hart:
As this ha' made me. Who was he that faid
King John did flie an houre or two before
The flumbling night did part our wearie powres?

Mef. Who euer ſpoke it, it is true my Lord.
Del. Well: keepe good quarter, & good care to night,
The day shall not be vp to ſoon as I,
Tarry the faire aduenture of to-morrow.

Exeunt

## Scena Sexta.

*Enter Baſtard and Hubert, ſeuerally.*

Hub. Whose there? ſpeak e hoa, ſpeak e quickly, or
I ſnoot.

Baſt. A Friend. What art thou?

Hub. Of the part of England.

Baſt. Whether does't thou go?

Hub. What's that to thee?

Why may not I demand of thine affaires,
As well as thou of mine?

Baſt. Hubert, I thinke.

Hub. Thou haſt a perſect thought:

I will upon all hazards well beleeeue
Thou art my friend, that know't my tongue ſo well:

Who art thou?

Baſt. Who thou wilt: and if thou pleafe

Thou maſt be-friend me ſo much, as to thinke

I come one way of the Plantagenets.

Hub. Vakinde remembrance: thou, & endles night,
Hae done me ſhame: Braue Soldier, pardon me,
That any accent breaking from thy tongue,

Should ſcape the true acquaintance of mine eare.

Baſt. Come, come: fans complement, What newes
abroad?

Hub. Why heere walke I, in the black brow of night
To finde you out.

Baſt. Brieſe then: and what's the newes?

Hub. O my sweet ſir, newes fitting to the night,
Blacke, fearefull, comfortleſſe, and horrible.

Baſt. Shew me the very wound of this ill newes,
I am no woman, Ile not ſ wound at it.

Hub. The King I feare is poyſon'd by a Monke,
I left him almoſt ſpeechleſſe, and broke out
To acquaint you with this quill, that you might
The better arme you to the ſodaine time,
Then if you had at leifure knowne of this.

Baſt. How did he take it? Who did tafe to him?

Hub. A Monke I tell you, a reſolued villaine
Whose Bowels ſodainly burſt out: The King
Yet ſpeakes, and peraduenture may recouer.

Baſt. Who didſt thou leaue to tend his Maieſty?

Hub. Why know you not? The Lords are all come
backe,
And brought Prince Henry in their companie,
At whose requeſt the king hath pardon'd them,
And they are all about his Maieſtie.

Baſt. With-hold thine indignation, mighty heauen,
And tempt vs not to beare aboue our power.
Ile tell thee Hubert, haſle my power this night
Paſsing theſe Flats, are taken by the Tide,
Theſe Lincoln-Waſhes haue deuoured them,
My ſelſe, well mounted, hardly haue eſcap'd.

Away before: Conduct me to the king,
I doubt he will be dead, or ere I come.

Exeunt

## Scena Septima.

*Enter Prince Henry, Salisbury, and Bigor.*

Hen. It is too late, the life of all his blood
Is touch'd, corruptibly: and his pure braine
(Which ſome ſuppofe the ſoules fraile dwelling house)
Doth by the idle Comments that it makes,
Fore-tell the ending of mortality.

*Enter Pembroke.*

Pem. His Highneſſe yet doth ſpeak, & holds beleefe,
That being brought into the open ayre,
It would allay the burning qualitie
Of that ſell poſſon which aſſayleth him.

Hen. Let him be brought into the Orchard heere:
Doth he still rage?

Pem. He is more patient
Then when you left him; euen now he ſung.

Hen. Oh vanity of ſickneſſe: ſierce extreames
In their continuance, will not feele them ſelues.
Death hauing praid e vpon the outward parts
Leaues them inuible, and his ſeige is now
Againſt the winde, the which he pricks and wounds
With many legions of ſtrange ſantafies,
Which in their throng, and preſſe to that laſt hold,
Count found them ſelues. 'Tis ſtrange: death ſhold ſing:
I am the Symet to this pale faint Swan,
Who chaunts a dolefull hymne to his own death,
And from the organ-pipe of frailecy ſings
His ſoule and body to their laſting reſt.

Sal. Be of good comfort (Prince) for you are borne
To ſet a forme vpon that indigeſt
Which he hath left ſo ſhapeleſſe, and ſo rude.

*John brought in.*

John. I marrie, now my ſoule hath elbow roome,

I

It would not out at windowes, nor at doores,
There is so hot a summer in my bosome,

That all my bowels crumble vp to dust:
I am a scribled forme drawne with a pen

Vpon a Parchment, and against this fire
Do I shrinke vp.

Hen. How fares your Maiety ?

Iob. Poyſon'd, ill fare: dead, forſooke, caſt off,
And none of you will bid the winter come
To thrust his yeie fingers in my maw;

Nor let my kingdoms Riuers take their course
Through my burn'd boſome: nor intreat the North
To make his bleake windes kiffe my parched lips,
And comfort me with cold. I do not aske you much,
I begge cold comfort: and you are ſo ſtraight
And to ingratefull, you deny me that.

Hen. Oh that there were ſome vertue in my teares,
That might releuc you.

John. The falt in them is hot.

Within me is a hell, and there the poyſon

Is, as a fiend, confin'd to tyrannize,
On vnpreceivable condemned blood.

Enter Baſtard.

Baſt. Oh, I am ſcalded with my violent motion
And ipleene of ſpeede, to ſee your Maiety.

Iobn. Oh Cozen, thou art come to let mine eye:
The tackle of my heart, is crack'd and burnt,
And all the ſhrowds wherewith my life ſhould ſaile,
Are turned to one thred, one little haire:

My heart hath one poore string to ſtay it by,
Which holds but till thy newes be vittered,
And then all this thou ſeest, is but a clod,
And module of confounded royalty.

Baſt. The Dolphin is preparing bither-ward,
Where heauen he knowes how we ſhall anſwer him,
For in a night the beſt part of my powre,

As I vpon aduantage did remoue,
Were in the Wathes all vnwarily,

Deuoured by the vnexpected flood.

Sal. You breath theſe dead newes in as dead an eare
My Liege, my Lord: but now a King, now thus.

Hen. Euen ſo muſt I run on, and euen ſo ſtop.

What ſurety of the world, what hope, what ſtay,
When this was now a King, and now is clay?

Baſt. Art thou gone ſo ? I do but ſtay behinde,
To do the office for thee, of reuenge,

And then my ſoule ſhall waite on thee to heauen,

As it on earth hath bene thy ſeruant ſtill.

Now, now you Starres, that moue in your right ſpheres,
Where be your powres? Shew now your mended faith:
And instantly returne with me againe.

To push deſtruction, and perpetuall ſhame
Out of the weake doore of our fainting Land:
Straight let vs ſeeke, or ſtraight we ſhall be ſought,
The Dolphine rages at our verie heeles.

Sal. It ſeemes you know not then so much as we,
The Cardinall Pandoſulph is within at reſt,
Who hafse an houre ſince came from the Dolphin,
And brings from him ſuch offers of our peace,
As we with honor and reſpect may take,

With purpose preſently to leaue this warre,

Baſt. He will the rather do it, when he ſees
Our ſelues well ſinew'd to our defence.

Sal. Nay, 'tis in a manner done already,
For many carriages hee hath dispatch'd

To the ſea ſide, and put his cauſe and quarrell
To the diſpoſing of the Cardinall,

With whom your ſelfe, my ſelfe, and other Lords,
If you thinke meete, this afternoone will pock
To consummate this buſineſſe happily.

Baſt. Let it be ſo, and you my noble Prince,
With other Princes that may beſt be ſpar'd,
Shall waite vpon your Fathers ſunerall.

Hen. At Worſter muſt his bodie be interr'd,
For ſo he will'd it.

Baſt. Thither shall it then,
And happily may your ſweet ſelfe put on
The lineall ſtate, and glorie of the Land,
To whom with all ſubmission on my knee,

I do bequeath my faithfull ſeruices
And true ſubjeſtion everlaſtingly.

Sal. And the like tender of our loue wee make
To reſt without a ſpot for euermore.

Hen. I haue a kinde ſoule, that would giue thanke,
And knowes not how to do it, but with teares.

Baſt. Oh let vs pay the time: but needſull woe,
Since it hath beene before hand with our greeſes,
This England neuer did, nor neuer shall

Lye at the proud ſoote of a Conqueror,
But when it firſt did helpe to wound it ſelfe.

Now, theſe her Princes are come home againe,
Come the three corners of the world in Armes,

And we ſhall ſhocke them: Naught ſhall make vs true,
If England to it ſelfe, do reſt but true.

Exemt.

23

# The life and death of King Richard
the Second.

## Actus Primus, Scæna Prima.

Enter King Richard, John of Gaunt, with other Nobles and Attendants.

King Richard.

Ld John of Gaunt, time-honoured Lancafter,
Haft thou according to thy oath and band
Brought hither Henry Herford thy bold son:
Heere to make good § boiftrous late appeale,
Which then our leyfure would not let vs heare,
Against the Duke of Norfolke, Thomas Mowbray?

Gaunt. I haue my Liege:

King. Tell me moreover, haft thou founded him,
If he appeale the Duke on ancient malice,
Or worthily as a good subieſt should
On ſome knowne ground of treacherie in him.

Gaunt. As neere as I could lift him on that argument,
On ſome apparent danger ſeen e in him,
Aym'd at your Highneſſe, no inueterate malice.

Km. Then call them to our prefence face to face,
And frowning brow to brow, our ſelues will heare
Th'accuser, and the accuſed, freely ſpeake;
High ſtomack'd are they both, and full of ire,
Inrage, deafe as the sea; haſtie as fire.

Enter *Bullingbrooke and Mowbray*.

Bul. Many yeares of happy dayes befall
My gracious Soueraigne, my moſt louing Liege.
Mow. Each day ſtill better others happineſſe,
Vntill the heauens enuying earths good hap,
Adde an immortall title to your Crowne.

King. We thank e you both, yet one but flatters vs,
As well appeareth by the cauſe you come,
Namely, to appeale each other of high treaſon.
Cooſin of Hereford, what doſt thou obiect
Against the Duke of Norfolke, Thomas Mowbray?

Bul. First, heauen be the record to my ſpeech,
In the deuotion of a ſubieſt loue,
Tendering the precious ſafetie of my Prince,
And free from other misbegotten hate,
Come I appealant to this Princely prefence.
Now Thomas Mowbray do I turne to thee,

And marke my greeting well: for what I ſpeake,
My body shall make good vpon this earth,
Or my diuine foule anſwer it in heauen.
Thou art a Traitor, and a Mifcreant;
Too good to be ſo, and too bad to live,
Since the more faire and chriftall is the skie,

The vglier ſeeme the cloudes that in it flye:
Once more, the more to aggrauate the note,
With a foule Traitors name ſtuffe I thy throte,
And wifh (so pleaſe my Soueraigne) ere I moue,
What my tong ſpeaks, my right drawn ſword may proue

Mow. Let not my cold words heere accuſe my zeale:
'Tis not the triall of a Womans warre,
The bitter clamour of two eager tongues,
Can arbitrate this cauſe betwixt vs twaine.
The blood is hot that muſt be cooſ'd for this.
Yet can I not of ſuch tame patience boaſt,
As to be huſt, and nought at all to ſay.

First the faire reverence of your Highneſſe curbes me,
From giuing reines and spurreſt to my free ſpeech,
Which elle would poſt, vntill it had return'd
These ſtearmes of treaſon, doubly downe his throat.

Setting aside his high bloods royalty,
And let him be no Kinfman to my Liege,
I do deſe him, and I ſpit at him,
Call him a ſlanderous Coward, and a Villaine:
Which to maintaine, I would allow him oddes,
And meete him, were I tide to runne afoote,
Euen to the frozen ridges of the Alpes,
Or any other ground inhabitable,

Where euer Englishman durſt fet his ſoote.
Meane time, let this defend my loyaltie,
By all my noſes moſt falſely doth he lie.

Bul. Pale trembling Coward, there I throw my gage,
Difclaiming heere the kindred of a King,
And lay aside my high bloods Royalty,
Which ſeare, not reverence makes thee to except.

If guilty dread hath left thee ſo much ſtrength,
As to take vp mine Honors pawne, then ſtoope.
By that, and all the rites of Knight-hood elle,
Will I make good againſt thee arme to arme,
What I haue ſpoken, or thou canſt deuife.

Mow. I take it, vp, and by that ſword I ſweare,
Which gently laid my Knight-hood on my ſhoulder,
He anſwer thee in any faire degree,
Or Chiualrous deſigne of knightly triall:
And when I mount, aliuie may I not light,
If I be Traitor, or vnilyſt fight.

King. What doth our Cofin lay to Mowbraies charge?
It muſt be great that can inherit e vs,
So much as of a thought of ill in him.

Bul. Looke what I ſaid, my life shall proue it true,
That Mowbray hath recei'd eight thouſand Nobles,

In

The life and death of Richard the Second.

24

Inname of lendings for your Highnesse Soldiers,
The which he bath detain'd for lewd employments,
Like a falfe Traitor, and injurious Villaine.
Besides I fay, and will in battaile proue,
Or here, or elsewhere to the furtheft Verge
That euer was furuey'd by English eye,
That all the Treafons for these eighteene yeeres
Complorted, and contriued in this Land,
Fetch'd from falfe Mowbray their first head and ſpring,
Further I fay, and further will maintraine
Vpon his bad life, to make all this good.
That he did plot the Duke of Glouſters death,
Suggeſt his ſoone beleeuing aduerfaries,
And conſequently, like a Traitor Coward,
Slue'd out his innocent ſoule through ſtreames of blood;
Which blood, like sacrificing Abels cries,
(Euen from the toongleſſe cauernes of the earth)
To me for iſtice, and rough chaſticement :
And by the glorious worth of my diſent,
This arme ſhall do it, or this life be ſpent.

King. How high a pitch his resolution ſoares :
Thomas of Norſolke, what ſayſt thou to this ?

Mow. Oh let my Soueraigne turne away his face,
And bid his cares a little while be deafe,
Till I have told this ſlander of his blood,
How God, and good men, hate ſo ſoule a lyar.

King. Mowbray, impartiall are our eyes and cares,
Were he my brother, nay our kingdoms heyre,
As he is but my fathers brothers ſonne;
Now by my Scepters awe, I make a vow,
Such neighbour-nereneſſe to our ſacred blood,
Should nothing priuilege him, nor partialize
The vn-ſooping firmeneſſe of my vpright ſoule.
He is our ſubieſt (Mowbray) ſo farth thou,
Free ſpeech, and feareleſſe, I ſo thee allow.

Mow. Then Bullingbrooke, as I am to thy heart,
Through the falſe paſſage of thy throat; thou lyeth:
Threec parts of that receipt I had for Callice,
Disbueſt I to his Highneſſe ſouldiers;
The other part referu'd I by conſent,
For that my Soueraigne Liege was in my debt,
Vpon remainder of a deere Accompt,
Since laſt I went to France to fetch his Queene:
Now ſwallow downe that Lye. For Glouſters death,
I flew him not; but (to mine owne diſgrace)
Neglected my ſworne duty in that cale :
For you my noble Lord of Lancaſter,
The honourable Father to my foe,
Once I did lay an ambuſh for your life,
A trefpaffe that doth vex my greued ſoule:
But ere I laſt receiv'd the Sacrament,
I did conſeſſe it, and exacely begg'd
Your Graces pardon, and I hope I had it.
This is my fault: as for the reſt appeal'd,
It iſues from the rancour of a Villaine,
A reccreant, and moſt degenerate Traitor,
Which in my ſelfe I boldly will defend,
And interchangeably hurle downe my gage
Vpon this ouer-weening Traitors ſtootef,
To proue my ſelfe a loyall Gentleman,
Euen in the beſt blood chamber'd in his boſome.
In haſt whereof, moſt heartily I pray
Your Highneſſe to affigne our Triall day.

King. Wrath-kindled Gentlemen be rul'd by me :
Let's purge this choller without letting blood:
This we preſcribe, though no Phyſition,

Deepe malice makes too deepe incifion,
Forget, forgiue, conclude, and be agreed,
Our Doctors ſay, This is no time to bleed.
Good Vnkle, let this end where it begun,
Wee'l calme the Duke of Norſolke; you, your ſon.
Gaunt. To be a make-peace ſhall become my age;
Throw downe (my ſonne) the Duke of Norſolkes gage.
King. And Norſolke, throw downe his,
Gaunt. When Harrie when? Obedience bids,
Obedience bids I should not bid agen.
King. Norſolke, throw downe, we bidde; therelſ
no boote.

Mow. My ſelfe I throw (dread Soueraigne) at thy ſoar.
My life thou ſhalt command, but not my ſhame,
The one my dutie owes, but my faire name
Deſpight of death, that liues vpon my graue
To darke diſhonours vſe, thou ſhalt not haue.
I am diſgrac'd, impeach'd, and baffel'd heere,
Pierc'd to the ſoule with ſlanders venom'd ſpeare:
The which no balme can cure, but his heart blood
Which breath'd this poyſon.

King. Rage muſt be withſtood:
Gie me his gage: Lyons make Leopards tame.

Mow. Yea, but not change his ſpots: take but my ſlaine.
And I reſigne my gage. My deere, deere Lord,
The pureſt treaſure mortall times afford
Is ſpottleſſe reputation: that away,
Men are but gilded loame, or painted clay.
A Iewell in a ten times barr'd vp Cheſt,
Is a bold ſpirit, in a loyall breſt.
Mine Honor is my life; both grow in one:
Take Honor from me, and my life is done.
Then (deere my Liege) mine Honor let me trie,
In that I line; and for that will I die.

King. Coofin, throw downe your gage,
Do you begin.

Bul. Oh heauen defend my ſoule from ſuch ſoule in,
Shall I ſeeme Creſt-falne in my fathers fight,
Or with pale beggar-ſeare impeach my hight
Before this out-dar'd daſtard? For my toong,
Shall wound mine honor with ſuch feeble wrong;
Or found to bafe a parle: my teeth ſhall teare
The flauiſh motion of recanting ſeare,
And ſpit it bleeding in his high diſgrace,
Where ſhame doth harbour, even in Mowbray's face.

Exit Gaunt.
King. We were not borne to ſue, but to command,
Which ſince we cannot do to make you friends,
Be readie, (as your liues ſhall anſwer it)
At Couentree, vpon S. Lamberts day:
There ſhall your ſwords and Lances arbitrate
The ſwelling difference of your ſetled hate:
Since we cannot atone you, you ſhall ſee
Iſtice diſigne the Vıctors Chiuallrie.
Lord Marſhall, command our Officers at Armes,
Be readie to direſt these home Alarmes.

Exequens.

## Scæna Secunda.

Enter Gaunt, and Duthcheſſe of Glouſeſter.
Gaunt. Alas, the part I had in Glouſters blood,
Doth more ſolicite me then your exclaimes,
To ſurre againſt the Butchers of his life.

The life and death of Richard the second.

25

But since correction lyeth in those hands
Which made the fault that we cannot correct,
Put we our quarrell to the will of heauen,
Who when they see the houres ripe on earth,
Will raigne hot vengeance on offenders heads.
Dut. Findes brotherhood in thee no sharper spurre?

Hath loue in thy old blood no liuing fire?

Edwards feuen fonnes (whereof thy felfe art one)

Were as feuen violles of his Sacred blood,

Or feuen faire branches springing from one roote:

Some of those feuen are dride by natures courfe,

Some of those branches by the deftinies cut:

But Thomas, my deere Lord, my life,my Gloufter,
One Vioil full of Edwards Sacred blood,

One flourishing branch of his moft Royall roote

Is crac'd, and all the precious liquor spilt;

Is backt downe, and his summer leafes all vaded

By Emies hand, and Murde's bloody Axe.

An Gaunt! his blood was thine, that bed, that wombe,

That Morthertle, that ſelfe-mould that fashion'd thee,

Made him a man: and though thou liuſt, and breath ſt,

Yet art thou ſaine in him: thou doſt confess

In some large measure to thy Fathers death,

In that thou feet thy wretched brother dye,

Who was the modell of thy Fathers life.

Call it not patience (Gaunt) it is dispaire,

In ſoſing thus thy brother to be slaught er'd,

Thou ſhew ſt the naked pathway to thy life,

Teaching ſterne murther how to butcher thee :

That which in meane men we intitle patience

Is pale cold cowardice in noble brefts :

What ſhall I ſay, to ſafegard thine owne life,

The beſt way is to venge my Glouſters death.

An angry armes againſt his Minifter.

Dut. Where then (alas may I) complaint my ſelfe?

Gau. To heauen, the widdowes Champion to defence

Dut. Why then I will: farewell old Gaunt.

Thou goſt to Couentrie, there to behold

Our Cofine Herford, and ſell Mowbray fight :

O ſit my husbands wrongs on Herford's ſpeare,

That it may enter butcher Mowbrayes breſt :

Or if misfortune miſſe the firſt carreere,

Be Mowbrayes finnes ſo heauy in his boſome,

That they may breake his foaming Courſers backe,

And throw the Rider headlong in the Lifts,

A Caytiffe recreant to my Cofine Herford:

Farewell old Gaunt, thy sometimes brothers wife

With her companion Greeſe, muſt end her life.

Gau. Sifter farewell: I muſt to Couentree,

As much good ſlay with thee, as go with mee.

Dut. Yet one word more: Greeſe boundeth where it

Not with the empty hollownes, but weight: (falls,

I take my leaue, before I haue begun,

For ſorrow ends not, when it feemeth done.

Commend me to my brother Edmund Torke.

Loe, this is all: nay, yet depart not ſo,

Though this be all, do not ſo quickly go,

I shall remember more. Bid him, Oh, what?

With all good ſpeed at Plaſhie visit mee.

Alacke, and what ſtill good old Yorke there ſee

But empty lodgings, and vnſurniſh'd walles,

Ya-peop'l'd Offices, yntroden ſtones?

And what heare there for welcome, but my grones?

Therefore commend me, let him not come there,

To ſeeke out ſorrow, that dwels euery where:

Defolace, defolate will I hence, and dye,

The laſt leaue of thee, takes my weeping eye.

Exeunt

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Marshall, and Aumerle.

Mar. My L. Aumerle, is Harry Herford arm'd?

Aum. Yea, at all points, and longs to enter in.

Mar. The Duke of Norſtolke, ſprightfully and bold,
Stayes but the ſummons of the Appealants Trumper.

Au. Why then the Champions, are prepar'd, and ſtay
For nothing but his Maieſties approach.

Flourish.

Enter King, Gaunt, Busby, Bagot, Greene, & others : Then Mowbray in Armor, and Harrold.

Rich. Marshall, demand of yonder Champion
The caufe of his arriuall heere in Armes,
Aske him his name, and orderly proceed
To ſweare him in the iuſtice of his caufe.

Mar. In God's name, and the Kings, say who y art,

And why thou com'st thus knightly clad in Armes?

Againſt what man thou com'st, and what's thy quarrell,

Speake truly on thy knighthood, and thine oath,

As ſo defend thee heauen, and thy valour.

Mow. My name is Tho. Mowbray, Duke of Norſtolk,

Who hither comes engaged by my oath

(Which heauen defend a knight should violate)

Both to defend my loyalty and truth,

To God, my King, and his ſucceeding iſſue,

Againſt the Duke of Herford, that appeales me:

And by the grace of God, and this mine arme,

To proue him (in defending of my ſelfe)

A Traitor to my God, my King, and me,

And as I truly fight, defend me heauen.

Tucket. Enter Hereford, and Harold.

Rich. Marshall: Aske yonder Knight in Armes,

Both who he is, and why he commeth hither,

Thus placed in habiliments of warre :

And formerly according to our Law

Depofe him in the iuſtice of his caufe.

Mar. What is thy name? and wherofe comſt y hither

Before King Richard in his Royall Lifts?

Againſt whom comſt thou? and what's thy quarrell?

Speake like a true Knight, ſo defend thee heauen.

Bul. Harry of Herford, Lancaſter, and Derbie,

Am I: who ready heere do ſtand in Armes,

To proue by heauens grace, and my bodies valour,

In Lifts, on Thomas Mowbray Duke of Norſtolke,

That he's a Traitor foule, and dangerous,

To God of heauen, King Richard, and to me,

Mar. On paine of death, no person be ſo bold,

Or daring hardie as to touch the Liftes,

Except the Marshall, and ſuch Officers

Appointed to direſt theſe faire deſignes.

Bul. Lord Marshall, let me kiffle my Soueraigns hand,

And bow my knee before his Maieſtie:

For Mowbray and my ſelfe are like two men,

That vow a long and weary pilgrimage,

Then

Then let vs take a ceremonious leaue
And louing farwell of our feuerall friends.

*Mar.* The Appealant in all duty greets your Highnes,
And craues to kiffe your hand, and take his leaue.

*Rich.* We will descend, and fold him in our armes.
Cofin of Herford, as thy cause is iuft,
So be thy fortune in this Royall fight:

Farewell, my blood, which if to day thou fhead,
Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead.

*Bull.* Oh let no noble eye propheane a teare
For me, if I be gor'd with *Mowbrayes* (speare:
As confident, as is the Falcons flight

Againft a bird, do I with *Mowbray* fight.

My louing Lord, I take my leaue of you,
Of you (my Noble Cofin) Lord *Aumerle*;

Not fique, although I haue to do with death,
But luftie, yong, and cheerely drawing breath.

Loe, as at English Feafts, so I regreete
The daintieft laft, to make the end moft sweet.

Oh thou the carthy author of my blood,
Whofe youthfull ſpirit in me regenerate,

Doth with a two-fold rigor lift mee vp

To reach at victory aboue my head,

Adde proofe vnto mine Armour with thy prayres,
And with thy bleſſings flecle my Lances point,
That it may enter *Mowbrayes* waxen Coate,
And furnifh new the name of *John a Gaunt*,
Euen in the lufty hauiour of his ſonne.

*Gaunt.* Heauen in thy good cause make thee proſp'rous
Be Swift like lightning in the execution,
And let thy blowes doubly redoubled,
Fall like amazing thunder on the Caske
Of thy amaz'd pernicious enemy.

Rouze vp thy youthfull blood, be valiant; and liue,

*Bul.* Mine innocence, and S. George to thrive.

*Mow.* How euer heauen or fortune caſt my lot,
There liues, or dies, true to Kings *Richards* Throne,
A loyall, iuft, and vpright Gentleman:

Neuer did Captiue with a freer heart,
Caſt off his chaines of bondage, and embrace
His golden vncontroul'd enfanchifement,

More then my dancing foule doth celebrate
This Feaſt of Battell, with mine Aduerſarie.

Moſt mighty Liege, and my companion Peeres,
Take from my mouth, the wifh of happy yeares,
As gentle, and as iocond, as to ieſt,

Go I to fight: Truth, hath a quiet breſt.

*Rich.* Farewell, my Lord, securely I espy
Vertue with Valour, couched in thine eye:
Order the triall Marſhall, and begin.

*Rich.* Neuer did Captiue with a freer heart,
Caſt off his chaines of bondage, and embrace
His golden vncontroul'd enfanchifement,
More then my dancing foule doth celebrate
This Feaſt of Battell, with mine Aduerſarie.
Moſt mighty Liege, and my companion Peeres,
Take from my mouth, the wifh of happy yeares,
As gentle, and as iocond, as to ieſt,
Go I to fight: Truth, hath a quiet breſt.

*Mar.* *Harrye of Herford, Lancaſter, and Derby,*
Receiue thy Launce, and heauen defend thy right.

*Bul.* Strong as a towre in hope, I cry Amen.

*Mar.* Go beare this Lance to Thomas D. of Norſtolke.
1. *Har.* Harrye of Herford, Lancaſter, and Derbie,

Stands heere for God, his Soueraigne, and himſelſe,
On paine to be found falſe, and recreant,

To proue the Duke of Norſtolke, *Thomas Mowbray,*
A Traitor to his God, his King, and him,
And dares him to ſet forwards to the fight.

2. *Har.* Here ſtandeth *Tho: Mowbray* Duke of Norfolk
On paine to be found falſe and recreant,
Both to defend himſelſe, and to approue
*Henry of Herford, Lancaſter, and Derby,*
To God, his Soueraigne, and to him diſtoyall:
Couragiously, and with a free defire

Attending but the ſignall to begin.

*Mar.* Sound Trumpets, and let forward *Combattants*.
Stay, the King hath throwne his Warder downe.

*Rich.* Let them lay by their Helmets & their Speares.
And both returne backe to their Chaires againe:
Withdraw with vs, and let the Trumpets found,
While we returne theſe Dukes what we decree.

*A long Flourish.*

Draw neere and lift

What with our Councell we haue done.

For that our kindomes earth ſhould not be ſoild
With that deere blood which it hath ſtoſtered,
And for our eyes do hate the dire aſpect

Of ciuill wounds plough'd vp with neighbors ſwords,
Which ſo rouz'd vp with boyſtrous vntan'd drummes,
With harſh refounding Tru: pets dreadfull bray,
And grating ſhocke of wrathfull yron Armes,
Might from our quiet Confines fright faire peace,
And make vs wade euen in our kindreds blood:

Therefore, we banifh you our Territories.

You Cofin Herford, vpon paine of death,
Till twice ſiue Summers haue enrich'd our fields,
Shall not regret our faire dominions,
But treade the ſtranger pathes of banifhment,

*Bul.* Your will be done: This muſt my comfort be,
That Sun that warmes you heere, ſhall ſhine on me;
And thoſe his golden beames to you heere lent,
Shall point on me, and gild my banifhment.

*Rich.* Norfolke: for theſe remains a heauier dome,
Which I with ſome vnwillingneſſe pronounce,
The flye flow houres ſhall not determinate

The dateleſſe limit of thy deere exile:
The hopeleſſe word, of Neuer to returne,
Breathe I againſt thee, vpon paine of life.

*Mow.* A heauy ſentence, my moſt Soueraigne Lige:
And all vnlook'd for from your Highneſſe mouth:

A deerer merit, not ſo deepe a maime,
As to be caſt forth in the common ayre
Hauſe I deferued at your Highneſſe hands.

The Language I haue learn'd theſe forty yeares
(My natiue English) now I muſt forgo,
And now my tongues vſe is to me no more,
Then an vnſtringed Vyall, or a Harpe,
Or like a cunning Inſtrument cas'd vp,
Or being open, put into his hands

That knowes no touch to tune the harmony.
Within my mouth you haue engaol'd my tongue,

Doubly perculliſt with my teeth and lippes,
And dull, vnteeling, barren ignorance,
Is made my Gaoler to attend on me :

I am too old to fawne vpon a Nurſe,

Too farre in yeeres to be a pupill now:
What is thy ſentence then, but ſpeechleſſe death,

Which robs my tongue from breathing natiue breath?

*Rich.* It boots thee not to be compaſſionate,
After our ſentence, plaining comes too late.

*Mow.* Then thus I turne me from my countries ligh
to dwell in ſolemne ſhades of endleſſe night.

*Ric.* Returne againe, and take an oath with thee,
Lay on our Royall ſword, your banifh hands;
Sware by the duty that you owe to heauen
(Our part therein we banifh with your ſelues)
To keepe the Oath that we adminifter:

*You* euer ſhall (ſo helpe you Truth, and Heauen)
Embrace each others loue in banifhment,
Nor euer looke vpon each others face,

27

Nor euer write, regreete, or reconcile
This lowring tempeft of your home-bred hate,
Nor euer by aduifed purpofe meete,
To plog, contriue, or complot any ill,
Gaint Vs, our State, our Subiects, or our Land.

Bul. I weare.

Mw. And I, to keepe all this.

Bul. Norfolke, to fare, as to mine enemie,

By this time (bad the King permitted vs)
One of our foules had wandred in the ayre,
Banifh'd this fraile sepulchre of our fleth,
As now our fleth is banifh'd from this Land.
Confefle thy Treafons, ere thou flye this Realme,
Since thou haft farre to go, beare not along
The dlogging burthen of a guilty foule.

Bul. No Bullingbreke: If euer I were Traitor,

My name be blotted from the booke of Life,

And I from heauen banifh'd, as from hence:

But what thou art, heauen, thou, and I do know,

And all too foone (I feare) the King shall true.

Farewell (my Liege) now no way can I fly,ay,

Sue backe to England, all the worlds my way.

Tch. Vncle, even in the glaſſes of thine eyes

I fee thy greemed heart : thy faſt apſect,

Hath from the number of his banifh'd yeares

Pluck'd ſoure away: Six frozen Winters ſpent,
Beume with welcome home, from banifhment:

Tch. How long a time lyes in one little word :
Foure lagging Winters, and ſoure wanton ſprings

End in a word, ſuch is the breath of Kings.

Gamt. I thanke my Liege, that in regard of me

He hortens ſoure yeares of my ſonnes exile :

But little vantage shall I reape thereby.

Fere the ſive yeares that he hath to ſpend

Can change their Moones, and bring their times about,

My orle-dride Lampe, and time-bewaſted light

Shall be extint with age, and endleſſe night:

My inch of Taper, will be burnt, and done,

And blindfold death, not let me fee my ſonne.

Rich. Why Vncle, thou haſt many yeeres to liue.

Gamt. But not a minute (King) that thou canſt giue;

Shorten my dayes thou canſt with ſudden ſorow,

And plucke nights from me, but not lend a morrow :

Thou canſt heſele time to ſurrow me with age,

Can hop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage:

Thy word is currant with him, for my death,

But dead, thy kingdome cannot buy my breath.

Rch. Thy ſonne is banifh'd vpon good advice,

Where to thy tongue a party-verdiſt gaue,

Why at our Iuſtice ſeem'd ſt thou then to lowre?

Gau. Things ſweeet to taſt, proue in digeſtion ſowre:

You wrg'd me as a Judge, but I had rather

you would haue bid me argue like a Father.

Alas, I look'd when ſome of you ſhould ſay,

I was too ſtrict to make mine owne away:

But you gaue leaue to my vnwilling tong,

Against my will, to do my ſelfe this wrong.

Rch. Cofine farewell: and Vncle bid him so :

My yeares we banifh him, and he ſhall go.

Flourish.

An. Cofine farewell: what prefence muſt not know
From where you do remaine, let paper ſhow.

Mar. My Lord, no leave take I, for I will ride

As farre as land will let me, by your ſide.

Gamt. Oh to what purpose doſt thou hord thy words,

That thou returnt no greeting to thy friends?

Bull. I haue too ſew to take my leaue of you,
When the tongues office ſhould be prodigall,
To breath th'abundant dolour of the heart.

Gau. Thy greeſe is but thy abſence for a time.

Bull. Ioy abſent, greeſe is preſent for that time.

Gau. What is fixe Winters, they are quickly gone?

Bul. To men in ioy, but greeſe makes one houre ten.

Gau. Call it a trauell that thou tak'ſt for pleaſure.

Bul. My heart will ſigh, when I miſcall it ſo,

Which ſiſdes it an inſforced Pilgrimage.

Gau. The ſullen paſſage of thy weary ſleppes

Eſteeme a ſoyle, wherein thou art to ſet

The precious Iewell of thy home returne;

Bul. Oh who can hold a fire in his hand

By thinking on the froſt e Cancaſus?

Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite,
by bare imagination of a Feaſt?

Or Wallow naked in December ſnow

by thinking on ſantaſticke ſummers heate?

Oh no, the apprehenſion of the good

Giuſes but the greater feeling to the worſe:

Fell ſorrows tooth, doth euer ranckle more

Then when it bites, but lanceth not the ſore.

Gau. Come, come (my ſon) Ile bring thee on thy way
Had I thy youth, and cauſe, I would not flay.

Bul. Then Englands ground farewell: ſweet foil adieu,

My Mother, and my Nurſe, which beares me yet:

Where ere I wander, boaſt of this I can,

Though banifh'd, yet a true-borne Englishman.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter King, Anumerle, Greene, and Bagot.

Rich. We did obſerue. Cofine Anmerle,

How far brought you high Herford on his way ?

Aum. I brought high Herford (if you call him so)

but to the next high way, and there I left him.

Rich. And ſay, what ſtore of parting tears were ſhed?

Aum. Faith none for me: except the Northeast wind

Which then grew bitterly against ſt our face,

Awak'd the ſleepie rewhme, and ſo by chance

Did grace our hollow parting with a teare.

Rich. What faſd our Cofin when you parted with him?

Au. Farewell: and for my hart diſdained y my tongue

Should ſo prophane the word, that taught me craft

To counterfeit oppreſſion of ſuch greeſe,

That word ſeem'd buried in my ſorrows graue.

Marry, would the word Farwell, haue lengthen'd houres,

And added yeeres to his ſhort banifhment,

He ſhould haue had a volume of Farwels,

but ſince it would not, he had none of me.

Rich. He is our Cofin (Cofin) but't is doubt,

When time shall call him home from banifhment,

Whether our kinfman come to ſee his friends,

Our ſelfe, and Buſhy: heere Bagot and Greene

Obferu'd his Courſhip to the common people :

How he did ſeeme to diue into their hearts,

With humble, and familiat courteſie,

What reuerence he did throw away on ſlaues;

Wooing poore Craftſen-men, with the craft of ſoules,

And patient vnder-bearing of his Fortune,

As 'twere to banifh their affects with him.

Off goes his bonnet to an Oyſter-wench,

C 2

A

28

A brace of Dray-men bid God speed him well,
And had the tribute of his supple knee,
With thanks to my Countrimen, my louing friends,
As were our England in reuerion his,
And he our subjeets next degree in hope.

Gr. Well, he is gone, & with him go these thoughts:
Now for the Rebels, which stand out in Ireland,
Expedient manage must be made my Liege
Ere further leyfure, yeeld them further meanes
For their aduantage, and your Highneſſe loffe.

Ric. We will our ſelfe in perſon to this warre,
And for our Coffers, with too great a Court,
And liberall Largeſſe, are growne ſomewhat light,
We are infor'd to farme our royall Realme,
The Reuennew whereof ſhall furniſh vs
For our affayres in hand: if that come ſhort
Our Subſtituſes at home ſhall haue Blanke-charters :
Whereunto, when they ſhall know what men are rich,
They ſhall ſubſcribe them for large ſummes of Gold,
And ſend them after to ſupply our wants:
For we will make for Ireland prefently.

Enter Buſſy.

Buſſy, what newes?

Bu. Old John of Gaunt is verie ſicke my Lord,
Sodainly taken, and hath ſent poſt haſte
To entreat your Maiety to visit him.

Ric. Where lyes he?

Bu. At Ely houſe.

Ric. Now put it (heauen) in his Phyſitians minde,
To helpe him to his graue immediately:

The lining of his coffers ſhall make Coates
To decke our ſouldiers for theſe Irish warres.

Come Gentlemen, let's all go visit him:

Pray heauen we may make haſt, and come too late. Exit.

## Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter Gaunt, ſicke with Torke.

Gau. Will the King come, that I may breath my laſt
In wholſome counſell to his vnſtaid youth?

Tor. Vex not your ſelfe, nor ſtrue not with your breth,
For all in vaine comes counſell to his care.

Gau. Oh but (they ſay) the tongues of dying men
Inſorce attention like deepe harmony;
Where words are ſcarſe, they are ſeldome ſpent in vaine,
For they breath truth, that breath their words in paine.
He that no more muſt ſay, is līen'd more,
Then they whom youth and eafe haue taught to gloſe,
More are mens ends mark'd, then their liues before,
The fetting Sun, and Muſicke is the cloſe

As the laſt taſte of sweetes, is sweeteſt laſt,
Writ in remembrance, more then things long paſt;
Though Richard my liues counſell would not heare,
My deaths ſad tale, may yet vndeafe his eare.

Tor. No, it is ſtopt with other flatt'ring ſounds
As praifes of his ſtate: then there are found
Laſcious Meeters, to whose venom found
The open care of youth doth alwayes līen.

Report of ſashions in proud Italy,
Whose manners still our tardie apſh Nation
Limpes after in bafe imitation.

Where doth the world thrufft forth a vanity,
So it be new, there's no respect how vile,
That is not quickly buz'd into his eares:
That all too late comes counſell to be heard,
Where will doth mutiny with wits regard:
Direſt not him, whose way himſelfe will choofe,
Tis breath thou lackt, and that breath will thouloofe.

Gaunt. Me thinkes I am a Prophet new inſpir'd,
And thus expiring, do foretell of him,
His rafh fierce blaze of Ryot cannot laſt,
For violent fires ſoone burne out themſelues,
Small ſhowres laſt long, but ſodaine ſtormes are ſhort.
He tyres betimes, that ſpurs too ſaſt betimes;
With eager feeding, food doth choake the feeder:
Light vanity, inſatiate cormorant,
Conſuming meanes ſoone preyes vpon it ſelſe.
This royall THRONE of Kings, this ſceptred Ile,
This earth of Maiety, this ſeate of Mars,
This other Eden, demy paradife,

This Fortrefſe built by Nature for her ſelſe,
Aginſt inſection, and the hand of warre :

This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious ſtone, ſet in the filuer ſea,

Which ſerues it in the office of a wall,
Or as a Moat defenſive to a houſe,

Aginſt the enuy of leſſe happier Lands,
This bleſſed plot, this earth, this Realme, this England,

This Nurſe, this teeming wome of Royall Kings,

Fear'd by their breed, and famous for their birth,
Renowned for their deeds, as farre from home,
For Chriſtian ſeruice, and true Chiuallrie,
As is the ſepulcher in ſubſtyle ſury

Of the World's ransome, bleſſed Maries Sonne.

This Land of ſuch deere ſoules, this deere-deere Land,

Deere for her reputation through the world,

Is now Leas'd out (I dye pronouncing it)

Like to a Tenement or pelting Farme.
England bound in with the triumphant ſea,
Whole rocky shore beates backe the enuious ſledge
Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with ſhame,
With Inky blottes, and rottel Parchment bonds.

That England, that was wont to conquer others,
Hath made a ſhamefull conquelt of it ſelſe.

Ah! would the ſcandall vaniſh with my life,

How happy then were my enuſing death?

Enter King, Quaene, Aumerle, Buſſy, Greene,
Bagot, Ros, and Willoughby.

Tor. The King is come, deale mildly with his youth,
For young hot Colts, being rag'd, do rage the more.

Qu. How fares our noble Vice-lancaster?

Ric. What comfort man? How iſt with aged Gaunt?

Ga. Oh how that name beſits my composition :

Old Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old :

Within me greeſe hath kept a tedious ſaſt,

And who abſtaynes from meate, that is not gaunt?

For ſleeping England long time haue I watcht,
Watching breeds leanneſſe, leanneſſe is all gaunt.

The pleasure that ſome Fathers ſeede vpon,
Is my diſt ſaſt, I meane my Childrens lookes,
And therein ſaſting, haſt thou made me gaunt:

Gaunt am I for the graue, gaunt as a graue,

Whose hollow wome inherits naught but bones.

Ric. Can ſicke men play ſo nicely with their names?

Gan. No, miſery makes ſport to mocke it ſelſe:

Since thou doſt ſeeke to kill my name in me,

29

Imocke my name (great King) to flatter thee.
Ric. Should dying men flatter thofe that liue ?

Gau. No, no, men liuing flatter thofe that dye.
Rich. Thou new a dying, fayft thou flatter'ft me.

Gau. Oh no, thou dyeft, though I the filler be.
Rich. I am in health, I breath, I fee thee ill.

Gau. Now he that made me, knowes I fee thee ill :
Ill in my felfe to ice, and in thee, feeing ill,
Thy death-bed is no leffer then the Land,
Wherein thou lyeft in reputation fickle,
And thou too care-leffe patient as thou art,
Commit't thy anointed body to the cure
Of thofe Physicians, that firſt wounded thee,
A thoufand flatterers fit within thy Crowne,
Whofe compaſſe is no bigger then thy head,
And yet incaged in ſo ſmall a Verge,
The wafe is no whit leffer then thy Land :
Oh had thy Grandfire with a Prophets eye,
Seene how his ſonnes ſonne, ſhould destroy his ſonnes,
From forth thy reach he would haue laid thy ſhame,
Depofing thee before thou wert poffeſt,
Which art poffeſt now to depofe thy ſelfe.
Why (Coſine) were thou Regent of the world,
It were a ſhame to let his Land by leafe:
But for thy world enioying but this Land,
is it not more then ſhame, to ſhame it ſo ?
Landlord of England art thou, and not King:
Thy flate of Law, is bondſlaue to the law,
And—

Rich. And thou, a lunaticke leane-witted foole,
Prefuming on an Agues priuilege,
Darſt with thy frozen admonition
Make pale our cheeke, chafing the Royall blood
With fury, from his natius refidence ?
Now by my Seates right Royall Maiestie,
Wert thou not Brother to great Edwards ſonne,
This tongue that runs ſo roundly in thy head,
Runſt thou thy head from thy vnreuerent Shoulders.
Gau. Oh ſpare me not, my brothers Edwards ſonne,
For that I was his Father Edwards ſonne :
That blood already (like the Pellican)
Thou haſt tapt out, and drunkenly carows'd.
My brother Glouceſter, plaine well meaning ſoule
(Whom faire befall in heauen 'mongſt happy ſoules)
May be a p[re]ſident, and wittneſſe good,
That thou reſpect ſt not (plilling Edwards blood :
Ioyne with the p[re]ſent fickneſſe that I haue,
And thy vnkindneſſe be like crooked age,
To crop at once a too-long wither'd flowre.
Liuſt in thy ſhame, but dye not ſhame with thee,
Thele words hereafter, thy tormentors bee.
Conuey me to my bed, then to my graue,
Love they to lue, that loue and honor haue.

Rich. And let them dye, that age and fullens haue,
For both haſt thou, and both become the graue.
Tor. I do beſeech your Maiestie impute his words
To wayward ficklineſſe, and age in him :
He loues you on my life, and holds you deere
As Harry Duke of Herford, were he heere.
Rich. Right, you ſay true: as Herfords loue, ſo his;
As theirs, to mine: and all be as it is.

Exit

Rich. Oh spare me not, my brothers Edwards ſonne,
For that I was his Father Edwards ſonne :
That blood already (like the Pellican)
Thou haſt tapt out, and drunkenly carows'd.
My brother Glouceſter, plaine well meaning ſoule
(Whom faire befall in heauen 'mongſt happy ſoules)
May be a p[re]ſident, and wittneſſe good,
That thou reſpect ſt not (plilling Edwards blood :
Ioyne with the p[re]ſent fickneſſe that I haue,
And thy vnkindneſſe be like crooked age,
To crop at once a too-long wither'd flowre.
Liuſt in thy ſhame, but dye not ſhame with thee,
Thele words hereafter, thy tormentors bee.
Conuey me to my bed, then to my graue,
Love they to lue, that loue and honor haue.

Enter Northumberland.

Nor. My Liege, olde Gaunt commands him to your Maiestie.

Rich. What fayes he?

Nor. Nay nothing, all is faſſed :

His tongue is now a ftringleſſe inſtrument,
Words, life, and all, old Lancaſter hath ſpent.

Tor. Be Yorke the next, that muſt be bankrupt ſo,
Though death be poore, it ends a mortall wo.

Rich. The ripeſt fruit firſt fals, and ſo doth he,
His time is ſpent, our pilgrimage muſt be:
So much for that. Now for our Irish warres,
We muſt fupplant thofe rough rug-headed Kernes,
Which lue like venom, where no venom elſe
But onely they, haue priuileged to lue.

And for the ſe great affayres do aske ſome charge.
Towards our aſſiftance, we do ſeize to vs
The plate, coine, reuennewes, and moneables,
Whereof our Vncle Gaunt did ſtand poffeſt.

Tor. How long ſhall I be patient? Oh how long
Shall tender dutie make me ſuffer wrong?
Not Glouſlers death, nor Herfords baniſhment,
Nor Gauntes rebukes, nor Englands private wrongs,
Nor the prevention of poore Bullingbrooke,
About his marriage, nor my owne diſtidence
Haue euer made me ſowre my patient cheeke,
Or bend one wrinkle on my Soueraignes ſace :
I am the laſt of noble Edwards ſonnes,
Of whom thy Father Prince of Wales was firſt,
In warre was neuer Lyon rag'd more fierce :
In peace, was neuer gentle Land be more milde,
Then was that yong and Principely Gentleman,
His ſace thou haſt, for euen ſo look'd he
Accompliſh'd with the number of thy howlers :
But when he frown'd, 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 fathers hand had won:
His hands were guilty of no kindreds blood,
But bloody with the enemies of his kinne:
Oh Richard, Torks is too farre gone with grieſe,
Or elſe he neuer would compare betweene.

Rich. Why Vncle,
What's the matter?

Tor. Oh my Liege, pardon me if you p[le]aſſe if not
I p[le]aſſ'd not to be pardon'd, am content with all :
Seeke you to ſeize, and gripe into your hands
The Royalties and Rights of baniſh'd Herford ?
Is not Gaunt dead? and doth not Herford lue ?
Was not Gaunt iuſt? and is not Harry true ?
Did not the one deferue to haue an heyre?
Is not his heyre a well-defeſuing ſonne?
Take Herfords rights away, and take from time
His Charters, and his cuitomarie rights:
Let not to morrow then inſue to day,
Be not thy ſelfe. For how art thou a King
But by faire ſequence and ſucceſſion?
Now afore God, God forbid I ſay true,
If you do wrongfully ſeize Herfords right,
Call in his Letters Patents that he hath
By his Attrurneyes generall, to ſue
His Liuerie, and denie his offer'd homage,
You plucke a thouſand dangers on your head,
You looke a thouſand well-diſpoſed hearts,
And pricke my tender patience to thofe thoughts
Which honor and allegeance cannot thinke.

Ric. Thinke what you will: we ſeize into our hands,
His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands.

Tor. Ile not be by the while: My Liege farewell,

Whar

30

What will ensue hereof, there's none can tell.

But by badou fes may be underflood,

That their euent can neuer fall out good.

Rich. Go Bushie to the Earle of Wilfleshire freight,
Bid him repaite to vs to Ely house,

To fee this businesſe: to morow next
We will for Ireland, and 'tis time, I trow;

And we create in abſence of our ſelſe

Our Vncle Yorke, Lord Gouernor of England:
For he is iuſt, and always lou'd vs well.

Come on our Queene, to morrow muſt we part,

Be merry, for our time of flay is short.

Exit.

Flouriffe,

Manet North. Willoughby, & Roff.

Nor. Well Lords, the Duke of Lancaſter is dead.

Roff. And liuing too, for now his ſonne is Duke.

Wil. Barely in title, not in reuennew.

Nor. Richly in both, if iuſtice had her right.

Roff. My heart is great: but it muſt break with ſilence,
Er't be disburthen'd with a libetall tongue.

Nor. Nay ſpeake thy mind: & let him ne'r ſpeak more
That ſpeakes thy words againe to do thee harme.

Wil. Tends that thou'lt ſpeake to th'Du. of Hereford,
If it be so, out with it boldly man,

Quicke is mine care to heare of good towards him.

Roff. No good at all that I can do for him,
Vnlesſe you call it good to pitie him,
Bereft and gelded of his patrimonie.

Nor. Now afore heauen, 'tis ſhame ſuch wrongs are
borne,

In him a roiall Prince, and many moe
Of noble blood in this declining Land;
The King is not himselfe, but basely led

By Flatterers, and what they will informe
Meerely in hate 'gainſt any of vs all,
That will the King ſeuerely ſproſecute

'Gainſt vs, our liues, our children, and our heires.'

Roff. The Commons hath the pil'd with greeuous taxes
And quite loft their hearts: the Nobles hath he finde

For ancient quarrels, and quite loft their hearts.

Wil. And daily new exactions are deuis'd,
As blankes, beneuolences, and I wor not what:

But what o'Gods name doth become of this?

Nor. Wars hath not waſt'd it, for war'd he hath not.

But basely yceded vpon comprimize,
That which his Anceſtors atchieu'd with blowes:
More hath he ſpent in peace, then they in warres.

Roff. The Earle of Wilfleshire hath the realme in Farme.

Wil. The Kings growne bankrupt like a broken man.

Nor. Reproach, and diſſolution hangeth ouer him.

Roff. He hath not monie for theſe Irish warres:

(His burthenous taxations notwithſtanding)
But by the robbing of the banifh'd Duke.

Nor. His noble Kinsman, most degenerate King:

But Lords, we heare this ſeaſeſull tempeſt ſing,

Yet ſeeke no ſhelter to auoid the ſtorme:
We ſee the winde fit ſore vpon our ſalles,
And yet we ſtrike not, but ſecurely perſiſh.

Roff. We ſee the very wracke that we muſt ſuffer,
And vnauoied is the danger now

For ſuffering ſo the cauſes of our wracke.

Nor. Not ſo: euen through the hollow eyes of death,
I ſpie life peering: but I dare not ſay

How neere the tidings of our comfort is.

Wil. Nay let vs ſhare thy thoughts, as thou doſt ours

Ref. Be confident to ſpeake Northumberland,
We three, are but thy ſelſe, and ſpeaking ſo,

Thy words are but as thoughts, therefore be bold.

Nor. Then thus: I haue from Porte Blan

A Bay in Britaine, recei'd intelligence,
That Harry Duke of Herford, Ramald Lord Cobham,
That late broke from the Duke of Exeter,
His brother Archbifhop, late of Canterbury.

Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir John Rainſton,
Sir John Norberie, Sir Robert Waterton, & Francis Quoin,
All theſe well furniſh'd by the Duke of Britaine,
With eight tall ſhips, three thousand men of warre
Are making hither with all due expediencie,
And ſhortly meane to touch our Northernne ſhore:

Perhaps they had ere this, but that they ſlay
The firſt departing of the King for Ireland.

If then we ſhall ſhake off our ſlauiſh yake,
Impe out our drooping Countries broken wing,

Redeeme from broaking pawne the blemiſh'd Crowne,
Wipe off the duſt that hides our Scepters gilt,
And make high Maieſtie looke like it ſelſe,

Away with me in poſt to Raunespurgh,
But if you faint, as fearing to do ſo,
Stay, and be ſecret, and my ſelſe will go.

Ref. To horſe, to horſe, vrgc doubts to them ſ fear.

Wil. Hold out my horſe, and I will firſt be there.

Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Queene, Bushy, and Bagot.

Bush. Madam, your Maieſty is too much ſad,
You promis'd when you parted with the King,
To lay aſide ſelſe-harming heauineſſe,
And entertaine a cheerefull diſpoſition.

Qu. To pleafe the King, I did: to pleafe my ſelſe
I cannot do it: yet I know no cauſe

Why I should welcome ſuch a gueſt as greeſe,
Saue bidding farewell to ſo ſweet a gueſt

As my ſweet Richard; yet againe me thinkes,
Some vnborne ſorrow, ripe in fortunes wombe
Is comming towards me, and my inward ſoule
With nothing trembles, at something it greeues,
More then with parting from my Lord the King.

Bush. Each ſubſtance of a greeſe hath twenty ſhadows
Which ſhewes like greeſe it ſelſe, but is not ſo:
For ſorrowes eye, glazed with blinding teares,
Diuides one thing intire, to many obiects,
Like perſpectiues, which rightly gaz'd upon
Shew nothing but confusion, ey'd awry,
Diftinguſh forme: ſo your ſweet Maieſtie
Looking awry vpon your Lords departure,
Finde ſhapes of greeſe, more then himſelſe to waile,
Which look'd on as it is, is naught but ſhadows
Of what it is not: then thrice-gracious Queene,
More then your Lords departure weep not, more not
Or if it be, 'tis with ſalſe ſorrowes eie,
Which for things true, weepe things imaginary.

Qu. It may be ſo; but yet my inward ſoule
Perlwades me it is otherwife: how ere it be,
I cannot but be ſad: ſo heauy ſad,

As though on thinking on no thought I thinke,
Makes me with heauy nothing faint and ſhrinke.

Bush. 'Tis nothing but conceit (my gracious Lady,)
Queene.

31

Qu. 'Tis nothing leſſe: conceit is still deri'd
From home fore father greeſe, mine is not ſo,
For nothing hath begot my ſomething greeſe,
Or ſomething, hath the nothing that I greeue,
Tis in reueruion that I do poſſeſſe,
But what it is, that is not yet knowne, what
I cannot name, 'tis nameleſſe woe I wot.
Enter Greene.

Gree. Heauen faue your Maieſty, and wel met Gentle-
I hope the King is not yet ſhiſt for Ireland. (men:

Qu. Why hop't thou ſo? Tis better hope he is:
For his deſignes kraue haſt, his haſt good hope,
Then wheretore doſt thou hope he is not ſhiſt?

Gre. That he our hope, might haue rety'r'd his power,
and driven into diſpaire an enemies hope,
Who strongly hath fet footing in this Land.
The banisht *Bullingbrooke* repeales himselfe,
And with vp-lifted Armes is ſafe arriu'd
At Raunſburg.

Qu. Now God in heauen forbid.

Gr. O Madam 'tis too true: and that is worſe,
The L.Northumberland, his yong ſonne Henrie Percie,
The Lords of Roffe, Beavmond, and Willobby,
With all their powreſull friends are ſled to him.

Enſt. Why haue you not proclaim'd Northumberland
And the reſt of the reuolted ſaction, Traitors?

Gre. We haue: where-upon the Earle of Worceſter
Hath broke his ſaffe, reſign'd his Stewardſhip,
And at the household ſeruants ſled with him to *Bullinbrook*

Qu. So Greene, thou art the midwife of my woe,
And *bullinbrooke* my ſorrowes diſmall heyre:
Now hath my ſoule brought forth her prodegie,
And I a gasping new delivered mother,
Hauë woe to woe, ſorrow to ſorrow ioyn'd.

Buh. Diſpaire not Madam.

Qu. Who ſhall hinder me?
I will diſpaire, and be at enmitie
With couzening hope; he is a Flatterer,
A Parafite, a keeper backe of death,
Who gently would diſſolue the bands of life,
Which ſalie hopes linger in extremity.

Enter Yorke.

Cre. Heere comes the Duke of Yorke.

Qu. With ſignes of warde about his aged necke,
Oh full of carefull buſineſſe are his lookes?

Uncle, for heauens ſake ſpeake comfortable words:

Tor. Comfort's in heauen, and we are on the earth,
Where nothing liues but croſſes, care and greeſe : :

Your husband he is gone to ſaue farre off,
Whiſt others come to make him looke at home :

Heere am I left to vnder-prop his Land,

Who weake with age, cannot ſupport my ſelfe:
Now comes the ſicke houre that his ſurſet made,

Now ſhall he try his friends that flattered him.

Enter a ſeruant.

Ser. My Lord, your ſonne was gone before I came.

Tor. He was: why ſo: go all which way it will:
The Nobler they are ſled, the Commons they are cold,
And will I feare reuolt on Herfords ſide.

Sita: get thee to Plathie to my ſiſter Gloſter,
Bid her ſend me preſently a thouſand pound,
Hold, take my Ring.

Ser. My Lord. I had ſогot
To tell you, Lordſhip, to day I came by, and call'd there,
But I in ll greeue you to report the reſt.

Tor. What is't knaue?

Ser. An houre before I came, the Durcheſſe di'd.

Tor. Heau'n for his mercy, what a tide of woes
Come rufing on this woſuſl Land at once?

I know not what to do: I would to heauen
(So my vntruth had not prouok'd him to it)
The King had cut off my head with my brothers.

What, are there poſtes diſpatcheſt for Ireland?

How ſhall we do for money for theſe warres ?

Come ſiſter (Cozen I would ſay) pray pardon me.

Go fellow, get thee home, poouide some Carts,

And bring away the Armour that is there,

Gentlemen, will you muſter men?

If I know how, or which way to order theſe affaires

Thus disorderly thraſt into my hands,

Neuer beleeue me. Both are my kinfmen,

Th' one is my Soueraigne, whom both my oath

And dutie bids defend : th' other againe

Is my kinfman, whom the King hath wrong'd,

Whom conſience, and my kindred bids to right:

Well, ſomewhat we muſt do: Come Cozen,

Ile diſpoſe of you. Gentlemen, go muſter vp your men,

And meet me preſently at Barkley Caſtle:

I ſhould to Plaſhy too: but time will not permit,

All is vneuen, and euery thing is left at fix and ſeuen. Exit

Buh. The winde ſits faire for newes to go to Ireland,

But none returnes: For vs to levy power

Proportionable to th' enemy, is all impoſſible.

Gr. Befides our neereeneſſe to the King in loue,
Is neere the hate of thofe loue not the King.

Ba. And that's the wauering Commons, for their loue
Lies in their purſes, and who ſo empties them,

By ſo much ſiſt their hearts with deadly hate.

Buh. Wherein the king ſands generally condemn'd

Bag. If iudgement lye in them, then ſo do we,

Because we haue beene euer neere the King.

Gr. Well: I will for ſe refuge ſtraight to Briftoll Caſtle,
The Earle of Wilſhire is alreadye there.

Buh. Thither will I with you, for little office

Will the hatefull Commons performe for vs,

Except like Curres, to teare vs all in peeces :

Will you go along with vs?

Bag. No, I will to Ireland to his Maieſtie:
Farewell, if hearts prefages be not vaine,
We three here part, that neu'r ſhall meete againe.

Bu. That's as Yorke thriues to beate back *Bullinbrooke*

Gr. Alas poore Duke, the taske he vndertakes

Is numbring ſands, and drinking Oceans drie,

Where one on his ſide fights, thouſands will flye.

Buh. Farewell at once, for once, for all, and euer.

Well, we may meete againe.

Bag. I feare me neuer.

Exit.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter the Duke of Hereford, and Northumberland.

Bul. How farre is it my Lord to Berkley now?

Nor. Beleeue me noble Lord,
I am a ſtranger here in Glouſterſhire,
Theſe high wilde hilles, and rough vneuen waies,
Drawes out our miles, and makes them wearisome:
And yet our faire diſcourse hath beene as sugar,

Mak in

The first Part of Henry the Sixt.

104

Lawyer. Vnleſſe my Studie and my Bookes be falſe,
The argument you held, was wrong in you;
In ſigne whereof, I pluck a white Rofe too.

Torke. Now Somerset, where is your argument?

Som. Here in my Scabbard, meditating, that
Shall dye your white Rofe in a bloody red.

Tork. Meane time your cheeks do counterfeit our Rofes:
For pale they looke with ſeaſe, as witneſſing
The truth on our ſide.

Som. No Plantagenet :

'Tis not for ſeaſe, but anger, that thy cheekes
Bluſh for pure ſhame, to counterfeit our Rofes,
And yet thy tongue will not confelle thy error.

Torke. Hath not thy Rofe a Canker, Somerset?

Som. Hath not thy Rofe a Thorne, Plantagenet ?

Tork. I, Sharpe and piercing to maintaine his truth,
Whiles thy confuming Canker eates his falſehood.

Som. Well, Ile find friends to weare my bleeding Rofes,
That ſhall maintaine what I haue ſaid is true,
Where falſe Plantagenet dare not be ſeene.

Torke. Now by this Maiden Bloſſome in my hand,
I ſcorne thee and thy fashion, peuiffh Boy.

Suff. Turne not thy ſcornes this way, Plantagenet.

Torke. Prowd Poole, I will, and ſcorne both him and
thee.

Suff. Ile turne my part thereof into thy throat.

Som. Away, away, good William de la Poole,
We grace the Yeoman, by converſing with him.

Warw. Now by Gods will thou wrong't him, Somerset:
His Grandfather was Lyonel Duke of Clarence,
Third Sonne to the third Edward King of England:
Spring Crefleſſe Yeomen from ſo deepe a Root?

Torke. He beares him on the place's Prieuledge,
Or durſt not for his krauen heart ſay thus.

Som. By him that made me, Ile maintaine my words
On any Plor of Ground in Chriſtendome.

Was not thy Father, Richard, Earle of Cambridge,

For Treſaon executed in our late Kings dayes ?

And by his Treſaon, ſtand ſt not thou attainted,

Corrupted, and exempt from ancient Gentry ?

His Treſpas yet liues guiltie in thy blood,

And till thou be reſtor'd, thou art a Yeoman.
Torke. My Father was attached, not attainted,
Condemn'd to dye for Treſaon, but no Traytor;
And that Ile proue on better men then Somerset,
Were growing time once ripened to my will.
For your partaker Poole, and you your ſelfe,
Ile note you in my Booke of Memorie,
To ſcourge you for this apprehension :
Looke to it well, and ſay you are well warn'd.

Som. Ah, thou ſhalt finde vs ready for thee ſill :
And know vs by theſe Colours for thy ſoes,
For theſe, my friends in ſpight of thee ſhall weare.

Tork. And by my Soule, this pale and angry Rofe,
As Cognizance of my blood-drinking hate,
Will I for euer, and my Faſtion weare,
Vntill it wither with me to my Graue,
Or flouriſh to the height of my Degree.

Suff. Goe forward, and be choak'd with thy ambition:
And ſo farwell, vntill I meet thee next. Exit.

Som. Haue with thee Poole : Farwell ambitious Richard.
Torke. How I am brau'd, and muſt perſorce endure
it?

Warw. This blot that they obiſt against your House,
Shall be whipt out in the next Parliament,

Call'd for the Truce of Wincheſter and Glouſſter :

And if thou be not then created Torke,
I will not liue to be accounted Warwicke.
Meane time, in ſignall of my loue to thee,
Ainaſt prowd Somerset, and William Poole,
Will I vpon thy partie weare this Rofe.
And here I prophecie: this brawle to day,
Groune to this ſaction in the Temple Garden,
Shall ſend betweene the Red-Rofe and the White,
A thouand Soules to Death and deadly Night.

Torke. Good Maſter Vernon, I am bound to you,
That you on my behalſe would pluck a Flower.

Ver. In your behalſe ſtill will I weare the fame.

Lawyer. And ſo will I.

Torke. Thanks you, gentle.

Come, let vs ſoure to Dinner: I dare ſay,
This Quarrell will drinke Blood another day.

Exeunt.

Enter Mortimer, brought in a Chayre,
and Taylors.

Mort. Kind Keepers of my weake decaying Age,
Let dying Mortimer here reſt himselfe.

Even like a man new haled from the Wrack,
So fare my Limbes with long Imprifonment:
And theſe gray Locks, the Purſuants of death,
Nefter-like aged, in an Age of Care,
Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer.

Theſe Eyes, like Lampes, whole ſaſting Oyle is ſpent,
Waxe dimme, as drawing to their Exigent.

Weake Shoulders, ouer-borne with burthening Griefe,
And pyth-leſſe Armes, like to a withered Vine,
That droupes his ſappe-leſſe Branches to the ground,
Yet are theſe Feet, whole ſtrength-leſſe ſtay is numme,
(Vnable to ſupport this Lumpe of Clay.)

Swift-winged with deſire to get a Graue,
As witting I no other comfort haue.

But tell me, Keepe, will my Nephew come?

Keepe. Richard Plantagenet, my Lord, will come:
We ſent vnto the Temple, vnto his Chamber,
And anſwer was return'd, that he will come.

Mort. Enough: my Soule ſhall then be ſatisfied.
Poore Gentleman, his wrong doth equall mine.
Since Henry Monmouth firſt began to reigne,
Before whole ſGlory I was great in Armes,
This loathſome ſequeſtration haue I had;
And euen ſince then, hath Richard beene obſeur'd,
Deprin'd of Honor and Inheritance.
But now, the Arbitrator of Despaires,
Iuſt Death, kinde Vmpire of mens miſeries,
With ſweet enlargement doth diſmifle me hence:
I would his troubles likewife were expir'd,
That ſo he might recouer what was loft.

Enter Richard.

Keepe. My Lord, your louing Nephew now is come.

Mor. Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he come?

Rich. I, Noble Vnckle, thus ignobly vs'd,
Your Nephew, late deſpiled Richard, comes.

Mort. Direc't mine Armes, I may embrace his Neck,
And in his Boſome ſpend my latter gaspe.

Oh tell me when my Lippes doe touch his Cheekes,
That I may kindly giue one fainting Kiffle.

And now declare Iweet Stem from Torkes great Stock,
Why didſt thou ſay of late thou wert deſpised?

Rich. First.

105

Rich. First, I shall neane thine aged Back against mine Arme,
And in that cafe, Ile tell thee my Dileafe.
This day in argument vpon a Cafe,
Some words there grew twixt Somerſet and me:
Among which tearmes, he vs'd his lauifh tongue,
And did præbray me with my Fathers death;
Which obloquie let barres before my tongue,
Elle with the like I had requited him.
Therefore good Vnkle, for my Fathers fake,
Therefore good Vnkle, for my Fathers fake,
In honor of a true Plantagenet,
And for Alliance fake, declare the cauſe
My Father, Earle of Cambridge, loſt his Head,
My Father, Earle of Cambridge, loſt his Head,
Mort. That cauſe (faire Nephew) that imprifon'd me,
And hath detayn'd me all my flowring Youth,
Within a loathsome Dungeon, there to pyne,
Was curſed Inſtrument of his deceaſe.

Rich. Dileauer more at large what cauſe that was,
For I am ignorant, and cannot gueſſe.

Mort. I will, if that my fading breath permit me,
And Death approach not, ere my Tale be done.
Henry the Fourth, Grandfather to this King,
Depos'd his Nephew Richard, Edwards Sonne,
The first begotten, and the lawfull Heire
Of Edward King, the Third of that Descent.

During whose Reigne, the Percies of the North,
Finding his Vfurpation moſt vnuiuſt,
Endeavour'd my aduancement to the THRONE.

The realon mou'd these Warlike Lords to this,
Was, for that (young Richard thus remou'd,
Leaning no Heire begotten of his Body)
I was the next by Birth and Parentage:

For by my Mother, I deriued am
From Lionel Duke of Clarence, third Sonne

To King Edward the Third; whereas hee,
From John of Gaunt doth bring his Pedigree,
Being but fourth of that Heroick Lyre.

But marke: as in this haughtie great attempt,
They laboured, to plant the rightfull Heire,
Iloſt my Libertie, and they their Líues.

Long after this, when Henry the Fifth
(Succeeding his Father Bellingbrooke) did reigne;
Thy Father, Earle of Cambridge, then deri'd

from famous Edmund Langley, Duke of Yorke,
Mattingy my Sifter, that thy Mother was;
Again, in pitty of my hard diſtelle,
Leu'd an Army, weening to redeem,
And have inſtall'd me in the Diademe:
But as the reſt, to fell that Noble Earle,
And was beheaded. Thus the Mortimers,
In whom the Title reſt'd, were ſuppreſt.

Rich. Of which, my Lord, your Honor is the laſt.

Mort. True; and thou ſeest, that I no Iſſue haue,
And that my fainting words doe warrant death:
Thou art my Heire; the reſt, I wiſh thee gather:
But yet be wary in thy studious care.

Rich. Thy graue admoniſhments preuayle with me;
But yet me thinkes, my Fathers execution
Was nothing leſſe then bloody Tyranny.

Mort. With ſilence, Nephew, be thou politick,
Strong fixed is the Houſe of Lancaſter,
And like a Mountaine, not to be remou'd.

But now thy Vnkle is remouing hence,
As Princes doe their Courts, when they are cloy'd
With long continuance in a fetled place.

Rich. O Vnkle, would some part of my young yceeres
Might but redeem the paſſage of your Age.

Mort. Thou do'st then wrong me, as y flatterer doth,
Which giueth many Wounds, when one will kill.
Mourne not, except thou forrow for my good,
Onely giue order for my Funerall.
And ſo farewell, and faire be all thy hopes,
And p[ro]ſperous be thy Life in Peace and Warre.

Rich. And Peace, no Warre, befall thy parting Soule.

In Prifon haſt thou ſpent a Pilgrimage,
And like a Hermite ouer-paſt thy dayes,
Well, I will locke his Councell in my Breſſ,
And what I doe imagine, let that reſt.

Keepers conuey him hence, and I my ſelfe
Will fee his Buryall better then his Life.

Here dyes the duskie Torch of Mortimer,
Choakt with Ambition of the meaner fort.
And for thofe Wrongs, thofe bitter Injuries,
Which Somerſet hath offer'd to my Houſe,
I doubt not, but with Honor to redreſſe.

And therefore haſſe I to the Parliament,
Eyther to be reſtored to my Blood,

Or make my will th'aduantage of my good.

Exit.

Exit.

## Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Flourish. Enter King, Exeter, Gloſter, Winchefter, Warwick,
Somerset, Suffolk, Richard Plantagenet. Gloſter offers
to put up a Bill: Winchefter Snatches it, seares it.

Winch. Com't thou with deepe premeditated Lines?
With written Pamphlets, ſtudiously deuis'd?

Humeſey of Gloſter, if thou canſt accuſe,
Or ought intend't to lay vnto my charge,
Doe it without inuention, ſuddenfly,
As I with ſudden, and extemporall ſpeech,
Purpofe to anſwer what thou canſt obieſt.

Glo. Prefumptuous Prieſt, this place commands my patièce,
Or thou ſhould'ſt finde thou haſt dis-honor'd me.

Thinke not, although in Writing I preferr'd
The manner of thy vile outragious Crymes,
That therefore I haue forg'd, or am not able
Verbatim to rehearſe the Methode of my Penne.

No Prelate, ſuch is thy audacious wickedneſſe,
Thy lewd, peſſiferous, and diſſenſious pranckſ,
As very Infants prattle of thy pride.

Thou art a moſt pernicious Vſurer,
Froward by nature, Enemie to Peace,
Lafciuious, wanton, more then well beſeemes
A man of thy Proſeffion, and Degree.

And for thy Trecherie, what's more manifeſt?
In that thou layd'ſt a Trap to take my Life,
As well at London Bridge, as at the Tower.

Befide, I feare me, if thy thoughts were ſifted,
The King, thy Soueraigne, is not quite exempt
From enuious malice of thy ſwelling heart.

Winch. Gloſter, I doe defie thee. Lords vouchſaſe
To giue me hearing what I ſhall reply.

If I were coneuous, ambitious, or perueſſe,
As he will haue me: how am I ſo poore?

Or how haps it, I ſeeke not to aduance
Or rayſe my ſelſe, but keepe my wonted Calling.

And for Diffention, who preferreth Peace
More then I doe? except I be prouok'd.

No, my good Lords, it is not that offends,
It is not that, that hath incens'd the Duke:

It is becauſe no one ſhould ſway but hee,
No one, but hee, ſhould be about the King;
And that engenders Thunder in his breaſt,

And

106

And makes him rare these Accufations forth.
But he shall know I am as good.

Gloſt. As good?

Thou Baſtard of my Grandfather.

Winch. I, Lordly Sir: for what are you, I pray,

But one imperious in anothers Throre ?

Gloſt. Am I not Proteſtor, ſawcie Prieſt ?

Winch. And am not I a Prelate of the Church ?

Gloſt. Yes, as an Out-law in a Castle keepes,

And wſeth it, to patronage his Theft.

Winch. Vnreuerent Gloſeſter.

Gloſt. Thou art reuerent,

Touching thy Spirituall Function, not thy Life.

Winch. Rome ſhall remedie this.

Warw. Roame thither then.

My Lord, it were your dutie to forbeare.

Som. I, fee the Bifhop be not ouer-borne:
Me thinkes my Lord ſhould be Religious,
And know the Office that belongs to ſuch.

Warw. Me thinkes his Lordſhip ſhould be humbler,
It fitted not a Prelate ſo to plead.

Som. Yes, when his holy State is toucht ſo neere.

Warw. State holy, or vnhallow'd, what of that?

Is not his Grace Proteſtor to the King?

Rich. Plantagenet I fee muſt hold his tongue,
Leaſt it be ſaid, Speake Sirrha when you ſhould :
Muſt your bold Verdiſt enter talke with Lords ?
Elſe would I haue a fling at Winchefter.

King. Vnckles of Gloſter, and of Winchefter,
The ſpeciall Watch-men of our Englifh Weale,
I would preuayle, if Prayers might preuayle,
To ioyne your hearts in loue and amitie.

Oh, what a Scandall is it to our Crowne,
That two ſuch Noble Peeres as ye ſhould iarre?

Beleeke me, Lords, my tender yeeres can tell,
Ciuil diffention is a viperous Worme,

That gnawes the Bowels of the Common-wealth.

A noſſe within, Downe with the
Tawny-Coats.

King. What tumule's this?

Warw. An Vpreore, I dare warrant,
Begun through malice of the Bishops men.

A noſſe againe, Stones, Stones.

Enter Maior.

Maior. Oh my good Lords, and vertuous Henry,
Pitty the Citie of London, pitty vs :
The Bifhop, and the Duke of Gloſters men,
Forbidden late to carry any Weapon,
Haue fill'd their Pockets full of peeble ſtones;
And banding themſelues in contrary parts,
Doe pelt ſo ſaft at one anothers Pate,

That many haue their giddy braynes knockt out :
Our Windows are broke downe in euery Street,
And we, for ſeare, compell'd to ſhut our Shops.

Enter in skirnill with bloody Pater.

King. We charge you, on allegiance to our ſelſe,
To hold your flaungring hands, and keepe the Peace:
Pray' Vnckle Gloſter mittigate this ſtrife.

1. Serving. Nay, if we be forbidden Stones, wee'le fall to it with our Teeth.

2. Serving. Doe what ye dare, we are as refolute.

Skirnill againe.

Gloſt. You of my household, leaue this peecuif broyle,
And let this vnaccuſtom'd fight afide.

3. Seru. My Lord, we know your Grace to be a man
Inſuence, and vpright; and for your Royall Birth,
Inferior to none, but to his Maieſtie:

And ere that we will ſuffer ſuch a Prince,
So kindne a Father of the Common-wealth,
To be diſgraced by an Inke-horne Mate,
Wee and our Wiues and Children all will fight,
And haue our bodyes ſlaughtred by thy foes.

1. Seru. I, and the very parings of our Nayles
Shall pitch a Field when we are dead.

Begin againe.

Gloſt. Stay, stay, I say:

And if you loue me, as you ſay you doe,
Let me perſwade you to forbeare a while.

King. Oh, how this diſcord doth afflict my Soule,
Can you, my Lord of Winchefter, behold
My ſhigbes and teares, and will not once relent ?
Who ſhould be pittifull, if you be not ?
Or who ſhould ſtudy to preferre a Peace,
If holy Church-men take delight in broyles?

Warw. Yeed my Lord Proteſtor, yeeld Winchefter,
Except you meane with obſtinate repulſe
To ſlay your Soueraigne, and deſtroy the Realme,
You fee what Mifchieſe, and what Murther too,
Hath beene enaſted through your enmity:
Then be at peace, except ye thirtſt for blood.

Winch. He ſhall ſubmit, or I will neuer yeeld,

Gloſt. Compaſſion on the King commands me floups,
Or I would fee his heart out, ere the Prieſt
Should euer get that priuilege of me,

Warw. Behold my Lord of Winchefter, the Duke
Hath banifht moodie diſcontented fury,
As by his ſmoothed Browes it doth appeare :
Why looke you fill ſo ſterne, and tragicall ?

Gloſt. Here Wineheſter, I offer thee my Hand,

King. Fie Vnckle Beauford, I haue heard you preach:
That Malice was a great and grieuous finne:
And will not you maintaine the thing you teach?
But preuqe a chieſe offendor in the fame.

Warw. Sweet King: the Bifhop hath a kindly gyrd:
For ſhame my Lord of Winchefter relent :

What, ſhall a Child inſtruſt you what to do?

Winch. Well, Duke of Gloſter, I will yeeld to thee
Loue for thy Loue, and Hand for Hand I giue.
Gloſt. I, but I ſeare me with a hollow Heart.
See here my Friends and louing Countrie men,
This token ferueth for a Flagge of Truce,
Betwixt our ſelues, and all our followers :
So helpe me God, as I diſſemble not.

Winch. So helpe me God, as I intend it not.

King. Oh louing Vnckle, kinde Duke of Gloſter,
How ioyfull am I made by this Contract,
Away my Maſters, trouble vs no more,

But ioyne in friendſhip, as your Lords haue done,

1. Seru. Content, Ile to the Surgeons.

2. Seru. And so will I.

3. Seru. And I will fee what Phyſick the Tauernes ſo
ſords. Exeunt.

Warw. Accept this Scrowle, moſt gracious Soueraigne,
Which in the Right of Richard Plantagenet,
We doe exhibite to your Maieſtie.

Glo. Well vrg'd, my Lord of Warwick: for sweet Prince
And if your Grace marke euery circumſtance,
You haue great reaſon to doe Richard right,
Especially for thofe occasions

At Eltram Place I told your Maieſtie,

King. And

107

King. And those occasions, Vnckle, were of force:
Therefore my louing Lords, our pleasure is,
That Richard be restored to his Blood,
Warn. Let Richard be restored to his Blood,

Warn. Let Richard be restored to his Blood,
So shall his Fathers wrongs be recompenc't.
Winch. As will the reft, so willeth Winchefter.

Winch. As will the reft, so willeth Winchefter.
King. If Richard will be true, not that all alone,
But all the whole Inheritance I giue,
That doth belong vnto the House of Torke,
From whence you spring, by Lineall Defcent.

Rich. Thy humble feruant vowes obedience,
And humble feruice, till the point of death.
Kmg. Stoope then, and fet your Knee againft my Foot,
And in reguerdon of that dutie done,
Igyrt thee with the valiant Sword of Torke:
Rife Richard, like a true Plantagenet,
And rife created Princely Duke of Torke.

Rich. And so thrive Richard, as thy foes may fall,
And as my dutie springs, so perifh they,
That grudge one thought againft your Maiefty.
All. Welcome high Prince, the mighty Duke of Torke.
Sam. Perifh bafe Prince, ignoble Duke of Torke.
Gloft. Now will it beft auale your Maieftie,
To croffe the Seas, and to be Crown'd in France:
The prefence of a King engenders loue
Amongst his Subieſts, and his loyall Friends,
As it diſanimates his Enemies.

Kmg. Stoope then, and fet your Knee againſt my Foot,
And in reguerdon of that dutie done,
Igyrt thee with the valiant Sword of Torke:
Rife Richard, like a true Plantagenet,
And rife created Princely Duke of Torke.

Rich. And so thrive Richard, as thy foes may fall,
And as my dutie springs, so perifh they,
That grudge one thought againſt your Maiefty.
All. Welcome high Prince, the mighty Duke of Torke.

Rich. And so thrive Richard, as thy foes may fall,
And as my dutie springs, so perifh they,
That grudge one thought againſt your Maiefty.
All. Welcome high Prince, the mighty Duke of Torke.
Sam. Perifh bafe Prince, ignoble Duke of Torke.
Gloft. Now will it beſt auale your Maieftie,
To croſſe the Seas, and to be Crown'd in France:
The prefence of a King engenders loue
Amongst his Subieſts, and his loyall Friends,
As it diſanimates his Enemies.

Rich. Welcome high Prince, the mighty Duke of Torke.
Sam. Perifh bafe Prince, ignoble Duke of Torke.
Gloft. Now will it beſt auale your Maieftie,
To croſſe the Seas, and to be Crown'd in France:
The prefence of a King engenders loue
Amongst his Subieſts, and his loyall Friends,
As it diſanimates his Enemies.

Rich. When Gloſter fayes the word, King Henry goes,
For friendly counſaile cuts off many Foes.
Gloſt. Your Ships already are in readineſſe.
Senet. Flourifh. Exeunt.

Manet Exetor.

Manet Exetor.

Exet. I, we may march in England, or in France,
Not feeing what is likely to enfue:
This late diffention growne betwixt the Peeres,
Burnes vnder fained athes of forg'd loue,
And will at laſt breake out into a flame,
As feltred members rot but by degree,
Till bones and flesh and finewes fall away,
So will this bafe and enuious difford breed.
And now I feare that fatall Prophecie,
Which in the time of Henry, nam'd the Fift,
Was in the mouth of every fuking Babe,
That Henry borne at Monmouth ſhould winne all,
And Henry borne at Windfor, loofe all :
Which is ſo plaine, that Exetor doth withif,
His dayes may finifh, ere that hapleſſe time.

His dayes may finifh, ere that hapleſſe time.
Exit.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Pucell diſguis'd, with foure Souldiors with
Sacks upon their backs.

Pucell. These are the Citie Gates, the Gates of Roan,
Through which our Pollicy muſt make a breach.
Take heed, be wary how you place your words,
Take like the vulgar ſort of Market men,
That come to gather Money for their Corne.
If we haue entrance, as I hope we ſhall,
And that we finde the flouthfull Watch but weake,
Ile by a figne gue notice to our friends,
That Charles the Dolphin may encounter them.

Souldier. Our Sacks ſhall be a meane to lacke the City,
And we be Lords and Rulers ouer Roan,
Therefore wee'le knock.
Knock.

Watch. Che la.
Pucell. Peafans la poureue gens de France,
Poore Market folkes that come to fell their Corne.
Watch. Enter, goe in, the Market Bell is rung.

Pucell. Now Roan, Ile ſhake thy Bulwarkes to the
ground.
Exeunt.

Enter Charles, Baſtard, Alarfon.
Charles. Saint Dennie bleſſe this happy Stratageme,
And once againe wee'le sleepe secure in Roan.
Baſtard. Here entred Pucell, and her Praſtants :
Now ſhe is there, how will ſhe ſpecifie ?
Here is the beſt and ſafet paſſage in.

Reig. By thrusting out a Torch from yonder Tower,
Which once diſcern'd, ſhewes that her meaning is,
No way to that (for weakneſſe) which ſhe entred.
Enter Pucell on the top, thrusting out a
Torch burning.

Reig. By thrusting out a Torch from yonder Tower,
Which once diſcern'd, ſhewes that her meaning is,
No way to that (for weakneſſe) which ſhe entred.
Enter Pucell on the top, thrusting out a
Torch burning.
Pucell. Behold, this is the happy Wedding Torch,
That ioyneth Roan vnto her Countreymen,
But burning fatall to the Talbanites.
Baſtard. See Noble Charles, the Beacon of our friend,
The burning Torch in yonder Turret ſtands.
Charles. Now ſhine it like a Commer of Reuenge,
A Prophet to the fall of all our Foes.

Charles. Now ſhine it like a Commer of Reuenge,
A Prophet to the fall of all our Foes.
Reig. Deferre no time, delayes haue dangerous ends,
Enter and cry, the Dolphin, preſently,
And then doe execution on the Watch.
Alarum.

An Alarum. Talbot in an Excursion.

Talb. France, thou ſhalt rue this Treaſon with thy teares,
If Talbot but furuiue thy Trecherie.
Pucell. That Witch, that damned Sorcereſſe,
Hath wrought this Helliſh Mifchieſe vnawares,
That hardly we eſcap't the Pride of France.
Exit.

An Alarum: Excursions. Bedford brought
in ſicke in a Chayre.

Enter Talbot and Burgonie without: within, Pucell,
Charles, Baſtard, and Reigne on the Walls.

Pucell. God morrow Gallants, want ye Corn for Bread?
I thinke the Duke of Burgonie will ſaſt,
Before hee'le buy againe at ſuch a rate.
Twas full of Darnell: doe you like the taſte ?

Burg. Scoſſe on vile Fiend, and ſhameleſſe Curtizan,
I truſt ere long to choake thee with thine owne,
And make thee curſe the Harueſt of that Corne.

Charles. Your Grace may ſtarue (perhaps) before that
time.

Charles. Your Grace may ſtarue (perhaps) before that
time.
Beda. Oh let no words, but deedes, reuenge this Trea-
ſon.

Beda. What will you doe, good gray-beard?
Breake a Launce, and runne a-ilt at Death,
Within a Chayre.

Talb. Foule Fiend of France, and Hag of all deſpight,
Incompaſs'd with thy luſtfull Paramours,
Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant Age,
And twit with Cowardife a man halſe dead ?
Damsell, Ile haue a bowt with you againe,
Or eſſe let Talbot perſh with this ſhame.

Talb. Foule Fiend of France, and Hag of all deſpight,
Incompaſs'd with thy luſtfull Paramours,
Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant Age,
And twit with Cowardife a man halſe dead ?
Pucell. Are ye ſo hot, Sir: yet Pucell hold thy peace,
If Talbot doe but Thunder, Raine will follow.

Pucell. Are ye ſo hot, Sir: yet Pucell hold thy peace,
If Talbot doe but Thunder, Raine will follow.
They whiſper together in counſell.

God speed the Parliament: who shall be the Speaker?

Talb. Dare

109

French March.

Now in the Rereward comes the Duke and his :
Fortune in favor makes him lagge behinde.
Summon a Parley, we will talke with him.

Trumpets found a Parley.

Charles. A Parley with the Duke of Burgonie.

Burg. Who craues a Parley with the Burgonie?

Puell. The Princely Charles of France, thy Countrey-
man.

Burg. What sayt thou Charles ? for I am marching
hence.

Charles. Speake Puell, and enchaunt him with thy
words.

Puell. Braue Burgonie, vndoubted hope of France,
Stay, let thy humble Hand-maid speake to thee.

Burg. Speake on, but be not ouer-tedious.

Puell. Looke on thy Country, look on fertile France,
And see the Cities and the Townes defac't,

By wafting Ruine of the cruell Foe,
As looks the Mother on her lowly Babe,
When Death doth clofe his tender-dying Eyes.

See, see the pining Maladie of France :

Behold the Wounds, the most vnnaturall Wounds,
Which thou thy felfe haft giuen her wofull Breft.

Oh turne thy edged Sword another way,
Strike thofe that hurt, and hurt not thofe that helpe :

One drop of Blood drawne from thy Countries Bofome,
Should grieue thee more then the streames of forraine gore.

Returne thee therefore with a cloud of Teares,
And waſh away thy Countries ſtayned Spots.

Burg. Either ſhe be wbitheft me with her words,
Or Nature makes me suddenly relent.

Puell. Besides, all French and France exclaimes on thee,
Doubling thy Birth and lawfull Progenie.

Who ioyn't thou with, but with a Lordly Nation,
That will not truſt thee, but for profits ſake ?

When Talbot haſt feet footing once in France,
And fashion'd thee that Inſtrument of Ill,

Who then, but Englifh Henry, will be Lord,
And thou by thrust out, like a Fugitive?

Call we to minde, and marke but this for proofe:
Was not the Duke of Orleance thy Foe ?

And was he not in England Prifoner ?

But when they heard he was thine Enemie,
They ſet him free, without his Ranſome pay'd,
In ſpight of Burgonie and all his friends.

See then, thou fight'ft againſt thy Countreymen,
And ioyn't with them will be thy ſlaughter-men.

Come, come, returne; returne thou wandering Lord,
Charles and the reſt will take thee in their armes.

Burg. I am vanquified :

These haughtine words of hers

Haue batt red me like roaring Cannon-flot,
And made me almoſt yeeld upon my knees.

Forgive me Countrey, and ſweet Countreymen :
And Lords accept this heartie kind embrace.

My Forces and my Power of Men are yours.
So farwell Talbot, Ile no longer truſt thee.

Puell. Done like a Frenchman : turne and turne a-
gaine.

Charles. Welcome braue Duke, thy friendſhip makes
vs fresh.

Bastard. And doth beget new Courage in our Breaths.

Alanſ. Puell hath braely play'd her part in this,
And doth deferue a Coronet of Gold.

Charles. Now let vs on, my Lords,
And ioyne our Powers,
And feeke how we may preiudice the Foe.

Exeunt.

## Scæna Quarta.

Enter the King, Glouceſter, Winchefter, Yorke, Suffolke,
Somerſet, Warwicke, Exeter : To them, with
his Souldiers, Talbot.

Talb. My gracious Prince, and honorable Peeres,
Hearing of your arriuall in this Realme,
I haue a while giuen Truce vnto my Warres,
To doe my dutie to my Soueraigne.

In figne whereof, this Arme, that hath reclaym'd
To your obedience, ſiftie Fortrefſes,

Twelve Cities, and ſeuen walled Townes of ſtrength,
Befide ſiue hundred Prifoners of ſteemee ;

Lets fall his Sword before your Highneſſe ſeet :

And with ſubmiſſue loyaltie of heart

Aſcribeth the Glory of his Conqueſt got,

First to my God, and next vnto your Grace.

King. Is this the Lord Talbot, Vnkle Glouſeſter,

That hath ſo long beene ſefident in France?

Gloſt. Yes, if it pleafe your Maieſtie, my Liege.

King. Welcome braue Captaine, and victorious Lord.

When I was young (as yet I am not old)
I doe remember how my Father ſaid,

A ſouter Champion neuer handled Sword.

Long ſince we were reſolued of your truth,

Your faithfull ſeruice, and your toyle in Warre :

Yet neuer haue you taſted our Reward,

Or beene reguerdon'd with ſo much as Thanks,

Becauſe till now, we neuer ſaw your face.

Therefore ſtand vp, and for theſe good deſerts,

Where here create you Earle of Shrewsbury,

And in our Coronation take your place,

Senet. Flourisb. Exeunt.

Manet Vernon and Baffet.

Vern. Now Sir, to you that were ſo hot at Sea,
Difgracing of theſe Colours that I weare,
In honor of my Noble Lord of Yorke

Dar't thou mainaine the former words thou ſpak'ſt ?

Baff. Yes Sir, as well as you dare patronage

The enuious barking of your ſawcie Tongue,

Againſt my Lord the Duke of Somerſet.

Vern. Sirrha, thy Lord I honour as he is.

Baff. Why, what is he? as good a man as Yorke.

Vern. Hearke ye: not ſo: in witneſſe take ye that.

Strikes him.

Baff. Villaine, thou knoweſt

The Law of Armes is ſuch,

That who ſo drawes a Sword, 'tis preſent death,
Or eſſe this Blow should broach thy deareſt Bloud.

But Ile vnto his Maieſtie, and craue,

I may haue libertie to venge this Wrong,

When thou haſt ſee, Ile meet thee to thy coſt.

Vern. Well mifcreant, Ile be there as ſoon as you,
And after meete you, sooner then you would.

Exeunt.

Enter

II:O

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter King, Gloucester, Winchefier, Torke, Suffolk, Somerset, Warwicke, Talbot, and Governor Exeter.

Glo. Lord Bishop got the Crowne vpon his head.

Win. God faue King Henry of that name the fixt.

Glo. Now Gouernour of Paris take your oath,
That you elect no other King but him;

That you elect no other King but him;
Effeeme none Friends, but such as are his Friends,
And none your Foes, but such as shall pretend
Malicious praeſifes againſt his State :
This shall ye do, ſo helpe you righteous God.

This shall ye do, so helpe you righteous God.
Malicious praeſifes againſt his State :

This shall ye do, so helpe you righteous God.
Effeeme none Friends, but such as are his Friends,

Enter Falstaffe.

Fal. My gracious Soueraigne, as I rode from Calice,
To haſte vnto your Coronation:
A Letter was deliuer'd to my hands,
Writ to your Grace, from th' Duke of Burgundy.

Tal. Shame to the Duke of Burgundy, and thee :
I vow'd (bafe Knight) when I did meete the next,
To teare the Garter from thy Crauens legge,
Which I haue done, becaufe (vnworthily)
Thou was't iſtalled in that High Degree.
Pardon me Princely Henry, and the reſt :

This Daftard, at the battell of Poiliers,
When (but in all) I was fixe thousand ſtrong,
And that the French were almoſt ten to one,
Before we met, or that a ſtroke was giuen,
Like to a truſtie Squire, did run away.

In which aſſault, we loft twelue hundred men.

My ſelſe, and diuers Gentlemen beſide,
Were these ſurpriz'd, and taken prifoners.

Then iudge (great Lords) if I haue done amiſse:
Or whether that ſuch Cowards ought to weare
This Ornament of Knighthood, yea or no?

Glo. To ſay the truth, this fact was infamous,
And ill befeeming any common man;
Much more a Knight, a Captaine, and a Leader.

Tal. When firſt this Order was ordain'd my Lords,
Knights of the Garter were of Noble birth;
Valiant, and Vertuous, full of haughtrie Courage,
Such as were growne to credit by the warres :
Not fearing Death, nor ſhrinking for Diftreſſe,
But always refolute, in moſt extreames.

He then, that is not furniſh'd in this ſort,
Doth but vſurp e the Sacred name of Knight,
Prophaning this moſt Honourable Order,
And ſhould (if I were worthy to be Iudge)

Be quite degraded, like a Hedge-borne Swaine,
That doth prefume to boaſt of Gentle blood.

K. Staine to thy Countrymen, thou hear't thy doom:
Be packing therefore, thou that was't a knight :
Henceforth we baniſh thee on paine of death.
And now Lord Protector, view the Letter
Sent from our Vnkle Duke of Burgundy.

Glo. What meanes his Grace, that he hath chaung'd
his Stile ?

No more but plaine and bluntly ? (To the King.)

Hath he ſorg ſe he is his Soueraigne ?

Or doth this churliſh Superſcription
Pretend ſome alteration in good will ?

What's heere ? I haue upon eſpeciall cauſe,

Mau'd with compassion of my Countries wrackes,
Together with the pittifull complaints

Of ſuch as your oppression feedes vpon,

Forſaken your pernitiouſ Faſtion,
And ioyn'd with Charles, the rightfull king of France,

O monſtrous Treachery: Can this be ſo?

That in alliance, amity, and oathes,

There ſhould be found ſuch ſalſe diſſembling guile?

King. What? doth my Vnkle Burgundy reuole?

Glo. He doth my Lord, and is become your foe.

King. Is that the worſt this Letter doth containe?

Glo. It is the worſt, and all (my Lord) he writes.

King. Why then Lord Talbot there ſhal talk with him.

And give him chafliſement for this abufe.

How ſay you (my Lord) are you not content?

Tal. Content, my Liege ? Yes: But y come presently,
I ſhould haue begg'd I might haue bene employ'd.

King. Then gather ſtrength, and march vnto him
ſtraight:

Let him perceiue how ill we brooke his Treason,
And what offence it is to ſlout his Friends,

Tal. I go my Lord, in heart deſiring ſtill
You may behold conſuption of your Foes.

Enter Vernon and Baffit.

Ver. Grant me the Combate, gracious Soueraigne,
Baf. And me (my Lord) grant me the Combate too.

Torke. This is my Seruant, heare him Noble Prince,
Som. And this is mine (weet Henry) fauour him.

King. Be patient Lords, and give them leaue to ſpeake.

Say Gentlemen, what makes you thus exclaim,
And wherefore craue you Combate ? Or with whom

Ver. With him (my Lord) for he hath done me wrong.

Baf. And I with him, for he hath done me wrong.

King. What is that wrong, wherof you both complain
First let me know, and then Ile anſwer you.

Baf. Croſſing the Sea, from England into France,
This Fellow heere with enuious carping tongue,

Vpbraided me about the Rofe I weare,
Saying, the ſanguine colour of the Leanes

Did repreſent my Maſters bluthing cheekes :

When ſubbornly he did repugne the truth,
About a certaine queſtion in the Law,

Argu'd betwixt the Duke of Yorke, and him:

With other vile and ignominious tearmes.

In confutation of which rude reproach,

And in defence of my Lords worthineſſe,

I craue the benefit of Law of Armes.

Ver. And that is my petition (Noble Lord)
For though he ſeeme with forſed quentint conceite

To ſet a gloſſe vpon his bold intent,
Yet know (my Lord) I was prouok'd by him,

And he firſt tooke exceptions at this badge,

Pronouncing that the palenſe of this Flower,

Bewray'd the faintneſſe of my Maſters heart.

Torke. Will not this malice Somerſet be left?

Som. Your private grudge my Lord of York, will on,
Though ne're ſo cunningly you ſmother it.

King. Good Lord, what madneſſe rules in braintes
fickemen,

When for so flightr and friuolous a cauſe,
Such factious æmulations ſhall arife ?

Good Cosins both of Yorke and Somerſet,

Quiet your ſelues (I pray) and be at peace.

Torke. Let this diſſention firſt be tried by fight,
And then your Highneſſe ſhall command a Peace.

Som. The quarrell toucheth none but vs alone,
Betwixt our ſelues let vs decide it then.

Torke. There is my pledge, accept it Somerſet.

Ver. Nay, let it reſt where it began at firſt.

Daf.

III

Bass. Confirme it so, mine honourable Lord. I
Glo. Confirme it so ? Confounded be your strike,
And perish ye with your audacious prate,
Preliminary vassals, are you not afham'd
With this immodest clamorous outrage,
To trouble and disburse the King, and Vs ?
And you my Lords, me thinkes you do not well
To beare with their peruerse Obiections :
Much lesse to take occasion from their mouthes,
Torafea a mutiny betwixt your felues.
Let me periwade you take a better course.
Exeunt. It greues his Highnesse,
Good my Lords, be Friends.

King. Come hither you that would be Combatants :
Henceforth I charge you, as you loue our favour,
Quite to forget this Quarrell, and the caufe.
And you my Lords: Remember where we are,
In France, amongst a fickle wauering Nation:
If they perceyue diffention in our lookes,
And that within our felues we disagree;
How will their grudging fromackes be prouok'd
To wilfull Disobedience, and Rebell?
Beſide, What infamy will there arife,
When Forraigne Princes ſhall be certified,
That for a toy, a thing of no regard,
King Henries Peeres, and cheere Nobility,
Deſtroy'd their ſelues, and left the Realme of France?
Oh thinke vpon the Conqueſt of my Father,
My tender yeares, and let vs not forgoe.
That for a trifle, that was bought with blood.
Let me be Vmper in this doubtfull strike:
I fee no reason if I weare this Rofe,
That any one ſhould therefore be ſuſpitious
I more incline to Somerſet, than Yorke:
Both are my kinfmen, and I loue them both.
As well they may vpbray'd me with my Crowne,
Because (forfooth) the King of Scots is Crown'd.
Bix your diſcrections better can periwade,
Then I am able to inſtruct or teach :
And therefore, as we hither came in peace,
Solet vs ſtill continue peace, and loue.
Colin of Yorke, we inſtitute your Grace
To be our Regent in theſe parts of France:
And good my Lord of Somerſet, vnite
Your Troopes of horſemen, with his Bands of fooſe,
And like true Subieſts, ſonnes of your Progenitors,
Go cheerefully together, and digeſt
Your angry Choller on your Enemies.
Our ſelſe, my Lord Protector, and the reſt,
After ſome reſpit, will returne to Calice;
From thence to England, where I hope ere long
To be prefented by your Viftories,
With Charles, Alanſon, and that Traiterous rout.

Exeunt.
Manet Yorke, Warwick, Exeter. Vernon.
War. My Lord of Yorke, I promife you the King
Prettily (me thought) did play the Orator.)
Yorke. And so he did, but yet I like it not,
In that he weares the badge of Somerſet.
War. Tufh, that was but his fancie, blame him not,
I dare prefume (sweet Prince) he thought no harme.
Yorke. And if I wifh he did. But let it reſt,
Other affayres muſt now be managed.
Flourish.
Manet Exeter.
Exeunt.
Well did thou Richard to ſuppreſſe thy voice:
For had the paffions of thy heart burſt out,
I feare we should haue ſeene decipher'd there

More rancorous ſpight, more furious raging broyles,
Then yet can be imagin'd or ſuppos'd :
But how ſoere, no simple man that fees
This iarring diſord of Nobilitie,
This shouldering of each other in the Court,
This factious bandying of their Fauourites,
But that it doth preſage some ill enuent.
'Tis much, when Scepters are in Childrens hands :
But more, when Enuy breeds vnkinde deuifion,
There comes the ruine, there begins conſuſion.
Exit.

Enter Talbot with Trumpe and Drumme,
before Burdeaux.

Talb. Go to the Gates of Burdeaux Trumpeter,
Summon their Generall vnto the Wall.
Enter Generall aloft.
Sounds.

Englifh John Talbot (Captaines) call you forth,
Seruant in Armes to Harry King of England,
And thus he would. Open your Citie Gates,
Be humble to vs, call my Soueraigne yours,
And do him homage as obedient Subieſts,
And Ile withdraw me, and my bloody power.
But if you frowne vpon this proffer'd Peace,
You tempt the fury of my three attendants,
Leane Famine, quattering Steele, and climbing Fire,
Who in a moment, euen with the earth,
Shall lay your flately, and ayre-brauing Towers,
If you forſake the offer of their loue.

Cap. Thou ominous and ſeaſull Owle of death,
Our Nations terror, and their bloody ſeourge,
The period of thy Tyranny approacheth,
On vs thou canſt not enter but by death :
For I protest we are well ſonified,
And ſtrong enough to iſſue out and fight.
If thou retire, the Dolphin well appointed,
Stands with the ſnares of Warre to tangle thee.
On either hand thee, there are ſquadrons pitcht,
To wall thee from the liberty of Flight;
And no way canſt thou turne thee for redreſſe,
But death doth front thee with apparant ſpoyle,
And pale deſtruction meets thee in the face :
Ten thouand French haue tane the Sacrament,
To ryue their dangerous Artillerie
Vpon no Christian ſoule but English Talbot:
Loe, there thou ſtand a breathing valiant man
Of an inuincible vnconquer'd ſpirit :
This is the lateſt Glorie of thy prieſe,
That I thy enemy dew thee withall:
For ere the Glaſſe that now begins to runne,
Finiſh the proceſſe of his ſandy houre,
These eyes that fee thee now well coloured,
Shall fee thee withered, bloody, pale, and dead.

Drum a farre off.

Harke, harke, the Dolphins drumme, a warning bell,
Sings heavy Muſſeke to thy timorous ſoule,
And mine ſhall ring thy diſe departure out.

Exit.

Tal. He Fables not, I heare the enemie :
Our ſome light Horſemen, and perſue their Wings.
O negligent and heedleſſe Discipline,
How are we park'd and bounded in a pale ?
A little Heard of Englands timorous Deere,
Maz'd with a yelping kennell of French Curres.
If we be Englifh Deere, be then in blood,
Not Raſcail-like to fall downe with a pinch,
But rather moodie mad : And desperate Stagges,

Terne

112

Turne on the bloody Hounds with heads of Steele,
And make the Cowards stand aloofe at bay:
Sell every man his life as deere as mine,
And they shall finde deere Deere of vs my Fri ends,
God, and S. George, Talbot and Englands right,
Prosp er our Colours in this dangerous fight.

Enter a Messengër that meets Yorke. Enter Yorke with Trumpet, and many Soldiers.

Yorke. Are not the speedy Scouts return'd againe,
That dog'd the mighty Army of the Dolphin?
Mef. They are return'd my Lord, and giue it out,
That he is march'd to Burdeaux with his power
To fight with Talbot as he march'd along.
By your epyals were discouered
Two mightier Troopes then that the Dolphin led,
Which ioyn'd with him, and made their march for
(Burdeaux

Yorke. A plague vpon that Villaine Somerſet,
That thus delayes my promiſed ſupply
Of horſemen, that were leuied for this ſiſege.
Renowned Talbot doth expect my ayde,
And I am lowted by a Traitor Villaine,
And cannot helpe the noble Cheualier :
God comfort him in this neceſſity :
If he miſcarry, farewell Warres in France.

Enter another Messengër.

2. Mef. Thou Princely Leader of our English ſtrength,
Neuer so needfull on the earth of France,
Spurre to the reſcue of the Noble Talbot,
Who now is girdled with a waſte of Iron,
And hem'd about with grim deſtruction :
To Burdeaux warlike Duke, to Burdeaux Yorke,
Elſe farwell Talbot, France, and Englands honor.

Yorke. O God, that Somerſet who in proud heart
Doth ſtop my Cornets, were in Talbots place,
So ſhould wee faue a valiant Gentleman,
By forſteying a Traitor, and a Coward :
Mad ire, and wrathful ſury makes me weepe,
That thus we dye, while remiſſe Traitors ſleepe.

Mef. O ſend ſome ſuccour to the diſtreft Lord.

Yorke. He dies, we loofe : I breake my warlike word:
We mourne, France ſmiles : We loofe, they dayly get,
All long of this vile Traitor Somerſet.

Mef. Then God take mercy on braue Talbots ſoule,
And on his Sonne yong Iohn, who two houres ſince,
I met in trauaile toward his warlike Father;
This ſeuen yeeres did not Talbot see his ſonne,
And now they meete where both their lines are done.

Yorke. Alas, what ioy shall noble Talbot haue,
To bid his yong ſonne welcome to his Graue :
Away, vexation almost ſtoppes my breath,
That ſundred friends greete in the houre of death.
Lucie farewell, no more my fortune can,
But curſe the cauſe I cannot ayde the man.
Maine, Bloys, Poytiers, and Toures, are wonne away,
Long all of Somerſet, and his delay.
Exit

Mef. Thus while the Vulture of ſedition,
Feedes in the boſome of ſuch great Commanders,
Sleeping negleſion doth betray to loſſe :
The Conqueſt of our ſearſe-cold Conqueror,
That euer-living man of Memorie,
Henrie the ſift: Whileſt they each other croſſe,
Liues, Honours, Lands, and all, hurrie to loſſe.

Enter Somerſet with his Armie.

Som. It is too late, I cannot ſend them now :
This expedit ion was by Yorke and Talbot,
Too rafhly plotted. All our generall force,
Might with a fally of the very Towne
Be buckled with : the ouer-daring Talbot
Hath ſuſſed all his gloſſe of former Honor.
By this vnheedfull, desperate, wilde aduenture :
Yorke fet him on to fight, and dye in ſhame,
That Talbot dead, great Yorke might beare the name.

Cap. Heere is Sir William Lucie, who with me
Set from our ore-matcht forces forth for ayde.

Som. How now Sir William, whether were you ſent?
Lu. Whether my Lord, from bought & fold L. Talbot,
Who ring'd about with bold aduerſitie,
Cries out for noble Yorke and Somerſet,
To beate affayling death from his weake Regions,
And whiles the honourable Captraine there
Drops bloody ſwet from his warre-wearied limbes,
And in aduantage lingring lookes for reſcue,
You his falſe hopes, the truſt of Englands honor,
Keepe off aloofe with worthleſſe emulation :
Let not your priuate diſcord keepe away
The leuied ſuccours that ſhould lend him ayde,
While he renowned Noble Gentleman
Yeeld vp his life vnto a world of oddes.
Orleance the Baſtard, Charles, Burgundie,
Alanſon, Reignard, compaſſe him about,
And Talbot perſiſheth by your default.

Som. Yorke fet him on, Yorke ſhould haue ſent his
ayde.

Luc. And Yorke as ſaſt vpon your Grace exclaimes,
Swearing that you with-hold his leuied hoaſt,
Collected for this expedit ion.

Som. York lyes: He might haue ſent, & had the Horſe
Iowe him little Dutie, and leſſe Loue,
And take ſoule ſcorne to ſawne on him by ſending.

Lu. The fraud of England, not the force of France,
Hath now intrapt the Noble-minded Talbot :
Neuer to England shall he beare his life,
But dies betraid to ſbury your ſtrife.

Som. Come go, I will diſpatch the Horſemen ſtraint
Within fixe houres, they will be at his ayde.

Lu. Too late comes reſcue, he is tane or ſlaine,
For flye he could not, if he would haue ſled:
And flye would Talbot neuer though he might.

Som. If he be dead, braue Talbot then adieu.

Lu. His Fame liues in the world. His Shame in you
Exeunt.

Enter Talbot and his Sonne.

Tal. O yong Iohn Talbot, I did ſend for thee
To tutor thee in ſtratagems of Warre,
That Talbots name might be in thee reuui'd,
When ſapleſſe Age, and weake vnable limbes
Should bring thy Father to his drooping Chaire.
But O malignant and ill-boading Starres,
Now thou art come into a Feast of death,
A terrible and vnauoſed danger :
Therefore deere Boy, mount on my ſwifſte horſe,
And Ile direct thee how thou ſhalt eſcape
By ſodaine flight. Come, dally not, be gone.

Iohn. Is my name Talbot ? and am I your Sonne?
Shall

114

O thou whose wounds become hard fauoured death,
Speake to thy father, ere thou yeeld thy breath,
Braue death by speaking, whither he will or no:
Imagine him a Frenchman, and thy Foe.

Imagine him a Frenchman, and thy Foe.
Poore Boy, he smiles, me thinkes, as who should fay,
Had Death bene French, then Death had dyed to day.
Come, come, and lay him in his Fathers arms,
My spirit can no longer beare these harmes.
Souldiers adieu: I haue what I would haue,
Now my old arms are yong John Talbots graue.

Dyes

Enter Charles, Alanfon, Burgundie, Baillard,
and Pucell.

Char. Had Yorke and Somerset brought rescue in,
We should haue found a bloody day of this.

Baft. How the yong whelpe of Talbots raging wood,
Did flesh his punie-sword in Frenchmens blood.

Puc. Once I encountered him, and thus I said:

Thou Maiden youth, be vanquished by a Maide.
But with a proud Maieisticall high fcorne
He anfuer'd thus: Yong Talbot was not borne

He anfuer'd thus: Yong Talbot was not borne
To be the pillage of a Giglot Wench:
So rushing in the bowels of the French,

So rushing in the bowels of the French,
He left me proudly, as vnworthy fight.

Bur. Doubtlesſe he would haue made a noble Knight:
See where he lyes inheced in the arms
Of the moſt bloody Nurſer of his harmes.

Bur. Hew them to peeces, hack their bones affunder,
Whofe life was Englands glory, Gallia's wonder.

Char. Oh no forbeare : For that which we haue fled
During the life, let vs not wrong it dead.

Enter Lucie.

Lu. Herald, conduct me to the Dolphins Tent,
To know who hath obtain'd the glory of the day.

Char. On what submiſſive meſſage art thou ſent ?

Lucy. Submission Dolphin? Tis a meere French word:

Lucy. Submission Dolphin? Tis a meere French word:
We English Warriours wor not what it means.

I come to know what Prifoners thou haſt tane,
And to furuey the bodies of the dead.

Char. For prifoners askt thou? Hell our prifon is,
But tell me whom thou keek't ?

Luc. But where's the great Alcides of the field,
Valiant Lord Talbot Earle of Shrewsbury ?

Created for his rare ſucceſſe in Armes,
Great Earle of Wathford, Waterford, and Valence,
Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Prechinfield,

Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdon of Alton,
Lord Cromwell of Wingefield, Lord Furniuall of Sheffeild,
The thrice victorious Lord of Falconbridge,

Knight of the Noble Order of S. George,
Worthy S. Michael, and the Golden Fleece,
Great Marshall to Henry the fixt,

Of all his Warres within the Realme of France.

Puc. Heere's a filly ſtately ſile indeede :

The Turke that two and fiftyie Kingdomes hath,
Writes not to tedious a Stile as this.

Him that thou magnifiſt with all theſe Titles,
Stinking and fly-blowne lyes heere at our feete.

Lucy. Is Talbot flaine, the Frenchmens only Scourge,
Your Kingdomes terror, and blacke Nemefis ?

Oh were mine eye-balles into Bullets turn'd,
That I in rage might shoot them at your faces.

Oh, that I could but call theſe dead to life,
It were enough to fright the Realme of France.
Were but his Picture left amongſt you here,

It would amaze the prowdeſt of you all.
Gie me their Bodyes, that I may beare them hence,
And giue them Buriall, as beſeemes their worth.

Pucell. I thinke this vpſtart is old Talbots Ghoſt,
He ſpeakes with ſuch a proud commanding ſpirit:
For Gods ſake let him haue him, to keepe them here,
They would but ſinke, and putrifie the ayre.

Char. Go take their bodies hence.

Lucy. Ile beare them hence: but from their affeſh
bereard

A Phoenix that ſhall make all France affear'd.

Char. So we be rid of them, do with him what ſhall wilt.
And now to Paris in this conquering vaine,
All will be ours, now bloody Talbots flaine.

Exit.

## Scena ſecunda.

### SENNET.

Enter King, Gloeſter, and Exeter.

King. Haue you perus'd the Letters from the Pope,
The Emperor, and the Earle of Arminack?

Glo. I haue my Lord, and their intent is this,
They humbly ſue vnto your Excellence,
To haue a godly peace concluded of,
Betweene the Realmes of England, and of France.

King. How doth your Grace affect their motion ?

Glo. Well (my good Lord) and as the only meane
To ſtop effusion of our Chriſtian blood,
And ſtablish ſquietneſſe on euery ſide,

King. I marry Vnckle, for I always thought
It was both impious and vnnatural,
That ſuch immanity and bloody ſtrife
Should reigne among Proſeffors of one Faith.

Glo. Befide my Lord, the ſooner to effect,
And ſurer binde this knot of amitie,
The Earle of Arminacke neere knit to Charles,
A man of great Authoritie in France,
Proſeffers his only daughter to your Grace,
In marriage, with a large and ſumptuous Downie.

King. Marriage Vnckle? Alas my ycares are yong:
And ſitter is my ſtudie, and my Bookes,
Than wanton dalliance with a Paramour.
Yet call th' Embaſſadors, and as you pleafe,
So let them haue their anſweres euery one:
I ſhall be well content with any chooye
Tends to Gods glory, and my Countries weale.

Enter Winchefter, and three Embaſſadors.

Exet. What, is my Lord of Winchefter install'd,
And call'd vnto a Cardinall's degree ?
Then I perceive, that will be verified
Henry the Fifth did sometime propheſie.
If once he come to be a Cardinall,
Hee'l make his cap coequall with the Crowne.

King. My Lords Embaſſadors, your ſeuerall ſuities
Hae bin confider'd and debated on,
Your purpose is both good and reaſonable :
And therefore are we certainly reſolu'd,
To draw conditions of a friendly peace,

Which

115

Which by my Lord of Wincheste r we meane
Shall be transported pre fently to France.

Glo. And for the proffer of my Lord your Maſter,
I haue inform'd his Highneſſe ſo at large,
As lik ing of the Ladies vertuous giſts,
Her Beauty, and the valew of her Dower,
He doth intend ſhe ſhall be Englands Queene.

King. In argument and proofe of which contraſt,
Bear her this Iewell, pledge of my affection,
And ſo my Lord Protec tor ſee them guarded,
And faſely brought to Dower, wherein ſhip'd
Commit them to the fortune of the ſea.

Exeunt.

Win. Stay my Lord Legate, you shall firſt receiue
The ſumme of money which I promiſed
Should be deliuered to his Holiſſe,
For cloathing me in theſe graue Ornaments.

Legat. I will attend vpon your Lordſhips leyſure,
Wim. Now Wincheste r will not ſubmit, I trow,
Or be inſer iour to the proudeſt Peere;

Humeſey of Gloſter, thou ſhalt well perceiue,
That neither in birth, or for authoritie,
The Bifhop will be ouer-borne by thee :

Ile either make thee ſtoope, and bend thy knee,
Or ſacke this Country with a mutiny.

Exeunt

## Scæna Tertia.

Enter Charles, Burgundy, Alansom, Baſtard,
Reignier, and Ione,

Char. These ne wes (my Lords) may cheere our droo-
ping ſpiri ts:

Tis faid, the ſlout Parifians do reuolt,
And turne againe vnto the warlike French.

Alan. Then march to Paris Royall Charles of France,
And keepe not backe your powers in dalliance.

Pucel. Peace be amouſt them if they turne to vs,
Elle ruine combate with their Pallaces.

Enter Scont.

Scout. Successe vnto our valiant Generall,
And happeinſe to his accomplices.

Char. What tidings ſend our ſcouts? I prethee ſpeak.
Scout. The English Army that diuided was

Into two parties, is now conioyn'd in one,
And meanes to giue you battell preſently.

Char. Somewhat too ſodaine Sirs, the warning is,
But we will preſently prouide for them.

Bur. I truſt the Ghoſt of Talbot is not there:
Now he is gone my Lord, you nee de not ſeare.

Pucel. Of all bafe paſſions, Feare is moſt accuſt.

Command the Conqueſt Charles, it shall be thine:
Let Henry fret, and all the world repine.

Char. Then on my Lords, and France be fortunate.

Exeunt.

Alarums.

Excursions.

Enter Ione de Pucell.

Puc. The Regent conquers, and the Frenchmen flye.
Now helpe ye charming Spelles and Periaps,
And ye choife ſpiri ts that admoniſh me,

And giue me ſigniſes of future accidents.

You ſpeedy helpers, that are ſubſtitutes,

Thunder.

Vnder the Lordly Monarch of the North,
Appeare, and ayde me in this enterprize.

Enter Fiends.

This ſpeedy and quicke appearance argues proofe
Of your accuſtom'd diligence to me.

Now ye Familiar Spirits, that are cull'd
Out of the powerfull Regions vnder earth,

Helpe me this once, that France may get the field.

They walke, and ſpeak not.

Oh hold me not with filenee ouer-long:
Where I was wont to feed you with my blood,
Ile lop a member off, and giue it you,
In earneſt of a further benefit:

So you do condifend to helpe me now.

They hang their heads.

No hope to haue redreſſe? My body ſhall
Pay recompence, if you will graunt my ſuite.

They ſhake their heads.

Cannot my body, nor blood-facriſe,
Intreate you to your wonted furtherance
Then take my foule; my body, foule, and all,
Before that England giue the French the foyle,

They depart.

See, they forſake me. Now the time is come,
That France muſt vale her lofty plumed Creſt,
And let her head fall into Englands lappe.

My ancient Incantations are too weake,
And hell too ſtrong for me to bucke with:

Now France, thy glory droopeth to the duſt.

Exit.

Excursions. Burgundie and Yorke fight hand to
hand. French flye.

Yorke. Dam ſell of France, I thinke I haue you ſaſt,
Vnchaine your ſpiri ts now with ſpelling Charmes,
And try if they can gaine your liberty.

A goodly prize, fit for the diuels grace.

See how the vgly W itselfe doth bend her browes,
As if with Circe, ſhe would change my ſhape.

Puc. Chang'd to a worſer ſhape thou canſt not be:

Yor. Oh, Charles the Dolphin is a proper man,

No ſhape but his can plicaſe your dainty eyes.

Puc. A plaguing miſcheeſe light on Charles, and thee,
And may ye both be ſodainly ſurpriz'd

By bloudy hands, in ſleeping on your beds.

Yorke. Fell banning Hagge, Inchantreſſe hold thy
tongue.

Puc. I prethee giue me leaue to curſe awhile.

Yorke. Curiſe Mifcrea nt, when thou comſt to the ſtake

Exeunt.

Alarum. Enter Suffolke with Margaret
in his hand.

Suff. Be what thou wilt, thou art my prifoner.

Gazes on her.

Oh Faireſt Beautie, do not ſeare, nor flye:

For I will touch thee but with reuerend hands,
I kiffe theſe fingers for eternall peace,
And lay them gently on thy tender ſide.

Who art thou, ſay ? that I may honor thee.

Mar. Margaret my name, and daughter to a King,
The King of Naples, who ſo ſore thou art.

Suff. An Earle I am, and Suffolke am I call'd.

Be not offende d Natur es myracle,

Thou art alotted to be tane by me :

So doth the Swan her downie Signets ſaue,

Oh ſtay:

116

Keeping them prifoner vnderneath his wings :
Yet if this feruile vflage once offend,

Go, and be free againe, as Suffolkes friend.
She is going

Oh flay : I haue no power to let her paffe,
My hand would free her, but my heart fayes no.

As playes the Sunne vpon the glasflie ftaames,
Twinkling another counterfetted beame,

So feemes this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes.
Faine would I woe her, yet I dare not fpcake :

Ile call for Pen and Inke, and write my minde :

Fye De la Pole, disfable not thy felfe:
Haft not a Tongue? Is ſhe not heere?

Wilt thou be daunted at a Womans fight ?

I: Beauties Princely Maiety is fuch,

'Confounds the tongue, and makes the fenſes rough.'

Mar. Say Earle of Suffolke, if thy name be ſo,

What ransome muſt I pay before I paffe?

For I perceiue I am thy prifoner.

Suf. How canſt thou tell ſhe will deny thy ſuite,
Before thou make a triall of her loue ?

M. Why ſpeak'ft thou not? What ransome muſt I pay?

Suf. She's beautifull; and therefore to be-Wooded :

She is a Woman; therefore to be Wonne.

Mar. Wilt thou accept of ransome, yea or no?

Suf. Fond man, remember that thou haſt a wife,

Then how can Margaret be thy Paramour ?

Mar. I were beſt to leaue him, for he will not heare.

Suf. There all is matd : there lies a cooling card.

Mar. He talkes at randon : ſure the man is mad.

Suf. And yet a disſpofation may bee had.

Mar. And yet I would that you would anſwer me:

Suf. Ile win this Lady Margaret. For whom ?

Why for my King: Tuſh, that's a woodeſen thing.

Mar. He talkes of wood : It is ſome Carpenter.

Suf. Yet ſo my fancy may be ſatified,

And peace eſtabliſhed betweene these Realmes.

But there remains a ſcruple in that too :

For though her Father be the King of Naples,

Duke of Anion and Mayne, yet is he poore,

And our Nobility will ſcorne the match.

Mar. Heare ye Captaine ? Are you not at leſurement?

Suf. It ſhall be ſo, diſdaine they ne're ſo much:

Henry is youthfull, and will quickly yeeld.

Madam, I haue a ſecret to reuencal.

Mar. What though I be inthral'd, he ſeems a knight
And will not any way diſhonor me.

Suf. Lady, vouchſafe to liften what I ſay.

Mar. Perhaps I ſhall be refc'u'd by the French,

And then I need not craue his curſeſe.

Suf. Sweet Madam, giue me hearing in a cauſe.

Mar. Tuſh, women haue bene captiuate ere now.

Suf. Lady, wherefore talke you ſo?

Mar. I cry you mercy, 'tis but Quid for Quo.

Suf. Say gentle Princeſſe, would you not ſuppofe

Your bondage happy, to be made a Queene?

Mar. To be a Queene in bondage, is more vile,

Than is a ſlaue, in bafe feruility :

For Princes should be free.

Suf. And ſo shall you,

If happy Englands Royall King be free.

Mar. Why what concerns me his freedome vnto mee ?

Suf. Ile vndertake to make thee Henries Queene,

To put a Golden Scepter in thy hand,

And fet a precious Crowne vpon thy head,

If thou wilt conſiſtend to be my—

Mar. What ?

Suf. His loue.

Mar. I am vnworthy to be Henrie wife.

Suf. No gentle Madam, I vnworthy am

To woe ſo faire a Dame to be his wife,

And haue no portion in the choice my ſelfe.

How ſay you Madam, are ye ſo content ?

Mar. And if my Father pleafe, I am content.

Suf. Then call our Captaines and our Colours for,
And Madam, at your Fathers Caſtle walles,
Wee'le craue a parley, to conferre with him.

Sound. Enter Reignier on the Wall.
Reignier. Enter.

See Reignier ſee, thy daughter prifoner.

Reig. To whom?

Suf. To me.

Reig. Suffolk, what remedy ?

I am a Souldier, and vnapt to weepe,
Or to exclaine on Fortunes fickleneſſe.

Suf. Yes, there is remedy enough my Lord,
Conſent, and for thy Honor giue ſonſent,
Thy daughter ſhall be wedded to my King,

Whom I with paine haue woode and wonne thereto:

And this her eafie held imprisonment,

Hath gain'd thy daughter Princely libertie.

Reig. Speakes Suffolke as he thinkes ?

Suf. Faire Margaret knowes,

That Suffolk doth not flatter, face, or faire.

Reig. Upon thy Princely warrant, I descend,

To giue thee anſwer of thy iuſt demand.

Suf. And heere I will expeſt thy comming.

Trumpets ſe found. Enter Reignier.

Reig. Welcome braue Earle into our Territorie,
Command in Anious what your Honor pleales.

Suf. Thanksere Reignier, happy for ſo I weet a Childre,
Fit to be made companion with a King :

What anſwer makes your Grace vnto my ſuite?

Reig. Since thou doſt daigne to woe her little worth,
To be the Princely Bride of ſuch a Lord :

Vpon condition I may quietly

Enioy mine owne, the Country Maine and Anion,

Free from oppression, or the ſtroke of Warre,

My daughter ſhall be Henries, if he pleafe.

Suf. That is her ransome, I deliver her,
And thofe two Counties I will vndertake
Your Grace ſhall well and quietly eſjoy.

Reig. And I againe in Henries Royall name,
As Deputy vnto that gracious King,
Guee thee her hand for ſigne of plighted faith.

Suf. Reignier of France, I giue thee Kingly thanks,
Because this is in Trafficke of a King.

And yet me thinkes I could be well content

To be mine owne Atturney in this caſe.

Ile ouer then to England with this newes,

And make this marriage to be ſolemniz'd :

So farewell Reignier, ſet this Diamond ſafe

In Golden Pallaces as it becomes.

Reig. I do embrace thee, as I would embrace

The Chriſtian Prince King Henrie were he heere.
Mar. Farewell my Lord, good wishes, prieſe, & praisen.

Shee is your Maide. Shall Suffolk euer haue of Margaret.

Suf. Farwell free Madam: but hearke you Margaret,
No Princely commendations to my King ?

Mar. Such commendations as becomes a Maide,
A Virgin, and his Servant, ſay to him.

Suf. Words sweetly plac'd, and modestie directly,
But

117

But Madame, I must trouble you againe,
No louing Token to his Maieſtie ?

Mar. Yes, my good Lord, a pure vnſpotted heart,
Neuer yet taint with loue, I ſend the King.

Suf. And this withall.

Kiffe her.

Mar. That for thy ſelfe, I will not ſo preſume,
To ſend ſuch peeuith tokens to a King.

Suf. Oh wert thou for my ſelfe: but Suffolke ſlay,
Thou mayſt not wander in that Labyrinth,
There Minotaurs and vgly Treaſons lurke,
Solicite Henry with her wonderous piaſe,
Bethinſe thee on her Vertues that ſurmount,
Mad naturall Graces that extinguſh Art,
Repeate their ſemblance often on the Seas,
That when thou com'ſt to kneele at Henriſes ſeete,
Thou mayſt bereaue him of his wits with wonder. Exit

Enter Yorke, Warwicke, Shepheard, Pucell.

Tor. Bring forth that Sorcereſſe condemn'd to burne.

Shep. Ah Ione, this kils thy Fathers heart out-right,
Hae I ſought euery Country farre and neere,
And now it is my chance to finde thee out,
Muſt I behold thy timeſelle cruell death :
Ah Ione, I weet daughter Ione, Ile die with thee.

Pucell. Decrepit Mifer, bafe ignoble Wretch,
I am defcended of a gentler blood.
Thouart no Father, nor no Friend of mine.

Shep. Out, out: My Lords, and please you, tis not so
I did beget her, all the Parifh knowes:
Her Mother liueth yet, can teſtifie
She was the firſt fruite of my Bach'ler-ſhip.

War. Graceleſſe, wilt thou deny thy Parentage?

Torke. This argues what her kind of life hath beene,
Wicked and vile, and ſo her death concludes.

Shep. Fye Ione, that thou wilt be ſo obſtacle:
God knowes, thou art a collop of my ſlesh,
And for thy ſake haue I ſhed many a teare:
Deny me not, I prythee, gentle Ione.

Pucell. Pezant avant. You haue ſuborn'd this man
Of purpose, to obſcure my Noble birth.

Shep. 'Tis true, I gaue a Noble to the Priſt,
The moſt that I was wedded to her mother.
Kneele downe and take my bleſſing, good my Gyre.
Wilt thou not ſloope ? Now curſed be the time

Of thy natuïtie: I would the Milke
Thy mother gane thee when thou ſuck't her breſt,
Had bin a little Rats-bane for thy ſake.
Or elfe, when thou didſt keepe my Lambes a-field,
I wifh ſome rauenous Wolſe had eaten thee.
Doeth thou deny thy Father, curſed Drab ?

O burne her, burne her, hanging is too good.

Torke. Take her away, for ſhe hath liu'd too long,
To ſell the world with vicious qualities.

Puc. First let me tell you whom you haue condemn'd;
Not me, begotten of a Shepheard Swaine,
But ſuſed from the Progeny of Kings.
Vertuous and Holy, choſen from aboue,
By inſpiration of Celeſtiall Grace,
To worke exceeding myracles on earth.
I neuer had to do with wicked Spirits.
But you that are polluted with your luſtes,
Stain'd with the guiltleſſe blood of Innocents,
Corrupt and tainted with a thousand Vices:
Because you want the grace that others haue,
You judge it straight a thing impotible

To compaſſe Wonders, but by helpe of diuels.

No miſconceyued, Ione of Airs hath beene
A Virgin from her tender infancie,
Chafte, and immaculate in very thought,
Whose Maiden-blo od thus rigorously effus'd,
Will cry for Vengeance, at the Gares of Heauen.

Yorke. I, I: away with her to execution.

War. And hearke ye firſs: becauſe ſhe is a Maide,
Spare for no Faggots, let there be enow :
Place barrels of pitch vpon the fatall ſtake,
That ſo her torture may be ſhortned.

Puc. Will nothing turne your vnrelenting hearts?
Then Ione diſcouet thine infirmity,

That wartanteth by Law, to be thy priuilege.

I am with childe ye bloody Homicides :

Murther not then the Fruite within my Wombe,

Although ye hale me to a violent death.

Tor. Now heauen forſend, the holy Maid with child?

War. The greatest miracle that ere ye wroughts.

Is all your ſtrict preciſeneſſe come to this?

Yorke. She and the Dolphin haue bin iugling,
I did imagine what would be her ſeffe.

War. Well go too, we'll haue no Baſtards liue,
Especially ſince Charles muſt Father it.

Puc. You are deceyu'd, my childe is none of his,
It was Alarſon that inſo'y'd my loue.

Yorke. Alarſon that notorious Maſcheuile ?
It dyes, and if it had a thousand liues.

Puc. Oh gie me leaue, I haue deluded you,
'Twas neyther Charles, nor yet the Duke I nam'd,

But Reignier King of Naples that preuayl'd.

War. A married man, that's moſt intollerable.

Tor. Why here's a Gyrele: I think ſhe knowes not wel
(There were ſo many) whom ſhe may accuſe.

War. It's ſigne ſhe hath beene liberall and free.

Tor. And yet forſooth ſhe is a Virgin pure:
Strumpet, thy words condemne thy Brat, and thee,
Vfe no intreaty, for it is in vaine.

Puc. Then lead me hence: with whom I leaue my curſe.
May neuer glorious Sunne reflex his beames

Vpon the Counſrey where you make abuse.

But darkneſſe, and the gloomy ſhade of death

Inuiron you, till Mifcheſe and Diſpaire,

Driue you to break your necks, or hang your ſelues. Exit

Enter Cardinall.

Yorke. Breake thou in peeces, and conſume to affes,
Thou ſowle accurſed minifter of Hell.

Car. Lord Regent, I do greete your Excellence
With Letters of Comſmission from the King.

For know my Lords, the States of Chriſtendome,

Mou'd with remorſe of these out-ragious broyles,

Hae earneſtly imploſer'd a generall peace,

Betwixt our Nation, and the apſyring French;

And heere at hand, the Dolphin and his Traine

Approacheth, to conferre about ſome matter.

Yorke. Is all our trauell turn'd to this effect,
After the ſlaughter of ſo many Peeres,

So many Captaines, Gentlemen, and Soldiers,

That in this quarrell haue beene ouerthrowne,

And fold their bodyes for their Countryes benefit,

Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace?

Hae we not loſt moſt part of all the Townes,

By Treason, Falfhood, and by Treacherie,

Our great Progenitors had conquered:

Oh Warwicke, Warwicke, I foreſee with greeſe

The vtter loſſe of all the Realme of France.

War. Be patient Yorke, if we conclude a Peace

m

It

It shall be with such strict and feuere Couenants,
As little shall the Frenchmen gaine thereby.

Enter Charles, Alanson, Balfard, Reignier.

Char. Since Lords of England, it is thus agreed,
That peacefull truce shall be proclaime'd in France,
We come to be Informed by your feliues,
What the conditions of that league muft be.

Torke. Speake Winchefter, for boyling choller chokes
The hollow paſſage of my poyſon'd voyce,
By fight of theſe our balefull enemies.

Win. Charles, and the reſt, it is enaſt ed thus:
That in regard King Henry giues conſent,
Of meere compaſſion, and of lenity,
To eafe your Countrie of diſtrefſe ſull Warre,
And ſuffer you to breath in fruitfull peace,
You ſhall become true Liegemen to his Crowne.
And Charles, vpon condition thou wilt ſware
To pay him tribute, and ſubmit thy ſelfe,
Thou ſhalt be pla'd as Viceroy vnder him,
And fill enioy thy Regall dignity.

Alan. Muſt he be then as ſhadow of himſelfe ?
Adome his Temples with a Coronet,
And yet in ſubſtance and authority,
Retaine but prieuledge of a priuate man ?
This proffer is aburſd, and reaſonſeſſe.

Char. 'Tis knowne already that I am poſſeſt
With more then halſe the Gallian Territories,
And therein reuerene'd for their lawfull King.
Shall I for lucre of the reſt vn-vanquiſht,
Derract so much from that prerogative,
As to be call'd but Viceroy of the whole ?
No Lord Ambaſſador, Ile rather keepe
That which I haue, than coureting for more
Be caſt from poffibility of all.

Torke. Inſulting Charles, haſt thou by ſecret meaneſt
Vs'd intercession to obtaine a league,
And now the matter growes to compremize,
Stand it thou aloofe vpon Comparison.
Either accept the Title thou vſurp'ſt,
Of benefit proceeding from our King,
And not of any challenge of Deſert,
Or we will plague thee with inceſſant Warres.

Reig. My Lord, you do not well in obſtinacy,
To cauill in the course of this Contract:
If once it be neglefted, ten to one
We shall not finde like opportunity.

Alan. To ſay the truth, it is your policie,
To ſaue your Subjeſts from ſuch maſſacre
And ruthleſſe slaughters as are dayly ſeene
By our proceeding in Hoſtility,
And therefore take this compaſſ of a Truce,
Although you breake it, when your pleaſure ſerues.

War. How ſayt thou Charles?
Shall our Condition stand?

Char. It shall.
Onely reſeru'd, you claime no intereſt
In any of our Townes of Garrifon.

Tor. Then ſware Allegiance to his Maieſtyle,
As thou art Knight, neuer to diſobey,
Nor be Rebellious to the Crowne of England,
Thou nor thy Nobles, to the Crowne of England.
So now diſmiffle your Army when ye pleafe :
Hang vp your Enſignes, let your Drummes be full,
For here we entertaine a ſolennne peace.

Exeunt

Actus Quintus.

Enter Suffolk in conference with the King,
Gloceſſer, and Exeter.

King. Your wondrous rare deſcription (noble Earle)
Of beauteous Margaret hath aſtoniſh'd me:
Her vertues graced with externall gifts,
Do breed Loues fetled paſſions in my heart,
And like as rigour of tempeſtuous guſtſes
Prouokes the mightieſt Hulke againſt the tide,
So am I driven by breath of her Renowne,
Either to ſuffer Shipwracke, or arrive
Where I may haue ſruition of her Loue.

Suf. Tuff my good Lord, this ſuperficiall tale,
Is but a preſe of her worthy pRAſe:
The cheeſe perfections of that louely Dame,
(Had I ſuſcient skill to vtter them)
Would make a volume of enticing lines,
Able to rauiſh any dull conceit.
And which is more, ſhe is not ſo Diuine,
So full repleate with choice of all delights,
But with as humble lowlineſſe of minde,
She is content to be at your command:
Command I meane, of Vertuous chaſſe intent,
To Loue, and Honor Henry as her Lord.

King. And otherwife, will Henry ne're preſume:
Therefore my Lord Proteſor, giue conſent,
That Margaret may be Englands Royall Queene.

Glo. So should I giue conſent to flatter ſinne,
You know (my Lord) your Highneſſe is betroath'd
Vnto another Lady of eſtee me,
How ſhall we then diſpenſe with that contraſt,
And not deſace your Honor with reproach?

Suf. As doth a Ruler with vnlawfull Oathes,
Or one that at a Triumph, hauing vow'd
To try his ſtrength, forſaketh yet the Lifter
By reaſon of his Aduerſaries oddes.
A poore Earles daughter is vnequall oddes,
And therefore may be broke without eſtence.

Gloceſſer. Why what (I pray) is Margaret more
than that?

Her Father is no better than an Earle,
Although in glorious Titles he excell.

Suf. Yes my Lord, her Father is a King,
The King of Naples, and Ieruſalem,
And of ſuch great Authoritie in France,
As his alliance will confirme our peace,
And keepe the Frenchmen in Allegiance.

Glo. And ſo the Earle of Arminacke may doe,
Because he is neere Kinaſman vnto Charles.
Exeſt. Befide his wealth doth warrant a liberal dowre,
Where Reignier fooner will receyue, that giue.

Suf. A Dowre my Lords? Difgrace not ſo your King,
That he ſhould be ſo abieſt, bafe, and poore,
To choose for wealth, and not for perſect Loue,
Henry is able to enrich his Queene,
And not to feeke a Queene to make him rich;
So worthleſſe Pezants bargaine for their Wines,
As Market men for Oxen, Sheepe, or Horſe.
Marriage is a matter of more worth,
Then to be dealt in by Atturney-ſhip :
Not whom we will, but whom his Grace aſſeets,

Mull

119

Moft be companion of his Nuptiall bed,
And therefore Lords, since he affects her moft,
Moft of all these reafons bindeth vs,
In our opinions ſhe should be prefert'd,
For what is wedlocke forced? but a Hell,
An Age of diſcord and continuall ſtrife,
Whereas the contrarie bringeth bliffe,
And is a patterne of Celestiall peace,
Whom ſhould we match with Henry being a King,
But *Margaret*, that is daughter to a King:
Her peereleſſe feature, ioyned with her birth,
Approues her ſit for none, but for a King.
Her valiant courage, and vndaunted ſpirit,
(More then in women commonly is ſeene)
Will anſwer our hope in iſlue of a King.
For Henry, ſonne vnto a Conqueror,
is likely to beget more Conquerors,
If with a Lady offo high ſeſolue,
*(As is faire Margaret)* he be link'd in loue.
Then yeeld my Lords, and heere conclude with mee,
That Margaret ſhall be Queene, and none but ſhee.
King, Whether it be through force of your report,
My Noble Lord of Suffolke: Or for that
My tender youth was neuer yet attaint
With any paffion of inflaming loue,
I cannot tell: but this I am aſſur'd,

I feele ſuch ſharpe diffention in my breaſt,
Such ſierce alarums both of Hope and Feare,
As I am ſicke with working of my thoughts.
Take therefore ſhipping, poſte my Lord to France,
Agree to any couenants, and procure
That Lady Margaret do vouchſaſe to come
To croſſe the Sea to England, and be crown'd,
King Henries faithfull and annointed Queene.
For your expences and ſufficient charge,
Among the people gather vp a tenth.
Be gone I ſay, for till you do returne,
I reſt perplexed with a thouſand Cares.
And you (good Vnckle) baniſh all offence:
If you do cenſure me, by what you were,
Not what you are, I know it will excufe
This ſodaine execution of my will.
And ſo conduct me, where from company,
I may reuolue and r[u]ninate my greeſe.

*Glo.* I greeſe I feare me, both at firſt and laſt.

*Exit.*

*Exit Gloster.*

*Suf.* Thus Suffolke hath preuail'd, and thus he goes
As did the youthfull Paris once to Greece,
With hope to finde the like euent in loue,
But proſper better than the Trojan did:
*Margaret* ſhall now be Queene, and rule the King:
But I will rule both her, the King, and Realme.

*Exit*

FINIS.

m 2

The

120

The second Part of Henry the Sixt,
with the death of the Good Duke
HVMFREY.

Actus Primus. Scœna Prima.

Flourish of Trumpets: Then Hoboyes.

Enter King, Duke Humfrey, Salisbury, Warwick, and Beauford on the one side.

The Queene, Suffolk, Yorke, Somerset, and Buckingham,
on the other.

Suffolke.

AS by your high Imperiall Maiety,
I had in charge at my depart for France,
As Procurator to your Excellence,
To marry Princes Margaret for your Grace;
So in the Famous Ancient City, Tournes,

In prefence of the Kings of France, and Sicill,

The Dukes of Orlence, Calabre, Britaigne, and Alainson,
Seuen Earles, twelue Barons, & twenty reuerend Bithops

I haue perform'd my Taske, and was eſpous'd,
And humbly now upon my bended knee,
In fight of England, and her Lordly Peeres,
Deliuer vp my Title in the Queene

To your moſt gracious hands, that are the Subſtance
Of that great Shadow I did repreſent:

The happieſt Gift, that euer Marquſſe gaue,
The Faireft Queene, that euer King recei'd.

King. Suffolke arife. Welcome Queene Margaret,
I can expreſſe no kinder ſigne of Loue
Then this kinde kiffe: O Lord, that lends me life,
Lend me a heart repleate with thankfulneſſe:
For thou haſt giuen me in this beauteous Face
A world of earthly bleſſings to my ſoule,
If Sympathy of Loue vnite our thoughts.

Queene. Great King of England, & my gracious Lord,
The muttall conference that my minde hath had,
By day, by night; waking, and in my dreames,
In Courtly company, or at my Beades,
With you mine Alder lieſeſt Soueraigne,
Makes me the bolder to ſalute my King,
With ruder termes, ſuch as my wit aſſoords,
And ouer ioy of heart doth minifter.

King. Her fight did rauiſh, but her grace in Speech,
Her words yclad with wifedomes Maiety,
Makes me from Wondring, fall to Weeping ioyes,
Such is the Fulneſſe of my hearts content.
Lords, with one cheerefull voice, Welcome my Loue.

All kneele. Long line Qu. Margaret, Englands happines,
Queene. We thanke you all.

Suff. My Lord Protector, so it pleafe your Grace,
Heere are the Articles of contracted peace,
Betweene our Soueraigne, and the French King Charles,
For eighteene moneths concluded by conſent.

Glo. Reads. Inprimis, It is agreed betweene the French Charles, and William de la Pole Marquſſe of Suffolkes, Ambaſſador for Henry King of England, That the faid Henry ſulſe eſpouse the Lady Margaret, daughter vnto Reſignor King of Naples, Sicillia, and Ierusalem, and Crowne her Queene of England, ere the thirtieth of May next ensuing.

Item, That the Dutchy of Anion, and the County of Dan,
ſhall be releaſed and delivered to the King her father,

King. Vnkle, how now?

Glo. Pardon me gracious Lord,

Some foadaine qualme hath trucke me at the heart,
And dim'd mine eyes, that I can reade no further.

King. Vnkle of Wincheſter, I pray read on.

Win. Item, It is further agreed betweene them, That the Dutchefſe of Anion and Maine, ſhall be releaſed and deliuer ouer to the King her Father, and ſhewe ſent ouer of the Kings Englands owne proper Coſt and Charges, without baning my Dowry.

King. They pleafe vs well. Lord Marques kneel down.
We heere create thee the firſt Duke of Suffolke,
And girt thee with the Sword. Coſin of Yorke,
We heere diſcharge your Grace from being Regent
I' th parts of France, till terme of eighteene Moneths
Be full expyr'd. Thankes Vnle Wincheſter,
Gloſter, Yorke, Buckingham, Somerset,
Salisburie, and Warwicke.

We thanke you all for this great fauour done,
In entertainment to my Princely Queene.

Come, let vs in, and with all ſpeede prouide
To fee her Coronation be perform'd.

Exit King, Queene, and Suffolke.

Manet the rest.

Glo. Braue Peeres of England, Pillars of the Staſt,
To you Duke Humſrey muſt vnload his greeſe:
Your greeſe, the common greeſe of all the Land,
What? did my brother Henry ſpend his youth,
His valour, coine, and people in the warres?
Did he ſo often lodge in open field:

In Winters cold, and Summers parching heat,
To conquer France, his true inheritance?
And did my brother Bedford toyle his wits,

The second Part of Henry the Sixt.

121

To keepe by policy what Henrie got:
Hae you your felues, Somerſet, Buckingham,
Braue Torke, Salisbury, and victorious Warwicke,
Receiud deepe ſcarres in France and Normandie:
Or hath mine Vnkleve Boasford, and my ſelfe,
With all the Learned Counſell of the Realme,
Studied ſo long, fat in the Councell houſe,
Early and late, debating too and fro
How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe,
And hath his Highneſſe in his infancie,
Crowned in Paris in deſpight of foes,
And shall theſe Labours, and theſe Honours dye?
Shall Henrie Conqueſt, Bedſords vigilance,
Your Deeds of Warre, and all our Counſell dye?
O Peeres of England, ſhamefull is this League,
Fataſt this Marriage, cancelling your ſame,
Blotting your names from Bookes of memory,
Racing the Charracters of your Renowne,
Defacing Monuments of Conquer'd France,
Vndoing all as all had neuer bin.

Car. Nephew, what means this paſſionate diſconſurſe?
This preruption with ſuch circumſtance:
For France, 'tis ours; and we will keepe it full.

Glo. I Vnkleve, we will keepe it, if we can:
But now it is impoſsible we should.

Suffolke, the new made Duke that rules the roſt,
Hath giuen the Dutchy of Anion and Mayne,
Vnto the poore King Reignier, whose large ſtyle
Agrees not with the leaſneſſe of his puple.

Sal. Now by the death of him that dyed for all,
These Counties were the Keyes of Normandie:
But wherefore weepes your warwicke, my valiant ſonne?

War. For greeſe that they are paſt recouerie.
For were there hope to conquer them againe,
My ſword should ſhed hot blood, mine eyes no teares.
Anion and Maine? My ſelfe did win them both:
Thole Prouinces, theſe Armes of mine did conquer,
And are the Citties that I got with wounds,
Deliver'd vp againe with peacefull words?
Mort Dieu.

Torke. For Suffolkes Duke, may he be ſuffocate,
That dimns the Honor of this Warlike ſle:
France should haue torne and rent my very hart,
Before I would haue yeelded to this League.
Inuer read but Englands Kings haue had
Large ſummes of Gold, and Dowries with their wiuſes,
And our King Henry giues away his owne,
To match with her that brings no vantages.

Hun. A proper ieſt, and neuer heard before,
That Suffolke should demand a whole Fifteenth,
For Coſts and Charges in transporting her:
She should haue ſtaid in France, and ſteru'd in France
Before—

Car. My Lord of Gloſter, now ye grow too hot,
It was the pleafure of my Lord the King.

Hun. My Lord of Wincheſter I know your minde.
Tis not my iſeeches that you do miſlike:
But 'tis my prefence that doth troubleye,
Rancour will out, proud Prelate, in thy face
If thy ſur ſie: If I longer ſlay,

We ſhall begin our ancient bickerings:
Lordings farewell, and ſay when I am gone,
I propheſed, France will be loftere long. Exit Humſrey.

Car. So, there goes our Protecſor in a rage:
Tis knowne to you he is mine enemy:
Nay more, an enemey vnto you all,

And no great ſriend, I ſeare meto the King;
Confider Lords, he is the next of blood,
And heyre apparent to the English Crowne:
Had Henrie got an Empire by his marriage,
And all the wealthy Kingdomes of the West,
There's reaſon he should be diſpleas'd at it:
Looke to it Lords, let not his Smoothing words
Bewitch your hearts, be wife and circumſpect.
What though the common people favour him,
Calling him, Humſrey the good Duke of Gloſter,
Clapping their hands, and crying with loud voyce,
Ieue maintaine your Royall Excellence,
With God preferue the good Duke Humſrey:
I ſeare me Lords, for all this flattering gloſſe,
He will be found a dangerous Protecſor.

Buc. Why ſhould he then protecſ our Soueraigne?
He being of age to gouerne of himſelfe.
Cofin of Somerſet, ioyne you with me,
And altogether with the Duke of Suffolke,

Wee' quickly honye Duke Humſrey from his ſeat.

Car. This weighty buſineſſe will not brooke delay,
Ile to the Duke of Suffolke preſently.
Exit Cardinall.

Sons. Cofin of Buckingham, though Humſries pride
And greatneſſe of his place be greeſe to vs,
Yet let vs watch the haughtie Cardinall,
His insolence is more intollerable
Then all the Princes in the Land beſide,
If Gloſter be diſpla'd, hee'll be Proteaor.

Buc. Or thou, or I Somerſet will be Protecſors,
Despife Duke Humſrey, or the Cardinall.

Exit Buckingham, and Somerſet.

Sal. Pride went before, Ambition followes him.
While theſe do labour for their owne preferment,
Behooues it vs to labor for the Realme.
In euer ſaw but Humſrey Duke of Gloſter,
Did beare him like a Noble Gentleman:
Oſt haue I ſene the haughty Cardinall,
More like a ſouldier then a man o' th' Church,
As ſtout and proud as he were Lord of all,
Sweare like a Ruffian, and demeane himſelfe
Vnlike the Ruler of a Common-weale.

Warwicke my ſonne, the comfort of my age,
Thy deeds, thy plainneſſe, and thy house-keeping,
Hath wonne the greaſt ſavour of the Commons,
Excepting none but good Duke Humſrey.

And Brother Yorke, thy Aſts in Ireland,
In bringing them to ciuill Diſcipline:
Thy late exploits done in the heart of France,
When thou wert Regent for our Soueraigne,
Hae made thee fear'd and honor'd of the people,
Ioyne we together for the publike good,
In what we can, to bridle and ſuppreſſe
The pride of Suffolke, and the Cardinall,
With Somerſets and Buckinghams Ambition,
And as we may, cheriſh Duke Humſries deeds,
While they do tend the profit of the Land.

War. So God helpe Warwicke, as he loues the Land,
And common profit of his Countray.

Tor. And ſo fayes Yorke,
For he hath greaſt eauſe.
Salisbury. Then lets make haſt away,
And looke vnto the maine.

Warwicke. Vnto the maine?
Oh Father, Maine is loft,
That Maine, which by maine force Warwicke did winne,
And would haue kept, ſo long as breath did laſt:

m 3

Main

Main-chance father you meant, but I meant Maine,
Which I will win from France, or else be flaine.

Exit Warwicke, and Salisbury. Manet Yorke.

Yorke. Anion and Maine are giuen to the French,
Paris is loft, the state of Normandie

Stands on a tickle point, now they are gone :

Suffolke concluded on the Articles,
The Peeres agreed, and Henry was well pleas'd,
To change two Dukedomes for a Dukes faire daughter.

I cannot blame them all, what is't to them?
'Tis thine they give away, and not their owne.

Pirates may make cheape penyworths of their pillage,
And purchase Friends, and giue to Curtezans,
Still reuelling like Lords till all be gone,

While as the filly Owner of the goods
Weepes ouer them, and wrings his hapleffe hands,
And shakes his head, and trembling itands aloofe,
While all is flat'd, and all is borne away;

Ready to fterue, and dare not touch his owne.

So Yorke muft fit. and fier, and bite his tongue,
While his owne Lands are bargain'd for, and fold :
Me thinkes the Realmes of England, France, & Ireland,
Beare that proportion to my fleth and blood,

As did the fallt brand Althea burnt,
Vnto the Princes heart of Calidon :

Anion and Maine both giuen vnto the French ?

Cold newes for me : for I had hope of France,
Euen as I haue of fertile Englands foile.

A day will come, when Yorke shall claime his owne,
And therefore I will take the Neivils parts,

And make a shew of loue to proud Duke Humfrey,
And when I spy aduantage, claime the Crowne,
For that's the Golden marke I feeke to hit :

Nor shall proud Lancafter vforpe my right,
Nor hold the Scepter in his childifh Fift,

Nor weare the Diadem vpon his head,

Whofe Church-like humors fits not for a Crowne.
Then Yorke be still a-while, till time do ferue :

Watch thou, and wake when others be aſſeepc,
To prie into the ſeerets of the State,

Till Henrie ſurſetting in ioyes of loue,
With his new Bride, & Englands deere bought Queen,

And Humſrey with the Peeres be falne at iarres :
Then will I raſe aloft the Milke-white-Rose,
With whose ſweet ſmell the Ayre shall be perfum'd,

And in my Standard beare the Armes of Yorke,
To grapple with the houſe of Lancafter,
And force perſorce Ile make him yeeld the Crowne,

Whose bookiſh Rule,haſt pull'd faire England downe.

Exit Yorke.

Enter Duke Humſrey and his wife Elianor.

Elia. Why droopes my Lord like ouer-ripen'd Corn,
Hanging the head at Ceres plenteous load ?

Why doth the Great Duke Humſrey knit his browes,
As frowning at the Fauours of the world ?

Why are thine eyes fixt to the ſ fallen earth,

Gazing on that which feemes to dimme thy fight?

What feeſt thou there ? King Henries Diadem,
Inchac'd with all the Honors of the world?

If so, Gaze on, and grouell on thy face,
Vntill thy head be circled with the fame.

Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious Gold.

What, is't too thort ? Ile lengthen it with mine,
And hauing both together heau'd it vp,

Wee'! both together lift our heads to heauen,
And neuer more abafe our fight so low,

A to vouchſafe one glance vnto the ground,

Hum. O Neils, weet Nell, if thou doſt loue thy Lord,
Banifh the Canker of ambitious thoughts :

And may that thought, when I imagine ill
Against my King and Nephew, vertuous Henry,
Be my last breathing in this mortall world,

My troublous dreames this night, doth make me ſad,

Eli. What dream'd my Lord, tell me, and Ile require
With ſweet rehearſall of my mornings dreame ?

Hum. Me thought this ſtaſſe mine Office-badge in
Court

Was broke in twaine : by whom, I haue forgot,
But as I thinke, it was by't Cardinall,

And on the peeces of the broken Wand

Were plac'd the heads of Edmond Duke of Soſeret,
And William de la Pole firſt Duke of Suffolke.

This was my dreame, what it doth bode God knowes.

Eli. Tut, this was nothing but an argument,
That he that breakes a ſtcke of Gloſters groue,
Shall looke his head for his prefumption.

But lift to me my Humſrey, my ſweete Duke :

Me thought I fate in Seate of Maieſtyl,

In the Cathedrall Church of Westminſter,

And in that Chaire where Kings & Queens wer crowne,
Where Henrie and Dame Margaret kneel'd to me,
And on my head did ſer the Diadem.

Hum. Nay Elianor, then muſt I chide outright :

Prefumptious Dame, ill-nurſer'd Elianor,

Art thou not ſeend Woman in the Realme ?

And the Proteſtors wife belou'd of him ?

Haſt thou not worldly pleasure at command,

Aboue the reach or compaſſe of thy thought?

And wilt thou ſtill be hammering Treachery,

To tumble downe thy husband, and thy ſelfe,

From top of Honor, to Difgraces ſeete ?

Away from me, and let me heare no more.

Elia. What, what, my Lord? Are you ſo chollerike
With Elianor, for telling but her dreame ?

Next time I keepe my dreames vnto my ſelfe,
And not be check'd,

Hum. Nay be not angry, I am pleas'd againe.

Enter Meſſenger.

Meſſ. My Lord Proteſtor, 'tis his Highnes pleasaunce.
You do prepare to ride vnto S. Albons,
Where as the King and Queene do meane to Hawke,

Hu. I go, Come Nel thou wilt ride with vs? Ex. Nel
Eli. Yes my good Lord. Ile follow prefently.

Follow I muſt, I cannot go before,
While Gloſter beares this bafe and humble minde.

Were I a Man, a Duke, and next of blood,
I would remoue these tedious ſtumbling blocks,
And ſmooth my way vpon their headleſſe neckes.

And being a woman, I will not be ſlacke
To play my part in Fortunes Pageant.

Where are you there? Sir Iohn, nay feare not man,

We are alone, here's none but thee, & I. Enter Hume.
Hume. Iefus preferue your Royall Maieſtyl.

Elia. What faſt thou ? Maieſty : I am but Grace.

Hume. But by the grace of God, and Humes auicium,
Your Graces Title shall be multiplied,

Elia. What faſt thou man ? Haſt thou as yet conferu
With Margerie Iordame the cunning W itselfe,

With Roger Bollingbrooke the Coniurer ?

And will they undertake to do me good?

Hume. This they haue promiſed to ſhew your Hightes
A Spirit raiſ'd from depth of vnder ground,

That

123

That shall make answere to such Queftions,
As by your Grace shall be propounded him.

Elianol. It is enough, Ile thinke vpon the Queftions:
When from Saint Albones we doe make returne,
Weele fee theſe things eſſed to the full.
Here Hume, take this reward, make merry man
With thy Confederates in this weightie caufe.

Exit Elianol.

Hume. Hume muſt make merry with the Duchefte Gold:
Marry and ſhall : but how now, Sir Iohn Hume?
Seale vp your Lips, and giue no words but Mum,
The busineſſe asketh ſilent ſecrecie.

Dame Elianol giues Gold, to bring the Witch:
Gold cannot come amiffe, were ſhe a Devill,
Yet haue I Gold flyes from another Coaſt:
I dare not ſay, from the rich Cardinall,
And from the great and new-made Duke of Suffolke;
Yet I doe finde it ſo: for to be plaine,
They (knowing Dame Elianolers aspiring humor)
Haue hyred me to vnder-mine the Duchefte,
And buſze theſe Coniurations in her brayne.
They ſay, A craftie Knaue do's need no Broker,
Yet am I Suffolke and the Cardinalls Broker.
Hume, if you take not heed, you ſhall goe neere
To call them both a payre of craftie Knaues.
Well, to it ſands: and thus I feare at laſt,
Humes Knauerie will be the Duchefte Wracke,
And her Attainture, will be Humphreyes ſall:
Sort how it will, I ſhall haue Gold for all.

Exit

Enter three or foure Petitioners, the Armoryers
Man being one.

1. Pet. My Maſters, let's ſtand close, my Lord Pro-
tector will come this way by and by, and then wee may
deliver our Supplications in the Quill.

2. Pet. Marry the Lord protect him, for hee's a good man, Iefu bleſſe him.

Enter Suffolke, and Queene.

Peter. Here a comes me thinkes, and the Queene with
him: Ile be the firſt fure.

2. Pet. Come backe foole, this is the Duke of Suffolke,
and not my Lord Protector.

Suff. How now fellow: would'ſt any thing with me?

1. Pet. I pray my Lord pardon me, I tooke ye for my
Lord Protector.

Queene. To my Lord Protector? Are your Supp'lications to his Lordship? Let me fee them: what is thine?

1. Pet. Mine is, and't pleafe your Grace, againſt Iohn
Goodman, my Lord Cardinall, for keeping my Houſe,
and Lands, and Wife and all, from me.

Suff. Thy Wife too? that's ſome Wrong indeede.
What's yours ? What's heere ? Againſt the Duke of
Suffolke, for encloſing the Commons of Melforde. How
now, Sir Knaue?

2. Pet. Alas Sir, I am but a poore Petitioner of our whole Towneſhip.

Peter. Againſt my Maſter Thomas Horner, for ſaying,
That the Duke of Yorke was rightfull Heire to the
Crowne.

Queene. What ſay'ſt thou ? Did the Duke of Yorke
ſay, hee was rightfull Heire to the Crowne?

Peter. That my Miftreſſe was? No forſooth: my Maſter
ſaid, That he was, and that the King was an Vſurper.

Suff. Who is there ?

Enter Servant.

Take this fellow in, and ſend for his Maſter with a Purſu-
ant preſently : weele heare more of your matter before
the King.

Queene. And as for you that loue to be proteſted
Vnder the Wings of our Proteſtors Grace,
Begin your Suites anew, and ſue to him.

Teare the Supplication.

Away, bafe Cullions: Suffolke let them goe.

All. Come, let's be gone.

Exit.

Queene. My Lord of Suffolke, ſay, is this the guifte ?
Is this the Fafhions in the Court of England?

Is this the Gouernment of Britaines Ile ?
And this the Royaltie of Albions King ?

What, ſhall King Henry be a Pupill ſtill,
Vnder the ſurly Gloſters Gouernance ?

Am I a Queene in Title and in Stile,

And muſt be made a Subieſt to a Duke?

I tell thee Poole, when in the Citie Tours

Thou ranſt a-tilt in honor of my Loue,

And rol'ſt away the Ladies hearts of France ;

I thought King Henry had reſembled thee,

In Courage, Courtſhip, and Proportion:

But all his minde is bent to Holineſſe,

To number Aue-Maries on his Beades :

His Champions, are the Prophets and Apoſtles,

His Weapons, holy Sawes of ſacred Writ,

His Studie is his Tilt-yard, and his Loues

Are brazen Images of Canonized Saints,

I would the Colledge of the Cardinalls

Would chufe him Pope, and carry him to Rome,

And fet the Triple Crowne vpon his Head ;

That were a State fit for his Holineſſe.

Suff. Madame be patient: as I was cauſe
Your Highneſſe came to England, ſo will I

In England worke your Graces full content.

Queene. Beſide the haughtie Protector, haue we Beaumford
The imperious Churchman; Somerſet, Buckingham,
And grumbling Yorke: and not the leaſt of theſe,
But can doe more in England then the King.

Suff. And he of theſe, that can doe moſt of all,
Cannot doe more in England then the Neuils :

Salisbury and Warwick are no ſimple Peeres.

Queene. Not all theſe Lords do vex me halſe ſomuch,

As that prowd Dame, the Lord Proteſtors Wife:

She ſweepes it through the Court with troups of Ladies,

More like an Emprefle, then Duke Humphreyes Wife:

Strangers in Court, doe take her for the Queene:

She beares a Dukes Reuenewes on her backe,

And in her heart ſhe ſcornes our Pouertie:

Shall I not liue to be aueng'd on her?

Contemptuous bafe-borne Callot as ſhe is,

She vaunted'mongſt her Minions t'other day,

The very trayne of her worſt wearing Gowne,

Was better worth then all my Fathers Lands,

Till Suffolke gaue two Dukedomes for his Daughter.

Suff. Madame, my ſelfe haue lym'd a Buſh for her,
And plac't a Quier of ſuch enticing Birds,

That ſhe will light to litien to the Layes,

And neuer mount to trouble you againe.

So let her reſt: and Madame lift to me,

For I am bold to counſaile you in this;

Although we fancie not the Cardinall,

Yet muſt we ieyne with him and with the Lords,

Till we haue brought Duke Humphrey in diſgrace.

As

As for the Duke of Yorke, this late Complaint
Will make but little for his benefit:

So one by one wee'll weed them all at last,
And you your selfe shall fleere the happy Helme.

Exit.

Sound a Sennet.

Enter the King, Duke Humfrey, Cardinal, Buckingham, Yorke, Salisbury, Warwick, and the Duchess.

King. For my part, Noble Lords, I care not which,
Or Somerset, or Yorke, all's one to me.

Yorke. If Yorke have ill demean'd himselfe in France,
Then let him be denay'd the Regent-ship.

Som. If Somerſet be vnworthy of the Place,
Let Yorke be Regent, I will yeeld to him.

Warw. Whether your Grace be worthy, yea'or no,
Dispute not that, Yorke is the worthyer.

Card. Ambitious Warwick, let thy betters speake.

Warw. The Cardinall's not my better in the field.

Buck. All in this prefence are thy betters, Warwick.

Warw. Warwick may liue to be the beſt of all.

Salis, Peace Sonne, and ſhew ſome reaſon Buckingham
Why Somerſet should be preferr'd in this?

Queene. Because the King forſoon will haue it ſo,

Humf. Madame, the King is old enough himſelfe
To give his Cenſure: Theſe are no Womens matters.

Queene. If he be old enough, what needs your Grace
To be Protector of his Excellence?

Humf. Madame, I am Proteſor of the Realme,
And at his pleafure will reſigne my Place.

Suff. Reſigne it then, and leane thine inſolence.
Since thou wert King; as who is King, but thou?

The Common-wealth hath dayly run to wrack,
The Dolphin hath preuayl'd beyond the Seas,
And all the Peeres and Nobles of the Realme

Hae beene as Bond-men to thy Soueraigntie.

Card. The Commons haſt thou rackt, the Clergies Bags
Are lanke and leane with thy Extortions.

Som. Thy ſumptuous Buildings, and thy Wives Attyre
Hae coſt a maffe of publique Treafurie.

Buck. Thy Crueltie in execution
Vpon Offendors, hath exceeded Law,
And left thee to the mercy of the Law.

Queene. Thy ſale of Offices and Townes in France,
If they were knowne, as the ſuſpect is great,
Would make thee quickly hop without thy Head.

Exit Humfrey.

Gie me my Fanne: what, Mynion, can ye not?

She gires the Duchess a box on the eare.

I cry you mercy, Madame: was it you ?

Duch. Was't I? yea, I it was, prowd French-woman:
Could I come neere your Beautie with my Nayles,
I could fet my ten Commandements in your face.

King. Sweet Auntie be quiet, 'twas againſt her will.

Duch. Againſt her will, good King? looke to't in time,
Shee'le hamper thee, and dandle thee like a Baby:
Though in this place moſt Maſter weare no Breeches,
She ſhall not strike Dame Elianor vnreueng'd.

Exit Elianor.

Buck. Lord Cardinal, I will follow Elianor,
And lıſten after Humſrey, how he proceeds :
Shee's tickled now, her Fume needs no ſpurres,
Shee'le gallop farre enough to her deſtruction.

Exit Buckingham.

Enter Humfrey.

HUMF. Now Lords, my Choller being ouer-blown,
With walking once about the Quadrangle,
I come to talke of Common-wealth Affayres.

As for your ſpightfull falſe Obiections,
Prone them, and I lye open to the Law:

But God in mercie ſo deale with my Soule,
As I in dutie loue my King and Country.

But to the matter that we haue in hand:

I ſay, my Soueraigne, Yorke is meeteſt man
To be your Regent in the Realme of France,

Suff. Before we make election, giue me leaue
To ſhow ſome reaſon, of no little force,
That Yorke is moſt vnmeet of any man.

Yorke. Ile tell thee, Suffolke, why I am vnmeet,
First for I cannot flatter thee in Pride:
Next, if I be appointed for the Place,
My Lord of Somerſet will keepe me here,
Without Diſcharge, Money, or Furniture,
Till France be wonne into the Dolphins hands:
Last time I danc't attendance on his will,
Till Paris was beſieg'd, famiſh, and loſt,

Warw. That can I witneſſe, and a ſouler ſaſt
Did neuer Traytor in the Land commit.

Suff. Peace head-ſtrong Warwick.

Warw. Image of Pride, why should I hold my peace?

Enter Armorer and his Man.

Suff. Because here is a man accuſed of Treason,
Pray God the Duke of Yorke excuſe himſelfe.

Yorke. Doth any one accuſe Yorke for a Traytor?

King. What meanſt thou, Suffolke? tell me, what are
theſe?

Suff. Pleaſe it your Maieſtie, this is the man
That doth accuſe his Maſter of High Treason;
His words were theſe: That Richard, Duke of Yorke,
Was rightfull Heire vnto the English Crowne,
And that your Maieſtie was an Vlurper.

King. Say man, were theſe thy words?

Armorer. And't shall pleafe your Maieſtie, I neuer lay
nor thought any ſuch matter: God is my witneſſe, I am
ſaſely accuſ'd by the Villaine.

Peter. By theſe tenne bones, my Lords, hee did speake
them to me in the Garret one Night, as wee were lioo-
ring my Lord of Yorkes Armor.

Yorke. Bafe Dunghill Villaine, and Mechanical,
Ile haue thy Head for this thy Traytors ſpeech:
I doe beſeech your Royall Maieſtie,
Let him haue all the rigor of the Law.

Armorer. Alas, my Lord, hang me if euer I ſpake the
words: my accuſer is my Prentice, and when I did co-
reſt him for his ſault the other day, he did vow vpon his
knees he would be euen with me: I haue good witneſſe
of this; therefore I beſeech your Maieſtie, doe not caſ
away an honest man for a Villaines accufation.

King. Vnckle, what shall we ſay to this in law?

Hunſ. This doome, my Lord, if I may iudge:
Let Somerſet be Regent o're the French,
Because in Yorke this breedes ſupſition;
And let theſe haue a day appointed them
For ſingle Combat, in conuenient place,
For he hath witneſſe of his ſeruants malice:

This is the Law, and this Duke Humfreyes doome.

Som. I.

125

Sem. I humbly thanke your Royall Maieſtie.

Armorer. And I accept the Combat willingly.

Peter. Alas, my Lord, I cannot fight; for Gods ſake
pitty my cafe: the ſpight of man preuayleth againſt me.
O Lord haue mercy vpon me, I ſhall neuer be able to
fight a blow: O Lord my heart.

Hume. Sirtha, or you muſt fight, or eſſe be hang'd,

King. Away with them to Prifon : and the day of
Combat, ſhall be the laſt of the next moneth. Come
Somerset, wee'le ſee thee ſent away.

Flourish.

Exeunt.

Enter the Witch, the two Prieſts, and Bullingbrooke.

Hume. Come my Maſters, the Duchefſe I tell you ex-
pects performance of your promiſes.

Bulling. Maſter Hume, we are therefore prouided: will
her Ladyship behold and heare our Exorcismeſ?

Hume. I, what eſſe? ſeare you not her courage.

Bulling. I haue heard her reported to be a Woman of
an inuincible ſpirit : but it ſhall be conuenient, Maſter
Hume, that you be by her aloſt, while wee be buſe be-
low; and for I pray you goe in Gods Name, and leaue vs.

Exit Hume.

Mother Jordan, be you proftrate, and grouell on the
Earth; Iohn Southwell reade you, and let vs to our worke.

Enter Elianor aloſt.

Elianor. Well ſaid my Maſters, and welcome all : To
this geere, the ſooner the better.

Bulling. Patience, good Lady, Wizards know their times:
Deep Night, darke Night, the ſilent of the Night,
The time of Night when Troy was ſet on fire,
The time when Screech-owles cry, and Bandogs howle,
And Spirits walke, and Ghoſts breake vp their Graues;
That time beſt fits the worke we haue in hand.
Madame, fit you, and ſeare not: whom wee rayle,
Wee will make ſaſt within a hallow'd Verge.

Here doe the Ceremonies belonging, and make the Circle,
Bullingbrooke or Southwell reades, Coniuro
tc, &c. It Thunders and Lightens
tertibly : then the Spirit
rifeſth.

Spirit. Ad ſum.

Witch. Aſmath, by the eternall God,
Whose name and power thou trembleſt at,
Anſwere that I ſhall aske : for till thou ſpeake,
Thou ſhalt not paffe from hence.

Spirit. Aske what thou wilt ; that I had ſayd, and
done.

Bulling. First of the King : What ſhall of him be-
come?

Spirit. The Duke yet liues, that Henry ſhall depofe:
But him out-lie, and dye a violent death.

Bulling. What fates await the Duke of Suffolke?

Spirit. By Water ſhall he dye, and take his end.

Bulling. What ſhall befall the Duke of Somerſet?

Spirit. Let him ſhun Caſſles,

Safer ſhall he vpon the ſandie Plaines,
Then where Caſſles mounted ſtand.

Hae done, for more I hardly can endure.

Bulling. Difſcend to Darkneſſe, and the burning Lake:
Falſe Fiend auoide.

Thunder and Lightning. Exit Spirit.

Enter the Duke of Torke and the Duke of Buckingham
with their Guard, and breake in.

Torke. Lay hands vpon theſe Traytors, and their trafſ:
Beldam I thinke we watcht you at an ynch.

What Madame, are you there? the King & Commonweale
Are deeply indebted for this peecce of paines;

My Lord Proteſor will, I doubt it not,

See you well guerdon'd for theſe good deſerts.

Elianor. Not halſe ſo bad as thine to Englands King,
Inuurious Duke, that threateſt where's no cauſe.

Buck. True Madame, none at all: what call you this?

Away with them, let them be clapt vp cloſe,

And kept aſunder: you Madame ſhall with vs.

Stafford take her to thee.

Wee'le ſee your Trinkets here all forth-comming.

All away.

Exit.

Torke. Lord Buckingham, me thinks you watcht her well:
A pretty Plot, well choſen to build vpon.

Now pray my Lord, let's ſee the Deuils Writ.

What haue we here ?

Reades.

Why this is iuſt Aie Œacida Romanos vincere poſſo.

Well, to the reſt:

Tell me what ſate awaits the Duke of Suffolke?

What ſhall betide the Duke of Somerſet?

Let him ſhunne Caſſles,

Safer ſhall he be vpon the ſandie Plaines,

Come, come, my Lords,

Theſe Oracles are hardly attain'd,

And hardly vnderſlood.

The King is now in progreſſe towards Saint Albones,

With him, the Husband of this Iouely Lady :

Thither goes theſe Newes,

As ſaſt as Horſe can carry them:

A ſorry Breakſaſt for my Lord Proteſor.

Buck. Your Grace ſhal giue me leaue, my Lord of York,

To be the Poſſe, in hope of his reward.

Torke. At your pleaſure, my good Lord.

Who's within there, hoe?

Enter a Servingman.

Inuite my Lords of Salisbury and Warwick

To ſuppe with me to morrow Night. Away.

Exeunt.

Enter the King, Queene, Proteſor, Cardinal, and
Suffolke, with Faulkners hallowing.

Queene. Beleeue me Lords, for flying at the Brooke,
I law not better ſport theſe ſeuen yceers day:

Yet by your leaue, the Winde was very high,

And ten to one, old Ioane had not gone out.

King. But what a point, my Lord, your Faulcon made,
And what a pytch the ſlew aboue the reſt:

To ſee how God in all his Creatures workes,

Yea Man and Birds are fayne of climbing high.

Suff. No maruell, and it like your Maieſtie,

My Lord Proteſors Hawkes doe towre ſo well,

They know their Maſter loues to be aloſt,

And beares his thoughts aboue his Faulcons Pitch.

Gloſt. My Lord, 'tis but a bafe ignoble minde,

That mounts no higher then a Bird can fore:

Card. I

Card. I thought as much, hee would be aboue the
Clouds.

Gloft. I my Lord Cardinall, how thinke you by that?
Were it not good your Grace could flye to Heauen?

King. The Treafurie of euerlafting Ioy.
Card. Thy Heauen is on Earth, thine Eyes & Thoughts

Beat on a Crowne, the Treasure of thy Heart,

Pernitious Proteſtor, dangerous Peere,

That smooth't it fo with King and Common-weale.

Gloft. What, Cardinall?

Is your Prieſt-hood growne peremptorie ?

Tant.ene animis Caleſtibus ira, Church-men ſo hot ?

Good Vnckle hide ſuch mallice :

With ſuch Holyneſſe can you doe it?

Suff. No mallice Sir, no more then well becomes

So good a Quarrell, and ſo bad a Peere.

Gloſt. As who, my Lord?

Suff. Why, as you, my Lord,

An't like your Lordly Lords Proteſtorſhip.

Gloſt. Why Suffolke, England knowes thine inſolence.

Queene. And thy Ambition, Gloſter.

King. I prythee peace, good Queene,

And whet not on theſe ſurious Peeres,

For bleſſed are the Peace-makers on Earth.

Card. Let me be bleſſed for the Peace I make
Againſt this prowd Proteſtor with my Sword.

Gloſt. Faith holy Vnckle, would't were come to that.

Card. Marry, when thou dar'ſt.

Gloſt. Make vp no faſtious numbers for the matter,

In thine owne perſon anſwere thy abufe.

Card. I, where thou dar'ſt not peefe :

And if thou dar'ſt, this Euening,

On the Eaſt ſide of the Groue.

King. How now, my Lords ?

Card. Beleeue me, Couſin Gloſter,

Had not your man put vp the Fowle ſo suddenly,

We had had more ſport.

Come with thy two-hand Sword.

Gloſt. True Vnckle, are ye aduis'd?

The Eaſt ſide of the Groue :

Cardinall, I am with you.

King. Why how now, Vnckle Gloſter ?

Gloſt. Talking of Hawking; nothing elſe, my Lord.

Now by Gods Mother, Prieſt,

Ile ſhaue your Crowne for this,

Or all my Fence ſhall fayle.

Card. Medice teſpum, Proteſtor ſee to't well, proteſt your ſelfe.

King. The Windes grow high,

So doe your Stomacks, Lords :

How irkeſome is this Muſick to my heart?

When ſuch Strings iarre, what hope of Harmony ?

I pray my Lords let me compound this ſtrife.

Enter one crying a Miracle.

Gloſt. What means this noyſe ?

Fellow, what Miracle doſt thou proclayme ?

One. A Miracle, a Miracle.

Suffolke. Come to the King, and tell him what Mi-
racle.

One. Forfooth, a blinde man at Saint Albones Shrine,
Within this halſe houre hath receiu'd his fight,
A man that ne're ſaw in his life before.

King. Now God be prays'd, that to beleeuing Soules
Gives Light in Darkneſſe, Comfort in Defpaire.

Enter the Maior of Saint Albones, and his Brethren,
bearing the man betweene two in a Chayre.

Card. Here comes the Towneſ-men, on Proſeſſion,
To preſent your Highneſſe with the man,

King. Great is his comfort in this Earthly Vale,
Although by his fight his finne be multiplied.

Gloſt. Stand by, my Maſters, bring him neere the King.
His Highneſſe pleaſure is to talke with him.

King. Good-fellow, tell vs here the circumſtance,
That we for thee may gloriſe the Lord,

What, haſt thou beene long blinde, and now reſtor'd?

Simpc. Borne blinde, and't pleaſe your Grace,

Wife. I indeede was he.

Suff. What Woman is this ?

Wife. His Wifc, and't like your Worſhip.

Gloſt. Hadſt thou been his Mother, thou could't haue better told.

King. Where wert thou borne ?

Simpc. At Barwick in the North, and't like your
Grace.

King. Poore Soule,

Gods goodneſſe hath beene great to thee :

Let neuer Day nor Night vnhalled paffe,
But ſtill remember what the Lord hath done.

Queene. Tell me, good-fellow,
Cam'ſt thou here by Chance, or of Deuotion,
To this holy Shrine ?

Simpc. God knowes of pure Deuotion,

Being call'd a hundred times, and ofneſt,

In my ſleepe, by good Saint Albon :

Who ſaid; Symon, come; come offer at my Shrine,

And I will helpe thee.

Wife. Moſt true, fortooth :

And many time and oft my ſelfe haue heard a Voyce,
To call him so.

Card. What, art thou lame ?

Simpc. I, God Almightie helpe me.

Suff. How cam'ſt thou ſo ?

Simpc. A fall off of a Tree.

Wife. A Plum-tree, Maſter.

Gloſt. How long haſt thou beene blinde ?

Simpc. O borne is, Maſter.

Gloſt. What, and would'ſt climb a Tree ?

Simpc. But that in all my life, when I was a youth.

Wife. Too true, and bought his climbing very dear.

Gloſt. 'Maffe, thou lou'd Plummes well, that would'ſt venture ſo.

Simpc. Alas, good Maſter, my Wifc defired ſome
Damſons, and made me climbe, with danger of my
Life.

Gloſt. A subtill Naue, but yet it shall not ſerve:
Let me ſee thine Eyes; winck now, now open them,
In my opinion, yet thou ſeeſt not well.

Simpc. Yes Maſter, cleare as day, I thanke God and
Saint Albones.

Gloſt. Say'ſt thou me ſo : what Colour is this Cloak
of?

Simpc. Red Maſter, Red as Blood.

Gloſt. Why that's well ſaid : What Colour is my
Gowne of?

Simpc. Black forfooth, Coale-Black, as Ict.

King. Why then, thou know'ſt what Colour Ict is
of?

Suff. And yet I thinke, Ict did he neuer fee.

Gloſt. But

127

Gloft. But Cloakes and Gownes, before this day, a
many.

Wife. Neuer before this day, in all his life.

Gloft. Tell me Sirrha, what's my Name?

Simpe. Alas Maſter, I know not.

Gloft. What's his Name?

Simpe. I know not.

Gloft. Nor his?

Simpe. No indeede, Maſter.

Gloft. What's thine owne Name?

Simpe. Saunder Simpcox, and if it pleaſe you, Maſter.

Gloft. Then Saunder, fit there,

The lying it Knaue in Chriſtendome.

If thou hadst beene borne blinde,

Thou might it as well haue knowne all our Names,

As thus to name the feuerall Colours we doe weare.

Sight may diſtinguſh of Colours :

But suddenly to nominatethem all,

It is impoffible.

My Lords, Saint Albone here hath done a Miracle:

And would ye not thinke it, Cunning to be great,

That could reſtore this Cripple to his Legges againe.

Simpe. O Maſter, that you could?

Gloft. My Maſters of Saint Alborres,
Hae you not Beadles in your Towne,
And Things call'd Whippes?

Maior. Yes, my Lord, if it pleaſe your Grace.

Gloft. Then ſend for one prefently.

Maior. Sirrha, goe fetch the Beadle hither straight.

Exit.

Gloft. Now fetch me a Stoole hither by and by.
Now Sirrha, if you meane to ſaue your ſelfe from Whipping, leape me ouer this Stoole, and runne away.

Simpe. Alas Maſter, I am not able to ſtand alone :

You goe about to torture me in vaine.

Enter a Beadle with Whippes.

Gloft. Well Sir, we muſt haue you finde your Legges.
Sirrha Beadle, whippe him till he leape ouer that fame
Stoole.

Beadle. I will, my Lord.

Come on Sirrha, off with your Doublet, quickly.

Simpe. Alas Maſter, what ſhall I doe? I am not able to
ſtand,

After the Beadle hath hit him once, he leapes ouer
the Stoole, and runnes away: and they
follow, and cry, A Miracle.

King. O God, feeſt thou this, and beareſt ſo long?

Queene. It made me laugh, to ſee the Villaine runne,

Gloft. I follow the Knaue, and take this Drab away.

Wife. Alas Sit, we did it for pure need.

Gloft. Let the be whipt through every Market Towne,
Till they come to Barwick, from whence they came.

Exit.

Card. Duke Humſrey ha's done a Miracle to day.

Suff. True: made the Lame to leape and flye away.

Gloft. But you haue done more Miracles then I :

You made in a day, my Lord, whole Townes to flye.

Enter Buckingham.

King. What Tidings with our Cousin Buckingham?

Buck. Such as my heart doth tremble to vnfold :

A forſt of naughtie perſons, lewrdly bent,
Vnder the Countenance and Confederacie

Of Lady Elianor, the Proteſtors Wife,

The Ring-leader and Head of all this Rout,

Hae præſis'd dangerously against your State,

Dealing with Witches and with Coniurers,

Whom we haue apprehended in the Faſt,

Rayſing vp wicked Spirits from vnder ground,

Demanding of King Henries Life and Death,

And other of your Highneſſe Priuie Councell,

As more at large your Grace ſhall vnderstand.

Card. And to my Lord Proteſtor, by this meanes

Your Lady is forth-comming, yet at London.

This Newes I thinke hath turn'd your Weapons edge ;

Tis like, my Lord, you will not keepe your houre.

Gloft. Ambitious Church-man, leaue to afflict my heart :
Sorrow and griefe haue vanquifhed all my powers ;

And vanquifhed as I am, I yeeld to thee,

Or to the meaneſt Groome.

King. O God, what miſchieſes work the wicked ones?
Heaping confusion on their owne heads thereby.

Queene. Gloſter, ſee here the Tainſture of thy Neſt,

And looke thy ſelfe be faſt ſleſſe, thou wert beſt.

Gloft. Madame, for my ſelfe, to Heauen I doe appeale,
How I haue lou'd my King, and Common-weale :

And for my Wife, I know not how it ſtands,

Sorry I am to heare what I haue heard,

Noble ſhee is : but if ſhee haue forgoſ

Honor and Vertue, and couuers't with ſuch,

As like to Pytch, deſile Nobilitie;

I banisſh her my Bed, and Companie,

And giue her as a Prey to Law and Shame,

That hath dis-honored Gloſters honest Name,

King. Well, for this Night we will repofe vs here :

To morrow toward London, back againe,

To looke into this Buſineſſe thorowely,

And call theſe foule Offendors to their Anſwering;

And payſe the Caufe in Iuſtice equall Scales,

Whole Beame ſtands ſure, wholeſe rightful caufe preuails.

Flourishb.

Exeunt.

Enter Yorke, Salisbury, and Warwick.

Yorke. Now my good Lords of Salisbury & Warwick,
Our ſimple Supper ended, giue me leaue,

In this cloſe Walke, to satisfie my ſelfe,

In crauing your opinion of my Title,

Which is inſalable, to Englands Crowne.

Salisb. My Lord, I long to heare it at full.

Warw. Sweet Yorke begin: and if thy clayme be good,
The Neuills are thy Subieſts to command.

Yorke. Then thus :

Edward the third, my Lords, had ſeuen Sonnes :

The firſt, Edward the Black-Prince, Prince of Wales ;

The ſecond, Williams of Hatfield ; and the third,

Lionel, Duke of Clarence ; next to whom,

Was John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaſter ;

The firſt, was Edmond Langley, Duke of Yorke ;

The firſt, was Thomas of Woodſtock, Duke of Gloſter ;

William of Windfor was the ſeuenth, and laſt.

Edward the Black-Prince dyed before his Father,

And left behinde him Richard, his onely Sonne,

Who after Edward the third's death, raign'd as King,

Till Henry Bullingbrooke, Duke of Lancaſter,

The eldeſt Sonne and Heire of John of Gaunt,

Crownd by the Name of Henry the fourth,

Seiz'd on the Réalme, depoſ'd the rightuſul King,

Sent his poore Queene to France, from whence he came,
And

And him to Pumfret; where, as all you know,
Harmeleffes Richard was murthered traiterouly.

Warm. Father, the Duke hath told the truth;

Thus got the House of Lancaster the Crowne.

Torke. Which now they hold by force, and not by right:
For Richard, the first Sonnes Heire, being dead,
The Ille of the next Sonne should haue reign'd.

Salisb. But William of Hatfield dyed without an
Heire.

Torke. The third Sonne, Duke of Clarence,
From whose Line I clayme the Crowne,
Had Ille Phillip, a Daughter,
Who married Edmond Mortimer, Earle of March:
Edmond had Ille, Roger, Earle of March;
Roger had Ille, Edmond, Anne, and E. lianor.

Salisb. This Edmond, in the Reigne of Bullingbrooke,
As I haue read, layd clayme vnto the Crowne,
And but for Owen Glendour, had beene King; †
Who kept him in Captiuitie, till he dyed.
But, to the reft.

Torke. His eldest Sifter, Anne,
My Mother, being Heire vnto the Crowne,
Marryed Richard, Earle of Cambridge,
Who was to Edmond Langley,
Edward the thirds Sift Sonnes Sonne;
By her I clayme the Kingdome:
She was Heire to Roger, Earle of March,
Who was the Sonne of Edmond Mortimer,
Who married Phillip, sole Daughter
Vnto Lionel, Duke of Clarence.

So, if the Ille of the elder Sonne
Succeed before the younger, I am King.

Warm. What plaine proceedings is more plain then this?
Henry doth clayme the Crowne from Iohn of Gaunt,
The fourth Sonne, Yorke claymes it from the third:
Till Lionel's Ille fayles, his should not reigne.
It fayles not yet, but flourishes in thee,
And in thy Sonnes, faire flippes of such a Stock.
Then Father Salisbury, kneele we together,
And in this priuate Plot be we the first,
That shall falute our rightfull Soueraigne
With honor of his Birth-right to the Crowne.

Both. Long liue our Soueraigne Richard, Englands
King.

Torke. We thanke you Lords:
But I am not your King, till I be Crown'd,
And that my Sword be ftayn'd
With heart-blood of the House of Lancaster:
And that's not suddenly to be perform'd,
But with aduice and silent fecreie.
Doe you as I doe in these dangerous dayes,
Wirke at the Duke of Suffolkes insolence,
At Beaufords Pride, at Somerfets Ambition,
At Buckingham, and all the Crew of them,
Till they haue finar'd the Shepheard of the Flock,
That vertuous Prince, the good Duke Humfrey:
'Tis that they seeke; and they, in seeking that,
Shall finde their deaths, if Torke can prophecie.

Salisb. My Lord, breake we off; we know your minde
at full.

Warm. My heart affures me, that the Earle of Warwick
Shall one day make the Duke of Yorke a King.

Torke. And Neill, this I doe affure my selfe,
Richard shall liue to make the Earle of Warwick
The greatest man in England, but the King.

Exeunt.

Sound Trumpets. Enter the King and State,
with Guard, to banish the Duchess.

King. Stand forth Dame Elianor Cobham,
Glosters Wife:

In fight of God, and vs, your guilt is great,
Receue the Sentence of the Law for finne,
Such as by Gods Booke are adiudg'd to death.
You foure from hence to Prifon, back againe;
From thence, vnto the place of Execution:
The Witch in Smithfield shall be burnt to ashes,
And you three shall be ftrangled on the Gallowes.
You Madame, for you are more Nobly borne,
Defoyled of your Honor in your Life,
Shall, after three dayes open Penance done,
Lie in your Countrey here, in Banifhment,
With Sir John Stanly, in the Ile of Man.

Elianor. Welcome is Banifhment, welcome were my
Death.

Gloft. Elianor, the Law thou feest hath judged thee,
I cannot iustifie whom the Law condemnnes:
Mine eyes are full of teares, my heart of griefe.
Ah Humfrey, this diſhonor in thine age,
Will bring thy head with forrow to the ground,
I befeech your Maieſtie giue me leaue to goe;
Sorrow would ſollace, and mine Age would eafe.

King. Stay Humfrey, Duke of Glofter,
Ere thou goe, giue vp thy Staffe,
Henry will to himselfe Protector be,
And God shall be my hope, my ſtay, my guide,
And Lanthorne to my ſeete:
And goe in peace, Humfrey, no leſſe beſou'd,
Then when thou wert Protector to thy King.

Queene. I fee no reafon, why a King of yeeres
Should be to be protected like a Child,
God and King Henry gouerne Englands Realme:
Giue vp your Staffe, Sir, and the King his Realme,
Gloft. My Staffe? Here, Noble Henry, is my Stafe:
As willingly do I the fame resigne,
As ere thy Father Henry made it mine;
And even as willingly at thy ſeete I leave it,
As others would ambitiously receiue it.
Farewell good King: when I am dead, and gone,
May honorable Peace attend thy Throne.

Exit Glofter.

Queene. Why now is Henry King, and Margaret Queene
And Humfrey, Duke of Glofter, Icarce himselfe,
That beares fo ſhrewd a mayme: two Pulls at once;
His Lady banisht, and a Limbe lopt off.
This Staffe of Honor raught, there let it stand,
Where it beſt fits to be, in Henries hand.

Stoff. Thus droupes this loftie Pyne, & hangs his spray
Thus Elianors Pride dyes in her youngeſt dayes.
Torke, Lords, let him goe. Pleafe it your Maieſtie,
This is the day appointed for the Combat,
And ready are the Appellant and Defendant,
The Armorer and his Man, to enter the Lifts,
So pleafe your Highneſſe to behold the fight.

Queene. I, good my Lord: for purposely therefore
Left I the Court, to fee this Quarrell try'd.
King. A Gods Name fee the Lyfts and all things fit,
Here let them end it, and God defend the right.
Torke. I neuer saw a fellow worſe beſtead,
Or more afraid to fight, then is the Appellant,
The ſeruant of this Armorer, my Lords.

129

Enter at one Door: the Armorer and his Neighbors, drinking to him so much, that bee so much; and he enters with a Drumme before him, and his Staffe, with a Sand-bagge fastened to it; and at the other Door: his Man, with a Drumme and Sand-bagge, and Prentices drinking to him.

1. **Neighbor.** Here Neighbour Horner, I drinke to you in a Cup of Sack; and feare not Neighbor, you shall do well enough.

2. **Neighbor.** And here Neighbour, here's a Cuppe of Charneco.

3. **Neighbor.** And here's a Pot of good Double-Beere Neighbor: drinke, and feare not your Man.

Armorer. Let it come yfaith, and Ile pledge you all, and a figge for Peter.

1. **Prent.** Here Peter, I drinke to thee; and be not afraid.

2. **Prent.** Be merry Peter, and feare not thy Master, Fight for credit of the Prentices.

Peter. I thanke you all: drinke, and pray for me, I pray you, for I thinke I haue taken my last Draught in this World. Here Robin, and if I dye, I give thee my Apotome; and Will, thou sfralt haue my Hammer: and here Tom, take all the Money that I haue. O Lord bleſſe me, I pray God, for I am neuer able to deale with my Master, hee hath learnt ſomuch fence already.

Salub. Come, leane your drinking, and fall to blowes, Sirha, what's thy Name?

Peter, Peter forfooth.

Salub. Peter? what more?

Peter. Thumpe.

Salub. Thumpe? Then fee thou thumpe thy Master well.

Armorer. Maſters, I am come hither as it were vpon my Mans inſigature, to proue him a Knaue, and my ſelfe an honest man: and touching the Duke of Yorke, I will take my death, I neuer meant him any ill, nor the King, nor the Queene: and therefore Peter haue at thee with a downe-right blow.

Torke. Dilpatch, this Knaues tongue begins to double. Sound Trumpets, Alarum to the Combarrants.

They fight, and Peter strikes him downe.

Armorer. Hold Peter, hold, I confess me, I confess Treason.

Torke. Take away his Weapon: Fellow thanke God, and the good Wine in thy Maſters way.

Peter. O God, haue I ouercome mine Enemies in this preſence? O Peter, thou haſt preuayl'd in right.

King. Goe, take hence that Traytor from our fight, For by his death we doe perceiue his guilt, And God in Luſtice naath reuail'd to vs The truth and innocence of this poore fellow, Which he had thought to haue murther'd wrongfully. Come ſellow, follow vs for thy Reward.

Spend a flourish.

Exeunt.

Enter Duke Humfrey and his Men in
Morning Cloakes.

Gloſt. Thus ſometimes hath the brighte day a Cloud: And after Summer, euermore ſuccedes: Barren Winter, with his wrathfull nipping Cold; So Cares and Ioyes abound, as Seafons fleet.
Sir, what's a Clock?

Seru. Tenne, my Lord.

Gloſt. Tenne is the houre that was appointed me,
To watch the comming of my punſit Duchefle:

Vnneath may ſhee endure the Flintie Streets,

To treade them with her tender-feeling feet.

Sweet Nell, ill can thy Noble Minde abrooke

The abieſt People, gazing on thy face,

With enuious Lookes laughing at thy ſhame,

That eſt did follow thy prowd Chariot-Wheeleſ,

When thou didſt ride in triumph through the streets.

But ſoft, I thinke ſhe comes, and Ile prepare

My teare-staynd eyes, to fee her Miferies.

Enter the Duchefle in a white Sheer, and a Taper
burning in her hand, with the Sherife
and Officers:

Seru. So please your Grace, wee'll take her from the
Sherife.

Gloſter. No, floure not for your lues, let her paffe by.

Elianor. Come you, my Lord, to fee my open ſhame? Now thou doſt Penance too, Looke how they gaze, See how the giddy multitude doe poin't, And nodde their heads, and throw their eyes on thee.

Ah Gloſter, hide thee from their hatefull looks,

And in thy Gloſet pent vp, true my ſhame,

And banne thine Enemies, both mine and thine.

Gloſt. Be patient, gentle Nell, forget this griefe.

Elianor. Ah Gloſter, teach me to forget my ſelfe:

For whileſt I thinke I am thy married Wifę,

And thou a Prince, Proteſor of this Land;

Me thinkes I should not thus beled along,

Mayl'd vpin ſhame, with Papers on my backs,

And follow'd with a Rabble, that reioycy

To fee my teares, and beare my deepe-fact groanes.

The ruthleſse Flint doth cut my tender ſeers,

And when I ſtart, the enuious people laugh,

And bid me be aduised how I treade.

Ah Humſrey, can I beare this ſhamefull yoake?

Troweſt thou, ere I leoke vpon the World,

Or count them happy, that enoyes the Sunne?

No: Darke shall be my Light, and Night my Day.

To thinke vpon my Pompe, shall be my Hell.

Sometime Ile ſay, I am Duke Humſreyes Wifę,

And he a Prince, and Ruler of the Land:

Yet ſo he rul'd, and ſuch a Prince he was,

As he flood by, whileſt I, his forlorne Duchefle,

Was made a wonder, and a pointing ſtock

To euery idle Raſcail follower.

But be thou milde, and bluſh not at my ſhame,

Nor floure at nothing, till the Axe of Death

Hang ouer thee, as ſure it ſhortly will.

For Suffolke, he that can doe all in all.

With her, that hateth thee and hates vs all,

And Torke, and impious Beauford, that falſe Priſt,

Have all lym'd Bushes to betray thy Wings,

And flye thou how thou canſt, they'le tangle thee.

But feare not thou, vntill thy foot be flat d,

Nor neuer feeke preuention of thy foes.

Gloſt. Ah Nell, forbeare: thou aymest all awry.

I muſt offend, before I be attained:

And had I twentie times ſo many foes,

And each of them had twentie times their power,

All theſe could not procure me any ſcath,

So long as I am loyall, true, and crimeleſſe.

Would'ſt haue me reſcue thee from this reproach?

Why

Why yet thy scandall were not wipt away,
But I in danger for the breach of Law.

Thy greatest helpe is quiet, gentle Nell:
I pray thee for thy heart to patience,

I pray thee for thy heart to patience,
These few dayes wonder will be quickly worne.

Enter a Herald.

Her. I summon your Grace to his Maiesties Parliament,
Holden at Bury, the first of this next Moneth.

Gloster. And my consent ne're ask'd herein before?

This is cloſe dealing. Well, I will be there.
My Nell, I take my leaue: and After Sherife,

My Nell, I take my leaue: and After Sherife,
Let not her Penance exceed the Kings Commission.

Sh. And't please your Graee, here my Commission stayes:
And Sir John Stanley is appointed now,
To take her with him to the Isle of Man.

Gloster. Must you, Sir John, protec't my Lady here?

Stanley. So am I given in charge, may't please your
Grace.

Gloster. Entreat her not the worſe, in that I pray
You vſe her well: the World may laugh againe,
And I may live to doe you kindneſſe, if you doe it her.
And so Sir John, farewell.

Elianus. What, gone my Lord, and bid me not fare-
well?

Gloster. Witneſſe my teares, I cannot fly to ſpeakes.

Exit Gloster.

Elianus. Art thou gone to? all comfort goe with thee,
For none abides with me: my Ioy, is Death;
Death, at whose Name I oft haue beene aſeaf'd,
Because I wifd this Worlds eternitie,

Stanley, I prethee goe, and take me hence,

I care not whither, for I begge no fauor ;

Onely conuey me where thou art commanded,

Stanley. Why, Madame, that is to the Isle of Man,
There to be vs'd according to your State.

Elianus. That's bad enough, for I am but reproach:
And shall I then be vs'd reproachfully?

Stanley. Like to a Duchefſe, and Duke Humphreys Lady,
According to that State you shall be vs'd.

Elianus. Sherife farewell, and better then I fare,

Although thou haſt beene Conduct of my ſhame.

Sherife. It is my Office, and Madame pardon me.

Elianus. I, I, farewell, thy Office is diſcharg'd:

Come Stanley, shall we goe?

Stanley. Madame, your Penance done,

Throw off this Sheet;

And goe, we to attyre you for our Journey.

Elianus. My ſhame will not be shifted with my Sheet:
No, it will hang vpon my richet Robes,
And ſhew it ſelſe, attyre me how I can.

Goe, leade the way, I long to see my Prifon.

Exeunt

Sound a Senet. Enter King, Queene, Cardinall, Suffolke,
Torke, Buckingham, Salisbury, and Warwickic,
to the Parliament.

King. I muſe my Lord of Gloſter is not come:
'Tis not his want to be the hindmoſt man,
What e're occafion keepeſ him from vs now.

Queen. Can you not ſee? or will ye not obſerue
The ſtrangeneſſe of his alter'd Countenance?

With what a Maiſeſt he beares himſelſe,
How insolent of late he is become,

How prouſd, how peremptorie, and vnlike himſelſe.
We know the time ſince he was milde and affable,
And if we did but glance a farre-off Looke,
Immediately he was vpon his Knee,

That all the Court admir'd him for ſubmission.
But meet him now, and be it in the Morne,

When euery one will giue the time of day,
He knits his Brow, and ſhewes an angry Eye,
And paffeth by with fliffe vnbowed Knee,
Disdaining dutie that to vs belongs.

Small Curres are not regarded when they gryne,
But great men tremble when the Lyon totes,

And Humſrey is no little Man in England.
First note, that he is neere you in dilent,

And should you fall, he is the next will mount.

Me ſeemeth tnen, it is no Pollicie,
Respeſting what a rancorous minde he beares,
And his aduantage following your deceafe,
That he should come about your Royall Perſon,
Or be admitted to your Highneſſe Councell.

By flatterie hath he wonne the Common's hearts :

And when he please to make Commotion,
'Tis to be fear'd they all will follow him.

Now 'tis the Spring, and Weeds are shallow-rooted,

Suffer them now, and they'le o're-grow the Garden,
And choake the Herbes for want of Husbandry.

The reuerent care I beare vnto my Lord,
Made me collect thefe dangers in the Duke.

If it be fond, call it a Womans ſeare:

Which ſeare, if better Reaſons can ſupplant,
I will ſubſcribe, and ſay I wrong'd the Duke.

My Lord of Suffolke, Buckingham, and Yorke,
Reproue my allegation, if you can,

Or eſſe conclude my words effectuall.

Suff. Well hath your H.ighneſſe ſeene into this Duke:

And had I firſt beene put to ſpeake my minde,
I thinke I should haue told your Graces Tale.

The Duchefſe, by his ſubornation,

Vpon my Life began her diuellifh praeſifes :

Or if he were not priuie to thatſe Faults,
Yet by reputing of his high diſent,

As next the King, he was ſucceſſue Heire,

And ſuch high vaunts of his Nobilitie,

Did inſtigate the Bedlam braineſick Duchefſe,

By wick'd meanees to frame our Soueraignes fall.

Smooth runnes the Water, where the Brooke is deep,
And in his ſimple ſhew he harbours Treason.

The Fox barkes not, when he would ſteale the Lambe.

No, no, my Soueraigne, Gloſter is a man

Vnfound'd yet, and full of deepe deceit.
Card. Did he not, contrary to forme of Law,
Deuile ſtrange deaths, for ſmall offences done ?

Torke. And did he not, in his Proteſtorship,
Leuie great ſummes of Money through the Realme,
For Souldiers pay in France, and neuer ſent it ?
By meanees whereof, the Townes each day revolten.

Buck. Tut, theſe are petty ſaults to ſaults unknowne.
Which time will bring to light in ſmooth Duke H.ampf.

King. My Lords at once: the care you haue of vs,
To mowe downe Thornes that would annoy our Foot,
Is worthy prayſe: but ſhall I ſpeak me my confidence,
Our Kinfman Gloſter is as innocent,

From meaning Treaſon to our Royall Perſon,

As is the ſucking Lambe, or harmeſeſſe Doue:
The Duke is vertuous, milde, and too well giuen,
To dreame on cuill, or to worke my downeſtall.

Qu. Ah what's more dangerous, then this ſond affaſſan
Seemeſs he a Doue? his feathers are but borow'd,
For hee's diſpoſed as the hatefull Rauen.

Is he a Lambe? his Skinne is surely lent him,

Fol

131

For hee's enclin'd as is the rauenous Wolues.
Who cannot feale a shape, that meanes decit?
Take heed, my Lord, the welfare of vs all,
Hangs on the cutting short that fraudfull man.

### Enter SomerSET.

Som. All health vnto my gracious Soueraigne.
King. Welcome Lord SomerSET: What Newes from France?

Som. That all your Interest in thofe Territories,
Is vtilerly bereft you : all is loft.

King. Cold Newes, Lord SomerSET: but Gods will be done.

Torke. Cold Newes for me: for I had hope of France,
As firmly as I hope for fertile England.
Thus are my Bioslomes blafed in the Bud,
And Caterpillers eate my Leaes away :
But I will remedie this gearre ere long,
Or sell my Title for a glorious Graue.

### Enter Glouceſter.

Gloſt. All happineſſe vnto my Lord the King:
Pardon, my Liege, that I haue ſtay'd so long.

Suff. Nay, Gloſter, know that thou art come too Soone,
Vnleſſe thou wert more loyall then thou art :

I doe arreſt thee of High Treafon here.

Gloſt. Well Suffolke, thou ſhalt not see me bluſh,
Nor change my Conſtance for this Arreſt:
A Heart vnſpotted, is not easily daunted.

The pureſt Spring is not ſo free from mudde,

As I am cleare from Treafon to my Soueraigne.

Who can accuſe me? wherein am I guiltie?

Torke. Tis thought, my Lord,

That you tooke Briees of France,
And being Protecſor, ſtay'd the Souldiers pay.

By meanes whereof, his Highneſſe hath loſt France.

Gloſt. Is it but thought to ?

What are they that thinke it ?

I neuer rob'd the Souldiers of their pay,

Nor euener had one penny Bribe from France,

So helpe me God, as I haue watcht the Night,
I, Night by Night, in fludying good for England.

That Doyt that are I wrefted from the King,

Or any Great I hoorded to my vfe,

Be brought againſt me at my Tryall day.

No: many a Pound of mine owne proper ſtore,

Because I would not taxe the needie Commons,

Hae I diſ-purſed to the Garrisons,

And neuer ask'd for reſtitution.

Card. It ſerues you well, my Lord, to ſay so much.

Gloſt. I ſay no more then truth, ſo helpe me God.

Torke. In your Protecſorſhip, neuer heard of,
That England was defam'd by Tyrannie.

Gloſt. Why'tis well known, that whiles I was Protecſor,
Pittie was all the fault that was in me :

For I should melt at an Offenders teares,

And lowly words were Ranſome for their fault:

Vnleſſe it were a bloody Murtherer,

Or foule ſelonious Theefe, that fleec'd poore paſſengers,
I neuer gaue them condigne paſnuthment.

Murther indeede, that bloodie ſinne, I tortur'd
Above the Felon, or what Trefpas ſelfe.

Suff. My Lord, theſe faults are eafe, quickly anſwer'd:
But mightier Crimes are lay'd vnto your charge,
Whereof you cannot easily purge your ſelfe.

I doe arreſt you in his Highneſſe Name,
And here commit you to my Lord Cardinall
To keepe, vntill your further time of Tryall.

King. My Lord of Gloſter, 'tis my ſpeciall hope,
That you will cleare your ſelfe from all ſuſpence,
My Conſcience tells me you are innocent.

Gloſt. Ah, gracious Lord, theſe dayes are dangerous:
Vertue is choakt with foule Ambition,

And Charitie chas'd hence by Rancours hand ;

Foule Subornation is predominant,

And Equitie exil'd your Highneſſe Land.

I know, their Complot is to haue my Life :

And if my death might make this Iland happy,

And proue the Period of their Tyraanie,

I would expend it with all willingneſſe.

But mine is made the Prologue to their Play :

For thousands more, that yet ſuſpect no perill,

Will not conclude their plotted Tragedie.

Beaufords red sparkling eyes blab his hearts malice,
And Suffolkes cloudie Brow his ſtormie hates.

Sharpe Buckingham vnburthens with his tongue,
The enuious Load that Jyes vpon his heart :

And dogged Torke, that reaches at the Moone,

Whose ouer-weening Arme I haue pluckt backe,

By falſe accuſe doth leuell at my Life.

And you, my Soueraigne Lady, with the reſt,

Cauleleſſe haue lay'd diſgraces on my head,

And with your best endeavour haue flir't vp

My lieſeft Liege to be mine Enemie :

I, all of you haue lay'd your heads together,

My ſelfe had notice of your Conuenticles,

And all to make away my guiltleſſe Life.

I ſhall not want falſe Witneſſe, to condemn me,

Nor ſtore of Treſaons, to augment my guilt:

The ancient Prouerbe will be well effected,

A Straſe is quickly found to beat a Dogge.

Card. My Liege, his rayling is intollerable.

If thofe that care to keepe your Royall Perſon

From Treſaons ſecret Knive, and Traytors Rage,

Be thus vprbrayed, chid, and rated at,

And the Offendor graunted ſcope of ſpeech,

'Twill make them coole in zeale vnto your Grace.

Suff. Hath he not twit our Soueraigne Lady here
With ignominious words, though Clarkely coucht ?

As if she had suborned ſome to iwere

Falſe allegations, to o'rethrow his ſtate.

Qu. But I can giue the loſer leaue to chide.

Gloſt. Farre truer I spoke then meant : I loſe indeede,

Befrew the winners, for they play'd me ſalſe,

And well ſuch loſers may haue leaue to ſpeake.

Buck. Hec'le wrefte the ſence, and hold vs here all day.

Lord Cardinall, he is your Prifoner.

Card. Sirs, take away the Duke, and guard him ſure.

Gloſt. Ah, thus King Henry throwes away his Crutch,
Before his Legges be firme to beare his Body.

Thus is the Shepheard beaten from thy ſide,

And Wolues are guarling, who shall gnaw thee first.

Ah that my ſeare were ſalſe, ah that it were ;

For good King Henry, thy decay I ſeare.

Exit Gloſter.

King. My Lords, what to your wisdomes ſeemeth best,
Doc, or vndoe, as if our ſelfe were here.

Queene. What, will your Highneſſe leaue the Parlia-
ment ?

King. I Margaret: my heart is droun'd with griefe,
Whole ſloud begins to flowe within mine eyes;

My Body round eugryt with miſerie :

n 2

For

For what's more miferable then Discontent?

Ah Vnckle *Humfrey*, in thy face I fee

The Map of Honor, Truth, and Loyalty:

And yet, good *Humfrey*, is the houre to come,
That ere I prou'd thee falfe, or fear'd thy faith.

What lowring Starre now envies thy eftate?
That these great Lords, and Margaret our *Queene*,

Doe seeke fubferion of thy harmeleſſe Life.

Thou neuer didſt them wrong, nor no man wrong:

And as the Butcher takes away the Calfe,

And binds the Wretch, and beats it when it flyes,
Bearing it to the bloody Slaughter-houſe;

Euen ſo remorſeleſſe haue they borne him hence:

And as the Damme runnes lowing vp and downe,
Looking the way her harmeleſſe young one went,

And can doe naught but wayle her Darlings loffe;
Euen ſo my ſelfe bewayles good Gloſters cafe

With ſad vnhelpefull teares, and with dimn'd eyes;
Looke after him, and cannot doe him good:

So mightie are his vowed Enemies.

His fortunes I will weepe, and'twixt each groane,
Say, who's a Traytor? Gloſter he is none.

Exit.

*Queene*. Free Lords:

Cold Snow melts with the Sunnes hot Beames:

Henry, my Lord, is cold in great Affaires,

Too full of foolſh pittie: and Gloſters ſhew

Beguiles him, as the mournefull Crocodile

With forrow Snares relenting paffengers;

Or as the Snake, rol'd in a flowring Banke,

With hinning checker'd flough doth ſting a Child,
That for the beautie thinkes it excellent.

Beleeue me Lords, were none more wife then I,

And yet herein I judge mine owne Wit good;

This Gloſter should be quickly rid the World,
To rid vs from the ſeaue we haue of him.

*Card*. That he should dye, is worthie pollicie,
But yet we want a Colour for his death:

'Tis meet he be condemn'd by courfe of Law.

*Suff.* But in my minde, that were no pollicie:

The King will labour full to faue his Life,

The Commons haply rife, to faue his Life;

And yet we haue but trituell argument,

More then miſtruſt, that ſhowes him worthy death.

*Yorke*. So that by this, you would not haue him dye.

*Suff.* Ah *Yorke*, no man alive, ſo faine as I.

*Yorke*. 'Tis *Yorke* that hath more reaſon for his death.

But my Lord Cardinall, and you my Lord of Suffolke,
Say as you thinke, and ſpeake it from your Soules:

Wer't not all one, an empty Eagle were fet,
To guard the Chicken from a hungry Kyte,

As place Duke *Humfrey* for the Kings Protecſor?

*Queene*. So the poore Chicken should be ſure of death.

*Suff.* Madame 'tis true: and wer't not madneſſe then,

To make the Fox furueyor of the Fold?

Who being accrue'd a craftie Murtherer,
His guilt should be but idly poſted ouer,
Becaufe his purpose is not executed.

No: let him dye, in that he is a Fox,
By nature prou'd an Enemie to the Flock,
Before his Chaps be ſtaynd with Crimſon blood,
As *Humfrey* prou'd by Reaſons to my Liege.

And doe not ſtand on Quillets how to ſlay him:

Be it by Gynnes, by Snares, by Subtletie,

Sleeping, or Waking, 'tis no matter how,

So he be dead; for that is good decet,
Which mates him firſt, that firſt intends decet.

*Queene*. Thrice Noble Suffolk, 'tis refolutely ſpoke.

*Suff.* Not refolute, except so much were done,
For things are often ſpoke, and Ieldome meant,
But that my heart accordeth with my tongue,
Seeing the deed is meritorious,

And to preferue my Soueraigne from his Foe,
Say but the word, and I will be his Prieſt.

*Card*. But I would haue him dead, my Lord of Suffolke,
Ere you can take due Orders for a Prieſt:

Say you confent, and confure well the deed,
And Ile prouide his Executioner,

I tender ſo the fatſetie of my Liege.

*Suff.* Here is my Hand, the deed is worthy doing.

*Queene*. And so ſay I:

*Yorke*. And I: and now we three haue ſpoke it,
It skills not greatly who impugnes our doome.

Enter a Poſſe.

*Poſſe*. Great Lords, from Ireland am I comeaine,
To ſignify, that Rebels there are vp,

And put the Englishmen vnto the Sword,
Send Succours (Lords) and ſtop the Rage beiime,
Before the Wound doe grow vncurable;

For being greene, there is great hope of helpe.

*Card*. A Breach that craues a quick expedient (poſſe,
What counſaile giue you in this weightie caufe?

*Yorke*. That Somerſet be ſent as Regent thither:
'Tis meet that luckie Ruler be imploy'd,
Witneſſe the fortune he hath had in France.

*Som.* If *Yorke*, with all his farre-ſet pollicie,
Had beene the Regent there, in flead of me,
He neuer would haue ſtay'd in France ſo long,

*Yorke*. No, not to lobe it all, as thou haſt done,
I rather would haue loft my Life betimes,
Then bring a burthen of dis-honour home,
By ſtaying there ſo long, till all were loft.
Shew me one skarre, character'd on thy Skinne,
Mens ſleſh prefer'd ſo whole, doe ſeldome winne.

*Qu.* Nay then, this ſparke will proue a raging fire,
If Wind and Fuell be brought, to feed it with:
No more, good *Yorke*, sweet Somerſet be ſill.
Thy fortune, *Yorke*, haſt thou beene Regent there,
Might happily haue prou'd farre worſe then his.

*Yorke*. What, worſe then naught? nay, then a ſhame
take all.

*Somerſet*. And in the number, thee, that wifed
ſhame.

*Card*. My Lord of Yorke, trie what your fortune is:
Th'vnciull Kernes of Ireland are in Armes,
And temper Clay with blood of Englishmen.
To Ireland will you leade a Band of men,
Collected choycely, from each Countie ſome,
And trie your hap againſt the Irifmen.

*Yorke*. I will, my Lord, ſo pleafe his Maietieſt.

*Suff.* Why, our Authoritie is his confent,
And what we doe eſtablish, he confirmes:
Then, Noble *Yorke*, take thou this Taske in hand,

*Yorke*. I am content: Prouide me Souldiers, Lords,
Whiles I take order for mine owne affaires.

*Suff.* A charge, Lord *Yorke*, that I will fee perform'd.
But now returne we to the falſe Duke *Humfrey*.

*Card*. No more for him: for I will deale with him,
That henceforth he shall trouble vs no more:

And ſo breake off, the day is almost ſpent,
Lord Suffolk, you and I muſt talke of that event.

Tork, My

133

Yorke. My Lord of Suffolk, within fourteene dayes
At Briftow I expect my Souldiers;
For there I shippe them all for Ireland.

Suff. Ile fee it truly done, my Lord of Yorke, Exeunt.

Maner Yorke.

Yorke. Now Yorke, or neuer, steele thy fearfull thoughts,
And change mi'doubt to resolution;
Be that thou hop'st to be, or what thou art;
Refigne to death, it is not worth th'enjoying:
Let pale-fac't feare keepe with the meane-borne man,
And finde no harbor in a Royall heart.

After the Spring, time showres, come thoght on thoght,
And not a thought, but thinkes on Dignitie.

My Brayne, more bufie then the laboring Spider,
Weaues tedious Snares to trap mine Enemies.

Well Nobles, well: 'tis politikely done,
To fend me packing with an Hoast of men:
I feare me, you but warme the starved Snake,
Who cheriſht in your breasts, will ſting your hearts,
Twas men I lackt, and you will giue them me;

I take it kindely: yet be wil well affur'd,

You put sharpe Weapons in a mad-mans hands.
Whiles I in Ireland nouriſh a mightie Band,

I will ſtire vp in England ſome Black Storrie,
Shall blowe ten thouſand Soules to Heauen, or Hell:
And this fell Tempeſt shall not ceafe to rage,

Vatill the Golden Circuit on my Head,
Like to the glorious Sunnes tranſparent Beames,
Doe calme the furie of this mad-bred Flawe.
And for a minifter of my intent,

I haue ſeduc'd a head-ſtrong Kentiſhman,
John Cade of Alhord,

To make Commotion, as full well he can,

Under the Title of John Mortimer.
In Ireland haue I ſeene this ſubborne Cade

Oppoſe himselfſe againſt a Troupe of Kernes,
And fought ſo long, till that his thighes with Darts
Were almoſt like a sharpe-quill'd Porpentine:

And in the end being ſeucſed, I haue ſeene
Him capre vpright, like a wilde Morifco,

Shaking the bloody Darts, as he his Bells.
Full often, like a ſhag-hay'd craftie Kerne,

Hath he conuerſed with the Enemie,
And vndifcouet'd, come to me againe,

And giuen me notice of their Villanies.

This Deuill ſub ſub my ſubſtitute;

For that John Mortimer, which now is dead,

In face, in gate, in ſpeech he doth reſembl'e.

By this, I haſt perceiſe the Commons minde,

How they affect the Houſe and Clayme of Yorke.

Say he be taken, ractt, and tortured;

I know, no paine they can infliſt upon him,
Will make him ſay, I mou'd him to thate Armes.

Say that he thrille, as 'tis great, like he will,
Why then from Ireland come I with my ſtrength,
And reape the Harueſt which that Raſcall ſow'd.

For Humsſrey; being dead, as he ſhall be,

And Henry put apart: the next for me.

Exit.

Enter two or three running over the Stage, from the
Murther of Duke Humſrey.

1. Runne to my Lord of Suffolk: let him know
We haue diſpatcht the Duke, as he commanded.

2. Oh, that it were to doe: what haue we done?
Did ſeuer heare a man ſo penitent? Enter Suffolk.

1. Here comes my Lord.

Suff. Now Sirs, haue you diſpatcht this thing?

1. I, my good Lord, hee's dead.

Suff. Why that's well ſaid. Goe, get you to my Houſe,
I will reward you for this venturous deed:

The King and all the Peeres are here at hand.

Hae you lay'd faire the Bed? Is all things well,
According as I gaue directions?

1. 'Tis, my good Lord.

Suff. Away, be gone.

Exeunt.

Sound Trumpets. Enter the King, the Queene,
Cardinal, Suffolk, Somerſet, with
Attendants.

King. Goe call our Vnckle to our prefence ſtraight:
Say, we intend to try his Grace to day,
If he be guiltie, as 'tis published.

Suff. Ile call him preſently, my Noble Lord.

Exit.

King. Lords take your places: and I pray you all
Proceed no ſtraiter 'gainſt our Vnckle Gloſter,
Then from true euidence, of good effecte,
He be approu'd in practife culpable.

Queene. God forbid any Malice I should preuayle,
That faultleſſe may condemne a Noble man:
Pray God he may acquit him of ſuſpicion.

King. I thank thee Nell, theſe wordes content me
much.

Enter Suffolk.

How now? why look'ſt thou pale? why trembleſt thou?
Where is our Vnckle? what's the matter, Suffolk?

Suff. Dead in his Bed, my Lord: Gloſter is dead.

Queene. Marry God forſend.

Card. Gods ſecret Iudgement: I did dreame to Night,
The Duke was dumbe, and could not ſpeake a word.

King ſounds.

Lu. How fares my Lord ? Helpe Lords, the King is
dead.

Som. Rere vp his Body, wring him by the Nofe.

Lu. Runne, goe, helpe, helpe: Oh Henry ope thine eyes.

Suff. He doth reniue againe, Madame be patient.

King. Oh Heauenly God.

Lu. How fares my gracious Lord?

Suff. Comfort my Soueraigne, gracious Henry com-
fort.

King. What, doth my Lord of Suffolke comfort me?

Came he right now to ſing a Rauens Note,
Whofe diſmal tune bereſt my Vitall powres;

And thinkes he, that the chirping of a Wren,
By crying comfort from a hollow breaſ,
Can chafe away the firſt-conceiued found?

Hide not thy poyſon with ſuch ſugred words,

Lay not thy hands on me: forbeare I ſay,
Their touch affrights me as a Serpents ſing.
Thou balefull Meſſenger, out of my fight:

Vpon thy eye-balls, murderous Tyrannie
Sits in grim Maieſtie, to fright the World.

Looke not vpon me, for thine eyes are wounding;

Yet doe not goe away: come Bafilſke,
And kill the innocent gazer with thy fight:

For in the ſhade of death, I shall finde ioy;
In life, but double death, now Gloſter's dead.

Queene. Why do you rate my Lord of Suffolke thus?

Although the Duke was enemie to him,
Yet he moſt Christian-like laments his death:

And for my ſelfe, Foe as he was to me,

Might liquid teares, or heart-offending groanes,
Or blood-confuming ſighes recall his Life;

n 3

I

I would be blinde with weeping, fique with grones,
Looke pale as Prim-rose with blood-drinking fighes,
And all to haue the Noble Duke alue.

What know I how the world may deeme of me?
For it is knowne we were but hollow Friends :
It may be iudg'd

It may be iudg'd made the Duke away,
So fhall my name with Slanders tongue be wounded,
And Princes Courts be fill'd with my reproach :
This get I by his death: Aye me vnhappie,
To be a Queene, and Crown'd with infamie.

King. Ah woe is me for Glofter, wretched man.

Queen. Be woe for me, more wretched then he is.
What, Doft thou turne away, and hide thy face ?
I am no loathsome Leaper, looke on me.

What Art thou like the Adder waxen deafe ?
Be poyfonous too, and kill thy forlorne Queene,
Is all thy comfort flut in Glosters Tombe ?
Why then Dame Elianor was neere thy ioy.

Ereft his Statue, and worftip it,
And make my Image but an Ale-houfe figne.

Was I for this nye wrack'd vpon the Sea,
And twice by awkward windie from Englands banke
Droue backe againe vnto my Natiue Clime.

What boaded this ? but well fore-warning windie
Did feeme to say, feeke not a Scorpions Neft,
Nor fet no footing on this vnkinde Shore.

What did I then ? But curft the gentle guft,
And he that loos'd them forth their Brazen Caues,
And bid them blow towards Englands bleffed shore,
Or turne our Sterne vpon a dreadfull Rocke :
Yet Ætolus would not be a murtherer,

Yet Ætolus would not be a murtherer,
But left that hatefull office vnto thee.
The pretty vaulting Sea refus'd to drown me,
Knowing that thou wouldst haue me drown'd on shore

Knowing that thou wouldst haue me drown'd on shore
With teares as falt as Sea, through thy vnkindeffle.
The splitting Rockes cowrd' in the sinking fands,
And would not dafh me with their ragged fides,
Because thy flinty heart more hard then they,
Might in thy Pallace, perifh Elianor.

The splitting Rockes cowrd' in the sinking fands,
And would not dafh me with their ragged fides,
Because thy flinty heart more hard then they,
Might in thy Pallace, perifh Elianor.
As farre as I could ken thy Chalky Cliffes,

As farre as I could ken thy Chalky Cliffs,
When from thy Shore, the Tempeft beate vs backe,
I tood vpon the Hatches in the ftorme:

I tood vpon the Hatches in the ftorme:
And when the duskie sky, began to rob
My earneft-gaping-fight of thy Lands view,
I tooke a cofly Iewell from my necke,
A Hart it was bound in with Diamonds,

A Hart it was bound in with Diamonds,
And threw it towards thy Land: The Sea recei'd it,
And fo I wifh'd thy body might my Heart :

And threw it towards thy Land: The Sea recei'd it,
And fo I wifh'd thy body might my Heart :
And euen with this, I loft faire Englands view,
And bid mine eyes be packing with my Heart,
And call'd them blinde and duskie Spectacles,

And call'd them blinde and duskie Spectacles,
For loofing ken of Albions wifhed Coast.
How often haue I tempted Suffolkes tongue
(The agent of thy foule inconstancie)

How often haue I tempted Suffolkes tongue
(The agent of thy foule inconstancie)
To fit and watch me as Afcanius did,
When he to madding Dido would vnfold

When he to madding Dido would vnfold
His Fathers Acts, commence'd in burning Troy.
Am I not witcht like her ? Or thou not falfe like him ?

His Fathers Acts, commence'd in burning Troy.
Am I not witcht like her ? Or thou not falfe like him ?
Aye me, I can no more: Dye Elmor,

Aye me, I can no more: Dye Elmor,
For Henry weepes, that thou doft liue so long.

Noſe within. Enter Warwicke, and many Commons.

War. It is reported, mighty Soueraigne,
That good Duke Humfrey Traiteroufly is murdred

By Suffolke, and the Cardinall Beaufords meanes:
The Commons like an angry Hime of Bues
That want their Leader, if scatter vp and downe,
And care not who they fling in his reuenge.
My selfe haue calm'd their ifpleenfull mutinie,
Vntil they heare the order of his death.

King. That he is dead good Warwick, 'tis too true,
But how he dyed, God knowes, not Henry:
Enter his Chamber, view his breathleſſe Corpses,
And comment then vpon his sodaine death.

War. That shall I do my Liege; Stay Salsburie
With the rude multitude, till I returne.

King. O thou that iudgeſt all things, flay my thoughts:
My thoughts, that labour to perfuade my ſoule,
Some violent hands were laid on Humfries life:
If my ſuſpect be falſe, forgiue me God,
For iudge ment onely doth belong to thee :
Faine would I go to chafe his palie lips,
With twenty thouſand kiffes, and to draine
Vpon his face an Ocean of ſalt teares,
To tell my loue vnto his dumbo deafe trunke,
And with my fingers feele his hand, vnfeeling :
But all in vaine are these meane Obſequies,

Bed put forth.

And to ſuruey his dead and earthy Image:
What were it but to make my forrow greater ?

Warw. Come hither gracious Soueraigne, view this
body.

King. That is to fee how deepe my graue is made,
For with his ſoule fled all my worldly folace:
For feeing him, I fee my life in death.

War. As purely as my ſoule intends to liue
With that dread King that tooke our flate vpon him,
To free vs from his Fathers wrathfull curſe,
I do beleeue that violent hands were laid
Vpon the life of this thrice-famed Duke.

Suf. A dreadfull Oath, ſworne with a ſolemn tongue:
What inſtance giues Lord Warwicke for his vow.

War. See how the blood is fetled in his face.
Oſt haue I feene a timely-parted Ghoſt,
Of aſhy ſembance, meager, pale, and bloodleſſe,
Being all defended to the labouring heart,
Who in the Confl ict that it holds with death,
Attraets the fanſe for aydance 'gainſt the enemy,
Which with the heart there cooles, and ne're returneth,
To bluſh and beautiſe the Cheeke againe.
But fee, his face is blacke, and full of blood :
His eye-balles further out, than when he liued,
Staring full gaftly, like a ſtrangled man :
His hayre vprear'd, his noſtrils ſtretcht with ſtrugling :
His hands abroad display'd, as one that graſpt
And tugg'd for Life, and was by ſtrength ſubdude,
Looke on the fleets his haire (you fee) is ſicking,
His well proportion'd Beard, made ruffe and rugged,
Like to the Summers Corne by Tempeſt lodged:
It cannot be but he was murdred heere,
The leaſt of all theſe ſignes were preable.

Suf. Why Warwicke, who should do the D. to death?
My selfe and Beauford had him in protection,
And we I hope fir, are no murtherers.

War. But both of you were vowed D. Humfries ſees,
And you (for ſooth) had the good Duke to keepe:
Tis like you would not feaſt him like a friend,
And 'tis well fee ne, he found an enemy.

Queen. Than you belike ſuſpect theſe Noblemen,
As guilty of Duke Humfries timeleſſe death.

135

Warw. Who finds the Heyfer dead, and bleeding fresh,
And fees falt-by, a Butcher with an Axe,
But will fusfect, twas he that made the flauager?
Who finds the Partridge in the Putocks Neft,
But may imagine how the Bird was dead,
Although the Kyce foare with vnbloudied Beake?
Euen so fuspitious is this Tragedie,

Qu. Are you the Butcher, Suffolk? where's your Knifè?
Is Beauford teard'd a Kyce? where are his Tallons?
Suff. I wearè no Knifè, to flauager sleeping men,
But here's a vengefull Sword, rufted with eafe,
That shall be fowred in his rancorous heart,
That flanders me with Murthers Crimon Badge.
Say, it thou dar't, prowd Lord of Warwickshire,
That I am faulter in Duke Humfreyes death.

Warw. What dares not Warwick, if falfe Suffolk dare
him?

Qu. He dares not calme his contumelous Spirit,
Not ceafe to be an arrogant Controller,
Though Suffolk dare him twentie thoufand times.

Warw. Madame be fitl : with reverencie may I fay,
For every word you ſpeake in his behalfe,
Is flander to your Royall Dignitie.

Suff. Blunt-witted Lord, ignoble in demeanor,
If euer Lady wrong'd her Lord fo much,
Thy Mother tooke into her blamefull Bed
Some ſterne vntutur'd Churle; and Noble Stock
Was graft with Crab-tree flippè, whose Fruit thou art,
And neuer of the Neulls Noble Race.

Warw. But that the guilt of Murther bucklers thee,
And I should rob the Deaths-man of his Fee,
Quitting thee thereby of ten thoufand thames,
And that my Soueraignes prefence makes me milde,
I would, falfe murd'rous Coward, on thy Knee
Make thee begge pardon for thy paffed ſpeech,
And fay, it was thy Mother that thou meant ſt,
That thou thy felfe waſt borne in Baſtardie;
And after all this fearefull Homage done,
Gue thee thy hyre, and ſend thy Soule to Hell,
Pernicious blood-fucker of sleeping men.

Suff. Thou ſhalt be waking, while I ſhed thy blood,
If from this prefence thou dar't goe with me.

Warw. Away euen now, or I will drag thee hence:
Vnworthy thou thou art, Ile cope with thee,
And doe ſome ſeruice to Duke Humfreyes Ghoſt.

Excenu.


King. What ſtronger Breſt-plate them a heart vntainted?
Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his Quarrell iuſt;
And he but naked, though lockt vp in Steele,
Whole Conſcience with Injuſtice is corrupted.

A noſe within.

Queene. What noſe is this ?

Enter Suffolk and Warwickes, with their
Weapons drawne.

King. Why how now Lords ?
Your wrathfull Weapons drawne,
Here in our prefence ? Dare you be ſo bold?
Why what tumultuous clamor haue we here?

Suff. The traytrous Warwick, with the men of Bury,
Set all upon me, mightie Soueraigne.

Enter Salisbury.

Salisb. Sirs ſtand apart, the King ſhall know your
minde.

Dread Lord, the Commons ſend you word by me,
Vnſelle Lord Suffolk straight be done to death,
Or banifhed faire Englands Territories,
They will by violence teare him from your Pallace,
And torture him with grieuous lingring death.
They fay, by him the good Duke Humfrey dy'd:
They fay, in him they feare your Highneſſe death;
And meere inſtinet of Loue and Loyaltie,
Free from a ſtubborne oppofite intent,
As being thought to contradict your Liking,
Makes them thus forward in his Banifhment.
They fay, in care of your moſt Royall Perſon,
That if your Highneſſe ſhould intend to fleeſe,
And charge, that no man ſhould diſturbe your reſt,
In paine of your diſlike, or paine of death;
Yet not withſtanding ſuch a ſtrait Ediſt,
Were there a Serpent ſeene, with forked Tongue,
That flyly glyded towards your Maieſtie,
It were but neceffarie you were wak't:
Leaſt being ſuffer'd in that harmeſull ſlumber,
The mortall Worme might make the ſleepe eternall.
And therefore doe they cry, though you forbid,
That they will guard you, where you will, or no,
From ſuch ſell Serpents as falſe Suffolk is;
With whoſe inuenomed and fatall ſting,
Your louing Vnckle, twentie times his worth,
They fay is ſhamefully bereſe of life.

Commons within. An anſwer from the King, my Lord
of Salisbury.

Suff. Tis like the Commons, rude vnpoliſht Hindes,
Could ſend ſuch Meſſage to their Soueraigne:
But you, my Lord, were glad to be imploy'd,
To ſhow how queint an Orator you are.
But all the Honor Salisbury hath wonne,
Is, that he was the Lord Embaſſador,
Sent from a ſort of Tinkers to the King.

Within. An anſwer from the King, or wee will all
breake in.

King. Goe Salisbury, and tell them all from me,
I thanke them for their tender louing care;
And had I not beene cited ſo by them,
Yet did I purpofe as they doe entreat:
For ſure, my thoughts doe hourly prophecie,
Mifchance vnto my State by Suffolkes meaneſ.
And therefore by his Maieſtie I ſweare,
Whose farre-vnworthie Deputie I am,
He ſhall not breathe the inſection in this ayre,
But three dayes longer, on the paine of death.

Qu. Oh Henry, let me pleade for gentle Suffolk.

King. Vincentle Queene, to call him gentle Suffolk.
No more I fay: if thou doſt pleade for him,
Thou wilt but adde encreafe vnto my Wrath.
Had I but fayd, I would haue kept my Word;
But when I ſweare, it is irreuocable:
If after three dayes ſpace thou here beeſt found,
On any ground that I am Ruler of,
The World ſhall not be Ranſome for thy Life.
Come Warwickes, come good Warwickes, goe with mee,
I haue great matters to impart to thee.
Exit.

Qu. Mifchance and Sorrow goe along with you,
Hearts Discontent, and ſowre Affliction,
Be play-fellowes to keepe you companie :
There's two of you, the Deuill make a third,
And three-fold Vengeance tend upon your ſteps.

Suff. Ceafe, gentle Queene, theſe Execrations,
And let thy Suffolk take his heauie leaue.

Queene. Fye

Queen. Eye Coward woman, and soft harted wretch,
Hast thou not spirit to curfe thine enemy.

Suf. A plague upon them : wherefore should I curfethem?

Would curses kill, as doth the Mandrakes grone,
I would inuent as bitter searching termes,
As curſt, as harſh, and horrible to heare,
Deliuer'd strongly through my fixed teeth,
With full as many lignes of deadly hate,
As leane-fac'd enuy in her loathsome cause.

My tongue should flumble in mine earneſt words,
Mine eyes should ſparkle like the beaten Flint,
Mine haire be fixt an end, as one diſtraſt:

I, every ioynt should ſeeme to curſe and ban,
And euen now my burthen'd heart would breake
Should I not curſe them. Poyſon be their drinke.

Gall, worſe then Gall, the daintieſt that they tafe:
Their ſweete ſhade, a groue of Cypreſſe Trees :

Their cheeſet Proſpect, murding Bafliſkes :

Their ſoſteſt Touch, as ſmart as Lyzards ſtings:

Their Muſſicke, frightfull as the Serpents hihſe,

And boading ſcreech-Owles, make the Conſort full.

All the foule terrors in darke feared hell—
Q. Enough ſweet Suffolke, thou torment'ſt thy ſelfe,
And these dread curses like the Sunne 'gainſt glaſſe,
Or like an ouer-charged Gun, recoile,
And turnes the force of them vpon thy ſelfe.

Suf. You bad me ban, and will you bid me leaue?

Now by the ground that I am banifh'd from,

Well could I curſe away a Winters night,

Though ſtanding naked on a Mountaine top,

Where byting cold would neuer let glaſſe grow,

And thinke it but a minute ſpent in ſport.

Qu. Oh, let me intreat thee ceaſe, giue me thy hand,
That I may dew it with my mournfull tea e:
Nor let the raine of heauen wet this place,
To waſh away my woſul Monuments.
Oh, could this kiffe be printed in thy hand,
That thou might'ſt thinke vpon these by the Sea,
Through whom a thouſand ſighs are breath'd for thee.

So get thee gone, that I may know my greeſe,
'Tis but furmiſ'd, whiles thou art standing by,

As one that ſurſets, thinking on a want:

I will repeale thee, or be well affur'd,

Aduenaure to be banifhed my ſelfe :

And banifhed I am, if but from thee.

Go, ſpeake not to me; euen now be gone.

Oh go not yet. Euen thus, two Friends condemn'd,
Embrace, and kiffe, and take ten thouſand leaues,
Loather a hundred times to part then dye;

Yet now farewell, and farewell Life with thee.

Suf. Thus is poore Suffolke ten times banifhed,
Once by the King, and three times thrice by thee.

'Tis not the Land I care for, wet' thou thence,

A Wilderneſſe is populous enough,

So Suffolke had thy heauenly company :

For where thou art, there is the World it ſelfe,

With euery ſeuerall pleasure in the World :

And where thou art not, Deſolation,

I can no more : Liue thou to ioy thy life;

My ſelfe no ioy in nought, but that thou liuſt.

ENTER Vaux.

Queene. Whether goes Vaux so far? What newes I
prethee?

Vaux. To ſignifie vnto his Maieſtý,
That Cardinall Beauford is at point of death:
For sodainly a greeneuous ſickneſſe tooke him,
That makes him gaspe; and ſtare, and catch the aire,
Blaspheming God, and curſing men on earth.

Sometime he talkes, as if Duke Humfries Ghoſt
Were by his ſide: Sometime, he calles the King,

And whispers to his pillow, as to him,

The ſecrets of his ouer-charged ſoule,
And I am ſent to tell his Maieſtý,

That euen now he cryes alowd for him.

Qu. Go tell this heavy Meſſage to the King.
Aye me! What is this World? What newes are theſe?
But wherefore greeue I at an heures poore ſolſe,
Omitting Suffolkes exile, my ſoules Treasur'e?

Why onely Suffolke mourne I not for thee?

And with the Southerne clouds, contend in teares?

Theirs for the earths encreaſe, mine for my forrowes.

Now get thee hence, the King thou know't is comming
If thou be found by me, thou art but dead.

Suf. If I depart from thee, I cannot liue,
And in thy fight to dye, what were it elle,
But like a pleafant slumber in thy lap?

Heere could I breath my ſoule into the ayre,

As milde and gentle as the Cradle-babe,

Dying with mothers dugge betweene it's lips,

Where from thy fight, I should be raging mad,

And cry out for thee to close vp mine eyes:

To haue thee with thy lippes to ſtop my mouth:

So should'ſt thou eyther turne my flying ſoule,

Or I should breathe it ſo into thy body,

And then it liu'd in ſweete Elizium.

To dye by thee, were but to dye in iſt,

From thee to dye, were torture more then death:

Oh let me ſlay, befall what may befall.

Queen. Away: Though parring be a fretfull corſore,
It is applied to a deathfull wound.

To France ſweet Suffolke: Let me heare from thee:

For wherefore thou art in this worlds Globe,
Ile haue an Iris that shall finde thee out.

Suf. Igo.

Qu. And take my heart with thee.

Suf. A Iewell lockt into the woſuſt Caske,

That euer did containe a thing of worth,

Euen as a ſplitted Barke, so ſunder we :

This way fall I to death.

Qu. This way for me.

Exen't

Enter the King, Salisbury, and Warwick, to the
Cardinal in bed.

King. How fare's my Lord? Speake Beauford to thy
Soueraigne.

Ca. If thou be dead, Ile giue thee Englands Treasur'
Enough to purchase such another Island,

So thou wilt let me liue, and feele no paine.
King. Ah, what a ſigne it is of euill life,

Where death's approach is ſcene ſo terrible.
War. Beauford, it is thy Soueraigne ſpeakes to thee.

Beau. Bring me vnto my Triall when you will.
Dy'd he not in his bed? Where should he dye?
Can I make men liue where they will or no?

Oh torture me no more, I will conſeſſe.
Aliue againe? Then ſhew me where he is,

Ile giue a thouſand pound to looke vpon him.

He hath no eyes, the duſt hath blinded them.

Combe

["The second Part of Henry the Sixt.", "137", "Combe downe his haire; looke, looke, it stands upright,\nLike Lime-twigs set to catch my winged foule :", "Gie me some drinke, and bid the Apothecarie\nBring the strong payon that I bought of him.", "", "King. Oh thou eternal moner of the heauens,", "Looke with a gentle eye upon this Wretch,\nOh beate away the bufie medling Fiend,", "That layes strong flege vnto this wretches foule,", "And from his bofome purge this blacke dispajre.", "War. See how the pangs of death do make him grin.", "Sal. Diflurbe him not, let him paffe peaceably.", "King. Peace to his foule, if Gods good pleasure be.", "Lord Cardnall, if thou think it on heauens bliffe,", "Hold vp thy hand, make fignall of thy hope,", "He dies and makes no figne: Oh God forgive him.", "War. So bad a death, argues a monſtous life.", "King. Forbeare to iudge, for we are finners all.", "Clove vp his eyes, and draw the Curtaine cloſe,", "And let vs all to Meditation.", "Exeunt.", "Alarum.", "Fight at Sea. Ordnanegoes off.", "Enter Lieutenant, Suffolke, and others.", "Lieu. The gaudy blabbing and remorſull day,\nIs crept into the boſome of the Sea :", "And now loud bouling Wolues arouſe the Jades", "That dragge the Tragicke melancholy night:", "Who with their drowſe, flow, and flagging wings", "Cleape dead-men's graves, and from their miffy Iawes,", "Breath foule contagious darkneſſe in the ayre :", "Therefore bring forth the Souldiers of our prize,", "for whilſt our Pinnace Anchors in the Downes,", "Heere ſhall they make their ranoſe on the land,", "Or with their blood ſtaine this diſcoloured ſhore.", "Maſter, this Prifoner freely giue me I thee,", "And thou that art his Mate, make boote of this :", "The other Walter Whitmore is thy ſhare.", "1. Gent. What is my ranoſe Maſter, let me know.", "Ma. A thousand Crownes, or else lay down your head", "Mate. And for much shall you giue, or off goes yours.", "Lieu. What thinke you much to pay 2000.Crownes,", "And beare the name and port of Gentlemen?", "Cut both the Villaines throats, for dy you ſhall :", "The liues of thofe which we haue loft in fight,", "Be counter-poys'd with ſuch a pettie ſumme.", "1. Gent. Ile giue it ſir, and therefore ſpare my life.", "2. Gent. And fo will I, and write home for it ſtraight.", "Whitm. Iloſt mine eye in laying the prize aboard,", "And therefore to reuenge it, ſhalt thou dye,", "And fo should theſe, if I might haue my will.", "Lieu. Be not ſo rafh, take ranoſe, let him liue.", "Suf. Looke on my George, I am a Gentlem an,", "Rate me at what thou wilt, then ſhalt be payed.", "Whit. And fo am I: my name is Walter Whitmore.", "How now? why starts thou? What doth death affright?", "Suf. Thy name affrights me, in whose found is death:\nA cunning man did calculate my birth,", "And told me that by Water I should dye:", "Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded,", "Thy name is Gualtier, being rightly founded.", "Whit. Gualtier or Walter, which it is I care not,", "Neuer yet did bafe diſhonour blurre our name,", "But with our ſword we wip'd away the blot.", "Therefore, when Merchant-like I fell reuenge,", "Broke be my ſword, my Armes torne and defaſ'd,", "And I proclaim'd a Coward through the world.", "Suf. Stay Whitmore, for thy Prifoner is a Prince,\nThe Duke of Suffolke, William de la Pole.", "Whit. The Duke of Suffolke, muffled vp in ragges ?", "Suf. I, but theſe ragges are no part of the Duke.", "Lieu. But Ioue was neuer ſaine as thou ſhalt be,\nObſcure and lowſe Swaine, King Henries blood.", "Suf. The honourable blood of Lancaſter\nMuſt not be ſhed by ſuch a iaded Groome :", "Haſt thou not kift thy hand, and held my ſtirrop ?", "Bare-headed plodded by my foot-cloth Mule,", "And thought thee happy when I ſhooke my head.", "How often haſt thou waited at my cup,", "Fed from my Trencher, kneel'd downe at the boord,\nWhen I haue feaſted with Queene Margarat?", "Remember it, and let it make thee Creſt-falne,", "I, and alay this thy abortiue Pride:", "How in our voying Lobby haſt thou ſlood,", "And duly wayted for my coming forth ?", "This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalſe,", "And therefore ſhall it charme thy riotous tongue.", "Whit. Speak Captaine, ſhall I ſtab the forlorn Swain.", "Lieu. First let my words ſtab him, as he hath me.", "Suf. Bafe ſlaue, thy words are blunt, and ſo art thou.", "Lieu. Conuey him hence, and on our long boats ſide,", "Strike off his head. Suf. Thou darſt not for thy owne.", "Lieu. Poole, Sir Poole? Lord,", "I kennell, puddle, ſinke, whose filth and dirt", "Troubles the filuer Spring, where England drinks:", "Now will I dam vp this thy yawning mouth,", "For fwallowing the Treasure of the Realme.", "Thy lips that kift the Queene, ſhall Iſweepe the ground:", "And thou that imſildt at good Duke Humfries death,", "Againſt the ſenſeleſſe windes ſhall grin in vaine,", "Who in contempt ſhall hiffe at thee againe.", "And wedded be thou to the Hagges of hell,", "For daring to affye a mighty Lord", "Vnto the daughter of a worthleſſe King,", "Having neyther Subiect, Wealth, nor Diadem :", "By diuellifth policy art thou growne great,", "And like ambitious Sylla ouer-gorg'd,", "With gobbers of thy Mother-bleeding heart.", "By thee Anion and Maine were ſold to France.", "The falſe reuolting Normans thorough thee,", "Difdaine to call vs Lord, and Piccardie", "Hath ſlaine their Gouernors, ſurpriz'd our Forts,", "And ſent the ragged Souldiers wounded home.", "The Princely Warwicke, and the Neuils all,", "Whofe dreadfull ſwords were neuer drawne in vaine,", "As hating thee, and rſing vp in armes.", "And now the House of Yorke thraſt from the Crowne,", "By ſhamefull murther of a guiltleſſe King,", "And lofty proud incroaching tyranny,", "Burnes with reuenging fire, whose hopefull colours", "Aduance our halſe-tac'd Sunne, ſtriuing to ſhine;", "Under the which is writ, Inmitis nubibus.", "The Commons heere in Kent are vp in armes,", "And to conclude, Reproach and Beggerie,", "Is crept into the Pallace of our King,", "And all by thee: away, conuey him hence.", "Suf. O that I were a God, to ſhoot forth Thunder", "Vpon theſe palry, ſeruile, abieſt Drudges :", {"bbox": [437,

138

By such a lowly Vassall as thy selfe.

Thy words moure Rage, and not remorſe in me:
I go of Mefflage from the Queene to France:

I charge thee waſt me faſely croſſe the Channell.

Lien. Water: W. Come Suffolke, I muſt waſt thee to thy death.

Suf. Pine gelidus timor occupat artus, it is thee I feare.

Wal. Thou ſhalt haue cauſe to ſeare before I leaue thee,
What, are ye danted now? Now will ye ſtoope.

I. Gent. My gracious Lord intreat him, ſpeak him fair.

Suf. Suffolkes Imperiall tongue is ſterne and rough:
Vs'd to command, vnaughted to pleade for ſauour.

Farre be it, we ſhould honor ſuch as theſe

With humble ſuite: no, rather let my head
Soope to the blocke, then theſe knees bow to any,
Saue to the God of heauen, and to my King:

And ſooner dance vpon a bloody pole,
Then ſtand vncouer'd to the Vulgar Groome.

True Nobility, is exempt from ſeare:

More can I beare, then you dare execute.

Lien. Hale him away, and let him talke no more:
Come Souldiers, ſhow what cruelly ye can.

Suf. That this my death may neuer be ſorget,
Great men oft dye by vilde Bezonions.

A Romane Sworder, and Bandetto ſlaue
Murder'd ſweet Tully. Brutn Baſtard hand

Stab'd Iulius Caſar. Sausage Iſlanders

Pompey the Great, and Suffolke dyes by Pyrats.

Exit Water with Suffolke.

Lien. And as for theſe whole ſanſome we haue ſet,
It is our pleasure one of them depart:

Therefore come you with vs, and let him go.

Exit Lieutenant, and the reſt.

Manet the first Gent.

Enter Walter with the body.

Wal. There let his head, and liuelfeſſe bodie lye,

Vntil the Queene his Miftris bury it.

Exit Walter.

I. Gent. O barbarous and blondy ſpectacle,

His body will I beare vnto the King:
If he reuenge it not, yet will his Friends,

So will the Queene, that liuing, held him deere.

Enter Beuus, and John Holland.

Beuus. Come and get thee a ſword, though made of a
Lath, they haue bene vp theſe two dayes.

Hol. They haue the more neede to ſleepe now then.

Beuus. I tell thee, Iacke Cade the Cloathier, meaſes to
dreſſe the Common-wealth and turne it, and ſet a new
nap vpon it.

Hol. So he had need, for'tis thred-bare. Well, I ſay,
it was neuer merrie world in England, ſince Gentlemen
came vp.

Beuus. O miferable Age : Vertue is not regarded in
Handy-crafts men.

Hol. The Nobilitie thinke ſcorne to goe in Leather
Aprons.

Beuus. Nay more, the Kings Councell are no good
Workemen.

Hol. True : and yet it is ſaid, Labour in thy Vocati-
on: which is as much to ſay, as let the Magiſtrates be la-
bouring men, and therefore ſhould we be Magiſtrates.

Beuus. Thou haſt hit it : for there's no better ſigne of a
braue minde, then a hard hand.

Hol. I ſee them, I ſee them : There's Beſts Sonne, the
Tanner of Wingham.

Beuus. Hee ſhall haue the skinnes of our enemies, to

make Dogges Leather of.

Hol. And Dicke the Butcher.

Beuus. Then is ſn trucke downe like an Oxe, and ini-
quities throate cut like a Calfe,

Hol. And Smith the Weauer.

Bew. Argo, their thred of life is ſpun.

Hol. Come, come, let's fall in with them.

Drumme.

Enter Cade, Dicke Butcher, Smith the Weauer,
and a Sawyer, with infinite numbers.

Cade. Wee Iohn Cade, so tearm'd of our ſuppoſed Fa-
ther.

But. Or rather of ſtealing a Cade of Herrings.

Cade. For our enemies ſhall ſaile before vs, inſpired
with the ſpirit of putting down Kings and Princes, Com-
mand ſilence.

But. Silence.

Cade. My Father was a Mortimer.

But. He was an honest man, and a good Bricklayer.

Cade. My mother a Plantagenet.

Bitch. I knew her well, ſhe was a Midwife.

Cade. My wife ſeſcended of the Lacies.

But. She was indeed a Pedlers daughter, & ſold many
Laces.

Weauer. But now of late, not able to trauell with her
furr'd Paſſe, ſhe waſhes buckes here at home.

Cade. Therefore am I of an honorable houſe.

But. I by my faith, the field is honourable, and there
was he borne, vnder a hedge: for his Father had neuer a
houſe but the Cage.

Cade. Valiant I am,

Weauer. A muſt needs, for beggery is valiant,

Cade. I am able to endure much.

But. No queſtion of that: for I haue ſeene him whiſh
three Market dayes together.

Cade. I ſeare neither ſword, nor ſire.

Wea. He neede not ſeare the ſword, for his Coſe is of
proofe.

But. But me thinks he ſhould ſtand in ſeare of ſire, be-
ing burnt i'th hand for ſtealing of Sheepe.

Cade. Be braue then, for your Captraine is Braue, and
Vowes Reformation. There ſhall be in England, ſeuers
halſe peny Loaues ſold for a peny: the three hoop'd pot,
ſhall haue ten hoopes, and I will make it ſellony to drink
ſmall Beere. All the Realme ſhall be in Common, and in
Cheapside ſhall my Palfrey go to graſſe: and when I am
King, as King I will be.

All. God ſaue your Maieſty.

Cade. I thanke you good people. There ſhall be no
mony, all ſhall eate and drinke on my ſcore, and I will
apparrell them all in one Liuery, that they may agree like
Brothers, and worſhip me their Lord.

But. The firſt thing we do, let's kill all the Lawyers.

Cade. Nay, that I meane to do. Is not this a lamenta-
ble thing, that of the skin of an innocent Lambe ſhould
be made Parchment; that Parchment being ſcribeld or,
ſhould vndoe a man. Some ſay the Bee ſtings, but I ſay,
'tis the Bees waxe: for I did but ſeale once to a thing, and
I was neuer mine owne man ſince. How now? Who's
there?

Enter a Clearke.

Weauer. The Clearke of Chartam: hee can write and
reade, and caſt accompt.

Cade. O monſtrous.

Wea. We tooke him ſetting of boyes Copies.

139

Cade. Here's a Villaine.

Waa. Ha's a Boone in his pocket with red Letters in't.
Cade. Nay then he is a Coniurer.

But. Nay, he can make Obligations, and write Court
hand.

Cade. I am sorry for't : The man is a proper man of mine Honour : voleſſe I finde him guilty, he ſhall not die. Come hither firraſh, I muſt examine thee : What is thy name?

Clearkes. Ennusuwell.

But. They vſe to write it on the top of Letters: 'Twill go hard with you.

Cade. Let me alone: Doſt thou vſe to write thy name? Or haſt thou a marke to thy ſelſe, like a honet plain deaſing man?

Clearkes. Sir I thanke God, I haue bin ſo well brought vp, that I can write my name.
All. He hath confed: away with him : he's a Villaine and a Traitor.

Cade. Away with him I lay : Hang him with his Pen and Inke-horne about his necke.

Exit one with the Clearkes

Enter Michael.

Mich. Where's our General?

Cade. Here I am thou particular fellow.

Mich. Fly, fly, fly, Sir Humsſrey Stafford and his brother are hard by, with the Kings Forces.

Cade. Stand villaine, stand, or Ile ſell thee downe : he shall be encountered with a man as good as himſelſe. He is but a Knight, is a?

Mich. No.

Cade. To equall him I will make my ſelſe a knight, preſently ; Rife vp Sir John Mortimer. Now haue at him.

Enter Sir Humsſrey Stafford, and his Brother,
with Drum and Soldiers.

Staf. Rebellious Hinds, the filth and ſcum of Kent,
Mark'd for the Gallowes: Lay your Weapons downe,
Home to your Cottages: forſake this Groome,
The King is mercifull, if you reuolt.

Bro. But angry, wrathfull, and inclin'd to blood,
If you go forward: therefore yeeld, or dye.

Cade. As for theſe filken-coated ſlaues I paffe not,
It is to you good people, that I ſpeake,
Ouer whom (in time to come) I hope to raigne:
For I am rightfull heyre vnto the Crowne.

Staſ. Villaine, thy Father was a Playſterer,
And thou thy ſelſe a Sheareman, art thou not?

Cade. And Adam was a Gardiner.

Bro. And what of that?

Cade. Marry, this Edmund Mortimer Earle of March,
married the Duke of Clarence daughter, did he not?

Staſ. I fir.

Cade. By her he had two children at one birth.

Bro. That's falſe.

Cade. I, there's the queſtion: But I lay, 'tis true :
The elder of them being put to nurse,

Was by a begger-woman ſtolne away,
And ignorant of his birth and parentage,
Became a Bricklayer, when he came to age,
His ſonne am I, deny it if you can.

But. Nay, 'tis too true, therefore he ſhall be King.

Waa. Sir, he made a Chimney in my Fathers houſe, &
the brickes are alue at this day to testifie it : therefore
deny it not.

Staſ. And will you credit this baſe Drudges Words,
that ſpeakes he knowes not what.

All. I marry will we : therefore get ye gone.

Bro. Iacke Cade, the D. of York hath taught you this.

Cade. He liyes, for I inuented it my ſelſe. Go too Sirrah, tell the King from me, that for his Fathers ſake Henry the fifth, (in whose time, boyes went to Span counter for French Crownes) I am content he ſhall raigne, but Ile be Protector ouer him.

Butcher. And furthermore, weel haue the Lord Sayes head, for ſelling the Dukedome of Maine.

Cade. And good reaſon : for thereby is England main'd
And faine to go with a ſtaſſe, but that my puſiance holds
it vp. Fellow-Kings, I tell you, that that: Lord Say hath
gelde the Commonwealth, and made it an Eunuch: &
more then that, he can ſpeake French, and therefore hee is
a Traitor.

Staſ. O groſſe and miſerable ignorance.

Cade. Nay anſwer if you can: The Frenchmen are our
enemies: go too then, I ask but this: Can he that ſpeaks
with the tongue of an enemy, be a good Councillour, or
no?

All. No, no, and therefore weel haue his head.

Bro. Well, seeing gentle words will not prenayle,
Aſſaile them with the Army of the King.

Staſ. Herald away, and throughout every Towne,
Proclaime them Traitors that are vp with Cade,
That theſe which flye before the battell ends,
May euen in their Wiues and Childrens fight,
Be hang'd vp for example at their doores :

And you that be the Kings Friends follow me. Exit.

Cade. And you that loue the Commons, follow me.

Now ſhew your ſelues men, 'tis for Liberty.

We will not leaue one Lord, one Gentleman.

Spare none, but ſuch as go in clouted ſhooen,

For they are thrifty honet men, and ſuch

As would (but that they dare not) take our parts.

But. They are all in order, and march toward vs.

Cade. But then are we in order, when we are moſt out
of order: Come, march forward.

Alarums to the fight, wherein both the Staffards are ſtaine.

Enter Cade and thereft.

Cads. Where's Dicke, the Butcher of Ashford?

But. Heere fir.

Cade. They fell before thee like Sheepe and Oxen, &
thou behaued it thy ſelſe, as if thou hadt beeen in thine
owne Slaughter-houſe: Therefore thus will I reward thee,
the Lent ſhall bee as long againe as it is, and thou ſhale
haue a Liceſe to kill for a hundred lacking one.

But. I defire no more.

Cade. And to ſpeake truth, thou deferuſt no leſſe,
This Monument of the viſory will I beare, and the bo-
dies ſhall be dragg'd at my horſe heelees, till I do come to
London, where we will haue the Maiors ſword born be-
fore vs.

But. If we meane to thrive, and do good, breake open
the Gaoles, and let out the Prisoners.

Cade. Feare not that I warrant thee, Come, let's march
towards London. Exeunt.

Enter the King with a Supplication, and the Queene with Suf-
folkes head, the Duke of Buckingham, and the

Lord Say.

Queene. Oſt haue I heard that greeſe softens the mind,
And

140

And makes it fearefull and degenerate,
Thinke therefore on reuenge, and ceafe to weepe.
But who can ceafe to weepe, and looke on this.

Heere may his head lye on my throbbing breast:
But where's the body that I should imbrace?

Buc. What anfwee makes your Grace to the Rebells
Supplication?

King. Ile ſend ſome holy Bifhop to intreat:
For God forbid, ſo many ſimple foules
Should perſih by the Sword. And I my ſelfe,
Rather then bloody Warre ſhall cut them ſhort,
Will parley with Iacke Cade their Generall.
But ſtay, Ile read it ouer once againe.

Qu. Ah barbarous villaines: Hath this louely face,
Rul'd like a wandering Plannet ouer me,
And could it not inſorce them to relent,
That were vnworthy to behold the fame.

King. Lord Say, Iacke Cade hath ſworne to huae thy
head.

Say. I, but I hope your Highneſſe ſhall haue his.
King. How now Madam?

Still lamenting and mourning for Suffolkes death?
I ſcare me (Loue) if that I had beene dead,
Thou wouldst not haue mourn'd ſo much for me.

Qu. No my Loue, I should not mourne, but dye for
thee.

Enter a Meſſenger.

King. How now? What newes? Why com it thou in
such haſte?

Mef. The Rebels are in Southwatke: Fly my Lord:
Iacke Cade proclaimes himſelfe Lord Mortimer,
Defended from the Duke of Clarence house,
And calles your Grace Vſurper, openly,
And vowes to Crowne himſelfe in Westminſter.
His Army is a ragged multitude
Of Hindes and Pezants, rude and mercileſſe:
Sir Humſrey Stafford, and his Brothers death,
Hath giuen them heart and courage to proceede:
All Schollers, Lawyers, Courtiers, Gentlemen,
They call ſalfe Catterpillers, and intend their death.

Kin. Oh graceleſſe men: they know not what they do.
Buck. My gracious Lord, retire to Killingworth,
Vntill a power be rais'd to put them downe.

Qu. Ah were the Duke of Suffolk now allue,
Thereke Kentiſh Rebels would be ſoone appeas'd.

King. Lord Say, the Traitors hateth thee,
Therefore away with vs to Killingworth.

Say. So might your Graces perſon be in danger:
The fight of me is odious in their eyes:
And therefore in this City will I flay,
And liue alone as ſecret as I may.

Enter another Meſſenger.

Mef. Iacke Cade hath gotten London-bridge.
The Citizens flye and forſake their houſes:
The Raſcail people, thirtling after prey,
Ioyne with the Traitor, and they ioyntly ſware
To poyle the City, and your Royall Court.

Buc. Then linger not my Lord, away, take horſe.

King. Come Margaret, God our hope will ſuccor vs.

Qu. My hope is gone, now Suffolk is deceaſt.

King. Farewell my Lord, truſt not the Kentiſh Rebels

Buc. Truſt no body for ſeare you betraid.

Say. The truſt I haue, is in mine innocence,

And therefore am I bold and refolute.

Enter Lord Scales vpon the Tower walking.
Then enter two or three Citizens below.

Exeunt.

Scales. How now? Is Iacke Cade ſlaſne?

I. Cit. No my Lord, nor likely to be ſlaſne:
For they haue wonne the Bridge,
Killing all thofe that withstand them:
The L. Maior kraues ayd of your Honor from the Tower
To defend the City from the Rebels.

Scales. Such ayd as I can ſpare you ſhall command,
But I am troubled heere with them my ſelfe,
The Rebels haue affay'd to win the Tower.
But get you to Smithfield, and gather head,
And thither I will ſend you Mathew Goffe.
Fight for your King, your Countrey, and your Liues,
And so farwell, for I muſt hence againe.

Exeunt.

Enter Iacke Cade and the reſt, and strikes his ſtaſſe on London stane.

Cade. Now is Mortimer Lord of this City,
And heere ſitting vpon London Stone,
I charge and command, that of the Cities coſt
The piling Conduit run nothing but Clarret Wine
This firſt yeare of our raigne.
And now henceforward it ſhall be Treason for any,
That calles me other then Lord Mortimer.

Enter a Soldiſer running.

Soul. Iacke Cade, Iacke Cade.

Cade. Knocke him downe there.

They kill him.

But. If this Fellow be wife, hee'l neuer call yet Iacke
Cade more, I thinke he hath a very faire warning,

Dicke. My Lord, there's an Army gathered together
in Smithfield.

Cade. Come, then let's go fight with them:
But firſt, go and fet London Bridge on fire,
And if you can, burne downe the Tower too.
Come, let's away.

Exeunt comites.

Alarums. Mathew Goffe is ſlain, and all the reſt,
Then enter Iacke Cade, with his Company.

Cade. So firſs: now go ſome and pull downe the Saury:
Others to't Innes of Court, downe with them all.

But. I haue a ſuite vnto your Lordship.

Cade. Bee it a Lordſhipp, thou ſhalt haue it for that
word.

But. Onely that the Lawes of England may come out
of your mouth.

John. Maſſe 'twill be ſore Law then, for he was throu
in the mouth with a Speare, and 'tis not whole yet.

Smith. Nay John, it will be ſtinking Law, for his breath
ſinkes with eating toasted cheeſe.

Cade. I haue thought vpon it, it ſhall bee ſo. Awa,
burne all the Records of the Realme, my mouth ſhall be
the Parliament of England.

John. Then we are like to haue biting Statutes
Vnſleſſe his teeth be pull'd out.

Cade. And hence-forward all things ſhall be in Com-
mon. Enter a Meſſenger.

Mef. My Lord, a prize, a prize, heeres the Lord Say,
which ſold the Townes in France. He that made vs pay
one and twenty Fifteenes, and one ſhilling to the pound,
the laſt Subſidie.

Exeunt.

141

Enter George, with the Lord Say.

Cade. Well, hee shall be beheaded for it ten times:
Ah thou Say, thou Surge, nay thou Buckram Lord, now
art thou within point-blanke of our Jurisdiction Regall.
What canst thou answer to my Maiefty, for giuing vp of
Normandie vnto Mounfieur Basfmece, the Dolphine of
France? Be it knowne vnto thee by thefe prefence, euen
the prefence of Lord Mortimer, that I am the Beefsome
that muft sweepe the Court cleane of such filth as thou
art: Thou haft moft traiteroufly corrupted the youth of
the Realme, inereeting a Grammar Schoole: and where-
as before, our Fore-fathers had no other Bookes but the
Score and the Tally, thou haft caufed printing to be vs'd,
and contrary to the King, his Crowne, and Dignity, thou
haft built a Paper-Mill. It will be proued to thy Face,
that thou haft men about thee, that visually talke of a
Nowne and a Verbe, and fuch abhominable wordes, as
no Christian eare can endure to heare. Thou haft appoint-
ted Luffices of Peace, to call poore men before them, a-
bout matters they were not able to anſwer. Moreover,
thou haſt put them in prifon, and because they could not
reade, thou haſt hang'd them, when (indeede) onely for
that caufe they hane beene moſt worthy to liue. Thou
doſt ride in a foot-cloth, doſt thou not?

Say. What of that?

Cade. Marry, thou ought'st not to let thy horfe weare
a Cloake, when honeſter men then thou go in their Hove
and Doubtles.

Dике. And worke in their ſhirt to, as my ſelfe for ex-
ample, that am a butcher.

Say. You men of Kent.

Dic. What ſay you of Kent.

Say. Nothing but this: 'Tis bona terra, mala genz.

Cade. Away with him, away with him, he ſpeaks La-
tine.

Say. Heare me but ſpeake, and beare mee where you
will:

Kent, in the Commentaries Cæsar writ,
Ister'm'd the cruel ſt place of all this Iſle:
Sweet is the Countr', because full of Riches,
The People Liberall, Valiant, Actiue, Wealthy,
Which makes me hope you are not void of pitty.
If Iold not Maine, I loft not Normandie,
Yet to recouer them would loose my life:
Iuſtice with fauour haue I always done,
Prayres and Teares haue mou'd me, Gifts could neuer.
When haue I ought exaſt at your hands?
Kent to maintaine, the King, the Realme and you,
Large gifts haue I beſtow'd on learned Clearkes,
Because my Booke preferr'd me to the King.
And feeling Ignorance is the curſe of God,
Knowledge the Wing wherewith we flye to heauen.
Vnleſſe you be poffeſt with diuelliſh ſpirits,
You cannot but forbeare to murther me:
This Tongue hath parlied vnto Forraigne Kings
For your behoofe.

Cade. Tút, when I truck'ft thou one blow in the field?

Say. Great men haue reaching hands;oft haue I truck
Thole that I neuer faw, and trucke them dead.

Gee. O monſtrous Coward! What, to come behinde
Folkes?

Say. These cheekes are pale for watching for your good
Cade. Giue him a box o'th'eare, and that wil make 'em
red againe.

Say. Long fitting to determine poore mens caufes,
Hath made me full of ſickneſſe and diſeafes.

Cade. Ye ſhall haue a hempen Candle then, & the help
of hatchet.

Dicke. Why doſt thou quiuer man?

Say. The Palfie, and not ſteare prouokes me.

Cade. Nay, he noddes at vs, as who should ſay, Ile be
euen with you. Ile fee if his head will stand ſeddier on
a pole, or no: Take him away, and behead him.

Say. Tell me: wherein haue I offended moſt?
Haue I affected wealth, or honor? ſpeake.

Are my Cheſts fill'd vp with exorted Gold?

Is my Apparell ſumptuous to behold ?

Whom haue I iniur'd, that ye ſeeke my death ?

These hands are free from guiltleſſe bloodshedding.

This breast from harbouring foule deceitfull thoughts.

O let me lie.

Cade. I ſeele remorſe in my ſelfe with his words: but
Ile bridle it: he ſhall dye, and it bee but for pleading ſo
well for his life. Away with him, he ha's a Familiar vn-
der his Tongue, he ſpeakes not a God's name. Goe, take
him away I ſay, and ſtrike off his head preſently, and then
breake into his Sonne in Lawes houſe, Sir James Cromer,
and ſtrike off his head, and bring them both vppon two
poles hither.

All. I ſhall be done.

Say. Ah Countrimen : If when you make your prair's,
God should be ſo obdurate as your ſelues :

How would it fare with your departed foules,

And therefore yet relent, and faue my life.

Cade. Away with him, and do as I command ye : the
proudeſt Peere in the Realme, ſhall not weare a head on
his shoulders, vnleſſe he pay me tribute : there ſhall not
a maid be married, but ſhe ſhall pay to me her Mayden-
head ere they haue it : Men ſhall hold of mee in Capite.
And we charge and command, that their wiues be as free
as heart can wifh, or tongue can tell.

Dicks. My Lord,

When ſhall we go to Cheapſide, and take vp commodi-
ties vpon our billes?

Cade. Marry preſently.

All. O brue.

Enter one with the heads.

Cade. But is not this brauer :

Let them kiffle one another : For they lou'd well

When they were aliuie. Now part them againe,

Leaſt they conſult about the giuing vp

Of ſome more Townes in France. Soldiers,

Deferre the ſpoile of the Citie vntill night:

For with the ſe borne before vs, in ſeed of Maces,

Will we ride through the ſtreetes, & at every Corner

Haue them kiffle. Away.

Exit

Alarums, and Retreat. Enter againes Cade,
and all his rabblement.

Cade. Vp Fifth ſtreete, downe Saint Magnes corner,
kill and knocke downe, throw them into Thames :

Sound a parley.

What noife is this I heare?

Dare any be bold to found Retreat or Parley

When I command them kill?

Enter

14.2

Enter Buckingham, and old Clifford.

Buc. I here they be, that dare and will difturb thee:
Know Cade, we come Ambassadors from the King
Vnto the Commons, whom thou haſt mifled,
And heere pronounce free pardon to them all,
That will forſake thee, and go home in peace.

Cliff. What ſay ye Countrimen, will ye relent
And yeeld to mercy, whilft'st offered you,
Or let a rabble leade you to your deaths.
Who loues the King, and will imbrace his pardon,
Fling vp his cap, and ſay, God faue his Maieſty.
Who hateth him, and honors not his Father,
Henry the fiſt, that made all France to quake,
Shake he his weapon at vs, and paſſe by.

All. God faue the King, God faue the King.

Cade. What Buckingham and Clifford are ye ſo braue?
And you bafe Pezants, do ye beleeue him, will you needs
be hang'd with your Pardons about your neckes? Hath
my ſword therefore broke through London gates, that
you should leaue me at the White-heart in Southwarke,
I thought ye would neuer haue giuen out theſe Armes til
you had recouered your ancient ſteedome. But you are
all Recreants and Daſtards, and delight to liue in ſlauerje
to the Nobility. Let them breake your backes with bur-
thenſ, take your houses ouer your heads, rauiſh your
Wives and Daughters before your faces. For me, I will
make ſhift for one, and ſo Gods Curſe light vppon you
all.

All. Wee'll follow Cade,
Wee'll follow Cade.

Cliff. Is Cade the ſonne of Henry the ſift,
That thus you do exclaime you'll go with him.
Will he conduct you through the heart of France,
And make the meaneſt of you Earles and Dukes ?
Alas, he hath no home, no place to flye too:
Nor knowes he how to liue, but by the ſpoile,
Vnleſſe by robbing of your Friends, and vs.
Wer't not a ſhame, that whilſt you liue at iarre,
The fearfull French, whom you late vanquihed
Should make a ſtart ore-feas, and vanquish you ?
Me thinkes already in this ciuill broyle,
I fee them Lording it in London ſtreets,
Crying Villiago vnto all they meete.

Better ten thousand bafe-borne Cades miſcarry,
Then you should ſtoope vnto a Frenchmans mercy.
To France, to France, and get what you haue loft:
Spare England, for it is your Native Coaſt:
Henry hath mony, you are ſtrong and manly:
God on our ſide, doubt not of Victorie.

All. A Clifford, a Clifford,
Wee'll follow the King, and Clifford.

Cade. Was euer Feather ſo lightly blowne too & fro,
as this multirude? The name of Henry the ſift, hales them
to an hundred miſchiefes, and makes them leaue mee de-
folate. I fee them lay their heads together to ſurprize
me. My ſword make way for me, for heere is no staying:
in deſpight of the diuels and hell, haue through the verie
middeſt of you, and heauens and honor be witneſſe, that
no want of reſolution in mee; but onely my Followers
bafe and ignominious treaſons, makes me betake mee to
my heeles.

Exit

Buck. What, is he fled? Go some and follow him,
And he that brings his head vnto the King,
Shall haue a thousand Crownes for his reward.

Exeunt some of them.

Follow me ſouldiers, wee'l deuife a meane,
To reconcile you all vnto the King.

Exeunt omnes.

Sound Trumpets. Enter King, Quene, and
Somerset on the Tarras.

King. Was euer King that ioy'd an earthly THRONE,
And could command no more content then I?
No sooner was I crept out of my Cradle,
But I was made a King, at nine months olde.
Was neuer Subieſt long'd to be a King,
As I do long and wiſh to be a Subieſt.

Enter Buckingham and Clifford.

Buc. Health and glad tydings to your Maieſty.

Kiu. Why Buckingham, is the Traitor Cade (urpuid?
Or is he but retir'd to make him ſtrong?

Enter Multitudes with Halters about their
Neckes.

Cliff. He is fled my Lord, and all his powers do yeel.
And humbly thus with halters on their neckes,
Expect your Highneſſe doome of life, or death.

King. Then heauen ſet ope thy euerlaſting gates,
To entertaine my wows of thankes and praiſe,
Souldiers, this day haue you redeem'd your lues,
And shew'd how well you loue your Prince & Countrie:
Continue still in this ſo good a minde,
And Henry though he be inſortunate,
Aſſure your ſelues will neuer be vnkinde:
And ſo with thankes, and pardon to you all,
I do diſmiffle you to your ſenerall Countries.

Enter a Messenger.

Mef. Pleaſe it your Grace to be aduertified,
The Duke of Yorke is newly come from Ireland,
And with a puifuff and a mighty power
Of Gallow-glaſſes and ſout Kernes,
Is marching hitherward in proud array,
And fill proclaimeth as he comes along,
His Armes are onely to remoue from thee
The Duke of Somerſet, whom he tearmes a Traitor.

King. Thus ſtands my ſlate, 'twixt Cade and Yorke
diſtrefſt,
Like to a Ship, that hauing ſcap'd a Tempeſt,
Is fraight way calme, and boorded with a Pyrate.
But now is Cade druien backe, his men diſpierc'd,
And now is Yorke in Armes, to ſecond him.
I pray thee Buckingham go and meete him,
And aske him what's the reaſon of theſe Armes :
Tell him, Ile ſend Duke Edmund to the Tower,
And Somerſet we will commit thee thither,
Vntill his Army be diſmift from him.

Somerset. My Lord,
Ile yeede my ſelſe to prifon willingly,
Or vnto death, to do my Countrie good.

King. In any cafe, be not to rough in terms,
For he is ſterce, and cannot brooke hard Language.
Buc. I will my Lord, and doubt not ſo to deale,
As all things shall redound vnto your good.

King. Come wife, let's in, and learne to govern better.
For yet may England curſe my wretched raigne.

Flourish.

Exeunt.

143

## Enter Cade.

Cade. Fye on Ambitions : fie on my felfe, that haue a
fword, and yet am ready to famifh. Thefe five daies haue
I hid me in thefe Woods, and durſt not peepe out, for all
the Country is laid for me : but now am I to hungry, that
if I might haue a Leafe of my life for a thouſand yeares, I
could ſtay no longer. Wherefore on a Bricke wall haue
I climb'd into this Garden, to ſee if I can eate Graſſe, or
pice a Sallet another while, which is not amiffe to coole
amans ſtomacade this hot weather : and I think this word
Sallet was borne to do me good: for many a time but for
a Sallet, my braine-pan had bene cleft with a brown Bill;
and many a time when I have beene dry, & brauely mari-
ching, it hath ſeru'd me inſtice of a quart pot to drinke
in: and now the word Sallet muſt ſerue me to feed on.

## Enter Iden.

Iden. Lord, who would lie turmoiled in the Court,
And may enjoy ſuch quiet walkes as theſe ?
This ſmall inheritance my Father left me,
Contenteth me, and wortb a Monarchy.
I feeke not to waxe great by others warning,
Or gather wealth I care not with what enuy :
Sufficeth, that I haue maintains my ſtate,
And fends the poore well pleased from my gate.

Cade. Heere's the Lord of the foſle come to ſeize me
for a ſtray, for entering his Fee-simple without Icaue. A
Villaine, thou wilt betray me, and get a 1000. Crowneſ
of the King by carrying my head to him, but I make
thee eate Iron like an Oſtridge, and ſwallow my Sword
like a great pin ere thou and I part.

Iden. Why rude Companion, whatſoever thou be,
I know thee not, why then ſhould I betray thee ?
Is not enough to breake into my Garden,
And like a Theſe to come to rob my grounds :
Climbing my walles inſpight of me the Owner,
But thou wilt braue me with theſe ſawcie terms ? A

Cade. Braue thee ? I by the beſt blood that euer was
broach'd, and beard thee to. Looke on mee well, I haue
eate no meate theſe ſiue dayes, yet come thou and thy
ſiue men, and if I doe not leaue you all as dead as a doore
naile, I pray God I may neuer eate graſſe more.

Iden. Nay, it ſhall neere be faid, while England ſtands,
That Alexander Iden an Eſquire of Kent,
Tooke oddes to combate a poore famiſht man.
Oppoſe thy ſledſt gazing eyes to mine,
See if thou canſt out-face me with thy lookes:
Set limbe to limbe, and thou art farre the leſſer:
Thy hand is but a finger to my ſift,
Thy legge a ſticke compared with this Trunchon,
My ſoorc shall fight with all the ſtrength thou haſt,
And if mine arme be heaued in the Ayre,
Thy graue is digg'd already in the earth :
As for words, whose greatneſſe anſwer's words,
Let this my ſword report what ſpeech forbeares.

Cade. By my Valour : the moſt compleate Champi-
on that euer I heard. Steele, if thou turne the edge, or
cut not out the burly bon'd Clowne in chines of Beeſe,
ere thou ſleepe in thy Sheath, I beſeech Joue on my knees,
thou mayſt be turn'd to Hohnails.

## Heere they Fight.

O I am flaine, Famine and no other hath flaine me, let ten

thouſand diuelles come againſt me, and giue me but the
ten meales I haue loſt, and I'de defie them all. Wither
Garden, and be henceforth a burying place to all that do
dwell in this house, becauſe the unconquered ſoule of
Cade is fled.

Iden. Is't Cade that I haue flain, that monſtrous traitor?
Sword, I will trallow theſe for this thy deede,
And hang theſe ore my Tombe, when I am dead.
Ne're ſhall this blood be wiped from thy point,
But thou ſhalt weare it as a Heralds coate,
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 neuer feared any,
am vanquified by Famine, nor by Valour.

Id. How much thou wrong ſt me, heauen be my iudge:
Die damned Wretch, the curſe of her that bare theſe :
And as I thrust thy body in with my ſword,
So with I, I might thrust thy ſoule to hell.
Hence will I dragge thee headlong by the heeles
Vnto a dunghill, which ſhall be thy graue,
And there cut off thy moſt virgacious head,
Which I will beare in triumph to the King,
Leauing thy trunke for Crowes to feed vpon.
Exit.

Enter Torke, and his Army of Irifh, with
Drum and Colours.

Tor. From Ireland thus comes York to claim his right,
And plucke the Crowne from feeble Henries head.
Ring Belles slowd, burne Bonfires cleare and bright
To entertaine great Englands lawfull King.
Ah Sancta Maresfas! who would not buy thee deere ?
Let them obey, that knowes not how to Rule,
This hand was made to handle nought but Gold.
I cannot giue due action to my words,
Except a Sword or Scepter ballance it,
A Scepter shall it haue, have I a ſoule,
On which I toſſe the Fleure-de-Luce of France.

## Enter Buckingham.

Whom haue we heere ? Buckingham to disturbe me ?
The king hath ſent him ſure : I muſt diſſemble.
Buc. Yorke, if thou mean't wel, I greet the well.
Tor. Humſrey of Buckingham: I accept thy greeting.
Art thou a Meſſenger, or come of pleasure.

Buc. A Meſſenger from Henry, our dread Liege,
To know the reaſon of theſe Armes in peace.
Or why, thou being a Subieſt, as I am,
Againſt thy Oath, and true Allegiance ſworne,
Should raſe ſo great a power without his leaue ?
Or dare to bring thy Force to neere the Court ?
Tor. Scarſe can I ſpeake, my Choller is ſo great.

Oh I could hew vp Rockes, and fight with Flint,
I am ſo angry at the ſaſtieſt tearmes.
And now like Aiax Telamonius,

On Sheepe or Oxen could I ſpend my ſiurie.
I am farre better borne then is the king :
More like a King, more Kingely in my thoughts.
But I muſt make faire weather yet a while,
Till Henry be more weakeſand I more ſtrong.
Buckingham, I prethee pardon me,
That I haue giuen no anſwer all this while:
My minde was troubled with deepe Melancholly.
The cauſe why I haue brought this Armie hithers

02

Is

Is to remove proud Somerset from the King,
Seditions to his Grace, and to the State.

Buc. That is too much preemption on thy part.

But if thy Armes be to no other end,

The King hath yeelded vnto thy demand :

The Duke of Somerset is in the Tower.

Torke. Vpon thine Honor is he Prifoner ?

Buck. Vpon mine Honor he is Prifoner.

Torke. Then Buckingham I do dismiffle my Powres.

Souldiers, I thank you all : disperſe your ſelues :

Meet me to morrow in S. Georges Field,
You ſhall haue pay, and euery thing you wifh.

And let my Soueraigne, vertuous Henry,

Command my eldeſt ſonne, nay all my ſonnes,

As pledges of my Fealtie and Loue,

Ile ſend them all as willing as I line :

Lands, Goods, Horſe, Armor, any thing I haue

Is his to vſe, to Somerset may die.

Buc. Yorke, I commend this kinde ſubmission,
We twaine will go into his Highneſſe Tent.

Enter King and Attendants.

King. Buckingham, doth Yorke intend no harme to vs

That thus he marcheth with thee arme in arme ?

Torke. In all ſubmission and humility,

Yorke doth preſent himſelfe vnto your Highneſſe.

K. Then what intends theſe Forces thou doſt bring ?

Tor. To heaue the Traitor Somerset from hence,

And fight againſt that monſtrous Rebell Cade,

Who ſince I heard to be diſcomſtied.

Enter Iden with Cades head.

Iden. If one ſo rude, and of ſomeane condition

May paffe into the preſence of a King :

Loe, I preſent your Grace a Traitors head,

The head of Cade, whom I in combat flew.

King. The head of Cade? Great God, how iuſt art thou ?

Oh let me view his Vifage being dead,

That liuing wrought me ſuch exceeding trouble.

Tell me my Friend, art thou the man that flew him ?

Iden. I was, an't like your Maiety.

King. How art thou call'd? And what is thy degree ?

Iden. Alexander Iden, that's my name.

A poore Eſquire of Kent, that loues his King.

Buc. So poffeſe it you my Lord, ? were not amiffle

He were created Knight for his good ſeruice.

King. Iden, kneele downe, rife vp a Knight.

We giue thee for reward a thousand Markes,

And will, that thou hencethorth attend on vs.

Iden. May Iden liue to merit ſuch a bountie,

And neuer liue but true vnto his Liege.

Enter Queene and Somerset.

K. See Buckingham, Somerset comes with th'Queene,
Go bid her hide him quickly from the Duke.

Qu. For thousand Yorkes he ſhall not hide his head,
But boldly fland, and front him to his face.

Tor. How now? Is Somerset at liberty ?

Then Yorke vuloſeth thy long impriſoned thoughts,

And let thy tongue be equall with thy heart.

Shall I endure the fight of Somerset?

Falſe King, why haſt thou broken faith with me,

Knowing how hardly I can brooke abuse?

King. Did I call thee? No: thou art not King :

Not fit to gouerne and rule multitudes,

Which dar it not, nor nor can it not rule a Traitor.

That Head of thine doth not become a Crowne :

Thy Hand is made to grasp a Palmers ſtaſſe,

And not to grace an aweful Princely Scepter.

That Gold, muſt round engiſt theſe browſes of mine,
Whofe Smile and Frowne, like to Achilles Speare
Is able with the change, to kill and cure.

Heere is a hand to hold a Scepter vp,

And with the fame to acte controlling Lawes :

Gie place : by heauen thou ſhalt rule no more
O're him, whom heauen created for his Rule.

Som. O monſtrous Traitor ! I arreſt thee Yorke
Of Capitall Treason, gainſt the King and Crowne :
Obeoy audacious Traitor, kneele for Grace.

Tor. Wold it haue me kneele? First let me ask of thee,

If they can brooke I bow a knee to man :

Sirrah, call in my ſonne to be my bale :

I know ere they will haue me go to Ward,

They'l pawne their ſwords of my infranchiſement.

Qu. Call hither Clifford, bid him come amaine,
To lay, if that the Baſtard boyes of Yorke
Shall be the Surety for their Traitor Father.

Torke. O blood-bespotted Neopolitan,
Out-craft of Naples, Englands bloody Scourge,
The ſonnes of Yorke, thy betters in their birth,
Shall be their Fathers baile, and bane to thofe
That for my Surety will refuse the Boyes.

Enter Edward and Richard.

See where they come, Ile warrant they'l make it good,

Enter Clifford.

Qu. And here comes Clifford to deny their bale.

Clif. Health, and all happineſſe to my Lord the King.

Tor. I thankee the Clifford: Say, what newes with thee?

Nay, do not fright vs with an angry looke :

We are thy Soueraigne Clifford, kneele againe;

For thy miſtaking ſo, We pardon thee.

Clif. This is my King Yorke, I do not miſtake,
But thou miſtakes me much to thinke I do,
To Bedlem with him, is the man growne mad.

King. I Clifford, a Bedlem and ambitious humor
Makes him oppoſe himſelfe againſt his King.

Clif. He is a Traitor, let him to the Tower,
And chop away that factious pate of his.

Qu. He is atreſted, but will not obey :

His ſonnes (he fayes) shall giue their words for him.

Tor. Will you not Sonnes?

Edw. I Noble Father, if our words will ſerue.

Rich. And if words will not, then our Weapons (hal

Clif. Why what a brood of Traitors haue we here?

Torke. Looke in a Glaſſe, and call thy Image to.

I am thy King, and thou a false-heart Traitor :

Call hither to the stake my two braue Beares,

That with the very shaking of their Chaines,

They may aſtonſh theſe ſell-lurking Curres,

Bid Salsbury and Warwicke come to me.

Enter the Earles of Warwicke, and
Salisbury.

Clif. Are theſe thy Beares? Wee'l bate thy Bears to death,
And manacle the Berard in their Chaines;
If thou dar't bring them to the bayting place.

Rich. Oft haue I feene a hot ore-weening Curre,
Run backe and bire, becauſe he was with-held,
Who being ſuffer'd with the Beares ſell paw,
Hath clapt his taile, betweene his legges and cride,
And ſuch a peecce of ſeruice will you do,

145

If you oppose your felues to match Lord Warwicke.

Clif. Hence heape of wrath, foule indigested lumpe,
As crooked in thy manners, as thy shape.

Tor. Nay we shall heate thee thorowly anon.

Clif. Take heede least by your heate you burne your
felues:

King. Why Warwicke, hath thy knee forgot to bow?
Old Salsbury, shame to thy filuer haire,
Thou mad misleader of thy brain-ficke fonne,
What wilt thou on thy death-bed play the Ruffian?
And feeke for sorrow with thy Spectacles?
Oh where is Faith? Oh, where is Loyalty?
If it be banifht from the froſtful head,

Where shall it finde a harbour in the earth?
Wilt thou go digge a graue to finde out Warre,
And shame thine honourable Age with blood?
Why art thou old, and want'ſt experience?
Or wherefore doſt abuse it, if thou haſt it?
For shame in dutie bend thy knee to me,
That bowes vnto the graue with mickle age.

Sal. My Lord, I haue considered with my ſelfe
The Title of this moſt renowned Duke,
And in my confidence, do repute his grace
The rightfull heyre to Englands Royall ſteate.

King. Haſt thou not ſworne Allegiance vnto me?

Sal. I haue.

Ki. Canſt thou disſpenſe with heauen for ſuch an oath?

Sal. It is great finne, to ſwreare vnto a finne :
But greater finne to keepe a ſinfull oath:

Who can be bound by any ſolemne Vow

To do a murd'rous deedee, to rob a man,

To force a fpotleſſe Virgins Chaſtitie,

To reaue the Orphan of his Patrimonie,

Towing the Widdow from her cuſtom'd right,

And have no other reaſon for this wrong,

But that he was bound by a ſolemne Oath?

Qu. A fubtle Traitor needs no Sophifter.

King. Call Buckingham, and bid him arme himselfe.

Torke. Call Buckingham, and all the friends thou haſt,
I am reſolu'd for death and dignitie.

Old Clif. The firſt I warrant thee, if dreames proue true

War. You were beſt to go to bed, and dreame againe,
To keepe thee from the Tempeſt of the field.

Old Clif. I am reſolu'd to beare a greater ſtorme,

Then any one canſt coniure vp to day :

And that Ile write vpon thy Burgonet,

Might I but know thee by thy houſed Badge.

War. Now by my Fathers badge, old *Nemis* Creſt,
The rampant Beare chain'd to the ragged ſtaffe,
This day Ile weare aloft my Burgonet,
As on a Mountain top, the Cedarine ſthewes,
That keepes his leaues inſpight of any ſtorme,
Euen to aſſright thee with the view thereof.

Old Clif. And from thy Burgonet Ile rend thy Beare,
And tread it vnder foot with all contempt,
Despight the Bearard, that proteſts the Beare.

To Clif. And to Armes vijſtorious Father,
To quell the Rebels, and their Complices.

Rich. Fie, Charitie for ſhame, ſpeake not in ſpight,
For you ſhall ſup with Iſt: Chriſt to night.

To Clif. Foule ſygmaticke that's more then thou
canſt tell.

Ric. If not in heanen, you'l ſureſ up in hell. Exequi
Enter Warwicke.

War. Clifford of Cumberland, 'tis Warwicke calles:
And if thou doſt not hide thee from the Beare,

Now when the angrie Trumpet founds alarum,
And dead mens cries do fill the empty ayre,
Clifford I ſay, come forth and fight with me,
Proud Northernne Lord, Clifford of Cumberland,
Warwicke is hoarſe with calling thee to armes.

Enter Yorke.

War. How now my Noble Lord? What all a-foot.

Tor. The deadly handed Clifford flew my Steed :

But match to match I haue encountried him,

And made a prey for Carrion Kytes and Crowes

Euen of the bonnie beaſt he loued ſo well,

Enter Clifford.

War. Of one or both of vs the time is come.

Tor. Hold Warwick: keeſt thee out ſome other chace
For I my ſelfe muſt hunt this Deere to death.

War. Then nobly Yorke, 'tis for a Crown thou fight'st:
As I intend Clifford to thrive to day,

It greecues my ſoule to leaue thee vnaſſail'd.

Exit War.

Clif. What ſeell thou in me Yorke?

Why doſt thou paſſe?

Torke. With thy braue bearing 'should I be in loue,

But that thou art to ſaſt mine enemie.

Clif. Nor should thy prouewe want praeſ & eſteeme,
But that 'tis ſhewne ignobly, and in Treaſon.

Torke. So let it helpe me now againſt thy ſword,

As I in iſtice, and true right expreſſe it.

Clif. My ſoule and bodie on the action both.

Tor. A dreadfull lay, addreſſe thee infantly.

Clif. La fina Corrone les eumenes.

Tor. Thus Warre hath giuen thee peace, for ſ art ſtill,
Peace with thy ſoule, heauen if it be thy will,

Enter yong Clifford.

Clif. Shame and Conſution all is on the rout,
Feare frames disorder, and disorder wounds

Where it ſhould guard. O Warre, thou ſonne of hell,

Whom angry heauens do make their minifter,

Throw in the frozen bosomes of our part,

Hot Coales of Vengeance. Let no ſouldler flye.

He that is truly dedicate to Warre,

Hath no ſelfe-loue: nor he that loues himſelfe,

Hath not eſſentially, but by circumſtance

The name of Valour. O let the vile world end,

And the premiſed Flarnes of the Last day,

Knit earth and heauen together.

Now let the generall Trumpet blow his blaſt,
Particularities, and pettie ſounds

To ceaſe. Was't thou ordain'd (deere Father)

To loose thy youth in peace, and to atcheue

The Siluer Luery of aduised Age,

And in thy Reuerence, and thy Chaire-dayes, thus

To die in Ruffian battell? Euen at this fight,

My heart is turn'd to ſtone: and while 'tis mine,

It shall be ſtony. Yorke, not our old men ſpaſes:

No more will I their Babes, Teares Virginall,

Shall be to me, euen as the Dew to Fire,

And Beautie, that the Tyrant oft reclaimes,

Shall to my flaming wrath, be Oyle and Flax:

Henceforth, I will not haue to do with pitty.

Meet I an infant of the house of Yorke,

Into as many gobbits will I cut it

As wilde *Medea* yong *Abfirtis* did.

In cruelty, will I ſeeke out my Fame.

Come thou new ruine of olde Cliffsords house:

As did Æneas old Anchyſes beare,

So beare I thee vpon my manly ſhoulders:

But then, Æneas bare a liuing lade;

Nothing

03

Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine.

Enter Richard, and SomerSET to fight.

Rich. So lye thou there :
For underneath an Ale-houſe paltry ſigne,
The Caſtle in S. Albons, Somerſet
Hath made the Wizard famous in his death :
Sword, hold thy temper; Heart, be wrathfull ſtill :
Priests pray for enemies, but Princes kill.

Fight.

Excursions.

Enter King, Queene, and others.

Qu. Away my Lord, you are flow, for ſhame away.
King. Can we outrun the Heauens? Good Margaret
ſtay.

Qu. What are you made of? You'l nor fight nor fly:
Now is it manhood, wifedome, and defence,
Toſgiue the enemy way, and to ſecure vs
By what we can, which can no more but flye.

Alarum a farre off.

If you be tane, we then ſhould fee the bottome
Of all our Fortunes : but if we haply ſcape,
(As well we may, if not through your negleſt)
We ſhall to London get, where you are lou'd,
And where this breach now in our Fortunes made
May readily be ſtoppt.

Enter Clifford.

Clif. But that my hearts on future miſcheefe ſet,
I would ſpeake blaſphemy ere bid you flye :
But flye you muſt: Vncureable diſcomſite
Reignes in the hearts of all our preſent parts.
Away for your reeleſe, and we will liue
To fee their day, and them our Fortune giue.
Away my Lord, away.

Exeunt

Alarum. Retreat. Enter Yorke, Richard, Warwicke, and Soldiers, with Drum & Colours.

Yorke. Of Salsbury, who can report of him,
That Winter Lyon, who in rage forgets
Aged contufions, and all brush of Time :
And like a Gallant, in the brow of youth,
Repaires him with Occaſion. This happy day
Is not it ſelfe, nor haue we wonne one foot,
If Salsbury be loſt.

Rich. My Noble Father:

Three times to day I holpe him to his horſe,
Three times beſtrid him: Thrice I led him off,
Perſwaded 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, looke where he comes.

Enter Salisbury.

Sal. Now by my Sword, well haſt thou ſought to day:
By th' Maſſe ſo did we all. I thanke you Richard.
God knowes how long it is I haue to liue:
And it hath pleas'd him that three times to day
You haue defended me from imminent death.
Well Lords, we haue not got that which we haue,
'Tis not enough our foes are this time fled,
Being oppoſites of ſuch repayring Nature.

Yorke. I know our safety is to follow them,
For (as I heare) the King is fled to London,
To call a preſent Court of Parliament :
Let vs purſue him ere the Writs go forth.
What ſayes Lord Warwicke, shall we after them?

War. After them: nay before them if we can:
Now by my hand (Lords) 'twas a glorious day.
Saint Albons battell wonne by famous Yorke,
Shall be eterniz'd in all Age to come.
Sound Drumme and Trumpets, and to London all,
And more ſuch dayes as theſe, to vs befall.

Exeunt

FINIS.

147

# The third Part of Henry the Sixt,
with the death of the Duke of
YORKE.

## Actus Primus.

## Scena Prima.

Alarum.

Enter Plantagenet, Edward, Richard, Norfolke, Mount-
ague, Warwicke, and Souldiers.

Warwicke.

Wonder how the King elcap'd our hands?

PL. While we purfu'd the Horfmen of y North,
He flynt ftole away, and left his men:

Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland,
Whofe Warlike eares could neuer brooke retreat,
Chear'd vp the drouping Army, and himfelfe.

Lord Clifford and Lord Stafford all a-breft

Charg'd our maine Battailles Front: and breaking in,
Were by the Swords of common Souldiers flaine.

Edw. Lord Staffords Father, Duke of Buckingham,
Is either flaine or wounded dangerous.

I deft his Beauer with a down-right blow :
That this is true (Father) behold his blood.

Mount. And Brother, here's the Earle of Wilſhires

Whom I encountr'd as the Battels ioyn'd. (blood,

Rich. Speake thou for me; and tell them what I did.

Plan. Richard hath beſt deferu'd of all my ſonnes :

But is your Grace dead, my Lord of Somerſter ?

Nor. Such hope haue all the line of John of Gaunt.

Rich. Thus do I hope to ſhake King Henries head.

Warw. And so doe I, victorious Prince of Yorke.

Before I fee thee feated in that THRONE,

Which now the Houſe of Lancaſter vnfures,

I vow by Heauen, theſe eyes ſhall neuer cloſe.

This is the Pallace of the ſcarefull King,

And this the Regall Seat: poffeffe it Yorke,

For this is thine, and not King Henries Heires.

Plant. Affift me then, Iweet Warwick, and I will,

For hither we haue broken in by force.

Norf. Weele all affift you: he that flyes, ſhall dye.

Plant. Thankes gentle Norfolke, ſtay by me my Lords,

And Souldiers ſtay and lodge by me this Night.

They goe vp.

Warw. And when the King comes, offer him no violence,
Vnleſſe he ſeeke to thrust you out perſorce.

Plant. The Queene this day here holds her Parliament,
But little thinkes we ſhall be of her counſaile,
By words or blowes here let vs winne our right.

Rich. Arm'd as we are, let's ſtay within this Houſe.

Warw. The bloody Parliament ſhall this be call'd,

Vnleſſe Plantagenet, Duke of Yorke, be King,

And bath full Henry depos'd, whose Cowardize
Hath made vs by-words to our enemies.

Plant. Then leaue me not, my Lords be refolute,
I meane to take poſſeffion of my Right.

Warw. Neither the King, nor he that loues him beſt,
The prowdeft hee that holds vp Lancaſter,

Dares fire a Wing, if Warwick ſhake his Bells.

Ile plant Plantagenet, root him vp who dares:

Reſolue thee Richard, clayme the English Crowne.

Flourish. Enter King Henry, Clifford, Northumberland,

Westmerland, Exeter, and the rest.

Henry. My Lords, looke where the flurdie Rebell fits,
Euen in the Chayre of State: belike he meanes,

Backt by the power of Warwicke, that ſalfe Peere,

To aspire vnto the Crowne, and reigne as King.

Earle of Northumberland, he flew thy Father,

And thine, Lord Clifford, & you both haue vow'd reueng'e
On him, his ſonnes, his fauorites, and his friends.

Northumb. If I be not, Heauens be reueng'd on me.

Clifford. The hope thereof, makes Clifford mourne in
Steele.

Westm. What, shall we ſuffer this? lets pluck him down,
My heart for anger burnes, I cannot brooke it.

Henry. Be patient, gentle Earle of Westmerland.

Clifford. Patience is for Poultroones, ſuch as he:

He durſt not fit there, had your Father liu'd.

My gracious Lord, here in the Parliament

Let vs affayle the Family of Yorke.

North. Well haſt thou ſpoken, Cousin be it so.

Henry. Ah, know you not the Citie fauours them,
And they haue troupes of Souldiers at their beck?

Westm. But when the Duke is flaine, they'le quickly
flye.

Henry. Farre be the thought of this from Henries heart,
To make a Shambles of the Parliament Houſe.

Cousin of Exeter, frownes, words, and threats,
Shall be the Warre that Henry meanes to vſe.

Thou faſtious Duke of Yorke, deſend my THRONE,
And kneele for grace and mercie at my ſeet,

I am thy Soueraigne.

Yorke. I am thine.

Exet. For ſhame come downe, he made thee Duke of
Yorke.

Yorke. It was my Inheritance, as the Earledome was.

Exet. Thy

The third Part of Henry the Sixt.

Exet. Thy Father was a Traytor to the Crowne.
Warw. Exeter thou art a Traytor to the Crowne,
In following this vfurping Henry.
Clifford. Whom should hee follow, but his natural

Clifford. Whom should hee follow, but his natural King?

Warw. True Clifford, that's Richard Duke of Yorke.
Henry. And shall I stand, and thou fit in my Throne?
Yorke. It must and shall be so, content thy selfe.
Warw. Be Duke of Lancafter, let him be King.

Warw. Be Duke of Lancafter, let him be King.
Weſtm. He is both King, and Duke of Lancafter.
And that the Lord of Westmerland shall maintaine.

Warw. And Warwick (shall disproue it. You forget,
That we are those which chas'd you from the field,
And flew your Fathers, and with Colours spread
Marcht through the Citie to the Palace Gates.

Northumb. Yes Warwick, I remember it to my griefe,
And by his Soule, thou and thy Houſe shall rue it.
Warw. Plantagenet, of thee and theſe thy Sonnes,

Thy Kinfmen, and thy Friends, Ile haue more liues
Then drops of blood were in my Fathers Veines.

Cliff. Vrge it no more, left that in ftead of words,
I fend thee, Warwick, such a Meſſenger,
As shall reuenge his death, before I ſtirre.

Warw. Poore Clifford, how I ſcorne his worthleſſe
Threats.

Plant. Will you weſh our Title to the Crowne?
If not, our Swords ſhall pleade it in the field.

Henry. What Title haſt thou Traytor to the Crowne?
My Father was as thou art, Duke of Yorke,
Thy Grandfather Roger Mortimer, Earle of March.

I am the Sonne of Henry the Fift,
Who made the Dolphin and the French to ſtoupe,
And ſeiz'd vpon their Townes and Provinces.

Warw. Talke not of France, ſith thou haſt loſt it all.
Henry. The Lord Proteſor loſt it, and not I:

When I was crown'd, I was but nine moneths old,

Rich. You are old enough now,

And yet me thinkes you looſe:

Father teare the Crowne from the Vſurpers Head.

Edward. Sweet Father, doe I, let it on your Head.

Mount. Good Brother,

As thou louſt and honoreſt Armes,

Let's fight it out, and not ſtand cauilling thus.

Richard. Sound Drummes and Trumpets, and the
King will flye.

Plant. Sonnes peace.

Henry. Peace thou, and giue King Henry leaue to ſpeake.

Warw. Plantagenet ſhal ſpeake firſt: Heare him Lords,
And be you filent and attentive too,

For he that interrupts him, ſhall not liue.

Hen. Think't thou, that I will leaue my Kinglye Throne,
Wherein my Grandfire and my Father fat?

No: firſt ſhall Warre vnpeople this my Realme;
I, and their Colours often borne in France,
And now in England, to our hearts great ſorrow,
Shall be my Winding-sheet. Why faint you Lords ?
My Title's good, and better farre then his.

Warw. Proue it Henry, and thou ſhalt be King.

Hen. Henry the Fourth by Conqueſt got the Crowne.

Plant. 'Twas by Rebellion againſt his King.

Henry. I know not what to ſay, my Titles weake:

Tell me, may not a King adopt an Heire ?

Plant. What then ?

Henry. And if he may, then am I lawfull King:
For Richard, in the view of many Lords,

Reſign'd the Crowne to Henry the Fourth,
Whose Heire my Father was, and I am his.

Plant. He roſe againſt him, being his Souſetaine,
And made him to reſigne his Crowne perſorce.

Warw. Suppofe, my Lords, he did it vnconſtrayn'd,
Thinke you 'twere preiudicall to his Crowne?

Exet. No: for he could not ſo reſigne his Crowne,
But that the next Heire ſhould ſucceed and reigne.

Henry. Art thou againſt vs, Duke of Exeter?

Exet. His is the right, and therefore pardon me.

Plant. Why whifper you, my Lords, and anſwer not?

Exet. My Conſcience tells me he is lawfull King.

Henry. All will reuolt from me, and turne to him,
Northumb, Plantagenet, for all the Clayme thou lay'st,
Thinke not, that Henry shall be ſo depos'd.

Warw. Depos'd he ſhall be, in deſpight of all,

Northumb. Thou art deceiu'd:

*Tis not thy Southerne power
Of Efſex, Norſolke, Suffolke, nor of Kent,
Which makes thee thus preſumptuous and proud,
Can fet the Duke vp in deſpight of me.

Clifford. King Henry, be thy Title right or wrong,
Lord Clifford, vowes to fight in thy defence:
May that ground gape, and ſwallow me alive,
Where I shall kneele to him that flew my Father.

Henry. Oh Clifford, how thy words reuiue my heart,

Plant. Henry of Lancaſter, reſigne thy Crowne?

What mutter you, or what confpire you Lords?

Warw. Doe right vnto this Princely Duke of Yorke,
Or I will fill the Houſe with armed men,
And ouer the Chayre of State, where now he ſits,
Write vp his Title with vſurping blood.

He ſtampes with his foot, and the Souldiers
ſhow them ſelues.

Henry. My Lord of Warwick, heare but one word,
Let me for this my life time reigne as King.

Plant. Conſirme the Crowne to me and to mine Heires,
And thou haſt reigne in quiet while thou liuſt.

Henry. I am content: Richard Plantagenet

Enjoy the Kingdome after my decaſe.

Clifford. What wrong is this vnto the Prince, your
Sonne?

Warw. What good is this to England, and him ſelfe?

Weſtm. Bafe, ſearefull, and deſpayring Henry.

Clifford. How haſt thou iniur'd both thy ſelfe and vs?

Weſtm. I cannot ſay to heare theſe Articles.

Northumb. Nor I.

Clifford. Come Couſin, let vs tell the Queene theſe

Newes.

Weſtm. Farwell faint-hearted and degenerate King,
In whose cold blood no ſparke of Honor bides.

Northumb. Be thou a prey vnto the Houſe of Torky,
And dye in Bands, for this vnmanly deed.

Cliff. In dreadfull Warre may it thou be ouercome,
Or liue in peace abandon'd and deſpied.

Warw. Turne this way Henry, and regard them not.

Exeter. They ſeeke reuenge, and therefore will not
yeeld.

Henry. Ah Exeter.

Warw. Why should you ſigh, my Lord ?

Henry. Not for my ſelfe Lord Warwick, but my Sonne,
Whom I vn naturally diſ-inherite.

But be it as it may: I here entayle

The Crowne to thee and to thine Heires for euer,
Conditionally, that heere thou take an Oath,
To ceaſe this Ciuill Warre: and whil't it liues,

To

149

To honor me as thy King, and Soueraigne:

And neyther by Treafon nor Hoftilitie,

To feeke to put me downe, and reigne thy selfe.

Plant. This Oath I willingly take, and will performe.

Warw. Long liue King Henry : Plantagenet embrace him.

Henry. And long liue thou, and thefe thy forward
Sonnes.

Plant. Now Torke and Lancafter are reconcil'd.

Exer. Accurst be he that feekes to make them foes.

Sanet. Here they come downe.

Plant. Farewell my gracious Lord, Ile to my Castle.

Warw. And Ile keepe London with my Souldiers.

Norf. And I to Norfolke with my follower.

Mount. And I vnto the Sea, from whence I came.

Henry. And I with griefe and forrow to the Court.

Enter the Queene.

Exeter. Heere comes the Queene,

Whole Lookes be wray her anger:

Ile fteale away.

Henry. Exeter so will I.

Queene. Nay, goe not from me, I will follow thee.

Henry. Be patient gentle Queene, and I will flay.

Queene. Who can be patient in fuch extreames?

Ah wretched man, would I had dy'd a Maid?
And neuer feene thee, neuer borne thee Sonne,
Seeing thou haft prou'd so vn naturall a Father,
Hath he deferu'd to loofe his Birth-right thus ?

Hadft thou but lou'd him halfe so well as I,
Or felt that paine which I did for him once,
Orournifh him, as I did with my blood ;
Thou would'ft have left thy dearest heart-blood there,
Rather then haue made that ſauage Duke thine Heire,
And dif-inherited thine onely Sonne.

Prince. Father, you cannot dif-inherite me:
If you be King, why should not I ſucceede?

Henry. Pardon me Margaret, pardon me sweet Sonne,
The Earle of Warwick and the Duke enforc't me.

Quee. Enforc't thee? Art thou King, and wilt be forc't?
I shame to heare thee ſpeake: ah timorous Wretch,
Thou haſt vndone thy ſelfe, thy Sonne, and me,
And giu'n vnto the Houſe of Torke such head,
As thou haſt reigne but by their ſufferance.

To entayle him and his Heires vnto the Crowne,
What is it, but to make thy Sepulcher,

And creepe into it farre before thy time?

Warwick is Cancellor, and the Lord of Callice,
Sterne Falconbridge commands the Narrow Seas,
The Duke is made Proteſor of the Realme,
And yet haſt thou be ſafe ? Such ſafetie findes
The trembling Lambe, inuironned with Wolues.

Had I beene there, which am a filly Woman,
The Souldiers should haue toſ'd me on their Pikes,
Before I would haue granted to that Act.

But thou preferr'd thy Life, before thine Honor.

And feeing thou do'ſ't, I here diuorce my ſelfe,

Both from thy Table Henry, and thy Bed,

Vntill that Act of Parliament be repeal'd,
Whereby my Sonne is dif-inherited.

The Northerne Lords, that haue forſworne the Colours,
Will follow mine, if once they fee them ſpread :
And ſpread they ſhall be, to thy foule difgrace,
And vttter ruine of the Houſe of Torke.

Thus doe I leaue thee: Come Sonne, let's away,
Our Army is ready; come, wee'le after them.

Henry. Stay gentle Margaret, and heare me ſpeake.

Queene. Thou haſt ſpoke too much already: get thee gone.

Henry. Gentle Sonne Edward, thou wilt ſlay me?

Queene. I, to be murther'd by his Enemies.

Prince. When I returne with viktorie to the field,
Ile fee your Grace : till then, Ile follow her.

Queene. Come Sonne away, we may not linger thus,

Henry. Poore Queene,

How loue to me, and to her Sonne,

Hath made her breake out into termes of Rage.

Reueng'd may ſhe be on that hatefull Duke,

Whose haughtie ſpirit, winged with deſire,

Will coſt my Crowne, and like an empty Eagle,

Tyre on the ſlesh of me, and of my Sonne.

The loſſe of thofe three Lords torments my heart :

Ile write vnto them, and entreat them faire :

Come Couſin, you ſhall be the Meflenge.

Exer. And I, I hope, ſhall reconcile them all.

Exit.

Flourish. Enter Richard, Edward, and Mountague.

Richard. Brother, though I bee youngeſt, giue mee leaue.

Edward. No, I can better play the Orator.

Mount. But I haue reaſons ſtrong and forceable.

Enter the Duke of Torke.

Torke. Why how now Sonnes, and Brother, at a ſtrife?

What is your Quarrell? how began it firſt?

Edward. No Quarrell, but a flight Contention.

Torke. About what?

Rich. About that which concernes your Grace and vs,
The Crowne of England, Father, which is yours.

Torke. Mine Boy? not till King Henry be dead.

Richard. Your Right depends not on his life, or death.

Edward. Now you are Heire, therefore enioy it now:
By giuing the Houſe of Lancaſter leaue to breathe,
It will out-runne you, Father, in the end.

Torke. I tooke an Oath, that hee should quietly reigne.

Edward. But for a Kingdome any Oath may be broken;
I would breake a thousand Oathes, to reigne one yeere.

Richard. No: God forbid your Grace should be forſworne.

Torke. I ſhall be, if I clayme by open Warre.

Richard. Ile proue the contrary, if you'le heare me ſpeake.

Torke. Thou canſt not, Sonne : it is impoſſible.

Richard. An Oath is of no moment, being not tooke
Before a true and lawfull Magiftrate,

That hath authoritie ouer him that ſweares.

Henry had none, but did vſurpe the place.

Then feeing'twas he that made you to depoſe,
Your Oath, my Lord, is vaine and friuolous.

Therefore to Armes : and Father doe but thinke,

How ſweet a thing it is to weare a Crowne,

Within whose Circuit is Elizium,

And all that Poets ſaine of Bliffe and Ioy.

Why doe we linger thus? I cannot reſt,

Vntill the White Rofe that I weare, be dy'de

Euen in the luke-warme blood of Henriſt's heart.

Torke. Richard ynough: I will be King, or dye.

Brother, thou ſhalt to London prefently,

And whet on Warwick to this Enterprize.

Thou

Thou Richard shall to the Duke of Norfolkke,
And tell him priuily of our intent.
You Edward shall vnto my Lord Cobham,
With whom the Kentifshmen will willingly rife.
In them I truft: for they are Souldiers,
Wittie, courteous, liberall, full of spirit.
While you are thus imploy'd, what rcfeth more?
But that I seeke occasion how to rife,
And yet the King not priuie to my Drift,
Nor any of the House of Lancafter.

Enter Gabriel.

But stay, what Newes? Why comm'ft thou in such
poſte?

Gabriel. The Queene,
With all the Northerne Earles and Lords,
Intend here to beſiege you in your Castle.
She is hard by, with twentie thouſand men:
And therefore fortifie your Hold, my Lord.
Torke. I, with my Sword.
What? think'ſt thou, that we ſeare them?
Edward and Richard, you ſhall stay with me,
My Brother Mountague ſhall poſte to London.
Let Noble Warwickes, Cobham, and the rest,
Whom we haue left Protectors of the King,
With powrefull Pollicie strengthen themſelues,
And truſt not ſimple Henry, nor his Oathes.

Mount. Brother, I goe: Ile winne them, ſeare it not.
And thus moſt humbly I doe take my leaue.

Exit Mountague.

Enter Mortimer, and his Brother.

Torke. Sir John, and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine Vnckles,
You are come to Sandall in a happie houre.
The Armie of the Queene meane to beſiege vs.

John. Shee shall not neede, weele meete her in the
field.

Torke. What, with ſiue thouſand men?
Richard. I, with ſiue hundred, Father, for a neede.
A Woman's generall: what should we ſeare?

A March afarre off.

Edward. I heare their Drummes:
Let's fet our men in order,
And ſiue forth, and bid them Battaille ſtraight.

Torke. ſiue men to twentie: though the oddes be great,
I doubt not, Vnckle, of our Vicerie.

Many a Battaille haue I wonne in France,
When as the Enemie hath beene tenne to one:
Why should I not now haue the like ſucceſſe?

Alarum. Exit.

Enter Rutland, and his Tutor.

Rutland. Ah, whither I flye, to ſeape their hands?
Ah Tutor, looke where bloody Clifford comes.

Enter Clifford.

Clifford. Chaplaine away, thy Priefthood ſaues thy life.
As for the Brat of this accuſed Duke,
Whof Father flew my Father, he ſhall dye.

Tutor. And I, my Lord, will beare him company.

Clifford. Souldiers, away with him.

Tutor. An Clifford, murther not this innocent Child,
Leaſt thou be hated both of God and Man.

Clifford. How now? is he dead already?
Or is it ſeare, that makes him close his eyes?
Ile open them.

Rutland. So looks the pent-vp Lyon o're the Wreche,
That trembles vnder his deuouring Pawes:
And so he walkes, infuſing o're his Prey,
And so he comes, to rend his Limbes aſunder.
Ah gentle Clifford, kill me with thy Sword,
And not with ſuch a cruell threatening Looke.
Sweet Clifford heare me ſpeake, before I dye:
I am too meane a ſubieſt for thy Wrath,
Be thou reueng'd on men, and let me liue.

Clifford. In vaine thou ſpeak'ſt, poore Boy:
My Fathers blood hath ſtopt the paſſage
Where thy words should enter.

Rutland. Then let my Fathers blood open it againe,
He is a man, and Clifford cope with him.

Clifford. Had I thy Brethren here, their liues and thine
Were not reuenge ſufficient for me:
No, if I digg'd vp thy fore-fathers Graues,
And hung their rotten Coffins vp in Chaynes,
It could not flake mine ire, nor eafe my heart.
The fight of any of the House of Torke,

Is as a ſurie to torment my Soule:
And till I root out their accuſed Line,
And leaue not one aliume, I liue in Hell.

Therefore—

Rutland. Oh let me pray, before I take my death:
To thee I pray; I sweet Clifford pitty me.

Clifford. Such pitty as my Rapiers point affords.

Rutland. I neuer did thee harme: why wilt thou day
me?

Clifford. Thy Father hath.

Rutland. But 'twas ere I was borne,
Thou haſt one Sonne, for his ſake pitty me,
Leaſt in reenenge thereof, ſith God is iuſt,
He be as miserably ſlaine as I.
Ah, let me liue in Prisone all my dayes,
And when I giue occacion of offence,
Then let me dye, for now thou haſt no cause.

Clifford. No cause ? thy Father flew my Father; there
fore dye.

Rutland. Diſaſciant laudis ſumma fit a tue.

Clifford. Plantagenet, I come Plantagenet:
And this thy Sonnes blood cleauing to my Blade,
Shall ruſt vpon my Weapon, till thy blood
Congeal'd with this, doe make me wipe off both. Exit.

Alarum. Enter Richard, Duke of Torke.

Torke. The Army of the Queene hath got the field:
My Vnckles both are ſaine, in reſuing me:
And all my followers, to the eager foe
Turne back, and flye, like Ships before the Winde,
Or Lambes purſu'd by hunger-starued Wolues.
My Sonnes, God knowes what hath bechanced them:
But this I know, they haue demean'd themſelues
Like men borne to Renowne, by Life or Death.
Three times did Richard make a Lane to me,
And thrice cry'd, Courage Father, fight it out:
And full as oft came Edward to my fide,
With Purple Faulchion, painted to the Hilt;
In blood of thofe that had encomu'tred him:
And when the hardyſt Warriors did re'tyre,
Richard cry'd, Charge, and giue no foot of ground,
And cry'd, A Crowne, or else a glorious Tombe,

A

["The third Part of Henry the Sixt.", "A Scepter, or an Earthly Sepulchre.", {"bbox": [37, 101, 267,

How could it thou drayne the Life-blood of the Child,
To bid the Father wipe his eyes withall,
And yet be feene to beare a Womans face?

Women are soft, mild, pittifull, and flexible;
Thou faire, obdurate, flintie, rough, remorfeleffe.

Bist thou me rage? why now thou haft thy wifh.
Would it haue me weepe? why now thou haft thy will.

For raging Wind blowes vp ineffant flowers,
And when the Rage allayes, the Raine begins.
These Teares are my sweete Rutlands Obsequies,
And every drop cryes vengeance for his death,

'Gainst thee fell Clifford, and thee falſc French-woman.
Northumb. Behrew me, but his paffions moues me to,
That hardly can I check my eyes from Teares.

Torke. That Face of his,
The hungry Caniballs would not haue toucht,
Would not haue ftayn'd with blood:
But you are more inhumane, more inexorable,
Oh, tenne times more then Tygers of Hyrcania.

See, ruthleſſe Queene, a hapleſſe Father's Teares:
This Cloth thou dipp'd in blood of my sweet Boy,
And I with Teares doe wath the blood away.

Keepe thou the Napkin, and goe boast of this,
And if thou tell it the heauie ſtorie right,

Vpon my Soule, the hearers will ſhed Teares:
Yea, euen my Foes will ſhed faſt-falling Teares,
And ſay, Alas, it was a pittious deed.

There, take the Crowne, and with the Crowne, my Curſe,
And in thy need, such comfort come to thee,
As now I reape at thy too cruell hand.

Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the World,
My Soule to Heauen, my Blood vpon your Heads.

Northumb. Had he been flaughte-man to all my Kinne,
I should not for my Life but weepe with him,
To fee how inly Sorrow gripes his Soule.

Queen. What, weeping ripe, my Lord Northumberland?
Thnk e but vpon the wrong he did vs all,
And that will quickly drie thy melting Teares.

Clifford. Heere's for my Oath, heere's for my Fathers
Death.

Queene. And heere's to right our gentle-hearted
King.

Yorke. Open thy Gate of Mercy, gracious God,
My Soule flyes through theſe wounds, to feeke out thee.

Queene. Off with his Head, and fet it on Yorke Gates,
So Torke may ouer-looke the Towne of Yorke.

Flourish.

Exit.

A March. Enter Edward, Richard,
and their power.

Edward. I wonder how our Princely Father ſcap't:
Or whether he be ſcap't away, or no,
From Cliffsorſs and Northumberlandes purſuit ?
Had he been ta'ne, we ſhould haue heard the newes;
Had he beene ſaine, we ſhould haue heard the newes:
Or had he ſcap't, me thinkes we ſhould haue heard
The happy tidings of his good ſcape.

How fares my Brother? why is he ſo ſad?

Richard. I cannot joy, untill I be refolu'd
Where our right valiant Father is become.
I faw him in the Battaile range about,
And watcht him how he ſingled Clifford forth,
Me thought he bore him in the thickeſt troupe,
As doth a Lyon in a Heard of Neat,

Or as a Beare encompaſs'd round with Dogges:

Who hauing pincht a few, and made them cry,
The reſt ſtand all aloofe, and barke at him.

So far'd our Father with my Enemies,

So ſled my Enemies my Warlike Father:

Me thinkes 'tis prize enough to be his Sonne.

See how the Morning opes her golden Gates,

And takes her farwell of the glorious Sunne.

How well ſembles it the prime of Youth,
Trimm'd like a Yonker, prauncing to his Loue?

Ed. Dazle mine eyes, or doe I fee three Sunnes?

Rich. Three glorious Sunnes, each one a perfect Sunne,
Not ſeperated with the racking Clouds,
But ſeuer'd in a pale cleare-shining Skye.

See, ſee, they ioyne, embrace, and ſeeme to kiffe,
As if they vow'd ſome League inuiolable.

Now are they but one Lampe, one Light, one Sunne:
In this, the Heauen figures ſome euent.

Edward. 'Tis wondrous ſtrange,

The like yet neuer heard of.

I thinke it cites vs (Brother) to the field,

That wee, the Sonnes of braue Plantagenets,

Each one alreadye blazing by our meedes,

Should notwithstanding ioyne our Lights together,

And ouer-shine the Earth, as this the World,

What ere it bodes, hence-forward will I beare

Vpon my Targuet three faire ſhining Sunnes.

Richard. Nay, beare three Daughters:

By your leaue, I ſpeake it,

You loue the Breeder better then the Male.

Enter one blowing.

But what art thou, whoſe heauie Lookes fore-tell
Some dreadfull ſtory hanging on thy Tongue?

Meff. Ah, one that was a woſull looker on,
When as the Noble Duke of Yorke was ſaine,
Your Princely Father, and my louing Lord.

Edward. Oh ſpeake no more, for I haue heard too much.

Richard. Say how he dy'd, for I will heare it all.

Meff. Enuironed he was with many foes,
And flood againſt them, as the hope of Troy
Againſt the Greekeſt, that would haue entred Troy,
But Hercules himselfe muſt yeeld to odds:
And many ſtoakes, though with a little Axe,
Hewes downe and fells the hardeſt-tymbër'd Oake.
By many hands your Father was ſubdu'd,
But only ſlaught'red by the irefull Arme
Of vn-relenting Clifford, and the Queene:

Who crown'd the gracious Duke in high despight,
Laugh'd in his face: and when with griefe he wept,
The ruthleſſe Queene gaue him, to dry his Cheekes,
A Napkin, ſteeped in the harmeleſſe blood
Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford ſaine:
And after many ſcornes, many foule taunts,
They tooke his Head, and on the Gates of Yorke
They fet the fame, and there it doth remaine,
The faddet ſpectacle that ere I view'd.

Edward. Sweet Duke of Yorke, our Prop to leane vpon,
Now thou art gone, wee haue no Staffe, no Stay.
Oh Clifford, boyſt'rous Clifford, thou haſt ſaine
The flowre of Europe, for his Cheualrie,
And trecherouſly haſt thou vanquifht him,
For hand to hand he would haue vanquifht thee.

Now my Soules Pallace is become a Prifon:

Ah, would the breake from hence, that this my body
Might

The third Part of King Henry the Sixt.

153

Might in the ground be cloſed vp in reſt:

For neuer henceforth ſhall I ioy againe:

Neuer, oh neuer ſhall I fee more ioy.

Rich. I cannot weep: for all my bodies moysture
Searle ſerues to quench my Furnace-burning hart:
Nor can my tongue vnloade my hearts great burthen,
For ſelfe-fame winde that I should ſpeake withall,
Is kindling coales that fires all my breſt,
And burns me vp with flames, that tears would quench,
To weepe, is to make leſſe the depth of greeſe:
Teares then for Babes; Blowes, and Reuenge for mice,
Richard, I beare thy name, Ile venge thy death,
Or dye renowned by attempting it.

Ed. His name that valiant Duke hath left with thee:
His Dukedome, and his Chaire with me is left.

Rich. Nay, if thou be that princely Eagles Bird,
Shew thy deſcent by gazing' gainſt the Sunne:
For Chaire and Dukedome, Throne and Kingdome ſay,
Either that is thine, or else thou wert not his.

March. Enter Warwick, Marquſe Montacute,
and their Army.

Warwick: How now faire Lords ? What faire? What newes abroad?

Rich. Great Lord of Warwick, if we should tecompt
Our balefull newes, and at each words deliuerance
Stab Poniards in our ſleſt, till all were told,
The words would adde more anguifh then the wounds.
O valiant Lord, the Duke of Yorke is flaine.

Edo. O Warwick, Warwick, that Plantagenees
Which held thee deerely, as his Soules Redemption,
Is by the ſterne Lord Clifford done to death.

War. Ten dayes ago, I droun'd ſeſt newes in teares,
And now to adde more meaſure to your wocs,
I come to tell you things ſith then befalne,
After the bloody Fray at Wakefield ſoughit,
Where your braue Father breach'd his lateſt gaspe,
Tydings, as (wifely as the Poſſes could runne,
Were brought me of your Loffe, and his Depart.
I then in London, keeper of the King,
Muff'd my ſoldiers, gathered flocks of Friends,
Marcht toward S. Albons, to intercept the Queene,
Bearing the King in my behalſe along :

For by my ſcouts, I was aduertified

That he was comming with a full intent

To dafh my late Decree in Parliament,

Touching King Henriſes Oath, and your Succeſſon :

Short Tale to make, we at S. Albons met,

Our Battalies ioynd, and both ſides ſerely ſought :

But whether 'twas the coldheſe of the King,

Who lookt'd full gently on his warlike Queene,

That robb'd my ſoldiers of their heated ſpleene.

Or whether 'twas report of her ſucceſſe,

Or more then common ſcare of Cliffsorſs Rigour,

Who thunders to his Captiues, Blood and Death,

I cannot judge : but to conclude with truth,

Their Weapons like to Lightring, came and went :

Our ſoldiers like the Night. Owles lazie flight,

Or like a lazie Threſher with a Flaire,

fell gently downe, as if they trucke their Friends,

Cheer'd them vp with inſtice of our Caufes,

With promife of high pay, and great Rewards :

But all in vaine, they had no heart to fight,

And we (in them) no hope to win the day,

So that we fled : the King vnto the Queene,

Lord George, your Brother, Norſtolke, and my ſelſe,

In haſte, poſt haſte, are come to ioyne with you:
For in the Marches here we heard you were,
Making another Head, to fight againe.

Ed. Where is the Duke of Norſtolke, gentle Warwick?
And when came George from Burgundy to England?

War. Some fix miles off the Duke is with the ſoldiers,
And for your Brother he was lately ſent
From your kinde Aunt Dutchefle of Burgundie,
With ayde of ſouldiers to this needfull Warre.

Rich. 'Twas oddes belike, when valiant Warwick ſled;
Ouſhaue I heard his praifes in Purſuite,
But ne're till now, his Scandall of Retire.

War. Nor now my Scandall Richard, doſt thou heare:
For thou ſhalt know this ſtrong right hand of mine,
Can plucke the Diadem from faint Henriſes head,
And wring the awefull Scepter from his diſt,
Were he as famous, and as bold in Warre,
As he is fam'd for Mildneſſ, Peace, and Prayer.

Rich. I know it well Lord Warwick, blaſme me not,
'Tis loue I beare thy glories make me ſpeake:

But in this troublous time, what's to be done ?

Shall we go throw away our Coates of Steele,

And wrap our bodies in Blacke mourning Gownes,

Numb'ring our Aue-Maries with our Beads ?

Or shall we on the Helmets of our Foes?

Tell our Dedotion with reuengefull Armes ?

If for the laſt, ſay I, and to it Lords,

War. Why therefore Warwick came to ſeek you out,
And therefore comes my Brother Montague :

Attend me Lords, the proud inſulting Queene,

With Clifford, and the haught Northumberland,

And of their Feather, many moe proud Birde,

Hae wrought the eaſie-melting King, like Wax.

He ſwore ſentment to your Succeſſion,

His Oath enrolled in the Parliament.

And now to London all the crew are gone,

To ſruſtrate both his Oath, and what beſide

May make againſt the loue of Lancaſter.

Their power (I thinke) is thirty thousand ſtrong :

Now, if the helpe of Norſtolke, and my ſelſe,

With all the Friends that thou braue Earle of March,

Among't the louing Welſhmen can't procure,

Will but amount to ſiue and twenty thousand,

Why Via, to London will we march,

And once againe, beſide our foaming Steeds,

And once againe cry Charge vpon our Foes,

But neuer once againe turne backe and flye.

Rich. I, now me thinks I heare great Warwick ſpeak:
Ne're may he ſue to fee a Sunne-daye now.

That cries Retire, if Warwicke bid him itay.

Ed. Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I leane,

And when thou failſt (as God forbid the hour)

Muſt Edward fall, which perill heauen ſoreſend.

War. No longer Earle of March, but Duke of Yorke:
The next degree, is Englands Royall THRONE:

For King of England ſhalt thou be proclaim'd

In every Burrough as we paffe along,

And he that throwes not vp his cap for ioy,

Shall for the Fault make forfeit of his head.

King Edward, valiant Richard Montague :

Stay we no longer, dreaming of Renovne,

But found the Trumpets, and about our Taske.

Rich. Then Clifford, were thy heart as hard as Steele,
As thou haſt Thewne he ſtintie by thy deeds,

I come to pierce it, or to giue thee mine.

Ed. Then strike vp Drums, God and S. George for vs!

War.

154

Enter a Messenger.

War. How now? what newes ?

Mef. The Duke of Norfolke fends you word by me,
The Queene is comming with a puiffant Hoaft,
And craues your company, for speedy counſell.

War. Why then it forts, braue Warriors, let's away.

Exenue Omnes.

Flourish.
Enter the King, the Queene, Clifford, Northun-
and Yong Prince, with Drumme and
Trumpettes.

Qu. Welcome my Lord, to this braue town of Yorke,
Yonders the head of that Arch-enemy.
That fought to be incompaft with your Crowne.
Doth not the obieſt cheere your heart, my Lord.

K. I, as the rockes cheare them that feare their wrack,
To fee this fight, it irkes my very foule :
With-hold reuenge (deere God) 'tis not my faule,
Nor wittingly haue I infring'd my Vow.

Clif. My gracious Liege, this too much lenity
And harmfull pitty muſt be layd aſide:

To whom do Lyons caſt their gentle Lookes ?
Not to the Beaſt, that would vſurpe their Den.

Whose hand is that the Forreſt Beare doth lice ?
Not his that ſpoyles her yong before her face.

Who ſcapes the lurking Serpents mortall ſting ?
Not he that fets his foot vpon her backe.

The Smallest Worne will turne, being troden on,
And Doues will pecke in ſafeguard of their Brood.

Ambitious Yorke, did leuell at thy Crowne,
Thou ſmiling, while he knit his angry browes.
He but a Duke, would haue his Sonne a King,
And raife his ilſue like a louing Sire.

Thou being a King, bleſt with a goodly ſonne,
Did'ſt yeeld conſent to diſinherit him :

Which argued thee a moſt vnloving Father.

Vnreaſonable Creatures feed their young,
And though mans face be ſcarefull to their eyes,
Yet in protection of their tender ones,

Who hath not ſene them euen with thoſe wings,
Which ſometime they haue vs'd with ſearfull flight,
Make warre with him that climb'd vnto their neſt,
Offering their owne liues in their yongs defence?

For ſhame, my Liege, make them your Preſident :
Were it not pitty that this goodly Boy

Should looke his Birth-right by his Fathers fault,
And long hereafter ſay vnto his childe,

What my great Grandfather, and Grandſire got,
My careleſſe Father fondly gaue away.

Ah, what a ſhame were this? Looke on the Boy,
And let his manly face, which promiſeth

Succeſſull Fortune ſeele thy melting heart,
To hold thine owne, and leaue thine owne with him.

King. Full well hath Clifford plaid the Orator,
Inferring arguments of mighty force:

But Clifford tell me, did it thou neuer heare,
That things ill got, had euer bad ſucceſſe.

And happy alwayes was it for that Sonne,

Whof Father for his hoording went to hel:
Ile leaue my Sonne my Vertuous deeds behinde,

And would my Father had left me no more:
For all the reſt is held at ſuch a Rate,
As brings a thousand fold more care to keepe,

Ah Colin Yorke, would thy beſt Friends did know,

How it doth greeue me that thy head is heere.

Qu. My Lord cheere vp your ſpirits, our foes are nye,
And this ſoft courage makes our Follower's faint :
You promiſt Knighthood to our forward ſonne,
Vnſheath your ſword, and dub him prefently.

Edward, kneele downe.

King. Edward Plantagenſt, arife a Knight,
And leare this Lefſon; Draw thy Sword in right.

Prin. My gracious Father, by your Kingly leaue,
Ile draw it as Apparant to the Crowne,
And in that quarrell, vſe it to the death.

Clif. Why that is ſpoken like a toward Prince.

Enter a Messenger.

Mef. Royall Commanders, be in readineſſe,
For with a Band of thirty thousand men,

Comes Warwicke backing of the Duke of Yorke,
And in the Townes as they do march along,
Proclaimes him King, and many flye to him,
Darraigne your battell, for they are at hand.

Clif. I would your Higheſſe would depart the field,
The Queene hath beſt ſucceſſe when you are absent.

Qu. I good my Lord, and leaue vs to our Fortune.

King. Why, that's my fortune too, therefore Ile fly.

North. Be it with reſolution then to fight.

Prin. My Royall Father, cheere theſe Noble Lords,
And hearten theſe that fight in your defence;
Vnſheath your Sword, good Father: Cry S. George.

March. Enter Edward, Warwicke, Richard, Clarence,
Norfolke, Mountague, and Soldiers.

Edw. Now periut'd Henry, wilt thou kneel for grace
And fet thy Diadem vpon my head?

Or bide the mortall Fortune of the field.

Qu. Go rate thy Minions, proud inſulting Boy,
Becomes it thee to be thus bold in termes,
Before thy Soueraigne, and thy lawfull King?

Ed. I am his King, and he should bow his knee:
I was adopted Heire by his conſent.

Cla. Since when, his Oath is broke: for as I heare,
You that are King, though he do weare the Crowne,
Haue cauſ'd him by new Act of Parliament,
To blot out me, and put his owne Sonne in.

Clif. And reaſon too,
Who should ſucceede the Father, but the Sonne,
Rich. Are you there Butcher? O, I cannot ſpeak.
Clif. I Crooke-back, here I land to anſwer thee,
Or any he, the proudeſt of thy ſort.

Rich. 'Twas you that kill'd yong Rutland, was it not
Clif. I, and old Yorke, and yet not ſatisfied.
Rich. For Gods ſake Lords give ſignall to the fight.
War. What ſayt up Henry?

Wilt thou yeeld the Crowne?

(you ſpeak)

Qu. Why how now long-tongu'd Warwicke, dare
When you and I, met at S. Albons laſt,

Your legges did better ſeruice then your hands.
War. Then 'twas my turne to fly, and now 'tis thine:
Clif. You ſaid so much before, and yet you ſled.
War. 'Twas not your valor Clifford droue me thence.
Nor. No, nor your manhood that durſt make you fly.
Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee reuerently,

Breake off the parley, for ſcarſe I can refraine
The execution of my bigſwolne heart
Vpon that Clifford, that cruell Child-killer.

Clif. I flew thy Father, cal it thou him a Child?

Rich.

155

Rich. I like a Dastard, and a treacherous Coward,
As thou didst it kill our tender Brother Rutland,
But ere Sunset, Ile make thee curse the deed.

King. Haue done with words (my Lords) and heare
me speake.

Qu. Defie them then, or els hold close thy lips.

King. I prythee give no limits to my Tongue,
I am a King, and priuileged to speake.

Cliff. My Liege, the wound that bred this meeting here,
Cannot be cur'd by Words, therefore be still.

Rich. Then Executioner vnheath thy wword:
By him that made vs all, I am refold'd,

That Cliffsor: Manhood, lyes vpon his tongue.

Ed. Say Henry, shall I haue my right, or no:
A thoufand men haue broke their Fafts to day,
That ne're shall dine, vnlesse thou yeeld the Crowne.

War. If thou deny, their Blood vpon thy head,
For Yorke in justice put's his Armour on.

Pr. Ed. If that be right, which Warwick faies is right,
There is no v wrong, but every thing is right.

War. Who euer got thee, there thy Mother stands,
For well I v yot, thou haft thy Mothers tongue.

Qu. But thou art neyther like thy Sire nor Damme,
But like a foule mifhapen Stygmaticke,
Mark'd by the Destinies to be avoided,
Asvenome Toades, or Lizards dreadfull fings.

Rich. Iron of Naples, hid with English girt,
Whose Father beares the Title of a King,
(As if a Channell should be call'd the Sea)
Sham'ft thou not, knowing whence thou art extraught,
To let thy tongue detect thy bafe-borne heart.

Ed. A wisp of fraw were worth a thoufand Crowns,
To make this shameleſſe Callet know her ſelfe:

Heden of Greece was fayrer raiſe then thou,
Although thy Husband may be Menelans ;
And ne're was Agamemnon Brother wrong'd

By that falſe Woman, as this King by thee,

His Father reueld in the heart of France,
And tam'd the King, and made the Dolphin floope :

And had he match'd according to his State,
He might haue kept that glory to this day.

But when he tooke a begger to his bed,
And graec'd thy poore Sire with his Bridall day,
Euen then that Sun-shine brew'd a flowre for him,
That waſt his Fathers fortunes forth of France,

And heap'd ſedition on his Crowne at home :
For what hath broach'd this tumult but thy Pride?

Had it thou bene meeke, our Title still had flept,

And we in pitty of the Gentle King,

Had flipt ourCLAime, vntil another Age.

Cla. But when we ſaw, our Sunſhine made thy Spring,
And that thy Summer bred vs no increafe,

We fet the Axe to thy vſurping Roote :

And though the edge hath forthing hit our ſelues,
Yet know thou, ſince we haue begun to ſtrike,

Wee'l neuer leaue, till we haue hewne thee downe,
Or bath'd thy growing, with our heated bloods.

Edw. And in this reſolution, I defie thee,

Not willing any longer Conference,

Since thou denied't the gentle King to speake.

Sound Trumpets, let our bloody Colours wae,
And either Victorie, or else a Graue.

Qu. Stay Edward.

Ed. No wrangling Woman, wee'l no longer flay,
These words will coſt ten thoufand liues this day.

Exeunt omnes.

Alarum. Excursions. Enter Warwick.

War. Fore-spent with Toile, as Runners with a Race,
I lay me downe a little while to breath :

For frokes receiu'd, and many blowes repaid,

Haue robb'd my strong knit finewes of their ſtrength,

And ſpight of ſpight, needs muſt I reſt a-while.

Enter Edwarde running.

Ed. Smile gentle heauen, or ſtrike vngentle death,
For this world frownes, and Edwards Sunne is clowded.

War. How now my Lord, what happe? what hope of
good?

Enter Clarence.

Cla. Our hap is loffe, our hope but ſad disſpaire,
Our rankes are broke, and ruine followes vs.

What counſaile giue you? whether ſhall we flye?

Ed. Bootleſſe is flight, they follow vs with Wings,
And weake we are; and cannot ſhun purſuite.

Enter Richard.

Rich. Ah Warwicke, why haſtly withdrawn thy ſelfe?
Thy Brothers blood the thirsty earth hath drunk,

Broach'd with the Steely point of Cliffsorſs Launce :

And in the very pangs of death, he crye,

Like to a diſmall Clangor heard from farre,

Warwicke, reuenge: Brother, reuenge my death.

So underneath the belly of their Steeds,

That ſtain'd their Fetlockes in his ſmoaking blood,

The Noble Gentleman gaue vp the ghoſt.

War. Then let the earth be drunken with our blood:
Ile kill my Horſe, because I will not flye :

Why ſtand we like soft-hearted women heere,

Wayling our loffes, whiles the Foe doth Rage,

And looke vpon, as if the Tragedie

Were plaid in left, by counterfetting Actors.

Heere on my knee, I vow to God aboue,

Ile neuer pawſe againe, neuer ſtand ſtill,

Till either death hath clos'd theſe eyes of mine,

Or Fortune giuen me meaſure of Reuenge.

Ed. Oh Warwicke, I do bend my knee with thine,
And in this vow do chaine my ſoule to thine :

And ere my knee rife from the Earths cold face,

I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee,

Thou fetter vp, and plucker downe of Kings:

Befeeching thee (if with thy will it ſtands)

That to my Foes this body muſt be prey,

Yet that thy brazen gates of heauen may ope,

And giue ſweet paffage to my ſinfull ſoule.

Now Lords, take leaue vntill we meete againe,

Where ere it be, in heauen, or in earth.

Rich. Brother,

Gie me thy hand, and gentle Warwicke,

Let me imbrace thee in my weary armes :

I that did neuer weepe, now melt with wo,

That Winter ſhould cut off our Spring-time ſo.

War. Away, away:

Once more ſweet Lords farwell.

Cla. Yet let vs altogether to our Troopes,

And giue them leaue to flye, that will not ſtay;

And call them Pillars that will ſtand to vs :

And if we thriue, promife them ſuch rewards

As Vicторs weare at the Olympian Games.

This may plant courage in their quailing breaſts,

For yet is hope of Life and Victory :

Fore-

Foreflow no longer, make we hence amaine.

Excuse

Excursions. Enter Richard and Clifford.
Rich. Now Clifford, I have fingled thee alone,
Suppofe this arme is for the Duke of Yorke,
And this for Rutland, both bound to reuenge,
Wer't thou inuiron'd with a Brazen wall,

Clif, Now Richard, I am with thee heere alone,
This is the hand that flabb'd thy Father Yorke,
And this the hand, that flew thy Brother Rutland,
And here's the heart, that triumphs in their death,
And cheeres these hands, that flew thy Sire and Brother,
To execute the like vpon thy selfe,
And fo haue at thee.

They Fight Warwickes comes, Clifford flies.
Rich. Nay Warwicke, fingle out some other Chace,
For I my selfe will hunt this Wolfe to death.
Excuse.

Alarum. Enter King Henry alone.

Hen. This battell fares like to the mornings Warre,
When dying clouds contend, with growing light,
What time the Shepheard blowing of his nailes,
Can neither call it perfect day, nor night.

Now fwayes it this way, like a Mighty Sea,
Fore'd by the Tide, to combat with the Winde:
Now fwayes it that way, like the selfe-fame Sea,
For'd to retyre by furie of the Winde.

Sometime, the Flood preuailes; and than the Winde:
Now, one the better : then, another beft ;
Both tugging to be Viftors, breft to breft:
Yet neither Conqueror, nor Conquered.
So is the equall poife of this fell Warre.

Heere on this Mole-hill will I fit me downe,
To whom God will, there be the Victorie:
For Margaret my Queene, and Clifford too
Haue chid me from the Battell: Swearing both,
They proper beft of all when I am thence.

Would I were dead, if Gods good will were fo;
For what is in this world, but Greefe and Woe.
Oh God! me thinkes it were a happy life,
To be no better then a homely Swaine,
To fit vpon a hill, as I do now,

To carve out Dialls quently, point by point,
Thereby to fee the Minutes how they runne :

How many makes the Houre full compleate,
How many Houres brings about the Day,
How many Dayes will finifh vp the Yeare,
How many Yeares, a Mortall man may liue.

When this is knowne, then to diuide the Times:

So many Houres, muft I tend my Flocke ;

So many Houres, muft I take my Reft :

So many Houres, muft I Contemplate :

So many Houres, muft I Sport my selfe:

So many Dayes, my Ewes haue bene with yong:

So many weekes, ere the poore Fooles will Eane:

So many yeares, ere I shall theere the Fleece :

So Minutes, Houres, Dayes, Monthes, and Yeares,

Paft ouer to the end they were created,

Would bring white haires, vnto a Quiet graue.

Ah! what a life were this? How sweet? how louely?

Gues not the Hawthorne bush a fweeter shade

To Shepheards, looking on their filly Sheepe,
Then doth a rich Imbroider'd Canopie

To Kings, that feare their Subiects treacherie ?

Oh yes, it doth; a thoufand fold it doth.

And to conclude, the Shepherds homely Curds,

His cold thinne drinke out of his Leather Bottle,
His wonted sleepe, vnder a fresh trees fhade,
All which fecure, and fweely he enioyes,
Is farre beyond a Princes Delicates:

His Viands sparkling in a Golden Cup,
His bodie couched in a curious bed,

When Care, Miftruft, and Treafon waits on him.

Alarum. Enter a Sonne that hath kill'd his Father, or
one door: and a Father that hath kill'd his Sonne as an-
ther door.

Son. Ill blowes the winde that profits no body,
This man whom hand to hand I flew in fight,
May be poſſed with some ſtore of Crownes,
And I that (haply) take them from him now,
May yet (ere night) yeeld both my Life and them
To ſome man else, as this dead man doth me.

Who's this? Oh God! It is my Father's face,
Whom in this Conflict, I (vnwares) haue kill'd :

Oh heauy times! begreting ſuch Euent.

From London, by the King was I preſt forth,
My Father being the Earle of Warwickes man,
Came on the part of Yorke, preſt by his Maſter :

And I, who at his hands recei'd my life,

Haue by my hands, of Life bereaued him.

Pardon me God, I knew not what I did :

And pardon Father, for I knew not thee.

My Teares ſhall wipe away theſe bloody marks:

And no more words, till they haue flow'd their fill.

King. O pitteous ſpectacle! O bloody Times!
Whiles Lyons Warre, and battlea for their Dennes,
Poore harmleſſe Lambes abide their enmity.

Weepe wretched man : Ile ayde thee Teare for Teare,
And let our hearts and eyes, like Ciuill Warre,
Be blinde with teares, and break ore-charg'd with griue

Enter Father, hearing of his Sonne.

Fa. Thou that lo ſoutly hath refiſted me,
Giu'e me thy Gold, if thou haſt any Gold :
For I haue bought it with an hundred blowers.

But let me fee: Is this our Foe-mans face?
Ah, no, no, no, it is mine onely Sonne.

Ah Boy, if any life be left in thee,

Throw vp thine eye : fee, fee, what ſhowres arife,
Blowne with the windie Tempeſt of my heart,
Vpon thy wounds, that killes mine Eye, and Heart,

O pitty God, this miferable Age!

What Stragems? how fell? how Butcherly?

Erreoneous, mutinous, and vnnaturall,

This deadly quarrell daily doth beget?

O Boy! thy Father gaue thee life too ſoon,
And hath bereft thee of thy life too late.

King. Wo aboue wo: greeſe, more the common greſt:
O that my death would ſtay theſe ruthfull deeds :
O pitty, pitty, gentle hauen pitty :
The Red Rose and the White are on his face,
The fatall Colours of our striuing Houſes :
The one, his purple Blood right well reſembles,
The other his pale Cheekes (me thinkes) preſenteth :
Wither one Rose, and let the other flourith :
If you contend, a thouſand liues muſt wither.

Son. How will my Mother, for a Fathers death
Take on with me, and ne're be satisfi'd?

Fa. How will my Wife, for ſlaughter of my Sonne,
Shed feas of Teares, and ne're be satisfi'd?

King. How will the Country, for theſe woful chances,
Mif-thinkt

157

Mif-thinke the King, and not be satisfied ?

Son. Was euer tonne, so rew'd a Fathers death ?

Fatb. Was euer Father so bemoan'd his Sonne ?

Hen. Was euer King so green'd for Subjeets woe ?

Much is your forrow; Mine, ten times so much.

Son. Ile beare thee hence, where I may weepe my fill.
Fath. Thefe armes of mine shall be thy winding fleet:

My heart (sweet Boy) shall be thy Sepulcher,
For from my heart, thine Image ne're shall go.

My fighting breft, shall be thy Tunerall bell ;
And to obflequious will thy Father be,

Men for the loffe of thee, hauing no more,
As Priam was for all his Valiant Sonnes,

Ile beare thee hence, and let them fight that will,
For I haue murthered where I should not kill.

Exit

Hen. Sad-hearted-men, much ouergone with Care;
Heere fits a King, more wofull then you are.

Alarums. Excursions. Enter the Queen, the Prince, and Exeter.

Prin. Fly Father, flye : for all your Friends are fled.
And Warwicke rages like a chared Bull :

And, for death doth hold vs in pursuife.

Qu. Mount you my Lord, towards Barwicke poft a-
maine :

Edward and Richard like a brace of Grey-hounds,
Hauing the fearfull flying Hare in fight,
With fiery eyes, (sparkling for very wrath,
And bloody fleete graft in their yrefull hands)

Are at our backes, and therefore hence amaine.

Exst. Away : for vengeance comes along with them.
Nay, fly not to expofulate, make fpeed,
Oreſſe come after, Ile away before.

Hen. Nay take me with thee, good sweet Exeter :
Not that I feare to fly, but loue to go

Whether the Queene intends. Forward, away. Exeunt

Alowd alarum. Enter Clifford Wounded.

Cliff. Heere burnes my Candle out; I, heere it dies,
Which whiles it lafted, gaue King Henry light.

O Lancaſter! I feare thy ouerthrow,

More then my Bodies parting with my Soule:
My Loue and Feare, gew'd many Friends to thee,
And now I fall. Thy tough Commixtures melts,
Impairing Henry, (strength'ning mil-proud Yorke ;

And whether flye the Gnats, but to the Sunne ?
And who hines now, but Henriſen Enemies ?

O Phœbus! had ſt thou neuer giuen conſent,
That Phœton ſhould checke thy fiery Steeds,

Thy burning Carre neuer had ſcorch'd the earth.
And Henry, had ſt thou ſway'd as Kings ſhould do,

Or as thy Father, and his Father did,
Giuing no ground vnto the house of Yorke,

They neuer then had ſprung like Sommer Flyes : I,
and ten thousand in this luckleſſe Realme,

Hed left no mourning Widdowes for our death,
And thou this day, had ſt kept thy Chaire in peace.
For what doth cherriſh Weeds, but gentle ayre?

And what makes Robbers bold, but too much lenity ?
Boileſſe are Plaints, and Cureleſſe are my Wounds :

No way to flye, nor ſtrength to hold out flight :
The Foe is merciſſe, and will not pitty :

For at their hands I haue deferu'd no pitty.
The ayre hath got into my deadly Wounds,

And much effute of blood, doth make me faint :
Come Yorke, and Richard, Warwicke, and the rest,
I ſtab'd your Fathers boſomes; Split my breſt.

Alarums & Retreat. Enter Edward, Warwicke, Richard, and Soldiers, Montague, & Clarence.

Ed. Now breath we Lords, good fortune bids vs paſſe,
And smooth the frownes of War, with peacefull lookes :
Some Troopes purſue the bloody-minded Queene,

That led calme Henry, though he were a King,
As doth a Saile, fill'd with a fretting Guſt

Command an Argofie to ſtemme the Waues.

But thinke you (Lortſ) that Clifford fled with them?

War. No, 'tis impoſſible he should eſcape :

(For though before his face I ſpeake the words)

Your Brother Richard markt him for the Graue.

And whereof he is, hee's ſpurely dead.

Clifford grones

Rich. Whofe ſoule is that which takes hit heavy leaue?
A deadly groane, like life and deaths departing.

See who it is.

Ed. And now the Battailes ended,
If Friend or Foe, let him be gently ſved.

Rich. Reuoke that doome of mercy, for 'tis Clifford,
Who not contented that he lopp'd the Branch
In hewing Rutland, when his leaues put forth,

But fet his murth'ring knife vnto the Roote,
From whence that tender ſpray did fweetly ſpring,
I meane our Princely Father, Duke of Yorke.

War. From off the gates of Yorke, fetch down ſy head,
Your Fathers head, which Clifford placed there :

In fread whereof, let this ſupply the roome,
Measure for meaſure, muſt be anſwered.

Ed. Bring forth that fatall Schreechowle to our house,
That nothing ſung but death, to vs and ours :

Now death shall ſtop his diſmall threatening ſound,
And his ill-boading tongue, no more shall ſpeake.

War. I thinke is vnderſtanding is bereſt :

Speake Clifford, doſt thou know who ſpeakes to thee?

Darke cloudy death ore-shades his beames of life,

And he nor fees, nor heares vs, what we ſay.

Rich. O would he did, and ſo (perhaps) he doth,
'Tis but his policy to counterſet,

Becauſe he would auoid ſuch bitter taunts

Which in the time of death he gaue our Father.

Cla. If so thou think'st,

Vex him with eager Words.

Rich. Clifford, aske mercy, and obtaine no grace.

Ed. Clifford, repent in boileſſe penitence.

War. Clifford, deuife excufes for thy faults.

Cla. While we deuife fell Tortures for thy faults.

Rich. Thou didd'st loue Yorke, and I am ſon to Yorke.

Edw. Thou pittied ſt Rutland, I will pitty thee.

Cla. Where's Captaine Margaret, to fence you now?

War. They mocke thee Clifford,

Sweare as thou was't wont.

Ric. What, not an Oath? Nay then the world go's hard
When Clifford cannot ſpare his Friends an oath :

I know by that he's dead, and by my Soule,
If this right hand would buy two houres life,

That I (in all deſpight) might rayle at him,
This hand ſhould chop it off: & with the iſuing Blood
Stifle the Villaine, whose vnſtanch'd ſtrift
Yorke, and yong Rutland could not ſatſie.

War. I, but he's dead. Of with the Traitors head,
And reare it in the place your Fathers flands.

And now to London with Triumphant march,

There

There to be crowned Englands Royall King:
From whence, shall Warwicke cut the Sea to France,
And aske the Ladie Bons for thy Queene :

So fhalt thou now both thefe Lands together,
And hauing France thy Friend, thou fhalt not dread
The ſcattred Foe, that hopes to rife againe :

For though they cannot greatly fling to hurt,
Yet looke to haue them buz to offend thine cares :

First, will I fee the Coronation,

And then to Britanny Ile croſſe the Sea,
To effect this marriage, ſo it pleaſeth my Lord.

Ed. Euen as thou wilt sweet Warwicke, let it bee :
For in thy shoulder do I builde my Seate ;

And neuer will I undertake the thing

Wherein thy counſaile and confent is wanting :

Richard, I will create thee Duke of Glouceſter,
And George of Clarence; Warwicke as our Sefſe,
Shall do, and vnde as him pleafeth beſt.

Rich. Let me be Duke of Clarence, George of Glofter,
For Gloſters Dukedome is too ominous.

War. Tut, that's a foolish obſeruation :

Richard, be Duke of Gloſter : Now to London,
To fee theſe Honors in poſſession.

Exeunt

Enter Sinklo, and Humſrey, with Croſſe-bowes
in their hands.

(our ſelues:

Sink. Vnder this thicke growne brake, wee'l ſhrownd
For through this Laund anon the Deere will come,
And in this couert will we make our Stand,
Culling the principall of all the Deere.

Hum. Ile ſtay aboue the hill, ſo both may shoot.

Sink. That cannot be, the noife of thy Croſſe-bow
Will ſcarre the Heard, and ſo my ſhoot is loſt :

Heere stand we both, and ayme we at the beſt :
And for the time ſhall not ſeeme tedious,

Ile tell thee what befell me on a day,

In this ſelfe-place, where now we meane to ſtand.

Sink. Heere comes a man, let's ſtay till he be paſt:

Enter the King with a Prayer booke.

Hen. From Scotland am I ſolne euen of pure loue,
To greet mine owne Land with my wifſhfull fight :
No Harry, Harry, 'tis no Land of thine,

Thy plaſe is ſiſt'd, thy Scepter wrung from thee,

Thy Balme waſt off, wherewith thou was Annointed :

No bending knee will call thee Caſar now,

No humble ſuters preſeate to ſpeake for right :

No, not a man comes for redreſſe of thee :

For how can I helpe them, and not my ſelfe?

Sink. I, heere's a Deere, whoſe ſkin's a Keepers Fee :

This is the quondam King ; Let's ſeize upon him.

Hen. Let me embrace the ſower Adueriaries,
For Wifemen ſay, it is the wifeft course.

Hum. Why linger we? Let vs lay hands vpon him.

Sink. Forbeare a while, wee'l heare a little more.

Hen. My Queene and Son are gone to France for aid:
And (as I heare) the great Commanding Warwicke

I: thither gone, to craue the French Kings Sifter

To wife for Edward. If this newes be true,

Poore Queene, and Sonne, your labour is but loſt :

For Warwicke is a ſubtle Orator :

And Lewis a Prince foone wonne with mouing words :

By this account then, Margaret may winne him,

For ſhe's a woman to be pittied much :

Her ſighs will make a batt'ry in his breſt,

Her teares will pierce into a Marble heart :

The Tyger will be milde, whiles the doth moutne ;
And Nero will be tainted with remorſe,

To heare and fee her plaints, her Brinſh Teares,

I, but ſhee's come to begge, Warwicke to giue :

Shee on his left ſide, crauing ayde for Henrie ;

He on his right, asking a wife for Edward.

Shee Weepes, and fayes, her Henry is depos'd :

He Smiles, and fayces, his Edward is inſtaul'd;

That ſhe (poore Wreſt) for greeſe can ſpeake no more.

Whiles Warwicke tels his Title, Smoothes the Wrong,

Inferreth arguments of mighty ſtrength,

And in conclusion winnes the King from her,

With promife of his Sifter, and what eſſe,

To strengthen and ſupport King Edwards place,

O Margaret, this'twill be, and thou (poore foule)

Art then forfaken, as thou went'ſt forlome.

Hum. Say, what art thou talk'ſt of Kings & Queens?

King. More then I ſeeme, and leſſe then I was bom to:
A man at leaſt, for leſſe I should not be :

And men may talke of Kings, and why not I?

Hum. I, but thou talk'ſt, as if thou wert a King,

King. Why ſo I am (in Minde) and that's enough,

Hum. But if thou be a King, where is thy Crowne?

King. My Crowne is in my heart, not on my head :

Not deck'd with Diamonds, and Indian ſtones :

Nor to be ſeene : my Crowne, is call'd Content,

A Crowne it is, that ſildome Kings enioy.

Hum. Well, if you be a King crown'd with Content,
Your Crowne Content, and you, muſt be contented
To go along with vs. For (as we thinke)

You are the king King Edward hath depos'd :

And we his ſubieſts, weſorne in all Allegiance,

Will apprehend you, as his Enemie.

King. But did you neuer ſwears, and breake an Oath,

Hum. No, neuer ſuch an Oath, nor will not now.

King. Where did you dwell when I was K, of England?

Hum. Heere in this Country, where we now remaine.

King. I was annointed King at nine months old,

My Father, and my Grandfather were Kings :

And you were ſworne true ſubieſts vnto me :

And tell me then, haue you not broke your Oathes?

Sin, No, for we were ſubieſts, but while you were kinsman.

King. Why? Am I dead? Do I not breathe a Man?

Ah ſimple men, you know not what you ſwears :

Looke, as I blow this Feather from my Face,

And as the Ayre blowes it to me againe,

Obeying with my winde when I do blow,

And yeelding to another, when it blowes,

Commanded alwayes by the greater guſt :

Such is the lightneſſe of you, common men.

But do not breake your Oathes, for of that ſime,

My milde intreatie ſhall not make you guiltie.

Go where you will, the king ſhall be commanded,

And be you kings, command, and Ile obey.

Sinklo. We are true ſubieſts to the king,

King Edward.

King. So would you be againe to Herrie,
If he were feated as king Edward is.

Sinklo. We charge you in God's name & the King's
To go with vs vnto the Officers.

King. In God's name lead your Kings name be obeſt,
And what God will, that let your King performe,

And what he will, I humbly yeeld vnto.

Exeunt

Enter K. Edward, Gloſter, Clarence, Lady Graſ.

King. Brother of Gloſter, at S. Albons field

This

159

This Ladyes Husband, Sir Richard Grey, was claine,
His Land then feiz'd on by the Conqueror,
Her fuit is now, to repoffe lefte those Lands,
Which wee in luffice cannot well deny,
Because in Quarrell of the House of Torke,
The worthy Gentleman did lofe his Life.

Rich. Your Highneſſe shall doe well to graunt her ſuit:
It were diſhonor to deny it her.

King. It were no leſſe, but yet Ile make a pawle.

Rich. Yea, is it to:
I fee the Lady hath a thing to graunt,
Before the King will graunt her humble ſuit.

Clarence. Hee knowes the Game, how true hee keepes
the winde ?

Rich. Silence.

King. Widow, we will confider of your ſuit,
And come ſome other time to know our minde.

Wid. Right gracious Lord, I cannot brooke delay:
May it please you Highneſſe to refolu'e me now,
And what your pleafure is, shall fatisſe me.

Rich. I Widow? then Ile warrant you all your Lands,
And if what pleafes him, shall pleafure you :
Fight cloſer, or good faith you le' catch a Blow.

Clarence. I feare her not, vnleſſe the chance to fall.

Rich. God forbid that, for hee'le take vantages.

King. How many Children haſt thou, Widow ? tell
me.

Clarence. I thinke he means to begge a Child of her.

Rich. Nay then whip me: hee'le rather giue her two.

Wid. Three, my moſt gracious Lord.

Rich. You shall haue foure, if you'le be rul'd by him.

King. 'Twere pittie they should loſe their Fathers
Lands.

Wid. Be pittifull, dread Lord, and graunt it then.

King. Lords giue vs leaue, Ile trye this Widowes
wit.

Rich. I, good leaue haue you, for you will haue leaue,
Till Youth take leaue, and leaue you to the Crutch.

King. Now tell me, Madam, doe you loue your
Children ?

Wid. I, full as dearely as I loue my ſelfe.

King. And would you not doe much to doe them
good ?

Wid. To doe them good, I would ſuſtayne some
harme,

King. Then get your Husbands Lands, to doe them
good.

Wid. Therefore I came vnto your Maiſſe.

King. Ile tell you how these Lands are to be got.

Wid. So shall you bind me to your Highneſſe ſeruice,

King. What ſeruice wilt thou doe me, if I give them?

Wid. What you command, that reſts in me to doe.

King. But you will take exceptions to my Boone.

Wid. No, gracious Lord, except I cannot doe it.

King. I, but thou canſt doe what I meane to aske.

Wid. Why then I will doe what your Grace com-
mands.

Rich. Hee pleyes her hard, and much Raine weares the
Marble.

Clar. As red as fire ? nay then, her Wax muſt melt.

Wid. Why stopples my Lord ? shall I not heare my
Taske ?

King. An eſtie Taske, 'tis but to loue a King.

Wid. That's boone perform'd, because I am a Subieſt.

King. Why then, thy Husbands Lands I freely giue
thee.

Wid. I take my leaue with many thousand thanks.

Rich. The Match is made, ſhee ſeales it with a Curſie.

King. But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of loue I meane.

Wid. The fruits of Loue, I meane, my louing Liege.

King. I, but I feare me in another ſence.

What Loue, think'ft thou, I ſue ſo much to get?

Wid. My loue till death, my humble thanks, my prayers,

That loue which Vertue begges, and Vertue graunts.

King. No, by my troth, I did not meane ſuch loue.

Wid. Why then you meane not, as I thought you did.

King. But now you partly may perceiue my minde.

Wid. My minde will neuer graunt what I perceiue

Your Highneſſe aymes at, if I ayme aright.

King. To tell thee plaine, I ayme to lye with thee.

Wid. To tell you plaine, I had rather lye in Prifon.

King. Why then thou ſhalt not haue thy Husbands
Lands.

Wid. Why then mine Honestie ſhall be my Dower,
For by that lioſe, I will not purchase them.

King. Therein thou wrong'ſt thy Children mightily.

Wid. Herein your Highneſſe wrongs both them & me:
But mightie Lord, this merry inclination

Accords not with the ſadneſſe of my ſuit.

Pleafe you dismiffe me, eyther with I, or no.

King. I, if thou wilt ſay I to my requeſt:

No, if thou do'ſt ſay No to my demand.

Wid. Then No, my Lord: my ſuit is at an end.

Rich. The Widow likes him not, ſhee knits her
Browes.

Clarence. Hee is the blunſt Wooer in Chriften-
dome.

King. Her Looks doth argue her replete with Modeſtly,
Her Words doth ſhow her Wit incomparable,

All her perfections challenge Soueraigntie,

One way, or other, ſhee is for a King,

And ſhee shall be my Loue, or else my Queene.

Say, that King Edward take thee for his Queene ?

Wid. 'Tis better ſaid then done, my gracious Lord:
I am a ſubieſt to ieaſt withall,
But farre vnſit to be a Soueraigne.

King. Sweet Widow, by my State I ſweare to thee,
I ſpeake no more then what my Soule intends,
And that is, to enjoy thee for my Loue.

Wid. And that is more then I will yeeld vnto:
I know, I am too meane to be your Queene,
And yet too good to be your Concubine.

King. You cauill, Widow, I did meane my Queene.

Wid. 'I will grieue your Grace, my Sonnes should call
you Father.

King. No more, then when my Daughters
Call thee Mother.

Thou art a Widow, and thou haſt ſome Children,

And by Gods Mother, I being but a Batchelor,

Hae other ſome. Why, 'tis a happy thing,

To be the Father vnto many Sonnes:

Anſwer no more, for thou haſt be my Queene.

Rich. The Ghoſtly Father now hath done his Shift.

Clarence. When hee was made a Shriever, 'twas for Shift.

King. Brothers, you muſe what Chat wee two haue
had.

Rich. The Widow likes it not, for ſhee lookses very
ſad.

King. You'd thinke it ſtrange, if I should maſſe
her.

Clarence. To who, my Lord ?

King. Why Clarence, to my ſelfe.

Rich. That

Rich. That would be tenne dayes wonder at the leaft,
Clarence. That's a day longer then a Wonder lafts.
Rich. By so much is the Wonder in extremes.
King. Well, ieast on Brothers: I can tell you both,
Her fuit is graunted for her Husbands Lands.

Enter a Noble man.

Nob. My gracious Lord, Henry your Foe is taken,
And brought your Prisoner to your Palace Gate.
King. See that he be conuey'd vnto the Tower:
And goe wee Brothers to the man that tooke him,
To quefection of his apprehension.
Widow goe you along: Lords vfe her honourable,
Exeunt.

Manet Richard.

Rich. I, Edward, will vfe Women honourably:
Would he were wafted, Marrow, Bones, and all,
That from his Loynes no hopefull Branch may spring,
To croffe me from the Golden time I looke for:
And yet, betweene my Soules defire, and me,
The luftfull Edwards Title buryed,
Is Clarence, Henry, and his Sonne young Edward,
And all the vnlook'd-for Iflue of their Bodies,
To take their Roomes, ere I can place my selfe:
A cold premeditation for my purpofe.
Why then I doe but dreame on Soueraigntie,
Like one that rands vpon a Promontorie,
And Ipyes a farre-off shore, where hee would tread,
Wifhing his foot were equall with his eye,
And chides the Sea, that funders him from thence,
Saying, hee le lade it dry, to haue his way:
So doe I wifh the Crowne, being so farre off,
And fo I chide the meanes that keepes me from it,
And so (I say) Ile cut the Caufes off,
Flattering me with impoffibilities:
My Eyes too quicke, my Heart o're-weenes too much,
Vnleffe my Hand and Strength could equall them.
Well, say there is no Kingdome then for Richard:
What other Pleasure can the World affoord?
Ile make my Heauen in a Ladies Lappe,
And decke my Body in gay Ornaments,
And 'witch' sweet Ladies with my Words and Lookes.
Oh miferable Thought! and more vnlikely,
Then to accomplifh twentie Golden Crownes.
Why Loue forswore me in my Mothers Wombe:
And for I should not deale in her soft Lawes,
Shee did corrupt frayle Nature with ſome Bribe,
To shrinke mine Arme vp like a wither'd Shrub,
To make an enuious Mountaine on my Back,
Where fits Deformitie to mocke my Body;
To shape my Legges of an vnequall fize,
To dif-proportion me in every part:
Like to a Chaos, or an vn-lick'd Beare-whelpe,
That carryes no impreffion like the Damme.
And am I then a man to be belou'd?
Oh monſtrous fault, to harbour ſuch a thought.
Then ſince this Earth affoords no Ioy to me,
But to command, to check, to o're-beare ſuch,
As are of better Perſon then my ſelfe:
Ile make my Heauen, to dreame vpon the Crowne,
And whiles I liue, t'account this World but Hell,
Vntill my mis-fhap'd Trunke, that beares this Head,
Be round impaled with a glorious Crowne.
And yet I know not how to get the Crowne,
For many Liues ſtand betweene me and home:

And I like one loft in a Thornie Wood,
That rents the Thornes, and is rent with the Thornes,
Seeking a way, and straying from the way,
Not knowing how to finde the open Ayre,
But toyling desperately to finde it out,
Torment my ſelfe, to catch the English Crowne:
And from that torment I will free my ſelfe,
Or hew my way out with a bloody Axe.
Why I can ſmile, and murther whiles I ſmile,
And cry, Content, to that which grieues my Heart,
And wet my Cheekes with artificially Teares,
And frame my Face to all occasions,
Ile drowne more Saylers then the Mermaid shall,
Ile flay more gazers then the Basiliske,
Ile play the Orator as well as Neſſor,
Decene more flythenly then Vliffers could,
And like a Symon, take another Troy.
I can adde Colours to the Camelion,
Change ſhapes with Proteus, for aduantages,
And fet the murtherfull Machewill to Schoole.
Can I doe this, and cannot get a Crowne?
Tut, were it farther off, Ile plucke it downe.
Exit.

Flourish.

Enter Lewis the French King, his Sister Bona, his
Admirall, call'd Bourbon: Prince Edward,
Queene Margaret, and the Earle of Oxford.
Lewis fis, and rifeſh vp againe.

Lewis. Faire Queene of England, worthy Margar,
Sit downe with vs: it ill beſits thy State,
And Birth, that thou should'ſt stand, while Lewis doth ſit,
Marg. No, mightie King of France: now Margar
Muſt strike her ſayle, and learne a while to ſerue,
Where Kings command. I was (I muſt confefſe)
Great Albions Queene, in former Golden dayes:
But now miſchance hach trod my Title downe,
And with diſ-honor layd me on the ground,
Where I muſt take like Seat vnto my fortune,
And to my humble Seat conforme my ſelfe.

Lewis. Why ſay, faire Queene, whence ſprings this
deepe deſpaire?

Marg. From ſuch a caufe, as ſills mine eyes with teares,
And ſtops my tongue, while heart is droun'd in care.

Lewis. What ere it be, be thou ſtill like thy ſelfe,
And fit thee by our ſide. Seats her by him,
Yeeld not thy necke to Fortunes yoake,
But let thy dauntlesſe minde ſtill ride in triumph,
Ouer all miſchance.
Be plaine, Queene Margaret, and tell thy griefe,
It shall be eas'd, if France can yeeld relieſe.

Marg. Thoſe gracious words
Reuiue my drooping thoughts,
And giue my tongue-ty'd ſorrowes leave to ſpeake.
Now therefore be it knowne to Noble Lewis,
That Henry, ſole poſſeſſor of my Loue,
Is, of a King, become a banifht man,
And forct'd to liue in Scotland a Forlorne;
While prowd ambitious Edward, Duke of Yorke,
Vſurpes the Regall Title, and the Seat
Of Englands true anoynted lawfull King.
This is the caufe that I, poore Margaret,
With this my Sonne, Prince Edward, Henries Heire,
Am come to craue thy iuſt and lawfull ayde:
And if thou faile vs, all our hope is done,
Scotland hath will to helpe, but cannot helpe:

161

Our People, and our Peeres, are both mis-led,
Our Treasure feiz'd, our Souldiurs put to flight,
And (as thou feest) our felues in heauie plight.

Lewis. Renowned Queene,

With patience calme the Storme,

While we bethinke a meane to breake it off.

Marg. The more wee stay, the stronger growes our
Foe.

Lewis. The more I stay, the more Ile succour thee.

Marg. O, but impatience waiteth on true forrows.

And see where comes the breeder of my forrow.

Enter Warwicke.

Lewis. What's hee approacheth boldly to our pre-
fence?

Marg. Our Earle of Warwicke, Edwards greatest
Friend.

Lewis. Welcome braue Warwickes, what brings thee
to France? Hee defcends. Shee arefeth.

Marg. I now begins a fecond Storme to rife,
For this is hee that moues both Winde and Tyde.

Warw. From worthy Edward, King of Albion,
My Lord and Soueraigne, and thy vowed Friend,
I come (in Kindneſſe, and vnfayned Loue)
Firſt, to doe greetings to thy Royall Perſon,
And then to crauſe a League of Amitie:

And laſtly, to confirme that Amitie.

With Nuptiall Knot, if thou vouchſafe to graunt
That vertuous Lady Bona, thy faire Sifter,
To Englands King, in lawfull Marriage.

Marg. If that goe forward, Henries hope is done.

Warw. And gracious Madame,

Speaking to Bona.

In our Kings behalfe,

I am commanded, with your leaue and fauor,
Humbly to kiffe your Hand, and with my Tongue
To tell the paffion of my Soueraigne's Heart;
Where Fame, late entring at his heedfull Eares,
Hath plac'd thy Beauties Image, and thy Vertue.

Marg. King Warwick, and Lady Bona, heare me ſpeake,
Before you anſwer Warwicke. His demand
Springs not from Edwards well-meant honeſt Loue,
But from Deceit, bred by Necefſitie:

For how can Tyrants safely gourner home,
Vnſeſſe abroad they purchase great allyance?

To proue him Tyrant, this reaſon may ſuffice,

That Henry liueſt ſtill: but were hee dead,
Yet here Prince Edward stands, King Henries Sonne.

Looke therefore Lewis, that by this League and Mariage
Thou draw not on thy Danger, and Dis-honour:

For though Vnſurpers ſway the rule a while,

Yet Heau'n's are iuſt, and Time ſuppreſſeth Wrongs.

Warw. Iniurious Margaret.

Edw. And why not Queene?

Warw. Because thy Father Henry did vſurpe,

And thou no more art Prince, then ſhee is Queene.

Oſ. Then Warwicke diſanulls great John of Gaunt,
Which did ſubdue the greatest part of Spaine;
And after John of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth,
Whose Wifdome was a Mirror to the wifet:
And after that wife Prince, Henry the Fift,
Who by his Proweſſe conquered all France:
From ſeſe, our Henry lineally defcends.

Warw. Oxford, how haps it in this smooth diſcouerſe,

You told not, how Henry the Sixt hath loft

All that, which Henry the Fift had gotten :

Me thinkes theſe Peeres of France ſhould smile at that.
But for the reſt: you tell a Pedigree.

Of threeſcore and two yceers, a tilly time

To make preſcription for a Kingdomes worth,

Oſ. Why Warwicke, canſt thou ſpeak againſt thy Liege,
Whom thou obeyſt, thirtie and fix yceers,
And not bewray thy Treafon with a Bluſh?

Warw. Can Oxford, that did euer ſence the right,
Now buckler Falschood with a Pedigree?

For ſhame leaue Henry, and call Edward King.

Oſ. Call him my King, by whose iniurious doome
My elder Brother, the Lord Aubrey Vere.

Was done to death ? and more then ſo, my Father,

Euen in the downe-fall of his mellow'd yceers,

When Nature brought him to the doore of Death?

No Warwicke, no: while Life vpholds this Arme,

This Arme vpholds the Houſe of Lancaſter.

Warw. And I the Houſe of Torke.

Warw. Queene Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford,
Vouchſafe at our requeſt, to stand aſide,
While I vſe further conference with Warwicke.

They ſtand aloſſe.

Marg. Heauens graunt, that Warwickes wordes be-
witch him not.

Lew. Now Warwicke, tell me euen vpon thy conſcience
Is Edward your true King ? for I were loth

To linke with him, that were not lawſull choſen.

Warw. Thereon I pawne my Credit, and mine Ho-
nor.

Lewis. But is hee gracious in the Peoples eye?

Warw. The more, that Henry was vnfortunate.

Warw. Then further : all diſſembling ſet aſide,
Tell me for truth, the meaſure of his Loue
Unto our Sifter Bona.

War. Such it ſeemes,

As may beſeeme a Monarch like himſelfe.

My ſelſe haue often heard him ſay, and ſwearſe,

That this his Loue was an externall Plant,

Whereof the Root was fixt in Vertues ground,

The Leaes and Fruit maintain'd with Beauties Sunne,

Exempt from Enuy, but not from Difdaine,

Vnſeſſe the Lady Bona quit his paine.

Lewis. Now Sifter, let vs heare your firme reſolue.

Bona. Your graunt, or your denyall, ſhall be mine.

Yet I conſeſſe, that often ere this day,
Speaks to Warw.

When I haue heard your Kings deſert recounted,

Mine eare, hath tempted iudgement to deſire.

Lewis. Then Warwicke, thus :

Our Sifter ſhall be Edwards.

And now forthwith ſhall Articles be drawne,

Touching the Ioynture that your King muſt make,

Which with her Dowrie ſhall be counter-poys'd:

Draw neere, Queene Margaret, and be a witneſſe,

That Bona ſhall be Wife to the English King.

Pr. Edw. To Edward, but not to the English King.

Marg. Deceitfull Warwicke, it was thy deuice,
By this alliance to make void my ſuit :

Before thy comming, Lewis was Henries friend.

Lewis. And ſtill is friend to him, and Margaret.

But if your Title to the Crowne be weake,

As may appeare by Edwards good ſucceſſe:

Then 'tis but reaſon, that I be releas'd.

From giuing ayde, which late I promiſed.

Yet ſhall you haue all kindneſſe at my hand,

That your Estate requires, and mine can yeeld.

Warw. Henry now liues in Scotland, at his eafe;

Where

Where hauing nothing, nothing can he lobe.

And as for you your selfe (our quondam Queene)

You haue a Father able to maintaine you,

And better were, you troubled him, then France.

Mar. Peace impudent, and flamelefie Warwicke,
Proud fetter vp, and puller downe of Kings,
I will not hence, till with my Talke and Teares
(Both full of Truth) I make King Lewis behold
Thy flye conueyance, and thy Lords falfe loue,

Poft blowing a horne Within.

For both of you are Birds of selfe-fame Feather.

Lewes. Warwicke, this is some poffe to vs, or thee.

Enter the Poffe.

Poft. My Lord Ambassador,
These Letters are for you.

Speakes to Warwick,

Sent from your Brother Marqueſſe Montague.

These from our King, vnto your Maiety.

To Lewis.

And Madam, thefe for you:
From whom, I know not.

To Margaret

They all reade their Letters.

Oſſ. I like it well, that our faire Queene and Miftris
Smiles at her newes, while Warwicke frownes at his.

Prince Ed. Nay marke how Lewis stampes as he were
netled. I hope, all's for the beſt.

Lew. Warwicke, what are thy Newes?

And yours, faire Queene.

Mar. Mine ſuch, as fill my heart with vnhop'd ioyes.

War. Mine full of ſorrow, and hearts diſcontent.

Lew. What? has your King married the Lady Grey?

And now to ſooth your Forgerie, and his,

Sends me a Paper to perſwade me Patience ?

Is this th'Alliance that he ſeekes with France?

Dare he preſume to ſcorne vs in this manner?

Mar. I told your Maiety as much before :

This proueth Edwards Loue, and Warwickes honeſtly.

War. King Lewis, I heere proteſt in fight of heauen,
And by the hope I haue of heauenly bliffe,
That I am cleere from this misdeed of Edwards;

No more my King, for he diſhonors me,
But moſt himſelfe, if he could fee his ſhame.

Did I forget, that by the Houſe of Yorke

My Father came vntimely to his death?

Did I let paffe th'abufe done to my Neece ?

Did I impale him with the Regall Crowne?

Did I put Henry from his Native Right ?

And am I guerdon'd at the laſt, with Shame?

Shame on himſelfe, for my Deſert is Honor.

And to repaire my Honor loft for him,

I heere renounce him, and returne to Henry.

My Noble Queene, let former grudges paffe,

And henceforth, I am thy true Seruitour :

I will reuenge his wrong to Lady Bona,

And replant Henry in his former ſtate.

Mar. Warwicke,

These words haue turn'd my Hate, to Loue,

And I forgiue, and quite forget old faults,

And ioy that thou becom'ſt King Henries Friend.

War. So much his Friend, I, his vnſained Friend,
That if King Lewis vouchſafe to furnish vs

With some few Bands of choſen Soldiours,

Ile vndertake to Land them on our Goaſt,

And force the Tyrant from his ſeat by Warre.

Tis not his new-made Bride ſhall ſuccour him,

And as for Clarence, as my Letters tell me,

Hee's very likely now to fall from him,

For matching more for wanton Luft, then Honor,

Or then for ſtrength and ſafety of our Country.

Bona. Deere Brother, how ſhall Bona be reueng'd,
But by thy helpe to this diſtressed Queene?

Mar. Renowned Prince, how ſhall Poore Henry line,
Vnſeſſe thou reſcue him from foule diſpaire?

Bona. My quarrel, and this English Queens, are one.

War. And mine faire Lady Bona, ioynes with you.

Lew. And mine, with her, and thine, and Margarets,

Therefore, at laſt, I firmly am reſolu'd

You ſhall haue ayde.

Mar. Let me giue humble thanks for all, at once.

Lew. Then Englands Meſſenger, returne in Poffe,
And tell falſe Edward, thy ſuppoſed King,

That Lewis of France, is ſending ouer Maskers

To reuell it with him, and his new Bride.

Thou ſeest what's paſt, go ſeare thy King withall,

Bona. Tell him, in hope he'll protea a widower ſonſor,
I weare the Willow Garland for his ſake.

Mar. Tell him, my mourning weeds are layde aſſide,
And I am ready to put Armor on.

War. Tell him from me, that he hath done me wrong,
And therefore Ile vn-Crowne him, er't be long.

There's thy reward, be gone.

Exiſt Poff.

Lew. But Warwicke,

Thou and Oxford, with ſiue thouand men

Shall croſſe the Seas, and bid falſe Edward battaille,

And as occafion ſerues, this Noble Queene

And Prince, ſhall follow with a freſh Supply.

Yet ere thou go, but anſwer me one doubt:

What Pledge haue we of thy firme Loyalty?

War. This ſhall aſſure my conſtant Loyalty,
That if our Queene, and this young Prince agree,
Ile ioyne mine eldeſt daughter, and my Joy,
To him forthwith, in holy Wedlocke bands.

Mar. Yes, I agree, and thanke you for your Motions,

Sonne Edward, ſhe is Faire and Vertuous,

Therefore delay not, giue thy hand to Warwicke,

And with thy hand, thy faith irrevocable,
That onely Warwickes daughter ſhall be thine.

Prin. Ed. Yes, I accept her, for ſhe well deferues it,
And heere to pledge my Vow, I giue my hand,

He giues his hand to War.

Lew. Why ſtay we now? Theſe ſoldiers ſhalbe leuied,
And thou Lord Bourbon, our High Admirall
Shall waſt them ouer with our Royall Fleete.
I long till Edward fall by Warres miſchance,
For mocking Marriage with a Dame of France.

Exenut. Manet Warwicke.

War. I came from Edward as Ambassador,
But I returne his ſworne and mortall Foe:
Matter of Marriage was the charge he gaue me,
But dreadfull Warre ſhall anſwer his demand.
Had he none eſle to make a ſtale but me?
Then none but I, ſhall turne his Ieſt to Sorrow,
I was the Cheeſe that rais'd him to the Crowne,
And Ile be Cheeſe to bring him downe againe :

Not that I pitty Henries miſery,

But ſeeke Reuenge on Edwards mockery.

Exiſt.

Enter Richard, Clarence, Somerſet, and
Mountague.

Rich. Now tell me Brother Clarence, what thinke you
Of this new Marriage with the Lady Gray?
Hath not our Brother made a worthy choice?

Cla. Alas, you know, tis farre from hence to France,
How

163

How could he fly till Warwick made returne ?

Sons. My Lords, forbeare this talke: heere comes the King.

Flourish.

Enter King Edward, Lady Grey, Penbrooke, Stafford, Haffings: foure stand on one side, and foure on the other.

Rich. And his well-chosen Bride.

Clarence. I minde to tell him plainly what I thinke.

King. Now Brother of Clarence,

How like you our Choyce,

That you stand penfiue, as halfe malecontent ?

Clarence. As well as Lewis of France,

Or the Earle of Warwicke,

Which are so weake of courage, and in judgement,
That they le take no offence at our abuse.

King. Suppofe they take offence without a caufe :
They are but Lewis and Warwicke, I am Edward,

Your King and Warwickes, and muft haue my will.

Rich. And shall haue your will, becaufe our King :
Yet haſſie Marriage ſeldome proueth well.

King. Yea, Brother Richard, are you offended too ?

Rich. Not I : no :

God forbid, that I should wifh them feuer'd,

Whom God hath ioyn'd together :

I, and 'twere pittie, to ſunder them,

That yoake ſo well together.

King. Setting your skornes, and your miſlike aſide,
Tell me ſome reaſon, why the Lady Grey
Should not become my Wife, and Englands Queene?

And you too, Somerſes, and Mountague,

Speake freely what you thinke.

Clarence. Then this is mine opinion :

That King Lewis becomes your Enemie,

Forocking him about the Marriage

Of the Lady Bona.

Rich. And Warwicke, doing what you gaue in charge,
Is now dis-honored by this new Marriage.

King. What, if both Lewis and Warwick be appeaſ'd,
By ſuch inuention as I can deuife?

Mount. Yet, to haue ioyn'd with France in ſuch alliance,
Would more haue ſtrength'ned this our Commonwealth
'Gainſt forraine ſtormes, then any home-bred Marriage.

Haſſ. Why, knowes not Mountague, that of it ſelfe,
England is ſafe, if true within it ſelfe ?

Mount. But the ſafer, when 'tis back'd with France.

Haſſ. 'Tis better vſing France, then truſting France :
Let vs be back'd with God, and with the Seas,

Which he hath giu'n for fence impregnable,

And with their helpes, onely defend our ſelues :

In them, and in our ſelues, our ſaſetie lyes.

Clar. For this one ſpeech, Lord Haffings well deferues
To haue the Heire of the Lord Hungerford.

King. I, what of that ? it was my will, and graunt,
And for this once, my Will ſhall ſtand for Law.

Rich. And yet me thinks, your Grace hath not done well,
To giue the Heire and Daughter of Lord Scales
Vnto the Brother of your louing Bride ;

Shee better would haue fitted me, or Clarence :

But in your ſtate you burie Brotherhood.

Clar. Or ſelſe you would not haue beſtow'd the Heire
Of the Lord Boniill on your new Wives Sonne,

And leaue our Brothers to goe ſpeede elsewhere.
King. Alas, poore Clarence : is it for a Wife
That thou art malecontent ? I will prouide thee.

Clarence. In chufing for your ſelfe,
You ſhew'd your iudgement :

Which being ſhallow, you ſhall giue me leaue

To play the Broker in mine owne behalſe ;

And to that end, I ſhortly minde to leane you.

King. Leaue me, or tarry, Edward will be King,
And not be ty'd vnto his Brothers will.

Lady Grey. My Lords, before it pleas'd my Maieſtie
To rayſe my State to Title of a Queene,

Doe me but right, and you muſt all confefſe,

That I was not ignoble of Deſcent,

And meaner then my ſelfe haue had like fortune.

But as this Title honors me and mine,

So your diſlikes, to whom I would be pleafing,

Doth cloud my ioyes with danger, and with forrow.

King. My Loue, forbeare to fawne vpon their frownes:

What danger, or what forrow can befall thee,

So long as Edward is thy conſtant friend,

And their true Soueraigne, whom they muſt obey ?

Nay, whom they ſhall obey, and loue thee too,

Vnleſſe they ſeeke for hatred at my hands :

Which if they doe, yet will I keepe thee ſafe,

And they ſhall ſeele the vengeance of my wrath.

Rich. I heare, yet ſay not much, but thinke the more.

Enter a Poffe.

King. Now Maſſenger, what Letters, or what Newes
from France ?

Poff. My Soueraigne Liege, no Letters, & few words,
But ſuch, as I (without your ſpeciall pardon)

Dare not relate.

King. Goe too, wee pardon thee :

Therefore, in briefe, tell me their words,

As neere as thou canſt gueſſe them.

What anſwer makes King Lewis vnto our Letters ?

Poff. At my depart, theſe were his very words :

Goe tell false Edward, the ſuppofed King,

That Lewis of France is ſending ouer Maskers,

King. Is Lewis ſo braue ? belike he thinkes me Henry.

But what ſaid Lady Bona to my Marriage ?

Poff. Theſe were her words, vtt'ed with mild diſdaine :

Tell him, in hope hee'le proue a Widower ſhortly,

Ile weare the Willow Garland for his ſake.

King. I blame not her; ſhe could ſay little ſelfe :

She had the wrong. But what ſaid Henrیes Queene?

For I haue heard, that ſhe was there in place.

Poff. Tell him (quoth ſhe)

My mourning Weedes are done,

And I am readie to put Armour on.

King. Belike ſhe minds to play the Amazon.

But what ſaid Warwick to theſe inuities ?

Poff. He, more incens'd againſt your Maieſtie,

Then all the reſt, diſcharg'd me with theſe words :

And therefore Ile vncrowne him, er't be long.

King. Ha'duſt the Traytor breath out ſo proud words?

Well, I will arme me, being thus fore-warn'd:

They ſhall haue Warres, and pay for their preſumption.

But ſay, is Warwick friends with Margaret?

Poff. I, gracious Soueraigne,

They are ſo link'd in friendſhip,

That yong Prince Edward marryes Warwick's Daughter.

Clarence. Belike, the elder :

Clarence will haue the younger.

Now

164.

Now Brother King farewell, and fit you faft,
For I will hence to Warwickes other Daughter,
That though I want a King dome, yet in Marriage
I may not proue inferior to your felfe.
You that loue me, and Warwickes, follow me.

Exit Clarence, and Somerſet followes.

Rich. Not I:

My thoughts asyme at a further matter:
I lay not for the loue of Edward, buſ the Crowne.

King. Clarence and Somerſet both gone to Warwickes?

Yet am I arm'd againſt the worſt can happen :

And haſte is needfull in this deſp'rate caſe,

Pembrooke and Stafford, you in our behalſe

Goe leuie men, and make prepare for Warre ;
They are already, or quickly will be landed :

My ſelfe in perſon will straight follow you.

Exeunt Pembrooke and Stafford.

But ere I goe, Haſtings and Mountague

Reſolue my doubt: you twaine, of all the reſt,
Are neere to Warwickes, by bloud, and by allyance :

Tell me, if you loue Warwickes more then me ;

If it be ſo, then both depart to him :

I rather with you foes, then hollow friends.

But if you minde to hold your true obedience,
Giuſe me affurance with ſome friendly Vow,

That I may neuer haue you in ſuſpect.

Mount. So God helpe Mountague, as hee proues true.

Haſt. And Hastings, as hee fauours Edwards cauſe.

King. Now, Brother Richard, will you stand by vs ?

Rich. I, in deſpight of all that shall withstand you.

King. Why ſo : then am I ſure of Victorie.

Now therefore let vs hence, and loſe no howre,
Till wee meet Warwickes, with his forreine powre.

Exeunt.

Enter Warwickes and Oxford in England,
with French Souldiers.

Warw. Truſt me, my Lord, all hitherto goes well,
The common people by numbers ſwarme to vs.

Enter Clarence and Somerſet.

But fee where Somerſet and Clarence comes :

Speake ſuddenly, my Lords, are wee all friends?

Clar. Feare not that, my Lord.

Warw. Then gentle Clarence, welcome vnto Warwickes,
And welcome Somerſet : I hold it cowardize,
To reſt miſtruallfull, where a Noble Heart
Hath pawn'd an open Hand, in ſigne of Loue ;

Elſe might I thinke, that Clarence, Edwards Brother,

Were but a ſained friend to our proceedings :

But welcome ſweer Clarence, my Daughter ſhall be thine,

And now, what reſts ? but in Nights Couerture,

Thy Brother being careſſely encamp'd,
His Souldiers luking in the Towne about,

And but attended by a ſinple Guard,

Wee may ſurprize and take him at our pleaſure,

Our ſcouts haue found the aduenture very eſtate :

That as Vlſſes, and ſtout Diameſe,

With ſleight and manhood roſe to Rhesus Tents,

And brought from thence the Thracian fatall Steeds ;
So wee, well couer'd with the Nights black Mantle,

At vnawares may beat downe Edwards Guard,

And ſeize himſelfe: I ſay not, ſlaughter him,
For I intend but only to ſurprize 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 Warwickes and his friends, God and Saint George.

Exeunt.

Enter three Watchmen to guard the Kings Tent.

1. Watch. Come on my Maſters, each man take his stand.
The King by this, is ſet him downe to ſleep.
2. Watch. What, will he not to Bed?

1. Watch. Why, no: for he hath made a ſolemne Vow,
Neuer to lye and take his natural ſlack,
Till Warwickes, or himſelfe, be quite ſuppreſſt.

2. Watch. To morrow then belike ſhall be the day,
If Warwickes be ſo neere as men report,

3. Watch. But ſay, I pray, what Noble man ſaſt that,
That with the King here reſſeth in his Tent?

1. Watch. 'Tis the Lord Haſtings, the Kings chiefest friend.

3. Watch. O, is it ſo ? but why commands the Kings,
That his chieſe ſollowers lodge in Townes about him,
While he himſelfe keepeſ in the cold field?

2. Watch. 'Tis the more honour, becauſe more dangerous.

3. Watch. I, but giue me worſhip, and quietneſſe,
I like it better then a dangerous honor.
If Warwickes knew in what eſtate he stands,
'Tis to be doubted he would waken him.

1. Watch. Vnleſſe our Halberds did ſhut vp his palfage.

2. Watch. I: wherefore eſſe guard we his Royall Tent,
But to defend his Perſon from Night-foes?

Enter Warwickes, Clarence, Oxford, Somerſet,
and French Souldiers, ſilent all.

Warw. This is his Tent, and see where stand his Gents:
Courage my Maſters: Honor now, or neuer:
But follow me, and Edward ſhall be ours.

1. Watch. Who goes there?

2. Watch. Stay, or thou dyeft.

Warwicke and the reſt cry all, Warwickes, Warwickes,
and ſet upon the Guard, who flye, crying, Arme, Arme,
Warwicke and the reſt following them.

The Drumme playing, and Trumpet founding.

Enter Warwickes, Somerſet, and the reſt, bringing the King
out in his Gowne, sitting in a Chaire: Richard
and Haſtings flyes over the Stage.

Som. What are they that flye there?

Warw. Richard and Haſtings: let them goe, here is
the Duke.

K. Edw. The Duke?

Why Warwickes, when wee parted,
Thou call'dt me King.

Warw. I, but the caſe is alter'd.

When you diſgrac'd me in my Embaſſade,
Then I degraded you from being King,

And come now to create you Duke of Yorke.
Alas, how should you gouerne any Kingdome,

That know not how to vie Embaſſador,
Nor how to be contented with one Wife,

Nor how to vie your Brothers Brotherly,

Nor how to ſtudie for the Peoples Welfare,
Nor how to ſhrowd your ſelfe from Enemies?

K. Edw. Ye,

167

K. Edw. Yea, Brother of Clarence,
Art thou here too?
Nay then I see, that Edward needs must downe.
Yet Warwicke, in despight of all mischance,
Of thee thy selfe, and all thy Complices,
Edward will always beare himselt as King :
Though Fortunes malice ouerthrow my State,
My minde exceeds the compaffe of her Wheele.
Warw. Then for his minde, be Edward Englands King,

Takes off his Crowne.

But Henry now shall weare the English Crowne,
And be true King indeede: thou but the shadow.
My Lord of Somerset, at my request,
See that forthwith Duke Edward be conucy'd
Vnto my Brother Arch-Bishop of Yorke :
When I haue fought with Pembrooke, and his fellows,
Ile follow you, and tell what answer
Lewis and the Lady Bona send to him.
Now for a while farewell good Duke of Yorke.

They leade him out forcibly.
K.Ed. What Fates impose, that men must needs abide;
Ichoots not to relift both winde and tide.
Oxef. What now remaines my Lords for vs to do,
But march to London with our Soldiers?
War. I, that's the first thing that we haue to do,
To free King Henry from imprisonment,
And see him feated in the Regall Throne.
exit.

Enter Riuers, and Lady Gray.

Riu. Madam, what makes you in this sodain change?
Gray. Why Brother Riuers, are you yet to learne
What late misfortune is befalne King Edward?

Riu. What loſſe of ſome pitcht battell
Against Warwicke?

Gray. No, but the loſſe of his owne Royall perſon.

Riu. Then is my Soueraigne ſlaine ?
Gray. Ialmoft ſlaine, for he is taken prifoner,
Either betray'd byalfhood of his Guard,
Or by his Foe ſurpriz'd at vnawares.
And as I further haue to vnderstand,
isnew committed to the Bifhop of Yorke,
Fell Warwickes Brother, and by that our Foe.
Riu. Theſe Newes I muſt conſeſſe are full of greeſe,

Yet gracious Madam, beare it as you may,
Warwicke may loſſe, that now hath wonne the day.
Gray. Till then, faire hope muſt hinder liues decay:
And I the rather waine me from dispaire

For loue of Edwards Off-spring in my wombe:
This is it that makes me bridel paſſion,
And beare with Mildneſſe my misfortunes croſſe :
I, for this I draw in many a teare,
And flap the riling of blood-fucking lighes,
Leaſt with my lighes or teares, I blaſt or droune
King Edwards Fruite, true heyre to th' English Crowne.
Riu. But Madam,

Where is Warwick then become?

Gray. I am inform'd that he comes towards London,
To ſet the Crowne once more on Henries head,
Gueſſe thou the reſt, King Edwards Friends muſt downe.
But to preuent the Tyrants violence,
(For truſt not him that hath once broken Faith)
Ile hence forthwith vnto the Sanctuary,

To faue (at least) the heire of Edwards right:
There ſhall I reſt fecure from force and fraud:
Come therefore let vs flye, while we may flye,
If Warwicke take vs, we are ſure to dye.

exempl.

Enter Richard, Lord Haſtings, and Sir William Stanley.

Rich. Now my Lord Haſtings, and Sir Williams Stanley
Leaue off to wonder why I drew you hither,
Litto this cheeſeſt Thicket of the Parke.
Thus stand the caſe: you know our King, my Brother,
Is prifoner to the Bifhop here, at whose hands
He hath good ſtage, and great liberty,
And often but attended with weake guard,
Come hunting this way to diſport himſelfe.

Enter King Edward, and a Huntſman with him.

Huntſman. This way my Lord,

For this way lies the Game.

King Edw. Nay this way man,
See where the Huntſmen stand.

Now Brother of Gloſter, Lord Haſtings, and the reſt,
Stand you thus cloſe to ſteale the Bifhops Deere?

Rich. Brother, the time and caſe, requireth haſt,

Your horſe stands ready at the Parke-corner.

King Ed. But whether ſhall we then?

Haſt. To Lyn my Lord,

And ſhipt from thence to Flanders.

Rich. Wel gueſt belecue me, for that was my meaning

K. Ed. Stanley, I will requite thy forwardneſſe.

Rich. But wherefore ſtay we? tis no time to talke,

K. Ed. Huntſman, what ſay'ſt thou?

Wilt thou go along?

Huntſ. Better do so, then tarry and be hang'd.

Rich. Come then away, lets ha no more adoo.

K. Ed. Bifhop farwell,

Sheeld thee from Warwickes frowne,

And pray that I may re-poſſeſſe the Crowne,

Flourish.
Enter King Henry the sixt, Clarence, Warwicke,
Somerset, young Henry, Oxford, Mountague,
and Lieutenant.

K. Hen. M. Lieutenant, now that God and Friends
Haue ſhaken Edward from the Regall ſeate,
And turn'd my captiue ſtate to libertie,
My ſeare to hope, my forrowes vnto ioyes,
At our enlargement what are thy due Fees?

Lieut. Subjeets may challenge nothing of their Sou' rainſ
But, if an humble prayer may preuisle,
I then craue pardon of your Maiestie.

K. Hen. For what, Lieutenant? For well vſing me?
Nay, be thou ſure, Ile well requite thy kindneſſe.

For that it made my imprisonment, a pleaſure:

I, fuch a pleaſure, as incaged Birds
Conceiue; when after many moody Thoughts,
At laſt, by Notes of Houſhold harmonie,
They quite forget their loſſe of Libertie.

q

But

But Warwicke, after God, thou feet me free,
And chiefly therefore, I thanke God, and thee,
He was the Author, thou the Instrument.
Therefore that I may conquer Fortunes fight,
By liuing low, where Fortune cannot hurt me,
And that the people of this blessed Land
May not be punisht with my thwarting starres,
Warwicke, although my Head still weare the Crowne,
I here religie my Gouernment to thee,
For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds.

Warw. Your Grace hath still beene fam'd for vertuous,
And now may feeme as wife as vertuous,
By spying and avoiding Fortunes malice,
For few men rightly temper with the Starres:
Yet in this one thing let me blame your Grace,
For chusing me, when Clarence is in place.

Clare. No Warwicke, thou art worthy of the fway,
To whom the Heau'n's in thy Natiuitie,
Adiudg'd an Oliue Branch, and Lawrell Crowne,
As likely to be blesſt in Peace and Warre:
And therefore I yeeld thee my free confent.

Warw. And I chufe Clarence onely for Protector.

King. Warwick and Clarence, giue me both your Hands:
Now ioyne your Hands, & with your Hands your Hearts,
That no diffention hinder Gouernment:
I make you both Protec'tors of this Land,
While I my ſelfe will lead a priuate Life,
And in deuotion ſpend my latter dayes,
To finnes rebuke, and my Creators prayle.

Warw. What anſweres Clarence to his Soueraignes
will?

Clare. That he conſents, if Warwicke yeeld conſent.
For on thy fortune I repoſe my ſelfe.

Warw. Why then, though loth, yet muſt I be content a
Wee'le yoake together, like a double shadow
To Henries Body, and ſupply his place;
I meane, in bearing weight of Gouernment,
While he enioyes the Honor, and his cafe.
And Clarence, now then it is more then needfull,
Forthwith that Edward be pronounc'd a Traytor,
And all his Lands and Goods confiſcate.

Clare. What elfe? and that Succeſſion be determined.

Warw. I, therein Clarence ſhall not want his part.

King. But with the firſt, of all your chieſe affairs,
Let me entreat (for I command no more)
That Margaret your Queene, and my Sonne Edward,
Be ſent for, to returne from France with ſpeed:
For till I fee them here, by doubtfull ſcare,
My ioy of libertie is halſe eclips'd.

Clare. It ſhall bee done, my Soueraigne, with all
ſpeede.

King. My Lord of Somerset, what Youth is that,
Of whom you ſeeme to haue ſo tender care?

Somerset. My Liege, it is young Henry, Earle of Richmond.

King. Come hither, Englands Hope :

Layes his Hand on his Head.

If secret Powers ſuggeſt but truth
To my diuining thoughts,
This prettie Lad will proue our Countries bliffe.
His Lookes are full of peacefull Maieſtie,
His Head by nature fram'd to weare a Crowne,
His Hand to wield a Scepter, and himſelfe
Likely in time to bleſſe a Regall THRONE:
Make much of him, my Lords; for this is hee
Must helpe you more, then you are hurt by mee.

Enter an Enter a Poſſe.

Warw. What newes, my friend?

Poſſe. That Edward is eſcap'd from your Brother,
And fled (as hee heares ſince) to Burgundie.

Warw. Vnſauorie newes: but how made he eſcap'd

Poſſe. He was conuey'd by Richard, Duke of Gloſter,
And the Lord Haſtings, who attended him

In ſecret ambuſh, on the Forreſt ſide,

And from the Bishops Huntmen reſcu'd him:
For Hunting was his dayly Exerciſe.

Warw. My Brother was too careſſle of his charge,
But let vs hence, my Soueraigne, to prouide

A ſalue for any fore, that may betide.

Extenst.

Manet Somerset, Richmond, and Oxford.

Som. My Lord, I like not of this flight of Edwards
For doubtleſſe, Burgundie will yeeld him helpe,
And we ſhall haue more Warres befor't be long.

As Henries late prefaging Prophecie

Did glad my heart, with hope of this young Richmond:
So doth my heart miſ-giue me, in theſe Conflicts,
What may befall him, to his harme and ours,
Therefore, Lord Oxford, to preuent the woſt,
Forthwith wee'le ſend him hence to Brittanie,
Till ſormes be paſt of Ciuill Enmitie.

Oxſ. I: for if Edward re-poſſe the Crowne,
'Tis like that Richmond, with the reſt, ſhall downe.

Sons. It ſhall be ſo: he ſhall to Brittanie,
Come therefore, let's about it ſpeedily.

Extenst.

Florists. Enter Edward, Richard, Haſtings,
and Souldiers.

Edw. Now Brother Richard, Lord Haſtings, and the reſt,
Yet thus farre Fortune maketh vs amends,
And ſayes, that once more I ſhall enterechange
My wained Rate, for Henries Regall Crowne.
Well haue we pafs'd, and now re-pafs'd the Seas,
And brought defined helpe from Burgundie.
What then remaines, we being thus arriu'd
From Rauenſpurre Hauen, before the Gates of York,
But that we enter, as into our Dukedome?

Rich. The Gates made paſt ?
Brother, I like not this.

For many men that flumble at the Threshold,
Are well fore-told, that danger lurkes within.

Edw. Tuch man, aboactions muſt not now affright
By faire or foule meanes we muſt enter in,
For hither will our friends repaire to vs.

Haſt. My Liege, Ile knocke once more, to ſummon
them.

Enter on the Walls, the Maior of Torke,
and his Brethren.

Maior. My Lords,

We were fore-warned of your comming,
And ſhut the Gates, for ſafetie of our ſelues :
For now we owe allegeance vnto Henry.

Edw. But, After Maior, if Henry be your King,
Yet Edward, at the leaſt, is Duke of Yorke.

Maior. True, my good Lord, I know you for
leſſe.

Edw. Why, and I challenge nothing but my Dukedom,
As being well content with that alone.

Rich. But

167

Rich. But when the Fox hath once got in his Nofe,
Hee'le foone finde means to make the Body follow.

Hast. Why, Mafter Maior, why stand you in a doubt?
Open the Gates, we are but King Henries friends.

Maior. I, say you so ? the Gates shall then be opened.
He defends.

Rich. A wife flout Captaine, and foone perfwaded.
Hast. The good old man would faire that all were well,
So 'twere not long of him : but being entred,
I doubt not I, but we shall foone perfwade.
Both him, and all his Brothers, vnto reafon.

Enter the Maior, and two Aldermen.
Edw. So, Mafter Maior: thefe Gates muft not be flut,
But in the Night, or in the time of Warre.
What, feare not man, but yeeld me vp the Keyes,
Takes his Keyes.

For Edward will defend the Towne, and thee,
And all those friends, that deine to follow mee.

March. Enter Mountgomerie, with Drumme and Souldiers.

Rich. Brother, this is Sir John Mountgomerie,
Our trustie friend, vnleſſe I be deceiu'd.

Edw. Welcome Sir John : but why come you in
Armes ?

Mount. To helpe King Edward in his time of ſtorme,
As euery loyall Subieſt ought to doe.

Edw. Thankes good Mountgomerie :
But we now forget your Title to the Crowne,
And only clayme our Dukedome,
Till God pleafe to ſend the reſt.

Mount. Then fare you well, for I will hence againe,
I came to ſerue a King, and not a Duke :
Drummer ſtrike vp, and let vs march away.

The Drumme begins to march.
Edw. Nay, ſtay, Sir John, a while, and wee'le debate
By what faire means the Crowne may be recouer'd.
Mount. What talke you of debating ? in few words,
If you're not here proclaime your ſelfe our King,
Ile leaue you to your fortune, and be gone,
To keepe them back, that come to ſuccour you.

Why shall we fight, if you pretend no Title?

Rich. Why Brother, wherefore ſtand you on nice
points ?

Rich. When wee grow ſtronger,
Then wee'le make our Clayme :
Till then, 'tis wurdome to conceale our meaning.

Hast. Away with ſerupulous Wit, now Atmes muſt
rule.

Rich. And ſeareſſe minds clyme ſooneſt vnto Crowns.

Brother, we will proclaime you out of hand,
The bruit thereof will bring you many friends.

Edw. Then be it as you will: for 'tis my right,
And Henry but vſurpes the Diademe.

Mount. I, now my Soueraigne, ſpeaketh like himſelfe,
And now will I be Edwards Champion.

Hast. Sound Trumpet, Edward flail be here proclaim'd:
Come, fellow Souldier, make thou proclamation.

Flourish. Sound.

Soul. Edward the Fourth, by the Grace of God, King of
England and France, and Lord of Ireland, &c.
Mount. And whoſoe're gainſayes King Edwards right,
By this I challenge him to ſingle fight.

Flourish. Downe his Gauntlet.
All. Long liue Edward the Fourth.

Edw. Thankes braue Mountgomerie,
And thankes vnto you all:

If fortune ſerue me, Ile requite this kindneſſe,

Now for this Night, let's harbor here in Yorke:

And when the Morning Sunne shall rayſe his Carre
Aboue the Sorder of this Horizon,

Wee'le forward towards Warwicke, and his Mates;

For well I wot, that Henry is no Souldier.

Ah froward Clarence, how euill it beſeemés thee,
To flatter Henry, and forſake thy Brother?

Yet as wee may, wee'le meet both thee and I warwick.

Come on braue Souldiers : doubt not of the Day,
And that once gotten, doubt not of large Pay. Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter the King, Warwicke, Mountague,
Clarence, Oxford, and Somerset.

War. What counſaile, Lords? Edward from Belgium,
With haſtie Germanes, and blunt Hollanders,
Hath pafs'd in ſafetie through the Narrow Seas,
And with his troupes doth march amaine to London,
And many giddie people flock to him.

King. Let's leuie men, and beat him backe againe.

Clar. A little fire is quickly trodden out,
Which being ſuffer'd, Riuers cannot quench.

War. In Warwickſhire I haue true-hearted friends,
Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in Warre,

Thofe will I muſter vp : and thou Sonne Clarence
Shale ſirre vp in Suffolke, Norſolke, and in Kent,

The Knights and Gentlemen, to come with thee,

Thou Brother Mountague, in Buckingham,
Northampron, and in Leiceſterſhire, ſhalt ſuid
Men well enclin'd to heare what thou command'st.

And thou, braue Oxford, wondrous well belou'd,

In Oxfordſhire ſhalt muſter vp thy friends.

My Soueraigne, with the louing Citizens,
Like to his Iland, gyrt in with the Ocean,

Or modeſt Dyan, circled with her Nymphis,

Shall reſt in London, till we come to him :

Faire Lords take leaue, and fland not to reply.
Farewell my Soueraigne.

King. Farewell my Helfer, and my Troyes true hope.

Clar. In ſigne of truth, I kiff your Highneſſe Hand.

King. Well-minded Clarence, be thou fortunate.

Mount. Comfort, my Lord, and so I take my leaue.

Oxſ. And thus I feale my truth, and bid adieu.

King. Sweet Oxford, and my louing Mountague,

And all at once, once more a happy farewell.

War. Farewell, ſweet Lords, let's meet at Couentry.

Exeunt.

King. Here at the Pallace will I reſt a while.
Cousin of Exeter, what thinkes your Lordship ?

Me thinkes, 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. That's not my ſeare, my meed hath got me fame:
I haue not ſtopt mine eares to their demands,

Nor poſted off their ſuites with flow delays,
My pittie hath beene balme to heale their wounds,

My mildneſſe hath allay'd their ſwelling griefes,

My mercie dry'd their water-flowing teares.

I haue not been defirous of their wealth,

Nor much oppreſſ them with great Subſidies,

Nor forward of reuenge, though they much err'd.

Then why should they loue Edward more then me?

No Exeter, theſe Graces challenge Grace :

q2

And

169

Against his Brother, and his lawfull King.
Perhaps thou wilt obiect my holy Oath:
To keepe that Oath, were more impietie,
Then Iephah, when he sacrific'd his Daughter.

I am so sorry for my Trespas made,
That to deferue well at my Brothers hands,
There proclayme my selfe thy mortall foe:
With refolution, wherefore I meet thee,
(As I will meet thee, if thou fentre abroad)
To plague thee, for thy foule mis-leading me.

And so, prowd-hearted Warwicke, I defie thee,
And to my Brother turne his blushing Cheekes.
Pardon me Edward, I will make amends:
And Richard, doe not frowne upon my faults,
For I will henceforth be no more vnconftant.

Edw. Now welcome more, and ten times more belou'd,
Then if thou neuer hadst deferu'd our hate.

Rich. Welcome good Clarence, this is Brother-like.

Warw. Oh pafling Traytor, periur'd and vniuſt.

Edw. What Warwicke,

Wilt thou leauie the Towne, and fight?

Or shall we beat the Stones about thine Eares?

Warw. Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence:
I will away towards Barnet presently,
And bid thee Battaile, Edward, if thou dar't.

Edw. Yes Warwicke, Edward dares, and leads the way:
Lords to the field: Saint George, and Victorie.
Exeunt.

March. Warwicke and his compante followes.

Alarum, and Excursions. Enter Edward bringing forth Warwicke wounded.

Edw. So, lye thou there; dye thou, and dye our feare,
For Warwicke was a Bugge that fear'd vs all.

Now Mountague fit faſt, I feeke for thee,
That Warwickes Bones may keepe thine companie.

Exit.

Warw. Ah, who is nigh? come to me, friend, or foe,
And tell me who is Victor, Torke, or Warwicke?
Why aske I that ? my mangled body ſhewes,
My blood, my want of ſtrength, my ſicke heart ſhewes,
That I muſt yeeld my body to the Earth,
And by my fall, the conquelt to my ſoe.

Thus yeelds the Cedar to the Axes edge,
Whose Armes gaue ſhelter to the Princely Eagle,
Vnder whose ſhade the ramping Lyon ſlept,
Whose top-branch ouer-peerd Jones ſtreading Tree,
And kept low Shrubs from Winters pow'rfull Winde.
These Eyes, that now are dim'd with Deaths black Veyle,
Hae beene as piercing as the Mid-day Sunne,
To ſearch the ſecret Treaſons of the World:
The Wrinkleſes in my Browes, now ſill'd with blood,
Were lik'ned oft to Kingly ſepulchers:

For who liu'd King, but I could digge his Graue?
And who durſt ſmile, when Warwicke bent his Brow?
Loe, now my Glory ſmeard in duſt and blood,
My Parkes, my Walkes, my Mannors that I had,
Euen now forſake me; and of all my Lands,
Is nothing left me, but my bodies length.

Why, what is Pompe, Rule, Reigne, but Earth and Duſt?
And liue we how we can, yet dye we muſt,
And weep, and weep, and weep, and weep, and weep.

Enter Oxford and Somerset.

Som. Ah Warwicke, Warwicke, wert thou as we are,
We might recouer all our Loffe againe:

The Queene from France hath brought a puiffant power.
Euen now we heard the newes: ah, could'ſt thou flye.

Warw. Why then I would not flye. Ah Mountague,
If thou be there, ſweet Brother, take my Hand,
And with thy Lippes keepe in my Soule a while.
Thou lou'd me not: for, Brother, if thou didſt,
Thy teares would waſh this cold congealed blood,
That glewes my Lippes, and will not let me ſpeake.
Come quickly Mountague, or I am dead.

Som. Ah Warwicke, Mountague hath breath'd his laſt,
And to the latest gaſpe, cry'd out for Warwicke:
And faid, Commend me to my valiant Brother.
And more he would haue faid, and more he ſpoke,
Which founded like a Cannon in a Vault,
That mought not be diſtinguſht: but at laſt,
I well might heare, deliuered with a groane,
Oh farewell Warwicke.

Warw. Sweet reſt his Soule:

Flye Lords, and faue your ſelues,

For Warwicke bids you all farewell, to meet in Heauen.

Oſx. Awaſy, away, to meet the Queenes great power.

Here they beare away his Body.

Exeunt.

Flourish.
Enter King Edward in triumph, with Richard, Clarence, and the reſt.

King. Thus farre our fortune keepes an vpward course,
And we are grac'd with wreaths of Victorie:
But in the midft of this bright-flinching Day,
I spy a blacke ſuspicious threatening Cloud,
That will encounter with our glorious Sunne,
Ere he attaine his eafeſull Weſterne Bed:
I meane, my Lords, that ſothes powers that the Queene
Hath rays'd in Gallia, haue arriued our Coaſt,
And, as we heare, march on to fight with vs.

Clar. A little gale will foome diſperſe that Clouſd,
And blow it to the Source from whence it came,
Thy very Beames will dry that ſoVKurs vp,
For euery Cloud engenders not a Storme.

Rich. The Queene is valued thirtie thouſand ſtrong,
And Somerſet, with Oxford, ſled to her:
If the haue time to breathe, be well affu'd
Her ſaction will be full as ſtrong as ours.

King. We are aduertiſ'd by our louing friends,
That they doe hold their course toward Tewksbury.
We hauing now the beſt at Barnet field,
Will thither ſtraight, for willingneſſe rids way,
And as we march, our ſtrength will be augmented:
In euery Countie as we goe along,

Strike vp the Drumme, cry courage, and away. Exeunt.

Flourish.
March. Enter the Queene, young Edward, Somerſet, Oxford, and ſoldiers.

Qu. Great Lords, wife men ne'r fit and waile their Loffe,
But chearely feeke how to redreſſe their harmes.
What though the Maſt be now blowne ouer-boord,
The Cable broke, the holding-Anchor loft,
And halfe our Saylors ſwallow'd in the flood?
Yet liues our Pilot ſtill. Is't meet, that hee
Should leaue the Helme, and like a ſeaſefull Lad,
With tearefull Eyes adde Water to the Sea,
And giue more ſtrength to that which hath too much,
Whiles in his moane, the Ship ſplits on the Rock,
Which Induſtrie and Courage might haue fau'd?
Ah what a ſhame, ah what a fault were this.

Say Warwicke was our Anchor: what of that?

And

93

And Mountague our Top-Maft: what of him?
Our flought red friends, the Tackles: what of these?
Why is not Oxford here, another Anchor?
And Somerset, another goodly Maft?
The friends of France our Shrowds and Tacklings?
And though vnskilfull, why not Ned and I,
For once allow'd the skilfull Pilots Charge?
We will not from the Helme, to fit and weepe,
But keepe our Courfe (though the rough Winde say no)
From Shelues and Rocks, that threaten vs with Wrack,
As good to chide the Waues, as speake them faire.
And what is Edward, but a ruthleſſe Sea?
What Clarence, but a Quick-fand of Deceit?
And Richard, but a raged fatall Rocke?
All theſe, the Enemies to our poore Barke.
Say you can twim, alas'tis but a while:
Tread on the Sand, why there you quickly finke,
Beftride the Rock, the Tyde will waſt you off,
Or eſſe you famiſh, that's a three-fold Death.
This speake I (Lords) to let you vnderſtand,
If caſe some one of you would flye from vs,
That there's no hop'd-for Mercy with the Brothers,
More then with ruthleſſe Waues, with Sands and Rocks.
Why courage then, what cannot be auoide,
'Twere childliſh weakenſe to lament, or ſeare.

Prince. Me thinkes a Woman of this valiant Spirit,
Should, if a Coward heard her ſpeake theſe words,
Infuſe his Braeſt with Magnanimitie,
And make him naked, ſoyle a man at Armes.
I ſpeake not this, as doubting any here:
For did I but ſuſpect a ſearefull man,
He should haue leaue to goe away betimes,
Leaſt in our need he might inſect another,
And make him of like ſpirit to himſelſe.
If any ſuch be here, as God forbid,
Let him depart, before we neede his helpe.
Oſſ. Women and Children of ſo high a courage,
And Warriors ſaint, why 'twere perpetuall ſhame.
Oh braue young Prince: thy famous Grandfather
Doth line againe in thee; long may ſt thou line,
To beare his Image, and renew his Glories.
Som. And he that will not fight for ſuch a hope,
Goe home to Bed, and like the Owle by day,
If he avife, be mock'd and wondred at.

Qu. Thankes gentle Somerſet, Iweet Oxford thankes.

Prince. And take his thankes, that yet hath nothing
elfe.

Enter a Messenger.

Meff. Prepare you Lords, for Edward is at hand,
Readie to fight: therefore be refolute.

Oſſ. I thought no leſſe: it is his Policie,
To haſte thus faſt, to finde vs vnprouided.

Som. But hee's deceiu'd, we are in readineſſe.

Qu. This cheares my heart, to ſee your forwardneſſe.

Oſſ. Here pitch our Battaille, hence we will not budge.

Flourish, and march. Enter Edward, Richard,
Clarence, and Seulldiers.

Edw. Braue followers, yonder stands the thorne Wood,
Which by the Heauens affiſtance, and your ſtrength,
Mauſt by the Roots be hewne vp yet ere Nightes.
I need not adde more ſuell to your fire,
For well I wot, ye blaze, to burne them out;
Gue ſignall to the fight, and to it Lords.

Qu. Lords, Knights, and Gentlemen, what I should do,
My teares gaine-lay: for every word I ſpeake,
Ye see I drinke the water of my eye.
Therefore no more but this: Henry your Soueraigne
Is Prifoner to the Foe, his State vurp'd,
His Realme a ſlaughter-houſe, his Subieſts ſaine,
His Statutes cancell'd, and his Treasure ſpent:
And yonder is the Wolfe, that makes this ſpoyle.
You fight in Iuſtice: then in Gods Name, Lords,
Be valiant, and giue ſignall to the fight.
Alarum, Retreat, Excursions.

Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard, Queene, Clarence,
Oxford, Somerſet.

Edw. Now here a period of tumultuous Broyles.
Away with Oxford to Hames Castle ſtraight:
For Somerſet, off with his guilcie Head.
Goe beare them hence, I will not beare them ſpeake.
Oſſ. For my part, Ile not trouble thee with words.
Som. Nor I, but ſtoupe with patience to my fortune.
Exeunt.

Qu. So part we fadly in this troublous World,
To meet with Ioy in ſweet Ierusalem.
Edw. Is Proclamation made, That who finds Edward,
Shall haue a high Reward, and he his Life?

Rich. It is, and loe where youthfull Edward comes

Enter the Prince.

Edw. Bring forth the Gallant, let vs heare him ſpeake.
What? can ſo young a Thorne begin to prick?
Edward, what fatisſation can't thou make,
For bearing Armes, for fltirring vp my Subieſts,
And all the trouble thou haſt turn'd me to?

Prince. ſpeake like a Subieſt, proude ambitious Turke.
Suppofe that I am now my Fathers Mouch,
Reſigne thy Chayre, and where I stand, kneele thou,
Whilft I propoſe the ſelſe-lame words to thee,
Which (Traytor) thou would't haue me anſwerto,
Qu. Ab, that my Father had beene ſo refolu'd.

Rich. That you might ſtill haue worne the Retticolt,
And ne're haue ſolne the Breech from Lancaſter,
Prince. Let Æſop ſable in a Winters Night,
His Curriſh Riddles forts not with this place.

Rich. By Heauen, Brat, Ile plague ye for that word.

Qu. I, thou waſt borne to be a plague to men.

Rich. For Gods ſake, take away this Captive Scold.

Prince. Nay, take away this ſcolding Crooke-backe,
rather.

Edw. Peace wilfull Boy, or I will charme your Tongues.

Char. Vntur'd Lad, thou art too malapert.

Prince. I know my dute, you are all vndutifull:
Laſciuious Edward, and thou periu'd George,

And thou miſ-shapen Dicks, I tell ye all,

I am your better, Traytors as ye are,

And thou vurp'dt my Fathers right and mine.

Edw. Take that, the likeneſſe of this Rayler here.

Stabs him.

Rich. Sprawl't thou? take that, to end thy agonie.

Rich. Stabs him.

Char. And ther's for twitting me with perируe.

Char. Stabs him.

Qu. Oh, kill me too.

Rich. Marry, and ſhall.

Offers to kill her.

Edw. Hold, Richard, hold, for we haue done too much.
Rich. Why?

Rich. Why?

["The third Part of King Henry the Sixt.", "171", "Rich. Why should shee liue, to fill the World with\nwords.", "Edw. What ? doth shee fowwne? vſe meanes for her\nrecouerie.", "Rich. Clarence excufe me to the King my Brother :\nIle hence to London on a ferious matter,\nEre ye come there, be ſure to heare some newes.", "Cla. What? what ?", "Rich. Tower, the Tower.", "Exit.", "Qu. Oh Ned, sweet Ned, (speake to thy Mother Boy.\nCan it thou not ſpcake? O Traitors, Murtherers!", "They that ſtabb'd Caſar, ſhed no blood at all :", "Did not offend, nor were not worthy Blame,\nIf his ſoule deed were by, to equall it.", "He was a Man; this (in reſpect) a Childe,", "And Men, ne're ſpend their fury on a Childe.", "What's worſe then Murtherer, that I may name it ?", "No, no, my heart will burſt, and if I ſpeake,", "And I will ſpeake, that ſo my heart may burſt.", "Butchers and Villaines, bloudy Caniballes,", "How ſweet a Plant you vntimely cropt :", "You haue no children (Butchers) if you had,", "The thought of them would haue flirr'd vp remorſe,", "But if you euer chance to haue a Childe,", "Looke in his youth to haue him ſo cut off.", "As deathſmen you haue rid this ſweet yong Prince.", "King. Away with her, go beare her hencely perforce.", "Qu. Nay, neuer beare me hence, diſpatch me here :\nHere heath thy Sword, Ile pardon thee my death:", "What ? wif't thou not? Then Clarence do it thou.", "Cla. By beauen, I will not do thee ſo much eſe.", "Qu. Good Clarence do: ſweet Clarence do thou do it.", "Cla. Did it thou not heare me ſware I would not do it?", "Qu. I, but thou wſeft to forſware thy ſelſe.", "Two. Sin before, but now 'tis Charity.", "What wif't you not? Where is that diuies butcher Richard?", "Hard fauor of Richard? Richard, where art thou ?", "Thou art not heere; Murther is thy Almeſ-deed :", "Petitioners for Blood, thou ne're put it backe.", "Ed. Away I faſy, I charge ye beare her hence,", "Qu. So come to you, and yours, as to this Prince.", "Exit Queene.", "Ed. Where's Richard gone.", "Cla. To London all in poſt, and as I gueſſe,", "To make a bloody Supper in the Tower.", "Ed. He's fodaine if a thing comes in his head.", "Now march we hence, discharge the common ſort", "With Pay and Thankes, and let's away to London,", "And fee our gentle Queene how well the ſares,", "By this (I hope) she hath a Sonne for me.", "Exit.", "Enter Henry the fixt, and Richard, with the Lieutenant\non the Walles.", "Rich. Good day, my Lord, what at your Booke ſo\nhard?", "Hen. I my good Lord: my Lord I should ſay rather,", "Tis finne to flatter, Good was little better :", "'Good Glofter, and good Deuill, were alike,", "And both preſofterous: therefore, not Good Lord.", "Hen. Sirra, leaue vs to our ſelues, we muſt conferre.", "Hen. So flies the weakleſſe (shepheſord from ſy Wolfe:", "So firſt the harmleſſe Sheepe doth yeeld his Fleece,", "And next his Throate, vnto the Butchers Knife.", "What Scene of death hath Roffins now to Aſte ?", "Rich. Sufpition always haunts the guilty minde,", "The Theefe doth ſeare each buſh an Officer,", "Hen. The Bird that hath bin limed in a buſh,", "With trembling wings mid doubteth euery buſh;", "And I the hapleſſe Male to one ſweet Bird,", "Hae now the fatall Obieſt in my eye,", "Where my poore yong was lim'd, was caught, and kill'd.", "Rich. Why what a peuifh Foole was that of Creet,", "That taught his Sonne the office of a Fowle,", "And yet for all his wings, the Foole was droun'd.", "Hen. I Dedaius, my poore Boy Icarus,", "Thy Father Mimos, that deni'de our courſe,", "The Sunne that fear'd the wings of my ſweet Boy.", "Thy Brother Edward, and thy ſelſe, the Sea", "Whose enuious Gulſe did ſwallow vp his life:", "Ah, kill me with thy Weapon, not with words,", "My breſt can better brooke thy Daggers point,", "Then can my eares that Tragicke Hiftory.", "But wherefore doſt thou come? Is't for my Life ?", "Rich. Think it thou I am an Executioner ?", "Hen. A Perſecutor I am ſure thou art,", "If murthering Innocents be Executing,", "Why then thou art an Executioner.", "Rich. Thy Son I kill'd for his preſumption.", "Hen. Had ſt thou bin kill'd, when firſt I did preſume,", "Thou had't not liu'd to kill a Sonne of mine:", "And thus I propheſie, that many a thousand,", "Which now miſtrauſt no parcell of my ſeare,", "And many an old mans ſigne, and many a Widdowes,", "And many an Orphans water-ſtanding-eye,", "Men for their Sonnes, Wines for their Husbands,", "Orphans, for their Parents timeles death,", "Shall rue the houre that euer thou was't borne.", "The Owle ſhriek'd at thy birth, an euill ſigne,", "The Night-Crow cry'd, aboding luckleſſe time,", "Dogs howl'd, and hiddeous Tempeſt ſhook down Trees:", "The Rauen rook'd her on the Chimnies top,", "And chattering Pies in diſmall Diſcords ſung :", "Thy Mother felt more then a Mothers paine,", "And yet brought forth Ieſſe then a Mothers hope,", "To wit, an indigeſted and deformed lumpe,", "Not like the fruit of ſuch a goodly Tree.", "Teeth had it thou in thy head, when thou was't borne,", "To ſignifie, thou cam't to bite the world:", "And if the reſt be true, which I haue heard,", "Thou cam't—", "Rich. Ile heare no more:", "Stabbes him.", "Dye Prophet in thy ſpeech,", "For this (among it the reſt) was I ordain'd.", "Hen. I, and for much more ſlaughter after this,", "O God forgiue my finnes, and pardon thee.", "Dyes.", "Rich. What? will the aspiring blood of Lancaſter", "Sinke in the ground? I thought it would haue mounted,", "See how my ſword weepes for the poore Kings death.", "O may ſuch purple teares be alway ſhed", "From thofe that wifh the downſail of our houſe.", "If any ſparke of Life be yet remaining,", "Downe, downe to hell, and ſay I ſent thee thither.", "Stabs him againe.", "I that haue neyther pitty, leue, nor ſeare,", "Indeed 'tis true that Henrie told me of:", "For I haue often heard my Mother ſay,", {"bbox": [449, 1258,

And so I was, which plainly signified,
That I should snarle, and bite, and play the dogge:
Then since the Heauens haue shap'd my Body so,
Let Hell make crook'd my Minde to anſwer it.
I haue no Brother, I am like no Brother:
And this word [Loue] which Gray-beards call Diuine,
Be confident in men like one another,
And not in me: I am my ſelfe alone.
Clarence beware, thou kcept it me from the Light,
But I will fort a pitchy day for thee:
For I will buzze abroad ſuch Prophesies,
That Edward ſhall be fearefull of his life,
And then to purge his ſeare, I be thy death.
King Henry, and the Prince his Son areigone,
Clarence thy turne is next, and then the reſt,
Counting my ſelfe but bad, till I be beſt.
Ile throw thy body in another roome,
And Triumph Henry, in thy day of Doome.

Exit.

Exlurish. Enter King, Queene, Clarence, Richard, Haſtings, Nurſe, and Attendants.

King. Once more we fit in Englands Royall Throre,
Re-purcha'd with the Blood of Enemies:
What valiant Foe-men, like to Autumnes Corne,
Hauë we mow'd downe in tops of all their pride ?
Three Dukes of Somerset, threesold Renowne,
For hardy and vndoubted Champions:
Two Cliffsors, as the Father and the Sonne,
And two Northumberlands: two brauer men,
Ne're ſpurr'd their Courſers at the Trumpets found.
With them, the two braue Beares, Warwick & Montague,
That in their Chaines fetter'd the Kingly Lyon,
And made the Forreſt tremble when they roar'd.

Thus haue we swept Suſpition from our Seate,
And made our Footstoole of Security.
Come hither Beſſe, and let me kiffie my Boy:
Yong Ned, for thee, thine Vnckles, and my ſelfe,
Hauë in our Armors watceth the Winters night,
Went all afoote in Summers ſcalding heate,
That thou might'st ſt reposſeſſe the Crowne in peace,
And of our Labours thou ſhalt reape the gaine.
Rich. Ile blaſt his Harueſt, if your head were laid,
For yet I am not look'd on in the world.
This ſhoulder was ordain'd so thicke, to haue,
And haue it shall ſome waight, or breake my backe,
Worke thou the way, and that ſhalt execute.
King. Clarence and Gloſter, loue my louely Queene,
And kis your Princely Nephew Brothers both,
Cla. The duty that I owe vnto your Maiety,
I Seale vpon the lips of this ſweet Babe.
Cla. Thanke Noble Clarence, worthy brother thanks.
Rich. And that I loue the tree from whence ſprang it:
Witneſſe the louing kiffie I giue the Fruite,
To ſay the truth, so Iudas kifft his Maſter,
And cried all haile, when as he meant all harme.
King. Now am I feared as my soule delights,
Hauing my Countries peace, and Brothers loues,
Cla. What will your Grace haue done with Margaret,
Reynard her Father, to the King of France
Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Ieruſalem,
And hither haue they ſent it for her ransome.
King. Away with her, and waſt her hence to France:
And now what reſts, but that we ſpend the time
With ſtately Triumphes, mirthfull Comicke ſhewes,
Such as beſits the pleasure of the Court.
Sound Drums and Trumpets, farwell ſowre annoy,
For here I hope begins our laſting ioy.
Exult in our amusements

FINIS.

173

# The Tragedy of Richard the Third:
with the Landing of Earle Richmond, and the
Battell at Bosworth Field.

Actus Primus.

Scena Prima.

Enter Richard Duke of Gloster solus.

Now is the Winter of our Discontent,
Made glorious Summer by this Son of Yorke:
And all the clouds that low'd vpon our house
In the deepe boſome of the Ocean buried.

Now are our brows bound with Victorious Wreathes,
Our bruifed armes hung vp for Monuments;
Our ſterne Alarums chang'd to merry Meetings;
Our dreadfull Marches, to delightful Meaſures.

Grim-vifag'd Warre, hath Iſmooth'd his wrinkled Front:
And now, in ſtead of mounting Barbed Steeds,
To ſright the Soules of ſearfull Aduerfaries,
He capers nimbly in a Ladies Chamber,
To the laſciuious pleafing of a Lute.

But I, that am not ſhap'd for ſportiue tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous Looking-glaſſe:
I, that am Rudely ſtampt, and want loues Maieſty,
To ſtrut before a wonton ambling Nymph:
I, that am curtail'd of this faire Proportion,
Cheated of Feature by diſſembling Nature,
Deform'd, vn-fiſh'd, ſent before my time
Into this breathing World, ſearſe half made vp;

And that ſo lamely and vnſaſhionable,
That dogges barke at me, as I halt by them.
Why I (in this weake piping time of Peace)
Hauen delight to paffe away the time,
Vndeſſe to ſee my Shadow in the Sunne,
And decant on mine owne Deformity.
And therefore, ſince I cannot proue a Louer,
To entertaine theſe faire well ſpoken dayes,
I am determined to proue a Villaine,
And hate the idle pleaſures of theſe dayes.
Plots haue I laide, Inductions dangerous,
By drunken Propheſies, Libels, and Dreames,
To let my Brother Clarence and the King
In deadly hate, the one againſt the other;
And if King Edward be as true and iuſt,
As I am Subtle, Falſe, and Treacherous,
This day ſhould Clavence cloſely be mew'd vp:
About a Propheſie, which ſayes that G,
Of Edwards heyres the furtherest shall be.
DUE thoughts downe to my foule here Clavence comes.

Enter Clavence, and Brakenbury guarded.
Brother, good day: What meanes this armed guard

That waits vpon your Grace?

Cla. His Maieſty tending my perſons safety,
Hath appointed this Conduct, to conuey me to th' Tower

Rich. Vpon what caufe ?

Cla. Because my name is George.

Rich. Alacke my Lord, that fault is none of yours:
He ſhould for that commit your Godfathers.
O belike, his Maieſty hath ſome intenc,
That you ſhould be new Chriftned in the Tower,
But what's the matter Clavence, may I know?

Cla. Yea Richard, when I know: but I proteſſ
As yet I do not: But as I can learne,
He hearkens after Propheſies and Dreames,
And from the Croſſe-row pluckes the letter G:
And ſayes, 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.
Theseſe (as I learne) and ſuch like toyes as theſe,
Hath moou'd his Highneſſe to commit me now.

Rich. Why this it is, when men are rul'd by Women:
'Tis not the King that ſends you to the Tower,
My Lady Grey his Wife, Clavence 'tis ſhee,
That tempts him to this harſh Extremity.
Was it not ſhee, and that good man of Wotſhip,
Anthony Woodenlle her Brother there,
That made him ſend Lord Haſtings to the Tower?
From whence this preſent day he is deliuered?
We are not ſafe Clavence, we are not ſafe.

Cla. By heauen, I thinke there is no man ſecure
But the Queene's Kindred, and night-walking Herſalды,
That truſde betwixt the King, and Milſtis Shores,
Heard you not what an humble Suppliane
Lord Haſtings was, for her deliuerie?

Rich. Humbly complaining to her Deitie,
Got my Lord Chambeilaine his libertie.
Ile tell you what, I thinke it is our way,
If we will keepe in ſaunce with the King,
To be her men, and weare her Liuery.
The iеalous ore-worne Widdow, and her ſelſe,
Since that our Brother dub'd them Gentlewomen,
Are mighty Gofſips in our Monarchy.

Bra. I beſeech your Graces both to pardon me,
His Maieſty hath ſtraightly giuen in charge,
That no man shall haue priuate Conference
(Of what degree ſoever) with your Brother.

Rich.

The Life and Death of Richard the Third.

Rich. Euen so, and pleate your Worship Brakenbury,
You may partake of any thing we say:
We speak no Treason man; We say the King
Is wife and vertuous, and his Noble Queene
Well tbrooke in yeares, faire, and not ialious.
We say, that Shores Wife hath a pretty Foot,
A cherry Lip, a bonny Eye, a palfing pleasing tongue:
And that the Queens Kindred are made gentle Folkes,
How say you fir? can you deny all this?

Bra. With this (my Lord) my felfe haue nought to
doo.

Rich. Naught to do with Miftris Shore?
I tell thee Fellow, he that doth naught with her
(Excepting one) were beft to do it secretly alone.

Bra. What one, my Lord?

Rich. Her Husband Knaue, would'ft thou betray me?

Bra. I do befeech your Grace
To pardon me, and withall forbeare
Your Conference with the Noble Duke.

Cla. We know thy charge Brakenbury, and will obey.

Rich. We are the Queens abiects, and muft obey.

Brother farewell, I will vnto the King,
And whatsoe'rt you will imploy me in,
Were it to call King Edwards Widdow, Sifter,
I will performe it to infranchife you.
Meane time, this deepe difgrace in Brotherhood,
Touches me deeper then you can imagine.

Cla. I know it pleafeth neither of vs well,

Rich. Well, your imprifonment shall not be long,
I will deliuer you, or else lye for you:
Meane time, haue patience.

Cla. I muft perforce: Farewell.
Rich. Go treade the path that thou fhalt ne're return:
Simple plaine Clarence, I do loue thee so,
That I will shortly ſend thy Soule to Heauen,
If Heauen will take the preſent at our hands.
But who comes heere? the new deliuered Haffings?

Enter Lord Haffings.

Haff. Good time of day vnto my gracious Lord.

Rich. As much vnto my good Lord Chamberlaine:
Well are you welcome to this open Ayre,
How hath your Lordship brook'd imprifonment?

Haff. With patience (Noble Lord) as prifoners muſt
But I ſhall liue (my Lord) to giue them thankses
That were the caufe of my imprifonment.

Rich. No doubt, no doubt, and ſo shall Clarence too,
For they that were your Enemies, are his,
And haue preuail'd as much on him, as you,

Haff. More pitty, that the Eagles should be mew'd,
Whiles Kites and Buzards play at liberty.

Rich. What newes abroad?

Haff. No newes ſo bad abroad, as this at home:
The King is fickly, weake, and melancholly,
And his Phyſitians feare him mightily.

Rich. Now by S. Iohn, that Newes is bad indeed.
O he hath kept an euill Diet long,
And ouer-much consum'd his Royall Person:
'Tis very greeneous to be thought upon.
Where is he, in his bed?

Haff. He is.

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

He cannot liue I hope, and muſt not dye,
Till George be pack'd with poſt-horſe vp to Heauen.

Ile into vrge his hatred more to Clarence,
With Lyes well ſteel'd with weighty Arguments,
And if I faile not in my deepe intent,
Clarence hath not another day to liue:

Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy,
And leaue the world for me to buſe in.

For then, Ile marry Warwickes yongest daughter,
What though I kill'd her Husband, and her Father,
The readieſt way to make the Wench amends,
Is to become her Husband, and her Father:

The which will I, not all ſo much for loue,
As for another ſecret close intent,
By marrying her, which I muſt reach vnto.
But yet I run before my horſe to Market:

Clarence ſtill breathes, Edward ſtill liues and raignes,
When they are gone, then muſt I count my gaines. Exit

## Scena Secunda.

Enter the Coarſe of Henrie the fixt with Halberds to guard.
Lady Anne being the Mourner.

Anne. Set downe, let downe your honourable load,
If Honor may be ſhrowded in a Herſe;
Whilft I a while obſequiously lament
Th' vntimely fall of Vertuous Lancaſter,
Poore key-cold Figure of a holy King,
Pale Athes of the House of Lancaſter;
Thou bloodleſſe Remnant of that Royall Blood,
Be it lawfull that I inuocate thy Ghoſt,
To heare the Lamentations of poore Anne,
Wife to thy Edward, to thy ſlaughtred Sonne,
Stab'd by the ſelfeſame hand that made theſe wounds,
Loe, in theſe windowes that let forth thy life,
I powre the helpleſſe Balme of my poore eyes.
O curled be the hand that made theſe holes:

Curfed the Heart, that had the heart to do it;
Cnrſed the Blood, that let this blood from hence:
More direfull hap betide that hated Wretch
That makes vs wretched by the death of thee,
Then I can wifh to Wolues, to Spiders, Toades,
Or any creeping venom'd thing that liues.
If euer he haue Childe, Abortiue be it,
Prodigious, and vntimely brought to light,
Whofe vgly and vnnatural Aſpect
May fright the hopefull Mother at the view,
And that be Heyre to his vnhappineſſe.
If euer he haue Wife, let her be made
More miſerable by the death of him,
Then I am made by my young Lord, and thee.
Come now towards Chertſey with your holy Lode,
Taken from Paules, to be interred there.
And ſtill as you are weary of this waight,
Reſt you, whiles I lament King Henries Coarſe.

Enter Richard Duke of Gloſter.

Rich. Stay you that beare the Coarſe, & ſet it down.
An: What blacke Magitian coniures vp this Fiend,
To ſtop devoted charitable deeds?

Rich. Villaines ſet downe the Coarſe, or by S. Paul,
Ile make a Coarſe of him that diſobeyes.

["The Life and Death of Richard the Third.", "175", "Gen. My Lord stand backe, and let the Coffin paffe.", "Rich. Vnmanner'd Dogg,", "Stand't thou when I commaade :", "Advance thy Halbert higher then my breft,", "Or by S. Paul the strike thee to my Foote,", "And þurme vpon thee Begger for thy boldneſſe.", "Anne. What do you tremble? are you all affraid?", "Aias, I blame you not, for you are Mortall,", "And Mortall eyes cannot endure the Diuell.", "Auant thou dreadfull minifter of Hell ;", "Thou had't but power ouer his Mortall body,", "His Soule thou canſt not haue: Therefore be gone.", "Rich. Sweet Saint, for Charity, be not so curſt,", "An. Foule Diuell,", "For Gods ſake hence, and trouble vs not,", "For thou haſt made the happy earth thy Hell :", "Fill'd it with curſing cries, and deepe exclaimes :", "If thou delight to view thy heynous deeds,", "Behold this pacterne of thy Butcheries.", "Oh Gentlemen, fee, fee dead Heuries wounds,", "Open their congeal'd mouths, and bleed afresh.", "Bluſh, bluſh, thou lumpe of ſowle Deſormitie:", "For't is thy preſence that exhaltes this blood", "From cold and empty Veines where no blood dwels,", "Thy Deeds inhumane and vnnaturall,", "Prouokes this Deluge moſt vnnaturall.", "O God! which this Blood mad'ft, reuenge his death:", "O Earth! which this Blood drink'ft, reuenge his death.", "Either Heau'n with Lightning ſtrike the murth'r dead :", "Or Earth gape open wide, and eate him quicke,", "As thou doſt ſwallow vp this good Kings blood,", "Which his Hell-gouern'd arme hath butchered.", "Rich. Lady, you know no Rules of Charity,", "Which renders good for bad, Bleſſings for Curiſes.", "An. Villaine, thou know'ſt nor law of God nor Man,\nNo Beaſt ſo ſterſe, but knowes some touch of pitty.", "Rich. But I know none, and therefore am no Beaſt.", "An. O wonderfull, when diuels tell the trut!", "Rich. More wonderfull, when Angels are ſo angry :", "Vouchſafe (diuine perſection of a Woman)", "Of theſe ſuppofed Crimes, to giue me leaue", "By Circumſtance, but to acquit my ſelfe.", "An. Vouchſafe (defus'd inſection of man)", "Of theſe knowne euils, but to giue me leaue", "By Circumſtance, to curſe thy curſed ſelfe.", "Rich. Fairer then tongue can name thee, let me haue\nSome patient leyſure to excufe my ſelfe.", "An. Fouler then heart can thinke thee,", "Thou can't make no excufe currant,", "But to hang thy ſelfe.", "Rich. By ſuch diſpaire, I should accuſe my ſelfe.", "An. And by diſpairing that thou ſtand excuſed,\nFor doing worthy Vengeance on thy ſelfe,\nThat did't vnworthy ſlaughter vpon others.", "Rich. Say that I flew them nor.", "An. Then ſay they were not ſlaine :", "But dead they are, and diuellilſh ſlaue by thee.", "Rich. I did not kill your Husband.", "An. Why then he is aliue.", "Rich. Nay, he is dead, and ſlaine by Edwards hands.", "An. In thy foule throat thou Ly'ft,", "Queene Margaret ſaw", "Thy murd'rous Faulchion smoaking in his blood:", "The which, thou once did'dt bend againſt her breſt.", "But that thy Brothers beate alſide the point.", "Rich. I was prouoked by her fland'rous tongue,", "That laid their guilt, vpon my guilſleſſe Shoulders.", "An. Thou was't prouok'd by thy bloody minde,", "That neuer dream'ſt on ought but Butcheries:", "Did't thou not kill this King ?", "Rich. I graunt yce.", "An. Do't grant me Hedge-hogge,", "Then God graunt me too", "Thou may'ſt be damned for that wicked deede,", "O he was gentle, milde, and vertuous.", "Rich. The better for the King of heauen that hath him.", "An. He is in heauen, where thou ſhalt neuer come.", "Rich. Let him thanke me, that holpe to ſend him thither:", "For he was fitter for that place then earth.", "An. And thou vnſit for any place, but hell.", "Rich. Yes one place else, if you will heare me name it.", "An. Some dungeon.", "Rich. Your Bed-chamber.", "An. I'll reſt betide the chamber where thou lyeſt,", "Rich. So will it Madam, till I lye with you.", "An. I hope ſo.", "Rich. I know ſo. But gentle Lady Anne,", "To leaue this keene encounter of our wittes,", "And fall ſomething into a flower method.", "Is not the cauſer of the timeſleſſe deaths", "Of these Plantagenets, Henrie and Edward,", "As blamefull as the Executioner.", "An. Thou was't the cauſe, and moſt accuſt effect,", "Rich. Your beauty was the cauſe of that effect :", "Your beauty, that did haunt me in my ſleepe,", "To vndertake the death of all the world,", "So I might liue one houre in your ſweet boſome.", "An. If I thought that, I tell thee Homicide,", "These ſnailes should rent that beauty from my Cheekes.", "Rich. These eyes could not endure ſy beauties wrack,", "You should not blemiſh it, if I ſtood by :", "As all the world is cheared by the Sunne,", "So I by that : It is my day, my life.", "An. Blacke night ore-shade thy day, & death thy life.", "Rich. Curiſe not thy ſelfe faire Creature,", "Thou art both.", "An. I would I were, to be reueng'd on thee.", "Rich. It is a quarrell moſt vnnaturall,", "To be reueng'd on him that loueth thee.", "An. It is a quarrell juſt and reaſonable,", "To be reueng'd on him that kill'd my Husband.", "Rich. He that bereſt the Lady of thy Husband,", "Did it to helpe thee to a better Husband.", "An. His better doth not breath vpon the earth.", "Rich. He liues, that loues thee better then he could.", "An. Name him.", "Rich. Plantagenet.", "An. Why that was he.", "Rich. The ſelſe fame name, but one of better Nature.", "An. Where is he ?", "Rich. Heere :", "Spits at him.", "Why doſt thou ſpit at me.", "An. Would it were mortall poyſon, for thy ſake.", "Rich. Neuer came poyſon from ſo ſweet a place.", "An. Neuer hung poyſon on a fowler Toade.", "Out of my fight, thou doſt inſect mine eyes.", "Rich. Thine eyes (sweet Lady) haue inſected mine.", {"bbox": [447

176

Sham'd their Aspects with store of childish drops:
These eyes, which neuer shed remoriefull teares,
No, when my Father Yorke, and Edward wept,
To heare the pittious moane that Rutland made
When black-fac'd Clifford, Sooke his Sword at him.

Nor when thy warlike Father like a Childe,
Told the sad dorie of my Fathers death,
And twenty times, made paute to sob and weepe:
That all the flanders by had wet their cheekes
Like Trees bedaith'd with raine. In that fad time,
My manly eyes did Sorne an humble teare :
And what these forrowes could not thence exhale,
Thy Beauty hath, and made them blinde with weeping.
I neuer fued to Friend, nor Enemy :
My Tongue could neuer learne sweet Smoothing word.
But now thy Beauty is propos'd my Fee,
My proud heart fues, and prompts my tongue to Speak.

She looks soornfully at him.

Teach not thy lip such Scorne; for it was made
For killing Lady, not for such contempt.
If thy reuengefull heart cannot forgive,
Loe heere I lend thee this Sharpe-pointed Sword,
Which if thou pleafe to hide in this true breft,
And let the Soule forth that adoreth thee,
I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,
And humbly begge the death upon my knee,

He layes his breft open, she offers at with his sword.

Nay do not paufe: For I did kill King Henrie,
But 'twas thy Beauty that prouoked me.

Nay now dispatch: 'Twas I that stabb'd yong Edward,
But 'twas thy Heauenly face that set me on.

She fals the Sword.

Take vp the Sword againe, or take vp me.

An. Arife Disembler, though I wifh thy death,
I will not be thy Executioner.
Rich. Then bid me kill my selfe, and I will do it.

An. I haue already.

Rich. That was in thy rage:

Speake it againe, and euen with the word,
This hand, which for thy loue, did kill thy Loue,
Shall for thy loue, kill a farre truer Loue,
To both their deaths, shaft thou be accesseary.

An. I would I knew thy heart.

Rich. 'Tis figur'd in my tongue.

An. I feare me, both are false.

Rich. Then neuer Man was true.

An. Well, well, put vp your Sword.

Rich. Say then my Peace is made.

An. That shaft thou know heereafter.

Rich. But shall I liue in hope.

An. All men I hope liue so.

Vouchsafe to weare this Ring.

Rich. Looke how my Ring incompaffeth thy Finger,
Euen so thy Breft inclofeth my poore heart:
Weare both of them, for both of them are thine.
And if thy poore deuoted Seruant may
But beg one fauour at thy gracious hand,
Thou doft confirme his happineſſe for euer.

An. What is it?

Rich. That it may pleafe you leaueth these sad defignes,
To him that hath moſt cauſe to be a Mourner,
And presently repayre to Crosbie Houſe a
Where (after I haue solemnly interr'd
At Chertſey Monaſt'ry this Noble King,
And wet his Graue with my Repentant Teares)
I will with all expedient duty see you,

For diuer vnknowne Reafons, I beſeech you,
Grant me this Boon.

An. With all my heart, and much it ioyes me too,
To fee you are become so penitent.

Tressel and Barkley, go along with me.

Rich. Bid me far well.

An. 'Tis more then you deferue :
But ſince you teach me how to flatter you,
Imagine I haue ſaide farewell already.

Exit two with Anne.

Gent. Towards Chertſey, Noble Lord?

Rich. No: to White Friars, there attend my comming.

Exit Conf.

Was euer woman in this humour woo'd?
Was euer woman in this humour wonne?
Ile haue her, but I will not keepe her long,
What? I that kill'd her Husband, and his Father,
To take her in her hearts extreameſt hate,
With curſes in her mouth, Teares in her eyes,
The bleeding witneſſe of my hatred by,
Hauing God, her Conſience, and theſe bars against me,
And I, no Friends to backe my ſuite withall,
But the plaine Diuell, and diſſembling lookes?
And yet to winne her? All the world to nothing,
Hah!

Hath he forgot already that braue Prince,
Edward, her Lord, whom I (some three months ſince)
Stab'd in my angry mood, at Tewkesbury?

A sweeter, and a louelier Gentleman,

Fram'd in the prodigality of Nature :

Yong, Valiant, Wife, and (no doubt) right Royal,
The Spacious World cannot againe affoord:
And will he yet abafe her eyes on me,

That cropt the Golden prime of this sweet Prince,
And made her Widdow to a woſull Bed?

On me, whoſe All not equals Edwards Moytie?

On me, that halts, and am miſhapen thus?

My Dukedome, to a Beggerly denier!

I do miſtake my perſon all this while:

Vpon my life he findes (although I cannot)

My ſelfe to be a maru'llous proper man.

Ile be at Charges for a Looking-glasse,
And entertaine a ſcore or two of Taylors,

To ſtudy ſafions to adorne my body :

Since I am crept in ſaуur with my ſelſe,
I will maintaine it with ſome little coſt.

But firſt I turne yout Fellow in his Graue,
And then returne lamenting to my Loue.

Shine out faire Sunne, till I haue bought a glaſſe,
That I may ſee my Shadow as I paffe.

exl.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter the Queene Mother, Lord Risers,
and Lord Gray.

Rin. Haue patience Madam, ther's no doubt his Maiſer
Will foone recouer his accuſtom'd health.

Gray. In that you brooke it ill, it makes him wofe,
Therefore for Gods ſake entertaine good comfort,
And cheere his Grace with quicke and merry eyes

Qh. If he were dead, what would betide on me?

Gray.

177

Gray. No other harme, but loſſe of ſuch a Lord.

Qu. The loſſe of ſuch a Lord, includes all harmes.

Gray. The Heauens haue bleſt you with a goodly Son,
To be your Comforter, when he is gone.

Qu. Ah! he is yong; and his minority

Is put vnto the truſt of Richard Glouſter,
A man that loues not me, nor none of you.

Riu. Is it concluded he shall be Protector?

Qu. It is determin'd, not concluded yet:

But so it must be, if the King miſcarry.

### Enter Buckingham and Derby.

Gray. Here comes the Lord of Buckingham & Derby.

Buc. Good time of day vnto your Royall Grace.

Der. God make your Maiefly ioyful, as you haue bin
Qu. The Counteſſe Richmond, good my L. of Derby.

To your good prayer, will I carleſtay, Amen.

Yet Derv. not with ſtanding ſhee's your wife,
And loues not me, be you good Lord aſſur'd,
I hate not you for her proud arrogance.

Der. I do beſeech you, either not beleeue

The enuious ſlanders of her ſelfe Accufers:

Or if she be accus'd on true report,

Bear e with her weakneſſe, which I thinke proceeds
From wayward ſickneſſe, and no grounded malice.

Qu. Saw you the King to day my Lord of Derby.

Der. But now the Duke of Buckingham and I,
Are come from visiting his Maiefly.

Que. What likelyhood of his amendment Lords.

Buc. Madam good hope, his Grace ſpeaks chearfully.

Qu. God grant him health, did you confer with him?

Buc. I Madam, he deſires to make attonement,

Betweene the Duke of Glouſter, and your Brothers,
And betweene them, and my Lord Chamberlaine,
And ſent to warne them to his Royall prefence.

Qu. Would all were well, but that will neuer be,
Iſeare our happineſſe is at the height.

### Enter Rishard.

Rich. They do me wrong, and I will not indure it,
Who is it that complaines vnto the King,

That I (for ſooth) am ſterne, and loue them not?
By holy Paul, they loue his Grace but lightly,
That fill his eares with ſuch diffentious Rumors.

Because I cannot flatter, and looke faire,
Smile in mens faces, ſmooth, deceiue, and cogge,
Ducke with French nod's, and Apiph curteſie,
I muſt be held a rancorous Enemy.

Cannot a plaine man liue, and thinke no harme,
But thus his ſimple truth, muſt be abus'd,

With ſilken, flye, infinuating Tackes?

Grey. To who in all this prefence ſpeaks your Grace?

Rich. To thee, that haſt nor Honefly, nor Grace :
When haue I iniur'd thee? When done thee wrong?
Or thee? or thee? or any of your Faſtion?

A plague upon you all. His Royall Grace
(Whom God preferue better then you would with)
Cannot be quiet ſcarſe a breathing while,
But you muſt trouble him with lewd complaints.

Qu. Brother of Glouſter, you miſtake the matter:

The King on his owne Royall dispoſition,
(And not prouok'd by any Sutor eſſe)

That in your outward action ſhewes it ſelfe
Againſt my Children, Brothers, and my ſelfe,
Makes him to ſend, that he may learne the ground.

Rich. I cannot tell, the world is growne so bad,
That Wrens make prey, where Eagles dare not pearch.
Since euernie Iaeke became a Gentleman,
There's many a gentle person made a Iaeke.

Qu. Come, come, we know your meaning Brother
You enuy my aduancement, and my friends:
God grant we neuer may haue neede of you.

Rich. Meane time, God grants that I haue need of you.
Our Brother is imprifon'd by your meanes,

My ſelfe diſgrac'd, and the Nobilitie

Held in contempt, while great Promotions

Are daily giuen to enoble thole

That ſcarſe ſome two dayes ſince were worth a Noble.

Qu. By him that rais'd me to this careful height,
From that contented hap which I inioy'd,
I neuer did incenſe his Maieflie

Againſt the Duke of Clarence, but haue bin

An earneſt advocate to plead for him.

My Lord you do me ſhameſur iniurie,

Falfely to draw me in theſe vile ſuſpectes.

Rich. You may deny that you were not the meane
Of my Lord Haſlings late imprisonment.

Riu. She may my Lord, for—

Rich. She may Lord Riners, why who knowes not so?
She may do more fir then denying that:

She may helpe you to many faire preferments,

And then deny her ayding hand therein,

And lay thofe Honors on your high defert.

What may ſhe not, ſhe may, I marry ſhe.

Riu. What marry may ſhe?

Rich. What marrie may ſhe? Marrie with a King,
A Batcheller, and a handiome stripling too,
I wis your Grandam had a worſes match.

Qu. My Lord of Glouſter, I haue too long borne
Your blunt vpbraiding, and your bitter ſcoffes :
By hauen, I will acquaint his Maieflie
Of thofe groſſe taunts that oft I haue endur'd.

I had rather be a Countrie ſeruant maide
Then a great Queene, with this condition,
To be ſo baited, ſcorn'd, and ſtormed at,
Small ioy haue I in being Englands Queene.

### Enter old Queene Margaret.

Mar. And leſned be that small, God I beſeech him,
Thy honor, ſtate, and ſeate, is due to me.

Rich. What? threat you me with telling of the King?

I will auouch't in prefence of the King:

I dare aduenture to be ſent to th' Tower.

Tis time to ſpeake,

My paines are quite forgot.

Margaret. Our Diuell,

I do remember them too well:

Thou kill'd it my Husband Henri in the Tower,
And Edward my poore Son, at Tewkesburie.

Rich. Ere you were Queene,
I, or your Husband King :

I was a packe-horse in his great affaires :

A weeder out of his proud Aduerfaries,

A liberall rewarder of his Friends,

To royalize his blood, I ſpent mine owue.

Margaret. I and much better blood
Then his, or thine.

Rieb.

Rich. In all which time, you and your Husband G[reg]
Were factious, for the House of L[ancaster];
And R[ivers], so were you: Was not your Husband,
In M[argaret's] Battaille, at Saint A[lbons], flaine ?
Let me put in your mindes, if you forget
What you haue beene ere this, and what you are:
Withall, what I haue beene, and what I am.

Q. M. A murth'rous Villaine, and fo fill thou art.

Rich. Poore C[larrence] did forfake his Father W[arwicke],
I, and forfowre himselfe (which Iefu pardon.)
Q. M. Which God reuence.

Rich. To fight on Edwards partie, for the Crowne,
And for his meede, poore Lord, he is mewed vp:
I would to God my heart were Flint, like Edwards,
Or Edwards loft and pittifull, like mine;
I am too childish foolish for this World.

Q. M. High thee to Hell for shame, & leaue this World
Thou Cacodemon, there thy Kingdome is.

Riu. My Lord of Glofter: in those busie dayes,
Which here you vrge, to proue vs Enemies,
We follow'd then our Lord, our Soueraigne King,
So should we you, if you should be our King.

Rich. If I should be ? I had rather be a Pedler :
Farre be it from my heart, the thought thereof.

Qu. As little ioy (my Lord) as you suppole
You should enioy, were you this Countries King,
As little ioy you may suppofe in me,
That I enioy, being the Queene thereof.

Q. M. A little ioy enioyes the Queene thereof,
For I am fnee, and altogether ioyleſſe:
I ean no longer hold me patient.
Heare me, you wrangling Pyrates, that fall out,
In sharing that which you haue pill'd from me:
Which off you trembles not, that lookes on me?
If not, that I am Q[reene], you bow like Subieſts;
Yet that by you depos'd, you quake like Rebell[es].
Ah gentle Villaine, doe not turne away.

(fight?)

Rich. Foule wrinckled W[itch], what mak'ſt thou in my
Q. M. But repetition of what thou haſt marr'd,
That will I make, before I let thee goe.

Rich. Wert thou not banifhed, on paine of death?
Q. M. I was: but I doe find more paine in banifhment,
Then death can yeeld me here, by my abode.

A Husband and a Sonne thou ow't to me,
And thou a Kingdome; all of you, allegeance:
This Sorrow that I haue, by right is yours,
And all the Pleasures you vfurpe, are mine.

Rich. The Curſe my Noble Father layd on thee,
When thou didt Crown his Warlike Brows with Paper,
And with thy ſcornes drew't Riuers from his eyes,
And then to dry them, gauſt the Duke a Clowt,
Steep'd in the faultleſſe blood of prettie Rutland:
His Curſes then, from bitterneſſe of Soule,
Denounc'd againſt thee, are all falne vpon thee:
And God, not we, hath plagu'd thy bloody deed,

Q. U. So iuſt it is God, to right the innocent.

Haſt. O, it was the fouleſt deed to slay that Babe,
And the moſt merciſſe, that ere was heard of.

Riu. Tyrants themſelues wept when it was reported,

Dorſ. No man but prophecied reuence for it.

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

Q. M. What? were you ſnarning all before I came,
Ready to catch each other by the throat,
And turne you all your hatred now on me?

Did T[orkes] dread Curſe preuaiſe so much with Heauen,
That Henrſes death, my louely Edwards death,

Their Kingdomes loffe, my wofull Banifhment,
Should all but anſwer for that peuifu Brat ?
Can Curſes pierce the Clouds, and enter Heauen?
Why then giue way dull Clouds to my quick Curſe,
Though not by Warre, by Surſet dye your King,
As ours by Murther, to make him a King.

Edward thy Sonne, that now is Prince of Wales,
For Edward our Sonne, that was Prince of Wales,
Dye in his youth, by like vntimely violence.

Thy ſelfe a Queene, for me that was a Queene,
Out-lie thy glory, like my wretched ſelfe :

Long may't thou line, to wayle thy Childrens death,
And see another, as I see thee now,
Deck'd in thy Rights, as thou art ſtall'd in mine,
Long dye thy happie dayes, before thy death,
And after many length ned howres of griefe,
Dye neyther Mother, Wife, nor Englands Queene.

Rivers and Dorſet, you were ſtanders by,
And fo waſt thou, Lord H[astings], when my Sonne
Was ſtab'd with bloody Daggers: God, I pray him,
That none of you may liue his naturall age,
But by ſome vnlook'd accident cut off.

Rich. Haue done thy Charme, y' hateful wither'd H[aggt].

Q. M. And leaue out thee? flay Dog, for y' flath heareme.
If Heauen haue any grienous plague in ſtore,
Exceeding thofe that I can wifh vpon thee,
O let them keepe it, till thy finnes be ripe,
And then hurle downe their indignation
On thee, the troubler of the poore Worlds peace,
The Worme of Conſcience ſill begnaw thy Soule,
Thy Friends ſuſpect for Traytors while thou liuſt,
And take deepe Traytors for thy deareſt Friends:
No ſleepe cloſe vp that deadly Eye of thine,
Vnleſſe it be while ſome tormenting Dramee
Affrights thee with a Hell of oughy Deviills.
Thou eluifh mark'd, abortiue rooting Hogge,
Thou waſt ſeal'd in thy Nauitieitie
The ſlaue of Nature, and the Sonne of Hell:
Thou ſlander of thy heauie Mothers Wombe,
Thou loathed Iſſue of thy Fathers Loynes,
Thou Ragge of Honor, thou detested--

Rich. Margaret.

Q. M. Richard.

Rich. Ha.

Q. M. I call thee me.

Rich. I cry thee mercie then: for I did thinke,
That thou hadt call'd me all these bitter names.

Q. M. Why fo I did, but look'd for no reply.
Oh let me make the Period to my Curſe.

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

Q. U. Thus haue you breath'd your Curſe againſt your ſell.

Q. M. Poore painted Queen, vain flourish of my fortune,

Why ſtrew't thou Sugar on that Bottel'd Spider,
Whose deadly Web enſnareth thee about?

Fool[ee], fool[ee], thou whet'ſt a Knife to kill thy ſelfe:

The day will come, that thou ſhalt wifh for me,

To helpe thee eurſe this poyſonous Bunch-backt Toade,
Haſt. Fafle boding Woman, end thy frantick Curſe,
Leaſt to thy harme, thou moue our patience.

Q. M. Foule ſhame vpon you, you haue all mou'd mine

Ri. Were you no w[er] ſeru'd, you would be taught your duty?

Q. M. To ſerue me well, you all ſhould do me duty,
Teach me to be your Queene, and you my Subieſts:
O ſerue me well, and teach your ſelues that duty.

Dorſ. Dispute not with her, ſh[e]e is lunaticke.

Q. M. Peace, Maſter Marqueſſe, you are malapert,
Your fire-new ſtampe of Honor is ſcarce currant.

179

O that your young Nobility could judge
What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable.

They that stand high, haue manyrafts to shakethem,
And if they fall, they dafh themelues to peeces.

Rich. Good counfaile marry, learne it, learne it Mar-
quesse.

Dor. It touches you my Lord, as much as me.

Rich. I, and much more: but I was borne so high:

Our ayerie buildeth in the Cedars top,
And dallies with the winde, and fcornes the Sunne.

Mar. And turnes the Sun to fhade: alas, alas,
Witnesse my Sonne, now in the Shade of death,
Whose bright out-shining beames, thy cloudy wrath
Hath in eternall darkneſſe folded vp.

Your aery buildeth in our ayeries Neſt:

O God that feelt it, do not suffer it,

As it is wonne with blood, loſt be it so.

Buc. Peace, peace for ſhame: If not, for Charity.

Mar. Vrge neither charity, nor ſhame to me:

Vacharitably with me haue dealt,

And ſhamefully my hopes (by you) are butcher'd.

My Charity is outrage, Life my ſhame,

And in that ſhame, ſtill liue my forrowes rage.

Buc. Haue done, haue done.

Mar. O Princely Buckingham, Ile kiffe thy hand,

In figne of League and amity with thee:

Now faire beſtall thee, and thy Noble houſe:

Thy Garments are not ſpotted with our blood:

Nor thou within the compaſſe of my curſe.

Buc. Nor no one heere: for Curſes neuer paffe
The lips of thofe that breath them in the ayre.

Mar. I will not thinke but they ascend the sky,

And there awake Gods gentle ſleeping peace.

O Buckingham, take heede of yonder dogge:
Looke when he fawnes, he bites; and when he bites,
His venom tooth will rankle to the death.

Hauenot to do with him, beware of him,

Sinne, death, and hell haue ſet their markes on him,

And all their Minifters attend on him,

Rich. What doth ſhe ſay, my Lord of Buckingham.

Buc. Nothing that I reſpect my gracious Lord.

Mar. What doth thou ſcorne me

For my gentle counſell?

And tooth the diuell that I warne thee from.

O but remember this another day:

When he ſhall (split thy very heart with forrow:

And ſay (poore Margaret) was a Prophetefſe:

Lie each of you the ſubieſts to his hate,

And he to yours, and all of you to Gods.

Exit.

Buc. My haire doth stand an end to heare her curſes.

Riu. And ſo doth mine, I muſe why ſhe's at libertie.

Rich. I cannot blame her, by Gods holy mother,

She haeth had too much wrong, and I repent

My part thereof, that I haue done to her.

Mar. I neuer did her any to my knowledge.

Rich. Yet you haue 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 repayed:

He is frank'd vp to fatting for his paines,
God pardon them, that are the cauſe thereof.

Rich. A vertuous, and a Chriſtian-like conclusion

To pray for them that haue done ſcath to vs.

Rich. So do I euer, being well aduis'd.

Speakes to himselfe.

For had I curſt now, I had curſt my ſelfe.

### Enter Catesby.

Cates. Madam, his Maiely doth call for you,
And for your Grace, and yours my gracious Lord,

Qu. Catesby I come, Lords will you go with mee.

Riu. We wait vpon your Grace.

Excuse all but Gloſter.

Rich. I do the wrong, and firſt begin to brawle.

The ſecret Mischeefes that I ſet abroad,

I lay vnto the greuous charge of others.

Clarence, who I indeede haue caſt in darkneſſe,

I do beweep to many ſimple Gulles,

Namely to Derby, Haſlings, Buckingham,

And tell them 'is the Queene; and her Alies,

That fire the King againſt the Duke my Brother,

Now they belecue it, and withall whet me

To be reueng'd on Riuers, Dorſet, Grey.

But then I ſigh, and with a peecie of ſcripture,

Tell them that God bids vs do good for euill :

And thus I cloath my naked Villanie.

With odde old ends, ſtolne forth of holy Writ,

And ſceme a Saint, when moſt I play the deuill.

### Enter two furtherers.

But ſoft, heere come my Executioners,

How now my hardy ſlout refolued Mates,

Are you now going to dispatch this thing?

Vil. We are my Lord, and come to haue the Warrant,
That we may be admitted where he is.

Rich. Well thought vpon, I haue it heare about me:

When you haue done, repayre to Crosby place;

But firſs be ſodaine in the execution,

Withall obdurate, do not heare him pleade;

For Clarence is well ſpoken, and perhaps

May moue your hearts to pitty, if you marke him.

Vil. Tut, tut, my Lord, we will not ſtand to prate,

Talkers are no good dooers, be aſſur'd:

We go to vſe our hands, and not our tongues.

Rich. Your eyes drop Mill-stones, when Fooles eyes
fall Teares:

I like you Lads, about your businesſe ſtraight.

Go, go, dispatch.

Vil. We will my Noble Lord.

### Scena Quarta.

#### Enter Clarence and Keeper.

Keep. Why lookes your Grace so heauily to day.

Cla. O, I haue paſt a miſerable night,

So full of fearefull Dreames, of vgly ſights,

That as I am a Chriſtian faithfull man,

I would not ſpend another ſuch a night

Though 'twere to buy a world of happy daies:

So full of diſinall terror was the time.

Keep. What was your dream my Lord, I pray you tel me

Cla. Me thoughts that I had broken from the Tower,

And was embark'd to croſſe to Burgundy,

And in my company my Brother Gloſter,

Who from my Cabin tempted me to walke,

Vpon the Hatches: There we look'd toward England,

And cited vp a thousand heavy times,

During

12

180

During the warres of Yorke and Lancafter
That had befalne vs.As we pac'd along
Vpon the giddy footing of the Hatches,
Me thought that Gloufter flumbled,and in falling
Strooke me (that thought to stay him)ouer-boord,
Into the tumbling billowes of the maine.
O Lord, me thought what paine it was to drowne,
What dreadfull noife of water in mine eares,
What fightes of vgly death within mine eyes.
Me thoughts, I faw a thoufand fearfull wrackes:
A thoufand men that Fiftles gnaw'd vpon:
Wedges of Gold,great Anchors, heapes of Pearle,
Ineflimal Stones, vnvalewed Jewels,
All ſcattred in the bottome of the Sea,
Somely in dead-mens Sculles, and in the holes
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept
(As 'twere in ſcorne of eyes) reflecting Gemmes,
That woo'd the flimy bottome of the deepe,
And mock'd the dead bones that lay ſcattred by.

Keep. Had you fuch leyſure in the time of death
To gaze vpon theſe ſecrets of the deepe?
Cla. Me thought I had, and often did I ſtrike
To yeeld the Ghoſt: but full the enuious Flood
Stop'd in my ſoule, and would not let it forth
To find the empty, vaſt, and wand'ring ayre?
But ſmother'd it within my panting bulker
Who almoſt burſt, to belch it in the Sea.

Keep. Awak'd you not in this fore Agony?

Clar. No, no, my Dreame was lengthen'd after life.
O then, began the Tempeſt to my Soule.
I paſt (me thought) the Melancholly Flood,
With that ſowre Ferry-man which Poets write of,
Vnto the Kingdome of perpetuall Night.
The first that there did greet the Stranger-ſoule,
Was my great Father-in-Law, renowned Warwicke,
Who ſpake alowd: What ſcourge for Periurie,
Can this darke Monarchy afford falſe Clarence?
And so he vanifh'd. Then came wand'ring by,
A Shadow like an Angell, with bright hayre
Dabbel'd in blood, and he ſhriek'd out alowd
Clarence is come, falſe, fleeting,periur'd Clarence,
That ſtabb'd me in the field by Tewkesbury:
Seize on him Furies, take him vnto Torment.
With that (me thought) a Legion of ſoule Fiends
Inuiron'd me, and howled in mine eares
Such hiddeous cries, that with the very Noife,
I (trembling) wak'd, and for a ſeafon after,
Could not believeue, but that I was in Hell,
Such terrible Imprefſion made my Dreame.

Keep. No maruell Lord, though it affrighted you,
I am affraid (me thinkes) to heare you tell it.

Cla. Ah Keeper, Keeper, I haue done theſe things
(That now) giue evidence against my Soule)
For Edwards ſake, and fee how he requits mee.
O God! if my deepe prayres cannot appeaſe thee,
But thou wilt be aueng'd on my miſdeeds,
Yet execute thy wrath in me alone :
O spare my guiltlesſe Wife, and my poore children,
Keeper, I prythee ſit by me a-while,
My Soule is heavy, and I faine would ſleepe.

Keep. I will my Bond, God giue your Grace good rest.

Enter Brakenbury the Lieutenant.

Bra. Sorrow breaks Seaſons, and reſping honres,
Makes the Night Morning, and the Noon-tide night:

Princes haue but their Titles for their Glories,
An outward Honor, for an inward Toyle,
And for vnfelt Imaginations
They often ſeele a world of restlesſe Cares :
So that betweene their Titles, and low Name,
There's nothing differs, but the outward fame.

Enter two Murtherers.

I. Mur. Ho, who's heere?

Bra. What would it thou Fellow? And how can it
thou hither.

2. Mur. I would ſpeak with Clarence, and I came hither on my Legges.

Bra. What to Breeſe?

1. 'Tis better (Sir) then to be tedious:
Let him fee our Commission, and talke no more.

Reads

Bra. I am in this, commanded to deliver
The Noble Duke of Clarence to your hands.
I will not reaſon what is meant heereby,
Becaufe I will be guiltlesſe from the meaning.
There lies the Duke a ſleepe, and there the Keyes,
Ile to the King, and ſigniſc to him,
That thus I haue reſign'd to you my charge.

Exits.

1 You may fir, 'tis a point of wifedome:
Far you well.

2 What, ſhall we ſtab him as he ſleepes.

1 No: hee'l ſay 'twas done cowardly, when he wak'd.

2 Why he ſhall neuer wake, vntill the great judgment day.

1 Why then hee'l ſay, we ſtab'd him ſleeping.

2 The vrging of that word Iudgement, hath broke
kinde of remorſe in me.

1 What? art thou affraid?

2 Not to kill him, hauing a Warrant,
But to be damn'd for killing him, from the which
No Warrant can defend me.

1 I thought thou had't ſit bin refolute.

2 So I am, to let him liue.

1 Ile backe to the Duke of Glouſter, and tell him ſo.

2 Nay, I prythee ſtay a little :

I hope this paffionate humor of mine, will change,
It was wont to hold me but while one tells twenty,

1 How doſt thou ſeele thy ſelſe now?

2 Some certaine dregges of conſience are yet wu
in mee.

1 Remember our Reward, when the deed's done.

2 Come, he dies: I had forgot the Reward.

1 Where's thy conſience now.

2 O, in the Duke of Glouſters purſe.

1 When hee opens his purſe to giue vs our Reward,
thy Conſience flyes out.

2 'Tis no matter, let it goe : There's few or none will
entertaine it.

1 What if it come to thee againe?

2 Ile not meddle with it, it makes a man a Coward:
A man cannot ſteal, but it accuſeth him: A man cannot
Sweare, but it Checkes him: A man cannot lye with his
Neighbours Wife, but it defects him. 'Tis a blubbing
Shameſac'd ſpirit, that mutinies in a man's boſome : It
filles a man full of Obſtacles. It made me once reſore
Purſſe of Gold that (by chance) I found: It beggars any
man that keeps it: It is turn'd out of Townes and Cities
for a dangerous thing, and every man that means to
lie well, endeouurs to truſt to himſelfe, and lie with
out it.

1 Tis

181

1 'Tis even now at my elbow, perfusing me not to kill the Dkue.

2 Take the diuell in thy minde, and becule him not: He would infiuinate with thee but to make thee fight.

1 I am strong fram'd, he cannot preuale with me.

2 Spoke like a tall man, that respects thy reputation. Come, shall we fall to worke?

1 Take him on the Coastard, with the hiltes of thy Sword, and then throw him into the Malmeley-Butte in the next roome.

2 O excellent deuice; and make a fop of him.

1 Soft, he wakes.

2 Strike.

1 No, wee'l reaſon with him.

Cla. Where art thou Keeper? Giue me a cup of wine.

2 You shall haue Wine enough my Lord anon.

Cla. In Gods name, what art thou?

1 A man, as you are.

Cla. But not as I am Royall,

1 Nor you as we are, Loyall.

Cla. Thy voice is Thunder, but thy looks are humble.

1 My voice is now the Kings, my lookses mine owne.

Cla. How darkly, and how deadly doſt thou ſpeake?

Your eyes do menace me: why looke you pale?

Who ſent you bither? Wherefore do you come?

2 To, to, to—

Cla. To murther me?

Both. I, I.

Cla. You ſcarſely haue the hearts to tell me so,
And therefore cannot haue the hearts to do it.
Wherein my Friends haue I offended you?

1 Offended vs you haue not, but the King.
Cla. I ſhall be reconciled to him againe.

2 Neuer my Lord, therefore prepare to dye.

Cla. Are you drawne forth among a world of men

To ſlay the innocent? What is my offence?

Where is the Euidence that doth accuſe me?

What lawfull Queſt haue giuen their Verdict vp

Vnto the frowning Iudge? Or who pronounc'd

The bitter ſentence of poore Clarence death,
Before I be conuicct by course of Law?

To threaten me with death, is moſt vnlawfull.

I charge you, as you hope for any goodneſſe,

That you depart, and lay no hands on me:

The deed you vndertake is damnable.

1 What we will do, we do vpon command.

2 And he that hath commanded, is our King.

Cla. Erroneous Vafſals, the great King of Kings
Hath in the Table of his Law commanded
That thou haſt do no murther. Will you then
Spurne at his Edict, and fulfill a Mans?

Take ſeed: for he holds Vengeance in his hand,

To hurle upon their heads that breake his Law.

2 And that fame Vengeance doth he hurle on thee,
For ſalſe Forſwearing, and for murther too:
Thou didt receiue the Sacrament, to fight
In quarrell of the Houſe of Lancaſter.

1 And like a Traitor to the name of God,
Did't breake that Vow, and with thy treacherous blade,
Vrip't the Bowels of thy Sou'raignes Sonne.

2 Whom thou was't (worne to cheriſh and defend.

1 How can't you vrage Gods dreadfull Law to vs,
When thou haſt broke it in ſuch deere degree?

Cla. Alas! for whole ſake did I that ill deede?
For Edward, for my Brother, for his ſake.
He ſends you not to murther me for this:

For in that finne, he is as deepc as I.

If God will be auenged for the deed,

O know you yet, he doth it publiquely,

Take not the quarrell from his powrefull armes.

He needs no indirect, or lawleſſe courſe,

To cut off thate that haue offended him.

1 Who made thee then a bloody minifter,

When gallant ſpringing braue Plantagenet,

That Princely Nouice was strucke dead by thee?

Cla. My Brothers loue, the Diuell, and my Rage.

1 Thy Brothers Loue, our Duty, and our Faults,
Prouoke vs hither now, to ſlaughter thee.

Cla. If you do loue my Brother, hate not me:
I am his Brother, and I loue him well.

If you are hyr'd for meed, go backe againe,

And I will ſend you to my Brother Glouſter:

Who shall reward you better for my life,

Then Edward will for tydings of my death.

2 You are decci'u'd,

Your Brother Glouſter hates you.

Cla. Oh no, he loues me, and he holds me deere:
Go you to him from me.

1 I ſo we will.

Cla. Tell him, when that our Princely Father Yorke,
Bleſt his three Sonnes with his victerious Armes,
He little thought of this diuided Friendſhip:
Bid Glouſter thinke on this, and he will weepe.

1 I Milſtones, as he leſoned vs to weepe.

Cla. O do not flander him, for he is kinder.

1 Right, as Snow in Harneſt:

Come, you deceive your ſelfe,

'Tis he that ſends vs to deſtroy you heere.

Cla. It cannot be, for he bewept my Fortune,
And hugg'd me in his armes, and I wore with ſobs,
That he would labour my deliuerie.

1 Why so he doth, when he deliuer's you

From this earthy thraldome, to the ioyes of heauen.

2 Make peace with God, for you muſt die my Lord.

Cla. Haue you that holy feeling in your ſoules,
To counſaile me to make my peace with God,
And are you yet to your owne ſoules ſo blinde,
That you will warre with God, by murd'ring me.

O firſs consider, they that fet you on

To do this deede, will hate you for the deede.

2 What shall we do?

Clar. Relent, and ſaue your ſoules:

Which of you, if you were a Princes Sonne,

Being pent from Liberty, as I am now,

If two ſuch murtherers as your ſelues came to you,

Would not intreat for life, as you would begge

Were you in my diſtrefle.

1 Relent? no: 'Tis cowardly and womaniſh.

Cla. Not to relent, is beaſtly, ſaunge, diuellilſh:
My Friend, I spy ſome pitty in thy lookes:

O, if thine eye be not a Flatterer,

Come thou on my ſide, and intreate for me,

A begging Prince, what begger pitties not.

2 Looke behind you, my Lord.

1 Take that, and that, if all this will not do, Stabs him.
He drowne you in the Malmeley-But within.

2 A bloody deed, and desperately diſpatcht:

How ſaine (like Pilate) would I wath my hands.

Of this moſt greeuous murther.

Enter 1. Murtherer

1 How now? what mean't thou that thou help't me
not? By Heauen the Duke shall know how flacke you
haue beene.

13

2 I

2. *Mur.* I would he knew that I had fau'd his brother,
Take thou the Fee, and tell him what I lay,
For I repent me that the Duke is flaine.
*Exit.*

1. *Mr.* So do not I: go Coward as thou art.
Well, Ile go hide the body in fome hole,
Till that the Duke giue order for his buriall:
And when I haue my meede, I will away,
For this will out, and then I muft not stay.
*Exit.*

*Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.*

*Flourish.*
Enter the King fique, the Queene, Lord Marquiffes
Dorſet, Riuers, Haſtings. Catesby,
Buckingham, Woodnill.

*King.* Why fo: now haue I done a good daies work.
You Peeres, continue this vnited League:
I, every day expect an Embaſſage
From my Redeemer, to redeeme me hence.
And more to peace my foule ſhall part to heauen,
Since I haue made my Friends at peace on earth.
Dorſet and Riuers, take each others hand,
Difſtlemble not your hatred, Sweare your loue.

*Kin.* By heauen, my foule is purg'd from grudging hate
And with my hand I feale my true hearts Loue.

*Haſt.* So thrive I, as I truly ſweare the like.

*King.* Take heed you daily not before your King,
Left he that is the ſupreme King of Kings.

Confound your hidden falſhood, and award
Either of you to be the others end.

*Haſt.* So proper I, as I ſweare perſect loue.

*Ri.* And I, as I loue Haſtings with my heart,

*King.* Madam, your ſelfe is not exempte from this:
Nor you Sonne Dorſet, Buckingham nor you;
You haue bene faſtious one againſt the other.
Wife, loue Lord Haſtings, let him kiffie your hand,
And what you do, do it vnſeignedly.

*Qu.* There Haſtings, I will neuer more remember
Our former hatred, fo thrive I, and mine.

*King.* Dorſet, imbrace him:

Haſtings, loue Lord Marquſe.

*Dor.* This interchange of loue, I heere protest
Vpon my part, ſhall be inuiolable.

*Haſt.* And ſo ſweare I.

*King.* Now Princely Buckingham, ſeleſ this league
With thy embracements to my wives Allies,
And make me happy in your vnity.

*Bus.* When euer Buckingham doth turne his hate
Vpon your Grace, but with all dutious loue,
Doth cheriſh you, and yours, God puniſh me
With hate in thofe where I expeſt moſt loue,
When I haue moſt need to imploy a Friend,
And moſt affured that he is a Friend,
Deepe, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile,
Be he vto me: This do I begge of heauen,
When I am cold in loue, to you, or yours.

*Embrace*

*King.* A pleafing Cordiall, Princely Buckingham.
Is this thy Vow, vnto my ſickely heart:
There wanteth now our Brother Glofter heere,
To make the bleſſed period of this peace.

*Bus.* And in good time,
Heere comes Sir Richard Ratcliffe, and the Duke.

*Enter Ratcliffe, and Glofter.*

*Rich.* Good morrow to my Soueraigne King & Queen
And Princely Peeres, a happy time of day.

*King.* Happy indeed, as we haue ſpent the day:
Glofter, we haue done deeds of Charity,
Made peace of enmity, faire loue of hate,
Betweene these ſwelling wrong incenſed Peeres.

*Rich.* A bleſſed labour my moſt Soueraigne Lord:
Among this Princely heape, if any heere
By ſalſe intelligence; or wrong ſurmize
Hold me a Foe: If I vnwillingly, or in my rage,
Hae ought committed that is hardly borne,
To 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 mens loue,
First Madam, I intreate true peace of you,
Which I will purchase with my dutious ſeruice.
Of you my Noble Colin Buckingham,
If euer any grudge were lodg'd betweene vs.
Of you and you, Lord Riuers and of Dorſet,
That all without deſert haue frown'd on me:
Of you Lord Woodnill, and Lord Scales of you,
Dukes, Earles, Lords, Gentlemen, indeed of all,
I do not know that Englishman aline,
With whom my ſoule is any iot at oddes,
More then the Infant that is borne to night:
I thanke my God for my Humility.

*Qu.* A holy day ſhall this be kept hereafter:
I would to God all ſtrifes were well compounded,
My Soueraigne Lord, I do beſeech your Highneſſe
To take our Brother Clarence to your Grace,

*Rich.* Why Madam, haue I offred loue for this,
To be ſo flowted in this Royall preſence?
Who knowes not that the gentle Duke is dead?
You do him iniurie to ſcorne his Coarſe.

*King.* Who knowes not he is dead?
Who knowes he is?

*Qu.* All-ſeeing heauen, what a world is this?

*Bus.* Looke I ſo pale Lord Dorſet, as the reſt?

*Dor.* I my good Lord, and no man in the preſence,
But his red colour hath forſooke his cheeks.

*King.* Is Clarence dead? The Order was reuerſt.

*Rich.* But he (poore man) by your firſt order dyed,
And that a winged Mercurie did beare:
Some tardie Cripple bare the Countermand,
That came too lagge to fee him buried.
God grant, that ſome ſele Noble, and ſele Loyal,
Neerer in bloody thoughts, and not in blood,
Deferue not worſe then wretched Clarence did,
And yet go currant from Suſpition.

*Enter Earle of Derby.*

*Der.* A boone my Soueraigne for my ſeruice done,
King. I prethee peace, my ſoule is full of ſorrow.

*Der.* I will not rife, vnleſſe your Highnes heare me,
King. Then ſay at once, what is it thou requeſts.

*Der.* The forfeit (Soueraigne) of my ſeruants life,
Who flew to day a Riotous Gentleman,
Lately attendant on the Duke of Norſtolke.

*King.* Haue I a tongue to doome my Brothers death
And ſhall that tongue giue pardon to a ſlaue?
My Brother kill'd no man, his fault was Thought,
And yet his puniſhment was bitter death.

Who

183

Who fued to me for him ? Who (in my wrath)
Kneel'd and my feet, and bid me be aduis'd?
Who spoke ot Brother-hood? who spoke of loue?
Who told me how the poore Soule did forfake
The mighty Warwicke, and did fight for me?
Who told me in the field at Tewkesbury,
When Oxford had me downe, he refcued me:
And said deare Brother line, and be a King ?
Who told me, when we both lay in the Field,
Frozen(almoſt) to death, how he did lap me
Euen in his Garments, and did giue himſelfe
(All thin and naked) to the numbe cold night?
All this from my Remembrance, brutiſh wrath
Sinfully pluckt, and not a man of you
Had ſo much grace to put it in my minde.
But when your Carters, or your wayting Vaffalls
Hae done a drunken Slaughier, and defac'd
The precious Image of our deere Redeemer,
You fraight are on your knees for Pardon, pardon,
And I (vniftly too) muſt grant it you.
But for my Brother, not a man would ſpeake,
Nor I (vngracious) ſpeake vnto my ſelfe
For him poore Soule. The proudeſt of you all,
Hae bin beholding to him in his life :
Yet none of you, would onze begge for his life.
O God! I feare thy iuſtice will take hold
On me, and you; and mine, and yours for this.
Come Haſlings helpe me to my Cloſer.
Ah poore Clarence. Exeunt some with K. & Queen.

Rich. This is the fruits of rafhnes: Markt you not,
How that the guilty Kindred of the Queene
Look'd pale, when they did heare of Clarence death.
Of they did vrge it full vnto the King,
God will reuenge it. Come Lords will you go,
To comfort Edward with our company.

Buc. We wait vpon your Grace.

exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter the old Dreschſe of Yorke, with the two children of Clarence.

Edw. Good Grandam tell vs, is our Father dead ?

Dutch. No Boy.

Daugh. Why do weepe ſo oft? And beate your Breſt?

And cry, O Clarence, my vnhappy Sonne.

Boy. Why do you looke on vs, and ſhake your head,
And call vs Orphans, Wretches, Caſtawayes,
If that our Noble Father were aline ?

Dut. My pretty Cofins, you miſtake me both,
I do lament the ſickneſſe of the King,
As loath to loſe him, not your Fathers death:
It were loſt forrow to waile one that's loſt.

Boy. Then you conclude, (my Grandam) he is dead:
The King mine Vnkle is too blame for it.
God will reuenge it, whom I will importune
With earneſt prayers, all to that effect.

Daugh. And so will I.

Dut. Peace children peace, the King doth loue you well.
Incapable, and ſhallow Innocents,
You cannot gueſſe who caus'd your Fathers death.

Boy. Grandam we can: for my good Vnkle Gloſter

Told me, the King prouok'd to it by the Queene,
Deuis'd impeachments to imprifon him;
And when my Vnkle told me ſo, he wept,
And pittied me, and kindly kift my cheeke:
Bad me rely on him, as on my Father,
And he would loue me deerely as a childe.

Dut. Ah! that Deceit ſhould ſteale ſuch gentle ſhape,
And with a vertuous Vizor hide deepe vice.

He is my ſonne, I, and therein my ſhame,
Yet from my dugges, he drew not this deceit.

Boy. Thinke you my Vnkle did diſſemble Grandam?

Dut. I Boy.

Boy. I cannot thinke it. Hearke, what noſe is this?

Enter the Queene with her haire about her ears,
Riners & Dorſet after her.

Qu. Ah! who ſhall hinder me to waile and weepe?
To chide my Fortune, and torment my ſelfe.
Ile ioyne with blacke diſpaire againſt my Soule,
And to my ſelfe, become an enemie.

Dut. What means this Scene of rude impatience ?

Qu. To make an act of Tragicke violence.

Edward my Lord, thy ſonne, our King is dead.
Why grow the Branches, when the Rooce is gone?
Why wither not the leaues that want their ſap ?
If you will line, Lament : if dye, be breeſe,
That our Swift-winged Soules may catch the Kings,
Or like obedient Subieſts follow him,
To his new Kingdome of nere-changing night.

Dut. Ah ſo much intereſt haue in thy forrow,
As I had Title in thy Noble Husband :
Ihaue bewept a worthy Husbands death,
And liu'd with looking on his Images:
But now two Mirrors of his Princely ſembance,
Are crack'd in pieces, by malignant death,
And I for comfort, haue but one ſale Glaffe,
That greeues me, when I ſee my ſhame in him.
Thou art a Widdow: yet thou art a Mother,
And haſt the comfort of thy Children left,
But death hath ſnatch'd my Husband from mine Armes,
And pluckt two Crutches from my feeble hands,
Clarence, and Edward. O, what cauſe haue I,
(Thine being but a moity of my moane)
To ouer-go thy woes, and drowne thy crieſt.

Boy. Ah Aunt! you wept not for our Fathers death:
How can we ayde you with our Kindred teares ?
Daugh. Our fatherleſſe diſtrefſe was left vnmoan'd,
Your widdow-dolour, likewise be vnwept.

Qu. Giue me no helpe in Lamentation,
I am not barren to bring forth complaints:
All Springs reduce their currents to mine eyes,
That I being gouern'd by the waterie Moone,
May ſend forth plenteous teares to drowne the World.

Ah, for my Husband, for my deere Lord Edward.

Chil. Ah for our Father, for our deere Lord Clarence.

Dut. Alas for both, both mine Edward and Clarence.

Qu. What ſtay had I but Edward, and hee's gone?

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

Dut. What ſtayes had I, but they ? and they are gone.

Qu. Was neuer widdow had ſo deere a loſſe.

Chil. Were neuer Orphans had ſo deere a loſſe.

Dut. Was neuer Mother had ſo deere a loſſe.

Alas! I am the Mother of theſe Greeſes,
Their woes are parcell'd, mine is generall.

She for an Edward weepes, and ſo do I :

184

I for a Clarence weepes, so doth not fhee:

These Babes for Clarence weepe, so do not they.

Alas! you three, on me threefold diftrest:

Power all your teares, I am your forrowes Nurfe,

And I will pamper it with Lamentation.

Dor. Comfort deere Mother, God is much displeas'd,

That you take with vnthankfulnesse his doing.

In common worldly things, 'tis call'd vngratefull,

With dull vnwillingnesse to repay a debt,

Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent :

Much more to be thus oppofite with heauen,

For it requires the Royall debt it lent you.

Riners. Madam, bethinke you like a careful Mother
Of the young Prince your fonne: fend ftraight for him,
Let him be Crown'd, in him your comfort lives.
Drowne desperate sorrow in dead Edwards graue,
And plant your ioyes in liuing Edwards Throne.

Enter Richard, Buckingham, Derbie, Haffings, and Ratcliffe.

Rich. Sifter haue comfort, all of vs haue caufe
To waile the dimming of our shining Starre :

But none can helpe our harmes by wayling them.

Madam, my Mother, I do cry you mercie,
I did not fee your Grace. Humbly on my knee,
I craue your Blessing.

Dut. God bleffeth thee, and put meeknes in thy breaf,
Loue Charity, Obedience, and true Dutie.

Rich. Amen, and make me die a good old man,
That is the butt-end of a Mothers bleffing ;
I maruell that her Grace did leaue it out.

Eue. You clowdy-Princes, & hart-forowing-Peeres,
That beare this heauie mutuall loade of Moane,
Now cheere each other, in each others Loue:
Though we haue spent our Harueft of this King,
We are to reape the Harueft of his Sonne.
The broken rancour of your high-swolne hates,
But lately splinter'd, knit, and ioyn'd together,
Must gently be prefer'd, cherifht, and kept :
Me feemeth good, that with some little Traine,
Forthwith from Ludlow, the young Prince be fet
Hither to London, to be crown'd our King.

Riders. Why with some little Traine,
My Lord of Buckingham?

Bnc. Marrie my Lord, leaft by a multitude,
The new-heal'd wound of Malice should breake out,
Which would be so much the more dangerous,
By how much the eftate is greene, and yet vagouern'd.
Where euery Horfe beares his commanding Reine,
And may direct his course as pleafe himselfe,
As well the feare of harme, as harme apparant,
In my opinion, ought to be prevented.

Rich. I hope the King made peace with all of vs,
And the compact is firme, and true in me.

Rim. And so in me, and so (I thinke) in all,
Yet ſince it is but greene, it should be put
To no apparent likely-hood of breach,
Which haply by much company might be vrg'd :
Therefore I ſay with Noble Buckingham,
That it is meete ſo ſew should fetch the Prince.

Haſt. And so ſay I.

Rieh. Then be it ſo, and go we to determine
Who they ſhall be that ſtrait ſhall poffe to London.
Madam, and you my Sifter, will you go
To giue your censures in this bufineſſe.

Exeunt.

Manet Buckingham, and Richard.

Bnc. My Lord, who euern iournies to the Prince,
For God ſake let not vs two ſlay at home :

For by the way, Ile forrt occafion,
As Index to the ſtory we late talk'd of,

To part the Queenes proud Kindred from the Prince.

Rich. My other ſelfe, my Counſailes Conſituyt,
My Oracle, My Prophet, my deere Cofin,

I, as a childe, will go by thy direction,

Toward London then, for wee'l not ſtay behinde. Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter one Citizen at one door, and another at
the other.

1. Cit. Good morrow Neighbour, whether away to
faſt?

2. Cit. I promise you, I ſcarſely know my ſelfe:
Heare you the newes abroad?

1. Yes, that the King is dead.

2. Ill newes byrlady, ſeldome comes the better:
I ſeare, I ſeare, 'twill proue a giddy world.

Enter another Citizen.

3. Neighbours, God ſpeed.

1. Giue you good morrow ſir.

3. Doth the newes hold of good king Edwards death?

2. I ſir, it is too true, God helpe the while.

3. Then Maſters looke to fee a troublous world.

1. No, no, by Gods good grace, his Son shall reigne.

3. Woe to that Land that's gouern'd by a Childe.

2. In him there is a hope of Gouernment,
Which in his nonage, counſell vnder him,
And in his full and ripen'd yeares, himselfe
No doubt ſhall then, and till then gouerne well.

1. So ſtood the State, when Henry the fixt
Was crown'd in Paris, but at nine months old.

3. Stood the State ſo? No, no, good friends, God wea
For then this Land was famouſly enrich'd
With politike graue Counſell; then the King
Had vertuous Vnklees to proteſt his Grace.

1. Why ſo hath this, both by his Father and Mother.

3. Better it were they all came by his Father:

Or by his Father there were none at all :
For emulation, who ſhall now be neereft,

Will touch vs all too neere, if God preuent not.

Of full of danger is the Duke of Glouſter,

And the Queenes Sons, and Brothers, haught and proud:
And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule,
This ſickly Land, might ſolace as before.

1. Come, come, we ſeare the worst : all will be well.

3. When Clouds are ſeen, wifemen put on their cloaths
When great leaues fall, then Winter is at hand :
When the Sun fets, who doth not ſooke for night?

Vntimely ſtormes, makes men expeſt a Dearth :
All may be well; but if God ſor it ſo,
'Tis more then we deferue, or I expeſt.

2. Truly, the hearts of men are full of ſeare:
You cannot reaſon (almoſt) with a man,
That lookes not heauily, and full of dread.

3. Before the dayes of Change, full is it ſo,
By a diuine inſtinſt, mens mindeſes miſtruſt

Enſuing

Purfuing danger : as by proofe we fee
The Water swell before a boyſt'rous ſtorme :
But leaue it all to God. Whither away?

2. Marry we were ſent for to the Iuſtices.

3. And so was I: Ile beare you company.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Arch-bishop, young Yorke, the Queene,
and the Dutchefle.

Arch. Laſt night I heard they lay at Stony Stratford,
And at Northampton they do reſt to night :
Tomorrow, or next day, they will be heere.

Dut. I long with all my heart to fee the Prince:
I hope he is much growne ſince laſt I faw him.

Qu. But I heare no, they ſay my ſonne of Yorke
Ha's almoſt ouertane him in his growth.

Yorke. I Mother, but I would not haue it ſo.

Dut. Why my good Cofin, it is good to grow.

Tor. Grandam, one night as we did fit at Supper,
My Vnkle Riuers talk'd how I did grow
More then my Brother. I, quoth my Vnkle Glouſter,
Small Herbes haue grace, great Weeds do grow apace.
And ſince, me thinkes I would not grow ſo ſaſt,
Because ſweet Flowres are flow, and Weeds make haſt.

Dut. Good faith, good faith, the ſaying did not hold
In him that did obſeet the fame to thee.
He was the wretched ſt thing when he was yong,
Solong a growing, and ſo leyſurely,
That if his rule were true, he should be gracious,

Tor. And ſo no doubt he is, my gracious Madam.

Dut. I hope he is, but yet let Mothers doubt.

Tor. Now by my troth, if I had beene remembred,
I could haue giuen my Vnkles Grace, a ſlout,
To touch his growth, neerer then he toucht mine.

Dut. How my yong Yorke,
I prythee let me heare it.

Tor. Marry (they ſay) my Vnkle grew ſo ſaſt,
That he could gnaſ a cruſt at two hours old,
Twas full two yeares ere I could get a tooth.

Grandam, this would haue beene a byting Ieſt.

Dut. I prythee pretty Yorke, who told thee this?

Tor. Grandam, his Nurſſe.

Dut. His Nurſe? why ſhe was dead, ere ſwaſt borne.

Tor. If't were not the, I cannot tell who told me.

Qu. A parlous Boy: go too, you are too ſhrew'd.

Dut. Good Madam, be not angry with the Childe.

Qu. Pitchers haue eares.

Enter a Meſſenger.

Arch. Heere comes a Meſſenger: What Newes?

Mef. Such newes my Lord, as greeues me to report.

Qu. How doth the Prince ?

Mef. Well Madam, and in health.

Dut. What is thy Newes?

Diefſ. Lord Riuers, and Lord Grëy,
Are ſent to Pomfret, and with them,
Sir Thomas Vauſhan, Prisoners.

Dut. Who hath committed them?

Mef. The mighty Dukes, Glouſter and Buckinghams.

Arch. For what offence?

Mef. The ſumme of all I can, I haue diſcloſ'd:
Why, or for what, the Nobles were committed,
Is all vnknowne to me, my gracious Lord.

Qu. Aye me! I fee the ruine of my Houſe:
The Tyger now hath ſeiz'd the gentle Hinde,
Inſulting Tiranny begins to lutt
Vpon the innocent and aweleſſe THRONE:
Welcome Deſtruſtion, Blood, and Maſſacre,
I fee (as in a Map) the end of all.

Dut. Accurſed, and vnquiet wrangling dayes,
How many of you haue mine eyes beheld?
My Husband loſt his life, to get the Crowne,
And often vp and downe my ſonnes were toſt
For me to ioy, and weepe, their gaine and toſſe.
And being feated, and Domeſticke broyles
Cleane ouer-blowne, themſelues the Conquerors,
Make warre vpon themſelues, Brother to Brother:
Blood to blood, ſelfe againſt ſelfe: O prepoſtorous
And franticke outrage, end thy damned pleſe,
Or let me dye, to looke on earth no more.

Qu. Come, come my Boy, we will to Sanctuary,
Madam, farwell.

Dut. Stay, I will go with you.

Qu. You haue no cauſe.

Arch. My gracious Lady go,
And thether beare your Treſure and your Goodes,
For my part, Ile reſigne vnto your Grace
The Seale I keepe, and ſo betide to me,
As well I tender you, and all of yours.

Go, Ile conduct you to the Sanctuary.

Exeunt

## Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima.

The Trumpets found,
Enter young Prince, the Dukes of Gloſeſter, and Euckingham,
Lord Cardinall, with others.

Buc. Welcome ſweete Prince to London,
To your Chamber.

Rich. Welcome deere Cofin, my thoughts Soueraign
The wearie way hath made you Melancholly.

Prin. No Vnkle, but our croſſes on the way,
Hauſe made it tedious, weariſome, and heauie.
I want more Vnkles heere to welcome me.

Rich. Sweet Prince, the vntainted vertue of your yeers
Hath not yet diu'd into the Worlds deceit:
No more can you diſlinguifh of a man,
Then of his outward ſhew, which God he knowes,

Seldome or neuer iumpeth with the heart.
Thofe Vnkles which you want, were dangerous:

Your Grace attended to their Sugred words,
But look'd not on the poyſon of their hearts:

God keepe you from them, and from such ſalſe Friends,

Prin. God keepe me from ſalſe Friends,
But they were none.

Rich. My Lord, the Maior of London comes to greet
you.

Enter Lord Maior.

Lo. Maior. God bleſſe your Grace, with health and
happie dayes.

Prin. I thanke you, good my Lord, and thank you all:

187

Yorke. What, will you goe vnto the Tower, my Lord?
Prince. My Lord, Protec'tor will haue it so.
Yorke. I shall not sleepe in quiet at the Tower.
Glo. Why, what should you feare?
Yorke. Marry, my Vnckle Clarence angry Ghoft :
My Grandam told me he was murther'd there.
Prince. I feare no Vnckles dead.
Glo. Nor none that liue, I hope.
Prince. And if they liue, I hope I need not feare.
But come my Lord : and with a heauie heart,
Thinking on them, goe I vnto the Tower.
A Senet. Exaunt Prince, Yorke, Hastings, and Dorset.

Manet Richard, Buckingham, and Catesby.

Buck. Thinke you, my Lord, this little prating Yorke
Was not incensed by his subtile Mother,
To taunt and fcorne you thus opprobriously ?
Glo. No doubt, no doubt : Oh'tis a perillous Boy,
Bold, quicke, ingenious, forward, capable :
Hee is all the Mothers, from the top to toe.
Buck. Well, let them rest: Come hither Catesby,
Thou art fworne as deeply to effect what we intend,
As closely to conceal what we impart :
Thou know'th our reafons vrg'd vpon the way.
What think't thou ? is it not an easie matter,
To make William Lord Hastings of our minde,
For the infallment of this Noble Duke
In the Seat Royall of this famous Ile?

Cates. He for his fathers fake so loues the Prince,
That he will not be wonne to ought against him.
What think't thou then of Stanley ? Will
not hee ?

Cates. Hee will doe all in all as Hastings doth.

Buck. Well then, no more but this :

Goe gentle Catesby, and as it were farre off,
Sound thou Lord Hastings,
How he doth stand affected to our purpofe,
And summon him to morrow to the Tower,
To fit about the Coronation.

If thou do't find him tractable to vs,
Encourage him, and tell him all our reafons :
If he be leaden, ycie, cold, vnwilling,
Bethe fo too, and fo breake off the talke,
And giue vs notice of his inclination :
For we to morrow hold divided Councels,
Wherein thy felfe fhalt highly be employ'd.

Rich. Commend me to Lord Williams: tell him Catesby,
His ancient Knot of dangerous Aduerfaries
To morrow are let blood at Pomfret Caſtle,
And bid my Lord, for ioy of this good newes,
Gue Miftreſſe Shore one gentle Kiffle the more.

Buck. Good Catesby, goe effect this buſineſſe foundly.

Cates. My good Lords both, with all the heed I can.

Rich. Shall we heare from you, Catesby, ere we sleepe?

Cates. You shall, my Lord.

Rich. At Crosby Houſe, there ſhall you find vs both.

Exit Catesby.

Buck. Now, my Lord,
What shall wee doe, if wee perceiue
Lord Hastings will not yeed to our Complots ?

Rich. Chop off his Head :

Something wee will determine :
And looke when I am King, clayme thou of me
The Earledome of Hereford, and all the mouteables
Whereof the King, my Brother, was poſſet.

Buck. Ile clayme that promife at your Graces hand.

Rich. And looke to haue it yeulded with all kindneſſe.
Come, let vs fuppe betimes, that afterwards
Wee may digeſt our complots in some forme.

Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter a Messinger to the Doore of Hastings.

Meff. My Lord, my Lord.

Hast. Who knockes ?

Meff. One from the Lord Stanley.

Hast. What is't a Clocke ?

Meff. Upon the stroke of foure,

Enter Lord Hastings.

Hast. Cannot my Lord Stanley sleepe these tedious
Nights?

Meff. So it appears, by that I haue to ſay :
First, he commends him to your Noble ſelfe.

Hast. What then?

Meff. Then certifies your Lordſhip, that this Night
He dreamt, the Bore had raf'd off his Helme :
Besides, he ſayes there are two Councels kept :
And that may be determin'd at the one,
Which may make you and him to rue at th'other.
Therefore he fends to know your Lordships pleafure,
If you will presently take Horſe with him,
And with all ſpeed poſt with him toward the North,
To ſhun the danger that his Soule diuines.

Hast. Goe fellow, goe, returne vnto thy Lord,
Bid him not feare the ſeperated Councell :
His Honor and my ſelfe are at the one,
And at the other, is my good friend Catesby :
Where nothing can proceede, that toucheth vs,
Whereof I ſhall not haue intelligence :
Tell him his Feares are ſhallow, without inſtance.
And for his Dreames, I wonder hee's ſo ſimple,
To truſt the mock'ry of vnquiet flumbers.
To flye the Bore, before the Bore purſues,
Were to incense the Bore to follow vs,
And make purſuit, where he did meane no chafe.
Goe, bid thy Maſter rife, and come to me,
And we will both together to the Tower,
Where he ſhall fee the Bore will vſe vs kindly.

Meff. Ile goe, my Lord, and tell him what you ſay.

Exit.

Enter Catesby.

Cates. Many good morrowes to my Noble Lord.

Hast. Good morrow Catesby, you are early flirring:
What newes, what newes, in this our tott'ring State ?

Cates. It is a recling World indeed, my Lord :
And I beleeue will neuer ſtand vpright,
Till Richard weare the Garland of the Realme.

Hast. How weare the Garland ?
Doeſt thou meane the Crowne ?

Cates. I, my good Lord.

Hast. Ile haue this Crown of mine cut from my ſhoulders,
Before Ile fee the Crowne ſo foule miſpla'd :
But canſt thou gueſſe, that he doth ayme at it?

Cates. I,

188

Cates. I, on my life, and hopes to find you forward,
Vpon his partie, for the gaine thereof:
And thereupon he fends you this good newes,
That this fame very day your enemies,
The Kindred of the Queene, muft dye at Pomfret.
Haſt. Indeed I am no mourner for that newes,
Because they haue beene ſill my aduerfaries:
But, that Hee giue my voice on Richards ſide,
To barre my Maſters Heires in true Deſcent,
God knowes I will not doe it, to the death.

Cates. God keepe your Lordſhip in that gracious minde.

Haſt. But I ſhall laugh at this a twelve-month hence,
That they which brought me in my Maſters hate,
I liue to looke vpon their Tragedie.
Well Catesby, ere a forſ-night make me older,
Ile ſend ſome packing, that yet thinke not on't.

Cates. 'Tis a vile thing to dye, my gracious Lord,
When men are vnprepar'd, and looke not for it.

Haſt. O monſtrous, monſtrous! and ſo falls it out
With Riuers, Vaughan, Grey: and ſo 'twill doe
With ſome men elfe, that thinke them ſelues as ſafe
As thou and I, who (as thou know'st) are deare
To Princely Richard, and to Buckingham.

Cates. Theie Princes both make high account of you,
For they account his Head vpon the Bridge.

Haſt. I know they doe, and I haue well deferu'd it.

Enter Lord Stanley.

Come on, come on, where is your Bore-Speare man?
Feare you the Bore, and goe ſo vnprouid?

Stan. My Lord good morrow, good morrow Catesby:
You may ieast on, but by the holy Rood,
I doe not like theſe ſeverall Councels, I.

Haſt. My Lord, I hold my Life as deare as yours,
And neuer in my dayes, I doe proteſt,
Was it ſo precious to me, as 'tis now:

Thinke you, but that I know our ſtate ſecure,
I would be ſo triumphant as I am?

Sta. The Lords at Pomfret, whc they rode from London,
Were iogund, and ſuppos'd their ſtates were ſure,
And they indeed had no cauſe to unſtruct:
But yet you ſee, how ſoon the Day o're-cas't.

This ſudden ſtab of Rancour I miſdoubt:

Pray God (I ſay) I proue a needleſſe Coward.

What, ſhall we toward the Tower? the day is ſpent.

Haſt. Come, come, haue with you:

Wot you what, my Lord,

To day the Lords you talke of, are beheaded.

Sta. They, for their truth, might better wear their Heads,
Then ſome that haue accus'd them, weare their Hats.
But come, my Lord, let's away.

Enter a Purſuuant.

Haſt. Goe on before, Ile talke with this good fellow.

Exit Lord Stanley, and Catesby.

How now, Sirtha? how goes the World with thee?

Purſ. The better, that your Lordſhip płaſe to aske.

Haſt. I tell thee man, 'tis better with me now,

Then when thou met'st me laſt, where now we meet:

Then was I going Prifoner to the Tower,
By the fuggelſon of the Queenes Allyes.

But now I tell thee (keepe it to thy ſelfe)
This day thate Enemies are put to death,

And I in better ſtate then ere I was.

Purſ. God hold it, to your Honors good content.

Haſt. Gramercie fellow : there, drinke that for me.

Throwes him his Purſe.

Purſ. I thanke your Honor.

Exit Purſuuant.

Enter a Prieſt.

Prieſt. Well met, my Lord, I am glad to ſee your H. nor.

Haſt. I thanke thee, good Sir Ioh, with all my heart,
I am in your debt, for your laſt Exercice:

Come the next Sabbath, and I will content you.

Prieſt. Ile wait vpon your Lordſhip.

Enter Buckingham.

Buc. What, talking with a Prieſt, Lord Chamberlaine?
Your friends at Pomfret, they doe need the Prieſt,
Your Honor hath no ſhriuing worke in hand.

Haſt. Good faith, and when I met this holy man,
The men you talke of, came into my minde,
What, goe you toward the Tower?

Buc. I doe, my Lord, but long I cannot ſtay there:
I ſhall returne before your Lordſhip, thence.

Haſt. Nay like enough, for I ſtay Dinner there.

Buc. And Supper too, although you know it not,
Come, will you goe?

Haſt. Ile wait vpon your Lordſhip.

Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Sir Richard Ratcliffe, with Halberds, carrying
the Nobies to death at Pomfret.

Riuers. Sir Richard Ratcliffe, let me tell thee this,
To day I ſhalt thou behold a St. bieſt die,
For Truth, for Dutie, and for Loyaltie.

Grey. God bleſſe the Prince from all the Pack of you,
A Knot you are, of damned Blood-fuckers.

Vaugh. You liue, that I ſhall cry woe for this hereafter.

Rat. Difpatch, the limit of your Liues is out.

Rivers. O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody Prifon
Fatall and ominous to Noble Peeres:

Within the guiltie Closure of thy Walls,

Richard the Second here was hackt to death:

And for more flander'd to thy diſmal Seat,

Wee giue to thee our guiltieſſe blood to drinke.

Grey. Now Margarets Curſe is falne vpon our Heads,
When ſhee exclaim'd on Haſtings, you, and I,
For ſtanding by, when Rishard ſtab'd her Sonne.

Rivers. Then curs'd ſhee Richard,

Then curs'd ſhee Buckingham,

Then curs'd ſhee Haſtings. Oh remember God,

To heare her prayer for them, as now for vs:

And for my Sifter, and her Princely Sonnes,

Be fatisſy'd, deare God, with our true blood,
Which, as thou know'st, vnwiſely muſt be spilt.

Rat. Make haſte, the houre of death is expiate.

Rivers. Come Grey, come Vaughan, let vs here embrace
Farewell, vntill we meet againe in Heauen.

Exeunt.

Scena.

189

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Buckingham. Darby, Hastings, Bishop of Ely,
Norfolke, Ratcliffe, Lowell, with others,
at a Table.

Hast. Now Noble Peeres, the cause why we are met,
I to determine of the Coronation :

In Gods Name (speake, when is the Royall day ?

Buck. Is all things ready for the Royall time ?

Darb. It is, and wants but nomination.

Ely. To morrow then I judge a happie day.

Buck. Who knowes the Lord Protectors mind herein?

Who is moft inward with the Noble Duke ?

Ely. Your Grace, we thinke, should sooneft know his
minde.

Buck. We know each others Faces: for our Hearts,
He knowes no more of mine, then I of yours,
Or I of his, my Lord, then you of mine :

Lord Hastings, you and he are neere in loue.

Hast. I thanke his Grace, I know he loues me well:
But for his purpose in the Coronation,
I haue not founded him, nor he deliuer'd
His gracious pleasure any way therein :

But you, my Honorable Lords, may name the time,
And in the Dukes behalf? Ile give my Voice,
Which I prefume hee le take in gentle part.

Enter Gloucester.

Ely. In happie time, here comes the Duke himselfe.

Rich. My Noble Lords, and Cousins all, good morrow:
I haue beene long a fleeper: but I truft,

My abfence doth neglect no great defigne,

Which by my prefence might haue beene concluded.

Buck. Had you not come vpon your Q my Lord,

William, Lord Hastings, had pronounc'd your part;

I meane your Voice, for Crowning of the King.

Rich. Then my Lord Hastings, no man might be bolder,
His Lordship knowes me well, and loues me well,
My Lord of Ely, when I was laft in Holborne,
I faw good Strawberries in your Garden there,
I doe befeech you, lend for some of them.

Ely. Mary, and will, my Lord, with all my heart.

Exit Bishop.

Rich. Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you.
Catesby hath founded Hastings in our businesse,
And findes the teftie Gentleman so hot,

That he will lofe his Head, ere giue consent

His Masters Child, as worshifly he tearmes it,

Shall lofe the Royaltie of Englands Throre.

Buck. Withdraw your selfe a while, Ile goe with you.

Exeunt.

Darb. We haue not yet fet downe this day of Triumph:
To morrow, in my iudgement, is too sudden,

For I my selfe am not so well prouided,

As else I would be, were the day prolong'd.

Enter the Bishop of Ely.

Ely. Where is my Lord, the Duke of Glofter ?

I haue fent for thefe Strawberries.

Ha. His Grace looks chearfully & smooth this morning,

There's some conceit or other likes him well,

When that he bids good morrow with such spirit.

I thinke there's neuer a man in Chrif tendome
Can leſſer hide his loue, or hate, then hee,

For by his Face (ſtraight) ſhall you know his Heart.

Darb. What of his Heart perceiue you in his Face,
By any liuelood he ſhew'd to day ?

Hast. Mary, that with no man here he is offended:
For were he, he had ſhewne it in his Lookes.

Enter Richard, and Buckingham.

Rich. I pray you all, tell me what they deferue,
That doe confpire my death with diuillifh Plots
Of damned Witchcraft, and that haue preuail'd
Vpon my Body with their Hellifh Charmes.

Hast. The render loue I beare your Grace, my Lord,
Makes me moſt forward, in this Princely prefence,
To doome th' Offendors, whoſo're they be :

I fay, my Lord, they haue deferu'd death.

Rich. Then be your eyes the witneſſe of their cill.
Looke how I am bewitch'd : behold, mine Arme

Is like a blafted Sapling, wither'd vp :

And this is Edwards Wife, that monſtrous Witch,

Conforted with that Harlot, Strumpet Sbore,

That by their Witchcraft thus haue marked me.

Hast. If they haue done this deed, my Noble Lord.

Rich. If? thou Protector of this damned Strumpet,
Talk't thou to me of Iſs : thou art a Traktor,
Off with his Head; now by Saint Paul I ſware,
I will not dine, vntill I fee the fame.

Lowell and Ratcliffe, looke that it be done :

Exeunt.

The reſt that loue me, rife, and follow me.

Manet Lowell and Ratcliffe, with the
Lord Hastings.

Hast. Woe, woe for England, not a whit for me,

For I, too fond, might haue preuent this :

Stanley did dreame, the Bore did rowe our Helmes,

And I did ſcorne it, and diſdaine to flye :

Three times to day my Foot-Cloth-Horfe did flumble,

And ſtarted, when he look'd vpon the Tower,

As loth to beare me to the ſlaughter-houſe.

O now I need the Prief, that I pake to me :

I now repent I told the Purſuiuant,

As too triumphing, how mine Enemies

To day at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd,

And I my ſelſe ſecure, in grace and fauour.

Oh Margaret, Margaret, now thy heauie Cúrſe

Is lighted on poore Hastings wretched Head.

Ra. Come, come, diſpatch, the Duke would be at dinner

Make a ſhort Shriſt, he longs to fee your Head.

Hast. O momentarie grace of mortall men,

Which we more hunt for, then the grace of God !

Who builds his hope in ayre of your good Lookes,

Lies like a drunken Sayler on a Maſt,

Readie with every Nod to rumble downe,

Into the fatall Bowels of the Deepe.

Lou. Come, come, diſpatch, 'tis bootleſſe to exclaime.

Hast. O bloody Richard: miſerable England,
I prophecie the fearefull ſt time to thee,
That euer wretched Age hath look'd vpon

Come, lead me to the Block, beare him my Head,

They ſmile at me, who ſhortly ſhall be dead.

Exeunt.

Enter

190

Enter Richard, and Buckingham, in rotten Armour,
marvellous ill-favoured.

Richard. Come Coulin,
Canst thou quake, and change thy colour,
Murther thy breath in middle of a word,
And then againe begin, and stop againe,
As if thou were distraught, and mad with terror?

Buck. Tut, I can counterfeit the deepe Tragedian,
Speake, and looke backe, and prie on every side:
Tremble and flart at wagging of a Straw:
Intending deepe sufpfition, gaffly Lookes
Are at my feruice, like enforced Smiles;
And both are readie in their Offices,
At any time to grace my Stratagemes.
But what, is Catesby gone?

Rich. He is, and see he brings the Maior along.

Enter the Maior, and Catesby.

Buck. Lord Maior.

Rich. Looke to the Draw-Bridge there,

Buck. Hearke, a Drumme.

Rich. Catesby, o're-looke the Walls.

Buck. Lord Maior, the reafon we haue sent.

Rich. Looke back, defend thee, here are Enemies.

Buck. God and our Innocencie defend, and guard vs.

Enter Louell and Ratcliffe, with Haftings Head.

Rich. Be patient, they are friends: Ratcliffe, and Louell.

Louell. Here is the Head of that ignoble Traytor,
The dangerous and vnsuspected Haftings.

Rich. So deare I lou'd the man, that I must weepe :
I tooke him for the plainest harmeleſſe Creature,
That breath'd upon the Earth, a Chriſtian.
Made him my Booke, wherein my Soule recorded
The Hiftorie of all her ſecret thoughts.

So smooth he dawb'd his Vice with ſhew of Vertue,
That his apparent open Guilt omitted,
I meane, his Conuerſation with Shores Wife,
He liu'd from all attainder of ſuſpects.

Buck. Well, well, he was the couert ſheltred Traytor
That euuer liu'd.

Would you imagine, or almost beleeue,

Wert not, that by great preſeruation
We liue to tell it, that the ſubtill Traytor

This day had plotted, in the Councell-Houſe,
To murther me, and my good Lord of Glofter.

Maior. Had he done ſo ?

Rich. What? thinke you we are Turkes, or Infidels?
Or that we would, againſt the forme of Law,
Proceed thus rafhly in the Villaines death,
But that the extreme perill of the caſe,
The Peace of England, and our Perſons ſaſſetie,
Enfore'd vs to this Execution.

Maior. Now faire befall you, he deferu'd his death,
And your good Graces both haue well proceeded,
To warne talſe Traytors from the like Attempts.

Buck. I neuer look'd for better at his hands,
After he once fell in with Miftresſe Shore :
Yet had we not determin'd he should dye,
Vntill your Lordſhip came to ſee his end,
Which now the louing haſte of these our friends,
Something againſt our meanings, haue prevented ;

Because my Lord, I would haue had you heard
The Traytor ſpeake, and timorously confesse
The manner and the purpose of his Treſaons :

That you might well haue ſignify'd the ſame
Vnto the Citizens, who haply may
Mifconſter vs in him, and wayle his death.

Ma. But, my good Lord, your Graces words ſhal feru-
As well as I had ſeene, and heard him ſpeake :
And doe not doubt, right Noble Princes both,
But Ile acquaint our dutious Citizens
With all your iuſt proceedings in this caſe.

Rich. And to that end we wifch'd your Lordſhip here,
T'auoid the Cenſures of the carping World.

Buck. Which ſince you come too late of our intent,
Yet wittneſſe what you heare we did intend:
And ſo, my good Lord Maior, we bid farwell,

Exit Maior.

Rich. Goe after, after, Cousin Buckingham.

The Maior towards Guild-Hall hyes him in all poffe:
There, at your meeteſt vantage of the time,
Inferre the Baſtardie of Edwards Children:
Tell them, how Edward put to death a Citizen,
Onely for faying, he would make his Sonne
Heire to the Crowne, meaning indeed his Houſe,
Which, by the Signe thereof, was teared ſo,
Moreover, vrge his hatefull Luxurie,
And beaſtall appetite in change of Luft,
Which ſtretcht vnto their Seruants, Daughters, Wives,
Euen where his raging eye, or ſauage heart,
Without controll, luſted to make a prey.
Nay, for a need, thus farre come neere my Perſon:
Tell them, when that my Mother went with Child
Of that inſatiate Edward; Noble Torke,
My Princely Father, then had Warres 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't were farre off,
Because, iny Lord, you know my Mother liues.

Buck. Doubt not, my Lord, Ile play the Orator,
As if the Golden Fee, for which I plead,
Were for my ſelfe : and ſo, my Lord, adue.

Rich. If you thriue wel, bring them to Baynards Caſſe,
Where you ſhall finde me well accompanied
With reuerend Fathers, and well-learned Bifhops.

Buck. I goe, and towards three or foure a Clocke
Looke for the Newes that the Guild-Hall affoords.

Exit Buckingham.

Rich. Goe Louell with all ſpeed to Doctor Shaw,
Goe thou to Fryer Pewker, bid them both
Meet me within this houre at Baynards Caſſe.
Now will I goe to take ſome priuie order,
To draw the Brats of Clarence out of ſight,
And to giue order, that no manner perſon
Haue any time recourse vnto the Princes.

Exeunt.

Exeunt.

Enter a Serviuer.

Scr. Here is the Indictment of the good Lord Haſtines,
Which in a ſet Hand fairely is engroſſ'd,
That it may be to day read o're in Paules.
And marke how well the ſequell hangs together :
Eleuen houres I haue ſpent to write it ouer,
For yeuer-night by Catesby was it ſent me,
The Precedent was full as long a doing,
And yet within these ſue houres Haſtines liu'd,
Vntainted, vnexamin'd, free, at libertie.
Here's a good World the while.

Here's a good World the while.
Who is lo groſſe, that cannot ſee this palpable deuice?

191

Yet who so bold, but fayes he fees it not?

Bad is the World, and all will come to nought,

When such ill dealing must be seen in thought. Exit.

Enter Richard and Buckingham at several Doors.

Rich. How now, how now, how now, what fay the Citizens?

Buck. Now by the holy Mother of our Lord,

The Citizens are mum, fay not a word,

Rich. Toucht you the Baſtardie of Edwards Children?

Buck. I did, with his Contract with Lady Lucy,

And his Contract by Deputie in France,

Thynſatiate greedinesſe of his defire,

And his enforcement of the Citie Wines,

His Tyrannie for Triffles, his owne Baſtardie,

As being got, your Father then in France,

And his remembance, being not like the Duke.

Withall, I did inferre your Lineaments,

Being the right Idea of your Father,

Both in your forme, and Noblenesse of Minde :

Layd open all your Victories in Scotland,

Your Dificipline in Warre, Wifdome in Peace,

Your Bountie, Vertue, faire Humilitie :

Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpose,

Vatoucht, or fleightly handled in discourſe.

And when my Oratorie drew toward end,

I bid them that did loue their Countries good,

Cry, God faue Richard, Englands Royall King.

Rich. And did they ſo ?

Buck. No, ſo God helpe me, they ſpake not a word,

But like dumbe Statues, or breathing Stones,

Star'd each on other, and look'd deadly pale :

Which when I saw, I reprehended them,

And ask'd the Maior, what meant this wilfull filence?

His anſwer was, the people were not ſved

Tobe ſpoke to, but by the Recorder.

Then he was vrg'd to tell my Tale againe :

Thus ſayt the Duke, thus hath the Duke infert'd,

But nothing ſpoke, in warrant from himſelſe.

When he had done, ſome followers of mine owne,

At lower end of the Hall, hurld vp their Caps,

And ſome tenne voyses cry'd, God faue King Richard :

And thus I tooke the vantage of thofe few.

Thankes gentle Citizens, and friends, quoth I,

This generall applaſe, and chearefull ſhowt,

Argues your wifdome, and your loue to Richard :

And euen here brake off, and came away.

Rich. What tongue-leſſe Blockes were they,

Would they not ſpeake?

Will not the Maior then, and his Brethren, come?

Buck. Here the Maior is here: intend ſome feare,

Be not you ſpoke with, but by mightie ſuit :

And looke you get a Prayer-Booke in your hand,

And ſtand betweene two Church-men, good my Lord,

For on that ground Ile make a holy Defcant :

And be not easily wonne to our requeſts,

Play the Maids part, ſtill anſwer nay, and take it.

Rich. I goe: and if you plead as well for them,

As I can ſay nay to thee for my ſelſe,

No doubt we bring it to a happie ilſue.

Enter the Maior, and Citizens.

Welcome, my Lord, I dance attendance here,

I thinke the Duke will not be ſpoke withall.

Enter Catesby.

Buck. Now Catesby, what fayes your Lord to my request?

Catesby. He doth entreat your Grace, my Noble Lord,
To visit him to morrow, or next day :

He is within, with two right reuerend Fathers,

Diuinely bent to Meditation,

And in no Worldly ſuites would he be moud;

To draw him from his holy Exercife.

Buck. Returne, good Catesby, to the gracious Duke,
Tell him, my ſelſe, the Maior and Aldermen,

In deepe deſignes, in matter of great moment,

No leſſe importing then our generall good,

Are come to haue ſome conference with his Grace.

Catesby. Ile ſignifie ſo much vnto him ſtraight. Exit.

Buck. Ah ha, my Lord, this Prince is not an Edward.

He is not lulling on a lewd Loue-Bed,

But on his Knees, at Meditation :

Not dallying with a Brace of Curtizans,

But meditating with two deepe Diuines :

Not ſleeping, to engroſſe his idle Body,

But praying, to enrich his watchful Soule.

Happie were England, would this vertuous Prince

Take on his Grace the Soueraigntie thereof.

But ſure I feare we ſhall not winne him to it.

Maior. Marry God defend his Grace ſhould ſay vs
nay.

Buck. I feare he will: here Catesby comes againe.

Enter Catesby.

Now Catesby, what fayes his Grace?

Catesby. He wonders to what end you haue assembled

Such troops of Citizens, to come to him,

His Grace not being warn'd thereof before :

He feares, my Lord, you meane no good to him.

Buck. Sorry I am, my Noble Cousin ſhould

Sufſpect me, that I meane no good to him :

By Heauen, we come to him in perſit loue,

And ſo once more returne, and tell his Grace.

Exit.

When holy and deout Religious men

Are at their Beades, 'tis much to draw them thence,

So ſweet is zealous Contemplation.

Enter Richard aloft, betweene two Biflops.

Maior. See where his Grace ſlands, tweene two Clergie men.

Buck. Two Props of Vertue, for a Chriſtian Prince,

To ſlay him from the fall of Vanitie :

And fee a Booke of Prayer in his hand,

True Ornaments to know a holy man.

Famous Plantagenet, moſt gracious Prince,

Lend ſavourable ear to our requeſts,

And pardon vs the interruption

Of thy Deuotion, and right Chriſtian Zeale.

Rich. My Lord, there needes no ſuch Apologie :

I doe beſeech you, pardon me,

Who earneſt in the ſeruice of my God,

Deferr'd the viſitation of my friends.

But leauing this, what is your Graces pleafure?

Buck. Euen that (I hope) which plegeth God aboue,

And all good men, of this vngouern'd Ile.

Rich. I doe ſupſect I haue done ſome ſoffence,

That ſeemes diſgracious in the Cities eye,

And that you come to reprehend my ignorance.

f 2

Buck, You

192

Buck. You haue,my Lord:
Would it might please your Grace,
On our entreaties, to amend your fault.
Rich. Elfe wherefore breathe I in a Christian Land.

Rich. Elfe wherefore breathe I in a Christian Land.
Buck. Know then, it is your fault, that you refigne
The Supreme Seat, the Throne Maiesticall,
The Sceptred Office of your Ancestors,
Your State of Fortune,and your Deaw of Birth,
The Lineall Glory of your Royall House,
To the corruption of a blemisht Stock;
Whiles in the mildnesse of your fleepie thoughts,
Which here we waken to our Countries good,
The Noble Ile doth want his proper Limmes:
His Face defac'd with skarres of Infamie,
His Royall Stock grafft with ignoble Plants,
And almost shouldred in the swallowing Gulfe
Of darke Forgetfulnesse,and deepe Obliuion.
Which to recure, we heartily folicite
Your gracious selfe to take on you the charge
And Kingly Gouernment of this your Land:
Not as Protector,Steward,Substitute,
Or lowly Factor, for anothers gaine;
But as succelflively, from Blood to Blood,
Your Right of Birth,your Empyrie,your owne.
For this, conforted with the Citizens,
Your very Worshifull and louing friends,
And by their vehement infligation,
In this iust Caufe come I to moue your Grace.

Rich. I cannot tell if to depart in filence,
Or bitterly to fpeake in your reproofe,
Beft fitteth my Degree,or your Condition.
If not to anſwer, you might haply thinke,
Tongue-ty'd Ambition,not replying,yeelded
To beare the Golden Yoake of Soueraightie,
Which fondly you would here impofe on me.
If to reproue you for this ſuit of yours,
So feaſond with your faithfull loue to me,
Then on the other ſide I check'd my friends.
Therefore to ſpeake, and to auoid the firſt,
And then in ſpeaking, not to incurre the laſt,
Definitiually thus I anſwer you.
Your loue deferues my thanks, but my defert
Vnmeritable, ſhunnes your high requeſt.
Firſt, if all Obſtacles were cut away,
And that my Path were even to the Crowne,
As the ripe Reuenue, and due of Birth:
Yet ſo much is my pouertie of ſpirit,
So mightie, and ſo manie my defects,
That I would rather hide me from my Greatneſſe,
Being a Barke to brooke no mightie Sea;
Then in my Greatneſſe couet to be hid,
And in the vapour of my Glory ſmoother'd.
But God be thank'd, there is no need of me,
And much I need to helpe you, were there need:
The Royall Tree hath left vs Royall Fruita,
Which mellow'd by the fealing howres of time,
Will well become the Seat of Maiestie,
And make (no doubt) vs happy by his Reigne.
On him I lay that, you would lay on me,
The Right and Fortune of his happie Starres,
Which God defend that I should wring from him.

Buck. My Lord, this argues Conſcience in your Grace,
But the reſpects thereof are nice, and triuiall,
All circumstances well considered.
You ſay, that Edward is your Brothers Sonne,
So ſay we too, but not by Edwards Wife:

For firſt was he contract to Lady Lucie,
Your Mother liues a Witneſſe to his Vow;
And afterward by ſubſitute betroth'd
To Bona,Sifter to the King of France.
Theſe both put off, a poore Petitioner,
A Care-cras'd Mother to a many Sonnes,
A Beautie-waining,and diſſreffed Widow,
Euen in the after-noone of her beſt dayes,
Made prize and purchase of his wanton Eye,
Sedu'd the pitch, and height of his degree,
To bafe declenſion,and loath'd Bigamie.
By her, in his vnlawſull Bed, he got
This Edward, whom our Manners call the Prince,
More bitterly could I exſpofulate,
Saue that for reverence to ſome aliume,
I giue a ſparing limit to my Tongue.
Then good,my Lord, take to your Royall ſelfe
This proffer'd benefit of Dignitie:
If not to bleſſe vs and the Land withall,
Yet to draw forth your Noble Anceſtrie
From the corruption of abuſing times,
Vnto a Lineall true deriu'd courſe.

Maior. Do good my Lord,your Citizens entreat you.

Buck. Refuse not,mightie Lord,this proffer'd loue.

Catesb. O make them ioyfull, grant their lawſull ſuit.

Rich. Alas,why would you heape this Care on me?
I am vnſit for State,and Maiestie:
I doe beſeech you take it not amisse,
I cannot, nor I will not yeeld to you.

Buck. If you refuse it,as in loue and zeale,
Loth to depofe the Child,your Brothers Sonne,
As well we know your tenderneſſe of heart,
And gentle,kinde,effeminate remorſe,
Which we have noted in you to your Kindred,
And egally indeede to all Eſtates:
Yet know, where you accept our ſuit,or no,
Your Brothers Sonne ſhall neuer reigne our King,
But we will plant ſome other in the Thronc,
To the diſgrace and downe-fall of your House:
And in this refolution here we leaue you.
Come Citizens, we will entreat no more.

Exeunt.

Catesb. Call him againe, ſweet Prince, accept their ſuit.
If you denie them, all the Land will rue it.

Rich. Will you enforce me to a world of Cares,
Call them againe, I am not made of Stones,
But penetrable to your kinde entreaties,
Albeit againſt my Conſcience and my Soule.

Enter Buckingham, and the reſt.
Cousin of Buckingham, and ſage grauen men,
Since you will buckle fortune on my back,
To beare her burthen, where I will or no.
I muſt have patience to endure the Load:
But if black Scandall, or foule-fac'd Reproach,
Attend the ſequell of your Impoſition,
Your meere enforcement ſhall acquittance me
From all the impure blots and ſtaynes thereof;
For God doth know, and you may partly see,
How farre I am from the defire of this.

Maior. God bleſſe your Grace, wee ſee it, and will
ſay it.

Rich. In ſaying so,you ſhall but ſay the truth.
Buck. Then I ſalute you with this Royall Title,
Long lue King Richard,Englands worthie King.

All. Amen.

Buck. To morrow may please you to be Crownd.

Rich. Euen when you pleafe, for you will haue it for
Buck. To

193

Buck. To morrow then we will attend your Grace,
And so must joyfully we take our leafe.

Rich. Come, let vs to our holy Worke againe.
Farewell my Cousins, farewell gentle friends. Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter the Queene, Anne Duchesse of Gloucester, the
Duchess of Yorke, and Marquess Dorset.

Duch. Yorke. Who meetes vs heere?

My Niece Plantagenet,

Led in the hand of her kind Aunt of Gloster?

Now, for my Life, shee's wandring to the Tower,
On pure hearts loue; to greet the tender Prince.

Daughter, well met,

Anne. God giue your Graces both, a happie

And a joyfull time of day.

Qu. As much to you, good Sifter: whither away?

Anne. No farther then the Tower, and as I gueffe,
Vpon the like deuotion as your felves,
To gratulate the gentle Princes there.

Qu. Kind Sifter thankes, wee'll enter all together.

Enter the Lieutenant.

And in good time, here the Lieutenant comes.

Master Lieutenant, pray you, by your leafe,

How doth the Prince, and my young Sonne of Yorke?

Liz. Right well, deare Madame : by your patience,
I may not fuffer you to vifit them,

The King hath friendly charg'd the contrary.

Qu. The King ? who's that?

Lien. I meane, the Lord Protector.

Qu. The Lord protect him from that Kingly Title.
Hath he set bounds betweene their loue, and me?

I am their Mother, who shall barre me from them?

Duch. Yorke. I am their Fathers Mother, I will see
them.

Anne. Their Aunt I am in law, in lone their Mother:

Then bring me to their fights, Ile beare thy blame,
And take thy Office from thee, on my perill.

Lien. No, Madame, no; I may not leaue it to:
I am bound by Oath, and therefore pardon me.

Exit Lieutenant.

Enter Stanley.

Stanley. Let me but meet you Ladies one howre hence,
And Ile salute your Grace of Yorke as Mother,
And reuerend looker on of two faire Queenes,
Come Madame, you must be straight to Westminster,
There to be crowned Richards Royall Queene.

Qu. Ah, cut my Lace afunder,
That my pent heart may haue some scope to beat,
Or else I woone with this dead-killing newes.

Anne. Despightfull tidings, O no, pleasing newes.

Dorf. Be of good cheare: Mother, how fares your
Grace?

Qu. O Dorset, speake not to me, get thee gone,
Death and Destruction dogges thee at thy heeles,
Thy Mothers Name is ominous to Children.

If thou wilt out-trip Death, goe crost the Seas,
And liue with Richmond, from the reach of Hell.
Goe hye thee, hye thee from this slaughter-house,
Left thou encreafe the number of the dead,
And make me dye the thrill of Margarets Curfe,
Nor Mother, Wife, nor Englands counted Queene.

Stanley. Full of wife care, is this your counsile, Madame:
Take all the swift aduantage of the howres:

You shall haue Letters from me to my Sonne,
In your behalfe, to meet you on the way :
Be not ta'n tardie by vnwife delay.

Duch. Yorke. O ill disperling Winde of Miserie,
O my accurfed Wombe, the Bed of Death :

A Cockatrice haft thou hatect to the World,
Whome vnauoided Eye is murtherous.

Stanley. Come, Madame, come, I in all haſte was sent.

Anne. And I with all vnwillingnesse will goe.
O wold to God, that the incluſive Verge

Of Golden Mettall, that must round my Brow,
Were red hot Steele, to feare me to the Brains,
Anoynted let me be with deadly Venome,
And dye ere men can fay, God faue the Queene.

Qu. Goe, goe, poore foule, I enuie not thy glory,
To feed my humor, with thy ſelfe no harme.

Anne. No: why? When he that is my Husband now,
Came to me, as I follow'd Henries Corfe,

When ſcearc the blood was well waſht from his hands,
Which iuſed from my other Angell Husband,

And that deare Saint, which then I weeping follow'd:
O, when I ſay I look'd on Richards Face,

This was my Wifh: Se thou (quoth I) accuſt,

For making me, so young, so old a Widow :

And when thou wed'ft, let ſorrow haunt thy Bed;

And be thy Wife, if any be so mad,

More miferable, by the Life of thee,

Then thou haſt made me, by my deare Lords death,

Loe, ere I can repeat this Curſe againe,

Within so ſmall a time, my Womans heart

Groſſely grew captive to his honey words,

And proud the ſubieſt of mine ownne Soules Curſe,

Which hitherto hath held mine eyes from reſt:

For neuer yet one howre in his Bed

Did I enioy the golden dew of sleepe,

But with his timorous Dreames was ſtill awak'd.

Besides, he hates me for my Father Warwicke,

And will (no doubt) shortly be rid of me.

Qu. Poore heart adieu, I pittie thy complaining.

Anne. No more, then with my foule I mourne for
yours.

Dorſ. Farewell, thou wofull welcommer of glory.

Anne. Adieu, poore foule, that tak't thy leaue
of it.

Dorſ. Go thou to Richmond, & good fortune guide thee,
Go thou to Richard, and good Angels tend thee,

Go thou to Sanctuary, and good thoughts poffeſſe thee,
I to my Graue, where peace and reſt lye with meee.

Eightie odde yeeres of ſorrow hathe I feene,

And each howres ioy wrackt with a weeke of teene.

Qu. Stay, yet looke backe with me vnto the Tower.
Picty, you ancient Stones, thofe tender Babes,

Whom Enuie hath immur'd within your Walls,

Rough Cradle for ſuch little prettie ones,

Rude ragged Nurſe, old ſullen Play-fellow,

For tender Princes: vſe my Babies well;

So foolish Sorrowes bids your ſtones farewell.

Exeunt.

f 3

Sound

195

That euer yet this Land was guilty of:
Dighton and Forrest, who I did suborne
To do this pecce of ruthfull Butchery,
Albeit they were fleft Villaines, bloody Dogges,
Melted with tenderneſſe, and milde compaſſion,
Wept like to Children, in their deaths ſad Story.
O thus (quoth Dighton) lay the gentle Babes :
Thus, thus (quoth Forrest) girdling one another
Within their Alablaſter innocent Armes:
Their lips were foure red Rofes on a ſtalke,
And in their Summer Beauty kift each other.
A Booke of Prayers on their pillow lay,
Which one (quoth Forrest) almoſt chang'd my minde:
But oh the Diuell, there the Villaine ſopt :
When Dighton thus told on, we ſmothered
The moſt replenſhed ſweet worke of Nature,
That from the prime Creation ere ſhe framed,
Hence both are gone with Conſcience and Remorſe,
They could not ſpeake, and ſo I left them both,
To beare this tydings to the bloody King.

### Enter Richard.

And heere he comes. All health my Soueraigne Lord.
Rich. Kinde Tirrell, am I happy in thy Newes.
Tir. If to haue done the thing you gaue in charge,
Beget your happineſſe, be happy then,
For it is done.

Rich. But did it thou fee them dead.

Tir. I did my Lord.

Rich. And buried gentle Tirrell.

Tir. The Chaplaine of the Tower hath buried them,
But where (to ſay the truth) I do not know.

Rich. Come to me Tirrell ſoone, and after Supper,
When thou ſhalt tell the proceſſe of their death.
Meane time, but thinke how I may do the good,
And be inheritor of thy deſire.
Farewell till then.
Tir. I humbly take my leaue.
Rich. The Sonne of Clarence haue I pent vp cloſe,
His daughter meanly haue I matcht in marriage,
The Sonnes of Edward ſleepe in Abrahams boſome,
And Anne my wife hath bid this world good night.
Now for I know the Britaine Richmond aymes
At yong Elizabeth my brothers daughter,
And by that knot lookes proudly on the Crowne,
To her go I, a iolly thriuing wooer.

### Enter Ratcliffes.

Rat. My Lord,
Rich. Good or bad newes, that thou com'st in so
bluntly?
Rat. Bad news my Lord, Mourton is fled to Richmond,
And Buckingham backt with the hardy Welſhmen
Is in the field, and ſill his power encreaſeth.

Rich. Ely with Richmond troubles me more neere,
Then Buckingham and his rath leuied Strength.
Come, I haue learn'd, that fearfull commenting
Is leaden feruitor to dull delay.
Delay leds impotent and Snaile-pac'd Beggery:
Then fierie expedition be my wing,
Ioues Mercury, and Herald for a King:
Go muſter men: My counſaile is my Sheeld,
We muſt be breeſe, when Traitors braue the Field.

Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Mar. So now prosperity begins to mellow,
And drop into the rotten mouth of death:
Heere in theſe Confines flily haue I lurk,
To watch the waining of mine enemies.
A dire inducation, am I witneſſe to,
And will to France, hoping the conſequence
Will proue as bitter, blacke, and Tragicall.
Withdraw thee wretched Margaret, who comes heere?

### Enter Dauscheſſe and Queene.

Qu. Ah my poore Princes! ah my tender Babes :
My vnblowed Flowres, new appearing ſweets :
If yet your gentle ſoules flye in the Ayre,
And be not fixt in doome perpetuall,
Houer about me with your ayery wings,
And heare your mothers Lamentation.

Mar. Houer about her, ſay that right for right
Hath dim'd your Infant morne, to Aged night.

Dut. So many miſeries haue craz'd my voyce,
That my woe-wearied tongue is ſill and mute.
Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet,
Edward for Edward, payes a dying debt.

Qu. Wilt thou, O God, flye from ſuch gentle Lambs,
And throw them in the intrailes of the Wolfe ?
When didt thou ſleepe, when ſuch a deed was done?

Mar. When holy Harry dyed, and my wweet Sonne.
Dut Dead life, blind fight, poore mortall liuing ghoſt,
Woes Scene, Worlds ſhame, Graues due, by life vurpt,
Breeſe abſtact and record of tedious dayes,
Reſt thy vnreſt on Englands lawfull earth,
Vnlawfully made drunke with innocent blood.

Qu. Ah that thou would't aſſoone affoord a Graue,
As thou canſt yeeld a melancholly ſteate:
Then would I hide my bones, not reſt them heere,
Ah who hath any caufe to mourne but wee ?

Mar. If ancient forrow be moſt reuerent,
Giu'e mine the benefit of ſigneurie,
And let my greeſes frowne on the upper hand
If forrow can admit Society.

I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him:
I had a Husband, till a Richard kill'd him:
Thou had'ſt an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him:
Thou had'ſt a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him.

Dut. I had a Richard too, and thou did'ſt kill him;
I had a Rutland too, thou hop'ſt to kill him.

Mar. Thou had'ſt a Clarence too,
And Richard kill'd him.

From forth the kennell of thy wombe hath crept
A Hell-hound that doth hunt vs all to death:
That Dogge, that had his teeth before his eyes,
To worry Lambes, and lap their gentle blood :
That foule defacer of Gods handy worke :
That reignes in gauled eyes of weeping ſoules :
That excellent grand Tyrant of the earth,
Thy wombe let loose to chafe vs to our graues.
O vpright, juſt, and true-dispofing God,
How do I thanke thee, that this carnall Curre

Prayes.

196

Prayes on the iffue of his Mothers body,
And makes her Pue-fellow with others mone.

Dut. Oh Harries wife, triumph not in my woes :
God witnesse with me, I haue wept for thine.

Mar. Beare with me: I am hungry for reuenge,
And now I cloy me with beholding it.

Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward,
The other Edward dead, to quit my Edward:
Yong Yorke, he is but boote, because both they
Mateht not the high perfection of my loffe.

Thy Clarence he is dead, that ftab'd my Edward,
And the beholders of this franticke play,
Th' adulterate Haftings, Riuers, Vaughan, Gray,
Vntimelyfmother'd in their dusky Graues.

Richard yet lines, Hels blacke Intelligencer,
Onely referr'd their Factor, to buy foules,
And fend them thither: But at hand, at hand
Infues his pittious and vnpietted end.

Earth gapes, Hell burnes, Fiends roare, Saints pray,
To haue him sodainly conuey'd from hence:
Cancell his bond of life, decre God I pray,
That I may liue and fay, The Dogge is dead.

Qu. O thou didst propheſie, the time would come,
That I should wifh for thee to helpe me curſe
That bottel'd Spider, that foule bunch-back'd Toad.

Mar. I call'd thee then, vaine flourish of my fortune:
I call'd thee then, poore Shadow, painted Queen,
The preſentation of but what I was;

The flattering Index of a direfull Pageant;
One heau'd a high, to be hurl'd downe below:
A Mother onely mockt with two faire Babes;
A dreame of what thou waſt, a garſh Flagge
To be the ayme of every dangerous Shot;

A ſigne of Dignity, a Breath, a Bubble;
A Queene in itaſt, onely to fill the Scene.

Where is thy Husband now? Where be thy Brothers ?

Where be thy two Sonnes? Wherein doſt thou Ioy ?

Who ſues, and kneeles, and ſayes, God faue the Queene ?
Where be the bending Peeres that flattered thee?

Where be the thronging Troopes that followed thee?

Decline all this, and fee what now thou art.

For happy Wife, a mol difſtressed Widdow :

For ioyfull Mother, one that wails the name :

For one being ſued too, one that humbly ſues :

For Queene, a very Caytiffe, crown'd with care :

For ſhe that ſcorn'd at me, now ſcorn'd of me :

For ſhe being ſeared of all, now ſearing one :

For the commanding all, obey'd of none.

Thus hath the courſe of Iuſtice whirl'd about,
And left thee but a very prey to time,

Having no more but Thought of what thou waſt.

To torture thee the more, being what thou art,
Thou didst vurpe my place, and doſt thou not
Vurpe the ill proportion of my Sorrow ?

Now thy proud Necke, beares halſe my burthen'd yoke,
From which euen heere I flip my wearied head,
And leaue the burthen of it all, on thee.

Fatwell Yorke's wife, and Queene of ſad miſchance,
These English woes, that make me ſmile in France.

Qu. O thou well skill'd in Curses, ſlay a-while,
And teach me how to curſe mine enemies.

Mar. Forbeare to ſleep the night, and ſaſt the day:
Compare dead happineſe, with liuing woe :

Thinke that thy Babes were ſweeter then they were,
And he that flew them fowler then he is :

Bett'ring thy loffe, makes the bad cauſer worſe,

Reuoluing this, will teach thee how to Curiſe!

Qu. My words are dull, O quicken them with thine.
Mar. Thy woes will make them sharpe,

And pierce like mine.

Dut. Why should calamity be full of words?

Qu. Windy Atturnies to their Clients Woes,
Ayery ſucceeders of intefine ioyes,

Poore breathing Orators of miſeries,
Let them haue ſcope, though what they will impart,
Helpe nothing els, yet do they eafe the hart.

Dut. If so then, be not Tongue-ty'd i going with me,
And in the breath of bitter words, let's mother
My damned Son, that thy two ſweet Sonnes mother'd.
The Trumpet ſounds, be copious in exlaimes.

Enter King Richard, and his Traine.

Rich. Who intercepts me in my Expedition ?

Dut. O ſhe, that might haue intercepted thee
By ſangling thee in her acurſed wombe,
From all the ſlaughtehers (Wretche) that thou haſt done.

Qu. Hid't thou that Forhead with a Golden Crowne?
Where't should be branded, if that right were right?
The ſlaughtcher of the Prince that ow'd that Crowne,
And the dyre death of my poore Sonnes, and Brothers.

Tell me thou Villaine-flaue, where are my Children?

Dut. Thou Toad, thou Toade,

Where is thy Brother Clarence ?

And little Ned Plantagenet his Sonne ?

Qu. Where is the gentle Riuers, Vaughan, Gray?

Dut. Where is kindle Haſtings?

Rich. A flourish Trumpets, ſtrike Alarum Drummes;
Let not the Heauens heare theſe Tell-tale women

Raile on the Lords Annointed. Strike I ſay.

Flourish. Alarums.

Either be patient, and intreat me ſayre,
Or with the clamorous report of Warre,
Thus will I droune your exlaimes.

Dut. Art thou my Sonne?

Rich. I, I thanke God, my Father, and your ſelfe.

Dut. Then patiently heare my impatience.

Rich. Madam, I haue a touch of your condition,
That cannot brooke the accent of reproofe.

Dut. O let me ſpeak.

Rich. Do then, but Ile not heare.

Dut: I will be milde, and gentle in my words.

Rich. And breeſe (good Mother) for I am in haſt.

Dut. Art thou ſo haſty? I haue ſtaſt for thee
(God knowes) in torment and in agony.

Rich. And came I not at laſt to comfort you?

Dut. No by the holy Rood, thou know'st it well,
Thou cam't on earth, to make the earth my Hell.

A greenous burthen was thy Birth to me,

Tetcht and wayward was thy Iuſance.

Thy School-daies frightfull, deſp't rate, wilde, and ſurious,
Thy prime of Manhood, daring, bold, and venturous:

Thy Age confirm'd, proud, ſubtle, ſlye, and bloody,
More milde, but yer more harmfull; Keinde in hatred:

What comfortable houre canſt thou name,
That euer grac'd me with thy company?

Rich. Faith none, but Humſrey Hower,

That call'd your Grace

To Breakeſt once, forth of my company.

If I be ſo diſgracious in your eye,

Let me march on, and not offend you Madam.
Strike vp the Drumme.

Dut. I prythe heare me ſpeake.

Rich.

197

Rich. You speake too bitterly.

Dut. Heare me a word:

For I shall neuer speake to thee againe.

Rich. So.

Dut. Either thou wilt dye, by God's iust ordinance
Ere from this warre thou turne a Conqueror:

Or I with greefe and extreme Age shall perish,
And neuer more behold thy face againe.

Therefore take with thee my most greeneous Curfe,
Which in the day of Battrell tyre thee more
Then all the compleat Armour that thou wear'st.

My Prayers on the aduerſ party fight,

And there the little ſoules of Edwards Children,
Whisper the Spirits of thine Enemies,

And promife them Succeſſe and Victory:

Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end:

Shame ferues thy life, and doth thy death attend. Exit.
Qu. Though far more caufe, yet much leſſe ſpirit to curſe
Abides in me, I ſay Amen to her.

Rich. Stay Madam, I muſt take a word with you,

Qu. I have no more ſonnes of the Royall Blood

For thee to ſlaughter. For my Daughters (Richard)

They ſhall be praying Nunnes, not weeping Queenes:

And therefore leuell not to hit their liues.

Rich. You haue a daughter call'd Elizabeth,

Vertuous and Fair, Royall and Gracious?

Qu. And muſt ſhe dye for this? O let her liue,

And Ile corrupt her Manners, ſtaine her Beauty,
Slander my ſelfe, as falſe to Edwards bed:

Throw ouer her the vaile of Infamy,

So ſhe may liue vnſcar'd of bleeding ſlaughter,
I will conſeſſe ſhe was not Edwards daughter.

Rich. Wrong not her Byrth, ſhe is a Royall Princesſe.

Qu. To faue her life, Ile ſay ſhe is not to.

Rich. Her life is ſafetly onely in her byrth.

Qu. And onely in that ſafety, dyed her Brothers.

Rich. Loe at their Birth, good ſtaries were oppoſite.

Qu. No, to their liues, ill friends were contrary.

Rich. All vnauoſed is the doome of Deſtiny.

Qu. True: when auoſed grace makes Deſtiny.

My Babes were deſtin'd to a fairer death,
If grace had bleſſed thee with a fairer life.

Rich. You ſpeake as if that I had ſaine my Coſins?

Qu. Coſins indeed, and by their Vnckle couzend,
Of Comfort, Kingdome, Kindred, Freedome, Life,
Whose hand ſouer lanch'd their tender hearts,
Thy head (all indireſtly) gaue direction.

No doubt the murd'rous Knife was dull and blunt,
Till it was whetted on thy ſtone-hard heart,

To reuell in the Intrailes of my Lambes.

But that ſtill ſve of greeſe, makes wilde greeſe tame,
My tongue ſhould to thy eares not name my Boyes,
Till that my Nayles were anchor'd in thine eyes.

And I in ſuch a deſp'rate Bay of death,
Like a poore Barke, of ſailes and tackling reſt,
Rush all to peeces on thy Rocky boſome.

Rich. Madam, ſo thrive I in my enterprize

And dangerous ſucceſſe of bloody warres,
As Iintend more good to you and yours,
Then euer you and yours by me were harm'd.

Qu. What good is couer'd with the face of heauen,
To be diſcouered, that can do me good.

Rich. Th'aduancement of your children, gentle Lady

Qu. Vp to ſome Scaſſold, there to loſe their heads.

Rich. Vnto the dignity and height of Fortune,

The high Imperiall Type of this earths glory.

Qu. Flatter my ſorrow with report of it:

Tell me, what State, what Dignity, what Honor,
Canſt thou demife to any childe of mine.

Rich. Euen all I haue; I, and my ſelfe and all,
Will I withall indow a childe of thine:

So in the Lethe of thy angry ſoule,

Thou drowne the ſad remembrance of those wrongs,
Which thou ſuppofeſt I haue done to thee.

Qu. Be breeſe, leaſt that the proceſſe of thy kindneſſe
Laſt longer telling then thy kindneſſe date.

Rich. Then know,

That from my Soule, I loue thy Daughter.

Qu. My daughters Mother thinkes it with her ſoule.

Rich. What do you thinke?

Qu. That thou doſt loue my daughter from thy ſoule
So from thy Soules loue didſt thou loue her Brothers,
And from my hearts loue, I do thanke thee for it.

Rich. Be not ſo haſtly to confound my meaning:
I meane that with my Soule I loue thy daughter,

And do intend to make her Queene of England.

Qu. Well then, who doſt y meane shallbe her King.

Rich. Euen he that makes her Queene:

Who eſſe should bee?

Qu. What, thou?

Rich. Euen to: How thinke you of it?

Qu. How canſt thou woo her?

Rich. That I would leane of you,

As one being beſt acquainted with her humour.

Qu. And wilt thou leane of me?

Rich. Madam, with all my heart.

Qu. Send to her by the man that flew her Brothers,
A paire of bleeding hearts: thereon ingraue

Edward and Yorke, then haply will ſhe weepe:
Therefore prefent to her, as sometime Margaret

Did to thy Father, ſteep in Rutlands blood,

A hand-kercheefe, which ſay to her did dreyne

The purple ſappe from her ſweet Brothers body,

And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withall.

If this inducement moue her not to loue,

Send her a Letter of thy Noble deeds:

Tell her, thou mad'ft away her Vnckle Clarence,
Her Vnckle Riuers, I (and for her ſake)

Mad'ſt quicke conueyance with her good Aunt Anne.

Rich. You mocke me Madam, this not the way

To win your daughter.

Qu. There is no other way,
Vnſeſſe thou could'ſt put on ſome other ſhape,
And not be Richard, that hath done all this.

Rich. Say that I did all this for loue of her.

Qu. Nay then indeed ſhe cannot choose but hate thee
Having bought loue, with ſuch a bloody ſpoyle.

Rich. Looke what is done, cannot be now amended:
Men ſhall deale vnaduisedly sometimes,
Which after-houres giues leyſure to repent.

If I did take the Kingdome from your Sonnes,
To make amends, Ile give it to your daughter:

If I haue kill'd the iſſue of your wombe,
To quicken your encreaſe, I will beget

Mine iſſue of your blood, vpon your Daughter:

A Grandams name is little leſſe in loue,

Then is the doting Title of a Mother;

They are as Children but one ſteppe below,
Euen of your mettall, of your very blood:

Of all one paine, ſaue for a night of groanes

Endur'd of her, for whom you bid like ſorrow.

Your Children were vexation to your youth,

But

198

But mine shall be a comfort to your Age,
The loſſe you haue, is but a Sonne being King,
And by that loſſe,your Daughter is made Queene.
I cannot make you what amends I would,
Therefore accept ſuch kindneſſe as I can.
Dorſet your Sonne, that with a fearfull ſoule
Leads diſcontented ſteppes in Forraine ſoyle,
This faire Alliance, quickly ſhall call home
To high Promotions, and great Dignity.
The King that calles your beauteous Daughter Wife,
Familiarly ſhall call thy Dorſet, Brother :

Againe ſhall you be Mother to a King:
And all the Ruines of diſtrefſe full Times,
Repay'd with double Riches of Content.
What? we haue many goodly dayes to ſee :
The liquid drops of Teares that you haue ſhed,
Shall come againe, transform'd to Orient Pearle,
Aduantaging their Loue, with interest
Often-times double gaine of happineſſe.
Go then (my Mother) to thy Daughter go,
Make bold her baſhfull yeares, with your experience,
Prepare her eares to heare a Woers Tale.
Put in her tender heart, th'aspiring Flame
Of Golden Soueraignty: Acquaint the Princeſſe
With the ſweet ſilent houres of Marriage ioyes:
And when this Arme of mine hath chafſted
The petty Rebell, dull-brain'd Buckingham,
Bound with Triumphant Garlands will I come,
And leade thy daughter to a Conquerors bed :
To whom I will retaire my Conqueſt wonne,
And ſhe ſhalbe ſole Victoreſſe, Caſars Caſar.

Qu. What were I beſt to ſay, her Fathers Brother
Would be her Lord? Or, shall I ſay her Vnkle ?
Or he that ſlew her Brothers, and her Vnkles ?
Vnder what Title ſhall I woo for thee,
That God, the Law, my Honor, and her Loue,
Can make ſeeme pleasing to her tender yeares?

Rich. Inſerre faire Englands peace by this Allianſe.
Qu. Which ſhe ſhall purchase with ſtil laſting warre.

Rich. Tell her, the King that may command, intreats.

Qu. That at her hands, which the kings King forbids.

Rich. Say ſhe ſhall be a High and Mighty Queene.

Qu. To vail the Title, as her Mother doth.

Rich. Say I will loue her euerlaſtingly.

Qu. But how long ſhall that title euer laſt ?

Rich. Sweetly in force, vnto her faire lives end.

Qu. But how long faireſt ſhall her ſweet life laſt ?

Rich. As long as Heauen and Nature lengthens it.

Qu. As long as Hell and Richard likes of it.

Rich. Say, I her Soueraigne, am her Subieſt low.

Qu. But the your Subieſt, lothes ſuch Soueraignty.

Rich. Be eloquent in my behalſe to her.

Qu. An honest tale ſpeeds beſt, being plainly told.

Rich. Then plainly to her, tell my louing tale.

Qu. Plaine and not honest, is too harſh a ſtyle.

Rich. Your Reaſons are too ſhallow, and to quicke.

Qu. O no, my Reaſons are too deepe and dead,
Too deepe and dead (poore Infants) in their graues,
Harpe on it ſill ſhall I, till heart'strings breake.

Rich. Harpe not on that ſtring Madam, that is paſſ.

Now by my George, my Garter, and my Crowne.

Qu. Prophan'd, diſhonor'd, and the third vſurpt.

Rich. I ſweare.

Qu. By nothing, for this is no Oath :
Thy George prophan'd, hath loft his Lordly Honor;
Thy Garter blemiſh'd, pawn'd his Knightly Vertue ;

Thy Crowne vſurpt'd, diſgrac'd his Kingly Gloriar
If something thou would'ſt ſweare to be beleeu'd,
Sweare then by something, that thou haſt not wrong'd.

Rich. Then by my ſelſe.

Qu. Thy ſelſe, is thy ſelſe-miſvs'd.

Rich. Now by the World.

Qu. 'Tis full of thy ſoule wrongs.

Rich. My Fathers death.

Qu. Thy life hath it diſhonori'd.

Rich. Why then, by Heauen.

Qu. Heanens wrong is moſt of all:

If thou didd ſt ſeare to breake an Oath with him,
The vnity the King my husband made,
Thou hadt not broken, nor my Brothers died.
If thou hadt ſear'd to breake an oath by him,
Th'Imperiall metall, circling now thy head,
Had grac'd the tender temples of my Child,
And both the Princes had bene breathing heere,
Which now two tender Bed-fellowes for duſt,
Thy broken Faith hath made the prey for Wormes.
What can't thou ſweare by now.

Rich. The time to come.

Qu. That thou haſt wronged in the time ore-paſſ:
For I my ſelſe haue many teares to waſh
Hereafter time, for time paſſ, wrong'd by thee,
The Children liue, whole Fathers thou haſt ſlaughte'd,
Vngouern'd youth, to waile it with their age:
The Parents liue, whole Children thou haſt buſchelt,
Old barren Plants, to waile it with their Age,
Sweare not by time to come, for that thou haſt
Miſvs'd ere vs'd, by times ill-vs'd repaſſ.

Rich. As I intend to proper, and repent:
So thrive I in my dangerous Affayres
Of hoftile Armes: My ſelſe, my ſelſe confound:
Heauen, and Fortune barre me happy houres:
Day, yeeld me not thy light; nor Night, thy reſt.
Be oppoſite all Planets of good lucke
To my proceeding, if with deere hearts loue,
Immaculate deuotion, holy thoughts,
I tender not thy beautious Princely daughter.
In her, confiſſes my Happineſſe, and thine :
Without her, followes to my ſelſe, and thee;
Her ſelſe, the Land, and many a Chriſtian ſoule,
Death, Defolation, Ruine, and Decay :
It cannot be auoyded, but by this :
It will not be auoyded, but by this.
Therefore deare Mother (I muſt call you so)
Be the Attune of my loue to her:
Pleade what I will be, not what I haue beene;
Not my deferts, but what I will deferue:
Vrge the Necessity and ſtate of times,
And be not peeviſh found, in great Deſignes.

Qu. Shall I be tempted of the Diuell thus?

Rich. I, if the Diuell tempt you to do good.

Qu. Shall I forget my ſelſe, to be my ſelſe.

Rich. I, if your ſelſes remembrance wrong your ſelſe.

Qu. Yet thou didd kil your Children.

Rich. But in your daughters wombe I bury them.
Where in that Neſt of Spicery they will breed
Selues of themſelues, to your recomforture.

Qu. Shall I go win my daughter to thy will?

Rich. And be a happy Mother by the deed.

Qu. I go, write to me very ſhorlly,
And you ſhal vnderſand from me her mind.
Exu Qu

Rich. Beare her my true loues kiffe, and ſo farewell.
Relenting Foole, and ſhallow-changing Woman.
Hou

Hou

199

How now, what newes ?

Enter Ratcliffe.

Rat. Moſt mightie Soueraigne, on the Westerne Coaſt
Ridech a puſſant Nauie : to our Shores
Throng many doubtfull hollow-hearted friends,
Vnaſt'd, and vnrefolu'd to beat them backe.
Tis thought, that Richmond is their Admirall :
And there they hull, expecting but the aide
Of Buckingham, to welcome them affore.

Rich. Some light-foot friend poſt to ſy Duke of Norfolk:
Ratcliffe thy ſelfe, or Catesby, where is hee ?

Cat. Here, my good Lord.

Rich. Catesby, flye to the Duke.

Cat. I will, my Lord, with all conuenient haſte.

Rich. Catesby come hither, poſte to Salisbury:

When thou com'st thither: Dull vnmindfull Villain,
Why stay't thou here, and go't not to the Duke ?

Cat. First, mighty Liege, tell me your Highneſſe pleaſure,
What from your Grace I ſhall deliuer to him.

Rich. O true, good Catesby, bid him leuie ſtraight
The greatest ſtrength and power that he can make,
And meet me suddenly at Salisbury.

Cat. I goe.

Exit.

Rich. What, may it pleafe you, I ſhall I doe at Salis-
bury ?

Rich. Why, what would it thou doe there, before I
goe?

Rich. Your Highneſſe told me I ſhould poſte before.

Rich. My minde is chang'd:

Enter Lord Stanley.

Stanley, what newes with you ?

Sta. None, good my Liege, to pleafe you with ſy hearing,
Nornone ſo bad, but well may be reported.

Rich. Hoyday, a Riddle, neither good nor bad:

What need it thou runne ſo many miles about,
When thou mayeſt tell thy Tale the neereſt way ?

Once more, what newes ?

Sta. Richmond is on the Seas.

Rich. There let him ſinke, and be the Seas on him,
White-luier'd Runnagate, what doth he there ?

Rich. I know not, mightie Soueraigne, but by gueſſe.

Rich. Well, as you gueſſe.

Rich. Stirr'd vp by Dorſet, Buckingham, and Morton,
He makes for England, here to clayme the Crowne.

Rich. Is the Chayre emptied? is the Sword vnſway'd?
Is the King dead? the Empire vnpoſſeited?

Rich. What Heire of Torke is there aliuie, but wee?

Rich. And who is Englands King, but great Torkes Heire ?

Rich. Then tell me, what makes he upon the Seas ?

Rich. Vnleſſe for that, my Liege, I cannot gueſſe.

Rich. Vnleſſe for that he comes to be your Liege,
You cannot gueſſe wherefore the Welchman comes.

Rich. Thou wilt reuolt, and flye to him, I feare.

Rich. No, my good Lord, therefore miſtruſt me not.

Rich. Where is thy Power then, to beat him back?

Rich. Where be thy Tenants, and thy followers?

Rich. Are they not now upon the Westerne Shore,

Safe-conducting the Rebels from their Shippes?

Rich. No, my good Lord, my friends are in the
North.

Rich. Cold friends to me: what do they in the North,
When they should ferue their Soueraigne in the West?

Rich. They haue not been commanded, mighty King:
Pleaſeth your Maieſtie to giue me leaue,
Ile muſter vp my friends, and meet your Grace,
Where, and what time your Maieſtie ſhall plearſe.

Rich. I, thou would'ſt be gone, to ioyne with Richmond:
But Ile not truſt thee.

Rich. Moſt mightie Soueraigne,
You haue no cauſe to hold my friendſhip doubtfull,
I neuer was, nor neuer will be false.

Rich. Goe then, and muſter men: but leaue behind
Your Sonne George Stanley: looke your heart be firme,
Or else his Heads affurance is but fraile.

Rich. So deale with him, as I proue true to you.

Exit Stanley.

Enter a Messanger.

Rich. My gracious Soueraigne, now in Deuonſhire,
As I by friends am well aduertified,

Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughtie Prelate,
Bifhop of Exeter, his elder Brother,
With many moe Confederates, are in Armes.

Enter another Messanger.

Rich. In Kent, my Liege, the Guilfords are in Armes,
And every houre more Competitors

Flocke to the Rebels, and their power growes ſtrong.

Enter another Messanger.

Rich. My Lord, the Armie of great Buckingham.

Rich. Out on ye, O wles, nothing but Songs of Death,
He striketh him.

There, take thou that, till thou bring better newes.

Rich. The newes I haue to tell your Maieſtie,
Is, that by ſudden Floods, and fall of Waters,

Buckingham's Armie is diſpers'd and ſcatter'd,

And he himselfe wandred away alone,

No man knowes whither.

Rich. I cry thee mercie:
There is my Purſe, to cure that Blow of thine.

Hath any well-adiuſed friend proclaym'd

Reward to him that brings the Traytor in ?

Rich. Such Proclamation hath been made, my Lord.

Enter another Messenger.

Rich. Sir Thomas Louell, and Lord Marquſſe Dorſet,
'Tis ſaid, my Liege, in Yorkeſhire are in Armes :
But this good comfort bring I to your Highneſſe,

The Brittaine Nauie is diſpers'd by Tempeſt.
Richmond in Dorſetshire ſent out a Boat

Vnto the shore, to aske thate on the Banks,
If they were his Aſſiſants, yea, or no?

Who anſwer'd him, they came from Buckingham,

Vpon his partie: he miſtruſting them,

Hoys'd ſayle, and made his courſe againe for Brittaine.
Rich. March on, march on, ſince we are vp in Armes,

If not to fight with forraigne Enemies,

Yet to beat downe theſe Rebels here at home.

Enter Catesby.

Rich. My Liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken,
That is the beſt newes: that the Earle of Richmond

15

The Life and death of Richard the Third.

201

Let's Jacke no Discipline, make no delay,
For Lords, to morrow is a buſe day.

Exeunt

Enter Richmond, Sir William Brandon, Oxford, and Dorset.

Richm. The weary Sunne, hath made a Golden set,
And by the bright Tract of his fiery Carre,
Gues token of a goodly day to morrow.

Sir William Brandon, you shall beare my Standard :
Gue me fome Inke and Paper in my Tent:

Ile draw the Forme and Modell of our Battailc,
Limit each Leaſder to his feuerall Charge,
And part in inſt proportion our ſmall Power.

My Lord of Oxford, you Sir William Brandon,
And your Sir Walter Herbert stay with me:

The Earle of Pembroke keepes his Regiment ;

Good Captaine Blunt, beare me a goodnight to him,
And by the ſecond houre in the Morning,

Desire the Earle to ſee me in my Tent :

Yet one thing more (good Captaine) do for me :

Where is Lord Stanley quarter'd, do you know?

Blunt. Vnleſſe I haue miſtane his Colours much,
(Which well I am ſuffur'd I haue not done)

His Regiment lies halfe a Mile at leaſt
South, from the mighty Power of the King.

Richm. If without perill it be poſſible,
Sweet Blunt, make ſome good meanes to ſpeak with him
And giue him from me, this moſt needfull Note.

Blunt. Vpon my life, my Lord, Ile vndertake it,
And to God giue you quiet reſt to night.

Richm. Good night good Captaine Blunt :

Come Gentlemen,

Let vs confult vpon to morrowes Buſineſſe ;

Into my Tent, the Dew is rawe and cold.

They withdraw into the Tent.

Enter Richard, Ratcliffe, Norfolke, & Catesby.

Rich. What is't a Clocke?

Cat. It's Supper time my Lord, it's nine a clocke.

King. I will not ſup to night,

Gue me ſome Inke and Paper :

What, is my Beauer eſier then it was?

And all my Armour laid into my Tent?

Cat. It is my Liege : and all things are in readineſſe.

Rich. Good Norfolke, bye thee to thy charge,

Vie careful Watch, chooſe truſty Centinels,

Nor. I goe my Lord.

Rich. Sir with the Laike to morrow, gentle Norfolk.

Nor. I warrant you my Lord.

Rich. Ratcliffe.

Rat. My Lord.

Rich. Send out a Purſuuant at Armes

To Stanleys Regiment : bid him bring his power
Before Sun-riling, leaſt his Sonne George fall
Into the blinde Caue of eternall night.

Fill me a Bowle of Wine: Giue me a Watch,
Saddle white Surrey for the Field to morrow:

Look that my Staues be found, & not too heavy. Ratcliffe.
Rat. My Lord.

Rich. Saw ſt the melancholy Lord Northumberland?

Rat. Thomas the Earle of Surrey, and himſelfe,
Much about Cockſhut time, from Troope to Troope
Went through the Army, chearing vp the Souldiers.

King. So, I am ſatisfied: Giue me a Bowle of Wine,
I haue not that Alacrity of Spirit,

Nor cheere of Minde that I was want to haue.
Set it downe. Is Inke and Paper ready ?

Rat. It is my Lord.

Rich. Bid my Guard watch. Leaue me.

Ratcliffe, about the mid of night come to my Tent

And helpe to arme me. Leaue me I lay.

Exit Ratcliffe.

Enter Derby to Richmond in his Tent.

Der. Fortune, and Victory fit on thy Helme.

Rich. All comfort that the darke night can aftoord,
Be to thy Person, Noble Father in Law.

Tell me, how fares our Noble Mother ?

Der. I by Attourney, bleſſe thee from thy Mother,
Who prayes continually for Richmonds good:

So much for that. The ſilent hours ſteale on,

And flakie darkeneſſe breaks within the Eaſt.

In breeſe, for so the ſeason bids vs be,

Prepare thy Battell early in the Morning,

And put thy Fortune to th'Arbitrement

Of bloody Groakes, and mortall staring Warre :

I, as I may, that which I would. I cannot,

With beſt ajuantage will deceiue the time,

And ayde thee in this doubtfull Flocke of Armes.

But on thy ſide I may not be too forward,

Leaſt being ſeene, thy Brother, tender George

Be executed in his Fathers ſight.

Farewell the ley ſure, and the ſteafull time

Cuts off the ceremonious Vowes of Loue,

And ample enterchange of ſweet Discourse,

Which ſo long fundred Friends should dwell vpon:

God give vs ley ſure for theſe rites of Loue.

Once more Adieu, be valiant, and ſpeed well.

Richm. Good Lords conduct him to his Regiment :
Ile ſtruiue with troubled noife, to take a Nap,

Left leaden lumber peize me downe to morrow,

When I should mount with wings of Victory :

Once more, good night kinde Lords and Gentlemen.

Exeunt. Manet Richmond.

O thou, whoſe Captaine I account my ſelfe,

Looke on my Forces with a gracious eye :

Put in their hands thy bruiſing Irons of wrath,

That they may crush downe with a heavy fall,

Th'urping Helmets of our Aduerfaries :

Make vs thy minifters of Chafitement,

That we may praisc thee in thy victory :

To thee I do commend my watchfull ſoule,

Ere I let fall the windowes of mine eyes :

Sleeping, and waking, oh defend me full.

Sleeps.

Enter the Choff of Prince Edward, Sonne to Henry the fixt.

Ch. to Ri. Let me fit heauy on thy ſoule to morrow :

Thinke how thou ſtab'ſt me in my prime of youth

At Teukesbury : Diſpaire therefore, and dye.

Choff to Richm. Be chearefull Richmond,

For the wronged Soules

Of butcher'd Princes, fight in thy behalſe :

King Henries illue Richmond comforts thee.

Enter the Choff of Henry the fixt.

Choff. When I was mortall, my Annointed body
By thee was punched full of holes ;

Thinke on the Tower, and me: Diſpaire, and dye,

Harry the fixt, bids thee diſpaire, and dye.

To Richm. Vertuous and holy be thou Conqueror :

Harry that propheſed thou should'ſt be King,
Doth comfort thee in ſleepe: Liue, and flourish.

Enter

202

Enter the Ghost of Clarence.

Ghoſt. Let me fit heauy in thy ſoule to morrow.
I that was wath'd to death with Fultome Wine :
Poore Clarence by thy guile betray'd to death:
To morrow in the battell thinke on me,
And fall thy edgeleſſe Sword, diſpaire and dye.
To Richm. Thou off-lpring of the houte of Lancafter

To Richm. Thou off-lpring of the houte of Lancafter
The wronged heyres of Yorke do pray for thee,
Good Angels guard thy battell, Liue and Flourish.

Enter the Ghoſts of Riuers, Gray, and Vaughan.

Riu. Lee me fit heauy in thy ſoule to morrow,
Riuers, that dy'd at Pomfret: diſpaire, and dye.
Grey. Thinke vpon Grey, and let thy ſoule diſpaire.

Grey. Thinke vpon Grey, and let thy ſoule diſpaire.
Vaugh. Thinke vpon Vaughan, and with guilty ſeaſe

Vangb. Thinke vpon Vaughan, and with guilty ſeaſe
Let fall thy Lance, diſpaire and dye.

All to Richm. Awake,

And thinke our wrongs in Richards Boſome,
Will conquer him. Awake, and win the day.

Enter the Ghoſt of Lord Haſtings.

Ghoſt. Bloody and guilty: guilty awake,
And in a bloody Battell end thy dayes.

Thinke on Lord Haſtings: diſpaire, and dye.

Haſt. to Rich. Quiet vntroubled ſoule,

Awake, awake:

Arme, fight, and conquer, for faire Englands ſake.

Enter the Ghoſts of the two yong Princes.

Ghoſts. Dreame on thy Cousins.

Smothered in the Tower :

Let vs be laid within thy boſome Richard,
And weigh thee downe to ruine, ſhame, and death,
Thy Nephewes ſoule bids thee diſpaire and dye.

Ghoſts to Richm. Sleepe Richmond,

Sleepe in Peace, and wake in Ioy,
Good Angels guard thee from the Boares annoy,
Liue, and beget a happy race of Kings.

Edwards vnhappy Sonnes, do bid thee flourish.

Enter the Ghoſt of a Anne, his Wife.

Ghoſt to Rich. Richard, thy Wife,

That wretched Anne thy Wife,
That neuer flept a quiet houre with thee,
Now filles thy sleepe with perturbations,
To morrow in the Battaille, thinke on me,
And fall thy edgeleſſe Sword, diſpaire and dye.

Ghoſt to Richm. Thou quiet ſoule,

Sleepe thou a quiet sleepe:
Dreame of Succeſſe, and Happy Victory,
Thy Aduerfaries Wife doth pray for thee.

Enter the Ghoſt of Buckingham.

Ghoſt to Rich. The firſt was I

That help'd thee to the Crowne :
The laſt was I that felt thy Tyranny.
O, in the Battaille think on Buckingham,
And dye in terror of thy guiltineſſe.

Dreame on, dreame on, of bloody deeds and death,
Fainting diſpaire; diſpairing yeeld thy breath.

Ghoſt to Richm. I dyed for hope
Ere I could lend thee Ayde;
But cheere thy heart, and be thou not diſmayde:
God, and good Angels fight on Richmonds ſide,
And Richard fall in height of all his pride.

Richard flirts out of his dreame.

Rich. Giue me another Horſe, bind vp my Wounds:
Haue mercy leſt. Soft. I did but dreame.

O coward Conſience! how doſt thou afflіct me?
The Lights burne blew. It is not dead midnight.
Cold ſcarefull drops stand on my trembling fleſh.

What? do I feare my ſelfe? There's none else by,
Richard loues Richard, that is, I am I.

Is there a Murtherer here? No; Yes, I am:
Then flye; What from my ſelfe? Great reaſon: why?
Left I Reuenge. What? my ſelfe vpon my ſelfe?
Alacke, I loue my ſelfe. Wherefore? For any good
That I my ſelfe, haue done vnto my ſelfe?

O no. Alas, I rather hate my ſelfe,
For hatefull Deeds committed by my ſelfe.
I am a Villaine: yet 1 Lye, I am not.

Foole, of thy ſelfe ſpeake well: Foole, do not flatter,
My Conſience hath a thouſand ſeverall Tongues,
And euery Tongue brings in a ſeverall Tale,
And querie Tale condemnes me for a Villaine;
Periurie, in the high/ft Degree,

Murther, ſlerne murther, in the dy'r/ft degree,
All ſeverall finnes, all vs d in each degree,
Throng all to'th'Barre, crying all, Guilty, Guilty,
I ſhall diſpaire, there is no Creature loues me;
And if I die, no ſoule ſhall pittie me.

Nay, wherefore should they ? Since that I my ſelfe,
Finde in my ſelfe, no pittie to my ſelfe.

Me thought, the Soules of all that I had murther'd
Came to my Tent, and euery one did threat
To morrowes vengeance on the head of Richard.

Enter Ratcliffe.

Rat. My Lord.

King. Who's there?

Rat. Ratcliffe my Lord, 'tis I: the early Village Cock
Hath twice done falutation to the Morne,
Your Friends are vp, and buckle on their Armour,
King. O Ratcliffe, I feare, I feare.

Kat. Nay good my Lord, be not affaírd of Shadows.
King. By the Apoſtle Paul, if shadowes to night
Haue ſtoke more terror to the ſoule of Richard,
Then can the subſtance of ten thouſand Souldiers
Armed in proofe, and led by ſhallow Richmond.

'Tis not yet neere day. Come go with me,
Vnder our Tents Ile play the Eaſt-dropper,
To heare if any meane to ſhrinke from me.

Exeunt Richard & Ralſhſte.

Enter the Lords to Richmond sitting
in his Tent.

Richm. Good morrow Richmond,

Rich. Cry mercy Lords, and watchfull Gentlemen,
That you haue tane a tardie fluggard here?

Lords. How haue you flept my Lord?

Rich. The fweeteſt sleepe,
And faireſt boading Dreames,
That euer entred in a drowſe head,
Hae I ſince your departure had my Lords.

Rich. murther'd,
Me thought their Soules, whose bodies Rich. murther'd,
Came to my Tent, and cried on Victory:
I promife you my Heart is very iocond,
In the remembrance of ſo faire a dreame,
How farre into the Morning is it Lords?

Lor. Upon the ſtoke of foure.

Rich. Why then 'tis time to Arme, and giue direction.

His Oration to his Souldiers.

More then I haue ſaid, louing Countrymen,
The leyſure and inſforcement of the time

Forbids to dwell vpon: yet remember this,

God

203

God, and our good cause, fight upon our side,
The Prayers of holy Saints and wronged foules,
Like high reat'd Bulwarkes, and before our Faces,
(Richard except) thate whom we fight against,
Had rather haue vs win, then him they follow.
For, what is he they follow? Truly Gentlemen,
A bloudy Tyrant, and a Homicide:
One rais'd in blood, and one in blood establish'd;
One that made meanes to come by what he hath,
And laughter'd thate of those the meanes to help him:
A bafe foule Stone, made precious by the Coyle
Of Englands Chaire, where he is fatically set;
One that hath euer beene Gods Enemy.
Then if you fight against Gods Enemy,
God will in justice ward you as his Soldiers.
If you do sware to put a Tyrant downe,
You sleepe in peace, the Tyrant being flaine:
If you do fight against your Countries Foes,
Your Countries Fat shall pay your pames the byre.
If you do fight in safegard of your wiues,
Your wiues shall welcome home the Conquerors.
If you do free your Children from the Sword,
Your Childrens Children quits it in your Age.
Then in the name of God and all these rights,
Aduance your Standards, draw your willing Swords.
For me, the ranſome of my bold attempt,
Shall be this cold Corpes on the earth's cold face.
But if I thrine, the gaine of my attempt,
The leaſt of you ſhall share his part thereof.
Sound Drummes and Trumpets boldly, and cheerefully,
God, and Saint George, Richmond, and Victory.

Enter King Richard, Ratcliffe, and Catesby.

K. What faid Northumberland as touching Richmond?
Rat. That he was neuer trained vp in Armes.
King. He said the truth : and what faid Surrey then?
Rat. He ſmil'd and ſaid, the better for our purpoe.
King. Hews in the right, and ſo indeed it is.
Tell the clocke there.
Clocke strikes.

Gue me a Kalender : Who ſaw the Sunne to day?
Rat. Not I my Lord.
King. Then he difdaines to ſhine : for by the Booke
He should haue brau'd the Eaſt an houre ago,
A blacke day will it be to somebody.
Ratcliffe.
Rat. My Lord.
King. The Sun will not be ſene to day,
The sky doth frowne, and lowre upon our Army.
I would theſe dewy teares were from the ground.
Not thine to day ? Why, what is that to me
More then to Richmond ? For the ſelfe-fame Heauen
That frownes on me, lookse fadly upon him.

Enter Norſtolke.

Nor. Arme, arme, my Lord: the ſoe vaunts in the field.
King. Come, buſtle, buſtle. Caparifon my horſe.
Call vp Lord Stanley, bid him bring his power,
I will leade forth my Soldiers to the plaine,
And thus my Battell ſhal be ordred.
My Foreward shall be drawne in length,
Conſifting equally of Horſe and Foot:
Our Archers shall be placed in the midſt;
John Duke of Norſtolke, Thomas Earle of Surrey,
Shall haue the leading of the Foot and Horſe.
They thus directed, we will ſollow

In the maine Battell, whose puſſance on either side
Shall be well-winged with our cheeſet Horſe :
This, and Saint George to boote.
What think't thou Norſtolke,
Nor. A good direction warlike Soneraigne,
This found I on my Tent this Morning,
Jocke of Norſtolkes, be not so bold,
For Dickon thy mailer is brought and fold.
King. A thing devited by the Enemy.
Go Gentlemen, euery man to his Charge,
Let not our babling Dreames affright our foules:
For Conſcience is a word that Cowards vſe,
Deuis'd at first to keepe the ſtrong in awe,
Our ſtrong armes be our Conſcience, Swords our Law.
March on, ioyne braely, let vs too't pell mell,
If not to heauen, then hand in hand to Hell.
What ſhall I ſay more then I haue inferr'd?
Remember whom you are to cope withall,
A ſort of Vagabonds, Raſcals, and Run-awayes,
A ſcum of Britraines, and bafe Lackey Pezants,
Whom their o're-cloyed Country vomits forth
To desperate Aduentures, and aſſur'd Deſtruction.
You ſleeping ſaſe, they bring you to vnreſt :
You hauing Lands, and bleft with beauteous wiues,
They would reſtraine the one, diſtaine the other,
And who doth leade them, but a pa'try Fellow?
Long kept in Britaine at our Mothers coſt,
A Milke-fop, one that never in his life
Feſt so much cold, as ouer ſnooes in Snow:
Let's whip theſe ſtraglers o're the Seas againe,
Lash hence theſe ouer-weening Ragges of France,
Theſe famiſh'd Beggers, weary of thenes lues,
Who (but for dreaming on this ſond exploit)

For want of meanes (poore Rats) had hang'd them ſelues,
If we be conquered, let men conquer vs,
And not theſe baſtard Britaines, whom our Fathers
Haue in their owne Land beaten, bobb'd, and thump'd,
And on Record, left them the heires of ſhame.
Shall theſe enjoy our Lands? lye with our Wiues?
Rauiſh our daughters?
Hearke, I heare their Drumme,
Right Gentlemen of England, fight boldly yeomen,
Draw Archers draw your Arrowes to the head,
Spurre your proud Horſes hard, and ride in blood,
Amaze the welkin with your broken ſtaues,
Enter a Meſſenger.

What ſayes Lord Stanley, will he bring his power?
Mef. My Lord, he doth deny to come.
King. Oſſ with his ſonne Georges head.
Ner. My Lord, the Enemy is paſt the Maſſn :
After the bataile, let George Stanley dye.
King. A thouſand hearts are great within my boſom.
Aduance our Standards, ſet vpon our Foes,
Our Anſcient word of Courage, faire S. George
Inspire vs with the ſpleene of ſiety Dragons:
Vpon them, Victorie fits on our helpes.

Alarums, excursions. Enter Catesby.

Cat. Refcue my Lord of Norſtolke,
Refcue, Refcue:
The King enacts more wonders then a man,
Daring an oppoſite to euery danger :
His horſe is flaine, and all on foot he fightes,
Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death :
Refcue faire Lord, or eſſe the day is loſt.

Alarums.

t2

Enter

205

# The Famous History of the Life of
King HENRY the Eight.

## THE PROLOGUE.

Come no more to make you laugh, Things now,
That beare a Weighty, and a Serious Brow,
Sad, high, and working, full of State and woe:
Such Noble Scarnes, as draw the Eye to flow
Wenow precent. Thofe that can Pitty, beere
May (if they thinke it well) let fall a Teare,
The Subieſt will deferue it. Such as gine
The r Money out of hope they may beleeue,
May beere ſinde Truth tos. Thofe that come to ſee
Onely a ſhow or two, and ſo a gree,
The Play may pafſe: If they be ſtill, and willing,
Ile undertake my ſee away their ſbilling
Richly in two ſhort hours. Onely they
That come to beare a Merry, Bawdy Play,
A noyle of Targets: Or to ſee a Fellow
In a long Motley Coate, garaed with Yellow,

Will be decey'n'd. For gentle Hearers, know
To ranke our choſen Truth with ſuch a ſhow
As Foole, and ſight is, beſide forſetying
Our owne Braines, and the Opinion that we bring
To make that onely true, we now intend.
Will leave vs neuer an understanding Friend.
Therefore, for Goodneſſe fake, and as you are knowne
To the First and Happiest Hearers of the Towne,
Be ſad, as we would make ye. Thinkeye ſee
The very Perſons of our Noble Story,
As they were Luiuing: Thinke you ſee them Great,
And ſollow'd with the generall throng, and ſweat
Of thou and Friends: Then, in a moment, ſee
How ſoone this Michtineſſe, meets Misery :
And if you can be merry then, Ile ſay,
A Man may weep upon his Wedding day.

## Actus Primus. Scena Prima.

Enter the Duke of Norſtolke at one door. At the other,
the Duke of Buckingham, and the Lord
Aburganenny.

### Buckingham.

Ood morrow, and well met. How haue ye done
since laſt we ſaw in France?
Norſ. I thanke your Grace:
Healthfull, and euer ſince a fresh Admirer
Of what I ſaw there.

### Buck. An vntimely Ague

Said me a Prifoner in my Chamber, when
Thofe Sunnes of Glory, thofe two Lights of Men
Met in the vale of Andren.

Nor. 'Twixt Guynes and Arde,
I was then preſent, ſaw them ſalute on Horſebacke,
Beheld them when they lighted, how they clung
In their Embracement, as they grew together,
Which had they,
What ſoure Thron'd ones could haue weigh'd
Such a compounded one?

Buck. All the whole time
I was my Chambers Prifoner.

### Nor. Then you loft

The view of earthly glory: Men might ſay
Till this time Pompe was ſingle, but now married
To one aboue it ſelfe. Each following day
Became the next dayes maſter, till the laſt
Made former Wonders, it's. To day the French,
All Clinquant all in Gold, like Heathen Gods
Shone downe the English; and to morrow, they
Made Britaine, India: Every man that flood,
Shew'd like a Mine. Their Dwarſfish Pages were
As Cherubins, all gilt: the Madams too,
Not vs'd to toyle, did almost ſweat to beare
The Pride vpon them, that their very labour
Was to them, as a Painting. Now this Maske
Was cry'd incomparable; and thenſuing night
Made it a Foole, and Begger. The two Kings
Equall in luſtre, were now beſt, now worſt
As prefence did preſent them: Him in eye,
Still him in praiſe, and being preſent both,
'Twas ſaid they ſaw but one, and no Difcerner
Durſt wagge his Tongue in cenſure, when theſe Sunnes
(For to they phraſe 'em) by their Heralds challdg'd
The Nobie Spirits to Armes, they did performe

t 3

Beyond

The Life of King Henry the Eight.

Beyond thoughts Compasse, that former fabulous Story
Being now seene, posſible enough, got credit
That Beau was beleeu'd.

Buc. Oh you go farre.

Nor. As I belong to worſhip, and affect
In Honor, Honesty, the tract of eu'ry thing,
Would by a good Difcourser loose some life,
Which Actions ſelfe, was tongue too.

Buc. All was Royall,

To the diſpoſing of it nought rebelld,
Order gaue each thing view. The Office did
Difſinently his full Function : who did guide,
I meane who fet the Body, and the Limbes
Of this great Sport together?

Nor. As you gueſſe:
One certes, that promifes no Element
In ſuch a buſineſſe.

Buc. I pray you who, my Lord?

Nor. All this was ordred by the good Discretion
Of the right Reuerend Cardinall of Yorke.

Buc. The diuell ſpeed him: No mans Pye is freed
From his Ambitious finger. What had he
to do in these ſierce Vanities? I wonder,
That ſuch a Keech can with his very bulke
Take vp the Rayes o'th'beneficiall Sun,
And keepe it from the Earth.

Nor. Surely Sir,
There's in him ſtuffe, that put's him to theſe ends:
For being not propt by Aunceſtry, whole grace
Chalkes Successors their way ; nor call'd upon
For high ſeats done to'th'Crowne; neither Allied
To eminent Aſſaſtans ; but Spider-like
Out of his ſelſe-drawing Web. O gues vs note,
The force of his owne merit makes his way
A guift that heauen giues for him, which buyes
A place next to the King.

Abur. I cannot tell

What Heauen haſh giuen him: let ſome Grauer eye
Pierce into that, but I can ſee his Pride
Peepe through each part of him: whence ha's he that,
If not from Hell? The Diuell is a Niggard,
Or ha's giuen all before, and he begins
A new Hell in himſelfe.

Buc. Why the Diuell,

Vpon this French going out, tooke he vpon him
(Without the priuity o'th'King) t'appoint
Who ſhould attend on him? He makes vp the File
Of all the Gentry; for the moſt part ſuch
To whom as great a Charge, as little Honor
He meant to lay vpon : and his owne Letter
The Honourable Boord of Councell, out
Muſt fetch him in, he Papers.

Abur. I do know

Kinfmen of mine, three at the leaſt, that haue
By this, to ſicken'd their Eſtates, that neuer
They ſhall abound as formerly.

Buc. O many

Hauе broke their backes with laying Mannors on 'em
For this great Journey. What did this vanity
But minifter communication of
A moſt poore iffue.

Nor. Greetingly I thinke,
The Peace betweene the French and vs, not valewes
The Coſt that did conclude it.

Buc. Every man,
After the hideous ſtorme that follow'd, was

A thing Inſpir'd, and not confulting, broke
Into a generall Prophéſe; That this Tempeſt
Daſhing the Garment of this Peace, aboaded
The ſodaine breach on't.

Nor. Which is budded out,

For France hath flaw'd the League, and hath attach'd
Our Merchants goods at Burdeux.

Abur. Is it therefore?

Th'Ambaſſador is ſilenc'd?

Nor. Marry is't.

Abur. A proper Title of a Peace, and purchas'd.
At a ſuperfluous rate.

Buc. Why all this Buſineſſe
Our Reuerend Cardinall carried.

Nor. Like it your Grace,

The State takes notice of the priuate difference
Betwixt you, and the Cardinall. I aduife you
(And take it from a heart, that wifhes towards you
Honor, and plenteous safety) that you reade
The Cardinals Malice, and his Potency
Together; To consider further, that
What his high Hatred would effect, wants not
A Minifter in his Power. You know his Nature,
That he's Reuengefull; and I know, his Sword
Hath a ſharpe edge: It's long, and't may be ſaide
It reaches farre, and where 'twill not extend,
Thither he darts it. Boſome vp my counſell,
You'll find it wholeſome. Loc, where comes that Rock
That I aduice your ſhunning..

Enter Cardinall Wolveſy, the Purſe borne before him, curaie of the Guard, and two Secretaries with Papers: The Cardinall in his paſſage, fixeth his eye on Buck-bam, and Buckingham on him, both full of diſdaine.

Car. The Duke of Buckingham's Surueyor? Ha?

Where's his Examination?

Secr. Heere to pleaſe you.

Car. Is he in perſon, ready?

Secr. I, pleafe vour Grace,

Car. Well, we ſhall then know more, & Buckingham,
Shall ieffen this bigge looke.

Exeunt Cardinall, and his Traine.

Buc. This Butchers Curre is venom'd-mouth'd, and I
Hauе not the power to muſſule him, therefore beſt
Not wake him in his ſlumber. A Beggers booke,
Out-worths a Nobles blood.

Nor. What are you chaff'd?

Aske God for Temp'rance, that's th'appliance only
Which your diſeafe requires.

Buc. I read in's looks

Matter againſt me, and his eye reuil'd
Me as his abieſt obieſt, at this inſant
He bores me with ſome tricke; He's gone to'ch'King:
Ile follow, and out-flare him.

Nor. Stay my Lord,
And let your Reaſon with your Choller queſtion
What 'tis you go about : to clime ſteep e hilles
Requires flow pace at firſt. Anger is like
A full hot Horſe, who being allow'd his way
Sefle-mettle tyres him : Not a man in England
Can aduife me like you: Be to your ſelſe,
As you would to your Friend.

Buc. Ile to the King,
And from a mouth of Honor, quite cry downe

This

207

The Ipswich fellowes insolence; or proclaime,
There's difference in no persons.

Norf. Be aduif'd.

Heat not a Furnace for your fee so hot
That it do find your selfe. We may out-runne
By violent twittneſſe, which we run at;
And lose by ouer-running: know you nor,
The fire that mounts the liquor til't run ore,
In feeming to augment it, waſts it: be aduif'd;
If you againe there is no English Soule
More stronger to direct you then your ſelfe;
If with the ſap of reaſon you would quench,
Or but allay the fire of paſſion.

Busk. Sir,

I am thankful to you, and He goe along

By your preſcription: but this top-proud ſellow,
Whom from the flow of gall I name not, but
From ſincere motions, by Intelligence,
And proofes as cleere as Founts in Iuſy, when
Wee fee each graine of grauell; I doe know
To be corrupt and treaſonous.

Norf. Say not treaſonous.

Buck. To th' King He ſay't, & make my vouch as strong
As shore of Rocke: attend. This holy Foxe,
Or Wolfe, or both (for he is equall rau'nous
As he is ſubtle, and as prone to miſchieſe,
As able to perform't) his minde, and place
Inſecting one another, yea reciprocally,
O only to ſhew his pompe, as well in France,
As here at home, ſuggeſts the King our Maſter
To this laſt costly Treaty: Th' enteruiew,
That ſwallowed so much treaſure, and like a glaſſe
Did breake it wrenching.

Norf. Faith, and so it did.

Buck. Pray give me ſaure Sir: This cunning Cardinall
The Articles o'th' Combination drew
As himselfe pleas'd; and they were ratified
As he cride thus let be, to as much end,
Argue a Crutch to th' dead. But our Count-Cardinall
Has done this, and tis well: for worthy *Wolſey*
(Who cannot erre) he did it. Now this followes,
(Which as I take it, is a kinde of Puppie
To th' old dam Treſon) *Charles the Emperour,*
Vader pretence to fee the *Queene his Aunt,*
(For twas indeed his colour, but he came
To whisſer *Wolſey*) here makes viſitation,
His ſeaſures were that the *Interview betwixt*
England and France, might through their amity
Breed him ſome preiudice; for from this League,
Peep'd harmes that menac'd him. Priuily
Deales with our Cardinal, and as I troa
Which I doe well; for I am ſute the Emperour
Paid ere he promis'd, whereby his Suit was granted
Ere it was ask'd. But when the way was made
And pa'u'd with gold: the *Emperor thus defir'd,*
Tha he would please to alter the Kings course,
And breake the forefaid peace. Let the King know
(As ſoone he ſhall by me) that thus the Cardinall
Does buy and ſell his Honour as he pleases,
And for his owne aduantage.

Norf. I am forſy

To heare this of him; and could wifh he were
Something miſſaken in't.

Buck. No, nor a fillable:

I doe pronounce him in that very ſhape
He ſhall appeare in proofe.

Enter Brandon, a Sergeant at Armes before him, and
two or three of the Guard.

Brandon. Your Office Sergeant: execute it.
Sergeant. Sir,

My Lord the Duke of Buckingham, and Earle
Of Hertford, Stafford and Norihampton; I
Arreſt thee of High Treafon, in the name
Of our moſt Soueraigne King.

Buck. Lo you my Lord,

The net has falne vpon me, I ſhall perſiſh
Vnder deuice, and præſtife.

Bran. I am forſy,

To fee you tane from liberty, to looke on
The buſines preſent. Tis his Highnes pleafure
You ſhall to th' Tower.

Buck. It will helpe me nothing

To plead mine Innocence; for that dye is on me
Which makes my whit't part, black. The will of Heau'n
Be done in this and all things: I obey.
O my Lord *Abyrgany*: Fare you well.

Bran. Nay, he muſt beare you company. The King
Is please'd you ſhall to th' Tower, till you know
How he determines further.

Abar. As the Duke ſaid,
The will of Heauen be done, and the Kings pleafure
By me obey'd.

Bran. Here is a warrant from
The King, & attach Lord *Mountacute*, and the Bodies
Of the Dukes Confessors, *John de la Car*,
One *Gilbert Pecke*, his Councellour.

Buck. So, to;

There are the limbs o'th' Plot: no more I hope.

Bra. A Mónke o'th' Chartreux.

Buck: O Michael Hopkins?

Bra. He.

Buck. My Suruey or is falce: The ore-great Cardinall
Hath ſhew'd him gold; my life is ſpand already:
I am the shadow of poore *Buckingham*.
Whofe Figure euen this instant Clowd puts on,
By Darkning my cleere Sunne. My Lords farewell. Exe.

Scena Secunda.

Cornets. Enter King Henry, leaning on the Cardinals shoul-
der, the Nobles, and Sir Thomas Louell: the Cardinal
places him ſelfe under the Kings feete on
his right side.

King. My life it ſelfe, and the beſt heart of it,
Thankes you for this great care: I flood i'th' leuell
Of a full-charg'd confederacie, and giue thankes
To you that choak'd it. Let be cald before vs
That Gentleman of *Buckingham*, in perſon,
He heare him his conſeſtions iuſtific.
And point by point the Treafons of his Maſter,
He ſhall againe relate.

A noſe within trying roome for the *Queene, uſper'd by the*
*Duke of Norſtolke*. Enter the *Queene, Norſtolke and*
*Snuffolke*. She kneels. *King rifeth from his State,*
takes her vp, kiffes and placeth
her by him.

Queen. Nay, we muſt longer kneele; I am a Suitor.
King. Arie, and take place by vs; halſe your Suit
Neuer name to vs; you haue halſe our power:

The

208

The other moity ere you aske is giuen,
Repeat your will, and take it.

*Queen.* Thanke your Maiefly

That you would loue your selfe, and in that loue
Not vnconsidered leaue your Honour, nor
The dignity of your Office; is the poynt
Of my Petition.

*Kin.* Lady mine proceed.

*Queen.* I am solicited not by a few,
And thole of true condition; That your Subjeets
Are in great grieuance: There haue beene Commissions
Sent downe among 'em, which hath flaw'd the heart
Of all their Loyalties; wherein, although
My good Lord Cardinall, they vent reproches,
Moft bitterly on you, as putter on
Of these exactions: yet the King, our Maifter
(Not Whose Honor Heauen shield from foile; euen he escapes
Language vnomannerly; yea, such which breakes
The fides of loyalty, and almost appeares
In lowd Rebellion.

*Norf.* Not almost appeares,
It doth appeare; for, vpon these Taxations,
The Clothiers all not able to maintaine
The many to them longing, haue put off
The Spinsters, Carders, Fullers, Weauers, who
Vnfit for other life, compeld by hunger
And lack of other meanes, in desperate manner
Daring th' eventuall too th' teeth, are all in vpreore,
And danger ferues among them.

*Kin.* Taxation?

Wherein? and what Taxation? My Lord Cardinall,
You that are blam'd for it alike with vs,
Know you of this Taxation?

*Card.* Please you Sir,
I know but of a single part in ought
Pertaines to th' State; and front but in that File
Where others tell steps with me.

*Queen.* No, my Lord?
You know no more then others? But you frame
Things that are knowne alike, which are not wholsome
To those which would not know them, and yet must
Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions
(Whereof my Soueraigne would haue note) they are
Moft pestilent to th' hearing, and to beare 'em,
The Backe is Sacrifice to th' load; They lay
They are deuis'd by you, er else you suffer
Too hard an exclamation.

*Kin.* Still Exaction:

The nature of it, in what kinde let's know,
Is this Exaction?

*Queen.* I am much too venturous
In tempting of your patience; but am boldned
Under your promis'd pardon. The Subjeets griefe
Comes through Commissions, which compels from each
The fixt part of his Substance, to be leuicd
Without delay; and the pretence for this
Is nam'd, your warres in France: this makes bold mouths,
Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze
Allegiance in them; their curtes now
Lie where their prayers did: and it's come to paffe,
This tractable obedience is a Slaue
To each incensed Will: I would your Highneffe
Would give it quicke consideration; for
There is no primer baseneffe.

*Kin.* By my life,
This is againft our pleasure.

*Card.* And for me,
I haue no further gone in this, then by
A single voice, and that not paft me, but
By learned approbation of the Judges: If I am
Traduc'd by ignorant Tongues, which neither know
My faculties nor person, yet will be
The Chronicles of my doing: Let me say,
'Tis but the fate of Place, and the rough Brake
That Vertue must goe through: we must not flint
Our necessary actions, in the feare
To cope malicious Cenfurers, which euer,
As rau'nous Fishes doe a Veffell follow,
That is new trim'd; but benefit no further
Then vainly longing. What we oft do beft,
By fique Interpreters (once weake ones) is
Not ours, or not allow'd; what worth, as oft
Hitting a groffer quality, is cride vp
For our beft Act: if we shall it and still,
In feare our motion will be mock'd, or carp'd at,
We should take roote here, where we fit;
Or fit State: States once only.

*Kin.* Things done well,
And wirh a care, exempt them selues from feare:
Things done without example, in their iffue
Are to be fear'd. Haue you a Prefident
Of this Commission? I believee, not any,
We must not rend our Subjeets from our Lawes,
And flicke them in our Will. Sixt part of each,
A trembling Contribution; why we take
From euery Tree, lop, barke, and part of'th' Timber:
And though we leaue it with a roote thus backt,
The Ayre will drinke the Sap. To euery County
Where this is queftion'd, send our Letters, with
Free pardon to each man that has deny'd
The force of this Commission: pray look too't;
I put it to your care.

*Card.* A word with you.
Let there be Letters writ to euery Shire,
Of the Kings grace and pardon: the greemed Common-
Hardly conceiue of me. Let it be nois'd,
That through our Intercession, this Reuokement
And pardon comes: I shall anon aduise you
Further in the proceeding.
*Exit Secret.*

*Enter Sarueyor.*

*Queen.* I am forry, that the Duke of Buckingham
Is run in your diu pleasure.

*Kin.* It grieues many:

The Gentleman is Learn'd, and a moft rare Speake,
To Nature none more bound; his trayning luch,
That he may furnifh and inſtruct great Teachers,
And neuer feeke for ayd out of himſelfe: yet fee,
When theſe ſo Noble benefits ſhall proue
Not well diſpos'd, the minde growing once corrupt,
They turne to vicious formes, ten times more vgly
Then euer they were faire. This man ſo compleat,
Who was enrold 'mongſt wonders; and when we
Almoſt with rauiſh'd lifting, could not ſinde
His houre of ſpeech, a minute: He, (my Lady)
Hath into monſtrous habits put the Graces
That once were his, and is become as blacke,
As if befear'd in hell. Sit by Vs, you ſhal heare
(This was his Gentleman in truſt) of him
Things to ſtrike Honour ſad. Bid him recoue
The fore-recited praeſtifes, whereof
We cannot feele too little, heare too much.

209

Card. Stand forth, & with bold spirit relate what you
Moſt like a carefull Subieſt haue collected
Out of the Duke of *Buckinghames*.

Kin. Speake freely.

Sur. First, it was ſuall with him; every day
It would infect his Speech: That if the King
Should without issue dye; hee'l carry it ſo
To make the Scepter his. Theſe very words
I'ue heard him viter to his Sonne in Law,
Lord *Aburgany*, to whom by oth he menac'd
Reuenge vpon the *Cardinall*.

Card. Please your Highneſſe note
This dangerous conception in this point,
Not ſtrended by his wish to your High perſon;
His will is moſt malignant, and it ſtretches
Beyond you to your friends.

Queen. My learn'd Lord *Cardinall*,
Deuier all with Charity.

Kin. Speake on.

How grounded hee his Title to the Crowne
Vpon our ſaile; to this poynt haſt thou heard him,
At any time ſpeake ought?

Sur. He was brought to this,

By a vaine Propheſie of *Nicholas Henton*.

Kin. What was that *Henton*?

Sur. Sir, a *Chartreux* Fryer,
His Conſeſſor, who ſed him every minute
With words of Soueraignty.

Kin. How know'ft thou this ?

Sur. Not long before your Hignefle ſped to France,
The Duke being at the Rofe, within the Parſiſh
Saint *Laurence* *Poultoney*, did of me demand
What was the ſpeech among the Londoners,
Concerning the French Journey. I replore,
Men ſeare the French would proue perſidious
To the King's danger: prefently, the Duke
Said, 'twas the ſeare indeed, and that he doubted
'Twould proue the verity of certaine words
Spoke by a holy Monke, that oft, ſayes he,
Hath ſent to me, wifhing me to permit
*John de la Car*, my Chaplaine, a choyce howre
To heate from him a matter of ſome moment:
Whom after vnder the Commissions Seale,
He ſollemnly had ſworne, that what he ſpoke
My Chaplaine to no Creature living, but
To me, should vtter, with demure Confidence,
This paufingly enſu'd; neither the King, nor's Heyres
(Tell you the Duke) ſhall proſper, bid him ſtrium
To the loue o' th' Commonalty, the Duke
Shall gouerne England.

Queen. If I know you well,
You were the Dukes *Surueyor*, and loſt your Office
On the complaint o' th' Tenants; take good heed
You charge not in your ſpleene a Noble perſon,
And ſpoyle your nobler Soule; I ſay, take heed;
Yes, heartily beſeech you.

Kin. Let him on: Goe forward.

Sur. On my Soule, Ile ſpeake but truth,
I told my Lord the Duke, by th'Diuels illusions
The Monke might be deeu'i'd, and that 'twas dangerous
For this to ruminate on this ſo farre, vntill
It ſorg'd him ſome deſigne, which being beleeu'd
It was much like to doe: He anſwer'd, *Tuſt*,
It can doe me no damage; adding further,
That had the King in his laſt Sickneſſe ſaſt,
The *Cardinals* and Sir *Thomas Louels* heads

Should haue gone off.

Kin. Ha? What, ſo rancke? Ah, ha,
There's miſchieſe in this man; canſt thou ſay further?

Sur. I can my Liede.

Kin. Proceed.

Sur. Being at *Greenwich*,

After your Highneſſe had reſprou'd the Duke

About Sir *William Blumer*.

(quunt,
Kin. I remember of ſuch a time, being my ſworn ſer-
The Duke retein'd him his. But on: what hence?

Sur. If (quoth he) I for this had beene committed,
As to the Tower, I thought; I would haue plaſt
The Part my Father meant to aſt vpon

Th' Furper *Richard*, who being at *Salsbury*,
Made ſuit to come in's prefence; which if granted,
(As he made ſemblance of his duty) would
Hane put his knife into him.

Kin. A Gyant Traytor.

Card. Now Madam, may his Highnes ſive in freeſome,
And this man out of Prilon.

Queen. God wend all.

Kin. There's ſomething more would out of thee; what

Sur. After the Duke his Father, with the knife
He ſtretch'd him, and with one hand on his dagger,
Another ſpread on's breaſt, mounting his eyes,
He did diſcharge a horible Oath, whole tenor
Was, were he ull vs'd, he would outgoe
His Father, by as much as a performance
Do's an irrefoule purpofe.

Kin. There's his period,
To ſheath his knife in vs: he is attach'd,
Call him to preſent tryall: if he may
Finde mercy in the Law, 'tis his; if none,
Let him not ſeeſt of vs: By day and night
Hee's Traytor to th' height.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter L. Chamberlaine and L. Sandys.

L. Ch. Is't poffible the ſpels of France ſhould iuggle
Men into ſuch ſtrange inſteries?

L. San. New culltomeſ,

Though they be neuer ſo ridiculous,
(Nay, let 'em be vnmanly) yet are follow'd.

L. Ch. As farre as I ſee, all the good our English
Haue got by the late Voyage, is but meereſly
A fit or two o' th' face, (but they are ſhrewd ones)
For when they hold 'em, you would ſwere directly
Their very noſes had been Councellours

To *Pepin* or *Clotharius*, they keepe State ſo.

L. San. They haue all new legs,
And lame ones ; one would take it,
That neuer ſee 'em pace before, the Spauen
A Spring-halt rain'd among 'em.

L. Ch. Death my Lord,
Their cloathes are after ſuch a Pagan cut too',
That ſure th'haue worne out Ch iften dome: how now!
What newes, Sir *Thomas Louell*?

Enter Sir *Thomas Louell*.

Louell. Faith my Lord,
I heare of none but the new Proclamation,
That's clapt vpon the Court Gate.

L. Cham.

210

L. Cham. What is't for?
Lou. The reformation of our trauel'd Gallants,
That fill the Court with quarrels, talke, and Taylors.

L. Cham. I'm glad 'tis there;
Now I would pray our Monfleurs
To thinke an English Courtier may be wife,
And neuer fee the Loure.

Lou. They must either
(For so run the Conditions) leaue thofe remnants
Of Foole and Feather, that they got in France,
With all their honourable points of ignorance
Pertaining thereunto; as Fights and Fire-workes,
Abusing better men then they can be
Out of a forreigne wife dome, renouncing cleane
The faith they haue in Tennis and tall Stockings,
Short bliftr'd Breeches, and thofe types of Trauell;
And vnderstand againe like honeſt men,
Or pack to their old Playfellowes; there, I take it,
They may Cum Pruilegio, wee away
The lag end of their lewdneſſe, and be laugh'd at.
L. San. Tis time to giue 'em Phyſicke, their diſcaſes
Are growne ſo catching.

L. Cham. What a loffe our Ladies
Will haue of theſe trim vanities?

Lonell. I marry,
There will be woe indeed Lords, the flye whorſons
Haue got a ſpeeding tricke to lay downe Ladies.
A French Song, and a Fiddle, ha's no Fellow.

L. San. The Diuell 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 plaine ſong,
And haue an houre of hearing, and by'r Lady
Held currant Muſſick too.

L. Cham. Well faid Lord Sands,
Your Colts tooth is not caſt yet?

L. San. No my Lord,
Nor ſhall not while I haue a ſumpc.

L. Cham. Sir Thomas,
Whither were you a going?

Lou. To the Cardinals;
Your Lordſhip is a gueſt too.
L. Cham. 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 Kingdome Ile affure you.

Lou. That Churchman
Beares a bounteous minde indeed,
A hand as fruitfull as the Land that feeds vs,
His dewes fall euery where.

L. Cham. No doubt hee's Noble;
We had a blacke mouth that ſaid other of him.

L. San. He may my Lord,
Ha's wherewithall in him;
Sparing would ſhow a worſe ſinne, then ill Doſtrine,
Men of his way, ſhould be moſt liberall,
They are ſet heere for examples.

L. Cham. True, they are ſo;
But ſew now giue ſo great ones:
My Barge ſlayes;
Your Lordſhip ſhall along: Come, good Sir Thomas,
We ſhall be late ſelle, which I would not be,
For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guilſord

This night to be Comptrollers.
L. San. I am your Lordſhips.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

Hoboyes. A small Table under a State for the Cardinall,
a longer Table for the Gueſts. Then Enter Anne Bullen,
and diners other Ladies, & Gentlemen, as Gueſts
at one Deore; at an other Deore enter
Sir Henry Guilſord.

S. Hen. Guilſt. Ladyes,
A generall welcome from his Grace
Salutes ye all; This Night he dedicates
To faire content, and you: None heere he hopes
In all this Noble Beuy, has brought with her
One care abroad: hee would haue all as terry:
As firſt, good Company, good wine, good welcome,
Can make good people.

Enter L. Chamberlaine L. Sands, and Lonell.
O my Lord, y'are tardy;
The very thought of this faire Company,
Clapt wings to me.

Cham. You are young Sir Harry Guilſord.
San. Sir Thomas Lonell, had the Cardinall
But halſe my Lay-thoughts in him, ſome of theſe
Should ſinde a running Banket, ere they reſtſt,
I thinke would better please 'em: by my life,
They are a ſweet society of faire ones.

Lou. O that your Lordſhip were but now Conſeſſer,
To one or two of theſe.

San. I would I were,
They ſhould ſinde eſſe pennance.

Lou. Faith how eſſe?

San. As eſſe as a downe bed would affoord it.

Cham. Swee: Ladies will it pleafe you ſit; Sir Harry
Place you that ſide, Ile take the charge of this:
His Grace is entring. Nay, you muſt not freeze,
Two women plac'd together, makes cold weather:
My Lord Sands, you are one will keepe 'em waking:
Pray fit betweene theſe Ladies.

San. By my faith,
And thankke your Lordſhip: by your leaue a ſweet Ladies,
If I chance to talke a little wilde, forgiue me:
I had it from my Father.

An. Buſ. Was he mad Sir?

San. O, very mad, exceeding mad, in loue too;
But he would bite none, iuſt as I do now,
He would Kiffle you Twenty with a breath.

Cham. Well faid my Lord:
So now y'are fairly ſeated: Gentlemen,
The pennance lyes on you; if theſe faire Ladies
Paſſe away frowning.

San. For my little Cure,
Let me alone.

Hoboyes. Enter Cardinall Wolſey, and takes his State.
Card. Y'are wel ome my faire Gueſts; that noble Lady
Or Gentleman that is not freely merry
Is not my Friend. This to confirme my welcome,
And to you all good health.

San. Your Grace is Noble,
Let me haue ſuch a Bowle may hold my thankes,
And faue me ſo much talking.

Card. My Lord Sands,

The Tragedie of Romeo and Juliet.

57

Mer. Tut, duns the Mouſe, the Conſtables owne word,
If thou art dun, weele draw thee from the mire.
Or faue your reuerence loue, wherein thou flicket
Vp to the eares, come we burne day light ho.

Rom. Nay that's not so.

Mer. I meane fir I delay,
We waſt our lights in vaine,lights,lights,by day;
Take our good meaning,for our Iudgement fits
Flue times in that,ere once in our fine wits.

Rom. And we meane well in going to this Maske,
Iut'tis no witt to go.

Mer. Why may one aske?

Rom. I dreapt a dreame to night.

Mer. And so did I.

Rom. Well what was yours?

Mer. That dreamers often lye.

Ro. In bed a ſleepe while they do dreame things true.

Mer. O then I fee while Queen Mab hath beene with you :
She is the Fairies Midwife, & ſhe comes in shape no big-
ger then Agat-stone, on the fore-finger of an Alderman,
drawe with a teeme of little Atomies,ouer mens noſes as
they lie aſſeepe: her Waggon Spokes made of long Spin-
ners legs: the Couer of the wings of Graſhoppers, her
Traces of the ſmallest Spiders web, her coullers of the
Moonſhines warry Beames, her Whip of Crickets bone,
the Lash of Philome, her Waggoner, a ſmall gray-coated
Gnat, not halſe ſo bigge as a round little Worme, prickt
from the Lazie-finger of a man. Her Chariot is an empty
Hafelnut, made by the Ioyner Squirrel or old Grub, time
out a mind, the Faries Coach-makers: & in this ſlate the
gallops night by night,through Louers brains: and then
they dreame of Loue.On Courtiers knees, that dreame on
Cuffes ſtrait: ore Lawyers fingers, who ſtrait dreamt on
Fees, ore Ladies lips, who ſtrait on kiffes dreame, which
oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, becauſe their
breath with Sweet meats tainted are. Sometime ſhe gal-
lops ore a Courtier's noſe, & then dreames he of ſmelling
out aſtue:& sometime comes ſhe with Tith pigs tale, tick-
ling a Parſons noſe as a lyes aſſeepe, then he dreames of
another Benefice. Sometime ſhe driuie ore a Souldiers
necke, & then dreames he of cutting. Forraine throats, of
Breaches, Ambuscados, Spanish Blades : Of Healths ſiue
Fadome deepe, and then anon drums in his eares, at which
he ſtartes and wakes; and being thus frighted, ſwears a
prayer or two & ſleepes againe: this is that very Mab that
plats the manes of Horſes in the night: & bakes the Elk-
locks in foule (luttish haires, which once vntangled, much
misfortune bodes,

This is the hag, when Maides lie on their backs,
That preſſes them, and Iearneth them firſt to beare,
Making them women of good carriage :
This is the.

Rom. Peace, peace, *Mercutio* peace,
Thou talk't of nothing.

Mer. True, I talke of dreames:
Which are the children of an idle braine,
Begot of nothing, but vaine phantafie,
Which is as thin of subſtance as the ayre,
And more inconſtant then the wind, who wooes
Even now the frozen boſome of the North:
And being anger'd, puffs away from thence,
Turning his ſide to the dew dropping South.

Ben. This wind you talke of blowes vs from our ſelues,
Supper is done, and we shall come too late.

Rom. I feare too early, for my mind migluiues,
Some conſequence yet hanging in the starres,

Shall bitterly begin his ſcarefull date
With this nights reuels, and expire the tearme
Of a deſpited life cloſ'd in my breſt:
By ſome vile forſe of vntimely death,
But he that hath the ſtrrage of my courſe,
Direſt my ſute : on luſtie Gentlemen.

Ben. Strike Drum.

Theymmarch about the Stage, and Servingmen come forth
with their napkins.

Enter Servant.

Ser. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away ?
He shift a Trencher ? he ſcrape a Trencher?

1. When good manners, ſhall lie in one or two mens
hands, and they vnwaſht too, 'tis a ſoule thing.

Ser. Away with the Ioynttooles, remoue the Court-
cubbord, looke to the Plate: good thou, faue mee a piece
of Marchpane, and as thou loueſt me, let the Porter let in
Sefan Grindstone, and Neſh, Anthonie and Potpan.

2. I Boy readie.

Ser. You are lookt for, and cal'd for, askt for, & ſought
for, in the great Chamber.

I cannot be here and there too, chearly Boyes,
Be brisk awhile, and the longer huer take all.

Exeunt.

Enter all the Gueſt and Gentlemen to the
Maskers.

1. Capu. Welcome Gentlemen,
Ladies that haue their toes
Vnplagu'd with Cornes, will walke about with you:
Ah my Miftrefſes, which of you all
Will now deny to dance? She that makes dainty,
She he ſweare hath Cornes: am I come are ye now?

Welcome Gentlemen, I have ſene the day

That I haue worne a Vifor, and could tell

A whispering tale in a faire Ladies eare:
Such as would pleafe: 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone,
You are welcome Gentlemen, come Muititians play :

Maficke plates: and the dance.

A Hall, Hell, giue roome, and foote it Girles,
More light you knaues, and turne the Tables vp :

And quench the ſire, the Roome is growne too hot,
Ah firrah, this vnlookt for ſport comes well :

Nay fit, nay fit, good Coz in Capulets,
For you and I are paſt our dauncing daies :
How long 'till now ſince laſt your ſelfe and I
Were in a Maske ?

2. Capu. Berlady thirty yeares,

1. Capu. What man: 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much,
'Tis ſince the Nuptiall of Lucentio,
Come Pentycoſt as quickly as it will,
Some ſiue and twenty yeares, and then we Maskt.

2. Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more, his Sonne is elder fir:
His Sonne is thirty.

3. Cap. Will you tell me that?
His Sonne was but a Ward two yeares agoe.

Rom. What Ladic is that which dothni rich the hand
Of yonder Knight?

Ser. I know not fir.

Rom. Of he doth teach the Torches to burne bright:
It feemes he hangs vpon the cheeke of night,
As a rich Jewel in an Æthiops eare:
Beauty too rich for vſe, for earth too deare:
So ſhewes a Snowy Doue trooping with Crowes,
As yonder Lady ore her fellowes ſhowes ;
The meaſure done, Ile watch her place of land,
And touching hers, make bleſſed my rude hand.

Did

Did my heart loue till now, forswere it fight,
For I neuer saw true Beauty till this night.

Tib. This by his voice, should be a Mountague.
Fetch me Rapier Boy, what dares the flaque
Come hither couer'd with an antique face,
To fleere and fcorne at our Solemnitie?
Now by the flocke and Honour of my kin,
To strike him dead I hold it not a fin.

Cap. Why how now kinfman,
Wherefore fforme you lo?

Tib. Vncle this is a Mountague, our foe:
A Villaine that is hither come in lpight,
To fcorne at our Solemnitie this night.

Cap. Young Romeo isit ?
Tib. 'Tis he, that Villaine Romeo.
Cap. Content thee gentle Coz, let him alone,
A beares him like a portly Gentleman :
And to say truth, Verona brags of him,
To be a vertuous and well govern'd youth:
I would not for the wealth of all the towne,
Here in my house do him disparagement :
Therefore be patient, take no note of him,
It is my will, the which if thou respeet,
Shew a faire prefence, and put off these frownes,
An ill befeeming femblance for a Feast.

Tib. It fits when fuch a Villaine is a guest,
Hele not endure him.

Cap. He shall be endu'rd.
What Goodman boy, I say he shall, go too,
Am I the Maifter here or you ? go too,
Youle not endure him, God shall mend my foule,
Youle make a Mutinie among the Guefts :
You will fer cocke a hoope, youle be the man.

Tib. Why Vncle, 'tis a fhame.
Cap. Go too, go too,
You are a fawcy Boy, 'tis to indeed ?
This tricke may chance to fcath you, I know whar,
You muft contrary me, marry 'tis time.
Well faid my hearts, you are a Princox, goe,
Be quiet, or more light, more light for fhame,
Ile make you quiet. What, chearely my hearts.

Tib. Patience perforce, with wilfull choler meeting,
Makes my flefh tremble in their different greeting :
I will withdraw, but this intrusion shall
Now feeming (weet, conduert to bitter gall.)
Exit.

Rom. If I prophane with my vnworthieſt hand,
This holy ſhrine, the gentle fin is this,
My lips to blushing Pilgrims did ready ſtand,
To ſmooth that rough touch, with a tender kiffe.

Iul. Good Pilgrime,
You do wrong your hand too much.
Which mannerly deuotion ſhewes in this,
For Saints haue hands, that Pilgrims hands do tuch,
And palme to palme, is holy Palmers kiffe,
Rom. Haue not Saints lips, and holy Palmers too ?
Iul. I Pilgrim, lips that they muſt vſe in prayer.
Rom. O then deare Saint, let lips do what hands do,
They pray (grant thou) leaſt faith turne to diſpaire.

Iul. Saints do not moue,
Though grant for prayers fake.
Rom. Then moue not while my prayers effect I take
Thus from my lips, by thine my fin is purg'd.
Iul. Then haue my lips the fin that they haue tooke.

Rom. Sin from my lips? O trefpasse sweetly vrg'd :
Gie me my fin againe.
Iul. You kiffe by't hooke.

Nur. Madam your Mother kraues a word with you,
Rom. What is her Mother ?

Nurſa. Marrie Batcheler,
Her Mother is the Lady of the house,
And a good Lady, and a wife, and Vertuous,
I Nurſt her Daughter that you talkt withall:
I tell you, he can lay hold of her,
Shall haue the chincks.

Rom. Is she a Capulet ?
O deare account! My life is my foes debt.
Ben. Away, be gone, the ſport is at the belt.
Rom. I so I feare, the more is my vnreft.
Cap. Nay Gentlemen prepare not to be gone,
We have a rifling foolish Banquet towards :
Is ite'ne to ? why then I thanke you all.
I thanke you honest Gentlemen, good night :
More Torches here: come on, then let's to bed.
Ah firrah, by my faie it waxes late,
Ile to my reft.

Iulio. Come hither Nurſe,
What is yond Gentleman :
Nur. The Sonne and Heire of old Tyberio.
Iulio. What's he that now is going out of doore?

Nur. Marrie that I thinke be young Petrucha.
Iul. What's he that follows here that would not dance?

Nur. I know not.
Iul. Go aske his name; if he be married,
My graue is like to be my wedded bed.

Nur. His name is Romeo, and a Mountague,
The onely Sonne of your great Enemie.

Iul. My only Loue Sprung from my only hate,
Too early ſeene, vnknowne, and knowne too late,
Prodigious birth of Loue it is to me,
That I muſt loue a loathed Enemie.

Nur. What's this ? what's this?

Iul. A rime, I learne euen now
Of one I dan't withall.

One calds within, Iuliet.

Nur. Anon, anon:
Come let's away, the ſtrangers all are gone.

Chorus.

Exequiis.

Now old desire doth in his death bed lie,
And yong affection gapes to be his Heire,
That faire, for which Loue gron'd for and would die,
With tender Iuliet matcht, is now not faire.
Now Romeo is beloved, and Loues againe,
A like bewitched by the charme of lookes :
But to his foe fupp'd he muſt complain,
And ſhe feale Loues sweet bait from fearefull hookes:
Being held a foe, he may not haue acſeſte
To breath ſuch vowes as Louers vſe to weare,
And ſhe as much in Loue, her meanes much leſſe,
To meete her new Beloued any where :
But paſſion lends them Power, time, means to meete,
Temp'ring extremities with extremeſe weete.

Enter Romeo alone.

Rom. Can I goe forward when my heart is here?
Turne backe dull earth, and find thy Center out.
Enter Bennolio, with Mercutio.

Ben. Romeo, my Cozen Romeo.
Merc. He is wife,

And on my life hath ſtolne him home to bed.

Ben. He ran this way and leapt this Orchard wall.
Call good Mercutio:
Nay, Ile coniure too.

Almer.

59

Mer. Romeo, Humours, Madman, Passion, Louer,
Appeare thou in the like neffe of a figh,
Speake but one time, and I am satisfied :

Cry me but ay me, Prouant, but Loue and day,
Speake to my goſhip Venus one faire word,
One Nickname for her publ blind Sonne and her,
Young Abraham Cupid he that ſhot so true,
When King Cophetua lou'd the begger Maid,
He heareth not, he floureth not, he moutheth ot,
The Ape is dead, I muſt coniure him,
I coniure thee by Refalines bright eyes,
By her High forehead, and her Scarlet lip,
By her Fine foote, Straight leg, and Quiuering thigh,
And the Demeanes, that there Adiacent lie,
That in thy like neſſe thou appeare to vs.

Ben. And if he heare thee thou wilt anger him.

Mer. This cannot anger him, t'would anger him
Toraſe a ſpirit in his Miftreſſe circle,
Of ſome ſtrange nature, letting it ſtand
Till ſhe had laid it, and coniured it downe,
That were ſpight.
My inuocation is faire and honef, & in his Miftris name,
I coniure onely but to raſe vp him.

Ben. Come, he hath hid himselfe among these Trees
To be conforted with the Humerous night :
Blind is his Loue, and beſt beſits the darke.

Mer. If Loue be blind, Loue cannot hit the marke,
Now will he fit vnder a Medler tree,
And with his Miftreſſe were that kind of Fruite,
As Maides call Medlers when they laugh alone,
O Romeo that ſhe were, O that ſhe were
An open, or thou a Poprin Peare,
Romeo goodnight, Ile to my Truckle bed,
This Field-art is to cold for me to ſleep,
Come shall we go?

Ben. Go then, for 'tis in vaine to ſeeke him here
That meanes not to be found.
Exequens.

Rom. He iaſts at Scarres that neuer felt a wound,
But ſoft, what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the Eaſt, and Iuliet is the Sunne,

Arife faire Sun and kill the enuious Moone,
Who is already ſicke and pale with griefe,
That thou her Maid art far more faire then ſhe :

Be not her Maid ſince ſhe is enuious,
Her Vestall iuery is but ſicke and greene,
And none but fooles do weare it, caſt it off :
It is my Lady, O it is my Loue, O that ſhe knew ſhe were,
She ſpeakes, yet ſhe ſayes nothing, what of that?

Her eye diſcourſes, I will anſwere it :

I am too bold 'tis not to me ſhe ſpeakes :
Two of the faireſt ſtarres in all the Heauen,
Hauing me buſineſſe do entreat her eyes,
To twinckle in their Spheres till they returne.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head,
The brightneſſe of her cheeke would ſhame that ſtarres,
As day-light doth a Lampe, her eye in heauen,
Would through the ayrie Region ſtreaſe so bright,
That Birds would ſing, and thinke it were not night :
See how ſhe leanes her cheeke vpon her hand.
O that I were a Gloue vpon that hand,
That I might touch that cheeke.

Iul. Ay me.

Rom. She ſpeakes.

Oh ſpeake againe bright Angell, for thou art
As gloriou to this night being ore my head,
As is a winged meſſenger of heauen

Vnto the white vpturned wondrous eyes
Of mortalls that fall backe to gaze on him,
When he beſtrides the lazie puffing Cloudes,
And failes vpon the boſome of the ayre.

Iul. O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?

Denie thy Father and reſufe thy name :
Or if thou wilt not, be but worſore my Loue,
And Ile no longer be a Capulet.

Rom. Shall I heare more, or shall I ſpeake at this?

Iul. 'Tis but thy name that is my Enemy :
Thou art thy ſelfe, though not a Mountague,
What's Mountague ? it is nor hand nor toot,
Nor arme, nor face, O be ſome other name
Belonging to a man.

What ? in a names that which we call a Rofe,
By any other word would ſmell as ſweete,
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo cal'd,
Retaine that deare perſection which he owes,
Without that title Romeo, doſſe thy name,
And for thy name which is no part of thee,
Take all my ſelfe.

Rom. I take thee at thy word :
Call me but Loue, and Ile be new baptiz'd,
Hence forth I neuer will be Romeo.

Iul. What man art thou, that thus beſcreen'd in night
So ſtumbleſt on my counſell?

Rom. By a name,
I know not how to tell thee who I am :
My name deare Saint, is hatefull to my ſelfe,
Because it is an Enemy to thee,
Had I it written, I would teare the word.

Iul. My eares haue yet not drunke a hundred words
Of thy tongues vttering, yet I know the found.
Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?

Rom. Neither faire Maid, if either thee diſlike.

Iul. How cam't thou hither.

Tell me, and wherefore?

The Orchard walls are high, and hard to climbe,
And the place death, confidering who thou art,

If any of my kinfmen find thee here,

Rom. With Loues light wings
Did I ore-perch these Walls,

For ſtony limits cannot hold Loue out,
And what Loue can do, that dates Loue attempt :
Therefore thy kinfmen are no ſlop to me.

Iul. If they do fee thee, they will murther thee.

Rom. Alacke there lies more perill in thine eye,
Then twenty of their Swords, looke thou but ſweete,
And I am proofe againſt their enmity.

Iul. I would not for the world they ſaw thee here.

Rom. I haue nights cloake to hide me from their eyes
And but thou loue me, let them finde me here,
My life were better ended by their hate,
Then death proroged wanting of thy Loue.

Iul. By whose direction found'ft thou out this place?

Rom. By Loue that firſt did promp me to enquire,
He lent me counſell, and I lent him eyes,

I am no Pylot, yet wert thou as far
As that vaſt-shore-washet with the fartheſt Sea,
I should aduenture for such Marchandise.

Iul. Thou knoweſt the maske of night is on my face,
Elle would a Maiden bluſh bepaint my cheeke,
For that which thou haſt heard me ſpeake to night,
Faine would I dwell on forme, faire, faire, denie
What I haue ſpoke, but farewell Complement,
Doeſt thou Loue ? I know thou wilt ſay I s

And

The Tragedie of Romeoand Juliet

60

And I will take thy word,yet if thou swarest,
Thou maiest proue falrest at Louers perjuries
They fay Loue laught,oh gentle Romeo,
If thou doft Loue,pronounce it faithfully:
Or if thou thinkest I am too quickly wonne,
Ile frowne and be periwage,and fay thee nay,
So thou wilt wooe: But else not for the world.
In truth faire Mountague I am too fond:
And therefore thou maiest thinke my behaviour light,
But trust me Gentleman,ile proue more true,
Then thofe that haue coying to be ftrange,
I should haue beene more ftrange,I muſt confefſe,
But that thou ouer heard'ſt ere I was ware
My true Loues paſſion,therefore pardon me,
And not impute this yeelding to light Loue,
Which the darke night hath iſdilouered.

Rom. Lady,by yonder Moone I vow,
That tips with filer all theſe Fruite tree tops.

Iul. O ſware not by the Moone,th'inconſtant Moone,
That monethly changes in her circled Orbe,
Leaſt that thy Loue proue likewife variable.

Rom. What ſhall I ſware by ?

Iul. Do not ſware at all :

O rife thou wilt ſware by thy gratious ſelfe,
Which is the God of my Idolatry,
And Ile beleeue thee.

Rom. If my hearts deare loue.

Iul. Well do not ſware,although I ioy in thee:
I haue no ioy of this contract to night,
It is too rath,too vnaduif'd,too ſudden,
Too like the lightning which doth ceafe to be
Ere,one can ſay,it lightens,Sweete good night:
This bud of Loue by Summers ripening breath,
May proue a beauteous Flower when next we meete:
Goodnight,goodnight,as ſweete repofe and reſt,
Come to thy heart,as that within my breſt.

Rom. O wilt thou leaue me ſo vnfatſified?

Iul. What fatiſaction can't thou haue to night ?

Ro. Th'exchange of thy Loues faithfull vow for mine.

Iul. I gaue thee mine before thou didſt requeſt it:
And yet I would it were to giue againe.

Rom. Would'ſt thou withdraw it,
For what purpose Loue?

Iul. But to be franke and giue it thee againe,
And yet I wif but for the thing I haue,
My bounty is as boundleſſe as the Sea,
My Loue as deepe,the more I giue to thee,
The more I haue,for both are Inſinite:
I heare fome noyle within deare Loue adue :

Cals within.

Auon good Nurſe,ſweet Mountague be true:
Stay but alittle,I will come againe.

Rom. O bleſſed bleſſed night,I am aſear'd
Being in night,all this is but a dreame,
Too flattering ſweet to be ſubſtantiall.

Iul. Three words deare Romeo,
And goodnight indeed,
If that thy bent of Loue be Honourable,
Thy purpofe marriage,fend me word to morrow,
By one that Ile procure to come to thee,
Where and what time thou wilt performe the right,
And all my Fortunes at thy foote I lay,
And follow thee my Lord throughout the world.

Within: Madam.

I come,anon : but if thou meanest not well,
I do beſeech thee.

Within: Madam.

(By and by I come)

To ceafe thy ſtrife,and leaue me to my grieſe,
To morrow will I ſend.

Rom. So throue my ſoule.

Iul. A thouſand times goodnight.

Rome. A thouſand times the worſe to want thy light,
Loue goes toward Loue as school-boyes frò thier books
But Loue frò Loue, towards schoole with heauie looks.

Exiſt.

Enter Iuliet againe.

Iul. Hift Romeo hift:O for a Falkners voice,
To lure this Taffell gentle backe againe,
Bondage is hoarſe,and may not ſpeake aloud,
Elſe would I teare the Caue where Echolies,
And make her ayrie tongue more hoarſe,then
With repetition of my Romeo.

Rom. It is my ſoule that calls vpon my name,
How filuer ſweet, found Louers tongues by night,
Like softeſt Muſicke to attending eares.

Iul. Romeo.

Rom. My Neece.

Iul. What a clock to morrow

Shall I ſend to thee?

Rom. By the houre of nine.

Iul. I will not faile,'tis twenty yeares till then,
I haue forgot why I did call thee backe.

Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it.

Iul. I ſhall forget,to haue thee ſill stand there,
Remembring how I Loue thy company.

Rom. And Ile ſill ſtay,to haue thee ſill forget,
Forgetting any other home but this.

Iul. 'Tis almost morning,I would haue thee gone,
And yet no further then a wantons Bird,
That let's it hop a little from his hand,
Like a poore prifoner in his twiſted Gyues,
And with a filken thred plucks it backe againe,
So louing Icalous of his liberty.

Rom. I would I were thy Bird.

Iul. Sweet ſo would I,

Yet I should kill thee with much cheriſhing:
Good night,good night.

Rom. Parting is ſuch ſwere ſorrow,
That I ſhall pay goodnight,till it be morrow.

Iul. Sleepe dwell vpon thine eyes,peace in thy breſt.
Rom. Would I were sleepe and peace ſo ſweet to ſore,
The gray ey'd morne ſmiles on the frowning night,
Checkring the Eafterne Cloudes with ſtreakes of light,
And darkneſſe fleckel'd like a drunkard reeles,
From forth dayes pathway,made by Titans wheeles.
Hence will I to my ghosſtly Fries cloſe Cell,
His helpe to craue,and my deare hap to tell.

Exiſt.

Enter Frier alone with a basket.

Fri. The gray ey'd morne ſmiles on the frowning night,
Checkring the Eafterne Cloudes with ſtrakes of light:
And fleckled darkneſſe like a drunkard reeles,
From forth daies path,and Titans burning wheeles :
Now ere the Sun aduance his burning eye,
The day to cheere,and nights danke dew to dry,
I muſt vſpill this Oſier Cage of ours,
With balefull weedes,and precious Juiced flowers,
The earth that's Natures mother, is her Tombe,
What is her burying graue that is her wombe :
And from her wombe children of diuers kind

We

61

We fucking on her natural bofome find :

Many for many vertues excellent :

None but for fome, and yet all different,

Omickle is the powerfull grace that lies

In Plante, Hearbs, flones, and their true qualities :

For nought so vile, that on the earth dothlieve,
But to the earth fome speciall good doth gue ;

Nor ought so good, but strain'd from that faire vfe ;

Reoultes from true birth, flumbling on abufe,

Verue it selfe turnes vice being misapplied,

And vice sometime by a action dignified.

Enter Romeo.

Within the infant rin'd of this weake flower,

Poyson hath residence, and medicine power :

For this being smelt, with that part cheares each part,
Being tafted flayes all fences with the heart.

Two luch oppofed Kings encampe them full,

In man as well as Hearbes, grace and rade will :

And where the worfer is predominant,

Full foone the Canker death eates vp that Plant.

Rom. Good morrow Father.

Fri. Benededite.

What early tongue so sweet falate me?

Young Sonne, it argues a diftempered head,

So foone to bid goodmorrow to thy bed ;

Care keepe his watch in euery old mans eye,

And where Care lodges, sleepe will neuer lye :

But where vnbrufed youth with vnftuft braine

Doth couch his lims, there, golden sleepe doth raigne;

Therefore thy earlineſe doth me affure,

Thou art vyrous'd with fome dimf temperature;

Or if not so, then here I hit it right,

Our Romeo hath not beene in bed to night.

Rom. That laſt is true, the fweeter reſt was mine.

Fri. God pardon fin'waſt thou with Rosaline ?

Rom. With Rosaline, my ghosfly Father ? No,

Ihaue forgot that name, and that names woe.

Fri. That's my good Son, but wher haſt thou bin then ?

Rom. Ile tell thee ere thou aske it me agen :

Ihaue beene feaſting with mine enemies,

Where on a sudden one hath wounded me,

That's by me wounded: both our remedies

Within thy helpe and holy poffiche lies :

I beare no hatred, bleſſed man: for Ioe

My intercession likewise fteads my foe.

Fri. Be plaine good Son, reſt homely in thy drift,

Ridling conſeption, findes but ridling ſtrift.

Rom. Then plainly know my hearts deare Loue is fet,

On the faire daughter of rich Capulet :

As mine on hers, to hers is fet on mine;

And all combin'd, ſaue what thou muſt combine

By holy marriage: when and where, and how?

We met, we wooed, and made exchange of vow :

Ile tell thee as we paffe, but this I pray,

That thou consent to marrie vs to day.

Fri. Holy S. Franciſe, what a change is heere?

Is Rosaline that thou didſt Loue ſo deare

So foone forſaken ? young mens Loue then lies

Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.

Iefu Maria, what a deale of brine

Hath waſt thy fallow cheekes for Rosaline ?

How much faſt water throwne away in waſt,

To ſeafon Loue that of it doth not raſt.

The Sun nor yet thy ſighes, from heauen cleares,

Thy old grones yet ringing in my auncient eares :

Lo here upon thy cheeke the ſraine doth fit,

Of an old teare that is not waſt off yet.

If ere thou waſt thy ſelfe, and theſe woes thine,

Thou and theſe wues, were all for Rosaline.

And art thou chang'd? pronounce this ſentence then,

Women may fall, when there's no ſtrength in men.

Rom. Thou chid'ſt me oft for louing Rosaline.

Fri. For doting not for louing pupill mine.

Rom. And bad'ſt me bury Loue.

Fri. Not in a graue,

To lay one in, another out to haue.

Rom. I pray thee chide me not, her I Loue now

Doth grace for grace, and Loue for Loue allow :

The other did not so.

Fri. O she knew well,

Thy Loue did read by rote, that could not ſpell :

But come young wauerer, come goe with me,

In one respect, Ile thy affaſtant be:

For this alliance may ſo happy proue,

To turne your houſhould rancor to pure Loue.

Rom. Olet vs hence, I stand on sudden haſt.

Fri. Wisely and flow, they flumble that run ſaſt.

Exeunt

Enter Bennolio and Mercutio.

Mer. Where the deu le should this Romeo be ? came he not home to night ?

Ben. Not to his Fathers, I spoke with his man.

Mer. Why that ſame pale hard-harted wench, that Rosaline torments him ſo, that he will ſure run mad.

Ben. Tibalt, the kinfman to old Capulet, hath ſent a Letter to his Fathers houſe.

Mer. A challenge on my life.

Ben. Romeo will anſwere it.

Mer. Any man that can write, may anſwere a Letter.

Ben. Nay, he will anſwere the Letters Maſler how he dares, being dared.

Mer. Alas poore Romeo, he is already dead ſtab'd with a white wenches blacke eye, runne through the eare with a Loue ſong, the very pinne of his heart, cleft with the blind Bowe-boyes but- ſhaft, and is he a man to encounter Tybalt?

Ben. Why what is Tibalt ?

Mer. More then Prince of Cats. Oh hee's the Couragious Captaine of Complements : he fights as you ſing prickſong, keeps time, diſtance, and proportion, he reſts his minum, one, two, and the third in your boſom: the veſry butcher of a ſilk button, a Dualiſt, a Dualiſt; a Gentleman of the very firſt houſe of the firſt and ſecond caufe: ah the immortal Paſſado, the Punto reuerſo, the Hay.

Ben. The what ?

Mer. The Pox of ſuch antique lifing affecting phantacies, theſe new tuners of accent: Ieſu a very good blade, a very tall man, a very good whoſe. Why is not this a lamentable thing Grandſire, that we should be thus affaſtied with theſe ſtrange flies : theſe fashion Mongers, theſe parridon-mee's, who ſtand ſo much on the new ſorm, that they cannot fit at eafe on the old bench. O their bones, their bones.

Enter Romeo.

Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.

Mer. Without his Roe, like a dryed Hering, O fleſh, fleſh, how art thou ſilhified? Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in: Laura to his Lady, was a kitchen wench, marrie he had a better Loue to berime her: Dido a dowdie, Cleopatra a Gipſie, Hellen and Hero, hildings and Harlots: Thisibie a gray eie or ſo, but not to the purpofe, Signior Romeo, Bonjour, there's a French falutation to your

ff

62

French flop: you gaue vs the counterfait fairly left
night.

Romeo. Good morrow to you both, what counterfeit
did I gue you?

Mer. The flip fit, the flip, can you not conceiue?

Rom. Pardon Mercutio, my buſineſſe was great, and in
fuch a cafe as mine, a man may ſtraine curteſe.

Mer. That's as much as to ſay, ſuch a cafe as yours con-
ſtrains a man to bow in the hams.

Rom. Meaning to curſie.

Mer. Thou haſt moſt kindly hit it.

Rom. A moſt curteous exſposition.

Mer. Nay, I am the very pinck of curteſe.

Rom. Pinke for flower.

Mer. Right.

Rom. Why then is my Pump well flow'r'd.

Mer. Sure wit, follow me this ieaſt, now till thou haſt
worne out thy Pump, that when the ſingle ſole of it is
worne, the ieaſt may remaine after the wearing, ſole-
ſingular.

Rom. O ſingle ſol'd ieaſt,
Soly ſingular for the ſinglenſe.

Mer. Come betweene vs good Bennolio, my wits faints.

Rom. Swits and spurs,

Swits and spurs, or He crie a match.

Mer. Nay, if our wits run the Wild-Goofe chafe, I am
done: For thou haſt more of the Wild-Goofe in one of
thy wits, then I am ſure I haue in my whole ſiue. Was I
with you there for the Goofe?

Rom. Thou waſt neuer with mee for any thing, when
thou waſt not there for the Goofe.

Mer. I will bite thee by the eare for that ieſt.

Rom. Nay, good Goofe bite not.

Mer. Thy wit is a very Bitter-sweeting,

It is a moſt ſharer ſawce.

Rom. And is it not well ſeru'd into a Sweet-Goofe?

Mer. Oh here's a wit of Cheuerell, that ſretches from
an yuch narrow, to an ell broad.

Rom. I ſtretch it out for that word, broad, which added
to the Goofe, proues thee farre and wide, abroad Goofe.

Mer. Why is not this better now, then groning for
Loue, now art thou ſociable, now art thou Romeo: now art
thou what thou art, by Art as well as by Nature, for this
driueling Loue is like a great Naturall, that runs lolling
vp and downe to hid his bable in a hole.

Ben. Stop there, ſtop there.

Mer. Thou defir'ſ me to ſtop in my tale againſt the
Ben. Thou would't eſſe haue made thy tale large. (haire).

Mer. O thou art deeuiu'd, I would haue made it ſhort,
or I was come to the whole depth of my tale, and meant
indeed to occupie the argument no longer.

Enter Nurſe and her man.

Rom. Here's goodly geare.

A ſayle, a ſayle.

Mer. Two, two: a Shirt and a Smocke.

Nur. Peter?

Peter. Anon.

Nur. My Fan Peter?

Mer. Good Peter to hide her face?

For her Fans the fairer face?

Nur. God ye good morrow Gentlemen.

Mer. God ye gooden faire Gentlewoman.

Nur. Is it gooden?

Mer. 'Tis no leſſe I tell you: for the bawdy hand of the
Dyall is now vpon the pricke of Noone.

Nur. Out vpon you: what a man are you?

Rom. One Gentlewoman,

That God hath made, himſelfe to mar.

Nur. By my troth it is ſaid, for himſelfe to, mar qua-
tha: Gentlemen, can any of you tel me where I may find
the young Romeo?

Romeo. I can tell you: but young Romeo will be older
when you haue found him, then he was when you fought
him: I am the youngeſt of that name, for fault of a work.
Nur. You ſay well.

Mer. Yea is the workt well,
Very well tooke: I ſaith, wifely, wifely.

Nur. If you be he fir,

I deſire ſome confidence with you?

Ben. She will endite him to ſome Supper.

Mer. A baud, a baud, a baud. So ho.

Rom. What haſt thou found?

Mer. No Hare fir, vnleſſe a Hare fir in a Lenten pie,
that is ſomething ſtale and hoare ere it be ſpent,

An old Hare hoare, and an old Hare hoare is very good
meat in Lent.

But a Hare that is hoare is too much for a ſcore, when it
hoares ere it be ſpent,

Romeo will you come to your Fathers? Weele to dinner
thither.

Rom. I will follow you.

Mer. Farewell auncient Lady :

Farewell Lady, Lady, Lady.

Exit. Mercutio, Bennolio.

Nur. I pray you fir, what ſawcie Merchant was this
that was ſo full of his roperie?

Rom. A Gentleman Nurſe, that loues to heare himſelfe
talke, and will ſpeake more in a minute, then he will ſtand
to in a Moneth.

Nur. And a ſpeake any thing againſt me, I take him
downe, & a were luſtter then he is, and twentie ſuch lacks:
and if I cannot. Ile finde that ſhail: ſcurie knaue, I
am none of his flurt-gils, I am none of his skaines mates,
and thou muſt ſtand by too and ſuffer euery knaue to vie
me at his pleafure.

Pet. I law no man vſe you at his pleafure: if I had, my
weapon ſhould quickly haue beene out, I warrant you, I
dare draw aſſoone as another man, if I fee occasion in a
good quarrell, and the law on my ſide.

Nur. Now afore God, I am ſo vext, that euery part about
me quiuers, skuruy knaue: pray you fir a word: and as I
told you, my young Lady bid me enquire you out, what
ſhe bid me ſay, I will keepe to my ſelfe: but firſt let me
tell ye, if ye ſhould leade her in a fooles paradie, as they
ſay, it were a very groſſe kind of behauiour, as they ſay:
for the Gentlewoman is yong: & therefore, if you ſhould
deale double with her, truely it were an ill thing to be of-
fered to any Gentlewoman, and very weake dealing.

Nur. Nurſe commend me to thy Lady and Miltreſſe, I
proteſt vnto thee.

Nur. Good heart, and yfaith I will tell her as much:
Lord, Lord, ſhe will be a ioyfull woman.

Rom. What wilt thou tell her Nurſe? thou does not
make me?

Nur. I will tell her fir, that you do proteſt, which as I
take it, is a Gentſeman-like offer. (afternoones)

Rom. Bid her deuife ſome meanes to come to ſhrift this
And there ſhe ſhall at Frier Lawrence Cell
Befriu'd and married: here is for thy paines.

Nur. No truly fir not a penny.

Rom. Go too, I ſay you ſhall.

Nurſe

63

Nur. This afternoon he fit well the shall be there.

Re. And fly thou good Nurfe behind the Abbey wall,
Within this hour he my man shall be with thee,
And bring thee Cords made like a tackled staire,
Which to the high top gallant of my ioy,
Must be my conuy in the secret night.

Farewell, be trutſie and Ile quite thy paines:
Farewell, commend me to thy Mifreſſe.

Nur. Now God in heauen bleſſe thee harke you fir,

Rom. What faſt thou my deare Nurſe?

Nurſe. Is your man ſecret, did you nere heare ſay two
may keepe counſell putting one away.

Re. Warrant thee my man as true as ſteedle.

Nur. Well ſix, my Mifreſſe is the ſweetest Lady, Lord,
Lord, when it was a little prating thing. O there is a No-
ble man in Towne one Paris, that would faire lay knife a-
board: but the good ſoule had as leeu a ſee Toade, a very
Toade as ſee him: I anger her ſometimes, and tell her that
Paris is the properer man, but Ile warrant you, when I ſay
ſo, ſhe lookes as pale as any clou in the verfall world.
Doth not Roſemarie and Romeo? begin both with a letter ?

Rom. I Nurſe, what of that? Both with an R

Nur. A mocker that's the dogsname. R. is for the no,
I know it begins with ſome other letter, and ſhe hath the
prettie ſententious of it, of you and Roſemary, that it
would do your good to heare it.

Rom. Com demand me to thy Lady.

Nur. I a thouſand times, Peter.

Pet. Anon.

Nur. Before and apace.

Exit Nurſe and Peter.

Enter Iuliet.

Iul. The clocke strook nine, when I did ſend the Nurſe,
In half an hour he promised to returne,

Perchance ſhe cannot meete him: that's not ſo :

Oh ſhe is lame, Loues hierauid should be thoughts,
Which ten times ſaſter glides then the Sunnes beames,
Driuing backe ſhadows ouer lowring hils.
Therefore do nimble Pinion' Doues draw Loue,

And therefore hath the wind-ſwift Cupid wings :

Now is the Sun upon the highmout hilt.

Of this daies journey, and from nine till twelue,
I three long hours, yet ſhe is not come.

Had the affections and warme youthfull blood,
She would be as ſwift in motion as a ball,
My words would bandy her to my ſweete Loue,

And his to me, but old folkes,
Many faire as they were dead,

Unvieldie, flow, heavy, and pale as lead.

Enter Nurſe.

O God ſhe comes, O hony Nurſe what newes ?

Hast thou met with him? ſend thy man away.

Nur. Peter stay at the gate.

Iul. Now good ſweer Nurſe :

O Lord, why looked thou sad ?

Though newes, be sad, yet tell them merrily.

If good thou ſham it the muſick of ſweet newes,

By playing it to me, with ſo lower a face.

Nur. I am a weary, giue me leane a while,

I howe my bones ake, what aiauunt have I had ?

Iul. I would thou hadt my bones, and I thy newes :

Nay come I pray thee ſpeak, good Nurſe ſpeak.

Nur. Iefu what haſt thou can you not ſay a while ?

Do you not fee that I am out of breath?

Iul. How art thou out of breath, when thou haſt breath
To ſay to me, that thou art out of breath?

The exſufe that thou doſt make in this delay.

Is longer then the rale thou doſt exſufe.

Is thy newes good or bad? anſwere to that,

Say either, and Ile ſay the circuſtance :

Let me be ſatisfied, iſt good or bad ?

Nur. Well, you haue made a ſimple choice, you know
not how to chufe a man: Romeo, no not he though his ſace
be better then any mans, yet his legs excels all mens, and
for a hand, and a foote, and a body, though they be not so
be talkt on, yet they are paſt compare: he is not the flower
of curſeſſe, but Ile warrant him as gentle a Lambe, go thy
waies wench, ſerue God. What haue you din'd at home?

Iul. No no: but all this this did I know before

What ſaſſe he of our marriage? what of that?

Nur. Lord how your head akes, what a head, haue I?
It beates as it would fall in twenty pieces.

My backe a tother ſide: o my backe, my backe :

Beſtrew your heart for ſending me about

To catch my death with iauing vp and downe.

Iul. I faith: I am forſie that that thou art to well.

Sweet weſt, weſt Nurſe, tell me what ſaſſes my Loue ?

Nur. Your Loue ſaſſes like an honest Gentleman,

And a courteous, and a kind, and a handiome,

And I warrant a vertuous: where is your Mother ?

Iul. Where is my Mother?

Why ſhe is within, where should ſhe be ?

How odlly thou repliſt?

Your Loue ſaſſes like an honest Gentleman?

Where is your Mother?

Nur. O Gods Lady deare,

Are you so hot? marrie come vp I trow,

Is this the Poulſt for my aking bones ?

Henceforward do your meſſages your ſelſe.

Iul. Heere's ſuch a coile, come what ſaſſes Romeo?

Nur. Have you got leaue to go to ſhrift to day ?

Iul. I haue.

Nur. Then high you hence to Frier Lawrence Cely,

There ſaſſes a Husband to make you a wife :

Now comes the wanten bloud vp in your cheekes,

Theil'le be in Scarlet ſtraight at any newes :

Hie you to Church, I muſt an other way,

To fetch a Ladder by the which your Loue

Muſt clime a birds neſt Soone when it is darke:

I am the drudge, and to le in your delight:

But you shall beare the burthen ſoone at night.

Go Ile to dinner, hie you to the Cell.

Iul. Hie to high Fortune, honest Nurſe, farewell, Exenunt.

Enter Frier and Romeo.

Fri. So ſmile the heauens upon this holy act,

That after hours, with ſorrow chide vs not.

Rom. Amen, amen, but come what ſorrow can,

It cannot countenual, the exchange of ioy.

That one ſhort minute glues me in her fight:

Do thou but cloſe our hands with holy words,

Then Loue-deuouring death do what he dares,

It is enough, I may but call her mine.

Fri. Theſe violent deliſts haue violent endes,

And in their triumph, diſe like fire and powders,

Which as they kiffle confume. The ſweeteſt honey,

Is loathome in his owne, deliciouſneſſe,

And in the taſte confounds the appetite.

Therefore Loue moderately, long Loue doth ſo,

Too ſwift arrives as tardie as too flow.

Enter Iuliet.

Here comes the Lady. Oh so light a foot

Will nere weare out the everlaſting ſlent,

ff 2

A

A Louer may bestride the Goffamours,
That ydles in the wanton Summer ayre,
And yet not fall, to light is vanacie.

Iul. Good euen to my ghaffly Confessor.

Fri. Romeo shall thank thee Daughter for vs both.

Iul. As much to him, else in his thanks too much.

Fri. Ah Inlet, if the meaure of thy ioy

Be heapt like mine, and that thy skill be more

Toblafon it, then tweeent with thy breath

This neighbour ayre, and let rich muſickes tongue,

Unfold the imagin'd happineſe that both

Receiue in either, by this deere encounter.

Iul. Conceit more rich in matter then in words,

Brags of his subſtance, not of Ornament :

They are but beggers that can count their worth,

But my true Loue is growne to such ſuch exceſſe,

I cannot ſum vp ſome of halſe my wealth.

Fri. Come, come with me, & we will make ſhort worke,

For by your leaues, you ſhall not ſtay alone,

Till holy Church incorporate two in one.

Enter Mercutio, Bennuolio, and men.

Ben. I pray thee good Mercutio lets retire,

The day is hot, the Capulets abroad :

And if we meet, we ſhal not ſcape a brawle, for now these
hot dayes, is the mad blood ſpirring.

Mer. Thou art like one of these ſellowes, that when he
enters the confines of a Tauerne, claps me his Sword vpon
the Table, and fayes, God iend me no need of thee: and by
the operation of the ſecond cup, drawes him on the Draw-
er, when indeed there is no need.

Ben. Am I like ſuch a Fellow ?

Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jacke in thy mood,
as any in Italie : and aſſoone moued to be moodie, and aſ-
ſoone moodie to be mou'd.

Ben. And what too?

Mer. Nay, and there were two ſuch, we should haue
none ſhoretly for one would kill the other: thou, why thou
wilt quarrell with a man that hath a haire more, or a haire
leſſe in his beard, then thou haſt: thou wilt quarrell with a
man for cracking Nuts, hauing no other reaſon, but be-
cauſe thou haſt haſſell eyes: what eye, but ſuch an eye,
would ſpie out ſuch a quarrell ? thy head is as full of quar-
rels, as an egge is full of meat, and yet thy head hath bin
beaten as addle as an egge for quarreling: thou haſt quar-
rel'd with a man, for coſſing in the street, because he haſt
wakened thy Dog that hath laine ſleepe in the Sun. Did't
thou not fall out with a Tailor for wearing his new Doub-
let before Eafter ? with another, for tying his new ſhooes
with old Ribatt, and yet thou wilt Tutor me from quar-
relling?

Ben. And I were ſo apt to quarrell as thou art, any man
should buy the Fee ſimple of my life, for an houre and a
quarter.

Mer. The fee ſimple ? O ſimple.

Enter Tybalt, Petruchio, and others.

Ben. By my head here comes the Capulets.

Mer. By my heele I care not.

Tyb. Follow me close, for I will ſpeake to them.

Gentlemen, Good den, a word with one of you.

Mer. And but one word with one of vs? couple it with
something, make it a word and a blow.

Tib. You ſhall find me apt enough to that fir, and you
will giue me occasion.

Mercu. Could you not take some occasion without
giving?

Tib. Mercutio thou comfort it with Romeo.

Mer. Confort what doſt thou make vs. Minſrels? be
thou make Minſrels of vs, looke to heare nothing but di-
cords heere's my fiddleſlicke, heere's that ſhall make you
daunce. Come comfort.

Ben. We talke here in the publike haunt of men:

Either withdraw vnto some private place,

Or reaſon coldly of your greecuances :

Or eſſe depart, here all eies gaze on vs.

Mer. Mens eyes were made to looke, and let them gaze.
I will not budge for no man's pleasure I.

Enter Romeo.

Tib. Well peace be with you fir, here comes my man.

Mer. But Ile be hang'd fir if he weare your Livery.
Marry go before to field, heele be your follower,
Your worſhip in that ſenſe, may call him man.

Tib. Romeo, the loue I beare thee, can aſſoard
No better terme then this: Thou art a Villaine.

Rom. Tibalt, the reaſon that I haue to loue thee,
Doth much excufe the appertaining rage
To ſuch a greeting: Villaine am I none;
Therefore farewell, I see thou know'st me not.

Tib. Boy, this ſhall not excufe the inities
That thou haſt done me, therefore turne and draw.

Rom. I do proteſt I neuer iniur'd thee,
But lou'd thee better then thou can't deuife:
Till thou haſt know the reaſon of my loue,
And ſo good Capulet, which name I tender
As dearely as my owne, be ſarified.

Mer. O calme, diſhonourable, vile submiſſion:
Alla ſtucatho carries it away.

Tybalt, you Rat-catcher, will you walke?

Tib. What woulds thou haue with me?

Mer. Good King of Cats, nothing but one of your nine
liues, that I meane to make bold withall, and as you ſhal
vſe me hereafter dry beate the rest of the eight. Will you
pluſ your Sword out of his Pilcher by the eares ? Make
haſt, leaſt mine be about your eares ere it be out.

Tib. I am for you.

Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy Rapier vp.

Mer. Come fir, your Paſſado.

Rom. Draw Bennolio, beat downe their weapons :
Gentlemen, for shame forbeare this outrage,
Tibalt, Mercutio, the Prince expreſſly hath
Forbidden bandying in Verona streetes.

Hold Tybalt, good Mercutio.

Exit Tybalt.

Mer. I am hurt.

A plague both the Housſes, I am ſped:

Is he gone and hath nothing ?

Ben. What art thou hurt ?

Mer. I, I, a ſcratch, a ſcratch, marry 'tis enough,
Where is my Page? go Villaine fetch a Surgeon.

Rom. Courage man, the hurt cannot be much.

Mer. No : 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a
Church doore, but 'tis enough, 'twill ſerue : aske for me to
morrow, and you ſhall find me a graue man. I am pepper'd
I warrant for this world : a plague a both your houſes.
What, a Dog, a Rat, a Monſe, a Car to ſcratch a man to
death : a Braggart, a Rogue, a Villaine, that ſights by the
booke of Arithmeticke, why the deu'le came you be-
twene vs? I was hurt vnder your arme.

Rom. I thought all for the beſt.

Mer. Help me into some houſe Bennuolio,
Or I shall faint: a plague a both your houſes.

They haue made wormes meat of me,

65

I haue it, and foundly to your Houfes.

Exit.

Rome. This Gentleman the Princes neere Alie,
My very Friend hath got his morall hurt
In my behalfe,my reputation stain'd
With Tibaltz flaunder, Tybalt that an houre
Hath beene my Cozin:O Sweet Iuliet,
Thy Beauty hath made me Effeminate,
And in my temper loftned Valours ſteele.

Enter Bennolio.

Ben. O Romeo,Romeo, brave Mercutio's is dead,
That Gallant spirit the Cloudes,
Which too vntimely here did ſcorne the earth.

Rome. This daies blacke Fate, on mo daies doth depend,
This but begins, the wo others muſt end.

Enter Tybalt.

Ben. Here comes the Furious Tybalt backe againe.

Rome. He gon in triumph, and Mercutio flaine?

Away to heauen respective Lenitie,
And fire and Fury, be my condu& now.

Now Tybalt take the Villaine backe againe
That late thou gauſt me, for Mercutio ſoule
Is but a little way aboue our heads,
Staying for thine to keepe him companie :
Either thou or I, or both, muſt goe with him.

Tib. Thou wretched Boy that didst conſort him here,
Shalt with him hence.

Rome. This ſhall determine that.

They fight. Tybalt falles.

Ben. Romeo, away-be gone:
The Citizens are vp, and Tybalt flaine,
Stand not amaz'd, the Prince will Doome thee death
If thou art taken hence, be gone, away.

Rome. O ! I am Fortunes ſoole.

Ben. Why doſt thou stay?

Exit Romeo.

Enter Citizens.

Citi. Which way ran he that kild Mercutio?

Tibalt that Murtherer, which way ran he?

Ben. There lies that Tybalt.

Citi. Vp fir go with me :

Icharge thee in the Princes names obey.

Enter Prince, old Montague, Capulet, their
Wines and all.

Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this Fray ?

Ben. O Noble Prince, I can diſcover all

The vnluckie Mannage of this fatall brall:
There lies the man flaine by young Romeo,
That flew thy kinfman braue Mercutio.

Cap. Wi. Tybalt,my Cozin ? O my Brothers Child,
O Prince,O Cozin,Husband,O the blood is spild
Of my deare kinfman.Prince as thou art true,
For blood of ours, ſhed blood of Mountague.
O Cozin, Cozin.

Prin. Bennolio, who began this Fray ?

Ben. Tybalt here flaine, whom Romeo's hand did flay,
Romeo that spoke him faire, bid him bethinke
How nice the Quarrell was, and vrg'd withall
Your high displeasure: all this vnterred,
With gentle breath,calme looke,knees humbly bow'd
Could not take truce with the vnruly ſpleene
Of Tybaltz deafe to peace, but that he Tilts
With Peircing ſteele at bold Mercutio's breast,
Who all as hot,turne s deadly point to point,
And with a Martiall ſcorne, with one hand beates
Cold death afide, and with the other ſends
It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity

Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud,
Hold Friends, Friends part, and swifter then his tongue,
His aged arme, beats downe their fatall points,
And twixt them rushes, underneath whose arme,
An euious thrust from Tybalt, hit the life
Of ſout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled.

But by and by comes backe to Romeo,
Who had but newly entertained Reuenge,
And too't they goe like lightning, for ere I
Could draw to part them, was ſout Tybalt flaine:
And as he fell, did Romeo turne and flie:
This is the truth, or let Bennolio die.

Cap. Wi. He is a kinfman to the Mountague,
Affection makes him falſe, he ſpeakes not true:
Some twenty of them fought in this blacke ſtrife,
And all thatſe twenty could but kill one life.

I beg for Iuſtice, which thou Prince muſt giue:

Romeo flew Tybalt, Romeo muſt not lie.

Prin. Romeo flew him, he flew Mercutio,
Who now the price of his deare blood dorth owe.

Cap. Not Romeo Prince, he was Mercutios Friend,
His fault concludes, but what the law should end,
The life of Tybalt.

Prin. And for that offence,
Immediately we doe exile him hence:
I haue an intereſt in your hearts proceeding:
My blood for your rude brawles doth lie a bleeding.
But Ile Amerce you with ſo strong a fine,
That you ſhall all repent the loſſe of mine.
It will be deafe to pleading and excufes,
Nor teares, nor prayers shall purchafe our abufes.
Therefore vſe none, let Romeo hence in haſt,
Elſe when he is found, that houre is his laſt.
Beare hence this body, and attend our will :
Mercy not Murders, pardoning thate that kill.

Exeunt.

Enter Iuliet alone.

Iul. Gallop apace, you fiery footed fleedes,
Towards Phebus lodging,fuch a Wagoner
As Phaeton would whip you to the weſt,
And bring in Cloudie night immediately.
Spred thy cloſe Curtaine Loue-performing night,
That run-awayes eyes may wincke, and Romeo
Leape to theſe armes, vntalkt of and vnſeele,
Louers can ſee to doe their Amorous rights,
And by their owne Beauties:or if Loue be blind,
It beſt agrees with night: come ciuill night,
Thou ſober ſuted Matron all in blacke,
And learne me how to looke a winning match,
Plaid for a paire of ſrainleſſe Maidenhoods,
Hood my vnman'd blood bayting in my Cheekes,
With thy Blacke mantle, till ſtrange Loue grow bold,
Thinke true Loue acted ſimple modelſtie :

Come night, come Romeo, come thou day in night,

For thou wilt lie vpon the wings of night

Whiter then new Snow vpon a Raues backe:

Come gentle night, come louing blackebrow'd night.

Give me my Romeo, and when I ſhall die,
Take him and cut him out in little starres,
And he will make the Face of heauen ſo fine,
That all the world will be in Loue with night,
And pay no worſhip to the Garish Sun,
O I haue bought the Manſion of a Loue,
But not poſſed it, and though I am ſold,
Not yet enioy'd, so tedious is this day,
As is the night before ſome Feſtuall,

ff 3

To

66

To an impatient child that bath new robes
And may not wear them, O here comes my Nurse :

Enter Nurse with cords.
And she brings newes and every tongue that speaks

But *Romeo's*, name, *speakes* heauenly eloquence:
Now Nurse, what newes? what haſt thou there?

The Cordes that *Romeo* bid thee fetch ?

Nur. I, I, the Cordes.

Iuli. Ay me, what newes ?

Why doſt thou wring thy hands.

Nur. A wELady, hee's dead, hee's dead,
We are vndone Lady, we are vndone.

Alacke the day, hee's gone, hee's kil'd, he's dead.

Iul. Can heauen be so enuious ?

Nur. *Romeo* can,

Though heauen cannot, *O* *Romeo*, *Romeo*,
Who euer would haue thought it *Romeo*.

Iuli. What diuell art thou,

That doſt torify me thus ?

This torture should be roar'd in diſmall hell,
Hath *Romeo* flaine himselfe ? ſay thou but I,
And that bare vowell I ſhall poyſon more
Then the death-darting eye of Cockatrice,
I am not I, if there be ſuch an I.

Or those eyes ſhot, that makes thee anſwere I:

If he be flaine ſay I, or if not, no.

Briefe, ſounds, determine of my weale or wo.

Nur. I faw the wound, I faw it with mine eyes,
God faue the marke, here on his manly breſt,
A pitteous Coarſe, a bloody piteous Coarſe:
Pale, pale as aſhes, all bedawb'd in blood,
All in gore blood, I founded at the fight-

Iul. O breake my heart,

Poore Banckrout breake at once,

To prifon eyes, nere looke on libertie.

Vile earth to earth reſigne, end motion here,

And thou and *Romeo* preſſe on heauie beere.

Nur. O *Tybalt*, *Tybalt*, the beſt Friend I had:

O curteous *Tybalt* honest Gentleman,
That euer I should liue to ſee thee dead.

Iul. What ſtorme is this that blowes ſo contrarie?
Is *Romeo* flaughtred ? and is *Tybalt* dead ?

My deareſt Cozen, and my dearer Lord:

Then dreadfull Trumpet found the generall doome,

For who is liuing, if those two aregone ?

Nur. *Tybalt* is gone, and *Romeo* banifhed,
*Romeo* that kil'd him, he is banifhed.

Iul. O God!

Did *Romeo's* hand ſhed *Tybalts* blood

It did, it did, alas the day, it did.

Nur. O Serpent heart, hid with a flowring face.

Iul. Did euer Dragon keepe ſo faire a Caue ?

Beautifull Tyrant, ſiend Angelicall :

Rauenous Doue-feather'd Rauen,

Woluſh-rauening Lambe,

Dispſed Subſtance of Diuineſt ſhow :

Iuſt oppoſite to what thou iuſtly ſeem'st,

A dimne Saint, an Honourable Villaine:

O Nature ! what had ſt thou to doe in hell,

When thou did'ſt bower the ſpirit of a ſiend

In mortall paradife of ſuch ſweet ſleſh ?

Was euer booke containing ſuch vile matter

So fairely bound ? O that deceit ſhould dwell
in ſuch a gorgeous Pallace.

Nur. There's no truſt, no faith, no honeſtie in men,
All periu'd, all forſworne, all naught, all diſſemblers,

Ah where's my man ? giue me some *Aqua-vitæ*?

Theseſe grieſes, theseſe woes, theseſe ſorrowes make me old:

Shame come to *Romeo*.

Iul. Blifter'd be thy tongue

For ſuch a wifſ, he was not borne to ſhame :

Vpon his brow ſhame is aſham'd to ſit ;

For 'tis a throane where Honour may be Crown'd

Sole Monarch of the vnuerfall earth:

O what a beaſt was I to chide him ?

Nur. Will you ſpeake well of him,
That kil'd your Cozen?

Iul. Shall I ſpeake ill of him that is my husband?

Ah poore my Lord, what tongue ſhall I smooth thy name,
When I thy three houres wife haue mangled it.

But wherefore Villaine did'ſt thou kill my Cozin?

That Villaine Cozin would haue kil'd my husband :

Backe ſooliſh teares, backe to your native ſpring,

Your tributarie drops belong to woe,

Which you miſtaking offer vp to ioy :

My husband liues that *Tibalt* would haue ſlaine,
And *Tibalt* dead that would haue ſlaine my husband:

All this is comfort, wherefore weepe I then?

Some words there was worſer then *Tybalts* death
That murdered me, I would ſorget it ſeine,

But oh, it preſſes to my memory,

Like damned guilty deedes to finners minds,

*Tybalt* is dead and *Romeo* banifhed :

That banifhed, that one word banifhed,
Hath flaine ten thouſand *Tibalts*; *Tibalts* death

Was woe enough if it had ended there:

Or if ſower woe delights in fellowship,

And neelyll will be rankt with other grieſes,

Why followed not when ſhe ſaid *Tibalts* dead,

Thy Father or thy Mother, nay or both,

Which moderne lamentation may haue moud.

But which a rere-ward following *Tybalts* death
*Romeo* is banifhed to ſpeake that word,

Is Father, Mother, *Tybalt*, *Romeo*, *Iuliet*,

All flaine, all dead: *Romeo* is banifhed,

There is no end, no limit, meaſure, bound,

In that words death, no words can that woe found.

Where is my Father and my Mother Nurse ?

Nur. Weeping and wailing ouer *Tybalts* Coarſe,
Will you go to them ? I will bring you thither.

Iu. Wath they his wounds with tears; mine ſhal be ſpent
When theirs are drie for *Romeo*'s banifhment.

Take vp those Cordes, poore ropes you are beguil'd,
Both you and I for *Romeo* is exild:

He made you for a high-way to my bed,
But I a Maid, die Maiden widowed.

Come Cord, come Nurse, Ile to my wedding bed,
And death not *Romeo*, take my Maiden head.

Nur. Hie to your Chamber, Ile find *Romeo*
To comfort you, I wot well where he is:
Harke ye your *Romeo* will be here at night,
Ile to him, he is hid at Lawrence Cell.

Iul. O find him, giue this Ring to my true Knight,
And bid him come, to take his laſt farewell.

Exit.

Enter Frier and *Romeo*.

Fri. *Romeo* come forth,
Come forth thou fearfull man,

Affliation is enamor'd of thy parts :

And thou art wedded to calamity.

Rom. Father what newes ?

What

The Tragedie of Romeo and Iuliet.

67

What is the Princes Doome?

What forrow craues acquaintance at my hand,
That I yet know not?

Fri. Too familiar

Is my deare Sonne with such fowre Company :
I bring thee tydings of the Princes Doome.

Rom. What leſſe then Doomeſday,
Is the Princes Doome ?

Fri. A gentler iudgement vanifhed from his lips,
Not bodies death, but bodies banifhment.

Rom. Ha, banifhment be mercifull, ſay death :

For exile hath more terror in his looke,
Much more then death: do not ſay banifhment.

Fri. Here from Verona art thou banifhed :

Bepatients, for the world is broad and wide.

Rom. There is no world without Verona walles,
But Purgatorie, Torture, hell it ſelfe :

Hence banifhed, is banifhed from the world,

And worlds exile is death. Then banifhed,
Is death, miſtearn'd, calling death banifhed,
Thou cutt it my head off with a golden Axe,
And ſmileſt vpon the ſroke that murders me.

Fri. O deadly ſin, O rude vnthankefulneſſe!

Thy falt my Law called death, but the kind Prince
Taking thy part, hath rufht abide the Law,
And turn'd that blacke word death, to banifhment.
This is deare mercy, and thou ſeeth it not.

Rom. 'Tis Torture and not mercy, heauen is here
Where Iuliet liues, and every Cat and Dog,

And little Mouſe, euery vnworthy thing
Liue here in Heauen and may looke on her,

But Romeo may not. More Validitie,
More Honourable ſtate, more Courtship liues
In carriu Flies, then Romeo: they may ſeaze
On the white wonder of deare Iuliets hand,
And ſteale immortall bleſſing from her liues,
Who euen in pure and vcttall mod ſtyleſt
Still bluſh, as thinking their owne kiffes ſin.

This may Flies doc, when I from this muſt ſlie,
And ſaith thou yet, that exile is not death ?

But Romeo may not, hee is banifhed.

Had it thou no poyſon mixt, no ſharpe ground knife,
No sudden meane of death, though nere ſo meane,
But banifhed to kill me? Banifhed?

O Frier, the damned vſe that word in nell :
Howlings attends it, how haſt thou the hart
Being a Divine, a Ghoſtly Confessor,

A Sin-Abſoluer, and my Friend proſeſt :

To mangle me with that word, banifhed ?

Fri. Then fond Mad man, heare me ſpeake.

Rom. O thou wilt ſpeake againe of banifhment.

Fri. Ile giue thee Armour to keepe off that word,
Aduerſities ſycete milke, Philofophie,

To comfort thee, though thou art banifhed.

Rom. Yet banifhed? hang vp Philofophie?

Vnleſſe Philofohpie can make a Iuliet,
Displant a Towne, reuerſe a Princes Doome,
It helps not, it preuails not, talke no more.

Fri. O then I ſee, that Mad men haue no eares.

Rom. How should they,
When wifemen haue no eyes ?

Fri. Let me diſpaire with thee of thy eſtate,

Rom. Thou can't not ſpeake of that I doſt not ſeefe,

Wert thou as young as Iuliet my Loue:
An houre but married, Tybalt murdered,

Doting like me, and like me banifhed,

Then mighteſt thou ſpeake,
Then mighteſt thou teare thy hayre,

And fall vpon the ground as I doe now,
Taking the meaſure of an vnmade graue.

Enter Nurſe, and knoſſe.

Fri. Arife one knoſſe,
Good Romeo hide thy ſelfe.

Rom. Not I,

Vnleſſe the breath of Hartſicke groanes

Mift-like infold me from the ſearch of eyes.

Fri. Harke how they knoſſe :

(Who's there?) Romeo arife,

Thou wilt be taken, ſtay a while, ſtand vp :

Knocke.

Run to my ſtudy: by and by, God's will

What ſimpleneſſe iſthis: I come, I come.

Knocke.

Who knoſſes ſo hard ?

Whence come you ? what's your will ?

Enter Nurſe.

Nur. Let me come in,

And you ſhall know my errand :

I come from Lady Iuliet.

Fri. Welcome then.

Nur. O holy Frier, O tell me holy Frier,

Where's my Ladies Lord? where's Romeo ?

Fri. There on the ground,

With his owne teares made drunke.

Nur. O he is euen in my Miftreſſe cafe,
Iuſt in her cafe, O woſuſl ſimpathy:

Pittious predicament, euen ſo lies ſhe,

Blubbring and weeping, weeping and blubbring,

Stand vp, ſtand vp, ſtand and you be a man,

For Iuliets ſake, for her ſake rife and ſtand :

Why should you fall into ſo deepe an O.

Rom. Nurſe.

Nur. Ah ſh, ah ſir, deaths the end of all.

Rom. Speak it thou of Iuliet? how is it with her?

Doth not ſhe thinke me an old Murtherer,

Now I haue ſtain'd the Childhood of our ioy,

With blood remoued, but little from her owne ?

Where is ſhe ? and how doth ſhe ? and what ſayes

My conceal'd Lady to our conceal'd Loue?

Nur. Oh ſhe ſayes nothing fir, but weeps and weeps,
And now faſs on her bed, and then ſtarts vp,

And Tybalt calls, and then on Romeo cries,

And then downe falls againe.

Ro. As if that name ſhot from the dead leuell of a Gun,
Did murder her, as that names curſed hand

Murdred her kinfman. Oh tell me Frier, tell me,

In what vile part of this Anatomic

Doth my name lodge ? Tell me, that I may ſacke

The hatefull Manſion.

Fri. Hold thy desperate hand :

Art thou a man ? thy ſorme cries out thou art :

Thy teares are womaniſh, thy wild aſts denote

The vunreafonable Furie of a beaſt.

Vnſeemely woman, in a ſeeming man,
And ill beſeeming beaſt in ſeeming both,

Thou haſt amaz'd me. By my holy order,

I thought thy diſpoſition better temper'd.

Haſt thou flaine Tybalt ? wilt thou ſlay thy ſelfe ?

And ſlay thy Lady, that in thy life lies,

By doing damned hate vpon thy ſelfe?

Why rayl't thou on thy birth? the heauen and earth ?

Since

68

Since birth, and heauen and earth, all three do meete
In thee at once, which thou at once wouldst looke,
Fie, fie, thou flam't thy shape, thy loue, thy wit,
Which like a Vfuer abound't in all :
And vfe't none in that true vfe indeed,
Which should bedecke thy shape, thy loue, thy wit:
Thy Noble shape, is but a forme of waxe,
Digreffing from the Valour of a man,
Thy deare Loue is worne but hollow periurie,
Killing that Loue which thou haft yow'd to cherifh.
Thy wit, that Ornament, to shape and Loue,
Mifhapen in the conduct of them both :
Like powder in a skillesſe Souldiers flaske,
Is fet a fire by thine owne ignorance,
And thou diſmembred with thine owne defence.
What, rowſe thee man, thy Juliet is aliue,
For whoſe deare ſake thou waſt but lately dead.
There art thou happy. *Tybalt* would kill thee,
But thou flew't *Tybalt*, there art thou happie.
The law that threatened death became thy Friend,
And turn'd it to exile, there art thou happy.
A packe or bleſſing light vpon thy backe,
Happinesſe Courts thee in her beſt array,
But like a mifhaped and ſullen wench,
Thou putſeu vp thy Fortune and thy Loue:
Take heed, take heed, for ſuch die miferable.
Goe get thee to thy Loue as was decreed,
Ascend her Chamber, hence and comfort her:
But looke thou ſlay not till the watch be ſet,
For then thou canſt not paffè to *Mantua*,
Where thou Chalt liue till we can finde a time
To blaze your marriage, reconcile your Friends,
Beg pardon of thy Prince, and call thee backe,
With twenty hundred thouſand times more ioy
Then thou went't ſonth in lamentation.
Goe before Nurſe, commend me to thy Lady,
And bid her haſten all the houſe to bed,
Which heavy ſorrow makes them apt vnto.
*Romeo is comming.*

Nur. O, Lord, I could haue ſtand here all night,
To heare good counſell: oh what learning is!
My Lord, Ile tell my Lady you will come.

Rom. Do ſo, and bid my Sweete prepare to chide.

Nur. Hecre fir, a Ring ſhe bid me gie you fir:
Hie you, make haſt, for it growes very late.

Rom. How well my comfort is reuii'd by this.

Fri. Go hence,

Goodnight, and here stands all your state:
Either be gone before the watch be ſet,
Or by the breake of day disguſ'd from hence,
Soiourne in *Mantua*, Ile find out your man,
And he shall ſignifie from time to time,
Euery good hap to you, that chaunces heere:
Gine me thy hand, 'tis late, farewell, goodnight.

Rom. But that a joy paſt ioy, calls out on me,
It were a griefe, to briefe to part with thee:
Farewell.
Exeunt.

Enter old Capulet, his Wife and Park.

Cap. Things haue falne out fir so vnluckily,
That we haue had no time to moue our Daughter:
Looke you, the Lou'd her kinfman *Tybalt* dearely,
And so did I. Well, we were borne to die.
'Tis very late, she'l not come downe to night :
I promise you, but for your company,

I would haue bin a bed an houre ago.

Par. Theſe times of wo, affoord no times to woo:
Madam goodnight, commend me to your Daughter.

Lady. I will, and know her mind early to morrow,
To night, ſhe is mewed vp to her heauinesſe.

Cap. Sir *Paris*, I will make a desſerate tender
Of my Childes loue: I thinke ſhe will be rul'd
In all reſpeſt by me: nay more, I doubt it not.
Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed,
Acquaint her here, of my Sonne *Paris* Loue,
And bid her, marke you me, on Wendſday next,
But ſoft, what day is this?

Par. Monday my Lord.

Cap. Monday, ha ha well Wendſday is too ſoon,
A Thursday let it be: a Thursday tell her,
She shall be married to this Noble Earle:
Will you be ready ? do you like this haſt?
Wee keepe no great adoe, a Friend or two,
For harke you, *Tybalt* being flaine so late,
It may be thought we held him careſely,
Being our kinfman, if we retell much :
Therefore weele haue ſome haſſe a dozen Friends,
And there an end. But what ſay you to Thursday?

Paris. My Lord,

I would that Thursday were to morrow.

Cap. Well, get you gone, a Thursday, be it then:
Go you to *Juliet* ere you go to bed,
Prepare her wife, againſt this wedding day.
Farewell my Lord, light to my Chamber hoa,
Afore me, it is so late, that we may call in carly by and by,
Goodnight.
Exeunt.

Enter Romeo and Juliet aloft.

Iul. Wilt thou be gone ? It is not yet neere day :
It was the Nightingale, and not the Larke,
That pier 't the fearefull hollow of thine eare,
Nighting ſhe ſings on yond Pomgranat tree,
Beleeue me Loue, it was the Nightingale.

Rom. It was the Larke the Herald of the Morn:
No Nightingale: looke Loue what enuious ſteakes
Do lace the feuering Cloudes in yonder East:
Nights Candles are burnt out, and Iocond day
Stands tipto on the miſſe Mountaines tops,
I muſt be gone and liue, or ſtay and die.

Iul. Yond light is not daylight, I know it I:
It is ſome Meteor that the Sun exhales,
To be to thee this night a Torch-bearer,
And light thee on thy way to *Mantua*.
Therefore ſtay yet, thou need'st not to be gone,

Rom. Let me be tane, let me be put to death,
I am content, so thou wilt haue it so.

Ile ſay you gray is not the mornings eye,
'Tis but the pale reflexe of *Cinthias* brow.
Nor that is not Larke whose noates do beate
The vaulty heauen so high aboue our heads,
I haue more care to ſtay, then will to go :

Come death and welcome, *Juliet* wills it so.
How iſt my ſoule, lets talke, it is not day.

Iuli. It is, it is, hie hence be gone away:
It is the Larke that ſings so out of tune,
Straining harſh Difcords, and vnpleafing Sharpes,
Some ſay the Larke makes ſweete Diuſion;
This doth not ſo: for he diuideth vs.
Some ſay, the Larke and loathed Toad change eyes,
O now I would they had chang'd voyces too:

Since

Since arme from arme that voyce doth vs affray,
Hunting thee hence, with Hunt -vp to the day,
O now be gone, more light and ili ght growes.

Rom. More light & light, more darke & darke our woes.

*Enter Madam and Nurse.*

Nur. Madam.

Jul. Nurfe.

Nor. Your Lady Mother is comming to your chamber,
The day is broke, be wary, looke about.

Jul. Then window let day in, and let life out.

Rom. Farewell, farewell, one kisse and I'll defend.

Jul. Art thou gone for Loue, Lord,ay Husband, Friend,
I muft heare from thee euery day in the houre,
For in a minute there are many dayes,
O by this count I shall be much in yeares,
Ere I againe behold my Romeo.

Rom. Farewell:

I will omit no oportunitie,

That may conuey my greetings Loue, 'o thee.

Jul. O thinkest thou we shall euer meet againe?

Rom. I doubt it not, and all these woes shall ferue
For sweet difcourses in our time to come.

Juliet. O God! I haue an ill Duining foule,
Me thinkes I fee the now,thou art so lowe,
As one dead in the bottome of a Tombe,
Either my eye-fight failes, or thou look't pale.

Rom. And trust me Loue, in my eye so do you:
Drie sorrow drinkes our blood. Adue, adue.

Exit.

Jul. O Fortune, Fortune, all men call thee fickle,
If thou art fickle, what doth thou with him
That is renown'd for faith? be fickle Fortune:
For then I hope thou wilt not keepe him long,

But bend him backe.

*Enter Mother.*

Lad. Ho Daughter, are you vp ?

Jul. Who if that calls ? Is it my Lady Mother.
Is she not downe so late, or vp so early?

What vnaccuſtom'd cauſe procures her hither?

Lad. Why, how now Juliet?

Jul. Madam I am not well.

Lad. Euen more weeping for your Cozins death ?
What wilt thou waſh him from his graue with teares ?

And if thou could'ſt, thou could'ſt not make him lioe:
Therefore haue done, ſome griefe ſhewes much of Loue,
But much of griefe, ſhewes ſill ſome want of witt.

Jul. Yet let me weep, for ſuch a feeling lOffice.

Lad. So shall you feele the lOffice, but not the Friend
Which you weep for.

Jul. Feeling fo the lOffice,

I cannot chuse but euer weep the Friend.

La. Well Girl, thou weep'ſt not so much for his death,
As that the Villaine liues which flaughte d him.

Jul. What Villaine, Madam?

Lad. That fame Villaine Romeo.

Jul. Villaine and he, be many Miles affunder:
God pardon, I doe with all my heart:

And yet no man like he, doth griue my heart.

Lad. That is because the Traitor lives.

Jul. I Madam from the reach of these my hands i
Would none but I might venge my Cozins death.

Lad. We will haue vengeance for it, ſcare thou not.
Then weep no more, Ile tend to one in Mantua,
Where that fame banisht Run agate doth lioe,
That giue him ſuch an vnaccuſtom'd drame,
That he shall ſoon keepe Tybalt company.
And then I hope thou wilt be ſatisfied.

Jul. Indeed I neuer shall be ſatisfied

With Romeo, till I behold him. Dead

Is my poor heart so for a kinfman vext:

Madam if you could find out but a man

To beare a poyſon, I would temper it;

That Romeo should vpon receit thereof,

Soone sleepe in quiet. O how my heart abhors

To heare him nam'd, and cannot come to him

To wreake the Loue I bore my Cozin,

Vpon his body that hath flautcher'd him.

Mo. Find thou the meanes, and Ile find ſuch a man.

But now Ile tell thee ioyfull tidings Gyrle.

Jul. And ioy comes well, in ſuch a needy time,

What are they, befeech your Ladyship?

Mo. Well, well, thou haſt a careful Father Child?

One who to put thee from thy heauinelle,

Hath forted out a ſudden day of ioy,

That thou expeſts not, nor I lookt not for.

Jul. Madam in happy time, what day is this?

Mo. Marry my Child, early next Thursday morne,

The gallant young, and Noble Gentleman,

The Countie Paris at Saint Peters Church,

Shall happily make thee a ioyfull Bride.

Jul. Now by Saint Peters Church, and Peter too,
He shall not make me there a ioyfull Bride.

I wonder at this haſt, that I muſt wed

Ere he that should be Husband comes to woe:

I pray you tell my Lord and Father Madam,

I will not marrie yet, and when I doe, I weare

It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate

Rather then Park. There are newes indeed.

Mo. Here comes your Father, tell him so your selfe,
And fee how he will take it at your hands.

*Enter Capulet and Nurse.*

Cap. When the Sun sets, the earth doth drizzle dew
But for the Sunſet of my Brothers Sonne,
It raines downright.

How now ? A Conduit Gyrle, what fill in teares ?
Euermore ſhowring in one little body ?

Thou counterfaits a Barke, a Sea, a Wind :

For fill thy eyes, which I may call the Sea,

Do ebbe and flow with teares, the Bathe thy body is

Sayling in this ſalt floud, the windes thy ſighes,

Who raging with the teares and they with them,

Without a ſudden calme will ouer ſet

Thy temp eſt toſed body. How now wife?

Haue you delivered to her our decree?

Lady. I fir:

But she will none, ſhe giues you thanks,
I would the fooler were married to her graue.

Cap. Soft, take me with you, take me with you wife,

How, will the none doth the not giue vs thanks?

Is he not proud? doth he not count her bleſſ,

Vnworthy as he is, that we haue wrought

So worthy a Gentleman, to be her Bridegroom

Jul. Not proud you haue?

But thankfull that you haue:

Proud can I neuer be of what I haue,

But thankfull even for hate, that is meant Loue.

Cap. How now ?

How now ?

How now ? Choſt Logicke ? what is this?

Proud, and I thank you; and I thank you not,

Thank me no thatkinge, nor proud me no proudes,

But fettle your fine joints 'gainſt Thursday next,

To

79

To go with Paris, to Saint Peter's Church:

Or I will drag thee, on a hurdle thither.

Out you greene ficknesse carrion, out you baggage,
You tallow face.

Lady. Fie, fie, what are you mad?

Iul. Good Father, I bezeich you on my knees
Heare me with patience, but to speake a word.

Eu. Hang thee young baggage, disobedient wretch,
I tell thee what, get thee to Church a Thursday,
Or neuer after looke me in the face.
Speak not, reply not, do not answere me.

My fingers itch, wife: we scarce thought vs blest,
That God had lent vs but this onely Child,
But now I see this one is one too much,
And that we have a curse in hauing her:
Out on her Hilding.

Nur. God in heauen bleſſe her,

You are too blame my Lord to rate her so.

Fz. And why my Lady wifedome hold your tongue,
Good Prudence, I amatter with your goſſip, go.

Nur. I speake no treason,
Father, O Godigoden,
May not one speake ?

Fa. Peace you mumbling foole,

Vtter your grauitie ore a Goſſip's bowles
For here we need it not.

Lz. You are too hot.

Fa. God's bread, it makes me mad:

Day, night, houre, ride, time, worke, play,

Alone in company, full my care hath bin.

To haue her matcht, and hauing now prouided
A Gentleman of Noble Parentage,
Offaire Demeanes, Youthfull, and Nobly Allied,
Stuft as they fay with Honourable parts,
Propor tion'd as ones thought would with a man,
And then to haue a wretched puling foole,
A whining mammet, in her Fortunes tender,
To anſwer, Ile not wed, I cannot Loue:

I am too young, I pray you pardon me.

But, and you will not wed, Ile pardon you.

Graze where you will, you shall not houſe with me:

Looke too't, thinke on't, I do not vse to ieſt.

Thursday is neere, lay hand on heart, aduise,

And you be mine, Ile give you to my Friend:

And you be not, hang, beg,偷aue, die in the streets,

For by my ſoule, Ile nere acknowledge thee,

Nor what is mine shall neuer do thee good:

Traut too't, but thinke you, Ile not be forſworne

Exiſt.

Iul. Is there no pittie fitting in the Cloudes,

That fees into the bottome of my griefe?

O sweet my Mother, gart me not away.

Delay this marriage, for a month, a weeke,

Or if you do not, make the Bridall bed.

In that drum Monument wherefore ſybalt lies,

Mo. Talk not to me, for I not speake a word,

Do as thou will, for I hang done with thee.

Exit.

Jul. O God,

O Nurſe, how shall this be prevented?

My Husband is on earth, my faith in heauen,

How shall that faith returne againe to earth,

Vnſeſſe that Husband ſend it me from heauen,

By leauing earth ? Comfort me, counſaile me ;

Hlacke, alacke, that heauen should praſe the ſtaragems,

Vpon so ſoft a ſubject as my ſelfe.

What gart thou haſt thou not a word of joy?

Some comfort Nurſe.

Nur. Faith here it is,

Romeo is banifhed, and all the world to nothing,
That he dares nere come backe to challenge you:
Or if he do, it needs muſt be by ſtealth.

Then ſince the cafe ſo stands as now it doth,
I thinke it beſt you married with the Countie,

O h'ce's a Louely Gentleman :
Romeo's a diſh-clout to him: an Eagle Madam

Hath not ſorgreene, ſo quicke, ſo faire an eye
As Paris hath, beſhrow my very heart,

I thinke 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 liuing here and you no vſe of him.

Iul. Speakeſt thou from thy heart?

Nur. And from my ſoule too,
Or else beſhrew them both.

Iul. Amen.

Nur. What?

Iul. Well, thou haſt comforſed me marue'lous much,
Goin, and tell my Lady I am gone,

Hauing diſplea'd my Father, to Lawrence Cell,

To make conſeſſion, and to be absolu'd.

Nur. Marrie I will, and this is wifely done,

Iul. Auncient damnation, O moſt wicked fiend!

It is more ſin to wſh me thus forſworne,

Or to diſpraſe my Lord with that fame tongue,

Which ſhe hath prai'd him with aboue compare,

So many thousand times ? Go Countellor,

Thou and my boſtoh, henchforth shall be twaine:

Ile to the Frier to know his remedie,

If all eſſe ſaile, my ſelfe haue power to die.

Exiſt.

Euter Frier and Countie Paris.

Fri. On Thursday first the time is very ſhort.

Par. My Father Capulet will haue it so,
And I am nothing flow to slack his haſt.

Fri. You ſay you do not know the Ladies mind?

Vneuen is the course, I like it nor.

Pa. Immoderately ſhe weepes for Tybalts death,

And therefore I haue little take of Loue,

For Venns ſmiles not in a house of teares.

Now fir, her Father ſeunts it dangerous

That ſhe doth giue her forrow so much ſway:

And in his wifedome, haſts our marriage,

To ſtop the inundation of her teares,

Which too much minded by her ſelfe alone,

May be put from her by ſocietie.

Now who do you know the reason of this haſt?

Fri. I would I knew not why it should be ſtow'd.

Looke fir, here comes the Lady towards my Cell.

Enter Iuliet.

Par. Happily met, my Lady and my wife.

Iul. That may be fir, when I may be a wife.

Par. That may be fir, be ſo, on Thursday next.

Iul. What muſt be ſhall be.

Fri. That's a certaine text.

Par. Come you to make conſeſſion to this Father?

Iul. To anſwere that, I should conſeſſe to you,

Par. Do not denie to him, that you Loue me.

Iul. I will conſeſſe to you that I Loue him.

Par. So will ye, I am ſure that you Loue me.

Iul. If I do ſo, it will be of more price,

Benig ſpoke behind your backe, then to your face.

Par. Poore ſoule, thy face is much abuſhed with teares.

Iul. The

Iul. The teares haue got small victorie by that:
For it was bad enough before their spight.
Pa. Thou wrong'd it more then teares with that report.

Iul. That is no flaunder fir, which is a truth,
And what I pake, I pake it to thy face.
Par. Thy face is mine, and thou haft flaundred it.
Iul. It may be so, for it is not mine owne,
Are you at leisure, Holy Father now,
Or shall I come to you at evening Maſſe?

Fri. My leifure ſerues me penſive daughter now.
My Lord you muſt intreat the time alone.
Par. Godſhield: I ſhouſt difturb e Deuotion,
Iuliet, on Thursday early will I rowe yee,
Till then adue, and keepe this holy kiffle.
Exit Paris.
Iul. O ſhut the doore, and when thou haſt done so,
Come weepe with me, paſt hope, paſt care, paſt helpe.
Fri. O Iuliet, I alicadie know thy griefe,
It ſtreames me paſt the compaſſe of my wits:
I heare thou muſt and nothing may prorogue it,
On Thursday next be married to this Countie,
Iul. Tell me not Frier that thou heareſt of this,
Vnleſſe thou tell me how I may preuent it:
If in thy w. ſedome, thou canſt gine no helpe,
Do thou but call my reſolution wife,
And with his knife, Ile helpe it p[ro]ſentiau.
Godioyn'd my heart, and Romeo's, thou our hands,
And ere this hand bythee to Romeo ſeel'd:
Shall be the Labell to another Deede,
Or my true heart with trecherous reuolt,
Turne to another, this ſhall flay them both:
Therefore out of thy long expetien't time,
Gue me ſome preſent counſell, or behold
Twixt my extreames and me, this bloody knife
Shall play the vnpeere, arbitrating that,
Which the commiſſion of thy yeares and art,
Could to no ſiſſe of true honour bring:
Be not ſo long to ſpeak, I long to die,
If what thou [peak]t, [peake] not of remedy.
Fri. Hold Daughter, I doe ſpie a kind of hope,
Which craues as desperate an execution,
Aſthat is desperate which we would preuent.
If rather then to marrie Countie Paris
Thou haſt the ſtrength of will to ſtay thy ſelfe,
Then is it likely thou wilt vndertake
A thinglike death to chide away this ſhame,
That coap't with death himſelfe, to ſcape fro it:
And if thou dar't, Ile gue thee remedie.
Iul. On bid me leape, rather then marrie Paris,
From the Battlements of any Tower,
Or walke in theeuſh waies, or bid me lurke
Where Serpents are: chaine me with roaring Beares
Or hide me nightly in a Charnell houſe,
Orecovered quite with dead mens ratling bones,
With reckie ſhankes and yellow chappels ſculſs:
Or bid me go into a new made graue,
And hide me with a dead man in his graue,
Things that to heare them told, have made me tremble,
And I will do it without ſeare or doubt,
To lie an vnſtained wife to my ſweeet Loue.
Fri. Hold then: goe home, be merrie, giue conſent,
To marrie Paris: wenſday is to morrow,
To morrow night looke that thou lie alone,
Let not thy Nurse lie with thee in thy Chamber:
Take thou this Violl being then in bed,
And this diltingling liquor drinke thou off,
When preſently through all thy veines ſhall run,

A cold and drowſe humour: for no pulſe
Shall keepe his natine progreſſe, but ſurceſe:
No warmth, no breath shall teſtifie thou luſeſt,
The Rofes in thy lips and cheekes ſhall fade
To many aſhes, the eyes windowſ fall
Like death when he ſhut vp the day of life:
Each part depriu'd of ſupple government,
Shall tſſiſe and ſtarke, and cold appeare like death,
And in this borrowed likeneſſe of ſhrunke death
Thou ſhalt continue two and forty houres,
And then awake, as from a p[le]aſant ſleep.
Now when the Bridegroome in the morning comes,
To rowſe thee from thy bed, there art thou dead:
Then as the manner of our country is,
In thy beſt Robes vncouer'd on the Beere,
Be borne to buriall in thy kindreds graue:
Thou ſhalt be borne to that fame ancient vault,
Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie,
In the meane time againſt thou ſhalt awake,
Shall Romeo by my Letters know our drift,
And hither ſhall he come, and that very night
Shall Romeo beare thee hence to Mantua.
And this ſhall free thee from this preſent ſhame,
If no inſconstant toy nor womaniſh ſeare,
Abate thy valour in the acting it.

Iul. Giue me, giue me, O tell not me of care.

Fri. Hold get you gone, be ſtrong and p[ros]perous:
In this refolue, Ile ſend a Frier with ſpeed
To Mantua with my Letters to thy Lord.

Iu. Loue giue me ſtrength,
And ſtrength ſhall helpe afford:
Farewell deare father.

Exit

Enter Father Capulet, Mother, Nurse, and
Serving men, two or three.

Cap. So many guests inuite as here are writ,
Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning Cookes.

Ser. You shall haue none ill ſir, for Ile trie if they can
lieke their fingers.

Cap. How canſt thou trie them ſo?

Ser. Marrie fir, 'tis an ill Cooke that cannot lieke his
owne ſingers: therefore he that cannot lieke his ſingers
goes not with me.

Cap. Go be gone, we ſhall be much vnſurniſt for this
time: what is my Daughter gone to Frier Lawrence?

Nur. I for ſooth.

Cap. Well he may chance to do ſome good on her,
A p[er]uſſe ſelfe-wild harlotry it is.

Enter Juliet.

Nur. See where the comes from ſhriſt
With merrie looke.

Cap. How now my headstrong,
Where haue you bin gadding?

Iul. Where I haue learnt me to repent the ſin
Of disobedient oppofition:
To you and your beheſts, and am enioyn'd
By holy Lawrence, to fall proſtrate here,
To beg your pardon: pardon I beſeech you,
Henceforward I am euer rul'd by you.

Cap. Send for the Countie, goe tell him of this,
Ile haue this knot knit vp to morrow morning.

Iul. I met the youthfull Lord at Lawrence Cell,
And gaue him what becom'd Loue I might,
Not lepping ore the bounds of modeſtie.

Cap. Why I am glad on't, this is well, ſtand vp,

This

This is as't should be, let me see the County:
I marrie go I say, and fetch him hither.

Now afore God, this reuerend holy Frier,
All our whole Cittie is much bound to him.

Inl. Nurfe will you goe with me into my Clofet,
To helpe me forst such needfull ornaments,
As you thinke fit to furnish me to morrow?

Mo. No not till Thursday, there's time inough.

Fa. Go Nurfe, go with her,

Weele to Church to morrow.

Exeunt Juliet and Nurfe.

Mo. We shall be short in our prouifion,
'Tis now neere night.

Fa. Tush, I will stirre about,

And all things shall be well, I warrant thee wife:
Go thou to Inliet, helpe to decke vp her,
He not to bed to night, let me alone:

He play the hufwife for this once. What ho ?
They are all forth, well I will walke my selfe
To Countie Paris, to prepare him vp

Against to morrow, my heart is wondrous light,
Since this fame way-ward Gyrl is so reclaim'd.

Exeunt Father and Mother.

Enter Inliet and Nurfe.

Inl. I those attires are beſt, but gentle Nurſe
I pray thee leaue me to my ſelſe to night:

For I haue need of many Oryſons,

To moue the heauens to ſmile vpon my ſtate,

Which well thou know'st, is croſſe and full of fin.

Enter Mother.

Mo. What are you buſe ho? need you my help ?

Inl: No Madam, we haue cuſ'd ſuch neceſſaries

As are behooueſull for our ſtate to morrow :

So please you, let me now be left alone; 1.

And let the Nurſe this night fit vp with you,

For I am ſure, you haue your hands full all,

In this so ſudden buſineſſe.

Mo. Goodnight.

Get thee to bed and reſt, for thou haſt need.

Inl. Farewell :

God knowes when we ſhall meete againe.

I haue a faint cold ſeare thrills through my veines,

That almost freezes vp the heate of fire:

He call them backe againe to comfort me.

Nurſe, what should I do here ?

My diſmall ſcane, I needs muſt aſt alone:

Come Viall, what if this mixture do not worke at all?

Shall I be married then to morrow morning ?

No, no, this ſhall forbid it. Lie thou there,

What if it be a poyſon which the Frier

Subtilly hath miniftred to haue me dead,

Leaſt in this marriage he should be diſhonour'd,

Because he married me before to Romeo ?

I feare it is, and yet me thinkes it should not,

For he hath full beene tried a holy man.

How, if when I am laid into the Tombe,

I wake before the time that Romeo

Come to redeem me? There's a ſeaſefull point :

Shall I not then be ſuſſed in the Vault ?

To whose ſoule mouth no health ſome nyre breaths in,
And there die ſtrangled ere my Romeo comes.

Or if I hue, 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 theſe many hundred yeeres the bones
Of all my buried Aunceſtors are packt,

Where bloody Tybalt, yet but greene in earth,

Lies ſetring in his ſhow'd, where as they ſay,

At ſome houres in the night, Spirits reſort:

Alacke, alacke, is it not like that I
So early waking, what with loathſome ſmels,
And ſhrikes like Mandrakes torne out of the earth,
That liuing mortalls hearing them, rung mad.

O if I walke, ſhall I not be diſtraught,
Inuironed with all theſe hidious ſeares,

And madly play with my forefathers ioynts?

And plucke the mangled Tybalt from his ſhow'd?

And in this rage, with ſome great kinfmans bone,
As (with a club) dafh out my desperate braines.

O looke, me thinks I see my Cozins Ghoſt,

Seeking out Romeo that did ſpit his body

Vpon my Rapiers point: ſtay Tybalt, stay,

Romeo, Romeo, Romeo, here's drinke: I drinke to thee,

Enter Lady of the horse, and Nurfe.

Lady. Hold,

Take theſe keieſ, and fetch more ſpices Nurſe.

Nur. They call for Dates and Quinces in the Paſtiche.

Enter old Capules.

Cap. Come, fir, fir, fir, fir,

The ſecond Cocke hath Crow'd,

The Curphew Bell hath rung, 'tis three a clocke:

Looke to the bakte meates, good Angelica,

Spare not for coſt.

Nur. Go you Cot-queane, go,

Get you to bed, faith youle be ſicke to morrow

For this nights watching.

Cap. No not a whit: what ? I haue watcht ere now
All night for leſſe cauſe, and nere beene ſicke.

La. I you haue bin a Mouse-hunt in your time,
But I will watch you from such watching now.

Exit Lady and Nurſe.

Cap. A jealous hood, a jealous hood,
Now ſellow, what there?

Enter three or four with ſpits, and logs, and baskets.

Fel. Things for the Cooke fir, but I know not what.

Cap. Make haſt, make haſt, fir, fir, fetch drier Logs.

Call Peter, he will ſhow thee where they are.

Fel. I haue a head fir, that will find out logs,
And neuer trouble Peter for the matter.

Cap. Maſſe and well ſaid, a merrie horſon, ha,
Thou ſhalt be loggerhead; good Father, 'tis day.

Play Mafſe

The Countie will be here with Muſſicke ſtraight,
For ſo he ſaid he would, I heare him neere,
Nurſe, wife, what ho? what Nurſe I ſay ?

Enter Nurſe.

Go waken Inliet, go and trim her vp,

Ile go and chat with Paris: hie, make haſt,

Make haſt, the Bridegroome, he is come already:

Make haſt I ſay.

Nur. Miftris, what Miftris? Inliet? Faſt I warrant her ſin,
Why Lambe, why Lady ſhe you fluggabed,

Why Loue I ſay? Madam, sweet heart: why Bride?

What not a word ? You take your peniworths now,

Sleepe for a weeke, for the next night I warrant

The Countie Paris hath ſet vp his reſt,

That you ſhall reſt but little, God forgive me :

Marrie and Amen: how found is ſhe a sleepe ?

1

I must needs wake her: Madam, Madam, Madam,
I, let the Countie take you in your bed,
Heele fright you vp yfaith. Will it not be?

What dreft, and in your clothes, and downe againe?
I muſt needs wake you: Lady, Lady, Lady.

Alas, alas, helpe, helpe, my Ladyes dead,
Oh weladay, that euer I was borne,

Some Aqua-vitæ ho, my Lord, my Lady ?

Mo. What noife is heere ?

Nur. O lamentable day.

Mo. What is the matter ?

Nur. Looke, looke, oh heauie day.

Mo. O me, O me, my Child, my onely life :

Reuique, looke vp, or I will die with thee :

Helpe, helpe, call helpe.

Enter Father.

Fa. For shame bring Juliet forth, her Lord is come.

Nur. Shee's dead: deceaſt, shee's dead: lacke the day.

M. Alacke the day, shee's dead, shee's dead, shee's dead.

Fa. Ha? Let me fee her: out alas shee's cold,

Her blood is fetled and her ioynts are ſtiffe :

Life and theſelips haue long bene ſep erated:

Death lies on her like an untimely froſt

Vpon the ſwetſt flower of all the field.

Nur. O Lamentable day !

Mo. O wofull time.

Fa. Death that hath tane her hence to make me wail,
Ties vp my tongue, and will not let me ſpeake.

Enter Frier and the Countie.

Fri. Come, is the Bride ready to go to Church ?

Fa. Ready to go, but neuer to returne.

O Sonne, the night before thy wedding day,
Hath death laine with thy wife: there ſhe lies,
Flower as ſhe was, deflowrd by him.

Death is my Sonne in law, death is my Heire,
My Daughte r he hath wedded. I will die,
And leaue him all life luing, all is deathus.

Pa. Haue I thought long to fee this mornings face,
And doth it gie me ſuch a tight as this?

Mo. Accur'd, vnhappie, wretched hatefull days,
Moft miferable houre, that ere time saw
In laſting labour of his Pilgrimage.

But one, poore one, one louing and louing Child,
But one thing to reioyce and folace in,
And cruel death hath cateſt it from my fight.

Nur. O, wo, O wofull, wofull, wofull day,

Moft lamentable day, moſt wofull day,
That euer, euer, I did yet behold.

O day, O day, O day, O hatefull day,
Neuer was ſeene ſo blacke a day as this :

O wofull day, O wofull day.

Fa. Beguilde, diuorced, wronged, spighted, ſlaine,
Moft deteſtable death, by thee beguil'd,

By cruel, cruell thee, quite ouerthrowne :
O loue, O life, not life, but loue in death.

Fat. Despis'd, diſtressed, hated, martir'd, kil'd,
Vncomfortable time, why cam't thou now

To murther, murther our ſolennitie?

O Child, O Child; my ſoule, and not my Child,
Dead art thou, alacke my Child is dead,
And with my Child, my ioyes are buried.

Fri. Peace ho for ſhame, confusions: Care, liues not
In these confusions, heauen and your ſelfe.
Had part in this faire Maids now heauen hath all,
And all the better is it for the Maids :

But heauen keepe his part in eternall life:
The moſt you ſought was her promotion,

For 'twas your heauen, ſhe ſhould be aduan'ſt,
And weepe ye now, ſeeing ſhe is aduan'ſt

Aboue the Cloudes, as high as Heauen it ſelfe?

O in this loue, you loue your Child ſo ill,

That you run mad, ſeeing that ſhe is well:

Shee's not well married, that liues married long,

But shee's beſt married, that dies married yong.

Drie vp your teares, and flicke your Roſemarie.

On this faire Coarſe, and as the cufome is,

And in her beſt array beare her to Church:

For though ſome Nature bids all vs lament,

Yet Natures teares are Reaſons of Herriment.

Fa. All things that we ordained Feſtually,

Turne from their office to blacke Funerall:

Our instruments to melancholy Bells,

Our wedding cheare, to a ſad buriall Feaſt:

Our ſollemne Hymnes, to ſullen Dyges change:

Our Bridall flowers ferue for a buried Coarſe:

And all things change them to the contrarie.

Fri. Sir go you m, and Madam, go with him,

And go ſir Paris, every one prepare

To follow this faire Coarſe vnto her graue :

The heauens do lowre vpon you for ſome ill:

Moue them no more, by croſſing their high will. Exeunt

Mu. Faith we may put vp our Pipes and be gone.

Nur. Honeſt goodſellowes ! Ah put vp, put vp,

For well you know, this is a pitſull cafe.

Mu. I by my troth, the cafe may be amended.

Enter Peter.

Pet. Muſitions, oh Muſitions,

Hearts cafe, hearts cafe,

O, and you will haue me liue, play hearts cafe,

Mu. Why hearts cafe ;

Pet. O Muſitions,

Because my heart it ſelfe plaies, my heart is full.

Mu. Not a dump we, 'tis no time to play now.

Pet. You will not then?

Mu. No.

Pet. I will then giue it you foundly.

Mu. What will you giue vs ?

Pet. No money on my faith, but the gleeke.

I will giue you the Minſtrell.

Mu. Then will I giue you the Seruine creature.

Peter. Then will I lay the ſeruing Creatures Dagger
on your pate. I will carie no Crochers, Ile Re you, Ile Fa
you, do you note me?

Mu. And you Re vs, and Fa vs, you Note vs.

2. M. Pray you put vp your Daguer,

And put out your wit.

Then haue at you with my wit.

Peter. I will drie-beate you with an yron wir,
And put vp my yron Daguer.

And put vp my yron Daguer.

Anſwere me like men :

When griping griefes the heart doth wound, then Mu-
ficket with her filuer found.

Why filuer found ? why Muſicke with her filuer found?
what ſay you Simon Catling ?

Mu. Mary, fir, because filuer hath a ſweet found.

Pet. Prateſt, what ſay you Hugh, Rebiſke?

2. M. I ay filuer found, because Muſitions found for fil-

Pet. Prateſt to, what ſay you James Sound-Poſt ? (uer

3. Mu. Faith I know not what to ſay.

Pet. O I ery you mercy, you are the Singer.

I will ſay for you; it is Muſicke with her filuer found.

gg

Be-

74

Because Meficions have no gold for founding:
Then Muficke with her filuer found, with speedy helpe
doth lend redresse.
Exit.

Ms. What a peſtible knaue is this fame ?

M.2. Hang him lacke, come weele in here, tarrie for
the Mourners, and fly dinner.
Exit.

Enter Romeo.

Rome. If I may truſt the flattering truth of sleepe,
My dreames prefage ſome ioyfull newes at hand:
My boſomes L.ſirs lightly in his throne:
And all thisan day a vecuſom'd ſpiritu,
Lifts me aboue the ground with cheerefull thoughts.
I dreamt my Lady came and found me dead,
(Strange dreame that giues a dead man leaue to thinke.)
And breath'd fuch life with kiffes in my lips,
That I reuiu'd and was an Emperour.
Ah me, how ſweet is loue it ſelfe poffeſt,
When but loues ſhadowes are to rich in ioy.

Enter Romeo's man.

Newes from Verona, how now Balthazer ?
Doſt thou not bring me Letters from the Frier ?
How doth my Lady ? Is my Father well ?
How doth my Lady Juliet ? that I aske againe,
For nothing can be ill, if ſhe be well.

Man. Then ſhe is well, and nothing can be ill.
Her body sleepeſ in Capels Monument,
And her immortall part with Angels liue,
I ſaw her laid low in her kindreds Vault,
And preſently tooke Poffe to tell it you:
O pardon me for bringing theſe ill newes,
Since you did leaue it for my office Sir.

Rom. Is it even so ?
Then I denie you Starres.
Thou knowest my lodging, get me inke and paper,
And hire Poff-Horfes, I will hence to night.

Man. I do beſeech you fir, haue patience:
Your lookes are pale and wild, and do import
Some miſaduenture.

Rom. Tuff, thou art deceiu'd,
Leaue me, and do the thing I bid thee do.
Haſt thou no Letters to me from the Frier ?

Man. No my good Lord.

Exit Man.

Rome. Mo matter: Get thee gone,
And hyre thofe Horſes, Ile be with thee ſtraight,
Well Juliet, I will lie with thee to night:
Let ſee for meane: O miſchſe thou art ſwift,
To enter in the thoughts of desperate men:
I do remember an Appothecarie,
And here abouts dwells, which late I noted
In tattred weeds, with ouerwhelming browes,
Culling of Simples, meager were his lookes,
Sharpe miſterie had worne him to the bones:
And in his needie ſhop a Tortoyrs hung,
An Allegater ſluſt, and other skins
Of ill ſhap'd ſibbes, and about his ſhluées,
A beggerly account of empty boxes,
Greene earthen pots, Bladders, and muſtie ſeedes,
Remnants of packthred, and old cakes of Roſes
Were thinly scattered, to make vp a ſhew.
Noting this penury, to my ſelfe I laid,
An if a man did need a poyſon now,
Whose ſale is pereſent death in Mantua,
Here liues a Caitiffe wretch would ſell it him.
O this fame thought did but fore-run my need,
And this fame needie man muſt ſell it me.

As I remember, this should be the house,
Being holy day, the beggers ſhop is flut.
What ho? Appothecarie?

Enter Appothecarie.

App. Who call'ss ſo low'd?

Rome. Come bither man, I fee that thou art poore,
Hold, there is fortie Duckets, let me haue
A dram of poyſon, ſuch ſoone speeding geare,
As will disperſe it ſelfe through all the veines,
That the life-wearie-taker may fall dead,
And that the Trunke may be diſcharg'd of breath,
As violently, as haſtie powder fier'd
Doth hurry from the fatall Canons wombe.

App. Such mortall drugs I haue, but Mantua law
Is death to any he, that ytters them.

Rome. Art thou ſo bare and full of wretchedneſſe,
And fear it to die ? Famine is in thy cheekes,
Need and opreſſion ſtarueth in thy eyes,
Contempt and beggery hangs vpon thy backe:
The world is not thy friend, nor the world's laws
The world affords no law to make thee rich.
Then be not poore, but breake it, and take this,

App. My povertie, but not my will conſents.

Rome. I pray thy povertie, and not thy will.

App. Put this in any liquid thing you will
And drinke it off, and if you had the strength
Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight.

Rome. There's athy Gold,
Worſe poyſon to men's ſoules,
Doing more murther in this loathsome world,
Then theſe poore compounds that thou maiest not ſell,
I ſell thee poyſon, thou haſt ſold me none,
Farewell, buy food, and get thy ſelfe in fleſh.
Come Cordiall, and not poyſon, go with me
To Iuliet's graue, for there muſt I vſe thee.

Exeunt.

Enter Frier John to Frier Lawrence.
John. Holy Francifan Frier, Brother, ho?

Enter Frier Lawrence.

Law. This fame should be the voice of Frier John.
Welcome from Mantua, what ſayes Romeo ?
Or if his mind be wriſt, giue me his Letter.

John. Going to find a bare-foote Brother out,
One of our order to affociate me,
Here in this Citie visiting the ſick,
And finding him, the Searchers of the Towne
Suffeeting that we both were in a houſe
Where the inſectious pellilence did raigne,
Seal'd vp the doores, and would not let vs forth,
So that my ſpeed to Mantua there was ſtand.

Law. Who bare my Letter then to Romeo?

John. I could not ſend it, here it is againe,
Nor get a meſſenger to bring it thee,
So ſearefull were they of inſection.
Law. Vnhappie Fortune: by my Brotherhood
The Letter was not nice, but full of charge,
Of deare import, and the neglecting it
May do much danger: Frier John go hence,
Get me an Iron Crow, and bring it straight
Vnto my Cell.

Exit.

John. Brother Ile go and bring it thee.

Law. Now muſt I to the Monument alone,
Within this three hours will faire Iuliet wake,
Shee will beſhrew me much that Romeo
Hath had no notice of theſe accidents:
But I will write againe to Mantua,
And

And

75

And keepe her at my Cell till Romeo come,
Poore liuing Coarſe,clos'd in a dead mans Tombe,

Exit.

Enter Paris and his Page.

Par. Giue me thy Torch Boy,hence and stand aloof,
Yet put it out, for I would not be ſene :
Vnder yond young Trees lay thee all along,
Holding thy eare close to the low ground,
So ſhall no foot vpon the Churchyard tread,
Being loose, vnſirme with digging vp of Graues,
But thou ſhalt heare it: whistle then to me,
As ſignall that thou heareſt some thing approach,
Giueme those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.

Page. I am almost afraid to stand alone
Here in the Churchyard, yet I will auenture.

Pa. Sweet Flower with flowers thy Bridall bed I strew:
O woe, thy Canopie is duſt and ſones,
Which with ſweet water nightly I will dewe,
Or wanting that, with teares deſil'd by mones;
The obſequies that I for thee will keepe,
Nightly ſhall be, to ſtrew thy graue, and weepe.

Whistle Boy.

The Boy giues warning, something doth approach,
What curled foot wanders this wayes to night,
To croſſe my obſequies, and true loues right?
What with a Torch? Muffle me night a while.

Enter Romeo, and Peter.

Roma. Giue me that Mattocke,& the wrenching Iron,
Hold take this Letter, early in the morning
See thou deliuer it to my Lord and Father,
Giueme the light; vpon thy life I charge thee,
What ere thou heareſt or ſeeth, stand all aloofe,
And do not interrupt me in my courſe.
Why I defенд into this bed of death,
Is partly to behold my Ladies face :

But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger,
A precious Ring: a Ring that I muſt vſe,
In deare employment, therefore hence be gone :

But if thou ievalous doſt returne to prie
In what I further ſhall intend to do,

By heauen I will teare thee ioynt by ioynt,
And ſtrew this hungry Churchyard with thy limbs:
The time, and my intents are fauage wilde:
More ſ强度 and more inexorable ſarre,
Then empty Tygers, or the roaring Sea.

Pet. I will be gone fir, and not troubl e you

Ro. So ſhalt thou ſhew me friend ſhip: take thou that,
Lie and be prosperous, and farewell good fellow.

Pet. For all this fame, Ile hide me here about,
His lookes I feare, and his intents I doubt.

Roma. Thou, deteſable mawe, thou wombe of death,
Gorg'd with the deareſt morſell of the earth:
Thus I enforce thy rotten lawes to open,
And in deſpight, Ile cram thee with more food.

Par. This is that banifht haughtie Mountague,
That murdred my Loues Cozin; with which grieſe,
It ſuppoſed the faire Creaſure died.
And here is come to do ſome villanous ſhame
To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him.

Stop thy vnhaſowed toyle, vſile Mountague :
Can vengeance be purſued further then death?
Condemned vallaine, I do apprehend thee.
Obey and go with me, for thou muſt die,

Roma. I muſt indeed, and therfore came I hither:
Good gentle youth, tempt not a deſperate man,
Flie hence and leaue me, thinke vpon that ſone,
Let them affright thee. I beſeech thee Youth,
Put not an other fin vpon my head,
By vrging me to ſurie. O be gone,
By heauen I loue thee better then my ſelfe,
For I come hither arm'd against my ſelfe:
Stay not, be gone, line, and hereafter ſay,
A mad mans mercry bid thee run away.

Par. I do deſe thy commiſſation,
And apprehend thee for a Fellon here.

Ro. Wilt thou prouoke me? Then haue at thee Boy,

Pet. O Lord they fight, I will go call the Watch.

Pa. O I am flaine, if thon be merci ſull,
Open the Tombe, lay me with Iuliet.

Roma. In faith I will, let me perſume this face:

Mercutius kinfman, Noble Countie Paris,

What ſaid my man, when my betoſſed ſoule

Did not attend him as we rode? I thinke

He told me Paris should haue married Iuliet.

Said he not to? Or did I dreame it to?

O am I mad, hearing him talke of Iuliet,

To thinke it was to? O giue me thy hand,
One, writ with me in ſowre misfortunes booke.

He burie thee in a triumphant graue.

A Graue; Ono, a Lanthorne; ſlaughtred Youth:

For here lies Iuliet, and her beaune makes

This Vault a feaſtng prefence full of light.

Death lie thou there, by a dead man inter'd.

How oft when men are at the point of death,

Hae they beene merrie? Which their Keepers call

A lightning before death? Oh how may I

Call this a lightning? O my Loue, my Wife,

Death that hath fuckt the honey of thy breath,

Hath had no power yet vpon thy Beautie :

Thou are not conquer'd: Beauties enſigne yet

Is Crymſon in thy lips, and in thy cheekes,

And Deaths pale flagis not aduanced there.

Tychant, lyſt thou there in thy bloody ſhooth?

O what more ſaunour can I do to thee,

Then with that hand that cut thy yeuth in twaine,

To ſunder his that was thy enemie?

Forgive me Cozen. Ah deare Iuliet:

Why art thou yet to faire? I will beleeeue,

Shall I beleeeue, that vnſubſtantiall death is amorous?

And that the leane abhorred Monſter keepes

Thee here in darke to be his Paramour?

For feare of that, I ſtill will ſtay with thee,

And neuer from this Pallace of dym night

Depart againe: come lie thou in my armes,

Heere's to thy health, whereere thou tumbleſt in.

O true Appothecarie!

Thy drugs are quicke. Thus with a kiffe I die.

Depart againe; here, here will I remaine,

With Wormes that are thy Chambermaides: O here

Will I ſee vp my euerlaſting reſt:

And shake the yoke of inauspicious ſtarres

From this world wearied fleth: Eyes looke your laſt:

Armes take your laſt embrace: And lips, O you

The doors of breath, ſeale with a righteous kiffe.

A dateleſſe bargaine to ingroſſing death:

Come bitter conduct, come vnſaunoury guide,

Thou deſperate Pilot, now at once run on

The dafhing Rocks, thy Sea-ſicke wearie Barke;

Heere's to my Loue. O true Appothecary:

Thy

["The Tragedie of Romeo and Juliet.", "76", "Thy drugs are quicke. Thus with a kisse I die.", "Enter Frier with Lanthorne, Crow, and Spade.", "Fri. St. Francis be my speed, how oft to night", "Haueth my old feet flumbled at graues? Who's there?", "Man. Here's one, a Friend, & one that knowes you well.", "Fri. Bliffe be vpon you. Tell me good my Friend", "What Torch is yond that vainely lends his light", "To grubs, and eyeleſſe Sculles? As I difcerne,", "It burneth in the Capels Monument.", "Man. It doth fo holy fir,", "And there's my Maſter, one that you loue.", "Fri. Who is it?", "Man. Romeo.", "Fri. How long hath he bin there?", "Man. Full halde an houre.", "Fri. Go with me to the Vault.", "Man. I dare not Sir.", "My Maſter knowes not but I am gone hence,\nAnd fearefully did menace me with death,", "If I did stay to looke on his entents.", "Fri. Stay, then Ile go alone, ſeaſes comes vpon me.", "O much I ſeaſe ſomewhat vnluckie thing.", "Man. As I did ſleepe vnder this young tree here,", "I dreamt my maſter and another fought,", "And that my Maſter flew him.", "Fri. Romeo.", "Alacke, alacke, what blood is this which ſtaines", "The ſtony entrance of this Sepulcher?", "What meaneth ſehe Maſterleſſe, and goarie Swords", "To lie diſcolour'd by this place of peace?", "Romeo, oh pale: who eſſe what Paris too?", "And ſleept in blood? Ah what an vnkind houre", "Is guiltie of this lamentable chance?", "The Lady flirs.", "Int. O comfortable Frier, where's my Lord?", "I do remember well where I should be:", "And there I am, where is my Romeo?", "Fri. I heare ſome noyſe Lady, come from that neſt", "Of death, contagion, and vnnaconall ſleepe,", "A greater power then we can contradict", "Hath thwarted our entents, come, come away,", "Thy husband in thy boſome there lies dead:", "And Paris too: come Ile diſpofe of thee,", "Among a Sifterhood of holy Nunnes :", "Stay not to question, for the watch is comming", "Come, go good Inliet, I dare no longer ſt ay.", "Exit.", "Int. Go get thee hence, for I will notuaway,\nWhat's here? A cup clos'd in my true lo: es hand?", "Poyſon I fee hath bin his timeleſſe end", "O churle, drinke all? and left no friendly drop,", "To helpe me after, I will kiffe thy lips,", "Happie ſome poyſon yet doth hang on them,", "To make me die with a restoratiue.", "Thy lips are warme.", "Enter Boy and Watch.", "Watch. Lead Boy, which way?", "Int. Yea noife?", "Then ile be briefe. O happy Dagger.", "'Tis in thy ſlath, there rulſt and let me die. Kils herselfe.", "Boy. This is the place,", "There where the Torch doth burne", "Watch. The ground is bloody,", "Search about the Churchyard.", "Go ſome of you, who ere you find attach.", "Pittifull fight, here lies the Countie ſlaine,\nAnd Inliet bleeding, warme and newly dead", "Who here hath laine theſe two dayes buried,\nGo tell the Prince, rurne to the Capulets,\nRaife vp the Mountagues, ſome others ſeare,", "We fee the ground whereon theſe woes do lye,\nBut the true ground of all theſe piteous woes,\nWe cannot without circumſtance defery.", "Enter Romeo and Juliet.", "Watch. Here's Romeo's man,", "We found him in the Churchyard.", "Con. Hold him in safety, till the Prince come hither.", "Enter Frier and another Watchman.", "3. Wat. Here is a Frier that trembles, ſighs, and weepes", "We tooke this Mattocke and this Spade from him,", "As he was comming from this Church-yard ſide,", "Con. A great ſuſpition, stay the Frier too.", "Enter the Prince.", "Prin. What miſaduenture is ſo early vp,\nThat calls our perſon from our mornings reſt?", "Enter Capulet and his Wife.", "Cap. What should it be that they ſo ſhrike abroad?", "Wife. O the people in the streete crye Romeo.", "Some Inliet, and ſome Paris, and all rurne", "With open outcry toward our Monument.", "Fri. What ſeare is this which ſtartles in your ears?", "Wat. Soueraigne, here, lies the Countie Paris ſlaine,\nAnd Romeo dead, and Inliet dead before,", "Warme and new ki'd.", "Prin. Search,", "Seeke, and know how, this ſoule murder comes.", "Wat. Here is a Frier, and Slaughter'd Romess man,\nWith Inſtruments vpon them fit to open", "Theſe dead mens Tombes.", "Cap. O heauen!", "O wife, looke how our Daughters bleedes!", "This Dagger hath miſtaine, for hee his houſe", "Is empty on the backe of Mountague,", "And is miſheathed in my Daughters boſome.", "Wife. O me, this fight of death, is as a Bell", "That waines my old age to a Sepulcher.", "Enter Mountague.", "Pri. Come Mountague, for thou art early vp", "To fee thy Sonne and Herre, now early downe.", "Moun. Alas my liege, my wife is dead to night,", "Grieſe of my Sonnes exile hath ſtopt her breath:", "What further woe confiſpes againſt my age?", "Prin. Looke: and thou ſhalt fee.", "Moun. O thou vncaught, what manners in this,\nTo preſſe before thy Father to a graue?", "Prin. ſeale vp the mouth of outra ge for a while,\nTill we can cleare theſe ambiguities,", "And know their ſpring, their head, their true deſcent,\nAnd then will I be generall of your woes,", "And lead you euen to death? meane time forbeare,", "And let miſchance be flane to patience,", "Bring forth the parties of ſuſpition.", "Fri. I am the greatest, able to doe leaſt,", "Yet moſt ſuſpected as the time and place", "Doth make againſt me of this direfull murther:", "And heere I ſtand both to impeach and purge", "My ſelſe condemned, and my ſelſe excurſ'd.", "Prin. Then ſay at once, what thou doſt know in this?", "Fri. I will be briefe, for my ſhort date of breath\nIs not so long as is a tedious tale.", "Romeo there dead, was husband to that Inliet,", "And ſhe there dead, that's Romeo's faithfull wife.", {"bbox": [1042, 1377, 1050, 1393], "category":

I married them; and their folke marriage day
Was Tybalts Doomesday: whole vntimely death
Banif'd the new-made Bridegroome from this Citie:
For whom (and not for Tybalts) Iuliet pinde.
You, to remoue that fienge of Greece from her,
Betrod',and would haue married her perforce
To Countie Paris. Then comes she to me,
And (with wilde lookes) bid me deuif'e some meanes
To rid her from this second Marriage,
Or in my Cell there would she kill her selfe.
Then gaue I her (to Tutor'd by my Art)
A sleeping Potion, which so tooke effect
As I intended, for it wrought on her
The forme of death. Meane time, I writ to Romeo,
That he should hither come, as this dyre night,
To helpe to take her from her borrowed graue,
Being the time the Potions force should ceafe.
But he which bore my Letter, Frier John,
Was flay'd by accident; and yesternight
Return'd my Letter backe. Then all alone,
At the prefixed houre of her waking,
Came I to take her from her Kindreds vault,
Meaning to keepe her closely at my Cell,
Till I conueniently could send to Romeo.
But when I came (some Minute ere the time
Of her awaking) heere vntimely lay
The Noble Paru, and true Romeo dead,
Shee wakes, and I intreated her come forth,
And beare this worke of Heauen, with patience;
But then, a noyse did scarre me from the Tombe,
And she (too desperate) would not go with me,
But (as it feemes) did violence on her selfe.
All this I know, and to the Marriage her Nurse is priuy:
And if ought in this miscarried by my fault,
Let my old life be sacrifi'd, some houre before the time,
Vnto the rigour of feuereft Law.
Prin. We still haue knowne thee for a Holy man.
Where's Romeo's man? What can he fay to this?
Tey. I brought my Mafter newes of Iullets death,

And then in poſte he came from Mantua
To this fame place, to this fame Monument.
This Letter he early bid me giue his Father,
And threatened me with death, going in the Vault,
If I departed not, and left him there.

Prin. Giue me the Letter, I will look on it.
Where is the Counties Page that rais'd the Watch?
Sirra, what made your Mafter in this place?

Page. He came with flowres to flrew his Ladies gtaue,
And bid me stand aloofe, and so I did:
Anon comes one with light to ope the Tombe,
And by and by my Maifter drew on him,
And then I ran away to call the Watch.

Prin. This Letter doth make good the Friers words,
Their course of Loue, the tydings of her death:
And heere he writes, that he did buy a poyfon
Of a poore Pothecarie, and therewithall
Came to this Vault to dye, and lye with Iuliet.
Where be thefe Enemies? Capulet, Mountague,
See what a courge is laide vpon your hate,
That Heauen finds meanes to kill your ioyes with Loue;
And I, for winking at your diſcords too,
Haue loft a brace of Kinfmen: All are punifh'd.
Cap. O Brother Mountague, giue me thy hand,
This is my Daughters ioynture, for no more
Can I demand.

Moun. But I can giue thee more:
For I will raife her Statue in pure Gold,
That whiles Verona by that name is knowne,
There shall no figure at that Rate be fet,
As that of True and Faithfull Iuliet.

Cap. As rich as hall Romeo by his Lady ly,
Poore ſacrifices of our enmity.

Prin. A glooming peace this morning with it brings,
The Sunne for forrow will not ſhow his head;
Go hence, to haue more talke of theſe ſad things,
Some ſhall be pardon'd, and ſome puniſhed.

For neuer was a Storie of more Wo,
Then this of Iuliet, and her Romeo.

Exeunt omnes

Gg

FINIS.

80

THE LIFE OF TYMON
OF ATHENS.

Artus Primus. Scena Prima.

Enter Poet, Paintèr, Jeweller, Merchant, and Mercer,
at Seneschall doores.

Poet.

Ood day Sir.

Pain. I am glad y'are well.

Poet. I haue not leene you long, how goes the World ?

Pain. It weares fir, as it growes.

Poet. I that's well knowne :

But what particular Rarity ? What ſtrange,
Which manifold record not matches : fee
Magie of Bounty, all theſe ſpirits thy power
Hath coniur'd to attend.

I know the Merchant.

Pain. I know them both: th'others a Jeweller.

Mer. O'tis a worthy Lord.

Jew. Nay that's moſt fixt.

Mer. A moſt incomparable man, breath'd as it were,
To an vntyreable and continuate goodneſſe:
He paffes.

Jew. I haue a Jewell heere.

Mer. O pray let's fee't. For the Lord Timon, fir ?

Jewel. If he will touch the eſtimate. But for that—

Poet. When we for recompence haue prais'd the vild,
It ſtaines the glory in that happy Verſe,
Which aptly ſings the good.

Mer. 'Tis a good forme.

Jewel. And rich : heere is a Water looke ye.

Pain. You are rapt fir, in ſome worke, ſome Dedica-
tion to the great Lord.

Poet. A thing ſlipt idlely from me.

Our Poſſe is as a Gowne, which vies

From whence 'tis nourſiht : the fire i'th'Flint

She wes not, till it be ſtrooke: our gentle flame

Prouokes it ſelfe, and like the currant flyes

Each bound it chafes. What haue you there?

Pain. A Picture fir : when comes your Booke forth ?

Poet. Vpon the heeles of my preſentment fir.

Let's ſee your peeece.

Pain. 'Tis a good Peece.

Poet. So 'tis, this comes off well, and excellent.

Pain. Indifferent.

Poet. Admirable: How this grace

Speakes his owne ſtanding : what a mentall power

This eye ſhootes forth? How bigge imagination

Moues in this Lip, to th'dumbneſſe of the geſture,

One might interpret.

Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life:

Heere is a touch : Is't good?

Poet. I will ſay of it,

It Tutors Nature, Artificiall ſtrife

Lies in theſe toucthes, liuelier then life.

Enter certaine Senators.

Pain. How this Lord is followed.

Poet. The Senators of Athens, happy men.

Pain. Looke moe.

Po. You ſee this conſuence, this great flood of viſitors,
I haue in this rough worke, ſhap'd out a man
Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hugge
With ampleft entertainment : My free drift
Halts not particularly, but moues it ſelfe
In a wide Sea of wax, no leuell'd malice
Inſects one comma in the course I hold,
But flies an Eagle flight, bold, and forth on,
Leauing no Tract behind.

Pain. How ſhall I vnderſand you?

Poet. I will vuboult to you.

You ſee how all Conditions, how all Mindeſ,
As well of glib and flipp'ry Creatures, as

Of Graue and auſtere qualitie, tender downe

Their ſeruices to Lord Timon : his large Fortune,

Vpon his good and gracious Nature hanging,

Subdues and properties to his loue and tendance

All forts of hearts; yea, from the glaſſe-fac'd Flatterer

To Apemantus, that few things loues better

Then to abhorre him ſelfe; euen hee drops downe

The knee before him, and returns in peace

Moſt rich in Timons nod.

Pain. I ſaw them ſpeake together.

Poet. Sir, I haue upon a high and pleafant hill
Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd.

The Baſe o'th'Mount

Is rank'd with all deferts, all kinde of Natures

That labour on the boſome of this Sphere,

To propagate their ſtates; among'ft them all,

Whole eyes are on this Soueraigne Lady fixt,

One do I perſonate of Lord Timons frame,

Whom Fortune with her Iuory hand wafis to her,

Whole preſent grace, to preſent ſlaues and ſeruants

Translates his Riuals.

Pain. 'Tis concey'd, to ſcope

This THRONE, this Fortune, and this Hill me thinkes

With

Timon of Athens.

8I

With one man becken'd from the rest below,
Bowing his head against the sleepy Mount
To dimbe his happineſſe, would be well expreſſ
In his Condition.

Poet. Nay Sir, but heare me on:

All thofe which were his Fellowes but of late,
Some better then his valew; on the moment
Follow his frides, his Lobbies fill with tendance,
Raine Sacrificiall whisperings in his care,
Make Sacred euen his flytrop, and through him
Drinke the free Ayre.

Pain. I marry, what of theſe?

Poet. When Fortune in her lift and change of mood
Spurnes downe her late beloved; all his Dependants
Which labour'd after him to the Mountaines top,
Even on their knees and hand, let him fit downe,
Not one accompanying his declining foot.

Pain. Tis common:

Athouſand morall Paintings I can ſhow,
That ſhall demonſtrate theſe quicke blowes of Fortunes,
More pregnantly then words. Yet you do well,
To ſhow Lord Timon, that meane eyes haue ſene
The foot about the head.

Trumpets found.

Enter Lord Timon, addressing himselfe curteously to everyone SHOR.

Tim. Imprison'd is he, ſay you?

Mef. I my good Lord, ſiue Talents is his debt,
His meaneſt moſt ſhort, his Creditors moſt ſtraite:
Your Honourable Letter he deſires
To thoſe haue ſhut him vp, which failing,
Periods his comfort.

Tim. Noble Ventidius well:

I am not of that Feather, to ſake off
My Friend when he muſt neede me. I do know him
A Gentleman, that well deferues a helpe,
Which he ſhall haue. Ile pay the debt, and free him.

Mef. Your Lordſhip euſer bindes him.

Tim. Commend me to him, I will ſend his ransome,
And being enfranchized bid him come to me;
Tis not enough to helpe the Feeble vp,

But to ſupport him after. Fare you well.

Mef. All happineſſe to your Honor.

Exit.

Enter an old Athenian.

Oldm. Lord Timon, heare me ſpeake.

Tim. Freely good Father.

Oldm. Thou haſt a Servant nam'd Lucilius.

Tim. I haue ſo: What of him ?

Oldm. Moſt Noble Timon, call the man before thee.

Tim. Attends he heere, or no? Lucilius.

Luc. Heere at your Lordſhips ſeruice.

Oldm. This Fellow heere, L. Timon, this thy Creature,
By night frequents my houſe. I am a man
That from my firſt haue beene inclin'd to thrift,
And my eſtate deferues an Heyre more rais'd,
Then one which holds a Trencher.

Tim. Well: what further?

Old. One onely Daughter haue I, no Kin eſſe,
On whom I may conferre what I haue got:
The Maid is faire, a'th'youngest for a Bride,
And I haue bred her at my deereſt coſt
In Qualities of the beſt. This man of thine
Attempts her loue: I prythee (Noble Lord)

Joyne with me to forbid him her reſort,
My ſelfe haue ſpoke in vaine.

Tim. The man is honest.

Oldm. Therefore he will be Timon,
His honesty rewards him in it ſelfe,
It muſt not beare my Daughter.

Tim. Does ſhe loue him?

Oldm. She is yong and apt:

Our owne precedent paffions do inſtruct vs
What leuities in youth.

Tim. Loue you the Maid?

Luc. I my good Lord, and ſhe accepts of it.

Oldm. If in her Marriage my conſent be miſſing,
I call the Gods to witneſſe, I will chooſe.

Mine heyre from ſorth the Beggers of the world,
And diſpoſſe ſher all.

Tim. How ſhall ſhe be endowed,
If ſhe be mated with an equall Husband?

Oldm. Three Talents on the preſent; in ſuture, all.

Tim. This Gentleman of mine

Hath ſeru'd me long:

To build his Fortune, I will ſtraine a little,

For'tis a Bond in men. Giue him thy Daughter,
What you beſtow, in him Ile counterpoize,

And make him weigh with her.

Oldm. Moſt Noble Lord,

Pawne me to this your Honour, ſhe is his.

Tim. My hand to thee,

Mine Honour on my promife.

Luc. Humbly I thanke your Lordſhip, neuer may

That ſrate or Fortune fall into my keeping,

Which is not owed to you.

Exit

Poet. Vouchſaſe my Labour,

And long liue your Lordſhip.

Tim. I thanke you, you ſhall heare from me anon:

Go not away. What haue you there, my Friend?

Luc. A peecce of Painting, which I do beſeech

Your Lordſhip to accept.

Tim. Painting is welcome.

The Painting is almoſt the Naturall man:

For ſince Diſhonour Traſſickes with mans Nature,

He is but out-ſide: Theſe Penſil'd Figures are

Even ſuch as they giue out. I like your worke,

And you ſhall ſinde I like it; Waite attendance.

Till you heare further from me.

Luc. The Gods preferre ye.

Tim. Well fare you Gentleman: giue me your hand.
We muſt needs diſe together: fir your Iewell

Hath ſuffered vnder praeife.

Iewel. What my Lord, diſprouſe?

Tim. A meere ſaciety of Commendations,
If I ſhould pay you for't as 'tis extold,

It would vnclew me quite.

Iewel. My Lord, 'tis rated

As thoſe which fell would giue: but you well know,
Things of like valew differing in the Owners,
Are prized by their Maſters. Beleeu't deere Lord,
You mend the Iewell by the wearing it.

Tim. Well mock'd.

Enter Apermantus.

Mer. No my good Lord, he ſpeakes y common toong
Which all men ſpeake with him.

Tim. Looke who comes heere, will you be chid?

Iewel. Wee'l beare with your Lordſhip.

Mer. Hee'l ſpare none.

Tim. Good morrow to thee,

Gentle Apermantus.

Aper.

gg 2

Timon of Athens.

82

Ape. Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow.
When thou art Timons dogge, and these Knaues honest.

Tim. Why doft thou call them Knaues, thou know'st
them not?

Ape. Are they not Athenians?

Tim. Yes.

Ape. Then I repent not.

Iew. You know me, Apemantus?

Ape. Thou know'st I do, I call'd thee by thy name.

Tim. Thou art proud Apemantus?

Ape. Of nothing so much, as that I am not like Timon

Tim. Whether art going ?

Ape. To knocke out an honest Athenians braines.

Tim. That's a deed thou't dye for.

Ape. Right, if doing nothing be death by th' Law.

Tim. How lik'st thou this picture Apemantus?

Ape. The best, for the innocence.

Tim. Wrought he not well that painted it.

Ape. He wrought better that made the Painter, and
yet he's but a filthy piece of worke.

Pain. Y'are a Dogge.

Ape. Thy Mothers of my generation: what's she, if I
be a Dogge?

Tim. Wilt dine with me Apemantus?

Ape. No: I eate not Lords.

Tim. And thou shouldst, choud't anger Ladies.

Ape. O they eate Lords;

So they come by great bellies.

Tim. That's a laſciuous apprehension.

Ape. So, thou apprehend't it,

Take it for thy labour,

Tim. How doſt thou like this Iewell, Apemantus?

Ape. Not so well as plain-dealing, which wil not caſt
a man a Doit.

Tim. What doſt thou thinke 'tis worth?

Ape. Not worth my thinking.

How now Poet?

Poet. How now Philosopher?

Ape. Thou lyeſt.

Poet. Art not one?

Ape. Yes.

Poet. Then I lye nor.

Ape. Art not a Poet?

Poet. Yes.

Ape. Then thou lyeſt:

Looke in thy laſt worke, where thou haſt fegin'd him a
worthy Fellow.

Poet. That's not feign'd, he is ſo.

Ape. Yes he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy
labour. He that loues to be flattered, is worthy o'th' flat-
terer. Heauens, that I were a Lord,

Tim. What would it do then Apemantus?

Ape. E're as Apemantus does now, I hate a Lord with
my heart.

Tim. What thy ſelfe?

Ape. I.

Tim. Wherefore?

Ape. That I had no angry wit to be a Lord.

Art not thou a Merchant ?

Mer. I Apemantus.

Ape. Traffick confound thee, if the Gods will not,

Mer. If Trafficke do it, the Gods do it.

Ape. Trafficke thy God, & thy God confound thee.

Trumpet ſounds. Enter a Messenger.

Tim. What Trumpets that are

Mef. 'Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty Horſe

All of Companionship.

Tim. Pray entertain them, giue them guide to vs.
You muſt needs dine with me: go not you hence
Till I haue thankt you: when dinners done
Shew me this peecce, I am ioyfull of your fightes,
Ester Alcibiades with the reſſ.

Moft welcome Sir.

Ape. So, ſo; their Aches contraſt, and ſerue your
ſupple ioynts : that there ſhould bee ſmall loue amongſt
theſe ſweet Knaues, and all this Curſeſie. The ſtraine of
mans bred out into Baboon and Monkey.

Alc. Sir, you haue ſau'd my longing, and I feed
Moft hungerly on your fight.

Tim. Right welcome Sir:

Ere we depart, wee'l share a bounteous time
In different pleasures.

Pray you let vs in.

Enter two Lords.

Exeunt.

1. Lord What time a day is't Apemantus?

Ape. Time to be honest.

1. That time ſerues still.

Ape. The moſt accurſed thou that ſill omit it.

2. Thou art going to Lord Timons Feaſt.

Ape. I, to ſee meate fill Knaues, and Wine heat fooles.

2. Farthee well, farthee well.

Ape. Thou art a Foole to bid me farewell twice,

2. Why Apemantus?

Ape. Should'ſt thou have kept one to thy ſelfe, for I meane
to giue thee none.

1. Hang thy ſelfe.

Ape. No I will do nothing at thy bidding.
Make thy requeſts to thy Friend.

2. Away vnpeaceable Dogge,
Or Ile spurne thee hence.

Ape. I will flye like a dogge, the heeles a'th'Alle.

1. Hee's oppoſite to humanity.

Comes ſhall we in,

And taſte Lord Timons bountie: he our gores
The verie heart of kindneſſe.

2. He powres it out: Plutus the God of Gold
Is but his Steward: no meede but he repayes
Seuen-fold aboue it ſelfe: No guift to him,
But breeds the giuer a returne: exceeding
All vſe of quittance.

1. The Nobleft minde he carries,
That euer govern'd man.

2. Long may he liue in Fortunes. Shall we in?
Ile keepe you Company.

Exeunt.

Hoboyes Playing lowd Muflickes.

A great Banquet ſeru'd in: and then, Enter Lord Timon, the
States, the Athenian Lords, Ventigius which Timon re-
deem'd from prifon. Then comes dropping after all Ap-
emantus diſcontentedly like himſelfe.

Ventig. Moſt honoured Timon,
It hath pleas'd the Gods to remember my Fathers age,
And call him to long peace:
He is gone happy, and has left merich:
Then, as in gratefull Vertue I am bound
To your free heart, I do returne those Talents
Doubled with thankes and ſeruice, from whose helpe
I deriu'd libertie.

Tim. Oby no meaneſ,
Honest Ventigius: You miſtake my loue,

I gave

Timon of Athens.

81

I gaue it freely euer, and ther's none

Can truely lay he giues, if he receives:

If our betters play at that game, we must not dare

To imitate them: faults that are rich are faire.

Vint. A Noble spirit.

Tim. Nay my Lords, Ceremony was but deuis'd at first

To fet a gloffe on faint deeds, hollow welcomes,

Recanting goodneſſe, ſorry ere'tis ſhowne:

But where there is true friendship, there needs none.

Pry ſit, more we welcome are ye to my Fortunes,

Then my Fortunes to me.

1. Lord. My Lord, we alwaies haue confest it.

Aper. Ho ho, confest it? Handg'd it? Haue you not?

Timo. O Apermantus, you are welcome.

Aper. No: You shall not make me welcome:

I come to haue thee thrust me out of doores.

Tim. Fie, th'art a churle, ye'haue got a humour there
Does not become a man, 'tis much too blame:

They ſay my Lords, Ira favor breuis eſt,

But yond man is verie angrie.

Go, let him haue a Table by himſelfe:

For he does neither effect companie,

Nor is he fit for't indeed.

Aper. Let me rayat thine apperill Timon,

I come to obſerue, I giue thee warning on't.

Tim. I take no heed of thee: Th'art an Athanian,
therefore welcome: I my ſelfe would haue no power,
prythee let my meate make thee ſilent.

Aper. I ſcorne thy meate, 'twould choake me: for I
should nere flatter thee. Oh you Gods! What a number
of men eats Timon, and he ſees 'em not? It greeces me
to fee ſo many dip there meate in one mans blood, and
all the madneſſe is, he cheeres them vp too.

I wonder men dare trust them ſelues with men.

Me thinks they should enuite them without kniues,

Good for there meate, and ſafer for their liues.

There's much example for't, the fellow that fits next him,
now parts bread with him, pledg's the breath of him in
a diuided draught: is the readieſt man to kill him. 'Fas
beene proued, if I were a huge man. I ſhould ſcare to
dinke at meales, leaſt they ſhould ſpie my wind-pipes
dangerous noates, great men ſhould drinke with harnefſe
on their throates.

Tim. My Lord in heart: and let the health go round.

2. Lord. Let it flow this way my good Lord.

Aper. Flow this way? A braue fellow. He keepes his
tides well, thofe healths will make thee and thy flate
looke ill, Timon.

Heere's that which is too weake to be a ſinner,

Honeſt water, which nere left man i'ch'mire:

This and my food are equal's, there's no ods,

Feaſts are to proud to give thanks to the Gods.

Apermantus Grace.

Immortall Gods, I craue no pelfe,

I pray for no man but my ſelfe,

Graunt I may neuer prove so fond,

To truſt man on his Oath or Bond.

Or a Harlot for her weeping,

Or a Dogge that ſeemes all eeping,

Or a keeper with my freedome,

Or my friends if I should need 'em.

Amen. So fall too't:

Richmen ſin, and I eat root.

Much good dich thy good heart, Apermantus na

Tim. Captaine,

Alcibiades, your hearts in the field now.

Alci. My heart is euer at your ſeruice, my Lord.

Tim. You had rather be at a breakeſt of Enemies,
then a dinner of Friends.

Alc. So they were bleeding new my Lord, there's no
meat like 'em, I could wifh my beſt friend at ſuch a Feaſt.

Aper. Would all thofe Flatterers were thine Enemies
then, that then thou might'ſt kill 'em: & bid me to 'em.

1. Lord. Miglat we but haue that happineſſe my Lord,
that you would once vſe our hearts, whereby we might
exprefſe ſome part of our zeales, we should thinke our
ſelues for euer perſect.

Timon. Oh no doubt my good Friends, but the Gods
them ſelues haue prouided that I shall haue much helpe
from you: how bad you beene my Friends eſſe. Why
haue you that charitable title from thousands ? Did not
you chieſely belong to my heart? I haue told more of
you to my ſelfe, then you can with modetieſſe ſpeake
in your owne behalſe. And thus farre I confirme you. Oh
you Gods (thinke I,) what need we haue any Frien ds; if
we should nere haue need of 'em? They were the moſt
needeſſe Creatures liuing; should we nere haue vſe for
'em ? And would moſt reſembe ſwecte Inſtruments
hung vp in Caſes, that keepes there ſounds to them-
ſelues. Why I haue often wifht my ſelfe-poorer, that
I might come neerer to you: we are borne to do bene-
fits. And what better or properer can we call our owne,
then the riches of our Friends? Oh what a pretions com-
fort 'tis, to haue so many like Brothers commanding
one anothers Fortunes. Oh ioyes, 'cne made away er't
can be borne: mine eies cannot hold out waterme thinks.
to forget their Faults. I drinke to you.

Aper. Thou weep't to make them drinke, Timon.

2. Lord. Ioy had the like conception in our eies,
And at that inſant, like a babe prung vp.

Aper. Ho, ho: I laugh to thinke that babe a baſtard.

3. Lord. I promife you my Lord you mou'd me much

Aper. Much.

Sound Tucker. Enter the Maskers of Amazons, wish
Lutes in their hands, dauncing and playing.

Tim. What meanes that Trumpe? How now?

Enter Servant.

Ser. Please you my Lord, there are certaine Ladies

Moft defirous of admittance.

Tim. Ladies? what are their wils ?

Ser. There comes with them a fore-runner my Lord,
which heares that office, to ſignifie their pleatures.

Tim. I pray let them be admitted.

Enter Cupid with the Masks of Ladies.

Cap. Haile to thee worthy Timon and to all that of
his Bounties taſteth the five best Sencences I knowledge thee
their Patron, and come freely to gratulate thy plenious
boſome.

There taſt, touch all, pleas'd from thy Table rife:

They onely now come but to Feaſt thine eies.

Timo. They't wecome all, let 'em haue kind admit-
tance, Muſicke make their welcome.

Luc. You ſee my Lord, how ample y'are belou'd.

Aper. Hoyday,

What a sweepe of vanitie comes this way.

They daunce? They are madwomen.

SGS

Like

Timon of Athens.

82

Like Madneſſe is the glory of this life,
As this pompe ſhewes to a little oyle and roote.
We make our ſelues Fooles, to diſport our ſelues.
And ſpend our Flatteries, to drinke thofe men,
Vpon whoſe Age we voyde it vp agen
With poyſonous Spight and Enuy.
Who liues, that's not depraueſed, or depraues;
Who dyes, that beares not one ſpurne to their graues
Of their Friends guift:
I ſhould ſcarre, thofe that dance before me now,
Would one day ſtampe vpon me : 'Tas bene done,
Men ſhut their doores againſt a ſetting Sunne.

The Lords rife from Table, with much adoring of Timon, and to ſhow their loues, each ſingle out an Amazon, and all Dance, men with women, a loſtie ſtraine or two to the Hobeyes, and ceaſe.

Tim. You haue done our pleafures
Much grace (faire Ladies)
Set a faire ſashion on our entertainment,
Which was not halſe ſo beautiſull, and kinde :
You haue added worth vntoo't, and luſter,
And entertain'd me with mine owne deuice.
I am to thanke you for't.

1 Lord. My Lord you take vs euen at the beſt.
Aper. Faith for the worſt is filthy, and would not hold
taking, I doubt me.

Tim. Ladies, there is an idle banquet attends you,
Please you to diſpoſe your ſelues.

All La. Most thankfully, my Lord.
Tim. Flatiuus.
Fla. My Lord.
Tim. The little Casket bring me hither.
Fla. Yes, my Lord. More Iewels yet?
There is no croſſing him in's humor,
Elſe I ſhould tell him well, yfaith I ſhould;
When all's ſpent, hee'd be croſſ then, and he could:
'Tis pitty Bounty had not eyes behinde,
That man might ne're be wretched for his minde.
Exit.

1 Lord. Where be our men?
Ser. Heere my Lord, in readineſſe.
2 Lord. Our Horſes.
Tim. O my Friends:
I haue one word to ſay to you: Looke you, my good L.
I muſt intreat you honour me ſo much,
As to aduance this Iewell, accept it, and weare it,
Kinde my Lord.

1 Lord. I am ſo farre already in your guifts.

All. So are we all.

Enter a Servant.

Ser. My Lord, there are certaine Nobles of the Senate newly alighted, and come to viſit you.

Tim. They are fairely welcome.

Enter Flavius.

Fla. I beſeech your Honor, vouchſaſe me a word, it
does concerne you neere.

Tim. Neere ? why then another time Ile heare thee.
I prythee let's be prouided to ſhow them entertainment.

Fla. I ſcarre know how.

Enter another Serunt.

Ser. May it please your Honor, Lord Lucius
(Out of his free loue) hath preſented to you
Foure Milke-white Horſes, trapt in Siluer.

Tim. I ſhall accept them fairely: let the Preſents
Be worthily entertain'd.

Enter a third Servant.
How now ? What newes?

3. Ser. Please you my Lord, that honourable Gentleman, Lord Lucullus, entre at your companie to morrow, to hunt with him, and ha's ſent your Honour two bracés of Grey-hounds.

Tim. Ile hunt with him,
And let them be receiued, not without faire Reward.
Fla. What will this come to?

He commands vs to prouide, and giue great guifts, and
all out of an empty Coffer :

Nor will he know his Purſe, or yeeld me this,
To ſhow him what a Begger his heart is,
Being of no power to make his wiſhes good,
His promifes flye ſo beyond his ſtate,
That what he ſpeaks is all in debt, he ows for eu'ry word,
He is ſo kind that he now payes intereſt for't;
His Land's put to their Bookes. Well, would I were
Gently put out of Office, before I were for'd out:
Happier is he that has no friend to feede,
Then ſuch that do e'ne Enemies exceede.
I bleed inwardly for my Lord.

Tim. You do your ſelues much wrong,
You bate too much of your owne merits,
Heere my Lord, a trifle of our Loue.

3. Lord. With more then common thanks
I will receyue it.

3. Lord. O he's the very foule of Bounty.

Tim. And now I remember my Lord, you gaue good
words the other day of a Bay Courser I rod on, Tis your
because you lik'd it.

1. L. Oh, I beſeech you pardon mee, my Lord, in that,

Tim. You may take my word my Lord : I know no
man can iſtuly praiſe, but what he does aſſect. I weighe
my Friends aſſeſion with mine owne: Ile tell you true,
Ile call to you.

All Lor. O none ſo welcome.

Tim. I take all, and your ſeuerall viſitation
So kind to heart, 'tis not enough to giue:
Me thinkes, I could deale Kingdomes to my Friends,
And nere be wearie. Alcibiades,
Thou art a Soldiour, therefore ſildome rich,
It comes in Charitie to thee: for all thy liuing
Is mong'ſt the dead: and all the Lands thou haſt
Lye in a pitchfield.

Alc. I, defil'd Land, my Lord,

1. Lord. We are ſo vertuonfly bound.

Tim. And so am I to you.

2. Lord. So infinitely endeer'd.

Tim. All to you. Lights, more Lights.

1. Lord. The beſt of Happines, Honor, and Fortunes
Keepe with you Keepe Timon.

Tim. Ready for his Friends.

Aper. What a coiles heere, ſeruing of beckeſ, and iuſting out of bummes. I doubt whether their Legges be worth the ſummes that are giuen for 'em.
Friendships full of dregges,
Me thinkes false hearts, should neuer haue found legges.
Thus honeſt Fooles lay out their wealth on Curties.

Tim. Now Apermantus (if thou wert not ſuſen)
I would be good to thee.

Aper. No, Ile nothing; for if I ſhould be brib'd too
there would be none left to raile vpon mee, and then thou
wouldſt ſinne the after. Thou giuſt long Timons (I
would ſe me) thou wilt giue away thy ſelues in paper, ſhouſt-
feare me) thou wilt giue away thy ſelues in paper, ſhouſt-
What needs theſe Peaſts, pompes, and Vaine-glories?

Timon of Athens.

83

Tim. Nay, and you begin to rail on Societie once, I
amfworne not to giue regard to you. Farewell, & come
with better Musicke.

Aper. So : Thou wilt not heare mee now, thou fhalt
not then. Ile locke thy heauen from thee :
Oh that mens eares should be

Oh that mens eares should be

To COUNſell deafe, but not to Flatterie.

Exit

Exit

Enter a Savator.

Sen. And late ſue thouſand : to Varro and to Iſidore
He owes nine thouſand, befides my former ſumme,
Which makes it ſue and twenty. Still in motion
Of raging waſſe? It cannot hold, it will not.
If I want Gold, ſeale but a beggers Dogge,

And giue it Timon, why the Dogge coines Gold.
If I would fell my Horſe, and buy twenty moe
Better then he; why giue my Horſe to Timon.

Aske nothing, giue it him, it Foles me ſtraight
And able Horſes: No Porter at his gate,

But rather one that ſmiles, and fill inuities
All that paſſe by. It cannot hold, no reaſon
Can found his ſtate in ſafety. Caphis hoa,

Caphis I lay.

Enter Caphis.

Ca. Heere fir, what is your pleafure.

Sen. Get on your cloake, & haſt you to Lord Timon,
Importune him for my Moneyes, be not ceaſt

With flight denial; nor then ſilenc'd, when
Commend me to your Maſter, and the Cap

Playes in the right hand, thus : but tell him,
My Vſes cry to me; I muſt ſerue my turne

Out of mine owne, his daies and times are paſſ,
And my reliances on his fraſted dates

Hauſt ſmit my credit. I loue, and honour him,

But muſt not breake my backe, to heale his ſinger.

Immediate are my needs, and my reeleſe
Muſt not be toſt and turn'd to me in words,

But finde ſupper immediate. Get you gone,

Put on a moſt importunate aspěx.
A viſage of demand : for I do ſeare

When euery Feather ſtickes in his owne wing,
Lord Timon will be left a naked gull,

Which flaſhes now a Phoenix, get you gone.
Ca. I go fir.

Sen. I go fir?

Sen. I go fir?

Take the Bonds along with you,
And haue the dates in. Come.

Ca. I will Sir.

Sen. Go.

Exeunt

Enter Steward, with many billes in his hand.

Stew. No care, no ſtop, ſo ſenſeſſe of expence,
That he will neither know how to maintaine it,
Nor ceaſe his flow of Riot. Takes no accompt
How things go from him, nor ſetume no care
Of what is to continue: neuer minde,
Was to be ſo vnwife, to be ſo kinde.

What shall be done, he will not heare, till ſeele :

I muſt be round with him, now he comes from hunting.
Eye, ſie, ſie, ſie.

Enter Caphis, Iſidore, and Varro.

Cap. Good euen Varro : what, you come for money?

Var. Is not your buſineſſe too?

Cap. It is, and yours too, Iſidore?

Iſid. It is, so.

Cap. Would we were all diſcharg'd,

Var. I feare it,

Cap. Heere comes the Lord.

Enter Timon, and his Traine.

Tim. So ſoone as dinners done, wee'l forth againe
My Aleibiades. With me, what is your will?

Cap. My Lord, heere is a note of certaine dues.

Tim. Dues? whence are you?

Cap. Of Athens heere, my Lord.

Tim. Go to my Steward.

Cap. Pleaſe it your Lordship, he hath put me off

To the ſucceſſion of new dayes this montheth:

My Maſter is awak'd by great Occafion,

To call vpon his owne, and humbly prays you,

That with your other Noble parts, you'l ſuite,

In giuing him his right.

Tim. Mine honeſt Friend,

I prythee but repaire to me next morning.

Cap. Nay, good my Lord.

Tim. Containe thy ſelſe, good Friend.

Var. One Varroes ſeruant, my good Lord.

Iſid. From Iſidore, he humbly prays you your ſpeedy pay-
ment.

Cap. If you did know my Lord, my Maſters wants.

Var. 'Twas due on forſeuture my Lord, ſixe weekes,
and paſſ.

Iſi. Your Steward puts me off my Lord, and I
Am ſent expreſſely to your Lordship.

Tim. Giue me breath :

I do beſeech you good my Lords keepe on,

He waſte vpon you inſantly. Come hither : pray you

How goes the world, that I am thus encountered

With clamorous demands of debt, broken Bonds,

And the detention of long ſince due debts

Agaiuſt my Honor?

Stew. Pleaſe you Gentlemen,

The time is vnagreecable to this buſineſſe:

Your importunacie ceaſe, till after dinner,

That I may make his Lordship vnderſtand

Wherefore you are not paid.

Tim. Do ſo my Friends, ſee them well entertain'd.

Stew. Pray draw neere.

Exit.

Enter Apemantus and Foole.

Caph. Stay, stay, here comes the Foole with Apeman-
tus, let's ha' ſome ſport with'em.

Var. Hang him, hee'l abufe vs.

Iſid. A plague vpon him dogge.

Var. How doſt Foole?

Ape. Doſt Dialogue with thy ſhadow?

Var. I ſpeake not to thee.

Ape. No 'tis to thy ſelſe. Come away.

Iſi. There's the Foole hangs on your backe already.

Ape. No thou ſtand'ſt ſingle, th'art not on him yet.

Cap. Where's the Foole now?

Ape. He laſt ask'd the queſtion. Poore Rogues, and
Viruers men, Bauds betweene Gold and want.

Al. What are we Apemantus?

Ape. Aſles.

All. Why?

Ape. That you ask me what you are, & do not know
your ſelues. Speake to'em Foole.

Foole. How do you Gentlemen?

All. Gramercies good Foole :

How does your Miftris?

Foole.

Timon of Athens.

84.

Foole. She's e'ne setting on water to feal'd such Chicks as you are. Would we could see you at Corinth.

Ape. Good, Gramercy.

Enter Page.

Foole. Looke you, heere comes my Masters Page.

Page. Why how now Captaine? what do you in this wife Company.

How doft thou Apemantus?

Ape. Would I had a Rod in my mouth, that I might anwer thee profitably.

Boy. Prythee Apemantus reade me the supereripti-on of these Letters, I know not which is which.

Ape. Canft not read?

Page. No.

Ape. There will little Learning dye then that day thou art hang'd. This is to Lord Timon, this to Alcibiades, Go thou was't borne a Baftard, and thou't dye a Bawd.

Page. Thou was't whelpt a Dogge, and thou shalt famish a Dogges death.

Anwer not, I am gone.

Ape. Ene so thou out-runft Grace,

Foole I will go with you to Lord Timons.

Foole. Will you leaue me there?

Ape. If Timon stay at home,

You three ferue three Vfurers?

All. I would they feru'd vs.

Ape. So would I:

As good a tricke as euer Hangman feru'd Theeſe.

Foole. Are you three Vſurers men?

All. I Foole.

Foole. I thinke no Vfurer, but ha's a Foole to his ſeruant. My Miftris is one, and I am her Foole : when men come to borrow of your Maſters, they approach ſadly, and go away merry : but they enter my Maſters houſe merrily, and go away ſadly. The reaſon of this?

Var. I could render one.

Ape. Do it then, that we may account thee a Whore-mafter, and a Knaue, which notwithstanding thou ſhalt be no leſſe eſſeemed.

Varro. What is a Whoremafter Foole?

Foole. A Foole in good cloathes, and ſomething like thee. 'Tis a ſpirit, ſometime t'apppears like a Lord, ſom-time like a Lawyer, ſometime like a Philosopher, with two ſtones moe then's artificiall one. Hee is verie often like a Knight; and generally, in all ſhapes that man goes vp and downe in, from ſoureſcore to thirteen, this ſpirit walkes in.

Var. Thou art not altogether a Foole.

Foole. Nor thou altogether a Wife man,

As much foolerie as I haue, so much wit thou lack't;

Ape. That anſwer might haue become Apemantus.

All. Aſide, aſide, heere comes Lord Timon.

Enter Timon and Steward.

Ape. Come with me (Foole) come.

Foole. I do not alwayes follow Louer, ielder Brother, aad Woman, ſometime the Philosopher.

Stew. Pray you walk en eere,

Ile ſpeake with you anon.

Excet.

Tim. You make me meruell wherefore ere this time Had you not fully laide my ſtate before me, That I might ſo haue rated my expence

As I had leaue of meanees.

Stew. You would not heare me:

At many leſures I propoſe.

Tim. Go too:

Perchance ſome ſingle vantages you tooke, When my indiſposition put you backe, And that vnaptneſſe made your minifter Thus to excufe your ſelfe.

Stew. O my good Lord,

At many times I brought in my accompts, Laid them before you, you would throw them off, And ſay you found them in mine honeſe, When for ſome trifling preſent you haue bid me Returne ſo much, I haue ſhooke my head, and wept: Yea 'gainſt th' Authoritie of manners, pray'd you To hold your hand more close: I did indure Not ſildome, nor no flight checkes, when I haue Prompted you in the ebbe of your eſtate, And your great flow of debts; my lou'd Lord, Though you heare now (too late) yet nowes a time, The greatest of your hauing, lacke a halfe, To pay your preſent debts.

Tim. Let all my Land be ſold.

Stew. 'Tis all engag'd, ſome forſeyted and gone, And what remaines will hardly stop the mouth Of preſent dues; the future comes apace: What ſhall defend the interim, and at length How goes our reck'ning?

Tim. To Lacedemon did my Land extend.

Stew. O my good Lord, the world is but a word, Were it all yours, to giue it in a breath, How quickly were it gone.

Tim. You tell me true.

Stew. If you ſuſpect my Husbandry or Falſhood, Call me before th' exacted Auditors, And fet me on the proofe. So the Gods bleſſe me, When all our Offices haue beene oppreſſe With riotous Pet ders, when our Vaults haue wept With drunken ſpilth of Wine; when every roome Hath blaz'd with Lights, and braid with Minſtreſſe, I haue rety'r'd me to a wafteſful cocke, And fet mine eyes at flow.

Tim. Prythee no more.

Stew. Heauens haue I faid, the bounty of this Lord: How many prodigall bits haue Slaves and Pezants This nightrenglutted : who is not Timons, What heart, head, (word, force, meanees, but is L. Timons) Great Timon, Noble, Worthy, Royall Timon: Ah, when the meanees are gone, that buy this præſe, The breath is gone, whereof this præſe is made: Feaſt won, ſaſt loſt; one cloud of Winter ſhowres, These flyes are coucht.

Tim. Come ſermon me no further.

No villanous bounty yet hath pafft my heart; Vnwisely, not ignobly haue I giuen. Why doſt thou weepe, canſt thou the conſience lacke, To thinke I ſhall lacke friends : ſecure thy heart, If I would broach the veſels of my loue, And try the argument of hearts, by borrowing, Men, and mens fortunes could I frankly ſe As I can bid thee ſpeake.

Stew. Aſſurance bleſſe your thoughts.

Tim. And in ſome ſort the ſeſt wants of mine are crown'd, That I account them bleſſings. For by theſe Shall I trie Friends. You ſhall perceiue How you miſtake my Fortunes:

I am wealtheie in my Friends.

Within there, Flanius, Seruilius?

Enter.

Timon of Athens.

Enter three Seruants.

Ser. My Lord, my Lord.

Tim. I will dispatch you feuerally.

You to Lord *Lucius*, to Lord *Lucullus* you, I hunted
with his Honor to day; you to *Sempronites*; commend me
to their loues ; and I am proud Iay, that my occasions
haue found time to vſe'em toward a supply of mony : let
the request be fifty Talents.

Flam. As you haue said, my Lord.

Stew. Lord *Lucius* and *Lucullus*? Humh.

Tim. Go you fir to the Senators;

Of whom, even to the States best health ; I haue
Deferu'd this Hearing : bid 'em tend o'th'instant
A thousand Talents to me.

Ste. I haue beene bold

(For that I knew it the moſt generall way)

To them, to vſe your Signet, and your Name,
But they do shake their heads, and I am here
No richer in returne.

Tim. Is't true? Can't be?

Stew. They anſwer in a ioynt and corporate voice,

That now they are at fall, want Treaſure cannot
Do what they would, are forrie : you are Honourable,
But yet they could haue wifht, they know not,
Something bath beene amife; a Noble Nature
May catch a wrench; would all were well; tis pitty,
And so intending other ſerious matters,
After diftaſtful lookes; and theſe hard Fractions
With certaine halſe-caps, and cold mouing nods,
They froze me into Silence.

Tim. You Gods reward them :

Prythee man looke cheerefull. Theſe old Fellowes
Hae their ingratitude in them Hereditary :
Their blood is cak'd, 'tis cold, it fildome flowes,
'Tis lacke of kindly warmth, they are not kinde ;
And Nature, as it growes againe toward earth,
Is fashion'd for the iourney, dull and heavy.

Go to *Dentiddius* (prythee be not ſad,
Thou art true, and honest; Ingeniously I ſpeake,
No blame belongs to thee :) *Ventiddius* lately

Buried his Father, by whose death hee's ſtepp'd
Into a great eſtate : When he was poore,
Imprison'd, and in ſcarſitie of Friends,

I cleer'd him with ſiue Talents : Greet him from me,
Bid him ſuppofe, ſome good neceſſity

Touches his Friend, which craues to be remembred
With theſe ſiue Talents; that had, giue't theſe Fellows

To whom 'tis instant due. Neu'r (ſpeake, or thinke,
That *Timons* fortunes 'mong his Friends can ſinke.

Stew. I would I could not thinke it :

That thought is Bounties Foe ;

Being free it ſelfe, it thinkes all others ſo.

Exeunt

Flaminius waiting to ſpeake with a Lord from his Maſter,
enters a ſeruant to him.

Ser. I haue told my Lord of you, he is comming down
to you.

Flam. I thanke you Sir.

Enter *Lucullus*.

Ser. Heere's my Lord.

Luc. One of Lord Timons men? A Guift I warrant.
Why this hits right: I dreamt of a Silver Bafon & Ewre
to night. *Flaminius*, honest *Flaminius*, you are verie re-
ſpectiually welcome fir. Fill me some Wine. And how
does that Honourable, Compleate, Free-hearted Gentle-

man of Athens, thy very bountifull good Lord and May-
ſter?

Flam. His health is well fir.

Luc. I am right glad that his health is well fir : and
what haſt thou there vnder thy Cloake, pretty *Flaminius*?

Flam. Faith, nothing but an empty box Sir, which in
my Lords behalfe, I come to intreat your Honor to ſup-
ply: who hauing great and instant occasion to vſe ſiſtie
Talents, hath ſent to your Lordship to furniſh him: no-
thing doubting your preſent affiſtance therein.

Luc. La, la, la, la: Nothing doubting ſayes hee? Alas
good Lord, a Noble Gentleman'tis, if he would not keep
to good a houſe. Many a time and often I ha din'd with
him, and told him on't, and come againe to ſupper to him
of purpose, to haue him ſpend leſſe, and yet he wold em-
brace no counſell, take no warning by my comming, eue-
ry man has his fault, and honesty is his. I ha told him on't,
but I could nere get him from't.

Enter *Sernant with Wine*.

Ser. Pleafe your Lordship, heere is the Wine.

Luc. *Flaminius*, I haue noted thee always wife.
Heere's to thee,

Flam. Your Lordship ſpeakes your pleafure.

Luc. I haue obferued thee alwayse for a towardlie
prompt ſpirit, giue thee thy due, and one that knowes
what belongs to reafon; and can't vſe the time wel, if the
time vſe thee well. Good parts in thee ; get you gone fir-
rah. Draw neerer honest *Flaminius*. Thy Lords a boun-
tifull Gentleman, but thou art wife, and thou know'ſt
well enough (although thou com'ſt to me) that this is no
time to lend money, eſpecially vpon bare friendſhipe
without ſecuritie. Here's three *Solidares* for thee, good
Boy winke at me, and ſay thou ſaw'ſt mee not. Fare thee
well.

Flam. Is't poſſible the world ſhould be much diſſer,
And we alive that liued ? Fly damned baſeneſſe
To him that worſhips thee.

Luc. Ha ? Now I ſee thou art a Foole, and fit for thy
Maſter.

Exit L.

Flam. May theſe adde to the number ? may ſcald thee:
Let moulten Coine be thy damnation,
Thou diſeaſe of a friend, and not himſelfe :
Has friendſhip ſuch a faint and milkie heart,

It turnes in leſſe then two nighe? O you Gods!

I ſeele my Maſters paffion. This Slaue vnto his Honor,
Has my Lords meate in him :

Why should it thrine, and tune to Nutriment,

When he is turn'd to poyſon ?

O may Diſeaſes onely worke vpon't:
And when he's ſicke to death, let not that part of Nature

Which my Lord payd for, be of any power

To expell ſickneſſe, but prolong his hower.

Exit.

Enter *Lucius*, with three ſtrangers.

Luc. Who the Lord Timon? He is my very good friend
and an Honourable Gentleman.

I We know him for no leſſe, thogh we are but ſtran-
gers to him. But I can tell you one thing my Lord, and
which I heare from common rumours, now Lord *Timons*
happie howres are done and paſt, and his eſtate ſhrinkes
from him.

Lucius. Fye no, do not beleuee it: hee cannot want
for money.

2. But beleuee you this my Lord, that not long age,
one of his men was with the Lord *Lucullus*, to borrow ſo
many Talents, nay vrg'd extreamly for't, and ſhewed
what

Timon of Athens.

86

what necessity belong'd too't, and yet was deny'd.

Luci. How?

2 I tell you, deny'de my Lord.

Luci. What a strange case was that? Now before the
Gods I am afham'd on't. Denied that honourable man ?
There was verie little Honour shew'd in't. For my owne
part, I muft needes confesse, I haue receyed fome ſmall
kindneſſes from him, as Money, Plate, Jewels, and ſuch
like Trifles; nothing comparing to his: yet had hee mi-
ſooke him, and ſent to me, I should ne're haue denied his
Occafion to many Talents.

Enter Servilius.

Seruil. See, by good hap yonders my Lord, I haue
ſwet to ſee his Honor. My Honor'd Lord.

Lucil. Seruilius? You are kindly met fir. Farthewell,
commend me to thy Honourable vertuous Lord, my ve-
ſy exquifeable Friend.

Seruil. May it please your Honour, my Lord hath
ſent—

Luci. Ha? what ha's he ſent? I am ſo much encreered
to that Lord; hee's euer ſending: how ſhall I thank him
think'ſt thou? And what has he ſent now?

Seruil. Has onely ſent his preſent Occafion now my
Lord: requeſting your Lordſhip to ſupply his inſtant ve-
with ſo many Talents.

Lucil. I know his Lordſhip is but merry with me,
He cannot want fifty ſiue hundred Talents.

Seruil. But in the mean time he wants leſſe my Lord.
If his occafion were not vertuous,
I think not vrge it halſe ſo faithfully.

Luc. Doſt thou ſpeake ſeriously Seruilius?

Seruil. Vpon my ſoule 'tis true Sir.

Luci. What a wicked Beaſt was I to disſurmiſh my
ſelf againſt ſuch a good time, when I might ha ſhewn my
ſelfe Honourable? How vnluckily it hapned, that I ſhold
Purchaſe the day before for a little part, and vndo a great
deale of Honour? Seruilius, now before the Gods I am
not able to do (the more beaſt I ſay) I was ſending to ve-
Lord Timon my ſelſe, theſe Gentlemen can wittneſſe; but
I would not for the wealth of Athens I had done'nt now.
Commend me bountiſully to his good Lordſhip, and I
hope his Honor will conceiue the faireſt of me, because
I haue no power to be kinde. And tell him this from me,
I count it one of my greatest affiſtions ſay, that I cannot
pleaſure ſuch an Honourable Gentleman. Good Seruili-
us, will you beſtrend mee ſo farre, as to ve mine owne
words to him?

Ser. Yes fir, I ſhall. Exit Seruil.

Luci. Ile looke you out a good turne Seruilius.

True as you ſaid, Timon is ſhrunke indeede,

And he that's once deny'de, will hardly ſpcede. Exit.

1 Do you obſerue this Hofilius ?

2 I, to well.

I. Why this is the worlds ſoule,
And iuſt of the fame peeece
Is euery Flatterer's ſport: who can call him his Friend
That dips in the fame diſp? For in my knowing
Timon has bin this Lords Father,

And kept his credit with his purſe:
Supported his eſtate, nay Timons money
Has paid his men their wages. He ne're drinkes,
But Timons Siluer treads vpon his Lip,
And yet, oh ſee the monſtrouſe neſſe of man,
When he looks out in an vngrateſſul ſhape;
He does deny him (in reſpect of his)

What charitable men affoord to Beggers.

3 Religion grones at it.

1 For mine owne part, I neuer taſted Timon in my life
Nor came any of his bounties ouer me,
To matke me for his Friend. Yet I proteſt,
For his right Noble minde, ilſtrous Vertue,
And Honourable Carriage,
Had his neceſſity made ve of me,
I would haue put my wealth into Donation,
And the beſt halſe ſhould haue return'd to him,
So much I loue his heart: But I perceiue,
Men muſt learne now with pitty to diſpence,
For Policy fits aboue Conſience.

Exenut.

Enter a third ſeruant with Sempronius, another
of Timons Friends.

Semp. Muſt he needs trouble me in't? Hum.
'Boue all others?

He might haue tried Lord Lucius, or Lucullus,
And now Ventidgins is wealthy too,
Whom he redeem'd from prifon. All theſe
Owes their eſtates vnto him.

Ser. My Lord,

They haue all bin touch'd, and found Bafe-Mettle,
For they haue all denied him.

Semp. How? Haue they deny'de him?
Has Ventidgins and Lucullus deny'de him,
And does he ſend to me? Three? Humh?
It ſhewes but little loue, or judgement in him.
Muſt I be his laſt Refuge? His Friends (like Phyſitians)
Thriue, giue him ouer: Muſt I take th' Cure vpon me?
Has much diſgrac'd me in't, I' me angry at him,
That might haue knowne my place. I fee no ſenſe ſon't,
But his Occafions might haue wooed me firſt:
For in my conſience, I was the firſt man
That ere received guift from him.

And does he thinke so backwardly of me now,
That Ile requite it laſt? No:

So it may proue an Argument of Laughter
To th' reſt, and 'mong' ſt Lords be thought a Foole:
I'de rather then the worth of thrice the ſumme,
Had ſent to me firſt, but for my mindeſe ſake:
I'de ſuch a courage to do him good. But now retume,
And with their faint reply, this anſwer ioyne:

Who bates raine Honor, ſhall not know my Coyne. Exen.

Ser. Excellent: Your Lordſhips a goodly Villain: the
diuell knew not what he did, when hee made man Poli-
ticke; he croſſed himſelfe by't: and I cannot thinke, but
in the end, the Villanies of man will fet him cleere. How
fairely this Lord ſtrikes to appeare ſoule? Takes Vertu-
ous Copies to be wicked: like thofe, that vnder houſe-
dent zeale, would fet whole Realmes on fire, of ſuch a na-
ture is his politike loue.

This was my Lords beſt hope, now all are fled
Saue onely the Gods. Now his Friends are dead,
Doores that were ne're acquainted with their Wards
Many a bounteous yeere, muſt be imploy'd

Now to guard ſure their Maſter:
And this is all a liberall courſe allows,

Who cannot keepe his wealth, muſt keep his houſe. Exen.
Var. man. Well met, goodmorrow Titus & Hortensius.

Enter Varro's man, meeting others. All Timons Creditors to
wait for his comming out. Then enter Lucius
and Hortenſius.

Timon of Athens.

87

Tit. The like to you kinde Varro.

Hort. Lucius, what do we meet together?

Luci. I, and I think one businesse do's command vs all.
For mine is money.

Tit. So is theirs, and ours.

Enter Philostus.

Luci. And fir Philostus too.

Phil. Good day at once.

Luci. Welcome good Brother.

What do you thinke the hours ?

Phil. Labouring for Nine.

Luci. So much?

Phil. Is not my Lord feene yet?

Luci. Not yet.

Phil. I wonder on't, he was won't to shine at feauen.

Luci. I, but the dayes are waxt shorter with him :

You muft consider, that a Prodigall course

Is like the Sunnes, but not like his recoverable, I feare :
'Tis deepeft Winter in Lord Timons purfe, that is: One
may reach deepe enough, and yet finde little.

Phil. I am of your feare, for that.

Tit. Ile shew you how t'obferue a strange event :

Your Lord fends now for Money?

Hort. Moft true, he doc's.

Tit. And he weares lewels now of Timons guife,

For which I waite for money.

Hort. It is againft my heart.

Luci. Marke how it fhould it howes,

Timon in this, ſhould pay more then he owes :

And e'ne as if your Lord ſhould weare rich lewels,

And fend for money for 'em.

Hort. I'ne weary of this Charge,

The Gods can witteneſſe :

I know your Lord hath ſpent of Timons wealth,

And now Ingratitude, makes it worſe then ſtealth.

Varro. Yes, mine's three thouſand Crownes :

What's yours ?

Luci. Fiuſe thouſand mine.

Varro. 'Tis much deepe, and it ſhould ſeem by th' ſum
Your Maſters confidence was aboue mine,

Elle ſurely his had equal'd.

Enter Flamininus.

Tit. One of Lord Timons men.

Luci. Flamininus Sir, a word : Pray is my Lord readie
to come forth ?

Flam. No, indeed he is not.

Tit. We attend his Lordship: pray ſignifie ſo much.

Flam. I need not tell him that, he knowes you are too

Enter Steward in a Cloake, muffled. (diligent.

Luci. Ha : is not that his Steward muffled ſo ?

He goes away in a Clowd: Call him, call him.

Tit. Do you heare, fir ?

2. Varro. By your leaue, fir.

Stew. What do ye aske of me, my Friend.

Tit. We waite for certaine Money heere, fir.

Stew. I, if Money were as certaine as your waiting,

Twere ſure enough.

Why then preferred you not your ſummes and Billes

When your falſe Maſters eate of my Lords meat ?

Then they could ſmile, and fawne vpon his debts,

And take downe th'Intreft into their glutt'nous Mawes.

You do your felues but wrong, to firre me vp,

Let me paſſe quietly :

Beleeue't, my Lord and I haue made an end,

I haue no more to reckon, he to ſpend.

Luci. I, but this anſwer will not ſerue.

Stew. If't will not ſerue, 'tis not ſo base as you,
For you ſerue Knaues.

1. Varro. How? What does his caſheer'd Worſhip
mutter ?

2. Varro. No matter what, hee's poore, and that's re-
uenge enough. Who can ſpeake broader, then hee that
has no houſe to put his head in? Such may rayle againſt
great buildings.

Enter Servilius.

Tit. Oh heere's Servilius: now wee ſhall know ſome
anſwere.

Seru. If I might beſeech you Gentlemen, to repayre
ſome other houre, I ſhould deriue much from't. For tak't
of my ſoule, my Lord leanes wondrously to diſcontent :
His comfortable temper has forſooke him, he's much out
of health, and keepes his Chamber.

Luci. Many do keepe their Chambers, are not ſicke :
And if it be ſo farre beyond his health,

Me thinkes he ſhould the ſooner pay his debts,

And make a cleere way to the Gods.

Servil. Good Gods.

Titus. We cannot take this for anſwer, fir.

Flamininus within. Servilius helpe, my Lord, my Lord.

Enter Timon in a rage.

Tim. What, are my dores oppoſ'd againſt my paſſage?
Have I bin euer free, and muſt my houſe

Be my retentive Enemy? My Gaole?

The place which I haue Feaſted, does it now
(Like all Mankinde) ſhew me an Iron heart ?

Luci. Put in now Titus.

Tit. My Lord, heere is my Bill.

Luci. Here's mine.

1. Var. And mine, my Lord.

2. Var. And ours, my Lord.

Phil. All our Billes.

Tim. Knocke me downe with 'em, cleaue mee to the
Girdle.

Luc. Alas, my Lord.

Tim. Cut my heart in ſummes.

Tit. Mine, fifty Talents.

Tim. Tell out my blood.

Luc. Fiuſe thouſand Crownes, my Lord.

Tim. Fiuſe thouſand drops payes that.

What yours? and yours?

1. Var. My Lord.

2. Var. My Lord.

Tim. Teare me, take me, and the Gods fall vpon you.

Exit Timon.

Hort. Faith I perceiue our Maſters may throwe their
caps at their money, theſe debts may well be call'd despe-
rate ones, for a madman owes 'em.

Exeunt.

Enter Timon.

Timon. They haue e'ne put my breath from mee the
flaues. Creditors ? Diuels.

Stew. My deere Lord.

Tim. What if it ſhould be ſo?

Stew. My Lord.

Tim. Ile haue it ſo. My Steward?

Stew. Heere my Lord.

Tim. So ſit ſoly ? Go, bid all my Friends againe,

Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius Vlerxa: All,
Ile once more ſeaf the Rafaſcs.

Stew. O my Lord, you onely ſpeake from your diſtra-
ſed ſoule; there's not ſo much left to, furnish out a mo-
derate Table.

Timon

["Timon of Athens.", "88", "Tim. Be it not in thy care:\nGo I charge thee, inuite them all, let in the tide\nOf Knaues once more: my Cooke and Ile prouide, Exeunt", "Enter three Senators at one door, Alcibiades meeting them, with Attendants.", "1. Sen. My Lord, you haue my voyce, too't,\nThe faults Bloody:", "'Tis neceffary he should dye:", "Nothing imboldens finne so much, as Mercy.", "2 Moft true; the Law shall bruife 'em.", "Alc. Honor, health, and compassion to the Senate.", "1 Now Captaine.", "Alc. I am an humble Sutor to your Vertues;", "For pitry is the vertue of the Law,\nAnd none but Tyrants vse it cruelly.", "It pleafes time and Fortune to lye heauie", "Vpon a Friend of mine, who in hot blood", "Hath fept into the Law: which is paft depth", "To thate that (without heede) do plunge into't.", "He is a Man (fetting his Fate afide) of comely Vertues,", "Nor did he foyle the fact with Cowardice,\n(And Honour in him, which buyes out his fault)", "But with a Noble Fury, and faire ſpirit,", "Seeing his Reputation touch'd to death,", "He did oppofe his Foe:", "And with luch ſober and vnnoted paffion", "He did behooue his anger ere 'twas ſpent,", "As if he had but prou'd an Argument.", "1 Sen. You undergo too strict a Paradox,", "Striuing to make an vgly deed looke faire:", "Your words haue tooke ſuch paines, as if they labour'd", "To bring Man-fraughtler into forme, and fet Quarrelling", "Vpon the head of Valour; which indeede", "Is Valour miſbegot, and came into the world,", "When Seets, and Factions were newly borne.", "Hee's truly Valiant, that can wifely ſuffer", "The workt that man can breath,", "And make his Wrongs, his Out-liders,", "To weare them like his Rayment, careleffely,", "And ne're prefere his injuries to his heart;", "To bring it into danger.", "If Wrongs be euilles, and inforce vs kill,", "What Folly 'tis, to hazard life for Ill.", "Alci. My Lord.", "1. Sen. You cannot make groſſe finnes looke cleare,\nTo reuenge is no Valour, but to beare.", "Alci. My Lords, then vnder fauour, pardon me,", "If I ſpeak like a Captaine.", "Why do fond men expoſe themſelues to Battell,", "And not endure all threats ? Sleepe vpon't,", "And let the Foes quietly cut their Throats", "Without repugnancy ? If there be", "Such Valour in the bearing, what make wee", "Abroad? Why then, Women are more valiant", "That ſlay at home, if Bearing carry it:", "And the Aſſe, more Captaine then the Lyon?", "The fellow loaden with Irons, wifer then the Iudge?", "If Wifedome be in suffering, Oh my Lords,", "As you are great, be pittifully Good,", "Who cannot condemne rafhneſſe in cold blood?", "To kill, I grant, is finnes extreameſt Guſt,", "But in defence, by Mercy, 'tis moſt iuſt.", "To be in Anger, is impieſtive :", "But who is Man, that is not Angrie.", "Weigh but the Crime with this.", "2. Sen. You breath in vaine,", "Alci. In vaine?", "His ſeruice done at Lacedemon, and Bizantium,\nWere a ſufficient briber for his life.", "1 What's that?", "Alc. Why ſay my Lords ha's done faire ſeruice,\nAnd ſaine in fight many of your enemies:", "How full of valour did he beare himselfe", "In the laſt Conflit, and made plenteous wounds?", "2 He has made too much plenty with him:", "He's a ſworne Riotor, he has a finne", "That often drownes him, and takes his valour prifoner.", "If there were no Foes, that were enough", "To ouercome him. In that Beaſtly ſurie,", "He has bin knowne to commit outrages,", "And cherriſh Factions. 'Tis inſerr'd to vs,", "His dayes are foule, and his drinke dangerous,", "1 He dyes.", "Alci. Hard fate: he might haue dyed in warre.", "My Lords, if not for any parts in him,", "Though his right armere might purchafe his owne time,", "And be in debt to none: yet more to moue you,", "Take my deferts to his, and ioyne 'em both.", "And for I know, your reuerend Ages loue Security,", "Ile pawne my Victories, all my Honour to you", "Vpon his good returns.", "If by this Crime, he owes the Law his life,", "Why let the Warre receiue't in valiant gore,", "For Law is strict, and Warre is nothing more.", "1 We are for Law, he dyes, vnrget no more", "On height of our diſpleafure: Friend, or Brother?", "He forfeits his owne blood, that ſpilles another.", "Alc. Muff it be ſo? It muſt not bee:", "My Lords, I do beſeeth you know mee.", "2 How?", "Alc. Call me to your remembrances.", "3 What.", "Alc. I cannot thinke but your Age has forgot me,", "It could not eſſe be, I should proue ſo bace,", "To ſue and be deny'd ſuch common Grace.", "My wounds ake at you.", "1 Do you dare our anger ?", "'Tis in ſew words, but ſpacious in effect:", "We baniſh thee for euer.", "Alc. Baniſh me?", "Banifh your dotage, banifh vſurie,", "That makes the Senate vgly.", "1 If after two dayes ſhine, Athens containe thee,", "Attend our waightier Iudgement.", "And not to ſwell our Spirit,", "He ſhall be executed prefently.", "Exeunt.", "Alc. Now the Gods keepe you old enough,", "That you may liue", "Onely in bone, that none may looke on you,", "I'm worſe then mad: I haue kept backe their Foes", "While they haue told their Money, and let out", "Their Coine vpon large intereſt. I my ſelfe,", "Rich only in large hurts. All thatoſe, for this?", "Is this the Balfome, that the vſuring Senat", "Powres into Captaines wounds? Banifhment.", "It comes not ill: I hate not to be baniſht,", "It is a caufe worthy my Spleene and Furie,", "That I may ſtrike at Athens. Ile cheere vp", {"bbox": [691, 1317, 1003, 1344], "category": "Text

Timon of Athens.

89

Enter diners Friends at feurall doores.

1 The good time of day to you, fir.

2 I also wish it to you : I thinke this Honorable Lord
did but try vs this other day.

1 Vpon that were my thoughts tyring when wee en-
countred. I hope it is not so low with him as he made it
feeme in the triall of his feuerall Friends.

2 It should not be, by the perfuſation of his new Fea-
ſting.

1 I should thinke so. He hath ſent mee an earneſt in-
uiting, which many my neere occafions did vrge mee to
put off : but he hath coniur'd mee beyond them, and I
muſt needs appeare.

2 In like manner was I in debt to my importunat bu-
fineſſe, but he would not heare my excufe. I am forrie,
when he ſent to borrow of mee, that my Prouſion was
out.

1 I am ſick of that greeſe too, as I vnderstand how all things go.

2 Every man heares so : what would hee haue borro-
wed of you?

1 A thousand Peeces.

2 A thousand Peeces?

1 What of you?

2 He ſent to me fir — Heere he comes.

Enter Timon and Attendants.

Tim. With all my heart Gentlemen both; and how
fare you?

1 Euer at the beſt, hearing well of your Lordſhip.

2 The Swallow followes not Summer more willing,
then we your Lordship.

Tim. Nor more willingly leaues Winter, ſuch Sum-
mer Birds are men. Gentlemen, our dinner will not re-
compence this long stay: Feaſt your eares with the Mu-
ficke awhile: If they will ſare for harſhly o'th'Trumpets
found: we ſhall too't prefently.

1 I hope it remains not vnkindely with your Lord-
ship, that I return'd you an empty Meſſenger.

Tim. O fir, let it not trouble you.

2 My Noble Lord.

Tim. Ah my good friend, what cheere?

The Banket brought in.

2 My moſt Honorable Lord, I am e're ſick of ſhame,
that when your Lordship this other day ſent to me, I was
ſo vnfortunate a Beggar.

Tim. Thinke not on't, fir.

2 If you had ſent but two hours before.

Tim. Let it not cumber your better remembrance.

Come bring in all together.

2 All courer'd Difhes.

1 Royall Cheare, I warrant you.

3 Doubt not that, if money and the feafon can yeild it

1 How do you? What's the newes ?

3 Alcibiades is banifh'd : heare you of it?

Both. Alcibiades banifh'd?

3 'Tis ſo, be ſure of it.

1 How ? How?

2 I pray you vpon what ?

Tim. My worthy Friends, will you draw neere ?

3 Ile tell you more anon. Here's a Noble feaſt toward

2 This is the old man still.

3 Wilt hold? Wilt hold?

2 It do's : but time will, and so.

3 I do conceyue.

Tim. Each man to his floole, with that spurre as hee
would to the lip of his Miftris: your dyet shall bee in all
places alike. Make not a Citie Feaſt of it, to let the meat
coole, ere we can agree vpon the firſt place. Sit, ſit.
The Gods require our Thankes.

Yon great Benefactors, ſprinkle our Society with Thanke-
fulneſſe. For your owne guifts, make your ſelues prais'd: But
reſerve ſill to giue, leaſt your Deities be deſſiſed. Lend to each
man enough, that one neeſt not lend to another. For were your
Godheads to borrow of men, men would forſake the Gods. Make
the Meate be beloved, more then the Man that giues it. Let
no Affembly of Twenty, be without a ſcore of Villaines. If there
ſit twelve Women at the Table, let a dozen of them bee as they
are. The reſt of your Fees, O Gods, the Senators of Athens,
together with the common legge of People, what is amiffle in
them, you Gods, make ſuſeable for deſtruction. For theſe my
prefent Friends, as they are to mee nothing, ſo in nothing bleſſe
them, and to nothing are they welcome.

Vncourer Dogges, and lap.

Some ſpeake. What do's his Lordſhip meane ?

Some other. I know not.

Timon. May you a better Feaſt neuer behold

You knot of Mouth-Friends: Smoke, & lukewarm water

Is your perſection. This is Timons laſt,
Who ſtucke and ſpangled you with Flatteries,

Waſhes it off, and sprinkles in your faces

Your reeking villany. Liue loath'd, and long

Moſt smiling, smooth, detefted Parafites,

Curteous Dettroyers, affable Wolues, meeke Beares:

You Fooles of Fortune, Trencher-friends, Times Flyes,

Cap and knee-Slaues, vapours, and Minute Lackes.

Of Man and Beaſt, the infinite Maladie

Croſt you quite o're. What do't thou go?

Soft, take thy Phyſicke firſt ; thou too, and thou:

Stay I will lend thee money, borrow none.

What? All in Motion? Henceforth be no Feaſt,

Whereat a Villaine's not a welcome Gueſt.

Burne houſe, ſinke Athens, henceforth hated be

Of Timon Man, and all Humanity.

Exit

Enter the Senators, with other Lords.

1 How now, my Lords?

2 Know you the quality of Lord Timons ſury ?

3 Pufh, did you fee my Cap?

4 I haue loft my Gowne.

1 He's but a mad Lord, & nought but humors (waies
him. Hegaue me a Iewell th'other day, and now hee has
beate it out of my hat.

Did you fee my Iewell?

2 Did you fee my Cap.

3 Heere 'tis.

4 Heere lyes my Gowne.

1 Let's make no ſtay.

2 Lord Timons mad.

3 I feel't vpon my bones.

4 One day he giues vs Diamonds, next day ſtones.

Exeunt the Senators.

Enter Timon.

Tim. Let me looke backe vpon thee. O thou Wall

That girdles in thofe Wolues, diue in the earth,

And fence not Athens. Matrons, turne incontinent,

Obedience ſayle in Children: Slaues and Fooles

h h

Plucke

Timon of Athens.

90

Plucke the graue wrinkled Senate from the Bench,
And minifter in their fleeds, to generall Filthes.
Conuert o'th'Infant Greene Virginity,
Doo't in your Parents eyes. Bankrupts, hold faſt
Rather then render backe; out with your Knüies,
And cut your Truſlers throates. Bound Seruants, reale,
Large-handed Robbers your graue Maſters are,
And pill by Law. Maide, to thy Maſters bed,
Thy Miftris is o'th'Brothell. Some of ſixteen,
Plucke the lyn'd Crutch from thy old humping Sire,
With it, beate out his Braines. Piety, and Feare,
Religion to the Gods, Peace, Iſtice, Truth,
Domesticke awe, Night-reſt, and Neighbour-hood,
Inſtruction, Manners, Mysteries, and Trades,
Degrees, Obſeruances, Cúſtomes, and Lawes,
Decline to your confounding contraries.
And yet Conſuſion liue: Plagues incident to men,
Your potent and infectious Feavors, heape
On Athens ripe for ſtroke. Thou cold Sciatica,
Cripple our Senators, that their limbes may halt
Aslamely as their Manners. Luft, and Libertie
Creepe in the Mindes and Marrowes of our youth,
That 'gainſt the ſtreame of Vertue they may ſtrium,
And drowne themſelues in Riot. Itches, Blaines,
Sowe all th'Athenian boſomes, and their crop
Be generall Leproſe: Breath, inſect breath,
That their Society (as their Friendship) may
Be meereely poyſon. Nothing Ile beare from thee
But nakedneſſe, thou detestable Towne:
Take thou that too, with multiplying Bannes : 
Timon will to the Woods, where he ſhall finde
Th'vnkindeſt Beaſt, more kinder then Mankinde.
The Gods confound (heare me you good Gods all)
Th'Athenians both within and out that Wall :
And graunt as Timon growes, his hate may grow
To the whole race of Mankinde, high and low.
Amen.
Exit.

Enter Steward with two or three Seruants.

1 Heare you M. Steward, where's our Maſter?
Are we vndone, caſt off, nothing remaining?

Stew. Alack my Fellowes, what ſhould I ſay to you?
Let me be recorded by the righteouſ Gods,
I am as poor: as you.

1 Such a House broke?
So Noble a Maſter falne, all gone, and not
One Friend to take his Fortune by the arme,
And go along with him.
2 As we do turne our backes
From our Companion, throwne into his graue,
So his Familiars to his buried Fortunes
Slinke all away. leaue their falſe vowes with him
Like empty purſes pickt; and his poore ſelſe
A dedicated Beggar to the Ayre,
With his diſeale, of all ſhunn'd pauerty,
Walkes like contempt alone. More of our Fellowes.

Enter other Seruants.

Stew. All broken Implements of a ruin'd house,

3 Yet do our hearts weare Timons Liuery,
That fee I by our Faces: we are Fellowes ſtill,
Serving alike in ſorrow: Leak'd is our Barke,
And we poore Mates, ſtand on the dying Decke,
Hearing the Surges threat: we muſt all part
into this Sea of Ayre.

Stew. Good Fellowes all,

The lateſt of my wealth Ile share amongſt you.
Where euer we ſhall meete, for Timons ſake,
Let's yet be Fellowes. Let's shake our heads, and ſay
As'twere a Knell vnto our Maſters Fortunes,
We haue ſeene better dayes. Let each take ſome:
Nay put out all your hands : Not one word more,
Thus part we rich in ſorrow, parting poore.

Embrace and part ſeverall wayes.

Oh the ſterce wretchedneſſe that Glory brings vs!
Who would not wſt to be from wealth exempt,
Since Riches point to Mifery and Contempt?
Who would be ſo mock'd with Glory, or to liue
But in a Dreame of Friendship,
To haue his pompe, and all what ſtate compounds,
But only painted like his varnifht Friends :
Poor honest Lord, brought lowe by his owne heart,
Vndone by Goodneſſe: Strange vnſuall blood,
When mans worſt ſinne is, He do's too much Good.
Who then dares to be halſe ſo kinder agen?
For Bounty that makes Gods, do ſtill marre Men.
My deereſt Lord, bleſſ to be moſt accuſt,
Rich only to be wretched; thy great Fortunes
Are made thy cheeſe Affiſtions. Alas (kinde Lord)
Hee's ſung in Rage from this ingratefull Seate
Of moſtrous Friends:
Nor ha's he with him to ſupply his life,
Or that which can command it:
Ile follow and enquire him out.
Ile euer ſerue his minde, with my beſt will,
Whilſt I haue Gold, Ile be his Steward ſtill.

Exit.

Enter Timon in the woods.

Tim. O bleſſed breeding Sun, draw from the earth
Rotten humidity: below thy Sifters Orbe
Inſect the ayre. Twin'd Brothers of one wombe,
Whose procreation, reſidence, and birth,
Scarſe is diuvidant; touch them with ſeuerall fortunes,
The greater ſornes the leſſer. Not Nature
(To whom all ſores lay ſiege) can beare great Fortune
But by contempt of Nature.
Raſe me this Begger, and deny't that Lord,
The Senators ſhall beare contempt Hereditary
The Begger Native Honor.
It is the Paſtour Lards, the Brothers ſides,
The want that makes him leaue: who dares? who dares
In puritie of Manhood ſtand vpright
And ſay, this man a Flatterer. If one be,
So are they all: for euerie grize of Fortune
Is smooth'd by that below. The Learned pate
Duckes to the Golden Foole. All's obliquie:
There 'snothing leuell in our curſed Natures
But direſt villanie. Therefore be abhorr'd,
All Feaſts, Societies, and Throngs of men.
His ſemblable, yea himſelfe Timon diſdaines,
Deſtruction phang mankinde; Earth yeeld me Rootes,
Who ſeekes for better of thee, ſawce his pallace
With thy moſt operant Poyſon. What is heere?
Gold? Yellow, glittering, precious Gold?
No Gods, I am no idle Votarift,
Roots you cleere Heauens. Thus much of this will make
Blake, white; fowle, faire; wrong, right;
Bafe, Noble; Old, young; Coward, valiant.
Ha you Gods I why this? what this. you Gods? why this
Will lugge your Priefts and Seruants from your ſide;
Plucke ſlout mens pillowes from below their heads.

This

Timon of Athens.

91

This yellow Slaue,
Will knit and breake Religions, bleffe th'accurst,
Make the hoare Leproſe ador'd, place Theeues,
And giue them Title, knee, and approbation
With Senators on the Bench: This is it
That makes the wappen'd Widdow wed againe;
Shee, whom the Spittle-houſe, and viclerous ſores,
Would caſt the gorge at. This Embalmes and Spices
To'th'Aprill day againe. Come damn'd Earth,
Thou common whore of Mankinde, that puttes odde
Among the rout of Nations, I will make thee
Do thy right Nature.
Aterck of ſarre off.
Ha't A Drumme? Th'art quicke,
But yet Ie bury thee: Thou't go (ſtrong Theeſe)
When Gowty keepers of theo cannot ſtand :
Nay ſtay thou out for carneſt.

Enter Alcibiades with Drumme and Rife in warlike manner,
and Phrynia and Timandra.

Alc. What art thou there? I speake.
Tim. A Beaſt as thou art. The Canker gnaw thy hart
For chewing me againe the eyes of Man.
Alc. What is thy name? Is man so hatefull to thee,
That art thy ſelſe a Man?
Tim. I am Mifanropos, and hate Mankinde.
Forthy part, I do with thou wert a dogge,
That I might loue thee ſomething.
Alc. I know thee well:

But in thy Fortunes am vnlearn'd, and ſtrange.
Tim. I know thee too, and more then that I know thee
I not defire to know. Follow thy Drumme,
With mans blood paint the ground Gules, Gules :
Religious Cannons, ciuill Lawes are cruell,
Then what ſhould warre be? This ſell whore of thine,
Hath in her more deftruſion then thy Sword,
For all her Cherubin looke.

Phryn. Thy lips rot off.

Tim. I will not kiffe thee, then the rot returns
To thine owne lippes againe.

Alc. How came the Noble Timon to this change?
Tim. As the Moone do's, by wanting light to giue:
But then renew I could not like the Moone,
There were no Sunnes to borrow of.

Alc. Noble Timon, what friendſhip may I do thee?

Tim. None, but to maintaine my opinion.

Alc. What is it Timon?

Tim. Promife me Friendſhip, but perſorme none.
If thou wilt not promife, the Gods plague thee, for thou
art a man: if thou doſt performe, confound thee, for
thou art a man.

Alc. I haue heard in ſome ſort of shy Miferies.

Tim. Thou faw'd them when I had proſperitie.

Alc. I ſee them now, then was a bleſſed time.

Tim. As thine is now, held with a brace of Harlots.

Timan. Is this th' Athenian Minion, whom the world
Voic'd to regardfully?

Tim. Art thou Timandra?

Timan. Yes.

Tim. Be a whole ſill, they loue thee not that vie thee,
give them diſeafeſ, leaving with thee their Luft. Make
vie of thy ſalt houres, ſeafon the ſlaves for Tubbes and
Bathes, bring downe Rove-cheekt youth to the Fabſaſt,
and the Diet.

Timan. Hang thee Monſter.

Alc. Pardon him ſweet Timandra, for his wits
Are droun'd and loft in his Calamities.

I haue but little Gold of late, braue Timon,
The want whereof, doth daily make reuolt
In my penurious Band. I haue heard and greeu'd
How curſed Athens, mindeſſe of thy worth,
Forgetting thy great deeds, when N'ighbour flates
But for thy Sword and Fortune trod upon them.

Tim. I prythee beate thy Drum, and get thee gone.

Alc. I am thy Friend, and p'ty thee deere Timon.

Tim. How doſt thou pitty him whom I doſt troble,
I had rather be alone.

Alc. Why fare thee well:
Here is some Gold for thee.

Tim. Keepe it, I cannot eate it.

Alc. When I haue laid proud Athens on a heape.

Tim. Warr't thou 'gainſt Athens.

Alc. 1 Timon, and haue cauſe.

Tim. The Gods confound them all in thy Conqueſt,
And thee after, when thou haſt Conquer'd.

Alc. Why me, Timon?

Tim. That by killing of Villaines
Thou was't burne to conquer my Country.
Put vp thy Gold. Go on, heeres Gold, go on;
Be as a Plannetary plague, when Ioue
Will ore some high-Vic'd City, hang his poyſon
In the ſicke ayre: let not thy ſword skip one:
Pitty not honour'd Age for his white Beard,
He is an Vſurer. Strike me the counterſet Matron,
It is her habite onely, that is honeſt,
Her ſelſe's a Bawd. Let not the Virgins cheque
Make ſoft thy trenchant Sword: for that of Milke pappes
That through the window Batne bore at mens eyes,
Are not within the Leafe of p'itty writ,
But ſet them down horrible Traitors. Spare not the Babe
Whofe dimpled ſmiles from Fooles exhaſt their mercy;
Thinke it a Baſtard, whom the Oracle
Hath doubtfully pronounced, the throat shall cut,
And mince it fans remorſe. Swear eate againſt Obieſt,
Put Armour on thine eares, and on thine eyes,
Whofe proofe, not yels of Mothers, Maides, nor Babes,
Nor fight of Prieſts in holy Věſtments bleeding,
Shall pierce a iet. There's Gold to pay thy ſouldiers,
Make large confuſion: and thy fury ſpent,
Confounded be thy ſelſe. Speake not, but be gone.

Alc. Haſt thou Gold yet, I le take the Gold thou giuſt me, not all thy Counſell.

Tim. Doſt thou or doſt thou not, Heauens curſe upon thee.

Both. Giue vs some Gold good Timon, haſt you more?

Tim. Enough to make a Whore forſweare her Trade,
And to make Whores, a Bawd. Hold vp you Sluts
Your Aprons mountant; you are not Othable,
Although I know you! ſweare, terribly ſweare
Into strong ſhudders, and to heauenly Aques
Th'immortall Gods that heare you. Spare your Oathes:
I le truſt to your Conditions, be whores ſtill.
And he whose pious breath feekes to conuert you,
Be strong in Whore, allure him, burne him vp,
Let your cloſe fire predominate his ſmoke,
And be no turne-coats: yet may your paines ſix months
Be quite contrary, And Thatch
Your poore thin Roofes with burthens of the dead,
(Some that were hang'd) no matter:
Weare them, berray with them; Whore ſtill,
Paint till a horſe may myre upon your ſaces:
A pox of wrinkles.

Both. Well, more Gold, what then?

hh z

Beleeue't

Timon of Athens.

92

Beleeue't that wee'l do any thing for Gold.

Tim. Consumptions fowe

In hollow bones of man, strike their sharpe shijones,
And marre mens spurring. Cracke the Lawyers voyce,
That he may neuer more falfe Title pleade,
Nor found his Quillets shrilly: Hoare the Flamen,
That ſcold it againſt the quality of ſleſh,
And not beleuees himſelfe. Downe with the Nofe,
Downe with it flat, take the Bridge quite away
Of him, that his particular to foreſee (bald
Smels from the generall weale. Make curld pate Ruffians
And let the vnſcarr'd Braggards of the Warre
Deriue ſome paine from you. Plague all,
That your Activity may defeat and quell
The fourſe of all Ereſion. There's more Gold,
Do you damne others, and let this damne you,
And ditches graue you all.

Both. More counſell with more Money, bounteous Timon.

Tim. More whore, more Mischeſe firſt, I haue giuen you earneſt.

Ale. Strike vp the Drum towards Athens, farewell Timon: if I thrive well, Ile viſit thee againe.

Tim. If I hope well, Ile neuer ſee thee more.

Ale. I neuer did thee harme.

Tim. Yes, thou ſpok'ſt well of me.

Ale. Call it thou that harme?

Tim. Men dayly finde it. Get thee away,
And take thy Beagles with thee.

Ale. We but offend him, strike.

Exeunt.

Tim. That Nature being ſicke of mans vnkindneſſe
Should yet be hungry: Common Mother, thou
Whose wome be vnmeaſureable, and infinite breast
Teemes and feeds all: whose ſelfeſame Mettle
Whereof thy proud Childe (arrogant man) is puſt,
Engenders the blacke Toad, and Adder blew,
The gilded Newt, and eyeſſe venom'd Werme,
With all that abhorred Births below Crispe Heauen,
Whereon Hyperions quickning fire doth ſhine:
Yeeld him, who all the humane Sonnes do hate,
From fourth thy plenteous boſome, one poore root:
Enſeare thy Fertile and Conceptious wombe,
Let it no more bring out ingratefull man.
Goe great with Tygers, Dragons, Wolues, and Beares,
Teeme with new Monſters, whom thy vpward face
Hath to the Marbled Manſion all aboute
Neuer preſented. O, a Root, deare thanks:
Dry vp thy Marrowes, Vines, and Plough-torne Leas,
Whereof ingratefull man with Licouriſh draughts
And Morſels Vnctious, greaſes his pure minde,
That from it all Conſideration flippes —

Enter Apemantus.

More man? Plague, plague.

Ape. I was directed hither. Men report,
Thou doſt affect my Manners, and doſt vſe them.

Tim. This then, because thou doſt not keepe a dogge
Whom I would imitate, Conſumption catch thee.

Ape. This is in thee a Nature but inſedt,
A poore vnmanly Melancholly ſpryng
From change of future. Why this Spade? this place?
This Slaue-like Habit, and theſe lookes of Care?
Thy Flatterers yet weare Silke, drinke Wine, lye ſoft,
Hugge their diſeas'd Perfumes, and haue forgot
That euer Timon was. Shamie not theſe Woods,
By putting on the cunning of a Carper.

Be thou a Flatterer now, and ſeeke to thrive

By that which ha's vndone thee; hingde thy knee,
And let his very breath whom thou'lt obſerue
Blow off thy Cap: praeſe his moſt vicious (traine,
And call it excellent: thou waſt told thus:

Thou gauſt thine eares (like Tapſters, that bad welcom)
To Knaues, and all approachers: 'Tis moſt iſt
That thou turne Raſcall, had'ſt thou wealth againe,
Raſcals should haue't. Do not affume my likeneſſe.

Tim. Were I like thee, I'de throw away my ſelfe.

Ape. Thou haſt caſt away thy ſelfe, being like thy ſelf
A Madman ſo long, now a Foole: what think't
That the bleake ayre, thy boyſterous Chamberlaine,
Will put thy ſhirt on warme? Will theſe moſt ſloſt
That haue out-liu'd the Eagle, page thy heeles
And skip when thou point'ſt out? Will the cold brooke
Candied with Ice, Cawdle thy Morning tafe
To cure thy o're-nights ſunſer? Call the Creatures,
Whose naked Natures lie in all the ſpight
Of wrekefull Heauen, whose bare vnhouſed Trunkes.
To the conflicting Elements expos'd
Anſwer meere Nature: bid them flatter thee,
O thou haſt finde.

Tim. A Foole of thee: depart.

Ape. I loue thee better now, then ere I did.

Tim. I hate thee worſe.

Ape. Why?

Tim. Thou flatter'd ſt misery.

Ape. I flatter not, but ſay thou art a Caytiffe.

Tim. Why doſt thou ſeeke me out?

Ape. To vex thee.

Tim. Alwayes a Villaines Office, or a Foole.
Doſt pleafe thy ſelfe in't?

Ape. I.

Tim. What, a Knaue too?

Ape. If thou did'ſt put this ſowre cold habit on
To caſtigate thy pride, 'were well: but thou
Doſt it enforcedly: Thou dſt Courtier be againe
Wert thou not Beggar: willing miſery
Out-lies: incertaine pompe, is crown'd before:
The one is filling ſtill, neuer compleat:
The other, at high wih: beſt ſtate Contentleſſe,
Hath a diſtraſted and moſt wretched being,
Worſe then the worſt, Content.

Thou should'ſt define to dye, being miſerable.

Tim. Not by his breath, that is more miſerable.
Thou art a Slave, whom Fortunes tender arme
With fauour neuer claſp: but bred a Dogge.
Had'ſt thou like vs from our firſt ſwath proceeded,
The ſweet degrees that this brieſe world affords,
To ſuch as may the paſſive drugges of it
Freely command'ſt: thou would'ſt haue plung'd thy ſelf
In generall Riot, melted downe thy youth
In different beds of Luft, and neuer learn'd
The Icie precepts of reſpect, but followed
The Sugred game before thee. But my ſelfe,
Who had the world as my Conſectionarie,
The mouthes, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of men,
At duty more then I could frame employment;
That numberleſſe upon me flucke, as leaues
Do on the Oake, haue with one Winters breath
Fell from their boughes, and left me open, bare,
For euery ſtorme that blowes. I to beare this,
That neuer knew but better, is ſome burthen:
Thy Nature, did commence in ſufferance, Time
Hath made thee hard in't. Why should'ſt y' hate Men?
They neuer flatter'd thee. What haſt thou giuen?

Timon of Athens.

93

If thou wile curse ; thy Father (that poorer ragge)
Must be thy subjeſt ; who in ſpight put ruffe

To some ſhee-Begger, and compounded thee
Poore Rogue, hereditary. Hence, be gone,
If thou hadt not bene borne the worth of men,
Thou hadt bene a Knaue and Flatterer.

Ape. Art thou proud yet?

Tim. I, that I am not thee.

Ape. I, that I was no Prodigall.

Tim. I, that I am one now.

Were all the wealth I have ſunt vp in the
I'd giue thee leaue to hang it. Get thee gone :
That the whole life of Athens were in this,
Thus would I eate it.

Ape. Heere, I will mend thy Feaſt.

Tim. First mend thy company, take away thy ſelſe.

Ape. So I ſhall mend mine owne, by th' lacke of thine

Tim. 'Tis not well mended so, it is but borcht;
If not, I would it were.

Ape. What would't thou haue to Athens ?

Tim. Thee thither in a whirlewind : if thou wilt,
Tell them there I haue Gold, looke, so I haue.

Ape. Heere is no vſe for Gold.

Tim. The beſt, and trueſt :

For heere it sleepes, and do's no hyred harme.

Ape. Where lyſt a nights Timon ?

Tim. Vnder that's about me.

Where ſeed't thou a-dayes Apemantus ?

Ape. Where my ſtomacke findes meate, or rather
where I eate it.

Tim. Would poyſon were obedient, & knew my mind

Ape. Where would't thou ſend it ?

Tim. To ſawce thy diſues.

Ape. The middle of Humanity thou neuer kneweſt,
but the extremitie of both ends. When thou waſt in thy
Gilt, and thy Perfume, they mockt thee for too much
Curioſitie: in thy Ragges thou know't none, but art de-
ſpis'd for the contrary. There's a medler for thee, eate it.

Tim. On what I hate, I feed not.

Ape. Do't hate a Medler?

Tim. I, though it looke like thee.

Ape. And ch' hadt hated Medlers ſooner, y' should'ſt
haue loued thy ſelſe better now. What man didd'ſt
euer know vnthrift, that was beloved after his meaneſe

Tim. Who without those meaneſes thou talk't of, didst
thou euer know belou'd?

Ape. My ſelſe.

Ape. I vndeſtand thee : thou hadt'ſt ſome meaneſ to
keepe a Dogge.

Ape. What things in the world canſt thou neereſt
compare to thy Flatterers?

Tim. Women neereſt, but men : men are the things
themselves. What would'ſt thou do with the world A-
pemantus, if it lay in thy power?

Ape. Giue it the Beaſts, to be rid of the men.

Tim. Would't thou haue thy ſelſe fall in the confusion of men, and remaine a Beaſt with the Beaſts.

Ape. I Timon.

Tim. A beaſtly Ambition, which the Goddes graunt
thou t'attaine to. If thou wert the Lyon, the Fox would
beguile thee. if thou wert the Lambe, the Foxe would
eate thee: if thou wert the Fox, the Lion would ſuspect
thou, when peradventure thou wert accus'd by the Aſſe:
If thou wert the Aſſe, thy dulneſſe would torment thee ;
and fill thou liu'dt but as a Breakeſt to the Wolfe. If
thou wert the Wolfe, thy greedineſſe would afflіſt thee,

& of thou should't hazard thy life for thy dinner. Wert
thou the Vnicome, pride and wrath would confound
thoe, and make thine owne ſelſe the conqueſt of thy fury.
Wert thou a Beare, thou would't be kill'd by the Horſe:
wert thou a Horſe, thou would't be ſeaz'd by the Leo-
pard: wert thou a Leopard, thou wert Germane to the
Lion, and the ſpottes of thy Kindred, were Jurors on thy
life. All thy safety were remotion, and thy defence ab-
fence. What Beaſt could't thou bee, that were not ſub-
jeſt to a Beaſt : and what a Beaſt art thou already, that
ſeelſt not thy ſoſſe in transformation.

Ape. If thou could't pleafe me
With speaking to me, thou might't

Haue hit vpon it heere.

The Commonwealth of Athens, is become
A Forreſt of Beaſts.

Tim. How ha's the Aſſe broke the wall, that thou art
out of the Citie.

Ape. Yonder comes a Poer and a Painter :
The plague of Company light vpon thee :
I will feare to catch it, and giue way.
When I know not what eſſe to do,
Ile fee thee againe.

Tim. When there is nothing liuing but thee,
Thou ſhalt be welcome.
I had rather be a Beggers Dogge,

Then Apemantus.

Ape. Thou art the Cap
Of all the Fooles aliuе.

Tim. Would thou wert cleane enough.
To ſpit vpon.

Ape. A plague on thee,
Thou art too bad to curſe.

Tim. All Villaines
That do ſtand by thee, are pure.

Ape. There is no Leproſic,

But what thou speak'ſt.

Tim. If I name thee, Ile beate thee;
But I should infect my hands.

Ape. I would my tongue
Could rot them off.

Tim. Away thou iſſue of a mangie dogge,
Choller does kill me,

That thou art aliuе, I ſwoond to fee thee,

Ape. Would thou would't burſt.

Tim. Away thou tedious Rogue, I am ſorry I ſhall
loſe a ſtone by thee.

Ape. Beaſt.

Tim. Slaue.

Ape. Toad.

Tim. Rogue,Rogue,Rogue.

I am ſicke of this ſalſe world, and will loue nought
But euen the meere neceſſities vpon't:
Then Timon preſently prepare thy graue :
Lye where the light Fome of the Sea may beate
Thy graue ſtone dayly; make thine Epitaph,
That death in me, at others liues may laugh.
O thou ſweete King-killer, and deare diuorce
Twixt naturall Sunne and fire: thou bright deſiler
of Himsens pureſt bed, thou valiant Mars,
Thou euer, yong, ſrefresh, loued, and delicate wooer,
Whole bluſh doth thawe the conſecrated Snow
That lyes on Dians lap.

Thou viſible God,
That ſouldreſt cloſe Impoſſibilities.

And mak't them kiffe; that speak't with euerie Tongue

hh 3

To

Timon of Athens.

94

To euerie purpofe: O thou touch of hearts,
Thinke thy flaue-man rebels, and by thy vertue
Set them into confounding oddes, that Beafts
May haue the world in Empire.

Ape. Would'twere so,
But not till I am dead. Ile fay th'haft Gold:
Thou wilt be throng'd too shortly.

Tim. Throng'd too?

Ape. I.

Tim. Thy backe i prythee.

Ape. Liue, and loue thy mifery.

Tim. Long liue so, and so dye. I am quit.

Ape. Mo things like men,

Eate Timon, and abhorre then.

Exit Apeman.

Enter the Bandetti.

1 Where should he haue this Gold? It is some poore Fragment, some slender Ott of his remainder: the meere want of Gold, and the falling from of his Friendes, druoe him into this Melancholly.

2 It is nois'd

He hath a maffe of Treasure.

3 Let vs make the affay vpon him, if he care not for't,
he will supply vs easily: if he couetoufly referue it, how
shall's get it?

2 True: for he beares it not about him:

'Tis hid.

1 Is not this hee?

All. Where?

2 'Tis his defcription.

3 He? I know him.

All. Saue thee Timon.

Tim. Now Theeues.

All. Soldiers, not Theeues.

Tim. Both too, and womens Sonnes.

All. We are not Theeues, but men

That much do want.

Tim. Your greateft want is, you want much of meat:
Why should you want ? Behold, the Earth hath Rootes:
Within this Mile breake forth a hundred Springs:
The Oakes beare Maſt, the Briars Scarlet Heps,
The bounteous Hufwife Nature, on each bufh,
Layes her full Meſſe before you. Want ? why Want ?

1 We cannot liue on Graſſe, on Berries, Water,
As Beaſts, and Birds, and Fſhes.

Ti. Nor on the Beaſts themſelues, the Birds & Fſhes,
You muſt eate men. Yet thankes I muſt you con,
That you are Theeues proſeſt: that you worke not
In holier ſhapes: For there is boundleſſe Theft
In limited Proſeffions. Raſcall Theeues
Heere's Gold. Go, fucke the ſubtle blood o'th'Grape,
Till the high Feauor ſeeth your blood to froth,
And to ſcape hanging. Truſt not the Phyſitian,
His Antidotes are poyſon, and he ſlayes
Moe then you Rob: Take wealth, and liues together,
Do Villaine do, ſince you proteſt to doot.

Like Workemen, Ile example you with Theeuery:
The Sunnes a Theefe, and with his great attraction
Robbes the vaſte Sea. The Moones an arrant Theefe,
And her pale fire, the ſnatches from the Sunne.
The Seas a Theefe, whoſe liquid Surge, reſolues
The Moone into Salt teares. The Earth's a Theefe,
That feeds and breeds by a compoſure ſolne
From gen'rall excrement: each thing's a Theefe.

The Lawes, your curbe and whip, in their rough power

Ha's vncheck'd Theft. Loue not your ſelues, away,
Rob one another, there's more Gold, cut throates,
All that you meete are Theeues : to Athens go,
Breake open hoppes, nothing can you ſteale
But Theeues do loofe it: ſteale leſſe, for this I giue you,
And Gold confound you howſoere: Amen.

3 Has almoſt charm'd me from my Proſeffion, by perſwading me to it.

1 'Tis in the malice of mankinde, that he thus auithides vs not to haue vs thrive in our myſtery.

2 He beleeue him as an Enemy,
And giue ouer my Trade.

1 Let vs firſt see peace in Athens, there is no time ſo miſerable, but a man may be true.

Exit Theeues.

Enter the Steward to Timon.

Stew. Oh you Gods !

Is yon'd deſpis'd and ruinous man my Lord ?

Full of decay and fayling ? Oh Monument
And wonder of good deeds, euilly beſtow'd !

What an alteration of Honor has deſp't rate want made?

What vilder thing vpon the earth, then Friends,

Who can bring Nobleft mindeſs, to bafeſt ends.

How rarely does it meete with this times guile,
When man was wiſht to loue his Enemies:

Grant I may euer loue, and rather woo

Thoſe that would miſcheefe me, then thoſe that doo,
Has caught me in his eye, I will preſent my honeſt grieſe
unto him; and as my Lord, ſtill ſerue him with my life.

My deereſt Maſter.

Tim. Away: what art thou ?

Stew. Haue you forgot me, Sir ?

Tim. Why doſt aske that? I haue forgot all men.

Then, if thou gruunt'ſt, th'art a man.

I haue forgot thee.

Stew. An honeſt poore ſeruant of yours.

Tim. Then I know thee not :

I neuer had honeſt man about me, I all

I kept were Knaues, to ſerue in meate to Villaines.

Stew. The Gods are witneſſe,
Neu'r did poore Steward weare a truer greeſe
For his vndone Lord, then mine eyes for you.

Tim. What, doſt thou weepe ?

Come neerer, then I loue thee

Because thou art a woman, and diſclaim'ſt

Flinty mankinde: whoſe eyes do neuer giue,

But thorow Luft and Laughter: pittie's ſleeping:

Strange times y' weepe with laughing, not with weeping.

Stew. I begge of you to know me, good my Lord,
I'ccept my greeſe, and whil'ſt this poore wealth laſts,
To entertaine me as your Steward ſtill.

Tim. Had I a Steward

So true, so iuſt, and now so comfortable?

It almoſt turnes my dangerous Nature wilde.

Let me behold thy face: Surely, this man
Was borne of woman.

Forgiue my generall, and exceptleſſe rathneſſe

You perpetuall ſober Gods. I do proclaime

One honeſt man : Miſtake me not, but one :

No more I pray, and hee's a Steward.

How faine would I haue hated all mankinde,
And thou redeem'ſt thy ſelfe. But all faue thee,
I ſell with Curſes.

Me thinkes thou art more honeſt now, then wife :

For, by oppreſſing and betraying mee,

Thou

Timon of Athens.

95

Thou mightst haue sooner got another Service:
For many fo arrive at second Masters,
Vpon their first Lords necke. But tell me true,
(For I must euer doubt, though ne're so sure)
Is not thy kindnesse subtle, couertous,
If not a Vfuring kindnesse, and as rich men deale Guiftes,
Expecting in returne twenty for one?

Stew. No my moft worthy Mafter,in whose breft
Doubt, and fulpeſt (alas) are plac'd too late:
You should haue fear'd falſe times, when you did Feaſt.
 fulpeſt fill comes, where an eſtate is leaſt.
That which I ſhew, Heauen knowes, is meerely Loue,
Dutie, and Zeale, to your vnmatched minde;
Care of your Food and Liuing, and beleeue it,
My moſt Honour'd Lord,
For any benefit that points to mee,
Either in hope, or preſent, I'd exchange
For this one wifh, that you had power and wealth
To requite me, by making rich your ſelfe.

Tim. Looke thee, 'tis so : thou singly honest man,
Heere take : the Gods out of my miferie
Ha's ſent thee Treſure. Go, liue rich and happy,
But thus condition'd : Thou halt build from men:
Hate all, curſe all, ſhew Chariity to none,
But let the famiſt fleſh slide from the Bone,
Ere thou releeue the Begger. Giue to dogges
What thou denyſt to men. Let Prifons ſwallow 'em,
Debts wither 'em to nothing, be men like blaſted woods
And may Difeaſes lice vp their falſe bloods,
And ſo farewell, and thrie.
Stew. O let me ſtay, and comfort you, my Maſter.

Tim. If thou hat't Curſes

Stay not : fly, while't thou art bleſt and free :
Ne're fee thou man, and let me ne're fee thee.

Exit

Enter Poet, and Painter.

Pain. As I tooke note of the place, it cannot be farre
where he abides.

Poet. What's to be thought of him ?
Does the Rumor hold for true,
That hee's ſo full of Gold?

Painter. Certaine.

Alebiades reports it : Phrinica and Timandylo
Had Gold of him. He likewise enrich'd
Poore ſtragling Souldiers, with great quantity.

'Tis ſaide, he gaue vnto his Steward
A mighty fumme.

Poet. Then this breaking of his,
Ha's beene but a Try for his Friends?

Painter. Nothing elfe :

You ſhall fee him a Palme in Athens againe;
And flourſh with the higheſt:
Therefore, 'tis not amife, we tender our loues
To him, in this ſuppos'd diſtreſſe of his :

It will ſhew honesely in vs,
And is very likely, to loade our purpofes
With what they trauaile for,
If it be a luſt and true report, that goes
Of his having.

Poet. What haue you now
To preſent ynto him?

Painte: Nothing at this time

But my Vifitation : onelie I will promife him
An excellent Peece.

Poet. I muſt ſerue him ſo too :

Tell him of an intent that's comming toward him.

Painter. Good as the beſt.

Promifing, is the verie Ayre o'th'Time;
It opens the eyes of Expeſtation.

Performance, is euer the duller for his aſte,
And but in the plainer and simpler kinde of people,
The deede of Saying is quite out of vſe.

To Promife, is moſt Courtly and fasſionable ;
Performance, is a kinde of Will or Teſtament
Which argues a great fickneſſe in his iudgement
That makes it.

Enter Timon from his Cane.

Timon. Excellent Wprkeman,
Thou canſt not paint a man ſo badde
As is thy ſelfe.

Po. I am thinking

What I ſhall ſay I haue prouided for him :
It muſt be a perſonating of him ſelfe :

A Satyre againſt the ſoftneſſe of Proſperity,
With a Diſcouerie of the infinite Flatteries
That follow youth and opulencie.

Timon. Muſt thou needes

Stand for a Villaine in thine owne Worke?

Wilt thou whip thine owne faults in other men?

Do ſo, I haue Gold for thee.

Poet. Nay let's ſeeke him.

Then do we finne againſt our owne eſtate,
When we may profit meete, and come too late.

Painter. True :

When the day ſerues before blaſſe-corner'd night;
Finde what thou want't, by free and offer'd light.
Come.

Tim. Ile meete you at the turne :

What a Gods Gold, that he is worſhipt
In a bafe Temple, then where Swine ſeede?

'Tis thou that riggt the Barke, and plow'ft the Fome,
Setleft admired reuerence in a Slaue,

To thee be worſhipt, and thy Saints for aye :

Be crown'd with Plagues, that thee alone obay.

Fit I meet them.

Poet. Haile worthy Timon.

Pain. Our late Noble Maſter.

Timon. Haue I once lin'd

To fee two hones ſt men?

Poet. Sir :

Hauing often of your open Bounty taſted,
Hearing you were rety't'd, your Friends falne off,
Whofe thankeleſſe Natures (O abhorred Spirits)
Not all the Whippes of Heauen, are large enough

What, to you,
Whofe Starre-like Noblenſe gaue life and influence

To their whole being ? I am rapt, and cannot couer

The monſtrous bulke of this Ingratitude
With any ſize of words.

Timon. Let it go,

Naked men may fee't the better :

You that are hones ſt, by being what you are,
Make them beſt ſeene, and knowne.

Pain. He, and my ſelfe

Haue trauail'd in the great ſhowre of your guifts,
And weeſtly felt it.

Timon. I, you are hones ſt man.

Painter. We are hither come

To offer you our ſeruice.

Timon. Moſt hones ſt men:

Why

["Timon of Athens.", "96", "Why how shall I requite you?", "Can you eate Roots, and drinke cold water, no?", "Both. What we can do,", "Weel do to do you feruice.", "Tim. Y'are honest men,", "Y haue heard that I haue Gold,", "I am iure you haue, fpeake truth, y'are honest men.", "Pain. So it is faid my Noble Lord, but therefore", "Came not my Friend, nor I.", "Timon. Good honest men: Thou draw'st a counterfeit", "Best in all Athens, th'art indeed the best,", "Thou counterfe't most liucly.", "Pain. So, so, my Lord.", "Tim. E'ne so fir as I fay. And for thy ſiſtion,", "Why thy Verſe ſwels with fluffe ſo fine and ſmooth,\nThat thou art euen Naturall in thine Art.", "But for all this (my honest Natur'd friends)", "I muſt needs ſay you haue a little ſault,", "Marry 'tis not monſtrous in you, neither with I", "You take much paines to mend.", "Both. Befeech your Honeur", "To make it knowne to vs.", "Tim. You'l take it ill.", "Both. Most thankfully, my Lord.", "Timon. Will you indeed ?", "Both. Doubt it not worthy Lord.", "Tim. There's neuer a one of you but truſts a Knaue,", "That mightily deceiues you.", "Both. Do we, my Lord?", "Tim. I, and you heare him cogge,", "See him diſſemble,", "Know his groſſe patchery, loue him, feede him,", "Keepe in your boſome, yet remaine affur'd", "That he's a made-vp-Villaine.", "Pain. I know none ſuch, my Lord.", "Poet. Nor I.", "Timon. Looke you,", "I loue you well, Ile giue you Gold", "Rid me theſe Villaines from your companies;", "Hang them, or ſtab them, droune them in a draught,", "Conſound them by ſome course, and come to me,", "Ile giue you Gold enough.", "4. Both. Name them my Lord, let's know them.", "Tim. You that way, and you this:", "But two in Company:", "Each man a part, all ſingle, and alone,", "Yet an arch Villaine keepes him company :", "If where thou art, two Villaines ſhall not be,", "Come not neere him. If thou would'ſt not recide", "But where one Villaine is, then him abandon.", "Hence, paſſe, there's Gold, you came for Gold ye ſlaues:", "You haue worke for me; there's payment, hence,", "You are an Alcuniſt, make Gold of that:", "Out Raſcal dogges.", "Exeunt", "Enter Steward, and two Senators.", "Stew. It is vaine that you would ſpeake with Timon:", "For he is ſet ſo onely to himſelfe,", "That nothing but himſelfe, which looks like man,", "Is friendly with him.", "1. Sen. Bring vs to his Caue.", "It is our part and promife to th'Athenians", "To ſpeake with Timon.", "2. Sex. At all times alike", "Men are not ſtill the fame: 'twas Time and Greeſes", "That fram'd him thus. Time with his fairer hand,\nOffering the Fortunes of his former dayes,\nThe former man may make him: bring vs to him\nAnd chanc'd it as it may.", "Stew. Heere is his Caue:", "Peace and content be heere. Lord Timon, Timon,", "Looke out, and ſpeake to Friends: Th'Athenians", "By two of their moſt reuerend Senate greet thee:", "Speake to them Noble Timon.", "Enter Timon out of his Caue.", "Tim. Thou Sunne that comforts burne,", "Speake and be hang'd:", "For each true word, a blifter, and each ſalſe", "Be as a Canherizing to the root o'th'Tongue,", "Conſuming it with ſpeaking.", "1 Worthy Timon.", "Tim. Of none but ſuch as you,\nAnd you of Timon.", "1 The Senators of Athens, greet thee Timon.", "Tim. I thanke them,", "And would ſend them baſſe the plague,", "Could I but catch it for them.", "1 O forget", "What we are forſory for our ſelues in thee:", "The Senators, with one ſentment of loue,", "Intreat thee baſſe to Athens, who haue thought", "On ſpeciall Dignities, which vacant lye", "For thy beſt vie and wearing.", "2 They confefſe", "Toward thee, forgetſulneſſe too generall groſſe;", "Which now the publike Body, which doth ſildome", "Play the re-canter, feeling in it ſelſe", "A lacke of Timons ayde, hath ſince withall", "Of it owne fall, reſtraining ayde to Timon,", "And ſend forth vs, to make their ſorrowed render,", "Together, with a recompence more fruitfulfull", "Then their offence can weigh downe by the Dramme,", "I euen ſuch heapes and ſummes of Loue and Wealth,", "As ſhall to thee blot out, what wrongs were theirs,", "And write in thee the figures of their loue,", "Euer to read them thine,", "Tim. You witch me in it;", "Surprize me to the very brinke of teares;", "Lend me a Fooles heart, and a womans eyes,", "And Ile beweep theſe comforts, worthy Senators.", "1 Therefore ſo pleafe thee to returne with vs,", "And of our Athens, thine and ours to take", "The Captainſhip, thou ſhalt be met with thanks,", "Allowed with abſolure power, and thy good name", "Liuie with Authorie: ſo ſoon we ſhall drive baſſe", "Of Alcibiades ch'approaches wild,", "Who like a Bore too ſauage, doth root vp", "His Countries peace.", "2 And ſhakes his threatening Sword", "Againſt the walles of Athens.", "1 Therefore Timon.", "Tim. Well fir, I will: therefore I will fir thus:\nIf Alcibiades kill my Countrymen,\nLet Alcibiades know this of Timon,", "That Timon cares not. But if he ſacke faire Athens,", "And take our goodly aged men by th'Beards,", "Giuing our holy Virgins to the ſtaine", "Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd warre:", "Then let him know, and tell him Timon ſpeakes it,", {"bbox": [1033, 1367, 1

Timon of Athens.

97

In pitty of our aged, and our youth,

I cannot choose but tell him that I care not,

And let him tak't at workt : For their Kniues care not,
While you haue throats to aufer. For my selfe,
There's not a whittle, in th'everuly Campe,
But I do prize it at my loue, before

The renerends Throats in Athens. So I leaue you
To the protection of the prosperous Gods,
As Thecues to Keepers.

Stew. Stay not, all's in vaine.

Tim. Why I was writing of my Epitaph,
It will be seene to morrow. My long sickneſſe
Of Health, and Liuing, now begins to mend,
And nothing brings me all things. Go, liue still,
Be Alcibiades your plagues you his,
And laſt so long enough.

I We speake in vaine.

Tim. But yet I loue my Country, and am not
One that reioyces in the common wracke,
As common bruite doth put it.

I That's well spokè.

Tim. Commend me to my loving Countreymen.

1 Thèſe words become your lippes as they paffe thow them.

2 And enter in our eares, like great Triumphers
In their applauding gates.

Tim. Commend me to them,
And tell them, that to eafe them of their greefe,
Their feares of Hoftile STrokes, their Aches loſſes,
Their pangs of Loue, with other incident throws
That Natures fragile Veffell doth ſuſtaine
In liſes vncertaine voyage, I will ſome kindpes do them,
Ile teach them to preuent wilde Alcibiades wrath.

I I like this well, he will returne againe.

Tim. I haue a Tree which growes heere in my Cloſe,
That mine owne vfe inuites me to cut downe,
And shortly muſt I fell it. Tell my Friends,
Tell Athens, in the ſequence of degree,
From high to low throughout, that who ſo pleafe
To ſtop Affiſtion, let him take his haſte;
Come hither ere my Tree hath felt the Axe,
And hang himſelfe. I pray you do my greeting.

Stew. Trouble him no further, thus you ſtill ſhall
Finde him.

Tim. Come not to me againe, but ſay to Athens,
Timon hath made his euerlaſting Manſion
Vpon the Beached Verge of the ſalt Flood,
Who once a day with his embosſed Froth
The turbulent Surge ſhall couer; thither come,
And let my graue-ſtone be your Oracle:
Lippes, let ſoure words go by; and Language end :
What is amiffle, Plague and Inſection mend.
Graues only be mens workes, and Death their gaine;
Sunne, hide thy Beames, Timon hath done his Raigne.

Exit Timon.

1 His discontents are vnremouably coupled to Na-
ture.

2 Our hope in him is dead: let vs returne,
And ſtraine what other meanes is left vs to
In our deere perill.

I It requires ſwife foot.

Exeunt.

Enter two other Senators, with a Messenger.

1 Thou haſt painfully discouer'd : are his Iles
As full as thy report?

Mef. I haue spokè the leaſt.

Befides his expedition promifes preſent approach.

2 We ſtand much hazard, if they bring not Timon.

Mef. I met a Currier, one mine ancient Friend,
Whom though in generall part we were oppos'd,
Yet our old loue made a particular force,
And made vs speake like Friends. This man was riding
From Alcibiades to Timons Cane,
With Letters of intreaty, which imported
His Fellowship i'th'caufe against your City,
In part for his lake mou'd.

Enter the other Senators.

1 Heere come our Brothers.

3 No talke of Timon, nothing of him expeſt,
The Enemies Drumme is heard, and fearefull ſcouring
Doth choake the ayre with duſt: In, and prepare,
Ours is the fall I feare, our Foes the Snare.

Exeunt.

Enter a Souldier in the Words seeking Timon.

Sol. By all deſcription this ſhould be the place.
Whose heere? Speake hoa. No anſwer? What is this?
Timon is dead, who hath our ſtretceth his ſpan,
Some Beaſt reade this; There do's not liue a Man.
Dead ſure, and this his Graue, what's on this Tomb,
I cannot read : the Charactèr Ile take with wax,
Our Captaine hath in every Figure's skill;
An ag'd Interpreter, though yong in dayes:
Before proud Athens hee's ſet downe by this,
Whose fall the marke of his Ambition is.

Exit.

Trumpets found. Enter Alcibiades with his Powers before Athens.

Alc. Sound to this Coward, and laſciuous Towne,
Our terrible approach.

Sounds a Parly.

The Senators appear upon the wals.

Till now you haue gone on, and fill'd the time
With all Licentious meaſure, making your willes
The ſcope of Inſtice. Till now, my ſelfe and ſuch
As ſlept within the ſhadow of your power
Haue wander'd with our trauerſt Armes, and breath'd
Our ſufferance vainly : Now the time is ſluff,
When crouching Marrow in the bearer ſtrong
Cries (of it ſelfe) no more: Now breathleſſe wrong,
Shall fit and pant in your great Chaires of caſe,
And purſue Inſolence ſhall breake his winde
With ſeare and horrid flight.

1. Sen. Noble, and young;
When thy firſt greeſes were but a meere conceit,
Ere thou had't power, or we had cauſe of ſeare,
We ſent to thee, to giue thy rages Balme,
To wipe out our Ingratitude, with Loues
Aboue their quantitie.

2 So did we wooe
Transformed Timon, to our Citieſs loue
By humble Meſtage, and by promiſt meanes :
We were not all vnkinde, nor all deferue
The common ſtroke of warre.
1 Theſe walles of ours,
Were not ereſed by their hands, from whom
You haue receu'd your greeſe: Nor are they ſuch,
That these great Towres, Tropehees, & Schools ſhould fall
For priuate faults in them.

2 Nor are they liuing

Who

Timon of Athens.

98

Who were the motives that you fit it went out,
(Shame that they wanted, cunning in exceffe)
Hath broke their hearts. March, Noble Lord,
Into our City with thy Banners spred,
By decimation and a tythed death;
If thy Reuenges hunger for that Food
Which Nature loathes, take thou the deftin'd tenth,
And by the hazard of the spotted dye,
Let dye the spotted.

1 All haue not offended:
For those that were, it is not square to take
On those that are, Reuenge: Crimes, like Lands
Are not inherited, then deere Countryman,
Bring in thy rankes, but leaue without thy rage,
Spare thy Athenian Cradle, and those Kin
Which in the bluster of thy wrath must fall
With those that haue offended, like a Shepheard,
Approach the Fold, and cull th'infected forth,
But kill nor altogether.

2 What thou wilt,
Thou rather shall inforce it with thy smile,
Then hew too't, with thy Sword.

1 Set but thy foot
Against our rampyr'd gates, and they shall ope:
So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before,
To say thou't enter Friendly.
2 Throw thy Gloue,
Or any Token of thine Honour else,
That thou wilt vse the warres as thy redresse,
And not as our Confusion: All thy Powers
Shall make their harbour in our Towne, till wee
Have feal'd thy full desire.

Alc. Then there's my Gloue,
Defend and open your vncharged Ports,

Thofe Enemies of Timons, and mine owne
Whom you your selues shall set out for reproofe,
Fall and no more; and to attone your fears
With my more Noble meaning, not a man
Shall paffe his quarter, or oftend the streame
Of Regular Iuſtice in your Cities bounds,
But ſhall be remedied to your publique Lawes
At heauieſt anſwer.

Both. 'Tis moſt Nobly ſpoken.

Alc. Deſcend, and keepe your words.

Enter a Messenger.

Mef. My Noble Generall, Timon is dead,
Entomb'd vpon the very hemme o'th'Sea,
And on his Graueſtone, this Inſculpture which
With wax I brought away: whose soft Impreſſion
Interprets for my poore Ignorance.

Alcibiades reades the Epitaph.

Heere lies a wretched Carre, of wretched Soule bereſt,
Seek not my name: A Plague confume you, wicked Catiſe left!
Heere lies I Timon, who alive, all living men did hate,
Paffe by, and curſe thy fill, but paffe and ſt not here thy gate.
These well expreſſe in thee thy latter ſpirits:
Though thou abhorr'd in vs our humane griefes,
Scorrd in our Braines flow, and those our droplets, which
From niggard Nature fall; yet Rich Conceit
Taught thee to make vart Neptune weepe for aye
On thy low Graue, on faults forgien. Dead
Is Noble Timon, of whose Memorie
Heereafter more. Bring me into your Citie,
And I will vſe the Oliue, with my Sword:
Make war breed peace; make peace flint war, make each
Prefcribe to other, as each others Leach.
Let our Drummes ſtrike.

Exeunt.

FINIS.

THE
ACTORS
NAMES.

YMON of Athens.
Lucius, And
Lucullus, two Flattering Lords.

Appemantus, a Churlish Philosopher.

Sempronius another flattering Lord.

Alcibiades, an Athenian Captaine.

Poet.

Painter.

Jeweller.

Merchant.

Certaine Senatours.

Certaine Maskers.

Certaine Theeues.

Flaminius, one of Tymons Seruants.
Seruilius, another.

Caphis.

Varro.

Philo.

Titus.

Lucius.

Hortenfis

Ventigius, one of Tymons false Friends.

Cupid.

Sempronius.

With diuers other Seruants,
And Attendants.

Seuerall Seruants to Vfurers.

THE TRAGEDIE OF
IVLIVS CÆSAR.

Actus Primus. Scæna Prima.

Enter Flauimus, Murellus, and certaine Commoners
ouer the Stage.

Flauimus.

Hence: home you idle Creatures, get you home:
Is this a Holiday? What, know you not
(Being Mechanicall) you ought not walke
Vpon a labouring day, without the figne
Of your Profession? Speake, what Trade art thou?

Car. Why Sir, a Carpenter.

Mur. Where is thy Leather Apron, and thy Rule?
What doth thou with thy beſt Apparell on?
You fir, what Trade are you?

Cobl. Truzly Sir, in reſpect of a fine Workman, I am
but as you would ſay, a Cobler.

Mur. But what Trade art thou? Anſwer me directly.

Cob. A Trade Sir, that I hope I may viſe, with a ſafe
Conſcience, which is indeed Sir, a Mender of bad ſoules.

Fla. What Trade thou knaue? Thou naughty knaue,
what Trade?
Cobl. Nay I beſeech you Sir, be not out with me: yet
if you be out Sir, I can mend you.

Mur. What mean ſt thou by that? Mend mee, thou
ſawcy Fellow?

Cob. Why fir, Cobble you.

Fla. Thou art a Cobler, art thou?

Cob. Truly fir, all that I line by, is with the Aule: I
meddle with no Trademans matters, nor womens mat-
ters; but withal I am indeed Sir, a Surgeon to old ſhooes:
when they are in great danger, I recouer them. As pre-
per men as euer trod vpon Neats Leather, haue gone vp-
on my handy- worke.

Fla. But wherefore art not in thy Shop to day?
Why doſt thou leade these men about the streets?

Cob. Truly fir, to weare out their ſhooes, to get my
ſelfe into more worke. But indeede fir, we make Holy-
day to fee Caſar, and to reioyce in his Triumph.

Mur. Wherefore reioyce?

What Conqueſt brings he home?
What Tributaries follow him to Rome,
To grace in Capriue bonds his Chariot Wheeles?
You Blockes, you ſtones, you worſe then ſenſſle things:
O you hard hearts, you cruell men of Rome,
Knew you not Pompey many a time and oft?
Haue you climb'd vp to Walles and Battlements,
To Towres and Windows? Yea, to Chimney tops,
Your Infantes in your Armes, and there haue late
The line-long day, with patient expectation,

To fee great Pompey paffe the streets of Rome:
And when you ſaw his Chariot but appeare,
Haue you not made an Vniuerſall flout,
That Tyber trembled vnderneath her bankes
To heare the replication of your ſounds,
Made in her Concaue Shores?

And do you now put on your beſt attyre?
And do you now cull out a Holyday?

And do you now ſtrew Flowers in his way,
That comes in Triumph ouer Pompeyes blood?
Be gone,
Runne to your houſes, fall vpon your knees,
Pray to the Gods to intermit the plague
That needs muſt light on this Ingratitude.

Fla. Go, go, good Countrymen, and for this ſault
Aſſemble all the poore men of your fort;
Draw them to Tyber bankes, and weepe your teares
Into the Channell, till the lowe ſtreame
Do kiffe the moſt exalted Shores of all,

Exeunt all the Commoners.

See where their bafeſt mettle be not mou'd,  
They vanifh tongue-tyed in their guiltineſſe:  
Go you downe that way towards the Capitoll,  
This way will I: Difrobe the Images,  
If you do finde them deckt with Ceremonies.

Mur. May we do so?

You know it is the Feaſt of Lupercali.

Fla. It is no matter, let no Images
Be hung with Caſars Tophees: Ile about,
And drue away the Vulgar from the streets;
So do you too, where you perceiue them thicke.
The ſe growing Feathers, pluckt from Caſars wing,
Will make him flye an ordinary pitch.

Who eſſe would ſoare about the view of men,
And keepe vs all in ſeruile ſeaſureneſſe.

Exeunt

Enter Caſar, Antony, for the Courſe, Calphurnia, Portia, De-
cius, Cicero, Brutus, Caſimus, Caska, a Soothſayer: after
them Murellus and Flauimus.

Caſ. Calphurnia.

Cask. Peace, ho, Caſar! ſpeakes.

Caſ. Calphurnia.

Calp. Heere my Lord.

Caſ. Stand you directly in Antonio's way,
When he doth run his courſe. Antonio.

Ant. Caſar, my Lord.

Caſ. Forget not in your ſpeed Antonio,

To touch Calphurnia: for our Elders ſay,

k k

The

110

The Tragedie of Julius Cæsar.

The Barren touched in this holy chace,
Shake off their ferrile curfe.

Ant. I shall remember,

When Cæsar fayes, Do this; it is perform'd.

Cæs. Set on, and leaue no Ceremony out.

Sooth. Cæsar.

Cæs. Ha? Who calles?

Cask. Bid every noyfe be still: peace yet againe.

Cæs. Who is it in the preſſe, that calles on me?

I heare a Tongue ſtriller then all the Muficke
Cry, Cæsar: ſpeak, Cæsar is turn'd to heare.

Sooth. Beware the Ides of March.

Cæs. What man is that?

Br. A Sooth-fayer bids you beware the Ides of March

Cæs. Set him before me, let me fee his face.

Caffi. Fellow, come from the throng, look vpon Cæsar.

Cæs. What layt thou to me now? Speak once againe.

Cæs. He is a Dreamer, let vs leaue him: Paffe.

Sennet. Exeunt. Manet Brut, & Caff.

Caffi. Will you go fee the order of the course?

Brut. Not I.

Caffi. I pray you do.

Brut. I am not Gameſom: I do lacke ſome part

Of that quicke Spirit that is in Antony :

Let me not hinder Caffius your desires ;

Ile leaue you.

Caffi. Brutus, I do obſerue you now of late :

I haue not from your eyes, that gentlenesse

And ſhew of Loue, as I was wont to haue :

You beare too flubborne, and too ſtrange a hand
Ouer your Friend, that loues you.

Bru. Caffius,

Be not deceu'd: If I haue veyl'd my leake,

I turne the trouble of my Countenance

Merely vpon my ſelfe. Vexed I am

Of late, with paffions of ſome difference,

Conceptions only proper to my ſelfe,

Which giue ſome ſoyle (perhaps) to my Behauiours :

But let not therefore my good Friends be green'd
(Among which number Caffius be you one)

Nor conſtue any further my negleſt,

Then that poore Brutus with him ſelfe at warre,

Forgets the ſhewes of Loue to other men.

Caffi. Then Brutus, I haue much miſtook your paffion,
By meanes whereof, this Breſt of mine hath buried
Thoughts of great value, worthy Cogitations.

Tell me good Brutus, Can you fee your face?

Brutus. No Caffius :

For the eye fees not it ſelfe but by reflection,

By ſome other things,

Caffius. 'Tis juſt,

And, it is very much lamented Brutus,

That you haue no ſuch Mirrors, as will turne

Your hidden worthinesſe into your eye,

That you might fee your shadow :

I haue heard,

Where many of the beſt reſpect in Rome,

(Except immortall Cæsar) ſpeaking of Brutus,

And groaning vnderneath this Ages yoake,

Have wifd'd, that Noble Brutus had his eyes.

Bru. Into what dangers, would you

Leade me Caffius?

That you would haue me feeke into my ſelfe,

For that which is not in me?

Cæs. Therefore good Brutus, be prepar'd to heare:

And ſince you know, you cannot fee your ſelfe

So well as by Reſlection; I your Glafle,

Will mod ſeſtly diſcouer to your ſelfe

That of your ſelfe, which you yet know not of.

And be not ialous on me, gentle Brutus :

Were I a common Laughter, or did ſe

To ſtale with ordinary Oathes my loue

To every new Proteſter: if you know,

That I do fawne on innen, and hugge them hard,

And after ſcandall them : Or if you know,

That I proſſeſſe my ſelfe in Banquetting

To all the Rout, then hold me dangerous,

Flourish, and Shout.

Bru. What meanes this Showring?

I do ſeare, the People choose Cæsar

For their King.

Caffi. I, do you ſeare it?

Then muſt I thinke you would not haue it ſo,

Bru. I would not Caffius, yet I loue him well:
But wherefore do you hold me heere ſo long?

What is it, that you would impart to me?

If it be ought toward the generall good,

Set Honor in one eye, and Death i'th other,

And I will looke on both indifferently :

For let the Gods ſo ſpeed mee, as I loue

The name of Honor, more then I ſeare death.

Caffi. I know that vertue to be in you Brutus,
As well as I do know your outward ſaunce,
Well, Honor is the ſubieſt of my Story :
I cannot tell, what you and other men
Thinke of this life : But for my single ſelfe,
I had as liefe not be, as liue to be,
In awe of ſuch a Thing, as I my ſelfe.
I was borne free as Cæsar, ſo were you,
We both haue ſed as well, and we can both
Endure the Winters cold, as well as hec.
For once, vpon a Rawe and Guſtie day,
The troubled Tyber, chafing with her Shores,
Cæsar ſaide to me, Dar't thou Caffius now
Leape in with me into this angry Flood,
And ſwim to yonder Point ? Upon the word,
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,
And bad him follow : ſo indeed he did.
The Torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it
With lufty Sinewes, throwing it aſide,
And Remming it with hearts of Controuerſe,
But ere we could arriue the Point propos'd,
Cæsar cride, Helpe me Caffius, or I ſinke.

I (as Æneas, our great Anceſtor,

Did from the Flames of Troy, vpon his shoulduer
The old Anchises beare) ſo, from the waues of Tyber

Did I the tyred Cæsar : And this Man,

Is now become a God, and Caffius is

A wretched Creature, and muſt bend his body,
If Cæsar careleſtly but nod on him.

He had a Feaer when he was in Spaine,

And when the Fit was on him, I did marke

How he did ſake: Tis true, this God did ſake,

His Coward lippes did from their colour ſlye,

And that fame Eye, whose bend doth awe the World,

Did loose his Lufſire: I did heare him grone :

I, and that Tongue of his, that bad the Romans,

Marke him, and write his Speeches in their Bookes,

Alas, it cried, Giue me ſome drinke Titinius!

As

The Tragedie of Julius Cæsar.

III

As a fickle Girl: Ye Gods, it doth amaze me,
A man of such a feeble temper should
So get the flart of the Maiesticke world,
And beare the Palme alone.

Shout.

Flourish.

Bru. Another generall fhout?
I do beleeue, that these appaufes are
For some new Honors, that are heap'd on Cæsar.

Caffi. Why man, he doth befride the narrow world
Like a Colofus, and we petty men
Walke vnder his huge legges, and peepe about
To finde our selues diſhonourable Graues.
Men at fometime, are Mafters of their Fates.
The fault (deere Brutus) is not in our Starres,
But in our Selues, that we are vnderlings.
Brutus and Cæsar: What should be in that Cæsar?

Why should that name be founded more then yours :
Write them together : Yours, is as faire a Name :
Sound them, it doth become the mouth ofwell :
Weigh them, it is as heavy : Coniure with 'em,
Brutus will flart a Spirit as Sloone as Cæsar.
Now in the names of all the Gods at once,
Vpon what meate, doth this our Cæsar feede,
That he is growne ſo great? Age, thou art ſham'd.
Rome, thou haft loft the breed of Noble Bloods.
When went there by an Age, ſince the great Flood,
But it was fam'd with more then with one man?
When could they ſay (till now) that talk'd of Rome,
That her wide Walkes incompaft but one man?
Now is it Rome indeed, and Rome enough
When there is in it but one onely man.
O you and I, haue heard our Fathers ſay,
There was a Brutus once, that would haue brook'd
T'eternall Diuell to keepe his State in Rome,
As eafily as a King.

Bru. That you do loue me, I am nothing icalous:
What you would worke me too, I haue fome ayme:
How I haue thought of this, and of these times
I fhall recount hereafter. For this prefent,
I would not ſo (with loue I might intreat you)
Be any further moou'd: What you haue ſaid,
I will confider: what you haue to ſay
I will with patience heare, and finde a time
Both meete to heare, and anſwer ſuch high things.
Till then, my Noble Friend, chew vpon this :
Brutus had rather be a Villager,
Then to repute himſelfe a Sonne of Rome
Under these hard Conditions, as this time
Is like to lay vpon vs.

Caffi. I am glad that my weake words
Hae strucke but thus much ſhew of fire from Brutus.

Enter Cæsar and his Traine.

Bru. The Games are done,
And Cæsar is returning.

Caffi. As they paffe by,
Plucke Caska by the Sleeue,
And he will (after his lowre ſashion) tell you
What hath proceeded worthy note to day:
Bri. I will do ſo: but looke you Caffius,
The angry ſpot doth glow on Cæsar's brow,
And all the reſts looke like a chidden Traine;
Calphurnia's Cheeke is pale, and Cicero
Lookes with ſuch Ferret, and ſuch fiery eyes
As we haue feene him in the Capitoll

Being croſt in Conference, by ſome Senators,
Caffi. Caska will tell vs what the matter is.

Cæs. Antonio.

Ant. Cæsar.

Cæs. Let me haue men about me, that are fat,
Sleeke-headed men, and such as sleepe a-nights :
Yond Caffius has a leane and hungry looke,
He thinkes too much: ſuch men are dangerous.

Ant. Feare him not Cæsar, he's not dangerous,
He is a Noble Roman, and well giuen.

Cæs. Would he were fatter; But I feare him not:
Yet it my name were lyable to feare,
I do not know the man I should auoyd,
So ſoone as that ſpare Caffius. He reades much,
He is a great Obieruer, and he looks
Quite through the Deeds of men. He loues no Playes,

As thou doſt Antony: he heares no Muficke;
Seldome he ſmiles, and ſmiles in ſuch a ſort.

As if he mock'd himſelfe, and ſcorn'd his ſpirit
That could be mou'd to ſmile at any thing.

Such men as he, be neuer at hearts caſe,
Whiles they behold a greater then them ſelues,
And therefore are they very dangerous.

I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd,
Then what I feare: for always I am Cæsar.
Come on my right hand, for this eare is deafe,

And I tell me truely, what thou think'st of him.

Exenunt Cæsar and his Traine.

Caska. You pul'd me by the cloake, would you ſpeake
with me?

Bri. I Caska, tell vs what hath chanc'd to day
That Cæsar looks ſo fad.

Cask. Why you were with him, were you not?

Bri. I should not then ask: Caska what had chanc'd.

Cask. Why there was a Crowne offer'd him; & being
offer'd him, he put it by with the backe of his hand thus,
and then the people fell a fhouting.

Bri. What was the ſecond noyſe for?

Cask. Why for that too,

Caffi. They flouted thrice: what was the laſt cry for?

Cask. Why for that too.

Bri. Was the Crowne offer'd him thrice?

Cask. I marry was't, and hee put it by thrice, euerie
time gentler then other; and at euery putting by, mine
honet Neighbors ſhowtied.

Caffi. Who offer'd him the Crowne?

Cask. Why Antony.

Bri. Tell vs the manner of it, gentle Caska.

Caska. I can as well bee hang'd as tell the manner of
it: It was meere Foolerie, I did not market it. I fawe
Marke Antony offer him a Crowne, yet 'twas not a
Crowne neyther, 'twas one of theſe Coronets : and as I
told you, hee put it by once: but for all that, to my thin-
king, he would faine haue had it. Then hee offer'd it to
him againe: then hee put it by againe: but to my think-
ing, he was very loath to lay his fingers off it. And then
he offer'd it the third time; hee put it the third time by,
and fill as hee refus'd it, the rabblement howtéd, and
clapp'd their chopt hands, and threw vp their Sweatie
Night-cappes, and vttered ſuch a deale of flinking
breath, because Cæsar refus'd the Crowne, that it had
(almoſt) choaked Cæsar: for hee ſwoonded, and ſell
downe at it: And for mine owne part, I durſt not laugh,
for ſeare of opening my Lippes, and recreying the bad
Ayre.

kk 2

Caffi.

The Tragedie of Julius Cæsar.

II2

Cæsar. But for I pray you: what, did Cæsar I wound?
Cask. He fell downe in the Market-place, and foam'd
at mouth, and was speechleff.

Brut. Is very like he hath the Falling fickleneſſe.

Caffi. No, Cæsar, hath it not? but you, and I,

And honest Caska, we have the Failing fickleneſſe.

Cask. I know not what you meane by that, but I am
fate Cæsar fell downe. If the tag-ragge people did not
clap him, and misſe him, according as he pleas'd, and dif-
pleas'd them, as they vſe to do the Players in the Thea-
tre, I am no true man.

Brut. What faid he, when he came vnto himselfe?

Cask. Marry, before he fell downe, when he percei'd
the common Heard was glad he refus'd the Crowne, he
pluckt me ope his Doublet; and offer'd them his Throat
to cut: and I had beene a man of any Occupation, if I
would not haue taken him at a word, I would I might
goe to Hell among the Rogues, and so hee fell. When
he came to himselfe againe, hee faid, If hee had done, or
faid any thing amifle, he deſit'd their Worſhips to thinke
it was his infirmitie. Three or ſoure Wenches where I
ſlood, cryed, Alasſe good Soule, and forgaue him with
all their hearts: But there's no heed to be taken of them:
if Cæsar had ſtab'd their Mothers, they would haue done
no leſſe.

Brut. And after that, he came thus ſad away.

Cask. I.

Caffi. Did Cicero ſay any thing ?

Cask. I, he ſpoke Greeke.

Caffi. To what effect ?

Cask. Nay, and I tell you that, Ile ne're looke you
i'th' face againe. But that vnderſtood him, ſmild
at one another, and ſhooke their heads: but for mine
owne part, it was Greeke to me. I could tell you more
newes too: *Murrellus* and *Flanius*, for pulling Scarffes
off *Cæsars* Images, are put to ſilence.* Fare you well.
There was more Pooſerie yet, if I could remem-
ber it.

Caffi. Will you ſuppe with me to Night, Caska?

Cask. No, I am promis'd forth.

Caffi. Will you Dine with me to morrow?

Cask. I, if I be aliue, and your minde hold, and your

Dinner worth the eating.

Caffi. Good, I will expect you.

Cask. Do ſo: farewell both.

Exit.

Brut. What a blunt fellow is this growne to be ?

He was quick Mettle, when he went to Schoole.

Caffi. So is he now, in execution

Of any bold, or Noble Enterprize,

How-euer he puts on this tardiſe forme:

This Ruedenſeſſe is a Sawce to his good Wit,

Which giues men ſtomacke to diſeſt his words

With better Appetite.

Brut. And for it is:

For this time I will leaue you:

To morrow, if you please to ſpeak with me,

I will come home to you: or if you will,

Come home to me, and I will wait for you.

Caffi. I will doe ſo: till then, thinke of the World,
Exit Brutus.

Well Brutus, thou art Noble: yet I fee,

Thy Honorable Mettle may be wrought

From that it is diſpo'd: therefore it is meer,

That Noble minde keepe euer with their likes :

For who so firme, that cannot be ſeduc'd?

Cæsar doth beare me hard, but he loues Brutus.

If I were *Brutus* now, and he were *Caffius*,
He should not humor me. I will this Night,
In feuerall Hands, in his Windows throw,
As if they came from ſeuerall Citizens,
Writings, all tending to the great opinion

That Rome holds of his Name : wherein obſurely
*Cæsars* Ambition shall be glanced at.

And after this, let Cæsar ſeat him ſure,
For wee will shake him, or worſe dayes endure.

Exit.

Thunder, and Lightning. Enter Caska,
and Cicero.

Cic. Good euen, Caska: brought you Cæsar home?
Why are you breathleſſe, and why ſtare you ſo ?

Cask. Are not you mou'd, when all the ſway of Earth
Shakes, like a thing vnfirme ? O Cicero,
I haue ſeene Tempeſts, when the ſcolding Winds
Hae riu'd the knottie Oakes, and I haue ſeene
Th'ambitious Ocean ſwell, and rage, and foame,
To be exalted with the threatening Clouds:
But neuer till to Night, neuer till now,
Did I goe through a Tempeſt-dropping-fire,
Eyther there is a Ciuill ſtrife in Heauen,
Or else the World, too ſawcie with the Gods,
Incenses them to ſend deſtruction.

Cic. Why, ſaw you any thing more wonderful?

Cask. A common ſlauſe, you know him well by ſight,
Held vp his left Hand, which did flame and burne
Like twentie Torches ioyn'd; and yet his Hand,
Not ſenſible of fire, remain'd vnſorch'd,
Befides, I ha'n't ſince put vp my Sword,
Against the Capitoll I met a Lyon,

Who glaz'd upon me, and went furly by,
Without annoying me. And there were drawne
Vpon a heape, a hundred gaffly Women,
Transformed with their ſeare, who ſwore, they ſaw
Men, all in fire, walke vp and downe the freetees.

And yeferday, the Bird of Night did fit,
Euen at Noone-day, upon the Market place,
Howtling, and shreeling. When the ſteadies Prodigies
Doe ſo conioyntly meet, let not men ſay,

Thee are their Reaſons, they are Naturall:
For I beleeue, they are porrentous things

Vnto the Clymate, that they point vpon.

Cic. Indeed, it is a ſtrange diſpoſed time:
But men may conſtrue things after their ſaſhion,
Cleane from the purpose of the things themselves,
Comes Cæsar to the Capitoll to morrow?

Cask. He doth: for he did bid Antonio

Send word to you, he would be there to morrow.

Cic. Good-night then, Caska:

This disturbed Skie is not to walke in.

Cask. Farewell Cicero.

Exit Cicero.

Enter Caffius.

Caffi. Who's there ?

Cask. A Romane.

Caffi. Caska, by your Voyce.

Cask. Your Eare is good.

Caffius, what Night is this?

Caffi. A very pleasing Night to honest men.

Cask. Who euer knew the Heauens menace ſo ?

Caffi. Thoſe that haue knowne the Earth ſo full of
faults.

The Tragedie of Julius Cæsar.

For my part, I haue walk'd about the streets,
Submitting me vnto the perilous Night;
And thus vnbraced, Caska, as you see,
Hae bar'd my Bolome to the Thunder-flone:
And when the croſſe blew Lightning ſeen't to open
The Breſt of Heauen, I did preſent my ſelfe
Euen in the ayme, and very ſlαſh of it.
(uens ?

Cask. But wherefore did you so much tempt the Hea-
It is the part of men, to ſeare and tremble,
When the moſt mightie Gods, by tokens ſend
Such dreadfull Heraulds, to aſtoniſh vs.

Caffi. You are dull, Caska:
And those ſparkes of Life, that should be in a Roman,
You doe want, or else you vſe not.
You looke pale, and gaze, and put on ſeare,
And caſt your ſelfe in wonder,
To fee the ſtrange impatience of the Heauens:
But if you would ſonider the true cauſe,
Why all theſe Fires, why all theſe gliding Ghoſts,
Why Birds and Beaſs, from qualitie and kinde,
Why Old men, Fooles, and Children calculate,
Why all theſe things change from their Ordinance,
Their Natures, and pre-formed Faculties,
To monſtrous qualitie; why you ſhall finde,
That Heauen hath inſuſ'd them with theſe Spirits,
To make them Inſtruments of ſeare, and warning,
Vnto ſome monſtrous State.
Now could I (Caska) name to thee a man,
Moſt like this dreadfull Night,
That Thunders, Lightens, opens Graues, and roares,
As doth the Lyon in the Capitoll:
A man no mightier then thy ſelfe, or me,
In ſonſonall action; yet ſo diſigious growne,
And ſearefull, as the ſtrange eruptions are.

Cask. 'Tis Cæsar that you meane:
Is it not, Caffius?

Caffi. Let it be who it is : for Romans now
Hae Thewes, and Limbes, like to their Anceſtors;
But woe the while, our Fathers mindes are dead,
And we are gouern'd with our Mothers ſpirits,
Our yoake, and ſufferance, ſhew vs Womaniſh.

Cask. Indeed, they ſay, the Senators to morrow
Meane to eſtablish Cæsar as a King:
And he ſhall weare his Crowne by Sea, and Land,
In euery place, ſaue here in Italy.

Caffius. I know where I will weare this Dagger then;
Caffius from Bondage will deliuer Caffius:
Therein, yee Gods, you make the weake moſt strong;
Therein, yee Gods, you Tyrants doe defeat.
Nor Stonie Tower, nor Walls of beaten Braſſe,
Nor ayre-leſſe Dungeon, nor ſtrong Linkes of Iron,
Can be retentive to the strength of ſpirit:
But Life being wearie of theſe worldly Barres,
Neuer lacks power to diſmiffe it ſelfe.
If I know this, know all the World besides,
That part of Tyrannie that I doe beare,
I can ſhake off at pleasure.
Thunder still.

Cask. So can I:
So euery Bond-man in his owne hand beares
The power to cancell his Captiuitie.

Caffi. And why should Cæsar be a Tyrant then?
Poor man, I know he would not be a Wolfe,
But that he ſees the Romans are but Sheep:
He were no Lyon, were not Romans Hindes.
Thofe that with haſte will make a mightie fire,
Begin it with weake Strawes. What traſſh is Rome?

What Rubbiſh, and what Offall? when it ſerues
For the baſe matter, to illuminate
So vile a thing as Cæsar. But oh Grieſe,
Where haſt thou led me? I (perhaps) ſpeake this
Before a willing Bond-man: then I know
My anſwere muſt be made. But I am arm'd,
And dangers are to me indifferent.

Cask. You ſpeake to Caska, and to ſuch a man,
That is no ſlearing Tell-tale. Hold, my Hand:
Be factious for redreſſe of all theſe Grieſes,
And I will ſet this foot of mine as farre,
As who goes fartheſt.

Caffi. There's a Bargaine made.
Now know you, Caska, I haue mou'd already
Some certaine of the Nobleft minded Romans
To vnder-goe, with me, an Enterprize,
Of Honorable dangerous conſequence;
And I doe know by this, they ſay for me
In Pompeyes Porch : for now this ſearefull Night,
There is no ſtirre, or walking in the streetes;
And the Complexion of the Element
Is Fauors, like the Worke we have in hand,
Moſt bloodie, fierie, and moſt terrible.

Enter Cinna.

Caska. Stand close a while; for heere comes one in haſte.

Caffi. 'Tis Cinna, I doe know him by his Gate,
He is a friend. Cinna, where haſte you to?

Cinna. To finde out you : Who's that, Metellus
Cymber ?

Caffi. No, it is Caska, one incorporate
To our Attempts. Am I not ſtay'd for, Cinna?

Cinna. I am glad on't.
What a ſearefull Night is this?
There's two or three of vs haue ſeene ſtrange ſights.
Caffi. Am I not ſtay'd for ? tell me.
Cinna. Yes, you are. O Caffius!

If you could but winne the Noble Brutus.

To our party—

Caffi. Be you content. Good Cinna, take this Paper,
And looke you lay it in the Pretors Chayre,
Where Brutus may but finde it : and throw this
In at his Window; ſet this vp with Waxe
Vpon old Brutus Statue: all this done,
Repaire to Pompeyes Porch, where you ſhall finde vs.
Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there?

Cinna. All, but Metellus Cymber, and hee's gone
To ſeeke you at your houſe. Well, I will hie,
And so beſtow theſe Papers as you bad me.

Caffi. That done, repayre to Pompeyes Theater.
Exit Cinna.

Come Caska, you and I will yet, ere day,
See Brutus at his houſe : three parts of him
Is ours already, and the man entire
Vpon the next encounter, yeelds him ours.

Cask. O, he fits high in all the Peoples hearts:
And that which would appeare Offence in vs,
His Countenance, like richeſt Alchymie,
Will change to Vertue, and to Worthineſſe.

Caffi. Him, and his worth, and our great need of him,
You haue right well conceited: let vs goe,
For it is after Mid-night, and ere day,
We will awake him, and be ſure of him.

Exeunt.

Act two.

kk 3

The Tragedie of Julius Caesar.

Actus Secundus.

Enter Brutus in his Orchard.

Brut. What Lucius, hoe?
I cannot, by the progreſſe of the Starres,
Gue gueſſe how neere to day--Lucius, I lay?
I would it were my fault to ſleep ſo foundly.
When Lucius, when? awake, I lay: what Lucius?

Enter Lucius.

Luc. Call'd you, my Lord?
Brut. Get me a Tapor in my Study, Lucius:
When it is lighted, come and call me here.

Luc. I will, my Lord.
Exit.
Brut. It must be by his death : and for my part,
I know no perſonall caufe, to ſpurme at him,
But for the generall. He would be crown'd:
How that might change his nature, there's the queſtion?
It is the bright day, that brings forth the Adder,
And that craues warie walking: Crowne him that,
And then I graunt we put a Sting in him,
That at his will he may doe danger with.
Th'abuse of Greatneſſe, is, when it dis-ioynes
Remorſe from Power : And to ſpeake truth of Caſar,
I haue not knowne, when his Aſfections ſway'd
More then his Reaſon. But'tis a common proofe,
That Lowlyneſſe is young Ambitions Ladder,
Whereunto the Climber vpward turnes his Face:
But when he once attaines the vpmoft Round,
He then vnto the Ladder turnes his Backe,
Lookes in the Clouds, ſcorming the bafe degrees
By which he did ascend : fo Caſar may;
Then leaſt he may, preuent. And ſince the Quarrell
Will beare no colour, for the thing he is,
Fashions it thus; that what he is, augmented,
Would runde to theſe, and theſe extremities :
And therefore thinke him as a Serpents egge,
Which hatch'd, would as his kinde grow miſchieuous;
And kill him in the ſhell.

Enter Lucius.

Luc. The Taper burneth in your Cloſet, Sir:
Searching the Window for a Flint, I found
This Paper, thus ſeaſ'd vp, and I am ſure
It did not lye there when I went to Bed.

Gines him the Letter.

Brut. Get you to Bed againe, it is not day:
Is not to morrow (Boy) the firſt of March?

Luc. I know not, Sir.

Brut. Looke in the Calender, and bring me word.

Luc. I will, Sir.
Exit.
Brut. The exhalations, whizzing in the ayre,
Giuſe ſo much light, that I may reade by them.

Opens the Letter, and reades.

Brutus thou ſleep'st; awake, and ſee thy ſelfe:
Shall Rome, &c. ſpeake, ſtrike, redresse.
Brutus, thou ſleep'st: awake.
Such inſtigations haue beene often dropt,
Where I haue tooke them vp:
Shall Rome, &c. Thus muſt I piece it out:
Shall Rome ſtand vnder one mans awe? What Rome?
My Anceſtors did from the ſtreetes of Rome
The Tarquin druiſe, when he was call'd a King.
Speake, ſtrike, redresse. Am I entreated

To ſpeake, and ſtrike? O Rome, I make thee promise,
If the redresse will follow, thou receiueſt
Thy full Petition at the hand of Brutus.

Enter Lucius.

Luc. Sir, March is wafsted fifteene dayes.

Knocke within.

Brut. 'Tis good. Go to the Gate, some body knockes:
Since Caffius firſt did whet me against Caſar,
I haue not ſlept.

Betweene the acting of a dreadfull thing,
And the firſt motion, all the Interim is
Like a Phantasma, or a hideous Dreame :
The Genius, and the mortall Inſtruments
Are then in councell; and the ſtate of a man,
Like to a little King dome, ſuffers then
The nature of an Inſurrection.

Enter Lucius.

Luc. Sir, 'tis your Brother Caffius at the Doore,
Who doth desire to see you.

Brut. Is he alone?

Luc. No, Sir, there are moe with him.

Brut. Doe you know them?

Luc. No, Sir, their Hats are pluckt about their Eares,
And halſe their Faces buried in their Cloakes,
That by no meanes I may disſouer them,
By any marke of fauour.

Brut. Let 'em enter:
They are the Faſtion. O Conſpiracie,
Sham'ſt thou to ſhew thy dang'rous Brow by Night,
When enuils are moſt free? O then, by day
Where wilth thou finde a Cauerne darke enough,
To maske thy monſtrous Viſage? Seek none Conſpiracie,
Hide it in Smiles, and Aſſabilicte:
For if thou path thy native ſemblance on,
Not Erebus his ſelfe were dimme enough,
To hide theſe from preuention.

Enter the Conſpirators, Caffius, Caska, Decius,
Cinna, Metellus, and Trebonius.

Caff. I thinke we are too bold vpon your Reſt:
Good morrow Brutus, doe we trouble you?

Brut. I haue beene vp this howre, awake all Night:
Know I theſe men that come along with you?

Caff. Yes, euery man of them; and no man here
But honors you: and euery one doth wifh,
You had but that opinion of your ſelfe,
Which euery Noble Roman beares of you,

This is Trebonius.

Brut. He is welcome hither.

Caff. This, Decius Brutus.

Brut. He is welcome too.

Caff. This, Caska; this, Cinna; and this, Metellus
Cymber.

Brut. They are all welcome.
What watchfull Cares doe interpoſe themſelues

Betwixt your Eyes, and Night?

Caff. Shall I entreat a word? They whiſper.
Decius. Here lyes the Eaſt: doth not the Day breake
here?

Caff. No.

Cin. Opardon, Sir, it doth; and yon grey Lines,
That fret the Clouds, are Meffengers of Day.

Caff. You shall conſeſſe, that you are both deceiſt:
Here, as I point my Sword, the Sunne arifes,
Which is a great way growing on the South,
Weigh-

The Tragedie of Julius Cæsar.

Weighing the youthfull Season of the yeares.

Some two monethes hence, vp higher toward the North
He firſt preſents his fire, and the high Eaſt
Stands as the Capitoll, directly hereere.

Brü. Giue me your hands all ouer, one by one,
Caf. And let vs ſware our Reſolution.

Brut. No, not an Oath: if not the Face of men,
The ſufferance of our Soules, the times Abufe;
If theſe be Motiues weake, breake off betimes,
And euery man hence, to his idle bed:

So let high-fighted-Tyranny range on,
Till each man drop by Lottery. But if theſe
(As I am ſure they do) beare fire enough
To kindle Cowards, and to ſeele with valour
The melting Spirits of women. Then Countrymen,
What neede we any ſpurre, but our owne cauſe.
To pricke vs to redreſſe? What other Bond,
Then ſecret Romans, that haue ſpoke the word,
And will not palter ? And what other Oath,
Then Honesty to Honesty ingag'd,

That this ſhall be, or we will fall for it,
Sweare Prieſts and Cowards, and men Cautelous
Old feeble Carriors, and ſuch ſuffering Soules
That welcome wrongs: Vnto bad cauſes, ſware
Such ſtreets as men doubt; but do not ſtaine
The euen vertue of our Enterprize,

Nor th'insuppreſſiue Mettle of our Spirits,
To thinke, that our Caufe, or our Performance
Did neede an Oath. When euery drop of blood
That euery Roman beares, and Nobly beares
Is guilty of a ſeverall Baſtardie,
If he do breake the ſmalleſt Particle

Of any promife that hath paſt from him.

Caf. But what of Cicerò ? Shall we found him ?
I thinke he will ſtand very ſtrong with vs.
Cask. Let vs not leaue him out.

Cyn. No, by no meane.
Metel. O let vs haue him, for his Siluer haires
Will purchase vs a good opinion:
And buy mens voyces, to commend our deeds:
It ſhall be ſayd, his iudgement rul'd our hands,
Our youths, and wildenſe, ſhall no whit appeare,
But all be buried in his Gravity.

Bru. O name him not; let vs not breake with him,
For he will neuer follow any thing
That other men begin.

Caf. Then leaue him out.

Cask. Indeed, he is not fit.

Decius. Shall no man else be toucht, but onely Cæsar ?

Caf. Decius well vrg'd: I thinke it is not meet,

Marke Antony. To well belou'd of Cæsar,

Should out-lie Cæsar, we ſhall finde of him
A ſhrew'd Contriver. And you know, his meaneſ
If he improue them, may well ſtretch ſo farre
As to annoy vs all: which to preuent,

Let Antony and Cæsar fall together.

Bru. Our courſe will ſeeme too bloody, Caines Cæſtus,
To cut the Head off, and then hacke the Limbes:
Like Wrath in death, and Enuy afterwards:
For Antony, is but a Limbe of Cæsar.
Let be Sacrificers, but not Butchers Caines:
We all ſand vp againſt the ſpirit of Cæsar,
And in the Spirit of men, there is no blood:
O that we then could come by Cæſars ſpirite,
And not diſmember Cæsar! But (alas)
Cæſar muſt bleed for it. And gentle Friends,

Let's kill him Boldly, but not Wrathfully:

Let's carue him, as a Difſt fit for the Gods,
Not hew him as a Carkaſſe fit for Hounds:

And let our Hearts, as ſubtle Maſters do,
Stirre vp their ſeruants to an acte of Rage,
And after ſeeme to chide 'em. This ſhall make
Our purpofe Neceſſary, and not Enuious.

Which ſo appearing to the common eyes,
We shall be call'd Purgers, not Murderers.

And for Marke Antony, thinke not of him:

For he can do no more then Cæſars Ame,
When Cæſars head is off.

Caf. Yet I feare him,

For in the ingrafted loue he beares to Cæsar.

Bru. Alas, good Cæſtus, do not thinke of him:
If he loue Cæsar, all that he can do

Is to himselfe; take thought, and dye for Cæsar,
And that were much he ſhould : for he is giuen
To ſports, to wildenſe, and much company.

Treb. There is no ſeafe in him; let him not dye,
For he will liue, and laugh at this hereafter.

Cloake strikes.

Bru. Peace, count the Clocke.

Caf. The Clocke hath stricken three.

Treb. 'Tis time to part.

Caff. But it is doubtfull yet,

Whether Cæsar will come forth to day, or no:

For he is Superflitious growne of late,
Quite from the maine Opinion he held once,
Of Fantafie, of Dreames, and Ceremonies:

It may be, theſe apparant Prodigies,
The vnaccuſtum'd Terror of this night,
And the perſwafion of his Augurers,
May hold him from the Capitoll to day.

Dacius. Neuer ſeare that: If he be ſo refolu'd,
I can ore-ſway him: For he loues to heare,
That Vnicornes may be betray'd with Trees,
And Beares with Glaſſes, Elephants with Holes,
Lyons with Toyles, and men with Flatterers.

But, when I tell him, he hates Flatterers,
He ſayes, he does; being then moſt flattered.

Let me worke :

For I can giue his humour the true bent ;

And I will bring him to the Capitoll.

Caf. Nay, we will all of vs, be there to fetch him.

Bru. By the eight houre, is that the vttermoſt?

Cin. Be that the vttermoſt, and faile not then.

Met. Cains Ligarius doth beare Cæſar hard,
Who rated him for ſpeaking well of Pompée ;

I wonder none of you haue thought of him.

Bru. Now good Metellus go along by him:
He loues me well, and I haue giuen him Reaſons,
Send him but hither, and Ile fashion him.

Caf. The morning comes vpon's:

Wee'll leaue you Brutus,

And friends diſperſe your ſelues; but all remember

What you haue ſaid, and ſhew your ſelues true Romans.

Bru. Good Gentlemen, looke fresh and merrily,
Let not our lookes put on our purpofes,
But beare it as our Roman Actors do,
With vntyr'd Spirits, and ſormall Conſtancie,
And ſo good morrow to you euery one.

Exultant.

Manet Brutus.

Boy: Lucius: Faſt aſſleepe ? It is no matter,
Enioy the hony-heauy-Dew of Slumber:
Thou haſt no Figures, nor no Fantasies,

Which

116

Which bufie care drawes, in the braines of men;
Therefore thou fleep't fo found.

Enter Portia.

Por. Brutus, my Lord.
Bru. Portia: What meane you? wherfore rife you now?
It is not for your health, thus to commit
Your weake condition, to the raw cold morning.

Por. Nor for yours neither. Y'haue vngently Brutus
Stole from my bed: and yefternight at Supper
You fodainly arofe, and walk'd about,
Mufing, and fighing, with your armes a-croffe:
And when I ask'd you what the matter was,
You ftar'd vpon me, with vngentle looks.
I vrg'd you further, then you scratch'd your head,
And too impatiently ftampt with your foote:
Yet I infiſted, yet you anſwer'd not,
But with an angry waſter of your hand
Gaue ſigne for me to leaue you: So I did,
Fearing to ſtrengthen that impatience
Which ſeem'd too much inkindled; and withall,
Hoping it was but an effect of Humor,
Which fometime hath his houre with euery man.
It will not let you eate, nor talke, nor ſleepe;
And could it worke ſo much vpon your ſhape,
As it hath much preuay'l'd on your Condlition,
I should not know you Brutus. Deare my Lord,
Make me acquainted with your cauſe of greeſe.

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

Por. Brutus is wife, and were he not in health,
He would embrace the meanes to come by it.

Bru. Why so I do: good Portia go to bed.

Por. Is Brutus ſicke? And is it Phyſicall
To walke vnbraced, and ſucke vp the humours
Of the danke Morning? What, is Brutus ſicke?
And will he ſteale out of his wholſome bed
To dare the vile contagion of the Night?
And tempt the Rhewmy, and vnpurged Ayre,
To adde vnto hit ſickneſſe? No my Brutus,
You haue ſome ſicke Offence within your minde,
Which by the Right and Vertue of my place
Iought to know of: And vpon my knees,
I charme you, by my once commended Beauty,
By all your vowes of Loue, and that great Vow
Which did incorporate and make vs one,
That you vnfold to me, your ſelfe; your halſe
Why you are heavy: and what men to night
Haue had refort to you: for heere haue beene
Some ſixe or ſeven, who did hide their faces
Euen from darkneſſe.

Bru. Kneele not gentle Portia.

Por. I should not neede, if you were gentle Brutus.
Within the Bond of Marriage, tell me Brutus,
Is it excepted, I should know no Secrets
That appertaine to you ? Am I your ſelfe,
But as it were in fort, or limitation?
To keepe with you at Meales, comfort your Bed,
And talke to you fometimes? Dwell! I but in the Suburbs
Of your good pleafure ? If it be no more,
Portia is Brutus Harlot, not his Wife.

Bru. You are my true and honourable Wife,
As deere to me, as are the ruddy droppes
That wifit my ſad heart.

Por. If this were true, then should I know this ſecret,
I graunt I am a Woman; but withall,
A Woman that Lord Brutus tooke to Wife:
I graunt I am a Woman; but withall,

A Woman well reputed: Cato's Daughter.
Thinke you, I am no ſtronger then my Sex
Being ſo Father'd, and ſo Husbanded?

Tell me your Counſels, I will not diſcloſe 'em:
I haue made ſtrong proofe of my Conſtancie,
Guing my ſelfe a voluntary wound
Heere, in the Thigh: Can I beare that with patience,
And not my Husbands Secrets?

Bru. O ye Gods!

Render me worthy of this Noble Wife.

Harke, harke, one knockes: Portia go in a while,
And by and by thy boſome ſhall partake
The ſecrets of my Heart.

All my engagements, I will conſtrue to thee,
All the Chaffraſtery of my ſad browes:
Leaue me with haſt.

Exit Portia.

Enter Lucius and Ligarius.

Lucius, who's that knockes.

Luc. Heere is a ſicke man that would ſpeak with you.
Bru. Caius Ligarius, that Metellus ſpake of,
Boy, ſtand aside. Caius Ligarius, how?

Cai. Vouchſaſe good morrow from a feeble tongue.

Bru. O what a time haue you choſe out braue Caius?

To weare a Kerchieſe? Would you you were not ſicks?

Cai. I am not ſicke, if Brutus haue in hand
Any exploit worthy the name of Honor.

Bru. Such an exploit haue I in hand Ligarius,
Had you a healthfull care to heare of it.

Cai. By all the Gods that Romans bow before,
I heere diſcard my ſickneſſe. Soule of Rome,
Braue Sonne, deriu'd from Honourable Loines,
Thou like an Exorcift, haſt coniur'd vp
My mortified Spirit. Now bid me runne,
And I will ſtrie with things impoſſible,
Yea get the better of them. What's to do?

Bru. A peecce of worke,
That will make ſicke men whole.

Cai. But are not ſome whole, that we muſt make ſicke?

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

Cai. Set on your foote,
And with a heart new-ſir'd, I follow you,
To do I know not what: but it ſufficeth
That Brutus leads me on.

Bru. Follow me then.

Thunder,
Exeunt

Thunder & Lightning.
Enter Julius Caesar in his Night-gowne.

Caſar. Nor Heauen, nor Earth,
Haue beene at peace to night:
Thrice hath Calphurnia, in her ſleepe cryed out,
Helpe, ho: They murther Caſar. Who's within?

Enter a Servant.

Ser. My Lord.

Caſ. Go bid the Priefts do preſent Sacrifice,
And bring me their opinions of Succeſſe.

Exit

Ser. I will my Lord.

Enter Calphurnia.

Caſ. What mean you Caſar? Think you to walk forth?
You ſhall not ftirre out of your houſe to day.
Caſ. Caſar ſhall forth; the things that threaten'd me,
Ne're look'd but on my backe: When they ſhall fee
The face of Caſar they are vaniſhed.

Calp. *Caesar*. I neuer flood on Ceremonies,
Yet now they fright me: There is one within,
Besides the things that we have heard and seene,
Recounts moft horrid fights seene by the Watch.
A Lionneſtie hath whelped in the flreets,
And Graues haue yawn'd, and yeelded vp their dead;
Fierce fiery Warrions fight vpon the Clouds
In Rankes and Squadrons, and right forme of Warre
Which drizl'd blood vpon the Capitoll:
The noife of Battell hurtled in the Ayre:
Horsſes do neigh, and dying men did grone,
And Ghoſts did ſtrieke and ſqueale about the flreets.
O *Caesar*: theſe things are beyond all vie,
And I do ſeare them.

*Caef.* What can be auoyded

Whole end is purp'st'd by the mighty Gods ?
Yet *Caesar* shall go forth : for theſe Predictions
Are to the world in generall, as to *Caesar*.

Calp. When Beggers dye, there are no Comets ſeech,
The Heauens themelues blaze forth the death of Princes

*Caef.* Cowards dye many times before their deaths,
The valiant neuer taſte of death but once :
Of all the Wonders that I yet haue heard,
It ſeemes to me moſt ſtrange that men ſhould ſeare,
Seeing that death, a neceſſary end
Will come, when it will come.

*Enter a Servant.*

What ſay the Augurers?

*Ser.* They would not haue you to ſirre forth to day.

Plucking the intrailes of an Offering forth,
They could not ſinde a heart within the beaſt.

*Caef.* The Gods do this in ſhame of Cowardice:

*Caesar* should be a Beaſt without a heart
If he ſhould ſtay at home to day for ſeare:
No *Caesar* shall not; Danger knowes full well
That *Caesar* is more dangerous then he.
We haue two Lyons litter'd in one day,

And I the elder and many terrible,
And *Caesar* shall go fourth.

Calp. Alas my Lord,

Your wifedome is confu'd in confidence:
Donot go forth to day: Call it my ſeare,
That keepeſ you in the houſe, and not your owne.
Wee'l ſend *Mark Antony* to the Senate houſe,
And he ſhall ſay, you are not well to day :
Let me vpon my knee, preuail in this.

*Caef.* Mark Antony shall ſay I am not well,

And for thy humor, I will ſtay at home.

*Enter Decius.*

Heere's *Decius Brutus* he ſhall tell them to.

*Deci.* *Caesar*, all hile: Good morrow worthy *Caesar*,
I come to fetch you to the Senate houſe.

*Caef.* And you are come in very happy time,
To beare my greering to the Senators,

And tell them that I will not come to day :

Cannot, is ſale: and that I dare not, ſalter.

I will not come to day, tell them to Decius.

Calp. Say he is ſicke.

*Caef.* Shall *Caesar* ſend a Lye?

Haue I in Conqueſt ſtretcſt mine Arme so ſare,
To be aſcar'd to tell Gray-beards the truth :

*Decius* go tell them, *Caesar* will not come.

*Deci.* Moſt mighty *Caesar* let me know ſome cauſe,
Left I be lauſt at when I tell them to.

*Caef.* The cauſe is in my Will, I will not come,
That is enough to ſatisfie the Senate.

But for your private ſatisfaction,

Because I loue you, I will let you know.

*Calphurnia* heere my wife, ſtayes me at home :

She dreamp't to night, ſhe saw my Statue,
Which like a Fountaine, with an hundred ſpouts

Did run pure blood: and many lufty Romans

Came smiling, & did bathe their hands in it:

And theſe does ſhe apply, for warnings and portents,

And euils imminent; and on her knee

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

*Deci.* This Dreame is all amſile interpreted,
It was a viſion, ſaire and fortunate:

Your Statue ſpouting blood in many pipes,

In which ſo many smiling Romans bath'd,

Signifies, that from you great Rome ſhall ſucke

Reuiving blood, and that great men ſhall preſſe

For Tinctures, Staines, Reliques, and Cogniſance.

This by Calphurnia's Dreame is ſigniſed.

*Caef.* And this way haue you well expounded it.

*Deci.* I haue, when you haue heard what I can ſay :

And know it now, the Senate haue concluded

To give this day, a Crowne to mighty *Caesar*.

If you ſhall ſend them word you will not come,

Their mindeſ may change. Befides, it were a mocke

Apt to be rendered, for ſome one to ſay,

Breake vp the Senate, till another time:

When *Caefars* wife ſhall meete with better Dreames.

If *Caesar* hide himſelfe, ſhall they not ſwhipper:

*Loe Caesar* is aſſaid?

Pardon me *Caesar*, for my deere deere loue

To your proceeding, bids me tell you this:

And reaſon to my loue is liable.

*Caef.* How ſoolſh do your ſeeme now Calphurnia?
I am aſſamed I did yeeld to them.

Giue me your Robe, for I will go.

*Enter Brutus, Ligarius, Metellus, Caska, Trebonius, Cynna and Publius.*

And locke where Publius come to fetch me:

Pub. Good morrow *Caesar*.

*Caef.* Welcome Publius.

What *Brutus*, are you flutt'd so early too?

Good morrow *Caska*: *Cainus Ligarius*,

*Caesar* was ne're so much your enemey,

As that fame Ague which hath made you leane.

What is't a Clocke?

*Bra.* *Caesar*, 'tis truoken eight.

*Caef.* I thanke you for your paines and curteſſe.

*Enter Antony.*

See, *Antony* that Reuels long a-nights

Is notwithſtanding vp, Good morrow *Antony*.

*Ant.* So to moſt Noble *Caesar*.

*Caef.* Bid them prepare within:

I am too blame to be thus waited for.

Now *Cynna*, now *Metellius*: what *Trebonius*,

I haue an houres taſke in ſiore for you:

Remember that you call on me to day :

Be neere me, that I may remember you.

*Treb. Caſar* I will: and to neere will I be,

That your beſt Friends ſhall with I had beene further.

*Caef.* Good Friends go in, and taſte ſome wine with me.

And we (like Friends) will ſtraight way go together.

*Bra.* That euery like is not the ſame, O *Caesar*,

The heart of *Brutus* earnes to thinke upon.

*Enter Artemidorus.*

*Caesar, beware of Brutus; take heede of Cæsars; come not neere to me.*

118

The Tragedie of Julius Cæsar.

neere Caska,haue an eye to Cynna, trust not Trebonius, marke
well Metellus Cymber, Decius Brutus loues thee not: Thou
haft wrong'd Caius Ligarius. There is but one minde in all
these men, and it is bent against Cæsar: If thou beest not Im-
mortall, looke about you: Security gives way to Confpiracie.
The mighty Gods defend thee.

Thy Louer, *Artemidorus*.

Heere will I stand, till Cæsar paffe along,

And as a Sutor will I giue him this:

My heart laments, that Vertue cannot liue
Out of the teeth of Emulation.

If thou reade this, O *Cæsar*, thou mayest liues

If not, the Fates with Traitors do contriue.

Enter Portia and Lucius.

Por. I prythee Boy, run to the Senate-houſe,
Stay not to anſwer me, but get thee gone.

Why doeth thou fly?

Luc. To know my errand Madam.

Por. I would haue had thee there and heere agen
Ere I can tell thee what thou shouldst do there:

O Conſtancie, be strong upon my side,

Set a huge Mountaine'tweene my Heart and Tongue:

I haue a man's minde, but a woman's might:

How hard it is for women to keepe counſell.

Art thou heere yet?

Luc. Madam, what should I do?

Run to the Capitoll, and nothing else?

And so returne to you, and nothing else?

Por. Yes, bring me word Boy, if thy Lord look well,
For he went fickly forth: and take good note

What *Cæsar* doth, what Sutors preſſe to him.

Hearke Boy, what noyfe is that?

Luc. I heare none Madam.

Por. Prythee liften well:

I heard a buſling Rumor like a Fray,

And the winde brings it from the Capitoll.

Luc. Sooth Madam, I heare nothing.

Enter the Soothsayer.

Por. Come hither Fellow, which way haſt thou bin?

Sooth. At mine owne houſe, good Lady.

Por. What is't a clocke?

Sooth. About the ninth houre Lady.

Por. Is *Cæsar* yet gone to the Capitoll?

Sooth. Madam not yet, I go to take my stand.

To fee him paffe on to the Capitoll.

Por. Thou haſt some ſuite to Cæsar, haſt thou not?

Sooth. That I haue Lady, if it will pleafe Cæsar

To be so good to *Cæsar*, as to heare me:

I ſhall befeech him to beſtriend himſelfe.

Por. Why know Ift thou any harme's intended to-
wards him?

Sooth. None that I know will be,

Much that I feare may chance:

Good morrow to you: heere the street is narrow:

The throng that followes *Cæsar* at the heeleſ,

Of Senators, of Praetors, common Sutors,

Will crowd a feeble man (almost) to death:

Ile get me to a place more voyd, and there

Speake to great *Cæsar* as he comes along.

Por. I muſt go in:

Aye me! How wenke a thing,

The heart of woman is: O *Brutus*,

The Heauens ſpeede thee in thine enterprize.

Sure the Boy heard me: *Brutus* hath a ſuite

That *Cæsar* will not grant. O, I grow faint:

Run *Lucius*, and commend me to my Lord,

Exit.

Say I am merry; Come to me againe,
And bring me word what he doth ſay to thee.

Exeunt

## Actus Tertius.

Flourish'd.

Enter *Caesar*, *Brutus*, *Cassius*, *Caska*, *Decius*, *Metellus*, *Trebonius*, *Cynna*, *Antony*, *Lepius*, *Artimedorus*, *Publius*, and the Soothsayer.

Caſ. The Idees of March are come.

Sooth. I *Cæsar*, but not gone.

Art. Haile *Cæsar*: Read this Scedule.

Deci. Trebonius doth desire you to ore-read
(At your best leyſure) this his humble ſuite,

Art. O *Cæsar*, reade mine firſt: for mine's a ſuite

That touches *Cæsar* neerer. Read it great *Cæsar*.

Caſ. What touches vs our ſelſe, shall be haſt ſeru'd.

Art. Delay not *Cæsar*, read it inſantly.

Caſ. What, is the fellow mad?

Pub. Sirra, giue place.

Caſi. What, vrge you your Petitions in the street?

Come to the Capitoll.

Popil. I wiſh your enterprize to day may thriue,

Caſi. What enterprize *Popillius*?

Popil. Fare you well.

Bru. What ſaid *Popillius* *Lena*?

Caſi. He wiſht to day our enterprize might thriue:
I ſeare our purpofe is diſcouraged.

Bru. Looke how he makes to *Cæsar*: matke him.

Caſi. *Caska* be ſodaine, for we ſeare preuention.

*Brutus* what that shall be done? If this be knowne,

*Cassius* or *Cæsar* neuer shall turne backe,

For I will fly my ſelfe.

Bru. *Cassius* is contant:

*Popillius* *Lena* ſpeakes not of our purpofes,

For looke he ſmiles, and *Cæsar* doth not change.

Caſi. Trebonius knowes his time: for look you *Brutus*

He drawes Mark Antony out of the way.

Deci. Where is Metellus Cimber, let him go,
And prefently preferre his ſuite to *Cæsar*.

Bru. He is addreſt: preſſe neere, and ſecond him.

Cin. *Caska*, you are the firſt that reares your hand.

Caſ. Are we all ready? What is now amiffie,

That *Cæsar* and his Senate muſt redreſſe?

Metel. Moſt high, moſt mighty, and moſt puifant *Caſar*
Metellus Cymber throwes before thy Seate
An humble heart.

Caſ. I muſt preuent thee *Cymber*:

Theſe couchings, and theſe lowly courſities

Might fire the blood of ordinary men,

And turne pre-Ordinance, and firſt Decree;

Into the lane of Children. Be not ſond.

To thinke that *Cæsar* beares ſuch Rebell blood

That will be thaw'd from the true quality

With that which melteth Fooles, I meane ſweet words,

Low-crooked-curtiſes, and bafe Spaniell fawning:

Thy Brother by decree is banifhed:

If thou doeſt bend, and pray, and fawne for him,

I ſpurne thee like a Curre out of my way:

Know, *Cæsar* doth not wrong, nor without caufe

Will he be ſatified.

Metel, Is there no voyce more worthy then my owne,

To

The Tragedie of Julius Cæsar.

To found more fweetly in great Cæsars eare,
for the repealing of my banifh'd Brother?

Bru. I kiffe thy hand, but not in flattery Cæsar :

Defiring thee, that Publius Cymber may
Hae an immediate freedome of repeale.

Cæf. What Brutus?

Caffi. Pardon Cæsar : Cæsar pardon :

As lowe as to thy foote doth Caffins fall,
To begge infranchifement for Publius Cymber.

Bri. I could be well mou'd, if I were as you,
If I could pray to mooe, Prayers would mooe me:
But I am conftant as the Northernne Starre,
Of whose true fixt, and refting quality,
There is no fellow in the Firmament.

The Skies are painted with vnnumbed ſparkes,
They are all Fire, and euery one doth ſhine :
But, there's but one in all doth hold his place.

So, in the World; 'Tis furnifh'd well with Men,
And Men are Fleth and Blood, and apprehenſiue;
Yet in the number, I do know but One
That vnnaſſay leable holds on his Ranke,
Vnaſhak'd of Motion: and that I am he,
Let me a little ſhew it, euen in this:

That I was conſtant Cymber ſhould be banifh'd,
And conſtant do remaine to keepe him ſo.

Cinna. O Cæsar.

Cæſ. Hence: Wilt thou lift vp Olympus?

Decius. Great Cæsar.

Cæſ. Doth not Brutus bootleſſe kneele ?

Cask. Speake hands for me.

They ſtab Cæsar.

Cæſ. Et Tu Brutus? — Then fall Cæsar.

Dyes

Cin. Liberty, Freedome; Tyranny is dead,

Run hence, proclaime, cry it about the Streets,

Caffi. Some to the common Pulpits, and cry out
Liberty, Freedome, and Enfranchifement.

Bri. People and Senators, beno affrighted :
Fly not, ſtand fill : Ambitions debt is paid.

Cask. Go to the Pulpit Brutus.

Dec. And Caffins too.

Bri. Where's Publius?

Cin. Heere, quite confounded with this mutiny.

Met. Stand faſt together, leaſt some Friend of Cæſars

Should chance —

Bri. Talke not of ſtanding. Publius good cheere,
There is no harme intended to your perſon,
Nor to no Roman elfe: ſo tell them Publius.

Caffi. And leaue vs Publius, leaſt that the people
Ruſhing on vs, ſhould do your Age ſome miſchieſe.

Bri. Do ſo, and let no man abide this deede,
But we the Doers.

Enter Trebonius.

Caffi. Where is Antony?

Treb. Fled to his House amaz'd:
Men, Wiues, and Children, ſtare, cry out, and run,
As it were Doomeſday.

Bri. Fates, we will know your pleafures :
That we ſhall dye we know, 'tis but the time
And drawing dayes out, that men ſtand vpon.

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

Bri. Grant that, and then is Death a Benefit :
So are we Cæſars Friends, that haue abridg'd
His time of fearing death. Stoope Romans, Stoope,
And let vs bathe our hands in Cæſars blood

Vp to the Elbowes, and beſmeare our Swords.

Then walke we forth, euen to the Market place,
And wauing our red Weapons o're our heads,
Let's all cry Peace, Freedome, and Liberty.

Caffi. Stoop then, and wath. How many Ages hence
Shall this our lofty Scene be acted ouer,
In State vnborne, and Accents yet vnknowne?

Bri. How many times ſhall Cæsar bleed in ſport,
That now on Pompeyes Bafis lye along,
No worthier then the duſt?

Caffi. So oft as that ſhall be,
So often ſhall the knot of vs be call'd,
The Men that gaue their Country liberty.

Dec. What, ſhall we forth?

Caffi. I.euery man away.

Brutus ſhall leade, and we will grace his heeles
With the moſt boldeſt, and beſt hearts of Rome.

Enter a Servant.

Bri. Soft, who comes here? A friend of Antonies,

Ser. Thus Brutus did my Maſter bid me kneele;

Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall downe,
And being proſtrate, thus he bad me ſay :

Brutus is Noble, Wife, Valiant, and Honeſt ;
Caſar was Mighty, Bold, Royall, and Louing :

Say, I loue Brutus, and I honour him ;

Say, I fear'd Cæsar, honour'd him, and lou'd him!

If Brutus will vouchſafe, that Antony

May safely come to him, and be reſolu'd

How Cæsar hath deferu'd to lye in death,

Mark Antony, ſhall not loue Cæsar dead

So well as Brutus liuing; but will follow

The Fortunes and Aſſayres of Noble Brutus,

Thorough the hazards of this vntrōd State,

With all true Faith. So ſayes my Maſter Antony.

Bri. Thy Maſter is a Wife and Valiant Romane,
I never thought him worſe :

Tell him, ſo pleafe him come vnto this place

He ſhall be ſatſiſed; and by my Honor

Depart vntouch'd.

Ser. Ile fetch him prefently.

Exit Servant.

Bri. I know that we ſhall haue him well to Friend,

Caffi. I wiſh we may : But yet haue I a minde

That ſeares him much : and my miſgiuing ſtill

Falles ſhrewdly to the purpofe.

Enter Antony.

Bri. But heere comes Antony :

Welcome Mark Antony.

Ant. O mighty Cæsar! Doſt thou lye ſo lowe?

Are all thy Conqueſts, Glories, Triumphes, Spoiles,

Shrunke to this little Meaſure ? Fare thee well.

I know not Gentlemen what you intend,

Who elfe muſt be let blood, who elfe is ranke :

If I my ſelfe, there is no houre ſo ſit

As Cæſars deaths houre ; nor no Inſtrument

Of halſe that worth, as thatſe your Swords; made rich

With the moſt Noble blood of all this World.

I do beſeech yee, if you beare me hard,

Now, whil'th your purpled hands do reeke and ſmoake,

Fulſtill your pleafure. Lie a thouſand yeeres,

I ſhall not find my ſelfe ſo apt to dye.

No place will pleafe me ſo, no meane of death,

As heere by Cæsar, and by you cut off,

The Choice and Maſter Spirits of this Age.

Bri. O Antony ! Begge not your death of vs:
Though now we muſt appeare bloody and cruel,
As by our hands, and this our preſent Acte
You ſee we do : Yet ſee you but our hands,

And

The Tragedie of Julius Cæsar.

And this, the bleeding buſineſſe they haue dor e:
Our hearts you ſee not, they are pittifull:
And pitty to the generall wrong of Rome,
As fire drines out fire, ſo pitty, pitty
Hath done this deed on Cæſar. For your part,
To you, our Swords haue leaden points Marke Antony:
Our Armes in ſtrength of malice, and our Hearts
Of Brothers temper, do receiue you in,
With all kind loue, good thoughts, and reuerence.

Caffi. Your voyce ſhall be as ſtrong as any mans,
In the diſpofing of new Dignities.

Bru. Onerely be patient, till we haue appeaſ'd
The Multitude, beſide themſelues with ſteare,
And then, we will deliver you the cauſe,
Why I, that did loue Cæſar when I ſtrooke him,
Haue thus proceeded.

Ant. I doubt not of your Wifedome:
Let each man render me his bloody hand.
Flrſt Marcus Brutus will I ſhake with you;
Next Caius Caffius do I take your hand;
Now Decius Brutus yours; now yours Metellus;
Yours Cinnaq and my valiant Caska, yours;
Though laſt, not leaſt in loue, yours good Trebonius,
Gentlemen all: Alas, what ſhall I ſay,
My credit now ſtands on ſuch ſlippery ground,
That one of two bad wayes you muſt conceit me,
Either a Coward, or a Flatterer.

That I did loue thee Cæſar, O'tis true:
If then thy Spirit looke vpon vs now,
Shall it not greeue thee deerer then thy death,
To ſee thy Antony making his peace,
Shaking the bloody ſingers of thy Foes?
Moſt Noble, in the prefence of thy Coarſe,
Had I as many eyes, as thou haſt wounds,
Weeping as ſaſt as they ſtreame forth thy blood,
It would become me better, then to cloſe
In tearmes of Friendſlip with thine enemies.
Pardon me Ilius, heere was't thou bay'd braue Hart,
Heere did't thou fall, and heere thy Hunters ſtand
Sig'n'd in thy Spoyle, and Crimſon'd in thy Lethee.
O World! thou waſt the Forreſt to this Hart,
And this indeed, O World, the Hart of thee.
How like a Deere, ſtphan by many Princes,
Doſt thou neere lye?

Caffi. Mark Antony.

Ant. Pardon me Caius Caffius:
The Enemies of Cæſar, ſhall ſay this:
Then, in a Friend, it is cold Modestie.
Caffi. I blame you not for praifing Cæſar ſo,
But what compaſt meane you to haue with vs?
Will you be prick'd in number of our Friends,
Or ſhall we on, and not depend on you?

Ant. Therefore I took your hands, but was indeed
Sway'd from the point, by looking downe on Cæſar.
Friends am I with you all, and loue you all,
Vpon this hope, that you ſhall giue me Reaſons,
Why, and wherein, Cæſar was dangerous.

Bru. Or else were this a ſauage Spectacle:
Our Reaſons are ſo full of good regard,
That were you Antony, the Sonne of Cæſar,
You should be ſatisſed.

Bru. You ſhall Marke Antony.

Caffi. Brutus, a word with you:

You know not what you do; Do not conſent
That Antony ſpeake in his Funerall:
Know you how much the people may be mou'd
By that which he will vtter.

Bru. By your pardon:
I will my ſelfe into the Pulpit firſt,
And ſhow the reaſon of our Cæſars death.

What Antony ſhall ſpeake, I will proteſt
He ſpeakes by leaue, and by permiſion:

And that we are contented Cæſar ſhall
Haue all true Rites, and lawſull Ceremonies,
It ſhall aduantage more, then do vs wrong.

Caffi. I know not what may fall, I like it not.

Bru. Marke Antony, heere take you Cæſars body:
You ſhall not in your Funerall ſpeech blame vs,
But ſpeake all good you can deuife of Cæſar,
And ſay you doot by our permiſion:
Elſe ſhall you not haue any hand at all
About his Funerall. And you ſhall ſpeake
In the fame Pulpit whereto I am going,
After my ſpeech is ended.

Ant. Be it ſo:
I do deſire no more.

Bru. Prepare the body then, and follow vs. Exequiis,
Manet Antony.

O pardon me, thou bleeding peecce of Earth:
That I am meeke and gentle with theſe Butchers.
Thou art the Ruines of the Noblenſt man
That euer hued in the Tide of Times.
Woe to the hand that ſhed this coſtly Blood,
Ouer thy wounds, now do I Propheſie,
(Which like dumbe mouthes do ope their Ruby lips,
To begge the voyce and vtterance of my Tongue)
A Cura ſhall light vpon the limbes of men;
Domeſticke Fury, and ſierce Ciuillſtrife,
Shall cumber all the parts of Italy:
Blood and deſtruction ſhall be ſo in vſe,
And dreadfull Obieſs ſo familiar,
That Mothers ſhall but ſmile, when they behold
Their Infants quartered with the hands of Warre:
All pitty choak'd with cuitome of ſell deeds,
And Cæſars Spirit ranging for Reuenge,
With Ate by his ſide, come hot from Hell,
Shall in theſe Confines, with a Monarkes voyce,
Cry hauocke, and let ſlip the Dogges of Warre;
That this ſoule deede, ſhall ſmell about the earth
With Carrion men, groaning for Buriall.

Enter Oſtanio's Servant.

You ſerue Oſtanio's Cæſar, do you not?

Ser. I do Marke Antony.

Ant. Cæſar did write for him to come to Rome.
Ser. He did receiue his Letters, and is comming,
And bid me ſay to you by word of mouth—

O Cæſar!

Ant. Thy heart is bigge: get thee a-part and weepen
Paſſion I ſee is catching from mine eyes,
Seeing theſe Beads of ſorrow ſtand in thine,
Began to water. Is thy Maſter comming?

Ser. He lies to night within ſeuen Leagues of Rome.
Ant. Poſt backe with ſpeede,

And tell him what hath chanc'd:
Heere is a mouming Rome, a dangerous Rome,
No Rome of safety for Oſtanio yet,
Hie hence, and tell him so. Yet ſtay a while,

Thou

The Tragedie of Fulius Cæsar.

12.1

Thou shall not backe, till I haue borne this courtse
Into the Market place : There shall I try

In my Oration, how the People take
The cruell ille of these bloody men,
According to the which, thou shall discouerse
To yong Octavia, of the state of things.

Lend me your hand.

Exeunt

Enter Brutus and goes into the Pulpit, and Caffi-
us, with the Plebeians.

Ple. We will be satisfied: let vs be satisfied.

Bru. Then follow me, and giue me Audience friends,
Caffius go you into the other streete,

And part the Numbers :

Those that will heare me speake, let 'em flay heere ;

Those that will follow Caffias, go with him,

And publike Reafons shall be rendred

Of Cæsars death.

1. PLE. I will heare Brutus speake.

2. I will heare Caffius, and compare their Reafons,
When feuerally we heare them rendred.

3. The Noble Cæsar is afcended: Silence.

Ern. Be patient till the last.

Romans, Countrey-men, and Louers, heare mee for my
caufe, and be filent, that you may heare. Beleeue me for
mine Honor, and haue reſpect to mine Honor, that you
may beleeue. Cenſure me in your Wifedom, and awake
your Senſes, that you may the better Iudge. If there bee
any in this Asſembly, any deere Friend of Cæsars, to him
I lay, that Brutus loue to Cæsar, was no leſſe then his. If
then, that Friend demand, why Brutus ſtoke againſt Ca-
ſar, this is my anſwer: Not that I lou'd Cæsar leſſe, but
that I lou'd Rome more. Had you rather Cæsar were liu-
ing, and dye all Slaues; then that Cæsar were dead, to
lie all Free-men ? As Cæsar lou'd mee, I weepe for him;
as he was Fortunate, I reioyce at it; as he was Valiant, I
honour him: But, as he was Ambitious, I flew him. There
is Teares, for his Loue: Ioy, for his Fortune: Honor, for
his Valour: and Death, for his Ambition. Who is heere
ſo bafe, that would be a Bondman? If any, ſpeak, for him
haue I offended. Who is heere ſo rude, that would not
be a Roman? If any, ſpeak, for him haue I offended. Who
is heere ſo vile, that will not loue his Countrey? If any,
ſpeak, for him haue I offended. I paſue for a Reply.

All. None Brutus, none.

Brutus. Then none haue I offended. I haue done no
more to Cæsar, then you ſhall do to Brutus. The Queſti-
on of his death, is inroll'd in the Capitoll: his Glory not
extenuated, wherein he was worthy; nor his offences en-
fore'd, for which he ſuffered death.

Enter Mark Antony, with Cæsars body.

Heere comes his Body, mourn'd by Marke Antony, who
though he had no hand in his death, ſhall receiue the be-
neſe of his dying, a place in the Comonwealth, as which
of you ſhall not. With this I depart, that as I flewe my
beſt Louer for the good of Rome, I haue the fame Dag-
ger for my ſelfe, when it ſhall pleafe my Country to need
my death.

All. Lye Brutus, lye, lye.

1. Bring him with Triumph home vnto his house.

2. Giue him a Statue with his Anceſtors.

3. Let him be Cæsar.

4. Cæsars better parts,

Shall be Crown'd in Brutus.

1. Wee'l bring him to his House,
With Showts and Clamors.

Bri. My Country-men.

2. Peace, filence, Brutus ſpeakes.

I. Peace ho.

Bru. Good Countrymen, let me depart alone,
And (for my ſake) ſtay heere with Antony:
Do grace to Cæsars Corpes, and grace his Speech
Tending to Cæsars Glories, which Marke Antony
(By our perſmission) is allow'd to make.

I do intreat you, not a man depart,
Sauē alone, till Antony have ſpoke.

Exit

1. Stay ho, and let vs heare Mark Antony.

3. Let him go vp into the publike Chaire,

Wee'l heare him : Noble Antony go vp.

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

4 What does he ſay of Brutus?

3 He layes, for Brutus ſake.

He findes himselfe beholding to vs all.

4 'Twere beſt he ſpeake no harme of Brutus heere?

1 This Cæsar was a Tyrant.

3 Nay that's certaine :

We are bleſſed that Rome is rid of him.

2 Peace, let vs heare what Antony can ſay.

Ant. You gentle Romans.

All. Peace hoe, let vs heare him.

An. Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears:
I come to bury Cæsar, not to praife him:

The cuill that men do, liues after them,

The good is oft entered with their bones,

So let it be with Cæsar. The Noble Brutus,

Hath told you Cæsar was Ambitious :

If it were ſo, it was a greeuous Fault,

And greeuouſly hath Cæsar anſwer'd it.

Heere, vnder leaue of Brutus, and the reſt

(For Brutus is an Honourable man,

So are they all; all Honourable men)

Come I to ſpeake in Cæsars Funerall.

He was my Friend, faithfull, and iuſt to me ;

But Brutus layes, he was Ambitious,

And Brutus is an Honourable man.

He hath brought many Captiues home to Rome,

Whofe Ranſomes, did the generall Coſſers fill:

Did this in Cæsar ſeeme Ambitious?

When that the poore haue cry'de, Cæsar hath wept:

Ambition ſhould be made of ſterner ſtuffe,

Yet Brutus layes, he was Ambitious :

You all did fee, that on the Lupercall'd

I thrice prefented him a Kingly Crowne,

Which he did thrice reſufe. Was this Ambition?

And ſure he is an Honourable man.

I ſpeake not to diſprooue what Brutus ſpoke,

But heere I am, to ſpeake what I do know ;

You all did loue him once, not without caufe,

What caufe with-holds you then, to mourne for him?

O Indgement! thou are fled to brutiſh Beaſts,

And Men haue loſt their Reaſon. Beare with me,

My heart is in the Coffin there with Cæsar,

And I muſt pawſe, till it come backe to me.

1 Me thinkes there is much reaſon in his ſayings.

2 If thou confider rightly of the matter,
Cæsar ha's had great wrong.

(his place.

3 Ha's hee Maſters ? I ſeare there will a worſe come in

4 Marke

11

The Tragedie of Julius Cæsar.

4. Mark'd ye his words? he would not take y Crowne,
Therefore 'tis certaine, he was not Ambitious.

1. If it be found so, some will deere abide it.

2. Poore foule, his eyes are red as fire with weeping.

3. There's not a Nobler man in Rome then Antony.

4. Now marke him, he begins againe to speake.
Ant. But yestterday, the word of Cæsar might

Hae flood against the World: Now lies he there,
And none so poore to do him reuerence,
O Maiſters ! If I were diſpos'd to ſtirre

Your hearts and mindeſ to Mutiny and Rage,
I ſhould do Brutus wrong, and Caffius wrong:
Who (you all know) are Honourable men.

I will not do them wrong: I rather chooſe
To wrong the dead, to wrong my ſelfe and you,
Then I will wrong ſuch Honourable men.

But heere's a Parchment, with the Seale of Cæsar,
I found it in his Cloſer, 'tis his Will:

Let but the Commons heare this Teſtament:
(Which pardon me) I do not mean to reade,
And they would go and kiffe dead Cæſars wounds,
And dip their Napkins in his Sacred Blood;

Yea, begge a haire of him for Memory,
And dying, mention it within their Willes,
Bequeathing it as a rich Legacie

Vnto their iſſue.

4 Wee'l heare the Will, reade it Marke Antony.

All. The Will, the Will; we will heare Cæsar Will.

Ant. Haue patience gentle Friends, I muſt not read it.

It is not meete you know how Cæsar lou'd you:
You are not Wood, you are not Stones, but men :
And being men, hearing the Will of Cæsar,
It will inflame you, it will make you mad:

'Tis good you know not that you are his Heires,
For it you ſhould, O what would come of it?

4 Read the Will, wee'l heare it Antony :

You ſhall reade vs the Will, Cæſars Will.

Ant. Will you be Patient? Will you ſtay a while?
I haue o're-ſhot my ſelfe to tell you of it,

I feare I wrong the Honourable men,

Whofe Daggers haue ſtabb'd Cæsar: I do ſeare it.

4 They were Traitors: Honourable men?

All. The Will, the Teſtament.

2 They were Villaines, Murderers: the Will, read the
Will.

Ant. You will compell me then to read the Will:
Then make a Ring about the Corpes of Cæsar,
And let me ſhow you him that made the Will:
Shall I defcend? And will you giue me leaue?

All. Come downe.

2. Dæſcend.

3 You ſhall haue leaue.

4 A Ring, ſtand round.

1 Stand from the Hearſe, ſtand from the Body.

2 Roomie for Antony, moſt Noble Antony.

Ant. Nav preſſen'to vpon me, ſtand farre off.

All. Stand backe: roome, beare backe.

Ant. If you haue teares, prepare to ſhed them now.

You all do know this Mantle, I remember

The firſt time euer Cæsar put it on,
'Twas on a Summers Euening in his Tent,
That day he ouercame the Nervy.

Looke, in this place ran Caffius Dagger through:
See what a rent the enuious Caska made:

Through this, the wel-beloued Brutus ſtabb'd,
And as he pluck'd his curſed Steele away:

Marke how the blood of Cæsar followed it,
As rufſing out of doores, to be ſelou'd
If Brutus to vnkindeſt knock'd, or no:

For Brutus, as you know, was Cæſars Angel.

Judge, O you Gods, how deerely Cæsar lou'd him:
This was the moſt vnkindeſt cut of all.

For when the Noble Cæsar ſaw him ſtab,
Ingratitude, more ſtrong then Traitors armes,
Quite vanquifh'd him: then burſt his Mighty heart,
And in his Mantle, mufſling vp his face,
Euen at the Bafe of Pompeyes Statue

(Which all the while ran blood; great Cæsar fell.
O what a fall was there, my Countrymen?

Then I, and you, and all of vs fell downe,
Whil't bloody Treason flourifh'd ouer vs.

O now you weepe, and I perceiue you feele

The dint of pitty: These are gracious droppes.
Kinde Soules, what weepe you, when you but behold
Our Cæſars Veſture wounded? Lookeyou heere,
Heere is Himſelfe, marr'd as you fee with Traitors.

1. O pitteous ſpectacle !

2. O Noble Cæſar !

3. O wofull day !

4. O Traitors, Villaines !

1. O moſt bloody fight !

2. We will be reveng'd: Reuenge

About, ſeeke, burne, fire, kill, ſlay,

Let not a Traitor lye.

Ant. Stay Country-men.

1. Peace there, heare the Noble Antony.

2. Wee'l heare him, wee'l follow him, wee'l dy with
him. (you up

Ant. Good Friends, sweet Friends, let me not ſtirre
To ſuch a fiodaine Blood of Mutiny:

They that haue done this Deede, are honourable,
What private greſſes they haue, alas I know not,
That made them do it: They are Wive, and Honourable,
And will no doubt with Reaſons anſwer you.

I come not (Friends) to ſteale away your hearts,
I am no Orator, as Brutus is;

But (as you know me all) a plaine blunt man
That loue my Friend, and that they know full well,
That gaue me publike leaue to ſpeake of him:

For I haue neyther writ nor words, nor worth,
Action, nor Vtterance, nor the power of Speech,
To ſtirre mens Blood. I onely ſpeake right on:
I tell you that, which you your ſelues do know,

Shew you sweet Cæſars wounds, poor poor dum mouths
And bid them ſpeake for me: But were I Brutus,
And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony

Would rufſe up your Spirits, and put a Tongue
In euery Wound of Cæsar, that ſhould moue
The ſtones of Rome, to rife and Mutiny.

All. Wee'l Mutiny.

1. Wee'l burne the houſe of Brutus.

3. Away then, come, ſeeke the Conſpirators.

Ant. Yet heare me Countrymen, yet heare me ſpeake
All. Peace hoe, heare Antony, moſt Noble Antony.

Ant. Why Friends, you go to do you know not what:
Wherein hath Cæsar thus deferu'd your loues?

Alas! you know not, I must tell you then:

You haue forgot the Will I told you of.

All. Moſt true, the Will, let's ſtay and heare the Will.

Ant. Heere is the Will, and vnder Cæſars Seale:

To euery Roman Citizen he giues,

To euery ſeuerall man, ſeuenty ſiue Drachmaes.

2. Ple.

The Tragedie of Julius Cæsar.

123

2 P[ic]le. Moft Noble Cæsar, wee'l reuenge his death.

3 P[ic]le. O Royall Cæsar.

Ant. Heare me with patience.

All. Peace hoe

Ant. Moreover, he hath left you all his Walkes,
His private Arbors, and new-planted Orchards,
On this side Tyber, he hath left them you,
And to your heyres for euer : common pleasures
To walke abroad, and recreate your felues,
Heere was a Cæsar: when comes such another?

1. P[ic]le. Neuer, neuer: come, away, away:
Wee'l burne his body in the holy place,
And with the Brands fire the Traitors houses,
Take vp the body.

2. P[ic]le. Go fetch fire.

3. P[ic]le. Plucke downe Benches.

4. P[ic]le. Plucke downe Formes, Windowes, any thing.

Exit Plebeians.

Ant. Now let it werke : Mifcheefe thou art a foot,
Take thou what course thou wilt.
How now Fellow ?

Enter Servant.

Ser. Sir, O Cætanius is already come to Rome.

Ant. Where is hee?

Ser. He and Lepidus are at Cæsars house.

Ant. And thither will I straight to visit him :

He comes vpon a wish. Fortune is merry,
And in this mood will giue vs any thing.

Ser. I heard him say, Brutus and Cætius

Aterid like Madmen through the Gates of Rome.

Ant. Belike they had fome notice of the people
How I had moued them. Bring me to O Cætanius. Exeunt

Enter Cinna the Poet, and after him the Plebeians.

Cinna. I dreamt to night, that I did feast with Cæsar,
And things unluckily charge my Fantafe :
Ihaue no will to wander forth of doores,
Yet something leads me fortho.

1. What is your name?

2. Whether are you going ?

3. Where do you dwell ?

4. Are you a married man, or a Batchellor ?

2. Anfwer every man directly.

1. I, and briefly.

3. I, and wifely.

3. I, and truly, you were beſt.

Cin. What is my name? Whether am I going? Where
do I dwell? Am I a married man, or a Batchellour ? Then
to anſwer every man, directly and briefly, wifely and
truly : wifely I say, I am a Batchellor.

2. That's as much as to ſay, they are fooles that mar-
rie: you'l beare me a bang for that I feare : proceede di-
redly.

Cinna. Directly I am going to Caſars Funerall.

1. As a Friend, or an Enemy?

Cinna. As a friend.

2. What matter is anſwered directly.

4. For your dwelling : briefly.

Cinna. Briefely, I dwell by the Capitoll.

3. Your name fir, truly.

Cinna. Truly, my name is Cinna.

1. Teare him to peeces, hee's a Conſpirator.

Cinna. I am Cinna the Poet, I am Cinna the Poet.

4. Teare him for his bad verſes, teare him for his bad
Verſes.

Cin. I am not Cinna the Conſpirator.

4. It is no matter, his name's Cinna, plucke but his
name out of his heart, and turne him going.

3. Teare him, tear him; Come Brands hoe, Firebrands:
to Brutus, to Cætius, burne all. Soime to Decius Houſe,
and ſome to Caska's; ſome to Ligarius: Away, go.

Exeunt all the Plebeians.

Actus Quartus.

Enter Antony, O Cætanius, and Lepidus.

Ant. Theſe many then ſhall die, their names are prickt
O Cæ. Your Brother too muſt dye: conſent you Lepidus?

Lep. I do conſent.

O Cæ. Pricke him downe Antony.

Lep. Vpon condition Publius ſhall not liue,
Who is your Sifters ſonne, Marke Antony.

Ant. He ſhall not liue; looke, with a ſpot I dam him,
But Lepidus, go you to Caſars house :

Fetch the Will hither, and we ſhall determine
How to cut off ſome charge in Legacies.

Lep. What? ſhall I finde you heere ?

O Cæ. O cheere, or at the Capitoll.

Exit Lepidus.

Ant. This is a flight vnmeritable man,
Meet to be ſent on Errands : is it fit

The three-fold World divided, he should ſtand,
One of the three to share it?

O Cæ. So you thought him,

And tooke his voyce who should be prickt to dye
In our blacke Sentence and Proſcription.

Ant. O Cætanius, I haue ſeene more days then you,
And though we lay theſe Honours on this man,
To eafe our ſelues of diuers ſlandrous loads,
He ſhall but beare them, as the Aſſe beares Gold,
To groane and ſwet vnder the Bufineſſe,

Either led or diuuen, as we point the way :
And hauing brought our Treafure, where we will,
Then take we downe his Load, and turne him off
(Like to the empty Aſſe) to thake his cares,

And graze in Commons.

O Cæ. You may do your will :
But hee's a tried, and valiant Souldier.

Ant. So is my Horſe O Cætanius, and for that
I do appoint him ſtore of Prouender.

It is a Creaſure that I teach to fight,
To winde, to ſtop, to run directly on :

His corporall Motion, governing by my Spirit,

And in ſome taſſe, is Lepidus but ſo :

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

A barren ſpirited Fellow; one that feeds

On Obieſts, Arts, and Imitations.

Which out of vſe, and ſtall'd by other men

Begin his fathion. Do not talke of him,

But as a property : and now O Cætanius,

Liffen great things. Brutus and Cætius

Are leuying Powers; We muſt straight make head :

Therefore let our Alliance be combin'd,

Our best Friends made, our meanses fletche, ]

And let vs preſently go ſit in Councell,

How couert matters may be beſt diſeſ'd,

And open Perils ſureſt anſwered.

O Cæ. Let vs do ſo : for we are at the ſake,

And

124.

And bayed about with many Enemies,
And some that smile haue in their hearts I feare
Millions of Mifcheefes.

Exeunt

Drum. Enter Brutus, Lucillius, and the Army.
Titinius and Pindarus meeſt them.

Bru. Stand ho.

Lucil. Giue the word ho, and Stand.

Bru. What now Lucillius, is Caffius neere ?

Lucil. He is at hand, and Pindarus is come

To do you salutation from his Maſter.

Bru. He greets me well. Your Maſter Pindarus
In his owne change, or by ill Officers,
Hath giuen me ſome worthy cauſe to wiſh
Things done, vndone : But if he be at hand
I ſhall be ſatified.

Pin. I do not doubt

But that my Noble Maſter will appeare

Such as he is, full of regard, and Honour.

Bru. He is not doubted. A word Lucillius

How he recei'd you : let me be refolu'd.

Lucil. With courteſe, and with reſpect enough,
But not with ſuch familiar inſtances,
Nor with ſuch free and friendly Conference
As he hath vs'd of old.

Bru. Thou haſt deſcrib'd

A hot Friend, cooling : Euer note Lucillius,
When Loue begins to ſicken and decay
It ſveth an enforced Ceremony.

There are no tricks, in plaine and ſimple Faith :
But hollow men, like Horſes hot at hand,
Make gallant ſhew, and promife of their Mettle :

Low March within.

But when they ſhould endure the bloody Spurre,
They fall their Creſts, and like deceitfull Iades
Sinke in the Triall. Comes his Army on?

Lucil. They meane this night in Sardis to be quarter'd:
The greater part, the Horſe in general
Are come with Caffius.

Enter Caffius and his Powers.

Bru. Hearke, he is arriu'd :

March gently on to meete him.

Caffi. Stand ho,

Bru. Stand ho, ſpeake the word along.

Stand.

Stand.

Stand.

Caffi. Moſt Noble Brother, you haue done me wrong.

Bru. Iudge me you Gods; wrong I mine Enemies?

And if not ſo, how ſhould I wrong a Brother.

Caffi. Brutus, this ſober forme of yours, hides wrongs,

And when you do them—

Bru. Caffius, be content,

Speake your greeſes ſoftly, I do know you well.

Before the eyes of both our Armies heere
(Which ſhould perceiue nothing but Loue from vs)
Let vs not wrangle. Bid them moue away :
Then in my Tent Caffius enlarge your Grieſes,
And I will giue you Audience.

Caffi. Pindarus,

Bid our Commanders leade their Charges off
A little from this ground.

Bru. Lucillius, do you the like, and let no man
Come to our Tent, till we haue done our Conſence.

Let Lucius and Titinius guard our doore.

Exeunt

Manet Brutus and Caffius.

Caffi. That you haue wrong'd me, doth appear in this
You haue condemn'd, and noted Lucius Pella
For taking Bribes heere of the Sardians 5
Wherein my Letters, praying on his ſide,
Because I knew the man was flighted off.

Bru. You wrong'd your ſelfe to write in ſuch a cafe
Caffi. In ſuch a time as this, it is not meet

That euery nice offence should beare his Comment.

Bru. Let me tell you Caffius, you your ſelfe
Are much condemn'd to haue an itching Palme,
To fell, and Mart your Offices for Gold
To Vndeferuers.

Caffi. I, an itching Palme?

You know that you are Brutus that ſpeakes this,
Or by the Gods, this ſpeech were eſſe your laſt.

Bru. The name of Caffius Honors this corruption,
And Chaſticement doth therefore hide his head.

Caffi. Chaſticement?

Bru. Remember March, the Ides of March remembe:
Did not great Iulius bleede for Iuſtice ſake?

What Villaine touch'd his body, that did ſtand,
And not for Iuſtice ? What? Shall one of Vs,
That ſtrucke the Formoſt man of all this World,
But for ſupporting Robbers : ſhall we now,
Contaminate our fingers, with bafe Bribes,
And fell the mighty ſpace of our large Honors
For ſo much traſh, as may be graſped thus?
I had rather be a Dogge, and bay the Moone,
Then ſuch a Roman.

Caffi. Brutus, bafe not me,

Ile not indure it : you forget your ſelfe

To hedge me in. I am a Souldier, I,

Older in practice, Abler then your ſelfe

To make Conditions.

Bru. Go too : you are not Caffius.

Caffi. I am.

Bru. I lay, you are not.

Caffi. Vrge me no more, I ſhall forget my ſelfe:
Haue minde vpon your health: Tempt me no farther.

Bru. Away flight man.

Caffi. Is't poſſible?

Bru. Heare me, for I will ſpeake.

Muſt I giue way, and roome to your traſh Choller?
Shall I be frighted, when a Madman flares?

Caffi. O ye Gods, ye Gods, Muſt I endure all this?

Bru. All this? I more : Fret till your proud hart break.

Go ſhew your Slaves how Chollerieke you are,
And make your Bondmen tremble. Muſt I bouge?
Muſt I obferue you ? Muſt I ſland and crouch
Under your Teſtie Humour ? By the Gods,
You ſhall diſeſt the Venom of your Spleene
Though it do Split you. For, from this day forth,
Ile vie you for my Mirth, yea for my Laughter
When you are Wapſiſh.

Caffi. Is it come to this?

Bru. You ſay, you are a better Souldier :
Let it appeare ſo; make your vaunning true,
And it ſhall pleafe me well. For raine owne part,
I ſhall be glad to learne of Noble men.

Caff. You wrong me euery way :

You wrong me Brutus :

I ſaide, an Elder Souldier, not a Better.

Did I ſay Better?

Bru. If you did, I care not.

Caff. When Caſsar liu'd, he durſt not thus haue moun
Brut. Peace, peace, you durſt not so haue tempted him.

126

Meff. My selfe haue Letters of the selfe-fame Tenure.

Bru. With what Addition.

Meff. That by proscription, and billes of Outlarie,
OEtania, Antony, and Lepidus,

Hae put to death, an hundred Senators.

Bru. Therein our Letters do not well agree:

Mine speake of ſeventy Senators, that dy'd
By their proſcriptions, Cicerò being one.

Caffi. Cicero one?

Meffa. Cicero is dead, and by that order of proſcription
Had you your Letters from your wife, my Lord?

Bru. No Meſſa.

Meffa. Nor nothing in your Letters writ of her?

Bru. Nothing Meſſala.

Meffa. That me thinkes is ſtrange.

Bru. Why aske you?

Heare you ought of her, in yours?

Meffa. No my Lord.

Meffa. Now as you are a Roman tell me true.

Meffa. Then like a Roman, beare the truth I tell,
For certaine ſhe is dead, and by ſtrange manner.

Bri. Why farewell Portia: We muſt die Meſſala:

With meditating that ſhe muſt dye once,
I haue the patience to endure it now.

Meffa. Euen so great men, great loſſes ſhold indure.

Caffi. I haue as much of this in Art as you,

But yet my Nature could not beare it so.

Bru. Well, to our worke aliue. What do you thinke
Of marching to Philippi prefentely.

Caffi. I do not thinke it good.

Bru. Your reaſon?

Caffi. This it is:

Tis better that the Enemie ſecke vs,
So shall he waſte his meanes, weary his Souldiers,

Doing himſelfe offence, whilſt we lying ſtill,
Are full of reſt, defence, and nimbleneſſe.

Bru. Good reaſons muſt of force giue place to better:

The people 'twixt Philippi, and this ground

Do ſtand but in a ſorc'd affection:

For they haue grug'd vs Contribution.

The Enemy, matching along by them,

By them ſhall make a fuller number vp,
Come on refrefht, new added, and encourag'd:

From which aduantage ſhall we cut him off.

If at Philippi we do face him there,

Theſe people at our backe.

Caffi. Heare me good Brother.

Bru. Under your pardon. You muſt note befide,
That we haue tride the vmoſt of our Friends :

Our Legions are brim full, our cauſe is ripe,

The Enemy encreaſeth euery day,

We at the height, are readie to decline.

There is a Tide in the affayres of men,

Which taken at the Flood, leades on to Fortune :

Omitted, all the voyage of their life,

Is bound in Shallowes, and in Miferies.

On ſuch a full Sea are we now a-float,

And we muſt take the current when it ſerues,

Or looke our Ventures.

Caffi. Then with your will go on: wee'l along
Our ſelues, and meet them at Philippi.

Bru. The deepe of night is crept vpon our talke,
And Nature muſt obey Necſſitie,
Which we will niggard with a little reſt:

There is no more to lay.

Caffi. No more, good night,

Early to morrow will we rife, and hence.

Enter Lucius.

Bru. Lucius my Gowne: farewell good Meſſala,
Good night Titinius: Noble, Noble Caffinus,
Good night, and good repofe.

Caffi. O my deere Brother:
This was an ill beginning of the night:
Neuer come such diuision t'weene our foules:
Let it not Brutus.

Enter Lucius with the Gowne.

Bru. Euerу thing is well.

Caffi. Good night my Lord.

Bru. Good night good Brother.

Tit. Meſſa. Good night Lord Bruttus.

Bru. Farwell euery one.

Gie me the Gowne. Where is thy Inſtrument?

Exemm.

Luo. Heere in the Tent.

Bru. What, thou speak'st drowſily?

Poore knaue I blame the not, thou art ore-watch'd,

Call Claudio, and some other of my men,

Ile haue them ſleepe on Cuſhions in my Tent,

Luc. Varrus, and Claudio.

Enter Varrus and Claudio.

Var. Cals my Lord?

Bru. I pray you firſ, lye in my Tent and ſleepe,
It may be I ſhall raſe you by and by

On busineſſe to my Brother Caffinus.

Var. So pleate you, we will ſtand,
And watch your pleasure.

Bru. I will it not haue it ſo: Lye downe good firſ,
It may be I ſhall otherwife bethinke me.

Looke Lucius, heere's the booke I fought for ſo:

I put it in the pocket of my Gowne.

Luc. I was ſure your Lordship did not giue it me.

Bru. Beare with me good Boy, I am much forgetfull.

Canſt thou hold vp thy heaune eyes a-while,
And touch thy Inſtrument a ſtraine or two.

Luc. I my Lord, an't pleafe you.

Bru. It does my Boy:

I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing.

Luc. It is my duchy Sir.

Bru. I should not vge thy duty paſt thy might,
I know yong bloods looke for a time of reſt.

Luc. I haue flept my Lord already.

Bru. It was well done, and thou ſhalt ſleepe againe:
I will not hold thee long. If I do lie,
I will be good to thee.

Mufſicke, and a Song.

This is a ſleepy Tune: O Murd'rous flumbler!

Layeth thou thy Leaden Mace vpon my Boy,

That playes thee Mufſicke ? Gentle knaue good night:
I will not do thee ſo much wrong to wake thee:

If thou do'ſt nod, thou break'ſt thy Inſtrument,

Ile take it from thee, and (good Boy) good night.

Let me ſee, let me ſee; is not the Leafe turn'd downe

Where I left reading ? Heere it is I thinke.

Enter the Ghoſt of Caſear.

How ill this Taper burnes. Ha! Who comes heere?

I thinke it is the weakeneſſe of mine eyes

That ſhapes this monſtrous Apparition.

It comes vpon me: Art thou any thing?

Art thou ſome God, ſome Angell, or ſome Diuell,

That mak'ſt my blood cold, and my haire to flare?

Speake to me, what thou art.

Ghoſt Thy euill Spirit Bruttus?

Bru. Why corſ't thou?

Ghoſt.

The Tragedie of Julius Cæsar.

Who to Philippi heere conforted vs:
This Morning are they fled away, and gone,
And in their needs, do Rauens, Crowes, and Kites
Fly ore our heads, and downward looke on vs
As we were fickely prey; their shadowes feme
A Canopy moft fatall, vnder which
Our Army lies, ready to giue vp the Ghoft.

Messa. Beelen not so.

Caffi. I but beleeve it partly,
For I am fresh of spirit, and refolu'd
To meete all perils, very conſtantly.

Bru. Euen so Lucilius.

Caffi. Now moſt Noble Brutus,
The Gods to day ſtand friendly, that we may
Louers in peace, leade on our dayes to age.
But ſince the affayres of men reſts ſtill incertaine,
Let's reaſon with the worſt that may befall.

If we do loſe this Battaille, then is this
The very laſt time we ſhall ſpeake together :
What are you then determined to do ?

Bru. Euen by the rule of that Philofophy,
By which I did blame Cato, for the death
Which he did giue himſelfe, I know not how :
But I do finde it Cowardly, and vile,
For ſeare of what might fall, ſo to preuent
The time of life, arming my ſelfe with patience,
To ſlay the prouidence of ſome high Powers,
That gouerne vs below.

Caffi. Then, if we looke this Battaille,
You are contented to be led in Triumph
Thorow the freets of Rome.

Bru. No Caffius, no :

Thinke not thou Noble Romane,
That euer Brutus will go bound to Rome,
He beares too great a minde. But this ſame day
Muſt end that worke, the Ides of March begun.
And whether we ſhall meete againe, I know not :
Therefore our euerlaſting farewell take :
For euer, and for euer, farewell Caffius,
If we do meete againe, why we ſhall ſmile ;
If not, why then this parting was well made.

Caffi. For euer, and for euer, farewell Brutus :
If we do meete againe, wee'l ſmile indeede ;
If not, 'tis true, this parting was well made.

Bru. Why then leade on. O that a man might know
The end of this dayes busineſſe, ere it come :
But it ſufficeth, that the day will end,
And then the end is knowne. Come ho, away. Exeunt.

Alarum. Enter Brutus and Messala.

Bru. Ride, ride Messala, ride and giue theſe Billes
Vnto the Legions, on the other ſide.

Lowd Alarum.

Let them ſet on at once : for I perceiue
But cold dermeanor in Oſtanio's wing :
And ſodaine puſh giues them the ouerthrow :
Ride, ride Messala, let them all come downe.

Exeunt

Alarums.

Enter Caffius and Titinius.

Caffi. O looke Titinius, looke, the Villaines flye :
My ſelfe haue to mine owne turn'd Enemy :
This Enſigne heere of mine was turning backe :
I ſlew the Coward, and did take it from him.

Titin. O Caffius, Brutus gaue the word too early,

Who hauing ſome aduantage on Octanius,
Tooke it too eagerly : his Soldiers ſell to ſpoyle,
Whilft we by Antony are all inclos'd.

Enter Pindarus.

Pind. Fly further off my Lord : flye further off,
Mark Antony is in your Tents my Lord :
Flye therefore Noble Caffius, flye farre off.

Caffi. This Hill is farre enough. Looke, look Titinius.
Are those my Tents where I perceiue the fire?

Tit. They are, my Lord.

Caffi. Titinius, if thou loueſt me,
Mount thou my horſe, and hide thy spurres in him,
Till he haue brought thee vp to yonder Troopes
And heere againe, that I may reſt affur'd
Whether yond Troopes, are Friend or Enemy.

Tit. I will be heere againe, euen with a thought. Exit.

Caffi. Go Pindarus, get higher on that hill,
My fight was euer thicke: regard Titinius,
And tell me what thou not'ſt about the Field,
This day I breathed firſt, Time is come round,
And where I did begin, there ſhall I end,
My life is run his compaſſe. Sirra, what newes?

Pind. Aboue. O my Lord.

Caffi. What newes?

Pind. Titinius is encloſed round about
With Horſemen, that make to him on the Spurres,
Yet he spurres on. Now they are almost on him :
Now Titinius. Now ſome light: O he lights too.
Hee's tane. Showt.

And hearke, they ſhout for ioy.
Caffi. Come downe, behold no more :

O Coward that I am, to lie ſo long,
To fee my beſt Friend tane before my face.

Enter Pindarus.

Come hither firraſ: In Parthia did I take thee Pritoner,
And then I ſwore thee, ſauing of thy life,
That whatſoever I did bid thee do,
Thou ſhould'ſt attempt it. Come now, keepe thine oath,
Now be a Free-man, and with this good Sword
That ran through Caſars bowels, ſearch this boſome,
Stand not to anſwer: Heere, take thou the Hilts,
And when my face is couer'd, as 'tis now,
Guide thou the Sword. —— Cæsar, thou art reueng'd,
Euen with the Sword that kill'd thee.

Pin. So, I am free,
Yet would not ſo haue beene
Durſt I haue done my will. O Caffius,
Farre from this Country Pindarus ſhall run,
Where neuer Roman ſhall take note of him.

Enter Titinius and Messala.

Messa. It is but change, Titinius: for Octanius
Is ouerthrowne by Noble Brutus power,
As Caffius Legions are by Antony.

Titin. These tydings will well comfort Caffius.
Messa. Where did you leaue him.

Titin. All disconſolate,
With Pindarus his Bondman, on this Hill.
Messa. Is not that he that lyes vpon the ground?

Titin. He lies not like the Liuing. O my heart!
Messa. Is not that hee ?
Titin. No, this was he Messala.

But Caffius is no more. O fetting Sunne :

As in thy red Rayes thou doſt ſinke to night!

So

The Tragedie of Julius Cæsar.

Cly. Fly, flye my Lord, there is no tarrying heree.

Bru. Farewell to you, and you, and you Voluminmus.

Strato, thou haſt bin all this while afleepe:
Farewell to thee, to Strato, Countrymen:
My heart doth ioy, that yet in all my life,
I found no man, but he was true to me.

I shall hane glory by this loofing day
More then Octauus, and Marke Antony,

By this vile Conqueſt shall entraine vnto.

So fare you well at once, for Brutus tongue
Hath almost ended his lues Hiftory:

Night bangs vpon mine eyes, my Bones would reſt,
That haue but labour'd, to attaine this houre.

Alarum. Cry within, Flye, flye, flye.

Cly. Fly my Lord, flye.

Bru. Hence: I will follow:

I prythee 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 turne away thy face,

While I do run vpon it. Wilt thou Strato ?

Stra. Giue me your hand firſt. Fare you well my Lord.

Bru. Farewell good Strato. — Cæsar, now be still,
I kill'd not thee with halfe so good a will.

Alarum. Rerreat. Enter Antony, Octauus, Meſſala,
Lucillius, and the Army.

Octa. What man is that?

Messa. My Maſters man. Strato, where is thy Maſter?

Stra. Free from the Bondage you are in Meſſala,
The Conquerors can but make a fire of him:

For Brutus onely ouercame himſelfe,
And no man elfe hath Honor by his death.

Lucil. So Brutus should be found. I thank thee Brutus
That thou haſt prou'd Lucillius ſaying true,

Octa. All that ſeru'd Brutus, I will entertaine them.

Fellow, wilt thou beſtow thy time with me?

Stra. I, if Meſſala will preferre me to you.

Octa. Do so, good Meſſala.

Messa. How dyed my Maſter Strato?

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

Messa. Octauus, then take him to follow thee,
That did the latest ſeruice to my Maſter.

Ant. This was the Nobleft Roman of them all:
All the Conspirators ſaue onely hee,
Did that they did, in enuy of great Cæsar:
He, onely in a generall honest thought,
And common good to all, made one of them.
His life was gentle, and the Elements
So mixt in him, that Nature might ſtand vp,
And ſay to all the world; This was a man.

Octa. According to his Vertue, let vs vſe him
Withall Reſpect, and Rites of Buriall.
Within my Tent his bones to night ſhall ly,
Moſt like a Souldier ordered Honourably:
So call the Field to reſt, and let's away,
To part the glories of this happy day.

Exeunt committ.

FINIS.

# THE TRAGEDIE OF MACBETH.

## Altus Primus. Scena Prima.

Thunder and Lightning. Enter three Witches.

1.

Hen shall we three meet againe?

In Thunder, Lightning, or in Raine?

2. When the Hurley-burley's done,
When the Batraile's loft, and wonne.

3. That will be ere the Act of Sunne.

1. Where the place?

2. Vpon the Heath.

3. There to meet with Macbeth.

1. I come, Gray-Malkin.

All. Padock calls anon: faire is foule, and foule is faire,
Houer through the fogge and filthie ayre. Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Alarum within. Enter King Malcolm, Donal-baine, Lenox, with attendants, meeting a bleeding Captain.

King. What bloody man is that? he can report,
As feemeth by his plight, of the Revolt
The newest state.

Mal. This is the Serieant,

Who like a good and hardie Souldier fought
'Gainst my Captiuitie: Haile braue friend;
Say to the King, the knowledge of the Broyle,

As thou didst leaue it.

Cap. Doubtfull it flood,

Astwo spent Swimmers, that doe cling together,
And choake their Art: The mercileſſe Macdonwald
(Worthie to be a Rebell, for to that
The multiplying Villanies of Nature

Doe (swarme vpon him) from the Wefterne Ifles
Of Kernes and Gallowgroſſes is ſupply'd,

And Fortune on his damned Quarrie ſmiling,

Shew'd like a Rebells Whore: but all's too weake:
For braue Macbeth (well hee deferues that Name)

Difdayning Fortune, with his brandiſht Steele,
Which ſmoak'd with bloody execution
(Like Valours Minion) caru'd out his paſſage,

Till hee fac'd the Slave:

Which neuer ſhooke hands, nor bad farwell to him,

Till he vnfeam'd him from the Naue toth' Chops,
And fix'd his Head vpon our Battlements.

King. O valiant Couſin, worthy Gentleman.

Cap. As whence the Sunne 'gins his reflection,

Shipwracking Stormes, and direfull Thunders:

So from that Spring, whence comfort seem'd to come,
Difcomfort ſwells: Marke King of Scotland, marke,

No sooner Iuſtice had, with Valour arm'd,
Compell'd theſe skipping Kernes to truſt their heeles,

But the Norwegian Lord, ſurreyuing vantage,

With furbish'd Armes, and new ſupplyes of men,
Began a fresh ſtault.

King. Difmay'd not this our Captaines, Macbeth and Banquoh?

Cap. Yes, as Sparrowes, Eagles;

Or the Hare, the Lyon:

If I ſay foot, I muſt report they were

As Cannons ouer-charg'd with double Cracks,

So they doubly redoubled ſtoakes vpon the Foe:

Except they meant to bathe in reeking Wounds,

Or memorize another Golgotha,

I cannot tell: but I am faint,

My Gathes cry for helpe.

King. So well thy words become thee, as thy wounds,
They imack of Honor both: Goe get him Surgeons,

Enter Roffe and Angus.

Who comes here?

Mal. The worthy Thane of Roffe.

Lenox. What a hafe looks through his eyes?

So ſhould he looke, that feemes to ſpeake things ſtrange.

Roffe. God faue the King.

King. Whence cam't thou, worthy Thane?

Roffe. From Fiffe, great King,

Where the Norweyan Banners flowt the Skie,

And fanne our people cold,

Norway himſelfe, with terrible numbers,

Aſſisted by that moſt diſloyall Traytor,

The Thane of Cawdor, began a diſmall Conflict,

Till that Bellona's Bridegroome, lapt in proofe,

Confronted him with ſelſe-comparifons,

Point againſt Point, rebellious Arme 'gainſt Arme,

Curbing his lauſh, Spirit: and to conclude,

The Victorie fell on vs.

King. Great happinesſe.

Roffe. That now, Sweno, the Norwayes King,

Craues compoſition:

Nor would we deigne him buriall of his men,

Till he disbursed, at Saint Calmes ynch,

Ten thouſand Dollars, to our generall vſe.

King. No

The Tragedie of Macbeth.

132

King. No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive Our Bofome intereſt: Goe pronounce his preſent death, And with his former Title greet Macbeth.

Roffe. Hee ſee it done.

King. What he hath loſt, Noble Macbeth hath wonne.
Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Thunder. Enter the three Witches.

1. Where haſt thou beene, Sifter ?

2. Killing Swine.

3. Sifter, where thou ?

1. A Sayers Wife had Cheſnuts in her Lappe,
And mouncht, & mouncht, and mouncht:
Giuſe me, quoth I.

Aroynt thee, Witch, the rumpet-fed Ronyon cryes.
Her Husband's to Aleppo gone, Maſter o'ch' Tiger:
But in a Syue Ile thither ſayle,
And like a Rat without a tayle,
Ile doe, Ile doe, and Ile doe.

2. Ile giue thee a Winde.

3. Th'art kinde.

3. Aud I another.

1. I my ſelſe haue all the other,
And the very Ports they blow,
All the Quarters that they know,
Ith' Ship-mans Card.

Ile dreyne him drie as Hay:
Sleepe (haſt neyther Night nor Day
Hang vpon his Pent-houſe Lid :
He ſhall liue a man forbid:
Wearie Seu'nights, nine times nine,
Shall he dwindle, peake, and pine :
Though his Barke cannot be loſt,
Yet it ſhall be Tempeſt-toſt.
Looke what I haue.

2. Shew me, ſhew me.

1. Here I haue a Pilots Thumbe,
Wrackt, as homeward he did come.

Drum within.

3. A Drumme, a Drumme:

Macbeth doſh come.

All. The weyward Sifters, hand in hand,
Poſters of the Sea and Land,
Thus doe goe, about, about,
Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,
And thrice againe, to make vp nine.
Peace, the Charme's wound vp.

Enter Macbeth and Banquo.

Macb. So foule and faire a day I haue not ſene.

Banquo. How farre is't call'd to ſoris? What are theſe,
So wither'd, and fo wilde in their attyre,
That looke not like th'Inhabitants o'th'Earth,
And yet are on't? Liue you, or are you aught
That man may queſtion ? you ſeeme to vnderstand me,
By each at once her choppie finger laying
Vpon her skinnie Lips: you ſhould be Women,
And yet your Beards forbid me to interprete
That you are so.

Mac. Speake if you can: what are you ?

1. All haile Macbeth, haile to thee, Thane of Glamis.

2. All haile Macbeth, haile to thee, Thane of Cawdor.

3. All haile Macbeth, that ſhalt be King hereafter.

Banqu. Good Sir, why doe you ſtart, and ſeeme to ſeare
Things that doe found ſo faire ? i' the name of truth
Are ye ſantasticall, or that indeed

Which outwardly ye ſhew? My Noble Partner
You greet with preſent Grace, and great prediction
Of Noble hauing, and of Royall hope,
That he ſeemes wrapt withall: to me you ſpeake not,
If you can looke into the ſeedes of Time,
And ſay, which Graine will grow, and which will not,
Speake then to me, who neyther begge, nor ſeare
Your fauors, nor your hate.

1. Hayle.

2. Hayle.

3. Hayle.

1. Leſſer then Macbeth, and greater.

2. Not ſo happy, yet much happyer.

3. Thou ſhalt get Kings, though thou be none:
So all haile Macbeth, and Banquo.

1. Banquo, and Macbeth, all haile.

Macb. Stay you imperfect Speakers, tell me more:
By Sinells death, I know I am Thane of Glamis,
But how, of Cawdor? the Thane of Cawdor liues
A proſperous Gentleman: And to be King,
Stands not within the prouſe of beheefe,
No more then to be Cawdor. Say from whence
You owe this ſtrange Intelligence, or why
Vpon this blaſted Heath you ſtop our way
With ſuch Prophetike greeting?

Speake, I charge you.

Witches vaniflo.

Banq. The Earth hath bubbles, as the Water ha's,
And theſe are of them: whither are they vanifli'd?

Macb. Into the Ayre: and what ſeem'd corporall,
Melted, as breath into the Winde.
Would they had ſtay'd.

Banq. Were ſuch things here, as we doe ſpeake about,
Or haue we eaten on the infane Root,
That takes the Reafon Prifoner ?

Macb. Your Children ſhall be Kings.

Banq. You ſhall be King.

Macb. And Thane of Cawdor too: went it not to?

Banq. Toth' ſelſe-fame tune, and words: who's here?

Enter Roffe and Angu.

Roffe. The King hath happily recei'd, Macbeth,
The newes of thy ſuccesse: and when he reades
Thy perſonall Venture in the Rebels fight,
His Wonders and his Prayſes doe contend.
Which ſhould be thine, or his: ſilenc'd with that,
In viewing o're the reſt o'th' ſelſe-fame day,
He findes thee in the ſout Norweyan Rankes,
Nothing aſeard of what thy ſelſe didſt make
Strange Images of death, as thick as Tale
Can poſt with poſt, and euery one did beare
Thy Prayſes in his Kingdomes great defence,
And powr'd them downe before him.

Ang. Wee are ſent,
To give thee from our Royall Maſter thanks,
Onely to harrold thee into his fight,
Not pay thee.

Roffe. And for an earneſt of a greater Honor,
He bad me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor:

In

The Tragedie of Macbeth.

In which addition, haile moft worthy Thane,
For it is thine.

Banq. What, can the Deuill speake true?

Mach. The Thane of Cawdor liues:

Why doe you drefse me in borrowed Robes?

Ang. Who was the Thane, liues yet,
But vnder heauie Judgement beares that Life,
Which he defueres to loofe.

Whether he was combin'd with thofe of Norway,
Or did lyne the Rebell with hidden helpe,

And vantage; or that with both he labour'd
In his Countreyes wracke, I know not:
But Treaſons Capitall, confefſ'd, and prou'd,
Hauë ouerthrowne him.

Mach. Glamys, and Thane of Cawdor:
The greatest is behinde. Thankes for your paines,
Doe you not hope your Children ſhall be Kings,
When thofe that gaue the Thane of Cawdor to me,
Promis'd no leſſe to them.

Banq. That truſted home,
Might yet enkindle you vnto the Crowne,
Befides the Thane of Cawdor. But 'tis ſtrange:
And oftentimes, to winne vs to our harme,

The Inſtruments of Darkneſſe tell vs Truths,
Winne vs with honet Trifles, to betray's
In deepeſt conſequence.

Cousins, a word, I pray you.

Mach. Two Truths are told,

As happy Prologues to the ſwelling Act
Of the Imperiall Theame. I thanke you Gentlemen:
This ſupernatural ſolliciting
Cannot be ill; cannot be good.

If ill? why hath it giuen me earneſt of ſucceſſe,
Commencing in a Truth: I am Thane of Cawdor.

If good? why doe I yeeld to that ſuggeſtion,
Whose horrid Image doth vnfixe my Heire,
And make my ſeated Heart knock at my Ribbes,
Against the vſe of Nature? Prefent Feares

Are leſſe then horrible Imaginings:

My Thought, whose Murther yet is but ſantaſtically,
Shakes ſo my ſingle ſtate of Man,
That Function is ſmother'd in ſurlife,

And nothing is, but what is not.

Banq. Looke how our Partner's rapt.

Mach. If Chance will haue me King,
Why Chance may Crowne me,

Without my ſirre.

Banq. New Honors come vpon him

Like our ſtrange Garments, cleaue not to their mould,
But with the aid of vſe.

Mach. Come what come may,

Time, and the Houre, runs through the rougheſt Day.

Banq. Worthy Macbeth, wee flay vpon your ley-
ture.

Mach. Giue me your fauour:

My dall Braine was wrought with things ſorgotten.

Kinde Gentlemen, your paines are registred,
Where every day I turne the Leafe,
To reade them.

Let vs toward the King: thinke vpon

What hath chanc'd: and at more time,

The Interim hauing weigh'd it, let vs ſpeak

Our ſice Hearts each to other.

Banq. Very gladly.

Mach. Till then enough:
Come friends.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

Flourish.
Enter King, Lenox, Malcolm,
Donalbaine, and Attendants.

King. Is execution done on Cawdor?

Or not thofe in Commiffion yet return'd?

Mal. My Liege, they are not yet come back.

But I haue ſpoke with one that faw him die:

Who did report, that very frankly hee

Confefſ'd his Treaſons, implor'd your Highneſſe Pardon,
And fet forth a deepe Repentance:

Nothing in his Life became him,

Like the leauing it. Hee dy'd,

As one that had beene ſtudied in his death,

To throw away the deareſt thing he ow'd,

As 'twere a careleſſe Trifle.

King. There's no Art,

To find the Mindes conſtruction in the Face:

He was a Gentleman, on whom I built

An absolute Truſt.

Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Roffe, and Angus.

O worthyeſt Couſin,

The ſinne of my Ingratitude euen now

Was heauie on me. Thou art ſo farre before,

That ſwiftſte Wing of Recompence is flow,

To ouertake thee. Would thou hadt leſſe deferu'd,

That the proportion both of thanks, and payment,

Might haue beene mine: onely I haue left to ſay,

More is thy due, then more then all can pay.

Mach. The ſeruice, and the loyaltie Iowe,
In doing it, payes it ſelfe.

Your Highneſſe part, is to receiue our Duties:

And our Duties are to your Throre, and State,

Children, and Seruants; which doe but what they should

By doing euery thing ſafe toward your Loue

And Honor.

King. Welcome hither:

I haue begun to plant thee, and will labour

To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo,

That haſt no leſſe deferu'd, nor muſt be knowne

No leſſe to haue done to: Let me enfold thee,

And hold thee to my Heart.

Banq. There if I grow,

The Harueſt is your owne.

King. My plenteaus Ioyes,

Wanton in ſulneſſe, ſeeke to hide them ſelues

In drops of ſorrow. Sonnes, Kinſmen, Thanes,

And you whose places are the neareſt, know,

We will eſtablish our Eſtate vpon

Our eldeſt, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter,

The Prince of Cumberland: which Honor muſt

Not vnaccompanied, inueſt him onely,

But ſignes of Noblenſe, like Starres, ſhall ſhine

On all deſuerers. From hence to Envernes,

And binde vs further to you.

Mach. The Reſt is Labor, which is not vs'd for you:

Ile be my ſelfe the Herbeuger, and make joyfull

The hearing of my Wife, with your approach:

So humbly take my leaue.

King. My worthy Cawdor.

Mach. The Prince of Cumberland: that is a ſtep,
On which I muſt fall downe, or eſſe o're-leape,

mm

For

The Tragedie of Macbeth.

King. Where's the Thane of Cawdor?

We courst him at the heeles, and had a purpose
To be his Purueyor: But he rides well,
And his great Loue (harpe as his Spurre)hath holp him
To his home before vs: Faire and Noble Hoſſeſſe
We are your gueſt to night.

La. Your Servants euer,

Hauetheirs, themſelues, and what is theirs in compt,
To make their Audit at your Highneſſe pleasure,
Still to returne your owne.

King. Giue me your hand :

Conducte to mine Hoſt we loue him highly,
And ſhall continue, our Graces towards him.
By your leaue Hoſſeſſe.

Exeunt

## Scena Septima.

Ho-boyes. Torches.

Enter a Sewer, and diners Servants with Dishes and Service
over the Stage. Then enter Macbeth.

Macb. If it were done, when'tis done, then 'twer well,
It were done quickly: If'th'Affaffination
Could trammell vp the Conſequence, and catch
With his ſurceafe, Succeſſe: that but this blow
Might be the be all, and the end all. Heere,
But heere, vpon this Banke and Schoole of time,
Wee'd iumpe the life to come. But in these Cafes,
We still haue iudgement heere, that we but teach
Bloody Inſtructions, which being taught, returne
To plague th'Inuenter. This euen-handed Iuſtice
Commends th'Ingredience of our poyſon'd Challice
To our owne lips. Hec's heere in double truſt;
First, as I am his Kieſman, and his Subieſt,
Strong both againſt the Deed: Then, as his Hoſt,
Who should againſt his Murtherer ſhut the door,
Not beare the knife my ſelfe. Befides, this Duncane
Hath borne his Faculties ſo meekely; hath bin
So cleere in his great Office, that his Vertues
Will pleade like Angels, Trumpet-tongu'd againſt
The deepe damnation of his taking off :

And Pitty, like a naked New-borne-Babe,
Striding the blast, or Heauens Cherubin, hors'd
Vpon the fightlesſeCURRIORS of the Ayre,
Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,
That teares ſhall drowne the winde. I haue no Spurre
To pricke the ſides of my intent, but onely
Vaulting Ambition, which ore-Jeapes it ſelfe,

And falles on th'other.
How now? What Newes?

Enter Lady.

La. He has almost ſuſt: why haue you left the chamber ?

Macb. Hath he ask'd for me?

La. Know you not, he ha's ?

Macb. We will proceed no further in this Busineſſe:
He hath Honour'd me of late, and I haue bought
Golden Opinions from all forts of people,
Which would be worne now in their neweſt gloſſe,
Not caſt alſide ſo loone.

La. Was the hope drunke,

Wherein you dreaſt your ſelfe? Hath it ſlept ſince ?

And wakes it now to looke ſo greene, and pale,
At what it did ſo freely ? From this time,
Such I account thy loue. Art thou affar'd?

To be the fame in thine owne Aſt, and Valour,
As thou art in desire ? Would it thou haue that

Which thou eſteem'ſt the Ornament of Life,
And liue a Coward in thine owne Eſteeme ?

Letting I dare not, wait upon I would,
Like the poore Cat i'th'Addage.

Macb. Prythee peace :

I dare do all that may become a matſt,
Who dares no more, is none.

La. What Beaſt was't then

That made you breake this enterprize to me ?

When you durſt do it, then you were a man :

And to be more then 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 haue made themſelues, and that their ſinſeſſe now

Do's vnmake you. I haue guen Sucke, and know

How tender'tis to loue the Babe that milkes me,

I would, while it was ſmyling in my Face,

Haua pluckt my Nipple from his Boneleſſe Gummes,

And daſſt the Brainſa out, had I ſo worne

As you haue done to this.

Macb. If we ſhould faile ?

Lady. We faile ?

But ſcrew your courage to the flticking place,

And weele not ſayle: when Duncane is aſſeape,
(Whereeto the rather ſhall his dayes hard Journey

Soundly inuire him) his two Chamberlaines

Will I with Wine, and Waffell, ſo conumce,

That Memorie, the Warder of the Braine,

Shall be a Fume, and the Receit of Reaſon

A Lymbeck onely: when in Swinſiſh ſleepe,

Their drenched Natures lyes as in a Death,

What cannot you and I performe vpon

Th'unguarded Duncane? What not put vpon

His ſpungie Officers? who ſhall beare the guilt

Of our great quell.

Macb. Bring forth Men-Children onely:

For thy vndaunted Mettle ſhould compoſe

Nothing but Males. Will it not be receiu'd,

When we haue mark'd with blood that ſleepie two

Of his owne Chamber, and vs'd their very Daggers,

That they haue don't?

Lady. Who dares receiue it other,

As we ſhall make our Griefes and Clamor core,

Vpon his Death?

Macb. I am ſeettled, and bend vp

Each corporall Agent to this terrible Fear.

Away, and mock the time with faireſt ſhow,

False Face muſt hide what the false Heart doth know.

Exeunt.

Enter Banquo, and Fleance, with a Torch before him.

Banqu. How goes the Night, Boy ?

Fleance. The Moone is downe: I haue not heard the
Clock.

Banqu. And ſhe goes downe at Twelue.

Fleance. I take't, 'tis later, Sir.

Banqu. Hold, take my Sword :

There's Husbandry in Heauen,

Their Candles are all out: take thee that too.

mm 2

A

The Tragedie of Macbeth.

A heauie Summons lyes like Lead vpon me,
And yet I would not sleepe:

Merciful Powers, refraine in me the curled thoughts
That Nature giues way to in repofe.

Enter Macbeth, and a Servant with a Torch.

Giuе me my Sword: who's there?

Mach. A Friend.

Banq. What Sir, not yet at reft? the King's a bed.

He hath beene in vnfuall Pleasure,
And sent forth great Largeſſe to your Offices,
This Diamond he greets your Wife withall,
By the name of moſt kind Hofteſſe,
And ſhut vp in meaſurelleſſe content.

Mac. Being vnprepar'd,

Our will became the feruant to defect,
Which eſſe should free haue wrought.

Banq. All's well.

I dreamt laſt Night of the three veyward Sifters:
To you they haue ſhew'd ſome truth.

Macb. I thinke not of them :

Yet when we can entreat an houre to ſerue,
We would ſpend it in ſome words vpon that Buſineſſe,
If you would graunt the time.

Banq. At your kind ſt leſſure,

Macb. If you ſhall cleaue to my conſent,
When'tis, it ſhall make Honor for you.

Banq. So I loſe none,

In ſeeking to augment it, but ſill keepe
My Boſome ſfranchis'd, and Allegiance cleare,
I ſhall be counſail'd.

Macb. Good repofe the while.

Banq. Thanks Sir: the like to you.

Exit Banquo.

Macb. Goe bid thy Mifſtreſſe, when my drinke is ready,
She ſtrike vpon the Bell. Get thee to bed.

Is this a Dagger, which I fee before me,
The Handle toward my Hand? Come, let me clutch thee:
I haue thee not, and yet I fee thee ſtill.

Art thou not fatall Vifion, ſenſible

To feeling, as to fight? or art thou but

A Dagger of the Minde, a ſale Creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed Braine

I fee thee yet, in forme as palpable,
As this which now I draw.

Thou marſhall't me the way that I was going,
And fuch an Inſtrument I was to vſe.

Mine Eyes are made the fooles o'th'other Sences,
Or eſſe worth all the reſt: I fee thee ſtill;

And on thy Blade, and Dudgeon, Gouts of Blood,
Which was not ſo before. There's no ſuchthine:

It is the bloody Buſineſſe, which informes
Thus to mine Eyes. Now o're the one halſe World
Nature ſeemes dead, and wicked Dreames abufe
The Curtain'd ſleepe: Witchcraft celebrates.

Pale Heccats Offrings: and wither'd Murther,
Alarum'd by his Centinell, the Wolfe,

Whose howle's his Watch, thus with his ſtealthy pace,
With Tarquins rauiſhing fides, towards his deſigne

Moues like a Ghouſt. Thou ſowre and firme-ſet Earth
Heare not my ſteps, which they may walke, for ſeare
Thy very ſlones prate of my where-about,

And take the preſent horror from the time,

Which now ſutes with it. Whileſ I threat, he liues:
Words to the heat of deedes too cold breath giues,

A Bell rings.

I goc, and it is done: the Bell inuites me.
Heare it not, *Duncan*, for it is a Knell,
That ſummons thee to Heauen, or to Hell.

Exit.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Lady.

La. That which hath made the drunk, hath made me bold:
What hath quench'd them, hath giuen me fire.

Hearke, peace: it was the Owle that ſhriek'd,
The fatall Bell-man, which giues the ſtern't good-night:
He is about it, the Doores are open :

And the ſurfetted Groomes doe mock their charge
With Snores. I haue drugg'd their Poffets,
That Death and Nature doe contend about them,
Whether they liue, or dye.

Enter Macbeth.

Macb. Who's there? what hoa?

Lady. Alack, I am afraid they haue awak'd,
And'tis not done: th'attempt, and not the deed,
Confounds vs: hearke: I lay'd their Daggers ready,
He could not miſſe 'em. Had he not reſembled
My Father as he ſlept, I had don't.

My Husband?

Macb. I haue done the deed :

Did it thou not heare a noyſe?

Lady. I heard the Owle ſchreame, and the Crickets cry.

Did not you ſpeake?

Macb. When?

Lady. Now.

Macb. As I deſcended?

Lady. I.

Macb. Hearke, who lyes i'th' ſecond Chamber?

Lady. Donalbaine.

Macb. This is a ſorry ſight.

Lady. A ſooliſh thought, to ſay a ſorry ſight.

Macb. There's one did laugh i'n's ſleepe,

And one cry'd Murther, that they did wake each other:
I ſlood, and heard them : But they did ſay their Prayers,
And addreſt them againe to ſleepe.

Lady. There are two lodg'd together.

Macb. One cry'd God bleſſe vs, and Amen the other,
As they had ſeene me with theſe Hangmans hands:
Liftning their ſeare, I could not ſay Amen,
When they did ſay God bleſſe vs.

Lady. Confider it not so deeply.

Macb. But wherefore could not I pronounce Amen?

I had moſt need of Bleſſing, and Amen ſuck in my throat.
After theſe wayes, so, it will make vs mad.

Macb. Me thought I heard a voyce cry, Sleep no more;

Macbeth does murther Sleepe, the innocent Sleepe,
Sleepe that knits vp the rauel'd Sleeue of Care,
The death of each dayes Life, before Labors Bath,
Balme of hurt Mindes, great Natures ſecond Courte,
Chieſe nouriſher in Life's Feaſt.

Lady. What do you meane?

Macb. Still it cry'd, Sleepe no more to all the Hoone:
Glamis hath murther'd Sleepe, and therefore Caudor
Shall ſleepe no more: Macbeth shall ſleepe no more.

Lady. Who was it, that thus cry'd? why worthy Thame,
You doe vnbind your Noble strength, to thirke,
So braine-fickly of things: Goe get ſame Water,
And

The Tragedie of Macbeth.

137

And was this filchie Wneffle from your Hand.
Why did you bring these Daggers from the place?
They must lye there: goe carry them, and I meare
The fleepie Groomes with blood.

Macb. Ile goe no more:

I am afraid, to thinke what I haue done:
Looke on't againe, I dare not.

Lady. Infirme of purpofe:

Gie me the Daggers: the fleeping, and the dead,
Are but as Pictures: 'tis the Eye of Child-hood,
That feares a painted Deuill. If he doe bleed,
Ile gild the Faces of the Groomes withall,
For it must feeme their Guilt.

Exit.

Knocke within,

Macb. Whence is that knocking?

How is't with me, when every noyfe appalls me?
What Hands are here? hah: they pluck out mine Eyes.
Will all great Neptunes Ocean wash this blood
Cleane from my Hand? no: this my Hand will rather
The multitudinous Seas incarnardine,
Making the Greene one, Red,

Enter Lady.

Lady. My Hands are of your colour: but I shame
To weare a Heart so white.

Knocke.

Iheare a knocking at the South entry:
Retyre we to our Chamber:

A little Water cleares vs of this deed.

How eafie is it then? your Confancie
Hath left you vnattended.

Knocke.

Heatke, more knocking.

Get on your Night-Gowne, leaft occasion call vs,
And flew vs to be Watchers: be not loft

So poorely in your thoughts.

Macb. To know my deed,

Knocke.

T'were beft not know my selfe.
Wake Duncan with thy knocking:

I would thou could'ft.

Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter a Porter.

Knocking within.

Porter. Here's a knocking indeede: if a man were
Porter of Hell Gate, hee should haue old turning the
Key. Knock. Knock, Knock, Knock. Who's there
i'th'name of Belzebub? Here's a Farmer, that hang'd
himfelfe on th'expectation of Plentie: Come in time, haue
Napkins enow about you, here you'l'e sweat for't. Knock.
Knock, knock. Who's there in th'other Deuils Name?
Faith here's an Equiiuocator, that could fware in both
the Scales againft cyther Scale, who committed Treaſon
enough for Gods ſake, yet could not equiiuocate to Hea-
uen: oh come in, Equiiuocator. Knock. Knock,
Knock, Knock. Who's there? 'Faith here's an English
Taylor come hither, for flealing out of a French Hoge:
Come in Taylor, here you may roſt your Goofe. Knock.
Knock, Knock. Neuer at quiet: What are you? but this
place is too cold for Hell. Ile Deuill-Porter it no further:
I had thought to haue let in ſome of all Proſeffions, that
goe the Primroſe way to th'ueuerlaſting Bonfire. Knock,
Anon, anon, I pray you remember the Porter.

Enter Macduff, and Lenox.

Macc. Was it so late, friend, ere you went to Bed,
That you doe lye so late?

Port. Faith Sir, we were carowſing till the ſecond Cock:
And Drinke, Sir, is a great prouoker of three things.

Macc. What three things does Drinke especially
prouoke?

Port. Marry, Sir, Nofe-painting, Sleepe, and Vrine.
Lecherie, Sir, it prouokes, and vnprouokes: it prouokes
the defire, but it takes away the performance. Therefore
much Drinke may be faid to be an Equiiuocator with Le-
cherie: it makes him, and it marres him; it lets him on,
and it takes him off; it perfwades him, and diſ-heartens
him; makes him ſland too, and not ſland too: in conclu-
fion, equiiuocates him in a ſleep, and giuing him the Lye,
leaues him.

Macc. I beleeue, Drinke gaue thee the Lye laſt Night.

Port. That it did, Sir, i'the very Throat on me: but I
requited him for his Lye, and (I thinke) being too ſtrong
for him, though he tooke vp my Legges sometime, yet I
made a Shift to caſt him.

Enter Macbeth.

Macc. Is thy Maſter stirring?

Our knocking ha's awak'd him: here he comes.

Lenox. Good morrow, Noble Sir.

Macb. Good morrow both.

Macc. Is the King stirring, worthy Thane?

Macb. Not yet.

Macc. He did command me to call timely on him,
I haue almoſt flipt the houre.

Mab. Ile bring you to him.

Macc. I know this is a ioyfull trouble to you:

But yet 'tis one.

Macc. The labour we delight in, Phyſicks paine:
This is the Doore.

Macc. Ile make so bold to call, for'tis my limitted
ſeruice.
Exit Macduffe.

Lenox. Goes the King hence to day?

Macb. He does: he did appoint ſo.

Lenox. The Night ha's been vnruly:

Where we lay, our Chimneys were blowne downe,
And (as they ſay) lamentings heard i'th'Ayre;
Strange Schreemes of Death,
And Prophecying, with Accents terrible,
Of dyre Combustion, and confus'd Euents,
New hatch'd toth' wofull time.

The obſcure Bird clamor'd the liue-long Night.
Some ſay, the Earth was ſeuorous,
And did ſake.

Macb. 'Twas a rough Night.

Lenox. My young remembrance cannot paralell
A fellow to it.

Enter Macduff.

Macc. O horror, horror, horror,
Tongue nor Heart cannot conceiue, nor name thee.

Macc. and Lenox. What's the matter?

Macc. Conſuſion now hath made his Maſter-peece:
Moft ſacrilegious Murther hath broke ope
The Lords anoynted Temple, and ſtole thence
The Life o'th' Building.

Macb. What is't you ſay, the Life?

Lenox. Meane you his Maſſeſie?

Macc. Approch the Chamber, and destroy your fight
With a new Gorgon. Doe not bid me ſpeake:

mm 3

See,

The Tragedie of Macbeth.

138

See, and then speake your felues: awake,awake,
Exeunt Macbeth and Lenox.

Ring the Alarum Bell: Murther,and Treaſon,
Banquo, and Donalbaine: Malcolm awake,
Shake off this Downey ſleepe, Deaths counterfeit,
And looke on Death it ſelfe: vp,vp,and see
The great Doomes Image: Malcolm, Banquo,
As from your Graues rite vp,and walke like Sprights,
To countenance this horror. Ring the Bell.
Bell rings. Enter Lady.

Lady. What's the Bulineſſe?
That ſuch a hideous Trumpet calls to parley
The ſleepers of the Houſe? Iſpeake, Iſpeake.

Maeſ. O gentle Lady,
'Tis not for you to heare what I can Iſpeake:
The repetition in a Womans ear;
Would murther as it fell.

Enter Banquo.

O Banquo, Banquo, Our Royall Maſter's murther'd.
Lady. Woe, alas:

What, in our Houſe?

Ban. Too cruell, any where.

Deare Duff, I prythee contradict thy ſelfe,
And ſay, it is not so.

Enter Macbeth, Lenox, and Roffe.

Mach. Had I but dy'd an hour before this chance,
I had liu'd a bleſſed time: for from this inſtant,
There's nothing ſerious in Mortalitie:
All is but Toyes: Renowne and Grace is dead,
The Wine of Life is drawne, and the meere Lees
Is left this Vault, to brag of.

Enter Malcolm and Donalbaine.

Donal. What is amiffle?

Mach. You are, and doe not know't:
The Spring, the Head, the Fountaine of your Blood
Is ſtopt, the very Source of it is ſtopt.

Maeſ. Your Royall Father's murther'd,

Mal. Oh, by whom?

Lenox. Thoſe of his Chamber, as it ſeem'd, had don't:
Their Hands and Faces were all badg'd with blood,
So were their Daggers, which vnwiſp'd, we found
Vpon their Pillowes: they ſtar'd, and were diſtraſted,
No mans Life was to be truſted with them.

Mach. O, yet I doe repent me of my ſorie,
That I did kill them.

Maeſ. Wherefore did you ſo?

Mash. Who can be wife, amaz'd, temp'rate, & ſurious,
Loyall, and Neutrall, in a moment? No man:
Th'expedition of my violent Loue
Out-run the pawſer, Reaſon. Here lay Duncan,

His Silver skinne, lac'd with his Golden Blood,
And his gair'd Stabs, look'd like a Breach in Nature,
For Ruines waſtfull entrance: there the Murtherers,
Steep'd in the Colours of their Trade; their Daggers
Vnmannerly breech'd with gore: who could reſtraine,
That had a heart to loue; and in that heart,
Courage, to make's loue knowne?

Lad. Helif me hence, hoa.

Maeſ. Looke to the Lady.

Mal. Why doe we hold our tongues,
That moſt may clayme this arguiment for ours?

Donal. What ſhould be ſpoken here,

Where our Fate hid in an augure hole,
May rufh, and feize vs? Let's away,
Our Teares are not yet brew'd.

Mal. Nor our ſtrong Sorrow
Vpon the foot of Motion.

Banq. Looke to the Lady:
And when we haue our naked Frailties hid,
That ſuffer in expouſure; let vs meet,
And queſtion this moſt bloody piece of worke,
To know it further. Feares and ſcruples ſake vs:
In the great Hand of God I ſtand, and thence,
Againſt the vndivulg'd pretence, I fight
Of Treaſonous Mallice.

Maeſ. And ſo doe I.

All. So all.

Maeſ. Let's briefly put on manly readineſſe,
And meet i'th' Hall together.

All. Well contented.

Maeſ. What will you doe?
Let's not confort with them:
To ſhew an vnſelt Sorrow, is an Office
Which the falſe man do's eafe.
Ile to England.

Exeunt.

Don. To Ireland, I:

Our ſeperated fortune ſhall keepe vs both the ſaſer:
Where we are, there's Daggers in mens Smiles;
The neere in blood, the neerer bloody.

Maeſ. This murtherer ſhaft that's ſhot,
Hath not yet lighted; and our ſaſeſt way,
Is to auoid the ayme. Therefore to Horſe,
And let vs not be daintie of leaue-taking,
But ſhift away: there's warrant in that Theſt,
Which ſteales it ſelfe, when there's no mercie left.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Roffe, with an Old man.

Old man. Three ſcore and ten I can remember well,
Within the Volume of which Time, I haue ſeene
Hours dreadfull, and things ſtrange; but this ſore Night
Hath trifled former knowlings.

Roffe. Ha, good Father,
Thou ſeeth the Heauens, as troubled with mans Aſt,
Threatens his bloody Stage: byth' Clock 'tis Day,
And yet darke Night ſtranges the trauailing Lampe:
Is't Nights predominance, or the Dayes ſhame,
That Darkneſſe does the face of Earth intombe,
When liuing Light ſhould kiffe it?

Old man. 'Tis vnnaſtural,
Euen like the deed that's done: On Tuesday laſt,
A Faulcon towring in her pride of place,
Was by a Mowſing Owle hawkt at, and kill'd.

Roffe. And Duncans Horſes,
(A thing moſt ſtrange, and certaine)
Beauteous, and Swiſt, the Minions of their Race,
Turn'd wilde in nature, broke their falls, ſlong out,
Contending 'gainſt Obedience, as they would
Make Warre with Mankinde.

Old man. 'Tis ſaid, they eat each other.

Roffe. They did ſo:

To

The Tragedie of Macbeth.

139

To th'samazement of mine eyes that look'd vpon't.

Enter Macduffe.

Heere comes the good Macduffe.

How goes the world Sir now?

Macc. Why see you not?

Roff. Is't known who did this more then bloody deed?

Macc. That seeth Macbeth hath flaine.

Roff. Alas the day,

What good could they pretend?

Macc. They were subborned,

Malcolme, and Donalbaine the Kings two Sonnes
Are solute away and fled, which puts vpon them
Sufpition of the deed.

Roffe. 'Gainst Nature fill,

Thriftlesse Ambition, that will rauen vp

Thine owne liues meanes: I then'tis moft like,

The Soueraignty will fall vpon Macbeth.

Macc. He is already nam'd, and gone to Scone
To be ineuefted.

Roffe. Where is Duncans body ?

Macc. Carried to Colmekill,

The Sacred Store-houfe of his Predeceſſors,
And Guardian of their Bones.

Roffe. Will you to Scone ?

Macc. No Cofin, Ile to Fife.

Roffe. Well, I will thither.

Macc. Well may you see things wel done there: Adieu
Leaſt our old Robes fit easier then our new.

Roffe. Farewell, Father.

Old M. Gods beny ſon go with you, and with thofe
That would make good of bad, and Friends of Foes.

Exeunt omnes

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Banquo.

Bang. Thou haſt it now; King, Cawdor, Glamis, all,
As the weyard Women promis'd, and I feare
Thou playd it moſt fowly for't: yet it was ſaide
It ſhould not ſtand in thy Poſterity,
But that my ſelfe should be the Roote, and Father
Of many Kings. If there come truth from them,
As vpon thee Macbeth, their Speeches ſhine,
Why by the verities on thee made good,
May they not be my Oracles as well,
And ſet me vp in hope. But hufh, no more.

Semit founded. Enter Macbeth as King, Lady Lenox,
Rosse, Lords, and Attendants.

Macc. Heere's our chieſe Gueſt.

La. If he had beene forgotten,
It had bene as a gap in our great Feaſt,
And all-thing vnbecoming.

Macc. Tonight we hold a ſolemne Supper fir,
And Ile requeſt your prefence.

Bang. Let your Highneſſe

Command vpon me, to the which my duties

Are with a moſt indifſoluble tye
For euer knit.

Macc. Ride you this afternoone ?

Ban. I, my good Lord.

Macc. We should haue eſſe defir'd your good aduice

(Which ſtill hath been both graue, and proſperous)

In this dayes Councell: but wee'le take to morrow.

Is't farre you ride?

Ban. As farre, my Lord, as will fill vp the time

'Twixt this, and Supper. Goe not my Horſe the better,
I muſt become a borrower of the Night,

For a darke houre, or twaine.

Maccb. Faiſe not our Feaſt.

Ban. My Lord, I will not.

Maccb. We heare our bloody Cozens are beſtow'd
In England, and in Ireland, not confesſing
Their cruell Parricide, filling their hearers
With ſtrange inuention. But of that to morrow,
When therewithall, we ſhall haue cauſe of State,
Crauing vs ioyntly. Hye you to Horſe:
Adieu, till you retune at Night.

Goes Fleance with you?

Ban. I, my good Lord: our time does call vpon's.

Maccb. I with your Horſes ſwift, and ſure of foot :
And fo I doe commend you to their backs.

Farwell.

Exit Banquo.

Let euery man be maſter of his time,
Till ſeuen at Night, to make ſocietie

The ſweeter welcome :

We will keepe our ſelfe till Supper time alone:

While then, God be with you.

Exeunt Lords.

Sirra, a word with you : Attend that men
Our pleafure?

Servant. They are, my Lord, without the Pallace
Gate.

Maccb. Bring them before vs.

Exit Servant.

To be thus, is nothing, but to be ſafely thus:

Our ſeares in Banquo ſticke deepe,

And in his Royaltie of Nature reignes that
Which would be fear'd. 'Tis much he dares,
And to that dauntlesſe temper of his Minde,
He hath a Wifdome, that doth guide his Valour,
To act in ſafetie. There is none but he,
Whofe being I doe ſeare: and vnder him,
My Genius is rebuk'd, as it is ſaid

Mark. Anthonies was by Cefar. He chid the Sifters,
When firſt they put the Name of King vpon me,
And bad them ſpeake to him. Then Prophet-like,
They hayl'd him Father to a Line of Kings.

Vpon my Head they pla'd a ſtrutlesſe Crowne,
And put a barren Scepter in my Gripe,

Thence to be wrencht with an vnlineall Hand,
No Sonne of mine ſucceeding: if't be ſo,

For Banquo's Iſſue haue I fill'd my Minde,

For them, the gracious Duncan haue I murther'd,

Put Rancours in the Veffell of my Peace

Onely for them, and mine eternall Iewell

Guen to the common Enemie of Man,

To make them Kings, the ſeedes of Banquo Kings,

Rather then ſo, come Fate into the Lyſt,

And champion me to th'vtterance.

Who's there?

Enter Servant, and two Murtherers.

Now goe to the Doore, and flay there till we call.

Exit Servant.

Was it not yefterday we ſpoke together?

Murth. It was, to pple your Highneſſe.

Maccb. Well then,

Now haue you confider'd of my ſpeeches :

Know,

The Tragedie of Macbeth.

140

Know, that it was he, in the times past,
Which held you so vnder fortune,
Which you thought had been our innocent selfe.
This I made good to you, in our last conference,
Past in probation with you :

How you were borne in hand, how croft :
The Infruments : who wrought with them :
And all things else, that might

To half a Soule, and to a Notion craz'd,

Say, Thus did Banquo.

1. Murth. You made it knowne to vs.

Mach. I did so:

And went further, which is now

Our point of fecond meeting.

Doe you finde your patience so predominant,
In your nature, that you can let this goe?

Are you so Gofpell'd, to pray for this good man,

And for his Iflue, whose heauie hand

Hath bow'd you to the Graue, and begger'd

Yours for euer?

1. Murth. We are men, my Liege.

Mach. I, in the Catalogue ye goe for men,
As Hounds, and Greyhounds, Mungrels, Spaniels, Curres,
Showghes, Water-Rugs, and Demy-Wolues are clipt

All by the Name of Dogges : the valued file

Diftinguifhes the Swifthe flow, the Subtle,

The Houſe-keeper, the Hunter, euery one

According to the gift, which bounteous Nature

Hath in him clos'd: whereby he does receiue

Particular addition, from the Bill,

That writes them all alike: and so of men.

Now, if you haue a flation in the file,

Not i'th' worſt ranke of Manhood, ſay't,

And I will put that Buſineſſe in your Boſomes,

Whose execution takes your Enemie off,

Grapples you to the heart; and loue of vs,

Who weare our Health but fickly in his Life,

Which in his Death were perfect.

2. Murth. I am one, my Liege,

Whom the vile Blowes and Buffets of the World
Hath ſo incens'd, that I am reckleſſe what I doe,

To ſpight the World.

1. Murth. And I another,

So wearie with Diftaſters, tugg'd with Fortune,

That I would fet my Life on any Chance,

To mend it, or be rid on't.

Mach. Both of you know Banquo was your Enemie.

Murth. True, my Lord.

Mach. So is he mine: and in ſuch bloody distance,
That euery minute of his being, thrifts

A gainſt my neer'ft of Life: and though I could
With bare-fac'd power sweepe him from my fight,

And bid my will auouch it; yet I muſt not,

For certaine friends that are both his, and mine,
Whose loues I may not drop, but wayle his fall,

Who I my ſelfe ſtuck downe: and thence it is,

That I to your affiſtance doe make loue,

Masking the Buſineſſe from the common Eye,

For fundry weightie Reaſons.

2. Murth. We ſhall, my Lord,

Performe what you command vs.

1. Murth. Though our Liues--

Mach. Your Spirits ſhine through you,
Within this houre, at moſt,

I will auide you where to plant your ſelues,

Acquaint you with the perſect Spy o'th' time,

The moment on't, for 's muſt be done to Night,
And ſomething from the Pallace: always thought,
That I require a cleareneſſe; and with him,
To leaue no Rubs nor Botches in the Worke:
Fleans, his Sonne, that keepes him companie,
Whose abſence is no leſſe materiall to me,
Then is his Fathers, muſt embrace the ſate
Of that darke houre: reſolue your ſelues apart,
Ile come to you anon.

Murth. We are reſolu'd, my Lord.

Mach. Ile call upon you ſtraight: abide within,
It is concluded: Banquo, thy Soules flight,
If it finde Heauen, muſt finde it out to Night. Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Macbeths Lady, and a Servant.

Lady. Is Banquo gone from Court?

Seruant. I, Madame, but returns againe to Night.
Lady. Say to the King, I would attend his leylure,
For a few words.

Seruant. Madame, I will.

Exit.

Lady. Nought had, all's ſpent,
Where our desire is got without content :
'Tis faſer, to be that which we deftroy,
Then by deſtruction dwell in doubtfull ioy.

Enter Macbeth.

How now, my Lord, why do you keepe alone ?
Of ſorryſt Fancies your Companions making,

Ving that ſoſe Thoughts, which ſhould indeed haue dy'd
With them they thinke on: things without all remedie
Should be without regard: what's idone, is done,

Mach. We haue ſcorch'd the Snake, nor kill'd it:
Shee'le close, and be her ſelfe, whileſt our poore Malice

Remaines in danger of her former Tooth.
But let the frame of things diſioynt,
Both the Worlds ſuffer,

Ere we will eate our Meale in ſeare, and ſleepe
In the affiſtion of theſe terrible Dreames,
That ſhake vs Nightly: Better be with the dead,
Whom we, to gayne our peace, haue ſent to peace,
Then on the torture of the Minde to lye
In reſtleſſe extaſſe.

Duncane is in his Graue :
After Life's fitfull Feuer, he ſleepes well,
Treaſon ha's done his worſt: nor Steele, nor Poyſon,
Mallice domeſtique, forraine Leuie, nothing,
Can touch him further.

Lady. Come on :

Gentle my Lord, ſleeke o're your rugged Lookes,
Be bright and Iouiall among your Gueſts to Night.

Mach. So ſhall I Loue, and so I pray be you:
Let your remembrance apply to Banquo,
Prefent him Eminence, both with Eye and Tongue :
Vnſaſe the while, that wee muſt laue
Our Honors in theſe flattering ſtreames,
And make our Faces Vizards to our Hearts,
Difguſing what they are.

Lady. You muſt leaue this.

Mach. O, full of Scorpions is my Minde, deare Wife:
Thou know'ſt, that Banquo and his Fleans liues,
Lady. But

The Tragedie of Macbeth.

141

Lady. But in them, Natures Coppie's not eterne.

Mach. There's comfort yet, they are affaireable,
Then be thou iocund: ere the Bat hath flowne
His Cloyfer'd flight, ere to black Heccats summons
The hard-borne Beetle, with his drowfie hums,
Hath rung Nights yawning Peale,
There shall be done a deed of deadfall note.

Lady. What's to be done ?

Mach. Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest Chuck,
Till thou applaud the deed: Come, leeling Night,
Skarfe vp the tender Eye of pitifull Day,
And with thy bloodie and inuible Hand
Cancell and teare to pieces that great Bond,
Which keepes me pale. Light thickens,
And the Crow makes Wing toth' Rookie Wood:
Good things of Day begin to droope, and drowfe,
Whiles Nights black Agents to their Prey's doe rowfe.
Thou maruell'd at my words: but hold thee till,
Things bad begun, make strong themfelues by ill:
So prythee goe with me.
Excunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter three Murderers.

1. But who did bid thee loyne with vs?

3. Macbeth.

2. He needs not our mistruff, since he delivers
Our Offices, and what we haue to doe,
To the direction iuft.

1. Then stand with vs :

The Weft yet glimmers with some streakes of Day,
Now purrets the lated Traueller apace,
To gayne the timely Inne, end neere approches
The subieſt of our Watch.

3. Hearke, I heare Horſes,

Banquo within. Giue vs a Light there, hoa.

2. Then this hee :

The reſt, that are within the note of expectation,
Alreadie are i'th' Court.

1. His Horſes goe about.

3. Almoſt a mile: but he does vſually,
So all men doe, from hence toth' Pallace Gate
Make it their Walke.

Enter Banquo and Fleans, with a Torch.

2. A Light, a Light.

3. Tis hee.

1. Stand too't.

Ban. It will be Rayne to Night.

1. Let it come downe.

Ban. O, Trecherie!

Flye good Fleans, flye, flye, flye,

Thou mayt reſerve. O Stated, and hauing

3. Who did strike out the Light ?

1. Was't not the way ?

3. There's but one downer the Sonne is fled.

2. We haue loſt.

Be half of our Affair.

1. Well, let's away, and bay how much is done.

Excunt.

## Scena Quarta.

Banquet prepar'd. Enter Macbeth, Lady, Roffe, Lenox,
Lords, and Attendants.

Mach. You know your owne degrees, fit downe:
At firſt and laſt, the hearty welcome.

Lords. Thankes to your Maiety.

Mach. Our ſelfe will mingle with Society,
And play the humble Hoſt:
Our Hoftedle keeps her State, but in beſt time
We will require her welcome.

La. Pronounce it for me Sir, to all our Friends,
For my heart ſpeaks, they are welcome.

Enter firſt Murtherer.

Mach. See they encounter thee with their harts thanks
Both fides are even: here I le fit i'th' mid'ft,
Be large in mirth, anon weel' drinke a Meaſure
The Table round. There's blood vpon thy face.

Mur. Tis Banquo's then.

Mach. Tis better thee without, then he within.
Is he dispatch'd?

Mur. My Lord his throat is cut, that I did for him.

Mach. Thou art the beſt o'th' Cut-throats,
Yet hee's good that did the like for Fleans:
If thou didst it, thou art the Non-parzell.

Mur. Moſt Royall Sir
Fleans is ſcap'd.

Mach. Then comes my Fit againe :
I had else beene perfect;
Whole as the Marble, founded as the Rocke,
As broad, and generall, as the casing Ayre:
But now I am cabin'd, crib'd, confin'd, bound in
To fawcy doubts, and feares. But Banquo's ſafe?

Maj. I, my good Lord: ſafe in a ditch he bides,
With twenty trenched gathes on his head;
The leaſt a Death to Nature.

Mach. Thanks for that:
There the growne Serpent lyes, the worme that's fled
Hath Nature that in time will Venom breed,
No teeth for th' preſent. Get thee gone, to morrow
Wee' heare our felues againe.

Exit Murderer.

Lady. My Royall Lord,
You do not giue the Cheere, the Feaſt is ſold
That is not often vouch'd, while't is a making :
'Tis guien, with welcome: to feede were beſt at home:
From thence, the fawce to meate is Ceremony,
Meeting were bare without it.

Enter the Ghost of Banquo, and fits in Macbeths place.

Mach. Sweet Remembrancer :
Now good digeſion waite on Appetite,
And health on both.

Lenox. May't please you your Highneſſe ſie.

Mach. Here had we now our Countries Honor, roof'd,
Were the grac'd perſon of our Banquo preſent:
Who, may I rather challenge for vnkindneſſe,
Then pitty for Mifchance.

Roffe. His abſence (Sir)

Lays blame vpon his promife: Pleas't your Highneſſe
To grace vs with your Royall Company?

Mcab.

The Tragedie of Macbeth.

142

Macb. The Table's full.
Lenox. Heere is a place referu'd Sir,
Macb. Where?
Lenox. Heere my good Lord.
What is't that mones your Highneſſe ?
Macb. Which of you haue done this?
Lords. What, my good Lord?
Macb. Thou canſt not ſay I did it: neuer ſhake
Thy goary lockes at me.
Roffe. Gentlemen rife, his Highneſſe is not well.
Lady. Sit worthy Friends: my Lord is often thus,
And hath beene from his youth. Pray you keepe Seat,
The fit is momentary, vpon a thought
He will againe be well. If much you note him
You ſhall offend him, and extend his Paffion,
Feed, and regard him not. Are you a man?
Macb. I, and a bold one, that dare looke on that
Which might appall the Dineill.
La. O proper fluffe:

This is the very painting of your ſeare:
This is the Ayre-drawne-Dagger which you faid
Led you to Duncan. O, theſe flawes and flarts
(Impoſtors to true ſeare) would well become
A womans ſtory, at a Winters fire
Authoriz'd by her Grandam: ſhame it ſelfe,
Why do you make ſuch faces? When all's done
You haue but on a ſtoole.
Macb. Prythee see there:

Behold, looke, loe, how ſay you:
Why what care I, if thou canſt nod, ſpeake too.
If Charnell houſes, and our Graues muſt ſend
Thofe that we bury, backe; our Monuments
Shall be the Mawes of Kytes.

La. What? quite vnmann'd in folly.

Macb. If I ſtand hereere, I ſaw him.

La. Fie for ſhame.

Macb. Blood hath bene ſhed ere now, i'th'olden time
Ere humane Statute purg'd the gentle Weale:
I, and, since too, Murthers haue bene perform'd
Too terrible for the eare. The times has bene,
That when the Braines were out, the man would dye,
And there an end: But now they rife againe.
With twenty mortall murthers on their crownes,¹
And pufh vs from our ſtooles. This is more ſtrange
Then ſuch a murther is.

La. My worthy Lord

Your Noble Friends do lacke you.

Macb. I do ſorget:

Do not mufe at me my moſt worthy Friends,
I haue a ſtrange infirmity, which is nothing
To thofe that know me. Come, loue and health to all,
Then Ile fit downe: Giue me some Wine, fill full:

Enter Gheſt.

I drinke to th' generall ioy o'th' whole Table,
And to our deere Friend Banquo, whom we miffes:
Would he were heere: to all, and him we thirtys,
And all to all.

Lords. Our duties, and the pledge.

Macb. Avant, & quit my fight, let the earth hide thee:
Thy bones are marrowleſſe, thy blood is cold:
Thou haſt no ſpeculation in thofe eyes
Which thou doſt glare with.
La. Thinke of this good Pecerest:
But as a thing of Custome: 'Tis no other
Onely it ſpoyles the pleasure of the time.
Macb. What man dare, I dare to do that?

Approach thou like the rugged Ruffian Beare,
The arm'd Rhinoceros, or th'Hircan Tiger,
Take any ſhape but that, and my firme Nerves
Shall neuer tremble. Or be aliuie againe,
And dareme to the Defart with thy Sword:
If trembling I inhabit then, proteſt mee
The Baby of a Girler. Hence horrible shadow,
Vnreall mock'ry hence. Why so, being gone
I am a man againe: pray you fit full.

La. You haue diſplaſ'd the mirth,

Broke the good meeting, with moſt admir'd diſordet.

Macb. Can ſuch things be,
And ouercome vs like a Summers Clowd,
Without our ſpeciall wonder? You make me ſtrange
Euen to the diſpoſition that I owe,
When now I thinke you can behold ſuch ſights,
And keepe the naturall Rubie of your Cheekes,
When mine is blanch'd with ſeare.

Roffe. What ſights, my Lord?

La. I pray you ſpeake not: he growes worſe & worſe
Question enrages him: at once, goodnight.
Stand not vpon the order of your going,
But go at once.

Len. Goodnight, and better health
Attend his Maiety.

La. A kinde goodnight to all.

Exit Lords.

Macb. It will haue blood they ſay:
Blood will haue Blood:

Stones haue beene knowne to moue, & Trees to ſpeake:
Augures, and vnderſood Relations, haue
By Maggot Pyes, & Choughes, & Rookes brought forth
The ſecret ſt man of Blood. What is the night?

La. Almoſt at odds with morning, which is which.
Macb. How ſay't thou that Macduff denies his perſon
At our great bidding.

La: Did you ſend to him Sir?

Macb. I heare it by the way: But I will ſend:
There's not a one of them but in his houſe
I keepe a Seruant Feed. I will to morrow
(And betimes I will) to the weyard Sifters.
More ſhall they ſpeake: for now I am bent to know
By the worſt meanes, the worſt, for mine owne good,
All cauſes shall giue way. I am in blood
Stept in ſo farre, that ſhould I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go ore:
Strange things I haue in head, that will to hand,
Which muſt be acted, ere they may be ſcand.

La. You lacke the ſeafon of all Natures, ſleep.

Macb. Come, weel to ſleep: My ſtrange & ſelv-abuse
Is the initiate ſeare, that wants hard way:
We are yet but yong indeed.

Exeunt.

Scena Quinta.

Thunder. Enter the three Witches, meeting
Hecate.

I. Why how now Hecate, you looke angently?

Hec. Hae I not reaſon (Beldams) as you are?

Sawcy, and ouer-bold, how did you dare.

To Trade, and Trafficke with Macbeth,
In Riddles, and Affaires of death;

And

The Tragedie of Macbeth.

144

Nofe of Turke, and Tartars lips:
Finger of Birth-strangled Babe,
Ditch-deliver'd by a Drab,
Make the Grewell thicke, and flab.
Adde thereto a Tigers Chawdron,
For th'Ingredience of our Cawdron.

All. Double, double, toyle and trouble,
Fire burne, and Cauldron bubble.

2 Coole it with a Babooes blood,
Then the Charme is firme and good.

Enter Hecat, and the other three Witches.

Hec. O well done: I commend your paines,
And euery one shall share i'th'gaines:

And now about the Cauldron sing
Like Blues and Fairies in a Ring,
Inchanting all that you put in.

Musique and a Song. Blacke Spirits, &c.

2 By the pricking of my Thumbes,
Something wicked this way comes:
Open Lockes, who euer knockes.

Enter Macbeth.

Mach. How now you secret, black, & midnight Hags?
What is't you do?

All. A deed without a name.

Mach. I coniure you, by that which you Proſſeſſe,
(How ere you come to know it) anſwer me:

Though you vntye the Windes, and let them fight

Against the Churches: Though the yefly Waues

Confound and swallow Navigation vp:

Though bladed Corne be lodg'd, & Trees blown downe,

Though Cailles topple on their Warders heads:

Though Pallaces, and Pyramids do slope

Their heads to their Foundations: Though the treasure
Of Natures Germaine, tumble altogether,

Euen till deſtruction ſicken: Anſwer me

To what I aske you.

1 Speake.

2 Demand.

3 Wee'l anſwer.

1 Say, if th' hadt rather heare it from our mouthes,
Or from our Maſters.

Mach. Call'em: let me fee 'em.

1 Powre in Sowes blood, that naith eaten
Her nine Farrow: Greaze that's sweaten

From the Murderers Gibbet, throw
Into the Flame.

All. Come high or low:

Thy Selfe and Office deaſtly ſhow.

Thunder.

1. Apparition, an Armed Head.

Mach. Tell me, thou vnknowne power.

1 He knowes thy thought:

Heare his ſpeech, but ſay thou nought.

1 Appar. Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth:
Beware Macduffe,

Beware the Thane of Fife: diſmiffe me. Enough.

He Descends.

Mach. What ere thou art, for thy good caution, thanks
Thou haſt harp'd my ſeare aright. But one word more.

1 He will not be commanded: heere's another
More potent then the firſt.

Thunder.

2 Apparition, a Bloody Childe.

2 Appar. Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth.

Mach. Had I three eares, I'd heare thee.

2 Appar. Be bloody, bold, & refolute:

Laugh to ſcorne

The powre of man: For none of woman borne
Shall harme Macbeth.

Mac. Then liue Macduffe: what need I ſeare of thee?
But yet: Ile make affurance: double ſure,
And take a Bond of Fate: thou ſhalt not liue,
That I may tell pale-hearted Feare, it lies;
And fleepe in spight of Thunder.

3 Apparation, a Childe Crowned, with a Tree in his hand.
What is this, that rifes like the iffue of a King,
And weares vpon his Baby-brow, the round
And top of Soueraignty?

All. Listen, but ſpeake not too't.

3 Appar. Be Lyon metled, proud, and take no care:
Who chafes, who fretſ, or where Conſpirers are:
Macbeth ſhall neuer vanquiſh'd be, vntill
Great Byrnam Wood, to high Dunſmane Hill
Shall come againſt him.

Macb. That will neuer bee:

Who can impreſſe the Forreſt, bid the Tree

Unfixe his earth-bound Root? Sweet boadments good:

Rebellious dead, rife neuer till the Wood

Of Byrnan rife, and our high plac'd Macbeth

Shall liue the Leafe of Nature, pay his breath

To time, and mortall Cusſome. Yet my Hart

Throbs to know one thing: Tell me, if your Art

Can tell so much: shall Banquo's iffue euer

Reigne in this Kingdome?

All. Seeke to know no more.

Mach. I will be ſatisfied. Deny me this,
And an eternall Curſe fall on you: Let me know,
Why finkes that Caldron? & what noife is this?

Defend.

1 Shew.

2 Shew.

3 Shew.

All. Shew his Eyes, and greeue his Hatt,
Come like shadowes, so depart.

A shew of eight Kings, and Banquo laſt, with a glaſſe
in his hand.

Mach. Thou art too like the Spirit of Banquo: Down:
Thy Crowne do's ſeare mine Eye-bals. And thy haire
Thou other Gold-bound Brow, is like the firſt:

A third, is like the former. Filthy Haggés,

Why do you shew me this? —— A fourth? Star eyes!

What will the Line stretch out to th'cracke of Doome?

Another yet? A ſeauenth? Ile fee no more:

And yet the eight appeares, who beares a glaſſe,

Which ſhewes me many more: and some I fee,

That two-fold Balles, and trebble Scepters carry.

Horrible fight: Now I fee'tis true,

For the Blood-bolter'd Banquo ſmiles vpon me,
And points at them for his. What? is this to?

1 I SIR, all this is to.

But why
Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?

Come Sifters, cheere we vp his ſprights,
And ſhew the beſt of our delights.

Ile Charme the Ayre to giue a found,

While you performe your Antique round:

That this great King may kindly ſay,

Our duties, did his welcome pay.

Musique.

The Witches Dance, and vanilſo.

Mach. Where are they? Gone?

Let this pernicious houre,

Stand aye accurſed in the Kalender.

Come in, without there.

Lenox. What's your Graces will.

Enter Lenox.

Mach.

The Tragedie of Macbeth.

Macb. Saw you the Weyard Sifters ?
Lenox. No my Lord.
Macb. Came they not by you ?
Lenox. No indeed my Lord.
Macb. Infected be the Ayre whereon they ride,
And damn'd all those that trust them. I did heare
The gallopping of Horfe. Who was't came by ?
Len. Tis two or three my Lord, that bring you word:
Macduff is fled to England.
Macb. Fled to England ?
Len. I, my good Lord.
Macb. Time, thou anticipat'st my dread exploits:
The flighty purpose neuer is o're-tooke
Vnleffe the deed go with it. From this moment,
The very firstlings of my heart shall be
The firstlings of my hand. And euen now
To Crown my thoughts with Acts: be it thought & done:
The Castle of Macduff, I will surprize,
Seize upon Fife; giue to th'edge o' th'word
His Wife, his Babes, and all vnfortunate Soules
That trace him in his Line. No boasling like a Foole,
This deed Ile do, before this purpofe coole,
But no more fights. Where are theſe Gentlemen ?
Come bring me where they are.

Exeunt

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Macduffes Wife, her Son, and Roffe.

Wife. What had he done, to make him fly the Land ?
Roffe. You muſt haue patience Madam.
Wife. He had none :
His flight was madneſſe : when our Actions do not,
Our feares do make vs Traitors.
Roffe. You know not
Whether it was his wifedome, or his feare.

Wife. Wifedom? to leaue his wife, to leaue his Babes,
His Manſion, and his Titles, in a place
From whence himſelfe do's flye? He loues vs not,
He wants the naturall touch. For the poore Wren
(The moſt diminutive of Birds) will fight,
Her yong ones in her Neſt, againſt the Owle :
All is the Feare, and nothing is the Loue;
As little is the Wifedome, where the flight
So runnes againſt all reaſon.
Roffe. My deereſt Cooz,

I pray you ſchoole your ſelfe. But for your Husband,
He is Noble, Wife, Iudicious, and beſt knowes
The fits o' th' Season. I dare not ſpeake much further,
But cruell are the times, when we are Traitors
And do not know our ſelues : when we hold Rumor
From what we feare, yet know not what we ſteare,
But floate upon a wilde and violent Sea
Each way, and moue. I take my leaue of you :
Shall not be long but Ile be heere againe:
Things at the worſt will ceaſe, or else clime vpward,
To what we were before. My pretty Cosine,
Bleſſing upon you.

Wife. Father'd he is,
And yet hee's Father-jeſſe.

Roffe. I am so much a Foole, should I ſtay longer
It would be my diſgrace, and your diſcomfort.

I take my leaue at once.

Exit Roffe.

Wife. Sirra, your Fathers dead,
And what will you do now? How will you liue ?

Son. As Birds do Mother.

Wife. What with Wormes, and Flyes ?

Son. With what I get I meane, and ſo do they.

Wife. Poore Bird,

Thou'd neuer Feare the Net, nor Lime,
The Pitfall, nor the Gin.

Son. Why ſhould I Mother ?

Poore Birds they are not ſet for :

My Father is not dead for all your ſaying.

Wife. Yes, he is dead :

How wilt thou do for a Father ?

Son. Nay how will you do for a Husband ?

Wife. Why I can buy me twenty at any Market.

Son. Then you'l by 'em to ſell againe.

Wife. Thou ſpeak'st withall thy wit,

And yet I'faith with wit enough for thee.

Son. Wasuny Father a Traitor, Mother ?

Wife. I, that he was.

Son. What is a Traitor ?

Wife. Why one that ſweares, and lyes.

Son. And be all Traitors, that do ſo.

Wife. Every one that do's ſo, is a Traitor,

And muſt be hang'd.

Son. And muſt they all be hang'd, that ſwear and lye?

Wife. Every one.

Son. Who muſt hang them 4

Wife. Why, the honeſt men.

Son. Then the Liars and Swearers are Fools: for there
are Lyars and Swearers enow, to beate the honeſt men,
and hang vp them.

Wife. Now God helpeth thee, poore Monkie :

But how wilt thou do for a Father ?

Son. If he were dead, you'l weepe for him : if you
would not, it were a good ſigne, that I should quickly
haue a new Father.

Wife. Poore pratler, how thou talk'st ?

Enter a Meſsenger.

Mef-Bleſſe you faire Dame: I am not to you known,
Though in your ſtate of Honor I am perſect;
I doubt ſome danger do's approach you neerely.
If you will take a homely mans advice,
Be not found heere: Hence with your little ones
To fright you thus. Me thinkes I am too ſauage:
To do worſe to you, were ſell Cruelty,
Which is too nie your perſon. Heauen preferue you,
I dare abide no longer.

Wife. Whether ſhould I flye ?

Exit Meſsenger

I haue done no harme. But I remember now
I am in this earthly world: where to do harme
Is often laudable, to do good ſometime
Accounted dangerous folly. Why then (alas)
Do I put vp that womanly defence,
To ſay I haue done no harme?

What are theſe faces ?

Enter Murtherers.

Mur. Where is your Husband ?

Wife. I hope in no place ſo vnſanctified,
Where ſuch as thou may'st finde him.

Mur. He's a Traitor.

Son. Thou ly'st thou ſhagge-ear'd Villaines.

Mur. What you Egge?

Yong fry of Treachery?

Son. He ha's kill'd me Mother,
Run away I pray you.

Exit crying Mother.

Scena.

Nn

The Tragedie of Macbeth.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Malcolm and Macduffe.

Mal. Let vs feele out some defolate fhade, & there
Weepe our sad bofomes empty.

Maecl. Let vs rather

Hold faſt the mortall Sword : and like good men,
Beftride our downfall Birthdome : each new Morne,
New Widdowes howle, new Orphans cry, new forowes
Strike heauen on the face, that it refounds
As it weſt with Scotland, and yell'd out
Like Syllable of Dolour.

Mal. What I beleue, Ile waile ;

What know, beleue ; and what I can redreſſe,
As I ſhall finde the time to friend : I wil.

What you haue ſpoke, it may be ſo perchance.

This Tyrant, whoſe ſole name blifteres our tongues,

Was once thought honest : you haue lou'd him well,
He hath not touch'd you yet. I am yong, but ſomething
You may diſcerne of him through me, and wifedome
To off'r vp a weake, poore innocent Lambe
T'appeafe an angry God.

Maecl. I am not treacherous.

Malc. But Macbeth is.

A good and vertuous Nature may recoyle

In an Imperiall charge. But I ſhall craue your pardon :

That which you are, my thoughts cannot tranſpofe;

Angels are bright full, though the brightest ſell.

Though all things foule, would wear the brows of grace
Yet Grace muſt full ſill looke ſo.

Maecl. I haue loſt my Hopes.

Malc. Perchance euen there

Where I did finde my doubts.

Why in that rawneſſe left you Wife, and Childe?

Thofe precious Motives, thofe ſtrong knots of Loue,
Without leaue-taking. I prav you,

Let not my lealiſes, be your Difhonors,

But mine owne Safeties : you may be rightly iuſt,
What euer I ſhall thinke.

Maecl. Bleed, bleed poore Country,

Great Tyranny, lay thy basiſ ſure,

For goodneſſe dare not check thee: wear thy wrongs,
The Title, is affeare'd. Far thee well Lord,

I would not be the Villaine that thou think't,†

For the whole Space that's in the Tyrants Graſpe,

And the rich Eaſt to boot.

Mal. Benot offended :

I ſpeake not as in absolute ſeare of you :

I thinke our Country ſinkes beneath the yoake,

It weepes, it bleeds, and each new day a gath

Is added to her wounds. I thinke withall,

There would be hands vplifted in my right:

And heere from gracious England haue I offer

Of goodly thousands. But for all this,

When I ſhall trefde vpon the Tyrants head,

Or weare it on my Sword; yet my poore Country
Shall have more vices then it had before,

More ſuffer, and more ſundry wayes then euer,

By him that ſhall ſucceede.

Maecl. What ſhould he be ?

Malc. It is my ſelfe I meane : in whom I know

All the particulars of Vice ſo grafted,

That when they ſhall be open'd, blacke Macbeth
Will ſeeme as pure as Snow, and the poore State
Eſteeme him as a Lambe, being compar'd
With my confineleſſe harmes.

Maecl. Not in the Legions

Of horrid Hell, can come a Diuell more damn'd
In euils, to top Macbeth.

Mal. I grant him Bloody,
Luxurious, Auaricious, Falſe, Deceitfull,
Sodaine, Malicious, ſmacking of euery finne
That ha's a name. But there's no bottome, none
In my Voluptuouſneſſe : Your Wiues, your Daughters,
Your Matrons, and your Maides, could not fill vp
The Ceſterne of my Luft, and my Deſire
All continent Impediments would ore-beare
That did oppoſe my will. Better Macbeth,
Then ſuch an one to reigne.

Maecl. Boundleſſe intemperance
In Nature is a Tyranny : It hath beene
Th'vntimely emptying of the happy Thronne,
And fall of many Kings. But ſeare not yet
To take vpon you what is yours : you may
Conneuy your pleafures in a ſpacious plenty,
And yet ſeeme cold. The time you may ſo hoodwince:
We haue willing Dames enough: there cannot be
That Vulture in you, to deuoure ſo many
As will to Greatneſſe dedicate themſelues,
Finding it ſo inclinde.

Mal. With this, there growes

In my moſt ill-compos'd Affection, ſuch
A ſtanchleſſe Auarice, that were I King,
I should cut off the Nobles for their Lands,
Deſire his lewels, and this others Houſe,
And my more-hauing, would be as a Sawce
To make me hunger more, that I should forge
Quarrels vniuſt againſt the Good and Loyall,
Deſtroying them for wealth.

Maecl. This Auarice

flickes deeper : growes with more pernicious roote

Then Summer-feeming Luft : and it hath bin

The Sword of our ſlaine Kings : yet do not ſeare,
Scotland hath Foyſons, to fill vp your will

Of your meere Owne. All there are portable,
With other Graces weigh'd.

Mal. But I haue none. The King-becoming Graces,
As Iſtice, Verity, Temp'rance, Stabilitenefſe,
Bounty, Perſeuercance, Mercy, Lowlineſſe,
Deuotion, Patience, Courage, Fortitude,
I haue no rellifh of them, but abound
In the diuision of each ſeverall Crime,
Acting it many wayes. Nay, had I powre, I ſhould
Poure the ſweet Milke of Concord, into Hell,
Vpreore the vnjuersall peace, confound
All vnity on earth.

Maecl. O Scotland, Scotland.

Malc. If ſuch a one be fit to gouverne, ſpeake :

I am as I haue ſpoken.

Maecl. Fit to govern? No not to live. O Natió miſeſable.
With an vntitled Tyrant, bloody Sceptred,
When ſhalt thou ſee thy wholſome dayes againe?
Since that the trueſt I ſlue of thy Thronne
By his owne Interdiſion stands accuſt,
And do's blapheme his breed? Thy Royall Father
Was a moſt Sainted-King : the Queene that bore thee,
Oftner vpon her knees, then on her feet,
Dy'd eure day ſhe liu'd. Fare thee well,

Theſe

The Tragedie of Macbeth.

These Euiils thou repeat'st upon thy selfe,
Hath banifh'd me from Scotland. O my Breft,
Thy hope ends hereere.

Mal. Macduff, this Noble passion

Childe of integrity, hath from my foule
Wip'd the blacke Scruples, reconcile'd my thoughts
To thy good Truth, and Honor. Dinellifh Macbeth,
By many of these traines, hath fought to win me
Into his power: and modeft Wifedome pluckes me
From ouer-credulous haft: but God aboue
Deale betweene thee and me; For euen now
I put my ſelfe to thy Direction, and
Vnſpeake mine owne detraction. Heree abиюre
The taints, and blames I laide vpon my ſelte,
For ſtrangers to my Nature. I am yet
Vnknowne to Woman, neuer was forſworne,
Scarfely hauе coueted what was mine owne.
At no time broke my Faith, would not betta y
The Deuill to his Fellow, and delight
No leſſe in truth then life. My firſt ſalfe ſpeaking
Was this vpon my ſelſe. What I am truly
Iſtine, and my poore Countries to command:
Whither indeed, before they heere appoſh
Old ſeyward with ten thouſand warlike men
Already at a point, was ſetting foorth:

Already at a point, was fetting foorth:
Now wee'l together, and the chance of goodneſſe
Be like our warranted Quarrell. Why are you ſilent?
Macd. Such welcome, and vnwelcom things at once
'Tis hard to reconcile.

Enter a Doctor.

Mal. Well, more anon. Comes the King forth
I pray you?

Doll. I Sir : there are a crew of wretched Soules
That ſay their Cure: that their malady commences
The great affay of Art. But at his touch,
Such ſanctity hath Heauen giuen his hand,
They preſently amend.
Exit.

Mal. I thanke you Doctor.

Maecl. What's the Difeaſe he meanes?

Mal. 'Tis call'd the Euiill.

A moſt myraculous worke in this good King,
Which often ſince my heere remaine in England,
I haue ſeene him do: How he ſelicites heauen
Himſelfe beſt knowes: but ſtrangely viſited people
All ſwolne and Vicerous, pittifull to the eyes.
The meere diſpaire of Surgery, he cures,
Hanging a golden ſtampe about their neckes,
Paton with holy Prayers, and 'tis ſpokən
To the ſucceeding Royalty he leaues
The healing Benediction. With this ſtrange vertue,
He hath a heauenly guift of Propheſie,
And ſundry Boffeffings hang about his Throre,
That ſpeake him full of Grace.

Enter Roffe.

Maecl. See who comes hereere.

Malc. My Countryman: but yet I know him nor.

Maecl. My euer gentle Cozen, welcome hither.

Malc. I know him now. Good God betimes remome

The meanes that makes vs Strangers.

Roffe. Sir, Amen.

Maecl. Stands Scotland where it did?

Roffe. Alas poore Counrey,

Almost aſſaide to know it ſelſe. It cannot

Be call'd our Mother, but our Graue; where nothing

But who knowes nothing, is once ſeene to smile:

Where ſighes, and groanes, and ſtricks that rent the ayre

Aie made, not mark'd: Where violent ſorrow ſeemes

A Moderne extaſſe: The Deadmans knell,

Is there ſcarſe ask'd for who, and good mens liues

Expire before the Flowers in their Caps,

Dying, or ere they ſicken.

Maecl. Oh Relation; too nice, and yet too true.

Malc. What's the neweſt grieſe?

Roffe. That of an houres age, doth hihſe the ſpeake,

Each minute teemes a new one.

Maecl. How do's my Wife?

Roffe. Why well.

Maecl. And all my Children?

Roffe. Well too.

Maecl. The Tyrant ha's not batter'd at their peace?

Roffe. No, they were wel at peace, when I did leaue 'em

Maecl. Be not a niggard of your ſpeech: How go's?

Roffe. When I came hither to tranſport the Tydings

Which I haue heauily borne, there ran a Rumour

Of many worthy Fellowes, that were out,

Which was to my beleefe wintne the rather,

For that I ſaw the Tyrants Power a-foot.

Now is the time of helpe: your eye in Scotland

Would create Soldiours, make our women fight,

To doſſe their dire diſtreſſes.

Malc. Bee't their comfort

We are comming thither: Gracious England hath

Lent vs good ſeyward, and ten thouſand men,

An older, and a better ſouldier, none

That Chriſtendome giues out.

Roffe. Would I could anſwer

This comfort with the like. Bue I haue words

That would be howl'd out in the defect ayre,

Where hearing ſhould not latch them.

Maecl. What concerne they,

The generall cauſe, or is it a Fee-grieſe

Due to ſome ſingle breſt?

Roffe. No minde that's honest

But in it ſhares ſome woe, though the maine part

Pertaines to you alone.

Maecl. If it be mine

Keepe it not from me, quickly let me haue it.

Roffe. Let not your eares diſpife my tongue for euer,

Which ſhall poſſeſſe them with the heauieſt found

That euer yet they heard.

Maecl. Humh: I gueſſe at it.

Roffe. Your Caſtle is ſurpriz'd: your Wife, and Babes

Sauagely ſlaughter'd: To relate the manner

Were on the Quarry of theſe murther'd Deere

To adde the death of you.

Malc. Merciſull Heauen:

What man, ne're pull your hat upon your browses:

Gie ſorrow words; the grieſe that do's not ſpeake,

Whiſpers the o'ze-fraught heart, and bids it breake.

Maecl. My Children too?

Ro. Wife, Children, Servants, all that could be found.

Maecl. And I muſt be from thence? My wife kil'd too?

Roffe. I haue faid.

Malc. Be comforted.

Let's make vs Med'cines of our great Reuenge,
To cure this deadly greeſe.

Maecl. He ha's no Children. All my pretty ones?

Did you ſay All? Ob Hell-Kite! All?

What, All my pretty Chickens, and their Damme

At one ſell ſwoope?

Malc. Diſpute it like a man.

Maecl. I shall do so.

No 2

But