Loues Labour's loft.

125

Brag. A moſt fine Figure.

Boy. To proue you a Cypher.

Brag. I will heereupon confesse I am in loue : and as it is baſe for a Souldier to loue ; so am I in loue with a baſe wench. If drawing my ſword againſt the humour of affection, would deliuer mee from the reprebate thought of it, I would take Deſire prifoner, and transome him to any French Courſier for a new deuis'd curſie. I thinke ſcorne to ſigh, me thinkes I ſhould out-ſwearre Cupid, Comfort me Boy, What great men haue beene in loue?

Boy. Hercules Maſter.

Brag. Moſt ſwecie Hercules : more authority deare Boy, name more; and ſweet my childe let them be men of good repute and carriage.

Boy. Sampſon Maſter, he was a man of good carriage, great carriage : for hee carried the Towne-gates on his backe like a Porter; and he was in loue.

Brag. O well-knit Sampſon, ſtrong ioynted Sampſon; I doe excell thee in my rapier, as much as thou didst me in carrying gates. I am in loue too, Who was Sampſons loue my deare Moth ?

Boy. A Woman, Maſter.

Brag. Of what complexion ?

Boy. Of all the foure, or the three, or the two, or one of the foure.

Brag. Tell me precisely of what complexion ?

Boy. Of the sea-water Greene fir.

Brag. Is that one of the ſore complexions ?

Boy. As I haue read ſir, and the beſt of them too.

Brag. Greene indeed is the colour of Lovers: but to haue a ſoue of that colour, methinkes Sampſon had ſmall reaſon for it. He ſurely affected her for her wit.

Boy. It was ſo fir, for ſhe had a greene wit.

Brag. My Loue is moſt immaculate white and red.

Boy. Moſt immaculate thoughts Maſter, are mask'd vnder ſuch colours.

Brag. Define, define, well educated infant.

Boy. My fathers witte, and my mothers tongue affift mee.

Brag. Sweet inuocation of a childe, moſt pretty and patheticall.

Boy. If ſhe be made of white and red,

Her faults will nere be knowne :

For bluſh-in cheekes by faults are bred,

And feares by pale white ſhowne :

Then if the ſeare, or be to blame,

By this you ſhall not know,

For ſill her cheekes poſſeſſe the ſame,

Which natius ſhe doth owe :

A dangerous rime maſter againſt the reaſon of white and redde.

Brag. Is there not a ballet Boy, of the King and the Begger ?

Boy. The world was very guilty of ſuch a Ballet ſome three ages ſince, but I thinke now't is not to be found: or if it were, it would neither ſerue for the writing, nor the tune.

Brag. I will haue that ſubieſt newly writ ore, that I may example my digreſſion by ſome mighty preſident. Boy, I doe loue that Countrey girle that I tooke in the Parke with the rationall hinde Coſard: She deſERVES well.

Boy. To bee whip'd: and yet a better loue then my Maſter.

Brag. Sing Boy, my ſpirit grows heauy in loue.

Boy. And that's great maruell, louing a light wench.

Brag. I ſay ſing.

Boy. Forbeare till this company be paſt.

Enter Clowne, Conſtible, and Wench.

Conſt. Sir, the Dukes pleafure, is that you keepe Coſard ſafe, and you muſt let him take no delight, nor no penance, but hee muſt ſaſt three daies a weeke: for this Damfell, I muſt keepe her at the Parke, ſhee is alowd for the Day-woman. Fare you well.

Exit.

Brag. I do betray my ſelfe with bluſhing: Maide.

Maid. Man.

Brag. I will visit thee at the Lodge.

Maid. That's here by.

Brag. I know where it is ſituate.

Mai. Lord how wife you are !

Brag. I will tell thee wonders.

Ma. With what face?

Brag. I loue thee.

Mai. So I heard you ſay,

Brag. And ſo farewell.

Mai. Faire weather after you.

Clo. Come Iaquenetta, away.

Exeunt.

Brag. Villaine, thou ſhalt ſaſt for thy offences ere thou be pardoned.

Clo. Well fir, I hope when I doe it, I ſhall doe it on a full ſtomacke.

Brag. Thou ſhalt be heauily puniſhed,

Clo. I am more bound to you then your ſellowes, for they are but lightly rewarded.

Clo. Take away this villaine, ſhut him vp.

Boy. Come you transgreſſing ſlaue, away.

Clov. Let me not bee pent vp fir, I will ſaſt being loose.

Boy. No fir, that were ſaſt and loose: thou ſhalt to prifon.

Clov. Well, if either I do fee the merry dayes of deſolation that I haue ſeene, ſome ſhall fee.

Boy. What ſhall ſome ſee ſee ?

Clov. Nay nothing, Maſter Moth, but what they looke vpon. It is not for prifoners to be fileut in their words, and therefore I will ſay nothing: I thanke God, I haue as little patience as another man, and therefore I can be quiet.

Exit.

Brag. I doe affect the very ground (which is baſe) where her ſhooe (which is baſer) guided by her foote (which is baſeſt) doth tread. I ſhall be forſworn (which is a great argument of falſhood) if I loue. And how can that be true loue, which is falſely attempted? Loue is a familiar, Loue is a Diuell. There is no enuill Angell but Loue, yet Sampſon was ſo tempraſt, and he had an excellent ſtrength: Yet was Salomon ſo ſeduced, and hee had a very good witte. Cupids Butſhaft is too hard for Hercules Clubbe, and therefore too much ods for a Spaniards Rapier: The firſt and ſecond cauſe will not ſerue my turne: the Paſſado hee reſpects not, the Duenello he regards not; his diſgrace is to be called Boy, but his glorie is to ſubdue men. Adue Valour, ruſt Rapier, bee ſtill Drum, for your manager is in loue; yea hee loueth. Affift me ſome extemporal god of Rime, for I am ſure I ſhall turne Sonnet. Deuife Wit, write Pen, for I am for whole volumes in folio.

Exiſt.

Finis Albus Primus.

L 3

Albus

126

Loues Labour's loft.

Actus Secunda.

Enter the Princesse of France, with three attending Ladies,
and three Lords.

Boyet. Now Madam fummon vp your deareft Spirits,
Confider who the King your father fends :
To whom he fends, and what's his Embaffie.
Your ſelfe, held precious in the worlds eſteme,
To parlee with the ſole inheritour
Of all perfections that a man may owe,
Matchleſſe Nauarre, the plea of no leſſe weight
Then Aquitaine, a Dowrie for a Queene.
Be now as prodigall of all deare grace,
As Nature was in making Graces deare,
When ſhe did ſtarue the generall world beſide,
And prodigally gaue them all to you.

Queen. Good L. Boyet, my beauty though but mean,
Needs not the painted flourish of your praigne :
Beauty is bought by iudgement of the eye,
Not vttred by bafe ſale of chapmens tongues :
I am leſſe proud to heare you tell my worth,
Then you much wiling to be counted wifc,
In ſpending your wit in the praigne of mine.
But now to taske the tasker, good Boyet,

Prin. You are not ignorant all-telling fame
Doth noyſe abroad Nauar hath made a vow,
Till painefull ſtudie ſhall out-weare three yeares,
No woman may approach his ſilent Court :
Therefore to's ſeemeth it a needfull courſe,
Before we enter his forbidden gates,
To know his pleafure, and in that behalſe
Bold of your worthineſſe, we ſingle you,
As our beſt mouing faire ſolicer :
Tell him, the daughter of the King of France,
On ſerious buſineſſe crauing quicke diſpatch,
Importunes perſonall conference with his grace.
Haſte, ſignifie ſo much while we attend,
Like humble viſag'd ſuters his high will.

Boy. Proud of employment, willingly I goe. Exit.
Prin. All pride is willing pride, and yours is to:
Who are the Votaries my louing Lords, that are vow-
fellowes with this vertuous Duke?

Lor. Longauill is one.

Princ. Know you the man?

1. Lady. I know him Madame at a marriage feast,
Betweene L. Perigort and the beautious heire
Of Jaques Fauconbridge ſolemnized.
In Normandie ſaw I this Longauill,
A man of ſoueraigne parts he is eſteem'd:
Well ſitted in Arts, glorious in Armes:
Nothing becomes him ill that he would well.
The only ſoyle of his faire vertues gloſſe,
If vertues gloſſe will ſtaine with any ſoile,
Is a ſharp wit match'd with too blunt a Will:
Whofe edge hath power to cut whose will ſtill wills,
It should none ſpare that come within his power.

Prin. Some merry mocking Lord belike, it ſo ?

Lad. 1. They ſay ſo moſt, that moſt his humors know.

Prin. Such ſhort liu'd wits do wither as they grow.
Who are the reſt?

2. Lad. The yong Dumaine, a well accompliſht youth,

Of all that Vertue loue, for Vertue loued.
Moſt power to doe moſt harme, leaſt knowing ill;
For he hath wit to make an ill ſhape good,
And ſhape to win grace though ſhe had no wit.
I ſaw him at the Duke. Alanfoes once,
And much too little of that good I ſaw,
Is my report to his great worthineſſe.

Rofa. Another of theſe Students at that time,
Was there with him, as I haue heard a truth.
Berowne they call him, but a merrier man,
Within the limit of becoming mirth,
I neuer ſpent an houres talke withall.
His eye begets occafion for his wit,
For euery obieſt that the one doth catch,
The other turnes to a mirth-mouing iſt.
Which his faire tongue (conceits expofitor)
Deliuers in ſuch apt and gracious words,
That aged eares play treuant at his tales,
And yonger hearings are quite rauiſhed.
So ſweet and voluble is his diſcourſe.

Prin. God bleſſe my Ladies, are they all in loue?
That euery one her owne hath garniſhed,
With ſuch bedecking ornaments of praigne.

Ma. Heere comes Boyet.

Enter Boyet.

Prin. Now, what admittance Lord?

Boyet. Nauar had notice of your faire approach;
And he and his competitors in oath,
Were all addreſt to meete you gentle Lady
Before I came: Marrie thus much I haue learnt,
He rather means to lodge you in the field,
Like one that comes heere to beſiege his Court,
Then ſeeke a diſpenſation for his oath:
To let you enter his vnpeopled houſe.

Enter Nauar, Longauill, Dumaine, and Berowne.

Heere comes Nauar.

Nau. Faire Princeſſe, welcom to the Court of Nauar.

Prin. Faire I giue you backe againe, and welcomel
haue not yet: the rooſe of this Court is too high to bee
yours, and welcome to the wide fields, too bafe to be
mine.

Nau. You ſhall be welcome Madam to my Court.

Prin. I will be welcome then, Conduſt me thither.

Nau. Heare me deare Lady, I haue ſworne an oath.

Prin. Our Lady helpe my Lord, he'll be forſworne.

Nau. Not for the world faire Madam, by my will.

Prin. Why, will ſhall breake it will, and nothing els.

Nau. Your Ladiſhip is ignorant what it is.

Prin. Were my Lord ſo, his ignorancer were wife,
Where now his knowledge muſt proue ignorancer.
I heare your grace hath ſworne out Houſekeeping:
'Tis deadly finne to keepe that oath my Lord,
And finne to breake it:
But pardon me, I am too ſodaine bold,
To teach a Teacher ill befeemeth me.

Vpuchſaſe to read the purpofe of my comming,
And ſodainly ſefolue me in my ſuite.

Nau. Madam, I will, if ſodainly I may.
Prin. You will the ſooner that I were away,
For you'll proue periu'd if you make me ſtay.

Berown. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?

Rofa. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?

Eer. 1

Loues Labour's loft.

127

Ber. I know you did.

Rofa. How needlefle was it then to ask the question?

Ber. You must not be so quicke.

Rofa. 'Tis long of you I'pur me with such questions.

Ber. Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'twill tire.

Rofa. Not till it leaue the Rider in the mire.

Ber. What time a day?

Rofa. The howre that fooles should aske.

Ber. Now faire befall your maske.

Rofa. Faire fall the face it couers.

Ber. And if you many louers.

Rofa. Amen, to you benone.

Ber. Nay then will I be gone.

Kim. Madame, your father heere doth intimate,
The paiment of a hundred thousand Crownes,
Being but th'one halfe, of an intire fumme,
Disburfed by my father in his warres.

But fay that he, or we, as neither haue
Receiu'd that fumme; yet there remains vnpaid
A hundred thousand more: in furety of the which,
One part of *Aquitaine* is bound to vs,
Although not valued to the moneys worth.
If then the King your father will reflore
But that one halfe which is vnfatiſs'd,
We will giue vp our right in *Aquitaine*.

And hold faire friendſhip with his Maieflie:
But that it ſeemes he little purpofeth,
For here he doth demand to haue repaie,
An hundred thousand Crownes, and not demands
One paiment of a hundred thousand Crownes,
To haue his title live in *Aquitaine*.

Which we much rather had depart withall,
And haue the money by our father lent,
Then *Aquitaine*, ſo guiedel as it is.

Deare Princesſſe, were not his requeſts ſo farre
From reaſons yeelding, your faire ſelfe should make
A yeelding 'gainſt ſome reaſon in my breſt,
And goe well ſatiſed to France againe.

Prin. You doe the King my Father too much wrong,
And wrong the reputation of your name,
In ſo vnſleeming to confefſe receyt
Of that which hath ſo faithfully beene paid.

Kim. I doe proteſt I neuer heard of it,
And if you proue it, Ile repay it backe,
Or yeeld vp *Aquitaine*.

Prin. We arreft your word :

Boyet, you can produce acquittances
For ſuch a fumme, from ſpeciall Officers,
Of Charles his Father.

Kim. Satisfie me ſo.

Boyet. So pleafe your Grace, the packet is not come
Where that and other ſpecialties are bound,
To morrow you ſhall haue a fight of them.

Kim. It ſhall ſuſſe me; at which enterview,
All liberall reaſon would I yeeld vnto:

Meane time, receiue ſuch welcome at my hand,
As Honour, without breach of Honour may
Make tender of, to thy true worthineſſe.

You may not come faire Princesſſe in my gates,
But heere without you ſhall be ſo receiu'd,

As you ſhall deeme your ſelfe lodg'd in my heart,
Though ſo deni'd farther harbour in my house :

Your owne good thoughts excufe me, and farewell,
To morrow we ſhall visit you againe.

Prin. Sweet health & faire deſires conſort your grace.

Kim. Thy own wifh with I thee, in euery place. Exit.

Boy. Lady, I will commend you to my owne heart.

La. Ro. Pray you doe my commendations,

I would be glad to fee it.

Boy. I would you heard it grone.

La. Ro. Is the foule ſicke :

Boy. Sicke at the heart.

La. Ro. Alacke, let it bloud.

Boy. Would that doe it good?

La. Ro. My Phificke faies I.

Boy. Will you prick't with your eye.

La. Ro. No poynt, with my knife.

Boy. Now God faue thy life.

La. Ro. And yours from long liuing.

Ber. I cannot ſtay thankſi-giuing.

Exit.

### Enter Dumane.

Dum. Sir, I pray you a word: What Lady is that fame?

Boy. The heire of *Alanfon*, *Rofalin* her name.

Dum. A gallant Lady, Mounſier fare you well.

Long. I beſeech you a word: what is ſhe in the white?

Boy. A woman ſontimes, if you ſaw her in the light.

Long. Perchance light in the light: I deſire her name.

Boy. Shee hath but one for her ſelfe,

To deſire that were a ſhame.

Long. Pray you fir, whoſe daughter ?

Boy. Her Mothers, I haue heard.

Long. Gods bleſſing a your beard.

Boy. Good fir be not ſoffended,

Shee is an heyre of *Faulconbridge*.

Long. Nay, my choller is ended :

Shee is a moſt (weet) Lady.

Boy. Not vnlike fir, that may be.

Exit. Long.

### Enter Beroune.

Ber. What's her name in the cap.

Boy. Katherine by good hap.

Ber. Is ſhe wedded, or no.

Boy. To her will fir, or ſo.

Boy. You are welcome fir, adiew.

Boy. Fare well to me fir, and welcome to you: Exit.
La. Ma. That laſt is *Beroune*, the mery mad-cap Lord.

Not a word with him, but a jeſt.

Boy. And euery jeſt but a word.

Pri. It was well done of you to take him at his word.

Boy. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to boord.

La. Ma. Two hot Sheepes marie :

And wherefore not Ships?

Boy. No Sheepe (sweet Lamb) vnleſſe we feed on your

La. You Sheep & I pafture : (shall that finſh the jeſt ?

Boy. So you grant pafture for me.

La. Not to gentle beaſt.

My lips are no Common, though ſeuerall they be.

Boy. Belonging to whom?

La. To my fortunes and me.

Prin. Good wits will be angling, but gentles agree
This ciuill warre of wits were much better vſed

On *Nanar* and his bookemen, for heere 'tis abus'd.

Bo. If my obſeruation (which very ſeldome lies)

By the hearts fill rhetoricke, diſcloſed with eyes)

Deceiue me not now, *Nanar* is inſected.

Prin. With what?

Bo. With that which we Louers intide affected.

Prin. Your reaſon.

Bo. Why all his behauiours doe make their retire,
To the court of his eye, peeping thorough deſide.

His hart like an Agot with your print impreſſed,

Proud

Loues Labour's loft.

128

Proud with his forme,in his eie pride expreſſed.

His tongue all impatient to ſpeake and not fee,

Did tumble with haſte in his eie-fight to be,

All fences to that fence did make their repaire,

To feele onely looking on faireſt of faire :

Me thought all his fences were lockt in his eye,

As Iewels in Chriſtall for ſome Prince to buy.

(glaſt,
Who tendring their own worth from whence they were
Did point out to buy them along as you paſt.

His faces owne margent did coate ſuch amazes,

That all eyes ſaw his eies inchanted with gazes.

Ile giue you *Aquitaine*,and all that is his,

And you giue him for my ſake,but one louing Kifle.

*Prin.* Come to our Pauilion, *Boyet* is dilpofe.

Bro. But to ſpeak that in words, which his eie hath dif-
I onelie haue made a mouth of his eie,
(clos'd.
By adding a tongue, which I know will not lie.

*Lad. Ro.* Thou art an old Loue-monger, and ſpeakeſt skilfully.

*Lad. Ma.* He is Cupids Grandfather, and learnes news of him.

*Lad. 2.* Then was *Venus* like her mother, for her father is but grim.

Boy. Do you heare my mad wenches ?

La. 1. No.

Boy. What then, do you ſee ?

Lad. 2. I, our way to be gone.

Boy. You are too hard for me.

Exeunt omnes.

Actus Tertius.

Enter Brovgart and Boy.
Song.

Bra. Warble childe, make passionate my ſense of hea-
ring.

Boy. Concolinel.

Brag. Sweete Ayer, go tenderneſſe of yeares: take
this Key, giue enlargement to the ſwaine, bring him fe-
ſtinatly hither: I muſt imploy him in a letter to my
Loue.

Boy. Will you win your loue with a French braule?

Bra. How meaneſt thou, brauling in French?

Boy. No my compleat maſter, but to ligge off a tune at the tongues end, canarie to it with the feete, humour it with turning vp your eie: ſigh a note and ſing a note, ſometime through the throat: if you ſwallowed loue with ſinging, loue ſometime through: no ſe as if you ſouſt vp loue by ſmelling loue with your hat penthouſe-like ore the ſhop of your eies, with your armes croft on your thinbellie doublet, like a Rabbet on a ſpit, or your hands in your pocket, like a man after the old painting, and keepe not too long in one tune, but a ſnip and away: theſe are complements, theſe are humours, theſe betraie nice wenches that would be betraied without theſe, and make them men of note: do you note men that moſt are affected to theſe?

Brag. How haſt thou purchafed this experience ?

Boy. By my penne of obſeruation.

Brag. But O, but O.

Boy. The Hobbie-horſe is forſe.

Bra. Calſt thou my loue Hobbi-horſe.

Boy. No Maſter, the Hobbie-horſe is but a Colt, and
and your Loue perhaps, a Hacknie :

But haue you forgot your Loue?

Brag. Almost I had.

Boy. Negligent ſudent, learne her by heart.

Brag. By heart, and in heart Boy.

Boy. And out of heart Maſter: all thatſe three I will
proue.

Brag. What wilt thou proue ?

Boy. A man, if I liue (and this) by, in, and without, vp-
on the inſant: by heart you loue her, becauſe your heart
cannot come by her: in heart you loue her, becauſe your
heart is in loue with her: and out of heart you loue her,
being out of heart that you cannot enioy her.

Brag. I am all thatſe three.

Boy. And three times as much more, and yet nothing at all.

Brag. Fetch hither the Swaine, he muſt carrie mee a
letter.

Boy. A meſſage well ſim pathis'd, a Horſe to be em-
baſladour for an Aſſe.

Brag. Ha, ha, What ſaieſt thou ?

Boy. Marrie fir, you muſt ſend the Aſſe vpon the Horſe for he is verie flow-gated: but I goe.

Brag. The way is but ſhort, away.

Boy. As ſwift as Lead fir.

Brag. Thy meaning prettie ingenious, is not Lead a
mettall haueie, dull, and flow ?

Boy. Minnime honet Maſter, or rather Maſter no.

Brag. I ſay Lead is flow.

Boy. You are too ſwift fir to ſay ſo.

Is that Lead flow which a ſir'd from a Gunne?

Brag. Sweete ſmoke of Rhetorike,

He reputes me a Cannon, and the Bullet that's he :
I ſhooe thee at the Swaine.

Boy. Thump then, and I ſee.

Bra. A moſt acute ſuuenall, voluble and free of grace,
By thy taunet ſwet Welkin, I muſt ſigh in thy face.

Moſt rude melancholie, Vaiour giues thee place.

My Herald is return'd.

Enter Page and Clowne.

Pag. A wonder Maſter, here's a Cofſard broken in a
ſhin.

Ar. Some enigma, ſome riddle, come, thy Lennuy
begin.

Clo. No egna, no riddle, no lenuy, no ſalue, in thee male fir. Or fir, Plantan, a plaine Plantan: no lenuy, no lenuy, no ſalue fir, but a Plantan.

Ar. By verſe thou inſorceſt laughter, thy ſillie
thought, my ſpleene, the heauing of my lunges prouokes
me to rediculous ſmyling: O pardon me my ſtars, doth
the inconfiderate take ſalue for lenuy, and the word len-
uy for a ſalue?

Pag. Doe the wife thinke them other, is not lenuy a
ſalue? (plaine,

Ar. No Page, it is an epilogue or diſcourse to make
Some obſcure precedence that hath tofore bin ſaine.

Now will I begin your morrall, and do you follow with
my lenuy.

The Foxe, the Ape, and the Humble-Bee,
Were ſtill at oddes, being but three.

Arm. Vntill the Goofe came out of doore,
Staying the oddes by adding ſoure.

Pag. A good Lenuy, ending in the Goofe: would you
deliſe more?

Clo. The Boy hath ſold him a bargaine, a Goofe, that's flat

Loves Labour's loft.

129

Sir, your penny-worth is good, and your Goofe be fat.
To fell a bargaine well is as cunning as faft and loofe:
Let me see a fat Lenuy, I that's a fat Goofe.

Ar. Come hither, come hither :

How did this argument begin ?

Boy. By laying that a Cofard was broken in a Shin.

Then cal'd you for the Lenuoy.

CLOW. True, and I for a Plantan :

Thus came your argument in :

Then the Boyes fat Lenuoy, the Goofe that you bought,
And he ended the market.

Ar. But tell me : How was there a Cofard broken in a Shin?

Pag. I will tell you fencibly.

CLOW. Thou haft no feeling of it Moth,

I will speake that Lenuoy.

I Cofard running out, that was safely within,
Fell ouer the threshold, and broke my Shin.

Arm. We will talke no more of this matter.

CLOW. Till there be more matter in the Shin.

Arm. Sirra Cofard, I will unfranchife thee.

CLOW. O, marrie me to one Francis, I smell some Lenuoy, some Goofe in this.

Arm. By my sweete foule, I meane, fetting thee at liberty. Entrefoming thy perſon : thou wert emured, refrained, captiſed, bound.
CLOW. True, true, and now you will be my purgation, and let me looke.

Arm. I giue thee thy libertie, fet thee from durance,
and in lieu thereof, impoſe on thee nothing but this :
Beare this ſignificant to the countrey Maide *laquenetta* :
there is remuneration, for the beſt ward of mine honours
is rewarding my dependants. Moth follow.

Pag. Like the fequell I.

Signeur Cofard adew.

Exit.

CLOW. My sweete ouſtome of man's ſlesh, my in-conſi
Lew. Now will I looke to his remuneration.
Remuneration, O, that's the Latine word for three-far-
things: Three farthings remuneration, What's the price
of this ycle ? I, d'no, I'll giue you a remuneration : Why?
It carries it remuneration : Why? It is a fairer name then
a French-Crowne. I will neuer buy and ſell out of this
word.

Enter Berowne.

Ber. O my good knaue Cofard, exceedingly well met.

CLOW. Pray you, Mr. How much Carnation Ribbon
may a man buy for a remuneration ?

Ber. What is a remuneration ?

Cof. Matrie fir, halſe pennie farthing.

CLOW. O, Why then threefarthings woth of Silke.

Cof. I thanke your woffhip, God be wy you.

Ber. O play ſlaue, I muſt employ thee :

As thou wilt win my ſanour, good my knaue,
Doe one thing for me that I shall intreate.

CLOW. When would you have it done fir ?

Ber. O this after-noone.

Clo. Well, I will do it fir : Fare you well.

Ber. O thou knowest not what it is.

Clo. I shall know fir, when I have done it.

Ber. Why villaine that muſt know firſt.

Clo. I will come to your worſhip to morrow morning.

Ber. It muſt be done this after-noone.

Harke ſlaue it is but this :

The Princesſe comes to hunt here in the Parke,

And in her traine there is a gentle Ladie :

When tongues ſpeak ſweetly, then they name her name,
And Rosaline they call her, aske for her :

And to her white land fee thou do commend

This feal'd-vp confaile. Ther's thy guerdon : goe.

Clo. Gardon, O sweete gardon, better then remuneration, a leuenpence-farthing better : moſt weete gardon. I will doe it fir in print : gardon, remuneration.

Exit.

Ber. O, and I forſooth in loue,
I that haue beene loues whip ?

A verie Beadle to a humorous ſigh : A Criticke,
Nay, a night-watch Conſtable.

A domineering pedant ore the Boy,
Then whom no mortall ſo magnificent.

This wimpled, whyning, purblinde waiward Boy,
This fignor *Iunios* gyant drawſe, don Cupid,

Regent of Loue-rimes, Lord of folded armes,
I annointed foureraigne of ſighes and groanes :

Liedge of all loyterers and malecontents :

Dread Prince of Placcats, King of Codpreces.

Sole Emperator and great general

Of trotting Parrators (O my little heart.)

And I to be a Corporall of his fields.

And weare his colours like a Tumblers hoope.

What ? Houe, I ſue, I ſeeke a wife,

A woman that is like a Germane Cloake,
Still a repairing : euer out of frame,

And neuer going a right, being a Watch :

But being watcht, that it may till goe right.

Nay, to be periurde, which is worſt of all :

And among three, to loue the worſt of all,
A whity wanton, with a veluet brow.

With two pitch bals ſtucke in her face for eyes.

I, and by heauen, one that will doe the deed,
Though *Argus* were her Eunuch and her garde.

And I to fight for her, to watch for her,

To pray for her, go to : it is a plague

That Cupid will impoſe for my neglect,

Of his almighty dreadfull little might.

Well, I will loue, write, ſigh, pray, ſhue, grone,

Some men muſt loue my Lady, and ſome lone.

Abus Quartus.

Enter the Princesſe, a Forreſter, her Ladies, and her Lords.

Qu. Was that the King that ſpurd his horse ſo hard,
Against the ſleepe vpriling of the hill ?

Boy. I know not, but I thinke it was not he.

Qu. Who ere a was, a ſhew'd a mounting minde:
Well Lords, to day we ſhall haue our dispath,
On Saturday we will returne to France.

Then Forreſter my friend, Where is the Buſh

That we muſt land and play the murtherer in ?

For. Hereby vpon the edge of yonder Coppice,
A stand where you may make the faireſt ſhoote.

Qu. I thanke my beautie, I am faire that ſhoote,
And thereupon thou ſpeak it the faireſt ſhoote.

For. Pardon me Madam, for I meant not so.

Qu. What, what? First praſe me, & then again ſay no.
O ſhort liu'd pride. Not faire ? alacke for woe.

For. Yes

Loues Labour's loft.

130

For. Yes Madam faire.

Qu. Nay, neuer paint me now,

Where faire is not, praeife cannot mend the brow.

Here (good my glaſſe) take this for telling true:

Faire paiment for ſoule words, is more then due.

For. Nothing but faire is that which you inherit.

Qu. See, see, my beautit will be ſau'd by merit.

O hereſe in faire, fit for theſe dayes,

A giuing hand, though ſoule, ſhall haue faire praeſe.

But come, the Bow : Now Mercie goes to kill,

And ſhooting well, is then accounted ill :

Thus will I ſau my credit in the ſhooſte,

Not wounding, pittie would not let me do't :

If wounding, then it was to ſhew my skill,

That more for prai', then purpose meant to kill.

And out of queſtion, ſo it is sometimes :

Glory growes guiltie of deteſted crimes,

When for Fames ſake, for praeſe an outward part,

We bend to that, the working of the hart.

As I for praeſe alone now ſeeke to ſpil

The poore Deeres blood, that my heart meanes no ill.

Boy. Do not curſt wines hold that ſelſe-ſoueraightie

Onely for praeſe ſake, when they ſtrie to be

Lords ore their Lords ?

Qu. Onely for praeſe, and praeſe we may afford,

To any Lady that ſubſdewes a Lord.

Enter Clowne.

Boy. Here comes a member of the common-wealth.

Clo. God dig-you-den all, pray you which is the head
Lady ?

Qu. Thou ſhalt know her fellow, by the reſt that haue
no heads.

Clo. Which is the greatest Lady, the highest?

Qu. The thickeſt, and the tallest.

Clo. The thickeſt, & the tallest: it is ſo, truth is truth.

And your wafe Miftris, were as Slender as my wit,

One a theſe Maides girdles for your wafe ſhould be ſit.

Are not you the chiefe womar? You are the thickeſt here?

Qu. What's your will ſir? What's your will?

Clo. I haue a Letter from Monſier Berowne,

To one Lady Rofaline.

Qu. O thy letter, thy letter: He's a good friend of mine.

Stand a ſide good bearer.

Boyet, you can carue,

Breake vp this Capon.

Boyet. I am bound to ſerue.

This Letter is miſſooke : it importeth none here :

It is writ to Iaquenetta.

Qu. We will reade it, I ſweare.

Breake the necke of the Waxe, and euery one giue eare.

Boyet readers.

By heauen, that thou art faire, is moſt infallible: true
that thou art, beauteous, truth it ſelſe that thou art
louely : more fairer then faire, beautiſul then beautiſous,
truer then truth it ſelſe: haue comſeration on thy heroi-
call Vassall. The magnanimous and meſt illuſtrate King
Copbetua, ſet eie pioni the pernicious and indubitable Beg-
ger Zenelophon: and he it was that might rightly ſay, Ve-
ni, vidi, vici: Which to annothenize in the vulgar, O
bafe and obſeure vulgar; videlſet, He came, See, and o-
uercame: hee came one: ſee, two: couer came three:
Who came ? the King. Why did he come ? to ſee. Why

did he ſee ? to ouercome. To whom came he ? to the
Begger. What faw he ? the Begger. Who ouercame
he ? the Begger. The conſclusion is viſtorie: On whose
ſide ? the King: the captive is inricht: On whose ſide?
the Beggers. The cataſtrophe is a Nuptiall: on whose
ſide ? the Kings: no, on both in one, or one in both. I am
the King (for ſo ſtands the comparifon) thou the Beg-
ger, for ſo witneſſeth thy lowlineſſe. Shall I command
thy loue ? I may. Shall I enforce thy loue ? I could.
Shall I entreate thy loue ? I will. What, ſhalt thou ex-
change for ragges, roabes: for tittles titles, for thy ſelſe
mee. Thus expeſting thy reply, I prophane my lips on
thy ſoote, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy
euerie part.

Thine in the deareſt deſſigne of industrie,

Don Adriana de Armatho.

Thus doſt thou haſre the Nemean Lion roare,
Gainſt thee thou Lambe, that ſtandeſt as his pray :

Submiſſie fall his princely ſeete before,

And he from forrage will incline to play.

But if thou ſtrive (poore ſoule) what art thou then?

Foode for his rage, repaſture for his den.

Qu. What plume of feathers is hee that indited this
Letter? What veine? What Wethercocke? Did you
euer heare better ?

Boy. I am much deceiued, but I remember the ſfile,

Qu. Elſe your memorie is bad, going ore it erewhile.

Boy. This Armado is a Spaniard that keeps here in court
A Phantasime, a Monarcho, and one that makes ſport
To the Prince and his Booſe-mates.

Qu. Thou ſellow, a word.

Who gane thee this Letter ?

Clow. I told you, my Lord,

Qu. To whom ſhould ſt thou giue it?

Clo. From my Lord to my Lady.

Qu. From which Lord, to which Lady?

Clo. From my Lord Berowne, a good maſter of mine,
To a Lady of France, that he call'd Rofaline.

Qu. Thou haſt miſtaken his letter. Come Lords away.
Here I ſweete, put vp this, twill be thine another day.

Exemnt.

Boy. Who is the shooter ? Who is the shooter ?

Rofa. Shall I teach you to know.

Boy. I my continent of beautie.

Rofa. Why ſhe that beares the Bow. Finely put off.

Boy. My Lady goes to kill hornes, but if thou marrie,
Hang me by the necke, if hornes that yeare miſcarrie
Finely put on.

Rofa. Well then, I am the shooter.

Boy. And who is your Deare?

Rofa. If we choose by the hornes, your ſelſe come not
neare. Finely put on indeede.

Maria. You full wrangle with her Boyet, and ſnee
strikes at the brow.

Boyet. But ſhe her ſelſe is hit lower : Haue I hit her now.

Rofa. Shall I come vpon thee with an old ſaying, that
was a man when King Pippin of France was a little boy, as
touching the hit it.

Boyet. So I anſwere thee with one as old that
was a woman when Queene Guinouer of Brittaines was a
little wench, as touching the hit it.

Rofa. Thou

Loves Labour's loft.

131

Rafa. Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it,
Thou canst not hit it my good man.

Boy. I cannot, cannot, cannot:

And I cannot, another can. Exit.

Clo. By my troth most pleasant, how both did fit it.

Mar. A mark marvellous well shot, for they both
did hit.

Boy. A mark, O marke but that marke faies
my Lady.

Let the mark haue a pricke in't, to meat at, if it may be.

Mar. Wide a'th bow hand, yfaith your hand is out.

Clo. Indeede a must shoote nearer, or heele ne're hit
the clout.

Boy. And if my hand be out, then belike your hand
is in.

Clo. Then will shee get the vph shoot by cleaving the
is in.

Ma. Come, come, you talke greafely, your lips grow
foule.

Clo. She's too hard for you at pricks, fir challenge her
to boule.

Boy. I feare too much rubbing: good night my good
Dule.

Clo. By my foule a Swaine, a most simple Clowne.
Lord, Lord, how the Ladies and I have put him downe.
O my troth most sweete ieſte, most inconie vulgar wit,
When it comes so smoothly off, so obſcenely, as it were,
so fit.

Armathor ath to the side, O a most dainty man.

To see him walke before a Lady, and to beare her Fan.

To see him kisse his hand, and how most sweetly a will
ſware:

And his Page atother ſide, that handfull of wit,

Ah heauens, it is most patheticall nit.

Sowla, Sowla.

Shoote within.

Enter Dull, Holofernes, the Pedant and Nathaniel.

Nat. Very reuerent ſport truely, and done in the eſti-
mony of a good confidence.

Ped. The Deare was (as you know) ſanguis in blod,
ripe as a Pomwater, who now hangeth like a lewell in
the ear of Celo the ſkie; the welken the heauen, and a-
non ſalleth like a Crab on the face of Terra, the ſoyle, the
land, the earth.

Curat. Nath. Truely M. Holofernes, the epythites are
ſwectly varied like a ſcholler at the leaſt: but fir I affure
ye, it was a Bucke of the firſt head.

Hol. Sir Nathaniel, hand credo.

Dul. 'Twas not a hand credo, 'twas a Pricket.

Hol. Most barbarous intimation: yet a kinde of inſi-
nuation, as it were in via, in way of explication facere : as
it were replication, or rather offentare, to ſhow as it were
his inclination after his vnndreffed, vnpoliſhed, vneduca-
ted, vnpruned, vntrained, or rather vnlettered, or rathet-
reſt vnconfirmed fashion, to inſert againe my hand credo
for a Deare.

Dul. I said the Deare was not a hand credo, 'twas a
Pricket.

Hol. Twice ſod simplicitie, bis coſtus, O thou mon-
ſter Ignorance, how deformed dooſt thou looke.

Nath. Sir hee hath neuer ſed of the dainties that are
bred in a booke.

He hath not eate paper as it were:

He hath not drunke inke.

His intellect is not repleniſhed, hee is onely an animall,
onely ſenſible in the duller parts: and ſuch barren plants
are ſet before vs, that we thankfull ſhould be: which we
taſte and feeling, are for thofe parts that doe fruſtifie in
vs more then he.

For as it would ill become me to be vaine, indiſcreet, or
a foole;

So were there a patch ſet on Learning, to ſee him in a
Schoole.

But omne bene ſay I, being of an old Fathers minde,

Many can brooke the weather, that loue not the winde.

Dul. You two are book-men: Can you tell by your
wit, What was a month old at Cains birth, that's not ſiue
weekes old as yet?

Hol. Dittisima goodman Dul, dittisima goodman
Dull,

Dull. What is dittima?

Nath. A title to Phebe, to Luna, to the Moone.

Hol. The Moone was a month old when Adam was
no more. (ſcore.

And wrought not to ſiue-weekes when he came to ſiue-
Th'alluſion holds in the Exchange.

Dul. 'Tis true indeede, the Colluſion holds in the
Exchange.

Hol. God comfort thy capacity, if thy alluſion holds
in the Exchange.

Dul. And I ſay the poluſion holds in the Exchange:
for the Moone is neuer but a month old: and I ſay be-
ſide that, 'twas a Pricket that the Princeſle kill'd.

Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you heare an extemporall
Epytaph on the death of the Deare, and to humour
the ignorant call'd the Deare, the Princesſe kill'd a
Pricket.

Nath. Perge, good M. Holofernes, perge, so it ſhall
pleafe you to abrogate ſcurilitie.

Hol. I will ſomething affect the letter, for it argues
facilitie.

The prays full Princesſe peart and pricks
a pretty pleafing Prickes,

Somc ſay a Sore, but not a ſore,
till now made ſore with shooting.

The Dagges did yelſ, pnt ell to Sore,
then Sorell iumps from threget.

Or Pricket ſore, or eſſe Sorell,
the people fall a hooting.

If Sore be ſore, then ell to Sore,
makes fifſie ſores O ſorell :

Of one ſore I an hundred make
by adding but one more L.

Nath. A rare talent.

Dul. If a talent be a claw, looke how he clawes him
with a talent.

Nath. This is a gift that I haue ſimple: ſimple, a ſoo-
lif ſextraugant ſpirit, full of formes, figures, ſhapes, ob-
ieſts, Ideas, apprehensions, motions, reuolutions. Thefe
are begot in the ventricle of memorie, nouriſht in the
wombe of primater, and deliuered vpon the mellowing
of occafion : but the gift is good in thofe in whom it is
acute, and I am thankfull for it.

Hol. Sir, I praiseth the Lord for you, and so may my
parifhioners, for their Sonnes are well tutor'd by you,
and their Daughters profit very greatly vnder you: you
are a good member of the common-wealth.

Nath. Me herele, If their Sonnes be ingenious, they
shall

Loues Labour's loft.

132

Shall want no instruction; If their Daughters be capable,
I will put it to them. But *Vir fapris qui paucis loquitur, a
foule Feminine saluteth vs.*

Enter Iaquenetta and the Clowne.

Iaqu. God give you good morrow Mr Person.

Natb. Master Person, quaſi Person? And if one should
be perſt, Which is the one?

Cla. Marry M. Schoolemaster, hee that is liketh to a
hogshead.

Natb. Of perſing a Hogshead, a good luſter of con-
ceit in a curph of Earth, ſire enough for a Flint, Pearle
enough for a Swine: 'tis prettie, it is well.

Iaqu. Good Master Parſon be so good as reade mee
this Letter, it was giuen mee by Coſtard, and ſent mee
from Don Armatho : I beſeech you reade it.

Natb. Facile precor gellida, quando pecas omnia sub vmbra ruminaat, and ſo forth. Ah good old Mantuan, I may ſpeake of thee as the traueiler doth of Venice, vemchie, vencha, que non te vnde, que non te perreche. Old Mantuan, old Mantuan. Who vnde landeth thee not, vt re ſol la mi fa'. Vnde pardon fir, What are the contents? or rather as Horace fayes in his, What my ſoule verſes.

Hol. I fir, and very learned.

Natb. Let me heare a ſtaffe, a ſtanze, a verſe, Lege demine.

If Loue make me forſworne, how ſhall I ſweare to loue?
Ah neuer faith could hold, if not to beautei vowed.
Though to my ſelfe forſworn, to thee Ile faithfuln proue.
Thofe thoughts to mee were Okes, to thee like Oſiers
bowed.

Studie his byas leaues, and makes his booke thine eyes.
Where all those pleatures lie, that Art would compre-
hend.

If knowledge be the marke, to know thee ſhall ſuffice.
Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee comend.
All ignorant that foule, that fees thee without wonder.
Which is to me ſome pralſe, that I thy parts admire;
Thy eye Jones lightning beares, thy voyce his dreadfull
thunder.

Which not to anger bent, is maſique, and ſweet fire.
Celestiall as thou art, Oh pardon loue this wrong,
That ſings heauens pralſe, with ſuch an earthly tongue.

Ped. You finde not the apoſtraphas, and ſo miſſe the
accent. Let me ſupereuſe the cangent.

Natb. Here are onely numbers ratified, but for the
elegancy, facility, & golden cadence of poſſe caret: O
niddius Nafe was the man. And why in deed Nafe, but
for ſmelling out the odorous flowers of fancy? the
ieterks of inuention imitarie is nothing: So doth the
Hound his maſter, the Ape his keeper, the tyred Horſe
his rider: But Damofella virgin, Was this directed to
you?

Iaqu. I ſir from one mounſier Berowne, one of the
ſtrange Queenes Lords.

Natb. I will ouerglance the ſuperscript.

To the ſnow white hand of the moſt beauteous Lady Rosaline,
I will looke againe on the intelleſt of the Letter, for
the nomination of the partie written to the perſon writ-
ten vnto.

Your Ladiships in all defired employment, Berowne.

Per. Sir Holoſferner, this Berowne is one of the Votaries
with the King, and here he hath framed a Letter to a ſe-
quent of the ſtranger Queenes: which accidentally, or
by the way of progression, hath miſcarried. Trip and

goe my ſweete, deliuer this Paper into the hand of the
King, it may concernemuch: ſay not thy complement, I
forgive thy duetie, adue.

Maid. Good Coſtard go with me:

Sir God faue your life.

Coſtard. Hau with thee my girl.

Exit.

Hol. Sir you haue done this in the ſeare of God very
religiously: and as a certaine Father faith

Peda. Sir tell not me of the Father, I do ſeare coloura-
ble colours. But to returne to the Verſes, Did they plearſe
you fir Nathaniel?

Natb. Maruèlieous well for the pen.

Peda. I do dine to day at the fathers of a certaine Pu-
pill of mine, where if (being repaſt) it ſhall plearſe you to
gratifie the table with a Grace, I will on my priuilleged I
haue with the parents of the ſoreſaid Childe or Pupill,
vndertake your bien vonuto, where I will proue thatſe
Verſes to be very vnlearned, neither ſavouring of
Poetrie, Wit, nor Inuention. I beſeech your So-
cietie.

Nat. And thanke you to: for ſocietie (faith the text)
is the happinesſe of life.

Peda. And certes the text moſt infallibly concludes it,
sir I do inuite you too, you ſhall not ſay me may: paucas
verba.

Away, the gentles are at their game, and we will to our
recreation.

Exeunt.

Enter Berowne with a Paper in his hand, alone.

Bero. The King he is hunting the Deare,
I am courting my ſelfe.

They haue pitcht a Toyle, I am toyling in a pyrch,
pitch that defiles; defile, a ſoule word: Well, ſet thee
downe forrow; for ſo they ſay the ſoole ſaid, and ſo ſay
I, and I the ſoole: Well proued wit. By the Lord I
Loue is as mad as Aiax, it kils ſheepe, it kils mee, I a
ſheepe: Well proued againe a my ſide. I will not loue;
if I do hang me: yfaith I will not. O but her eye: by
this light, but for her eye, I would not loue her; yes, for
her two eyes. Well, I doe nothing in the world but lye,
and lye in my throat. By heauen I doe loue, and it hath
trought mee to Rime, and to be mallicholie: and here it
part of my Rime, and heere my mallicholie. Well, ſhe
hath one a'my Sonnets already, the Clowne bore it, the
Foole ſent it, and the Lady hath it: sweet Clowne, ſwee-
ter Foole, ſweeteſt Lady. By the world, I would not care
a pin, if the other three were in. Here comes one with a
paper, God give him grace to grone.

He stands aſide.

The King entreth.

Kin. Aymee!

Ber. Shot by heaven: proceede ſweet Cupid, thou haſt
chumpt him with thy Birdbolt vnder the left pap in faith
secrets.

King. So ſweete a kiffle the golden Sunne giues not,
To thofe fresh morning drops vpon the Rote,
As thy eye beames, when their fresh rayſe haue ſmot.
The niglit of dew that on my cheekes downe flowers.
Nor ſhines the filuer Moone one halfe so bright,
Through the transparent boſome of the deepe,
As doth thy face through teares of mine giue light:
Thou ſhin't in euery teare that I doe weepe,
No drop, but as a Coach doth carry thee:
So rideſt thou triuempting in my woe.
Do but behold the teares that ſwell in me,
And they thy glory through my griefe will show:

But

Loues Labour's loft.

133

But doe not loue thy selfe, then thou wilt keepe
My teares for glaſſes, and full make me weepe.
O Queene of Queens, how farre doſt thou excell,
No thought can twinke,nor tongue of mortall tell.
How ſhall she know my griefes? Ile drop the paper.
Sweet leaues ſhade folly. Who is he comes here?

Enter Longaule.

The King steps aside.

What Longaule, and reading : liffen ake.

Ber. Now in thy likeneſſe, one more ſoole appeare.

Long. Ay me, I am forſtworne.

Ber. Why he comes in like a periure, wearing papers.

Long. In Loue I hope, ſweet fellowship in ſhame.

Ber. One drunkard loues another of the name.

Lon. Am I the firſt yhaue been periu'd to? (know,

Ber. I could put thee in comfort, not by two that I
Thou makeſt the triumphery, the corner cap of ſocietie,
The shape of Loues Tiburne, that hangs vp ſimplicitie.

Lon. I feare theſe stubborn lines lack power to moue.
O sweet Maria, Empreſſe of my Loue,
Theſe numbers will I teare, and write in profane.

Ber. O Rimes are gards on wanton Cupids hole,
Disfigure not his Shop.

Lon. This fame ſhall goe.

He reades the Sonnet.

Did not the heavenly Rhetorick of thine eye,

Gainſt whom the world cannot hold argument,
Perſwade my heart to thus false periurie?

Vowes for thee broſſe, deferne not puniſhment.

A Woman I forſwore, but I will proue,

Thou being a Goddeſſe, I forſwore not thee.

My Vow was earthly, thou aheaenly Loue.

Thy grace being gain'd, cures all disgrace in me.

Vowes are but breath, and breath a vapour is.

Then thou faire Sun, which on my earth does ſhine,

Exhaſſt this vapor-vow, in thee it is :

If broken then, it is no fault of mine :

If by me broke, What ſoſe is not ſowife,
To loose an oath, to win a Paradise?

Ber. This is the liuer veine, which makes fleſh a deity.
A greene Goode, a Coddeſſe, pure pure Idolatry.
God amend vs, God amend, we are much out o'th'way.

Enter Dumaine.

Lon. By whom ſhall I ſend this (company?) Stay.

Bero. All hid, all hid, an old infant play,

Like a demie God, here fit I in the skie,

And wretched fooles ſecrets heedfully ore-eye.

More Sacks to the myll. O heauens I haue my wifh,
Dumaine transfor'd, ſoure Woodcocks in a diſh.

Dum. O moſt diuine Kate.

Bero. O moſt prophane coxcombe.

Dum. By heauen the wonder of a mortall eye.

Bero. By earth he is not, corporall, there you lye.

Dum. Her Amber haires for foule hath amber coted.

Ber. An Amber coloured Rauen was well noted.

Dum. As vpright as the Cedar.

Ber. Stoope I ſay her shoulder is with-child.

Dum. As faire as day.

Ber. I as ſome daies, but then no ſunne muſh ſhine.

Dum. O that I had my wifh?

Lon. And I had mine.

Kin. And mine too good Lord.

Ber. Amen, ſo I had mine: Is not that a good word?

Dum. I would forſer her, but a Feuer she.

Raignes in my bloud, and will remembred be.

Ber. A Feuer in your bloud, why then incision

Would let her out in Sawcers, ſweet misprisſion.

Dum. Once more Ile read the Ode that I haue writ.

Ber. Once more I marke how Loue can varry Wit.

Dumane reades his Sonnet.

On a day, alack the day :

Loue, whose Month is every May,

Spied a bloſſome paſſing faire,

Playing in the wanton ayre :

Through the Velvet, leaues the windes,

All unſeene, can paſſage finde,

That the Louer ſieſe to death,

Wish him ſelfe the heauens breath.

Ayre (quoth he) thy cheekes may blowe,

Ayre, would I might triumph ſo.

But alacke my hand is ſworne,

Nere to plucke thee from thy throne:

Vow alacke for youth ummeete,

Youth ſo apt to plucke a ſweet.

 Doe not call it ſinne in me,

That I am forſtworne for thee.

Thou for whom Loue would ſweare,

Iuno but an Aethiop were,

And denie himſelfe for Loue.

Turning mortall for thy Loue.

This will I ſend, and something elfe more plaine.

That ſhall expreſſe my true loues faſting paine.

O would the King, Berowne and Longauiſt,

Were Louers too, ill to example ill,

Would from my forehead wipe a periur'd note :

For none offend, where all alike doe note.

Lon. Dumaine, thy Loue is farre from charitie,

That in Loues grieſe defir't ſocietie:

You may looke pale, but I should bluſh I know,

To be ore-heard, and taken napping ſo.

Kin. Come fir, you bluſh : as his, your caſe is ſuch,
You chide at him, offending twice as much.

You doe not loue Maria? Longaule,

Did neuer Sonnet for her ſake compile;

Nor neuer lay his wreathed arms athwart

His louing boſome, to keepe downe his heart.

I haue beene clotely ſhowr ed in this buſh,

And markt you both, and for you both did bluſh.

I heard your guilty Rimes, obferu'd your ſaſtion :

Saw ſhiges reeke from you, noted well your paffion.

Aye me, ſayes one ! O Loue, the other cries !

On her haires were Gold, Chirſall the others eyes.

You would for Paradife breake Faith and troth,

And Loue for your Loue would inſringe an oath.

What will Berowne ſay when that he ſhall heare

Faith infringed, which ſuch zeale did ſweare.

How will he ſcorne? how will he ſpend his wit?

How will he triumph, leape, and laugh at it?

For all the wealth that euer I did ſee,

I would not haue him know ſo much by me.

Bero. Now ſtep I forth to whip hypocrisie.

Ah good my Liede, I pray thee pardon me.

Good heart, What grace haſt thou thus to repreuſe

These ſwormes for louing, that art moſt in Loue?

Your eyes doe make no couches in thy teares.

There is no certaine Princeſſe that appears.

You'll not be periur'd, 'tis a hatefull thing :

Tuſh, none but Minſtrels like of Sonnetting.

But are you not aſham'd ? nay, are you not

M

All

Loues Labour's loft.

134

All three of you, to be thus much ore short ?

You found his Moth, the King your Moth did see :
But I a Beame doe finde in each of three.

O what a Scene of fool'ry haue I seene.

Of fightes, of grones, oforrow, and of teene :

O me, with what strict patience haue I fat,

To see a King transformed to a Gnat ?

To fee great Hercules whipping a Gigge,

And profound Salomon tuning a lygge?

And Neſtor play at puſh-pin with the boyes,

And Critticek Tymon, laugh at idle toyes.

Where lies thy griefe ? O tell me good Dumasine?

And gentle Longauil, where lies thy paine?

And where my Liedges ? all about the breſt :

A Candle hoa !

Kin. Too bitter is thy iſt.

Are wee betrayed thus to thy ouer-view ?

Ber. Not you by me, but I betrayed to you.

I that am honest, I that hold it finne

To breake the vow I am engaged in.

I am betrayed by keeping company
With men, like men of inſtancie.

When ſhall you fee me write a thing in rime?

Or grone for Ioane ? or ſpend a minutes time,

In pruning mee, when ſhall you heare that I will proue a
handy a foot, a face, an eye: a gate, a ſtate, a brow, a breſt,
a waſte, a legge, a limme.

Kin. Soft, Whither a way ſo ſaft ?

A true man, or a theſe, that gallops ſo.

Ber. I poſſt from Loue, good Louer let me go.

Enter Iaquenetta and Clowne.

Iagu. God bleſſe the King.

Kin. What Preſent haſt thou there ?

Clo. Some certaine treaſon.

Kin. What makes treaſon heere?

Clo. Nay it makes nothing fir.

Kin. If it marre nothing neither,

The treaſon and you goe in peace away together.

Iagu. I beſeech your Grace let this Letter be read,
Our perſon miſ-doubts it: it was treaſon he ſaid.

Kin. Berowne, read it ouer.

He reades the Letter.

Kin. Where hadſt thou it ?

Iagu. Of Coſtard.

Kin. Where hadſt thou it?

Coſt. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio.

Kin. How now, what is in you? why doſt thou tear it?

Ber. A toy my Liedge, a toy : your grace needes not
feare it.

Long. It did moue him to paſſion, and therefore let's
heare it.

Dum. It is Berowns writing, and heere is his name.

Ber. Ah you whoſonev loggerhead, you were borne
to doe me ſhame.

Guilty my Lord, guilty : I conſeſſe, I conſeſſe.

Kin. What ?

Ber. That you three fooles, lackt mee foole, to make
vp the meſſe.

He, he, and you: and you my Liedge, and I,
Are picke-purſes in Loue, and we deferue to die.

O difmitſe this audience, and I ſhall tell you more.

Dum. Now the number is euen.

Berown. True true, we are fowre : will theſe Turtles
be gone?

Kin. Hence firſ, away.

Clo. Walk alſide the true folke, & let the traytors flay.

Ber. Sweet Lords, Iweet Louers, O let vs imbrace,
As true we are as flesh and bloud can be,

The Sea will ebbe and flow, heauen will ſhow his face :

Young bloud doth not obey an old decree.

We cannot croſſe the cauſe why we are borne :
Therefore of all hands muſt we be forſworne.

King. What, did theſe rent lines: ſhow ſome loue of
thine ?

(Rosaline,

Ber. Did they, quoth you ? Who ſees the heauenly
That (like a rude and ſauage man of Index.)

At the firſt opening of the gorgeous Eaſt,
Bowes not his vafall head, and ſtrooken blinde,

Kiffes the baſe ground with obedient breaſt?

What peremptory Eaſt-fiſted eye
Dares looke vpon the heauen of her brow,

That is not blinded by her maiſtie ?

Kin. What zeale, what ſorie, hath inſpir'd thee now?
My Loue (her Miftres) is a gracious Moone,

Shee (an attending Starre) ſcarce ſeene a light.
Ber. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Berowne.

O, but for my Loue, day would turne to night,
Of all complexions the cul'd foueraignty,

Doe meet as at a faire in her faire cheeke,
Where feueral Worthies make one dignity,

Where nothing wants, that want it ſelfe doth ſeeke,
Lend me the flouriſh of all gentle tongues,

Fie painted Rethoricke, O ſhe needs it not,
To things of tale, a ſellers praeſe belongs :

She paffes prayſe, then prayſe too ſhort doth blot.
A withered Hermite, ſhueſcore winters worne,

Might ſhake off ſiſtie, looking in her eye :

Beauty doth varniſh Age, as if new borne,
And giues the Crutch the Cradles infancie.

O'tis the Sunne that maketh all things ſhine.
Kin. By heauen, thy Loue is blacke as Ebonie.

Berowne. Is Ebonie like her ? O word divine ?

A wife of ſuch wood were felicitie.

O who can giue an oth ? Where is a booke?

-That I may ſware Beauty doth beauty lacke,
If that ſhe learne not of her eye to looke :

No face is faire that is not full ſo blacke.

Kin. O paradoxe, Blacke is the badge of hell,
The hue of dungeons, and the Schoole of night :
And beauties creſt becomes the heauens weil.

Ber. Diuels ſooneſt tempt reſembling ſpirits of light

O if in blacke my Ladies browes be deckt,

It mournes, that painting vſurping haire
Should rauiſh doters with a falſe aſpect :

And therfore is ſhe borne to make blacke, ſaire.

Her fauour turnes the faſhion of the dayes,
For native bloud is counted painting ne:

And therefore red that would auoyd diſpraise,
Paints it ſelfe blacke, to imitate her brow.

Dum. To look like her are Chimny-sweepers blacke.

Lon. And ſince her time, are Colliers counted bright.

King. And aſthiops of their ſweet complexion crake.

Dum. Dark needs no Candles now, for dark is light.

Ber. Your miſtreſſes dare neuer come in raine,
For feare their colours ſhould be waſht away.

Kin. 'Twere good yours did: for ſit to tell you plaine,
Ile finde a fairer face not waſht to day.

Ber. Ile proue her faire, or talke till dooms-day here.

Kin. No Diuell will fright thee then so much as ſhee.

Duma. I neuer knew man hold vile ſtuffe to deere.

Lon. Looke, heer's thy loue, my foot and her face ſee.

Ber. O if the streets were paued with thine eyes,

Her

Loues Labour's loft.

135

Her feet were much too dainty for such tread.

*Duma.* O vile, then as she goes what vpward lyes?
The street should see as she walk'd ouer head,

*Kim.* But what of this, are we not all in loue?

*Ber.* O nothing so sure, and thereby all forsworne.

*Kim.* Then leaue this chat, & good *Berown* now ptoue
Our louing lawfull, and our faith not torne.

*Dum.* I marie there, some flatter y for this euill.

*Long.* O some authority how to proceed,

Some tricks, some quillers, how to cheat the diuell,

*Dum.* Some false for periurie.

*Ber.* O'tis more then neede.

Haue at you then affections men at armes,

Confider what you firſt did (ſware vnto :

To ſaſt, to ſtudy, and to ſee no woman :

Flat treaſon againſt the Kingly ſtate of youth.

Say, Can you ſaſt? your stomacks are too young:

And abſtinence ingenders maladies.

And where that you haue vow'd to ſtudie (Lords)
In that each of you haue forſworne his Booke.

Can you ſtill dreame and pore, and thereon looke.

For when would you my Lord, or you, or you,
Haue found the ground of ſtudies excellence,
Without the beauty of a womans ſace :

From womens eyes this doctrine I deriue,
They are the Ground, the Bookes, the Achadems,
From whence doth ſpring the true *Promethean* fire.

Why, vniterfall plodding poyſons vp

The nimble ſpirits in the arteries,

As motion and long during action tyres

The finnowy vigour of the trauailer.

Now for not looking on a womans face,

You haue in that forſworne the vſe of eyes :

And ſtudie too, the causer of your vow.

For where is any Author in the world,

Teaches ſuch beauty as a womans eye :

Learning is but an adiuſt to our ſelfe,

And where we are, our Learning likewise is.

Then when our ſelues we fee in Ladies eyes,

With our ſelues.

Doe we not likewise fee our learning there?

O we haue made a Vow to ſtudie, Lords,

And in that vow we haue forſworne our Bookes:

For when would you (my Leege) or you, or you?

In leaden contemplation haue found out

Such ſiery Numbers as the prompting eyes,

Of beauties tutors haue inrich'd you with:

Other tow Arts intirely keepe the braine :

And therefore finding barraine prætizers,

Scarce ſhew a harueſt of their heavy toyle.

But Loue firſt learned in a Ladies eyes,

Lines not alone emured in the braine :

But with the motion of all elements,

Courſes as ſwift as thought in every power,

And giues to every power a double power,

Aboue their functions and their offices.

It addes a precious feeling to the eye :

A Louers eyes will gaze an Eagle blinde.

A Louers eare will heare the lowest found.

When the ſuspicious head of theft is ſlopt.

Loues feeling is more ſoft and ſenſible,

Then are the tender hornes of Cockled Snayles.

Loues tongue proues dainty, *Bachus* groſſe in taſte,

For Valour, is not Loue a *Hercules*?

Still climbing trees in the *Hespides*.

Subtill as *Sphinx*, as ſweet and muſicall,

As bright *Apollo's* Lute, ſtrung with his haire.

And when Loue ſpeakes, the voyce of all the Gods,
Make heauen drowſie with the harmonie.

Neuer durſt Poet touch a pen to write,

Vntill his Inke were tempred with Loues ſighs:

O then his lines would nauiuſ ſhauage eares,

And plant in Tyrants milde humilitie.

From womens eyes this doctrine I deriue.

They ſparele ſtill the right promethean fire,

They are the Bookes, the Arts, the Achademes,

That ſhew, containe, and nouriſh all the world.

Elſe none at all in ought proues excellent.

Then ſooles you were theſe women to forſwære :

Or keeping what is ſworne, you will proue ſooles,

For Wifedomes ſake, a word that all men loue :

Or for Loues ſake, a word that loues all men.

Or for Mens ſake, the author of theſe Women :

Or Womens ſake, by whom we men are Men.

Let's once looke our oathes to finde our ſelues,

Or elſe we looke our ſelues, to keepe our oathes :

It is religion to be thus forſworne.

For Charity it ſelfe ſuſ fulſhes the Law :

And who can feuer loue from Chariotry.

*Kim.* Saint Cupid then, and Souldiers to the field.

*Ber.* Aduance your standards, & vpon them Lords.
Pell, mell, downe with them : but be firſt aduised,

In conſtled that you get the Sunne of them.

*Long.* Now to plaine dealing, Lay theſe gloz es by,
Shall we reſolue to woe theſe girles of France?

*Kim.* And winne them too, therefore let vs deuife;
Some entertainment for them in their Tents.

*Ber.* Firſt from the Park let vs conduct them thither,

Then homeward every man attach the hand

Of his faire Miftreſſe, in the afternoone

We will with ſome ſtrange paſtline ſolace them :

Such as the ſhortneſt of the time can ſhape,

For Reuelſs, Dances, Maskes, and merry houres,

Fore-runne faire Loue, ſtrewing her way with flowres.

*Kim.* Away, away, no time ſhall be omitted,
That will be time, and may by vs be ſbitted.

*Ber.* Alone, alone ſowed Cockell, reap'd no Corne,
And Inſtice alwaies whirles in equal meaſure :

Light Wenches may proue plagues to men forſworne,
If so, our Copper buyes no better treaſure.

Exeunt.

## Actus Quartus.

*Enter the Pedant, Curate and Dull.*

*Pedant.* *Satis quid ſufficit.*

*Curat.* I praife God for you fir, your reaſons at dinner
haue beene ſharpe & ſenſentious:pleaſant without ſcur-
rillity, witty without aſſection, audacious without im-
pudency, learned without opinion, and ſtrange without
hereſiſe: I did conuere this *quondam* day with a compa-
nion of the Kings, who is intituled, nominated, or called,
*Don Adriano de Armatho*.

*Ped.* *Nouï hominum tanquam te,* His humour is lofty,
his diſcoursé peremptorie : his tongue filed, his eye
ambitious, his gate maieſticall, and his generall behaui-
our vaine, ridiculous, and thraſonicall. He is too picked,
too ſpruce, too aſſected, too odde, as it were, too pere-
grinat, as I may call it.

M 2

*Curat.*

Loves Labour's loft.

Curat. A moſt singular and choſe Epithar,

Draw out his Table-booke.

Peda. He draweth out the thred of his verboſitie, fi-
ner then the ſtaple of his argument. I abhor ſuch pha-
nicall phantalims, ſuch inſociable and poynt deuife
companions, ſuch rackers of ortagriphe, as to ſpeake
dout fine, when he ſhould ſay doubt; der, when he ſhold
pronounce debt; e b t, not det: he clepeth a Calf, Caufe:
halſe, hawſe: neighbour vocatur nebour; neigh abreuiated
ne: this is abhominable, which he would call abhomi-
nable: it inſinuateth me of infamie: ne intelligis domine, to
make franticke, lunaticke?

Cura. Lans deo, bone intellig.

Peda. Home boon for boon prefian, a little ſeratcht, twiſerue.

Enter Bragart, Boy.

Curat. Vides ne quis venit?

Peda. Video, & gaudio.

Brag. Chirra.

Peda. Quari Chirra, not Sirra?

Brag. Men of peace well incountred.

Pd. Moſt militarie ſir falatation.

Boy. They haue beene at a great feast of Languages,
and ſolne the ſcraps.

Clow. O they haue liu'd long on the almes-basket of
words. I maruell thy M.hath not eaten thee for a word,
for thou art not ſo long by the head as honorificabilitu-
dinitibus : Thou art eſier ſwallowed then a flapdra-
gon.

Page. Peace, the peale begins.

Brag. Mounſier, are you not letted?

Page. Yes, yes, he teaches boyes the Horne-booke :

What is Ab ſpeld backward with the horn on his head?

Peda. Ba, puericia with a horne added.

Pag. Ba moſt feely Sheepe, with a horne: you heare
his learning.

Peda. Quis quis, thou Conſonant?

Pag. The laſt of the ſiue Vowels if You repeat them,
or the ſit if I.

Peda. I will repeat them: a c I.

Pag. The Sheepe, the other two conſludes it o u.

Brag. Now by the ſalt wave of the mediteranium, a
(fweet rurch, a quickie vene we of wit, ſnip ſnap, quick &
home, it reioyceth my intelleſt, true) wit.

Page. Offered by a childe to an olde man: which is
wit-old.

Peda. What is the figure? What is the figure?

Page. Hornes.

Peda. Thou disputes like an Infant : goe whip thy
Gigge.

Pag. Lend me your Horne to make one, and I will
whip about your Infamie vnnumita a gigge of a Cuck-
olds horne.

Clow. And I had but one penny in the world, thou
ſhouldſt haue it to buy Ginger bread: Hold, there is the
very Remuneration I had of thy Maſter, thou halfpenny
purſe of wit, thou Pidgeon-egge of diſcretion. O & the
heauens were ſo pleafed, that thou wert but my Baſtard;
What a ioyfull father wouldſt thou make mee? Goe to,
thou haſt it ad dungil, at the fingers ends, as they ſay.

Peda. Oh I smell falſe Latine, dunghel for vnguern.

Brag. Artſ-man preambulat, we will bee ſingled from
the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the Charg-
houſe on the top of the Mountaine?

Peda. Or Mons the hill.

Brag. At your ſweet pleafure, for the Mountaine.

Peda. I doe ſans question.

Bra. Sir, it is the Kings moſt ſweet pleafure and af-
ſection, to congratulate the Princesſe at her Pauilion,
in the poſteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call
the after-noone.

Pd. The poſterior of the day, moſt generous fir, is lia-
ble, congruent, and meaſurable for the after-noone: the
word is well culd, choſe, ſweet, and apt I doe aſſure you
fir, I doe aſſure.

Brag. Sir, the King is a noble Gentleman, and my fa-
miliar, I doe aſſure ye very good friend : for what is in-
ward betweene vs, let it paſſe. I doe beſeech thee re-
member thy curſeſe. I beſeech thee apparell thy head;
and among other importunate & moſt ferious defignes,
and of great import indeed too : but let that paſſe, for I
muſt tell thee it will plesae his Grace (by the world)
fometime to leane vpon my poore ſhoulder, and with
his royall finger thus dallie with my excrement, with my
muſtachio : but ſweet heart let that paſſe. By the world
I recount no ſable, ſome certaine ſpeciall honours it
pleaſeth his greatneſſe to impart to e Armado a ſouldier,
a man of trauell that hath ſeene the world : but let that
paſſe; the very all of all is: but ſweet heart, I do implore
iecrecie, that the King would haue mee preſent the
Princesſe (ſweet chucke) with ſome delightfull offenta-
tion, or ſhow, or pageant, or anticke, or fire-worke.
Now, vnderſtanding that the Curate and your ſweet ſelf
are good at ſuch eruptions, and ſodaine breaking out of
myrth (as it were) I haue acquainted you withall, to
the end to craue your aſſiftance.

Peda. Sir, you shall preſent before her the Nine Wor-
thies. Sir Hoſſoſteres, as concerning ſome entertainment
of time, ſome ſhow in the poſterior of this day, to bee
rended by our aſſiants the Kings command : and this
moſt gallant, iuſtřate and learned Gentleman, before
the Princesſe : I ſay none ſo fit as to preſent the Nine
Worthies.

Curat. Where will you finde men worthy enough to
prefent them?

Peda. Iſua, your ſelſe: my ſelſe, and this gallant gen-
tleman Iudas Machabera; this Swaine (because of his
great limme or ioynt) ſhall paſſe Pompey the great, the
Page Hercules.

Brag. Pardon fir, error: He is not quantitie enough
for that Worthies thumb, hee is not ſo big as the end of
his Club.

Peda. Shall I haue audience? he ſhall preſent Heren-
les in minoritie: his enter and exist ſhall bee ſtrangling a
Snake; and I will haue an Apologie for that purpose.

Pag. An excellent deuice: ſo if any of the audience
hile, you may cry, Weil done Hercules, now thou cru-
ſheſt the Snake; that is the way to make an offence gra-
cious, though few haue the grace to do it.

Brag. For the reſt of the Worthies?

Peda. I will play three my ſelſe.

Pag. Thrice worthy Gentleman.

Brag. Shall I tell you a thing?

Peda. We atrend.

Brag. We will haue, if this ſadge not, an Antique. I
beſeech you follow.

Ped. Via good-man Dull, thou haſt ſpoken no word
all this while.

Dull. Nor vnderſtood none neither fir.

Pag. Alone, we will employ thee.

Dull. Ile make one in a dance, or so : or I will play
on

Loues Labour's loft.

137

on the taber to the Worthies, & let them dance the hey,
Ped. Moſt Dull, honest Dull, to our ſport away. Exit.

Enter Ladies.

Qu. Sweet hearts we shall be rich ere we depart,
If fairings come thus plentifully in.
A Lady wal'd about with Diamonds: Look you, what I
haue from the louing King.

Rofa. Madam, came nothing else along with that?

Qu. Nothing but this: yes as much loue in Rime,
As would be cram'd vp in a fleet of paper.
Writ on both fides the leafe, margent and all,
That he was faire to feale on Cupids name.

Rofa. That was the way to make his god-head wax:
For he hath beene flue thousand yeeres a Boy.

Kath. I, and a ſhrewd vnhappy gallowes too.

Rof. You'll nere be friends with him, a kild your fiftier.

Kath. He made her melancholy, fad, and heavy, and
fo he died: had he beene Light like you, of such a mer-
tie nimble flitting ſpirit, he might a bin a Grandam ere
he died. And fo may you: For a light heart liues long.

Rof. What's your darke meaning moule, of this light
word?

Kat. A light condition in a beauty darke.

Rof. We need more light to finde your meaning out.

Kat. You'll matre the light by taking it in ſnuffe:
Therefore Ile darkely end the argument.

Rof. Look what you doe, you doe it til' tharke.

Kat. So do not you, for you are a light Wench.

Rof. Indeed I waigh not you, and therefore light.

Kat. You waigh menot, O that's you care not for me.

Rof. Great reafon: for paſt reaſon, is ſtill paſt reaſe.

Qu. Well bandied both, a fet of Wit well played,

But Rofaline, you haue a Favour too?

Who ſent it? and what is it?

Rof. I would you knew.

And if my face were but as faire as yours,
My Favour were as great, be witneſſe this.
Nay, I haue Verſes too, I thanke Berowne,
The numbers true, and were the numbring too,
I were the faireſt goddeſſe on the ground.
I am compar'd to twenty thousand fairs.
O he hath drawne my picture in his letter.

Qu. Any thing like?

Rof. Much in the letters, nothing in the praeſe.

Qu. Beauteous as Incke: a good conclusion.

Kat. Faire as a text B, in a Coppie booke.

Rof. Ware penſals. How? Let menot die your debtor,
My red Dominicall, my golden letter,
O that your face were full of Oes.

Qu. A Pox of that ieſt, and I beſhrew all Shrowes:
But Katherine, what was ſent to you
From faire Dumame?

Kat. Madame, this Gloue.

Qu. Did he not ſend you twaine?

Kat. Yes Madame: and moreover,
Some thousand Verſes of a faithfull Louer.
A huge tranſation of hypocriſe,
Vildly compiled, profound ſimplicitie.

Mar. This, and theſe Pearls, to me ſent Longauile.
The Letter is too long by halſe a mile.

Qu. I thinke no leſſe: Doſt thou wiſh in heart
The Chaine were longer, and the Letter ſhort.

Mar. I, or I would theſe hands might neuer part.

Quee. We are wife girles to mocke our Louers ſo.

Rof. They are worſe fooles to purchase mocking ſo.

That fame Berowne ile torture ere I goe.

O that I knew he were but in by th' weeke,
How I would make him fawne, and begge, and ſeeke,
And wait the ſeafon, and obferue the times,
And ſpend his prodigall wits in booteles rimes,
And shape his ſeruice wholly to my deuice,
And make him proud to make me proud that ieſts,
So perteaunt like would I o'reſway his ſtate,
That he ſhould be my foole, and I his fate.

Qu. None are ſo ſurely caught, when they are catcht,
As Wit turn'd foole, ſollie in Wisedome hatch'd:
Hath wisedoms warrant, and the helpe of Schoole,
And Wits owne grace to grace a learned Foole?

Rof. The blood of youth burns not with ſuch exceſſe,
As grauities reuolt to wantons be.

Mar. ſollie in Fooles beares not ſo ſtrong a note,
As fooſry in the Wive, when Wit doth dote:
Since all the power thereof it doth apply,
To proue by Wit, worth in ſimplicitie.

Enter Boyet.

Qu. Heere comes Boyet, and mirth in his face.

Boy. O I am ſtab'd with laughter, Wher's her Grace?

Qu. Thy newes Boyet?

Boy. Prepare Madame, prepare.

Arme Wenches arme, incounters mounted are,
Against your Peace, Loue doth approach, diſguis'd:
Armed in arguments, you'll be ſurpriz'd.

Muſter your Wits, ſtand in your owne defence,
Or hide your heads like Cowards, and ſlie hence.

Qu. Saint Dennis to S. Cnpid: What are they,
That charge their breath againſt vs? Say ſcout ſay.

Boy. Under the coole ſhade of a Siccamore,
I thought to close mine eyes ſome halſe an houre:
When I to interrupt my purpos'd reſt,

Toward that ſhade I might behold addreſſt,

The King and his companions: warely

I ſtole into a neighbour thicke by,
And ouer-heard, what you ſhall ouer-heare:

That by and by diſguis'd they will be heere.

Their Herald is a pretty knauiſh Page:

That well by heart hath con'd his embaffage,
Action and accent did they teach him there.

Thus muſt thou ſpeake, and thus thy body beare.

And euer and anon they made a doubt,
Prefence maieſticall would put him out:

For quoth the King, an Angell ſhalt thou ſee:

Yet ſeare not thou, but ſpeake audaciously.

The Boy reply'd, An Angell is not euill:

I ſhould haue fear'd her, had the beene a deuill,

With that all laugh'd, and clap'd him on the ſhoulder,
Making the bold wagg by their praifes bolder.

One rub'd his elbœ thus, and fleer'd, and ſwore,
A better ſpeech was neuer ſpoke before.

Another with his finger and his thumb,
Cry'd vià. we will doo't, come what will come.

The third he caper'd and cried, All goes well.

The fourth run'd on the toe, and downe he ſell:

With that they all did tumble on the ground;

With ſuch a zelous laughter ſo profound,

That in this ſpleene ridiculous ſappeares,

To checke their folly paſſions ſollemne teares.

Quee. But what, but what, come they to viſit vs?

Boy. They do, they do; and are apparel'd thus,
Like Mufcouſtes, or Ruffians, as I geſſe.

Their purpofe is to parlee, to court, and dance,

M 3

And

Loues Labour's loft.

139

Qu. Gall, bitter.

Ber. Therefore meete.

Du. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word?

Mar. Name it.

Dum. Faire Ladie:

Mar. Say you so? Faire Lord:

Take you that for your faire Lady.

Du. Please it you,

As much in priuate, and Ile bid adieu.

Mar. What, was your vizard made without a tong?

Long. I know the reason Ladie why you aske.

Mar. O for your reason, quickly fir, I long.

Long. You haue a double tongue within your mask.

And would afford my speechleffe vizard halfe.

Mar. Veale quoth the Dutch-man : is not Veale a

Calfe?

Long. A Calfe faire Ladie?

Mar. No, a faire Lord Calfe.

Long. Let's part the word.

Mar. No, No, Ile not be your halfe:

Take all and weane it, it may proue an Oxe.

Long. Looke how you but your selfe in these sharpe
mockes.

Will you giue hornes chaft Ladie? Do not so.

Mar. Then die a Calfe before your horns do grow.

Lon. One word in priuate with you ere I die.

Mar. Bleat sofly then, the Butcher heares you cry.

Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen

As is the Razors edge, inuible:

Cutting a smaller haire then may be seene,

Above the senfe of sence so fenible:

Seemeth their conference, their conceits haue wings,
Fleeter then arrows, bullets wind, thought, swifter things

Ros. Not one word more my maides, breake off,
breake off.

Ber. By heauen, all drie beaten with pure scoffe.

King. Farewell madde Wenches, you haue fimple
wits.

Exeunt.

Qu. Twentie adieus ray frozen Muscouits,

Are thefe the breed of wits so wondred at?

Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweete breathes
puft out.

Ros. Wel-liking wits they haue, groſſe, groſſe, fat, fat.

Qu. O pouertie in wit, Kingly poore flout.

Will they not (thinke you) hang themſlues to night?

Or euer but in vizards ſhew their faces:

This pert Berowne was out of count'nance quite.

Ros. They were all in lamentable cafes.

The King was wceeping ripe for a good word.

Qu. Berowne did ſware himſelſe out of all ſuite.

Mar. Dumaine was at my ſeruice, and his word :

No point (quoth I:) my ſeruant fraight vvas mute.

Ka. Lord Longauill ſaid I came ore his hart:

And trow you vywhat he call'd me?

Qu. Qualme perhaps.

Kat. Yes in good faith.

Qu. Go ſickneſſe as thou art.

Ros. Well, better wits haue worne plain flatute caps,

But vvil you heare; the King is my loue ſworne.

Qu. And quicke Berowne hath plighted faith to me.

Kat. And Longauill was for my ſernice borne.

Mar. Dumaine is mine as ſure as barke on tree.

Boyet. Madam, and prettie miftrefſes giue care,

Immediately they will againe be heere

In their owne ſhapes : for it can neuer be,

They will digest this harſh indignitie.

Qu. Will they returne?

Boy. They will they will, God knowes,

And leape for ioy, though they are lame with blowes:
Therefore change Fauours, and when they repaire,
Blow like ſweet Roses, in this summer aire.

Qu. How blovv? how blovv? Speake to bee vnder-
ſood.

Boy. Faire Ladies maskt, are Roses in their bud :
Difmaskt, their damaske ſweet commixture ſhowne,
Are Angels vailing clouds, or Roses blowne.

Qu. Auant perplexitie : What ſhall vve do,
If they returne in their owne ſhapes to wo ?

Ros. Good Madam, if by me you'l be aduis'd,
Let's mocke them ſtill as well knowne as difguis'd :
Let vs complaine to them vyhat fooles were heare,
Difguis'd like Muscouites in ſhapeleſſe geare :
And wonder what they were, and to what end
Their ſhallow ſhowes, and Prologue vildely pen'd :
And their rough carriage for ridiculous,
Should be prelented at our Tent to vs.

Boyet. Ladies, withdraw : the gallants are at hand.

Quee. Whip to our Tents, as Roes runnnes ore Land.

Exeunt.

Enter the King and the reſt.

King. Faire fir, God faue you. Wher's the Princesſe?

Boy. Gone to her Tent.

Please it your Maieſtie command me any ſeruice to her?

King. That ſhe vouchſaſe me audience for one word.

Boy. I will, and so will ſhe, I know my Lord. Exit.

Ber. This fellow pickpaw ſv wit as Pigeons peale,

And ytters it againe, when June doth pleafe.

He is Wits Pedler, and retailes his Wares,

At Wakes, and Waffels, Meetings, Markets, Faires.

And we that fell by groſſe, the Lord doth know,

Hae not the grace to grace it with ſuch ſhow.

This Gallant pins the Wenches on his ſleekce.

Had he bin Adam, he had tempted Eve.

He can carue too, and lispe: Why this is he,

That kiſt away his hand in courtesie.

This is the Ape of Forme, Monfleur the nice,

That when he plaics at Tables, chides his Dice

In honorable tearmes: Nay he can ſing

A meane moſt meanly, and in Vhیرing

Mend him who can : the Ladies call him ſweete.

Thé ſtaires as he treads on them kiffe his ſeete.

This is the flower that ſmiles on euerie one,

To ſhew his teeth as white as Whales bone.

And conſciences that wil not die in debt,

Pay him the dutie of honie-tongued Boyet.

King. A blifter on his ſweet tongue with my hart,
That put Armatohes Page out of his part.

Enter the Ladies.

Ber. See where it comes. Behauiour what wer't thou,
Till this madman ſhew'd thee? And what art thou now?

King. All haile ſweet Madame, and faire time of day.

Qu. Faire in all Haile is ſoule, as I conceiue.

King. Conſtrue my ſpeeches better, if you may.

Qu. Then wifh me better, I wil giue you leaue.

King. We came to viſit you, and purpofe now

To leade you to our Court, vouchſaſe it then.

Qu. This field ſhal hold me, and ſo hold your vow :
Nor God, nor I, delights in periu'd men.

King. Rebuke me not for that which you prouoketh :

The

Loues Labour's loft.

140

The vertue of your eie muſt breake my oth.

Q. You nickname vertue: vice you ſhould haue ſpoke:
For vertues office neuer breaks men troth.

Now by my maiden honor, yet as pure
As the vnfall'd Lilly, I proteſt,

A world of torments though I ſhould endure,
I would not yeeld to be your houſes gueſt:
So much I hate a breaking caufe to be
Of heauenly oaths, vow'd with integritie.

Kin. O you haue liu'd in defolation heere,
Vnſeene, vnviſited, much to our ſhame.

Q. Not ſo my Lord, it is not ſo I ſware,
We haue had pastimes heere, and pleafant game,
A meſſe of Ruffians left vs but of late.

Kin. How Madam? Ruffians?

Qu. I in truth, my Lord.

Trim gallants, full of Courtship and of state.

Ros. Madam I ſpeake true. It is not ſo my Lord:
My Ladie (to the manner of the daies)
in curſeſe gines vndefering prauſe.

We ſoure indeed confronted were with ſoure

In Rufsia habit: Heere they ſlayed an houre,
And talk'd apace : and in that houre (my Lord)

They did not bleſſe vs with one happy word.

I dare not call them fooles; but this I thinke,

When they are thirſtie, fooles would faine haue drinke.

Ber. This ieſt is drie to me. Gentle ſweete,

Your wits makes wife things fooliſh when we greete
With eies beſt ſeeing, heauens fierie eie :

With light we looke light; your capaciſt

Is of that nature, that to your huge floore,

Wife things ſeeme fooliſh, and rich things but poore.

Ros. This proues you wife and rich: for in my eie

Ber. I am a ſfole, and full of pouertie.

Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong,

It were a fault to ſnatch words from my tongue.

Ber. O, I am yours, and all that I poſſeſſe.

Ros. All the ſoſle mine.

Ber. I cannot gueſe you ſeſſe.

Ros. Which of the Vizards what it that you wore?

Ber. Where? when? What Vizard?

Why demand you this ?

Ros. There, then, that vizard, that ſuperfluous caſe,
That hid the worſe, and ſhew'd the better face.

Kim. We are diſeried,

They'l mocke vs now downeright.

Du. Let vs conſeſſe, and turne it to a ieſt.

Que. Amaz'd my Lord? Why lookes your Highneſs
ſadde?

Ros. Hepe hold his browes, hee'l ſound: why looke
you pale ?

Sea-ſicke I thinke comming from Muſcouie.

Ber. Thus poure the flars down plagues for perury.
Can any face of braſſe hold longer out ?

Heere ſtand I, Ladie dart thy skill at me,
Bruife me with ſcome, confound me with a ſlout.

Thruſt thy ſharpe wit quite through my ignoranſe.

Cut me to peeces with thy keene conceit :

And I will wifh thee neuer more to dance,

Nor neuer more in Ruffian habit waite.

O neuer will I truſt to ſpeeches pen'd,

Nor to the motion of a Schoole-boies tongue.

Nor neuer come in vizard to my friend,

Nor woo in rime like a blind-harpers ſongue,
Taffata phraſes, ſilken tearmes precife,

Three-pil'd Hyperboles, ſpruce affection;

Figures pedanticall, theſe ſummer flies,
Hauſe blowne me full of maggot oftentation.
I do ſorſweare them, and I heere proteſt,
By this white Gloue (how white the hand God knows)
Henceforth my woing minde ſhall be expreſſ

In ruffet yeas, and honest kerſie noes.

And to begin Wench, ſo God helspe me law,

My loue to thee is found, ſans cracke or flaw.

Ros. ſans, ſans, I pray you.

Ber. Yet I haue a tricke

Of the old rage: beare with me, I am ſicke.

Ile leaue it by degrees: ſoft, let vs ſee,

Write Lord haue mercie on vs, on thos e three,

They are inſeſed, in their hearts it lies :

They haue the plague, and caught it of your eyes:

Theſe Lords are viſited, you are not free:

For the Lords tokens on you do I ſee.

Qu. No, they are free that gaue theſe tokens to vs.

Ber. Our flates are forfeit, ſeeke not to vndo vs.

Ros. It is not ſo; for how can this be true,

That you ſtand forfeit, being thofe that ſue.

Ber. Peace, for I will not haue to do with you.

Ros. Nor ſhall not, if I do as I intend,

Ber. Speake for your ſelues, my wit is at an end.

King. Teach vs ſweete Madame, for our rude tranſa-
greſſion, ſome faire excufe.

Qu. The faireſt is conſeſſion.

Were you not heere but euen now, diſguis'd?

Kim. Madam, I was.

Qu. And were you well aduis'd?

Kim. I was faire Madam.

Qu. When you then were heere,

What did you whiſper in your Ladies care ?

King. That more then all the world I did reſpect her.

Qu. When ſhee ſhall challenge this, you will reſeſt her.

King. Upon mine Honor no.

Qu. Peace, peace, forbeare :

your oath once broke, you force not to ſorſweare.

King. Despife me when I breake this oath of mine.

Qu. I will, and therefore keepe it. Rosalme,

What did the Ruffian whiſper in your care ?

Ros. Madam, he ſwore that he did hold me deare

As precious eye-fight, and did value me

Aboue this World: adding thereto moroughter,

That he vvould Wed me, or eſſe die my Louer.

Qu. God giue thee ioy of him : the Noble Lord
Moft honorably doth vphold his word.

King. What meane you Madame ?

By my life, my troth,

I neuer ſwore this Ladie ſuch an oth.

Ros. By heauen you did; and to confirme it plaine,
you gaue me this: But take it fir againe.

King. My faith and this, the Princeſſe I did giue,
I knew her by this lewell on her ſleeue.

Qu. Pardon me fir, this Iewell did ſhe weare,
And Lord Berowne (I thanke him) is my deare.

What? Will you haue me, or your Pearle againe?

Ber. Neither of either, I remit both twaine.

I fee the tricke on't: Heere was a conſent,

Knowing aforehand of our merriment,

To daſh it like a Christmas Comedie.

Some carry-tale, ſome pleafe-man, ſome flight Zanie,

Some mumble-newes, ſome trencher-knight, ſom Dick

That ſmiles his cheeke in yeares, and knowes the trick

To make my Lady laugh, when ſhe's diſpos'd;

Told

Loues Labour's loft.

141

Told our intents before: which once disclod'd,
The Ladies did change Fauours; and then we
Following the lignes, woo'd but the signe of the.

Now to our periurie, to adde more terror,
We are againe forwore in will and error.

Much vpon this tis: and might not you
Forestall our sport, to make vs thus vntrue?

Do not you know my Ladies foot by'th squier?

And laugh vpon the apple of her eie?

And stand betwene her backe fir, and the fire,
Holding a trencher, leitling merrilie?

You put our Page out: go, you are alowd.

Die when you will, a timocke shall be your flrowd.

You leere vpon me, do you? There's an eie

Wounds like a Leaden sword.

Boy. Full merrily hath this braue manager, this car-
ereere bene run.

Ber. Loe, he is tilting straight. Peace, I haue don.

Enter Clowae.

Welcome pure wit, thou part'st a faire fray.

Clo. O Lord fir, they would kno,

Whether the three worthies shall come in, or no.

Ber. What, are there but three?

Clo. No fir, but it is vars fine,

For euerie one purfents three.

Ber. And three times thrice is nine.

Clo. Not so fir, vnder correction fir, I hope it is not so.
You cannot beg vs fir, I can affure you fir, we know what
we know: I hope fir three times thrice fir.

Ber. Is not nine.

Clo. Vnder correction fir, wee know where-ventill it
doth amount.

Ber. By Ioue, I alwaies tooke three threes for nine.

Clow. O Lord fir, it were pittie you should get your
liuing by reckning fir.

Ber. How much is it?

Clo. O Lord fir, the parties themselves, the actors fir
will shew where-ventill it doth amount: for mine owne
part, I am (as they say, but to perfect one man in one
poore man) Pompion the great fir.

Ber. Art thou one of the Worthies?

Clo. It pleased them to thinke me worthie of Pompey
the great: for mine owne part, I know not the degree of
the Worthie, but I am to stand for him.

Ber. Go, bid them prepare.

Exit.

Clo. We will turne it finely off fir, we will take some
care.

King. Berawne, they will fhame vs :

Let them not approach.

Ber. We are fhame-proofe my Lord: and 'tis some
policie, to haue one shew worse then the Kings and his
compaine.

Kin. I say they fhall not come.

Qu. Nay my good Lord, let me ore-rule you now;
That sport beſt pleases, that doth leaſt know how.

Where Zeale trives to content, and the contents

Diss in the Zeale of that which it prefents :

Their former confounded, makes moſt former in mirth,
When great things labouring perſith in their birth.

Ber. A right deſcription of our sport my Lord.

Enter Braggart.

Brag. Annointed, I implore so much expence of thy

royall sweet breath, as will vther a brace of words.

Qu. Doth this man ferue God?

Ber. Why aske you?

Qu. He speak's not like a man of God's making.

Brag. That's all one my faire sweet honie Monarch:
For I proteſt, the Schoolmaſter is exceeding ſantaſcal:
Too too vaine, too too vaine. But we wil put it (as they
ſay) to Fortuna delaguar, I wiſh you the peace of minde
moſt royall supplement.

King. Here is like to be a good prefence of Worthies;
He preſents Heſtor of Troy, the Swaine Pompey ? great,
the Parifh Curate Alexander, Armadoes Page Hercules,
the Pedant Indas Machabens: And if these ſoure Wor-
thies in their firſt ſhew thrive, theſe ſoure will change
habites, and preſent the other ſiue.

Ber. There is ſiue in the firſt ſhew.

Kin. You are deceiued, tis not to.

Ber. The Pedant, the Braggart, the Hedge-Priekſt, the
Foole, and the Boy,

Abate throw at Novum, and the whole world againe,
Cannot pricke out ſiue ſuch, take each one in's vaine.

Kin. The ſhip is vnder ſaile, and here the coms amain.

Enter Pompey.

Clo. I Pompey am.

Ber. You lie, you are not he.

Clo. I Pompey am.

Boy. With Libbards head on knee.

Ber. Well ſaid old mockering,

I muſt needs be friends with thee,

Clo. I Pompey am, Pompey ſurnam'd the big.

Du. The great.

Clo. It is great fir: Pompey ſurnam'd the great:

That oft in field, with Targe and Shield,

did make my ſea to ſweat :

And tranailing along this coast, I heere am come by chance,

And lay my Armes before the legs of this sweet Lasse of
France.

If your Ladiship would ſay thanks Pompey, I had done.

La. Great thanks great Pompey.

Clo. Tis not so much worth: but I hope I was per-
fect. I made a little ſault in great,

Ber. My hat to a halfe-penie, Pompey prooues the
best Worthie.

Enter Curate far Alexander.

Curat. When in the world I liu'd, I was the worldes Com-
mander:

By Eaſt, West, North, & South, I ſpied my conqueering might
My Scutcheon plaine declares that I am Alifander.

Boiet. Your nose faies no, you are not:

For it stands too right.

Ber. Your nose ſmels no, in this moſt tender ſmel-
ling Knight.

Qu. The Conqueror is difmaid :

Proceed good Alexander.

Cur. When in the world I liued, I was the worldes Com-
mander.

Boiet. Moſt true, tis right: you were ſo Alifander.

Ber. Pompey the great.

Clo. your ſeruant and Coltard.

Ber. Take away the Conqueror, take away Alifander.

Clo. O fir, you haue ouerthrowne Alifander the con-
queror: you will be ſcap'd out of the painted cloth for
this,

Loues Labour's loft.

142

this: your Lion that holds his Pollax sitting on a close
ftoole, will be giuen to Aiax. He will be the ninth wor-
thie. A Conqueror, and afraid to speake? Runne away
for shame Alisander. There an't shall pleafe you: a foo-
lifh milde man, an honest man,locke you,& foon daflit.
He is a maruelous good neighbour infooth, and a verie
good Bowler: but for Alisander, alas you fee, how tis a
little ore-parted. But there are Worthies a comming
will fpeake their minde in fome other fort.

Exit Cu.

Qu. Stand afide good Pompey.

Enter Pedant for Iudas, and the Boy for Hercules.

Ped. Great Hercules is presented by this Impe,
Whole Club kill'd Cerberus that three-headed Cæus,
And when he was a babe, a childe, a fhrimpe,
Thus did he ftrangle Serpents in his Mann:
Quoniam, he seemeth in minoritie,
Ergo, I come with this Apologie.

Keepe fome state in thy exit, and vanish.

Exit Boy

Ped. Iudas I am.

Dum. A Iudas?

Ped. Not Ifscariot fir.

Iudas I am, helped Machabeus.

Dum. Iudas Machabeus clipt, is plaine Iudas.

Ber. A kifſing traitor. How art thou prou'd Iudas?

Ped. Iudas I am.

Dum. The more ſhame for you Iudas.

Ped. What meane you fir?

Boi. To make Iudas hang himſelfe.

Ped. Begin fir, you are my elder.

Ber. We'll follow'd, Iudas was hang'd on an Elder.

Ped. I will not be put out of countenance.

Ber. Because thou haſt no face.

Ped. What is this?

Boi. A Citterne head.

Dum. The head of a bodkin.

Ber. A deaths face in a ring.

Lon. The face of an old Roman coin, ſcarce ſcene.

Boi. The pummell of Caſtars Faulchion.

Dum. The caru'd-bone face on a Flaske.

Ber. O Georges halfe cheeke in a brooch.

Dum. I, and in a brooch of Lead.

Ber. I, and worne in the cap of a Tooth-drawer.

And now forward, for we haue put thee in countenance

Ped. You haue put me out of countenance.

Ber. Falsc, we haue giuen thee faces.

Ped. But you haue out-fac'd them all.

Ber. And thou wer't a Lion, we would do so.

Boy. Therefore as he is, an Affe, let him go :

And so adieu sweet Iude. Nay, why doſt thou fly?

Dum. For the latter end of his name.

Ber. For the Affe to the Iude: giue it him. Iud-as a-
way.

Ped. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble.

Boy. A light for monſieur Iudas, it growes darke, he
may ſtumble.

Que. Alas poore Machabeus, how hathe hee beene
baited.

Enter Braggart.

Ber. Hide thy head Achilles, heere comes Hector in
Armes.

Dum. Though my mockes come home by me, I will
now be merrie.

King. Hector was but a Troyan in reſpect of this.

Boi. But is this Hector?

Kin. I thinke Hector was not so eane timber'd.

Lon. His legge is too big for Hector.

Dum. More Calfe certaine.

Boi. No, he is beſt indued in the ſmall.

Ber. This cannot be Hector.

Dum. He's a God or a Painter, for he makes faces.

Brag. The Armipotent Mars of Launces the almighty,
gave Hector a gift.

Dum. A gilt Nutmegge.

Ber. A Lemmon.

Lon. Stucke with Cloues.

Dum. No clouen.

Brag. The Armipotent Mars of Launces the almighty,
Gave Hector a gift, the beire of Illion;

A man so breathed, that certaine he would fight: yea
From morne till night, out of his Pauiillion.

I am that Flower.

Dum. That Mint.

Long. That Cullambine.

Brag. Sweet Lord Longaill reine thy tongue.

Lon. I must rather giue it the reine : for it runnes a-
gainſt Hector.

Dum. I, and Hector's a Grey-hound.

Brag. The ſweet War-man is dead and rotten,
Sweet chuckes, beat not the bones of the buried :
But I will forward with my deuice;
Sweet Royaltie beſtow on me the ſence of hearing.

Berowne teppes forth.

Qu. Speake braue Hector, we are much delighted.

Brag. I do adore thy ſweet Graces slipper.

Boy. Loues her by the foot.

Dum. He may not by the yard.

Brag. This Hector farre surmounted Hannibal.

The partie is gone.

Clo. Fellow Hector, ſhe is gone; ſhe is two moneths
on her way.

Brag. What meaneſt thou ?

Clo. Faith vnleſſe you play the honest Troyan, the
poore Wench is caſt away: ſhe's quick, the child brags
in her belly alreadie: tis yours.

Brag. Doſt thou infamonize me among Potentates?
Thou haſt die.

Clo. Then ſhall Hector be wlipt for Iaquenetta that
is quicke by him, and hang'd for Pompey, that is dead by
him.

Dum. Moſt rare Pompey.

Boi. Renowned Pompey.

Ber. Greater then great, great, great, great Pompy:
Pompy the huge.

Dum. Hector trembles.

Ber. Pompy is moued, more Atees more Aees ſtirre
them, or ſtirre them on.

Dum. Hector will challenge him.

Ber. I, if a haue no more mans blood in's belly, then
will ſup a Flea.

Brag. By the North-pole I do challenge thee.

Clo. I will not fight with a pole like a Northern man;
Ile flash, Ile do it by the ſword: I pray you let me bor-
row my Armes againe.

Dum. Roome for the incensed Worthies.

Clo. Ile do it in my ſhirt.

Dum. Moſt refolute Pompey.

Page. After, let me take you a button hole lower:
Do you not ſee Pompey is yncasing for the combat: what
meane

Loues Labour's loft.

143

meane you? you will lofe your reputation.

Brag. Gentlemen and Souldiers pardon me, I will not combat in my shirt,

Du. You may not denie it, Pompy hath made the challenge.

Brag. Sweet bloods, I both may, and will.

Ber. What reafon haue you for't?

Brag. The naked truth of it is, I haue no shirt,
I go woolward for penance.

Boy. True, and it was inioyed him in Rome for want of Linnen: since when, Ile be sworne he wore none, but a diphclout of Iaguenettau, and that hee weares next his heart for a fauour.

Enter a Meſſenger, Monsieur Marcade.

Mar. God faue you Madame.

Qu. Welcome Marcade, but that thou interruptest our merriment.

Marc. I am forrie Madam, for the newes I bring is heauie in my tongue. The King your father

Qu. Dead for my life.

Mar. Euen so: My tale is told.

Ber. Worthies away, the Scene begins to cloud.

Brag. For mine owne part, I breath free breath : I haue feene the day of wrong, through the little hole of difference, and I will right my ſelfe like a Souldier.

Exeunt Worthies

Kin. How fare's your Maiestie?

Qu. Boy prepare, I will away to night.

Kin. Madame not so, I do beſeeth you ſay.

Qu. Prepare I ſay. I thanke you gracious Lords For all your faire endeouours and entreats:

Out of a new ſad-ſoule, that you vouchſafe,
In your rich wifedome to excufe, or hide,
The liberal oppofition of our ſpirits,
If ouer-boldly we haue borne our ſelues,
In the conuerſe of breath (your gentlenefſe
Was guiltie of) ... Farewell worthie Lord:
A heauie heart beares not a humble tongue.
Excufe me ſo, comming so ſhort of thanks,
For my great ſuite, so easily obtain'd.

Kin. The extreme parts of time, extremelie formes All cauſes to the purpose of his ſpeed:
And often at his verie loose deſides
That, which long proceſſe could not arbitrate.
And though the mourning brow of progenie
Forbid the ſmiling curſe of Loue :
The holy ſuite which faine it would conuince,
Yet ſince loues argument was firſt on ſoon,
Let not the cloud of ſorrow iuſt it

From what it purports: ſince to waile friends loft,
Is not by much so wholſome profitable,
As to reioyce at friends but newly found.

Qu. I vnderstand you not, my greeſes are double.

Ber. Honeſt plain words, beſt pierce the ears of grieſe
And by theſe badges vnderſand the King,
For your faire ſakes have we neglected time,
Plaid ſoule play with our oaths: your beaure Ladies
Hath much deformed vs, ſhaping our humors
Euen to the oppoſed end of our intentes.

And what in vs hath seem'd ridiculous?

As Loue is full of vnbeſitting atraines,
All wanton as a childe, skipping and vaine.
Form'd by the eie, and therefore like the eie.

Full of straying ſhapes, of habits, and of formes

Varying in ſubieſts as the eie doth roule,

To euere varied obiect in his glance:

Which partie-coated prefence of loose loue

Put on by vs, if in your heauenly eies,

Haue misbecom'd our oaths and gravities.

Thole heauenlie eies that looke into theſe faults,

Suggested vs to make : therefore Ladies

Our loue being yours, the error that Loue makes

Is likewife yours. We to our ſelues proue falſe,

By being once falſe, for euere to be true

To thole that make vs both, faire Ladies you.

And euen that falſhood in it ſelfe a finne,

Thus purifies it ſelfe, and turnes to grace.

Qu. We haue recei'd your Letters, full of Loue:
Your Faunsours, the Ambaſſadors of Loue.

And in our maiden counfaile rated them,

At courtship, pleafant ieſt, and curſeſe,

As bumbaſt and as lining to the time:

But more deuout then theſe are our reſpects

Haue we not bene, and therefore met your loues

In their owne ſaſhion, like a merriment.

Du. Our letters Madam, ſhew'd much more then ieſt.

Lo. So did our lookes.

Rofa. We did not coat them ſo.

Kin. Now at the leftest minute of the houre,
Grant vs your loues.

Qu. A time me thinkes too ſhort,

To make a world-without-end bargaine in;

No, no my Lord, your Grace is perjur'd much,

Full of deare guilkeineſſe, and therefore this:

If for my Loue (as there is no (uch cauſe)

You will do ought, this ſhall you do for me.

Your oth I will not truſt: but go with ſpeed

To ſome forlorne and naked Hermitage,

Remote from all the pleasures of the world:

There ſlay, vntill the twelue Celestiall ſignes

Hauë brought about their annuall reckoning.

If this auſtere infociable life,

Change not your offer made in heate of blood:

If froſts, and faſts, hard lodging, and thin weeds

Nip not the gaudie bloſſomes of your Loue,

But that it beare this triall, and laſt loue:

Then at the expiration of the yeare,

Come challenge me, challenge me by theſe deſerts,

And by this Virgin palme, now kifſing thine,

I will be thine: and till that inſant ſhut

My wofull ſelfe vp in a mourning houſe,

Raining the teares of lamentation,

For the remembrance of my Fathers death.

If this thou do denie, let my parts part,

Neither entitled in the others hart.

Kin. If this, or more then this, I would denie,
To flatter vp the ſ powers of mine with reſt,
The ſodaine hand of death cloſe vp mine eie.
Hence euer then, my heart is in thy breſt.

Ber. And what to me my Loue? and what to me?

Ref. You muſt be purged too, your fins are rack'd.
You are appoint with faults and periury:
Therefore if you my fauor meane to get,
A tweluemonth ſhall you ſpend, and neuer reſt,
But ſeeke the wearie beds of people ſicke.

Du. But what to me my loue? but what to me?

Kat. A wife? a beard, faire health, and honeſtie,
With three-fold loue, I wifh you all theſe three.

Du. O ſhall I ſay, I thank you gentle wife?

Kat. Not so my Lord, a tweluemonth and a day,

Ile

Loues Labour's loft.

144

Ile marke no words that smoothfac'd woocers say.

Come when the King doth to my Ladie come :

Then if I haue much loue, Ile giue you eie.

Dum. Ile ferue thee true and faithfully till then.

Kath. Yet fweare not, leaft ye be foriworne agen.

Lon. What faies Maria?

Mari. At the tweluemonths end,

Ile change my blacke Gowne, for a faithfull friend.

Lon. Ile stay with patience: but the time is long.

Mari. The liker you, few taller are fo Yong.

Ber. Studies my Ladie? Miftresse, looke on me,

Behold the window of my heart, mine eie:

What humble suite attends thy anſwer there,

Impoſe ſome ſeruice on me for my loue.

Rof. Oſt haue I heard of you my Lord Berowne,
Before I ſaw you: and the worlds large tongue
Proclaimes you for a man repleate with mockes,

Full of comparions, and wounding ſloutes :

Which you on all eſtates will execute,
That lie within the mercie of your w itself.

To weed this Wormewood from your fruitfull braine,

And therewithall to win me, if you pleafe,

Without the which I am not to be won :

You ſhall this tweluemonth terme from day to day,

Viſite the ſpeechleſſe ſicke, and ſtill conuerſe

With groaning wretches: and your taske ſhall be,

With all the ſterce endeavour of your w itself.

To enforce the pained impotent to ſmile.

Ber. To moue wilde laughter in the throate of death?
It cannot be, it is impoſſible.

Mirth cannot moue a ſoule in agonie.

Rof. Why that's the way to choke a gibing ſpirit,
Whose influence is begot of that loose grace,

Which ſhallow laughing hearers giue to fooles :

A iſts proſperitie, lies in the eare

Of him that heares it, neuer in the tongue

Of him that makes it : then, if ſickly eares,

Deaſt with the clamors of their owne deare grones,

Will heare your idle ſcornes; continue then,

And I will haue you, and that fault withall.

But if they will not, throw away that ſpirit,

And I ſhal finde you empiet of that fault,

Right ioyfull of your reformation.

Ber. A tweluemonh? Well: befall what will befall,
Ile iest a tweluemonth in an Hofpitall.

Qu. I fweet my Lord, and fo I take my leaue.

King. No Madam, we will bring you on your way.

Ber. Our woing doth not end like an old Play:

Iacke hath not Gill : theſe Ladies courteſe

Might wel haue made our ſport a Comedie.

Km. Come fir, it wants a tweluemonth and a day,

And then 'twil end.

Ber. That's too long for a play.

Enter Braggart.

Brag. Sweet Maiety vouchſaſe me.

Qu. Was not that Hecor?

Dum. The worthie Knight of Troy.

Brag. I wil kiffle thy royal finger, and take leaue.

I am a Votarie, I haue vow'd to Iaquenetta to holde the

Plough for her fweet loue three yeares. But moſt eſſe,
med greatneſſe, wil you heare the Dialogue that the two
Learned men haue compiled, in prieſe of the Owle and
the Cuckow? It should haue followed in the end of our
ſnow.

Kin. Call them forth quickly, we will do ſo,

Brag. Holla, Approach.

Enter all.

This ſide is Hiems, Winter.

This Ver, the Spring: the one maintained by the Owle,
Th'other by the Cuckow.

Ver, begin.

The Song.

When Dafies pied, and Violets blew,

And Cuckow-buds of yellow hew :

And Ladie-smockes all filuer white,

Do paint the Medowes with delight.

The Cuckow then on euerie tree,

Mockes married men, for thus ſings he,

Cuckow.

Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of ſeare,

Vnpleasing to a married eare.

When Shepheards pipe on Oaten ſtrawes,

And merrie Larkes are Ploughmens clocks:

When Turtles tread, and Rookes and Dawes,

And Maidens bleach their summer ſmockes :

Mockes married men; for thus ſings he,

Cuckow.

Vnpleasing to a married eare.

Winter.

When Ificles hang by the wall,

And Dicke the Sphepheard blowes his naile;

And Tom beares Logges into the hall,

And Milke comes frozen home in paile :

When blood is nipt, and waies be fowle,

Then nightly ſings the staring Owle

Tu-whit to-who.

A merrie note,

While greaſe Ione doth keele the pot.

When all aloud the winde doth blow,

And coſſing drownes the Parſons ſaw :

And birds fit brooding in the ſnow,

And Marrians noſe lookes red and raw :

When roaſted Crabs hihſe in the bowle,

Then nightly ſings the ſtaring Owle,

Tu-whit to who :

A merrie note,

Brag. The Words of Mercurie,

Are harſh after the ſongs of Apollo :

You that way; we this way.

EXEQUIS OMINES.

FINIS.

A Midsummer nights Dreame.

Her. So will I grow, so liue, so die my Lord,
Ere I will yeeld my virgin Patent vp
Vnto his Lordship, whose vnwifed yoake,
My foule contents not to giue soueraignty.

The. Take time to paufe, and by the next new Moon
The sealing day betwixt my loue and me,
For euerlafting bond of fellowship:
Vpon that day either prepare to dye,
For diſobedience to your fathers will,
Or eſſe to wed Demetrius as hee would,
Or on Dianaes Altar to proteſt
For aie, auſterity, and single life.

Dem. Relent, sweet Hermia, and Lysander, yeelde
Thy crazed title to my certaine right.

Lyf. You haue her fathers loue, Demetrius :
Let me haue Hermiaes; do you marry him,

Egeus. Scornfull Lysander, true, he hath my Loue;
And what is mine, my loue shall render him.
And ſhe is mine, and all my right of her,
I do eſtate vnto Demetrius.

Lyf. I am my Lord, as well derin'd as he,
As well poffeſt: my loue is more then his:
My fortunes euery way as fairely ranck'd
(If not with vantage) as Demetrius :
And (which is more then all these boaſts can be)
I am belou'd of beauteous Hermia.

Why should not I then p[ro]ſecute my right?
Demetrius, Ile auouch it to his head,

Made loue to Nedars daughter, Helena,
And won her foule: and ſhe (weet Ladie) dotes,
Deuoutly dotes, dotes in Idolatry,
Vpon this spotted and inconſtant man.

The. I muſt conſeſſe, that I haue heard so much,
And with Demetrius thought to haue ſpoke thereof:

But being ouer-full of ſelſe-affaires,
My minde did l[ose] it. But Demetrius come,
And come Egeus, you ſhall go with me,
I haue ſome private ſchooling for you both.

For you faire Hermia, looke you arme your ſelſe,
To fit your fancies to your Fathers will;
Or eſſe the Law of Athens yeelds you vp
(Which by no meanes we may extenuate)

To death, or to a vow of single life.

Come my Hippolita, what cheare my loue?

Demetrius and Egeus go along:

I must imploy you in ſome buſineſſe
Againſt our nuptiall, and conferre with you

Of ſomething, neerely that concerns your ſelues.

Ege. With duty and deſire we follow you. Exennt
Manet Lysander and Hermia.

Lyf. How now my loue? Why is your cheek so pale?
How chance the Rofes there do fade so ſaſt?

Her. Belike for want of raine, which I could well
Beteeme them, from the tempeſt of mine eyes.

Lyf. For ought that euer I could reade,
Could euer heare by tale or hiftorie,

The course of true loue neuer did run ſmooth,
But either it was different in blood.

Her. O croſſe! too high to be enthrall'd to loue.

Lyf. Or eſſe miſgraſſed, in reſpect of yeares.

Her. O spight! too old to be ingag'd to young.

Lyf. Or eſſe it ſlood vpon the choife of merit.

Her. O hell! to choofe loue by anothers eie.

Lyf. Or if there were a ſimpathie in choife,

Warre, death, or ſickneſſe, did lay ſiege to it;

Making it momentarie, as a found:

Swift as a shadow, ſhort as any dreame,
Briefe as the lightning in the collied night,
That (in a ſpleene) vnfoldes both heauen and earth;
And ere a man hath power to ſay, behold,
The iawes of darkneſſe do deuoure it vp:
So quicke bright things come to confusion.

Her. If then true Louers haue beene euer croſſ,
It stands as an edict in deſtine:
Then let vs teach our triall patience,
Because it is a cuſtomarie croſſe,
As due to loue, as thoughts, and dreames, and fightes,
Wishes and teares; poore Fancies to followers.

Lyf. A good perſwafion; therefore heare me Hermia,
I haue a Widdow Aunt, a dowager,
Of great reuennew, and ſhe hath no childe,
From Athens is her house remou'd ſeuen leagues,
And ſhe reſpects me, as her onely ſonne :
There gentle Hermia, may I marrie thee,
And to that place, the ſharpe Athenian Law
Cannot purſue vs. If thou louſt me, then
Steale forth thy fathers house to morrow night:
And in the wood, a league without the towne,
(Where I did meete thee once with Helena,
To do obſeruance for a morne of May)
There will I flay for thee.

Her. My good Lysander,
I ſweare to thee, by Cupids ſtrongest bow,
By his beſt arrow with the golden head,
By the ſimplicitie of Venus Doutes,
By that which knitteth ſoules, and proſpers loue,
And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage Queene,
When the falſe Troyan vnder ſaue was ſeene,
By all the vowes that euer women haue broke,
(In number more then euer women ſpoke)
In that fame place thou haſt appointed me,
To morrow truly will I meete with thee.

Lyf. Keepe promife loue: looke here comes Helena.

Enter Helena.

Her. God ſpeede faire Helena, whither away?

Hel. Cal you me faire? that faire againe vnſay,
Demetrius loues you faire: O happie faire!
Your eyes are loadſtarres, and your tongues ſweet ayre
More tuneable then Larke to ſhepheards care,
When wheate is greene, when hauthorne buds appear,
Sickneſſe is catching: O were fauor ſo,
Your words I catch, faire Hermia ere I go,
My eare should catch your voice, my eye, your eye,
My tongue ſhould catch your tongues ſweet melodie,
Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated,
The reſt I lie giue to be to you tranſlated.

O teach me how you looke, and with what art
you ſway the motion of Demetrius hart.

Her. I frowne vpon him, yet he loues me still.
Hel. O that your frownes would teach my ſmiles
fuch skil.

Her. I giue him curſes, yet he giues me loue.

Hel. O that my prayers could ſuch affectioon mooue?

Her. The more I hate, the more he follows me.

Hel. The more I loue, the more he hateth me.

Her. His ſoly Helena is none of mine.

Hel. None but your beauty, wold that fault wer mine
Her. Take comfort: he no more ſhall fee my face,
Lysander and my ſelſe will ſie this place.

Before the time I did Lysander fee,
Seem'd Athens like a Paradise to me.

A Midsummer nights Dreame.

147

O then, what graces in my Loue do dwell,
That he hath turn'd a heauen into hell:
Lyſ. Helen,to you our mindes we will unfold,
To morrow night,when Phabe doth behold
Her filuer visage,in the watry glaſſe,
Decking with liquid pearle,the bladed graſſe
(A time that Louers flights doth still conceale)
Through Athens gates,haue we deuised to feale.
Her. And in the wood,where often you and I,
Vpon faint Primrose beds,were went to lye,
Emptying our boſomes,of their counſell (weld:
There my Lyſander, and my ſelfe shall meete,
And thence from Athens turne away our eyes
To ſeeke new friends and ſtrange companions,
Farwell ſweet play-fellow,pray thou for vs,
And good lucke grant thee thy Demetrius.
Keepe word Lyſander we muſt ſtare our fight,
From louers foode, till morrow deepe midnight.

Exit Hermia.

Lyſ. I will my Hermia. Helena adieu,

As you on him, Demetrius dotes on you. Exit Lyſander.
Hele. How happy ſome ore other ſome can be?

Through Athens I am thought as faire as the.

But what of that? Demetrius thinkes not so:
He will not know,what all, but he doth know,
And as hee erres,doting on Hermias eyes;
So I, admiring of his qualities:

Things bafe and vilde, holding no quantity,
Loue can transpofe to forme and dignity,
Loue lookes not with the eyes, but with the minde,
And therefore is wing'd Cúpid painted blinde.
Nor hath loues minde of any iudgement taſe:
Wings and no eyes, figure,vinheedy haſſe.
And therefore is Loue ſaid to be a childe,
Because in choife he is often beguil'd,

As waggish boyes in game them ſelues ſoſtware;
So the boy Loue is periur'd every where:

For ere Demetrius lookt on Hermias cyne,
He hail'd downe oathes that he was onely mine.

And when this Haile ſome heat from Hermia felt,
So he diffou'd,and ſhowres of oathes did melt,

I will goe tell him of faire Hermias flight:
Then to the wood will he, to morrow night

Purſue her; and for his intelligence,
If I haue thanks, it is a deere expence:

But heerein meant I to enrich my paine,

To haue his fight thither, and backe againe.

Exit.

Enter Quince the Carpenter, Snug the Ioyner, Bottome the Weaver, Flute the bellowes-mender, Snout the Tinker, and Starueling the Taylor.

Quin. Is all our company here?

Bot. You were beſt to call them generally, man by man, according to the ſcrip.

Qui. Here is the ſerowle of euery man's name, which is thought fit through all Athens, to play in our Enterlude before the Duke and the Duthes, on his wedding day at night.

Bot. First, good Peter Quince, ſay what the play treats on; then read the names of the Actors: and so grow on to a point.

Quin. Marry our play is the moſt lamentable Comedyy, and moſt cruel death of Pyramus and Thisbice.

Bot. A very good piece of worke I affure you, and a

merry. Now good Peter Quince, call forth your Actors
by the ſerowle. Masters spread your ſelues.

Quince. Anſwere as I call you. Nick Bottome the Weauer.

Bottome. Ready; name what part I am for, and proceed.

Quince. You Nicke Bottome are set downe for Pyramus.

Bot. What is Pyramus, a louer, or a tyrant?

Quin. A Louer that kills himſelfe moſt gallantly for loue.

Bot. That will aske ſome teares in the true performing of it: if I do it, let the audience looke to their eies: I will mooue ſtormes; I will condole in ſome meaſure. To the reſt yet, my chieſe humour is for a tyrant. I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to teare a Cat in, to make all ſplit the raging Rocks; and ſhuiering ſhocks ſhall break the locks of prſon gates, and Phibbus carre ſhall ſhine from farre, and make and marre the foolish Fates. This was lofty. Now name the reſt of the Players. This is Ercles vaine, a tyrants vaine: a louer is more condoning.

Quin. Francis Flute the Bellowes-mender.

Flu. Heere Peter Quince.

Quin. You muſt take Thisbie on you.

Flut. What is Thisbie, a wandring Knight?

Quin. It is the Lady that Pyramus muſt loue.

Flut. Nay faith, let not mee play a woman, I haue a beard comming.

Qui. That's all one, you ſhall play it in a Maske, and you may ſpeak as small as you will.

Bot. And I may hide my ſace, let me play Thisbie too: Ile ſpeak in a monſtrous little voyce; Thisbne, Thisbne, ah Pyramus my louer deare, thy Thisbie deare, and Lady deare.

Quin. No no, you muſt play Pyramus, and Flute, you Thisbie.

Bot. Well, proceed.

Qu. Robin Starueling the Taylor.

Star. Heere Peter Quince.

Quince. Robin Starueling, you muſt play Thisbie mother?

Tom Snow, the Tinker.

Snowt. Heere Peter Quince.

Quin. You, Pyramus father; my ſelf, Thisbie father; Snugge the loyner, you the Lyons part: and I hope there is a play fitted.

Snug. Haue you the Lions part written? pray you if be, giue it me, for I am flow of fludie.

Quin. You may doe it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring.

Bot. Let mee play the Lyon too, I will roare that I will doe any man's heart good to heare me. I will roare, that I will make the Duke ſay, Let him roare againe, let him roare againe.

Quin. If you should doe it too teribly, you would fright the Dutchefle and the Ladies, that they would ſhrike, and that were enough to hang vs all.

All. That would hang vs euery mothers ſonne.

Bottome. Igraunt you friends, if that you should fright the Ladies out of their Wittes, they would haue no more diſcretion but to hang vs: but I will aggrauate my voyce ſo, that I will roare you as gently as any ſucking Doue; I will roare and 'twere any Nightingale.

Quin. You can play no part but Piramus, for Piramus

N 2

mus

A Midsummer nights Dreame.

148

mus is a sweet-fac'd man, a proper man as one shall see in
a lummers day; a most lonely Gentleman-like man, ther-
fore you must needs play Piramides.

Bot. Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I
best to play it in?

Quin. Why, what you will.

Bot. I will discharge it, in either your straw-colour
beard, your orange tawnie beard, your purple in graine
beard, or your French-crowne colour'd beard, your per-
fect yellow.

Quin. Some of your French Crownes have no haire
at all, and then you will play bare-fac'd. But matters here
are your parts, and I am to intreat you, request you, and
defire you, to con them by too morrow night: and meet
me in the palace wood, a mile without the Towne, by
Moone-light, there we will rehearse for if we meete in
the Citie, we shall be dog'd with company, and our deu-
fes knowne. In the meane time, I will draw a bil of pro-
perties, such as our play wants. I pray you faile me not.

Bottom. We will meete, and there we may rehearse
more oblicenely and courageously. Take paines, be per-
fect, adieu.

Quin. At the Dukes oake we meete.

Bot. Enough, hold or cut bow-ftrings.

Exeunt

Abus Secundus.

Enter a Fairie at one door, and Robin good-
fellow at another.

Rob. How now spirit, whether wander you ?

Fai. Ouer hil, ouer dale, through buffi, through briar,
Ouer parke, ouer pale, through flood, through fire,
I do wander euere where, swifter then 9 Moons sphere;
And I ferue the Fairy Queene, to dew her orbs vpon the
The Cowflips tall, her pensioners bee,
(green.
In their gold coats, spots you see,
Thofe be Rubies, Fairie favors,
In those freckles, line their favors,
I must go seeke some dew drops here,
And hang apearle in every cowflips care.
Farewell thou Lob of spirits, He be gon,
Our Queene and all her Elues come heree anon.

Rob. The King doth keepe his Reuels here to night,
Take heed the Queene come not within his fight,
For Oberon is palsing fell and wrath,
Because that he, as her attendant, hath
A lonely boy stolne from an Indian King,
She neuer had so sweet a changeling,
And jealous Oberon would haue the childe
Knight of his traine, to trace the Forrefts wilde.
But the (perforce) with-holds the loued boy,
Crownes him with flowers, and makes him all her joy,
And now they neuer meete in goue, or greene,
By fountaine cleere, or spangled star-light shcene,
But they do square, that all their Elues for feare
Creepe into Acorne cups and hide them there.

Fai. Either I mistake your shape and making quite,
Or else you are that swified and knaunith spirit
Cal'd Robin Good-fellow. Are you not hee,
That frights the maidens of the Villagree,
Skim milke, and sometimes labour in the querne,
And boollefle make the breathleffe hufwife cherne,
And sometime make the drinke to beare no barme,

Misleade night-wanderers, laughing at their harme,
Thofe that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Pucke,
You do their worke, and they shall haue good lucke,
Are not you he?

Rob. Thou speak'st a rights:

I am that merrie wanderer of the night:
I lieft to Oberon, and make him smile,
When I a fat and beane-fed horse beguile,
Neighing in likenesse of a filly foale,
And sometime lurke I in a Gofflips bole,
In very likenesse of a roafed crab:

And when she drinkes, against her lips I bob,
And on her withered dewlop poure the Ale.
The wifesp Aunt telling the faddest tale,
Sometime for three-foot stoole, mistaketh me,
Then flip I from her bum, downe topples she,
And tailour cries, and fals into a coffee.
And then the whole quire hold their hips, and loffe,
And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and fw eare,
A merrier houre vvas neuer wafted there.
But roome Fairy, here comes Oberon.

Fair. And heree my Mistris:

Would that he were gone.

Enter the King of Fairies at one door with his traine,
and the Queene at another with hers.

Ob. Ill met by Moone-light,

Proud Tytania.

Qu. What, icalious Oberon? Fairy skip hence,
I haue forworne his bed, and companie.

Ob. Tarrieraft Wanton; am not I thy Lord?

Qu. Then I must be thy Lady: but I know
When thou vvaftst tolne away from Fairy Land,
And in the shape of Corin, fate all day,
Playing on pipes of Corne, and versing loue
To amorous Phillipa. Why art thou here?
Come from the fartheft steepe of India?
But that forfooth the bouncing Amazon
Your buskin'd Mistleffe, and your Warrior loue,
To Theseus must be Wedded; and you come,
To giue your bed ioy and prosperitie.

Ob. How can it thus for shame Tytania,
Glance at my credite, vwith Hippelita?
Knowing I knovv thy love to Theseus.

Didst thou not leade him through the glimmering night
From Peregenia, whom he rauished?
And make him vwith faire Eagles breake his faith
With Ariadne, and Atiopa?

Quet These are the forgeries of icaloufie,
And neuer since the middle Summers spring
Met vve on hil, in dale, forreft, or mead,
By paued fountaine, er by rufhie brooke,
Or in the beached margent of the sea,
To dance our ringlets to the whistling Winde,
But with thy braules thou haft disturb'd our sport,
Therefore the Windes, piping to vs in vaine;
As in reuenge, haue fuck'd vp from the sea
Contagious fogges. Which falling in the Land,
Hath euere petty Riuer made so proud,
That they haue ouer-borne their Continents.
The Oxe hath therefore stretch'd his yoake in vaine,
The Ploughman loft his sweat, and the greene Come
Hath rotted, ere his youth attain'd a beard.
The fold stands empty in the drowned field,
And Crowes are fasted with the murrion flocks,

The

A Midsummer nights Dreame.

149

The nine mens Morris is fild vp with mud,
And the quent Mazes in the wanton greene,
For lacke of tread are vndiftinguishable.
The humane mortals want their winter heere,
No night is now with hymne or caroll bleſſ;
Therefore the Moone (the gouerneſſe of floods)
Pale in her anger, waſhes all the aire;
That Rheumaticke diſeasens do abound.
And through this diſtemperature, we ſee
The Seaſons alter; hoared headed froſts
Fall in the freeſt lap of the crinimn Roſe,
And on old *Hyems* chinne and Icie crowne,
An odorous Chaplet of ſweet Sommer buds!
Is as in mockry fet. The Spring, the Sommer,
The childing Autumne, angry Winter change
Their wonted Liueries, and the mazed world,
By their increafe, now knowes not which is which
And this fame progeny of euills,
Comes from our debate, from our diffention,
We are their parents and original.

*Ober.* Do you amend it then, it lies in you,
Why should Titania crosse her Oberon?
I do but beg a little changling boy,
To be my Henchman.

*Qu.* Set your heart at reſt,
The Faîty land buieſes not the childe of me,
His mother was a Votrefſe of my Order,
And in the ſpiced Indian aire, by night
Full often hath ſhe goſſipt by my ſide,
And fat with me on *Neptunes* yellow fands,
Marking the embarked traders on the flood,
When we have taught to ſee the failes conceiue,
And grow big bellied with the wanton winde:
Which ſhe with pretty and with ſwimming gate,
Following (her wombe then rich with my yong ſquire)
Would imitate, and ſaile vpon the Land,
To fetch me trifles, and returne againe,
As from a voyage, rich with merchandize.
And ſhe being mortall of that boy did die,
And for her ſake I doe reare vp her boy,
And for her ſake I will not part with him.

*Ob.* How long within this wood intend you ſlay?

*Qu.* Perchance till after *The ſeus* wedding day.
If you will patiently dance in our Round,
And fee our Moone-light reuels, goe with vs;
If not, then me and I will ſpare your haunts.
*Ob.* Giue me that boy, and I will goe with thee.

*Ob.* Not for thy Fairy Kingdome. Fairies away:
We shall chide downe right, if I longer ſlay. Exeunt.

*Ob.* Wel, go thy way: thou ſhalt not from this grove,
Till I torment thee for this inuury.
My gentle *Pucke* come hither; then remembreſt
Since once I fat vpon a promontory,
And heard a Meere-maide on a *Dolphins* backe,
Vittering ſuch dulcet and harmonious breath,
That the rude sea grew euill at her ſong,
And certaine farres ſhot madly from their Spheres,
To heare the *Sea*-maids muſickk.

*Puc.* I remember.

*Ob.* How that time I ſay (but thou couldst not)
Flying betweene the cold Moone and the earth,
*Cupid* all arm'd; a certaine aim he tooke
At a faire Veſtall, throned by the Weſt,
And loos'd his loue-ſhaft *ſmarrty* from his bow,
As it ſhould pierce a hundred thouſand hearts,
But I might fee young *Cupid* ſiery ſhaft

Quencht in the chaſte beames of the watry Moone;
And the imperiall Votrefle paffed on,
In maiden meditation, fancy free.
Yet markt I where the bolt of *Cupid* fell.
It fell vpon a little weſterne flower;
Before, milke-white; now purple with loues wound,
And maidens call it, Loue in idlenſe.
Fetch me that flowers; the hearb I ſhew'd thee once,
The iuyce of it, on ſleeping eye-lids laid,
Will make or man or woman madly dote
Vpon the next liue creature that it fees.
Fetch me this hearbe, and be thou heere againe,
Ere the *Leviathan* can ſwim a league.

*Pucke.* Ile put a girdle about the earth, in forty mi-
nutes.

*Ober.* Hauing once this iuyce,
Ile watch *Titania*, when ſhe is aſſleepe,
And drop the liquor of it in her eyes:
The next thing when ſhe waking looks vpon,
(Be it on Lyon, Beare, or Wolfe, or Bull,
On medling *Monkey*, or on buſe Ape)
Shee ſhall purſue it, with the ſoule of loue.
And ere I take this charme off from her fight,
(As I can take it with another hearbe)
Ile make her render vp her Page to me.
But who comes here? I am puſible,
And I will ouer-heare their conference.

*Enter Demetrius, Helena following him.*

*Deme.* I loue thee not, therefore purſue me not,
Where is *Lyfander*, and faire *Hermia*?
The one I lay, the other ſtayeth me.
Thou toldſt me they were ſolne into this wood;
And heere am I, and wood within this wood,
Because I cannot meet my *Hermia*.
Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more.

*Hel.* You draw me, you hard-hearted Adamant,
But yet you draw not Iron, for my heart
Is true as ſteele. Leaue you your power to draw,
And I ſhall haue no power to follow you.

*Deme.* Do I entice you? do I ſpeake you faire?
Or rather doe I not in plaine ſtorth,
Tell you I doe not, nor I cannot loue you?

*Hel.* And euen for that do I loue thee the more;
I am your ſpaniell, and *Demetrius*;
The more you beaſt me, I will fawne on you.
Vſeme but as your ſpaniell; *ſpurne* me, *ſtrike* me,
Negleſt me, loſe me; onely giue me leaue
(Vnworthy as I am) to follow you.
What worſer place can I beg in your loue,
(And yet a place of high respect with me)
Then to be ſved as you doe your dogge.

*Dem.* Tempt not too much the hatred of my ſpirit,
For I am ſडck when I do looke on thee.

*Hel.* And I am ſडck when I looke not on you.
*Dem.* You doe impeach your modety too much,
To leaue the Citry, and commit your ſelſe
Into the hands of one that loues you not,
To truſt the opportunity of night,
And the ill counſell of a deſert place,
With the rich worth of your virginty.

*Hel.* Your vertue is my priuilege: for that
It is not night when I doe ſee your face.
Therefore I thinke I am not in the night,
Nor doth this wood lacke worlds of company,

N 3

For

150
*A Midsummer nights Dreame.*

For you in my respect are all the world.

Then how can it be said I am alone,

When all the world is heere to looke on me?

Dem. Ile run from thee, and hide me in the brakes,
And leaue thee to the mercy of wilde beafts.

Hel. The wildeft hath not such a heart as you;
Runne when you will, the story shall be chang'd :
Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chafe;

The Doue purfues the Griffin, the milde Hinde
Makes ſpeed to catch the Tyger. Bootlesſe ſpeede,
When cowardife purſues, and valour flies.

Demet. I will not ſay thy queſtions, let me go;
Or if thou follow me, doe not beleeue,
But I ſhall doe thee mifchieſe in the wood.

Hel. I, in the Temple, in the Towne, and Field
You doe me mifchieſe. Fye Demetriu,
Your wrongs doe ſet a ſcandall on my ſexe :
We cannot fight for loue, as men may doe;
We should be woo'd, and were not made to wooe.
I follow thee, and make a heauen of hell,
To die vpon the hand I loue ſo well.

Exit.

Ob. Fare thee well Nymph, ere he do leaue this grove,
Thou ſhalt flie him, and he ſhall feeke thy loue.
Haſt thou the flower there? Welcome wanderer.

### Enter Pucke.

Puck. I, there it is.

Ob. I pray thee give it me.

I know a banke where the wilde time blowes,
Where Oxſlips and the nodding Violet growes,
Quite ouer-cannoped with juſcious woodbine,
With ſweet muske roſes, and with Eglantine;
There ſleepes Tjytania, ſometime of the night,
Lul'd in these flowers, with dances and delight :
And there the ſnake throwes her enammel'd skinne,
Weed wide enough to rap a Fairy in.

And with the iuyce of this Ile ſtreake her eyes,
And make her full of hatefull ſantafies.

Take thou ſome of it, and ſeek through this grove;
A ſweet Athenian Lady is in loue

With a diſdainefull youth: annoint his eyes,

But doe it when the next thing he eſpies,

May be the Lady. Thou ſhalt know the man,

By the Athenian garments he hath on.

Effect it with ſome care, that he may proue

More fond on her, then ſhe vpon her loue;

And looke thou meet me ere the firſt Cocke crow.

Pu. Feare not my Lord, your ſeruant ſhall do ſo. Exit.

### Enter Queene of Fairies, with her traine.

Queen. Come, now a Roundell, and a Fairy ſong;
Then for the third part of a minute hence,

Some to kill Cankers in the muske roſe buds,

Some warre with Reremife, for their leathern wings,

To make my ſmall Elues coates, and ſome keepe backe

The clamorous Owle that nightly hoots and wonders

At our queint ſpirits : Sing me now a ſlceep,

Then to your offices, and let me reſt.

### Fairies Sing.

You Spotted Snakes with double tongue,
Thorny Hedgehogges be not ſene,
News and blinde wormes do no wrong,
Come not neare our Fairy Queens.

Philomele with melody,

Sing in your ſweet Lullaby.

Lulla, lulla, Lullaby, lulla, lulla, Lullaby,
Newer harme, nor ſpell, nor charme,
Come our lonely Lady nye,

So good night with Lullaby.

2. Fairy. Weaning Spiders come not beere,

Hence you long leg'd Spinners, hence:

Beetles blacke approach not neere;

Worme nor Snayle doe no offence.

Philomele with melody, &c.

1. Fairy. Hence away, now all is well;

One aloofe, stand Centinell.

Shee ſleeps.

### Enter Oberon.

Ober. What thou feetest when thou doſt wake,
Doe it for thy true Loue take:

Loue and languish for his ſake.

Be it Ounce, or Catte, or Beare,

Pard, or Boare with briftled haire,

In thy eye that ſhall appeare,

When thou wak'st, it is thy deare,

Wake when ſome vile thing is neere.

### Enter Lifander and Hermia.

Lif. Faire loue, you faint with wandring in ſy woods,
And to ſpeake troth I haue forgot our way:
Wee'll reſt vs Hermia, if you think it good,
And tarry for the comfort of the day.

Her. Be it ſo Lifander; finde you out a bed,
For I vpon this banke will reſt my head.

Lys. One turfe shall ſerue as pillow for vs both,
One heart, one bed, two boſomes, and one troth.

Her. Nay good Lifander, for my ſake my deere
Lie further off yet, doe not lie ſo neere.

Lys. O take the fence ſweet, of my innocence,
Loue takes the meaning, in loues conference,
I meane that my heart vnto yours is knit,
So that but one heart can you make of it.
Two boſomes interchanged with an oath,
So then two boſomes, and a ſingle troth.
Then by your ſide, no bed-roome me deny,
For lying ſo, Hermia, I doe not lye.

Her. Lifander riddles very prettily;
Now much beſhrew my manners and my pride,
If Hermia meant to ſay, Lifander lied.
But gentle friend, for loue and courtesie

Lie further off, in humane modetiy,

Such ſeparation, as may well be ſaid,

Becomes a vertuous batchelour, and a maide,

So farre be diſtant, and good night ſweet friend;

Thy loue were alter, till thy ſweet life end.

Lys. Amen, amen, to that faire prayer, ſay I,
And then end life, when I end loyalty :

Heere is my bed, ſleepe giue thee all his reſt.

Her. With hafse that wifh, the wifhes eyes be preſt.
Enter Pucke. They ſleep.

Puck. Through the Forreſt have I gone,
But Athenian finde I none,

One whoſe eyes I might approue.

This flowers force in flirring loue.

Night and ſilence: who is heere?

Weedes of Athens he doth weare:

This is he (my maſter ſaid).

Despised the Athenian maide:

And heere the maiden ſleeping found,

On

A Midsummer Nights Dreame.

151

On the danke and dury ground.
Pretty foule,she duft not lye
Neere this lacke-loue,this kill-curteſe.
Churle,vpon thy eyes I throw
All the power this charme doth owe:
When thou wak it,let loue forbid
Sleepe his ſeate on thy eye-lid:
So awake when I am gone:
For I muſt now to Oberon.

Exit.

Enter Demetrius and Helena running.

Hel. Stay, though thou kill me,ſweete Demetrius.

Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, ſweete Demetrius.
De. I charge thee hence,and do not haunt me thus.

Hel. O wilt thou darkling leaue me? do not so.

De. Stay on thy perill, alone will goe.

Exit Demetrius.

Hel. O I am out of breath,in this fond chace,
The more my prayer,the leſer is my grace,
Happy is Hermia, whereſoere ſhe lies;
For ſhe hath bleſſed and attriſue eyes.
How came her eyes ſo bright? Not with ſalt teares
If ſo, my eyes are oftner waſht then hers.

No, no, I am as vgly as a ſcar e;

For beaſts that meete me,runne away for ſeare,
Therefore no maruaile,though Demetrius
Doe as a monſter,ſlie my preſence thus.

What wicked and diſſlembling glaſſe of mine,
Made me compare with Hermias ſphery cyne?
But who is here? Lysander on the ground;

But who is here? Lysander on the ground;
Deade or aſſleepe? I fee no bloud, no wound,
Lysander, if you lue, good fir awake.

Lys. And run through fire I will for thy ſweet ſake.
Transparent Helena, nature her ſhewes art,
That through thy boſome makes me fee thy heart.
Where is Demetrius? oh how fit a word
Is that vile name, to perſish on my ſword!

Hel. Do not ſay fo Lysander, ſay not fo :

What though he loue your Hermia? Lord, what though?
Yet Hermia ſtill loues you; then be content,

Lys. Content with Hermia? No, I do repent
The tedious minutes I with her haue ſpent.
Not Hermia, but Helena now I loue;
Who will not change a Rauen for a Doue?
The will of man is by his reaſon (way'd :
And reaſon faies you are the worthier Maide.
Things growing are not ripe vntill their ſeason;
So I being yong, till now ripe not to reaſon,
And touching now the point of humane skill,
Reaſon becomes the Marſhall to my will,
And leades me to your eyes, where I orelooke
Loues ſtories, written in Loues richeſt booke.

Hel. Wherefore was I to this keene mockery borne?
When at your hands did I deferue this ſcome?
If not enough, ift not enough, yong man,
That I did neuer, no nor neuer can,
Deferue a ſweete looke from Demetrius eye,
But you muſt flout my inſufficiency?
Good troth you do me wrong(good-footh you do)

Inuch diſdainfull manner, me to wooe.

But fare you well; perſorce I muſt conſeſſe,
I thought you Lord of more true gentlenesse.
Oh, that a Lady of one man refus'd,
Should of another therefore be abus'd.

Exit.

Lys. She fees not Hermia: Hermia sleepe thou there,
And neuer maſſethou come Lysander neere;

For as a ſurfeit of the ſweeteſt things
The deepest loathing to the ſtomacke brings :

Or as the herſeſes that men do leaue,
Are bated moſt of thofe that did deceiue:

So thou, my ſurfeit, and my herſeſe,
Of all be hated; but the moſt of me ;
And all my powers addreſſe your loue and might,
To honour Helen, and to be her Knight.

Exit.

Her, Helpe me Lysander, helpe me; do thy best
To plucke this crawling ſerpent from my breſt.
Aye me, for pitty; what a dreame was here?

Lysander looke, how I do quake with ſeare :
Me-thought a ſerpent eate my heart away,
And yet ſat ſmiling at his cruell prey.

Lysander, what remoou'd? Lysander, Lord,
What, out of hearing, gone? No found, no word?

Alacke where are you? ſpeake and if you heaſe
Speake of all loues; I found almost with ſeare.

No, then I well perceiue you are not nye,
Either death or you Ile finde immediately.

Exit.

Actus Tertius.

Enter the Clownes.

Bot. Are we all met?

Quin. Pat, pat, and here's a maruailous conuenient
place for our rehearſall. This greene plot shall be our
ſtage, this hauthorne brake our tyring houſe, and we will
do it in action, as we will do it before the Duke.

Bot. *Petr quince?*

Peter. What ſaſt thou, bully Bottome?

Bot. There are things in this Comedy of Piramus and
Thisby, that will neuer pleafe. First, Piramus muſt draw a
ſword to kill himſelfe; which the Ladies cannot abide.
How anſwere you that?

Snout. Berlaken, a patlous ſeare.

Star. I beleue we muſt leaue the killing out, when
all is done.

Bot. Not a whit, I haue a deuice to make all well.
Write me a Prologue, and let the Prolog he ſeeme to ſay,
We will do no harme with our ſwords, and that Piramus
is not kill'd indeede: and for the more better affurance,
tell them, that I Piramus am not Piramus, but Bottome the
Weauer; this will put them out of ſeare.

Quin. Well, we will haue ſuch a Prologue, and it shall
be written in eight and ſixe.

Bot. No, make it two more, let it be written in eight
and eight.

Snout. Will not the Ladies be aſſear'd of the Lyon?

Star. I ſeare it, I promife you.

Bot. Maſters, you ought to confider with your ſelues, to
bring in(God ſhield vs)a Lyon among Ladies, is a moſt
dreadfull thing. For there is not a more ſearefull wilde
foule then your Lyon liuing: and wee ought to looke
to it.

Snout. Therefore another Prologue muſt tell he is not
a Lyon.

Bot. Nay, you muſt name his name, and halſe his face
muſt be ſeene through the Lyons necke, and he himſelfe
muſt ſpeake through, ſaying thus, or to the fame defect;
Ladies, or faire Ladies, I would with you, or I would
request

A Midsummer nights Dreame.

152

requeth you, or I would entreat you, not to feare, not to tremble: my life for yours. If you thinke I come hither as a Lyon, it were pity of my life. No, I am no such thing, I am a man as other men are; and there indeed let him name his name, and tell him plainly hee is Snug the ioyner.

Quin. Well, it shall be so; but there is two hard things, that is, to bring the Moone-light into a chamber: for you know, Piramus and Thisby meete by Moone-light.

Sn. Doth the Moone Shine that night wee play our play?

Bot. A Calender, a Calender, looke in the Almanack, finde out Moone-shine, finde out Moone-shine.

Enter Pucke.

Quin. Yes, it doth shine that night.

Bot. Why then may you leue a caement of the great chamber window (where we play) open, and the Moone may shine in at the caement.

Quin. I, or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lanthorne, and say he comes to dib figure, or to present the perfon of Moone-shine. Then there is another thing, we must haue a wall in the great Chamber; for Piramus and Thisby (faies the story) did talke through the chinke of a wall.

Sn. You can neuer bring in a wall. What say you Bottome?

Bot. Some man or other must present wall, and let him haue some Plafter, or some Lome, or some rough cast about him, to fignifie wall; or let him hold his fingers thus; and through that cranny, shall Piramus and Thisby whifper.

Quin. If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit downe every mothers sonne, and rehearse your parts. Piramus, you begin; when you haue spoken your speech, enter into that Brake, and so every one according to his cue.

Enter Robin.

Rob. What hempen home-spuns haue we swaggering here,

So neere the Cradle of the Faerie Queene?

What, a Play toward? Ile be an auditor,

An Actor too perhaps, if I fee cause.

Quin. Speake Piramus: Thisby stand forth.

Pir. Thisby, the flowers of odious fauors sweete.

Quin. Odours, odours.

Pir. Odours fauors sweete,

So hath thy breath, my deare Thisby deare.

But harke, a voyce: fly thou but here a while,

And by and by I will to thee appeare.

Exit, Pir.

Puck. A stranger Piramus, then ere plaid here,

This. Must I speake now?

Pet. I marry muft you. For you muft vnderstand he goes but to fee a noyse that he heard, and is to come againe.

Thys. Most radiant Piramus, most Lilly white of hue,
Of colour like the red rose on triumphant bryer,
Most brisky Iuvenall, and eke most louely Iew,
As true as truest horfe, that yet would neuer tyre,
Ile meete thee Piramus, at Ninnies toombe.

Pet. Ninus toombe man: why, you muft not speake that yet; that you anfiewe to Piramus: you speake all your part at once, cues and all. Piramus enter, your cue is past; it is neuer tyre.

Thys. O, as true as truest horfe, that yet would neuer tyre:

Pir. If I were faire, Thisby I were only thine.

Pet. O monſtrous. O strange. We are banted; pray maſters, flye maſters, helpe.

The Clownes all Exit.

Puk. Ile follow you, Ile leade you about a Round,
Through bogge, through bush, through brake, through
Sometime a horſe Ile be, sometime a hound: (bryer,
A hogge, a headleſſe beare, sometime a fire,
And neigh, and barke, and gunt, and rore, and burne,
Like horſe, hound, hog, beare, fire, at euery turne.
Exit.

Enter Piramus with the Aſſe head.

Bot. Why do they run away? This is a knaury of them to make me afeard.

Enter Snowt.

Sn. O Bottom, thou art chang'd; What doe I fee on thee?

Bot. What do you fee? You fee an Aſſe-head of your owne, do you?

Enter Peter Quince.

Pet. Blesſe thee Bottome, blesſe thee; thou art tranſlaſted.

Bot. I fee their knaury; this is to make an aſſe of me, to fright me if they could; but I will not fire from this place, do what they can. I will walke vp and downe here, and I will ſing that they ſhall heare I am not a-fraid.

The Woofſt cocke, ſo blacke of hew,
With Orenge-tawny bill.

The Throſtle, with his note ſo true,

The Wren and little quill.

Tjta. What Angell wakes me from my flowry bed?

Bot. The Finch, the Sparrow, and the Larke,
The plainſong Cuckow gray;

Whofe note full many a man doth marke,
And dares not anſwere, nay.

For indeede, who would ſet his wit to ſo foolſh a bird?

Who would giue a bird the lye, though he cry Cuckow,
neuer ſo?

Tjta. I pray thee gentle mortall, ſing againe,
Mine eare is much enamored of thy note:

On the fin ſt view to ſay, to ſweare I loue thee.

So is mine eye enthralled to thy ſhape.

And thy faire vertues force (perſorce) doth moue me.

Bot. Me-thinks a miſſeſſe, you should haue little reaſon for that: and yet to ſay the truth, reaſon and loue keepe little company together, now-a-dayes. The more the pittie, that ſome honeſt neighbours will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleeke vpon occaſion.

Tjta. Thou art as wife, as thou art beautiſull.

Bot. Not ſo neither: but if I had wit enough to get
out of this wood, I haue enough to ſerve mine owne
turne.

Tjta. Out of this wood, do not defire to goe,
Thou ſhalt remaine here, whether thou wilt or no.
I am a ſpirit of no common rate:

The Summer ſtill doth tend vpon my ſlate,
And I doe loue thee; therefore goe with me,
Ile giue thee Fairies to attend on thee;
And they shall fetch thee Iewels from the deepe;
And ſing, while thou on preſſed flowers doſt ſleep;
And I will purge thy mortall groſſen ſeſse,
That thou ſhalt like an airie ſpirit go.

Enter Pease-bloſſome, Cabweb, Moth, Muſtard- feede, and ſoure Fairies.

Fai. Ready; and I, and I, and I, Where shall we go?

Tita. Be

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154

If for his tender here I make some flay. Lie dawne.

Ob. What haft thou done? Thou haft miftaken quite
And laid the loue iuyce on fome true loues fight:
Of thy mifprifion, muft perforce enfue
Some true loue turn'd, and not a falfe turn'd true.

Rob. Then fate ore-rules, that one man holding troth,
A million faile, confounding oath on oath.

Ob. About the wood, goe swifter then the winde,
And Helena of Athens looke thou finde.

All fancy ficke ſhe is, and pale of cheere,
With fighes of loue, that coſts the fresh bloud deare.
By ſome illuſion ſee thou bring her heere,
Ile charme his eyes againſt ſhe doth appeare.

Robin. I go, I go, looke how I goe,
Swifter then arrow from the Tartars bowe.

Exit.

Ob. Flower of this purple die,

Hit with Cupids archery,
Sinke in apple of his eye,
When his loue he doth ſcpie,
Let her ſhine as gloriously
As the Venns of the sky.

When thou wak'st if ſhe be by,
Beg of her for remedy.

### Enter Pucke.

Puck. Captaine of our Fairy band,
Helena is heere at hand,

And the youth, miftooke by me,
Pleading for a Louers fee.

Shall we their fond Pageant fee?

Lord, what fooles theſe mortals be!

Ob. Stand aſide: the noyie they make,
Will cauſe Demetrius to awake.

Puck. Then will two at once wooe one,
That muſt needs be ſport alone:
And thofe things doe beſt pleafe me,
That befall prepoſterouſly.

### Enter Lysander and Helena.

Lyſ. Why ſhould you think I should wooe in ſcorn?
Scorne and derifion neuer comes in teares:
Looke when I vow I weepe; and vowes ſo borne,
In their nativity all truth appears.

How can theſe things in me, ſeeme ſcorne to you?
Bearing the badge of faith to proue them true.

Hel. You doe aduance your cunning more & more,
When truth kilſs truth, O diuelfiſh holy tray !
Theselowes are Hermias. Will you giue her ore?

Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh.

Your vowes to her, and me, (put in two ſcales)
Will euen weigh, and both as lightas tales.

Lyſ. I had no iudgement, when to her I ſwore.

Hel. Nor none in my minde, now you giue her ore.

Lyſ. Demetrius loues her, and he loues not you. Ama.

Dem. O Helen, goddeſſe, nimph, perfect, diuine,

To what my loue, ſhall I compare thine eyne!

Chriftall is muddy, O how ripe in ſhow,
Thy lips, that killing cherries, tempting grow!

That pure congealed white, high Taurus ſnow,
Fan'd with the Eafterne winde, turnes to a crow,
When thou holdſt vp thy hand. O let me kiſſe
This Princesſe of pure white, this ſeaſe of bliffe.

Hell. O ſpight! O hell! I ſee you are all bent
To fet againſt me, for your metriment :
If you were ciuill, and knew curſeſſe :
You would not doe me thus much iniury.

Can you not hate me, as I know you doe,
But you muſt ioyne in ſoules to mocke me to?
If you are men, as men you are in ſhow,
You would not vſe a gentle Lady ſo?

To vow, and ſware, and ſuperpraſe my parts,
When I am ſure you hate me with your hearts.
You both are Riuals, and loue Hermia;
And now both Riuals to mocke Helena.

A trim exploit, a manly enterprize,
To coniure teares vp in a poore maids eyes,
With your derifion; none of noble ſort,
Would ſo offend a Virgin, and extort

A poore ſoules patience, all to make you ſport.

Lyſa. You are vnkind Demetrius; be not ſo,
For you loue Hermia; this you know I know;
And here with all good will, with all my heart,
In Hermias loue I yeeld you vp my part;
And yours of Helena, to me bequeath,
Whom I do loue, and will do to my death.

Hel. Neuer did mockers waſt more idle breath.

Dem. Lysander, keep thy Hermia, I will none:

Lyſ. It is not ſo.
De Disparage not the faith thou doſt not know,
Left to thy perill thou abide it deare.

Looke where thy Loue comes, yonder is thy deare.

### Enter Hermia.

Her. Dark night, that from the eye his ſunction takes,
The eare more quicke of apprehension makes,
Wherein it doth impaire the ſeeing ſenſe,
Ir paies the hearing double recompence.

Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander found,
Mine eare (I thanke it) brought me to that found.

But why vnkindly didſt thou leaue me ſo? (to go)

Two

A Midsummer Nights Dreame.

155

Two louely berries molded on one item,
So with two feeming bodies, but one heart,
Two of the firſt life coats in Heraldry,
Due but to one and crowned with one crest,
And will you rent our ancient loue aſunder,
To ioyne with men in ſcorning your poore friend?
It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly.
Our ſexe as well as I, may chide you for it,
Though I alone doe feele the injury.

Her. I am amazed at your ſaffionate words,
I ſcorne you not; I ſeemes that you ſcorne me.

Hel. Haue you not ſet Lyſander, as in ſcorne
To follow me, and praeſe my ies and face?

And made your other loue, *Demetrius*
(Who euen but now did ſpurne me with his foote)
To call me goddeſſe, nimbh, diuine, and rare,
Precious, celeſtall? Wherefore ſpeakes he this
To her he hates? And wherefore doth Lyſander
Denie your loue (for rich within his ſoule)
And tender me (for ſooth) affection,

But by your ſetting on, by your conſent?
What though I be not ſo in grace as you,
So hung upon with loue, to ſon fortunate?
(But miſerable moſt, to loue vnlou'd?

This you should pittie, rather then despife.
I vnderſtand not what you meane by this.

Hel. I, doe, perſever, counterfeit ſad looks,
Make mouthes upon me when I turne my backe,
Winke each at other, hold the ſweete ieſt vp :
This ſport well carried, ſhall be chronicled.

If you haue any pittie, grace, or manners,
You would not make me ſuch an argument :
But fare ye well, 'tis partly mine owne fault,
Which death or absence ſoone ſhall remedie.

Lyſ. Stay gentſt Helena, heare my excuse,
My loue, my life, my ſoule, ſaue Helena.

Hel. O excellent !

Her. ſweete, do not ſcorne her ſo.

Dem. If ſhe cannot entreate, I can compell.

Lyſ. Thou canſt compell, no more then ſhe entreate.
Thy threats haue no more ſtrength then her weak praeſe.

Helena, I loue thee, by my life I doe;

I ſware by that which I will loſe for thee,

To proue him falſe, that faies I loue thee not.

Dem. I ſay, I loue thee more then he can do.

Lyſ. If thou ſay ſo, with-draw and proue it too.

Dem. Quick, come.

Her. Lyſander, whereto tends all this?

Lyſ. Away, you *Ethiope*.

Dem. No, no, Sir, ſeeeme to breake loose;

Take on as you would follow,

But yet come not: you are a tame man, go.

Lyſ. Hang off thou cat, thou burſive thing let loose,
Or I will ſhake thee from me like a serpent.

Her. Why are you growne ſo rude?

What change is this ſweete Loue?

Lyſ. Thy loue? out tawny *Tartar*, out;

Out loathed medicine; O hated poſson hence.

Her. Do you not ieſt?

Hel. Yes ſooth, and ſo do you.

Lyſ. *Demetrius*: I will keepe my word with thee.

Dem. I would I had your bond: for I perſeuie

A weake bond holds you; I lea not truſt your word.

Lyſ. What, should I hurt her, ſtrike her, kill her dead?
Although I hate her, I le not harme her ſo.

Her. What, can you do me greater harme then hate?

Hate me, wherefore? O me, what neſes my Loue?
Am not I *Hermia*? Are not you *Lyſander*?

I am as faire now, as I was ere while.

Since night you lou'd me; yet ſince night you left me.

Why then you left me (O the gods forbid)

In earneſt, ſhall I ſay?

Lyſ. I, by my life;

And neuer did deſire to fee thee more.

Therefore be out of hope, of queſtion, of doubt;

Be certaine, nothing truer: 'tis no ieſt,

That I hate thee, and loue *Helena*.

Her. O me, you iugler, you canker bloſſome,
You theſe of loue; What, haue you come by night,
And ſolne my loues heart from him?

Hel. Fine yſaith:

Haue you no modeſty, no maiden ſhame,

No touch of bafthfulneſſe? What, will you teare

Impatient anſwers from my gentle tongue?

Fie, ſie, you counterfeit, you puppet, you.

Her. Puppet? why ſo? I, that way goes the game.

Now I perſeuie that ſhe hath made compare

Betweene our ſtatures, ſhe hath vrg'd her height,

And with her perſonage, her tall perſonage,

Her height (for ſooth) ſhe hath preuail'd with him.

And are you growne ſo high in his ſeſeeme,

Becaufe I am ſo dwarſiſh, and ſo low?

How low am I, thou painted May-pole? Speake,

How low am I? I am not yet ſo low,

But that my nailes can reach vnto thine eyes.

Hel. I pray you though you mocke me, gentlemen,
Let her not hurt me; I was neuer curſt:

Ihaue no gift at all in ſhrewiſhneſſe;

I am a right maide for my cowardize;

Let her not ſtrike me: you perhaps may thinke,

Becaufe ſhe is ſomething lower then my ſelfe,

That I can match her.

Her. Lower? harke againe.

Hel. Good *Hermia*, do not be ſo bitter with me,

I euermore did loue you *Hermia*,

Did euer keepe your counſels, neuer wronged you,

Sau that in loue vnto *Demetrius*,

I told him of your ſtealth vnto this wood.

He followed you, for loue I followed him,

But he hath chid me hence, and threatened me

To ſtrike me, ſpurne me, nay to kill me too;

And now, ſo you will let me quiet go,

To *Athenes* will I beare my folly backe,

And follow you no further. Let me go.

You ſee how ſimple, and how fond I am.

Her. Why get you gone: who iſt that hinders you?

Hel. A foolish heart, that I leaue here behinde.

Her. What, with *Lyſander*?

Her. With *Demetrius*.

Lyſ. Be not afraid, ſhe shall not harme thee *Helena*.

Dem. No fir, ſhe shall not, though you take her part.

Hel. O when ſhe's angry, ſhe is keene and ſhrewd,

She was a viſen when ſhe went to ſchoole,

And though ſhe be but little, ſhe is ſterce.

Her. Little againe? Nothing but low and little?

Why will you ſuffer her to flout me thus?

Let me come to her.

Lyſ. Get you gone you dwarfre,

You *minimus*, of hindring knot-graſſe made,

You bead, you acorne.

Dem. You are too officious,

In her behalſe that ſcorneſ your ſeruices.

Let

A Midsummer nights Dreame.

156

Let her alone, speake not of Helena,
Take not her part. For if thou doft intend
Neuer so little shew of loue to her,
Thou shalt abide it.

Lyf. Now she holds me not,
Now follow if thou dar'ft, to try whose right,
Of thine or mine is moft in Helena.

Dem. Follow ? Nay, Ile goe with thee cheeske by
iowle.

Exit Lysander and Demetrius.

Her. You Miftris, all this coyle is long of you.
Nay, goe not backe.

Hel. I will not truſt you I,
Nor longer ſlay in your curſt companie.
Your hands then mine, are quicker for a fray,
My legs are longer though to runne away.

Enter Oberon and Pucke.

Ob. This is thy negligence, ſtill thou miſtak'ſt,
Or eſſe committ'ſt thy knaueries willingly.

Puck. Bel eeue me, King of this hadowes, I miſtooke,
Did not you tell me, I ſhould know the man,
By the *Athenian* garments he hath on ?

And ſo farre blameleſſe proues my enterpize,
That I haue nointed an *Athenians* eies,
And ſo farre am I glad, it ſo did ſort,

As this their iangling I eſteme a sport.

Ob. Thou ſeeſt theſe Louers ſeeke a place to fight,
Hie therefore Robin, ouercaſt the night,
The ſtarrie Welkin couer thou anon,

With drooping fogge as blacke as *Acheron*,
And lead thele telfe Rials ſo altray,

As one come not within anothers way.

Like to *Lysander*, ſometime frame thy tongue,
Then ſtirre *Demetrius* vp with bitter wrongs;

And ſometime raile thou like *Demetrius*,

And from each other looke thou leades them thus,
Till ore their browes, death-counterfeiting, ſleepe
With leaden legs, and Battie-wings doth reepe;

Then cruſh this hearbe into *Lysander's* eie,

Whose liquor hath this vertuous propertie,

To take from thence all error, with his might,

And make his eie-bals role with wanted fight.

When they next wake, all this derition

Shall ſeeme a dreame, and ſtrumente vifion,

And backe to *Athens* shall the Louers wend,

With league, whose date till death shall neuer end.

Whiles I in this affaire do theſe imply,

Ile to my Queene, and beg her *Indian* Boy;

And then I will her charmed eie teeleafe

From monſters view, and all things ſhall be peace.

Puck. My Fairie Lord, this muſt be done with haſte,
For night-lifwift Dragons cut the Clouds full ſaſt,
And yonder ſhines *Auroras* harbinger;

At whose approach Ghouſts wandring here and there,
Troop home to Church-yards; damned ſpirits all,
That in croſſe-waies and flouds haue buriall,

Alreadie to their wormie beds are gone;

For ſeare leaſt day should looke their ſhames vpon,
They wilfully them ſelues dixle from light.

And muſt for aye ſonſort with blacke browd night.

Ob. But we are ſpirits of another ſort :

I, with the mornings lone, haue oft made ſport,

And like a Forreſter, the groues may tread,

Even till the Eafterne gate alſt fierie red,

Opening on *Neptune*, with faire bleſſed beames,

Turnes into yellow gold, his ſalt, greene ſtreames.

But notwithſtanding haſte, make no delay.

We may effect this buſineſſe, yet ere day.

Puck. Vp and downe, vp and downe, I will lead
them vp and downe : I am ſear'd in field and towne.
Goblin, lead them vp and downe : here comes one.

Enter Lysander.

Lyf. Where art thou, proud *Demetrius*?

Speake thou now.

Rob. Here villaine, drawne & readie. Where art thou?

Lyf. I will be with thee ſtraight.

Rob. Follow me then to plainer ground.

Enter Demetrius.

Dem. Lysander, speake againe;

Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled?

Speake in ſome buſh: Where doſt thou hide thy head?

Rob. Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars,
Telling the buſhes that thou look'ſt for wars,
And wilt not come ? Come recreant, come thou childe,
Ile whip thee with a rod. He is deſil'd

That drawes a ſword on thee.

Dem. Yea, art thou there ?

Ro. Follow my voice, we'll try no manhood here. Exit.

Lyf. He goes before me, and filll dares me on,

When I come where he cals, then he's gone.

The villaine is much lighter heel'd then I :

I followed ſaſt, but after he did ſlye ;

Slighting plateſ.

That fallen am i in darke vneuen way,

And here will reſt me. Come thou gentle day : lye down.

For if but once thou ſhew me thy gray light,

Ile finde *Demetrius*, and reueng this ſight.

Enter Robin and Demetrius.

Rob. Ho, ho, ho; coward, why corn'ſt thou not?

Dem. Abide me, if thou dar'ſt. For well I wot,

Thou runſt before me, shifting euery place,

And dar'ſt not stand, nor looke me in the face.

Where art thou ?

Rob. Come hither, I am here.

Dem. Nay then thou mock it me; thou ſhalt buy this
deere,

If euer I thy face by day-light ſee.

Now goe thy way : faintneſſe constraineth me,

To meaſure out my length on this cold bed,

By daies approach looke to be viſited.

Enter Helena.

Hel. O weary night, O long and tedious night,
Abate thy houres, ſhine comforts from the Eaſt,
That I may backe to *Athens* by day-light,

From theſe that my poore companie deteft;

And ſleepe that ſometime ſhuts vp ſorrowes eie,

Steale me a while from mine owne companie.

Slept.

Rob. Yet but three ? Come one more,

Two of both kindes makes vp ſoure.

Here ſhe comes, curſt and ſad,

Cupid is a knauiſh lad,

Enter Hermia.

Thus to make poore females mad,

Her. Neuer so wearie, neuer so woe,

Bedabbled with the dew, and torne with briars,
I can no further crawl, no further goe ;

My legs can keepe no pace with my desires.

Here will I reſt me till the breake of day,

Heauens ſhield *Lysander*, if they meane a ſray.

Rob. On the ground ſleepe found,

Ile apply your eie gentle louer, remedy;

When thou wak'ſt, thou tak'ſt

True delight in the fight of thy former Ladies eye,

And

A Midsummer nights Dreame.

157

And the Country Prouerb knowne,
That euery man should take his owne,
In your waking shall be showne:
Jacke shall haue ill, nought shall goe ill,
The man shall haue his Mare againe, and all shall bee
well wing.
They sleepe all the Act.

Atus Quartus.

Enter Queene of Fairies, and Clowne, and Fairier, and the King behinds them.

Tita. Come, fit thee downe vpon this flowry bed,
While I thy amiable cheekes doe coy,
And flicke muske roes in thy fleekie smoothie head,
And kiffe thy faire large eares, my gentle ioy.

Clow. Where's Peafe-bloffome?

Peaf. Ready.

Clow. Scratch my head, Peafe-bloffome. Wher's Mounfieuer Cobweb.

Cob. Ready.

Clowne. Mounfieur Cobweb, good Mounfier get your weapons in your hand, & kill me a red hipt humble-bee, on the top of a thistle ; and good Mounfieur bring mee the hony bag. Doe not fret your selfe too much in the action, Mounfieur; and good Mounfieur have a care the hony bag breaken not, I would be loth to haue you ouerflowne with a hony-bag ligniour. Where's Mounfieur Mustardfeed ?

Muf. Ready.

Clo. Giue me your neafe, Mounfieur Mustardfeed,
Pray you leaue your courteous good Mounfieur.

Muf. What's your will?

Clo. Nothing good Mounfieur, but to help Caualery
Cobweb to scratch. I muft to the Barbers Mounfieur, for
me-thinkes I am maruelous hairy about the face. And I
am such a tender affe, if my haire do but tickle me, I muft
scratch.

Tita. What, wilt thou heare some muſſicke, my sweete loue.

Clow. I haue a reasonable good eare in muſſicke. Let vs haue the tongs and the bones.

Muſſicke Tonges, Rurall Muſſicke.

Tita. Or lay sweete Loue, what thou desirest to eat.

Clowne. Truly a pecke of Prouender ; I could munch
your good dry Oates. Me-thinkes I haue a great defire
to a bottle of hay : good hay, sweete hay hath no fol-
low.

Tita. I haue a venturous Fairy,
That shall feeke the Squirrels hoard,
And fetch thee new Nuts.

Clown. I had rather haue a handfull or two of dried peafe. But I pray you let none of your people firre me, I haue an exposition of sleepe come vpon me.

Tita. Sleepe thou, and I will winde thee in my arms,
Fairies be gone, and be alwaies away.
So doth the woodbine, the sweet Honifuckle,
Gently entwist; the female Iuy fo
Enrings the barky fingers of the Elme.

O how I loue thee ! how I dote on thee !

Enter Robin goodfellow and Oberon.

Ob. Welcome good Robin :

Seef thou this sweet fight?

Her dotage now I doe begin to pitty.

For meeting her of late behinde the wood,
Seeking aweet fauors for this hatefull foole,
I did vpbraide her, and fall out with her.

For she his hairy temples then had rounded,
With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers.

And that fame dew which fomtime on the buds,
Was wont to fwell like found and orient pearles;

Stood now within the pretty flouriets eyes,

Like teares that did their owne disgrace bewaile.

When I had at my pleafure taunted her,

And she in milde termes beg'd my patience,
I then did aske of her, her changeling childe,
Which straight she gave me, and her Fairy lent
To beare him to my Bower in Fairy Land.

And now I haue the Boy, I will vndoe

This hatefull imperfection of her eyes.

And gentle Pucke, take this transformed ſcalpe,
From off the head of this Athenian ſwaine ;

That he awaking when the other doe,

May all to Athens backe againe repaire,

And thinke no more of this nights accidents,

But as the fierce vexation of a dreame.

But first I will releafe the Fairy Queene.

Be thou as thou waſt want to be ;

See as thou waſt want to see.

Dians bud, or Cupids flower,

Hath such force and blessed power.

Now my Titania wake you my aweet Queene.

Tita. My Oberon, what vifions haue I ſeene!

Me-thought I was enamoured of an Affe,

Ob. There lies your loue.

Tita. How came theſe things to paffe ?

Oh, how mine eyes doth loath this viſage now !

Ob. Silence a while. Robin take off his head :

Titania muſſick call, and ſtrike more dead

Then common sleepe; of all theſe, fine the ſense.

Tita. Muſſicke, he muſſicke, such as charmeth sleepe.

Muſſick ſtill.

Rob. When thou wak'st, with thine owne fooles eles
peepe. (me

Ob. Sound muſſick; come my Queen, take hands with
And rocke the ground whereon theſe sleepeſt be.

Now thou and I are new in amity,

And will to morrow midnight, Solemnly

Dance in Duke Theſens houſe triumphantly,

And bleſſe it to all faire poſterity.

There shall the paires of faithfull Louers be

Wedded, with Theſens, all in iollity.

Rob. Faire King attend, and marke,

I doe heare the morning Larke.

Ob. Then my Queene in ſilence ſad,
Trip we after the nights ſhade ;

We the Globe can compaſſe ſoone,

Swifter then the wandring Moone.

Tita. Come my Lord, and in our flight,

Tell me how it came this night,

That I sleeping heere was found,

Sleepers Lye ſtill.

O

With

158

A Midsummerernights Dreame.

With these mortals on the ground.

Exeunt.
Unde Hornes.

Enter Theusens, Egeus, Hippolita and all his traine.

Theſ. Go one of you, finde out the Forrefter.

For now our obſeruation is perform'd;

And since we haue the vaward of the day,

My Loue fhall heare the muſicke of my hounds.

Vncouple in the Weſterne valley, let them goe

Dispatch I lay, and finde the Forrefter.

We will faire Queene, vp to the Mountaines top.

And marke the muſicall conſion

Of hounds and echo in conjunction.

Hip. I was with Hercules and Cadmus once,

When in a wood of Creete they bayed the Beare

With hounds of Sparta; neuer did I heare

Such gallant chiding. For beſides the groues,

The skies, the ſountaines, euery region neere,

Seeme all one mutuall cry. I neuer heard

So muſicall a diſcord, ſuch a ſweet thunder.

Theſ. My hounds are bred out of the ſpartan kinde,

So flew'd, so ſanded, and their heads are hung

With eares that ſweepe away the morning dew,

Crooke kneed, and dew-lapt, like Theſſalian Buls,

Slow in purſuit, but match'd in mouth like bels,

Each vnder each. A cry more tunable

Was neuer hallowed to, nor cheere'd with horne,

In Creete, in Sparta, nor in Theſſaly;

Iudge when you heare. But ſoft, what nimphs are theſe?

Egeus. My Lord, this is my daughter heere aſſeeppe,

And this Lyſander, this Demetrius is,

This Helena, olde Nedars Helena,

I wonder of this being heere together.

The. No doubt they roſe vp early, to obſerue

The right of May ; and hearing our intent,

Came heere in grace of our ſolemnity.

But ſpeake Egeus, is not this the day

That Hermaſa should giue anſwer of her choice?

Egeus. It is, my Lord.

Theſ. Goe bid the hunte-men wake them with their
hornes.

Hornes and they wake.

Shout within, they all start vp.

Theſ. Good morrow friends: Saint Valentine is paſſ,
Begin theſe wood birds but to couple now?

Lyſ. Pardon my Lord.

Theſ. I pray you all stand vp.

I know you two are Riuall enemies.

How comes this gentle concord in the world,

That hatred is to ſare from icalouſe,

To ſleepe by hate, and feare no enmity.

Lyſ. My Lord, I ſhall reply amazedly,

Halſe ſleepe, halſe waking. But as yet, I ſweare,

I cannot truly ſay how I came heere.

But as I thinke (for truly would I ſpeake)

And now I doe bethinke me, ſo it is;

I came with Hermaſa hither. Our intent

Was to be gone from Athens, where we might be
Without the perill of the Athenian Law.

Ege. Enough, enough, my Lord: you haue enough;

I beg the Law, the Law, upon his head:

They would haue ſtolne away, they would Demetrius,

Thereby to haue defeated you and me:

You of your wife, and me of my conſent;

Of my conſent, that he ſhould be your wife.

Dem. My Lord, faire Helen told me of their ſtealth,
Of this their purpose hither, to this wood,

And I in furie hither followed them;

Faire Helena, in ſancy followed me.

But my good Lord, I wot not by what power.

(But by ſome power it is) my loue

To Hermaſa (melted as the snow)

Seems to me now as the remembrance of an idle gaudy,
Which in my childhood I did doat upon:

And all the faith, the vertue of my heart,

The obieſt and the pleaſure of mine eye,

Is onely Helena. To her, my Lord,

Was I betroth'd, ere I ſee Hermaſa,

But like a ſickeneſſe did I loath this food,

But as in health, come to my naturall taſte,

Now doe I wifh it, loue it, long for it,

And will for euermore be true to it.

Theſ. Faire Louers, you are fortunately met;

Of this diſcourſe we ſhall heare more anon.

Egeus. I will ouer-beare your will;

For in the Temple, by and by with vs,

These couples ſhall eternally be knit.

And for the morning now is ſomething worne,

Our purpoſt hunting ſhall be ſet aside.

Away, with vs to Athens; three and three,

We'll hold a feast in great ſolemnity.

Come Hippolita.

Exit Duke and Lard.
Dem. Theſe things ſeeme ſmall & vndiftinguſable,

Like farre off mountaines turned into Clouds,

Her. Me-thinks I fee theſe things with parted eye,

When euery thing ſeemes double.

Hel. So me-thinks:

And I haue found Demetrius, like a iewell,

Mine owne, and not mine owne.

Dem. It ſeemes to mee,

That yet we ſleepe, we dreame. Do not you thinke,

The Duke was heere, and bid vs follow him?

Her. Yea, and my Father.

Hel. And Hippolita.

Lyſ. And he bid vs follow to the Temple.

Dem. Why then we are awake; lets follow him, and
by the way let vs recount our dreames.

Bottome wakes.

Exit Louers.

Clo. When my cue comes, call me, and I will anſwer,
My next is, moſt faire Firemous. Hey ho. Peter Quince,
Flute the bellowes-mender? Snout the tinker? Starveling?
Gods my life! Stolne hence, and left me aſſeeppe: I
haue had a moſt rare viſion. I had a dreame, paſſ the wit
of man, to ſay, what dreame it was. Man is but an Aſſe,
if he goe about to expound this dreame. Me-thought I
was, there is no man can tell what. Me-thought I was,
and me-thought I had. But man is but a patch'd ſtole,
if he will offer to ſay, what me-thought I had. The eye of
man hath not heard, the care of man hath not ſeen, man's
hand is not able to taſte, his tongue to conceiue, nor his
heart to report, what my dreame was. I will get Peter
Quince to write a ballet of this dreame, it ſhall be called
Bottomes Dreame, becauſe it hath no bottome; and I will
ſing it in the latter end of a play, before the Duke. Per-
adventure, to make it the more gracious, I ſhall ſing it
at her death.

Exit.

Enter Quince, Fluse, Thisbie, Snout, and Starveling.

Quin. Haue you ſent to Bottomes house? Is he come
home yet?

Star. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt hee is
transported.

Thiſ. If

A Midsummer nights Dreame.

159

This. If he come not, then the play is mar'd. It goes not forward, doth it?

Quin. It is not possible: you haue not a man in all Athens, able to discharge Piramus but he.

This. No, hee hath simply the best wit of any handy-craft man in Athens.

Quin. Yea, and the best person too, and hee is a very Paramour, for a sweet voyce.

This. You must fay, Paragon. A Paramour is (God bleſſe vs) a thing of nought.

Enter Snug the Ieyner.

Snug. Masters, the Duke is comming from the Temple, and there is two or three Lords & Ladies more married. If our sport had gone forward, we had all bin made men.

This. O sweet bully Bottome: thus hath he loft fixepence a day, during his life; he could not haue escaped fixepence a day. And the Duke had not giuen him fixepence a day for playing Piramus, hee be hang'd. He would haue deferu'd it. Sixpence a day in Piramus, or nothing.

Enter Bottome.

Bot. Where are thefe Lads? Where are theſe hearts?

Quin. Bottome, ò moſt couragious day! O moſt hap-pie houre!

Bot. Masters, I am to discourse wonders; but ask me not what. For if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. I will tell you euery thing as it fell out.

Ly. Let vs heare, (sweet Bottome.)

Bot. Not a word of me: all that I will tell you, is, that the Duke hath dined. Get your apparell together, good ftrings to your beards, new ribbands to your pumps, meete presently at the Palace, euery man looke ore his part: for the short and the long is, our play is preferred: In any case let Thisby haue cleane linnen: and let not him that playes the Lion, paire his nailes, for they shall hang out for the Lions clawes. And moſt deare Aors, eate no Onions, nor Garlicke; for wee are to vtter (sweete breath, and I do not doubt) but to heare them fay, it is a sweet Comedy. No more words: away, go away.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus.

Enter Theſens, Hippolita, Egeus and his Lords.

Hip. 'Tis ſtrange my Theſens, y these louers ſpeake of. The. More ſtrange then true. I neuer may believe Theſe anticke fables, nor theſe Fairy toyes, Louers and mad men haue ſuch feething braines, Such shaping phantases, that apprehend more Then coole reaſon euer comprehends.

The Lunaticke, the Louer, and the Poet, Are of imagination all compact.

One ſees more diuels then vafe hell can hold: That is the mad man. The Louer, all as franticke, Sees Helens beauty in a brow of Egypt.

The Poets eye in a fine frenzy rolling, doth glance From heauen to earth, from earth to heauen. And as imagination bodies forth the forms of things Vnknowne; the Poets pen turnes them to ſhapes, And giues to aire nothing, a local habitation.

And a name. Such tricks hath ſtrong imagination,

That if it would but apprehend ſome ioy, It comprehends ſome bringer of that ioy. Or in the night, imagining ſome ſeare, How eafe is a bush suppos'd a Beare?

Hip. But all the ſtorie of the night told ouer, And all their minds transfigur'd to together. More witneſſeth than fancies images, And growes to ſomething of great conſtancie; But how ſoſeuer, ſtrange, and admirable.

Enter louers, Lysander, Demetrius, Hernia, and Helena.

The. Here come the louers, full of ioy and mirth: Ioy, gentle friends, ioy and fresh dayes Of loue accompany your hearts.

Lyf. More then to vs, waite in your roylall walkes, your board, your bed.

The. Come now, what maskes, what dances shall we haue,

To weare away this long age of three hours, Between our after ſupper, and bed-time?

Where is our vſuall manager of mirth?

What Reuels are in hand? Is there no play,

To eafe the anguifh of a torturing houre?

Call Egeus.

Ege. Heere mighty Theſens.

The. Say, what abridgement haue you for this eue-
ning?

What maske? What muſicke? How shall we beguile The lazie time, if not with ſome delight?

Ege. There is a breeſe how many ſports are rife: Make choife of which your Highneſſe will fee firſt.

Lyf. The battell with the Centaurs to be ſung By an Athenian Eunuch, to the Harpe.

The. Wee'ne none of that. That haue I told my Loue In glory of my kinsman Hercules.

Lyf. The riot of the ſupſie Bachanal, Tearing the Thracian ſinger, in their rage?

The. That is an old device, and it was plaid When I from Thebes came laſt a Conqueror.

Lyf. The thrice three Mufes, mourning for the death of learning, late decaſt in beggerie.

The. That is ſome Satire keene and criticall, Not forting with a nuptiall ceremonie.

Lyf. A tedious breeſe Scene of yong Piramus, And his loue Thisby; very tragicall mirth.

The. Merry and tragicall? Tedious, and briefe? That is, hot ice, and wondrous ſtrange ſnow. How ſhall we finde the concord of this diſcord?

Ege. A play there is, my Lord, ſome ten words long, Which is as breeſe, as I haue knowne a play; But by ten words, my Lord, it is too long; Which makes it tedious. For in all the play, There is not one word apt, one Player ſotted.

And tragicall my noble Lord it is: for Piramus Therein doth kill himſelfe. Which when I saw Rehearſt, I muſt confefſe, made mine eyes water: But more merrie teares, the passion of loud laughter Neuer ſhed.

Theſ. What are they that do play it?

Ege. Hard handed men, that worke in Athens heere, Which neuer labour'd in their mindeſt till now; And now haue toyled their vnbreathed memories With this ſame play, against your nuptiall.

The. And we will heare it.

O a

Phil.

A Midsummer nights Dreame.

160

Thi. No, my noble Lord, it is not for you. I haue heard
It ouer, and it is nothing, nothing in the world;
Vnlelle you can finde sport in their intents,
Extremely fretcht, and cond with cruell paine,
To doe you feruice.

Theſ. I will heare that play. For neuer any thing
Can be amiffe, when simplenefle and duty tender it.
Goe bring them in, and take your places, Ladies.

Hip. I llove not to see wretchedneſſe orecharged;
And duty in his ſeruice perſiling.

Theſ. Why gentle ſweet, you ſhall see no ſuch thing.

Hip. He faies, they can doe nothing in this kinde.

Theſ. The kinder we, to giue them thanks for nothing
Our ſport ſhall be, to take what they miftake;
And what poore duty cannot doe, noble reſpect
Takes it in might, not merit.

Where I haue come, great Clearkes haue purpofed
To greete me with premeditated welcomes;
Where I haue feene them ſhuier and looke pale,
Make periods in the midſt of ſentences,
Throttle their prætiz'd accent in their ſeares,
And in conclusion, dumbly haue broke off,
Not paying me a welcome. Truſt me ſweete,
Out of this ſilence yet, Iptick a welcome :
And in the modeſty of ſarefull duty,
I read as much, as from the ratling tongue
Of ſaucy and audacious eloquence.
Loue therefore, and tongue-tide ſimplicity,
In leaſt, Iſpeake moſt, to my capacity.

Egeus. So pleate your Grace, the Prologue is addreſſ.
Duke. Let him approach.

Flor. Trum.

Enter the Prologue.

Quince.

Pro. If we offend, it is with our good will.
That you ſhould thinke, we come not to offend,
But with good will. To ſhow our ſimple skill,
That is the true beginning of our end,
Confider then, we come but in deſpight.
We do not come, as minding to content you,
Our true intent is. All for your delight,
We are not heere. That you ſhould here repent you,
The Actors are at hand; and by their ſhow,
You ſhall know all, that you are like to know.

Theſ. This fellow doth not stand vpon points.

Lyf. He hath rid his Prologue, like a rough Colt: he
knowes not the ſtop. A good morall my Lord. It is not
enough to ſpeake, but to ſpeake true.

Hip. Indeed hee hath plaid on his Prologue, like a
childe on a Recorder, a found, but not in government.

Theſ. His ſpeech was like a tangled chaine: nothing
impaired, but all disordered. Who is next?

Tawyer with a Trumpet before them.

Enter Pyramus and Thisby, Wall, Moone ſhine, and Lyon.

Prol. Gentles, perchance you wonder at this ſhow,
But wonder on, till truth make all things plaine.
This man is Piramus, if you would know;
This beauteous Lady, Thisby is certaine.
This man, with lyme and rough-caſt, doth preſent
Wall, that vile wall, which did theſe louers ſunder :
And through walls chink (poor ſoules) they are content
To whiſper. At the which, let no man wonder.
This man, with Lanthorne, dog, and buſh of thorne,
Prefenteth moone-ſhine. For if you will know,
By moone-ſhine did theſe louers thinke no ſcorne.
To meet at Ninus toombe, there, there to wooe:

This grizy beaſt (which Lyon hight by name)
The truſty Thisby, comming firſt by night,
Did ſcarre away, or rather did affright:
And as he ſled, her mantle ſhe did fall;
Which Lyon vile with bloody mouth did ſtaine.
Anon comes Piramus, ſweet youth and tall,
And findes his Thubies Mantle ſtaine;
Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameſull blade,
He brauely broacht his boiling bloudy breaſt,
And Thisby, tarrying in Mulberry ſhade,
His dagger drew, and died. For all the reſt,
Let Lyon, Moone-ſhine, Wall, and Louers twaine,
At large diſcourselike, while here they doe remaine.

Exit all but Wall.

Theſ. I wonder if the Lion be to ſpeake.

Deme. No wonder, my Lord: one Lion may, when
many Aſſes do.

Exit Lyon, Thisbie, and Mooneſhine.

Wall. In this fame Interlude, it doth befall,
That I, one Snout (by name) preſent a wall:
And ſuch a wall, as I vould haue you thinke,
That had in it a crannied hole or chinke:
Through which the Louers, Piramus and Thisbie
Did whiſper often, very ſecreſt.
This loame, this rough-caſt, and this ſtone doth ſhow,
That I am that fame Wall; the truth is ſo.
And this the cranny is, right and ſinifter,
Through which the ſcarefull Louers are to whiſper.

Theſ. Would you defire Lime and Haire to ſpeake better?

Deme. It is the vvittieſt partition, that euer I heard diſcourselike, my Lord.

Theſ. Pyramus draws neere the Wall, ſilence.

Enter Pyramus.

Pir. O grim lookt night, ô night with hue so blacke,
O night, which euer art, when day is not:
O night, ô night, alacke, alacke, alacke,
I ſeare my Thisbies promife is forgot.
And thou ô vvall, thou ſweet and louely vvall,
That flands betweene her farthers ground and mine,
Thou vvall, ô vvall, ô sweet and louely vvall,
Shew me thy chinke, to blinke through vvith mine eine,
Thankes courteous vvall. Ioue, shield thee vvell for this.
But vvhat fee I? No Thisbie doe I fee.
O vvicked vvall, through vyhom I fee no bliffe,
Curt be thy ſtones for this deceivingly mee.

Theſ. The vvall me-thinkes being ſenſible, ſhould
curſe againe.

Pir. No in truth fir, he ſhould not. Deceasing me,
Is Thisbies cue; ſhe is to enter, and I am to ſpy
Her through the vvall. You ſhall fee it vvill fall.

Enter Thisbie.

Pat as I told you; yonder ſhe comes.

This. O vvall, full often haſt thou heard my moones,
For parting my faire Piramus, and me.
My cherry lips haue often kiſt thy ſtones;
Thy ſtones vvith Lime and Haire knit vp in thee.

Pyra. I fee a voyce; now vvill I to the chinke,
To ſpy and I can heare my Thisbies face. Thisbie?

This. My Loue art, my Loue I thinke.

Pir. Thinke what thou vvilt, I am thy Louers grace,
And like Limauder am I truſty fill.

This. And like Helen till the Fates me kill.

Pir. Not Shafalms to Procrus, was it true.

This. As Shafalms to Procrus, I to you.

Pir. O

A Midsummer Nights Dreame.

163

Pir. O kiffe me through the hole of this vile wall.

This. I kiffe the wals hole, not your lips at all.

Pir. Wilt thou at Ninnies tombe meete, me straight
way?

This. Tide life, tide death, I come without delay.

Wall. This haue I wall, my part discharged so.

And being done, thus Wall away, doth go: Exit Clau.

Du. Now is the morall downe betweene the two.

Neighbors.

Dem. No remedie my Lord, when Wals are so wil-
full, to heare without varning.

Dut. This is the filliest ruffe that ere I heard.

Du. The beft in this kind are but shadowes, and the
workt are no worfe, if imagination amend them.

Dut. It must be your imagination then, & not theirs.

Duk. If wee imagine no worfe, of them then they of
themfelues, they may palle for excellent men. Here com
two noble beafts, in a man and a Lion.

### Enter Lyon and Moone-shine.

Lyon. You Ladies, you (whole gentle harts) do feare
The smallest monstrous moule (that creepes on floore)
May now perchance, both quake and tremble heere,
When Lion rough, in wildett rage doth roare.

Then know that I, one Snug the loyner am

A Lion fell, nor else no Lions dam:

For if I should as Lion come in strife

Into this place, were pittie of my life.

Du. A verie gentle beaſt, and of a good conſciencie.

Dem. The verie beaſt at a beaſt, my Lord, y'ere I saw.

Lif. This Lion is a verie Fox for his valor.

Du. True, and a Goose for his diſcretion.

Dem. Not for my Lord: for his valor cannot carrie
his diſcretion, and the Fox carries the Goose.

Du. His diſcretion I am sure cannot carrie his valor:
for the Goose carries not the Fox. It is well; leauen it to
his diſcretion, and let vs hearken to the Moone.

Moon. This Lanthorne doth the horned Moone pre-
fent.

De. He should haue worne the hornes on his head.

Du. Hee is no crescent, and his hornes are inuſible,
within the circumference.

Moon. This Lanthorne doth the horned Moone pre-
fent: My ſelfe, the man i'th Moone doth ſee me to be.

Du. This is the greatest error of all the reſt; the man
should be put into the Lanthorne. How is it els the man
i'th Moone?

Dem. He dares not come there for the candle.

For you fee, it is already in ſnuffe.

Dut. I am vvearie of this Moone; vwould he would
change.

Du. It appears by his ſmal light of diſcretion, that
he is in the wane: but yet in courteſie, in all reaſon, vve
muſt stay the time.

Lif. Proceed Moone.

Moon. All that I haue to ſay, is to tell you, that the
Lanthorne is the Moone; I, the man in the Moone; this
thorne buſh, my thorne buſh; and this dog, my dog.

Dem. Why all these should be in the Lanthorne: for
they are in the Moone. But ſilence, heere comes Thisby.

### Enter Thisby.

This. This is old Ninnies tombe: where is my loue?

Lyon. Oh.

The Lion roares, Thisby runs off.

Dem. Well roar'd Lion.

Du. Well run Thisby.

Dut. Well ſhone Moone.

Truly the Moone ſhiners with a good grace.

Du. Wel mouz'd Lion.

Dem. And then came Piramus.

Lif. And to the Lion vanifht.

### Enter Piramus.

Pir. Sweet Moone, I thank thee for thy funny beames,
I thank thee Moone, for ſhining now so bright:
For by thy gracious, golden, glittering beames,
I trust to tafe of trueth Thisbyes light.

But stay : O spight ! but marke, poore Knight,
What dreadful dole is here?

Eyes do you fee! How can it be!

O dainty Ducke: O Deere!

Thy mantle good; what ſtaind with blood !

Approach you Furies fell :

O Fates! come, come : Cut thred and thrum,
Quale, cruſh, conclude, and quell.

Du. This paſſion, and the death of a deare friend,
Would go neere to make a man looke sad.

Dut. Beſhrew my heart, but I pittie the man.

Pir. O wherefore Nature, didt thou Lions frame?

Since Lion vilde hath heere deſtour'd my deere:

Which is: no, no, which was the faireſt Dame

That liu'd, that lou'd, that lik'd, that look'd with cheere.

Come teares, confound : Out ſword, and wound

The pap of Piramus:

I, that left pap, where heart doth hop ;

Thus dye I, thus, thus, thus.

Now am I dead, now am I fled, my foule is in the sky,

Tongue loſe thy light, Moone take thy flight,

Now dye, dye, dye, dye, dye.

Dem. No Die, but an ace for him; for he is but one.

Lif. Lefſe then an ace man. For he is dead, he is no
thing.

Du. With the helpe of a Surgeon, he might yet recou-
er, and proue an Aſſe.

Dut. How chance Moone-shine is gone before?
Thisby comes backe, and findes her Louer.

### Enter Thisby.

Duke. She wil finde him by ſtarre-light.

Heere ſhe comes, and her paſſion ends the play.

Dut. Me thinkes ſhe should not vſe a long one for
uch a Piramus : I hope ſhe will be breeſe.

Dem. A Moth will turne the ballance, which Piramus
which Thisby is the better.

Lif. She hath ſpyed him already, with ſhove ſwete

Dem. And thus ſhe meanes, videlicita.

This. Aſleep my Lone? What, dead my Done?

O Piramus arise:

Speake, Speake. Quite dumbe? Dead, dead? A tombe

Muſt couer thy ſweet eyes.

These ſlery Lips, this cherry noſe,

These ſyellow Cowſlip cheekes

Are gone, are gone: Louers make mone :

His eyes were greene as Leekes.

O sifteres three, come, come to me,

With hands as pale as Milke,

Lay them in gore, ſince you haue ſhore

With ſheeres, his thred of filke.

Tongue not a word: Come truſty ſword :

Come blade, my breſt imbrues:

O 3

And

A Midsummerernights Dreame.

And farwell friends, thus Thisbie ends;
Adieu, adieu, adieu.

Duk, Moon-shine & Lion are left to burie the dead.
Deme. I, and Wall too.

Bot. No, I affure you, the wall is downe, that parted their Fathers. Will it please you to see the Epilogue, or to heare a Bergomask dance, betweene two of our company?

Duk. No Epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excuse. Neuer excuse; for when the plaiers are all dead, there need none to be blamed. Marry, if hee that writ it had plaid Piramus, and hung himselve in Thisbies garter, it would haue beene a fine Tragedy: and so it is truely, and very notably discharg'd. But come, your Burgomaske; let your Epilogue alone.

The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelue.
Louers to bed, 'tis almost Fairy time.
I feare we shall out-sleep the comming morne,
As much as we this night haue ouer-watcht.
This palpable groſſe play hath well beguil'd
The heauy gate of night. Sweet friends to bed.
A fortnight hold we this Solemnity.
In nightly Reuels; and new iollitie.

Exeunt.

Enter Pucke.

Puck. Now the hungry Lyons rores,
And the Wolfe beholds the Moone:
Whileſt the heauy ploughman snores,
All with weary taske fore-done.
Now the waſted brands doe glow,
Whilſt the ſcritch-owle, ſcritching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe,
In remembrance of a ſhrowd.
Now it is the time of night,
That the graues, all gaping wide,
Euery one lets forth his ſpright,
In the Church-way paths to glide.
And we Fairies, that do runne,
By the triple Hecates teame,
From the prefence of the Sunne,
Following darkenesſe like a dreame,
Now are frollicke; not a Mouse
Shall diſturbe this hallowed house.
I am ſent with broome before,
To sweep the duſt behinde the doore.

Enter King and Queene of Fairies, with their traine.

Ob. Through the house giue glimmering light,

By the dead and drowsie fier,
Euere Elſe and Fairie ſpright,
Hop as light as bird from brier,
And this Ditty after me, ſing and dance it trippinglie.

Tita. First rehearſe this ſong by roate,
To each word a warbling note.
Hand in hand, with Fairie grace,
Will we ſing and bleſſe this place.

The Song.

Now until the breake of day,
Through this house each Fairy ſpray.
To the best Bride-bed will we,
which by vs shall bleſſed be:
And the ſſue there create,
Euere ſhall be fortunate :
So ſhall all the couples three,
Euere true in loving be :
And the blots of Natures hand,
Shall not in their ſſue stand,
Neuer mole, harelip, nor ſcarre,
Nor marke prodigious, ſuch as are
Deſſed in Naſtuitie,
Shall upon their children be.
With this field dew conſecrate,
Euery Fairy take his gate,
And each ſener all chamber bleſſe,
Through this Pallace with ſweet peace,
Euere ſhall in safety reſt,
And the owner of it bleſſ.
Trip away, make no ſtay;
Meet me all by breake of day.

Robin. If we ſhadowes haue offended,
Thinke but this (and all is mended)
That you haue but flumbed heere,
While theſe vifions did appeare.
And this weake and idle theame,
No more yeelding but a dreame,
Centles, doe not reprehend.
If you pardon, we will mend.
And as I am an honest Pucke,
If we haue vnearned lucke,
Now to ſcape the Serpents tongue,
We will make amends ere long:
Elſe the Pucke a lyar call.
So good night vnto you all.
Gie me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin ſhall reſtore amends.

FINIS.

# The Merchant of Venice.

## *Actus primus.*

Enter Anthony, Salarino, and Salarie.

Anthony.

Nоoth I know not why I am so sad,
It wearies me: you say it wearies you;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuffe't is made of, whereof it is borne,
I am to learne: and such a Want-wit sadneffe makes of
mee,
That I haue much ado to know my selfe.

Sal. Your minde is tofsing on the Ocean,
There where your Argosies with portly faile
Like Signiors and rich Burgers on the flood,
Or as it were the Pageants of the Sea,
Do ouer-peere the pettie Traffiquers
That curtie to them, do them reuerence
As they flye by them with their wouen wings.
Salar. Beleeue me fir, had I fuch venture forth,
The better part of my affections, would
Be with my hopes abroad. I should be fill
Plucking the graffe to know where fits the winde,
Peering in Maps for ports, and peers, and rodes:
And euery obiect that might make me feare
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt
Would make me sad.

Sal. My winde cooling my broth,
Would blow me to an Ague, when I thought
What harme a winde too great might doe at sea,
I should not fee the fandie houre-giaffie runne,
But I should thinke of shallows, and of flats,
And fee my wealthy Andrew docks in sand,
Vailing her high top lower then her ribs
To kiffe her buriall; should I goe to Church
And fee the holy edifice of stone,
And not bethinke me fraight of dangerous rocks,
Which touching but my gentle Veffels fide
Would scatter all her spices on the ftreame,
Enrobe the roring waters with my filkes,
And in a word, but euen now worth this,
And now worth nothing. Shall I haue the thought
To thinke on this, and shall I lacke the thought
That such a thing bechaunc'd would make me sad?
But tell not me, I know Anthony
Is sad to thinke vpon his merchandize.

Anth. Beleeue me no, I thanke my fortune for it,
My ventures are not in one bottome trufsted,
Nor to one place; nor is my whole eftate

P. Upon the fortune of this present yeere:

Therefore my merchandize makes me not fad.

Sola. Why then you are in loue.

Antb. Fie, fic.

Sola. Not in loue neither: then let vs fly you are sad
Because you are not merry; and 'twere as eafe
For you to laugh and leape, and say you are merry
Because you are not sad. Now by two-headed Ianus,
Nature hath fram'd strange fellowes in her time:
Some that will euermore peepe through their eyes,
And laugh like Parrats at a bag-piper.
And other of such vineger aspect,
That they'll not Thew their teeth in way of smile,
Though Neffor fware the iest be laughable.

Enter Baffanio, Lorenfo, and Gratiano.

Sola. Heere comes Baffanio,
Your moft noble Kinfman,
Gratiano, and Lorenſa. Faryewell,
We leaue you now with better company.
Sala. I would haue ſtaid till I had made you merry,
If worthier friends had not prevented me.

Ant. Your worth is very deere in my regard,
I take it your owne buſines calls on you,
And you embrace th'occasion to depart.

Sal. Good morrow my good Lords. (when?

Baff. Good signiors both, when ſhall we laugh? ſay,
You grow exceeding ſtrange: muſt it be ſo?
Sal. Wee'll make our leſures to attend on yours.

Exeunt Salarino, and Solanio.

Lor. My Lord Baffanio, ſince you have found Anthonio
We two will leaue you, but at dinner time
I pray you haue in minde where we muſt meete,

Baff. I will not faile you.

Grat. You looke not well ſignior Anthonio,
You haue too much reſpect vpon the world:
They loose it that doe buy it with much care,
Beleeue me you are maruellouſly chang'd.

Ant. I hold the world but as the world Gratiano,
A ſtage, where euery man muſt play a part,
And mine a ſad one.

Grati. Let me play the foole,
With mirth and laughter let old wrinckles come,
And let my Liuer rather heate with wine,
Then my heart coole with mortifying grones.
Why ſhould a man whosebloud is warme within,
Sit like his Grandſire, cut in Alablaster?
Sleepe when he wakes? and creep into the Jaundies

By

The Merchant of Venice.

162

By being peeuish? I tell thee what *Anthony*,
I loue thee, and it is my loue that I speaks:
There are a fort of men, whose visages
Do creame and mantle like a standing pond,
And do a wilfull stilnesse entertaine,
With purpote to be dret in an opinion
Of wiledome, gravity, profound conceit,
As who should fay, I am fir an Oracle,
And when I ope my lips, let no dogge barke.
O my *Anthony*, I do know of thefe
That therefore onely are reputed wife,
For faying nothing; when I am verie fure
If they should Ipeake, would almoft dam thofe eares
Which hearing them would call their brothers fooles:
Ile tell thee more of this another time.

Lor. Well, we will leaue you then till dinner time.
I muſt be one of theſe fame dumbe wife men,
For Gratiano neuer let's me ſpeake.

Gra. Well, keepe me company but two yeares mo,
Thou ſhalt not know the found of thine owne tongue.

Ant. Far you well, Ile grow a talker for this geare.

Gra. Thanks ifaith, for ſilence is onely commendable
In a neats tongue dri'd, and a maid not vendible. Exit.

Ant. It is that any thing now.

Baf. Gratiano speaks an infinite deale of nothing,
more then any man in all Venice, his reaſons are two
graines of wheate hid in two buſels of chaffe: you ſhall
ſeeke all day ere you finde them, & when you haue them
they are not worth the ſearch.

An. Well: tel me now, what Lady is the fame
To whom you ſwore a ſecret Pilgrimage
That you to day promis'd to tel me of?

Baf. Tis now unknowne to you *Anthony*

How much I haue disabled mine eſtate,
By ſomething ſhewing a more ſwelling port
Then my faint meanes would grant continuance:
Nor do I now make mone to be abridg'd;
From ſuch a noble rate, but my cheeſe care
Is to come fairly off from the great debts
Wherein my time ſomething too prodigall
Hath left me gag'd: to you *Anthony*
I owe the moſt in money, and in loue,
And from your loue I haue a warrantie
To vnburthen all my plots and purpofes,
How to get cleere of all the debts I owe.

An. I pray you good *Baffano* let me know it,
And if it ſand as you your ſelfe ſtill do,
Within the eye of honour, be affur'd
My purſe, my perſon, my extreameſt meanes
Lye all vnlock'd to your occasions.

Baff. In my schoole dayes, when I had loſt one ſhaft
I ſhoot his fellow of the ſelſe fame flight
The ſelſe fame way, with more aduſed watch
To finde the other ſorth, and by aduenturing both,
I oft found both. I vrge this child-hooſe proofe,
Because what followes is pure innocence.
I owe you much, and like a wilfull youth,
That which I owe is loſt: but if you pleafe
To shoote another arrow that ſelfe way
Which you did ſhoot the firſt, I do not doubt,
As I will watch the ayme: Or to finde both,
Or bring your latter hazard backe againe,

And thankfully reſt debter for the firſt.

An. You know me well, and herein ſpend but time

To winde about my loue with circumſtance,
And out of doubt you doe more wrong
In making question of my vttermoſt
Then if you had made waſe of all I haue:
Then doe but fay to me what I should doe
That in your knowledge may by me be done,
And I am pried into it: therefore I speake.

Baff. In *Belmont* is a Lady richly left,
And ſhe is faire, and fairer then that word,
Of wondrous vertues, ſometimes from her eyes
I did receiue faire ſpeechleſſe meſſages:
Her name is *Portia*, nothing vndevvallew'd
To *Cato's* daughter, *Brutus Portia*,
Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth,
For the ſoure windes blow in from euery coaſt
Renowned ſutors, and her funny locks
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece,
Which makes her ſeat of *Belmont Chelchos* ſtrond,
And many *Iaſons* come in queſt of her.
O my *Anthony*, had I but the meanes
To hold a riuall place with one of them,
I haue a minde prefages me ſuch thrift,
That I should questionleſſe be fortunate.

Ant. Thou knowſt that all my fortunes are at fea,
Neither haue I money, nor commodity
To raſe a preſent ſumſe, therefore goe forth
Try what my credit can in *Venice* doe,
That ſhall be *backt euen to the* vttermoſt,
To furnish thee to *Belmont* to faire *Portia*.
Goe preſently enquire, and ſo will I
Where money is, and I no question make
To haue it of my truſt, or for my ſake.

Exenunt.

Enter *Portia* with her waiting woman *Neriffa*.

Portia. By my troth *Neriffa*, my little body is a wea-
rie of this great world.

Ner. You would be ſweet Madam, if your mileries
were in the fame abundance as your good fortunes are:
and yet for ought I fee, they are as ſicke that ſurſet with
too much, as they that ſtarue with nothing; it is no ſmal
happineſſe therefore to bee feared in the meane, ſuper-
fluitie comes ſooner by white haires, but competencie
lies longer.

Portia. Good ſentences, and well pronounct'd.

Ner. They would be better if well followed.

Portia. If to doe were as eſſe as to know what were
good to doe, Chappels had beene Churches, and poore
mens cottages Princes Pallaees: it is a good Diuine that
followes his owne inſtructions; I can eſſer teach twen-
tie what were good to be done, then be one of the twen-
tie to follow mine owne teaching: the braine may de-
uſe lawes for the blood, but a hot temper leapes ore a
colde decree, ſuch a hare is madneſſe the youth, to skip
ore the meſhes of good counſaile the cripple; but this
reafon is not in ſashion to chooſe me a husband: O mee,
the word chooſe, I may neither chooſe whom I would,
nor refuse whom I diſlike, ſo is the wil of a liuing daugh-
ter curb'd by the will of a dead father: it is not hard *Ner-
riffa*, that I cannot chooſe one, nor refuse none.

Ner. Your father was euer vertuous, and holy men
at their death haue good inſpirations, therefore the lot-
terie that hee hath deuifed in theſe three cheſts of gold,
ſiluer, and leade, whereof who chooſes his meaning,
chooſes

The Merchant of Venice.

163

chooses you, will no doubt neuer be choosen by any right-
ly, but one who you shall rightly loue: but what warmth
is there in your affection towards any of these Princely
futers that are already come?

Por. I pray thee ouer-name them, and as thou namest
them, I will describe them, and according to my descript-
tion leuell at my affection.

Ner. First there is the Neopolitain Prince.

Por. I that's a colt indeede, for he doth nothing but
talke of his horfe, and he makes it a great appropria-
tion to his owne good parts that he can floo him him-
felfe: I am much afraid my Ladie his mother plaid falfe
with a Smyth.

Ner. Than is there the Countie Palentine.

Por. He doth nothing but frowne (as who should
fay, and you will not haue me, choofe: he heares merrie
tales and smiles not, I feare hee will proue the weeping
Phylopher when he growes old, being so full of vn-
mannerly fadneſſe in his youth.) I had rather to be marri-
ed to a deaths head with a bone in his mouth, then to ei-
ther of theſe: God defend me from theſe two.

Ner. How ſay you by the French Lord, Mounſter
Le Bonne?

Pro. God made him, and therefore let him paffe for a
man, in truth I know it is a finne to be a mockery, but he,
why he hath a horſe better then the Neopolitans, a bet-
ter bad habite of frowning then the Count Palentine, he
is euery man in no man, if a Traſſell ſing. he faſs fraight
a capring, he will fence with his own ſhadow. If I should
marry him, I should marry twentie husbands: if hee
would deſpife me, I would forgiue him, for if he loue me
to madneſſe, I should neuer requite him.

Ner. What ſay you then to Fauonbridge, the yong
Baron of England?

Por. You know I ſay nothing to him, for hee vnder-
ſtands not me, nor I him: he hath neither Latine, French,
nor Italian, and you will come into the Court & ſware
that I haue a poore pennie-worth in the English: hee is a
proper man ſpicture, but alas who can converſe with a
dumbe ſhow? how odly he is ſuited, I thinke he bought
his doublet in Italie, his round hofe in France, his bonnet
in Germanie, and his behauiour euery where.

Ner. What thinke you of the other Lord his neigh-
bour?

Por. That he hath a neighbourly charitie in him, for
he borrowed a boxe of the care of the Englishman, and
ſware he would pay him againe when hee was able: I
thinke the Frenchman became his ſuretie, and ſeald vnder
for another.

Ner. How like you the yong Germaine, the Duke of
Saxonies Nephew?

Por. Very vildely in the morning when hee is sober,
and moſt vildely in the afternoone when hee is drunke:
when he is beſt, he is a little worſe then a man, and when
he is worſt, he is little better then a beaſt: and the worſt
fall that euer fell, I hope I ſhall make ſhift to goe with-
out him.

Ner. If he should offer to choofe, and choofe the right
Casket, you should refuse to performe your Fathers will,
if you should refuse to accept him.

Por. Therefore for ſeare of the worſt, I pray thee ſet
a deep ſglasse of Reinfith-wine on the contrary Casket,
for if the diuell be within, and that temptation without,
I know he will choofe it. I will doe any thing Nerriffa
ere I will be married to a ſpunge.

Ner. You neede not ſeare Lady the hauing any of

theſe Lords, they haue acquainted me with their determinations, which is indeede to returne to their home, and to trouble you with no more ſuite, vnleſſe you may be won by ſome other ſort then your Fathers impoffit ion, depending on the Caskets.

Por. If I liue to be as olde as Sibilla, I will dye as
chafte as Diana: vnleſſe I be obtained by the manner
of my Fathers will: I am glad this parcell of wooers
are so reaſonable, for there is not one among them but
I doate on his verie abſence: and I wifh them a faire de-
parture.

Ner. Doe you not remember Ladie in your Fa-
thers time, a Venecian, a Scholler and a Souldior that
came hither in companie of the Marqueſſe of Mount-
ferrat?

Por. Yes, yes, it was Baffanio, as I thinke, so was hee
call'd.

Ner. True Madam, hee of all the men that euer my
foolſh eyes look'd vpon, was the beſt deferuing a faire
Lady.

Por. I remember him well, and I remember him wor-
thy of thy praise.

Enter a Scrvingman.

Ser. The foure Strangers ſeeke you Madam to take
their leaue: and there is a fore-runner come from a ſift,
the Prince of Moroce, who brings word the Prince his
Maſter will be here to night.

Por. If I could bid the ſift welcome with so good
heart as I can bid the other four ſarewall, I ſhould be
glad of his approach: if he haue the condition of a Saint,
and the complexion of a diuell, I had rather hee ſhould
ſhriue me then wiuе me. Come Nerriffa, ſirra go before;
whiles wee ſhut the gate vpon one wooer, another
knocks at the doore.
Exeunt.

Enter Baffanio with Shylocke the Iew.

Sby. Three thouſand ducates, well.

Baff. I fir, for three months.

Sby. For three months, well.

Baff. For the which, as I told you,
Anthonio ſhall be bound.

Sby. Anthonio ſhall become bound, well.

Baff. May you ſed me? Will you pleafure me?
Shall I know your anſwere.

Sby. Three thouſand ducats for three months,
and Anthonio bound.

Baff. Your anſwere to that.

Sby. Anthonio is a good man.

Baff. Haue you heard any imputation to the con-
trary.

Sby. Ho no, no, no, no: my meaning in ſaying he is a
good man, is to haue you vnderſtand me that he is ſuffi-
ent, yet his meanes are in ſuppoſition: he hath an Argo-
fie bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies, I vnder-
ſtand moreouer vpon the Ryalta, he hath a third at Mexi-
co, a fourth for England, and other ventures hee hath
ſquandred abroad, but ſhips are but boords, ſaylers but
men, there be land rats, and water rats, water theeuces,
and land theeuces, I meane Pyrats, and then there is the
perrill of waters, windes, and rocks: the man is notwith-
ſtanding ſufficient, three thouſand ducats, I thinke I may
take his bond.

Baff. Be affured you may.

Iew. I.

The Merchant of Venice.

166

Iew. I will be affured I may: and that I may be affu-
red, I will bethinke mee, may I Speake with Antho-
nio?

Baff. If it please you to dine with vs.

Iew. Yes, to smell porke, to eate of the habitation
which your Prophet the Nazarite coniured the diuell
into: I will buy with you, fell with you, talke with
you, walke with you, and so following a but I will
not eate with you, drinke with you, nor pray with you.
What newes on the Ryalta, who is he comes here?

Enter Anthonyo.

Baff. This is lignior Anthonio.

Iew. How like a fawning publican he looks.
I hate him for he is a Christian :

But more, for that in low simplicitie

He lends out money gratis, and brings downe

The rate ofvfance here with vs in Venice.
If I can catch him once vpon the hip,

I will feede fat the ancient grudge I beare him.

He hates our faced Nation, and he rales

Euen there where Merchants moft doe congregate

On me, my bargaines, and my well-worne thrift,

Which he calls interrest: Curled be my Trybe

If I forgive him.

Baff. Shylock, doe you heare.

Shy. I am debateing of my preſent ſtore,

And by the neere geſſe of my memorie.

I cannot inflantly raſe vp the groſſe

Of full three thouſand ducats: what of that?

Tuball a wealthy Hebrew of my Tribe

Will furnish me, but ſoft, how many months

Doe you define ſe Reſt you faire good lignior,

Your worſhip was the laſt man in our mouthes.

Ant. Shylocke, albeit I neither lend nor borrows
By taking, nor by giuing of exceſſe,

Yet to ſupply the ripe wants of my friend,

He breake a cuſtome: is he yet poſſeſt

How much he would?

Shy. I, I, three thouſand ducats.

Ant. And for three months.

Shy. I had forgot three months, you told me so.

Well then, your bond : and let me fee, but heare you,

Me thoughts you ſaid, you neither lend nor borrows

Vpon aduantage,

Ant. I doe neuer vſe it.

Shy. When Jacob graz'd his Uncle Labans sheepe,

This Jacob from our holy Abram was

(As his wife mother wrought in his behalfe)

The third poſſeſſer I, he was the third.

Ant. And what of him, did he take interreſt?

Shy. No, not take intereſt, not as you would ſay
Direetly intereſt, marke what Jacob did,

When Laban and himſelfe were compreſmyn'd

That all the eanelings which were ſtreakt and pied

Should fall as Iacob's hier, the Ewes being ranke,

In end of Aurumne turned to the Rammes,

And when the worke of generation was

Betweene these woolly breeders in the aſt,

The skilſull shepheard pil'd me certaine wands,

And in the dooing of the deede of kindne,

He ſtucke them vp before the ſuſome Ewes,

Who then conceaing, did in caning time

Fall party-colour'd lambs, and thofe were Iacob's.

This was a way to thrue, and he was bleft :

And thrift is bleſſing if men ſteale it not.

Ant. This was a venture fir that Jacob feru'd for,
A thing not in his power to bring to paſſe,
But fw ay'd and fashion'd by the hand of heauen.

Was this inſerted to make interreſt good?

Or is your gold and ſluer Ewes and Rams ?

Shy. I cannot tell, I make it breede as aſſt,
But note me lignior.

Ant. Marke you this Baffanie,

The diuell can eſtibe Scripture for his purpose,

An euill ſoule producing holy witneſſe,

Is like a villaine with a ſmiling cheeſe,

A goodly apple rotten at the heart.

O what a goodly outside falſehood hath.

Shy. Three thouſand ducats, 'tis a good round ſum.

Three months from twelue, then let me fee the rate.

Ant. Well Shylocke, shall we be beholding to you?

Shy. Signior Anthonio, many a time and oft

In the Ryalto you haue rated me

About my monies and my vſances :

Still haue I borne it with a patient ſhrug,
(For ſuffrance is the badge of all our Tribe.)

You call me misbeleeuer, cut-throate dog,

And ſpet vpon my Jewish gaberdine,

And all for vſe of that which is mine owne.

Well then, it now appears you neede my helpe:

Goe to then, you come to me, and you ſay,

Shylocke, we would haue moneyes, you ſay fo :

You that did vode your rume vpon my beard,

And foote me as you ſpurne a ſtranger curre

Ouer your threshold, moneyes is your ſuite.

What should I ſay to you ? Should I not ſay,

Hath a dog money ? Is it poſſible

A curre should lend three thouſand ducats ? or

Shall I bend low, and in a bond-mans key

With bated breath, and whiſping humbleneſſe,

Say this: Faire fir, you ſpet on me on Wednesday laſt;

You ſpurn'd me ſuch a day; another time

You cald me dog: and for these curteſies

He lend you thus much moneyes.

Ant. I am as like to call thee ſo againe,

To ſpet on thee againe, to ſpurne thee too.

If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not

As to thy friends, for when did friendſhip take

A breede of barraine mettall of his friend?

But lend it rather to thine enemie,

Who if he breake, thou maſt with better face

Exact the penalties.

Shy. Why looke you how you ſtorme,

I would be friends with you, and haue your loue,

Forget the ſhames that you haue ſtain'd me with,

Supplice your preſent wants, and take no doite

Of vſance for my moneyes, and youle not heare me,

This is kindle I offer.

Baff. This were kindneſſe.

Shy. This kindneſſe will I ſhowe,

Goe with me to a Notarie, ſeale me there

Your single bond, and in a merrie ſport.

If you repaie me not on ſuch a day,

In ſuch a place, ſuch ſum or ſums as are

Expreſt in the condition, let the forfeite

Benominated for an equall pound.

Of your faire ſleth, so be cur ſoff and taken

In what part of your bodie it pleafeth me.

Ant. Content infaith, Ile ſeale to ſuch a bond,

And ſay there is much kindneſſe in the Iew.

Baff. You

The Merchant of Venice.

167

Bass. You shall not feale to such a bond for me,
Ile rather dwell in my neceffitie.

Ant. Why fear not man, I will not forfaite it,
Within these two months, that's a month before
This bond expires, I doe expeſt returne
Of thrice three times the valew of this bond.

Sby. O father *Abrams*, what *these* Chriſtians are,
Whole owne hard dealings teaches them ſuſeſt
The thoughts of others: Praie you tell me this,
If he should breake his daie, what *should* I gaine
By the exaſtion of the forfeiture?

A pound of mans ſleſh taken from a man,
Is not ſo eſtimable, profitable neither

As ſleſh of Muttons, Beefes, or Goares, I lay
To buy his fauour, I extend this ſciendſhip,
If he will take it, ſo; if not adieus,
And for my loue I prae you wrong me not.

Ant. Yes *Shylocks*, I will ſeale vnto this bond,

Sby. Then meete me forthwith at the Notaries,
Gie him direction for this merrie bond,
And I will goe and purſe the ducats ſtraite.

See to my house left in the ſeaſefull gard

Of an vnthriftie *knane*: and preſentlie
Ile be with you.

Exit.

Ant. Hie thee gentle *Iew*. This Hebrew will turne
Chriſtian, he growes kinde.

Bass. I like not faire teames, and a villaines minde.

Ant. Come on, in this there can be no diſmaie,
My Shippes come home a month before the daie.

Exeunt.

## Aſtus Secundus.

Enter Morochus a tawnie Moore all in white, and three or foure followers accordingly, with Portia,
Nervilla, and their traine.

Flor. Cornets.

Mor. Miflike me not for my complexion,
The shadowed liuerie of the burniſh ſunne,
To whom I am a neighbour, and neere bred.
Bring me the faireſt creature North-ward borne,
Where Phabus fire (carcethawes the yſicles,
And let vs make inciſion for your loue,
To proue whole blood is redded, his or mine,
it tell thee Ladie this aſpect of mine
Hath feard the valiant, (by my loue I ſweare)
The beſt regarded Virgins of our Clyme
Hauë lou'd it to: I would not change this hue,
Except to ſeale your thoughts my gentle Queene.

Por. In tearmes of choife I am not ſolie led
By nice direction of a maidens eies :
Besides, the lottrie of my deſtenie
Bars me the right of voluntarie chooſing:
But if my Father had not ſcanted me,
And hedg'd me by his wit to yeelde my ſelſe
His wife, who wins me by that means I told you,
Your ſelſe (renowned Prince) than ſood as faire
As any commer I haue look'd on yet
For my affection.

Mor. Euen for that I thankeyou,
Therefore I pray you lead me to the Caskets
To trie my fortune: By this Symitare

That flew the Sophie, and a Perſian Prince
That won three fields of Sultan Solyman,
I would ore-stare the ſterneſt eies that looke:
Out-braue the heart moſt daring on the earth :
Plucke the yong ſucking Cubs from the ſhe Beare,
Yea, mocke the Lion when he rores for pray
To win the Ladie. But alas, the while
If *Hereules* and *Lychas* plaie at dice
Which is the better man, the greater throw
May turne by fortune from the weaker hand :
So is *Alcides* beaten by his rage,
And so may I, blinde fortune leading me
Miffle that which one vnworthing may attaine,
And die with grieuing.

Port. You muſt take your chance,
And either not attempt to choose at all,
Or ſweare before you choose, if you choose wrong
Neuer to ſpeake to Ladie afterward
In way of marriage, therefore be aduis'd.

Mor. Nor will not, come bring me vnto my chance.

Por. First forward to the temple, after dinner
Your hazard shall be made.

Mor. Good fortune then,
To make me bleſt or curſed it among men.

Cornets.
Exeunt.

Enter the Clowne alone.

Clo. Certainly, my confcience will ſerue me to run
from this *Jew* my Maifter: the fiend is at mine elbow,
and tempts me, ſaying to me, *Iobbe*, *Launcelet Iobbe*, good
*Launcelet*, or good *Iobbe*, or good *Launcelet Iobbe*, vſe
your legs, take the ſtart, run awaie: my confcience faies
no; take heede honest *Launcelet*; take heed honest *Iobbe*,
or as afore-faid honest *Launcelet Iobbe*, doe not runne,
ſcorne running with thy heeles; well, the moſt coragious
ſiend bids me packe, *ſia* faies the fiend, away faies
the fiend, for the heauens rouſe vp a braue minde faies
the fiend, and run; well, my confcience hanging about
the necke of my heart, faies verie wifely to me: my ho-
neſt friend *Launcelet*, being an honest mans ſonne, or ra-
ther an honest woman's ſonne, for indeede my Father did
ſomething ſmack, ſomething grow too; he had a kinde of
taſſe; well, my confcience faies *Lancelet* bouge not, bouge
faies the fiend, bouge not faies my confcience, confcience
fay I you counſaile well, fiend ſay I you counſaile well,
to be rul'd by my confcience I should ſtay with the *Jew*
my Maifter, (who God bleſſe the marke) is a kinde of di-
uell; and to run away from the *Jew* I should be ruled by
the fiend, who fauing your reverence is the diuell him-
ſelſe: certainly the *Jew* is the verie diuell incarnation,
and in my confcience, my confcience is a kinde of hard
confcience, to offer to counſaile me to ſtay with the *Jew*;
the fiend giues the more friendly counſaile: I will runne
fiend, my heeles are at your commandement, I will
runne.

Enter old Gobbo with a Basket.

Gob. Maifter yong-man, you I prae you, which is the
waie to Maifter *Jewes*?

Lan. O heauens, this is my true begotten Father, who
being more then sand-blinde, high grauel blinde, knows
me not, I will trie confuſions with him.

Gob. Maifter yong Gentleman, I prae you which is
the waie to Maifter *Jewes*.

Lau. Turne upon your right hand at the next turn-
ning

The Merchant of Venice.

ning, but at the next turning of all on your left; marrie
at the verie next turning, turne of no hand, but turn down
indirectlie to the Iewes house.

Gob. Be Gods fonties'twill be a hard waie to hit, can
you tell me whether one Launcelet that dwels with him,
dwell with him or no.

Laun. Talke you of yong Mafter Launcelet, marke
me now, now will I raise the waters; talke you of yong
Mafter Launcelet?

Gob. No Mafter fir, but a poore mans fonne, his Fa-
ther though I fay't is an honest exceeding poore man,
and God be thanked well to him.

Laun. Well, let his Father be what a will, wee talke of
yong Mafter Launcelet.

Gob. Your worships friend and Launcelet.

Laun. But I praie you ergo old man, ergo I befeech you,
talke you of yong Mafter Launcelet.

Gob. Of Launcelets, ant please your maifter ship.

Laun. Ergo Mafter Launcelet, talke not of maifter Lancelet Father, for the yong gentleman according to fates and deftinies, and fuch odde sayings, the lifters three, & fuch branches of learning, is indeede deceafed, or as you would fay in plaine tearmes, gone to heaven.

Gob. Marrie God forbid, the boy was the verie ſtaffe
of my age, my verie prop.

Laun. Do I look like a cudgell or a houell-poſt, a ſtaffe
or a prop: doe you know me Father.

Gob. Alacke the day, I know you not yong Gentle-
man, but I praie you tell me; is my boy God reft his foule
aliue or dead.

Laun. Doe you not know me Father.

Gob. Alacke fir I am sand blinde, I know you not.

Laun. Nay, indeede if you had your cies you might
faile of the knowing merit is a wife Father that knowes
his owne childe. Well, old man, I will tell you newes of
your fon, giue me your bleſſing, truth will come to light,
murder cannot be hid long, a mans fonne may, but in the
end truth will out.

Gob. Praie you fir ſtand vp, I am ſure you are not
Lancelet my boy.

Laun. Praie you let's have no more fooling about
it, but giue mee your bleſſing: I am Lancelet your
boy that was, your fonne that is, your childe that
ſhall be.

Gob. I cannot thinke you are my ſonne.

Laun. I know not what I ſhall thinke of that: but I am
Lancelet the Iewes man, and I am ſure Margerie your wife
is my mother.

Gob. Her name is Margerie indeede, Ile be ſwore if
thou be Lancelet, thou art mine owne ſlesh and blood:
Lord worſhipt might he be, what a beard haſt thou got:
thou haſt got more haire on thy chin, then Dobbin my
philharſh as on his taile.

Laun. It should feeme then that Dobbins taile
growes backeward. I am ſure he had more haire of his
taile then I haue of my face when I loft ſaw him.

Gob. Lord how art thou chang'd: how dooſt thou
and thy Maſter agree, I haue brought him a preſent; how
gree you now?

Laun. Well, well, but for mine owne part, as I haue ſet
vp my reſt to run awaie, I will not reſt till I haue run
ſome ground; my Maſter's a verie Iew, giue him a pre-
ſent, giue him a halter, I am famiſht in his ſeruice. You
may tell euerie finger I haue with my ribs: Father I am
glad you are come, giue me your preſent to one Maſter
Baffanio, who indeede giues rare new Liueries, if I ſerue

not him, I will run as far as God has anie ground. O rare
fortune, here comes the man, to him Father, for I am a
Iew if I ſerue the Iew anie longer.

Enter Baffanio with a follower or two.

Baff. You may doe so, but let it be so haſted that
ſupper be readie at the fartheſt by ſue of the clocke:
fee theſe Letters deliuered, put the Liueries to mak-
ing, and desire Gratiāno to come anone to my lodg-
ing.

Laun. To him Father,

Gob. God bleſſe your worſhip.

Baff. Gramercie, would it thou ought with me.

Gob. Here's my ſonne fir, a poore boy.

Laun. Not a poore boy fir, but the rich Iewes man that
would fir as my Father ſhall ſpecifie.

Gob. He hath a great inſection fir, as one would ſay
to ſerue.

Laun. Indeede the ſhort and the long is, I ſerue the
Iew, and haue a deſire as my Father ſhall ſpecifie.

Gob. His Maſter and he (ſauing your worſhips reue-
rence) are ſearce catercots.

Laun. To be briefe, the verie truth is, that the Iew
hauing done me wrong, doth cauſe me as my Father be-
ing I hope an old man ſhall ſtrutifie vnto you.

Gob. I haue here a diſh of Doues that I would beſtow
upon your worſhip, and my ſuite is.

Laun. In verie briefe, the ſuite is impertinent to my
ſelfe, as your worſhip ſhall know by this honest old man,
and though I fay it, though old man, yet poore man my
Father.

Baff. One ſpeake for both, what would you?

Laun. Serue you fir.

Gob. That is the verie deſeſt of the matter fir.

Baff. I know thee well, thou haſt obtain'd thy ſuite,
Shylocke thy Maſter ſpoke with me this daie,
And hath prefer'd thee, if it be preferment
To leaue a rich Iewes ſeruice, to become
The follower of ſo poore a Gentleman.

Clo. The old prouerbe is verie well parted betweene
my Maſter Shylocks and you fir, you haue the grace of
God fir, and he hath enough.

Baff. Thou ſpeak it well; go Father with thy Son,
Take leaue of thy old Maſter, and enquire
My lodging out, giue him a Liuerie
More garded then his fellowes: fee it done.

Clo. Father in, I cannot get a ſeruice, no, I haue nere
a tongue in my head, well: if anie man in Italie haue a
fairer table which doth offer to ſwere vpon a booke, I
ſhall haue good fortune; goe too, here's a ſimple line
of life, here's a ſmall trifle of wiues, alas, ſifteene wiues
is nothing, a leuen widdowes and nine maides is a ſim-
ple comming in for one man, and then to ſcape droun-
ning thrice, and to be in perill of my life with the edge
of a featherbed, here are ſimple ſcapes: well, if Fortune
be a woman, the's a good wench for this gere: Father
come, Ile take my leaue of the Iew in the twinkling.

Exit Clowne.

Baff. I praie thee good Leonardo thinke on this,
These things being bought and orderly beſtowed
Returne in haſte, for I doe ſeaf to night
My beſt eſteemd acquaintance, bie thee goe.

Leon. My beſt endeuers ſhall be done herein. Exit. Lea-
Enter Gratiāno.

Gra. Where's your Maſter.

Leon. Yonder

The Merchant of Venice.

169

Leon. Yonder fit he walkes.

Gra. Signior *Baffanio*.

Baj. Gratiano.

Gra. I haue a fute to you.

Baj. You haue obtain'd it.

Gra. You muft not demie me, I muft goe with you to
Belmont.

Baj. Why then you muft: but heare thee Gratiano,
Thou art to wilde, to rude, and bold of voyce,
Parts that become thee happily enough,

And in fuch eyes as ours appearèn'to faulſes;
But where they are not knowne, why there they ſhow
Something too liberall, pray thee take paine

To allay with ſome cold drops of modeſtie
Thy skipping ſpirit, leaſt through thy wilde behauiour
I be miſconſterd in the place I goe to,
And loose my hopes.

Gra. Signor *Baffanio*, heare me,

If I do not put on a ſober habite,
Telke with reſpect, and ſweare but now and than,
Weare prayer books in my pocket, Looke demurely,
Nay more, while grace is laying hood mine eyes
Thus with my hat, and ſigh and ſay Amen:
Vie all the obſeruance of ciuilltie

Like one well ſtudied in a ſad oſtent

To pleafe his Grandam, neuer truſt me more.

Baj. Well, we shall ſee your bearing.

Gra. Nay, but I barre to night, you ſhall not gage me
By what we doe to night.

Baj. No that were pittie,

I would intreate you rather to put on
Your boldeſt ſuite of mirth, for we haue friends
That purpòse merriment: but far you well,
I hate ſome buſineſſe.

Gra. And I muſt to Lorenzo and the reſt,

But we will viſite you at ſupper time.

Exeunt.

Enter *Ieffica* and the Clowne.

Ieff. I am ſorry thou wilt leaue my Father ſo,
Our house is hell, and thou a merrie diuell
Did't rob it of ſome taſte of tediousneſſe;
But far thee well, there is a ducat for thee,
And *Lancelet*, ſoone at ſupper ſhalt thou ſee
Lorenzo, who is thy new Maſters gueſt,
Gueſe him this Letter, doe it secretly,
And ſo farwell : I would not haue my Father
See me talke with thee.

Clo. Adue, teares exhibit my tongue, moſt beautiſull
Pagan, moſt sweete Iew, if a Chriſtian doe not play the
knave and get thee, I am much deceiued; but adue, theſe
foolſiſh drops doe ſomewhat drowne my manly ſpirit:
adue.

Exit.

Ieff. Farewell good *Lancelet*.

Alacke, what hainous finne is it in me
To be ſahamed to be my Fathers childe,
But though I am a daughter to his blood,
I am not to his manners: O Lorenzo,

If thou keepe promife I ſhall end this ſtrife,
Become a Chriſtian, and thy louing wife

Exit.

Enter *Gratiano*, *Lorenzo*, *Slarino*, and *Salavio*.

Lor. Nay, we will flinke away in ſupper time,
Difguife vs at my lodging, and returne all in an houre.
Gra. We haue not made good preparation.
Sal. We haue not spoke vs yet of Torch-bearers.

Sol. 'Tis vile vnleſſe it may be quaintly ordered,
And better in my minde not vnder tooke.

Lor. 'Tis now but foure of clock, we haue two hours
To furniſh vs; friend *Lancelet* what's the newes.

Enter *Lancelet* with a Letter.

Lau. And it ſhall please you to breake vp this, ſhall it
ſeeme to ſignifie.

Lor. I know the hand, in faith 'tis a faire hand
And whiter then the paper it writ on,
I the faire hand that writ.

Gra. Loue newes in faith.

Lan. By your leaue fir.

Lor. Whither goeſt thou?

Lan. Marry fir to bid my old Maſter the Iew to ſup
to night with my new Maſter the Chriſtian.

Lor. Hold here, take this, tell gentle *Ieffica*.

I will not faile her, I speake it priuately:
Go Gentlemen, will you prepare you for this Maske to
night,

I am prouided of a Torch-bearer.

Exit. *Clowne*.

Sol. I marry, ile be gone about it ſtraight.

Sol. And ſo will I.

Lor. Meete me and Gratianos at Gratianos lodging
Some houre hence.

Sal. 'Tis good we do ſo.

Exit.

Gra. Was not that Letter from faire *Ieffica*?

Lor. I muſt needes tell thee all, the hath directed
How I ſhall take her from her Fathers houſe,
What gold and iewels ſhe is ſutnife with,
What Pages ſuite ſhe hath in readineſſe:

If ere the Iew her Father come to heauen,

It will be for his gentle daughters ſake;

And neuer dare misfortune croſſe her ſoote,

Vnleſſe the doe it vnder this excuse,

That ſhe is iſſue to a faithleſſe Iew.

Come goe with me, pervſe this as thou goeſt,

Faire *Ieffica* shall be my Torch-bearer.

Exit.

Enter Iew, and his man that was the Clowne.

Iew. Well, thou ſhall fee, thy eyes ſhall be thy iudge,
The difference of old *Shyloekc* and *Baffanio*;
What *Ieffica*, thou ſhalt not gurmandize
As thou haſt done with me: what *Ieffica*?
And ſleepe, and ſnore, and rend apparell out.
Why *Ieffica* I ſay.

Clo. Why *Ieffica*.

Sby. Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call.

Clo. Your worſhip was want to tell me
I could doe nothing without bidding.

Enter *Ieffica*.

Ieff. Call you ? what is your will?

Sby. I am bid forth to ſupper *Ieffica*,
There are my Keyes: but wherefore should I go?
I am not bid for loue, they flatter me,
But yet Ie goe in hate, to feede vpon
The prodigall Christian. *Ieffica* my girtle,
Looke to my houſe, I am right loath to goe,
There is ſome ill a bruing towards my reſt,
For I did dreame of money bags to night.

Clo. I beſeech you fir goe, my yong Maſter
Doth expect your reproach.

Sby. So does I his.

Clo. And they have confired together, I will not ſay
you ſhall fee a Maske, but if you doe, then it was not for
nothing that my noſe ſell a bleeding on blacke monday

laſt,

The Merchant of Venice.

170

Iast, at fix a clocke iu morning, falling out that yeere on
afhweniday was foure yeare in th'afternoone.

Shy. What are their maskes? heare you me Iessica,
Lock vp my doores, and when you heare the drum
And the vile Quealing of the wry-neckt Fife,
Clamber not you vp to the cafements then,
Nor thrust your head into the publique freete
To gaze on Christian fooles with varnifht faces:
But Hop my houfes eares, I meane my cafements,
Let not the found of shallow fopperie enter
My fober houfe. By Iacobs staffe I weare,
I haue no minde of fealting forth to night:
But I will goe : goe you before me firra,
Say I will come.

Clo. I will goe before fir.
Miftris looke out at window for all this;
There will come a Christian by,
Will be worth a Iewes eye.

Shy. What faies that foole of Hagars off-spring?
ha.

Ief. His words were farewell miftris, nothing else.

Shy. The patch is kindle enough, but a huge feeder :
Snaile-flow in profit, but he fleepes by day
More then the wilde-cat: drones hime not with me,
Therefore I part with him, and part with him
To one that I would haue him helpe to waſte
His borrowed purſe. Well Ieffica goe in,
Perhaps I will returne immediately.

Doe as I bid you, but dores after you, faſt binde, faſt
finde.

A prouerbe neuer ſale in thriftie minde. Exit.

Ief. Farewell, and if my fortune be not croſt,
I haue a Father, you a daughter loft. Exit.

Enter the Maskers, Gratiano and Salino.

Gra. This is the penthouse vnder which Lorenzo
Desired vs to make a ſtand.

Sal. His houre is almoſt paſt.

Gra. And it is meruail he out-dwels his houre,
For louers euer run before the clocke.

Sal. O ten times after Venus Pidgions flye
To feale loues bonds new made, then they are wont
To keepe obliged faith vnforfailed.

Gra. That euer holds, who riferth from a feaſt
With that keene appetite that he fits downe ?
Where is the horſe that doth vntread against
His tedious meaſures with the vnbaſt fire,
That he did pace them first: all things that are,
Are with more ſpirit chafed then enjoyed.
How like a younger or a prodigall
The skatfed barke puts from her native bay,
Hudg'd and embraced by the fltrumpet winde:
How like a prodigall doth ſhe returne
With ouer-wither'd ribs and ragged ſailes,
Leane, rent, and begger'd by the fltrumpet winde?

Enter Lorenzo.

Salino. Heere comes Lorenzo, more of this here-
after.

Lor. Sweete friends, your patience, for my long a-
bode,
Not I, but my affaires haue made you wait:

When you shall please to play the theeuces for wiuſes
Ile watch as long for you then: approach

Here dwels my father Iew. Hoa, who's within?

Ieffisa abone.

Ieſ. Who are you? tell me for more certainty,
Albeit Ile ſweare that I do know your tongue.

Lor. Lorenzo, and thy Loue.

Ieſ. Lorenzo certaine, and my loue indeed,
For who loue I so much? and now who knowes
But you Lorenzo, whether I am yours?

Lor. Heauen and thy thoughts are witneſs that thou
art.

Ieſ. Heere, catch this casket, it is worth the paines,
I am glad it night, you do not looke on me,
For I am much aſham'd of my exchange:
But loue is blinde, and louers cannot fee
The pretty follies that themſelues commit,
For if they could, Cupid himſelfe would blush
To fee me thus transformed to a boy.

Lor. Deſcend, for you muſt be my torch-bearer.

Ieſ. What, muſt I hold a Candle to my ſhames?
They in themſelues goodſooth are too too light.

Why, 'tis an office of diſcouery Loue,
And I should be obſcur'd.

Lor. So you are ſweet,
Euen in the louely garniſh of a boy: but come at once,
For the cloſe night doth play the run-away,
And we are ſtaid for at Baffanio's ſeaft.

Ieſ. I will make faſt the doores and guild my ſelſe
With some more ducars, and be with you ſtraight.

Gra. Now by my hood, a gentle, and no Iew.

Lor. Befrew me but I loue her heartily.
For ſhe is wife, if I can iudge of her,
And faire ſhe is, if that mine eyes be true,
And true ſhe is, as ſhe hath prou'd her ſelſe:
And therefore like her ſelſe, wife, faire, and true,
Shall ſhe be placed in my conſtant ſoule.

Enter Ieffica.

What, art thou come? on gentlemen, away,
Our masking mates by this time for vs ſtay.

Exit.

Enter Anthony.

Ant. Who's there?

Gra. Signior Anthony?

Ant. Fie, ſie, Gratiano, where are all the reſt?
'Tis nine a clocke, our friends all ſtay for you,
No maske to night, the winde is come about,
Baffanio prefently will goe aboard,
I haue ſent twenty out to ſeeke for you.

Gra. I am glad on't, I defire no more delight
Then to be vnder ſaile, and goe to night.

Exeunt.

Enter Portia with Morrocho, and both their traineſt.

Por. Goe, draw aside the curtaines, and diſcouer
The feueral Caskets to this noble Prince:
Now make your choyſe.

Mor. The first of gold, who this inſcription beares,
Who chooseth me, ſhall gaine what men defire.
The ſecond fluer, which this promife carries,
Who chooseth me, ſhall get as much as he defuſes.
This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt,
Who chooseth me, muſt giue and hazard all he hath.
How ſhall I know if I doe choose the right?

Por. The

The Merchant of Venice.

171

How shall I know if I doe choose the right?

Por. The one of them contains my picture Prince,
If you choose that, then I am yours with all.

Mor. Some God direct my judgement, let me see,
I will furay the inscriptions, backe againe :

What faies this leaden casket ?

Who chooseth me, muft giue and hazard all he hath.

Muft giue, for what ? for lead, hazard for lead?

This casket threatens men that hazard all

Doc in hope of faire aduantages :

A golden minde stoppes not to showes of droffe,
Ile then nor giue nor hazard ought for lead.

What faies the Siluer with her virgin hue?

Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deferues.

As much as he deferues; paule there Moroche,

And weigh thy value with an euen hand,

If thou beest rated by thy effimation

Thou doost deferue enough, and yet enough

Not may not extend to farre as to the Ladie :

And yet to be afeard of my deferuing,
Were but a weake disabling of my selfe.

As much as I deferue, why that's the Lady.

I doe in birth deferue her, and in fortunes,

In graces, and in qualities of breeding :

But more then these, in loue I doe deferue.

What if I strai'd no farther, but chose here ?

Let's see once more this faying grau'd in gold.

Who chooseth me shall gaine what many men define:

Why that's the Lady, all the world defires her :

From the foure corners of the earth they come

To kiſe this ſhrine, this mortall breathing Saint.

The Hircanian deſerts, and the vaſte wildes

Of wide Arabia are as throughfares now

For Princes to come view faire Portia.

The waterie Kingdome, whose ambitious head

Spets in the face of heauen, is no barre

To ſtop the forraine ſpirits, but they come

As ore a brooke to see faire Portia.

One of these three containes her heauely picture.

Is't like that Lead contains her?twere damnation

To thinke so bafe a thought, it were too groſe

To rib her ſearecloath in the obſcure graue :

Or ſhall I thinke in Siluer ſhe's immur'd

Being ten times vndervalued to tride gold ;

O sinfull thought, neuer so rich a lem

Was fet in worſe then gold? They haue in England

A coyne that beares the figure of an Angell

Stampt in gold, but that's inſculpt vpon :

But here an Angell in a golden bed

Lies all within. Deliuer me the key :

Here doe I choose, and thriue I as I may.

Por. There take it Prince, and if my forme ly there
Then I am yours.:

Mor. Oh! hell! what haue we here, a carrion death,
Within whose empty eye there is a written ſcroule ;
Ile reade the writing.

All that glisters is not gold,
Often hane you heard that told;

Many a man his life hath fold

But my outside to behold;

Gilded timber doe wormes infold:

Had you beene as wife as bold,
Yong in limbs, in judgement old,
Tour anſwere had not beene inſcroſt,
Farewell, your ſnite is cold,

Mor. Cold indeede, and labour loft,
Then farewell heate, and welcome froſt:

Portia adew, I haue too grieu'd a heart

To take a tedious leaque : thus loofers part.

Por. A gentle riddance : draw the curtaines, go :

Let all of his complexion choose me so.

Enter Salarino and Solano.

Flo. Cornets.

Sal. Why man I saw Baffanio vnder ſayle,
With him is Gratiano gone along,

And in their ſhip. I am ſure Lorenzo is not.

Sol. The villaine Iew with outcries raſd the Duke.
Who went with him to ſearch Baffanios ſhip.

Sal. He comes too late, the ſhip was vnderſaile;

But there the Duke was giuen to vnderſand

That in a Gondilo were leene together

Lorenzo and his amorous leſſica.

Besides, Anthonio certified the Duke

They were not with Baffanio in his ſhip.

Sol. I neuer heard a paſſion so confused,
So ſtrange, outragious, and so variable,

As the dogge Iew did vetter in the streets;

My daughter, O my ducats, O my daughter,

Fled with a Chriſtian, O my Chriſtian ducats !

Iuſtice, the law, my ducats, and my daughter;

A ſealed bag, two ſealed bags of ducats,

Of double ducats, ſtolne from me by my daughter,

Of jewels, two ſtones, two rich and precious ſtones,

Stolne by my daughter : iuſtice, finde the girle,

She hath the ſtones vpon her, and the ducats.
Sol. Why all the boyes in Venice follow him,

Crying his ſtones, his daughter, and his ducats.
Sol. Let good Anthonio looke he keepe his day
Or he shall pay for this.

Sal. Marry well remembred,
I reaſon'd with a Frenchman yesterday,
Who told me, in the narrow ſeas that part
The French and English, there miſcaried
A veſſell of our countrey richly fraught :
I thought vpon Anthonio when he told me,
And wſiſt in filence that it were not his.

Sol. Yo were beſt to tell Anthonio what you heare.
Yet doe not ſuddainely, for it may grieue him.

Sal. A kinder Gentleman treads not the earth,
I saw Baffanio and Anthonio part,

Baffanio told him he would make ſome ſpeede

Of his returne : he anſwered, doe not so,

Slubber not buſinesſe for my ſake Baffanio,

But ſtay the very riping of the time,

And for the Iewer bond which he hath of me,

Let it not enter in your minde of loue:

Be merry, and imploy your chieſe thoughts

To courtship, and luch faire oſtents of loue

As ſhall condueniently become you there ;

And euen there his eye being big with teares,

Turning his face, he put his hand behinde him,

And with affection wondrous ſencible

He wrung Baffanios hand, and ſo they parted.

Sol. I thinke he onely loues the world for him,
I pray thee let vs goe and finde him out

And quicken his embraced heauinſe

Wit a ſome delight or other.

Sal. Doe we so.

Exeunt.

Enter Nerriffia and a Servituse.

Ner. Quick, quick I pray thee, draw the curtain ſtraight,
The

The Merchant of Venice.

172

The Prince of Arragon hath sane his oath,
And comes to his election prefently.

Enter Arragon, his traine, and Portia.

Flor. Cornets.

Por. Behold, there stand the caskets noble Prince,
If you choose that wherein I am contain'd,
Straight shall our nuptiall rights be solemniz'd:
But if thou faile, without more speech my Lord,
You muft be gone from hence immediately.

Ar. I am enioynd by oath to obferue three things:
First, neuer to unfold to any one

Which casket was I choſe; next, if I faile

Of the right casket, neuer in my life

To wooe a maide in way of marriage:

Laftly, if I doe faile in fortune of my choyſe,

Immediately to leaue you, and be gone.

Por. To theſe iniuunctions euery one doth ſweare
That comes to hazard for my worthleſſe ſelfe.

Ar. And for haue I addreſſ me, fortune now
To my hearts hope: gold, filuer, and baſe lead.

Who chooſeth me muſt giue and hazard all he hath.

You ſhall looke fairer ere I giue or hazard.

What faies the golden cheth, ha, let me ſee :

Who chooſeth me, ſhall gaine what many men defire:

What many men defire, that many may be meant

By the ſoole multitude that chooſe by ſhow,

Not learning more then the fond eye doth teach,

Which pries not to th'interior, but like the Martlet

Builds in the weather on the outward wall,

Euen in the force and rode of caſualtie.

I will not chooſe what many men defire,

Because I will not itumpe with common ſpirits,

And ranke me with the barbarous multitudes.

Why then to thee that Silver treaſure houſe,

Tell me once more, what title thou dooſt beare;

Who chooſeth me ſhall get as much as he deferues :

And well faid too; for who ſhall goe about

To cofen Fortune, and be honourable

Without the ſtampe of merrit, let none preſume

To weare an vndeſerued dignitie :

O that eſtates, degrees, and offices,

Were not deriu'd corruptly, and that cleare honour

Were purchaſt by the merrit of the wearer ;

How many then ſhould couer that ſtand bare?

How many be commanded that command?

How much low pleaſantly would then be gleaned

From the true ſeede of honor ? And how much honor

Pickt from the chaffe and ruine of the times,

To be new vamſiſt: Well, but to my choiſe.

Who chooſeth me ſhall get as much as he deferues,

I will allume defert; giue me a key for this,

And inſtantly unlocke my fortunes here.

Por. Too long a pause for that which you finde there.

Ar. What's here, the portrait of a blinking idiot

Prefenting me a ſchedule, I will reade it :

How much vnlike art thou to Portia?

How much vnlike my hopes and my deferuings?

Who chooſeth me, ſhall haue as much as he deferues.

Did I deferue no more then a ſoole head,

Is that my prize, are my deferts no better?

Por. To offend and iudge are diſtinct offices,
And of oppoſed natures.

Ar. What is here?

The ſier ſeauen times tried this,

Seauen times tried that indument is,

That did neuer chooſe amis,

Some there be that shadowes killſe,

Suche haue but a shadowes bliffe :

There be ſoolemes alive Iuſt

Silver'd ore, and so was this:

Take what wife you will to bed,

I will euer be your head:

So be gone, you are ſped.

Ar. Still more ſoole I ſhall appeare

By the time I linger here,

With one ſoole head I came to woo,

But I goe away with two.

Sweet adue, Ile keepe my oath,

Patiently to beare my wroath.

Por. Thus hath the candle ſing'd the moath:

O theſe deliberate ſoole when they doe chooſe,

They haue the wifdome by their wit to looke.

The ancient ſaying is no hereſie,

Hanging and wiuing goes by deſtinie.

Por. Come draw the curtaine Nerriffa.

Enter Mefſenger.

Mef. Where is my Lady?

Por. Here, what would my Lord?

Mef. Madam, there is a ſlighted at your gate

A yong Venetian, one that comes before

To ſignifie th'approaching of his Lord,

From whom he bringeth ſenible regreets ;

To wit (befides commends and curteous breath)

Gifts of rich value; yet I haue not feene

So likely an Embaſſador of loue.

A day in Aprill neuer came so ſweere

To ſhow how costly Sommer was at hand,

As this fore-spurrer comes before his Lord.

Por. No more I pray thee, I am halſe a-feard

Thou wilt ſay anone he is ſome kin to thee,

Thou ſpend it ſuch high-day wit in praiing him:

Come, come Nerriffa, for I long to ſee

Quicke Cupids Poſt, that comes ſo manerly.

Ner. Baffanio Lord, loue if thy will be.

Exenunt,

Actus Tertius.

Enter Solanio and Salarino.

Sol. Now, what newes on the Ryalto?

Sal. Why yet it liues there vncheckt, that Anthonie
hath a ſhip of rich lading wrackt on the narrow seas;
the Goodwins I thinke they call the place, a very dangerous
flat, and fatall, where the carcaſſes of many a tall ſhip, lye
buried, as they ſay, if my goſſips report be an honest wo-
man of her word.

Sol. I would ſhe were as lying a goſſip in that, as euſer
knapt Ginger, or made her neighbours beleeue ſhe wept
for the death of a third husband: but it is true, without
any slips of prolixy, or croſſing the plaine high-way of
talke, that the good Anthonie, the honest Anthonio; that
I had a title good enough to keepe his name company!

Sal. Come, the full ſtop.

Sol. Ha, what ſayeſt thou, why the end is, he hath loſt
a ſhip.

Sal. I

The Merchant of Venice.

173

Sal. I would it might proue the end of his loffes.

Sol. Let me say Amen betimes, leaſt the diuell croſſe my praier, for here he comes in the ikeines of a Jew. How now Shylocke, what newes among the Merchants of Venice?

Enter Shylocke.
Shy. You knew none for well, none so well as you, of my daughters flight.

Sol. That's certaine, I for my part knew the Tailor that made the wings the flew withall.

Sol. And Shylocke for his own part knew the bird was fledg'd, and then it is the complexion of them to leade the dam.

Shy. She is damn'd for it.

Sol. That's certaine, if the diuell may be her Judge.

Shy. My owne fleſh and blood to rebell.

Sol. Out vpon it old carrion, rebels it at theſe yeeres.

Shy. I say my daughter is my fleſh and blood.

Sol. There is more difference betweene thy fleſh and hers, then betweene ler and Iuorie, more betweene your bloods, then there is betweene red wine and remitti: but tell vs, doe yon heare whether Anthony haue had anie loſſe at fea or no?

Shy. There I haue another bad match, a bankrout, a prodigall, who dare ſcarce ſhew his head on the Ryalto, a begger that was vſd to come ſo ſing vpon the Mart: let him look to his bond, he was want to call me Vfurer, let him looke to his bond, he was want to lend money for a Chriſtian curſie, let him looke to his bond.

Sol. Why I am ſure if he forſaite, thou wilt not take his fleſh, what's that good for?

Shy. To baite ſilh withall, if it will feede nothing else, it will feede my reuence; he hath diſgrac'd me, and hindred me halſe a million, laught at my loſſes, mockt at my gaines, ſcorned my Nation, thwarted my bargaines, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies, and what's the reaſon? I am a Iewe: Hath not a Iew eyes? hath not a Iew hands, organs, dementions, ſences, affections, paffions, ſed with the fame foode, hurt with the fame weakons, ſubieſt to the fame diſeafeſ, healed by the fame meanes, warmed and cooled by the fame Winter and Sommer as a Chriſtian is: if you pricke vs doe we not bleede? if you tickle vs, doe we not laugh? if you poifon vs doe we not die? and if you wrong vs shall we not reuenge? if we are like you in the reſt, we will reſemble you in that. If a Iew wrong a Chriſtian, what is his humilität, reuence? If a Chriſtian wrong a Iew, what should his ſufferance be by Chriſtian example, why reuence? The vilanie you teach me I will execute, and it ſhall goe hard but I will better the inſtruction.

Enter a man from Anthony.

Gentlemen, my maſter Anthony is at his house, and
defires to ſpeake with you both.

Sal. We haue beene vp and downe to ſeeke him.
Enter Tuball.

Sol. Here comes another of the Tribe, a third cannot be matcht, vnleſſe the diuell himselfe turne Iew.

Exeunt Gentlemen.

Shy. How now Tuball, what newes from Genoway? haſt thou found my daughter?

Tub. I often came where I did heare ofſter, but cannot finde her.

Shy. Why there, there, there, a diamond gone cost me two thouſand ducats in Franckford, the curſe neuer ſell vpon our Nation till now, I neuer felt it till now, two thouſand ducats in that, and other precious, preci-

ous iewels: I would my daughter were dead at my foot, and the iewels in her eare: would the werell earſt at my foote, and the duckets in her coffin: no newes of them, why ſo and I know not how much is ſpent in the ſearch? why thou loſſe vpon loſſe, the theſe: gone with so much, and so much to finde the theſe, and no ſatisfation, no reuence, nor no ill luck ſtriring but what lighſt a my shoulders, no ſighſes but a my shedding.

Tub. Yes, other men haue ill lucke too, Anthony as I heard in Genoway?

Shy. What, what, what, ill lucke, ill lucke.

Tub. Hath an Argosie caſt away comming from Tri-
polis.

Shy. I thanke God, I thanke God, is it true, is it true?

Tub. I spoke with ſome of the Saylers that eſcaped the wracke.

Shy. I thanke thee good Tuball, good newes, good newes: ha, ha, here in Genoway.

Tub. Your daughter ſpent in Genoway, as I heard, one night ſourefcore ducats.

Shy. Thou flickſt a dagger in me, I ſhall neuer ſee my gold againe, ſourefcore ducats at aſitting, ſourefcore ducats.

Tub. There came diuers of Anthony's creditors in my company to Venice, that ſware hee cannot choose but breake.

Shy. I am very glad of it, ile plague him, ile torture him, I am glad of it.

Tub. One of them ſhewed me a ring that hee had of your daughter for a Monkie.

Shy. Out vpon her, thou torturſt me. Tuball, it was my Turkies, I had it of Leah when I was a Batchele: I would not haue giuen it for a wilderneſſ of Monkies.

Tub. But Anthony is certainly vndone.

Shy. Nay, that's true, that's very true, goe Tuball, ſee me an Officer, beſpeake him a fortnight before, I will haue the heart of him if he forfeit, for were he out of Venice, I can make what merchandize I will: goe Tuball, and meete me at our Sinagogue, goe good Tuball, at our Sinagogue Tuball.

Exeunt.

Enter Baffanio, Portia, Gratiano, and all their traine.

Por. I pray you tarrie, paule a day or two
Before you hazard, for in chooſing wrong
I loofe your companie; therefore forbeare a while,
There's ſomething tels me (but it is not lounge)
I would not looke you, and you know your ſelfe,
Hate counſailles not in ſuch a quallity;
But least you should not vnderſtand me well,
And yet a maiden hath no tongue, but thought,
I would detaine you here ſome month or two
Before you venture for me. I could teach you
How to choose right, but then I am forſworne,
So will I neuer be, so may you miffme;
But if you doe, youle make me wifh a finne,
That I had beene forſworne: Beflow your eyes,
They haue ore-lookt me and deuided me,
One halſe of me is yours, the other halſe yours,
Mine owne I would ſay: but of mine then yours,
And fo all yours: O theſe naughtie times
Puts bars betweene the owners and their rights,
And fo though yours, not yours (proue it ſo)
Let Fortune goe to hell for it, not I.
I ſpeake too long, but 'tis to peize the time,
To ich it, and to draw it out in length,
To stay you from election.

P 3

Baff. Let

The Merchant of Venice..

174

Bass. Let me choose,
For as I am, I liee vpon the racke.

Por. Vpon the racke Baffanio, then confesse
What treafon there is mingled with your loue.

Bass. None but that vgly treafon of mistry.
Which makes me feare the enioying of my loue:
There may as well be amitie and life,

Tweene now and fire, as treafon and my loue:

Por. I, but I feare you (speake vpon the racke)
Where men enforced doth speake any thing.

Bass. Promife me life, and ile confesse the truth.

Por. Well then, confesse and lieue.

Bass. Confesse and loue

Had beene the verie turn of my confection:
Ohappie torment, when my torturer
Doth teach me anfwers for deliverance:
But let me to my fortune and the caskets.

Por. Away then, I am lockt in one of them,
If you doe loue me, you will finde me out.

Neriffia and the reft, stand all aloofe,
Let muſicke found while he doth make his choife,
Then if he loofe he makes a Swan-like end,

Fading in muſique. That the comparifon
May stand more proper, my eye shall be the fireme
And watrie death-bed for him: he may win,
And what is muſique than? Than muſique is
Euen as the flourish, when true ſubieſts bowe

To a new crowned Monarch: Such it is,
As are those dulcet founds in breake of day,
That creepe into the dreaming bride-groomes care,
And ſummon him to marriage. Now he goes
With no leſſe prefence, but with much more loue
Then yong Aleides, when he did redeem
The virgine tribute, paied by howling Troy
To the Sea-monſter: I ſtand for ſacrifice,
The reſt aloofe are the Dardanian wiuſes:
With bleared viſages come forth to view
The iſſe of th'exploit: Goe Hercules,
Lieu thou, I lieue with much more diliday
I view the fight, then thou that mak'st the fray.

Here Mufickes.

A Song the whilſt Baffanio comments on the
Caskets to himſelfe.

Tell me where is fancie bred,
Or in the heart, or in the head :

How begot, how nauiſhed,

It is engendred in the eyes,
With gazing ſed, and Fancie dies,

In the cradle where it lies :

Let us allring Fancies knell.

Ile begin it.

Ding, dong, bell.

All. Ding, dong, bell.

Bass. So may the outward ſhowes be leaſt themſelues
The world is ſill deceu'd with ornament.
In Law, what Plea ſo tanted and corrupt,
But being ſeafon'd with a gracious voice,
Obſcures the ſhow of euill? In Religion,
What damned error, but ſome ſober brow
Will bleſſe it, and approue it with a text,
Hiding the groſenſe with faire ornament:
There is no voice ſo ſimple, but alluſes
Some marke of vertue on his outward parts;

How manie cowards, whoſe hearts are all as false
As flayers of sand, weare yet vpon their chins

The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars,
Who inward feareth, haue lyuers white as milke,
And theſe allume but valors extrement,

To render them redoubted. Looke on beautie,
And you ſhall fee't purchase by the weight,
Which therein workes a miracle in nature,

Making them lighteſt that weare moſt of it :

So are those crifped ſnake golden locks

Which makes ſuch wanton gambols with the winde
Vpon ſuppoſed faireneſſe, often knowne

To be the dowrie of a ſecond head,

The ſcull that bred them in the Sepulcher,

Thus ornament is but the guiled ſhore

To a moſt dangerous ſea: the beautious ſcarſe

Vailing an Indian beautit; In a word,

The feeming truth which cunning times put on

To intrap the wifet. Therefore then thou gaudie gold,
Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee,
Nor none of thee pale and common drudge
T'weene man and man : but thou, thou meager lead
Which rather threatneſt then doſt promise ought,
Thy palenſe moues me more then eloquence,
And here choose I,oy be the conſequence.

Por. How all the other paffions fleet to ayre,
As doubtfull thoughts, and rath imbrac'd delpaire:

And hudding ſeare, and greene-eyed icalouſe.

I loue be moderate, allay thy extaſſe,

In meaſure raine thy ioy, ſcant this exceſſe,
I feele too much thy bleſſing, make it leſſe,
For feare I ſurſeit.

Bass. What finde I here?

Faire Portias counterfeit. What demic God

Hath come ſo neere creation ? moue theſe eies?

Or whether riding on the bals of mine

Seeme they in motion? Here are ſeuer'd lips

Parted with ſuger breath, to ſweet a barre

Should ſunder ſuch ſweet friends: here in her haires

The Painter plaies the Spider, and hath wouen

A golden meſh t'intrap the hearts of men

Falter then gnats in cobwebs: but her eies,

How could he fee to doe them? hauing made one,

Me thinkes it ſhould haue power to ſteale both his

And leaue it ſelſe vnſurniſt: Yet looke how farre

The ſubſtance of my prouſe doth wrong this ſhadow
In vnderpriling it, to farre this ſhadow

Doth limpe behinde the ſubſtance. Here's the ſcroule,
The continent, and ſummarie of my fortune.

You that choose not by the view

Chance as faire, and choose as true:

Since this fortune fails to you,

Be content, and feeke no new.

If you be well pleaf'd with this,

And hold your fortune for your bliffe,
Turne you where your Lady is,

And clauſe her with a louing kiffe.

Bass. A gentle ſcroule: Faire Lady, by your leaues,
I come by note to giue, and to receive,
Like one of two contending in a prize
That thinks he hath done well in peoples eies:
Hearing applaue and vnuerall ſhout,
Giddie in ſpirit, till gazing in a doubt,
Whether those peales of prouſe be his or no.

50

The Merchant of Venice.

175

So thrice faire Lady I stand I euen so,
As doubtfull whether what I fee be true,
Vntill confirm'd, sign'd, ratified by you.

Por. You fee my Lord. *Bassiano* where I stand,
Such as I am ; though for my selfe alone
I would not be ambitious in my wish,
To wish my selfe much better, yet for you,
I would be trebled twenty times my selfe,
A thousand times more faire, ten thousand times
More rich, that onely to stand high in your account,
I might in vertues, beauties, liuings, friends,
Exceed account : but the full summe of me
Is sum of nothing: which to terme in groſſe,
Is an vnleſſon'd girl, vnſchool'd, vnpractiz'd,
Happy in this, she is not yet so old
But she may learne : happier then this,
Shee is not bred so dull but she may learne;
Happieſt of all, is that her gentle ſpirit
Commits it ſelfe to yours to be directed,
As from her Lord, her Gouernour, her King.
My ſelfe, and what is mine, to you and yours
Is now conuerced. But now I was the Lord
Of this faire manion, maſter of my ſeruants,
Queene ore my ſelfe: and euen now, but now.
This houſe, the ſeruants, and this fame my ſelfe
Are yours, my Lord, I give them with this ring,
Which when you part from, loofe, or give away,
Let it preſage the ruine of your loue,
And be my vantage to exclaime on you.

Bass. Maddam, you haue bereſt me of all words,
Onely my bloud ſpeakes to you in my vaines,
And there is ſuch conſuption in my powers,
As after ſome oration fairely ſpoke
By a beloved Prince, there doth appeare
Among the buzzing pleafed multitude,
Where euery ſomething being blent together,
Turnes to a wilde of nothing, ſaue of ioy
Expreſſ, and not expreſt: but when this ring
Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence,
O then be bold to ſay *Bassanio's* dead.

Ner. My Lord and Lady, it is now our time
That haue ſlood by and ſeene our wishes proper,
To cry good ioy, good ioy my Lord and Lady.

Gra. My Lord *Bassanio*, and my gentle Lady,
I wish you all the ioy that you can with :
For I am ſure you can with none from me :
And when your Honours meane to ſolemnize
The bargaine of your faith: I doe beſeech you
Euen at that time I may be married too.

Bass. With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife.

Gra. I thanke your Lordship, you gave me one.
My eyes my Lord can looke as ſwift as yours:
You ſaw the miſtres, I beheld the maid :
You lou'd, I lou'd for intermiſion,
No more pertaines to me my Lord then you :
Your fortune ſlood vpon the caskets there,
And ſo did mine too, as the matter falls :
For wooing heere vntill I ſwet againe,
And ſwearing till my very rough was dry
With oathes of loue, at laſt, if promife laſt,
I got a promife of this faire one heere
To haue her loue : prouided that your fortune
Atchieu'd her miſtreſſe.

Por. Is this true *Neriffia*?

Ner. Madam it is so, to you ſtand pless'd with all.

Bass. And doc you Gratiano meane good faith?

Gra. Yes faith my Lord.

Bass. Our feast shall be much honored in your mar-
riage.

Gra. Weele play with them the firſt boy for a thou-
ſand ducats.

Ner. What and ſtake downe?

Gra. No, we ſhal nere win at that ſport; and ſtake
downe.

But who comes heere? Lorenzo and his Infidel?
What and my old Venetian friend *Salerie*?

Enter Lorenzo, Ieffica, and Salerie.

Bass. Lorenzo and *Salerie*, welcome hether,
If that the youth of my new intereſt heere
Haue power to bid you welcome: by your leaue
I bid my verie friends and Countrimen
Sweet *Portia* welcome.

Por. So do I my Lord, they are intirely welcome.

Lor. I thanke your honer; for my part my Lotd,
My purpoe was not to haue ſeene you heere,
But meeting with *Salerie* by the way,
He did intreat mee paſt all ſaying nay
To come with him along.

Sal. I did my Lord,
And I haue reaſon for it, Signior *Anthonie*
Commends him to you.

Bass. Ere I ope his Letter
I pray you tell me how my good friend doth:
Sal. Not ſicke my Lord, vnleſſe it be in minde,
Nor wel, vnleſſe in minde : his Letter there
Wil ſhow you his eſtate.

Opens the Letter.

Bass. Neriffia, cheere yond ſtranger, bid her welcom.
Your hand *Salerie*, what's the newes from Venice?
How doth that royal Merchant good *Anthonio*:
I know he vvil be glad of our ſucceſſe,
We are the *Iaſons*, we haue won the ſleece.

Sal. I would you had vvon the ſleece that hee hath
loſt.

Por. There are ſome ſhewd contents in yond fame
Paper,
That ſteales the colour from *Bassianos* checke,
Some deere friend dead, elſe nothing in the world
Could turne ſo much the constitution
Of any conſtant man. What, worſe and worſe?
With leaue *Bassanio* I am halſe your ſelfe,
And I muſt freely haue the halſe of any thing
That this fame paper brings you:

Bass. O sweet *Portia*,
Heere are a ſew of the vnpleaſant ſt words
That euer blotted paper. Gentle Ladie
When I did firſt impart my loue to you,
I freely told you all the wealth I had
Ran in my vaines: I was a Gentleman,
And then I told you true : and yet deere Ladie,
Rating my ſelfe at nothing, you ſhall fee
How much I was a Braggart, when I told you
My ſtate was nothing, I ſhould then haue told you
That I vvas worſe then nothing : for indeede
I haue ingag'd my ſelfe to a deere friend,
Ingag'd my friend to his meere enemie
To feede my meanes. Heere is a Letter Ladie,
The paper as the bodie of my friend,
And euerie word in it a gaping wound
Iſſuing life blood. But is it true *Salerie*,

Hath

The Merchant of Venice.

176

Hath all his ventures faile, what not one hit,
From Tripolis, from Mexico and England,
From Lisbon, Barbary, and India,
And not one vessef ape the dreadfull touch
Of Merchant-marring rocks?

Sal. Not one my Lord.

Besides, it should appeare, that if he had
The prefent money to discharge the Iew,
He would not take it: neuer did I know
A creature that did beare the shape of man
So keene and greedy to confound a man.
He plyes the Duke at morning and at night,
And doth impeach the freedome of the ftafe
If they deny him iustice. Twenty Merchants,
The Duke himfelfe, and the Magnificoes
Of greatest port have all perfwaded with him,
But none can drue him from the enuious plea
Of forfeiture,of iustice, and his bond.

Jefſi. When I was with him, I haue heard him ſware
To Tuball and to Chus, his Countri-men,
That he would rather haue Anthony's fleſh,
Then twenty times the value of the ſumme
That he did owe him: and I know my Lord,
If law, authoritie, and power denie not,
It will goe hard with poore Anthony.

Por. Is it your deere friend that is thus in trouble?

Baff. The deereft friend to me, the kindeft man,
The beſt condition'd, and vnweared ſpirit
In doing curſeſes: and one in whom
The ancient Romane honour more appears
Then any that drawes breath in Italie.

Por. What ſumme owes he the Iew?

Baff. For me three thouſand ducats.

Por. What, no more?

Pay him ſixe thouſand, and deface the bond:
Double ſixe thouſand, and then treble that,
Before a friend of this deſcription
Shall lobe a haire through Baffano's fault.
First goe with me to Church, and call me wife,
And then away to Venice to your friend:
For neuer ſhall you lie by Portias ſide
With an vnquiet foule. You ſhall have gold
To pay the petty debt twenty times ouer.
When it is payd, bring your true friend along,
My maid Nerriffa, and my ſelfe meane time
Will liue as maids and widdowes; come away,
For you ſhall hence vpon your wedding day:
Bid your friends welcome, ſhow a merry cheere,
Since you are deere bought, I will loue you deere.
But let me heare the letter of your friend.

Sweet Baffanio, my ſhips have all miſcarried, my Credi-
tors grow cruell, my eſtate is very low, my bond to the Iew is
ſ forfeit, and ſince in paying it, it is imſpossible I should liue, all
debts are cleer betweene you and I, if I might ſee you at my
death: notwithſt standing, uſe your pleafure, if your love does not
perſwade you to come, let not my letter.

Por. O lone! diſpach all buſines and be gone.

Baff. Since I haue your good leaue to goe away,
I will make haſt; but till I come againe,
No bed ſhall ere be guilty of my ſtay,
Nor reſt be interpoſer twixt vs twaine.

Enter the Iew, and Solanio, and Anthonio,
and the Iaylor.

Iew. Iaylor, looke to him, tell not me of mercy,

This is the fool that lends out money gratis.
Iaylor, looke to him.

Ant. Heare me yet good Shyloک.

Iew. Ile haue my bond, ſpeake not againſt my bond,
I haue ſworne an oath that I will haue my bond:
Thou call'd me dog before thou hadt a caufe,
But ſince I am a dog, beware my phangs,
The Duke shall grant me iustice, I do wonder
Thou naughty Iaylor, that thou art so fond
To come abroad with him at his requeſt.

Ant. I pray thee heare me ſpeake.

Iew. Ile haue my bond, I will not heare thee ſpeake,
Ile haue my bond, and therefore ſpeake no more,
Ile not be made a ſoft and dull ey'd foolc,
To ſhake the head, ſelent, and ſigh, and yeeld
To Chriſtian interceſſors: follow not,
Ile haue no ſpeaking, I will haue my bond.

Exit Iew.
Sol. It is the moſt impenetrable curre
That euer kept with men.

Ant. Let him alone,

Ile follow him no more with bootleſſe prayers:
He ſeekes my life, his reaſon well I know;
I oft deliuer'd from his forfeitures
Many that haue at times made mone to me,
Therefore he hates me.

Sol. I am ſure the Duke will neuer grant
this forfeiture to hold.

Ant. The Duke cannot deny the courſe of law:
For the commoditie that flangers haue
With vs in Venice, if it be denied,
Will much impeach the iustice of the State,
Since that the trade and profit of the city
Conſiſteth of all Nations. Therefore goe,
These greeſes and loſſes haue ſo bated mee,
That I ſhall hardly ſpare a pound of fleſh
To morrow, to my bloudy Creditor.
Well Iaylor, on, pray God Baffanio come
To ſee me pay his debt, and then I care not.

Enter Portia, Nerriffa, Lorenzo, Ieffica, and a man of
Portias.

Lor. Madam, although I ſpeake it in your preſence,
You haue a noble and a true conceit
Of god-like amity, which appears moſt strongly
In bearing thus the abſence of your Lord.
But if you knew to whom you ſhew this honour,
How true a Gentleman you ſend reeſeſe,
How deere a louer of my Lord your husband,
I know you would be prouder of the worke
Then cuſtome bounty can enforce you,

Por. I neuer did repent for doing good,
Nor ſhall not now: for in companions
That do conuerſe and waſte the timetogother,
Whose ſoules doe beare an egal yoke of loue,
There muſt be needs a like proportion
Of lynyaments, of manners, and of ſpirit;
Which makes me thinke that this Anthonio
Being the boſome louer of my Lord,
Muſt needs be like my Lord. If it be so,
How little is the coſt I haue beſtowed
In purchasing the ſemblance of my ſoule;
From out the ſtate of helliſh cruelty,
This comes too neere the praiſing of my ſelfe;
Therefore no more of it: heere other things
Loreſe I, commit into your hands,

The

The Merchant of Venice.

177

The husbandry and mannage of my house,
Vntill my Lords returne; for mine owne part
I haue toward heauen breath'd a secret vow,

I haue toward heauen breath'd a secret vow,
To liue in prayer and contemplation,
Onely attended by Neriffa heere,

Vntill her husband and my Lords returne:
There is a monafity too miles off;

And there we will abide, I doe define you

Not to deme this impofition,

The which my loue and home neceffity

Now layes vpon you.

Lorenſ. Madame, with all my heart,
I ſhall obey you in all faire commands.

Por. My people doe already know my minde,
And will acknowledge you and Jeſſica

In place of Lord Baſſario and my selfe.

So far you well till we ſhall meete againe.

Lor. Faire thoughts & happy hours attend on you.

Jeſſi. I wif your Ladifhip all hearts content.

Por. I thanke you for your wifh, and am well pleas'd
To wifh it backe on you: faryouwell Jeſſica.
Exeunt.

Now Balthaſer, as I haue euer found thee honest true,
So let me finde thee still: take this fame letter,

And vſe thou all the indeauor of a man,

In ſpeed to Mantua, fee thou render this

Into my cofins hand, Doctor Belaria,

And looke what notes and garments he doth giue thee,

Bring them I pray thee with imagin'd ſpeed

Vnto the Tranct, to the common Ferrie

Which trades to Venice; wafe no time in words,

But get thee gone, I shall be there before thee.

Balth. Madam, I goe with all consequent ſpeed.

Por. Come on Neriffa, I haue worke in hand

That you yet know not of; wee'll fee our husbands

Before they thinke of vs?

Neriffa. Shall they fee vs?

Portia. They ſhall Neriffa; but in such a habit,

That they ſhall thinke we are accomplished

With that we lacke; Ile hold thee any wager

When we are both accoutered like yong men,

Ile proue the prettiest fellow of the two,

And weare my dagger with the brauer grace,

And ſpeake betweene the change of man and boy,

With a reede voyce, and turne two minſing ſteps

Into a manly ſtride; and ſpeake of frayes

Like a fine bragging youth: and tell quaint lyes

How honourable Ladies fought my loue,

Which I denying, they fell ſicke and died.

I could not doe withall: then Ile repent,

And wifh for all that, that I had not kil'd them;

And twentie of theſe punie lies Ile tell,

That men ſhall ſweare I haue discontinued schoole

Aboue a twelve moneth: I haue within my minde

A thouſand raw tricks of theſe bragging lacks,

Which I will præſeife.

Neriff. Why, I shall wee turne to men?

Portia. Fie, what a queſtions that?

If thou wert nere a lewd interpreter :

But come, Ile tell thee all my whole deuice

When I am in my coach, which ſtayes for vs

At the Parke gate; and therefore hafte away,

For we muſt measure twentie miles to day.

Exeunt.

Enter Clowne and Jeſſica.

Clown. Yes truly; for looke you, the finnes of the Fa-

ther are to be laid vpon the children, therefore I promife
you, I feare you, I was alwaies plaine with you, and to
now I ſpeake my agitation of the matter : therefore be of
good cheere, for truly I thinke you are damnd', there is
but one hope in it that can doe you anie good, and that is
but a kinde of baſtard hope neither.

Jeſſica. And what hope is that I pray thee?

Clown. Marrie you may partlie hope that your father
got you not, that you are not the Iewes daughter.

Jeſ. That were a kinde of baſtard hope indeed, so the
fins of my mother should be vſited vpon me.

Clown. Truly then I feare you are damned both by fa-
ther and mother: thus when I ſhun Scilla your father, I
fall into Charibdis your mother; well, you are gone both
waies.

Jeſ. I ſhall be ſau'd by my husband, he hath made me
a Chriſtian.

Clown. Truly the more to blame he, we were Chriſtians enow before, e ne as many as could well ieue one by a nother : this making of Chriſtians will raife the price of Hogs, if wee grow all to be porke-eaters, wee ſhall not ſhortlie haue a rafher on the coales for money.

Enter Lorenzo.

Jeſ. Ile tell my husband Lancelet what you ſay, heere
he comes.

Loren. I ſhall grow jealous of you shortly Lancelet,
if you thus get my wife into corners?

Jeſ. Nay, you need not feare vs Lorenzo, Launcelet
and I are out, he tells me flatly there is no mercy for me
in heauen, becauſe I am a Iewes daughter: and hee ſaies
you are no good member of the common wealth, for
in conuerting Iewes to Chriſtians, you raife the price
of Porke.

Loren. I ſhall anſwere that better to the Common-
wealth, than you can the getting vp of the Negroes bel-
lie: the Moore is with childe by you Launcelet?

Clown. It is much that the Moore ſhould be more then
reafon: but if ſhe be leſſe then an honest woman, ſhee is
indeed more then I tooke her for.

Loren. How euerie ſoole can play vpon the word, I
thinke the beſt grace of witte will shortly turne into ſi-
lence, and diſcourſe grow commendable in none only
but Parrats: goe in firra, bid them prepare for dinner?

Clown. That is done fir, they haue all ſtomacks?

Loren. Goodly Lord, what a witte ſnapper are you,
then bid them prepare dinner.

Clown. That is done to fir, onely couer is the word.

Loren. Will you couer than fir?

Clown. Not ſo fir neither, I know my dutie.

Loreu. Yet more quarrelling with occasion, wile thou
ſhew the whole wealth of thy wit in an inſant; I pray
thee vnderſtand a plaine man in his plaine meaning: goe
to thy fellowes, bid them couer the table, ſerue in the
meat, and we will come in to dinner.

Clown. For the table fir, it ſhall be ſeru'd in, for the
meat fir, it ſhall bee couered, for your comming in to
dinner fir, why let it be as humors and conceits ſhall go-
uerne.

Exit Clowne.

Lor. O deare diſcretion, how his words are ſuted,
The ſoole hath planted in his memory

An Armie of good words, and I doe know

A many fooles that ſtand in better place,

Garniſt like him, that for a trick ſie word
Defie the matter: how cheeſt thou Jeſſica?

And now good ſweer ſay thy opinion,

How

["The Merchant of Venice.", "178", "How doft thou like the Lord *Baffano's* wife?", "*Ieffi.* Puff all expreffing, it is very meete", "The Lord *Baffano* liue a vpright life", "For hauing fuch a bleffing in his Lady,", "He findes the ioyes of heauen heere on earth,\nAnd if on earth he does not meane it, it", "Is reafon he should neuer come to heauen ?", "Why, if two gods should play some heauenly match,", "And on the wager lay two earthly women,", "And *Portia* one : there muſt be ſomething eſſe", "Paund with the other, for the poore rude world", "Hath not her fellow.", "*Loren.* Euen ſuch a husband", "Hast thou of me, as ſhe is for a wife.", "*Ief.* Nay, but aske my opinion to of that?", "*Lor.* I will anone, firſt let vs goe to dinner?", "*Ief.* Nay, let me prouſe you while I have a ſtomacke ?", "*Lor.* No pray thee, let it ferue for table talke,", "Then how ſom ere thou ſpeakſt 'anough other things,\nI ſhall digeſt it?", "*Ieffi.* Well, Ile fet you forth.", "Exeunt.", "## Actus Quartus.", "*Enter the Duke, the Magnificoes, Anthonio, Baffanio, and Gratiano.*", "*Duke.* What, is *Anthony* heere?", "*Ant.* Ready, so pleafe your grace ?", "*Duke.* I am forry for thee, thou art come to anſwere", "A ſtome aduerſary, an inhumane wretch,", "Vncapable of pitty, voyd, and empty", "From any dram of mercie.", "*Ant.* I haue heard", "Your Grace hath tane great paines to qualifie", "His rigorous course : but ſince he ſtands obdurate,", "And that no lawful meanes can carrie me", "Out of his enues reach, I do oppoſe", "My patience to his fury, and am arm'd", "To ſuffer with a quieteſſe of ſpirit,", "The very tiranny and rage of his.", "*Du.* Go one and cal the Iew into the Court.", "*Sal.* He is ready at the doore, he comes my Lord.", "*Enter Shylocke.*", "*Du.* Make roome, and let him ſtand before our face.", "*Shylocke* the world thinkes, and I thinke ſo to", "That thou but leadeſt this fashion of thy malice", "To the laſt houre of a clock, and then 'tis thought", "Thou'lt ſlew thy mercy and remorſe more ſtrange,", "Than is thy ſtrange apparant cruelty;", "And where thou now exacts ſt the penalty,", "Which is a pound of this poore Merchants fleſh,", "Thou wilt not onely ſoſe the forfeiture,", "But touch'd with humane gentlenſe and loue :", "Forgive a myotie of the principall,", "Glancing an eye of pitty on his loſſes", "That haue of late ſo budled on his backe,", "Enow to preſſe a royall Merchant downe ;", "And plucke commiseration of his ſtate.", "From brassie boſomes, and rough hearts of flints,", "From stubborne Turkes and Tarters neuer traind", "To offices of tender curteſſe,", "We all expect a gentle anſwer Iew ?", "*Iew.* Ihaue poffeſt your grace of what I purpose,", "And by our holy Sabbath haue I ſworne", "To haue the due and forfeit of my bond.", "If you denie it, let the danger light", "Vpon your Charter, and your Cities freeſome.", "You'll ask me why I rather choose to haue", "A weight of carrion fleſh, then to receiue", "Three thouſand Ducates ? Ile not anſwer that :", "But ſay it is my humor ; Is it anſwered?", "What if my houſe be troubled with a Rat,", "And I be pleas'd to giue ten thouſand Ducates", "To haue it baing'd ? What, are you anſwer'd yet?", "Some men there are loue not a gaping Pigge :", "Some that are mad, if they behold a Cat :", "And others, when the bag-pipe ſings i'th noſe,", "Cannot containe their Vrine for affection.", "Masters of paffion ſwayes it to the moode", "Of what it likes or loaths, now for your anſwer :", "As there is no firme reaſon to be rendred", "Why he cannot abide a gaping Pigge?", "Why he a harmleſſe neceſſarie Cat?", "Why he a woollen bag-pipe : but of force", "Muſt yeeld to ſuch ineuitable ſhame,", "As to offend himſelfe being offended :", "So can I giue no reaſon, nor I will not,", "More then a lodg'd hate, and a certaine loathing", "I beare *Anthony*, that I follow thus", "A laſsing ſuite againſt him? Are you anſWERED?", "*Baff.* This is no anſwer thou vnfeeling man,", "To excufe the currant of thy cruelty.", "*Iew.* I am not bound to pleafe thee with my anſwer.", "*Baff.* Do all men kil the things they do not loue?", "*Iew.* Hates any man the thing he would not kill?", "*Baff.* Euerie offence is not a hate at firſt.", "*Iew.* What wouldſt thou haue a Serpent ſling thee twice?", "*Ant.* I pray you thinke you queſtion with the Iew:", "You may as well go land vpon the beach,", "And bid the maine ſlond baite his vſuall height,", "Or euen as well vſe queſtion with the Wolfe,", "The Ewe bleate for the Lambe :", "You may as well forbid the Mountaine Pines", "To wagge their high tops, and to make no noſe", "When they are fretted with the guſts of heauen :", "You may as well do any thing moſt hard,", "As seeke to soften that, then which what harder ?", "His Iewiſh heart. Therefore I do beſeech you", "Make no more offers, vſe no farther meanes,", "But with all briefe and plaine conueniencie", "Let me haue iudgement, and the Iew his will.", "*Baff.* For thy three thouſand Ducates heere is fix.", "*Iew.* If euere Ducat in fixe thouſand Ducates", "Were in fixe parts, and euery part a Ducate,", "I would not draw them, I would haue my bond?", "*Du.* How ſhalt thou hope for mercie, rendring none?", "*Iew.* What iudgement ſhall I dread doing no wrong?", "You haue among you many a purchaſt ſlaue,", "Which like his Aſſes, and your Dogs and Mules,", "You vſe in abieſt and in ſlawiſh parts,", "Because you bought them. Shall I ſay to you,", "Let them be free, marrie them to your heires ?", "Why ſwuate they vnder burthens? Let their beds", "Be made as soft as yours : and let their pallats", "Be ſeason'd with ſuch Viands : you will anſwer", {"bbox": [955, 1373, 980, 1392

The Merchant of Venice.

179

The slaues are ours. So do I answer you.
The pound of flesh which I demand of him
Is deereely bought, 'tis mine, and I will haue it.
If you deny me; fie vpon your Law,
There is no force in the decrees of Venice;
I fand for judgement, answër, Shall I haue it?

Du. Vpon my power I may dismiffle this Court,
Vnleſſe Bellario a learned Doctor,
Whom I haue ſent for to determine this,
Come heere to day.

Sal. My Lord, heere ſayes without
A Meſſenger with Letters from the Doctor,
New come from Padua.

Du. Bring vs the Letters, Call the Meſſengers.

Baff. Good cheere, Anthonio. What man, corage yet:
The Iew shall haue my ſlesh, blood, bones, and all,
Ere thou ſhalt loose for me one drop of blood.

Ant. I am a tainted Weather of the flocke,
Meeteft for death, the weakest kinde of ſuite
Drops earlieſt to the ground, and ſo let me;
You cannot better be employ'd Baffanio,
Then to lue ſtill, and write mine Epitaph.

### Enter Neriffa.

Du. Came you from Padua from Bellario?

Ner. From both.

My Lord Bellario greets your Grace.

Baf. Why doſt thou wher thy knife ſo carnestly?

Iew. To cut the forfeiture from that bankrout there.

Gra. Not on thy ſale: but on thy ſoule harſh Iew
Thou mak't thy knife keene: but no mettall can,
No, not the hangmans Axe beare half the keenneſſe
Of thy harſpe enuy. Can no prayers pierce thee?

Iew. No, none that thou haſt wit enough to make.

Gra. O be thou damn'd, inexecrable dogge,

And for thy life let juſtice be accus'd:

Thou almost mak't me raile in my faith;

To hold opinion with Pythagoras,

That ſoules of Animals infute themſelues

Into the trunkes of men. Thy currifsh ſpirit

Gouern'd a Wolfe, who hang'd for humane ſlaughter,

Euen from the gallowes did his ſell ſoule fleet;
And whil't thou layeſt in thy vnhallowed dam,

Infus'd it ſelfe in thee: For thy deſires

Are Woluſh, bloody, ſteru'd, and rauenous.

Iew. Till thou canſt raile the ſeale from off my bond
Thou but offend't thy Lungs to ſpeake so loud:

Repaire thy wit good youth, or it will fall

To endleſſe ruine. I fand heere for Law.

Du. This Letter from Bellario doth commend
A yong and Learned Doctor in our Court.

Where is he?

Ner. He attendeth heere hard by

To know your anſwer, whether you'l admitt him.

Du. With all my heart. Some three or four of you
Go give him curteous conduct to this place,

Meane time the Court ſhall heare Bellario's Letter.

Y
Our Grace ſhall understand, that at the receite of your
Letter I am very ſicke: but in the instant that your unſ-
fenger came, in louing visitation, was with me a young Do-
ctor of Rome, his name is Balthasar: I acquaine him with
the cause in Controuſe, betweene the Iew and Anthony
the Merchant: We turn'd ore many Bookes together: bee ſi
furniſhed with my opinion, which bettred with his owne learn-
ing, the greatneſſe whereof I cannot enough commend, comεi

with him at my imporſtunity, to ſell up your Graces requeſt in
my ſted. I beſeech you, let his lacke of years be no impediment
to let him lacke a reuerend eſtimation: for I never kynce ſo
yong a body, with ſo old a head. I leane him to your gracious
acceptance, whose trial ſhall better publish his commendation.

### Enter Portia for Balthazar.

Du. You heare the learn'd Bellario what he writes,
And heere (I take it) is the Doctor come.

Gie me your hand: Came you from old Bellario?

Por. I did my Lord.

Du. You are welcome: take your place;
Are you acquainted with the difference

That holds this preſent queſtion in the Court.

Por. I am enſormed throughly of the cauſe.

Which is the Merchant heere? and which the Iew?

Du. Anthonio and old Shylocke, both ſtand forth.

Por. Is your name Shylocke?

Iew. Shylocke is my name.

Por. Of a ſtrange nature is the ſute you follow,
Yet in ſuch rule, that the Venetian Law
Cannot impugne you as you do proceed.

You ſtand within his danger, do you not?

Ant. I, ſo he ſayes.

Por. Do you confess the bond?

Ant. I do.

Por. Then muſt the Iew be merciſull.

Iew. On what compulſion muſt I? Tell me that.

Por. The quality of mercie is not ſtrain'd,

It droppeth as the gentle raine from heaven
Vpon the place beneath. It is twice bleſſt,

It bleſſeth him that giues, and him that takes,

'Tis mightieſt in the mightieſt, it becomes

The throned Monarch better then his Crowne.

His Scepter ſtewes the force of temporall power,

The attribute to awe and Maieſt'e,

Wherein doth fit the dread and ſeare of Kings:

But mercie is aboue this ſceptred ſway,

It is enthroned in the hearts of Kings,

It is an attribute to God himſelfe;

And earthly power doth then ſhew like Gods

When mercie ſeafons Iuſtice. Therefore Iew,

Though Iuſtice be thy plea, confider this,

That in the course of Iuſtice, none of vs

Should fee lauation: we do pray for mercie,

And that fame prayer, doth teach vs all to render

The deeds of mercie. I have ſpoke thus much

To mitigate the iuſtice of thy plea:

Which if thou follow, this strict course of Venice
Muſt needes giue ſentence gainſt the Merchant there.

Sby. My deeds vpon my head, I craue the Law,
The penaltie and forfeite of my bond.

Por. Is he not able to diſcharge the money?

Baf. Yes, heere I tender it for him in the Court,
Yea, twice the ſumme, if that will not ſuffice,
I will be bound to pay it ten times ore,

On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart:

If this will not ſuffice, it muſt appeare.

That malice beares downe truth. And I beſeech you
Wreſt once the Law to your authority.

To do a great right, do a little wrong,

And curbe this cruell divell of his will.

Por. It muſt not be, there is no power in Venice
Can alter a decree eſtablished:
I'll be recorded for a President,

And

The Merchant of Venice.

And many an error by the same example,
Will rush into the flate: It cannot be.

Iew. A Daniel come to judgement, yea a Daniel.

O wife young Judge, how do I honour thee.

Por. I pray you let me looke vpon the bond.

Iew. Heere 'tis moft reuerend Doctor, heere it is.

Por. Shylocke, there's thrice thy monie offered thee.

Shy. An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heauen:

Shall I lay periurie vpon my foule?

No not for Venice.

Por. Why this bond is forfeit,

And lawfully by this the Iew may claime

A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off

Neereft the Merchants heart; be mercifull,

Take thrice thy money, bid me teare the bond.

Iew. When it is paid according to the tenure.

It doth appeare you are a worthy Judge:

you know the Law, your exposition

Hath beene moft found. I charge you by the Law,

Whereof you are a well-deferuing pillar,

Proceed to judgement : By my foule I weare,

There is no power in the tongue of man

To alter me: I flay heree on my bond.

An. Moft heartily I do befeech the Court

To giue the judgement

Por. Why then thus it is :

you muſt prepare your boſome for his knife.

Iew. O noble Iudge, O excellent yong man.

Por. For the intent and purpofe of the Law

Hath full relation to the penaltie,

Which heree appeareth due vpon the bond.

Iew. 'Tis verie true : O wife and vpright Iudge,

How much more elder art thou then thy looks?

Por. Therefore lay bare your boſome.

Iew. I, his breſt,

So ſayes the bond, doth it not noble Iudge?

Neereſt his heart, thofe are the very words.

Por. It is so: Are there ballance heere to weigh the
fleſh?

Iew. I haue them ready.

Por. Haue by ſome Surgeon Shylock on your charge

To ſtop his wounds, leaſt he should bleede to death.

Iew. It is not nominated in the bond?

Por. It is not so expreſſ: but what of that?

Twere good you do to much for charitie.

Iew. I cannot ſinde it, 'tis not in the bond.

Por. Come Merchant, haue you any thing to ſay?

Ant. But little: I am arm'd and well prepared.

Gie me your hand Baffanio, fare you well,

Greeue not that I am falne to this for you:

For heerein fortune ſhewes her ſelfe more kinde

Then is her cuſtome. It is ſtill her vfe

To let the wretched man out-lie his wealthy,

To view with hollow eye, and wrinkled brow

An age of pouertie. From which lingring penance

Of ſuch miferie, doth the cut me off:

Commend me to your honourable Wife,

Tell her the proceſſe of Anthonio's end :

Say how I lou'd you; ſpeake me faire in death :

And when the scale is told, bid her be judge,

Whether Baffanio had not once a Loue :

Repent not you that you ſhall looke your friend,

And he repents not that he payes your debt.

For if the Iew do cut but deep enough,

He pay it instantly, with all my heart.

Baf. Anthonio, I am married to a wife,

Which is as decre to me as life it ſelfe,

But life it ſelfe, my wife, and all the world,

Are not with me eſteem'd aboue thy life.

I would looke all, I ſacrifice them all

Heere to this deuill, to deliuer you.

Por. Your wife would giue you little thanks for that
If she were by to heare you make the offer.

Gra. I have a wife whom I proteſt I loue,

I would ſhe were in heauen, ſo ſhe could

Intreat ſome power to change this currifh Iew.

Ner. 'Tis well you offer it behind her backe,

The wifh would make elfe an vnquiet houſe.

Iew. Theſe be the Chriſtian husbands: I haue a daugh-
Would any of the flocke of Barrabas

Had beene her husband, rather then a Chriſtian.

We trifle time, I pray thee purſue ſentence.

Por. A pound of that fame marchants fleſh is thine,
The Court awards it, and the law doth giue it.

Iew. Moſt rightfull Iudge.

Por. And you muſt cut this fleſh from off his breast,
The Law allowes it, and the Court awards it.

Iew. Moſt learned Iudge, a ſentence, come prepare.

Por. Tarry a little, there is ſomething eſſe,

This bond doth giue thee here no iot of bloud,

The words expreſſely are a pound of fleſh :

Then take thy bond, take thou thy pound of fleſh,
But in the cutting it, if thou doth ſhed

One drop of Chriſtian bloud, thy lands and goods

Are by the Lawes of Venice confiſcate

Vnto the state of Venice.

Gra. O vpright Iudge,

Marke Iew, I learned Iudge.

Shy. Is that the law ?

Por. Thy ſelfe ſhalt ſee the Act :
For as thou vgeſt iuſtice, be affuſ'd

Thou ſhalt haue iuſtice more then thou deſireſt.

Gra. O learned Iudge, mark Iew, a learned Iudge.

Iew. I take this offer then, pay the bond thrice,
And let the Chriſtian goe.

Baff. Heere is the money.

Por. Soft, the Iew ſhall haue all iuſtice, (soft, no haſte,
He ſhall haue nothing but the penalty.

Gra. O Iew, an vpright Iudge, a learned Iudge.

Por. Therefore prepare thee to cut off the fleſh,
Shed thou no bloud, nor cut thou leſſe nor more

But iuſt a pound of fleſh : if thou tak't more

Or leſſe then a iuſt pound, be it so much

As makes it light or heavy in the subſtance,

Or the deuifion of the twentieth part

Of one poore ſcruple, nay if the ſcale doe turne

But in the eſtimation of a hayre,

Thou deſt, and all thy goods are confiſcate.

Gra. A ſecond Daniel, a Daniel Iew,

Now infidell I haue thee on the hip.

Por. Why doth the Iew paſſe, take thy forfeiture.

Shy. Give me my principall, and let me goe.

Baff. I haue it ready for thee, heere it is.

Por. He hath refus'd it in the open Court,
He ſhall haue merely iuſtice and his bond.

Gra. A Daniel Iill ſay I, a ſecond Daniel,

I thank thee Iew for teaching me that word.

Shy. Shall I not haue barely my principall?

Por. Thou ſhalt haue nothing but the forfeiture,
To be taken ſo at thy perill Iew.

Shy. Why then the Deuill give him good of it:
He ſlay no longer quæſtion.

Por. Tarry

The Merchant of Venice.

182

Ile fee if I can get my husbands ring

Which I did make him ſware to keepe for euer.

Por. Thou maſt I warrant, we ſhal haue old ſwearing
That they did giue the rings away to men;
But weele out-face them, and out-ſware them to:
Away, make hafe, thou know'st where I will tarry.

Ner. Come good ſir, will you ſhow me to this houſe.

Exeunt.

## Actus Quintus.

### Enter Lorenzo and Iessica.

Lor. The moone ſhines bright. In ſuch a night as this,
When the sweete winde did gently kiffle the trees,
And they did make no nyſe, in ſuch a night
Troylus me thinkes mounted the Trojan walls,
And ſigh'd his ſoule toward the Grecian tents
Where Crefled lay that night.

Ies. In ſuch a night

Did Thisbie fearfully ore-trip the dewe,
And ſaw the Lyons ſhadow cre h himselfe,
And ranne diſmayed away.

Loren. In ſuch a night

Stood Dido with a Willow in her hand
Vpon the wilde ſea bankes, and waſt her Loue

To come againe to Carthage.

Ies. In ſuch a night

Medea gathered the enchanted hearbs
That did renew old Eſon.

Loren. In ſuch a night

Did Ieffica ſteale from the wealthy Iewe,
And with an Vnthrift Loue did runne from Venice,
As farre as Belmont.

Ies. In ſuch a night

Did young Lorenzo Iware he lou'd her well,
Stealing her ſoule with many vowes of faith,
And nere a true one.

Loren. In ſuch a night

Did pretty Ieffica (like a little ſhow)
Slander her Loue, and he forgaue it her.

Ieffi. I would out-night you did no body come:
But harke, Iheare the footing of a man.

### Enter Meſſenger.

Lor. Who comes so ſalt in ſilence of the night?

Mef. A friend.

(friend)

Loren. A friend, what friend ? your name I pray you
Mef. Stephano is my name, and I bring word

My Miftreſſe will before the breake of day
Be heere at Belmont, the doth ſtray about
By holy croſſes where the knees and prayes
For happy wedlocke houres.

Loren. Who comes with her?

Mef. None but a holy Hermit and her maid:
I pray you it my Maſter yet return'd?

Loren. He is not, nor we haue not heard from him,
But goe we in I pray thee Ieffica,
And ceremoniouſly let vs vs prepare

Some welcome for the Miftreſſe of the houſe,

### Enter Clowne.

Cle. Sola, ſola: wo ha ho, ſola, ſola.

Loren. Who calls?

Clo. Sola, did you fee M. Lorenzo, & M. Lorenzo, ſola,

Lor. Leaue hollowing man, heere.

(sola)

Clo. Sola, where, where?

Lor. Heere?

Clo. Tel him ther's a Poſt come from my Maſter, with
his horne full of good newes, my Maſter will be here ere
morning sweete ſoule.

Loren. Let's in, and there expect their coming.
And yet no matter: why should we goe in?

My friend Stephen, ſignifie pray you
Within the houſe, your Miftreſſe is at hand,
And bring your muſique footh into the ayre.
How sweet the moone-light ſleepes vpon this banke,
Heere will we fit, and let the ſounds of muſicke
Creepe in our eares ſoft filnes, and the night
Become the tuches of sweete harmonie :
Sit Ieffica, looke how the floore of heauen
Is thicke inlayed with pattens of bright gold,
There's not the smallest orbe which thou beholdst
But in his motion like an Angell ſings,
Still quiring to the young eyed Cherubins;
Such harmonie is in immortall ſoules,
But whilſt this muddy veſture of decay
Doth groſly cloſe in it, we cannot heare it:
Come hoe, and wake Diana with a hymne,
With sweeteſt tuches pearce your Miftreſſe care,
And draw her home with muſicke.

Ieffi. I am neuer merry when I heare sweet muſicke.

### Play muſicke.

Lor. The reaſon is, your ſpirits are attentive:
For doe but note a wilde and wanton heard
Or race of youthful and vnhandled colts,
Fatching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud,
Which is the hot condition of their bloud,
If they but heare perchance a trumpet ſound,
Or any ayre of muſicke touch their eares,
You ſhall perceiue them make a mutuall ſtand,
Their ſauage eyes turn'd to a modeſt gaze,
By the sweet power of muſicke: therefore the Poſt
Did faine that Orpheus drew trees, ſtones, and floods.
Since naught ſo flocketh, hard, and full of rage,
But muſicke for time doth change his nature,
The man that hath no muſicke in himſelfe,
Nor is not moued with concord of sweete ſounds,
Is fit for treaſons, ſtratagemes, and ſpoyles,
The motions of his ſpirit are dull as night,
And his affections darke as Erobus,
Let no ſuch man be truſted: marke the muſicke.

### Enter Portia and Nerriffa.

Por. That light we fee is burning in my hall:
How farre that little candell throws his beames,
So ſhines a good deed in a naughty world.

(dile)

Ner. When the moone ſhone we did not fee the can

Por. So doth the greater glory dim the leſſe,
A ſubſtitute ſhines brightly as a King
Vntill a King be by, and then his ſtate
Empties it ſelfe, as doth an inland brooke
Into the maine of waters: muſique, harke.

Muſicke

Ner. It is your muſicke Madame of the houſe.

Por. Nothing is good I fee without reſpect,
Methinkes it ſounds much sweeter then by day?

Ner. Silence beſtowes that vertue on it Madam.

Por. The Crow doth ſing asweetly as the Larke
When

The Merchant of Venice.

183

When neither is attended: and I thinke
The Nightingale if she should sing by day
When every Gooſe is cackling, would be thought
No better a Mufiſtian then the Wren?
How many things by ſeason, ſeason'd are
To their right praiſe, and true perſection:
Peace, how the Moone ſleepes with Endimion,
And would not be awak'd.

Mُuſiſke ceaſe.

Lor. That is the voice,
Or I am much deceu'd of Portia.
Por. He knowes me as the blinde man knowes the
Cuckow by the bad voice?

Lor. Deere Lady welcome home?

Por. We haue bene praying for our husbands welfare
Which ſpeed we hope the better for our words,
Are they return'd?

Lor. Madam, they are not yet:
But there is come a Mefiſenger before
To ſignifie their comming.

Por. Go in Nerriffa,

Gue order to our ſeruants, that they take
No note at all of our being abſent hence,
Nor you Lorenzo, Iſſica nor you.

A Tucket found.

Lor. Your husband is at hand, I heare his Trumpet,
We are no tell-tales Madam, ſcare you not.

Por. This night methinkes is but the daylight ſicke,
It looks a little paler, 'tis a day,
Such as the day is, when the Sun is hid.

Enter Baffanio, Antonio, Gratiano, and their
Followers.

Baff. We should hold day with the Antipodes,
If you would walke in abſence of the ſunne.

Por. Let me giue light, but let me not belight,
For a light wife doth make a heauie husband,
And neuer be Baffanio lo for me,

But God forſt all: you are welcome home my Lord.

Baff. I thanke you Madam, giue welcom to my friend
This is the man, this is Anthony,
To whom I am ſo infinitely bound.

Por. You should in all ſence be much bound to him,
For as I was much bounde for you.

Antonio. No more then I am wel acquitted of.

Por. Sir, you are verie welcome to our house:
It must appeare in other waies then words,
Therefore I ſcant this breathing curteſe.

Gra. By yonder Moone I ſweare you do me wrong,
Inſaith I gaue it to the Iudges Clearke,
Would he were gilt that had it for my part,
Since you do take it Loue so much at hart.

Por. A quarrel hoe already, what's the matter?

Gra. About a hoope of Gold, a paltry Ring
That ſhe did giue me, whole Poſſie was
For all the world like Curlers Poetry
Vpon a knife; Loue mee, and leaue mee not.

Ner. What talke you of the Poſſie or the valew:
You ſwore to me when I did giue it you,
That you would wearie it til the houre of death,
And that it should lye with you in your graue,
Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths,
You should haue bene reſpectiue and haue kept it.
Gae it a Iudges Clearke: but wel I know
The Clearke wil nere weare haire on's face that had it.

Gra. He wil, and if he liue to be a man,
Nerriffa. I, if a Woman liue to be a man,
Gra. Now by this hand I gaue it to a youth,

A kinde of boy, a little scrubbed boy,
No higher then thy ſelfe, the Iudges Clearke,
A prating boy that begg'd it as a Fee,
I could not for my heart deny it him.

Por. You were too blame, I muſt be plaine with you,
To part so flightly with your wines firſt gift,
A thing ſtucke on with oathes vpon your ſinger,
And so riueted with faith vnto your ſelf,
I gaue my Loue a Ring, and made him ſweare
Neuer to part with it, and heere he ſands:
I dare be ſworne for him, he would not leave it,
Nor plucke it from his ſinger, for the wealth
That the world maſters. Now in faith Gratians,
You giue your wife too vnkinde a caufe of greeſe,
And 'twere to me I ſhould be mad at it.

Baff. Why I were beſt to cut my left hand off,
And ſweare I loft the Ring defending it.

Gra. My Lord Baffanio gaue his Ring away
Vnto the ludge that beg'd it, and indeede
Deferu'd it too: and then the Boy his Clearke
That tooke ſome paines in writing, he begg'd mine,
And neyther man nor maſter would take ought
But the two Rings.

Por. What Ring gaue you my Lord?
Not that I hope which you receu'd of me.

Baff. If I could adde a lie vnto a ſault,
I would deny it: but you ſee my ſinger
Hath not the Ring vpon it, it is gone.

Por. Even so voide is your falſe heart of truth.
By heauen I will nere come in your bed
Vntil I fee the Ring.

Ner. Nor I in yours, til I againe fee mine.
Baff. Sweet Portia,

If you did know to whom I gaue the Ring,
If you did know for whom I gaue the Ring,
And would conceiue for what I gaue the Ring,
And how vnwillingly I left the Ring,
When nought would be accepted but the Ring,
You would abate the ſtrength of your diſpleaſure?

Por. If you had knowne the vertue of the Ring,
Or halſe her worthineſſe that gaue the Ring,
Or your owne honour to containe the Ring,
You would not then haue parted with the Ring:
What man is there so much vnreſasonable,
If you had pleas'd to haue defended it
With any termes of Zeale: wanted the modetie
To vge the thing held as a ceremonie:
Nerriffa teaches me what to beleeve,
Ile die for't, but ſome Woman had the Ring?

Baff. No by mine honor Madam, by my ſoule
No Woman had it, but a ciuill Doctor,
Which did reſufe three thouſand Ducates of me,
And beg'd the Ring; the which I did denie him,
And ſuffer'd him to go diſpleas'd away:
Euen he that had held vp the verie life
Of my deere friend. What ſhould I ſay SWEETE Lady?
I was inſor'd to ſend it after him,
I was beſet with ſhame and curteſie,
My honor would not let ingratitude
So much beſimeare it. Pardon me good Lady,
And by theſe bleſſed Candles of the night,
Had you bene there, I thinke you would haue beg'd
The Ring of me, to giue the worthie Doctor?

Q2

Por.

The Merchant of Venice

184

Por. Let not that Doctor ere come neere my house,
Since he hath got the iewell that I loued,
And that which you did I weare to keepe for me,
I will become as liberall as you,
Ile not deny him any thing I haue,
No, not my body, nor my husbands bed:
Know him I shall, I am well fure of it.
Lie not a night from home. Watch me like Argos,
If you doe not, if I be left alone,
Now by mine honour which is yet mine owne,
Ile haue the Doctor for my bedfellow.

Neriffa. And I his Clarke: therefore be well aduis'd
How you doe leaue me to mine owne protection.

Gra. Well, doe you so: let not me take him then,
For if I doe, ile mar the yong Clarks pen.

Ant. I am th'vnhappy fubiect of these quarrels.

Por. Sir, grieue not you,

You are welcome notwithstanding.

Baf. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong,
And in the hearing of these manie friends
I Iweare to thee, euen by thine owne faire eyes

Wherein I see my selfe

Por. Marke you but that?

In both my eyes he doubly sees himselfe:
In each eye one, I weare by your double selfe,
And there's an oath of credit.

Baf. Nay, but heare me.

Pardon this fault, and by my foule I Iweare
I neuer more will breake an oath with thee.

Anth. I once did lend my bodie for thy wealth,
Which but for him that had your husbands ring
Had quite miſcarried. I dare be bound againe,
My foule vpon the forfeit, that your Lord
Will neuer more breake faith aduisedlie.

Por. Then you shall be his furetie: giue him this,
And bid him keepe it better then the other.

Ant. Heere Lord *Baffanio*, I weare to keep this ring.

Baff. By heauen it is the fame I gane the Doctor.

Por. I had it of him: pardon *Baffanio*,

For by this ring the Doctor lay with me.

Ner. And pardon me my gentle *Gratiano*,
For that fame scrubbed boy the Doctors Clarke
In liew of this, laſt night did lye with me.

Gra. Why this is like the mending of high waies
In Sommer, where the waies are faire enough:
What, are we Cuckolds ere we haue deferu'd it.

Por. Speake not so groſſely, you are all amaz'd;
Heere is a letter, reade it at your leſure,
It comes from Padua from Bellario,
There you ſhall finde that Portia was the Doctor,
Neriffa there her Clarke. Lorenzo heere
Shall witenſe I fet forth as ſoone as you,
And but eu'n now return'd: I haue not yet
Entred my house. *Anthony* you are welcome,
And I haue better newes in ſtore for you
Then you expect: vnſeale this letter ſoone,
There you ſhall finde three of your Argofies
Are richly come to harbour ſodainlie.
You ſhall not know by what ſtrange accident
I chanced on this letter.

Antho. I am dumbe.

Baff. Were you the Doctor, and I knew you not?

Gra. Were you the Clark that is to make me cuckold.

Ner. I, but the Clark that neuer meanes to doe it,
Vnſeſſe he liue vntill he be a man.

Baff. (Sweet Doctor) you ſhall be my bedfellow,
When I am absent, then lie with my wife.

An. (Sweet Ladie) you haue giuen me life & liuing;
For heere I reade for certaine that my ſhips

Are ſafelie come to Rode.

Por. How now Lorenzo?

My Clarke hath ſome good comforts for you.

Ner. I, and Ile giue them him without a fee.
There doe I giue to you and *Ieffica*

From the rich Iewe, a ſpeciall deed of gift
After his death, of all he dies poſſeſſ'd of.

Loren. Faire Ladies you drop Manna in the way
Of starued people.

Por. It is almost morning,
And yet I am ſure you are not ſatistied
Of these euents at full. Let vs goe in,
And charge vs there vpon intergatories,
And we will anſwer all things faithfully.

Gra. Let it be so, the firſt intergatory
That my *Neriffa* (shall be ſworne on, is,
Whether till the next night ſhe had rather ſtay,
Or goe to bed, now being two hours to day,
But were the day come, I ſhould with it darke,
Till I were couching with the Doctors Clarke.
Well, while I liue, Ile feare no other thing
So ſore, as keeping ſafe *Neriffas* ring.

Exeunt.

FINIS.

As you Like it.

Actus primus. Scena Prima.

Enter Orlando and Adams.

Orlando.

AS I remember Adam, it was vpon this fashion
bequeathed me by will, but poore a thousand
Crownes, and as thou faift, charged my bro-
ther on his bleffing to breed mee well: and
there begins my fadneſſe: My brother Iaques he keepes
at Schoole, and report ſpeakes goldenly of his profit:
for my part, he keepes me ruſtically at home, or (to ſpeak
more properly) ſtaies me here at home vnkept: for call
you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that dif-
fers not from the ſtalling of an Oxe? his horſes are bred
better, for bſides that they are faire with their feeding,
they are taught their mannage, and to that end Riders
deereely hir'd: but I (his brother) gaine nothing vnder
him but growth, for the which his Animals on his
dunghils are as much bound to him as I: bſides this no-
thing that he ſo plenteously giues me, the ſomething that
nature gaue mee, his countenance ſeemes to take from
me: hee lets mee feede with his Hindes, barres mee the
place of a brother, and as much as in him lies, mines my
gentility with my education. This is it Adam that
grieues me, and the ſpirit of my Father, which I thinke
is within mee, begins to mutine againſt this ſeruitude.
I will no longer endure it, though yet. I know no wife
remedy how to auoid it.

Enter Oliver.

Adam. Yonder comes my Maſler, your brother.

Orlan. Goe a-part Adam, and thou haſt heare how
he will ſhakeme vp.

Oli. Now Sir, what make you heere?

Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing.

Oli. What mar you then fir?

Orl. Marry fir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poore vnworthy brother of yours with idleneſſe.

Oliuer. Marry fir be better employed, and be naught
a while.

Orlan. Shall I keepe your hogs, and eat huskes with
them? what prodigall portion haue I ſpent, that I should
come to ſuch penury?

Oli. Know you where you are fir?

Orl. O fir, very well: heere in your Orchard.

Oli. Know you before whom fir?

Orl. I, better then him I am before knowes mee: I
know you are my eldest brother, and in the gentle con-
dition of bloud you should ſo know me: the courteſe of
nations allowes you my better, in that you are the firſt
borne, but the ſame tradition takes not away my bloud,
were there twenty brothers betwixt vs: I haue as much

of my father in mee, as you, albeit I confefſe your com-
ming before me is neerer to his reuerence.

Oli. What Boy.

(this.

Orl. Come, come elder brother, you are too yong in

Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me villaine?

Orl. I am no villaine: I am the yonge ſonne of Sir Rowland de Boys, he was my father, and he is thrice a vil-
laine that faies ſuch a father begot villaines: wert thou
not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy
throat, till this other had puld out thy tongue for laying
fo, thou haſt raild on thy ſelfe.

Adam. Sweet Maſters bee patient, for your Fathers
remembrance, be at accord.

Oli. Let me goe I say.

Orl. I will not till I pleafe: you shall heare mee: my
father charg'd you in his will to give me good educati-
on: you haue train'd me like a pezant, obſcuring and
hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities: the ſpirit
of my father growes ſtrong in mee, and I will no longer
endure it: therefore allow me ſuch exercifes as may be-
come a gentleman, or giue mee the poore allottery my
father leit me by testament, with that I will goe buy my
fortunes.

Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg when that is ſpent?
Well fir, get you in. I will not long be troubled with
you: you ſhall haue ſome part of your will, I pray you
leave me.

Orl. I will no further offend you, then becomes mee
for my good.

Oli. Get you with him, you olde dogge.

Adam. Is old dogge my reward: moſt true, I haue
loft my teeth in your ſeruice: God be with my olde ma-
ſter, he would not haue ſpoke ſuch a word, Ex. Orl. Ad.

Oli. Is it euen so, begin you to grow vpon me? I will
phyſicke your rankeſneſſe, and yet giue no thousand
crownes neyther: holla Dennis.

Enter Dennis.

Den. Calls your worſhip?

Oli. Was not Charles the Dukes Wraſtlet heere to ſpeake with me?

Den. So please you, he is heere at the doore, and im-
portunes acceſſe to you.

Oli. Call him in: 'twill be a good way: and to mor-
row the wraſtling is.

Enter Charles.

Eba. Good morrow to your worſhip.

Oli. Good Mounſier Charles: what's the new newes
at the new Court?

Charles. There's no newes at the Court Sir, but the
olde newes: that is, the old Duke is banifhed by his yon-
ger brother the new Duke, and three or foure louing

Q3

Lords

As you like it.

186

Lords haue put themfelues into voluntary exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new Duke, therefore he gies them good leaue to wander.

Oli. Can you tell if Rosalind the Dukes daughter bee banishe'd with her Father?

Cha. O no; for the Dukes daughter her Cofen so loues her, being euer from their Cradles bred together, that hee would haue followed her exile, or haue died to stay behind her; she is at the Court, and no lesse beloved of her Vncle, then his owne daughter, and neuer two Ladies loued as they doe.

Oli. Where will the old Duke liue?

Cha. They fay hee is already in the Forreft of Arden, and a many merry men with him; and there they liue like the old Robin Hood of England: they fay many yong Gentlemen flocke to him euery day, and fleet the time carelesly as they did in the golden world.

Oli. What, you wrasle to morrow before the new Duke.

Cha. Marry doe I fir: and I came to acquaint you with a matter: I am giuen fir secretly to vnderstand, that your yong brother Orlando hath a dispoſition to come in diſguis'd againſt mee to try a fall: to morrow fir I wrasſle for my credit, and hee that eſcapes me without ſome broken limbe, ſhall acquit him well: your brother is but young and tender, and for your loue I would bee loth to foyle him, as I muſt for my owne honour if hee come in: therefore out of my loue to you, I came hither to acquaint you withall, that either you might ſay him from his intendment, or brooke ſuch diſgrace well as he ſhall runne into, in that it is a thing of his owne ſeareh, and altogether againſt my will.

Oli. Charles, I thanke thee for thy loue to me, which thou ſhalt finde I will moſt kindly requite: I had my ſelfe notice of my Brothers purpope heerein, and haue by vnder-hand meanes laboured to diſſwade him from it; but he is refolute. Ile tell thee Charles, it is the ftubborneſt yong fellow of France, full of ambition, an enuious emulator of euery man's good parts, a ſecret & villanous contriver againſt mee his naturall brother: therefore vſe thy diſcretion, I had as ſelie thou didſt breake his necke as his finger. And thou wert beſt looke to't; for if thou doſt him any flight diſgrace, or it hee does not mightily grace himſelfe on thee, hee will præſeſe againſt thee by poyſon, entrap thee by ſome treacherous deuife, and neuer leaue thee till he hath tane thy life by ſome indireſt meanes or other: for I aſſure thee, (and almost with teares I ſpeake it) there is not one ſo young, and ſo villanous this day living. I ſpeake but brotherly of him, but ſhould I anathomize him to thee, as hee is, I muſt bluſh, and weepe, and thou muſt looke pale and wonder.

Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you: if hee come to morrow, Ile giue him his payment: if euer hee goe alone againe, Ile neuer wrasſle for prize more: and to God keepe your worſhip.

Exit.

Farewell good Charles. Now will I ſtirre this Gameſter: I hope I shall fee an end of him; for my ſoule (yet I know not why) hates nothing more then he: yet hee's gentle, neuer schoold, and yet learned, full of noble deuife, of all forts enchantingly beloved, and indeed to much in the heart of the world, and especially of my owne people, who beſt know him, that I am altogether miſprised: but it shall nor be ſo long, this wrasſler shall cleare all: nothing remains, but that I kindle the boy chither, which now I lec goe about.

Exit.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Rosalind, and Celia.

Cel. I pray thee Rosalind, Iweet my Coz, be merry.

Ref. Deere Celia; I show more mirth then I am miftreſſe of, and would you yet were merrier: vnleſſe you could teach me to forget a banisheſt father, you muſt not leare mee how to remember any extraordinary pleasure.

Cel. Heerein I fee thou louſt mee not with the full waight that I loue thee; if my Vncle thy banisheſt father had banisheſt thy Vncle the Duke my Father, so thou hadſt beene ſill with mee, I could haue taught my loue to take thy father for mine; so wouldſt thou, if the truth of thy loue to me were ſo righteouſly temper'd, as mine is to thee.

Ref. Well, I will forget the condition of my eſtate, to reioyce in yours.

Cel. You know my Father hath no childe, but I, nor none is like to haue; and truely when he dies, thou haſt be his heire; for what hee hath taken away from thy father perſence, I will render thee againe in affection: by mine honor I will, and when I breake that oath, let mee turne monſter; therefore my sweet Rose, my deare Ref, be mery.

Ref. From henceforth I will Coz, and deuife ſports: let me fee, what thinke you of falling in Loue?

Cel. Marry I prethee doe, to make ſport withall: but loue no man in good earneſt, nor no further in ſpoeſyether, then with safety of a pure bluſh, thou maſt in hon nor come off againe.

Ref. What shall be our ſport then?

Cel. Let vs fit and mocke the good houſwife Fortune from her wheele, that her giſts may henceforth bee beſtowed equally.

Ref. I would wee could doe so: for her benefits are mightily miſplaced, and the bountiſul blinde woman doth moſt mistake in her giſts to women.

Cel. Tis true, for thofe that ſhe makes faire, ſhe feares makes honest, & thofe that ſhe makes honest, ſhe makes very illfauouredly.

Ref. Nay now thou goeſt from Fortunes office to Naſtures: Fortune reigneſ in giſts of the world, not in the lineaments of Nature.

Enter Clowne.

Cel. No; when Nature hath made a faire creature, may ſhe not by Fortune fall into the fire? though nature hath giuen vs wit to flout at Fortune, hath not Fortune ſent in this ſoole to cut off the argument?

Ref. Indeed there is fortune too hard for nature, when fortune makes natures naturall, the cutter off of natures witte.

Cel. Peraduenture this is not Fortunes work neither, but Natures, who perceiueth our naturall wits too dull to reaſon of ſuch goddeſſes, hath ſent this Naturall for our whetstone, for alwaies the dulneſſe of the ſoole, is the whetstone of the wits. How now Witte, whether wander you?

Clow. Miftreſſe, you muſt come away to your father.

Cel. Were you made the meſſenger?

Clo. No by mine honor, but I was bid to come for you.

Ref.

As you like it.

187

Ref. Where learned you that oath foole ?

Clo. Of a certaine Knight, thatfwore by his Honour
they were good Pan-cakes, and fware by his Honor the
Muſtard was naught : Now Ile ſtand to it, the Pancakes
were naught, and the Muſtard was good, and yet was
not the Knight forſworne.

Cel. How proue you that in the great heape of your
knowledge?

Ref. I marry, now vnmuzzle your wifiedome.

Clo. Stand you both forth now: ſtroke your chinnes,
and ſware by your beards that I am a knaue.

Cel. By your beards (if we had them) thou art.

Clo. By my knauerie (if I had it) then I were: but if
you ſware by that that is not, you are not forſworn: no
more was this knight ſwearing by his Honor, for he ne-
uer had anie; or if he had, he had ſworne it away, before
euer he saw thate Pancakes, or that Muſtard.

Cel. Prethee, who is't that thou means't?

Clo. One that old *Fredericke* your Father loues.

Ref. My Fathers loue is enough to honor him enough;
ſpeak no more of him, you'l be whipt for taxation one
of thefe daies.

Clo. The more pittie that fooles may not ſpeak wife-
ly, what Wifemen do foolifly.

Cel. By my troth thou faieſt true: For, ſince the little
wit that fooles haue was filenced, the little foolerie that
wife men haue makes a great ſhew; Heere comes Mon-
fieur the *Beu*.

Enter le Beu.

Ref. With his mouth full of newes.

Clo. Which he will put on vs, as Pigeons feed their
young.

Ref. Then ſhal we be newes-cram'd.

Cel. All the better: we ſhalbe the more Marketable.
Boon-iour *Monfieur le Beu*, what's the newes?

Le Beu. Faire Princesſe,

you haue loſt much good ſport.

Cel. Sport: of what colour?

Le Beu. What colour Madame? How ſhall I au-
ſwer you?

Ref. As wit and fortune will.

Clo. Or as the definiues decrees.

Cel. Well faid, that was laid on with a trowell.

Clo. Nay, if I keep not my ranke.

Ref. Thou lookeſt thy old ſmell.

Le Beu. You amaze me Ladies: I would haue told
you of good wraſtling, which you haue loft the fight of.

Ref. Yet tell vs the manner of the Wraſtling.

Le Beu. I will tell you the beginning: and if it pleafe
your Ladifhips, you may fee the end, for the beſt is yet
to doe, and heere where you are, they are comming to
performe it.

Cel. Well, the beginning that is dead and buried.

Le Beu. There comes an old man, and his three ſons.

Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale.

Le Beu. Three proper yong men, of excellent growth
and prefence.

Ref. With bills on their neckes: Be it knowne vnto
all men by theſe prefents.

Le Beu. The eldeſt of the three, wraſtled with *Charles*
the Dukes Wraſtler, which *Charles* in a moment threw
him, and broke three of his ribbes, that there is little
hope of life in him: So he ſeru'd the ſecond, and so the
third: yonder they lie, the poore old man their *Fathers*,
making ſuch pittiful dole over them, that all the behol-

ders take his part with weeping.

Ref. Alas.

Clo. But what is the ſport Monſieur, that the Ladies
haue loft?

Le Beu. Why this that I ſpeak of.

Clo. Thus men may grow wiser every day. It is the
first time that euer I heard breaking of ribbes was ſport
for Ladies.

Cel. Or I, I promife thee.

Ref. But is there any ſelfe longs to ſee this broken
Muſſicke in his ſides? Is there yet another doates vpon
rib-breaking? Shall we ſee this wraſtling Coſin?

Le Beu. You muſt if you ſlay here, for here is the
place appointed for the wraſtling, and they are ready to
performe it.

Cel. Yonder ſure they are comming. Let vs now ſtay
and ſee it.

Flourish. Enter Duk's, Lords, Orlando, Charles,
and Attendants.

Duke. Come on, since the youth will not be entreated
His owne perill on his forwardneſſe.

Ref. Is yonder the man?

Le Beu. Euen he, Madam.

Cel. Alas, he is too yong: yet he looks ſuccesſefully

Du. How now daughter, and Couſin:

Are you crept hither to ſee the wraſtling?

Ref. I my Liege, so pleafe you giue vs leaue.

Du. You wil take little delight in it, I can tell you
there is ſuch oddes in the man : In pitie of the challen-
gers youth, I would faine diſwade him, but he will not
bee entreated. Speake to him Ladies, ſee if you can
mooue him.

Cel. Call him hether good Monſieur Le Beu.

Duke. Do so: Ile not be by.

Le Beu. Monſieur the Challenger, the Princesſe cals
for you.

Orl. I attend them with all reſpect and dutie.

Ref. Young man, haue you challeng'd *Charles* the
Wraſtler?

Orl. No faire Princesſe: he is the generall challenger,
I come but in as others do, to try with him the ſtrength
of my youth.

Cel. Yong Gentleman, your ſpirits are too bold for
your yeares: you haue ſeene cruell proofe of this mans
ſtrength, if you ſaw your ſelfe with your eies, or knew
your ſelfe with your judgment, the ſeare of your aduen-
ture would counsel you to a more equall enterprise. We
pray you for your owne ſake to embrace your own ſafe-
tie, and giue ouer this attempt.

Ref. Do yong Sir, your reputation ſhall not therefore
be miſprifed: we wil make it our ſuite to the Duke, that
the wraſtling might not go forward.

Orl. I beteeth you, puniſh mee not with your harde
thoughts, wherein I confesse me much guiltie to denie
ſo faire and excellent Ladies anie thing. But let your
faire eies, and gentle wishes go with mee to my triall;
wherein if I bee foil'd, there is but one ſham'd that vvas
neuer gracious: if kil'd, but one dead that is willing to
be so: I ſhall do my friends no wrong, for I haue none to
lament me the world no intrie, for in it I haue nothing:
onely in the world I fit vp a place, which may bee better
fupplied, when I haue made it empty.

Ref. The little ſtrength that I haue, I would it were
with you.

Cel.

188

As you like it.

Cel. And mine to eek out hers.

Ref. Fare you well: prie heauen I be deceu'd in you.

Cel. Your hearts defires be with you.

Char. Come, where is this yong gallant, that is so
defirous to lie with his mother earth?

Orl. Readie Sir, but his will hath in it a more modeſt
working.

Duk. You shall trie but one fall.

Cha. No, I warrant your Grace you shall not entreat
him to a ſecond, that haue ſo mightilie perſwaded him
from a firſt.

Orl. You meane to mocke me after: you ſhould not
haue mockt me before: but come your waeſ.

Ref. Now Hercules, be thy ſpeede yong man.

Cel. I would I were inuſible, to catch the ſtrong fel-
low by the ſagge.

Ref. Oh excellent yong man.

Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eie, I can tell who
ſhould downe.

Duk. No more, no more.

Orl. Yes I beſeech your Grace, I am not yet well
breath'd.

Duk. How doſt thou Charles?

Le Beu. He cannot ſpeake my Lord,

Duk. Beare him awaie :

What is thy name yong man ?

Orl. Orlando my Liege, the yongeſt ſonne of Sir Ro-
land de Boys.

Duk. I would thou haſt beene ſon to ſome man else,
The world eſteem'd thy father honourable,
But I did finde him fill mine enemie;
Thou ſhould'ſt haue better pleas'd me with this deede,
Hadſt thou defeended from another houſe :
But fare thee well, thou art a gallant youth,
I would thou hadſt told me of another Father.

Exit Duke.

Cel. Were I my Father (Coze) would I do this?

Orl. I am more proud to be Sir Rolands ſonne,
His yongeſt ſonne, and would not change that calling
To be adopted heire to Fredricke.

Ref. My Father lou'd Sir Roland as his ſoule,
And all the world was of my Fathers minde,
Had I before knowne this yong man his ſonne,
I ſhould haue giuen him teares vnto entreaties,
Ere he ſhould thus haue yentur'd.

Cel. Gentleman, Cofen,

Let vs goe thanke him, and encourage him :
My Fathers rough and enuious diſpoſition
Sticks me at heart: Sir, you haue well deferu'd,
If you doe keepe my promifes in loue;
But iſtuly as you haue exceeded all promife,
Your Miftris ſhall be happie.

Ref. Gentleman,

Weare this for me: one out of ſuites with fortune
That could giue more, but that her hand lacks meaneſ.
Shall we goe Coze?

Cel. 1: fare you well faire Gentleman.

Orl. Can I not lay, I thanke you? My better parts
Are all throwne downe, and that which here flands vp
Is but a quintine, a meere liueleſſe blocke.

Ref. He cals vs back: my pride fell with my fortunes,
He aske him what he would: Did you call Sir?
Sir, you haue wraſtled well, and ouerthrowne
More then your enemie.

Cel. Will you goe Coze?

Ref. Haue with you: fare you well.

Exiſ.

Orl. What paffion hangs theſe waightsvp my toong?
I cannot ſpeake to her, yet ſhe vrg'd conference.

Enter Le Beu.

O poore Orlando ! thou art ouerthrowne
Or Charles, or ſomething weaker maſters thee.

Le Beu. Good Sir, I do in friendſhip counſaile you
Te leaue this place; Albeit you haue deferu'd
High commendation, true applaſe, and loue;
Yet ſuch is now the Dukes condition,
That he miſconſters all that you haue done:
The Duke is humorous, what he is indeede
More ſuites you to conceiue, then I to ſpeake of.

Orl. I thanke you Sir; and pray you tell me this,
Which of the two was daughter of the Duke,
That here was at the Wraſtling?

Le Beu. Neither his daughter, if we iudge by manners,
But yet indeede the taller is his daughter,
The other is daughter to the banif'd Duke,
And here detain'd by her vſurping Vncle
To keepe his daughter companie, whose loues
Are deeter then the naturall bond of Sifters :
But I can tell you, that of late this Duke
Hath tane diſpleasure' gainſt his gentle Neece,
Grounded vpon no other argument,
But that the people praife her for her vertues,
And pittie her, for her good Fathers ſake;
And on my life his malice' gainſt the Lady
Will ſodainly breake forth: Sir, fare you well,
Hereafter in a better world then this,
I ſhall define more loue and knowledge of you.

Orl. I reſt much bounden to you; fare you well.
Thus muſt I from the ſmoake into the ſmother,
From tyrant Duke, vnto a tyrant Brother.
But heauenly Rofaline.

Exiſ.

## Scena Tertius.

Enter Celia and Rofaline.

Cel. Why Cofen, why Rofaline: Cupid haue mercie,
Not a word?

Ref. Not one to throw at a dog.

Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be caſt away
vpon curs, throw ſome of them at me; come lame mee
with reaſons.

Ref. Then there were two Cofens laid vp, when the
one ſhould be lam'd with reaſons, and the other mad
without any.

Cel. But is all this for your Father?

Ref. No, ſome of it is for my childeſs Father: Oh
how full of briers is this working day world.

Cel. They are but burs, Cofen, throwne vpon thee
in holiday foolerie, if we walke not in the trodden paths
our very petty-coates will catch them.

Ref. I could ſhake them off my coate, theſe burs are
in my heart.

Cel. Hem them away.

Ref. I would try if I could cry hem, and haue him.

Cel. Come, come, wraſle with thy affections.

Ref. O they take the part of a better wraſtler then
my ſelſe.

Cel. O, a good wiſh vpon you: you will trie in time
in

As you like it.

187

in dipight of a fall: but turning thefe iefts out of seruice,
let vs talke in good earneſt: is it possible on ſuch a ſo-
daine, you ſhould fall into ſo ſtong a liking with old Sir
Roulands yonge ſonne?

Rof. The Duke my Father lou'd his Father deerelie.

Cel. Doth this therefore enſue that you ſhould loue his
Sonne deerelie ? By this kinde of chafe, I should hate
him, for my fatherhated his father deerely; yet I hate
not Orlando?

Rof. No faith, hate him not for my ſake.

Cel. Why should I not ? doth he not deſerve well?

Enter Duke with Lords.

Rof. Let me loue him for that, and do you loue him
Because I doe. Looke, here comes the Duke.

Cel. With his eies full of anger.

Duk. Miftris, diſpatch you with your ſafest haſte,
And get you from our Court.

Rof. Me Uncle.

Duk. You Coſen,

Within theſe ten daies if that thou beſt found
So neere our publike Court as twentie miles,
Thou diſt for it.

Rof. I doe beſeech your Grace

I let me the knowledge of my fault beare with me :

If with my ſelfe I hold intelligence,

Or haue acquaintance with mine owne desires,

If that I doe not dreame, or be not tranſicke,
(As I doe truſt I am not) then deere Vncle,
Neuer ſo much as in a thought vnborne,
Did I offend your highneſſe.

Duk. Thus doe all Traitors,

If their purgation did onſift in words,

They are as innocent as grace it ſelfe;

Let it ſuffice thee that I truſt thee not.

Rof. Yet your miſtruſt cannot make me a Traitor ;

Tell me whereon the likelihoods depends?

Duk. Thou art thy Fathers daughter, there's enough.

Cel. So was I when your highnes took his Dukdome,
So was I when your highneſſe banisht him;

Treason is not inherited my Lord,

Or if we did deride it from our friends,

What's that to me, my Father was no Traitor,

Then good my Leige, miſtake me not so much,

To thinke my pouertie is treacherous.

Cel. Deere Souveraigne heare me speake.

Duk. I Celia, we ſtaid her for your ſake,
Elſe had ſhe with her Father rang'd along.

Cel. I did not then intreat to haue her stay.
It was your pleasure, and your owne remorſe,
I was too yong that time to value her,
But now I know her : if ſhe be a Traitor,
Why so am I : we ſtill haue ſlept together,
Rofe at an inſant, learn'd, plaid, eate together,
And whereſoever we went, like Innos Swans,
Still we went coupled and inſeperable.

Duk. She is too ſubtle for thee, and her ſmoothne;
Her verie ſilence, and per patience,

Speake to the people, and they pittie her :
Thou art a ſoole, ſhe robs thee of thy name,

And thou wilt show more bright, & ſeem more vertuous
When ſhe is gone : then open not thy lips
Firme, and irreuocable is my doombe,
Which I haue paſt upon her, ſhe is banisht'd.

Cel. Pronounce that ſentence then on me my Leige,
I cannot line out of her companie.

Duk. You are a ſoole: you Neice prouide your ſelfe,
If you out-ray the time, vpon mine honor,
And in the greatneſſe of my word you die.

Exit Duke, &c.

Cel. O my poore Rofaline, whether wilt thou goe?
Wilt thou change Fathers ? I will giue thee mine
I charge thee be not thou more grieu'd then I am.

Rof. I haue more caufe.

Cel. Thou haſt not Coſen,

Prethee be cheerefull; know'ft thou not the Duke
Hath banisht me his daughter?

Rof. That he hath not.

Cel. No, hath not ? Rofaline lacks then the loue
Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one,
Shall we be ſ fundred ? ſhall we part ſweete gire ?

No, let my Father ſeeke another heire :

Therefore deuife with me how we may flie

Whether to goe, and what to beare with vs,

And does not ſeeke to take your change vpon you,

To beare your griefes your ſelfe, and leaue me out:

For by this heauen, now at our forrowes pale;

Say what thou canſt, Ile goe along with thee.

Rof. Why, whether ſhall we goe ?

Cel. To ſeeke my Vncle in the Forreſt of Arden.

Rof. Alas, what danger will it be to vs,

(Maides as we are) to trauell forth so farre?

Beautie prouoketh theeues sooner then gold.

Cel. Ile put my ſelfe in poore and meane attire,
And with a kinde of vmbre ſmirch my face,
The like doe you, ſo ſhall we paffie along,
And neuer firr affaillants.

Rof. Were it not better,

Because that I am more then common tall,

That I did ſuite me all points like a man,

A gallant curtelax vpon my thigh,

A boreſpeare in my hand, and in my heart

Lye there what hidden womans ſeare there will,

Weele haue a fwaſhing and a marſhall outside,

As manie other manniſh cowards haue,

That doe outface it with their ſemblances.

Cel. What ſhall I call thee when thou art a man?

Rof. Ile haue no worſe a name then Jones owne Page,
And therefore looke you call me Ganimed.

But what will you by call'd?

Cel. Something that hath a reference to my ſtate :
No longer Celia, but Aliena.

Rof. But Coſen, what if we aſſaid to ſteale
The clowniſh Foole out of your Fathers Court :
Would he not be a comfort to our trauaile?

Cel. Heele goe along ore the wide world with me,
Leaue me alone to woe him; Let's away
And get our Iewels and our wealth together,
Deuife the ſitteſt time, and ſafest way
To hide vs from purſuite that will be made

After my flight : now goe in we content

To libertie, and not to baniſhment.

Exemt.

Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima.

Enter Duke Senior: Amysens, and two or three Lords
like Forreſters.

Duk. Sen. Now my Coe-mates, and brothers in exile:
Hath not old custome made this life more ſweete

Then

190

As you like it.

Then that of painted pompe ? Are not thefe woods
More free from perill then the enuious Court ?
Heere feele we not the penaltie of Adam,
The seafons difference, as the Icie phange
And churlifh chiding of the winters winde,
Which when it bites and blowes vpon my body
Euen till I flrinke with cold, I smile, and fay
This is no flattery : theſe are counſellors
That feelingly perfwade me what I am :
Sweet are the vles of aduerſitie
Which like the road, ougly and venemous,
Weares yet a precious lewell in his head :
And this our life exempt from publike haunt,
Findes tongues in trees, bookeſ in the running brookes,
Sermons in ſtones, and good in euery thing.

Amien. I would not change it, happy is your Grace
That can translate the ſtubbornneſſe of fortune
Into ſo quiet and ſo ſweet a ſtile.

Du.Sen. Come, ſhall we goe and kill vs venifon ?
And yet it irkes me the poore dapled fooles
Being native Burgers of this defert City,
Should intheir owne confines with forked heads
Haue their round hanches goard.

1.Lord. Indeed my Lord
The melancholy Jaques grieues at that,
And in that kinde ſweares you doe more ſurpe
Then doth your brother that hath banifh'd you:
To day my Lord of Amiens, and my ſelfe,
Did ſteale behinde him as he lay along
Vnder an oake, whose anticke roote peepes out
Vpon the brooke that brawles along this wood,
To the which place a poore ſequeſtred Stag
That from the Hunters aime had tane a hurt,
Did come to languifh; and indeed my Lord
The wretched animall heau'd forth such groanes
That their discharge did ſtretch his leatherne coat
Almoſt to buſtling, and the big round teares
Cours'd one another downe his innocent noſe
In pitteous chafe : and thus the hairie ſoole,
Much marked of the melancholie Jaques,
Stood on the extremeſt verge of the ſwift brooke,
Augmenting it with teares.

Du.Sen. But what ſaid Jaques ?

Did he not moralize this ſpectacle ?

1.Lord. O yes, into a thousand ſimilies.
Firſt, for his weeping into the needleſſe ſlreame;
Poore Deere quoth he, thou mak't a teament
As worldlungs doe, giuing thy ſum of more
To that which had too muſt : then being there alone,
Left and abandoned of his veluet friend ;
'Tis right quoth he, thus miferie doth part
The Fluxe of companie : anon a careleſſe Heard
Full of the paſſure, iumps along by him
And neuer ſtaies to greet him : I quoth Jaques,
Sweepe on you fat and greazie Citizens,
'Tis iuſt the fashion ; wherefore doe you looke
Vpon that poore and broken bankrupt there ?
Thus moſt ineſtueiuly he pierceth through
The body of Countrie, Citie, Court,
Yea, and of this our life, I wearing that we
Are meere ſurpers, tyrants, and what's worſe
To fright the Annimals, and to kill them vp
In their affign'd and native dwelling place.

D.Sen. And did you leaue him in this contemplation ?

2.Lord. We did my Lord, weeping and commenting
Vpon the ſobbing Deere:

Du.Sen. Show me the place,
I loue to cope him in theſe ſullen ſits,
For then he's full of matter.

1.Lor. Ile bring you to him ſtrait.

Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Duke, with Lords.

Duk. Can it be poffible that no man ſaw them ?
It cannot be, ſome villaines of my Court
Are of confent and ſufferance in this.

1.Lo. I cannot heare of any that did ſee her,
The Ladies her attendants of her chamber
Saw her a bed, and in the morning early,
They found the bed vntreafur'd of their Miftris.

2.Lor. My Lord, the roynſh Clown, at whom ſo ſo,
Your Grace was wont to laugh is alſo miffing,
Hilſeria the Princeſſe Centlewoman
Conſeſſes that ſhe secretly ore-heard
Your daughter and her Cofen much commend
The parts and graces of the Wraſtler
That did but lately foile the ſynowie Charles,
And ſhe beleeues where euer they are gone
That youth is ſurely in their companie.

Duk. Send to his brother, fetch that gallant hither,
If he be abſent, bring his Brother to me,
Ile make him finde him : do this ſodainly;
And let nor ſearch and inquifition quailie,
To bring againe theſe ſoolſh runawaies.

Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Orlando and Adams.

Ori. Who's there?

Ad. What my yong Maſter, oh my gentle Maſter,
Oh my ſweet Maſter, O you memorie
Of old Sir Rowland; why, what make you here ?
Why are you vertuous ? Why do people loue you ?
And wherefore are you gentle, ſtrong, and valiant ?
Why would you be ſo fond to ouercome
The bonnie prifer of the humorous Duke ?
Your praire is come too ſwifly home before you.
Know you not Maſter, to ſeeme kinde of men,
Their graces ſerue them but as enemies,
No more doe yours : your vertues gentle Maſter
Are ſanctified and holy traitors to you :
Oh what a world is this, when what is comely
Enuenoms him that beares it ?

Why, what's the matter ?

Ad. O vnhappie youth,
Come not within theſe doores : within this rooſe
The enemie of all your graces liues
Your brother, no, no brother, yet the ſonne
(Yet not the ſon, I will not call him ſon)
Of him I was about to call his Father,
Hath heard your praires, and this night he means,
To burne the lodging where you vie to lye,
And you within it : if he faile of that

He

As you like it.

191

He will haue other meanes to cut you off;
I ouerheard him: and his practises :

This is no place, this house is but a butcherie;
Abhorre it, feare it, doe not enter it.

Ad. Why whether Adam would it thou haue me go?

Ad. No matter whether, so you come nor here.

Orl. What, would it thou haue me go & beg my food,
Or with a bale and boiftrous Sword enforce
A theeuil liuing on the common rode?
This I muft do, or know not what to do:
Yet this I will not do, do how I can,
I rather will subiect me to the malice
Of a diuerced blood, and bloudie brother.

Ad. But do not so : I haue five hundred Crownes,
The thriftie hire I faued vnder your Father,
Which I did store to be my foster Nurse,
When feruice should in my old limbs lie lame,
And vnregarded age in corners throwne,
Take that, and he that doth the Rauens feede,
Yea prouidently caters for the Sparrow,
Be comfort to my age : here is the gold,
All this I giue you, let me be your feruant,
Though I looke old, yet I am strong and lufte;
For in my youth I neuer did apply
Hot, and rebellious liquors in my bloud,
Nor did not with vnbaſh full forehead woe,
The meanes of weakneſſe and debilitie,
Therefore my age is as a luſtie winter,
Froſtie, but kindly ; let me goe with you,
Ile do the feruice of a yonger man
In all your buſineſſe and neceſſities.

Orl. Oh good old man, how well in thee appeares
The conſtant feruice of the antique world,
When feruice ſweate for dutie, not for meede:
Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
Where none will ſwefte, but for promotion,
And hauing that do choake their feruice vp,
Euen with the hauing, it is not so with thee:
But poore old man, thou prunſt a rotten tree,
That cannot so much as a bloſſome yeelde,
In lieu of all thy paines and husbandrie,
But come thy waies, weele goe along together,
And ere we haue thy youthfull wages ſpent,
Weele light upon ſome fetled low content.

Ad. After goe on, and I will follow thee
To the laſt gaſpe with truth and loyaltie,
From ſeaुentie yeeres, till now almoſt ſourefcore
Here liued I, but now liue here no more
At ſeaुenteene yeeres, many their fortunes ſeeke
But at ſourefcore, it is too late a weeke,
Yet fortune cannot recompence me better
Then to die well, and not my Maſters debtor.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Rofalive for Canimed, Celia for Aliena, and
Clowns, alias Touchſone.

Ref. O Iupiter, how merry are my ſpirits ?

Clo. I care not for my ſpirits, if my legges were not wearie.

Ref. I could finde in my heart to disgrace my mans
apparell, and to cry like a woman: but I muſt comfort

the weaker veſſell, as doublet and hofe ought to ſhow it
ſelfe coragious to petty-coate; therefore courage, good
Aliena.

Cel. I pray you beare with me, I cannot goe no further.

Clo. For my part, I had rather beare with you, then
beare you: yet I should beare no croſſe if I did beare
you, for I thinke you haue no money in your purſe.

Ref. Well, this is the Forreſt of Arden.

Clo. I, now am I in Arden, the more foole I, when I
was at home I was in a better place, but Trauellers muſt
be content.

## Enter Corin and Siluines.

Ref. I, be so good Touchſone: Look you, who comes
here, a young man and an old in ſoleme taunte.

Cor. That is the way to make her ſcorne you full.

Sil. Oh Corin, that thou knewſt how I do loue her,

Cor. I partly gueſſe: for I haue lou'd ere now.

Sil. No Corin, being old, thou canſt not gueſſe,
Though in thy youth thou waſt as true a louer

As euer ſigh'd upon a midnight pillow :

But if thy loue were euer like to mine,

As sure I thinke did neuer man loue so :

How many actions moſt ridiculous,
Haſt thou beene drawne to by thy ſantafie?

Cor. Into a thouſand that I haue forgotten.

Sil. Oh thou didſt then neuer loue to hartily,
If thou remembret not the flighteſt ſolly,
That euer loue did make thee run into,
Thou haſt not lou'd.

Or if thou haſt not fat as I doe now,
Wearing thy hearer in thy Miftris Praife,
Thou haſt not lou'd.

Or if thou haſt not broke from companie,
Abruptly as my paſſion now makes me,
Thou haſt not lou'd.

O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe.

Exit.

Ref. Alas poore Shepherd ſearching of they would,
I haue by hard aduenture found mine owne.

Clo. And I mine: I remember when I was in loue, I
broke my ſword vpon a ſtone, and bid him take that for
comming a night to Iang ſmile, and I remember the kinf-
ſing of her batler, and the Cowes dugs that her prettie
chopt hands had milk'd; and I remember the wooing of a peafcod
inſtead of her, from whom I tooke two
cods, and giuing her them againe, ſaid with weeping
teares, weare theſe for my ſake: wee that are true Lo-
uers, runne into ſtrange capers; but as all is mortall in
nature, ſo is all nature in loue, mortall in ſolly.

Ref. Thou ſpeak'st wifer then thou art ware of.

Clo. Nay, I shall nere be ware of mine owne wit, till
I breake my ſhins againſt it.

Ref. Ione, Ioue, this Shepherd's paſſion,
Is much vpon my fashion.

Clo. And mine, but it growes ſomething ſtale with
mee.

Cel. I pray you, one of you queſtlon you'd man,
If he for gold will giue vs any ſoode,
If faint almoſt to death.

Clo. Holla; you Clowne.

Ref. Peace ſoole, he's not thy kinfman.

Cor. Who cals?

Clo. Your betters Sir.

Cor. Else are they very wretched.

Ref. Peace

As you like it.

193

## Scena Septima.

Enter Duke Sen. & Lord, like Out-lawes.

Du.Sen. I thinke he be transtorm'd into a beaft,
For I can no where finde him, like a man.

1. Lord. My Lord, he is but euen now gone hence,
Heere was he merry, hearing of a Song.

Du.Sen. If he compaſt of iarres, grow Musicaſl,
We ſhall haue ſhortly diſord in the Sphecres :
Go feeke him, tell him I would ſpeake with him.

Enter Iaques.

1. Lord. He faues my labor by his owne approach.

Du.Sen. Why how now Monſieur, what a life is this
That your poore friends muſt woe your companie,
What, you looke merrily.

Iaq. A Foole, a foole: I met a foole i'th Forreſt,
A motley Foole (a miſerable world:)

As I do live by foode, I met a foole,
Who laid him downe, and bask'd him in the Sun,
And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good termes,
In good ſet termes, and yet a motley foole.

Good morrow foole (quoth I:) no Sir, quoth he,
Call me not foole, till heauen hath ſent me fortune,
And then he drew a diall from his poake,

And looking on it, with lacke-luſtre eye,
Sayes, very wifely, it is ten s'clocke:

Thus we may ſee (quoth he) how the world waggles :

'Tis but an houre agoe, ſince it was nine,
And after one houre more,' t'll be eleuen;,

And fo' from houre to houre, we ripe, and ripe,
And then from houre to houre, we rot, and rot,

And thereby hangs a tale. When I did heare
The motley Foole, thus morall on the time,

My Lungs began to crow like Chanticleere,
That Fooleſs ſhould be ſo deepe contemplative :

And I did laugh, ſans intermiſſion

An houre by his diall. Oh noble foole,

A worthy foole: 'Motley's the only weare.

Du.Sen. What foole is this?

Iaq. O worthie Foole: One that hath bin a Courtier
And layes, i'f Ladies be more, and faire,

They haue the gift to know it: and in his braule,
Which is as drie as the remainder bisket

After a voyage: He hath ſtrange places cram'd
With obſeruation, the which he vents

In mangled formes. O that I were a foole,
I am ambitious for a motley coat.

Du.Sen. Thou ſhalt haue one.

Iaq. It is my only ſuite,

Prouided that you weed your better iudgements
Of all opinion that growes ranke in them,

That I am wife, I muſt haue liberty

Wiθall, as large a Charter as the winde,

To blow on whom I pleafe, for so fooles haue :
And they that are moſt gauled with my folly,

They moſt muſt laugh: And why fir muſt they ſo?

The why is plaine, as way to Parif Church :

Hee, that a Foole doth very wifely hit,
Doth very fooliſhly, though he ſmarts

Seeme ſenſeſſe of the bob. If not,

The Wife-mans folly is anathomiz'd

Euen by the squandring glances of the foole.

Inueſt me in my motley: Giue me leane

To ſpeake my minde, and I will through and through
Cleaſe the foule bodie of th'infected world,

If they will patiently receiue my medicine.

Du.Sen. Fie on thee. I can tell what thou wouldſt do.
Iaq. What, for a Counter, would I do, but good?

Du.Sen. Moſt miſcheuous foule ſin, in chiding fin:

For thou thy ſelfe haſt bene a Libertine,

As ſenſuall as the bruitſh ſting it ſelfe,

And all th'imboffed ſores, and headed euils,

That thou with licenſe of free foot haſt caught,

Would'ſt thou diſgorge into the generall world.

Iaq. Why who cries out on pride,

That can therein taxe any priuate party:

Doth it not flow as hugely as the Sea,

Till that the wearie verie meanes do ebbe.

What woman in the Citie do I name,

When that I ſay the City woman beares

The coſt of Princes on vnworthy ſhoulders?

Who can come in, and ſay that I meane her,

When ſuch a one as free, ſuch is her neighbor?

Or what is he of bafeſt function,

That ſayes his brauerie is not on my coſt,

Thinking that I meane him, but therein ſuites

His ſolly to the mettle of my ſpeech,

There then, how then, what then, let me ſee wherein

My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right,

Then he hath wrong'd him ſelfe: if he be free,

why then my taxiing like a wild-gooſe flies

Vnclaim'd of any. Man But who come here?

Enter Orlando.

Orl. Forbeare, and eate no more.

Iaq. Why I haue eate none yet.

Orl. Nor ſhalt not, till neceſſity be ſeru'd.

Iaq. Of what kinde ſhould this Cocke come of?

Du.Sen. Art thou thus bolden'd man by thy diſtress?

Or eſſe a rude deſpifer of good manners,

That in ciuility thou ſeem't ſo empty ?

Orl. You touch'd my veine at first, the thorny point
Of bare diſtreſſe, hath tane from me the ſhew

Of ſmooth ciuility: yet am I in-land bred,

And know ſome nourture: But forbeare, I ſay,

He dies that touches any of this ſruitè,

Till I, and my affaites are anſwer'd.

Iaq. And you will not be anſwer'd with reaſon,

I muſt dye.

Du.Sen. What would you haue?

Your gentlenelſe ſhall force, more then your ſorce

Moue vs to gentlenelſe.

Orl. I almoſt die for food, and let me haue it.

Du.Sen. Sit downe and feed, & welcom to our table

Orl. Speake you ſo gently? Pardon me I pray you,

I thought that all things had bin ſauage heree,

And therefore put I on the countenance

Of ſterne commandment. But what ere you are

That in this defert inaceſſible,

Vnder the shade of melancholly boughes,

Loose, and neglect the creeping hours of time:

If euer you haue look'd on better dayes :

If euer beene where bels haue knell'd to Church :

If euer fate at any good mans ſeaf't :

If euer from your eye-lids wip'd a teare,

And know what 'tis to pittie, and be pittried :

Let gentlenelſe my ſtrong enforcement be,

In the which hope, I blush, and hide my Sword.

R

Duke

As you like it.

194

Du. Sen. True is it, that we haue feene better dayes,
And haue with holy bell bin knowld to Church,
And fat at good mens feafts, and wip'd our eies
Of drops, that sacred pity hath engendred:
And therefore fit you downe in gentlenesse,
And take vpon command, what helpe we haue
That to your wanting may be minifred.

Orl. Then but forbeare your food a little while:
Whiles (like a Doe) I go to finde my Fawne,
And giue it food. There is an old poore man,
Who after me,hath many a weary steppe
Limpt in pure loue : till he be firſt ſuffic'd,
Oppreſt with two weake euils, age, and hunger,
I will not touch a bit.

Duke Sen. Go finde him out.

And we will nothing waſte till you returne.
Orl. I thankc ye, and be bleſſ for your good comfort.

Du. Sen. Thou feeſt, we are not all alone vnhaſping:
This wide and vnliuerfall Theater
Prefents more woſull Pageants then the Scene
Wherein we play in.

Ia. All the world's a ſtage,
And all the men and women, merely Players;
They haue their Exits and their Entrances,
And one man in his time playes many parts,
His Acts being ſeuen ages. At firſt the Infant,
Mewling, and puking in the Nurtſes armes:
Then, the whining Schoole-boy with his Satchell
And ſhining morning face, creeping like ſnaile
Unwillingly to ſchoole. And then the Louer,
Sighing like Furnace, with a woſull ballad
Made to his Miftrefſe eye-brow. Then, a Soldier,
Full of ſtrange oaths, and bearded like the Pard,
Ielous in honor, ſodaine, and quicke in quarrell,
Seeking the bubble Reputation
Euen in the Canons mouth: And then, the Iuſtice,
In faire round belly, with good Capon lin'd,
With eyes ſeuere, and beard of formall cut,
Full of wife faſes, and moderne inſtances,
And so he playes his part. The fixt age shifts
Into the leane and flipper'd Pantaloone,
With ſpectacles on noſe, and pouch on ſide,
His youthfull heſe well ſau'd, a world too wide,
For his ſhrunke ſhanke, and his bigge manly voice,
Turning againe toward childiſh trebbie pipes,
And whiſtles in his found. Laſt Scene of all,
That ends this ſtrange euentfull hiftorie,
Is ſecond childiſhneſſe, and meere obliuion,
Sans teeth, ſans eyes, ſans taſte, ſans euery thing.

Enter Orlando with Alam.

Du Sen. Welcome: let downe your venerable bur-
then, and let him feede.

Orl. I thankc you moſt for him.

Ad. So had you neede,
I ſcarce can ſpeake to thankc you for my ſelfe.

Du. Sen. Welcome, fall too: I wil not trouble you,
As yet to question you about your fortunes:
Giuſ vs ſome Muſſicc, and good Cozen, ſing.

Song.

Blow, blow, thou winter winds,
Thou art not so unkinde, as mans ingratitude
Thy tooth is not so keene, because thou art not keene,
although thy breath be rude.

Heigh ho, ſing heigh ho, vnto the greene holly,
Moft friendliſh, is fayning; moſt Louing, meere ſally:
The heigh ho, the holly,
This Life is moſt ilarious.

Freize, freize, thou bitter skie that doſt not bight so nigh
as benefits ſorbez:
Though thou the waters warpe, thy ſting is not so ſharpe,
as freind remembred not.

Heigh ho, ſing, &c.

Duke Sen. If that you were the good Sir Rowlandes Son,
As you haue whisper'd faithfully you were,
And as mine eye doth his effigies witneſſe,
Moſt truly limn'd, and liuing in your face,
Be truly welcome hither: I am the Duke
That lou'd your Father, the refidue of your fortune,
Go to my Caue, and tell mee. Good old man,
Thou art right welcome, as thy maſters is :
Support him by the arme: giue me your hand,
And let me all your fortunes vnderstand.

Exeunt.

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Duke, Lords, &c. Olivier.

Du. Not fee him ſince? Sir, fir, that cannot be:
But were I not the better part made mercie,
I should not ſeeke an abſent argument
Of my reuenge, thou preſent : but looke to it,
Finde out thy brother wherefore he is,
Seeke him with Candle: bring him dead, or liuing
Within this tweluemonth, or turne thou no more
To ſeeke a liuing in our Territorie.
Thy Lands and all things that thou doſt call thine,
Worth ſeizure, do we ſeize into our hands,
Till thou canſt quit thee by thy brothers mouth,
Of what we thinke againſt thee.

Ol. Oh that your Highneſſe knew my heart in this:
I neuer lou'd my brother in my life.

Duke. More villaine thou. Well pufh him out of dore
And let my officers ofuch a nature
Make an extent vpon his houſe and Lands:
Do this expediently, and turne him going.

Exeunt

Scena Secunda.

Enter Orlando.

Orl. Hang there my verſe, in witneſſe of my loue,
And thou thrice crowned Queene of night ſuruey
With thy chafte eye, from thy pale ſpheare aboue
Thy Huntrefſe name, that my full life doth ſway.
O Refalind, theſe Trees ſhall be my Bookes,
And in their barkes my thoughts Ile characte,
That euerie eye, which in this Forreſt lookes,
Shall fee thy vertue witneſt euery where.
Run, run Orlando, carue on euery Tree,
The faire, the chafte, and vnexpreſſiue ſhewe.

Exit

Enter Corin & Clowne.

Co. And how like you this shepherds life Mr Touchstone?
Cla.

As you like it.

195

Clo. Truely Shepheard, in respect of it selfe, it is a
good life; but in respect that it is a shepheards life, it is
naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it verie well:
but in respect that it is priuate, it is a very vild life. Now
in respect it is in the fields, it pleafeth mee well : but in
respect it is not in the Court, it is tedious. As it is a spare
life (looke you) it fits my humor well: but as there is no
more plentie in it, it goes much against my stomacke.
Has't any Philofophie in thee shepheard?

Cor. No more, but that I know the more one fickens,
the worse at eafe he is : and that hee that wants money,
meanes, and concent, is without three good frends. That
the propertie of raine is to wet, and fire to burne : That
pood pafture makes fat sheepe : and that a great cause of
thenight, is lacke of the Sunne : That hee that hath lea-
ned no wit by Nature, nor Art, may complaine of good
breeding, or comes of a very dull kindred.

Clo. Such a one is a naturall Philofopher:
Was't euer in Court, Shepheard?

Cor. No truly.

Clo. Then thou art damn'd.

Cor. Nay, I hope.

Clo. Truly thou art damn'd, like an ill roasted Egge,
all on one fide.

Cor. For not being at Court? your reafon.

Clo. Why, if thou neuer was't at Court, thou neuer
faw it good manners : if thou neuer faw it good manners,
then thy manners muft be wicked, and wickednes is fin,
and finne is damnation: Thou art in a parlous ſtate shep-
heard.

Cor. Not a whit Touchſt one, that those that are good ma-
ners at the Court, are as ridiculous in the Countrey, as
the behauiour of the Countrie is moſt mockeable at the
Court. You told me, you falute not at the Court, but
you kiffe your hands; that courteſe would be vncleanlie
if Courtiers were shepheards.

Clo. Inſtance, briefly: come, inſtance.

Cor. Why we are full handling our Ewes, and their
Fels you know are greaſe.

Clo. Why do not your Courtiers hands fweate? and
is not the greaſe of a Mutton, as wholeſome as the fweat
of a man? Shallow, shallow: A better inſtance I ſay:
Come.

Cor. Besides, our hands are hard.

Clo. Your lips will feele them the ſooner. Shallow a-
gen: a more founder inſtance, come.

Cor. And they are often tarr'd ouer, with the ſurgery
of our sheepe: and would you haue vs kiffe Tarre? The
Courtiers hands are perfum'd with Ciuet.

Clo. Moſt shallow man: Thou wormes meate in re-
ſpect of a good peecce of fleth indeed: learne of the wifc
and perpend: Ciuet is of a bafe birth then Tarre, the
verie vncleanly fluxe of a Cat. Mend the inſtance Shep-
heard.

Cor. You haue too Courtly a wit, for me, I leſt.

Clo. Wilt thou leſt damn'd? God help thee: shallow
man: God make inciſion in thee, thou art raw.

Cor. Sir, I am a true Labourer, I earne that I earne: get
that I weare; owe no man hate, enuie no mans happi-
nesse: glad of other mens good content with my harme:
and the greatest of my pride, is to see my Ewes graze, &
my Lambes fucke.

Clo. That is another ſimple finne in you, to bring the
Ewes and the Rammes together, and to offer to get your
liuing, by the copulation of Cattle, to be bayd to a Bel-
weather, and to betray a shee-Lambe of a tweluemonth

to a crooked-pated olde Cuckoldy Ramme, out of all
reafonable match. If thou be't not damn'd for this, the
diuell himſelfe will haue no shepherds, I cannot ſee
ſelfe how thou ſhouldſt ſcape.

Cor. Heere comes yong Mr Ganimed, my new Mitrif-
ſes Brother.

Enter Rosalind.

Ros. From the eafe to westerne Inde,
no iewel is like Rosalinde,
Hir worth being mounted on the winde,
through all the world beares Rosalinde.

All the pictures faireſt Linde,
are but blacke to Rosalinde:

Let no face bee kept in mind,
but the faire of Rosalinde.

Clo. Ile time you ſo, eight yeares together; dinners,
and fluppers, and ſleeping hours excepted: it is the right
Butter-womens ranke to Market.

Ros. Out Foole.

Clo. For a tafe.

If a Hart doe lacke a Hinde,
Let him ſeeke out Rosalinde.

If the Cat will after kinde,
ſo be ſure will Rosalinde:

Wintred garments muſt be linde,
ſo muſt slender Rosalinde:

They that reap muſt sheafe and binde,
then to cart with Rosalinde.

Sweeteſt nnt, bath ſowreſt kinde,
such a nut is Rosalinde.

He that sweeteſt rose will finde,
muſt finde Loues pricke, & Rosalinde.

This is the verie falſe gallop of Verſes, why doe you in-
fect your ſelfe with them?

Ros. Peace you dull foole, I found them on a tree.

Clo. Truly the tree yelds bad fruite.

Ros. Ile graſſe it with you, and then I shall graſſe it
with a Medler: then it will be the earlett fruit in the
country: for you'll be rotten ere you bee halfe ripe, and that's
the right vertue of the Medler.

Clo. You haue ſaid: but whether wifely or no, let the
Forreſt iudge.

Enter Celia with a writing.

Ros. Peace, here comes my filter reading, stand aside.

Cel. Why ſhould this Desert bee,
for it is unpeopled? Noe:

Tonges Ile hang on euerie tree,
that shall cinill ſayings ſho.

Some, how briefe the Life of man
runs his erring pilgrimage,

That the stretching of a pan,
buckles in his ſumme of age.

Some of violated voweſ,
twixt the foules of friend, and friend:

But upon the faireſt bowes,
or at euerie ſentence end;

Will I Rosalinda write,
teaching all that reade, to know
The quinteſſence of euerie ſprite,
heauen would in little ſhow.

Therefore heauen Nature charg'd,
that one bodie ſhould be fill'd

With all Graces wide enlarg'd,
nature presently diſtill'd

R2

Helens

196

As you like it.

Helens cheeks, but not his heart,
Cleopatra's Maiestie :

Attalanta's better part,
sad Lucrecia's Modestie.

Thus Rosalinde of manie parts,
by Heanenly Synode was deuis'd,

Of manie faces, eyes, and hearts,
to bawhe the touches deereft pri'd.

Heanen would that (see these gifts) should bawhe,
and I to line and die her flane.

Ros. O most gentle Iupiter, what tedious homilie of Loue haue you wearied your parifhioners withall, and neuer cri'de, haue patience good people.

Cel. How now backe friends: Shepheard, go off a little: go with him firrah.

Cel. Come Shepheard, let vs make an honorable re-
treit, though not with bagge and baggage, yet with
scrip and scrippage.
Exit.

Cel. Didst thou heare these verfes?

Ros. O yes, I heard them all, and more too, for some of them had in them more feete then the Verfes would beare.

Cel. That's no matter: the feet might beare ſ verfes.

Ros. I, but the feet were lame, and could not beare
themselues without the verſe, and therefore (tood lame-
ly in the verſe.

Cel. But didst thou heare without wondering, how thy name should be hang'd and carued vpon theſe trees?

Ros. I was ſeuen of the nine daies out of the wonder,
before you came : for looke heere what I found on a
Palme tree; I was neuer ſo berim d since Pythagoras time
that I was an Irifh Rat, which I can hardly remember.

Cel. Tro you, who hath done this?

Ros. Is it a man?

Cel. And a chaine that you once wore about his neck:
change you colour?

Ros. I pre'thee who?

Cel. O Lord, Lord, it is a hard matter for friends to
meete; but Mountaines may bee remou'd with Earth-
quakes, and ſo encounter.

Ros. Nay, but who is it?

Cel. Is it possible?

Ros. Nay, I pre'thee now, with moſt petitionary ve-
hemence, tell me who it is.

Cel. O wonderfull, wonderfull, and moſt wonderfull
wonderfull, and yet againe wonderful, and after that out
of all hooping.

Ros. Good my compleſtion, doſt thou think though I am caparifon'd like a man, I hane a doublet and hofe in my diſpoſition? One inch of delay more, is a South-ſea of diſcouerie. I pre'thee tell me, who is it quickly, and ſpeake apace: I wouſd thou couldſt flammer, that thou might't powre this conceal'd man out of thy mouth, as Wine comes out of a narrow-mouth'd bottlen either too much at once, or none at all. I pre'thee take the Corke out of thy mouth, that I may drinke thy tydings.

Cel. So you may put a man in your belly.

Ros. Is he of Gods making? What manner of man?
Is his head worth a hat? Or his chin worth a beard?

Cel. Nay, he hath but a little beard.

Ros. Why God will ſend more, if the man will bee
thankful: let me ſay the growth of his beard, if thou
delay me not the knowledge of his chin.

Cel. It is yong Orlando, that tript vp the Wraſtlers
heeles, and your heart, both in an inflant.

Ros. Nay, but the diuell take mocking: ſpeake fadde
brow, and true maid.

Cel. I'faith (Coz) tis he.

Ros. Orlando?

Cel. Orlando.

Ros. Alas the day, what ſhall I do with my doublet &
hofe? What did he when thou ſaw't him? What ſayde
he? How look'd he? Wherein went he? What makes hee
heere? Did he aske for me? Where remaines he ? How
parted he with thee ? And when ſhalt thou ſee him a-
gaine? Anſwer me in one vord.

Cel. You muſt borrow me Gargantuas mouth ſiſt:
'tis a Word too great for any mouth of this Ages ſize,
to ſay I and no, to these particulars, is more then to anſwer
in a Catechisme.

Ros. But doth he know that I am in this Forreſt, and
in mans apparell? Looks he as freshly, as he did the day
he Wraſtled?

Cel. It is as eſſe to count Atomies as to refolue the
propositions of a Louer: but take a tafe of my finding
him, and relliſh it with good obſeruance. I found him
vnder a tree like a drop'd Acorne.

Ros. It may vwell be cal'd loues tree, when it droppes
forth fruite.

Cel. Giue me audience, good Madam.

Ros. Proceed.

Cel. There lay hee stretch'd along like a Wounded
knight.

Ros. Though it be pittie to ſee ſuch a fight, it vwell
becomes the ground.

Cel. Cry holla, to the tongue, I prethee: it curuetttes
vneſationsbly. He was furniſh'd like a Hunter.

Ros. O ominous, he comes to kill my Hart.

Cel. I would ſing my ſong without a burthen, thou
bring't me out of tume.

Ros. Do you not know I am a woman, when I thinke,
I muſt ſpeake: ſweet, ſay on.

Enter Orlando & Iaques.

Cel. You bring me out. Soft, comes he not heere?

Ros. 'Tis he, ſlinde by, and note him.

Iaq. I thanke you for your company, but good faith
I had as liefe haue beene my ſelfe alone.

Orl. And so had I: but yet for ſashion ſake
I thanke you too, for your ſocietie.

Iaq. God buy you, let's meet as little as we can.

Orl. I do define we may be better ſtrangers.

Iaq. I pray you marre no more trees vwith Writing
Loue-fongs in their barkes.

Orl. I pray you marre no moe of my verſes with rea-
ding them ill-fauouredly.

Iaq. Rosalinde is your loues name?

Orl. Yes, Iuſt.

Iaq. I do not like her name.

Orl. There was no thought ofpleasing you when ſhe
was chriften'd.

Iaq. What ſtature is ſhe of?

Orl. Iuſt as high as my heart.

Iaq. You are full of pretty anſwers: haue you not bin ac-
quainted with goldsmiths wiuues, & cond the out of rings?

Orl. Not so: but I anſwer you right painted cloath,
from whence you haue studied your queſtions.

Iaq. You haue a nimble wit; I think't was made of
Attalanta's heeles. Will you ſitte downe with me, and
wee two, will raile againſt our Miftris the world, and all
our miferie.

Orl. I will chide no breather in the world but my ſelfe
against

As you like it.

197

against whom I know no fault.

Iaq. The worst fault you have, is to be in loue.

Iaq. 'Tis a fault I will not change, for your best ver-
tue: I am wearie of you.

Iaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a Foele, when I
found you.

Orl. He is drown'd in the brooke, looke but in, and
you shall see him.

Iaq. There I shall see mine owne figure.

Orl. Which I take to be either a foele, or a Cipher.

Iaq. I let my: I let my: I let my
Ile tarrie no longer with you, farewell good lig-
nior Loue.

Orl. I am glad of your departure: Adieu good Mon-
fleur Melancholly.

Ref. I will speake to him like a sawcie Lacky, and vn-
der that habit play the knaue with him, do you hear For-
der.

Orl. Verie well, what would you ?

(reſſer.)

Ref. I pray you, what is a clocke?

Orl. You should aske me what time o'day: there's no
clocke in the Forreft.

Ref. Then there is no true Louer in the Forreſt, eſſe
fighting euerie minute, and groaning euerie houre wold
deteſt the lazie foot of time, as well as a clocke.

Orl. And why not the Swiftnoofe of time ? Had not
that bin as proper?

Ref. By no meanses fir; Time travels in diuers paces,
with diuers perſons: Ile tel you who Time ambles with-
all, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal,
and who he stands ſtil withall.

Orl. I prethee, who doth he trot withal?

Ref. Marry he trots hard with a young maid, between
the contract of her marriage, and the day it is solemniz'd.
if the interim be but a fennight, Times pace is ſo hard,
that it ſeemes the length of ſeu'n yeare.

Orl. Who ambles Time withal?

Ref. With a Priest that lacks Latine, and a rich man
that hath not the Gowt : for the one sleepes eafily be-
cauſe he cannot ſtudy, and the other liues merrily, be-
cauſe he feeles no paine: the one lacking the burthen of
leane and wafeſtul Learning the other knowing no bur-
then of heauie tedious penurie. These Time ambles
withal.

Orl. Who doth he gallop withal?

Ref. With a theſe to the gallowes: for though hee
go as softely as foot can fall, he thinkes himſelfe too ſoon
there.

Orl. Who ſtaies it ſtil withal?

Ref. With Lawiers in the vacation : for they ſleepe
betweene Terme and Terme, and then they perceiue not
how time moues.

Orl. Where dwel you prettie youth?

Ref. With this Shepharddeſſe my ſifter : heere in the
skirts of the Forreſt, like fringe vpon a petticoat.

Orl. Are you natue of this place ?

Ref. As the Conie that you ſee dwell where ſhee is
kindled.

Orl. Your accent is something finer, then you could
purchaſe in ſo remoued a dwelling.

Ref. I have bin told ſo of many: but indeed, an olde
religious Vnkle of mine taught me to speake, who was
in his youth an inland man, one that knew Courtship too
well: for there he ſel in loue. I haue heard him read ma-
ny Lectors against it, and I thanke God, I am not a Wo-
man to be touch'd with ſo many giddie offences as hee
have generally tax'd their whole ſex withal.

Orl. Can you remember any of the principall euils,

that he laid to the charge of women?

Ref. There were none principal, they were all like
one another, as halfpence are, euerie one fault ſeeming
monſtrous, til his fellow-fault came to match it.

Orl. I prethee recount ſome of them.

Ref. No: I will not caſt away my phyſick, but on that
that are ſicke. There is a man haunts the Forreſt, that a-
buses our yong plants with caruing Rofalinde on their
barkes; hangs Oades vpon Hauthornes, and Elegies on
brambles; all (for ſooth) defying the name of Rofalinde.
If I could meet that Fancie-monger, I would giue him
fome good counſel, for he ſeemes to haue the Quotidian
of Loue vpon him.

Orl. I am he that is ſo Loue-shak'd, I pray you tel
me your remedie.

Ref. There is none of my Vnckles markes vpon you:
he taught me how to know a man in loue: in which cage
of rufines, I am ſure you are not prifoner.

Orl. What were his markes ?

Ref. A leane cheeke, which you haue not: a blew eie
and ſunken, which you haue nor: an vnquieſtable ſpi-
rit, which you haue not: a beard neglefted, which you
haue not: (but I pardon you for that, for ſimply your ha-
uing in beard, is a yonger brothers reuennew) then your
hose should be vngarter'd, your bonnet vnbanded, your
ſleeve vnbutton'd, your ſhoo vntide, and euerie thing
about you, demonſtrating a careſſe deſolation: but you
are no ſuch man; you are rather point deuice in your ac-
couſtrements, as louing your ſelfe, then ſeeming the Lo-
uer of any other.

(I Loue.)

Orl. Faire youth, I would I could make thee beleeue

Ref. Me beleeue it? You may aſſoone make her that
you Loue beleeue it, which I warrant ſhe is apt to do,
then to conſeſſe ſhe do's: that is one of the points, in the
which women ſtil giue the lie to their conſciences. But
in good ſooth, are you he that hangs the verſes on the
Trees, wherein Rofalind is ſo admired ?

Orl. I ſware to thee youth, by the white hand of
Rofalind, I am that he, that vnfortunate he.

Ref. But are you ſo much in loue, as your rimes ſpeak?

Orl. Neither time nor reaſon can expreſſe how much.

Ref. Loue is meerely a madneſſe, and I tel you, de-
fecues as wel a darke houſe, and a whip, as madmen do:
and the reaſon why they are not ſo puniſh'd and cured, is
that the Lunacie is ſo ordinarie, that the whippers are in
loue too: yet I proſeſſe curing it by counſel.

Orl. Did you euer cure any ſo?

Ref. Yes one, and in this manner. Hee was to imagine me his Loue, his Miftris: and I ſet him euerie day to wo me. At which time would I, being but a mooniſh youth, greeue, be effeminate, changeable, longing, and liking, proud, fantaſtical, apſih, ſhallow, inſconstant, ſul of teares, full of ſmi'es; for euerie paffion ſomething, and for no paffion truly any thing, as boyes and women are for the moſt part, cattle of this colour: would now like him, now loath him: then entertaine him, then forſwear him: now weepe for him, then ſpit at him; that I draue my Sutor from his mad humor of loue, to a liuing humor of madnes, w was to forſware the ful ſtream of ſ world, and to liue in a nooke meerly Monaſtick: and thus I cur'd him, and this way wil I take vpon mee to waſh your Lier as cleane as a found ſheepes heart, that there ſhal not be one ſpot of Loue in't.

Orl. I would not be cured, youth.

Ref. I would cure you, if you would but call me Rſu-
lind, and come euerie day to my Coat, and woe me.

R 3

Orl.

198

As you like it.

Orlan. Now by the faith of my loue, I will: Tel me where it is.

Ref. Go with me to it, and Ile shew it you: and by the way, you shal tell me, where in the Forreft you liue: Wil you go?

Orl. With all my heart, good youth: - Ref. Nay, you muft call mee Refalind: Come fiftter,

will you go? Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Clowne, Andrey, & Iaques:

Clo. Come apace good Audrey, I wil fetch vp your Goates, Andrey, and how Andrey am I the man yet? Doth my fimple feature content you?

Aud. Your features, Lord warrant vs: what features?

Clo. I am here with thee, and thy Goats, as the moſt capricious Poet honest Ouid was among the Gothes.

Iag. O knowledge ill inhabited, worſe then loue in a thatch'd houſe.

Clo. When a man's verſes cannot be vnderſtood, nor a man's good wit ſeconded with the forward childe, vnderstanding, it strikes a man more dead then a great reſoning in a little roome; truly, I would the Gods hadde made thee poeticall.

And. I do not know what Poetical is: is it honest in deed and word: is it a true thing?

Clo. No truelie : for the trueſt poëtrie is the moſt ſaſing, and Louers are guien to Poëtrie : and what they ſweare in Poëtrie, may be faid as Louers, they do ſeigne.

Aud. Do you wifh then that the Gods had made me Poeticall?

Clo. I do truly : for thou ſwear it to me thou art honef: Now if thou wert a Poet, I might haue ſome hope thou didſt ſeigne.

Aud. Would you not haue me honest?

Clo. No truly, vinſſe thou were: hard fatuour'd : for honeftie coupled to beautitie, is to haue Honie a ſawce to Sugar.

Iag. A materiall foole.

Aud. Well, I am not faire, and therefore I pray the Gods make me honest.

Clo. Truly, and to caſt away honeftie vppon a ſoule flut, were to put good meate into an vncleane diſh.

Aud. I am not a flut, though i thanke the Goddes I am ſoule.

Clo. Well, praſed be the Gods, for thy ſoulneſſe; flutſtihneſſe may come heereafter. But be it, as it may bee, I wil marrie thee: and to that end, I haue bin with Sir Oliver Mar-text, the Vicar of the next village, who hath promis'd to meete me in this place of the Forreſt, and to couple vs.

Iag. I would faire ſee this meeting.

Aud. Wel, the Gods giue vs ioy.

Clo. Auen. A man may if he were of a fearful heart, ſtagger in this attempt: for heere wee haue no Temple but the wood, no ſaffembly but horne-beaſts. But what though? Courage. As hornes are odious, they are neceſſarie. It is ſaid, many a man knowes no end of his goods; right: Many a man has good Hornes, and knows no end of them. Well, that is the dowrie of his wife, 'tis none of his owne getting; hornes, euen ſo poore men alone:

No, no, the nobleft Deere hath them as huge as the Raf call: Is the ſingle man therefore bleſſed? No, as a wall'd Towne is more worthier then a village, ſo is the forehead of a married man, more honourable then the base brow of a Batcheller: and by how much defence is better then no skill, by ſo much is a horne more precious then to want.

Enter Sir Oliver Mar-text.

Heere comes Sir Oliver: Sir Oliver Mar-text you are wel met. Will you diſpatch vs heere vnder this tree, or ſhal we go with you to your Chappell?

Ol. Is there none here to giue the woman?

Clo. I will not take her on guift of any man.

Ol. Truly the muſt be guien, or the marriage is not lawfull.

Iag. Proceed, proceede: Ile giue her.

Clo. Good euen good Mr what ye cal't: how do you Sir, you are verie well met: - goddild you for your laſt companie, I am verie glad to fee you, euen a toy in hand heere Sir: Nay, pray be couer'd.

Iag. Wil you be married, Motley?

Clo. As the Oxe hath his bow fir, the horse his curſ, and the Falcon her bels, so man hath his deſires, and as Pigeons bill, ſo wedlocke would be nibling.

Iag. And wil you (being a man of your breeding) be married vnder a buſh like a begger? Get you to church, and haue a good Prief that can tel you what marriage is, this fellow wil but ioyne you together, as they ioyne Wainſcot, then one of you wil proue a ſhrunke pannell, and like greene timber, warpe, warpe.

Clo. I am not in the minde, but I were better to beet married of him then of another, for he is not like to marrie me wel: and not being wel married, it will be a good excuse for me heereafter, to leaue my wife.

Iag. Goe thou with mee,

And let me counsel thee.

Clo: Come sweete Audrey,

We muſt be married, or we muſt liue in baudrey:

Fatewel good Mr Oliver: Not O sweet Oliver, O braue Oliver leane me not behind thee: But winde away, bee gone I fy, I will not with wedding with thee.

Ol. 'Tis no matter; Ne're a ſantaſtical knaue of them all ſhal flout me out of my calling. Exeunt

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Refalind & Celia.

Ref. Neuer talke to me. I wil weepe.

Cel. Do I prethee, but yet haue the grace to confider, that teares do not become a man.

Ref. But haue I not cauſe to weepe?

Cel. As good cauſe as one would deſire, Therefore weepe. -

Ref. His very haire

Is of the diſlembling colour.

Cel. Something browner then Iudaſſes:

Marrie his kiffes are Iudaſſes owne children.

Ref. I'faith his haire is of a good colour.

Cel. An excellent colour:

Your Cheſſenut was euer the only colour:

Ref. And his kiffing is as ful of ſanctitie, As the touch of holy bread.

Cel.

As you like it.

200

Come Sifter: She heard erdeffe, looke on him better
And be not proud, though all the world could see,
None could be so abusive in fight as hee.

Come, to our flocke,
Exist.
Phe. Dead Shepheard, now I find thy law of might,
Who euer lov'd, that lou'd not at first fight?

Sil. Sweet Phebe.

Phe. Hah: what faist thou Siluins?

Sil. Sweet Phebe pretty me.

Phe. Why I am forry for thee gentle Siluins.

Sil. Where euer forrow is, reliefe would be:

If you doe forrow at my griefe in loue,

By giuing loue your forrow, and my griefe

Were both extermin'd.

Phe. Thou haft my loue, is not that neighbourly?

Sil. I would haue you.

Phe. Why that were couetouneffe :

Siluins; the time was, that I hated thee;

And yet it is not, that I beare thee loue,

But since that thou canst talke of loue so well,

Thy company, which erst was irkefome to me

I will endure; and Ile employ thee too :

But doe not looke for further recompence

Then thine owne gladneffe, that thou art employd.

Sil. So holy, and so perfect is my loue,
And I in such a povertie of grace,
That I fhall thinke it a moft plenteous crop
To gleane the broken eares after the man
That the maine harueft reapes: loose now and then

A scattred smile, and that Ile liue vpon.
(while ?

Phe. Knowſt thou the youth that spoke to mee yere?

Sil. Not very well, but I haue met him oft,

And he hath bought the Cottage and the bounds

That the old Carlot once was Mafter of,

Phe. Thinke not I loue him, though I ask for him,
'Tis but a peevish boy, yet he talkes well,
But what care I for words ? yet words do well
When he that speaks them pleafes that heare:

It is a pretty youth, not very prettie,

But fure hee's proud, and yet his pride becomes him;

Hee'll make a proper man: the beſt thing in him

Is his complexion: and falder then his tongue

Did make a ſoffence, his eye did heale it vp :

He is not very tall, yet for his yceers hee's tall :

His leg is but fo, and yet 'tis well :

There was a pretty redneſſe in his lip,

A little riper, and more luſtie red

Then that mixt in his cheeke: 'twas iuſt the difference
Betwixt the conſtant red, and mingled Damaske.

There be ſome women Siluins, had they markt him

In parcells as I did, would haue gone neere

To fall in loue with him : but for my part

I loue him not, nor hate him not : and yet

Hauë more cauſe to hate him then to loue him,

For what had he to doe to chide at me ?

He ſaid mine eyes were black, and my haire blacke,

And now I am remembred, ſcorn'd at me :

I maruell why I anſwer'd not againe,

But that's all one: omittance is no quittance :

Ile write to him a very tanting Letter,

And thou ſhalt beare it, wilt thou Siluins?

Sil. Phebe, with all my heart.

Phe. Ile write it ſtrait :

The matter in my head, and in my heart,
I will be bitter with him, and paſſing short;

Goe with me Siluins.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Rofalind, and Celia, and Iaques.

Iaq. I prethee, pretty youth, let me better acquainted with thee.

Rof. They ſay you are a melancholly fellow,

Iaq. I am fo: I doe loue it better then laughing,

Rof. That ſhout that are in extremity of either, are abhor-
derable fellowes, and betray them ſelues to euery me-
derne cenſure, worſe then drunkards.

Iaq. Why, 'tis good to be ſad and ſay nothing.

Rof. Why then'tis good to be a poſte.

Iaq. I haue neither the Schollers melancholy, which is emulation : nor the Muffitans, which is fantastically; nor the Courtiers, which is proud : nor the Souldiers, which is ambitious : nor the Lawiers, which is politick; nor the Ladies, which is nice : nor the Louers, which is all theſe: but it is a melancholy of mine owne, compound of many ſimples, extracted from many obiects, and indeed the fundrie contemplation of my trauells, in which by often rumination, wraps me in a moſt humorous ſadneſſe.

Rof. A Traueller: by my faith you haue great rea-
ſon to be ſad: I feare you haue ſold your owne Lands,
to fee other mens; then to haue ſeene much, and to haue
nothing, is to haue rich eyes and poore hands,

Iaq. Yes, I haue gain'd my experience.

Enter Orlando.

Rof. And your experience makes you ſad: I had n-
ther haue a ſoole to make me merrie, then experience to
make me ſad, and to traubaile for it too.

Orl. Good day, and happineſſe, deere Rofalind.

Iaq. Nay then God buy you, and you talke in blaſſe
verſe.

Rof. Farewell Mounſieur Trauellor : looke you
lifſe, and weare ſtrange ſuites; diſable all the benefits
of your owne Countrie: be out of loue with your
nauitiuſt, and almoſt chide God for making you that
countenance you are; or I will ſcarce thinke you haue
ſwam in a Gundello. Why how now Orlando, where
haue you bin all this while? you a louer? and you
ferue me ſuch another tricke, neuer come in my fight
more.

Orl. My faire Rofalind, I come within an houre of my
promife.

Rof. Breake an houres promife in loue? hee that
will diuide a minute into a thousand parts, and breake
but a part of the thousand part of a minute in the affairs
of loue, it may be ſaid of him that Cupid hath clapt
him oth' shoulder, but Ile warrant him heart hole.

Orl. Pardon me deere Rofalind.

Rof. Nay, and you be so tardie, come no more in my
fight, I had as lief be woo'd of a Snaile.

Orl. Of a Snaile?

Rof. I, of a Snaile: for though he comes flowely, hee
carries his houſe on his head; a better ioyneſture I thinke
then you make a woman: besides, he brings his deftine
with him.

Orl. What's that?

Rof. Why hornes: w ſuch as youare faine to be be-
holding to your wiues for: but he comes armed in his
fortune, and preuents the ſlander of his wife.

Orl. Vertue

As you like it.

201

Orl. Vertue is no horne-maker : and my Rofalind his
vertuous.

Ref. And I am your Rofalind.

Cel. It pleases him to call you so: but he hath a Rofalind of a better leere then you.

Ref. Come, wooe me, wooe mee : for now I am in a
holy-day humor, and like enough to consent: What
would you say to me now, and I were your verie, verie
Rofalind?

Orl. I would kiffe before I spoke.

Ref. Nay, you were better speake first, and when you
were gruel'd, for lacke of matter, you might take oc-
casion to kiffe: ver' good Orators when they are out,
they will spit, and for louers, lacking (God warne vs)
matter, the cleanliet shift is to kiffe.

Orl. How if the kiffe be denide ?

Ref. Then she puts you to entreatie, and there begins
new matter.

Orl. Who could be out, being before his beloved
Miftris ?

Ref. Marrie that should you if I were your Miftris,
orl should thinke my honestie ranker then my wit.

Orl. What, of my suite?

Ref. Not out of your apparell, and yet out of your
suite :

Am not I your Rofalind?

Orl. I take some ioy to say you are, because I would
be talking of her.

Ref. Well, in her person, I say I will not have you.

Orl. Then in mine owne person, I die.

Ref. No faith, die by Attorney : the poore world is
almost fix thousand yeeres old, and in all this time there
was not anie man died in his owne person (videlicet) in
a loue caufe : Trotous had his braines dafh'd out with a
Grecian club, yet he did what hee could to die before,
and he is one of the patterns of loue. Leander, he would
haue liu'd manie a faire yeere though Hero had turn'd
Nun; if it had not bin for a hot Midfomer-night, for
(good youth) he went but forth to wafh him in the Hel-
lelpont, and being taken with the crampe, was droun'd,
and the foolish Chronoclers of that age, found it was
Hero of Ceftos. But thefe are all lies, men haue died
from time to time, and wormes haue eaten them, but not
for loue.

Orl. I would not have my right Rofalind of this mind,
for I proteft her frowne might kill me.

Ref. By this hand, it will not kill a flie: but come,
now I will be your Rofalind in a more comming-on dif-
position : and ask me what you will, I will grant it.

Orl. Then loue me Rofalind.

Ref. Yes faith will I, fridaies and faterdaies, and all.

Orl. And wile thou haue me?

Ref. I, and twentie such.

Orl. What faieft thou ?

Ref. Are you not good?

Orl. I hope so.

Rofalind. Why then, can one desire too much of a
good thing: Come fitter, you shall be the Prief, and
marrie vs: give me your hand Orlando : What doe you
say fitter?

Ref. Pray thee marrie vs.

Cel. I cannot say the words.

Ref. You must begin, will you Orlando.

Cel. Goe too: wil you Orlando, haue to wife this Rofalind?

Orl. I will.

Ref. I, but when ?

Orl. Why now, as faft as she can marrie vs.

Ref. Then you muft say, I take thee Rofalind for
wife.

Orl. I take thee Rofalind for wife.

Ref. I might aske you for your Commission,
But I doe take thee Orlando for my husband : there's a
girle goes before the Prief, and certainly a Womans
thought runs before her actions.

Orl. So do all thoughts, they are wing'd.

Ref. Now tell me how long you would haue her, after you haue poffeft her ?

Orl. For euer, and a day.

Ref. Say a day, without the euer: no, no Orlando, men
are Aprill when they woe, December when they wed :
Maides are May when they are maides, but the sky chan-
ges when they are wiués: I will bee more icalous of
thee, then a Barbary cocke-pidgeon ouer his hen, more
clamorous then a Parrat againſt raine, more new-fang-
ed then an ape, more giddy in my desires, then a mon-
key: I will weepe for nothing, like Diana in the Foun-
taine, & I wil do that when you are dispos'd to be merry:
I will laugh like a Hyen, and that when thou art inclin'd
to fleeep.

Orl. But will my Rofalind doe so?

Ref. By my life, she will doe as I doe.

Orl. O but she is wife.

Ref. Or else shee could not haue the wit to doe this :
the wifer, the waywarder : make the doores upon a wo-
mans wit, and it will out at the caufement: (but that, and
'twill out at the key-hole: stop that, 'twill flie with the
fimoake out at the chimney.

Orl. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might
fay, wit whether wil't?

Ref. Nay, you might keepe that checke for it, till you
met your wiués wit going to your neighbours bed.

Orl. And what wit could wit haue, to execute that?

Refa. Marry to fay, she came to feeke you there: you
SHall neuer take her without her anſwer, vnleſſe you take
her without her tongue : Ó that woman that cannot
make her fault her huſbands occasion, let her neuer nurſe
her childe her ſelſe, for ſhe will breed it like a ſoole.

Orl. For theſe two hours Rofalinde, I will leave thee.

Ref. Alas, deere loue, I cannot lacke thee two hours.

Orl. I muſt attend the Duke at dinner, by two a clock
I will be with thee againe.

Ref. I, goe your waies, goe your waies: I knew what
you would proue, my friends told mee as much, and I
thought no leſſe: that flattering tongue of yours wonne
me: 'tis but one caſt away, and so come death : two o'
clocke is your howre.

Orl. I, Iweet Rofalind.

Ref. By my troth, and in good earneſt, and so God
mend mee, and by all pretty oathes that are not dange-
rous, if you breake one iot of your promife, or come one
minute behinde your houre, I will thinke you the moſt
patheticall breake-promife, and the moſt hollow louer,
and the moſt vnworthy ot her you call Rofalinde, that
may bee chosen out of the groſſe band of the vnſaith-
full: therefore beware my cenſure, and keep your pro-
mife.

Orl. With no leſſer religion, then if thou wert indeed
my Rofalind: to adieu.

Ref. Well, Time is the olde Juitce that examines all
fuch offenders, and let time try: adieu. Ext.

Cel. You have simply miſus'd our ſexe in your loue-
prate:

As you like it.

202

prate: we must haue your doublet and hofe pluckt ouer
your head, and shew the world what the bird hath done
to her owne naft.

Rof. O coz, coz, coz: my pretty little coz, that thou
didst know how many fathome deepe I am in loue : but
it cannot bee founded: my affection hath an vnknowne
bottome, like the Bay of Portugall.

Cel. Or rather bottomlesse, that as faſt as you pour
affection in, in runs out.

Rof. No, that fame wicked Baſtard of Venus, that was
begot of thought, concei'd of ſpleene, and borne of
madneſſe, that blinde rafſaſely boy, that abufes every
ones eyes, because his owne are out, let him bee iudge,
how deepe I am in loue: ile tell thee Aliena, I cannot be
out of the fight of Orlando: Ile goe finde a ſhadow, and
ſigh till he come.

Cel. And Ile ſleepe.

Exeunt.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Iaques and Lords, Forreſters.

Iaq. Which is he that killed the Deare?

Lord. Sir, it was I.

Iaq. Let's preſent him to the Duke like a Romane
Conquerour, and it would doe well to fet the Deares
horns vpon his head, for a branch of victory; haue you
no ſong Forreſter for this purpose?

Lord. Yes Sir.

Iaq. Sing it: 'tis no matter how it bee in tune, ſo you
make noyle enough.

Muſſicke, Song.

What ſhall he haue that kild the Deare?

His Leather skin, and hornes to weare :

Then ſing him home, the reſt ſhall beare this burthen ;

Take thou no ſcorne to weare the horne,

It was a creſt ere thou waſt borne,

Thy fatners father wore it,

And thy father bore it,

The horne, the horne, the luſty horne,

Is not a thing to lauſh to ſcorne.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Rosalind and Celia.

Rof. How ſay you now, is it not paſt two a clock ?
And heere much Orlando.

Cel. I warrant you, with pure loue, & troubled brain,

Enter Silvius.

He hath t'ane his bow and arrowes, and is gone forth
To ſleepe: looke who comes heere.

Sil. My errand is to you, faire youth,

My gentle Phebe, did bid me give you this :

I know not the contents, but as I gueſſe

By the ſterne brow, and waſpife action.

Which ſhe did vſe, as ſhe was writing of it,

It beares an angry renure; pardon me,

I am but as a guilſtlesſe meſſenger.

Rof. Patience her ſelfe would ſtartle at this letter,

And play the ſwaggerer, beare this, beare all:
Shee faies I am not faire, that I lacke manners,
She calls me proud, and that ſhe could not loue me
Were man as rare as Phenix : 'od's my will,
Her loue is not the Hare that I doe hunt,
Why writes ſhe so to me? well Shepheard, well,
This is a Letter of your owne deuice.

Sil. No, I proteſt, I know not the contents,
Phebe did write it.

Rof. Come, come, you are a fool,
And turn'd into the extremity of loue.

I faw her hand, ſhe has a leatherne hand,

A freeſone coloured hand : I verily did thinke

That her old gloues were on, but twas her hands:

She has a hufwiuſe hand, but that's no matter :

I fay ſhe neuer did inuent this letter,
This is a mans inuention, and his hand.

Sil. Sure it is hers.

Rof. Why, tis a boy ſterous and a cruell ſtle,

A ſtle for challengers: why, ſhe defies me,

Like Turke to Chriſtian : vvomens gentle braine

Could not drop forth ſuch giant rude inuention,

Such Ethiop vvords, blacker in their effect

Then in their countenance : vvill you heare the letter?

Sil. So pleafe you, for I neuer heard it yet;

Yet heard too much of Phebeſ crueltie.

Rof. She Phebe me: marke how the tyrant vrites.

Read. Art thou god, to Shepherd turn'd?

That a maidens heart bath burn'd.

Can a vwoman raiſe thus?

Sil. Call you this railing?

Rof. Read. Why, thy godhead laid a part,

Wart thou with a woman's heart?

Did you euer heare ſuch railing?

Whiles the eye of man did woe me,

That could do no vengeance to me.

Meaning me a beaſt.

If the ſcorne of your bright eina

Hane power to raiſe ſich loue in mine,

Alacke, in me, what ſtrange effect

Would they worke in milde a ſpect?

Whiles you chid me, I did loue,

How then mights your prayers mone?

He that brings this loue to thee,

Little knowes this Loue in me :

And by him ſeale up thy minde,

Whether that thy youth and kindneſſ

Will the faithfull offer take

Of me, and all that I can make,

Or else by him my loue denie,

And then Ile studie how to die.

Sil. Call you this chiding?

Cel. Alas poore Shepheard.

Rof. Doe you pitty him ? No, he deferues no pitty:
wilt thou loue ſuch a woman ? what to make thee an in-
frument, and play false ſtraines vpon thee? not to be en-
dur'd. Well, goe your way to her ; (for I ſce Loue hath
made thee a tame ſnake) and ſay this to her; That if ſhe
loue me, I charge her to loue thee : if ſhe will not, I will
neuer haue her, vnleſſe thou intreat for her : if you be a
true louer hence, and not a word ; for here comes more
company.

Exit. Sil.

Enter Oliuer.

Oliu. Good morrow, faire ones: pray you, (if you
Where in the Purlews of this Forreſt, stands

As you like it.

203

A sheep-coat, fenc'd about with Oliue-trees.

Cel. Weft of this place, down in the neighbor bottom
The rank of Oziers, by the murmuring ftreame
Left on your right hand, brings you to the place:
But at this howre, the house doth keepe it selfe,
There's none within.

Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue,
Then should I know you by description,
Such garments, and fuch yeeres: the boy is faire,
Of femall fauour, and befrowes himselfe
Like a ripe fter : the woman low
And broader then her brother: are not you

The owner of the house I did enquire for?

Cel. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say we are.

Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both,
And to that youth he calls his Rosalind,
He fends this bloudy napkin; are you he ?

Ref. I am: what must we vnderstand by this?

Oli. Some of my fame, if you will know of me
What man I am, and how, and why, and where
This handkercher was (taint'd,

Cel. I pray you tell it.

Oli. When left the yong Orlando parted from you,
He left a promife to returne againe

Within an houre, and pacing through the Forreft,
Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancie,
Loe what befell : he threw his eye aside,
And marke what obiect did preſent it ſelfe

Under an old Oake, whose bows were moſt'd with age
And high top, bald, and with drie antiquitie:

A wretched ragged man, ore-growne with haire
Lay sleeping on his back; about his necke
A greene and gilded snake had wreath'd it ſelfe,
Who with her head, nimble in threats approach'd

The opening of his mouth: but fodainly
Seeing Orlando, it vnlink'd it ſelfe,

And with indented glides, did flip away

Into a buff, vnder which buffres ſhade
A Lyonneſſe, with vdders all drawne drie,

Lay cowching head on ground, with catlike watch
When that the sleeping man should flirre; for'tis

The royall dispoſition of that beaſt

To prey on nothing, that doth feeme as dead:
This ſeene, Orlando did approach the man,

And found it was his brother, his elder brother.

Cel. O I haue heard him (speak of that fame brother,
And he did render him the moſt vnnaturall
That liu'd amongst men.

Oli. And well he might ſo doe,

For well I know he was vnnaturall.

Ref. But to Orlando: did he leaue him there

Food to the fuck'd and hungry Lyonneſſe ?

Oli. Twice did he turne his backe, and purpós'd ſo :
But kindneſſe, nobler euer then reuenge,

And Nature ſtronger then his iuſt occasion,

Made him giue battell to the Lyonneſſe :

Who quickly fell before him, in which hurtling

From miferable flumber I awaked.

Cel. Are you his brother ?

Ref. Was't you he reſc'u'd?

Cel. Was't you that did ſo oft contriue to kill him?

Oli. 'Twas I: but 'tis not I: I doe not ſhame

To tell you what I was, since my conuerſion
So fweetly taſtes, being the thing I am.

Ref. But for the bloody napkin?

Oli. By and by :

When from the firſt to laſt betwixt vs two,

Teares our recountments had moſt kindly bath'd,
As how I came into that Defert place.

I briefe, he led me to the gentle Duke,
Who gaue me fresh aray, and entertainment,
Committing me vnto my brothers loue.

Who led me instantly vnto his Caeue,
There stript himselfe, and heere vpon his arme

The Lyonneſſe had torne ſome fresh away,
Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted,
And cride in fainting vpon Rosalind.

Briefe, I recouer'd him, bound vp his wound,
And after ſome ſmall ſpace, being ſtrong at heart,
He ſent me hither, ſtranger as I am

To tell this ſtory, that you might excufe

His broken promife, and to giue this napkin

Died in this bloud, vnto the Shepheard youth,

That he in ſport doth call his Rosalind.

Cel. Why how now Ganimed, ſweet Ganimed.

Oli. Many will ſwoon when they do look on bloud.

Cel. There is more in it; Cofen Ganimed.

Oli. Looke, he recouers.

Ref. I would I were at home.

Cel. Wee'll lead you thither:

I pray you will you take him by the arme.

Oli. Be of good cheere youth: you a man?

You lacke a mans heart.

Ref. I doe ſo, I confecſe it:

Ah, ſirra, a body would thinke this was well counterfei-
ted, I pray you tell your brother how well I counterfei-
ted: heigh-ho.

Oli. This was not counterfeit, there is too great te-
ſtimony in your complexion, that it was a paffion of ear-
neſt.

Ref. Counterfeit, I affure you.

Oli. Well then, take a good h'art, and counterfeit to
be a man.

Ref. So I doe : but yfaith, I should haue beene a wo-
man by right

Cel. Come, you looke paler and paler: pray you draw
homewards: good fir, goe with vs.

Oli. That will I: for I muſt beare anſwere backe
How you excufe my brother, Rosalind.

Ref. I ſhall deuife ſomething: but I pray you com-
mend my counterfeiting to him: will you goe ?

Excunt.

## Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

### Enter Clowne and Awdrie.

Clow. We shall finde a time Awdrie, patience gen-
tle Awdrie.

Awd. Faith the Prieft was good enough, for all the
olde gentlemens ſaying.

Clow. A moſt wicked Sir Oliver, Awdrie, a moſt vile
Mar-text. But Awdrie, there is a youth heere in the
Forreft layes claime to you.

Awd. I, I know who 'tis: he hath no intereſt in me
in the world: here comes the man you meane.

### Enter William.

Clo. It is meat and drinke to me to see a Clowne, by
my

As you like it.

204

my troth, we that haue good wits, haue much to answer for: we shall be flouting: we cannot hold.

Will. Good eu'n *Audrey*.

And. God ye good eu'n *William*.

Will. And good eu'n to you *Sir*.

Clo. Good eu'n gentle friend. Cover thy head, couer thy head: Nay prethee bee couer'd: How olde are you? Friend?

Will. Fine and twentie *Sir*.

Clo. A ripe age: Is thy name *William*?

Will. *Williams*, *Sir*.

Clo. A faire name. Was't borne i'th' Forrest heere?

Will. I fir, I thank you *God*.

Clo. Thanke God: A good answer:

Art rich?

Will. Faith *Sir*, *fo*, *fo*.

Clo. So, so, is good, very good, very excellent good: and yet it is not, it is but so, so:

Art thou wife?

Will. I fir, I have a prettie wit.

Clo. Why, thou faist well, I do now remember a faying: The Foole doth thinke he is wife, but the wifeman knowes himselve to be a Foole. The Heathen Philoso- pher, when he had a desire to eate a Grape, would open his lips when he put it into his mouth, meaning thereby, that Grapes were made to eate, and lippes to open. You do loue this maid?

Will. I do fit.

Clo. Give me your hand: Art thou Learned ?

Will. No fir.

Clo. Then learne this of me, To haue, is to haue. For it is a figure in Rhetoricke, that drink being pow'r'd out of a cup into a glaſſe, by filling the one, doth empty the other. For all your Writers do consent, that *ipse* is hee: now you are not *ipse*, for I am he.

Will. Which he fir?

Clo. He fir, that must marrie this woman: Therefore you Clowne, abandon: which is in the vulgar, leaue the ſocietie: which in the boorilſh, is companie, of this ſemale: which in the common, is woman: which together, is, abandon the ſociety of this Female, or Clowne thou perſiſhe: or to thy better understanding, dyclt; or (to wit) I kill thee, make thee away, translate thy life into death, thy libertie into bondage: I will deale in poyſon with thee, or in baſtinaſo, or in fleele: I will bandy with thee in faction, I will ore-run thee with police: I will kill thee a hundred and fifty wayes, therefore tremble and depart.

Aud. Do good *William*.

Will. God reſt you merry *Sir*.

Exit

Enter Corin.

Cor. Our Mother and Miftreſſe ſeekeſ you: come away, away.

Clo. Trip *Audry*, trip *Audry*, I attend, I attend.

Exeunt

Scena Secunda.

Enter Orlando & Oliver.

Orl. Is't poffible, that on ſo little acquaintance you should like her ? that, but ſeeing, you should loue her?

And louing wool and wooing, she ſhould graunt: And will you perſeuer to enjoy her?

Orl. Neither call the giddinesſe of it in question: the poutterie of her, the ſmall acquaintance, my ſodaine woying, nor ſodaine contening: but ſay with mee, I loue *Aliena*: ſay with her, that ſhe loues mee; contening with both, that we may enioy each other: it ſhall be to your good: for my fathers house, and all the reuennew, that was old Sir *Rowlands* will I eſtate upon you, and heere lie and die a Shepherd.

Enter Rosalind.

Orl. You hane my contening.

Let your Wedding be to morrow: thither will I Enuite the Duke, and all's contented followers:

Go you, and prepare *Aliena*; for looke you, Heere comes my *Rosalinde*.

Ros. God faue you brother.

Orl. And you faire firſter.

Ros. Oh my deere *Orlando*, how it greecues me to fee thee weare thy heart in a ſcarſe.

Orl. It is my arme.

Ros. I thought thy heart had beene wounded with the claws of a Lion.

Orl. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a Lady.

Ros. Did your brother tell you how I counterſeyled to found, when he ſhew'd me your handkercher?

Orl. I, and greater wonders then that.

Ros. O, I know where you are: nay, tis true: there was neuer any thing so ſodaine, but the fight of two Rammes, and *Cefars* I hraſonicall bragge of I came, ſaw, and ouercome. For your brother, and my firſter, no ſooner met, but they look'd: no ſooner look'd, but they lou'd: no ſooner lou'd, but they ſigh'd: no ſooner ſigh'd but they ask'd one another the reaſon: no ſooner knew the reaſon, but they ſought the remedie: and in theſe degrees, haue they made a paire of ſlaires to marriage, which they will climbie incontinent, or else be incontinent before marriage; they are in the verie wrath of lone, and they will together. Clubbes cannot part them.

Orl. They shall be married to morrow: and I will bid the Duke to the Nuptiall. But O, how bitter a thing it is, to looke into happines through another mans eies: by ſo much the more ſhall I to morrow be at the height of heart heauinesſe, by how much I ſhal thinke my brother happie, in hauing what he wishes for.

Ros. Why then to morrow, I cannot ferue your turne for *Rosalind*?

Orl. I can lie no longer by thinking.

Ros. I will wearie you then no longer with idle vaning. Know of me then (for now I ſpeake to some purpope) that I know you are a Gentleman of good conceit: I ſpeake not this, that you ſhould beare a good opinion of my knowledge: into much (I ſay) I know you arc neither do I labor for a greater eſteme then may in ſome little meaſure draw a beleefe from you, to do your ſelfe good, and not to grace me. Beleeue then, if you pleafe, that I can do ſtrange things: I haue ſince I was three yeare old conuerſt with a Magitian, moſt profound in his Art, and yet not damnable. If you do loue *Rosalinda* ſo neere the hart, as your geſture cries it out: when your brother marries *Aliena*, shall you marrie her. I know into what Straights of Fortune ſhe is druien, and it is not impoſſible to me, if it appeare not inconuenient to you,

As you like it.

205

to let her before your eyes to morrow, humane as she is,
and without any danger.

Orl. Speak it thou in sober meanings?

Ref. By my life I do, which I tender dcerly, though
I say I am a Magitian : Therefore e put you in your beft a-
ray, bid your friends : for if you will be married to mor-
row, you shall : and to Rosalind if you will.

Enter Silvius & Phebe.

Looke, here comes a Louet of mine, and a louet of hers.

Phe. Youth, you haue done me much vngentlenesse,
To shew the letter that I writ to you.

Ref. I care not if I haue : it is my fludie

To seeme deplightfull and vngentle to you :
you are there followed by a faithful shepheard,
Looke vpon him, loue him : he worships you.

Phe. Good shepheard, tell this youth what'tis to loue

Sil. It is to be all made of sighes and teares,

And so am I for Phebe.

Phe. And I for Ganimed.

Orl. And I for Rosalind.

Ref. And I for no woman.

Sil. It is to be all made of faith and feruice,
And so am I for Phebe.

Phe. And I for Ganimed.

Orl. And I for Rosalind.

Ref. And I for no woman.

Sil. It is to be all made of fantafie,
All made of passion, and all made of wishes,

All adoration, dutie, and obseruance,

All humbleneffe, all patience, and impatience,

All puritie, all triall, all obseruance :
And so am I for Phebe.

Phe. And so am I for Ganimed.

Orl. And so am I for Rosalind.

Ref. And so am I for no woman.

Phe. If this be so, why blame you me to loue you?

Sil. If this be so, why blame you me to loue you?

Orl. If this be so, why blame you me to loue you?

Ref. Why do you speake too, Why blame you me to loue you.

Orl. To her, that is not heere, nor doth not heare.

Ref. Pray you no more of this, 'tis like the howling
of Irish Wolues againſt the Moone : I will helpe you
if I can: I would loue you if I could: To morrow meet
me altogether: I wil married you, if euer I married
Wom, and Ile be married to morrow: I will satisfie you,
if euer I satisfi'd man, and you shall be married to mor-
row. I wil content you, if what pleafes you contents
you, and you ſhal be married to morrow: As you loue
Rosalind meet, as you loue Phebe meet, and as I loue no
woman, Ile meet: So fare you wel : I haue left you com-
mands.

Sil. Ile not faile, if I lieue.

Phe. Nor I.

Orl. Nor I.

Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Clowne and Audrey.

Cl. To morrow is the loyfull day Audrey, to morrow
will we be married.

And. I do desire it with all my heart: and I hope it is
no diſhonour, to desire to be a woman of ſy world?

Heere come two of the banif'd Dukes Pages.

Enter two Pages.

1. Pa. Wel met honest Gentleman.

Clo. By my troth well met : come, fit, fit, and a ſong.

2. Pa. We are for you, fit i'th middle.

1. Pa. Shal we clap into't roundly, without hauing,
or spitting, or laying we are hoarſe, which are the onely
prologues to a bad voice.

2. Pa. I faith, y'faith, and both in a tune like two
giflies on a horſe.

Song.

It was a Louer, and his laffe,

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,

That o're the greenes come faild did paffe,

In the ſpring time, the onely pretty rang time.

When Birds do ſing, hey ding a ding, ding.

Sweet Lovers loue the Spring.

And therefore take the preſent time.

With a hey, & a ho, and a hey nonino,

For love is crowned with the prime.

In Spring time, &c.

Between us the acres of the Rie,

With a hey, and a ho, & a hey nonino :

These prettie Country folks wouldlie.

In Spring time, &c.

This Carroll they began that hour,

With a hey and a ho, & a hey nonino 2

How that a life was but a Flower,

In Spring time, &c.

Clo. Truly yong Gentlemen, though there vvas no
great matter in the dittie, yet ſ note was very vntunable

2. Pa. you are deceiu'd Sir, we kept time, we loft not
our time.

Clo. By my troth yes: I count it but time loft to heare
such a foolish ſong. God buy you, and God mend your
voices. Come Audrie.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Duke Senior, Armyens, Jaques, Orla-
do, Oliver, Cohia.

Du. Sen. Doſt thou beleeue Orlando, that the boy
Can do all this that he hath promiſed?

Orl. I sometimes do beleeue, and ſomtimes do not,
As those that feare they hope, and know they feare.

Enter Rosalinde, Silvias, & Phebe.

Ref. Patience once more, whiles our copaſt is vrg'd:
You ſay, if I bring in your Rosalinde,
You wil beſtow her on Orlando heere?

Du. Se. That would I, had I kingdoms to giue with hir.

Ref. And you ſay you wil haue her, when I bring hir?

Orl. That would I, were I of all kingdoms King.

Ref. You ſay, you'l marrie me, if I be willing.

Phe. That will I, should I die the hour after.

Ref. But if you do refuſe to marrie me,

You'l giue your ſelſe to this moſt faithfull Shepheard.

Phe. So is the bargaine.

Ref. You ſay that you'l haue Phebe if the will.

Sil. Though to haue her and death, were both one
thing.

§

Ref.

206

As you like it.

Ref. I haue promis'd to make all this matter euen:
Keepe you your word, O Duke, to give your daughter,
You yours Orlando, to receire his daughter:
Keepe you your word Phebe, that you'l marrie me,
Or else refuting me to wed this shepherd:
Keepe your word Siluus, that you'l marrie her
If the refuse me, and from hence I go
To make thefe doubts all euen.
Exit Ros. and Celia.

Du. Sem. I do remember in this shepherd boy,
Some liously touches of my daughters favour.

Orl. My Lord, the first time that I euer saw him,
Me thought he was a brother to your daughter:
But my good Lord, this Boy is Forrest borne,
And hath bin tutor'd in the rudiments
Of many desperate studies, by his vnknle,
Whom he reports to be a great Magitian.

Enter Clowne and Andrey.

Obscured in the circle of this Forreft.

Iaq. There is fure another flood toward, and thefe
couples are comming to the Atke. Here comes a payre
of verie ftrange beaſts, which in all tongues, are call'd
Fooles.

Clo. Salutation and greeting to you all.

Iaq. Good my Lord, bid him welcome : This is the
Motley-minded Gentleman, that I haue ſo often met in
the Forreft: he hath bin a Courtier his weares.

Clo. If any man doubt that, let him put mee to my
purgation, I haue trod a meaſure, I haue flattred a Lady,
I haue bin politicke with my friend, ſmooth with mine
enemie, I haue vndone three Tailors, I haue had ſoure
quarrels, and like to haue fought one.

Iaq. And how was that tane vp ?

Clo. 'Faith we met, and found the quarrel was upon
the ſeuenth cause.

Iaq. How ſeuenth cause? Good my Lord, like this
fellow.

Du. Sem. I like him very well.

Clo. God'd you fir, I defire you of the like: I preſſe
in heere ſir, amongst the rest of the Country copulatues
to ſware, and to forſware, according as marriage binds
and blood breaks: a poore virgin ſir, an il-fauor'd thing
ſir, but mine owne, a poore humour of mine ſir, to take
that that no man ſelfe will : it is that honestie dwels like a mi-
ſer ſir, in a poore house, as your Pearle in your foule oy-
fer.

Du. Se. By my faith, he is very swift, and ſententious

Clo. According to the fooles bolt ſir, and ſuch dulcet
difeſeſes.

Iaq. But for the ſeuenth cause. How did you find
the quarrell on the ſeuenth cause?

Clo. Vpon a lye, ſeuen times remoued : (beare your
bodie more ſeeming Audry) as thus ſir: I did dilſike the
cut of a cerraine Couriers beard: he ſent me word, if I
faid his beard was not cut well, hee was in the minde it
was: this is call'd the retort courteous. If I ſent him
word againe, it was not well cut, he would ſend me word
he cut it to pleafe himſelfe: this is call'd the quip modeſt.
If againe, it was not well cut, he ſiſabled my iudgment:
this is called, the reply churliſh. If againe it was not well
cut, he would anſwer I spake not true: this is call'd the
reprooſe valiant. If againe, it was not well cut, he would
ſay, Ilie: this is call'd the counter-checke quarrelſome:
and ſo to lye circumſtanciall, and the lye direct.

Iaq. And how oft did you ſay his beard was not well
cut?

Clo. I durſt go no further then the lye circumſtanciall

nor he durſt not give me the lye direct: and ſo wee mea-
fur'd ſwords, and parted.

Iaq. Can you nominate in order now, the degrees of
the lye.

Clo. O fir, we quarrel in print, by the booke: as you
have bookeſ for good manners: I will name you the de-
grees. The firſt, the Retort courteous: the ſecond, the
Quip-modeſt: the third, the reply Churliſh: the fourth,
the Reprooſe valiant: the firſt, the Counterchecke quar-
relſome: the ſixt, the Lye with circumstance: the ſea-
uenſt, the Lye direct: all the ſo you may auoyd, but the
Lye direct: and you may auoide that too, with an ſ. I
knew when ſeuen Iuſtices could not take vp a Quarrell,
but when the parties were met themſelues, one of them
thought but of an ſ. as if you ſaide ſo, then I ſaide ſo:
and they ſhooke hands, and ſwere brothers. Your ſ, is
the onely peace-maker: much vertue in it.

Iaq. Is not this a rare fellow my Lord ? He's as good
at any thing, and yet a fool.

Du. Se. He vſes his folly like a talking-horſe, and vn-
der the presentation of that he shoots his wit.

Enter Hymen, Rosalind, and Celia.

Still Mwſickc.

Hymen. Then as there mirth in heauen,
When earthly things made eauen
attone together.

Good Duke receiveth thy daughter.

Hymen from Heauen brought her,
Tea brought her heother.

That thou mightst toyne his hand with his,
Whose heart within his boſome is.

Ref. To you I giue my ſelie, for I am yours.

Du. Se. If there be truth in fight, you are my daughter,

Orl. If there be truth in fight, you are my Rosalind.

Phe. If fight & shape be true, why then my loue adieu
Ros. Ile haue no Father, if you be not he:

He haue no Husband, if you be not he:

Nor ne're wed woman, if you be not ſhee.

Hyr. Peace hoa: I barre confusion,

Tis I must make conclusion

Of these moſt ſtrange euents :

Here's eight that muſt take hands,

To Ioyne in Hymens bands,

If truth holds true concents.

You and you, no crosſe shall part ;

You and you, are hart in hart :

You, to his loue muſt accord,

Or haue a Woman to your Lord.

You and you, are ſure together,

As the Winter to fowle Weather :

Whiles a Wedlocke Hymne we ſing,

Feede your ſelues with queſtioning :

That reaſon, wonder may diminifh

How thus we met, and theſe things finiſh.

Song.

Wedding is great Iunus crowne,
O bleſsed bond of boord and bed:

'Tis Hymen peoples eucrie towne,

High wedlock then be honored :

Honor, high homer and knowne

To Hymen, God of emerie Towne.

Du. Se. O my deere Neece, welcome thou art to me,
Euen daughter welcome, in no ſelie degree.

Ph.

As you like it.

2070

Phe. I will not eat my word, now thou art mine,
Thy faith, my fancy to thee doth combine.

*Enter Second Brother.*

2. Bro. Let me have audience for a word or two:
I am the second sonne of old Sir Rowland,
That bring thesse tidings to this faire assembly.

Duke Frederick hearing how that euerie day,
Men of great worth reforted to this forreft,
Addreft a mightie power, which were on foot
In his owne conduct, purpely to take
His brother heere, and put him to the sword:

And to the skirts of this wilde Wood he came:
Where, meeting with an old Religious man,

After fome question with him, was converted
Both from his enterprize, and from the world:

His crowne bequeathing to his banifh'd Brother,
And all their Lands refford to him againe.

That were with him exil'd: This to be true,
I do engage my life.

*Du. Se.* Welcome yong man!

Thou offer it fairly to thy brothers wedding:
To one his lands with-held, and to the other

A land it selfe at large, a potent Dukedome.

First, in this Forreft, let vs do those ends

That heere vvete well begun, and wel begot:
And after, euery of this happie number

That haue endur'd fhrew'd daies, and nights with vs,
Shal share the good of our returned fortune,
According to the meafure of their flates.

Meane time, forget this new-falne dignitie,
And fall into our Ruſticke Reuelrie :

Play Muſſicke, and you Brides and Bride-groomes all,
With meafure heap'd in ioy, to th' Meaſures fall.

*Iag.* Sir, by your patience: if I heard you rightly,
The Duke hath put on a Religious life,
And throwne into neglect the pompous Court.

2. Bre. He hath.

*Iaq.* To him will I: out of these converites,
There is much matter to be heard and learn'd:
you to your former Honor, I bequeath
your patience, and your vertue, well defers it.
you to a loue, that your true faith doth merit:
you to your land, and loue, and great allies:
you to a long, and well-deferued bed:

And you to wrangling, for thy louing voyage

Is but for two moneths vi. mall'd: So to your pleafures,
I am for other, then for dancing meaſures.

*Du. Se.* Stay, Iaques, stay.

*Iaq.* To see no paſttime, I: what you would haue,
Ile play to know, at your abandon'd caue.

*Exit.*

*Du. Se.* Proceed, proceed: we'll begin these rights,
As we do truſt, they'll end in true delights.

*Exit.*

*Ref.* It is not the fashion, to fee the Ladie the Epi-
logue: but it is no more vnhandsome, then to fee the
Lord the Prologue. If it be true, that good wine needs
no buſh, 'tis true, that a good play needes no Epilogue.
Yet to good wine they do vſe good buſhes: and good
playes proue the better by the helpe of good Epilogues:
What a cafe am I in then, that am neither a good
Epilogue, nor cannot infuſuate with you in the behalfe of
a good play? I am not furniſh'd like a Begger, therefore
to begge will not become mee. My way is to coniure
you, and Ile begin with the Women. I charge you (O
women) for the loue you beare to men, to like as much
of this Play, as pleafe you: And I charge you (O men)
for the loue you beare to women (as I perceiue by your
fimpring, none of you hates them) that betweene you,
and the women, the play may please. If I were a W-
oman, I would kiffe as many of you as had beards, that
pleas'd me, complexions that lik'd me, and breaths that
I defi'd not: And I am ſure, as many as haue good
beards, or good faces, or ſweet breaths, will for my kind
offer, when I make curt'ſie, bid me farewell.

*Exei.*

FINIS.

S 2

208

THE
Taming of the Shrew.

Actus primus. Scena prima.

Enter Begger and Haffes, Christopher Sly.

Begger.

Le pheeze you infaith.

Hoff. A pair of ftockes you rogue.

Beg. Yare a baggage, the Slies are no
Rogues. Looke in the Chronicles, we came
in with Richard Conqueror; therefore Pau-
cas pallabris, let the world slide: Seffa.

Hoff. You will not pay for the glasse you haue burft?

Beg. No, not a deniere: go by S. Ieronimie, goe to thy cold bed, and warme thee.

Hoff. I know my remedie, I muſt go fetch the Head-
borough.

Beg. Third, or fourth, or fifth Borough, Ile anſwere
him by Law. Ile not budge an inch boy: Let him come,
and kindly.

Felles aſſeele.

Winde hornes. Enter a Lord from hunting, with his traine.

Lo. Huntſman I charge thee, tender wel my hounds,
Brach Meriman, the poore Curre is imboſt,
And couple Clowder with the deepe-mouth'd brach,
Saw't thou not boy how Siluer made it good
At the hedge corner, in the couldeſt fault,
I would not looke the dogge for twentie pound.

Huntſ. Why Belman is as good as he my Lord,
He cried vpon it at the meereſt loſſe,
And twice to day pick'd out the dulſed ſent,
Truſt me, I take him for the better dogge.

Lord. Thou art a Foole, if Eccho were as fleete,
I would eſteeme him worth a dozen ſuch:
But ſup them well, and looke vnto them all,
To morrow I intend to hunt againe.

Huntſ. I will my Lord.

Lord. What's heere? One dead, or drunke? See doth he breath?

2. Hun. He breath's my Lord. Were he not warm'd
with Ale, this were a bed but cold to ſleep ſo foundly.

Lord. Oh monſtrous beaſt, how like a ſwine he lyes.
Grim death, how foule and loath ſome is thine image:
Sirs, I will præſtife on this drunken man.

What thinke you, if he were conuey'd to bed,
Wrap'd in ſweet cloaſhes: Rings put vpon his ſingers:
A moſt delicious banquet by his bed,

And braue attendants neere him when he wakes,
Would not the begger then forget himſelfe?

1. Hun. Belceue me Lord, I thinke he cannot choose.

2. H. It would seeme ſtrange vnto him when he wakes.

Lord. Euen as a flatt'ring dreame, or worthles fancie.

Then take him vp, and manage well the ieſt :
Carrie him gently to my faireſt Chamber,
And hang it round with all my vvanton pictures:
Balme his foule head in warme diſtilled waters,
And burne ſweet Wood to make the Lodging ſweete:
Procure me Muſſicke readie when he vvakes,
To make a dulcet and a heauenly ſound :
And if his chance to ſpeake, be readie ſtraight
(And with a lowe ſubmiſſiue reuerence)

Say, what is it your Honor vvil command :

Let one attend him with a filuer Baſon
Full of Rove-water, and beſtrew'd with Flowers,

Another beare the Ewer: the third a Diaper,

And ſay wilt please your Lordship coole your hands.

Some one be readie with a coſtly ſuite,

And aske him what apparel he will weare :
Another tell him of his Hounds and Horſe,

And that his Ladie mournes at his diſeafe,

Perſwade him that he hath bin Lunaticke,

And when he ſayes he is, ſay that he dreames,

For he is nothing but a mightie Lord :
This do, and do it kindly, gentle ſirs,

It will be paſttime paſſing excellent,

If it be husbanded with modetie.

1. Huntſ. My Lord I warrant you we will play our part
As he shall thinke by our true diligence
He is no leſſe then what we ſay he is.

Lord. Take him vp gently, and to bed with him,
And each one to his office when he wakes.

Sound trumpets.

Sirrah, go ſee what Trumpet 'tis that ſounds,
Belike ſome Noble Gentleman that meanses
(Trauelling ſome iourey) to repoſe him heere.

Enter Servingman.

How now? who is it?

Ser. An't please your Honor, Players
That offer ſeruice to your Lordship.

Enter Players.

Lord. Bid them come neere:
Now fellowes, you are welcome.

Players. We thanke your Honor.

Lord. Do you intend to ſay with me to night?

2. Player. So please your Lordshippe to accept our
dutie.

Lord. With all my heart. This fellow I remember,
Since once he plaide a Farmers eldeſt ſonne,
Twas where you woo'd the Gentlowoman ſo well:
I haue forgot your name: but ſure that part

Wu

The Taming of the Shrew.

209

Was aptly fitted, and naturally perform'd.

*Suckle.* I think 'e was Sate that your honor means.

*Lord.* 'Tis verie true, thou didst it excellent :

Well you are come to me in happy time,

The rather for I haue some sport in hand,

Wherein thy cunning can affist me much.

There is a Lord will heart you play to night;

But I am doubtfull of your modellies,

Leaft (ouer-eying of his odde behaviour,

For yet his honor neuer heard a play).

You breake into some merrie passage,

And fo offend him : for I tell you firſ,

If you should ſmile, he growes impatient.

*Flaui.* Feare not my Lord, we can contain our ſelues,
Were he the verie antiche in the world.

*Lord.* Go firra, take them to the Butterie,

And giue them friendly welcome euerie one,

Let them want nothing that my houſe affords.

*Exit one with the Players.*

*Sarra* go you to Bartholomew my Page,

And fee him drest in all ſuites like a Ladie:

That done, conduct him to the drunkards chamber,

And call him Madam, do him obeſance:

Tell him from me (as he will win my loue)

He beare himselfe with honourable action,

Such as he hath obſeru'd in noble Ladies

Vnto their Lords, by their accomplished,

Such dutie to the drunkard let him do :

With ſoft lowe tongue, and lowly curtesie,

And lay: What is that your Honor will command,

Wherein your Ladie, and your humble wife,

May ſhew her dutie, and make knowne her loue.

And then with kindle embraements, tempting kiffes,

And with declining head into his boſome

Bid him ſhed teares, as being ouer-joyed

To fee her noble Lord ſrefor'd to health,

Who for this ſeuen yeares hath eſteemed him

No better then a poore and loathsome begger :

And if the boy haue not a womans guift

To raine a shower of commanded teares,

An Onion wil do well for such a ſhift,

Which in a Napkin (being cloſe conuei'd)

Shall in deſpight enforce a waterie eie :

See this dispatch'd with all the haſt thou canſt,

Anon Ile giue thee more inſtructions.

*Exit a ſeruingman.*

I know the boy will wel ſurpore the grace,

Voice, gate, and action of a Gentlewoman :

I long to heare him call the drunkard husband,

And how my men will ſtay them ſelues from laughter,

When they do homage to this ſimple peasant,

Ile in to counſell them: haply my preſence

May well abate the ouer-merrie ſpleene,

Which otherſive would grow into extreames.

*Enter aloft the drunkard with attendants, ſome with apparel,*

*Bason and Ewer, & other appurtenances, & Lord.*

*Beg.* For God's take a pot of ſmall Ale.

1. *Ser.* Wilt please your Lord drink a cup of ſacke ?

2. *Srr.* Wilt please your Honor taſte of these Conſerues ?

3. *Srr.* What raiment will your honor weare to day.

*Beg.* I am Chriſtopher Sly, call not mee Honour nor
Lordship: I ne're drank ſacke in my life: and if you giue
me any Conſerues, giue me conſerues of Beeſe: nere ask
me what raiment Ile weare, for I haue no more doub-

lets then backes : no more ſtockings then legges : nor
no more ſhooes then feets, nay sometime more feetes then
ſhooes, or ſuch ſhooes as my toes looke through the oſ-
uer-leather.

*Lord.* Heauen ceaſe this idle humor in your Honor.
Oh that a mightie man of ſuch diſeſt,
Of ſuch poſſeffions, and of high eſteeme
Should be infused with ſo foule a ſpirit.

*Beg.* What would you make me mad? Am not I Chriſtopher Slié, old Sies ſonne of Burton-heath, by byrth a Pedler, by education a Cardmaker, by tranſmutation a Beare-heard, and now by preſent profession a Tinker. Aske Marrián Hacket: the fat Alewife of Wincot; if ſhe know me not: if ſhe ſay: I am not xiii.d. on the ſcore for ſheere Ale, ſcore me vp for the lyingſt knaue in Chriften dome. What I am not beſtraught: here's—

3. *Man.* Oh this it is that makes your Ladie mourne.

2. *Mar.* Oh this is it that makes your ſeruants droop.

*Lord.* Hence comes it, that your kindred ſhuns your
As beaten hence by your ſtrange Lunarie, (houſe
Oh Noble Lord, bethinke thee of thy birth,
Call home thy ancient thoughts from baniſhments,

And baniſh hence theſe abieſt lowlie dreames :

Looke how thy ſeruants do attend on thee,

Each in his office readie at thy becke.

Wilt thou haue Muſſicke? Harke Apollo plaies,

And twentie caged Nightingales do ſing.

Or wilt thou ſleep? Wee'l haue thee to a Couch,

Softer and sweeter then the luſtfull bed

On purpose trim'd vp for Semiramis.

Say thou wilt walke: we wil beſtrow the ground.

Or wilt thou ride? Thy horſes ſhal be trap'd,

Their harnefſe ſtudded all with Gold and Peartle.

Dost thou loue hawking? Thou haſt hawkes will ſoare

Aboue the morning Larke. Or wilt thou hunt,

Thy hounds ſhall make the Welkin anſwer them.

And fetch ſhrill ecchoes from the hollow earth.

1. *Man.* Say thou wilt courſe, thy gray-hounds are as

As breathed Stags: I fleeter then the Roe. (ſwift

2. *M.* Dost thou loue pictures? we wil fetch thee strait

Adonis painted by a running brooke,

And Citherea all in ſedges hid,

Which ſeeue to moue and wanton with her breath,

Even as the wauing ſedges play with winde.

*Lord.* Wee'l ſhew thee so, as she was a Maid,

And how she was beguiled and ſurpriz'd,

As liuelpie painted, as the deede was done.

3. *Man.* Or Daphne roming through a thornie wood,

Scratching her legs, that one ſhal ſwear the bleeds,

And at that fight (hal ſad Apollo weepe,

So workmanlike the blood and teares are drawne.

*Lord.* Thou art a Lord, and nothing but a Lord.

Thou haſt a Ladie farre more beaſutifull,

Then any woman in this wauing age.

1. *Man.* And til the teares that ſhe hath ſhed for thee,

Like enuious flouds ore-run her louely ſace,

She was the faireſt creature in the world,

And yet ſhee is inſeriuour to none.

*Beg.* Am I a Lord, and haue I ſuch a Ladie?

Or do I dreame? Or haue I dream'd till now?

I do not ſleep: I fee, I heare, I ſpeake:

I ſmell ſweet ſauours, and I ſeele ſoft things :

Upon my life I am a Lord indeede,

And not a Tinker, nor Chriſtopher Slié.

Well, bring our Ladie hither to our ſight,

And once againe a pot o'th ſmallest Ale.

S 3

2. *Man*

The Taming of the Shrew.

210

2. Man. Wilt pleafe your mightineſſe to waſh your hands:

Oh how we ioy to fee your wit reſtor'd,

Oh that once more you knew but what you are:
These ſiſteene yeeres you haue bin in a dreame:
Or when you wak'd, ſo wak'd as if you leſt:

Beg. These ſiſteene yeeres, by my ſay, a goodly nap,
But did I neuer ſpeake of all that time.

1. Man. Oh yes my Lord, but verie idle words,
For though you lay here in this goodlie chamber,
Yet would you ſay, ye were beaten out of doors,
And raile vpon the Hoſſeſſe of the houſe,

And ſay you would preſent her at the Leete,

Because ſhe brought ſhone-Iugs, and no ſeel'd quarts:
Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.

Beg. I, the womans maide of the houſe.

3. man. Why fir you know no houſe, nor no ſuch maid
Nor no ſuch men as you haue reckon'd vp,

As Stephen ſlie, and old John Naps of Greece,
And Peter Tuxph, and Henry Timpernell,

And twentie more ſuch names and men as theſe,

Which neuer were, nor no man euer ſaw.

Beg. Now Lord be thanked for my good amends.

All. Amen.

Enter Lady with Attendants.

Beg. I thanke thee, thou ſhalt not loose by it.

Lady. How farès my noble Lord?

Beg. Marrie I fare well, for heere is cheerè enough.

Where is my wife?

La. Heere noble Lord, what is thy will with her?

Beg. Are you my wife, and will not call me husband?

My men should call me Lord, I am your good-man,

La. My husband and my Lord, my Lord and husband
I am your wife in all obedience.

Beg. I know it well, what muſt I call her?

Lord. Madam.

Beg. Alce Madam, or Ione Madam?

Lord. Madam, and nothing else, ſo Lords cal Ladies.

Beg. Madame wife, they ſay that I haue dream'd,
And flept aboue ſome ſiſteene yeare or more.

Lady. I, and the time ſeeme's thirty vnto me,

Being all this time abandon'd from your bed.

Beg. 'Tis much, ſeruants leaue me and her alone:
Madam vndreſſe you, and come now to bed.

La. Thrice noble Lord, let me intcat of you
To pardon me yet for a night or two:

Or if not so, vntill the Sun be set.

For your Phyſitians haue expreſſely charg'd,

In perill to incurre your former malady,

That I should yet abſent me from your bed :

I hope this reaſon ſtands for my excufe.

Beg. I, it ſands ſo that I may hardly tarry so long:
But I would be loth to fall into my dreaemes againe : I
wil therefore tarrie in despight of the ſleth & the blood

Enter a Meſſinger.

Mef. Your Honors Players hearing your amendment,
Are come to play a pleafant Comedie,

For ſo your doctors hold it very mcete,

Seeing too much ſadneſſe hath congea'd your blood,
And melancholly is the Nurſe of frenzie,

Therefore they thought it good you heare a play,

And frame your minde to mirth and merriment,

Which barres a thouſand harmes, and lengthens life.

Beg. Marrie I will let them play, it is not a Comon-

tie, a Christmas gambold, or a tumbling tricke.

Lady. No my good Lord, it is more pleafing fluffe.

Beg. What, household fluffe.

Lady. It is a kinde of hiftory.

Beg. Well, we'll fee't:

Come Madam wife fit by my ſide,

And let the world ſlip, we ſhall neere be yonger.

Florish. Enter Lucentio, and his man Tranio.

Luc. Tranio, since for the great deſire I had
To fee faire Padua, nurſerie of Arts,
I am arrin'd for fruitfull Lumbardre,

The pleafant garden of great Italy,

And by my fathers loue and leaue am arm'd

With his good will, and thy good company.

My truſtie ſeruant well approu'd in all,

Heere let vs breath, and haply inſtitute

A course of Learning, and ingenious ſtudies.

Pisa renowned for graue Citizens

Gave me my being, and my father firſt

A Merchant of great Trafficke through the world :

Vincentio's come of the Bentivoli,

Vincentio's ſonne, brough vp in Florence,

It ſhall become to ſerue all hopes conceiued

To decke his fortune with his vertuous deedes:

And therefore Tranio, for the time I ſtudie,

Vertue and that part of Philofophie

Will I applye, that treats of happineſſe,

By vertue specially to be atchieu'd.

Tell me thy minde, for I haue Pisa left,

And am to Padua come, as he that leaues

A ſhallow plaſh, to plunge him in the deepe,

And with facieſtie ſeekeſ to quench his thirſt.

Tra. Me Pardonato, gentle maſter mine:

I am in all affected as your ſelfe,

Glad that you thus continue your refolue,

To ſucke the ſweets of ſweere Philofophie,

Oaely (good maſter) while we do admire

This vertue, and this morall diſcipline,

Let's be no Stoickes, nor no ſtockes I pray,

Or to deuote to Ariftotles checkes

As Ouid, be an out-craft quite abiu'd:

Balke Lodigke with acquaintance that you haue,

And pradife Rhetoricke in your common talke,

Muſicke and Poefie vſe, to quicken you,

The Mathematickes, and the Metaphyſickes

Fall to them as you finde your ſtacke fetues you:

No profit growes, where is no pleasure tane :

In briefe ſir, ſtudie what you moſt affect.

Luc. Gramerics Tranio, well doſt thou aduife,
If Biondello thou wert come aſhore,

We could at once put vs in readineſſe,

And take a Lodging fit to entertaine

Such friends (as time) in Padua shall beget.

But ſtay a while, what companye is this?

Tra. Maſter ſome ſhew to welcome vs to Towne.

Enter Baptiſa with his two daughters, Katerina & Bianca,
Gremio a Pantelowne, Hortentio firſer to Bianca.

Lucento. Tranio, stand by.

Bap. Gentlemen, importuneme no farther,
For how I firmly am refolu d you know :

That is, not to beſow my yonge daughter,

Before I haue a husband for the elder :

If either of you both loue Katherina,

Because

The Taming of the Shrew.

211

Because I know you well, and loue you well,
Leaue shall you haue to court her at your pleasure.

Gre. To carther rather. She's to rough for me,
There, there Hortensio, will you any Wives?

Kate. I pray you fir, is it your will

To make a tale of me amongst these mates?

Hor. Mates maid, how meane you that?

No mates for you,

Vnleffe you were of gentler milder mould.

Kate. I faith fir, you shall neuer neede to feare,
I-wis it not half way to her heart:

But if it were, doubt not, her care should be,
To combe your noddle with a three-legg'd toole,
And paint your face, and vfe you like a toole.

Hor. From all such duels, good Lord deliuer vs.

Gre. And me too, good Lord.

Tra. Hufit after, here's some good pastime toward;
That wench is starke mad, or wonderfull froward.

Lencen. But in the others silence do I see,

Maids milde behauïour and sobrietie,

Peace Tranio.

Tra. Well said Mr, mum, and gaze your fill.

Bap. Gentlemen, that I may foone make good

What I haue said, Bianca get you in,
And let it not dissplease thee good Bianca,

For I will loue thee nere the leffe my girle.

Kate. A pretty peate, it is beſt put finger in the eye,
and ſhe knew why.

Bian. Sifter content you, in my discontent.

Sir, to your pleasure humbly I ſubscribe:
My bookes and instruments ſhall be my companie,
On them to looke, and præſeife by my ſelſe.

Luc. Harke Tranio, thou maift heare Minerva ſpeak.

Hor. Signior Baptifa, will you be ſo ſtrange,

Sorrie am I that our good will effects

Bianca's greeſe.

Gre. Why will you mew her vp

(Signior Baptifa) for this ſiend of hell,

And make her beare the pennance of her tongue,

Bap. Gentlemen content ye: I am refould:

Goin Bianca.

And for I know ſhe taketh moſt delight
In Muſſicke, Inſtruments, and Poetry,
Schoolemaſters will I keepe within my house,
Fit to influſtr her youth. If you Hortenſio,

Or ſignior Gremio you know any ſuch,
Preſerre them hither: for to cunning men,
I will be very kinde and liberall,

To mine owne children, in good bringing vp,

And so farewell: Katherina you may ſay,

For I haue more to commune with Bianca.

Exit.

Kate. Why, and I truſt I may go too, may I not?
What shall I be appointed houres, as though
(Belike) I knew not what to take,

And what to leaue? Ha.

Exit.

Gre. You may go to the diuels dam: your guifts are
ſo good heere's none will holde you: Their loue is not
ſo great Hortenſio, but we may blow our nails together,
and ſaſt it fairely out. Our cakes dough on both ſides.
Farewell: yet for the loue I beare my ſweet Bianca, if
I can by any meanes light on a fit man to teach her that
wherein ſhe delights, I will wifh him to her father.

Hor. So will I ſigniour Gremio: but a word I pray:
Though the nature of our quarrell yet neuer brook'd
parle, know now vpon aduice, it toucheth vs both: that
we may yet againe haue acceſſe to our faire Miftris, and

be happie riuuals in Bianca's loue, to labour and effect
one thing ſpecially.

Gre. What's that I pray?

Hor. Marrie fir to get a husband for her Sifter,

Gre. A husband: a diuell.

Hor. I ſay a husband.

Gre. I ſay, a diuell: Think it thou Hortenſio, though
her father be verie rich, any man is ſo verie a toole to be
married to hell?

Hor. Tuſh Gremio: though it paffe your patience &
mine to endure her lowd alarums, why man there bee
good fellowes in the world, and a man could light on
them, would take her with all faults, and mony enough.

Gre. I cannot tell: but I had as lief take her dowrie
with this condition: To be whipt at the hie croſſe euerie
morning.

Hor. Faith (as you ſay) there's small choſe in rotten
apples: but come, ſince this bar in law makes vs friends,
it ſhall be ſo farre forth friendly maintain'd, till by hel-
ping Baptiſas eldeſt daughter to a husband, wee ſet his
yongest free for a husband, and then haue too t afresh:
Sweet Bianca, happy man be his dole: hee that runnés
fatieſt, gets the Ring: How ſay you ſignior Gremio?

Grem. I am agreed, and would I had giuen him the
best horſe in Padua to begin his woing that would tho-
roughly woe her, wed her, and bed her, and ridde the
house of her. Come on.

Exeunt ambo. Manet Tranio and Lucentio

Tra. I pray fir tell me, is it poffible

That loue ſhould of a ſodaine take ſuch hold:

Luc. Oh Tranio, till I found it to be true,
I neuer thought it poffible or likely.

But ſee, while idely I ſtood looking on,

I found the effect of Loue in idlenſe,

And now in plainneſſe do conſeſſe to thee

That art to me as ſecret and as deere

As Anna to the Queene of Carthage was:

Tranio I burne, I pine, I perſh Tranio,

If I atchieue not this yong modſe gyre:

Couinaſe me Tranio, for I know thou cantſ:

Aſſift me Tranio, for I know thou wilt.

Tra. Maſter, it is no time to chide you now,
Aſſection is not rated from the heart:

If loue haue touch'd you, naught remains but ſo,

Redime te captam quam queas minimo.

Luc. Gramercies Lad: Go forward, this contents,
The reſt will comfort, for thy counſels found.

Tra. Maſter, you look'd ſo longingly on the maide,
Perhaps you mark'd not what's the pith of all.

Luc. Oh yes, I ſaw ſweet beautie in her ſace,
Such as the daughter of Agenor had,
That made great Loue to humble him to her hand,
When with his knees he kiff the Cretan ſtrond.

Tra. Saw you no more? Mark'd you not how he ſifter
Began to ſcold, and raiſe vp ſuch a ſtorme,
That morral eares might hardly indure the din.

Luc. Tranio, I ſaw her corrall lips to moue,
And with her breath ſhe did perfume the ayre,
Sacred and ſweet was all I ſaw in her.

Tra. Nay, then 'tis time to stirre him from his trance:
I pray awake fir: if you loue the Maide,
Bend thoughts and wits to atchieue her. Thus it stands:
Her elder firſer is ſo curſt and ſhrew'd,
That til the Father rid his hands of her,
Maſter, your Loue muſt lie a maide at home,
And therefore has he closely men'd her ſp,

Because

The Taming of the Shrew.

212

Because she will not be annoy'd with futers.

Luc. Ah Tranio, what a cruell Fathers he:

But art thou not aduis'd, he tooke some care.

To get her cunning Schoolemasters to instruct her.

Tra. I marry am I fir, and now 'tis plotted.

Luc. I haue it Tranio.

Tra. Mafter, for my hand,

Both our inuentions meet and iumpe in one.

Luc. Tell me thine firft.

Tra. You will be schoole-mafter,

And vndertake the teaching of the maid :

That's your deuice.

Luc. It is : May it be done ?

Tra. Not possible : for who shall beare your part,
And be in Padua heere Vincentio's fonne,

Keepe houfe, and ply his booke, welcome his friends,
Visit his Countrimen, and banquet them?

Luc. Bafla, content thee : for I haue it full.

We haue not yet bin ſene in any houſe,

Nor can we be diſtinguſh'd by our ſaces,

For man or maſter: then it followes thus:

Thou ſhalt be maſter, Tranio in my ſted :

Keepe houſe, and port, and ſeruants, as I should,

I will ſome other be, ſome Florentine,

Some Neapolitan, or meaner man of Fisa.

'Tis hatch'd, and ſhall be ſo : Tranio at once

Vncaſſe thee: take my Conlord hat and cloake,

When Biondello comes, he waites on thce,

But I will charme him firſt to keepe his tongue.

Tra. So had you neede :

In breeſe Sir, ſith it your pleasure is,

And I am tyed to be obedient,

For so your father charg'd me at our parting :

Be ſeruiceable to my ſonne (quoth he).

Although I thinke 'twas in another ſence,

I am content to bee Lucentio,

Because ſo well I loue Lucentio.

Luc. Tranio be ſo, becauſe Lucentio lones,

And let me be a ſlaue, t'atchieue that maid,

Whose ſodaine fight hath thral'd my wounded eye.

Enter Biondello.

Heere comes the rogue. Sirra, where haue you bin ?

Bion. Where haue I beene ? Nay how now, where
are you? Maſter, ha's my fellow Tranio ſtolne your
cloathes, or you ſtolne his, or both ? Pray what's the
newes?

Luc. Sirra come hither, 'tis no time to ieſt,
And therefore frame your manners to the time
Your fellow Tranio heere to ſaue my life,

Puts my apparrell, and my count'nance on,

And I for my eſcape haue put on his :

For in a quarrell ſince I came a-shore,

I kild a man, and ſeaue I was deſcried :

Waite you on him, I charge you, as becomes :

While I make way from hence to ſaue my life :

You vnderstand me?

Bion. I fir, ne're a whit.

Luc. And not a lot of Tranio in your mouth,

Tranio is chang'd into Lucentio.

Bion. The betrer for him, would I were ſo too.

Tra. So could I 'faith boy, to haue the next wifh after,
that Lucentio indeede had Baptifſ as yongeſt daugh-
ter. But firra, not for my ſake, but your maſters, I ad-
uife you vſe your manners diſcreetly in all kind of com-
panies : When I am alone, why then I am Tranio: but in

all places else, you maſter Lucentio.

Luc. Tranio let's go :

One thing more firſt, that thy ſelfe execute,

To make one among theſe wooers : if thou ask me why,
Sufficeth my reaſons are both good and waighty.

Exeunt.

The Preſenters about ſpenſes.

I. Man. My Lord you nod, you do not minde the
play.

Beg. Yes by Saint Anne do I, a good matter ſure:
Comes there any more of it ?

Lady. My Lord, 'tis but begun.

Beg. 'Tis a verie excellent peecce of worke, Madame
Ladie: would 'twere done.

They fit and marky.

Enter Petruchio, and his man Grumio.

Petr. Vevera, for a while I take my leaue,

To see my friends in Padua; but of all

My best beloved and approued friend

Hortenſio: & I trow this is his houſe:

Heere firra Grumio, knocke I ſay.

Gru. Knocke fir? whom should I knocke? Is there
any man ha's rebus'd your worſhip?

Petr. Villaine I ſay, knocke me heere foundly.

Gru. Knocke you heere fir ? Why fir, what am I fir,
that I should knocke you heere fir.

Petr. Villaine I ſay, knocke me at this gate,

And rap me well, or Ile knocke your knaues pate.

Gru. My Mr is growne quarrell ſome :

I should knocke you firſt,

And then I know after who comes by the worſt.

Petr. Will it not be?

'Faith firra, and you'l not knocke, Ile ring it,

Ile trie how you can Sol, Fa, and fing it.

He rings him by the ears.

Gru. Helpe miſtir helpe, my maſter is mad.

Petr. Now knocke when I bid you : firra villaine.

Enter Hortenſio.

Hor. How now, what's the matter ? My olde friend Grumio, and my good friend Petruchio ? How do you all at Verona?

Petr. Signior Hortenſio, come you to part the fray?
Contutti le ore bene trobatto, may I ſay.

Hor. Alla noſtra caſa bene venuto multo honorata ſignor miu Petruchio.

Rife Grumio rife, we will compound this quarrell.

Gru. Nay'tis no matter fir, what he leges in Latine.
If this be not a lawfull cauſe for me to leaue his ſeruice,
looke you fir: He bid me knocke him, & rap him found-
ly fir. Well, was it fit for a ſeruant to vſe his maſter ſo,
being perhaps (for ought I ſee) two and thirty, a peepe
out? Whom would to God I had well knockt at firſt,
then had not Grumio come by the worſt.

Petr. A ſenceſſe villaine: good Hortenſio,
I bad the rafcall knocke vpon your gate,
And could not get him for my heart to do it.

Gru. Knocke at the gate? O heauens: ſpake you not
theſe words plaine? Sirra, Knocke me heere: rappeme
heere: knocke me well, and knocke me foundly? And
come you now with knocking at the gate?

Petr. Sirra be gone, or talke not I aduife you.

Hor. Petruchio patience, I am Grumio's pledge:
Why this a heauie chance twixt him and you,
Your ancient truſtie pleasant ſeruant Grumio:
And tell me now (weet friend) what happie gale
Blowes you to Padua heere, from old Verona?

Petr. Such wind as ſcatters yongmen through ſworld,

To

The Taming of the Shrew.

213

To feek their fortunes farther then at home,
Where small experience growes but in a few,
Signior *Hortenfio*, thus it stands with me,
Antonio my father is deceaſt,
And I haue thrust my ſelfe into this maze,
Happily to wiue and thruiſe, as beſt I may:
Crownes in my purſe I haue, and goods at home,
And so am come abroad to ſee the world.

Hor. Petruchio, shall I then come roundly to thee,
And with thee to a ſhrewd ill-fauour'd wife?
Thou'lt thank me but a little for my counſell:
And yet I lle promiſe thee ſhe shall be rich,
And verie rich; but that are too much my friend,
And Ile not with thee to her.

Petr. Signior *Hortenſio*, twixt ſuch friends as wee,
Few words ſuffice: and therefore, if thou know
One rich enough to be *Petruchio's* wife:
(As wealth is burthen of my woing dance)
Be ſhe as foule as was *Florentius* Loue,
As old as *Sibell*, and as curſt and ſhrewd
As *Socrates* *Zentippe*, or a worſe:
She moues me not, or not remoues at leaſt
Affections edge in me. Were ſhe as rough
As are the ſtelling *Adriaticke* seas.
I come to wiue it wealthily in *Padua*.
If wealthily, then happy in *Padua*.

Gru. Nay, looke you fir, hee tells you flatly what his
minde is: why giue him Gold enough, and marrie him
to a Puppet or an Aglet babie, or an old trot with ne're
a tooth in her head, though ſhe haue as manie diſeafes as
two and ſſſie horſes: Why nothing comes amiffie, ſo
monie comes withall.

Hor. Petruchio, ſince we are ſtept thus farre in,
I will continue that I broach'd in ieſt,
I can Petruchio helpe thee to a wife
With wealth enough, and yong and beauteous,
Brought vp as beſt becomes a Gentlewoman.
Her onely fault, and that is ſaults enough,
Is, that ſhe is intollerable curſt,
And ſhrewd, and ſtroward, ſo beyond all meaſure,
That were my ſlate farre worſer then it is,
I would not wed her for a mine of Gold.

Petr. *Hortenſio* peace: thou know'st not golds effect,
Tell me her father name, and 'tis enough:
For I will boord her, though ſhe chide as loud
As thunder, when the clouds in Autumnne cracke.

Hor. Her father is *Baptista* Minola,
An affable and courteous Gentleman,
Her name is *Katherina* Minola,
Renown'd in *Padua* for her ſcolding tongue.

Petr. I know her father, though I know not her,
And he knew my deceaſed father well:
I will not ſleep *Hortenſio* til I fee her,
And therefore let me be thus bold with you,
To giue you ouer at this firſt encounter,
Vnleſſe you will accompanie me thither.

Gru. I pray you Sir let him go while the humor laſts.
A my word, and ſhe knew him as well as I do, ſhe would
thinke ſcolding would doe little good upon him. ſhee
may perhaps call him haſe a ſcore Knaues, or ſo: Why
that's nothing; and he begin once, hee'l raile in his rope
tricks. Ile tell you what ſir, and ſhe ſtand him but a liſt,
he wil throw a figure in her ſace, and ſo disfigure him
with it, that ſhe ſhal have no more cies to ſee, withall
then a Cat: you know him not ſir.

Hor. Tarrie *Petruchio*, I muſt go with ſhee,

For in *Baptista* keepe my treaſure is:
He hath the Iewel of my life in hold,
His yonge ſ daughter, beautiful *Bianca*,
And her with-holds from me. Other more
Suters to her, and riuals in my Loue:
Suppofing it a thing impossible,
For thofe defects I haue before rehearſt,
That euer *Katherina* wil be woo'd:
Therefore this order hath *Baptista* tane,
That none ſhal haue acceſſe vnto *Bianca*,
Til Katherine the Curiſt, haue got a husband.

Gru. Katherine the curſt,
A title for a maide, of all titles the worſt.

Hor. Now ſhal my friend *Petruchio* do me grace,
And offer me diſguis'd in sober robes,
To old *Baptista* as a schoole-maſter
Well ſeene in Muſicke, to inſtruct *Bianca*,
That ſo I may by this deuice at leaſt
Haue leaue and leiſure to make loue to her,
And vnſuſpected court her by her ſelfe.

Enter Gremio and Lucentio diſguſed.

Gru. Heere's no knauerie. See, to beguile the olde-
folkes, how the young folkes lay their heads together.
Maſter, maſter, looke about you: Who goes there? ha.

Hor. Peace *Gremio*, it is the riuall of my Loue.
*Petruchio* stand by a while.

*Gremio*. A proper ſtriſing, and an amorous.

*Gremio*. O very well, I haue perus'd the note:
Hearke you fir, Ile haue them verie fairly bound,
All bookeſ of Loue, fee that at any hand,
And ſee you reade no other Lecſures to her:
You vnderſand me. Ouer and beſide
Signior *Baptista* liberalitie,
Ile mend it with a Largeſſe. Take your paper too,
And let me haue them verie wel perſum'd;
For ſhe is sweeter then perſume it ſelfe
To whom they go to: what wil you reade to her.

Luc. What ere I reade to her, Ile pleade for you,
As for my patron, ſtand you ſo affur'd,
As firmly as your ſelfe were ſill in place,
Yea and perhaps with more ſucceſſefull words
Then you; vnleſſe you were a ſcholler fir.

Gru. Oh this learning, what a thing it is.

Gru. Oh this Woodcocke, what an Aſſe it is.

Petru. Peace firra.

Hor. *Gremio* mum: God faue you ſignior *Gremio*,
Gru. And you are wel met, Signior *Hortenſio*.
Trow you whither I am going? To *Baptista* Minola,
I promiſt to enquire carefully

About a schoolemaſter for the faire *Bianca*,
And by good ſor:une I haue lighted well
On this yong man: For learning and behauiour
Fit for her turne, well read in Poetrie
And other bookeſ, good ones, I warrant ye.

Her. 'Tis well: and I haue met a Gentleman
Hath promiſt me to helpe one to another,
A fine Muſtian to inſtruct our Miftris,
So ſhal I no whit be behinde in dutie
To faire *Bianca*, so beloved of me.

Gru. Beloued of me, and that my deeds ſhal proue.

Gru. And that his bags ſhal proue.

Hor. *Gremio*, 'tis now no time to vent our loue,
Liſten to me, and if you ſpeake me faire,
Ile tel you newes indifferent good for either.

Heere is a Gentleman whom by chance I met

Ypon

["The Taming of the Shrew.", "212", "Upon agreement from vs to his liking,", "Will vndertake to wooe him Katherine,", "Yea, and to marrie her, if her downe please,", "Gre. So said, so done, is well.", "Hortenſo, haue you told him all her faults?", "Petr. I know she is an irkſome brawling ſcold:", "If that be all Maſters, I heare no harme.", "Gre. No, ſay, me ſo, friend? What Countryman?", "Petr. Borne in Vergna, old Butonins ſonne:", "My father dead, my fortune ſives for me,", "And I do hope, good dayes and long, to fee:", "Gre. Oh ſir, ſuch a life with ſuch a wife, were ſtrang:\nBut if you haue a ſtomacke, too't a God's name,\nYou that have me aſſking you in all.", "But will you woo this Wilde Cat?", "Petr. Will I like?", "Gru. Wil he woo her? I' or Ile hang her.", "Petr. Why came I hither, but to that intent?", "Thinke you, a little dinne can daunt mineares?", "Haue I not in my time heard Lions ſore?", "Haue I not heard the ſea, puſt vp with windes,", "Rage like an angry Boare, chaſed with ſweat?", "Haue I not heard great Ordnance in the ſeld?", "And heauens Artillerie thunder in the skies?", "Haue I not in a pitched battell heard", "Loud larums, neighing ſteeds, & trumpets clangue?", "And do you tell me of a womans tongue?", "That gives not halfe so great a blow to heare,", "As wil a Cheſe-nut in a Farmers ſire.", "Tuſh, tuſh, ſeare boyes with bugs,", "Gru. For he ſeares none.", "Grem. Hortenſo hearek:", "This Gentleman is happily arriu'd,", "My minde prefumes for his owne good, and yours,", "Hor. I prou'd it we would be Contributors,", "And beare his charge of wooing whatſoever.", "Gremio. And to we wil, provided that he win her.", "Gru. I would I were as ſure of a good dinner.", "Enter Tranio bratne, and Biondello.", "Tra. Gentlemen God faue you. If I may be bold", "Tell me I beſeech you, which is the readreſt way", "To the house of Signior Baptista Minola?", "Bion. He that has the two faire daughters: if he you meane?", "Tra. Euen he Biondello.", "Gre. Hearke you ſir, you meane not her to—", "Tra. Perhaps him and her ſir, what haue you to do?", "Petr. Not her that chides ſir, at any hand I pray.", "Tranio. I loue no chiders ſir: Biondello, let's away.", "Luc. Well begun Tranio.", "Hor. Sir, a word ere you go:", "Are you a ſutor to the Maid you talke of, yea or no?", "Tra. And if I be ſir, is it any offence?", "Gremio. No: if without more words you will get your hence.", "Tra. Why ſir, I pray are not the ſcreers as free", "For me, as for you?", "Gre. But so is not ſlie.", "Tra. For what reſon I beſeech you.", "Gre. For this reſon if you'll kno,", "That she's the choſe loue of Signior Gremio.", "Hor. That ſhe's the choſen of Signior Hortenſo?", "Tra. Softly my Maſters: If you be Gentlemen\nDome this right: heare me with patience.", "Baptista is a noble Gentleman,", "To whom my Father is not all unknowne,", "And were his daughter fairer then she is,", "She may more ſutors haue, and me for one.", "Faire Ladas daughter had a thousand wooers,", "Then well one more may faire Bianca haue:", "And so ſhe shall: Enutoio that make one,", "Though Park's came, in hope to speed alone.", "Gre. What, this Gentleman will out-talke vs all.", "Luc. Sir, give him head; I know he'll proue a Jade.", "Petr. Hortenſo, to what end are all these words?", "Hor. Sit, let me be so bold as aske you,", "Did you yet euer see Baptista's daughter?", "Tra. No ſir, but heare I do that he hath two:", "The one, as famous for a ſcolding tongue,", "As is the other, for beauteous mod ſeine.", "Petr. Sir, ſir, the firſt ſor for me, let her go by.", "Gre. Yea, leaue that labour to great Hercules,", "And let it be more then e'Aleides twelue.", "Petr. Sir, vnderstand you this of me (infooth)", "The yongeſt daughter whom you hearken for,", "Her father keepeſ from all acceſſe of ſutors,", "And will not promife her to any man,", "Vntill the elder ſifter firſt be wed.", "The yonger then is free, and not before.", "Tranio. If it be so ſir, that you are the man", "Muſt ſleed vs all, and me among the reſt:", "And if you breake the ice, and do this ſeeke,", "Atchieue the elder: for the yonger free,", "For our acceſſe, whose hap shall be to haue her,", "Wil not so graceleſſe be, to be injure.", "Hor. Sir, you ſay wel, and wel you do conceiue,", "And ſince you do proſeſſe to be a ſutor,", "You muſt as we do, gratiſe this Gentleman,", "To whom we all reſt generally beholding.", "Tranio. Sir, I ſhal not be ſlacke, in ſigne whereof,", "Pleafe ye, we may contrive this afternoone,", "And quaffe carowſes to our Miftreſſe health,", "And do as aduerfaries do in law,", "Striue mightily, but eate and drinke as friends.", "Gru. Bion, Oh excellent motion: fellowes let's be gon.", "Hor. The motions good indeed, and be it so,", "Petruchio, I ſhal be your 'Been venuto.'", "Exeunt.", "Enter Katherina and Bianca.", "Bian. Good ſifter wrong me not, nor wrong your ſelf,\nTo make a bondmaide and a ſlue of mee,\nThat I difdaine: but for these other goods,\nVnbinde my hands, Ile pull them off my ſelfe,\nYea all my raiment, to my petticoate,\nOr what you will command me, will I do,\nSo well I know my dutie to my elders.", "Kate. Of all thy ſutors heere I charge tel\nWhom thou louſt beſt: fee thou disſemble not.", "Bianca. Believe me ſifter, of all the men aliue,\nI neuer yet beheld that ſpeciall face,\nWhich I could fancie, more then any other.", "Kate. Minion thou lyeſt: Is't not Hortenſo?", "Bian. If you affect him ſifter, heere I ſware\nIle pleade for you my ſelfe, but you ſhal haue him.", "Kate. Oh then belike you fancie riches more,\nYou wil haue Gremio to keepe you faire.", "Bian. Is it for him you do enuie me ſo?", "Nay then you left, and now I wel perceiue", "You have but iſefted with me all this while,", "I prethee ſifter Kate, vntie my hands.", "Ka. If that be left, then all the reſt was ſo. 'Strikes her\n

The Taming of the Shrew.

215

Enter Baptista.

Bap. Why how now Dame, whence growes this in-
folence?

Bianca stand aside, poore gyre she weepes:

Go ply thy Needle, meddle not with her:

For thame thou Hilding of a diuellish spirit,

Why doth thou wrong her, that did nere wrong thee?

When did she crost thee with a bitter word?

Kate. Her silence flouts me, and Ile reueng'd.

Flies after Bianca.

Bap. What in my light? Bianca get thee in.

Exit.

Kate. What will you not suffer me: Nay now I see
She is your treasure, she must haue a husband,
I must dance bare-foot on her wedding day,
And for your loue to her, leade Apes in hell,
Talke not to me, I will go fit and weepe,
Till I can finde occasion of revenge.

Bap. Was euer Gentleman thus greeu'd as I?

But who comes here?

Enter Gremio, Lucentio, in the habit of a meane man,
Petruchio with Tranio, with his boy
bearing a Lute and Bookes.

Gre. Good morrow neighbour Baptista.

Gre. Good morrow neighbour Gremio: God saue
you Gentlemen.

Pet. And you good fir: pray haue you not a daugh-
ter, cal'd Katerina, faire and vertuous.

Bap. I haue a daughter fir, cal'd Katerina.

Gre. You are too blunt, go to it orderly.

Pet. You wrong me, Signior Gremio, giue me leaue.

I am a Gentleman of Verona fir,

That habitation of her beautitie, and her wit,

Her habibility and bafhfull modestie:

Her wondrous qualities, and milde behauiour,

Am bold to shew my selfe a forward guelt

Within your house, to make mine eye the witnesse:

Of that report, which I so oft haue heard, or so

And for an entrance to my entertainment,

I do prefont you with a man of mine

Cunning in Muficke, and the Mathematicke,

To instruct her fully in those Sciences,

Whereof I know she is not ignorant,

Accept of him, or else you do me wrong,

His name is Lisio, borne in Mantua.

Bap. Yare welcome fir, and he for your good fake.

But for my daughter Katerine, this I know,

She is not for your turne, the more my greefe.

Pet. I fee you do not meane to part with her, or
Or else you like not of my company.

Bap. Mistake me not, I speake but as I finde,

Whence are you fir? What may I call your name,

Pet. Petruchio is my name, Antonio's loue,

A man well knowne throughout all Italy.

Bap. I know him well: you are welcome for his fake.

Gre. Sauing your tale Petruchio, I pray let vs that are
poore petitioners speake too? Batare, you are meduay-
lous forward.

Pet. Oh, Pardon me, Signior Gremio, I would faire be
doing.

Gre. I doubt it not fir. But you will curse

Your wooing neighbors: this is a guife.

Very gratefully, I am fuke of it, to expresse

The like kindneffe my selfe, that haue beene

More kindly beholding to you then any

Freely giue vnto this yong Scholler, that hathe

Beene long studying at Rhemes, as cunning

In Greece, Latine, and other Languages,

As the other in Muficke and Mathematicke:

His name is Cambio: pray accept his seruice.

Bap. A thousand thankes Signior Gremio:

Welcome good Cambio. But gentle fir,

Me thinkes you walke like a stranger,

May it be so bold, to know the cause of your comming ?

Tra. Pardon me fir, the boldneffe is mine owne:

That being a stranger in this Cittie here:

Do make my selfe a futor to your daughter,

Vnto Bianca, faire and vertuous:

Nor is your firme refuol vnknowne to me,

In the preferment of the eldest fiftner,

This liberty is all that I request, or

That vpon knowledge of my Parentage,

I may haue welcome mong the rest that woo,

And free accetle and fauour as the rest.

And toward the education of your daughters:

I heere beftow a simple instrument,

And this small packet of Greece and Latine booke:

If you accept them, then their worth is great:

Bap. Lucentio is your name, of whence I pray.

Tra. Of Pisa fir, londe to Vincentio.

Bap. A mightie man of Pisa by report,

I know him well: you are verie welcome fir:

Take you the Lute, and you the set of booke,

You shall go fee your Pupils preventely.

Holla, within.

Enter a Servant.

Sirrah, leadeth thefe Gentlemen

To my daughters, and tell them both:

These are their Tutors, bid them vse them well,

We will go walke a little in the Orchard,

And then to dinner: you are pafling welcome,

And so I pray you all to thinke your felues.

Pet. Signior Baptista, my businesse asketh hafte:

And euerie day I cannot come to woo,

You knew my father well, and in him me,

Left folie heire to all his Lands and goods,

Which I haue bettered rather then decreast,

Then tell me, if I get your daughters loue,

What dowie shall I haue with her to wife.

Bap. After my death, the one half of my Lands,

And in possession twentie thousand Crownes.

Pet. And for that dowie, Ile affure her of

Her widdow-bood, be it that shee ſuiue me

In all my Lands and Leaſes what ſoever,

Let ſpecialties be therefore drawne betweene vs,

That couenants may be kept on either hand.

Bap. I, when the speciall thing is well obtain'd,

That is her loue: for that is all in all.

Pet. Why that is nothing: for I tell you father,

I am as peremptorie as the proud minded:

And where two raging fires meete together,

They do confume the thing that feedes their ſurie.

Though little fire growes great with little winde,
yet extreme gufts will blow out fire and all:

So I to her, and so I yeelds to me,

For I am rough, and woo not like a babe.

Bap. Well maifth thou woo, and happy be thy speed:

But be your arm'd for some vnhappie words.

Pet. I to the proofe, as Mountaines are for windes,
That shakes not, though they blow perpetually.

Enter Hortensia with his head broke.

Bpa.

The Taming of the Shrew.

216

Bap. How now my friend, why doft thou looke so
pale?

Hor. For fear I promise you, if I looke pale.

Bap. What, will my daughter prove a good Musici-
an?

Hor. I thinke she'l sooner prove a souldier,
Iron may hold with her, but neuer Lutes.

Bap. Why then thou canst not break her to the Lute?

Hor. Why no, for she hath broke the Lute to me:

I did but tell her she mistook her fretts,
And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering,
When (with a most impatient diuellish spirit)
Frets call you these? (quoth she) Ile fume with them:

And with that word she fltroke me on the head,
And through the instrument my pate made way,
And there I found amazed for a while,
As on a Pillorie, looking through the Lute,

And there I found amazed for a while,
As on a Pillorie, looking through the Lute,
While she did call me Rafcsl, Fidler,

And twangling Iacke, with twentie such vilde tearmes,
As had she studied to miffy me so.

Pet. Now by the world, it is a luftie Wench,
I loue her ten times more then cre I did,
Oh how I long to haue some chat with her.

Bap. Wel go with me, and be not so difcomfited.
Proceed in practice with my yonger daughter,
She's apt to learne, and thankefull for good turnes:
Signior Petruchio, will you go with vs,
Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you.

Exit. Manet Petruchio.

Pet. I pray you do. Ile attend her heere,

And woo her with some ſpirit when she comes,
Say that she rale, why then Ile tell her plaine,
She flings as sweetly as a Nightingale :

Say that she frowne, Ile ſay she looks as cleere

As morning Rofes newly waſt with dew :
Say she be mute, and will not ſpeak e a word,
Then Ile commend her volubility,

And ſay she vntereth piercing eloquence :
If she do bid me packe, Ile giue her thanks,
As though she bid me stay by her a weeke :

If she denie to wed, Ile craue the day
When I shall aske the banes, and when be married.

But heere she comes, and now Petruchio ſpeake.

Enter Katerina.

Good morrow Kate, for that your name I heare.

Kate. Well haue you heard, but something hard of
hearing:
They call me Katerine, that do talke of me.

Pet. You lye infaith, for you are call'd plaine Kate,

And bony Kate, and sometimes Kate the curſt :

But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendome,

Kate of Kate-hall, my ſuper-daintie Kate,
For dainties are all Kates, and therefore Kate

Take this of me, Kate of my confolation,

Hearing thy mildneſſe prais'd in every Towne,

Thy vertues ſpoke of, and thy beautie ſounded,

Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs,
My ſelfe am moou'd to woo thee for my wife.

Kate. Mou'd, in good time, let him that mou'd you
hether

Remoue you hence: I knew you at the first

You were a moulable.

Pet. Why, what's a moulable?

Kat. A ioyn'd ſtoole.

Pet. Thou haſt hit it: come fit on me.

Kate. Aſſes are made to beare, and so are you,

Pet. Women are made to beare, and so are you.

Kate. No ſuch Iade as you, if me you meane.

Pet. Alas good Kate, I will not burthen thee,

For knowing thee to be but yong and light.

Kate. Too light for ſuch a ſwaine as you to catch,
And yet as heauie as my weight should be.

Pet. Shold be, should: buzze.

Kate. Well tane, and like a buzzard.

Pet. Oh flow-wing'd Turtle, ſhal a buzzard take the ſee?

Kate. I for a Turtle, as he takes a buzzard.

Pet. Come, come you Waſpe, y'faith you are too
angrie.

Kate. If I be waſpife, beſt beware my ſting.

Pet. My remedy is then to plucke it out,

Kate. I, if the foole could finde it where it lies.

Pet. Who knowes not where a Waſpe does weare
his ſting? In his taile.

Kate. In his tongue?

Pet. Whof tongue.

Kate. Yours if you talke of tales, and so farewell.

Pet. What with my tongue in your taile.

Nay, come againe, good Kate, I am a Gentleman,

Kate. That Ile trie.

ſhe striketh him

Pet. I ſweare Ile cuffe you, if you ſtrike againe.

Kate. So may you looke your armes,

If you strike me, you are no Gentleman,
And if no Gentleman, why then no armes.

Pet. A Herald Kate? Oh put me in thy booke's,

Kate. What is your Creſt, a Coxcombe?

Pet. A combleſſe Cocke, so Kate will be my Hen.

Kate. No Cocke of mine, you crow too like a kraue.

Pet. Nay come Kate, come : you muſt not looke forwre.

Kate. It is my ſtyle when I ſee a Crab.

Pet. Why heere's no crab, and therefore looke not
forwre.

Kate. There is, there is.

Pet. Then ſhew it me.

Kate. Had I a glaſſe, I would.

Pet. What, you meane my face.

Kate. Well aym'd of ſuch a yong one.

Pet. Now by S. George I am too yong for you.

Kate. Yet you are wither'd.

Pet. 'Tis with cares,

Kate. I care not.

Pet. Nay heare you Kate. Inſooth you ſcape not for.

Kate. I chafe you if I tarrie. Let me go.

Pet. No, not a whit, I finde you paſſing gentle:

Twas told me you were rough, and coy, and ſullen,
And now I finde report a very liar :

For thou art pleasant, gameſome, paſſing courteous,

But flow in speech: yet ſweet as spring-time flowers.

Thou canſt not frowne, thou canſt not looke a ſconce,
Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will,

Nor haſt thou pleasure to be croſſe in talke :

But thou with mildneſſe entertain ſt thy wooers,

With gentle conference, ſoft, and affable.

Why does the world report that Kate doth limpe?

Oh ſland'rous world: Kate like the hazle twig

Is ſtraight, and ſlender, and as brownie in hue

As hazle nuts, and ſweeter then the kernels :

Oh let me ſee thee walke: thou doſt not halt.

Kate. Go ſoole, and whom thou keep't command.

Pet. Did euer Diann so become a Groome

As Kate this chamber with her princely gate :

Obе thou Diann, and let her be Kate,

And

["The Taming of the Shrew.", "217", "And then let Kate be chafte, and Dian sport full,", "Kate. Where did you fludy all this goodly speech?", "Petr. It is extempore, from my mother wit.", "Kate. A witry mother, witlefle else her sonne.", "Pet. Am I not wife?", "Kait. Yes, keepe you warme.", "Pet. Marry so I meane sweet Katherine in thy bed:", "And therefore setting all this chat aside,\nThus in plain terms: your father hath coniented\nThat you shall be my wife; your dowry greed on,\nAnd will you, nil you, I will marry you.", "Now Kate, I am a husband for your turne,\nFor by this light, whereby I see thy beauty,", "Thy beauty that doth make me like thee well,", "Thou muſt be married to no man but me,", "Enter Baptista, Gremio, Trayno.", "For I am he that he borne to tame you Kate,", "And bring you from a wilde Kate to a Kate", "Conformable as other household Kates :", "Heere comes your father, neuer make denial,", "I muſt, and will haue Katherine to my wife. (daughter?", "Bap. Now Signior Petruchio, how ſpeed you with my", "Pet. How but well firſhow but well?", "It were impoſsible I should ſpeed amitle. (dumps?)", "Bap. Why how now daughter Katherine, in your", "Kat. Call you me daughter? now I promife you", "You haue ſhewd a tender fatherly regard,", "To wifh me wed to one halfè Lunaticke,", "A mad-cap ruffian, and a ſwearing Jacke,", "That thinkes with oathes to face the matter out.", "Pet. Father, 'tis thus, your ſelfe and all the world", "That talk'd of her, haue talk'd amifle of her :", "If she be curſt, it is for pollicie.", "For ſhee's not ſrownd, but modelt as the Dowe,", "Shee is not hot, but temperate as the morne,", "For patience ſhee will proue a ſecond Grifſell,", "And Romane Luerelee for her chaſticie :", "And to conclude, we haue greed so well together,", "That vpon ſonday is the wedding day.", "Kate. Ile fee thee hang'd on ſonday firſt.", "(firſt.)", "Gre. Hark Petruſchio, ſhe faies ſhee'll fee thee hang'd", "Tra. Is this your ſpeeding? Nay, th' e godnight our part.", "Pet. Be patient gentlemen, I chooſe her for my ſelfe,", "If she and I be pleas'd, what's that to you?", "'Tis bargain'd twixt vs twaine being alone,", "That ſhe ſhall fill be curſt in company.", "Itell you 'tis incredible to beleeue", "How much ſhe loues me: oh the kindeſt Kate,", "Shee hung about my necke, and kiffe on kiffe", "Shee vid' d off, proteſting oath on oath,", "That in a twinke ſhe won me to her loue.", "Oh you are nouices, 'tis a world to fee", "How tame when men and women are alone,", "A meacocke wretch can make the curſteſt ſhew:", "Gie me thy hand Kate, I will vnto Venice", "To buy apparell 'gainſt the wedding day;", "Prouide the feaſt father, and bid the gueſts,", "I will be ſure my Katherine shall be ſine.", "Bap. I know not what to ſay, but giue me your hands,\nGod ſend you ioy, Petruchio, 'tis a match.", "Gre. Tra. Amen ſay we, we will be wittieſſes.", "Pet. Father, and wife, and gentlemen adice,\nI will to Venice, ſonday comes apace,", "We will haue rings, and things, and fine array,", "And kiffe me Kate, we will be married a ſonday,", "Exit Petruchio and Katherine.", "Gre. Was euer match clapt vp for dainely?", "Bap. Fath Gentlemen now I play a marchants part,", "And venture madly on a deſperate Mart.", "Tra. Twas a commodity lay fetting by you,", "'Twill bring you gaine, or perſish on the fea.", "Bap. The gaine I feeke, is quiet me the match,", "Gre. No doubt but he hath got a quiet catch:", "But now Baptista, to your yonger daughter,", "Now is the day we long haue looked for,", "I am your neighbour, and was further firſt.", "Tra. And I am one that loue Bianca more", "Then words can witleſſe, or your thoughts can gueſſe.", "Gre. Yongling thou canſt not loue for deare as I.", "Tra. Gray-beard thy loue doth treeze.", "Gre. But thine doth ſrie,", "Skipper fland backe, 'tis age that nouriſeth.", "Tra. But youth in Ladies eyes that florifeth.", "Bap. Content you gentlemen, I will couple this kiffe", "'Tis deeds muſt win the prize, and he of both", "That can affure my daughter greateſt dower,", "Shall haue my Biancas loue.", "Say ſignior Gremio, what can you affure her ?", "Gre. Firſt, as you know, my houſe within the City", "Is richly ſ furnished with plate and gold,", "Bafons and ewers to laue her dainty hands :", "My hangings all of tirian tapeſtry :", "In luory cofers I haue ſluſt my crownes :", "In Cypres cheſtes my arras counterpoints,", "Coſtly apparell, tents, and Canopies,", "Fine Linnen, Turky cuſhions bolt with pearle,", "Vallens of Venice gold, in needle worke :", "Pewter and braſſe, and all things that belongs", "To houſe or houſe-keeping: then at my farme", "I haue a hundred milch-kine to the pale,", "Sixe ſcore fat Oxen ſtanding in my ſtalls,", "And all things anſwerable to this portion.", "My ſelfe am ſtrooke in yeeres I muſt confesse,", "And if I die to morrow this is hers,", "If whil't I lieue ſhe will be only mine.", "Tra. That only came well in: fir, lift to me,", "I am my fathers heyre and only ſonne,", "If I may haue your daughter to my wife,", "I leaue her houſes three or ſoure as good", "Within rich Pisa walls, as any one", "Old Signior Gremio has in Padua,", "Befides, two thouſand Ducks by the yeere", "Of fruitiſt ſand, all which ſhall be her ioynter.", "What, haue I pinched you Signior Gremio?", "Gre. Two thouſand Ducks by the yeere of land,", "My Land amounts not to ſo much in all :", "That ſhe ſhall haue, beſides an Argoſe", "That now is lying in Marcellus roade :", "What, haue I choakt you with an Argoſe?", "Tra. Gremio, 'tis knowne my father hath no leſſe", "Then three great Argoſes, beſides two Galliaſſes", "And twelue ſite Gallies, theſe I will affure her,", "And twice as much what ere thou offreſt next.", "Gre. Nay, I haue offred all, I haue no more,", "And ſhe can haue no more then all I haue,", "If you like me, ſhe ſhall haue me and mine.", "Tra. Why then the maid is

The Taming of the Shrew.

218

Shee is your owne, else you muft pardon me:
If you should die before him, where's her dower?

Tra. That's but a cauill: he is olde, I young.

Gre. And may not yong men die as well as old?

Bap. Well gentlemen, I am thus refolu'd,

On fonder next, you know

My daughter Katherine is to be married:

Now on the fonder following, shall Bianca

Be Bride to you, if you make this affurance:

It not, to Signior Gremio:

And so I take my leaue, and thanke you both. Exit.

Gre. Adieu good neighbour: now I feare thee not:

Sirra, yong gamefter, your father were a foole

To giue thee all, and in his wayning age

Set foot vnder thy table: tut, a toy,

An olde Italian foxe is not so kinde my boy. Exit.

Tra. A vengeance on your crafty witherred hide,

Yet I haue fac'd it with a card of ten:

'Tis in my head to doe my mafter good:

I see no reafon but fuppos'd Lucentio

Muft get a father, call'd fuppos'd Vincentio,

And that's a wonder: fathers commonly

Doe get their children: but in this caufe of woing,

A childe shall get a fire, if I faile not of my cunning. Exit.

Actus Tertia.

Enter Lucentio, Hortensio, and Bianca.

Luc. Fidler forbeare you grow too forward Sir,
Hae you so foone for got the entertainment
Her fitter Katherine welcom'd you withall.

Hort. But wrangling pedant, this is

The patronesse of heaunely harmony:

Then giue me leaue to haue prerogative,

And when in Muficke we haue spent an houre,

Your Lection shall haue leifure for as much.

Luc. Prefterous Afle that neuer read so farre,

To know the caufe why muſicke was ordain'd:

Was it not to refrefh the minde of man

After his ſtudies, or his ſvuall paine ?

Then giue me leaue to read Philofophy,

And while I paule, ferue in your harmony.

Hort. Sirra, I will not beare theſe braues of thine.

Bianc. Why gentlemen, you doe me double wrong,

To ſtrie for that which refſeth in my choice:

I am no breeching ſcholler in the Schooles,

Ile not be tied to howres, nor pointed times,

But learne my Leſsons as I please my ſelfe,

And to cut off all ſtrife: heere fit we downe,

Take you your inſtrument, play you the whiles,

His Lection will be done ere you haue tun'd.

Fort. You'll leaue his Lection when I am in tune?

Luc. That will be neuer, tune your inſtrument.

Bian. Where left we laſt?

Luc. Heere Madam: Hic Ibat Simois, hie eſt figeria
tellus, bic ſleterat Priami regia Celfa ſenis.

Bian. Conſter them.

Luc. Hic Ibat, as I told you before, Simois, I am Lu-
centio, his eſt, ſonne vnto Vincentio of Pisa, Sigeriatel-
lus, diſguifed thus to get your loue, bic ſleterat, and that
Lucentio that comes a wooing, priami, is my man Tra-
nio, regia, bearing my port, celfa ſenis that we might be-
guile the old Pantalowne.

Hort. Madam, my Inſtrument's in tune.

Bian. Let's heare, oh ſic, the treble iarres.

Luc. Spit in the hole man, and tune againe.

Bian. Now let me eſe if I can conſter it. Hic ibat fi-
mois, I know you not, bic eſt figeria tellus, I truſt you not,
bic ſleterat priami, take heede he heare vs not, regia pre-
lume not, Celfa ſenis, deſpaire not.

Hort. Madam, this now in tune.

Luc. All but the base.

Hort. The base is right, 'tis the base knaue that iare.

Luc. How ſiery and forward our Pedant is,
Now for my life the knaue doth count my loue,
Pedaficule, Ile watch you better yet.

In time I may beleeue, yet I miſtruſt.

Bian. Miſtruſt it not, for ſure Aćacides.

Was Aax cald fo from his grandfather.

Hort. I muſt beleeue my mafter, else I promife you,
I should be arguing ſtill vpon that doubt,
But let it reſt, now Littio to you:

Good mafter take it not vnkindly pray

That I haue beene thus pleafant with you both.

Hort. You may go walk, and giue me leaue a while,
My Leſsons make no muſicke in three parts.

Luc. Are you ſo formall ſir, well I muſt waite
And watch withall, for but I be deceu'd,
Our fine Mufitian groweth amorous.

Hor. Madam, before you touch the inſtrument,
To learne the order of my ſingering,
I muſt begin with rudiments of Art,
To teach you gamoth in a brieſer ſon,
More pleafant, pithy, and effectuall,

Then hath beene taught by any of my trade,

And there it is in writing fairly drawne.

Bian. Why, I am paſt my gamouth long agee,

Hor. Yet read the gamouth of Hortensio.

Bian. Gamouth I am, the ground of all accord:
Are, to plead Hortenſio's paffion :

Beeme, Bianca take him for thy Lord

Cfaavt, that loues with all aſſection:

D ſolre, one Cliffe, two notes have I,

Elami, ſhow pitty or I die.

Call you this gamouth ? tut I like it not,

Old fashions pleafe me beſt, I am not ſo nice

To charge true rules for old inuentions.

Enter a Meſſenger.

Nicke. Miſtreſſe, your prayes you leaue your
And helpe to drefſe your ſifters chamber vp, (books)
You know to morrow is the wedding day.

Bian. Farewell ſweet maſters both, I muſt be gone.

Luc. Faith Miſtreſſe then I haue no cauſe to ſtay.

Hor. But I haue cauſe to pry into this pedant,

Methinkes he lookes as though he were in loue:

Yet if thy thoughts Bianca be so humble

To caſt thy wandring eyes on euery ſtale:

Seize thee that Lift, if once I finde thee ranging,

Hortenſio will be quit with thee by changing. Exit.

Enter Baptiſta, Gremio, Tranio, Katherine, Bianca, and others, attendants.

Bap. Signior Lucentio, this is the pointed day
That Katherine and Petruchio should be married,
And yet we heare not of our ſonne in Law:

What will be faſd, what mockery will it be?

To want the Bride-groome when the Prieff attends
To speake the ceremoniall rites of marriage?

What ſaies Lucentio to this ſhame of ours?

No

The Taming of the Shrew.

219

**Kate.** No shame but mine, I must forfooth be forfet
To gue my hand oppos'd against my heart
Vnto a mad-braine rudesby, full of pleene,
Who woo'd in haſte, and meanes to wed at leyſure
I told you I, he was a fracticke toole,
Hiding his bitter lefts in blunt behauiour,
And to be noted for a merry man;
Hee'll wooe a thousand, point the day of marriage,
Make friends, inuite; and proelaine the banes,
Yet neuer meanes to wed where he hath woo'd:
Now muſt the world point at poore Katherine,
And ſay, loe, there is mad Petruchio's wife
It would please him come and marry her.

**Tra.** Patience good Katherine and Baptista to,
Vpon my life Petruchio meanes but well,
What euuer fortune ſtayes him from his word,
Though he be blunt, I know him paſſing wife ;
Though he be merry, yet withall he's honest.

**Kate.** Would Katherine had neuer seen him though.

Exit weeping.

**Bap.** Goe girle, I cannot blame thee now to weepe,
For ſuch an iniurie would vexe a very faint,
Much more a ſhrew of inpatient humour.

Enter Biondello.

**Bion.** Maſter, maſter, newes, and ſuch newes as you neuer heard of,

**Bap.** Is it new and olde too? how may that be?

**Bion.** Why, is it not newes to hear of Petruchio's

**Bap.** Is he come?

(comming)

**Bion.** Why no fir.

**Bap.** What then?

**Bion.** He is comming.

**Bap.** When will he be heere?

**Bion.** When he stands where I am, and ſees you there.

**Tra.** But ſay, what to thine olde newes?

**Bion.** Why Petruchio is comming, in a new hat and an old ierkin, a paire of olde breeches thrice turn'd; a paire of bootes that haue beene candle-cáſes, one buckled, another lac'd: an olde ruyſe sword tane out of the Towne Armory, with a broken hilte, and chapelleſſe: with two broken points: his horſe hip'd with an olde motherdiddle, and firrops of no kindred: bſefides poſſeſt with the glanders, and like to mofe in the chine, troubled with the Lampaffe, inſeetied with the ſaſtions, full of Windegalls, ſped with Spauins, raied with the Yellowowe, paſt cure of the Fiuſes, ſtarke ſpoyl'd with the Staggers, begnawne with the Bots, Waid in the backe, and shoulder-ſhotten, neere leg'd before, and with a halfe-chekt Bitte, & a headſtall of sheepes leather, which being reſtrain'd to keepe him from flumbling,hath been often burſt, and now repaired with knots: one girth ſixe times peec'd, and a womans Crupper of velure, which hath two lechers for her name, fairely ſet down in fluds, and heere and there peec'd with packthred.

**Bap.** Who comes with him?

**Bion.** Oh fir, his Lackey, for all the world Caparifon'd like the horſe: with a linnen ſtock on one leg, and a kerſey boot-hoſe on the other, gartred with a red and blew lift; an old hat, & the humor of forty fancies prickt in't for a feather: a monſter, a very monſter in apparell, & not like a Christian foot-boy, or a gentlemans Lacky.

**Tra.** 'Tis ſome od humor pricks him to this fashion,
Yet oftentimes he goes but meane apparel'd.

**Bap.** I am glad he's come, howſoere he comes.

**Bion.** Why fit, he comes not.

**Bap.** Didſt thou not ſay hee comes?

**Bion.** Who, that Petruchio came?

**Bap.** I, that Petruchio came.

(backe.

**Bion.** No fir, I ſay his horſe comes with him on his

**Bap.** Why that's all one.

**Bion.** Nay by S. Annay, I hold you a penny, a horſe and a man is more then one, and yet not many.

Enter Petruchio and Grumio.

**Pet.** Come, where be theſe gallants? who's at home?

**Bap.** You are welcome fir.

**Pet.** And yet I come not well,

**Bap.** And yet you halt not.

**Tra.** Not ſo well apparell'd as I with you were.

**Petr.** Were it better I should rufſh in thus :

But where is Kate? where is my louely Bride?

How does my father gentles methinkes you ſrowne,

And wherefore gaze this goodly company,

As if they ſaw ſome wondrous monument,

Some Commet, or vnvuſull prodigie?

**Bap.** Why fir, you know this is your wedding day:

First were we ſad, ſearing you would not come,

Now ſadder that you come ſo vnprouided:

Fie, doſſ this habit, ſhame to your eſtate,

An eye-fore to our ſolemne ſeſtuall.

**Tra.** And tell vs what occafion of import

Hath all ſo long detain'd you from your wife,

And ſent you hither ſo vnlike your ſelfe?

**Petr.** Tedious it were to tell, and harſh to heare,

Sufficeth I am come to keepe my word,

Though in ſome part inſorced to digreſſe,

Which at more leyſure I will ſo excufe,

As you ſhall well be ſatisfied with all.

But where is Kate? I ſtay too long from her,

The morning weares, 'tis time we were at Church.

**Tra.** See not your Bride in theſe vnreuerent robes,

Goe to my chamber, put on clothes of mine.

**Pet.** Not I, beleeue me, thus Ile vifit her.

**Bap.** But thus I truſt you will not marry her. (words,

**Pet.** Good foot euen thus : therefore ha done with

To me ſhe's married, not vnto my cloathes :

Could I repaire what ſhe will weare in me,

As I can change theſe poore accoutrements,

Twere well for Kate, and better for my ſelfe.

But what a foole am I to chat with you,

When I should bid good morrow to my Bride?

And feale the title with a louely kisse.

Exit.

**Tra.** He hath ſome meaning in his mad attire,

We will perſwade him be it poſſible,

Toput on better ere he goe to Church.

**Bap.** Ile after him, and fee the euent of this.

Exit.

**Tra.** But fir, Loue concerneth vs to adde

Her fathers liking, which to bring to paffe

As before imparted to your worſhip,

I am to get a man what ere he be,

It skills not much, weele ſic him to our turne,

And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa,

And make allſurance heere in Padua

Of greater ſummes then I haue promiſed,

So ſhall you quietly enjoy your hope,

And marry ſweet Bianca with consent.

**Luc.** Were it not that my ſellow Schoolemaſter

Doth watch Bianca's ſteps ſo narrowly :

Twere good me-thinkes to ſeale out marriage,

Which once perform'd,let all the world ſay no,

Ile keepe mine owne despite of all the world.

**Tra.** That by degrees we meane to looke into,

T 2

And

The Taming of the Shrew.

220

And watch our vantage in this busineſſe,
We'll ouer-reach the grey-beard Grernio,
The narrow prying father Minola,
The quaint Muſcian, amorous Litio,
All for my Maſters ſake Lucentio.

Enter Grernio.

Signior Grernio, came you from the Church?

Gre. As willingly as ere I came from Schoole.

Tra. And is the Bride & Bridegroom coming home?

Gre. A bridegroome ſay you? 'tis a groome indeed,
A grumlling groome, and that the girle ſhall finde.

Tra. Cutfier then ſhe, why 'tis impoffible.

Gre. Why hee's a deuill, a deuill, a very fiend.

Tra. Why ſhe's a deuill, a deuill, the deuill damme.

Gre. Tut, ſhe's a Lambe, a Doue, a fool to him:
Ile tell you fir Lucentio; when the Prieft
Should aske if Katherine ſhould be his wife,
I, by goggs woones quoth he, and ſwore so loud,
That all amaz'd the Prieft let fall the booke,
And as he ſtoop'd againe to take it vp,
This mad-brain'd bridegroome tooke him ſuch a cuffe,
That downe fell Prieft and booke, and booke and Prieft,
Now take them vp quoth he, if any lift.

Tra. What faid the wench when he roſe againe?

Gre. Trembled and ſhooke: for why, he ſtamp'd and ſwore, as if the Vicar meant to cozen him: but after ma-
ny ceremonies done, hee calls for wine, a health quoth he, as if he had beene aboord carowſing to his Mates af-
ter a ſtorme, quaſt off the Muſcadell, and threw the fops
all in the Sextons face: hauing no other reaſon, but that
his beard grew thinne and hungerly, and ſeem'd to aske
him fops as hee was drinking: This done, hee tooke the
Bride about the necke, and kift her lips with ſuch a cla-
morous ſmacke, that at the parting all the Church did
eccho: and I ſeeing this, came thence for very ſhame, and
after mee I know the rout is comming, ſuch a mad mar-
ryage neuer was before: harke, harke, I heare the min-
ſtrels play.

Musicales playes.

Enter Petruchio, Kate, Bianca, Hortenio, Baptista.

Petr. Gentlemen & friends, I thank you for your pains,
I know you thinke to dine with me to day,
And haue prepar'd great ſtore of wedding cheere,
But to it is, my haſe doth call me hence,
And therefore heere I meane to take my leaue.

Bap. Is't poffible you will away to night?

Pet. I muſt away to day before night come,
Make it no wonder: if you knew my busineſſe,
You would intreat me rather goe then ſtay:
And honest company, I thanke you all,
That haue beheld me giue away my ſelfe
To this moſt patient, ſweet, and vertuous wife,
Dine with my father, drinke a health to me,
For I muſt hence, and farewell to you all.

Tra. Let vs intreat you ſlay till after dinner.

Pet. It may not be.

Gra. Let me intreat you.

Pet. It cannot be.

Kat. Let me intreat you.

Pet. I am content.

Kat. Are you content to ſtay?

Pet. I am content you ſhall entreat me ſtay,
But yet not ſtay, entreat me how you can.

Kat. Now if you loue me ſtay.

Pet. Grumio, my horſe.

Gru. I fir, they be ready, the Oates haue eaten the horſes.

Kate. Nay then,
Doe what thou canſt, I will not goe to day,
No, nor to morrow, not till I pleafe my ſelfe,
The dore is open fir, there lies your way,
You may be iogging whiles your bootes are greene:
For me, Ile not be gone till I pleafe my ſelfe,
'Tis like you'll proue a jolly ſurly ſurly groome,
That take it on you at the firſt ſo roundly.

Pet. O Kate content thee, prethee be not angry.

Kat. I will be angry, what haſt thou to doe?

Father, be quiet, he ſhall ſtay my leifure.

Gre. I marry fir, now it begins to worke.

Kat. Gentlemen, forward to the bridall dinner,
I fee a woman may be made a foole
If she had not a ſpirit to refiſt.

Pet. They ſhall goe forward Kate at the command,
Obey the Bride you that attend on her.

Goe to the ſeaf, reuell and domineere,
Carowſe full meaſure to her maiden-head,
Be made and merry, or goe hang your ſelues:

But for my bonny Kate, ſhe muſt with me:
Nay, looke not big, nor ſtampe, nor ſtare, nor fret,
I will be maſter of what is mine owne,

Shee is my goods, my chattels, ſhe is my houſe,
My houſhold-ſtuffe, my field, my barne,
My horſe, my oxe, my aſſe, my any thing,

And heere ſhe ſtands, touch her who euer dare,
Ile bring mine action on the proudeſt he

That ſtops my way in Padua: Grumio

Draw forth thy weapon, we are better with theuees,
Reſcue thy Mifſeffe if thou be a man:

Feare not to weet, wench, they ſhall not touch thee Kate,
Ile buckler thee againſt a Million,

Exeunt. P. Ka.

Bap. Nay, let them goe, a couple of quiet ones. (ing

Gre. Went they not quickly, I should die with laugh

Tra. Of all mad matches neuer was the like.

Luc. Mifſeffe, what's your opinion of your ſifter?

Bian. That being mad her ſelfe, ſhe's madly mated.

Gre. I warrant him Petruchio is Kated.

Bap. Neighbours and friends, though Bride & Bride
For to supply the places at the table, (groom wants

You know there wants no junkets at the ſeaf:

Lucentio, you ſhall fuppely the Bridegroomes place,
And let Bianca take her lifters reome.

Tra. ſhall weſe Bianca practise how to bride it?

Bap. She ſhall Lucentio: come gentlemen lets goe.

Enter Grernio.

Exeunt.

Gru.: Fie, ſie on all tired Iades, on all mad Maſters, &
all foule waies: was euer man ſo beaten? was euer man
ſo raide ? was euer man ſo weary ? I am ſent before to
make a fire, and they are comming after to warme them:
now were not I a little pot, & ſoone hot; my very lippet
might freeze to my teeth, my tongue to the roofte of my
mouth, my heart in my belly, ere I should come by a fire
to thaw me, but I with blowing the fire ſhall warme my
ſelfe: for considering the weather, a taller man then I
will take cold: Holla, hoa Curtis.

Enter Curtis.

Curt. Who is that calls so coldly?

Gru. A piece of Ice: if thou doubt it, thou maſt
ſlide from my shoulder to my heele, with no
greater

The Taming of the Shrew.

Kate. Patience I pray you, 'twas a fault vnwilling.

Pet. A horzon beetle-headed flap-ear'd knaue:
Come Kate fit downe, I know you haue a stomacke,
Will you giue thankes, sweete Kate, or else shall I?
What's this, Mutton?

1. Ser. I.

Pet. Who brought it?

Peter, I.

Pet. 'Tis burnt, and so is all the meate:
What dogges are these? Where is the rafcall Cooke?
How durft you villaines bring it from the drefter
And ferue it thus to me that loue it not?
There, take it to you, trenchers, cups, and all:
You heedleffe iolt-heads, and vnmanner'd flaues.
What, do you grumble? He be with you straight,
Kate. I pray you husband be not so disquiet,
The meate was well, if you were so contented.

Kate. I pray you husband be not so disquiet,
The meate was well, if you were so contented.
Pet. I tell thee Kate, 'twas burnt and dried away,
And I expreffely am forbid to touch it:

For it engenders choller, planteth anger,
And better 'twere that both of vs did faft,
Since of our felues, our felues are chollerick,
Then feede it with such ouer-rofted flesh:
Be patient, to morrow't shall be mended,
And for this night we'll faft for companie.

Come I wil bring thee to thy Bridall chamber.

Excuse.

Enter Servants generally.

Nath. Peter didst euer fee the like.

Peter. He kils her in her owne humor.

Grummio. Where is he?

Enter Curtis a Servant.

Cur. In her chamber, making a sermon of continen-
cie to her, and railles, and fweares, and rates, that shee
(poore foule) knowes not which way to stand, to looke,
to ſpeake, and fits as one new rifen from a dreame. A-
way, away, for he is comming hither.

Enter Petruchio.

Pet. Thus haue I politickely begun my reigne,
And 'tis my hope to end faucleſſefully:

My Faulcon now is tharpe, and paſſing empty,
And til the floope, ſhe muſt not be full gorg'd,
For then ſhe neuer lookse vpon her lure.

Another way I haue to man my Haggard,
To make her come, and know her Keepers call:
7. hatis, to watch her, as we watch thele Kites,
That baite, and beate, and will not be obedient :

She eate no meate to day, nor none shall eate.

Laſt night ſhe flept not, nor to night ſhe ſhall not:

As with the meate, ſome vndeferued fault

Ile finde about the making of the bed,

And heere Ile fling the pillow, there the boulſter,

This way the Couerlet, another way the ſheets :

I, and amid this hurlie I intend,

That all is done in reuerend cae of her,

And in conclusion, ſhe ſhal watch all night,

And if ſhe chance to nod, Ile raile and brawle,

And with the clamor keepe her ſtil awake :

This is a way to kill a Wife with kindneſſe,

And thus Ile curbe her mad and headſtrong humor :

He that knowes better how to tame a ſhrew,

Now let him ſpeake, 'tis charity to ſhew.

Exit

Enter Tranio and Hortensio.

Tra. Is't possible friend Líſio, that miſtris Bianca
Doth fancie any other but Lucentio,
I tel you fir, ſhe beares me faire in hand.

Luc. Sir, to ſatſeſſe you in what I haue faid,

Stand by, and marke the manner of his teaching.

Enter Bianca.

Hor. Now Miftris, profit you in what you reade?

Bian. What Maſter reade you firſt, reſolue me that?

Hor. Ireade, that I proſeſſe the Art to loue.

Bian. And may you proue fir Master of your Art.

Lue. While you ſweet deere ptouè Miftrſeſſe of my
heart.

Hor. Quicke proceeders marry, now tel me I pray,
you that durſt ſware that your miſtris Bianca

Lou'd me in the World so well as Lucentio.

Tra. Oh deſpightful Loue, vnconſtant womankind,
I tel thee Líſio this is wonderful.

Hor. Miftake no more, I am not Líſio,

Nor a Mufitian as I ſeeme to bee,

But one that ſcorne to live in this diſguife,

For ſuch a one as leaues a Gentleman,

And makes a God of ſuch a Cullion ;

Know fir, that I am cal'd Hortenſio.

Tra. Signior Hortenſio, I haue often heard

Of your entire affection to Bianca,

And ſince mine eyes are witneſſe of her lightneſſe,

I wil with you, if you be ſo contented,

For ſware Bianca, and her loue for euer.

Hor. See how they kiffle and court: Signior Lucentio,
Heere is my hand, and heere I firmly vow
Neuer to woo her more, but do forſware her

As one vnworthe all the former fauours

That I haue fondly flatter'd them withall.

Tra. And heere I take the like vnfained oath,
Neuer to marrie with her, though ſhe would inſtate,
Fie on her, fee how beaſtly the doth court him!

Hor. Would all the world but he had quite forſwor
For me, that I may ſurely keepe mine oath.

I wil be married to a wealthy Widdow,

Ere three dayes paſſe, which hath as long lou'd me,

As I haue lou'd this proud diſdainful Haggard,
And ſo farewel ſignior Lucentio,

Kindneſſe in women, not their beauteous lookse

Shal win my loue, and ſo I take my leaue,

In reſolution, as I ſwore before.

Tra. Miftris Bianca, bleſſe you with ſuch grace,

As longeth to a Louers bleſſed caſe :

Nay, I haue cane you napping gentle Loue,

And haue forſworne you with Hortenſio.

Bian. Tranio you ieſt, but haue you both forſworne mee?

Tra. Miftris we haue.

Luo. Then we are rid of Líſio.

Tra. I'faith hee'll haue a lufſie Widdow now,

That ſhal be woo'd, and wedded in a day.

Bian. God giue him ioy.

Tra. I, and hee'll tame her.

Bianca. He ſayes ſo Tranio.

Tra. Faith he is gone vnto the taming ſchoole.

Bian. The taming ſchoole: what is there ſuch a place?

Tra. I miſtris, and Petruchio is the maſter,

That teacheth trickses eleuen and twentie long,

To tame a ſhrew, and charme her chattering tongue.

Enter Biandello.

Bion. Oh Maſter, maſter I haue watcht so long,

That I am dogge-wearie, but at laſt I spied

An ancient Angel comming downe the hill,

Wil ſerue the turne.

Tra. What is he Biandello?

Bio. Maſter, a Marcantant, or a pedant,

I

The Taming of the Shrew.

223

I know not what, but formall in apparrell,
In gate and countenance fureely like a Father.

Lnc. And what of him Tranio?

Tra. If he be credulous, and trust my tale,
Ile make me see Vincentio,
And giue affurance to Baptista Minola.

As ife were the right Vincentio.

Par. Take me your loue, and then let me alone.

Enter a Pedant.

Ped. God faue you fir.

Tra. And you fir, you are welcome,

Trauail you fatre on, or are you at the fartheft ?

Ped. Sir at the fartheft for a weeke or two,

But then vp farther, and as farre as Rome,

And to Tripolie; if God lend me life.

Tra. What Countreyman I pray?

Ped. Of Mantua.

Tra. Of Mantua Sir, marrie God forbid,
And come to Padua careleffe of your life.

Ped. My life fir? how I pray? for that goes hard.

Tra. Tis death for any one in Mantua.

To come to Padua, know you not the caufe ?

Your ships are staid at Y'enice, and the Duke

For priuate quarrel' twixt your Duke and him,

Hath publifh'd and proclaim'd it openly :

'Tis meruailc, but that you are but newly come,
you might haue heard it elle proclaim'd about.

Ped. Alas fir, it is worfe for me then fo,

For I haue bills for monie by exchange

From Florence, and muſt heere deliuer them.

Tra. Wel fir, to do you courteſe,

This wil I do, and this I wil auide you,

Firstt tell me, haue you euer beene at Pifa?

Ped. I fir, in Pifa haue I often bin,

Pifa renowned for graue Citizens.

Tra. Among them know you one Vincentio?

Ped. I know him not, but I haue heard of him:

A Merchant of incomparable wealth.

Tra. He is my father fir, and tooth to ſay,

In count'nance somewhat dech reſemble you.

Bion. As much as an apple doth an oyſter, & all one.

Tra. To ſaue your life in this extremitie,

This fauor wil I do you for his ſake, -

And thinke it not the worſt of all your fortunes,

That you are like to Sir Vincentio.

His name and credite ſhal you vndertake,

And in my houſe you ſhal be friendly lodg'd,

Looke that you take vpon you as you ſhould,

you vnderstand me fir: ſo ſhal you ſtay

Til you haue done your buſineſſe in the Citie :

If this be court'ſe fir, accept of it.

Ped. Oh fir I do, and wil repute you euer

The patron of my life and libertie.

Tra. Then go with me, to make the matter good,

This by the way I let you vnderstand,

My father is heere look'd for euerie day,

To paſſe affurance of a dowre in marriage

Twixt me, and one Baptista daughter heere:

In all these circumſtances Ile inſtruct you,

Go with me to cloath you as becomes you.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Katherina and Grumio.

Gru. No, no forſooth I dare not for my life.

Ka. The more my wrong, the more his ſpite appears,
What, did he marrie me to famiſh me?

Beggars that come vnto my fathers doore,

Vpon intreatie haue a preſent almes,

Ifnot, elsewhere they meete with charitie :

But I, who neuer knew how to intreat,

Nor neuer needed that I should intreat,

Am ſtaru'd for meate, giddie for lacke of ſleepe :

With oathes kept waking, and with brawling ſed,

And that which ſpightes me more then all theſe wants,

He does it vnder name of perſect loue :

As who ſhould ſay, if I ſhould ſleepe or eate:

'T were deadly ſiekneſſe, or eſſe preſent death.

I prethee go, and get me ſome repaſt,

I care not what, ſo it be holſome ſood.

Gru. What ſay you to a Neats ſtoode ?

Ka. 'Tis paſſing good, I prethee let me haue it.

Gru. I ſeare it is too chollerice a meate.

How ſay you to a fat Tripe finely broyl'd ?

Kate. I like it well, good Grumio fetch it me.

Gru. I cannot tell, I ſeare 'tis chollerice.

What ſay you to a peecce of Beeſe and Muſtard?

Kate. A diſh that I do loue to feede vpon.

Gru. I, but the Muſtard is too hot a little.

Ka. Why then the Beeſe, and let the Muſtard reſt.

Gru. Nay then I wil not, you ſhal haue the Muſtard
Or eſſe you get no beeſe of Grumio.

Kate. Then both or one, or any thing thou wilt.

Gru. Why then the Muſtard without the beeſe.

Ka. Go get thee gone, thou false deluding ſlaue,

Beats him.

That feed't me with the verie name of meate.

Sorrow on thee, and all the packe of you

That triumpheth vpon my miſery :

Go get theſe gone, I ſay.

Enter Petruchio, and Hortenſo with meate.

Petr. How ſares my Kate, what ſweeting all a-mort ?

Hor. Miftris, what cheere ?

Kate. Faith as cold as can be.

Pet. Plucke vp thy ſpirits, looke cheerfully vpon me.
Heere Loue, thou ſeelt how diligent I am,

To drefſe thy meate my ſelfe, and bring it thee.

I am ſure ſweet Kate, this kindneſſe merities thanks.

What, not a word? Nay then, thou louſt it not:

And all my paines is ſorted to no proofe.

Heere take away this diſh.

Kate. I pray you let it stand.

Pet. The pooreſt ſeruice is repaide with thanks,

And ſo ſhall mine before you touch the meate.

Kate. I thanke you fir.

Pet. Signior Petruchio, ſie you are too blame :

Come Miftris Kate, Ile beare you companie.

Petr. Eate it vp all Hortenſio, if thou loueſt mee:

Much good do it vnto thy gentle heart :

Kate eate apace; and now my honie Loue,

Will we returne vnto thy Fathers houſe,

And reuell it as braely as the beſt,

With ſilken coats and caps, and golden Rings,

With Ruffes and Cuffes, and Fardingales, and things :

With Scarſes, and Fannes, & double change of brau'ry,

With Amber Bracelets, Beades, and all this knau'ry.

What haſt thou din'd? The Tailor ſtaies thy leaſure,

To decke thy bodie with his ruffling treſasure.

Enter Tailor.

Come

The Taming of the Shrew.

224

Come Tailor, let vs see these ornaments.

Enter Haberdasher.

Lay forth the gowne. What newes with you fir?

Fel. Heere is the cap your Worship did beſpeake.

Pet. Why this was moulded on a porrenger,

A Veluet diſh: Fie, ſie, 'tis lewd and filthy,

Why 'tis a cockle or a walnut-shell,

A knacke, a toy, a tricke, a babies cap :

Away with it, come let me haue a bigger.

Kate. Ile haue no bigger, this doth fit the time,
And Gentlewomen weare ſuch caps as theſe.

Pet. When you are gentle, you shall haue one too,
And not till then.

Hor. That will not be in haſt.

Kate. Why fir I trust I may haue leaue to ſpeake,
And ſpeake I will. I am no childe, no babe,

Your betters haue indu'd me ſay my minde,
And If you cannot, beſt you ſtop your cares.

My tongue will tell the anger of my heart,
Or els my heart concealing it will breake,

And rather then it ſhall, I will be free,
Euen to the vttermott as I pleafe in words.

Pet. Why thou faſt true, it is paltrie cap,
A cuſtard coſſen, a bauble, a filken pic,
I loue thee well in that thou lik'st it not.

Kate. Loue me, or loue me not, I like the cap,
And it I will haue, or I will haue none.

Pet. Thy gowne, why I: come Tailor let vs ſee't.
Oh mercie God, what masking ſtuffe is heere?

What's this? a ſleeke ? 'tis like demi cannon,

What, vp and downe caru'd like an apple Tart?

Heers ſnip, and nip, and cut, and ſlith and ſlath,

Like to a Cenſor in a barbers ſhoppe:

Why what a devil name Tailor call't thou this ?

Hor. I ſee ſhees like to haue neither cap nor gowne.

Tail. You bid me make it orderlie and well,
According to the fashion, and the time.

Pet. Marrie and did: but if you be remembred,
I did not bid you marre it to the time.

Go hop me ouer euery kennell home,

For you shall hop without my cuſtome fir :

Ile none of it; hence, make your beſt of it.

Kate. I neuer ſaw a better ſashion'd gowne,
More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable :

Belike you meane to make a puppet of me.

Pet. Why true, he meanes to make a puppet of thee.

Tail. She faſes your Worship means to make a
puppet of her.

Pet. Oh monſtrous arrogance :

Thou lyeſt, thou thred, thou thimble,

Thou yard three quarters, halſe yard, quarter, mile,

Thou Flea, thou Nit, thou winter cricket thou :

Brau'd in mine owne house with a skeine of thred :

Away thou Ragge, thou quantitie, thou remnant,

Or I ſhall be mete thee with thy yard,

As thou haſt thinke on prating whil't thou liuſt :

I tell thee I, that thou haſt marr'd her gowne.

Tail. Your worſhip is deceu'd, the gowne is made
luſt as my maſter had direction :

Grumio gaue order how it should be done.

Gru. I gaue him no order, I gaue him the ſtuffe.

Tail. But how did you desire it should be made?

Gru. Marrie fir with needle and thred.

Tail. But did you not request to haue it cut ?

Gru. Thou haſt fac'd many things.

Tail. I haue.

Grum. Face not mee: thou haſt brau'd manie mea
braue not me; I will neither bee fac'd nor brau'd. I ſay
vnto thee, I bid thy Maſter cut out the gowne, but I did
not bid him cut it to peeces. Ergo thou liſt.

Tail. Why heere is the note of the ſashion to teſtify.

Pet. Reade it.

Gru. The note lies in's throate if he ſay I ſaid so.

Tail. Inprimis, a loose bodied gowne.

Grum. Maſter, if euer I ſaid loose-bodied gowne, ſow
me in the skirts of it, and beate me to death with a hot
tome of browne thred: I ſaid a gowne.

Pet. Proceed.

Tail. With a small compaſſ cap.

Grum. I confefſe the cap.

Tail. With a trunke ſleeue.

Gru. I confefſe two ſleeues.

Tail. The ſleeues curiously ſcut,

Pet. I there's the villanie.

Gru. Error i'th bill fir, error i'th bill ? I commanded
the ſleeues ſhould be cut out, and ſow'd vp againe, and
that I proue vpon thee, though thy little finger be ac-
med in a thimble.

Tail. This is true that I ſay, and I had thee in place
where thou shouldſt know it.

Gru. I am for thee ſtraight: take thou the bill, give
me thy meat-yard, and ſpare not me.

Hor. God-a-mercie Grumio, then hee ſhall haue no
oddes.

Pet. Well fir in breeſe the gowne is not for me.

Gru. You are i'th right fir, 'tis for my miſtris.

Pet. Go take it vp vnto thy maſters vſe.

Gru. Villaine, not for thy life: Take vp my Miſtreſſe
gowne for thy maſters vſe.

Pet. Why fir, what's your conceit in that?

Gru. Oh fir, the conceit is deeper then you think for:
Take vp my Miſtris gowne to his maſters vſe.

Oh ſie, ſie, ſie.

Pet. Hortenſo, ſay thou wilt ſee the Tailor paide:

Go take it hence, be gone, and ſay no more.

Hor. Tailor, Ile pay thee for thy gowne to morrow,
Take no vnkindneſſe of his haſtie words :

Away I ſay, commend me to thy maſter.

Exit Tail.

Pet. Well, come my Kate, we will vnto your fathers,
Euen in these honest meane habiliments :

Our purſes shall be proud, our garments poore :

For 'tis the minde that makes the bodie rich.

And as the Sunne breaks through the darkest clouds,
So honor peereth in the meaneſt habit.

What is the lay more precious then the Larke?

Because his feathers are more beautiſull.

Or is the Adder better then the Eele,

Because his painted skin contents the eye.

Oh no good Kate: neither art thou the worſe

For this poore furniture, and meane array.

If thou accounted it ſhame, lay it on me,

And therefore frolicke, we will hence forthwith,

To feaſt and ſport vs at thy fathers houſe,

Go call my men, and let vs ſtraight to him,

And bring our horſes vnto Long-lane end,

There wil we mount, and thither walke on foote,

Let's ſee, I thinke 'tis now ſome ſeuen a clocke,

And well we may come there by dinner time.

Kate. I dare affure you fir, 'tis almoſt two,
And 'twill be ſupper time ere you come there.

Pet. It ſhall be ſeuen ere I go to horſe:
Looke what I ſpeake, or do, or thinke to doe,

Yos

The Taming of the Shrew.

225

You are still croffing it, fir's let not alone,

I will not go to day, and ere I doe,

It shall be what a clock I say it is.

Her. Why so this gallant will command the funne.

Enter Tranio, and the Pedant dresst like Vincentio.

Tra. Sirs, this is the houfe, please it you that I call.

P. I what else, and but I be deceuied,

Signior Baptista may remember me.

Neere twentie yeares a goe in Genoa.

Tra. Where we were lodgers, at the Pegasus,

Tis well, and hold your owne in any cafe.

With such auferitie as longeth to a father.

Enter Biondello.

Pd. I warrant you : but fir here comes your boy,
T were good he were schoold.

Tra. Feare you not him: firra Biondello,

Now doe your dutie throughlie I aduife you :

Imagine 't were the right Vincentio.

Bion. Tut, feare not me.

Tra. But haft thou done thy errand to Baptista.

Bion. I told him that your father was at Venice,

And that you look't for him this day in Padua,

Tra. Th'art a tall fellow, hold thee that to drinke,

Here comes Baptista: see your countenance fir.

Enter Baptista and Lucentio: Pedant booted
and bare headed.

Tra. Signior Baptista you are happilie met :

Sir, this is the gentleman I told you of,

I pray you stand good father to me now,

Gue me Bianca for my patrimony.

Pd. Soft son: fir by your leaue, hauing com to Padua

To gather in some debts, my fon Lucentio

Made me acquainted with a waighty caufe

Of loue betweene your daughter and himselve :

And for the good report I heare of you,

And for the loue he beareth to your daughter,

And she to him: to stay him not too long,

I am content in a good fathers care

To haue him matcht, and if you pleafe to like

No worfe then I, vpon some agreement

Me shall you finde readie and willing

With one consent to haue her so beftowed :

For curious I cannot be with you

Signior Baptista, of whom I heare so well.

Bap. Sir, pardon me in what I haue to say,

Your plainneffe and your shortneffe please me well:

Right true it is your fonde Lucentio here

Doth loue my daughter, and she loueth him,

Or both diffemble deeplye their affections :

And therefore if you fay no more then this,

That like a Father you will deale with him,

And paffe my daughter a sufficient dower,

The match is made, and all is done,

Your fonde shall haue my daughter with confent.

Tra. I thanke you fir, where then doe you know beft

We be affied and such affurance tane,

As shall with either parts agreement stand.

Bap. Not in my house Lucentio, for you know

Pitchers haue eares, and I haue manie seruants,

Besides old Gremio is harking full,

And happilie we might be interrupted.

Tra. Then at my lodging, and it like you,

There doth my father lie: and there this night

Weele paffe the bufineſſe privately and well:

Send for your daughter by your ſeruant here,

My Boy shall fetch the Scriuener preſentlie,

The worſt is this that at ſo flender warning,

You are like to haue a thin and flender pittance.

Bap. It likes me well:

Cambio: hie you home, and bid Bianca make her readie
straight:

And if you will tell what hath hapned,

Lucentios Father is arriued in Padua,

And how ſhe's like to be Lucentios wife.

Biond. I prie the gods ſhe may withall my heart.

Tran. Dallie not with the gods, but get thee gone.

Enter Peter.

Signior Baptista, shall I leade the way,

Weicome, one meſſe is like to be your cheere,

Come fir, we will better it in Pifa.

Bap. I follow you.

Exit.

Exeunt.

Enter Lucentio and Biondello.

Bion. Cambio.

Luc. What faſt thou Biondello.

Biond. You ſaw my Maſter winke and laugh vpon
you?

Luc. Biondello, what of that?

Biond. Faith nothing : but has left mee here behinde
to expound the meaning or morall of his ſignes and to-
kens.

Luc. I pray thee moralize them.

Biond. Then thus: Baptista is ſafe talking with the
deceiving Father of a deceitfull ſonne.

Luc. And what of him?

Biond. His daughter is to be brought by you to the
fupper.

Luc. And then.

Bio. The old Prieft at Saint Lukes Church is at your
command at all hours.

Luc. And what of all this.

Bion. I cannot tell, expeſt they are buſed about a
counterfeit affurance: take you affurance of her, Cum
preuilegio ad Impremendum ſolem, to th' Church take the
Priefl, Clarke, and ſome ſufficient honest witneſſes:
If this be not that you looke for, I haue no more to ſay,

But bid Bianca farewell for euer and a day.

Luc. Hear't thou Biondello.

Biond. I cannot tarry: I knew a wench married in an
afternoone as ſhee went to the Garden for Parſeley to
ſtuffe a Rabit, and so may you fir: and so adew fir, my
Maſter hath appointed me to goe to Saint Lukes to bid
the Priefl be readie to come againſt you come with your
appendix.

Exit.

Luc. I may and will, if ſhe be so contented:

She will be pleas'd, then wherefore ſhould I doubt:

Hap what hap may, Ile roundly goe about her:

It shall goe hard if Cambio goe without her.

Exit.

Enter Petruchio, Kate, Hortentio

Petr. Come on a God's name, once more toward our
fathers:

Good Lord how bright and goodly ſhines the Moone.

Kate. The Moone, the Sunne: it is not Moonelight
now.

Petr. I ſay it is the Moone that ſhines so bright.

Kate. I know it is the Sunne that ſhines so bright.

Fet. Now by my mothers ſonne, and that's my ſelfe,
It

The Taming of the Shrew.

226

It shall be moone, or starre, or what I lift,
Or ere I journey to your Father's house:
Goe on, and fetch our horves backe againe,
Euermore croft and croft, nothing but croft.

Hort. Say as he faies, or we shall neuer goe.

Kate. Forward I pray, since we haue come to faire,
And be it moone, or funne, or what you pleafe:
And if you pleafe to call it a rush Candle,
Henceforth I vowe it shall be so for me.

Petr. I fay it is the Moone.

Kate. I know it is the Moone.

Petr. Nay thou you lye: it is the bleffed Sunne.

Kate. Then God be bleff, it in the bleffed fun,
But funne it is not, when you fay it is not.
And the Moone changes euen as your minde:
What you will haue it nam'd, euen tha't it is,
And so it shall be so for Katherine.

Hort. Petruchio, goe thy waies, the field is won.

Petr. Well, forward, forward, thus the bowle should
And not vnluckily againft the Bias:
But soft, Company is comming here.

Enter Vincentio.

Good morrow gentle Miftris, where away:
Tell me sweete Kate, and tell me truely too,
Haft thou beheld a freshher Gentlewoman :

Such warre of white and red within her checke:

What flars do I pangle heauen with such beautie,
As thofe two eyes become that heauenly face?

Faire louely Maide, once more good day to thee:

Sweete Kate embrace her for her beauties fake.

Hort. A will make the man mad to make the woman
of him.

Kate. Yong budding Virgin, faire, and fresh, & sweet,
Whether away, or whether is thy aboade?

Happy the Parents of so faire a childe;

Happier the man whom fauourable flars

A lots thee for his louely bedfellow.

Petr. Why how now Kate, I hope thou art not mad,
This is a man old, wrinkled, faded, withered,
And not a Maiden, as thou faift he is.

Kate. Pardon old father my miftaking eies,

That haue bin so bedazled with the funne,

That euery thing I looke on feemeth groene :

Now I pereciue thou art a reuerent Father :

Pardon I pray thee for my mad miftaking.

Petr. Do good old grandfire, & withall make known
Which way thou trauelleft, if along with vs,
We shall be ioyfull of thy companie.

Vin. Faire Sir, and you my merry Miftris,
That with your ftrange encounter much amafde me:
My name is call'd Vincentio, my dwelling Pisa,
And bound I am to Padua, there to vifite
A fonne of mine, which long I haue not feene.

Petr. What is his name?

Vinc. Lucentio gentle fir.

Petr. Happily met, the happier for thy fonne:
And now by Law, as well as reuerent age,
I may intitle thee my louing Father,

The fifter to my wife, this Gentlewoman,
Thy Sonne by this hath married: wonder not,
Nor be not grieeued, she is of good eſteeme,
Her dowrie wealthie, and of worthie birth;
Befide, to qualified, as may beſeeme

The Spouse of any noble Gentleman :

Let me imbrace with old Vincentio,

And wander we to fee thy honest fonne,
Who will of thy arriuall be full ioyous.

Vine. But is this true, or is it else your pleasure,
Like pleasant trauailors to breake a left
Vpon the companie you ouertake?

Hort. I doe affure thee father so it is.

Petr. Come goe along and fee the truth hereof,
For our first merriment hath made thee icalous. Exemt.

Hor. Well Petruchio, this has put me in heart;
Haue to my Widdow, and if the froward,
Then haft thou taught Hortentio to be vntoward. Exit.

Enter Biondello, Lucentio and Bianea, Gremio
is out before.

Biond. Softly and twifly fir, for the Prieft is ready.

Luc. I flie Biondello; but they may chance to neede
thee at home, therefore leaue vs. Exit.

Biond. Nay faith, Ile fee the Church a your backe,
and then come backe to my miftris as soone as I can.

Gre. I maruaille Cambio comes not all this while.

Enter Petruchio, Kate, Vincentio, Grumio
with Attendants.

Petr. Sir heres the doore, this is Lucentio house,
My Fathers beares more toward the Market-place,
Thither muft I, and here I leaue you fir.

Vin. You shall not choose but drinke before you go,
I thinke I shall command your welcome here;

And by all likelihood some cheere is toward. Knock.

Grem. They're bufie within, you were beft knocke
lowder.

Pedant looks out of the window.

Ped. What's he that knockes as he would beat downe
the gate?

Vin. Is Signior Lucentio within fir?

Ped. He's within fir, but not to be spoken withall.

Vin. What if a man bring him a hundred pound or
two to make merrie withall.

Ped. Keepe your hundred pounds to your selfe, hee
shall neede none so long as I live.

Petr. Nay, I told you your fonne was well beloved in
Padua: doe you heare fir, to leaue friuolous circumflan-
ces, I pray you tell Signior Lucentio that his Father is
come from Pisa, and is here at the doore to ſpeake with
him.

Ped. Thou lieſt his Father is come from Padua, and
here looking out at the window.

Vin. Art thou his father?

Ped. I fir, so his mother faies, if I may beleeue her.

Petr. Why how now gentleman: why this is flat kna-
uerie to take vpon you another mans name.

Peda. Lay hands on the villaine, I beleeue a meane
to cofen some bodie in this Citie vnder my countenance.

Enter Biondello.

Bio. I haue ſeene them in the Church together, God
ſend'em good ſhipping: but who is here? mine old Ma-
ſter Vincentio: now wee are vndone and brought to no-
thing.

Vin. Come hither crackhempe.

Bion. I hope I may choose Sir.

Vin. Come hither you rogue, what haue you for
mee?

Biond. Forgot you, no fir: I could not forget you, for
I neuer faw you before in all my life.

Vinc. What, you notorious villaine, didst thou neuer
fee thy Miftris father, Vincentio?

Bion. What

The Taming of the Shrew.

227

Bion. What my old worshipfull old master? yes
marie fir see where he lookes out of the window.

Vin. Ift so indeede. He beates Biondello.

Bion. Helpe, helpe, helpe, here's a mad man will mur-
der me.

Pedan. Helpe, fonne, helpe signior Baptista.

Petr. Pree the Kate let's stand aside and see the end of
this controuerſie.

Enter Pedant with ſeruants, Baptista, Tranio.

Tra. Sir, what are you that offer to beate my ſer-
uant?

V. What am I fir:nay what are you fir: oh immor-
tall Goddes : oh fine villaine, a ſilken doubtlet, a vel-
vet hofe, a ſcarlet cloake, and a copataine hat: oh I am
vdone, I am vdone: while I plaie the good husband
at home, my ſonne and my ſeruant ſpend all at the vi-
uerſitie.

Tra. How now, what's the matter?

Bapt. What is the man lunaticke?

Tra. Sir, you ſeeme a ſober ancient Gentleman by
your habit: but your words ſhew you a mad man: why
fir, what cernes it you, if I weare Pearle and gold: I thank
my good Father, I am able to maintaine it.

Vin. Thy father: oh villaine, he is a Saile-maker in
Bergamo.

Bap. You miſtake fir, you miſtake fir, prae what do
you thinke is his name?

Vin. His name, as if I knew not his name: I haue
brought him vp euer ſince he was three yeeres old, and
his name is Tronio.

Ped. Awaie, awaie mad aſſe, his name is Lucentio, and
he is mine onelie ſonne and heire to the Lands of me fig-
nior Vincentio.

Ven. Lucentio: oh he hath murdred his Maſter; laie
hold on him I charge you in the Dukes name: oh my
fonne, my ſonne: tell me thou villaine, where is my ſon
Lucentio?

Tra. Call forth an officer: Carrie this mad knaue to
the Jaile: father Baptista, I charge you ſee that hee be
forth comming.

Vinc. Carrie me to the Jaile?

Gre. Staie officer, he shall not go to prifon.

Bap. Talke not signior Gremio: I faie he ſhall goe to
prifon.

Gre. Take heede signior Baptista, leaſt you be coni-
catcht in this buſineſſe: I dare ſweare this is the right
Vincentio.

Ped. Sweare if thou darſt.

Gre. Naie, I dare not ſweare it.

Tran. Then thou wert beſt ſaie that I am not Lu-
centio.

Gre. Yes, I know thee to be signior Lucentio.

Bap. Awaie with the dotard, to the Jaile with him.
Enter Biondello, Lucentio and Biauen.

Vin. Thus ſtrangers may be haild and abuſd : oh mon-
frous villaine.

Bion. Oh we are ſpoil'd, and yonder he is, denie him,
for ſweare him, or else we are all vdone.

Exit Biondello, Tranio and Pedant as faſt as may be.

Luc. Pardon ſweete father. Kneele.

Vin. Lines my ſweete ſonne ?

Bian. Pardon deere father.

Bap. How haſt thou offended, where is Lucentio?

Luc. Here's Lucentio, right ſonne to the right Vin-
centio,

That haue by marriage made thy daughter mine,
While counterfeit ſuppofes bleer'd thine eine.

Gre. Here's packing with a witneſſe to deceiue vs all.

Vin. Where is that damned villaine Tranio,
That fac'd and braued me in this matter ſo?

Bryp. Why, tell me is not this my Cambio?

Bian. Cambio is chang'd into Lucentio.

Luc. Loue wrought theſe miracles. Biancas loue
Made me exchange my ſtate with Tranio,

While he did beare my countenance in the towne,
And happilie I haue arruied at the laſt

Vnto the wifhed hauen of my bliffe :

What Tranio did, my ſelfe enfort him to :

Then pardon him ſweete Father for my ſake.

Vin. Ile flit the villaines nose that would haue ſent
me to the ſaile.

Bap. But doe you heare fir, haue you married my
daughter without asking my good will?

Vin. Feare not Baptista, we will content you, goe to:
but I will in to be reveng'd for this villanie.

Bap. And I to found the depth of this knauerie.

Luc. Looke not pale Bianca, thy father will not frown.

Exeunt.

Gre. My cake is doug, but Ile in among the reſt,
Out of hope of all, but my ſhare of the ſaſt.

Kate. Husband let's follow, to ſee the end of this adoe.

Petr. Firſt kiffle me Kate, and we will.

Kate. What in the miſt of the ſtreete?

Petr. What art thou aſham'd of me ?

Kate. Mo fir, God forbid, but aſham'd to kiffle.

Petr. Why then let's home againe: Come Sirra let's
awaie.

Katg. Nay, I will giue thee a kiffle, now prae thee
Loue ſaie.

Petr. Is not this well? come my ſweete Kate.
Better once then neuer, for neuer to late.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus.

Enter Baptista, Vincentio, Gremio, the Pedant, Lucentio, and Bianca. Tranio, Biondello, Grumio, and Widdow:

The Seruingmen with Tranio bringing
in a Banquet.

Luc. At laſt, though long, our iatring notes agree,
And time it is when raging warre is come,

To ſmile at ſcapes and perls ouerblowne :

My faire Bianca bid my father welcome,

While I with ſelfe fame kindneſſe welcome thine:

Brother Petruchio, ſifter Katerina,

And thou Hortentio with thy louing Widdow:

Feaſt with the beſt, and welcome to my house,

My Panket is to cloſe our ſtomakes vp

After our great good cheere: prae you fit downe,
For now we fit to chat as well as eate.

Petr. Nothing but fit and fit, and eate and eate.

Bap. Padua affords this kindneſſe, ſonne Petruchio.

Petr. Padua affords nothing but what is kinde.

Hor. For both our fakes I would that word were true.

Pet. Now for my life Hortentio ſeares his Widow.

Wid. Then neuer tuſt me if I be aſſeared.

Petr. You are verie ſencible, and yet you miſſe my
ſence :

I meane Hortentio is aſeard of you.

Wid. He

The Taming of the Shrew.

228

Wid. He that is giddie thinks the world turns round.
Petr. Roundlie replied.
Kat. Miftris, how meane you that?
Wid. Thus I conceine by him.
Petr. Conceiués by me, how likes Hortentio that?
Hor. My Widdow faies, thus she conceues her tale.
Petr. Verie well mended: kiffe him for that good
Widdow.
Kat. He that is giddie thinkes the world turnes round,
I prie you tell me what you meant by that.
Wid. Your housband being troubled with a shrew,
Meaures my husbands forrow by his woe:
And now you know my meaning.
Kate. A verie meane meaning.
Wid. Right, I meane you.
Kat. And I am meane indeede, respecing you.
Petr. To her Kate.
Hor. To her Widdow.
Petr. A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down.
Hor. That's my office.
Petr. Spoke like an Officer: ha to the lad.
Drinkes to Hortentio.
Bap. How likes Gremio these quicke witted folkes?
Gre. Beleeue me fir, they But together well.
Bian. Head, and but an haultie witted bodie,
Would fay your Head and But were head and horne.
Vin. I Miftris Bride, hath that awakened you?
Bian. I, but not frighted me, therefore I meeve againe.
Petr. Nay that you shall not fince you haue begun:
Hae at you for a better ieft or too.
Bian. Am I your Bird, I meane to shift my buffe,
And then purfue me as you draw your Bow.
You are welcome all.
Exit Bianca.
Petr. She hath prevented me, here lignior Tranio,
This bird you ajm'd at, though you hit her not,
Therefore a health to all that shot and mift.
Tri. Oh fir, Lucentio flipt me like his Gray-hound,
Which runs himfelfe, and catches for his Mafter.
Petr. A good twift finile, but something curriff.
Tra. 'Tis well fir that you hunted for your felfe:
Tis thought your Deere does hold you at a baic.
Bap. Oh, oh Petruchio, Tranio hits you now.
Luc. I thanke thee for that gird good Tranio.
Hor. Confefle, confefle, hath he not hit you here?
Petr. A has a little gald me I confefle:
And as the Ieft did glaunce awaie from me,
'Tis ten to one it maim'd you too out right.
Bap. Now in good fadneſſe ſonne Petruchio,
I thinke thou haſt the verieſt shrew of all.
Petr. Well, I fay no: and therefore fir assurance,
Let's each one ſend vnto his wife,
And he whole wife is moſt obedient,
To come at firſt when he doth ſend for her,
Shall win the wager which we will propofe.
Hort. Content, what's the wager?
Luc. Twentie crownes.
Petr. Twentie crownes,
Ile venture ſo much of my Hawke or Hound,
But twentie times ſo much upon my Wife.
Luc. A hundred then,
Hor. Content.
Petr. A match, 'tis done.
Hor. Who shall begin?
Luc. That will I.
Goe Biondello, bid your Miftris come to me.

Bio. Igoe.
Bap. Sonne, Ile be your halfe Bianca comes.
Lue. Ile haue no halues: Ile beare it all my ſelfe,
Enter Biondello.
How now, what newes?
Bio. Sir, my Miftris ſends you word
That ſhe is bufie, and ſhe cannot come.
Petr. How? ſhe's bufie, and ſhe cannot come: is that
an anſwere?
Gre. I, and a kindne one too:
Praie God fir your wife ſend you not a worſe.
Petr. I hope better.
Hor. Sirra Biondello, goe and intreate my wife to
come to me forthwith.
Exit Biondello.
Pet. Oh ho, intreate her, nay then ſhee muſt needes
come.
Hor. I am affaide fir, doe what you can
Enter Biondello.
Yours will not be entreated: Now, where's my wife?
Bion. She faies you haue ſome goodly left in hand,
She will not come: ſhe bids you come to her.
Petr. Worſe and worſe, ſhe will not come:
Oh vilde, intollerable, not to be indur'd:
Sirra Grumio, goe to our Miftris,
Say I command her come to me.
Exit.
Hor. I know her anſwere.
Petr. What?
Hor. She will not.
Petr. The fouler fortune mine, and there an end.
Enter Katerina.
Bap. Now by my hollidam here comes Katerina.
Kat. What is your will fir, that you ſend for me?
Petr. Where is your fifter, and Hortensio wife?
Kate. They fit conferring by the Parler ſire.
Petr. Goe fetch them hither, if they denie to come,
Swinge me them foundly forth vnto their husbands:
Away I fay, and bring them hither ſtraight.
Lue. Here is a wonder, if you talke of a wonder.
Hor. And fo itis: I wonder what it boads.
Petr. Marrie peace it boads, and loue, and quiet life.
An awfull rule, and right tupremicie:
And to be ſhort, what nor, that's ſwecte and happier.
Bap. Now faire befall thee good Petruchio:
The wager thou haſt won, and I will adde
Vnto their loſſes twentie thouſand crownes,
Another dowrie to another daughter,
For ſhe is chang'd as ſhe had neuer bin.
Petr. Nay, I will win my wager better yet,
And show more ſigne of her obedience,
Her new built vertue and obedience.
Enter Kate, Bianca, and Widdow.
See where ſhe comes, and brings your froward Wines
As prisoners to her womauile perſuasion:
Katerine, that Cap of yours becomes you not,
Off with that bable, throw it under foote.
Wid. Lord let me neuer haue a cauſe to ſigh,
Till I be brought to ſuch a fillie paffe.
Bian. Fie what a fooliſh dutie call you this?
Luc. I would your dutie were as fooliſh too:
The wifdome of your dutie faite Bianca,
Hath coſt me ſuе hundred crownes ſince ſuppet times.
Bian. The more foole you for laying on my dutie.
Petr. Katherine I charge thee tell these head-strong
women, what dutie they doe owe their Lords and hu-
bands.
Wid. Come.

The Taming of the Shrew.

229

Wid. Come, come, your mocking: we will hauen o
telling.

Pet. Come on I say, and first begin with her.

Wid. She shall not.

Pet. I say she shall, and first begin with her.

Kate. Fie, fie, vnknit that thretaning vnkinde brow,
And dart not soornefull glances from those ies,
To wound thy Lord, thy King, thy Gouernour.
It blots thy beautie, as frosts doe bite the Meads,
Confounds thy fame, as whirlewinds shake faire budds,
And in no fence is meete or amiable.

A woman mou'd, is like a fountain troubled,
Muddie, ill seeming, thicke, bereft of beautie,
And while it is so, none so dry or thristie
Will daigne to sip, or touch one drop of it.
Thy husband is thy Lord, thy life, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy foueraigne: One that cares for thee,
And for thy maintenance. Commits his body

To painfull labour, both by fea and land:
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,

To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,
Whilft thou lyft warme at home, secure and safe,
And craues no other tribute at thy hands,
But loue, faire lookes, and true obedience;

Too little payment for so great a debt.

Such dutie as the subieſt owes the Prince,
Euen ſuch a woman oweth to her husband:

And when ſhe is froward, pecuifh, ſullen, ſowre,
And not obedient to his honeſt will,

What is ſhe but a foule contending Rebell,
And graceleſſe Traitor to her louing Lord?

I am a ſham'd that women are so ſimple,

To offer warre, where they ſhould kneele for peace:
Or feeke for rule, ſupremacie, and fway,

When they are bound to ſerue, loue, and obay.

Why are our bodies ſoft, and weake, and ſmooth,
Vnapt to toyle and trouble in the world,

But that our ſoft conditions, and our harts,

Should well agree with our externall parts ?

Come, come, you froward and vnable wormes,

My minde hath bin as bigge as one of yours,

My heart as great, my reafon haplie more,

To bandie word for word, and frowne for frowne;

But now I fee our Launcees are but ſtrawes:

Our ſtrength as weake, our weakenefle paſt compare,
That ſeeming to be moſt, which we indeed leaſt are.

Then vale your ſtomackes, for it is no boote,

And place your hands below your husbands foote:

In token of which dutie, if he pleafe,

My hand is readie, may it do him eafe.

Pet. Why there's a wench: Come on, and kiffe mee

Kate.

Luc. Well go thy waies olde Lad for thou ſhalt haſt.

Vin. Tis a good hearing, when children are toward.

Luc. But a harſh hearing, when women are froward,

Pet. Come Kate, weee'le to bed,

We three are married, but you two are ſped.

'Twas I wonne the wager, though you hit the white,
And being a winner, God giue you good night.

Exit Petruchio

Horten. Now geeth thy wayes, thou haſt tam'd a curſt
Shrow.

Luc. Tis a wonder, by your leaue, ſhe wil be tam'd so.

FINIS.

V

230

ALL'S
Well, that Ends Well.

Actus primus. Scæna Prima.

Enter young Bertrams Count of Rofffillion, his Mother, and
Helena, Lord Lafew, all in blacke.

Mother.

N delivering my sonne from me, I burie a second husband.

Laf. And I in going Madam, weep ore my
fathers death anew; but I must attend his mai-
fties command, to whom I am now in Ward, euermore
in subjection.

Laf. You shall find of the King a husband Madame,
you fir a father. He that so generally is at all times good,
muft of necessitie hold his vertue to you, whose worthi-
neffe would firre it vp where it wanted rather then lack
it where there is such abundance.

Mo. What hope is there of his Maiesties amendment?

Laf. He hath abandon'd his Ploifitions Madam, vn-
der whose præfites he hath perſecuted time with hope,
and finds no other aduantage in the proceſſe, but only
the loofing of hope by time.

Mo. This yong Gentlewoman had a father, O that
had, how ſad a paffage tis, whose skill was almoſt as
great as his honestie, had it ſtretch'd ſo far, would haue
made nature immortal, and death ſhould haue play for
lacke of worke. Would for the Kings ſake hee were li-
uing, I thinke it would be the death of the Kings diſeafe.

Laf. How call'd you the man you ſpeake of Madam?

Mo. He was famous fir in his p[ro]ſeffion, and it was
his great right to be ſo: Gerard de Narbon.

Laf. He was excellent indeed Madam, the King very
latelie ſpoke of him admiringly, and mourningly: hee
was skilfull enough to have hied it, if knowledge could
be ſet vp againſt mortallitie.

Rof. What is it (my good Lord) the King languifhes
of?

Laf. A Fiftula my Lord.

Rof I heard not of it before.

Laf. I would it were not notorious. Was this Gen-
dewoman the Daughter of Gerard de Narbon ?

Mo. His ſole childe my Lord, and bequeathed to my
ouer looking. I haue ſhove hopes of her good, that her
education promifes her diſpositions ſhee inherits, which
makes faire gifts fairer: for where an vncleane mind car-
ries vertuous qualitie, there commendations go with
pitty, they are vertues and traitors too: in her they are
the better for their ſimplenesſe; the deriues her honestie,

and atcheeues her goodneſſe.

Lafew. Your commendations Madam get from her
teares.

Mo. Tis the beſt brine a Maiden can feafon her prouſe
in. The remembrance of her father neuer approches her
heart, but the tirrany of her forrowes takes all liueliuſh
from her cheeke. No more of this Helena, go too, no
more leaſt it be rather thought you affect a forrow, then
to haue—

Hell. I doe affect a forrow indeed, but I haue it too.

Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead,
excelliue greeſe the enemie to the liuing.

Mo. If the liuing be enemie to the greeſe, the excelle
makes it ſone mortall.

Rof. Maddam I defire your holic wishes.

Laf. How vnderstand we that?

Mo. Be thou bleſſe Bertrame, and ſucceed thy fatiſt
in manners as in ſhape: thy blood and vertue
Contend for Empire in thee, and thy goodneſſe
Share with thy birth-right. Loue all, truſt a ſew,
Doe wrong to none: be able for thine enemie
Rather in power then vſe: and keepe thy friend
Vnder thy owne lifes key. Be checkt for ſilence,
But neuer tax'd for ſpeech. What heauen more wil,
That thee may furniſh, and my prayers plucke downe,
Fall on thy head. Farwell my Lord,
Tis an vnſeafon'd Courtier, good my Lord
Aduife him.

Laf. He cannot want the beſt
That ſhall attend his loue.

Mo. Heauen bleſſe him: Farwell Bertram.

Rof. The beſt wishes that can be forſd in your thoughts
be ſeruants to you: be comfortable to my mother, your
Miftris, and make much of her.

Laf. Farewell prettie Lady, you muſt hold the cre-
dit of your father.

Hell. O were that all, I thinke not on my father,
And these great teares grace his remembrance more
Then that I ſhed for him. What was he like?

I haue ſorgott him. My imagination
Carries no fauour in't but Bertrams.
I am vndone, there is no liuing, none,
If Bertram be away. 'Twere all one,
That I should loue a bright particular ſtarre,
And think to wed it, he is ſo aboue me
In his bright radience and colaterall light,

Mull

All's Well, that Ends Well.

231

Must I be comforted, not in his sphere;
Th'ambition in my loue thus plagues it selfe:
The hind that would be mated by the Lion
Must die for loue. 'Twas pretty, though a plague
To see him cuerie houre to fit and draw
His arched browes, his hawking eie, his curles
In our hearts table: heart too capable
Of cuerie line and tricke of his sweet faount.
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancie
Must fanctifie his Reliques. Who comes here?

Enter Parrolles.

One that goes with him: I loue him for his fake,
And yet I know him a notorious Liar,
Thinke him a great way foolie, folie a coward,
Yet these fixt eulis fit to fit in him,
That they take place, when Vertues steely bones
Lookes bleake i'th' cold wind: withall, full ofte we see
Cold wifedome weighting on superfluous follice.

Par. Saue you faire Queene.

Hel. And you Monarch.

Par. No.

Hel. And no.

Par. Are you meditating on virginitie?

Hel. I' you haue some staine of fouldier in you: Let mee aske you a quention. Man is enemie to virginitie, how may we barracado it againft him?

Par. Keepe him out.

Hel. But he affailes, and our virginitie though valiant, in the defence yet is weak: vnfold to vs some warlike refistance.

Par. There is none: Man fetting downe before you, will vndermine you, and blow you vp.

Hel. Bleſſe our poore Virginity from vnderminers and blowers vp. Is there no Military policy how Virgins might blow vp men?

Par. Virginity beeing blowne downe, Man will quicklier be blowne vp: marry in blowing him downe againe, with the breach your felues made, you loſe your City. It is not politieke, in the Common-wealth of Nature, to preferue virginity. Loſſe of Virginitie, is rationall encreafe, and there was neuer Virgin goſt, till virginitie was firſt loft. That you were made of, is mettall to make Virgins. Virginitie, by beeing once loft, may be ten times found: by being euer kept, it is euer loft: 'tis too cold a companion: Away with't.

Hel. I will ſtand for't a little, though therefore I die a Virgin.

Par. There's little can bee faide in't, 'tis againſt the rule of Nature. To speake on the part of virginity, is to accue your Mothers; which is moſt infallible difobedience. He that hangs himſelfe is a Virgin: Virginitie murthers it ſelſe, and ſhould be buried in highwayes out of all fanctified limit, as a deſperate Offendreſſe againſt Nature. Virginitie breeds mites, much like a Cheeſe, consumes it ſelſe to the very payring, and ſo dies with feeding his owne ſtomacke. Besides, Virginitie is peeuſh, proud, ydle, made of ſelſe-loue, which is the moſt inhibited ſinne in the Cannon. Keepe it not, you cannot choose but loſſe by't. Out with't: within ten yeare it will make it ſelſe two, which is a goodly increase, and the principall it ſelſe not much the worſe. Away with't.

Hel. How might one do fir, to looke it to her owne liking?

Par. Let mee ſee. Marry ill, to like him that ne're it likes. 'Tis a commodity wil loſe the gloſſe with lying: The longer kept, the leſſe worth: Off with't while 'tis vendible. Anſwer the time of requeſt, Virginitie like an olde Courtier, weares her cap out of fashion, richly ſuted, but vnſuteable, iuſt like the brooch & the toothpick, which were not now: your Date is better in your Pye and your Porredge, then in your cheeke: and your virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French wither'd peares, it lookes ill, it eates drily, marry 'tis a wither'd peare: it was formerly better, marry yet 'tis a wither'd peare: Will you any thing with it?

Hel. Not my virginity yet.

There ſhall your Matter haue a thousand loues,
A Mother, and a Miftreſſe, and a friend,
A Phenix, Captaine, and an enemy,
A guide, a Goddeſſe, and a Soueraigne,
A Counſellor, a Traitorſſe, and a Deare:
His humble ambition, proud humilitie:
His iarring, concord: and his diſcord, dulcet:
His faith, his sweet diſafter: with a world
Of pretty fond adoptious chriſtendomes
That blinking Cupid goſſips. Now ſhall he:
I know not what he ſhall, God ſend him well,
The Courts a learning place, and he is one.

Par. What if faith?

Hel. That I wifh well, 'tis pitty.

Par. What's pitty?

Hel. That wifhing well had not a body in't,
Which might be felt, that we the poorer borne,
Whose baſer ſtarres do flut vs vp in wishes,
Might vwith effects of them follow our friends,
And shew what we alone muſt thinke, which neuer
Returnes vs thanks.

Enter Page.

Pag. Monſieur Parrolles,

My Lord cals for you.

Par. Little Hellen farewell, if I can remember thee, I will thinke of thee at Court.

Hel. Monſieur Parrolles, you were borne vnder a charitable ſtarre.

Par. Vnder Mars I.

Hel. I eſpecially thinke, vnder Mars.

Par. Why vnder Mars?

Hel. The warres hath ſo kept you vnder, that you muſt needes be borne vnder Mars.

Par. When he was predominant,

Hel. When he was retrograde I thinke rather.

Par. Why thinke you so?

Hel. You go ſo much backward when you fight.

Par. That's for aduantage.

Hel. So is running away,

When feare propoſes the ſafetie:

But the composition that your valour and ſeare makes in you, is a verue of a good wing, and I like the weare well.

Farewell. I am ſo full of buſinſes, I cannot anſwere thee acutely: I will returne perfect Courtier, in the which my inſtruction ſhall ferue to naturalize thee, ſo thou wilt be capable of a Courtiers councell, and vnderſtand what aduice ſhall thrust vppon thee, eſſe thou dieſt in thine vnthankſulnes, and thine ignorance makes thee away, farewell: When thou haſt leyſure, ſay thy priaiers: when thou haſt none, remember thy Friends:

V 2

Get

The Life of King Henry the Eight.

211

I am beholding to you : cheere your neighbours :
Ladies you are not merry ; Gentlemen,
Whose fault is this?

Sam. The red wine sift must rile

In their faire cheekes my Lord, then wee shall haue 'em,
Talke vs to silence.

An. B. You are a merry Gambler

My Lord Sands.

Sam. Yes, if I make my play.

Heer's to your Ladiship, and pledge it Madam:
For is to such a thing.

An. B. You cannot shew me.

Drum and Trumpet, Chambers discharged.

Sam. I told your Grace, they would talke anon.

Card. What's that?

Cham. Locke out there, some of ye.

Card. What warlike voyce,

And to what end is this? Nay, Ladies, feare not;
By all the lawes of Warre y'are priuileg'd.

Enter a Servant.

Cham. How now, what is't?

Sor. A noble troupe of Strangers,

For so they seeme; th'haue left their Barge and landed,
And hither make, as great Embassadors
From forraigne Princes.

Card. Good Lord Chamberlaine,

Go, giue 'em welcome; you can speake the French tongue
And pray receiue 'em Nobly, and conduct 'em
Into our prefence, where this heauen of beauty
Shall fhine at full vpon them. Some attend him.

All rife, and Tables remo'd.

You haue now a broken Banket, but wee'l mend it.

A good digestion to you all; and once more

I showre a welcome on yee : welcome all.

Hoboyes. Enter King and others as Maskers, habited like
Shepbeards, vsber'd by the Lord Chamberlaine. They
paſſe directly before the Cardinall, and gracefully faſ-
lute him.

A noble Company : what are their pleafures?

Cham. Because they speak no English, thus they praid
To tell your Grace : That hauing heard by fame
Of this so Noble and so faire Assembly,

This night to meet here they could doe no leſſe,
(Out of the great reſpect they beare to beauty)
But leaue their Flockes, and vnder your faire Conduct
Craue leaue to view theſe Ladies, and entreat
An hour of Reuels with 'em.

Card. Say, Lord Chamberlaine,

They haue done my poore houſe grace:
For which I pay 'em a thousand thankes,
And pray 'em take their pleafures.

Choose Ladies, King and An Bullen.

King. The faireſt hand I euer touch'd: O Beauty,
Till now I neuer knew thee.

Muficke, Dance.

Card. My Lord.

Cham. Your Grace.

Card. Pray tell 'em thus much from me:
There should be one amongst 'em by his perſon
More worthy this place then my ſelfe, to whom
(If I but knew him) with my loue and duty
I would foruender it.

Whisper.

Cham. I will my Lord.

Card. What ſay they ?

Cham. Such a one, they all confefſe

There is indeed, which they would haue your Grace
Find out, and he will take it.

Card. Let me ſee then,

By all your good leaues Gentlemen; heere Ile make
My roiall choyce.

Kin. Ye haue found him Cardinall,

You hold a faire Assembly; you doe well Lord:

You are a Churchman, or Ile tell you Cardinall,
I should iudge now vnhappily.

Card. I am glad

Your Grace is growne so pleasant.

Kin. My Lord Chamberlaine,

Prethee come hither, what faire Lady's that?

Cham. An't pleafe your Grace,

Sir Thomas Bullens Daughter, the Viscount Rochford,
One of her Highneſſe women.

Kin. By Heauen ſhe is a dainty one. Sweet heart,
I were vnmannerly to take you out,

And not to kiffe you. A health Gentlemen,

Let it goe round.

Card. Sir Thomas Loſſell, is the Banket ready

I'ch' Priuy Chamber ?

Loſſ, Yes, my Lord.

Card. Your Grace

I feare, with dancing is a little heated.

Kin. I feare too much.

Card. There's freſher ayre my Lord,
In the next Chamber.

Kin. Lead in your Ladies eu'ry one : Sweet Partner,
I muſt not yet forſake you : Let's be merry,

Good my Lord Cardinall : I haue halſe a dozen healths,

To drinke to theſe faire Ladies, and a meaſure

To lead 'em once againe, and then let's dreame

Who's beſt in ſaunor. Let the Muſicke knock it.

Excunt with Trumpets.

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter two Gentlemen at feuerall Doores.

1. Whether away so faſt?

2. O, God faſe ye :

Eu'n to the Hall, to heare what ſhall become
Of the great Duke of Buckingham,

1. Ile faſe you

That labour Sir. All's now done but the Ceremony
Of bringing backe the Priſoner,

2. Were you there ?

1. Yes indeed was I.

2. Pray ſpeake what ha's happen'd.

1. You may gueſſe quickly what.

2. Is he found guilty ?

1. Yes trucely is he,

And condemn'd vpon't.

2. I am ſorry for't,

1. So are a number more.

2. But pray how paſt it ?

1. Ile tell you in a little. The great Duke
Came to the Bar; where, to his accufations
He pleaded ſtill not guilty, and allearged
Many ſharpe reaſons to defeat the Law.
The Kings Atturney on the contrary,
Vrg'd on the Examinations, proofes, confefſone

Of

212

Of diuers witneſſes, which the Duke deſir'd
To him brought *vina voce* to his face;

At which appear'd againſt him, his Surueyor
Sir Gilbert Peckg his Chancellor, and John Car,
Conſelor to him, with that Diuell Monke,
Hopkins, that made this miſchieſe.

2. That was hee
That fed him with his Prophecies.

1. The fame,

All theſe accus'd him ſtrongly, which he ſaine
Would haue ſlung from him; but indeed he couldnot;
And ſo his Peeres vpon this evidence,
Haue found him guilty of high Treafon. Much
He ſpoke, and learnedly for life: But all
Was either pittied in him, or ſorgotten.

2. After all this, how did he beare himſelfe ?

1. When he was brought agen to th' Bar, to heare
His Knell rung out, his Iudgement, he was ſir'd
With ſuch an Agony, he ſweat extreamly,
And ſomthing ſpoke in choller, ill, and haſtly:
But he fell to himſelfe againe, and ſweetly,
In all the reſt ſhew'd a moſt Noble patience.

2. I do not thinke he ſeates death.

1. Sure he does not,

He neuer was so womaniſh, the cauſe

He may a little griue at:

2. Certainly,

The Cardinall is the end of this,

1. Tis likely,

By all coniectures: Firſt *Kildares* Attendure;
Then Deputy of Ireland, who remou'd
Earle *Surrey*, was ſent thither, and in haſt too,
Leaſt he ſhould helpe his Father.

2. That tricke of State

Was a deepe enuious one,

1. At his returne,

No doubt he will requite it; this is noted
(And generally) who euer the King fauours,
The Cardnall iſtantly will finde employment,
And farre enough from Court too.

2. All the Commons

Hate him perniciously, and o' my Conſcience
Wifh him ten faddon deepe: This Duke as much
They loue and doate on: call him bounteous *Buckingham*,
The Mirror of all courteſe.

Enter Buckingham from his Arraignment, Tipſtanes before him, the Axe with the edge towards him, Halberds on each side, accompanied with Sir Thomas Louell, Sir Nicholas Vaux, Sir Walter Sands, and common people, &c.

1. Stay there Sir,

And ſee the noble ruin'd man you ſpeake of.

2. Let's ſtand close and behold him.

Buck, All good people,

You that thus farre haue come to pitty me;
Heare what I ſay, and then goe home and loſe me,
I haue this day receiu'd a Traitors iudgement,
And by that name muſt dye; yet Heauen beare witnes,
And if I haue a Conſcience, let it ſincke me,
Euen as the Axe falls, if I be not faithfull.

The Law I beare no mallice for my death,
That has done vpon the premiſes, but Iuſtice:
But thoſe that fought it, I could wifh more Chriſtians:
(Be what they will) I heartily forgiue 'em;
Yet let 'em looke they glory not in miſchieſe;

Nor build their cuils on the graues of great men;
For then, my guileſſe blood muſt cry againſt 'em.
For further life in this world I ne're hope,
Nor will I ſue, although the King haue mercies
More then I dare make faults.

You few that lou'd me,
And dare be bold to weepe for *Buckingham*,
His Noble Friends and Fellowes; whom to leaue
Is only bitter to him, only dying:

Goe with me like good Angels to my end,
And as the long diuorce of Steele faſ on me,
Make of your Prayers one ſweet ſacrifice,
And lift my Soule to Heauen.

Lead on a God's name.

Louell. I doe beſeech your Grace, for chatiety
If euer any malice in your heart

Were hid againſt me, now to forgiue me frankly.

Buck, Sir Thomas Louell, I as free forgiue you
As I would be forgiuen: I forgiue all.

There cannot be thoſe numberleſſe offences
Gainſt me, that I cannot take peace with:
No blacke Enuy ſhall make my Graue,
Commend mee to his Grace:

And if he ſpeake of *Buckingham*; pray tell him,
You met him halſe in Heauen: my vows and prayers
Yet are the Kings; and till my Soule forſake,
Shall cry for bleſſings on him. May he liue
Longer then I haue time to tell his yeares;
Euer belou'd and louing, may his Rule be;
And when old Time ſhall lead him to his end,
Goodneſſe and he, ſell vp one Monument.

Lou. To th' water ſide I muſt conduct your Grace;
Then giue my Charge vp to Sir *Nicholas Vaux*,
Who vndertakes you to your end.

Vaux. Prepare there,
The Duke is comming: See the Barge be ready;
And fit it with ſuch furniture as ſuites

The Greatneſſe of his Perſon,

Buck, Nay, Sir Nicholas,
Let it alone; my State now will but mocke me.
When I came hither, I was Lord High Conſtable,
And Duke of *Buckingham*: now poore Edward Belair,
Yet I am richer then my bafe Accufers,
That neuer knew what Truth meant: I now ſealeit;
And with that bloud will make 'em one day groane for
My noble Father *Henry of Buckingham*,
Who firſt rais'd head againſt Vlurping Richard,
Flying for ſuccour to his Seruant Banifter,
Being diſtref't; was by that wretch betraid,
And without Tryall, ſell; Gods peace be with him,
Henry the Seanenth ſucceeding, truly pittying
My Fathers loffe; like a moſt Royall Prince
Reſſor'd me to my Honours: and out of ruines
Made my Name once more Noble. Now his Sonne,
*Henry the Eight*, Life, Honour, Name and all
That made me happy; at one ſtroke ha's taken
For euer from the World. I had my Tryall,
And muſt needs ſay a Noble one; which makes me
A little happier then my wretched Father:
Yet thus farre we are one in Fortunes: both
Fell by our Seruants, by thoſe Men we lou'd moſt:
A moſt vnnaurall and faithleſſe Service.
Heauen ha's an end in all: yet, you that heare me,
This from a dying man receiue as certaine:
Where you are liberall of your Loues and Counsels,
Be ſure you be not loose; for thoſe you make friends,

213

And give your hearts to; when they once perceiue
The least rub in your fortunes, fall away

Like water from ye, neuer found againe

But where they meane to sinke ye: all good people
Pray for me, I muft now forsake ye; the last houre
Of my long weary life is come vpon me:

Farewell; and when you would say something that is sad,
Speake how I fell.

I have done; and God forgive me.

Exeunt Duke and Traine.

1. O, this is full of pity; Sir, it calls
I feare, too many curfes on their heads
That were the Authors.

2. If the Duke be guiltlesse,
'Tis full of woe: yet I can give you ingling
Of an ensuing ill, if it fall,
Greater then this.

1. Good Angels keepe it from vs:

What may it be? you do not doubt my faith Sir?

2. This Secret is so weighty, 'twill require
A strong faith to conceale it.

1: Let me haue it:
I do not talke much.

2. I am confident;
You shall Sir: Did you not of late dayes heare
A buzzing of a Separation

Betweene the King and Katherine?

1. Yes, but it held not;

For when the King once heard it, out of anger
He sent command to the Lord Mayor straight

To stop the rumor; and allay those tongues
That durst disperfe it.

2. But that flander Sir,
Is found a truth now: for it growes agen
Fresher then e're it was; and held for certaine
The King will venture at it. Either the Cardinall,
Or some about him neere, haue out of malice
To the good Queene, posseft him with a icruple

That will vndoe her: To confirme this too,
Cardinall Campeius is arriu'd, and lately,
As all thinke for this busines.

1. Tis the Cardinall;
And merely to reuenge him on the Emperour,
For not beſtowing on him at his asking,
The Archbifhopricke of Toledo, this is purpos'd.

2. I thinke

You haue hit the marke; but is not cruell,
That he should feele the Smart of this : the Cardinal
Will haue his will, and the muft fall.

1. 'Tis wofull.

Wee are too open heere to argue this:

Let's thinke in priuate more.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Lord Chamberlaine, reading this Letter.

M
or Lord, the Horses your Lordship sent for, with all the
care I had, I saw well chosen, ridden, and furnished.
They were young and handsome, and of the best breed in the
North. When they were ready to set out for London, a man
of my Lord Cardinall's by Commission, and maine power tooke
from me, with this reason: his maister would bee seru'd be-

fore a Subieſt, if not before the King, which stopp'd our mouthes
Sir.

I feare he will indeede; well, let him haue them; hee
will haue all I thinke.

Enter to the Lord Chamberlaine, the Dukes of Nor-
folke and Suffolk.

Norf. Well met my Lord Chamberlaine.

Cham. Good day to both your Graces.

Suff. How is the King imployed?

Cham. I left him priuate,

Full of lad thoughts and troubles.

Norf. What's the caufe?

Cham. It feemes the Marriage with his Brothers Wife
Ha's crept too neere his Conſcience.

Suff. No, his Conſcience
Ha's crept too neere another Ladie.

Norf. Tis for:

This is the Cardinals doing : The King-Cardinall,

That blinde Prief, like the eldest Sonne of Fortune,

Turnes what he lift. The King will know him one day.

Suff. Pray God he doe,

Heel' neuer know himſelfe else.

Norf. How holily he workes in all his buſinesſe,
And with what zeale? For now he has crackt the League
Between vs & the Emperor (the Queens great Nephew)

He diues into the Kings Soule, and there ſcatners

Dangers, doubts, wringing of the Conſcience,

Feares, and defpaires, and all theſe for his Marriage.

And out of all theſe, to restore the King,

He counſels a Diuorce, a loffe of her

That like a Iewell, ha's hung twenty years

About his necke, yet neuer loft her luſtref;

Of her that loues him with that excellence,

That Angels loue good men with: Euen of her,

That when the greatest fltoake of Fortune falls

Will bleſſe the King : and is not this course pious ?

Cham. Heauen keep me from ſuch counsel: tis me ſt true
Theſe newes are euery where, euery tongue ſpeaks 'em,

And euery true heart weepes for't. All that daie

Looke into theſe affaires, fee this maine end,

The French Kings Sifter. Heauen will one day open

The Kings eyes, that ſo long haue flept vpon

This bold bad man.

Suff. And free vs from his ſlauery.

Norf. We had need pray,

And heartily, for our deliuerance;

Or this imperious man will worke vs all

From Princes into Pages: all mens honours

Lie like one lumpe before him, to be fashion'd

Into what pitch he pleafe.

Suff. For me, my Lords,
I loue him not, nor feare him, there's my Creede:

As I am made without him, so Ile stand,

If the King pleafe : his Curiſes and his bleſſings

Touch me alike: th'are breath I not beleene in.

I knew him, and I know him: ſo I leaue him

To him that made him proud; the Pope.

Norf. Let's in;

And with ſome other buſines, put the King

From theſe lad thoughts, that work too much vpon him:

My Lord, youle beare vs company?

Cham. Excuse me,

The King ha's ſent me otherwhere: Besides

You'll finde a moft vnſit time to disturbe him:

Health to your Lordships.

Nor.

214

Norfolke. Thanks my good Lord Chamberlaine.
Exit Lord Chamberlaine, and the King draws the Curtain
and fits reading pensively.

Suff. How sad he looks; lure he is much afflicted.

Kin. Who's there? Ha?

Norff. Pray God he be not angry. (felues

Kin. Who's there I lay? How dare you thrust your
Into my priuate Meditations?

Who am I? Ha?

Norff. A gracious King, that pardons all offences
Malice ne're meant: Our breach of Duty this way,
Is businesse of Eftate; in which, we come

To know your Roy all pleasure.

Kin. Ye are too bold:

Go too; Ile make ye know your times of businesse:
Is this an howre for temporall affaires? Ha?

Enter W olfey and Campeius with a Commission.
Who's there? my good Lord Cardinall? O my W olfey,
The quiet of my wounded Conscience;
Thou art a cure fit for a King; you'r welcome
Most learned Reuerend Sir, into our Kingdome,
Vfe vs, and it: My good Lord, haue great care,
I be not found a Talker.

Wol. Sir, you cannot;
I would your Grace would giue vs but an houre
Of priuiate conference.
Kin. We are busy'd goe.
Norff. This Prieft ha's no pride in him?
Suff. Not to speake of:
I would not be so fique though for his place;
But this cannot continue.
Norff. If it doe, Ile venture one; haue at him.
Suff. I another.

Kin. We are busy'd goe.

Suff. Not to speake of:

Suff. I another.

Exeunt Norfolke and Suffolke.

Wol. Your Grace ha's giuen a President of wifedome
Aboue all Princes, in committing freely
Your fruple to the voyce of Chriftendome:
Who can be angry now? What Enuy reach you?

The Spaniard tide by blood and fauour to her,
Muff now confesse, if they haue any goodneſſe,
The Tryall, iuſt and Noble. All the Clerkes,
(I meane the learned ones in Chriſtian Kingdomes)
Haue their free voyces. Rome (the Nurfe of Iudgement)
Inuiced by your Noble ſelfe, hath ſent

One generall Tongue vnto vs. This good man,
This iuſt and learned Prieft, Cardnall Campeius,
Whom once more, I prefent vnto your Highneſſe.

The Tryall, iuſt and Noble. All the Clerkes,
( I meane the learned ones in Chriſtian Kingdomes)
Haue their free voyces. Rome (the Nurfe of Iudgement)
Inuiced by your Noble ſelfe, hath ſent
One generall Tongue vnto vs. This good man,
This iuſt and learned Prieft, Cardnall Campeius,
Whom once more, I prefent vnto your Highneſſe.

One generall Tongue vnto vs. This good man,
This iuſt and learned Prieft, Cardnall Campeius,
Whom once more, I prefent vnto your Highneſſe.
Kin. And once more in mine armes I bid him welcome,
And thanke the holy Conclaue for their loues,
They haue ſent me ſuch a Man, I would haue wif'd for.
Kin. Your Grace muſt needs deferue all ſtrangers loues,
You are so Noble: To your Highneſſe hand
I tender my Commiffion; by whose vertue,
The Court of Rome commanding. You my Lord
Cardinall of Torke, are ioyn'd with me their Seruant,
In the vnpartiall iudging of this Businesſe.

Kin. Two equall men: The Queene shall be acquain-
Forthwith for what you come. Where's Gardiner?

Wol. I know your Maiety, ha's alwayes lou'd her
So deare in heart, not to deny her that
A Woman of ſelfe Place might aske by Law;
Schollers allow'd freely to argue for her.

Kin. I, and the beſt ſhe shall haue; and my fauour
To him that does beſt, God forbid els: Cardinall,
Prethee call Gardiner to me, my new Secretary.

If him a fit fellow.

Enter Gardiner.

Wol. Giue me your hand: much ioy & fauour to you;
You are the Kings now.

Gard. But to be commanded

For euer by your Grace, whoſe hand ha's rais'd me,
Kin. Come hither Gardiner.

Walkes and whispers.

Camp. My Lord of Torke, was not one Doctor Far
In this mans place before him?

Wol. Yes, he was.

Camp. Was he not held a learned man?

Wol. Yes, surely.

Camp. Beleeue me, there's an ill opinion spread then,
Euen of your ſelfe Lord Cardinall.

Wol. How? of me?

Camp. They will not fique to ſay, you enuide him;
And fearing he would rife (he was so vertuous)
Kept him a forraigne man ſtill, which ſo green'd him,
That he ran mad, and dide.

Wol. Heau'ns peace be with him:

That's Christian care enough for liuing Murmurers,
There's places of rebuke. He was a Foole;
For he would needs be vertuous. That good Fellow,
If I command him followes my appointment,

If I command him followes my appointment,
I will haue none ſo neere els. Learne this Brother,
We liue not to be grip'd by meaner persons.

Kin. Deliuer this with modety to th' Queene.

The moſt convenient place, that I can thinke of
For ſuch receipt of Learning, is Black-Fryers:
There ye ſhall meete about this waityg busines.
My W olfey, ſee it furniſh'd, O my Lord,
Would it not grieue an able man to leafe

There ye ſhall meete about this waityg busines.
My W olfey, ſee it furniſh'd, O my Lord,
Would it not grieue an able man to leafe
So I ſwee't a Bedfellow? But Conſciencie,
O 'tis a tender place, and I muſt leaue her.

Exeunt Gardiner.
O 'tis a tender place, and I muſt leaue her. Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady.

An. Not for that neither; here's the pang that pinches
His Highneſſe, having liu'd so long with her, and ſhe
So good a Lady, that no Tongue could euer
Pronounce diſhonour of her; by my life,
She neuer knew harme-doing: Oh, now after

So many courtes of the Sun enthroan'd,
Still growing in a Maiety and pompe, the which
To leaue, a thouſand fold more bitter, then
'Tis sweet a first t'acquire. After this Proceſſe.

To giue her the auaut, it is a pitty
Would moue a Monster.

Old La. Hearts of moſt hard temper

Melt and lament for her.

An. Oh Gods will, much better
She ne're had knowne pompe; though't be temporall,
Yet if that quarrell, Fortune, do diuorce
It from the bearer, 'tis a ſufferance, panging
As foule and bodies ſeuering.

Old L. Alas poore Lady,
Shee's a ſtranger now againe.

An. So much the more

Muſt pitcy drop vpon her; verily
I ſweare, tis better to be lowly borne,

215

And range with humble liuers in Content,
Then to be perk'd vp in a gliftring griefe,
And weare a golden forrow.

Old L. Our content

Is our best hauing.

Anne. By my troth, and Maidenhead,
I would not be a Queene.

Old L. Behrew me, I would,
And venture Maidenhead for't, and to would you
For all this (spice of your Hipocrisie)

You that haue so faire parts of Woman on you,
Hauë (too) a Womans heart, which euer yet
Affected En science, Wealth, Soucraigncy;
Which, to say foot, are Blesſings; and which guifes
(Saying your mining) the capacity
Of your toſt Chinnerell Conſcience, would receiue,
If you might please to stretch it.

Anne. Nay, good troth.

Old L. Yes troth, & troth; you would not be a Queen?

Anne. No, not for all the riches under Heaven.

Old L. This ſtrange; a threepence bow'd would hire me
Old as I am, to Queene it: but I pray you,
What thinke you of a Dutchefle? Hauë you limbs

To beare that load of Title?

An. No in truth.

Old L. Then you are weakly made; plucke off a little,
I would not be a young Count in your way.

For more then blushing comes to: If your backe
Cannot vouchſaſe this burthen, tis too weake
Euer to get a Boy.

An. How you doe ſtalke;

If weare againe, I would not be a Queene,
For all the world:

Old L. In faith, for little England

You'd venture an emballing : I my ſelſe

Would for Carnaruanſhure, although there long'd

No more to th' Crowne but that: Lo, who comes here?

Enter Lord Chamberlaine.

(know

L.Cham. Good morrow Ladies; what were't worth to
The ſecret of your conference?

An. My good Lord,

Not your demand; it values not your asking :

My Miftris Sorrowes we were pittrying.

Cham. It was a gentle buſineſſe, and becoming

The action of good women, there is hope
All will be well.

An. Now I pray God, Amen.

Cham. You beare a gentle minde, & heau'nly bleſſings
Follow ſuch Creatures. That you may, faire Lady
Perceivë I ppeake ſincerely, and high notes

Tane of your many vertues; the Kings Maiety.
Commends his good opinion of you, to you; and
Doe's purpoe honour to you no leſſe flowing,
Then Marchioneneſſe of Pembrooke, to which Title,
A Thouſand pound a yeare, Annuall ſupport,
Out of his Grace, he addes.

An. I do not know.

What kindle of my obedience, I should tender:
More then my All, is Nothing: Nor my Prayers

Are not words duely hallowed; nor my Wifhes
More worth, then empty vanities: yet Prayers & Wifhes
Are all I can returne. Befeech your Lordship,

Vouchſaſe to ppeake my thanks, and my obedience,
As from a bluſhing Handmaiden, to his Highneſſe;

Whose health and Royalty I pray for.

Cham. Lady;

I shall not faile t'approue the faire conceit

The King hath of you. I haue perus'd her well,
Beauty and Honour in her are ſomlingled,

That they haue caught the King : and who knowes yet
But from this Lady, may proceed a lemme,
To lighten all this lie. I'le to the King,
And say I spoke with you.

Exit Lord Chamberlaine.

An. My honour'd Lord.

Old L. Why this it is : See, ſee,

I haue beene begging fixtene yeares in Court
(Am yet a Courtier beg getly) nor could
Come pat betwixt too early, and too late

For any ſuit of pounds: and you, (oh fate)

A very fresh ſiſh heere; ſye, ſye, ſye vpon

This compel'd fortune : haue your mouth ſild vp,
Before you open it.

An. This is ſtrange to me.

Old L. How taſts it? Is it bitter? Forty pence, no:
There was a Lady once (tis an old Story)

That would not be a Queene, that would ſhe not

For all the mud in Egypt; haue you heard it?

An. Comc you are pleafant.

Old L. With your Theame, I could

Ore-mount the Larke: The Marchioneneſſe of Pembrooke?
A thouſand pounds a yeare, for pure reſpect?

No other obligation ? by my Life,

That promises mo thouſands: Honours traine

Is longer then his fore-skirt; by this time

I know your backe will beare a Dutchefle. Say,

Are you not ſtronger then you were?

An. Good Lady,

Make your ſelſe mirth with your particular ſancy,
And leaue me out on't. Would I had no being

If this ſalute my blood aiot; it faints me

To thinke what followes.

The Queene is comforteſſe, and wee forget full

In our long abſence: pray do not deliuer,

What heere y'haue heard to her.

Old L. What doe you thinke me — Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Trumpets, Sennet, and Cornets.

Enter two Vergers, with ſhort filuer wands; next them two

Scribes in the habite of Doſtors; after them, the Bishop of

Canterbury alone; after him, the Bifhops of Lincoln, &c.

Rochefour, and S. Asaph: Next them, with ſome ſmall

dijſtance, followes a Gentleman bearing the Purſe, with the

great Seale, and a Cardinals Hat: Then two Prieſts, bea-
ring each a Silver Croſſe: Then a Gentleman Vſher bare-
headed, accompanied with a Sergeant at Armes, bearing a

Silver Mace: Then two Gentlemen bearing two great

Silver Pillers: After them, ſide by ſide, the two Cardinals,

two Noblemen, with the Sword and Mace. The King takes

place under the Cloth of State. The two Cardinalls ſit
under him as Indiges. The Queene takes place ſome di-

ſtance from the King. The Bifhops place themſelues on

each ſide the Court in manner of a Confifory: Below them

the Scribes. The Lords fit next the Bifhops. The rest of the

Attendants ſtand in convenient order about the Stage.

V 2

Card.

218

Car. Whilest our Commission from Rome is read, Let silence be commanded.

King. What's the need?

It hath already publiquely bene read,
And on all sides ch'Authority allow'd,
You may then (so pare that time.

Car. Bee't so, proceed.

Seri. Say, Henry K. of England, come into the Court.

Crier. Henry King of England, &c.

King. Heere.

Scribe. Say, Katherine Queene of England,
Come into the Court.

Crier. Katherine Queene of England, &c.

The Queene makes no answer, riseth out of her Chaire,
goes about the Court, comes to the King, and kneelest at
his Feete. Then speakes.

Sir, I desire you do me Right and Iustice,
And to befow your pitty on me; for
I am a moft poore Woman, and a Stranger,
Borne out of your Dominions: hauing heere
No Iudge indifferent, nor no more affurance
Of quall Friendship and Proceeding. Alas Sir:
In what haue I offended you? What caufe
Hath my behauiour giuen to your displeasure,
That thus you should proceede to put me off,
And take your good Grace from me? Heauen witneſſe,
I haue bene to you, a true and humble Wife,
At all times to your will conformable:

Euer in feare to kindle your Diflike,
Yea, ſubieſt to your Countenance: Glad, or forry,
As I faw it inclin'd? When was the houre
I euer contradicted your Deſire?

Or made it not mine too? Or which of your Friends
Hae I not ſtroue to loue, although I knew
He were mine Enemy? What Friend of mine,
That had to him deriu'd your Anger, did I
Continue in my Liking? Nay, gaue notice
He was from thence diſcharg'd; Sir, call to minde,
That I haue beene your Wife, in this Obedience,
Vpward of twenty yeares, and haue bene bleft
With many Children by you. If in the courſe
And proceſſe of this time, you can report,
And proue it too, againſt mine Honor, aught;
My bond to Wedlocke, or my Loue and Dutie
Againſt your Sacred Perſon; in Gods name
Turne me away: and let the fowl'ft Contempt
Shut doore vpon me, and ſo giue me vp
To the ſharp'ſt kinde of Iuſtice. Pleaſe you, Sir,
The King your Father, was reputed for
A Prince moſt Prudent; of an excellent
And vnmatch'd Wit, and Iudgement. Ferdinand
My Father, King of Spaine, was reckon'd one
The wifed Prince, that there had reign'd, by many
A yeare before. It is not to be question'd,
That they had gather'd a wife Councell to them
Of euery Realme, that did debate this Buſineſſe,
Who deem'd our Marriage lawful. Wherefore I humbly
Befeech you Sir, to spare me, till I may

Be by my Friends in Spaine, aduis'd; whose Counſaile
I will implore. If not, i' th' name of God
Your pleasure be fulfill'd.

Wol. You haue heere Lady,
(And of your choice) theſe Reuerend Fathers, men
Of ſingular Integrity, and Learning;
Yea, the elect o'th'Land, who are affembled
To pleade your Caufe. It ſhall be therefore bootleſſe,

That longer you defure the Court, as well
For your owne quiet, as to rectifie
What is vnſetled in the King.

Camp. His Grace

Hath ſpoken well, and iuſtly: Therefore Madam,
It's fit this Royall ſession do proceed,
And that (without delay) their Arguments
Be now produc'd, and heard.

Qu. Lord Cardinall, to you I speake.

Wol. Your pleafure, Madam.

Qu. Sir, I am about to weep; but thinking that
We are a Queene (or long haue dream'd so) certaine
The daughter of a King, my drops of teares,
Ile turne to ſparkes of fire.

Wol. Be patient yet.

Qu. I will, when you are humble; Nay before,
Or God will punish me. I do beleeue
(Induc'd by potent Circumſtances) that
You are mine Enemy, and make my Challenge,
You shall not be my Iudge. For it is you
Hae blowne this Coale, betwixt my Lord, and me;
(Which Gods dew quench) therefore, I lay against,
I vutterly abhorre; yea, from my Soule
Refuse you for my Iudge, whom yet once more
I hold my moſt malicious Foe, and thinke not
At all a Friend to truth.

Wol. I do proſſe

You speake not like your ſelfe: who euery
Hae flood to Charity, and diſplayd th' effects
Of diſpoſition gentle, and of wifedome,
Ore-topping womans powre. Madam, you do me wrong
I haue no Spleene againſt you, nor iniſtice
For you, or any: how farre I haue proceeded,
Or how farre further (Shall) is warranted
By a Commiffion from the Conſiſtorie,
Yea, the whole Conſiſtorie of Rome. You charge me,
That I haue blowne this Coale: I do deny it;
The King is preſent: If it be knowne to him,
That I gainſay my Deed, how may he wound,
And worthily my Falſehood, yea, as much
As you haue done my Truth. If he know
That I am free of your Report, he knowes
I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him
It lies to cure me, and the Cure is to
Remoue theſe Thoughts from you. The which before
His Highneſſe ſhall ſpeake in, I do beſeech
You (gracious Madam) to vnthinke your ſpeaking,
And to ſay so no more.

Queen. My Lord, my Lord,
I am a ſimple woman, much too weake
T'opſoſe your eunerving. Y'are meek, & humble-mood
You ſigne your Place, and Calling, in full ſeeming,
With Meekeneſſe and Humilitie: but your Heart
Is cramm'd with Arrogancie, Spleene, and Pride.
You haue by Fortune, and his Highneſſe fauors,
Gone flightingly o're lowe steppes, and now are mounted
Where Powres are your Retainers, and your words
(Domeſtickes to you) ſerue your will, as't pleafe
Your ſelfe pronounce their Office. I muſt tell you,
You tender more your perſons Honor, then
Your high preſſion Spirituall. That age
I do reſufe you for my Iudge, and heere
Before you all, Appeale vnto the Pope,
To bring my whole Caufe 'fore his Holinesſe,
And to be iuſd'g'd by him.

She Curtſies to the King, and offers to depart.
Camp.

Camp. The Queene is oblique,
Stubborne to luttice, apt to accuse it, and
Didainfall to be tride by't; tis not well.
Shee's going away.

Kin. Call her againe.

Crier. Katherine, Q of England, come into the Court.
Gent. U/b. Madam, you are cald backe.

Quee. What need you note it? pray you keep your way,
When you are cald returne. Now the Lord helpe,
They vexe me paft my patience, pray you paffe on't.
I will not tarry: no, nor euer more
Vpon this buinefle my appearance make,
In any of their Courts.

Exit Queene, and her Attendants.

Kin. Goe thy wayes Kate,

That man it's world, who shall report he ha's
A better Wive, let him in naught be trusted,
For speaking falfe in that; thou art alone
(If thy rare qualities, sweet gentlenefle,
Thy meeknefte Saint-like, Wive-like Gouernment,
Obeying in commanding, and thy parts
Soueraigne and Pious els, could (speake theee out)
The Queene of earthly Queenes: Shee's Noble borne;
And like her true Nobility, she ha's
Carried her selfe towards me,

Wal. Moft gracious Sir,

In humblest manner I require your Highnes,
That it shall please you to declare in hearing
Of all these eates (for where I am rob'd and bound,
There must I be vnloos'd, although not there
At once, and fully satisfide) whether euer I
Did broach this buines to your Highnes, or
Laid any fruple in your way, which might
Induce you to the question on't: or euer
Hauë to you, but with thanks to God for such
A Royall Lady, (pake one, the least word that might
Beto the preuidence of her present State,
Or touch of her good Perfon?

Kia. My Lord Cardinall,

I doe excule you; yea, vpon mine Honour,
I fice you from't: You are not to be taught
That you haue many enemies, that know not
Why they are so; but like to Village Curres,
Barke when their fellowes doe. By some of these
The Queene is put in anger; y'are excus'd;
But will you be more iustifi'd? You euer
Haue wifd' the fleeping of this buines, neuer defir'd
It to be flir'd; but ito haue hindred, oft
The paffages made toward it; on my Honour,
I pake my good Lord Cardnall, to this point;
And thus farre cleare him.

Now, what mou'd me too't,

I will be bold with time and your attention: (too't:
Then marke this inducement. Thus it came; give heede
My Conscience first recei'u'd a tenderes,

Scruple, and pricke, on certaine Speeches veter'd
By th' Bishop of Bayon, then French Embaflador,
Who had beene hither sent on the debating
And Marriage twixt the Duke of Orleance, and
Our Daughter Mary, I'ch' Progreffle of this buines,
Ere a determinate resolution, hee
(I meane the Bishop) did require a respite,
Wherein he might the King his Lord aduertife,
Whether our Daughters were legitimate,
Respecting this our Marriage with the Dowager,
Sometimes our Brothers Wife. This respite flooke

The bolome of my Conscience, enter'd me;
Yea, with a spitting power, and made to tremble
The region of my Breast, which fore'd such way,
That many maz'd considerings, did throng
And preft in with this Caution. First, I thought
I flood not in the smile of Heauen, who had
Commanded Nature, that my Ladies wombe
If it concei'u'd a male-child by me, should
Doe no more Offices of life too't; then
The Graue does to th' dead: For her Male Iffue,
Or di'de where they were made, or shortly after
This world had ay't them. Hence I tooke a thought,
This was a Judgement on me, that my Kingdome
(Well worthy the best Heyre o'th' World) should not
Be gladden in't by me. Then followes, that
I weigh'd the danger which my Realme's flood in
By this my Iffues faile, and that gaue to me
Many a groaning throw: thus hulling in
The wild Sea of my Conscience, I did fteere
Toward this remedy, whereupon we are
Now preſent heere together: that's to ſay,
I meant to rectifie my Conſcience, which
I then did feele full ſicke, and yet not well,
By all the Reuerend Fathers of the Land,
And Doctors learn'd. First I began in private,
With you my Lord of Lincoln: you remember
How under my oppreſſion I did reeke
When I firſt mou'd you,

B. Lin. Very well my Liede.

Kin. I haue spoke long, be pleas'd your ſelfe to ſay
How farre you ſatisfide me.

Lin. So pleafe your Highnes,
The question did at first so flagger me,
Bearing a State of mighty moment in't,
And conſequence of dread, that I committed
The daring ſ counſaile which I had to doubt,
And did entreate your Highnes to this courſe,
Which you are running here.

Kin. I then mou'd you,
My Lord of Canterbury, and got your leaue
To make this present Summons vnſolicited.
I left no Reuerend Perſon in this Court;
But by particular conſent proceeded
Under your hands and Seales; therefore goe on,
For no diflike i'th' world againſt the perſon
Of the good Queene; but the ſharpe thorny points
Of my alleadged reaſons, diuies this forward:
Proue but our Marriage lawfull, by my Life
And Kingly Dignity, we are contented
To weare our mortall State to come, with her,
(Katherine our Queene) before the primeſt Creature
That's Parragon'd o'th' World

Camp. So pleafe your Highnes,

The Queene being absent, 'tis a needfull fitneſſe,
That we aduigne this Court till further dayes;
Meane while, muft be an earneſt motion
Made to the Queene to call backe her Appeale
She intends vnto his Holineſſe.

Kin. I may perſcue
These the Cardinals trifle with me: I abhorre
This dilatory flot, and tricks of Rome.
My learn'd and welbeloued Servant Crawmer,
Prethee returne, with thy approach: I know,
My comfort comes along: breake vp the Court;
I lay, fet on,

Exeunt, in manner as they enter'd.

v 3

Altus

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Queene and her Women as at worke.
**Quee**n. Take thy Lute wench,
My Soule growes fad with troubles,
Sing, and disperſe'em if thou canſt: leaue working:

SONG.
O Ampheſwith his Lute made Trees,
And the Mountaine tops that freeze,
Bow themſelues when he did ſing.
To his Muficke, Plants and Flowers
Euer ſprung; as Sunne and Showers,
There had made a laſting Spring.
Emery thing that heard him play,
Euen the Billowes of the Sea,
Hung their heads, & then lay by.
In ſweet Muficke is ſuch Art,
Killing care, & griefe of heart,
Fall aſlEEPe, or hearing dye.

Enter a Gentleman.
**Que**en. How now?
Gent. And't pleafe your Grace, the two great Cardinals
Wait in the prefence.

**Que**en. Would they ſpeake with me?
Gent. They wil'd me ſay so Madam.
**Que**en. Pray their Graces

To come neere: what can be their busines
With me, a poore weake woman, falne from fauour?
I doe not like their comming; now I thinke on't,
They ſhould bee good men, their affaires as righteouſ
But all Hoods, make not Monkes.

Enter the two Cardinalls, W olſey & Campian.
W olſey. Peace to your Highneſſe.

**Que**en. Your Graces find me heere part of a Houſwife,
(I would be all) againſt the worſt may happen:
What are your pleasures with me, reuerent Lords?

W ol. May it pleafe you Neble Madam, to withdraw
Into your private Chamber; we ſhall giue you
The full caufe of our comming.

**Que**en. Speake it heere.
There's nothing I haue done yet e' my Conſcience
Deferues a Corner: would all other Women
Could ſpeake this with as free a Soule as I doe.
My Lords, I care not (ſo much I am happy
Abone a number) if my actions
Were tri'd by eu'ry tongue, eu'ry eye ſaw'em,
Enuy and baſe opinion ſet againſt em,
I know my life to eu'en. If your busines
Seeke me out, and that way I am Wife in;
Out with it boldly: Truth loues open dealing.

Card. Tanta eſt erga mentis integritas Regina ſereniffima.
**Que**en. O good my Lord, no Latin;

I am not ſuch a Truant ſince my comming,
As not to know the Language I haue liu'd in: (ous:
A ſtrange Tongue makes my cauſe more ſtrange, ſuſpiti-
Pray ſpeake in English; heere are ſome will thanke you,
If you ſpeake truth, for their poore Miſtris ſake;
Beleeue me ſhe ha's had much wrong. Lord Cardinall,
The willing'ſt finne I euer yet committed,
May be abſolu'd in English.

Card. Noble Lady,

I am forry my integrity ſhoul breed,
(And ſeruice to his Maieſtly and you)
So deepe ſuſpition, where all faith was meant;
We come not by the way of Accuſation,
To taint that honour euery good Tongue bleſſes;
Nor to betray you any way to forrow;
You haue too much good Lady: But to know
How you ſtand minded in the waighty difference
Betweene the King and you, and to deliver
(Like free and honet men) our iuſt opinions,
And comforts to our caufe.

Camp. Moſt honour'd Madam,
My Lord of Yorke, out of his Noble nature,
Zeale and obedience he ſtill bore your Grace,
Forgetting (like a good man) your late Cenſure
Both of his truth and him (which was too farre)
Offers, as I doe, in a ſigne of peace,
His ſeruice, and his Counſell.

**Que**en. To betray me.
My Lords, I thanke you both for your good wills,
Ye ſpeake like honet men, (pray God ye proue ſo)
But how to make ye ſodainly an Anſwere
In ſuch a poynt of weight, ſo neere mine Honour,
(More neere my Life I ſeare) with my weake wit;
And to ſuch men of gravity and learning;
In truth I know not. I was ſet as worke,
Among my Maids, full little (God knowes) looking
Either for ſuch men, or ſuch buſineſſe;
For her ſake that I haue beene, for I ſeelie
The laſt ſit of my Greatneſſe; good your Graces
Let me haue time and Counſell for my Caufe:
Alas, I am a Woman frendleſſe, hopeleſſe.

W ol. Madam,
You wrong the Kings loue with these ſeares,
Your hopes and friends are infinite.

**Que**en. In England,
But little for my profit can you thinke Lords,
That any English man dare give me Councell?
Or be a knowne friend'gainſt his Highnes pleature,
(Though he be growne ſo desperate to be honet)
And liue a Subieſt? Nay for ſooth, my Friends,
They that muſt weigh out my aſſuſtions,
They that my truſt muſt grow to, liue not here,
They are (as all my other comforts) far hence
In mine owaue Countrie Lords.

Camp. I would your Grace
Would leaue your greeſes, and take my Counſell.

**Que**en. How Sir?
Camp. Put your maine cauſe into the Kings proteſtions,
Hee's louing and moſt gracious. 'Twill be much,
Both for your Honour better, and your Caufe:
For if the tryall of the Law o'retake ye,
You'l part away diſgrac'd.

W ol. He tels you rightly.

**Que**en. Ye tell me what ye wifh for both, my ruine:
Is this your Chriſtian Councell? Out vpon ye,
Heauen is aboue all yet; there ſits a Iudge,
That no King can corrupt.

Camp. Your rage miſtakes vs.
**Que**en. The more ſhame for ye; holy men I though't,
Vpon my Soule two reuerend Cardinall Vertues:
But Cardinall Sins, and hollow hearts I ſeare ye:
Mend'em for ſhame my Lords: Is this your comfort?
The Cordiall that ye bring a wretched Lady?
A woman loft among ye, laugh't at, ſcorn?
I will not wifh ye halfe my miſeries,

219

I haue more Charity. But say I warn'd yee;
Take heed, for heauens fake take heed, leaft at once
The burthen of my forrowes, fall vpon ye.

Car. Madam, this is a meere distraction,
You turne the good we offer, into enuy.

Quce. Ye turne me into nothing. Woe vpon ye,
And all such falfe Professors. Would you haue me
(If you haue any furtice, any Pitty,
If ye be any thing but Churchmens habits)
Put my fique caufe into his hands, that hates me?
Alas, ha's banifh'd me his Bed already,
His Loue, too long ago. I am old my Lords,
And all the Fellowship I hold now with him
Is only my Obedience. What can happen
To me, aboue this wretchedneſſe? All your Studies
Make me a Curſe, like this.

Camp. Your feares are worſe.

Qu. Haue I liu'd thus long (let me ſpeak my ſelfe,
Since Vertue findes no friends) a Wife, a true one?
A Woman (I dare ſay without Vainglory)
Neuer yet branded with Sufpition?
Haue I, with all my full Affections
Still met the King? Lou'd him next Heau'n? Obey'd him?
Bin (out of fondneſſe) ſuperſtitious to him?
Almost forgot my Prayres to content him?
And am I thus rewarded? Tis not well Lords,
Bring me a conſtant woman to her Husband,
One that ne're dream'd a Ioy, beyond his pleaſure;
And to that Woman (when ſhe has done moſt)
Yet will I adde an Honor; a great Patience.

Car. Madam, you wander from the good
We ayme at.

Qu. My Lord,

I dare not make my ſelfe so guiltie,
To giue vp willingly that Noble Title
Your Maſter wed me to: nothing but death
Shall e're divorce my Dignities.

Car. Pray heare me.

Qu. Would I had neuer trod this English Earth,
Or felt the Flatteries that grow vpon it:
Ye haue Angels Faces; but Heauen knowes your hearts.
What will become of me now, wretched Lady?
I am the moſt vnhappy Woman liuing.
Alas (poore Wenches) where are now your Fortunes ?
Shipwrack'd vpon a Kingdome, where no Pitty,
No Friends, no Hope, no Kindred weepe for me ?
Almost no Graue allow'd me ? Like the Lilly
That once was Miftris of the Field, and flourith'd,
Ile hang my head, and perſih.

Cir. If your Grace
Could but be brought to know, our Ends are honest,
You'l feel more comfort. Why ſhold we (good Lady)
Vpon what caufe wrong you ? Alas, our Places,
The way of our Proſection is againſt it;
We are to Cure such forrowes, not to ſowe'em.
For Goodneſſe fake, confider what you do,
How you may hurt your ſelfe: I, vtherly
Grow from the Kings Acquaintance, by this Carriage.
The hearts of Princes kiffe Obedience,
So much they loue it. But to flubborde Spirits,
They ſwell and grow, as terrible as ſtormes.
I know you haue a Gentle, Noble temper,
A Soule as even as a Calme; Pray thinke vs,
Thofe we proſeſſe, Peace-makers, Friends, and Seruants.

Camp. Madam, you'l finde it so:

You wrong your Vertues

With theſe weake Womens ſeares. A Noble Spirit
As yours was, put into you, euer caſts
Such doubts as falſe Coine from it. The King loues you,
Beware you looſe it not: For vs (if you pleaſe
To truſt vs in your buſineſſe) we are ready
To vſe our vmoſt Studies, in your ſeruice.

Qu. Do what ye will, my Lords:
And pray forgiue me;
If I haue vs'd my ſelfe vnma[n]nerly,
You know I am a Woman, lacking wit
To make a feemely anſwer to ſuch perſons,
Pray do my ſeruice to his Maieſtie,
He ha's my heart yet, and ſhall haue my Prayers
While I ſhall haue my life. Come reuerend Fathers,
Beſtow your Councels on me. She now begges
That little thought when ſhe ſet footing heere,
She ſhould haue bought her Dignities ſo deere.
Exeunt

## Scena Secunda.

Enter the Duke of Norſtolke, Duke of Suſſolke, Lord Surrey, and Lord Chamberlaine.

Norſ. If you will now vnite in your Complaints,
And force them with a Conſtancy, the Cardinall
Cannot ſtand vnder them. If you omit
The offer of this time, I cannot promiſe,
But that you ſhall ſuſtaine moe new diſgraces,
With theſe you beare already.

Sur. I am ioyfull
To meete the leaſt occasion, that may giue me
Remembrance of my Father-in-Law, the Duke,
To be reueng'd on him.
Suf. Which of the Peeres
Haue vncontemn'd gone by him, or at leaſt
Strangely neglected? When did he regard
The ſtampe of Noblenſe in any perſon
Out of him ſelfe?

Cham. My Lords, you ſpeak your pleaſures:
What he deferues of you and me, I know:
What we can do to him (though now the time
Gives way to vs) I much ſeare. If you cannot
Barre his acceſſe to'th'King, neuer attempt
Any thing on him: for he hath a Witchcraft
Ouer the King in's Tongue.

Nor. O ſeare him not,
His ſpell in that is out: the King hath found
Matter againſt him, that for euer marres
The Hony of his Language. No, he's ſetled
(Not to come off) in his displeaſure.

Suf. Sir,
I should be glad to heare ſuch Newes as this
Once euery houre.
Nor. Beleue it, this is true.
In the Diuorce, his contrarie proceedings
Are all unfolded: wherein he appeares.
As I would with mine Enemy.

Suf. How came
His practiſes to light?

Suf. Moſt strangely.

Suf. O how? how?

Suf. The Cardinals Letters to the Pope miſestried,

And

220

And came to th'eye o'th'King, wherein was read
How that the Cardinall did intreat his Holineffe
To fly the Judgement o'th'Diuorce; for if
It did take place, I do (quoth he) perceiue
My King is tangled in affection, to
A Creature of the Queenes, Lady Anne Bullen.

Sur. Ha's the King this?

Suf. Beleeue it.

Sur. Will this worke?

Cham. The King in this perceiues him, how he coaſts
And hedges his owne way. But in this point,
All his trickes founder, and he brings his Phyſicke
After his Patients death; the King already
Hath married the faire Lady.

Sur. Would he had.

Suf. May you be happy in your wifh my Lord,
For I profileſe you haue it.

Sur. Now all my ioy

Trace the Coniunction.

Suf. My Amen too't.

Nor. All mens.

Suf. There's order giuen for her Coronation:
Marry this is yet but yong, and may he left
To ſome eares vnecounted. But my Lords
She is a gallant Creature, and complate
In minde and feature. I performede me, from her
Will fall ſome bleſſing to this Land, which ſhall
In it be memoriz'd.

Sur. But will the King

Digeft this Letter of the Cardinals ?

The Lord forbid.

Nor. Marry Amen.

Suf. No, no:

There be moe Waſpes that buz about his Noſe,
Will make this ſting the sooner. Cardinall Campeines,
Is ſtolne away to Rome, hath tane no leaue,
Ha's left the caufe o'th'King vnhandled, and
Is poſted as the Agent of our Cardinall,
To ſecond all his plot. I do aſſure you,
The King cry'de Ha, at this.

Cham. Now God incense him,
And let him cry Ha, lowder.

Norf. But my Lord

When returns Cranmer?

Suf. He is return'd in his Opinions, which
Hauſe ſatified the King for his Diuorce,
Together with all famous Colledges

Almoſt in Chriſtendome: ſhortly (I beleeue)
His ſecond Marriage ſhall be publifhed, and

Her Coronation. Katherine no more

Shall be call'd Queene, but Princell Dowager,
And Widdow to Prince Arthur.

Nor. This fame Cranmer's

A worthy Fellow, and hath tane much paine
In the Kings buſineſſe.

Suf. Hena's, and we ſhall ſee him

For it, an Arch-by-ſhop.

Nor. So I heare.

Suf. Tis so.

Enter Wolſey and Cromwell.

The Cardinall.

Nor. Obſerue, obſerue, hee's moody.

Car. The Packet Cromwell,

Gau't you the King ?

Crom. To his owne hand, in's Bed-chamber.

Card. Look'd he o'th'inſide of the Paper ?

Crom. Presently

He did vnſeale them, and the firſt he view'd,
He did it with a Serious minde: a heede
Was in his countenance. You he bad
Attend him heere this Morning.

Card. Is he ready to come abroad?

Crom. I thinke by this he is.

Card. Leaue me a while.

Exit Cromwell.

It shall be to the Dutches of Alanson,
The French Kings Sifter; He shall marry her.

Anne Bullen ? No: Ile no Anne Bullens for him,
There's more in't then faire Viſage. Bullen ?

No, wee'l no Bullens : Speedily I wifh

To heare from Rome. The Marchionessle of Penbroke ?

Nor. He's discontented.

Suf. May he heares the King

Does whet his Anger to him.

Sur. Sharpe enough,
Lord for thy Iuſtice.

Car. The late Queenes Gentlewoman ?

A Knights Daughter

To be her Miftris Miftris ? The Queenes, Queene ?

This Candle burnes not cleere, 'tis I muſt ſuſſeit,
Then out it goes. What though I know her vertuous
And well deieruing ? yet I know her for

A ſpleeny Lutheran, and not wholſome to
Our cauſe, that ſhe ſhould lye i'th'boſome of
Our hard ruſ'd King. Againe, there is ſprung vp
An Heretique, an Arch-one; Cranmer, one
Hath crawl'd into the ſauour of the King,
And is his Oracle.

Nor. He is vex'd at ſomething.

Enter King, reading of a Scedule.

Sur. I would 'twer ſomthing y would ſet the ſting,
The Maſter-cord on's heart.

Suf. The King, the King.

King. What piles of wealth hath he accumulated
To his owne portion ? And what expence by't houre
Seemes to flow from him? How, i'th'name of Thrift
Does he rake this together? Now my Lords,
Saw you the Cardinal?

Nor. My Lord, we haue
Stood heere obferuing him. Some ſtrange Commotion
Is in his braine: He bites his lip, and starts,
Stops on a ſodaine, lookes vpon the ground,
Then layes his finger on his Temple: ſtraight
Springs out into ſaſt gate, then ſtops againe,
Strikes his breſt hard, and anon, he caſts
His eye againſt the Moone: in moſt ſtrange Poſures
We haue ſeene him ſet himselfſe.

King. It may well be,
There is a mutiny in's minde. This morning,
Papers of State he ſent me, to perſufe.
As I requi'd: and wot you what I found
There (on my Conſcience put vnwittingly)
Forſooth an InVENTORY, thus importing
The feuerall parcels of his Plate his Treſasure,
Rich Stuſſes and Ornaments of Houshold, which
I ſinde at ſuch proud Rate, that it out-ſpeakes
Poſſession of a Subiect.

Nor. It's Heauens will,
Some Spirit put this paper in the Packet,
To bleſſe your eye withall.

King. If we did thinke

His

His Contemplation were aboue the earth,
And fixt on Spirituall object, he should fill
Dwell in his Mufings, but I am affraid
His Thinkings are below the Moone, not worth
His ferious confidering.

King takes his Seat, whisbers Louell, who goes
to the Cardinall.

Car. Heauen forgiue me,

Euer God bleſſe your Highneſſe.

King. Good my Lord,

You are full of Heauenly fluffe, and beare the Inventory
Of your beſt Graces, in your minde; the which
You were now running o're: you haue ſcarle time
To ſteale from Spirituall leyſure, a briefe ſpan
To keepe your earthlie Audit, ſure in that
I deeme you an ill Husband, and am gald
To haue you therein my Companion.

Car. Sir,

For Holy Offices I haue a time; a time
To thinke vpon the part of buſineſſe, which
I beare i'th'State: and Nature does require
Hertimes of preferuation, which perſorce
I her ſtraile ſonne, among ſ'th my Brethren mortall,
Moft giue my tendance to.

King. You haue ſaid well.

Car. And euer may your Highneſſe yoake together,
(As I will lend you cauſe) my doing well,
With my well ſaying.

King. 'Tis well ſaid agen,
And 'tis a kinde of good deede to ſay well,
And yet words are no deeds. My Father lou'd you,
He ſaid he did, and with his deed did Crowne
His word vpon you. Since I had my Office,
I haue kept you next my Heart, haue not alone
Imploy'd you where high Profits might come home,
But par'd my prefent Hauings, to beſtow
My Bounties vpon you.

Car. What ſhould this meane ?

Sur. The Lord increafe this buſineſſe.

King. Haue I not made you
The prime man of the State ? I pray you tell me,
If what I now pronounce, you haue found true:
And if you may conſeſſe it, ſay withall
If you are bound to vs, or no. What ſay you ?

Car. My Soueraigne, I conſeſſe your Royall graces
Showrd on me daily, haue bene more then could
My studied purpoſes requite, which went
Beyond all mans endeauors. My endeauors,
Haue euer come too ſhort of my Desires,
Yet fill'd with my Abilieties: Mine owne ends
Haue bene mine ſo, that evermore they pointed
To th'good of your moſt Sacred Perton, and
The profit of the State. For your great Graces
Heap'd vpon me (poore Vndeferuer) I
Cann nothing render but Allegiant thankes,
My Prayres to heauen for you; my Loyaltie
Which euer ha's, and euer ſhall be growing,
Till death (that Winter) kill it.

King. Fairely anſwer'd :

A Loyall, and obedient Subieſt is
Therein illustrated, the Honor of it
Does pay the Act of it, as i'th'contrary
The ſowleneſſe is the puniſhment. I prefume,
That as my hand ha's open'd Bounty to you,
My heart drop'd Loue, my powre rain'd Honor, more
On you, then any: So your Hand, and Heart,

Your Braine, and every Function of your power,
Should, notwithſtanding that your bond of duty,
As 'twer in Loues particular, be more
To me your Friend, then any.

Car. I do proſeſſe,
That for your Highneſſe good, I euert labour'd
More then mine owne: that am,haue, and will be
(Though all the world should cracke their duty to you,
And throw it from their Soule, though perils did
Abound, as thicke as thought could make 'em, and
Appeare in formes more horrid) yet my Duty,
As doth a Rocke againſt the chiding Flood,
Should the approach of this wilde Riuer breake,
And ſtand vnſhaken yours.

King. 'Tis Nobly ſpoken :
Take notice Lords, he ha's a Loyall ſpeſt,
For you haue ſeene him open't. Read o're this,
And after this, and then to Breakſaft with
What appetite you haue.

Exit King, frowning upon the Cardinall, the Nobles
throng after him smiling, and whispering.

Car. What ſhould this meane ?
What ſodaine Anger's this? How haue I reap'd it ?
He parted Frowning from me, as if Ruine
Leap'd from his Eyes. So looks the chafed Lyon
Vpon the daring Huntſman that has gall'd him:
Then makes him nothing. I muſt reade this paper :

I ſeare the Story of his Anger. 'Tis ſo:
This paper ha's vndone me: 'Tis th'Accompt
Of all that world of Wealth I haue drawne together
For mine owne ends, (Indeed to gaine the Popedome,
And fee my Friends in Rome.) O Negligence!
Fit for a Foole to fall by: What croſſe Diuell
Made me put this maine Secret in the Packet
I ſent the King ? Is there no way to cure this?
No new duice to beate this from his Braines ?
I know 'twill ſtirre him strongly; yet I know
A way, if it take right, in ſpight of Fortune
Will bring me off againe. What's this ? To th'Pope ?
The Letter (as I liue) with all the Buſineſſe
I wri too's Holineſſe. Nay then, farewell :
I haue touch'd the highest point of all my Greatneſſe,
And from that full Meridian of my Glory,
I haſte now to my Setting. I ſhall fall
Like a bright exhalation in the Euening,
And no man ſee me more.

Enter to Woolſey, the Dukes of Norſtolke and Suſſolke, the
Earle of Surrey, and the Lord Chamberlaine.

Nor. Heare the Kings pleafure Cardinall,
Who commands you
To render vp the Great Scale prefently
Into our hands, and to Confine your ſelſe
To Aſher-houſe, my Lord of Winchefters,
Till you heare further from his Highneſſe.

Car. Stay :
Where's your Comſmission? Lords, words cannot carrie
Authoritie ſo weighty.

Suf. Who dare croſſe 'em,
Bearing the Kings will from his mouth expreſſely ?
Car. Till I finde more then will, or words to do it,
(I meane your malice) know, Ouſicious Lords,
I dare, and muſt deny it. Now I ſeele
Of what course ſmettle ye are molded, Enuy,
How eagerly ye follow my Diſgraces

As

As if it fed ye, and how fleeke and wanton,
Ye appeare in euery thing may bring my ruine;
Follow your euious courtes, men of Malice ;
You haue Christian warrant for 'em, and no doubt
In time will finde their fir Rewards. That Seale
You aske with fuch a Violence, the King
(Mine, and your Maſter) with his owne hand, gaue me:
Bad me enjoy it, with the Place, and Honors
During my life; and to confirme his Goodneſſe,
T'ide it by Letters Patents. Now, who'll takeit?

Sur. The King that gaue it.

Car. It muſt be himſelfe then.

Sur. Thou art a proud Traitor, Prieſt.

Car. Proud Lord, thou lyeſt:

Within theſe forſtie houres, Surrey durſt better
Hauë burnt that Tongue, then ſaide ſo.

Sur. Thy Ambition

(Thou Scarlet finne) robb'd this bewailing Land
Of Noble Buckingham, my Father-in-Law,
The heads of all thy Brother-Cardinals,
(With thee, and all thy beſt parts bound together)
Weigh'd not a haire of his. Plague of your policie,
You ſent me Deputie for Ireland,
Farre from his ſuccour; from the King, from all
That might haue mercie on the fault, thou gau't him:
Whil't your great Goodneſſe, out of holy pitty,
Aſſolu'd him with an Axe.

Wol. This, and all else

This talking Lord can lay vpon my credit,
I anſwer, is moſt falſe. The Duke by Law
Found his deſerts. How innocent I was
From any priuate malice in his end,
His Noble Iurie, and foule Caufe can wittneſſe.
If I lou'd many words, Lord, I should tell you,
You haue as little Honeſtie, as Honor,
That in the way of Loyaltie, and Truth,
Toward the King, my euer Roiall Maſter,
Dare mate a founder man then Surrie can be,
And all that loue his follies.

Sur. By my Soule,

Your long Coat (Prieſt) protec'ts you,
Thou should't ſeele

My Sword i'th' life blood of thee else. My Lords,
Can ye endure to heare this Arrogeance?
And from this Fellow ? If we liue thus tamely,
To be thus Iaded by a peece of Scarlet,
Farewell Nobilitie: let his Grace go forward,
And dare vs with his Cap, like Larkes.

Card. All Goodneſſe

Is poyſon to thy Stomacke.

Sur. Yes, that goodneſſe

Of gleaning all the Lands wealth into one,
Into your owne hands (Card'nall) by Extortion:
The goodneſſe of your intercepted Packets
You writ to'th' Pope, againſt the King: your goodneſſe
Since you prouoke me, ſhall be moſt notorious.
My Lord of Norſtolke, as you are truly Noble,
As you reſpect the common good, the State
Of our deſpis'd Nobilitie, our Iſſues,
(Whom if he liue, will ſcarſe be Gentlemen)
Produce the grand ſumme of his finnes, the Articles
Collected from his life. He ſtartle you
Worſe then the Sacring Bell, when the browne Wench
Lay kiffing in your Armes, Lord Cardinall.

Car. How much me thinkes, I could deſpife this man,
But that I am bound in Charitie againſt it.

Nor. Thoſe Articles, my Lord, are in the Kings hand:
But thus much, they are foule ones.

Wol. So much fairer

And ſpotleſſe, ſhall mine Innocence arise,
When the King knowes my Truth.

Sur. This cannot faue you :

I thanke my Memorie, I yet remember
Some of theſe Articles, and out they ſhall,
Now, if you can bluſh, and crie guiltie Cardinall,
You'll ſhow a little Honeſtie.

Wol. Speake on ſit,

I dare your worſt Obieſions: If I bluſh,
It is to ſee a Nobleman want manners.

Sur. I had rather want thofe, then my head;
Haue at you.

Furſt, that without the Kings aſſent or knowledge,
You wrought to be a Legate, by which power
You maim'd the Iurisdiſion of all Bifhops.

Nor. Then, That in all you writ to Rome, or eſſe
To Forraigne Princes, Ego & Rex meus
Was ſtill inſcrib'd : in which you brought the King
To be your Seruant.

Suf. Then, that without the knowledge
Either of King or Councell, when you went
Ambaſſador to the Emperor, you made bold
To carry into Flanders, the Great Seale.

Sur. Item, You ſent a large Commiſſion
To Gregory de Caſſado, to conclude
Without the Kings will, or the States allowance,
A League betweene his Highneſſe, and Ferrara.

Suf. That out of meere Ambition, you haue cau'd
Your holy-Hat to be ſtampt on the Kings Coine.

Sur. Then, That you haue ſent innumerable ſubflance,
(By what means got, I leaue to your owne confidence)
To furniſh Rome, and to prepare the wayes
You haue for Dignities, to the meere vndoing
Of all the Kingdome. Many more there are,
Which ſince they are of you, and odious,
I will not raint my mouth with.

Cham. O my Lord,
Praſſe not a falling man too farre: t's Vertue:
His faults I ye open to the Lawes, let them
(Not you) correc't him. My heart weepes to ſee him
So little, of his great Selfe.

Sur. I forgiſe you.

Suf. Lord Cardinall, the Kings further pleaſure is,
Because all theſe things you haue done of late
By your power Legatiue within this Kingdome,
Fall into'th' compaſſe of a Premunire;
That therefore ſucha Writ be ſued againſt you,
To forfeit all your Goods, Lands, Tenements,
Caſſles, and whatſoever, and to be
Out of the Kings protection. This is my Charge.

Nor. And for wee'l leaue you to your Medications
How to liue better. For your ſubborne anſwer
About the giuing backe the Great Seale to vs,
The King ſhall know it, and (no doubt) ſhal thanke you.
So fare you well, my little good Lord Cardinall.

Exeunt all but Wolſey.

Wol. So farewell, to the little good you beare me.
Farewell? A long farewell to all my Greatneſſe.
This is the ſtate of Man; to day he puts forth
The tender Leagues of hopes, to morrow Bloſſomes,
And beares his bluſhing Honors thicke vpon him:
The third day, comes a Froſt; a killing Froſt,
And when he thinkes, good eafe man, full ſurely

223

His Greatneſſe is a ripening, nippes his roote,
And then he fals as I do. I haue ventur'd
Like little wanton Boyes that twm on bladders :
This many Summers in a Sea of Glory,

But farre beyond my depth: my high-blowne Pride
At length broke vnder me, and now ha's left me
Weary, and old with Seruice, to the mercy
Of a rude ſtreame, that muſt for euer hide me.

Vaine pompe, and glory of this World, I hate ye,
I feel my heart new open'd. Oh how wretched
Is that poore man, that hangs on Princes fauours?

There is betwixt that smile we would a ſpire too,
That sweet Aspect of Princes, and their ruine,
More pangs, and feares then warries, or women haue;
And when he falles, he falles like Lucifer,
Neuer to hope againe.

Enter Cromwell, standing amazed.

Why how now Cromwell?

Crom. I haue no power to ſpeak Sir.

Car. What, amaz'd

At my misfortunes ? Can thy Spirit wonder
A great man should decline. Nay, and you weep
I am false indeed.

Crom. How does your Grace.

Card. Why well :

Neuer so truly happy, my good Cromwell,
I know my ſelfe now, and I feele within me,
A peace aboue all earthy Dignities,

A still, and quiet Conſcience. The King ha's cur'd me,
I humbly thanke his Grace: and from these ſhoulders
The ſeuen ſur'd Pillers, out of pity, taken

A loade, would ſinke a Navy, (too much Honor.)
O'tis a burden Cromwell, 'tis a burden

Too heavy for a man, that hopes for Heauen.

Crom. I am glad your Grace,

Ha's made that right vfe of it.

Card. I hope I haue:

I am able now (me thinkes)

(Out of a Fortitude of Soule, I feele)

Toendure more Miferies, and greater farre

Then my Weake-hearted Enemies, dare offer.

What Newes abroad?

Crom. The heauieſt, and the worſt,

Is your diſpleasure with the King?

Card. God bleſſe him.

Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas Moore is choſen
Lord Chancellor, in your place.

Card. That's somewhat ſodain.

But he's a Learned man. May he continue
Long in his Highneſſe ſavour, and do Iuſtice

For Truths-fake, and his Conſcience; that his bones,
When he ha's run his course, and ſleepes in Bleſſings,
May haue a Tombe of Orphants teares wept on him,
What more?

Crom. That Craunmer is return'd with welcome ;

Infall'd Lord Arch-by ſhop of Canterbury,
Card. That's Newes indeed.

Crom. Laſt, that the Lady Anne,

Whom the King hath in ſecreie long married,
This day was view'd in open, as his Queene,
Going to Chappell; and the voyce is now
Oncely about her Coronation.

Card. There was the waight that pull'd me downe.
O Cromwell,

The King ha's gone beyond me: All my Glories
In that one woman, I haue loft for euer.

No Sun, shall euer vher forth mine Honors,
Or gilde againe the Noble Troopes that waighted
Vpon my ſmiles. Go get thee from me Cromwell,
I am a poore false man, vnworthy now
To be thy Lord, and Maſter. Seeke the King
(That Sun, I pray may neuer ſet) I haue told him,
What, and how true thou art; he will aduance thee :
Some little memory of me, will ſtirre him

(I know his Noble Nature) not to let
Thy hopefull ſeruice perſih too. Good Cromwell
Neglect him not; make vſe now, and prouide
For thine owne future fatety.

Crom. O my Lord,

Muſt I then leave you ? Muſt I neeces ſorgo

So good, so Noble, and so true a Maſter ?

Beare witneſſe, all that haue not hearts of Iron,
With what a ſorrow Cromwel leaues his Lord.

The King ſhall haue my ſeruice ; but my prayres
For euer, and for euer ſhall be yours.

Card. Cromwell, I did not thinke to ſhed a teare
In all my Miferies: But thou haſt ſore'd me
(Out of thy honest truth) to play the Woman.

Let's dry our eyes: And thus farre heare me Cromwell,
And when I am ſorgotten, as I ſhall be,

And ſleep in dull cold Marble, where no mention

Of me, more muſt be heard of: Say I taught thee;

Say Wolſey, that once tred the wayes of Glory,

And founded all the Depths, and Shoales of Honor,

Found thee a way (out of his wracke) to rife in :

A ſure, and fate one, though thy Maſter miſt it.

Matke but my Fall, and that that Ruin'd me:

Cromwell, I charge thee, ſling away Ambition,

By that ſinne ſell the Angels: how can man then

(The Image of his Maker) hope to win by it?

Loue thy ſelſe laſt, cheriſh those hearts that hate thee;
Corruption wins not more then Honeſtly.

Still in thy right hand, carry gentle Peace

To ſilence enuious Tongues. Be iuſt, and ſeare not;

Let all the ends thou aym'ſt at, be thy Countries,

Thy Gods, and Truths. Then if thou fall'ſt (O Cromwell)

Thou fall'ſt a bleſſed Martyr.

Serue the King: And prythee leade me in:

There take an Inuensity of all I haue,

To the laſt peny, 'tis the Kings. My Robe,

And my Integrity to Heauen, is all,

I dare now call mine owne. O Cromwell, Cromwell,

Had I but ſeru'd my God, with halſe the Zeale

I ſeru'd my King: he would not in mine Age

Haue left me naked to mine Enemies.

Crom. Good Sir, haue patience.

Card. So I haue. Farewell

The Hopes of Court, my Hopes in Heauen do dwell.
Exeunt.

Athus Quartus.

Scena Prima.

Enter two Gentlemen, meeting one another.

1 Y'are well met once againe.

2 So are you.

1 You come to take your ſtand heere, and behold
The Lady Anne, paffe from her Coronation.

2 'Tis

224

2 'Tis all my busineſſe. At our last encounter,
The Duke of Buckingham came from his Triall.

1 'Tis very true. But that time offer'd ſorrow,
This generall joy.

2 'Tis well: The Citizens
I am sure haue ſhewne at full their Royall minds,
As let'em haue their rights, they are euer forward
In Celebration of this day with Shewes,
Pageants, and Sights of Honor.

1 Neuer greater,
Nor leſſure you better taken Sir.

2 May I be bold to aske what that containes,
That Paper in your hand.

1 Yes, 'tis the Lift
Of those that claime their Offices this day,
By cuſtome of the Coronation.

The Duke of Suffolke is the first, and claimes
To be high Steward: Next the Duke of Norſtolke,
He to be Earle Marſhall: you may reade the reſt.

1 I thank you Sir: Had I not known those cuſtoms,
I should haue beene beholding to your Paper:
But I beſeech you, what's become of Katherine
The Princesſe Dowager? How goes her busineſſe ?

1 That I can tell you too. The Archbifhop
Of Canterbury, accompanied with other
Learned, and Reuerend Fathers of his Order,
Held a late Court at Dunſtable; ſix miles off
From Ampthill, where the Princesſe lay, to which
She was often cyted by them, but appear'd not:
And to be ſhort, for not Appearance, and
The Kings late Scruple, by the maine aſſent
Of all theſe Learned men, ſhe was diuor'd,
And the late Marriage made of none effect:
Since which, ſhe was remou'd to Kymmalton,
Where ſhe remaines now ſicke.

2 Alas good Lady.

The Trumpets found : Stand close,
The Queene is comming.

Ho-boyes.

The Order of the Coronation.

1 A liuely Flourish of Trumpets.

2 Then, two Indges.

3 Lord Chancellor, with Purſe and Mace before him.

4 Quirrifters ſinging. Muficke.

5 Maior of London, bearing the Mace. Then Garter, in
his Coats of Armes, and on his head he wore a Gilt Copper
Crowne.

6 Marquſe Dorſet, bearing a Scepter of Gold, on his head,
a Demy Coronall of Gold. With him, the Earle of Surrey,
bearing the Rod of Siluer with the Dove, Crowned with an
Earles Coronet. Collars of Eſſes.

7 Duke of Suffolke, in his Robe of Eſtate, his Coronet on his
head, bearing a long white Wand, as High Steward. With
him, the Duke of Norſtolke, with the Rod of Marſhaltship,
a Coronet on his head. Collars of Eſſes.

8 A Canopy, borne by ſoure of the Cinque-Ports, under it
the Queene in her Robe, in her haire, richly adorned with
Pearle, Crowned. On each ſide her, the Bishops of London,
and Wincheler.

9 The Olde Dutchefſe of Norſtolke, 'in a Coronall of Gold,
wrought with Flowers, bearing the Queenes Traine.

10 Certaine Ladies or Counteſſes, with plaine Cirelets of
Gold, without Flowers.

Exeunt, firſt passing over the Stage in Order and State, and
then, A great Flourish of Trumpets.

2 A Royall Traine beleeue me: Theſe I know:
Who's that that beares the Scepter?

1 Marquſe Dorſet,
And that the Earle of Surrey with the Rod.

2 A bold braue Gentleman. That ſhould beec
The Duke of Suffolke.

1 'Tis the fame: high Steward.

2 And that my Lord of Norſtolke?

1 Yes.

2 Heauen bleſſe thee,

Thou haſt the ſweeteſt face I euer look'd on.
Sir, as I haue a Soule, ſhe is an Angell;
Our King has all the Indies in his Armes,
And more, and richer, when he fitaines that Lady,
I cannot blame his Conſcience.

1 They that beare
The Cloath of Honour ouer her, are ſoure Barons
Of the Cinque-Ports.

2 Thoſe men are happy,
And ſo are all, are neere her.
I take it, ſhe that carries vp the Traine,
Is that old Noble Lady. Dutchefſe of Norſtolke.

1 It is, and all the reſt are Counteſſes.

2 Their Coronets ſay ſo. Theſe are Starres indeed,
And ſometimes falling ones.

2 No more of that.

Enter a third Gentleman.

1 God faue you Sir. Where haue you bin broiling?

3 Among the crow'd i'th'Abbey, where a finger
Could not be wedd'd in more: I am ſtifted
With the meere rankneſſe of their joy.

2 You ſaw the Ceremony?

3 That I did.

1 How was it?

3 Well worth the ſeeing.

2 Good Sir, ſpeake it to vs?

3 As well as I am able. The rich fireame
Of Lords, and Ladies, hauing brought the Queene
To a prepar'd place in the Quire, ſell off

A diſtance from her; while her Grace ſate downe
To reſt a while, ſome halſe an houre, or ſo,
In a rich Chaire of State, opposing freely
The Beauty of her Petfon to the People.

Beleeue me Sir, ſhe is the goodlieſt Woman
That euer lay by man : which when the people
Had the full view of, ſuch a noyſe aroſe.

As the ſhowdews make at Sea, in a ſtiffe Tempeſt,
As lowd, and to as many Tunes. Hats, Cloakes,
(Doublets, I thinke) ſ flew vp, and had their Faces
Bin loose, this day they had beene loſt. Such joy
I neuer ſaw before. Great belly'd women,
That had not halſe a weeke to go, like Rammes
In the old time of Warre, would ſake the preſale
And make 'em reele before 'em. No man liuing
Could ſay this is my wife there, all were wouen
So ſtrangely in one piece.

2 But what follow'd?

3 At length, her Grace roſe, and with modſet paces
Came to the Altar, where ſhe kneel'd, and Saint-like
Caf't her faſte eyes to Heauen, and pray'd deuoutly.
Then roſe againe, and bow'd her to the people :
When by the Arch-byſhop of Canterbury,
She had all the Royall makings of a Queene;
As holy Oyle, Edward Conſeſſors Crowne,
The Rod, and Bird of Peace, and all ſuch Emblemes

Laid Nobly on her which perform'd, the Quire

With

226

On that Celestiall Harmony I go too.

Sad and Solemne Musicke.

Grif. She is asleep: Good wench, let's fit down quiet,
For feare we wake her. Softly, gentle Patience.

## The Vifion.

Enter solemnly tripping one after another, fixe Personages,
clad in white Robes, wearing on their heads Garlands of
Bayes, and golden Wizards on their faces, Branchies of Bayes
or Palme in their hands. They firſt Conge unto her, then
Dance: and at certaine Changes, the firſt two hold a ſhare
Garland ouer her Head, at which the other ſoure make re-
uerend Curſies. Then the two that held the Garland, deli-
uer the ſame to the other next two, who obſerue the ſame or-
der in their Changes, and holding the Garland ouer her
head. Which done, they deliver the ſame Garland to the
laſt two: who likewife obſerue the ſame Order. At which
(as it were by inſpiration) ſhe makes (in her ſleepe) ſignes of
rejoycing, and holdeith up her hands to heauen. And ſo, in
their Dancing vanilh, carrying the Garland with them.
The Musickes continues.

Kath. Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all gone?
And leaue me heere in wretchedneſſe, behinde ye?

Grif. Madam, we are here.

Kath. It is not you I call for,

Saw ye none enter ſince I Slept?

Grif. None Madam.

Kath. No? Saw you not euen now a bleſſed Troope
Inuite me to a Banquet, whose bright faces

Cauf thousand beames vpon me, like the Sun?

They promis'd me eternall Happineſſe,

And brought me Garlands (Griffith) which I feele

I am not worthy yet to weare: I ſhall affuredly.

Grif. I am moſt joyfull Madam, ſuch good dreames

Poffeſſe your Fancy.

Kath. Bid the Musickes leaue,

They are harſh and heavy to me.

Musickes ceafes.

Pati. Do you note

How much her Grace is alter'd on the sodaine?

How long her face is drawne? How pale the looks,
And of an earthy cold? Marke her eyes?

Grif. She is going Wench. Pray, pray.

Pati. Heauen comfort her.

Pati. Heauen comfort her.

## Enter a Messanger.

Mef. And like your Grace—

Kath. You are a fawcy Fellow,

Deferue we no more Reuerence?

Grif. You are too blame,

Knowing the will not looke her wonted Greatneſſe

To vfe so rude behauiour. Go too, kneele.

Mef. I humbly do entreat your Highneſſe pardon,

My haſt made me vnmannerly. There is flaying

A Gentleman ſent from the King, to fee you.

Kath. Admit him entrance Griffith. But this Fellow
Let me ne're fee againe.
Exit Mefeng.

## Enter Lord Capuchius.

If my fight faile not,

You should be Lord Ambassador from the Emperor,

My Royall Nephew, and your name Capuchius.

Cap. Madam the fame. Your Servant.

Kath. O my Lord,

The Times and Tides now are alter'd flrangely
With me, ſince firſt you knew me.

But I pray you,

What is your pleafure with me?

Cap. Noble Lady,

First mine owne ſeruice to your Grace, the next
The Kings requeſt, that I would viſit you,

, Who greeues much for your weakneſſe, and by me
Sends you his Princely Commendations,
And heartily entreats you take good comfort.

Kath. O my good Lord, that comfort comes too late,
'Tis like a Pardon after Execution;
That gentle Phyſicke giuen in time, had cur'd me:
But now I am paſt all Comforts heere, but Prayers
How does his Highneſſe?

Cap. Madam, in good health.

Kath. So may he euer do, and euer flouriſh,
When I shall dwell with Wormes, and my poore name
Banifh'd the Kingdome. Patience, is that Letter
I cauſ'd you write, yet ſent away?

Pati. No Madam.

Kath. Sir, I moſt humbly pray you to deliver
This to my Lord the King.

Cap. Moſt willing Madam.

Kath. In which I haue commended to his goodneſſe
The Modell of our chaſte loues: his young daughter,
The dewes of Heauen fall thicke in Bleſſings on her,
Becleeching him to giue her vertuous breeding.

She is young, and of a Noble modell Nature,
I hope the will deferue well; and a little
To loue her for her Mothers ſake, that lou'd him,
Heauen knows how dec 寅

My next poore Petition,

Is, that his Noble Grace would haue some pittie
Vpon my wretched women, that ſo long
Haue follow'd both my Fortunes, faithfully,

Of which there is not one, I dare auow

(And now I ſhould not lye) but will deferue

For Vertue, and true Beauroe of the Soule,

For honeſtie, and decent Carriage

A right good Husband (let him be a Noble)

And ſure thofe men are happy that ſhall haue 'em.

The laſt is for my men, they are the pooreſt,

(But povertie could neuer draw 'em from me)

That they may haue their wages, duly paid 'em,

And ſomething ouer to remember me by.

If Heauen had pleas'd to haue giuen me longer life

And able meanes, we had not part'd thus.

These are the whole Contents, and good my Lord;
By that you loue the deereſt in this world,

As you wiſh Chriſtian peace to ſoules departed,
Stand theſe poore peoples Friend, and vge the King
To do me this laſt right.

Cap. By Heauen I will,

Or let me looke the fashion of a man.

Kath. I thanke you hones ſ Lord. Remember me
In all humilitie vnto his Highneſſe:

Say his long trouble now is paffing

Out of this world. Tell him in death I bled him

(For so I will) mine eyes grow dimme. Farewell

My Lord. Griffith farewell. Nay Patience,

You muſt not leaue me yet. I muſt to bed,

Call in more women. When I am dead, good Wench,
Let me be vs'd with Honor; I trew me ouer

With Maiden Flowers, that all the world may know
I was a chaſte Wifeto my Graue: Embalme me,
Then lay me forth (although vnqueen'd) yet like
A Queene, and Daughter to a King enterme me.

I can no more.

Exeunt leading Katherine.

Sev'n

227

Actus Quintus.

Scena Prima.

Enter Gardiner Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a Torch before him, met by Sir Thomas Lovell.

Gard. It's one a clocke Boy, is't not.

Boy. It hath Brooke.

Gard. These should be hours for necesities,
Not for delights: Times to repayre our Nature
With comforting repofe, and not for vs
To waste these times. Good houre of night Sir Thomas:
Whether so late?

Lov. Came you from the King, my Lord?

Car. I did Sir Thomas, and left him at Primero
With the Duke of Suffolk.

Lov. I muft to him too

Before he go to bed. Ile take my leane.

Gard. Not yet Sir Thomas Lovell: what's the matter?
It feemes you are in haft: and if there be
No great offence belongs too't, giue your Friend
Some touch of your late buſineſſe: Affairs that walke
(As they ſay Spirits do) at midnight, haue
In them a wilder Nature, then the buſineſſe
That keekes disſparch by day.

Lov. My Lord, I loue you;
And durſt commend a ſecret to your eare
Much waightier then this worke. The Queens in Labor
They ſay in great Extremity, and fear'd
Shee with the Labour, end.

Gard. The ſtruite ſhe goes with
Ipray for heartily, that it may finde
Good time, and liue: but for the Stocke Sir Thomas,
I wuſh it grubb'd vp now.

Lov. Methinkes I could
Cry the Amen, and yet my Conſcienc ſayes
Shee's a good Creature, and I ſweet-Ladie do's
Defuerce our better wishes.
Gard. But Sir, Sir,
Heare me Sir Thomas, y'are a Gentleman
Of mine owne way. I know you Wife, Religious,
And let me tell you, it will ne're be well,
I'will not Sir Thomas Lovell, tak't of me,
Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and ſhee
Sleepe in their Graues.

Lovell. Now Sir, you ſpeak e of two
The moſt remark'd i'th'Kingdome: as for Cromwell,
Befide that of the Iewell-Houſe, is made Maſter
O'th'Rolles, and the Kings Secretary. Further Sir,
S'ands in the gap and Trade of moe Preferments,
With which the Lime will loade him. Th'Archbſhop
Iſt e Kings hand, and tongue, and who dare ſpeak
One ſyllable againſt him?

Gard. Yes, yes, Sir Thomas,
There are that Date, and I my ſelfe haue ventur'd
To ſpeak my minde of him: and indeed this day,
Sir (I may tell it you) I thinke I haue
Incente the Lords o'th'Councell, that he is
(For ſo I know he is, they know he is)
A moſt Arch-Heretique, a Peſtillence
That does infect the Land: with which, they mouded
Haue broken with the King, who hath ſo farre
Guen e to our Complaint, of his great: Grace,
And Princely Care, fore-ſeeing that ſell Miſchieſes,

Our Reaſons layd before him, hath commanded
To morrow Morning to the Councell Boord
He be conuenced. He's a ranke weed Sir Thomas,
And we muſt root him out. From your Affaires
I hinder you too long: Good night, Sir Thomas.

Exit Gardiner and Page.

Lov. Many good nights, my Lord, I reſt your ſeruant,
Enter King and Suffolke.

King. Charles, I will play no more to night,
My minde not on't, you are too hard for me.

Stuff. Sir, I did neuer win of you before.

King. But little Charles,
Nor shall not when my Fancies on my play.

Now Lovell, from the Queene what is the Newes.

Lov. I could not personally deliuer to her
What you commanded me, but by her woman,
I ſent your Message, who return'd her thanks
In the great it humbleneſſe, and deſir'd your Highneſſe
Moſt heartily to pray for her.

King. What ſay'it thou? Ha?

To pray for her? What is the crying out?

Lov. So ſaid her woman, and that her ſuffrance made
Almoſt each pang, a death.

King. Alas good Lady.

Suf. God safely quit her of her Burthen, and
With gentle Trauaile, to the gladding of
Your Highneſſe with an Heire.

King. 'Tis midnight Charles,
Prythee to bed, and in thy Prayres remember
Th'estate of my poore Queene. Leaue me alone,
For I muſt thinke of that, which company
Would not be friendly too.

Suf. I wuſh your Highneſſe
A quiet night, and my good Miftris will
Remember in my Prayers.

King. Charles good night.
Well Sir, what followes?

Exit Suffolke.

Enter Sir Anthony Denny.

Den. Sir, I haue brought my Lord the Arch-bishop,
As you commanded me.

King. Ha? Canterbury?

Den. I my good Lord.

King. 'Tis true: where is he Denny?

Den. He attends your Highneſſe pleaſure.

King. Bring him to Vs.

Lov. This is about that, which the Byſhop ſpake,
I am happy come hither.

Enter Cranmer and Denny.

King. Auoyd the Gallery.
Ha? I haue ſaid, Be gone.

Lovell ſeemes to ſpray.

What?

Exeunt Lovell and Denny.

Cran. I am ſeaſe ſuſeul: Wherefore frownes he thus?

'Tis his Aspect of Terror. All's not well.

King. How now my Lord?

You do deſire to know wherefore
I ſent for you.

Cran. It is my dutie
To attend your Highneſſe pleaſure.

King. Pray you arife
My good and gracious Lord of Canterbury:
Come, you and I muſt walke a turne together.
I haue Newes to tell you.

Come, come, glue me your hand.
Ah my good Lord, I greeue at what I ſpeak,
And am right forrue to repeat what followes.
I haue, and moſt vnwillingly of late

x 2

Heard

228

Heard many greeneous. I do say my Lord
Greeuous complaints of you; which being confider'd,
Haue mou'd Vs, and our Councell, that you shall
This Morning come before vs, where I know
You cannot with such freedome purge your selfe,
But that till further Triall, in thofe Charges
Which will require your Anſwer, you muſt take
Your patience to you, and be well contented
To make your houſe our Towre: you, a Brother of vs
It fits we thus proceed, or eſſe no witneſſe
Would come againſt you.

Cran. I humbly thanke your Highneſſe,
And am right glad to catch this good occafion
Moſt throughly to be winnowed, where my Chaffe
And Corne ſhall flye aſunder. For I know
There's none ſtands vnder more calumnious tongues,
Then I my ſelfe, poore man.

King. Stand vp, good Canterbury,
Thy Truth, and thy Integrity is rooted
In vs thy Friend. G: ue me thy hand, ſtand vp,
Prythee let's walke. Now by my Holydame,
What manner of man are you? My Lord, I look'd
You would haue giuen me your Petition, that
I ſhouſd insue tane ſome paines, to bring together
Your ſelfe, and your Accuſers, and to haue heard you
Without indurance further.

Cran. Moſt dread Liege,
The good I ſtand on, is my Truth and Honetlie :
If they ſhall faile, I with mine Enemies
Will triumph o're my perſon, which I waigh not,
Being of thofe Vertues vacant. I feare nothing
What can be faid againſt me.

King. Know you not
How your ſtate ſtands i'th' world, with the whole world?
Your Enemies are many, and not ſmall; their præſtifes
Muſt beare the fame proportion, and not euer
The Iuſtice and the Truth o'th' queſtion carries
The dew o'th' Verdiſt with it; at what eafe
Might corrupt mindeſe procure, Knaues as corrupt
To ſweare againſt you: Such things haue bene done.
You are Potently oppoſ'd, and with a Malice
Of as great Size. Weene you of better lucke,
I meane in periut' d Witneſſe, then your Maſter,
Whofe Minifter you are, whiles heere he liu'd
Vpon this naughty Earth? Go too, go too,
You take a Precepit for no leape of danger,
And woe your owne deſtruſtion.

Cran. God, and your Maiety
Proteet mine innocence, or I fall into
The trap is laid for me.

King. Be of good cheere,
They ſhall no more p[ro]euaile, then we giue way too:
Keepe comfort to you, and this Morning fee
You do appeare before them. If they ſhall chance
In charging you with matters, to commit you:
The beſt perſwafions to the contrary
Faile not to vſe, and with what vehemencie
Th'occaſion ſhall inſtruct you. If intreaties
Will render you no remedy, this Ring
Deliver them, and your Appeale to vs
There make before them. Looke, the goodman weeps:
He's honeſt on mine Honor. Gods bleſt Mother,
I ſweare he is true-hearted, and a ſoule
None better in my Kingdome. Get you gone,
And do as I haue bid you.
Exit Cranmer.
He ha's strangled his Language in his teares.

Enter Olde Lady.

Gent. within. Come backe: what meane you?

Lady. Ile not come backe, the tydings that I bring
Will make my boldneſſe, manners. Now good Angel
Fly o're thy Royall head, and ſhade thy perſon
Vnder their bleſſed wings.

King. Now by thy lookes
I geſſe thy Meſſage. Is the Queene deliuer'd?
Say I, and of a boy.

Lady. I, I my Liege,
And of a louely Boy: the God of heauen
Both now, and euer bleſſe her : 'Tis a Gytle
Promiſes Boyes heereafter. Sir, your Queen
Deſires your Viſitation, and to be
Acquainted with this ſtranger; 'tis as like you,
As Cherry, is to Cherry.

King. Louell,

Lou. Sir.

King. Giue her an hundred Markes.

Ile to the Queene.

Exit King.

Lady. An hundred Markes? By this light, Ile haue more.
An ordinary Groome is for ſuch payment.
I will haue more, or I cold it out of him.
Said I for this, the Gytle was like to him? Ile
Haue more, or eſſe vnſay't: and now, while 'tis hot,
Ile put it to the ilſue.
Exit Luſe.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter (raumer, Archy) (hop of Canterbury.)

Cran. I hope I am not too late, and yet the Gentleman
That was ſent to me from the Councell, pray'd me
To make great haſt. All haſt? What meaneſ this? Hon
Who waites there? Sure you know me?

Enter Keeper.

Keep. Yes, my Lord:

But yet I cannot helpe you.

Cran. Why?

Keep. Your Grace muſt waight till you be call'd for.

Enter Deller Buts.

Cran. So.

Buts. This is a Peere of Malice: I am glad
I came this way so happily. The King
Shall vnderstand it p[re]fently.

Exit Bats.

Cran. 'Tis Buts.

The Kings Phyſitian, as he paſt along
How earneſtly he caſt his eyes vpon me:
Pray heauen he found not my diſgrace: for certaine
This is of purpofe laid by ſome that hate me,
(God turne their hearts, I neuer ſought their malice)
To quench mine Honor; they would ſhame to make me
Wait eſſe at doore: a fellow Councellor
'Mong Boyes, Groomes, and Lackeyears.
But their pleaſures
Muſt be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience.

Enter the King, and Buts, at a Window
above.

Buts. Ile ſhow your Grace the ſtrangeſt fight,
King. What's that Buts?

Bats.

229

Buts. I thinke your Highnesse faw this many a day.

Kin. Body a me: where is it?

Buts. There my Lord:

The high promotion of his Grace of Canterbury,
Who holds his State at dore 'mongft Purfeuants,
Pages, and Foot-boyes.

Kin. Ha ? 'Tis he indeed.

Is this the Honour they doe one another ?

Tis well there's one aboue 'em yet; I had thought
They had parted so much honefty among 'em,
At least good manners; as not thus to suffer
A man of his Place, and so neere our favour

To dance attendance on their Lord ship's pleafures.
And at the dore too, like a Poft with Packers :

By holy Mary (Buts) there's knauery;

Let 'em alone, and draw the Curtaine close :

We shall heare more anon.

A Councell Table brought in with Chayres and Stooles, and placed under the State. Enter Lord Chancellor, plases himselfe at the upper end of the Table, on the left hand: A State being left void above him, as for Canterburyes Seate. Duke of Suffolk, Duke of Norfolk, Surrey, Lord Cham-berlaine, Gardiner, feat themfelues in Order on each side. Cromwell at lower end, as Secretary.

Crom. Speake to the buſineſſe, M. Secretary;

Why are we met in Councell?

Crom. Pleafe your Honours,

The chieſe cauſe concerues his Grace of Canterbury.

Gard. Ha's he had knowledge of it?

Crom. Yes.

Norſ. Who waits there ?

Keep. Without my Noble Lords?

Gard. Yes.

Keep. My Lord Archbifhop :

And ha's done halſe an houre to know your pleaſures.

Chan. Let him come in.

Keep. Your Grace may enter now.

Grannar approches the Councell Table.

Chan. My good Lord Archbifhop, I'm very forfy

To ſe heere at this preſent, and behold

That Chayre ſtand empty: But we all are men.

In our owne natures fraile, and capable

Of our fleſh, few are Angelſt out of which frailty

And want of wifedome, you that beſt ſhould teach vs,
Hauſe midſmean'd your ſelſe, and not a little :

Toward the King firſt, then his Lawes, in ſilling

The whole Realme, by your teaching & your Chaplaines
(For ſo we are inform'd) with new opinions,

Diuers and dangerous; which are Hereſies ;

And not reform'd, may proue pernicious.

Gard. Which Reformation muſt be ſodaine too
My Noble Lords; for thate that tame wild Horses,
Pace 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle ;

But ſtop their mouthes with ſlubborn Bits & spurre 'em,
Till they obey the mannage. If we ſuffer

Out of our eafineſſe and childſh pitty

To one mans Honour, this contagious ſickneſſ;

Farewell all Phyſicke: and what followes then ?

Commotions, vprores, with a generall Taint

Of the whole State; as of late dayes our neighbours,

The vpper Germany can deereely witneſſe :

Yet freshly pittied in our memories.

Cran. My good Lords; Hitherto, in all the Progreſſe
Both of my Life and Office, I haue labour'd,
And with no little ſtudy, that my teaching

And the strong course of my Authority,
Might goe one way, and safely; and the end

Was euer to doe well: nor is there liuing,
(I speake it with a single heart, my Lords)

A man that more deteſts, more ſtirres againſt,
Both in his priuate Conſcience, and his place,
Defacers of a publique peace then I doe:

Pray Heauen the King may neuer find a heart
With Ieſſe Allegiance in it, Men that make
Enuy, and crooked malice, nourishment;

Dare bite the beſt. I doe beſeech your Lordſhips,
That in this cafe of Iuſtice, my Accuſers,
Be what they will, may ſtand forth face to face,
And freely vge againſt me.

Suff. Nay, my Lord,

That cannot be; you are a Counſellor,

And by that vertue no man dare accuſe you.

(ment,

Gard. My Lord, because we haue buſines of more mo-
We will be ſhort with you. 'Tis his Highneſſe pleaſure
And our conſent, for better tryall of you,
From hence you be committed to the Tower,
Where being but a private man againe,
You ſhall know many dare accuſe you boldly,
More then I (beare) you are prouided for.

Cran. Ah my good Lord of Wincheſſer: I thanke you,
You are always my good Friend, if your will paffe,
I ſhall both finde your Lordſhip, Judge and Juror,
You are ſo merciſull. I fee your end,

'Tis my vndoing. Loue and meekeneſſe, Lord
Become a Churchman, better then Ambition :
Win ſtraying Soules with modeſtly againe,

Cauſt none away: That I ſhall cleere my ſelſe,
Lay all the weight ye can vpon my patience,
I make as little doubt as you doe conſcience,

In doing dayly wrongs. I could ſay more,
But reue:ence to your calling, makes me modell.

Gard. My Lord, my Lord, you are a Sectary,
That's the plaine truth; your painted gloſſe disconers
To men that vnderstand you, words and weakneſſe.

Crom. My Lord of Wincheſſer, y'are a little,
By your good fauour, too ſharpe; Men ſo Noble,
How euer faulty, yet ſhould finde reſpect
For what they haue beene: 'tis a crueltie,
To load a falling man.

Gard. Good M. Secretary,
I cry your Honour mercie; you may work
Of all this Table ſay ſo.

Crom. Why my Lord?

Gard. Doe not I know you for a Fauourer
Of this new Sect ? ye are not found.

Crom. Not found?

Gard. Not found I ſay.

Crom. Would you were halſe ſo hones ſt:
Mens prayers then would ſeeke you, not their ſeares,

Gard. I ſhall remember this bold Language.

Crom. Doe.

Remember your bold life too.

Cham. This is too much;

Forbeare for thame my Lords.

Gard. I haue done.

Crom. And I.

Cham. Then thus for you my Lord, it stands agreed
I take it, by all voyces: That forthwith,

You be conuaid to th' Tower a Prisoner;

There to remaine till the Kings further pleaſure

Be knowne vnto vs: are you all agreed Lords.

All

230

All. We are.

Cran. Is there no other way of mercy,
But I must needs to th' Tower my Lords?

Gard. What other,

Would you expect? You are strangely troublesome:
Let some o'th' Guard be ready there.

Enter the Guard.

Cran. For me?

Must I goe like a Traytor thither?

Gard. Receive him,

And see him safe i'th' Tower,

Cran. Stay good my Lords,

I have a little yet to say. Looke there my Lords,

By vertue of that Ring, I take my caufe

Out of the gripes of cruell men, and giue it

To a most Noble Iudge, the King my Maister.

Cham. This is the Kings Ring.

Sur. 'Tis no counterfeit.

Suff. 'Tis the right Ring, by Heau'n: I told ye all,
When we first put this dangerous stone a rowling,
'Twold fall vpon our felues.

Norf. Do you thinke my Lords

The King will suffer but the little finger

Of this man to be vex'd?

Cham. 'Tis now too certaine;

How much more is his Life in value with him?

Would I were fairly out on't.

Crom. My mind gaue me,

In seeking tales and Informations

Against this man, whose honesty the Diuell

And his Difculpes onely enuy at,

Ye blew the fire that burnes ye: now haue at ye.

Enter King frowning on them, takes his Seats.

Gard. Dread Soueraigne,

How much are we bound to Heauen,

In dayly thankes; that gaue vs such a Prince;

Not onely good and wife, but most religious:

One that in all obedience, makes the Church

The cheefe ayme of his Honour, and to strengthen

That holy duty out of deare respect,

His Royall selfe in Iudgement comes to heare

The caufe betwixt her, and this great offender.

Kin. You were euer good at fodaine Commendations,

Bishop of Winchefter. But know I come not

To heare such flattery now, and in my prefence

They are too thin, and bafe to hide offences,

To me you cannot reach. You play the Spaniell.

And thinke with wagging of your tongue to win me:

But whatsoe thou tak'st me for; I'm fure

Thou haft a cruell Nature and a bloody.

Good man fit downe: Now let me fee the proudeft

Hee, that dares moft, but wag his finger at thee.

By all that's holy, he had better ftarue,

Then but once thinke his place becomes thee not,

Sur. May it please your Grace;—

Kin. No Sir, it doe's not please me,

I had though, I had had men of some vnderstanding,
And wifedome of my Councell; but I finde none:

Was it discretion Lords, to let this man,

This good man (few of you deferue that Title)

This honest man, wait like a lowfie Foot-boy

At Chamber dore? and one, as great as you are?

Why, what a name was this? Did my Commission

Bid ye so faire forget your felues? I gaue ye

Power, as he was a Counfellour to try him,

Not as a Groome: There's some of ye, I fee,
More out of Malice then Integrity,
Would trye him to the vtmoſt, had ye meane,
Which ye ſhall neuer haue while I liue.

Cham. Thus farre

My moſt dread Soueraigne, may it like your Grace,
To let my tongue excufe all. What was purpos'd
Concerning his Imprisonment, was rather
(If there be faith in men) meant for his Tryall,
And faire purgation to the world then malice,
I'm ſure in me.

Kin. Well, well my Lords respect him,
Take him, and vſe him well; hee's worthy of it.
I will ſay thus much for him, if a Prince
May be beholding to a Subieſt; I
Am for his loue and ſervice, to him.

Make me no more adoe, but all embrace him;

Be friends for ſhame my Lords: My Lord of Canterbury
I haue a Suite which you muſt not deny mee.

That is, a faire young Maid that yet wants Baptime,
You muſt be Godfather, and anſwere for her.

Cran. The greatest Monarch now alive may glory
In ſuch an honour: how may I deferue it,
That am a poore and humble Subieſt to you?

Kin. Come, come my Lord, you'd ſpare your ſpoones.
You shall haue two noble Partners with you: the old
Duchefſe of Norſolke, and Lady Marquſe Dorſet? will
theſe pleafe you?

Once more my Lord of Winchefter, I charge you
Embrace, and loue this man.

Gard. With a true heart,
And Brother, loue I doe it.

Cran. And let Heauen

Witneſſe how deare, I hold this Confirmation. (hearts)

Kin. Good Man, that ſoy full teares ſhew thy true

The common voyce I fee is verified

Of thee, which ſayes thus: Doe my Lord of Canterbury

A ſhrewd turne, and hee's your friend for euer:

Come Lords, we trifle time away: I long

To haue this young one made a Chriſtian.

As I haue made ye one Lords, one remaine:

So I grow ſtronger, you more Honour gaine.

Exequi.

## Scena Tertia.

Noyſe and Tumult within: Enter Porter and his man.

Port. You'll leaue your noyſe anon ye Rascals: doe you take the Court for Parish Garden: ye rude Slaves, leaue your gaping:

Within. Good M. Porter I belong to th' Larder.

Port. Belong to th' Gallowes, and be hang'd ye Rogues.
Is this a place to roare in? Fetch me a dozen Crab-trees
flaues, and strong ones; theſe are but switches to'em.
Ile scratch your heads; you muſt be seeing Christening.
Do you looke for Ale, and Cakes here, you rude
Raskalls?

Man. Pray Sir be patient; 'tis as much impoffible,
Vnleſſe wee (sweepe 'em from the dore with Cannons)
To ſcatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em sleepe
On May-day Morning, which will neuer be:
We may as well push againſt Powles as fire'em.

Por. How got they in, and be hang'd?

Mort.

231

Man. Alas I know not, how gets the Tide in ?
As much as one found Cudgell of foure foote,
(You fee the poore remainder) could distribute,
I made no spare Sir.

Port. You did nothing Sir.

Man. I am not Sampson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colebrand,
To mow 'em downe before me : but if I spard any
That had a head to hit, either young or old,
He or shee, Cuckold or Cuckold-maker :
Let me ne're hope to fee a China againe,
And that I would not for a Cow, God faue her.
Within. Do you heare M. Porter ?

Port. I shall be with you presently, good M. Pappy,
Keepe the dore clofe Sirha.

Man. What would you haue me doe ?

Por. What should you doe,

But knock 'em downe by th' dozens? Is this More fields
to mutter in? Or haue wee some ftrange Indian with the
great Toole, come to Court, the women so feſiege vs?
Bleſſe me, what a fry of Fornication is at dore ? On my
Chrifthan Conſcience this one Chriftening will beget a
thouſand, here will bee Father, God-father, and all to-
gether.

Man. The Spoons will be the bigger Sir: There is
a fellow somewhat neere the doore, he should be a Brafi-
er by his face, for o' my conſcience twenty of the Dog-
dayes now reigne in's Nofe; all that fand about him are
vnder the Line, they need no other pennance: that Fire-
Drake did I hit three times on the head, and three times
was his Nofe diſcharged againſt mee; hee ſtands there
like a Morter-piece to blow vs. There was a Habberda-
ſhers Wifc of ſmall wit, neere him, that rail'd vpon me,
till her pinck'd porrenger ſell off her head, for kindling
fuch a combustion in the State. I miſt the Meteor once,
and hit that Woman, who cryed out Clubbes, when I
might fee from ſarre, ſome forty Truncheons draw to
her ſuccour, which were the hope o' th' Strond where ſhe
was quartered; they ſell on, I made good my place; at
length they came to th' broome ſaffe to me, I defide 'em
ſtil, when ſodainly a File of Boyes behind'em, loose ſlot,
deluer'd ſuch a ſhowre of Pibbles, that I was faine to
draw mine Honour in, and let 'em win the Worke, the
Diuell was among't 'em I thinke ſurely.

Por. These are the youths that thunder at a Playhouſe,
and fight for bitten Apples, that no Audience but the
tribulation of Tower Hill, or the Limbes of Limcheouſe,
their deare Brothers are able to endure. I haue ſome of
'em in Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to dance
theſe three dayes; beſides the running Banquet of two
Beadles, that is to come.

Enter Lord Chamberlaine.

Cham. Mercy o' me: what a Multitude are heere ?
They grow ſill too; from all Parts they are comming,
As if we kepe a Faire heere? Where are theſe Porters ?
The ſe lazy knaues ? Y'haue made a fine hand ſellowes ?
Theres a trim rabble let in: are all theſe
Your faithfull friends o' th' Suburbs? We ſhall haue
Great ſtore of roome no doubt, left for the Ladies,
When they paffe backe from the Chriftening?

Por. And't pleafe your Honour,
We are but men; and what so many may doe,
Not being torne a pieces, we haue done :
An Army cannot rule 'em.

Cham. As I liue,
If the King blame me for't; Ile lay ye all

By th' heeles, and ſodainly: and on your heads
Clap round Fines for neglect: y'are lazy knaues,
And heere ye lye baiting of Bombards, when
Ye should doe Seruice. Harke the Trumpets found,
Th' are come already from the Chriftening,
Go breake among the preaſſe, and finde away out
To let the Troope paffe fairly; or Ile finde
A Marshallie, shall hoid ye play the theſe two Months.

Por. Make way there, for the Princesſe.

Man. You great fellow,
Stand cloſe vp, or Ile make your head ake.
Por. You i'ch' Chamblet, get vp o' th' raile,
Ile pecke you o're the pales elſe.
Excuse.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Trumpets founding: Then two Aldermen, L. Major, Garter, Cranmer, Duke of Norſolke with his Marshals Staſſe, Duke of Suffolke, two Noblemen, bearing great ſanding Bowles for the Chriftening Guffis: Then foure Noblemen bearing a Canopy, under which the Dutchefſe of Norſolke, Godmother, bearing the Childe richly habited in a Mantle, &c. Traine borne by a Lady: Then followes the Marshoneſſe Dorſet, the other Godmother, and La-dies. The Troope paffe once about the Stage, and Gart-er ſpeakes.

Gart. Heauen

From thy endleſſe goodneſſe, ſend proſperous life,
Long, and euer happie, to the high and Mighty
Princesſe of England Elizabeth.

Flourisſo. Enter King and Guard.

Cran. And to your Royall Grace, & the good Queen,
My Noble Partners, and my ſelfe thus pray
All comfort, ioy in this moſt gracious Lady,
Heauen euer laid vp to make Parents happy,
May hourly fall vpon ye.

Kin. Thanke you good Lord Archbifhop :

What is her Name ?

Cran. Elizabeth.

Kin. Stand vp Lord,
With this Kiffle, take my Bleſſing: God proteſt thee,
Into whose hand, I giue thy Life.

Cran. Amen.

Kin. My Noble Goffips, y'haue beene too Prodigall;
I thanke ye heartily : So ſhall this Lady,
When ſhe ha's ſo much English.

Cran. Let me ſpeake Sir,
For Heauen now bids me, and the words I ytter,
Let none thinke Flattery; for they'l finde 'em Truth,
This Royall Infant, Heauen ſtill moue about her;
Though in her Cradle; yet now promifes
Vpon this Land a thouſand thouſand Bleſſings,
Which Time ſhall bring to ripeneſſe: She ſhall be,
(But few now liuing can behold that goodneſſe)
A Patterne to all Princes liuing with her,
And all that ſhall ſucceed: Saba was neuer
More couetous of Wifedome, and faire Vertue
Then this pure Soule ſhall be. All Princely Graces
That mould vp ſuch a mighty Piece as this is,
With all the Vertues that attend the good,
Shall ſtill be doubled on her. Truth ſhall Nurse her,

Holy

Holy and Heavenly thoughts still Counsell her:
She shall be loud and fear'd, Her owne shall bleſſe her;
Her Foes ſnake like a Field of beaten Corne,
And hang their heads with ſorrow :

Good growes with her.

In her dayes, Every Man shall eate in safety,
Vnder his owne Vine what he plants; and ſing
The merry Songs of Peace to all his Neighbours.
God shall be truly knowne, and thofe about her,
From her ſhall read the perſect way of Honour,
And by thofe claime their greatneſſe; nor by Blood,
Nor ſhall this peace ſleepe with her: But as when
The Bird of Wonder dyes, the Mayden Phoenix,
Her Aſhes new create another Heyre,
As great in admiration as her ſelte.
So ſhall ſhe leaue her Bleſſedneſſe to One,
(When Heauen ſhal call her from this clowd of darknes)
Who, from the fac'd Aſhes of her Honour
Shall Star-like rife, as great in fame as ſhe was,
And ſo ſtand fix'd. Peace, Plenty, Loue, Truth, Terror,
That were the Seruants to this choſen Infant,
Shall then be his, and like a Vine grow to him;
Where euer the bright Sunne of Heauen ſhall ſhine,
His Honour, and the greatneſſe of his Name,
Shall be, and make new Nations. He shall flourifh,

And like a Mountaine Cedar, reach his branches,
To all the Plaines about him: Our Childrens Children
Shall fee this, and bleſſe Heauen.

Km. Thou speakeſt wonders.

Cran. She ſhall be to the happineſſe of England,
An aged Princesſſe; many dayes ſhall fee her,
And yet no day without a deed to Crowne it.
Would I had knowne no more: But ſhe muſt dye,
She muſt, the Saints muſt haue her; yet a Virgin,
A moſt vnſpotted Lilly ſhall ſhe paffe
To th' ground, and all the World ſhall mourne her.

Km. O Lord Archbifhop

Thou haſt made me now a man, neuer before
This happy Child, did I get any thing.
This Oracle of comiſort, ha's ſo pleas'd me,
That when I am in Heauen, I ſhall define
To fee what this Child does, and prieſe my Maker.
I thanke ye all. To you my good Lord Maior,
And you good Brethren, I am much beholding:
I haue recei'd much Honour by your preſence,
And ye ſhall find me thankfull. I lead the way Lords,
Ye muſt all fee the Queene, and ſhe muſt thanke ye,
She will be ſicke els. This day, no man thinke
'Has buſineſſe at his houſe; for all ſhall hay:
This Little-One ſhall make it Holy-day.
Excell.

THE EPILOGUE.

TIs ten to one, this Play can neuer please
All that are here: Some come to take their ease,
And ſleepe an Aſt or two; but thofe we feare
Whaue frighted with our Trumpets: ſo'tis cleare,
They'l ſay tis naught. Others to heare the City
Abus'd extreamly, and to cry that's witty,
Which wee haue not done neither, that I feare

All the expected good we are like to beare.
For this Play at this time, is only in
The mercieſull conſtruction of good women,
For ſuch a one we ſhew'd'em: If they ſmile,
And ſay twill doe; I know within a while,
All the beſt men are ours; for 'tis all hap,
If they hold, when their Ladies bid'em clap.

FINIS.

The Prologue.

INTroy there lies the Scene: From Iles of Greece
The Princes Orgillous, their high blood chaf'd
Haue to the Port of Athens sent their Shippes
Fraught with the minifters and instruments
Of cruell Warre: Sixty and nine that wore
Their Crownets Regall, from th' Athenian bay
Put forth toward Phrygia, and their vow is made
To ranſacke Troy, within whose strong emures
The rauiſh'd Helen, Menelaus Queene,
With wanton Paris ſleepes, and that's the Quarrell.
To Tenedos they come,
And the deepe-drawing Barke do there diſgorge
Their Warlike frautage: now on Dardan Plaines
The fresh and yet unbruſed Greekes do pitch
Their braue Pauillions. Priams ſix-gated City,
Dardan and Timbria, Helias, Chetas, Troien,
And Antenonidus with mafie Staples
And correfponsiue and fulfilling Bolts
Stirre up the Sonnes of Troy.

Now Expectation tickling skittish spirits,
On one and other side, Trojan and Greeke,
Sets all on hazard. And hither am I come,
A Prelogue arm'd, but not in confidence
Of Authors pen, or Actors voyce; but suited
In like conditions, as our Argument;
To tell you (faire Beholders) that our Play
Leapes ore the vaunt and firstlings of those broyles,
Beginning in the middle: starting thence away,
To what may be digested in a Play:
Like, or finde fault, do as your pleafures are,
Now good, or bad, 'tis but the chance of Warre.

THE TRAGEDIE OF
Troylus and Creſida.

Actus Primus. Scœna Prima.

Enter Pandarus and Troylus.

Troylus.

All here my Varlet, Ile vnname againe.
Why should I warre without the wals of Troy
That finde such cruell battell here within?
Each Trojan that is master of his heart,
Let him to field, Troylus alas hath none.

Pan. Will this geere nere be mended ?

Troy. The Greeks are ftrong, & ſkilful to their ſtrength,
Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceneſſe Valiant:
But I am weak: or then a womans teare ;
Tamer then ſleepe, ſonder then ignorance ;
Leſſe valiant then the Virgin in the night,
And ſkilleſſe as vnpractis'd Inſancio.

Pan. Well, I haue told you enough of this: For my part, Ile not meddle nor make no farther. Hee that will haue a Cake out of the Wheat, muſt needs tarry the grinding.

Troy. Haue I not tarried ?

Pan. I the grinding; but you muſt tarry the bolting.

Troy. Haue I not tarried ?

Pan. I the bolting; but you muſt tarry the leauing.

Troy. Still haue I tarried.

Pan. I, to the leauening: but heeres yet in the word hereafter, the Kneading, the making of the Cake, the heating of the Ouen, and the Baking; nay, you muſt flay the cooling too, or you may chance to buſe your lips.

Troy. Patience her ſelfe, what Goddeſſe ere the be,
Doth leſſer blench at ſufferance, then I doe:

At Priams Royall Table doe I fit ;

And when faire Creſſid comes into my thoughts,
So (Traitor) then ſhe comes, when ſhe is thence.

Pan. Well:

She look'd yeſternight fairer, then euer I faw her looke,
Or any woman ſelfe.

Troy. I was about to tell thee, when my heart,
As wedged with a ſigh, would rive in twaine,
Leaſt Heſſor, or my Father should perceiue me:
I haue (as when the Sunne doth light a ſcorne)
Buried this ſigh, in wrinkle of a ſmile:
But ſorrow, that is couch'd in feeming gladneſſe,
Is like that mirth, Fate turnes to ſudden ſadneſſe.

Pan. And her haire were not ſomewhat darker then
Helens, well go too, there were no more comparifon be-
tweene the Women. But for my part ſhe is my Kinſwo-
man, I would not (as they tearme it) præife it, but I wold

ſome-body had heard her talke yeſterday as I did: I will not diſpraife your ſiſter Caffandra's wit, but—

Troy. Oh Pandarus ! I tell thee Pandarus;
When I doe tell thee, there my hopes lye droun'd:
Reply not in how many Fadomes deepe
They lye indrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad
In Creſſids loue. Thou anſer't he is Faire,
Powr't in the open Vlcer of my heart,
Her Eyes, her Haire, her Cheeke, her Gate, her Voice,
Handleſt in thy diſconſe. O that her Hand
(In whose comparifon, all whites are Inke)
Writing their owne reproach; to whose ſoft ſeizure,
The Cignets Downe is harſh, and ſpirit of Senſe
Hard as the palme of Plough-man. This thou tellt me;
As true thou tell't me, when I fay I loue her:
But ſaying thus, inſtead of Oyle and Balme,
Thou lai't in euery gath that loue hath giuen me,
The Knife that made it.

Pan. I ſpeake no more then truth.

Troy. Thou do'ſt not ſpeake ſo much.

Pan. Faith, Ile not meddle in't: Let her be as ſhewe it if ſhe be faire, 'tis the better for her: and ſhe be not, the ha's the mends in her owne hands.

Troy. Good Pandarus: How now Pandarus?

Pan. I haue had my Labour for my trauell, ill thought
on of her, and ill thought on of you: Gone betweene and
betweene, but ſmall thankes for my labour.

Troy. What art thou angry Pandarus? what with me?

Pan. Because ſhe's Kinne to me, therefore ſhe's not
ſo faire as Helen, and ſhe were not kin to me, ſhe would
be as faire on Friday, as Helen is on Sunday. But what
care I? I care not and ſhe were a Black-a-Moore, 'tis al
one to me.

Troy. Say I ſhe is not faire?

Troy. I do not care whether you doe or no. Shee
Foole to ſtay behinde her Father: Let her to the Greeks,
and ſo Ile tell her the next time I ſee her: for my part, I
meddle nor make no more i'th'matter.

Troy. Pandarus ?

Pan. Not I.

Troy. Sweete Pandarus.

Pan. Pray you ſpeake no more to me, I will leave all
as I found it, and there an end.

Sound Alarum.

Tro. Peace you vngracious Clamors, peace rude found
Fooles on both sides, Helen muſt needs be faire,
When with your bloud you daily paint her thus,
I cannot fight vpon this Argument:

The Tragedie of Troylus and Crefida.

79

It is too far to a subiect for my Sword,
But Pandarus: O Gods ! How do you plague me?

I cannot come to Creffid but by Pandar,

And he's as teachy to be woo'd to woe,
As he is stubborn, chaft, against all suite.

Tell me Apollo for thy Daphne Loue

What Creffid is, what Pandar, and what we :

Her bed is India; there she lies, a Pearle,

Between our Illium, and where shee recides

Let it be cald the wild and wandring flood,
Our felle the Merchant, and this faying Pandar,
Our doubtfull hope, our conuy and our Barke

Alarum.

Enter Æneas.

Æne. How now Prince Troylus?

Wherefore not a field?

Troy. Because not there; this womans anſwer forſt.
For womanſh it is to be from thence:

What newes Æneas from the field to day?

Æne. That Paris is returned home, and hurt,

Troy. By whom Æneas?

Æne. Troylus by Menelaus,

Troy. Let Paris bleed, 'tis but a fear to ſcorne,

Paris is gor'd with Menelaus horne.

Alarum.

Æne. Harke what good ſport is out of Towne to day.

Troy. Better at home, if would I might were may :

But to the ſport abroad, are you bound thither ?

Æne. In all ſwift haſt.

Troy. Come goe wee then togher.

Exeunt.

Enter Creffid and her man.

Cre. Who were thofe went by?

Man. Queene Cecuba, and Hellenus.

Cre. And whether go they ?

Man. Vp to the Eafterne Tower,

Whole height commands as ſubject all the vaile,

To see the battell: Hector whose pacience,

Is as a Vertue fixt, to day was mou'd :

He chides Andromache and ſtrooke his Armorer, I

And like as there were husbandry in Warre

Before the Sunne roſe, hee was harnet lyte,

And to the field goe's he; where every flower

Did as a Prophet weepe what it forſaw,

In Hector's wrath.

Cre. What was his cauſe of anger?

Man. The noise goe's this;

There is among the Greekes,

A Lord of Trojan blood, Nephew to Hector,

They call him Aiax.

Cre. Good; and what of him?

Man. They ſay he is a very man per ſe and ſlands alone.

Cre. So do all men, vnleſſe they are drunke, ſicke, or
have no legges.

Man. This man Lady, harb rob'd many beaſts of their
particular additions, he is as valiant as the Lyon, churliſh
as the Beare, flow as the Elephant: a man into whom
nature hath ſo crowded humors, that his valour is cruſht
into folly, his folly ſauced with diſcretion: there is no
man hath a vertue, that he hath not a glimpſe of, nor a-
ny man an attaUNT, but he carries ſome ſtaine of it. He is
melancholy without cauſe, and merry againſt the haire,
hee hath the ioynts of euery thing, but euery thing ſo
into or ioynt, that hee is a gowtie Briareus, many hands
and no ſve; or purlbined Argus, all eyes and no ſight.

Cre. But how should this man that makes me ſmile,
make Hector angry?

Man. They ſay he yefterday cop'd Hector in the bat-
tell and ſtroke him downe, the diſdaind & ſhame where-

of, hath euer ſince kept Hector faſting and waking.
Enter Pandarus.

Cre. Who comes here ?

Man. Madam your Vncle Pandarus.

Cre. Hector's a gallant man.

Man. As may be in the world Lady.

Pan. What's that? what's that?

Cre. Good morrow Vncle Pandarus.

Pan. Good morrow Cozen Creſſid: what do you take
of good morrow Alexander: how do you Cozen? when
were you at Illium ?

Cre. This morning Vncle.

Pan. What were you talking of when I came? Was
Hector arm'd and gon ere yea came to Illium? Hellen was
not vp? was she ?

Cre. Hector was gone but Hellen was not vp?

Pan. E'ene ſo; Hector was stirring early.

Cre. That were we talking of, and of his anger.

Pan. Was he angry ?

Cre. So he faies here.

Pan. True he was ſo; I know the cauſe too, heele lay
about him to day I can tell them that, and there's Troylus
will not come farre behind him, let them take heede of
Troylus; I can tell them that too.

Cre. What is he angry too?

Pan. Who Troylus ?

Troylus is the better man of the two.

Cre. Oh Iupiter; there's no comparifon.

Pan. What not betweene Troylus and Hector? do you
know a man if you ſee him ?

Cre. I, if I euer faw him before and knew him.

Pan. Well I ſay Troylus is Troylus.

Cre. Then you ſay as I ſay,

For I am ſure he is not Hector.

Pan. No not Hector is not Troylus in ſome degrees.

Cre. 'Tis naſt, to each of them he is himſelfe.

Pan. Himſelfe? alas poore Troylus I would he were.

Cre. So he is.

Pan. Condition I had gone bare-foote to India.

Cre. He is not Hector.

Pan. Himſelfe? no not hee's not himſelfe, would a were
himſelfe: well, the Gods are aboue, time muſt friend or
end: well Troylus well, I would my heart were in her bo-
dy; no, Hector is not a better man then Troylus.

Cre. Excuse me.

Pan. He is elder.

Cre. Pardon me, pardon me.

Pan. Th'others not come too't, you ſhall tell me anoth
er tale when th'others come too't: Hector ſhall not
haue his will this yeare.

Cre. He shall not neede it if he haue his owne.

Pan. Nor his qualities.

Cre. No matter.

Pan. Nor his beautie.

Cre. 'Twould not become him, his own's better.

Pan. You haue no iudgement Neece; Hellen her ſelfe
ſwere th'other day, that Troylus for a browne ſauour (for
ſo 'tis I muſt conſeſſe) not browne neither.

Cre. No, but browne.

Pan. Faith to ſay truth, browne and not browne.

Cre. To ſay the truth, true and not true.

Pan. She prais'd his complexion aboue Paris.

Cre. Why Paris hath colour inough.

Pan. So he has.

Cre. Then Troylus should haue too much, if the pras'd
him aboue, his complexion is higher then his, he having
colour

colour enough, and the other higher, is too flaming a
praise for a good complexion, I had as licence Hellen's gol-
den tongue had commended Troylus for a copper note.

Pan. I weare to you,
I thinke Hellen loues him better then Paris.
Cre. Then shee's a merry Greekke indeed.

d'An. Nay I am sure she does, she came to him th'other
day into the compaft window, and you know he has not
paft three or foure haires on his chinne.

Cref. Indeed a Tapfters Arithmetique may foone
bring his particulars therein, to a totall.

Pand. Why he is very yong, and yet will he within
three pound lift as much as his brother Heffor.

Cref. Is he is so young a man, and so old a lifter?

Pan. But to prooue to you that Hellen loues him, she
came and puts me her white hand to his clouen chin.

Cref. Inno haue mercy, how came it clouen?

Pan. Why, you know 'tis dimpled,

I thinke his smying becomes him better then any man
in all Phrigia.

Cre. Oh he smiles valiantly.

Pan. Does hee not?

Cre. Oh yes, and'were a clow'd in Autumnne.

Pan. Why go to then, but to proue to you that Hellen
loues Troylus.

Cre. Troylus wil stand to thee

Proofe, if youle prooue it so.

Pan. Troylus? why he eſteemes her no more then I e-
ſteeme an addle egge.

Cre. If you loue an addle egge as well as you loue an
idle head, you would eate chickens i'th'shell.

Pan. I cannot chufe but laugh to thinke how ſhe tick-
led his chin, indeed ſhee has a maruel's white hand I muſt
needs conſeſſe.

Cre. Without the racke.

Pan. And ſhee takes vpon her to ſpie a white haire on
his chinne.

Cre. Alas poore chin? many a wart is richer.

Pand. But there was ſuch laughing, Queene Hecuba
laught that her eyes ran ore.

Cre. With Milſtones.

Pan. And Caſsandra laught.

Cre. But there was more temperate ſire vnder the pot
of her eyes: did her eyes run ore too?

Pan. And Heſtor laught.

Cre. At what was all this laughing?

Pand. Marry at the white haire that Hellen ſpied on
Troylus chin.

Cref. And t'had beene a greene haire, I should haue
laught too.

Pand. They laught not so much at the haire, as at his
pretty anſwere.

Cre. What was his anſwere?

Pan. Quoth ſhee, heere's but two and fifty haires on
your chinne; and one of them is white.

Cre. This is her queſtion.

Pand. That's true, make no queſtion of that, two and
ſſtie haires quoth hee, and one white, that white haire is
my Father, and all the reſt are his Sonnes. Imiter quoth
flie, which of theſe haires is Paris my husband? The for-
ked one quoth he, pluckt out and giue it him: but there
was ſuch laughing, and Hellen ſo bluſht, and Paris ſo
chaſt, and all the reſt ſo laught, that it paſſed.

Cre. So let it now,

For it has beene a great while going by.

Pan. Well Cozen,

I told you a thing yefterday, think on't.

Cre. So I does.

Pand. Ile be ſworne 'tis true, he will weepe you
an'twere a man borne in Aprill.
Sound are t'reate.

Cref. And Ile ſpring vp in his reares, an'twere a needle
againſt May.

Pan. Harke they are comming from the field, ſhal we
ſand vp here and ſee them, as they paffe toward Ilium,
good Neece do, ſweet Neece Crefida.

Cre. At your pleasure.

Pan. Heere, heere, here's an excellent place, here we
may ſee moſt braely, Ile tel you them all by their names,
as they paffe by, but marke Troylus aboue the reſt.

Enter Aeneas.

Cre. Speake not so low'd.

Pan. That's Aeneas, is not that a braue man, hee's one
of the flowers of Troy I can you, but merke Troylus, you
ſhal ſee anon.

Cre. Who's that?

Enter Antenor.

Pan. That's Antenor, he has a ſhow'd w'it I can tell
you, and hee's a man good inough, hee's one of th'ou-
ded iudgement in Troy whoſoever, and a proper man of
person: when comes Troylus ? Ile ſhow you Troylus anon,
if hee ſee me, you ſhal ſee him him nod at me.

Cre. Will he gie you the nod?

Pan. You ſhall ſee.

Cre. If he do, the rich ſhall haue, more.

Enter Heffor.

Pan. That's Heſtor, that, that, looke you, that there's
ſellow. Goe thy way Heſtor, there's a braue man Neece,
O braue Heſtor ! Looke how hee lookses there's a coun-
tenance; iſt not a braue man?

Cre. O braue man!

Pan. Is a not? It dooes a mans heart good, looke you
what hacks are on his Helmer, looke you yonder, do you
ſee? Looke you there? There's no iſeſting, laying on, tak-
off, who ill as they ſay, there be hacks.

Cre. Be thate with Swords?

Enter Paris.

Pan. Swords, any thing he cares not, and the diuel
come to him, it's all one, by Gods lid it dooes ones heart
good. Yonder comes Paris, yonder comes Paris. Looke
yee yonder Neece, iſt not a gailant man to, iſt not? Why
this is braue now: who ſaid he came hurt home to day?
Hee's not hurt, why this will do Hellen's heart good
now, ha? Would I could ſee Troylus now, you ſhall Tr-
lus anon.

Cre. Whoſe that?

Enter Hellenus.

Pan. That's Hellenus, I maruell where Troyus is, that's
Helenus, I thinke he went not forth to day; that's Hel-
lenus.

Cre. Can Hellenus fight Vncle?

Pan. Hellenus no: yes heele fight indifferently, well,
maruell where Troylus is; harke, do you not haere the
people crie Troylus? Hellenus is a Prietau.

Cre. What ſneaking fellow comes yonder?

Enter Trylus.

Pan. Where? Yonder? That's Daphobus. 'Tis Try-
lus! Ther's a man Neece, hem? Braue Troylus, the Prince
of Chiuallie.

Cre. Peace, for ſhame peace.

Pan. Marke him, not him; O braue Troylus! looke
well upon him Neece, looke you how his Sword is bloo-
died, and his Helme more hackt then Heſtors, and how he
lookes,

Troylus and Crefida.

lookes, and how he goes. O admirable youth! he ne're
saw three and twenty. Go thy way Troylus, go thy way,
had a fister were a *Grace*, or a daughter a Goddiffe, hee
should take his choice. O admirable man! *Paris*? *Paris*
is durt to him, and I warrant, *Helen* to change, would
give money to boot.

Enter common Souldiers.

Cref. Heree come more.

Pan. Aflées, fooles, dolts, chaffe and bran, chaffe and bran; porfредge after meat. I could liue and dye i'th'eyes of Troylus. Ne're looke, ne're looke ; the Eagles are gon, Crowes and Dawes, Crowes and Dawes: I had rather be a fuch a man as *Troylus*, then *Agamemnon*, and all Greece.

Cref. There is among the Greekes *Achilles*, a better man then *Troylus*.

Pan. *Achilles*? a Dray-man, a Porter, a very Camell.

Cref. Well, well.

Pan. Well, well? Why haue you any discretion? Phaue you any eyes? Do you know what a man is? Is not birth, beauty, good shape, discourse, manhood, learning, gen-
tlenesse, vertue, youth, liberality, and so forth : the Spice, and salt that season a man?

Cref. I a mine'd man, and then to be bak'd with no Date in the pyc, for then the mans dates out.

Pan. You are such another woman, one knowes not at what ward you lye.

Cref. Vpon my backe, to defend my belly; vpon my wit, to defend my wiles; vpon my fecrecy, to defend mine honesty; my Maske, to defend my beauty, and you to defend all thefe : and at all theſe wardes I lye at, at a thousand watches.

Pan. Say one of your watches.

Cref. Nay Ile watch you for that, and that's one of the cheeftes of them too: If I cannot ward what I would not haue hit, I can watch you for telling how I took the blow, vnleſſe it ſwell paſſ hiding, and then it's paſſ wat-
ching.

Enter Boy.

Pan. You are such another.

Boy. Sir, my Lord would instantly ſpeake with you.

Pan, Where?

Boy. At your owne house.

Pan. Good Boy tell him I come, I doubt he bee hurt.
Fare ye well good Neece.

Cref. Adien Vnkle.

Pan. Ile be with you Neece by and by.

Cref. To bring Vnkle.

Pan. I, a token from *Troylus*.

Cref. By the fame token, you are a Bawd. Exit Pand.
Words, vowes, gifts, teares, & loues full sacrifice,
Heoffers in anothers enterprize :

But more in *Troylus* thousand fold I see,

Then in the glaſſe of *Pandar's* praise may be;

Yet hold I off. Women are Angels wooing,

Things won are done, ioyes foule lyes in the dooing :

That he belou'd, knowes nought, that knowes not this;

Men prize the thing vngain'd, more then it is.

That he was neuer yet, that euer knew

Loue got ſo (weet, as when deſire did ſue :

Therefore this maxime out of loue I teach :

"Atchieuement, is command; vngain'd, beſecch.

That though my hearts Contents firme loue doth beare,

Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appeare. Exit.

Senet. Enter *Agamemnon*, *Nestor*, *Vllyſes*, *Diomedes*, *Menelaeus*, with others.

Agam. Princes:

What greene hath fet the Iaundies on your checkes ?

The ample proposition that hope makes

In all defignes, begun on eath below

Fayles in the promit largeneſſe: checkes and diſaſters

Grow in the veines of actions highest year'd.

As knots by the conflux of meeting lap,

Inſect the found Pine, and diuerts his Graine

Tortiue and erant from his courſe of growth.

Not Princes, is it matter new to vs,

That we come ſhort of our ſuppofe so farre,

That after ſeuen yeares ſiege, yet Troy walles ſtand,

Sith euery action that hath gone before,

Whereof we haue Record, Triall did draw

Bias and thwart, not anſwering the ayme :

And that vnbodied figure of the thought

That gaue't ſurmiſed ſhape. Why then (you Princes)

Do you with cheekes abaſh'd, behold our workes,

And thinke them ſhame, which are (indeed) nought eſſe

But the protraſtive trials of great Ione,

To finde perſſiue conſtancie in men ?

The ſineneſſe of which Mettall is not found

In Fortunes loue : for then, the Bold and Coward,

The Wife and Foole, the Artiſt and vn-read,

The hard and soft, ſeeme all aſſin'd, and kin.

But in the Winde and Tempeſt of her ſrowne,

Distinſtion with a lowd and powrreſſul fan,

Puffing at all, winnowes the light away ;

And what hath maffe, or matter by it ſelſe,

Lies rich in Vertue, and vnmingled.

Nestor. With due Obſeruance of thy godly ſeat,
Great *Agamemnon*, *Nestor* shall apply.

Thy laſtεt words.

In the reproofe of Chance,

Lies the true proofe of men: The Sea being ſmooth,

How many ſhallow bauble Boates dare ſaile

Vpon her patient breſt, making their way

With thofe of Nobler bulke?

But let the Ruffian *Boreas* once enragre

The gentle *Thetis*, and anon behold

The ſtrong ribb'd Barke through liquid Mountaines eut,

Bounding betweene the two moyſt Elements

Like *Perſons* Horſe. Where's then the ſawcy Boate,

Whofe weake vntimber'd ſides but euen now

Co-riual'd Greateneſſe ? Either to harbour ſled,

Or made a Toſte for Neptune. Euen so,

Doth valours ſhow, and valours worth diuide

In ſtormes of Fortune.

For, in her ray and brighteneſſe,

The Heard hath more annoyance by the Brieze

Then by the Tyger : But, when the ſplicit winde

Makes flexible the knees of knotted Oakes,

And Flies ſled vnder ſhade, why then

The thing of Courage,

As rowz'd with rage, with rage doth sympathize,

And with an accent tun'd in ſelſe-fame key,

Retyres to chiding Fortune.

Vlſes. *Agamemnon*.

Thou great Commander, Nereu, and Bone of Greece,

Heart of our Numbers, ſoule, and onely ſpirit,

In whom the tempers, and the mindeſs of all

Should be ſhut vp : Heare what Vllyſes ſpeakes,

Befides the applaſe and approbation

The which moſt mighty for thy place and ſway,

And

["Troylus and Crefida.", "And thou moft reuerend for thy stretch-out life,\nI guie to both your speeches: which were such,", "As *Agamemnon* and the hand of Greece", "Should hold vp high in Braſſe: and ſuch againe.", "As venerable Neſtor (hatch'd in Silver)", "Should with a bond of ayre, strong as the Axletree", "In which the Heauens ride, knit all Greekes eares\nTo his experienc'd tongue: yet let it pleafe both", "(Thou Great, and Wife) to heare Vlyſſes ſpeak.", "Aga. Speak Prince of Ithaca, and bet of leſſe expect:", "That matter needleſe of imporſtelle burthen", "Duide thy lips; then we are confident", "When ranke Ther ſites opes his Maſſicke iawes,", "We ſhall heare Muſſicke, Wit, and Oracle.", "Vlyſ. Troy yet upon his basiſ had bene downe,", "And the great Hectors ſword had lack'd a Maſter\nBut for theſe inſtances,", "The ſpecialty of Rule hath beene negleſt ed;", "And looke how many Grecian Tents do ſtand", "Hollow vpon this Plaine, ſo many hollow Faſtions.", "When that the Generall is not like the Hiuе,", "To whom the Forragers ſhall all repaire,", "What Hony is expected? Degree being vizard,ed,", "Th' vnworthieſt ſhewes as fairly in the Maske.", "The Heauens themselves, the Planets, and this Center,", "Obferue degree, priority, and place,", "Inſiſture, courſe, proportion, ſeafon, forme,", "Office, and cuſtome, in all line of Order:", "And therefore is the glorious Planet Sol", "In noble eminence, enthron'd and ſphear'd", "Amidst the other, whoſe med'cinable eye", "Corrects the ill Aſpect of Planets euill,", "And poſſes like the Command'ment of a King,", "Sans checke, to good and bad. But when the Planets", "In euill mixture to disorder wander,", "What Plagues, and what poſtents, what mutiny?", "What raging of the Sea? ſhaking of Earth?", "Comotion in the Windes? Frights, changes, horrors,", "Diuert, and cracke, rend and deracinate", "The vnity, and married calme of States", "Quite from their ſture? O, when Degree is ſhak'd,\n(Which is the Ladder to all high deſignes)", "The enterprize is ſicke. How could Communities,", "Degrees in Schooles, and Brother-hoods in Cities,", "Peacefull Commerce from diuیدable ſhores,", "The primogenitiuſe, and due of Byrth,", "Prerogatiuſe of Age, Crownes, Scepters, Lawreis,", "(But by Degree) ſtand in Authentique place?", "Take but Degree away, vn-tune that ſtring,", "And hearie what Diſcord followes: each thing meetes", "In meere oppugnancie. The bounded Waters,", "Should lift their boſomes higher then the Shores,", "And make a ſoppe of all this ſolid Globe:", "Strength should be Lord of imbecility,", "And the rude Sonne should ſtrike his Father dead:", "Force should be right, or rather, right and wrong,", "(Betweene whoſe endleſſe iarre, Iuſtice recides)", "Should loofe her names, and ſo should Iuſtice too.", "Then every thing includes it ſelfe in Power,", "Power into Will, Will into Appetite,", "And Appetite (an vnviuerall Wolfe,", "So doubly ſeconded with Will, and Power)", "Muſt make perſence an vnviuerall prey,", "And laſt, eate vp himſelfe.", "Great Agamemnon:", "This Chaos, when Degree is ſuffocate,", "Followes the choaking:", "And this negleſtion of Degree, is it", "That by a pace goes backward in a purpofe", "It hath to climb. The Generall diſdain'd", "By him one ſtep below; he, by the next,", "That next, by him beneath: ſo every ſtep", "Exampl'd by the firſt pace that is ſicke", "Of his Superiour, growes to an enuious Feauer", "Of pale, and bloodleſſe Emulation.", "And 'tis this Feauer that keepes Troy on foote,", "Not her owne ſinewes. To end a tale of length,", "Troy in our weakneſſe liues, not in her ſtrength.", "Neſt. Moſt wifely hath Vlyſſes heere diſcouer'd", "The Feauer, whereof all our power is ſicke.", "Aga. The Nature of the ſickneſſe found (Vlyſſe)\nWhat is the remedie?", "Vlyſ. The great *Achilles*, whom Opinion crowne,", "The finew, and the fore-hand of our Hofte,", "Hauing his eare full of his aery Fame,", "Growes dainty of his worth, and in his Tent", "Lyes mocking our deſignes. With him, *Patroclus*,", "Vpon a lazie Bed, the hue-long day", "Breakes ſeurill Jeſts,", "And with ridiculous and aukward action,", "(Which Slanderer, he imitation call's)", "He Pageants vs. Sometime great *Agamemnon*,", "Thy topleſſe deputation he puts on;", "And like a ſtrutting Player, whoſe conceit", "Lies in his Ham-string, and doth thinke it rich", "To heare the woodeen Dialogue and ſound", "Twixt his stretcht footing, and the Scaffolage,", "Such to be pittied, and ore-refed ſeeming", "He acts thy Greatneſſe in: and when he ſpeakes,", "Tis like a Chime a mending. With tearmes vnſiuer'd,", "Which from the tongue of roaring *Typhon* dropt,", "Would ſeemes Hyperboles. At this ſuſy (ſuffe),", "The large *Achilles* (on his preſt-bed lolling)", "From his deepe Cheſt, laughs out a lowd applaſe,", "Cries excellent, 'tis *Agamemnon* iuſt.", "Now play me Neſtor; hum, and ſtroke thy Beard", "As he, being dreft to ſome Oration:", "That's done, as neere as the extreameſt ends", "Of paralets; as like, as *Vulcan* and his wife,", "Yet god *Achilles* ſill cries excellent,", "Tis Neſtor right. Now play him (me) *Patroclus*,", "Arming to anſwer in a night-Alarme,", "And then (forſooth) the faint deſects of Age", "Muſt be the Scene of myrth, to cough, and ſpit,", "And with a palfre ſumbling on his Gorget,", "Shake in and out the Riuet: and at this ſport", "Sir Valour dies; cries, O enough *Patroclus*,", "Or, giue me ribs of Steele, I ſhall ſplit all", "In pleasure of my ſpleene. And in this ſtashion,", "All our abilities, gifts, natures, ſhapes,", "Seueral's and generals of grace exact,", "Atchieuments, plots, orders, preuentions,", "Excitements to the field, or ſpeech for truce,", "Succeſſe or loſſ

Troylus and Cressida.

Bold as an Oracle, and lets Thersites

A flaue, whole Gall-coiney flanders like a Mint,
To match vs in comparifons with durt,
To weaken and dis credit our expofure,
How ranke ſouer rounded in with danger.

Vlſ. They taxe our policy, and call it Cowardice,
Count Wifedome as no member of the Warre,
Fore-stall prefciencie, and eſſeme no aſte
But that of hand : The ſtill and mentall parts,
That do contriue how many hands ſhall ſtrike
When ſinſeſſe call them on, and know by meaſure
Of their obſeruant toyle, the Enemites waight,
Why this hath not a fingers dignity:
They call this Bed-worke, Mapp'ry, Cloſſer-Warre :
So that the Ramme that batters downe the wall,
For the great ſwing and rudenſeſſe of his poize,
They place before his hand that made the Engine,
Or thate that with the finenſeſſe of their ſoules,
By Reaſon guide his execution.

Neſt. Let this be granted, and Achilles horſe.

Makes many Theſis tonnes.

Tucker

Aga. What Trumpet? Looke Menelaus.

Men. From Troy.

Enter Æneas.

Aga. What would you ? fore our Tent ?

Æne. Is this great Agamemnons Tent, I pray you?

Aga. Euen this.

Æne. May one that is a Herald, and a Prince,

Doa faire meſſage to his Kingly eares?

Aga. With ſurecy ſtronger then Achilles arme,
Fore all the Greekisſh heads, which with one voyce
Call Agamemnon Head and Generall.

Æne. Faire leaue, and large ſecurity. How may
A ſtranger to thate moſt Imperial lookes,
Know them from eyes of other Mortals ?

Aga. How?

Æne. I: I aske, that I might waken Reuerence,
And on the checke be ready with a bluſh
Modeſt as morning, when the coldly eyes
The youthfull Phœbus :
Which is that God in office guiding men?

Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon ?

Aga. This Troyan ſcornes vs, or the men of Troy

Are ceremonious Courtiers.

Æne. Courtiers as free, as debonnaire ; vnarm'd,
As bending Angels : that's their Fame, in peace :
But when they would ſeeme Souldiers, they haue galles,
Good armes, ſtrong Ioynts, true ſwords, & loues accord,
Nothing ſo full of heart. But peace Æneas,

Peace Troyan, lay thy finger on thy lips,
The worthineſſe of præife Biftaines his worth :

If that he prais'd himſelfe, bring the præife forth.

But what the repining enemy commends,

That breath Fame blowes, that præife ſole pure tranſcends.

Aga. Sir, you of Troy, call you your ſelſe Æneas ?

Æne. I Greeke, that is my name.

Aga. What's your affayre I pray you ?

Æne. Sir pardon, 'tis for Agamemnons cares.

Aga. He heares nought privately

That comes from Troy.

Æne. Nor I from Troy, come not to whisper him,
Ibring a Trumpet to awake his ſelfe,
To fet his ſence on the attentive bent,
And then to ſpeake.

Aga. Speake frankly as the winde,

It is not Agamemnons ſleeping horne;

That thou ſhalt know Troyan he is awake,

He tels thee: ſo himſelfe.

Æne. Trumpet blow loud,
Send thy Braſſe voyce through all theſe Iazie Tents,
And every Greeke of mettle, let him know,
What Troy meaneſs fairly, ſhall be ſpoke alow.

The Trumpets found.

We have great Agamemnon heere in Troy,

A Prince calld Hector, Priam is his Father :

Who in this dull and long-continew'd Truce

Is ruity growne. He bad me take a Trumpet,

And to this purpofe ſpeake : Kings, Princes, Lords,

If there be one among it the ſayr't of Greece,

That holds his Honor higher then his eafe,

That ſeekes his præife, more then he ſeares his perill,

That knowes his Valour, and knowes not his ſeare,

That loues his Miftris more then in confession,

(With truant rowes to her owne lips he loues)

And dare avow her Beauty, and her Worth,

In other armes then hers: to him this Challenge.

Hector, in view of Troyans, and of Greekeſs,

Shall make it good, or do his beſt to do it.

He hath a Lady, wiser, fairer, truer,

Then euer Greeke did compaſſe in his armes,

And will to morrow with his Trumpet call,

Midway betweene your Tents, and walles of Troy,

To rowze a Grecian that is true in loue.

If any come, Hector that honout him :

If none, hee lay in Troy when he reyres,

The Grecian Dames are ſun-burnt, and not worth

The ſplinter of a Lance : Euen ſo much.

Aga. This ſhall be told our Louers Lord Æneas,
If none of them haue ſoule in ſuch a kinde,

We left them all at home : But we are Souldiers,

And may that ſoildier a meere recreant proue,

That meanes not, hath not, or is not in loue :

If then one is, or hath, or meanes to be,

That one meets Hector; if none eſſe, Ile be he.

Neſt. Tell him of Neſtor, one that was a man

When Hectors Grandfire fuckt : he is old now,

But if there be not in our Grecian mould,

One Noble man, that hath one ſparkloſe ſire

To anſwer for his Loue; tell him from me,

He hide my Siluer beard in a Gold Baueur,

And in my Vantbrace put this wither'd brawne,

And meeting him, wil tell him, that my Lady

Was ſayrer then his Grandame, and as chafte

As may be in the world : his youth in flood,

Ile pawne this truth with my three drops of blood.

Æne. Now heauens forbid ſuch ſcarſitie of youth,

Vlſ. Amen.

Aga. Faire Lord Æneas,

Let me touch your hand :

To our Pauilion ſhal I leade you ſiſt :

Achilles ſhall haue word of this intent,

So ſhall each Lord of Greece from Tent to Tent

Your ſelſe ſhall Feast with vs before you goe,

And finde the welcome of a Noble Foe.

Exeunt.

Manet Vlſſes, and Neſtor.

Vlſ. Neſtor.

Neſt. What ſayes Vlſſes ?

Vlſ. I haue a young conception in my brains,

By you my time to bring it to ſome ſhape.

Neſt. What is't?

Vlſſes. This 'tis:

Blunt wedges rive hard knots: the ſeemed Pride

That hath to this maturity blowne vp

In

Troylus and Cresida.

In ranke *Achilles*, muſt or now be cropt,
Or shedding breed a Nurſery of like euil
To ouer-baſe vs all.

Neſt. Wel, and how?

*Vlyſs.* This challenge that the gallant *Hector* ſends,
How euer it is ſpred in general name,
Relates in purpose only to *Achilles*.

Neſt. The purpose is perſpicuous euens as ſubſtance,
Whole groſſenſe little charaſters ſumme vp,
And in the publication make no ſtraine,
But that *Achilles*, were his braine as barren
As bankes of Lybia, though (*Apollo* knowes)
'Tis dry enough, wil with great ſpeede of iudgement,
I, with celersity, finde *Hectors* purpose
Pointing on him.

*Vlyſs.* And wake him to the anſwer, thinke you?

Neſt. Yes, 'tis moſt meet; who may you eſſe oppoſe
That can from *Hector* bring his Honor off,
If not *Achilles*; though it be a ſportfull Combate,
Yet in this triall, much opinion dwels.
For heere the Troyans taſte our deer ſt repute
With their fin't Pallate: and truſt to me *Vlyſſes*,
Our imputation ſhall be oddly poiz'd
In this wilde action. For the ſucceſſe
(Although particular) ſhall giue a ſcantling
Of good or bad, vnto the Generall :
And in ſuch Indexes, although ſmall prickes
To their ſubſquent Volumes, there is ſene
The baby figure of the Gyant-maſſe
Of things to come at large. It is ſuppos'd,
He that meets *Hector*, iſſues from my choyſe;
And choife being mutuall aſte of all our ſoules,
Makes Merit her election, and doth boyle
As 'twere, from ſorth vs all: a man diſtill'd
Out of our Vertues; who miſcarrying,
What heart from hence receyues the conqu'ring part
To ſteele a ſtrong opinion to them ſelues,
Which entertain'd, Limbes are in his inſtruments,
In no leſſe working, then are Swords and Bowes
Directiue by the Limbes.

*Vlyſs.* Gue pardon to my ſpeech:
Therefore 'tis meet, *Achilles* meet not *Hector*:
Let vs (like Merchants) ſhew our fowleft Wares,
And thinke perchance they'l ſell: If not,
The laſter of the better yet to ſhew,
Shall ſhew the better. Do not conſent,
That euer *Hector* and *Achilles* meete:
For both our Honour, and our Shame in this,
Are dogg'd with two ſtrange Followers.

Neſt. I ſee them not with my old cies: what are they?

*Vlyſs.* What glory our *Achilles* shares from *Hector*,
(Were he not proud) we all ſhould weare with him:
But he already is too inſolent,
And we were better parch in Aſſricke Sunne,
Then in the pride and ſalt ſcorne of his eyes
Should he ſcape *Hector* faire. If he were ſoyld,
Why then we did our maine opinion cruſh
In taint of our beſt man. No, make a Lott'ry,
And by deuice let blockiſh *Aiax* draw
The ſort to fight with *Hector*: Among our ſelues,
Gue him allowance as the worthier man,
For that will phyſicke the great Myrmidon
Who broyles in lowd applaſe, and make him ſall
His Creſt, that prouder then blew Iri's bends.
If the dull brainleſſe *Aiax* come ſafe off,
Wee'l drefſe him vp in voyces: if he ſaile,

Yet go we vnder our opinion ſtill,
That we haue better men. But hit or miſſe,
Our proieſts life this ſhape of ſence aſſumes,
*Aiax* imploy'd, pluckes downe *Achilles* Plumes.
Neſt. Now *Vlyſſes*, I begin to reſillſt thy aduice,

And I wil giue a taſte of it forthwith
To *Agamemnon*, go we to him ſtraight:
Two Curres ſhal tame each other, Pride alone
Muſt tarre the Maſtiffes on, as 'twere their bone.
Exenues
Enter *Aiax*, and *Therſites*.

*Aiax.* *Therſites?*

*Ther.* *Agamemnon*, how if he had Biles (ful) all out
generally.

*Aiax.* *Therſites?*

*Ther.* And thoſe Byles did runne, ſay ſo; did not the
General run, were not that a botchy core?

*Aiax.* Dogge,

*Ther.* Then there would come ſome matter from him:
I ſee none now,

*Aiax.* Thou Bitch-Wolſes-Sonne, canſt y not here?

Feele then.

*Strikes him.*

*Ther.* The plague of Greece vpon thee thou Mungrell
beefe-witted Lord.

*Aiax.* Speake then you whinid'ſt leauen ſpeake, I will
beate thee into hands ſomneſſe.

*Ther.* I ſhal ſooner rayle thee into wit and holineſſe,
but I thinke thy Horſe wil ſooner con an Oration, then
learn a prayer without booke: Thou canſt ſtrike, canſt
thou? A red Murren o'th thy Jades tricks.

*Aiax.* Toads ſtoole, leane me the Proclamation.

*Ther.* Doeſt thou thinke I haue no ſence thou ſtrikest?

*Aiax.* The Proclamation.

(me thus)

*Ther.* Thou art proclaim'd a ſoole, I thinke.

*Aiax.* Do not Porpentine, do not; my fingers itch.

*Ther.* I would thou didſt itch from head to foot, and
I had the scratching of thee, I would make thee the loth-
ſom'ſt ſcab in Greece.

*Aiax.* I ſay the Proclamation.

*Ther.* Thou grumbleſt & raileſt euery houre on *A-
chilles*, and thou art as ful of enuy at his greatnes, as Cer-
beru is at Proſerpina's beauty. I, that thou bark't at him.

*Aiax.* Miftreſſe *Therſites*.

*Ther.* Thou ſhould'ſt ſtrike him.

*Aiax.* Cobloſe.

*Ther.* He would pun thee into ſhuers with his ſiſt, as a Sailor breakes a bisker.†

*Aiax.* You horſon Curre.

*Ther. Do, do.*

*Aiax.* Thou ſtoole for a Witch.

*Ther.* I, do, do, do, thou ſidden-witted Lord: thou haſt
no more braine then I haue in mine elbows: An Aſinico
may tutor thee. Thou ſcuruy valiant Aſſe, thou art heere
but to threſh Troyans, and thou art bought and folde a-
mong thoſe of any wit, like a Barbarian ſlaue. If thou vit
to beat me, I wil begin at thy heele; and tel what thou art
by inches, thou thing of no bowels thou,†

*Aiax.* You dogge.

*Ther.* You ſcuruy Lord.

*Aiax.* You Curre.

*Ther.* Mars his Ideor: do rudenes, do Camell, do, do.
Enter *Achilles*, and *Patroclus*.

*Achil.* Why how now *Aiax*? wherefore do you this?
How now *Therſites*? what's the matter man?

*Ther.* You ſee him there, do you?

*Achil.* I, what's the matter.

*Ther.* Nay looke upon him.

*Achil.* So I do: what's the matter?

Ther.

Troylus and Crefida.

Ther. Nay but regard him well.

Achil. Well, why I do so.

Ther. But yet you looke not well vpon him : for who
fome euer you take him to be, he is Aiax.

Achil. I know that foole.

Ther. I, but that foole knowes not himselfe.

Aiax. Therefore I beate thee.

Ther. Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he vitters: his
eusions haue eares thus long. I haue bobb'd his Brajne
more then he has beate my bones : I will buy nine Spar-
rowes for a peny, and his Piamater is not worth the ninth
part of a Sparrow. This Lord (Achilles) Aiax who wears
his wit in his belly, and his guttres in his head, Ile tell you
what I fay of him.

Achil. What?

Ther. I fay this Aiax.

Achil. Nay, good Aiax.

Ther. Has not so much wit.

Achil. Nay, I must hold you.

Ther. As will flop the eye of Helens Needle, for whom
he comes to fight.

Achil. Peace foole.

Ther. I would haue peace and quietnes, but the foole
will not : he there, that he, looke you there.

Aiax. O thou damn'd Curre, I shall—

Achil. Will you fer your wit to a Fooles.

Ther. No, I warrant you, for a fooles will shame it.

Pat. Good words Ther.sites.

Achil. What's the quarrell?

Aiax. I bad thee vile Owle, goe learne me the tenure
of the Proclamation, and he rayles vpon me.

Ther. I ferue thee not.

Aiax. Well, go too, go too.

Ther. I ferue heere voluntary.

Achil. Your last feruice was sufferance, 'twas not vol-
luntary, no man is beaten voluntary : Aiax was heere the
voluntary, and you as vnder an Impreste.

Ther. Enefio, a great deale of your wit too lies in your
finnewes, or else there be Liars. Hestor shall haue a great
catch, if he knocke out either of your brains, he were as
good cracke a fustie nut with no kernell,

Achil. What with me to Ther.sites?

Ther. Thee's Vlyffes, and old Neffor, whose Wit was
mouldy ere their Grandfires had nails on their toes, yoke
you like draft-Oxen, and make you plough vp the watre.

Achil. What? what?

Ther. Yes good footh, to Achilles, to Aiax, to—

Aiax. I shall cut out your tongue.

Ther. 'Tis no matter, I shall fpeake as much as thou
afterwards.

Pat. No more words Ther.sites.

Ther. I will hold my peace when Achilles Brooch bids
me, shall I?

Achil. There's for you Patroclus.

Ther. I will I see you hang'd like Clotpoles ere I come
any more to your Tents; I will keepe where there is wit
flitting, and leaue the faction of fooles.

Pat. A good riddance.

Achil. Matry this Sir is proclaim'd through all our hoft,
That Hestor by the fift houre of the Sunne,
Will with a Trumpet, 'twixt our Tents and Troy

To morrow morning call some Knight to Armes,
That hath a stomacke, and such a one that dare

Maintaine I know not what: 'tis trash. Farewell.
Aiax. Farewell? who shall answer him?

Aiax. I know not, 'tis put to Lottry: otherwise

Heknew his man.

Aiax. O meaning you, I wil goe learne more of it. Exit.

Enter Priam, Hestor, Troylus, Paris and Helensus.

Pri. After so many houres, liues, fpeeches spent,
Thus once againe fayes Neffor from the Greekes,
Deliuer Helen, and all damage elfe

(As honour, loffe of time, trauailde, exente,
Wounds, friends, and what els deere that is consum'd
In hot digestion of this comorant Warre)

Shall be stroke off. Hestor, what fay you too?

Hek. Though no man leffer feares the Greeks then I,
As farre as touches my particular : yet dread Priam,
There is no Lady of more fofter bowels,

More ipungie, to fucke in the fense of feare,
More ready to cry out, who knowes what followes
Then Hestor is : the wound of peace is surety,

Surety secure : but modeft Doubt is cal'd

The Beacon of the wife : the tent that searches

To'th'bottome of the worft. Let Helen go,

Since the firſt ſword was drawne about this question,
Euery tyfe the ſoule 'mongſt many thousand diſtemes,

Hath bin as deere as Helen : I meane of ours :

If we haue loft so many tenths of ours

To guard a thing not ours, nor worth to vs

(Had it our name) the valew of one ten

What merit's in that reafon which denies

The yeelding of her vp.

Troy. Fie, ſie, my Brother;

Weigh you the worth and honour of a King

(So great as our dread Father) in a Scale

Of common Ounces? Wil you with Counters ſumme

The paſt proportion of his infinite,

Andbuckle in a waſte moſt fathomleſſe,

With ſpannes and inches ſo diminutive,

As feares and reaſons ? Fie for godly ſhame?

Hek. No maruel though you bice ſo ſharp at reaſons,
You are ſo empty of them, ſhould not our Father
Beare the great ſway of his affayres with reaſons,
Because your ſpeech hath none that tells him ſo.

Troy. You are for dreaemes & ſlumbers brother Priefft
You furre your gloues with reaſon: here are your reaſons
You know an enemy intends you harme,

You know, a ſword imploy'd is perillous,

And reaſon flies the obieſt of all harme.

Who maruels then when Helensus beholds

A Grecian and his ſword, if he do ſet

The very wings of reaſon to his heeles:

Or like a Starre diſorb'd. Nay, if we take of Reaſon,

And flye like chidden Mercurie from Jove,

Let's shut our gates and sleepe ; Manhood and Honor

Should haue hard hearts, wold they but fat their thoghts

With this cramm'd reaſon: reaſon and reſpect,

Makes Liuers pale, and luftyhood deieſt.

Hect. Brother, she is not worth

What ſhe doth coſt the holding.

Troy. What's aught, but as 'tis valew'd?

Hect. But value dwels not in particular will,

It holds his eſtimate and dignitie

As well, wherein 'tis precious of it ſelfe, 1

As in the prizer: 'Tis made Idolatrie,

To make the ſervice greater then the God,

And the will dotes that is inclineable

To what inſectiously it ſelfe aſſeets,

Without ſome image of th' affected merſt.

Troy. I take to day a Wife, and my election
Is led on in the conduct of my Will;

My

Troylus and Crefida.

My Will enkindled by mine eyes and eares,
Two traded Pylots 'twixt the dangerous flories
Of Will, and Iudgement. How may I auoyde
(Although my will diftaste what it elected)
The Wife I chofe, there can be no euafion
To blench from this, and to fand firme by honour.
We turne not backe the Silkes vpon the Merchant
When we haue spoyl'd them; nor the remainder Viands
We do not throw in vnrefpeſtive fame,
Because we now are full. It was thought meete
Paris should do ſome vengeance on the Greekeſ;
Your breath of full conſent bellied his Sailes,
The Seas and Windes (old Wranglers) tooke a Truce,
And did him ſeruice; he touch'd the Ports deſir'd,
And for an old Aunt whom the Greekeſ held Captiue,
He brought a Grecian Queen, whose youth & freshneſſe
Wrinkles Apollos, and makes rale the morning.
Why keepe we her? the Grecians keepe our Aunt?
Is ſhe worth keeping? Why ſhe is a Pearle,
Whofe price hath launch'd aboue a thouſand Ships,
And turn'd Crown'd Kings to Merchants.
If you'l auouch, 'twas wifedome Paris went,
(As you muſt needs, for you all cride, Go, go!)
If you'l conſeſſe, he brought home Noble prize,
(As you muſt needs) for you all clapt your hands,
And cride inſtimable; why do you now
The ſiſue of your proper Wifedomes rate,
And do a deed that Fortune neuer did?
Begger the eſtimation which you priz'd,
Richer then Sea and Land? O Theft moſt bafe!
That we haue ſtolne what we do feare to keepe.
But Theeues vnworthy of a thing ſo ſtolne,
That in their Country did them that diſgrace,
We feare to warrant in our Native place.

Enter Caffandra with her haire about her eares.

Caf. Cry Troyans, cry.
Priams. What noyſe? what threeke is this?
Troy. 'Tis our mad Sifter, I do know her voyce.
Caf. Cry Troyans.
Hect. It is Caffandra.
Caf. Cry Troyans cry; lend me ten thouſand eyes,
And I will fill them with Propheticke teares.
Hect. Peace Sifter, peace.
Caf. Virgins, and Boyes; mid-age & wrinkled old,
Soft infancie, that nothing can but cry,
Adde to my clamour: let vs pay betimes
A moity of that maffe of moane to come.
Cry Troyans cry, præſtife your eyes with teares,
Troy muſt not be, nor goodly Illion ſtand,
Our fire-brand Brother Paris burnes vs all.
Cry Troyans cry, a Helen and a woe?
Cry, cry, Troy burnes, or eſſe let Helen goe. Exit.
Hect. Now youthfull Troyus, do not theſe hie strains
Of diuination in our Sifter, worke
Some touches of remorſe? Or is your bloud
So madly hot, that no diſcourse of reaſon,
Nor ſeare of bad ſucceſſe in a bad caufe,
Can qualife the fame?
Troy. Why Brother Hector,
We may not thinke the iuſtneſſe of each aſte
Such, and no other then euent doth forme it,
Nor once deſtſe the courage of our mindeſ;
Because Caffandra's mad, her brainſicke raptures
Cannot diſtaste the goodneſſe of a quarrell,

Which hath our ſeuerall Honours all engag'd
To make it gracious. For my private part,
I am no more touch'd, then all Priams ſonnes,
And Ioue forbid there ſhould be done among it vs
Such things as might offen the weakeſt ſpleene,
To fight for, and maintaine.

Par. Elſe might the world conuince of leutitje,
As well my vnder-takings as your counſels:
But I atteſt the gods, your full conſent
Gaue wings to my propenſion, and cut off
All ſeares attending on ſo dire a proieſt.
For what (alas) can theſe my ſingle artines?
What propugnation is in one mans valour
To ſtand the puſh and enmity of thatſe
This quarrell would excite? Yet I proteſt,
Were I alone to paffe the difficulties,
And had as ample power, as I haue will,
Paris ſhould ne're reſtract what he hath done,
Nor faint in the parſuite.

Pri. Paris, you ſpeake
Like one be-fotted on your ſweet delights;
You haue the Hony full, but theſe the Gall,
So to be valiant, is no prieſe at all.

Par. Sir, I propoſe not meerefly to my ſelfe,
The pleafures ſuch a beauty brings with it:
But I would haue the ſoyle of her faire Rape
Wip'd off in honourable keeping her.
What Treaſon were it to the ranſack'd Queene,
Difgrace to your great worths, and ſhame to me,
Now to deliuer her poſſeffion vp
On termes of bafe compulſion? Can it be,
That ſo degenerate a ſiraine as this,
Should once fet footing in your generous boſomes?
There's not the meaneſt ſpirit on our partie,
Without a heart to dare, or ſword to draw,
When Helen is defended: nor none ſo Noble,
Whofe life were ill beſtow'd, or death vnſam'd,
Where Helen is the ſubieſt. Then (I ſay)
Well may we fight for her, whom we know well,
The worlds large ſpaces cannot parcell.
Hect. Paris and Troyus, you haue both faid well:

And on the caufe and question now in hand,
Hae gloz'd, but ſuperſicially; nor much
Vnlike young men, whom Ariftorie thought
Vnſit to heare Morall Philofophie.
The Reaſons you alledge, do more conduce
To the hot paffion of diſtemp'red blood,
Then to make vp a free determination
'Twixt right and wrong: For pleafure, and reuenge,
Hae eares more deafe then Adders, to the voyce
Of any true decifion. Nature craues
All dues be rendred to their Owners: now
What neerer debt in all humanity,
Then Wife is to the Husband? If this law
Of Nature be corrupted through affection,
And that great mindes of partiall indulgence,
To their benummed wills reſift the fame,
There is a Law in each well-ordred Nation,
To curbe thate raging appetites that are
Moſt diſobedient and reſtrautie.
If Helen then be wife to Sparta's King
(As it is knowne ſhe is) theſe Morall Lawes
Of Nature, and of Nation, ſpeake alowd
To haue her backe return'd. Thus to perſift
In doing wrong, ex續ues not wrong,
But makes it much more beauie. Hectors opinion

Troylus and Cressida.

Is this in way of truth: yet nere the leffe,
My sprightly brethren, I propend to you
In resolution to keepe Helen still;
For't a cause that hath no meane dependance,
Vpon our ioynt and feuerall dignities.

Tro. Why? there you toucht the life of our defigne:
Were it not glory that we more affected,
Then the performance of our heauing spleenes,
I would not wifh a drop of Troian blood,
Spent more in her defence. But worthy Hector,
She is a theame of honour and renowne,
A purre to valiant and magnanimous deeds,
Whole prefent courage may beate downe our foes,
And fame in time to come canonize vs.
For I prefume braue Hector would not loofe
So rich aduantage of a promis'd glory,
As ſmiles vpon the fore-head of this action,
Forthe wide worlds reuencw.

Heff. I am yours,

You valiant off-spring of great Priamus,
I haue a roifing challenge ſent among't
The dull and factious nobles of the Greekes,
Will strike amazement to their drowſe ſpirits,
I was aduertiz'd, their Great generall ſlept,
Whil't emulation in the armie crept:
This I prefume will wake him.

Exeunt.

Enter Therſites ſolus.

How now Therſites? what loſt in the Labyrinth of thy
furie? Ihaſt the Elephant Aiax carry it thus? he beats
me, and I raile at him: O worthy ſatistaction, would it
were otherwife: that I could beate him, whil't he rail'd
at me: Sfoote, Ile learne to coniure and raſe Diuels, but
Ile fee ſome ſiſue of my ſpiteſul execrations. Then ther's
Achilles, arare Enginer. If Troy be not taken till theſe two
vndermine it, the wals will ſtand till they fall of them-
ſelues. O thou great thunder-darter of Olympus, forget
that thou art Ioue the King of gods: and Mercury, loofe
all the Serpentine craft of thy Caduceus, if thou rake not
that little little leſſe then little wit from them that they
haue, which ſhort-arm'd ignorance it ſelſe knowes, is ſo
abundant ſcarſe, it will not in circumquention deliuer a
Flye from a Spider, without drawing the maſſie Irons and
cutting the web: after this, the vengeance on the whole
Camp, or rather the bone-ach, for that me thinkes is the
curſe dependant on thofe that warre for a placket. Ihaue
ſaid my prayers and diuell, enuie, ſay Amen: What ho?
my Lord Achilles?

Enter Patroclus.

Patr. Who's there? Therſites. Good Therſites come in and raile.

Ther. If I could haue remembred a guilt counterfeit,
thou would't not haue flipt out of my contemplation,
but it is no matter, thy ſelſe vpon thy ſelſe. The common
curſe of mankinde, ſollie and ignorance be thine in great
reuenew; heauen bleſſe thee from a Tutor, and Discipline
come not neere thee. Let thy bloud be thy direction till
thy death, then if the that laies thee out ſayes thou art a
faire coarse, Ile be ſworne and ſworne vpon't the neuer
throwd any but Lazars, Amen. Wher's Achilles?

Parr. What art thou, deuout? waiſt thou in a prayer?

Ther. I, the heauens heare me.
Enter Achilles.

Achil. Who's there?

Patr. Therſites, my Lord.

Achil. Where, where, art thou come? why my cheeſe,
my digeſtion, why haſt thou not ſeru'd thy ſelſe into my
Table, ſo many meales? Come, what's Agamemnon?

Ther. Thy Commander Achilles, then tell me Patro-
clus, what's Achilles?

Patr. Thy Lord Therſites: then tell me I pray thee,
what's thy ſelſe?

Ther. Thy knower Patroclus: then tell me Patroclus,
what art thou?

Patr. Thou maſſt tell that knowſt.

Achil. O tell, tell.

Ther. Ile declin the whole question: Agamemnon com-
mands Achilles, Achilles is my Lord, I am Patroclus know-
er, and Patroclus is a foole.

Patr. You raſcall.

Ter. Peace foole, I haue not done.

Achil. He is a priuiledg'd man, proceede Therſites.

Ther. Agamemnon is a foole, Achilles is a foole, Ther-
ſites is a foole, and as aforefaid, Patroclus is a foole.

Achil. Deriue this? come?

Ther. Agamemnon is a foole to offer to command A-
chilles, Achilles is a foole to be commanded of Agamemnon,
Therſites is a foole to ferue ſuch a foole: and Patroclus is a
foole pofitие.

Patr. Why am I a foole?

Enter Agamemnon, Vlſſes, Neſtor, Diomèdes,
Aiax, and Chalcas.

Ther. Make that demand to the Creator, it ſuffices me
thou art. Looke you, who comes here?

Achil. Patroclus, Ile ſpeake with no body: come in
with me Therſites.

Ther. Here is ſuch patcherie, ſuch ingling, and ſuch
knauerie: all the argument is a Cuckold and a Whore, a
good quarrel to draw emulations, faſtions, and bleede to
death vpon: Now the dry Suppeago on the Subiect, and
Warre and Lecherie confound all.

Agam. Where is Achilles?

Patr. Withinhis Tent, but ill diſpo'd my Lord.

Agam. Let it be knowne to him that we are here:
He ſent our Meſſengers, and we lay by

Our appertairments, viſiting of him:

Let him be told of, ſo perchance he thinke.

We dare not moue the queſtion of our place,

Or know not what we are.

Pat. I thall ſo ſay to him.

Vlſi. We ſaw him at the opening of his Tent,
He is not ſicke.

Aia. Yes, Lyon ſicke, ſicke of proud heart: you may
call it Melancholly if will ſavour the man, but by my
head, it is pride; but why, why, let him ſhow vs the cauſe?
A word my Lord.

Nef. What moues Aiax thus to bay at him?

Vlſi. Achilles hath inueigled his Foole from him.

Nef. Who, Therſites?

Vlſi. He.

Nef. Then will Aiax lacke matter, if he haue loſt his
Argument.

Vlſi. No, you ſee he is his argument that has his argu-
ment Achilles.

Nef. All the better, their ſiaction is more our wifh
then their ſaſtion, but it was a ſtrong counſell that a
Foole could diſunſte.

Vlſi. The amitie that wifedome knits, not ſolly may
eaſily vntie.

Enter Patroclus.

Here

Troylus and Crefida.

Here comes *Patroclus*.

Nesf. No *Achilles* with him?

Vlif. The Elephant hath ioynts, but none for curtese:
His legge are legs for necessitie, not for flight.

Patro. *Achilles* bids me say he is much sorry:
If any thing more then your sport and pleasure,
Did moue your greatnesse, and this noble State,
To call upon him; he hopes it is no other,
But for your health, and your digestion false;
An after Dinners breath.

Aga. Heare you *Patroclus*:
We are too well acquainted with these answers:
But his euafion winged thus swife with Icorne,
Cannot outflye our apprehensions.

Much attribute he hath, and much the reafon,
Why we alcribe it to him, yet all his vertues,
Not vertuouly of his owne part beheld,
Doe in our eyes, begin to loose their gloffe;

Yea, and like faire Fruit in an vnholdome diſh,
Are like to vntaſted: goe and tell him,

We came to ſpeake with him; and you shall not finne,
If you doe ſay, we thinke him ouer proud,

And vnder heſtſe in ſelſe-aſſumption greater
Then in the note of iudgement: & worthier then himſelſe
Here tends the ſauage iſtrangenesſe he puts on,

Disguile the holy ſtrength of their command:

And vnder write in an obferuning kinde
His humorous predominance, yea watch
His pettih lines, his ebs, his flowes, as if

The paſſage and whole carriage of this action
Rode on his tyde. Goe tell him this, and adde,
That if he ouerhold his price ſo much,

Weele none of him; but let him, like an Engin
Not portable, lye vnder this report.

Bring action hither, this cannot goe to warre:
A stirring Dwarſe, we doe allowance giue,

Before a ſleeping Gyant: tell him so.

Pat. I ſhall, and bring his anſwere preſently.

Aga. In ſecond voyce weele not be ſatisſed,

We come to ſpeake with him, *Ulyſes* enter you.

Exit *Vllyſes*.

Aiax. What is he more then another?

Exit *Vllyſes*.

Aga. No more then what he thinkes he is.

Aiax. Is he ſo much, doe you not thinke, he thinkes
himſelſe a better man then I am?

Ag. No question.

Aiax. Will you ſubſcribe his thought, and ſay he is?

Ag. No, Noble *Aiax*, you are as ſtrong, as valiant, as
wife, no leſſe noble, much more gentle, and altogether
more tractable.

Aiax. Why ſhould a man be proud? How doth pride
grow? I know not what it is.

Aga. Your minde is the clearer *Aiax*, and your vertues
the fairer; he that is proud, eates vp himſelſe; Pride is his
owne Glafſe, his owne trumpet, his owne Chronicle, and
what euer praiſes it ſelſe but in the decede, deuoures the
deede in the prauſe.

Enter *Ulyſes*.

Aiax. I do hate a proud man, as I hate the ingendring
of Toades.

Nesſ. Yet he loues himſelſe: is't not ſtrange?

Vlif. *Achilles* will not to the field to morrow.

Ag. What's his excuse?

Vlif. He doth relye on none,

But carries on the ſtreame of his diſpoſe,
Without obſeruance or reſpect of any,

In will peculiar, and in ſelſe admiffion.

Aga. Why, will he not vpon our ſaire requeſt,
Vntent his person, and ſhare the ayre with vs?

Vlif. Things ſmall as things, for requeſts ſake only
He makes important; poſſeſt he is with greatneſſe,
And ſpeakes not to himſelſe, but with a pride
That quarrels at ſelſe-breath. Imagin'd wroth
Holds in his bloud ſuch swolne and hot diſcours'e,
That twixt his mentall and his aſtive parts,
Kingdom'd *Achilles* in commotion rages,
And batters gainſt it ſelſe; what ſhould I ſay?
He is ſo plaguy proud, that the death tokens of it,
Cry no recovery.

Ag. Let *Aiax* goe to him.

Deare Lord, goe you and greete him in his Tent;
'Tis said he holds you well, and will be led
At your requeſt a little from himſelſe.

Vlif. O *Agamemnon*, let it not be so.

Weele confecrate the ſteps that *Aiax* makes,
When they goe from *Achilles*: ſhall the proud Lord,
That bafeſt his arrogance with his owne cause,
And neuer ſuffers matter of the world,

Enter his thoughts: faue ſuch as doe reuolue

And ruminate himſelſe. Shall he be worſhipſt,
Of that we hold an Idoll, more then hee?

No, this thrice worthy and right valiant Lord,
Muſt not ſo ſtauſe his Palme, nobly acquir'd,
Nor by my will affubigate his merit,

As amply titled as *Achilles* is: by going to *Achilles*,
That were to enlard his fat already, pride,

And adde more Coles to Cancer, when he burnes
With entertaining great *Hippocras*.

This L. goe to him? *Iupiter* torbid,

And ſay in thunder, *Achilles* goe to him.

Nesſ. O this is well, he rubs the veine of him.

Die. And how his ſilence drinkens vp this applaſſe.

Aiax. If I goe to him, with my armed fight, Ile paff him
ore the face.

Ag. O no, you shall not goe.

Aiax. And a be proud with me, ile pheſe his pride: let
me goe to him.

Vlif. Not for the worth that hangs vpon our quarrel.

Aiax. A poultry inſolent fellow.

Nesſ. How he deſcribes himſelſe.

Aiax. Can he not be ſociable?

Vlif. The Rauen chides blackneſſe.

Aiax. Ile let his humours bloud.

Ag. He will be the Phyſitian that ſhould be the paſ-
tient.

Aiax. And all men were a my minde.

Vlif. Wit would be out of ſashion.

Aiax. A ſhould not beare it ſo, a ſhould eate Swords
ſiſt: ſhall pride carry it?

Nesſ. And 'twould, you'd carry halſe.

Vlif. A would haue ten shares.

Aiax. I will knede him, Ile make him ſupple, hee's not
yet through warme.

Nesſ. Force him with praiſes, poure in, poure in his am-
bition is dry.

Vlif. My L. you feede too much on this diſlike.

Nesſ. Our noble Generall, doe not doe ſo.

Diom. You muſt prepare to fight without *Achilles*.

Vlif. Why, 'tis this naming of him doth him harme,
Here is a man, but 'tis before his face,
I will be ſilent.

Nesſ. Wherefore ſhould you ſo!

He

Troylus and Crefida.

He is not emulous, as *Achilles* is.

*Vilf.* Know the whole world, he is as valiant.

*Aix.* A horzon dog, that shal palter thus with vs, would he were a *Troian*.

*Neft.* What a vice were it in *Aiax* now—

*Vilf.* If he were proud.

*Dio.* Or coucous of praise.

*Vilf.* I, or furley borne.

*Dio.* Or ftrange, or felfe affected.

*P.* Thank the heauens L. thou art of ſweet cempofure;
Praife him that got thee, the that gaue thee ſucke:
Fame be thy Tutor, and thy parts of nature
Thrice fam'd beyond, beyond all erudition;
But he that disciplin'd thy armes to fight,
Let Mars deuide Eternity in twaine,
And giue him halfe, and for thy vigour,
Bull-bearing Milo: his addition yeelde
To finnowie *Aiax*: I will not prauſe thy wifdome,
Which like a bourne, a pale, a ſhore confines
Thy ſpacious and dilated parts; here's *Neſtor*
Infructible by the Antiquary times:
He muſt, he is, he cannot but be wifhe.
But pardon Father *Neſtor*, were your dayes
As greene as *Aiax*, and your braine ſo temper'd,
You should not haue the eminence of him,
But be as *Aiax*.

*Aiax.* Shall I call you Father?

*Vilf.* I my good Sonne.

*Dio.* Be rul'd by him Lord *Aiax*.

*Vilf.* There is no tarrying here, the Hart *Achilles*
Keeps thicker: prieſe it our Generall,
Tocall together all his ſtate of warre,
Fresh Kings are come to Troy; to morrow

We muſt with all our maine of power ſand ſaſt:
And here's a Lord, come Knights from Eaſt to Weſt,
And cull their flowre, *Aiax* shall cope the beſt.

*Ag.* Goe we to Counſaile, let *Achilles* ſleep;
Light Botes may ſaile ſwift, though greater bulkes draw
deepe. Exeunt.
*Musſicke ſounds within.*

Enter Pandarus and a Servant.

*Pan.* Friend, you, pray you a word: Doe not you follow the yong Lord *Pandarus*?

*Ser.* I ſir, when he goes before me.

*Pan.* You depend vpon him I meane?

*Ser.* Sir, I doe depend vpon the Lord.

*Pan.* You depend vpon a noble Gentleman: I muſt needes prauſe him.

*Ser.* The Lord be praifed.

*Pa.* You know me, doe you not?

*Ser.* Faith fir, ſuperficially.

*Pa.* You know me better, I am the Lord *Pandarus*.

*Ser.* I hope I ſhall know your honour better.

*Pa.* I doe defire it.

*Ser.* You are in the ſtate of Grace?

*Pa.* Grace, not ſo friend, honor and Lordſhip are my title: What Muſique is this?

*Ser.* I doe but partly know fir: it is Muſicke in parts.

*Pa.* Know you the Muſitians?

*Ser.* Wholly fir.

*Pa.* Who play they to?

*Ser.* To the hearers fir.

*Pa.* At whose plearſur: friend ?

*Ser.* At mine fir, and theirs that loue Muſicke.

*Pa.* Command, I meane friend.

*Ser.* Who ſhall I command fir ?

*Pa.* Friend, we understand not one another: I am too courtly, and thou art too cunning. At whose requeſt doe these men play?

*Ser.* That's too't indeede fir: marry fir, at the requeſt of *Paris* my L, who's there in person; with him the morſt *Venus*, the heart bloud of beauty, loues inuſible foule.

*Pa.* Who? my Cofin *Crefida*.

*Ser.* No fir, *Helen*, could you not finde out that by her attributes ?

*Pa.* It ſhould ſeeme fellow, that thou haſt not ſeen the Lady *Crefida*. I come to ſpeake with *Paris* from the Prince *Troylus*: I will make a complementall affault vpon him, for my busineſſe ſeethes.

*Ser.* Sodden busineſſe, there's a ſtewed phrase indeede.

Enter Paris and Helena.

*Pa.* Faire be to you my Lord, and to all this faire company: faire deſires in all faire meaſure fairly guide them, especially to you faire *Queene*, faire thoughts be your faire pillow.

*Hel.* Deere L. you are full of faire words.

*Pa.* You ſpeake your faire prieſure ſweete *Queene*: faire Prince, here is good broken Muſicke.

*Par.* You haue broke it cozen: and by my life you ſhall make it whole againe, you ſhall peecce it out with a peecce of your performance. *Nel*, he is full of harmony.

*Pa.* Truely Lady no.

*Hel.* O fir.

*Pan.* Rude in footh, in good footh very rude.

*Paris.* Well faid my Lord: well, you ſay so in ſits.

*Pan.* I haue busineſſe to my Lord, deere *Queene*: my Lord will you vouchſaſe me a word.

*Hel.* Nay, this ſhall not hedge vs out, weele heare you ſing certainly.

*Par.* Well ſweete *Queene*, you are plearſant with me, but, marry thus my Lord, my deere Lord, and moſt eſtemed friend your brother *Troylus*.

*Hel.* My Lord *Pandarus*, hony ſweete Lord.

*Pan.* Go too ſweete *Queene*, goe to.

Commends himſelfe moſt affectionately to you.

*Hel.* You ſhall not bob vs out of our melody: If you doe, our melancholly vpon your head.

*Pan.* ſweete *Queene*, ſweete *Queene*, that's a ſweete *Queene* I faith—

*Hel.* And to make a ſweet Lady ſad, is a ſower ſoffence.

*Pan.* Nay, that ſhall not ferue your turne, that ſhall it not in truth la. Nay, I care not for ſuch words, no, no. And my Lord he deſires you, that if the King call for him at Supper, you will make his excufe.

*Hel.* My Lord *Pandarus*?

*Pan.* What ſaies my ſweete *Queene*, my very, very ſweete *Queene*?

*Par.* What exploit's in hand, where ſups he to night?

*Hel.* Nay but my Lord?

*Pan.* What ſaies my ſweete *Queene*? my cozen will fall out with you.

*Hel.* You muſt not know where he ſups.

*Par.* With my diſpoſer *Crefida*.

*Pan.* No, no; no ſuch matter, you are wide, come your diſpoſer is ſicke.

*Par.* Well, ile make excufe.

*Pan.* I good my Lord: why ſhould you ſay *Crefida*? no, your poore diſpoſer's ſicke.

*Par.* I ſpie.

*Pan.* You

Troylus and Cressida.

Pan. You spie, what doe you spie: come, giue me an
Instrumment now sweete Queene.

Hel. Why this is kindly done?

Pan. My Neece is horrible in loue with a thing you
haue sweete Queene.

Hel. She shall haue it my Lord, if it be not my Lord
Paris.

Pand. Hee no, theele none of him, they two are
twaine.

Hel. Falling in after falling out, may make them three.

Pas. Come, come, Ile heare no more of this, Ile sing
you a fong now.

Hel. I, I, prethee now: by my troth sweet Lord thou
haft a fine fore-head.

Pas. I you may, you may.

Hel. Let thy song be loue: this loue will yndoe vs al.
Oh Cupid, Cupid, Cupid.

Pas. Loue? I that it shall yfaith.

Par. I good now loue, loue, no thing but loue.

Pas. In good troth it begins so.

Loue, loue, nothing but loue, still more :

For O loues Bow,

Shootes Bucke and Doe :

The Shaft confounds not that it wounds,

But tickles still the fore :

These Lovers cry, oh ho they dye;

Yet that which seems the wound to kill,

Doth twrne oh ho, to ha ha he :

So dying loue liues still,

O ho a while, but ha ha ha,

O ho grones out for ha ha ha ba---hey ho.

Hel. In loue yfaith to the very tip of the nofe.

Par. Heeags nothing but doues loue, and that breeds
hot bloud, and hot bloud begets hot thoughts, and hot
thoughts beget hot deedes, and hot deedes is loue.

Pas. Is this the generation of loue? Hot bloud, hot
thoughts, and hot deedes, why they are Vipers, is Loue a
generation of Vipers?

Sweete Lord whome a field to day?

Par. Heltor, Deiphæbus, Helenus, Anthenor, and all the
gallantry of Troy. I would faine have arm'd to day, but
my Nell would not have it so.

How chance my brother Troylus went not?

Hel. He hangs the lippe at something; you know all
Lord Pandarus?

Pas. Not I hony sweete Queene: I long to heare how
they sped to day :

Youle remember your brothers excuse?

Pas. To a hayre.

Pan. Farewell sweete Queene.

Hel. Commend me to your Neece.

Pas. I will sweete Queene.

Sound a retreat.

Pas. They're come from fielde: let vs to Priams Hall
To greete the Warriers. Sweet Hellen, I must woe you,
To helpe vnarme our Heltor: his flubborne Buckles,
With these your white enchanting fingers toucht,
Shall more obey then to the edge of Steele,
Or force of Greekish finewes: you shall doe more
Then all the Iland Kings, disarme great Heltor.

Hel. 'Twill make vs proud to be his cuerant Paris:
Yea what he shall receiue of vs in ductie,
Gives vs more palme in beautie then we haue:
Yea ouerhines our selfe.

Sweete aboue thought I loue thee.

Exeunt.

Enter Pandarus and Troylus Man.

Pan. How now, where's thy Maister, at my Couzen
Cresidas?

Man. No fir, he stayes for you to conduct him thither.

Enter Troylus.
Pan. O here he comes: How now, how now?

Troy. Sirra walke off.

Pas. Haue you seene my Coufin?

Troy. No Pandarus: I falke about her doore
Like a strange foule upon the Stigian bankes
Staying for waftage. O be thou my Charon,
And gue me swift transporbance to those fields,
Where I may wallow in the Lilly beds
Propos'd for the defuerer. O gentle Pandarus,
From Cupids shoulder plucke his painted wings,
And flye with me to Cresfida.

Pan. Walke here ith' Orchard, Ile bring her straight,
Exit Pandarus.

Troy. I am giddy; expectation whiltes me round,
Th'imaginary rech is so sweete,
That it inchants my fence: what will it be?
When that the watry pallats tafte indeede
Loues thrice reputed Nectar? Death I feare me
Sounding distraction, or some ioy too fine,
Too fubtile, potent, and too sharpe in sweetneſſe,
For the capacitie of my ruder powers;
I feare it much, and I doe feare besides,
That I shall looke distinction in my ioyes,
As doth a bartraile, when they charge on heapes
The enemy flying.

Enter Pandarus.

Pas. Shee's making her ready, sheele come straight; you
muſt be witty now, the does ſo bluſh, & fetches her winde
ſo ſhort, as if she were fraid with a sprite: I fetch her in
is the prettiest villaine, the fetches her breath ſo ſhort as
new tane tane Pande.

Exit Pandus.

Troy. Even ſuch a paſſion doth imbrace my boſome:
My heart beates thicker then a ſeauorous pulle,
And all my powers doe their beſtowing looke,
Like vallage at vnawares encomunting
The eye of Majeftie.

Enter Pavaarus and Cresfida.

Pan. Come, come, what neede you bluſh?

Shames a babie; here ſhe is now, ſweare the oathes now
to her, that you haue ſworne to me. What are you gone-
gaine, you muſt be watcht ere you be made tame, muſt
you? come your wayes, come your wayes, and you draw
backward weele put you i'th fils: why doe you not ſpeak
to her? Come draw this curtain, & let's fee your picture.
Alasſe the day, how loath you are to offend day light:
'twere darke you'd close sooner: So, ſo, rub on, and kiffe
the miſſreffe; how now, a kiffe in fee-farme? build there
Carpenter, the ayre is sweete. Nay, you ſhall fight your
hearts out ere I part you. The Faulcon, as the Tercell, for
all the Ducks i'th Riuer: go too, go too.

Troy. You haue bereſt me of all words Lady.

Pan. Words pay no debts; giue her deedes: but ſhewe
bereau you 'orth deeds too, if ſhee call your activity in
question: what billing againe? here's in witneſſe where-
of the Parties interchangeably. Come in, come in, Ile go
get a fire?

Cres. Will you walke in my Lord?

Troy. O Cresida, how often haue I wiſht me thus?

Cres. Wiſht my Lord? the gods grant? O my Lord.
Troy. What should they grant? what makes this preſpre-
ty abruption: what too curious dreg eſpies my ſweete La-
dy in the fountaine of our loue?

Cres. More

Troylus and Crefsid.

Cref. More dregs then water, if my teares haue eyes.

Troy. Feares make diuels of Cherubins, they neuer fee
truly.

Cref. Blinde feare, that seeing reafon leads, findes safe
footing, then blinde reafon, ftumbling without feare : to
feare the worft, oft cures the worfe.

Troy. Oh let my Lady apprehend no feare,
In all Cupids Pageant there is presented no monfter.

Cref. Not nothing monftrons neither?

Troy. Nothing but our vndertakings, when we vowe
to weepe seas, liue in fire, cate rockes,tame Tygers; thinking
it harder for our Miftreffe to deuife impoffition
inough, then for vs to vndergo any difficultie impoſed.
This is the monſtruofitie in loue Lady, that the will is in-
finite, and the execution confin'd, that the deſire is bound-
leſſe, and the act a flaue to limit.

Cref. They lay all Louers ſware more performance
then they are able, and yet reſerue an ability that they
neuer performe: vowing more then the perfection of ten;
and diſcharging leſſe then the tenth part of one. They
that haue the voyce of Lyons, and the act of Harcs : are
they not Monſters ?

Troy. Are there fuch? ſuch are not we : Praife vs as we
are taſted, allow vs as we proſe : our head ſhall goe bare
till merit crowne it: no perfection in reuerſion ſhall have
a pr.aife in preſent : wee will not name defert before his
briſh, and being borne his adilion ſhall be humble: ſew
words to faire faith. Troyus ſhall be ſuch to Crefid, as
what enuie can ſay worſt, ſhall be a mocke for his truth;
and what truth can ſpeake trueſt, not truer then Troy-
lus.

Cref. Will you walke in my Lord ?

Enter Pandarus.

Pan. What blushing ſtill? haue you not done talking
yet?

Cref. Well Vnckle, what folly I commit, I dedicate
you.

Pan. I thank you for that : if my Lord get a Boy of
you, youle giue him me : be true to my Lord, if he flinch,
chide me for it.

Tro. You know now your hoſtages: your Vnckles word
and my firme faith.

Pan. Nay, I le giue my word for her too: our kindred
though they be long ere they are wooed, they are con-
ſant being wonne : they are Burres I can tell you, they'le
ſtike where they are throwne.

Cref. Boldneſſe comes to mee now, and brings mee
heart: Prince Troyus, I haue lou'd you night and day, for
many weary monſters.

Troy. Why was my Crefid then so hard to win?

Cref. Hard to ſee me won : but I was won my Lord
With the firſt glance; that euer pardon me,
If I confefſe much you will play the tyrant :
I loue you now, but not till now ſo much
But I might maſſer it; inſaith I lye :

My thoughts were like vnbrideled children grow
Too head-ſtrong for their mother: ſee we fooles,
Why haue I blab'd: who ſhall be true to vs
When we are ſo vnſecre to our ſelues?
But though I lou'd you well, I woed you not,
And yet good faith I wiſht my ſelfe a man;
Or that we women had mens priuledge
Of speaking firſt. Sweet, bid me hold my tongue,
For in this rapture I ſhall ſurely ſpeake

The thing I ſhall repent: ſee, ſee, your ſilence
Comming in dumbneſſe, from my weakenſeſſe drawes

My ſoule of counſell from me. Stop my mouth.

Troy. And ſhall, albeit ſweete Mutnücke ſlles thence.

Pan. Pretty yfaith.

Cref. My Lord, I doe beſeech you pardon me,
'Twas not my purpofe thus to beg a kiffe :

I am aſham'd; O Heauens, what haue I done!

For this time will I take my leaue my Lord.

Troy. Your leaue ſweete Crefid ?

Pan. Leaue : and you take leaue till to morrow mor-
ning.

Cref. Pray you content you.

Troy. What offends you Lady?

Cref. Sir, mine owne company.

Troy. You cannot ſun your ſelfe.

Cref. Let me goe and try :

I haue a kinde of ſelfe recides with you :

But an vnkinde ſelfe, that it ſelfe will leaue,

To be anothers ſoole. Where is my wif?

I would be gone : I ſpeake I know not what.

Troy. Well know they what they ſpeake, that ſpeakes
ſo wifely.

Cre. Perchance my Lord, I ſhew more craft then loue,
And fell ſo roundely to a large confession,

To Angle for your thoughts: but you are wife,

Or ſelſe you loue not : for to be wife and loue,

Exceedes mans might, that dwels with gods above.

Troy. O that I thought it could be in a woman :

As if it can, I will prefume in you,

To feede for aye her lampe and flames of loue.

To keepe her conſtancie in plight and youth,

Out-living beaunes outward, with a minde.

That doth renew ſwifter then blood decaies :

Or that perſwafion could but thus conſuine me,

That my integritie and truth to you,

Might be affionted with the match and waight

Of ſuch a winnowed puriritie in loue :

How were I then vp-lifted ! but alas,

I am as true, as truths simplictie,

And ſimpler then the infancie of truth.

Crſ. In that Ile warre with you.

Troy. O vertuous fight,

When right with right wars who ſhall be moſt right :

True ſwaines in loue, ſhall in the world to come

Approue their truths by Troyus, when their times,

Full of proteſt, of oath and big compare;

Wants ſimiles, trutsh tir'd with iteration,

As true as fleele, as plantage to the Moone :

As Sunne to day : as Turtle to her mate :

As Iron to Adamant : as Ear h to th' Center :

Yet after all comparisons of truth,

(As truths autnenticke author to be cited)

As true as Troyus, ſhall crowne vp the Verſe,

And ſanctifie the numbers.

Cref. Prophet may you be :

If I be ſalfe, or ſwuer a haire from truth,

When time is old and hath forgot it ſelfe :

When water drops haue worne the Stones of Troy ;

And blinde obliuon ſwallow'd Cities vp :

And mightie States characterleſſe are grated

To duſſie nothing; yet let memory,

From ſalfe to ſalſe, among ſalſe Maids in loue ;

Vpbraid my falſehood, when they' aue faid as ſalſe,

As Aire, as Water, as Winde, as andie earth ;

As Foxe to Lambe; as Wolfe to Heifers Calſe ;

Pard to the Hinde, or Stepdame to her Sonne ;

Yea, let them ſay, to ſtike the heart of falſehood,

As

Troylus and Creſida.

As falſe as Creſſid.

Pand. Go too, a bargaine made: feale it, feale it, Ile be the wittenee here I hold your hand; here my Cousins, if euer you proue falſe one to another, since I haue taken ſuch paines to bring you together, let all pittifull goers betweene be cal'd to the worlds end after my name: call them all Panders; let all conſtant men be Troyluffes, all falſe women Creſſids, and all brokers betweene, Panders: lay, Amen.

Troy. Amen.

Cref. Amen.

Pan. Amen.

Whereupon I will ſhow you a Chamber, which bed, be-
cause it shall not ſpeake of your prettie encounters, poffeſe
it to death: away.

And Cupid grant all, tong-tide Maidens heere,

Bcd,Chamber,and Pander,to prouide this geere. Exeunt.

Enter Vluffes, Diomedes, Nestor, Agamemnon,
Menelaus and Chalzas. Florish.

Cal. Now Princes for the ſeruice I haue done you,
Th'aduantage of the time prompts me aloud,
To call for recompence: appears it to your minde,
That through the fight I beare in things to loue,
I hane abandon'd Troy, left my poſſellion,
Incur'd a Traitors name, expon'd my ſelfe,
From certaine and poſſet conueniences,
To doubtfull fortunes, ſequeſtring from me all
That time, acquaintance, custome and condition,
Made tame, and moſt familiar to my nature;
And here to doe you ſeruice am become,
As new into the world, ſtrange, vnacquainted.
I doe beſech you, as in way of taſſe,
To giue me now a little benefit:
Out of thofe many regiſtred in promise,
Which you ſay, liue to come in my behalfe.

Agam. What would't thou of vs Trojan? make
demand?

Cal. You haue a Trojan prifoner, cal'd Anthenor,
Yefterday tooke: Troy holds him very deere.
Oft haue you (often haue you, thankes therefore)
Deſir'd my Creſſid in right great exchange.
Whom Troy hath ſtill deni'd: but this Anthenor,
I know is ſuch a wreſt in their affaires;
That their negotiations all muſt flacke,
Wanting his mannage: and they will almoſt,
Gue vs a Prince of blood, a Sonne of Priam,
In change of him. Let him be ſent great Princes,
And he ſhall buy my Daughter: and her prefence,
Shall quite ſtrike off all ſeruice I haue done,
In moſt accepted paine.

Aga. Let Diomedes beare him,

And bring vs Creſſid bither: Calcas shall haue

What he requeſts of vs: good Diomed

Furniſh you fairely for this enterchange;

Withall bring word, if Hector will to morrow

Be anſwer'd in his challenge. Aiax is ready.

Dio. This ſhall I vndertake, and 'tis a burthen
Which I am proud to beare.

Exit.

Enter Achilles and Patroclus in their Tent.

Vlſ. Achilles stands i'th entrance of his Tent;
Please it our Generall to paffe ſtrangely by him,
As if he were ſorg'd: and Princes all,
Lay negligent and loose regard vpon him;
I will come laſt, 'tis like heele question me,

Why ſuch vnplaſuie eyes are bent ? why turn'd on him?
If so, I haue derision medicinable,

To vie betweene your ſtrangeneſſe and his pride,
Which his owne will ſhall haue deſire to drinke;
It may doe good, pride haue no other glaſſe
To ſhow it ſelfe, but pride: for ſupple knees,
Feede arrogance, and are the proud mans fees,

Agam. Weele execute your purpofe, and put on
A forme of ſtrangeneſſe as we paffe along,
So doe each Lord, and either greere him not,
Or else diſdainfully, which ſhall ſhake him more,
Then if not lookt on. I will lead the way.

Achil. What comes the Generall to ſpeake with me?
You know my minde, Ile fight no more' gainſt Troy.

Aga. What faies Achilles, would he ought with vs?

Nef. Would you my Lord ought with the Generall?

Achil. No.

Nef. Nothing my Lord.

Aga. The better.

Achil. Good day, good day.

Men. How doe you? how doe you?

Achi. What, do's the Cuckold ſcorne me?

Aiax. How now Patroclus?

Achil. Good morrow Aiax?

Aiax. Ha.

Achil. Good morrow.

Aiax. I, and good next day too.

Exeunt.

Achil. What meane theſe ſellowes? know they moſt
Achilles?

Patr. They paffe by ſtrangely: they were vſd to ben-
To ſend their ſimiles before them to Achilles:
To come as humbly as they vs'd to creepe to holy Altars.

Achil. What am I poore of late?
'Tis certaine, greateneſſe once ſalue out with fortune,
Muſt fall out with men too: what the declin'd is,
He ſhall as ſoon eade in the eyes of others,
As ſeele in his owne fall: for men like butter-flies,
Shew not their mealie wings, but to the Summer:
And not a man for being ſimply man,
Hath any honour; but honour'd for thofe honours
That are without him; as place, riches, and ſaunour,
Prizes of accident, as oſt as merrit:
Which when they fall, as being ſlippy ſtanders;
The loue that leand on them as ſlippy too,
Doth one plucke downe another, and together
Dye in the fall. But 'tis not so with me;
Fortune and I are friends, I doe enioy
At ample point, all that I did poſſeſſe,
Saue theſe mens lookes: who do me thinkes finde out
Something not worth in me ſuch rich beholding,
As they haue often giuen. Here is Vluffes,
Ile interuict his reading: how now Vluffes?

Vlſ. Now great Theſi's Sonne.

Achil. What are you reading?

Vlſ. A ſtrange fellow here

Writes me, that man, how dearely euer parted,
How much in hauing, or without, or in,
Cannot make boat to haue that which he hath;
Nor feeles not what he owes, but by reflection :
As when his vertues ſhining vpon others,
Heate them, and they retort that heate againe
To the firſt guer.

Achil. This is not ſtrange Vlſſes:
The beautie that is borne here in the face,
The bearer knowes not, but commends it ſelfe,
Not going from it ſelfe: but eye to eye oppos'd,

Salutes.

["Troylus and Creſida.", "Salutes each other with each others forme.", "For ſpeculation turns not to it ſelfe,", "Till it hath trauail'd, and is married there", "Where it may ſee it ſelfe : this is not ſtrange at all,", "Uſi. I do not ſtraine it at the position,", "It is familiar; but at the Authors drift,", "Who in his circumſtance, expreſſy proues", "That no may is the Lord of any thing,", "(Though in and of him there is much conſtiling.)", "Till he communicate his parts to others :", "Nor doth he of himſelfe know them for ought,", "Till he behold them formed in th'applaufe,", "Where they are extended : who like an arch reuerb'rate", "The voyce againe; or like a gate of ſeele,", "Fronting the Sunne, receives and renders backe", "His figure, and his heate. I was much rapt in this,", "And apprehended here immediately :", "The vnknowne Aiax;", "Heauens what a man is there? a very Horſe,", "(are)", "That has he knowes not what. Nature, what things there\nMoſt abiect in regard, and deare in vſe.", "What things againe moſt deere in the eſtreme,", "And poore in worth : now ſhall we ſee to morrow,\nAnaſt that very chance doth throw vpon him?", "Aiax renown'd ? O heauens, what ſome men doe,", "While (some men leave to doe !", "How ſome men crecpe in skittiſh fortunes hall,", "Whiles others play the I deots in her eyes :", "How one man eates into anothers pride,", "While pride is feaſting in his wanronneſſe", "To ſee the ſeerean Grecian Lords; why, euen already,", "They clap the lubber Aiax on the ſhoulder,", "As if his foote were on braue Hectors breſt,", "And great Troy drinking.", "Achil. I doe beleeue it :", "For they paſt by me, as my ſers doe by beggars,", "Neither gaue to me good word, nor looke:", "What are my deedes ſorgot?", "Uſi. Time hath (my Lord) a wallet at his backe,", "Wherein he puts almes for obliuion :", "A great fiz'd monſter of ingratitudes :", "Thofe ſcraps are good deedes paſt,", "Which are deour'd as faſt as they are made,", "Forged as ſoon as done : perſeuance, deere my Lord,", "Keepes honor bright, to haue done, is to hang", "Quite out of fashion, like a ruffiſe male,", "In monumentall mockrie : take the inſtant way,", "For honour trauels in a ſtraight ſo narrow,", "Where one but goes a breaſt; keepe then the path", "For emulation hath a thouſand Sonnes,", "That one by one purſue ; if you give way,", "Othedge adide from the direct fourth right ;", "Like to an entred Tyde, they all ruff by,", "And leauie you hindmoſt :", "Or like a gallant Horſe falne in firſt ranke,", "Lye there for paurement to the abiect, neere", "Ore-run and trampled on: then what they doe in preſent,", "Though leſſe then yours in paſt, muſt ore-top yours :", "Fortime is like a fashional Hoffe,", "That slightly shakes his parting Gueſt by th'hand,", "And with his armes out-stretcht, as he would flye,", "Graſſes in the commer : the welcome euer ſmiles,", "And farewels goes ouſtſighting : O let not vertue ſeeke", "Remuneration for the thing it was for beautitie, wit", "High birth, vigour of bone, defest in ſeruice,", "Loue, friendſhip, charity, are ſubieſts all", "To enuious and calamitiuſh time:", "One touch of nature makes the whole world kin :", "That all with one conſent praiſe new borne gaudes,", "Though they are made and moulded of things paſt,", "And goe to duſt, that is a little guilt,", "More laud then guilt orduſt.", "The preſent eye praiſes the preſt obieſt :", "Then maruell not thou great and compleat man,", "That all the Greekes begin to worſhip Aiax;", "Since things in motion begin to catch the eye,", "Then what not flirs : the cry went out on thee,", "And fill it might, and yet it may againe,", "If thou would'ſt not entombe thy ſelfe alive,", "And cafe thy reputation in thy Tent ;", "Whofe glorious deedes, but in theſe fields of late,", "Made emulous miſions 'mongſt the gods themſelues,", "And draue great Mars to ſaction,", "Achil. Of this my priuacie,", "I haue ſtrong reaſons.", "Uſi. But 'gainſt your priuacie", "The reaſons are more potent and heroy call :", "Tis knowne Achilles, that you are in loue", "With one of Priams daughters.", "Achil. Ha ? knowne?", "Uſi. Is that a wonder?", "The prouidence that's in a watchfull State,", "Knowes almoſt every graime of Plutoes gold ;", "Findes bottome in tin vnscomprehenſiue deepes ;", "Keepes place with thought; and almoſt like the gods,", "Doe thoughts vnauile in their dumbe cradles :", "There is a myſterie (with whom relation", "Durfteuern meddle) in the ſoule of State ;", "Which hath an operation more diuine,", "Then breath or open can giue expreſſure to:", "All the commerſe that you haue had with Troy,", "As perfectly is ours, as yours, my Lord,", "And better would it fit Achilles much,", "To throw downe Hector then Polixena.", "But it muſt grieue yong Pirbus now at home,", "When fame ſhall in her land found her trumpe ;", "And all the Greekiſh Girles ſhall tripping ſing,", "Great Hectors ſifter did Achilles winne ;", "But our great Aiax braely beate downe him.", "Farewell my Lord : I as your louer ſpeake ;", "The foole ſlides ore the ſee that you ſhould breake.", "Patr. To this effect Achilles haue I moud you;", "A woman impudent and mannifth growne,", "Is not more loth'd, then an effeminate man,", "In time of action : I ſtand condemn'd for this ;", "They thinke my little ſomacke to the warre.", "And your great loue to me, ſteſtraines you thus :", "Sweete, rouse your ſelfe; and the weake wanton Cupid", "Shall from your necke vnloofe his amorous ſould,", "And like a dew drop from the Lyons mane,", "Be ſhooke to ayrie ayre.", "Achil. Shall Aiax fight with Hector ?", "Patr. I, and perhaps receiue much honer by him,", "Achil. I ſee my reputation is at ſtake,", "My fame is ſhrowdly g

Troylus and Crefsidæ.

He fend the foole to *Aiax*, and defire him

T'invite the Trojan Lords after the Combat

To see vs here vnarm'd: I haue a womans longing,

An appetite that I am fique withall,

To see great *Heffor* in his weedes of peace; Enter *Theris*.

To talke with him, and to behold his vifage,

Even to my full of view. A labour fau'd.

*Ther.* A wonder.

*Achil.* What?

*Ther.* *Aiax* goes vp and downe the field, asking for himselfe.

*Achil.* How lo?

*Ther.* Hee muſt fight ſingly to morrow with *Heffor*, and is ſo prophetically proud of an heroicall cudgelling, that he raues in faying nothing.

*Achil.* How can that be?

*Ther.* Why he ſalkes vp and downe like a Peacock, a ſtride and a ſtands: ruminates like an hoſſeſſe, that hath no Arithmatique but her braine to ſet downe her reckoning: bites his lip with a politique regard, as who ſhould ſay, there were within his head and twoo'd out; and ſo there is: but it lyes as coldly in him, as fire in a flint, which will not ſhew without knocking. The mans vndone for euer; for if *Heffor* breake not his necke i'th' combat, heele break't himſelfe in vaine-glory. He knowes not mee: I faid, good morrow *Aiax*; And he replyes, thankes *Agamemnon*. What thinke you of this man, that takes me for the Generall? Hee's growne a very lang-ſiſh, languageſſe, a monſter : a plague of opinion, a man may weare it on both ſides like a leather Ierkin.

*Achil.* Thou muſt be my Ambaffador to him *Therisfes*.

*Ther.* Who, I: why, heele anſwer no body: he proceeds notanſwering; ſpeaking is for beggers: he weares his tongue in's armes: I will put on his prefence; let *Patroclus* make his demands to me, you ſhall fee the Pageant of *Aiax*.

*Achil.* To him *Patroclus*; tell him, I humbly defire the valiant *Aiax*, to inuite the moſt valorous *Heffor*, to come vnarm'd to my Tent, and to procure ſafe conduct for his perſon, of the magnanimious and moſt ilſtrous, ſixe or ſeaue times honour'd Captaine, Generall of the Grecian Armie *Agamemnon*, &c. doe this.

*Patro.* *Ione* bleſſe great *Aiax*.

*Ther.* Hum.

*Patr.* I come from the worthy *Aehilles*.

*Ther.* Ha?

*Patr.* Who moſt humbly defires you to inuite *Heffor* to his Tent.

*Ther.* Hum.

*Patr.* And to procure ſafe conduct from *Agamemnon*.

*Ther.* *Agamemnon*?

*Patr.* I my Lord.

*Ther.* Ha?

*Patr.* What ſay you too't.

*Ther.* God buy you with all my heart.

*Patr.* Your anſwer fir.

*Ther.* If to morrow be a faire day, by eleuen a clocke it will goe one way or other; howſoever, he ſhall pay for me ere he has me.

*Patr.* Your anſwer fir.

*Ther.* Fare you well withall my heart.

*Achil.* Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?

*Ther.* No, but he's out a tune thus: what muſicke will be in him when *Heffor* has knockt out his braines, I know not: but I am ſure none, vnleſſe the Fidler *Apollo* get his

ſinewes to make catlings on.

*Achil.* Come, thou ſhalt beare a Letter to him straight.

*Ther.* Let me carry another to his Horſe; for that's the more capable creature.

*Achil.* My minde is troubled like a Fountaine fir'd, And I my ſelfe fee not the bottome of it.

*Ther.* Would the Fountaine of your minde were cleere againe, that I might water an Aſſe at it: I had rather be a Ticke in a Sheepe, then ſuch a valiant ignorance.

Enter at one door *Æneas with a Torch, at another Paris, Diephæbus, Anthenor, Diomed the Grecian, with Torches*.

*Par.* See hoa, who is that there?

*Dieph.* It is the Lord *Æneas*.

*Æne.* Is the Prince there in person?

Had I ſo good occation to lye long As you Prince *Paris*, nothing but heauenly buſineſſe, Should rob my bed-mate of my company.

*Diom.* That's my minde too: good morrow *Loú* *Æneas*.

*Par.* A valiant Greeke *Æneas*, take his hand, Witneſſe the proceſſe of your Ipeech within; You told how *Diomed* in a whole weeke by dayes Did haunt you in the Field.

*Æne.* Health to you valiant fir, During all question of the gentle truce: But when I meete you arm'd, as blacke defiance, As hea't can thinke, or courage execute.

*Diom.* The one and other *Diomed* embraces, Out blouds are now in calme; and ſo long health: But when contention, and occasion meetes, By *Ione*, Ile play the hunter for thy life, With all my force, purſuite and policy.

*Æne.* And thou ſhalt hunt a Lyon that will ſky With his ſace backward, in humaine gentlenefſe: Welcome to Troy; now by *Achilles* life, Welcome indeede: by *Venus* hand I ſweare, No man alway can loue in ſuch a ſort, The thing he meanes to kill, more excellently.

*Diom.* We ſimpathize. *Ione* let *Æneas* line (If to my ſword his fate be not the glory) A thousandd complete courſes of the Sunne, But in mine emulous honor let him dye: With euery ioynt a wound, and that to morrow.

*Æne.* We know each other well.

*Dio.* We doe, and long to know each other worſe.

*Par.* This is the moſt, deſpightful it gentle greeting: The nobleſt hatefull loue, that ere I heard of.

*What buſineſſe Lord ſo early?*

*Æne.* I was ſent for to the Kings, but why, I know not. *Par.* His purpose meets you; it was to bring this Greece To Calcha's houſe; and there to render him, For the enfreed *Anthenor*, the faire *Crefrid*: Lers haue your company; or if you pleaſe, Haste there before vs. I conſantly doe thinke (Or rather call my thought a certaine knowledge) My brother *Troylus* lodges there to night. Rouse him, and giue him note of our approach, With the whole quality whereof, I feare We shall be much vnwelcome.

*Æne.* That I affure you: *Troylus* had rather Troy were borne to Greece, Then *Crefrid* borne from Troy.

*Par.* *Theris*.

Troylus and Crefida.

Par. There is no helpe :

The bitter dispoſition of the time will haue it so.
On Lord, weele follow you.

Aene. Good morrow all.

Exit Æneas

Par. And tell me noble Diomed; faith tell me true,
Euen in the foule of found good fellow ship,
Who in your thoughts merits faire Helen moſt ?
My ſelfe, or Alencanus?

Diom. Both alike.

He merits well to haue her, that doth ſeeke her,
Not making any ſuple of her ſoylure,
With ſuch a hell of paine, and world of charge.
And you as well to keepe her, that defend her,
Not pallating the tafe of her diſhonour,
With ſuch a costly loffe of wealth and friends:
He like a puling Cuckold, would drinke vp

The lees and dregs of a flat tamed peecce :

You like a fetcher, out of whorish loynes,

Are pleaf'd to breede out your inheritors:

Both merits poyz'd, each weighs no leſſe nor more,

But heas he, which heavier for a whore.

Par. You are too bitter to your country-woman.

Di. Shee's bitter to her country: heare me Paris,

For euery falſe drop in her baudy veines,

A Grecians life hath ſunke : for euery ſuple

Other contaminated carrion weight,

A Trojan hath beene ſilene. Since ſhe could ſpeake,

She hath not giuen ſo many good words breath,

As for her, Greekes and Troians ſuſſed death.

Par. Faire Diomed, you doe as chapmen doe,

Dil prieſe the thing that you deſire to buy:

But we in ſilence hold this vertue well;

Weele not commend, what we intend to ſell.

Here lies our way.

Exeunt.

Enter Troylus and Crefida.

Troy. Deere trouble not your ſelfe: the morne is cold.

Cref. Then ſweet my Lord, Ile call mine Vnkleed down;

He ſhall vnbolt the Gates.

Troy. Trouble him not:

Tobed, to bed: ſleepe kill thofe pritty eyes,

And giue as ſoft attachment to thy fences,

As Infants empty of all thought.

Cref. Good morrow then.

Troy. I priſhee now to bed.

Cref. Are you a weary of me?

Troy. O Crefida ! but that the buſie day

Wak't by the Larke, hath rouz'd the ribauld Crowes,

And dreaming night will hide our eyes no longer :

I would not from thee.

Cref. Night hath beene too briefe.

(stayes,

Troy. Beſhrew the witch! with venemous wights (he

As hidiously as hell; but flies the graſpes of loue,

With wings more momentary, ſwift then thought:

You will catch cold, and curie me.

Cref. Priſhee tarry you men will neuer tarry ;

O foolish Crefrid, I might haue full held off,

And then you would haue tarried. Harke, ther's one vp?

Pand, within. What's all the doores open here?

Troy. It is your Vnkle.

Enter Pandarus.

Cref. A poffeffence on him; now will he be mocking:

I shall haue ſuch a life.

Pan. How now, how now? how goe maiden-heads?

Heare you Maide: where's my cozin Crefrid?

Cref. Go hang your ſelf, you naughty mocking Vnkle:

You bring me to doo— and then you floute me too.

Pan. To do what? to do what ? let her ſay what :

What haue I brought you to doe?

Cref. Come, come, beſhrew your heart: youl'e nere be
good, nor ſuffer others.

Pan. Ha, ha: alas poore wretch: a poore Chipochia, haſt
not ſlept to night? would he not (a naughty man) let it
ſleepe: a bug-beare take him.

One knocks.

Cref. Did not I tell you? would he were knoackt ıth
head. Who's that at doore ? good Vnkle goe and ſee.
My Lord, come you againe into my Chamber :

You ſmile and mocke me, as if I meant naughtily.

Troy. Ha, ha.

Cre. Come you are deceiu'd, I thinke of no ſuch thing.
How earneſtly they knoake: pray you come in. Knooke,
I would not for halſe Troy have you ſene here. Exeunt

Pan. Who's there ? what's the matter? will you beare
downe the doore ? How now, what's the matter?

Aene. Good morrow Lord, good morrow.

Pan. Who's there my Lord? Aeneas? by my troth I
knew you not: what newes with you to early?

Aene. Is not Prince Troylus here?

Pan. Here? How should he doe here?

Aene. Come he is here, my Lord, do not deny him:
It doth import him much to ſpeake with me.

Pan. Is he here ſay you ? 'tis more then I know, Ile be
ſworne: For my owne part I came in late: what ſhould
he doe here?

Aene. Who, nay then: Come, come, youle doe him
wrong, ere y're ware: youle be ſo true to him, to be
ſalfe to him: Doe not you know of him, but yet goe fetch
him hither, goe.

Enter Troylus.

Troy. How now, what's the matter?

Aene. My Lord, I ſearce haue leifure to ſalute you,
My matter is ſo rafh : there is at hand,

Paris your brother, and Deiphabus,

The Grecian Diomed, and our Anthenor

Deliver'd to vs, and for him forthwith,

Ere the first ſacrifice, within this hour,

We muſt giue vp to Diomed's hand

The Lady Crefida.

Troy. Is it concluded so?

Aene. By Priam, and the generall ſtate of Troy,
They are at hand, and ready to effect it.

Troy. How my atchievements mocke me;

I will goe meete them: and my Lord Aeneas,

We met by chance; you did not finde me here.

Aen. Good, good, my Lord, the ſecrets of nature

Hae not more gift in taciturnitie.

Exeunt.

Enter Pandarus and Crefida.

Pan. Is't possible? no ſooner got but loft : the diuell
take Anthenor; the yong Prince will goe mad : a plague
upon Anthenor; I would they had brok his neeke.

Cref. How now ? what's the matter ? who was here?

Pan. Ah, ha!

Cref. Why ſigh you to profoundly? wher's my Lord?
gone ? tell me ſwect Vnkle, what's the matter?

Pan. Would I were as deepe under the earth as I am
aboue.

Cref. O the gods! what's the matter?

Pan. Priſhee get thee in: would thou had it nere been
borne; I knew thou would it be his death. O poore Gen-
tleman: a plague upon Anthenor.

452

Cref. Good

Troylus and Crefsidæ.

To which the Grecians are moſt prompt and pregnant:
But I can tell that in each grace of these,
There lurkes a ſill and dumb-difſcourſe diuell,
That tempts moſt cunningly: but be not tempted.

Cref. Doe you thinke I will:

Troy. No, but ſomething may be done that we will not:
And ſometimes we are diuels to our ſelues,
When we will tempt the frailtie of our powers,
Prefuming on their changefull potencie.

Æneas within. Nay, good my Lord?

Troy. Come kiffe, and let vs part.

Paris within. Brother Troylus?

Troy. Good brother come you hither,
And bring Æneas and the Grecian with you.

Cref. My Lord, will you be true?

Troy. Who I? alas it is my vice, my fault:
Whiles others fifth with craft for great opinion,
I, with great truth, catch meere ſimplicitie:
Whilf't come with cunning guild their copper crownes,
With truth and plainneſſe I doe weare mine bare:

Exit.

Enter the Greekes.

Feare not my truth; the morrall of my wit
Is plaine and true, ther's all the reach of it.

Welcome fir Diomed, here is the Lady
Which for Antenor, we deliver you.

At the port (Lord) Ile giue her to thy hand,
And by the way poſſeſſe thee what ſhe is.

Entreate her faire; and by my ſoule, faire Greece,
Ifere thou fland at mercy of my Sword,

Name Crefrid, and thy life ſhall be as ſafe
As Priam is in Illion?

Diom. Faire Lady Crefsid,

So please you ſauethe thankes this Prince expeſts:
The luſtre in youreye, heauen in your cheeke,
Pleades your faire viſage, and to Diomed

You shall be miſſeſſe, and command him wholly.

Troy. Grecian, thou doſt not vſe me curteouſly,
To flame the feale of my petition towards,
I priefing her. I tell thee Lord of Greece:
Shee is as farre high foaring o're thy priefes,
As thou vnworthy to be cal'd her ſeruant:
I charge thee vſe her well, euen for my charge:
For by the dreadfull Pluto, if thou doſt not,
(Though the great bulke Æchilles be thy guard)
Ile cutt h' throat.

Diom. Oh be not mou'd Prince Troylus;
Let me be prieuileg'd by my place and meſſage,
To be a ſpeake free ? when I am hence,
Ile anſwer to my luſt: and know my Lord;
Ile nothing do on charge: to her owne worth

She shall be priz'd: but that you ſay, be't so;
Ile ſpeake it in my ſpirit and honor, no.

Troy. Come to the Port. Ile tell thee Diomed,
This braue, shall oft make thee to hide thy head:
Lady giue me your hand, and as we walke,
To our owne ſelues bend we our neeſdefull talke.

Sound Trumpet.

Par. Harke, Hæſtors Trumpet.

Æne. How haue we spent this morning
The Prince muſt thinke me tardy and remiſſe,
That ſwere to ride before him in the field.

Par. 'Tis Troylus ſault: come, come, to field with him,

Exeunt.

Dio. Let vs make ready ſtraight.

Æne. Yea, with a Bridegtoomes fresh alacritie

Let vs addreſſe to tend on Hæſtors heeles:

The glory of our Troy doth this day lye
On his faire worth, and single Chivalrie.

Enter Aiax armed, Achilles, Patroclus, Agamemnon,
Menelaus, Vliffes, Neſter, Calcas, &c.

Aga. Here art thou in appointment fresh and faire,
Anticipating time. With flarting courage,
Gieu with thy Trumpet a loud note to Troy
Thou dreadfull Aiax, that the appaued aire
May pierce the head of the great Combatant,
And hale him hither.

Aia. Thou, Trumpet, ther's my pufſe;
Now cracke thy lungs, and split thy braſen pipe;
Blow villaine, till thy ſpher'd Biaſ cheeke
Out ſwell the collicke of puſt Aquilon:
Come, ſtretch thy cheſt, and let thy eyes ſpout bloud:
Thou bloweſt for Hæſtor.

Vlſe. No Trumpet anſwers.

Achil. 'Tis but early dayes.

Aga. Is not young Diomed with Calcas daughter?

Vlſe. 'Tis he, I ken the manner of his gate,
He riles on the toe: that ſpirit of his
In aspiration lifts him from the earth.

Aga. Is this the Lady Crefsid?

Dio. Even ſhe.

Aga. Moſt deereely welcome to the Greekes, Iſeete
Lady.

Neſt. Our Generall doth ſalute you with a kiffe.

Vlſe. Yet is the kindeneſſe but particular; 'twere beter ſhe were kift in general.

Neſt. And very courtly counſell: Ile begin. So much
for Neſter.

Achil. Ile take that winter from your lips faire Lady
Achilles bids you welcome.

Mene. I had good argument for killing once.

Patro. But that's no argument for killing now;
For thus pop't Paris in his hardiment.

Vlſe. Oh deadly gall, and theame of all our ſcornes,
For which we looke our heads, to gild his hornes.

Patro. The firſt was Menelaus kiffe, this mine:
Patroclus kiffes you.

Mene. Oh this is trim.

Patro. Paris and I kiffe euermore for him.

Mene. Ile haue my kiffe fir: : Lady by your leane.

Cref. In killing doe you render, or receive.

Patro. Both take and giue.

Cref. Ile make my match to line,
The kiffe you take is better then you giue: therefore no
kiffe.

Mene. Ile giue you boote, Ile giue you three far one.

Cref. You are an odde man, giue euen, or giue none.

Mene. An odde man Lady, every man is odde.

Cref. No, Parus is not; for you know 'tis true,

That you are odde, and he is euen with you.

Mene. You fillip me a'th' head.

Cref. No, Ile be ſworne.

Vlſe. It were no match, your naile againſt his horne:
May I ſwecte Lady beg a kiffe of you?

Cref. You may.

Vlſe. I do ſeſire it.

Cref. Why begge then?

Vlſe. Why then for Venuſ ſake, giue me a kiffe:
When Hellen is a maide againe, and his—

Cref. I am your debtor, claime it when 'tis due.

I f 3

Vlſe. Neuer's

["Troylus and Crefsidæ.", "Vilſ. Neuer's my day, and then a kiffe of you.", "Diom. Lady a word, Ile bring you to your Father.", "Neſt. A woman of quicke fence.", "Vilſ. Fie, ſie, vpon her :", "Ther's a language in her eye, her cheeke, her lip;", "Nay, her foote ſpakes, her wanton ſpirites ſooke out", "At every ioynt, and moriue of her body :", "Oh theſe encounterers ſo glib of tongue,", "That gue a coaſtling welcome eſt it comes ;", "And wide vnclaspe the tables of their thoughts,", "To every tickling reader : fet them downe,", "For fluttifh ſpoyles of opporuntie ;", "And daughters of the game.", "Exennt.", "Enter all of Troy, Hector, Paris, Æneas, Helenus and Attendants. Florish.", "All. The Troians Trumpet.", "Aga. Yonder comes the troupe.", "Æne. Haile all you ſtate of Greece: what thathalbe done", "To him that victory commands ? or doe you purpofe,", "A vicer shall be knowne : will you the Knights", "Shall to the edge of all extremite", "Purſue each other; or ſhall be diuided", "By any voyce, or order of the field: Hector bad aske?", "Aga. Which way would Hector haue it?", "Æne. He cares not, heele obey conditions.", "Aga. 'Tis done like Hector, but ſecurely done,", "A little proudly, and great deale diſprifing", "The Knight oppos'd.", "Æne. If not Achilles fir, what is your name ?", "Achil. If not Achilles, nothing.", "Æne. Therefore Achilles: but what ere, know this,\nIn the extremity of great and little :", "Valour and pride excell themſelues in Hector ;", "The one almoſt as infinite as all;", "The other blanke as nothing: weigh him well :", "And that which looks like pride, is curſeſe :", "This Aiax is halfe made of Hectors cloud;", "In loue whereof, halſe Hector ſtaies at home :", "Halſe heart, halſe hand, halſe Hector, comes to ſeeke", "This blended Knight, halſe Trojan, and halſe Greeke.", "Achil. A maiden battaile then ? O I perceiue you.", "Aga. Here is fir, Diomed: goe gentle Knight,\nStand by our Aiax: as you and Loid Æneas", "Conſent vpon the order of their fight,", "So be it: either to the vttermoſt,", "Or eſſe a breach: the Combatants being kin,", "Halſe ſtints their ſtrife, before their ſtrokes begin.", "Vilſ. They are oppos'd already.", "Aga. What Trojan is that fame that looks ſo foamy?", "Vilſ. The yonge ſonne of Priam :", "A true Knight; they call him Troylus ;", "Not yet mature, yet mitchleſſe, firme of word,", "Speaking in deedes, and deedeleſſe in his tongue ;", "Not ſoone prouok'd, nor being prouok't, ſoone calm'd;", "His heart and hand both open, and both free :", "For what he has, he giues ; what thinkes, he ſhewes ;", "Yet giues he not till iudgement guide his bounty,", "Nor dignifies an impaire thought with breath :", "Manly as Hectors, but more dangerous ;", "For Hector in his blaze of wrath ſubſcribes", "To tender obiects; but he, in heate of action,\nIs more vindecatiue then icalous loue.", "They call him Troylus; and on him erect,", "A ſecond hope, as fairely built as Hector.", "Thus ſaies Æneas, one that knowes the youth,", "Euen to his inches : and with priuate ſoule,", "Did in great Illion thus translate him to me.", "Alarum.", "Aga. They are in action.", "Neſt. Now Aiax hold thine owne.", "Troy. Hector, thou ſleep'st, awake thee.", "Aga. His blowes are wel diſpos'd there Aiax, troupes", "Diom. You muſt no more.", "Æne. Princes enough, ſo pleafe you,", "Aiax. I am not warme yet, let vs fight againe.", "Diom. As Hector pleafes.", "Hecſt. Why then will I no more:", "Thou art great Lord, my Fathers lifters Sonne;", "A couſen german to great Priams ſeede:", "The obligation of our bloud forbids", "Agorie emulation'twixt vs twaine :", "Were thy commixion, Greeke and Trojan ſo,", "That thou could'ſt ſay, this hand is Grecian all,", "And this is Trojan: the ſinewes of this Legge,", "All Greeke, and this all Troy : my Mothers bloud", "Runs on the dexter cheeke, and this finifter", "Bounds in our fathers : by Ione multipotent,", "Thou should'ſt not beare from me a Greekiſh member", "Wherein my ſword had not imprefſure made", "Of our ranke ſeud : but the iuſt gods gainſay,", "That any drop thou borwood ſt from thy mother,", "My ſacred Aunt, ſhould by my mortall ſword", "Be drained. Let me embrace thee Aiax :", "By him that thunders, thou haſt luſtie Armes;", "Hector would haue them fall vpon him thus,", "Cozen, all honor to thee.", "Aiax. I thanke thee Hector :", "Thou art too gentle, and too free a man :", "I came to kill thee Cozen, and beare hence", "A great addition, earned in thy death.", "Hecſt. Not Neoptolymus ſo mirable,", "On whose bright creſt, fame with her lowd ſt (O yes)", "Cries, This is he; could'ſt promife to himſelfe,", "A thought of added honor, torne from Hector.", "Æne. There is expeſtance here from both the fides,", "What further you will do?", "Hecſt. Weele anſwe're it:", "The iſſe is embracement: Aiax, farewell.", "Aiax. If I might in entreaties ſinde ſucceffe,", "As ſeld I haue the chance; I would define", "My famous Couſin to our Grecian Tents.", "Diom. 'Tis Agamemnon with, and great Achilles\nDoth long to ſee vnarm'd the valiant Hector.", "Hecſt. Æneas, call my brother Troylus to me:", "And ſignifie this louing enterview", "To the expeſters of our Trojan part :", "Defire them home. Giue me thy hand, my Couſin:", "I will goe eate with thee, and ſee your Knights.", "Enter Agamemnon and the reſt.", "Aiax. Great Agamemnon comes to meete vs here.", "Hecſt. The worthieſt of them, tell me name by name:", "But for Achilles, mine owne ferching eyes", "Shall ſinde him by his large and portly ſize.", "Aga. Worthy of Armes: as welcome as to one", {"bbox": [684, 1215, 936, 124

Troylus and Crefsid.

Which with my Cemitar Ile coole to morrow:

Patroclus, let vs Feast him to the hight.

Pat. Heere comes Therfites.

Enter Therfites.

Achil. How now, thou core of Enuy ?

Thou crufty batch of Nature, what's the newes ?

Ther. Why thou picture of what thou seem'st, & Idoll of Ideot-worshippers, here's a Letter for thee.

Achil. From vnence, Fragment ?

Ther. Why thou full dish of Foole, from Troy.

Pat. Who keeps the Tent now?

Ther. The Surgeons box, or the Patients wound.

Patr. Well said aduety, and what need these tricks?

Ther. Prythee be silent boy, I profit not by thy talke, thou art thought to be Achilles male Varlot.

Patro. Male Varlot you Rogue ? What's that?

Ther. Why his masculine Whore. Now the rotten difeasles of the South, gues-griping Ruptures, Catarres, Loades a grauell i'th'backe, Lethargics, cold Palfies, and the like, take and take againe, such prepoſtous discou-ries.

Pat. Why thou damnable box of enuy thou, what mean'st thou to curſe thus?

Ther. Do I curſe thee?

Patr. Why no, you ruinous But, you whorſon indi-ftinguishable Curre.

Ther. No? why art thou then exasperate, thou idle, immateriall skiene of Sleyd ſilke; thou greene Sarcenet flap for a fore eye, thou taffell of a Prodigals purſe thou: Ah how the poore world is peſtred with ſuch water-flies, diminutives of Nature.

Pat. Out gall.

Ther. Finch Egge.

Ach. My sweete Patroclus, I am thwarted quite From my great purpose in to morrowes battell:

Heere is a Letter from Queene Hecuba, A token from her daughter, my faire Loue, Both taxing me, and gaging me to keepe

An Oath that I haue ſworne. I will not breake it, Fall Greekes, faile Fame, Honor or go, or ſlay, My maior vow lyes heere; this Ile obay:

Come, come, Therſites, helpe to trim my Tent, This night in banqueting muſt all be spent.

Away Patroclus.

Exii.

Ther. With too much blood, and too little Brain, the two may run mad : but if with too much braine, and too little blood, they do, Ile be a curer of madmen. Heere's Agamemnon, an honest fellow enough, and one that loues Quailes, but he has not so much Braine as care-wax; and the goodly transformation of Jupiter there his Brother, the Bull, the primatiue Statue, and oblique memoriall of Cuckolds, a thrifty ſhooing-horne in a chaine, hanging at his Brothers legge, to what forme but that he is, (hold wit larded with malice, and malice forced with wit, turne him too: to an Aſſe were nothing; hee is both Aſſe and Oxe; to an Oxe were nothing, hee is both Oxe and Aſſe: to be a Dogge, a Mule, a Cat, a Fitchew, a Toade, a Li-zard, an Owle, a Puttocke, or a Herring without a Roe, I would not care: but to be Menelatus, I would confpire againſt Deſtiny. Aske me not what I would be, if I were not Therſites: for I care not to bee the lowſe of a Lazar, fo I were not Menelatus. Hoy-day, ſpirits and fires.

Enter Hætlor, Aiax, Agamemnon, Vlyſſes, Ne-ſlor, Diomed, with Lights.

Aga. We goe wrong, we goe wrong.

Aiax, No yonder tis, there where we see the light.

Heel. I trouble you.

Aiax. No, not a whit.

Enter Achilles.

Vlſs. Heere comes himſelfe to guide you?

Achil. Welcome braue Hætlor, welcome Princes all.

Agam. So now faire Prince of Troy, I bid goodnight, Aiax commands the guard to tend on you.

Heel. Thanks, and goodnight to the Greeks general.

Men. Goodnight my Lord.

Heel. Goodnight sweet Lord Menelatus.

Ther. Sweet draught: sweet quoth-a? (sweet finke, sweet ſure.)

Achil. Goodnight and welcom, both at once, to theſe that go, or tarry.

Aga. Goodnight,

Achil. Old Nesfor carries, and you too Diomed,

Keepe Hætlor company an houre, or two.

Dio. I cannot Lord, I haue important buſineſſe,

The tide whereof is now, goodnight great Hætlor.

Heel. Giue me your hand.

Vlſs. Follow his Torch, he goes to Chalcas Tent, Ile keepe you company.

Troy. Sweet fir, you honour me.

Heel. And so good night.

Achil. Come, come, enter my Tent.

Exenut.

Ther. That fame Diomed's a ſalfe-hearted Rogue, a moſt vnuiſt Knaue; I will no more truſt him when hee leeres, then I will a Serpent when he hilles: he will ſpend his mouth & promise, like Brabler the Hound; but when he performs, Aſtronomers foretell it, that it is prodigious, there will come ſome change: the Sunne borrows of the Moone when Diomed keepes his word. I will thereafter leaue to ſee Hætlor, then not to dogge him; but they lay, he keepes a Troyan Drab, and vſes the Traitour Chalcas his Tent. Ile after—Nothing but Letcherie? All incontinent Varlets.

Exenut.

Enter Diomed.

Dio. What are you vp here ho ? ſpeake?

Chal. Who cals ?

Dio. Diomed, Chalcas (I thinke) wher's you Daughte?

Chal. She comes to you.

Enter Troylus and Vlyſſes.

Vlſi. Stand where the Torch may not diſcouer vs.

Enter Crefsid.

Troy. Crefsid comes forth to him.

Dio. How now my charge?

Cref. Now my sweet gardian: harke a word with you.

Troy. Yea, to familiar?

Vlſi. She will ſing any man at firſt fight.

Ther. And any man may finde her, if he can take her life: ſhe's noted.

Dio. Will you remember?

Cal. Remember ? yes.

Dio. Nay, but doe then; and let your minde be cou-pled with your words.

Troy. What should ſhe remember?

Vlſi. Lift ?

Cref. Sweete hony Greek, tempt me no more to folly.

Ther. Roguery.

Dio. Nay then.

Cref. Ile tell you what.

Dio. Fo, fo, come tell a pin, you are a forſworne—

Cref. In faith I cannot: what would you haue me do?

Ther. A iugling tricke, to be secretly open.

Dio. What did you ſware you would beſtow on me?

Cref. I prethee do not hold me to mine oath,

Bid me do not any thing but that sweete Greeke.

Dio. Goo.

Troylus and Crefsid.

Dio. Good night.

Troy. Hold, patience.

Vlif. How now Troian ?

Cref. Diomed.

Dio. No, no, good night: Ile be your fooleno more.

Troy. Thy better muft.

Cref. Harke one word in your eare.

Troy. O plague and madneſſe !

Vlif. You are moued Prince, let vs depart I pray you,
Left your diſpleaſure ſhould enlarge it ſelfe
To wrathfull tearmes: this place is dangerous;
The time right deadly : I befech you goe.

Troy. Behold, I pray you.

Vlif. Nay, good my Lord goe off :

You flow to great diſtraCTION : come my Lord ?

Troy. I pray thee ſtay ?

Vlif. You haue not patience, come.

Troy. I pray you ſtay ? by hell and hell torments,
I will not ſpeake a word.

Dio. And ſo good night.

Cref. Nay, but you part in anger.

Troy. Doth that grieue thee? O withered truth !

Vlif. Why, how now Lord ?

Troy. By Ione I will be patient.

Cref. Gardian ? why Greeke ?

Dio. Fo, so, adew, you palter.

Cref. In faith I doe not: come hither once againe.

Vlif. You ſhake my Lord at ſomething; will you goe?
you will breake out.

Troy. She ſtroskes his cheeke.

Vlif. Come, come.

Troy. Nay ſtay, by Ione I will not ſpeake a word.

There is betweene my will, and all offences,

A guard of patience ; ſtay a little while.

Ther. How the diuell Luxury with his fat rume and
potato finger, tickles theſe together : frye lechery, frye.

Dio. But will you then ?

Cref. In faith. I will lo ; neuer truſt me ſelſe.

Dio. Giue me ſome token for the ſurety of it.

Cref. Ile fetch you one.

Vlif. You haue ſwoone patience.

Troy. Feare me not ſwetee Lord.

Exit.

I will not be my ſelfe, nor haue cognition
Of what I feele: I am all patience.

Enter Crefrid.

Ther. Now the pledge, now, now, now.

Cref. Here Diomed, keepe this Sleeue.

Troy. O beautie ! where is thy Faith?

Vlif. My Lord.

Troy. I will be patient, outwardly I will.

Cref. You Jooke upon that Sleeue ? behold it well :

Helou'd me : O falſe wench : giue't me againe.

Dio. Whofe was't ?

Cref. It is no matter now I haue't againe.

I will not meete with you to morrow night :

I prythee Diomed viſite me no more.

Ther. Now ſhe sharpens : well ſaid Whetstone.

Dio. I ſhall haue it.

Cref. What, this ?

Dio. I that.

Cref. O all you gods ! O prettie, prettie pledge ;
Thy Maſter now lies thinking in his bed
Of thee and me, and ſighes, and takes my Gloue,
And gues memoriall daintie kiffes to it;
As I kiffet ce.

Dio. Nay, doe not ſnatch it from me..

Cref. He that takes that, rakes my heart withall.

Dio. I had your heart before, this followes it.

Troy. I did ſware patience.

Cref. You ſhall not haue it Diomed; faith you ſhall not:
Ile giue you ſomething eſſe.

Dio. I will haue this : whose was it?

Cref. It is no matter.

Dio. Come tell me whose it was ?

Cref. 'Twas one that lou'd me beter then you will.

But now you haue it, take it.

Dio. Whofe was it?

Cref. By all Dianas waiting women yond :
And by her ſelfe, I will not tell you whoſe.

Dio. To morrow will I wear it on my Helme,
And grieue his ſpirit that dares not challenge it,

Troy. Wert thou the diuell, and worſt it on thy horne,
It ſhould be challeng'd.

Cref. Well, well, 'tis done, 'tis paſt ; and yet it is not:
I will not keepe my word.

Dio. Why then farewell,
Thou neuer ſhalt mocke Diomed againe.

Cref. You ſhall not goe : one cannot ſpeake a word,
But it ſtrait starts you.

Dio. I do not like this fooling.

Ther. Nor I by Pluto : but that that likes not me, pleaſes me beſt.

Dio. What ſhall I come ? the houre.

Cref. I, come : O Ione ! doe, come : I ſhall be plag'd.

Dio. Farewell till then.

Exit.

Cref. Good night: I prythee come:
Troylus farewell ; one eye yet looks on thee;
But with my heart, the other eye, doth ſee.

Ah poore our ſexe; this ſault in vs I finde :
The error of our eye, directs our minde.

What error leads, muſt erre : O then conclude,

Mindes ſwai'd by eyes, are full of turpitude.

Exit.

Ther. A proofe of ſtrength ſhe could not publish more;
Vnleſſe ſhe ſay, my minde is now turn'd whose.

Vlif. Al's done my Lord.

Troy. It is.

Vlif. Why ſtay we then ?

Ther. To make a recordation to my ſoule
Of every ſyllable that here was ſpoke :

But if I tell how theſe two did coacſ ;

Shall I not lye, in publiſhing a truth ?

Sith yet there is a credence in my heart :

An esperance ſo obſtinately ſtrong,

That doth inuert that teſt of eyes and eares ;

As if that ſoſe organs had deceptioſ us ſunctions,

Created onely to calumniate.

Was Crefled here?

Vlif. I cannot coniure Troian.

Vlif. Moſt ſure ſhe was.

Ther. Why my negation hath no tafe of madneſſe?

Vlif. Nor mine my Lord : Crefled was here but now.

Ther. Let it not be beleeu'd for womanhood :
Thiok we had mothers ; do not giue aduantage

To ſtubborne Criticks, apt without a theame

For depraution, to ſquare the generall ſex

By Crefleds rulſe. Rather thiſe this not Crefled.

Vlif. What hath ſhe done Prince, that can ſoyle our
mothers ?

Ther. Nothing at all. vnleſſe that this were ſhe.

Ther. Will he swagger himſelfe out on's owne eyes?

Ther. This ſhe ? no, this is Diomed Crefled.

If beaſtie haue a ſoule, this is not ſhe :

If

Troylus and Cressida.

Fall all together,

Priam. Come Hector, come, goe backe:

Thy wife hath dreamt: thy mother hath had vifions;
Caffandra doth forefee; and I my selfe,

Am like a Prophet suddenly enapt,
to tell thee that this day is ominous:
Therefore come backe.

Hełł Aeneas is a field,

And I do stand engag'd to many Greekeſ,
Euen in the faith of valour, to appeare
This morning to them.

Priam. I, but thou shall not goe,

Hełł. I muſt not breake my faith:

You know me dutiull, therefore deare fir,
Let me not ſhame respect; but giue me leaue
To take that course by your content and voice,
Which you doe here forbid me, Royall Priam.

Caff. O Priam, yeelde not to him.

And. Doe not deere father.

Hełł. Andromache I am offendeſd with you :
Vpon the loue you beare me, get you in.

Exit Andromache.

Troy. This foolish, dreaming, ſupernſitious girle,
Makes all thesee bodements.

Caff. O farewell, deere Hæſtor :

Looke how thou dieſt; looke how thy eye turnes pale :

Looke how thy wounds doth bleede at many vents :

Hathe how Troy roares; how Hecuba cries out;

How poore Andromache chriſls her dolour ſoorth;

Behold diffraction, frenzie, and amazement,

Like w itselfe Antickes one another meete,

And all cry Hæſtor, Hæſtors dead: O Hæſtor !

Troy. Awaſy, away.

Caff. Farewell : yes, soft: Hæſtor I take my leaue ;

Thou doſt thy ſelfe, and all our Troy deceiue.

Hełł. You are amaz'd, my Liege, at her exlaime:
Goe in and cheere the Towne, weele ſoorth and fight:
Doe deedes of prieſe, and tell you them at night.

Priam. Farewell; the gods with faſetie stand about
thee.

Alarum.

Troy. They are at it, harke: proud Diomed, beleeuе
I come to looke my arme, or winne my ſleeue.

Enter Pandar.

Pand. Do you heare my Lord ? do you heare?

Troy. What now?

Pand. Here's a Letter come from yond poore girle.

Troy. Let me reade.

Pand. A whorſon tifſike, a whorſon rafcally tifſike,
ſo troubles me; and the foolish fortune of this girle,
and what one thing, what another, that I ſhall leaue you one
o'th's dayes: and I haue a rheume in mine eyes too; and
ſuch an ache in my bones; that vnlleſſe a man were curſt,
I cannot tell what to thinke on't. What ſayes ſhee
there?

Troy. Words, words, meere words, no matter from
the heart;

Th' effect doth operate another way.

Goewinde to winde, there turne and change together:

My loue with words and errors fill the feedes;

But edifies another with her deedes.

Pand. Why, but heare you?

Troy. Hence brother lackie; ignomie and ſhame
Purſue thy life, and lue aye with thy name.

A Larum.

Exeunt.

Enter Therſites in excursion.

Ther. Now they are clapper-clawing one another, Ile
goe looke on: that diſſembling abhominable varlet Dio-
mede, has got that fame ſcurie, doting, foolish yong
knaues Sleeue of Troy, there in his Helme: I would taine
fee them meet; that, that fame yong Trojan affe, that loues
the whore there, might fend that Greekiſh whore-mai-
fterly villaine, with the Sleeue, backe to the diſſembling
luxurious drabbe, of a ſleeueleſſe errant, O'th'tother ſide,
the pollicie of thofe craftie ſwearing rafcalſ; that ſtole
old Mouſe, eaten dry cheesef, Neſtor: and that fame dog-
foxe Vlſſes' is not prou'd worth a Black-berry. They fer
me vp in pollicy, that mungrill curre Aix, ageinſt that
dogge of as bad a kinde, Achiſſes. And now is the curre
Aix prouder then the curre Achiſſes, and will not arme
to day. Whereupon, the Grecians began to proſlaime
barbariſme; and pollicie growes into an ill opinion.

Enter Diomed and Troyus.

Soft, here comes Sleeue, and th'other.

Troy. Flye not: for I should ſt thou take the Riuer Stix,
I would ſwim after.

Diom. Thou doſt miſcall retire:

I do not flye; but aduantageous care

Withdrew me from the oddes of multitude :

Hae at thee?

Ther. Hold thy whore Grecian: now for thy whore
Troian: Now the Sleeue, now the Sleeue.

Enter Hæſtor.

Hełł. What art thou Greek? art thou for Hæſtors match?
Art thou of bloud, and honour?

Ther. No, no: I am a rafcall; a ſcurieue railing knaue:
a very filthy roague.

Hełł. I doe beleeve thee, lube.

Ther. God a mercy, that thou wilt beleee me; but a
plague breake thy necke---for frightening me: what's be-
come of the wenching rogues? I thinke they have
ſwallowed one another. I would laugh at that mira-
cle---yet in a ſort, lecherie eates it ſelfe: I feeke them.

Exit.

Enter Diomed and Servants.

Dio. Goe, goe, my ſeruant, take thou Troyus Horſes

Prefent the faire Steede to my Lady Crefrid:

Fellow, commend my ſeruice to her beauties;

Tell her, I haue chafſt'd the amorous Troyan.

And am her Knight by proofe.

Ser. I goe my Lord.

Enter Agamemnon.

Aga. Renew, renew, the ſterce Polidamus

Hath beate downe Menon: baſtard Margareton

Hath Doreus prifoner.

And stands Caloſſus-wife wauing his beame,

Vpon the paſhed courſes of the Kings :

Epilropus and Cedus, Polixines is ſlaine;

Amphimacus, and Thous deadly hurt;

Patroclus tane or ſlaine, and Palamedes

Sore hurt and bruifed; the dreadull Sagittary

Appauls our numbers, haſte we Diomed

To re-enforcement, or we perſish all.

Enter Neſtor.

Neſt. Coe beare Patroclus body to Achiſſes,
And bid the ſnaile-pac'd Aix arme for ſhame;

There is a thouſand Hæſtors in the field:

Now here he fights on Galathe his Horſe,

And there lacks worke: an he's there a toote,

And there they flye or dye, like ſcaled ſculs,

Before

Troylus and Creſida.

Before the belching Whale; then is he yonder,
And there the traying Greekes, ripe for his edge,
Fall downe before him, like the mowers ſwath;
Here, there, and euery where, he leues and takes;
Dexteritie ſo obaying appetite,
That what he will, he does, and does ſo much,
That proofe is call'd impoffibility.

Enter Vliffes.

Vlif. Oh, courage, courage Princes: great Achilles
Is arming, weeping, curſing, vowing vengeance;
Patroclus wounds haue rouz'd his drowzie bloud,
Together with his mangled Myrmidons,
That noſeſſe, handleſe, hackt and chipt, come to him;
Crying on Hæſtor. Aiax hath loſt a friend,
And foames at mouth, and he is arm'd, and at it:
Roaring for Troylus; who hath done to day,
Mad and ſantaſticke execution;
Engaging and redeeming of himſelfe,
With ſuch a careſſe force, and forceſſe care,
As if that luck in very ſpight of cunning, bad him win all.

Enter Aiax.

Aia. Troylus, thou coward Troylus.

Exit.

Dio. I, there, there.

Neſt. So, so, we draw together.

Exit.

Enter Achilles.

Achil. Where is this Hæſtor?

Come, come, thou boy-queller, ſhew thy face !
Know what it is to meete Achilles angry.

Hæſtor, wher's Hæſtor? I will none but Hæſtor.

Exit.

Enter Aiax.

Aia. Troylus, thou coward Troylus, ſhew thy head.

Enter Diomed.

Diom. Troylus, I lay, wher's Troylus?

Aia. What would it thou ?

Diom. I would correct him.

Aia. Were I the Generall,

Thou shouldst it haue my office,

Ere that correction : Troylus I lay, what Troylus?

Enter Troylus.

Troy. Oh traitour Diomed !

Turne thy false face thou traytor,

And pay thy life thou oweſt me for my horſe.

Dio. Ha, art thou there?

Aia. Ile fight with him alone, and Diomed.

Dio. He is my prize, I will not looke vpon.

Troy. Come both you coging Greekes, haue at you

both. Exit Troylus.

Enter Hæſtor.

Hæſt. Yea Troylus? O well fought my yongeſt Brother.

Enter Achilles.

Achil. Now doe I fee thee; haue at thee Hæſtor.

Hæſt. Paſue if thou wilt.

Achil. I doe diſdaine thy curſeſe, proud Trojan;

Be happy that my armes are out of vie :

My reſt and negligence beſriends thee now,

But thou anon ſhalt heare of me againe :

Till when, goe feeke thy fortune.

Exit.

Hæſt. Fare thee well :

I would haue beene much more a freſher man,
Had I expected thee: how now my Brother ?

Enter Troylus.

Troy. Aiax hath tane Æneas; ſhall it be?

No, by the flame of yonder glorious heauen,

He ſhall not carry him: Ile be tane too,

Or bring him off: Fate heare me what I lay;

I wreake not, though thou end my life to day.

Enter one in Armour.

Exit.

Hæſt. Stand, and, thou Greeke,

Thou art a goodly marke :

No? wilt thou not? I like thy armour well,

Ile fruſh it, and vnlocke the riuets all,

But Ile be maſler of it: wilt thou not beaſt abide?

Why then ſlye on, Ile hunt thee for thy hide.

Enter Achilles with Myrmidons.

Exit.

Achil. Come here about me your Myrmidons:

Marke what I lay; attend me where I wheele :

Strike not a ſtroake, but keepe your ſelues in breath;

And when I haue the cloudy Hæſtor found,

Empale him with your weapons round about:

In ſelleſt manner execute your arme.

Follow me ſirs, and my proceedings eye;

It is decreed, Hæſtor the great muſt dye.

Enter Therſites, Menelauſ, and Paris.

Exit.

Ther. The Cuckold and the Cuckold maker are at it:
now bull, now dogge, lowe; Paris lowe; now my doable
hen'd ſparrow; lowe Paris, lowe; the bull has the game:
ware hornes ho?

Exit Paris and Menelauſ.

Enter Baſtard.

Baſt. Turne ſlue and fight.

Ther. What art thou?

Baſt. A Baſtard Sonne of Priams.

Ther. I am a Baſtard too, I loue Baſtards. I am a Baſtard begot, Baſtard inſtructed, Baſtard in minde, Baſtard in valour, in euery thing illegitimate : one Beare will not bite another, and wherefore should one Baſtard? take heede, the quarrel's moſt ominous to vs: if the Sonne of a whole fight for a whole, he tempts iudgement: fairewel, Baſtard.

Baſt. The diuell take thee coward.

Enter Hæſtor.

Exeunt.

Hæſt. Moſt putrified core ſo faire without:
Thy goodly armour thus hath coſt thy life.

Now is my daies worke done; Ile take good breath :

Reſt Sword, thou haſt thy fill of bloud and death.

Enter Achilles and his Myrmidons.

Achil. Looke Hæſtor how the Sunne begins to ſet:
How vgly night comes breathing at his heeles,
Euen with the vaile and darking of the Sunne.

To close the day vp, Hæſtor's life is done.

Hæſt. I am vnarm'd, forgoe this vantage Greeke,

Achil. Strike fellowes, ſtrike, this is the man I feeke

So Illion fall thou: now Troy ſinke downe;

Here lyes thy heart, thy ſinewes; and thy bone.

On Myrmidons, cry you all a maine,

Achilles hath the mighty Hæſtor ſlaine.

Retreat.

Harke, a retreat vpon our Grecian part.

Gree. The Trojan Trumpets founds the like my Lord.

Achi. The dragon wing of night ore ſpred the earth

And ſtickler-like the Armies ſeperates

My halfe ſupt Sword, that frankly would haue ſed,

Pleas'd with this dainty bed; thus goes to bed.

Come, tye his body to my horſes tayle ;

Along the field, I will the Trojan traile.

Exeunt.

Sound Retreat. Shows.

Enter Agamemnon, Aiax, Menelauſ, Neſt,

Diomed, and the reſt marching.

Aga. Harke, harke, what ſhout is that?

Neſt. Peace Drums.

Sol. Achil.

Troylus and Crefida.

Sald. *Achilles, Achilles, Hector's* flaine, *Achilles*.

Die. The bruite is, *Hector's* flaine, and by *Achilles*.

Asia. If it be so, yet braglesse let it be:

Great *Hector* was a man as good as he.

Agam. March patiently along; let one be sent

To pray *Achilles* see vs at our Tent.

If in his death the gods haue vs befrended,

Great Troy is ours, and our Sharpe wars are ended.

Enter Æneas, Paris, Anthenor and Deiphobus.

Æne. Stand hoe, yet are we maifters of the field,
Neuer goe home; here starue we out the night.

Enter Troylus.

Troy. *Hector* is flaine.

All. *Hector*? the gods forbid.

Troy. Hec's dead : and at the murtherers Horſes taile,
In beaſtly ſort, drag'd through the thamefull Field a

Frowne on you heauens, effect your rage with ſpeede :

Sit gods upon your throanes, and ſmile at Troy.

I lay at once, let your briefe plagues be mercy,

And linger not our ſure deſtructions on.

Æne. My Lord, you doe discomſort all the Hoſte.

Troy. You vnderſtand me not, that tell me so :

I do not ſpeake of flight, of ſeare, of death,
But dare all imminence that gods and men,
Adreſſe their dangers in. *Hector* is gone :
Who ſhall tell *Priam* so ? or *Hecuba*?

Let him that will a ſcreechoule aye be call'd,

Goe in to Troy, and ſay there, *Hector's* dead :

There is a word will *Priam* turne to ſtone;

Make wels, and *Niobes* of the maides and wives;

Coole ſtatures of the youth : and in a word,

Scare Troy oat of it ſelfe. But march away,

*Hector* is dead : there is no more to ſay.

Stay yet: you vile abhominable Tents,

Thus proudly pight vpon our Phrygian plaines :

Let Titan rife as early as he dare,

He through, and through you; & thou great ſiz'd coward:

No ſpace of Earth ſhall ſunder our two hates,

He haunt thee, like a wicked conſcience ſill,

That mouldeth goblins swiſt as frenſies thoughts.

Strike a free march to Troy, with comfort goe:

Hope of reuenge, ſhall hide our inward woe.

Enter Pandarus.

Pand. But heare you ? heare you ?

Troy. Hence broker, lackie, ignomy, and ſhame

Purſue thy life, and liue aye with thy name.

Pan. A goodly medicine for mine akingbones: oh world,
world, world ! thus is the poore agent diſpide: Oh traictours and bawdes; how earneſtly are you ſet aworke, and
how ill requited ? why ſhould our indeuour be ſo deſir'd,
and the performance ſo loath'd? What Verſe for it? what
inſtance for it ? let me fee.

Full merrily the humble Bee doth ſing,

Till he hath loft his hony, and his ſing.

And being once ſub du'd in armed taile,

Sweete hony, and SWEETE notes together ſaile.

Good traders in the fleſh, ſet this in your painted cloathes;

As many as be here of Panders hall,

Your eyes halfe out, weepe out at Pandar's fall :

Or if you cannot weepe, yet giue ſome grones;

Though not for me, yet for your akingbones :

Brethren and ſifters of the hold-dore trade,

Some two months hence, my will ſhall here be made:

It ſhould be now, but that my ſeare is this :

Some galled Goofe of Winchelſter would hihſe :

Till then, Ile Sweate, and ſeeke about for eafes ;

And at that time bequeath you my diſeafes.

¶¶

Exeunt.

FINIS.

The Tragedy of Coriolanus.

Actus Primus. Scena Prima.

Enter a Company of Mutinous Citizens, with Staues,
Clubs, and other weapons.

1. Citizen.

Before we proceed any further, heare me speake.

All. Speake, speake.

1. Cit. You are all refolu'd rather to dy then
co famifh?

All. Refolu'd, refolu'd.

1. Cit. First you know, Caius Martius is chieſe enemy
to the people.

All. We know't, we know't.

1. Cit. Let vs kill him, and wee'l haue Corne at our own
price. Is't a Verdiet ?

All. No more talking on't; Let it be done, away, away

2. Cit. One word, good Citizens.

1. Cit. We are accounted poore Citizens, the Patri-
cians good: what Authority furſers one, would releeuе
vs. If they would yeelde vs but the ſuperfluitie while it
were wholſome, wee might gueſſe they releeued vs hu-
manely: But they thinke we are too deere, the leantennſe
that afflicts vs, the obieſt of our miſery, is as an inuento-
ry to particularize their abundance, our ſufferance is a
gaine to them. Let vs reuenge this with our Pikes, ere
we become Rakes. For the Gods know, I ſpeake this in
hunger for Bread, not in thirſt for Reuenge.

2. Cit. Would you proceede eſpecially againſt Caius
Martius.

All. Againſt him first: He's a very dog to the Com-
monality.

2. Cit. Conſider you what Seruices he ha's done for his
Country.

1. Cit. Very well, and could bee content to giue him good report for't, but that hee payes himſelfe with bee-ing proud.

All. Nay, but ſpeak not maliciously.

1. Cit. I say vnto you, what he hath done Famouſlie,
he did it to that end: though ſoft confienci'd men can be
content to ſay it was for his Countrey, he did it to pleafe
his Mother, and to be partly proud, which he is, euen to
the altitude of his vertue.

2. Cit. What he cannot helpe in his Nature, you ac-
count a Vice in him : You muſt in no way ſay he is co-
uerτ proud.

1. Cit. If I muſt not, I neede not be barren of Accuſa-
tions he hath faults (with ſurplus) to tyre in repetition.

Shouts within.

What ſhowts are these? The other ſide a'th City is richen:
why ſay we prating heere? To sh'Capitoll.

All. Come, come.

1. Cit. Soft, who comes here?

Enter Menenius Agrippa.

2. Cit. Worthy Menenius Agrippa, one that hath al-
wayes lou'd the people.

1. Cit. He's one honest enough, wold al the reſt wer so.

Men. What work's my Countrimen in hand ?
Where go you with Bats and Clubs? The matter
Speake I pray you.

2. Cit. Our busines is not vknowne to th'Senat, they
haue had inkling this foruight what we intend to do,
now wee'l ſhow em in deeds: they ſay poore Suters haue
ſtrong breaths, they ſhal know we haue ſtrong arms too.

Menen. Why Mafters, my good friends, mine honest
Neighbours, will you vndo your ſelues ?

2. Cit. We cannot Sir, we are vndone already.

Men. I tell you Friends, moſt charitable care
Hae the Patricians of you for your wants.
Your ſuffering in this dearth, you may as well
Strike at the Heauen with your ſtaues, as lift them
Againſt the Roman State, whose courſe will on
The way it takes : cracking ten thouſand Curbes
Of more ſtrong linke affunder, then can euer
Appeare in your impediment. For the Dearth,
The Gods, not the Patricians make it, and
Your knees to them (not armes) muſt helpe. Alacke,
You are transported by Calamity
Thether, where more attends you, and you ſlander
The Helmes o'th State; who care for you like Fathers,
When you curſe them, as Enemies.

2. Cit. Care for vs? True indeed, they nere car'd for vs
yet. Suffer vs to famiſh, and their Store-houſes cramm'd
with Graine: Make Edicts for Vſurie, to ſupport Vſu-
rers; repeale daily any wholſome Act eſtablished againſt
the rich, and prouide more piercing Statutes daily, to
chaine vp and refraine the poore. If the Warres eate vs
not vppe, they will; and there's all the loue they beare
vs.

Menen. Either you muſt
Conſeſſe your ſelues wondrous Malicious,
Or be accus'd of Folly. I ſhall tell you
A pretty Tale, it may be you haue heard it,
But ſince it ſerues my purpose, I will venture
To ſcale't a little more.

2. Citizens. Well,

Ile heare it Sir: yet you muſt not thinke
To ſobbe off our diſgrace with a tale :
But and't pleafe you deliuer.

Men. There was a time, when all the bodies members
Rebell'd againſt the Belly; thus accus'd it:
That onely like a Gulſe it did remaine

aa

1'th

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

2

I'ch midd'ft a th'body, idle and vnactive,
Still cubbording the Viand, neuer bearing
Like labour with the reft, where th'other Infruments
Did seee, and heare, deuife, infruct, walke, seele,
And mutually participate, did minifter
Vnto the apperite; and affection common
Of the whole body, the Belly anſwer'd.

2. Cit. Well fir, what anſwer made the Belly.

Men. Sir, I ſhall tell you with a kinde of Smile,
Which ne're came from the Lungs, but euen thus :
For looke you I may make the belly Smile,
As well as ſpeake, it taintingly replied
To'ch'discontented Members, the mutinous parts
That enuied his receite: euen so moſt fitly,
As you maligne our Senators, for that
They are not ſuch as you.

2. Cit. Your Bellies anſwer: What
The Kingly crown'd head, the vigilant eye,
The Counſailor Heart, the Arme our Souldier,
Our Steed the Legge, the Tongue our Trumpeter,
With other Muniments and petty helps
In this our Fabricke, if that they—

Men. What then? Foreme, this Fellow ſpeakes.
What then? What then?

2. Cit. Should by the Cormorant belly be reſtrain'd,
Who is the ſinke a th'body.

Men. Well, what then?

2. Cit. The former Agents, if they did complaine,
What could the Belly anſwer?

Men. I will tell you,
If you'll beſtow a ſmall (of what you haue little)
Patience awhile; you'ſt heare the Bellies anſwer.

2. Cit. Y'are long about it.

Men. Note me this good Friend;
Your moſt graue Belly was deliberate,
Not raſh like his Accuſers, and thus anſwered.
True is it my Incorporate Friends (quoth he)
That I receiue the generall Food at firſt
Which you do liue vpon: and fit it is,
Because I am the Store-house, and the Shop
Of the whole Body. But, if you do remember,
I ſend it through the Riuers of your blood
Euen to the Court, the Heart, to th' ſteate o' th'Braine,
And through the Crankes and Offices of man,
The ſtrongest Nerves, and ſmall inferiour Veines
From me receiue that naturall competencie
Whereby they liue. And though that all at once
(You my good Friends, this ſayes the Belly) marke me.

2. Cit. I fir, well, well.

Men. Though all at once, cannot
See what I do deliuer out to each,
Yet I can make my Awdit vp, that all
From me do backe receiue the Flowre of all,
And leaue me but the Bran. What ſay you too't?

2. Cit. It was an anſwer, how apply you this?

Men. The Senators of Rome, are this good Belly,
And you the mutinous Members: For examine
Their Counfailes, and their Cares; diſeſt things rightly,
Touching the Weale a'ch Common, you ſhall finde
No publique benefit which you receiue
But it proceeds, or comes from them to you,
And no way from your ſelues. What do you thinke?
You, the great Toe of this Asſembly?

2. Cit. I the great Toe? Why the great Toe?

Men. For that being one o' th' loweſt, bafeſt, pooreſt
Of this moſt wife Rebell ion, thou goeſt formoft:

Thou Raſcall, that art worſt in blood to run,
Lead'ſt firſt to win ſome vantage.
But make you ready your ſtiffe bats and clubſ,
Rome, and her Rats, are at the point of battell,
The one ſide muſt haue baile.

Enter Casu Martini.

Hayle, Noble *Martius*.

Mar. Thanks. What's the matter you diffenſous rogers
That rubbing the poore Ich of your Opinion,
Make your ſelues Scabs.

2. Cit. We haue euer your good word.

Mar. He that will giue good words to thee, will flatter
Beneath abhorring. What would you haue, you Cares,
That like nor Peace, nor Warre? The one aſtrights you,
The other makes you proud. He that truſts to you,
Where he ſhould finde you Lyons, findes you Hares:
Where Foxes, Geefe you are: No ſurer, no,
Then is the coale of fire vpon the Ice,
Or Hailſtone in the Sun. Your Vertue is,
To make him worthy, whoſe offence subdues him,
And curſe his Inſtice did it. Who deſerves Greatnes,
Deſerues your Hate: and your Aſfections are
A ſickmans Appetite; who defires moſt that
Which would encreafe his euill. He that depends
Vpon your fauours, ſwimmes with finnes of Leade,
And he wes downe Oakes, with rufſes. Hang you ſeruile yet?
With euery Minute you do change a Minde,
And call him Noble, that was now your Hate:
Him vilde, that was your Garland. What's the matter,
That in these ſeuerall places of the Citie,
You cry againſt the Noble Senate, who
(Under the Gods) keepe you in awe, which eſſe
Would feede on one another? What's their ſeeking?

Men. For Corne at their owne rates, whereof they ſay
The Citie is well ſtor'd.

Mar. Hang'em: They ſay?
They'ſt fit by th'fire, and preſume to know
What's done i' th' Capitoll: Who's like to rife,
Who thriues, &c who declines: Side ſactions, & giue our
Conieſturall Marriages, making parties ſtrong,
And feeſt ſuch as ſt and not in their likings.
Below their cobled ſhooes. They ſay the ſter's grain enough,
Would the Nobility lay aſide their ruth,
And let me vſe my Sword, I'de make a Quarrie
With thouſands of theſe quarter'd ſlaues, as high
As I could picke my Lance.

Menen. Nay theſe are almost thoroughly perſwaded
For though abundantly they laſke diſcretion
Yet are they paſſing Cowardly. But I beſeech you,
What ſayes the other Troope?

Mar. They are diſſolu'd: Hang em;
They ſaid they were an hungry, ſigh'd ſoſt Prouerbes
That Hunger-broke ſtone wals: that dogges muſt eate
That meate was made for mouths. That the gods ſent not
Corne for the Richmen only: With theſe threſds
They vented their Complainings, which being anſwer'd
And a petition granted them, a ſtrange one,
To breake the heart of generofity,
And make bold power looke pale, they threw their caps
As they would hang them on the horneſs a' th Moont,
Shooting their Emulation.

Menen. What is grauanted them?

Mar. Fine Tribunes to defend their vulgar wisdom
Of their owne choice. One's *Inius Brutus*,
*Sicinus Pelatus*, and I know not. Sdeath,

The

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

4

Enter Volumnia and Virgilia, mother and wife to Martius:
They set them downe on two lowe Stooles and Sowe.

Volum. I pray you daughter Sing, or expresse your selfe in a more comfortable sort : If my Sonne were my Husband, I should freelier reioyce in that absence wherein he wonne Honor, then in the embracements of his Bed, where he would thene moft loue. When yet hee was but tender-bodied, and the onely Sonne of my womb; when youth with comlineffe pluckd all gaze his way ; when for a day of Kings entreaties, a Mother should not fel him an houre from her beholding; I confidering how Honour would become such a person, that it was no better then Picture-like to hang by th'wall, if renowne made it not fitne, was pleas'd to let him seeke danger, where he was like to finde fame : To a cruell Warre I fent him, from whence he return'd, his browes bound with Oake. I tell thee Daughter, I sprang not more in ioy at firſt hearing he was a Man-child, then now in firſt seeing he had proved himſelfe a man.

Virg. But had he died in the Buſineſſe Madame, how then?

Volum. Then his good report should haue beene my Sonne, I therein would haue found iſſue. Heare me proſeſſe fincerely, had I a dozen ſons each in my loue alike, and none leſſe deere then thine, and my good Martius, I had rather had eleuen dye Nobly for their Countrey, then one voluptuouſly ſurſet out of Action.

Enter a Gentilewoman.

Gent. Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to vifit you.

Virg. Beleech you giue me leaue to retire my ſelfe.

Volum. Indeed you ſhall not:

Me thinkes, I heare hither your Husbands Drumme:

See him plucke Auffidius downe by ch'haire :

(As children from a Beare) the Volces flunning him :

Me thinkes I fee him ſtampe thus, and call thus,

Come on you Cowards, you were got in ſeare
Though you were borne in Rome; his bloody brow

With his mail'd hand, then wiping, forth he goes

Like to a Harueſt man, that task'd to mowe

Or all, or loofe his byre.

Virg. His bloody Brow ? Oh Iupiter, no blood.

Volum. Away you Foole; it more becomes a man

Then gilt his Trophe. The brefts of Hecuba

When ſhe did fuckle Hecator, look'd not louelier

Then Hecators forhead, when it ſpit forth blood

At Grecian ſword. Contenuing, tell Valeria

We are fit to bid her welcome.

Exit Gent.

Vir. Heauens bleſſe my Lord from ſell Auffidius.

Vol. Hee' beat Auffidius head below his knee,

And treade vpon his necke.

Enter Valeria with an Vther, and a Genilewoman.

Val. My Ladies both good day to you,

Vol. Sweet Madam.

Vir. I am glad to fee your Ladyſhip.

Val. How do you both ? You are manifeſt house-keeters. What are you fowing heere? A fine ſpotte in good faith. How does your little Sonne ?

Vir. I thanke your Lady-ſhip : Well good Madam.

Vol. He had rather fee the ſwords, and heare a Drum,
then looke vpon his Schoolmaſter.

Val. A my word the Fathers Sonne : Ile ſweare 'tis a
very pretty boy. A my troth, I look'd vpon him a Wenſ-
day halſe an houre together : ha's such a confirm'd coun-

tenance. I saw him run after a gilded Butterſy, & when
he caught it, he let it go againe, and after it againe, and o-
ter and ouer he comes, and vp againe: catch it again: or
whether his fall enrag'd him, or how 'twas, hee did to ſet
his teeth, and teare it. Oh, I warrant how he mammoct
it.

Val. One on's Fathers moods.

Val. Indeed la'tis a Noble childe.

Virg. A Cracke Madam.

Val. Come, lay aside your fitchery, Imuſt haue you
play the idle Hufwife with me this afternoone.

Virg. No (good Madam)

I will not out of doores:

Val. Not out of doores?

Volum. She ſhall, the ſhall.

Virg. Indeed no, by your patience; Ile not ouer the
threshold, till my Lord returne from the Warres.

Val. Fye, you confine your ſelfe moſt vareably:
Come, you muſt go vifit the good Lady that lies in.

Virg. I will wifh her ſpeedy ſtrength, and wifch her
with my prayers: but I cannot go thither.

Volum. Why I pray you.

Vlug. Tis not to ſaue labour, nor that I want loue.

Val. You would be another Penelope: yet they lay, all
the yearne ſhe ſpun in Vliffes: abfence, did but fill Alba
full of Mothes. Come, I would your Cambrick were ſen-
fible as your finger, that you might leaue pricking it for
pitie. Come you ſhall go with vs.

Vir. No good Madam, pardon me, indeed I will not
foorth.

Val. In truth la go with me, and Ile tell you excellent newes of your Husband.

Virg. Oh good Madam, there can be none yet.

Val. Verily I do not ieſt with you: there came newes
from him laſt night.

Vir. Indeed Madam.

Val. In a earneſt it's true; I heard a Senatour ſpeake it.
Thus it is : the Volcies have an Army forth, against who
Cominius the Generall is gone, with one part of our ſlo-
mane power. Your Lord, and Titus Lartius, are ſet down
before their Citie Carioles, they nothing doubt preuil-
ling, and to make it breeſe Warres. This is true on mine
Honor, and so I pray go with vs.

Virg. Gue me excufe good Madame, I will obey you
in euery thing heereafter.

Vol. Let her alone Ladie, as ſhe is now :

She will but diſeafe our better mirth.

Valeria. In troth I thinke ſhe would :

Fare you well then. Come good ſweet Ladie.

Prythee Virgilia turne thy ſolemneſſe out a doore,
And go along with vs.

Virgil. No

Aca word Madam; Indeed I muſt not,
I wifh you much mirth.

Exemnt Ladie.

Val. Well, then farewell.

Enter Martius, Titus Lartius, with Drumme and Crlours, with Captaines and Souldiers, as before the City Coriolanus : to them a Messenger.

Martius. Yonder comes Newes :

A Wager they haue met.

Lar. My horſe to yours, no.

Mar. Tis done.

Lart. Agreed.

Mtr.

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

5

Mar. Say, ha's our Generall met the Enemy?

Meff. They lye in view, but haue not spoke as yet.

Lart. So, the good Horfe is mine.

Mart. Ile buy him of you.

Lart. No, Ile nor fel,nor giue him: Lead you him I will
For halfe a hundred yeares: Summon the Towne.

Mar. How farre off lie thee Armies ?

Meff. Within this mile and halfe.

Mar. Then shall we heare their Larum, & they Ours.
Now Mars, I prythee make vs quicke in worke,
That we with smoaking swords may march from hence
To helpe our fielded Friends. Come, blow thy blast.

They Sound a Parley: Enter two Senators with others on
the Walles of Coriolanus.
Tallus Auffidious, is he within your Walles ?

1. Senat. No, nor a man that feares you leffe then he,
That's leffer then a little : Drum a farre off.

Hearke, our Drummes

Are bringing forth our youth: Wee'l breake our Walles
Rather then they shall pound vs vp our Gates,
Which yet feeme shut, we have but pin'd with Ruffes,
They'le open of themfelues. Harke you, farre off

Alarum farre off.

There is Auffidious. Lift what worke he makes
Amongst your clouen Army.

Mart. Oh they are at it.

Lart. Their noife be our inſtruction. Ladders hoa.

Enter the Army of the Volces.

Mar. They feare vs not, but iffue forth their Citie.
Now put your Shields before your hearts, and fight
With hearts more proofe then Shields.

Aduance braue Titus,

They do diſdaine vs much beyond our Thoughts,
which makes me sweat with wrath. Come on my fellows
He that retires, Ile take him for a Volce,
And he shall feele mine edge.

Alarum, the Romans are beat back to their Trenches
Enter Martius Curing.

Mar. All the contagion of the South, light on you,
You Shames of Rome: you Heard of Byles and Plagues
Plaſter you o're, that you may be abhorr'd
Farther then ſeene, and one inſect another
Aginſt the Winde a mile : you ſoules of Geefe,
That beare the ſhapes of men, how haue you run
From Slaues, that Apes would beate ; Pluto and Hell,
All hurt behinde, backes red, and faces pale
With flight and agued ſeare, mend and charge home,
Or by the fires of heauen, Ile leaue the Foe,
And make my Warres on you: Looke too't: Come on,
If you'l stand faſt, wee'l beate them to their Wiues,
As they vs to our Trenches followes.

Another Alarum, and Martius followes them to
gates, and is but in.

So, now the gates are ope: now proue good Seconds,
Tis for the followers Fortune, widens them,
Not for the flyers: Marke me, and do the like.

Enter the Gati.

1. Sol. Foole, hardineſſe, not I.

2. Sol. Nor I.

1. Sol. See they haue shut him in.

Alarum continues

All. To th'pot I warrant him.

Enter Titus Lartius

Tit. What is become of Martius ?

All. Slaine (Sir) doubtleſſe.

1. Sol. Following the Flyers at the very heeles,

With them he enters: who vpon the sodaine
Clapt to their Gates, he is himselfe alone,
To anſwer all the City.

Lar. Oh Noble Fellow !

Who ſenſibly out-dares his ſenceſſele Sword,

And when it bowes, ſtand'ft vp: Thou art left Martius,
A Carbuncle intire : as big as thou art

Weare not for rich a Iewell. Thou was't a Souldier
Euen to Calues wifh, not ſterce and terrible

Onely in ſtrokes, but with thy grim looks, and

The Thunder-like perſuffusion of thy ſounds

Thou mad'ft thine enemies ſhake, as if the World
Were Feauorous, and did tremble.

Enter Martius bleeding, affaſtued by the Enemy.

1. Sol. Looke Sir.

Lar. O'tis Martius.

Let's fetch him off, or make remaine alike.

They fight, and all enter the City.

Enter certaine Romanes with ſpoiles.

1. Rom. This will I carry to Rome.

2. Rom. And I this.

3. Rom. A Murrain on't, I tooke this for Siluer. excemt.

Alarum continues ſtill a-farre off.

Enter Martius, and Titus with a Trumpet.

Mar. See heere theſe mouers, that do prize their hours
At a crack'd Drachme: Cufhions, Leaden Spoones,
Irons of a Doit, Dublets that Hangmen would
Bury with thoſe that wore them. Theſe bafe ſlaues,
Ere yet the fight be done, packe vp, downe with them.
And harke, what noyſe the Generall makes: To him
There is the man of my ſoules hate, Auffidious,
Piercing our Romanes : Then Valiant Titus take
Conuenient Numbers to make good the City,
Whil'ft I with thoſe that haue the ſpirit, wil haſte
To helpe Cominius.

Lar. Worthy Sir, thou bleed'ſt,
Thy exercife hath bin too violent,

For a ſecond course of Fight.

Mar. Sir, praisc me not :

My worke hath yet not warm'd me. Fare you well :

The blood I drop, is rather Phyſical

Then dangerous to me: To Auffidious thus, I will appear

Lar. Now the faire Goddeſſe Fortune, (and fight.

Fall deepe in loue with thee, and her great charmes

Mifguide thy Oppofers ſwords, Bold Gentleman :
Proſperity be thy Page.

Mar. Thy Friend no leſſe,

Then thoſe the placeth higheſt: So farewell.

Lar. Thou worthie Martius,

Go found thy Trumpet in the Market place,

Call thither all the Officers a'th' Towne,

Where they shall know our minde. Away.

Excemt

Enter Cominius as it were in retire, with ſoldiers.

Com. Breath you my friends, wel fought, we are come
Like Romans, neither foolish in our ſlands,
Nor Cowardly in retyre : Belecue me Sirs,

We shall be charg'd againe. Whileſes we haue ſtrooke

By Interims and conucyng guſts, we haue heard

The Charges of our Friends. The Roman Gods,

Leade their ſuccesſes, as we wifh our owne,

That both our powers, with ſmiling Fronts encountring,

May give you thankfull Sacrifice. Thy Newes?

Enter a Messenger.

Meff. The Citizens of Corioles haue yſſued,
And giuen to Lartius and to Martius Battaile:

aa. 3.

I saw

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

6

I faw our party to their Trenches driuen,
And then I came away.

Com. Though thou speakest truth,
Me thinkes thou speak't it not well. How long is't since?

Mef. Aboue an houre, my Lord.

Com. 'Tis not a mile: briefly we heard their drummes.
How could it thou in a mile confound an houre,
And bring thy Newes so late?

Mef. Spies of the Volces
Held me in chace, that I was forced to wheele
Three or foure miles about, else had I fir
Halfe an houre since brought my report.

Enter Martins.

Com. Whofe yonder,
That doe's appeare as he were Flead ?O Gods,
He has the stampe of Martins, and I haue
Before time seene him thus.

Mar. Come I too late?

Com. The Shepherd knowes not Thunder fió a Taber,
More then I know the found of Martins Tongue
From every meaner man,

Martius. Come I too late?

Com. I, if you come not in the blood of others,
But mantled in your owne.

Mar. Oh! let me clip ye
In Armes as found, as when I woo'd in heart;
As merry, as when our Nuptiall day was done,
And Tapers burnt to Bedward.

Com. Flower of Warriors, how is't with Titus Lartius?

Mar. As with a man buſed about Decrees :
Condemning ſome to death, and ſome to exile,
Ranfoming him, or pittying, threatening th'other;
Holding Corioles in the name of Rome,
Euen like a fawning Grey-hound in the Leaſh,
To let him ſlip at will.

Com. Where is that Slaue
Which told me they had beate you to your Trenches?
Where is he? Call him hither.

Mar. Let him alone,
He did informe the truth: but for our Gentlemen,
The common ſfile, (a plague-Tribunes for them)
The Mouse ne're ſhunn'd the Cat, as they did budge
From Raſcals worſe then they.

Com. But how preuil'd you?

Mar. Will the time ſerve to tell, I do not thinke:
Where is the enemy? Are you Lords a' th Field?
If not, why ceaſe you till you are ſo?

Com. Martius, we haue at diſaduantage ſought,
And did retyre to win our purpofe.

Mar. How lies their Battell? Know you on w ſide
They haue plac'd their men of truſt?

Com. As I gueſſe Martius,
Their Bands i' th Vaward are the Antients
Of their beſt truſt: O're them Auffidious,
Their very heart of Hope.

Mar. I do beſeech you,
By all the Battaires wherein we haue ſought,
By th'Blood we haue ſhed together,

By th'Vowes we haue made
To endure Friends, that you directly ſet me
Against Auffidious, and his Antients,

And that you not delay the preſent (but
Filling the aire with Swords aduanc'd) and Darts,

We proue this very houre.

Com. Though I could wifh,

You were conducted to a gentle Bath,
And Balmes applied to you, yet dare I neuer
Deny your asking, take your choice of those
That beſt can ayde your action.

Mar. Thoſe are they
That moſt are willing; if any ſuch be here,
(As it were ſinne to doubt) that loue this painting
Wherein you fee me ſmeard, if any ſeare
Leſſen his perſon, then an ill report:
If any thinke, braue death out-weighs bad life,
And that his Countries deerer then himſelfe,
Let him alone: Or so many ſo minded,
Waue thus to expreſſe his diſpoſition,
And follow Martins.

They all ſhowt and wane their Swords, take him vp in their
Armes, and caſt up their Caps.

Oh me alone, make you a word of me :
If theſe ſhewes be not outward, which of you
But is ſoure Volces? None of you, but is
Able to beare againſt the great Auffidious
A Shield, as hard as his. A certaine number
(Though thankes to all) muſt I ſelect from all :
The reſt ſhall beare the buſineſſe in ſome other fight
(As cauſe will be obey'd:) pleyſe you to March,
And ſoure ſhall quickly draw out my Command,
Which men are beſt inclin'd.

Com. March on my Fellows:
Make good this ofſentation, and you ſhall
Diuide in all, with vs.

Exequens

Titus Lartius, hauing ſet a guard upon Carioles, going with
Drum and Trumpet toward Cominius, and Cains Mar-
tius, Enters with a Lieutenant, other Souldiours, and a
Scout.

Lar. So, let the Ports be guarded; keepe your Dutiens
As I haue ſet them downe. If I do ſend, diſpatch
Thoſe Centuries to our ayd, the reſt will ſerve
For a ſhort holding, if we looſe the Field,
We cannot keepe the Towne.

Lieu. Feare not our care Sir.

Lart. Hence; and flur your gates vpon's:
Our Guider come, to th' Roman Campe conduct vs. Exit.
Alarum, as in Battale.

Enter Martins and Auffidius at ſeneral doores.

Mar. Ile fight with none but thee, for I do hate thee
Worſe then a Promife-breaker.

Auffid. We hate alike:
Not Aſſricke owns a Serpent Iabhorre
More then thy Fame and Enuy: Fix thy foot.

Mar. Let the firſt Budger dye the others Slaue,
And the Gods doome him after.

Auf. If I flye Martius, hollow me like a Hare.
Mar. Within theſe three houres Tullus
Alone I fought in your Corioles walles,
And made what worke I pleas'd; 'Tis not my blood,
Wherein thou ſeet me maskt, for thy Reuenge
Wrench vp thy power to th' higheſt.

Auf. Wer't thou the Hæſtor,
That was the whip of your bragg'd Progeny,
Thou ſhould'ſt not ſcape me here.

Here reſt they fight, and certaine Volces come in the warre
of Auffis. Martius fightes til they be drinu in breakeles.

Officious and not valiant, you haue ſham'd me
In your condemned Seconds.

Flourish.

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

7

Flourish. Alarum. A Retreat is founded. Enter at one Doore Cominius, with the Romanes: At another Doore Martius, with his Arme in a Scarfe.

Com. If I should tell thee o're this thy dayes Worke,
Thou't not beleeue thy deeds: but Ile report it,
Where Senators shall mingle teares with smiles,
Where great Patricians shall attend, and shrug,
Ith'end admire: where Ladies shall be frighted,
And gladly quak'd, heare more: where the dull Tribunes,
That with the fuffie Plebeans, hate thine Honors,
Shall say againft their hearts, We thanke the Gods
Our Rome hath such a Souldier.
Yet cam't thou to a Morfall of this Feaft,
Hauing fully din'd before.

Enter Titus with his Power, from the Pursuit.

Titus Lartius. Oh Generall:
Here is the Steed, wee the Caparison:
Hadst thou beheld—

Martius. Pray now, no more:
My Mother, who has a Charter to extoll her Bloud,
When she do's praye me, grieues me:
I haue done as you haue done, that's what I can,
Induc'd as you haue beene, that's for my Countrey:
He that has but effected his good will,
Hath ouerta'n' mine Act.

Com. You shall not be the Graue of your deferuing,
Rome muft know the value of her owne:
'Twere a Concealement worfe then a Theft,
No lesse then a Traduement,

To hide your doings, and to silence that,
Which to the spire, and top of prayles vouch'd,
Would seeme but modeſt: therefore I befeech you,
In figne of what you are, not to reward
What you haue done, before our Armie heare me.

Martius. I haue some Wounds vpon me, and they ſmart
To heare themſelues remembred.

Com. Should they not:
Well might they feſter 'gainſt Ingratitude,
And tent themſelues with death: of all the Horſes,
Whereof we haue ta'n' good, and good ſtore of all,
The Treasure in this field atchieued, and Citie,
We render you the Tenth, to be ta'n' forth,
Before the common diſtribution,
At your onely choyſe.

Martius. I thanke you Generall:
But cannot make my heart confent to take
A Bribe, to pay my Sword: I doe refuse it,
And ſtand vpon my common part with thofe,
That haue beheld the doing.

A long flourish. They all cry, Martius, Martius,
caſt vp their Caps and Lannices: Cominius
and Lartius ſtand bare.

Mar. May theſe fame Inſtruments, which you proppane,
Neuer found more: when Drums and Trumpets ſhall
I'ch't field proue flatterers, let Courts and Cities be
Made all of falſe fac'd feehing:
When Steele growes ſoft, as the Parafires Silke,
Let him be made an Ouerture for th' Warres:
No more I lay, for that I haue not waffl'd

My Nofe that bled, or foyl'd ſome debile Wretch,
Which without note, here's many else haue done,
You ſhoot me forth in acclamations hyperbolicall,
As if I lou'd my little ſhould be dieted
In prayſes, ſawc't with Lyes.
Com. Too modeſt are you:
More cruell to your good report, then gratefull
To vs, that giue you truly: by your patience,
If 'gainſt your ſelfe you be incens'd, wee'le put you
(Like one that meanes his proper harme) in Manacles,
Then reaſon safely with you: Therefore be it knowne,
As to vs, to all the World, That Caius Martius
Weares this Warres Garland: in token of the which,
My Noble Steed, knowne to the Campe, I giue him,
With all his trim belonging; and from this time,
For what he did before Corioles, call him,
With all th'applaſſe and Clamor of the Hoaſt,
Marcus Caius Coriolanus. Beare th'addition Nobly euers.

Flourish. Trumpets found, and Drums.
Omnes, Marcus Caius Coriolanus.

Martius. I will goe waff:
And when my Face is faire, you ſhall perceiue
Whether I bluſh, or no: howbeit, I thank you,
I meane to ſride your Steed, and at all times
To vnder-creſt your good Addition,
To th'faireneſſe of my power.

Com. So, to our Tent:
Where ere we doe repofe vs, we will write
To Rome of our ſucceſſe: you Titus Lartius
Muſt to Corioles baſe, ſend vs to Rome
The beſt, with whom we may articulate,
For their owne good, and ours.

Lartius. I ſhall, my Lord.
Martius. The Gods begin to mocke me:
I that now refus'd moſt Princely giſts,
Am bound to begge of my Lord Generall.

Com. Tak't, tis yours: what is't?
Martius. I sometime lay here in Corioles,

At a poore mans houſe: he vs'd me kindly,
He cry'd to me: I ſaw him Prifoner:
But then Auffidius was within my view,
And Wrath o're-whelm'd my pittie: I requeſt you
To giue my poore Hoſt freedome.

Com. Oh well begg'd:
Were he the Butcher of my Sonne, he ſhould
Be free, as is the Winde: deliuer him, Titus.
Lartius. Martius, his Name.
Martius. By Iupiter forgot:
I am wearie, yea, my memorie is tyr'd:
Haue we no Wine here?

Com. Goe we to our Tent:
The loud vpon your Visage dryes, 'tis time
It ſhould be lookt too: come.

Excuse.

A flourish. Cornets. Enter Tullus Auffidini
bloudie, with two or three Souldiors.

Auffi. The Towne is ta'n.
Sould. 'Twill be deliuer'd baſe on good Condition.

Auffid. Condition?
I would I were a Roman, for I cannot,
Being a Volce, be that I am. Condition?
What good Condition can a Treatie finde
I'ch't part that is at mercy? ſiue times, Martius,
I haue fought with thee; ſo often haſt thou beat me:
And would it doe ſo, I thinke, ſhould we encounter

As

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

8

As often as we eat. By th'Elements,
Ifere againe I meet him beard to beard,
He's mine, or I am his : Mine Emulation
Hath not that Honor in't had: For where
I thought to crush him in an equall Force,
True Sword to Sword : Ile poche at him some way,
Or Wrath, or Craft may get him.

Sol. He's the diuell.

Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle: my valors poiffon'd,
With onelyuffring staine by him: for him
Shall flye out of it selfe, nor sleepe, nor sanctuary,
Being naked, ficke; nor Phane, nor Capitoll,
The Prayers of Priests, nor times of Sacrifice:
Embarquements all of Fury, shall lift vp
Their rotten Priuledge, and Cuftome gainft
My hate to Martius. Where I finde him, were it
At home, vpon my Brothers Guard, euen there
Against the hofpitable Canon, would I
Wash my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to th'Citie,
Learne how 'tis held, and what they are that must
Be Hoftages for Rome.

Soul. Will not you go?

Auf. I am attended at the Cyprus groue. I pray you
(Tis South the City Mils) bring me word thither
How the world goes : that to the pace of it
I may spurre on my iouney.

Soul. I shall fir.

Actus Secundus.

Enter Menenius with the two Tribunes of the
people, Sicinius & Brutus.

Men. The Agurer tels me, wee shall haue Newes to
night.

Bru. Good or bad?

Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for
they loue not Martius.

Sicin. Nature teaches Beasts to know their Friends.

Men. Pray you, who does the Wolfe loue ?

Sicin. The Lambe.

Men. I, to deuour him, as the hungry Plebeians would
the Noble Martius.

Bru. He's a Lambe indeed, that baes like a Beare.

Men. Hec's a Beare indeede, that liues like a Lambe.
You two are old men, tell me one thing that I shall aske
you.

Both. Well fir.

Men. In what enormity is Martius poore in, that you
two haue not in abundance ?

Bru. He's poore in no one fault, but for that withall.

Sicin. Especially in Pride.

Bru. And topping all others in boasting.

Men. This is a strange now : Do you, two know, how
you are cenfured heere in the City, I mean of vs a th'right
hand File, do you?

Both. Why? ho ware we cenfurd?

Men. Because you talke of Pride now, will you not
be angry.

Both. Well, well fir, well.

Men. Why'tis no great matter: for a very little thefe
of Occafion, will rob you of a great deale of Patience.

Gie your dispoſitions the reines, and bee angry at your
pleafures (at the leaſt) if you take it as a pleafure to you,
being ſo: you blame Martius for being proud.

Brut. We do it not alone, fir.

Men. I know you can doe very little alone, for your
helpes are many, or else your actions would growe won-
drous ſingle: your abilities are to Infant-like, for doin-
much alone. You talke of Pride: Oh, that you could turn
your eyes toward the Naples of your neckes, and make
but an Interiour ſuruey of your good ſelues. Oh that you
could.

Both. What then fir ?

Men. Why then you ſhould difcouer a brace of re-
meriting, proud, violent, teſtie Magiftrates (alias Fooles)
as any in Rome.

Sicin. Menenius, you are knowne well enough too.

Men. I am knowne to be a humorous Patritian, and
one that loues a cup of hot Wine, with not a drop of slay-
ing Tiber in't: Said to be something imperfect in fauou-
ring the firſt complaint, haſty and Tinder-like vppon,
triauall motion: One, that conuerſes more with the Buc-
tocke of the night, then with the forhead of the morning.
What I think, I vtter, and ſpend my malice in my breath.
Meeting two ſuch Weales men as you are (I cannot call
you Lienrgruffes,) if the drinke you giue me, touch my Pa-
lat aduerſly, I make a crooked face at it, I can ſay, your
Worſhippes haue deliuer'd the matter well, when I find
the Aſſe in compound, with the Maior part of your ſylla-
bles. And though I muſt be content to beare with thole,
that ſay you are reuerend graue men, yet they lye deadly,
that tell you haue good faces, if you fee this in the Map
of my Microcosme, followes it that I am knowne well e-
nough too? What harme can your beefeome Conſpechi-
ties glane out of this Charaſter, if I be knowne well e-
nough too.

Bru. Come fir come, we know you well enough.

Menen. You know neither mee, your ſelues, nor any
thing: you are ambitious, for poore knaues cappes and
legges: you weare out a good wholeſome Forenoon, in
hearing a caufe betweene an Orendge wife, and a Forſi-
feller, and then reiournie the Controuerſie of three-pence
to a ſecond day of Audience. When you are hearing a
matter betweene party and party, if you chaunce to bee
pinch'd with the Collicke, you make faces like Mum-
mers, ſet vp the bloodie Flagge againſt all Patience, and
in roaring for a Chamber-pot, diſmiffie the Controuerſie
bleeding, the more intangled by your hearing : All the
peace you make in their Caufe, is calling both the parties
Knaues. You are a payre of ſtrange ones.

Bru. Come, come, you are well vnderflood to bee a
perfecſter gyber for the Table, then a neceſſary Bencher in
the Capitoll.

Men. Our very Priefts muſt become Mockers, if they
ſhall encounter ſuch ridiculous Subieſts as you are, when
you ſpeake beſt vnto the purpose. It is not woorthe the
wagging of your Beards, and your Beards deferuene not to
honourable graue, as to ſtuffe a Botchers Cuffiion, or to
be intomb'd in an Aſſes Packe-faddle; yet you muſt bee
ſaying, Martius is proud: who in a cheape eſtimation, is
worth all your predeceſſors, ſince Dencaution, though per-
adventure ſome of the beſt of 'em were hereditarie hang-
men. Godden to your Worſhips, more of your conter-
fation would inſect my Braine, being the Heardſmen of
the Beaſtly Plebeans. I will be bold to take my leaue of
you.

Bru. and Scie.

Aſide.

Enter

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

9

### Enter Volumina, Virgilia, and Valeria.

How now (my as faire as Noble) Ladyes, and the Moone
were mee Earthly, no Nobler; whither doe you follow
your Eyes so faft?

Volum. Honorable Menenius, my Boy Martius approaches: for the loue of Iuno let's goe.

Menen. Ha? Martius comming home?

Volum. I, worthy Menenius, and with moft prosperous approbation.

Menen. Take my Cappe Iupiter, and I thanke thee:
hoo, Martius comming home?

2. Ladies. Nay, 'tis true.

Volum. Looke, here's a Letter from him, the State hath another, his Wife another, and (I thinke) there's one at home for you.

Menen. I will make my very houſe reele to night:
A Letter for me?

Virgil. Yes certaine, there's a Letter for you, I saw't.

Menen. A Letter for me? it gues me an Estate of ſeu-
enyeeres health; in which time, I will make a Lippe at the
Phyſician: The moſt ſoueraigne Preſcription in Galen,
is but Emperick ſutique; and to this Preſeruatiue, of no
better report then a Horſe-drench. Is he not wounded?
he was wont to come home wounded?

Virgil. Oh no, no, no.

Volum. Oh, he is wounded; I thank the Gods for't.

Menen. So do I too, if it be not too much: brings a
Vicorie in his Pocket? the wounds become him.

Volum. On's Browes: Menenius, hee comes the third time home with the Aken Garland.

Menen. Ha's he diſciplin'd Auffidius foundly?

Volum. Titus Lartius writes, they fought together, but
Auffidius got off.

Menen. And 'twas time for him too, Ile warrant him
that: and he had ſlay'd by him. I would not haue been ſo
fiddious'd, for all the Cheſts in Carioles, and the Gold
that's in them. Is the Senate poſſeft of this?

Volum. Good Ladies let's goe. Yes, yes, yes: The
Senate ha's Letters from the Generall, wherein hee gues
my Sonne the whole Name of the Warre: he hath in this
action out-done his former deeds doubly.

Valer. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him.

Menen. Wondrous: I, I warrant you, and not without his true purchasing.

Virgil. The Gods graunt them true.

Volum. True? pow waw.

Mene. True? Ile be ſworne they are true: where is
hee wounded, God faue your good Worſhips? Martius
is comming home: hee ha's more cauſe to be proud
where is he wounded?

Volum. Ith' Shoulder, and ith' left Arme: there will be
large Cicatrices to ſhew the People, when hee ſhall stand
for his place: he receiued in the repulſe of Tarquin ſeuen
hurts ith' Body.

Mene. One ith' Neck, and two ith' Thigh, there's nine
that I know.

Volum. Hee had; before this laſt Expedition, twentie
ſue Wounds upon him.

Mene. Now it's twentie ſeuen; euery gafh was an
Enemies Graue. Hearke, the Trumpets.

A ſnowt, and flourith.

Volum. These are the Vſhers of Martius:
Before him, hee carryes Noyſe:
And behinde him, hee leaues Teares:

Death, that darke Spirit, in's neruie Arme doth lye,
Which being aduanc'd, declines, and then men dye.

A Sonnet.

Trumpets found.

Enter Cominius the Generall, and Titus Latius: betweene them Coriolanus, crown'd with an Aken Garland, with Captaines and Souldiers, and a Herald.

Herauld. Know Rome, that all alone Martius did fight
Within Corioles Gates: where he hath wonne,
With Fame, a Name to Martius Cains:

Theſe in honor followes Martius Cains Coriolanus.
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus.

Sound. Flourith.

All. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus.

Coriol. No more of this, it does offend my heart: pray
now no more.

Com. Looke, Sir, your Mother.

Coriol. Oh! you haue, I know, petition'd all the Gods
for my proſperitie.

Kneelees.

Volum. Nay, my good Souldier, vp:

My gentle Martius, worthy Cains,
And by deed-atchieuing Honor nevly nam'd,
What is it (Coriolanus) muſt I call thee?
But oh, thy Wife.

Corio. My gracious ſilence, hayle:

Would'ſt thou haue laugh'd, had I come Coffu'd home,
That weep'ſt to fee me triumph? Ah my deare,
Such eyes the Widowes in Carioles were,
And Mothers that lacke Sonnes.

Mene. Now the Gods Crowne thee.

Com. And liue you yet? Oh my SWEET Lady, pardon.

Volum. I know not where to turne.

Oh welcome home; and welcome Generall,
And y'are welcome all.

Mene. A hundred thousand Welcomes:

I could weepe, and I could laugh,

I am light, and heauie; welcome:

A Curſe begin at very root on's heart,

That is not glad to fee thee.

Yon are three, that Rome should dote on:

Yet by the faith of men, we haue

Some old Crab-trees here at home,

That will not be grafted to your Rallif.

Yet welcome Warriors:

Wee call a Nettle, but a Nettle;

And the faults of fooles, but folly.

Com. Euer right.

Cor. Menenius, euer, euer.

Herauld. Giue way there, and goe on.

Cor. Your Hand, and yours?

Ere in our owne houſe I doe ſhade my Head,

The good Patricians muſt be viſited,

From whom I haue receiued not onely greeſings,

But with them, change of Honors,

Volum. I haue liued,

To fee inherited my very Wifhes,

And the Buildings of my Fancie:

Only there's one thing wanting,

Which (I doubt not) but our Rome

Will caſt vpon thee.

Cor. Know, good Mother,
I had rather be their ſeruant in my way,
Then ſway with them in theirs.

Com. On, to the Capitall.

Flourith. Cornets.

Exenunt in State, as before.

Enter

10

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

Enter *Brutus* and *Scicinius*.

**Bru.** All tongues fpeake of him, and the bleared fights
Are spectacled to fee him. Your pratling Nurfe
Into a rapture lets her Baby crie,
While she chats him: the Kitchin Malkin pinnes
Her richeft Lockram'bout her reechie necke,
Clambring the Walls to eye him:
Stalls, Bulkes, Windowes, are I mother'd vp,
Leades fill'd, and Ridges hors'd
With variable Complexions; all agreeing
In earneſtneſſe to fee him: ſeld-ſhowne Flamins
Doe preſſe among the popular Throngs, and puffe
To winne a vulgar ſtation: our veyl'd Dames
Commit the Warre of White and Damaske
In their nicely gawded Cheekes, toth' wanton ſpoyle
Of Phæbus burning Kiffes: ſuch a poother,
As if that whatſoever God, who leades him,
Were flyly crept into his humane powers,
And gaue him gracefull poſture.

*Scicin.* On the fuddaine, I warrant him Conſull.

*Brutus.* Then our Office may, during his power, goe
ſl eepe.

*Scicin.* He cannot temp'rately transſport his Honors,
From where he ſhould begin, and end, but will
Loſe that he hath wonne.

*Brutus.* In that there's comfort.

*Scicin.* Doubt not,

The Commoners, for whom we ſtand, but they
Vpon their ancient mallice, will forget
With the leaſt caufe, theſe his new Honors,
Which that he will giue them, make I as little question,
As he is proud to doo't.

*Brutus.* I heard him ſware,
Were he to ſtand for Conſull, neuer would he
Appeare i'th'Market place, nor on him put
The Naples ſ of Humilitie,
Nor ſhewing (as the manner is) his Wounds
Toth' People, begge their ſtinking Breaths.

*Scicin.* 'Tis right.

*Brutus.* It was his word:
Oh he would miſſe it, rather then carry it,
But by the ſuite of the Gentry to him,
And the deſire of the Nobles.

*Scicin.* I wifh no better, then haue him hold that pur-
pofe, and to put it in execution.

*Brutus.* 'Tis moſt like he will.

*Scicin.* It ſhall be to him then, as our good wills; a
ſure deſtruction.

*Brutus.* So it muſt fall out
To him, or our Authorities, for an end.
We muſt ſuggeſt the People, in what hatred
He ſtill hath held them: that to's power he would
Haue made them Mules, ſilenc'd their Pleadors,
And diſpropertied their Freedomes; holding them,
In humane Action, and Capacitie,
Of no more Soule, nor ſitneſſe for the World,
Then Cammels in their Warre, who haue their Prouand
Onely for bearing Burthens, and ſore blowes
For ſinking vnder them.

*Scicin.* This (as you ſay) ſuggeſted,
At ſome time, when his foaring Inſolence
Shall teach the People, which time ſhall not want,
If he be put vpon't, and that's as eſſe,
As to ſet Dogges on Sheepe, will be his fire

To kindle their dry Stubble: and their Blaze
Shall darken him for euer.

Enter a Messenger.

*Brutus.* What's the matter?

*Mess.* You are ſent for to the Capitoll:
'Tis thought, that *Martius* shall be Conſull:
I haue ſeene the dumbe men throng to fee him,
And the blind to heare him ſpeak: Matrons flong Glones,
Ladies and Maids their Scarffes, and Handketchers,
Vpon him as he paſ'd: the Nobles bended
As to Ioues Statue, and the Commons made
A Shower, and Thunder, with their Caps, and ſhowes:
I neuer ſaw the like.

*Brutus.* Let's to the Capitoll,
And carry with vs Eares and Eyes for th' time,
But Hearts for the euent.

*Scicin.* Haue with you.

*Exeunt.*

Enter two Officers, to lay Cuffions, as it were,
in the Capitoll.

1. Off. Come, come, they are almoſt here: how many
ſtand for Conſuſhions?

2. Off. Three, they ſay: but 'tis thought of euery one,
*Coriolanus* will carry it.

1. Off. That's a braue fellow: but hee's vengeance
prowd, and loues not the common people.

2. Off. 'Faith, there hath beene many great men that
haue flatter'd the people, who ne're loued them; and there
be many that they haue loued, they know not wherefore:
so that if they loue they know not why, they hate vpon
no better a ground. Therefore, for *Coriolanus* neyther to
care whether they loue, or hate him, manifeets the true
knowledge he ha's in their diſpoſition, and out of his No-
ble careneſſe lets them plainely fee't.

1. Off. If he did not care whether he had their loue, or
no, hee waued indifferently, 'twixt doing them neyther
good, nor harme: but hee ſeekeſs their hate with greater
duotation, then they can render it him; and leaves nothing
vndone, that may fully diſcourſe him their oppofite. Now
to ſeeme to affect the mallice and diſpleſure of the Peo-
ple, is as bad, as that which he diſlikes, to flatter them for
their loue.

2. Off. Hee hath deferued worthily of his Country,
and his affent is not by ſuch eſſe degrees as thate, who
haning beene ſettle and courteous to the People, Ban-
netted, without any further deed, to haue them at all into
their eſtimation, and report: but hee hath ſo planted his
Honors in their Eyes, and his actions in their Hearts, that
for their Tongues to be ſilent, and not conſeſſe so much,
were a kinde of ingratefull Iniurie: to report otherwife,
were a Malice, that giuing it ſelfe the Lye, would plucke
reproofe and rebuke from euery Eare that heard it.

1. Off. No more of him, hee's a worthy man: make
way, they are comming.

*A Senet. Enter the Patricians, and the Tribunes of the People, Lictors before them: Coriolanus, Menænus, Cominius the Conſular, Scieinius and Brutus take their places by themſelues: Coriolanus stands.*

*Menen. Hauing determin'd of the Volces,
And to ſend for Titus Lartius: it remaines,
As the maine Point of this our after-meeting,*

To

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

II

To gratifie his Noble ſeruice, that hath
Thus ſtood for his Countrey. Therefore please you,
Moſt reuerend and graue Elders, to deſire
The prefent Conſull, and laſt Generall,
In our well-found Suſeſſes, to report
A little of that worthy Worke, perform'd
By *Martius Cains Coriolanus* : whom
We met here, both to thanke, and to remember,
With Honors like himſelfe.

1. Sen. Speake, good Cominius :

Leave nothing out for length, and make vs thinke
Rather our ſtates defectiue for reunitall,
Then we to ſtretch it out. Maſters a'th' People,
We doe requeſt your kindeſt cares: and after
Your louing motion toward the common Body,
To yeeld what paffes here.

Scicin. We are conducted vpon a pleasing Treaſtic, and
haue hearts inclinable to honor and aduance the Theame
of our Aſſembly.

Brutus. Which the rather wee ſhall be bleſt to doe, if
he remember a kinder value of the People, then he hath
hereto priz'd them at.

Menen. That's off, that's off: I would you rather had
been ſilent: Please you to heare Cominius ſpeake?

Brutus. Moſt willingly : but yet my Caution was
more pertinent then the rebuke you giue it.

Menen. He loues your People, but tye him not to be
their Bed-fellow: Worthie Cominius ſpeake.

Coriolanus riles, and offers to goe away.

Nay, keepe your place.

Senat. Sit Coriolanus : neuer ſhame to heare

What you haue Nobly done.

Coriol. Your Honors pardon :

I had rather haue my Wounds to heale againe,

Then heare fay how I heare them.

Brutus. Sir, I hope my words dis-bench'd you not?

Coriol. No Sir: yet oft,

When blowes haue made me ſay, I fled from words.

You footed not, therefore hurt not; but your People,

I loue them as they weigh--

Menen. Pray now fit downe.

Corio. I had rather haue one ſcratch my Head i'th' Sun,
When the Alarum were ſtrucke, then idly fit

To heare my Nothings monſter'd.

Exit Coriolanus

Menen. Maſters of the People,

Your multiplying Spawne, how can he flatter?

That's thoufand to one good one, when you now ſee

He had rather venture all his Limbes for Honor,

Then on ones Eares to heare it. Proceed Cominius.

Com. I ſhall lacke voyce: the deeds of Coriolanus

Should not be vttter'd ſeekely : it is held,

That Valour is the chieſeſt Vertue,

And moſt dignifies the hauer: if it be,

The man I ſpeake of, cannot in the World

Be ſingly counter-poys'd. At fixteene yeeres,

When *Tarquin* made a Head for Rome, he fought

Beyond the marke of others : our then Dictator,

Whom with all payſe I point at, ſaw him fight,

When with his Amazonian Shinne he droue

The brizled Lippes before him: he beſtrid

An o're-preſt Roman, and, i'th' Conſuls view

Slew three Oppofers: *Tarquin* ſelſe he met,

And ſtrueke him on his Knee: in that dayes ſeates,

When he might aſt the Woman in the Scene,

He prou'd beſt man i'th' field, and for his meed

Was Brow-bound with the Oake. His Pupill age

Man-entred thus, he waxed like a Sea,

And in the brunt of ſeuenteene Batcailes ſince,

He lurcht all Swords of the Garland: for this laſt,

Before, and in Corioles, let me ſay

I cannot ſpeake him home: he ſtopt the flyers,

And by his rare example made the Coward

Turne terror into ſport: as Weeds before

A Veffell vnder ſayle, to men obey'd,

And fell below his Stem: his Sword, Deaths ſtampe,

Where it did marke, it tooke from face to foot:

He was a thing of Blood, whoſe euery motion

Was tim'd with dying Ciyes: alone he entred

The mortall Gate of th' Citie, which he painted

With ſhunleſſe deſtinity: aydeſſe came off,

And with a ſudden re-inſforcement ſtrucke

Carioles like a Planet: now all's his,

When by and by the dinne of Warre gan pierce

His readie ſence : then ſtraight his doubled ſpirit

Requickned what in ſlesh was fatigate,

And to the Battaille came he, where he did

Runne reeking o're the liues of men, as it were

A perpetuall ſpoyle: and till we call'd

Both Field and Citie ours, he neuer ſtood

To eafe his Breſt with panting.

Menen. Worthy man.

Senat. He cannot but with meaſure fit the Honors
which we deuife him.

Com. Our ſpoyles he kickt at,

And look'd vpon things precious, as they were

The common Muck of the World: he couets leſſe

Then Miferie it ſelſe would giue, rewards his deeds

With doing them, and is content

To ſpend the time, to end it.

Menen. Hec's right Noble, let him be call'd for.

Senat. Call Coriolanus.

Off. He doth appeare.

Enter Coriolanus.

Menen. The Senate, Coriolanus, are well pleas'd to make
thee Conſull.

Corio. I doe owe them ſtill my Life, and ſeruices.

Menen. It then remaines, that you do ſpeake to the
People.

Corio. I doe beſeech you,

Let me o're-leape that cuſtome: for I cannot

Put on the Gowne, ſtand naked, and entreat them.

For my Wounds ſake, to give their ſufferage :

Please you that I may pafle this doing.

Scicin. Sir, the People muſt haue their Voyces,

Neyther will they bate one iot of Ceremonie.

Menen. Put them not too't:

Pray you goe fit you to the Cuſtome,

And take to you, as your Predeceſſors haue,

Your Honor with your forme.

Corio. It is a part that I ſhall bluſh in acting,

And might well be taken from the People.

Brutus. Marke you that.

Corio. To brag vnto them, thus I did, and thus

Shew them th' vnaking Skarres, which I should hide,

As if I had recei'd them for the hyre

Of their breath onely.

Menen. Doe not ſtand vpon't:

We recommend to you Tribunes of the People

Our purpose to them, and to our Noble Conſull

Wish we all Ioy, and Honor.

Senat. To

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

12

Senat. To Coriolanus come all ioy and Honor.
Floribus Cornets.

Then Exeunt. Manet Sicinius and Brutus.

Bru. You see how he intends to vse the people.

Sciein. May they perceive's intent: he wil require them
As if he did contemne what he requested,
Should be in them to giue.

Bru. Come, wee'l informe them
Of our proceedings heere on th' Market place,
I know they do attend vs.

Enter Senen or eight Citizens.

1. Cit. Once if he do require our voyces, wee ou gh not to deny him.

2. Cit. We may Sir if we will.

3. Cit. We haue power in our felues to do it, but it is a power that we haue no power to do: For, if hee shew vs his wounds, and tell vs his deeds, we are to put our ton-gues into those wounds, and speake for them: So if he tel vs his Noble deeds, we must also tell him our Noble ac-ceptance of them. Ingratitude is monstrous, and for the multitude to be ingratefull, were to make a Monfer of the multitude; of the which, we being members, should bring our felues to be monstrous members.

1. Cit. And to make vs no better thought of a little helpe will ferue: for once we ftood vp about the Corne, he himselfe flucke not to call vs the many-headed Multi-tude.

3. Cit. We haue beene call'd fo of many, not that our heads are some browne, some blacke, some Abram, some bald; but that our wits are so diuerfly Coulord; and truer-ly I thinke, if all our wittes were to iffue out of one Scull, they would flye Eaft, Weft, North, South, and their con-fent of one direct way, should be at once to all the points a'th Compasse.

2. Cit. Thinke you so? Which way do you iudge my wit would flye.

3. Cit. Nay your wit will not so one out as another mans will, 'tis strongly wadg'd vp in a blocke-head: but if it were at liberty, 'twould fure Southward.

2. Cit. Why that way?

3. Cit. To looke it selfe in a Fogge, where being three parts melted away with rotten Dewes, the fourth would returne for Conſcience fake, to helpe to get thee a Wife.

2. Cit. You are neuer without your tricks, you may, you may.

3. Cit. Are you all refolu'd to give your voyces? But that's no matter, the greater part carries it, I fay. If hee would incline to the people, there was neuer a worthier man.

Enter Coriolanus in a gowne of Humility, with Menenius.

Heere he comes, and in the Gowne of humilitie, marke his behauiour: we are not to flay altogether, but to come by him where he stands, by ones, by twoes, & by threes. He's to make his requeſts by particulars, wherein euere one of vs ha's a ſingle Honor, in giuing him our own voic-es with our owne tongues, therefore follow me, and Ile direct you how you ſhall go by him.

All. Content, content.

Men. Oh Sir, you are not right: haue you not knowne The worthiſt men haue done?

Corio. What muſt I fay, I pray Sir?

Plague vpon't, I cannot bring
My toughe to ſuch a pace. Looke Sir, my wounds,
I got them in my Countries ſeruice, when
Some certaine of your Brethren roar'd, and ranne

From th' noise of our owne Drummes.

Menen. Oh me the Gods, you muſt not ſpeak of that
You muſt deſire them to thinke vpon you.

Coriol. Thinke vpon me? Hang 'em,
I would they would forget me, like the Vertues
Which our Diuines lofe by em.

Men. You'l marre all,
Ile leaue you: Pray you ſpeake to em, I pray you
In wholſome manner.

Exit

Enter three of the Citizens.

Corio. Bid them waſh their Faces,
And keepe their teeth cleane: So, heere comes a brace,
You know the caufe (Sir) of my standing here.

3. Cit. We do Sir, tell vs what hath brought you too?

Corio. Mine owne defert.

2. Cit. Your owne defert.

Corio. I, but mine owne deſire.

3. Cit. How not your owne deſire?

Corio. No Sir, 'twas neuer my deſire yet to trouble the poore with begging.

3. Cit. You muſt thinke if we give you any thing, we hope to gaine by you.

Corio. Well then I pray, your price a'th' Conſuſhip.

1. Cit. The price is, to aske it kindlie.

Corio. Kindly fir, I pray let me ha't: I haue wounds to ſhow you, which ſhall bee yours in priuate: your good voice Sir, what ſay you?

2. Cit. You ſhall ha't worthy Sir.

Corio. A match Sir, there's in all two worthie voyces begg'd: I haue your Almes, Adieu.

3. Cit. But this is ſomething odde.

2. Cit. And 'twere to give againe: but 'tis no matter.

Exeunt.
Enter two other Citizens.

Coriol. Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune of your voices, that I may bee Conſull, I haue heere the Cuitomarie Gowne.

1. You haue deferued Nobly of your Countrie, and you haue not deferued Nobly.

Coriol. Your Ænigma.

1. You haue bin a ſcourge to her enemies, you haue bin a Rod to her Friends, you haue not indeede loued the Common people.

Coriol. You ſhould account mee the more Vertuous, that I haue not bin common in my Loue, I will fir flatter my ſworne Brother the people to earne a deereer eliſation of them, 'tis a condition they account gentle: ke the wifedome of their choice, is rather to haue my Hat, then my Heart, I will practice the infinuating nod, and be off to them moſt counterſetely, that is fir, I will counterſet the bewitchment of ſome popular man, and giue it bountiſull to the deſirers: Therefore beſeech you, I may be Conſull.

2. Wee hope to finde you our friend: and therefore give you our voices heartily.

1. You haue receyued, many, wounds for your Countrie.

Coriol. I will not Scale your knowledge with ſhewing them. I will make much of your voyces, and ſo trouble you no farther.

Both. The Gods give you ioy Sir heartily.

Coriol. Moſt ſweet Voyces:
Better it is to dye, better to ferue,
Then craue the higher, which firſt we do deferue.
Why in this Wooluſh tongue ſhould I ſtand here,
To begge of Hob and Dicke, that does appeere

Their

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

13

Their needleſſe Vouches: Cúſtome calls me too't.
What Cúſtome wills in all things, I should we doot'?

The Duſt on antique Time would lye vnſwep't,
And mountainous Error be too highly hea't,
For Truth to o're-peere. Rather then foole it ſo,
Let the high Office and the Honor go

To one that would doe thus. I am halfe through,
The one part ſuffered, the other will I doe.

*Enter three Citizens more.*

Here come moe Voyces.

Your Voyces? for your Voyces I haue fought,
Watcht for your Voyces: for your Voyces, beare
Of Wounds, two dozen odde: Battries thrice ſix
I haue feene, and heard of: for your Voyces,
Hae done many things, ſome leſſe, ſome more:
Your Voyces? Indeed I would be Conſull.

1. Cit. Hee has done Nobly, and cannot goe without any honest mans Voyce.

2. Cit. Therefore let him be Conſull: the Gods give him joy, and make him good friend to the People.

All. Amen, Amen. God faue thee, Noble Conſull,

Corio. Worthy Voyces.

*Enter Menenius, with Brutus and Scicinens.*

Mene. You haue flood your Limitation:

And the Tribunes endue you with the Peoples Voyce,
Remaines, that in th' Officiall Markes inueſted,
You anon doe meet the Senate.

Corio. Is this done?

Scicin. The Cúſtome of Requeſt you haue diſcharg'd:

The People doe admit you, and are ſummon'd

To meet anon, vpon your approbation.

Corio. Where? at the Senate-house?

Scicin. There, Coriolanus.

Corio. May I change theſe Garments?

Scicin. You may, Sir.

Cori. That Ile straight do: and knowing my ſelfe again,
Repayre toth' Senate-house.

Mene. Ile keepe you company. Will you along?

Brut. We lay here for the People.

Corio. Fare you well.

Exeunt Coriol. and Mene.

He ha's it now: and by his Lookes, me thinkes,
Tis warme at's heart.

Brut. With a proude heart he wore his humble Weeds:
Will you diſmiffle the People?

*Enter the Plebeians.*

Scicin. How now, my Maſters, haue you choſe this man?

1. Cit. He ha's our Voyces, Sir.

Brut. We pray the Gods, he may deferue your loues.

2. Cit. Amen, Sir: to my poore vnworthy notice,

He mock'd vs, when he begg'd our Voyces.

3. Cit. Certainly, he flowted vs downe-right.

1. Cit. No, 'tis his kind of ſpeech, he did not mock vs.

2. Cit. Not one amongst vs, ſaue your ſelfe, but ſayes
He vs'd vs ſcornefully: he ſhould haue ſhew'd vs

His Marks of Merit, Wounds recei'd for his Countrey.

Scicin. Why ſo he did. I am ſure.

All. No, no: no man ſaw 'em.

3. Cit. Hee ſaid hee had Wounds,

Which he could ſhew in private:
And with his Hat, thus wauing it in ſcorne,
I would be Conſull, ſayes he: aged Cúſtome,
But by your Voyces, will not ſo permit me.

Your Voyces therefore: when we graunted that,
Here was, I thanke you for your Voyces, thanke you

Your moſt freeſt Voyces: now you haue left your Voyces,
I haue no further with you. Was not this mockerie?

Scicin. Why eyther were you ignorant to fee't?
Or feeing it, of ſuch Childliſh friendlineſſe,
To yeeld your Voyces?

Brut. Could you not haue told him,
As you were leſſon'd: When he had no Power,
But was a pettie ſeruant to the State,
He was your Enemie, euer I pake againſt
Your Liberties, and the Charters that you beate
I'ch' Body of the Weale: and now arriuing

A place of Potencie, and ſway o' th' State,

If he should fill malignantly remaine
Faſt Foe toth' Plebeij, your Voyces might

Be Curſes to your ſelues. You ſhould haue faid,

That as his worthy deeds did clayme no leſſe

Then what he flood for: ſo his gracious nature

Would thinke vpon you, for your Voyces,

And translate his Mallice towards you, into Loue,

Standing your friendly Lord,

Scicin. Thus to haue ſaid,

As you were ſore-aduis'd, had toucht his Spirit,
And try'd his Inclination: from him pluckt

Eyther his gracious Promife, which you might

As cauſe had call'd you vp, haue held him to;
Or eſſe it would haue gall'd his ſurly nature,

Which easily endures not Article,

Tying him to ought, ſo purcing him to Rage,
You ſhould haue ta'n e th' aduantage of his Choller,
And pats'd him vnelected.

Brut. Did you perceiue,

He did ſollicite you in free Contempt,

When he did need your Loues: and do you thinke,

That his Contempt ſhall not be brufing to you,

When he hath power to cruſh? Why, had your Bodyes

No Heart among you? Or had you Tongues, to cry

A gainſt the Rectorſhip of Iudgement?

Scicin. Haue you, ere now, deny'd the asker:

And now againe, of him that did not aske, but mock,
Beflow your ſu'd-for Tongues?

3. Cit. Hee's not confirm'd, we may deny him yet.

2. Cit. And will deny him:

Ile haue ſiue hundred Voyces of that found.

1. Cit. I twice ſiue hundred, & their friends, to piece 'em.

Brut. Get you hence, inflantly, and tell theſe friends,
They haue choſe a Conſull, that will from them take
Their Liberties, make them of no more Voyce
Then Dogges, that are as often beat for barking,
As therefore kept to doe ſo.

Scicin. Let them affembler and on a ſafer Iudgement,
All reuoke your ignorant election: Enforce his Pride,
And his old Hafe vuto you: beſides, forget not
With what Contempt he wore the humble Weed,

How in his Suit he ſcorn'd you: but your Loues,
Thinking vpon his ſeruices, tooke from you

Th' apprehension of his preſent portance,

Which moſt gibingly, vngraueſly, he did fashion
After the inueſterate Hafe he beares you.

Brut. Lay a fault on vs, your Tribunes,
That we labour'd (no impediment betweene)
But that you muſt caſt your Election on him.

Scicin. Say you choſe him, more after our commandment,
Then as guided by your owne true affections, and that
Your Minds pre-occupy'd with what you rather muſt do,
Then what you ſhould, made you againſt the graine
To Voyce him Conſull, Lay the fault on vs.

bb

Brut. I,

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

14

Brut. I, spare vs not: Say, we read Lectures to you,
How youngly he began to ferue his Countrey,
How long continued, and what stock he ivings of,
The Noble House o'th' Martians: from whence came
That Ancus Martius, Numae Daughters Sonne:
Who after great Hoftiluus here was King,
Of the fame House Publius and Quintus were,
That our beſt Water, brought by Conduits hither,
And Nobly nam'd, ſo twice being Cenfor,
Was his great Anceſt or.

Seicin. One thus defcended,
That hath beſide well in his perſon wrought,
To be ſet high in place, we did commend
To your remembrances: but you haue found,
Skaling his preſent bearing with his paſt,
That hee's your fixed enemie; and reuoke
Your fuddaine approbation.

Brut. Say you ne're had don't,
(Harpe on that ſill) but by our putting on:
And preſently, when you haue drawne your number,
Repaire toth' Capitoll.

All. We will ſo: almost all repent in their election.

Exeunt Plebeians.

Brut. Let them goe on:

This Mutinie were better put in hazard,
Then ſay paſt doubt, for greater:
If, as his nature is, he fall in rage
With their reſuall, both obferue and anſwer
The vantage of his anger.

Seicin. Toth' Capitoll, come:
We will be there before the ſtreame o'th' People:
And this ſhall ſeeme, as partly 'tis, their owne,
Which we haue goaded on-ward.

Exeunt.

Actus Tertius.

Cornets. Enter Coriolanus, Menenius, all the Gentry,
Cominius, Titus Latius, and other Senators.

Corio. Tullus Auffidius then had made new head.

Latius. He had, my Lord, and that it was which caus'd
Our Swifter Composition.

Corio. So then the Volces ſtand but as at first,
Readie when time ſhall prompt them, to make roade
Vpon's againe.

Com. They are worne (Lord Conſull) ſo,
That we ſhall hardly in our ages fee
Their Banners waue againe.

Corio. Saw you Auffidius ?

Latius. On ſafegard he came to me, and did curſe
Againſt the Volces, for they had ſo vildly
Yeelded the Towne: he is retyred to Antium.

Corio. Spoke he of me ?

Latius. He did, my Lord.

Corio. How ? what?

Latius. How often he had met you Sword to Sword:
That of all things vpon the Earth, he hated
Your perſon moſt: That he would pawne his fortunes
To hopeleſſe reſtitution, ſo he might

Be call'd your Vanquifher.

Corio. At Antium liues he ?

Latius. At Antium.

Corio. I wíſh I had a cauſe to feeke him there,
To oppoſe his hatred fully. Welcome home.

Enter Scicinius and Brutus.

Behold, theſe are the Tribunes of the People,
The Tongues o'th' Common Mouth. I do deſpife them :

For they doe pranke them in Authoritie,
Againſt all Noble ſufferance.

Scicin. Paffe no further.

Cor. Hah ? what is that ?

Brut. It will be dangerous to goe on--No further.

Corio. What makes this change ?

Mene. The matter ?

Com. Hath he not paſſ'd the Noble, and the Comming?

Brut. Cominius, no.

Corio. Haue I had Childrens Voyces?

Senat. Tribunes give way, he shall toth' Market place.

Brut. The People are incens'd againſt him.

Scicin. Stop, or all will fall in broyle.

Corio. Are theſe your Heard ?

Muſt theſe haue Voyces, that can yeeld them now,
And ſtraight disclaim their toungs? what are your Oſſices?
You being their Mouthes, why rule you not their Teeth?
Haue you not ſet them on?

Mene. Be calme, be calme.

Corio. It is a purpov'd thing, and growes by Plot,
To curbe the will of the Nobilitie:

Suffer't, and liue with ſuch as cannot rule,
Nor euer will be ruled.

Brut. Call't not a Plot :

The People cry you mockt them : and of late,
When Corne was giuen them gratis, you repin'd,
Scandal'd the Suppliants: for the People, call'd them
Time-pleafers, flatterers, foſs to Noblenſe.

Corio. Why this was knowne before.

Brut. Not to them all.

Corio. Haue you inſorin'd them ſithence ?

Brut. How? I inſorme them ?

Com. You are like to doe ſuch buſineſſe.

Brut. Not vnlike each way to better yours.

Corio. Why then ſhould I be Conſull by yond Clouds
Let me deferue ſo ill as you, and make me
Your fellow Tribune.

Scicin. You ſhew too much of that,
For which the People ſirre: if you will paffe
To where you are bound, you muſt enquire your way,
Which you are out of, with a gentler ſpirit,
Or neuer be ſo Noble as a Conſull,
Nor yoake with him for Tribune.

Mene. Let's be calme.

Com. The People are abus'd: ſet on; this paltrring
Becomes not Rome: nor ha's Coriolanus
Deferu'd this ſo diſhonor'd Rub, layd falſely
I'th' plaine Way of his Merit.

Corio. Tell me of Corne: this was my ſpeech,
And I will ſpeak't againe.

Mene. Not now, not now.

Senat. Not in this heat, Sir, now.

Corio. Now as I liue, I will.

My Nobler friends, I craue their pardons:
For the mutable ranke-fentèd Meynie,
Let them regard me, as I doe not flatter,
And therein behold themſelues: I ſay againe,
In soothing them, we nouriſh 'gainſt our Senate
The Cockle of Rebellion, Inſolence, Sedition,
Which we our ſelues haue plowed for, ſow'd, & ſatter th'
By mingling them with vs, the honor'd Number,
Who lack not Vertue, no, nor Power, but that
Which they haue giuen to Beggers.

Mene. Well, no more.

Senat. No more words, we beſeech you.

Corio. How? no more?

A

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

15

As for my Country, I haue flied my blood,

Not fearing outward force: So shall my Lungs
Come words till their decay, against those Meazels
Which we disdaine should Tenter vs, yet found out
The very way to catch them.

Bnu. You speak a th'people, as if you were a God,

To punish; Note a man, of their Infirmity.

Sicin. 'Twas well we let the people know that,

Menæ. What, what? His Choler?

Cor. Choller? Were I as patient as the midnight sleep,
By loue, 'twould be my mindes to be a child, and so
Sicin. It is a mind that shall remain a poison.

Where it is: not poyson any further.

Corio. Shall remaine?

Heare you this Triton of the Minnowes? Marke you
His absolute Shall?

Com. 'Twas from the Cannion.

Cor. Shall! O God! but most unwife Patricians: why
You graue, but wreaclleſe Senators, haue you thus
Gien Hidra heere to choose an Officer,
That with his peremptoryal shall, being but
The horne, and noise of th' Monſters, wants not ſpirit
To ſay, hee'l turne your Current in a ditch,
And make your Channell his? If he haue power,
Then vale your Ignorance: If none, awake

Your dangerous Lenity: If you are Learn'd,
Benot as common Fooles; if you are not,
Let them haue Cufhions by you. You are Plebeians,
If they be Senators: and they are no leſſe,
When both your voices blended, the great it taffe
Moft pallates theirs. They choofe their Magiſtrate,
And ſuch a one as he, who puts his Shali,
His popular Shali, against a grauer Bench
Then euer frown'd in Greece.' By Ioue himſelfe,

It makes the Conſuls bafe; and my Soule akes
To know, when two Authorities are vp,
Neither Supreame; How ſoone Conſufion
May enter 'twixt the gap of Both, and take
The one by th'other.

Com. Well, on to th' Market place.

Corio. Who euer gaue that Counſell, to gide forth
The Corne a'ch'Store-houſe gratis, as 'twas vs'd

Sometime in Greece.

Mene. Well, well, no more of that.

Cor. Thoſh there the people had more abſolute powre
I ſay they noriſht diſobedience: fed, the ruin of the State.

Bru. Why ſhall the people giue

One that ſpeakes thus, their voyce?

Corio. Ile giue my Reaſons,

More worthier then their Voyces. They know the Corne
Was not our recompence, reſting well aſſur'd
They ne're did ſeruice for't; being preſt to th' Warre,
Euen when the Nauell of the State was touch'd,
They would not thred the Gates: This kind of ſeruice
Did not deferue Corne gratis. Being 'th' Warre,
There Mutinies and Reuolts, wherein they ſhew'd
Moft Valour, ſpoke not for them. Th' Accuſation
Which they haue often made against the Senate,
All cauſe vnborne, could neuer be the Naſive

Of our ſo franke Donation. Well, what then?
How ſhall this Boſome-multiplied, diſeſt
The Senates Courteſie? Let deeds expreſſe
What's like to be their words, We did requeſt it,
We are the greater pole, and in true ſeare
They gaue vs our demands. Thus we deſaſe
The Nature of our Seats, and make the Rabble

Call our Cares, Feares; which will in time

Breake ope the Lockes a'ch'Senate, and bring in
The Crowes to pecke the Eagles.

Mene. Gaine enough,

Bri. Enough, with our current leaſure.

Corio. No, take more.

What may be worne by, both Divine and Humane,

Seale what I end withall. This double worſhip,

Whereon part do's diſdaine with cauſe, the other

Inſult without al[ernation: where Genery, Title, wifedom

Cannot conclude, but by the yes and no.

Of general Ignorance, it must omit

Reall Necessities, and giue way the while a Masse
To unſtall Slightneſſe. Purpofe so barr'd, it follows,
Nothing is done to purpose. Therefore beſeech you,
You that will be leſſe ſtearefull, then diſcreet,

That Ioue the Fundamentall part of State.

More then you doubt the change on't: That preſterre

A Noble life, before a Long, and Wifl,
To iumpe a Body with a dangerous Phyſick,

That's ſure of death without it: at once plucke out

The Multitudinous Tongue, let them not ſiirke

The ſweet which is their poyſon. Your diſhonor

Mangles true Iudgement, and bereaues the Scafe.

Of that Integrity which should becom't: -

Not having the power to do the good it would.

For 'till which doth controul't.

Bri. Has ſaid enough.

Sicin. Ha's ſpoken like a Traitor, and ſhall anſwer

As Traitors do.

Corio. Thou wretch, despight ore whom hee thee:

What should the people do with these bad Tribunes?

On whom depending, their obedieneſt failles

To th' greater Bench, in a Rebellions:

When what's not meer, but what must be, was law,

Then were they choſen : in a better hout.

Let what is meet, be faide it moſt be meet,

And throw their power i'th' duſt.

Bri. Manifeſt Tresfon.

Sicin. This a Conſull ? No.

Enter an Edile.

Bri. The Ediles hoe: Let him be apprehended.

Sicin. Go call the people, in whose name my ſelſe

Attach thee as a Traitorous Innouator:

A Foe to th' publike Weale. Obey I charge thee,

And follow to thine anſwer.

Corio. Hence old Goat.

All. Wee'l Surety him.

Com. Ag'd fir, hands off.

Corio. Hence rotten thing, or I ſhall ſake thy bones

Out of thy Garments.

Sicin, Helpe ye Citizens.

Enter a rabble of Plebeians with the Ediles.

Mene. On both sides more reſpect.

Sicin. Heere's hce, that would take from you all your
power.

Bri. Seize him Ediles,

All. Downe with him, downe with him.

2 Sen. Weapons, weapons, weapons:

They all buſſe about Coriolanus.

Tribunes, Patricians, Citizens: what ho?

Sicinius, Bratus, Coriolanus, Citizens.

All. Peace, peace, peace, peace, hold, peace.

Mene. What is about to be I am out of Breath,
Confusions neere, I cannot ſpeake. You, Tribunes

To'th' people: Coriolanus, patience: Speak good Sicinius.

Bb 2

Sicin.

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

16

Scici. Heare me, People peace.

All. Let's here our Tribune: peace, speake, speake, speake.

Scici. You are at point to lose your Liberties:
Martius would haue all from you; Martius,
Whom late you haue nam'd for Confull.

Mene. Fie, fie, fie, this is the way to kindle, not to quench.

Sena. To vnbuild the Citie, and to lay all flat.

Scici. What is the Citie, but the People?

All. True, the People are the Citie.

Brut. By the conſent of all, we were eſtablish'd the
Peoples Magiſtrates.

All. You ſo remaine.

Mene. And ſo are like to doe.

Com. That is the way to lay the Citie flat,
To bring the Rooſe to the Foundation,
And burie all, which yet diſtinſely rauges
In heapes, and piles of Ruine.

Scici. This deſerues Death.

Brut. Or let vs stand to our Authoritie,
Or let vs lose it: we doe here pronounce,
Vpon the part o'th' People, in whose power
We were elected theirs, Martius is worthy
Of preſent Death.

Scici. Therefore lay hold of him:
Beare him toth' Rock Tarpeian, and from thence
Into deſtruction caſt him.

Brut. Ædiles ſeize him.

All Ple. Yeeld Martius, yeeld.

Mene. Heare me one word, 'beſeech you Tribunes,
heare me but a word.

Ædiles. Peace, peace.

Mene. Be that you ſeeme, truly your Countries friend,
And temp'rately proceed to what you would
Thus violently redreſſe.

Brut. Sir, thate cold wayes,
That ſeeme like prudent helps, are very poyſonous,
Where the Difeaſe is violent. Lay hands vpon him,
And beare him to the Rock. Corio. drawes his Sword.

Corio. No, Ile die here:

There's ſome among you haue beheld me fighting,
Come trie vpon your ſelues, what you haue ſeene me.

Mene. Downe with that Sword, Tribunes withdraw
a while.

Brut. Lay hands vpon him.

Mene. Helpe Martius, helpe: you that be noble, helpe
him young and old.

All. Downe with him, downe with him. Exeunt.

In this Mutinie, the Tribunes, the Ædiles, and the
People are beat in.

Mene. Goe, get you to our House: be gone, away,
All will be naught else.

2. Sena. Get you gone.

Com. Stand faſt, we haue as many friends as enemies.

Mene. Shall it be put to that ?

Sena. The Gods forbid :

I prythee noble friend, home to thy House,
Leaue vs to cure this Cauſe.

Mene. For'tis a Sore vpon vs,

You cannot Tent your ſelfe: be gone, 'beſeech you.

Corio. Come Sir, along with vs.

Mene. I would they were Barbarians, as they are,
Though in Rome litter'd not Romans, as they are not,
Though calued i'th' Porch o'th' Capitoll :
Be gone, put not your worthy Rage into your Tongue,

One time will owe another.

Corio. On faire ground, I could beat fortie of them.

Mene. I could my ſelfe take vp a Brace o'th' beſt of
them, yea, the two Tribunes.

Com. But now 'tis oddes beyond Arithmetick,
And Manhood is call'd Foolerie, when it stands
Against a falling Fabrick. Will you hence,
Before the Tagge returne? whose Rage doth rend
Like interrupted Waters, and o're-beare
What they are vs'd to beare.

Mene. Pray you be gone:

Ile trie whether my old Wit be in requeſt
With thofe that haue but little: this must be patch
With Cloth of any Colour.

Com. Nay, come away.

Exeunt Coriolanus et
Cominius.

Patri. This man ha's marr'd his fortune.

Mene. His nature is too noble for the World:
He would not flatter Neptune for his Trident,
Or Ioue, for's power to Thunder: his Heart's his Mouth.
What his Breſt forges, that his Tongue muſt vent,
And being angry, does forget that euer.

He heard the Name of Death.

A No ſe within.

Here's goodly worke.

Patri. I would they were a bed.

Mene. I would they were in Tyber.

What the vengeance, could he not ſpeake 'em faire?
Enter Brutus and Sicinius with the rabble againe.

Sicin. Where is this Viper,

That would depopulate the city, &c be euery man himſelf
Mene. You worthy Tribunes.

Sicin. He ſhall be throwne downe the Tarpeian rock
With rigorous hands: he hath reſtled Law,
And therefore Law ſhall ſcorne him further Triall
Then the ſeuerity of the publike Power,
Which he ſo fetts at naught.

1 Cit. He ſhall well know the Noble Tribunes are
The peoples mouths, and we their hands.

All. He shall ſure ont.

Mene. Sir, Sir.

Sicin. Peace.

Me. Do not cry hauocke, where you ſhold but h
With modest warrant.

Sicin. Sir, how com'ſt that you haue holpe
To make this reſcue ?

Mene. Heere me ſpeake? As I do know
The Conſuls worthineſſe, ſo can I name his Faults.

Sicin. Conſull? what Conſull?

Mene. The Conſull Coriolanus.

Brn. He Conſull.

All. No, no, no, no, no.

Mane. If by the Tribunes leaue,

And yours good people,
I may be heard, I would craue a word ortwo,
The which ſhall turne you to no further harme,
Then ſo much loſſe of time.

Sic. Speake brieſely then,
For we are peremptory to diſpatch
This Viſiporous Traitor: to eieſt him hence
Were but one danger, and to keepe him here
Our certaine death: therefore it is decreed,
He dyes to night.

Menen. Now the good Gods forbid,
That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude
Towards her deſerued Children, is enroll'd
In Ioues owne Booke, like an vnnatural Dam
Should now eate vp her owne.

Sicin.

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

17

Stm. He's a Difeale that muft be cut away.
Mene. Oh he's a Limbe, that ha's but a Difeale
Mortall, to cure it off: to cure it, caſe.

What ha's he deneto Rome, that's worthy death?
Killing our Enemies, the blood he hath loft
(Which I dare vouch, is more then that he hath

By many an Ounce) he dropp'd it for his Country :
And what is left, to loose it by his Countrey,
Were to vs all that doo't, and suffer it

A brand to th'end a'th World.

Sicin. This is cleane kamme.

Brut. Meereely awry.

When he did loue his Country, it honour'd him.

Menen. The ſeruice of the ſoſte
Being once gangren'd, is not then reſpect'd

For what before it was.

Brut. Wee'l heare no more:

Parſue him to his house, and plucke him thence,

Leaſt his inſection being of catching nature,

Spred further.

Menen. One word more, one word:

This Tiger-footed-rage, when it ſhall find

The harme of vnſkan'd (switneſſe, will (too late)

Tye Leaden pounds too's heeles. Proceed by Proceſſe,

Leaſt parties (as he is beiou'd) breake out,

And ſacke great Rome with Romanes.

Brut. If it were ſo?

Sicin. What do ye talke?

Haue we not had a taſe of his Obedience?

Our Ediles ſmot: our ſelues reſiſted: come.

Mene. Conſider this: He ha's bin bred i'th'Warres

Since a could draw a Sword, and is ill-school'd

Inboulted Language: Meale and Bran together

He throwes without diſtinction. Giue me leaue,

lie go to him, and vndertake to bring him in peace,

Where he ſhall anſwer by a lawfull Forme

(in peace) to his vmoſt perill.

I.Sen. Noble Tribunes,

It is the humane way: the other course

Will proue to bloody: and the end of it,

Vnknowne to the Beginning.

Sic. Noble Menenius, be you then as the peoples officers:

Matters lay downe your Weapons.

Brut. Go not home.

Sic. Meet on the Market place; wee'l attend you there:
Where if you bring not Martius, wee'l proceede

In our ſuſt way.

Menen. Ile bring him to you.

Let me deſire your company: he muſt come,

Or what is workt will follow.

Sena. Pray you let's to him.

Exeunt Omnes.

Enter Coriolanus with Nobles.

Corio. Let them pull all about mine cares, preſent me
Death on the Wheele, or at wilde Horſes heeles,

Or pile ten hilles on the Tarpeian Rocke,

That the precipitation might downe ſtretch

Below the beame of ſlight; yet will I ſtill

Be thus to them.

Enter Volumina.

Noble. You do the Nobler,

Corio. I muſe my Mother

Do's not approue me further, who was want
To call them Wollen Vassailes, things created
To buy and ſell with Groats, to ſhow bare heads
In Congregations, to yawne, be ſtill, and wonder,
When one but of my ordinance ſood vp

To ſpeake of Peace, or Warre. I talke of you,
Why did you wifh me milder? Would you haue me
Falle to my Nature? Rather ſay, I play
The man I am.

Volum. Oh ſir, ſir, ſir,
I would haue had you put your power well on
Before you had worne it out.

Corio. Let go.

Vol. You might haue beene enough the man you are,
With ſtruing leſſe to be ſo: Leſſer had bin

The things of your diſpoſitions, if

You had not ſhew'd them how ye were diſpoſ'd

Ere they lack'd power to croſſe you.

Corio. Let them hang.

Volum. I, and burne too.

Enter Menenius with the Senators.

Men. Come, come, you haue bin too rough, ſomthiſhing
too rough: you muſt returne, and mend it.

Sen. There's no remedy,

Vnleſſe by no ſo doing, our good Citie

Cleau in the midd'ft, and perſh.

Volum. Pray be counſail'd;

I haue a heart as little apt as yours,

But yet a braine, that leades my vſe of Anger

To better vantage.

Mene. Well ſaid, Noble woman:

Before he ſhould thus ſtoope to th'heart, but that

The violent fit a'th' time craves it as Phyſicke

For the whole State; I would put mine Armour on,

Which I can ſcarſely beare.

Corio. What muſt I do?

Mene. Returne to th' Tribunes,

Corio. Well, what then? what then?

Mene. Repent, what you haue ſpoke.

Corio. For them, I cannot do it to the Gods,

Muſt I then doo't to them?

Volum. You are too absolute,

Though therein you can neuer be too Noble,

But when extremities ſpeake. I haue heard you ſay,

Honor and Policy, like vnſeuer'd Friends,

I'th'Warre do grow together: Grant that, and tell me

In Peace, what each of them by th'other loose,

That they combine not there?

Corio. Fuſh, fuſh.

Mene. A good demand.

Volum. If it be Honor in your Warres, to ſeeme

The fame you are not, which for your beſt ends

You adopt your policy: How is it leſſe or worſe

That it ſhall hold Companionſhip in Peace.

With Honour, as in Warre; ſince that to both

It ſtands in like requeſt.

Corio. Why ſorce you this?

Volum. Because, that

Now it lyes you on to ſpeake to th' people:

Not by your owne inſtruction, nor by th' matter

Which your heart prompts you, but with ſuch words

That are but roated in your Tongue;

Though but Baſtards, and Syllables

Of no allowance, to your boſomes truth.

Now, this no more diſhonors you at all,

Then to take in a Towne with gentle words,

Which eſſe would put you to your fortune, and

The hazard of much blood.

I would diſſemble with my Nature, where

My Fortunes and my Friends at ſtake, require'd

I should do ſo in Honor. I am in this

bb 3

Your

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

18

Your Wife, your Sonne: These Senators, the Nobles,
And you, will rather shew our generall Lowts,
How you can frowne, then spend a fawne vpon' em,
For the inheritance of their loues, and safegard
Of what that want might ruine.

Menen. Noble Lady,

Come goe with vs, speake faire: you may falue so,
Not what is dangerous preſent, but the loffe
Of what is paſt.

Volum. I prythee now, my Sonne,
Goe to them, with this Bonnet in thy hand,
And thus farre hauing fltrett it (here be with them)
Thy Knee buffing the ſtones: for in ſuch businesſe
Action is eloquence, and the eyes of th'ignorant
More learned then the cares, wauing thy head,
Which often thus correcting thy ſtout heart,
Now humble as the ripeſt Mulberry,
That will not hold the handling; or ſay to them,
Thou art their Souldier, and being bred in broyles,
Haſt not the ſoft way, which thou doſt confefſe
Were fit for thee to vſe, as they to clayme,
In asking their good loues, but thou wilt frame
Thy ſelfe (for ſooth) hereafter theirs ſo farre,
As thou haſt power and perſon.

Menen. This but done,

Euen as ſhe ſpeakes, why their hearts were yours :
For they haue Pardons, being ask'd, as free,
As words to little purpofe.

Volum. Prythee now,

Goe, and be rul'd: although I know thou hadſt rather
Follow thine Enemie in a fierie Gulſe,
Then flatter him in a Bower.

Enter Cominius.
Here is Cominius.

Com. I haue beene i'ch' Market place: and Sir 'tis fit
You make strong partie, or defend your ſelfe
By calmeneſſe, or by abſence: all's in anger.

Menen. Only faire ſpeech.

Com. I thinke 'twill ferue, if he can thereto frame his ſpirits.

Volum. He muſt, and will :

Prythee now ſay you will, and goe about it.

Corio. Maſt I goe ſhew them my vnbarb'd ſconce ?
Maſt I with my bafe Tongue giue to my Noble Heart
A Lye, that it muſt beare well ? I will doo't :
Yet were there but this ſingle Plot, to looke
This Mould of Martius, they to duſt should grinde it,
And throw't againſt the Winde. Toth' Market place:
You haue put me now to ſuch a part, which neuer
I ſhall diſcharge toth' Life.

Com. Come, come, wee'le prompt you.

Volum. I prythee now, ſweet Son, as thou haſt ſaid
My praiſes made thee firſt a Souldier ; so
To haue my praiſe for this, performe a part
Thou haſt not done before.

Corio. Well, I muſt doo't :

Away my diſpoſition, and poſſeſſe me
Some Harlots ſpirit: My throat of Warre be turn'd,
Which quier'd with my Drumme into a Pipe,
Small as an Eunuch, or the Virgin voyce
That Babies lull a ſleepe : The ſmiles of Knaues
Tent in my cheekes, and Schoole-boyes Teares take vp
The Glafles of my ſight: A Beggars Tongue
Make motion through my Lips, and my Arm'd knees
Who bow'd but in my Stirrop, bend like his
That hath recei'd an Almes. I will not doo't,
Leaſt I ſurceafe to honor mine owne truth,

And by my Bodies action, teach my Minde
A moſt inherent Bafeſſe.

Volum. At thy choice then :

To begge of thee, it is my more diſhonor,
Then thou of them. Come all to ruine, let
Thy Mother rather feele thy Pride, then ſcare
Thy dangerous Stoutneſſe : for I mocke at death
With as bigge heart as thou. Do as thou lift,
Thy Valiantneſſe was mine, thou ſuck't it from me :
But owe thy Pride thy ſelfe.

Corio. Pray be content :

Mother, I am going to the Market place:
Chide me no more. Ile Mountebanke their Loues,
Cogge their Hearts from them, and come home belou'd
Of all the Trades in Rome. Looke, I am going:
Commend me to my Wife, Ile returne Conſuſl,
Or neuer truſt to what my Tongue can do
I'ch way of Flattery further.

Volum. Do your will,

Exit Volum.

Com. Away, the Tribunes do attend you: arm your ſelf.
To anſwer mildely: for they are prepar'd
With Accuſations, as I heare more ſtrong
Then are vpon you yet.

Corio. The word is, Mildely. Pray you let vge,
Let them accuſe me by inuention : I
Will anſwer in mine Honor.

Menen. I, but mildly.

Corio. Well mildly be it then, Mildely.

Exenut.

Enter Sicinius and Brutus.

Bru. In this point charge him home, that he affeets
Tyrannicall power : If he euade vs there,
Inforce him with his enuy to the people,
And that the Spoile got on the Autiats
Was ne're diſtributed. What, will he come?

Enter an Edile.

Edile. Hee's comming.

Bru. How accompanied?

Edile. With old Menenius, and those Senators

That alwayse favour'd him.

Sicin. Haue you a Catalogue

Of all the Voices that we haue procur'd, ſer downe by
Edile. I haue: 'tis ready.

(Pole)

Sicin. Haue you collected them by Tribes?

Edile. I haue.

Sicin. Aſſemble preſently the people hicher:
And when they heare me ſay, it ſhall be ſo,
I'ch'right and ſtrength a'ch'Commons : be it either
For death, for fine, or Banifhment, then let them
If I ſay Fine, cry Fine ; if Death, cry Death,
Inſifting on the olde prerogatiue

And power i'ch' Truth a'ch' Cause.

Edile. I ſhall informe them.

Bru. And when ſuch time they haue begun to cry,
Let them not ceaſe, but with a dinne confus'd
Inforce the preſent Execution
Of what we chance to Sentence.

Edi. Very well.

Sicin. Make them be ſtrong, and ready for this hint
When we ſhall hap to giu't them.

Bru. Go about it,

Put him to Choller ſtraite, he hath bene vs'd
Euer to conquer, and to hane his worth
Of contradiction. Being once chaſt, he cannot
Be reu'n'd againe to Temperance, then he ſpeakes

What's

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

19

What's in his heart, and that is there which lookes
With vs to breake his necke.

*Enter Coriolanus, Menenius, and Coriolanus with others.*

*Sicin.* Well, heere he comes.

*Mene.* Calmely, I do beſeech you.

*Corio.* I, as an Hoftler, that fourth pooreſt peece
Will beare the Knaue by th' Volume :

Th'honor'd Goddes

*Keepe Rome in safety, and the Chaires of Iuſtice
Supplied with worthy men, plant loue amongs
Through our large Temples with ſkewes of peace
And not our freets with Warre.*

*I Sen. Amen, Amen.*

*Mene.* A Noble wifh.

*Enter the Edile with the Plebeians.*

*Sicin.* Draw neere ye people.

*Edile.* Lift to your Tribunes, Audience :

Peace I lay.

*Corio.* First heare me ſpeake.

*Both Trii.* Well, ſay : Peace hoe.

*Corio.* Shall I be charg'd no further then this preſent ?
Muſt all determine heere?

*Sicin.* I do demand,

If you submit you to the peoples voices,

Allow their Officers, and are content

To ſuffer lawfull Cenſure for ſuch ſaults

As ſhall be prou'n vpon you.

*Corio.* I am Content.

*Mene.* Lo Citizens, he ſayes he is Content.

The warlike ſeruice he ha's done, conſider : Thinke
Vpon the wounds his body beares, which ſhew
Like Graues i'th holy Church-yard.

*Corio.* Scratches with Briars, ſcarres to moue
Laughter only.

*Mene.* Conſider further :

That when he ſpeakes not like a Citizen,

You ſinde him like a Soldier : do not take

His rougher Actions for maliciousous ſounds :

But as I ſay, ſuch as become a Soldier,

Rather then enuy you.

*Com. Well, well, no more.*

*Corio.* What is the matter,

That being paſt for Conſull with full voyce :

I am ſo diſhonour'd, that the very houre

You take it off againe.

*Sicin.* Anſwer to vs.

*Corio.* Say then : 'tis true, I ought to

*Sicin.* We charge you, that you haue conſu'd to take
From Rome all ſeaſon'd Office, and to winde

Your ſelſe into a power tyrannicall,

For which you are a Traitor to the people.

*Corio.* How? Traytor?

*Mene.* Nay temperately : your promife.

*Corio.* The fires i'th'loweſt hell. Fould in the people :
Call me their Traitor, thou injurious Tribune.

Within thine eyes fate twenty thouſand deaths

In thy hands clutcht : as many Millions in
Thy lying tongue, both numbers. I would ſay
Thou lyeſt vnto thee, with a voice as free,

As I do pray the Gods.

*Sicin.* Marke you this people ?

*All.* To th'Rocke, to th'Rocke with him.

*Sicin.* Peace :

We neede not put new matter to his charge :

What you haue ſeene him do, and heard him ſpeake :

Beating your Officers, curſing your ſelues,

Oppofing Lawes with ſtoakes, and heere defying
Thoſe whole great power muſt try him.

Even this ſo criminall, and in ſuch capitall kinde
Deſerues th'extreameſt death.

*Bru.* But ſince he hath ſeru'd well for Rome.

*Corio.* What do you prate of ſeruice.

*Brut.* I talke of that, that know it.

*Corio.* You?

*Mene.* Is this the promife that you made your mother.

*Com.* Know, I pray you.

*Corio.* Ile know no further :

Let them pronounce the ſeepe Tarpeian death,
Vagabond exile, Fleaing, pent to linger
But with a graine a day, I would not buy
Their mercie, at the price of one faire word,
Not checke my Courage for what they can giue,
To haue't with ſaying, Good morrow.

*Sicin.* For that he ha's

(As much as in him lies) from time to time
Enu'd againſt the people; ſeeking means

To plucke away their power: as now at laſt,
Guen Hoftile flokes, and that not in the prefence
Of dreaded Iuſtice, but on the Minifers

That doth diſtribute it. In the name a'th'people,
And in the power of vs the Tribunes, wee

(Eu'n from this inſtant) baniſh him our Citie
In perill of precipitation

From off the Rocke Tarpeian, neuer more

To enter our Rome gates. I'th' Peoples name,
I ſay it ſhall bee ſo.

*All.* It ſhall be ſo, it ſhall be ſo: let him away :
Hee's baniſh'd, and it ſhall be ſo.

*Com.* Heare me my Maſters, and my common friends.

*Sicin.* He's ſentenc'd : No more hearing.

*Com.* Let me ſpeake :

I haue bene Conſull, and can ſhew from Rome

Her Enemies markes vpon me. I do loue

My Countries good, with a reſpect more tender,

More holy, and profound, then mine owne life,
My deere Wives eſtimate, her wombes encreafe,

And treasure of my Loynes: then if I would
Speake that.

*Sicin.* We know your drifts, Speake what ?

*Bru.* There's no more to be ſaid, but he is baniſh'd
As Enemy to the people, and his Countrie.

It ſhall bee ſo.

*All.* It ſhall be ſo, it ſhall be ſo.

*Corio.* You common cry of Curs, whosebre I hate,
As reekes a'th'rotten Fennes : whose Loues I prize,

As the dead Carkasses of vnburied men,

That do corrupt my Ayre : I baniſh you,

And heere remaine with your vncertaintie.

Let euery feeble Rumor ſhake your hearts :

Your Enemies, with nodding of their Plumes

Fan you into diſpaire: Haue the power ſtill

To baniſh your Defenders, till at length

Your ignorance (which findes not till it feeles,

Making but reſeruation of your ſelues,

Still your owne Foes) deliuer you

As moſt abated Capriues, to ſome Nation

That wonne you without blows, deſpising

For you the City. Thus I turne my backe;

There is a world elsewhere.

*Exeunt Coriolanus, Cominius, with Cumaſlys.*

*They all ſhowt, and throw vp their Caps.*

*Edile*

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

20

Edile. The peoples Enemy is gone, is gone.

All. Our enemy is banifh'd, he is gone: Hoo,oo.

Sicin. Go see him out at Gates, and follow him
As he hath follow'd you, with all despight
Gie him deferu'd vexation. Let a guard
Attend vs through the City.

All. Come, come, let's see him out at gates, come:
The Gods preferue our Noble Tribunes, come.
Excunt.

Actus Quartus.

Enter Coriolanus. Volumina, Virgilia, Menenius, Cominius,
with the yong Nobility of Rome.

Corio. Come leane your teares: a brief farwell: the beaſt
With many heads butts me away. Nay Mother,
Where is your ancient Courage? You were vs'd
To ſay. Extreamities was the trier of Spirits,
That common chances. Common men could beare,
That when the Sea was calme, all Boats alike
Shew'd Maſterſhip in floating. Fortunes blowes,
When moſt ſtrooke home, being gentle wounded, craues
A Noble cunning. You were vs'd to load me
With Precepts that would make inuincible
The heart that conu'd them.

Virg. Oh heauens! O heauens!

Corio. Nay, I prythe woman.

Vol. Now the Red Peſtilence ſtrike al Trades in Rome,
And Occupations perſiſh.

Corio. What, what, what :
I ſhall be lou'd when I am lack'd. Nay Mother,
Refume that Spirit, when you were wont to ſay,
If you had beene the Wife of Hercules,
Six of his Labours you'l haue done, and ſau'd
Your Husband ſo much ſwet. Cominius,
Droope not, Adieu: Farewell my Wife, my Mother,
Ile do well yet. Thou old and true Menonius,
Thy teares are ſalter then a yonger mans,
And venomous to thine eyes. My (sometime) General,
I haue feene the Sterne, and thou haſt oft beheld
Heart-hardning ſpectacles. Tell theſe ſad women,
'Tis ſond to waile ineuiſable ſtrokes,
As 'tis to laugh at 'em. My Mother, you wot well
My hazards ſtill haue beene your ſolace; and
Beleeu't not lightly, though I go alone
Like to a lonely Dragon, that his ſenne
Makes fear'd; and talk'd of more then ſeene : your Sonne
Will or exceed the Common, or be caught
With cautelous baits and practice.

Volum. My ſieſt ſonne,
Whether will thou go? Take good Cominius
With thee awhile: Determine on ſome courſe
More then a wilde exſposure, to each chance
That ſtart's i'ch' way before thee.

Corio. O the Gods!

Com. Ile follow thee a Moneth, deuife with thee
Where thou haſt reſt, that thou may't heare of vs,
And we of thee. So if the time thrust forth
A cauſe for thy Repeale, we haſt not ſend
O're the vaſt world, to ſeeke a ſingle man,
And louſe aduantage, which doth euer cooſe
Ith'ausence of the needer.

Corio. Fare ye well :
Thou haſt yeares upon thee, and thou art too ſull

Of the warres ſurſets, to goe rouse with one
That's yet vnbruſ'd: bring me but out at gate,
Come my ſweet wife, my deereſt Mother, and
My Friends of Noble touch: when I am forth,
Bid me farewell, and ſmile. I pray you come:
While I remaine about the ground, you ſhall
Heare from me ſtill, and neuer of me ought
But what is like me formerly.

Menen. That's worthily
As any eare can heare. Come, let's not weope,
If I could ſhake off but one ſeuen yeeres.
From theſe old armes and legges, by the good Gods
I'd with thee, euery foot.

Corio. Gie me thy hand, come.
Enter the two Tribunes, Sicinius, and Bruttus,
with the Edile.

Sicin. Bid them all home, he's gone: & weel no further
The Nobility are vexed, whom we ſee haue ſided
In his behalfe.

Brut. Now we haue ſhewne our power,
Let vs ſeeme humbler after it is done,
Then when it was a dooing.

Sicin. Bid them home: ſay their great enemy is gone,
And they, ſtand in their ancient ſtrength.

Brut. Difmiſſe them home. Here comes his Mother.
Enter Volumina, Virgilia, and Menonius.

Sicin. Let's not meet her.

Brut. Why?

Sicin. They ſay ſhe's mad.

Brut. They haue tane note of vs: keepe on your way.

Volum. Oh y'are well met :

Th'hoorded plague a'ch'Gods requit your loue.

Menen. Peace, peace, be not so loud.

Volum. If that I could for weeping, you should heare,
Nay, and you shall heare ſome. Will you be gone?

Virg. You ſhall ſtay too: I would I had the power
To ſay ſo to my Husband.

Sicin. Are you mankinde ?

Volum. I foole, is that a ſhame. Note but this Foole,
Was not a man my Father? Had'ſt thou Foxſhip
To baniſh him that ſtrooke more blowes for Rome
Then thou haſt ſpoken words.

Sicin. Oh bleſſed Heauens!

Volum. Moe Noble blowes, then euer ſy wife words.
And for Romes good. Ile tell thee what : yet goe:
Nay but thou ſhalt ſtay too: I would my Sonne
Were in Arabia, and thy Tribe before him,
His good Sword in his hand.

Sicin. What then?

Virg. What then? Hee'ld make an end of thy poſſibility.
Volum. Baſtards, and all.

Good man, the Wounds that he does beare for Rome !

Menen. Come, come, peace.

Sicin. I would he had continued to his Country
As he began, and not vnknit himſelfe
The Noble knot he made.

Bru. I would he had.

Volum. I would he had ? Twas you incanaſt the table,
Cats, that can iudge as ſicly of his worth,
As I can of thate Mysteries which heauen
Will not haue earth to know.

Brut. Pray let's go.

Volum. Now pray fir get you gone.

You haue done a braue deede: Ere you go, heare this:
As farre as doth the Capitoll exceede
The meaneſt house in Rome; ſo farre my Sonne
This

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

21

This Ladies Husband here ; this ( do you fee) Whom you haue banifh'd, does exceed you all.

Bru. Well, well, weel leaue you,

Sicin. Why flay we to be baited

With one that wants her Wits.

Exit Tribunes.

Volum. Take my Prayers with you.

I would the Gods had nothing else to do,

But to confirme my Curiſes. Could I meete 'em

But once a day, it would vnblogge my heart Of what lyes heavy too't.

Mene. You have told them home,

And by my troth you haue caufe : you'l Sup with me.

Volum. Angers my Meate : I ſuppe vpon my ſelſe,

And ſo ſhall ſterue with Feeding : Come, let's go,

Leaue this faint-puling, and lament as I do,

In Anger, Iuno-like : Come, come, come.

Exeunt

Mene. Fie, fie, fie.

Exit.

Enter a Roman, and a Volce.

Rom. I know you well fir, and you know mee : your name I thinke is Adrian.

Volce. It is ſo fir, truly I haue forgot you.

Rom. I am a Roman, and my ſeruices are as you are, against't. Know you me yet.

Volce. Nicanor: no,

Rom. The fame fir.

Volce. You had more Beard when I laſt ſaw you, but your Fauour is well appear'd by your Tongue. What's the Newes in Rome : I haue a Note from the Volcean ſtate to finde you out there. You haue well ſaued mee a dayes iournie.

Rom. There hath beene in Rome ſtraunge Inſurreſi ons: The people, against the Senatours, Patricians, and Nobles.

Vol. Hauing bin; is it ended then? Our State thinks not ſo, they are in a moſt warlike preparation, & hope to com vpon them, in the heate of their diuision

Rom. The maine blaze of it is paſt, but a ſmall thing would make it flame againe. For the Nobles receyue ſo to heart, the Banifhment of that worthy Coriolanus, that they are in a ripe aptneſſe, to take al power from the people, and to plucke from them their Tribunes for euer. This lyes glowing I can tell you, and is almoſt mature for the violent breaking out.

Vol. Coriolanus Banifht?

Rom. Banifh'd fir.

Vol. You will be welcome with this intelligence Ni-
canor.

Rom. The day ſerues well for them now. I haue heard it faide, the fitſe time to corrupt a mans Wife, is when ſeele's falne out with her Husband. Your Noble Tullus Aſſiduis well appeare well in theſe Warres, his great Oppofer Coriolanus being now in no requeſt of his country.

Volce. He cannot choofe : I am moſt fortunate, thus accidentally to encounter you. You haue ended my Buſineſſe, and I will merrily accompany you home.

Rom. I ſhall betweene this and Supper, tell you moſt
ſtrange things from Rome : all tending to the good of
their Aduerfaries. Haue you an Army ready ſay you ?

Vol. A moſt Royall one: The Centurions, and their charges diſtinctly billetted already in th'entertainment, and to be on foot at an houres warning.

Rom. I am ioyfull to heare of their readineſſe, and am the man I thinke, that ſhall ſet them in preſent Action. So ſir, heartily well met, and moſt glad of your Company.

Volce. You take my part from me fir, I haue the moſt

caufe to be glad of yours.

Rom. Well, let vs go together.

Exeunt.

Enter Coriolanus in meane Apparrell, Diſ-
guſ'd, and mufſed.

Corio. A goodly City is this Antium. City,

'Tis I that made thy Widdowes : Maoy an heyre

Of theſe faire Edifices ſore my Warres

Hae I heard groane, and drop : Then know me not,

Leaſt that thy Wiues with Spits, and Boyes with ſlones

In puny Battell flay me. Saue you fir.

Enter a Citizen.

Cit. And you.

Corio. Direct me, if it be your will, where great Auf-
fidius lies : Is he in Antium?

Cit. He is, and Feaſts the Nobles of the State, at his
house this night.

Corio. Which is his houſe, beſeech you?

Cit. This heere before you.

Corio. Thanke you fir, farewell.

Exit Citizen

Oh World, thy flippery turnes ! Friends now faſt (worn,

Whofe double boſomes ſeemes to weare one heart,

Whofe Houres, whoſe Bed, whoſe Meale and Exerciſe

Are ſill together: who Twin (as 'twere) in Loue,

Vnſeparable, ſhall within this houſe,

On a diſſention of a Doit, breake out

To bittereſt Enmity: So ſelleſt Foes,

Whofe Paffions, and whoſe Plots haue broke their ſleep

To take the one the other, by ſome chance,

Some tricke not worth an Egge, ſhall grow deere friends

And inter-joyne their yſlues. So with me,

My Birth-place haue I, and my loues vpon

This Enemie Towne : Ile enter, if he flay me

He does faire Juſtice : if he giue me way,

Ile do his Country ſeruice.

Exit.

Muſicke playes. Enter a Servingman.

1 Ser. Wine, Wine, Wine: What ſeruice is heere ? I thinke our Fellowes are aſſleepe.

Enter another Servingman.

2 Ser. Where's Cotus: my M. calls for him: Cotus. Exit

Enter Coriolanus.

Corio. A goodly Housе:

The Feaſt ſmels well : but I appeare not like a Gueſt.

Enter the firſt Servingman.

1 Ser. What would you haue Friend? whence are you?
Here's no place for you : Pray go to the doore? Exit

Corio. I haue deſeru'd no better entertainment, in be-
ing Coriolanus.

Enter ſecond Servant.

2 Ser. Whence are you fir? Ha's the Porter his eyes in his head, that he giues entrance to ſuch Companions? Pray get you out.

Corio. Awaſy.

2 Ser. Awaſy? Get you away.

Corio. Now th'art troubleſome.

2 Ser. Are you ſo braue: Ile haue you talkt with anon

Enter 3 Servingman, the 1 meets him.

3 What Fellowes this?

1 A ſtrange one as euer I look'd on: I cannot get him out o'th'houſe : Prythee call my Maſter to him.

3 What haue you to do here fellow? Pray you auoid the houſe.

Corio. Let me but ſtand, I will not hurt your Harth.

3 What are you?

Corio. A Gentleman.

3 A maruſlous poore one.

Corio. True, so I am.

3 Pray you poore Gentleman, take vp ſome other ſta-
ition,

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

tion: Here's no place for you, pray you avoid: Come.

Corio. Follow your Function, go, and batten on colde bits.

Pushes him away from him.

3 What you will not? Pay thee tell my Maister what a strange Guest he has here.

2 And I shall.

3 Where dwell't thou?

Corio. Under the Canopy.

3 Under the Canopy?

Corio. I.

3 Where's that?

Corio. I' th City of Kites and Crowes.

3 I' th City of Kites and Crowes? What an Affe it is, then thou dwel't with Dawes too?

Corio. No, I ferue not thy Mafter.

3 How fir? Do you meddle with my Mafter?

Corio. I, tis an honefer ſeuice, then to meddle with thy Miftris: Thou prat'ft, and prat'ſt, ſerue with thy trenche: Hence. Beats him away

Enter Auffidius with the Servicingman.

Auf. Where is this Fellow?

2 Here him, I de haue beaten him like a dogge, but for disturbing the Lords within.

Auf. Whence com'ſt thou? What wold it? Thy name? Why ſpeak it not? ſpeake man: What's thy name?

Corio. If Tullies not yet thou know'ſt me, and feeing me, doſt not thinke me for the man I am, neceſſitie commands me name my ſelfe.

Auf. What is thy name?

Corio. A name vnmusicall to the Volcians cares, And harſh in found to thine.

Auf. Say, what's thy name?

Thou haſt a Grim appearance, and thy Face
Beates a Command in't: Though thy Tackles torme,
Thou ſhew't a Noble Věſſell: What's thy name?

Corio. Prepare thy brow to frowne: know'ſt it yet?

Auf. I know thee not? Thy Name?

Corio. My name is Cains Martius, who hath done
To thee particularly, and to all the Volces

Great hurt and Mifchieſe: thereto wittneſſe may
My Surname Coriolanus. The painfull ſeuice,
The extreme Dangers, and the droppes of Blood

Shed for my thankleſſe Country, are requitted:
But with that Surname, a good memorie

And wittneſſe of the Malice and Displeaſure
Which thou should'ſt beare me, only that name remains.

The Cruelty and Enuy of the people,
Permitted by our daſtard Nobles, who

Hae all forſooke me, hath deuour'd the reſt:

And ſuffer'd me by th'voyce of Slaues to be,

Hoop'd out of Rome. Now this extremity,

Hath brought me to thy Harth, not out of Hope
(Miſtake me not) to faue my life: for if

I had fear'd death, of all the Men i' th' World

I would haue voided thee. But in meere ſpight

To be full quit of thofe my Banifhers,

Stand I before thee here: Then if thou haſt
A heart of wreaſe in thee, that wilt reuenge

Thine owne particular wrongs, and ſtop thofe maimes
Of thame ſeene through thy Country, ſpeed thee straight

And make my miſery ſerue thy turne: So veſt it,
That my reuengefull ſeruices may proue

As Benefits to thee. For I will fight

Against my Cauckred Countrie, with the Spleene
Of all the vnder Fiends. But if so be,

Thou dar'ſt not this, and that to proue more Fortunes

Th'art tyr'd, then in a word, I also am.

Longer to liue moſt weare: and prefent

My throat to thee, and to thy Ancient Malice.

Which not to cur, would ſhew thee but a Foole,
Since I haue euer followed thee with hate,
Drawne Tunnes of Blood out of thy Countries breake,
And cannot liue but to thy ſhame, vncleane

It be to do theſe ſeuice.

Auf. Oh Martius, Martius;

Each word thou haſt Ipoke, hath weeded from my heart.
A roote of Ancient Enuy. If Iupiter.

Should from yond clowd ſpeake diuine things,
And ſay't is true; I'd not beleeue them more

Then thee all-Noble Martius. Let me twine

Mine armes about that body, where againſt

My grained Aſh an hundred times hath broke,

And ſcar'd the Moone with Splinters: heere I deep
The Anuile of my Sword, and do conted

As hotly, and as Nobly with thy Loue,

As euer in Ambitious ſtrength, I did

Contend againſt thy Valour. Know thou firſt,

I lou'd the Maid I married: neuer man

Sigh'd truer breath. But that I ſee thee here

Thou Noble thing, more dances my rapt heart,

Then when I firſt my wedded Miftris law
Beftride my Whyth. Why, thou Mars I tell thee,

We haue a Power on foote: and I had purpofe

Once more to hew thy Target from thy Brawne,

Or loofe mine Arme for't: Thou haſt beate mee out

Twelue ſeuerall times, and I haue nightly ſince

Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thy ſelfe and me:

We haue beene downe together in my ſleepe,
Vnbuckling Helmes, fitting each others Throat,

And wak'd halſe dead with nothing. Wordy Martius,

Had we no other quarrell else to Rome, but that

Thou art thence Banifh'd, we would muſter all

From twelue, to ſeuentie: and powring Warre

Into the bowels of vngrateſull Rome,

Like a bold Flood o're-beate. Oh come, go in,

And take our Friendly Senators by't hands

Who now are here, taking their leaues of me,

Who am prepar'd againſt your Territories,

Though not for Rome it ſelfe.

Corio. You bleſſe me Gods.

Auf. Therefore moſt abſolute Sir, if thou wilt haue
The leading of thine owne Reuenges, take

Th'one halſe of my Commiffion, and let downe

As beſt thou art experienc'd, ſince thou know'ſt

Thy Countries ſtrength and weakneſſe, thine own wales

Whether to knocke againſt the Gates of Rome,

Or rudely visit them in parts remote;

To fight them, ere deſtroy. But come in,

Let me commend thee firſt, to thofe that shall

Say yea to thy deſires. A thousand welcomes,

And more a Friend, then ere an Enemie,

Yet Martius that was much. Your hand: moſt welcome.

Exeunt

Enter two of the Servicingmen.

1 Heere's a ſtrange alteration?

2 By my hand, I had thought to haue ſroken him with
a Cudgell, and yet my minde gaue me, his cloathes made
a halſe report of him.

1 What an Arme he has, he turn'd me about with his
finger and his thumb, as one would ſet vp a Top.

2 Nay, I knew by his face that there was ſome-thing
in him. He had fir, a kind of ſace thought, I cannot

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

23

tell how to tearme it.

1 He had so, looking as it were, would I were hang'd
but I thought there was more in him, then I could think.

2 So did I, Ile befwore: Heis simply the rarest man
i'th'world.

1 I thinke he is: but a greater soldier then he,
You wot one.

2 Who my Master ?

1 Nay, it's no matter for that.

2 Worth fix on him.

1 Nay not so neither: but I take him to be the greater
Souldiour.

2 Faith looke you, one cannot tell how to say that: for
the Defence of a Towne, our Generall is excellent.

1 I, and for an ault too.

Enter the third Servicingan.

3 Oh Slaues, I can tell you Newes, News you Rafcals
Both. What, what, what? Let's partake.

3 I would not be a Roman of all Nations; I had as
lie a condemn'd man.

Both. Wherefore? Wherefore?

3 Why here's he that was wont to thwacke our Ge-
nerall, Caius Martinus.

1 Why do you say, thwacke our Generall?

1 I do not lay thwacke our Generall, but he was al-
wayes good enough for him.

2 Come we are fellowes and friends: he was euer too
hard for him, I haue heard him say so himselfe.

1 He was too hard for him directly, to say the Troth
on't before Coriolous, he scotcht him, and notcht him like a
Carbinado.

2 And hee had bin Cannibally giuen, hee might haue
boyl and eaten him too.

1 But more of thy Newes.

3 Why he is so made on heere within, as if hee were
Son and Heire to Mars, set at vpper end o'th'Table: No
quention askt him by any of the Senators, but they stand
bald before him. Our Generall himselfe makes a Miftis
of him, Sanctifies himselfe with his hand, and turnes vp the
white o'th'eye to his Difcourse. But the bottome of the
Newes is, our Generall is cut i'th'middle, & but on. half
of what he was yefterday. For the other ha's halfe, by
the intreaty and graunt of the whole Table. Hee'll go he
fayes, and fole the Porter of Rome Gates by th'eares. He
will mowe all downe before him, and leaue his paflage
pould.

2 And he's as like to do't, as any man I can imagine.

3 Doo't? he will doo't: for look you fir, he has as ma-
ny Friends as Enemies: which Friends fir as it were, duft
not (looke you fir) shew themfues (as we terme it) his
Friends, whileft he's in Direttitude.

1 Direttitude? What's that ?

3 But when they shall fee fir, his Creft vp againe, and
the man in blood, they will out of their Burroughes (like
Conies after Raine) and reuell all with him.

1 But when goes this forward?

3 To morrow, to day, prefently, you shall haue the
Drum frooke vp this afternoone: 'Tis as it were a parcel
of their Feaft, and to be executed ere they wipe their lips.

2 Why then wee shall haue a flitting World againe:
This peace is nothing, but to ruff Iron, encreafe Taylors,
and breed Ballad-makers.

1 Let me haue Warre say I, it exceeds peace as farre
as day do's night: It's fpeedly walking, audible, and full
of Vent. Peace, is a very Apoplexy, Lethargie, mull'd,
deafe, fleepe, infenfible, a getter of more baftard Chil-

dren, then warres a destroyer of men.

2 'Tis so, and as warres in fome fort may be faide to
be a Raufisher, so it cannot be denied, but peace is a great
maker of Cuckolds.

1 I, and it makes men hate one another.

3 Reafon, becaufe they then leſſe neede one another :
The Warres for my money. I hope to fee Romanes as
cheape as Volcians. They are riling, they are riling.

Both. In, in, in, in.

Exeunt

Enter the two Tribunes, Sicinius, and Brustus.

Sicin. We heare not of him, neither need we fear him,
His remedies are tanie, the prefent peace,
And quietneſſe of the people, which before
Were in wilde hurry. Heere do we make his Friends
Biſh, that the world goes well: who rather had,
Though they themſelues did ſuffer by't, behold
Diſſerious numbers peſtring streets, then fee
Our Trademen ſinging in their shops, and going
About their Functions friendly.

Enter Menenius.

Bra. We food too't in good time. Is this Menenius?

Sicin. 'Tis he, 'tis he: O he is grown moſt kind of late:
Haile Sir. Mene. Haile to you both.

Sicin. Your Coriolanus is not much mift, but with his
Friends: the Commonwealth doth ſtand, and so would
do, were he more angry at it.

Mene. All's well, and might haue bene much better,
if he could haue temporiz'd.

Sicin. Where is he, heare you?

Mene. Nay I heare nothing:

His Mother and his wife, heare nothing from him.

Enter three or fourne Citizens.

All. The Gods preferue you both.

Sicin. Gooden our Neighbours.

Bra. Gooden to you all, gooden to you all.

1 Our ſelues, our wiues, and children, on our knees,
Are bound to pray for you both.

Sicin. Liue, and thriue.

Bra. Farewell kinde Neighbours:

We wiſht Coriolanus had lou'd you as we did.

All. Now the Gods keepe you.

Both Tri. Farewell, farewell.

Exeunt Citizens

Sicin. This is a happier and more comely time,
Then when these Fellowes ran about the streets,
Crying Confusion.

Bra. Caius Martinus was

A worthy Officer i'th'Warre, but Inſolent,
O'recome with Pride, Ambitious, paſt all thinking
Seliſe-louing.

Sicin. And affecting one ſole THRONE, without affiſtace

Mene. I thinke not so.

Sicin. We should by this, to all our Lamentation,
If he had gone forth Conſull, found it so.

Bra. The Gods haue well prevented it, and Rome
Sits ſafe and ſtill, without him.

Enter an Ædile.

Ædile. Worthy Tribunes,

There is a Slaue whom we haue put in pyifon,
Reports the Volces with two ſeuerall Powers
Are entred in the Roman Territories,
And with the deepeſt malice of the Warre,
Deftroy, what lies before'em.

Mene. 'Tis Auffidus,

Who hearing of our Martius Banifhment,
Thrifts forth his hornes againe into the world

Which were Inſhell'd, when Martius ſood for Rome,

And

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

24

And durst not once peep out.

Sicin. Come, what take you of *Martius*.

Bru. Go see this Rumorer whipt, it cannot be,
The Volces dare breake with vs.

Mene. Cannot be?

We haue Record, that very well it can,
And three examples of the like, hath beene
Within my Age. But reason with the fellow
Before you punиш him, where he heard this,
Leaft you shall chance to whip your Information,
And beate the Messenger, who bids beware
Of what is to be dreaded.

Sicin. Tell not me: I know this cannot be.

Bru. Not possible.

Enter a Messenger.

Mef. The Nobles in great earneſtneſſe are going
All to the Senate-houſe: ſome newes is comming
That turnes their Countenances.

Sicin. 'Tis this Slaue:
Go whip him fore the peoples eyes: His raſing,
Nothing but his report.

Mef. Yes worthy Sir,

The Slaues report is ſeconded, and more
More fearfull is deliuer'd.

Sicin. What more fearefull?

Mef. It is ſpoke freely out of many mouths,
How probable I do not know, that *Martius*
Ioyn'd with *Auffidius*, leads a power 'gainſt Rome,
And vowes Reuenge as ſpacious, as betweene
They Yong'ft and oldeſt thing.

Sicin. This is moſt likely.

Bru. Rais'd onely, that the weaker ſort may with
Good *Martius* home againe.

Sicin. The very tricke on't.

Mene. This is vnlikely,

He, and *Auffidius* can no more attone
Then violent'ſt Contrariety.

Enter a Messenger.

Mef. You are ſent for to the Senate:
A fearefull Army, led by *Caius Martius*,
Affociated with *Auffidius*, Rages
Vpon our Territories, and haue already
O're-borne their way, ſonſum'd with ſire, and tooke
What lay before them.

Enter Cominius.

Com. Oh you haue made good worke.

Mene. What newes? What newes?

Com. You haue holp to rauiſh your owne daughters, &
To melt the Citty Leades vpon your pates,
To fee your Wives diſhonour'd to your Noſes.

Mene. What's the newes? What's the newes?

Com. Your Temples burned in their Ciment, and
Your Banſchifes, whereon you ſtood, ſein'd
Into an Augors boare.

Mene. Pray now, your Newes:

You haue made faire worke I feare me: pray your newes,
If *Martius* should be ioyn'd with Volccans.

Com. If? He is their God, he leads them like a thing
Made by ſome other Deity then Nature,
That ſhapes man Better: and they follow him
Againſt vs Brats, with no leſſe Confidence,
Then Boyes purſuing Summer Butter-flies,
Or Butchers killing Flyes.

Mene. You haue made good worke,

You and your Apron men: you, that ſtood ſo much
Vpon the voyce of occupation, and

The breath of Garlicke-eaters.

Com. Heel' ſhake your Rome about your cares.

Mene. As *Hercules* did ſhake downe Mellow Fruites,
You haue made faire worke.

Brut. But is this true fir?

Com. I, and you'l looke pale
Before you find it other. All the Regions
Do ſmilingly Reuolt, and who reſiſts

Are mock'd for valiant Ignorance,

And perſih conſtant Fools: who is't can blame him?
Your Enemies and his, ſinde ſomething in him.

Mene. We are all vndone, vnleſſe

The Noble man haue mercy.

Com. Who shall aske it?

The Tribunes cannot doo't for ſhame; the people
Deſerue ſuch pity of him, as the Wolfe
Doe's of the Shepheards: For his beſt Friends, if they
Should ſay be good to Rome, they charg'd him, euen
As thoſe should do that had deſer'd his hate,
And therein ſhew'd like Enemies.

Me. 'Tis true, if he were putting to my houſe, the brand
That should ſonſume it, I haue not the face
To ſay, beſeech you ceaſe. You haue made faire hands,
You and your Crafte, you haue crafted faire.

Com. You haue brought

A Trembling vpon Rome, ſuch as was neuer
S'incapable of helpe.

Tri. Say not, we brought it.

Mene. How? Was't we? We lou'd him,
But like Beaſts, and Cowardly Nobles,
Gauſe way vnto your Cluſters, who did hoore
Him out o'th'Citty.

Com. But I ſeare

They'l roare him in againe. *Tullus Auffidius*,
The ſecond name of men, obeyes his points
As if he were his Officer: Deſparation,
Is all the Policy, Strength, and Defence
That we make against them.

Enter a Trope of Citizens.

Mene. Heere come the Cluſters.

And is *Auffidius* with him? You are they
That made the Ayre vnwholſome, when you caſt

Your ſtinking, greaſe Caps, in hooting
At *Coriolanus* Exile. Now he's comming,

And not a haire vpon a Souldiers head
Which will not proue a whip: As many Coxcombe
As you threw Caps vp, will he tumble downe,
And pay you for your voyces. 'Tis no matter,
If he could burne vs all into one coale,
We haue deſer'd it.

Omnes. Faith, we heare fearfull Newes.

1 Cit. For mine owne part,

When I faid baniſh him, I faid 'twas pitty.

2 And ſo did I.

3 And ſo did I: and to lay the truth, ſo did very many of vs, that we did we did for the beſt, and though we were willingly conſented to his Baniſhment, yet it was against our will.

Com. Yare goodly things, you Voyces.

You and your cry. Sha'l's to the Capitoll?

Com. Oh I, what elfe?

Sicin. Go Maſters get you home, be not diſmaſd,
These are a Side, that would be glad to haue
This true, which they ſo ſeeme to ſeare. Go home,

This true, which they ſo ſeeme to ſeare. Go home,
And ſhew no ſigne of Feare.

1. Cit.

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

25

1 Cit. The Gods bee good to vs: Come Masters let's home, I'euer said we were i'th' wrong, when we banifh'd him.

2 Cit. So did we all. But come, let's home. Exit Cit.

Bri. I do not like this Newes.

Sicin. Nor I.

Bra. Let's to the Capitoll: would half me my wealth Would buy this for a lye.

Sicin. Pray let's go.

Exeunt Tribunes.

Enter Auffidissms with his Lieutenant.

Auf. Do they still flye to'th' Roman ?

Lieu. I do not know what Witchcraft's in him : but Your Soldiers vse him as the Grace 'fore meate, Their talke at Table, and their Thankes at end, And you are darkned in this action Sir, Euen by your owne.

Auf. I cannot helpe it now, Vnleffe by ving meanes I hame the foote Of our defigne. He beares himselve more proudlier, Euen to my perfon, then I thought he would When first I did embrace him. Yet his Nature In that's no Changeling, and I muft excufe What cannot be amended.

Lieu. Yet I will Sir,

(I meane for your particular) you had not Joyn'd in Commission with him : but either haue borne The action of your selfe, or else to him, had left it foly.

Auf. I vnderstand thee well, and be thou fure When he shall come to his account, he knowes not What I can vge againft him, although it feemes And fo he thinkes, and is no leffe apparant To th'vulgar eye, that he beares all things fairly : And theyes good Husbandry for the Volcan State, Fights Dragon-like, and does atcheeue as foone As draw his Sword : yet he hath left vndone That which fhall breake his necke, or hazard mine, When ere we come to our account.

Lieu. Sir, I befeech you, think you he'l carry Roin?

Auf. All places yeelds to him ere he fits downe, And the Nobility of Rome are his :

The Senators and Patricians loue him too: The Tribunes are no Soldiers : and their people Will be as rafh in the repeale, as hafty To expell him thence. I thinke hee'l be to Rome As the Aspray to the Fift, who takes it By Soueraignty of Nature. First, he was A Noble feruant to them, but he could not Carry his Honors euen : whether 'was Pride Which out of dayly Fortune euer taints The happy man ; whether deteft of iudgement, To faile in the diſpoſing of those chances Which he was Lord of : or whether Nature, Not to be other then one thing, not moouing From th'Caske to th'Caſhion : but commanding peace Euen with the fame auflerity and garbe, As he controll'd the warre. But one of ſhewe (As he hath ſpices of them all) not all, For I dare so farre free him, made him fear'd, So hated, and so banifh'd: but he ha's a Merit To choake it in the vt'trance : So our Vertue, Lie in th'interpretation of the time, And power vnto hims elfe most commendable, Hath not a Tombe ſo euident as a Chaire Textoll what it hath done.

One fire drives out one fire; one Naile, one Naile; Rights by rights fouler, strengths by strengths do faile.

Come let's away: when Caines Rome is thine, Thou art poor'ft of all; then shortly art thou mine. exeunt.

Actus Quintus.

Enter Menenius, Coriolanus, Sicinus, Brutus, the two Tribunes with others.

Menen. No, Ile not go: you heare what he hath faid Which was fometime his Generall : who loued him In a moſt deere particular. He call'd me Father : But what o'that ? Go you that banifh'd him A Mile before his Tent, fall downe, and knee The way into his mercy : Nay, if he coy'd To heare Cominibus ſpeake, Ile keepe at home.

Com. He would not ſeeme to know me.

Menen. Do you heare?

Com. Yet one time he did call me by my name : I vrg'd our old acquaintance, and the drops That we haue bled together. Coriolanus He would not anſwer too: Forbad all Names, He was a kinde of Nothing, Titleleſſe, Till he had forg'd himſelfe a name a'th'fire Of burning Rome.

Menen. Why fo: you haue made good worke: A paire of Tribunes, that haue wrack'd for Rome, To make Coales cheape: A Noble memory.

Com. I minded him, how Royall 'twas to pardon When it was leſſe expected. He replyed It was a bare petition of a State To one whom they had punifh'd.

Menen. Very well, could he ſay leſſe.

Com. I offered to awaken his regard For's priuate Friends. His anſwer to me was He could not ſtay to picke them, in a pile Of noy ſome muſtly Chaffe. He faid, 'twas folly For one poore graine or two, to leaue vnburnt And fill to noife th'offence.

Menen. For one poore graine or two ?
I am one of thofe : his Mother, Wife, his Childe,
And this braue Fellow too : we are the Graines,
You are the muſt Chaffe, and you are ſmelt
Aboue the Moone. We muſt be burnt for you.

Sicin. Nay,pray be patient: If you refufe your ayde In this ſo neuer-needed helpe, yet do not Vpbraid's with our diſtreſſe. But ſure if you Would be your Countries Pleader, your good tongue More then the inſtant Armie we can make Might ſtop our Countryman.

Mene. No: Ile not meddle.

Sicin. Pray you go to him.

Mene. What should I do ?

Bru. Onely make triall what your Loue can do,
For Rome, towards Martius.

Mene. Well, and ſay that Martius returne mee,
As Cominibus is return'd, vnheard: what then ?
But as a diſcontented Friend, greeſe ſhot
With his vnkindneſſe. Say't be so ?

Sicin. Yet your good will
Muſt haue that thanks from Rome, after the meaſure
As you intended well.

Mene. Ile vndertak't :

I thinke hee'l heare me. Yet to bite his lip,

And humme at good Cominibus, much vnhearts mee.

cc

Hee

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

26

He was not taken well, he had not din'd,
The Veines vnfill'd, our blood is cold, and then
We powt vpon the Morning, are vnapt
To giue or to forgiue; but when we haue flufft
Thefe Pipes, and thefe Conueyances of our blood
With Wine and Feeding, we haue fuppler Soules
Then in our Prieft-like Fafts: therefore Ile watch him
Till he be dieted to my requeft,
And then Ile fet vpon him.

Bri. You know the very rode into his kindneſſe,
And cannot lose your way.

Mene. Good faith Ile proue him,
Speed how it will. I shall ere long, haue kno wledge
Of my ſuccesse.

Exit.

Com. Heel neuer heare him.

Sicin. Not.

Com. I tell you, he doe's fit in Gold, his eye
Red as 'twould burne Rome: and his Inury
The Gaoler to his pitty. I kneel'd before him,
'Twas very faintly he faid Rife: difmift me
Thus with his speechleſſe hand. What he would do
He ſent in writing after me: what he would not,
Bound with an Oath to yeeld to his conditions:
So that all hope is vaine, vnleſſe his Noble Mother,
And his Wife, who (as I heare) meane to ſolicite him
For mercy to his Countrey: therefore let's hence,
And with our faire intreaties haſt them on.

Excunt

Enter Menenius to the Watch or Guard.

1.Wat. Stay: whence are you.

2.Wat. Stand, and go backe.

Me. You guard like men, 'tis well. But by your leane,
I am an Officer of State, & come to ſpeak with Coriolanus

1 From whence ?

Mene. From Rome.

1 You may not paffe, you muſt returne: our Generall
will no more heare from thence.

2 You'll fee your Rome embrac'd with fire, before
You'll ſpeake with Coriolanus.

Mene. Good my Friends,

If you haue heard your Generall talke of Rome,
And of his Friends there, it is Lots to Blankes,
My name hath touch't your eares: it is Menenius.

1 Be it so, go back: the vertue of your name,
Is not heere paffable.

Mene. I tell thee Fellow,

Thy Generall is my Louer : I haue beene
The booke of his good Actes, whence men haue read
His Fame vnparall'd, happily amplified :
For I haue euer verified my Friends,

(Of whom hee's cheeſe) with all the ſize that verity
Would without lapling ſuffer: Nay, ſometimes,
Like to a Bowle vpon a ſubtle ground
I haue tumbled pafft the throw: and in his prauſe
Haue (almoſt) ſtampt the Leaſing. Therefore Fellow,
I muſt haue leaue to paffe.

1 Faith Sir, if you had told as many lies in his behalſe,
as you haue vttered words in your owne, you ſhould not
paffe heere: no, though it were as vertuous to lye, as to
lieu chaflyt. Therefore go backe.

Men. Prythee fellow, remember my name is Menenius,
always eactionary on the party of your Generall.

2 How ſoemer you haue bin his Lier, as you ſay you
haue, I am one that telling true vnder him, muſt ſay you
cannot paffe. Therefore go backe.

Mene. Ha's he din'd can't thou tell? For I would not
ſpeake with him, till after dinner,

1 You are a Roman, are you?

Mene. I am as thy Generall is.

I. Then you should hate Rome, as he do's. Can you,
when you haue pufſt out your gates, the very Defende
of them, and in a violent popular ignorance, giuen you
enemy your ſhield, thinke to front his reuenges with
the eafe groanes of old women, the Virginall Palms of your
daughters, or with the paſſed interceſſion of ſuch a
cay'd Dotant as you ſeeme to be? Can you think to blou
out the intended fire, your City is ready to flame in,
ſuch weake breath as this? No, you are deceu'd, therefore
backe to Rome, and prepare for your execution: you
condemn'd, our Generall has ſworne you out of repre
and pardon.

Mene. Sirra, if thy Captaine knew I were here,
He would vſe me with eſtimation.

I Come, my Captaine knowes you not.

Mene. I meane thy Generall.

I My Generall cares not for you. Back ifay, go lea
I let forth your halfe pinte of blood. Backe, that's the
moſt of your hauing, backe.

Mene. Nay but Fellow, Fellow.

Enter Coriolanus with Auffidius.

Corio. What's the matter ?

Mene. Now you Companion: Ile ſay an arrant for you,
you shall know now that I am in eſtimation: you ſul
perceiue, that a Iacke gardant cannot office me from my
Son Coriolanus, gueſſe but my entertainment with him
thou ſtand'ſt not i'th ſtate of hanging, or of ſome de
more long in Speſtatorſhip, and crueller in ſuffering, be
hold now pretently, and ſwoond for what's to come vnto
thee. The glorious Gods ſit in hourly Synod about thy
particular prosperity, and loue thee no worſer than thy
df Father Menenius do's. O my Son, my Son! thou art pre
paring fire for vs: looke thee, heere's water to quench
I was hardly moued to come to thee: but beeing alſo
none but my ſelſe could moulc thee, I haue bene bloomer
out of your Gates with ſighes: and coniure thee to pa
don Rome, and thy petitionary Countrimen. The good
Gods affwage thy wrath, and turne the dregs of it, vnto
this Varlet heere: This, who like a blocke hath deſt
my acceſſe to thee.

Corio. Away.

Mene. How? Away ?

Corio. Wife, Mother, Child, I know not. My affilia

Are Seruanted to others: Though I owe
My Reuenge properly, my remission lies
In Volcean brefts. That we haue beene familiar,
Ingrate forgetſulneſſe shall poſon rather
Then Pitty: Note how much, therefore be gone.
Mine eares againſt your ſuites, are ſtronger then
Your gates againſt my force. Yet for I loued thee,
Take this along, I writ it for thy ſake,
And would haue ſent it. Another word Menenius,
I will not heare thee ſpeake. This man Auffidius
Was my belou'd in Rome: yet thou behold'ſt it.

Exeunt

Auffid. You keepe a conſtant temper.

Manet the Guard and Menenius.

1 Now fir, is your name Menenius?

2 'Tis a ſpell you ſee of much power:

You know the way home againe.

1 Do you heare how wee are ſhent for keeping your
greaneſſe backe?

2 What cauſe do you thinke I haue to ſwoond?

Menen. I neither care for th world, nor your Genera
for ſuch things as you, I can ſcarſe thinke the ſer
ſo flight. He that hath a will to die by himſelſe, ſeem
not

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

27

not from another: Let your Generall do his workt. For
you, bee that you are, long; and your misery encreafe
with your age. I say to you, as I was faid to, Away. Exit

1 A Noble Fellow I warrant him.

2 The worthy Fellow is our General. He's the Rock,
The Oake not to be winde-shaken.

Exit Watch.

Enter Coriolanus and Auffidius.

Corio. We will before the walls of Rome to morrow
Set downe our Hoaft. My partner in this Action,
You muft report to th'Volcian Lords, how plainly
I haue borne this Busineſſe.

Auf. Only their ends you haue respected,
Stopt your eares againſt the generall ſuite of Rome:
Neuer admitted a privat whiſper, no not with ſuch friends
That thought them ſure of you.

Corio. This laſt old man,
Whom with a crack'd heart I haue ſent to Rome,
Lon'd me, aboue the meaſure of a Father,
Nay godded me indeed. Their lateſt refuge
Was to ſend him: for whose old Loue I haue
(Though I ſhew'd ſowrely to him) once more offer'd
The first Conditions which they did reſuſe,
And cannot now accept, to grace him onely,
That thought he could do more: A very little
I haue yeelded too. Freſh Enbaffes, and Suites,
Nor from the State, nor private friends hereafter
Will I end eare to. Ha' what ſhout is this? Shout within
Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow
In the fame time 'tis made? I will not.

Enter Virgilia, Volumnia, Valeria, yong Martini,
with Attendants.

My wife comes ſormoft, then the honour'd moudl
Wherein this Trunke was fram'd, and in her hand
The Grandchilde to her blood. But our affection,
All bond and priuilege of Nature breake;
Let it be Vertuous to be Obſtinate.
What is that Curt'lie worth? Or those Doues eyes,
Which can make Gods forſworne ? I melt, and am not
Of ſtronger earth then others: my Mother bowes,
As if Olympus to a Mole-hill ſhould
Inſp application Nod: and my yong Boy
Hath an Aſpect of interceſſion, which
Great Nature cries, Deny not. Let the Volees
Plough Rome, and harrow Italy. He neuer
Be ſuch a Goſling to obey inſtint; but ſtand
As if a man were Author of himselfe, & knew no other kin
Virg. My Lord and Husband.

Corio. These eyes are not the fame I wore in Rome.
Virg. The ſorrow that deliueres vs thus chang'd,
Makes you thinke so.

Corio. Like a dull Aſtor now, I haue ſотт my part.
And I am out, euen to a full Difgrace. Beſt of my Fleſh,
Forgive my Tyranny: but do not ſay,
For that ſorſure our Romanes. O a kiffle
Long as my Exile, ſweet as my Reuenge!
Now by the teaſous Queene of Heauen, that kiffle
I carried from thee deare; and my true Lippe
Hath Virgin'd it ere ſince. You Gods, I pray,
And the moſt noble Mother of the world
Leaue vnſaluted: Sinke my knee i'th'earth,
Of thy deepe duty, more impreſſion ſhew
Then that of common Sonnes.

Volum. Oh ſtand vp bſt !

Whil't with no ſofter Cuffiion then the Flint
I kneele before thee, and vnproperly
Shew duty as miſtaken, all this while,

Betweene the Childe, and Parent.

Corio. What's this? your knees to me?

To your Corrected Sonne ?

Then let the Pibbles on the hungry beach

Fillop the Starres: Then, let the mutinous windes

Strike the proud Cedars 'gainſt the ſiery Sun:

Murd'ring Impoſsibility, to make

What cannot be, flight worke.

Volum. Thou art my Warriour, I hope to frame thee
Do you know this Lady ?

Corio. The Noble Sifter of Publicola;
The Moone of Rome: Chaſte as the Iſicle
That's curdied by the Froſt, from pureſt Snow,
And hangs on Dians Temple: Deere Valeria.

Volum. This is a poore Epitome of yours,
Which by th'interpretation of full time,
May ſhow like all your ſelſe.

Corio. The God of ſoildiers:
With the conſent of ſupreame Ioue, informe
Thy thoughts with Noblenſe, that thou mayſt proue
To ſhame vnvulnerable, and ſickè i'th' Warres
Like a great Sea-marke standing euery flaw,
And fauing thofe that eye theſe.

Volum. Your knee, Sirrah.

Corio. That's my braue Boy.

Volum. Euen he, your wife, this Ladie, and my ſelſe,
Are Sutors to you,

Corio. I beſeech you peace:
Or if you'd aske, remember this before;

The thing I haue forſworne to graunt, may neuer

Be held by you denials. Do not bid me

Difmiſſe my ſoldiers, or capitulate

Againe, with Romes Mechanickes. Tell me not

Wherein I ſeeme vnnaſturaſl: Deſire not t'allay

My Rages and Reuenges, with your colder reaſons.

Volum. Oh no more, no more!

You haue ſaid you will not grant vs any thing:

For we haue nothing eſſe to aske, but that

Which you deny already: yet we will aske,

That if you faile in our requeſt, the blame

May hang upon your hardneſſe, therefore heare vs.

Corio. Auffidius, and you Volces marke, for weel
Heare nought from Rome in private. Your requeſt?

Volum. Should we be ſilent & not ſpeak, our Raiment
And flate of Bodies would bewray what life
We haue led ſince thy Exile. Thinke with thy ſelſe,
How more vnfortunate then all liuing women

Are we come hither; ſince that thy fight, which ſhould
Make our eies flow with joy, harts dance with comforts,
Conſtraines them weepe, and ſhake with ſeare & ſorow,
Making the Mother, wife, and Childe to ſee,

The Sonne, the Husband, and the Father tearing

His Countries Bowels out; and to poore we

Thine enmities moſt capitall: Thou bann't vs

Our prayers to the Gods, which is a comfort

That all but we enjoy. For how can we?

Alas! how can we, for our Country pray?

Whereto we are bound, together with thy victory :

Where to we are bound: Alack, or we muſt looke

The Countrie our deere Nurſe, or eſſe thy perſon

Our comfort in the Country. We muſt ſinde

An euident Calamity, though we had

Our wif, which ſide ſhould win. For either thou

Muſt as a Forraine Rectreant be led

With Manacles through our streets, or eſſe

Triumphantly treade on thy Countries ruine,

cc 2

And

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

And beare the Palme, for hauing braely ſhed
Thy Wife and Childrens blood: For my ſelfe, Sonne,
I purpofe not to waite on Fortune, till
Thee warres determine: If I cannot perſwade thee,
Rather to ſhew a Noble grace to both parts,
Then ſeeke the end of one ; thou ſhalt no tooner
March to affault thy Country, then to treade
(Truſt too't, thou ſhalt nor) on thy Mothers wome
That brought thee to this world.

Virg. I, and mine, that brought you forth this boy,
To keepe your name liuing to time.

Boy. A ſhall not tread on me: Ile run away
Till I am bigger, but then Ile fight.

Corio. Not of a womans tenderneſſe to be,
Requires nor Childe, nor womans face to ſee:
I haue ſate too long.

Volum. Nay, go not from vs thus:
If it were so, that our requeſt did tend
To faue the Romanes, thereby to deſtroy
The Volces whom you ſerue, you might condemne vs
As poyſonous of your Honour. No, our ſuite
Is that you reconcile them: While the Volces
May ſay, this mercy we haue ſhew'd: the Romanes,
This we recei'u'd, and each in either ſide
Giu'e the All-haile to thee, and cry be Bleft
For making vp this peace. Thou know'ſt (great Sonne)
The end of Warres vncertaine: but this certaine,
That if thou conquer Rome, the benefit
Which thou ſhals thereby reape, is ſuch a name
Whofe repetition will be dogg'd with Curſes :
Whofe Chronicle thus writ, The man was Noble,
But with his laſt Attempt, he wip'd it out:
Deſtroy'd his Country, and his name remaines
To th'infuſing Age, abhorr'd. Speake to me Son:
Thou haſt affected the ſiue ſtraines of Honor,
To imitate the graces of the Gods.

To teare with Thunder the wide Cheekes a'th'Ayre,
And yet to change thy Sulphure with a Boult
That ſhould but riu'e an Oake. Why do't not ſpeake?
Think'ſt thou it Honourable for a Nobleman
Still to remember wrongs? Daughter, ſpeake you:
He cares not for your weeping. ſpeake thou Boy,
Perhaps thy childeſheneſſe will moue him more
Then can our Reaſons. There's no man in the world
More bound to's Mother, yet heere he let's me prate
Like one i'th'Stockes. Thou haſt neuer in thy life,
Shew'd thy deere Mother any curſeſe,
When ſhe (poore Hen) ſond of no ſecond brood,
Ha's clock'd thee to the Warres: and ſafelie home
Loden with Honor. Say my Requeſt's vnjuſt,
And ſpurne me backe: But, if it be not so
Thou art not honeſt, and the Gods will plague thee
That thou reſtrain'd from me the Duty, which
To a Mothers part belongs. He turnes away:
Down Ladies: let vs ſhame him with him without knees
To his ſur-name Coriolanus longs more pride
Then pitty to our Prayers. Downe: an end,
This is the laſt. So, we will home to Rome,
And dye among our Neighbours: Nay, behold's,
This Boy that cannot tell what he would haue,
But knees, and holds vp hands for fellowship,
Doe's reaſon our Petition with more ſtrenght
Then thou haſt to deny't. Come, let vs go:
This Fellow had a Volcean to his Mother:
His Wife is in Coriolus, and his Childe
Like him by chance: yet giue vs our dispatch:

I am hufſt vntill our City be afire, & then I ſpeak a little
Holds her by the hand ſilent.

Corio. O Mother, Mother!
What haue you done? Behold, the Heauens do ope,
The Gods looke downe, and this vn naturall Scene
They laugh at. Oh my Mother, Mother: Oh!
You haue wonne a happy Victory to Rome.
But for your Sonne, beleeue it: Oh beleeue it,
Moſt dangerouſly you haue with him preuail'd,
If not moſt mortall to him. But let it come:
Aſſiduus, though I cannot make true Warres,
Ile frame conuenient peace. Now good Aſſiduus,
Were you in my ſeed, would you haue heard
A Mother leſſe? or granted leſſe Aſſiduus?

Auf. I was mou'd withall.

Corio. I dare be ſworne you were:
And fir, it is no little thing to make.
Mine eyes to (wear) compassion. But (good fir)
What peace you'll make, aduife me: For my part,
Ile not to Rome, Ile backe with you, and pray you
Stand to me in this cauſe. Oh Mother! Wifel

Auf. I am glad thou haſt fet thy mercy, & thy Honors.
At difference in thee: Out of that Ile worke
My ſelfe a former Fortune.

Corio. I by and by: But we will drinke together:
And you shall beare
A better witneſſe backe then words, which we
On like conditions, will haue Counter-fea'd.
Come enter with vs: Ladies you deferue
To haue a Temple built you: All the Swords
In Italy, and her Confederate Armes.
Could haue made this peace.

Exemt.
Enter Menenius and Sicinus, (flaunt)

Mene. See you yon'g Coin a'rh Capitol, you'd come
Sicin. Why what of that?

Mene. If it be poſſible for you to diſplace him with your
little finger, there is ſome hope the Ladies of Rome, eſ-
cially his Mother, may preuail with him. But I lay, there
is no hope in't, our throats are ſentenc'd, and ſiay oppan
execution.

Sicin. Is't poſſible, that so ſhort a time can alter the
condition of a man.

Mene. There is difference between a Grub & a Bater.
fly, yet your Butter fly was a Grub: this (Martiſus, in
growne from Man to Dragon: He has wings, he's more
then a creeping thing.

Sicin. He lou'd his Mother deerely.

Mene. So did he mee: and he no more remembers his
Mother now, then an eight yeare old horſe. The careneſſe
of his face, ſowres ripe Grapes. When he walks, he mous
like an Engine, and the ground ſhrinkes before his Tra-
ding. He is able to pierce a Corſlet with his eye. Talk
ing like a knell, and his hum is a Battery. He fits in his State,
as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids bee done, is
finiſht with his bidding. He wants nothing of a God but
Eternity, and a Heauen to THRONE in.

Sicin. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly.

Mene. I paint him in the Character. Mark what me-
cy his Mother ſhall bring from him: There is no more
mercy in him, then there is milke in a male-Tyger, that
ſhall our poore City finde: and all this is long of you

Sicin. The Gods be good vnto vs.

Mene. No, in ſuch a caſe the Gods will not bee good
vnto vs. When we baniſh'd him, we reſpect not them:
and he returning to breake our neckes, they reſpect not vs.

Enter a Messenger. Moſt

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

29

Mef. Sir, if you'd faue your life, flye to your House,
The Plebeians haue got your Fellow Tribune,
And hale him vp and downe; all swearing, if
The Romane Ladies bring not comfort home,
They'l giue him death by Inches.

Enter another Meſſanger.

Sicin. What's the Newes?

(preuayl'd,

Mef. Good Newes, good Newes, the Ladies haue

The Volcians are dilſod'd, and Martius gone :

A merrier day did neuer yet greet Rome,
No, not th'expulsion of the Tarquins.

Sicin. Friend, art thou certaine this is true ?

Is't moſt certaine.

Mef. As certaine as I know the Sun is fire :

Where haue you lurk'd that you make doubt of it:
Ne're through an Arch so hurried the blowne Tide,

As the recomforted through th'gates. Why harke you :
Trumpets, Hoboyes, Drums beat, altogether.

The Trumpets, Sack-buts, Pfaſteries, and Fifes,
Tabers, and Swopes, and the flowting Romans

Make the Sunne dance, Hearke you.

A ſhout within

Mene. This is good Newes :

I will go meete the Ladies. This Volumnia,
Is worth of Conſuls, Senators, Patricians,
A City full: Of Tribunes such as you,
A Sea and Land full: you haue pray'd well to day :
This Morning, for tenthouſand of your throates,
I'd not haue giuen a doit. Harke, how they ioy.

Sound fill with the Shouts.

Sicin. First, the God's bleſſe you for your tydings :

Next, accept my thankſulneſſe.

Mef. Sir, we haue all great cauſe to giue great thanks.

Sicin. They are neere the City.

Mef. Almoſt at point to enter.

Sicin. Wee'l meet them, and helpe the ioy. Exeunt.

Enter two Senators, with Ladies, paſſing over
the Stage, with other Lords.

Sena. Behold our Patronneſſe, the life of Rome :

Call all your Tribes together, præife the Gods,
And make triuphant make, flew Flowers before them :

Vnſhoot the noife that Banifh'd Martius;

Repeale him, with the welcome of his Mother :

Cry welcome Ladies, welcome.

All. Welcome Ladies, welcome.

A Flourſh with Drummes & Trumpets.

Enter Tullus Auffidius, with Attendants.

Auf. Go tell the Lords a'th'City, I am here:

Deliver them this Paper: hauing read it,

Bid them repayre to th'Market place, where I

Euen in theirs, and in the Commons eares

Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuſe :

The City Ports by this hath enter'd, and

Intends t'appeare before the People, hoping'
To purge him ſelfe with words. Difpatch.

Enter 3 or 4 Conſpirators of Auffidius Faſtion.

Moft Welcome.

1. Con. How is it with our Generall ?

Auf. Euen ſo, as with a man by his owne Almes im-
ploy'd, and with his Charity flaine.

2. Con. Moſt Noble Sir, If you do hold the fame intent

Wherein you wifht vs parties: Wee'l deliuer you
Of your great danger.

Auf. Sir, I cannot tell,

We muſt proceed as we do finde the People.

3. Con. The People will remaine vncertaing, whil't
*Twixt you there's difference: but the fall of either
Makes the Suruiuor heyre of all.

Auf. I know it:

And my pretext to ſtrike at him, admits

A good construction. I rais'd him, and I pawn'd
Mine Honor for his truth: who being ſo heighten'd,

He watered his new Plants with dewes of Flattery,
Seducing ſo my Friends: and to this end,

He bow'd his Nature, neuer knowne before,

But to be rough, vnſwayable, and free.

3. Conſp. Sir, his ſtouteſſe

When he did ſand for Conſull, which he loft
By lacke of flooping.

Auf. That I would haue ſpoket of:

Being banifh'd for't, he came vnto my Harth,

Preſented to my knife his Throat: I tooke him,

Made him ioynt-ferant with me: Gauë him way

In all his owne defines: Nay, let him choofe

Out of my Files, his proieets, to accompliſh

My beſt and ſrefheſt men, ſeru'd his deſignements

In mine owne perſon: holpe to reape the ſame

Which he did end all his; and tooke ſome pride

To do my ſelſe this wrong: Till at the laſt

I ſeem'd his Follower, nor Partner; and

He wadg'd me with his Countenance, as if

I had bin Mercenary.

1. Con. So he did my Lord :

The Army marueyl'd at it, and in the laſt,
When he had carried Rome, and that we look'd
For no ſelle Spoile, then Glory.

Auf. There was it :

For which my ſinewes ſhall be ſtretcch vpon him,
At a few drops of Womens rhewme, which are
As cheape as Lies; he fold the Blood and Labour
Of our great Action; therefore ſhall he dye,
And Ile renew me in his fall. But hearke.

Drummes and Trumpets ſounds, with great
howls of the people.

1. Con. Your Native Towne you enter'd like a Poſte,
And had no welcomes home, but he returns

Splitting the Ayre with noyſe.

2. Con. And patient Fooles,

Whofe children he hath flaine, their bafe throats teare
With giuing him glory.

3. Con. Therefore at your vantage,

Ere he expreſſe him ſelfe, or moue the people

With what he would ſay, let him feele your Sword:

Which we will ſecond, when he lies along

After your way. His Tale pronounc'd, ſhall bury
His Reaſons, with his Body.

Auf. Say no more. Heere come the Lords,
Enter the Lords of the City.

All Lords. You are moſt welcome home.

Auf. I haue not deferu'd it.

But worthy Lords, haue you with heede perſuad
What I haue written to you ?

All. We haue.

1. Lord. And greeue to heare't:

What faults he made before the laſt, I thinke

Might haue found eafe Fines: But there to end

Where he was to begin, and giue away

The benefit of our Leuies, anſwering vs

With our owne charge: making a Treatie, where

There was a yeelding; this admits no excufe.

cc.3

Auf.

The Tragedie of Coriolanus.

30

Auf. He approaches, you shall heare him.
Enter Coriolanus marching with Drumme, and Colours. The Commoners being with him.

Corio. Haile Lords, I am return'd your Souldier:
No more infected with my Countries loue
Then when I parted hence: but still subfifting
Vnder your great Command. You are to know,
That profesperously I haue attempted, and
With bloody paſſage led your Warres, euen to
The gates of Rome: Our ſpoiles we haue brought home
Doth more then counterpoize a full third part
The charges of the Action. We haue made peace
With no leſſe Honor to the *Antiates*
Then ſhame to th' Romaines. And we heere deliuer
Subſcrib'd by'th' Conſuls, and Patricians,
Together with the Seale a' th Senat, what
We haue compounded on.

Auf. Read it not Noble Lords,
But tell the Traitor in the highest degree
He hath abus'd your Powers.

Corio. Traitor? How now?

Auf. I Traitor, *Martius*.

Corio. *Martius*?

Auf. I *Martius*, *Caius Martius*: Do'ft thou thinke
Ile grace thee with that Robbery, thy ſtolne name
*Coriolanès* in *Corioles*?

You Lords and Heads a' th' State, perfidiously
He ha's betray'd your buſinesſe, and giuen vp
For certaine drops of Salt, your City Rome:
I ſay your City to his Wife and Mother,
Breaking his Oath and Reſolution, like
A twiſt of rotten Silke, neuer admitting
Counſaile a' th' warre: But at his Nuerſes teares
He whin'd and roar'd away your Vifory,
That Pages bluſh'd at him, and men of heart
Look'd wond'ring each at others.

Corio. Hear'ft thou Mars?

Auf. Name not the God, thou boy of Tegares.

Corio. Ha?

Aufid. No more.

Corio. Meaſureleſſe Lyar, thou haſt made my heart
Too great for what containes it. Boy? Oh Slaue,
Pardon me Lords,' tis the firſt time that euer
I was forſc'd to ſcoul'd. Your iudgments my graue Lords
Muſt giue this Curre the Lye: and his owne Notion,
Who weares my ſtripes impreſt vpon him, that
Muſt beare my beating to his Graue, ſhall ioyne
To thruft the Lye vnto him.

1. Lord. Peace both, and heare me ſpeak.

Corio. Cut me to peeces Volces men and Lads,
Staine all your edges on me. Boy, falſe Hound:
If you haue writ your Annales true, 'tis there,
That like an Eagle in a Doue-coat, I

Flatter'd your Volcians in *Corioles*.
Alone I did it, Boy.

Auf. Why Noble Lords,
Will you be put in minde of his blinde Fortune,
Which was your ſhame, by this vnholy Braggart?
'Fore your owne eyes, and eares?

All Conſp. Let him dye for't.

All People. Teare him to peeces, do it preſently:
He kill'd my Sonne, my daughter, he kill'd my Coline
*Marcus*, he kill'd my Father.

2. Lord. Peace hoe: no outrage, peace:
The man is Noble, and his Fame folds in
This Orbe o'th'earth: His laſt offences to vs
Shall haue Iudicious hearing. Stand *Auffidius*,
And trouble not the peace.

Corio. O that I had him, with fix *Auffidinus*, or more
His Tribe, to vſe my lawfull Sword.

Auf. Inſolent Villaine.

All Conſp. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him,
Draw both the Conſpirators, and kils *Martius*, who
*falles*, *Auffidius* stands on him.

Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold.

Auf. My Noble Maſters, heare me ſpeak.

1. Lord. O *Tullius*.

2. Lord. Thou haſt done a deed, whereat
Valour will weepe.
3. Lord. Tread not vpon him Maſters, all be quiet,
Put vp your Swords.

Auf. My Lords,

When you ſhall know (as in this Rage
Prouok'd by him, you cannot) the great danger
Which this mans life did owe you, you'l reioyce
That he is thus cut off. Pleafe it your Honours.
To call me to your Senate, Ile deliuer
My ſelfe your loyall Seruant, or endure
Your heauieſt Cenſure.

1. Lord. Beare from hence his body,
And mourne you for him. Let him be regarded
As the moſt Noble Coarſe, that euer Herald
Did follow to his Vrne.

2. Lord. His owne impatience,
Takes from *Auffidius* a great part of blame:
Let's make the Belf of it.

Auf. My Rage is gone,
And I am trucke with ſorrow. Take him vp:
Helpe three a' th' cheeſeſt Souldiers, Ile be one.
Beate thou the Drumme that it ſpeake mournfully:
Traile your ſteele Pikes. Though in this City hee
Hath widdowed and vnchilded many a one,
Which to this houre bewaile the Iniury,
Yet he shall haue a Noble Memory. Affiſt.

Exenent bearing the Body of *Martius*. A dead *Martius*.
Sounded.

FINIS.

# The Lamentable Tragedy of
Titus Andronicus.

## Actus Primus. Scena Prima.

Flourish.
Enter the Tribunes and Senators aloft. And then enter Saturninus and his Followers at one door, and Bafsius and his Followers at the other, with Drum & Colours.

### Saturninus.

Oble Patricians, Patrons of my right,
Defend the justice of my Cause with Armes.
And Countrey-men, my louing Followers,
Plead my Succession Title with your Swords.

I was the first borne Sonne, that was the last
That wore the Imperiall Diadem of Rome:
Then let my Fathers Honours liue in me,
Nor wrong mine Age with this indignitie.

Bafsius, Romaines, Friends, Followers,
Fauourers of my Right:

If either Bafsius, Cafars Sonne,
Were gracious in the eyes of Royall Rome,
Keepe then this passage to the Capitoll:
And suffer not DisHonour to approach
Th'Imperiall Seate to Vertue : confecrate
To Justice, Continence, and Nobility:

But let Defert in pure Election florne ;

And Romanes, fight for Freedome in your Choice.

### Enter Marcus Andronicus aloft with the Crowne.

Princes, that striue by Factions, and by Friends,
Ambitiously for Rule and Empiry:
Know, that the people of Rome for whom we stand
Are speciall Party, have by Common voyce
In Election for the Romane Emperie,
Chosen Andronicus, Sur-named Pious,
For many good and great deferts to Rome.
A Nobler man, a brauer Warriour,
Lives not this day within the City Walles.
He by the Senate is accited home.

From weary Warres againft the barbarous Gothes,
That with his Sonnes (a terror to our Foes)

Hath yoak'd a Nation strong, train'd vp in Armes.

Ten yeares are spent, since first he vndertooke
This Cause of Rome, and chafticed with Armes
Our Enemies pride. Five times he hath return'd
Bleeding to Rome, bearing his Valiant Sonnes
In Coffins from the Field.

And now at last, laden with Honours Spoyles,
Returnes the good Andronicus to Rome,
Renowned Titus, flourishing in Armes.

Let vs intreat, by Honour of his Name,
Whom (worthily) you would haue now fucceede,
And in the Capitoll and Senates right,
Whom you pretend to Honour and Adore,
That you withdraw you, and abate your Strength,
Difmitfe your Followers, and as Suters should,
Plead your Deferts in Peace and Humbleneffe.

Saturnine. How fayre the Tribune speaks,
To calme my thoughts.

Bafsius. Marcia Andronicus, so I do affie
In thy vprightneffe and Integrity:
And so I Loue and Honor thee, and thine,
Thy Noble Brother Titus, and his Sonnes,
And Her (to whom my thoughts are humbled alı)
Gracious Laninia, Romes rich Ornament,
That I will heere difmitfe my louing Friends :
And to my Fortunes, and the Peoples Fauour,
Commit my Cauſe in ballance to be weigh'd.

### Exit Souldiours.

Saturnine. Friends, that haue beene
Thus forward in my Right,
I thanke you all, and heere Difmitſe you all,
And to the Loue and Fauour of my Countrey,
Commit my Selve, my Perſon, and the Cauſe:
Rome, be as iuſt and gracious vnto me,
As I am confident and kinde to thee.

Open the Gates, and let me in.

Bafsiu. Tribunes, and me, a poore Competitor.

Flourish. They go vp into the Senate houſe.

### Enter a Captaine.

Cap. Romanes make way : the good Andronicus,
Patron of Vertue, Romes beſt Champion,
Succesſefull in the Battailles that he fightes,
With Honour and with fortune is return'd,
From whence he circumſcribed with his Sword,
And brought to yoke the Enemies of Rome.

Sound Drummes and Trumpets. And then enter two of Titus Sonnes; After them, two men bearing a Coffin couered with blacke, then two other Sonnes. After them, Titus Andronicus, and then Tamora the Queens of Gothes, & her two Sonnes Chiron and Demetrius, with Aaron the Moore, and others, as many as can bee: They set downe the Coffin, and Titus ſpeakes.

Andronicus. Haile Rome:

Victorious in thy Mourning Weedes:

Loe,

The Tragedie of Titus Andronicus.

32

Loe as the Barke that hath discharg'd his fraught,
Returnes with precious lading to the Bay,
From whence at firſt the weg'd her Anchorage :
Commeth Andronicus bound with Lawrell bowes,
To refalute his Country with his teares,
Teares of true ioy for his returne to Rome,
Thou great defender of this Capitoll,
Stand gracious to the Rites that we intend.
Romaines, of ſiue and twenty Valiant Sonnes,
Halfe of the number that King Priam had,
Behold the poore remaines alive and dead!
Theſe that Suruine, let Rome reward with Loue:
Theſe that I bring vnto their lateſt home,
With buriall amongst their Aunceſtors,
Heere Gothes have giuen me leaue to theath my Sword:
Titus vnkinde, and careſſe of thine owne,
Why ſuffer't thou thy Sonnes vnburied yet,
To houer on the dreadfull ſhore of Stix ?
Make way to lay them by their Bretheren.

They open the Tombe.
There greete in ſilence as the dead are went,
And ſleepe in peace, ſaine in your Countries warres:
O ſacred receptacle of my ioyes,
Sweet Cell of vertue and Noblitie,
How many Sonnes of mine haſt thou in ſtore,
That thou wilt neuer render to me more ?

Lnc. Giue vs the proudeſt prifoner of the Gothes,
That we may hew his limbes, and on a pile
Admanus fratrum, ſacrifice his fleſh:
Before this earthly prifon of their bones,
That ſo the ſhadowes be not vnappeas'd,
Nor we diſurb'd with prodigies on earth.

Tit. I giue him you, the Nobleft that Suruines,
The eldeſt Son of this diſtressed Queene.
Jym. Stay Romaine Bretheren, gracious Conqueror,
Victerious Titus, true the teares I ſhed,
A Mothers teares in aſſion for her ſonne:
And if thy Sonnes were euer deere to thee,
Oh thinke my ſonnes to be as deere to mee.
Sufficeth not, that we are brought to Rome
To beautiſe thy Triumphs, and returne
Captiue to thee, and to rhy Romaine yoake,
But muſt my Sonnes be ſlaughtred in the ſtreetes,
For Valiant doings in their Countries caufe ?
O ! If to fight for King and Common-weale,
Were piety in thine, it is in theſe:
Andronicus, ſtaine not thy Tombe with blood.
Wilt thou draw neere the nature of the Gods ?
Draw neere them then in being merciſull,
Sweet mercy is Nobilities true badge,
Thrice Noble Titus, (pare my firſt borne ſonne.

Tit. Patient your ſelfe Madam, and pardon me.
These are the Brethren, whom you Gothes beheld
Aliue and dead, and for their Bretheren ſaine,
Religiously they aske a ſacrifice:
To this your ſonne is markt, and die he muſt,
T'appeaſe their groaning ſhadowes that are gone.
Luc. Away with him, and make a fire ſtraight,
And with our Swords vpon a pile of wood,
Let's hew his limbes till they be cleane confum'd.

Exit Sonnes with Alarbus.
Tamo. O cruell irreligious piety.
Chi. Was euer Scythia halſe ſo barbarous ?
Dem. Oppoſe me Scythia to ambitious Rome,

Alarbus goes to reſt, and we ſuruine,
To tremble vnder Titus threatening lookes,
Then Madam ſtand reſolu'd, but hope withall,
The ſelſe fame Gods that arm'd the Queene of Troy
With opportunitie of ſharpe reuenge,
Vpon the Thracian Tyrant in his Tent,
May fauour Tamora the Queene of Gothes,
(When Gothes were Gothes, and Tamora was Queene)
To quit the bloody wrongs vpon her foes.

Enter the Sonnes of Andronicus againe.

Luci. See Lord and Father, how we haue perform'd
Our Romaine rightes, Alarbus limbs are lopt,
And intrals feede the facrifiſing fire,
Whof ſmoke like in cenſe doth perfume the skie,
Remaineth nought but to interre our Brethren,
And with low'd Larums welcome them to Rome.

Tit. Let it be ſo, and let Andronicus
Make this his lateſt farewell to their foules.

Floriftis.
Then Sound Trumpets, and lay the Coffins in the Tombe.
In peace and Honour reſt you heere my Sonnes,
Romes readieſt Champions, repoſe you heere in reſt,
Secure from worldly chaunces and miſhaps :
Heere lurks no Treason, heere no enuie fwels,
Heere grow no damned grudges, heere are no ſtormes,
No noyſe, but ſilence and Eternall ſleepe,
In peace and Honour reſt you heere my Sonnes.

Enter Lauinia.

Lani. In peace and Honour, liue Lord Titus long,
My Noble Lord and Father, liue in Fame:
Loe at this Tombe my tributarie teares,
I render for my Bretherens Obſequies:
And at thy ſeece I kneele, with teares of ioy
Shed on the earth for thy returne to Rome.
O bleſſe me heere with thy victerious hand,
Whole Fortune Romes beſt Citizens appla'd.

Ti. Kind Rome,
That haſt thus louingly referu'd
The Cordiall of mine age to glad my hart,
Lauinia liue, out-liue thy Fathers dayes :
And Fames eternall date for vertues praisè.

Marc. Long liue Lord Titus, my beloved brother,
Gracious Triumphor in the eyes of Rome.

Tit. Thankes GentleTribune,
Noble brother Marcus.

Mar. And welcome! Nephews from ſuccesſull wars,
You that ſuruine and you that ſleepe in Fame:
Faire Lords your Fortunes are all alike in all,
That in your Countries ſeruice drew your Swords.
But laſer Triumph is this Funerall Pompe,
That hath aſpir'd to Solens Happines.
And Triumphs ouer chaunce in honours bed.
Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome,
Whose ſtrend in iuſtice thou haſt euer bene,
Send thee by me their Tribune and their truſt,
This Palliament of white and ſpotleſſe Flue,
And name thee in Election for the Empire,
With theſe our late decaſed Emperours Sonnes:
Be Candidatus then, and put it on,
And helpe to ſet a head on headleſſe Rome.

Tit. A better head her Glorious body ſies,
Then his that ſnakes for age and ſeeblenſe:

What

33

What should I do on this Robe and trouble you,
Be chosten with proclamations to day,
To morrow yeeld vp rule, reſigne my life,
And fet abroad new busineſſe for you all.
Rome I haue bene thy Souldier forty yeares,
And led my Countries strength ſuſeſſefully,
And buried one and twenty Valiant Sonnes,
Knighted in Field, ſaine manfully in Armes,
In right and Service of their Noble Countrie:
Gie me a ſtaſſe of Honour for mine age,
But not a Scepter to controule the world,
Vpright he held it Lords, that held it laſt.

Mar. Titus, thou ſhalt obtaine and aske the Emperie.

Sat. Proud and ambitious Tribune can I thou tell?

Titus. Patience Prince Saturninus,

Sat. Romaines do me right.

Patricians draw your Swords, and ſhewe them not
Till Saturninus be Romes Emperour:
Andronicus would thou wert ſhipt to hell,
Rather then rob me of the peoples harts.

Luc. Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good
That Noble minded Titus meanes to thee.

Tit. Content thee Prince, I will restore to thee
The peoples harts, and weane them from them ſelues.

Bafs. Andronicus, I do not flatter thee
But Honour thee, and will doe till I die:

My Faſtion if thou ſtrengthen with thy Friend :
I will moſt thankefull be, and thankes to men
Of Noble mindeſs, is Honourable Mee de.

Tit. People of Rome, and Noble Tribunes heere,
I aske your voyces and your Suffrages,
Will you beſtow them friendly on Andronicus?

Tribunes. To gratulate the good Andronicus,
And Gratulate his ſafe returne to Rome,
The people will accept whom he admits.

Tit. Tribunes I thanke you, and this ſure I make,
That you Create y our Emperours eldeſt ſonne,
Lord Saturnine, whose Vertues will I hope,
Reſtect on Rome as Tytans Rayes on earth,
And ripen Iuſtice in this Common-wealth:
Then if you will eleſt by my auideſe,
Crowne him, and ſay: Long life our Emperour.

Mar. An. With Voyces and applaſe of every fort,
Patricians and Plebeans we Create
Lord Saturninus Romes Great Emperour.
And ſay, Long time our Emperour Saturnine.

A long Flourish till they come downe.

Sat. Titus Andronicus, for thy Fauours done,
To vs in our Election this day,
I giue thee thankes in part of thy Deſerts,
And will with Deeds requite thy gentlenesse
And for an Onſet Titus to aduance
Thy Name, and Honorable Familie,
Lauinia will I make my Emprefſe,
Rome s Royall Miftris, Miftris of my hart
And in the Sacred Pathan her eſpoſe :

Tell me Andronicus doth this motion please thee ?
Tit. It doth my worthy Lord, and in this match,
I hold me Highly Honoured of your Grace,
And heere in fight of Rome, to Saturnine,
King and Commander of our Common-wealth,
The Wide-worlds Emperour, do I Confecrate,
My Sword, my Chariot, and my Prifonerſs,
Prefeſts well Worthy Romes Imperiall Lord :
Receive them then, the Tribute that I owe,
Mine Honours Enſignes humbled at my feetes.

Sat. Thankes Noble Titus, Father of my life,
How proud I am of thee, and of thy gifts
Rome ſhall record, and when I do forget
The leaſt of these ſvnſpeakable Deſerts,
Romans forget your Fealtrie to me.

Tit. Now Madam are your prifoner to an Emperour,
To him that for you Honour and your State,
Will vie you Nobly and your followers.

Sat. A goodly Lady, truſt me of the Hue
That I would chooſe, were I to chooſe a new:
Cleere vp Faire Queene that cloudy countenance,
Though chance of warre

Hath wrought this change of cheere,
Thou com'ſt not to be made a ſcorne in Rome:

Princely ſhall be thy ſvage euery way.

Reſt on my word, and let not diſcontent

Daunt all your hopes: Madam he comforts you,
Can make your Greater then the Queene of Gothes?

Lauinia you are not diſplea'd with this ?

Lau. Not I my Lord, ſith true Nobilitie,
Warrants theſe words in Princely curſeſe.

Sat. Thankes ſweete Lauinia. Romans let vs goe:
Ranſomleſſe here we ſet our Prifoners free,
Proclaime our Honors Lords with Trumpe and Drum.

Bafs. Lord Titus by your leaue, this Maid is mine.

Tit. How fit ? Are you in earneſt then my Lord?

Bafs. I Noble Titus, and reſolu'd withall,

To doe my ſelfe this reaſon, and this right.

Marc. Suum cuiquam, is our Romane Iuſtice,
This Prince in Iuſtice ceazeth but his owne.

Luc. And that he will and ſhall, if Lucius liue.

Tit. Traytors auant, where is the Emperours Guarde?

Treacony my Lord, Lauinia is ſurpil'd.

Sat. Surpil'd, by whom?

Bafs. By him that iuſtly may

Beare his Betroth'd, from all the world away.

Mut. Brothers helpe to conuey her hence away,
And with my Sword Ile keepe this doore ſafe.

Tit. Foilow my Lord, and Ile ſoone bring her backe.

Mut. My Lord you paſſe not heere.

Tit. What villaine Boy, bar'ſt me my way in Rome?

Mut. Helpe Lucius helpe.

He kils him.

Luc. My Lord you are vniuſt, and more then ſo,
In wrongfull quarrell, you haue ſaine your ſon.

Tit. Nor thou, nor he are any ſonnes of mine,
My ſonnes would neuer ſo diſhonour me.

Traytor reſtore Lauinia to the Emperour.

Luc. Dead if you will, but not to be his wife,
That is anothers lawfull promiſt Loue.

Enter aloſt the Emperour with Tamora and her two
fonnes, and Aaron the Moore.

Empe. No Titus, no, the Emperour needs her not,
Nor her, nor thee, nor any of thy flocke:
Ile truſt by Leifure him that mocks me once,
Thee neuer : nor thy Trayterous haughty ſonnes,
Coafederates all; thus to diſhonour me.

Was none in Rome to make a ſtale
But Saturnine ? Full well Andronicus

Agree theſe Deeds, with that proud bragge of thine,
That ſaid 't, I beg'd the Empire at thy hand :

Tit. O monſtrous, what reproachfull words are theſe ?
Sat. But goe thy wayes, goe giue that changing peecce,
To him that flouriſt for her with his Sword :

A Valliant ſonne in-law thou ſhalt enioy a
One, ſit to bandy with thy lawleſſe Sonnes,

To

34

To ruffle in the Common-wealth of Rome,

Titus. These words are Razors to my wounded hart.

Sat. And therefore louely *Tamora* Queene of Gothes,
That like the stately *7 hebe mong'ft her Nimphs
Doft ouer-shine the Gallant'ft Dames of Rome,
If thou be pleaf'd with this my sodaine choyfe,
Behold I choofe thee *Tamora* for my Bride,
And will Create thee Empresse of Rome.

Speake Queene of Gothes doft thou applau'd my choyfe?
And heere I fweare by all the Romaine Gods,
Sith Prieft and Holy-water are fo neere,
And Tapers burne fo bright, and euery thing
In readines for *Hymeneus* stand,

I will not refalute the freets of Rome,
Or clime my Pallace,till from forth this place,
I leade eſpouſ'd my Bride along with me,

Tamo. And heere in fight of heauen to Rome I ſweare,
If *Saturnine* aduance the Queen of Gothes,
Shee will a Hand-maid be to his deſires,
A louing Nurſe, a Mother rohis youth.

Sat. Ascend Faire Queene,
Panthean Lords, accompany

Your Noble Empereu and his louely Bride,
Sent by the heauens for Prince *Saturnine*,
Whose wifedome hath her Fortune Conquered,
There ſhall we Confummate our Spouſall rites.

Exequent onnes.

Tit. I am not bid to waite vpon this Bride:
Titus when wer't thou want to walke alone,
Difhonoured thus and Challenged of wrongs?

Enter Marcias and Titus Sonnes.

Mar. O Titus ſee! O ſee what thou haſt done!
In a bad quarrell, ſlaine a Vertuous ſonne.

Tit. No foolish Tribune, no: No ſonne of mine,
Nor thou, nor theſe Confedrates in the deed,
That hath diſhonoured all our Family,
Vnworthy brother, and vnworthy Sonnes.

Luci. But let vs give him buriall as b: comes:
Gie Mutius buriall with our Bretheren.

Tit. Traytors away, he reſt's not in this Tombe:
This Monument ſive hundreth yeares hath ſtood,
Which I haue Sumptuouſly re-edified:
Heere none but Souldiers, and Romes Seruitors,
Repofe in Fame: None basely ſlaine in braules,
Bury him where you can, he comes not heere,

Mar. My Lord this is impiety in you,
My Nephew Mutius deeds do plead for him,
He muſt be buried with his bretheren.

Titus two Sonnes ſpeakes.

And ſhall, or him we will accompany.

Tis. And ſhall! What villaine was it ſpake that word?

Titus ſonne ſpeakes.

He that would vouch'd it in any place but heere.

Tit. What would you bury him in my deſpight?

Mar. No Noble Titus, but intreat of thee,

To pardon Mutius, and to bury him.

Tit. Marcus, Even thou haſt ſroke vpon my Creft,
And with theſe Boyes mine Honour thou haſt wounded,
My foes I doe repute you euery one.

So trouble me no more, but get you gone.

T. Sonne. He is not himſelfe, let vs withdraw.

2. Sonne. Not I tell Mutius bones be buried.

The Brother and the ſonnes kneele.

Mar. Brother, for in that name doth nature plea'd.

2. Sonne. Father, and in that name doth nature ſpeak:
Tit. Speake thou no more if all the reſt will ſpeake.

Mar. Renowned Titus more then halfe my ſoule.

Luc. Deare Father, ſoule and ſubſtance of vs all.

Mar. Suffer thy brother Marcus to interre

His Noble Nephew heere in vertues neſt,
That died in Honour and *Launia's* cauſe,

Thou art a Romaine, be not barbarous:

The Greekes vpon aduife did bury *Aiax*

That flew himſelfe: And *Laertes* ſonne,

Did graciously plead for his Funerals :

Let not young *Mutius* then that was thy ioy,
Be bar'd his entrance heere.

Tit. Rife Marcus, rife,

The diſmall'ſt day is this that ere I ſaw,
To be diſhonored by my Sonnes in Rome:
Well, bury him, and bury me the next.

They put him in the Tombe.

Luc. There lie thy bones ſweet *Mutius* with thy
Till we with Trophees do adorne thy Tombe. (friends
Theye all kneele and ſay.)

No man ſhed teares for Noble *Mutius*,
He liues in Fame, that di'd in vertues caufe.

Exit.

Mar. My Lord to ſtep out of theſe ſudden dumps,
How comes it that the ſubtle Queene of Gothes,
Is of a ſodaine thus aduanc'd in Rome?

T. I know not *Marcus*: but I know it is,
(Whether by deuife or no) the heauens can rell,
Is the not then beholding to the man,
That brought her for this high good turne ſo farre,
Yes, and will Nobly him remunerate.

Flourish.

Enter the Emperor, *Tamora*, and her two ſons, with the Moore at one doore. Enter at the other doore *Bafianus* and *Launia* with others.

Sat. So *Bafianus*, you haue plaid your prize,
God giue you ioy fir of your Gallant Bride.

Baf. And you of yours my Lord: I ſay no more,
Nor wiſh no leſſe, and ſo I take my leaue.

Sat. Traytor, if Rome haue law, or we haue power,
Thou and thy Faſtion ſhall repent this Rape.

Bafs. Rape call you it my Lord, to ceaſe my owne,
My true betrothed Loue, and now my wife ?
But let the lawes of Rome, determine all,
Meane while I am poſſeſt of that is mine.

Sat. 'Tis good fir: you are very ſhort with vs,
But if we liue, weele be as farpe with you.

Bafs. My Lord, what I haue done as belt I may,
Anſwere I muſt, and ſhall do with my life,
Onely thus much I giue your Grace to know,
By all the duties that I owe to Rome,

This Noble Gentleman Lord Titus heere,
Is in opinion and in honour wrong'd,

That in the reſcue of *Launia*,
With his owne hand did ſlay his youngeſt Son,
In zeale to you, and highly mou'd to wrath.

To be controuſ'd in that he frankly gaue:

Receiue him then to ſaurour *Saturnine*,
That hath expreſ't himſelfe in all his deeds,

A Father and a friend to thee, and Rome.

Tit. Prince *Bafianus* leaue to plead my Deeds,
'Tis thou, and thofe, that haue diſhonoured me,
Rome and the righteous heauens be my iudge,
How I haue lou'd and Honour'd *Saturnine*.

T. My worthy Lord if euer *Tamora*,

Were

35

Were gracious in those princely eyes of thine,
Then heare me speake indifferently for all:
And at my fute (sweet) pardon what is paſt.
Satu. What Adam, be difhonoured openly,
And basely put it vp without reuenge?
Tam. Not so my Lord,

The Gods of Rome for-fend,
I should be Authour to difhonour you.

But on mine honour dare, I vndertake
For good Lord Titus innocence in all:

Whole fury not diffembled speakes his griefes:
Then at my fute looke graciously on him,
Loose not so noble a friend on vaine fuppofe,
Nor with fowre lookes affliet his gentle heart.
My Lord, be tull'd by me, be wonne at laſt,
Diffemble all your griefes and discontents,
You are but newly planted in your THRONE,
Leaſt then the people, and Patricians too,
Vpon a iuſt future take Titus part,
And ſupplant vs for ingratitudine,

Yeeld at intreats, and then let me alone:

Ile finde a day to maſſacre them all,
And race their ſaction, and their familie,

The cruell Father, and his trayt'rous ſonnes,
To whom I ſued for my deare ſonnes life.
And make them know what 'tis to let a Queene,

Kneele in the streetes, and beg for grace in vaine.
Come, come, ſweet Emperour, (come Andronicus)

Take vp this good old man, and cheere the heart,
That dies in tempeſt of thy angry frowne.

King. Rife Titus, rife,

My Empresse hath preuail'd.

Titus. I thanke your Maieſtie,

And her my Lord.

These words, these looks,  
Infuse new life in me.

Tamo. Titus, I am incorporate in Rome,

A Roman now adopted happily.

And muſt aduife the Emperour for his good,
This day all quarrels die Audronicus.

And let it be mine honour good my Lord,
That I haue reconcil'd your friends and you.

For you Prince Baffianus, I haue paſt

My word and promife to the Emperour,
That you will be more milde and traſtable.

And feare not Lords :

And you Laninia,

By my aduife all humbled on your knees,

You ſhall aske pardon of his Maieſtie.

Son. We doe,

And vow to heauen, and to his Highnes,
That what we did, was mildly, as we might,

Tendring our fifters honour and our owne.

Mar. That on mine honour heere I do proteſt.

King. Away and talke not, trouble vs no more.

Tamora. Nay, ney,

Sweet Emperour, we muſt all be friends,

The Tribune and his Nephews kneele for grace,

I will not be denied, (sweet hart) looke back.

King. Marcus,

For thy take and thy brothers heree,

And at my louely Tamora's intreats,

I doe remit theſe young mens haynous faults.

Stand vp: Laninia, though you left me like a churle,
I found a friend, and ſure as death I iware,

I would not part a Batchellour from the Prieſt.

Come, if the Emperours Court can ſeaf't two Brides,

You are my gueſt Laninia, and your friends:

This day ſhall be a Loue-day Tamora.

Tit. To morrow and it prieſe your Maieſtie,

To hunt the Panther and the Hart with me,

With horne and Hound,

Weele give your Grace Bon iour,

Satur. Be it so Titus, and Gramercy to.

Exeunt.

Aetus Secunda.

Flourish.

Enter Aaron alone.

Aron. Now climbeth Tamora Olympus toppe,

Safe out of Fortunes ſhot, and fits aloft,

Secure of Thunders cracke or lightning flash,

Aduanc'd about pale enuies threatening reach:

As when the golden Sunne ſalutes the mornè,
And hauing gilt the Ocean with his beames,

Gallops the Zodiacke in his gleſtering Coach,

And ouer-looks the highest piling hills:

So Tamora:

Vpon her wit doth earthly honour waite,

And verue ſtoopes and trembles to her frowne.

Then Aaron arme thy hart, and fit thy thoughts,

To mount aloft with thy Emperiall Miftris,

And mount her pitch, whom thou in triuempt long

Haſt prifoner held, fetted in amorous chains,
And faſter bound to Aarons charming eyes,

Then is Prometheus ti'd to Caucaſus.

Away with ſlauiſh weedes, and idle thoughts,

I will be bright and ſhine in Pearle and Gold,

To waite vpon this new made Empresse.

To waite said I ? To wanton with this Queene,

This Goddeſſe, this Semerimis, this Queene,

This Syren, that will charme Romes Saturnine,

And fee his ſhipwracke, and his Common weales,

Hollo, what ſorme is this?

Enter Chiron and Demetrius brauing.

Dem. Chiron thy yeres wants wit, thy wit wants edge

And manners to intru'd where I am grac'd,

And may for ought thou know'ſt affected be.

Chi. Demetrius, thou doo'ſt ouer-weene in all,

And ſo in this, to beare me downe with braues,

'Tis not the difference of a yeere or two

Makes me leſſe gracious, or the ſore more fortunate :

I am as able, and as fit, as thou,

To ferue, and to deferue my Miftris grace,

And that my ſword vpon thee ſhall approue,

And plead my paffions for Laninia's loue.

Aron. Clubs, clubs, these ſouers will not keep the peace.

Dem. Why Boy, although our mother (vnaduſed)

Gaue you a daunſing Rapier by your ſide,

Are you ſo desperate growne to threat your friends?

Goe too: haue your Lath glued within your ſheath,
Till you know better how to handle it.

Chi. Meane while fir, with the little skill I haue,

Full well ſhalt thou perceiue how much I dare.

Deme. I Boy, grow ye ſo braue ?

They drawe.

Aron. Why how now Lords?

So nere the Emperours Pallace dare you draw,

And

And maintaine such a quartrell openly?

Full well I wot, the ground of all this grudge.
I would not for a million of Gold,

The caufe were knowne to them it moft concernes.

Nor would your noble mother for much more
Be so diſhonored in the Court of Rome:

For ſhame put vp.

Deme. Not I, till I haue ſh馀e'd

My rapier in his boſome, and withall

Thruſt theſe reprochfull ſpeeches downe his throat,
That he hath breath'd in my diſhonour heere.

Chi. For that I am prepar'd, and full refolu'd,

Foule ſpoken Coward,

That thundreſt with thy tongue,

And with thy weapon nothing darſt performe.

Aron. A way I ſay.

Now by the Gods that warlike Gothes adore,
This pretty brabble will vndoo vs all:

Why Lords, and thinke you not how dangerous
It is to fet vpon a Princes right?

What is Lauinſis then become so looſe,

Or Bafſianus to degenerate,

That for her loue ſuch quarrels may be broacht,

Without controulement, Iuſtice, or reuence?

Young Lords beware, and ſhould the Emprefſe know,
This diſcard ground, the muſſicke would not plearſe.

Chi. I care not I, knew ſhe and all the world,

I loue Lauinſis more then all the world.

Demet. Youngling,

Leanne thou to make ſome meaner choife,

Lauinſis is thine elder brothers hope.

Aron. Why are ye mad ? Or know ye not in Rome,
How furious and impatient they be,

And cannot brooke Competitors in loue?

I tell you Lords, you doe but plot your deaths,
By this deuife.

Chi. Aaron, a thousand deaths would I propose,

To atchieue her whom I do loue.

Aron. To atchieue her, how?

Deme. Why, mak'ſt thou it ſo ſtrange?

Shee is a woman, therefore may be woo'd,

Shee is a woman, therefore may be wonne,

Shee is Lauinſis therefore muſt be lou'd.

What man, more water glideth by the Mill

Then wots the Miller of, and eafie it is

Of a cut loaſe to ſteale a ſhuite we know:

Though Bafſianus be the Emperours brother,

Better then he haue worne Vulpans badge.

Aron, I, and as good as Saturnius may.

Deme. Then why should he diſpaire that knowes to

With words, faire lookes, and liberality: (court it

What haſt not thou full ofen strucke a Doe,

And borne her cleanly by the Keepers noſe?

Aron. Why then it ſeemes ſome certaine ſnatch or ſo

Would ſerue your turnes.

Chi. I, ſo the turne were ſerued.

Deme. Aaron thon haſt hit it.

Aron. Would you had hit it too,

Then ſhould not we be tir'd with this adoo:

Why harke yee, harke yee, and sre you ſuch fooles,

To ſquare for this? Would it offend you then ?

Chi. Faith not me.

Deme. Not me, ſo I were one.

Aron. For ſhame be friends, & ioyne for that you iar:
'Tis pollicie, and ſtratageme muſt doe

That you affect, and ſo muſt you refolu,

That what you cannot as you would atchieue,
You muſt perſence accomplish as you may:

Take theſe of me, Luccace was not more chaf't

Then this Lauinſis, Bafſianus loue,

A ſpeedier course this lingring languifhment

Muſt we purſue, and I haue found the path:

My Lords, a ſolemne hunting is in hand,

There will the louely Roman Ladies troope:

The Forreſt walkes are wide and ſpacious,

And many vnſrequented plots there are,

Fitted by kinde for rape and villanie:

Single you thither then this dainty Doe,

And ſtrike her home by force, if not by words:

This way or not at all, ſtand you in hope,

Come, come, our Emprefſe with her ſacred wit

To villanie and vengance confecrate,

Will we acquaint with all that we intend,

And ſhe ſhall file our engines with aduife,

That will not ſuffer you to ſquare your ſelues,

But to your wifhes height aduance you both.

The Emperours Court is like the house of Fame,

The pallace full of tongues, of eyes, of earſes:

The Woods are ruthleſſe, dreadful, deafe, and dull:

There ſpeake, and ſtrike braue Boyes, & take your turnes,

There ſerue your luſts, ſhadow'd from heauens eye,

And reuell in Lauinſis Treſur ie.

Chi. Thy counſell Lad ſmells of no cowardife,

Deme. Sy ſus ant uſeas, till I finde the ſtreames,

To coole this heat, a Charme to calme their fits,

Per ſtigia per manes Vehor.

Exeunt.

Enter Titus Andronicus and his three ſonnes, making a noſſuſ
with hounds and hornes, and Marcus.

Tit. The hunt is vp, the morne is bright and gray,
The fields are fragrant, and the Woods are greene,
Vncouple heere, and let vs make a bay,
And wake the Emperour, and his ſuly Bride,
And rouze the Prince, and ring a hunters peale,
That all the Court may eccho with the noyſe.

Sonnes let it be your charge, as it is ours,
To attend the Emperours perſon carefully:

I haue bene troubled in my ſleep this night,

But dawning day new comfort hath inſpir'd.

Winde Hornes.
Heere a cry of boundes, and winds hornes in a peale, then
Enter Saturninus, Tamora, Bafſianus, Lauinſis, Chiron, Dmetrius, and their Attendants.

Ti. Many good morrowes to your Maieſtie,
Madam to you as manyand as good.
I promised my Grace, a Hunters peale.

Satur. And you haue rung it luſtily my Lords,
Somewhat to earely for new married Ladies,

Bafs. Lauinſis, how ſay you?

Laui. I ſay no:
I haue bene awake two hours and more.

Satur. Come on then, horſe and Chariots let vs haue,
And to our ſport: Madam, now ſhall ye ſee,
Our Romaine hunting.

Mar. I haue dogges my Lord,
Will rouze the proudeſt Panther in the Chafe,
And clime the highest Pomontary top.

Tit. And I haue horſe will follow where the game
Makes way, and runnes likes Swallowes ore, the plane
Deme. Chiron

37

Deme. Chiron we hunt not we, with Horfe nor Hound
But hope to plucke a dainty Doe to ground.
Exenunt

Enter Aaron alone.

Aron. He that had wit, would thinke that I had none,
To bury so much Gold vnder a Tree,
And neuer after to inherit it.

Let him that thinks of me so abieously,
Know that this Gold muft coine a stratageme,
Which cunningly effected, will beget

A very excellent peee of villany :

And to repose sweet Gold for their vnreft,
That haue their Almes out of the Empresse Cheft.

Enter Tamora to the Moore.

Tamora. My lonely Aaron,
Wherefore look it thou fad,
When euery thing doth make a Gleefull boasft ?

The Birds chaunt melody on euery bush,

The Snake lies rolled in the chearefull Sunne,

The Greene leaues quier with the cooling winde,

And make a cheker'd shadow on the ground :

Vnder their sweete shade, e Aaron let vs fit,

And whil'st the babling Echoe mock's the Hounds,

Replying shrilly to the well tun'd-Hornes,

As if a double hunt were heard at once,

Let vs fit downe, and marke their yelping noyse :

And after conflict, such as was fuppос'd.

The wandring Prince and Dido once enioy'd,

When with a happy ſtorme they were surpris'd,

And Curtain'd with a Counſaile-keeping Caue,

We may each wreathed in the others armes,

(Our paſtimes done) poſſeſſe a Golden slumber,

Whiles Hounds and Hornes, and sweet Melodious Birds

Be vnto vs, as is a Nurſes Song

Of Lullabie, to bring her Babe aſſleepe.

Aron. Madame,

Though Venus gouere your deſires,

Saturne is Dominator ouer mine :

What ſignifies my deadly ſtanding eye,

My ſilence, and my Cloudy Melancholie,

My ſleece of Woolly haire, that now vncurles,

Euen as an Adder: when he doth vnrowle

To do fome fatall execution ?

No Madam, theſe are no Veneriall ſignes,

Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand,

Blood, and reuenge, are Hammering in my head.

Harke Tamora, the Empresse of my Soule,

Which neuer hopes more heauen then reſts in thee,

This is the day of Doome for Baffanus;

His Philomel muſt looke her tongue to day,

Thy Sonnes make Pillage of her Chaſticey,

And waſh their hands in Bafflans blood.

Seeſt thou this Letter, take it vp I pray thee,

And giue the King this fatall plotted Scrowle,

Now queſtion me no more, we are eſpied,

Heere comes a parcell of our hopefull Booty's

Which dreads not yet their liues deſtruction

Enter Baffanus and Lauinia.

Tamora. Ah my sweete Moore:
Sweeter to me then life.

Aron. No more great Empresse, Baffanus comes,
Be croſſe with him, and Hee goe fetch thy Sonnes

To backe thy quarrell what ſoere they be.

Baffi. Whom haue we here?

Romes Royall Empresse,

Vnfurniſht of our well beſeeming troope?

Or is it Dian habited like her,

Who hath abandoned her holy Groues,

To fee the generall Hunting in this Forreſt?

Tamora. Sawcie controuler of our private ſteps:

Had I the power, that ſome ſay Dian had,

Thy Temples ſhould be planted prefentely.

With Hornes, as was Aleons, and the Hounds

Should diue vpon his new transformed limbes,
Vnnamuerly Intruder as thou art.

Lani. Vnder your patience gentle Empresse,
'Tis thought you haue a goodly gift in Horning,

And to be doubted, that your Moore and you

Are flangled forth to try experiments :

Ione ſhield your husband from his Hounds to day,

Tis pitty they should take him for a Stag.

Baffi. Belceue me Queene, your ſwarth Cymerion,

Doth make your Honour of his bodies Hue,

Spotted, deſtoſed, and abhominable.

Why are you ſequeſtred from all your traine ?

Dismounted from your Snow-white goodly Steed,

And wandred hither to an obſcure plot,

Accompanied with a barbarous Moore,

If foule desire had not conducted you?

Lani. And being intercepted in your ſport,

Great reaſon that my Noble Lord, be rated

For Saucineſſe, I pray you let vs hence,

And let her ioy her Rauen coloured loue,

This valley fits the purpose paffing well.

Baffi. The King my Brother ſhall haue notice of this.

Lani. I, for theſe flips haue made him noted long,

Good King, to be so mightely abufed.

Tamora. Why I haue patience to endure all this?

Enter Chiron and Demetrius.

Dem. How now decre Soueraigne

And our gracious Mother,

Why doth your Highnes looke so pale and wan?

Tamora. Haue I not reaſon thinke you to looke pale.

Theſe two haue tic'd me hither to this place,

A barren, deſtoſed vale you ſee it is.

The Trees though Sommer, yet forlorne and leane,

Ore-come with Moſſe, and baleful Miſſelto.

Heere neuer ſhines the Sunne, heere nothing breeds,

Vnleſſe the nightly Owle, or fatall Rauen :

And when they ſhew'd me this abhorred pit,

They told me heere at dead time of the night,

A thouſand Fien'ds, a thouſand huffing Snakes,

Ten thouſand ſwelling Toades, as many Vrchins,

Would make such ſcarefull and confuſed cries,

As any mortall body hearing it,

Should ſtraite fall mad, or eſſe die suddenly.

No ſooner had they told this heliſh tale,

But ſtrait they told me they would binde me heere,

Vnto the body of a diſmall yew,

And leaue me to this miſerable death.

And then they call'd me foule Adultereffe,

Laſciuious Goth, and all the bitterſt tearmes

That euer eare did heare to ſuch effect.

And had you not by wondrous fortune come,

This vengeance on me had they executed :

Reuenge it, as you loue your Mothers life,

Or be ye not henceforth call'd my Children,

Dem. This is a witt ſeſſe that I am thy Sonne. ſtab him.

Chi. And this for me,

Stook home to ſhow my ſtrength.

Lani. I come Semeramis, may Barbarous Tamora.

dd

For

For no name fits thy nature but thy owne.

Tam. Gie me thy poyniard, you shall know my boyes

Your Mothers hand shall right your Mothers wrong.

Deme. Stay Madam heere is more belongs to her,
Firft thraff the Corne, then after burne the traw:
This Minion food vpon her chaflity,
Vpon her Nuptiall vow, her loyalty.

And with that painted hope, braues your Mightinesse,
And shall she carry this vnto her graue?

Chi. And if she doe,
I would I were an Eunuch,

Drag hence her husband to some secret hole,
And make his dead Trunke-Pillow to our luft.

Tamo. But when ye haue the hony we defire,
Let not this Wisp out-lie vs both to fling.

Chir. I warrant you Madam we will make that fure:
Come Miftis, now perforce we will enjoy,
That nice-preferued honefly of yours.

Laui. Oh Tamora, chou bear't a woman face,

Tamo. I will not heare her speake, away with her.

Laui. Sweet Lords intreat her heare me but a word.

Demet. Liren faire Madam, let it be your glory

To fee her teares, but be your hart to theu,
As vnrelenting flint to drops of raine.

Lavi. When did the Tigers young-ones teach the dam?

O doe not learne her wrath, she taught it thee,
The milke thou fuckt from her did turne to Marble,
Euen at thy Teat thou hadst thy Tyranny,
Yet euery Mother breeds not Sonnes alike,
Do thou intreat her fewh a woman pitty.

Chiro. What,

Would'ft thou haue me proue my selfe a baftard?

Lavi. 'Tis true,

The Rauen doth not hatch a Larke,
Yet haue I heard, Oh could I finde it now,

The Lion mou'd with pitty, did indure

To haue his Princely pawes par'd all away.

Some fay, that Rauens foster forlorne children,
The whilft their owne birds famifh in their neifs :

Oh be to me though thy hard hart fay no,

Nothing fo kind but something pittifull.

Tamo. I know not what it meanes, away with her.

Lavi. Oh let me teach thee for my Fathers fale,

That gaue thee life when well he might haue flaine thee:
Be not obdurate, open thy deafe eares.

Tamo. Had'ft thou in perſon nere offended me.

Euen for his ſake am I pittileſſe:

Remember Boyes, I pow'd forth teares in vaine,

To faue your brother from the sacrifice,

But fierce Andronicus would not relent,

Therefore away with her, and vſe her as you will,
The worſe to her, the better lou'd of me.

Lavi. Oh Tamora,

Be call'd a gentle Queene,

And with thine owne hands kill me in this place,

For 'tis not life that I haue beg'd so long,
Poore I was flaine, when Baſſianus dy'd.

Tam. What beg it thou then ? fond woman let me go?

Lavi. 'Tis preſent death I beg, and one thing more,

That womanhood denies my tongue to tell :

Oh keepe me from their worſe then killing luſt,

And tumble me into some loathsome pit,

Where neuer man's eye may behold my body,

Doe this, and be a charitable murderer.

Tam. So should I rob my SWEET Sonnes of their fee,
No let them satisfie their luſt on thee.

Deme. Away,

For thou haſt thaid vs heere too long,

Lavinia. No Garace,

No womanhood? Ah beaſly creature,

The blot and enemy to our generall name,
Confusion fall—

Chi. Nay then Ile stop your mouth
Bring thou her husband,

This is the Hole where Aaron bid vs hide him,

Tam. Farewell my Sonnes, ſee that you make her lute,
Nere let my heart know merry cheere indeed,
Till all the Andronici be made away:

Now will I hence to feefe my louely Moore,

And let my ſpleenefull Sonnes this Trull defoure.

Enter Aaron with two of Titus Sonnes.

Aron. Come on my Lords, the better foot before,
Straight will I bring you to thelothome pit,
Where I eſpied the Panther haſt aſleepe.

Quin. My fight is very dull what ere it bodes.

Marti. And mine I promife you, were it not for ſhame,
Well could I leaue our iport to ſleepe a while.

Quin. What art thou fallen?

What subtilè Hole is this,

Whofe muth is couered with Rude growing Briers,
Vpon whole leaues are drops of new-fled-blood,
As fresh as mornings dew dilſt'd on flowers,
A very ſatall place it feemes to me:

Speake Brother haſt thou hurt thee with the fall?

Martius. Oh Brother,

With the diſmal ſt obieſt

That euer eye with fight made heart lament,

Aron. Now will I fetch the King to finde them heere,
That the thereby may haue a likely geſſe,

How theſe were they that made away his Brother.

Exit Aaron.

Marti. Why doſt not comfort me and helpe me on,
From this vnhalow'd and blood-stained Hole?

Quintus. I am surpited with an vncoth feare,
A chilling Iweat ore-runs my trembling loynts,
My heart ſupſects more then mine eie can fee,

Marti. To proue thou haſt a true diuining heart,
Aaron and thou looke downe into this den,
And fee a ſearefull fight of blood and death.

Quintus. Aaron is gone,

And my compassionate heart

Will not permit mine eyes once to behold

The thing whereat it trembles by ſurmife:

Oh tell me how it is, for nere till now

Was I a child, to ſeare I know not what?

Marti. Lord Baſſianus lies embrewed heere,
All on a heape like to the ſlaughtred Lambe;
In this detested, darke, blood-drinking pit,

Quin. If it be darke, how dooft thou know it?

Mart. Vpon his bloody finger he doth weare
A precious Ring, that lightens all the Hole:

Which like a Taper in ſome Monument,

Doth ſhine vpon the dead mans earthly cheekes,
And ſhewes the ragged intrailes of the pit:

So pale did ſhine the Moone on Piramus,

When he by night lay bath'd in Maiden blood

O Brother helpe me with thy painting hand,

If ſcare hath made thee faint asme it hath,

Out of this ſell devouring receptacle,

As hatefull as Ocitus on the mouth.

Quint. Reach me thy hand, that I may helpe thee ouer

39

Or wanting strength to doe thee so much good,
Imay be pluckt into the swallowing wombe,
Of this deepe pit, poore Bafſianus graue:
I haue no strength to plucke thee to the brinke.

Martius. Nor I no strength to clime without thy help.

Quin. Thy hand once more, I will not looke againe,
Till thou art heere aloft, or I below,
Thou canst not come to me, I come to thee. Boths fall in.

Enter the Emperour, Aaron the Moore.

Satyr. Along with me, Hee see what hole is heere,
And what he is that now is leapt into it.
Say, who art thou that lately did it descend,
Into this gaping hollow of the earth?

Marti. The vnhappie ſonne of old Andronicus,
Brought hither in a mol vnluckie houre,
To finde thy brother Bafſianus dead.

Satyr. My brother dead? I know thou doſt not leſt iſt,
He and his Lady both are at the Lodge,
Upon the North-ſide of this pleafant Chafe,
Tis not an houre ſince I left him there.

Marti. We know not where you left him all alie,
But out alas, heere haue we found him dead.

Enter Tamora, Andronicus, and Lucius.

Tamora. Where is my Lord the King?

King. Heere Tamora, though grieu'd with killing griefe.

Tam. Where is thy brother Bafſianus?

King. Now to the bottome doſt thou ſearch my wound,
Poore Bafſianus heere lies murthered.

Tam. Then all too late I bring this fatall writ,
The complot of this timeleſſe Tragedie,
And wonder greatly that mans face can fold,
Unpleasing ſmiles ſuch murderous Tyrannie.

She gieth Saturnine a Letter.

Saturninus reads the Letter.

And if we miffè to meete him haffomely,
Sweet huntſman, Bafſianus 'tis we meane,
Doe thou ſo much as dig the graue for him,
Thou know'st if our meaning looks for thy reward
Among the Nettles at the Elder tree:
Which ouer-haues the mouth of that fame pit :
Where we decreed to bury Bafſianus
Doe this and purchase vs thy laſting friends.

King. Oh Tamora, was euer heard the like ?
This is the pit, and this the Elder tree,
Looke firſ, if you can find the huntſman out,
That should haue murthered Bafſianus heere.

Aron. My gracious Lord heere is the bag of Gold.

King. Two of thy whelpes, ſell Curs of bloody kind
Haue heere bereſt my brother of his life:

Sirs drag them from the pit vnto the prifon,
There let them bide vntill we haue deuis'd
Some neuer heard of tortering paine for them.

Tamora. What are they in this pit,

Oh wondrous thing !

How easily murder is diſcouered?

Tit. High Emperour, vpon my feeble knee,
Ibeg this boone, with teares, not lightly ſhed,
That this ſell fault of my accurſed Sonnes,
Accurſed, if the faults be prou'd in them.

King. If it be prou'd ? you fee it is apparant,

Who found this Letter, Tamora was it you?

Tamora. Andronicus himselfe did take it vp.

Tit. I did my Lord,
Yet let me be their baile.

For by my Fathers reuerent Tombe I vow
They shall be ready at your Highnes will,
To anſwere their ſuſpition with their lives.

King. Thou haſt not baile them, fee thou follow me:
Some bring the murthered body, some the murtherers,
Let them not ſpeake a word, the guilt is plaine,
For by my ſoulc, were there worſe end then death,
That end vpon them ſhould be executed.

Tamora. Andronicus I will entreat the King,
Feare not thy Sonnes, they ſhall do well enough.

Tit. Come Lucius come,
Stay not to talke with them.

Excuse.

Enter the Empresse Sonnes, with Lavinia, her hands cut off and her tongue cut out, and rauſht.

Deme. So now goe tell and if thy tongue can ſpeake,
Who 'twas that cut thy tongue and rauſht thee.

Chi. Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning ſo,
And if thy flumpes will let thee play the Scribe.

Dem. See how with ſignes and tokens ſhe can ſcowle.

Chi. Goe home,
Call for ſweet water, waſh thy hands.

Dem. She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to waſh.

And for let's leaue her to her ſilent walkes.

Chi. And 'twere my cauſe, I should eſe hang my ſelſe.

Dem. If thou had't hands to helpe thee knit the cord.

Excuse.

Winde Hornet.

Enter Marcus from hunting to Lavinia.

Who is this, my Neece that flies away ſo faſt ?
Cofen a word, where is your husband ?

If I do dreame, would all my wealth would wake me;
If I doe wake, ſome Planet strike me downe,
That I may flumber in eternall sleepe.

Speake gentle Neece, what ſterne vngentle hands

Hath lopt, and hew'd, and made thy body bare
Of her two branches, that ſweet Ornaments

Whose cireckling ſhadowes, Kings haue fought to sleep in
And might not gaine ſo great a happines

As halſe thy Loue : Why doſt not ſpeake to me?

Alas, a Crimſon riuer of warme blood,
Like to a bubling ſountaine ſin'd with winde,
Doth rife and fall betweene thy Roſed lips,
Comming and going with thy hony breath.

But ſure ſome Teres hath defloured thee,
And leaſt thou ſhould'ſt dereſt them, cut thy tongue.

Ah, now thou turn't away thy face for ſhame:

And notwithstanding all this loſſe of blood,

As from a Conduit with their iſſuing Spouts,
Yet doe thy cheekes looke red as Titans ſace,

Bluſhing to be encounter'd with a Cloud,
Shall I ſpeake for thee ? ſhall I ſay 'tis ſo ?
Oh that I knew thy hart, and knew the beaſt
That I might raile at him to caſe my mind.

Sorrow concealed, like an Ouen ſtopt,

Doth burne the hart to Cinders where it is.

Faire Philomela ſhe but loft her tongue,
And in a tedious Sampler ſowed her minde.

But lovely Neece, that meane is cut from thee,
A craftier Teres haſt thou met withal,

And he hath cut those pretty ſingers off,

dd 2

That

40

That could haue better fowed then Philomel.
Oh had the monfter feene thofe Lilly hands,
Tremble like Aspen leaues vpon a Lute,
And make the fikken strings delight to kiffe them,
He would not then haue toucht them for his life.
Or had he heard the heauenly Harmony,
Whic h that sweet tongue hath made:
He would haue dropt his knife and fell afleepe,
As Cerberus at the Thracian Poets feete.
Come, let vs goe, and make thy father blinde,
For fuch a fight will blinde a fathers eye.
One hours ſtorme will drowne the fragrant meades,
What, will whole months of teares thy Fathers eyes?
Doe not draw backe, for we will mourne with thee:
Oh could our mourning eafe thy misery.

Exeunt

## Actus Tertius.

Enter the Indiges and Senatours with Titus two fonnes bound,
paffing on the Stage to the place of execution, and Titus going
before pleading.

Ti. Heare me graue fathers, noble Tribunes flay,
For pitry of mine age, whofe youth was ſpent
In dangerous warres, whilft you securely flept:
For all my blood in Romes great quarrell ſhed,
For all the frofty nights that I haue watcht,
And for theſe bitter teares, which now you ſee,
Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheekes,
Be pittifull to my condemned Sonnes,
Whofe foules is not corrupted as 'tis thought:
For two and twenty fonnes I neuer wept,
Becaufe they died in honours lofty bed.

Andronicus lyeth downe, and the Indiges paffe by him.
For theſe, Tribunes, in the duſt I write
My hartes deepe languor, and my ſoules ſad teares:
Let my teares ſtanch the earths drie appetite.
My ſonnes sweet blood, will make it thame and bluſh:
O earth ! I will be friend thee more with raine
That ſhall diſtill from theſe two ancient ruines,
Then youthfull Aprill ſhall with all his ſhowres
In ſummers drought: Ile drop vpon thee ſill,
In Winter with warme teares Ile melt the ſnow,
And keepe erernall ſpring time on thy face,
So thou rerefu to drinke my deare ſonnes blood.

Exeunt

Enter Lucius, with his weapon drawne.

Oh reuerent Tribunes, oh gentle aged men,
Vnbinde my ſonnes, reuerle the doome of death,
And let me ſay (that neuer wept before)
My teares are now preualing Oratours.
Lu. Oh noble father, you lament in vaine,
The Tribunes heare not, no man is by,
And you recount your forrowes to a ſtone.

Ti. Ah Lucius for thy brothers let me plead,
Graue Tribunes, once more I intreat of you.
Lu. My gracious Lord, no Tribune heares you ſpeake.
Ti. Why 'tis no matter man, if they did heare
They would not marke me: oh if they did heare
They would not pitty me.
Therefore I tell my forrowes bootles to the ſtones.

Who though they cannot anſwere my diſtrefle,
Yet in ſome fort they are better then the Tribunes,
For that they will not intercept my tale;
When I doe weepe, they humbly at my feete
Receiue my teares, and ieme to weepe with me,
And were they but attired in graue weedes,
Rome could afford no Tribune like to theſe,
A ſtone is as soft waxe,
Tribunes more hard then ſtones:
Aſtone is ſilent, and offendeth not,
And Tribunes with their tongues doome men to death.
But wherefore ſtand'ft thou with thy weapon drawne?

Lu. To reſcue my two brothers from their death,
For which attempt the Iudges haue pronounc'd
My eerlaſting doome of banifhment.
Ti. O happy man, they haue befriended thee:
Why foolish Lucius, doſt thou not perceive
That Rome is but a wildernes of Tigers?
Tigers muſt pray, and Rome affords no prey:
But me and mine: how happy art thou then,
From theſe deuourers to be banifhed?
But who comes with our brother Marcus heere'd

Enter Marcus and Launinia.

Mar. Titus, prepare thy noble eyes to weepe,
Or if not ſo, thy noble heart to breake:
I bring confuming ſorrow to thine age.

Ti. Will it confume me ? Let me ſee it then.

Mar. This was thy daughter.

Ti. Why Marcus to ſhe is.

Luc. Ay me this obieſt kils me.

Ti. Faint-harted boy, arife and looke vpon her,
Speake Launinia, what accuſed hand
Hath made thee handleſſe in thy Fathers fight?
What foole hath added water to the Sea?
Or brought a faggot to bright burning Troy?
My griefe was at the height before thou cam't,
And now like Nylus it did aſtaineth bounds:
Giueme a ſword, Ile chop off my hands too,
For they haue fought for Rome, and all in vaine:
And they haue nur't this woe,
In feeding life:

In booteſſe prayer haue they bene held vp,
And they haue ſeru'd me to effect ſleſſe vſe.
Now all the ſeruice I require of them,
Is that the one will helpe to cut the other:
'Tis well Launinia, that thou haſt no hands,
For hands to do Rome ſeruice, is but vaine.

Luci. Speake gentle ſifter, who hath martyr'd thee?
Mar. O that delightfull engine of her thoughts,
That blab'd them with ſuch pleasing eloquence,
Is torne from forth that pretty hollow cage,
Where like a fweet mellodius bird it ſung,
Sweet varied notes inchanting euery care.
Luci. Oh ſay thou for her,
Who hath done this deed?
Mar. Oh thus I found her straying in the Parke,
Seeking to hide herſelfe as doth the Deare
That hath receiue dome vnrecurring wound.
Ti. It was my Deare,
And he that wounded her,
Hath hurt me more, then had he kild me dead:
For now I ſtand as one vpon a Rocke,
Inuiron'd with a wilderneſſe of Sea.
Who markes the waxing tide,
Grow wae by wae,

Expecting

41

Expecting euer when some enuious surge,
Will in his brinſh bowels swallow him.

This way to death my wretched fonnes are gone;
Heere stands my other ſonne,a banifht man,
And heere my brother weeping at my woes.
But that which gieues my ſoule the greatest ſpurne,
Is deere *Lauinia*,deerer then my ſoule.

Had I but feene thy picture in this plight,
It would haue maddè me. What ſhall I doe?

Now I behold thy liuel body ſo?

Thou haſt no hands to wipe away thy teares,

Nortongue to tell me who hath martyr'd thee?

Thy husband he is dead,and for his death

Thy brothers are condemn'd,and dead by this.

Looke *Marcus*,ah ſonne *Lucius* looke on her:
When I did name her brothers,then fresh teares

Stood on her cheekes,as doth the hony dew,

Vpon a gathred Lillie almost withered,

Mar. Perchance ſhe weepes becauſe they kil'd her husband,

Perchance becauſe ſhe knowes him innocent.

Ti. If they did kill thy husband then be ioyfull,
Because the law hath tane reuenge on them.
No, no, they would not do ſo ſoule a deede,
Wines the forrow that their fifter makes.

Gentle *Lauinia* let me kiffie thy lips,

Or make some ſignes how I may do thee eafe:

Shall thy good Vncle,and thy brother *Lucius*,

And thou and I fit round about ſome Fountaine.

Looking all downewards to behold our cheekes

How they are ſtain'd in meadowes, yet not dry

With miery ſlime left on them by a flood :

And in the Fountaine shall we gaze ſo long,

Till the fresh taſte be taken from that cleerenes,

And made a brine pit with our bitter teares ?

Or ſhall we cut away our hands like thine ?

Or ſhall we bite our tongues,and in dumbe ſhewes

Paſſe the remainder of our hatefull dayes?

What ſhall we doe ? Let vs that haue our tongues

Plot ſome deuife of further miferies

To make vs wondred at in time to come.

Lu. Sweet Father ceaſe your teares,for at your grieſe
See how my wretched ſ�bers fobs and weeps.

Mar. Patience deere Neece,good Titus drie thine
eyes.

Ti. Ah *Marcus*,*Marcus*,Brother well I wot,

Thy napkin cannot drinke a teare of mine,

For thou poore man haſt droun'd it with thine owne.

Lu. Ah my *Lauinia* I will wipe thy cheekes.

Ti. Marke *Marcus* marke,I vnderstand his ſignes,

Had ſhe a tongue to ſpeake,now would ſhe ſay

That to her brother which I faid to thee:

His Napkin with herrute teares all bewer,

Can do no ſeruice on her ſorrowfull cheekes.

Oh what a ſimpathy of woe is this!

As farre from helpe as Limbo is from bliffe,

Enter Aron the Moore alone.

Moore. Titus Andronicus,my Lord the Emperour,
Sends this word,that if thou loue thy ſonnes,
Let *Marcus*,*Lucius*,or thy ſelfe,old *Titus*,
Or any one of you,chop off your hand,
And ſend it to the King:he for the fame,
Will ſend thee hither both thy ſonnes aliue,
And that ſhall be the ranſome for their fault.

Ti. Oh gracious Emperour,oh gentle *Aaron*,
Did euer Rauen ſing to like a Larke,

That gieſes ſweet tydings of the Sunnes vprife?

With all my heart,Ile ſend the Emperour my hand,

Good *Aron* wilt thou help to chop it off?

Lu. Stay Father,for that noble hand of thine,

That hath throwne downe ſo many enemies,

Shall not be ſent: my hand will ſerue the turne,

My youth can better ſpare my blood then you,

And therfore mine shall ſaue my brothers liues.

Mar. Which of your hands hath not defended Rome,
And rear'd aloft the bloody Battleaxe,

Writing deſtruction on the enemies Castle?

Oh none of both but are of high defenſt:

My hand hath bin but idle,let it ſerue

To ranſome my two neſhewes from their death,

Then haue I kept it to a worthy end,

Moore. Nay come agree,whose hand ſhall goe along
For ſcare they die before their pardon come.

Mar. My hand ſhall goe.

Lu. By heauen it ſhall not goe.

Ti. Sirs ſtrike no more,fuch withered hearbs as theſe
Are meete for plucking vp,and therefore mine.

Lu. Sweet Father,if I ſhall be thought thy ſonne,
Let me redeeme my brothers both from death.

Mar. And for our fathers ſake,and mothers care,
Now let me ſhew a brothers loue to thee.

Ti. Agree betweene you,I will ſpare my hand.

Lu. Then Ile goe fetch an Axe.

Mar. But I will vſe the Axe.

Exeunt

Ti. Come hither *Aaron*,Ile deceive them both,
Lend me thy hand,and I will giue thee mine,

Moore. If that be cal'd deceit,I will be honest,
And neuer whil't I lieuede deceine men to:

But I lieuede you in another ſort,

And that you'l ſay ere halſe an houre paffe.

He cuts off Titus hand.

Enter *Lucius* and *Marcs* s againe.

Ti. Now ſay you ſtrife,what ſhall be, is dispatcht:
Good *Aron* giue his Maieſt me hand,
Tell him, it was a hand that warded him
From thouſand dangers: bid him bury it:

More hath it merited: That let it haue.

As for my ſonnes,ſay I account of them,

As iewels purcata at an eſſe price,

And yet deere too,becauſe I bought mine owne.

Aron. I goe Andronicus,and for thy hand,
Looke by and by to haue thy ſonnes with thee :
Their heads I meane: Oh how this villany
Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it.

Let fooles doe good,and faire men call for grace,
Aron will haue his ſoule blacke like his face.

Exit.

Ti. O heere I lift this one hand vp to heauen,
And bow this feeble ruine to the earth,
If any power pitties wretched teares,

To that I call: what wilt thou kneele with me ?

Doe then deare heart, for heauen ſhall heare our prayers,

Or with our fightes weele breath the welkin dimme,

And ſtaine the Sun with fogge as ſomtime cloudes,

When they do hug him in their melting boſomes.

Mar. Oh brother ſpeake with poffibilities,

And do not breake into theſe depe extreames.

Ti. Is not my ſorrow deepe,hauing no bottome?

dd3

Then

Then be my passions bottomlesse with them.

Mar. But yet let reason gouerne thy lament.

Titus. If there were reason for these miseries,

Then into limits could I binde my woes :

When heauen doth weepe, doth not the earth orflow ?
If the windes rage, doth not the Sea wax mad,
Threatning the welkin with his big-fwolne face?

And wilt thou have a reason for this coile ?

I am the Sea. Harke how her fighes doe flow :

Shee is the weeping welkin, I the earth:

Then muft my Sea be moned with her fighes,

Then muft my earth with her continuall teares,

Become a deluge : ouerflow'd and drown'd :

For why, my bowels cannot hide her woes,

But like a drunkard muft I vomit them:

Then gine me leaue, for loopers will haue leaue,

To eafe their stomackes with their bitter tongues,

Enter a meffenger with two heads and a hand.

Meff. Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid,
For that good hand thou fentst the Emperour :

Heere are the heads of thy two noble founes.

And heeres thy hand in ſcorne to thee ſent backe :
Thy griefes, their ſports : Thy resolution mockt,
That woe is me to thinke vpon thy woes,

More then remembrance of my fathers death.
Exit.

Marc. Now let hot Ærna coole in Cicilie,
And be my heart an euer-burning hell:

Theſe miferies are more then may be borne.

To weepe with them that weepe, doth eafe some deale,
But forrow flouted at, is double death.

Luci. Ah that this fight should make so deep a wound,
And yet dereſted life not ſhrinke thereat :
That euer death ſhould let life beare his name,
Where life hath no more intereſt but to breathe.

Mar. Alas poore hart that kiffe is comfortleſſe,
As frozen water to a flarued snake.

Titus. When will this feare ſull flumber haue an end ?

Mar. Now farwell flatterie, die Andronicus,

Thou doſt not flumber, ſee thy two ſons heads,
Thy warlike hands, thy mangled daughter here :

Thy other banifht fonnes with this decrede fight
Strucke pale and bloodleſſe, and thy brother I,
Euen like a ſtony Image, cold and numme.

Ah now no more will I controule my griefes,

Rent off thy filuer haire, thy other hand

Gnawing with thy teeth, and be this difmall fight

The cloſing vp of our moſt wretched eyes :

Now is a time to ſtorme, why art thou ſtill ?

Titus. Ha,ha,ha,

Mar. Why doſt thou laugh ? it fits not with this houre.

Ti. Why I haue not another teare to ſhed :

Besides, this ſorrow is an enemy,

And would ſurpe vpon my watry eyes,

And make them blinde with tributarie teares.

Then which way ſhall I finde Reuenges Gaue ?

For theſe two heads doe ſeeme to ſpeake to me,

And threat me, I ſhall neuer come to bliffe,

Till all theſe miferies be returned againe,

Euen in their throats that haue committed them.

Come let me ſee what taske I haue to doe,

You heauie people, circle me about,

That I may turne me to each one of you,

And ſweare into my foule to right your wrongs.

The vow is made, come Brother take a head,

And in this hand the other will I beare.

And Launinæ thou ſhalt be employd in theſe things:
Beare thou my hand ſweet wench betweene thy teeth:

As for thee boy, goe get thee from my fight,

Thou art an Exile, and thou muſt not flay,

Hie to the Gother, and raife an army there,

And if you loue me, as I thinke you doe,

Let's kiffe and part, for we haue much to doe.

Exeunt.

Manet Lucius.

Luci. Farewell Andronicus my noble Father :

The woful ſt man that euer liu'd in Rome:

Farewell proud Rome, til Lucius come againe,

Heloues his pledges dearer then his life:

Farewell Launinæ my noble fifter,

O would thou wert as thou to fore haſt beene,

But now, nor Lucius nor Launinæ liues

But in obliuion and hateful griefes :

If Lucius hue, he will requit your wrongs,

And make proud Saturnine and his Emprefle

Beg at the gates likes Tarquin and his Queene.

Now will I to the Gothes and raife a power,

To be reueng'd on Rome and Saturnine.

Exit Lucius.

A Brake.

Enter Andronicus, Marcus, Launinæ, and the Boy.

An. So, ſo, now fit, and looke you eat no more

Then will preferue iuſt so much ſtrength invs

As will reuenge theſt bitter woeſ of ours.

Marcus vnknit that ſorrow-wreathen knot :

Thy Neece and I (poore Creatures) want our hands

And cannot paſſionate our tenfold griefe,

With ſouléd Armes. This poore right hand of mine,

Is left to tirranize vppon my breast.

Who when my hart all mad with miſery,

Bears in this hollow prifon of my ſleſh,

Then thus I thumpe it downe.

Thou Map of woe, that thus doſt talk in ſignes,

When thy poore hart beates without raigous beating,
Thou canſt not ſtrike it thus to make it ſtill?

Wound it with fighting girle, kil it with grones :

Or get ſome little knife betweene thy teeth,

And iuſt againſt thy hart make thou a hole,

That all the teares that thy poore eyes let fall

May run into that finke, and foaking in,

Drowne the lamenting foole, in Sea ſalt teares.

Mar. Fy brother ſy, teach her not thus to lay
Such violent hands vppon her tender life.

An. How now ! Has ſorrow made thee doate already?

Why Marcus, no man ſhould be mad but I :

What violent hands can ſhe lay on her life :

Ah, wherefore doſt thou vrge the name of hands,

To bid Æneas tell the tale twice ore.

How Troy was burnt, and he made miſerables

O handle not the theame, to talke of hands,

Leaſt we remember ſill that we haue none,

Fie, ſie, how Frantiquely I ſquare my talke

As if we ſhould forget we had no hands :

If Marcus did not name the word of hands.

Come, lets fall too, and gentle girle eate this,

Heere is no drinke? Harke Marcus what ſhe faies,

I can interpret all her marti'd ſignes,

She faies, ſhe drinks no other drinke but teares

Breu'd with her ſorrow : meſh'd vppon her cheekes,

Speech.

43

Speechleſſe complayne, I will learne thy thought:
In thy dumb action, will I be as perfect

As begging Hermits in their holy prayers.

Thou halt not ſigne nor hold thy ſtumps to heauen,
Nor winke,nor nod,nor kneele,nor make a ſigne,
But I(of these) will wreſt an Alphabet,
And by full practice,learne to know thy meaning.

Boy. Good grandſire, leaue the ſe bitter deepe laments,
Make my Aunt merry, with ſome pleafing tale.

Mar. Alas, the tender boy in paffion mou'd,
Doth weepe to ſee his grandſires heauineſſe.

An. Peace tender Sapling,thou art made of teares,
And teares will quickly melt thy life away.

Marcus strikes the diſh with a knife.

What doſt thou ſtrike at Marcus with knife.

Mar. At that that I haue kil'd my Lord, a Flys

An. Out on the murderour: thou kilſt my hart,
Mine eyes clo'd with view of Tirranie:

A deed of death done on the Innocent

Becoms not Titus brothor : get thee gone,

I fee thou art not for my company :

Mar. Alas(my Lord) I haue but kild a flie.

An. But? How : if that Flie had a father and mother?

How would he hang his flender gilded wings

And but lamenting doings in the ayer,

Poore harmeleſſe Fly,

That with his pretty buzing melody,

Came heere to make vs merry,

And thou haſt kil'd him.

Mar. Pardon me fir,

It was a blacke ill ſauour'd Fly,

Like to the Empreſſe Moore,therefore I kild him.

An. O, O, O,

Then pardon me for reprehending thee,

For thou haſt done a Charitable deed :

Gine me thy knife,I will infult on him,

Flattering my ſelfes,as if it were the Moore,

Come hither purpofely to poyſon me.

Ther'es for thy ſelſe, and thafs for Tamira: Ah ſirra,

Yet I thinke we are not brought ſo low,

But that betweene vs, we can kill a Fly,

That comes in likeneſſe of a Cole-blacke Moore.

Mar. Alas poore man, grieſe ha's ſo wrought on him,
Hetakes ſalſe ſhadowes, for true ſubſtances.

And. Come, take away : Lauinia, goe with me,
Ile to thy cloſſet, and goe read with thee
Sad ſtories, chanced in the times of old.

Come boy, and goe with me, thy fight is young,

And thou hſt read, when mine begin to dazell. Exenunt

Mar. What meanes my Neece Lawinia by theſe ſignes?

Ti. Feare not Lucius, ſome what doth ſhe meane:

See Lucius ſee, how much ſhe makes of thee :

Some whether would ſhe haue thee goe with her.

Ah boy, Cornelia neuer with more care

Read to her fonnes, then ſhe hath read to thee,

Sweet Poetry, and Tullies Oratour :

Cauſt thou not geſſe wherefore ſhe plies thee thus ?

Boy. My Lord I know not I, nor can I geſſe,

Vnleſſe ſome fit or frenzie do poſſeſſe her:

For I haue heard my Grandſier ſay full oft,

Extremitie of grieſes would make men mad.

And I haue read that Hecube of Troy,

Ran mad through forrow, that made me to feare,

Although my Lord, I know my noble Aunt,

Loues me as deare as ere my mother did,

And would not but in fury fright my youth,

Which made me downe to throw my booke, and flie

Cauſes perhaps, but pardon me, sweet Aunt,

And Madam, if my Vncle Marcus goe,

I will moſt willingly attend your Ladyship.

Mar. Lucius I will.

Ti. How now Lawinia, Marcus what meanes this ?

Some booke there is that ſhe defines to ſee,

Which is it girle of theſe ? Open them boy,

But thou art deeper read and better skild,

Come and take choyſe of all my Library,

And ſo beguile thy forrow,till the heauens

Reueale the damn'd contriuer of this deed.

What booke ?

Why lifts ſhe vp her armes in ſequence thus ?

Mar. I thinke ſhe meanes that ther was more then one
Confederate in the fact, I more there was :

Or else to heauen ſhe haues them to reuenge,

Ti. Lucius what booke is that ſhe toſeth ſo?

Boy. Grandſier 'tis Ouids Metamorphoſis,

My mother gaue it me.

Mar. For loue of her that's gone,

Perhafs ſhe culd it from among the rest.

Ti. Soft, ſo bufily ſhe turnes the leaues,

Helpe her, what would ſhe finde? Lawinia shall I read?

This is the tragick tale of Philomel?

And treates of Terencea treason and his rape,

And rape I feare was roote of thine annoy.

Mar. See brother ſee, note how ſhe quotes the leaues

Ti. Lawinia, wert thou thus surpriz'd ſweet girle,
Rauiſt and wrong'd as Philomela was?

Forc'd in the ruthleſſe, vaſt, and gloomy woods?

See, ſee, I ſuch a place there is where we did hunt,
(O had we neuer, neuer hunted there)

Patern'd by that the Poet heere defcribes,

By nature made for murthers and for rapes.

Mar. O why should nature build ſo foule a den,

Vnleſſe the Gods delight in tragedies ?

Ti. Gie ſignes ſweet girle, for heere are none bnt friend.

What Romaine Lord it was durſt do the deed ?

Or ſunke not Saturnine, as Tarquin erſts,

That left the Campe to ſinne in Lucrece bed.

Mar. Sit downe ſweet Neece, brother ſit downe by me,
Apollo, Pallas, Ioue, or Mercury,

Inſpire me that I may this treaion finde.

My Lord looke heere, looke heere Lawinia.

Actus Quartus.

Enter young Lucius and Lauinia running after him, and
the Boy flies from her with his booke under his armes.

Enter Titus and Marcus.

Boy. Helpe Grandſier helpe, my Aunt Lawinia,
Followes me euery where I know not why.

Good Vncle Marcus ſee how ſwift ſhe comes,
Alas sweet Aunt, I know not what you meane.

Mar. Stand by me Lucius, do not feare thy Aunt.

Titus. She loues thee boy too well to doe thee harme
Boy. I when my father was in Rome ſhe did.

He writes his Name with his ſaffe, and guides it
with feete and mouths.

This ſandie plot is plaine, guide if thou canſt

This

44

This after me, I haue writ my name,
Without the helpe of any hand at all.
Curst be that hart that forc't vs to that shift:
Write thou good Neece, and heere display at laft,
What God will haue discouered for reuence,
Heauen guide thy pen to print thy forrowes plaine,
That we may know the Traſtors and the truth.

She takes the ſaffe in her mouth, and guides it with her ſtumps and writes.

Ti. Oh doe ye read my Lord what ſhe hath writs ?
Stuprum, Chiron, Demetrius.

Mar. What, what, the luſt full fonnes of Tamora,
Performers of this hainous bloody deed ?

Ti. Magni Dominator poli,
Tam lentus ausis ſcelera, tam lentus vides ?

Mar. Oh calme thee gentle Lord: Although I know
There is enough written vpon this earth,
To ſtirre a mutinie in the mildeſt thoughts,
And arme the mindes of infants to exclaimes.
My Lord kneele downe with me: Laiinia kneele,
And kneele ſweet boy, the Romaine Heſtors hope,
And ſweare with me, as with the wofull Feere
And father of that chaſt diſhonoured Dame,
Lord Iuarius Brutus ſweare for Lucrece rape,
That we will procure (by good aduife)
Mortall reuenge vpon theſe traytorous Gothes,
And fee their blood, or die with this reproach.

Ti. Tis ſure enough, and you knew how.
But if you hunt theſe Beare-whoopes, then beware
The Dam will wake, and if ſhe winde you once,
Shee's with the Lyon deeply ſtill in league.
And lulls him whoſt ſhe palyeth on her backe,
And when he ſleepes will ſhe do what ſhe lift.
You are a young huntſman Marcus, let it alone :

And come, I will goe get a leafe of braſſe,
And with a Gad of ſeelce will write theſe words,
And lay it by : the angry Northerne winde
Will blow theſe fands like Stibels leaues abroad,
And wheres your leſſon then. Boy what ſay you ?

Boy. I ſay my Lord, that if I were a man,
Their mothers bed-chamber ſhould not be ſafe,
For theſe bad bond-men to the yoake of Rome.

Mar. I that's my boy, thy father hath full oft,

For his vngratefull country done the like.

Boy. And Uncle ſo will I, and if I line.

Ti. Come goe with me into mine Armorie,
Lucius Ile fit thee, and withall, my boy

Shall carry from me to the Emprefle ſonnes,

Prefents that I intend to ſend them both,

Come, come, thou'lt do thy meſſage, wilt thou not ?

Boy. I with my dagger in their boſomes Grandſire:
Ti. No boy not ſo, ile teach thee another course,
Laiinia come, Marcus looke to my houſe,
Lucius and Ile goe braue it at the Court,
I marry will we fir, and weele be waited on.

Mar. O heauens ! Can you heare a good man grone
And not reente, or not compaſſion him ?

Marcus attend him in his extaſſe,
That hath more ſears of forrow in his heart,
Then ſoe-mens markes vpon his batter'd ſhield,
But yet ſo iuſt, that he will not reuence,

Reuenge the heauens for old Andronicus.

Enter Aron, Chiron and Demetrius as one dore; and at another
dore youngh Lucius and another, with a bundle of
weapons, and verſes writ upon them.

Chi. Demetrius heeres the ſonne of Lucius,
He hath ſome meſſage to deliuer vs.

Aron. I ſome mad meſſage from his mad Grandfather,
Boy. My Lords, with all the humbleneſſe I may,
I greete your honours from Andronicus,
And pray the Romaine Gods confound you both.

Deme. Gramercie louely Lucius, what's the newes?
For villanie's markt with rape. May it pleafe you,
My Grandſire well aduif'd hath ſent by me,
The goodwillie weapons of his Armorie,
To gratiſe your honourable youth,
The hope of Rome, for ſo he bad me ſay:
And ſo I do and with his gifts preſent
Your Lordſhips, when euer you haue need,
You may be armed and appointed well,
And ſo I leaue you both : like bloody villaines.

Aron. Exit
Deme. What's heere? a ſcrole,& written round about,
Let's fee.
Integer vitæ ſcelerifque parus, non egit maturi iacuitur nec ar-
cus.

Chi. O'tis a verſe in Horace, I know it well.
I read it in the Grammer long agoe.
Moore. I iuſt, a verſe in Horace: right, you haue it,
Now what a thing it is to be an Aſſe ?
Heer's no ſound iest, the old man hath found their guilty,
And ſends the weapons wrapet with lines,
That wound (beyond their feeling) to the quick :
But were our witty Emprefle well a ſoor,
She would applaud Andronicus conceit:
But let her reſt, in her vnreſt a while.

And now young Lords, wa's not a happy ſtirre
Led vs to Rome ſtrangers, and more then ſo;
Captiues, to be aduanced to this height?
It did me good before the Pallace gate,
To braue the Tribune in his brothers hearing.

Deme. But me more good, to ſee ſo great a Lord
Bafely infinuate, and ſend vs gifts.

Moore. Had he not reaſon Lord Demetrius ?
Did you not vſe his daughter very friendly ?

Deme. I would we had a thouſand Romane Dames
At ſuch a bay, by turne to ſerue our luſt.

Chi. A charitable wif, and full of loue,

Moore. Heere lack's but your mother for to ſay, Amen.

Chi. And that would ſhe for twenty thouſand more.

Deme. Come, let vs go, and pray to all the Gods
For our beloved mother in her paines.

Moore. Pray to the deuils, the gods hane giuen vs ouer,
Flourish.

Dem. Why do the Emperors trumpets flourith thus?

Chi. Belike for ioy the Emper our hath a ſonne.

Deme. Soft, who comes here ?

Enter Nurſe with a blacke a Moore childe.
Nur. Good morrow Lords:
O tell me, did you ſee Aaron the Moore ?
Aron. Well, more or leſſe, or nere a whit at all,
Heere Aaron is, and what with Aaron now ?
Nurſe. Oh gentle Aaron, we are all vndone,
Now helpe, or woe betide thee euermore.

Aron. Why, what a catterwalling doſt thou keepe ?
What doſt thou wrap and ſumble in thine armes?

Nurſe. O that which I would hide from heauens eyes,
Our Emprefle ſhame, and ſatfate Romes diſgrace,
She is deliuered Lords, ſhe is deliuered.

Aron To whom?

Nurſe. I meane ſhe is brought a bed ?

Aron. Wel God giue her good reſt,

What

45

What hath he sent her ?

Nurse. A deuill.

Aron. Why then she isthe Deuls Dam: a joyfull ilfue.
Nurse. A ioyleffe, dismall, blacke &. sorrowfull ilfue,
Heere is the babe as loathsome as a toad,
Among'ft the faireft breeders of our clime,
The Emprefle fends it thee,thy ſtampe,thy ſeale,
And bids thee chriſten it with thy daggers point.

Aron. Out you whores, is black fo bafe a hue ?
Sweet blowe, you are a beauteous bloſſome fure:
Deme. Villaine what haſt thou done ?
Aron. That which thou canſt not vndoe.
Chi. Thou haſt vndone our mother.
Deme. And therein helſh dog, thou haſt vndone,
Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed choyce,
Accurſt the off-ſpring of ſo foule a fiend.

Chi. It ſhall not lue.

Aron. It ſhall not die.

Nurse. Aaron it muſt, the mother wils it ſo.

Aron. What, muſt it Nurſe ? Then let no man but I
doe execution on my ſleth and blood.

Deme. Ile broach the Tadpole on my Rapiers point:

Nurse giue it me, my ſword ſhall ſoone diſpatch it.
Aron. Sooner this ſword ſhall plough thy bowels ♀p.
Stay murtherous villaines, will you kill your brother ?

Now by the burning Taperings of the skie,
That ſh'one ſo brightly when this Boy was got,
He dies vpon my Semitars ſharpe point,

That touches this my firſt borne ſonne and heire.

I tell you young-lings, not Enceladus

With all his threatening band of Typhons broode,
Nor great Alcides,nor the God of warre,

Shall ceaze this prey out of his fathers hands :

What, what, ye ſanguine ſhallow harted Boyes,

Ye white-limb'd walls, ye Ale-houſe painted ſignes,

Cole blacke is better then another hue,

In that it ſcornes to beare another hue :

For all the water in the Ocean,

Can neuer tuyne the Swans blacke legs to white,
Although ſhe laue them hourlyn in the flood :

Tell the Emprefle from me, I am of age

To keepe mine owne, excue it how ſhe can.

Deme. Wilt thou betray thy noble miſtris thus ?

Aron. My miſtris is my miſtris: this my ſelfe,

The vigour, and the picture of my youth :

This, before all the world do I preferre,

This mauger all the world will I keepe ſafe,

Or ſome of you ſhall ſmoake for it in Rorne.

Deme. By this our mother is for euer ſham'd.

Chi. Rome will deſpife her for this ſoule eſcape.

Nur. The Empourer in his rage will doome her death.

Chi. I bluſh to thinke vpon this iſogniminie.

Aron. Why thes the priuilege your beauty beares:

Fie trecherous hue, that will betray with bluſhing

The cloſe enaſts and counſels of the hart :

Heer's a young Lad fram'd of another leere,

Looke how the blacke ſlaue ſmiles vpon the father's

As who should ſay, old Lad I am thine owne,

He is your brother Lords, ſenſibly ſed

Of that ſelfe blood that firſt gaue life to you,

And from that wombe where you imprifoned were

He is infranchiſed and come to light :

Nay he is your brother by the ſurer ſide,

Although my ſeale be ſtamped in his face.

Nurse. Aaron what ſhall I ſay vnto the Emprefle ?
Dem. Aduife thee Aaron, what is to be done,

And we will all ſubſcribe to thy aduife :

Sae thou the child, so we may all be ſafe.

Aron. Then fit we downe and let vs all confult.

My ſonne and I will haue the winde of you :

Keepe there, now talke at pleaure of your ſafety.

Deme. How many women ſaw this childe of his ?

Aron. Why ſo braue Lords, when we ioyne in league
I am a Lambe: but if you braue the Moore,
The chafed Bore, the mountaine Lyoneſſe,
The Ocean ſwells not ſo at Aaron ſtormes :

But ſay againe, how many ſaw the childe ?

Nurse. Cornelia, the midwife, and my ſelfe,

And none else but the deliuered Emprefſſe.

Aron. The Emprefle, the Midwife, and your ſelfe,

Two may keepe counſell, when the third's away:

Goe to the Emprefle, tell her this I ſaid,
He kils her Weeke, weeke, ſo cries a Pigge prepared to th'ſpit.

Deme. What mean'ſt thou Aaron ?

Wherefore did't thou this ?

Aron. O Lord fir, 'tis a deed of pollicie ?

Shall ſhe lue to betray this guilt of our's :

A long tong'u'd babling Goffip? No Lords no :

And now be it knowne to you my full intent.

Not farre, one Muliteus my Country-man

His wife but yeſternight was brought to bed,

His childe is like to her, faire as you are :

Goe packe with him, and giue the mother gold,

And tell them both the circumſtance of all,

And how by this their Childe ſhall be aduaunc'd,

And be receiued for the Empourers hereye,

And Subſtituted in the place of mine,

To calme this tempeſt whirling in the Court,

And let the Empourer dandle him for his owne.

Harke ye Lords, ye ſee I haue giuen her phyſicke,

And you muſt needs beſlow her funerall,

The fields are neere, and you are gallant Groomes :

This done, ſee that you take no longer daies

But ſend the Midwife prefently to me.

The Midwife and the Nurſe well made away,

Then let the Ladies rattle what they pleafe.

Chi. Aaron I ſee thou wilt not ttuſt the ayre with ſe
Deme. For this care of Tamora, (creets,

Her ſelfe, and hers are highly bound to thee. Exeunt.

Aron. Now to the Gothes, as twiſt as Swallow flies,

There to diſpofe this treaſure in mine armes,

And secretly to greere the Emprefle friends :

Come on you thick-lipt-ſlaue, Ile beare you hence,

For it is you that purſ vs to our ſhifts :

Ile make you feed on berries, and on rootes,

And feed on curds and whay, and ſucke the Goate,

And cabbin in a Caue, and bring you vp

To be a warriour, and command a Campe.

Exit

Enter Titus, old Marcus, young Lucius, and another gentlemen
with bowes, and Titus beares the arrows with
Letters on the end of them.

Tit. Come Marcia, come, kinsmen this is the way.

Sir Boy let me ſee your Archeſter,

Looke yee draw home enough, and 'tis there ſtraight :

Terry as Afterreliquit, be you ſemembred Marcus.

She's gone, ſhe's ſled, first take you to your tooles,

You Cofens ſhall goe found the Ocean :

And caſt your nets, haply you may find her in the Sea,

Yet thes as little iuſtice as at Land :

No Publius and Sempronius, you muſt doe it,

Tis

46

Tis you must dig with Mattocke, and with Spade,
And pierce the inmost Center of the earth:
Then when you come to *Plutoes* Region,
I pray you deliver him this petition,
Tell him it is for justice, and for aide,
And that it comes from old *Andronicus*,
Shaken with sorrows in vngratefull Rome.
Ah Rome! Well, well, I made thee uniterable,
What time I threw the peoples suffrages
On him that thus doth tyrannize ore me.
Goe get you gone, and pray be carefull all,
And leaue you not a man of warre vnsearcht,
This wicked Emperour may haue shipt her hence,
And kinfmen then we may goe pipe for justice.

*Marc.* O *Publius* is not this a heauie cafe

To see thy Noble Vnkle thus difstract?

*Publ.* Therefore my Lords it highly vs concernes,
By day and night t'attend him carefully:
And feede his humour kindly as we may,
Till time beget some carefull remedie.

*Marc.* Kinfmen, his sorrowes are past remedie.
Ioyne with the Gothes, and with reuengefull warre,
Take wreake on Rome for this ingraticude,
And vengeance on the Traytor *Saturnine*.

*Tit.* *Publius* how now ? how now my Maisters?
What haue you met with her ?

*Publ.* No my good Lord, but *Pluto* sends you word,
If you will haue reuence from hell you shall,
Marrie for justice he is so imploy'd,
He thinkes with *Ioue* in heauen, or some where else:
So that perforce you must needs fly a time.

*Tit.* He doth me wrong to feed me with delayes,
Ile diue into the burning Lake below,
And pull her out of *Acaren* by the heeles.
*Marcus* we are but shrubs, no Cedars we,
No big-bon'd-men, fram'd of the Cyclops fize,
But metall *Marcus*, steele to the very backe,
Yet wrung with wrongs more then our backe can beare:
And fith there's no justice in earth nor hell,
We will sollicite heauen, and moue the Gods
To send downe Justice for to wreake our wongs:
Come to this gear, you are a good Archer *Marcus*.

*He giues them the Arrowes.*

*Ad Iouem, that's for you: here ad Appollonem,
Ad Martem, that's for my selfe,*

Heere Boy to *Pallas*, heere to *Mercury*,
To *Saturnine*, to *Cainus*, not to *Saturnine*,

You were as good to shoote againſt the winde.
Too it Boy, *Marcus* looke when I bid:
Of my word, I haue written to effect,
Ther's not a God left vnfollicited.

*Marc.* Kinfmen, shoot all your ſhafts into the Court,
We will afflіct the Emperour in his pride.

*Tit.* Now Maiſters draw, Oh well ſaid *Lucius*:

Good Boy in *Virgoes* lap, giue it *Pallas*.

*Marc.* My Lord, I aime a Mile beyond the Moone,
Your letter is with *Iupiter* by this.

*Tit.* Ha, ha, *Publius*, *Publius*, what haſt thou done ?

See, see, thou haſt not off one of *Taurus* hornes.

*Mar.* This was the sport my Lord, when *Publius* shot,
The Bull being gal'd, gaue *Aries* such a knocke,
That downe fell both the Rams hornes in the Court,
And who should finde them but the Empresse villaine:
She laught, and told the Moore he should not choose
But give them to his Maiſter for a preſent.

*Tit.* Why there it goes, God giue your Lordship ioy.

*Enter the Clowne with a basket and two Pigeons in it.*

*Titus.* Newes, newes, from heauen,
*Marcus* the poaf is come.

*Sirrah, what tydings? haue you any letters?*

*Shall I haue Justice, what fayes *Iupiter*?*

*Clowne.* Ho the libbetmaker, he fayes that he hasht a
ken them downe againe, for the man muſt not be hang'd
till the next weeke.

*Tit.* But what fayes *Iupiter* I aske thee?

*Clowne.* Alas fir I know not *Iupiter*:

I neuer dranke with him in all my life,

*Tit.* Why villaine art not thou the Carrier ?

*Clowne.* I of my Piggions fir, nothing else.

*Tit.* Why, didst thou not come from heauen?

*Clowne.* From heauen? Alas fir, I neuer came there,
God forbid I should be so bold, to preſſe to heauen in my
young dayes. Why I am going with my pigeons to the
Tribunall Plebs, to take vp a matter of brawle, betwixt
my Vncle, and one of the Emperials men.

*Mar.* Why fir, that is as fit as can be to ferue for your
Oration, and let him deliuer the Pigions to the Emperour
from you.

*Tit.* Tell mee, can you deliuer an Oration to the Em-
perour with a Grace ?

*Clowne.* Nay truely fir, I could neuer ſay grace in all
my life.

*Tit.* Sirrah come higher, make no more adoe,
But give your Pigeons to the Emperour,
By me thou haſt haue Iuſtice at his hands.
Hold, hold, meane while her's money for thy charges.
Gue me pen and inke.

*Sirrah, can you with a Grace deliuer a Supplication?*

*Clowne.* I fir

*Titus.* Then here is a Supplication for you, and when
you come to him, at the first approach you must kneele,
then kiffe his foote, then deliuer vp your Pigeons, and
then looke for your reward. Ile be at hand fir, see you do
it brauly.

*Clowne.* I warrant you fir, let me alone,

*Tit.* Sirrha haſt thou a knife? Come let me see it,
Heere *Marcus*, fold it in the Oration,
For thou haſt made it like an humble Suppiant:
And when thou haſt giuen it the Emperour,
Knocke at my dore, and tell me what he fayes.

*Clowne.* God be with you fir, I will.

*Tit.* Come *Marcus* let vs goe, *Publius* follow me.

Exeunt.

*Enter Emperour and Empresse, and her two ſonnes, the
Emperour brings the Arrowes in his hand
that Titus poaf at him.*

*Satur. Why Lords,*

What wrongs are these? was euer ſeene
An Emperour in Rome thus ouerborne,
Troubled, Confronted thus, and for the extent
Of eg all iuſtice, vs'd in such contempt?
My Lords, you know the mightfull Gods,
(How euer theſe diſturbers of our peace
Buz in the peoples eares) there nought hath palt,
But euen with law againſt the willfull Sonnes
Of old *Andronicus*. And what and if
His forrowes haue ſo ouerwhelm'd his wits,
Shall we be thus affiſted in his wreakes,
His fits, his frenzie, and his bitterneſſe,
And now he writes to heauen for his redreſſe.
See, heeres to *Ioue*, and this to *Mercury*,

This

48

And as I learnestly did fixe mine eye
Vpon the wafted building, luddainely
I heard a childe cry vnderneath a wall :
I made vnto the noyse, when foone I heard,
The crying babe control'd with this ditcourfe :
Peace Tawny flaue, halfe me, and halfe thy Dam,
Did not thy Hue bewray whose brat thou art?
Had nature lent thee, but thy Mothers looke,
Villaine thou might'ft haue bene an Emperour.
But where the Bull and Cow are both milk-white,
They neuer do beget a cole-blacke-Calfe :
Peace, villaine peace, euen thus he rates the babe,
For I muſt beare thee to a truſty Goth,
Who when he knowes thou art the Empresse babe,
Will hold thee dearely for thy Mothers ſake.
With this, my weapon drawne I rufſt vpon him,
Surpriz'd him ſuddainely, and brought him hither
To vſe, as you thinke neecedfull of the man.

Luci. Oh worthy Goth, this is the incarnate devill,

That rob'd Andronicus of his good hand:
This is the Pearle that pleaf'd your Empresse eye,
And heere's the Bafe Fruit of his burning luſt.
Say wall-ey'd flaue, whether would'ſt thou conuay
This growing Image of thy fiend-like face?
Why doſt not ſpeake ? what deafe? Not a word?
A halter Souldiers, hang him on this Tree,
And by his ſide his Fruite of Baſtardie.

Aron. Touch not the Boy, he is of Royall blood.

Luci. Too like the Syre for euer being good.
First hang the Child that he may ſee it ſprall,
A fight to vexe the Fathers foule withall.

Aron. Get me a Ladder Lucius, ſaue the Childe,
And beare it from me to the Empresse :
If thou do this, Ile ſhew thee wondrous things,
That highly may aduantage thee to heare ;
If thou wift not, befall what may befall,

Ile ſpeake no more: but vengeance rot you all.

Luci. Say on, and if it pleafe me which thou ſpeak'ſt,
Thy child ſhall liue, and I will ſee it Nouriſht.

Aron. And if it pleafe thee? why affure thee Lucius,
'Twill vexe thy foule to heare what I ſhall ſpeake:
For I muſt talke of Murthers, Rapes, and Maffacres,
Aſts of Blacke-night, abhominable Deeds,
Complorſ of Mischefte, Treason, Villanies
Ruthfull to heare, yet pittiously preform'd,
And this ſhall all be buried by my death,
Vnleſſe thou ſweare to me my Childe ſhall liue.

Luci. Tell on thy minde,

I ſay thy Childe ſhall liue...

Aron. ſweare that he ſhall, and then I will begin.

Luci. Who should I ſweare by,
Thou beleeu'st no God,

That graunted, how can'ſt thou beleeue an oath?

Aron. What if I do not, as indeed I do not,
Yet for I know thou art Religious,
And haſt a thing within thee, called Conſcience,
With twenty Popiſh trickses and Ceremonies,
Which I haue ſeenethoe careful to obſerue :
Therefore I vge thy oath, for that I know
An Ideoth holds his Bauble for a God,
And keepe the oath which by that God he ſweares,
To that I vge him: therefore thou haſt yow
By that I gave God, what God ſo ſore it be
That thou adoreſt, and haſt in reuerence,
To ſaue my Boy, to nouriſh and bring him vp,
Ore else I will diſcouer nought to thee.

Luci. Euen by my God I ſweare to thee I will,

Aron. First know thou,
I be got him on the Empresse.

Luci. Oh moſt Inſatiate luxurious woman!

Aron. Tut Lucius, this was but a deed of Charitie,
To that which thou haſt heare' of me anon,
'Twas her two Sonnes that murdered Baffianus,
They cut thy Sifters tongue, and rauiſh her,
And cut her hands off, and trim'd her as thou ſaw'ſt,

Lucius. Oh detestable villaine!

Call it thou that Trimming?

Aron. Why ſhe was waſt, and cut, and trim'd,
And'twas trim ſport for them that had the doing of it.

Luci. Oh barbarous beaſtly villaines like thy ſelfe!

Aron. Indeede, I was their Tutor to inſtruct them,
That Codding ſpirit had they from their Mother,
As ſure a Card as euer wonne the Set:

That bloody minde I thinke they learn'd of me,
As true a Dog as euer fought at head.

Well, let my Deeds be witneſſe of my worth:
I trayn'd thy Bretheren to that guilefull Hole,
Where the dead Corps of Baffianus lay:

I wrote the Letter, that thy Father found,
And hid the Gold within the Letter mention'd,
Confederate with the Queene, and her two Sonnes,
And what not done, that thou haſt cauſe to rue,
Wherein I had no ſtroke of Mischefte in it.

I play'd the Cheater for thy Fathers hand,
And when I had it, drew my ſelfe apart,
Andalmoft broke my heart with extreame laughter.

I pried me through the Creuice of a Wall,
When for his hand, he had his two Sonnes heads,
Beheld his teares, and laught so hartily,
That both mine eyes were rainie like to his:

And when I told the Empresse of this ſport,
She founded almoſt at my pleasing tale,
And for my tydings, gaue me twenty kiffes.

Goth. What canſt thou ſay all this, and neuer bluſh?

Aron. I, like a blacke Dogge, as the ſaying is.

Luci. Art thou not forry for theſe hauous deede?

Aron. I, that I had not done a thouſand more:
Euen now I curſe the day, and yet I thinke
Few come within ſew compaſſe of my curſe,
Wherein I did not ſome Notorious ill,
As kill a man, or elſe deuife his death,
Rauiſh a Maid, or plot the way to do it,
Accuſe ſome Innocent, and for weare my ſelfe,
Set deadly Enmity betweene two Friends,
Make poore mens Cattell breake their neckes,
Set fire on Barnes and Haystackes in the night,
And bid the Owners quench them with the teares:

Oft haue I dig'd vp dead men from their graues,
And set them upright at their deere Friends door,
Euen when their forrowes almoſt was forgot,
And on their skinnes, as on the Barke of Trees,
Haue with my knife carued in Romaine Letters,
Let nor your forrow die, though I am dead.
Tut, I haue done a thouſand dreadfull things
As willingly, as one would kill a Fly,
And nothing greeues me hartily indeede,
But that I cannot doe ten thouſand more.

Luci. Bring downe the diuell, for he muſt not die
So ſweet a death as hanging ſenſtly.

Aron. If there be diuels, would I were a devill,
To liue and burne in cuerelating fire,
So I might haue your company in hell,

Tam. Well haft thou leffon'd vs, this shall we do.
But would it pleafe thee good Andronicus,
To fend for Lucius thy thrice Valiant Sonne,
Who leades towards Rome a Band of Warlike Gothes,
And bid him come and Banquet at thy house.
When he is heere, euen at thy Solemne Feaft,
I will bring in the Empresse and her Sonnes,
The Emperour himfelfe, and all thy Foes,
And at thy mercy shall they ftoop, and kneele,
And on them ſhalt thou eafe, thy angry heart :
What faies Andronicus to this deuile?

Enter Marcus.

Tit. Marcus my Brother, 'tis sad Titus calls,
Go gentle Marcus to thy Nephew Lucius,
Thou ſhalt enquire him out among the Gothes,
Bid him repaire to me, and bring with him
Some of the chiefest Princes of the Gothes,
Bid him encamp his Souldiers where they are,
Tell him the Emperour, and the Empresse too,
Feafts at my house, and he ſhall Feaft with them,
This do thou for my loue, and ſo let him,
As he regards his aged Fathers life.

Mar. This will I do, and foone returne againe.

Tam. Now will I hence about thy buſineſſe,

And take my Minifers along with me.

Tit. Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder ſlay with me,
Or els Ile call my Brother backe againe,
And cleau to no reuenge but Lucius.

Tam. What ſay you Boyes, will you bide with him,
Whiles I goe tell my Lord the Emperour,
How I haue gouern'd our determined ieuſt?
Yeeld to his Humour, ſmooth and ſpeake him faire,
And tarry with him till I turne againe.

Tit. I know them all, though they ſuppofe me mad,
And will ore-reach them in their owne deuifes,
A payre of curfed helſ-hounds and their Dam.

Dem. Madam depart at pleature, leaue vs heere.

Tam. Farewell Andronicus, reuengenow goes

To lay a complot to betray thy Foes.

Tit. I know thou dooſt, and ſweet reuenge farewell.

Cbi. Tell vs old man, how ſhall we be imploy'd ?

Tit. Tut, I haue worke enough for you to doe,

Publius come hither, Caesars, and Valentine.

Pub. What is your will ?

Tit. Know you theſe two ?

Pub. The Empresse Sonnes

I take them, Chiron, Demetrius.

Titus. Fie Publius, ſie, thou art too much deceau'd,

The one is Murder, Rape is the others name,

And therefore bind them gentle Publius,

Caesars, and Valentine, lay hands on them,

Oft haue you heard me wifh for ſuch an houre,

And now I find it, therefore binde them ſure,

Chi. Villaines forbeare, we are the Empresse Sonnes.

Pub. And therefore do we, what we are commanded,
Stop close their mouths, let them not ſpeake a word,
Is he ſure bound, looke that you binde them ſaſt. Exeunt.

Enter Titus Andronicus with a knife, and Launia
with a Bafon.

Tit. Come, come Launia, looke, thy Foes are bound,
Sirs ſtop their mouths, let them not ſpeake to me,
But let them heare what ſeaſeſt words I vtter.

Oh Villaines, Chiron, and Demetrius,
Here stands the spring whom you haue ſlain'd with mud,
This goodly Sommer with your Winter mixt,
You kil'd her husband, and for that vil'd ſault,
Two of her Brothers were condemn'd to death,
My hand cut off, and made a merry ieuſt,
Both her ſweet Hands, her Tongue, and that more deere
Then Hands or tongue, her ſpottedle Chaſtity,
Iuhumaine Traytors, you conſtrain'd and forſt.
What would you ſay, if I should let you ſpeake ?
Villaines for ſhame you could not beg for grace,
Harke Wretches, how I meane to martyr you,
This one Hand yet is left, to cut your throats,
Whilſt that Launia tweene her flumps doth hold:
The Bafon that receiues your guilty blood,
You know your Mother meanes to ſeaſt with me,
And calls herſelfe Reuenge, and thinkes me mad,
Harke Villaines, I will grin'd your bones to duſt,
And with your blood and it, Ile make a Paſte,
And of the Paſte a Coffen I will reare,
And make two Paſties of your ſhamefull Heads,
And bid that ſtrumpet your vnhalloved Dam,
Like to the earth ſwallow her increafe.
This is the ſeaſt, that I haue bid her to,
And this the Banquet ſhe ſhall ſurſet on,
For worſe then Philomel you wſd my Daughter,
And worſe then Progne, I will be reueng'd,
And now prepare your throats: Launia come,
Receiue the blood, and when that they are dead,
Let me goe grin'd their Bones to powder ſmall,
And with this hatefull Liquor temper it,
And in that Paſte let their vil'd Heads be bakte,
Come, come, be euery one officious,
To make this Banket, which I wifh might proue,
More ſterne and bloody then the Centaures ſeaſt.

He cuts their throats.
Sonow bring them in, for Ile play the Cooke,
And ſeethem ready, gainſt their Mother comes. Exeunt.

Enter Lucius, Marcus, and the Gothes.

Luc. Vnkleck Marcus, ſince'tis my Fathers minde
That I repair to Rome, I am content.
Goth. And ours with thine befall, what Fortune will.
Luc. Good Vnkleck take you in this barbarous Moure,
This Rauenous Tiger, this accuſed deuill,
Let him receiue no ſuſtenance, ſetter him,
Till he be brought vnto the Emperour face,
For teſtimony of her ſoule proceedings.
And see the Ambush of our Friends be ſtrong,
If ere the Emperour meanes no good to vs.

Aron. Some deuill whisper curſes in my eare,
And prompt me that my tongue may vtter for the,
The Venemous Malice of my wıſling heart.

Luc. Away Inhumaine Dogge, Vnhallowed Slave,
Sirs, helpe our Vnkleck, to convey him in,
The Trumpets ſhew the Emperour is at hand.

Sound Trumpets. Enter Emperour and Empresse, with
Tribunes and others.

Sat. What, hath the Firemament more Suns then one?

Luc. What bootes it thee to call thy ſelſe a Sunne ?
Mar. Romes Emperour & Nephewe breake the parle

Theſe quarrels muſt be quietly debar'd,

The Feaſt is ready which the careful ſtitus,

Hath

51

Hath ordained to an Honourable end,
For Peace, for Loue, for League, and good to Rome:
Please you therefore draw nie and take your places.

Satur. Marcus we will.

Hobgyer.

A Table brought in.

Enter Titus like a Cook, placing the meat on
the Table, and Laninia with a vale ouer her face.

Titus. Welcome my gracious Lord,
Welcome Dread Queene,
Welcome ye Warlike Gothes, welcome Lucius,
And welcome all:although the cheere be poore,
'Twill fill your stomacks, please you eat of it.

Sat. Why art thou thus attir'd Andronicus?

Tit. Because I would be fure to have all well,

To entertaine your Highnesſe, and your Empresse.

Tam. We are beholding to you good Andronicus?

Tit. And if your Highneſſe knew my heart, you were:
My Lord the Emperour refolue me this,

Was it well done of rath Virginius,
To flay his daughter with his owne right hand,
Because she was enforſh't, ſtain'd, and deſlowrd?

Satur. It was Andronicus.

Tit. Your reason, Mighty Lord?

Sat. Because the Girle, should not furine her ſhame,
And by her prefence fill renew his forrowes.

Tit. A reaſon mighty, a ſtrong, and effectuall,
A patterne, a preſident, and liuely warrant,

For me(moft wretched) to performe the like:
Die, die, Laninia, and thy ſhame with thee,
And with thy ſhame, thy Fathers forrow die.

He kils her.

Sat. What haſt done, vnnatural and vnkinde?

Tit. Kil'd her for whom my teares haue made me blind.
I am as wofull as Virginius was,

And haue a thousand times more cauſe then he.

Sat. What was the rauiſht ? tell who did the deed,

Tit. Wilt pleafe you eat,

Wilt pleafe your Higneſſe feed?

Tam. Why haſt thou ſlaine thin: onely Daughter?

Titus. Not I, twas Chiron and Demetrius,

They rauiſht her, and cut away her tongue,
And they, 'twas they, that did her all this wrong.

Sat. Go fetch them hither to vs prefently.

Tit. Why there they are both, baked in that Pie,
Whereof their Mother dantily hath fed,
Eating the fleſh that the herſelſe hath bred.

Tis true, 'tis true, witneſſe my kniues sharpe point.

He ſtabs the Empresse.

Sat. Die franticke wretch, for this accur'd deed.

Luc. Can the Sonnes eye, behold his Father bleed?
There's meede for meede, death for a deadly deed,

Mar. You fad: ſt'd men, people and Sonnes of Rome,
By vproſes feuer'd like a flight of Fowle,

Scattred by windes and high tempeſtuous guſts :
Oh let me teach you how, to knit againe

This ſcattr'd Corne, into one mutuall ſheafe,
These broken limbs againe into one body.

Goth. Let Rome herſelſe be bane vnto herſelſe,
And ſhée whom mightie kinglyomes curſie too,
Like a forlorne and desperate caſtaway,
Doe ſhamefull execution on her ſelfe.

But if my froſtie ſignes and chaps of age,
Graue witneſſes of true experience,
Cannot induce you to attend my words,

Speake Romes deere friend, as 'eſt our Aunceſtor,

When with his ſolemne tongue he did disſourſe
To loue-ſieke Didoes ſad attending care,
The ſtory of that balefull burning night,
When ſubtil Greekes ſurpriz'd King Priams Troy:
Tell vs what ſinon hath bewicht our eares,
Or who hath brought the fatall engine in,
That giues our Troy, our Rome the ciuill wound..
My heart is not compact of flint nor ſteele,
Nor can I vitter all our bitter griſe,
But floods of teares will drowne our Oratorie,
And breake my very vtrtrance, cuen in the time
When it ſhould moue you to attend me moſt,
Lending your kind hand Commiſeration.

Heere is a Captaine, let him tell the tale,
Your hearts will throb and weepe to heare him ſpeake.

Luc. This Noble Auditory, be it knowne to you,
That curled Chiron and Demetrius

Were they that murdred our Emperours Brother,
And they it were that rauiſhed our Sifter,

For their fell faults our Brothers were beheaded,
Our Fathers teares deſpif'd, and basely couſen'd,
Of that true hand that fought Romes quarrell out,
And ſent her enemies vnto the graue.

Laſtly, my ſelſe vnkindly baniſhed,
The gates ſhut on me, and turn'd weeping out,
To beg relieſe among Romes Enemies,
Who droun'd their enmity in my true teares,
And op'd their armes to imbrace me as a Friend.

And I am turned forth, be it knowne to you,
That haue preferu'd her welfare in my blood,
And from her boſome tooke the Enemies point,
Sheathing the ſteele in my aduentrous body.

Alas you know, I am no Vauunter I,
My ſears can witneſſe, dumbe although they are,
That my report is iuſt and full of truth:
But ſoft, me thinkes I do digreſſe too much,

Cying my worthleſſe prieſe: Oh pardon me,
For when no Friends are by, men prieſe themſelues.

Marc. Now is my turne to ſpeake: Behold this Child,
Of this was Tamora delinered,

The iſſue of an Irreligious Moore,
Chieſe Architect and plotter of thesewoes,
The Villaine is aliue in Titus houſe,

And as he is, to witneſſe this is true.
Now iudge what courſe had Titus to revenge

Theſe wrongs, vnſpeakeable paſt patience,
Or more then any laing man could beare.

Now you haue heard the truth, what ſay you Romaines?
Hauе we done ought amife ? ſhew vs wherein,
And from the place where you behold vs now,

The poore remainder of Andronicus,

Will hand in hand all headlong caſt vs downe,
And on the ragged ſlones beat forth our brains,
And make a mutuall closure of our houſe :

Speake Romaines ſpeake, and if you ſay we ſhall,
Loe hand in hand, Lucius and I will fall.

Emiliu. Come come, thou reuerent man of Rome,
And bring our Emperour gently in thy hand,
Lucius our Emperour: for well I know,

The common voyce do cry it ſhall be ſo.

Mar. Lucius, all haile Romes Royall Emperour,
Goe, goe into old Titus forrowfull houſe,
And hither hale that misbelieuing Moore,
To be adiud'd ſome direfull ſlaughtering death,
As puniſhment for his moſt wicked life.

Lucius all haile to Romes gracious Governour,

cc 2

Lucius

Luc. Thankes gentle Romanes, may I gouerne so,
To heale Romes harmes, and wipe away her woe.
But gentle people, giue me ayme a-while,
For Nature puts me to a heauy taske :
Stand all aloofe, but Vnckle draw you neere,
To shed obfequious teares vpon this Trunke :
Oh take this warme kiffe on thy pale cold lips,
These forrowfull drops vpon thy bloud-flaine face,
The laft true Duties of thy Noble Sonne.

Mar. Teare for teare, and louing kiffe for kiffe,
Thy Brother Marcus tenders on thy Lips :
O were the fumme of these that I should pay
Countleffe, and infinit, yet would I pay them.

Luc. Come hither Boy, come, come, and learne of vs
To melt in showres : thy Grandfire lou'd thee well :
Many a time he danc'd thee on his knee :
Sung thee afleepe, his Louing Breft, thy Pillow :
Many a matter hath he told to thee,
I Meete, and agreeing with thine Infancie :
in that respect then, like a louing Childe,
Shed yet fome small drops from thy tender Spring,
Because kindle Nature doth require it so:
Friends, should affociate Friends, in Greefe and Wo.
Bid him farwell, commit him to the Graue,
Do him that kindneffe, and take leaue of him.

Boy. O Grandfire, Grandfire: euen with all my heart
Would I were Dead, so you did Liue againe.
O Lord, I cannot speake to him for weeping,
My teares will choake me, if I ope my mouth.

Romans. You sad Andronici, have done with woes,
Gue sentence on this execrable Wretch,
That hath beene breeder of these dire cuents.

Luc. Set him breft deepe in earth, and famifh him :
There let him fland, and raue, and cry for foode :
If any one releecues, or pitties him,
For the offence, he dyes. This is our doome :
Some stay, to see him faft'ned in the earth.

Aron. O why should wrath be mute, & Fury dumb?
I am no Baby I, that with bafe Prayers
I should repent the Euils I haue done.
Ten thousand worse, then euer yet I did,
Would I performe if I might haue my will :
If one good Deed in all my life I did,
I do repent it from my very Soule.

Lucius. Some louing Friends conuey the Emp.hence,
And giue him buriall in his Fathers graue.
My Father, and Laninia, shall forthwith
Be clofed in our Houfholds Monument :
As for that heynous Tyger Tamora,
No Funerall Rite, nor man in mournfull Weeds ;]
No mournfull Bell shall ring her Buriall:
But throw her foorth to Beasts and Birds of prey :
Her life was Beaft-like, and deuoid of pitty,
And being so, shall haue like want of pitty.
See Iustice done on a Aaron that damn'd Moore,
From whom, our heauy happes had their beginning:
Then afterwards, to Order well the State,
That like Euents, may ne're it Ruinate.

Exultant cœutis,

FINIS.

THE TRAGEDIE OF
ROMEO and IVLIET.

Adus Primus. Scena Prima.

Enter Sampson and Gregory, with Swords and Bucklers,
of the House of Capulet.

Sampson.

Regory: A my word weel not carry coales.

Greg. No; for then we should be Colliers.

Samp. I mean, if we be in choller, weel draw.

Greg. I, While you liue, draw your necke out

o'th Collar.

Samp. I strike quickly, being mou'd.

Greg. But thou art not quickly mou'd to strike.

Samp. A dog of the house of Mountague, moues me.

Greg. To moue, is to fir: and to be valiant, is to stand:
Therefore, if thou art mou'd, thou runft away.

Samp. A dogge of that houfe shall moue me to stand,
I will take the wall of any Man or Maid of Mountague.

Greg. That flewes thee a weake flaue, for the wea-
keft goes to the wall.

Samp. True, and therefore women being the weaker
Vessels, are euer thrust to the wall : therefore I will push
Mountagues men from the wall, and thrust his Maides to
the wall. (their men)

Greg. The Quarrell is betweene our Masters, and vs

Samp. 'Tis all one, I will flew my felfe a tyrant: when
I haue fought with the men, I will bee ciuill with the
Maids, and cut off their heads.

Greg. The heads of the Maids?

Sam. I, the heads of the Maids, or their Maiden-heads,
Take it in what fence thou wilt.

Greg. They muft take it fence, that feele it.

Samp. Me they shall feele while I am able to stand :

And 'tis knowne I am a pretty piece of flesh.

Greg. 'Tis well thou art not Fifth: If thou had't, thou
had't beene poore John. Draw thy Toole, here comes of
the House of the Mountagues.

Enter two other Servingmen.

Sam. My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee

Gre. How? Turne thy backe, and run.

Sam. Feare me not.

Gre. No, marry: I feare thee.

Sam. Let vs take the Law of our fides: let them begin.

Gr. I wil frown as I paffe by, & let the take it as they lift

Sam. Nay, as they dare, I will bite my Thumb at them,

which is a difgrace to them, if they beare it.

Abra. Do you bite your Thumbe at vs fir?

Samp. I do bite my Thumbe, fir.

Abra. Do you bite your Thumb at vs, fir?

Sam. Is the Law of our fide, if I fay I?

Gre. No.

Sam. No fir, I do not bite my Thumbe at you fir: but
I bite my Thumbe fir.

Greg. Do you quarrell fir?

Abra. Quarrell fir? no fir.

Sam. If you do fir, I am for you, I ferue as good a man

Abra. No better?

Samp. Well fir.

Enter Bennuolio.

Gr. Say better: here comes one of my maisters kinfmen.

Samp. Yes, better.

Abra. You Lye.

Samp. Draw if you be men. Gregory, remember thy
wafting blow. They Fight.

Ben. Part Fooles, put vp your Swords, you know not
what you do.

Enter Tibalt.

Tyb. What art thou drawne, among these heartleffe
Hindes? Turne thee Bennuolio, looke vpon thy death.

Ben. I do but keepe the peace, put vp thy Sword,
Or manage it to part these men with me.

Tyb. What draw, and talke of peace? I hate the word
As I hate hell, all Mountagues, and thee:

Haue at thee Coward.

Fights.

Enter three or foure Citizens with Clubs.

Off. Clubs, Bils; and Partifons, strike, beat them down
Downe with the Capulets, downe with the Mountagues.

Enter old Capulet in his Gowne, and his wife.

Cap. What noife is this? Giue me my long Sword ho.

Wife. A crutch, a crutch: why call you for a Sword?

Cap. My Sword I fay: Old Mountague is come,

And flourishes his Blade in spight of me.

Enter old Mountague, & his wife.

Moun. Thou villaine Capulet. Hold me not, let me go
2.Wife. Thou shall not flit a foote to feeke a Foe.

Enter Prince Eskales, with his Traine.

Prince. Rebellious Subie<sup>cts</sup>, Enemies to peace,
Prophaners of this Neighbor-flained Steele,

Will they not heare? What hoc, you Men, you Beafts,

That quench the fire of your pernicious Rage,

With purple Fountaines iffuing from your Veines :

On paine of Torture, from thole bloody hands

Throw your miftemper'd Weapons to the ground,

And heare the Sentence of your mooued Prince,

Three ciuill Broyles, bred of an Ayery word,

By thee old Capulet and Mountague,

Have thrice diffurb'd the quiet of our streets,

And made Verona's ancient Citizens

Cadt by their Graue befeeming Ornaments,

To wield old Partizans, in hands as old,

cc 3

Cankred

The Tragedie of Romeo and Juliet.

Cankred with peace, to part your Cankred hate,

If euer you disturbe our streets againe,
Your liues shall pay the forfeit of the peace.

For this time all the reft depart away:

You Capalet shall goe along with me,
And Mountague come you this afternoon,
To know our Fathers pleasure in this cafe:

To old Free-towne, our common judgement place:

Once more on paine of death, all men depart. Exeunt.
Moun. Who fet this auncient quarrell new approach?

Speake Nephew, were you by, when it began:

Ben. Heere were the feruants of your aduerfarie,

And yours clofe fighting ere I did approach,
I drew to part them, in the inftant came

The fiery Tibalt, with his sword prepar'd,
Which as he breath'd defiance to my eares,
He ſwong about his head, and cut the windes,
Who nothing hurt withall, lift him in ſcorne.

While we were enterchanging cruſts and blowes,
Came more and more, and fought on part and part,
Till the Prince came, who parted either part.

Wife. O where is Romeo, saw you him to day?

Right glad am I, he was not at this fray.

Ben. Madam, an houre before the worſcript Sun
Peer'd forth the golden window of the Eaſt,
A troubled mind draue me to walke abroad,
Where vnderneath the groue of Sycamour,
That Weſt-ward rooteth from this City ſide:

So earely walking did I fee your Sonne:

Towards him I made, but he was ware of me,
And ſtole into the couert of the wood,

I measuring his affections by my owne,

Which then moſt fought, wher moſt might not be found:
Being one too many by my weary ſelfe,
Purſued my Honour, not purſuing his
And gladly ſhunn'd, who gladly fled from me.

Mount. Many a morning hath he there beene ſeene,
With teares augmenting the fresh mornings dew,
Adding to cloudes, more cloudes with his deepc ſighes,
But all ſo ſoone as the all-cheering Sunne,
Should in the fartheſt Eaſt begin to draw

The ſhadie Curtaines from Aurora's bed,

Away from light ſtales home my heavy Sonne,

And priuate in his Chamber pennes himſelfe,

Shuts vp his windowes, lockeſ faire day-light out,

And makes himſelfe an artificiall night:

Blake and portendous muſt this humour proue,
Vnleſſe good counſell may the cauſe remoue.

Ben. My Noble Vncle doe you know the cauſe ?

Moun. I neither know it, nor can learne of him.

Ben. Haue you importun'd him by any meane(s)?

Moun. Both by my ſelfe and many others Friends,

But he his owne affections counſeller,
Is to himſelfe (I will not ſay how true)

But to himſelfe ſo ſecret and ſo cloſe,

So farre from founding and diſcouery,

As is the bud bit with an enuious worme,

Ere he can ſpread his ſwecte leaues to the ayre,

Or dedicate his beauty to the ſame.

Could we but learne from whence his ſorrowes grow,

We would as willingly giue cure, as know.

Enter Romeo.

Be.n. See where he comes, ſo please you ſtep aside,
Ile know his greeuance, or be much denide.

Moun. I would thou wert ſo happy by thy ſtay,

To heare true ſhrift. Come Madam let's away. Exeunt.

Ben. Good morrow Couſin.

Rom. Is the day ſo young?

Ben. But new frooke nine.

Rom. Ay me, ſad hours ſeeme long:

Was that my Father that went hencè to ſaſt?

Ben. It was : what ſadnes lengthens Romeo's hours?

Rom. Not hauing that, which hauing, makes them short.

Ben. In loue.

Romeo. Out.

Ben. Of loue.

Rom. Out of her fauour where I am in loue.

Ben. Alas that loue ſo gentle in his view,

Should be ſo tyrannous and rough in proofe.

Rom. Alas that loue, whose view is muffled fill,

Should without eyes, ſee path-wayes to his will:

Where ſhall we dine? O me : what fray was heere?

Yet tell me not, for I haue heard it all:

Heere's much to do with hate, but more with loue:

Why then, O brawling loue, O louing hate,

O any thing, of nothing firſt created :

O heauie lightneſſe, ſerious vanity,

Mifhapen Chaos of welleſing formes,

Feather of lead, bright ſmoake, cold fire, ſicke health,

Still waking ſleepe, that is not what it is:

This loue ſeele I, that ſelee no loue in this.

Doeſt thou not laugh ?

Ben. No Coze, I rather weepe.

Rom. Good heart, at what ?

Ben. At thy good hearts oppreſſion.

Rom. Why ſuch is loues tranſg reſſion.

Grieties of mine owne lie heauie in my breaſt,

Which thou wilt propagate to haue it preſt

With more of thine, this loue that thou haſt ſhowne,

Doth add more griefe, to too much of mine owne,

Loue, is a ſmoake made with the ſume of ſighes,

Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in Louers eyes,

Being vext, a Seanouriſht with louing teares,

What is it ſelſe ? a madneſſe, moſt diſcreet,

A choking gall, and a prefering ſweet:

Farewell my Coze.

Ben. Soft I will goe along.

And if you leaue me ſo, you do me wrong.

Rom. Tut I haue loft my ſelfe, I am not here,

This is not Romeo, hee's ſome other where.

Ben. Tell me in ſadneſſe, who is that you loue ?

Rom. What ſhall I grone and tell thee ?

Ben. Grone, why no : but fadly tell me who.

Rom. A ſicke man in ſadneſſe makes his will :

A word ill vrg'd to one that is ſo ill :

In ſadneſſe Cozin, I do loue a woman.

Ben. I aym'd ſo neare, when I ſuppoſ'd you lou'd.

Rom. A right good marke man, and ſhee's ſaire I loue.

Ben. A right faire maſke, ſaire Coze, is ſooneſt hit.

Rom. Well in that hit you miffed, ſheel not be hit

With Cupids arrow, ſhe hath Dians wit:

And in ſtrong proofe of chaſtity well arm'd:

From loues weake childſt Bow, ſhe the liues vncharm'd.

Shee will not ſtay the ſiege of louing tearmes,

Nor bid th'encounter of aſſailing eyes.

Nor open her lap to Sainct-ſeducing Gold :

O ſhe is rich in beautie, onely poore,

That when ſhe dies, with beautie dies her ſtore?

Ben. Then ſhe hath ſworne, that ſhe will ſill line chat?

Rom. She hath, and in that ſparing make huge waſt?

For beauty ſteru'd with her ſeuernity.

Cuts beauty off from all poſteritie.

She

She is too faire,too wifewi: fely too faire,

To merit bliffe by making me difparie:

Shehath forfworne to loue,and in that vow

Do I liue dead,that liue to tell it now.

Ben. Be rul'd by me,forget to thinke of her.

Rom. O teach me how I should forget to thinke.

Ben. By giuing liberty vnto thine eyes,

Examine other beauties,

Ro. Tis the way to call hers(exquisit)in queftion more,
These happy maskes that kiffe faire Ladies browes,
Being blacke,puts vs in that they hide the faire:

Hethat is ftooken blind,cannot forget

The precious treafure of his eye-fight loft :

Shew me a Miftrefſe that is paffing faire,

What doth her beauty ſerue but as a note,

Where I may read who paff that paffing faire.

Farewell thou can't not teach me to forget,

Ben. Ile pay that doctrine,or else die in debt. Exeunt

Enter Capulet, Countie Paris, and the Clowne.

Capu. Mountague is bound as well as I,

In penalty alike,and is not hard I thinke,

For men so old as wee, to kcepe the peace.

Par. Of Honourable reckning are you both,

And pittie 'tis you liu'd at ods so long:

But now my Lord, what ſay you to my fute ?

Capa. But faying ore what I haue ſaid before,

My Child is yet a ſtranger in the world,
Shee hath not ſeepe the change of fourteene yeares,

Let two more Summers wither in their pride,

Ere we may thinke her ripe to be a Bride,

Pari. Younger then ſhe,are happy mothers made.

Capu. And too foone mar'd are thofe ſo early made:

Earth hath ſwallowed all my hopes but ſhe,

Shee's the hopefull Lady of my earth:

But wooe her gentle Paris, get her heart,

My will to her conſent, is but a part,

And ſhee agree,within her ſcope of choife,

Lyes my conſent,and faire according voice:

This night I hold an old accuſom'd Feaſt,

Whereto I haue inuited many a Gueſt,

Such as I loue,and you among the ſtore,

One more,moſt welcome makes my number more:

At my poore houſe,looke to behold this night,

Earth-treading ſtarees, that make darke heauen light,

Such comfort as do lufly young men feele,

When well apparel'd Aprill on the heele

Oflimping Winter treads,even ſuch delight

Among freſh Pennell buds ſhall you this night

Inherit at my houſe,heare all,all ſee:

And like her moſt,whoſe merit moſt ſhall be:

Which one more yeiw,of many,mine being one,

May ſand in number,though in reckning none.

Come,goe with me: goe firrah trudge about,

Through faire Verona,find thofe perſons out,

Whoſe names are written there,and to them ſay,

My houſe and welcome,on their pleafure ſay.

Exit.

Ser. Find them out whoſe names are written. Here it
is written, that the Shoemaker should meddle with his
Yard, and the Tayler with his Laſt, the Fisber with his
Penfill, and the Painter with his Nets. But I am ſent to
find thofe perſons whoſe names are writ, & can neuer find
what names the writing perſon hath here writ (I muſt to
the learned) in that Iuie.

Enter Bennolio, and Romeo.

Ben. Tut man,one fire burnes out anothers burning,
One paine is leined by anothers anguifh:

Turne giddie, and be holpe by backward turning :

One desparate greeſe,cures with anotheres lauguifh :

Take thou ſome new inſection to the eye,

And the rank poyſon of the old wil die.

Rom. Your Plantan leafe is excellent for that.

Ben. For what I pray thee ?

Rom. For your broken ſhin.

Ben. Why Romeo art thou mad?

Rom. Not mad, but bound more then a mad man is:

Shu'p in prifon, kept without my fooſe,

Whipt and tormented : and Godden good ſellow,

Ser. Godgigoden,I pray fir can you read ?

Rom. I mine owne fortune in my miſerie.

Ser. Perhaps you haue learn'd it without booke :

But I pray can you read any thing you ſee ?

Rom. I, if I know the Letters and the Language.

Ser. Ye ſay honestfly,reſt you merry.

Rom. Stay ſellow,I can read.

He reades the Letter.

SEigneur Martino, and his wife and daughter: County An-
ſelme and his beautions fifters: the Lady widdow of Utru-
nio, Seigneur Placentio, and his louely Neeces: Mercutio and
his brother Valentine: mine uncle Capulet his wife and daugh-
ters: my faire Neece Rosaline, Liuia. Seigneur Valentino, & his
Cofen Tjbale: Lucio and the Iuelly Helena.

A faire ſ assembly,whither ſhould they come ?

Ser. Vp.

Rom. Whicher? to ſupper?

Ser. To our houſe.

Rom. Whofe houſe ?

Ser. My Maſters.

Rom. Indeed I ſhould haue askt you that before.

Ser. Now Ile tell you without asking. My maſter is
the great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the houſe of
Mountagues I pray come and cruſh a cup of wine. Reſt
you merry.

Exit.

Ben. At this fame ſancient Feaſt of Capulets

Sups the faire Rosaline, whom thou ſo loues :

With all the admired Beauties of Verona,

Go thither and with vna trained eye,

Compare her face with ſome that I ſhall ſhow,

And I will make thee thinke thy Swan a Crow.

Rom. When the deuout religion of mine eye

Maintaines ſuch falſhood, then turne teares to fire :

And theſe who often drown'd could neuer die,

Transparent Heretiques be burnt for liers.

One fairer then my loue: the all-ſeeing Sun

Nere ſaw her match, ſince firſt the world begun.

Ben. Tut, you ſaw her faire, none else being by,

Herſelbe poyſt with herſelſe in either eye :

But in that Chriſtall ſcales,let there be waid,

Your Ladies loue againſt ſome other Maid

That I will ſhow you, ſhining at this Feaſt,

And ſhe ſhow ſcant ſhell, well, that now ſhewes beſt.

Rom. Ile goe along, no ſuch fight to be ſhowne,
But to reioyce in ſplendor of mine owne.

Enter Capulets Wife and Nurfe.

Wife. Nurſe, who's my daughter? call her forth to me.

Nurſe. Now by my Maidenhead, at twelue yeare old
I bad her come,what Lamb:what Ladi-bird, God forbid,
Where's this Girle? what Iuliet ?

Enter Iuliet.

Iuliet. How now, who calls ?

Nur. Your Mother.

Iuliet. Madam I am heere, what is your will ?

Wife. This is the matter: Nurſe giue leaue awhile, we
muſt

56

must talke in secret. Nurse come backe againe, I haue re-
membred me, thou'le heare our counsell. Thou knowest
my daughter's of a pretty age.

Nurse. Faith I can tell her age vnto an houre.

Wife. Shee's not fourteene.

Nurse. Ile lay fourteene of my teeth,
And yet to my teene be it spoken,
I haue but foure, shee's not fourteene.
How long is it now to Lammas cide?

Wife. A fortnight and odde dayes.

Nurse. Euen or odde, of all daies in the yeare come Lammas Eue at night shall she be fourteene. *Sufan & she,* God reft all Christian foules, were of an age. Well *Sufan* is with God, she was too good for me. But as I said, on Lammas Eue at night, shall she be fourteene, that shall she marie, I remember it well. 'Tis since the Earth-quake now eleven yeares, and she was wean'd I neuer shall forget it, of all the daies of the yeare, vpon that day: for I had then laid Worme-wood to my Dug sitting in the Sunne vnder the Douchehoue wall, my Lord and you were then at Mantua, nay I doe beare a braine. But as I said, when it did taft the Worme-wood on the nipple of my Dugge, and felt it bitter, pretty foole, to fee it teachie, and fall out with the Dugge, Shake quoth the Doue-houfe, 'twas no neede I trow to bid mee trudge: and since that time it is a eleven yeares, for then she could stand alone, nay bi'th' roode she could haue runne, & waaled all about: for euen the day before she broke her brow, & then my Husband God be with his foule, a was a merrie man, tooke vp the Child, yea quoth hee, doeft thou fall vpon thy face? thou wilt fall backeward when thou haft more wit, wilt thou not Iule? And by my holy-dam, the pretty wretch lefte crying, & said I: to fee now how a Left shall come about. I warrant, & I shall liue a thoufand yeares, I neuer should forget it: wilt thou not Iulest quoth he? and pretty foole it flinted, and faid I.

Old La. Inough of this, I pray thee hold thy peace.

Nurse. Yes Madam, yet I cannot chufe but laugh, to thinke it should leaue crying, & fay I: and yet I warrant it had vpon it brow, a bumpe as big as a young Cockrels fstone? A perilous knock, and it eryed bitterly. Yea quoth my husband, fall't vpon thy face, thou wilt fall backward when thou commeft to age: wilt thou not Iule? It flinted: and faid I.

Iule. And flint thou too. I pray thee Nurse, fay I.

Nur. Peace. I haue done: God marke thee too his grace
thou waft the prettieft Babe that ere I nurſt, and I might
lieue to fee thee married once, I haue my wifh.

Old La. Marry that marry is the very theame

I came to talke of, tell me daughter Iuliet,
How stands your dispoſition to be Married?

Iuli. It is an houre that I dreame not of.

Nur. An houre, were not I thine onely Nurse, I would fay thou had't auckt wifedome from thy teat.

Old La. Well thinke of marriage now, yonger then you
Heere in Verona, Ladies of eſteene,
Are made already Mothers. By my count
I was your Mother, much vpon these yeares
That you are now a Maide, thus then in briefe:
The valiant Paris feekes you for his loue.

Nurse. A man young Lady, Lady, such a man as all
the world. Why hee's a man of waxe.

Old La. Veronas Summer hath not such a flower.

Nurse. Nay hee's a flower, infaith a very flower.

Old La: What fay you, can you loue the Gentleman?
This night you shall behold him at our Feast,

Read ore the volume of young Paris face,
And find delight, writ there with Beauties pen,
Examine every feuerall liniament,
And fee how one another lends content:
And what obſcur'd in this faire volume lies,
Find written in the Margent of his eyes,
This precious Booke of Loue, this vnbound Louer,
To Beautify him, onely lacks a Couer.
The fifth liues in the Sea, and 'tis much pride
For faire without, the faire within to hide:
That Booke in manies eyes doth share the glorie,
That in Gold clasp'd, es, Lockes in the Golden florie:
So shall you share all that he doth poffeſſe,
By hauing him, making your ſelfe no leſſe.

Nurse. No leſſe, nay bigger: women grow by men.

Old La. Speake briefly, can you like of Paris loue?

Iuliet. Ile looke to like, if looking liking moue.

But no more deepe will I endart mine eye,
Then your consent giues strength to make flye.

Enter a Serving man.

Ser. Madam, the guests are come, ſupper ſeru'd vp, you
cal'd, my young Lady askt for, the Nurse curſt in the Pan-
tery, and euery thing in extremite: I must hence to wain,
I be seech you follow straight.

Umo. We follow thee, Iuliet, the Countie Staies.

Nurse. Goe Gyrle, seeke happy eue nights to happy daies.

Extemt.

Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benuolio, with fine or fixe
other Markers, Torch-bearers.

Rom. What ſhall this ſpeeh be spoke for our exculte
Or ſhall we on without Apologie?

Ben. The date is out of such proſtituice,
Weele haue no Cupid, hood winkt with a skarſe,
Bearing a Tartars painted Bow of lath,
Skaring the Ladies like a Crow-keeper.

But let them meaſure vs by what they will,
Weele meaſure them a Meaſure, and be gone.

Rom. Giue me a Torch, I am not for this ambling.
Being but heauy I will beare the light.

Mer. Nay gentle Romeo, we must haue you dance.

Rom. Not I believe me, you haue dancing ſhoues
With nimble foles, I haue a foale of Lead
So ſtakes me to the ground, I cannot moue.

Mer. You are a Louer, borrow Cupids wings,
And foare with them aboue a common bound.

Rom. I am too fore enpeared with his ſhaſt,
To ſoare with his light feathers, and to bound:
I cannot bound a pitch aboue duſt woe,
Vnder loues heauy burthen do I finke.

Hora. And to finke in it should you burthen loue,
Too great oppreſſion for a tender thing.

Rom. Is loue a tender thing? it is too rough,
Too rude, too boyſterous, and it pricks like thorne.

Mer. If loue be rough with you, be rough with loue,
Pricke loue for pricking, and you beat loue downe,
Giue me a Cafe to put my viſage in,
A Vifor for a Vifor, what care I

What curious eye doth quote deformities :
Here are the Beetle-browes shall bluſh for me.

Ben. Come knocke and enter, and no sooner in,
But euery man betake him to his legs.

Rom. A Torch for me, let wantons light of heart
Tickle the ſenceleſſe rufhes with their heeles :
For I am prouerb'd with a Grandier Phraſe,
Ile be a Candle-holder and looke on,
The game was nere so faire, and I am done.

Mer. Tut,